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restwellsoon · 25 days

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Nothing in Particular | 4 - To Say What You Mean and Mean What You Say

Pairing: Omota Uramichi x F!Reader

Summary: A series of unexpected encounters and misunderstandings causes you to fill a large and gaping hole in Uramichi’s life.

Minors and blank blogs DNI! You will be blocked!

Warnings: Usahara puking, things getting heated between Reader and Uramichi

The studio lobby sounded busier than usual, and the cast couldn’t help their curiosity. There shouldn’t have been any kids visiting since today was a designated rehearsal day. There weren’t any studio tours either. It was a rare treat for a Friday, so the sudden noise was something to be investigated. This could have been a telltale sign that their peaceful transition into the weekend might be disrupted (because of Derekida).

Utano was the first to hear Mei’s chirpy voice directing whoever it was towards their direction.

“Thank–oh. Surprise!” You greeted Utano, raising the box you held in your arms.

It was clear that you weren’t visiting as a friend, based on your workwear. An office-appropriate top and tailored wide leg pants were paired with sensible heels. The only bits of your personal style were apparent in the jewelry you wore and how you styled your hair. Your company I.D. swung on the lanyard it hung on as you met her.

“What’re you doing here, Ms. Corporate?” Utano teased.

“I wanted to apologize for my team intruding on your company dinner last Friday,” you explained before leaning in so that only she could hear. “But really, I’m using that as an excuse to spend company money on those fruit sandos that we’ve been dying to try.”

She gave you a thumbs up. How many weeks had you been tagging each other in pictures and videos on social media? It was easy for you two to be influenced by viral cafes. Yeah, you’ve both had fruit sandos before but not from this particular place.

“What’s this?” Iketeru asked, trying to figure out why the logo on the box you held looked familiar.

Meanwhile, Usahara tried to figure out why you looked familiar. You gave him an awkward smile before returning your attention to Utano.

He nudged Kumatani and whispered, “Hey! Isn’t that the chick that Uramichi was bullying?”

The dark-haired mascot glanced at their senpai before answering. “Why would you think that Uramichi is a bully?”

“What do you mean why?” Usahara asked, voice returning to its normal volume of loud as fuck. “Dude, Uramichi bullies the hell out of us. I guess you aren’t open-minded enough to think that he could bully girls too.”

There was too much to unpack in Usahara’s statement, but most importantly, Kumatani didn’t really care. What was more interesting was the fact that the older man paid them no attention, instead focusing on the strangers in the lobby.

Standing awkwardly to the side of you was a kid that looked straight out of college. He was fresh-faced and bright-eyed despite being uncertain of where he belonged in this situation. His tie was slightly crooked and a few hairs were misplaced as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

In stark contrast to him was the man to your right. He was the epitome of a handsome salaryman from a drama. His hair was perfectly coiffed and his suit wrinkle free. He towered over everyone in the room and even threatened to outshine Iketeru.

Uramichi was hit with a feeling he hadn’t felt since his days as a professional athlete. A rival had suddenly appeared.

Without breaking your attention away from Utano, you introduced her to your colleagues.

“This is my friend, Utano,” you told them, “the one that’s a famous singer.”

The younger man wanted to nod enthusiastically and say that he remembered her from the other night, but he was under strict orders to be professional. He held his tongue and gave her a slight bow.

“And this is…” You weren’t sure of how to explain your relationship to Uramichi. He hadn’t even acknowledged you, standing slightly behind Utano, almost as if he didn’t want to be near you. “This is Uramichi oniisan. The face of the show.”

Pleased that you had called him by his name, Uramichi nodded towards them as a hello. Utano wondered what was up with his expression. Shouldn’t he be happy? His expression seemed annoyed.

“This is Daiki, one of the newest employees at my company.” Finally, the kid perked up at the mention of his name, bowing deeply before saying hello.

“And this is Ken, my colleague and fellow regional manager. The territory he covers actually falls within this district.”

“Which is why they’re so close!” Daiki said brightly.

Would it be too obvious if you turned to glare at him? Damn, you really shouldn’t glare at your subordinate, you reminded yourself. But still! You bit the inside of your cheek. You didn’t want Uramichi to misunderstand your relationship.

…which was exactly what he did. Uramichi had seen enough shitty dramas to know that forced proximity was an easy way to fall in love. It made sense when he thought about it too. It was Japanese culture to spend most of your waking hours at work. It was an obvious setting for love. Perhaps things fizzled out between you because things were heating up between you and him.

Uramichi looked at Ken again. The guy was easily over six feet tall.

“Kentaro Maeda,” he said, offering his surname and business card.

The elation Uramichi felt turned into a downward spiral as he held the card in his hand. Ah, so you were already on a first name basis with him. The rest of the introductions were a buzz in his ears as he realized what that meant.

But! Uramichi faced more fearsome opponents in the past, hadn’t he? He’d been the underdog and unfavored in previous competitions and still managed to achieve first place. He couldn’t let this salaryman beat him when it came to competing for your affection. He looked for possible ways to beat him.

“Isn’t that heavy?” Uramichi suddenly asked, abruptly halting the group’s conversation. “I can carry that for you.”

There was no way you could have him carry the box. What was inside was specifically for him. You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

“But it looks heavy,” he insisted.

You didn’t back down. “I’m stronger than I look.”

“Okay,” he said, “but I’m stronger than you.”

It was then that you noticed what he was wearing. Rather than his tasio no oniisan uniform, he wore casual athleisure instead. A snug shirt and gym shorts highlighted his toned frame, bringing you back to his apartment. Why was he so handsome and confident in his abilities? How could you have humiliated yourself in front of him?

A challenger has appeared, Usahara thought, and now Uramichi wants to crush her. It was clear to him that you were flustered by his assertiveness, just like how you were when he insisted that you call him by his first name.

“Hey, how ‘bout we set up in the lounge?” Usahara suggested. “Wouldn’t wanna waste our last break out here, am I right? ‘Sides, food is a great way to distract the big boss from piling on more work.” He looked at his senpai. “Yo Uramichi, wanna come with me to tell the director and the rest of the crew that we got a delicious gift?”

Using his chipper made-for-TV voice, Uramichi answered. “Great idea!”

Usahara was pleased that the suggestion got Uramichi off your back. He knew what it felt like to be at the end of his senpai’s wrath and was glad that he could at least spare you from that fate.

Chills ran up his spine as Uramichi quietly told him to eat shit.

–

By the time the duo returned with the rest of the crew, the food had been set up, effectively distracting Derekida and the assistant directors. You were happy to see that the Together with Maman staff were enjoying the gift. You delegated Daiki and Ken with the task of charming the crew members while you set up the sandwiches in a presentable manner. It was simple enough that they couldn’t fuck it up.

Seeing that everyone had food in their hands, you decided it was best not to linger anymore. You made your rounds to say goodbye, dragging Daiki with you as you approached Uramichi.

“We’ll be heading out first,” you told Uramichi. You had successfully avoided him for the most part, but knowing you had an escape route made you comfortable with meeting him one last time. “But first, Daiki has something that he’d like to tell you regarding that comment he made the other night.”

Uramichi couldn’t even remember what the kid had said.

“It was inappropriate and unprofessional of me to tell you that I get laid thanks to you, your colleagues, and the show.”

You nodded along, satisfied that he went with the script you had practiced in the company car. However, you stopped when he continued on.

“I, in fact, rarely get laid. I’m actually dropping off my lil sister at school during the time that Together with Maman airs, but I wanted to sound funny and cool in front of my co-workers.”

Daiki looked pitiful, especially with the aura of disappointment you sent in his direction. His eyes were staring at Uramichi’s shoes in what you assumed was repentance. In reality, Daiki fought every urge to ask Uramichi how he got that exclusive Onitsuka Tiger colorway.

“Apology accepted?” Uramichi said hesitantly.

Daiki’s eyes shot up from the floor when Uramichi accepted his apology. Great! Since he accepted his apology, maybe that meant he could ask him about his shoes.

The inside of your cheek might be bitten raw by the end of the day. That was not the professional, succinct yet sincere apology you had practiced. Daiki, what the fuck.

“Aren’t we lucky that Uramichi is so gracious?” You said to Daiki. He nodded furiously. “Now scram,” you mouthed.

Your kouhai hesitantly left your side, throwing a peace sign out to Uramichi when you weren’t looking.

Now that it was just the two of you, your embarrassment came back in full force. Still, you handed him that small box that you were protecting so fiercely. “I didn’t want the others to know that I got you a separate gift,” you admitted shyly.

“I heard that you don’t like sweets.” Because you scoured the internet for his food preferences all night like a coward. You hoped that interview from nine years ago still held true. “So I got you something a little different but still special.”

He opened the box to find a pork cutlet sando, and on its soft white bread, a message was branded.

Congrats on your award nomination. Uramazing ☺

Did he hate it? You wondered. Uramichi was just staring at the sandwich.

“It’s a little different,” you mentioned again, “but I hope it didn’t disappoint you too much.” Maybe you overhyped it.

“I can’t eat it,” he finally said.

Your smile fell. You knew you shouldn’t have trusted that old ass article. It was probably some PR shit his coach had made up. You wanted to melt into the floor.

“Is it because of the flavor?” You chose the one with the most amount of protein though. “Or is it not your preference?”

Maybe it would have been better to go with something more straight-forward like a box of high quality meat. It would have been difficult to justify that outlier expense though, and it would have been immediately flagged as suspicious if recorded. Maybe he could tell that you were spending company money and being a bit dishonest. Was he disgusted with your behavior?

“It’s… it’s too cute to eat,” he explained, breaking through your thoughts. “I don’t want to bite it and ruin it.”

Huh?

“You could take a picture of it, if it’s that precious?” You suggested, guessing that it should have been obvious from your interactions with him that he wasn’t a foodie.

“Right!” He said, pretending that it was the most obvious answer in the world.

You counted down before taking a picture of him and the sando on your phone. “I’ll send it to you soon,” you told him before leaving. “Hope it tastes as good as it looks.”

Utano pulled you aside before you left the studio completely. “I could feel the tension between you,” her eyes gleamed, “so let’s schedule something together ASAP.”

Uramichi couldn’t help but notice how close you and Ken walked together while leaving the studio.

–

It bothered him for the rest of the day and into the next too. He couldn’t remember jack shit half the time, so why was this gnawing at him? It was worse than when he forgot what the fuck a macaron was. He couldn’t think of how to describe what he was feeling.

Noticing Uramichi staring at his phone, Nekota suggested, “Whoever it is that you’re waiting for, why don’t you reach out first?”

“Does it look like I’m waiting for someone?” He asked.

Usahara piped up. “Nah, it looks like you’re pining, bro! Who’s the lucky lady that has you wrapped around her finger?”

That was when Kumatani connected the dots. The Mud Shack usually lightened up Uramichi’s mood, but he’d been a dark cloud all night, staring at his empty notification screen and sighing. You weren’t just Utano’s friend. You weren’t a victim of Uramichi’s harsh life lessons either. You were the woman who rushed past him and Usahara over the weekend. It could have been a coincidence since Uramichi’s apartment complex was huge, but what if…?

Giving the blond a dirty look, Uramichi snapped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I can tell you whose hand will be wrapped around your throat if you don’t shut it.”

Grimacing, Usahara tried to pacify Uramichi with another drink, flagging down the server. Kumatani sighed while Nekota laughed.

–

Nekota’s suggestion lingered in Uramichi’s head as he headed home, shifting his shoulder to accommodate the near-dead weight beside him. He’d think of anything at this point to distract himself from Usahara’s excessive drooling and pouting. Once again, his kouhai was drunk out of his mind, and the others immediately bailed when it came to bringing the blond home.

Since when did he start taking advice from Nekota of all people? This was the same man that had been married and divorced twice! But perhaps that also meant that he knew more than the average person…? Wisdom was still wisdom regardless of the failures that led to such knowledge, right?

He shook his head, staring at your name in his phone as he waited for the pedestrian light to change signals.

“God, I wish I were–” Usahara started.

Luckily for Uramichi, the light changed, and he ribbed Usahara so he’d start walking.

–

Law & Sons was surprisingly busy for a late Saturday night, and you were unsure of why the best konbini of the neighborhood was packed. There were only deals on milk and chewing gum. Part of its charm was the fact that it was nearly empty at all hours of the day, often disregarded for the more popular chains. Still, you braved through the crowd and (im)patiently waited in line.

While stuck in the queue–the poor college student was overwhelmed–you used that time to send Uramichi the picture of him and his personalized sando. You’d been meaning to send it to him but had been chickening out last minute, unable to get past your embarrassment. Still, he looked so adorable with that shocked expression that bloomed into a wide grin, as if he wasn’t used to human kindness.

You selected the picture, and once more, you were stuck on hitting send. It’d be odd to send the picture without saying anything, but what could you possibly write?

Hi, here’s the pic I took of you the other day. You look really nice. I really like your smile here~ Ugh, no.

You look very handsome here, especially when you smile. Doesn’t that sound as if he doesn’t normally look handsome?

Nice smile. You kept reading it in a sarcastic tone.

Ah! You thought of something good.

–

After dumping Usahara at the tables in front of Law & Sons, Uramichi fished his phone out of his pocket as he made his way to the anti-hangover drink section. He clicked on your message thread. The last message you sent each other was dated from last Friday. He sighed, putting his phone away while grabbing two Ukon no Chikaras, then headed towards the drink aisle in the back. He’d get a Pocari Sweat for him and Usahara.

Uramichi always threatened to leave the blond out on the streets one day, but next time, he really would do it. He already anticipated Usahara sleeping in until the late afternoon, bumming around his apartment until night, effectively wasting Uramichi’s Sunday.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Was he losing his hearing along with his will to live? Or was it because the konbini was oddly crowded right now? He checked the notification after queuing up.

He stared at your message. What did you mean?

The pic turned out better than expected.

Adjusting the small basket he placed all the drinks in, he zoomed in on his face, trying to figure out what was wrong with it.

Was he naturally unphotogenic? Did you think the whole concept of him taking a pic with a sando was weird? Were you perhaps doubting your photography skills? There were a myriad of reasons as to why you said that, and it could also explain why you didn’t send the picture until now.

–

You stepped forward, placing your items on the counter. It was stupid, but finally hitting send on your message made you feel free. And now that you felt lighter, you felt luckier too.

“A scratcher, please,” you told the clerk, sliding the correct amount of change.

When you turned to leave, a familiar face caught your eye.

“Michi?”

The brunette jolted at the sound of someone calling his name a second time. At first he thought it was a mistake.

Your greeting turned into regret as you realized how sloppy you looked. Your hair was unstyled, your face bare, and you went out in your ratty old lounge clothes and Crocs. You only went out like this because you thought the konbini run would be quick.

He perked up when he realized who was calling out to him, and he waved to you from two people behind, his phone still in his hand.

“I was just about to text you back,” he said.

“Right,” you said, nervousness creeping back up, “the picture. It really came out well. I don’t know why, but my photos always turn out a little blurry or out of focus. I’m glad I took a good one of you smiling though.”

Was that what you meant? Uramichi wondered as you stood beside him in line. How vain he was to think that you were commenting on his looks.

You were right to buy a scratcher. Maybe you’d buy a lottery ticket too depending on Uramichi’s next answer.

You walked side-by-side while leaving the konbini, waiting for its little jingle to stop before you asked him, “Wanna come over to my place since I’m close?” You tried to downplay your eagerness to be with him by highlighting your proximity to the konbini.

Perhaps now was Uramichi’s time to live up to his threats, and yet guilt panged at him and kicked at his heart. As much of an irresponsible manchild he was, Usahara shouldn’t be left piss drunk on the streets.

“I can’t,” he said immediately.

“Yeah, it’s late,” you tried to play it off. What were you thinking? He probably wanted to go back to his place and sleep.

“No, it’s not that. I’m bringing someone back to my place.”

Uramichi might as well have shat on your scratcher, along with your heart.

He was taking home another woman? You really didn’t think he was the type. Should you tell him off? But it wasn’t as if you two were a thing to begin with.

Unsure of what that expression on your face meant, Uramichi further explained himself, pointing at the dumbass whose face practically melted into the table.

That’s who he was taking home. The weird guy that winked at you at the dinner party? The one that tried to get between you and Uramichi at the studio? Here Usahara was, cockblocking again.

“He had too much to drink,” he said before mumbling to Usahara, “Get your ass up.” Weakly, Usahara stood while Uramichi shoulders most of his weight, picking up the taller man with ease.

“I’ll walk you home though.”

You looked at him skeptically. You knew that Uramichi was strong, but carrying Usahara for a few more blocks sounded exhausting. “Are you sure you won’t be tired? I can call you a cab from my place.”

Did it make him, Usahara, or both of them look bad if Uramichi said that he was used to it? Besides, if he miraculously got tired, accidentally dropped Usahara into a bush, and needed to recuperate at your house alone, then that would be karma giving the blond what he deserved.

“It’ll be fine. Don’t worry about us.”

Taking Uramichi’s bag from him, you commented, “You’re always walking me home, but when can I actually bring you back to my place?” Making a joke of your blunders was the only way you could face him. You swung both bags as you walked.

He shut your suggestion down quickly. “I have a high alcohol tolerance, so I doubt that'll ever happen,”

Was he really brushing you off that blatantly? “You know what I’m saying, right? I just want to be sure.”

Uramichi was puzzled. “You’re talking about bringing me back to your place because I’m too drunk to get back to my own.”

You shook your head. “No, bringing someone back to your place usually means you’re bringing them home with you to fuck.”

Perhaps you should have used a less crude word in your explanation. Uramichi went into a full stop right before your apartment building.

“Fuck…?” Was this what you wanted all this time? Were you actually flirting with him instead of being friendly? “You…?”

Fuck you? Why was Uramichi saying fuck you? That wasn’t directed at him, right? Usahara wondered. His senpai wasn’t one to swear–especially compared to Kumatani’s potty mouth–but maybe he said or did someone to push Uramichi over the edge. Everything was a blur after that third round of shochu though.

Usahara opened his eyes to see concrete instead of the izakaya they were hanging out at. He followed a strange pair of shoes beside Uramichi’s, looking up until he saw you. Gasping, he straightened up, twisting Uramichi’s arm with the movement.

“I guess someone sobered up?” Uramichi glowered, rubbing at his arm.

“Why did you say fuck you? To her? Dude, Mich, what do you have against her?” Usahara asked frantically.

Both you and Uramichi stared, trying to decipher Usahra’s drunken blabbering. He was mumbling nonsense and working himself up, but the last word he clearly said was nauseous. You directed Uramichi towards a trash can in front of your building, but it was too late. Usahara puked on Uramichi’s shirt and pants.

You tried not to gag while Uramichi tried to control his anger. Usahara, meanwhile, was fighting for his life, swallowing down the remnants of his sickness.

“You definitely need to come inside,” you told them. “I’ll clean your shirt.”

–

Uramichi dumped Usahara on your couch with as little grace as possible, rolling his shoulders before evaluating the mess the blond had made. You pushed a trash can by his face and set the anti-hangover drink and Pocari beside him.

“Ya think he’ll be okay if we leave him alone for a bit?” You asked Uramichi. Usahara was knocked out again, but that unexpected puke session made you nervous.

“Despite his name, he’s built like a roach. If Usahara’s body truly was as weak as it looks, he would have been dead by now.”

Oof, that was harsh, but you’d probably feel the same if your friend threw up on you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up first,” you said, taking Uramichi to the bathroom.

(Un)luckily, it seemed like the mess was a mixture of stomach acid and alcohol, despite the putrid smell.

“It might be easier if you take off your clothes and I spray it down with the shower head,” you said, hoping that he didn’t think there were any perverse reasons behind your suggestion.

Cautiously, Uramichi removed his shirt and pants, throwing it in the tub. You busied yourself by detaching the showerhead and hosed them down, stopping the water when it looked clean enough. Leaning over the tub, you wrung out any excess water.

You were so caught up in what you were doing that you forgot what you asked Uramichi to do. His boxers teased at what you missed out on last weekend. The water dripped onto the bathmat as you stood in a trance. You had to leave before your fantasies become intrusive.

“I’m gonna throw these in the wash real quick,” you said, slipping past him and that solid core.

“Do you wanna wash up?” You asked him, returning with a clearer mind. You didn’t give Uramichi time to answer, shoving a towel into his arms, and you quickly showed him the settings.

As steam filled the room, Uramichi looked at the neatly folded pair of clothes you left behind. Were these your ex’s clothes? They were certainly not women’s clothes, he thought, as a flash of annoyance hit him.

Sighing, he let the warm water hit his back as he looked at various bottles for the body wash. Giving the correct bottle a few pumps, he lathered the liquid onto his body. He shouldn’t be picky or bratty when imposing on you.

–

With Uramichi in the shower, you checked on Usahara snoozing away on your couch. It was somewhat irritating watching the blond sleep, a slight smile on his face as drool dripped out of the corner of his mouth. You’d have to scrub the cushions later.

This fucker–whether he realized it or not–was always getting in your way. You couldn’t be too harsh on him though, at least not tonight. If it weren’t for him, Uramichi would have walked you home and left, leaving you two to go on your separate ways.

“Is he doing alright?” Uramichi asked, drying his hair with the smaller towel you provided.

You jumped at the sound of his voice, giving him a startled response that turned into bashfulness. “Yeah, he’s just–um,” You turned around to face the blond instead of him. “He’s doing fine. Drooling quite a bit though.”

From behind, you missed the face that Uramichi made, sighing as he admitted that Usahara did that often.

“You’re a good friend,” you told him before moving past him so you could bring him some tea.

Uramichi declined, saying that he got himself something at the konbini too.

“It’ll take another 30 - 45 minutes for your clothes to dry, so…” You trailed off, unsure if you should say your heart’s desires out loud. Uramichi had to want something too, coming out like that, right?

Sparing him a glance, you watched as he ran a hand through his damp hair, shaking some droplets onto his skin. They cascaded down the thick muscles of his torso until they were stopped by the towel loosely wrapped around his hips. You could see a peek of the black band of his boxers.

You swallowed. “Do you wanna lay in bed while we wait? Besides, I owe you from last time.”

How could Uramichi forget? His sheets smelled like you for a few days after, and he was pleased to smell like you right now. He silently followed you to your bed.

Well, this’ll be awkward, you thought, as you stared at your bed, now realizing the consequences of your suggestion. Uramichi would lay in bed with you in his underwear.

“Um, ifit’salrightwithyou,” you spoke quickly, “couldyoutakeoffthetowel? I don’t want my sheets to get wet.”

He nodded, “That’s fine,” and complied with your request.

“You can’t really see anything from the couch,” you over-explained, motioning to the large bookcase partition that divided the room into unequal parts. If someone really did want to look, they’d have to look through the gaps in each cubby space. “Though, we’d just have to keep our voices down.”

Uramichi sat at the edge of the bed and leaned back, making you curse yourself for dimming the overhead lights. The only light that shone was from the TV, and with it, you could only make out the shadows of his body.

Your words kept playing in his head since you said it, silenced only when you two were speaking or he was lost in anxious thinking. When can I actually bring you back to my place? Bringing someone back to your place usually means you’re bringing them home with you to fuck.

Uramichi truly was a fool when it came to love. Until now he hadn’t considered your intentions. He only knew that he enjoyed your time together. Things were starting to make sense: why you kissed him, the odd statements that you’d sometimes throw out, how sometimes you’d act self-conscious.

“Are you saying that because you want to fuck me?”

You were at a loss for words. Your only options were to deny it or admit it. You’d been wishing for weeks that Uramichi would understand what you were getting at, and now that he did, you didn’t know what to say.

Quietly, you confessed, “Yes.”

He hummed. So that’s what you wanted from him. His dreams of domestic bliss were simply that–dreams. Maybe it was wishful thinking, or maybe he was pathetic–it all depended on one’s perspective–but he thought he’d be satisfied with this if it was with you.

