#i’m so sorry about my absence ahh whoops

[aesthetography]

- the golden hour -

[zabdidaddi]

zabdiel de jesús - de verdad

A/N: hey yall, this is my submission for @papichriscnco ’s writing challenge!! this sweet girl just hit 2.4k followers on tumblr and no one deserves it more :)) also i thought of that tweet that zabdiel posted a while ago so that kinda served as some inspiration for this fic (and maybe some real life experiences as well whoops)

prompt: “I’m sorry for bothering you”

warnings: FLUFF

word count: 1.4k

You cast a glance at Zabdiel as he stares at the TV screen with a tired frown on his face. For the past hour or so, you and the boys had been watching a horror movie in Richard’s hotel room, but Zabdiel’s mind seems to be elsewhere.

Suddenly, you feel a hand on your shoulder as Erick yells, “BOO!” Letting out a yelp, you lean away from him instinctively and crash into Zabdiel. Erick bursts out laughing at your reaction, but Zabdiel, on the other hand, doesn’t seem too amused.

“Que estás haciendo?” He snaps at Erick crankily. Erick quickly turns his attention back to the screen, mumbling an apology. Turning to you, Zabdiel quietly asks ,“You okay?” to which you respond with a nod. Your heart skips a beat as he wraps an arm around your shoulder to pull you away from Erick and closer to him. Having been friends with the boys for years, you’re pretty close to all of them, especially Zabdiel; you’ve liked him for a while but too scared to tell him.

“You?” you ask tentatively. He nods as well, but you can sense that something’s off about him. You decide not to push it for now, though. For the remainder of the movie, you just sit there with Zabdiel’s arm around you as he falls asleep. Meanwhile, you continue to watch the screen in terror and will yourself not to scream so as not to wake the sleeping boy next to you.

When the movie finally ends, the illuminated screen flickers off, leaving the six of you in near-total darkness. Your heart hammers so loudly in your chest you’re nearly certain the other boys can hear it. But when you glance around at their faces in the dimness, you can tell that they’re probably just as scared. The only person who doesn’t seem affected at all is Zabdiel who is still sleeping.

“Shows over Zabdi,” Joel says from his other side, nudging him. “Wake up.” Zabdiel merely grunts in response, but reluctantly gets to his feet when you untangle yourself from him.  As everyone except Richard walks back, you slow down a little to walk next to Zabdiel. He gives you a small smile and wraps an arm around your shoulder as the five of you are walking. You press your body against his side, the movie seeming less scary than it was a few seconds ago.

Unfortunately, Zabdiel gets to his room first and he mutters a quick “Goodnight” to everyone as he gives you a brief hug before slipping inside.

Suddenly, with the absence of Zabdiel’s arm around you, the dark shadows in the hall seem to become more pronounced. Shivering, you wrap your arms around yourself and shuffle forward quickly to get to your room. You bid the other boys goodnight as well then unlock your door and dart inside before closing the door. Kicking your shoes off, you quickly turn the lights off then throw yourself onto your bed and crawl under the sheets. For a few moments, you just lay there with your eyes squeezed shut. You try to calm your racing heart down, but your imagination is running way too wild for that. After twenty long minutes, you bolt upright and decide that you can’t stay in your room any longer. Without quite knowing what you’re doing, you slide off your bed and out your door. Somehow, you find yourself in front of Zabdiel’s door and knock on it a few times. To your surprise, it swings open a few seconds later to reveal Zabdiel blearily rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. When he sees you standing at his door, he freezes for a split second.

“(Y/N)?” He asks, stifling a yawn. “Que pasa?”

“I just…” You trail off, not knowing how to explain to Zabdiel that the movie is still haunting you and you specifically want his company. In the end, you mutter, “I’m scared.”

Without saying anything, he pulls you towards him for a hug, then guides you to his bed. “You want to stay here tonight?” He asks you gently, still keeping an arm around your shoulder. You nod silently, already embarrassed enough that you can’t sleep on your own. He gestures for you to lie down on his bed and you move to the other side of it before doing so. He stands up to turn the light off and you feel the bed dip a little when he lies down beside you.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. Then, you ask, “Are you sure you’re okay Zabdi?”

