#until I decide I’m finally too old and accept my lot in life is to be a hermit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

she-karev · 2 months ago

Text

Finally Standing Up to Her Demons (Maya Bishop x Carina DeLuca Angst With a Happy Ending Imagine)

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: One of One

Fandom: Station 19

Ship: Maya Bishop x Carina DeLuca

Canon Episode: Between Season 6 Episode 17 and 18

AN: Happy International Women’s Day! I decided to write this quick little chapter featuring the strongest firefighter of Station 19, Maya Bishop. I wanted to explore more of her confronting her abusive father because I felt she let him off easy before her wedding. You don’t have to let the demons of your past win guys, as long as you stay strong and try to move forward you can thrive and gain more than what you were given.

Summary: Maya finally confronts her abusive father with her wife, Carina, by her side as well as Diana.

Words: 3549

April 12th, 2023

Carina DeLuca is finishing putting the last of her things from her suitcase back inside the chest drawers of the bedroom she missed sharing with her wife, Maya Bishop. A piece of her was holding back when trying to reconcile with her wife because she was afraid Maya would revert back to her old ways and sabotage their relationship again.

But when she heard that Maya declined the opportunity to be considered for captain of Station 19 it was all the proof, she needed on just how much her wife is willing to fight for them and her own self-care. It’s what Carina needed to hear to finally move back in with Maya. A loud slam stops her train of thought causing the Italian to exit the bedroom to see what the latest hurdle is.

Carina spots Maya in the kitchen getting kale out of the fridge and closing it with a lot of force too. A part of her worries her wife is back to self-destructing but a big part of her reminds herself that Maya has been working hard with Diane on overcoming her trauma and stop causing unnecessary chaos. The OB inhales deeply before cautiously approaching her wife who is chopping the kale very audibly angrily.

“Ciao Bambina.”

“Hi.” Maya responds tersely, focusing on the kale below her on the cutting board.

Carina sits in the stool in front of her wife watching her cautiously before asking carefully, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Maya says still angry chopping.

“Because you nearly closed every door off it’s hinges and your angry chopping which is a very alarming tell especially from you.”

“I’m just chopping.” Maya excuses still tense.

Carina persists however, knowing her wife needs to talk about what is angering her instead of bottling it up until it implodes. She stands up and places her hand on top of Maya’s hand that is chopping the green vegetable. Maya stops the motion as the soft and warm touch from her wife nearly extinguishes the flame inside the firefighter.

Maya inhales deeply and exhales before answering the first question, “I saw Diane today.”

“Okay did she say something to upset you?”

Maya puts the knife down on the cutting board afraid she will stab something if she continues to elaborate, “Not intentionally no…she suggested that I go see my father.”

Carina’s eyes widen at the mention of her emotionally abusive father that has barely been spoken of till now, “Is he sick?”

“No he’s still the same emotionally stunted, passive aggressive, egomaniac I was too blinded to see as a kid.” Maya informs her wife who is standing next to her looking at her with concern and love, “I told Diane about the last time I saw him before our wedding. How I came out to him, told him about you, our wedding and offering a place to my mom. I told her all of that and Diane asked if I ever told him how he made me feel growing up. About how he made me feel like I had to be the best at everything just for him to love me. How he basically brainwashed me to push everyone away because life is always a competition and everybody are obstacles. How I never knew what being accepted and loved was like until I came to 19 and met you. I told Diane I never told him any of that and you know what she suggested.”

Carina holds her hand understanding now, “That you go visit your emotionally abusive father and tell him off?”

“In more clinical words yeah.” Maya scoffs turning towards the counter to pour herself wine, “Diane asked if I actually moved past my father or just around him? If some part of me is still defining myself through him, through my insane need to please him.”

“Are you?” Carina asks gently out of concern, “I know it was hard for me to move past what my father did to me and Andrea. I imagine it’s harder for you given how much you idolized your father.”

Maya sighs feeling anguished at the part of her life she tried so hard to ignore, “I felt so stupid. I’m in a line of work where I think fast on my feet and use my brain in the most stressful environments you can imagine. And yet I couldn’t see what everybody and their mother saw when they met my dad. I couldn’t see he was just using me to get a taste of the glory he never had. I couldn’t see that my father loved me winning more than he loved me, if he ever did.”

Carina moves to wrap her arms around Maya’s waist pulling her back towards her chest. For a moment the women stand there with Maya closing her eyes to enjoy this moment of comfort from the woman who showed her there’s more to life than winning.

“You’re not stupid bambina.” Carina clarifies, “The only reason everyone else saw it was because they didn’t grow up in that house with him. They weren’t exposed to that kind of cruelty from birth and he didn’t shape them to please him as he saw fit. You were a product of that kind of life Maya, and you couldn’t help it any more than I could help how my father treated me.”

“I know that.” Maya states in torment, “It still doesn’t lessen the pain and making me question every moment of my childhood.”

Maya sips her wine before moving to continue chopping the kale this time more calmly. Carina sits back in her stool feeling more at ease than she was when Maya first walked in. She gives her wife a moment to chop the vegetable and package it before going back to the subject.

“Do you want to see him?”

Maya sighs as she takes the grass-fed steak out of the freezer, “Diane says that prolonged exposure therapy is very promising for victims of narcissistic parental abuse. She says that confronting the narcissistic abuser allows the patient to process distressing memories and emotions associated with their traumatic experiences. She says it will help me in a gradual way that feels safe and teaching me coping skills if I am ever triggered and ultimately, I will heal and my recovery will heighten.”

“And she wants you to visit your abusive father all by yourself?”

“No, Diane says she can come with me and step in if it’s too much for me.” Maya takes the steak out to season it, “But I don’t know if I should talk to him. I don’t know if it’s gonna heal me or it’s just gonna break me all over again. I don’t know what will happen if I see him.”

“No one does.” Carina supports knowing the feeling too well, “But we can’t tell the future. I can’t tell you if seeing him is what’s best for you or not my love, only you can decide that. Do you feel like there are things you need to say to him? Do you feel like telling him every horrible thing he’s done to you will is what you need? Do you feel like you can see him without ruining your progress?”

Maya thinks for a moment tapping her fingers against the counter, “…A part of me feels like I let him off easy the last time I saw him. And I’m afraid it’s because a part of me is still afraid of upsetting him. I feel like he still has a hold on me if I don’t tell him all the pain he caused me. I…I think maybe I need to see him and confront him and let him know what he did to me was not okay.”

Carina holds Maya’s hand across the counter, “If that’s what you need then I will support you every step of the way. In fact, I’ll come with you and Diane so it can be easier for you.”

“Are you afraid of what he’ll do to me?”

Carina grins, “More like you should be afraid of what I will do to him.”

Maya chuckles at her overprotective wife, pulling her in for a kiss needing all the support she needs before finally confronting the demon of her past.

The Next Morning

“I never thought I would walk up these steps again.” Maya proclaims to Dr. Diane Lewis and Carina as they walk up the stairs leading to the porch of her childhood home. The drive over was nerve wracking for Maya, and it’s increased with every step towards her father.

Carina holds Maya’s hand standing in front of the door, “We can turn around and leave if you want to Maya. You don’t have to do this.”

“She’s right.” Diane says in her therapist voice, “Exposure therapy isn’t for everyone and if you feel it’s not something you want or need, we can keep going the way we are. You’ve made so much progress Maya, and if you feel like this is a step to avoid then say the word and I will drive us back.”

Maya looks at her wife and therapist gratefully before coming to a decision, “…If I don’t do this now it’s just gonna eat at me and I’m not giving that man the satisfaction. It’s my choice and I refuse to let him scare me away.”

“I’m right here with you, my love.” Carina supports holding her hand tight with Maya returning the gesture before inhaling and exhaling. The blonde firefighter slowly lifts her closed fist and knocks on the door she used to know so well. The three women wait a moment before the door opens and Maya is face to face with a man who is a shadow of the arrogant egomaniac she saw three years ago.

Lane Bishop stands in the doorway looking worse for wear, as if the sins of his past have caught up with him. His usually brushed back blonde hair is in a disarray as if he just got out of bed. His once clean-shaven face is riddled with an uneven five o clock shadow and his eyes look tired and sunken as they stare shocked and wide eyed at his daughter. Maya is shocked by this messy man who used to be her father before remembering why she was here.

“Hi dad.”

“Kiddo.” Lane starts in shock before his contempt surfaces, “What the hell are you doing here? Your mom left thanks to you so I don’t know what else you’re here for unless your marrying another woman or you want to abandon your family again or-”

“Do us a favor.” Carina steps in with authority that stops Lane who turns to her surprised she interrupted him, “And shut up.”

Maya’s corner lip turns up in pride for her sweet wife who is vicious when someone messes with their family. Meanwhile, Lane is obviously pissed at someone calling him out as he narrows his eyes at the daughter in law he never met until today before turning his gaze back to his daughter who looks less afraid now that she sees her father has become as dissolute as he’s always been under the perfect dad appearance.

“Who the hell is this woman telling me to shut up while you stand there and do nothing as usual?”

“She’s my wife.” Maya exclaims proudly holding her hand while her dad’s frown falls at that information, “She’s the woman I told you I would marry three years ago and who is standing here supporting me while I say what I need to say to you.”

“And who’s this other woman?” Lane asks in contempt at the former firefighter turned therapist, “Someone else who turned you against me?”

“She’s my therapist.”

Lane scoffs dismissively, “You have a shrink?”

“Yes.” Maya responds unashamed, “Because I was close to throwing away everything I hold dear in this life because you taught me to if I wanted to be number one. Because I almost died from a condition from working out too much with no breaks from the way you trained me. Because I finally saw the damage you did to me I needed to fix unless I wanted to end up like you. Alone and blaming everyone else for your own mistakes.”

Lane chuckles in malice at this, “Oh god you sound just like your mother. I never hit her and I never hit you or your brother. You make me out to be this bad guy when all I ever did was make you a winner. I taught you what you needed to know kiddo. All those medals, your captaincy before you stupidly lost it, that was all because of me.”

“No that was me!” Maya proclaims not out of anger but out of fact, “I ran track, I won the gold, I became a firefighter, I became captain, I did all of that all you did was bring me down when I lost and I rose above it all on my own. I won despite you constantly making me feel like I was nothing if I didn’t win your love.”

“That is not true.” Lane tries to excuse himself.

“That is completely true!” Maya continues to hold Carina’s hand as she unloads her trauma on the main source, “You have made me feel that way since I was three years old when you hated my cousin the second she stopped winning. It was at that moment that I decided I would never lose. It was that moment that I decided to always win so I would always be worthy of your love.”

“I never gave you that impression.” Lane says deluded causing Carina to scoff at him, “You’re letting your mother and everyone else making you think that when all I have done is love you and support you!”

“Until I lost.” Maya reminds Lane who narrows his eyes confused, “Do you remember when I was 14 and running track? It was the semifinals, and I was in the lead, you were cheering for me on the stands I felt loved in that moment like you were proud of me. And then my friend twisted her ankle, and I stopped to check on her. She told me to keep going and I did, I was able to win second place…but to you I might as well have not raced at all. I remember the look you had when I got the silver do you remember?”

Lane shakes his head at her rolling his eyes at this recap, “Let me refresh your memory, you had this look like you hated me, like I was a failure, like I wasn’t worthy of your love. And you made that clear that night when you punished me with no dinner for helping a friend, for thinking of something other than winning for once. You told me that there are no friends on the track only competition and I have had that state of mind until this kind and beautiful woman that I married showed me there’s more to life than that. I have learned that winning isn’t everything and love from a parent is not something to earn, it’s something given freely no matter what. God there was a time I didn’t want kids because I was afraid, I would do to them what you did to me and Mason but now I know better. I know that no matter what happens, no matter how many times they win or lose I will love my kids and make sure they know it. I know that I don’t need you to love me because you are incapable of it.”

“Is this why you came?” Lane asks in disdain, “To tell me what a horrible father you think I am? Let me tell you something sweetheart, you wouldn’t be where you are without me. And maybe I was a little rough on you and your brother but-”

“A little?” Carina asks out of shock, “You threw things at walls, belittled your children, gaslit them to the point of a breakdown and made all of their accomplishments and failures about you. And because of that your son became a drug addict and your daughter almost died from the training you made her do. My father wasn’t perfect he was probably as bad as you were, but he had a mental illness, he couldn’t help his behavior most of the time. But you…you were just a power-hungry narcissist who saw his children as a way to fame and glory. You think that had no effect on your son and daughter then you deserve to die alone.”

Lane moves to push Carina when Maya stops him with a hand against his chest pushing him back. He stands back, shocked she would use physical violence against him never expecting her to retaliate back.

Maya stands there tall and ready to fight, “One finger on her and I will bend it backwards.”

Lane looks at his daughter with such anger it takes Maya back to her childhood. However, she perseveres and remembers he has no power over her anymore.

“I came here because I needed you to know once and for all that what you did to me was not okay.” Maya states to her father who looks sullen instead of angry now, “It was not okay to make me feel like I had to earn your love. It was not okay to make me feel like I was worth less if I lost. You may not have hit me dad but what you did was so much worse because for so long I felt like I was nothing without your love or your acknowledgement. I felt like nothing mattered except winning when everything that matters is right next to me.”

Maya squeezes her wife’s hand who grins in pride over Maya finally putting her demons to bed after so long.

“There was a battle I was losing for so long and it wasn’t on the track or in the firehouse. It was a battle against you.” Lane looks taken back by this as Maya continues, “I let you win by giving you the satisfaction of relishing in my victories that were mine but no more. Everything I do from now on will be for me not you. So, if you hear about my accomplishments and feel pride in yourself don’t. Those are my accomplishments not yours; I was brave enough to do those things not you. You will never bask in my victories again because you lost this battle dad. I am gonna leave here and try to be the best firefighter I can be while keeping the people I love close to celebrate with. Meanwhile you’ll be here alone with no one to love you and no one to make yourself feel bigger than you actually are. Those days are over just like our relationship.”

Lane looks numbed at this proclamation of his daughters that takes his down a peg and makes him feel smaller than he has ever felt. Maya grins slightly at this finally achieving her goal before finishing.

“I won and you lost.” Carina squeezes Maya’s hand feeling proud of her, “Goodbye dad.”

Maya closes the door on her father who stands there too numb to respond. She turns to walk away with her wife by her side holding her hand hoping this is exactly what Maya needed to finally heal.

That Night

Carina sets a cup of tea in front of Maya who is sitting at the table still reeling from this morning. After Diane made sure Maya was okay after her confrontation with her father she left the couple alone with Carina giving her wife space to process before pressing. She can see it’s okay to ask seeing as Maya is calmly sipping her tea with Carina joining her.

“Are you okay?” Carina asks, “I know it couldn’t have been easy seeing him and telling him all of those things.”

Maya exhales at that exhausted, “You are not wrong. It was hard at first and a part of me was afraid he would make me cower again. But I’m really glad I did it and I finally feel…free. I finally feel like he no longer has a hold on me. Thanks to you.”

“No that was all you bambina.” Carina corrects her wife holding her hand, “I am not gonna take credit like your father. You finally put your father in his place, and I am so proud of you. But you wouldn’t be less than the brave and strong woman I fell in love with. And you were right when you told him you would be a better parent than he was. It’s what I’ve always known and I am so glad you know it too. I know that no matter what you will be a better person than he ever was. I love you so much Maya Kathleen Bishop.”

Maya grins at her wife feeling the love she has been deprived of most of her life, “And I love you, Carina DeLuca.”

Maya and Carina kiss feeling free of the torment of their past and looking forward to a brighter future.

11 notes · View notes

lincolndjarin · 2 years ago

Text

The Dragonfly & The Moon

main masterlist ✧ kinktober masterlist ✦

kinktober : day nine - afab!witch!reader x joel miller

prompt : blood drinking [ 18+ mdni ]

word count : 1.9k

summary : you and joel decide to take the next step in your relationship.

warnings, etc. : language, knives, cutting, ritualistic sex, religious symbols, blood, consensual violence, blood drinking (surprise surprise), gore, sort of body horror i suppose, premature ejaculation, and i used the middle name i head canon for joel whoops

a/n : hello my lovelies, i just finished this up before work i hope y'all enjoy this silly little story

“And you’re absolutely sure you’re okay with this?” You set each blade down in front of him, letting him watch as you soak each one in alcohol. He’s sitting up on the table, knees bent, elbows resting on his thighs.

“I did say I wanted to participate in your hobbies more.” He keeps his eyes on each one, you know he’s nervous despite the act he’s putting on but you just want him to be comfortable.

“This is a bit more than a hobby.” You set the final blade down on the cloth, walking around the table to take his hand in yours.

“I really want to, I promise.” He murmurs before bringing your hand to his face, placing a kiss to your palm.

He’s wanted to get married for ages now but you’ve been reluctant. It’s not that you don’t love him, of course you do, you’re just so… different. He’s a traditional man. He wants the wedding and the house with a white picket fence and the kids and the growing old together on a porch swing, and you want to live in the woods and sacrifice virgins to your dark lord.

But hey, opposites attract. (At least that’s what he says every time you try to have this conversation.)

And while he isn’t fond of your so-called hobbies, he’s been understanding. (Although it took a lot of convincing. He refused to believe you until you cut your own hand off and walked it across the table to him before promptly reattaching it.)

So when he got down on one knee you couldn’t say yes. Since then he’s been adamant that he be more involved in your life, desperate to prove that this could work.

Initially you’d told him you were busy tonight, your lord required an act of depravity as sacrifice and he’d been all too eager to offer to help.

He looks less eager now that he’s face to face with several of your blades.

“You really don’t have to do this-“

“I’m doing this. End of story.” You arch an eyebrow at his stern tone but nod.

“Okay. Take off your shirt.” You pick up the cloth with your knives on it, moving it to the counter as he unbuttons his denim top. He tosses it onto the chair as you light a few more candles around the room before lifting your sweater over your head and throwing it on top of his shirt, turning to him in just your bra and skirt. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” He mumbles as you pick through the knives before settling on your favorite, a double edged small blade, the handle is shaped like a dragonfly.

“You have to pick one.” You turn so he can see the selection.

“I’ll take the one on the far left.” He nods in its direction as you take it by the blade, holding it out to him. You’re a bit surprised by his pick as you watch him examine the boline knife, tracing the curve with his finger before setting it on the table next to him.

You whisper a quiet prayer to yourself in latin, praying not just to your god to accept this sacrifice, but also to make this easier on your partner. You can think of several occasions where he had chosen to be especially cruel and a small part of you is aware of just how dangerous this situation is for Joel but you push that down, ignoring it.

You put the blade between your teeth, holding it in place as you climb up onto the table, straddling his lap before putting your hands on his chest, pushing him down flat onto the cold wood. You look down at him one last time, looking for any signs of resistance, when you see only determination in his eyes you whisper one last prayer before letting your own eyes roll back, feeling something darker course through your veins as it takes over. Your vision is clouded when you look back down at him and you know all he sees from them is white. You tenderly take the knife from between your teeth, spinning it in your hand.

“Still good?” This time when you mumble you’re vaguely aware of the fact that your voice is being layered with another, much deeper voice, his eyebrows shoot up in confusion but he just nods.

No reason to put this off any longer, you take his hand, entwining your fingers and lifting his arm up. You take the blade, gently drawing it across the side of his forearm, making an incision about four inches in length, watching as the thin line of red appears in its wake. You see his jaw tense but he doesn’t flinch. He gasps as you lean forward, dragging your tongue across the wound. You let out a shuddering moan as the sweet metallic tang coats your tongue.

You went over the ritual in great detail with him beforehand. You explained everything you would be doing and everything that would be expected of him but his eyes still wide with surprise as you begin to lick his wound, not wanting to waste any of him, you feel the bitter, sweet liquid settling in your stomach, sending a flood of warmth through you.

You try not to be too loud but when you’re in this state your inhibitions are lowered, he tastes like heaven and you can’t contain yourself as you raise your blade once more, slicing him horizontally, making a cross on his skin. You watch the crimson bloom as you hold him still. The sight of it makes your pussy ache as you lean forward, lapping at the bleeding cross as you subconsciously grind your hips against his.

In a moment of weakness you bend down, biting his shoulder hard enough to pierce his skin, sucking in harshly as you drink him in.

“Christ…” He mumbles, gripping your waist as you recoil.

“Fuck-“ You hiss. “Don’t say that, it makes you go sour.” You wipe the excess gore from your mouth on the back of your hand as he gives you an embarrassed smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize.” You watch how the blood rushes to his face, his cheeks flushing a divine shade of red. You can’t help it when you tangle your fingers in his hair to hold him in place, you aren’t in control anymore. You’re extremely precise in your movements as you carve a rune into the sun kissed skin of his cheek, careful not to go deep enough to scar. Once you’re pleased with your work you let out a content sigh before flattening your tongue against it. Thanks to the quick incantation he’s gone sweet again, an almost bitter sweetness that overwhelms your senses. “Jus’ a little more.” You mumble in your intoxicated state as you languidly drag the shimmering blade down the center of his chest.

He inhales sharply once but when he realizes you aren’t applying any pressure he relaxes some. Much to your delight you feel a stirring beneath you, you angle your hips instinctually to rest your throbbing cunt against the substantial bulge forming in his pants.

“Joel Arthur Miller, are you actually getting off on this?” He doesn’t respond, simply blushing harder as you scorn him with a breathy laugh, raising your knife again you press it into the soft flesh of his chest, tracing patterns into the salt and peppered hairs sprinkled across his sternum before finally digging the blade into the meat of his pectoral, a spray of blood gushing up at you. Your face is flecked with gore as your mouth falls open to eagerly lap up the rosy ichor, you feel the distinct sensation of his cock straining and twitching in his jeans as you do so, an orgasm fully driven by the pleasure you derive from the vulgarity of the act your performing is forming in your belly.

As cold and unforgiving as your patron is, he has been known to be generous to his long term subjects, you know he’ll push you over the edge just like this if you’d like.

And he does. Your teeth sink into the flesh surrounding the wound still spouting blood as you come undone with a snarl, your hips feverish and frantic as you grind against him, the force of your bite drawing more blood. The sensations swelling and filling your entire being consume you one last time as you sharply suck in, a rush of fresh blood flows into your maw and you hungrily drink it all in before finally sitting up with a satisfied look on your face, you chin coated in gore as your eyes return to their usual state.

“Are you okay?” Your voice has returned to normal now as you search his eyes for a sign that this crossed a line but you never find it.

Joel still doesn’t speak, he merely stares at you in awe, nodding.

“Your turn.” Your voice echoes throughout the house as he sits up, keeping you firmly in his lap as he grabs his chosen knife, bringing it between the two of you. “Remember, you can do it anywhere.” You murmur, anxious to feel the cool steel against you. He slides the curved blade down your sternum, hooking it on your bra.

“And I only have to drink a little for your spell, right?” His voice is quiet, he sounds positively enamored with you as his nearly black eyes stare into yours.

“You only have to drink a drop if that’s what you want.” You cradle his face in your hands, he draws a hushed gasp from you as he slices through the center clasp of your bra, letting it fall before tossing it to the floor. He’s far more delicate than you were, opting to not pierce your flesh just yet. Instead he just traces little shapes into the curves and valleys of your chest. You bite back a moan as he runs the blade along the outline of your nipple before finally drawing blood on your shoulder.

One clean horizontal line, only an inch deep but six inches in length, the moment he’s made the incision he tosses his own blade aside, latching onto you. His hips stutter and his tongue traces the gash wildly and with a fervor you’ve never seen from him before. He isn’t deterred in the slightest by the fact that your blood runs a crimson so dark it basically runs a shimmering black, he just drinks, lewd slurping sounds fill the kitchen followed by an inhumane groan from your partner and in an abrupt instant a soft howl fills the space and the candles go out, both of you freezing in place.

“Shit, I guess we did it?” You sit up a bit, feeling a little confused as you light a small flame in your palm. “That usually doesn’t happen until the ritual’s done…” You furrow your brows as you look at him in the flickering light, a sheepish expression on his face before it clicks for you. “Wait, did you-”

“Sorry.” He mumbles, you reach down between the two of you and sure enough the front of his pants are soaked in a warm dampness, his cock now soft.

“You are just full of surprises, aren’t you?” You can’t help but grin as you lean forward, kissing the bridge of his nose.

Maybe opposites do attract.

a/n : happy oct 9th :)

#lincolndjarin #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel tlou #tlou joel #joel the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #the last of us #fan fiction

100 notes · View notes

moreteethplease · 5 months ago

Text

> Play it here!

There's a ghost that lives inside my piano. It hasn't always been there, but I'm not sure when it moved in. Can a narrative be haunted by an object? Mine may be.

The Ghost That Lives Inside My Piano is a short autobiographical tale about chronic pain and dead dreams, made in bitsy for bitsy jam #86: better late than never. Devlog (and spoilers) under the cut.

