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fullofgutsndopamine · 3 days

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We Could Build A Home (We Could Play Pretend) six

TW/ cursing, drinking, drunk driving, graphic description of injury, hospital (setting), angst, shitty/abusive parents (yours/charlies), neglect, abuse, peer pressure into drinking, mention of past abuse, cleaning up after abuse, description of injury.

more here

Doug tries to fill the charlie filled hole left in your life.

The space is there, and everyday, it gets a little easier to close in one.

Life goes on; you move downstairs and sleep on the couch most days, insisting-and lying-to yourself, it's because it's cooler down there, your father leaves that room alone more often than not, and definetly has nothing to do with the fact that it doesn't face charlie’s house, and it's easier to drown out the music that thumps from his house when his father leaves, the way his father yells "Charles!" rips out of him with such venom at 2am that it makes you shoot out of bed and look out the window, hand on your chest, praying he's fine.

there's reminders of him, there still. you tell yourself they're left over, that you just found them years and years before, forgot about them beore you shoved them back in their collective spot; the crumbled notebook paper in your running shoes with his slanted writing that says: be safe, i love you or the note shoved in the corner of the mailbox that says: u look pretty today. you shove them back in and force yourself to forget about them.

it becomes easier as time goes on.

or atleast, you tell yourself it does.

Doug fills the void to the best of his ability-

he fails, but he tries.

at least, he does at first.

Doug is the polar opposite of charlie; fast cars, loud parties, different glass bottles of beer shoved in his hands the second he appears at a party, it's hard to not fall into the lifestyle.

When you show up at his side at the party, you're immediately accepted in, almost excitedly, and it's hard to pass that feeling up.

and you talked to charlie forever about how you would never drink, not after what you've seen with your own father, his father, the venom spit at you two with a little drinking does-

and Doug tries to understand, at first.

Knocks shoulders with his friends, insists that's now what you do, not your scene, gets you a water-

at first, it's okay. until it becomes annoying, some social obligation he has to do, the same song and dance-

"Live a little, babe." Doug is already slurring, pre-gamed before the party. "One drink isn't going to hurt ya. Besides, can't even taste the alcohol, I promise."

And at first, you can turn it down.

Until it becomes as if you owe Doug the drink, like he's doing some charity service by taking you, the least you could do is drink a free beer-

he's right, it doesn't taste like alcohol. And it's dangerous.

You're a lightweight.

This is your first time drunk, and you don't eve realize it.

It's scary, almost. How everything is so loud but also muted at the same time-like, you hear Doug talking to you, and taking his car keys even though he's staggering around the room, but it comes up distorted, muffled, it's catching in your ears, but it isn't sticking.

You follow him outside, red faced, giggling, you find yourself pulling Doug by the collar of his shirt closer to you, your lips against his ear, and you're saying you get it. You understand why he does this, why your father loves it so much-

and he promises he's fine. He giggles as he touches his fingertip to his nose, as if showing off a sobriety test messily. he misses the tip of his nose, but it makes you giggle more.

And your in the drivers seat, hand tangled into his and the window is down and your hair is whipping around you and everything is so fucking funny-and your fingers tingle in a way you've never felt before, some kind of electric, static feeling that you tell Doug with wide open eyes, makes him giggle and kiss you harder on the lips-

it's hard to tell someone to pay attention to the road when their tongue is down your throat, and headlights fall behind your window, bright enough to make you whip your head around-

you don't remember much.

you remember being irritated, at someone driving around town with their headlights on, you remember turning to Doug, about to make a joke about them being a dick-

the rest is blurry, hurts too much to think about. your head pounds in a way you aren't sure you've felt before, hand colliding with your forehead, feeling the hard plastic against your forehead before you investiage.

charlie learns two days later.

he guesses, looking back, that it's weird he hadn't heard anything from you the past few days. even if you aren't talking, he can usually pin point where you are in the house from the noise, the creaking doors, the humming you do-

he learns it in passing.

A friend of a friend of his comes over, over cheap drinks and a guitar with a missing guitar string-and he's strumming it on the worn out couch he dragged to the garage months ago, when he lets it spill. The friend asks if charlie has any information on you, any gossip to add, the church folks have to now-how you're turning into your father-

and charlie all but kicks them out of his garage, runs around his house frantically, grabbing anything he can think of: car keys, water bottle, his hoodie you love-nothing else matters but the fact that you're injured, you're sick, and you're without him right now.

it's sick, in a way. how you two bonded over the beatings, how you two would play house after, patching the other up, hushed voices as you promise the other that it's the last time, that you two are going to pack it up, leave in the dead of night, when all you can hear are crickets in the back, the glow from the lightning bugs-it never happened, but it was how you two coped.

charlie all but runs to your room.

Gets the information from a bored security guard downstairs, is running to the elevator as he pins the guest badge to his shirt, tapping his foot at how slow the elevator is, and when he gets to the floor, weaving in and out of the tired nurses and doctors, underpaid and overworked, but he doesn't care, because you're hurt, and you're alone, and he said he'd never let that happen-

you're pathetic, to begin with.

Machines crowd around you, tubes in and out of you, crowding around you, makes him feel claustrophobic just looking at you-and your face is speckled with dirt, still, and bruised to hell, bandaged up that he can't tell what's for safety and what's actually hurt.

"Sunshine."

His voice betrays him, cracks, as he comes into the room, nudges the door shut behind him.

Your head snaps around to the best of your ability, even in a neck brace- and he's rushing to your side.

"Charlie-"

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" He's running the pad of his thumb over your face, the lines and scars he memorized, now with new editions, the oxygen canal jabs into his finger and his eyebrows squish together in confusion.

"charlie, why the fuck are you here?" You try and move your head away from him, but everything is harder.

His voice shakes, his eyes glisten with tears, his voice is low, deep, all gravel, and he's looking into your eyes as he speaks: "Why didn't you come to me?" The pad of his thumb over your forehead, over the scar you've had for ages, his eyebrows mush into you, genuine confusion: "We always clean each other up. T-That's our job. That's what we do."

You look away, because you won't let him see you cry, he's seen you cry far too many times, when he'd help clean you up, those songs he'd sing to you as he worked a washcloth over you, or making a makeshift sling or anything, those elaborate fairy tale stories he'd tell in an excited hushed whisper in a ball in the bathroom, he's injured, and he's still the one trying to make you feel better-

"Why do you even care, charlie?" You snort, turning towards the window so your back is to him, don't want him to see the angst that hangs over you. "You weren't there."

"I know," His voice is a whisper, "I wasn't there. I am now, please-" his voice cracks, "Please, let me in. Let me help."

You clear your throat, hoping it doesn't break, doesn't betray you, "Fuck off, charlie. Get out before I call security."

And you hear him sniffle by your elbow, but you don't turn around again until you're sure he's gone.

When you wake up later, it's to a tired looking nurse, checking the various bags around you, taking notes on the laptop.

"Glad you finally got that nap in, hm?" She teases with a smile, how you did everything you could to avoid sleep, the black ink of nightmares you knew would find you when your eyes shut. "Your boyfriend is in the waiting room. Waited all night for ya."

You groan, thinking it's Doug, the idea of him makes you rub your forehead in anxiety, a talk for another day. "I don't have a boyfriend."

"You don't?" She seems genuinely confused, "Some guy waited in the waiting room for you all night. Slept with his jacket over his shoulders, was very pathetic. Said his name was uh-Charlie, I think?"

Pink rushes to your face, and you don't let yourself think about it for too long, because you aren't going to cry to a nurse. She has enough to worry about.

"Kick him out." You say instead, and you're surprised when she snorts.

"Oh honey," She laughs, "We tried that. Multiple times. Keeps comin' back, like a stray, or somethin'. Insists he isn't leavin' until he sees ya."

You groan, knowing you'll have to talk to him at some point, at the very least for a ride home-he's your neighbor, you're going to run into him at some point.

"Can you send him in, whenever you get a second?" You say in a quiet voice, suddenly the lost, confused child you thought you abandoned long ago.

She hums, "Of course, dear."

And she walks out of the room, turns and disappears.

#caroline writes #charlie slimecicile #charlie slimecicle x you #charlie slimesicle x reader #charlie slimesicle fanart #slimecicle x y/n #slimecicle x you #charlie slimecicle x reader #slimecicle fic #slimecicle imagine #slimecicle x reader #charlie slimecicle #slimecicle

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gretavanfanfic · 4 years

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Thin Line

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: 5600ish

Warnings: Attempted sexual assault, language.

Summary: You and Sam share all the same friends, but he hates you...or so you think.

Note: This was inspired by #5 on this prompt list.

Sam Kiszka hates you. You’re sure of it. You don’t quite know what his reason is for disliking you, but you can feel his disdain for you every time you’re in the same room together. Which is pretty awkward, considering you’ve been in the same friend group since the beginning of college.

When a mutual friend first introduced you to Sam and his brothers during your freshman year, you instantly felt comfortable around Jake and Josh and became fast friends. You even connected with and became close with Sam’s best friend, Danny, in a short period of time. But despite putting in what you felt was a significant effort to get to know Sam as well, he was totally uninterested in getting to know you.

At first you thought maybe he was just slow to come out of his shell, but to this day, Sam has never seemed to warm up to you. There’s just something in the way he treats you that’s different from how he treats your other friends. He’s colder, almost as if he resents you. Where he greets everyone else with smiles and hugs, you receive chilly stares and uninterested waves. Where he makes conversation and engages with everyone else, you receive minimal responses in a flat, bored tone. While you and Sam each hang out individually with all of your other friends, the two of you have never spent time together one on one.

You’ve tried your best not to let his behavior upset you, but truthfully, it does hurt your feelings. Because, in spite of his chilly attitude towards you, you quite like Sam. He’s loud and opinionated; goofy and incredibly intelligent. He’s talented, hard-working, and driven; quirky in an endearing way. Not to mention, he is extremely beautiful, with his long, wavy locks, chiseled features, and brilliant smile. Throughout the time you’ve known each other, you’ve wished for nothing more than for him to give you a chance, but you’ve resigned yourself to the fact that there are just some people in the world who will never like you. And Sam Kiszka was apparently someone who would never like you.

Sam’s contempt for you has seemed to go unnoticed by the rest of your friends, and you feel no need to mention it to any of them. Bringing it up would just make everything even more awkward. You’ve decided that you would much rather continue to feel comfortable around your other friends with some mild unease when Sam is there, than isolate yourself from the group by throwing accusations around haphazardly.

Ever since you came to the conclusion that Sam hates you, you’ve been a bit preoccupied with him. Now, as you sit on a couch in a stranger’s packed living room chatting with Jake over the sound of blaring music, you can’t stop yourself from glancing over at Sam periodically. He’s leaning against a wall across the room, having an animated conversation with Danny, a smile bright on his face, head tipping back with laughter every now and again. Your friend, Erin, joins them and Sam welcomes her into the discussion enthusiastically. You feel an unmistakable spark of jealousy in that moment, wondering what it is that Erin has and you lack that allows her to connect with Sam.

You must have let your stare linger for a little too long, because suddenly, Sam’s eyes flick up to meet yours. You panic and flash him a timid smile, hoping you come off as friendly. However, he just studies you for a brief moment and you see his lips pulling down into a frown. Then, just as quickly as this little moment between the two of you began, it ends as he turns his focus back to his conversation with Danny and Erin. You too return your attention to Jake and try not to read too much into what just occurred.

A little later, you leave your spot on the couch with Jake to find a drink in the kitchen. You drove to the party, so you can’t drink much, but you figure one cocktail can’t hurt. You’re in the middle of mixing a rum and Coke when you’re approached by a guy you don’t know. He’s cute, but he seems sleazy. You know all he wants is to hook up, and you’re not the type of person to sleep with just anyone.

He introduces himself as Drew, and then, as you predicted, immediately asks you if you want to go somewhere more quiet to, “talk.” Uninterested, you mutter a quick, “No, thank you,” pick up your drink, and proceed to leave the kitchen in search of a bathroom.

Much to your dismay, he does not take the hint and follows you into the hallway you’ve just entered. Noticing his presence, you speed up your pace, but are pulled to a halt when he reaches forward and takes hold of your wrist. Your fight or flight response kicks in instantly, heart rate accelerating and the hair at the back of your neck standing on end. Wrenching your wrist free, you spin around and glare at him.

“Can I help you?” you spit, venom in your voice. It’s at this moment that you realize that you’ve ventured into a mostly empty area of the house. Only a few people are around, but they’re too wrapped up in themselves to notice the conflict occurring just a couple of feet away. You cautiously take a few steps back, trying to distance yourself from this man who has suddenly become threatening.

Drew laughs and continues moving toward you. You try to inch even further backward, but your back hits the wall, making it sink in that you’ve been cornered. With his much larger frame, he boxes you in by putting both his palms on the wall on either side of your head.

Bending down, he smirks and says, “Come on, baby, don’t be like that. I just wanted to talk, get to know you a little better.”

Truly panicking now, you try to keep your voice steady when you counter, “And I declined. Now let me go.” You attempt to dip down and slide out from under his arm, but he’s too quick, shoving your shoulder back against the wall. Your drink slips out of your hand at this point, hitting the ground and splashing all over the carpet, walls, and your pants.

Leering at you with the same creepy smile on his face, he runs his fingers down the entire length of your arm, causing you to shiver. Stepping even closer, you feel his hot breath on your face as he taunts, “I’m just being nice, baby. Maybe you should learn to be a little more polite.”

You try to formulate a plan to escape this dilemma, but you’re so scared that your mind is blank. His hand has wandered to your back and settled on your ass, and you feel tears forming in your eyes. You try to look around for someone, anyone that may be able to help you, but the barricade he’s created with his arms has made that impossible. The only thing you can think of to do is scream, and you’re about to do it when you hear someone shout from behind his large body.

“Hey man, what the fuck are you doing? Get off of her!”

The voice sounds familiar, but you don’t register who it belongs to due to the overload of adrenaline coursing through your system. Your brain will not allow you to focus on anything for more than a millisecond, the feeling of terror consuming you. Trying to direct any of your brain power to identifying the person attempting to help you isn’t even an option.

Despite the unknown person’s protest, your assailant does not move an inch, continuing to hold you against your will. You attempt to wiggle out of his hold again, to no avail. Closing your eyes, you try to center yourself and prevent your breathing from increasing to the point of hyperventilation.

And then, he’s gone. The weight leaning up against you disappears and the air around you becomes cooler. It should be easier to breathe, but you still feel like you’re suffocating.

Eyes snapping open, you’re greeted by the sight of someone’s back. Sam Kiszka’s back, you quickly determine, given the long brown hair and slim frame. He has somehow shoved his way between you and your attacker, and is now shielding you with his body. Even though he is much smaller than Drew, you instantly feel safer, and very, very grateful that he intervened.

Drew’s face portrays his anger at Sam for preventing him from getting what he wanted from you. “You should mind your own fucking business, man!” he practically screams, trying to glare a hole through Sam.

“You don’t get to fucking touch her without her permission, you son of a bitch!” Sam growls, not backing down.

You don’t hang around to hear anything else. You desperately need some fresh air and to be out of this dark hallway.

Slipping out from behind Sam’s body, you speed walk away as fast as you can, only turning to look back at the scene once you reach the end of the hall. Drew and Sam, still exchanging anger-laced words, do not notice your exit, and for that, you are grateful. You hastily find your way back to the living room and out the front door, not bothering to even stop and tell your other friends that you’re leaving.

Once you step foot outside, you greedily suck in the cool Autumn air, a stark contrast to the warm stuffiness you felt as Drew was holding you against the wall. The whole encounter lasted maybe two minutes, but it felt like you were being held underwater for an hour and are just now surfacing.

Wiping the tears that you realize are still flowing down your cheeks, you dig your car keys out of the pocket of your jeans and locate your vehicle parked on the street. You feel a little bad for abandoning Erin since you drove her here, but you know she’ll find a ride back to her dorm with one of your other friends.

Speaking of your other friends, your phone vibrates in your pocket right before you put the car in drive, and you pull it out to see a text from Jake.

everything okay? saw you leave…

Apologizing to him for not saying goodbye, you come up with a ridiculous lie about getting your period and carefully pull out onto the street to begin your short journey home. Your phone buzzes again, but you don’t bother to check it.

The car ride passes by in a blur of sniffling and wiping tears, and soon you’re in your bathroom, cleaning off the little bit of make-up left on your face and taking a shower to try to clear your head. You stand under the hot stream of water for longer than usual, processing everything that happened and calming yourself down.

When you finally emerge several minutes later and dress yourself in your comfiest pajamas, you feel a little better, but still not exactly okay. To distract yourself, you pour a bowl of cereal and turn a mindless comedy on the TV in hopes of cheering yourself up.

Instead of paying attention, however, you find yourself staring blankly at the screen, consumed by your thoughts. The encounter has shaken you to your core. And while it ended before Drew could cause you any actual physical harm, you know that it will take some time for you to recover from the emotional and mental damage that he has caused you. He had no right to lay his hands on you, and the fear you felt when he did is not something that is easy to forget. You remind yourself that you are not overreacting, and that your feelings are perfectly valid.

And then there’s Sam. You feel incredibly thankful for him, but also a little surprised that he was the one who stepped in. You’re not sure why you’re surprised though. At his core, Sam is a good person. Even though the two of you have your differences, you know he would never stand by while someone else was being hurt. Including you. You sincerely hope nothing else transpired between him and Drew after you left. You would feel terrible if he ended up in harm’s way for trying to protect you.

Realizing that you will do nothing but obsess over the incident if you continue to stay awake, you make the decision to crawl into bed and try to get some sleep. Even though it takes a bit for your mind to stop racing, exhaustion eventually sets in and you’re able to get a much needed break from your thoughts.

⏭

The following Saturday, your friends send a group text making plans to go to another party that night. Normally, you would be happy to join them, but now, a party is the absolute last place you want to be. You know that if you just tell them that you don’t want to go, they’ll ask questions. You’d managed to avoid any sort of interrogation about your abrupt disappearance last weekend up until now, and you don’t really feel like reliving the experience by having to tell the story.

So, you don’t even think twice before texting them that you’re sick and are planning on staying home all weekend. You get texts back from everyone but Sam telling you to feel better, and then mute the thread when they continue planning their evening.

Over the past week, you’ve felt a little better everyday. Your anxiety has lessened and you’re able to concentrate on things that don’t involve Drew. Still, you’re definitely not ready to be in a house full of crowded people, some of which may have questionable intentions.

Since you don’t have much else to do, you decide to be productive and spend your time catching up on school work. You have quite a bit of reading to do for an exam in one of your classes next week. Surprising yourself, you get into the zone and read without interruption until close to 8 PM, when your stomach reminds you that you haven’t eaten anything since the peanut butter and jelly sandwich you made yourself around 11:30 AM.

Not in the mood to cook dinner, you pull up Uber Eats on your phone and scroll through the endless options, trying to choose between a local soup and salad place and your favorite pizza joint. You’re just about to place your order when there’s a knock on the front door of your apartment. You have no idea who it could be, since you gathered from your friends messages that they had made dinner plans for before the party and would more than likely be eating right now.

Skeptical, you rise from your seat at your kitchen island and check yourself in the mirror, making sure your hair isn’t too messy before making your way to the door. You really wish the doors in your apartment building had peep holes so you could vet your unexpected visitors before showing yourself, but alas, you’re forced to open it if you wish to know the identity of the person on the other side.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you undo the latch and swing the door open, the sight that greets you making your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Sam Kiszka, clad in a white t-shirt, the tiniest blue shorts you’ve ever seen, and Birkenstocks, stands on your welcome mat, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. His hair falls to his shoulders in perfect waves, and he is holding a round Tupperware container in his hands. He startles a bit when your form appears in front of him.

“Hi?” you say, more of a question than a statement. Why is he here? I didn’t even know that he knew where I lived...

Releasing his lower lip from his teeth, he clears his throat and responds, “Hey. Can I come in?” There’s a small, barely there smile on his face, and the only reason you notice it is because you’re so used to the cold stare that he’s usually giving you.

Wordlessly backing up, you open the door wider and allow him entrance. When he steps through the door frame, he kicks off his Birkenstocks and glaces around, getting his first look at the place you call home.

Unsure of what to make of his surprise appearance, you cautiously ask, “What are you doing here? I thought you would be out with everyone else right now.”

Sam contemplates your query for a moment, then thrusts the Tupperware container towards you. You reach out to take it from him, and when it touches the skin of your palms, you discover that the contents inside are still hot.

“I uh- I got your message that you weren’t feeling well, so I made you some soup. Loaded baked potato. Then I realized that you’re probably not like, sick, sick, that you may just not feel comfortable going out after what happened last weekend. And I figured if that was the case, then soup may still help you feel better, so I thought I’d stop by…” he trails off and gives a tiny shrug.

You’re touched by his thoughtfulness, so you give him a small smile of appreciation. “I was literally just about to order some soup. And loaded baked potato is my favorite. Thank you.”

His lips pull up at the corners even more and he sounds almost bashful when he says, “Yeah, no problem.”

The two of you stand in your small entryway, looking each other over for a second before you turn your back and walk into the kitchen, getting a spoon out from the silverware drawer. You feel his eyes watching your movements the whole time. Once you retrieve the utensil, you walk past him to your sofa, then offer, “Do you want to sit down?”

Sam doesn’t respond, just follows you into the living room and sits on the opposite end of the couch as you.

Removing the lid from the container in your hands, your nose is instantly met with the delicious aroma of the soup inside. Sticking your spoon in the bowl, you comment, “I hope you don’t mind if I eat this now, I’m starving.”

Turning to face you, Sam pulls his long, lanky legs onto the couch so his knees are practically to his chin, then wraps his arms around them. The position doesn’t look comfortable at all, and you let out a little giggle before taking your first taste of the soup.

“I don’t mind,” Sam acknowledges.

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments, you eating soup and him watching you. What’s weird about it is that it isn’t uncomfortable at all. You’re not sure you’ve ever been alone with Sam before, but you always imagined if you were, it would be awkward.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Sam breaking the silence. “So…are you okay?” There is concern evident in his tone, and it shouldn’t catch you off guard since you’re sitting here eating soup (delicious soup, by the way) that he cooked to make you feel better, but it does.

You shovel more soup into your mouth as you consider how to answer his question. You swallow, and decide it’s best to just be honest. He’s the only person who really knows what happened, so if you can’t tell him how you’re feeling, who can you tell?

“Well, I’m not like, sick, sick,” you start, “But I wouldn’t say I’m okay. I feel a little better every day, but I’m definitely not ready to go to a party.”

He nods at your answer, then sympathizes, “That’s understandable.”

Pausing for a moment, you decide this is a good time to express your gratitude to him. You’ve been meaning to text or call him all week, but chickened out each time, figuring he wouldn’t want to talk to you.

“Thank you, by the way. For what you did. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there. I just- I really appreciate it.”

At your words, Sam recoils and his face scrunches up in dismay. Voice slightly elevated, he fumes, “You don’t have to thank me! That fucking asshole shouldn’t have put his fucking hands on you! He’s lucky I didn’t beat the shit out of him…”

His face is red in anger by the time he finishes his rant, and you’re shocked at how heated he became by you thanking him. You’re also shocked that he was upset enough by what happened to you that he wanted to cause someone actual physical harm. You never would have thought that Sam Kiszka would go that far to defend you.

Choosing your words carefully, you reply, “I know that you’re not the kind of guy to just stand by and let something like that happen, it’s just- I realize that we haven’t exactly gotten along super well in the past and I just wanted to make sure you know that I’m really grateful that you helped me in spite of that. And it was really nice of you to make me this soup. You didn’t have to do that.”

Sam looks genuinely perplexed by your assertion. He has a habit of clearly displaying his emotions with his facial expressions, you’ve noticed. Eyebrows furrowed, he asks, “What do you mean we haven’t gotten along in the past?”

Now it’s your brows that are furrowing in confusion. Is he kidding? How can he not know what I mean?

Peering at him nervously, you say, “Sam. Come on...we’ve had the same friends for a couple of years now and I don’t think we’ve ever talked this much. Everything between us has always just felt so...uncomfortable. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if you even like me...it sure feels like you hate me sometimes.”

Sam balks at your answer and lets out a humorless laugh. He bows his head and shakes it back and forth a few times, then gazes up at you with a pained look on his face. “You think I hate you?” he questions, voice unsteady.

You’re taken aback by how devastated he sounds. For years now, you’ve been living under the assumption that Sam hates you. That you had done or said something or acted in a certain way that made him not want to be your friend. But he’s looking at you like he has no idea what you’re talking about. Did I misinterpret his cold stares and lack of interest in interacting with me? Did I imagine it all?

“Well…” you hesitantly begin explaining your point of view. “It’s just that, you act differently around me than you do around everyone else. You don’t- you don’t talk to me or even acknowledge anything that I say when we’re all together. You’re so nice to everyone else and it seems like you just barely tolerate my presence. And sometimes it feels like you look at me like you actually want to kill me. So I don’t know, I guess it was just hard for me to come up with any other reason for it besides you hating me…”

You wish they hadn’t, but tears have formed in your eyes during the course of your little speech. You didn’t expect to get so emotional airing out your long-held beliefs regarding Sam’s feelings towards you, but here you are, trying to prevent the watery drops from falling down your cheeks. You didn’t realize how strongly your strained relationship with Sam has impacted you until now. Embarrassment makes you avoid looking at him for his reaction.

Though you’re staring at the bowl of soup in your hands instead of him, you know Sam moves closer to you because you feel the cushion next to you dip down with his body weight. “Y/N,” he says, trying to get your attention. When you look up at him, you catch him anxiously running his hand through his hair.

“I- I don’t hate you. I don’t hate you at all. God, I- I’m sorry I made you feel that way,” he stutters, shaking his head again in shame. “It’s just, I uh-“ The tension in the room is palpable as he stops and gazes at you with a conflicted look on his face, obviously having an internal debate with himself on if he wants to continue his sentence.

