#stacy steers
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On October 11, 2018, Edge of Alchemy was screened at the TOHorror Film Fest.
#edge of alchemy#edge of alchemy 2017#stacy steers#antony cooper#arthouse film#avant garde#avant garde film#experimental film#art film#film collage#arthouse cinema#movie art#art#drawing#movie history#pop art#modern art#pop surrealism#cult movies#portrait#cult film
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𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲 || 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
part one || part two: so many signs
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ When Miguel fell so hard for an anomaly that ended up being another one of his canon events; a soulmate. Only that it was late, very late.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ fluff, angst?, reader is a hot Hispanic sunshine, plot twist at the end, age gap? (How old is Miguel?, like 28, early 30's?, reader is like 20 not specified) I'm 19, so in my head reader is 20, fuck it <3.
𝐀𝐍_ hellooo, this is my Ist fic for this fandom, I've been trying to hide this crush for weeks, I can't anymore.
♪ ♫ 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙊𝙍𝙎𝙏 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙈𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙡 𝙈𝙤𝙟𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖.
<3,𝙄𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙭 (+fics)
_________________
[11 months before the events of SPIDER-MAN: ATSV]…
Nothing is perfect; nothing can be that special. But somehow, you ended up being that, at least almost.
Because this is how everything starts; you were stressing out for college sophomore year finals when in the middle of your room, a portal opened and absorbed you.
Sounds incredibly ridiculous and cringe… Right?. Sorry, but it’s about to get worse.
The portal only left you there, hanging between random universes, and out of nowhere, a spider bit you. And seconds later, you were back at home stressing over the finals.
Yeah, you didn’t think it would be a problem, only that it increased your phobia of spiders. Later, you accepted that Los Angeles would have an arachnid vigilante.
Yeah, Los Angeles. No shit, you wouldn’t fly to save New York in your universe just to fit the stereotype. Besides, they already had one, the most significant and original anomaly, Miles Morales.
That’s for later, by the way.
You had your suspicions that the multiverse existed but no curiosity. You only cared about your sacred California and, to be more specific, your friends and family.
So it goes; you were a sparkly spider-girl with glitter webs and fantastic hair, saving people from the crime on Skid Row, abusive elites in Downtown, corruption in Glendale, and extortions from Santa Clarita.
Your family knew about it, and your friends too. They helped to pick out your surname; Aragmatica.
So you had everything; no pressure from being the spider-girl Aragmatica, wonderful friends, and family. A transcription remote job and a firm college pathway to be a writer and teacher.
Except for one thing; love.
You didn’t have anyone to hold, anyone who made you laugh like never. Someone who made you feel the scarlet blush and raced heartbeats.
Nah, fuck that. You don’t need a man.
________
Warm day in Hollywood Hills, 12:00 pm.
Finally, your official transcript from that year was carefully sealed in an envelope. Summer break was yours, starting with a good ballet class.
Your spider senses weren’t fully developed because you never saw 4 pair of eyes watching you.
The class was fun, though. All the music was from the most famous plays, and having the opportunity to wear a tutu was always accepted.
You didn’t care coming out of the building wearing it after the friendly teacher gifted you the fluffy piece of clothing.
You also didn’t care to sing slightly aloud as you walked towards your car.
And that’s when 4 individuals interfered with your way; Peter B. Parker, Hobie Brown, and Gwen Stacy.
“Uh… nice cosplays. But the Comic-Con is more to the south. In San Diego…” They looked at each other. Only the older guy stepped further, laughing.
“Oh, you’re funny. There’s also one in my universe, but it’s celebrated in Coney Island and-“ only that Gwen pinched him. The older man frowned.
“She’s leaving, Peter,” Gwen said.
“Hey! Wait!” Peter stopped you from closing your car door, and you looked more confused than ever.
“Dude, back off. There’s a kid between us. You don’t want to do this…” Hobie giggled. He had remained leaning against a mailbox during the whole interaction.
“What? No-, I-. We need to talk to you… we’re also spider people” Rolling your eyes, you just rested your head on the steering wheel.
“Yeah, your suits are too good to cosplay. I like your pointe shoes though” Gwen blushed but said thank you for your flattery.
“I’m Peter Parker. The guy with the cool outfit that’s Hobie Brown. And the girl with the pointe shoes you liked is Gwen Stacy” They looked lovely. Hobie and Gwen, probably your age, but you were running late for dinner. You had to drop the transcript for validation in early registration for a master's program.
You didn’t have time for this Have you heard of the Avengers initiative? moment.
The best you could do was politely turn them down. But they were already inside your car.
“Hey!. Okay, if this is some spider intervention, I don’t have time to travel between universes and that stuff” Hobie started playing your radio. Again, you rolled your eyes.
“This is good music, girl. Nice…” he said, making you smile a little. He seemed nicer.
“Thanks, but…” Then Gwen interrupted you.
“You could be dangerous or cause a massive disaster for the canon. You are a rare case between spiders” For the first time, you were quiet. Maybe that omen was this, that not everything could be perfect.
“You felt it….” Peter said because your silence was loud enough to tell him.
“You knew about us then?”
“The multiverse and variations are not a thrill in this universe. I wasn’t expecting this on a random Friday afternoon,” you explained.
“Our boss wants to meet you. We need to know what type of anomaly you are” They all heard you sighing. You had too many questions but were tired, so you wouldn’t be annoying.
“Okay.” Peter shrugged in disbelief.
“That’s it?. No questions?” Gwen passed you a blue band, probably to travel between universes.
“She’s not energetic nor annoying. Miguel will like her,” Hobie stated, comfortable in the passenger seat.
“Just don’t smile too much, avoid questions, and you’ll be fine” Humming in agreement, you waited.
A portal of bright colors and blinding flashes appeared seconds later from your car's windshield. It was different from what you expected. In the movies looked easier.
“Okay, here we go…” Peter announced. And with fast blood pressure, you followed them.
The first thing you felt was the urge to complain on the ground. Laying on your stomach, with your hair in a now disheveled bun.
Everyone turned to look at you, finally noticing you were wearing a tutu and leotard in grey and black colors.
“Lost your hoodie?” Gwen asked, being the first to start giggling, followed by the others.
“Could any of you have alerted me to prepare for this type of landing?” You asked anyone in particular. Then you analyzed Gwen’s question.
“MY hoodie!. Damnit, it was new!” And that’s how you lost 75 dollars. But soon, you stopped thinking about the new tour merch you lost.
It was a bright earth, futuristic and agitated. And as soon as you entered the giant building, you noticed it was full of spider people.
From any size to any color, but… no one was similar to you. Well, you didn’t have a suit yet, but… you couldn’t feel a spider sense with anyone.
“Surprised?” Gwen asked, walking by your side.
“Well. I’d rather say disturbed,” she giggled.
“You’re unlike any spider I’ve met,” the blonde added.
“I can’t be special. I must be the most boring spider-girl….” Bored or not, you were missing dinner. Your family would be worried if you didn’t come back past midnight. Hopefully, your first interaction with another universe will be quick.
“That’s why you must be here…” said a new voice.
A pregnant spider-woman?. Could you feel any weirder?.
“Yeah…I’m y/n. No suit yet, but I have the name of Aragmatica” She nodded. Her yellow glasses were very cool, you liked her look in general.
“We know that. But let’s go. Miguel needs to see you….” and officially, that was the beginning of everything.
The HQ was futuristic, wide and full of people. Everything was so weird that edged being ridiculous. Until, the group of spiders lead you to a dark room. Full of technology and chemistry stuff.
For the first time, you felt a tingle when he finally faced you; Miguel O’Hara. And to be honest, his broad and tall figure intimidated you.
He said you were a bizarre anomaly. You were the only spider person who had been bitten between universes. Meaning that you were an accident, nobody was like you.
Unconsciously, your own canon was building up as every day passed. So your actions were vital for everyone.
He offered you a place in the group to keep order among universes. Suspicious, but seemed honest at the same time.
“I appreciate the offer, but I have a degree to finish. And I got enrolled for summer ballet classes….” you said, ambling towards the exit.
“No. You need to be a responsible spider girl and do what you’re expected to do,” the man said, intimidating you more as he towered you. Beside getting lost in his amazing hair, intriguing brown eyes and sharp jaw, your thoughts were running. Maybe you were being selfish. Most of the people in the room had lost a lot. You didn’t.
“You just said I’m an accident. There are no expectations from me. I can’t break canon. I’m making my own….” you dared to say, avoiding looking into his brown eyes.
“You want to find out?” a little closer, and you would touch his chest. Besides, the tingle was back. Miguel also felt it, but he called it on you being angered by this new phase you would enter.
You knew he was going to be hard to deal with. But deep inside, you liked the feeling he had planted on your stomach.
“No…” you admitted. Slightly afraid of losing what you had. He smiled but for less than a second.
“That’s what I thought” After that, it was history.
________
Two months. And things were… okay.
You made a great friendship with Peter and Hobie. Something inside you was stopping you from trusting Gwen at all.
Then, Jessica was good but slightly challenging. Even Pavitr was good.
And then, it was Miguel.
Fucking Miguel O’Hara. He was dead serious every time. Still, you refused to show he could intimidate you.
Like right now, or… at that moment, whatever.
“He’s going to kill you…” Lyla whispered, moving in circles around you.
“He won’t if someone no va de chismosa,” she frowned.
“He’s going to kill us both, y/n,” she almost yelled. Following you to the briefing of a new case.
“He can’t kill you, Lyla. Be serious…” you stated, shrugging.
“I don’t want to know…”
“Me neither. So just shush….” The room was almost empty. Only Peter, Hobie, and Jessica were inside.
The sound of the door captured everyone’s attention. Miguel sighed. After that, he stopped talking.
“You’re late….” Of course, he would remark on your irresponsibility.
“Traffic on Venice. What can I say, handsome?” he rolled his eyes and indicated you sit down.
Earth-238, neon venom, evacuated civilians, blah blah blah. The mission would be easy, and you’d be leaving the room.
“not you, y/n….” Miguel’s voice caught you off guard. When you turned around, Lyla was still whispering to him.
“Bitch…” you whispered.
“Hey, I’ll wait for you,” Hobie said, indicating that he would wait outside the room.
You nodded at him, smiling as he left.
“Why did you send the evidence of last week’s mission to Jessica instead of me?” He asked, arms crossed.
“She’s also my boss,” you admitted, avoiding his judgemental brows and gaze.
“I’m in charge. She’s second in command. So?…” you pinched your nose, anxiety creeping over.
“I-…” It was useless; you had to be honest.
“Because uh-, I didn’t want you to see the anomaly recording” he was right. He knew you would be afraid of his reaction. Something inside switched to be softer.
“I almost killed that girl. It was an accident, but… I can’t control this new ability. And I want to do a good job” Your anxiety was evident. Miguel had to suppress a smile.
“You have a big responsibility on your shoulders. The power to retain or doom canon” a lecture was coming. And you wished he wore his mask because you could see his whole features. Making it prone to capture any negativity from him.
“And that’s why you must be on missions with me, not Jessica. I’m training you, not her” To be honest, you were surprised.
“You make me nervous all the time. I’m afraid I’ll make something stupid on any of these days, and you’ll send me home” He kind of chuckled, and it made you beyond surprised.
“I thought you were working on the English degree and summer ballet classes.”
“You remember it?” Could your heart beat any faster?. His eyes were deep-fixed on yours, and it was killing you in a good way.
“Madre mía, stop giving me that look. I’m gonna piss myself off from nervousness.”
“Don’t be that of a perfectionist. You’re doing good, kid” The pat on your shoulder made you explode.
Right there, you knew it was over. You had a crush on Miguel O’Hara.
____________________
Was it possible to see everything in pink shades and heart sprinkles? That’s how you were looking at every universe. You were starting your lover era.
“PETER! PETER!” You yelled, running towards the man, heading out of the cafeteria. Most spider people on the headquarters looked at you, but you didn’t care.
“Woah, calm down, girl,” he said with a smile.
“I need to tell you something” he couldn’t describe your excitement but happily took your hand when you pushed him inside an empty conference room.
“I have a crush on Miguel,” you said with an evident blush.
“YOU WHAT?” He asked yelling.
“I know, I know. But… he’s so sweet to me. He said I shouldn’t be nervous about him and that I was doing good. He remembers my career and that I’m doing ballet classes. Oh, and today he opened the door for me TWICE!” You explain excited, pinching your suit, in pearl and iridescent tones with a sparkly spider resting on your chest.
“This is insane. Are you insane, y/n?. We’re talking about Miguel. Our grumpy and snarky boss that gets stressed over the tiniest detail and doesn’t know how to smile” You nodded, rolling your eyes.
“It’s not like he’s the love of my life or destiny, Peter. It’s just a crush….” you tried to convince yourself.
“No, no, no. I disapprove of this. Isn’t he a little older for you?” You sighed.
“Oh, c’mon. MJ is younger than you, Mr. No age gap”
“This is serious, y/n. I’ve known Miguel for a long time. You know what happened to him. I don’t think he’s emotionally ready for this” he was right. But you were confident that this crush wouldn’t be a big issue.
“I know. The least I want to do is hurt him. But once again, it’s just a crush, Peter,” you started coming out of the room. And, like a big coincidence, Miguel was walking through the hallway with Lyla talking to him.
“Hey, is it okay if I go to your office at lunchtime?” you asked the broad man once he was walking near you. He had his mask, that if you stared too long, it was a severe and scary gaze, but he nodded once. Neither you nor Peter noticed Miguel was actually looking at you. Causing him to feel a weird pricking.
“Sure,” with that, he left with the female IA giving you a bad look.
“What?” Peter asked in disbelief once again.
“See? Nothing to worry about, love,” you said,
_____________
“Don’t be so late, mija. There’s no crime tonight for you to take that long,” your grandma told you from the kitchen. You entered the room being greeted by the smell of mole and ponche.
“With this food waiting for me. Yeah, sure, the city can rest a night without me, abuelita,” she giggled as you kissed her cheek.
“I’m just going for a stretch. And maybe a flan for dinner” Your favorite part of the day was starting. So happily, you left the house. AirPods on with your favorite music blasting through them, and it felt like heaven.
Swinging from palm to buildings and watching the crowds of the traffic of LA. Until you were in the Fashion District Downtown. You stopped at your favorite rooftop to see the last minutes of the West Coast sunset.
And it was beautiful. Orange, pink, yellow, purple, blue, and black. Like a firework evaporated in the sky.
The air feels perfect for taking a long breath, and you feel thankful for having a good day.
“Hey..” you nearly fell from the building, but a well-known bright red web caught you in time.
When you turned around, you had Miguel watching you.
“Miguel?. What are you doing here?” The surprise and shock were eating you alive. Maybe an emergency happened, or he exiled you from the Spider Society. Who knows?
“Just checking on you…” lately, he had been more close to you. Giving you a hand on missions, being willing to have more extended conversations, and softer pieces of advice.
“Why?” You ask, arching a brow.
“Last week, you were a little slow…” he hears you giggling, and as he walks closer, he sees you hanging your toes on the edge. He sees your hair freely fly as you laugh. Cute, he thinks.
“I was on my period. We’re good now…” he thanked, wearing the mask because his cheeks were burning.
“Don’t be silly, Miguel. It’s… normal,” you said after he stood there quietly.
“Come, seat with me…” he obeyed, establishing some distance with you, but not too much.
Then he removed his mask, and you confirmed that his hair always looked gorgeous.
“Your universe is interesting,” he said finally.
“We are very fixed; little surprises us. And capitalism is leading us to ruin, but yes... it's interesting” Miguel wasn’t expecting that answer but smiled. Only because you didn’t catch it.
“You are spending too much time with Hobie,” you laughed, nodding.
“Yeah, I’ll take that…” This time, you noticed his smile. And you wanted to keep the moment a little longer.
“Can we talk?”
“We are talking, y/n…” he let out a brief chuckle again.
“No, I know, but…I’m afraid. Of hurting someone in the process of creating a disaster with all of this being an anomaly” For weeks, you tried to avoid the thoughts of insecurity. But this was a good moment because Miguel had been training you, and he was the right and worst person to talk about this.
“And it frustrates me that I don’t understand at all what I am….” you said, covering your face, letting all the intrusive thoughts out. Because even on a good day, anxiety could sneak in.
“Being a spider person means being afraid of many things. Keep in mind that you’ll constantly worry, but it’s part of the job. You don’t sign for it; it just hits you” his words were profound. Enough to soothe some of your panics.