Art

Due to a lack of time and energy, I opted to use nothing but images converted by pixsy for this jam. I took pictures of my piano, parts of my face and hands, and even my spouse’s hand at one point. I wanted to have all the images (except blank screens) be nothing but converted images for consistent style, even if they were not super clear in pixel form. It’s something I’ve seen a lot of bitsy creators do, and I’ve never done it before, so I was excited!

Ironically, there is one that I had to use a stock image for: the bold double bar line. I wanted to get a close up picture of one from a book of sheet music, but I forgot, and by the time I remembered I was out of energy. This seems fitting, somehow, for the theme of the game.

Anyway, aside from that one stock image, everything else is a photo of myself, my partner, or a part of the piano. Here are some that I think were quite interesting:

One of my fears with this is that 35 rooms in bitsy is far too much for a standard art game. I included so many because I partially wanted to capture the slow, tedious, painful process of chronic pain robbing you of your hobbies until you have to put them down forever (and the game ends). Hopefully I managed that without making it unplayable.

As an additional note, I took more time than usual choosing a cover image for the game. The one I ultimately chose (with the help of a unanimous vote from my friends) is art of the hammers inside the piano. These are the rejects (including a variation of the chosen cover):

Writing and Meaning

This story is autobiographical. Well, the ghost isn’t real, of course. But if you consider it a metaphor instead of a literal ghost, then I suppose it is real.

The idea for this bitsy jam entry first came to me in the shower, when I was thinking about haunted narratives. My brain began running with the mental image of a literal haunted narrative and going to silly places, as brains are wont to do. I imagined a ghost haunting the books on my bookshelf, or the files in my filing cabinet, or the sheet music inside my piano bench. This led to me imagining a ghost haunting my piano, which I thought was a fantastic idea to make something with, and I began to work on the script.

But that script took on a life of its own as I wrote, as scripts are wont to do. I slowly realized that my piano was already haunted, and it was a part of my haunted narrative. I was 8 years old when I decided that I wanted to be a pianist in an orchestra when I grew up, and I was 13 when chronic pain ripped that dream away from me permanently. I pretended it hadn’t, for a while, and I continued to play complex pieces even when my hands begged for reprieve with every press of a note. At 17, as the pain grew worse with each passing month and doctors continued to question if I was faking it for attention, I finally accepted that my dream was dead, and I stopped playing piano seriously for good. If I did actually have that whole “Midas touch” thing that I mention in the game, well, I sure don’t have it now. (Sorry, Teacher Katrina.)

This isn’t a sob story; I’m quite at peace with all of that now. I write, edit, code, and design for a living, which means I still get to do what I love every day and earn money for it, and I do it on my own time. I appreciate all the ups and downs that come with that and honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. And I do still play the piano! I will never abandon the art form; I love it too much! But I do miss playing the piano the way I used to. And sometimes when I struggle to play even a portion of a piece that I played effortlessly at 12 years old, I see that ghost lying across the piano, freezing my joints in place, its dead stare fixed on mine.

Thank you for reading this far. If you’d like to play the game, you can check it out here:

#devlog #bitsy #indiegamedev #indie game #indie dev

9 notes · View notes

pshattuck · 2 years ago

Text

Hello everyone so this is going to be a pretty big blog about the upcoming future of my life as a artist. So to try to shave off some time I will be copying and pasting the Twitter thread I made to here.

Startiiiing now:

“Hey everyone I got another update for you and it’s probably gonna sound like “she’s changing shit again” but I feel like a lot has been going on in my life and a lot of it is changing too and I think I discovered something about me and my artwork that I feel like is important.

The reason I started pumping out content before this new job I got was well after I lost my old caregiving job YouTube and commissions were my only source of income for the last 6 month and I honestly was making enough for bills at that point it was my family keeping me afloat.

So yeah, life was not kind to me and I got.. well extremely depressed. I kept applying and no one was accepted them the one job I wanted I did not get and I was lucky to just get by. My brain all the time for the past few months kept saying I was a failure Until I got lucky.

I just got done with shadowing and orientation and I’m now officially working at a job that yeah can be stressful but I fully enjoy. I’m feeling happy and I’m finally healing from this dark cloud that’s following me. And with this month coming to an end I realized something.

Growing up my art was the one thing that kept me happy it was my happiness from real life issues and it got me to meet the love of my life along with great people in online community’s. However, the more it became a stressor to live off my art… the less it made me happy.

Not to mention the reason I shared my art to begin with because even if it was cringe or my art was not the best in the past … I always loved to see people enjoy it. It killed me to ask people to give me money to draw for them. It’s just not me.

I allowed a online algorithm, and a few words from a small handful of people to make me second guess what I loved to do, I allowed money to make me decide what I should work on…I realized I secretly hated myself for it.

This new opportunity in my life is why I’m writing what I am today and it’s my own choices and it’s one I’m actually happy with.

Everything I draw will be free to view I’m going to build it up on Tapas and Tumblr just for the multiple image support plus they have better age restriction on there platforms because I’m a adult and do want to dabble in NSFW stuff.

The one animation I have on sale in my store I will be making it free to view. For the amazing person who did buy the pack I will be dming them so once my paycheck comes, they will be refunded.

And now for the big thing.

The next few months I will be saving my own money and working on Concept Art for the next few months along with working on comics because by next year I want to work and pay people to help me bring my comics to life as animated projects.

The first project will more then likely be Jackie’s Everyday Adventure because it has the least amount of characters and backgrounds and will dabble in the form of 3D animation. This will be a strictly animated series with some rewrites from the original comic version.

Homebrew… is honestly the biggest project since there is over 30 chapters and I’m not even halfway done writing scripts. I won’t Even considering working on animating that until at least chapter 10 is out.

Everything else will be explained over on Tumblr that will be where I blog about my projects since there’s not as tiny of a character limit on there. Thank you all for reading this and I will link the full update on Tumblr and I will share a link to it on here.”

And now here we are on Tumblr!

The only thing I will be keeping for any financial support will be Ko-fi but that’s only if people want to, I’m not going to have anything locked behind a pay wall.

Commissions will no longer be open because I will just be doing art trades or request. Since my new job is full time I don’t need to worry about the stress of not finishing something quickly.

Physical print books are still gonna be a thing however not for a long while. Since my old client liked my original books ill be printing a small handful of copies of them so I can give them to her to read at the nursing home. And leftover copies will be for contest prizes.

YouTube on the other hand… I’m going to be honest I’m not sure if I truly will bring back Pshattuckproductions. The most fun I have had with YouTube was building up lunar comics. I will honestly be focusing on that channel in terms of any uploads.

So far this is all for now. So see you soon everyone.

#comics #art #deepinhomebrew #pshattuck #comic

20 notes · View notes

luxurybrownbarbie · 1 year ago

Note

Hey Barbie,

I’ve been official with my boyfriend for nearly a year and we dated for a year before that. I spent last year studying in the US and he asked me out when I came home for Christmas. I said yes because I thought why not and he flew over to visit me in March too.

He comes from a very well-off family and has a year and a half left until he qualifies as a doctor. I’ve always worked my ass off to make money, but haven’t been able to get a job alongside my studies yet. I also come from a background where I can’t just ask for financial help or support.

My issue is just that before we were on the same page about so many things like tidiness, dates, career goals, and I’ve always been vocal about what I expect from a partner. But now that I’m back and we’re spending a lot of time together, he has just not been meeting my needs. Like before he would offer to get an Uber or buy me food and now he’ll look at me when we go shopping because he doesn’t want to pay the bill. I literally have to drag him to do it, and it’s giving me the biggest ick.

I don’t think these are big things either because I’ll take him on trips and pay for it (not food I refuse), but these small things mean everything to me because I rarely ask for big things. He is super sweet, has a photographic memory, and I know that he loves me but I feel so caged in. We also went on a break for a week last month, and I felt great for the time alone, but he literally barely left his apartment.

I decided to give it another try because he said he would work on the boundaries issues that led to the break. I’m just at this point where I’m 22, in my final year, and I just don’t know what to do. Do you have any advice?

Sorry for the super long ask, and thanks for reading lovely! ❤️

You are in bondage sister, omg! You are only 22 years old, you need to leave him!

You’re not imagining things, you’re not wrong. You’re feeling caged in because you are.

How is he super sweet? Nothing you’ve said gives me that inclination whatsoever.

He is actively making your life more difficult. If you are struggling for money, why are you spending it on trips for him? It’s about equity. You should not have to judge or force him to take care of bills on nights out or get you an Uber.

He’s not going to change.

He’s got a vibrant, smart, beautiful 22 year old he gets to suck the life and youth out of! Why would he ever change? You complain, but he knows he will eventually be able to get you to just accept his shortcomings as long as he promises to “work on them”.

He stopped trying after you were fully committed to him. (Not your fault, tale as old as time.) He’s moved into outright apathy. Ubers and food are literally the barest of bare minimums, this is just pure stinginess.

Don’t try to figure out why you should leave. You’ll gaslight yourself into thinking you’re overreacting. Figure out why you would want to stay.

Because from here, it reads like you're hoping he'll go back to being the person he was before (he won't!), or you're hoping that the love you have will see you through (it won’t).

You’re young. You should be having fun and enjoying dating, not dragging along a useless man who is actively making your life more difficult. It’s okay to leave. Don’t try to avoid the heartbreak just for the sake of it. Go start enjoying dating.

#answered #.

13 notes · View notes

soul-dwelling · 10 months ago

Note

The one "positive" from MHA is... That it made me apreciate SE in comparison lol, hell even the mangas awful copout ending atleast was memorable in how bad, disgusting and rushed it was - in MHA it just feels like nothing, not even giving us those rushed redemptions - nah even that is too much for Hori, so lets just give the old "dead equals redemption" trope which is as lazy as it is cowardly - atleast Crona got the hope of getting bailed out of jail, and the society actually changed, even if unrealistically, with the witches truce - while in MHA the whole buildup of "maybe this society is bad, maybe heros shouldnt be worshiped, maybe civilians should not be infantalized and depowered and shouldnt just rely on fascists supercops when they literally have their own powers, maybe the villians should be integrated and understood...."- nah, they are all evil psychos, lets stigmatize mentall ilness as being violent...

It really was reduced to "one evil baby is at fault, so if we use our flashy moves and kill it, everything will go back to normal" - but no Hori then trys to have his cake and eat it too by trying to force the whole meta "actually live doesnt return to normal after a war!" - but it kinda does, besides the Endeavour misery porn which doesnt work after he got retconed to not be evil - because that is what happened and why it does feel weird when Natsou disowns him - because that would have worked with the og Endevour, showing that a redemption arc isn't enough and some scars will never heal and he has to accept it and repent for the rest of his life - but after it getting changed that Toya was unhinged from the start and Endy was just kinda bad at communicating...

Man I ranted a lot longer than I thought, apologys for that, MHA is just so bad that it happens

I debated whether to post this now or wait until Chapter 426 of My Hero Academia comes out on Sunday, given how many spoilers there are in my answer and in the question itself.

But I would rather get the answer out now instead of letting it fester, especially as I’m guessing this will not be the last time I respond to this chapter, this extended epilogue to the manga, and how the beginning, middle, and end of My Hero Academia worked and didn’t work.

So, screw it, here is my response, and I hope the spoiler tags are enough to prevent people from learning something they weren’t ready to read until Sunday.

The ending, ongoing

A friend of mine had written something similar: it feels like My Hero Academia is ending with a whimper.

The thing is, I have been struggling lately with whether I want something to be ambitious and fail at its own goals, or competent but cliche.

You bring up how Soul Eater had a memorable ending even if it was, let’s be charitable, flawed. I’m not sure I agree, as Soul Eater’s ending was so bad that it’s hard for me to see MHA somehow having a worse ending. You’d need to resurrect Midnight just for a fanservice gag to get things as bad as Soul Eater’s ending.

The comparison I’m grabbing is actually to Fire Force, as it does something similar to MHA: the final battle ends in glorious fashion, then the epilogue we’re dealing with is rushed, unsatisfying, contradicts earlier character beats, and re-stages the setting in a way that is bothersome (Fire Force is revealed to be the Soul Eater prequel no one was asking for; My Hero Academia should be showing life after near global destruction, or at least the destruction of most of Japan, and instead Cementoss is already rebuilding entire cities, so the stakes have evaporated--even if, I’ll admit, once you introduce a character who can do almost anything, that’d be pretty stupid to not have that character still out there single-handedly saving the entire world *cough cough* why is Yosano only with the Agency if she could be healing people of cancer throughout Japan in Bungo Stray Dogs *cough cough*).

Ambitious or Competent?

But to go back to what I said, that I struggle to decide whether I want a story that is ambitious or competent, it’s kind of how I feel comparing Chainsaw Man and Dandadan: I really cannot stand the storytelling direction of the former even as I have to admit it is more audacious and trying to say something really complicated even if I think it is failing at getting that message through to its audience, while the latter in terms of plot, character progression, paneling, character designs, humor, pathos, and dynamic artwork and action is all or mostly expertly crafted but not necessarily groundbreaking (minus the stunning artwork and two-page spreads).

And even then, Dandadan doesn’t get it always correct, where a potentially thought-provoking detail is reduced to a cliche, and often an offensive one at that: the latest chapter as of writing, Chapter 158, takes a complicated idea about mourning the failure to live the dream of a childhood friend…and instead of using that to talk about hyper-sexualization within idol culture and maybe even the magical girl genre, it’s just a really bad joke of an underage girl forced against her will into a revealing outfit to put on a show she does not want to put on but is coerced into doing, and, oh, to keep the author’s exposure kink going, we got to make her a (forgive the insulting phrase) “mousy” girl with pigtails, glasses, and a more reserved personality so that the readers can also enjoy the author’s kink--gross, fuck this shit.

So, do I want My Hero Academia to be competently done even if the ending is cliche, or do I want it to be ambitious even if it can’t quite reach those lofty goals and still ends up with a deflating ending or a confused final message it is trying to give to the audience?

I’ve said before that Shoto Todoroki may work better as the protagonist of his own story. With that idea in mind, and based on your remarks, is it possible that Horikoshi had a very ambitious idea in mind--the tragedy that Endeavor and Dabi both got what they wanted, and the cost ended up making what they got a punishment rather than a victory--but that the kind of story Horikoshi is writing was not suitable for that tale?

I really hate that argument I am proposing, because it makes it sound like the problems are the circumstances of genre (superheroes), demographics (shonen), and the publishing industry (weekly release schedule, etc) that hampered Horikoshi, when the more likely answer is either that Horikoshi just isn’t that good at writing that kind of a story, or that it was never that kind of story he was interested in, or that he succeeded in the story he wanted to tell and I just don’t like the execution or even the message itself.

Too Many Characters?

A common complaint I read online is that My Hero Academia suffers because it has too many characters. I have never been convinced by that argument.

MHA is like a good Pixar film: there is always some group of misfits in the background serving as comedic relief but who also have their own narrative path through the story, whether it is to give those misfits their own path for character progression or, as is more often the case, just a path to show what their characterization has been this whole time.

Think of Gurgle in Finding Nemo when one of his last scenes in the movie is yelling at the Aqua Scum: that’s not showing his character progression, that’s clarifying what his characterization has been this entire time--he is indeed concerned about cleanliness, but even when the Aqua Scum gives him what he has always wanted, that being an absolutely clean tank, he is not overjoyed but horrified because it ruins his buddies’ plans to save Nemo. Gurgle’s characterization was never cleanliness above everything else; his characterization was he wants cleanliness _and_ to keep protecting his friends. That moment is more ironic than anything, as well as the start of his plot, that being, how is he going to save Nemo and fight against the very thing he has always wanted…only that plot never actually starts or reaches a conclusion because the title of the movie if Finding Nemo and other characters such as Gill are the actual protagonists or at least supporting characters that instigate the plot and progress along the way.

That is my long rant about why I don’t really care that Sero and others have limited character moments in this final arc, and why I think it’s silly to say that there are too many characters for Horikoshi to satisfy for all of them.

That being said, that doesn’t mean I don’t think he dropped the ball--because I think he did when it comes to the Todoroki family drama.

Natsu as Audience Surrogate

As I said before, I am struggling to separate my thoughts from just whatever was the last thing I read online. But I can’t ignore what I think people in the Reddit thread got correct, that the final arc centers on Endeavor when the audience also wants the ending to center on Dabi, Shoto, and the rest of their family. It should have been enough to gesture at just enough of Natsu’s education, career, and dating life to give a sense of full characterization--and instead he ends the story still striking me as an accumulation of grievances against Endeavor, and it rings hollow rather than making Natsu our audience surrogate, someone we identify with and agree with and hence can characterize ourselves.

I don’t know--would it have been better to lend less background information to Natsu to make him a better audience avatar? Should he be like a Fire Emblem protagonist or the OC you create in Sonic Forces, just bland enough that you can place yourself in their shoes? I don’t think that’d work either; it’d just make Natsu into a dull protagonist like someone out of a crappy isekai. But at least I’m trying to figure out what went wrong and how to improve on what is already in the story without re-plotting and completely contradicting the messages Horikoshi is trying to deliver.

Move Up Dabi’s Confrontation with His Siblings

As I have also said, maybe I would have enjoyed parts of this final arc if they were not forced into the end of the story, which would mean moving them up to earlier in the story. This again is based on something elliotthezubat and I have been plotting as ideas about how My Hero Academia could have gone, but one idea I had discussed was having Dabi confronting Natsu and Fuyumi earlier and on their own. Between when Dabi puts out the video and when the final war starts, why not have a scene of Dabi sneaking up on Natsu and Fuyumi to confront them?

I know that does not sound realistic, or even believable--I’ll address why that can still work, however, in a moment.

And it disrupts the intended forcefulness of forcing all of the confrontation into one moment of the family trying to freeze Dabi together. But that is my point, forcing all of it at once undermines a lot of the more nuanced details you can pull from the complexities of the sibling relationship. It also would actually let Natsu and Fuyumi say something more meaningful than just repeating what Endeavor and Rei were already yelling at Dabi when trying to kill or freeze him, and it would address what is a repeated complaint in the Reddit thread, that Natsu and Fuyumi say next to nothing to Dabi when they actually face him at the hospital.

As for why this would still work even if it doesn’t seem initially to be that realistic or believable: we already saw Dabi sneaking around to find Toga to deliver Twice’s blood. It is in keeping with his methods and skills that of course he could find some way to get to Natsu and Fuyumi when they are alone. “But aren’t they at the UA fortress?” Then write a way for them to not yet have arrived there; it can’t be any dumber than how they all happened to show up right where Dabi and Endeavor are fighting in the climax.

Make This an Actual War Arc

Having Dabi track and confront Natsu and Fuyumi earlier has the added benefit of making your war arc into an actual war arc. I have complained repeatedly online that the wars in My Hero Academia don’t feel like wars, they feel like one big battle that constitutes the entirety of the so-called war. Wars consist of numerous battles, not just one big battle--and I don’t think MHA did a good job making this all feel like a series of battles leading to anything. It got better when it was Izuku and the Pros finding AFO’s base only to get the video message--that kind of covert work shows greater dimensions of a war beyond just fistfights and explosions.

And that’s why Dabi on his own looking for Natsu and Fuyumi would suit this war arc: it’s a quieter moment of surveillance and covert work, not a major battle.

One thing I never appreciated enough in the Season 1 finale of Justice League was how the World War II scenes are broken up into the various dimensions of war: Green Lantern on the ground with the infantry, Supes and Hawkgirl in aerial combat, but also J’onn and Wonder Woman on their own covert spy missions.

MHA didn’t have enough of the covert spy stuff during the war arc, I anticipate because Horikoshi covered a lot of that before the war kicked off with Hawks infiltrating the PLF. But to not persist with that tone and style of warfare is a missed opportunity and hurts the pace and intensity of the war: we need those quieter moments that a spy story can provide against all the explosions and physical battles.

And it is a good spot where to stage Dabi, Natsu, and Fuyumi airing their grievances now so that we get where they come from in the final confrontations, rather than forcing all of it with limited page space, time, and dialogue to get at how the relationships between them have changed since Toya “died” and since Dabi’s video.

Does Anything in Society Change?

I’m going to quote part of the initial question:

“not even giving us those rushed redemptions - nah even that is too much for Hori, so lets just give the old ‘dead equals redemption’ trope which is as lazy as it is cowardly - atleast Crona got the hope of getting bailed out of jail, and the society actually changed, even if unrealistically, with the witches truce - while in MHA the whole buildup of ‘maybe this society is bad, maybe heros shouldnt be worshiped, maybe civilians should not be infantalized and depowered and shouldnt just rely on fascists supercops when they literally have their own powers, maybe the villians should be integrated and understood....’- nah, they are all evil psychos, lets stigmatize mentall ilness as being violent…”

There is a lot here, so forgive me if I go out of order.

I think the story lost me about any chance of a changed world when it had, to repeat myself, Cementoss already rebuilding entire towns that quickly. As I said, of course that would happen--Cementoss has that power, he is a good person, it would not be pragmatic to do anything else, use every tool you have. But visually and thematically, it says, “Don’t worry about your emotional attachment to your original home and possessions--things are reset back to normal!”

Add to it that the Cementoss moment is on the same page as a useless cameo by Koichi from My Hero Academia: Vigilantes, and I was sour. How do you stage the arrival of a popular enough spinoff character to just have him looking around at everything? You could have just as easily had him as a background gag, where he’s still having the same problems as before, to indicate he really hasn’t progress as a character (because, sorry fans, Koichi never progresses in Vigilantes, that is why the ending to that series is miserable to sit through).

I think I understand your point about “death equal redemption,” as regards maybe Toga, if she is confirmed dead, and Dabi, whenever he finally dies having now given an unearned, barely registering apology to Shoto, as well as Endeavor’s attempted death to stop Dabi that has effectively killed his Pro Hero work and, in a rather disablist fashion, implies that with his injuries he may as well be dead--which is fucked up and offensive, but that could be my misreading, not Horikoshi’s intention or even execution.

I do think that is similar enough to Crona’s willed exile to stop Asura, but I agree, there is the intention by the end of Chapter 113 that Maka will get Crona back--it’s just a matter of how much time and whether Ohkubo will ever wrap up that story (and wrap it up in a way that satisfies enough readers and not piss away continuity, canon, and the lasting message or theme of Soul Eater as a whole).

I don’t know what to make of Horikoshi’s attempts to speak to the problems with Pro Heroes within his fictional setting and as suitable for real-world application to talk about policing and other power structures--because Horikoshi was never consistent. Maybe this would work better if My Hero Academia was split into different series. I hate to suggest the MCU model, as we have seen how that has hurt enough other stories, MHA being one of them. But what if each competing, potentially contradicting message was in its own story, even as they share the same setting? You can have your story about how being a hero, lowercase “h,” rather than a Pro Hero means that you are holding onto the ideals, and how you wrestle with your own failures to hold onto those ideals and need to be more pragmatic or else you burn out your body: that is the point of Izuku’s journey in MHA. Then you can have a spinoff about the dangers of such power structures as like a form of policing and how such structures do violence not only to society and the people injured by police but also to the police themselves: that is Endeavor’s story, and it’d be a hell of a lot better as its own manga so that the full tragedy of what happens to him is not getting in the way of whatever hopeful message Izuku’s story is offering.

Furthermore, for all the praise Endeavor is getting right now, the guy was a bad Pro Hero. In Vigilantes he sends his flames out at random and burns to death a bystander [who turned out to be a villain anyway with a regenerative ability, so no lasting harm done]. During the Sports Festival he was a braggart about his son and burning bridges with All Might instead of focusing on collaborative efforts--something that then harms the mission to save Bakugo. His fixation on handling missions faster than his sidekicks fails to train them as effectively as he could, and it risks exhausting his body and attention, something that already happened against the Nomu, which he is still recovering from, and will persist when trying to save Natsu from Ending and stopping AFO. All of that works in terms of characterization, just not when the readers keep insisting he is a great Pro Hero and a great hero when the story is actively showing you he is not, and even Horikoshi is hammering this point when the only reason Endeavor got to be Number 1 is because All Might retired: Endeavor was a good enough Pro Hero, but he wasn’t a good Pro Hero or even a good hhero, if that makes sense.

You point out how the story seemed like it would go in the direction of presenting a message that heroes should not be worshipped. I have to agree that this detail falls apart within the story, as Izuku still, correctly or not, gets praise for what he accomplishes: the hero worship has not ended. But I do think the story can still stick this landing if we see Izuku does serve as inspiration that people take on agency themselves to help others rather than waiting for someone else to handle it.

You point out how the Pro Heroes are presented as akin to “fascists” and “supercops.” I think Horikoshi even backpedals on this point, getting close to the idea but refusing to commit to it. Endeavor is already one example I gave above. We can also take examples of Mount Lady and other seemingly selfish Pro Heroes--who are later shown to have actually decent reasons for their actions, understandable ones, defensible ones, or just pragmatic ones that are more so indictments against the system rather than only the individuals within it.