He must decide that the pros of vocalizing his thoughts outweigh the cons, because he stammers, “It’s just that I- I’ve been in love with you for awhile now and I guess I just didn’t know how to deal with it? You make me nervous…”

Nothing could have prepared you for the bombshell Sam just dropped on you. By the time he finishes speaking, your jaw is nearly touching the floor and your eyes are wide. He could have told you he was a werewolf and you would have been less shocked than you are right now. The thought of Sam having any positive feelings towards you at all seems unlikely, but love? Never in a million years would you have imagined that Sam Kiszka loves you.

Your heart in your throat and your palms sweaty, all you manage to sputter is, “You love me?”

Sam scratches his nose a few times, which you’ve learned is a nervous habit of his, and chuckles tensely. “Yeah...I um- I started liking you when we were in that class together Freshman year and it just kind of spiraled from there.” He blushes as he carries on with his explanation. “I really wasn’t trying to be an asshole to you, I swear. I just, I kind of had this idea in my head that you liked Jake and I didn’t want to make things weird, so I just started avoiding you. I thought maybe if I distanced myself from you, it would go away, but so far, that hasn’t worked…”

As hard as you try, your mind cannot process everything Sam is revealing to you as he says it. You feel like you’re just gaping at him blankly for an hour before it clicks that he’s been putting on a facade to hide his feelings for you. And it worked, because it never once occurred to you that his attitude may have been a mask to prevent himself from being hurt by you, intentionally or unintentionally.

What Sam doesn’t know is that you have no romantic interest in Jake. In fact, you’ve been so hung up on overanalyzing Sam’s behavior, that you haven’t paid attention to any other guys at all. You realize now that the reason for this is because you’ve had your own crush on Sam for as long as you can remember. Before tonight, he was always so unattainable. You always thought that you just craved for him to treat you the same way he treats everyone else, but really, you wanted even more than that. You never wanted to admit to yourself just how much you liked him, because you thought you would just be setting yourself up for heartbreak. But now that he’s bared his soul to you, his closeness is making your face feel hot and causing goosebumps to appear on your arms, both telltale signs of your epiphany.

Sam’s watching you intently, waiting for any sort of reaction whatsoever. He looks more and more dejected with every second that passes by and you have not broken your silence.

Feeling guilty for invoking so much anxiety, you end his misery by simply stating, “I don’t like Jake.”

Sam frowns and croaks, “Oh.”

He again runs his hand through his wavy tresses and his eyes shift around the room.

“To be honest,” you confess, setting your soup on the coffee table in front of you, “You’re the only guy I ever really pay any attention to. I’ve kind of been obsessed with trying to figure out where I stand with you for a long time now. Because even though I thought that you literally couldn’t stand me, I um, I’ve always really liked you. I think I was actually a little jealous of everyone else because you’ve always gotten along so well with literally everyone but me…”

Head hung low, Sam peers up at you and apologizes. “I’m sorry…I feel like such a fucking idiot…”

Hesitantly, you take hold of one of his hands and find that his palms are just as clammy as yours. “No, no I- I get it,” you comfort him. “We all deal with feelings differently.”

He nods and squeezes your hand, appreciating your understanding, but then insists again, “Yeah, but that was no excuse for being such an asshole to you. You were nothing but nice to me all the time and I cared too much about myself to even realize I was hurting your feelings. God I’m such a dick, I’m-”

Having heard enough of him tearing himself down, you cut him off before he can say anything else. “Sam, stop. I forgive you. Maybe...maybe we should try to forget about how things have been in the past and just, like, start over. Things were weird before, but they don’t have to be now.”

Sam thinks over your suggestion for only a second, a shy smile forming on his lips. “I think that’s a good idea,” he agrees, then playfully reaches out to shake your hand, both to seal the deal and to symbolize your reintroduction.

You laugh softly at the gesture, but instead of accepting his outstretched hand, you throw your arms around his neck and pull him into a hug. Almost immediately, his arms wrap around you in return and he gives your body a tight squeeze, pouring all of his emotion into the embrace.

You’ve always had a feeling that Sam is an amazing hugger, and he’s proving you correct right now. His body is warm and he smells faintly like spicy cologne and his hair is silky against your skin. And the soothing motion of his hand rubbing up and down your back has you feeling more relaxed than you have since what happened last weekend. Truth be told, you could cling onto him like this forever and be content.

Unfortunately for you, Sam attempts to break the embrace far more quickly than you would have liked. You feel his hands drop from your back and the heat of his chest dissipating and you know you need to stop him from moving too far away from you.

Clutching onto his shoulders, you pull back until you’re face to face with him, foreheads almost touching. The tension in the room is palpable as you stare at each other, wordlessly daring the other to make a move. You’re not sure what you’re hoping to happen, but you aren’t mad when his palms find the side of your neck and he presses his forehead to yours.

Looking directly into your eyes, you see him gulp before he admits, “I really want to kiss you right now.”

Your pulse hammering at what feels like a million beats a minute, you smile shyly at him and whisper, “Me too.”

That’s all that he needs to hear before he touches his lips to yours. Right away, you feel a spark that you haven’t felt with any other boy you’ve kissed before. Even though the kiss is chaste, sweet and quick with no tongue involved, it makes you feel more feelings than you would have ever thought possible. At the forefront is happiness, causing a huge grin to form on your lips and your eyes to sparkle as you both pull away. An identical grin is on Sam’s lips and he leans in to plant another light kiss on your cheek before settling back on the couch next to you.

Your stomach rumbling reminds you that there is still a nearly full container of soup sitting in front of you, so you pick it up and take a bite, then propose, “Do you want to stay and watch a movie?” You’re not ready for him to leave.

Sam readily agrees, so you give him the remote to select a film while you resume eating. He finds one, but before he presses play, he asks, “Hey, would you maybe want to go out to dinner with me sometime?”

Deciding to tease him a little, you respond, “I don’t know, Sam...this is some of the best soup I’ve ever had. I think I’d much rather have you cook for me than go out anywhere.”

Sam’s face lights up and he nods rapidly, clearly overjoyed that you think he’s a good cook. “Yeah, for sure! Are you free tomorrow?”

He looks so excited, and it makes butterflies flutter in your stomach. “Yeah, tomorrow works for me,” you answer, probably looking equally as excited.

Satisfied with your response, Sam presses play on the movie, then leans back into the sofa and gets comfortable. You think to yourself that you could get used to the sight of him in your living room.

Unable to resist, you quickly finish your soup and rid yourself of the bowl so you can scoot closer to Sam and curl up into his side. His arm instantly comes up to rest on your shoulders, and you’re delighted when his fingers start playing with your hair.

At the beginning of this day, you never would have expected to be finishing the night cuddled up to Sam Kiszka. If someone had told you that the guy who you thought hated you was going to bring you homemade soup and confess that he actually loves you, you would have thought they were crazy. But sometimes life works in mysterious ways, and you’re looking forward to seeing where it takes you and Sam next.

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blankdblank · 3 years

Text

Brother Dearest Pt 37

The next month did nothing but shake the fear of losing Victor off its hinges while the pair between her acting classes filling up her free time spent as much time together as possible. Even to the pair joining you on your trips to the Museum of Natural History for your History course to complete those required essays as well Portia took turns tagging along as well for more brunches afterwards.

Halloween had been the tenth time she had slept over and started November off right bringing cooler weather and in the vanishing of the leaves snow was rumored to be coming soon. Snow that brought up calls and letters to Canada readying your trip home for the holiday break as you fended off the presumably daunting semester exams and presentation of your collected photographs for the photography club blending with the end of the first round of lessons on Asgard. Teas and dinners brought Professor Randolph over often sharing even a few tales around an encounter with Venom on that distant planet in his youth building up fragments of memories flickering in your mind like some odd connect the dots puzzle each new detail added a bit more to.

The final time together a moment was taken to smile as you read the letter from Kodak that your submitted sketch was to be published on Christmas day in the papers around the world and the photography magazines available. A colored copy of which was sent back to you with a mockup adding a sketch of the camera that you yourself used for your photography club to be noted in the descriptive section at the end of the ad.

In tears however Norma came to spend the final day before you were headed home again. Open mouthed you reached out folding your arms across her back in her fold into a hug as you eased the door shut with your mind behind her. “What’s wrong, Jeanie?”

“Everything is falling apart!” She sobbed out into your shoulder stirring your hand to rub across her back.

“Bad day in your class?” You asked hoping it was an embarrassing scene or exercise she had given to her class.

“Vic is going to dump me!”

“And just who sold you that bridge?”

In a sniffle she pulled back with lips quivering through your hand rising to wipe a mascara stained tear that slid down her cheek away, “He won’t want to be with me after this!”

“Well unless you’ve turned into a mountain lion I highly doubt he wouldn’t love you more by the day, and even then he would still find a way to keep you around. Because let’s face it even as a lion you would be stunning.”

“That’s not funny,” she whimpered out through another sniffle to another tear falling.

“I’m not joking, Vic is not going to dump you, I’ve punched him in the face mid nightmare and he still loves me. Now come in and let’s get you cleaned up and you can tell me what happened.”

A couple steps in she came after a nod only for Dawn to come into view with a hand on her rounding belly, “Who was-,” her lips parted in seeing Norma upset and she hurried over, “What’s wrong?” She asked joining you on the way to the spare bath you led her to clean her face up.

Patting her cheeks dry to her calming breaths you said, “Now, pesky mascara is handled, up to telling us what’s wrong?”

That had her lip quivering again and she said to your eyes following her hand patting on her belly in a try to form the words, “I’m late,”

Dawn, “Late?”

However you caught a heartbeat you didn’t realize in her entering hug, catching her eye again you said, “You’re pregnant.”

Dawn, “Oh that’s great news!” she said resting her hand on Norma’s arm only making her shake her head to the quivering of her lips again.

“Jeanie, Vic is in no way going to be angry about this.”

“But we just got started going steady,” She squeaked out.

“It’s been months,” you fired back.

“Vic is never going to turn away from you in this,” Dawn repeated, ��We promise. Let’s get you some tea or some juice and get you relaxed,” her grin eased out as Norma looked her over, “Your little one won’t be too far behind mine if you’re still early on. We’ll get you settled till the baby comes and we can help to start planning the nursery once we get back from Canada, of course you can come see the place and oh you’ll love it there, even more so in the spring.”

She shook her head again, “Oh I don’t think Vic would want me forced on your break like that,”

Rolling your eyes you helped her to sit down on one of the living room couches as Dawn hurried to get some drinks together, “Jeanie, I have known Vic for years now, and he will never turn you away, and you are having a baby together. He wants you to come with us, you aren’t spending Christmas alone. Plus you can meet my cousin and aunt.”

With a sigh she said, “I’ll have to tell my manager about this. I can’t get work while I’m pregnant, and after, who knows what they’ll say. And I had that audition too.”

Your hand settled on hers with a smile, “We will figure this out you’ll see, so just breathe and relax, this is nowhere near the end of your plans. You’re pregnant for nine months, let’s say seven more roughly, lessons while you wait and by next summer you could be back to auditions or projects by then.”

Norma, “But, I’d have a baby, and Vic,”

“Why don’t you let Vic show you himself exactly what sort of man he is.” Her eyes looked you over again as you inched closer saying lowly, “Look, Vic was married before, he doesn’t talk about her often, but when he was younger he lost her and their two kids. So trust me when I say there is no way he is ever going to turn away from you or your baby. James is absolutely supportive of my studies, Vic too, Dawn has a column in the paper up in Canada. Victor’ll help make sure you get to keep your dreams too. We all will.”

With her mouth open she looked you over and closed her mouth a moment for a deep breath to process the fact on his former romantic life explaining why he avoided bringing up his past romances with her. “So he’s a widower, and he lost his babies?”

You nodded saying, “It’s a lot of pain for him to carry, and it’s nothing against you for not sharing it himself, I knew him four years before I found out. James too was married and a dad before, we just have to help our teddy bears heal. He’ll never let you and your baby be anything but protected and happy. You’ll see.”

Dawn came back and with a grin passed out the drinks helping you to keep her distracted by sharing more about the house and the larger house you’d yet to furnish she was all but awed by. A call from Portia however took you away for a bit keeping you smiling at the shared trip back to her own family home with her brother who’d still been detained back there unable to meet you in your two trips to her penthouse between her several trips to your place. Each time since the first time out with her was again shadowed by Loki on his investigations of what he could learn and how to help in each of your travels to more exhibits or school related stops. With Portia just loving what you’d done with the place and everything about your part of New York seeing new things she’d yet to learn on each trip through the city you took her on. Though by the time you hung up the brothers were home and let the dogs loose walking into the path of their spreading smiles that flinched sensing something was up in the flicker of yours.

“Kitty, living room,”

“Living room?” He rumbled back lowly.

“Norma came by, a bit upset.”

His mouth dropped open moving closer, “She not get a part, or did her classes go bad? If it’s about us leaving-,”

“Go on Kitty.” You said bobbing your head to the side causing him to walk past you to the designated room leaving James there moving closer to your side with hand extended to ease an arm around your middle. Once his brother was out of sight James’ jaw dropped to your silent double tap to your chest just about making him explode with glee for his big brother. Muffled into his shirt you giggled in his tight hug. Knowing you would be right about Vic and all you’d said. And just as eager Dawn came out smiling to join the hug then hurry to go fetch Teddy for his lunch from her floor while you and James listened in from the kitchen you had moved to, cuddling in his chair with you on his lap draped in his arms.

“Nori, sweetheart, you’re here early.” He said watching Dawn’s pat on her arm standing to leave the two of them alone letting him ease down on the couch sideways beside her with his arms easing out to rest around her back and across her lap. “What’s with the face?”

Inhaling sharply she straightened up gathering her courage to say with her eyes rising to his before she would start to cry again, “I’m late, I haven’t seen a doctor, but-,”

“You’re pregnant! That’s fantastic!” he blurted out like a kid awed by fireworks the first time smiling at her widely, his greatest marvel unveiled before his eyes. Scooting closer he said, “You should come with us then, we have a doc right in town he could do the test no doubt in half the time and cost than out here. And you could see the place, it’s incredible in the winter. Tons of warm fires and cocoa and stars for miles.”

That had her grin flinch wider a moment then back again as she said, “If I am, wouldn’t that be bad for you? Baby out of wedlock? Showing me off to the town?”

“Marry me, I’ll ask better when we get out there, find you your dream ring. The girls can take you shopping whole town could help us whip up a ceremony, did the same for Dawn and Eddie in a matter of weeks before Jaqi started at Barnard. You won’t want for anything I’ll make sure of it, you or our baby.”

Her mouth was open a few moments until she could ask, “About my classes, and films...”

“I can watch the baby, when you go back to work too. Work on the comics I can do mainly from here you can ask Dawn we’re around all the time. You won’t have to stop, I will be making sure you are rested and healthy before you start up again.” his voice dipping serious a bit, “Can’t have you heading back too early and hurting yourself. So think of it as a year break, you can study up and we’ll do all we can to help you study till you can get back to classes or roles if they’re physical. I promise, we’ll work this all out. Marry me?” The question came out near to a whisper yet all the same in a tearful nod from her his smile split wider then eased back to melt against her lips in her hop onto his lap easing her arms around the back of his neck to kiss him firmly. Tight to his chest he held her for their own private celebration you stole a picture of once again from the kitchen where they eventually met you both, now at the table pretending to talk about something unrelated to the pair now with you smiling widely.

Norma broke the silence in a bounce on her toes, “We’re engaged!”

Giggling hugs were traded from you and Dawn as James fed Teddy breaking between spoonfuls to accept his brother’s tight hug with Dawn taking over allowing the pair to mutter their joy to one another on the edge of tears. Teddy in a whining pout however raised his arms once fed demanding a hug Vic gladly shifted to lift him into peppering kisses across his forehead and cheek. Those hazel eyes of his however shifted back to his fiancé with smile spreading saying, “Now, first off, let’s get you packed, hmm?”

She nodded and you said, “Ooh, we’ve got some spare coats up there for you to borrow when we get there. Trousers too.”

Dawn, “Oh and we have to pick you out some good boots too. Heels will not cut it in hip deep snow.”

While you smiled taking hold of Teddy to settle in his playpen he turned, strolling around the table to ease his arm around Norma’s back humming out, “Now, let’s get you packed and on the way we can talk about rings, hmm?”

James looked to Dawn asking, “Eddie manage those cases down earlier for you?”

Shaking her head she replied, “No, but he will when he gets home I bet. I already have our things set aside to be packed when he does.”

James chuckled turning his head to claim a warm kiss and said, “I’ll help you grab them.”

Once on your feet you sighed and said, “I suppose I should go handle saying goodbye to Father Thomas for us.”

Dawn chuckled, “Fun, sure you don’t want us to go too?”

“Nah, it’s incense day for the alter boys training. No need more than one of us drowning in that ocean of smoke.” They smirked watching you stroll to the door where you grabbed your bowknot fascinator you wore to church and once through the doors shut behind you a pause was taken for a deep breath to steady yourself then turn to head down the stoop. Once alone the façade held. All the way through town until you hit those steps and the weight of your thoughts slammed down upon you all in that moment of Norma trusting you with her unsettling truth.

Those large front doors gave easily with the right allowing you in and shut just as smooth instantly sending the misty waves on incense to billow away then back again over your now hatted self. Past the bowl of holy water you entered the chapel crossing yourself in a glance over the bodies inside, silently turning for the votive candles to light for loved ones allowing the Father to catch sight of you in your mint long sleeved dress. Joining the elderly woman in silent prayer’s bare side your eyes closed in taking a match to light a candle for your mother who you sorely needed at this moment for guidance. Shaking that match once the candle was lit through a mental prayer you added it to the used bowl and passed over a few coins into the offering box leaving the still praying woman to her solitude.

Back into the chapel you stepped returning the smile Father Thomas gave you on his way over to speak with you. Out his hand stretched and yours folded inside it to be patted across the back of it, “Miss Bunny, come to be sent off before traveling back to Canada hmm?”

“That and I suppose I have a, situation you might possibly weigh in on.”

“Absolutely,” he said with a nod of his head releasing your hand and guiding you to a secluded section of pews away from the rehearsing alter boys being taught their official steps for the big Christmas Mass for their big holiday debuts. Once settled down he adjusted the sash around his shoulders asking as you settled your hands on your lap, “What is troubling you, My Child?”

“You know Dawn is pregnant, well Victor just got engaged,” you sighed softly.

“Go on, unburden yourself.” He said with a comforting nod.

“Is it terribly cruel of me to be jealous that the other women I’ll be living with will be married and pregnant before me?” A grin cracked across his lips and you said, “And I am happy for them, I truly am, and it sounds ridiculous, but there’s something in me just screaming that I was engaged first it should be me.”

“There is nothing cruel in that. God has placed a good man, several good men in your path. There is nothing cruel in wishing to be fully bound to the man he chose for you, and further nothing wrong with wishing to bear the children he will grant you. You are in no means a seeker of attention, and many a woman feels this yearning in the wait to be wed. When is Victor planning the ceremony?”

“In the break up in Canada, in front of the Judge. Another spur ceremony.”

“Well there is peace there, neither of their ceremonies will rival yours.” He teased making you giggle and shake your head.

“Certainly not. King George now says it is to be taped.”

“Ah,”

“So if I am not smiling it is due to my focus not to trip.”

He chuckled again, “You will not trip, and for the topic of babies I do believe their presence may yet add to your patience on the matter of conceiving yourself just yet. Along with Teddy two more, babies, however a blessing, should aid in your dilemma.”

Again you giggled and asked as a moment of pondering washed over your face, “Certain people are meant to be big, right? No matter how small they might feel, there’s a purpose in it?”

“We all need hope, God’s flock require lights to see through the dark times. While you were gone, we have not spoken of this yet, when Steve returned and we held the funeral without you, there was so much pain in your absence. Pain and prayer to see you safely through, and then we heard through the Brocks of your letters and promotions. We can’t word how elated we were to hear you were safe under Eddie’s watch. Meeting a King and President, our people needed hope that a child lost to the unknown could return home to her flock again. You have rebuilt your old home and in doing so aided in the continuance of local businesses encouraging others to do so.

Viewing our own worth here on earth is rather difficult at times. ‘If you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the noonday.’ as stated in Isaiah 58 : 10. Success is not a means to salvation one may argue shepherds and those who live peaceful quiet simple lives may be grander than those heralded as Kings. And yet there is no shortage of great leaders of Men who have found God’s blessings bestowed upon them. Small or big, we all have our moments of weakness and doubts, however you were placed here among us for a reason yet to be seen, we shall all uncover them together in due time. Many a leader of Man was reluctant to take up that mantle. Hold fast to your faith, there is weight in a name and, My Child, you have chosen a mighty one. Bunny Howlett should go down in history mark my words.”

“I do believe I’ve already gone down in history.”

Shaking his head he replied, “You have not reached history yet, you are very much still in the present.” Chuckling again in your soft huff, “One day.”

Those words echoed in your mind on the way back again to the house where you strolled through to the living room finding Mr Whiskers stretching on the couch with a soft meow in greeting on seeing you. Up on his back feet he rose ready to be cuddled in your way to stretch out on the couch settling him on your chest and belly drawing purrs in his slink out to relax into each pet. “You won’t get married and pregnant on me too will you Mr Whiskers?”

Chuckles came from the doorway bringing James into view, “Ah, so there it is.” Blushing at being caught you watched his stroll closer to ease over your legs to stretch out behind you settling his arm as your pillow pressing a gentle kiss to your pink cheek, “I knew I was a catch, but I never thought I’d see the day you were jealous of Vic.”

“I’m-,”

“Kidding,” he said leaning in to kiss your cheek again. “I would like to say I didn’t expect it, however, some tearing of sleeves and spontaneous mornings were shared and I do not know if my future sister in law is so lucky as to have acquired the same precautions as you.”

“I don’t mean to be-,”

He chuckled again burying his head into the side of yours and your hair, “I know. We are all beyond thrilled for him, and hope for the best.”

Softly you sighed and said, “She is sweet, quite sincere. I do hope she won’t break his heart though. She has divorced before.”

“I have considered that, Vic has too. But there’s a baby on the way, and even if she chooses to end things we’ll be here for him and help him to get as much custody possible, hopefully meaning we’d get them and Norma could visit. For now-,”

“There’s two babies on the way.”

“Yes, how did Father Thomas take our goodbyes?”

“Very well, wished us the best, and said there’s two babies on the way possibly to deter my jealousy with the reality of having three babies in the house.” That had him chuckle again in your soft sigh. “Good things never came from women in the bible jealous over babies.”

“No, you are not in the bible.”

“I’m in the present, whereas the history into which my name will be written according to him hasn’t been made yet.”

James chuckled again, “No, it very much hasn’t. We’ll get there.”

“He does think Bunny Howlett is a fine name to have chosen.”

“I prefer Bunny Pear Howlett,” turning your head to his in its lift up from the pillow, “Keep both. Make them talk,” luring a smirk across your lips. “Fine name indeed, even finer with a Doctor in front of it and a Phd after.” He purred leaning in to kiss your cheek gaining a giggling smile from you. At the paw stretching to pass by his cheek he asked, “Excited to head home to Canada again Whiskers?” Rubbing his back in your strokes to his cheeks making the cat flex his whiskers gladly.

“Love you,” That had you smiling at James while you shifted at his side avoiding Pepper and Olive with hold of Whiskers in the truck in the convoy off to Canada.

“Love you. I think one day we might have to expand our fleet.”

“Vic has been looking. No doubt the Brocks could help to land him a deal.”

“Oh they could do more than land him a deal,” you giggled out making his smile creep wider, “How do you think this break will go? I know Erik and Edie might be a bit cautious at first.” You looked at him, “I don’t think he’s told her about his nails yet.”

“No,” he said clearing his throat, “He’s debating the best time for that, clearly protecting the baby will be best, there’s something about her health she tried to mutter at him once.”

You nodded, “So after the wedding then, out of nowhere big boom.”

He glanced your way, “You haven’t picked anything up? She does seem alluring to crowds, maybe magnetism like yours? Or Vic said she seems to glow on occasion.”

“I think that’s partly due to her powder and lotions.” Then you sighed, “I can’t put my finger on it, she does have something, something, about her.” Resting your head on his arm you said, “I bet Erik’s grown another foot.”

“I’m certain he has, growing boy. Peace has done him good.”

His eyes lowered to your finger stroking across your engagement ring straightening it, “I am glad we got him out of Europe, and King George extended the citizenship favors to them as well.”

“Be poor manners not to, us having taken out so many enemy forces for them. Papers and medals is poor payback to that, they add the pair of them and sensationalize our wedding and it might just seem closer to even for the nobles. They had to do something for the poster couple of the battle field.”

“I think we’re the only couple, not counting wounded soldiers and nurses and the like.” Making him chuckle again.

“As they would like. Can’t have them daring to make war seem a matchmaking sort of adventure.” Lingering his eyes on you he added sweetly, “We’ll face it together, if anything by the time Princess Elizabeth is engaged we’ll be old news for her wedding. You and me, better or worse. Hopefully this is the worse.” Making you giggle through his lifting one of your hands to press a kiss to your knuckles he then lowered to tangle his fingers with yours onto his thigh.

Passing through the lit up city of Alberta was the last sight of civilization in the dark night leaving just a cone of light from the headlights on the long empty plowed road until the first lamppost from town came into view and you smiled eyeing the familiar road home again. For all the pressures of school and the city dynamic with those around your house all that time was worth it to have earned a break here at your newfound home for a brief while. A call ahead had Dawn’s family had plowed the driveway for you and while the other ladies waited in the warmed car you helped to unlock and un-shutter the house with fires lit on the first floor before they hurried inside to keep warm with the animals while you helped to let in the bags.

Out of her coat however Norma shrugged and dropped it onto the sheet freeing dust into the air making her sneeze. And wide eyed clasp her hands over her nose and mouth only for a pink mist to surround her body exploding into a layer of pink rose petals that wafted through the room making Victor drop the suitcases and bags in his arms. Dawn looked Norma over and huffed, “Oh that’s just not fair.”

Wide eyed Norma looked between you all and with a grin you said, “Knew you were hiding something behind that smile.”