“Come here then,” he said, settling in your bed.

Your mind raced as you crawled into his lap, straddling him. He stopped you as your hand was pulling up your shirt.

“I didn’t mean now. I just… I wanted to know why,” he said at your confusion. “My friend’s asleep in the other room.”

It was almost as if he was chastising you for your eagerness, yet instead of embarrassment you were even more turned on. It was one of those things where the more forbidden it was, the hotter it seemed.

“We can kiss though,” he offered.

He must have used your mouth wash. Uramichi’s breath tasted like spearmint as you kissed, lips pressing against each other hard as your tongues explored. Your hands wandered too, pressing into his chest before taking his to guide them where you wanted.

Uramichi’s hips rolled into yours as he squeezed your ass. You could feel the entirety of his length, but you took more interest in his girth. You’d seen a hint of it–felt it too–last week, but rubbing against it was something else entirely. You whined into the kiss, shifting in his lap to get the most friction.

“You said we had to keep our voices down,” he whispered hotly into your ear, “but here you are being noisy.”

He spoke in that matter-of-fact tone of his, not unusual from his typical manner of speech. This time, like earlier, had the same effect on you. There was this underlying current of power between you, and it was clear that Uramichi had the upper hand.

“Mhm,” you mumbled into his neck. “I did.” You pressed your body into his to ease this ache you felt. “It’s hard not to be when you’re teasing me like this though.”

Both your heads were swimming, and you clung onto each other for comfort. For a moment, Uramichi thought his resolve would break at your words. If you asked, then and there, for him to fuck you into the mattress, Uramichi would have given you everything you asked for, but you didn’t. He placed a kiss to the side of your mouth.

“I can’t help it,” he told you, grateful for the poor lighting. He was certain his face was flushed. “I missed you.”

You peppered his neck with little kisses before looking up at him. “If you miss me, you’re not supposed to be mean about it.”

“When I miss you again,”–Ugh, your heart skipped with the words that he chose–“I’ll be good to you the next time we meet.”

You kissed on his promise.

–

Uramichi woke up feeling refreshed, proud that he even woke up before his alarm. His room was nice and dark too. He decided then to sleep for a few more minutes. He snuggled into his pillow but it felt odd. Lifting up his head and waiting for his eyes to adjust, he realized that his head was resting on your tits while his legs wrapped around yours.

“Mornin’,” you yawned, stretching and flexing against his body. “Sleep okay?” You asked, blindly reaching for your phone to check the time.

He hadn’t heard that question in years. Work trips where he had to share his room didn’t count of course. Internally, he jumped with joy, feeling as if he could take on the day after speaking to you.

“Really good, actually,” he said. “I haven’t felt this well rested in months.”

You laughed, flipping your phone screen back to how you found it. It was still too early–6 am to be exact. “Is that so? You should sleep here more often then.”

He mumbled in agreement before asking for his phone. Uramichi checked his messages, relieved that he didn’t miss anything important. There were three messages from Nekota freaking out about having his kids early the next day (which was today actually), one from Kumatani saying that he got home, and another, oddly enough from Hachita, thanking Uramichi for always looking after his brother. What Uramichi was worried about the most was Usahara waking up in the middle of the night. He hadn’t even realized that he himself fell asleep in your bed.

“Thanks for everything,” he said, feeling himself grow hot once more as he recounted what you did last night. The heavy petting and make out session was enough to temporarily whet both your desires. He knew he shouldn’t stay longer lest they grew once more. “But I have to go.” His eyes glanced through the bookcase to where Usahara laid.

Giving a quiet whine in protest, you got out of bed first, venturing towards the dryer to get his clothes.

Once dressed, Uramichi took on the task of waking up Usahara.

“We gotta go,” he told him, pinching Usahara’s nose. The younger man snorted but continued to sleep. “Seriously,” he said, this time poking at his ribs.

“Huh? Wha–ouch! Whadda’hell man?”

Uramichi continued to poke him until Usahara actually sat up. Blearily, he rubbed at his eyes taking in his surroundings. The room was dark but clearly not Uramichi’s apartment. Had he… Had he finally scored with a girl?! No, he realized as Uramichi glared at him. If he did, Uramichi would definitely not be there.

“Where are we? I don’t–I uh–” before Usahara could finish his sentence, Uramichi shoved the anti-hangover drink down his throat.

“We’ll talk later. Let’s just say a konbini angel was looking after us, but I’d hate to intrude any longer. Get up.”

“Konbini angel? What?” Usahara laughed. “You still drunk, dude? You’re not making any sense.”

Ushering him to the door, Uramichi turned back to mouth ‘goodbye’ at you from your spot behind the partition. He insisted that it’d be easier–and quieter–for everyone if Usahara didn’t see you.

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Nothing in Particular | fic cover

Life Lessons Masterlist

AO3

#uramichi omota x reader #uramichi x reader #uramichi omota #rest writes

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espresseo-cafe · 10 months

Text

life is still beautiful | johnny | ch.4

genre: cappucino, romance, angst, university!au, dad!au, drama, slice of life

pairing: collegestudent!johnny x fem!reader

bean count: 5.6k

a/n: another weekly update on your coffee! got carried away with the word count 👀🤎 note: this is only a work of fiction, it doesn’t reflect the artists’ personalities in any way.

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“wow.”

your hand sheepishly scratched the back of your neck out of nervousness as yoohyeon complimented you, still feeling awkward about this. out of all people, yoohyeon had to pick you as one of her muses for her final project: your junior yeri, yoohyeon’s boyfriend minhyun, and sana from language studies, and four others from several departments whom you’ve only met at lunch earlier today.

“y’know, i might just as well perform your thesis.” you said as you turn from side to side to check one of the beautiful gowns she made, running your hand on the material that she used. she may be a workaholic, but she knew when to get things done. who would’ve known she would be able to design something so pleasing to the eyes.

the gown was a tube type; a bit loose yet flowy, boosting up your busts a little, and a slit down your left thigh. the colour would be a favourite: diamond silver with hints of very pale pink on the top and blue that the slid down to the bottom. lastly, intricate details of jewelry, lace, and flowers lined on it almost all over.

what made you awkward and uncomfortable to be wearing it was the fact that it was almost see through- so much that you felt like your body could be seen but not quite. it was confusing to explain it that you asked yeri to wear it instead at one point.

“bestie be careful with the deets! it’s my best work yet!” yoohyeon held your hand playfully but stopped when she saw your face pout. “hey y/n, what’s wrong?”

yeri and sana looked back to check on you as well. you looked up before making eye contact with yoohyeon, your eye twitched so evidently with nervousness that she knew she had to scram. you lifted your hands and pinched her cheeks, saying in gritted teeth. “i can’t go out in this tonight! i’m too exposed.”

yoohyeon squealed and yet let out a giggle, holding your slightly shaking wrists to stop you from squeezing her cheeks. “y/n, you look so, so beautiful. i wish you could see it because you are.” she turned to yeri and sana. “right, girls?”

sana hugged you from the back. “yes she is. you know even though i don’t stay here at the dorms anymore i know for a fact that you- y/n, have the best face without makeup. what much more if you actually wore some?”

you pulled a face so ugly that yeri messed up your hair, laughing. “yeah y/n.. except, just don’t do that.”

they swung you to the vanity and brought out a makeup palette and curler to get going. “i wonder just how many hearts will be swayed tonight.” yoohyeon grinned and you just held your breath hoping you could get through the night in one piece.

johnny stood by the backstage of the university outdoor hall, peeking out from the side to see people filling up the seats and bleachers. the lights slightly dimmed while the main focus was the walkway.

“three out of three.” he told himself. that was the number of times he was asked to model for the clothes his seniors made before they graduated. he was glad he didn’t have to do it this year, taeyong taking his place instead.

also he wouldn’t call it a blunder to model years before, but rather flattering because at least he had another image he could be besides being called a fathe-

his phone rang, disrupting his circle of thoughts. “yeah?”

“dude where are you?” jungwoo shouted from the other line, making johnny squeeze his face a little at the volume. “you’re needed by seulgi noona for the photography, she says you got the main camera.”

“yup i’ll be right there.” he said when he put his phone in his pocket, feeling a tiny tug from his jeans. “hey little buddy. sorry.. was i long?”

youngmin just patted his cheeks and smiled when johnny picked him up, who gave him blows of raspberries before meeting the others. he had to bring him along because his parents were back in america for his aunt’s birthday and no one was there to look after him.

“aww our little youngminnie bean is here for the night. auntie seulgi will be watching you while your dad goes for his rounds to take photos.” seulgi carried the almost two year old. “aw he really looks like you, john. same lips.”

johnny just laughed and his heart melted when youngmin’s lips started to quiver. “i’ll be back, okay? don’t give auntie here a hard time.”

“aren’t we going to have fun?” she patted the baby’s bum to stop him from crying, shaking the little toy rattle for him to play with while johnny took his leave. her attention swifted when she heard familiar voices of her juniors. “ah yoohyeon! how’s the preparations going?”

“superb, my last model finally didn’t chicken out.” she giggled, turning her head to youngmin. “is this.. ? johnny’s son? he’s grown so big now.”

“yeah he told me to keep an eye on him for a bit.” seulgi combed his hair back while she shortly carressed his cheeks, “so yeah, uh, your last model is y/n?”

yoohyeon nodded and it made her smile, “yes and she’s stunning.”

“great. she’s perfect for the design you whipped up.” her expression changed before looking around. “how is she though? she coping up well lately?”

“i can’t really say, she’ll open up when she’s ready.”

backstage, you stood beside sana and she noticed you were having the nervous jitters, she held your hand and squeezed them. “you’ll be fine. we’re queued to be the last ones out.”

“that is why i’m nervous, yoohyeon had to be the top student.” you faked cry and sana just poked your nose. “.. but thank you.”

outside at the seating area, kun, johnny, and mark lee sat together, the younger one writing notes for the article that the newspaper club would be featuring by the end of the month. johnny was the assigned photographer, former runway model. and kun being known as an all rounder, was in charge of the music being played but left it to the juniors so he was just sitting pretty.

“you think jungwoo would do good for his thesis? i’m kinda nervous on what he’d put out.” kun joked, making johnny laugh as he set the camera ready.

“trust me i think taeyong would save his ass from failing, i just don’t know how he managed to be at the dean’s list despite his grades, and retaking quizzes.” johnny said, taking some sample shots before turning to mark. “hey kid, mind if you swap places with me? i’ll be closer to the stage.” pointing to the camera he was holding.

“sure.” mark took his belongings, “wait- you’re johnny suh. the one with the ki-“ he paused when kun gestured the younger one stop the convo, knowing well that johnny didn’t want any attention for not being the one on the runway. “sorry.”

johnny raised his brow and smiled as he sat down, finding the younger one quite amusing. freshman, probably. his arm accidentally elbowed the person to his left, and muttered a ‘sorry’. his eyes met with the guy so familiar he wished he didn’t ask for a swap.

choi seungcheol just nodded, accepting his apology. johnny for sure didn’t want his mood to be ruined just by his batchmate’s presence, because in the first place, there was nothing going on between you and the guy. but johnny felt he was being challenged, and decided to just let the night pass and finish the work he was required to do.

the lights dimmed down, indicating the fashion show was about to start. he looked through the viewfinder taking snapshots of student models. jungwoo’s models and designs were showcased first, making yuta and johnny chuckle that they teased him for not having higher grades. the younger one rebutted that he only went first because people found out taeyong was modelling.

other works came out and being so indulged with fashion himself, johnny actually found the clothes on the runway quite boring though applauses were heard on each outfit shown said differently. well, it wasn’t up to his standards. the people who walked weren’t even walking right.

“when will something actually get your attention?” kun whispered to him, noticing him lowkey sighing quite a few times.

johnny just shrugged, not so sure himself.

“the final designs of the fashion show will be out in a bit! please welcome kim yoohyeon and her models!” the crowd cheered at the mention of her name, making sana, yeri, and yourself flick your heads at her. she only waved and gave you all a thumbs up.

you coughed and kind of panicked. you were the last one out but questioned why you were this nervous. you had these habits when you did so, not knowing until yoohyeon pointed them out. your neck slightly tilted, breathing short airs in and out, and your fingers crumble themselves into a fist. it was slow but enough to know you were entering anxiety.

however tonight was no exception for you to flop. yoohyeon had her reason to why she chose you for her final design. so you firmly decided to just suck it up and do your best because if anything, the last thing you want to do is to disappoint your best friend. she helped you so much during the darkest time of your life. and by golly, she still was.

with the thought of that, you were so proud of her nonetheless. she was one of the first people in your year to be graduating first since she skipped a year due to her talent. even flying to paris for an exchange programme.

yoohyeon cued for you to stand by, she gave you a smile that made you want to tear up. you smiled back and gave her flying kiss.

it was a minute interval, you had to wait for minhyun to come back and wait a little more before you go out. people were anticipating, knowing there should be eight models in total. and when you finally went out on the runway, johnny found himself mesmerised by you, almost forgetting to take a photo.

he wasn’t the only one in starstruck. he knew that the person to his left was also attentive to you, and in his peripheral vision, seungcheol’s mouth was left agape.

so johnny’s shaky brown orb found itself looking through the viewfinder once again. even though he wasn’t snapping a photo, he felt like he could see you clearer than anyone else in the room. and with that, he felt like he had an upperhand to the other guy.

you were a natural and he knew that might’ve been your first time modelling given the fact you were so nervous.

again he questioned himself just how could someone be so attractive. but, just like he noticed back at the dean’s camp last week, he noticed your eyes were tired despite being really stunning, beautiful.

the lights dimmed slowly and you almost slipped out a curse because it was something yoohyeon never told you about this segment of your walk. you looked around in relief that it wasn’t all dark. like something out of a fairytale, your gown started to light up from your chest downwards.

it was rare to see lights on the style of your dress, only seeing it on ball gowns and that made everyone gasp and clap louder. and because the gown was a pink and blue hue, the light made a combination of a very light lilac at the middle. the gems and sequins made it sparkle and that made you smile.

you felt like a princess and started to spin a little, even though it wasn’t required. but this was a chance that needed to be taken.

johnny smirked and took more photos, this was a first in the university, a gown lit up made by a graduate student.

“looks like we have a winning thesis.” mark wrote notes on his notepad, he elbowed his senior. “johnny sunbaenim, is okay for you to take good ones? we need a photo to feature for the university article, please.”

johnny let out a sniffle, “alright, order the sunbae to do things.”

“sorry, i didn’t mean-”

“since the hoobae said so, i will do it. he asked nicely.” mark hearing that made him feel at ease, one of the first people to not see him as a let down for being to be a writer/ author.

“y-yeah, thank you.”

once yoohyeon came out and walked one last time along with you and the others, confetti blasted from the ceiling, letting everyone know the show’s over. you walked backstage and had yourself changed, though makeup was still on, yoohyeon appeared and hugged you ever so tightly.

“sorry for not telling you about the surprise.” she cupped your cheek, “i know how the dark frightens you still but know that i’m always here for you. besides your whole concept is a reflection of our friendship.” her voice softened almost to a whisper. “you were with me in my darkest of times, like you’re the light.. ah i don’t want to tear up.”

you eyes welled a little, knowing that this thesis was something she would bring with her before she leaves for paris to continue her studies and internship next month. “likewise for me sis, you’re still looking out for me, and i’m still the same y/n.”

“don’t be, healing takes time. you know that. i’m older than you so i can tell you off whenever i want.” she hugged you and tried to change the topic by taking a lot of selfies and portraits before you both actually cry.

johnny was standing by the opened door and the curtain that was between you and him, not meaning to eavesdrop but he had to collect his backpack. healing? is she hurt? he shook his head and knocked.

“sorry, i need to collect a few things.” johnny pressed his lips to a small awkward smile, “hi, uh. you both did amazing tonight.”

“johnny! hi, long time no see.” yoohyeon gave him a side hug, “thank you-“ she looked at you and johnny’s flushed expressions. it was silent and something clicked in her that brough her into a smirk. something happened here, y/n, you obvious one.

your eyes looked elsewhere but to johnny, however that would be rude for you not to even talk to him. it had been a week since you both actually talked. “thanks, johnny. how are you?”

“busy with my classes among other things.” johnny scratched the back of his head. “listen, at the camp i forgot ask for your number. just wondering, when would be okay for you to hang out?”

yoohyeon nudged you because you weren’t answering, “y/n.. stop just staring at him. you’re making him wait.”

yeri stood by in front of this exchange, giggling as she took her items with her. “oh what is this? high school? you know there’s a carnival-”

jungwoo covered her mouth, not wanting her to ruin it for johnny, “anyway johnny hyung, we’ll see you back at the apartment!“

yoohyeon saw that as her way out knowing that she had forgotten plans after, “ah y/n, minhyun told me to meet him at the mall, i’ll see you at home, ok?”

you nodded at the commotion, the once noisy room became quiet in an instant. you smirked at johnny, “sorry i was in trance. um, anyway hi. so.. what’s this thing about a carnival?”

johnny laughed awkwardly, “y-yeah it’s the prize we won as champions at the dean’s listers camp last week. i got two tickets so i was wondering if you’d like to come with me.”

“hm carnival, i haven’t been there for so long. when do you want to go?”

“last day’s tomorrow and i got no one to go with.”

this time you laughed awkwardly, “so i guess i have to say yes?”

“that’s pretty much the plan.”

you crossed your arms, curling your tongue in your mouth, “sneaky, smooth.. but it’s giving the last minute guy.”

johnny laughed, his eye dimples showing. what you said was unexpected. “maybe because i save the best for last?” referring to the fashion show tonight, referring to you.

your heart thumped, which was unneccessary at this point. but this is johnny, the guy who had your mind occupied for the past week. “okay, i’ll see you tomorrow before lunch at the train station?”

“sure thing.”

“great. i’ll take my leave then, it’s nice seeing you. i know we’ve been busy after the camp. have a good night, johnny.” you waved, and johnny hitched a breath at the sight of you.

ah her phone number.

“y/n!” he covered his mouth because of his accidental loud voice. “uh, can i have your phone number?”

“calm down big guy, afraid to lose me?” you teased him but your heart was still beating repeatedly, giving him your phone number then leaving to rest for the night.

johnny held his chest, his heart hadn’t felt this a long while. he felt like a little boy who finally had a play date that seulgi caught him smiling like an idiot.

“hey dorkface, you finally can use your carnival tickets. good on you, for bringing y/n.”

she handed him youngmin, who already fast asleep and stretched. johnny licked his lips, trying to bring up something about you that he had heard earlier. “seulgi, you know y/n, right?”

seulgi looked at him while she tidied up her own belongings. “yeah, we had the same minors last year. what about her?”

johnny hesitated to ask further but he couldn’t help but be curious. “is she okay? i noticed that she looks tired often behind all that smiley aura she usually shows.”

he didn’t receive an answer immediately, seulgi had to think about it. though she knew it was something serious just about vaguely, she wasn’t in any position to share anything. “i can’t really speak for her because it’s personal. i don’t know the full details but if you want to know you need to gain her trust. that’s all i can say.”

“alright, thank you.” he slung his backpack behind his shoulder as he carried the already sleeping youngmin, shaking him a little. “also for this.”

he for sure want to get to know you more.

—

seungcheol looked at his phone, lip biting at the group photo of the crimson commanders at the camp. his smile was evident when you and him stood next to each other, arms crossed while laughing at other players.

jeonghan rolled his eyes and nudged joshua to take a look at their friend, the latter one laughed while chewing and talking, “dude stop smiling like that, it’s creepy.”

“yeah dude, you’re such a simp for her lately.” jeonghan shook his head, “are you sure she’s the one you’ve been looking for all this time?”

“oh yeah definitely, she’s the one.” seungcheol sat up from his bed, stretching his arms before they become numb. “do you think she remembers?”

joshua raised his brow, “you mean that night?”

jeonghan’s eyes widened, “don’t tell me you’re gonna tell her what happened. i don’t think she even knows or remembers anything about you.”

“that’s why it wasn’t a coincidence that i ran into her at the dean’s camp. we were meant to meet again.” seungcheol clicked on his phone once more, “and she might be the one i was matched with here on love click.”

“desperate guy called for desperate measures. you really are a creep, cheol.” jeonghan threw a basketball at him. “isn’t that app under construction at the moment? whoever created that sucks.”

“you’re just jealous because you weren’t matched with anyone, and that you got friendzoned by sowon.” joshua teased him, earning him a glare from the blonde haired guy.

“guys, i’ll make her remember. she can’t escape from this. though i do have an obstacle.” he tossed the ball back to jeonghan, “you know that guy johnny? from psychology? or was it medicine?”

“the one with the baby?” jeonghan spun the ball on his finger, “yeah he was in my biology class in year one. dude sure knows how to multi-task.”

“what about johnny?” joshua continued to eat, but still listening to the conversation.

seungcheol’s brows furrowed a little, “i don’t like the vibe i get from him for some reason. feels like he’s just going to be using her.” his friends questioned him how he was so sure about it and he just shrugged, “heard the guy has anger issues though, can’t seem to control his fits.”

“and where did you hear that from?” jeonghan threw the ball to joshua, who at this point nearly dropped his bottle of water.

“minji noona. she’s my maternal cousin.”

—

the day was sunny and bright, but not too much that it made your skin burn from the heat. the clouds got your back from covering the sun rays from peeking. today was exceptionally something you looked forward to, yoohyeon joking that it would be your first date ever.

and you were so nevous, but..

.. you wouldn’t call it a date though..would you? because as you looked at yourself at the reflection from a nearby shop window, you were all dolled up.

a floral dress in white, paired with your favourite sneakers. your hair done in a half do, slightly styled, and just a very light make up. “this should be fine, right?”your phone rung to see johnny’s caller ID appearing on your screen. immediately answering. “hello?”

johnny could feel his cheeks heat up, your voice made him nervous for today. his first hangout with you. he felt like he was going out for the first time. “hi, y/n. i’ll be there soon, did you wait long?”

you stayed silent for a bit, he sounded really nice over the phone. deep and raspy. “um not really, i just arrived like two minutes ago.”

liar, you arrived half an hour ago.

johnny chuckled, sighing a relief. “phew, that’s good. i had to do other things so i was afraid i’ll miss our meetup time.” you heard a little shuffle, “i’m about to exit and headed for the landmark clock tower.”

“okay, see you.”

you looked at your shoes, lips pressing into a line. the guy you were matched with in loveclick only sent you a message or two in a week, just sending stickers. you thought maybe he just wasn’t interested at all. so you didn’t bother to message him back.

in all honesty, you were happy right now. someone asking you out in all the years you’ve even existed. even though you did say you’d change for the better, no one really ever went out of your way to ask you out.

so johnny being the first one to do so made it all special.

“y/n!” you heard him calling your name, seeing his figure approaching closer under the bright sun that you needed to place your hand to see clearly.

your slightly squinted eyes became relaxed when johnny was already in front of you, carrying a toddler whom you recognised. “hey y/n, sorry i had to bring this little guy with me. meet suh youngmin, a year and 11 months.”

he had a son.

“h-hi, guys.” you kept staring at the little boy.

johnny noticed your confusion and amazement at the situation. “was it a jumpscare that i brought a baby? hope it didn’t ruin our date.”

you shook your head, “no. no, i’m completely fine with it. hi there, youngmin.”

youngmin looked at you while he had his dummy on, suddenly shrieking into a smile and almost dropping his dummy that johnny caught it in time despite him carrying the toddler in one arm. “whoa hey, easy there bud. why are you hyper all of a sudden? you weren’t like this on the train.”

his little arms stretched out to you, wanting you to carry him instead. so you did, and the little babe wrapped his arms around your neck. “i guess you like me, huh?”

johnny chucked, “y-yeah, oddly. he rarely goes to anyone for the first time. usually it takes three or more meetings.”

you smiled and patted youngmin’s back. “well i’m honoured, youngmin. shall we go to the ticket kiosk?” you walked ahead because youngmin was already pointing at the balloons.

johnny shielded his eyes, the noontime sun rays glaring at him. once his vision was adjusted and he jogged up just behind you, he had to stop in his tracks when the scene in front of him was something familiar, all too familiar.

then he realised you were the silhouette he encountered ages ago at kahi’s son’s party. his heart beated like crazy once again, maybe that’s why youngmin knew you in an instant.