Why is Mount Lady a glory hound? Her Pro Hero work does enough collateral damage that she has to offset that bad impression by making a good impression on people, which means she also has to do even more Pro Hero work to pay for the damage she causes and to get better insurance coverage as she keeps losing providers because of the damage she is doing, putting her into a viscous cycle of having to get more fame to pay for damage she causes but which itself causes more damage that she then has to get more fame to pay for and on an on: she is a victim of her own success because the system does not make best use of her abilities. Granted, maybe she should have stayed in her rural hometown where she couldn’t cause as much damage--but that’s also a waste of the talents she can offer across Japan, as she can get around faster by her size and is useful when dealing with rescues from tall urban buildings. And granted, a lot of what I said is based on gag comics and encyclopedic information that should have been in the text itself, otherwise Mount Lady’s progression comes across as lazy: she goes from showboat to serious fighter in Kamino to giving useful advice to the students without a hint of self-absorption.

Society’s Fault or AFO’s?

I question how much of my problems with MHA are because I am asking the story to hit me over the head with its message and that I’m not practicing enough close reading skills to get the nuanced message it is offering, and how much of the problem is because Horikoshi is bad at this. AFO being responsible for so much misery should be fine because it does not detract from the responsibility Nana, her son, All Might, Gran Torino, bystanders, Endeavor, and others had for how Shigaraki was abandoned, Toga was suppressed, Spinner was ostracized, and Toya “died.” The problem is also that it is too coincidental even for a supposed galaxy brain-tier villain like AFO to account for all possibilities, at least with Shigaraki. Add to it how offputting it was for the story to need narration to literally spell out that AFO was always this bad since birth--no, that is not how babies work, they are not born bad, why is it now that the story is hitting me over the head with a message and one that is not believable? It’s not as if this could not work: show that Yoichi and AFO were taken in a few times since they were babies, hence each time was a chance for AFO to grow up and learn to work with others--and instead AFO got possessive and killed them all except Yoichi. Yes, that is still offputting that a child would be that lethal, but it also shows that he has been given chances over and over again--he was not born evil, he just refused to learn to live with others and that allowed him to be evil.

Endeavor and Wrapping Up

And I still didn’t tackle how the manga seems to retcon some details. As you point out, the conflict now comes across more as Endeavor being bad at communicating to Toya. And while the manga makes it clear that Endeavor’s bad communication with Toya doesn’t ameliorate the facts that he was practically buying Rei from her parents, hit her, hit Shoto, indirectly led to Rei scarring Rei, and indirectly led to Dabi leaving burns and scars on his mother and siblings, it is difficult to read this less as a complication for the character so that we see his tragedy and more as a late attempt to make him more endearing and sympathetic rather than maintaining his guilt. It’s as bad as the late revelation that all of this is inspired by Endeavor’s dad dying trying to save a child--something that should be poetic or thematically appropriate, that Endeavor’s dad died trying to do something he thought would help but only ended with both parties dead and a child without a parent, and Endeavor’s work to be a better hero did little initially to help society to prevent another father from dying and only stopped AFO after numerous failings ruined the lives of his wife and children--and even that victory fell apart because Endeavor didn’t stop AFO or even Dabi, it was Bakugo killing a child, then Izuku screwing up and letting AFO back, and the family having to contain Dabi. It’s a muddled mess where I don’t know what the point to any of this was except, “Endeavor must suffer,” and instead of that being cathartic or a lesson, it’s just a confusing mess.

I’ll wrap up there for now.

There’s more I want to say about Endeavor, but I think I touched upon the basics of how I would have responded to your point: Endeavor’s tale should be a tragedy, but that message is in conflict with the message we get from the stories of Izuku and everyone else, so, if Horikoshi wanted to get that message across, it would have been better as its own series running parallel to the initial My Hero Academia manga. But that was not going to happen without Horikoshi taking a slower pace or sharing art and writing with someone else. I mean, it sort of worked for some of Bungo Stray Dogs to farm out some of its art to other illustrators…

#mha spoiler #mha spoilers #spoiler #spoilers #mha 426 spoiler #mha 426 spoilers #long post

4 notes · View notes

evening-in-a-reflection · 2 years ago

Text

Cross posted on Ao3

A Bitty Drabble Series

- || Prologue -

Masterlist || Next >

- || Summary -

A series about you and your bitties.

Redoul was your first bitty. He was an unknown kind of Fell bitty that ended up being sold to a bitty fighting ring when he was still young. He was able to escape with the help from his cellmate and his cell’s neighbor, who helped him sneak out and run away.

Redoul, who’s life was saved by you, ended up falling in love with you... and you accepted those feelings and returned them.

...But as the story goes on, you soon find and meet those old friends of his, and they become just as important to you as Redoul is.

Of course, you don’t stop at just your three LV ridden bitties, and take in more as time goes on.

...Although, none of your more recent bitties have quite the same amount of LV as your first three do, and they might just be a little scared of the trio at first, but with time they do get along and eventually do find comfort in one another.

- || Notes -

The story is fairly lighthearted, so there’s not much drama nor angst, but the reader’s first three bitties share a rather unfortunate background in a bitty ring, but their background isn’t really the main point of the story.

The chapters are (or are planned to be) in chronological order, but there might be some significant time skips in between the chapters—especially between the prologue and chapter 1. If you get confused while reading you’re more than welcome to ask any questions you may have!

I’m writing this as I go, and there isn’t really any end point I’m looking to get to, since this mostly just me writing for my own enjoyment and to get my thoughts and ideas out, so a lot of the story is up in the air right now. There also isn't any sort of schedule I'm following for writing/posting the chapters, so the time between each chapter will depend on when my motivation decides to kick in...

On the other hand, if you have any ideas you want to share as you read, I would love to hear them! This isn’t me taking requests, so if you have an idea I don’t end up using please don’t be upset. I’m just trying to have fun, and I want you guys too as well!

It was late, nearly past midnight as you laid there on your mattress, scrolling through your phone. It was your first night in your new house, and the moving van wouldn’t be there until the morning. The only things you had with you were the boxes and mattress that you were able to cram into the minivan that your friend let you borrow. Admittedly, you were able to pack quite a few things with you after playing the minivan version of Tetris, but that game was no stranger to you.

You had done a lot of moving around when you were younger, never staying in one play for more than a few years before moving on to the next home. For every move you had gone through, your mother always had a minivan to do it with.

You would be shocked at how many things you could fit inside of one. You even remember moving a whole couch in one at one point!

Throughout those years of near constant moving in your life, your mother had gone through three different minivans and both you and your mother loved each and every one of them to their very last days. It was only until you were fourteen did your family finally settle down somewhere where your parents were likely going to stay for the rest of their lives.

After about a year there, when the third minivan that had taken your family there was finally starting to come to the end of its life, your parents decided to get new cars for themselves. And since there were no plans on moving again your mother decided, for the first time since for as long as you could remember, to get a vehicle that wasn’t a minivan.

That aside, your friend, Allira, is someone you’ve known since you moved to this little town in what felt like the middle of nowhere. She owned a flower shop you would often visit to buy some plants to help liven up your little apartment with, and after the first few trips, the two of you hit it off and eventually exchanged numbers—you’ve been close friends ever since.

The minivan that she owned was most often used for their little business; transporting the plants from point A to point B when it was needed, but in this situation, Allira was kind enough to let you borrow it for your move.

To be honest, you were debating on getting a minivan for yourself at some point, but in the end you decided to settle with your little car for now and instead move out of your old apartment and finally get yourself a place to truly call home.

Though to be honest that wasn’t your plan to begin with at all, sometimes life throws you a deal you simply can’t—or more don’t want—to pass up.

Like now.

You see, it all started when you ended up becoming friends with a sweet old man who you’d often have a cup of coffee (or hot chocolate) with after you were finished with your work for the day. When you first met he was sitting alone at a table in a coffee shop, looking far too lonely for you to ignore. Which was unusual in and of itself, since you usually didn’t pay any attention to the people around you any more than you had to, but perhaps you were in a good mood that day. Either way, you ended up going up to the man and offering to sit with him to keep him company. Mr. Luther, or Grampa Luther, as he insisted on you calling him, was delighted to have the company, and that’s what started a long lasting friendship you weren’t expecting to make that day.

Ever since, you had been going to that coffee shop after work every day to keep Grampa Luther company and listen as he told any story that came to his mind.

Unfortunately, after three years had passed, Grampa Luther finally came to the end of his time and passed away peacefully in his sleep. It was sudden for everyone who knew him, really. His house was just outside of town and was within a short driving distance of his favorite coffee shop. He drove there almost every day and never had any trouble, but you suppose it truly was simply his time to go when he passed that night.

In the end, you decided to buy his little house a few months after it went up for sale. And perhaps it was an odd thing to do, since you’re not even related to him, but something in you felt at peace with your decision, so you decided to stick with it.

You sigh, and shake your head. Reaching over to your phone charger, you plug in your phone and set it to the side for the night. You rolled over onto your side and tucked yourself into your blankets, settling in for the night as you let sleep slowly take you.

You wake up slowly, the light of the morning sun peaking through the windows of your room, softly brushing against your face.

You sigh, letting your body wake at its own pace. You always did love waking up with the sun, it just felt so nice. You couldn’t quite describe nor explain why, but you always seemed to be in a better mood throughout the day if you got to wake up to sunlight seeping through your windows. Your eyes open, and you stretch, feeling your muscles pull taut as you do so. After hearing a few pops you relax and yawn, laying on your back as you stare at the ceiling. After staring for a few minutes… and doing what was probably the human equivalent of a computer booting up, you roll your tongue across the inside of your mouth to try and rid it of that odd morning taste you seem to sometimes get after you sleep. Finally, deciding that laying in bed wasn’t going to do anything, you bravely roll off the bed and onto the floor, taking your blankets with you.

Your mattress was on the floor, so there wasn’t much of a drop, and with the cushioning of your blankets the “fall” is painless.

Sighing once again, you pick yourself and your blankets up and finally stand.

You pause, and search your memory for where the bathroom is, only to remember that the master bedroom—where you are right now—has a bathroom connected to it. You drop your blankets onto your bed and walk towards the bathroom, fighting back a shiver brought forth from the cold morning air.

…you were an odd mix of “morning person” and “night owl”, and not even you were quite sure how that worked. While you liked waking up with the light of the sun, you always had to fight yourself into actually getting up and not going back to sleep. While on the other hand, you could stay up until ungodly hours of the night and still not feel the backlash of “staying up too late”.

You could fall asleep just around midnight and still wake up with the sun at six AM.

Perks of not needing as much sleep as most people, you suppose.

Later in the day, after hours of unboxing and organizing, you walk around and admire your work so far.

Everything was only about half finished. The great room had a couch, loveseat, coffee table, and a TV still in its box, waiting to be mounted on the wall above the fireplace. The coffee table was oval in shape and made of dark wood, and resting on top were some flowers your dad sent to you in celebration for your move and some remotes for the TV and sound system—the sound system itself waiting in its own box to be set up. Surrounding the coffee table was a large black couch and matching loveseat, the colors nicely contrasting with the off-white walls of the room. The floor was a dark brown wood with a white carpet on top. The fireplace was made of dark gray stones and was sitting in the corner of the great room, angled in a way that it could face diagonally into the center of the room.

“I’ll have to get some new plants to help get some color in here...” you mutter to yourself as you look around the rather monotone room. “Good thing I’ll be able to get my lemon tree from Allira tomorrow—among my other plants.”

All of the house plants that you had in your apartment were currently staying with Allira for safekeeping, since you couldn’t safely transport them in the minivan with all of your boxes in there, and the moving truck was mainly only moving your furniture, so your plants couldn’t safely go with them either.

And so, your plants awaited you safely within the arms of your dear friend.

And among those plants was your precious lemon tree, which you have had since you were a teenager. It’s grown several feet since you first got it and to be honest it’s been due a permanent home in the ground for a while now, with its height now being above your own... you just haven’t had anywhere to plant it until recently.

To be honest you didn’t really want to plant it, but sooner or later it’s going to get too big and you won’t be able to keep repotting it for much longer. So you plan on planting it either this spring or the next...

...Ah, you're getting distracted.

...With a small hum, you turn on your heel and enter the kitchen.

The living room led into the kitchen in an open floor plan. No food was there yet, and the cooking essentials and silverware—among other things—had yet to be taken out of their boxes, so the kitchen wasn’t even half done at the moment. There was an island and good shelving space along with a small four person dining table sat in the open space just outside the actual kitchen.

The floor of the kitchen was made of cream colored tiles, and the walls a grayish green. The countertops, cupboards, and any shelves were made of a dark wood just a few shades lighter than the great room's hardwood floor.

Walking over to a door connected to the kitchen/dining area, you opened it to reveal the laundry room. In there was a washer and dryer, along with a sink and small shelving unit built into the wall. Just beyond the shelves was a side door leading outside. Your boxes of cleaning supplies and extra blankets (and one or two pillows) have been emptied out onto the shelves, along with various miscellaneous items tucked away in there for storage purposes.

Back in the kitchen was a pair of glass double doors leading to your back porch. There wasn’t anything out there yet but you were considering starting some sort of small garden out there, but hadn’t decided on it yet.

“If I do put a garden out here I could totally turn this place into a little cottagecore house... I mean, I definitely live in the right place for it.” You say as you look to your backyard.

Your back yard didn’t have much—or anything, really. Your house sat on a large patch of grass surrounded by trees in an oblique circle, with only your long driveway leading out of the circle of trees.

It would have been a little intimidating, if you weren’t so familiar with the area.

Farther out was a small, worn down path leading between the trees. You’ve been down that path only a few times, but at the end of the path was a small creek of slow flowing water; the water going down by only three feet at its deepest parts.

The creek would be a good spot to hang out during the summer time to cool off. However, with the autumn weather as it is now, you have no intention of taking a walk down that path anytime soon.

And since the trees were stripped bare from their leaves—with the end of fall approaching and winter coming even faster—there isn’t much scenery to look at.

...Back inside, on the other side of the room, was a small hall leading to three doors. The doors adjacent to one another were the guest rooms, and the door in the middle was a bathroom.

You were planning on keeping the extra rooms mostly empty, with the exception of a mattress and a few basic decorative pieces in each of the rooms for guests to use in case you have any over. You thought about turning one of them into an office, but had a feeling you would have rarely ever actually used it, so you discarded the idea for the time being.

You walked back to your room—the master bedroom—and looked around the space. In the corner next to the door was your queen sized mattress; now off of the ground and placed onto a proper bed frame. Sitting beside your bed was a night stand, holding things like any chargers you had and a small box of trinkets you don’t know what to do with. Your bed was now piled with pillows of various sizes and shapes along with two layers of mink blankets and another blanket you put somewhere in there—all in your preferred colors. Winter was coming soon and you weren’t going to be fighting off the cold with one or two pillows and blankets.

…Not to mention the fact that you just liked the excessive amount of soft things.

The cold of the upcoming winter was just a good excuse to indulge in your strange habit of collecting a mass amount of soft things—but that was beside the point.

The floor of your bedroom was made of the same hardwood as the great room, with a rectangular carpet centered in the room. On the wall opposite to the door was a bay window large enough to seat two people decorated in—lo and behold—various different pillows for cushioning and a thin blanket you had thrown in for easy access when you would eventually use the window. Nestled in the corner at the foot of your bed was a black chair with, yet again, a pillow sitting on it; the chair angled in a way to where it faced near the center of the room.

The chair was mostly just there to fill in the space, since you already had the bay window, which had plenty of seating room for you—but once again, that was beside the point.

Finally, on the wall across from your bed were two sliding doors. One led to the master bathroom, and the other to your walk-in closet. The closet held about half of your clothes now, with the rest still waiting in their boxes. The bathroom didn’t have much either, with it mostly being the essentials you brought with you the day before.

The house had more room than you needed to be honest. Three bedrooms was more than what one person would really need, but you didn’t mind much. More room can always be a good thing to have—so long as it isn’t too much extra room.

You sit down on your bed and lean back, falling into your pillows. “Hmmm, it’s already past noon… I should go get some food and, y’know, actually get something to fill up the kitchen with.” You breathe in and let out a low sigh, tired from all the work you did that day.

“Mmmh... I wanna take a nap...” you sigh again. “But if I do that I won’t be able to fall asleep tonight.” With a huff, you sit up and get off your bed, walking over to your shoes you left on the floor.

Slipping them on and grabbing your purse, you head towards your front door and car—grabbing a jacket along the way.

“‘M gonna have to unpack my winter clothes soon... it’s getting colder...” you mumble absentmindedly to yourself, starting your car and driving down the long driveway.

You let your thoughts wander, making a mental list of all the things you needed to buy from the store. It didn’t take long for them to wander into making a list for what you were going to need for this winter.

‘With the house being about a twenty minute drive from the town, I’m gonna need to stock up on food before it starts to snow too heavily... I should also get something to help insulate the windows. Mom would use some pretty heavy curtains to keep the warm air in... oh, I should probably stock up on firewood for the fireplace too. The winters here can be brutal. At least before when I was living in my apartment there were people nearby to help if I needed it. But now, out here, it’s a twenty minute drive into town, and a thirty minute drive to the nearest hospital, so I should stock up on medical supplies as well...’

As you drove down the road, small flakes of white began to dot your front window, melting into droplets as you continued to drive.

You spared them a glance in surprise, eyes widening at the sight.

“It’s snowing...? I know autumn is almost over, but snow isn’t supposed to be expected until mid November... What the heck? Hopefully it’s just a light passing, I’m not ready for an early winter at all!” You continue to watch the road, now going through everything you could afford right now for the possibly early winter.

“Guess I’ll be spending a little more today than I thought... just in case... stars, I am so lucky I’m not short on money, otherwise I would be postponing my moving in and staying with Allira until winter’s over–”

Before you even knew what happened, something small suddenly darted out of the tree line and collapsed in the middle of the road some distance ahead of you.

“What the heck was that...!?” You hiss out, swerving to the left to avoid running over it and almost slamming on the break, slowing down to a stop.

You put your car into park and step out, bracing yourself against the cold air and cautiously approaching the... the whatever it was.

'Was it an animal? Perhaps it was injured and it had tried to cross the road?'

Pieces of snow drifted down softly, bits of it landing in your hair and melting into it, slowly but surely damping it.

You walk forward, and come to a stop a few feet away from the thing that fell onto the road.

It...

...It was a bitty.

Masterlist || Next >

Thank you for reading!

#bitty drabble series #mirror’s writing #undertale x reader #bittybones #bittybones ocs

7 notes · View notes

buzzybee3 · 5 months ago

Note

From your post earlier, what are the two ideas in your head I’m curious. I also love goats! But I don’t understand why these images are together. I need to know! My curiosity needs this!!!

💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙

Of course!! Also the goat is very important.

Sorry I didn’t answer sooner I’ve been busy with school 😓

Tw for traumatic and dark themes such as self harm, mentions of almost suicide, and violence. This is masked as a kids show as all good shows are, like gravity falls and she-ra. So strap in yall.

The goat is a god that has somehow manages to keep his universe from destruction and relatively peaceful. He created a tome by accident a millennia ago and while it looks horrifying, it actually has never brought harm to his world, if anything only healing. Except nobody knows this, there is no record of this book or its creation. Nobody knows the goat is the god in charge of the world. It’s supposed to be a sort of inside joke that he's in charge.

Our main character is an 18-year-old Aroace individual, who has suffered from trauma her whole life. Still, in small ways, she doesn't feel like she deserves to be upset or impacted by these ‘micro-traumas’, which she learns is not good eventually. She is very AuADHD coded and most of her mental health problems and traumas stem from that. Her friends in season 1 make her feel worthless, even if not on purpose, but I promise it gets better for her.

She finds a book by chance after a bumpy train ride and she becomes bonded to it and is able to use its magic to transform into creatures of light and power as she discovers more of herself and faces her trauma. These creatures in the universe stem from pure light and hope, like doves, phoenixes, and even unicorns, and of course, mister the goat god is in this category too. Again, this is disguised as a kids show, there's no direct talk about abuse and trauma, it is just heavily implied.

As the first season progresses, there will be little things that her current friend group does that make her feel left out, useless, or otherwise a bad person, when she is in fact not one. They seem like unimportant problems because she's still able to go on adventures with them and have fun, but this is just self-destructive behavior. During this time she starts making new friends who understand her, and who are like her, but she is unable to hang out with them due to outside circumstances, they make her happy though. We also get to see a lot of her thought processes for these events, and why she reacts the way she does, mostly just to prove to viewers that she is in fact not lazy or sloth, just burned out. This is based on many of my friends' experiences as well as myself in order to give something more relatable to viewers.

As time passes, shadow monsters start to plague the cities and the land near her, and she decides to start fighting them using her cool new light powers. her friends are taking advantage of her in small ways until the end of season one shows her new friends, specifically one who had been tasked with deciphering the words in the book, learn that the page that seemed to warn about this other evil that creates shadow monsters was actually a warning to the books user that by being bonded to the book and using the powers it grants them, allows their anxiety and mental health to manifest itself as monsters. The effect of using so much pure light causes more dark to show up to balance it out because the MC has no internal light to give back in return.

The main character ends up almost consumed by this darkness in the middle of the finale of season 1 before her true, new friends come to help her. However, they end up being taken down by the shadows as the main character learns that while she can get help from others, the only way to truly move forward is if she accepts this truth and fights this for herself. Not anyone else, just her, because in cases like these, people need to accept change and help in order to actually grow. And they win. and then season 2 is coming to terms with all of that. with her new friends traumas coming to light and all of them healing as they become harbingers of the light.

The shadow monsters are an allegory for self-harm as fighting them brings physical damage to MC, getting bruises and cuts as a result, and at the end of the first season almost consumes them, which is an allegory for suicide. and the light is an allegory for healing and learning from trauma, as the main character's powers become stronger the more they face and accept their trauma instead of run from it. However, MC’s new friends don’t make fun of her for getting hurt, they tell her she doesn’t need to fight the monsters alone, and basically call her a hero for living through all the battles, because she is, and anyone who survives this sorta situation is because they are heroes, just not those of a typical sense. There is also this random goat(mister god guy) that is connected to the book they meet at the end of season one, which starts at the end of episode one as a sort of random flash, with empty white horns, but in the book, there are pages that allude to it in modern language, and everything else is in ciphers. However, by the end of season one a good portion of its horns are covered in golden plates and coloring.

By the end of the show in the season 2 finale they can use the power of this light hope goat (mister god) to start helping to bring light back to the universe. Basically, it ends on a note that while not everyone can be helped, it is still good to be the light in someone's life, with the end credit scene being completely silent and having help call lines for things like domestic violence, suicide prevention, and many other topics before the credits actually roll. The main topics being, of course, suicide, mental health, LGBTQIA+ support, and violence of any kind. These hotlines are in all of the episodes, not exactly hidden but they only appear in episodes they correlate to.

I want the character design to be a very significant representation of the characters’ personality, such as circle, square, or triangle characters. and their emotions can be shown through their lines and exaggeration. So a triangle or square character can have softer edges when they feel vulnerable or sad or even lighthearted. while circle characters can have sharper edges when they get upset, mad, or snarky.

As for the second idea-

Mc is a siren. Her scales are the colors of the lesbian flag but inconspicuous. (because yes) Pretend it's the needed colors to camouflage in the sand hehe.

In this universe when anything or person dies they turn into whisps. And they actually look really cute, but only creatures can see them, not humans.

In this universe, when a creature eats a whisp it becomes more powerful.

Whips are very rare to find because they are in hiding. However our protagonist hates hurting them.

This results in a small cave being filled with them and the protagonist protecting them from other sea monsters.

One day they get caught by a giant monster and everyone has to flee. But this is just part of the backstory.

Getting to the actual storyline- MC lives in a world where humans live among monsters happily, except for a few. This is actually in the same universe as the last show, just different parts of the world have different effects on the magic due to something that will be explored in the shows ;).

There are lots of scientists that do experiments on these sorts of monsters illegally.

Less of a kids show, more for teens. Yes I know that sounds ridiculous. (Partially due to crazier fight scenes and also due to blatant talk about death.)

In this universe there are many creatures, most are the last of their kind, but can live for long periods of time, like hundreds of years, helped by the wisps they eat.

The point is that the main character has to evade both monsters and humans, and save their friends.

There is a human, a rich one, trying to kill her friends, mer and wisp, and trying to find a way to use their power for themself.

Some of her friends do actually die, and don’t come back as wisps due to the experiments.

But before we can get to that point, MC has to go on wacky adventures, getting a human disguise, learning to be human, and getting a ton of friends as she ends up learning way more about herself in the process of trying to get strong in a world where usually you need to hurt others to do so.