James chuckled moving closer luring her eyes to his iron laced bone claws extending from his fists, “No need to be scared. Me and Vic have claws, and he’s got those chompers.”

Eddie chuckled, “Not to mention they can talk to trees and animals.”

Norma looked to Victor almost in relieved tears, “I thought I was the only one that could hear plants.” Vic stole that as a chance to close the distance for a warm kiss and hug in your second trip for the last of the bags with Eddie and James. After which once the front door was locked and all the bags were settled in place she looked to you asking, “What can you do?”

Victor chuckled, “Depends what you need her to. Controlling metal, super healing, her body can shift to metal, also she can tap people’s minds, make them do things and give a good head zing to stop them in their tracks.”

James said, “Not to mention she’s got a new power of teleporting things we’re working on.”

Eddie chuckled at her stunned look over you, saying, “Sort of got a jackpot of powers.”

“Most likely to make up for my disadvantage in height.”

James, “Oh, can’t forget the strength, speed and super smelling.”

Norma’s brow inched up, “Super smelling?”

“I can smell things two blocks away. Very sensitive nose, not like their sense of smell, more animalistic than mine. So, rose petals?”

Norma wet her lips saying, “I can grow flowers, and usually I can control it, but since I’ve no doubt been pregnant I keep making petals.”

Dawn, “Well, we’ll see about keeping you from sneezing.”

She looked to you asking, “What if it happens around your family?”

Grinning at her you said, “My cousin has similar powers to mine. His mother I’m not certain of, even Erik is a bit lax on sharing her abilities, my dad had them too, so she’s bound to have some.”

Norma looked to Dawn, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be like you.”

Dawn shook her head, “Not my worries, Eddie seems to be like me, even though Venom’s latched onto him. Just hard to keep up with distractions in public for accidental slips.”

Introductions had been made and bundled warmly the confirmed pregnant Norma enjoyed another walk with Victor to show her the old house to be finished up over the summer she was excited to see once no longer boarded up. Already you had gone to choose a dress for her and had joined in on helping to ready the barn for a lovely ceremony at the end of the week.

“Shouldn’t that be higher?” you asked about the string of lights making the two guys draping it across the beams overhead smirk at the clear droop in the middle.

Dot however answered for them, “We have to droop that to secure the ribbons for the vines above first so they won’t touch the lights.”

“Right,”

She chuckled and one of the men said, “It’s alright. Halfway forgot when Eddie and Dawn sprung it on us. But we caught it in time.”

“I have run out of siblings so mine will be the last one.”

The men chuckled saying, “No trouble at all. Have seven bashes if you like.”

While Dot said, “What about that cousin of yours?”

“He is not allowed to get married yet.”

Dot giggled coming to give you a hug, “Oh come now Bunny, no one is forcing him down the aisle before you.”

“Everyone,” you muttered making her giggle again.

“It does seem like a conspiracy from the outside. Both brothers married off, and pregnant too.”

“Pepper is single so just keep your cats at bay so Whiskers doesn’t have any broods.”

Dot, “I think his priority right now is baby making. But just in case I will let your neighbors know to keep Tufty and Tafty indoors for as long as they can manage.”

“I know those two they won’t manage long.” Making her giggle again, “Oh, three babies and kittens by summer. I can feel it.” To the side you turned and went to inspect the decorations on the bar.

The tear drop pink stone on the rose gold band surrounded by small rows of diamonds was matched by a wedding band with an arch to form a crown of sorts coated with diamonds as well completed the set for the now named Norma Jeane Creed. To go with her band was a simple diamond and silver ring for Victor. Three bands coated in diamonds woven together, secured in the center with two silver antlers surrounding a diamond heard above a smaller teardrop shaped stone. Not a matching set but suited to their own tastes, and for him at least a binding pledge to be faithful to her and their child, or hopefully children should they last long enough. He now had faith she could bear him children, though still for his doubts he did not believe that her promise to him would be anywhere near as devoted to yours and James’ would be. But he didn’t mind, as their bond would always last with their babies and he would never abandon her no matter her choices to remain his or not.

All the same you stood up as Bridesmaid with Dawn with Eddie and James as Groomsmen. Nothing too fancy with no speeches at their request but ample dancing and food for the lovely intimate affair the whole town enjoyed as a sort of agreed upon welcome to town for all of you. For three days they would take up the private cabin as their own honeymoon while you set up the rooms for Erik and Edie for their arrival as his school break was beginning.

pt 38

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator ,@thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shes-a-killer-kween, @ggbbhehe4455, @xxbyimm (Hobbit x oc)

X Marvel-Cast - @himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @changlingkhat

#James Howlett x Reader OC #Victor Creed x Norma Jeane #Eddie Brock x OC #Eddie Brock #Venom #Norma Jeane Creed #Back to Canada #Another Day Another Bride #Bridesmaid Once and Forever It Seems #Shotgun Wedding

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fvaleraye · 3 years

Text

Ashes and Dust

Heyyyyyy, would you look at that... another Scintillam chapter. Ngl, I hit a creative block super hard for a while. I had several WIPs that I wanted to do, but... like, once I started them, I didn’t really feel it, y’know? So, I decided to start fresh, and just. Work on something chill. So I did! This is gonna be another Charthos chapter, I’ll probably swap back to the gals pov soon, but I’m just feeling my old cranky pyromancer man rn Also, I would like to give a big shoutout to @artnerd1123 for proofreading the chapter for me, and helping fix some stuff that i missed/didn’t think about. Tyvm, Belle... I appreciate you... Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy reading...

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The month of the Blazing Moon meant long days, and short nights. A dreadful heat washed over most of the land, as the name implied, save for the ever-chilled northern mountains, of course. The farmers across the land harvested their summer crops and prepared for the coming of fall. Though travel wasn't exactly booming in the suffocating summer heat- unless the travel led to a coast or someplace cooler- there were many who were unbothered by the temperature. The lizardfolk especially thrived during these times. On the other hand, pyromancers considered the Blazing Moon to be a holy month, if for no other reason than the fact that it preceded the coming of the Embered Moon, when the Rite of Embers would take place. To see a pyromancer out of their lands during these months was a rarity, but one could be seen walking the roads. An old, tired pyromancer. Charthos had been travelling for weeks. Magna Terra was not small, but the place he searched for was. Just a modest little hamlet in the middle of nowhere. In the Great Plains, no less- one of the biggest open spaces of absolutely nothing on the whole continent. It was easier to navigate than the Ashen Plains. No waist-high ash to trudge through. Roads were still sparse, though. And every direction looked equally identical. At least the sun was visible, that helped. And he had a passable sense of direction. And he remembered the little town from many, many years ago. It had something resembling sentimental significance for him. Something like that. Still wasn't easy to find. There weren't exactly towers scraping the clouds to tell him when he was getting close. If he was visiting one of the cities, this wouldn't be nearly as difficult. He huffed, embers and sparks leaving his old, splintered body. He watched the little sparks of life fall to the earth. At least this grass isn't dry yet. He mused. That would cause issues for the Uncharred 'round here, huh... He let out a quiet little chuckle. For a people who didn't use fire for much more than lighting the dark or warming things up, they sure did live in some flammable areas. A few suns pass, more of the same. Eventually, hints of brown wood, stone foundations, and gray smoke from chimneys started to peak over the horizon. Thank the fucking Traveller, I'm finally here. Or, well, close enough.

Another few minutes of trudging slowly on the path lead the pyromancer to the town square. It was a quiet town. Or, at least, it was supposed to be. There was a decent crowd gathered in the middle of the square, seemed like the whole town, or near enough. They were gathered around a woman in strange garb standing on a small makeshift stage. She was not a short woman- even if she was level with the crowd she would probably still peek over their heads- but she was still clearly human. At least, from what one could tell. She wore a pale dress with no sleeves, and ribbons circled her arms. Her face was covered but a wooden mask, the face of it painted with a fierce, purple visage, with horns protruding from the sides, her brown hair braided underneath it. Around her on the stage were a few other similarly dressed individuals, though, unlike her, they were silent. The woman was yelling and gesturing with all the fervor and energy of a young, opinionated priest. But she wasn't a priestess. At least, not like one he had seen. He stepped closer to the edge of the crowd to better hear what had the strange woman up in arms.

"-nd one day, they will return! The great, scaled beasts of time immemorial!" She cried. "The dragons will return, and the skies shall darken beneath their great wings, as they take back what was once, what has always been, theirs, and destroy those who presume to own their lands, their world!" She began pointing to various members of the crowd. "All of you, all of us, will be wiped from this world, like footprints washed away in a rainstorm, as the fury of nature itself descends on us, and we will all be but ashes and dust! Unless we supplicate the great scaled ones as we once did! Mayhaps, they will even see fit to elevate us to their greatness! You need only-!"

Charthos began to walk away after realizing that the one he was looking for wasn't among the crowd, as well as getting tired of the woman's screeching, and the looks from the crowd. Doomsayers. Dime a dozen nowadays... He thought, given an exasperated sigh. He stepped away from the main square, and began making his way towards the residential area of the little town. He glanced over each home as he walked, looking for one in particular. They were all very similar; wooden walls and roof, at least two windows, chimney, stone foundation raising it above the dirt... the differences were aesthetic. Some had nice curtains. Others had cleanly painted roofs, or walls. A few had flowers, whether gardens of them, or simply a few on the window sill. It was downright pleasant. What I wouldn't give to live like this again. Even if only for a time. He brushed off the sentimental thoughts as he turned to one house, practically near the end of the edge of town. It was simple, like all the others. It had purple curtains, and rather... exotic looking plants growing in a side garden. He walked up the steps, and gave the door a small knock. There was some silence, and then he knocked again, this time louder. Footsteps started approaching the door, the sounds of several locks being undone sounded past the wooden surface. After a moment, a pair of gray eyes peeked past a crack in the door. They looked over the demon-infested, wooden man, and closed the door to undo another lock. The door creaked open, revealing a tired looking woman in patchy clothes. "May I come in?" Charthos asked, hesitantly. The woman just motioned him inside, and locked the door before turning to face him.

"What do you want, old man?" She asked tersely, leaning on the doorway of the dimly lit, but still rather charming abode.

"Hello to you too, Penelope." He replied, his tone jabbing at her.

"If you're going to be like that, get out." She spit, her tired voice laced with venom.

"Aw, I feel so welcomed. Every grandfather's dream." He sighed, crouching down in front of the fireplace. "I need a favor from you, dear."

"Of course you do." She let out a spiteful laugh, still leaning on the doorway. "You never write, let alone visit, unless you need something from me."

Uncomfortable silence settled over the room, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on. The man simply stared into the roaring flame in the stone fireplace, lost in his own head for a moment that felt like eternity. He didn't want to reply. He couldn't reply. Not with anything she would want to hear. Nothing he could say would make up for anything. Even if he wasn't facing her, he could feel her gaze piercing through him, bright and furious, like a bolt of lightning.

"Are you going to say anything?" She said, her frustrated tone slicing through the silence like a dagger.

"What do you want me to say?" He spat back, glancing over his shoulder. "I'm sorry? I've said that. I've said it so many times to so many people it's lost its meaning. Want me to say I was wrong? Well I was. Too late to change anything. What can I say that'll make you happy?"

Silence settled again. No answer came. She couldn't think of one. She just gave a long, tired sigh.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." He mumbled, turning back to the fire. "What are you cooking in here?"

She raised a brow at the question. "Excuse me?"

"What are you cooking in this fire?" He gestured to what was seemingly open air above the fire. "You're not warmin' up. Not in the middle of bleedin' summer. What are you cooking?"

After a brief moment of indignant hesitation, Penelope stepped away from the doorway, and waved a hand at the fire. The once orange and yellow flames turned black and purple, and all light they once produced vanished. In the center was a now visible deer's skull, being slowly and unnaturally devoured by the flames. Black magic. The pyromancer gave a small chuckle. "You really are like your mum." He said, tilting his head at it. "... how's she doin', by the by?"

"She's fine." The witch replied, tersely.

"... I'll take your word for it." He sighed. "How's your deadbeat pop?"

She returned with a sigh of her own, before giving an answer. "Hell if I know."

"I figured as much."

The two continued to stare at the dark flame in silence, as it casted dark and unnatural shadows over the room. The shifting shapes whispered indecipherably, in dead languages. Neither were very perturbed by it, but the girl was the only one really listening. That's why it was there, after all. After about half an hour of silence, the deer skull was gone, completely devoured by the flames, and with that, the black flames were gone near instantly, as well as the shapes, and their whispering. Light returned to the room, but silence was still dominant. Eventually, it was broken by another long sigh from the young witch. "I'll say it again. What do you want, old man?" He stared quietly at the open space where there was once fire. There were no embers. No smoke. It was as if it wasn't even there. An absolute void of space within the stone fireplace. Pristine. As if it had never been used once. He took a long, deep breath. He wanted to berate her. Tell her to maybe not make dealings with these things, but it would fall on deaf ears. Same as her mother. And besides. He wasn't one to talk, really.

"I need a coal." He said, finally. His request stilled the air in the wooden home.

After a moment of silence, the witch simply leaned over, reaching a hand into the fireplace, as a dark, viscous substance started to bleed from the stone. It wormed and writhed to the space where her hand rested, and formed into a small stone-like object. Darker than black, it seemed to suck the light out of the area around it. She handed it to him wordlessly, and he took it, stuffing it into a bag at his hip. With that now in his possession, he stood up, and looked to her. "Thank you, dear." He whispered, stepping towards the door. "I'll be going now. I know when I'm not wanted." He stepped out the door, and it was shut behind him. No goodbyes were exchanged, nothing more was said. Nothing more needed to be said. As he stepped down from the porch of the humble little house and back onto the dirt, he glanced back over his shoulder. "... I love you, dear." He said, wistfully. "You and your mum. I always did. The only flesh and blood I got left." He looked to the ground, his branches swaying a bit in the wind. "... and you." He added, seemingly to no-one in particular. Seemingly. "If any harm comes to her on account of you, I will know. And I will find you." With those final, ominous words, he started his trip out back out of town, a shape slipping out of his shadow as he left, to his next stop on this little journey of his.

#Valerie Writes #Scintillam #Charthos #i'm proud of how this one turned out #and i appreciate belle's assistance...#definitely helped make the chapter as good as it is #even if it was only little things #the little things matter!#but ye #hope y'all like it #n' rebops are appreciated if u did...

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ayy-jayy-siciliani · 3 years

Text

One Year || Self-Para

When: March 23rd, 2021 ; March 22nd, 2020

Where: Pico District, Santa Monica, California; Ocean Park, Santa Monica, California

Warnings: Gaslighting, Emotional Abuse, Violence, Abuse Mention.

Featuring: Lexa and Maverick Maxwell

Like every Tuesday, AJ made his way to therapy to talk about his mental health struggles and life in general. It was nearly two years ago that he decided to go into therapy because of the haunting childhood memories coming back in flashes, but today, marked a year. It was a very serious year that he didn’t talk about, the turbulent times with his ex girlfriend, Madison. Today would be the day he’d open the letter to himself that he wrote to himself last year. It would be a day where he’d probably cry in the office and ask Lydia to lay on her lap later on and drown out the noise from the world. Either way, it was a hard day because of what surfaced back to the surface.

When he was handed the letter from Dr. T, he could feel his heart racing against his chest.

“Take your time, AJ. It’s okay.”

He nodded at the woman, biting his lip nervously as he opened the letter and took at the scrawled writing. He could remember how shaky his hands were as he wrote down everything in an account. It was a page of pain, of heartache, of feeling so useless, of feeling like he failed as a human being. When in reality, none of it was his fault.

******************

March 22nd, 2020, AJ’s Beach House.

“Luke hangs around the other two and I don’t feel comfortable having him at the party,” AJ pointed out with a concerned look as he leaned against the counter.

Madison scoffed, rolling her icy blue eyes as she made her way through the living room, picking up for the event. “None of them have been around here at all, so it’s likely Luke realized the other two guys aren’t shit and he just wanted to have fun. It’s no big deal.”

It was something Madison always said to AJ. She constantly invalidated how he was feeling, constantly made him feel like he was paranoid.

“You’re being such a Sag, chill out,” She retorted at his silence. AJ sighed, and shook his head. He was standing his ground this time.

“Nahh man. He’s real simpatico with the other two, I’ve seen it before. Even Mav’s seen them talking—“

“I mean I didn’t see that he was talking to them, bu tat this point. There’s nothing we can do. It’s mad fucked up to be like ‘jk, you can’t come because you know people we don’t like,’” She interrupted him.

At this point AJ started to back down and then said, “I’m just saying, keep an eye out for that cause he can’t be trusted. I’mma leave it at that.”

“If we’re taking back invites, then you can tell them,” Madison responded, her ice cold glare met AJ’s defeated stare. She was relentless. Always pushing, always wanting to climb the ranks. She’d do anything for a smidge of popularity. Even if it meant making him and his friends uncomfortable.

“If you want to invite them, that’s your prerogative. I’m just saying be careful what you say around him since you want to keep him. That’s all,” He finally said as he pushed himself off the counter to go grab the door, but before he could, Madison snapped. In typical Madison fashion.

“If you want to fucking tell them that they’re not invited then that’s YOUR prerogative and you can go ahead and figure out how to do that without making us look like a bunch of jackasses and making it so no one wants to come to the party because we take back invitations and don’t let people in if we don’t like the people they hang around. I’m not sitting here pointing fingers at the whole city —“

AJ had dissociated so hard, that he didn’t even realize that Maverick had walked into the apartment with the beef and cooler for the beer to where he saw the whole commotion. He looked at AJ with sad eyes, watching him get completely torn apart by that pompous bitch. Ever since she moved to Santa Monica, she swore up and down that she was queen of the joint just because her family was good at real estate, big fucking whoop.

“I mean, I was about to invite Lexa and that bitch is buddy buddy with Vanessa and your sister. Like we aren’t giving people we don’t know chances now? Like literally NONE of those guys have been around to harass you or your friends. Sometimes people like to party hop, who are we to judge? But if you want to kick him out, you can tell them and you can figure out how to do it,” She rambled.

“You know what, fuck you, Madison. I’m tired of your fucking shit. Leave AJ alone and go fuck off somewhere,” Mav snapped at her, causing AJ to snap back into reality.

“Mav, it’s good—I got this,” He said.

“Are you going to let him fucking talk to me like that, Anthony?!” Madison screeched.

“Madison, shut up, holy shit!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, his body trembling in anger.

Maverick quickly backed out at how loud AJ had yelled, as he had never seen the other male ever this angry. Madison, was stunned to silence.

“Fuck this. I’m out. Do whatever you want,” Madison finally said after a moment of silence.

“It’s not even my fucking party, so???” AJ called out.

“Fuck you, I’m out. Do whatever you want. Cancel it, send everyone home. I don’t care because I’m not dealing with this disrespectful petty bullshit,” She fired back.

“Aight, bet. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” He shrugged.

“You know how fucking toxic and fucking bullsht and petty that is? And if you don’t, then I don’t know what to say, either way, we’re done here. I’m out. I’m not doing this again. I literally said I wouldn’t do this again if it was like this, so I’m not,” She rambled on.

“Okay, so what’re you doing here then? I already told you, don’t let the door hit you on the way out. Do I need to spell it out for you, Mads? It’s over. O-V-E-R,” He said with vitriol filling his system. She attempted to go in to slap him when a hand came in and twisted her arm.

“He said it’s over and I believe he asked for you to leave, did he not, Madison?” Lexa called out.

“Ow, you’re hurting me!” She shrieked.

“And yet you were about to hurt a good friend of mine. Make that make sense. It doesn’t right? Here’s the deal, sweets” Lexa twisted the woman’s arm harder and pushed her up against the wall.

Meanwhile, AJ made his way over to the bathroom with Maverick in tow to make sure his best friend was okay.

“You’re going to leave MY city by the end of the night or I will let Gossip God in on the whole ordeal and I will make sure your reputation is destroyed and your family’s little ‘empire’ will fall to pieces at my hands. You’re done here, Madison,” Lexa responded, venom seeming through every word.

Madison looked at Lexa with contempt for a moment as Lexa continued to twist the woman’s arm harder until there was fear, and pain, in her eyes. “Do, I make myself clear?” Lexa asked.

“Crystal,” She yelped out.

With that, Madison was out the door and never to be seen again…and AJ had to be put together in order to brave through this party.

****************************************

“Dear AJ,” AJ began, “You went through a nightmare of an evening. You dumped your girlfriend after months of invalidation, of feeling worthless, of feeling less than a man. It was hard, but you had your friends to support you.”

He took a breath, and wiped a tear away. “I hope, a year from now you’ll be in a better place. That you’ll find love within yourself. That you’ll learn the good about astrology rather than the bullshit Madison fed you. You’re a good Sagittarius…you’re a good person. Don’t let her take away your power,” He continued.

“I’m proud of you no matter what. Ma’s proud of you, Ivy’s proud of you, Lola’s proud, Nonna and Pops, your whole family. Don’t let yourself feel less than because of one insecure person. You are worthy of being loved. You are worthy. Hang in there,” He breathed out and could feel the tears welling up.

Dr. T slid over the tissue box towards AJ and he took a few, wiping a few tears away and took a breath.

“How did that feel?”

“Freeing,” He smiled and nodded. “Definitely freeing,” He took a breath.

“AJ, you’ve come a long way from this. Look at you, in a committed relationship, rising the ranks in the NFL, you have a strong support system. You’re getting there, and even I am proud of you,” the older woman nodded with a smile.

“Thanks, doc.”

#sp

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ravenforce · 4 years

Text

New Dawn

Prompt: "I really loved that story (see you in a minute) and I hope that later you can make the story of Natasha x reader of how their relationship was given until arriving at the battle of Thanos I would love to read it. And I hope you crave your other stories”

Requested by: @ecruzsalaz

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 8987

Warning/s: Nothing!

A/N: Hey guys! I’m alive! I am so sorry for being AWOL for a while after posting the end of the SYIAM universe. I had a terrible writer's block, I got a new gaming console (Switch), had so many things happening at work before the end of the year, and I’ve been sick. Nothing life-threatening, don’t worry guys but I am back! Thank you for being here.

Also, I proofread this twice but if there are still mistakes that escaped me, I apologize. I hope you guys like it. PLEASE comment and/or message me your reactions. I missed it! xx

PS. I’m not sure if this can be read as stand-alone. If it gets confusing, you might need to read See You In A Minute series first. Please refer to the masterlist on my description.

***

Semi-retirement from fieldwork and mostly working on your lab at the compound is so reminiscent of your days as International Operations Director of STARK Industries. Your time is on your hands to do what matters to you the most and that’s spending time with your family. Anyone who knew you before you joined the Avengers would laugh at the idea of you settling down nicely to family life.

You and Tony were a force of nature, who comes and goes as you both please; leaving satisfied bodies but empty hearts. No one can keep you down long enough to tie you down. You’re always on the move; either galavanting the world using Tony’s private plane or crossing international waters lazily using your own yacht.

You were brought back to the present when you felt your daughter kick you under the lab table where the two of you are playing chess. You two are the designated people to man the fort while the Starks are in Miami, and your wife went to check up on Laura with Maria, Wanda, and Carol. The old you would have felt bummed to be left behind but spending alone time with your daughter is hands down one of the best use of your time; up there with being in the company of your wife, of course.

“Where’d you go, mom?” Asya asked as she surveys the chessboard; definitely planning a massacre of your pieces.

You smiled up at her because even though a lot of people said she looks like you, there are moments where she looks exactly like Natasha. Heaven knows you’re so whipped for both the two.

“I just thought of how no one from my past would ever tell you married life is where I’m headed.”

“Not even uncle Tony?” she asked as she glances up at you.

You grinned, “especially not Uncle Tony.”

Asya laughed. She has heard stories from Tony and the others about you, before joining the Avengers and before dating Natasha but she’s never heard your side of the story yet. She moved her King in preparation to make her killer move.

“Mom, would you mind telling me how you and mom met?” she asked sheepishly. “From your perspective, I mean.”

You looked at the board for a minute before looking back up at your daughter. “It’s a long story.”

”We have time,” she defended easily. Because you have, Natasha and the others are not gonna be back until tomorrow night.

You glanced at the clock. “Very well. We should finish this and order some pizza?”

Asya’s eyes twinkled with excitement at the prospect of hearing your story, as well as having greasy delivery pizza for dinner. She immediately hopped off her seat before standing at the side of the table. “Then make your move already mom, we don’t have all night,” she sassed playfully.

Yup, totally just like your wife, Venom said in your head.

You chuckled before moving your piece. “Checkmate,” you said before standing up and walking towards the door of your shared lab.

Asya gaped at the board. She was sure she got you on her hook.

Savage, Venom cheered in your head. You only chuckled to yourself.

“Coming, love?” you asked innocently. When she looked at you, there was pure adoration in her eyes and maybe a hint of fire. Surely, she’s gonna ask for a rematch in the coming days. After all, she’s yours and Nat’s daughter.

***

Eating at the huge family dining table without the rest of the family home is a tad depressing for both you and Asya. So you two decided to just bring your box of pizza at the front porch.

“Go on mom. I wish to sleep at some point in the night,” Asya sassed as she dabs the pizza with a napkin to rid it of excess oil; a habit she picked up from Nat for sure.

You laughed heartily. “Okay, okay. I met your mother the day I arrived back in Miami,” you started.

Asya knew the basics: how you were basically adopted by the Starks after your parents passed away, how you and Tony are thick as thieves; going to the same university, traveling the world until you two decided to stay in Switzerland for a while. The only time you were basically separated was when Tony needed to run the business in the US and he needed you to stay on top of the business in Europe and Asia.

***

You inhaled deeply as you stood on the pavement in front of Stark Industries Headquarters before squaring your shoulder and strutting inside the massive building. You were immediately met by Dylan an intern who was supposed to escort you to Tony’s office. Dylan blatantly stared at you through the mirrored walls of the elevator. Typical. When the lift stopped at the penthouse, he didn’t step off.

