After procrastinating for several months I thought it was high time I sat down and actually put this together. So, below are my absolute favorite blogs I have found during the year and a half I’ve been on tumblr. Whether we’re close friends, have only talked a couple times, complete strangers or not even mutuals, each of these blogs makes my dashboard flawless and I’m so happy I follow them. <33
You finally arrive to the driveway of your house, but had no idea what to do at this point. Putting the car on park didn’t even cross your mind. Instead, you placed your hands tightly clenched around the steering wheel with your foot pressed steadily against the brake pedal and stared blankly ahead of you onto the dirty white canvas of your garage.
You play back the scene that unfolded not too long ago.
“Explain? Explain?! After all this time, now you want an explanation? And no shit you didn’t know! You wouldn’t know if I really did, or anything else for that matter, because the last time I saw you was two freaking months ago! Two, Nate, two! That’s more than ‘a couple of weeks’ don’t you think?! I mean, did you even notice at all?”
“I… I did notice, (Y/N). How could I not? Maybe you’re right. Let’s forget any of this happened. You won’t get it, too,”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you scoffed to yourself. “What’s there to even get? He’s the one who dropped your friendship after he found a girl. He’s the one who stopped all efforts into anything. He’s the one who left everything. Him, he’s the one.” You strained your mind, not out of anger anymore, but out of frustration trying to figure out what the hell he could have meant, trying to justify that the fall of the friendship was not your fault. But all the trying, none of it was working. You wished so hard that you and Nate could talk…talk about anything, really. You just wanted to go back to the way things were. You sighed. “But everything’s way past that now,” you softly spoke.
When your hands finally got tired, you let go on the steering wheel and turned off the ignition to your car. You lost track of time, hence, the 20 minute difference from when you first came here. A sigh exited your parted lips. “I guess I should go in,” you tried to convince yourself, only to see that you lost track of time yet again. 30 minutes into the making and you’re still more confused than ever.
Then your phone rang loudly and broke your occupied state of mind. “Hello?” you asked, too flaccid to look down at the caller ID before you picked up.
“(Y/N),” the person said. “I’m going to walk up to your car right now, so don’t be startled, okay? It’s just me.”
You turn around and see a dark silhouette approaching the car. “Well, that’s not creepy at all,” you mumbled under your nose, hanging up the phone right after.
The person stands outside your window, knocking persistently, yet gently on it. “You know, you should really turn off the light if you plan to sleep out here tonight.”
You scoffed a smirk at his wit. You went back to staring ahead of you at the garage, but this time to intentionally ignore the person outside your car.
“(Y/N), come on,” he kept knocking. “Open the door.”
You shook your head. “I told you goodnight.”
“No,” he stubbornly rejected your dismissal. “I can sit here all night, (Y/N).”
“Samuel!” you firmly shouted.
He raised his finger and started furiously moving it side to side. “No! You don’t get to ‘Samuel!’ me! Now come out before I pull you out there myself or I’ll wait all night out here until you leave. You gotta pee at some point with all that apple cider you drank.”
You flung your head back and reluctantly rolled down your window. “Why’d you come here, Sam? I was gonna go to sleep.”
“Oh, really? You call sitting outside in your car for who knows how long ‘going to sleep’? You’ll be a human popsicle by the time you hit the next hour. Are headlights the new night-light?”
You didn’t even notice the headlights were still on, but it clicked to you as to how Sam knew you were in the car after you shut the engine off.
Moving on from the thoughts, you unlock the doors and Sam quickly reacted by running to the passenger side. When he got in, you immediately melted into his arms. No words were exchanged.
“I know, (Y/N), I know,” he cooed, rubbing his arm up and down yours. “Feelings suck…” As he continued to console you, he stopped his movements and whispered, “Oh, shit…”
You looked up in response to see what had happened. “What is it?” You sniffled then faced towards the direction he was stunned by and it was the door to your house. And there it was, it so happened to have a tall, lean boy standing in front of it, obviously in frantic search for you.
“Well, damn. Would you look at that,” Sam chuckled in disbelief. “Finally…”
A/N: Bout time I finished this part, right guys?! Hahaha, it didn’t end out the way I wanted it to since I love doing series in 3′s, but this one will have to be a 4 part story. (: The real scene unfolds there. 😏 I know, I know. Bummer, huh? You might have to wait months again! Noo, I’m just kidding… Hopefully… Anyway, school’s over for me in less than a week and I’ll finally have time to write again, and I seriously cannot wait. So let’s pray I don’t take nearly as long with that one as I did with this one.
Please, hit me in my inbox and tell me how you want this to end! I’d love to know what you guys wanna see. 💕
“Wade, stop being a moron for five minutes and sit still.”
Peter rolled his eyes as the mercenary attempted to Macarena around the small, square space in the elevator. The music didn’t even fit the dance, but Wade probably knew how childish and annoying he was being, and knew that it would grate on Peter’s nerves.
