#deli superhero au
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It’s two in the morning, Cellbit is sulking his way back home from yet another attempt at the Federation’s air vent system, and it’s snowing. Christmas is in a week and a half; Richarlyson’s present, a pack of those fancy art markers that cost twice what Cellbit makes in an hour, is in Cellbit’s backpack nestled between a packet of stolen documents and a handgun. He’s tired, he wants to go home, and-
“Stop.”
It’s quiet, a hoarse whisper from a nearby dark shady alley. But Cellbit stops because it’s a kid.
Dying, he hears. Cucurucho, dyingdyingdyingdying-
Cautiously, he looks around. Empty streets, snow piling up in inches. Fucking cold, ice flying in the air. It’s gonna be a nasty storm, so he should really be getting home. But-
But it smells like blood.
So Cellbit hikes his bag up on his shoulder and steps out of the storm and into the alley, and he almost steps on a tiny dying hero.
“Oh,” he softly says, his body losing all its tension as he takes the kid’s broken appearance in. “Hello.”
The kid glares up at him. He’s… small. Just a bit bigger than Richarlyson, maybe. Standard Junior Hero uniform, mask over his eyes and nose, and a lot of blood.
“Stop staring,” the kid huffs. His teeth are chattering, and his lips are blue from the cold. “Just call the Feds for me.”
“Oh, sure,” Cellbit lies. He shuffles to the kid’s side to try and block out the worst of the wind, and then he crouches just a little, just enough to try and see what the damage is. But the kid scowls and curls in on himself, wincing as he moves.
Ribs, then. Cellbit recognizes that flinch, he’s seen it on enough of his victims.
Wounds are fresh, fresh enough for the kid to still be alive, anyway. Torso wounds suck. Easy to give, harder to make lethal.
Cellbit sighs and pulls out his phone. “Which one are you?”
He doesn’t have the Federation’s app downloaded (because fuck that), so he texts Forever instead; he’s the mayor, he’s gotta have some kind of Federation of Heroes Hotline going on. He’s probably awake. If not, well. Maybe the police can actually do something useful for once.
The kid’s chest puffs out despite the pain, and he says, “I’m Thorn, duh.”
He’s a child, that’s what he is. And he’s a fucking terrified one- Cellbit doesn’t need to use his ability to feel the fear coming off of him in waves. Because he’s a little boy who probably hasn’t seen his parents in years and he’s all alone in a storm dying and the villain who did this to him is still out there waiting.
Forever texts back: ‘🤬🤬🤬’
So he’s told the Feds, who probably have an evac team on the way. Because this is the leader of the most recent Junior Hero graduating class, and it’d be bad PR to let him die alone in a ditch somewhere in the city.
But, well… he’s a kid.
So Cellbit slides his phone back into his pocket and presses the back of his hand against Thorn’s cheek. Thorn hisses- fucking hisses- and tries to scoot away, but he can’t get too far with whatever injuries he’s got.
“Calma,” Cellbit says, letting his ability do its work, “I’m just checking for a fever. My son gets them all the time, I know exactly what I’m looking for.”
And, yeah, Thorn’s feverish. More importantly, though, he’s calm. His heartbeat evens out, and so does his breathing.
Thorn stares up at Cellbit in shock. “You’re a dad? No way!”
What the fuck?
“Of course I’m a dad!” Cellbit protests. “Look at me!”
He drops his hand from Thorn’s face and gestures towards his t-shirt, hand-painted by Richarlyson and reading, “World’s Okayest Dad”.
Thorn is not impressed. “You look homeless.”
And technically Cellbit is, but he isn’t just going to say that! Not to someone who’s technically his enemy.
So he huffs and crosses his arms and plays at being dramatic. (He’s got plenty of experience after dealing with Forever for so long.)
“Whatever,” he sulks. “You’re the one in a stinky alley. At least I have a shower.”
The kid’s lips twitch into a very hesitant little smile. Mission accomplished.
“Yeah, but you don’t use it,” he counters.
It’s a shame Richarlyson hates the Federation almost as much as he hates showers, because he and Thorn would probably get along pretty well. (Maybe Forever can set up a play date…)
Cellbit makes a show of smelling his jacket- clean, freshly washed. He makes a face, anyway, and Thorn giggles, and it’s kinda hard to hate the enemy when they’re made up of literal children.
“I never said I do my laundry,” Cellbit sniffs. “Do I look like I have that kind of money?”
“No!”
“Hey!”
The kid laughs, head thrown back. And then he grimaces and doubles over, eyes briefly squeezing shut.
Cellbit takes another look around the alley. Nobody’s there but the two of them, which makes sense. What kind of villain would stick around after supposedly killing the Federation’s Junior Hero poster child?
With a sigh, he settles down into the snow next to Thorn with his back against the chilly wall.
“You called them, right?” Thorn asks.
“I did better than that. I texted the mayor.”
Thorn snorts. “The mayor doesn’t have any friends, pendejo. He’s too busy being the mayor.”
Ouch.
“I’ll be sure to tell him you said that.”
“Tell him that I’m gonna beat him up, too.”
“What?” Cellbit gasps exaggeratedly. “Why would you want to do that? He’s the mayor.”
“He’s stupid. He wants to put the Junior Hero Program into schools so all the babies can join it.”
Thorn frowns. He’s not scared, Cellbit made sure of that, but he’s worried. A bit different, and unfortunately out of Cellbit’s wheelhouse.
“My son wants to join,” he says.
Thorn shakes his head. “Well, get him out of it. It’s not worth it, man. Too much homework.”
“I thought you were gonna tell me it’s too dangerous.”
“Nah, it’s pretty chill.” (Now that’s a lie.) “I spend most of my time doing paperwork.”
Cellbit frowns sympathetically. “Yuck.”
Thorn sticks his tongue out. “Yuck.”
And it keeps snowing. The colder it gets, the closer Thorn gets until he’s pressed up against Cellbit’s arm shivering. Hesitantly, slowly, Cellbit puts that arm around Thorn’s shoulders and lets him try and huddle for warmth as best he can.
“You’re a weirdo,” Thorn mutters.
“I’ve met weirder.”
“Nuh-uh.”
Cellbit rolls his eyes. Yeah, he and Richarlyson would be very good friends.
It’s quiet, and then:
“Can you make me scared again?”
Cellbit’s heart stops. “What?”
Thorn turns his head to give him an unimpressed look. “I’m not stupid. I won’t tell anybody, but it’d be weird if they show up and I’m super chill, you know?”
“But-”
“I’m a hero, man. Nothing scares me.”
He’s also a child.
Cellbit gives him back his fear, anyway, this time with a simple worried head-pat. Thorn grumbles and leans away from the touch, but he got what he wanted.
Cucurucho, Cellbit hears, and, for once, he agrees.
Tires from down the road. That’ll be the Feds.
“You’re a brave kid,” he says. He squeezes Thorn’s shoulder with an assuring smile. “Stay safe, okay?”
He stands, and he helps Thorn up as well.
“Whatever,” Thorn grunts. He swallows the pain and stands up straight and tall as the Federation’s van pulls in front of the alley and slows to a halt.
Cellbit watches Thorn get helped into the van, and he watches the van drive away, and he stands there in that alleyway until he’s cold enough to become a Cellbicicle.
Then, and only then, he looks down at the single red rose poking out of the snow where the kid had been sitting.
(Rumor has it Thorn only grows roses in honor of his parents, reportedly both deceased. Cellbit doesn’t know if that’s true or not, but he leaves the rose be, anyway.)
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More about the magical girl/hero au, but before that I want to say that it is 100% inspired by @anonymous-dentist's deli superhero au, cause that is sorta living in my head rent free rn soo,,, yeah
Anyway! The Federation creates the monsters in less actually making (most of) them and more in that they are researching/taking resources from another dimension that results in portals opening up in wherever this takes place (perhaps a large citystate thing on an island in the middle of the ocean idk) which then releases the monsters, and they've been doing this for decades, hence how the adults were also magical heroes in their youths.
A thing that also comes from this dimension are magical gems that allow younger folks to tap into the powers of the crystals to transform and use unique abilities. But these gems have to be surgically implanted to work :D, so the adults still have their gems, they just can't transform and the magic they can use is very weak. The Federation has eyes in all schools around the citystate that will pick out the best candidates for the program, and the most recent victims recruits happen to be the children of the first ever set of heroes, isn't that just an amazing coincidence? (It's not. The Federation has been keeping tabs on them, and well. These kids are too good to pass up, being around even dormant gems can greatly increase someone's magical potential.)
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The Fourth
A/N: I’m still here! I want to finish my bingo card - if you want to send me ideas check it out here and send me some asks!
Square for @marvelfluffbingo : College AU
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader, Sam Wilson x reader, Clint Barton x reader
Word count: 589
Warnings: PG for random swearing
Divder by the amazing @imerdwarf
2nd A/N: I minored in Euchre at college so this is completely based on RL... and yes I have always been friends with superheroes 😂
I would love any feedback/reblogs/love in general but my work is *NOT* permitted to be used in any other way, on any other sites, without my express permission
The best thing about your college campus was the common area, which people affectionately referred to as “The Chuckery.” The Chuckery had several fast food options, a deli counter, and pizza place, along with the campus bookstore and ticket counter on the main floor, while the floor below was home to the campus bowling alley. The floor above housed a movie theater that showed movies at least a year or two past their premier dates. It was the place to be, and you and your group of friends made sure to grab a table every morning to host the daily euchre games you had become addicted to. Normally, you could rely on your female friends Nat and Maria to sit in, as well as your classmate Erika. But today Nat and Maria were busy studying and Erika was working. Which left you with the guys…
“We need a fourth,” Bucky whined. You shook your head and grinned.
“We ALWAYS need a fourth,” Sam countered, “I thought it was your turn to find one.” Bucky glared at Sam who in turn stuck his tongue out in response. You laughed at your insanely goofy friends.
A familiar face approached and you couldn’t resist roping him into the fun. “Clint! Get your cute ass over here.” The rest of your group snickered as Clint approached and fell into the seat next to Bucky, letting his bag sink to the floor.
Clint grabbed up the pile of cards and looked over at you. “We’re partners?” You nodded. “What’s trump?”
Sam scowled at Clint. “No one’s called it yet. It’s your partner’s call at the moment.”
You looked at your cards, then over at Clint, his face impassive as usual. Please let us have good cards! “Pass.”
Sam’s scowl deepened as glanced at his cards. “Who shuffled this deck? Oh yeah my partner. Pass.” Bucky flipped Sam off as Clint quietly called “spades.”
You tried to hide your grin as Bucky groaned. Bucky laid down his ace of hearts which you quickly killed with the nine of spades. Sam and Clint threw off-cards which you quickly scooped up before throwing down your ten of diamonds. Sam followed with another off-card while Clint threw his king of diamonds. Bucky chuckled as he took the pile with his ten of spades. The pace of the game came to a crawl as Bucky looked over his cards. “Come on partner,” Sam whined.
“I’m trying to strategize here,” he countered. “We COULD win this.” You chanced a glance over at Clint who was staring back at you, his face still impassive. Bucky thumbed the top of a card then groaned. “Fuck it,” and laid down the king of spades. Clint gave you the barest hint of a nod, so you held your breath as you laid down the ace of spades.
Sam glared at Bucky as he threw the queen of spades under the pile while Clint threw the jack of spades, then laid out the jack of clubs he had been clutching. “Yes!” you screamed in delight as Sam berated Bucky for at least the third time that day, tossing losing cards in with the rest. You grabbed the pile of cards and began shuffling.
“Clint, you are staying right there. You are clearly my lucky charm.” You laughed then bit your lower lip as you concentrated on the cards in your hands.
Clint chuckled and laid back into the chair, hands behind his head and right leg crossed over his left. “So who are we playing next?”
#marvelfluffbingo2022#bucky barnes x reader#clint barton x reader#sam wilson x reader#college au#fluff#bucky barnes fluff#clint barton fluff#sam wilson fluff#marvel characters#marvel fluff#marvel
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Title: Bold Defiance
Author: @saywhatjessie
Artist: @delicious-irony
Film: Megamind
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Wordcount: 33k
Rating: Teen
Summary:
“You, Bold Defiance?” Dean rolled his eyes. “You are so predictable.”
Castiel had been operating as ‘Bold Defiance,’ evil super-villain, for most of his life. It was the same thing, day after day: scheming, magicking, and getting inevitably foiled by The Guardian: the city’s acting superhero and Castiel’s childhood rival, Anna. It was a comfortable if not altogether productive routine. The periodic kidnapping of a journalist, Dean Winchester, didn’t hurt. But what happens when one side actually wins? What does a person do when the person who opposed them, the person who defined them, is gone?
Tags: Dean Winchester/Castiel, Wing!Fic, Superhero au, Technically an alien au, Journalist!Dean, Character death but not really, fake dating, kind of, mistaken identity, AGAIN, KIND OF, it’s complicated, arcane magic, Jack being cute, an extreme indictment of the prison system
Link to Fic.
Link to Art.
#spn movie big bang#spnmbb#jessjessthebest#saywhatjessie#deli#delicious-irony#megamind#spn cross over#crossover#xover#destiel#destiel fanfic#spn fanfic#wing!fic#superhero au#alien au#jack#dean#castiel
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i’ve been crazy over jimin recently do you have an recommendations? pwp, f2l , e2l i’ll take anything tbh
🌷 Here you go 🥰. I’ll probably make a Jimin Fic Recs post soon and it might have more.
Instant List | Jimin Fic Recs
Angst (I just remember them being more angsty)
Blooming Days @bluekyun
The Blue Notebooks @inktae - time travel au (pls read their other fics too!)