“I wish I could be straight to the point like you….” Miguel was urged to touch your hand or strands of hair that brushed his forearm. But he resisted, only looking at your profile.
“No. It’s good to be honest and worry too.”
“And you’re something bigger than an anomaly. You’re special” Maybe his tone made everything sound softer.
“Well, I don’t feel special,” you admitted. “I feel like an accident. Not meant to be here, but nothing else to do.”
“You don’t need to feel it. I just see it…” when you turned to look at him, it was his soft look that made you realize, you were falling in love with him.
As your smile grew, Miguel completely ignored any thought of fear. He was just feeling, letting his heart warm and reciprocate your smile.
“You have to come and have dinner with my family and me,” you blurted excitedly.
“No.”
“SI!.”
“Por Dios. No, y/n!” He said, rolling his eyes.
“They’re not annoying or nosy, I promise,” you pleaded. He knew there was no problem because they knew you were a spider girl and the Spider Society. But… Mexican families could be nosy when a girl arrived home with a man.
“Please, as a thank you for listening to my bullshit. Por favor, ándale. Di que sí…” he couldn’t say no. He didn’t want to reject you.
“Está bien, pues….”
He smiled again, watching you celebrate as you started balancing between buildings. Soon he followed you, happy to feel the way he was doing.
________________________
The shock on everyone’s faces only increased the more you talked.
Pavitr, Gwen, Hobie, and Peter had their mouths open.
“And then, we went to get a flan for dinner. A kid asked for a selfie with us, and it was so silly,” you narrated.
“When we arrived home, he was so sweet. Only speaking Spanish, and he told mi abuelita I was doing great in job” Peter decided it was time to cover his mouth with one hand. Soon, everyone followed, keeping the shock.
“Dad was slightly judgmental but soon changed his mind because Miguel accepted a beer from him.”
“Oh, and we spent hours in my room” That was enough for Peter.
“WHAT?… EXCUSE ME?”
“NO, PETER!. Jesus… we spent hours in my room because I was explaining to him some of my analysis from literature classes” The color returned to his face. Nodded understanding, and everyone else laughed.
“I can’t believe this. I simply can’t…” Pavitr confessed. “Love can come in strange ways…”
“Who’s talking of love, Pavitr?” Hobie asked playfully.
“Well…” you whispered.
“What else?” Gwen almost jumped, needing to know more. You were starting to like her more.
Once again, both of you were back on a rooftop. It was almost 2:00am.
“I-, I liked this…” Miguel managed to say. Looking down at you, trying to regain his neutral and serious tone and look. But after spending hours with you, it seemed impossible.
“Me too. You were so sweet, and thank you for being so comprehensive” Your excitement didn’t match your words, not that Miguel cared. But he realized you had jumped and grabbed both of his hands. And before you pulled away, he was caressing your knuckles.
“It was nothing…”
“Are you coming tomorrow?” He asked.
“I think I stopped being a half-time employee some time ago…” he nodded, smiling.
“True.”
Hands were still holding. And none of you wanted to break the touch.
“Till tomorrow then….” you said, sad to break the touch but happy for everything that happened that night.
And with that, you saw Miguel opening a portal, and you left.
You accidentally dropped a notebook when you entered your room through the window. Cursing between whispers, you hoped you didn’t wake up your family.
“Te dió un beso?” your grandma asked, opening your room door. You smiled deeply.
“No. But we hold hands for a long time, abuelita.”
“Creo que lo amo….” you admitted, very afraid.
“I think he loves you too,” she said.
“NO - FUCKING - WAY!” Gwen yelled.
“Are you sure you weren’t dreaming of drunk?”
“No, Peter. I only drink in Mexico, and I had a dream of the last episode of The haunting of Hill House I watched” he snorted as if he had heard something incredible. Gwen couldn’t stop taking time to digest the information, Pavitr too, and Hobie was… being Hobie.
“Dude looks nice with her. I heard him laugh the other day,” Hobie stated.
“Me too. And he canceled a meeting to go and train her,” Pavitr added.
“He’s, like, the last person I imagined you would say you had a date with.”
“It wasn’t a date….” you said.
“IT WASN’T A DATE?. Girl, he had dinner with your family, listened to your boring old books for hours, and held your hands for… five or eight minutes?”
“Okay… maybe it unconsciously turned into a date.” They all nodded. Even Mayday seemed to nod.
“Oh, my god… Was it a date?”
_______________________
Peter sighed as he watched you laugh with Hobie.
“… y/n is very happy. Did you two have fun last night?” He asked Miguel once he entered his office.
“I’m not discussing this with you,” the broad man approached to say.
Peter loved you like a sister. He wanted you to be happy and safe.
He trusted Miguel after years of knowing each other. But he wasn’t sure if you two had a bright future.
“I don’t want to discuss this with you either.”
“So?”
“Look, she’s like Mayday’s aunt. I want her to be happy. And you too, man. But… I want you to think… Is it correct?” Miguel stopped looking at the screens.
“We can’t lose her. And I don’t want to see another era of pain and collapse” It hit him.
What was he thinking? Letting all of his feelings take over him. He couldn’t be in love; it wasn’t meant for him.
Your canon was unsure, delicate. And his… was doomed.
He imagined having to see you gone, and he wasn’t ready to find out.
He wasn’t ready to go through that pain again.
“Just think… because maybe it’s meant to be, but-“
“No. You’re right…” Miguel accepted.
Peter grew quiet.
“After y/n leaves tonight. Call the others, except Hobie…”
Miguel made a decision. Losing you was going to save both of you. Or so he thought.
_____
Weird.
The cafeteria was quiet.
Then a piece of your suit ripped off.
And spider-cat was absent!!!
Then, you didn’t see Miguel the day before. When you asked Lyla, she said he was swamped with his job, so you would not make him stressed. Plus, having some space after spending the night together would be great.
“Hey!” You called Hobie when he sat next to you on a bench. He was used to visiting you in your universe. He liked the food and how the people complained about something new daily.
“Something feels weird,” he blurted, tilting his head.
“RIGHT?. I thought I was the only one” he nodded and sighed. That was also weird; Hobie never hesitated to spit the words out.
“What?”
“Yesterday. After you left, Peter called everyone except for me. It seemed weird that just as you left, he called everyone to get a lecture from Miguel,” Another weird thing. Why you and Hobie would be excluded?
“Miguel stopped wasting his time with me, But a meeting without you?” Maybe it wasn’t anything. Perhaps a simple meeting. There had been some occasions where you had not been present.
“Do you wanna go and find why?” you asked playfully. He nodded with a gentle smile.
“Hell yeah…” Both of you left in seconds.
Spending time with Spider-punk was always fun. Hobie made you remember things like; fuck it, just do it.
And he liked spending time with you because of your honesty.
But for the first hour, you didn’t find anyone. Even when the headquarters of the Spider Society were big, you thought it would have been easier.
By the evening, you find yourself eating an empanada, thinking of Miguel. Accepting you started missing him.
“Guys!…” Gwen called you and Hobie. As she walked towards you two, Hobie said something quick.
“Don’t ask anything yet…” you nodded to him.
“We were busy getting scolded by Miguel. But there’s a new mission we need to go to. And he wants all, let’s go….” The punk man and you exchanged looks, not buying Gwen’s words.
You got too carried away, forming possible explanations for her weird behavior. Why you hadn’t seen your friends the day before?. And why you and Hobie were excluded from the last meeting?.
You didn’t even look at Pavitr taking Hobie away.
As soon as you entered the room, Jessica, Peter, and Miguel were inside.
“Where’s Hobie?” He asked.
“He was right here…” Gwen mumbled, looking around, making Miguel sigh tired.
He didn't look at you for the first minutes of the debriefing. The more he ignored your presence, the more your questions emerged.
“Everyone get ready… except for y/n,” he announced with his neutral and cold face.
“Why?”
“You’re going home.”
“WHAT?” you screamed.
At the end of the day, Miguel wasn’t ready for this. But he was doing his best, even if it meant lying to you.
“Your canon is changing, constantly glitching. We can’t risk anything happening. I’m sending you home…” he explained like nothing.
“No, please. You have to stop seeing me as a danger. Look at me as your talisman, like a ghost in the multiverses. If it was something bad, it would’ve happened already” he kept looking straight at the doors, not even moving.
It hurt you that he was still unsure of you, especially after everything he said in your home.
“It’s for the best.”
“Can we talk… In private?” You whispered, taking his forearm. He slowly moved away, making you feel the pain grow.
“There’s nothing to talk about”
“Oh really?. I think we do. What about the other day?”
“It was. All this time, it was. It wasn’t a coincidence that you appeared after someone tried opening portals in your earth,” you gasped in shock.
“I did it for the Spider Society. I needed to know you were not a threat.”
“You said I was special…” he managed to hear you whisper. And it was tearing him.
“You are. But a potential danger too. Which is why I’m sending you home…” you shake your head, fighting the tears rapidly forming in your eyes.
“All of you knew about this?” You asked, looking at Peter, Gwen, and Jessica.
The pregnant woman bowed her head while Gwen looked like she wanted to say something but couldn’t.
“We do this because we care for and want to protect you…”
“Really? This is not what friends do. All you do is lie and lie to me!” you said with a broken voice.
“I’m sorry,” Miguel admitted looking down.
“GOD, STOP LYING” you yelled.
“Tell me I meant nothing to you. Or admit you might be scared of the possibility of falling in love with me….”
“You meant nothing to me. It was all a lie” he broke you. You swore you heard your heart decreasing its heartbeats.
“For one minute, I thought you… loved me back” As he stood there quietly, you started crying.
To everyone’s shock, it was the first time they saw you crying. Gwen tried to reach you, but you stepped back, moving away from all of them.
At the same time, Pavitr and Hobie entered the room.
“Something weird happened. You might want to see this, boss,” Pavitr announced.
“It was dope….” Hobie admitted leaning on the door frame. But stood quiet after watching you crying.
The moment turned uneasy, debating whether to go or stay with you.
“Please, let’s go, and then we’ll talk with tranquility about this,” Peter told you. Giving a look that he wasn’t happy with seeing you cry.
Slowly, you followed them. Ignoring Miguel’s look.
Then you thought, What was the point of following them? If they would send you home after that?.
Anger wasn’t a good feeling, but it was blinding you. All the fantastic facade they sold you of good friends. The months Miguel lied to you. He could have done it differently. But he even dared to agree to have dinner with your family.
He held your hands and made you believe there was a chance.
So you stopped following them and turned to the lower plant of the building.
___________
Your web was tiny, like a baby’s. It glitched a lot, but when Miguel entered with the others, he noticed the glitch was even more aggressive than ever.
There were only two canon moments; you getting bit and joining the Spider Society. But a new one was forming. And from the shiny dot, a new line grew.
“What the hell?” Peter asked in disbelief.
The line started moving until it was connected to another: Miguel’s.
And from that connection, a new canon event was officially established.
You and Miguel were together. Dramatically holding hands and facing each other.
“Holy sh-” Gwen almost said but couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Does this mean…” Jessica started.
“She’s part of your canon,” Peter confirmed.
Miguel was in shock; his eyes remained on what the model displayed. You were really meant for him. He hadn’t need to worry about it ending in disaster. Still, it didn’t soothe him.
“Uh-boss? Our pretty little y/n started a countdown to return home and temporarily block the entrance to her earth,” Lyla announced, appearing beside Miguel. He turned to look at her, worried.
“What?”
“I tried stopping her, but I believe she’s growing her cosmic powers?” the day couldn’t get more complicated for Spider-Man 2099.
“Cosmic powers?” Peter asked, running when Miguel started heading towards the exit.
Lyla, crossed her arms looking at everyone starting running. She couldn’t admit it to anyone. That if your issue wasn’t fixed, something darker could happen. The AI couldn’t throw salt in Miguel’s wound.
“Jessica, send help. Lyla, stop her,” he demanded. Jessica nodded, and Lyla disappeared.
“There’s no spider with cosmic powers. But y/n was a bit between universes. So maybe she has some of them or….”
“Peter shut up!. I just can’t lose her!” If you were Miguel’s destiny, he would do things right. And he regretted setting up all of the secret meetings and lies.
He rushed to get to you faster than anyone. He wasn’t even sure the blocking earth thing worked.
Maybe he was exaggerating, but he was willing to set the alarms so everyone would try to stop him.
If he had waited a day, none of this would’ve happened. But he had understood once that things happened for a reason; canon.
So as fast as he was running, something inside told him it was already late.
Peter and Gwen followed close to him, ready to find you prepared to leave.
The panic finally settled when they entered the dark room, and you were already behind the colorful barrier.
“NO!. Please, y/n” You turned to hear Miguel’s voice calling you.
Your look was empty, but the anger was there. He kept calling for you, but you didn’t say a word.
All of you wanted was to leave. Sleep and forget you were a spider girl. Ease the pain of your broken heart. And accept that no matter if you were the only variant of yourself in all the universes, you were meant to end up without love.
Because when he had you face to face, you were gone.
Confused, you appeared on a random street in Downtown LA. Your suit was ripped, your hair was a mess, and the tears didn’t seem to stop. A wave of cold air hit you, making you shiver and hug yourself.
Feeling broken and in shock, you found yourself stepping on a broken glass bottle. Your left foot instantly started bleeding, making you fall to your knees.
That’s when you no longer held the tears; you just let all the sobs take over.
You shouldn’t have accepted to join the Spider Society; you shouldn’t have pushed your crush for Miguel.
I hate this. I hate this. God, I hate this…
With no more strength, you stood up. And tottering, you started walking towards home.
It was okay; it would be okay.
________________________
Cringe in general? Maybe… part two?
#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara angst#spiderman 2099#atsv#peter b parker#miguel o’hara imagine#accross the spiderverse#miguel o’hara
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Until Eternity.
Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Reader.
Synopsis: Miguel has lost you once before, back on your original Earth. Then lost you again, when he found a reality in which the two of you, and your newfound darling daughter, were finally happy. Now, in one final act of selfishness, he has found you one last time, and he is not going to let you go. Not for the entire Multiverse.
or alternatively
I loved you once, I loved you twice, I loved you in my previous lives.
Genre and Warnings: Angsty with a happy ending, more or less. Miguel has a whole lot of issues, what's new. He is also kind of obsessed. There may be some inaccuracies when it comes to the back story, I'm not 100% sure. Also, Gabriella is described to be the Reader’s and Miguel's daughter, but I steered clear of any implication that she has been birthed by the reader, she could very well be adopted.
A/N: This fic was written while listening to “Until Eternity by Blackbriar” on repeat; for an optimal reading experience, get some earphones on and enjoy!
At the beginning of every story, Spider-Man falls in love. Peter Parker has Mary Jane Watson, Miles Morales has Gwen Stacy, and Miguel O'Hara has you.
And at the end of every story, Spider-Man’s heart is left in pieces. Mary Jane Watson leaves, Gwen Stacy dies, and you…
Miguel doesn't let himself think of you too often, he likes to tell himself it is because he is learning how to move on, to heal, but most days, he simply can't handle your memory. Every reminder of you weighs down on his heart just as much as it keeps him moving forward.
He wishes he could remember you the way you would want, with a smile on his face, and the taste of all the good times on his tongue. And that is how it starts, when he allows himself the chance to look through the pictures of you he collected over the years, it is only when he reaches the end that his heart breaks all over again… when he remembers your deaths. Both of them.
The first time Miguel O’Hara fell in love with you, as it is destined to be, happened on your original Earth, Earth-928. The two of you were young and foolish, him, overly ambitious and with a newly discovered power at his fingertips, and you, content to live your life day by day, enjoying the little things and uncaring of the greater powers at play.
Still, you had fallen for each other and fallen fast. You had known from the moment you met that you would be each other’s forever, and even now, so many years later, Miguel could attest to that truth.
At the time, he had not thought, not even for a second, that you could be taken away from him; had not known it would be the sum of all of his mistakes that would kill you.
In hindsight, the older version of himself, the one who has spent years researching the Canon Events, can tell that it had been obvious. In every version of the story, it is always Spider-Man that brings about his own ruin, and it is always Spider-Man, the mask first, and the man behind it second, that kills the love of his life.
It comes easy now, to think of all the things he could have done differently, to see each and every mistake he has made along the way glaring back at him.