“Thank you, Dylan,” you said smiling. He looked so surprised that you even bothered to read his nameplate.

You walked the short distance from the lift to the door and was not surprised to see the most beautiful woman you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Definitely typical since Tony has a knack of choosing the prettiest woman to be by his side. After all, he chose Pepper.

“Hi, I’m here to see Tony,” you greeted politely. You had to reign in the urge to shiver and groan the moment her green eyes met yours. She’s breathtaking that you had to take a moment to compose yourself. You’re Y/N Y/L/N, you reminded yourself. You get girls as pretty as her whenever and wherever you go.

“Name?” she asked confidently, her eyes never wavering. At that moment you knew, this woman, this Natalie Rushman is different from Tony’s previous assistants.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you answered.

Natalie looked at her computer. “I’m sorry but you’re not on his scheduled meetings today,” Natalie said matter-of-factly. You tried to pout, and talk your way in but Natalie isn’t one to swoon over you. Not typical!

“Come on, Natalie. I know for a fact that he’s having lunch with Pepper right now,” you said as you walk a few steps towards the door but Natalie was lightning fast on her feet and already blocking your path.

“Take one more step,” she warned you.

You were right, this woman is something else because, at this point when you’re this obnoxious, Tony’s previous assistants would do only two things. One, they will faux put up a fight but let you in any way. Two, they will call security on you. So far, Natalie has done none of that.

You cocked your head to the side. “Or what?” you challenged her by stepping right into her personal space.

Natalie looked into your eyes before she shoved you and pin you against her table, which causes some of her things to fall and make a ruckus on the floor. She wasn’t really hurting you but her grip is strong and she’s clearly capable if you pushed her one more time. Any other time someone pushes you, you would have been mad but instead, you just started laughing. Natalie looked at you like you’ve grown another head but she didn’t let you go.

“First meeting and you’re already tied down,” Tony snickered from the door where he and Pepper are standing to check on the noise. You groaned at the fascinated look of your friends' faces.

Natalie let you go. You stood up and started straightening your navy three-piece suit.

“Fuck off,” you said before walking towards the pair.

“Not you though,” you said to Pepper before giving her a familial kiss on the cheeks.

“Welcome home,” Pepper said before shooing you and Tony inside. When the door closed, Pepper walked towards Natalie who was suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“Who was that?” she asked quietly after picking up all her stuff from the floor.

“That’s Tony’s best friend, his little sister. She has level 10 access to Tony too.”

“Shit,” Natalie cursed under her breath.

“Don’t worry she’s cool. Sometimes, even cooler than Tony,” Pepper said before walking away laughing.

***

“Mama pinned you on your first meeting?” Asya asked before breaking into fits of giggle.

“Stop! It wasn’t that bad,” you said as you throw the pizza box on the bin.

Asya walked back to the house on the reverse so she can look at you. “I’m sure it wasn’t, mom. It’s very romantic,” she said teasingly.

Very, Venom decided to chime in and gang up on you.

“I had enough of your sass, missy. You better run,” you mock threatened her. Asya squealed before running off inside the house. You laugh hard before walking leisurely after her.

***

After checking that all the doors were locked and activating the night security protocol, you walked back to the common living area only to be met by a flying pillow right in your face. You let out a very dramatic fake gasp and caught the pillow in your hand. When you looked at your daughter, already looking comfortable on her very own blanket fort.

“What happened next?” she said while wiggling her toes at you.

You held up a finger before running upstairs and rushing through your nightly routine. After exactly, ten minutes, you came down with your matching silk pajamas.

“Finally,” Asya groaned dramatically but smiling.

***

The second time you met Natalie, you didn’t expect it to be at S.H.I.E.L.D Headquarters where Fury is introducing you to the Avengers as the new recruit. She doesn’t look happy to see you there. She looked like she wanted to protest your credentials but was polite enough not to do so in front of everyone. Tony was so happy when he found out Fury accepted your application at S.H.I.E.L.D. It’s the least you can do since you failed at convincing your best friend not to join a ‘superhero initiative’.

Pepper still wasn’t happy by your “alternative solution”, saying how now she has to worry for two. Fury deemed that two heads like Tony Stark are better than one. Hence, why he accepted you at S.H.I.E.L.D. Afterall, you were the one who helped Tony synthesize the new element to stabilize and upgrade the Iron Suits. Your job at S.H.I.E.L.D is mainly at labs, helping build new weapons for the agents and the Avengers.

Word travels fast even in a secret organization. People at the labs kept wondering why you’re in there with them when you can be out there with the Avengers. A conversation that came up once when you decided to take a break at the same time as everyone. It was a bright and sunny day, the lab rats decided to eat a snack at the outdoor sitting area when the quinjet landed on the distance. Everybody watched you watch the plane come to a full stop.

“They said you grew up with Tony Stark. They said you’re as smart as him,” the one named John said.

You turned to him. “Is there a question in there?”

A younger man, named Carl, smiled. “They said you have a black belt in jiujutsu and mixed martial arts as well.”

"I still don’t hear any question,” you said smiling before taking a sip of your coffee.

“I guess what they were getting at is why are you in the labs with us?” the only other woman in your lab team, Hailey, asked. “You can be one of them with that credentials,” she continued, nodding towards the direction of the quinjet.

It’s not a new question; you’ve heard variations of it a lot of times when you were growing up with Tony. And the answer has always been the same. “Someone has to look after his back.”

They all cocked their heads to the side. “You can’t watch someone’s back if you’re too close to them. I’m better at protecting him from here; where I can see clearer.”

Your team was surprised that you’re foregoing the fame that comes with standing side-by-side Tony Stark. Then they all nodded, newfound respect shining in their eyes.

“Besides, I’m really not good at limelights. That’s Anthony’s thing, I’m more of the fly-under-the-radar type,” you continued lightly.

“You mean you’re the lab rat type,” John joked cautiously but relaxed when you broke out into a belly laugh.

***

The third time you saw Natasha was in the training room. A part of the being a S.H.I.E.L.D agent was to know how to fight. Even though you have a background on different fighting styles, you still pushed yourself to train harder. You found out a long time ago that you liked training in private and that’s how Nat found you punching and kicking at the bag until it broke open. She stole your file from Maria, she knows your credentials but something about you irks her.

“What did the bag do to you?” Nat asked from the doorway in lieu of a greeting.

You looked up at the sound of her voice and you smiled at her when you spotted her leaning against the doorway. Nat thought your smile was charming but she wouldn’t be caught dead admitting that.

"Good morning, Agent Romanoff,” you said before picking up your water bottle and chugging the contents of it.

Nat didn’t mean to but she followed the movement of your throat, down the curve of your neck to your tracksuit covered chest. You coughed to catch her attention. When she looks up she didn’t know whether she wanted to punch or kiss the smug look off your face. So what if you caught her blatantly checking you out?

“Training at this hour?” she asked holding your eyes. She’s Natasha Romanoff, she’s not gonna be intimidated just because you’re super cute.

“Yes, I woke up early for a conference call in Geneva. I couldn’t go back to sleep. So, I thought I might as well just start early," you explained.

You tried not to vomit the words but failed spectacularly. Nat thought it was adorable as she watches you wrap a protective bandage against your bruising hand.

“You’re still working at Stark Industries?” she asked impressed.

“Technically, yes. I’m a member of the board and consultant. I mostly only work with Pepper and Tony now,” you answered.

Something about Natasha renders you unable to give simple answers, it annoyed you. When she didn't say anything else, you took it as your queue to leave. You’ve heard how the Black Widow likes her space, keeps to herself and not one who gets chummy with agents.

“Do you want to train with me?” Nat asked.

Something about her voice gave away her hesitation. You looked at her bewildered at first but you grinned before dropping your bag and joining her in the mat.

Nat didn’t show it but she was glad you decided to stay. In the few minutes that you were talking, Nat found herself wanting to get to know you better. She did her own research on you because she thought you’re just another billionaire, philanthropist, playgirl but you proved yourself different. You’re modest and don’t brag about your lifestyle. In the weeks that she has observed you, Nat found that you’re also infinitely funnier than Tony.

***

Time flew by the moment Nat started throwing punches, as well as directions on how to fight better. One cat scratch on your eyebrow and a busted lip later, people started pouring in the training room for their morning exercise including Steve and Clint.

“Get those injuries cleaned and checked out at the infirmary,” Nat said before hopping off the mat and passing both boys on her way out. You didn’t see it but Nat narrowed her eyes at them, which made both of them chuckle before turning to you. Clint came over to you first, introducing himself formally.

“You got a death wish or something?” Clint asked lightly, his eyes alight with mischief.

You cocked your head to the side, not understanding the line of questioning.

“No one asks Natasha to spar or train, ever. She’s the learn-from-your-failure kind of teacher,” Clint continued chuckling.

You shouldered your bag. “I didn’t ask her to train. She did,” you said before smiling and walking back to your room to shower.

Clint blinked once, twice before he caught Steve’s eyes who clearly heard what you said. They both started grinning at each other, the same thought running in their head.

***

It’s like the world tilted off its axis ever since Nat found you in the training room. Since then you’ve been seeing her more like she stopped actively avoiding you. While you made strides befriending Steve, Clint, and Bruce; Natasha still needed a little work but that was okay. You were willing to wait until she’s ready.

It was enough that she works out with you every morning when she’s not out on a mission. It was enough that she trains you to become a stronger, faster, better agent than you already were. Coupled with your smart weapons inventions and deadly fighting skills, Fury even lets you officially join Agent Hill’s tactical team.

Nat was secretly so proud yet madly worried when you go on missions without the Avengers because she likes having your back and vice versa. You make a deadly efficient team; dare she say better than she is with Clint. She tries not to dwell so much on what it means, or what it means when her heart race when you get injured in battle, or what it means when her breath caught in her throat when you smile at her but Clint won’t let her. Clint takes it upon himself to bug Natasha, in private, to inspect these feelings.

“If you ask me, I think you may have a crush,” he said one time after you all got back from a joint mission in Sokovia. Fresh off the shower, and lounging on Nat’s bed Clint waited for her to finish drying her hair.

Even over the sound of the dryer on her hand, Nat heard him. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought and begrudgingly, she knows that her best friend was right. After all, he was one of the few people who know her best but he doesn’t need to know that, did he?

“Thankfully, I’m not asking you,” she said after exiting the bathroom and flopping down beside Clint.

Clint laughed hard and rolled onto his back. Seeing this side of Natasha makes him happy.

***

Steve figured it out next. Thankfully, he isn’t as nosy as Clint but it still annoys Nat when she sees him smiling every time he sees her talking to you.

Bruce found out after Clint not-so-subtly elbowed her when you entered the compound in crisps red three-piece suit and whispering business with Tony. You two were so engrossed with looking at your tablets, you both didn’t notice the rest of the team watching. You only noticed them on your way out. So you waved goodbye, Nat may or may not have stared at your ass as you exit the room.

“Close your mouth, Natalia. It’s very unbecoming,” Tony whispered on Nat’s ear. Nat groaned before averting her eyes and turning around to face Tony’s very smug face.

At that moment, she knew she was doomed but she’s not gonna fold to Tony Stark; no matter what.

“Not a word, Stark,” she warned.

“What? I haven’t said anything yet,” Tony defended.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“What? I think you like my sister?” Tony challenged playfully. Nat only glared at him before opening the magazine she stopped reading the moment you walked in looking like a dream.

“I mean, how can I blame you? She’s perfection. She’s smart without being annoying like me, she’s beautiful, funny and above all, loyal.” Tony said solemnly

Nat glanced up at him. At least, they can agree on some things.

“I…” Nat started. Tony held her eye, definitely waiting for her to lie and deny his accusation. “I do but keep your mouth shut or I’ll cut your tongue.”

Tony smiled amidst the definitely real threat as he sees the genuine fondness that’s usually absent in the cool, collected Black Widow’s eyes. He resolved to keep his mouth shut, for the moment, at least.

***

Nat was so sure one of the boys would rather out the moment they get you alone but a few weeks after the confrontation with Tony, Nat can see no change in your behavior whatsoever to indicate that someone squeaked. She’s secretly grateful because the last thing she wants is for your budding friendship to turn awkward just because of a schoolgirl crush.

‘It’s just a crush’ has become Natasha’s personal mantra that she recites in her head every time you so much as smile at her while passing the corridor. And while Nat resolved to do absolutely nothing about her feelings, the universe seems to have a different plan. The following weeks, the universe launched into a series of events that helped Nat ease into accepting that she has indeed fallen in love with you

First, Fury sent you and Tony on a tandem mission in an undisclosed location, which launches Nat into a full-blown panic.

“Agent Romanoff,” Fury said first.

Nat didn’t back down on her demand to send Steve or her or anyone as back up. Fury watched his other sort of adoptive daughter quietly and carefully. Nat tried not to squirm under the scrutinizing gaze of the only father figure she has in her life. Fury smiled eerily when he caught up. Maria tried not to chuckle but failed.

“Agent Y/L/N is more than capable of completing a simple mission,” Fury finished before turning on his heel and walking away. Before he leaves, he looked back at Natasha. “Stand down Agent Romanoff, that’s an order.”

Nat huffed and kicked her boot down on the concrete floor. Steve, Clint, and Maria exchanged worried yet amused looks across each other. “Sit down,” Steve gently dragged her over one of the chairs in the command center.

“She’ll be fine. Y/N is not only a good fighter but she’s also a genius,” Clint tried to assure Nat but nothing can make her sit still.

She worries about you, she worries that Tony will be too distracted to watch your back properly and she wouldn’t be there to protect you. Nat tried to reason to herself that the burning need to protect you is because you’re a part of their team, and she protects her team.

***

A few hours passed and Nat couldn’t stay and do nothing. She stood up and walked towards the same exit Fury went through. Steve caught her arm. “Where are you going?”

Nat pulled her arm back, “I can’t stay here Steve! I will find her and make sure she comes home to me.”

Everyone smartly decided not to comment on that one. They all understand that having romantic feelings for someone is really foreign for Natasha. It’ll be suicide to push her.

“Fury gave you an order,” Steve, ever diplomatic, said.

“Fuck what Nick said,” Nat nearly yelled before taking a few stomping steps back.

Back away from the door and completely caught up in her worry and fighting with Steve, Nat didn’t see you and Tony step inside the room.

“Woah! Language,” Tony said then smiled at everyone before walking directly to where Fury keeps his precious Scotch.

“Miss me, Agent Romanoff?” you asked cheekily.

Nat felt all the stress of the past few hours leave her body the moment the sound of your voice entered her ears and registered in her brain. She turned to look at you, and you greeted her with a warm smile. You were surprised when Nat stormed towards you, looking royally pissed. You were prepared for a slap in your arm for whatever it is she’s pissed at you for but it didn’t come. She immediately pulled you into a hug before she can talk herself out of it.

This isn’t the first time Nat touched you. Ever since you’ve started training together, Nat seems to always find a reason to touch you. May it be holding your hand a little longer after helping you up from the mat or laying her head against your shoulder as you both try to get your breathing back after some intense sparring session or touching the ends of your hair whenever you’re sitting close together on movie nights. All these touches though are done in relative privacy; not like this, not where the Avengers and half of S.H.I.E.L.D are there to watch.

You smiled before wrapping your arms around her strong frame. If you were being honest, the mission was easy but you’re bone-tired after that ambush at the end of your mission. Clint cleared his throat, and Nat pulled away slightly but only to assess your physical well-being. She frowned when she noted your dirty suit, the small cut on your eyebrow, and your busted lip.

“I’m okay,” you whispered without breaking eye contact.

She didn’t answer, she just runs the pad of her thumb across your busted lip before kissing you.

***

“What?” Asya yelled, interrupting your story. The two of you are lying on your back inside her makeshift fort. “She kissed you first?”

“Yes. She did,” you answered. She looked so surprised for a second before she broke into a laughing fit.

“I guess, legends are just that; legends,” Asya said merrily after getting a hold of her sanity back.

You gasped. “Hey! Have you seen your mama?” you asked in mock offense.

Asya smiled at the dreamy look on your face. She secretly loves how much you love Natasha, even after all the time you’ve been together, and apart. It was impressive.

“She’s as breathtaking as the day I met her,” you said softly. “How would I know someone like her can like someone like me?”

Asya rolled to her side and lay her head on your chest. “You’re an idiot, mom.”

“Already? I thought I was just getting to that part,” you said before kissing her forehead.

***

You still haven’t figured out if it’s lucky that Fury officially made you an Avenger after that tandem mission with Tony a week prior or a curse because now, you have to move in on the compound with the rest of the team and deal with the boys’ teasing and being around Nat more often. Speaking of Nat, you hadn’t seen her for a week after she kissed you in the command center where everyone - literally everyone - saw. Maria said Nat asked Fury to send her on a mission.

‘So, she’s avoiding me,’ you thought.

An ache blooms in your chest when you think of Nat regretting that kiss but the time you spent training with Nat every morning taught you that she’s not good with feelings. Her history, her past, taught her that love is for children. She didn’t become the legendary Black Widow by being soft and loving, she became the Black Widow by being deadly. So you resolved not to push her, as well as not push your feelings towards her. She will come around if she wants to.

***

You and Nat saw each other exactly thirteen days after the kissing incident. You weren’t planning on counting but you did because you missed being in her company. It just so happened that you’re both busy people; she’s out there saving the world most of the time and you? Well, you’re juggling being an Avenger, a S.H.I.E.L.D lab rat, and a member of the board for Stark Industries. So you don’t exactly have a lot of time either. It took thirteen days before the universe, Fury and your schedules permitted you both to be in the same room for more than just two minutes.

It was midnight, you were walking the halls of the Avengers compound to your room when you heard groaning and sobbing inside Natasha’s room. Panicked that someone was able to slip inside everyone’s defenses and attack Nat, you opened the door and went inside her room with your gun in your hand. When you step in, Nat’s seating up on her bed alone. You checked her surroundings first. When you were positive you two are alone, you holstered your gun and called out for her.

“Tasha,” you whispered softly as not to startle her but she didn’t make a move to acknowledge you.

You walked in front of her. Only then did she blinked and looked at you. It must be a nightmare, you though; based on the beads of sweat on her forehead, the sheets balled up on her fist, quick breathing and unfocused eyes.

“Y/N?” she asked as softly.

“It’s okay. You’re okay, you’re safe,” you tried to assure her but she only started shivering at your words. You sat beside her and pulled her in a hug. You continued to rock her gently and whisper words of assurance until her breathing slows and her heart rate came back to normal.

When Nat pulled back, you stood up to let her get back to sleep but she held on the hem of your suit like a little girl. You look at the fingers holding you in place and then back to her face a couple of times before she said something. “Can you sleep here with me?”

It took you a couple of seconds to figure that Nat wasn’t joking. You smiled before motioning her to lie down. She watched you peel away the layers of your suit. Had it been a different setting, you would have died from the intensity of the way she looks at you. Stripped down to your polo shirt and trousers, you started to climb her bed, only for a soft fabric to meet your face.

“Lose the pants and change into that. It’s more comfortable,” she explained.

“You buy your own Black Widow merch?” you teased her as you change the shirt she gave you.

Nat groaned playfully, averting your eyes as you start to undress in front of her shamelessly. “Yeah, a drawer full of it. I can’t resist quality,” she said casually.

“Well, you’re right. This shirt is really comfortable,” you answered after plopping down next to her.

“Told you,” she said before rolling on her side and scooting over until her back touches your front.

You’ve cuddled some in your lifetime, you can take the hint. You figured that taking hints is especially crucial to any kind of relationship with Natasha. So you learned how to read her earlier on, or at least try.

Safe and secured in your arms, Nat couldn’t help but sigh blissfully at the warmth emanating from your body, the feel of your arms around her torso, your chin on her shoulder, and your breathing against her ear.

“Thank you,” Nat half whispered half moaned.

Feeling emboldened, you kissed her shoulder. Thankfully Nat didn’t freeze at the contact. “From here onwards, know that you have me; always.”

Nat sighed. “It’s the red room,” she said simply. Something about the moment made it easy for Nat to open up.

Unconsciously, you tightened your hold against her. You’ve heard third-person accounts of the red room but never from the source. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I do,” Nat sighed out before turning in your arms and resting her head against your chest. She sighed once again before launching in the story of the red room. The sky outside her window was starting to turn purple when Nat finished telling her story and drifted off to peaceful slumber in your arms.

***

You noticed that after the nightmare fiasco, Nat is a little easier to approach than usual. She’s even more open to hanging out with you since then, which you didn’t mind because you love spending any time with her. May it be going on coffee dates (as Nat loves calling it) or training like a madwoman in the gym or sneaking out of the compound in the middle of the night to drive and get a midnight snack.

You absolutely love spending time together and getting to know each other in the process. You tried your hardest to slow down your descent to imminent heartbreak but you knew at that point that it was useless. You knew that even though you’ll only get heartbroken because Nat couldn’t possibly like a nerd like you, you’ll do it over again. Over and over and over again, if it meant you’ll always be by her side.

Unbeknownst to you, Nat had the same internal struggle about how someone like you can’t like a killer like her. She didn’t try to shove down her feelings they way she always does though. She tried but it was too late; her feelings for you sneaked up at her like an assassin. Of course, she knew she was attracted to you when she kissed you a couple of weeks ago but it was only after the nightmare incident that she allowed herself to want you for more than just carnal reasons.

You started to become a steady presence in her life, more than just a teammate. While kissing you in front of the whole team and S.H.I.E.L.D was a grand spur of the moment decision, one that she doesn’t regret, she lives for the little moments as well. She loves the way you seem to remember small details like how she takes her coffee, or the way you subtly take care of her by always cleaning her weapons too before going on missions, or the way you always pack a spare jacket just in case you finds yourselves on the eye of climate change. She loves the way you easily make her feel safe and calm. She loves the way you weren’t shy to deviate from the headstrong, broody character everyone knows you are and make a fool out of yourself just to make her laugh.

***

The only problem was, you both suck at talking about your feelings, let alone admitting them. You had the same but lowkey reputation with women like Tony, and she’s the Black Widow; Miss love-is-for-children. Everyone tried to help both of you confess; Tony and Maria tried to help you tell Natasha your feelings while Steve and Clint tried to help Nat ask you out but the world seems to have a crisis every time one or both of you decides to make a move.

“Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something,” Nat sighed as she walks to the quinjet after being called for a mission with Steve and Clint.

“I never pegged you to believe in signs from the universe,” Clint teased lightly.

Steve narrowed his eyes but Clint was never scared of Nat’s wrath. Besides, Nat was too distracted to be offended.

“Let’s just finish this shit as fast as we can,” Nat replied offhandedly while buckling herself in.

“We haven’t even left yet,” Steve said. Lips tugging upwards subtly. He likes seeing this side of Nat.

“I know, and I miss her already.”

***

“Wow,” Asya burst out; interrupting your story, again. “You two are,” she paused to search for the right word in her vocabulary.

Saps! Venom supplied.

Asya giggled. “Correct! You two are saps!”

You don’t know the half of it, child, Venom complained. It’s disgusting.

You laughed so hard, the walls of your makeshift fort shook.

***

The team tried to finish their assignment as fast as they could but it still took them five days. Five days with no communication with you made Nat almost jumped out of the quinjet the moment its tires hit solid ground. Clint and Steve just chuckled as they watch Nat power walk towards the compound. When they caught up with her, Nat’s frowning so hard on her phone.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked tentatively.

“Y/N’s not home,” Nat replied, clearly disappointed.

Before anyone can say anything Nat’s phone alerted her of a new message. Nat’s frown only deepened.

“I’m gonna guess. Not Y/N?” Clint asked teasingly.

Nat locked her phone before putting it on her back pocket. “No, it’s Maria. She said they’re at Stark Stadium. They need us to fill the Starks team.”

A couple of S.H.I.E.L.D agents passed by. “Let’s check it out. Agent Johnson said, Agent Y/L/N’s team is hot,” one agent said, not realizing that the three Avengers were on the other side of the room.

“What do you expect? Agent Y/L/N is hot,” another answered. The other two laughed.

Nat gritted her teeth before clearing her throat to announce her presence. The agents turned around so fast, the boys wondered if they had whiplash.

“Don’t you have better things to do, agents?” Nat said sternly.

The three agents gulped, nodded and scuttled away like ants on fire. Natasha watched them until they disappeared in the corner.

“Calm down, Nat. I’m sure they’re not that hot,” Clint tried to assure her as he stirs her to the direction of the garage.

***

Clint gulped when she saw who you were teammates with.

“Not hot, huh?” Nat said eerily calm as she watches you with your team.

Out of your S.H.I.E.L.D uniform, and in your black and red number 13 jersey you looked so much younger, more carefree. Nat smiled internally. She realized that as much as leather-clad Y/N is hot, she much prefers you on casual clothing because you look happier.

“How am I supposed to know Y/N’s friends with a lot of stunners?” Clint defended with a pout.

He knows there’s a flaw in his defense. Of course, you’ll be friends with a lot of beautiful people; you’re basically brothers with Tony Stark. You’re smart, funny, and beautiful too. Naturally, people gravitate toward you.

Nat put her hand up to silence Clint. Clint and Steve followed her gaze back towards the field where a certain blonde, wearing the same black and red uniform jogged towards you and tackled you in a hug. Nat watched as said blonde didn’t let go, and worst of all casually planted a soft kiss against the side of your face; dangerously close to your mouth.

“That’s Sara Lance, heiress to Lance Corp in Star City. Y/N’s last real ex-girlfriend,” Maria suddenly spoke beside her. “Also, I’m sure you’d like to know, she declared she came here to win Y/N back.”

Nat balled her fist before walking towards Tony’s side of the pit.

***

“Give me a uniform,” Nat demanded.

Tony laughed so hard, you heard it from across the field.

“I had a feeling you’ll want to be on my team,” he said before handing Nat a shirt with your last name on it.

Nat quirked an eyebrow.

“How am I supposed to know you’re coming back in time for the game? This is Y/N’s new uniform but she insisted on wearing her old one. So you can have this one,” Tony explained.