“johnny?” you called him when you gave the admission bands, “let’s go have lunch first.” you smiled and held youngmin’s hand, “i’m kinda hungry.”

johnny was brushed out of his deep thoughts, “yeah, let’s eat. youngmin likes lasagna. are you okay with it?” your eyes lit up and he honestly thought it was adorable.

“no way, i was craving for lasagna!” you jumped a little and youngmin let out a bubbly giggle. “we’re best friends now. aren’t we, youngmin?” youngmin just put his hands on your cheeks, speaking gibberish under his dummy.

the carnival was packed with a lot of people, slowly filling the place with unbridled joy and laughter. you didn’t remember how long it was since you last went here. probably when you were five? it was when everything was still in place, when everything was still peaceful. it felt warm to witness the busy movement, colourful scenery, and full of.. families.

your attention was broken by youngmin who handed you a cutlery. you let out a gasp that he held a knife.

“oh. give it to me.” you said firmly, “you’re not too big yet to handle big people things.”

johnny was impressed how you handled youngmin. you sounded firm but gentle, your tone not heavy nor scary. just alright for the kid’s liking. “you’re pretty good at this, y/n.”

you shortly looked at him then back to youngmin, giving him a kid spoon to play with instead. “really? i’m still struggling and nervous sometimes. but i get by. i take ECE, you know?”

“ahh,” johnny crossed his arms, “early childhood education? no wonder.”

“i must’ve forgot to mention. did i pass the vibe check?” you teased.

“oh yeah definitely, on youngmin’s book.” johnny chuckled, “he really likes you.”

“maybe because i already ran into this little bear.” you poked youngmin’s nose. “at kahi’s son’s party. i’m the godmother.”

bingo.

“that’s no coincidence.” johnny sat forward, his hands interlocking. “noah’s my godson as well, shame we didn’t run into each other after all this time.”

“shame you left youngmin all alone under the dessert table.” you remembered, giggling softly when johnny’s ware ears slowly turned red. “i wondered who the responsible father was.”

“my fault, teacher y/n.” he playfully raised his arms in defeat. “but not my fault that i was surrounded by a lot of mothers and other ladies’ attentions. say, why weren’t you part of the circle?”

you smirked, this guy.. “maybe because youngmin here caught my attention the most.”

“that i can’t compete with.” johnny smiled, “he’s irresistible.”

“exactly.” you pointed at him as your order was being called by the staff. “oh there goes our order, i’ll go pick it up.”

johnny watched your back when you went to get the food tray. his heart warmed up once again today. talking with you was easy, it was like conversing with an old friend. one of the reasons why he wanted to hang out with you wasn’t because his friends pushed him to. it wasn’t because he wanted to jump into a new relationship straight away.

it was because of youngmin. he needed a mother figure, a role that his ex-girlfriend couldn’t keep and maintain. it had been so long since youngmin had interacted with someone so closely who was like a mother.

not that he expected you to be one, but you were such a natural. and seeing how youngmin opened himself up so relaxed and early with you felt like an elephant was lifted off of his shoulders.

“do you like auntie y/n? you seem to like her a lot little one, and you just met her recently.” he patted youngmin’s head as he drank water and he couldn’t keep himself from blushing on what the young one said after.

“mama.”

johnny coughed, grabbing a piece of tissue just below his cutlery. earning startled yet amused looks from other customers, he bowed his head in apology in return.

“here’s our lasagna, sides. and drinks.” you said brightly, and the scene in front of you made your heart warm: johnny coughing and youngmin giggling on the side. “seemed like youngmin said a funny joke that made you cough on your water.”

“oh you bet he did.” johnny wiped his mouth clean.

you sat down, grinning as you passed their food to them, “care to share?”

as if on cue, youngmin was about to blurt out ‘mama’ when johnny covered his mouth with a dummy. “that’s classified.”

you feigned a gasp, “jokes aren’t secrets, youngmin. what has your dad been teaching you?”

“let’s just eat, okay?” johnny held his cutlery, trying to change subject when youngmin held his hands together. for a toddler, this one knew table manners? and it shocked you that it made you giggle.

johnny chuckled, “alright alright, we have to say grace. my mom’s been teaching him that.”

you nodded and went with the flow, finding this whole thing very wholesome, “okay.”

the day pretty much went by quickly, playing several games and riding kid friendly rides. you’ve been staring at one certain ride since the beginning but was too shy in asking johnny because he brought youngmin along.

but johnny was sharp, he knew what you wanted and decided to take the ride with you because you did help him with minding youngmin almost the whole day. so he stopped by the kiddie pool where parents leave their kids to the staff for a bit.

“you sure leaving him there will be fine?” you asked, holding your sling pouch as you and johnny walked to the queue.

“he’ll be fine. i know one of the lady staff.” johnny reassured you, fixing his hair.

yeri took a peek from behind the column, seeing you and johnny talking very casually. “we’ll be fine, won’t we, youngmin?”

“you really had to tag me along?” taeyong dragged himself next to her, with two kids hugging his legs and one called him a prince while at it.

“well i need a second witness. in case no one believes us that those two actually went for a date.” yeri’s eye smile never leaving, so excited that her ship was starting to sail.

“yeah and made youngmin as their chaperone.” taeyong shook his head. “poor little guy.”

johnny didn’t know how long he was staring at you until you turned around and asked him to hold your bottle of water as you tied your shoelaces. he wasn’t sure how to act when it was just you and him, but he certainly didn’t want this to be any more awkward than it already was.

as you finally stood up, you dusted your dress when the person in front almost bumped into you- they had been messing around for a while now. johnny being the observant one, was quick to avoid the clash from happening by placing himself in between.

so now you found yourself leaning on johnny’s stomach, one of his hands holding your back and the other holding your forearm, this seemed familiar. “watch it.” he said sternly to the person in front. he turned to you after, “you okay?”

you hummed “mhm” and nodded quickly in response but all in your mind was:

abs, abs, abs, abs, abs..

the picture from the dodgeball game at the dean’s camp came running back to you and you felt yourself heating up.

johnny’s eyes squinted and placed his palm on your forehead.

shoot my forehead’s sweaty.

“you sure? you’re heating up.”

“i’m fine!” you flicked your head back and fake laughed to hide your embarrassment. “i’m really okay.”

johnny pulled an ‘i don’t think so grin’ but just let you off the hook ‘cause you did look fine. “okay then, teacher y/n said so.”

you held your chest and sighed, you would’ve been busted if you weren’t careful. but johnny was so cool back there that you couldn’t help but smile.

dummy he’s not your boyfriend, you thought.

after the ride was done and went to pick up youngmin at the kiddie pool, you decided to call it a day as the sun was starting to set into orange. dusk was approaching and it was better for you guys to be home by evening. johnny agreed and walked with you towards the exit.

you patted youngmin’s back as johnny carried the tired toddler. you carried the boy’s bag and johnny felt embarrassed that he needed to rely on you a lot today. he was relaxed when you told him it was alright.

when he took another glimpse of you, you were staring elsewhere and he felt you slightly shake, hand holding on his shirt. your eyes trembled a bit in fear and johnny’s brows furrowed, wondering what got you all shaken up until you mumbled.

“m-mom… d-dad…?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

taglist: @titanmaknae29 @joepomonerof @lovesuhng @studyingthemind @cheyehc @kyeomooniee @geysuuuuh

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catchyhuh · 11 months

Text

TOUCH O THE TISM

lupin’s brain is fucked up! let’s talk about it

and i mean TALK talk about it baby. everyone’s experience with their brain makeup shit is different, and there are many different “symptoms”/traits that tend to overlap between. are they still called mental illnesses. states of mind. conditions? awugh no that sounds even worse. WHATEVER THIS IS ME SAYING this is less about the medical diagnoses, this is just the manifestations of SOME type of neurodivergency that shine through in their weirdo behaviors, habits, and mindscapes. now let’s really go here:

lupin:

we have discussed before his uncanny ability to shut down literally everything to hyperfixate on one task. sometimes for weeks at a time like IN canon, IN canon he will do this shit and not stop until a) he’s reached his goal/the endpoint, or b) he is physically forcibly removed from the subject in question

this will sound nuts to you but i think lupin is sound sensitive. yes i know but listen. he’s always the first to wince/recoil at a loud sound, even if he’s not TRULY bothered by it-- ex: zenigata shouts, lupin KNOWS he’s going to shout, anticipates the volume, even, but still tenses up, even though he’s grinning and actively enjoying the fact that he brought that upon himself. so, to balance that, lupin has decided he’s just going to be louder than whatever’s out there that could bother him. you may have noticed the company he shares hotel rooms with is almost always reserved and quiet unless he is the one instigating and encouraging the rowdiness. boom baby case and point.

all in all it’s surprisingly only something you notice if you spend a significant amount of time around him. he’s autistic i promise. its just. well. he’s hyperfixated on cash and his special interest is getting bitches

jigen:

jigen is very picky. and i mean cheers i’ll drink to that. nobody touch him. nobody speak too loud. nobody fuck with how he likes his drink. nobody touch his gun (you’ll mess it up) NOBODY DO ANYTHING. save for a very, very select few.

light sensitive. not very shocking given the fact his hat is almost more of a signature item for him than his magnum but ANYWAY! it’s why he’s so particular that it must be HIS hat!! the thickness, the way it sits, the way it shadows his eyes especially, all of this is important. “but wait” you could hypothetically maybe be saying, “wouldn’t that extend to his bangs? in the whole shielding him from the light sense. wouldn’t it just make more sense if he always kept his bangs over his eyes like that?” yes! you’re so right if you were saying that! i don’t know why you would be but regardless. uh, yeah, it would make the most sense for him to ALWAYS have them pushed over his eyes, but. have you ever sacrificed comfort for fashion. that slicked back look is NICE dude

all n all jigen is the “‘Nobody had Autism until recently’ right cuz your grandpa who only wore the same type of shirt, took the same sandwich to work every day and knows everything about the inner workings of a 1979 Ferrari was SO neurotypical” meme.

fujiko:

absolute. crown champ of masking. what the fuck. i don’t even think she herself has realized because all of it has been pushed down for so long. which part of this might just be, sorry if this is too realistic and boring but like. diagnosis sexism? people do not notice neurodivergent traits in girls as easily. or that’s what they SAY but they somehow schoolyard bullies can pick up on it very easily! point being, they say that with girls it tends to manifest as talkativeness in the right environments, but when suppressed in those formative years, those girls grow up into women who have a million things to say but only say two of them, meaning her mind is just SWIMMING with insane thoughts and shit. that’s how you get fujikos bro. you have to let that little girl be weird and explain spyro the dragon in exact detail to you or she’ll grow up to be a calculated murderer/world famous thief

now if you actually brought it up she would dismiss you and make some remark like “not wanting polyester to touch your skin isn’t a sensory issue, it’s a lifestyle choice” which. ok yeah haha good one fujicakes but i’ve noticed that you tend to favor dresses/shirts that leave your arms free without any fabric brushing on them, and for someone who’s so focused on the VALUE of fashion you’re cutting the insewn tags off these clothes..? what’s that about baby where did that come from? yeah the joke about “oh yes i totally wear heels because i hate my soles touching the ground, not because i just happen to love high fashion” was funny but you actually do tend to walk around on the balls of your feet barefoot too. that’s not good for you fujiko that can do damage to the nerves in your legs (yes really if you’re reading this and you do that it can cause permanent issues in your legs SO TRY TO BREAK THAT HABIT IF POSSIBLE)

also traces of hyperfixating, just not as obviously visible as it is with lupin. with fujiko it’s almost undercover. like, reading her phone under the table, just happening to suggest watching this one movie that happened to be praised for how accurately it replicates the layout of this one museum the gang has been thinking about infiltrating, a few hyperspecific books mixed in with standard romance schlock she’s most definitely not reading from the library just to pad out that receipt. it’s not so much a conscious choice to microdose feeding the beast so to speak, it’s more that she’s forced herself to commit more to her image than anything, so she’s accidentally pacing herself like that

goemon:

MENTIONED BEFORE BUT WE BELIEVE IN TOUCH AVERSE GOEMON IN THIS HOUSE! DO NOT BE BUGGING THIS GUY SLINGING YOUR ARM AROUND HIS SHOULDER OR YOU WILL GET CHOPPED IN THE GUT!! unless you are one of a select few (are you noticing a trend with the collection here) might also partially be a texture thing too, because i can’t think of another reason someone would subject themselves to the insanely uncomfortable plan of wearing your normal clothes UNDER a tuxedo despite the fact you have to squeeze that giant billowing fabric in there

“bbububut i thought autistic people struggled with eye contact” not goemon ishikawa the 13th bitch. you are getting intensely stared at like a claw machine just barely dangling the prize over the pit. he wants you to know he’s paying attention! he’s listening! sure he might be paying attention to see if he can pick up on nervous tics to tell if you’re lying, and maybe he’s listening that intently to catch you when you slip up, BUT HEY, we don’t know that! to his credit goemon only SOMETIMES realizes how intimidating this can be, and only SOMETIMES intentionally weaponizes it, but… still, very intense eye contact

hell man aside from his stubbornness and pride even his picky food taste might tie into this a bit. anybody who’s been hooked on one specific “safe food” for like two months gets it, especially the fact that goemon can instantly tell when the food is “wrong.” if you cooked this meat for two seconds too long, if you didn’t let the rice sit long enough, if you cheaped out and used some generic alternative-- well on that last one he might not blame you as much because this economy IS pretty rough, but the point is, he can immediately tell and WILL tell the chef to their face “you did this wrong. do better next time.” unfortunately most people don’t take kindly to that and because of goemon’s nature when he’s caught off guard he’ll go “sorry. sorry just let me… let me show you i suppose” and next thing he knows he’s teaching an impromptu cooking course. we went kinda off the rails on this one didn’t we. oops!

zenigata:

if monkey punch meant it when he said “zenigata can’t be stupid, because that would mean lupin is stupid,” then because lupin is insane, zenigata must also, naturally, be insane, in some of the same flavors

the main thing about him is that he’s so damn resilient he doesn’t actually SAY anything unless he really wants to complain. he might be thinking “god why is cottage cheese like this. this is kind of gross” but he’ll still EAT it, “the sun is WAY too bright and i lost my hat AGAIN this fucking SUCKS” but he’s stlil going to be outside because he knows he HAS to be out there. toughing it out and only SLIGHTLY whining about it. really the only time he makes it known outside of offhanded grumbly complaints is when lupin is the source of it. if lupin is like bouncing his leg in the passenger side of the cop car (because god forbid he stuff him in the backseat right) zenigata just grabs his knee and stares at him until lupin is like “oh oops! sorry. is that distracting?” and then 10 minutes later he starts it up again. the line between ‘this is driving my brain insane’ and ‘i just have beef with anything that brings you, personally, delight” is very thin

but ironically zenigata can’t stay still very long himself either. if he’s been stuck sitting for more than 25 minutes he can feel his insides shrinking up and withering away. maybe that’s why he chews on shit like a hyena gnawing off its own leg to escape predators. anything to get the zoomies out dude.

i don’t have to tell you that this bitch is also dangerously intensely hyperfixating right. i don’t have to go into this? like you. we’re looking at the same guy here. right? okay. so long as this point is understood

#i had drs argue about me for years bro i got this one #lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin #jigen #fujiko #goemon #zenigata

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death-in-a-handbasket · 8 months

Note

Your blog has been lacking some headcanon drops. I gotchu homie, I'll change that

I'll talk about our boy cus we love him and his weirdness

I think a very big way to bond with Ayatsuji is by having a hobby. Like any sort of hobby. It doesn't necessarily have to be anything particular, just something that you are passionate about. I think if you have something you're happy and passionate about, and lets say will put plenty of time and money into it, he appreciates it. Because he himself has a hobby of collecting dolls and I think if your hobby coordinates with his, it'd make it even better. A good bonding experience is just sharing the things you both are passionate about.

I think what can correlate with this too is if you have something you like a lot, for instance a TV show or movie or a book, and just talk about that, it's another good way to bond. He's got that thing for hating most people and thinking most people are boring. I think you having wacky hobbies or "weird" obsessiveness over things gets his attention more. Having hobbies and extreme interests in things will amuse him more than not having any at all.

Just a simple hyperfixation exchange would be a great way to spend your time with this dude lmao

(Me telling him my obsession with dinosaurs)

HI HOMIE <33333

thank you for the ask pookie I love you bbg 🫶

AND I TOTALLY AGREE

I feel like most people really aren't that interesting to him and for that reason alone he tends to stay away from most people. He doesn't really live the kind of life suitable for small talk to begin with but even if he did I don't think it comes naturally, a lot of surface level stuff is short lived so the weirder questions you ask, the better. And of course if you ask about his personal hobbies he'll definitely love that my god

He probably loves body doubling while working on hobbies and the idea of a lover doing any kind of passion beside him feels so perfect to him, he just needs someone with the right kind of weird. Love is stored in the infodumping fr fr, the idea that you have something meaningful to talk about is so delightful to him and speaks volumes about your own commitments and passions, which seems like something he'd deeply value. If he's looking for something more than a fling he can't do casual, he needs someone locked in and the fact that you could dedicate yourself to a passion shows that you could equally dedicate yourself to him as well

I also think he prefers weirdos and creative types in general, the more opinionated the better, he loves discussion even if you and him have opposing opinions. If you and him read the same book or watch the same stuff 100% be prepared for active discussion with full arguments and opinions laid out for analysis. Hell, he'd probably find it fun if you and him could mutually shit on something for sport and explain why it's bad and totally sucks. Intellectual stimulation is totally a must, whether it's infodumping or deranged debate, he'd absolutely love it. Plus is you and him had a hobbies that overlapped he'd probably have a field day trading methods and techniques, and even if they didn't overlap, I'm sure he'd find the hobby process interesting in it's own right

basically, fuck yes talk to him about dinosaurs (imagine he takes note of which dino is your fav and makes you a dino figurine as gift)(ahh that would be so cute wahhh)

thank you for the ask broski, sending love as always <333

#discount confessional #bsd #yukito ayatsuji #yukito ayatsuji x reader #bsd ayatsuji #bsd gaiden

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loveislandthegame · 4 months

Note

Is it possible to choose whether we want to have a rivals to lovers relationship with Liam or with Sienna. Is it possible to kiss Hazel? Where are Felicity and Rachel? The writers came up with the stupid podcast concept to give hetero players a new male LI but sapphics only get two options to pick from? From what I have heard MC is forced to kiss a man no matter what answers we give.

There are ten male LIs. Sapphics aren't even an afterthought. I will burst into flames if the company makes a Pride post on their socials to promote their game. I want the Fusebox superfans who keep saying that the writers can't find a way to add more female LIs during the season because the show is heteronormative to explain to me why they can't add new female LIs once the show is over and everyone is hooking up with everyone.

Please don't tell me that one kiss with Hazel would have been a disastrous waste of money. Het players get to romance every trashy man under the sun but sapphics can't choose which character we want to romance. Liam has a threesome with Bea and Hazel. Why would any woman with an ounce of self respect throw herself at the man who took advantage of her trust. Sapphics can't even have one kiss with the girl that we find the most attractive once the season is over? This has to be some sick incel revenge fantasy. The writers must really hate women to turn all the female characters into delusional playthings for the boys. There's no other explanation. There was not a single real female friendship. Everything about this reunion volume was disgusting. I'm surprised the story doesn't end up with polar bear jumping out of the bushes and mauling all the female characters. It'd have made just as much sense as Bea and Hazel fulfilling all of Liam's white boy fantasies. Because women of color are once again written to be toys for the sexist white man to entertain himself with before he confesses his feelings for the main character

we have the exact same thoughts ! this season bothered me for so many different reasons, i was gonna make a final thoughts post but i couldn't articulate it right (and rlly just didn't want to waste time on overthinking this shit lol) the main thing is i'm getting the vibe that someone involved with litg is ... idk, an incel with some sort of fetish for women being humiliated. genuinely wtf is up with all the season 5 islander sexcapades being shoehorned into the plot ??? 🙃

(and for real, there could've easily been a scene where liam & sienna both approach MC, the player chooses one to have a platonic convo with, & then get the "enemies to lovers" proposition if you choose to flirt with them first. i personally wouldn't have picked sienna over clauds, but it would've been nice to actually have choices in an interactive story game. unfortunately that's too much to ask for, since FB fired everyone that actually knew how to code) one could argue it'd make no sense for sienna to be an LI since she had no character development, but shit, neither did liam

and i have no idea why felicity wasn't there, in fact, i don't think she was even mentioned ? not bothering to create sprites for the other off-screen islanders is one thing, but she has a sprite. the two casa guys who didn't make it to the villa still showed up, so there's no reason why she couldn't have . it's just one of those things that further show that FB put zero thought into this reunion. the plot was all over the place and there's so many problems that it'd be impossible to list them all in one post. if bella's sprite wasn't in the files ahead of time i would've been convinced FB created this pile of shit the literal day before it was released

indeed, you're forced to kiss a guy during the game (it's already ridiculous enough that we were forced to play that, but if i had to kiss anybody i would've rather kissed hazel than any of the dudes...) i've read some people say that wlw players were "lucky" that we didn't get the liam conversation where you're forced to pick a guy (it's because bea is automatically the secondary LI) but we really aren't ... there was a point where i considered just sticking with jin so i could play the game without bursting a blood vessel. i know that loyal OG LI romancers had a miserable time as well, but on a claudia route your relationship is constantly belittled, disrespected, & worst of all centered around the guys you both used to be with. even at the damn reunion

i believe the threesome was with sienna? but i'd rather eat gravel than do a replay to confirm that. either way, your point about hazel and bea being reduced to objects for a white dude is 100% correct, it's so horrible

not to mention if both sienna and hazel are canonically interested in women in some capacity, why the hell were they not LIs? genuinely the only thing this showed me is that FB thinks straight men sexualising sapphic women is acceptable. i will also be bursting into flames if they have the audacity to make a pride post after this (they really didn't learn from the backlash they got from seduction games, that story on the matchmaker app where the canonically hetero MC considers pretending to be bi to "excite" a man 🙄)

i really miss when FB actually wrote multi-faceted characters, literally every single woman this season except (romanced) claudia & bea was "no thoughts head empty," just delusional, mean, goofy as hell, one dimensional, victims of plot induced stupidity, lacking common sense, lacking an understanding of consent. bombastic side eye, criminal offensive side eye

it doesn't help that the game makes it very clear you're "meant to" follow a certain path, and when you don't, it ruins the girls even more. in my playthrough i saved emel because she was sweet and i liked her personality...only for her to immediately become a clone of sophie, to the point that game literally acted like the things that happened to sophie before she was dumped (e.g. getting voted for all the bad categories in that couple challenge) happened to emel . i would say "idk how FB could possibly screw up this badly," but i already know it's because they're creating these seasons in a maximum of four months. hell, i wouldn't be surprised if it was just one singular month. absolutely zero proofreading or quality assurance testing in sight luv

gonna wrap it up here before i start writing a whole novel, but i will say: as a black queer player i'm honestly just sad about how FB continuously fucks up lgbt & poc representation 😪 at the end of the day "it's just a game," and all, but i'm still disappointed. we really deserve better😭

#love island the game #litg #litg season 8 #litg s8 #litg tempting fate #litg spoilers #spoilers #long post

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so-emo-i-fell-apart · 2 years

Note

Hi I'm newish with FOB can you suggest some songs and maybe explain what's happening rn?