Had he been a more attentive boyfriend, had he realized you were as mortal as anyone else, had he not focused only on his ambitions, maybe that night, you wouldn't have been left to walk home alone in the dark, listening to the voicemail he left you that promised you ‘he would make it up to you’. Had he been a better Hero, he wouldn't have lost sight of his origins, wouldn't have left all the small time criminals to be handled by the police because he had ‘more important fights to take care of’. If he had been cleaning the streets as he had promised himself he would do, then maybe he would have caught that mugger before he shot you. And had he been a better man, he wouldn't have searched all across the city for the man who took you from him, would have taken him to prison instead of killing him with his own hands, wouldn't have dishonored your memory in such a way.
But Miguel had spent too long holding your cold body cradled to his chest, spent too long scrubbing your blood out of his hands, and too long crying against your headstone, pleading to anyone above for a second chance, to care.
Miguel took what little comfort he could get: you died as you had lived, kindly. Your focus, your worry, was on him all throughout your last breaths, not a moment spent caring for your blood staining the pavement. You died pleading for him to keep living his life to the fullest, wiping away his tears with a gentle hand, steady even through the pain you must have been in, even with how much strength every movement required.
“Promise me you'll move on.” you begged him, even when the last thing you'd heard out of him was an empty promise.
And so Miguel lied. He told you that he would never forget you, that had been the truest thing to ever come out of his mouth, and perhaps it was what helped him sell what came next. It was in a shaky breath that he swore he would keep smiling for you, that had been a conscious lie, worth it to see the way your face relaxed, for you to leave in peace.
And yet, in your last moments Miguel realized he had been the one to kill you, and he never knew peace again.
So yes, he could easily admit to all the mistakes he had made, and he had paid for them greatly. When you went, all the joy in the world left with you, and Miguel, who'd been left behind, became a shadow of the man he used to be.
When he discovered a way to travel through the multiverse, his first thought had been to find you, the second one, was a promise to himself that he'd never go looking for you. Not only there was no guarantee that any other version of you would be the you he had lost, there was also the very high probability that where there was a you there would also be another him. He would not mess with your life simply because he could not find a way to live without you, he had to bear the consequences of his own actions, and that was final.
Up until the second time Miguel O’Hara fell in love with you, not that he had ever stopped, on an Earth not your own.
He had only been looking for a quiet place to retire to, which had nothing to do with you, and could not find anywhere to stay for longer than a few months, nowhere felt right, which also had nothing to do with you.
When the lies he tells himself, and you, start piling up, Miguel lies again: when he looks at himself in the mirror and pretends he doesn't hate the man he sees.
It wasn't until he saw himself die that his life clicked back into place, and something felt right again. Now there wasn't only a him without you, but also a you without him.
Coming back home to you, even though your house was much less advanced then it had been, and he couldn't begin to recall a single memory portrayed in the photographs on the walls, even though he was impersonating your newly dead husband and praying to all the gods he could name that you wouldn't notice, and the two of you had had a daughter he had never even met, felt like spring after a never ending winter, like rebirth. The day he saw you again, for the first time since your death, Miguel thought the world to be kind.
Your life together, that Miguel now clinged so tightly to, was great for a time. A fairytale really, the future you had both dreamed of when you were still young and naïve, when you had still been you, and the happiest place in the world was the treehouse in the garden of the home you had grown up in and hoped to pass to your child. When late at night, he allowed himself some confessions, a whisper of a daughter to name Gabriella, and all the things he would teach her.
And even though here your treehouse was never built, and you spoke a little differently than he remembered, your dream remained, and Gabriella, your pride and joy since before she was even born, was alive in your arms.
Of course, to preserve the perfection, both of you had to look the other way more than once, and act as if you could not see the dark, obvious truths.
Miguel refused to even attempt to explain why the husband you had thought you knew everything about, suddenly began waking up screaming every other night, why he had nightmares so dark his chills only went away at daybreak. Why he held you as if you would vanish without a warning, why his eyes seemed unable to ever stray from you for more than a few seconds at a time, why he refused to let you walk alone at night as if the world itself would cave in if you did. Why, when you happily recalled events of your shared past, he didn't chime in as much as he used to, why when Gabriella asked all about how you met, your first kiss and your wedding day, he let you do all the talking; You'd have thought his love was diminishing if he didn't smile through every memory as if the sun itself had blossomed on his lips, if he didn't look at the two of you as if you were the meaning of life given form.
So, it was easy to ignore the paranoia, and the fear in his eyes. The way he seemed to walk cautiously through every action, as if afraid to step on fate's toes, and you could not begin to think of a single reason why he would, why he could not look at you without fearing that one wrong movement could rip all this happiness out of his fists all over again.
Miguel would not allow, if it was the last thing he ever did, all the years spent together you could not remember, and all the memories you had of him he had not lived through, to be a problem. He could learn how to be the Miguel you loved… the one that wasn't Spider-Man.
Until the problem became fate itself.
Unknown to him at the time, breaking the Canon is not a forgivable action. When he had substituted himself to the Miguel of your Earth, he had interfered with destiny itself, and that was one more mistake he'd regret for the rest of his life to add to the already long heavy list.
When the world started crumbling around you, even with all his power, all Miguel could do was hold his family close and hope that he could at least shield you from the disaster. But as usual, his hopes are in vain and his prayers go unanswered, as everything he has ever wanted disappears right in front of his eyes once more.
And exactly like the last time, you prove yourself kind above anything else; kind when you whisper sweet reassurances in Gabriella’s ears, kind when you worry over his well being, kind when all you fear for is your family even when the one closest to fading out of existence is you, and Miguel is perfectly fine. Kinder then he could ever deserve, when even then, you keep looking at him relieved to see him alright.
“It’s going to be alright mis amores, I promise.” And though he means every single shaky word that comes out of his mouth, you look at him with tenderness and resignation in your eyes, as if you knew better, as if you pitied the day he'll realize the truth. But your daughter relaxes slightly in your hold, and the last thing he sees before you disappear is the grateful smile you give him.
Once again, Miguel had lost everything because of himself.
In a twisted way, sometimes he wanders which time was harder: the first time, when he had actually thought himself invincible, when he firmly believed the two of you capable of a happy ever after, what an idiot, or the second time, when he already knew what it felt like to lose you, when he calculated each and every one of his actions to prevent it from happening again, when he had even more to protect then the first time. He could never give himself an answer.
But the truth is, Miguel can't accept what he has lost. Can't accept that it is over, no matter how much he knows you’d want him to. Can't accept that the more he tries to fight fate, the harder his losses hit, the harder it fights back.
Maybe it is the broken promises that hurt the most, each one of them a failure, a reminder that no matter how powerful he becomes and no matter how much he tries, he’ll never be able to keep you by his side. But although Miguel is many things, many of which he is not proud of, he is not a quitter.
He spends most of his time since your death carefully erecting a Spider Society, to help prevent what happened to you, because of him, to happen anywhere else. Because who else other than him could do it? Who else knows the consequences, the destruction, as intimately as him? Who else could shoulder this responsibility better than the man with nothing left to lose?
And although Miguel does try not to think of you too often, you never, not for a second, leave his mind. And neither does the idea of trying again, of doing right by you, this time.
When she figures out what he has been silently planning, Lyla tries to dissuade him the best she can, afraid that if you were to die in his arms one more time, there would be nothing, no part of Miguel left to salvage. He hears none of it.
No matter how much she begs him to see reason, she cannot get him to even think of it before dismissing all of her concerns, and that is when Lyla realizes that the only thing that is keeping Miguel moving forward, that is keeping him together, is the idea of being reunited with you. So she keeps her mouth shut, afraid he might break if she didn’t, and never once stops fearing the day history will repeat itself, and put the final nail in his coffin.
When he finds you again Miguel is at the end of his rope, and it is starting to become plain to see for everyone around him. Keeping the multiverse together pretty much single handedly, no matter the ridiculous amount of spiders he recruits, is all but draining what little life he had left out of him, and the thought of being able to hold you again is the only thing that keeps him from crashing. Every single free second he has, that become less and less the further apart the Multiverse falls, is spent looking for you.
Then Miguel O’Hara falls in love with you one last time, more desperately than he ever has before, and not only your Earth but Destiny itself shake because of it.
This time, much has changed. Miguel is no longer the man you have fallen for time and time again, he is something a little twisted now, something unfamiliar. He is a man weighed down by his losses, and he knows that it will only take you one look at him to realize that, he can only hope you'll be willing to look away once more.
Still, nothing else matters when he finds you; you're all he can think of. He looks at you and his lungs fill with air for the first time since you went.
You are different too, he can tell even from afar, your style is different, the way you carry yourself is different, but most of all, your eyes are much sadder than he remembers and for a second he can't help but wonder if you've lost him too. If this is what you look like when you're the one left behind.
The answer to that question comes quickly. For as much as he wants nothing more in the world than run straight into your arms and never leave again, he makes himself wait long enough to observe. His assumptions were wrong, this Earth's Spider-Man is alive, you aren't alone… although you might as well be.
He should have left, the moment he found out you already had him, he should have left. And he would have, would have left you to your life, keeping his damned claws out of it, would have left this Earth, if with an unsalvageable heart, and never looked back, if only you were happy here. But you aren't, he has seen it.
Had he spent just a little less time watching you, observing, making sure you were content and safe, had he left any sooner, he would have never even known you already had a Miguel. Because your, and that word tastes acidic in his mouth, Miguel is far more content being Spider-Man than he is spending time with you.
In the two weeks Miguel has been… watching over you, your boyfriend, he took the time to check for a ring on either one of your fingers, the pendejo couldn't even bother to marry you, has missed a grand total of four date nights, a frankly uncountable amount of calls, and has made you worry sick in front of the TV watching the news for updates on his health. Miguel’s blood boils just thinking about it, and by the defeated gaze you've been wearing the entire time, this is nothing new.
He doesn't cherish you, that is an obvious truth. He has no idea how much he could lose, has no idea just how much could be ripped away from his fingers, regardless of how good of a Hero he becomes, he doesn't even realize that you are without a shred of doubt the best thing that ever has or ever will happen to him. Miguel has never wanted to punch another version of himself so badly in his entire life.
If something were to happen to you, your Miguel would not find out about it for who knows how long, Hell, he has been watching you for weeks without him noticing, if he were to take you away right now he… Miguel, he would treat you right, he would give you all of his love and attention, every second of his time. You would never be left wanting for anything, least of all him. He knows exactly how important you are, exactly what it feels like when you're taken away and the world caves under him, on top of him, loses all its meaning.
He doesn't let himself think, not even for a moment, that in your original timeline he might have acted the same, just as cold and uncaring. Doesn't want to think that he might have left you sitting all night on a stiff couch, waiting for someone that will never arrive, doesn't want to think that he might have been the cause of the cascades of silent sobs that inevitably follow in the morning, when you're left with broken promises and not even a text to greet you. And most of all he doesn't want to think that you might have loved him anyway, through every slight, unconditionally.
He doesn't want to think of it and so he doesn't, even though it weighs heavy in the back of his mind as he prepares for the mission he has dubbed "your rescue".
The plan is simple, all too easy for him, that has already pretended to be another version of himself before, just to be by your side, always to be by your side. This is nothing but a… tiny inconvenience. He only has to pretend to be your boyfriend, your sorry, changed boyfriend, and convince you to follow him. He'll explain what he can later, once you're settled in the home you used to share in your original dimension that he still lives in.
Things will be rough for a while, he won't pretend otherwise, this change is going to need some time to get used to, but you will be loved, and he will be complete, and whatever it takes it will all work out in the end.
Miguel doesn't think of the ways it ended before, there is no need, he knows better now. This time it will work out because he wouldn't survive if it didn't, because there is nothing, nothing he would not do, nobody he would stop at to keep you alive. And most of all he doesn't think of your baby girl, of the daughter he has lost that you've never even met, soon enough it won't matter anyway. With you in his arms once more, the way it was always meant to be, he will make absolutely sure that you will have all the time in the world to bring Gabriella back.
When he gathers enough courage to enter your apartment, the smell of you that he has missed so dearly hits him in the guts so hard he has to keep himself from doubling over. The tears in his eyes are a little harder to conceal, but he hopes they might play in his favor, as he sees you hurry towards the door with a shout of his name, and he braces himself for your screams. You have every reason to be angry, you don't know any better, if you want to chew him up he will let you without complaint.
Still, the anger never comes. Even though you should want to punch him in the face, and you look like you do, you run to hug him with no hesitation, relieved. There are tears streaming down your face and you're looking at him as if he had stabbed you with his own hands, Miguel’s anger reaches an all time high at the sight. There is no time to find your boyfriend for a… stern talking to, not now that you need him, but his blood won't cool down anytime soon. In the future, he just might come back for a visit.
When he looks at you, his expression is softer than you've ever seen it, even he would know that, and he's holding you with the gentleness and care of a porcelain doll, he has to stop his hands from trembling when he raises them to caress your face. The curve of your nose is slightly different, he notes distractedly. He should have known better than to think you'd let your anger show, he had always been the one to scream and rage, and you had your tears and silent disappointment. He is left wondering which one hurt the other the most, the thought goes away just as fast as it came, he won't let any of this ever happen again.
“Miguel, are you alright?” your voice is soft, tentative, like you know that there's something different, that something has changed, subconsciously you probably do. It's enough to gather Miguel's complete attention, and that must be strange as well.
“Of course querida, forgive me for making you worry.” he hasn't felt this good since the last time he held you.
“I thought you had to stay at work late today.”
“Yes, well, it was about time I came home for a while. I missed you.” you can't begin to imagine how profoundly he means that.
“A while?” you sound so hopeful it breaks his heart, and renews his conviction, he couldn't bear to leave now, not without you.
“I was thinking of… a little vacation of sorts, a lengthy one. To spend some time together, make up for lost time.” then as an afterthought, because of all the things he's done and should apologize for this isn't one of them, he adds “Para mostrarte cuanto lo siento.”
You don't seem to hear the way he sounds a little out of his mind, don't see that what was supposed to be a reassuring smile looks more like a manic grin. He can't find it in himself to care, even though Lyla is here too, and she's looking at him with pity and a hint of badly disguised fear in her eyes. She shouldn't be able to show, or feel, this much emotion yet she does, and he lets her. It's good to see himself reflected into someone else's eyes, even when he blinds himself to it.
When you smile at him as if he'd just handed you the world, happy laughter filling the room that makes Miguel's breath hitch in his throat, he knows he has done the right thing. This time, he'll protect your kindness to his last breath, to anyone else's last breath, you'll never have to part again.
Miguel laughs with you, a sound even he had forgotten, and holds you tight to his chest, as if he could hide you in it and protect you from all harm. All he can think of, as you leave, is that if your Earth were to collapse because of it, right in front of his eyes, at least you'd be safe. At least you'd be safe.
#phantasmagoria and storytelling 🥀#gender neutral reader#gn reader#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#miguel spiderverse#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara fanfiction#spiderman 2099#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara fic#spider verse fanfic#miguel o'hara one shot#miguel o'hara angst#miguel o'hara fluff#miguel x reader
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The Roger to her Jessica.
❤
Hey, Jadey! So heres my Eddie Munson x Female!Reader one shot request for you! Reader is the new girl at Hawkins High & shes super hot, like Victoria's Secret Super Model hot! Naturally all of the popular guys (aka Steve, Billy, & Jason) at Hawkins are trying to get her to go out with them, but she's very much not interested in them.
Because none of them are her Type... Until she sees Eddie 'The Freak' Munson; turns out she into the 'Rockstar' thing...
Also, because Munson looks like a younger Eddie Van Halen, she's instantly zeroing in on him. Basically Reader is Jessica Rabbit & Eddie Munson is her Roger Rabbit!
Requested by @m00nlight101
Warnings; slightly suggestive, fluff, the reader is smitten with Eddie and vice versa.
The guys in Hawkins were all the same. Being the new girl in a small town she was immediately the star attraction.
They took one look at her and suddenly she was the most sought out girl in town.
Even before school started officially she was approached by guys.
Billy Hargrove was the first to ask her on a date but she had heard enough shit about him to immediately shut him down.
He was hot but she wasn't getting involved with him, he had graduated Hawkins High and worked as a lifeguard in the community pool, he was also a hit with her mother's friends, clearly loving the older women and according to his sister Max a violent bully.
She was definitely steering clear of that one.
Steve Harrington was the next one to approach her and try to get a date. Now he was very handsome but still not her type.
Plus she was sure he was still making eyes at the girl Nancy Wheeler so she didn't want to get involved in that.
They met at Family Video when she was picking some movies for her Saturday movie night, Nancy was there too and while he was making eyes at y/n he was also pining after Nancy.
So he was a pass too.
Then finally when school started Jason Carver set his sights on her before she even sat down for her first class.
