#the pick fic

[sirtouchstarved]

nonononononnononononononon- PLEASE NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASPELPSALSLEPLAPSLEPALPPLEASPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE

PLEASE NO NOT NOW NOT LIKE THIS, BELOVED PLEASE, PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME LIKE THIS I'M NOTHING WITHOUT YOU

[starry-bi-sky]

FUNNIEST fucking shit that comes with making Danny eleven years old when he had his accident in "late at night, when the nightingale sings" is the implication following, that everything that happened in the show did too. And I fully intend on (mostly) keeping it like that. There'll be some changes (of which I need to figure out) but for the most part??? Yeah relatively the same.

Like I FULLY intend on keeping Dark Danny occurring 6 months post accident. Do you know how fucking HILARIOUS that is??? That Dan got his ass kicked by a goddamn FIFTH-SIXTH GRADER?? I'd never show my face ever again. Homeboy spent the last ten years being a one-man mass extinction event, only to get his ass beat by a kid who hasn't even lost his last baby tooth. That's hysterical. I'm losing my mind just thinking about it.

AND PARIAH DARK TOO. Imagine being an eons old tyrant capable of dragging whole towns down into your dimension, and you get singehandedly shoved back into your coffin in less than 48 hours by a kid whose bedtime is still 8:30. You didn't even have the time to expand your army! You were still trying to take over the city the kid came from!

And he just!!! Shoves you back in!! Insane! This kid hasn't even been dead for a full year yet! He's still growing in his ghost fangs! And he just knocked you flat on your ass in an oversized mech suit. What the fuck! It's like looking down and seeing a four week old kitten meowing very indignantly at you and trying to bite your feet, except that kitten is also actually a black-footed cat and they have a 60% kill success rate, and oops! Now you're dead. You took too long laughing at the kitten trying to attack you that it clawed up your pant leg and ripped out your throat.

COULD I, realistically, span these episodes out over the course of 2.5 years prior to Danny's family dying?? Yes I could! Do I think it's hilarious (and horribly traumatizing, which makes it twice as fun) to shove all of this into the span of (roughly) a year instead?? Yes. Because the show has such a skewed timeline that I've always just assumed that at the end of the show, Danny was starting his sophomore year in high school. So fuck it, lets go for it!

[dcxdpdabbles]

Danny: You want me to what?

Tim: Give this letter to Batman for me.

Danny: Why?

Tim: I need to tell him something, but I can't give him the option of capturing me.

Danny: But he can catch me?

Tim: He doesn't want you.

Danny: Damn, alright.

Tim: No, sorry, I mean - look, just give him the letter and don't tell him anything about me. Here is 10k in cash. Can you do it?

Danny: For 10K? Yeah, okay.

Ten hours later

Danny: LET ME OUT

Bruce: It's okay, son. We're going to help you get your memories back.

Danny rattling the bars: I'm not Tim Drake. He just hired me to give you the letter!

Bruce: A letter claiming Tim Drake was tired of his life with us and that he was going to become a regular citizen, so don't look for him? Your only involvement with the letter and him is that he paid you to delivery it?

Danny: YES!

Bruce: And the fact you both look exactly alike has nothing to do with this?

Danny: I don't question it. You start questioning stuff and bad things happen to you

Bruce: Bad things like memory loss.

Danny: IM NOT TIM DRAKE. LET ME OUT.

Bruce: Until we know what they did to easrse your memories I'm afraid your going to remain in containment.

Danny: WHY!? I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING

Bruce: You stabbed Jason

Danny: No, he rudely walked into my knife

[lil-lemon-snails]

don't let him hear you say that!

[starful-emporium]

Aabria wouldn't have specified the bird if she didn't want someone to make fanart of a piece of paper, right?

I got a little carried away and made a whole template for you to write your own magical letters.

here's my original piece:

and here's pngs of the versions with guidelines and instructions to write your own letter! Or, get the psd from my kofi here.

Tag me if you make anything with this, I'd love to see it!