Steve face-palmed at the sheer dumb excuse but also the ingenuity of it. Stark has a parent-trapping game, Steve can give him that.

***

The game was supposed to be a ‘friendly’ match between the two tech giants but for some reason that escaped you, it was intense from the start. Sara refused to be subbed by Maria and played head to head against Natasha, which you definitely didn’t know played soccer.

“I didn’t know you play,” you panted out as you run the ball towards the goal with Nat running close beside you.

“You don’t know a lot of things about me,” Nat said as she tries to run and tackle you.

You scrunch your brow together but didn’t stop running. Before Nat can make try to take you down again, Sara came barrelling towards her; allowing you to run freely to your goal.

Score for Lance Corp! Amaya, Zari and Gideon crowded towards you. So you were unable to see Nat and Sara glaring at each other as they dust their uniforms off.

“So, you’re the Natasha Y/N can’t stop talking about,” Sara said candidly. “I’m Sara Lance, Y/N’s girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Natasha said deathly calm but Sara was never known to be easily scared.

Sara smirked. “Maybe but not for long,” she said confidently before running away to join your little group hug.

Nat frowned deeper as she watches Sara pull your body against her lit form and you seemingly unperturbed about it.

“Take her word seriously,” Tony said suddenly from behind Natasha. “If Lance is here to take Y/N back, she will do it. She’s smart and tenacious. So, play your cards right.”

“Play your cards right? That’s your advice?” Steve questioned incredulously. “I think you should just ask her out after the game.”

“Trust me, Y/N can’t be wooed by flowers, chocolates, and fancy dinner. People tried,” Tony said after rolling his eyes.

Maria sighed, which prompted everyone to look at her. “Got unsolicited advice for me, Hill?” Nat asked teasingly.

“Stop running away,” Maria said as she stood and get ready to get back on the field. “You kissed her and then disappeared for a week. You made her feel like you didn’t want her.”

The three gaped and watched the elusive Deputy Director as she runs back to the field and high-five you. Steve patted Nat’s shoulder before jogging back in too.

“I guess Hill trumps all our advice. Now come on, we have asses to kick,” Tony relented.

***

The game ended with Stark Industries winning, Nat wanted to gloat but none of the Lance Corp women seem to mind losing at all.

“Congratulations,” you whispered behind Nat. Nat tried to suppress the shiver but it was too late, she knew you saw it by the smirk on your face. She smiled at you.

“Thanks. This would have been more fun if you played in our team,” Nat said crossing her arms in front of her chest.

You shook your head. “You don’t mean that. I know you like that you bested me,” you said smiling.

Nat glanced at you before grinning. “You’re right. I did,” she admitted.

Your heart seemed to flutter every time Nat smiles at you like that. You wanted to say something, you wanted to pour your heart out to her at that moment but Sara yelled for you. Nat sighed heavily, and you gave her a sheepish smile. Sara yelled your name again, now louder and closer. Before you turned around you, Nat reached out and held your hand.

“Lance, stop yelling. I heard you the first time,” you said casually.

Sara ignored you and zeroed in on your joined hand. You tried not to squirm as the two sized up each other. Suddenly the room felt too quiet.

“Did you need anything urgent, Lance?” Nat snapped.

Sara peeled her eyes off your hands in Natasha and smiled sweetly. “Care to show this girl a good time?”

Nat rolled her eyes as Sara blatantly ignores her and flirts with you. You wanted to say that the city only became fun when you met Natasha. You wanted to tell Sara that fun isn’t about drinking yourself to stupor anymore, or getting high on your boat while you two cross the Atlantic. Instead, fun is making breakfast together with Natasha, training and kicking each other’s butt in the gym, sneaking out in the middle of the day to get a massage with Natasha, napping and cuddling Natasha, going on coffee dates with Natasha.

You wanted to say all that but your friends from Lance Corp came all the way from Star City to spend time with you and Tony. The least you both can do was show them a good time. You caught Tony’s eyes behind Sara, he smiled at you. The kind of smile that says, ‘I got a plan’. Sara caught the interaction and she knew they’re in for a long night.

“Get ready to party, Lance,” you said grinning.

***

The Avengers are not new to Stark parties. What they - especially Natasha - wasn’t ready for was you on party mode wearing the skinniest leather pants, tight black backless halter top, and boots. You arrived fashionably late with Maria.

“Mission accomplishes, agent,” Maria whispered as she watches Nat and Sara practically drooling the moment they laid eyes on you. You ducked your head to hide the faint blush creeping up to your neck and cheeks. Dressing up was Maria’s idea.

Nat was about to stand and walk towards you but Sara beat her to it.

“Patience, little spider,” Tony sat crossed leg beside Nat the moment Maria joined their table without you.

Nat turned to look for you and she nearly crushed the glass on her hand when she saw you dancing with Sara. It doesn’t help that Sara’s not only standing way too close but she also has her hand secured against your hips. Sara caught Nat’s eyes from across the dimly lit ballroom. It almost took every ounce of her self control not to go there and claim you but she didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

Nat breathed in deep before taking a swig of her drink. Tony’s right, she has to be patient. Unfortunately for Nat, Sara was planned to monopolize you all night. Two hours after you arrived but Nat still hasn’t had the chance to at least talk to you. She had to step out.

***

When Nat opened the door to the back of the club, she was surprised to see you leaning casually on the adjacent wall; a bottle of water in hand.

“Took you long enough,” you chirped before opening the bottled water in your hand.

Nat scrunched her eyebrows. “What? How?” she stuttered out.

You smirked at her over the rim of the water bottle. “You’re not the only stealthy one, Tasha,” you said an octave lower than your speaking voice.

Nat bristled, “I thought you were with Sara?” She didn’t even try to hide the edge and tightness in her voice.

“I was then I missed you,” you said earnestly before walking towards her.

You left two feet between you. She didn’t say something for a minute, she just continued to frown at you.

You studied her for a minute before you decided that Nat’s really not in a bad mood. “Aw, are you jealous?”, you teased lightly.

Nat frowned deeper. The blatant ‘no’ is at the tip of her tongue but she didn’t want to lie, not to you; never to you. She held your eye before whispering a breathy, “yes.”

You stood toe-to-toe with her. You cupped her face on both of your hands. Nat held her breathe. “There’s nothing to be jealous about, Tasha.”

Nat couldn’t help it any longer. She pulled you by your hands on her face and wrapped you in a hug. You chuckled before wrapping your arms around her steady shoulders.

“I love you, Y/N,” Nat blurted out.

She expected you to freeze at the mention of the words. After all, you’re both allergic to love but it didn’t come. You stayed relaxed in her arms, and she can feel you smiling over her shoulder. She pulled back a little to look at you.

“I love you too, Tasha,” you said before planting a soft kiss on her cute nose. Nat chuckled, had it been anyone else, she will be annoyed but can’t with you. “Now, let’s go eat. I’m hungry from all that dancing.”

Nat watched you walk out of the alley and into the street for a minute before jogging up to you. “Wait, does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?” you heard her call after you.

“Hurry up or this will be the shortest relationship ever,” you joked.

Nat mocked gasped after catching up to you, just in time for a cab to sidled next to both of you. You were about to reach for the cab door when Nat pulled you back and pulled you in for another bruising kiss.

The cab driver rolled his eyes playfully but waited for both of you nonetheless.

‘Ah! Love’, he thought to himself and smiled.

The kissed lasted for a minute. Only breaking away from each other after the need for air persisted. You peered at Nat’s eyes lovingly. At that moment, on the side of the street with a very patient cab waiting for you, you decided Natasha will be the last woman you’ll ever be with. You’ll make sure of it.

***

Asya let out a soft ‘aww’ and nothing else. You listened to the steady rhythm of her breathing and you knew she has fallen asleep. You smiled down at your little miracle, and just before you could close your eyes your mobile phone vibrated next to you.

Wife: I hope you’re not feeding our daughter junk food. Much. I love you, see you tomorrow.

You: I did not. Much. I miss you, I love you. See you tomorrow. xx

#raven writes #avengers imagine #mcu imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanova x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanova x you #natasha romanov x you #black widow x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanov imagine #natasha romanova imagine #black widow imagine #see you in a minute

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spiltscribbles · 5 years

Note

combo of 7 & 8 for pynch hehe :)

Notes: Thank you so much love!!! | Send Me A Prompt

“It’s the last straw! I’m done! I’m over it!” Blue stabs the spoon into her yogurt, teeth clenched, and knuckles white. Adam, like the good friend he is, just calmly slides it out of her hand and gives her a banana instead.

“She’s not that bad of a roommate,” he tells her with a one armed shrug. The look she shoots him can only be described as the personification of betrayal. Adam can’t believe it’s the third time he’s rolled his eyes at her and it hasn’t hit nine in the morning yet.

“They were naked Adam! Nude! Birthday suits!”

“The biblical state,” Henry tacks on and Blue nods along graciously.

Make it four times before nine in the morning.

“It’s Orla…. She’s eccentric

“It was on the couch! I sit on that couch Adam!” blue hits her hand against the table, fully indignant now.

“I really would recommend having it at the very least steam cleaned before partaking in that activity again,” Henry advises sagely as he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Oh no! No way! I will never sit on that couch another day of my life!”

“Glad to see you’re taking this reasonably,” Adam says, voice blithe, as he brings their cereal bowls to the sink.

“Don’t start with me Adam! You haven’t seen the things I have! The freckles and birthmarks— The hair.” Blue shutters and henry slings an arm around her slim shoulders in comfort, clucking his tongue all the while.

Fifth…. It’s been the fifth time now.

“So how do you reckon you’ll live in there without sitting on the couch ever again?” He needles with a quirked brow, fully having decided to just fall into the dramatics. It’s always easier for him at the end of the day when just excepting it.

“I’m moving out! Duh.”

“Oo, My Blueberry is becoming her very own American woman!” Henry preens. “Let me get you a chic new outfit Sabrina style!”

“That movie is sexist and culturally appropriates middle eastern garb.” Blue sniffs.

“Good to know that the new Blue has still got all her old spunk.”

“You’re both ridiculous,” Adam tells them, lips pinched.

“We bring bursts of color into your otherwise stale existence,” Blue argues loftily.

“Ridiculous,” Adam repeats with feeling.

“Lying doesn’t become you my dear Henrietta Prince,” Henry tells him far too frankly before turning his attention back to Blue. “You know you’ve got a place here if you want it.”

“Where?” Blue snorts. “In your living room?”

“Our couch doesn’t have naked Orla germs,” Adam offers halfheartedly.

Blue just levels him with a unimpressed look, and Adam’s got flashbacks to junior year when Maura caught the pair of them getting drunk off Persephone’s peach wine coolers.

It’s terrifying.

“Charming. But no need, I’ve already begun sifting around for places nearby that are looking for a new roommate.”

Adam takes the papers she’s already printed off and begins shuffling through them.

“This one has like five cats,” he tells her with a curled lip.

“It sounds homey.”

“You’re allergic,” Adam rebukes.

“I’m desperate Adam!” Blue reminds him.

“This one has a picture of him wearing a MAGA hat on his facebook profile pic,” Henry informs her, holding a second listing.

“Okay not that desperate,” Blue crumples it up and tosses it to the side. Adam would tell her to throw it in the trash like an adult but reasons she’s having a moment.

“Mmm, what about this one,” she waves around the paper and Henry takes it to look over himself.

“It’s with three random dudes.”

“Three normal looking dudes,” Blue presses. “And so to reiterate, I’m desperate.”

“Ted Bundy was a normal looking dude,” Adam charges, making Blue glare at him menacingly.

“Adam I can still see flesh in my nightmares!”

Sixth, sixth time he’s rolled his eyes. Jesus fucking Christ Adam is gonna be sent to an early grave because of an aneurism from them.

The problem is that when Blue sets her mind on something, not even the angels above can dissuade her from it, so that’s why Adam spends his Saturday afternoon— the only one he’s had off from a shoot in literally three months— driving to some sketch apartment with her and Henry, in the latter’s abrasively flashy sports car.

He feels like a fraud.

“Blueberry are you sure you put in the right address?” Henry asks, face scrunched in confusion once they cruise into the open parking spot in front of a dilapidated looking manufacturing building.

Blue flickers her eyes back down towards her phone before glancing up with a sure nod.

“Look it says Monmouth right over there on the sign near the front door. This’s the right place.”

“Right place to get murdered,” Adam intones darkly.

Blue only tosses him a glare before slipping out.

“Are we bad people for going along with this?” Henry asks Adam, his mouth downturned in concern.

“Nah, we were bad people long before this.” Adam assures him wryly before following suit.

“I don’t want a new roommate,” Ronan tells Gansey for the third time in the past hour. In turn, Gansey only rolls his eyes before trying to stuff the old pizza boxes into the trash can. God fucking damn it, Helen’s right, they do live like pigs.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Noah contends. “It’ll bring some new energy in this place.”

“Oy, what did I tell you about saying shit like energy and chakras.”

“That’s it’s something a douche hipster would say and you’d throw me out a window if you heard it again.”

“And yet.”

“All I can say to that is dude you need to clear your chakras.” Noah says, fully goading, and making it so an unexpected laugh tears out of Ronan, the total prick.

“For the love that is all holy and right, will you two please just attempt to act normal when she gets here.”

“It’s a girl?”

“A girl with models as friends,” Noah perks, completely beaming. “And you know what that means,” Noah winks and Ronan, for the good of the public, cuffs him on the back of the head. Hard.

“You fucking sly dog, how do you even know that?”

“Preliminary interview through the phone,” Noah shrugs. “She sounds nice, better than living with that guy with a pet snake.”

“That snake was fucking cool.” Ronan argues.

“There’s a one pet limit here, and your raven has taken the slot.” Gansey huffs, hand on his hip like Aurora would do if Ronan and Declan were being especially rowdy. “And Noah don’t ask about her model friends, that’s creepy.”

“That’s kind of my shtick man.” Noah points out, wide eyed.

“Less horror film creepy and more loser from Revenge of the Nerds creepy,” Gansey clarifies scoldingly.

Noah swallows down a lump, properly cowed.

It’s right then when the doorbell rings and Gansey frantically puts in the last of the empty cups into the dishwasher from the sink before scurrying to the doorway, Noah and Ronan on his heals.

Ronan knows he lost the battle and the war the moment the door swings open and the first thing the pixie sized, colorfully dressed girl says is a glowing “Blank 182?” While gesturing towards Noah’s… Well Noah’s everything.

Noah looks like the cat who’s gotten into the cream, Gansey looks more glowing than usual, and Ronan can’t take his eyes off the sandy haired boy she’s brought along with her.

Living with Blue is a beast that Ronan can’t quite figure out how to defeat.

She, probably like any sane person, expects the house to be in some sort of semblance— aka no more jackets and other innocuous articles of clothing thrown about the shared living space, and for dishes to be rinsed after use and put into the dishwasher accordingly.

“Your rooms can be as trashy as you want, but can we please not make the whole place a pigsty,” she had sniffed with a cocked head and jut out hip. Gansey of course nodded giddily— on account to his staring at her all moony ever since meeting her— Noah had shrugged, indifferent. But Ronan held out as long as possible, sneer on his lips. But alas, she met his every zig with a zag and he found himself in a stalemate.

But Ronan could deal with the tidiness and even the impromptu yoga sessions she holds with randoms from her classes at university. Hell he could deal with her weird obsession with Yogurt too, and can actually listen to her rants about the patriarchy and institutional blocks that keeps the impoverished and people of color and women down from being able to achieve feats once only meant for wealthy white men. Fuck, Ronan’s come to think her particular brand of spitfire humor is actually hilarious.

So yes all of this is fine. But with Blue comes them. Henry Cheng, best friend she met at some art class her freshman year. And fucking Adam Parrish, apparently someone she’s known for so long and so intimately that she refers to him as family more often than not.

And yeah. Ronan is not jealous and Noah needs to take that fucking sneer off his face.

“You’re jealous!”

“I am not jealous!” Ronan yells emphatically for the fifth time.

“Ronan has a crush!”

“Noah God so help me!” He threatens, totally venomous.

“You’re in loveee!”

“Noah I will destroy you!”

Okay so Ronan might be sorta, kinda, not jealous…. But bothered. Yes Bothered. He’s bothered because he can’t fucking figure out Blue and Adam’s deal. One second they’re sniping at one another about the economy and the next she’s lying her head in his lap while he’s carding a hand through her hair.

Fucking salacious shit.

But occasionally, on especially good days, Blue falls asleep early and instead of going back home right away, Adam stays. He stays and he shares a drink with Ronan on the porch and they talk about nothing really, but also a lot of things. Ronan find’s out he basically grew up with Blue, that she was his first everything. He’s deaf in his left ear and he didn’t mean to fall into modeling but he didn’t have enough money to finish the semester at MIT and instead of giving up he took up some side gigs which eventually culminated into a career of his own.

Ronan finds out that Adam’s favorite flavor of ice cream is cow tracks and his front tooth is chipped from behind. Adam has a small, crooked smile and when he laughs its more breath than sound and its absolutely lovely.

Ronan finds this all out but still has no idea whether he has a shot.

And again, he’s bothered.

“I vote on something classic,” Blue tells them with a sip of her shake. (Read the shake Adam bought but Blue somehow still always drinks half of even while she complains about being on a diet, which then leads her to grouse about how Adam stays narrow and lithe even if he eats four quarter pounders back to back).

Sadly, this happened once and only once when Adam was especially stressed over a finals week and hadn’t eaten for literally three straight days.

She really has seen him at his worst.

“Ooo, let’s watch some singing in the rain! I’m ready to belt out some toons.” Henry crows.

“Oh well if it includes your perfectly pitched singing,” Adam says flatly. Blue promptly elbow checks him and Henry waggles his tongue out.

“Sounds good to me Henry, so where?”

“Your place?” Adam says, brow kinked and trying to smother down the hopefulness in his voice. Of course, it doesn’t work. They know him better than anyone else, and they immediately stick him with matching smirks.

“Pray tell Parrish, me and you have the better entertainment system by far, and yet you’ve been insistent on heading to Blueberry’s place for our weekly movie nights for the past two months…. Hah, I wonder what two months signify?”

“Ooo ooo! I know Henry, I know!” Blue teases swinging her arm up high like an excited school girl. “I just moved into Monmouth and Then Adam over here got all slack jawed and goofily eyed over my scary roommate!”

“Blueberry gets the point!” Henry squawks, giving her a makeshift bracelet out of the straw wrapper.

Adam looks at them both with as much fury as he could muster, cheeks infused red, and jaw locked.

In retort, they only laugh ebulliently.

Adam is so tempted to make new friends.

Ronan opens the door on a random Thursday afternoon a week later and Adam steels his nerves, not about to back down.

“Oh, ah Parrish.” His prominent brows furrow together, suspicious. “Maggot isn’t here yet.”

“I know,” Adam says, head tipped high. “Can I come in?”

Ronan only shrugs as he moves aside to give him the room to enter.

“You look like you have something squirming up your ass,” Ronan tells him, as blunt and as crass as ever.

Adam silently questions to the universe why is it that he’s so resoundingly attracted to him for that.

“You’re so eloquent with your words Lynch, you know that?” Adam tells him, completely flat, and making it so Ronan’s answering grin is something feral and amused.

“So you gonna just stand there looking pretty or actually get it out?”

“Jesus Christ, do you have an ounce of patience in your entire body?”

“I sweat it out at the gym, you wouldn’t know that skinny.” Ronan barbs, hip checking him while he struts to the kitchen.

Adam just glares after his form… His well built and deliciously broad shoulders.

“Still got enough muscle to beat your ass,” Adam teases and Ronan leers, impressed. Adam walks closer, magnetized.

“So Blue’s enlightened me about something.”

Ronan hikes up a brow, betraying his mask of indifference.

“Is that right. What? Did Maggot make you understand that the hand holding and lovey-dovey looks are getting abrasive?”

Adam is utterly confused to what he’s talking about— Did he find out about the crush, and if so does that mean he’s already, wordlessly rejected Adam. Is Ronan completely uncomfortable right now.

Adam shakes off the questions, is determined to just plunge in for once in his life without beating a situation to death with analysis.

“She’s enlightened me that my crush on you is getting to ridiculous levels of yearning and i should just ask you out like an adult.”

A thousand different expressions pull at Ronan’s face until finding landing at something Adam can only call aw.

“Oh— Ah, wait. Wait do you like me?”

Adam rolls his eyes heavenwards. God he really is going to get an aneurysm.

“You are such a doofus,” Adam sighs before inkling his head forwards and kissing Ronan senseless.

Ronan grabs his head and presses impossibly closer.

Later that night, when Henry and Blue march in with the decided upon movie they both begin to preen at the sight of them, exchange bills with Noah and Gansey too.

Again, Adam is going to be sent to an early grave. But hey, if in the meanwhile Ronan does that thing with his tongue, Adam will at least enjoy his final earthly days.

#PYNCH #ADAM PARRISH #RONAN LYNCH #THE RAVEN CYCLE #Spilled Ink #rainy day prompts #SPILT INK

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collectionofdestiel · 4 years

Text

“It’s a break.”

“You don’t sound like you believe that.”

Castiel closed his eyes, knowing that his brother was right. Why else would he be in Gabriel’s kitchen a little after one in the morning with a duffel bag of clothes and fresh tear stains on his cheeks? How could this be just a break when Castiel’s heart has been breaking for months now and all that is left is an empty hollow shell of an organ. No, he didn’t believe it. He didn’t believe those three little words, not as he whispered them like a madman’s mantra on the drive over here. But if he admitted it, really truly believed that this wasn’t a break… Castiel feared he wouldn’t be strong enough to handle it.

Gabriel let out a sigh at the deafening silence. It broke him to see his younger brother battling so hard in his mind when the reality was so heartbreaking. Taking a deep breath and moving his eyes over to the clock on his oven, he decided tonight wasn’t the night to hash this out.

“The guest room is all set up. Lotta pillows and blankets. Get some rest and we can discuss this more in the morning.” Standing up, Gabe waited to move until Cas did.

But Castiel couldn’t move. It was like his bones were concrete and his skin would rip at the slightly movement. It was like everything that was holding his body together would suddenly collapse and he would be only a puddle on the floor. If he moved, if he slept in a bed that wasn’t theirs… it would be the beginning of the end.

“Listen, Cassie-”

“I love him, Gabe.” Castiel finally opened his eyes and stared up at his brother with the look of a man starving for happiness. “I love him and he-he-”

“I know.” Gabriel knelt down in front of his brother and set a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I know you love him but dammit Cas, this isn’t good for you. Or him. I know that you two love each other and would go to the ends of the earth for each other but this isn’t healthy and some times people can love each other and not end up together.”

A harsh sob ripped through Cas’ throat before he could stop it. “I can’t let him go. I can’t. I can’t let him go, Gabe, please, I can’t-”

Applying more pressure to Cas’ shoulder, Gabriel pulled his brother off his chair and held him to his chest on his kitchen floor. He rocked the other man for minutes as they both tried not to cry, Cas mumbling and pleading to a deity that it would be ok and everything would work out, and Gabriel clung to his brother and pleaded with every fiber in his being that he would be ok.

“It’s more than a break.”

“Okay.”

Castiel felt the life seep from his pores as he stood in the doorway of his brother’s living room and said what he had been dreading to say as he lay sleepless the night before. After hours and hours of thinking about the past decade of his life, and the smile that used to mean everything to him, he made himself realize that it was over. It was all over. The life he built, the home he shared, the garden they tended on warm summer days… it was over.

“I am going to call him. Make arrangements to get my things.” Cas felt the sour taste of bile start to eat at the back of his tongue. “Do you mind if I stay here for a few days until I get back on my feet?”

“Days? Little bro you can stay as long as you need.” Standing from his place on the couch Gabriel walked up to Castiel and pulled him into a firm hug, scared he might slip away in despair if he didnt ground him right then and there.

Castiel leaned into the warmth and closed his eyes. “Thank you, Gabriel.”

Smiling sadly, Gabe pulled back and looked into Cas’ eyes. He searched them for any spark of the man he grew up with, the love and excitement that always shown through the deep blue, but found nothing except emptiness. Trying to keep the tears from gathering, he turned and made his way into the kitchen for a sweet treat.

Castiel reached into his pant pocket and pulled his phone out. He stared at it for a little while, watching his reflection in the black mirror. Last night he had been so emotional and stuck in his own head that he hadn’t checked for messages or calls. There wasnt really a part of him that thought his husband would have looked for him or cared.

Gathering any energy he had left he pressed his thumb to the side of his phone and the bright light met his eyes. Gasping softly he read quickly through his notifications. There were thirty seven missed calls from his husband, and more ninety nine plus text messages. Feeling guilt start to seep into his bones, Cas slid open his lock screen and pressed the number that used to bring him comfort. Closing his eyes, he pressed the phone to his ear and listened with a heavy heaving heart as it rang.

The second it picked up he knew that this was going to be the worst phone call of his life.

“Cas!?” His husband’s voice ripped through the phone so abruptly Cas flinched.

Clearing his throat, he tried to remember the speech he had prepared last night. “Dean-” “Where the hell are you?” Dean’s voice was followed by a car door slamming. “I’ve been driving all over the goddamn county looking for you.”

A part of Cas wanted to call bullshit, to say that if Dean cared at all he would’ve guessed Gabriel’s house immediately. But instead he took a deep breath and pushed onward. “Dean, what happened last night has been a long time coming. We both know that things haven’t been working between us for-”

“Are you kidding me?” Dean screeched. “You’re breaking up with me on a phone call?”

“Dean-”

“No. Don’t. Where are you?” The venom in Dean’s voice was dripping off each word.

“You really don’t know?” Now Cas could feel his own voice rising, the anger starting to ebb into his head and twist his thoughts. “You really couldn’t guess that when I came home to my husband kissing another man on our couch that the first place I would do is Gabriel’s?”

Silence met his ears for a few heartbeats until Dean’s voice came through softer. “You flew our to Colorado?”

Seeing red, Castiel let out an angry snort or disbelief. “Really, Dean? Gabriel moved back here last year. How long have you been ignoring me, thinking about this other man? A year? Two? This whole time?! Was our entire marriage some kind of sick joke to you?!”