The guy was arrogant, cocky and a douche, he loved himself a little too much and those cringy inspirational speeches he did made her want to vomit.
The kicker though was that he already had a girlfriend. What a sleazeball. She wasn't stealing some girl's man.
"You know I'm the most popular guy in school right?". He leans into her and she raises an eyebrow moving away from him invading her personal space.
"Yeah, that's cool and all but I really don't give a shit about popularity. Also, you're not my type and I know you have a girlfriend so you hitting on me is gross".
He looked furious but she ignores him and carries on with her work wondering if she would meet anyone who was her type.
Jason pipes up again.
"You seriously expect me to believe you care I have a girlfriend?". Anger burns in her gut. She's fed up with men assuming things about her because she looks a certain way.
"Yes, I do very much care. Congratulations you're officially the worst guy I've met here".
Jason looks affronted and she turns away from him still pissed.
At lunch, she walks into the cafeteria and Chrissy and a few other cheerleaders call her over to sit.
She scans the crowd at lunch and her heart flutters as she spots the most gorgeous guy she's ever seen.
The curly brown hair, the leather jacket and the denim vest combo? She's smitten. He looks like Eddie Van Halen. There are major similarities.
Now this guy? This guy was her type.
What's Hellfire about she wonders as she stares at his t-shirt. The other boys sitting with him are wearing it too.
Stacy one of the cheerleaders she's sitting with snorts as she follows her gaze.
"That's the freak's table, they play this game called Dungeons and dragons or some shit. Eddie Munson the leader, the one sitting at the head of the table is the biggest freak of all, stay well clear".
Bitch. She thinks in her head and turns back to him. Noticing the guitar picks and chains too she sighs.
Oh yeah, Eddie Munson, you are fucking hot, ignoring Stacey's laughter she gets up and walks over to him. The group of guys he's with gawk at her as she approaches the table.
"Hi, I'm y/n and you Eddie Munson are exactly the type of man I've been looking for". He quirks an eyebrow and smirks.
"Yeah? Why's that princess? Move". He orders one of the guys next to him and he pulls out the empty seat for her.
"Such a gentleman". She coos and smiles at seeing him up close. His eyes are beautiful, big and a gorgeous shade of brown and those dimples when he smiled? Swoon. Surely he was aware of how hot he was?
"Well, I have all these boys wanting to date me and they are cute yes but not my type, you, however, are the sexiest man I've ever seen darling and I very much want you all to myself". She bats her eyes at him and his widen.
"Jesus H Christ, I'm dreaming right?". He whispers to the others and they gawk at her.
She's distracted by the tattoos on his arm, the visible one peeking out of his Hellfire top and waves of desire crash over her.
Lord help her this man was perfect.
"Are you free tonight handsome?". He shakes his head looking disappointed.
"I have practice with my band tonight but you're welcome to come, princess?".
Perfect.
"I'd love to, she murmurs, you play the guitar I presume?". He nods and she's delighted.
"Will you teach me how to play Eddie? I'd just love to see how talented those fingers are". Lust flickers in his eyes and she just realised how it could be taken and feels flustered.
"I'd love to show you just how talented I am sweetheart". The bell rings and she huffs disappointed and stands up.
She leans down and kisses his cheek, resting her hand on his shoulder. Her Scarlett red lipstick leaves an imprint of her lips on his cheek.
"Until later". She winks at him and is well aware of how his eyes trail down her body as she gets up.
Loving his attention she walks out of the cafeteria slowly making sure he savours every inch of her.
When she looks back at him his eyes are burning with need.
Don't worry darling she thinks and blows him a kiss. I'll drive you wild later...
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie munson#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x y/n
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A Lil' Bit Special
The upcoming holiday has you feeling brave, so you decide to take a change.
Fontaine x black reader
warnings: long-fic, bad attempts at seduction and flirting, cursing, smoking, rambling and my horrid attempts at writing humor lol
::::
It was one of those days in autumn where it was just pleasant enough to hang outside. The sun was strong through the few clouds that grazed the sky, the breeze more cool than crisp.
Stacy decided that you needed to "get out more" so it somehow led to her low-key kidnapping you. Apparently there was a kickback happening with "a few friends already coming".
"It'll get you all ready to play hostess later on, trust me." Stacy offered as an excuse to your rolling eyes.
Wasn't long before you were parked, you two leaving the car to meet up with the rest of your girls.
It definitely became worth it when you saw a familiar Gran Prix not too far away.
You were playing the long game, but this was a beautiful opportunity.
To the knowing smiles and grins from your friends, you pardoned yourself to begin walking over to Fontaine's car.
You faltered when you were close enough to see him speaking with someone bent through the passenger window.
You weren't brave enough to have an audience. Another time then.
'Another time, then.' You thought, turning to retreat to retreat when you heard the soft bop of a horn.
Fontaine crooked his finger for you to come over and you huffed to hide the smile creeping on your face as you did.
"Huh, so you're honking at me like I'm some sort of peasant?"
"My bad, Lil'Bit, my bad. It looked like you wanted to talk to me about somethin'."
Your face warmed at his nickname for you, "I do, actually! Real quick, I know you're busy an' all that. I didn't want to interrupt."
Fontaine smacked his lips and gestured to the passenger seat.
"C'mon in here and talk to me, don' be standing out there."
Your heart squealed but you played it cool, "Can't do that--I'm hangin' with the ladies right now, but I do need you to say 'yes' to something."
He huffed a laugh, "And what's that?"
You leaned into the car a bit through the driver side window, propped onto your elbows and wore your best smile.
"I'm here to invite you to my Friendsgiving soiree later this week."
Fontaine paused, eyes going a bit narrow, "Friendsgiving?"
The butterflies returned under his scrutiny but you busied yourself, reaching out to run your index finger along the ridges of his steering wheel's grip. As far as your finger could reach before going back tracking on the opposite side.
"I don't have any family here, so I host one for all my people that can come through. ."
When you looked up, you saw he was watching your fidgeting with rapt attention.
"I would like to see you there. Big Moss too, if you can bring 'em. Anyone really--there's going to be enough to feed an army."
This was a bit of a risk for you. After all, he could consider you more of a familiar customer if anything.
You could have the vibes all wrong. Misread the looks, the small but thoughtful gestures. The few but pleasurable conversations they've had thus far...
You watched his eyes slide from your fingers and up to meet yours, the most expressive pair of eyes you've seen, your favorite part of that man.
"Yes."
You couldn't help but to smile. You were down bad but if there was a chance that Fontaine would like to join you, fuck it. You wanted to burrow in that.
"Wonderful! Bring anything you like, but it's not mandatory or nothing." You spotted a dude walking up through the passenger side window and straightened.
"I'll see you later, 'Taine, yeah?"
He nodded and when you turned to make your way to your friends, you could feel them warming your back.
::::
You spent the rest of the week getting ready to host. You did all of the prep and cooking of the essential sides, just in case plans changed. You would rather have too much food to end up giving away rather than too little to share.
When thanksgiving finally rolled around, you allowed yourself to get swept up in the festivities.
There was a lot of food. Friends who couldn't make it sent forward a dish to be shared the next day. Coworkers who came through to get something on their stomachs before going to the company's booze-only party.
Neighbors who lingered and played a few hands of Spades, bringing fruits and plants as gifts. There were drinks and smoke flowing with the easy togetherness that you were grateful for.
You were in a bit of a difficult standing with your family at the moment. A lot of silences, hesitant texts. It just needed some work, when you were ready to do it. Until then, you still reached out to the fam to let them know you were still thinking of them.
The evening came and your core crew began dispersing. You felt floating and full yourself, tipsy from the good time you've been having since the afternoon. Your apron was filled with messes and you long ago slipped on your slippers.
While farewells happened in the front room, you went into the kitchen to make a few to-go plates and map out exactly how all the left over were going to fit in your fridge.
"You wasn't fuckin' around, Lil'Bit."
Startling, you looked over your shoulder and saw Fontaine standing there with a few bags in hand. You felt your face flame, knowing how much of a mess you looked.
"You're here already?" You checked the time on your phone, "Of course you are, you'd said you'd be a little later. Sit, sit. I'll make you a plate."
"I ain't trippin', I can make it--"
You turned, walking right up to Fontaine and for some reason found yourself grabbing the zipper of his jacket.
"I'm glad you're here, Fontaine. Show me what you brought while I make your plate."
Silently, Fontaine put the bags on the island. Putting the assorted fruit platter and wine bottle onto the kitchen counter.
Bless his heart, he brought paper plates and plastic silverware too. You cooed, grabbing the big count of assorted utensils and immediately tearing into them.
Before long, Fontaine was leaning against your fridge with a hefty plate as you returned to the to-go plates.
"Is 'Moss with you?" You just remembered with a jolt.
Fontaine hummed a positive, "Out there talkin' to Stacy."
You laughed a bit, making an extra plate. With the finished plates, you went to the front room to pass them out. You greeted Big Moss and wished safe travels to your departing friends.
There was only Big Moss, Stacy, yourself, Fontaine. You should have stayed in the front to get Stacey to put away her pretty little eyes, less she get involved in the whirlwind of Big Moss and his baby mama--but...
You switched on your radio and lowered it, asking them if they needed anything.
"Girl, sit yo' tail down." Stacy admonished, shuffling a deck of cards while Moss poured something for them both, "You've been standing all day. Eat something too, while you're at it!"
"Eek, alright, you can't fuss at me in my house!"
Stacy made a show of narrowing her eyes and you hightailed it out of there. You took one of the stools with you, plopping it next to the one already pulled to the island.
Fontaine was rolling a blunt next to his plate. When you finally took a seat, you took a deep sigh. The kitchen would have to wait until morning, you would put all the food away the best you can.
'A happy trouble.' you told yourself as you took in the spread on the island.
A bunt being set in front of you brought you out of your head. Fontaine rounded the island to take a seat on the stool before you. Taking out the lighter in your apron, you fired up in one flame.
"My bad for comin' so late. Big Moss' Mama roped us into cleaning up after her and her gang."
"Her...gang?"
You passed the blunt to him as he nodded, "Somethin' about a knitting circle potluck. I ain't even sure, but she was laughing...so..."
He shrugged but you understood. So long as Mama Moss was having a good time, it didn't matter what she needed.
"Not the Mama Moss Gang." You giggled at the image of Fontaine and Big Moss chaperoning knitters going wild.
He grinned, chuckling a bit. You both fell into easy conversation, comfortable and familiar as you passed the blunt back and forth.
In the background you heard Stacy and Big Moss talking shit and a Lauryn Hill song played. Fontaine glowed in the low light of single kitchen light.
"You want somethin' sweet?" You asked him, your appetite perking up. Fontaine made a low noise, considering?
He tamped out the blunt, "Whatchu got sweet, Lil'Bit?"
"Ugh, I demand a new nickname." You leaned over to grab the top of the cake container settled in the middle of the chaos, "How'd you feel about pound cake? I made the frosting too."
You didn't wait for his response. You cut two generous slices and put them on the same paper plate.
Fontaine passed you a plastic fork, "Can't do pound cake, I ain't lettin' no one else call you that shit."
You stared at him blankly for a moment before you scoffed, soon trying to smother your laugh into your hand. You stood to pour two glasses of milk,
"Well, I don't like Lil'Bit. It makes me feel like you don't take me seriously."
"I take you serious, 'Bit. Trust an' believe. I'm tryin' not to take you too serious."
"What's that mean, Fontaine?"
He tilted his head and gave you one of those faraway looks that meant he was choosing his next words very carefully. You sliced your cake into little squares and waited.
He reached out and took one of your hands it began to fidget, "That came out crazy. I dig you. I think you're somthin' special. I don't...want to run you off. 'Cause you ain't seen it all yet."
Turning your hand so you'd meet his palm to palm, your stared into his eyes.
"What is it that you think I need to see to make me not want you?"
That was a bit heavy handed, but you couldn't make yourself feel regretful if you tried. Especially when you saw his eyes train onto where you still held hands, not able to say anything.
"I don't mean to force you," You said softly, "I just wanted to let you know how I feel. That I like what you've let me see so far and...I would like to show you more of me too."
His brows rose and you sighed, "Alright, I'm a few double-shots down---Okay? I can't dismantle every innuendo."
You were glad to see his face soften, the hand around yours holding a bit tighter.
"It's all good. I'm looking forward to what we'll show each other next."
He lifted your hand, paused a bit, then pressed a kiss to your knuckles.
He promised to think of a name that would 'better suit you'.
Your heart sang at the nearly bashful look he shot you and suddenly you couldn't wait to see how many nights you could get this man to kiss you over dessert.
You kept yourself present, though. Fontaine seemingly done with words as he turned back to his cake. He was content to hold your hand, rubbing his thumb along your knuckles.
There was still more words to be had, but there was always tomorrow.
This, right now though, was one exciting start.
-----------
notes: PHEW! this one was a longer one. thank you for reading all of this, i just really wanted to write something holiday themed for Fontaine. Any feed back is welcomed!
#fontaine x black reader#they cloned tyrone#soft fic#they cloned tyrone fic#this took so long but i'm so proud lol#i may still edit some things lol
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marvel headcanons
weirdly specific headcanons for my favorite characters,
some traits may not align with canon or popular fan opinions. these are just my opinions, to each their own !!
!! TW: s/h , ptsd , disability , neurodivergence , anxiety , depression , alcohol
Gwen Stacy :
lesbian + non-binary
she/they
has a secret spider-girlfriend
obsessed with pop-tarts and tries them in every universe
spends her free time at the animal shelter petting dogs, the workers from many universes know her since they come by so often, and they always welcome her.
won’t admit it but secretly wants to be an english teacher when she grows up
Peter Parker :
trans ftm + bisexual
he/him
his parents are rich lawyers who travel a lot, so he’s always lived with his Aunt, May. doesn’t have contact with his birth parents
has social anxiety and a severe anxiety disorder
has a soft spot for dalmations
in the process of filing for a psychiatric service dog for his panic attacks
has adhd
Wanda Maximoff :
bisexual with a female preference
has a wife !!!
massive swiftie
has two twins and an adopted daughter
disability mom, billy has angelman syndrome and tommy has autism and epilepsy
in therapy to work on her trauma trigger responses ie. controllingness
has suffered with severe depression
loves loves loves dogs (has two goldendoodles, snowflake and rocky)
Yelena Belova :
queer woman
convert jew, found herself in the religion and found a community through a support group for, and run by, woman in her synagogue.
absolutely in love with Kate Bishop
very protective over kate and shows her off to everyone
has a ptsd service dog named sasha, who helps with her flashbacks
has struggled with s/h, but is in therapy and getting better
has a very sexual relationship with kate and everyone in the compound steers clear of the hallway where kate and yelena’s rooms are
Kate Bishop :
pansexual + demigirl
madly in love with Yelena Belova
super innocent but would do unholy things for her girlfriend
hates all dogs. except her dog, pizza-dog-lucky. lucky is different.
slight mommy issues
bottom asf , and a massive brat
super snarky but easily gets her feelings hurt
was homeschooled her whole life, and she never lost that childish energy
thinks her girlfriend’s protectiveness is cute, but loves to push against it to see yelena get all hot and bothered
always spends the holiday season with clint’s family (partially bec she loves them and partially to save on heating bills in the colder months)
spam posts every detail of her life on insta stories + makes mini-vlog reels 24/7
Natasha Romanoff :
demiromantic + unlabeled
hates labels, she likes who she likes end of story.
has a massive soft spot for cats, and has 3 of her own, Tumeric, Spots, and Dart.
has a massive unrequited crush on wanda
she’s labeled as the “bed-hopper” by her friends for her string of serial hookups after she left the redroom, but she wants nothing more than to settle down with a wife and even more cats.
top
big mommy issues and that usually comes across in her relationships, as she seeks out (sometimes older) people with nurturing qualities.
battled alcoholism during the dark days in the blip from losing her sister, but she has an amazing therapist and is now sober
Kamala Khan :
bisexual
she/they
really into tarot
best friends with America Chaves and has a small gay crush on her
constantly gets in trouble with teachers for being too loud and talking in class
has inattentive adhd and always forgets to take her meds
has a very popular carol danvers x fem reader fanfic on A03 that she hides from her parents but she always neglects her homework to make sure she updates regularly for her readers
loves tacos
has sensory issues and gets sensory overload breakdowns due to sound and this can trigger her powers to go haywire while she’s overstimulated
her family puts a lot of pressure on marriage but she just wants to live in a house with america and spend the rest of their lives together reading fanfic and rewatching avengers movies
she kissed america once and they never talked about it again, though they both have hinted at wanting to do it again.