[noodles-and-tea]

Back at it with my enchanted merthur shenanigans

[frownyalfred]

Batfamily/Superfamily angst fic where one of the Supes (Jon? Kon?) takes off too quickly/recklessly next to one of the Batkids and accidentally ruptures their eardrum and Bruce goes on the warpath for Clark about it.

[heart-select]

Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips

[patolemus]

merlin magic reveal fic where arthur asks “why didn’t you tell me?” and merlin says, mirthless smile and haunted eyes “all my dreams end in fire. fire and burning and dying”

[disgruntledpoptart]

...the heavens have closed and God has abandoned us (ao3 is down)

[ghostbsuter]

Very much inspired by this !!

—

Phantasm crashed into the side of a building, the rest of his team- the TeenTitans- stayed back. They were otherwise occupied, with the rest of the H.I.V.E. five attacking them.

They'd gotten a new member, one with a similar, nearly identical power set of their own new member.

Phantom.

Phantasm and Phantom, two mirror look alikes, they went absolutely feral whenever one was in sight. It was driving Robin mad, Beast Boy had joked about cloning but after they started to actually consider that option.

"Well, well, well." Phantom mocks, glowing green to Phantasm's red.

"Shut. The fuck. Up." Phantasm charges again, throwing the other into windows with a growl.

They kept bickering, hitting and injuring each other, until—

"Stop being so annoying!" Phantasm shouts, baring his fangs. Phantom, in return, stuck his tongue out.

"You're just jealous I got the Villain role!!"

At this point, their respective teams had called a draw and watched them fighting.

"You're a lousy villain!"

"I'm having the time of my life beating the shit out of you actually."

"I'm calling jazz."

At that, Phantom starts glaring. "I thought we agreed on not bringing this up to our sister?"

[justaz]

merlin who uses his magic everyday in ways that he doesn’t realize isn’t normal. magic helping him see in the dark so he can find his way in the woods or dark rooms with no problem. connecting with the woods around him so he always knows where he is and whats in the general vicinity which allows him to sense bandits just before they attack. using magic to keep warm in the cold or to cool down in the heat. confident and willing to go toe to toe with anyone bc he knows that regardless of what they throw at him, he could always win bc he could just use magic.

then somehow someway (post magic reveal) a sorcerer takes away merlin’s magic. or well just locks it away ig. but anyways merlin doesn’t have this part of him anymore and is left feeling empty, exposed, and vulnerable. arthur, the knights, and merlin going on a quest for answers to their problem and a way to get merlins magic back. but. but. but merlin is all jumpy and he’s rambling more than ever and is often reaching out to grab onto someone (usually arthur) and everyone’s confused and then they get ambushed and merlin freezes in the middle of the path like a deer. he’s watching everything go down around him with wide eyes until he’s targeted and one of the knights have to rush in to save him. afterward merlin is constantly holding someone and his grip is rather tight. he keeps looking around, his eyes scanning the trees around them over and over. when they try and settle down for the night, merlin wont leave the camp without an escort or two and when they’re trying to go to sleep, merlin is flinching at every noise in the woods around them and ends up shuffling over toward the person closest to him and laying pressed up against them.

arthur opening his mouth to tease and call him a coward when the word registers in his mind and he realizes that that’s what he’s actually seeing, merlin scared and defenseless. he ofc doesn’t realize the true depth of it all, i mean he knows merlin is missing his magic but he doesn't know that magic has always been a part of merlin, it makes him him. he’s had magic since he was born, he’s never known life without it. as he is now, he feels bare and exposed and blind and deaf and terrified. the knights are his defense rn and for the past few years, merlins been their protector so its a complete reversal of everything he’s ever known. he’s scared. arthur bites his tongue and lets merlin hold onto his arm and snuggle up close at night for some form of comfort and security. he doesn’t tease or mock and responds to his ramblings of fear with a level of gentleness the knights weren’t aware he even possessed. merlin slowly relaxing as arthur subtly comforts him without addressing it

[senipsenipsenip]

Dipper sighed as he felt another pen crack between his molars. Great, Mabel was definitely going to make fun of him for the ink stains on his mouth when she got home. He could hear it now, Wow Dipper, I knew you were a nerd, but I didn't know if I left you alone you'd start kissing your homework.