Hello Anon! Absolutely!

Right away a good place to start if you're overwhelmed is the Believers Never Die Volumes 1 and 2. Kinda a highlight reel, has all the popular songs. I'm the kind of person who likes to hear a band in order when I deep dive into them so Evening out with your girlfriend is also a good place to start, though many of us pretend this doesn't exist and to the best of my knowledge they don't play any of the songs live. If you prefer to skip then of course hop right into Take this to your grave. Ik you said SOME songs but I really love everything theres no such thing as a bad FOB song. If you're looking for what they might play at a concert I haven't been to a show where Dance Dance, Sugar, or Thnks Fr Th Mmrs haven't been played. And Every show I've been to has closed with Saturday.

Onto today's news. I'm sure you've already heard that a single dropped yesterday called "Love From The Other Side" Its wonderful. Album is coming out March 24th. the main news today is about Joe.

Quick rundown on the members Patrick is the singer and sometimes rhythm guitarist some times pianist whatever he's gotta do. Fun fact he originally played drums which is why we have the wonderful drum off video. Anyways he overheard Joe (who we will circle back to) talking in a book store and in true Patrick fashion jumped into the conversation. Joe invites him to play with him and Pete and thats where they get their start. Pete is the bassist, frontman, and screamer/some backing vocals he has written most of the songs and had been in a few bands previous which is how he knew Joe (and Andy but we'll get to that later), there's a lot of info on Pete but were just doing the basics so moving on. Joe is the lead guitar and does some backing vocals as well, as mentioned before Fall Out Boy basically only exists because of him. At the very beginning the three went through a couple of rhythm guitarists and drummers before Patrick took up rhythm guitar and enter Andy Hurley. Andy is from Milwaukee and knew Pete from shows he would travel to there. Andy is the drummer and all around cool dude.

Anyways back to the news about Joe. Last night he posted on both his personal instagram and the Fall Out Boy Instagram that he was going to be taking a break due to his mental health. Yes it's not ideal timing but anyone who has any sort of mental illness knows it goes downhill randomly and it doesn't care whats going on. I for one am thankful he has recognized that he needs this break instead of trying to push through this and only getting worse. There will be jokes here and there, because this is fob they are goofy nerds, but in general we are respecting Joe's decision and hoping for him to feel better. I'm not sure how far the other three are going to go without him. Like interviews and what not that they're already scheduled for probably will still happen as we saw with jimmy kimmel last night. As of right now as no tour is scheduled I think they will at least hold off until he's back for that but it's really up to Joe and the rest of the band for what will happen with all of this.

As always please be respectful of Joe while he's away.

Hope this helps anon!

#Asks #Anon #Fall out boy #fob #fob8 #jtroh #pw #ps #hurley #long post #sorry theres so much i love talking about my boys

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arobinwithoutbatman · 4 months

Text

((Alrighty! Comics time! Pretty sure I'm up to Knightfall Crusade volume 2.

And we're starting off strong with the fucking clown

...I'm sorry, this director is actually going along with Joker's bullshit? Willingly?!?!

I'm... somewhat concerned about the fact that Jean Paul is now being secretly filmed and Joker is at least smart enough to notice something has changed other than the obvious suit changes I mean

Yeah Joker's gonna lose his shit cause that's not Bruce under the cowl and Jean Paul is very much falling into burnout and despair because he has no outside connections

...why do I get the feeling that's not Tim? And that everyone is going to be very surprised when 'Batman' doesn't give a shit?

--------------------

I was right, it's not Tim and Joker is steadily getting more pissed

Well at least he was nice enouhg to check up on the poor college student caught up in all this

I hate everything about this

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Jean... buddy... the system isn't a good thing

And Joker's clocked it's a different person under the cowl

Yup. JP's getting worse! Somehow. Didn't realise he could get worse but hey, life long brainwashing will do that

Gordon's marriage is on the rocks too

...listen... I hate that JP was cheated out of killing the Joker, frankly the man drives me nuts... but there is so much harm being done to Batman's reputation that's going to take forever to unravel

----------------------

Immigration story, okay. This came out in the 90s if I remember correctly so yeah, this was definitely a big topic at the time

Jfc, can this man get any further from the original ideas Bruce had?

Yup, just like I thought, JP has completely lost what little nuance he was able to figure out in situations. Yeah, this fictional woman arrived illegally because it was the only way to get her stolen child back

Baby's in California? Oh honey... you're on the wrong coast

Lol Gordon saying "You should have been a detective!" Because it's true. Bruce was. JP isn't and it's becoming more and more obvious

Human trafficking is also an issue... not surprised comics would attempt to talk about it

----------------------

Oh good, JP's actually trying to resist his programming again after the previous issue

...uhhhh... buddy? I dunno who you are but uhhh there's probably all sorts of diseases in long dead bones and any surviving bone marrow that's likely fucking up your health and your brain

And JP's finally actually trying to do the detective work! And starting to ask questions about what he's actually doing and what he believes! Finally! Do your shadow work, dude!

----------------

Ooof poor guy basically being walking acid

...okay... and whomst the fuck is this hero?

School teacher who picked up a power during an alien invasion? Mkay

-------------------

OKay back to the crazy bone eating serial killer

Oh hey Alfred! Hey Bruce!

Tim!!!! My boy is back! Finally!

...briefly... and he's dealing with Cluemaster and the Speedboyz still just on the downlow. WHich is probably gonna come up in his solos whihc is after Knightfall which means I get to see my girl Steph

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Lunch break before I do this next one

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Okay, back to it.

Mutated former cop facing off against JP? Mkay

I really don't like this particular set of street thugs but that might just be because I'm having a hard time parsing their phonetically written accent

And Abbatoir is still out and about

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Creatures of Clay? Ah fuck, Clayface is showing up, isn't he?

Ooooohhhhh Leslie's pissed and understandably so. Bruce is gonna have a hell of a time explaining that it wasn't him under the cowl for the last... however long it's been

Lady Clayface? Huh

Wow... realy just let her go splat

Huh... Clayface has to pass his thing on and infect others just to deal with the pain?

DIfferent name too. Awwww Preston and his wife are expecting! But now they really need to double down on finding whatever disease he has

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So Abbattoir took little baby Cassius Clay and Clayface 3 and Lady Clay just wanted him back but now, both are going to prison

And also he's got his cousin now so that's not good

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Penguin? Mkay

HAH Gordon and Penguin just ripping into each other, I love it

Damn... Jim's seriously willing to do anything to make sure his wife is okay

Oh good, JP was in fact working on it, he's just worse at communicating than Bruce is

And Penguin's inspired once more and likely thinks JP is no longer an imposter or stand in

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Snipers now? Well then

Hunters turned hired killers... I hate them

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Oh shit back to Abattoir

And another appearance from Tim!

You tried, Tim, not your fault JP's mind is such a mess

But that's gonna be a huge stain on Bruce's legacy; multiple people died tonight because he was more focused on vengenace

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He feels righteous?!

Nope. That's it. He's just Azrael at this point. And trauma. Sooooo much trauma

Yup, he's just gonna kill again. Gordon's recognised it and destroyed the Bat Signal because JP doesn't care

FUck me, I hate this arc and desperately want it to be over. I wouldn't be reading this at all if it weren't providing much needed context for what Tim's up to and why

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Judging by the page count, this is the last one in this volume and thank fuck for that!

Ah. Gunhawk. Seeking medical attention for his wife

Massive gunfight in a hospital involving flamethrowers yeah that's real smart -.-

#ooc #wic reads comics

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dean-bean01 · 11 months

Text

So… Akuma-kun 2023

I watched it, with no idea about the original series. Honestly wasn’t that bad, although the whole thing about making friends just makes me cringe. Just that “friendship is magic” stuff ig? Honestly though, love the tidbit about how people theorize that Christmas was just assimilated into Christianity: As an atheist, I love to see it.

Gonna go into spoiler territory-

So, the fact that the woman in the beginning says that “After I met Akuma-kun, I kept having nightmares” annoys me so much after the reveal. Like, you had one nightmare! Also still so weird that they go off about Akuma-kun being raised by demons when he was raised by that weird Angel guy. Like, what’s up with him? Dude just gives a kid a knife and says to let the light out or something… Also so happy to see that that guy points out that OG Akuma-kun literally just kidnaps Akuma-kun II. My family and I, when the scene came up, all just came to the realization that “he wasn’t abandoned, dude was kidnapped- wtf?!” And then Angel Man said it. Just validating…

Also so weird seeing the deal with half-demons being discriminated against. Like, in this world, I get it, but in my oc world, half-demons are actually stronger in a way. Although this comes with the fact that demons are also just normal people, but with quirks from MHA. Came up with that idea before I watched it, but best way to explain it-

Also the fact that in one episode we and hear (I watched dubbed) Akuma-kun II’s voice wavering/cracking when he tells his dad that his hotcakes are his favorite and the next dude shoots a copy of him with a gun no problem. Just, shit man. Honestly so weird.

Also crossing my fingers for a second season: I gotta know if the demon lady eating Akuma-kun’s heart had anything to do with that talk about becoming a demon. Also would be kinda funny if he did become one, cause then that little girl would be right! Dude would totally know a thing or two about becoming a demon if he became one… you get the gist.

Also so grateful that the only real pervy stuff is just the demon lady / Mummy Chick being naked and that we just move on from it, although it takes a bit to realize that her being not properly dressed is just her norm, but that’s a me thing?

Also the fact that for a good two seconds I thought Satan basically said, “Okay, this kid tried, fucked up BAD, but you know what? Fine, I’ll go possess the maid and tell him what an awful job he did.” Like, good two seconds thought it was Satan in a maid outfit and was laughing my internal head off. I only giggled out loud. Speaking of the actual demon who possessed her, the maid- is it possession if the person or whatever is dead?- did anything they say actually become plot relevant? Because nothing I can remember them saying is… yet! Again, crossing my fingers for season two.

Only after watching it all did I learn there was the first one and the 2023 one was set 30 years after the OG. So that was fun.

Also, real quick, yes, I did only watch one of the outro things all the way through. It was the one where OG Akuma-kun drops that he ages differently in the demon realms or whatever they called them. And no, I did not watch another one through all the way because A) I didn’t watch the OG show and don’t care for weird bat thing and green eyeball guy B) Their voices were so high pitched it hurt me C) Their voices were also overpowered by the music, or at the same general volume, making it a pain to listen to, and I didn’t even want to read the subtitles for them. Only good it did was save me from having to listen to any of them sing. They can sing during the show, not after.

Having fun knowing that the only things I’ve posted are flowers and now I’m just dropping this in there with it because… why not? I want to know what other people who watched it think.

#Akuma-kun #Akuma kun #Akuma-kun 2023 #Akuma kun 2023 #Anime #anime review #anime reaction

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hopefulfuturenovelauthor · 2 years

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Cheerleader’s Friend The Freak

… so this can be read platonically for characters, but it can also be viewed as an Eddie Munson x reader short fic

If people like this I was thinking I would more just do prequel one-shots/mini series about how they become friends or like how they get into a relationship sort of thing. Just comment if you’d like that and request if you have any ideas.

Also, I just wanted to write one more thing before characters die and Eddie possibly goes too. 😭. But do enjoy while I contemplate how I will survive Volume 2.

Warnings: none I can think of, if you have one let me know so I can add it

also please do not copy my writing, thanks!

—————

“Steve, why are you calling me and freaking out? I will not help you get rid of another demo-whatever’s body. That was a one time thing and it only happened because we put it in the Byers’ fridge.”

“No, no, Y/n, you got to listen to me. I just need you to call the police and report myself, Robin, Dustin, and Max missing if I do not call you before sundown. Okay? That’s all, seriously, nothing more. Just dial 9-1-1, and report your emergency.”

“So, are you assuming that you going radio silent is an emergency in my mind. Do you really think I’m going to call and be like ‘oh no, Steve The Hair Harrington isn’t returning my calls, I’m a helpless piece of hot ass that needs a man at all times because without one I have no purpose’.”

“Haha, very funny. Will you please just do it?”

“Yeah, dude, of course I will, I just- is everything okay? Because I can help more if you need anything ya know. You can keep me in the loop and shit.”

“Look, it’s just, Henderson and Mayfield think that Munson didn’t actually kill Chrissy, they think it’s some upside downy thing. I can’t explain it. I just wanted to make sure that if we went missing someone would know.”

“Chrissy’s dead?”

“Shit, right, Y/n, I’m so sorry. I know you were friends and I know that hasn’t been released to the public yet. I never meant for you to find out this way.”

“It’s- it’s fine. But um, Eddie, they think that Eddie did this?”

“Yeah, it’s real messed up. The guy’s always been a freak though.”

“Steve, shut up! Where is he? Steve, god damn it, you didn’t just tell me all of this to not tell me where the hell you are going did you?”

“I- no, yes, Y/n I don’t know. Look we are checking out Rick Lipton’s place, we think Eddie might be there, just please don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t do anything stupid, I promise.”

“Okay, good, I’m holding you to that.”

You did something stupid. You grabbed your car keys and drove straight to Lipton’s. As the second most popular cheerleader you knew Chrissy well. You knew how Jason was going to take the news of Chrissy’s death too. He would be far more driven than you to find the person that did this. In fact, as much as violence was on your mind, you knew with Jason it was much worse.

You made it to Lipton’s quickly, but Steve, Robin, Dustin, and Max were already there. The door to the shed was even cracked enough that you could tell that they were in there. Hesitantly and slowly you made your way to the door, opening it with caution. Entering the room you were faced with Eddie and Steve. Robin, Max, and Dustin still had their backs to you.

“Y/n,” Eddie said, with slight surprise. His eyes lit up at your sudden appearance.

“Y/n?” Steve questioned.

“Eddie,” you pushed past those in front of you to make your way to the long haired metal head in front of you. Your arms easily found their way wrapped around him. He returned the gesture holding on to you with just as much assurance.

“You two know each other?” Dustin asked as the two of you pulled away.

“Yeah, um, Eddie and I are actually friends,” you offered up to the group.

“Yeah, Y/n’s the coolest girl I know,” Eddie added in, looking your way before playfully wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Actually, Erica is the coolest for we know,” you said turning your head towards Eddie, “but yeah I think you get the gist,”

“Erica?” Robin was confused.

“Yeah, I babysit her from time to time when the Sinclair’s need me to,” you responded with a shrug of your shoulders.

“Yeah, why do you think I let her play with us?” Eddie said, looking at Dustin specifically.

“What?” Dustin asked, absolutely uncertain of what was happening.

“Dnd, I mean she didn’t learn by herself. We both made characters and everything, it was really fun. Eventually I read one of the campaigns and Dmed for her,” you explained with a large smile on your face that made Eddie smile too. Steve continued to looked back and forth between the two of you, not knowing what to say.

“You are a dungeon master?” Dustin’s face grew a grin. You loved the nerdy kid like he was your own brother that you actually got along with.

“Um, can a chest be a mimic?” You responded, laughing at the confrontation.

“Oh my god, she’s a nerd,” Robin commented.

“I have never denied that,” your face shifts into a more contemplative expression.

“She’s a nerd, Eddie, the cheerleader is a nerd,” Dustin looks like he’s about to bounce up and down out of excitement.

“I know Dustin, we are friends,” Eddie said slowly while nodding his head.

You nodded as well “yeah, I like rock music too, just to put it out there, huge book geek as well, especially fantasy and science fiction.”

“Um, anything else?” Dustin asked eagerly.

“I like ghostbusters, the breakfast club, Star Wars, and back to the future. Also, uncommon opinion, but I think the Jedi and the Sith both have lifestyles and methods and ideologies I don’t agree with. Also, the dark side is kind of cool, I’d definitely pick a red lightsaber, I’d love to be an emperor or a lord or darth something that sounds so cool,” eventually you just started to rant.

“Wouldn’t it be empress or lady?” Steve’s brow furrowed as he questioned you.

“Why the hell would I want to be a lady when I could be a lord, also emperor sounds like it has more power and is more intimidating. Plus, I don’t quite care for gendered titles since the male ones are always better or more respected,” you stated with attitude as you crossed your arms. Eddie and you have always shared similar opinions on social norms and societies ways of conformity.

“You are definitely Eddie’s kind of person,” Dustin commented.

“Why is it not that he’s my kind of person?” You questioned the child that seemed to be taken aback.

“I think we can both say that we are both each other’s type,” Eddie grabbed your shoulders trying to reel you back in.

“Type?” Steve’s voice came out high pitched compared to normal.

Ignoring the poor and confused man you faced Eddie, “Are you flirting with me now, Munson?” You said jokingly in front of your friends and acquaintances.

“Maybe, that bother you?” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows and moved a little closer to your face before you both ended up bursting with laughter. Suddenly the two of you were red in thhe face from the humor you had provided yourselves. Eddie was wheezing while you were hitting your knee from laughter.

“Oh, that was good, that was funny,” you pointed at Eddie while you wiped a tear from your eye.

“What the hell?” Robin asked.

“I don’t understand what I’m seeing,” Steve said like he was detached from his body. You could tell by his face that he seemed to be scarred for life. He obviously did not understand yours and Eddie’s interactions.

“Are you two…” Dustin trailed off.

“What!?! No!” You protested while Eddie simultaneously responded.

“Ughm, never,” Eddie said quickly after clearing his throat.

“Looks like Dustin has a new other older friend to replace you with, Steve,” Robin teased your mutual friend.

“Shut up Robin,” Steve rebuked the girl's claim.

“Could you all shut up!” Max raised her voice at all of you. In all honesty, you had forgotten she was there. Max looked at each person standing in the room before speaking again, “we have bigger problems, the first one being what actually happened to Chrissy.”

Eddie tensed, and the air in the room went stale. You all looked at each other, knowing this would be one hell of a villain to beat. But the campaign had already started and hopefully your characters would survive.

—————

once more if people want prequel’s let me know, comment or request, thanks!

Eddie Munson tag list: @emilyquinn112, @moshpot24x, @dragon-ash13, @quiet-pls, @moonlighy,

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things season 4 #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #robin buckley #dustin henderson #we swear on dustin’s mother #max mayfield #max hargrove

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leeknowsredeyeliner · 3 years

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lockers and exes - nakamoto yuta

nakamoto yuta x fem reader

summary: your first day of school since the pandemic but this time, with your boyfriend, yuta... and a few appearances from your exes.

genre: slice of life, fluff !!!, suggestive

word count: 1.2k+

warning: yuta is dirty minded

note: hi !! it’s been a month since i last wrote but i wanted to put something out there. this is just yuta being cute with his reader gf :)

second note: i don’t write for nct but this gave me yuta vibes so here we are. now enjoy haha

navigation.

ring ring ring

“are you at school yet? or did you sleep through your alarms?”

“well, good morning to you too, yuta. i’m running to the lockers as we speak,” you lie as you trudge through the main floor of the school.

“you’re the worst liar ever. you’re a panting mess if you do so much as speed walk.” he’s not wrong whatsoever, you’re completely out of shape. then again, you were never in shape to begin with. “and a breathing mess in other situations,” he teases with an emphasis on the word ‘other’. his smirk is basically visible through the phone.

“okay then, asshole. well, you wouldn’t want me to damage my pretty face walking up the stairs. would you?” you half joke. yuta loves your pretty face but wouldn’t mind seeing you hurt yourself. just for his own entertainment.

“i mean, i guess you’re right. just hurry please. these juniors are scary.” you chuckle at the decrease in volume as he speaks in a hushed tone.

“shouldn’t they be the ones scared?” you respond at a similar tone, mocking him. “you’re a senior. and everyone’s scared of seniors.”

“for some odd reason,” you wanted to add.

seniors are just a group of students a year above juniors. simple as that. what’s so threatening about them?

“but there’s like a hundred of them and only one of me. they could jump me, y/n!” yuta’s cute, paranoid side shows through his voice.

“you, sir, are being very dramatic. now, bye!” you press the big red button before yuta could retaliate.

you peek over the rows of lockers before you, in search of yuta. once you spot him standing in the aisle of your locker, you speed walk over. his back is facing you so you decide to greet him in a special way.

your fingers zap the sides of his torso and he jumps up in shock. he gets a hold of your wrists before you back away and wraps your arms around him, your chest flushed up against his backpack.

yuta spins you around to face him, “hi there.”

“oh! hey,” you joke with him as if you hadn’t noticed who he was.

you smile at him, adoring his face despite the mask. his eyes are your favorite feature of his anyways — right next to his pearly whites. you haven’t seen yuta face to face since you started dating during quarantine. the only times you’d see his beautifully sculptured face was over a facetime call and random selfies he’d send with his dad or sisters.

while unlocking your locker, yuta leans against the locker beside yours as he admires you. the way you fix your hair after bending down to turn the locker’s dial. the way you lift the bottom of your mask to breathe a bit more comfortably. the way you bob your head to the music playing in your head. the way you look up at him after feeling his eyes on you.

“what are you looking at?” you question in a bit of a teasing tone.

“you, of course.”

you move around your locker’s door, over to yuta. your hand makes it’s way to his hair to play with it.

“i’m glad you’re you, yuta,” your other hand resting on his chest.

“that’s the sweetest thing you’ve said to me,” he purred. he waits for you to explain what you mean, whether it be a joke or more praising.

“um, excuse me,” a voice calls from behind you. “i need to get to my locker.” he explains further with just a point of his finger. his finger pointing towards yuta.

you know ten’s locker is beside yours. it was hard to ignore the fact during your freshman year. him being your ex and all.

though, it shouldn’t count if you were 10 and 11 years old and in elementary school.

it is odd how he continuously speaks about you as if you’re still friends. he moved abroad to germany for two years then came back bragging to people about how he dated you.

now, facing him is awkward. he has no clue you know about the things he’s said about you.

“my bad, dude.” yuta excuses himself and moves over to a locker across from yours, his view being just your back now.

you briefly put away a few of your belongings before turning to yuta. “was that the fifth grade ex?” he questions. you threaten him with your eyes. ten’s just a few feet away from you and could easily eavesdrop on your conversation.

rather than verbally shutting him up, you put a finger up to your masked lips, followed by a slight nod.

“are you driving me home after school?”

“only after a quick little date, pretty girl,” his eyes crinkle and you wish you could see the smile on his face.

“pretty girl?” you suddenly blurted out. “you haven’t seen my face yet.”

“i don’t need to see your face to know how pretty my girlfriend is.” his words are so smooth leaving his mouth, you wonder how he comes up with what to say. especially how he knows the right words to say because they always make your heart flutter. “but you’re right. i should have a look at your face before classes start. for a little motivation to get myself through the day.”

he pulls down your mask, with your consent, enough to sneak a peek at your face. and he’s met with your tongue poking out your mouth in a playful manner, bringing a chuckle out of the boy before you.

“as expected, a pretty girl.” the softness of his voice drops, “my pretty girl.” he then lands a slap to your cheek. not to the point where he’d hurt you but enough that you can feel a slight burning sensation.

“come on,” you whine. “not in public,” you say with embarrassment, fiddling with his hand. you aren’t actually complaining, you both know you enjoyed it.

“excuse me, guys,” a voice interrupts from beside you and yuta. “i need to open my locker. could you move a bit?”

you pull yuta a bit to the side, a bit distraught.

because what the fuck is this? a reunion of the exes?

this time, it’s your ex best friend, doyoung. who also happens to be your ex ‘almost’. but better known as, ‘traitor’ or ‘liar’.

he’s someone that should never be associated with. but it worries you that him and yuta would oddly get along if doyoung pushed his fake friendly act towards him.

“what’s on your mind, pretty girl?”

“nothing important,” you smile behind your mask.

“by the way.” he slings one backpack strap off and unzips the smaller pocket. “i doubt you had breakfast so here.” a banana. he pulls out a banana.

“i feel like there’s a catch,” you mutter, anticipating for what could leave his mouth. yuta has a filthy mind and never fails to express his feelings or thoughts. and of course you’d know, he’s rubbed off on you for too long.

it wouldn’t be a problem if doyoung weren’t standing a foot away.