Call Me Baby @rookiegukie
Faded Love @jamaisjoons
Hello @gyukult
Of Stars Erased @fantasybangtan - 01 02 (dystopian)
The Promised Iris @akinnie75 - #holygrailfic
Smut (has angst x fluff elements too)
Cupid's Bow @tayegi
Come My Way @lunar-jimin
Dress Code @dovechim
The Secrets Trilogy @avveh - 01 02 03
Sweeter than Sweet @minlucent (bakery au)
Turbulence - Accelerate @yminie
Unholy Cock-up @smoochkooks
Cookies by @sunkissedjk
Mile High Club & Business Meets Pleasure @geniuslab
Point of No Return @wwilloww (F2L)
Strip @yoonia - 01 02 03 (stripper!au, part of Bad for You)
@/btssmutgalore - Sin City, Class President
Fluff (it has smut x angst elements too, fluff is more dominant)
Equinox @crystaljins - King of Spring!Jimin x Queen of Winter!reader
Our Little Family @nightbts - single dad x teacher!reader
Pull of the Tides @goldenscript - (light smut) (surfer au)
Summer Synchrony @seokkgenie
Twenty-eight Minutes @taegularities - I just read this! A cute drabble
Happily Glazed @bubmyg - fake dating au
Locked in Love @parkmuse - Chrismtas au
Star Light, Star Bright @readyplayerhobi - single dad x tattoo artist
Others
Blue Blood @joonbird - prince!jimin x royal guard!reader (read every fic of theirs)
Catch Your Drift @snackhobi - 01 02 (drift racer)
Induratize (ongoing) @hobiwonder - 01 02 03 04 05
Ignorantly, Yours @ot7always - wolf!au, alpha!jimin x omega!reader
Oh, What a World @cutechim - link is not available though! but please check some other day (fallen idol, arranged marriage)
Tentacledipity @jincherie - part of the Wanted (jk) universe
Would I Choose You [6/6] @/crystaljins - superhero!jimin x sidekick
Neon Seoul @/readyplayerhobi - cyberpunk detective au (I love cyberpunk aus 🥰)
Enemies to Lovers | Jimin (it gets its own section because I love E2Ls)
About Last Night by @sehunpeachy (I think I rb this before)
The Airport Couple @dovechim @/jimlingss - 01 02 drabble
Battle of Brains @cupofteaguk - hogwarts
Failure to Communicate @stutterfly
Foul Play @kimvtae (sports au)
He’s Pretending + Drabble @/crystaljins - demon!jimin x faerie!reader
Our Get Along Shirt @dreamyjoons
Peaches & Piercings @jksangelic - 01 02 (cheerleader x punk!jimin)
Quid Pro Quo by @/fantasybangtan
@gukyi‘s Jimin fics (she’s the queen of E2L fics)
@jimlingss masterlist - I recommend everything, including other member’s 😁. But if you need to start with something, I recommend:
A Serpent’s Flower + Sowing a Sapling
The Colour of our Voices - part of the Slice of Life series
Worshipers of the Spring (part of the Worshiper series, a must read)
Deli Diaries
Other fics in my current reading list (read with me 😊)
Dreaded Neighbors @99liners
The Alpha @ladyartemesia
Erised @/jamaisjoons
Raise the Barre @/kpopfanfictrash
My Go-to Authors for Jimin Fics:
I recommend going through the Jimin section of these authors’ masterlist:
@/dovechim @/readyplayerhobi @btssmutgalore @kpopfanfictrash @/gukyi (for your E2L needs)
Please note that the fics are NOT mine. Please show these authors love by reblogging their fics, giving them feedback, and engaging in any positive interaction you can think of! 🥰
#🌷 chats#ggukkierecommends#ggukkiereadingcollection#jimin#jimin fanfic#jimin x reader#jimin fic recs#jimin angst#jimin smut#jimin fluff#jimin enemies to lovers#asks#anon#bts fanfic#bts fic recs#bts x reader
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bts fic recs : jimin
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legends
fluff [ ✾ ] ; angst [ ✫ ] ; smut [ ❦ ] ; social media [ ☏ ]
PARK JIMIN
headcanons
unavailable
drabbles
✫ destroyer of worlds | apocalyptic! au — @readyplayerhobi
✾ tracing i love you into your skin | established relationship! au — @bubmyg
one-shots
✾ p(ass)enger from hell | airport! au — @dovechim
✾ soliloquy | angel! au — @kinktae
✾ warmth | barista! au — @sintatae
✾ october 13th | birthday! au — @heungtanbts
✾ i think i'm . . . | birthday! au — @kpopisthereasonihavenolife
✾ for me, it’s you | childhood friends! au — @kpopfanfictrash
✾ ✫ nothing a lil’ green can’t fix | childhood friends! au — @threeletterslife
✾ memories of old and new | christmas! au — @thatmultifandomhoe
✾ mutual muses | christmas! au — @army-author
✾ ✫ presage | clairvoyant! au — @eleventoes
✾ dandelion | college! au — @/kpopisthereasonihavenolife
✾ rich kid | college! au — @gukyi
✾ ✫ say anything | college! ay — @minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong
✾ ✫ sinner | costars! au — @psycho-slytherin
✾ ✫ 3:00 am | dancers! au — @bigheartedsky
✾ ❦ insert quippy title here | deadpool! au —@/readyplayerhobi
✾ pizza crush | delivery guy! au — @v-hope
✾ kiss the girl | disney! au — @sketchguk
✾ ✫ taboo attachment | demon! au — @/kpopisthereasonihavenolife
✾ ✫ ❦ the devil’s own luck | demon! au — @jimlingss
✾ earnestly yours | drama club! au — @/gukyi
✾ ✫ honey | established relationship! au — @bangtanfancamp
✫ serendipity | established relationship! au — @pasteljeon
✾ somewhere only we know | established relationship! au — @golden-yoongi
✾ ✫ type 2 | established relationship! au — @/thatmultifandomhoe
✫ wrecked | exes! au — @hollyhomburg
✾ ✫ yeah, i'm drunk and you're wearing my t-shirt | exes! au — @taetaespeaches
✾ starburst | extra-terrestrial! au — @justimajin
✾ ✫ azure blue | fairy! au — @/jimlingss
✾ ✫ partiality | family! au — @jiminimoon
✾ ✫ a kiss of poison | fantasy! au — @/jiminlingss
✾ ✫ crystal snow | fantasy! au — @minniepetals
✾ ✫ equinox | fantasy! au — @crystaljins
✾ ❦ cupid’s bow | friends to lovers! au — @tayegi
✾ ❦ meddling | friends to lovers! au — @joonsgalore
✾ ✫ oh my my my | friends to lovers! au — @ughseoks
✫ cry me a galaxy | guardian angel! au —@/army-author
✾ schrödinger’s cat | guardian angel! au — @/dovechim
✾ ✫ ❦ bloom | hanahaki! au — @jamaisjoons
✾ poster boy | high school! au — @versigny
✾ ✫ amortentia | hogwarts! au — @jkslug
✾ ✫ ❦ blood runs pure | hogwarts! au — @opaljm
✾ boats against the current | hogwarts! au — @/gukyi
✾ ✫ lonely | hogwarts! au — @btsinned
✾ the howler | hogwarts! au — @bangtan-insfired
✾ ✫ noise of the jungle | idolverse! au — @glassbangtan
✾ ✫ heartbreak insurance | love service! au — @/jimlingss
✾ ✫ ❦ faded love | marriage! au — @/jamaisjoons
✾ ✫ ‘til death due us part | marriage! au — @/jimlingss
✾ ✫ beneath the water | merman! au — @jungshookz
✾ fairytail | merman! au — @/gukyi
✾ ✫ 20 things ( and counting ) i hades about you | mythology! au — @/readyplayerhobi
✾ ✫ astilbe | mythology! au — @hoonieistrash
✾ ✫ eden | mythology! au — @/kpopisthereasonihavenolife
✾ ✫ ❦ worshippers of the spring | mythology! au — @/jimlingss
✾ cordially, jimin | office! au — @/kpopfanfictrash
✾ ✫ ephemera | penpals! au — @akinnie75
✾ ✫ ❦ park jimin’s cock(pit) | pilot! au — @/jimlingss
✾ ✫ ❦ lost and found | rehab! au — @kimvtae
✾ ✫ ❦ blue blood | royal! au — @joonbird
✾ ✫ pick pocketing the crown jewels | royal! au — @/glassbangtan
✫ heraklion station | sci-fi! au — @/readyplayerhobi
✾ ❦ star light, star bright | single parent! au — @/readyplayerhobi
✾ ✫ find our way | skater boy! au — @cupofteaguk
✾ ✫ ❦ daffodil rings | soulmate! au — @vanaera
✾ ✫ ❦ eternal sunlight | soulmate! au — @kidguk
✾ ✫ even so | soulmate! au — @itsamejin
✾ ✫ lottery | soulmate! au — @rubycoast
✾ ✫ twist of fate | soulmate! au — @ttttaehyungie
✾ ✫ ❦ perfect pebble | strangers to lovers! au — @sincerelyourfangirl
two-shots / three-shots / series
✾ ✫ defense mechanism | art school! au — @evangelene
✾ ✫ if the shoe fits | ballet! au — @stars-that-shine-at-night
✾ ✫ colour of our voices | broadway! au — @/jimlingss
✾ ✫ ❦ i'll never be her | complicated relationship! au — @anon-luv
✾ ✫ ❦ a remedy for mondays | coworkers + fake pregnancy! au — @/dovechim
✾ the deli diaries | coworkers! au — @/jimlingss
✾ ✫ interference | crime mystery! au — @minnochu
✾ ✫ no stage | dancers! au — @becomingbts
✾ ❦ love me now? | devil! au — @/kpopisthereasonihavenolife
✾ ✫ ❦ temporary bliss | fake dating! au — @/sincerelyourfangirl
✾ ✫ magic & mysteries | fantasy! au — @/jimlingss
✾ ✫ just happened to be | gang! au — @/evangelene
✾ ✫ ❦ a serpent’s flower | hogwarts! au — @/jimlingss
✾ ✫ the parting | reaper! au — @/minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong
✾ home is where the heart is | single parent! au — @bangtanfanfiction
✾ ✫ our little family | single parent! au — @nightbts
✾ ✫ the promised iris | soulmate! au — @/akinnie75
✾ ✫ would i choose you? | superhero! au — @/crystaljins
#this took so ridiculously long#and now i have a killer headache and backpain#hello to all 57 talented writers in��this list#park jimin#jimin fic rec#bts fic recs#bts x reader#jimin x reader#jimin x y/n#jimin x you#jimin series#jimin one shot#jimin scenario#jimin drabble#jimin fluff#jimin angst#jimin smut
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she is very long so. enjoy😌
- Steve n Bucky going to the bodega down the street from their apartment. it’s open till like 4am and they go at all hours. sometimes they’ll go separately but they always go together when they go in between 12-4 am and no one who works there questions why
- they get a cat that they treat her like their child. it’s Alpine ofc😌 steve loves her so much but he knows it’s Bucky’s Cat and he’s fine with it
- you know how some siblings or partners or friends can communicate with their eyes and basically have telepathy? they totally have that and it annoys the shit out of every single person they meetjdksndks. someone will be talking to them and they will just make eye contact with each other bc it reminded them of an earlier convo they had or they both got annoyed by the other person or it reminds them of an inside joke or something and it just irritates EVERYONE. no one is able to intercept it and it’s just a thing that no matter what - even though they don’t mean to - you’ll feel a little left out when you’re with steveandbucky. it just comes with the gig. i like to imagine that depending on if it’s an au or not, its either really obvious or not. like in an au then yes it’s obvious they can have non verbal conversations, but if it’s not an au then it’s not entirely obvious bc they’re enhanced humans and they know how to hide their secret conversations. but everyone they talk to is essentially an enhanced human or has special abilities so it’s obvious to them and they catch them in the act LOL. if they’re interacting with regular people then it’s not very obvious though
- DATE NIGHT!!! yes they’re old yes they have date night. when they go out it’s usually to places in their neighborhood, but a lot of the time they like to stay in bc. they’re old men <3 steve is better at cooking and bucky is better at baking bc you can get creative with cooking and steve likes that more. he enjoys baking a lot too but he thinks bucky’s stuff tastes better. whenever they stay home though there’s ALWAYS a movie. always. they alternate choosing but there is always a movie to watch. bucky usually falls asleep nearing the end and steve plays with his hair😌 he rolls his eyes cause it happens every time but he actually likes when it happens bc he can braid strands of hair together
- pet names oh my god. so many pet names. every single one. mainly from bucky. steve uses them but maybe like two. he favors sweetie and buck and that’s it really. sometimes he uses hon. bucky though oh my god. every single pet name under the sun. so many variations of doll you wouldn’t believe - baby doll ofc, dolly, stevie doll. sweetheart. sweetness. blondie. pretty boy. hot stuff. stevie. baby. hon. honey. sunshine. angel. it’s just so many. and it’s like very sickening insane twisted etc but hot at the same time. most people are like jeez barnes do you ever shut up… but most of these people secretly think it’s a little hot theyre thinking damn where is that affection for me…. i need me a bucky barnes :| steve is the only smitten kitten outwardly even if he huffs and puffs sometimes but it’s obvious he enjoys it. like they are so annoyingjdkssn for real they aren’t a pda couple really but the petnames….. so many. so so so many it’s sickeningly sweet but bucky dgaf! steve is his sweetheart his dolly his baby his angel so he’s going to call him these things!
- steve knows his body is what is considered “perfect” but he still is insecure about it around most people and bucky knows this so when steve lounges at home in bucky’s boxer briefs and his own tee shirt or he kicks off his pants when he’s too hot at night in bed bucky is reminded of just how much steve loves him and feels comfortable around him which is something he always strives for - to make steve comfortable. not baby him because steve bitches at anyone that does that to him but to make him feel comfortable
- and on the subject of feeling comfortable i imagine that they always check in with one another but it’s very subconscious they hardly realize they do it. like steve will bitch at bucky to pick up his shoes from their doorway or to clean his hair from the shower drain but the next second he will ask him if his back still hurts from being kicked by sam and from where steve AND alpine scratched him (in very different ways)
- steve is the sweater husband and bucky is the sweatshirt husband. they trade off a lot but that’s just how their closets look
- steve takes a liking to crop tops 😌 but ONLY around the house bc again he’s really truly only comfortable around bucky. he wears em with boxer briefs or sweatpants but you can guarantee that the briefs and sweats usually just end up on the floor 9 out of 10 times
- hair ties everywhere. they can be found on the floor in the laundry in their bed in the couch on top of the fridge on their fire escape. they are literally everywhere. steve just picks them up and puts them in the bathroom but they always make their way back. he doesn’t say anything to bucky until he finds alpine chewing one and she ends up smacking herself in the face with the hairtie
- their fridge is always full with leftovers and food from sam or clint’s or whoever’s house or takeout. they always eat it all but they get and make a lot of food so the fridge is always full
- subconsciously bucky always has a hand on the back of steve’s neck. like it’s not ENTIRELY a possessive thing but he used to do it a lot when steve was small because it was easy and it was comfortable. for him and just for him and steve. it was like swinging an arm around steve’s shoulders or putting a hand on his shoulder. it was just natural and easy so he did it. a part of him back then prewar did it possessively too, but he always tampered that down bc steve wasn’t his. now he does it without shame
- steve really likes tofu and vegan meat, non dairy milk like almond and soy, and overall a lot of non dairy vegan foods, and a lot of fruits. he gets made fun of for a lot specifically about the vegan stuff but his reasoning is that there’s so much food accessible for people with allergies in the future that he wished existed a hundred years ago so he’s going to try it and stick with it if he likes it. people shut up after that
- he also tips a little more than he needs to everywhere he goes. everywhere. like it’s cool when steve rogers walks in to a restaurant bc he’s a superhero or whatever but its REALLY cool because he leaves a generous tip and that’s what really makes peoples day
- before they get legally married they are still very much married. like “i packed you lunch, meet me at the restaurant instead of me going to pick you up bc it’ll take longer, i got takeout let’s bitch together while we watch shitty reality tv, let’s bitch at EACH OTHER through the phone in public, let’s send each other ugly pictures of each other or funny texts while we’re right next to each other, i’m out with a group and you’re not there and i say multiple times ‘i miss steve/bucky’, let’s yell at each other from opposite ends of the apartment instead of getting up to see each other, steve i’m going to fuck you on the couch bc our room is too far, etc.” they are just very much married without the documents and legalities and it’s very obvious
okay all of these were ABSOLUTELY wonderful and im really going to restrain my urge to respond to each and every one but that might be futile
-okay YES they definitely go to that bodega at all hours, and usually it's for normal things when they go separately: milk, cereal, toilet paper. but when they go in the middle of the night, they almost always purchase some like odd assortment of candies and deli meat. also, they're always in their pajamas. like bucky's in plaid pj pants and a star wars sweatshirt, and steve is in like 5" shorts and a huge crewneck and they're both in slides and they definitely only speak russian to each other when they're in there after hours
-yes alpine! they also have a dog, that is more steve than bucky's!! his name is norman in my headcanon (and a couple of my fics) and he is best boy
-okay i need more of this in my general stucky life: steve and bucky being like,,, best friends as well as lovers and being so seamlessly close. like yeah, they definitely talk with their eyes, or just one glance, or half-sentences ("hey, did you ever get to--" "yup, on the way home. it was so--" "yeah, good. glad to hear") and they know exactly what the other is saying.
-yes to the date nights!!! and when they stay in to watch movies, they make Tons of popcorn. and they Have to make separate batches, because steve will Only eat his with like half a bottle of that powdered white cheddar on his
-YES we share the same fucking headcanon for petnames on god
Steve: love you, buck:)
Bucky: love you, pumpkin
-Steve definitely has body dysmorphia, probably even post serum (I have lots of thoughts on this, that might be a different post) and yeah, Bucky definitely knows its Big that he feels comfortable enough to be exposed around him (and he's even more honored that steve lets him be intimate with him, because that's really hard for steve, too)
-yeah! and easy check ins like "ur stomach still bothering you from last night?" "oh, no it was just a little bug turns out" or like "my head hurts:(" "i have meds in my bag. you want?" "yeah, just two" or like subtly checking on injuries, yeah
-yeah the sweater versus sweatshirt tracks tbh i picture steve in a lot of crewnecks so yeah
-STEVE IN CROP TOPS STEVE IN CROP TOPS and i raise you they're often ones he's cropped himself and he's also painted on! or bleach painted!! and theyre so cool and bucky never wants to make a big deal out of it, but he's so proud of steve for expressing himself like that
-ALPINE SMACKING HERSELF ALKFJALSDKFJA also steve always has a hairtie on HIS wrist in case bucky forgets one for himself
-they also always have Steve Staple Foods cuz i headcanon steve as a picky eater (adhd!steve + serum enhancements, it's down to a formula) so they have a lot of Kraft mac and cheese and easy heat up meals and lunch meats around for when he's having bad food days
-OMG and steve absolutely MELTS i raise you, too, bucky will especially hold the back of his neck when he needs to get steve to Chill Out. so like if he sees him stressing he'll put his hand on the back of his neck and squeeze and literally feel the tension drain from him or like if steve is having a panic attack, he'll hold the back of his neck while they breathe together
-yes and also any time that steve is Choosing food for himself and feeling motivated to eat it, it's a win, so people learn to back off there, too
-yes! he tips generously, but never awkwardly or offensively. he's also super kind and patient to food service workers!
-this last point is so perfect i cant. like yeah, back to steve and bucky just being,,,, the best of friends. ugly selfies galore, shoving their feet in each other's face, flicking each others ears. and yes, all the fucking gossiping. on the phone gossip, venting, fun gossip from around work. they talk about it all. and it's so great for them
thank you again for stopping by! your thoughts are impeccable!