Dipper sighed and threw the pen into the trash with the other three he'd already snapped. It wasn't fair - he spent the whole summer fighting monsters and saving the world, why did he have to learn the stupid Great Depression's effect on American Literature or whatever. He glanced at the calendar. Only a little over a month until winter break. Grunkle Stan and Great Uncle Ford had promised to try and make it back to Gravity Falls so they could host the twins for the holidays. Sure, they had only been on the open ocean for a couple of months, but the two of them decided it would probably be best to start with a shorter trip then build up from there. After all, despite their age, they were still rookies. Besides, there was nothing on the sea that would help jog Stan's memory other than Great Uncle Ford's questioning. Being on home soil would hopefully bring back some more of Stan's forgotten past.

Dipper's phone pinged. He frowned. That shouldn't happen. He had his phone on Do Not Disturb so he could finish studying. The only alerts that would still pass through were texts from Mabel, Grunkle Stan, or Great Uncle Ford. Mabel never texted when she was out with her friends, and it's not like there was a lot of cell reception out at sea. Curiosity peaked, Dipper unlocked his phone.

It was Stan. More specifically, Stan's boots on the deck of the boat. It was a video, and before Dipper could press play, three little dots appeared indicating Stan was typing. Dipper sat back and waited. It usually took Grunkle Stan awhile to type out his messages. He always blamed the too small phone screen, saying it wasn't designed for fat fingers and cataracts.

What does this mean?

Dipper frowned at the message. Was he asking Dipper to decode a message? Why wouldn't he just ask Great Uncle Ford? Unless...oh gosh was Great Uncle Ford in danger? Did they need help? Why wouldn't he call? Dipper turned his volume up as high as he could, pressing play with a sweaty thumb.

The video started on Stan's boots, but quickly shifted as Stan started pointing his phone at something on the...oh. The wooden planks Dipper had seen Stan standing on weren't the planks of the boat deck, they were floorboards for an outdoor patio. A patio that was full of people speaking...some sort of language. Something Nordic maybe. Geez, weren't they freezing? Maybe not because...Nordic.

The camera was pointed at the door separating the bar from the patio, specifically, the top right corner where a set of speakers had been hung. Oh, Dipper realized. He's trying to record the music. Dipper held the phone to his ear. Maybe Stan was trying to figure out a secret code in the lyrics? He was pretty sure he had told Stan all about that day when they saved Wendy from Robbie's horrible music. This sounded a lot different than Robbie's music though. It was way more upbeat and -

...comin' through, that girl is youuuu...

"Oh my God," Dipper groaned, letting his head fall to his desk. Of course. Of course that's what would be playing. Of course a Nordic bar would be blasting Icelandic Pop Sensation BABBA.

Now Stan's message made sense. He had heard the song and felt "The Itching". That's what Stan had taken to calling it when he could feel himself starting to remember something, but needed a little extra help making it make sense. Stan said it was because it felt like an itching in the back of his brain. Dipper was pretty sure he called it that because if he announced he had "an itch that needs scratching" it was always a fifty-fifty toss up as to whether he needed help with a memory or literally wanted someone to help him scratch himself. Sometimes it was both. Either away, Stan got a kick out of how many times he could trick Ford.

Dipper grimaced. Maybe he could get out of this one. After all, Stan doesn't need all of his memories...right? He could forget some of the more embarrassing ones.

It's a song by BABBA. He typed. It's called "Disco Girl." There. The fact Stan's going to know that Dipper can identify the song is embarrassing enough, he doesn't need to remember The Incident.

The three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again.

Oh. OK.

Dipper sat his phone down. There. That was that. He didn't need to feel guilty about how Stan somehow managed to sound disappointed with two words. Besides, he had homework to do. He was a busy guy. Yep, not gonna think about it.

His phone pinged.