Wade’s grin was easily seen under the mask, and Peter groaned internally.
“Sure thing, Petey!” And with a plonk, Wade practically fell onto the floor of the elevator, sitting cross-legged. Peter rolled his eyes again.
“That wasn’t - never mind. Just stay still,” he muttered, and leaned back into the corner, closing his eyes eyes has Wade began humming the Macarena over the elevator music.
This, of course, was when the elevator decided to jerk violently and suddenly stop.
Peter’s eyes shot open, and he looked around the glorified steel box, hands unconsciously gripping the rails.
“Wha - what just happened?” Peter asked, voice quivering slight. He lightly shook his head, squeezing his hands hard around the railbars.
Not the time to be panicing, he thought. Everything’s going to be fine. Besides, Wade will never let me hear the end of this.
“Prolly a power cut - or I’m fatter than I thought. D’ya think that happens much? Being Stark and all, I though he woulda gotten rid of elevator problems and shit,” Wade replied, seemingly unaware of Peter’s unease. “Speakin’ of which, this reminds me of that one time I was in Tokyo - real nice place, Petey, I’ve gotta take you there sometime - an’ I was supposed to kill some dickhead millionaire over some kinda cocaine shit, dealer wasn’t happy, wanted me to kill him, some shit like that, right? And so I was in this elevator, makin’ my way aaall the way up top, when this chick comes in on like, the ninth floor - who builds nine floors anyway? Like the hell? - and we go up a couple more floors, and then it fucking stalls, three floors away from where I’m s’possed to go. And this chick, she’s freaking out and worrying and shit, and then I’m like, “don’t worry babe, I’ll keep your mind off things!” And so I back her up into the corner of the elevator, and I -”
“Wade?” Peter breathed, eye closed again.
“Yeah, baby boy?”
“I am not going to kiss you in an elevator.”
Peter couldn’t see Wade’s face behind the mask, but he knew that Wade had a shit-eating grin plastered on. Peter reminded himself that yes, murder was bad, even if they were annoying, loud-mouthed mercenaries who would live through it anyway.
“But you’d kiss me if we weren’t in an elevator?” Wade asked, slowly getting up.
“Wha-? I - no!” Peter stammered, pressing himself even further into the corner, pole digging into his back, as Wade moved forward. “Wade, I will kick you into the other side of the elevator.”
Wade had completely invaded his personal bubble, and Peter could feel the warmth radiating off of him, could the smile in that rough voice when Wade replied. Peter’s breath hitched.
“Aw, c’mon, baby boy, you don’t wanna do that,” Wade breathed. “You liiiiike me!”
The air caught in his throat, and then let out again as Wade moved even closer, and tugged the top of his mask over his mouth and nose, red scars and grin now easily visible.
“I really don’t,” Peter muttered, eyes dropping down to Wade’s lips, tracking the movement of his tongue when it flicked out to wet the presumably dried lips.
“Is that why you let me get so close, Spidey?” Wade grin somehow got even bigger. Peter shook his head, and moved, his lips almost brushing the Merc’s.
“And if I don’t?” Wade tipped his head up slightly, heavy-lidded eyes still boring into Peter’s, coy smile playing on his lips. “You gonna do somethin’ to me?”
Peter’s mouth quirked. “Wilson, if you don’t kiss me in the next -”
The elevator lurched, and Peter was thrown forwards into Wade’s chest with an oof! as it started up again, making it’s speedy ascent. Peter pushed off Wade’s broad, muscly chest - and god, if he wasn’t going to be thinking about that for the next few days - and grasped one of the rails.
“I guess Stark fixed the problem. Hey, did I ever finish tellin’ you ‘bout that time I was stuck in the elevator with the hot chick?” Wade scratched the top of his head through the mask. “Huh, don’ think I did. So, anyway, there we were - elevator had stopped, hot chick was freakin’ the fuck out, and I was like -”
Peter tuned him out, groaning internally. He could make it through the debriefing with Tony and Cap, make it home, and forget about all of this forever. Maybe not leave his house in the foreseeable future. Or ever.
The elevator doors slid open as they reached the top floor, and Peter was about to walk out, pointedly leaving a still-rambling Wade Wilson behind, before an arm grasped his bicep and pulled him back.
“And don’t think I forgot about what almost happened back there,” Wade murmured into his ear. “I’m still expecting a kiss after this.”
Wade let go of his arm, and pushed past Peter, whistling, leaving Peter frozen and speechless in the elevator.
Shit, was the only thing Peter could muster before tearing after Wade.
There’s a fifteen year old girl lying on the operating table in front of her, letting out stuttering gasps of breath as blood pours from the arrow wound in her chest.
Clarke curses under her breath as she pours more moonshine on the wound, feeling a pang in her chest as the girl- Mary, a part of her mind remembers- cries out in obvious pain. She wishes that she could have been unconscious for this, been unaware of the agony her body was in, but she knows that if the girl falls asleep, chances are she won’t wake up.