This idea is less fleshed out but I have a ton of ideas for things they have to escape.

At some point she and her human friends find an island with lots of beds that lower into tanks. The island is artificially made and has some rotting bodies inside of older mer. These are from before the ban and illegalization of hunting mer and cryptids.

That and having to find a way to sneak into the giant mansion. And having to find ways to stop the advances of men, because she doesn't like them, having to sacrifice self morals in order to get a ticket in. None of these people know she is not human.

There's a recurring character that is meant to be her partner, but they don’t get together until the last episode. She is actually a cryptid too, but neither of them realize the other's true identity till the MC’s is revealed in the mansion during a large party.

The other cryptid saves her life, along with her friends, and there's a small period of time that involves fixing everything, and finding and putting a stop to all others bringing harm to these creatures.

You might wonder how the wisp friends fit into this. Just know they actually make very good talking buddies, and also secret spies. Only creatures can see them, but somehow they still find trouble.

I am currently working on refs for everyone so I’ll post them by January hopefully.

#buzzywrites #original story #not fnaf or fandom related at all #might make an au for the first one tho #original works #sooo I’m copyrighting these ideas right now #no one can steal #hehe #jkjks #but like I want ppl to know that I did in fact come up with this idea #both of them #sorta #they came to me in dreams so does it count?#writers of tumblr

0 notes

strangestcase · 1 year ago

Text

Like Ok sure the “twist” that Sadness is the most mature, level-headed emotion and has a very important role in Riley’s life not despite but BECAUSE she makes her bad is already set up by scenes like Sadness consoling Bing Bong (this is the moment I realize I sound insane) or figuring out how to get into the Subconscious without forcing the door. But (gestures broadly) having a role that contrasts with the way she’s perceived isn’t exclusive to Sadness. Take my hand.

While other characters’ personified emotions are invariably depicted as part of themselves, Riley’s emotions have personalities of their own and they arguably can choose what they look like- their gender presentation, their fashion sense, the way they talk. So the whole point with Sadness is that, barring the fact her role as an emotion is too abstract and “adult” for Joy to understand it, she doesn’t exactly LOOK like she’s the one sensible person in the room. She looks like a perpetually bullied teenager (which she arguably is until she’s eventually accepted), she’s whiny and pessimistic, she only gets excited by cute boys and sad movies.

Her being THE tool for Riley’s social life and maturing clashes a lot with her garbagegirl aesthetic, is what I’m saying. The thing is, that’s not unique to her. As I’ve said before, since Riley’s little brain buddies are, in-universe, people of their own, they make a conscious effort to carry themselves one way or the other. The most obvious example is Joy who looks like a manic pixie dream girl, is literally made of glitter, and seems perpetually optimistic- but actually is insecure, domineering, self-loathing. And you can tell she forms a dyad (not just narratively but LITERALLY) with Sadness because her secondary theme color is blue.

But what I was thinking last night is that the subplot with Fear, Disgust, and Anger getting frontstuck having to man Riley’s brain by themselves and pretending Joy is still fronting everything is okay ALSO acts as foreshadowing to the final reveal. Okay, it’s less obvious with Disgust since she acts catty and high and mighty and has all the right to be, though her gauge for what counts as “poison” is incredibly loose. But it’s more obvious, even a fucking plot point in the latter’s case, with Fear and Anger.

Fear carries himself as a rational, logical man. He dresses formally, can usually be seen writing stuff down or drinking tea, he acts like a film critic when dreams roll in. However, he’s far from rational. He is literally fear personified! The only moment in which he’s acting rationally is the reoccurring nightmare scene, only because he knows it’s not real. And Anger appears to be serious, no-nonsense, businesslike, ADULT, but he’s the one that decides running away is a perfectly reasonable plan, he’s a little goofy, and he thinks “piss shit” is the funniest thing a twelve year old can say.

So Inside Out (2015) just. Sat us down and said. Emotions meant for survival (avoiding danger, avoiding disease, righting wrong) aren’t rational, aren’t mature, can’t be human without the missing parts. Isn’t it funny that their personifications present themselves as rational and mature and human? Anyway the incarnation of maturity and empathy that the protagonist literally can’t live without and needs to grow up looks like she eats ice cream straight from the tub.

Woke up at like 3 am with the sudden realization that Inside Out was setting up the plot twist with Sadness all the time not just through plot beats but also through the other personified emotions and how they’re depicted. Don’t call.

31 notes · View notes

ereardon · 3 years ago

Text

As It Was [Chapter 3][Hangman x Reader]

Summary: When Jake Seresin calls to tell you he’s accepted a permanent position at Top Gun, you’re elated to finally be living in the same city as your best friend. But everything changes when Jake tells you his news — he has a new girlfriend, and he’s serious about her. And while you want to like her, for Jake’s sake, something about her feels wrong. Jake's arrival in San Diego also puts you in the direct path of Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, who has set his sights on you despite being Jake’s sworn enemy. Every move Rooster makes, Jake intercepts. What game are these two playing, and why is Jake more concerned about you moving on with Rooster than he is about his own relationship?

Warnings: Cursing, alcohol, no use of y/n, violence, illusion to smut, mention of death

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

WC: 5K

Series masterlist here

You decided it would look too impatient, too pathetic, to wait outside. Instead, you shuffled around inside the house doing mindless chores to kill the time. You had been ready for forty minutes, blonde hair perfectly curled and pulled back in a messy bun, a few strands left hanging out to frame your face. Tight blue dress with a slit that went dangerously high, capped sleeves to make up for it in modesty, strappy heels.

You were elbow deep in the junk drawer of the kitchen when you heard a rumbling in the driveway. Quickly, you extricated yourself from the pile of tape and old receipts and shoved the drawer closed.

The doorbell rang and you swung open the door to see Rooster in a pair of jeans and a button down shirt, wide grin across his lips. For the first time, you noticed a few faded scars on the left side of his face. Your fingers twitched at your side, wanting desperately to trace them.

“Well shit,” he muttered, stepping in the doorway. “You look amazing.”

You smiled and reached for your purse that was hung on the back of the closet door. “Ready to go?”

He blocked the door for a moment. “One second. Just need to give you a second look.”

You smirked and grabbed his hand, pulling him out the door. “Come on, plenty of time to gawk tonight.”

Rooster glanced over at you in the passenger seat of his truck as you sped down the freeway.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” you demanded. “Or are you just going to keep staring at me and almost get us launched off the bridge?”

He chuckled. “Where has Seresin been hiding you all my life?”

You relaxed back into the seat. “What’s your real name? I know it can’t be Rooster. I’m talking God-given, your mother calls you this name.”

“Bradley,” he said quietly and you sensed a shift in the air in the cab of the truck. You turned to him and he had his eyes glued to the road. You knew better than to press him, just from the energy he was giving off, so instead you laid your hand on his thigh, felt his leg stiffen under your touch. “Fuck, you’re going to make this hard on me, aren’t you?” he whispered.

You dug your fingertips into his denim-clad muscular thigh. “Definitely.”

Rooster pulled into a parking spot in a largely empty parking lot. You looked around as he opened your door and shivered in the evening air.

“Alright, are you going to murder me? Because the whole squad knows we’re on a date, so you have no alibi.”

He placed one large hand on your lower back and steered you toward a brick wall, pulling you in close to his side.

You looked up at him. “That’s not a response,” you said and he gave you a sly grin.

“Relax,” he said, leading you to a door that seemed to appear out of nowhere on the side of the building. He reached for it and yanked it open.

You stepped inside to find a prohibition style cocktail bar, red velvet booths lining one wall, a giant wooden bar with dim chandelier lighting above it. Rooster smiled at the bartender as you walked past, and directed you to a booth at the far end of the room, away from the stage, tucked into the corner.

You sat down and he scooted in until your thighs were touching.

“Surprised?” he asked and you nodded with a smile. “Good.” He laid one warm hand on your upper thigh, pinkie tucking in under the slit of your dress and grazing bare skin. You jumped slightly at the vibration of his finger dragging across your thigh and he smirked.

A waitress appeared. “Two negronis please,” he said before she could put down a cocktail menu.

“What if I don’t like gin?” you asked, turning to him, propping one arm up on the back of the plush seat.

Rooster leaned into you closer. “Well, date over, I guess.”

“Good thing it’s my favorite, then,” you said and he smiled.

“Knew there was something about you that I liked,” he said, voice thick and you watched his eyes flick over your features, reading you like an open book. “Last time I’m going to ask. What’s the deal with you and Seresin?”

The waitress deposited your drinks and you snatched yours up, taking a sip. It was perfect. “Jake has been my best friend since we were eighteen. Simple as that.”

“And you’re telling me you two never dated?”

You shook your head. “Never.”

Rooster tipped his head. “I’ve seen him around you. Watched him touch you.” His hand shifted and you felt all five fingers duck beneath the fabric of your dress at the very top of the slit. Rooster’s fingers pressed down against your thigh, only a few inches from your panties. He leaned in closer until his mouth was touching your ear. “Do you let him touch you like this?”

Your breath was ragged as he pulled back with a grin, extracting his fingers from under your dress to grab his drink, taking a long swig. “Are you always this bold?” you asked.

He shook his head. “You never answered my question, sweetheart. Do you let Seresin touch you? The way you’re thinking about me touching you?”

“And how is that?” you murmured.

“I think you know.” “I want to hear you say it.”

“Do you let him kiss you?” he whispered and you shook your head. “Slide his hands down your back and over your ass?” Head shake. “Prop you up on the counter, spread your legs apart with his hands, dig his thumbs into your thighs so he can see how wet you are.” You shook your head again, chest rising as one of Rooster’s hands slid up your thigh, over your hip, to your lower back. His brown eyes locked on yours. “You don’t let him run his fingers over your chest, pinch you with his thumb and index finger?” Another head shake. His hand started to journey upward until it threaded into the bun at the nape of your neck and his fingers tightened in your hair. Rooster leaned closer, tugging gently on your bun so you were looking up at him, eyes wide, pupils dilated. “Let him pull your hair while he fucks you from behind?”

At this point you were panting and he lowered his gaze to watch your chest rise and fall under the silky blue material. He released his grip on your hair and you sunk back down, watching him smirk and take another sip of his drink. You had never in your life met someone so forward and sexy from the start. Even the mustache, which previously would have sent you running for the hills, somehow added to the allure. “Now I see why Jake didn’t want me to come tonight,” you said, watching Rooster’s eyes darken. He gulped down the rest of his drink.

“Oh yeah? What did he say?”

“That you weren’t good enough for me,” you answered and he scoffed. You reached out and traced over the scar on his left cheek and he jolted. Instead of pulling away, you simply flattened your fingers against his skin, looking up into his eyes. “He’s wrong, you know.”

“About what?” Rooster’s voice was gruff. Jake was obviously his Achilles’ heel. You were going to force it out of one of them, or both of them, someday. But that was for another time, another place.

You let your fingers drop from his face. “You’re good enough,” you whispered, watching Rooster’s face soften. “I’m not some piece of fine China, not to be touched, like Jake will have you believe. I’m not his responsibility, no matter how much he likes to think I am. So don’t treat me differently than any other girl you would take on a date.”

He gave you a wide grin and to your surprise, scooted off the bench seat to standing, holding out his hand. “Dance with me.”

Again, not a request. Simply a demand, and you immediately put your hand in his, let him lead you out onto the dance floor. The band on the stage was playing a loud swing song, and Rooster pulled you effortlessly into his arms, spinning you around the dance floor expertly. You laughed and let him dance you in circles song after song, and when the music finally slowed he pulled you in tightly, a large hand pressed deeply into the dip of your lower back and you threaded one hand through the ends of his hair around the nape of his neck.

“Rooster,” you said and he looked down at you.

“Yeah, baby?” he replied.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Back in the truck, he turned to you. “Where to?”

You turned, your chin resting on your shoulder. “Let’s go to the beach. Oh and I am starving, you promised me dinner.”

Rooster grinned as you tore into the burger, bare feet propped on the dashboard as he drove out into the darkness. You leaned over and fed him a bite, wiping at his mustache when it inevitably came in contact with some sauce.

He held out a hand to help you down from the bed of the truck, and your toes sunk quickly in the sand. Rooster followed on your heels, his hand grasped tightly around yours. When you stopped near the shore and sat down on the dry part of the sand bank, he sat down behind you, pulling you into his arms, your back pressed against his chest. You leaned back, let him trace invisible lines up your forearms. The beach was empty, save for the dying remnants of a fire someone had forgotten to completely smother a few hundred feet away.

“Who taught you to dance?” you asked after several minutes of silence.

He paused. Then, “My mother.” You sensed a change in his voice. Swiveling around, you hiked up your dress and straddled his lap, Rooster’s hands naturally settling on your waist.

“Bradley?” you asked and he looked up, surprise creasing his face at your use of his first name.

“What is it, honey?”

“Why don’t you like to be called by your first name?”

He shook his head. “Who said I didn’t?”

“Well nobody said it. It’s just the way you acted when I asked your real, God-given name. Made it seem like there was something you weren’t telling me.”

He sighed. “It wasn’t you asking my name. You mentioned my mother. She, uh, she died a few years ago.”

“Oh, my God,” you said, reaching out and pressing both hands to his cheeks before pulling him into a hug. “I am so sorry.”

His large, warm hands wrapped around you and you stroked your fingers up and down the length of his back, all taunt muscles underneath his shirt. “It’s OK,” he said, but you heard his voice. He was broken. It was something you recognized all too well.

You pulled back, smoothing your hands through his hair and coming to rest on his broad shoulders. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pressed you on it.”

Rooster shook his head. “It’s OK. It’s better this way. I like you, Abby. I’m not afraid to tell you that. I’m not afraid to tell you what I want or what baggage I’m toting around.”

He was honest and raw in a way that you had seen very few men before him ever act, and never on a first date. Something about him felt instantaneously familiar. And then his hands started to tighten on your waist and you felt a jolt of electricity buzz through your core. “You are not at all who I expected,” you murmured and he smiled.

“No?”

You shook your head. “No. You’re so much better.” Then you leaned down and pressed your lips against his, felt one of Rooster’s hands come up to grip your neck, the other sliding across your back until he was touching your side. He shifted underneath you and rolled you, gently, until you were on your back in the sand. For a moment, you were reminded of a week before when you had been in an eerily similar position with Jake, the night he took you to the Hard Deck. Before Diana. Before Rooster. Before everything had changed.

And then Rooster’s tongue pushed softly between your lips and every thought of Jake evaporated from your mind.

***

“Did you sleep with him?”

You threw a tired look over your shoulder. “That’s none of your business.”

Jake dropped the tote bag of food from the farmer’s market on your kitchen counter and lifted his sunglasses off, setting them down near the bag. “It sure as hell is my business. He’s my fucking wingman. And you’re my best friend.”

You huffed and started to pull the fruit and vegetables out of the bag, slapping them onto the marble counter. “I’m not going to answer.”

“Why not?” his tone was icy.

“That’s between me and Bradley.”

You watched Jake’s jaw set into a hard line. Your use of Rooster’s first name set him on fire. “So it's Bradley now?”

“Yes, it is.”

“You seriously like him?”

You plunged a few apples into the water and vinegar bath you had set up in the second sink. “No, I just went on a date with him because he repulses me.” Jake’s fist balled up at his side. “Obviously I like him, Jake. You’re not blind. He’s a fucking gorgeous pilot. What's not to like?” You knew that would get under Jake’s skin. Being an aviator was his personality, and he never let you forget it.

“He’s not right for you.”

“Oh yeah? Speaking of not right. When were you going to tell me about Diana?”

Jake paused, his hands outstretched on the kitchen island. “What do you mean? I told you about her last week.”

Whipping around, you gave him a dark look. “You had a girlfriend. For six months. And you never once thought to tell me? What the fuck? You say I’m your best friend. We talk every single day. And somehow she never came up? You were hiding her from me.”

“I wasn’t hiding her,” he whispered.

“No? So I must have just blacked out every time you mentioned her for the last six months, is that it?” You threw down the kitchen towel you had been using to dry the produce and Jake looked up with shock. “What the fuck are we doing here, Jake? Sneaking around, lying to each other? Messing in each other’s love lives? This isn’t us. This isn’t who we are. I used to be able to trust you. I thought you coming to San Diego would be the best fucking thing that had ever happened. That it would be like UT all over again. That I would have my best friend back.”

“Bubs,” he said, moving forward and pressing his hands against your arms, thumbs rubbing back and forth softly. “Hey, honey, it’s me. I’m the same person. I’m still your best friend. I want the best for you. Why is that too much to ask?”

You looked up into his soft green eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me about Diana sooner?”

He stuttered, but you didn’t drop your gaze. “Abby,” he whispered.

You shook your head and he gripped you tighter. You tried to look away and he reached up one hand, guiding your line of sight back to his.

“Sweetheart, come on,” he whispered. “You know I would have told you eventually. I was just waiting for the right time.”

“You’re giving me such shit for going on one date with Bradley,” you whispered, your throat closing in, tears peppering the backs of your eyes. “Meanwhile, you lied to me for half a year.” You pushed his arms away, folded yours over your chest. “You should go.”

“Bubs,” Jake begged and you shook your head.

“Jake, please. I’ll talk to you later.”

He knew you well enough to know you were firm on your decision. Jake grabbed his sunglasses from the counter, and hesitated before stepping closer, pressing his lips to your cheek.

Once you heard the door shut and his truck buzz to life, you slipped down to sitting, back against the wooden cabinets. Why did he care so much about you and Rooster? And why were you really so mad at him for hiding his relationship with Diana?

***

“Are you alright?” Bob tipped his head, his wire frames sliding down his nose.

You nodded, setting your drink down on the bar behind you, readjusting on the hard stool. Phoenix and Rooster were in the middle of a heated pool game, demolishing two other uniformed aviators. Rooster had offered to take you anywhere, but you knew where he had hoped to end up and you had quickly acquiesced, changing into a pair of faux leather leggings and an off the shoulder sweater before hopping in the passenger seat of his truck and hurtling off to the Hard Deck. “Just fine, thanks.”

He leaned back against his chair, hand digging in a plastic cup of peanuts, as Phoenix sunk the final ball into the far left corner of the table. She and Rooster cheered and hugged, and you watched the faces of their opponents fall as they handed over two crisp twenties each.

“Good game,” Rooster said, patting one of the guys on the back before slipping the cash into his back pocket and coming to stand between your legs. He leaned over, one hand on either side of you gripping the wooden bar. “How you doing, baby?”

You smiled up at him. “Just fine.”

“Fine?” he repeated, shaking his head. “That won’t do.” He reached both arms behind you and pulled you up until you were hoisted into his arms. You laughed and he took a seat on the piano bench, setting you down so your legs were thrown across his.

Rooster reached for the keys and the overhead music cut out, everyone rushing to clamor around the old wooden upright piano. You wrapped one arm around his neck and he punched down on the keys and the pedals, singing loudly, shades pulled over his eyes. You looked around as everyone joined in, drunken smiling faces.

Bradley was the type of man you had been looking for. Fun, energetic, determined. Someone who knew what he wanted. Someone who could be your safe place, and also push you.

The song ended and he leaned back, sweat on his brow, a glow over his entire face. You reached over and wrapped your other hand around his neck, pulled him in for a kiss. Nearby, a few of the other aviators howled and you smirked against his lips.

“Fuck off, Coyote,” he muttered, sliding his lips to the side and you heard a laugh behind you.

You pulled apart, and Rooster smiled. “Can I get you another drink?” he asked and you nodded.

Leaning back against the wall, you watched him walk away, a loopy grin on his face as he leaned over the wooden bar, chatting casually with the bartender. Phoenix and Bob took their spots at the end of the pool table against two new competitors. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a familiar blond head weaving through the crowd.

Jake appeared at the other end of the table, and to your surprise he had Diana’s hand gripped tightly in his. The rest of the team looked up with surprise.

“Hangman,” the guy nearest to him said. They shook hands.

“Fanboy,” he replied casually, his eyes trailing around the room and locking on yours. You hadn’t spoken since the day before when you kicked him out of your house after the farmer’s market. Jake smoothed his arm over Diana’s back, nudging her forward. She looked uncomfortable in front of the group, a frown painted on her face. “Guys, this is Diana. My girlfriend.”

Bob and Coyote shot glances at you, eyes widened with surprise. Diana also locked eyes with you, and the heat of the stare made you look down at your feet. When you looked up after a beat, she was still looking. You felt an arm brush against yours, Rooster holding out a beer and you grabbed it, silently praising him for the distraction. His arm slid around your waist, large fingers rubbing against the waistband of your leggings and you looked up, smiling.

Across the table, Jake’s fingers tightened on Diana’s side.

“Um, nice to meet you,” Bob said softly, cutting through the tension. Rooster and Jake were staring at each other, neither moving or blinking.

Diana shifted. “Nice to meet you too,” she replied quietly. She looked more out of place here at the bar than she had the night you met at Jake’s house. Her tanned fingers fiddled with the sleeves of her shirt and the strap of her purse and you felt guilty that Jake was doing nothing to ease her discomfort.

“Diana,” you said and everyone’s eyes turned. “Do you want to get a drink at the bar?”

She squinted at you before Jake gave her a nod. “Sure.”

You smiled, pushing the untouched beer back into Rooster’s hand and he slid it easily over to Phoenix who took a swig. You rounded the corner of the table, brushing past Jake. Diana had already turned toward the bar, her back to Jake, and you felt his fingertips graze your back and you took a step to the right, making sure they could no longer make contact.

At the bar, you smiled at Diana, spreading your forearms out on the wooden top. “Glad you could make it,” you said.

She smiled and nodded. The bartender approached the both of you.

“Gin and tonic,” you said in unison and she cracked a smile.

“Nice choice,” Diana said and you laughed.

“Have to grow out of the vodka cranberry at some point, right?”

She nodded, turning around to sneak a peek at Jake who was deep in conversation with one of the other aviators. “How do you do it?” she asked.

“Do what?”

“Date a pilot. They’re gone all the time. And when they’re gone, it’s so fucking dangerous. You wake up every day thinking they’re not going to come back.”

You shrugged and laid your credit card down on the sticky bar top. “I don’t think there’s any way to prevent feeling the way you do. You just have to have faith they’ll come home. I’ve been worried about Jake for a decade, and he’s still here.”

“But what about Rooster. Bradley, right?” she asked, cocking her head toward the wall where Rooster stood. “What do you do when he’s gone?”

You laughed. “We’ve been on one date. Technically two if you count tonight. So don’t think I’m the best person to ask.”

She squinted. “Really? Jake told me you two were serious.”

The bartender slid your drinks back to you and you took a sip. “I’m not sure why he’d say that. Especially when he fought so hard to keep us apart.”

Her jaw settled and she flung another look at Jake. “What do you mean?”

You waved your hand in the air. “Oh, nothing. He just said Rooster wasn’t good enough for me. Something stupid like that. It’s just Jake being Jake, you know how he is.”

She grabbed her drink. “I’m going to go to the bathroom, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Sure.”

You watched as she took off toward the bathroom hallway, Jake’s eyes trailing her. You pushed off the barstool, making your way back to the pool table, and Jake followed after her.

Rooster was leaning against the wall where you had left him, and you nuzzled into his side. “That was nice of you,” he said and you shot him an appreciative look.

“Well, I try.”

His hand stroked your hair. “You’re so gorgeous,” he said, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours firmly. You put your cup down on the edge of the pool table, tossing your arms around his neck and leaning into it. Just as you felt Rooster’s tongue press against your plump lips, you felt a hand grab your shoulder.

“The fuck did you say to her?” Jake demanded, face red with anger.

You looked at him in shock. You could count on one hand the number of times Jake had gotten angry with you or gotten in your face. And it had always been when he was drunk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about?” you said calmly, backing up a step.

“To Diana. What the fuck did you say to her to make her so upset?”

You shook your head. “Nothing! Jake, I promise. She asked me how I deal with Rooster during long deployments and I said he and I had been on two dates. And she said that was funny because you had implied he and I were really serious.”

His eyes were bugging out of his head. “You had no right to say anything to her.”

Rooster’s arms came around your waist protectively. “Seresin, you need to back off. She didn’t do anything. You’re blowing this way out of proportion.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Bradshaw!” he yelled and you felt Rooster’s arms tighten around you, pull you back away from Jake. Jake spotted this, his eyes trailing all of the contact points Rooster had on you. “What the fuck are you doing with your hands on her?” he whispered menacingly. “Don’t fucking touch her.”

“Jake,” you said, stepping forward, reaching out for him. It was your natural reaction to touch him, hold him, try to calm him. He had been yours for so long you forgot he now belonged to someone else. To your surprise, his hand came up to block you, and you stumbled a bit, veering off to the left and bumping into the pool table. Rooster immediately lunged forward to check on you, and Jake grabbed his shirt, fists balled up against Rooster’s chest.

