Oops... My Bad - A Wrong Number Story

8

The meme actually made me cry... but um we don't talk abt that

Also I forgot to say that I have tweaked the plot a bit because... I have the power. Also guys I am really sorry because I will be changing this so that is not a reader fic anymore. Y/N will now be a girl called Ariadne. But if you want you can still think of her as you but I just had a whole new idea when I was cuddling with my cat so... Yeah. Oops... My bad

I really can't be asked to go back and change every single Y/N so yeah Enjoy...? I guess....

Y/N POV

I grabbed the edge of the water pipe and pulled myself up, muscles straining as I climbed onto the rooftop. The metal was cold beneath my hands, slick with condensation, but I'd done this enough times to move like it was second nature. Once I reached the top, I sat down and let the night air wash over me. From up here, the city looked alive — a sprawling sea of lights, glittering and breathing like some massive, electric creature. The Manhattan skyline stretched out before me, proud and unshakable, all sharp edges and glowing windows.

And there it was. The Avengers Tower. My favorite sight in the whole city. It stood tall and radiant, the "A" blazing in the dark sky like a beacon. I used to stand outside it for hours, just staring up at it through the gates — half-hoping, half-dreaming that one day I'd belong somewhere like that. I guess you could say it became my spot. My quiet piece of something bigger.

I hugged my knees to my chest and watched the skyline for a few more minutes, thinking about how the city had been broken once, torn apart by war and chaos, and yet... here it stood. Strong again. Whole again. The resilience of New York was something I never stopped admiring. Maybe I related to that a little too much.

Eventually, I stood and stretched, ready to move. The rooftops called to me like they always did — an open playground above the noise. I started running, jumping from building to building, my footsteps echoing against the concrete. The rush of wind tangled in my hair as I vaulted over vents and satellite dishes, narrowly dodging what looked suspiciously like a pile of bird crap. "That was close," I muttered, wrinkling my nose. "That would've been a fun laundry day."

Before long, I realized I hadn't gone too far from home. If I hopped on the subway, I could be across town in under an hour. The idea of sitting on public transport in my full suit made me snort. I could already imagine the looks. Still, I shrugged. Not like anyone's going to track down a masked nobody on a train, right?

So, I did it. I slipped down from the rooftops and made my way to the nearest subway station.

The platform was quiet this late — dim lighting, flickering signs, and that faint smell of metal and dust that every station seems to have. When the train pulled in with a screech, I stepped inside and scanned the mostly empty carriage. Just the usual suspects: a couple of drunk people slumped in their seats, someone half-asleep clutching a grocery bag, and one older woman with silver hair neatly pinned back, sitting near the window.

Her eyes landed on me immediately. She squinted, her expression soft but curious. After a moment, she tilted her head and asked, in that warm, old-lady voice that somehow makes you feel both comforted and mildly scolded at the same time,
"Oh my, are you going to one of those comic-con events, dear?"

I blinked, then smiled — couldn't help it. "Oh, no, I just came from my friend's costume party.... Grandma" I said, putting on my most innocent grin.

She chuckled, her laugh low and raspy, like an old radio trying to find the right station. "Oh, I haven't been called Grandma in over seventy years," she said with a nostalgic little sigh.

"You don't look that old," I replied automatically.

Her eyes twinkled. "Why, thank you, sweetheart. Aren't you polite? I hope you had fun at your friend's party."

"I did, thank you," I said, smiling again — genuinely this time.

As the train slowed at the next station, she stood, gathering her purse. "Well, this is my stop, dear. Get home safe now, and have a lovely night."

"Bye!" I waved as she left, and when the doors closed, I slumped back in my seat, groaning.

"Seriously? 'Costume party'?" I muttered to myself. "Couldn't have come up with something cooler?" I rubbed my forehead and sighed dramatically. "And did I really just call her Grandma? What is wrong with me?" I threw my hands up. "Everything. Everything is wrong with me. Great job, Ariadne Ba- Vance. Truly spectacular work."

The train rattled on, and when the carriage emptied out a few stops later, I dug into my bag, pulling out a plain hoodie and a pair of jeans. I slipped them on quickly, tugging the hood over my head — no need to draw extra attention on the streets.

When I got off the subway, the city greeted me with its usual mix of noise and neon. Shops were still open, their lights spilling onto the pavement. I walked for a bit, my eyes skimming over store signs until one in particular caught my attention: Delmar's.

The bell above the door jingled as I stepped inside. Warm air and the smell of toasted bread and coffee hit me all at once — heaven. The place had this cozy, lived-in charm, like it had been part of the neighborhood forever. Behind the counter stood a man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper hair — Mister Delmar, I assumed.

But what really caught my attention was the boy sitting in the corner, hunched over a book with a cat curled up in his lap. He looked about my age, maybe a little older. The cat stretched, yawned, and promptly went back to sleep. Cute. Both of them.

I drifted toward the counter, scanning the menu. That's when my stomach dropped — I didn't have enough money. Not even close. I was about to make a quiet exit when the man behind the counter spoke.

"Which one you want?"

I froze. "Oh, uh, it's fine, really. I don't have enough—"

He cut me off, his voice firm but kind. "That's not what I asked."

I hesitated. "I can pay you three dollars, but that's all I've got."

He waved me off. "You look hungry, kid. I don't want your money. Now, which one?"

Before I could respond, the boy with the cat glanced up. "Number five's the best," he said shyly. "With pickles. And smushed down flat." He smiled awkwardly, like he instantly regretted speaking. "Sorry, I just—"

I smiled back, shaking my head. "No, it's fine. Thanks for the tip." Then I turned back to Mister Delmar. "What he said, please. And... thank you. Really."

He nodded. "No problem, kid."

I People in Queens were so nice. Seriously. And not to mention... kind of fine- WHAT WHO SAID THAT?! Hmm.... Must've been the wind

Wow another chapter up. I really am amazing. Sorry guys my chapters are really short I know.

*Sighs*

Anyway love you all 3000 Bye

-Ariadne (Seb's Version)