Made me think of you.

Okay. Starting to feel guilty now. Dipper sighed. Even over text message, he could hear the tone of voice Stan would say it in. That tone where he would say something like it was just a careless aside so that you wouldn't think he was taking something seriously, so then you wouldn't take it seriously, so that he could tell himself you didn't take it seriously because you thought he wasn't taking it seriously and not because you don't take him seriously or care about him seriously or -

Dipper frowned. Maybe these English classes were doing something after all. Apparently all of that fictional character analysis made him better at analyzing his uncle.

He could picture Stan now, having already sat his phone face-down on the table, wondering why there was some memory of Dipper that Dipper didn't want to share with him. Oh man, he probably thinks Dipper's tired of helping out with his memories or something.

That's because you heard me sing it once. Dipper wrote. That should be enough to jog Stan's memory a bit.

The three dots. Heard or saw?

Dipper groaned. Maybe Stan was just messing with him. He probably remembered the whole thing and was just trying to get Dipper to regale him with the story again so he could laugh at him.

Whatever. Dipper would be the bigger man.

Both. You walked in on me after I got out of the shower. You really need to learn how to knock, man.

There. That should be enough. Hopefully Stan and Ford will get back on the boat and see a giant Kraken or something equally as awesome so Stan forgets all about this conversation.

He exited out of their message thread and opened up his thread with Great Uncle Ford. Whatever "clever" joke Stan wanted to make at his expense would probably take forever to write. Might as well take advantage of the good cell service while he knows they have it.

Hey! Are you with Grunkle Stan?

Three bubbled appeared. Dipper didn't have to wait long. Ford was a surprisingly quick texter.

Yes, we're exploring the town together. I take it you're the one he's been texting?

Yeah. He had an itch. Nothing crazy, just a song he heard this summer he couldn't remember the name of. Okay, he probably could have told Ford. Especially after learning about the whole Kiss-Bot incident, Dipper's BABBA incident definitely didn't come close. But c'mon, wasn't Dipper allowed to have at least one family member who thought he had a shred of dignity left?

He smiled. Probably not. After all, he was a Pines.

Ah, that explains his behavior then.

Dipper frowned. Behavior? Is he okay?

Oh yes, of course. My apologies if my language was alarming, Stanley says I tend to word things "dramatically". He's simply trying to ask the table next to us if there are any music stores nearby. I didn't realize children still used physical CDs.

Wait. Stan is looking for a music store? Why specifically mention children? Dipper typed slowly, wording his questions as discretely as he could.

Oh? Is Stan looking for a CD?

The bubbles appeared. Then disappeared. Dipper frowned. They reappeared.

Disregard my earlier message.

Oh they were definitely up to something. Two could play at that game. You don't live with a professional con man all summer and not learn how to get what you want out of someone.

Okay. Hey, Grunkle Stan showed me a bit of the patio. Can you send a video too? Would be interested in seeing where you are.

Of course. One moment, please.

Dipper sat his phone on his desk while he waited. Realistically, he should be working on his homework while he waits. It's not like he'll be able to focus on anything when Mabel gets home. But, it's not like he can focus on anything now, mind buzzing as much as it is.

After three minutes and fifty-three seconds, Dipper's phone pinged. He grinned and pressed play.

The video started pointing toward the other side of the patio. Made sense, Ford was probably sitting across from Stan at their table. Stan was nowhere to be seen though. He must have stood up to speak to the table next to him. Dipper could see townsfolk sat at their tables in heavy winter coats, hats, scarves, and gloves. Everyone was wrapped up in their own conversations, and while Ford panned slowly across the porch, Dipper recognized another BABBA song playing faintly in the background. The owner must have had a playlist going. There were fairy lights strung up across the porch, street lamps helping illuminate the night. Wherever they were must have been in the middle of some small town, probably no bigger than Gravity Falls.

"Ford!" Grunkle Stan's voice rang out. Dipper quickly held the phone up to his ear again. There was a loud metallic grating sound - probably Grunkle Stan pulling out his chair to sit down again.