“Cas if you would just let me explain what happened last night! You didn’t even give me a chance to explain what happened! And I swear to God I don’t remember Gabriel moving back at all. The guy hates me, I never saw him even when he visited before.” A car engine roared to life. “Whats his address?”

“No.” Castiel felt his knees give out and he curled himself up into a ball with his forehead pressed to his knees. “I can’t see you, Dean. All I can see is that man… and you and-”

“I didn’t kiss him.” All the anger drained from Dean’s voice. “I invited him over for a couple drinks cause he’s a guy from work. We did a couple projects together and he seemed like a cool guy. When I went to get the remote to turn on the TV he… he kissed me. I pushed him off. I didn’t even know you had come home. I didn’t know until I heard your cry that you had seen it.”

Castiel clamped a hand over his mouth and tried to tense his muscles before the sobs broke through.

“I love you, Castiel. I know… God I know how this looks. We haven’t been on the same wave length recently and,” Dean sighed and groaned, “and I have been a shitty husband and I took us for granted because I mean… it’s always been you and me and I guess I didnt think about the fact that you could leave me.”

The tears were flowing freely from Cas’ eyes but he couldnt move, couldnt open his mouth or breathe.

“I love you more than anything in this world or the next, I swear to that. I have never wanted anyone else. I know things have been rough but fuck me I’d rather have you like this than be perfectly happy all the time with someone else.” A deep breath and then the car engine stopped roaring. “I won’t come get you. I won’t guilt you or beg you or do anything else. If you want to stay there, I’m not going to fight you. I want you to be happy, Cas, that’s all I ever wanted. So, um, if this is goodbye then I won’t hurt you anymore.”

Castiel pitched himself forward and let out all the sobs he had been trying to keep in. He cried and cried and pressed the phone so hard to his face he could feel the soreness in his cheek start to ache. But he couldn’t make any words come out. Every time he opened his mouth it was only broken whimpers and staggered breaths.

“Castiel, I love you. Goodbye.” And then Dean’s voice was gone.

SIX MONTHS LATER

Castiel watched the people coming and going outside the window of his small book store. It was started to get cooler outside and he always thought that the best addition to his peep watching was the brightly colored hats and scarves passing by. Winter was always so vibrant to him, always the season that made him smile the most from simply looking out a window.

The coffee in front of him had long stopped steaming but he still hadnt taken a sip yet. Instead he found himself captivated by the bustling street laid out before him. Most days his bookstore wasn’t busy, most of his sales being online, but he couldn’t blame anyone when it looked so nice to be outside walking in the cool air.

The bell dinged causing his eyes to leave the window and meet those of whoever walked in. When they were met with a perfect green, he felt a lump form in his throat and his back straighten just the slightest.

Dean Winchester walked slowly up the counter, as if he himself was feeling nervous about this and any moment he may change his mind and bolt for the door. But he kept walking, their eyes never leaving the others, until he was standing directly in front of the front desk.

“Dean-”

“Look, I know what I said.” Dean’s cheeks flushed as he dropped his eyes and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I know that I said I wouldn’t fight or give you any more trouble. But, Cas, I can’t-I havent-I just can’t do this.”

Feeling tears well in the back of his throat, Castiel nodded to try to keep himself from crying again. “I know.”

“And um, I just, I know that we are seperated and I need to sign the divorce papers but every time I go to do it I just... “ Dean cleared hsi throat as his voice started to grow hoarse. “I can’t get myself to know that this is over.”

Castiel didn’t talk, but he nodded again and let the tears flow down his cheeks.

Bringing his eyes up, they looked into each other and for a moment the pain that had been clawing at their souls for months was gone. They could breathe again, there was hope sparking in their eyes that mirrored the others.

“I love you, Cas. And I won’t fight you if you want me to sign the papers and walk out of your life, but I will fight with you to keep you by my side.” Dean gave a small hopeful smile full of promise.

“Okay, Dean.” Castiel scrunched his eyes painfully as he let out a sob and ran around the counter to throw himself into the love of his life’s arms. “I never stopped loving you no matter how hard I tried.”

Dean held Cas to his chest so tightly it was hard to tell where one of them ended and the other began. “I know, sweetheart, I tried, too.”

“So, I can burn these papers, right?”

Castiel looked up from his side of their bed with a yawn. “Hm?”

Dean, standing in the doorway to their bedroom with only a pair of low hanging lounge pants on, held up the divorce papers that neither of them had signed. “Burn these?”

Chuckling softly and closing his eyes to dive back under the covers, Cas replied with a simple, “Yes, honey.”

#ok so i haven't published anything in forever but i just kinda got in the mood tonight and its really really rough but i figured if i wrote #i might as well publish it here on the off chance any one would care to read it #im sure not im not even gonna tag it because its super angsty and horrible #hope yall are having a good day

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davidmann95 · 5 years

Note

Spidey’s leaving the MCU. Thoughts?

It’s been fascinating watching the discourse evolve in real time from “This is terrible” to “If you’re bummed about this it means you tacitly endorse Disney consuming all of culture” to “hey, Into The Spider-Verse somehow managed to escape Sony, so why should we think this will end up like their last 3 live-action Spider-Man movies that were clearly considered far higher-priority than that and treated as such just like this will be?” to “this is definitely all a negotiation tactic”. Given the last time word about a possible MCU-Sony deal pertaining to Spider-Man that Sony was cool on leaked the public outcry got them to turn around and make a deal within 3 months, I’m thinking the latter is probably more likely than not, but by no means guaranteed.

So in principle, in pure abstract principle, if it goes through, it doesn’t have to be a failure. Spider-Man being removed from the MCU doesn’t have that gigantic a reverberation through it because Spider-Man himself is a bit player in-universe, and even if I’ve been right and Norman Osborn was planned as the villain for a Secret Invasion/Dark Reign Phase 4 arc, he could easily be replaced with the likes of Ezekiel Stane. Far From Home could easily work as a final coming to terms with and farewell to those elements on Peter’s end, given one of its big messages ends up “don’t be Iron Man, be Spider-Man”; with him on the run and presumably disavowed by S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers, and Happy no longer seeing Aunt May, a third Spidey flick wouldn’t have to contort itself too horrifically to make internal sense as a direct sequel to the previous two without directly mentioning Stark or the other superheroes. The initial report says Jon Watts is staying onboard as director, and even if they want to shoehorn Venom in that could play out reasonably enough given, again, Peter’s on the run and would need to take what help he could get. Spider-Man and Venom vs. Kraven could be a perfectly decent movie without a single reference to Ant-Man. It could really even work *better* than way without having to wrestle with any involvement with the larger universe, or pressure to conform to house style.

In practice, if it happens, it’s probably going to be a fucking nightmare. The reasons for which are best represented by this guy:

Presumably even as we speak, devoted method actor Jared Leto is breaking into a bloodbank to greedily gobble up a pint of O negative previously bound for a children’s hospital in preparation for his performance as Morbius, the living vampire. Alongside Venom 2, whatever’s up with those Black Cat and/or Silver Sable movies, Sinister Six, and goddamn Nightwatch, ‘Sony’s Marvel Universe’ proceeds apace, and now they get to actually use the centerpiece character as they please to lend this all an air of legitimacy rather than desperate scrambling with a gaggle of hopeless D-listers. And does anyone - anyone - truly imagine Sony’s Spider-Man movie is going to be allowed to meaningfully center around anything but servicing the theoretical franchise? Because if so I want nothing more than to meet you and pick your brain to see how someone still believes in the inherent decency and dignity of man as powerfully as you, you sweet summer child.

So yeah, if this goes through it’s gonna be at best a deeply compromised movie in service of a bad idea. How does it all end up? I think in large part, it might actually lay in Tom Holland’s hands. Probably this is a dumb suggestion - there’s contracts and him probably wanting to ride out his biggest meal ticket and the studio egos that clearly played more of a role in this than money in the first place - but could Holland just threaten to walk if this goes through? Because this is a weird, specific situation where that threat would have tremendous leverage in a way it normally wouldn’t.

If Hugh Jackman had left halfway through Fox’s X-Men and they’d had to recast, or RDJ after Age of Ultron, that’d have been a tremendous blow to those series, but because it was a shared universe there still would have been all the surrounding major players and narrative architecture to let fans know it was the same thing they hopefully already liked. If Holland leaves however, it’s not that Spider-Man Disney set up for them anymore. Without the connection to the MCU, his face would be basically the one remaining major signifier to the public (sorry MJ/Ned, I’m talking Captain America-level ‘major’) that this is the Spider-Man they already really liked to the tune of a billion dollars. If they have to recast it wouldn’t even matter whether or not they formally rebooted, because even if they continued directly from where Far From Home left off, to the world at large this immediately becomes just another Amazing-style cash grab not affiliated with anything they like, an X-Men/DCEU second-tier super-franchise and one that screwed them out of better Avengers movies down the line to boot, and Sony would loose…hundreds of millions, I imagine? So yeah, leverage. And if Holland realized he had it and has an agent or manager or whatever who gives decent advice I have to imagine he’d use it: worst-case scenario they boot him, he goes out on a high note and already has other projects lined up like Uncharted rather than lashing his burgeoning career and reputation to a sinking ship. Best-case he gets more Avengers paydays plus substantially higher-grossing solo movies after all.

So as I see it, four potential outcomes, in what I’d consider order of likelihood:

1. This is all grandstanding and everything’s gonna be back to normal next month.

2. Holland stays, Spider-Man: Homeless performs substantially below what Sony was somehow hoping for in spite of everybody’s best efforts because these are the same genius producers behind Amazing plus now the mastermind behind X-Men Origins: Wolverine, and it returns to Marvel with its tail between its legs in time for Peter Parker to swing into Avengers 6 and ask where everybody was when he was getting framed for mass murder.

3. Holland threatens to bail, factions within Sony realize how much they stand to lose here by severing the rebuilt positive public association that’s the entire basis for how they think they can make this work - without that they’re back at square one where they reached out to Marvel in the first place - cooler heads prevail and a new deal is struck.

4. Holland’s bluff is called or the idiots who wanted this in the first place can him of their own accord because they think they can and should make a complete fresh start work. A new Spider-Man is cast, and while realistically the movies blow there’s less pressure to reverse this due to the cleaner break; unless there’s a boda-fide total flop Spidey remains out of the MCU’s grasp for the foreseeable future. Until Disney just flat-out buys Sony, to be clear.

So I think pretty much however you slice it this ends with Spider-Man still in the mix, albeit he may be going on hiatus from the big leagues for a bit; there’s some poetic irony there about him leaving just as the FF and X-Men arrive, the MCU stymied at the last from finally getting all their IP under one umbrella. Though I don’t know that I’d exactly count this as any sort of anti-corporate victory when either way Disney still gets all other Spider-Man stuff and merch sales that any movies will still drive, and either way Sony gets Spider-Man filmwise, so the only major outcome is we just might be stuck with shittier movies. A somewhat serious question if it goes through though: would all future editions of Infinity War have to have Holland edited out of the box art because they’re not allowed to advertise Spider-Man anymore, and likewise Iron Man scrubbed from the covers for Homecoming? Will reissuings of Homecoming/Far From Home have to have the MCU precredits montage taken out (meaning no more orchestral reaction of the 60s theme in them!)? I guess Disney has some experience in this sort of area with Who Framed Roger Rabbit so they’ll have protocols, but presumably when they lay it out to the head of Sony he’ll laugh at Marvel for having the hubris to try and advise them or thinking they have any say on the matter, and then turn around and immediately step on a rake.

#Spider Man #MCU #Tom Holland #Sony Pictures #Opinion

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loveofmonstersandroses · 4 years

Text

Chapter 11: Sounds Like a Bad Joke

request: Rexburn12:Hey, Dude when you have the time can you make a part 11 for Dark Skies and Screams in the Air. Can it about Reader telling his mates his true origins, and how his father is Dracula but they don't believe him until reader shows his vampire face getting them shocked, and reader tells them how his father is a traditional vampire which is stronger than the cold ones. Tanya, Victoria, and Leah gained his immunity to vampire gifts.

Warning: none. whole some little bit of violence talked about

Sorry, it took so long I wanted to get this one right make sure it came outright.

Chapter 11 sounds like a bad joke After now three months of getting to know each other (y/n) had a redhead a blonde and a brunette all living in his house. He just pinched his nose and breathed drinking his mix of blood and whiskey when the girls would argue. (y/n) would throw up his hands and claim he knew nothing. (y/n) came home as there was a bonfire in the front yard Leah was cooking over it. “You know we have a stove.” (y/n) chuckled Leah's face twisted into annoyance and displeasure. “No we don’t Tanya decided we needed a new one so she ripped out the old one and the new one is on backorder.” Leah spat words like venom from her lips. “It won’t be that long!” Tanya yelled from the house. (y/n) nodded “That good of a day huh.” he asked. Then there was a crashing sound Leah breathed “And getting better.” she growled he walked over hugged her rubbed her back “Breath. You can’t kill them.” he chuckled “Why?” she asked and breathed “Because you never want to admit it you like them.” he said she choked as she flipped the burgers over an open flame he chuckled. He walked inside then grabbed some food from the fridge he walked outside putting marshmallows on the metal stick. “Marshmallows very healthy.” Leah hummed “I am a bear I eat whatever I can get a hold of.” (y/n) replied shoved one in his mouth. “Does that include me.” Victoria bounced outside with her amber-colored eyes almost full gold at this point she was doing pretty well. “You don’t hold still long enough.”(y/n) teased. Tanya walked outside Victoria sat beside him Tanya sat beside Leah little campfire. “So I have been meaning to ask. You don’t have the same features as a normal vampire (y/n) who was your father?” Tanya asked. (y/n) wiped his mouth “my father was a King.” (y/n) said solemnly “my father made a deal with demon dark creature whatever you want to call him to save his people. He saved his people but lost his first wife and had to leave his first son.” (y/n) explained grabbed a drink out of Leah cooler opened it moved so to get comfortable. “after he lost his people his home; his family. He was feral unhinged he went right into my mother's Sleuths territory she was the only one that could take him down when she did she couldn’t kill him.” (y/n) explained telling the story. “Why?” Victoria asked curiously as (y/n) sipped his drink. “Mother said it was because he begged for death she could see the sadness in his eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to do it then they had me then the problems started.” (y/n) breathed looking into the fire as though it were a mirror into his mind replaying memories. “Problems?” Leah asked softly (y/n) nodded “Vampires like my fathers kind wanted to wipe out witches. But my father stood with the witches since they had saved my mother so that wiped out every one of my father's kind and bear aside from me.” (y/n) hummed finished my drink. “There is more than one kind of vampire?” Leah asked, “Use to be.” (y/n) breathed “Your pulling my leg there is no other kind of vampire I would have noticed I am over 500 years old.” Victoria spat “It shows.” Leah said Victoria hissed at her little comment Leah rolled her eyes no longer moved by there hissing. “Prove it.” Tanya grinned watching eagerly “I don’t want to scare you.” (y/n) smiled “Oh come on your not going to...” Leah got out then (y/n) growled his fangs came out his eyes went black he barred his fangs all the girls screamed and jumped then started laughing. (y/n) chuckled leaning back as his face went back to normal watching them having to breathe the shock ran over them. “So what does that mean for us you being a different kind of vampire.” Victoria breathed. “Pretty soon other vampires gifts won’t affect you it will start slow my Salvia gets in your system it will start affecting you all of you. I know it is already effecting Leah. You said it's hard for you to hear Sam or the boys any more right?” (y/n) clarifying he looked over at Leah she nodded “Yeah I noticed it the other day I can’t hear them clearly.” she breathed “pretty soon you won’t hear them at all long as your with me it’s a sort of protection I guess the bond protects mates I don’t fully understand it I just know how it works.” (y/n) explained smiled. “your always pretty good at protecting us.” Tanya smiled. “Would this be a good time for me to ask about getting a pet.” Victoria asked, “Why do you want a pet?” Leah asked, “I just want a cat I miss having a cat.” Victoria said (y/n) threw his hands up “Long as it doesn’t mess up my stuff I don’t care.” (y/n) responded, “Why do you want a cat Tanya is as cuddly as one.” Leah sighed Tanya moved over to her Leah glared at her “Her not me.” Leah sighed Victoria and (y/n) laughed.

@rexburn12

#bear #tanya denali #Victoria Sutherland #leah clearwater #dark skies and screams in the air #twilight saga #cullens #alice cullen #Jasper Hale #Emmett Cullen #Rosalie Hale #Edward Cullen #Wolf pack #Denali Coven #Nomads #Vald #dracula #Dracula Untold

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uas-fics · 5 years

Text

Title: Nine Forty-Five in the Morning

Rating: T

Summary: On your or your soulmate’s sixteenth birthday, you get a clue to finding each other. Stan is 100% sure Wendy is his soulmate, so why does the universe think it should be Butters?

Ships: Stutters

Other: Soulmate AU.

Technically set in the same universe as ‘Three Hours After Midnight’, since I could not get the line about Cartman making fun of Butters out of my head. Enjoy~<3

~~~

From time to time around the lunch tables at South Park elementary, soulmates became the topic of discussion for a day or two. Usually, the topic was brought up in relation to some big event such as a celebrity finding theirs or when someone's older sibling turn sixteen.

Unfortunately, at Stan's table, the topic was most often brought up by Cartman while he was taunting Butters.

"I bet your soulmate decks you in the face, Butters," Cartman said around a ketchup-covered chicken nugget, "for leaving them with your bad eye."

Butters pressed his lips into a line as he reached up and absentmindedly touched under his eyebrow. His fingers traced along the scar that ran through his eye and ended at the top of his cheek.

Butters didn't defend himself, instead turning his face down to his own tray. Something about this always bothered Stan. The very notion of hating one's soulmate was an impossible thought to even entertain!

The bedtime stories say once people's souls were much bigger than they are now, but people were too happy and never left their own company, so the universe split the soul into different bodies, usually in two, but sometimes in three, four, or even more.

The stories also say that the universe saw how desperately people were searching for their other halves and promised them all a clue: on their sixteenth birthday, they and their soulmate would switch one eye. That way, each person always had a little bit of their soulmate.

His mom always ended the story by telling him that when Stan found his soulmate, he'd be the happiest boy around.

If the story was true, then you couldn't hate your soulmate. They were meant to fill up the holes in your self.

Kenny punched Cartman in the arm. "No one would hit their soulmate on purpose, dumbass."

When this topic came up, Kenny always jumped to Butters' defense. Maybe he did it because he was just a good person, or maybe he felt bad for scarring Butter's eye in the first place.

Cartman snorted. "If you woke up one day blind in one eye, you wouldn't be upset? What if you lost your job because of it? You'd have to learn to live life completely different than you do. You can't say that wouldn't be a pain in the ass."

Kenny opened his mouth, then shut it. Butters slumped farther down in his seat.

Cartman smirked. "My point exactly! Butters," he dropped his hand on Butters' shoulder, "You probably shouldn't even look for your soulmate. They'll hate you. It's better you just die al--"

Stan ripped open his ketchup packet and squirted the contents right in Cartman's face.

"Can't you just shut up?" Stan threw the empty packet at him. His voice came out harsher and more defensive than he'd intended. This did not go unnoticed by the rest of the table. Even Kyle, who usually kept his head down during Cartman's ragging, raised an eyebrow.

Stan's face went red. He coughed into his hand.

"It's getting so old now, dude," Stan said in a cooler tone. "Besides, at least he'll be able to find his soulmate easily. Unlike you."

Cartman glared over the top of the napkin he used to clean his face.

Now that the topic turned against Cartman, Kyle happily jumped in.

"He's right, you know," Kyle sneered. "It'll be super easy for Butters to find his eye. The scar makes it distinct. Not like your eyes."

"Hey!" Cartman gripped his hand into fists.

Kyle went on as if he hadn't spoken, "You and Kenny have eyes that are, like, exactly the same. What if you both have soulmates with brown eyes and you end up switching soulmates and your life would be miserable?"

Kenny gasped, a look of worry on his face. "Don't even joke about that, Kyle! I wouldn't want Cartman's soulmate. Fuck no!"

Before Cartman could reply, the bell rang. With eyes narrowed venomously, he stood and stormed off, leaving his tray behind. Kyle smiled triumphantly as he left to dump his tray. Kenny's face remained concerned a moment. He ran after Kyle, probably to confirm that he and Cartman couldn't mix up their soulmates.

Stan stretched. He grabbed his tray and turned to dump it when a warm hand fell on his forearm.

Butters looked at him in awe.

"Thank you," he whispered. "That was real swell of you to defend me like that."

Something in Stan's chest squeezed, but he didn't know why.

He shrugged. "Cartman's just annoying and jealous. You shouldn't let him get to you."

"Oh, I don't, usually," Butters admitted. He opened his mouth to continue, but Stan saw Wendy leaving her friends.

"Butters, I gotta go," Stan told him. Butters clamped his mouth shut and slowly withdrew his hand from Stan. For a beat, he looked disappointed, but his cheerful disposition returned before Stan could really take it in.

He did notice, though, that where Butters' hands rested, a strange warm feeling began to grow a moment before it faded. Stan almost wanted the feeling back, but he shook the feeling off.

He needed to meet Wendy by the door before they were dismissed to class; they were going to hold hands the whole walk to their lockers.

~~~~

A few years later, Stan woke with a foggy recollection of that day in the elementary lunchroom, but it faded seconds after. He laid in his bed, covers pulled over his head. He knew he needed to get up. Today was a busy day, after all.

That night he and Wendy were going on the most romantic date Stan could afford: an evening at the Italian restaurant in town. There would be tall candles and they would drink sparkling fruit juice out of stemmed glasses.

Stan couldn't wait until Wendy complimented on what a good job he'd done and how much she'd enjoyed it.

Ever since they both turned fifteen, Stan had gone above and beyond to show her how much he cared, because he knew they would be soulmates. He'd known since third grade. When his birthday in October came and he woke up with her dark eye instead of his blue, it would be confirmed.

They'd live happily ever after.

Something tickled in the back of Stan's brain. He was forgetting something...

He groped around his bedside table for his phone. He clicked it on and a calendar reminder stared back at him.

Oh, right, today was Butters' sixteenth birthday. It was nine forty-three, and Butters said he was born at nine forty-five, so in two more minutes Butters could truly pass into adulthood and have his soulmates eye.

Stan almost felt jealous of the time he would have to wait. He brushed the feeling aside. What did it matter if he had to wait another month? He already had his life plan ready, unlike Butters.

Wendy would earn her degree in women’s and environmental studies while Stan earned his in veterinary sciences. They would live happily in a little house outside Denver with their pets — and maybe a few kids. They hadn't decided if they wanted any yet.

Their perfect life together was a little more than a month away.

Stan stretched up in bed, wincing at the light from the window, then finally stood. He still had a few hours before the party, but he might as well get up and shower now. Also, he had to remind his mom to iron his church pants for his date.

He shouldered open the door with a yawn.

Just after he took a step, everything around him changed. He stumbled back, gripping the wall, trying to remember how to breathe, and more importantly, how to see.

The world seemed flatter as if someone used a transform tool on a photograph. His head spun, trying to process the world around him. He blinked a few times, stumbling forward. His trek to the bathroom resulted in him bumping against a table he was sure hadn't ever jetted that far out into the hallway before.

He missed the doorknob twice. He used both his hands to successfully find it on the third try.

Rubbing his eye, Stan muttered, "The hell? Am I getting sick? No, I can’t get sick today. There is just something in my eye is all...”

Slamming the door behind him, Stan made his way to the toilet. He sat to do his business, phone in hand, still rubbing his eye.

Kyle was already up and texting him, as usual. He didn’t even have anything important to prepare for but Butters party at noon, unlike Stan. That was just how Kyle was. He didn't seem to understand they were teenagers. Sleeping until noon on Saturdays was a luxury they would soon lose.

His best friend asked if he was up and if he wanted to go play some basketball in an hour or two before heading to Butters' party.

Stan considered this before replying, "Maybe. Feeling weird this morning."

Kyle texted back almost instantly. "You think you'll be ok for your date?"

Kyle only asked because Stan hadn't shut up about the date all week long, and if something went wrong, Stan would whine about it for a week afterward. Stan knew that, but found himself thankful Kyle didn't say it aloud.

"I'm sure it's nothing." He paused then tacked on, "Do you know you can become a fourth depth blind?"

He didn't think he'd accurately described how the world looked to him at that moment, but hopefully, Kyle would be able to understand regardless. They were best friends, after all.

Stan set his phone near the sink as he finished. He'd flushed and began to tighten the drawstring on his pants when his phone rang.

He rolled his eyes before pressing to accept the call.

"Hey — "

"You're going blind?" Kyle cut him off. Of course, always the mom friend, Kyle began to fret at the slightest indication of illness.

Stan turned on the sink to wash his hands.

"No, it's nothing. A joke," He looked up towards the mirror as he washed, "nothing to wor...Oh my God."

"Stan? Stan! What's wrong?" Kyle's voice had a frown in it.

Shaking Stan pressed his stomach against the counter, looking closer at his face.

"No, oh God, no, no!" He whispered. "This can't...no, no, no— !"

"STAN!" Kyle shouted into his phone, leaving him thankful he left it on the sink and not against his ear.

Stan scrambled to pick up the phone. He missed hitting it with his hand, nearly sending it into the toilet, but snatched it before it took the plunge. He stared above Kyle’s call icon to the clock in the corner.

Nine forty-six AM.

Holding it to his ear, Stan whimpered, "Kyle, I need you to come over now. Don't ask questions, just come over and come to my room. Oh no. Oh shit. Hurry, please."

Before Kyle could ask any more questions, Stan hung up.

He crouched down, hugging his knees to his chest.