“Don’t you dare touch her,” he gritted out, pressing Bradley back against the wall. You looked up in horror, expecting Rooster to shove Jake back or knock him out. Instead, he simply stood there as Jake shook in anger. “You don’t know anything about her. You don’t deserve her.”

Rooster looked at him. He was taller by several inches, but they were a match for each other in stature otherwise. “Seresin, you need to calm down.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Go back to your girlfriend,” Rooster said. “And leave me to mine.”

You watched Jake’s arms shake and against your better judgment, you lunged forward, hitting at his arms with your hands. “Jake, stop!” you said, grabbing his forearms and pressing them down. “Look at me. Look at me!”

Finally, he pulled his green eyes off of Rooster to you. You reached up, pressed your palms to either side of his face.

“Jake,” you whispered. “Let’s go outside.”

He was rooted in place and you dropped both hands to his back, pushing him, hard, out the door. You gave Rooster an apologetic look behind you. As you steered Jake out, you saw Diana standing quietly near the bar, her face drawn in a tight frown.

Outside, you shoved Jake by the shoulders. “What the fuck was that?” you yelled and he grimaced. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you wasted? What is going on?”

“I don’t like him,” he said, licking his lips, eyes darting back toward the bar. “And I sure as hell don’t like him with you. His hands all over you. Like you’re fucking trash.”

You slapped him, hard, on the cheek and he bent from the shock of the impact. “Don’t you dare call me trash.”

“Abby,” he said, stepping forward and you took a step back. “Honey, that’s not what I meant.” He put his head into his hands and grunted. “Fuck! This is coming out all wrong.” When he looked up, you could see tears forming in his eyes.

Meanwhile, tears began to stream down your face in earnest. “What is going on with you, Jake? It’s like all of the sudden you’re a different person. What happened to the man that I knew? The Jake who would do anything for me? What happened to that person?”

He looked up at you with a frown. “Maybe he doesn’t exist anymore. Maybe I can’t watch you date Bradshaw and still be that person for you.”

“Why?” you sobbed. “Why is it so hard to watch me with Bradley? Don’t you want me to be happy?”

“All I ever wanted is for you to be happy,” he said, his voice cracking. “I care about you more than I care about myself.”

You shook your head. “That’s not true.” Your voice was small, the tears choking you. “If that were true, you’d want me to be happy. With or without Bradley.”

“He’s not good enough for you,” Jake repeated, stepping in closer, cupping your chin with his fingertips. “Sweetheart, I can’t stand to watch you get hurt.”

“You’re hurting me right now,” you said softly and you watched your words tear him in two. His eyes clouded over in an instant. You pulled away and looked toward the window. Diana and Rooster were plainly visible in the yellow glow of the bar. “You’re hurting them, too. It’s time to think about someone besides yourself, Jake. It’s time to grow up.”

You yanked open the door and let it swing back in his face.

Tag list: @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @blue-aconite @abaker74 @vir-tual @justanothermagicalsara @hiddleless @lexhalstead3 @stevieharringtongf @katiebby04 @clairedelarosa-blog @chiffondaydreams @thechillingadventuresoftayla @hopefulinlove @teenwolf01 @emptyloverofmine @zablife @lgg5989 @evans-dejong

#jake hangman fic #top gun fanfiction #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #top gun imagine #jake seresin #jake hangman imagine #top gun x reader #hangman top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #hangman x oc #jake x oc #jake seresin x oc

379 notes · View notes

helloheyhihowdyheya · 3 years ago

Text

On a Tuesday | pt. 2 of 2

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Part One Masterlist

Summary: Life had been a bit lonely – that is until Peter Parker brightened up your life. On a Tuesday. And when that friendship seems to fizzle out on a Tuesday? You’re sure the universe is playing some sort of trick on you.

Word Count: ~14,900 (i’m sorry)

Warnings: A bit of angst. Fluff. Reunited friends to lovers. Hurt/comfort. Canon level violence. Description of wounds and stitching it up. Some angst. Brief mention of throwing up. It gets just a teensy suggestive at the end. Light swearing.

A/N: Thank you so much for the love! I hope this ending fixes all the angst I caused. I really enjoyed writing these characters, and they took my story that was supposed to be short and ran with it lol. I hope you love it, and thank you for reading! I love hearing your thoughts <3

You finally saw your new house after spending too many days cramped in a box-filled car with your parents. It was bigger, but the roominess felt cold, and lonely. Carrying your things in and finding your bedroom, you hoped filling it with decorations and old stuffed animals that made the room yours would help it feel better. Like a new start, rather than an ending.

Starting at a new school halfway through high school wasn’t the easiest. Your body tried pulling in on itself like it did all those years ago spent alone in middle school. But remembering the way Peter changed that all around made up your mind – you wouldn’t let yourself fall into despair again. And you had learned you couldn’t rely on others to fix things.

Remembering Peter did hurt, and you thought about unblocking him nearly every day. But you found some students that you shared classes with, and you somehow worked up the courage to ask if you could sit with them at lunch. And as they accepted you, welcoming you with interested questions and light jokes, it really did feel like a beginning.

Through the last two years of high school, Gwen was really the only one you talked to from back home. She was set on sending letters back and forth, wanting to keep up the tradition you had accidentally started. She updated you on what was happening in school and the town in general. You smiled down at the paper, reading her words of Harry doing better. His grades were good, sure, but he carried himself differently. She rarely mentioned Peter, though when she did, it mostly talked about how little he showed up around school anymore.

And you got a few cards from Aunt May for your birthday and some holidays, her swooping handwriting gracing a love-filled card with sweet messages in them. You sent thank-you cards back to her every time and sent a card for her birthday. You would write “Hope you and Peter are doing well!” but couldn’t bring yourself to ask further about him. Similar to Gwen, May just wrote that he seemed good but was often gone from the house.

The years passed quickly as you got a bit more involved with friends and school, keeping your grades up so you could get into the colleges you were looking at. You thought about local universities, ones your new friends might go to, but the thought of returning to New York pulled at the back of your mind.

In her letters, Gwen mentioned attending Empire State University, and you couldn’t deny the way hope bloomed in your chest at the thought of being with her again. And though Flash was also planning on attending, she told you Harry was thinking about it as well. The home you were forced to leave behind called to you, and as your high school announced your name while walking across the stage, they also announced that you would be attending ESU.

Your parents had decided to make a whole trip out of it – to visit old friends after moving you in for college orientation. You all pulled up to the campus parking lot and got out, your eyes watching all the students and supervisors running around. There was barely any time to process the chaos when you heard a squeal from Gwen, your new college roommate.

She gave a crushing hug, and while her bright laugh and the genuine jokes between you two seemed exactly the same, there was still a two-year space between you. Still, none of it felt like it mattered when she pulled away and said, “I can’t believe you’re actually here, in the flesh. I’m so excited. Come check out our apartment!” Your cheeks soon started hurting from smiling so hard.

You two got an on-campus apartment, and while its walls were an ugly off-white and had too many mysterious stains, it was a home with Gwen. Your parents and her father caught up while helping you unpack. The place started to look like a real living space when a knock rang out on the apartment door.

Gwen looked at you, biting her lip as a smile grew across her face. “Oh, I invited our first real guest. I hope that’s okay!” she said while opening the door. She cackled at the way your mouth dropped open when you saw Harry standing in the hallway.

She let him in, but he only took a step before you crashed into him to give a long-overdue hug. “Harry, you’re really here. It’s been so long,” you said, trying to keep the happy tears from coming out.

“Hey, kid,” he breathed out, his cheek resting against your head.

You pulled back, admiring the way his features had grown sharper and his hair shorter since you last saw him. With a smile, you said, “You’re just in time to help us decorate. We need your expertise.”

He nodded with a wide grin, giving a fake bow and said, “Do not fret. Your hero has now arrived.”

“Wow, a hero? Are you secretly Spider-Man?” Gwen asked, sarcasm dripping in her voice and making the parents laugh.

You said, “Oh, yeah. I can’t believe I’ll actually get to see the famous New York Spider-Man, unless of course he’s in front of me right now.” You gestured to Harry, but he just lightly smacked your arm and got to helping you unpack and decorate.

Gwen had written to you about this strange masked vigilante, about the people that loved him and those that weren’t as nice about it. You had seen some big events on the news about him, and you understood the risks he made that people disliked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. He was clearly trying to help a city that desperately needed it. You were excited to actually see him in action.

With these thoughts drifting through your head, you glanced over at Gwen and Harry discussing where to put a lamp. Gwen put the lampshade on Harry’s head and laughed, their infectious energy bringing you over to join their antics.

And that’s how college began. All three of you had your own majors and clubs you were in, but at the end of the day, it would be Gwen, Harry, and you sitting down to have crappy cafeteria food together. It felt like the right balance you had been looking for back in high school, and your heart was finally content.

That was until Parent Weekend rolled around the next month. Your parents couldn’t make the long trek out, but you were just fine spending the weekend with Gwen’s dad and brothers. Harry tagged along as well, as his father had other duties to attend to. Her younger brothers were busy playing some carnival games the school had set up, and the college’s mascot was roaming around to get everyone excited for the football game that day.

You turned away from one of the concession stands after grabbing cotton candy when it felt like your breath was knocked from your chest. There, a few feet away, stood Aunt May enjoying a food stand hotdog. After taking a bite, she looked up, and your eyes connected. The world seemed to pause for a moment before you rushed over to her food in hand.

She immediately wiped her mouth and brought you in for a hug. She said, “Do my eyes deceive me? Oh my lord, is it really you?”

You nodded, your face crinkling as a smile grew over your face. “May, I can’t believe it. I’m so happy to see you.”

She squeezed your hand before asking a million questions about what has changed over the past two years, and she responded in between bites. After a few minutes, you heard Gwen calling your name, and you waved her and Harry over. “You guys will never believe who I ran into!”

As soon as May saw them, her eyes became glassy. The four of you shared a moment together, catching up with wide smiles like almost nothing had changed. Except… Gwen asked the question floating in the air. “Hey, May, what are you doing here, by the way? Peter isn’t…” She trailed off, letting May fill in the blank. You were glad you weren’t the only one unaware of what Peter was up to these days.

And you had been so caught up in seeing May again that you’d nearly forgotten all about Peter and his number you blocked so long ago. Almost like her words were far away or underwater, you heard her distantly say, “I would say I’m surprised he didn’t tell you, but he didn’t tell me you guys were here either! He made a last-minute decision to attend ESU, but I’m here to surprise him. He thinks I’m busy working, but I’m sure he’s around here somewhere…”

They continued chatting about it, but their voices didn’t really reach your ears as you turned around to look for him. Peter was here?

You searched through the crowds of students and families wearing your college’s colors, but it was noisy and the air smoky from the concession stands working overtime. You were about to turn back and tune into the conversation again when you heard that unmistakable laugh, a melodic sound your ears refused to forget.

You whipped your head around to locate the noise, and when you finally saw him, your breath escaped you. With his face tilted backward and his hand on his chest, his body shook with laughter as he walked next to another student several yards away. He wore a university t-shirt, the short sleeves showing off his arms. Did they always look like that?

It’s then you noticed how he had grown, again. But mostly, he looked fuller, more complete. Like himself again, except his glasses were gone. You had always hoped time would serve him well, letting the wounds of Uncle Ben fade a little as years passed.

You weren’t too sure about miracles or fate, but it truly felt like the clouds parted to shine a light down on his ruffled hair when he looked forward again. The sun floated down on his skin and turned his dark eyes into the warmest brown you had ever seen as they looked at you. His steps stuttered for a second before he stopped moving completely. You barely noticed his friend also stopping, looking confused at Peter, before you handed Gwen your cotton candy, and your legs began moving.

You snaked between groups of people, and he did the same, not letting anyone slow you down. Harry may have been calling your name as you left, but you didn’t look back or answer, not when Peter was mere feet away from you. You squeezed past another person before…

It was him, standing right in front of you, his chest heaving up and down.

It was only a heartbeat or two of looking at him, really looking, before you lunged at him to wrap him in a squeezing hug, his arms holding so tight to your body like he would never let go again. The flaming anger of his absence in your life was still lit in your stomach, but the light fizzled just a little when he whispered, “You’re here, you’re here,” over and over again.

He kept his hands wrapped around your arms when pulling back, his eyes looking you up and down as if he didn’t believe it was really you. You wanted to look away, just for a second to escape his intense gaze, but you couldn’t. He was here, and that was what mattered.

“Hi,” he breathed out, a permanent grin plastered on his face.

“Hey.”

“It’s you.” “It’s me. And, it’s you,” you laughed back, your hands gesturing up and down.

“Wow, I…” he started but cleared his throat. “I should introduce you to my friend,” he said while turning around, but the guy he was walking with was nowhere to be found. “I guess he left.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare off your friends.” It was mostly true, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel too guilty as you two walked back shoulder-to-shoulder to May, Gwen, and Harry. The way his skin brushed against yours felt foreign and like home at the same time, like your body discovering an old song again that brought back so many memories.

You heard May’s voice say, “Oh, that’s where she ran off to. She found the missing boy.”

A laugh tumbled from your mouth, and Gwen and Harry turned to look at you two. Harry opened his arms and patted Peter’s back, the two boys sharing a moment. When Peter finally turned to Gwen, she had her mouth pressed tight.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, how could you not tell us you were coming to ESU?” she asked, her arms crossed over her chest. He scratched the back of his neck and mumbled some excuse, but she just laughed and welcomed him in after a second.

And you all then bombarded him, asking him where he lived, what his major was, where he’d been lately, and about his friends on campus. He easily answered all of them, except for a vague response as to why he’d been absent all the time, but you had given up on getting that out of him a while ago.

“I saw that MJ went to some out-of-state university. What was the name of it again?” Harry asked.

You saw Aunt May’s eyes cast downward as Peter let out a sharp sigh. “It was a college down in Florida, but we, um, we’re not together anymore,” he said, and your heart felt a bit weak at the way he got that glazed-over look again.

“Oh, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to…” Harry trailed off, giving Peter a sympathetic look. Gwen also offered an apology, resting her hand on his arm.

He waved him off, “It’s okay. Long-distance isn’t really my deal.”

You all stood there, and you couldn’t stand the silence that no longer felt easy and comfortable. “Well, I hope cotton candy is still your deal. It was always your favorite,” you said and offered it to him.

A simple, grateful smile passed over his face, and he ripped off a piece, dropping it into his mouth. He thanked you and said, “I’m sure your guys’ dating lives were much more successful than mine.” He gave a small laugh, and you were sure he meant well, but it just made your heart ache even more.

Harry and Gwen talked about the few people they’d dated over the years. You stood there with your attention on them but stayed quiet yourself. As Peter glanced toward you, you were sure he noticed your silence. You hadn’t found anyone out West that your heart was set on, no one there to make you smile the way…

Gwen interrupted your train of thinking and asked you about what coffee shop you all should make your hangout spot. Making small talk with her and Harry, you were thankful for her distraction, both from the dating question and from your thoughts.

You caught a glimpse of May making silent faces at Peter during the conversation, her eyes widening and mouthing something. When the correct cafe was chosen, the unoriginally named Coffee Bean near campus, Peter cleared his throat and offered, “Hey, my roommates and I got a crappy projector a couple of weeks ago, if we wanted to have a movie night or something.”

Certain your wide grin looked a bit cheesy but not caring one bit, you readily accepted, excited for a classic movie night with your childhood friends again. Gwen and Harry agreed as well, and this was where you’d usually lose hope that it would actually happen, but Peter got out his phone to look at his calendar. Right then and there, the four of you made concrete plans for next Friday night.

Glancing over to the side, you saw May looking pleased, and you knew your face couldn’t look too far off. The five of you spent most of the day together, watching the football game but really paying more attention to catching up with each other. As the day came to an end, their laughs seared into your brain once again, the group split up again as May and Gwen’s family returned home, and Harry and Peter walked back to their own apartments.

Making your way back home, you strolled with Gwen arm in arm, and your steps almost felt a bit lighter. When the door shut behind you, you said to her, “I really can’t believe he’s here.”

“I know, right? He seems like he’s pretty happy. I’m so glad the gang's back together,” she responded, taking her shoes off and putting away her things.

“It’s so nice to talk to him,” you said, taking your shoes off as well. With a sigh, you muttered, “I hadn’t heard from him in so long, though that’s my own doing, really.”

“What do you mean?”

You picked at the edge of your nails, blowing out a long breath. “I blocked him when I left two years ago and didn’t tell anyone. It’s just… It hurt being let down by him all the time, and I said my goodbye in the letter. I know it was naive to come back here and not expect to see him, but I didn’t plan on attending the same school as him!”

She had been watching you as you paced back and forth and nodded, pursing her lips. “Well, if we’re going to all be friends again, you’re going to have to clear the air with him.”

“I know,” you groaned, putting your head in your hands. You felt bad, but he had to have known why you did it. He didn’t even show up to say goodbye and always blew you off. Later that night, curled in your bed and blankets, you finally unblocked his number with a deep breath out.

Part of you felt ready to talk to him about this and move past it, start a new era together. That part saw the way his eyes lit up when they locked on yours; it remembered how being with him felt like coming home. And as you scrolled through texts you had forced yourself to forget, the other part of you came back screaming and unwilling to be silenced. Nearly every other text was him saying he couldn’t make it to lunch or he had to skip out on plans. That part of you rolled its eyes at old jokes and memories you wanted to smile at.

Over the next week leading up to Friday, you went back and forth in your mind on what you would say to Peter. Your heart leapt into your throat every time you saw his oh-so-familiar face on campus, loving the way he smiled the second he saw you. Then, as soon as he passed, your pounding heart hardened – why couldn’t he have made this kind of effort years ago? Though you did realize he was so young then and still recovering from Uncle Ben’s murder, something you couldn’t imagine how to cope with.

But he could’ve at least talked to you. You nearly wanted to rip your hair out at this back and forth your mind went through. By the time Friday rolled around, you’d decided on staying true to your hurt feelings while being open-minded to what he had to say – determined to shoot for the middle. You just hoped your aim was good enough.

You thought you could pull him to the side before the night started, ripping off the bandaid with a quick conversation before restarting your friendship. But when you arrived with Gwen and Peter swung open that door, his warm eyes taking you in, your mind went quiet. Everything you’d planned to say went out the window as Gwen pulled you in by your arm, your feet feeling a bit stuck under Peter’s gaze. Harry, already sat on a plush bean bag chair, yelled, “Hey! Join the party!”

The apartment smelled of fresh popcorn, and Peter had set out a variety of snacks and drinks. You cautiously grabbed some provisions, voice quiet while the rest caught up before sitting down in the middle of the couch. Gwen sat on one side of you, Peter on the other.

You tightened your legs together, trying to shield yourself a bit from his body, too aware of the possibility of your knee touching his and the conversation you planned to have with him soon weighing over you. You wondered if this heavy rain cloud constantly over you was over him too – if he had thought much about you these past two years.

But once everyone was settled, the room dark and ready for the movie… the four of you ended up spending almost an hour just talking and joking. You reminisced about your favorite memories, finding your muscles loosening a bit as Harry brought up the story of you guys going to the skatepark for the first time.

Peter doubled over in fits of laughter and ragged breaths, and you couldn’t help but smile along with him. As he told the story, it slowly felt easier to sit next to him again. He pointed toward you and Gwen, saying, “I forced you to come to the skatepark and finally learn, but you both ended up falling so many times, I had to give you piggyback rides back to the car.”

Giggling, you added, “And I wanted you to skate with me on your back, but you wouldn’t!”

“You would’ve never forgiven me for eating shit and landing on you,” he said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eyes.

Gwen, with her typical guffaw, said, “Then we made Peter buy us all ice cream to make up for the trauma he put us through.” She shook her head, “I’m still keeping my promise to never touch a skateboard again.”

After the laughter died down and too many stories were half-told before switching to the next, the popcorn bowl laid empty, and your ribs hurt from laughing so hard. Finally, you asked, “So, are we actually going to watch a movie?” before grabbing the remote. They agreed, but you passed over countless options, none of which could get all four of you to say yes to.

“Man, was it always this hard to pick a movie with you guys?” Harry asked, his legs laying over one side of the armrest, his head laying on the other.

Gwen responded, “No, because we were tweens and watched whatever movie was on cable at the time.” You nodded, a small grin appearing at remembering. Things sure did feel simpler then.

No one chose anything, so you said, “Okay, let’s just go with a classic. Who’s up for Ferris Bueller’s Day Off?”

You all had seen it before, but still, everyone raised their hands, and you quickly pressed play before going to refill the large bowl with more popcorn. Ferris’s incredible opening monologue played when you sat back down, sending a few kernels flying. The four of you laughed at the aloof school secretary scenes and aww’d at Cameron’s sad pool scene. A heart-warming movie night needed a heart-warming movie, and it delivered.

And it feel just right, except for the goosebumps slowly littering your arms and legs, the A/C blowing onto your skin. Before you knew it, a soft blanket was placed on your lap, and you looked to your side to see Peter spreading it out on top of you. He whispered, “You seemed cold,” as he tucked in the ends around your legs. He left it at that as he turned back to the TV, and you hoped he didn’t see your warm cheeks despite your cold body.

Between the late hour and the comfy blanket, you had started nodding off near the end of the movie. Your eyelids kept opening and shutting during Ferris’s iconic scene of him running home before his family arrived. It was a classic, but things felt good again, and before you knew it, your body gave way to sleep.

You weren’t sure how long you had been out when your eyes blearily blinked open. The world looked fuzzy, and there was just a soft glow from the TV to light up the room. The warm blanket made you want to snuggle in further and fall back asleep, but your “pillow” shifted slightly beneath you. With a stiff neck, you raised your head and squinted to see what was disturbing your comfortable sleep.

But it wasn’t a pillow. Peter looked down at you, his soft eyes humming with kindness. His hand came up to your face, rubbing a thumb across your cheek before coming away with a stray strand of hair. You already missed the warmth of his touch, but the way he looked back at you was enough.

You would have stared at him forever until you realized you had fallen asleep on his shoulder, and eyeing his shirt, you saw that there was a small wet spot. You whipped your head around to find the TV was playing some sitcom on mute, but captions on, and Harry and Gwen weren’t in their spots anymore.

Turning back to Peter and bringing your hands to your face, you said, “I’m so sorry. I can wash your shirt if you want. I didn’t even realize I’d fallen asleep…”

He tilted his head slightly and smiled. “You don’t have to wash my clothes. We’re at college now. I’ve had much worse on me,” he said, laughing at the way you crinkled your nose at his words. “Besides, it can be an equal trade for how adorable you looked while sleeping. Even when snoring like a trucker.”

“Hey! I do not snore like a trucker, thank you very much,” you declared, crossing your arms and hoping it somehow hid your warm cheeks and thoughts playing catch-up. Did he really think you were adorable while drooling on him? “Anyway, where did Harry and Gwen go?”

He let out a long yawn, his words coming out slow and muddled, “Oh, they went home a bit ago. It’s well past midnight.” “I was asleep for that long…?” you shook your head. You wanted to curse how comfortable Peter made you, how easy it was for him to break down these walls you had built, but as you watched the glow from the TV flicker across his face, illuminating every freckle he had, you couldn’t hate him for the way he made you feel. Though you found a soft dislike for the way your body always seemed to come back to his, like a satellite with no say in what it was programmed to revolve around.

As all of this ran through your head, Peter rested his chin on his knee, watching the way your eyes flicked back and forth, your lips moving to mouth some of the words you were thinking. It wasn’t until he called your name a few times that you looked up at him. He asked, “Are you okay?”

The sigh you slowly let out turned into a groan as you knew it had to be in this moment. It was just you two. “Peter, are we okay?” You stood up, unable to look at him or look at him looking at you while saying this. Your feet brushed against the itchy rug he had while pacing back and forth. “I just mean, there’s two years between us missing. I know it’s partly my fault, and I’m partly sorry, but I feel like there’s so much that just went unsaid.”

As the last words left your mouth, you turned back toward him to see he was now sitting cross-legged on the couch, fully alert. He brushed his hair back and blew out a breath. “Uh, yeah. I assumed we’d have this talk at some point; guess I wasn’t expecting it right after you drooled on me.” And he smiled when that got a small giggle out of you.

He continued, his smile quickly disappearing, “I’m assuming you blocked my number not too long after you left.” If he blinked, he would’ve missed the tiny nod you gave him or the way your eyes unfocused for a second. “Being honest with you… I called every day for weeks, hell, probably a couple of months. Texted you for even longer. I read your letter too late, just an hour too late,” he said, balling his hands up and pushing them against his forehead. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been there.”

A tightness welled up in your chest, creeping up your throat as tears bubbled at the corner of your eyes. “God, I wish you had been there. I thought about what I’d say to you the whole car ride. How I’d finally give you a piece of my mind when we saw each other again…” You trailed off, head angling toward the ground.