“look at you, pretty girl. you’re so sma-”

you immediately cut him off, “just tell me what it is, nakamoto.”

“i have to watch you eat it, of course.”

a filthy mind indeed.

an abrupt cough comes from next to you. looking over, doyoung’s holding a water bottle and coughing uncontrollably. his fist hitting his chest repeatedly to help himself.

“you are never coming back to my locker.”

navigation.

#yuta #nakamoto yuta #nct #nct 127 #yuta nakamoto x reader #yuta x reader #yuta imagines #nakamoto yuta imagines #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines #yuta scenarios #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct fluff #yuta fluff #nct fanfic #nct 127 fanfic #yuta fanfic

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from-the-dark-past · 3 years

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Interview with Anders Ohlin in The Black Metal Murders: English translation

Translator’s note: Black metal-morden (English: The Black Metal Murders) is a radio documentary from 2017 produced by Radio Sweden (download). It’s about Mayhem and the Norwegian black metal scene in the ‘90s and contains interviews with Jørn “Necrobutcher” Stubberud, Kjetil Manheim, Eirik “Messiah” Norheim and Anders Ohlin (Pelle Ohlin’s younger brother).

Here, I’ve translated the parts where Anders Ohlin speaks into English (from Swedish). I’ve added time-stamps and short descriptions for the different sections of the interview.

I am working on translating the interviews with Necrobutcher, Manheim and Messiah and will post them soon.

1:51 - 6:35 [Talking about him and Pelle getting into extreme metal]

Anders: We’d started listening to hard rock and it was… We’d, like, worked through all of those… Judas Priest and Iron Maiden.

Narrator: It’s the mid-1980s in Västerhaninge, a suburb of Stockholm. Pelle Ohlin lives here. He plays in the extreme metal band Morbid and his stage name is Dead. Pelle has introduced his five-years-younger brother to hard rock. Together, they’ve worked through all of the main bands.

Anders: And you, like, hungered for this… This Other.

Narrator: The ‘Other’ that younger brother Anders is talking about is extreme metal; music that is faster, darker and harder. A progression of hard rock. Music that isn’t easy to get your hands on at this time. Anders is in his early teens and has gotten his first girlfriend.

Anders: It was my first relationship and it was super-exciting, and I was at her house, she lived in Jordbro, which is, like, the neighbouring suburb.

Narrator: Anders’ girlfriend’s older sister has an LP that Anders simply must show his older brother Pelle.

Anders: It was, like, you knew it was good music, and it was that Destruction record.

Narrator: Anders sees the German death metal band Destruction’s cover and it’s enough for him to understand that this must be good music. [...]

Anders: This. This here isn’t Judas Priest and it isn’t Iron Maiden; it’s something else. I’ve got show this fucking record to Pelle.

Narrator: Anders nags [his girlfriend’s older sister] to borrow the LP. He’s allowed to, but only for the day, so he bikes home in the rain from Jordbro to Västerhaninge as quickly as he can.

Anders: And it was like [excited noise], like a cartoon; the evil wolf, their eyes bulge out and we both ran -- because we hadn’t heard the LP, only seen the cover -- ran to the record player och then Mom walks up and is like: ‘Stop! You’re forbidden from using the gramophone.’ And it was like, fucking hell, is it going to die here and then we explained to Mom -- ‘This is an extreme record and we’ve borrowed it for the day and it’s going back tomorrow,’ -- and Mom was super-harsh and was like: ‘It doesn’t matter. [...]’ And then we started negotiating and agreed that we could record the LP onto cassette [because you don’t need volume for that]. So, it was on full-blast the entire night and we recorded it and stood bent over the record scratches and were like,‘Shit, this is good stuff’.

Narrator: Pelles hard rock style stands out against the usual sweatpant-Bagheera-jacket [style], not least the music.

Anders: The ideals that existed at that time were that you were supposed to look like Arnold Schwarzenegger, which neither he nor I did [laughs]. You were supposed to be handsome and cool and have some fucking helipad on your head.

Translator’s note: Anders is talking about a flat-top haircut commonly referred to as a ‘helikopterplattafrisyr’ -- helipad haircut -- in Sweden. Think H.R. Haldeman. I’m not sure what the English term for this haircut is.

Narrator: Anders and Pelle are apart of a small subculture; extreme metal, with subgenres such as trash metal, death metal and black metal, which provokes with its satanic and morbid symbols. Pelle’s band Morbid pushes the limits of what music can sound like. With his stage-name Dead, Pelle sings on the demo December Moon. The new subculture is not embraced by the adult world.

Anders: Like, we faced this fucking cultural oppression as hardrockers. It was that time-period… And especially if you wanted to do something that was worse than hard rock; it was completely judged.

14:52 - 15:53 [Talking about Pelle being bullied]

Anders: He was beaten at school and to such an extent that he actually died for a while, or however you put it.

Narrator: There’s an explanation to Pelle’s obsession with death. At 13, he was bullied at school and once, he was beaten so badly that his spleen burst. Pelle’s brother Anders Ohlin tells the story.

Anders: He was beaten to death and had some near-death experience as he was laying in the hospital and he kept coming back to that all the time, and I think you can see that as some sort of theme in his songs too. Like, it’s always about the fact that he was actually there and touched something that he doesn’t know what it is, and that was the engine in all that. He was definitely [at the bottom of the pecking order] at school, precisely because he was a bit… He had his special... his special style and was, like, uncompromising, and that was what singled him out, I’d say, markedly from other teenagers.

18:07 - 18:30 [Talking about Pelle’s depression]

Anders: He would neglect to eat, just to get a cassette tape out or arrange a gig somewhere.

Narrator: Anders Ohlin, Pelle’s brother.

Anders: To be a bit harsh, I think that the others gave up at some point. And that’s my personal interpretation. That he suddenly turns around and notices that he hasn’t got the gang with him. And I think that destroyed him.

21:50 - 22:30 [Talking about Pelle’s suicide]

Anders: At first, I was actually really pissed at him… Or, like, angry, enraged. I thought that he’d abandoned us -- which he has. That it was so shitty of him; to just take off and leave this big fucking abscess to the rest of us that just kept growing and growing as the years passed.

Narrator: Christmases become especially painful for the Ohlin family, because that was the time Pelle usually came home.

Anders: No one felt good on Christmas Eve. It was like a fucking ghost all Christmas. Brutal. So, I remember that I couldn’t celebrate Christmas at all for a very long time.

1:06:39 - 1:09:31 [Talking about how he and Pelle’s Swedish friends remember him and his life today]

Anders: All of his Swedish friends see him as this exuberantly happy guy that spews ideas and is funny and has a sense of humor and stuff. Then, it’s like a line is drawn when he goes to Norway and they see him as introverted and mysterious and, like, difficult. And that’s two opposite images.

Narrator: The Pelle Myth is associated with a lot of darkness and death but that’s not how his brother Anders and Pelle’s Swedish friends remember him.

Anders: I think that’s been the devastating part, but it, like, helped him build… strengthen that myth. It’s hard being that funny dude and saying that you’re, like, Satan. It’s hard, it becomes, like, silly.

Narrator: Anders is often reminded of Pelle. Usually because of happy memories but also because of that image that he is fighting to remove; the image that Øystein took of Pelle’s corpse which spread because it became the album cover of a Mayhem bootleg, Dawn of the Black Hearts. The image lives its own life on the internet.

Anders: It’s difficult. It’s very difficult.

Narrator: Pelle’s fans often want to become Facebook friends with Anders; he receives 3-5 friend requests per day. Sometimes, the people sending the friend requests have themselves shared the image on their social channels.

Anders: You say you want to be my friend yet you have an image of my brother from when he’s just killed himself and like… body parts all over the wall. Would you think it was okay if I had an image of your brother like that? ‘What,’ they excuse themselves. ‘Oh, fuck, I’d forgotten that I had that image, that’s… Of course, I’ll remove it and I’m ashamed.’

Narrator: When Anders asks people to remove the image, most do.

Anders: I’m terrified for when my children will start to Google those images… Øystein’s parents inherited the rights after Øystein died and [Øystein’s dad] has destroyed the images and I’ve received the rights, gotten to take over the rights from Øystein’s dad, so if anyone uses them in any form is printed media, I can sue the shit out of them.

Narrator: It’s a small comfort every time one of Pelle’s fans tells Anders how much Pelle means.

Anders: Most often, they have some story. They tell me how they’ve had a tough period in life and how they’ve, like, really been at a crossroads or something and feel that they received guidance from Pelle’s music. That warms -- That makes you happy. That really warms your heart.

Narrator: Pelle’s grave is well-visited and every now and then, there’s a handwritten letter or a box of snus by it.

#mayhem #the true mayhem #per ohlin #pelle ohlin #per yngve ohlin #jorn stubberud #necrobutcher #kjetil manheim #eirik norheim #manheim #messiah #black metal #black metal history #true norwegian black metal #lords of chaos #my translation

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hangovercurse · 4 years

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Crash Into Me

You’d been MGK’s assistant for years, but you never thought you had a chance at anything more with him until one stoplight changes everything.

Request: “ok im so sorry if this is 2 specific but ive had this idea for ages abt pining!colson x an insecure/clueless!reader who has been his assistant forever. she gets into a car accident and calls him hours later to tell him that a temp will be taking her place for a few weeks (bc of injuries) and he's like ?? why?? she explains nonchalantly, then kells kinda freaks out and shows up at the hospital all worried”

Colson Baker X Reader

Warnings: Cursing, car accident (descriptive)

A/N: This was cute 😊

Word Count: 3185

“Alright Kells, I’m out for the night. I’ll email those tracks to the board when I get home and I’ll let you know if I get any updates for tomorrow’s press.” You told the blond man who was sitting on the couch as you put your laptop into your bag. You tried not to yawn as you heaved it over your shoulder, “anything else?”

You glanced at the kitchen clock that read 2 am and let out a small sigh. You were used to late nights given your job as assistant to a rockstar, but most nights you were able to leave before 8 pm. Tonight you and Colson had gotten really invested in the tracks you were editing and lost track of time.

“Y/N,” he turned to look at you with puppy dog eyes. He wanted something that you really weren’t gonna want to give him. “Could you come over early tomorrow to help me pick out what to wear for the Vanity Fair interview?”

You chuckled, “you know they have their own wardrobe department?”

He sighed, “yeah but you know me so much better than all those stylists. I trust your opinion more.”

You rolled your eyes as he tilted his head, begging you. “Fine, but I’m buying us coffee with your credit card.”

He broke out into a smile, “thank you, love you!” He called as you walked towards his front door.

“Whatever, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You told him, taking your car keys into your hands, and stepping out into the LA night. There was a soft breeze that shook the trees slightly, making you smile. It felt nice outside for the first time in a while.

Because of this, you decided to drive home with your windows rolled down, letting the wind flow through your hair. The roads were pretty barren by LA standards, so traffic was pretty much non-existent. You were sitting at a red light, your fingers tapping against your steering wheel as one of Colson’s songs played through your speakers softly.

You reached to turn up the volume as the light turned green. You pressed the gas, your car moving forward into the intersection. Suddenly you heard a loud squeal of brakes, looking over to your passenger window to the sight of two headlights barreling towards you. You tried to speed up to get out of the way, but it was too late.

The truck rammed straight into the side of your small car, pushing your vehicle over into the car next to you. You put your left arm up to shield you from any flying debris, but it was futile. The infrastructure of your car fell apart at the force, the dashboard collapsing onto your right leg. Luckily, your left leg managed to avoid the destruction.

You could barely feel the force of the whiplash due to the pain in your abdomen at the deployment of the airbag. Glass from the car next to you fell into your car through your open window, cutting into your skin.

And then all of a sudden, everything stopped. The truck that had hit you had stopped moving, allowing you to fully assess the damage. Your car was totaled for sure, and your leg was definitely crushed. You cried out in pain, breathing heavy and trying to see straight. You could hear the sound of sirens in the distance, giving you some sense of relief.

When the paramedics got to the scene, you were the last passenger to be taken out of the crash due to your car being in the center. A firefighter had to break the glass of your windshield, which was already cracked, in order to pull you out. When you told him your leg was stuck under the dashboard, he sent a team of men to lift it from your foot and another to pull you out of the wreckage.

They were all amazed you were still conscious but got very worried when you told them you couldn’t feel the pain in your leg. You rode in an ambulance to the hospital, the EMTs helping pick the glass from your skin and assessing your injuries. You made jokes with them to calm yourself down, something that you did with Colson and Rook whenever they got into accidents while you were out with them.

You thought about giving them Colson’s name when they asked about your emergency contact but decided against it. You didn’t want to worry him until absolutely necessary. You figured you’d see what the doctor had to say and if you wouldn’t be able to come back to work, then you would tell him.

Unfortunately, that’s exactly what the doctor said. In fact, you wouldn’t be able to leave the hospital for at least a week due to your shattered leg, bruised abdomen, and concussion.

The leg would require at least 2 if not more surgeries to repair and you would be on close watch for development of a more serious brain injury. After that you most likely wouldn’t be able to be back on your feet for another 8 to 12 weeks, which was kind of a requirement for your job.

It was almost 5am, so you weren’t necessarily thinking straight when you called Colson from your cracked phone. He answered, his voice conveying how tired he was. “Y/N? Everything okay?”

“Hey Kells, I’m not gonna be able to come in early tomorrow, or at all. I’m gonna start looking for a temporary replacement tomorrow if I’m feeling up to it. Oh! And I couldn’t send those tracks to the board, sorry.” You told him, only half registering the words you were saying.

The confusion was evident in his voice, “what? Why do you need to find a replacement?”

You realized you had forgotten to tell him what happened. “Oh, yeah! It’s kind of funny.” You started, chuckling but then realizing that laughing made your stomach hurt even more. “And by funny, I mean not funny at all. I got into a car accident. Some dude ran into my car in an intersection and now I’m in the hospital.”

“Which hospital?” Colson asked, suddenly much more awake.

“Hollywood Presbyterian.” You told him, “why?”

He sounded like he was rushing around, which he was. “I’m coming to see you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, “why? I’m fine, you don’t need to do that. You have a big interview tomorrow, you should sleep.”

Colson sighed, “fuck the interview, I’ll be there in a few.”

“Colson you don’t-“ You started, but he hung up before you could tell him not to come.

Why was he rushing to see you in the hospital? Sure, you were friends, but he had much more important things to worry about right now. And besides, you were more casual work friends. He wouldn’t even know you existed if you didn’t work for him. Sure, you had a huge crush on him, but he was your boss, you were just someone he asked to do things he didn’t want to do.

20 minutes later Colson ran into the hospital room, stopping when he saw you in the bed. Your face was red from chemical burn and a few cuts of glass. Your right leg was propped up with basic bandaging around it. His heart broke at the thought of how much pain you had probably been in.

“How are you feeling?” He asked softly, moving to sit in the chair on your left side.

You shrugged, “I’ve been better.”

“Why didn’t you call me sooner?” He asked, eyes full of pity.

“I didn’t want to bother you unless it was serious. Figured I’d find out if I would have to miss work before telling you.” You said, squeezing your eyes shut as a headache washed over you.

Colson’s mouth gaped open, “you didn’t want to bother me? You got in a car crash and you weren’t gonna call me unless you would have to miss work?”

You shrugged again, “yeah. If my laptop wasn’t completely crushed in the accident I would’ve just found and sent a temp in tomorrow, but obviously that’s impossible.”

“Y/N you’re kidding me, right?” He asked, exasperated. You furrowed your eyebrows in response, causing a sigh to fall from his lips. “Y/N I don’t give a shit about a temp; I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh, I’m fine. A little shaken and these headaches are killer, but they gave me a lot of pain medication so, I’m fine.” You smiled at him, your thoughts racing as you tried to figure out why he cared so much about how you were feeling.

He nodded, hand reaching out and landing on top of yours gently. “So, do they have to do surgery? What all did the doctors say?” He asked, worry in his eyes.

You nodded, “yeah, at least 2 surgeries. One around 11 am and then depending on how that one goes they’ll schedule the next. And they have to watch me to make sure my concussion doesn’t get worse.”

He pulled out his phone, typing away. “What are you doing?” You asked, suddenly feeling very tired.

“I just emailed the PR liaison for Vanity Fair and told them I wouldn’t be able to make it to the interview.” He responded.

“Why did you do that?” You asked through a yawn.

He looked at you like the answer was the most obvious thing in the world, “because I have to be with you right now.”

You were very confused as to why he thought he had to be here. “Colson, I’ll be fine. You should go to the interview. You don’t have to stay here.”

“I do have to be here. I want to be here.” He said, sternly.

“Why?” You asked, trying to keep your eyes open.

“Because I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“I’ll just call you after the surgery, it’s no big deal.” You responded lazily.

He shook his head, “I want to stay here with you, Y/N. Okay? I care about you.”

You were too tired to process what he was saying at this point, so you just let out a hum. “I need to make sure you’re okay. I need to see you being okay. When you called me, I swear I was gonna have a heart attack if I didn’t see you.” He continued.

You were barely awake at this point, letting out a simple, “I’m okay” before slipping into unconsciousness.

Suddenly you were back in your car, “Bloody Valentine” playing from your speakers. The sky was dark green, almost like a painting. In front of you, the red light turned green. Like clockwork, you pressed the gas, moving into the intersection. Suddenly, the lights disappeared, and you heard the familiar chilling sound of breaks squealing. You looked over and saw those headlights coming towards you, getting closer and closer, brighter, and brighter.

You screamed at the sight, the familiar paralyzing fear coursing through your body again. “Y/N!” Your name played through the radio. That’s not in the song, you thought. “Y/N!” Colson’s voice rang out again before the truck made contact with your car.

You woke up in a cold sweat to Colson standing over you, hands shaking your shoulders lightly. “Y/N.” He said, relieved when your eyes began to open.

Your entire body was shaking like a poodle and your arms subconsciously reached for Colson, hanging onto his shirt for dear life. “It was just a dream.” He whispered as your eyes darted around the room. “You’re okay.” He reassured you.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered, hands leaving the fabric and moving to cover up your face. “I’m sorry.”

Colson sat on the bed next to you, legs hanging off the side as he stroked your face gently. “It’s okay, baby.” He turned to the nurse who opened the door, a worried expression on her face. He shook his head at her, “sorry, she just had a nightmare. She’s okay.” The nurse nodded but stayed in the room anyways, checking your vitals.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled again, the words seeming to be the only thing you could say.

Colson shook his head, “stop saying that, it’s okay.” You pouted at him, trying to scoot over so he would lay down next to you, but it was way too painful. “What are you doin?” He asked, a smile on his face.

You sighed, “wanted you to sit next to me but I can’t move because of this stupid leg.” You motioned to the leg in question.

Colson chuckled, “I can sit next to you in the chair.”

“That didn’t work last time.” You whined.

He looked at you with an expression that was both amused and confused. You were definitely still high on pain medication. “What didn’t work.”

“It didn’t stop the nightmare.” You frowned, hand reaching for his. He chuckled, standing up fully and looking at the nurse.

She flashed him an amused smile, “If you want, we can try to move her. I don’t know how much we can do without hurting her ribs, though.”

Colson nodded with a gracious smile, “hear that? We can’t move you because of your ribs.”

You glared at him, “I may be very high right now, but I’m not that high.” You said, making him giggle. “She said you could try.”

Colson let out an exasperated sigh, one arm going under your back and the other under your left leg. “Is this what it’s like taking care of me all the time?” He asked and you nodded your head firmly.

“Yep. Except I am much smaller than you, so you have less work to do with me.” You smiled as he lifted you off the bed, which quickly turned into a grimace. “Ow!” You yelped and Colson quickly set you down, slightly closer to the right side of the bed.

“Fuck, sorry princess. Are you okay?” He asked, voice soft.

You nodded, sucking in your bottom lip to block the whimpers of pain that threatened to escape your mouth. “You probably don’t remember, but one time you were so crossed that you called me to pick you up from a party. But you couldn’t make it out of the car, so I had to carry you into your house. And then you demanded to sleep in your own room, so you made me drag you up the stairs instead of passing out on the couch like normal.”

Colson let out a breathy chuckle, glad you weren’t hurt too much. He carefully sat onto the cot next to you, pulling up his right leg to sit on the bed. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into him slightly. You shifted so that you were comfortable, left hand finding his own left hand and holding it. He brought his left leg up onto the bed so he was fully laying with you.

Your head rest on his chest, a soft smile on your face as his thumb rubbed circles on your hand. The nurse left, satisfied that you wouldn’t hurt yourself further. Colson pressed a small kiss to the top of your head, causing your eyebrows to furrow.

“What time is it?” You asked him, to which he responded by pulling out his phone and showing you the lock screen. 8:47am. You nodded, a frown on your face, “did you get any sleep?” You asked him softly.

“I’m fine, I was asleep for a few hours before you called me.”

You sighed, feeling guilty. “You should go home and get some sleep.”

You felt him shake his head from behind you, “I’m staying right here.”

Despite wanting to force him to go home, you couldn’t help the happiness you felt at his stubbornness to stay with you. “You know you don’t need to be here. I won’t be offended if you leave.”

He chuckled, “stop trying to get me to leave. I’m here. On my own accord, okay? I’m gonna take care of you.”

You paused, thinking about the word floating around your head. “Why?” you whispered.

Colson’s face scrunched in confusion, “what do you mean “why”? Because you’re my friend and I care about you.”

“I mean, yeah. But I’m not like a “drop everything” kind of friend, I’m just your assistant.” You muttered.

Colson made an “are-you-serious?” face and let out a snort. “Seriously? You are so much more than you give yourself credit for. You mean the world to me, of course I’d drop everything for you.”

You couldn’t think of a response, his words making your heart race. “oh.” Was the best you could come up with.

“Y/N, seriously, you think way too low of yourself. You’re amazing.” He said, nose burying into your hair.

You shrugged, “you only say that because I take care of you when you’re drunk and help you do all the things you don’t want to do.”

Colson’s expression softened, a frown forming on his face. “I’m saying that because I think the world of you. You’re the kindest, funniest, coolest person I know. I meant it, when you told me you were in the hospital, my heart almost stopped. I felt sick to my stomach just thinking about you being hurt.” He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I wish you could see how much you mean to me.” He mumbled.

You were quiet for a little while, processing what he had said. “You’re only saying that because I’m in the hospital.” You muttered, a frown on your face. You were trying to keep your hopes low, knowing once you were out of here, he would regret saying any of this.

“Y/N, are you being serious right now? I’m saying this because I’ve been fucking in love with you for the past year and a half.” He said and you could feel your breath catch in your throat. “I can’t believe you don’t see it.”

You bit your lip, turning to look up to him. “I just- I didn’t want- you wouldn’t.” You stumbled over your words, taking a deep breath, and starting again. “I didn’t want to read too much into it or get my hopes up. I figured you’d never be into someone like me so I just told myself you were being nice. I thought you only treated me well because I worked for you.” You mumbled.

He frowned, holding you tighter to him, “I am so, so into you. You are the only woman in my life who has ever stuck by me through my worst shit. Like even when I was a total jackass you stayed with me. How could I not fall in love with you?”

You bit your lip, tears threatening to spill at his sweet sentiment. You’d never had anyone say something that kind about you. You’d always assumed people only kept you around because you did stuff for them, but here was the man you were in love with telling you that he cared about you for you.

“I love you too.” You whispered, leaning your head further into his chest.

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk angst #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #colson baker imagine #machine gun kelly imagine #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker fluff #colson baker angst #colson imagine

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deniigi · 3 years

Text

hi I have something for y’all called a disaster.

I wrote an Inimitable!Spiderman/Modern Star Wars AU because no one can stop me, not even myself. it is like 47 pages long. I am handing it tenderly to y’all.