"You're never gonna believe it!" Stan sounded excited about something.

"A moment, please, Stan," Ford murmured.

"We don't have to go to the music store! Those people didn't speak English but the guy who runs this place does a little. That internet translator did the rest."

"Google, Stanley."

"Whatever. Anyway, he said he'd sell me the CD he's playing right now when he closes up for the night."

"That's great Stan. Hold on a moment I'm just trying to film this for -"

"Dipper's gonna love this! I think. It's sort of coming back to me. I think that memory he helped me with, I think..."

Stan trailed off. Dipper pulled the phone away from his ear to see if the video had ended, but Ford was still dutifully scanning their surroundings with the camera. It looked like Ford had stood up, holding the phone high above his head to show Dipper the coastline beyond the porch railings.

"I think I told him I was proud of him that day." Stan's confession was quiet. But Stan quiet. Which meant loud enough to be picked up on Ford's camera.

Ford's movement stopped. "You did? Why?"

"Well. I sorta did. I think. He was tryna prove he was 'a man' or whatever, so I told him he was. He stood up for what was right even though no one else agreed with him. And then I think I uh...ripped my shirt off and showed him my chest hair. Maybe I should get him to fill in some of those blanks there."

Ford laughed. "I don't remember it taking much to get you to take your shirt off."

"I'm a gross, old man now, Ford. We'd all prefer if it stayed on."

Ford hummed. "So how much is the CD?"

"Eh, he wants like 500 Kroner."

"Seems overpriced."

"Well it's gonna be free."

Ford sighed. "Stanley..."

"What?" Stan cried indignantly. "He's obviously tryna scam me anyway! Besides, it's worth it. Dipper will love it! It's a CD of a band he likes from Iceland stolen from Iceland. Trust me it'll be worth the -"

All sound stopped. The video had ended. Dipper sat at his desk, a small smile on his face. He had been so worried about Stan remembering one of his more embarrassing moments but...Stan remembered it as a day that Dipper made him proud. Huh.

He exited the video and saw that Ford had sent him another message only a minute after sending the video.

Please disregard that video. Terrible audio quality, I have to retake it.

As Dipper began to type a reply, he saw three bubbles appear. He waited.

I'm going to infer that the delay in your response is because you didn't see my message in time and already viewed the video. My apologies, I forget how strong the audio quality of phone cameras are.

Three more bubbles.

Please act surprised.

Ah well. Dipper had omitted the truth a couple of times tonight. What was one more? He started to type.

Sorry, I was working on my homework while I waited for an answer. Guess I got distracted. Should I not watch the video?

Three bubbles. Ah, I see. Yes, that would be for the best. I'll take another video for you now. In the meantime, keep up the good work!

Dipper sat his phone back down on the table and picked up another pen. Might as well do a little more homework so he wasn't totally lying. But first...

He opened his message thread with Stan.

Need help with anything else?

Nope. Go to bed.

Dipper laughed. There it was. The curmudgeon was back, trying to hide the fact he was a big softie underneath.

It's earlier here you know. If anyone should be in bed, it should be you.

I'm old. I do what I want.

Okay old man. Love you!

Sap.

Dipper snorted and sat down his phone. A moment later, it pinged again. He glanced at the screen and saw it was another message from Stan. It was only two words, but they knocked together like flint and steel, lighting something warm in Dipper's chest.

You too.

AN: A continuation of this! I kind of just want to write a bunch of one shots going with this. Some ideas are brewing!

[not-equippedforthis]

forever mourning how granada holmes never adapted the three garridebs. diabolical. unbelievable, even. 'if you had killed watson you would not have made it out of this room alive' but in brett's frightfully intense and low, biting, hissing voice. the violent, wild stare versus the gentle hand on watson's knee. all of that precarious control getting flung out the window. the humanity of it. gritting my teeth can you fucking imagine.