“You thought about seeing me again?” he wondered, his body shifting forward ever so slightly, closer to you.

You scoffed. “Every lanky, brown-haired boy that came around, I just saw you for half a second,” you breathed out, fingers picking at the hem of your shirt.

His palms rubbed repeatedly against his thighs. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he said, letting out a long breath. He raised his hands up, his palms toward you in a surrendering position. “Let me hear the speech. I deserve every word you have to say.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head. “I needed that time apart from you, but that’s the thing. Being away and now having you here, I don’t want to scream at you anymore. I just…” you trailed off, about to explain why you did what you did, but he nodded.

“I know. It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said, standing up from the couch to come to you, but you placed a hand out in front of you.

“No, Peter,” you said, taking a step back. “I really want to say you don’t know – that you have no clue – but maybe you do. I just, if we’re going to try again, I need you to do better this time around. Please,” you pleaded, your outstretched hand shaking.

His face flashed some sort of look you couldn’t decipher, but your racing mind didn’t help you in figuring it out. A mix of raised eyebrows, jaw slightly dropping, and eyes blinking just a bit too hard had your heart breaking. He looked down and sighed, “You’re right. I…” Pressing his mouth tight, he met your eyes for a brief second and then looked around the room. “I can’t guarantee I’ll be perfect, but I will be better. I swear.”

His words started out quiet but grew as he talked. “As long as you promise to not close yourself off and shut us out. Deal?” he asked, reaching a tentative arm out toward you.

You studied his fingers just breaths away from yours. Maybe it resembled the Creation of Adam painting, their outstretched hands nearly touching. Or maybe it looked more like a truce, a helping hand to pull you up and out… again. You focused on his rough skin as you slid your palm against his and grasped it, squeezing his hand tight and weakly shaking it. You whispered, “Deal.”

The second you said it, he pulled your arm, bringing your body close to his in one swift movement. As a squeak escaped your mouth, his arms wrapped around you, your bodies pressed tight together. “Is this okay?” he asked.

It felt strange, being so close to him again. But you couldn’t deny how much the familiar warmth of his body felt like home, and you nodded against him. He swayed with you on that ugly rug in the early morning even though you knew he was tired, and a few tears slid down your cheeks.

If he had asked why you were crying, you doubt you could explain it, but he didn’t ask. He didn’t have to. You weren’t sure how long had passed like that, just letting his breaths raise his chest up and down against you, before a laugh came out of your mouth. He pulled back to look at you, asking, “What is it?”

You wiped your eyes with the back of your arm and said, “I’ve now soiled your shirt twice. Ugh, you make me a mess.”

“Um, pretty sure you're the one that made me a mess.”

“Oh, hush,” you said. And it was so nice to feel the rumble of his laugh so close against you as you curled into him again.

“Stay the night?” he asked, and he must’ve felt the way your heart jumped into your throat or how your stomach twisted in on itself because he immediately followed up with, “It’s just pretty late to walk back now. You can take my bed if you want. Or– Or the couch!”

“I can take the couch as long as I get to have that blanket.” The thought of sharing the bed with him played in the back of your mind, how close you two would finally be. But you had just vomited your feelings at him and cried on him, and you needed time to let your heart settle down.

“Of course,” he said, reassuring you that he’d leave the door open a crack in case you wanted to switch, and he began bringing out pillows, sheets, and extra pajamas in your size (though you wanted to question why he had them, they smelled just like him, so you didn’t complain). You thanked him, and when you had everything tucked into the corners and he had fluffed the pillow a bit roughly for your amusement, Peter stood just outside his room, rocking back and forth on his heels.

He placed his hand on the doorknob and stared at you. With a gentle smile, he asked in a bare whisper, “Friends again?”

Holding the pajamas close to your chest, you nodded, the edges of your eyes crinkling. “Friends again.”

His grin turned toothy and wide before wishing you a good night and walking into his room, leaving it open a few inches. You padded to the bathroom to change and get ready before snuggling into the comfortable couch. Maybe it was because Peter wasn’t next to you or because of the conversation, but your thoughts kept you from relaxing.

He really called you sweetheart… Did he usually do that to people? You didn’t think so, but it’d been two years. Maybe he’d changed. And he seemed really certain he would keep his promise this time, but how much can someone actually change? Your brain ran through a million scenarios of what might come from this night, and slowly, your mind tired itself out. You laid there on his couch, under his blanket, in his pajamas, next to him on the other side of the wall. Yeah, something had definitely changed between you two, and as you slipped into sleep, you hoped it was for the better.

You never understood those rom-coms where the actors woke up in the morning with perfect hair and their mind immediately awake. Your first moments of waking up involved your face scrunching tight and your body curling even tighter into the sheets as small crashing noises and muffled grumbling came from somewhere. Sunlight shined through the curtainless window right into your eyes, and your body felt out of place wherever you were, but it felt too early to care.

A floorboard creaking rang out into the room, and with resistant muscles, you turned around to face the back of the couch, pulling the blanket over your head. Distantly, you heard the sound of a door closing and the shower running. Just as your body relaxed again after a few minutes, the sound of something dropping reverberated through the whole apartment. With a sigh, you were sure the downstairs neighbor didn’t appreciate it and finally sat up.

Your hands came up to rub the sleep from your eyes, blurring your vision for a few seconds. Recognizing the room, all the memories waltzed back into your mind, your stomach fluttering for a second. When you heard the shower shut off, you called out, “Peter?”

There was another crash and a “Shit!” that was certainly Peter. His voice responded faintly, “Good morning! I, um, was just showering cause I worked out. I’ll be out in a second!”

You told him, “Okay, just don’t hog the bathroom too long!” You stood up, shuffling toward the kitchen for breakfast. Thoughts ran through your head while rummaging through the fridge and cupboards; he wasn’t the kind to squeeze in an early morning workout, especially after a late night. But he did look more… filled out than the last time you’d seen him. Maybe he had changed

Though, it didn’t seem he was that different because you couldn’t find much besides energy drinks and expired food. A partially crushed box of cereal sat in the back, but they didn’t have any milk. You stuck your head back in the fridge to double check when you heard hurried steps walk past behind you.

Standing back up and turning around, you said, “Peter, do you even own actual food or–” The door to Peter’s room slammed shut with a bang, and the bathroom door was now open with steam trickling out of it.

“Ah, didn’t mean to close it that hard! Sorry, just getting dressed,” he said with more frantic rustling coming from his room. “And no, we don’t really have food.”

You gave a small smile and shoved your hand into the box, pulling out a handful of cereal to eat. Looking around the apartment, you suddenly felt determined to help him with this place… somehow. Harry’s apartment didn’t look this much like a bachelor pad. You’d have to talk to him and Gwen about sprucing up Peter’s place, and supplying his kitchen.

Finally, the door to his bedroom opened up. Seeing Peter’s soft grin in the morning light felt different, like there was something to say — like the air itself and the small pieces of dust floating through it were yelling for something. He looked at you, laughing as your hand shoved back into the box. You raised your eyebrows at him, silently asking, “What’s so funny?” but he just weakly shook his head. “Those pajamas suit you well.”

“Suit me well?” you laughed. “What, am I a businessman trying on a new suit?”

He shuffled over and grabbed the box from you, leaving you with a hand clumping more cereal, a few pieces falling onto the floor. He shoved an excessive amount of cereal into his mouth while saying, “You know, I might’ve even said they looked cute on you. But you were sassy, so now you get treated like a businessman: ‘Give me a return on investment by 5 pm! Run it up the flagpole if you have to!’” he shouted, raising his finger into the air while giving a nearly perfect impression of J. Jonah Jameson, which left you bent over laughing.

“Analyze the company’s big data… I think. I’ve never taken a business class,” he finished, shrugging his shoulders before cramming more cereal into his mouth.

“Peter, I think you’re the most ridiculous person I have ever met,” you said and looked into his eyes, unable to contain the smile he etched on your face. “But I’ll take the compliment.”

With a matching grin, you two went and sat in the living room, relaxing and catching up for a bit longer. You threw bits of cereal back and forth to each other, trying to catch it in your mouths. After he had effortlessly caught 15 in a row, you got up grumbling about him rigging the game and walked to the bathroom to change clothes. You folded the pajamas neatly back in a pile and helped clean up the living room when you got back out.

As you finished tidying the room and putting on your shoes, you blew out a breath and walked to the door. “Okay, well, as much as I ‘love’ dry cereal for breakfast and wearing yesterday’s clothes, I’m going to head back. Thank you again for everything,” you said and watched him walk over to you.

“Oh, yeah. No problem. Do you need me to walk you back?” he asked.

But you weren’t really listening to his question, instead watching his steps. “Hey, are you okay? It looks like you’re limping a bit.”

He stopped in his tracks, looking down at his feet and sweatpants-covered legs. “Um, that’s just from the workout. Misstepped and hurt my ankle a bit, you know? Nothing too major,” he said, his hand rubbing up and down his forearm. “Is that a no then?” Your eyes widened before saying, “Oh, right. No, it’s not too far of a walk. I’ll see you around. And rest up, okay?”

When he nodded and his face softened, his gaze never leaving you, you were happy to escape out the door. Had he always looked at you like that? You let out a long sigh while walking down the hall, your fraying nerves calming down with each step back to your apartment.

Gwen had squeezed your hands when you told her how the conversation went, happy for the two of you and excited to have the friend group back. The four of you went to the campus cafeteria most days, ordering takeout other nights and watching more movies, playing games, or reminiscing on all the great memories shared between you.

Some days, it was only three or two of you – classes, work, and projects taking up everyone’s time. Peter made an effort to show up, and you kept to your promise of not shutting them out anymore, slowly communicating with them more and finding some independence in making friends from other classes.

On days Peter was altogether too busy, you’d offer to bring coffee, snacks, or a late dinner to him. The guy had received a science scholarship for ESU and had already completed beginner courses in biology, chemistry, and physics while in high school, easily landing him a position as a teacher’s assistant.

When Peter’s TA responsibilities filled up his lunch hour in between labs and classes, it quickly became your favorite time to bring him something, usually a toasted bagel and coffee with way too much caffeine. It meant you had to walk through the stuffy science building, but it also meant you got to stand at the open classroom door and watch him teach the class.

The first time you did this, you leaned on the doorway as he walked around a skeleton model at the front of the room. He pointed out different joints, explaining how the tendons connected the bones and allowed the body to move. Grabbing its hand, he spun it around, pretending to dance with it. Glancing at the students, you saw their quiet laughs and genuine interest as he went into great detail about how every part of your body worked together to make this possible.

Watching him in his element, his mind so fully present in what he was doing, made your heart flutter a little. You couldn’t help but love how attentive he was to each and every one of them… or love the way his arms and hands flexed when he gestured every which way. You weren’t sure if you had felt this way about Peter back in high school, but you chewed on your lip at the thought of some schoolgirl crush developing.

The thought solidified and sunk deep into your stomach when he finally turned your way, noticing the bag you held for him. The smile that grew on his face made a grin of your own appear. “Ah, my lunch has arrived…” he said, pointing toward you. “But first, class, what three bones make up the shoulder she’s using to lean on?”

You peered at the students, mouth feeling a bit dry at the sudden attention he’d put on you. A student toward the back raised their hand, answering, “The clavicle, scapula, and… humerus?”

Peter clapped his hands together, making you jump a little. “Correct! Now,” he said, walking over to you. He took the bagel from your grasp, tossing it perfectly onto his desk, and grabbed your hand in his. “Who can tell me what three main types of bones are in the hand?” he asked while spinning you around just as he did with the skeleton.

You heard a student give some sort of answer that was probably correct, but your eyes were stuck on Peter’s hand slipping away from yours far too soon. Had you not been twirling in front of a class of students, you would have held on tighter and pulled back against him. Instead, you walked back to the door, waving goodbye as Peter said, “Thank you – I’ll pay you back!”

His voice carried through the hallway as he got back to human anatomy with the class. You were sure you looked like some giddy teenager skipping across the floor, but you couldn’t help how good it felt to smile because of Peter again. Your hand was still hot from his touch, and you held it close, feeling it warm against your chest.

You kept these thoughts to yourself, not sure enough of them yet to tell Gwen. Though, that didn’t stop you from running through them again and again, especially when he was busy. You found yourself lost in replaying these conversations with him when walking downtown with Gwen and Harry one afternoon.

You had gone out to eat at a new diner, but commotion and people hurrying past you drew you toward a nearby street. As you turned the corner, you couldn’t believe the flash of red and blue you saw – your eyes finally saw the New York vigilante swinging above you. The three of you managed to catch a glimpse of Spider-Man flying through the air and over buildings to get to a car crash. You ran to catch up to him, watching the way he ripped open doors and grabbed people out, rushing them away from the crumpled vehicles.

You admired how he dove head first into the danger, risking himself for people he didn’t even know. Other people around you clapped and hollered as everyone laid safe. The excitement swelled in your chest and you couldn’t help but shout, “Way to go, Spider-Man!” with a wide grin.

It slowly dissolved from your face when his head whipped around and he looked at you three. You stopped clapping, your hands still resting against each other as the ground began shaking beneath your feet. Your arms flew out to hold onto Harry’s arm to keep your balance, but it didn’t help as a crash rang out through the streets, and you all fell to your hands and knees. Debris fell from above, and the unknown destruction sounded muffled against your ears.

Cutting through the shrill ringing came a voice shouting to run, hide, something. There he was. Inches from your face was Spider-Man lifting you up and guiding you away from whatever caused the destruction. You grabbed Harry and Gwen’s hands and ran in the opposite direction from the car wreck. Glancing back one more time before rounding the corner, you spotted the superhero turning to fight a monstrous lizard crawling on a nearby building.

Campus thankfully wasn’t far away, so you ran back to your apartment with heaving chests. Gwen locked the door behind you, which you all knew wouldn’t do much against a supervillain, but it still felt better than nothing. As soon as you checked over each other for any injuries, you fished your phone from your pocket and called Peter, your heart beating fast but not from running.

The phone rang, your feet pacing back and forth, back and forth. The phone kept ringing. You paced even faster. You groaned, saying, “It went to voicemail.” Your eyes caught the way Harry ran a hand through his hair once, twice, three times and the way Gwen worried her lip with her teeth as she turned on the news.

A second later, your phone buzzed, nearly making you drop it as your muscles tensed. It was a text from Peter. “Oh, okay, guys. Peter just texted,” you said, letting out a deep sigh as you scanned his message. “Turns out he’s TA’ing a class and can’t talk. Thank goodness.” You eyed your friends, and maybe it was in your head, but your body felt lighter, the air feeling easier to breathe.

It took a couple days for things to feel normal again, the news of the giant lizard man attacking the city everywhere, but thankfully Spider-Man was there to stop him for now. And you wished you could say things went back to normal with Peter as well, but your wary mind couldn’t help but notice his increasing absences since that day. Every missed movie night and unreturned call from him ate away at you.

You saw him here and there, still dropping off food to him while he worked late in the lab. But most of the smiles he caused were over text, the bright light of your phone not nearly as warm as him. Coffee Bean did officially become guys’ hangout, but the baristas working there really only learned three of your names, as Peter rarely showed. Most of the conversations you had with him included him updating that he was okay when one of you frantically called him during another attack near campus.

You invited him to on-campus events. To movie nights. To study sessions. To anything. You really tried to not shut him out or bottle up inside, but there was only so much you could express over text. The three of you planned to say something the next time he was around… but that’d require him showing up for more than a rushed “Hello! Gotta go!” as he ran past.

Wanting to keep your promise, you at least aired your concerns with Gwen and Harry, knowing that they missed his presence too. Selfishly, you wanted him back because you loved seeing him, but part of it was a growing worry festering in your chest. A couple times when you tried to surprise him with food while he was teaching, he hadn’t been in the class when he said he was. None of you could figure out where he went.

One morning, you had felt jaded again, angry that Peter was slipping away once more – even after his promise. You’d say it happened right before your eyes, but he was rarely in front of you anymore. It felt distant, as cold as the blanket of snow built up in these cold months. Your fingers typed a long paragraph to him, using every bit of strength to pry your arms open and keep yourself from closing in on themselves. It was a rambling message full of fragment sentences and thoughts, but still, it was kind. Anger trickled down to your fingertips, but you would not let that spread into the words you wrote him and wouldn’t let them go near that block button either. More than anything, you wanted to pry him open, look him in the eyes to ask what had changed, what he wasn’t telling you.

That afternoon during one of your classes, he sent a short text. All it said was, “Sorry. Will make it up to you. Be there tonight”

A deep breath filled your lungs, pushing in so deep it began to hurt before forcing it all out in one go. You read it again and again, but the words didn’t somehow magically change by the tenth read-through. What time? Should you invite Harry over? Gwen was gone for the week visiting home – should you tell her Peter’s finally coming over?

These thoughts ran through your head, but you left his message as it was. After class, you tried working on homework, though your mind wanted to focus on anything else. Worksheets were sloppily finished, notes on readings sparse, and essays were just mere outlines, unable to put your everything into anything with the thought of Peter hovering above you. You made dinner somewhere in there while waiting, “accidentally” making enough for two in case he came around. But as the sun dipped below the city’s skyline and bled out beautiful colors among the clouds, and the food grew cold, he was nowhere to be seen. Again.

Unable to spend much more time concentrating on school, you spent the evening scrolling through your phone, scrolling through Netflix, scrolling through channels hoping to find something to catch your attention. The news popped up during your searching. It showed breaking live footage of another battle between Spider-Man and the monster he’d been facing, The Lizard. Knowing Gwen was far away and safe, you texted Peter and Harry for their update. Harry quickly answered, saying he was hanging out with his roommate in his apartment. Peter never answered.

You reassured yourself this was how he usually was lately and that he was okay. The phone laid next to your lap in case he texted back as you watched a recent scene of the events: Spider-Man being tossed against a building, his body smashing through brick and window with a loud crash and screams ringing in the background.

Everything in you winced at the footage, your shoulders leaning forward as you inched to the edge of the seat, waiting with bated breath for him to reappear. A web shot from the hole and wrapped itself around the monster, Spider-Man flying out with a ripped suit and limping movements. He landed one hit after another. They went back and forth, and as your leg began shaking more and your palms felt sweatier, you had to turn the TV off before it freaked you out too much.

You tried to focus on something else, but as your thoughts meandered from the news, they instead drifted back to Peter. The promise you made yourself in the car years ago to never let him make you feel this way again was splintering into cracks, threatening to break altogether. You dug your nails into your palm, leaving crescent marks into your skin. In the back of your mind, you thought of Aunt May. What would she do right now? With that, you got up, making your way to the kitchen for a late-night snack and distraction.

The apartment soon filled with pans clanging, and billowing clouds of flour puffed into the air. Soon, after everything was mixed, you poured the batter into a pan, the bubbling and sizzling wafting to your ears. The chaos of the kitchen almost made you miss a knocking sound. It wasn’t until you heard your name frantically called that you realized it was Peter’s voice. Glancing at the clock, you saw how late it’d gotten. With a sigh, trying not to burn the place down, you called out, “Peter, I don’t really want to talk right now.”

The tapping grew louder, and you realized he was knocking against your window. You looked toward it, seeing a shadowy figure lying against the glass. Quickly removing the pan from the stove and turning it off, you ran to the fire escape. The second you saw through the reflection, your feet stumbled below you, your body coming to an abrupt stop. Fingers wrapped in red and blue pulled the window open before he nearly flopped inside your apartment. A duffle bag fell with him, a pair of high tops tied together around the straps by their shoelaces.

A rush of cold air drifted into the apartment while he laid on the floor, his hands rising up and down on his chest – a chest covered by Spider-Man’s logo. His mask was off, and there was no mistaking that tangled mess of hair. He let out a small laugh, then groaned at movement. “Are you making wheat cakes?”

“Peter… I,” you started, your mouth not keeping up with your racing mind.

“I am starving. Could you bring me some? And maybe some syrup,” he coughed out, lolling his head to the side with deep breaths. Snowflakes that had been resting on him shimmered to the floor when he turned.

“Are you okay?” You winced, your eyes shutting for a moment before saying, “Sorry, dumb question. Should I grab the first aid kit?”

He lifted himself onto his elbow, turning to look at you. “Uh, yeah. That’d probably be a good idea, after bringing some wheat cakes first, though.”

Your legs moved under you to first close the window to keep him warm and safe, then toward the bathroom to grab all the supplies. Your brain simply went through a checklist of everything you desperately needed, leaving no room for questioning what Peter had just unveiled to you. You passed the kitchen on the way back, quickly grabbing a plate of wheat cakes as you sprinted by. Maybe it would help him heal and restore his energy, or maybe you just knew it’d make him happy.

He shoved his bag to the side and crawled up onto the couch, remembering to grab a blanket and put it under him to not damage the couch. With stiff arms, he unclasped the suit top from the bottoms, trying to rid the tight shirt from his body. You came back, setting the kit and plate on the table to help him take it off. He lifted his upper half, letting you slowly pull it up his back and over his head.

A hard swallow forced itself down your throat as you saw him. Deep purple bruises bloomed all along his body, especially his ribs. A long gash curled from his stomach and around to his lower back. As you let out a shaky breath, Peter asked, “That bad, huh?”

“Well, it’s not great,” you said, your eyes never leaving the wound. “Do you know how to stitch yourself up?”

His eyes looked to yours, weakly blinking. “Yeah, but I’m not sure–”

“Can you teach me? Coach me through it, and I’ll stitch this thing closed for you.” You opened up the kit, so god damn thankful Gwen got one with suturing supplies – encouraged by her police officer father.

Before doing anything else, you sanitized your hands and grabbed a washcloth, running it under water with a little bit of soap. You brought it back to him, looking at his pained face and wanting to cry. You instead sucked in a breath and said, “I’ll help shift you onto your side. Ready?”

He nodded, digging his teeth into his lip as the two of you maneuvered him on his side to face you, the wound exposed upward to the heavens. You gave him one hand to hold onto yours and began dabbing the washcloth on the wound to clean it out.

He seethed, every breath in or out sharp and abrupt. “I’m so sorry. I’m almost done with this part,” you told him.

You felt his thumb rub your hand. Your eyes flicked to his for a moment as he repeated, “It’s okay, it’s okay” every time you touched the cloth to his skin.

Blinking a few times, you shook your head. He was comforting you? And he’s Spider-Man? Your mind was reeling, but you just turned back to the first aid kit, pulling away from him.

Peter pointed to the needle you needed, and you threaded it. With shaking fingers, he pointed to where you should insert the needle, where it should exit, and how to tie off the knot.

You nodded, trying to memorize every instruction he told you. Still, while staring at the cut and shivering at the thought of the claws that caused it, your movements felt uncertain. You moved the needle toward his skin, but your hands were uneven and unable to keep still. As you closed your eyes and let out a long breath, everything felt like it was crumbling, and it was a Monday night. You couldn’t believe this disaster wasn’t on Tuesday.

“Peter, wait, now I’m not sure. This is insane. You’ve been gored by a lizard man! I don’t have the necessary medical training to heal Spider-Man! I’m going to throw up, or pass out. I’m not sure which. I…”

Your rambling trailed off as you felt Peter’s hand close around yours. He squeezed it and moved it toward the starting stitch. “Look at me,” he rasped. Any weakness he seemed to have disappeared when your eyes connected, a tired smile gracing his face. “I’m right here. You’re doing great.”

“I could accidentally kill you!”

“You’re not going to kill me. Please, just do it quickly,” he pleaded.

You brought your hands away from his, pushing the back of them against your head with your eyes squeezed shut tight. Pounding loud in your chest, your heart thrummed through your whole body, all the way to your vibrating fingers. Tears began to peak at the edges of your eyes as you said, “I shouldn’t be the one doing this. Why not go to Harry? Or May? Oh, I wish she were here. I’m not good enough to do this, Pe–”

His hands grabbed the sides of your face, forcing you to look at him. “I love you.”

Your eyes opened to find him staring at – into – you, no joking or laughing anywhere on his face. Instead of a million thoughts bouncing around in your brain, it settled into nothing as you studied the specks in his warm eyes. You weren’t sure if your heart was speeding up or slowing down as your mouth opened to yell at him for making such a confession at this time, but he brought your hand down to his side and pushed the needle into his skin with a sharp breath.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you repeated with no choice but to stitch him up all the way now.

His body tensed with each pointed stitch, but he kept your mind from twisting itself into a nasty knot again. “Keep going; it’s okay. God, I’m so glad you’re okay.” His gaze was trained on the wall behind you, though you wished he was watching your sutures. He breathed out a long sigh and said, “That day the three of you nearly got hurt downtown when The Lizard attacked… In that split second, I thought you were all going to die, and I wouldn’t be able to save you. Me, the superhero.”

“Peter.”