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Title: impossible scenario

Summary: Peter runs into some drunk assholes arguing, calling each other Han and Luke. He lets it roll off him until he can’t anymore and eventually finds himself for the first time on the other side of someone more chaotic than himself.

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There was an argument happening under a fire escape. Peter knew about it because a concerned dude wearing a fuckin’ Yankees cap had flagged him down with waving arms and told him that someone needed saving, Spiderman. Some tall asshole was kidnapping a young blond dude, the guy and his too-cool-for-him girlfriend explained. They’d heard the two scuffling.

Peter maybe stared for a beat too long at them because the gal pointed two blocks behind him and said, “That way. I think the blond guy might be drugged. He’s slurrin’ something strong.”

Peter liked her shoes. They looked like Miles’s, but blue.

“Spidey?”

Miles told Peter all the time that he wasn’t cool enough to wear Jordans. MJ and Johnny had agreed. Such sad times.

“Spidey.”

“I got it,” Peter sighed.

The gal tsked.

“Man, you’re too young to be this jaded,” she said.

Peter sighed.

“You’re the third person to say that this week,” he said. “You think I should go back to therapy?”

There was a pause.

“You know that answer, dude,” cool-gal said. “Go save the twink.”

Twink. Got it. Thank you, citizen.

“There are websites for that shit, Spidey.”

Bye now.

“Apps, even.”

Bye, bye.

“BetterHelp or Headspace or somethin’—”

“Two blocks, you said?” Peter asked.

Two blocks away, there was indeed a man with dark hair trying to lift a violently intoxicated twink up onto the first steps of a fire escape. Peter examined his options. There were many ways to ruin a potential kidnapper’s day. His favorite involved coke and mentos, although he’d received feedback that that was a waste of perfectly good food. Down the list was also the option to walk over and scream bloody murder so that the kidnapper shat themselves and dropped their target.

That was good, but Peter was tired and the thought of mustering up the energy to scream at a noticeable volume made his thighs turn to Jell-o.

That left snark and violence.

Today, he would not choose violence. Only for today.

He strode out of his dark temporary residence between two dumpsters directly towards the tall dude and his mark. The mark was a messy one. Bless his heart, he was unwittingly making himself the most noncompliant victim to have ever victim-ed. Every time the tall guy got him almost vertical, he gave up his corporeal form to become drunk slime and ooze back to the ground with various moaning sound effects.

It would have been funny if not for the kidnapping context.

The fact that Peter had been standing there under the beams of two separate side-building security lights and neither of those two had noticed yet was also objectively funny—or would have been, if Peter had the capacity for processing humor at the moment.

Alas. This was what he got for telling Tony that he’d evolved beyond the need for sleep. He got caffeine-pilled. And there would be no true rest until that shit wore off, exhausted as Peter’s body yearned to be.

“Kid, work with me here,” the tall guy said.

“I can’t, I’ll die,” the shorter one moaned.

“Luke.”

“I’ve done my time—thirty years in AZKA—”

“Keep your voice down, oh my god.”

Peter was just standing here, fellas.

“Luke.”

“Why’s it always me? Why’s it always gotta be me? The hell did I do to piss off the whole galax-galaxy? HA. My bad, my bad. The whole universe?”

God, what a mood.

The tall guy dropped his grip on the smaller one and loomed over his puddle of ooze with poison in his gaze.

“People are going to die, Luke,” he said.

“So what? They’re always dyin’. Everywhere I go, people’re dyin’ and when it’s not them dyin’, you know who is?”

“Kid.”

“ME.”

“So you’re just gonna wallow there, feelin’ sorry for yourself?” the tall dude snapped.

“Sure am,” the puddle of ooze hummed.

This was not a kidnapping. This was a come-to-Jesus in the back alley of a bar. Peter was not needed here. He turned around on his heel and stopped when he heard a sharp intake of breath.

“Is that?” someone whispered.

“Don’t mind me, pal, just your friendly neighborhood—” he started.

“Look what you did,” Tall and Handsome hissed at Ooze-Man. “Someone went and called Spiderman on us.”

Peter lifted a brow as Ooze-man ripped its chest up from the asphalt and composed itself back into a human shape with fluffy blonde hair and huge wide eyes.

“Omigod, it’s Spiderman,” the guy said. “Wait, no. Gimme a hand. No, not that one, fuck off, nevermind, I don’t need you.”

He drew himself up to standing, only leaning slightly on his buddy there and gave Peter as lopsided smile.

“Hi, there,” he said with a twang that Peter couldn’t place. “Were you lookin’ for someone, handsome?”

Ah, they had reached the time of night when all the drunks needed to tell Peter things he already knew about his ass. He loved this time.

Not to mention that this dude looked eerily like Johnny. Scarily like Johnny. So much like Johnny that Peter almost wanted to take a picture of him to send to Sue so that she could print up some lost and found posters.

“Just lookin’ at you, babe,” he said. “This guy botherin’ you?”

The tall guy blanched and then grabbed at his face in horror. Peter swallowed his laugh.

“He sure is, hon. You got time to rescue me?” Blondie crooned.

“Luke, please. Please.”

“Because I’m in real distress,” ‘Luke’ said with a pout mighty enough to fell Thor.

“You sure seem like it,” Peter said. “C’mere. I’ll walk you home. Leave that tool, he ain’t worth your breath.”

He held out an elbow like proper gentleman and was pleased at the hand that Luke laid over his heart in response.

Peter could imagine Johnny’s face in six different expression of jealous horror at a selfie taken with this look-alike. Each was beautiful in its own special way. As payment for being referred to counseling by the public, he at least deserved to receive at least two of those faces.

“You mean that?” Luke asked him.

“He doesn’t,” his tall companion said.

“I sure do, where do you live? I’ll walk you,” Peter said.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cry, he’s gonna escort me,” Luke said, all choked up and fanning his eyes lightly.

This tall friend grabbed him before he could escape, though, and pulled him back behind his own body.

“Listen, Spidey, this is a misunderstanding,” he drawled. “I know this idiot—he is technically my idiot— and I’m the one escorting his ass home. Thanks, though. You’re a real menace. Beat it.”

MMMMMMM.

And here Peter had been planning on being jaded and miserable this fine night. How could he now when this dude was ticking every box that made him feel alive?

“What’s your name, dollface?” Peter asked across the short distance.

“None of your business,” Tall Guy answered abruptly.

“Luke,” Luke said around him. “Are you gonna save me?”

“In just a minute,” Peter said, striding forward with a hard roll in his shoulder and deep drop in his knees.

It was amazing how Tall Guy wanted to take some steps back all of the sudden. Peter couldn’t help but let a smirk widen his face as he advanced.

“Okay, hang on now,” Tall Guy said with both palms out in front of him. “You don’t know what this is about, Spidey. You don’t want to get involved with this, trust me. He’s just bein’ dramatic. No need to get testy.”

“You sure do a lot of talkin’ for your friend there,” Peter noted through his grin.

“Yeah, Han,” Luke said.

Ha.

Han. Han and Luke. Ned was gonna be enraptured when Peter told him about this later.

“Luke. Back me up.”

“Why should I?”

“Because,” ‘Han’ finally snapped. “I’m not doin’ this because I want you to suffer, alright? I don’t want nothin’ to do with it either, okay? No one does. But it’s this or—”

“Or everyone else,” Luke finished for him in a strangely toneless voice.

Han sighed.

“It’s always everyone else,” Luke said.

“Not here.”

“Why’s it always everyone el—No, no, here. Why not? We’ve got fucking Spiderman in our midst, how much more surreal can this moment get? No. You listen to me, Han—”

“I’ve been listening to you all damn evening and you know what I’m hearing?”

“—I lost my life for this. I lost my home, my aunt, my uncle, my hand—”

“I’m hearing you making this about you.”

“—everything I ever knew, and I tried to make it right, didn’t I? I made the school. I gathered the kids—”

“And it’s not just about you this time, kid. It’s not about you, it’s not about me, or Leia, or Chewie or—”

“—I lost my kid and the love of my life, and I finally get a second chance at finding them and giving them the goddamn happy ending they deserve, and the next thing I know—”

“Luke, you’re the only one,” Han said.

“I WAS NEVER. THE ONLY. ONE, HAN,” Luke roared out of absolutely nowhere, sober as a saint. “I was never the only one. EVER. Ahsoka. Go find her. She’s everything that I’m not and more. She’s the real—”

“Luke.”

“Stop saying that name. I HATE that name. I would do anything for twenty goddamn seconds where I didn’t have to be him.”

“You don’t mean that,” Han said quietly. His shoulders had rounded out and become black and heavy under the weight of their shadow. Luke’s eyes, however, looked like topaz.

“I mean it,” Luke said.

Oho.

So shit had gotten real tense, real fast, so Peter about to make a decision that was gonna make Shelley so proud of him she would weep when he finally slunk back in through her office door.

He was leaving. He was turning around and taking a wee jog. Maybe turning a corner, having a little jump over a fence, up a wall, to a place as far away from this one as superhumanly possible.

Bye, bye.

“This galaxy needs you, Luke.”

Peter stopped five paces away.

“They need you,” Han repeated. “And I need you.”

Peter slowly looked back to see that Luke’s face had twisted sharply out of the light, towards the alley wall.

“I’m sorry that we met again like this,” Han said quietly. “I’m sorry it’s always you. You don’t deserve this. No one deserves this.”

“Shut up,” Luke said.

“But if you don’t do something, then it won’t be just me and you and all these random others sliding back into that cesspit we all barely crawled out of.”

“Stop.”

“You’ll never find him if things go back the way they were.”

“You—you don’t know that. There—maybe—”

“Luke. Listen to me. Please.”

“Maybe there’s a chance—”

“Luke,” Han said reaching out and putting a hand on Luke’s shoulder and clenching it hard enough that Peter should see the bunched fabric, “Do you want Din to live through this shitshow a second time? Hasn’t he suffered enough?”

Peter shivered. The pressure at the base of his neck was building. The Spidey Sense wanted to hiss in his ears like white noise. It pinned him where he was, staring over his shoulder at those two solid shapes, one digging a hand into the flesh of the other.

His stomach turned.

Luke said something that Peter couldn’t hear. Han pulled him toward his own body by the grip he had on his shoulder. At first, Luke seemed to stagger, like he was walking on black ice. He stopped a single step away from Han’s body, still with his face angled severely away. Han said something to him.

There was a long pause, then Luke seemed to fall forward. Han caught him and crushed his head into his shoulder, lowering his own until it was almost touching Luke’s ear. They clung to each other.

Luke was crying.

The Spidey Sense started to crackle and pop in Peter’s ears.

“I gotchu, kid,” Han said in a rasp. “I gotchu. We’re gonna get through it.”

Peter blinked once and finally unlocked the muscles in his neck. He wasn’t meant to witness this. He held out a wrist and fired a line.

It was weird.

It was just weird.

Something wasn’t right. And Peter couldn’t make his stomach not writhe about it.

Luke.

Han.

An offhand mention of like, characters. Character names. They were character names. Leia, Chewie.

Peter had heard of people who lived their lives honestly believing that they had been other people—fake people—in past lives, but like, damn man. Why would you put yourself in a position like that were you were moved to actual tears for some elaborate street-drama?

Maybe it had been a joke? That was the only thing he could think it could be. Maybe the universe had gazed upon his hubris at work and gone ‘ah yes, I know what this young man needs: emotional confusion at midnight on a Thursday. That’ll fix him.’

If that was the case, then yeah. Good job, universe. Good job, larpers. Y’all are equally sick.

But if not—and Peter no longer lived in a world where he could rule out any possibilities—then he had just witnessed—Dude, he’d just witnessed—

He couldn’t even think it. It was beyond him. It was so far beyond him that like he might have a real stroke taking the thought seriously.

There was only one person who could hold that kind of information unscathed.

Only one.

PP: Ned. I need you to listen to me and tell me I’m not crazy.

NL: no promises but go on

PP: I think? I just saw? Luke Skywalker? And Han Solo? In an alley behind Kitty’s?????

NL: fascinating

JS: Say more

PP: who let you in here?

JS: you?

PP: SECURITY

NL: Peter say more

PP: I can’t there’s a nerd in here and it’s vibrating at the wrong decibel. SECURITY???

MJ: yeah?

PP: I’m trying to have a breakdown. Can you remove Matchstick please?

MJ: what kind of breakdown

JS: he thinks he met Luke Skywalker

PP: Security has failed me. God?

NL: Peter can you name three things you can see.

PP: I am not manic. I am in touch with reality. I’m just having anxiety because I just fucking saw two people calling each other Luke and Han fighting behind Kitty’s. Like real fighting.

JS: nicknames?

PP: I—

PP: oh my god nicknames

PP: Johnny I’m so sorry I ever doubted you. never leave my side

JS: 😊

MJ: wow that’s cringe. Imagine naming yourself after SW characters

NL: does kitty do a cosplay night now????

PP: idk it was wild. People thought that ‘Han’ was trying to kidnap ‘Luke’ but when I got over there, Luke started flirting with me and then shit got real and they started arguing over like him hating his name and not wanting to do something and losing everything or some shit

NL: that’s a lot. I’m sure it was nothing, though, peter.

PP: yeah it was. My SS has been going nuts ever since I left. You think they bugged me?

JS: yes I will come search your body imminently

MJ: my job storm, back off

JS: after MJ has finished prelim checks, I will then search your body for you out of the kindness of my heart ❤

NL: that’s weird, the SS doesn’t usually freak out about cosplayers

PP: ikr?

NL: lol imagine if they were serious

MJ: don’t say that

JS: well now we have to lean in. thanks ned

JS: they were definitely real. God they were so real. You hear that Fate? You got us. They’re definitely real.

PP: BUT WHAT IF THEY WERE?

MJ: cue breakdown

NL: that would be so fucking funny. Luke Skywalker and Han Solo trying to save the world from the hellscape of nyc. The rats alone would thwart them.

PP: ned I’m freaking out

NL: oh you mean you’re actually freaking out?

PP: deeply

NL: oh shit sorry. I’ll be over, have you slept yet?

PP: NO

MJ: on it

JS: can I join?

NL: no johnny

MJ: no johnny

PP: 😭

JS: one day our love will build a bridge, peter. In the meantime I am stroking your ear comfortingly from midtown

Need and MJ’s weight pinning him to a mattress brought sleep but not necessarily comfort. They both thought that this was a sick joke someone had played on him that was now destroying his psyche. They thought that the couple pointing him back towards the cosplayers had been in on the joke.

Peter would have agreed with them if it wasn’t for the Spidey Sense. Everything else lined up perfectly.

Ned sighed in the morning and told Peter to go talk to Wade.

Wade’s hallucinations were, by far, more auditory than visual, but he stayed quiet while Peter talked his ear off over the phone in his locked office. He waited until Peter had run out of words to describe the feeling of impending doom and then huffed a bit of a laugh into the receiver.

“Them Star Wars people are unreal, Pete, you know this,” he said. “Look at Ned.”

Ned was perfect.

“Take off those rosy shades, hon. Now, look again.”

Ned had perhaps memorized the entire scripts of the first three movie and 90% of the spaceship names and the jedi lineages.

“Uh-huh. Keep going.”

Peter didn’t want to.

“We all gotta do shit we don’t want do.”

Fine.

Ned’s goal in life was to go to his wedding in a stormtrooper suit.

“Keep going.”

Every Lego project they’d built together since 13 years-old had been a Star Wars-related one. When Ned had decided to move out of his parents’ place, he’d shed actual tears over MJ and Peter mutually suggesting that he sell some of his memorabilia.

“Will this delightful buffet before our very eyes, what is the likelihood of your two pals being drunk larpers in too deep to quit?” Wade asked.

73%.

“Uh-huh.”

“Thanks, Wade.”

“No problem. Although, now I gotta see this. You said they were behind Kitty’s? You think I can get a stormtrooper costume in 8 hours?”

“They’re not still gonna be there, Wade,” Peter huffed. “It’s 10 am.”

“You ain’t know that. What if Luke Skywalker’s a useless drunk, huh? You ever think of that?”

No.

“What’d he look like?”

Peter groaned.

“He looked like Luke Skywalker,” he said. “Blond hair, blue eyes—sort of like a chipmunk that forgot its stripes.”

“I’m onto you, Skywalker.”

Peter hung up to Wade’s cackle. He slouched low and tapped his pen against his desk. Then against his fingers.

He stared at the edge of his keyboard.

“What’s the weirdest thing you could imagine, Pete?” he asked himself.

PP: sam

SC: yeah?

PP: do you like star wars?

SC: nah

PP: you’re perfect

PP: do you believe in past lives?

SC: like spiritually or culturally? I know I was a cult-kid for a min there but before that we were Buddhists and like, past lives are part of the package

PP: that’s cool. What do you think of people being reborn as themselves again like, 500000000 years later? From a galaxy far far away?

SC: I don’t think about those people

PP: okay well, hypothetically. Let’s say that you were going to imagine someone who embodied that whole spirit. Who would it be?

SC: Buddha

PP: not buddha

SC: is this a riddle? Is it Jesus?

PP: THOR. Thank you this has been helpful ily bye

Mr. Stark asked him over a cup of viciously black coffee why Peter was seeking out the demigod of his present nightmares.

That usually meant that he and Thor had disagreed on basic physics principles again. Peter took that also to mean that the demigod was still in the building. Possibly loose.

“He’s with Banner,” Mr. Stark said scathingly.

“Thanks, you’re amazing,” Peter said as he sailed out of the room.

Thor was sitting on Dr. Banner’s lab table, despite Dr. Banner telling him to get off no fewer than two times in the five minutes that Peter was in there, schmoozing and making pleasantries. He warmed Thor up to the home-run hit by asking him all about past lives and present lives and what the soul was on Asgard. Thor was only too happy to explain a load of nonsense that made Banner roll his eyes and poke at his muscles with a thermometer.

“So, hypothetically speaking,” Peter drawled in a very casual lean, “With the infinite galaxies and universes, etcetera, there could be one where Star Wars people exist. And so hypothetically, they could get reborn into a universe like ours.”

Thor blinked at him.

“You remember the laser swords?” Dr. Banner deadpanned.

Thor lit up.

“I suppose it’s possible,” he told Peter indulgently. “But if that was the case then it would be a long tragedy, no?”

…yes…

Say more, Thor-man.

“Well,” Thor said with a big, happy smile, “The series of events that unfolded in that story seemed to me to be one of triumph and tragedy. With one would come the other—that’s how these stories work, yes?”

…yes.

“So if Master Luke Skywalker and his companions arrived into our space here, then they must experience the same in order to be themselves,” Thor said, bobbing his head in pity. “Perhaps what would look like a new start for such people would result only in terror and disappointment until the same conclusion was reached.”

Peter felt his own grin twitch.

“So it’s not impossible?” he asked.

Both Thor and Banner looked at him quizzically at the same time.

“Peter?” Dr. Banner asked. “Is this coming from somewhere?”

Peter’s grin twitched so violently, it turned into a grimace that even superstrength would not let him maintain.

“Can I borrow one of you?” he asked.

Wade was not happy to be met outside of Kitty’s in the middle of the day, especially because his stormtrooper outfit, in his words, ‘did no justice for the size of his balls.’

Peter was ignoring that. He dragged Thor past Wade’s righteous anger until he was standing on the place where the other two had stood the night before. Thor stood there gamely.

“There,” Peter said. “Any like, energy signatures?”

Thor glanced around and shrugged.

Wade scowled at him and hounded him off the spot so that he could stand there instead.

“I feel nothing,” he said, devoid of emotion.

“Same,” Thor said.

Damnit.

“Perhaps you are—”

The Spidey Sense smashed through all of Peter’s sense and screamed at him to get to the street.

Get to the street. Get to the street. Get to the—

There.

Across the way. Chipmunk, no stripes.

That was the guy from the day before. He was on the opposite sidewalk smashed in with the crowd, dragging a hand through his hair and laden with a backpack and two separate totes. He was wearing a strange set of clothes—a mash of casual and formal—and seemed to be in a hurry, the type of hurry that involved pushing past folks at a half-jog and not stopping at streetlights.

“Got ‘im,” Peter hissed.

“No shit?” Wade asked over his shoulder.

Thor made a sound of interest.

“I see him, too,” he said. “What incredible energy, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Wh—

Peter whirled on him.

“Don’t you fucking say that,” he warned. “I’m gonna go distract. You two, on my six.”

Peter broke four traffic laws on his way around the block. He swung himself around a corner and fucked up the collar on his labcoat and counted to four before stepping out right into ‘Luke’s path.

They collided. Luke stumbled back and dropped one of his totes.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Peter blustered. “Are you okay?”

Luke swore and dropped down without answering, collecting the odd ends of metal that had clattered out from his bag and now rolled loose over the pavement. Peter stooped to join, gathering rings and pipes of all sorts of sizes in his hands. Oncoming folks gave them a wide berth.

It took a moment for Luke to realize what Peter was doing, but when he did, his shoulders went stiff as a board.

“DON’T TOUCH THOSE,” he snapped, just as Peter made to pick up a little plastic bag with a wad of tissue inside it.

Peter froze.

“Oh. Sorry,” he said.

This time, Luke finally met his eye.

“Oh, Jesus. No. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Luke blustered, “Thank you. I’ll—I’ve got them. Thank you, though. It’s okay.”

He took the metal out of Peter’s hands and stuffed them back into his bag. He snatched the plastic bag before Peter could touch it and put that on top.

“Excuse me,” he said as he stood. “Thanks again.”

And just like that, he hurried off past Peter down the pavement.

Peter watched him go.

“Catch?” Wade asked softly from the corner.

“Negative,” Peter said, reaching into his sleeve and holding up the thin aluminum tube he’d hidden up there by the edge of his shirt-sleeve.

It was shiny and longer than he’d expect for any plumbing project. The inside appeared to be coated with some sort of heavy, non-reactive material, and half of the outside had grooved bands carved into it.

“Someone’s building something,” he said.

“Mid-century sink?” Wade asked, taking the tube.

“Nope,” Peter said.

NL: That is a lightsaber hilt

NL: where did you get that? It’s like mega accurate. Was it etsy?

PP: I stole it

NL: give it back

PP: I can’t I stole it from Luke Skywalker.

NL: Peter.

NL: we talked about this.

PP: He’s Luke Skywalker. I swear on the grave of my mother

MJ: this is a problem. This is now an intervention.

PP: I will prove it. If he’s Luke Skywalker, then he will do ANYTHING to get this thing back.

NL: and if not?

PP: then I will wait two days before politely tracking down his home address and then I will return it via wall crawling

JS: UM

JS: SORRY

JS: PETER CAN YOU CALL ME?

PP: no

NL: no

MJ: no

JS: are

JS: are you sure??? Because there’s a guy in Reed’s lab right now talking to him and Sue, asking SUPER politely for access to—I shit you not—the crystals we picked up from that space trip the other day???

NL: …

PP: …

MJ: …

PP: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

MJ: fake

NL: no way

PP: WHAT’S HIS NAME, JOHNNY BOY????

JS: I can’t

PP: nope you gotta

JS: I can’t I’m gonna cry I didn’t ask for this

MJ: out with it

NL: please say it’s obi-wan

JS: HHHHHHHHHHH

JS: nope

JS: just a guy named Ben 🙃

PP: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

PP: I told you motherfuckers

JS: right. So like. Awkward. But you uh, know that hilt thing you have?

PP: …is Obi-Wan Kenobi about to beat my ass, Johnny?

There was something about putting the hilt into the palm of someone more famous than Captain America that made Peter’s knees weak.

It did not help that Luke Skywalker had flirted with him the other night.

It did not help that Luke Skywalker didn’t recognize him as Spiderman.

Nothing helped, really, especially when those big topaz eyes lifted and Peter could see that their rims were red and raw.

“Thanks,” Luke Skywalker—the embodiment of hope itself—said in a soft, defeated rasp.