#kamala khan#gwen stacy#marvel headcanons#spider gwen#ms marvel#doctor strange in the multiverse of madness#scarlet witch#wanda maximoff#peter parker#spiderman#trans spiderman#natasha romanoff#black widow#yelena belova#hawkeye#kate bishop#i actually made this wtf#part two will happen eventually
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Senpai, or how I shall name him, Stephan Lindberg, teen and adult
holy fuck what did i do to him
Anyways
Tagging for toxic fake friendships and manipulation?
He's 17 years old on the left drawing, and 32 on the right. He's 5'8, had an older sister named Stacy (if you recall her then you get a request sketch) who went missing in 2011.
He and Stacy went to the same school as Keith, Cherry, and later Darnell did. Their parents were always busy with work, and the family rarely ever spent time together. Stephan and Stacy at first were good kids, but as they grew older their lack of family bonding led to them spending more time with friends and strangers, and eventually they'd become stuck-up and mischievous. It didn't help that their parents often spoiled them with gifts and money for any sort of occasion either.
At school, Stephan always hated Keith with a passion after the latter started dating his crush Cherry to the point where he went up to fight Keith, who he ultimately lost to. Stephan was outraged, but Keith, out of his goodness, surprised the blonde boy by purposing that he'd prefer they be friends instead of enemies (he heard that Stephan was a well-liked guy by the girls anyways). At first he thought Keith was completely dumb, but Stephan ended up realizing that this guy might have been stupid enough to steer him into relishing trouble as revenge for "taking the girl." Rather than lashing out again, he "accepted" Keith's friendship and later led Keith into believing that they were genuinely good friends.
Much to Stephan's inner irritation, Keith would consider him a close friend as their high school years passed, but this only came in handy for Stephan when he happily manipulated and tricked Keith with challenges and dares, getting him into a lot of trouble and actually getting hurt in some cases. He relished it all for having loss Cherry to the "stupid bloke". Keith never caught on to what was actually going on until much later
Coincidentally, like her brother, Stacy had always had a crush on Keith, and the two siblings both would both argue on what they liked about the other, but eventually came up with ways to help each other in attempt to ruin Keith and Cherry's relationship--which never worked. Similar to her brother's tactics, Stacy befriended Cherry, however for a time she actually considered the brunette to be a good friend. The sentiments didn't last long with her brother's constant complaints though, and she ended up backstabbing Cherry a night before their senior prom, just days after Stephan shows Keith his true mug in the worst way possible. Their glory didn't last long though before Darnell cleared things up in front of the whole school that same prom night, putting both Stephan and Stacy in their places and ruining their social status.
As the years passed afterwards, Stephan and Stacy moved out of town and both went their separate ways traveling across the country with the loads of money their parents continuously gave them to back them up, until the gal went missing out of the blue at 21 years old. Stephan was snapped back into reality, and ended up moving back with his parents, partially distraught by his sister's sudden disappearance. He would stay at home and begin to look back into both his and his sister's life. Eventually, he'd begin to write his own songs and begin to fix himself through lyrics rather than playing with people's lives and relationships.
#I SWEAR ill get a digital drawing of him sometime hsdfgherju#i cant draw anime people God help me#fnf au#fnf#fnf senpai#stephan lindberg#stacy lindberg#traditional drawing#character lore#fake friends#manipulation#tw manipulation#toxic relationship#oh look i unintentionally inverted barbie life in the dreamhouse characters haha what
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the transgenderism of crowley goodomens. like. yeah he's canonically nonbinary/genderfucked like they all are but... oh, something about it all. something about how yes, there used to be an angel who looked like him, who had his hair and his voice and his hands, and yes, that angel seemed very happy as he was, and maybe he wasn't in pain, but he was only happy because he didn't realize he could be anything other than what he was. he was happy because it was expected of him, because all the angels were happy except the ones who weren't and anyway, the beginning hadn't even begun yet, silly things like dissatisfaction hadn't been invented, so why shouldn't he be? why should he even think that his voice could be used to do things like sing, or ask questions, or scream at god? why would the hands that so lovingly hung the stars all in a row ever wield a sword, or steer a car, or dance with people you love?
the angel aziraphale saw at the beginning of everything was all smiles. no wonder he thinks crowley would love to go back to that- he's never seen him smile like that since. the thing is, though, that wasn't crowley, not really. that angel had different hair, different eyes, a different name. do you think anyone remembers that name? does crowley? would it matter if he did? i think it burns to ash on the tongue of whoever tries to speak it. so many do, with crowley. crawlee, which was "not him," according to the book. his demonic "real" name, which, in the book, hastur has to remind him to use on contracts (to which crowley frowns in discomfort and disappointment). even aziraphale was still slipping up and calling him crawlee as late as 1941. "the angel you knew is not me." the snake who changed his name because it was too snakish against the angel who has not had a change of outfit in two hundred years.
anyways what i am getting at here is: angry s3 crowley monologue about how everyone refuses to see him as he is even the ones who claim to love him (aziraphale) ala gwen stacy in atsv. thank you and good night
#good omens#i love him a lot. if you couldn't tell.#he and kris d/ltarune are right there in the category of#trans allegory characters who also just are trans
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A little drawing based on the story "Burns to Smithereens" by EinMondsoldat, Chapter 11: Ossified Opalescence (AO3), it really touched me a lot, acts of affection always do.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/39170115/chapters/100746168
🪻🌸🪻🌸🪻🌸🪻🌸🪻
When they arrived at the restaurant Burns instructed him to carry the package inside. They sat it down on their reserved table. After their orders were taken Smithers asked, "So, what's this?"
Burns clasped his hands together. "It's for you." He blinked. "Me?"
"Who else would it be for? There shall be no gooseberry for this outing. Open it, won't you?"
Smithers hesitated, only because he had one of those peculiar abhorrences to tearing into something that looked so fine. He gripped the package. "Really, sir, you don't have to get me anything. You especially don't have to go all out and get it specially wrapped." The paper really was nice; thick, iridescent lavender. Was that on purpose? Did Burns recognize his favorite color?
"Would you just open it?"
He swallowed his guilt, and tore the paper. His heart skipped a beat. "Oh… Mr. Burns…"
"Is it not to your liking? I'll be damned if I know anything about these things, so I had to inquire from someone who did. If he steered me wrong, I'll-"
"No, no, Monty," he fought back the tears, the lump threatening to form in his throat. "She's perfect ."
And she was, without a doubt, the 1985 Elsewhere Convention Exclusive Malibu Stacy, of which fifty units were ever made. To even see one with one's own eyes was incredible, to touch one even more so. He trailed his fingers over the mint box, gazing at the pretty plastic lady within; the material holy grail of Waylon Smithers.
"I don't even know what to say, Monty. I'm… this… this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you."
But worth more than a thousand 1985 Elsewhere Convention Exclusive Malibu Stacys was Burns' genuine, fully displayed, elated smile. "You see, I do pay attention."
"Without a doubt, sir."
#the simpsons#simpsons#burns#burns x smithers#waylon smithers#charles montgomery burns#burns Simpsons#the Simpsons fanart#Simpsons fanart#burns fanart#ao3#fanart#fox#Disney#lgbt#gay#Stacy malibu#doll#romance#IbisPaint-x#ibispaintx#Spotify#pride icons#pride month#biseuxal#fanfic
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Long Ass Road
Summary: Kennedy wants to go on a road trip, Claire wants to go skating, they both agree Canada is the only logical option.
Warnings: swearing, suggestive themes
Authors Note: I'M SENDING THOSE LESBIANS TO CANADA FOLKS, they aren't actually in Canada though, this is just the road trip portion. crenny fans that are lesbians, come get your juice, if I'm still holding on for the free day I might actually put them in Canada. hope ya'll enjoy
"Are we there yet?"
The inevitable question, and you know what, Claire is proud of Kenny for waiting six hours into their road trip to ask it.
"No, Kennedy, we are not in Canada," Claire answered with as calmly as she could, her grip on the steering wheel tightening a bit.
"You know what would make this trip better?" Kenny asked as she sat up in the passenger seat a bit more. She briefly glanced to the back of their van, stowaway seats stowed away, a mattress lay on the ground with their stuff piled in a corner.
Claire took a turnoff to a stray road, a quieter one, "What?"
"If we had dicks," The abruptness throws Claire from her focus entirely.
"And why would that make this road trip better?" Her words come out with shock laid on thick, and the road is quiet enough she can turn to just stare at Kenny.
The blonde shrugged, "Road head."
"You have playboys, you can hop in the back and hope we don't get pulled over if you're horny," Claire offered, "I don't want you getting off in the front seat."
"I was joking," Kenny said as she leaned forward onto the dashboard, "Unless..." She reaches over to place her hand on Claire's thigh.
The ravenette swats away Kenny's hand, "There will be no fucking until we cross the border."
There's a loud groan, "You are zero fun, can we at least sleep in a skeezy motel and get room service?"
"Dude," Claire said in an exasperated tone, "No, we agreed to sleep in the trunk to save money."
"Why did we decide on that?" Kenny asked as she slumped back against her chair and pressed her feet to the dashboard.
"Cause we're fucking broke," Claire said, "And we want to have enough money to be able to buy something from Canada while we're there."
"How long is the trip anyways?" She pulled out her phone to check the time. A picture of her, Kylie, Cartman, and Stacy was her lock screen. Claire may be the love of her life, but she will always hold room for the homies above all else.
"We're a quarter of the way through," Claire answered with mere moments before laying onto the horn. She swung her head out the window to glare at whoever decided to swing in front of them, "Watch the road jackass!"
Kenny just sighed dreamily, "You're hot when you tell people off."
"Thanks," Claire answered with before simply flooring it, "We should've started the trip sooner."
"Why?" Kenny asked.
"Cause we're gonna be sleeping in our car, in America," Claire said with a groan of annoyance.
Kenny shrugged, "Might be nice."
"I doubt it," Claire said.
-/-/-/-
"You were right Kenny," Claire said as she tossed aside the wrapper for her burger and leaned on the cushions propped against the sliding door.
"About what?" Kenny asked as she nibbled on some fries and pushed herself against Claire, an arm slung around her shoulders.
"Sleeping in the van," Claire said, "Or just, being in the van, with you, it's nice."
Kenny gives a hum as she reaches for the blanket, "Yeah, it is."
"What do you think about the road so far?" Claire asked.
"It's a long ass road," Kenny answered with.
Claire laughs, it's a giggle snort that Kenny knows she's self conscious of, "Well, yeah."
"How long is this trip anyways?" Kenny asked.
"Twenty four hours total, we got eighteen or so left," Claire said as she rubbed Kenny's upper arm.
The blonde whines, "Seriously?"
"That's just part of the fun," Claire said, pressing a kiss to the mussed locks of blonde.
"I can't wait till we get there, play ice hockey, get Tim Hortons, have some fun," Kenny said.
"And not get attacked by geese," Claire tacked on, "That would suck."
-/-/-/-
When Kenny wakes up the car is moving and Claire is already in the drivers seat. Eyes locked on the road and firmly set on her task of inching forward in gridlock traffic.
Kenny gives a long whine as she rolls over to the other side of the van, crashing against their backpacks and curled in a blanket.
"Kenny, you're awake," Claire said as she looked up to the rear view mirror to glance at Kenny.
"Barely," She answered with as she sat up and crawled closer to the front, "Can I have some coffee?"
"Go for it," Claire said, "We won't be moving for a while."
Kenny took a swig of the brew, she furrowed her brows in dismay, no sugar. She dropped back down to the mattress, "This sucks."
Claire shrugged, "It happens," She sat up a bit more, "Oh wow, crash."
"A pile up?" Kenny asked groggily, sitting up as she spoke.
"It's pretty smoky, I'd say at least three cars," Claire answered with, "Couple hours till shit starts moving."
"Then come back here and make love to me," Kenny whined rather playfully.
"No. Traffic could clear up and I do not want someone to look in through the window and see my ass," Claire said as she gave Kenny a gentle glare.
"Fucking, fine, be that way," Kenny huffed out before climbing into the passenger seat, "How long have you been on the road for?"
"Couple hours, glad you slept love," She leaned over to press a kiss to the tip of Kenny's nose.
"Thanks for driving," Kenny answered with as she returned the motion.
#crennyweek2023#sp crenny#craig x kenny#kenny mccormick#craig tucker#south park#south park fanfiction#writing#fanfic
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First and Last Lines
rules: post the first and last lines of the last 10 fics you posted.
Tagged by @homerjacksons. Thanks! Doing this because I'm hoping it gives me some motivation to do some writing. I have been tired lately and entirely unproductive. So, fingers crossed. Note: fics below are finished unless otherwise noted.
Take the Long Way Home (Ashes to Ashes/Ripper Street crossover; Alex Drake/Edmund Reid) WIP, so these are the first/last lines of the first chapter.
First line: “Am I under arrest?”
Last line: “Another drink?”
2. Sweetheart From Another Life (Ripper Street; Edmund Reid/Emily Reid) WIP, one more chapter left to write. I should really get on that.
Edmund sat in a hard, straight-backed chair, still but for the erratic tap tap-tap of his foot.
And a man who would come to be known as Jack hit the pale face of a young whore until it was red-raw.
3. Magic Bus (House MD; Gen)
"You're dead," House said, voice flat, matter-of-fact.
Then, with a shake of his head, House stepped off the bus.
4. Eden Sank to Grief (House MD; House/Stacy)
“How did you beat me home?”
She felt her heart lurch as Greg peered over his shoulder to meet her eyes before the nurse steered him around a corner and took him away from her.
5. And They Lived (Ripper Street; Edmund Reid/Jane Cobden) Part I complete; Part II WIP.
Edmund had written difficult letters in his life, but none harder than this.
Toward their future and their home.
6. For the Lads and Lasses (Ted Lasso; Keeley Jones/Roy Kent, Jaime Tartt)
The sign made him say it.
Oh, fuck yes.
7. Off the Record (Ted Lasso; Trent Crimm, Ted Lasso)
Trent Crimm (formerly of The Independent) sat on the bright, yellow-green lawn of the Tom Quad, Christ Church, Oxford, late in the afternoon.
With a little smile, Ted said, “I’ll take that as a yes,” and nudged him toward the podium.
8. A New One (Ted Lasso; Keeley Jones/Roy Kent)
Apart from the usual idiocy that came with every standard six-year-old, Phoebe hadn’t been painted with the half-wit brush as much as Roy liked to claim.
Only when he went back to his place did he ring Keeley, with a cup of tea in his hand and his new blankie draped across his lap.
9. Taste Test (Ted Lasso; Gen)
When Ted waltzed his way into Rebecca’s office—and actually waltzed because, first of all, his backpack made a mighty fine dance partner, and, second, he’d felt like dancing ever since they’d eked out a win the other day against Chelsea late in the second half.
Smiling, he shouted over his shoulder, “Y’all are the best! Get ready for a real hootenanny!”
10. Flowers in the Dirt (Ripper Street; Edmund Reid/Jane Cobden)
Before the Yard had exiled Jackson to America--his home, Ed reminded himself; not a punishment, but his home--Jackson had pulled him aside and said, “Look, Reid. Before I leave, I should teach you a thing or two.”
And I smile with her.
Tagging: @casadegatos, @nautilicious, @punkascas, @puffologic, @hondagirll and anyone else who'd enjoy doing this. It was pretty fun.
#ripper street#ted lasso#house md#fic#a little trip down fic memory lane#might be fun to do this with the FIRST fics i posted#anyway#enjoy if you'd like
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hate to love me. | part 2
summary: the growing feelings towards steve were becoming all the more confusing. but when he shows up at your doorstep, do you have the heart to turn him away?
read part one here.
a/n: omg this took so long i’m so sorry <\3 retail is kicking my arse and i’m working every day until christmas :,( but i think i will most definitely do a part 3 with s3 i’ve got some lovely ideas
fembyers!reader x steve harrington, enemies!tolovers (ish)
taglist: @lokiofasgard616 @ihatepeanutss @bytchis-world @reasontobebeautiful @freezaz123 @ladybug0095 @thrown-off-her-rhythm @chaerfull @eris-rose-86 @manyfandomsfanvergent @nyenye @sagelittleplace @mrskeery-mclaughlin @quixscentsposts
steve’s car crunches up your gravel driveway, slightly earlier than usual, on monday morning.
he sounds the horn, as he usually does, and sits and waits for you to stumble out of the front door, like you usually do.
but you don’t.
jonathan peers out of the door before sighing and walking over to steve’s car.