This couldn't be happening...

~~~~

Kyle showed up in less than ten minutes. When he rushed into Stan's room, he was sweaty from running and had a worried expression plastered to his features.

Stan sat on the old trunk at the foot of his bed, curled in on himself. It once held toys and games, now it held books and old clothes and a shoebox full of love letters Wendy had sent him over the years.

The thought of Wendy made his chest ache. He squeezed himself into a tighter ball, heaving sobs.

Kyle made sure to shut the door before walking over. He set a hand on his back.

"Stan?" He ventured. "What's wrong? Are you ok? What can I do to help?"

"Nothing!" Stan choked out. "Nothing can be done! I'm fucked!"

Kyle sat beside him on the trunk. The fact it still supported both their weight after all these years was a sign of its craftsmen's ship. He rubbed circles between his shoulder blades until Stan cried himself out. Years of dealing with them had taunt Kyle a lot of how to handle Stan's emotional outbursts without making the matter worse.

"I'm sure it's not that bad," Kyle reassured him. "Come on, dude, what's wrong."

Shaking, Stan slowly raised his head and met Kyle's eyes.

Kyle's face blanched.

Inside Stan's head were two different colored eyes, both ringed with red. one was the same sapphire color that had always been there, but the other was a milky blue with a scar tearing through it. The scar in the eye did not extend through to the flesh, as Kyle knew it should.

"Oh my..." Kyle's mouth gaped. He raised his hand, grasping Stan's face to pull him closer. "Holy shit."

"This can't be fixed," Stan whimpered, a fresh batch of tears spring up.

"No, but, um," Kyle wracked his brain a moment, "maybe it's not his. Maybe it's someone else's?"

It was a feeble lie, and they both knew it.

"It's Butters birthday today and it's Butters' eye!" Stan wailed. "We're...we're..." He couldn't bring himself to say ‘soulmates.’

He and Butters couldn't be soulmates, because he and Wendy were! Wendy completed him. Wendy was supposed to be with him forever. Not Butters!

Kyle chewed his lip. He wrapped his friend in a comforting hug.

"What are you going to do?"

"I dunno." Stan sniffled. "Die, maybe? Drink?"

Actually, that second one didn't seem like a bad idea. In the back of his mind, he remembered his dad hiding some of his expensive wine in the attic. If he could get Kyle to leave...

"You're not doing either of those. Kenny, Cartman, and I will do another booze sweep of your room. Don’t test me," Kyle told him sternly. His friend took a breath before pulling back. He stroked his chin in thought.

"Do you want to talk to Butters about this? It's still early, so no one else should be there for the party. Or do you want to talk to Wendy first?" Kyle prioritized.

His stomach turned. Stan nearly vomited on his shoes.

He didn't want to talk to either of them. Wendy would be so disappointed. All those years building their relationship, only to have it snatched from them by some cruel trick of the universe?

Anger began to boil in his stomach to replace the unease. He wanted to be mad at Butters, but he knew it wasn't his fault. The universe chose this fate for them well in advance. So he pointed his rage towards fate and the universe and swore when he died, he and God would have a long talk about this.

Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, Stan sniffled.

"Butters lives closer, but I want to talk to Wendy," He muttered, grabbing Kyle's wrist. He looked up at him. "I can't walk worth a shit because of this. My depth perception is gone. Could you help me out and drive me there?"

Kyle nodded. "Yeah. I'll drive. Let me run home and get my wallet. You get dressed."

~~~~

Stan slumped down in the front seat of the old minivan. The seatbelt pressed against his lower lip. Now the Thanks to the sunglasses he wore, the world bathed in a dark blue tint.

Kyle slammed down on the brakes. The seat belt slipped from his chin against his neck, choking him as he lurched forward.

"Sorry!" Kyle blurted out. Kyle only passed his permit test recently, and gradual stops still gave him trouble. Technically, he wasn't even supposed to be driving without an adult in the vehicle, but both of them agreed this counted as an emergency and borrowed the minivan without asking.

Stan rubbed his neck, sitting up correctly. Kyle flipped on the blinker as they pulled into Wendy's driveway. Her house loomed over Stan like a hangman’s noose. He rubbed his neck as he prepared to be punished for a sin he didn’t chose to commit.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" Kyle asked, already unbuckling his seatbelt.

"No," Stan shook his head. "I'll do it on my own."

Stealing himself, Stan unbuckled and pushed open the door. He marched up. His heart threatened to escape his chest as he knocked.

Mrs. Testaburger opened the door after a moment’s wait. She looked at him with an eyebrow raised. He'd never noticed that her eyes were two different shades of grey before.

"Why, good morning, Stan." She tilted her head. "What are you doing here? It's a little early for your date, isn't it?"

"Emergency," He said. At her concerned expression, he amended, "School emergency. I left my homework sheet at school and wanted to copy Wendy's."

Mrs. Testaburger let him inside, though she didn’t look like she totally believed his lie. With the reminder to leave the door open in his ears, he carefully dragged himself up the steps towards Wendy's room.

The door was open. He walked in and purposefully shut it. Wendy jumped from her laptop at the noise, spinning around. She was fully dressed and ready to take on the day. Guilt gnawed his stomach as he realized he was about to ruin her Saturday before it began.

"Stan?" She frowned. "What are you — ?"

Before she finished, the tears came up again. Stan found himself on his knees with his face buried in her stomach.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He sobbed. "It's not my fault, but I'm sorry!"

"What's not your fault?" Wendy pushed him back. She reached to remove his sunglasses. The moment her eyes landed on his, she gasped. The sunglasses hit the floor.

The look of shock, hurt, and betrayal on her face made him want to die even more. She took a breath, soothingly stroking his head.

A few more whimpers escaped his throat, but no words. What could he say to that face?

"Oh, oh boy," she muttered. "Is that..?"

"Yeah.." Stan nodded as he rested his cheek on her lap. "Who else's could it be? It happened this morning."

He wanted her to hug him, hug him so hard that the universe would see it made a stupid mistake and fix this situation. In a feebly attempted, he shut one eye. Out of Butters' eye, the world was nothing but darkness. No, the universe didn't fix its mix up.

Because the universe is an idiot, Stan decided.

"Have you told him?" She asked, voice tight. “What did he think?”

Stan shook her head. "No, I...I can't, Wendy. He...I can't."

In all honesty, Stan didn't know what Butters would think. In fact, he'd been purposely dismissing any thoughts of Butters since he found out.

If he never let Butters' into his mind, then he couldn't start to think about how he felt about him. For the last few years, he tried his best to only think about his feelings for Wendy.

When he was thirteen and he realized that his attractions extended beyond just girls — and beyond just Wendy — he’d forced himself to ignore any line of thought that might mess with his and Wendy’s life plan together. He already taught himself to ignore other girls like that, it wasn’t too difficult to extend that to other genders as well.

Now he focused all that learned ignorance towards his feelings to Butters.

Wendy hugged him to her chest. "It's ok, Stan. I'm not mad at you. I understand." She kissed the top of his head. She tried to hide it in the soothing tones, but Stan still heard the hurt in her voice.

"I don't want this," he muttered. "I don't know what to do."

"You'll have to tell him, sooner rather than later. You don't want someone else realizing it's your eye before he has."

Stan wanted to vomit again.

“I can't. I...I don't want to,” he whispered, shaking. “Wendy, don't you see? It's Butters. Butters is...you know!”

She set her mouth in a line and shook her head.

“No. I don't know,” she replied.

Stan fumbled to find the words to describe what he meant. Only as he thought about it, he couldn't explain it to himself. It was tempting to say Butters was social suicide, but he dashed that idea. Butters had made himself a nice little niche in the social ladder. Not really super popular, but not hated or mocked like he used to be, either.

Even then, Stan knew most people would jump to the defense of soul mates if someone tried to mock them.

Finally, Stan told her quietly, “He's not you. I want you to be with me forever. You’re supposed to be the one to complete me. Not him. If I don't see him, then maybe I can still pretend its a mix-up and it's you and...I love you.”

Wendy continued to pet his head but didn't speak. He saw pity on her face now. His lips trembled. He wanted to scream. Go outside to yell and shout until everything was as it should be. He and Wendy were together forever and Butters was happy with someone else.

Instead, he clenched her tighter to him, trying not to bawl like a child again.

“I love you too, but,” her voice cracked, and so did Stan's heart, “you're not supposed to be with me.”

“Yes, I am!” Stan countered, “I've loved you since second grade. I don't love Butters!”

“How do you know?”

Stan's voice fell silent in his throat. Truthfully, he couldn't answer. For a moment, something pushed up in him. The feeling was familiar, but Stan couldn’t put a name to it.

He shoved the feeling down as hard as he could.

“But...I want you,” he tried one last time. Wendy opened her mouth, but a knocking cut her off.

Kyle stood in the doorway with a frown.

“Sorry,” He apologized. “My mom called. She isn't happy I took the car without asking — and drove illegally.” He added the last part under his breath.

Stan nodded stiffly. There was nothing else he needed to say to Wendy that wasn’t more pleading and begging.

He slowly stood. Wendy grabbed his wrist. She pulled him down to kiss him, but not on the lips, on the cheek.

“Talk to him Stan, ok? Call me if you need me.” She whispered.

“Ok, I will,” he promised before heading to meet with Kyle.

When Stan shut the door behind him, he heard her start to sob.

~~~~~

Mrs. Broflovski stood in the Marsh's driveway with Stan's parents to her left. A strangled whimper came from Kyle's throat when his mom's eyes fixed through the windshield at him. He took a breath, steeling himself before he opened his door.

“Young man! What is the meaning of this?” His mother gestured to the car. “You don't have a full license. You can't drive without me or your father in the car with—”

“It's my fault, Mrs. Broflovski,” Stan cut in as he left the passenger side.

Stan noticed the mismatch eyes their parents had. Brown and hazel on his dad. Blue and green on his mom. Pale grey and black on Mrs. Broflovski.

Mrs. Broflovski covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh my...”

“Wow.” His dad whistled. “Huh. Will, uh, will you look at that.”

At that moment, Stan realized he'd left his sunglasses on Wendy's floor. He winced. There was no way they didn't know whose eye he had. Knowing his parents and Mrs. Broflovski, all the other parents would know by church tomorrow, and probably Bu—

He cut off that thought.

“It's my fault,” he repeated. He noticed how raw his voice sounded and swallowed his spit a few times. It didn't help.

“I wanted to talk to W-Wendy.” A shuddering breath and he went on, “I can't really walk well right now, half blind and all, so Kyle drove me. Sorry, Mrs. Broflovski.”

“N-no, it's ok, honey,” Mrs. Broflovski told him an overly sweet, but understand voice. “We'll let it slide this once.”

Stan nodded and walked past them up the walk. As he passed her, his mom grabbed his arm. He met her eyes before he sighed and shook his head at the unasked question on her face.

Have you talked to Butters?

“I'm going to go lie down,” he said after escaping her grasp.

From the car, Kyle called, “I'll text you later, dude. Um...stay strong?”

He sounded like he didn't know what to say. Luckily, Stan didn't know what he wanted to hear.

~~~

Stan laid face down on his bed for either weeks or hours. At this point, he wasn't sure and didn’t care. He went downstairs only once to grab a glass of orange juice and untoasted Pop-Tart. He didn’t talk to either of his parents as he grabbed his snack, though he felt them keep worried eyes on him the whole time. Even Shelley didn’t tease him when he passed her in the hall.

Stan tried to keep his mind blank. He didn't want to think about the situation. He didn’t want to think at all. It was a foolish idea to think if he ignored it, it would go away, but for the time being, he was willing to be a fool.

A ping from his phone foiled his attempts at keeping his mind empty.

Holding it above his face, he unlocked his phone and opened the Instagram notification. Kenny tagged him in a post.

Cheerful selfie of Kenny and Butters stared back at him. Kenny flashed a peace sign while Butters winked his eye at the camera.

No, my eye, Stan thought bitterly.

The post itself was a generic birthday post, wishing Butters well and ending with “this party is gonna be lit! Can't wait to see everyone there.” followed by all the username mentions.

Stan glared at the Butters in the selfie. If they were soulmates, then how can he be so happy? If Stan was miserable, then Butters should be, too. It was only fair.

In a fit of anger, Stan went to Butters’ profile and blocked him. Then he went onto every other social media site they shared and blocked him, from Twitter to Youtube to the Facebook account he never used, he blocked Butters on every single one.

As he finished blocking him on Steam, Stan let the phone fall to his stomach. He hoped blocking Butters would make him feel better, and it did, for all of a minute.

Then the guilt set in for being childish and petty.

Like before, he reminded himself this wasn't Butters’ fault. He didn't get a choice in the matter any more than Stan did.

After some time, Stan rolled to his side as a change of scenery. His gaze lingered on some of the trophies and medals displayed along his shelf.

With such poor sight in one eye, how was he supposed to play football? Or run track? Or basketball? He had to hold tight to the stair railing just to make sure he didn't trip over his feet. There was no way he could catch a ball or jump a hurdle.

Hadn't Butters played football after he lost his sight? Stan remembered suddenly. Back in fourth grade, when the game was changed to sarcastaball or whatever?

He recalled Butters being ok at football, but exceptional at sarcastaball. What caused them to end that sport again? Some scandal about...

He flushed all the way up to his ears then pulled his pillow over his face.

Why, why did his soulmate have to be Butters?

Stan lowered to his pillow under his chin. He tried to shoot a text to Kyle but kept pressing the wrong letters. It took him nearly a half a minute to finally fix all his mistakes and make the text readable.

“Are you at the party?” He sent.

Five minutes later, Kyle replied, “Yeah. Are you ok?”

“Sure,” Stan responded. “Did you see Butters? Did he have my eye?”

He winced at his question, but sent the whole text. It was stupid, but he needed confirmation.

“Yes. It's yours.” came the simple answer.

Stan looked at the cursor bar, debating what to say.

He typed out “did he say anything about me?” then deleted it. Next, he typed, “does he know I'm his soulmate?” He deleted that too. Before he could finish his third attempt, Kyle texted him.

“I told him you were sick and couldn't make it. He looked disappointed.”

Stan frowned. Was Butters feeling that way because they were soulmates and the universe was forcing him to? No, Stan shook his head at the thought, that’s just how Butters was. He was a nice guy and Stan’s friend. Of course, he’d be sad he didn’t show on his big day.

Would I be disappointed if it was the other way around? He thought on that a moment.

Would he? He and Butters weren’t best friends, not like he and Kyle, but somehow Stan felt that if Butters didn’t show up to something Stan invited him too, even a big party like his sixteenth birthday, he would be disappointed, at least, a little bit.

“Thanks for covering for me.”

A couple of minutes, then “NP. Call me if you need anything.” came in reply. Stan was about to shut his phone down and continue staring at the ceiling when another text came.

He lifted his phone to check, assuming it was from Kyle, but was instead greeted with Butters’ smiling seventh-grade face looking back at him from the message icon.

“Hey! I heard you were sick. :^( I hope you feel better soon. If you’d like, I’ll save you a piece of cake. :^)” Butters said.

For a moment, he felt scared. In his mind, he knew his knee jerk reaction should have been to throw the phone across the room to avoid talking to Butters, but it wasn’t. Instead, he felt that same warm feeling again. His thumb moved of its own accord, pressing Butters’ icon to bring up the full picture.

The start of puberty was weird for everyone in his class: pimples, voices cracking, growths spurts, hair showing up all over, limbs not growing in tune with everything else.

Stan had been aware of that from the day Kenny’s voice suddenly dropped in the middle of a conversation at the bus stop.

Butters was no exception to the curse of hormones.

In seventh grade, he looked like a brick on stilts: long, thin legs, but a compact, almost rectangular, torso. Even on a good day, he had pimples on his cheeks and forehead and, not unlike Stan himself, it took a little while for the concept of personal hygiene to really kick in as an everyday task.

Stan stared at the picture, unsure of the feeling in his chest, then he opened Instagram and went to Butters’ profile. He unblocked him after a second’s consideration, then started scrolling.

He didn’t stop until he hit the very bottom, then slowly made his way up. Through years of photos, Stan watched Butters grow up before him.

He smiled to himself a few times when he saw photos of any of the phases Butters went through: Paladin Butters, Professor Chaos, little league and the other sports, all the way up to his current extracurriculars, choir and cheer squad.

For some reason, Stan felt happy seeing all these pictures — the proof of Butters growing up alongside him.

When he finally got back to the top, his heart skipped a beat.

The newest photo was of Butters and Clyde, toasting pizza slices to the camera. Stan’s sapphire colored eye looked back at him from Butters’ face.

This time, the knee jerk reaction to throw the phone took hold. It hit the carpet and slid until the phone half-disappeared under a pile of clothes. He almost hoped he broke it, but he didn’t get up to check. Instead, he let out a cry of frustration.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Stan? Are you alright?” his mom asked.

“No. No, I’m fucking not, Stan groaned, burying his face in the sheets.

The door opened and two sets of feet gently padded in. The bed sunk down before his mom put a hand on his shoulder. He turned towards them, only to realized that he couldn’t see them on that side, so he sat up.

His dad set a hand on his mom’s back. They both wore the same, sympathetic smile.

“Your mother and I were talking,” his dad started, “and we want you to know we’re here for you if you need us.”

Stan shrugged in reply. “I don’t want this,” he muttered. “I want to stay with Wendy. I don’t love — ” his voice cracked, “I do not love Butters.”

His dad chewed his lip then asked, “And how do you know you don’t?”

Stan glared. “I’ve been in love. I love Wendy, and I don’t feel that way about him.”

Neither of them looked convinced, but Stan wasn’t surprised. They never took his feelings seriously.

He focused his gaze on the Nike logo on his socks.

“Well, Stan,” his mom put his hand on his knee and squeezed, “you haven’t talked to him since he turned sixteen, have you? Soulmates are complicated. Maybe your feelings will change.”

“Or,” his dad cut in, “maybe you’re not in love love with him. You know your Uncle Jimbo and Ned are soulmates, and their just good friends.”

Stan’s head snapped up. He stared at his dad with wide eyes.

“Oh my...that’s it. Friend soulmates! That has to be it.” A smile spread across his face. “How could I be so stupid?” He hit his forehead with the heel of his palms. “Butters is straight. He couldn’t be interested in me like that anyway! Everything makes sense now. Thank you, thank you!” Stan threw his arms around his mom’s shoulders, then his dad’s.