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“tapewebs”; a series 🕸
hanta sero is just your regular everyday japanese-american immigrant college student, living in the heart of brooklyn. when miles morales collapses on the windowsill of his shitty one bedroom apartment, life gets.... a hell of a lot more interesting 🕷
[a spiderman! sero au one shot series, featuring class 1-A, hanta sero, miles morales, an assortment of marvel villains, & you, dear reader - the object of one tapespider’s affections ✨]
[pairing; sero x gender neutral reader 🕸]
[warnings; fluff, violence, action, angst, romance, & a lot of tape/spider puns 🕸]
“Sticky Note Origins”
───── ⋆🕸⋆ ─────
the city is prettier up high, sero realizes. granted, he wishes he’d come to that conclusion on solid ground, without his feet nervously planted on a skyscraper ledge, but still.
every whip of wind threatens to topple him over, send him careening down into a frenzied spiral of buildings and colors until he meets concrete at the bottom - and he’s supposed to willingly jump.
he wonders if he’ll pass out before his bones meet solid mass, cracking in so many different ways the coroner’ll have to play connect the fragments until he’s a person again.
behind him, an impatient cough sounds, bringing him back to the task at hand. fuck.
you’re probably wondering how he got here. let’s rewind a week.
one week earlier
at ten pm on a friday, the city is in its prime, bustling crowds of people laughing and stumbling through the brightly colorful streets. hanta’s just trying to protect his pad thai & dumplings, hugging the greasy paper bag to his chest as he weaves in and out of the chaos.
a day full of long classes & a quiet shift at the cafe-slash-bookstore halfway between campus and his crap one bedroom apartment leaves him exhausted, shoulders hunched as he makes his way home. nobody ever sees him regardless - the city’s too big for one lanky, always tired beanpole to be much notice.
despite living in brooklyn since he was four, he’s never felt a hundred percent comfortable here - he had an accent right up until he was thirteen, still trips over certain words and customs that don’t exist back home in japan. he’s awkwardly tall, not enough to be a phenomenon but towering over all his family. he just doesn’t quite fit anywhere - too smart and plain to be popular, too boring to be with the jokesters, too awkward for the nerds. he’s been a loner all his life, and while he doesn’t mind too much, he just wishes it was a little easier to belong.
a text rolls across his phone screen as he’s shuffling songs, skipping some j-pop rock song to settle on kendrick lamar as he smiles. you. he couldn’t lie and say he was completely alone, not when he had you in his life.
you were a year younger than him but twice as smart, skipping a year ahead and landing yourself in hanta’s high school freshman english class. the pair of you had just... clicked, from the very first moment he pointed to shakespeare’s likeness on the cover and mocked “what, you egg?!”
your laughter had left him on cloud nine the entire day, and he made it his personal mission to hear that beautiful little giggle at least once a day for the rest of his life.
a lovely friendship had bloomed from there, the two of you joined at the hip - if you were somewhere, hanta was bound to follow & vice versa.
you’d even gotten into the same college, albeit for drastically different majors - he was a biochem/engineering double major, while you were an english/history double major. you were opposite but similar in so many ways, and the way you both completed each other didnt go unnoticed by sero.
you were his puzzle piece, the bits of him he’d never been able to fill easily made whole by your presence.
he could never tell you, however; your friendship was too precious to risk, especially over his dumb, emotional heart.
sending a string of laughing emojis towards the meme you sent, he jogs up the seven flights of dimly lit stairs to his tiny, one bedroom apartment - living in the city wasn’t cheap, & while the elevator was always busted at least he had a doorman, and heat that worked on occasion.
stepping into his apartment, however, he can immediately sense something is wrong; the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, a heavy silence coating the darkness. the air feels wrong, tipsy turvy like the whole place is holding its breath - like something’s on the verge of exploding, catapulting him into chaos and danger.
quietly stepping through the living room, he peeks into the kitchen and bathroom, holding his backpack out like a makeshift weapon - his $200 biology textbook finally going to good use. finding nothing in either dark room, he slowly advances towards his bedroom, carefully measuring every step. at first, the room seems perfectly normal - nothing’s been moved, and it’s just as empty as the rest of his apartment.
and then he sees the blood.
dotting his windowsill in bright, red streaks, the window itself pushed halfway open - but that’s not what stops him in his tracks, eyes so wide it hurts.
spiderman is leaning against his windowsill, covered in blood and panting heavily, one hand held up in an effort to stop hanta in his tracks.
“i need...... help,” he whispers, voice rough and low; hanta’s amazed he can still speak.
he opens his mouth to react, somehow, even steps forward to catch him before screaming like a ten year old girl at a morgue, panic setting in like cold water.
never a dull night in brooklyn.
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once he’s made sure that spiderman - miles, as the young man bleeding all over his $12 walmart carpet supplies - isn’t going to die anytime soon, hanta’s quick to recover from his shock. bustling around his tiny kitchen to make cheap ramen and digging around in his closet to find his mini first aid kit, he’s in full fanboy mode - he’s got posters plastered wall to wall of miles morales on his bedroom walls, for gods sakes. not that he knew it was miles morales, but still.
miles morales is curled up in the fleece blanket hanta’s mom had sent him his second week at college, and he’s totally not freaking out.
he’d had to cancel his nightly facetime call with you, lying about a stomach bug - he hates keeping things from you, but this is just too big and messy and dangerous. he’ll tell you in due time, he promises himself, trying to ease the coil of guilt in his stomach.
“how did you end up on my windowsill, again?” hanta asks, gently pushing the bowl of noodles towards the injured man. he’s got his own pad thai long forgotten in the microwave, more focused on the superhero who’d gotten his ass whooped on his doorstep, so to speak.
“i told you. i’d been watching you for a while - you’re the most promising candidate i have.” miles’ voice is slick with humor, a sort of teasing confidence that’s clear even through the pain.
“which i’m still not understanding - candidate for what? blood services? biology questions? how to make $20 last two weeks??” he knows he’s being childish, too joking for the severity of the situation, but he can’t help it. the neighborhood’s - and his own - hero is sitting in front of him, eating shitty 33¢ ramen from the bodega around the corner, telling him he’s a prime candidate.
“to take the mantle.” all traces of laughter are gone now, miles leaning forward on the table to emphasize his words. “i’ve been doing this long enough to know when to quit. my body’s giving out on me - i got slammed into a wall last week and couldn’t shake the pain till yesterday. before, i’d be fine within an hour. the city needs someone new, young, willing to take the risks.”
hanta’s ears stopped listening the moment he heard quit. “me? are you fuckin’ joking?” he wheezes, coughing his way past the shock. “i get winded walking up to my apartment! an old lady beat me to the c train yesterday! a strong wind could kick my ass!”
miles is either willfully ignoring him or just can’t hear, plowing ahead with his explanation. “you’ve got the perfect build for webswinging, and you’ve got a good heart - you know when to do the right thing and when to step away. leave the rest up to me, and trust me - i know what i’m doing.”
hanta can’t believe his ears, pushing away from the table to pace around his kitchen in panic. “i don’t till you understand, you’ve got the wrong guy - there’s no way i could be spiderman!” his words are falling on deaf ears - miles is standing too, and he doesn’t seem to care about hanta’s impending panic.
“you’ve got to trust me on this, alright? meet me tomorrow, at this address - 12 pm sharp. the city needs you, hanta - hell, i need you. just have a little faith.”
hanta scoffs at that, throwing his hands in the air. “faith?! i met you an hour ago, bleeding all over my windowsill! that’s not exactly the most- hey! where the hell...” there’s nothing but a blanket, a hastily scrawled address, and an empty bowl where miles had sat, leaving hanta alone with his thoughts.
damnit.
───── ⋆🕸⋆ ─────
hanta pushes through the crowds of people at eleven am the next morning, half asleep but wired enough to power the whole city - hell, the whole goddamned country. he’s running on no sleep, adrenaline, two redbulls & the guilt of lying to you again, his “stomach bug” keeping him from class. he’d told you he was going to visit his parents for the weekend to recover; your sweet messages in response only made him feel worse.
he’s tossed and turned over this decision a million times & yet, he’s still not sure where he stands - it’s so little information, so much responsibility in so little time. he’s still half convinced he’s being punked, if he’s honest.
and yet, somethings drawing him to the address miles had left him, something deep in his gut that tells him he needs to be there. clearly, miles had seen something he himself is woefully oblivious to, and it couldn’t hurt to find out more.
apple maps leads him to a tiny shed somewhere behind a deli & a nail salon, not too far from his apartment, and he’s completely confused. “stupid gps, probably got me lost,” he whines, leaning against the door of the shed to zoom in on his location.
the pigeons in the alley are the only ones to hear his panicked yelling as he phases right through it, tumbling all the way down a metal chute into the dark unknown.
at least, for ten seconds. he lands on a remarkably soft pad of foam, a glass panel separating him from a brightly lit, fancy looking room lined wall to wall with computers, parts and half made suits, spiderman suits. he doesn’t know where to look first.
a robotic, feminine voice brings him out of his shock, the glass panel lighting up with code and writing.
“please enter your name.” hanta is floored.
“uh.. hanta sero?” the voice trills lightly, before a red grid-like laser scans him head to toe. he’s proud to admit he only squealed in terror once.
“identity confirmed. welcome, hanta.” the panel slides away to allow him access, his careful steps alerting the rest of the room’s computers to light up at his arrival.
“you came. i knew i chose wisely.” miles comes into view slowly, limping heavily as he smiles. it’s almost familiar, like he & hanta have been friends for years; he finds it comforting.
“well, not everyday you get to be spiderman,” hanta jokes, fidgeting a little where he stands. “you gonna fit me for a suit or something?” miles just laughs, shaking his head.
“that comes later. first, we’ve got to get you bitten.”
bitten?
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for the third time in 24 hours, hanta’s screaming like a man who’s just been told he has two days to live.
“you want me to let that thing bite me?! have you lost your mind?!”
miles sighs patiently, holding up the little glass vial to the light; inside, the spider races up and down the glass, an odd orange color to its patterning.
“it’s the only way. no offense, but i saw that lady beat you to the c train. she was like, 85.” hanta’s pouting now, crossing his arms.
“she had a cane and she was agile- hey hey! you keep that thing away from me, so help me god-“
“you’re being dramatic, it’s the size of a pea-“
“that’s a fat ass fuckin’ pea-“
“stay still-“
“i will not- ow! jesus fuck, that thing has tarantula jaws!”
miles carefully shepherds the spider back into the glass, chuckling a little. “it’ll take a moment to cause effect. the original spider was cross-bred with a more agile, lanky species - perfect for your body type. i’m hoping it’ll be most effective in your transition.”
“hoping?” hanta squeaks, staring at the red welt forming on his hand - his visions already starting to blur out, a throbbing pain traveling up his arm.
“well, it’s the first time i’m experimenting with this-“
“you used me as a guinea pig?!”
“it’s perfectly safe! my mentor-“ but hanta’s not listening anymore, the world swimming in front of his eyes before the ground rushes up rapidly to kiss his face.
god. damnit.
when he comes to, he’s wrapped in about half the blankets in brooklyn, a cold compress against his sweaty forehead. he’s burning up, and his elbows hurt for some reason - his skins gone all itchy, and he’d probably kick a pigeon for a glass of water.
sitting up alerts miles to his newly conscious state, the man quickly scanning his vitals with a smaller version of the glass panel hanta’d been fascinated with earlier. “thought you were gonna croak on me. how do you feel?”
“itchy. and my arms hurt.” hanta’s pushing off the blankets as he speaks, attempting to get comfortable - his body feels weird, like he’ll burst out of his skin at any second.
“alright, don’t panic. i need to see how it’s mutated your body. stay still.” miles’ fingers delicately press against his neck, shoulders, before jabbing at his ribs without warning. hanta’s arms shoot up on impulse, a trail of sticky, precise webbing escaping him from his...... elbows?!
“what the fuck, dude what the fuck look at my elbows, they’re all puffy and red i’m gonna die, and the coroner is gonna leak my story to the press and my moms gonna see me in the paper with fucked up elbows-“ hanta may or may not be panicking, poking at the tender, slightly swollen skin around the bends of his arms. miles just rolls his eyes, clearly amused by his antics.
“you’re not going to die. japanese tape spiders shoot webbing from the bends of their eight arms; its a thicker & stronger strain of web. clearly, your elbows are how your body has adjusted.”
“that doesn’t make it better.” hanta’s too busy staring at himself to notice the other changes at first, but slowly, they’re trickling in. heightened eyesight and hearing, an odd balance to his feet he hadn’t had a day ago, even itchier fingertips - making it easier for him to grip flat surfaces, or at least as miles says.
“come on. let’s get you a suit.”
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a week’s worth of planning & adjusting has led him right here to this rooftop, suited feet firmly balanced on the ledge. he likes his suit, thinks it’s unique - he’d modeled it after the spider who’d blessed him with these powers, orange and black and white [miles sort of thinks it’s ugly, but who cares.] he’d been in & out of the fondly nicknamed “spider-lounge”, getting fitted for his suit & honing his new abilities; he’d also been avoiding you whenever possible.
he couldn’t suck you into this world, not when he was barely comfortable in it himself; he kept promising himself he’d come clean, but the guilt’s eating him alive with every sad look & evening alone you spend.
another impatient cough brings him back to the present, miles sitting in the middle of the roof & watching hanta’s nervous stalling. “you’re going to have to jump eventually, you know,” he calls, and it takes everything in him not to turn tail and run.
he has a duty, a responsibility now, and he doesn’t take that lightly. he thinks of you, sitting in your ratty little apartment off campus and remembers that your safety is all but in his hands now; he’s got to protect the city, for your sake at least.
“i absolutely will not hesitate to kick you off this rooftop,” miles threatens, but its empty - they both know hanta needs to do this himself.
one step back, then two, the nerves racing up his spine as he prepares himself to meet cold concrete [a dramatic thought, miles would catch him far before he reaches ground. a bad knee wouldn’t stop him from that.] he says a silent prayer to every god he’s ever heard of and closes his eyes, taking a step forward into the air-
and trips over the ledge, falling ass over heels into the air. nice.
the rushing wind only heightens his panic for a moment, before one arm snaps up to blindly shoot into the air; his spider sense kicks in from there, aiming without even realizing and latching onto a nearby ledge. he swings aimlessly for a moment before finding a new ledge, then a railing; slowly, he finds a rhythm.
he’s soaring through the city before he realizes, laughing at the sharp roar of the wind in his ears - he feels like he’s flying, weightless as a bird. the only thing he can think of is you, how much you’d love this.
one day, he’ll take you webswinging. one day.
for now, he relishes in the fact that he’s one step closer to being brooklyn’s - & new york’s - new spiderman, fresh faced & determined to bring peace to the city.
he’s going to do it for you, even if it kills him.
#bnha sero#sero hanta x reader#sero hanta#spiderman au#sero x y/n#sero x you#sero x reader#bnha x y/n#bnha x you#bnha x reader#boku no hero fanfic#evywrites#tapewebs#one shot series#tapewebs series
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does it ever drive you crazy, just how fast the night changes?
baby’s first au whaaaaaat?
special thank you to @clumsyclifford for linking the prompt list i got this idea from! this was the prompt (it was a whole slew of celebrity AUs: “wait, you’re supposed to be DEAD and i just recognized you at the grocery store, turns out you just didn’t want to be a celebrity anymore” au. bella is also writing one from this list and it’s one of my most favorite lashton things i have ever read, highly recommend, 10/10, i could yell about hello, hello for ages omg
also here is the ao3 link if that’s your preferred way to read :)
There are few things that bring Luke as much joy as his Friday night (well, Saturday morning, really) grocery trips.
He had started working the night shift at the nurses’ desk at the children’s hospital about a year prior after graduating. He had found the job through the friend of a friend of a friend who was a nurse herself and mentioned the job needed filling fast. Luke had never really considered the idea of a night job but ultimately the work wasn’t all too bad. He made coffee every couple of hours (he made an effort to never let the pot empty which got him lots of smiles from the nurses) and every once in awhile Lina, the 6 year old cancer patient whose room was just around the corner from the brightly colored desk, would wander out to ask him to check for monsters under her bed and to be tucked back in. It was pretty simple (and heartwarming) work.
However, staying up through the night for 5 nights a week made it damn near impossible to be awake during the day on his weekends off. Luckily enough for Luke, he had friends like Michael who tended to play video games all night despite working through the day (he stopped questioning how he managed it a long time ago) and his favorite grocery store was a 24 hour location.
The first time Luke had come to do his shop at around 2am, he had felt a little spooked by the parking lot and eerie silence in between Top 40 songs that played over the intercom in the store. But he soon grew to find the general atmosphere pretty calming and he made friends with the nighttime stocker (a guy named Calum who also never saw himself doing nighttime work but here they were) and it became something he really looked forward to on his Saturday (very early) mornings.
He arrives at the store just a bit after 1am. He just finished ‘a late breakfast’ (he still always finds himself giggling at the concept of eating meals at opposite points in the day as everyone else despite the obvious logic to the schedule) and has a list tucked into the pocket of his sweats. It’s a little chilly out so he grabs the first sweater he sees on the backseat - a blue cardigan - since he knows they also keep the store pretty cool in the night to make sure everybody stays awake through their shift.
As he grabs one of the smaller carts as he heads into the store, he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulls out his list first and drops it into the baby seat of the cart and then grabs his phone. Luke’s faced with the wild selfie Michael set for his profile picture and he rolls his eyes as clicks the icon to answer the call.
“What’s up, Mikey?” he answers as he starts pushing the cart in the direction of the produce section.
“You at the store yet?” Luke can hear the clicking of the buttons on the controller in Michael’s hands.
“Yeah, just got in. You need anything?”
Michael then rambles off a short list that Luke jots down into his notes app since he doesn’t have a pen or anything with him. He assures his friend he’ll come drop off the odd collection of snacks and things (“They have to be the dinosaur shaped ones. I swear Luke they do taste better.”) once he finished up his shop of real groceries.
Luke wanders around the produce, picking out what fruits and veggies he wants to have around for the week. He takes his time finding the apples without the bruises, bananas that will be the perfect amount of ripe by midweek, some leafy bunches for the salad he’s been assigned to bring for the breakroom potluck on Tuesday. He’s checking out some strawberries that he thinks might be nice to toss into the mix too when a human sized figure appears in the corner of his vision.