‘she got the bus this morning,’ he notes, ignoring the awkwardness of the entire situation.
‘oh.. i’ve been calling all weekend, but she didn’t.. uh, thanks man,’ steve nods, looking down at his steering wheel.
‘i don’t know what happened.. or what you did, but she’s been holed up in her room all weekend.. you need to fix this,’ jonathan spits, hand leaning on the roof of steve’s car.
he nods, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek, understanding jonathan perfectly.
‘i swear to god, if this is some elaborate prank or revenge for what happened between us.. i’ll fucking kill you,’ jonathan threatens, standing up straight and walking back into the house.
steve exhales, running his hand along his face and through his hair before pulling off, hoping to at least catch you before school.
the bus is already empty when he shows up, a shower of school kids making it impossible to find you.
you shared one class with steve and even then you sat on opposite sides of the classroom, there was no way he would be able to talk to you there.
he scans the parking lot, recognising a girl he’d sometimes spot you walking in the halls with and jumps out of his car, bounding up to her.
‘have you seen y/n?’ he startles the poor girl, who in turn furrows her brows back at him.
‘jesus.. no, not yet, why do you care?’ she looks him up and down, judging his entire being. you had definitely told her about his antics at the party, causing the foul look on her face.
‘i need to speak to her,’ he declares, now searching the moving crowd.
‘well i don’t think she wants to speak to you,’ she hisses, walking away from him and into the building.
steve bites the inside of his cheek before walking into the school, still in search of you.
it’s impossible. you’re not anywhere.
the bell rings and steve begrudgingly heads to his first class, annoyed that he now won’t see you until last period.
he sits in class with his chin resting in his hand, unsure of what he would even say to you.
his mind is somewhere else for the entire day. at lunch, stacy attempts to speak to him.
‘where’d you get to on friday? no one could find you,’ she nudges him with her elbow.
‘hmm? i went home, wasn’t feeling it,’ he mumbles, eyes scanning the crowd for your familiar grey sweatshirt.
the thing is, partly due to his inescapable gang of bully’s, you’d learnt how to blend into the crowd, how to go completely unnoticed at school so people would leave you alone.
‘harrington not feeling a party? what the hell’s wrong with you?’ she jokes, only to be met with a small exhale from steve.
she snaps her fingers in front of his face, ‘hellooo, earth to steve.’
he turns to look at her, frowning.
‘are you okay?’
‘yeah i’m fine.. i’m gonna go get some homework done, i’ll see you later,’ he announces before standing from the table and swiftly walking out of the bustling cafeteria.
the group turn to watch him leave, puzzled as to what was going on with their friend.
one of the other girls leans across the table to stacy, ‘y’know i saw him going into the bathroom with that byers girl at the party.. maybe something’s going on between them,’ she shrugs.
stacy just shakes her head, furrowing her brow.
steve heads straight to the library, looking at each and every table for you, to no avail.
he was getting frustrated now, hawkins high was not that big, how could you possibly be evading him so well?
the bell eventually dings and he trundles along to his next class, now only one period away from you.
it goes painstakingly slow, mr browns sentences coming out even slower than usual.
finally.
last period.
steve absolutely barrels through the hallway, wanting to grab the desk next to yours before anyone else could.
his eyes immediately clocks your infamous sweatshirt and collapses into the empty desk next to you, apologising to the unsuspecting kid who had slid his bag onto the wood.
you don’t even look up, carrying on- pretending to read the book in front of you, jaw tense as you feel his eyes boring into you.
he leans over and whispers, ‘please talk to me.’
nothing. not even a twitch.
mrs cooper walks into the classroom, loudly clearing her throat before beginning her boring spiel about finals and how close they were.
you sigh, unsure if you could go the whole class with steve’s big brown eyes staring into you.
out of the corner of your eye you can see him scribble something down and then tearing the scrap of paper out of his book before sliding it onto your desk.
you glance down at the paper:
please just speak to me was messily scrawled in big letters.
you look back up to the board, disregarding his message, earning a large sigh from the boy next to you.
-
the bell rings to signal the end of the day and you attempt to pack your things up quicker than steve can but you’re beaten, he’s already stood at your desk before you can finish.
sighing again, his blue jeans in your peripheral as you shove your book into your bag and placing it onto the desk before standing, still avoiding any and all eye contact.
‘all i’m asking for is five minutes,’ he grabs your backpack, swinging it over his shoulder.
for the first time today you look up at him, stern faced at his antics, ‘can i have my bag back?’
‘if you promise to talk to me.. just let me explain myself,’ he wants to smile at finally getting you to actually respond, but decides against it, afraid that you’d actually punch him.
‘okay, go ahead,’ you cross your arms over your chest.
‘not here,’ he turns to leave, ‘c’mon.’
you’re reluctant to follow him but do anyway, still frowning at the stupidity of this entire situation.
what did he even have to say to you?
you picture him screaming, ‘you’ve just been pranked!’ with his friends all laughing in the background, an over the top film crew all gathered round to watch.
he walks out of the school and to his car, still holding your bag hostage and opening the passenger door for you, ‘get in.’
‘steve, i’m gonna miss the bus,’ you huff, turning to watch the students pile onto the bus.
‘i’ll give you a ride,’ he utters, motioning for you to get in.
‘i don’t want a ride, thanks,’ you attain, becoming more and more irritated with him.
he looks up, watching the bus pull off out of the parking lot, ‘too late, guess you’ll have to get in.’
‘you’re despicable,’ you exclaim, garnering the attention of nearby students.
‘just get in,’ he opens the passenger door, slinging your bag onto the back seat.
you oblige, huffing as you sit down in the seat.
he gets in the drivers side, gripping onto the steering wheel before starting the car and pulling off.
it’s silent at first, despite having all day to think of what he was going to say to you, he was still speechless.
‘why’d you run off?’ he breaks the silence, staring at the road ahead.
‘i wanted to go home,’ it’s not exactly a lie, but most definitely isn’t the whole truth.
‘i’m sorry.. for freaking you out.. i shouldn’t have..’ he trails off.
you turn your head to look out of the window, not wanting this conversation to progress any further.
he sighs, ‘can you just speak to me?’
‘i don’t know what you want me to say,’ and suddenly everything jonathan had said echoes in your ears and you can feel the anger rising in your throat, ‘i don’t want to be a part of your fucking prank.. or.. or whatever elaborate revenge plan you have for nancy, count me out.’
‘what? what are you talking about?’ he looks between you and the road, puzzled.
‘oh come on, why else are you suddenly interested in being my friend? you think i’m stupid?’ you spit.
‘because.. because i like you! i’m sorry- what the fuck does this have to do with nancy?’ he questions, knuckles turning white with pressure.
‘your girlfriend dumps you for my brother and i don’t know how your small brain works, but you thought you could get your revenge on him with his sister but i’m not letting you,’ your hands fly up in rage.
‘w-what?!’ he exclaims, hitting his hand on the leather wheel, ‘i don’t care about your brother or nancy, who do you think i am?’
‘i think you’re the same asshole that bullied me for years!’ you shake your head, ‘i haven’t forgotten, i know just how cruel you are, steve.’
the words are sharp, his mouth falls open in shock that the last few months of your friendship meant so little to you.
‘that’s not.. me,’ he mumbles, ‘not anymore.’
‘yes it is,’ you quickly wipe the warm tears from your eyes, not wanting to let him see how he was affecting you.
his mouth opens and closes, unable to find the correct string of words.
you turn back to the window, pressing your forehead against the glass and sighing.
he pulls onto the familiar drive, blinking as your house grows closer.
you reach into the back, grabbing your bag and placing it onto your lap, ‘i don’t want to be your friend, steve, just leave me alone.’
he stops the car, jaw tense as you leave the car, slamming the door shut and storming into your house.
you hadn’t meant a word you said. you wanted nothing more than to be friends with steve, for him to kiss you so tenderly again.
but god forbid letting him hurt you before you could hurt him.
-
the week is excruciatingly long, you can just feel steve’s eyes boring holes into the back of your head.
jonathan tries his hardest to try and support you but he can’t help but feel almost smug, as if he didn’t warn you steve was a dickhead.
your mom knows the exact remedy to asshole boys, but she’s still ultimately clueless on how to deal with her children facing boy troubles. she’s grateful that she’s not had to deal with it until now but she’s at a loss of what to say. how often does your sons-girlfriends-ex-boyfriend upset your daughter? not very, she’ll tell you that.
though, she does her best as you trundle through the week. purposely evading all eye contact with steve, sitting outside to eat lunch and getting to your one shared class late enough that your seat options were far, far away from him.
you miss his voice, his stupid little jokes that you would hate yourself for laughing at. but you refuse to admit that to yourself, or your friends for that matter. assuring them that the reason you were avoiding the cafeteria was that the weather was so lovely, it’d be a shame to sit inside.
not one of them believed you, christ, you didn’t even believe yourself.
the days are so long, boring without your twice-a-day rendezvous with steve.
but at some point it reaches friday and you’re sat at home, awaiting jonathan’s return so you could go to bed without worry.
there’s a short knock at the door and you rush to answer, assuming jonathan had once again forgotten his key.
you’d expected him home much later but you just assume he’d got off work early so you weren’t home alone.
swinging open the door and starting on your lecture, ‘jon, you need t-,’
you’re met with a pair of soft brown eyes that you hadn’t seen in weeks, adorning a large blue bruise that most certainly wasn’t there at school.
‘w-what’re you doing here?’ you mumble, clutching onto the wooden door.
‘i don’t know.. i didn’t know where else to go,’ steve coughs, holding onto his rib cage.
‘fuck.. what happened?’ you grab onto his arm, guiding him into your living room and placing him onto the sofa, standing in front of him with your arms across your chest.
you’re unsure if the feeling in your chest is hurt from seeing him in such a state or residual pain from your conversation mere weeks ago.
‘my dad..’ he mutters, leaning back into the cushion.
your heart stops.
all too familiar with the situation, having seen your brother in similar states after fights with your dad. only much younger and more brutal.
‘he.. hit you?’ you carefully sit on the edge of the couch next to him, not wanting to hurt him further.
‘he wanted to.. teach me a lesson,’ he mimics his fathers words, ‘said if i wanted to keep acting like an adult, he’d treat me like one.. all because i was late home last night,’ he leans his head back, still pressing a hand to his side.
you jump up from the sofa, walking into the kitchen and grabbing whatever bag of frozen vegetables from the freezer, offering it out to him.
‘and then he hit you..?’ you frown slightly, watching as he presses the peas to his eye.
‘he shoved me, so i shoved him back and then he swung for me,’ he winces at the cold on his skin.
‘oh, steve..’ you sigh, the guilt from your harsh words weighing on your heart. you hadn’t seen him look so defeated, not even after billy had done worse to his face in this very room not too long ago.
‘you should see him though.. much worse,’ he looks up at you, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly.
you can’t smile, memories of cleaning up jonathan’s bloodied face flood back and for a split second you feel transported back to that dreadful time.
‘c’mon, let’s get you cleaned up,’ you offer out a hand which he graciously accepts, following you slowly into the bathroom.
you grab the first aid kit from the cabinet and gesture for him to come closer. he leans back against the counter, supported by his bloodied hands either side of his body.
very cautiously you begin to dab at his wounds with the wash cloth, trying to remove the dried blood.
you step one leg in between his, moving closer, ‘this is gonna sting..’ you warn, blotting at the cuts with the peroxide soaked cotton pad.
he winces, knee jerking up and brushing against the inside of your thigh. if you weren’t in such a vulnerable position, it probably would’ve made you blush.
‘sorry..’ he whispers, eyes squeezed shut.
‘almost done,’ your face only inches from his, observing all of his features in a way that hadn’t been possible before.
you throw the waste into the trash and placing a hand on his sweater, ‘can i?’ you look to him, eyes now open and already staring at you.
he nods and you slowly pull the fabric up, letting your eyes wander away from his rib cage before pulling your attention back to the affected area.
‘okay.. just a bruise,’ you reassure, dropping his sweater and meeting his gaze once again.
‘thanks.. for helping me.. and for not slamming the door in my face,’ the eye contact heavy, neither of you wanting to break it.
you smile slightly, ‘that’s okay,’ finally stepping out of his legs and clearing your throat.
he stands up straight, looking into the small mirror hanging on the wall and sighing.
‘my mom’s out of town.. you can stay here if you want,’ the words spill out before you can even think of the consequences of your proposition.
he turns to look at you, ‘thanks.. are your brother’s here?’ he asks cautiously, not wanting a further fight with jonathan tonight.
you shake your head, clearing up the supplies, ‘jon’s at work and will’s at the wheelers all weekend.’
‘oh.. okay,’ he nods, looking down at his scarred hands.
you pull your eyes from him and shuffle in your spot, ‘you can have my bed, i’ll be fine on the couch.’
‘thank you.. for this,’ he smiles weakly and you nod, refusing to meet his eyes, before turning to leave the bathroom.
you dreaded sleeping on the couch, you dreaded sleeping at all. since that horrific experience in the tunnel, sleep had become a haunted place, images of your brother, of that creature coming at you now running through your mind in replacement of dreams.
choosing to instead stay awake where you could at least control the thoughts. they couldn’t consume you when you were awake.
-
‘steve?’ you whisper, his back to the door so you’re unable to tell if he was awake.
‘mmm?’ he groans, turning to you.
‘can i.. can i sleep in here?’
‘it’s your bed, silly,’ he gives you a small smile.
‘no, i mean.. with you?’ you swallow, unsure why this was making you so anxious.
‘of course,’ he shuffles over, giving you more room.
you close the door and slink over to the bed, delicately climbing under the covers.
‘it’s scary out there,’ you mumble.
knowing that steve was only in the other room, making the already horrid experience much worse.
he smiles slightly, putting an arm behind his head as he looks up to the ceiling.
you turn over, turning off the lamp on your bedside table and sighing.
not wanting to get too close to steve, making it awkward, you lay facing the door, curled up into yourself.
eventually, you fall asleep, snoring softly as steve struggles to drift off, sneaking occasional glances at you.
at some point in the night you stir, mumbling incoherently about something, tossing and turning.
you wake to steve’s arm pulling you closer, his soft voice cooing you back to sleep.
you sniff, looking up at him, ‘i think i was having a nightmare..’ you don’t move away, instead embracing the contact and shuffling closer, ‘i’ve been having them since that night.. about everything we saw..’
he inhales deeply, ‘me too.. i haven’t been sleeping,’ he admits, his hand beginning to rub your arm.
you lay there in silence for a short while, still stilted from the nightmare.
‘i’m sorry.. for what i said..’ you sigh, hesitantly putting your head on his chest.
these repeated intimate moments with steve were doing nothing for the way you were now feeling about him. you weren’t angry at him really, you were angry at yourself for letting him crawl his way into your heart. after everything he had done to you, everything he had said about your family, you were still unequivocally falling for him.
‘it’s okay.. i was cruel and i’m sorry for that,’ he rests his chin on the top of your head.
‘why did you kiss me?’ you ask pointedly, desperate to understand his intentions.
‘because i wanted to.. you looked beautiful,’ he answers.
you can feel his heart pounding against your cheek, the same feeling from that night in the tunnel when he clutched onto you for dear life.
you move slightly off his chest to look up at him, his features bathing in the moonlight creeping in your window.
he stares back, unsure of what to do next.
‘i liked it..’ you murmur, barely audible.
he moves his arm, placing his thumb and forefinger on your chin, titling it further towards him. you can just about make out his eyes moving to your lips, before he leans down, kissing your lips softly.
your eyes flutter shut before you shift more onto your stomach, moving your leg up over his, wanting to get closer, to experience every part of him.
his thumb stroking your skin softly, other hand moving to the small of your back.
you pull away, studying his face, ‘i liked that more,’ you don’t try to hide the smile on your face.
‘me too,’ he breathes, grin creeping onto his face.
the night is full of kisses. kissing him just because you can, because it feels good. like his lips were the safest place in the world.
-
it’s not early when you finally awake, the bright sun indicated that it was at least afternoon.
truthfully, you had both needed the sleep, finally able to sleep through without the darkness of that night creeping in.
your head still in the same position on his chest, hoping to god that you didn’t drool.
you sit up, breaking away from his grasp and just watching him sleep. tracing over the cuts on his hand that was now holding onto your arm.
he stirs, slowly opening his eyes to look up at you, squinting from the bright daylight cascading in.
‘hi,’ you whisper, blinking down at him.
‘morning,’ he says, voice gruff with sleep.