[tartppola]

deucey & yuu, earlier into their friendship, takes place after book 2, before book 3, early in the school year there were people who didn't take kindly to the prefect entering nrc

slightly related comic

[please-destroy]

Jurassic Heart

Natasha Romanoff x Clumsy!Dork!Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

.

‘You’re allowed to look.’ The beautiful red-headed woman told you with an obvious grin. You didn’t dare, keeping your gaze firmly at eye level and flushing obviously with embarrassment.

‘No, really.’ The woman insisted lightly. Her teasing tone made you certain that she’d caught your lingering stares from across the room. 

‘I just think your costume is really cool.’ You told her embarrassedly, trying to swerve the implication that you’d been looking at her breasts. 

‘Not as cool as yours.’ She leaned forward so you could hear her over the thrum of music. Her finger tapped the side of your wrist. Her touch made your skin tingle.

‘I’m Natasha.’ She called out and her head tilted invitingly. The small braid woven into her long hair caught your eye.

‘(Y/N)’ You replied with a nervous smile. 

‘How did you end up here?’ Natasha raised her eyebrow like she knew it would be a good story. You swallowed nervously, aware of how out of place you seemed at a party like this. 

‘I’m just an intern.’ You told her, trying to rub the back of your neck and hitting yourself with the spiky wing that was part of your costume. You winced in surprise and Natasha’s lips twitched with a small smile.

‘You’re cute.’ Natasha determined and her finger tapped the side of your wrist again. Your cheeks suddenly felt unbearably warm. You hadn’t expected her to flirt. 

‘You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.’ You replied unthinkingly. Your eyes widened with momentary panic as you heard the truth fall from your mouth.

Natasha’s teasing smirk faded as she registered your words. Her head tilted curiously. Your gazes tangled up for a moment and you tried to take a mental picture of the colour of her eyes. 

After a moment, Natasha's touch trailed down your wrist as she went to take your hand instead.

‘Let’s get a drink.’ She decided, leading you over to the bar. 

.

The bartender, dressed as someone from the stone age, couldn’t stop staring at the front of Natasha’s costume either. 

‘I like your, uh, little arms.’ She told Natasha with an overfriendly smile as she made up her cocktail.

‘I bet you do.’ Natasha replied with polite but clear disinterest.

You felt her thumb draw patterns on the back of your hand. Your stomach flipped.

Don’t screw this up. Your mind warned you immediately.

You pushed the thought away, you didn’t have a clue what you were doing anyway. 

You accepted a drink from Natasha gratefully. 

You raised the glass to your mouth and watched Natasha bite an olive from a cocktail stick in her martini. You faltered and wondered if you were having a fever dream.

‘Uh.’ You tried to start a conversation. You tried to think of something to say that wasn’t ‘Lips’, ‘Natasha’ or most embarrassingly ‘Bite Me.’

‘Our costumes match pretty well.’ Natasha looked you up and down thoughtfully, mercifully ignoring your awkwardness. 

You remembered how to function and nodded as you sipped your drink.

‘I wasn’t sure what the ‘Historic Moment’ theme meant on the invitation.’ You murmured, voice lowering automatically now that you were standing together at the quieter edge of the bar.

Natasha glanced over at the crowd on the dance-floor. You followed her gaze, scanning a sea of people wearing the sexiest outfits imaginable that could barely be called vintage.

You looked back at Natasha, taking the opportunity of her distraction to glance down again at the front of her dress. 

Unlike your own, Natasha’s costume couldn’t have taken more than a few minutes to assemble. 

All she’d done was tape two tiny T-Rex arms to the bustiest part of her green dress. 

You’d both come dressed as dinosaurs, but you knew for certain that your own homemade pterodactyl contraption was not attracting the same appreciative glances as Natasha’s.

You’d stared at her chest, deep in thought. When you looked back up, Natasha was waiting patiently for your attention. 

‘Oh no.’ You mumbled, moving to hide your face with your hands. You forgot about the attached string pulley system again. You smacked yourself in the face with your own pterodactyl wings. 

You fought the tears that sprung in your eyes at the surprise hit. The wing looked absurdly soft but there were still metal coat hangers underneath the fabric.