It’s a man around his size (in similar cozy clothes) facing away from him. He’s got hair the opposite color to Luke’s bleached blonde. His messy black curls are pulled back into a tiny bun that mirrors Luke’s own. The other man is broad and has a tattoo of a bird across the back of his neck, just barely visible above the collar of a faded blue sweatshirt. The tattoo is one that seems oddly familiar to Luke, as though it belongs to someone he knows. The man begins to wander off toward the bakery section of the store though and Luke shrugs off the recognition, figuring it might be someone he’s seen around a waiting room in the hospital at some point. He settles on some strawberries and starts pushing his cart in the direction of the deli and meats.
As he stares at the different packages of chicken and breakfast sausages, he can’t help but think back on the man he saw though. There was something achingly familiar about him, and more than just the tattoo. He can’t shake the thought for some reason and finds himself jumping in surprise when he feels his phone buzz once again in his pocket.
He doesn’t even have to look to the screen to know that it’s Michael calling again to add something to his list. In fact, he happens to even know the items that his friend failed to mention the first time he called. Luke presses the accept button and lifts the phone to his ear.
“Froot Loops and the character shaped fruit snacks?”
“The superhero ones, if they have them please!”
*
Luke continues around the store, grabbing all the bits from his list (and Michael’s 12 year old boy list) and eventually lands in the dairy section. He grabs the yogurt he’s been mixing granola into for breakfast lately and some butter for the cookies his mom sent him a recipe for. Only thing left in terms of food is cereal milk and coffee milk (2% and oat, respectively, of course). When he looks up from the list to make his way over to the fridges containing the plethora of milks, he is faced once again with the familiar stranger.
Except this time, as he catches just the briefest glimpse of the man’s face, of his hazel eyes and strong jawline, he realizes this isn’t a stranger. Very much not a stranger. It’s Ashton Irwin, the host of at least three of those reality dating shows he forces Michael to watch with him on the weekends since he can’t watch them when they air live on Monday and Tuesdays.
Or, well, he was the host of all of those shows until about two months ago.
Because Ashton Irwin has been dead for two months due to a freak heart attack while on vacation on some remote island.
Luke glances away from him for a moment in a panic. Has he completely lost it? Have the late nights finally gotten to him and he’s starting to actually see things that don’t exist? Was Calum right all along and the store really is haunted? (Though it's a little lost on him why a star TV host would want to haunt a grocery store. And not even a good one like that Whole Foods in Downtown.)
Then he realizes that perhaps he was just wrong. (Though now that he thinks about it, he very much remembers liking an Instagram picture of that tattoo on Ashton Irwin’s account a couple years back.) He’s far enough down the aisle from him that he can chance a look at the man without being caught. So, slowly, Luke turns again just slightly to look toward him.
It’s the hair that left him not immediately making the recognition. His hair has been dyed black, a stark contrast to his signature dark red but definitely a change that likely doesn’t draw as much attention. The sweatshirt he’s paired with black skinny jeans is pretty baggy and it’s a damn shame because Luke knows he has the arms of a god.
(Something Luke knows from the tabloid covers he glances at from time to time at the pharmacy and the summer version of the show that Ashton hosted, of course. He most definitely has never searched up his name + ‘biceps’ before. Never.)
But despite the obvious attempt to match the look and aesthetic of ‘2am grocery shopper’ he's still very unmistakably Ashton Irwin.
As Luke grapples with this new knowledge that apparently this person he thought was dead is not dead and also apparently goes to the same grocery as him, he fails to notice that Ashton has turned to face him and that he is still staring at him in shock.
Very quickly, Ashton’s face comes to mirror Luke’s expression and he’s rushing toward the blonde in a state of terror.
“Please don’t say anything,” he gasped in a hushed voice. The accent similar to his own that Luke has grown used to hearing on his TV sticks out some in his panicked words.
“How? I - uh? Are you,” Luke trips over every syllable that comes out of his mouth as he attempts to let his brain wrap around the situation. “Are you a ghost?”
The feared look of the black haired man actually fades some as he lets a quiet giggle escape (a very cute giggle, if Luke is being honest). “I’m, uh, not a ghost. No. Though I guess that does kind of accurately explain what I’m trying to be.”
Now Luke is even more confused. Based on the statement, he obviously wasn’t making up all of the tabloid stories he had seen about Ashton dying but something isn’t adding up to the present moment. “I don't-”
“Listen, if you’re going to go tell the press, can you at least give me like,” he glances down at his phone screen displaying the time. “2 hours to get back out to my friend’s place where I’ve been hiding?”
It’s now Luke’s turn to laugh. “You do realize if I go to some paparazzi or something and tell them I saw deceased Ashton Irwin wandering around my grocery store trying to decide between hazelnut and cashew milk they would just laugh in my face, right?”
The statement causes Ashton to look down at his hands to the milks in his hands. He sighs down at the cartons before tossing both of them in the cart. “Guess you’re not really wrong.”
“Is someone pulling some kind of long-winded, over the top prank on me right now? Am I being punk’d?” Luke asks, his head tilting some in a way that would normally have Michael making fun of him for the child-like behavior. “Because I know for a fact that I am not worth that much effort.”
The questions have Ashton smiling a bit again and Luke suddenly finds himself wanting to say increasingly dumb things so long as it’ll keep the hazel-eyed man smiling. “No, no. Not at all. I just,” his smile falters some, leaving his lips still turned up but his eyes drop some. “I started to get a little sick of the world and the world started getting a bit sick of me, I think.” Luke wonders if Ashton knew just how heavy his words feel.
He scoffs then, as if hearing Luke’s silent question. “Wow, sorry that was really dramatic,” Ashton shakes his head a bit before continuing. “Hi, I’m Ashton.”
Luke looks down to the tanned arm being stretched out toward him. He lifts a hand from his shopping cart and wraps it around Ashton’s. “I’m Luke.”
Ashton brightens again as he shakes his hand. “Well, Luke, you’re the first person other than my current landlord of sorts that I’ve come across since literally dying in the eyes of the media. So I guess I owe you an explanation? Since it seems like you’re familiar with that media viewpoint?”
Ashton moves to start pushing his cart in the direction of another area of the store but peers over his shoulder and gestures with his head to follow him. Luke quickly reaches into the fridge on his left to grab the rest of his dairy before catching up to him. “Well, you really don’t owe me anything. I don’t know you beyond what I see of you on my TV screen,” Luke wonders then if maybe he should have played it a bit cooler and not told the cute, presumed dead TV star that he watches his shows. “But I am a bit confused by whatever is going on and would like to hear anything you’re willing to share.”
“Cute and polite,” Ashton muses, avoiding Luke’s eye as he continues forward toward the packaged food aisles. “You’re already checking boxes, Luke.”
Some kind of intelligible noise falls from Luke’s lips as he feels a blush rush up to his cheeks because he’s flirting with him. Ashton only laughs and starts his story.
“Well Luke, you seem to be aware of what I did for a living up until about 2 months ago. I’ve been doing this job for like, about 5 years and before every new season of anything, there’s all these big network and programming meetings about production and filming and such. And every single time, I get hounded by our ratings people because I apparently don’t do enough to instigate and promote drama. Like my contract was getting threatened like three times a year because rather than trying to make peoples’ lives miserable, I just want to help them fall in love.
“And so at this particular meeting, about two and half months ago, just before the ‘accident’,” he punctuates the word with air quotations. “I got the boot. Ratings from the previous season were down by 3% and all of the uppers decided it was because of my congeniality and not the fact that the guy they chose for the season was a complete dick.
“So that night I have to host the red carpet stuff for an awards show. And I’m talking with all these glittery people who also do TV work and it suddenly hits me, harder than it ever has before, that every single person I’m speaking to would never even bother to smile in my direction if they didn’t know who I was. If I was just a plain old guy, the kind of guy I was back in school before I signed on to the shows, they probably wouldn’t pay me a single bit of kindness. So I decided, right then, as I was talking to some Grey’s Anatomy actor, that I wanted to get out.”
He turns into the chip aisle then, and Luke follows close behind. “You decided you wanted to step away from television and your first idea was to fake your own death?”
Ashton laughs as he reaches for a couple tubes of Pringles. “It was more than that,” he starts as he tosses the tubes into the cart. “I wanted to escape celebrity all together, not just the world of television. A friend from back home that I would trust with my life had this cabin kinda out in the middle of nowhere in this forest and he only ever uses it for like, two weeks in the summer and said I could camp out there until I find a way to get back to Australia undetected to live at the house I bought over there a few years ago. My manager helped with all the media stories and such. And two months later, here we are.”
“That’s insane,” Luke shakes his head as he speaks, reaching for his own tube of Pringles as he realizes it's been quite awhile since he got his hand stuck in a Pringle tube so why not?
“The journey is a bit wild, I will agree, Luke, but the life I’m living right now is much more enjoyable than faking it every damn day.”
Luke shakes his head (and ignores the fluttery feeling he keeps getting when Ashton says his name). “No, I mean it’s insane that I am somehow the first person that’s caught you.”
Ashton’s brows perk up at the statement. “Oh yeah no, I’m also pretty surprised by that. Figured I would have had to pay off a lot of people by now to keep them quiet.”
They’ve both pushed their carts up toward the self check out how and start scanning away at their items. Luke looks up halfway through his cart and catches Calum giving him a look from a little ways away. He’s got a suggestive look on his face. But thankfully it's one that reads much more as “ohhh Luke is talking to a boy” rather than “ohhh there’s a celebrity in my store”. Plus Luke knows Calum wouldn’t be the type to go rushing to media people to out the presence of dead celebrities in his grocery store at 2am so he chooses to subtly flip him off before reaching for the next item in his basket.
They’re both about done scanning and bagging up their groceries when Luke starts to realize he really...doesn’t want this little bit of time he’s spent with Ashton to end yet. And given his lack of normal human interaction during daylight hours as of recently, he’s a bit out of practice on the whole asking someone to extend a conversation beyond the grocery store aisles. He drops his bags back into his cart to roll back out to his car and as he watches Ashton perform the same action the words just sort of leap from his mouth. “Hey do you, uh, have anywhere to be right now?”
Ashton gently places a bag containing some produce into his cart before turning to Luke, a teasing smirk resting on his lips. “Luke, it’s 2am and I’m presumed dead to everyone but about 4 people,” he catches that Luke still looks somewhat nervous (something he would later reflect on to tell him just how damn cute it was) and continues. “So I’ve got just about all the time in the world.”
“Want to come to mine for lunch? We could make something and watch a show or keep chatting or something?” he asks, tentatively.
He watches as Ashton’s face shifts a bit, obviously confused by some part of what Luke’s just said. “Why would you ask if I’m free now if you were wanting to make lunch plans?”
Luke realizes his request requires some explanation for people that live during normal human hours. “Oh, because I have lunch at about 3am. Because I work nights. So right now feels like,” he pauses a moment, trying to decide and calculate what time this would have been for him before taking his job. “It feels like about 11am-ish for me right now. So close to lunch time.”
They’re out in the parking lot now and Ashton just stops for a moment beside Luke in the middle of the lot and looks up at him for a moment, a smile spreading across his face, his dimples, ones that Luke had grown used to seeing on his TV screens over the last few years, increasingly deepen. “Lunch sounds nice.”
*
Ashton follows Luke back to his apartment (and to the brief stop he makes at Michael’s where he ignores the comments about the man parked in the car behind his) and they park in the garage, carrying their groceries in their arms up to his unit. They each deposit their cold and frozen items into Luke’s fridge and he pours them each a glass of water as Ashton takes a seat at his kitchen counter. Luke sips from his glass as he watches Ashton glance around his kitchen and living room.
“I try to keep it cozy,” Luke explains as he reaches into a cabinet for a couple pots and pans. He migrates over to his sink to fill a pot with water to boil. “Needed it when I first started the working at night thing and I needed to find a way to force myself to sleep when the sun was up. Gonna make some pasta and chicken thing, that cool?”
Ashton smiles warmly from his place at the counter. “Sounds lovely. You mind if I use that?” he points to the opposite corner of the space where a black Keurig machine sits. “I don’t often do this whole living like normal in the night thing.”
Luke laughs at the comment on being nocturnal. “Go for it.”
He turns back to the pan of chicken, chopping it up and moving it around some before turning to a different burner and tossing in a few things to make a garlic sauce. He can make maybe two things that qualify as meals rather than just large portioned snacks so he’s opted for one of those since he so rarely has company.
“What do you do then that’s got you up all through the night?” Ashton asks as he opens the cabinet above the coffee machine pulling down a bright yellow mug. The color suits him, Luke thinks. “You work in tech support or something?”
“Thankfully very far off from that,” Luke starts with a giggle. “I’m absolute garbage with computers. I work the nurses’ desk for the recovery wing at one of the children’s hospitals. It’s a lot of checking and distributing charts, ordering things for the nurses, talking to parents when they want more logistical updates on their child’s care there. Sometimes I get to help entertain the kids who get to go out and about. Yesterday I let them request songs to play for awhile and then we had show and tell.”
“God, you’re like something out of some cheesy movie, huh?”
Luke turns to see Ashton smiling up at him, his arms crossed at his chest as he leans against the counter to face him, the coffee machine whirring to life behind him. Luke bites at his cheek to avoid an entirely too large smile to spread across his face though he knows he can’t help the blush painting it’s way across his nose and cheeks. “It’s a good job. Even worth the whole graveyard shift situation.”
Ashton grimaces at the end of Luke’s reply. “Night shoots used to kick my ass. There is nothing in the world more terrifying than slightly drunk women in hot pink crying over some complete asshole rejecting them after a cocktail party at 2am.”
“Was there anything about it that you liked, though?” Luke asks after he turns down the heat to let the sauce simmer for a bit. He watches Ashton stir some milk into his mug that he retrieved from the fridge.
“Of course,” Ashton answers quickly, in a tone that projects honesty rather than just being used to answering the question. “I got to travel to places I would have never made it to otherwise, meet people that I considered heroes growing up, provide for myself and my family. And for a while that’s why I just dealt with the bull shit. But I started to realize I was working my ass off for all of that good stuff I was getting. That I didn’t have to deal with things in exchange for those things that were mine because of my work.”
Luke isn’t quite sure what to respond to that. Because he’s right, the logic is obvious and sound on all of it. As he’s trying to formulate a response though, Ashton cuts in again. “Though I guess maybe that’s a pretty privileged logic I-”
“No, don’t,” Luke cuts him off. “You shouldn’t justify the unfair parts of your job like that. You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your own values about the way people should be interacting with one another for the sake of drama for good TV ratings. You don’t owe anything to anyone who doesn’t actually give a shit about you as a person. I’ve known you for like two hours and it already just baffles me why someone wouldn’t want to know who you are behind the stage makeup and scripted lines.”
He watches as Ashton lifts the mug to his lips, pink cheeks peeking out from each side (he wonders if the change in color comes from the heat of the mug or the words he’s just said). He lowers the mug and his lips lift into a lazy smile. “See now I’m starting to wonder if I’m actually dead. Your kindness is angelic.”
Luke hasn’t a single clue how to respond to that so he gives the hazel-eyed man a small smile before returning to his saucepan. Ashton shifts the conversation then, asking Luke more about his job before telling him about the gardening he’s taken up since being stuck out in the middle of nowhere on his own. He shows Luke pictures of his herb garden and points out each one as he names it. As he starts putting food into bowls, Luke offhandedly mentions how he’s always wanted to grow lavender but tending to plants when you sleep through the sunshine makes gardening difficult. He drops a fork into a bowl and when he turns to hand it to Ashton, Luke watches as he hits the “Add to Cart” option on an Amazon page for lavender seeds. His heart does some kind of funny rhythm as butterflies burst in his chest. Their eyes meet as Ashton locks his phone and looks up to him.
“Pretend you didn’t see that, I want it to be a surprise,” Ashton whispers between the two of them, his right eye winking up at Luke as he accepts the bowl.
“So this is going to be happening again then?” Luke muses as he grabs his own bowl and walks toward the living room. Ashton follows behind him. “I should plan for future early morning lunches with a dead celebrity?”
“I know it comes with some amount of risk for both of us but,” Ashton looks down toward his feet, scratching at the back of his neck as he tries to come up with the right way to phrase things. Luke turns to face him as he hears the hesitation in his voice. “I really want to see you again. This has been nice. And not just because you’re the first person I’ve spoken to other than my mother in two months. I...want to know you, Luke.”
Luke smiles tiredly, feelings the earliness of the hour in a way that he hasn’t in quite some time. He watches as Ashton’s fingers fidget with a string hanging from the end of his sweatshirt, obviously nervous about what he’s just admitted to the man he’s only just really met, still. Luke reaches forward for his hand, tangling their fingers together as he squeezes his palm against Ashton’s. It feels nice to be close to someone like this. It’s something he didn’t realize he was missing out on while only really living in the night.
“I think you’re worth the risk, Ashton.”