‘not quite,’ you look over to the alarm clock on your bedside table quite clearly displaying that morning had passed.
‘jeez.. i haven’t slept that good in.. months,’ he stretches, placing his head back on the pillow, never breaking eye contact.
‘me too,’ you smile, ‘you hungry?’
‘mm, very,’ he sits up as you get out of the bed, one of jonathan’s hoodies hanging off of you.
‘c’mon, i’m starving,’ you motion, roughly combing through your hair with your fingers.
steve joins you standing and your eyes quickly fall to his black boxer shorts before averting your eyes and spinning on your heel to the door.
you’re mumbling about something when you reach the kitchen, two sets of eyes now staring at you.
you stop abruptly, eyes widened at the sight of nancy and jonathan sat at your kitchen table.
steve is either still half asleep or simply not paying attention as he bumps into the back of you, nearly knocking you over.
there’s a small silence, jonathan’s eyes flicking from you to steve to steve’s lack of clothing and then back to you.
‘i.. uh, thought you had work this morning?’ you stutter, tripping over your words.
‘i did. it’s one in the afternoon,’ your brother says, pushing the plate back from in front of him.
‘right..’ you nod, biting your bottom lip.
nancy just stares down at the table, finding it increasingly awkward that her ex boyfriend was stood in her current boyfriends kitchen.
‘i’m just gonna..’ steve points to your room before speeding off.
you can’t decipher the look on jonathan’s face, part disappointment and part confusion. after the last few days of your moping and inadvertent comments about steve, he had hoped you weren’t going to go back.
‘he had nowhere to go, jon.. i couldn’t just leave him,’ you’re almost pleading with him.
he sighs, ‘i don’t care.. you can do whatever you want,’ he scowls.
you look down at the floor, playing with the hem on his hoodie.
‘i’m staying at nance’s tonight.. i was gonna ask but.. i guess you’ll be alright here,’ he raises his eyebrows, now looking at his girlfriend.
‘yeah.. i’ll be okay,’ you mutter.
jonathan stands from the table, the empty plates clattering into the sink before grabbing his bag from the floor.
nancy flashes you a small, but sincere smile as she walks out of the room.
you grab jonathan’s arm before he can push past you, causing him to glare down at you.
‘it’s his dad jon..’ you whisper, catching his gaze. it was unnecessary to finish the sentence, he knew perfectly well what you were going to say.
jonathan sighs, tensing his jaw before giving you a small nod. a small, unspoken, understanding between the two of them.
he gives your arm a gentle squeeze before walking out of the door, following nancy to his car.
you exhale before walking back to your room, nudging the door open to see steve stood by your bed in his jeans.
‘it’s safe to come out now,’ you chuckle, watching as he fumbles around with his shirt.
‘i can go.. if you want? my dad’s probably cooled off by now..’ he looks at you.
you shake your head, ‘no.. stay, jon’s spending the night at nancy’s and i really don’t want to be all alone,’ you reassure him.
steve doesn’t need to be asked twice, another night away from his dad with the added bonus of being with you was enough for him.
the rest of the day is spent lazing around on your couch, watching the stack of pretentious movies jonathan had rented from the video store and eating your mom’s cupboards bare.
conversation about everything and nothing fills the room, exactly how it was with him before that party. except now, it felt lighter. like you weren’t both hiding something.
eventually, talking turns to kissing and then suddenly it’s a hazy make out session with your legs straddling steve’s, his large hands running up and down the skin of your back.
you shift on his lap and he groans into your mouth as you thigh brushes against his semi-erect cock.
continuing the action, repeatedly shifting your hips back and forth, adoring the way steve was becoming undone.
the kiss becomes sloppy, lazily connecting your mouths as his groans become moans, strong fingers digging into your back.
you were a novice at this, responding to his sounds with a quickening of your hips.
his hands slide down to the fat of your hips, stopping your movements before he actually came in his pants.
‘mm.. do you want to?’ he asks, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips.
you nod slowly, hesitant to already be letting steve fuck you, but too turned on to say no.
‘i’ve only.. done it once..’ you mumble, simply embarrassed that you were not nearly as experienced as him.
to be quite frank, it had been dreadful. in the 10th grade, you and one of your friends, dylan, had made a pact that if you were both still virgins at the end of summer then you would have sex with each other.
summer ends and of course you’re still a virgin, so you go over to his house and have the most awkward, awful, five minutes of sex before leaving and never speaking of it again. you wondered why everyone was in such a rush, if it was godawful like that, what’s the need?
‘we don’t have to,’ he places his forehead on yours.
‘i want to,’ sliding your hands to his shoulders, ‘but not here.’
he nods, moving you off of him and onto the couch before standing and readjusting himself, before looping his arms underneath your arms, hoisting your body up.
your legs wrap around his waist, arms hanging off of his neck as you kiss him again. a giggle escapes into the kiss has he backs you into a wall, returning the kiss.
he relents, moving towards your bedroom and laying your body back onto the bed, falling on top of you, his lips finding your neck, leaving soft kisses all the way down to your collarbones.
your hands slide into his long, tousled hair as his hips rut against yours, lips leaving a trail of violet marks as he begins to remove your hoodie, as his huge hands glide against your exposed skin.
you lift your arms up to allow him to pull the hoodie off, breathing out shakily as you’re left exposed beneath him.
his eyes glance down between your bodies before quickly meeting yours again, lips smashing against yours. you can feel him smirk against your lips.
you’re giving him complete control, having no idea what to do next in this situation, unsure of where your hands should go or do, what noises you should be making. it was miles apart from your experience with dylan.
he takes his own shirt off before continuing the kiss, grinding his now very erect cock against you. the unfamiliar sensation between your legs becoming entirely too much, needing him to hurry up with this routine.
steve picks up on your needy groans, fumbling around with his jeans before shimmying them down and off of his legs.
you can immediately feel the sheer length of him pressed against your core, only a thin layer of fabric between you.
he can feel your body brace slightly, ‘are you sure you want to do this?’ he asks against your skin, face still buried in your neck.
‘yes.. i want to,’ you assure, running your fingertips through his hair.
he moves back up to your eye level, moving a hand to cradle your cheek, propping his body up on his elbow as his other hand tugs his boxers down around his thighs, before doing similar to your pajama shorts.
‘sure?’ he double checks, staring down into your eyes through thick eyelashes.
you nod, ‘yes, steve,’ you whisper, blinking up at him.
he lines himself up with your entrance, his eyes not breaking contact with yours at all as he very slowly slides into you, your nails digging into his shoulders at the feeling of fullness.
it was no secret that steve’s cock was huge. you’d heard girls at school giggling about it after they’d watched his basketball practice, the outline of it was incredibly prominent on those school issued shorts.
but now it was inside of you and potentially it could be too big as you brace, ‘w-wait,’ your hand stopping him from moving, eyes squeezed shut.
‘too much?’ he asks nervously, staying as still as possible.
you nod slightly, looking back at him before quickly looking away. his gaze was all the more intimidating with his dick inside of you.
you exhale and release your grip from his shoulder, ‘o-okay,’ you whisper.
‘okay..’ he nods, slowly moving his hips as you stretch around him, becoming accustomed to the feeling of his cock.
he keeps a slow pace, soft groans tumbling out of his mouth.
eventually the uncomfortable feeling becomes pleasurable and your mouth falls open, watching as his hair flops down to his forehead and his sweet eyes take in every inch of your face.
‘yeah?’ he mumbles as he cautiously quickens his rhythm.
you can only nod in response, words failing you as he hits your sweet spot. encouraging him to continue with lowly moans and gasps, slightly tugging on his hair.
his hand moving down to find your clit, thumb rubbing small circles around the fleshy area. the feeling is foreign and you don’t know how to respond to the building pressure in your stomach, worlds apart from your past experience.
‘s-steve..’ you gasp, closing your eyes as he grunts into your ear.
‘mmm.. yeah?’
you can hear the smirk in his voice as he begins to falter, nearing his own orgasm.
‘shit..’ you breathe as the pressure reaches it’s hilt and your walls clench around him, legs trembling and a variety of curse words fall out of your lips.
the sight of you coming undone beneath him is enough to send steve to his orgasm, a final few thrusts as he empties himself into you.
he rolls over to the empty bed next to you, a deep exhale as his chest rises and falls.
you pull the blanket up to your chin, suddenly incredibly insecure about your performance.
steve turns on his side to face you, gentle hand reaching up to cup your face, forcing you to look at him.
you cheeks burn red, but you maintain the eye contact, returning his smile.
‘you’re good, yeah?’ he asks, running his thumb over your cheek.
‘yeah,’ moving in closer to his chest as his arms wrap around your shoulders, holding you to him.
the pair of you lay in silence in that position for a short while, his chin resting against the top of your head.
‘i.. uh-,’ he swallows, ‘i really like you.. if that wasn’t already obvious..’ he breaks the silence.
you grin against his chest, heart skipping a beat, ‘it wasn’t,’ you jest, ‘..i like you too,’ you add quietly.
his fingers begin tracing through your hair, perfectly locked together in your bed, spending the rest of the night babbling about irreverent topics, seeing the real steve harrington. not ‘king steve’ or the version of steve girls in school had made up about him, but the true him.
before eventually falling asleep cradled in his arms, a place you found yourself the most secure.
#steve harrington#steve harrington x you#steve stranger things#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington angst#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington smut#stranger things x you#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington x reader smut#steve harrington x byers!reader#steve harrington enemies to lovers
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The Real Thing (original version)
A Fears to Fathom: Ironbark Lookout drabble, related to My Own, Distant Home
We reached 100 hits on My Own, Distant Home while I wasn't looking, that's so exciting! Thank you all for your support, and have this as a gift. I'm working on another long fic for Ironbark, a proper sequel to this one, so this should line up as a teaser. Something soft and sweet, with just enough dread
UPDATE: This is the original version. A new, longer version is posted to the masterlist and ao3, which is considered the canon version in this AU.
Jack Nelson x Connor Hawkins
Words: 1.3k
Genre: Fluff (too sweet maybe), horror elements
~*~
Tall, bright green trees lined the winding blacktop road, obscuring the path around the upcoming curves, but not able to block out the sun on such a clear, summer day. The RV navigated the road with ease at the hands of it’s owner and operator, most recently passing a green interstate sign, “You are now leaving Idaho”, and the doubly large sign after it where a cowboy on his horse declared “Welcome to Wyoming: Forever West.”
“I think you were more excited to get your CD collection back than your truck,” said Jack, as Connor flipped happily through his shoe-box of albums, the edges worn down to the cardboard where it had been slid out and back under the bench seat over and over for years.
“The joy is split, for sure. I let the kids keep all the Journey and Alice Cooper. They were vocal about wanting those.”
Jack took his eyes off the road long enough to smile at him, admire the childish joy on his face as he hunched over the box, thumbing over the track lists like he was a teenager again, in a music store for the first time. Behind their RV, they towed along said truck, a 2000 Toyota Tacoma in what Connor affectionately called “Stacy’s favorite green”, bought brand new for cash the year he left the army. The truck he only drove for a few months before he became a fire lookout at Ironbark, and since then had been driven almost exclusively by Stacy: Connor’s older sister, another deceptively charming blonde with two children under 10 and no one to rely on besides her brother.
“That was an incredible thing you did, Connor,” Jack said seriously. “To buy Stacy a car in exchange for getting the truck back. When it was yours to begin with, and she wasn’t going to fight you on wanting to keep it with us.”
“Nah.” He shooed away Jack’s admiration, flipping over the CD in his hand. “I wasn’t gonna leave her with nothing. And it wasn’t like I got her a Mercedes, just a little something for her to get back and forth to work and the kids to school. I should be thanking you, actually, you’re the one who looked over the engine and told the guy to change the oxygen sensors before we would pay for it.”
Jack offered a shrug, managing a shy smile when Connor reached over to nudge his cheek, unable to kiss him with his seat-belt on.
“What kind of albums do you have, Jack? I think we’ve listened to nothing but the radio since we left Washington.”
“I like the radio. It’s got NPR, weather, rock, every—THING! Connor, no.” He yelled (squeaked) in alarm when Connor began rummaging through the glove compartment, looking for evidence to the contrary. Curse the RV for being so wide, he risked swerving if he reached far enough to slam the lid closed. Meanwhile, smiling and completely unbothered, Connor continued to snoop.
“What do we have here? Oh, Jack. Jackie, baby, what are these?” He grinned in triumph to hold up a handful of CDs: his partner’s most private feelings in rhythm and prose. “Is this what you listened to before you picked me up? Toto, Tracy Chapman, Annie Lennox, BOBBY Caldwell—Jackie? Blue-eyed soul?”
Jack’s face was red enough to pass for a farmer’s market tomato, hands tight on the steering wheel. If Connor squinted, he might see steam rising from his collar beneath the tight line of his lips. “Don’t make fun of me, Connor, please.”
“I would never, Jack,” he replied earnestly, all whiskey and warmth as he popped open one of the cases and began to decipher the RV’s stereo system. Static seemed to be the most common channel in their current neck of the woods, among a brief news transmission: ‘—ark state park in Washington, where the body count is up to 9—’, lost to both their ears with Connor’s searching for the right button.
With a slip of the disc in the slot, a sensual piano filled the cabin, only worsening Jack’s embarrassment when a sultry saxophone joined the singer, the iconic croon of a soulful ballad. He burned, resisting the urge to enjoy himself, and chanced a quick look at Connor.
To the tune of his fluttering heart, he only found him smiling, no longer looking through his box or reading the billboards. Smiling at him, all warm brown eyes as he began to sing along, as if to say that between them, everything was sacred because nothing could be wrong.
“I want the real thing, or nothing at all. I need someone that I can be sure will catch me if I should fall. Someone who’ll be there when I call, then I’ll know that it’s the real thing.”
“How… do you know all the words?” Jack mumbled, and Connor cut off his amateur singing.
“Why do you think?” He reached across the console to touch his hand where it loosened it’s grip on the wheel. “You never have to be embarrassed, Jack, not with me.”
Easy for him to say, when he’s the one playing with both the tempo of the poor man’s heart and the temperature in the room. They came to a stop under a light, and Jack busied his hands tapping his thumb on the wheel until he heard Connor’s seat-belt click, saw him rise to walk towards the back of the RV.
“Where are you going?” As long as he was out of sight, he would miss him.
“Use your imagination, Jack, I can’t exactly wander far. Although, I suggest you find a place to park soon, or you might miss the good part.”
“The wh—” He kept his foot on the brake, turning away from the red light to look for him, only to bite down on his words as Connor slowly slipped his belt free, let it fall to the rug with a quiet thump. Next came his shirt, pulled off by the hand on the back of his collar. Among the slow reveal of his toned back, the moles on his spine, the song urged Jack onward, a different one, something about “Come to me” and “Let me love you, honey”.
“The light’s green, Jack.” Connor smirked at him, tossing his shirt in the vague direction of the driver’s seat.
He snapped his eyes back to the road, pressing the gas a little too hard and hearing Connor’s laugh drift up from where he grabbed the kitchen counter to steady himself. If Jack didn’t find a place to park in the next 3 miles, he vowed, he would pull them onto the damn shoulder and hope this road was as rarely traveled as the map had suggested.
From the bedroom, a quiet moan piqued his hot ears, among the sound of what might have been his name if the CD player wasn’t still going in the speaker beside his feet.
Shit. All right, 1 mile.
By the grace of somebody, otherworldly or other, the parking lot to a campsite appeared on his right, empty too, all thanks to the heat advisory that was meant to last for the rest of the week. Jack was probably the only person in the county grateful for it, if only because it meant leaving the key in the ignition to keep the AC running left the music on too.
They deserved their break.
Neither of them knew the winter was going to be a hard one. That before the end of the year, they would be in danger again. Better to grab some comfort while they can, hold each other close, before the leviathan resident of those Ironbark woods extends itself from the trees and begins to seek out the only survivors who know it’s name.
They couldn’t know it was already awake.
#jack nelson x connor hawkins#fears to fathom#fears to fathom ironbark lookout#fears to fathom fanfic#ao3 fanfic#mlm fanfic#oc fanfiction#writing#fanfiction#short and sweet#fluff#fluff and romance#drabble#not posted to ao3#silkenspeaks
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{#} 𝐝𝐞.
𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲
𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫
To Dick, time was of the essence. If he didn't make his move on [your name] quick, Jim would. See now Dick wasn't the only one who had their eyes on [your name]. Jim Harper was cute to the female.