You screwed it up. Your mind whispered.

You stared up at the assortment of loose balloons that bobbed against the ceiling. You tried to recollect yourself. You wished desperately you hadn’t worn such a lame costume. 

You jumped when Natasha’s hand touched your cheek. She hummed gently as her thumb brushed your skin.

‘That looked sore.’ She murmured, her eyes catching yours. There was a heartbeat. You felt the steady thump of the loud music through your feet. 

You noted absentmindedly that Natasha’s eyes were a much prettier green than her costume. You realised you could barely remember your own name when she looked at you. 

Natasha moved closer. Her lips brushed your cheek and shivers went through you. Her hand slid along your waist, just under the hem of your costume.

You breathed out slowly as her lips left your cheek. Natasha gave you a careful smile, assessing your reaction silently. Her hand didn’t leave your waist.

‘Come and meet my friends?’ She offered, her fingers drumming a soft pattern against your body. 

You started to nod, before you hesitated.

‘My costume.’ You mumbled. ‘I should take it off.’

Natasha smirked. 

‘Maybe later.’ She told you and it sounded like a promise. 

.

You let her lead you down some stairs and around the side of the large dance floor. You didn’t realise that you were in the VIP section until you saw Tony Stark approaching you.

His eyes scanned across Natasha’s costume, lingering obviously on the tiny T-Rex arms. Then, he glanced at yours.

‘Glad someone got the right idea.’ He declared, gesturing down at his own Freddie Flintstone costume. ‘I thought Out of Time was self explanatory. But it looks like a slutty ABBA reunion out there.’

His eyes flickered over your costume again. 

‘You work for me?’ He asked neutrally. You nodded, gulping automatically at his tone. You suddenly imagined having to tell people that you’d been fired because you pretended to be a dinosaur at your boss’ party.

‘Good.’ He said abruptly. ‘That wing mechanism is fantastic.’

Natasha’s hand slid easily out of yours as Tony moved to introduce you to his friend. You gave her a helpless look. Natasha gave you a small wave, eyes twinkling.

You watched her attention flicker to a group of women in the corner and she wandered over with a familiarity that told you they were good friends.

Captain Rhodes was deeply impressed by the wings on your back and the unnecessary features that you’d added to them just for fun. He murmured something distractedly about military tech and then went to get another man. Before long, there were several people asking you questions about the home-made contraption. You tried not to seem nervous, sipping your drink and pretending like any of this was normal. 

A server wandered past the group and Tony grabbed two drinks from the tray. Calmly, he offered you another glass of the same drink that you’d just finished. Then he started asking you about your internship and the other projects that you’d been working on. You stumbled over your words as you tried to explain how much the 6 month opportunity meant to you.

You tried to ignore the voice in your head worrying that you were screwing it all up again. 

Tony stayed silent as you talked. It made your ramble feel even more out of control.

.

‘Tomorrow is a new day.’ He declared when you finally lapsed into silence. ‘Actually.’ He corrected himself dryly. ‘It’s a New Year.’

You nodded unsurely.

‘Time for a new, permanent contract I think.’ He shared a conspiratorial look with the others in the group.

You followed his gaze, catching the approving nod of Captain Rhodes.

A sudden rush of pride for your silly costume filled you. Your cheeks hurt trying not to smile too wide as you realised that you’d just been hired by Tony Stark personally.

Something about your rush of happiness turned your gaze back to Natasha like a magnet. 

She was sitting alone on one of the small sofas to the side of the VIP area. She was already looking at you, her expression soft.

Without thinking, you directed your smile at her. 

Natasha smiled back brightly and you noticed the way it made her eyes crinkle. She nodded at the space next to her and you found yourself shrugging off the harness that held your wings and handing the contraption to Colonel Rhodes.

You walked over to Natasha, leaving Tony and the others to continue their discussion.

Natasha’s gaze wandered along your bare arms, exposed without the clunkiest part of your costume. As you sat down, her arm slipped easily around your side. She felt warm pressed against you. You found yourself leaning into her touch. 