He watches as Ashton looks down to their intertwined hands, Luke’s eyes following to the same place. His hands are pale from the lack of much sunlight other than what he gets at sunset when he goes out to take his walk after waking. Ashton’s is warm and tanned, likely from the sun he gets from days in his secret garden hideout. He barely knows this man, apart from the apparently highly curated version he’s seen on screen. He wants to know the Ashton that speaks like sunshine and loves love enough to lose his job over. He wants to know the steps he knows he’s skipping in his story right now that led to him faking his own death. So it’s no surprise that the next words have him smiling bright enough to light up the early morning they found each other in.
“I think we’re worth the risk, too.”
*
#lashton#lashton fic#i honestly have been staring at this for so long i can't even tell if i like it anymore#i had to end it in domestic fluff i am SORRY#i have no idea how to end fics otherwise#this is Such a funny au though#like there were def better ways to do it but it was fun#esp for never having given AU a shot before#wow we're rambling in the tags anyone surprised? anyone?#also almost made the title a line from when the day met the night by patd but decided against it#i picked this title on the 1d anniversary and i feel the need to honor My Men
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Five weeks out of prison, and Cellbit is buying his sick son cough medicine from the haunted convenience store down the block. It's late at night- too late at night, probably, so it's just him and the two employees and an old lady in an old fur coat...
"I said, put your fucking hands in the air!"
...and the guy in the giant moth fursuit robbing the store.
The girl behind the counter chews her gum and slowly, boredly, raises her hands. The other employee has his AirPods in and either can't hear the villain or doesn't care. The old woman is deaf. And Cellbit... well.
Cellbit picks up a bottle of NyQuil and adds it to his basket. The villain hasn't noticed him yet, so he doesn't have anything to worry about.
Tonight's villain is a low-rank street thug going by 'Moth Man'. He can fly, but only at night, and he sounds like he smokes eight packs of cigarettes a day.
Spiders, Cellbit hears as he sneaks to the next aisle over. It makes sense. Moths, spiders, they aren't exactly friends in the wild.
Of course, Cellbit considers as he picks up a box of tissues and silently slips it in next to the medicine, Moth Man could be scared of a different spider. The different spider.
He watches, mostly unconcerned, as Moth Man waves his Moth Gun in the clerk's face.
"Check it out, guys," he sleezes, leaning in close and shoving his phone right next to the gun's barrel. "She's totally freaked right now."
Moth Man is also a vlogger. More specifically: he's a TikTok streamer, and he's a pretty popular one, too. Honestly, Cellbit's surprised that the Federation hasn't shut his account down yet. (But, really, that would require them actually doing something fucking useful for once.)
Censors, Cellbit hears, and that one makes a bit more sense. He grabs a big bottle of hand sanitizer and adds it to the basket. Algorithm failure, face reveal, doxxing, spiderspiderspiderspiders.
"Absolutely terrified," the clerk unconvincingly says. "Do you want me to empty the register out, or what?"
Dogs, Cellbit hears from her. Needles, knives.
Moth Man's cheap plastic antennae flop embarrassingly as he nods, all fake enthusiasm. He looks down at his phone and thanks someone for the donation, another for a rose.
"No, it's real," he tells his chat. "See?"
He raises his gun to the ceiling, and he fires.
Cellbit jumps, nearly dropping his basket. He swears under his breath and kinda maybe hopes that Moth Man doesn't have super hearing, too, because he needs to get home. His son is sick, he doesn't have time for wannabe-villains in cheap costumes.
Horrible costumes.
Moth Man's felt wings flutter behind him as he lowers his gun and points it back at the shaken clerk.
"See?" he sneers. "Now give me the money."
Terrible costumes.
Honestly, villains these days are just kind of stupid. Where's the anonymity when everyone knows your shadow? How are you supposed to sneak around causing problems and slitting throats when you have giant neon green felt moth wings sticking three feet out of you? And those goggles had better be night vision, or poor Moth Man is going to walk face-first into a lamppost the second he leaves the store.
Cellbit shakes his head and goes to find the soup. Back in his day...
"I was!" the clerk shouts. "Here!"
She opens the register, and then two things happen in quick succession:
1. Cellbit picks up a can of chicken noodle soup. He's not a huge fan himself, but Forever swears by it, and Richarlyson's cold is bad enough that Cellbit's willing to try anything. (He's only had this kid for five weeks, but he thinks he'd kill for him, and that's saying something.)
2. A brilliant flash of red and blue crashes through the store's front display window with a whoop.
Spiders! Cellbit hears. He smiles despite himself, licks his lips just briefly before catching himself and biting his tongue back into his mouth.
Spider-Man's poses are maybe one of the more badass things about him. He lands on the counter in a classic pose, crouched with one hand flat on the counter and the other pointed directly at Moth Man's face. His forehead is pressed against the gun's end, and he's probably smiling under his mask, the freak.
"S-Spider-Man!" Moth Man squeaks. "What are you doing here?"
Spider-Man tilts his head. "Uuuuuh, kicking your ass?"
And then he punches the fucker right in the nose.
Moth Man skitters backwards, crashing into a rack of newspapers. His finger slips and he fires his gun right into the register, sending the clerk screaming onto the floor. Good, she doesn't need to be involved.
"What the fuck what the fuck-" Moth Man breathes.
He jumps to his feet and points his phone's camera at Spider-Man, who doesn't so much as give him enough time to start narrating before slinging a web and stealing the phone right out of his hand.
Silently, Cellbit slips his own phone out of his pocket and starts recording. Just for himself, really. He'll add it to the Google Doc later.
Spider-Man turns Moth Man's phone over in his hands thoughtfully.
"Dude, is this an iPhone?" he asks. "Since when do you have iPhone money?"
"Fuck you, I have money!"
He fires his gun again, this time on purpose. Spider-Man easily dodges the bullet, not even looking up from the phone's web-covered screen.
"With that costume?" Spider-Man snorts and shakes his head. "No way, man."
"My costume is awesome!" Moth Man snaps. "Fuck you! Die, Spider-Man!"
He's terrified, Cellbit can smell the fear coming off of him in waves. It's sour and black and foul and gut-turning, but it could be stronger. This guy might be dumb, but he's also too stupid to realize he's in a fight he can't win. It's embarrassing.
But, really, it's none of Cellbit's business. He's just gonna sneak out as soon as he-
A screeching Moth Man flies past him, his bare hand grazing Cellbit's nose, crashing into the back row of freezers. Cellbit flinches back a step, fumbling with his phone. He gets it level just as Spider-Man pounces on the villain from above with a happy little cheer.
Inexplicably, Moth Man screams and curls into himself, dropping his gun and cowering and muttering to himself.
Whoops.
Spider-Man stands above him mid-kick, confused.
"Dude," says Spider-Man, "what the hell is wrong with you? Come on, get up!"
Cellbit starts sneaking his way out, slipping away as Spider-Man tries getting Moth Man to get up and finish their battle properly.
None of his business, he tells himself. It's none of his business. He got his footage, it's none of his business. One step at a time, tonight is not the night for an interview. He has a sick son to take care of. Investigating can wait.
...He stops in the doorway to take one last video, this one of Spider-Man chasing the poor terrified Moth Man around the store practically begging for him to stop being weird, what kind of fight is this supposed to be?
Camera off, slip out onto the streets and start the trip back home.
Forever's gonna be pissed about the shoplifting, but at least it isn't murder anymore. Cellbit is trying to set a good example.
-
Based off of THIS AU
#a.d.'s fics i suppose#a.d.'s fics i suppose.#deli superhero au#this is really rough but i'm not editing it#i just wanted to write today so! here something is!
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hi! i love and appreciate your account, thank you for making it! i was wondering if you had any meet-cute fic recs? thank you!!
Awe, I love and appreciate you! Please be mindful of the tags in all the stories, and don’t forget to leave comments and kudos!slow nights
Peter’s on patrol early in the morning when he watches a cute boy smack face first into a road work sign. It just so happens that boy is the one Tony’s been gushing about for forever.
how novel is a novel that can fit into one sheet - whole thing is cute, only a couple are meet cute
A collection of short drabbles based on quotes from Incorrect Overwatch Quotations, but spun up to be Parkner.
Chapter 1: "I said, if you die I won't miss you."
Chapter 2: "If you ever eat my leftovers again, I will destroy you."
Chapter 3: "This date is so boring."
Chapter 4: "So you and Harley don't have any pet names, huh?"
Chapter 5: "And how do you take your coffee?" (Coffee Shop/Uni AU)
Chapter 6: "I just walked downstairs wearing a “say ‘hey’ if you’re gay” t-shirt and Iron Man boxers. We had 8 people over. They saw."
Chapter 7: "Did it hurt when you fell?"
Harley's Favorite Superhero
When Tony introduces his two s̶o̶n̶s̶ prodigies, he expects any number of things - a heated debate, a fist fight, hell an explosion. but what Tony did not expect, is this.
Even Shattered Glass Shines in Sunlight (nsfw)
They really shouldn’t, they were both really vulnerable right now, especially Peter, and they were on the side of the fucking road where anyone, probably other mourners, could pass by and see them. Except Harley really wanted it and so did Peter, if the hands slipping up his shirt were anything to go by.
Or
Harley and Peter meet at Tony’s funeral and are infatuated with each other.
Falling for You
Peter's nervous about meeting one of Tony's old friends. He wasn't expecting some hot seventeen-year-old kid to show up.
Run Away
Don't drive a car to a protest.
To Bring You Back to Me
Peter's been living with a ghost in his haunted apartment for far too long, and he needs to get him out of there.
Or, Peter does a bit of necromancy.
New Protocols
Peter Parker was nervous.
Like really really incredibly nervous. Like, upset stomach, pacing the room, haven’t eaten all day nervous.
And why, you may ask, was Peter so nervous that he would be genuinely concerned about bringing up his lunch had he been able to eat in the first place?
Well, it was because Mr. Stark was currently on his way back from the airport picking up Peter’s replacement.
-
Or the time Mr. Stark introduced Peter Parker to Harley Keener, Peter had an anxiety attack, and Harley was a huge flirt.
you come here often?
There’s a cute boy outside the deli.
Sorry I can't see you, I'm deaf
Peter Paker ran into Harley Keener in the hallway, his immediate reaction was to say,
“Sorry I couldn’t see you, I’m deaf.”
Where Did the Party Go?
The boy nodded his head as though he understood, and Peter couldn’t help but think that the alcohol must finally be starting to take effect. There wasn’t much light illuminating the front steps of the suburban house, besides a few stray streets lamps here and there, and some quickly passing car headlights that grazed the street every once and awhile. But despite all that, he could clearly see every detail of the boy sat next to him. Every freckle, every curl, and even the playful glint that rest in his eyes.
or, Peter is alone at a party and finds company in a cute, blonde stranger.
#parkner fic rec#harley keener#peter parker#harley keener x peter parker#harleypeter#spiderlad#keenker#meet-cute
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Lights Will Guide You Home (Ch. 1)
Story: AU in which Peter Parker, 16, is a homeless vigilante just trying to do his thing in Queens. Tony Stark is a rich superhero who flies onto the scene. Eventual IronDad will ensue.
A/N: Title from Coldplay’s “Fix You.” Sorry if this AU has been done like 10,000 times and if that song has been used like 15,000. Here’s another.
WARNINGS: Guns, gun violence, robbery, cussing, verbally abusive language
- - - - - - - - - -
It’s only midnight, but Peter’s already feeling the weight of exhaustion creeping into his bones. He stands on the Queens rooftop looking out over the city; the fading yellow streetlights give him a strange kind of warmth in his stomach, a stark contrast to the burn of hunger that usually lingers there. He sighs and leans his head against the post next to him; he pulls up his red ski mask above his nose and inhales deeply, allowing his eyes to slide closed, allowing his ears to absorb the familiar sounds of the city, unhindered as he just exists for a moment.
For a moment he feels like a normal person. Not a vigilante. Not a homeless teenager. Not a crime fighter. Not even a superhero, if he were to be so bold with such a title. For a moment he is just a human being, and that is all he could ask for after four straight nights packed full of activity. Nobody needs saving. Nobody’s chasing him down. Nobody’s crying, “Spider-Man! Help me!” For once Peter Parker can just exist, and for once that’s enough. It doesn’t feel like he has to earn his existence, like he owes the universe anything for allowing him to live when everything he loves has been stolen away from him.
But the moment doesn’t last. It never does.
Peter opens his eyes, blinking once before pulling his mask over his face. He crouches, carefully moving toward the edge of the building, and quiets his breathing as much as is possible, listening intently for what would follow the sound that he thinks is the tell-tale clicking of a lock-pick's handiwork.
There it is. The rattle of a doorknob, the shuffle of feet.
A break-in in his typical territory. These guys are getting bold.
Peter positions himself at the edge of the building, peering over but staying as inconspicuous as possible; they’re just a few buildings over in a store Peter has frequented. Had frequented with his Uncle Ben. Their last visit was a little over a year ago...before-
Peter snaps to attention when he hears the cash register shaking, the intruders trying to break it open with brute force. He can’t see them anymore from this building, so he tiptoes over the back edge and scales the back wall as quickly and quietly as he can. He comes around the left corner and listens, hearing nothing, and he comes out to the side, keeping to the shadows just in case. His tinted swim goggles, red ski mask and fingerless gloves, and blue sweatshirt and sweatpants aren’t exactly stealth material.
He can see the robbers more clearly now; one is carefully extracting something from what must be his back pocket, not paying attention to the other who has pulled a gun and is aiming at the cash register. A boom sounds through the open doorway, muted by the windows, and blinding emergency lights snap on. A screeching alarm blares throughout the shop and leaks out into the street.
“Are you shitting me?!” A rough voice cuts through the din. “We pick the lock and creep around with no detection, and you just had to-”
“I’m...I’m sorry, Man-...uh, maaan.” The second voice is deeper than the first but timid, and Peter can hear two pairs of lungs breathing: one deep and heavy, the other shallow and short. “I just-You were struggling with the drawer, so I thought-”
“To shoot the fucking thing? With your piece of shit gun? Are you serious? You don’t have a silencer!” The owner of the first voice opens what Peter now sees is a tan bag and begins to shovel in money from the register.
“Wh-what are you doing?! Shouldn’t we go?”
“We might as well get what we can and scram. The cops’ll take a few minutes anyway.”
“I was-Are you sure you could’ve gotten it open?”
“If can pick a fucking door lock, I sure as hell can pick a damn cash register lock!”
“I just-I didn’t think-”
“You’re right, you didn’t think!”
“Well, I mean it didn’t seem like his security was that good.”
“This is at least a semi-successful sandwich shop, idiot. Of course he has decent security, especially when you go around shooting shit. Why the hell do you think I’ve been staking the place out for months?”
“I’m-”
“Don’t say you’re sorry. Don’t you fucking dare.” The leader has finished stuffing his burlap sack, and he throws it at the obvious younger of the pair. “I swear to god, if we get caught-”
“What? You’ll pee your pants?” Peter winced. Come on, Parker, are you five?
“S-Spider-”
“Ah, yes, the Spider-Man.” The leader steps toward Peter with carefully measured steps, eyes gleaming beneath his own black ski mask. “The local superhero, here to save the-” He suddenly tries to bolt out the door, but Peter’s enhanced reflexes are too quick, and he easily stops him with a firm arm to the stomach.
“You’re not goin’ anywhere. You didn’t even finish your-”
“Stop!” The younger voice is quivering, and Peter turns toward it, absorbing the gun barrel pointed in his direction. “Just-uh, just stand down, Spider-Man. Let us go, and you get to live!”
“My god, you idiot; you don’t announce you’re gonna shoot a guy! You just do it!”
“But that’s unsporting-”
“This isn’t a sport, asscrack! This is life or death, here! Shoot him!”
Peter’s hands are spread, palms facing each of the individuals in turn as he breathes, trying to sort out the best scenario for this situation. The one who has to be a teenager is too far for him to disarm without risking getting shot, and he can’t let the man on the floor get away either-
“Hands where I can see them.”
Peter glances down, and his blood runs cold. The leader has taken advantage of Peter’s predicament and drawn his own weapon, aiming at Peter’s head with a wicked gleam in his eye.
“You’re surrounded, Spider-Man. No hope of escape.” The man on the floor lets out a rough chuckle just the first pitches of police sirens peel through the air outside.
“Shit. You really kept us going this long, didn’t you? What a sneaky trick, but now-”
“Freeze!-” A plainclosthesman is in the doorway, his gun drawn. “Drop your weapons-”
“NO, YOU DROP YOUR WEAPON, OR SPIDER-MAN GETS IT!” The leader screams from his spot on the floor, shaking his gun in Peter’s direction. “WHERE WILL YOU PIGS BE WITHOUT YOUR SUPER-POWERED DOG TO DO YOUR WORK FOR YOU?”
“PUT IT DOWN, YOU PIECE OF SHIT-”
The cop and the robber go back and forth, spewing insults and threats as the sirens grow louder, but Peter tunes them out, facing the one chance he has left.
“Hey, dude. You don’t want to do this.” Peter inches forward, but freezes when the kid tightens his hold on the gun. “Please. I....I know what it’s like to struggle, okay? I’ve been there.”
“You have no idea what my life is like. Don’t try to relate to me.” The kid grinds out, his jaw quaking to match his shimmering eyes.