'Who could turn down a redhead?' she'd always joke, causing Dick to laugh awkwardly. Deep down he wanted to scream because it seemed to him that she had a type. If she had a type, he wanted to scream because he didn't fit the criteria. Dick was not a redhead, in fact, his hair was black. If anything, the only thing the two shared was their eye colors. The standard blue-eyed white males, that's what they were.
Yet, Dick felt as if he was running out of time. His mind was in a frenzy. Would be weird for him to ask her out? Or would he let her fall in love with Jim? But there was something missing from this equation, something that left his mind once he found out about Jim.
As he began to think, he realized that Jim wasn't his only obstacle. There was Stacy, after talking to [your name], he said he was going to end things with her. The night he was supposed to end it with her, they ended up sleeping with each other.
How could someone claim to be in love, yet they're out here sleeping around with the person they want? That was the big question in his head, which is why he needed to end things with Stacy quickly.
Just when he was about to leave, [your name] came jogging downstairs, "Hey boy wonder, what ya' up to?" he stopped in his tracks.
"I was about to go do something, what's up?" her lips curved into a small smile, looking at the male.
"Wanna go with me to the store? We're runnin' low on food and I needa refill my bins with snacks," he was sure that Stacy could wait.
"Sure I'll go... But I feel like there's a catch..." he raised his brow at her. The fake gasp that she did, gave it away.
"Fine, I want you to drive because I don't feel like drivin," she handed him her car keys. That's what he was looking for, but he handed her keys back.
"We'll take my car so I won't adjust the seat so much," he gave her a small smile before they walked out to his car.
Regret is what he felt when he offered to take her to the store. Now he was stuck with her singing, which wasn't the greatest. He's heard worse, but high notes weren't her strong suit. 'Just a few more minutes,' he thought to himself as his fingers tapped the steering wheel. While [your name] continued to horribly sing along to Lauryn Hill's 'Can't Take My Eyes Off of You', he mentally sang it. Relating to some of the lyrics being sung.
He couldn't take his eyes off of her. No matter how hard he tried, he'd end up getting caught staring. It wasn't his fault, she was just beautiful. It wasn't normal for Dick Grayson to fall in love with someone within a three-second span. One glance and he fell in love with her smile. These were the things he wished he could say but kept them to himself.
[your name]'s singing finally stopped as they reached the parking lot of BJ's, "I know, I know. You're sad the free concert ended, but you'll get it once we're done shoppin'," she looked at him with a fake pout.
"I'm actually relieved," he jokingly sighed, where she lightly slapped his arm.
The two got out of his car and walked over to where the carts were. A small argument happened about who was going to push the cart. After Dick made his point on how she was the one who knew what she needed to buy, it'd make sense for him to push the cart and follow her.
Boy did she walk fast, and it was hard for him to keep up with other people pushing carts as well. It felt like he was in a race, cutting corners and taking wide turns. Wondering where the hell would you be turning to next?
"I'm tired of walkin' Dick..." she pouted, looking at him.
"Can you push me in the cart?" she added, batting her eyes at him.
"With all these things in here?" he scoffed, eyes a bit wide.
"Then this should be an easy workout for you then. You can't be that weak? Can ya'?" a tiny smirk formed on her lips.
"Oh... Now you're just provoking me huh?"
"I don't know what you're talkin' about..." she trailed off, looking at the ceiling.
"Fine, get in," he gave her a small smile while she clapped her hands together.
She happily got into the cart and he began to push the cart to the self-checkout area. Her screams could be heard from three aisles down as Dick pushed the cart with speed, "that's not funny..." she rolled her eyes at the male who helped her out of the cart.
"To me it was," he chuckled, helping her scan her items.
Everything was placed back in the cart, and they walked it back to his car. Her free concert continued on their way back and he had no choice but to pretend and like it.
"Thanks, ocean eyes," she chuckled, looking at the male who sat down on her bed.
"Ocean eyes? That's new..." he looked at her, trying to hide his smile.
"Yeah... Somethin' bout them blue eyes..." she trailed off, smiling at him.
Was this a confirmation that he needed? This had to be a compliment for him. On the inside, he was screaming. On the outside, he had to play it cool. Waiting for the right moment to make his move.
"But you should sleepover! You haven't slept over in my room in a while," she had the biggest smile on her face while he chuckled.
"Sure, if that'll make you happy," he sighed with a small smile.
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#interracial#black reader#black writers#nightwing x black!reader#black!reader#nightwing x black reader#nightwing#dick grayson x black reader#dick grayson x black!reader#dick grayson#richard grayson#richard grayson x black!reader#richard grayson x black reader#bat family x black!reader#bat family x black reader#batfam#dc universe x black!reader#dc universe x black reader#dc universe#dc comics#dc comics x black!reader#dc comics x black reader#young justice x black!reader#young justice x black reader#young justice
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HINFPATC: Chapter 7 - Chemistry in Chemistry
In which Tabby meets (and feels something for) her lab partner for the first time
The chemistry classroom was pretty big. The walls were lined with long, clear windows. 6 tables, each with 4 chairs, were scattered around the room. The remaining wall spaces were covered in cupboards, which were plastered with posters of different molecules and DNA strands. On top of the cupboards were little models of the solar system, scales and flasks, all sorts of things. The students were gathered around the classroom in pairs or trios. Tabby spotted one of Max’s friends, Jason, talking to another boy by the corner. She steered clear. A tall boy clad in suspenders and a bow tie was chatting with a dark-skinned girl with glasses, her hair pulled into two tight puffs.
The teacher stood at the head of the group. She was a woman, she looked to be in her mid to late 30’s. She had a kind smile, and her ginger hair was trimmed into a pixie cut. She was dressed in a pair of khakis and a simple blue sweater.
“Happy first day back!” She greeted her pupils. “Please gather against the right-hand wall, I’ll be assigning seats shortly. If you don’t know me–and I happen to know we do have a few students new to Hatchetfield this year–my name is Ms. Barnes, but I would prefer if you just called me Robbie. I try to treat my students like my friends, so having you all on a first name basis with me has always been a must. I’ve been teaching here for six years, and I’m so excited to be spending the year with you.”
It was a normal beginning-of-the-school year speech, the kind that every educator made to hopefully help their students not completely hate them. Tabby glanced at the teacher again. She liked the whole vibe the teacher gave off: motherly in a way that was far different from Tabby’s own mother. The first name basis thing struck a chord that Tabby didn’t know her heart could play.
Robbie began rattling off names from a list. Callahan, Bradley?” The boy Jason was talking to emerged from his friend’s shadow and sat down. “Chasity, Grace?” A girl dressed in a blue blouse and jeans raised her hand. Robbie pointed at one of the seats and Grace sat down. “Danehower, Tabatha?” Tabby cleared her throat. “Just Tabby, please.” Robbie smiled at her and nodded. “Tabby Danehower.” She pointed at a seat close to the window.
After Tabby sat down, more names were rattled off. Eventually Robbie got to: “Lauter, Stephanie?”
Tabby looked to see who this mysterious girl was, and was instantly met with a goddess in human form.
She was the most stunning human being Tabby had ever seen. She had long brown hair with bleached streaks, perfectly wavy as it fell down her back in ribbons. She wasn’t a stick figure like Max’s cronies, Brenda and Stacy, she instead had curves in all the right places. She had plump lips and perfect skin and her makeup was on point. She had gray-green eyes that seemed to glow, and she walked with the confidence of a runway model.
Robbie pointed to a seat and instructed Stephanie to sit down. Tabby was so lost in her own mind (read: so busy gawking at this ethereal being) that she didn’t notice where the seat was located. So before she knew it, Tabby was seated beside Stephanie.
She said nothing to Steph, mainly out of fear that she would, like speak back, but gazed thoughtfully into the back of her head.
Robbie called out a few more names: “Lipshitz, Trevor! Spankoffski, Peter! Zimmerman, Sarah!” By the end of it, Tabby was seated at a table with Stephanie, the boy called Trevor, and a girl named PJ.
“Everyone, please say hello to your lab partners! For this year, you’ll be paired up with whoever is sitting directly next to you. Unless major issues occur, this arrangement will not change.”
Tabby’s face flushed as she looked over at Steph, who was scrolling through Instagram reels on her phone. Tabby waved at her, and Steph waved back, tossing her phone into her backpack after a stern glance from Robbie.
“I don’t tolerate phones in my classroom unless you are permitted to use one to call a parent or guardian.” She explained. “I won’t confiscate them, because I trust you guys, but if there are recurring incidents I will have to write you up to Principal Blim.”
A collective groan rang out through the classroom. Tabby took this to mean that whoever this Principal Blim was, he was either very mean or very awkward.
“For today, I just want you to get to know your lab partners and me. We’ll read through the syllabus and grading rubric together, and then you’ll have the rest of class to chat. I assume most of you already know each other, but it’s always good to have a refresher!”
The syllabus and grading rubric only took about 30 minutes of an hour-long class, leaving roughly 20 left after all was said and done. For the first time in what had proved itself to be an interesting first period, Steph finally talked to her lab partner.
“So…I haven’t seen you around town before.” She said, rather awkwardly. “And I pretty much know this town better than anyone.”
“Yeah, I just moved here. From Canada. Well, we lived in New York first, when I was a baby, then Maine for most of my life, 5 months in Toronto, and now I’m here.”
“Huh. What brings you all the way to this shithole of a town?”
She chuckled. “My great uncle died. We inherited his house, a car, a bunch of money…and besides, anything’s better than being crammed in a tiny apartment with my family.”
“You have a big family?” Steph asked, what sounded almost like jealousy stinging in her voice.
“Not really. Just me, my mom and dad, my brother Levi, and our cat. But it seems like too much when you’re stuck in very limited square footage. Now we’ve got a whole ass mansion! It’s the big red one on Hickory Lane.”
“Woah…next to the old Waylon Place? I don’t think I could sleep if I saw that outside my window in the dark every night.”
“Is that the freaky old condemned ghost house?”
“Mhm.”
“It’s really not too bad, to be honest. I don’t pay too much attention to it, I just try to pretend like I live in a normal house in a normal town filled with normal people who have normal lives.” She looked back at Steph, her lips curling into a smile as the skin around Steph’s eyes crinkled.
“Good luck with that. I saw a guy eating a raw slab of beef outside the dentist’s office this morning.”
Note: Roberta “Robbie” Barnes is a new oc to this story! She is Becky Barnes’ older sister, she’s been teaching Chem for a while, and she also worked part-time at Pizza Pete’s to help support Becky, get her back on her feet.
#hatchetblr#hatchetfield oc#hatchetfield#tabatha danehower#my ocs#tabby danehower#ocs#my writing#HINPFATC
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Ritual of the Ancients Chapter 8: Vampires Love 24-Hour Wal-Mart
by Roan Rosser
This is a chapter of a complete vampire novel with a trans-masc main character and a gay romance subplot. New Chapters are posted every Sunday. If you like the novel and want to support the author, ebook and paperback copies can be purchased here.
****
I sat with Jack in his car, in the parking lot of his work. Jack rested his forehead against the steering wheel, arms crossed above his head. I shifted uncomfortably, keeping my arms crossed to press my chest down. At least the sweats were baggy and shapeless, so they did a good job of hiding my unbound breasts. Still, I hated having Jack see me like this.
Into the silence I asked, “I thought silver hurt werewolves, not vampires.”
His voice muffled by his arms, Jack said, “Everett, I told you before, don’t go looking to myths for answers. Supernaturals started a lot of those myths themselves, to try and obfuscate which ones are true. You’ll get hurt if you keep that attitude up.”
“Hurt.” I made quotation marks with my fingers and rolled my eyes. “May I live so long.”
He groaned into his steering wheel. “You really don’t know why someone is trying to kill you?”
“I told you, no!” My voice rose in pitch and I paused, taking a deep breath as I worked to control my anger. It wasn’t Jack’s fault. It wasn’t Jack I was angry at. “No, but I guess I have an idea, at least. Who would have known to find me here?” I gestured to the dark woods surrounding the secret, hidden building.
Jack turned his head to look at me out of the corner of his eye and frowned. “You’re right. Dave and Stacy knew you were there, but not who you were. I gave them a fake name.” He tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the steering wheel. “The police station,” Jack said, straightening up.
I shot Jack a questioning look.
“That’s the only connection, the request I made through the agency to get information about the incident.” His frown deepened. “Someone at the station must be keeping an eye on your file. When Dave asked our contact about you, someone passed our information on to your killer, or someone who knew them. The killer came out and staked out the building, on the off chance you were here. Then, when they saw you coming out the door, bam.” He slapped one hand on the steering wheel.
“They shot me.” I shuddered, remembering the odd sensation of the bullet punching through me.
“They didn’t just shoot you; that was a perfect shot through your heart. An assassination if I ever saw one. Your killer is a professional.”
“Wouldn’t a professional have shot me in the head?”
Jack turned the key to start his car, shaking his head. “No, too easy to miss. The chest is a much bigger target. Even if the shooter misses the heart, the shot is likely to hit something important and injure, if not incapacitate or outright kill the victim, giving the shooter a chance to finish the job.” I made a face.
“Yeah, but it at least gives us a place to start investigating.” He backed out of the spot, then headed back down the road.
“Is that really a good idea?” I asked, watching the tunnel of trees flash by in the headlights. “Sounds a bit to me like going into the lion’s den.”
“We need to get some answers, and quick, before your killer figures out that you’re more than human.” Jack turned back into the car lot, slowly crunching down the gravel.
“About that… Wouldn’t the killer have already thought I was dead?” I mused. “I don’t really remember what happened, but I think they slit my throat before the vampire found me and brought me back. That seems pretty cut and dry to me.”
Jack barked out a laugh as he pulled out onto Highway 30, and I shrank as I realized the dark joke I’d just made. “Yes, but they probably got suspicious when your body wasn’t discovered. It’s rare to survive that kind of injury, but not out of the realm of possibility. But with the gunshot, we have a small window of opportunity here. The killer isn’t going to be looking for you right now, and they don’t know I’m helping you yet. We go to the police station and try to get some answers.”
“Does Andr— I mean, is there anyone you used to work with still work at the station that might be willing to help us?”
Jack shook his head. “I didn’t work in Portland; I moved here from Maryland. I’d been reported dead, and some of the cops besides Andre saw me change, so the local supernatural community decided it was safer for me to stay dead and to relocate me across the country.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been hard,” I said, thinking back to my own family that had cut me out of their life when I’d come out. It still stung. One of my brothers, Michael, occasionally went behind my parents’ back to talk to me and give me updates on the family. Michael was a closeted gay man, and I was the only family member he’d confided in so far. He’d been working on our parents, trying to get them to accept me in preparation for his own coming out, but last I heard, Michael hadn’t had much success.
“A bit, yeah. Didn’t mean to dump that on you. Anyway, they might not know who I am, but I know the lingo and procedures. But for this to work, we’ll need to make one stop on the way first.”
***
The stop Jack mentioned turned out to be the twenty-four-hour Walmart near Delta Park. When we got inside, Jack made a beeline for the men’s department while I split off. He grabbed my arm before I’d made it a few steps away.
“Men’s is this way,” Jack said, pointing up at the hanging sign visible across the store.
“I’m too short and thin. Nothing in that department fits me. I have to shop in boys’.” I tried not to glower at him. I did appreciate him treating me like just one of the guys, but I still hated how it made me feel abnormal to state out loud why I couldn’t just shop with him in the men’s section.
Jack gave me a half-smile, looking me over with a shake of his head.
“You are a bit pocket-sized, aren’t you?”
I glared at him and hugged myself tighter. “I’ll meet you at the fitting rooms in twenty.”
“Promise not to eat anyone, and you have a deal.”
I rolled my eyes, and Jack’s hand tightened around my arm.
“I’m serious, Everett.”
“Fine, I promise.”
Jack nodded and let go. “Get casual clothes—dark colors—and a hoodie.”
I waved him off and headed off to the boys’ section. I quickly found a plain black T-shirt, jeans, and hoodie in my size. Next, I made a detour to the health section. A new trans-specific binder like my ruined one wasn’t exactly something I could pick up from Walmart, but I’d improvised before in high school; a neoprene back brace from the pharmacy area could work in a pinch.
Once I met up with Jack and we changed in the fitting rooms, I wrapped the back brace around my chest and velcroed it tightly closed before putting on the shirt and hoodie. Under the T-shirt, my chest wasn’t even noticeable. Before we checked out, Jack made a detour to the electronics section and picked out a cheap prepaid cell phone and minutes card.
“Just in case,” he said, handing it over to me after opening it and putting in his number as a contact.
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