With that, he scrambled to his feet and started towards the door. “I need to go take a shower. I love you, Mom and Dad. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Finally, his life plan was back on track.

~~~~

Chapter 2

#south park #sp stutters #stan marsh #butters stotch #fanfiction #daul shot #multi chapter #sp stan #sp butters #soulmate au

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iwillphysicallyfiteyou · 5 years

Text

Part Three❤ When the Villain Becomes the Hero

Virgil’s POV

Summary: Logan and Virgil go for a walk, and stumble to a party.

Pairing: LAMP

Content warnings will spoil this series. If you need content warnings, then don’t read this.

Previous, Next.

❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

It’s been weeks since I’ve left our apartment.

Deceit has been surprisingly nice, he’s been calling me to check up on me, and The Duke’s even sent a couple of text messages. Logan is basically my mom at this point. He’s been making my breakfast, lunch, dinner, and will occasionally give me snacks. Every night we sit on my bed and watch Netflix on his laptop. He always apologizes that he’s gone for most of the day because of work, even though I keep telling him that he has nothing to apologize for.

“Hey Logan,” I say as I walk into the living room.

“Yes?” He quickly stands up from the couch. He gives me a questioning gaze. “What’s with the get-up?”

I look down at my black trench coat and combat boots.

“I want to go for a walk.”

“It’s summer in Florida. Why are you wearing a coat?”

“I’m cold.”

“Yeah, because of the air conditioning inside, which is not outside.:

“Are you going to go for a walk with me or not?” I ask as I take the jacket off.

“Yes, just let me get dressed.”

He goes into his room wearing his villain outfit, then comes out wearing a sweater with jeans.

“A black sweater? It’s summer in Florida,” I mock.

Logan playfully rolls his eyes while grabbing his phone off of the couch.

He hasn’t changed his phone case in four years. He used to not have a phone case at all until I bought him a plain black otterbox, now he won’t take it off.

“Let's go,” he says as he puts his phone, wallet, and keys into his pockets.

We walk a couple of blocks before we end up in the rich part of town.

“How is it that we’re two of the most famous people in the world, yet we live in a shitty apartment instead of these big houses?” I ask as I stare at Logan’s hand. Why do I have such an urge to hold it?

“Well, our dorms are really nice.”

I sigh.

“They must be having a big party,” Logan says.

I look up from Logan’s hand and see in the distance a big house with a ton of people hanging out in the front yard. They all seem quite young, early twenties or late teens. Logan and I’s age.

“Must be nice.”

Logan gives me a quick sad smile.

When we get closer a girl walks towards us. Her long curly orange hair is in low pigtails. She has freckles and dimples, and she’s absolutely adorable.

When she gets closer I realize she’s looking straight at us.

“Hi,” she smiles as she greets us.

“Hello?”

“I know who you two are,” she says.

“Well that’s not terrifying at all,” I say as I take a step back.

“Your Misery Vails and SuperLogic,” she whispers.

Heat rushes to my face as my legs tingle.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. How is your wound? I got worried when you left in the middle of the night, especially when you went silent afterward.”

“Holy shit, you’re Moral Daisy,” I say as I examine her appearance. She’s quite a bit short than I am, which is impressive since I’m 5′7. She’s very petite, and her sweet high-pitched voice is unforgettable.

She excitedly nods her head, as if she didn’t just reveal her identity to two of the biggest villains in the entire world.

“Holy-”

“Do you wanna come inside? It’s my eighteenth birthday party,” Moral Daisy interrupts Logan.

“Sure,” Logan says before I can object.

“My name’s Paige by the way, and if anyone asks we met at Halo Cafe,” she says as she leads us to the house.

“Did you just tell us your actual name?” Logan asks.

“I mean my name is right there,” she says as she points at the sign saying, “Paige’s 18th Birthday.”

I look over at Logan. Are we supposed to tell her our names too? Sounds like a trap.

As we walk into the patio with glass walls a tall man with the sharpest jaw I’ve ever seen greets us.

“Hey, Paige, who are these two?” he asks as he greets us. Holy crap, he’s beautiful. His red hoodie even has the word “lover” on it in cursive, how can I not fall for him? Especially since his voice is deep and smooth.

“Oh, these are my friends from Halo Cafe,” she says.

“I’m Roman,” he says as he shakes Logan’s hand.

Should I come up with a fake name?

“I’m Logan,” Logan says as Roman shakes my hand.

Guess not.

“And I’m Virgil.”

“It’s nice to meet you two,” he says with a huge smile. Why does his voice sound so familiar?

“Holy shit, you’re Princey,” I blurt out, and the three of them widen their eyes.

“Uhh, how would you know that? I always use a voice changer during interviews.

“You're... tall.”

“Do you accuse every tall person of being Princey?” He asked.

“Oh no,” Paige whines.

“How would you know that?” He repeats.

“He’s Misery Vails!” Paige blurts out.

“Dude!” I panic.

“And you haven’t arrested him yet?” He asks Paige.

“We’re not going to arrest them,” Paige says.

“Them? Is he,” Roman points at Logan, “a villain too?”

Logan nods his head while glaring at Patton.

“They’ve never killed anyone, and they’ve never shot anyone,” Paige says.

Roman scratches the back of his neck while glancing at the ground.

“Why can’t we befriend them? They’re a lot better than most villains, besides, they’ve been really nice to me,” Paige says.

Logan’s half-smiling, with a confused expression on his pale face.

Paige is either really optimistic or really pathetic.

Roman’s eyebrow twitches.

“Paige, can I talk to you?” He asks.

“Uh sure,” Paige looks over at Logan and me, “we’ll be one second. There are drinks over there.” She points at a couple of coolers in the corner. “Please don’t leave. That sounded a lot more desperate than I thought,” she gives a small chuckle.

Roman and Paige walk into the house.

“This place is really nice,” Logan says as he looks around the patio.

“Yeah, this patio is bigger than our entire apartment.”

Logan chuckles.

“Ain’t that the truth.”

We get sodas and drink almost the entire cans before Paige came back outside.

“Hey guys, sorry about that.”

“Where’s Roman?” Logan asks.

“He’s inside. Most people are inside,” Paige explains.

“What about the crowd of people outside?”

“They’re mainly neighbors that I didn’t invite.”

“You should probably call the police,” Logan says.

“Nah, it’s fine. Let’s go inside.” Paige guides us inside.

Her living room is huge, and I’ve never seen a staircase as big as her’s.

“Alright,” Paige chirps as she puts her hands onto her hips. “We already did cake and presents, so if you want some food or cake the kitchen is over there.” She points at the kitchen.

There’s a huge arch in the wall showing off the fancy kitchen.

I would kill for a house this nice.

Paige goes over to a group of people to chat, leaving Logan and me in the middle of the kitchen.

“We mine as well get some food,” Logan says before taking a plate.

We both get some food before sitting down on the bar stools at the counter. We make small talk until someone sits down next to me.

“Hey,” Roman says quietly.

“Yeah?” I ask.

“Paige really trusts you two, so if you mess with her I will shot you again,” Roman warns.

“Someone doesn’t trust us.” Logan rolls his eyes.

“You two are literally villains- nay, supervillains!” Roman is the most dramatic person I’ve ever met, which is impressive considering I know Deceit and The Duke.

“You’re yelling about how we’re supervillains in a crowded house,” Logan reminds him.

He looks around to see a couple of people staring at us.

“Just kidding,” he awkwardly chuckles.

“How have you not been exposed yet?” I ask as I throw my head in my hands.

“Paige is the smart one out of us two,” Roman admits.

“I thought she was a hero for only two years and you’ve been a hero for six-”

“That’s not important,” Roman interrupts Logan.”You’ve been a hot minute since you’ve been in the public eye.”

“Yeah, I was a little bit busy with recovering from a gunshot wound.”

“Don’t rob banks then,” Roman says.

“We weren’t hurting anyone,” I snarl.

“Except for the economy and all of the people you’ve traumatized.” Roman rolls his eyes.

“You mean the economy that keeps rich people rich and poor people poor? Yeah, I’m not too worried about that. Also, those people wouldn’t have been traumatized if no one was shot.” Venom is seething through my words as I try to keep my cool.

“Wow, those are some mental gymnastics,” Roman says.

“Everyone does what they do for a reason. You may see us as the bad guys, but we see you as the bad guy, not us,” Logan explains.

“What? How can anyone believe that the villains are the good guys?”

“We have fans, just like you and Paige do,” I say as I take the last sip from my Pepsi can.

“That’s... actually kind of gross.”

My stomach is churning.

“Why don’t we make a deal,” Logan smirks.

“A deal with villains, that sounds like a trap,” Roman says.

“What do you have up your sleeve?” I ask.

“Nothing,” Logan rolls up his sleeve, “see, just my arms.”

“How are you this stupid?”

“I’m not-”

“What is the deal?” Roman interrupts our conversation.

“You and Paige refrain from harming us, and we’ll refrain from hurting you two,” Logan explains.

“Oh, and let you two off the hook?” Roman asks.

“That’s not what I said, just refrain from physically harming us.”

“Fine, I won’t shoot you again,” Roman scoffs.

“Good.”

Bzzzp Bzzzp

“What’s that?” Roman asks.

“Someone’s calling me,” I say as I grab my phone from my pocket.

“It’s De-,” Roman raises his eyebrows at me, “uhh, it’s the head villain.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Logan teases.

I answer the phone.

“Where are you?” Deceit asks.

“Hello to you too.”

“Where. Are. You?”

“Geez. I’m at a birthday party with Logan.”

“I don’t want to alarm you, but you’re in Moral Daisy’s house,” Deceit warns.

Previous, Next.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fic #fanfic #iwillphysicallyfiteyou

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thegremlinofransei · 5 years

Text

Welcome to the Family | Ch. 5

Resident Evil 7 AU

Fandom: Split, Glass

Rating: M (strong language, intense violence ⚠️THIS ONE’S A DOOZY)

Word Count: ~2.9K

Summary: Casey is left to work on an escape plan. However, Dennis will do anything to make sure she never leaves.

———————

The dark hallway was clear, but that didn’t stop Casey from slowly guiding the iron door closed in case any of her dinner partners were lying in wait. This mysterious Jade girl, whom she had an inkling might have been a member of this twisted family once upon a time, had told her to exit through the main hall. She consulted the map she had picked up in the laundry room. Just at the other end of the hall, she observed. Simple enough.

Neatly folding the worn paper, she shoved it back into her pocket and tiptoed forth. The only new development in her setting was a gaping hole in the wall that led into the closet where Dennis had nearly cornered her. She concluded that he had beat through it with his shovel in a fit of rage while she was climbing to the safety of the laundry room. Thankfully, her pursuer had retreated elsewhere, but she kept her guard up in case he was watching from some dark corner.

Her path led into one final corridor, punctuated at its opposite end by a barbed window similar to the one by the kitchen, on the left side with a set of double doors, and on the right with an oak chest of drawers lined with picture frames. Out of curiosity, Casey approached the photographs, hoping to find a few clues as to whom she was up against.

The first frame she noticed was flipped down, and she lifted it to inspect the image. A young woman, seemingly not much older than Casey, sat sternly in a white cardigan and black dress in front of a garden. All she could make out of the woman’s face was a gaunt jawline and tousled raven bob of hair, as the eyes had been scratched away.

Jade, Casey deduced before chuckling dryly. Is she a traitor to their cannibal cult or something?

The next was a simple headshot of the son from earlier. Luke, she recalled, unsettled by the douchey smirk disgracing his face. Apart from a greasy pallor in his more recent complexion, he hardly looked different between the photograph and the wretched meal.

The true nature of the drastic change of this family was reflected in the next frame. Dennis and Patricia stood beside each other, smiling and glowing and exuding nothing but familial warmth. Dennis’s shirt was tightly fit without a wrinkle to be seen, and the light from the flash photography gleamed off his shaved head and square-rimmed glasses as he gave a grin to the camera. Meanwhile, Patricia stood next to him in a pressed burgundy blouse and black skirt, her pitch hair tied back in a small twist as she gave a matching smile and gripped her husband’s hand.

Finally, Casey turned to the double doors. While built of heavy iron, these were much newer and hardly fit in with the dilapidated house. The most out-of-place part of the sight was an incomplete crest adorning it to the left of center with a set of enormous slide bolts barring it to a valve crank on the other side. It was intended to depict a centaur, but while the torso was raised, the horse body was missing. Upon peering closer, she found a few small trigger releases embedded in the indentation, exactly deep enough that she couldn’t press any of them.

“Just where the hell am I supposed to find half of a fucking crest?” Casey hissed as she whipped around and chucked the picture of Luke at the barricaded window. The longer she spent in this sinister estate, the more difficult it was to keep her emotions in check. All she could feel was rage and fear boiling in her veins.

No, she told herself, reining in her frustration. Keep looking. It has to be around here somewhere. If you throw a tantrum now, you’re only proving yourself to be truly desperate. They can sense your fear.

It suddenly dawned on her. The cooler in the laundry room. It had to be holding something valuable. If not the crest, then at least something she can use to force the door open.

She hurried back down the hall, praying that the cooler was so clean because Jade used it to hold a stash of supplies, seeing as it was only accessible via the hatch when the laundry room door was locked. As she neared the door, though, she heard a firm knocking from the window by the garage. A flashlight shone in through the barbed wire, and she could hear a gruff voice commanding her to open up.

Casey sprinted to the window, ecstatic and tearful to see a human face speaking with a human voice, desperate for a reminder that there was a normal world outside of this circle of hell despite having been a part of it only a few hours ago. She collided with the window, finding a buff police officer standing outside. As he staggered back, she pleaded, “Please, sir, you have to help me.”

“Hold on, back up,” the officer ordered gently, looking her stoically in the eyes. “Now, miss, do you live here? I mean, is this your family’s property?”

She was taken aback by his slightly accusatory tone, but shook her head after a split second as she played up her hysterical tears.

The officer sighed heavily. “Alright. Now, we got several calls about missing persons lately.”

Casey, once grateful for the calm demeanor of a friendly face, was now pissed off at how he seemed to insinuate that she was involved with the disappearances. “You don’t understand, I gotta get out of here!” she responded frantically, clapping her hand against the trim around the window.

“Now, hold on,” he commanded sharply, his expression changing to that of full suspicion.

“Officer, please, listen to me. There are crazy people in this house trying to fucking kill me!”

He chuckled sardonically at her aggression, showing little mercy for the apparent outsider. “Alright, well let me tell you something, kid. You don’t look like you’re playing with a full deck yourself.”

Casey’s eyes flared open, and her anger did little to help her case. “Are you kidding me?” she spat with the venom of a black mamba.

Resuming his seriousness, he calmed his tone to explain again. “Look, like I said, we’ve had several missing persons calls, and I can’t rule out that an outsider like yourself may be involved.”

She took a deep breath, exasperated by this new example on her long list of times the justice system had blamed her as a victim. In a calmed tone, she responded, “Alright, I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

“Alright, now that’s more like it. Meet me in the garage. We’ll talk there.”

“Wait!” she called after him. He turned around and allowed her to speak. “There’s tape over the button for the door. I don’t have anything sharp enough to cut through it. Please, I don’t know if these bastards are coming back for me, I can’t fight them off on my own…”

As her voice and mind trailed off into madness, it finally sunk in how many alarms she must be setting off in the officer’s mind. However, the most she could do to appear worthy of his calculating sympathy was plead through her glazed eyes.

After about a minute of staring down this frazzled girl, the officer rolled his eyes and slowly pulled his pocket knife out of his belt and handed it through the window. “I’ll be wanting this back. Now get your ass down to the garage.”

With that, he turned away, and Casey gave a deep sigh of relief. Freedom was finally within her grasp, and even if the cops decided to arrest her, she’d still be in a clean safe cell instead of this festering cesspool, and she could finally go home to Marcia and sob the physical and emotional pain away into a friendly embrace.

Casey opened the pocket knife and started for the descending stairs. A small crate sat by the door, and she cut it open. Bullets. Wish I had a gun to use them with, she grumbled as she slipped the magazine into her pocket. She moved over to the rusty control box and slipped the knife into the crack of the door. It slid through the tape with little issue, and she pulled it open. A giant red button sat in the middle of the box, and she held it down as the shutter door creaked open.

A police car flashed its red and blue beacons just outside the larger door on the opposite end, and the officer was kneeled on the concrete floor, investigating a dark puddle. She slid the knife closed and put it in the pocket with the map.

She began to speak, tears of joy choking her voice. “Thank you…we have to get the hell out of-”

The officer spun to his feet and approached her in a fury. “Now first you need to tell me what you’re doing out here alone in the middle of the night, kid!”

“Wha…what about you?”

“It’s my damn job! Now do yours and answer me!”

Her chest heaved with sobs at the stress of being yelled at. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.“

However, when she heard the scraping groan, she wished the officer would have just cuffed her and taken her to the car right then. Her eyes widened with fear and the color drained from her face as her suspicions were confirmed by the damning sight across the room.

The garage door was lowering. And she could hear it happening behind her, too.

The officer turned around and, realizing what was happening, turned back to her and yelled at her to put the door back up. Despite his desperate commands, she staggered back as she saw the imposing figure strut up behind him with his shovel raised.

When she hit the wall behind her, the impact was punctuated by Dennis thrusting his weapon through the officer’s scalp.

His body went slack, and Casey watched in horror as it fell to the ground, spurting blood and gray matter. Dennis pulled the shovel back, eyeing up his next prey with a maniacal grimace. Before taking a step closer, he beat the shovel against the ground, trying to get the sticky scalp off so he would have a relatively clean shovel to do his work with. This was when she saw her chance for a last stand.

The officer’s gun was lying on the floor.

She dove for it and scrambled out of the way as quickly as possible, checking it for ammunition. Fully loaded. With the magazine she picked up, she could take him with a few decent shots. That is, assuming he can only take as many shots to the face as Kevin could.

Once behind a row of shelves, she heard the scalp finally shake free with a disgustingly slick noise. By her left thigh, a car key sat gleaming in the fluorescent lights. She picked it up, darted her gaze to a battered white car by the outside door, and bolted.

“Fuck it! I’m killing every one of you!” Dennis shouted from across the garage as Casey threw the driver’s door open. Slamming it shut behind her, she saw that he had raised the shovel, aiming at the front hood. She hastily jammed the key into the ignition as he continued to beat the engine with the shovel. Once she finally threw it into gear, he had moved in front of her, standing tall and glowering at her, issuing a single taunt.

“Come on.”

Casey gassed it, slamming Dennis into the opposite wall with her front bumper and thanking God for the lack of airbags despite the initial shock. This motherfucker isn’t going down with one hit, she reminded herself, and she reversed to line up another slam. Almost as if on cue, he stood up, a menacing smirk on his face as he ripped the remnants of his shredded shirt off and raised his shovel.

The next impact was so intense it shattered the windows and crumpled the bumper, barely missing what could have been a fatal blow to the engine. As Casey backed up again to deal another blow, Dennis darted behind a rack of tool shelves, and she swerved around to square up. Accelerating again, she braced herself for the force of colliding with the rack, but realized too late that she had barely even grazed him.

Dennis leapt on top of the car and ripped the roof off, climbing into the driver’s seat with Casey and laughing hysterically in her face.

Asserting himself over every control, he started by kicking the car into reverse and slamming them into the wall. Casey coughed out a small “shit!” as the rear impact knocked the air from her lungs. Dennis continued by crossing the room and swinging the rear of the car into the last rig of shelves. With his free hand, he assisted the force of the vehicle in thrusting the steel beams constructing the shelves into the cheap wood wall, then drove back to the other side of the garage.

“Where’d you learn to drive?” he retorted, straightening the tires and putting their vehicle on a collision course with the steel beams.

Casey tried to wrestle Dennis’s grip away from the steering wheel, but he simultaneously pinned her arms and legs with his left arm and leaned over to steer with his right. Lining up with the girders protruding from the opposite wall he looked down to her, his eyes as cold and vicious as the torment that followed.

“Let’s finish this, you and I.”

He slammed on the accelerator, cackling as the girl in his grip screamed at the girder coming exponentially closer to her skull. She hunkered down as far in her seat as she could, and when the collision finally occurred, her ears were ringing.

Everything hurts…am I…alive…

Casey let her eyes drift open, and the first thing she saw was blood smeared over her white knuckles, now returned to the steering wheel. She lifted her head just half an inch before hitting the beam above her, and grunted at the dull roar that caused her body to ache as she looked to her right.

Dennis’s corpse was a gore-smeared disaster. The beam had partially crushed him, and blood was splattered everywhere Casey could see as his frontal lobe protruded through his eye socket, vacated by the sensory organ that now laid in her lap. His glasses had shattered into his other eye, and his neck was snapped to an odd angle that let the blood from his crushed internal organs spill from his mouth.

Casey gingerly stumbled out through the barely-hinged door on her side, taking shallow breaths as it sunk in how lucky she was to even be walking. She smelled gas leaking, and she knew what came next. Scrambling to the other side of the room, she pulled her gun and turned to watch the car go up in flames.

A charred arm extended from the passenger side, and Dennis stepped out in a ball of fire like a zombified phoenix. Without hesitation, Casey aimed directly for his throat and fired, causing him to falter. He continued toward her, and she shot him several more times in the face.

FWOOM!

The gas tank combusted, and Casey was thrown back against the wall as Dennis fell onto his face. The gasoline puddle only extended halfway over to her, so she was out of the fire’s range. He wasn’t so lucky.

With one final explosion, Dennis’s incinerated corpse flew to her feet, and in a few pained motions, she stood on wobbly legs. Before moving, she took aim at his bared ribcage, but there was no sign of him attempting to stand again. She crept cautiously over to a ladder that led to a loft, where something shiny had caught her eye.

Her hand landed firmly on the first rung, and was forcibly accompanied by Dennis’s.

She whipped around in fright to find herself staring into two functioning eyes, seemingly untouched. They… they’ve regenerated…

He grabbed the gun in her hand and aimed it at his chin, growling low. “Do I have your attention, bitch?” he asked menacingly. “You are about to see something wonderful.”

Dennis put the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

“Fuck!” Casey screamed in shock as his face exploded onto her and he stumbled back, letting her hand with the gun fall back to her side. He collapsed in a bloody, burnt mess on the floor. After watching for a minute to make sure he was actually dead, she turned back to the ladder, shaking as she ascended.

A frame sat on a small workbench, surrounding a large golden insignia of a horse’s body. Relieved to finally see something helpful, she lifted it and turned it over. After undoing the screw on the back, the missing crest came off, and she gripped the cold metal tightly.

Casey rummaged for some more supplies. Bullets here, antibiotics there…she had to get moving. There was a small alcove behind the workbench, and she mustered her strength to shove it aside.

After a small jump down from the loft, she landed back at the staircase that originally led her into this unlikely arena, and she hustled back inside to the newfound warmth of the destroyed house.

———————

A/N: I’m sorry this came at like 1AM Sunday, guys! College apps went live this week and I have to read the thickest book ever written 😅 At least I got it done, and BOY WAS THIS ONE FUN! Make sure to like, comment, reblog, and ask to be tagged!

Tag List:

@lady-serenitty

@martina-leanza

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youngbloodseavey · 5 years

Text

it started with a spider... // zach herron (part two)

moodboard by @zendayacolemen

request: none

summary: while balancing superhero life and normal life, teenage superhero zach herron suddenly has a new variable swing into his balance. a love life.

sORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG MY LIFE HAS BEEN A MESS BUT IT’S OKAY I GOT IT OUT NOW

pairing: zach x fem!reader

triggers: underaged drinking

“wait, so like, can you lay eggs?” corbyn whispered to zach, much to zach’s discouragement. it had been like this all day, corbyn asking the most random questions at the most inconvenient times.

like right then, when corbyn and zach were supposed to be working on a project in engineering class.

“no i don’t corbyn, now you better start working on that or else i’m going to scream,” zach replied, pointing to a piece of their project. corbyn sighed and nodded, picking up a screwdriver and beginning to tinker with the parts around him.

zach sighed in content at being able to finally sway his blonde haired friend from his incessant questioning, and resumed in his work.

silence fell between the two teens, and they worked comfortably for a few minutes.

“so can you spit venom?”

“corbyn!”

“i still can’t believe you got invited to one of y/n y/l/n’s parties,” corbyn remarked, his blue eyes focused on the tv screen as he shot yet another person in fortnite. he was sat next to zach on a big red beanbag that was stationed in the middle of zach’s room.

“trust me, i can’t believe it either,” zach responded, scrolling through twitter on his phone.

it was an hour until the party started, and the boys were passing time the only way they knew how- by playing fortnite.

the two boys sat in silence for a moment or two, the only sounds being the various fortnite noises coming from the tv.

“so do you-” corbyn began to ask yet another spiderman-related question, but thankfully was cut off by the sound of zach’s phone going off.

zach let out a breath of relief and clicked on the notification, seeing that the text was from y/n. his stomach was sent into a flurry of butterflies, and he could feel his cheeks turn a shade redder than they normally are.

y/n: so you’re coming to my party tonight?

zach: absolutely. 8:00 right?

y/n: yup. can’t wait to see you there :)

zach sighed in content, setting his phone down on his chest. a wide grin spread across his face, and his mind became mush at the thought of seeing her tonight.

“was that y/n?” corbyn quickly glanced at zach before looking back at his game.

“yup,” zach sighed happily.

“you are so whipped man.” corbyn commented, seeing the dopey, lovesick grin on zach’s reddened face.

“shut up,” zach groaned, taking the pillow that was laying next to him and throwing it at corbyn.

“never.” corbyn stuck his tongue out at zach before focusing back onto the tv screen. there was only 5 people left in the game, and corbyn was one of them. zach rolled his big brown eyes, deciding to ignore his friend’s comment and focus on the game.

“behind you! behind you!” zach yelled at corbyn, pointing at the opponent that was shooting at corbyn. corbyn quickly worked the controls, turning his character around and shooting at the other player.

“boys! it’s time to leave now!” zach heard his aunt may yell through the bedroom door.

“one minute!” zach responded, both his and corbyn looking intensely at their game.

“if you have one more minute, you’re gonna be late to this girl’s party! do you want to be late to your first ever high school party?” aunt may chided from the outside, cracking the door open and poking her head in.

aunt may was zach’s aunt, and the person he was sent to live with when his parents died. she was in her mid-thirties, with long brown hair and kind brown eyes. she was his mother in all ways but biologically, and one of zach’s closest friends and confidants.

“okay! give us one minute, corbyn is literally about to win.” zach called to his aunt, his brown eyes never once leaving the screen. it was now down to corbyn and another player, and the two were having an intense face-off.

“hell yeah!” corbyn yelled, throwing his controller onto the beanbag. the big letters saying “#1 victory royale” painted themselves on the screen, indicating corbyn’s win. the two boys cheered, zach congratulating corbyn on his impressive win.

“now can we leave? you guys are gonna be late,” aunt may said once again, corbyn and zach nodding in response. the two teens grabbed their phones and stood up, leaving zach’s room.

the three piled into may’s car, since neither zach or corbyn legally had their license yet. the car ride to y/n’s was smooth, with minimal questioning coming from may and mediocre answers from the boys.

soon enough they pulled up to y/n’s house, which was nothing short of a mansion.

“woah,” zach looked at the large, modern house in awe.

“woah indeed,” corbyn commented from the backseat. “you chose yourself a good one zach.”

“oh shut up,” zach groaned, flipping down the sun visor and looking into the mirror that was located on the back of it. he ran his hands through his hair a few times, making sure every strand was in perfect position. he took in a deep breath, taking another look-over himself before opening the car door and beginning to get out.

“have fun!” aunt may called out to the boys as they got out. “stay safe! and no drugs! or alcohol! or sex!” she winked at the end, causing zach to turn red and immediately slam the door on his aunt.

“i’m glad that’s over with,” zach grumbled, seeing the smug look on may’s face as she began to drive away. “you ready for this?” he turned to corby, who gave an apprehensive nod.

the pair began to walk up the driveway, and zach could practically already taste the alcohol and drugs. the music was already loud as is, and with zach’s heightened senses it was practically deafening. a pit began to form in zach’s stomach, making him feel uneasy.

he winced, but pushed on anyway. corbyn and himself made it to the large, glass front door, and he raised his hand to knock. he hesitated for a moment, but knocked anyway.

the two waited for a second, before a tall boy with grey-blue eyes opened the door. he was clearly intoxicated, and zach recognized him as jonah marais, the captain of the varsity baseball team.

“whats up my dudes! come on in!” jonah slurred, clearly not recognizing the two whom the highschool hierarchy had deemed the bottom of the food chain.

jonah gave them a bro-hug before stumbling off to god-knows-where, probably to try and succeed in seducing one of the varsity soccer girls.

corbyn and zach exchanged a confused look, before entering into the hub of the party. they were immediately encapsulated in a mixture of body heat, the stench of booze, and the sight of bodies practically on top of each other.

there couldn’t be anything less than 250 people crammed into y/n’s giant house. it was practically the entire senior class in a single place, including the occasional junior or sophomore.

zach craned his neck, looking around for the comforting face of y/n. he finally spotted the gorgeous girl near the double doors that led to the backyard, and his heart skipped a beat or two at the sight of her.

y/n took her eyes off the person she was talking to for a few seconds, before seeing zach across the room. a bright smile spread across her face at the boy, and she waved at him animatedly to come over.

zach nodded, staring at the dense crowd and back to y/n, who was still gesturing him to go over to her. he gulped, feeling his chest tighten as he realized that he had to somehow fight his way across the crowd to y/n.

after a minute of squeezing in between sweaty bodies and almost having drinks spilled on him many times, he finally made it out of the initial crowd. y/n was standing only ten feet away now.

he ran his fingers through his hair one more time, taking in a deep breath before approaching the beautiful girl. she was dressed like an instagram model, with her hair falling down her back in soft curls and her makeup done perfectly.

zach’s breath was taken away, and this time it wasn’t because of two random people squishing him between them. it was because of her.

“h-hey there y/n,” zach managed to get out, his voice barely audible over the thumping music.

“hi zach!” she pulled him into a hug, her arms draping themselves over his shoulders. “i’m so glad you could make it!” she began to pull him into the kitchen, which was gorgeously furnished and littered with bottles and cups.

“do you wanna drink?” she asked, gesturing to the wide array of bottles laid out in front of her.

“uh, sure!” he replied, feeling nerves bubble up in his stomach. he had never had more alcohol than a tiny sip of aunt may’s champagne every new year’s eve.

y/n hummed, reaching down into one of the coolers and pulling out a can of bud light. she handed zach the cold can, grabbing one for herself and popping the tab open.

zach stared at the blue can, unsure of what to do with it.

“you know, you’re supposed to open it,” y/n giggled, taking a sip of her own beer. her nose scrunched up at the sensation of the liquid hitting her tastebuds, but she swallowed it down regardless. “i’m not much of a beer kind of girl, but we gotta work with what we have.” she let out another laugh, taking yet another sip of the amber liquid.

zach slowly popped open the tab, hearing the ‘pop’ of the can opening. he brought the can to his lips, the liquid flowing into his mouth and coating his tastebuds. he almost gagged at the flavor, but swallowed anyway.

“hey corbyn do you-” zach turned around to offer his friend some of the drink, but was instead greeted with the sight of his blonde best friend chatting with christina harris.

good for you corb.

zach took another sip of beer, choking the liquid down. his eyes swept his surroundings, seeing and hearing the sea of teenagers that were crammed in the house.

“so, are you enjoying the party?” y/n’s melody of a voice met zach’s ears, and he turned back to look at the gorgeous girl.

“it’s not my kind of scene, but yeah!” zach replied, trying to seep some enthusiasm into his voice. in reality, zach felt on the edge of a panic attack, the pit in his stomach growing. something was off. something was going to go wrong, he could feel it.

zach’s stomach turned, and he couldn’t help but feel his brow furrow and his chest tighten. his head began to throb, a pulsating pain originating from the back of his head.

something bad is happening.

just as the thought ran through zach’s mind, all the lights in the house suddenly went dark. the loud, blaring music was silenced, and all that could be heard was the confused mumblings of a hundred or so teenagers.

then, a scream.

a loud, high-pitched shriek rang out, sending a horrifying shiver down zach’s back.

“who was that?” zach yelled, the black hole in his stomach deepening. “who screamed? is everyone okay?”

“help me! help me! hel-” his ear caught a voice, sending a shock through his veins and his heart to skip a beat.

y/n. that’s y/n’s voice.

“y/n! where are you!” zach was sent into a frenzy, pushing his way through the crowd and looking about wildly as his eyes began to adjust to the darkness.

“please! help m-” her voice sounded strained, distressed. zach spun in circles, trying to locate the girl that he had been in love with since freshman year.

suddenly zach’s eyes caught a glint in the darkness, and he squinted for a second before his eyes focused.

green.

the golden glaze of his eyes, and dark green metallic of his suit. it was an enemy that zach knew all too well.

“have fun getting your little girly back spider-man.” his haunting, raspy tone rang in zach’s ears, causing the brown-eyed boy’s pulse to race and stomach to tighten.

and with that final taunt the lights came back on, and the viliain had disappeared. the previously bumping party had fallen into a frenzy, with terrified teenagers running about and yelling.

but zach stood still, not even caring that people were practically trampling him in an effort to get the hell out of the house. his mind raced, finally beginning to wrap itself around the situation.

green goblin had took y/n. he has y/n.

taglist: @heyowdw @boomboomboomwayhoo @corbynscabbitch @ashaverykuwonumara @samithepixie @guadalupeguac @underoosmarvel @socially-awkward-xox @limelightmendes @onmywaymarais @why-dont-we-everything @seaveygirl @dailydoseofherron @lynaminroll @74limelight @brini144@jacieesewell @vxxn128 @saving-seavey @hoobii @bambixcx@kittkatt-03 @loveherron23 @jasmin3k @peachyherron @wdw4forever @danieljames1998 @yagirlcammmm @toomanydamfandoms @xxx-allison-xxx @alyssaah15

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