“Okay, you’re right. I don’t know your life. But I know mine.” Peter takes a steadying breath. “I know what it’s like to to be homeless. To pack up with whoever you can to up your chances of survival.” Peter nods his head toward the ground. “I use tape to hold my shoes together.” Peter gestures down to his bare feet. “Well, when I’m wearing shoes. Glad you found something thick that you could sew into it. That’s impressive. Did you know how to sew, or did they teach you?”
“Quit chatting!” The leader interrupts from the floor, eyeing the cop with the gun trained on him. “This isn’t a social gathering! Fly, stupid butterfly!”
The kid suddenly spins on his heel and takes off toward the other side of the store, vaulting over the counter and disappearing into the rooms behind. Peter shakes his head and sighs, turning back to the man sprawled on the floor.
“What are you laughing at, shithead? We got what we came for.”
“He’s gonna have a hard time navigating back there; Delmar keeps this place fully stocked, so much that it’s like a maze to get through to the back alley.”
“I know that, you idiot; I drew him a map of the place and made him memorize it.”
“A map? But how-”
Another boom sounds, and the masked man drops his gun, screaming in agony as blood pools around and out of the bullet now lodged in his upper arm.
Peter finally registers that a police vehicle has arrived. The driver enters first, shoving past the plainclothes cop toward the attempted thief. The cop yanks the ski mask off of the man’s head, and Peter holds back a gasp.
He, too, had been watching Delmar’s for a while now, and he really shouldn’t have been surprised to see that it was a recent hire under the mask. Likely in his 40s, the red-headed man is familiar to Peter; Delmar rarely took in people outside of his family, but the man has a soft spot for people who are down on their luck. He must have spun some kind of sob story to get Delmar to take him in.
“Huh, well I’ll be damned.” The plainclothesman speaks up first. “Manny the deli guy.”
The cop pulls the man to his feet and pushes him against the counter to book him, shaking his head as Manny continues to yell and the plainclothesman shakes his head. “Makes a damn good sandwich, too, Sucks ass for Delmar to lose this guy.”
The cops each take an arm and escort Manny to the cop car, somehow chatting casually amidst the animalistic howls emitting from their charge.
“What about the kid? Did Lenox find him?”
“Nah. Back door’s open, so the kid’s probably long gone with the money.”
“Shit. Hate to have to break it to Delmar.”
“We got it from here, Spider-Man.” An officer Peter hadn’t noticed before, a woman with blonde hair and soft brown eyes was taping off the outside of the shop. “Thanks for your help, as always.”
“Oh, no-” Peter clears his throat. “No problem, ma’am. Happy to do my duty.”
She nods and sets about her work.
It takes everything Peter has not to jerk toward the shuffling his ears pick up from the back of the store. “Uh-Delmar has a, uh, a cat, so I better make sure he’s okay.”
“Oh, sure.” The lady cop gestures over her shoulder. “Make it quick, though. The other guys have to come in here soon to check the place over.”
“Right, yeah, of course, thanks!”
Peter hurdles himself over the counter and slips into the back rooms, ears peeled for the scuffle of plastic soles on linoleum. What he hears, instead, is heavy breathing, and he follows the sound to the walk-in refrigerator. Clenching his jaw, Peter carefully opens the door-
“Shit.” The kid is huddled on the ground, arms clinging to the bag desperately with his eyes closed, as if he’s bracing to be shot, too.
Peter puts his hands up in a show of peace. “Don’t shoot and neither will I.”
“You don’t have a gun.”
“It looks like you don’t either.”
The kid scoffs. “Dropped it when I was trying to get through this damn labyrinth of a backroom.”
Peter looks around quickly, and then slips through the opening and into the freezer, pulling it shut behind him and leaving them in darkness. “Look, the cops are still here scoping out the place. They saw the back door, so they think you’re long gone. They’re about to actually search the place, so you might want to get outta here like yesterday.”
“What the fuck? Why’re you helping me? Aren’t you like the police’s dog or something?”
It’s Peter’s turn to scoff. “No. I work by myself and for myself; they just kind of come with the territory.”
“Still. Why help me?”
“....I know you can hear my voice as much as I can hear yours.” Peter’s tone is soft, imploring. “I was in a spot like you for a little while, but it wasn’t worth it. I got out, and so can you.”
“...How’d you leave?”
“A raid I was thankfully absent for. No one turned me over, amazingly.”
“Pack loyalty.”
“Probably. Probably hoped I’d revive the group, too.”
“Yeah. Anyway, this is a nice pow-wow and all,” Peter can hear the other boy shifting. “But I gotta bounce.” The kid stands and carefully opens the freezer door.
“They’re all out front.” Peter quickly reassures him. He stares for a second then smiles when he takes in the face of his hiding place buddy. “Hiding in plain sight?”
“Exactly. Ski mask makes you stick out. Especially if you’re a black kid when there’s cops around.”
Peter nods. “Sorry I can’t return the favor.”
“It’s cool. Vigilante status and all that.” The kid pauses. “Here.” He reaches into the bag and hands Peter a handful of bills, 20s from what Peter can see.
Peter stares for a moment, and the kid shakes it toward him.
“Street kids gotta look out for each other, you feel? This was a small bust, anyway. A practice.”
Peter’s heart sinks at the implication but eyes the money, the empty pits of his stomach crying out from weeks of going with tiny portions compared to what he needs to eat.
“I can’t. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Spend it all here, and it evens out, right?” The kid quirks a smile. “Don’t over think it.” He shoves the stack into Peter’s lap before looking around one last time and stepping outside of the chilly room. “Take care of yourself, Spider-Man. I’ll see you around.” And he’s gone.
Peter sits for a moment with the money in his lap, his mind spinning as he wrestles with the ethical implications of his actions. He needs to eat. He’s running himself ragged being Spider-Man with so little food to squelch his metabolism. He used to shelter hop, staying at one place for a bit before switching to another for a decent flow of food, but after a while, he became a familiar, lonely face. They asked too many questions about him, his parents, and why his parents couldn’t ever come with him to stay. This would be his first real meal in weeks. The kid gave him the money, and if he doesn’t eat he can’t be Spider-Man...
Peter sighs, swallowing the guilt knotted in his throat before quickly organizing the bills and sliding them into his sweater for safe keeping.
He goes back through the front of the shop, waving to the cops out front before disappearing as is his M-O.
Peter decides to turn in early that night, thoroughly wiped now, so he carefully creeps up the side of a too familiar brick building. He finally makes it to the uppermost fire escape and pulls down the dufflebag he has stuffed there, removing the chemically produced webs he uses to hide his belongings where no one else can go.
He really needs to sneak back into the school again soon; his supply is running low. He lives in anticipation of summer when he might be able to get away with making and taking more of the webs to use for fighting and not just storage and survival purposes. He has often daydreamed of what it would be like to use the webs to swing around town, hang upside down, or even make a giant web like real spiders. They would definitely up his superhero status.
Sighing at such fantasies, Peter throws the duffel over his shoulder and hauls himself up to the top of the apartment complex.
“Home sweet home.” Peter mutters under his breath as he crosses the roof for the final jump onto the top of what once was a garden shed. The tenants gave up on a roof garden years ago, so the shed usually sits empty save for cobwebs and gardening equipment long forgotten, a perfect storage place for the items Peter doesn’t want to expose to the rain. The roof of the shed is set at such a small angle that it is nearly flat and therefore not conducive to ridding itself of rainwater, but Peter loves to sleep under the stars, the honks and hums of the city akin to a lullaby, and he has managed to patch critical spots with some moldy tarps, some nails, and a hammer left in the shed.
Now Peter sets his bag on the wearing shingles and stretches his back, his arms, his shoulders before pulling a warn fleece blanket out of his bag. He spreads the blanket and lays down, pulling off his mask and goggles which he stashes away before conceding to sleep in his Spider-Man costume just once. He’s too tired to change tonight, he decides as he allows himself to drift.
His heart stalls when he hears a low rumbling above his head, and his eyes snap open, searching the sky intently for something he knows he’ll never see. Every once in a while he’ll hear it. It’s never a stormy night, no clouds in the sky, no distant roar of thunder, no smell in the air, but he’ll hear a sound, a low rumbling akin to thunder but not quite the right timbre. Peter has never figured out what it is, but once he swore he saw a dark square floating in the sky on its own, like a ghostly apparition in the shape of a metal panel.
No such sight appears tonight, but as Peter stares at the sky, his own words drift back to him: hiding in plain sight. Definitely a government conspiracy Ned would believe.
Peter sighs and rolls his eyes before turning onto his side and curling into himself, now fully allowing himself to fall into a well-earned sleep.
- - - - - - - - - -
Tony Stark sits perched in the cockpit of his plane, gazing down at the city below him with little attachment or interest.
“You really didn’t have to come with us, Tony.” Happy Hogan speaks up from his seat beside Tony. “I could’ve handled the shipment on my own.”
“Yeah, no thanks.” Tony quips with a scowl, absently fiddling with the Iron Man gauntlet engaged over his right hand. “I spent way too long customizing these arc reactors to have the recipients bitching and calling me as soon as they don’t know how to use them. Might as well go and write everything off as a business expense.”
“Right, of course.” Happy rolls his eyes and turns his attention back in front of them. “I gotta say, though. I don’t think this plane needs any security from Iron Man himself.”
Tony throws him a look.
“The reflective plates are genius in their simplicity, Tony; no one even knows we’re up here.”
“Of course not, but I know about the plate incident from last year, Hogan.”
“Okay, we flew a little bit too low and bumped one of the panels on the new World Trade Center.”
“Hence why all of my planes are self-flying now.”
It’s Happy’s turn to dish out looks. “No one saw us or reported it. No harm; no foul.”
“Yeah because you left 5 hours late and no one was out to see you flying at 2am.”
“Hey, that delay was your-”
“Is that a kid?”
“What? Come on, Tony, I know you hate to have your past blunders brought up, but-”
“No, look, down there.” Tony points through the window and down toward a building Happy cannot distinguish.
“Tony, how can you even tell?”
Tony taps on his glasses frames. “Elementary zoom function, My Dear Happy. But, yeah, there’s definitely a kid sleeping on a roof down there.”
“Probably just had a fight with his parents or something.”
“He has a bag next to him.”
Happy scoffed. “Obviously threatened to run away from home and only made it to the roof. I remember someone else pulled shit like that when he was a kid.”
“You have no proof.”
“Rhodey told me.”
“Rhodey wasn’t there. We didn’t meet until college.”
Happy just rolls his eyes again and settles back into his seat. “See anything else with those glasses.”
“Just a bunch of cop sirens.”
“I’m gonna take a nap. Wake me if something interesting happens.”
“Gee, thanks, Forehead of Security. I feel so safe with you around.”
Happy just snorts, crosses his arms, and closes his eyes.
Tony rests an elbow on the window sill and puts his chin on his palm, languidly watching New York pass below, the lonely little figure soon left behind and forgotten for the moment.
#spidermanfic#spidermanfanfic#iromanfic#ironmanfanfic#spiderman#ironman#mine#mcufics#irondadfic#spiderbabyfic#mcufic
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Leave Me Weak
Clues
If you want to find me just look to the sky. I mainly write for Bucky but I’ve struck gold in other characters.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (AU)
Word Count: 5045
Warnings: fluff, descriptions of blood donation (needles/blood)
Summary: Donating blood was the last thing you wanted to do but you find that something else leaves you weak.
You knew this was a mistake.
Pushing your way onto the street in the pitch black night you pass through a small crowd outside the nightclub, with clouds of smoke drying out your already tired eyes.
Even though you lived in “the city that never sleeps” it wasn’t a rule you followed. You were accustomed to a very strict sleeping schedule for work that would normally have you waking up at this time but Nakia’s bachelorette party was not something you could miss, even if you knew you’d be paying for it later.
Sometimes you missed weekends like this, where you could stay out until the sun rose in the sky, sobering up with greasy fries smothered in cheese and steaming cups of freshly brewed coffee.
Mmmm coffee. You need to have some as soon as possible, especially if you’re expected to be up for the next few hours preparing the baked goods for the crowds that filtered into the Excelsior Bakery.
You had been working there for a while before the owner Mr. Lee had asked if you were interested in taking over the business. Your passion for baking was evident and he was happy to sell to someone he trusted.
The transition from worker to owner was scary but you were lucky to have Stan stay on to help. To ensure your success he continued to come in weekly and hand paint his famous sugar cookies.
They were Excelsior’s signature hit, square shaped cookies covered in royal icing with Stan’s original characters intricately portrayed on them. You marveled at the detail he put into each cookie and loved hearing about the characters; each a superhero he made up for his children’s bedtime stories.
You rubbed the chill of the night from your bare arms as an Uber took you to work. Unlocking the side door you flipped the light on in the large kitchen. It was quiet for now though soon the additional baking staff would join you.
Entering your office you quickly swapped your champagne sequined tank top for a comfortable cotton Excelsior Bakery t-shirt and let your aching feet rest in a pair of casual slip-ons as you put your heels aside. Your dark jeans were normal enough to wear to work though after a long night of drinking and dancing you wished you had a pair of leggings instead.
As you were preparing the coffee you heard the side door open as the loud voices carried throughout the back of the bakery. In walked Scott, Clint and Vis, who were way too upbeat for this hour as they greeted you, hanging their coats on the wall.
“Mornin’ guys,” you replied, looking over your shoulder as you anxiously waited for the pot to finish brewing.
When the coffee was finished you couldn’t help but take the first large cup for yourself; your slightly buzzed and very exhausted body needed the caffeine immediately.
Leaning against the table you lifted the mug to your mouth and instantly the three men were stricken with laughter. After swallowing the delicious brew you quirked your head at the group, wondering what caused the sudden giggle outburst.
As you brought the cup down from your lips your fingers brushed against the culprit making your eyes widen in horror. Christine, a colleague of Nakia’s, had insisted everyone wear tacky penis necklaces, one you just realized you had forgotten to take off.
Vis’ grin peaked through the hands that covered his eyes, while Scott was keeled over laughing hysterically.
Clint wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as he proclaimed, “I’ll never let you live this one down, boss.”
Slamming the mug on the counter you quickly took the necklace off and shoved it in your pocket, opting to throw it out at home because you were wary of what these pranksters would do with it here.
Once they calmed down and Scott no longer resembled a tomato you all began preparing the fresh goods for the day. Soon all different types of breads and rolls were rising the oven, as you finished making crumb cake, turnovers and other pastries, yawning as you set them to bake.
Your baking was done but unfortunately you couldn’t rest yet, inventory still needed to be done along with some bookkeeping. A third cup of coffee sounded tempting but you needed to eat and while you loved all the delicious sweets you made you knew you wanted something more substantial.
The air was still chilly in the early morning so you asked to borrow Scott’s hoodie as you walked to the corner of the next block. You frequented this deli out of convenience, even though your rolls were a million times better. By the time you got back to Excelsior you had to set the sandwich aside to deal with a delivery.
The hazard lights were blinking on the large box truck as you held the door open for M’Baku, the even larger delivery driver, who kindly carried in your order of flour.
“Hey man,” Clint affectionately greeted him as he slipped outside with Scott following behind as their work was finished.
“Scott, wait!” He turned around just as he got to the sidewalk. “Your hoodie,” you shouted, gesturing to yourself still wearing it.
“Leave it in the lounge, I’ll pick it up tomorrow,” he yelled, sending back a smile.
Back inside Vis worked on baking cakes as you settled in your office. Scott’s hoodie hung over the back of the chair you sunk into as you unwrapped your sandwich. A knock at your door alerted your attention to Darcy, a long time employee you recently promoted to assistant manager. She informed you the latest hire Miles, had just arrived for his first day.
Leaving the sandwich again you greeted Miles, assuring that he was in good hands with Darcy and his other shift employee Kamala.
Miles’ father worked in the same precinct as your friend Wanda’s brother, becoming hooked on Excelsior from the moment Pietro brought in a box of pastries. Officer Davis stopped in for coffee and snacks quite often after that and when he saw the help wanted sign he told Miles to apply for the job.
Miles had a few questions and though Darcy was just as capable to answer them you did so yourself, showing him the same kindness Stan showed you when you began.
You returned to the sandwich and took an unsatisfying bite of cold eggs and cheese on a roll. Oh well. It sat mainly to the side as you went over some paperwork, stifling a yawn as your tired eyes drowned in the sea of words. You felt your head nodding forward in slow motion, and there was nothing you could do to prevent it. Your shoulders slumped down as you fell into a slightly uncomfortable but much needed rest.
The loud vibrations of your phone buzzing on the desk startled you awake and for a moment your sleep deprived mind needed to gather its bearings before realizing you were at work and not in your comfortable bed, the place you were desperately craving.
Yawning again you rubbed your eyes, acutely aware you might be smudging last night’s makeup all over your face. The phone buzzed once more as a reminder, and you picked it up finding a text from Wanda.
No.
Not today.
Any day but today.
You read over Wanda’s text reminding you about the blood drive over at the fire station this morning. You promised her you’d donate, knowing how important it was to her after Pietro had been shot on the job and blood transfusions helped save his life.
You wanted to go, you promised you would go, but you really didn’t want to go today. You were more than exhausted and needed rest, but realistically if you went home for a nap you would definitely sleep through your alarm. Donate blood, then sleep. That was the plan.
Vis began working on a large cake order for Stark Industries and asked your assistance in helping him gather the ingredients.