‘Having a good time?’ She asked you, like she couldn't tell already. 

‘I think tonight has been better than my whole year.’ You told her seriously and Natasha laughed. You swallowed an overwhelmed feeling. Her laugh was quieter than you expected but you felt it vibrate through you. You wished you could replay the sound forever.

‘It’s only ten minutes until midnight.’ Natasha said suddenly a moment later. You heard the question behind her words. You looked at her curiously. 

You wondered how she’d ended up here at this party without someone to kiss at midnight. 

Natasha looked away self consciously and you realised she could see the question in your eyes. 

You reached out, letting your fingers brush her wrist. 

‘I’d like to kiss you.’ You told her honestly and Natasha gave you a shy smile. 

‘Now or at midnight?’ She teased and her hand brushed your knee.

You felt so grateful for Natasha already. 

‘Let’s make it special.’ You decided. 

Natasha’s head tilted and you realised that she hadn’t expected your answer.

You shrugged nervously.

‘You’re special.’ You mumbled, feeling all of a sudden too much like a teenager at prom.

Natasha hummed a sceptical sound and you knew her disagreement wasn't another tease. You paused unsurely.

‘So, how was your year?’ You asked carefully. 

Natasha glanced away then. Her arm moved away from you as she reached for her drink and took a casual sip.

‘There were ups and downs.’ She answered after a moment.

.

Her tone was light but it made your heart sting.

‘Maybe next year will be better.’ You said, as you moved your hand to find her free one.

Your fingers tangled loosely together and you gave a light squeeze. Natasha looked down at your hands but she didn’t speak.

After a moment, she bumped her shoulder with yours.

‘Do you know what’s gonna happen at midnight?’ You asked, gesturing over to the packed dance floor that was only becoming more crowded as the New Year approached.

Natasha rolled her eyes.

‘You know the ball drop in Times Square?’ She asked. ‘Tony’s going to drop his own version. Except this one will look more like a meteor falling from the sky.’

.

There are few points in your life where a decision is crucial. This was one of those times.

You stood up, tugging at Natasha’s hand as you did.

She looked up at you curiously.

‘Dinosaurs don’t do well with meteors.’ You told her seriously. 

Surprise flickered over Natasha’s face but she let you lead her away.

.

The stairs to the rooftop took several minutes to climb. 

You both gasped when you opened the last door and stepped into the freezing night. Natasha huddled close to you as you stood huddled together, watching the dial of your watch count down the last minute.

You started counting aloud when there were ten seconds left until midnight. You rubbed Natasha's bare arms gently, trying uselessly to protect her from the snow that had started to fall.

When your countdown reached 8, Natasha started counting with you. Her green eyes held yours intently. 

When you reached 5, Natasha licked her lower lip and you swallowed nervously.

As you both said 3, you tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. Your fingers brushed her small braid. Your hand stayed by her face, cupping her cheek carefully. 

By the time you got to 2, you watched her nervous huff of breath like sudden fog in the cold air.

At 1, you leaned forward, and so did she.

As midnight arrived, you heard fireworks begin to pop across the city. You lost yourself in Natasha. You couldn't remember who you were before her lips had found yours.

Her fingers slipped into your hair as she encouraged you to kiss her again. She didn’t need to. You didn’t want to be anywhere else.

.

When you broke apart at last, there was a half beat where you weren’t sure what to do. 

‘Don’t laugh.’ Natasha told you seriously and you watched as she plucked the T-Rex arms from the front of her dress. You gave her a soft smile. You felt dazed, heavy with attraction and light with relief. 

In the first few seconds of the brand new year, you felt completely free.

You opened your arms when you realised Natasha’s intent. Natasha pressed herself against your chest and you wrapped your arms around her. The tip of her nose was ice cold when she buried it into the crook of your neck.

‘We’re the last two dinosaurs.’ She mumbled and her hot breath sent tingles down your spine.

‘We already survived the meteor.’ You smiled, arms tightening around her. 'It's going to be a good year.'