Every alarm in Peter’s head said to save him. Save him from what? How? Who knew.

Ned and MJ seemed to feel the same way, if the pressure on each of his arms was anything to go by.

“Well, that’s all cleared up, then. Thank you so much for your help; it is deeply appreciated,” a stupidly pleasant gentleman with a perfectly combed beard and lovingly coifed light hair said to the room at large.

Obi-Wan Kenobi—pardon, Ben Kennedi—was far more handsome than any movie could ever dream to make him. What they’d done to him in the 1970s, Peter saw now, was a fucking crime. He watched as this beautiful human being set a warm hand on Luke Skywalker’s—pardon, Luke Naberry’s—shoulder and used it to steer him towards the Baxter Building’s front entrance.

He watched as the two of them, like true Master and Padawan, stepped out onto the landing and opted for the stairs. For one fleeting, unbelievable second, Luke looked back over his shoulder at all of them before taking the next step after his Master.

He was right the other night.

He wasn’t the only jedi. Not anymore.

“So that just happened,” Sue acknowledged for everyone after the door had clicked closed and the sound of footsteps had faded off to nothing.

“I’m going to cry,” Reed announced.

“This is single-handedly the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Ned said.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi walked into our kitchen,” Reed told Sue like she hadn’t been there right next to him.

“The empire is trying to establish itself under our very feet,” Sue said back a little viciously.

“The real empire,” Reed whimpered.

Wait.

No, go back.

“For real?” Peter asked.

Sue and Reed looked back at the rest of them and then exchanged a look.

Peter was sad now. Depressed and laid out on his side staring back at Valeria’s huge eyes on the floor while Ned and MJ and Johnny asked Reed and Sue two hundred clarifying questions.

Peter didn’t need the specifics. He was thinking back on the conversation that he’d witnessed between Luke and Han Solo—Han Solo who was tall with dark hair and dark eyes and an accent straight out of New Jersey. Solo who had probably been charged with forcing Luke to face the facts in front of all of them because he was the one who Luke trusted most.

But it had shattered them—both of them.

The New Hope had given up everything. He was tired. His heart was torn. He was jaded just like Peter had been that same night. He’d been avoiding the tightrope that Peter had already started crossing, though, probably looking for every possible way to not have to set the first foot on that wobbly line.

He’d walked it before.

Valeria reached out with a chubby, round hand and touched the side of Peter’s face.

“Spiderman,” she said with terrifying understanding, “Someone needs help.”

He wriggled in close enough to bonk heads with her.

“Baby Storm,” he whispered, “I think you’re right.”

MJ thought that Peter needed to leave things alone. She pointed out that he had plenty of problems without getting involved in universe-saving. She gestured to Johnny and volunteered him for the job.

Johnny refused on account of needing to be the prettiest blond in any room. He claimed that if he wasn’t, he had to fight for dominance.

Ned was on the other end of the spectrum. He had 43 reasons why Peter should get involved with things, and 40 of them ended up in the same place which was ‘it would be cool.’

One of Ned’s better reasons, however, involved pointing out that Peter had already stolen half of a lightsaber. He was good and involved now, whether he wanted to be or not. And that was enough for Peter to decide to go on a hunt to give a formal apology.

He recruited Ned to help him locate Luke Skywalker.

That didn’t work.

They tried Luke Naberry.

That didn’t work either.

They ended up going through every possible iteration of every Star Wars name they knew and then filtered out the people who’d been named by exuberant parents and then filtered out anyone who didn’t live in New York and they ended up with fat lot of still nothing.

It was like Luke Skywalker didn’t truly exist in this world.

Until MJ found his Instagram by typing in ‘guys who look weirdly like Luke Skywalker.’

She held the phone aloft in triumph and they all gathered round to gape in awe at her intelligence and research skills.

Luke’s Instagram was nothing but pictures of coffee.

He had one selfie and this selfie was enough to have gotten him onto a BuzzFeed article. In it he was holding—you guessed it—coffee. Iced coffee. One in each hand.

He was shaking them, and one had been labeled with his name—hence the public connection made.

“Someone needs to tell him that coffee is not a food group,” Johnny observed.

“Maybe he works nights,” MJ said.

Ned lifted an eyebrow.

“Maybe this is his job,” he said.

There was a pause.

Some snooping revealed that Luke was an honest to god food website editor. He was a cameraman.

Repeat. Luke Skywalker, cameraman. He filmed all the food hosts for his company’s Youtube channel. He edited videos. He more or less blended into the background of everything, while having his finger prints on damn near everything.

This was a man after Peter’s own soul. They were kindred spirits in hidden identities, content creation, and suffering under a boulder of responsibility too great to cope with.

He had to find him now.

And after they had his Instagram it wasn’t too hard. He seemed to hang out in various parts of the Bronx and Peter just so happened to know some folks out that way.

Louis told Peter that he would never speak to him again if he found, befriended, and then didn’t share Luke Skywalker (the man, the real man, I’m not fucking with you, Louis). But he also recognized a place on Luke’s instagram that he seemed to be working his way through the menu of. He sent along an address and told Peter not to forget his promises.

Angel asked why he was looking for Johnny Storm in the Bronx.

Peter left Louis to rattle sense into her.

He took a walk on Saturday morning. A long walk. A long train ride, then a walk, then a half hour of squinting, and then, lo and behold, he found a blond guy banging his head into the center of an out door metal table across from a woman with heavy braids trailing down the sides of her neck. She was much older than him and drummed white-painted fingernails across her cheek as she thought.

Peter hid and called Ned and MJ for an ID. He peeked the phone’s camera out enough for them to see the other two and then snatched it back.

Ned was about to flip a table.

“That’s clearly Ahsoka Tano,” he said. “She—the braids, dude. Dead give-away. And she put ribbons in them, like what even is discretion?”

Peter didn’t know that person. He continued not to know this person, even as Ned dragged him through a trainwreck of Star Wars lore.

“So she’s a friend,” he said.

“She’s like a jedi, but not like a jedi, she was a jedi, but then she said ‘fuck the order’ and—”

Great. Peter was approaching.

Ned held his face in his hands. MJ told Peter to report back on his findings. Peter ended the call and inched closer, weaving through the crowd and slipping into the coffee joint to see what nonsense they were selling.

It was nonsense with lots of syrup. He could never say no to syrup.

He watched the two outside while waiting for his order. Luke gesticulated to his friend and she spoke, giving reasonable gestures back. He stopped her and dug out his phone and that little plastic baggy full of fluffy material. He answered his phone. His friend took the little bag and held it up to the light.

She frowned at it.

Luke pushed away from the table and walked away to take his call. Peter’s order was called. He grabbed it and swerved out towards the patio.

“Hello,” he said at the edge of Luke and his friend’s table. “Is this seat taken?”

Luke’s friend stared at him.

“It is,” she said. “Move along, hon, you’re ten years too young.”

Wow.

“For your friend?” Peter tried. “Could I leave my number?”

He had this lady’s attention now. She was looking him up and down, appraising. Peter tried not to flex. He stayed cool. Matt-levels of cool. He smiled winningly.

“Alright, why not?” she said, digging through her bag for a receipt and a pen. Peter beamed as he leaned down to scrawl his number down on the back. He got halfway through before he heard a step stop nearby.

“Look alive, kid,” Luke’s friend said. “Hey, Luke, this guy was just—”

“You again?” Luke said.

Peter lifted his head and brows.

“Hi,” he said. “I just wanted to apologize.”

There was a long silence.

Luke’s friend looked between them and then gave Luke a long, judgmental stare.

“You don’t have to,” Luke said. “Thanks, though. How did you find me here?”

Mmm. Beginner’s luck.

“Here,” Peter said, offering his number on the receipt. “If you ever need someone to talk to who gets it.”

Luke’s friend bit her lip and looked away in secondhand embarrassment. Peter ignored her for now.

“Thanks,” Luke said. “You don’t and you won’t. But you’re very pretty.”

Nice.

“You’d be surprised,” Peter told him. “Gimme a text. I’ll leave y’all alone now. Enjoy your coffee.”

He left. But not before hearing, “but that ass, Luke.”

Ned told him that there was no way that Luke was ever going to text him and he was disappointed in Peter’s hostage-taking skills.

But he was proved wrong two hours later and, for his crimes, had to admit Peter’s brilliance publicly.

LS: hi sorry. This is Luke. This morning when you stopped by our table, did you happen to see a little plastic bag on it?

Why yes. The one in Peter’s pocket right now? That bag?

PP: hi!! I did, actually. You guys aren’t very subtle 😏

LS: it’s not coke

PP: I’m not judging

LS: no, it’s not coke, I swear. It’s something INFINITELY more important. Did you happen to see if it had fallen on the ground?

PP: ah, no, sorry. I didn’t see it

PP: OH NO

PP: oh my god I’m so sorry, I think I took it with me when I accidentally took your friend’s pen.

LS: I

LS: what’s your name?

PP: Peter ❤

LS: Peter, you have a fucking problem

LS: I’m starting to think that you want something from me. And listen, you’re a handsome guy, but I’m not available and my type isn’t kleptomaniac. What do you want for it?

PP: well you got me

PP: to talk

LS: about what?

PP: mostly about why you look like you’re a wet phonebook in a bad gutter

LS: a phonebook???? What era are you even from????

PP: I could say the same to you, sir.

LS: I

LS: wh

LS: alright touche. The point is that I’m not going to talk to you. I just need that bag back. It’s a life and death situation.

PP: what are they? They aren’t coke crystals.

LS: how would you know?

PP: what are you, a cop?

LS: NO. This is going nowhere. What. Do. You. Want?

PP: To. Talk.

LS: I’m not going to talk to you.

PP: then why did you ask me to rescue you?

He held his breath.

LS: I didn’t

PP: you did

LS: I didn’t ask you for shit. This is it. What’s your last name.

PP: Man 😊

LS: Man what

PP: That’s my last name.

LS: Peter Man.

PP: oop, nope, sorry. That’s someone else.

LS: …so I’m calling the police, now. That’s what we’re saying?

PP: depends. Do you still need to be rescued?

Come on, Skywalker. Come on, remember.

LS: I never asked you to rescue me.

PP: You did. Think back.

LS: I didn’t

LS: I just made a joke to

LS: WHAT AFAJSDFA DTTH E FUCK

Peter cackled and let himself fall onto his back.

PP: Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii ❤

LS: YOU’RE

PP: Just your friendly neighborhood guy ❤

LS: YOU

LS: you

PP: me

LS: THAT’s how the storms knew you

PP: yep 💋

LS: I don’t even know what to say

PP: it’s okay, you don’t have to say shit. The main thing I wanted you to know was that I hear you. And if you need it, I’ve got you.

LS: You’re literally trying to rescue me??

PP: it’s my job

LS: IT ISN’T. How have you never been arrested? how did you find me? Did you track my phone? Is it some kind of spider thing???

PP: yes

LS: I am legally obligated to kill you with the force now

PP: harder daddy

LS: ADaaSDASFSDFSdd

LS: oh my god Han is going to lose his gourd

LS: I’m sorry I just I can’t believe you of all people stole my damn hilt

PP: I’ve got……………………..sticky fingers

LS: go die

LS: no I didn’t mean that sorry that’s a thing with me and my sister. I mean, okay. You got me. Hero of NYC.

Peter’s cheeks were starting to hurt.

PP: I’ll bring them back to you.

LS: Please do, Ben’s about to have a stroke.

PP: you mean obi-wan?

LS: he’s convinced his cat ate them. There’s a staring contest happening. No one has blinked in two minutes and I don’t want to be here for the internal investigation.

PP: where do you live?

Luke sent an address. Peter held his phone high and walked it into the living room where Ned was bitchily composing an Instagram post. He and MJ looked up at the same time.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Peter said. “Luke Skywalker and Co. live in a cemetery.”

It wasn’t a cemetery. It was a funeral home, but close enough.

Luke was waiting outside on the stoop in a cardigan about four sizes too big for him. It was there probably to protect him from the equally large ragdoll cat in his arms.

Peter smiled. Luke stared at him and then shook his head and went through the screen door. Ned gave Peter a biting look.

“Made friends, I see,” he said.

“We’re doin’ great,” Peter told him, hopping up the stairs. “Look at us, totally—”

“Insidious.”

Peter stopped and turned nervously to see through the screen door where Obi-Wan Kenobi had seized both of the cat’s cheeks. Luke continued to hold it with maximum doneness levels.

“Where have you been?” Obi-Wan asked the cat seriously.

“We have guests,” Luke said. “Take your beast.”

Obi-Wan snatched the cat out of Luke’s arms with contempt all over his face.

“You are a villain of the highest order,” he told it.

“Ben. Guests. Please evacuate. I am hosting negotiations,” Luke said.

“We should have named you ‘Sith.’”

“Ben.”

Peter was not going to laugh at Obi-Wan Kenobi. That was too surreal.

“Come in,” Luke said, returning to hold open the screen. “I hope you’re not allergic. There are two of them.”

T-two?

“The other one is Junior.”

Peter stepped over the threshold and found himself in a room that looked like a human birdhouse. It was full of surfaces that were almost completely empty, as though an enrichment object had once lived there but had been removed as punishment. Luke waved Ned and MJ in and accepted their apologies on Peter’s behalf.

Peter ignored them to lock eyes with a creature more stunning than any he had ever encountered. It sat on the kitchen counter by a single clear jar labelled ‘Not Spice.’ It blinked grumpy green eyes.

“Oh, it’s these people again?”

They all looked behind them to see Obi-Wan peering around a doorframe with the first cat draped over his shoulders.

“Kleptomaniac,” Luke said, pointing at Peter. Peter waved.

“Huh,” Obi-Wan said simply. “I will distract Ahsoka.”

He vanished. Luke grimaced after him.

“Let’s go talk in the back,” he said. “There are no bodies, I promise.”

The funeral home had a little deck and a yard small even for this far out in Queens. It was crammed full of plants that appeared to be in a competition to bloom. Luke invited them to sit and then left to make coffee.

Coffee, yes, how had Peter forgotten.

He peeked over the side of the deck down where there was a large stone set in the center of the garden.

“A seeing stone,” Ned whispered to him.

“Oh, how did you know?”

They all jumped.

Peter swore that Obi-Wan hadn’t opened that sliding door. How had—what—

Ned was at a loss for words in the face of one of his greatest heroes.

“I—uh. M-movie? I mean, sorry. It was in The Mandalorian, second season, with the—”

“Yet more television,” Obi-Wan said derisively.

They all stared.

“Can you teleport?” MJ asked him.

“I thought you were bothering Ahsoka?” Luke asked, from inside. He squeezed past the man and his cat with three glass mugs in hand. He set them down on the little square table off to the side of the desk railing.

“I was, but then I got curious,” Obi-Wan said. “And I lost Junior.”

Luke stared at him.

“I’m going to lock you in the basement,” he said.

“Try, try, and try again,” Obi-Wan told him, petting his beloved cat’s head.

“Do you even know who Spiderman is, old man?”

“More television.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Peter had to keep a conscious watch on his jaw, lest it fall open in the face of the most handsome, clueless man on the planet. He watched as Obi-Wan, disgusted with all this ‘television’ nonsense skulked back off into the guts of the home. Luke shut the door behind him.

“So,” he said, holding out his hand. “We’re talking. Fork ‘em.”

Ah.

Fair was fair.

Peter produced the plastic bag from his pocket and handed it over. There was a shout somewhere inside followed by someone going ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

“Ben keeps our home ghost free. He terrifies all the wannabee haunters,” Luke said simply. “Thank you for these. I imagine it’s somewhat of a shock to learn that it’s all real.”

It was, but it wasn’t the weirdest thing Peter had encountered by far.

“How long have you lived in New York?” he asked conversationally.

Luke gave him a weird brow.

He seemed smaller than before in that enormous cardigan. Certainly smaller than the movies made him seem. His face was a little thinner too, and his lips seemed to slope into an almost permanent pout.

“About twenty years,” he said. “We were born in California, but Anakin moved us here when we were eight.”

Anakin? Like, Darth Vader, Anakin?

“’Luke, I am your father’—yeah, that guy,” Luke said with a scoff. “Except, you know, he ain’t dead. And he’s the only one who can make Ben remember that tea isn’t a meal, so we keep him around for that and to scream back at Leia.”

Peter was already completely lost to the dynamics of this household. It wasn’t like the books and movies—Ned’s twitching for his phone to take notes was proof enough of that.

“That’s awkward,” MJ said. “So did y’all do like, collective counselling for the past life shit?”

Luke deflated and moaned into his hands.

“It’s not past life shit if your damn name is the same,” he said. “It’s complicated.”

It sounded like it.

Imagine growing up with your apparently-Star War-obsessed father and uncle who’d built a home and a business (presumably) around that shit, only to find out later that they’d done it because it was literally their religion.

What a trip.

“When did you find out?” Peter asked gently.

“Oh, you know. Last week,” Luke said with a bitter grin. “Quit my fulltime job. Dumped my ex. Broke my lease and now here I am. Once again. Back at this place.”

“Do you want a hug?” Ned asked into the awkward silence.

“You’re very sweet,” Luke said. “If I touch another human, I will start crying and never stop.”

Yikes.

Barely holdin’ on by a thread there, buddy? How’s the hyperawareness going?

“Why does it matter, is my question. For you, I mean,” Luke said with a suspicious squint. “You fought a goblin guy, didn’t you? With a hover board?”

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh, yeah.

Yeah, Peter sure had done that.

“And like, the bird dude? Didn’t you down a plane?”

Perhaps.

But Luke had blown up the Deathstar, no?

“These things are not equivalent,” Luke said flatly. “I joined a rebel alliance. There were loads of us.”

Mmm. Perhaps so.

“God, how old are you even? You look 22.”

Peter gawked.

“I’m 27,” he said.

Luke did a double-take.

“That’s a lie,” he accused. “Tell the truth or be compelled.”

“By the Force?” Ned asked hopefully.

Luke blinked at him. He pointed at the glass sliding door which revealed Obi-Wan holding Junior the cat above his head by the kitchen sink.

“The Force,” he said.

Ned’s face fell.

“Do we not have the Force, here?” he asked.

Luke flinched.

“Listen,” he said abruptly, “We’re workin’ on it. This isn’t our original galaxy. The rules are all different. The only one who’s managed to make even a spark happen is Obi-Wan so far, but as soon as we find Master Yoda, it’s over. We’ll already have won.”

“You lost Yoda,” MJ mused.

Luke stammered and caught himself.

“We lost a lot of people,” he snapped. “It happens when you shift galaxies. Anyways, that’s what the stone is for.”

MJ glanced back at the stone and then leaned her forearms onto the small table.

“So, let me get this straight,” she said. “You jedi folks all popped up over here by some cosmic accident. You don’t have the Force. Most of you don’t even remember who you are. You lost your most experienced Master, and you’re going to fight the Sith?”

Peter stirred his coffee nervously.

Luke’s eye twitched.

“We don’t need the others,” he said. “We only need the Force. To fight the Sith. Yes.”

MJ frowned deep and held her chin with both hands.

“So you need the thing you for sure don’t have the most,” she said.

Luke opened his mouth, but not before the window by the door snapped open and Obi-Wan leaned out to say, “We always have the Force.”

Luke covered his face in despair.

“I was listening from the kitchen window,” Obi-Wan told him lovingly.

“GO FIND CODY ALREADY,” Luke roared at him.

“I did, he’s right here,” Obi-Wan said soothingly, stroking his angry cat.

“The other Cody.”

“Oh, I am trying, don’t you worry.”

“Ben, so help me God—”

“Force.”

“SO HELP ME FORCE—”

Star Wars had really left out the part about Luke’s explosive temper. Peter winced, but Ned laughed and the sound seemed to have a calming effect on Jedi-on-Jedi crime about to take place in the kitchen. Obi-Wan appeared pleased with this development and emboldened. He wove past Luke out onto the desk and came over, cat and all, to point down to the seeing stone in the middle of the garden.

“Others who feel the Force’s energy will be drawn to it,” he told Ned fondly. “It’s how we got Luke back home.”

“It’s not,” Luke said. “You called me.”

“And so others will also come,” Obi-Wan said with confidence. “The most important thing is that we believe in the Force. And from that, we will find guidance and power and—”

“He means Yoda,” Luke translated. “He’s been putting frogs on it as an offering, even though me, Ahsoka, and Anakin told him that this is a human’s world. A human’s world, Ben. Even if he did eat them, he’s not eating them raw.”

“Don’t be discouraged by Luke’s attitude, he is very stressed,” Obi-Wan told Ned and Ned only affectionately. “I told him not to be, you see there are four of us here already, and the Chosen One is among us.”

“Anakin told you to stop calling him that,” Luke moaned, massaging his temples.

“He was the first to be aware of our present situation,” Obi-Wan said.

“He took a hallucinogen and had a paranoid breakdown,” Luke pleaded. “Ben, please. Go inside. Think of your blood pressure.”

“Perhaps, but it was a useful breakdown, was it not?”

“I am so sorry for him, he’s getting senile,” Luke said to the rest of them.

“Your energy is different,” Obi-Wan informed Peter out of absolutely nowhere. “Are you also Force-sensitive? Were you drawn to the stone?”

Er.

No.

Sorry?

“He’s Spiderman,” Luke said, gesturing pointedly. “Remember Spiderman?”

Obi-Wan did not. Peter suspected, actually, that Obi-Wan still used phonebooks, if he used phones at all, that was.

Luke took a deep breath and let it out.

“Okay, let me just lay it out,” he said. “We’re doing the best we can with what we have. You don’t have to get involved with this. We appreciate your help, but what would help us even more is if you stay out of it, alright?”

Yeah, okay. Sure. Peter could respect that.

“Amazing. And don’t tell other people.”

Understood.

“Unless they’re Force-sensitive,” Obi-Wan said. “In which case, ask them how they feel about rocks.”

Luke just stared at him coldly this time.

“You didn’t used to be like this,” he said dangerously.

“No, I used to be stressed,” Obi-Wan told him. “But you and Ani are doing that for me, so I have resolved to be a free spirit. Nice to meet all of you. Have more coffee. I don’t like this one; I will have it out of the house by sundown.”

He left, and possibly for good this time. No one knew what to say in his absence.

“So,” Peter tried, desperate for something to break up the tension. “You said a few days ago that you were looking for someone?”

Luke finally stopped making growling faces towards the sliding door. He lit up like a bulb.

“I am, actually,” he said.

Luke was looking for a very particular person named ‘Din.’ He described him as ‘six feet tall and covered in armor.’ He asked if they knew of such a person.

Peter had to shove a hand against his mouth in case he made an unwanted connection between this description and Obi-Wan behavior.

“Haven’t,” MJ said. “Who is he?”

“My husband,” Luke said.

Ned choked.

Peter choked.

MJ tilted her head.

“You have a husband?” she asked. “I would have remembered a husband in that series.”

Luke leaned his chin on his palm and gazed sideways over the city. He seemed to sigh.

“I don’t know why he isn’t connected to me in the media created here,” he said. “It’s probably because he’s always been very shy.”

Oh, aw. Peter loved that. The contrast between them was heart-warming.

“We had a son together,” Luke said. “His child. He brought him to me. One of my students, at first.”

Hang on a minute here.

Peter exchanged a glance with Ned. Ned tried very hard to pick a way to approach this sensitively. He landed on asking, “What was his name again?”

“Din,” Luke said. “Din Djarin.”

Ned cringed.

“He was a Mandalorian,” Luke explained. “Very, very, very shy. Like, he would rather chew off his own leg than make small talk with a stranger. I think, before I knew all this, I was still subconsciously looking for him. All my exes are the same type.”

That—

Okay, so like.

Did these people own a TV?

“Do we look like we own a TV?” Luke deadpanned. “No. If Ben senses anything bigger than a datapad happening in this place, he’s driven to madness and breaks it.”

UH?