He entered the large walk in refrigerator to grab eggs and milk while you assembled the rest of what he needed on the large butcher block counters. You eyed the heavy bag of flour, ambitiously thinking you could lift it on limited sleep and drained energy.
Bending your knees you gripped the bag that seemed to fight against you, causing you to tug with more force, bringing only the half ripped top of the bag up with you as you stood. Clouds of white smoke surrounded you, with puffs of flour floating off of the fabric of your shirt with every move you made.
“This is not your day,” Vis commented from a distance.
Your unamused face turned towards him, saying nothing as you sighed and then began to cough as you choked on flour that you inhaled.
You cleaned yourself up as best as you could in the bathroom. Your dark jeans had a white-washed fade to them and your t-shirt was now rinsing in the sink. No amount of wet paper towel would have been enough to clean the shirt whose fibers engulfed the flour like it was their last meal.
Opening the bathroom door a crack you called out for Darcy, who eyed your mostly bare skin through the door with curious concern.
“Couldja get my top from the office? It should be in the bottom drawer with my heels?”
Darcy returned, admiring the sparkly top as she held it up before handing it to you.
Once you were certain your hair, face and the rest of your body was free from flour you exited the bathroom, letting Vis and Darcy know you were leaving.
“Bedtime?” Darcy asked, following you to your office.
“I wish,” you sighed, grabbing your phone. “I promised my friend Wanda I’d donate blood at the firehouse so I have to head there first.”
Darcy’s head shook with laughter as she pointed at your ensemble. “And you’re going there dressed like that?”
You grimaced as you thought about it; a sequined tank top was a bit extra for a blood drive. “Hmmm, you’re right. I think I’ll keep borrowing Scott’s hoodie until tomorrow,” you said, slipping your arms into the large sleeves and zipping it up all the way.
***
The strong morning sun blinded your eyes through the gaps of the skyscrapers as you walked to the fire station. It was going to be warm today, you could already feel yourself sweating in Scott’s hoodie. Grabbing your phone you texted Wanda letting her know you were on your way.
Ambulances were parked on the block leading up to the fire station though red balloons caught your attention; they were tied to a large plastic sign on the sidewalk promoting the blood drive. You checked your phone finding Wanda hadn’t texted back yet but you went inside anyway hoping by some chance she was already there.
Surprisingly a small crowd had built up despite the early morning hour. The room was packed with broad figured firefighters and paramedics lining the walls and medical students tending to people already in the process of donating. Volunteers were everywhere, serving juice and cookies at a table in the back and handling the registration process for the line you were in.
Wanda was not in sight so you texted her again warning that you’ll be donating soon and would need her by your side. You weren’t afraid of the needle going in but the idea of it sitting under your skin irked you and you needed her as a distraction.
After handing in your paperwork you were nervously bouncing your leg as you sat down and waited, checking your phone for the millionth disappointing time to see there was no response.
Upon hearing your name called you looked up and were greet by a very young looking kid. He introduced himself as Peter and though he looked seventeen his ID badge proved he was in fact a med student at Metro-General Hospital.
Your stomach twisted with nerves as you sat back on a cot, comfortably crossing your legs as you watched Peter slip his hands into latex gloves and slowly collect the items he needed to draw blood. He whispered to himself, methodically going through the steps of what he should be doing.
His meticulousness should have been comforting as he checked over his tools, allowing more time for Wanda to show up. Your nerves began to bubble over more as you worried if something happened to her.
The packaged needle crinkled in Peter’s hands but he was quickly stopped by a leggy brunette in a long white lab coat.
“Mr. Parker, did you check her blood pressure first?” the woman sternly asked, knowing her answer as she had been observing him and the other students from the center of the floor.
Peter cleared his throat nervously, “Oh, uh, no Ms. Hill. I’ll do that now.” He let out an uncomfortable chuckle and she nodded in return.
With the blood pressure cuff in his hand Peter wrapped it around your sleeve and began to pump the bulb. The cuff tightened around your arm and Peter was focused on reading the dial but Ms. Hill calling his name out interrupted the process.
“Mr. Parker, can you tell me what’s incorrect?”
Peter checked that he placed the cuff in the proper spot, his eyes running along your frame until he noticed his error.
“Oh, um, miss, could you uncross your legs?” he asked, throwing a hint of a smile towards Ms. Hill who turned away.
You felt bad for Peter as he resumed taking your blood pressure. You couldn’t imagine how stressful his job could be. Being covered in flour was annoying but the thought of blood and other body fluids getting all over you made you feel sick.
When it was time to finally take your blood Peter asked for your arm, giving him your left one after rolling up the sleeves. You squeezed a ball a few times before he tied off the top of your arm with a painful elastic that squeezed your skin.
“There’s g-going to be a little pinch, okay?” Peter said to gently warn you, though hearing the shakiness of his own voice did nothing to calm your nerves.
You turned your head away as Peter began, tightening your core at the intrusion of the needle that felt worse than a little pinch and tried to breathe through the mildly uncomfortable pain. The sharpness beneath your skin continued and though you didn’t look it felt like Peter was stabbing you internally as he searched for a vein.
Picturing the needle inside your arm did nothing to calm your nerves so you searched for something else to focus on since Wanda was not there. A loud burst of laughter caught your attention and you looked over to see a group huddled together.
There were two men in FDNY shirts that threatened to split at the seams across their massive muscles. They had similar looks with blond hair and beards though they were distinctly different. The shorter of the two by a few inches, had longer blond hair with a full dark beard, while the other’s facial hair was fairer though his cropped hair had a darker tinge to it.
Your face squeezed tightly in pain as Peter apologized, claiming he was having trouble with your veins.
“It’s okay,” you lied, focusing your attention back to the group.
Hunk 1 and Hunk 2 were talking to two other equally large and handsome men wearing shirts with an emergency services logo on the back. The loudest of the group was a dark man with the brightest smile you’d ever seen. His laughter was contagious as he tipped his head back, palming the shoulder of the long haired man next to him he looked to be teasing.
Hissing in pain at the sharpness you felt you couldn’t help but look at your arm, seeing the silver needle prodding your skin. You weren’t a medical professional by any means, in fact the only brush with saving lives you’ve had is when Scott once choked on a Tic-Tac and you gave him the Heimlich maneuver, but you could tell something was wrong.
“Umm, Peter,” you meekly spoke, “That doesn’t feel right.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m going to try the other arm, okay? I think it’s the vein,” he said, convincing himself.
He undid the elastic and you could see the difference in skin tone from where it had been cut off by the band. Withdrawing the needle from your skin, he placed a cotton ball there, applying pressure for a few minutes before he asked you to take over.
Peter grabbed a bright blue roll of a self-adherent wrap that he applied around your arm. The uncomfortable way it clung to your skin added to your ever-building nerves. Sweat pooled on the back of your neck though you found relief rolling up the other sleeve, feeling the cool air comfort you skin before the elastic wrapped around your arm again. You squeezed the ball tightly, venting all your frustrations out through every pump of your hand.
Peter opened a new needle and you caught his gaze before he began. He looked confident and so you inhaled deeply, in search once more of the hunks to distract you. They had moved closer to the refreshment table and catching your eye was the man from before, whose long chestnut hair fell in front of his face as he leaned down to grab a cup of orange juice.
When he stood up you were mesmerized by full pink lips and the brightest blue eyes you had ever seen. He was drop dead gorgeous but judging by the way he held himself it didn’t seem like he would believe you if you told him. He was the most reserved out of the group, sporting a shy smile every time Hunk 3 said something and pointed to him.
“Ow!”
You didn’t mean to shout so loud, drawing attention is the last thing you wanted. You couldn’t even bear to glance at the huddle of hunks, instead focusing on Peter who was apologizing profusely.
Reluctantly he called over Ms. Hill and she had another med student named MJ come over to have Peter observe her. She inserted the needle into your vein with ease and silently judged Peter through her side glance before leaving.
By the time you officially began donating blood you received a text from Wanda, apologizing after she was stuck on FaceTime with her mom in Sokovia for longer than she expected.
You were thankful she was alright, texting her back about your bad experience so far. You told her not to bother coming since you would be finished soon, passing the time on your phone or occasionally sneaking glances at Hunk 4; he had caught your eye the most.
It felt like you were laying there for hours as your blood flowed like sludge in a pipe. People that were seated after you were now long gone. Shifting slightly against the cot made the needle twinge inside your arm and you really couldn’t wait until this was over with. Scott’s hoodie felt like your own personal sauna and you wanted so desperately to get out of it and into pajamas.
Peter kept checking on your progress and finally when you filled the container he, with Ms. Hill shrewdly watching over his shoulder, removed the needle from your vein and placed another blue wrap around your skin.
After thanking Peter you began to walk towards the refreshment table that suddenly seemed so far away as a wave of lightheadedness washed over you. If you could just get to the juice and cookies you would be fine. You had already been here for so long you wanted to get out.
Though you were burning up your skin was clammy, and sweat beaded on your forehead but you were determined to get to the table. It was a slow trudge, like shuffling your legs through thick mud. You’re almost there. Your vision is spotty and starting to fade but if you push a little harder you could make it.
Your ears fail you as they begin to clog. A soft voice coming from the indiscernible figure beside you asks a question. It’s muffled, as if you’re underwater but you’re able to figure out what they said.
“I’m fine,” you insisted not wanting to make a scene.
The table is barely visible but you’re right there, reaching out for the cup of juice you presume is in front of you. Your hands never made it though, as your body began its descent to the ground.
***
Bright fluorescent lights were shining behind the shadowy outline that hunched over you.
“There she is,” a man said.
You blinked a few times as your vision came back fully, noticing you were lying on a cot that had been tilted so your head was down and your legs were elevated. You asked what happened as your eyes began to focus on the curtain of hair that hung in front of the figure above you. He tucked the strands behind his ears to reveal familiar blue eyes.
Oh no. Hunk 4.
“You passed out,” Hunk 4 said, “All the color was drainin’ from your face. You almost fell but I caught you in time.”
You covered your eyes with your hands out of embarrassment, hoping this was a dream. Please wake up Y/N. When you heard the hunk’s soft chuckle you knew this was unfortunately real.
“My name’s Bucky and I’m a paramedic. Is it okay if I check your vitals?”
He asked for your name and smiled when you said it. Bucky gave off a comforting vibe and even though you were incredibly embarrassed from passing out he didn’t make a big deal about it.
Beside him was a small equipment bag, those beautiful eyes made contact with your own as he dug around for a stethoscope. His lips pulled into a tender smile as he asked you to unzip your hoodie.
Inhaling deeply you looked away, too embarrassed to face him again as you exposed the sequined top that was not appropriate for a morning blood donation.
“That’s pretty,” Bucky commented, placing the end of the stethoscope above your heart. “Doesn’t match your blue bandages though.”
The laughter that floated from your lips instantly became Bucky’s favorite sound. He was drawn to the way your smile warmed your face and noticed how beautiful you were as your eyes crinkled in delight. Listening to your steady heartbeat, he was thankful you couldn’t hear the way his own had definitely skipped in rhythm.
Warmth spread throughout your body as his soft fingers pressed against your inner wrist to check your pulse. Bucky’s wide smile and twinkling eyes definitely made your heart beat faster and you hoped he couldn’t tell.
Your eyes followed the lines of his smooth skin, up his arm towards the prominent vein that spread across his bulging biceps. You regret passing out, for obvious reasons, but mainly because you missed out on what it was like to be held in those strong arms.
Bucky asked you something though you didn’t pay attention as it finally struck you, he has been staring at you at the most unflattering angle possible ever since you woke up.
“Uhh, Bucky, can I sit up now?” you practically begged.
He asked how you were feeling and no matter the truth you would have told him you were doing much better. He adjusted the cot to a sitting position and turned around, calling out a name. Suddenly Hunk 3, otherwise known as Sam, was walking towards you with a cup of juice.
“Oooh!” Sam exclaimed, taking notice of your top. “How’re you feelin’ Sparkles?” He joked a little too loudly for your liking.
“’M good, thanks,” you said, taking the cup from his hand.
Hunks 1 and 2 came over as well to check up on you and though you appreciated their concern the attention made you want to crawl into Scott’s hoodie like a turtle and never come out again. Bucky sensed your discomfort and kindly asked Sam and the other hunks to give you some space.
“Thanks. I hate making a scene,” you said, offering an appreciative smile in between sips of orange juice.
“That’s the wrong shirt to wear at a firehouse then,” he chuckled, though he was intrigued as to your choice of outfit.
Bucky’s unasked questions were answered as you explained the bachelorette party, going into details about heading straight to work, hardly eating and then leaving after the flour explosion.
“Oh, so that’s what’s on your ear!”
“What?!” you panicked, rubbing your ears with your fingers.
Bucky’s eyes crinkled tightly as laughter bubbled up from the pit of his stomach, erupting from his mouth. “I’m just kidding Y/N!”
“Don’t scare me like that!” you feigned anger through a relieved smile, “I might pass out again!” you joked.
“Yeah you just might. Why did you think it was a good idea to donate blood after a night of drinking, no sleep and not eating?”
Bucky’s question wasn’t accusatory, in fact the expression in his eyes showed just how much concern he felt for you. You began to explain Wanda and her brother, and the promise you forgot you made to donate blood today.
“That’s real sweet of ya,” he said, with the hint of a Brooklyn accent coming through. “I work the night shift a lot too so I know how easy it is to forget these things, ‘specially when you’re tired.”
“Tell me about it, I’m exhausted,” you said, covering your mouth as talking about sleep brought out a large yawn.
“I bet you are, but uh… well here’s the thing,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Since you really didn’t eat anything today what do you say you let me take you out for breakfast?” he asked, with a hopeful smile.
Your eyes widened at his proposal and Bucky wasn’t sure if that was a positive reaction. He hadn’t asked anyone on a date in far longer than he wanted to admit and he knew he was rusty.
“As a concerned medical professional I gotta make sure you don’t pass out again,” he said, chewing on his bottom lip as he waited for your response.
A wide smile spread across your face as you accepted his offer and it felt like he could breathe again.
Bucky helped you stand, assuring that you were steady and held your hoodie up as you slipped your arms in. As you zipped yourself up he leaned over the cot, grabbing something and studying it curiously.
“Uhh… is this…” he laughed, holding out the palm of his hand to reveal the penis necklace.
They might as well take all the blood from your body since you practically died on the spot.
“This is the worst day of my life,” you deadpanned.
Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, offering his arm out for you to hold. On your way towards the door you passed by the smiling hunks with Sam smirking at you both. Bucky slapped his hand, placing the penis necklace in his palm leaving Sam very confused as the two of you walked away.
It was a quick walk to the place Bucky wanted to take you for breakfast, a trendy little spot with exposed brick and wood beams and old floors that creaked under your step. A relaxed voice from behind the counter belonging to a man with a waxed mustache told you to seat yourselves.
Leading you to a table near the window, Bucky pulled out a mismatched chair for you before he sat down. You glanced around the room, spying lights strung across the ceiling and distressed furniture repurposed as the wait stations.
Menus were brought over and reading through the details of each item made your mouth water. Your starving stomach wanted all of it as you continued to scan through every delicious offering.
“So let’s get all of it,” Bucky replied to the comment you thought you said in your head.
“What?” your head lifted to see the sincerity in Bucky’s eyes.
Though he hardly knew you, Bucky was already willing to give you the world if you asked for it.
“No! I mean, I don’t think I could eat all of it anyway. Some of it, but not all,” you joked.
Bucky’s tongue poked out to wet his lips as he chuckled. “Y/N I mean it, get whatever you want. After donating you need to indulge.”
“Paramedic’s orders?” you asked with coy glint in your eyes.
A smile cemented itself on Bucky’s face as he replied, “That’s right doll, paramedic’s orders.”
By the time your server came around you decided to order avocado toast with a fried egg along with French toast that you insisted Bucky share with you.
During the wait for food you got to know each other. Bucky was from Brooklyn where he shared an apartment with Hunk 1, otherwise known as Steve, his best friend.
“He’s a punk but I love ‘im,” Bucky said without hesitation.
You didn’t realize how long you had been smiling until your food arrived and the act of chewing hurt your sore cheeks. You couldn’t help it though, everything about Bucky made your heart sing with joy. He was handsome and kind, funny and caring. He was… disappearing from your vision as you yawned widely, covering your mouth with your hand.
You had been yawning for a while, ignoring the need for sleep to continue talking with Bucky but it was finally catching up to you.
“I’m sorry, I’ve been selfish wantin’ to talk to ya all day,” he said.
“S’okay, I really didn’t want to leave either,” you admitted, sharing a smile with him.
Before leaving you exchanged numbers. “In case you feel faint,” Bucky said, nervously running his hands through his hair.
You caught the blush on his cheeks and felt your whole body fluttering. There was no doubt you would be calling him later; it was undeniable, Bucky Barnes made you weak.
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spider verse coffee shop au??
Anon im sorry i wanted to draw the coffeeshop au but ive been so tired lately so imma just overshare about what goes down bc this au is just (thick tombstone voice) : “everybody’s traumatized bitch lets get you a latte”
• this au is incredibly villain centric bc uhhhhh all i do is think about villains
• its also very aaron davis centric bc time to project my anxiety onto a grown ass man babey!!