“I couldn’t let that happen. Not after Uncle Ben,” he sighed, his breaths becoming more ragged. “After that day, I came back here every night to make sure you were alright.”

“Peter. It’s okay,” you told him, eyes trained on his for a second before returning to the injury. “We’re okay.”

You heard him sniffle a bit, and you knew it wasn’t from the stitches. As you tied off the last knot, you examined your work. Though his wound was closed with uneven sutures, it would hold. You whispered, “It’s all done.”

You disposed of the dirtied supplies, coming back to bandage him with clean hands. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder to lift him into a sitting position, his throat rumbling with a strained groan. You grabbed gauze and spun it around and around his torso, making sure it fit well.

Collapsing into the couch next to him, you pressed your forehead against his, your body sighing into him. You tried ignoring how warm and hard his chest felt rising up and down against you. “Please tell me that was the worst one.”

He gave a small laugh. “God, I hope that was the worst one.”

You stood up, ignoring his whine of protest with a pained heart. Searching for clothes, you found a stray shirt and pants to fit him. You grabbed ice packs and water on the way back and syrup for his now-cold wheat cakes. “Okay, arms up,” you ordered, putting his arms and head into the shirt with gentle movements.

“Now let’s get you into something looser than skinny jeans,” you said. You laughed at how tight the suit was, but your laughs quickly turned to grunts as you struggled to peel the pants off of him without hurting him.

After a minute or so, they finally released the poor boy’s legs. You gently moved his lower half this way and that, checking for anything needing immediate attention. In finding nothing but bruises and light scrapes, you helped him into pants that allowed a bit more breathing room.

You laid some ice packs on the most bruised parts of his body, your attention away from his movements. When everything sat in the right place, you looked at his face to find him stuffing his mouth full of room-temperature wheat cakes with no syrup.

With a full mouth, he said, “These are so good; May taught you well.” He swallowed and motioned his head toward the bag he brought in with him. “Speaking of May, I can’t have her seeing me like this or my roommates. So I shoved some clothes and a toothbrush in a bag. Could I crash here for a couple days? I know Gwen’s gone for the week. Oh, and I forgot toothpaste. Could I borrow some?”

You laughed at his messy mumbling. “How’d you know Gwen was gone? Spider-Man is a stalker, I see,” you teased. “But yes and yes. I can’t believe you packed an overnight bag while bleeding out.”

“I wasn’t bleeding out. ‘Tis but a flesh wound,” he laughed but quickly groaned as the movement pulled at his stitches. “An annoying flesh wound though.”

Shaking your head, you sat on the edge of the couch next to him, letting his body lean into yours. Your fingers came up to brush his sweat-soaked hair out of his face. “Hey Peter…” you said.

He hummed in response around the food.

“You really should’ve told us about this.”

You weren’t sure you’d ever heard a gulp as audible as his, his head slowly turning to look at you. Grabbing the water from the end table, you gave it to him and watched how he downed the whole thing in one go before setting it on the floor.

He let out a deep breath and said, “I know.” With all his strength, he pushed himself back up to stare eye-to-eye with you. “Though, I really hope you can understand why I didn’t at first.”

You nodded, your fingers fidgeting in your lap. “I do.”

A hand came up to rub across his grimy face. “I was just so mad at the world for what happened to Ben, mad at myself. And by the time I picked my head up out of my ass, you were gone. I’m sorry.”

Bringing him in for a hug, you whispered, “I hope you’ve forgiven yourself, Peter. You deserve it.” You rubbed your hand along his back and felt his head loll against your neck, his mouth letting out a content sigh. “We are absolutely not done with this conversation. Though, we really have to get you to bed.”

You cleaned up everything Spider-Man–related into his bag and lifted him up as well as you could. The laces on his shoes unraveled, the high tops clattering to the floor. You were about to pick them up when Peter sleepily whined, pushing the two of you toward your room. Using enough of your strength to hold him and the bag, you left the shoes and shuffled across the apartment one slow foot at a time. His body wanted to simply fall onto the bed, but you let him down gently and pulled the sheets over him. Making sure he was settled first, you stood up to walk out of the room.

“Wait,” he said, his voice coming out barely above a whisper. “I’m not letting my best nurse sleep on the couch I bled on. Stay with me,” he pleaded with a hand reaching out toward yours.

A smile grew across your face. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m just going to refill your water,” you told him.

You threw the dirtied blanket into the washing machine and quickly brought back a full glass, your chest feeling an ache as soon as your bodies were apart. When you came back, you gingerly settled into the bed next to him, careful as to not bump into any of his injuries. He seemed much less caring as he threw a sore arm over your body and pulled you in close.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “For everything.”

Finally, after a night that would not let either of you rest, his body relaxed against yours. You were sure being this close to him would freak you out, keeping your mind awake for hours. But feeling his heart beat against your body and his hand rest along your skin– and the life-threatening situation he brought through your window – you quickly grew tired. His breathing deepened, and you whispered a final, “I love you too” before drifting in and out of sleep in his arms.

Normally, it would be your blaring alarm or students talking unnecessarily loud in the hallways, but today, it was the sound of a key clicking into the apartment lock and the door creaking open that your mind was first aware of that morning. You sleepily blinked your eyes open once, ready to pull the covers over your head and stay there forever. It was when Peter’s nose nuzzled into the back of your neck that you shot up in bed.

Gwen was here.

He groaned next to you, mumbling, “What is it?” He sleepily grumbled other words, but you couldn’t make it out as you slapped a hand over his mouth. Your eyes glanced around the room at the various pieces of Peter’s suit and looked over at his body clad in your clothes. With wildly disheveled hair and raised eyebrows, he looked between your hand on his face and your eyes. You couldn’t imagine how you looked or what Gwen would think of Spider-Man or Peter in your bed.

She must’ve heard your guys’ movements because she quietly called your name, and three gentle knocks tapped against your door. Thankfully, Peter had finally caught on and rushed to sit up and grab his things. But as his body stretched, the stitches on his no-longer-forgotten wound pulled against his skin. He shoved his face into his arm, stifling his groan as best as he could. Nearly forgetting about Gwen, you were about to go take care of Peter when she knocked again, her voice drifting through the door.

“Are you up?”

Peter waved his hand for you to keep moving as he gently flopped back on the bed to breathe for a few seconds. You called out, “Yeah, be right there!” as you threw on a sweatshirt and kicked his suit and anything red or blue under your bed. You straightened out yourself, trying to make yourself look somewhat presentable before looking back at Peter. He had stood up, fingers resting against his injured side while leaning against the wall.

For a brief moment, you just watched the way sunlight drifted in on his body. His hair flopped almost over his eyes, the warm brown of them feeling like home. He cracked a smile, and you hoped he was thinking about you the same way you thought of him, like as long as he was here, it would be alright. You finally broke from the trance he always had you under when he mouthed, “Go!” while shifting close to your closet, out of the way of the view from the door.

Letting out a quick breath, you brought your hand to the doorknob and inched it open, poking just your top half out. Your eyes squinted at the bright hallway, not that Gwen’s platinum hair and her even whiter smile helped. “Oh, sorry! Did I wake you up?” she asked.

“No, I was just relaxing in bed before starting the day,” you lied. “What are you doing back?”

She rolled her eyes and let out a long groan. “It’s been a real shit show, and a long story. My professor won’t let me take my class online because… I don’t even know why. So I said I’d come back today just for this class before going back home again,” she huffed out and rubbed a hand over her face. “Anyway, he said we need our laptops today, and I forgot my charger. Well, Simon took it out of my backpack without telling me, so… Would I be able to borrow yours for class? I’m sorry, do you need yours at the moment?”

You bit your lip, thinking. “No, my classes aren’t until a bit later. I’ll grab it for you.”

She grabbed your hand that wasn’t tight on the door knob while saying, “Oh, you’re a lifesaver. Thank you!”

Normally, you would just leave the door open, and she’d walk into your room. You slowly nodded, saying with an unsure smile, “Do you mind just staying here for a second? It’s a real mess that you don’t need to look at while I’m searching for the charger.”

Letting out a loud laugh, she said, “Since when do I judge for a slightly messy room? Actually, don’t answer that. But you know I don’t care that much.”

“I’m just a bit embarrassed about it,” you told her, pressing your mouth into a tight line. Your hand stayed on the door, not budging it open even though your heart beat too fast at lying to Gwen.

For a few seconds, her eyes widened and she cocked her head. You were afraid you’d made her worried for your health until a sly smile grew across her face. “Wait a second,” she said, her voice then dropping to a whisper. “Do you have someone in there?” Her voice carried a wave of excitement as she wiggled her eyebrows at you.

Your mouth opened and closed, and again. You looked back into the room, eyes searching for Peter, but he must have stuffed his poor body into the closet. Letting out a sigh, you said in a hushed tone, “Okay, yes. I brought back a guy, but he’s still sleeping.”

Gwen let out a tiny squeal, “On a Monday night? You jezebel!”

You hushed her with a grin. “Please don’t embarrass me. If this goes well, maybe I’ll even get to introduce him to you guys. Now let me go get my charger!” you laughed out.

Shutting the door, you nearly stumbled back from it toward your desk where your charger would usually be, but it wasn’t there. As you glanced around the room for it, you turned your head at hearing the smallest clearing of the throat. Peter was indeed standing in the closet, but his hand was outstretched, holding your charger for you. He whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

You mouthed, “It’s okay,” before snatching it from him and returning to the door. You cracked it open just a little and said, “Okay, Gwen. Here it is.”

She stood up on her tippy toes, eyes searching for the mystery man inside your room but returned to the heels of her feet with a huff. Grabbing the charger, she pointed a finger at you. “You are telling me everything when I get back from class.”

You promised her you would before waving goodbye and shutting the door, the sound of her steps growing quieter joining your shallow breaths. The weak wood thudded when you dropped your head back against it, your hands rubbing down your face. When you finally looked up again, ready to face the dreary clouds of the situation you’d found yourself in, you instead opened your eyes to see the most beautiful sunshine ever as Peter stepped a few inches from your face.

His hands wrapped around yours, bringing them to his mouth. Keeping his gaze on you, he kissed each of your knuckles with such tenderness, it made your heart sigh with happiness. “Thank you for that,” he said, letting out an airy laugh.

He brought his forehead down to yours, resting it there as your bodies just swayed together, taking in the moment of being so close to him. He breathed out, “You know, I wasn’t kidding about yesterday.” His throat bobbed with a hard swallow, his chest heaving a bit higher with each inhale as you felt his heart pound a bit faster. “I do love you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to hold his gaze while he laid his heart so open and bare. The moment that had just felt silly and carefree shattered, the broken mirage reminding you of yet another disappointment. With Gwen now gone, you could have talked normally, shouted at him about the way he kept fading away from you, but your voice stayed quiet. “Peter,” you whispered with a shaky breath.

Before your heart got away from you, you forced your body to steel any nerves and look him in the eyes despite your fluttering stomach. Your teeth dug into your lip to keep growing tears at bay. “...Peter, I don’t know if I have another chance in me. I can’t handle the secrets and going days without knowing if you’re even alive.”

You might as well have told him you hated him and would never love him back with the way his face dropped. His throat bobbed as his mouth pressed into a tight line. “I promise there aren’t any more secrets. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, I swear,” he said, begged, as his hands came up to your face.

But you turned your head to avoid his touch. A weak sob broke through your resolve as you said, “You promised before, Peter. I need to know this is different… because we’re different. I can’t risk a broken heart on top of losing you.”

His whole body stilled for just a moment, the air around you two freezing, before his movements exploded. He nodded feverishly, looking around the room for something, anything he could show that he could prove to you. He dug under the bed and grabbed his Spider-Man mask, his fingers gripping hard into the fabric. “I swear, if I start to drift away again or let you think for even a second that you don’t deserve the whole world, I will give it up. I won’t be Spider-Man anymore.”

Your fists balled into themselves. “You can’t do that. These people need Spider-Man. They need you.”

“I don’t care. Not if you don’t need me too.” His words might as well have been hands clasped together in a desperate plea, a prayer for you to take this risk with him. It was when he slowly shifted down onto one knee and then the other, his fingers coming to his side with a soft groan. In a second, he forgot about his injury and reached his arms out wide, offering his entire being to you. “I love you.”

He looked like an angel, his arms spread open like wings being bathed in the morning sunlight behind him. A laughing sort of scoff escaped your mouth, but nothing was funny. His doe eyes stared up at you as he was ready to give up everything just so he wouldn’t disappoint you again.

Even though your stomach felt uneasy, from nerves or maybe elation, and your thoughts wanted to race, analyze his words and intentions and meaning and, and… you knew one thing without having to think about it.

“I love you too, Peter.”

He released a breathy laugh, his hands slowly dropping back to his sides. You helped him back up to his feet. His fingers reached for your own as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. Against your skin, he mumbled, “Yeah? You mean it?”

You couldn’t control the wide smile growing across your face. “I love you so much, Peter.” Happy, emotional tears pricked at the edges of your eyes, a laugh-cry shaking your shoulders.

He pulled back, his eyes looking just as watery. “I’d be lost without you,” he said, bringing his hands around to your back, pulling you tight against him. “You were always there for me, guiding me through life like a star since that day in biology. I know I haven’t always been there for you, but I promise that’s done,” he told you.

With a sheepish smile, he said, “Though maybe I should make that promise after this demon lizard is taken care of…”

For once, as you hugged Peter like you would never let him go again, you believed him. “Like a star, you say?” you asked.

“Yep, the brightest and nicest and most beautiful shining star there is,” he said, nodding against your face.

“You know, I always thought of you as the sun, always lighting up my life whenever you were in it,” you told him. Your breath hitched just a bit as he pressed small kisses against your cheek. “It’s you and me. The sun and the star.”

“I love that. Together, we’re unstoppable. The best couple there is, clearly,” he bragged, making you laugh but also swoon at him already calling you a couple. He continued, “Though the sun is a star, so maybe we need to clarify that to people.”

Your mouth pressed in a tight line, pulling back to look at him. “Peter?” you asked with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t ruin the moment.”

He mouthed a giggly “sorry.” His nose nudged against you, and the smile ran away from his face as he said, “I’m so sorry for not being there for you. I swear, I’m going to make it up to you every day of my life. Starting now.”

You were content to let him make it up to you by staying in his embrace for as long as possible, leaving the world outside for a bit. But with his hands still resting at your lower back, his eyes gave an unreadable expression – until they glanced to your lips and back. Shuffling his feet forward, he pressed your bodies even tighter. He brought one hand up to your face, rubbing his thumb back and forth across your cheek, and you couldn’t help but lean into his warm palm, humming.

In barely a whisper of words, he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Unable to control the happiness and nerves bubbling in your chest, you instantly breathed out, “Yes, Peter. Please.”

The widest grin you’d ever seen permanently attached itself to Peter’s face as he leaned in, so incredibly slowly. His mouth rested right in front of yours, begging you to make the move. You nearly did, body wound tight enough to lunge forward at him, when you heard the sound of the front door opening and closing again.

Gwen’s voice carried through the apartment as she said, “Just came back for my water bottle. Be safe, kids!” A loud giggle came from the kitchen, making you laugh as well. But just as you thought she would finally leave, she called your name again.

Letting out a long groan, you brought your forehead against Peter’s before yelling, “Yeah?”

“What are Peter’s shoes doing here?” she called back. Your head shot up, wide eyes staring at Peter, who matched your expression. You had forgotten about the shoes… The two of you opened your mouths, stuttering as you tried to come up with some believable excuse.

But then you heard Gwen let out a deep gasp, and you both flinched at the noise. Your bodies then scrambled when you heard her shoes stomp toward your room, but you locked it right before they stepped in front of the door.

“Unlock this door!” she said while pulling at the handle.

“Gwen, I am not going to open that door. And you have class you don’t want to miss,” you said, chewing on the inside of your mouth, eyes locked on the doorknob.

She eventually stopped trying to break your door down and said, “Fine, but we are so talking about this when I get back.” You agreed, and her steps began to turn away when she called out, “See you later, Peter!”

Before you could do anything, the boy behind you shouted, “Bye Gwen!” You turned on him with wide eyes and your jaw jutting out. Gwen started laughing uncontrollably, making Peter squeeze his eyes shut and clamp a hand over his mouth. Her giggling soon retreated as the front door opened and closed.

You sighed out, fingers rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Peter…”

He brought his hand from his face, saying, “I know. But they were going to figure it out one way or another. There’s no keeping Gwen from sleuthing.”

You knew he was right but still shook your head. “Yeah, at least we can control when they find out about your secret double life,” you laughed out. “Though now she thinks we slept together and I lied to her about it,” you said, moving to lightly whack his arm, but with quick reflexes, he caught your hand and pulled your body close to his.

He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “We could sleep together, and then it would be less of a lie. I think,” he said, trailing off and placing your hands behind his neck before letting go.

“I’m not sure that math checks out, bug boy.”

“I am not a bug boy.”

“Either way, webhead,” you said, feathering your fingers through his hair, pressing your body even closer. “How are we supposed to sleep together when we haven’t even kissed yet?” you said, purposely fluttering your eyelashes at him.

He brought his head to yours, his lips right in front of yours again, saying, “You are going to be the death of me, you know that?” His hands moved to the sides of your face, his fingers brushing along the column of your neck.

In an instant, your mind wanted to run away with every “What if” there was. What if this ruined your friendship? What if this changed everything with Gwen and Harry too? What if he didn’t keep his promise? What if…

As his lips pressed against yours, it all went silent, your heart soaring through the air, ready to take this leap of faith with him. And God, you finally wanted to. His arms held on tight to your body, like having an inch between your bodies would let you disappear. You got lost in his soft mouth and the daze he put you under until he deepened the kiss, pushing the air from your lungs, and you could have sworn your legs were working a second ago. Thank goodness his hands moved toward your hips, his palms snaking around to hold your weight. A yelp squeaked from your mouth as his fingers pressed into your flesh and hoisted you into the air.

You held onto him, his muscles tight against your body as he flopped back onto your bed, your body on top of his. You laughed against his lips, “You were just on your knees moaning and groaning about your injury. Now you’re all fine to lift me like it’s nothing?”

He smiled up at you, and you knew that you wanted to see that lovestruck grin on his face every day. “I was being dramatic to make you feel bad for me. Did it work, sweetheart?”

The way his mouth curled around the word sweetheart maybe should have sounded suggestive, but it brushed over your skin with such tenderness, wrapping you in with its softness. You leaned your head down to his, watching the way he stared at your lips. Finally giving in, you laid against him, kissing again and again and again, your heart not quite believing this wasn’t a dream.

You pulled away, breaths mingling together and resting your head against his cheek. You blinked your eyes open and cocked your head slightly to the side. “Hey, Peter.”

His eyes were still gently closed and his face nuzzling into yours, unable to bear being apart from your mouth for long. Against your lips, he muttered, “Hmm?”

Your hands came to his jaw, your thumb rubbing along the bone in smooth waves. “What day is it?”

He took a second to think, like his mind was anywhere but what god damn day it was when you were right here. His brain caught up after a moment, him mumbling, “Uh, Tuesday, I think.”

His eyes finally opened, staring into yours like it was the last thing he’d ever see, the one thing keeping him alive. Every blink he took, missing your face for even a heartbeat, was a shock to his body he never wanted to feel again. And he wouldn’t have to. A grin grew on your face, and you knew it was no match for the breath of fresh air, the sunshine of his smile. Smiling like he used every bit of his heart to do.

You quietly thanked the universe for working in these wonderfully mysterious ways. As you brought his face back to yours, you couldn’t wait to spend every Tuesday and the rest of your life with Peter.

@enaraism

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #spiderman #The Amazing Spider Man #tasm andrew garfield #andrew garfield spider man #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker

255 notes · View notes

theunstuffedpepper · 2 years ago

Text

Finally finding time for a little update here. It’s been 2.5 months since we lost our little man and we’re hanging in there. B and I are leaning on each other and focusing on taking care of Pep, trying not to let the grief swallow us whole. We’re trying to focus on what’s in the future for our family which has been helpful and healthy for us both. B made our sweet boy’s urn, which is beautiful, and was a sort of therapy for him.

As summer gave way to fall, we enjoyed the last warm days of the season outside, taking trips to the park, zoo, and local farms as much as possible. We’ve had family and friends visiting and making plans with us consistently; it’s been great having that support and keeping involved socially. We went to our first trunk-or-treat and my little Incredible was too adorable in his costume. He had so much fun and big surprise: turns out, he loves candy.

One big decision we were faced with after losing Pip was whether we were going to move forward with buying the new house and moving. The day we lost him, our offer was accepted. It was hard to even think about and in the moment it was a decision I truly didn’t even care about, but we ultimately decided that we would keep pushing forward. To back out of the deal and stay living in our current house wouldn’t have done anyone any good. I felt an overwhelming need to get out of that house and out of that town. Being surrounded by things that bring heartbreaking memories to mind a thousand times a day leaves very little room for healing.

I’m happy to say we closed on our new home a little over a week ago and just moved in a few days ago. We’re currently still half in the old house, half in the new house, but it’s nice being able to take our time with moving everything over. Once we’re fully out of the old house, it’ll be time to clean it up, take photos, and put it on the market.

Moving to the new town in PA has been so incredibly positive for us all. For me, very healing. In a lot of ways, the area seems opposite to where we’ve been living in NY. I didn’t know how much I needed that until I experienced it. Our new town is slower paced, the people are so friendly, and the new house, despite only being 15 minutes outside of town, feels so quiet and secluded, in the middle of nature. We have dozens of deer on our property every day. Pep loves to watch them from his bedroom window and chase them in the yard, squealing happily and exclaiming, “deeeer!!” The center of town is very historic and charming, a very Hallmark movie kind of quaint town. Love that journey for me.

Pep, now 22 months old, is absolutely blossoming. His language and communication has exploded over the past month or two. He has so, so many words and can now tell us what he wants, what he doesn’t want, and it’s so heart warming and wonderful. He truly is the apple of my eye and he keeps both me and B going every single day.

This weekend, B and I reluctantly left Pep in the care of my parents at our new home and we made the 9-hour drive to Michigan for a close friend’s wedding. I was so nervous to leave Pep for a whole weekend — longer than we’ve ever been away before — but he’s doing awesome with my parents. After the most stressful few months of my life, I needed this rest and break more than I realized. It’s been fantastic reconnecting with B, spending time with our cherished college friends, sleeping in, eating meals as two adults rather than mom and dad, and recharging.

I’ve been half heartedly keeping up with you all and need to check in on so many of you for the latest updates. I’m missing this community, so I’ll try to check in more often. I hope you’re all well!

#photo dump #momblr #grief #pep is 22 months #11122022 #operationkay10

83 notes · View notes

mackenyu-archives · 2 years ago

Text

GQ Japan Interview: Mackenyu Arata x HUBLOT

(05/12/2022)

“Right now I am having the most fun and at my happiest. I’m living my dream,” Mackenyu Arata, a man who continues to challenge himself.

"If the world around you doesn't change, then it's better to change yourself," actor Mackenyu Arata who left Japan with that mindset, resonates with HUBLOT, a brand that continues to challenge. What kind of scenery does the 26-year-old who had challenged the world see now?

“I’m the kind of person who doesn’t mind eating curry every day,” Mackenyu said of himself. He doesn't have a lot of material desires, and says that as long as he likes something, that's enough. The watch he has been using for the past two years is the Hublot Classic Fusion Black Magic.

"It's the first watch that I thought was cool and I wanted it. It's not really flashy or big, it's elegant but it has a presence. My father was always wearing a watch, so growing up, I thought it was natural to wear a wristwatch. I always wear it when I'm not working as my 'buddy' I spend my precious time with."

In 2020 Mackenyu decided to be active overseas. He had been challenging the world a year later.

"The impact of the coronavirus was a big factor in giving me time to think for myself. Since my teenage years my work schedule has always been packed, so I didn't really have time to reflect on myself. I would be filming a movie in the morning, and a drama series in the afternoon. At the same time I would also attend interviews for publicity. I was living a life where I could only sleep on the move. During the pandemic, I spent time with my family and friends, and also with myself. As I engage in my hobbies, I realized that I enjoy this kind of time, and I think its important to have them. Up until that point I've always had this anxiety, that if I'm not constantly working, I would disappear. But really there's no need to feel that way. That time made me think that I want to enjoy myself more, both at work and in life. I reflected on this and it had influenced me in the way I work and how I make decisions. I've realized that I should be doing what I want to do and just do what I want to do."

Born and raised in the US, he has the "weapon" of English. Temporarily stopping his activities in Japan to challenge himself overseas, what awaits him were the Hollywood's adaptation of Saint Seiya "Knights of the Zodiac" and the Netflix series "One Piece" (both scheduled to be released in 2023).