“He doesn’t actually break it,” Luke sighed. “He just finds a way to make it unusable—putting clothes on it, disconnecting the monitor, that kind of thing. He thinks they waste electricity.”

What a guy. Peter wanted to put him and May in a room and see what conspiracies they could spin together.

“Why do you ask?” Luke asked.

Ned cleared his throat.

“Do you have a, uh, datapad, then?” he asked.

“DIN. That’s DIN. He’s got his own show. Oh my god, that’s—stay right there. Don’t move.”

Bless this man. Peter wanted to hug him so bad. They’d lost him to the staircase leading up from the second floor to the attic. Peter wondered who he was showing the tablet to.

Maybe Obi-Wan?

“I told you this already,” a voice up there said.

“LOOK AT HIM.”

“You’re killin’ me, smalls. We had this exact conversation last week. Did you forget?”

“You knew where he was.”

“Alright, alright. Downward march.”

Anakin fucking Skywalker came down the stairs with a handful of Luke’s shirt in one hand and the tablet shoved under his other arm. He paused and frowned at the three of them in the kitchen frozen in shock, and then apparently decided that that didn’t matter. He carried on dragging Luke with him towards the kitchen counter. He dropped the tablet onto it and Peter realized that the lower half of his sleeve on that side was empty.

He watched as the guy let go of Luke and chased the not-angry cat off the counter, cursing.

“Alright, this?” he said, tapping on the tablet. “Is the link I put here.” He rapped the same finger on what Peter now saw was a whiteboard covered in rows upon rows of symbols that he’d never seen before.

“Din here? Din here. You see?” Vader told Luke with untold patience.

“I can’t read that,” Luke moaned. “You lied to me.”

“It’s up in the kitchen, Luke.”

“You’re a liar and a cad. Do it in Basic.”

“This is Basic.”

Oh, dear. All that fanfic about Luke meeting Darth Vader and having a breakdown was looking real embarrassed now, wasn’t it?

“If it’s Basic, why can’t I read it?” Luke demanded.

“Because, like I told you last night, the night before, and the night before that,” Vader said painstakingly, “It doesn’t all come back at once. It’s going to take time.”

“We don’t have time,” Luke snapped.

Vader leaned his head back with half-lidded eyes. Luke didn’t look even remotely like his kid, even with him looking all pre-quels-like now.

“We talked about this, too, remember?” Vader asked.

Obviously not. Luke was distressed. He had eyes only for the tablet now.

“No, of course not, silly me,” Vader said. “Why are humans here?”

“Ahsoka went home,” Luke said.

“Thank you, that was not my question.”

“What was your question?”

“Why are non-order humans here?”

“I told you, Ahsoka went—”

“Son, I will kill you if you continue to act like Obi-Wan,” Vader said without missing a beat.

“You can try,” Luke said offhandedly. “But only one of us has two handed grip.”

There was a long stare.

“It’s Obi-Wan,” Vader told him. “Why do we have living guests?”

He gestured back to Peter, Ned, and MJ like they were flies on a set of blinds.

“Oh, because that’s Spiderman and he stole your kyber crystals,” Luke said.

Vader rounded on Peter, and Peter actually felt fear.

Vader blinked once.

“This may as well happen,” he decided somehow placidly. “I’m going back upstairs. Where did your grand-master go?”

“Into the mist,” Luke said. “Can you feel Din?”

“Negative, ghostrider.”

“When the Force chooses you first out of favoritism, can you feel for Din?”

“Ah yes, can I feel for your Force-repellant life partner with all of the Force energy that I do not have? Yes, I sure can.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime, primary monstrosity of my loins.”

UM?

This felt a little hostile for Peter’s tastes. Not that it wasn’t earned. Clearly it was earned. It was just horrifying.

“Guests, you are dismissed,” Vader said in their direction. “Unless you’re drawn to the rock outside, in which case, you may stay. Otherwise, do not darken this doorstep again, or else we will leave you with the other dead in the morgue.”

“Thanks for bringing the crystals,” Luke said from behind him. “And for talking. I do feel better, actually.”

They left the funeral home. Obi-Wan was outside by the mailbox as though waiting for them. Peter wasn’t sure he had any emotional energy left to approach him with.

“Thank you for speaking to Luke,” he said as the three of them attempted to pass unnoticed. “It’s good for him to talk to others his own age.”

Uh-huh. Good night, sir?

“Good night, Peter, Ned, and Michelle.”

They hadn’t given their names.

They definitely hadn’t given their names.

Ned wasn’t sleeping for two years. He made this clear with a lot of clapping gestures and then rolled around on the floor, talking about all kinds of shit that Peter couldn’t decipher. MJ watched him and flicked her eyes up to Peter with concern on her forehead.

“That family is cinematically dysfunctional,” she said.

Correct.

“They’re barely their own characters.”

Correct.

“What now?”

Peter wasn’t sure. The best he could think of was to just keep an eye on the situation. Maybe check in every couple of weeks?

“If you say so,” MJ said. “I think you made Ned’s life, by the way. Good job.”

Peter tried checking in every two weeks. It started because he happened to hear of a tunnel collapsing in Queens nearby the funeral home. He texted Luke to ask if he needed a save and all he got back was a ‘well, not anymore.’

After that, Peter kept a close eye on happenstances occurring around the city. There were more than he bargained for. And when he glanced at Luke’s Instagram after the first week after the tunnel collapse, he noted that two of the nails on the hand Luke held his coffee to the camera with had gone completely black.

That was worrying.

Peter was used to be the danger-prone asshole in his friendgroup. He did not like this role-reversal. MJ asked him sarcastically what the problem was.

He texted Luke again.

PP: how many nails do you have left bro?

LS: we put a hole in one to release the pressure

PP: that don’t sound great bro.

LS: it’s fine. Oh, but good news

PP: oh?

LS: the most predictable thing ever has happened. The Vader has regained force power

PP: that’s worrying

LS: ? why?

PP: won’t he go dark?

LS: ah, no. He fucked up and raised me and Leia with Ben this time after our mom died. He had his chance to go dark and traded it for 8 consecutive hours of sleep instead.

PP: I truly don’t know what to say

LS: It’s fine we did 12 years of family therapy after the accident so we are no longer on the DSS watchlist

PP: I know less what to say

LS: he won’t find din :/

PP: is that your priority right now?

LS: aren’t you supposed to be spiderman or something? Don’t you have chaotic things to say?

PP: you know normally I do, this is literally out of character for me. but I think you also might be absorbing my chaos.

LS: that’s fair. I have that effect on people. Hey, is your buddy Ned available to chat? He knows more than I can remember about my old life. Can I borrow him?

That sounded like a horrendous decision.

PP: yeah let me get you his number.

LS: thanksssss

Ned reported a few days later that his services were needed at the funeral home. He was leaving them all now to befriend Luke Skywalker as was his true destiny.

He came back a few hours later and reported that his services had been helpful and he was pleased to say that Darth Vader was now the official herder of ‘wans’ in the house. This included all Obi-Wans and padawans.

He seemed to be the only guy there who could like, retain information given to him for some reason. He accepted this as his lot in life and went around repeating the same things to the others ad nauseum until they finally stuck for them.

Peter wondered if that was his personal hell.

Ned didn’t think so. He thought the guy was pretty chill about it and had probably been doing it for a while now. He did it more for Ahsoka Tano and Luke than he did for Obi-Wan. Although that was probably because Obi-Wan appeared to be on a hunt that made all non-relevant information given to him slip off his back like water.

Another two weeks. Another text.

PP: hey luke, I saw you drowning on the news. You okay?

LS: GOD my ex-workplace keeps calling welfare checks on our house. We’ve had more cops here then flies these last few days.

PP: ex-workplace is one way to refer to your old job. Sounds like they cared about you. What did you do?

LS: preschool teacher.

Peter was going to lose his shit right here on this bed.

PP: was that your calling?

LS: that was Luke Naberry’s calling. Luke Skywalker’s calling is to make the lightsaber go vrrrrrrm

PP: you honestly terrify me

LS: thanks han says the same thing. OH. HE FOUND CHEWIE.

PP: no shit??

LS: yeah I told Ned, not you. But yeah. He found him lugging boxes for a bodega. And now they both work at the same bodega. Which like, objectively, is a bad thing because Han was a UN translator.

PP: I’m

PP: sorry

PP: what?

LS: I know he was all respectable and shit. It was awful. I can look at him again without feeling like I’ve failed in every part of my life.

PP: dare I ask what your sister does?

LS: lawyer

PP: not senator?

LS: we’re not old enough to be senators.

PP: every moment becomes more concerning than the next. You fascinate me. This is why they put you in like, all the films.

LS: because I’m sexy yeah

PP: that too

LS: not to you. I’m off-limits bub. I’m married.

PP: how’s that going for you?

LS: Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

PP: I see. So no Din yet?

LS: I will find him if it kills me

PP: that’s so romantic. Hey you should watch that series. They gave him a little green yoda in it. Really cute.

LS: that’s my son you piece of shit

There was no winning here.

MJ asked him a few weeks later if he was still keeping up with the Jedi drama since the whole city had recently decided that Peter was a snack.

Obviously he hadn’t.

She told him not to worry, Ned had. She told him to talk to Ned, so he went and talked to Ned with a heatpad in one hand and a coldpack in the other.

Ned patted at him sympathetically and informed him that Luke had reunited with the Force. It was going poorly for him, mostly because the Force wasn’t used to people being in touch with it in these parts of the universe. It kept telling each of the jedi that there was a disturbance and then luring them to each other to fight to the death.

Luke described it as the Force-equivalent of an auto-immune disease.

They’d taken to gathering in the living room of the funeral home to meditate in a circle, as though to calm the Force’s anxiety while scenting each other for protection.

It had a 40% success rate. Everyone was sleeping in locked rooms for the time being, just in case someone got compelled to do something rash.

Peter asked Ned if he’d finally lost his crown as King Chaos of NYC.

Ned patted him on the knee more firmly than before and said that he could regain his crown by introducing a calming element into the jedi household.

Peter had his pride to defend, so he asked what that element ought to be.

Din Djarin, the Mandalorian, the leader of all Mandalorians, was bound to have a name that looked nothing like the one they had for him. Luke nearly exploded when Peter approached him to asked him (and his taped fingers) more about who Din Djarin was outside the name.

They proceeded with caution, however. So far, Peter and Ned had discovered only dissonance between Luke’s account of his life partner (his ‘heart, stars, sun, and sand’) and the guy on the screen for the tv show. That was to be expected, given that they had met Luke now and learned of his somewhat explosive personality.

But even still, Luke’s description of Din Djarin as ‘kind, compassionate, tender, shy, emotionally stable, dependable, sweet, caring, and hunky’ seemed slightly biased.

Peter just wanted to know how tall this guy was. Hair color. Eye color. Skin color. Blood type. That kind of shit.

Luke said that Din had brown hair, brown eyes, Type Who Knows What blood, and was about six feet tall. He had no idea how much he weighed. He’d never had need for that information. He knew that Din was human, which was probably helpful in a galaxy far, far away. He knew that he spoke Mando’a as his first language, then Basic, then a whopping fifteen others. And he knew that Din was probably looking after their son.

Vader asked Peter over a mug of coffee (also labeled in the funeral home’s cabinet as ‘not spice.’) if Spidersenses could overcome a dearth of information. It took Peter a few moments to realize that he was sympathizing with him.

“You’re not going to find Din,” Vader told Luke. “You need to look for the kid. You’ll find the kid first, you always have.”

Luke took his coffee and poured it down the drain.

Peter decided that he didn’t want to get in between that burgeoning battle. He told Luke to text him if he remembered anything else.

Wade was pissed that Peter had been meeting and ‘cavorting’ with Luke Skywalker without him. He claimed ownership of the Din Djarin mystery in order to cram himself into Luke’s good graces. But quickly, he ran into the same stumbling blocks as Peter.

Din Djarin was six feet tall with brown eyes and brown hair.

That was what they currently had to go on.

Wade would have torn out his hair if he had any, but he stopped himself and accepted the challenge. Peter watched over his shoulder as he chicken-pecked his way into a list of social security numbers held by the NYC State ID issuing department and started methodically filtering names that did not sound like ‘Din.’

He started broad with all ‘D’s and then narrowed it down further and further and further until he was left with a shitload of Daniels.

He stared at the screen before him and vibrated.

Peter massaged his shoulders before he cracked.

It helped. Wade started filtering by height, then by eye color. Then by hair, and only ended up with several hundred people.

He vibrated again, but this time, Peter couldn’t help him.

He sighed. Wade said that there had to be a better way to do this. He got up.

Wade made about four thousand missing posters with the name Din Djarin on them which he recruited the whole team to plaster up around NYC. This was not a request.

Miles asked him why they were doing this for a tv character and had to be let in on the gig.

He lost his shit.

Louis tried to retain his shit.

Angel still didn’t know how the whole jedi thing worked.

Dave hummed and haw’ed and took his time in calling bullshit. Wade asked him to look deep into his eyes and ask if he was entertaining bullshit that fine evening.

Dave changed his opinion and took a stack.

There was no way that shit was supposed to work. There was just no way. A) because Wade had the worst ideas of all mankind and B) because Peter had the worst luck of all mankind. So the two of them together should have destroyed all the prospects of success for that job.

But instead, while they were hatching a new plot involving setting up a sham sociological study for people who responded to Star Wars names, Wade’s phone went off.

He grabbed it and opened the message and lo and behold right there was a note that read,

“I hope you are not a reporting body because this is going to sound certifiably insane, but I think I might be the guy you’re looking for?”

Wade screamed.

Peter scolded him not to get too excited too soon. They had to see the man first.

Wade texted furiously, asking for a picture and got a message back that said, “please do not dox me.”

They got no answer until Wade promised not to dox the guy.

And then they got an image of a man with brown hair and brown eyes with olive skin. His face was remarkably square. The picture wasn’t just him, though, he had in his arms a little boy with a head covered in tight ringlets. His eyes were so dark they were nearly black and he was maybe two years old.

The caption said, “apologies, my son needed to be in the picture.”

Wade cooed and entered Dad Mode to ask how old the baby was and what he liked to do and Peter lost the fathers to that small talk for a while before Wade oh-so-casually asked, “So you feel like you’re from outer space?”

“It sounds strange,” the guy on the other said wrote back, “But I do. Like every day I wake up and look in the mirror and something is wrong. I feel like I’m always forgetting something when I leave the house. I watched the tv show of the guy who’s name was on your fliers and the kid in it reminds me so much of my son. It’s eerie. They make the same sounds. He made the same sounds before we even watched that show.”

Wade whistled.

“I think this is him, Pete,” he said. “He called Baby Yoda a ‘kid’ not a yoda.”

Peter stared. He hadn’t even caught that. That was smart as hell.

“So what now?” he asked.

Wade sniffed.

“Get Skywalker to send you a selfie,” he said.

PP: Luke are you pretty right now?

LS: My face is intact

PP: take a selfie and send it to me

LS: cannot do that. Face is intact is a baseline situation. Let me find an old one. Oh, they all have my ex in them. This is awkward.

PP: it doesn’t matter I can crop it.

LS: no I have to be cute or I’ll perish hold on

PP: are you sure you’re not Johnny Storm?

LS: yes, he’s got loads of muscles. Sent.

Selfie acquired.

Luke looked very smiley in it. His eyes were blown out from the lighting, but it showed his sloping smile and his low, back-set dimples. Peter sent it to Wade. Wade sent it to his new friend.

They waited.

They waited five minutes.

Then ten.

Then half an hour.

Then nearly two.

And finally, Wade’s phone rang. He picked it up and set it on speaker so that Peter could hear.

“Hello?” Wade said.

There was a long pause.

“Where did you get that picture?” a low, almost smoky voice demanded on the other side.

“A friend,” Wade said sleazily. “You know him? He’s a cute little thing, ain’t he?”

It took the dude on the other side of the line worryingly long to respond.

“What do you want?” he finally asked.

Wade brought his head down in interest.

“What’re you willing do to?” he asked.

They waited. Peter didn’t know what was taking this guy so long to—

“Anything.”

Ah.

Okay. That.

That sounded about right.

Wade cackled.

“You know his name?” he asked.

“I do,” the man said.

“What’s his name then, pal?” Wade asked.

“It’s none of your fucking business.”

Holy shit. Holy shit. Peter clutched the back of the couch. Wade was grinning so hard, Peter could see it through his mask.

“You want him, you need to show me that you know who he is,” Wade said. “I ain’t got ‘im here, but I know where he is. Come on, big boy. Who is he?”

Peter could hear the man take in a deep, shaky breath.

“His name is Luke,” Din fucking Djarin, the Mandalorian himself, said.

Din fucking Djarin’s name at the moment was Danny Jabaran. He stood six feet tall with a medium build and that baby of his in his arms.

He was not afraid of Wade.

He was not afraid of Peter.

The suits didn’t scare him; this man was a space warrior. The leader of the space warriors. Peter was humbled to stand in his presence, old jeans and tattoos and all.

“Vigilantes,” he acknowledged.

“Deadpool,” Wade said, offering a hand. “And this is?”

“Grogu,” Djarin said.

Baby Yoda lifted his big liquid eyes up to Wade and blinked twice. Then he wriggled around and hid in Djarin’s neck. Djarin put a hand on his back and didn’t drop eye contact.

“Tell me everything,” Djarin said.

Ned screamed. Michelle screamed. Peter reminded them that he had neighbors and invited Mr. Mand’alor to sit on the couch for a bit while he called Luke.

Michelle claimed the spot next to Djarin and asked Baby Yoda Grogu for his little hand. He studied her and hid again, making a prolonged sound of distress that Djarin cut off by saying, “Hey. Manners.”

This somehow made baby Grogu turn back to Michelle to stare at her offered hand.

He took it. She shook with him and then took hers away.

Grogu perked up and reached for it again.

“You’re the Mandalorian,” Ned said.

Djarin looked right at him.

“A Mandalorian,” he corrected.

Ned blinked back tears.

“You’re so cool,” he creaked.

Djarin frowned.

“You...are too?” he tried.

Ned wept into a fist.

Peter left them to call Luke in his bedroom. Luke picked up on the third ring with the start of an ingrained greeting that sounded a whole lot like a customer service recording. He caught himself, though.

“I have someone I’d like you to talk to,” Peter said. “I think you might want to sit down.”

Luke’s unusual quiet on the other side made Peter grin.

“Are you sitting?” he asked.

“I’m sitting.”

“Alright, one moment,” Peter said, walking out into the living room. Djarin had edged far, far away from Ned, as far as he possibly could without being rude. He looked up when Peter came over and sat down on the arm next to him.

“Say hi,” Peter said.

Djarin frowned at him and then the phone.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

Peter waited. Djarin lifted his head over to see the phone’s screen.

“Hello?” he tried.

“Din?”

The Spidey Sense crashed through Peter like a tidal wave.

Djarin had gone completely still.

“Din? Is that you? Can you hear me?”

“Shit,” Djarin said, lifting a hand to cover his eyes. “Goddamnit. Jesus.”

“DIN.”

“Dank Fucking Farrik.”

“Oh my god.”

Baby Grogu’s face snapped toward the phone with huge eyes. He grabbed at Djarin’s collar, then his jaw and started bouncing a little in his arms.

“Bu?” he asked.

Djarin couldn’t make himself move.

“Grogu?” Luke asked. “Hey, baby, is that you, bubba?”

Grogu grabbed Djarin’s face urgently, so that he couldn’t hide his raw eyes anymore.

He pointed at the phone.

“Yeah, I hear ‘im, kid,” Djarin said.

“MMMMM. Gib.”

“Ah. That’s not ours. We don’t grab. We ask,” Djarin reminded as Grogu pleaded for the phone. Peter snickered and gave it to him. He just held it, staring.

“Do you wanna see him?” Peter asked. “Luke, can we maybe video chat?”

“Y-yeah,” Luke said. “Hold on. Oh god, my face. Uh, hey Din are you still near-sighted, hon?”

Djarin huffed a laugh that turned into a whole-body tremor.

“I got contacts,” he said a little hysterically.

“You got WHAT?” Luke yipped, “Okay, no. No, I gotta. Be still, this heart. Okay let me just take off the butterflies. On moment, Grogu, Daddy’s just gotta dunk his face in the damn sink.”

MJ bounced her eyebrows at Peter as he gently took the phone back from Grogu and tapped on the camera. He offered it back the kid and received a deep gaze of wonder in return. Djarin turned the screen right-side up in his hands.

Luke finally turned his camera on and revealed himself to be very swollen in the jaw with damp hair and a cut very close to the rim of his left eye.

Grogu screeched.

Luke laughed.

“Look at you,” he said, “I’m gonna cry. Oh my god. Where’re your ears, pal?”

Grogu analyzed this reaction for 2 full seconds and then shoved the camera right into his dad’s forehead. Djarin took it from him and liberated himself so that he could see Luke who was clutching at his face, absolutely already sobbing, bless him.

He looked up to see Grogu and instead got Djarin and finally just broke right in half.

Peter swallowed back the growing lump in his throat. His eyes were starting to warm a little.

Djarin found a watery smile in himself.

“I know you’re not cryin’ because of me,” he said gently.

“Where’s your helmet?” Luke sobbed, wiping viciously at his eyes. “People are watching, you harlot.”

“I know,” Djarin said. “I lost it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Luke.”

“This is all my fault. I should’ve—I should’ve—”

“Luke,” Djarin said again, full of warmth, “You died for us.”

Luke shook harder than ever.

“There is no greater sacrifice a warrior can make,” Djarin told him. “I was honored for you to have made it for me and our son. This has always been the Way.”

“This is the Way,” Luke stammered.

“I missed you,” Djarin said. “Where in God’s name have you been?”

“I was a preschool teacher in the Bronx, man, I dunno what happened,” Luke said tipping his face up to force the tears back in.

“In the Bronx? Where?”

“Uh, off Allerton and Lurting?”

Djarin started shaking with laugher.

“I work off Laconia and Mace,” he said.

“You what?”

“We’ve been blocks apart this whole time.”

Awwwwww.

“I’m going to stab myself,” Luke moaned. “I’m going to stab myself in the arm. I was right there and I sold out for my part-time gig barely weeks ago. Oh my god. I’m going to—move, old man, I’m suffering—Wait. Din, did you find your parents?”

Djarin stood up and held the phone out straight.

“Where are you right now?” he asked.

Look at all these people hugging each other.

Look at them crying all over. There was a baby in there, wailing because he was so happy to be back in the arms of his other dad.

Aww. AWWWW. Peter was getting emotional again, he was going to see himself out.

“Wait. Peter.”

He looked up to find Luke holding a hand to him.

“Thank you,” he said. “You really are a superhero, you know that?”

Yeah.

Sometimes, he did.

The city had plenty of problems as it was, yeah, more now with a bunch of jedi running around, linking up with each other and spreading memory like mushroom spores. But it didn’t feel that much different.

What it felt like now was Ned showing Grogu how to hold his hand at the seeing stone in the funeral home’s back yard to make the Force happen while Obi-Wan reported cheerfully that the cat perched on it was still not levitating.

It also felt like watching Luke freak out over text to Ned and Michelle about his ex losing their mind at him dumping them after two years to marry this random mechanic within a week of getting together.

Peter got to see this from new angles, too, one of which was the bottom of the funeral home’s attic stairs, which Anakin Skywalker liked to sit on while his grandkids—both Grogu and Han Solo and Leia Organa (pardon, Leia Naberry)’s son—came over to show him things that he was very well aware of. These were stolen from him by Auntie Ahsoka and her friends who Ned knew and Peter did not.

And there was something warming about how even these folks—people from a galaxy far, far away, occasionally needed a Spiderman.

#spiderman #starwars #dinluke #inimitable verse #ficlet #this is the niche of the niche but I know like 5 of you read both my mando and spiderman fics #so this is for you doll #and also the fact that I have a fucking PROBLEM

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