• anyway this takes place in a normal world where there’s no superheros or avengers or what have you, everyone’s super average
• like i said this is more or less aaron centric and focuses on him readjusting to society and making connections with other people, and just healing in general. Aaron’s whole deal is that he was wrongfully arrested for defending himself against an off duty cop who was harassing him and ended up with a 10 year sentence (but was let off a year earlier for good behaviour). He’s got a lot of guilt bc of this if only for the fact that he feels like he let down his brother and Miles (who was a small lad at the time).
• Fun Fact! Jefferson was the one that picked up Aaron at the jail when he served out his sentence! The ride back to brooklyn was awkward! but also jefferson loves his brother and even tho they’ve had their falling outs he never once stopped believing that his brother was innocent. Jefferson also made sure to pull some strings and ended up getting an apartment set up for Aaron (even though jefferson and rio were 100% down to open their home to him for as long as it took him to get back onto his feet but of course aaron denied them bc he didnt want to be a burden) Aaron’s grateful but he tends to avoid his own family…a lot….
• it’s ridiculously hard to find a job bc nobody wants to hire an ex convict no matter the circumstances and Aaron’s legitimately about to lose hope when he spots an expensive looking shop nestled in between an old arcade and a knick knack shop
• ‘Vanessa’s Cafe’ is neatly printed above the door in fancy gold lettering. it’s obvious that the owner has serious cash bc the shop looks too damn good and too well maintained to be a regular mom and pop shop. there’s a help wanted sign hastily scribbled on a piece of notebook paper in the middle of the window which is odd since it off sets the professional vibe of the place. But hey it’s worth a shot so Aaron walks in ready to be denied another job only to find the weirdest looking group of people he’s ever seen.
• The first guy that catches his attention is the very large albino man who looks way too stressed out and manic to be working in a coffeeshop, but the job must pay well because he’s very well dressed.
• “Liv, for fuck’s sake! Clean your goddamn station!” he’s whisper shouting? Is that even a thing? oh look at that he’s got a full set of razor sharp teeth. huh. that’s a hell of an aesthetic he’s going for.
• The lady in question isn’t even giving him the time of day, just enthralled by her phone with a smile that looks too peaceful given what’s happening around her. She’s got wild hair tied up messily in a knitted bandana, weird glasses (custom made??) and when she glances up at aaron, her eyes widen in interest like he’s some anomaly to be cracked open. aaron looks anywhere that isnt the wild eyed lady at the counter.
• Theres another big guy that’s hanging around the back, heavily tattooed and lifting stacks of heavy boxes. Aaron takes notice of his prosthetic hand and the tattoo guy takes notice of Aaron.
• “Lonnie. Customer.” The Tattoo guy seems nonplussed about Aaron and walks into the back. aaron assumes that he’s offended him by staring at his prosthetic for longer than necessary which yeah….yeah he’s probably not happy about the staring.
• lonnie’s got a bad case of resting bitch face so he’s glaring at aaron without actually glaring and he’s just rough around ALL the edges so his tones got that nice bite to it as he shouts from across the counter (which is not something you do to a customer but it’s lonnie…..) "Hey! Ya looking for a job, skinny jeans?!“
• Aaron blanches at the idea of working with these people but he is absolutely desperate for a job at this point.
•"Yeah. I just got out of-”
•"Great, you’re hired! We’re speed running this whole introduction thing, string bean.“
•and that’s all i got other than like small details like:
•Peter B Parker owns a ”“’'cafe”“” across from Vanessa’s and its literally just a burger joint that h a p p e n s to sell coffee and Parker will fight you if you call his place a deli ahdhdj
•Liv and May are dating (big shock) and peter b has to constantly deal with seeing his competition over at his place all the time and it’s yikes
• Tombstone and Noir will 100% throw hands on contact. They don’t hate each other tho??? Its weird they just like to fight. gives them a chance to work on their banter i guess. Noir works the coffee machine at Peter’s “'cafe”’ so i guess he’s the “”barista”” of the joint but he drinks the coffee more than the customers do
• Miles and the rest of the spider kids “”“”“"intern”“”“” at the cafe which basically translates to free labor
• spider ham works there but he isnt a pig he’s just john mulaney. i know its weird. nobody actually sees him tho so he’s a complete mystery as to what he looks like so he could be john mulaney you never know. the only person who’s seen him is noir and that’s only bc they’re a thing???
•oh speaking of everyone being gay: everyone’s gay
• Lonnie and Gargan (tombstone and scorpion) are 100% dating but everyone legitimately thinks that the both of them are straight old men despite the fact that they live together, go to work together, hang out afterwards together, and they’re just always together
• lonnie’s daughter (janice) visits every other week (def the product of a divorce he went through years ago) she’s alright with gargan but she’s very distant towards her dad and def has that teen angst phase that she’s going through
• (lonnie can and will talk to you for hours about how much he loves and supports his daughter despite the fact that their relationship is very estranged)
• you can find janice hanging out with the cute blond punk girl at that weird burger/coffee place across the street
• oh gargan’s big and strong despite the fact that he’s missing three limbs, liv works in robotics on the side and constantly tweaks and repairs his prosthetics when they start acting up which leads to them having this weird friendship where they both borrow each other when they need something and dont really expect anything in return (like gargan’s good for getting her supplies and doing heavy lifting when she needs it and liv’s always down to run check ups on gargan)
• oh yeah liv used to be a scientist but immediately lost her license and phd when she started going above some board members heads to buy less than legal things through super illegal sources
.• that’s another thing, kingpin tends to just hire ex cons and criminals to work in his cafe just bc he believes that a person willing to work hard to better themselves deserves a chance to re enter society again.
• like they’ve all done bad things but still ended up with a job at the cafe. aaron fought a cop, liv did some shady deals for an illegal experiment, gargan used to run a drug ring years ago due to personal reasons but once he was free from jail he never dealt with the stuff again, and lonnie killed a dude (allegedly. he never went to jail bc they couldn’t prove anything but hey word spread around quick and everyone knew not to go anywhere near this guy)
• kingpin is in this au btw he’s just……a very depressed man who’s still grieving over his wife and son dying in a car accident
.• he rarely shows up to run the cafe bc its too much for him being in the place that his wife loved and built up from the ground. he used to be the manager after she died but couldn’t handle it and mostly left lonnie to take care of it
• which holy fuck lonnie is trying his best to keep this cafe alive and well and there’s only two other people working there so like its enough to have him scrambling all over the place trying to find more help (thanks aaron)
•miles doesn’t know aaron’s working at the cafe across the street and aaron def wants it that way bc even tho he’s out of jail he hasn’t actually……visited miles yet….. it’s the shame that’s keeping aaron from reaching out to him which is….sad bc miles doesn’t care what happened he just wants his uncle back.
• oh oh one more thing RIPeter used to run the deli across the street but had to leave brooklyn to go volunteer at homeless shelters across the states indefinitely so theres no telling when he’ll be back, so he left the cafe under the guidance of pb parker (peter b parker voice: my cafe now)
•and uhhh thats all i got, like i said this au is just found family trope + the healing we all want + bad people getting redemption which is all the tropes that i love all compacted together in the most cliche au you can imagine!
#itsv#aaron davis#the prowler#liv octavius#doctor octopus#lonnie lincoln#mac gargan#hi i work at a starbucks and it's hell so this is how i cope babey!!#spider verse#spiderman#the life and times of a robot prince
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Where the Lightning Splits the Sea | Mature | 68,308
Author: thepopeisdope (@thursdays-fallen-angel) | Artist: Deli (@delicious-irony)
Seattle’s hero never fails to live up to his given nickname. Like an angel, he appears when he’s needed most, a miracle when none is expected; he gets in quick, then gets out quicker, and like the angel he is, he goes off to perform his miracles elsewhere, often without any link between one miracle and the next, aside from the fact that he shows up when someone needs help.
That’s how Dean met him, after all. The Angel is the only reason he’s alive.
And that’s also why Dean is more than a little bit in love with him.
But when the Angel is suddenly defeated, Dean’s world turns on its head. His city is in a vacuum, heroless for the first time in years, and to make Dean’s life even harder, his roommate has turned quiet, withdrawn. Dean doesn’t know what happened to make Cas’ mood swing so drastically, but he wants nothing more than to see him happy again. Dean owes the Angel a debt. Choosing between the two isn’t an easy thing to do.
When the Hunter is born, the balance becomes nearly impossible to keep up.
Link to fic | Link to art
Tags & warnings under the cut!
Pairings: Dean/Cas (Charlie/Jo)
Warnings: No major archive warnings, but mentions of violence, and mentions of drinking, drugs, and parties.
Tags: Superhero AU, College AU, Superhero!Dean, Superhero!Cas, Mistaken Identities
#destiel#deancas#destiel fic#destiel art#deancas fic#deancas art#pinefest 2019#masterpost#submission#superhero au#college au#mistaken identities#thepopeisdope#delicious-irony
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Introductory Note About the AU & Other Chapters & Face Claims
-a/n start-
[Potential spoilers for anyone who hasn’t seen or finished TUA Netflix series but seriously how could you stop yourself from watching such a captivating show.]
Word Count: 1777
I’m sorry because of... uhh.. reasons.
-a/n end-
The Hargreeves Case
Chapter 16
Monica’s whole morning was spent tagging along with Captain Lee to take down minutes with his meeting with the Deputy Chief. The meeting had completely slipped her mind due to the events last night, apparent when she settled at her desk at the same time the Captain came out of his office asking if she was ready to go.
She rushed to get her stuff together as the Captain made his way outside first, and once Monica was ready she sprinted out of the door. She met Diego who was just getting inside the precinct but only had the time to tap him on the shoulder and mouth a gotta go before she was out.
When Monica got back after lunch she found a bag with a sandwich from a nearby deli Diego had probably gotten her for lunch. She had already eaten with her uncle on the way back to the precinct so she thought she’d keep it later for snacks or maybe even dinner since it was Jessica and Ben’s date night again and she didn’t want to be alone in the apartment with Alice.
She looked around but couldn’t find Diego anywhere, she assumed he may have been called to go on the field since Chuck wasn’t around as well so she just sat at her desk and continued working. It wasn’t until late in the afternoon when the two detectives arrived at the precinct with a perp in handcuffs looking sorry for himself.
Diego briefly made eye contact with Monica from across the room and he gave a simple nod before he and Chuck dragged the perp to the interrogation room. Monica could have sworn she saw a cut on the perp’s leg that made him limp and she had a wild guess on how he got that.
The sky had gotten dark and Monica was sitting at the pantry, eating the sandwich Diego got her earlier. They still hadn’t come out of the interrogation room but she had no plans of going home early anyway so she decided to wait.
Most of the other staff had gone home and most of the lights were off except for the ones by hers, Diego’s, and Chuck’s desks and of course the ones in the pantry where she was right now. She had already eaten half of her sandwich before she heard movement at the office and Diego popped into the pantry.
“Fucking interrogation went on forever.” he grunted as he stomped his way to the coffee maker to make himself a cup.
“Kinda late for coffee.” Monica commented.
“It helps with my headaches.”
“Hey Diego.” Chuck said as he popped his head into the pantry as well. “Perp’s in the holding cell. I’ll be heading out now, that interrogation burned all my brain cells. You guys close up the office?” he said.
“Leave it to us, Chuckybee.” Monica responded.
“I told you not to call me that.” Chuck said exasperatedly. “Anyway, I’m going. See you tomorrow. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“What was that supposed to mean?” Monica said as Chuck left.
“Probably caught the perp’s case of stupid.” Diego answered, leaning on the counter as he waited for the coffee to start brewing.
“Did you still get a confession though?”
“We didn’t we just put him in the holding cell to play with the other perps.” Diego said sarcastically and his tone a bit snappy.
“Jesus, I was just asking…” Monica said, a bit taken aback by his remark. Diego sighed as he turned to look at Monica.
“Sorry. It was a long afternoon. Are you just eating that?” he said, noticing Monica had been munching on the sandwich he got her for lunch.
“Uncle Gwim and I had lunch after the meeting so I’m having this as my dinner. It’s date night again for Jessie and Ben, and I don’t want to be alone with Alice.”
“I would've taken you out to dinner.” Diego said with a shrug.
“We could still eat out. Of course, you’d be the only one eating and I’d just watch you eat.”
“That’d be weird.”
“Not as weird as Alice trying to synchronize putting food in her mouth at the same time you do during breakfast.”
Picturing this out made Diego chuckle as he said, “Seems like she likes you.”
“She did help me put on my bandages last night. We bonded for a bit.” as Monica said this she closed and opened on of her fists slowly to test if it still hurt and the bandages weren’t too tight. “She kept asking what it’s like dating a Mexican. I guess I kinda like her too.” she said with a short laugh.
“For fuck’s sake.” Diego muttered as he shook his head in exasperation. He turned back to the coffee machine which finished brewing and poured himself a cup. He blew a bit at the fresh, hot coffee before taking a sip and as he placed the cup down he found Monica by his side, leaning on the counter and looking at him with her arms crossed in front of her.
“You are extra grumpy today, Sir.” she commented.
“You try sitting in a room with a perp giving you stupid answers for three hours.” Diego retorted.
“Nah, that’s not it. You missed me, didn't you?” Monica taunted with a smirk. Diego only snorted haughtily in response as he took another sip of his coffee. “Really?” she said, slighted at his reaction before she got off the counter and started walking away in a huff.
“Heyheyheywait.” Diego said, leaving his cup of coffee on the counter and catching Monica by the arm before she could leave the pantry. “Monica I was just screwing with you. Now look who’s the grumpy one.” he said as he gently tugged her towards him so she was facing him and he could bring his arms around her waist.
“No.” she said as she pulled Diego’s hands off of her and she turned to continue walking towards her desk.
“What the--Monica!” Diego exclaimed, not expecting this reaction as he followed her into the main office. “Okay, I get it. I was pissed off and taking some of it out on you, you don’t have to be so sensitive about it.”
Monica shot him a look of disbelief before she scoffed and proceeded to gather her things from her desk.
“Oh c’mon, stop this already.” Monica still continued to ignore Diego and once she got all her stuff together she was about to walk right past Diego when he stopped her again by grabbing her arm. “Are you just going to keep ignoring me?” he said.
“What if I do?” Monica responded, turning to him and pulling her arm away from Diego’s grasp so she could cross both arms in front of her.
“Well you’re not ignoring me now.”
“Wrong response.” she said and started walking away again. She had reached Chuck’s desk when she felt Diego grab her by the arm but this time more firm, maybe even forceful. He pulled her to the chair, the sudden movement making her drop her bag as Diego made her sit down, placing both his hands on both armrests of the chair.
He had her trapped and Monica was forced to look up at Diego, who was smirking.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do.” he said.
“Oh yeah? Will the kind detective who’s got me trapped in a swiveling chair enlighten me?” Monica retorted.
“Eventually you were going to say something in the lines of ‘Talk to me in Mexican and I’ll stop ignoring you.’” he responded matter-of-factly.
“Oh jeez, papi. You caught me red-handed.” she snickered as she put her hands up like a criminal being caught.
“You think it’s cute when you say that, it’s not.” Diego remarked.
“There’s nothing you can do about it… papi.” Monica taunted, inching her face closer to Diego’s. She felt her cheeks flush and her heart pumping wildly staring into his intense gaze, you’d think she’d gotten used to it by now. “W-well…” as her voice broke she cleared her throat. “That’s enough fun for today, Hargreeves. C’mon let’s get you din--”
Diego’s sudden kiss rendered her speechless and weak, his hand making its way to her nape, giving her a gentle push to deepen the kiss. She responded with her arms locking around his neck and parting her lips to make way for his tongue.
With his other hand Diego swept some of the contents of Chuck’s desk out of the way, resulting in some folders and papers falling to the floor, the mouse and keyboard dangling on the edge of the desk and his monitor precariously askew and only inches away from falling. Diego stopped the kissing for a moment to lift Monica off the chair and plop her on the semi-cleared away desk. Her skirt lifted a bit as her legs parted for Diego to move between them so their bodies could get closer.
“Chuck told us not to do anything stupid.” Monica said in a whisper, her lips brushing against his.
“He’s stupid.” was all he said in response.
Monica kept her arms around Diego as they continued the heated kissing, Diego’s hands running down and caressing the small of her back until they rested on her waist. Aware of the security cameras and the fact that this was their office prevented them from going any further.
But they would have continued making out a little longer if it weren’t for another distraction in the form of a tall, lanky man in tight black clothes and a black coat with fluff around the collar and hems of the sleeves waltzing into their office like it wasn’t a police station.
How he was able to make it past security was a mystery.
“Hey Diego! Guess who just got out of reha--uhh the recreational center for troubled former superheroes with shitty dads! Yeah that sounds right. Gamora’s our poster girl, you’ll love her. Oh wait you’re busy.”
At the sound of another person’s voice the two pushed themselves away from each other and Monica hopped off the table. In her panic she didn’t have the time to recognize the voice but when she turned and looked up to find out who it was her flushed rosy cheeks quickly turned pale.
“Klaus, for the nth time you can’t just walk in here like you own the place.” Diego said, but he noticed whatever smile Klaus had on his face before was wiped away and replaced with a cold glare, but it wasn’t directed at him.
“Hello Maica, seems like you met my brother.”
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