"I wonder if I was scared when I accepted the role back then... I don't remember (laughs). Anyway, working abroad was fun. The scale of the work is different from Japan. A huge number of people risk their lives to make a series with a budget that is 100 times bigger than that in Japan, and the degree of their commitment is just incredible. I'm already happy just being there among those people. Moreover, the working environment is set in order, the cast and staff have time to rest properly. So when work begins, everyone is in good spirit and they work wholeheartedly. To be honest, this is completely different than in Japan. In Japan, even when I take care of my health properly, it wasn't easy to get rid of my fatigues from work. But I'm really healthy now though (laughs). I realized that there's a world where I can be an actor under those circumstances."

In Knights of the Zodiac, he was chosen as the lead. His overseas career took off with a smooth start.

"It feels like I'm living my dream. Right now I am having the most fun and at my happiest. I had the opportunity to check the finished movie footage. I was taken aback. When a team of first class professionals work together, we can achieve this quality. I couldn't be any happier to be the lead in this movie. I can't wait to see the final movie, and I'd like everyone to watch it too. I'd like people to feel inspired when they see me in that movie. That I represent Japan, and challenge the world as a Japanese actor. I don't plan to convey big messages like encouraging people to revitalize Japan or anything, but if we could break out of our shells and jump out of it, there's this incredible world that awaits you. To instill that kind of mindset alone already makes me happy."

Source: https://www.gqjapan.jp/feature/20221205/hublot-mackenyu-arata

#interviews #mackenyu arata #mackenyu #knights of the zodiac #one piece live action #OPLA #KOTZ LA #saint seiya #roronoa zoro #pegasus seiya

54 notes · View notes

cjsinkythoughts · 4 years ago

Text

It’s All in the Perspective

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4491

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Gun Violence, Minor Character Injury, A Peek at Angry Bucky, Explosions (if that’s a warning), Mentions of Stevie (I really miss him, guys)

A/N: So! Here it is! Part 4.3! After long hours of laboring and slaving away - kidding, kidding. I had a bit of trouble with this part, not gonna lie, because there’s a lot of feelings I wanted to try explaining. To do that, there’s a little sort of twist at the end that, once I decided to put in, made the chapter much smoother to write. I wasn’t happy with it at first, but now I’m satisfied.

There’s a lot of things happening in this one; it’s longer than I had anticipated because of the little snippet at the end I added. It’s got a few scene-for-scene things, but I kinda blew past it just to get to the characters’ emotions and stuff. Plus writing action like the shipping yard scene is hard when you’re not focusing entirely on that scene, which I wasn’t.

You’ll notice that the last little bit with Ayo (the Wakandan) isn’t in this. That’s because I couldn’t really find a way to fit it in and I’m assuming it will fit in better with next week’s episode.

Not beta’d, so please excuse any mistakes! Thank you wonderful people for reading and commenting! I enjoy hearing your opinions and what you like about the show and the series! Enjoy the final Part for Episode 3 and stay tuned for an announcement tomorrow about the One Shots I’ll be doing in relation to this series!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

You and Bucky kept sneaking glances at each other as you walked through the dock, weaving between the different colored shipping containers with Sharon leading the way. Every time you caught his eye, his ears turned red and he looked away, scanning your surroundings. Not that you were any better, immediately turning away when he turned your way.

You almost kissed him. Fuck. You couldn’t let that happen. He was your friend. Your teammate. He was the best friend to the man you fell in love with, who just so happened to be your best friend. Your best friend who left you. Your best friend who you promised you would watch out for Bucky.

Bucky…who you also fell in love with. Whether or not it was because of Steve, the fact of the matter was: you loved him. You loved both of them. And you’d never loved anyone like that before. And one left. And the other was trying to navigate through his shitty life. And you weren’t any better. Which is why, you decided in that moment, that no matter how much you wanted to - and holy shit did you want to - you wouldn’t pursue.

Yet. Maybe. Ugh! When did feelings become so complicated?!

When you started having them.

You silently grumbled to yourself, shaking your head clear. You had to focus and be in the moment. Now was not the time to sort out what to do about the suddenly rising emotions towards the cerulean eyed brunette currently burning with you with a gaze you refused to return.

“Alright.” Sharon stopped, making the group stop as well. “He’s in there. Container 4261. I’ll keep an eye out while you guys talk to Nagel. But hurry; we’re on borrowed time.”

You each grabbed one of the earpieces she held in her palm, slipping it comfortably in your ear. “I’ll stay back with you.” Sharon went to talk, but you cut her off. “I’d feel better knowing it’s not just you out here.”

She pursed her lips, before nodding. “Alright. If that’s what you want.”

“Doll-”

“I’ll be fine, Buck.” You insisted, checking your gun to make sure it was loaded. Bucky stayed quiet, nodding in begrudging acceptance.

You and Sharon headed off as the boys went towards the storage unit. “Just like old times, huh?” Sharon raised an eyebrow at you.

You grinned, shoving your gun in the thigh holster she let you borrow. “Let the good times roll, babe.”

“Absolutely.” Sharon winked, before you two split up to cover more ground. It wasn’t long before Sharon announced company and you took off sprinting in her direction.

You got to her just as more thugs approached her from behind, immediately lunging into action.

“Hey, so, we never finished that conversation!”

You grunted as you roundhouse kicked a guy, hooking your knee over his shoulder and pulling him to the ground by the neck “Really?! You wanna do that now?!”

“Sure! I’m not too busy!”

You rolled your eyes at her reply, seeing her knock a guy unconscious before she turned around to knee another one in the face. “What were we talking about?”

“Why’re you holding back?”

“It’s complicated!” You elbowed a guy in the ribs, flipping him over your shoulder and twisting his arm till a sickening crack sounded.

“Because of Steve?!”

“Yes - no! Kind of!”

Sharon was on the floor choking a guy out as you slammed a guy’s head into a shipping container, pushing him at another guy. “You loved him didn’t you?! And I mean, like in love with him!”

“Who?!” You laced your fingers around the back of his head and brought his face down onto his knee.

“Director Fury!” You gave her a look which she snorted at. “Steve, you dumbass! Who else?!”

“Yeah! No shit I was in love with him!” You ran up the side of a storage unit to do a backflip and land on some guy’s shoulders, choking him out. Before he fell, you rolled off, tripping a guy in the process and elbowing his throat.

“Well at least you’re admitting it now!”

You were hit in the back of the head, thrown into a wrestle with another guy on the ground. You bit his hand, making him cry out, before you headbutted him.

“You couldn’t even hear his name without having to remind people you were ‘just friends’!”

“We were just friends, Share! You know that!”

You heard her shoot of a gun a few times as you smacked someone in the back of the head with the butt of your gun, trying to save ammo. “You really never did anything about it?!”

“No!”

She glanced at you incredulously from across the way, bodies now littering the ground. “And you don’t regret that?”

“No.” You sighed at her look, relenting. “Yes. Kind of. I dunno. I mean…he’s happy with his decision, and for me that’s enough.”

“But doesn’t it hurt?”

“Of course it hurts. It hurts like hell. But-”

“But you still have him so it’s all good.”

You bit your lip, shrugging. “Something like that.”

Sharon tilted her head, confused. “So why don’t you tell him?”

“I dunno. I don’t think either of us is ready.”

“C’mon. I saw you two earlier. You should’ve just kissed him.”

Rolling your eyes, you frowned when you noticed something missing. “Ah shit. My ear piece. It must’ve fallen out earlier.” You looked around, but Sharon stopped you, nodding her head between a couple shipping containers.

“Don’t worry about it. Mine broke a little while ago, too. Let’s go get the guys. Tell them we need to leave.”

You nodded and started running with her to the unit Nagel’s lab was in. You followed her around the corner, only to widen your eyes and shove her out of the way. Two gunshots rang out, Sharon catching the guy right between the eyes, while the man’s bullet grazed your shoulder.

“Ow, fuck.” You hissed, hand immediately going up to clamp your wound.

“Dammit! You shouldn’t have done that, you idiot!”

You gave her a look. “You’re welcome.”

Rolling her eyes, she quickly tore off part of your shirt. “Hey!”

“First off, this is my shirt. Second, I’m just making it more of a crop top. Third, it’s your own fault, so quit your whining.”

“Touchy touchy.” You grumbled, wincing when she tied it around your arm.

“Just come on. And hey,” she turned to you as she sprinted with your wrist in her hold. “My advice? Don’t wait. Seriously. I know it must be weird, the whole he’s his best friend, he was your best friend, now he’s your best friend, thing you’ve got going on, but there’s nothing else stopping you. Steve made his choice. And he’d be fine with whatever you choose as long as you’re happy.”

You shook your head. “But Bucky’s still healing-”

“So? He’s already been on dates. I think you’re just using that as an excuse to protect your heart from hurting again. Trust me; Barnes isn’t going anywhere.”

Not able to respond since you were making your way to the guys in Nagel’s lab, you bit your lip, hating that she got the last say in the conversation. She definitely planned it so she would. “We’re outta time, fellas.”

As if things couldn’t get worse Zemo - that fucking snake, you knew he was gonna do something stupid - took out a gun he got from who knows where. You sure as hell didn’t let him have a gun. Before you could stop him, he shot Nagel, your best, your only, lead.

“Goddammit!” You growled as Sam and Sharon restrained him. “You fucking-”

The explosion came next, again happening faster than you could react. Bucky grabbed you and pulled you underneath him, covering you with his body as glass and metal flew around you. With ringing ears, you groaned, squinting your eyes open.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You were vaguely aware of the alarms going off, a red light blinking behind Bucky’s head. You nodded, his worried eyes softening just slightly at your response. “We gotta get out-”

“I know, I know. C’mon.” He helped you up, eyes catching sight of the makeshift bandage on your arm. “Dammit, what did you do?”

“I’m fine.” You pushed his hands off. “Go help Sharon. We’ve gotta move. Now.” He huffed, but nodded and moved over to get Sharon. You tried to see where Zemo went through the smoke, but he was already gone.

You four made it just before the whole thing combusted due to the chemicals in the lab. So much for any evidence or leads.

The moment you got out, you were thrust into a gunfight, rolling your eyes as Bucky and Sam, once again, did their own thing.

“Are they always like this?”

“Usually it’s worse. Wait until they start arguing about who was right.” Sharon gave you an unamused look to which you nodded at, ducking when a bullet whizzed by you. “I know. It’s so annoying.”

Sure enough, when Bucky ran out of bullets, the bickering commenced, making you huff and Sharon shout at them. “Are they serious?”

You shot a few more bullets before your gun started clicking. “Dammit. Unfortunately.”

“I’m out!”

“Me too!”

Another explosion and a person you couldn’t see clearly through the haze caused a distraction for you guys to get away, Sam practically shoving you and Sharon into an open shipping container as Bucky took care of a couple more bounty hunters.

“What happened? Both of your comms went out.” Bucky growled once he came in behind you, grabbing your forearm to study your wound.

“It’s just a graze. Chill your ass down. I lost my earpiece and Sharon’s broke.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, his voice low with warning. “What. Happened.”

“We rounded a corner, the guy was there. I shoved Sharon, he shot, she shot, I got hit, he’s now dead. Happy?”

“You promised.” He snapped, finger tightening on your arm. “You said you’d save yourself first.”

“Buck, let go.” Grabbing his wrist, you tugged a bit, wincing slightly. “Seriously. Stop. That hurts.”

He blinked, his features slacking and his fingers immediately dropping your arm. “Doll, I-I…fuck.” He turned to go punch through the back wall to get out of the unit you were in.

Before you could respond and tell him it was fine, the Baron himself drove up in a slick blue convertible. You groaned at Bucky’s response to Zemo. “We need him.” God, you were getting tired of hearing that.

“You’re lucky I don’t bash your head in.” You growled at him.

“If you try that shit again-”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Sam raised an eyebrow when Bucky got into the passenger’s seat with no hesitation, looking at you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but you shrugged and slipped into the back with Sam. Bucky and you always took the back seat. You had ever since the dumb little blue car Steve got.

You hugged Sharon in parting, knowing she couldn’t come with. “Hey.” She looked at you sternly. “Take a leap.”

“We’ll see.” You told her, sitting down and buckling.

“Do better than that, Y/L/N. And get me that pardon you promised me.” She told Sam, pointing at him..

“Thanks for everything.” She nodded, before jogging off in the opposite direction you’d be heading. Sam turned back to the front, an annoyed expression crossing his face. “You’re not gonna move your seat up, are you?”

“No.”

You snickered as Sam shot you a glare, Zemo starting to drive the car out of the shipping yard, away from the chaos.

****************

You collapsed onto the seat in front of Bucky, leaning onto the knee he had propped up against the back. He glanced up at you, face blank, before looking back down at his metal hand he was cleaning.

“Here. Let me see-”

“I got it.” He grumbled, shifting away from where your hands reached for his.

Your eyes widened, stunned at his reaction. “Bucky, just let me-”

“I said no, Y/N.” Your name. Again. You can’t remember him calling you ‘doll’ since before the shipping yard explosion.

“Are you okay?” He merely grunted. You straightened off his leg, swatting his knees with the back of your hand. “Hey.”

He shifted again, planting his feet on the floor. “Stop.”

“No.”

He shot you a warning glare. “Y/N-”

“Stop calling me that.”

“It’s your name, isn’t it?”

“What is wrong with you?” You scrunched up your features in confusion and concern. “Is this about my arm? I told you it’s fine.” You got no response except his eye flickering to your now properly bandaged shoulder. “Why are you acting so weird?”

He shrugged. “I’m not.”

You scoffed in disbelief, jaw dropping. “You’re not.”

“Nope.”

“Fine.” You stood up, brushing your legs off, the bare skin having splotches and smears of dirt and dust. “If you wanna be like that, go ahead. Brood. Be a child. When you’re ready to talk to me about whatever the hell is bothering you, like an adult, I’ll be in the back room.”

You only took two steps before he called out for you. “Doll.” You turned around, an expectant look on your features as you crossed your arms, shifting your weight to one foot. He looked up at you nervously, before looking down and picking at the metal plates of his hand. “I got scared.”

Your features softened, your head tilting gently. “Scared?”

“When you stopped talking. You and Sharon…you were talking. But both of your comms went down around the same time and I…it scared me. I-I don’t get scared anymore. Not the way I did when your voice stopped. I didn’t mean to hurt you…” His voice got quieter at the last sentence, his eyes looking to the purple handprint on your forearm.

“It was an accident, Buck.” You reassured him, settling back down in front of him. “It’s fine. You were still reeling it in from the bar. I know it’s hard for you to judge your strength like that. Steve had problems like that too.” You looked down at the rag he was holding, putting your hand out.

He licked his lips, before handing you the rag. You got off the couch to shift so you were sitting between his legs, his chest to your back. Holding his metallic hand between both of yours, you set to work, gingerly wiping away the grime, picking at the filth that wedged itself between the plates.

“He,” you chuckled, shaking your head at the moment you were remembering. “He accidentally gave me a concussion once when we were sparring. At first it was awesome; he got me my favorite take out and took me to the movies and all that. But then he just started getting annoying. Wouldn’t even let me reach for the TV remote on the coffee table a yard away.”

“Can I ask you something?” You hummed, tilting your head slightly when you felt his chin hooking on your shoulder, giving him more room. “How long did you love him?”

Freezing, you raised an eyebrow and turned to face him. “What?”

“You and Sharon. When you were talking…your comms were on.”

“How-” You swallowed thickly, a lump suddenly forming in the back of your throat. “How much did you hear?”

“Yours went out right after you admitted you were in love with him. Hers went out after you said you were just friends.”

Holding in a sigh of relief, you went back to cleaning his hand. “I don’t really know exactly when it happened. After the Battle of New York, maybe. So 2012, I guess? I dunno. I was getting up from falling for him, though. A few years later.”

“Was?”

“I - yeah. I kind of…fell again.”

He hummed, leaning back, taking his chin off your shoulder and unwinding his arm from your waist. “He’s an easy person to fall for. Hell, I’m pretty sure I had a crush on him once upon a time.”

You chuckled at that, raising an eyebrow over your shoulder at him. “I never said I fell for him again. But, yeah. You’re right.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “You like someone else?”

“It’s…complicated.”

“Oh…” He cleared his throat as you went back to his hand. “Uh…so you don’t still love him? Steve, I mean?”

“He was the first person I really loved, Bucky. A part of me will always love him.”

Bucky fingers twitched in your hold, the fingers on his other hand tapping against his thigh. “You know…he loved you too.”

You sighed, closing your eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“It’s true-”

“He left, James. If he loved me, why would he leave?”

You could feel his hesitation as his next words left his lips. “I-I dunno.” That was a lie. You could hear it in his voice. If there was one person Steve trusted more than you, it was Bucky. Of course he knew.

“Listen, I really don’t want to talk about this-”

“It’s in the notebook.” You bit your lip as Bucky shifted, pulling out the little notebook from his pocket. “He made lists - he liked lists. He made lists of things you said that made him laugh. Songs that reminded him of you. Little quirks you do that he noticed over the years. He missed you every time you went on a mission and prayed you’d get back safely.”

“James, please-”

“He didn’t want me to let you know. But I had to tell you. You have to know. He loved you.”

You let out a shaky breath as he placed the book on your thigh. You stared at it for a moment, before grabbing it and placing it in his left hand, closing his fingers around it and standing up. “I think…I’m gonna go rest for a bit in the back room. Holler if you need me.”

You didn’t wait for a response, moving quickly to the small back room of the plane which you got dressed in only a couple days ago. It only had one arm chair and instead of a door there was a curtain, but you were fine with that, plopping down in the chair and reclining.

Why? Why would he bring that up? Did he hear more than he said? Was he trying to let you down easy before you could even tell him how you felt? Did he get spooked after dancing? After the almost-kiss?

You never thought of Steve in the wrong. After all he’d done for the world in his life, he deserved to be selfish - to be happy. And Peggy gave him that. But why? Why would he leave if he loved you so dearly? If he really did what Bucky said? He wouldn’t. He’s not cruel. He wouldn’t up and leave, without even saying goodbye, knowing how deeply you loved him and feeling the same about you. This was Steven Grant Rogers for crying out loud! He wouldn’t…right?

But Bucky…he wouldn’t lie to you. He wouldn’t tell you that, especially knowing how much you missed the lovable blonde. And you knew his words held at least some truth. Actions spoke louder than words, and as something Bucky said repeated itself in your mind, you started slipping into a memory, your eyes shutting and your breaths evening out.

“He missed you every time you went on a mission and prayed you’d get back safely.”

The incessant knocking made you groan, shouting that you were coming and mumbling curses. You barely threw open the door before his worried voice hit your ears. “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”

“Stevie.” You sighed, rubbing your eyes and looking over at the clock on the wall. “Bubs…it’s two in the morning. I just got back, like, an hour ago.”

He shuffled, pink lips in a pout, eyes round and distressed. “I know, honey. I know. I’m sorry. But I heard you got hurt-”

You shook your head, a small giggle of amusement leaving your lips and you lifted your right hand, letting him see the black split holding your ring and pinky fingers. “I jammed my fingers in a door. The doc said I’ll be fully healed in a month at most.”

His eyes darted across your face and down your body, scanning for any more injuries. After glancing at your hands again, they finally landed on your eyes once more. Next thing you knew, you were being held against his chest, his face in the crook of your neck. You hummed softly, running your fingers down his spine, moving the two of you deeper into your apartment so you could shut the door.

“Don’t ever do that again. I gotta have faith in something and if you come home hurt, it’ll be crushed.”

Your eyebrows knit together. At his strange wording. “What’s that mean?”

“It means you have to promise me you’ll stay safe, honey.” He pulled back and held your face between his hands. “Please.”

“I can promise I’ll try my best.” You teased lightly, smiling at him and booping his nose, making him grin, although it was strained. “Why don’t you stay here tonight? We’ll turn on some TV in my room and you can keep me safe while I get much needed sleep.”

That made his grin relax into a real one, his head nodding in agreement. “Sounds perfect.”

“C’mon, bubs.” You took his hand, leading him to your room. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and you’ll catch some zzzz’s too.”

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

“What the hell was that?”

Bucky turned to Sam, who was gaping at him in utter disbelief, looking from the assassin to the doorway Y/N just walked through. “She needed to know.”

“Buck, she’s been dealing with some shit. And we both know something’s going on that she isn’t telling us. Her “zoning out” isn’t just zoning out, and we know that. She doesn’t need you confusing her even more.”

“Confusing her?”

Sam blinked, his troubled expression falling into a deadpan. “Are you fucking with me? No. There’s no way you’re that naive. Seriously?! Man, c’mon!”

Bucky scrunched up his face. “What?”

“She likes you, man! Everyone knows it!”

The brunette shook his head, forehead creased. “No. No, you heard her, Sam. She’s in love with Steve.”

“Was in love. As in past tense.”

“But-but she said- she likes someone else-”

“Barnes!” Sam threw his hands up, exasperated. “You are someone else!”

“I thought you two were already-”

Bucky pointed warningly at Zemo. “Watch it. Wait, wait-” He turned back to Sam. “But I heard her-”

“Bucky…man…” Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Listen, I can’t tell you everything. I’m not about to break my girl’s trust like that. But you gotta hear me when I tell you she likes you. What do you think almost happened at the party?”

“She - I - it was…an accident?”

Sam spluttered, eyes wide. “An accident? You two grinding and nearly making out was an accident?!”

“Woah! We were not…grinding-”

Zemo hummed. “Hmm…you kind of were.”

Bucky glared at him. “Thin. Fucking. Ice.” He whipped back to Sam. “I just remind her of him.”

“What?! That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! You remind her of Steve? Yes, granted your both dumbasses, but she knows both of you enough to know there’s quite a few big differences.”

“Wilson-”

Sam held up his hand, shutting Bucky up. “You like her. Yes or no.”

Bucky huffed, looking down at the hand she was holding only minutes ago. “Yes.” He finally relented. “Since the first couple months in Wakanda.”

“Steve liked her. Yes or no.”

He ran a hand through his hair, nodding his head. “Yes. Yes he liked her. I wasn’t lying about that.”

“So explain something to me.” Sam crossed his arms. “Why is it that Steve isn’t here, and you are?”

Bucky crossed his arms, brooding - although he’d never admit it - while staring out the window. “Steve…knew. I liked her. And, yes, he loved her, but he also loved Peggy. So he…”

“He told you to take your chance with Y/N, and he went back to be with his first love.”

HYDRA’s former fist nodded with a sigh. “Something like that.”

“You need to tell her.”

“I can’t.”

Sam groaned. “Why not?!”

“Because!” Bucky took a breath, trying not to shout and alert the sleeping girl in the room over, his ears tuning into her slowed heartbeat to make sure she was okay. “Because Steve has her heart, Sam. The whole thing just…I’m jealous of him. Because he got her first. And then I get mad because he didn’t do shit about it. And then I feel guilty because all the shit he put up with for me and here I am complaining…and then I just get…depressed because he’s not here. I used to be the one who fixed his problems. But after I got out…he’s been the one fixing mine. And I just…I don’t know what to do.”

Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes. “I get it. That’s valid. But stop whining and moping around about it. It happened. And you need to get your shit together. If not for your sake, for hers. Because she lost him too. And she’s probably feeling those exact same feelings.”

“But…she’s his girl-”

“No. She’s not. He made his choice.” Sam nodded towards Bucky. “Now you gotta make yours, Buckaroo.”

He shot him a glare. “You can’t call me that.”

“Why not? Y/N calls you that.”

“Y/N has a plan.”

“We both know that’s not true, Buckaroo. Hey! That one rhymed!”

Bucky shook his head with a scowl. “I will beat your ass, Wilson.”

Sam scoffed, shoving Bucky’s head playfully. “Stop being a dumbass and tell her. Buckaroo.”

“That’s it!”

Bucky tackled Sam to the ground, Zemo giving them an amused expression before leaving to talk to Oeznik. They were so wrapped up in their wrestling session, they didn’t notice the woman leaning against the wall, tired eyes barely opened as her eyebrows raised, unimpressed.

“Are you fellas done?’

They both stopped, shooting up when they noticed her. “Doll, I-”

She shook her head. “Don’t, Buck. Not right now. I’m just really tired.”

“Did we wake you?” Sam winced.

She shook her head again, yawning. “No. I just needed to use the restroom.”

Bucky couldn’t help the small smile as she rubbed her eyes, stretching her arms overhead, making that ripped crop top ride higher up. She was too cute. And she didn’t even realize it.

“Sleep well, doll. We’ll try to keep it down.”

She nodded, turning and waving over her shoulder. “You two try getting sleep, too, alright? Goodnight, Sammy.”

“Night, cher.”

“Sweetheart?” She peeked through the curtain, tilting her head slightly. “You know I love you, right?”

A small smile quirked up her lips, but it was sadder than the ones his question usually elicited. “As long as you know I love you.”

He nodded, returning the half-smile. “G’night, doll.”

“Goodnight, Buckaroo.”

2K notes · View notes