He doesn’t reply for a while, then says, “Sí, pero I’m just a bit stressed. And tired.”
 “Stressed?” you ask, turning your head towards him in the darkness. “About what?”

“No sé,” he sighs. Something in his voice makes your heart ache, and you reach out to brush your fingers against his. Then, he grasps your hand gently in his and says, “Está bien, nena.” Your heart flutters at his little nickname, but that feeling only lasts for a moment before the sudden thud of something falling on the floor makes your heart leap in terror. You retract your hand from Zabdiel’s and curl up into a ball with your hands pressed against your ears. A moment later, you feel his hands gently prying yours away from your head. “Was the movie that scary?” He asks with a slight chuckle, still holding onto your hands. When you don’t respond, he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. The terror that had gripped you gradually ebbs away as Zabdiel rubs circles on your back, calming you down.

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” you mutter after a while. His hand stops in the middle of your back in surprise.

“What are you saying?” Zabdiel asks in confusion.

“I mean… it’s late and I literally just barged into your room,” you state the obvious with a shrug. “Sorry Zabdi.” He lets out a little sound that sounds like “ahh” and your eyes have adjusted to the darkness just enough to see the smile on his face. Then, it slowly disappears, and you hear him let out a small sigh.

“(Y/N),” he starts slowly, his fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. “You’re my best friend.”

“I know,” you reply with a small frown, the word “friend” making you feel a little disappointed for some reason. But you know that that’s what all the boys have ever seen you as - their best friend. He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, and you’re starting to think that he’s fallen asleep when he starts to speak again.

“I don’t know how to say this,” he sighs, then mumbles something in Spanish and groans.

“Zabdi?” you say uncertainly, not quite knowing where this is going. “You okay?”

“Te amo,” he blurts out. “Te fucking amo.”

“Huh?” you whisper in a croak. What did he just say? Suddenly, you can’t think and your heart is beating a hundred miles an hour, your throat is dry, you feel like you can’t breathe, and —

“I wasn’t stressed,” Zabdiel says quietly. “I just wanted to tell you a long time ago but I didn’t know how. And… I’ve never said that to anyone before.”

You gulp when you realize that he’s probably telling the truth; never in a million years would you have thought that Zabdiel of all people would be the one to confess their love to you, especially when he always tells everyone he’s never been in love before. Zabdiel himself never thought those words would ever leave his lips either, but here he is, feeling more vulnerable than he’s ever felt in his entire life. 
“Well,” you begin, taking a deep breath. Before you can stop yourself, you tell him, “Tambien te amo.”

“De verdad?” he breathes, as if not daring to believe it. 

“De verdad verdad,” you giggle, the sound of your laughter making Zabdiel’s heart melt. He reaches out to brush his fingers against your cheek.

“You still scared?” he asks with a grin. The movie had faded to the back of your mind, but you can’t help but feel a little twinge of fear when he mentions it.

“Thanks for reminding me,” you mutter, eliciting a quiet chuckle from him.

“It’s okay, I’ll protect you,” he says, wrapping his arms around you even tighter. You raise an eyebrow dubiously, not sure if he can even see your face clearly, but he laughs again. Then, he places his lips on your forehead and whispers, “De verdad, nena.”

[trash-the-tozier]

That stozier story was so cute! If you're goign to do any more would you maybe consider 38 with stozier or stenborough?

Ahh thank you so much!! I’ll do stenbrough for this one, since I did stozier last time! oblivious!bill came out in full force during this i’m sorry in advancei am incapable of writing short fics why @ myself 

length: 2.4k | ao3warnings: noneprompt: 38. Everyone thinks we’re already dating, but we’re just best friends- oh wait

send me a cliche prompt (list here: x) and a pairing and i’ll write a drabble!

“Bill, sweetheart.”

Hearing his name caught his attention, Bill turning quickly. He was over at Stan’s house, the two doing homework up in Stan’s room. Bill had gone to the kitchen for a glass of water, Mrs. Uris stopping him at the edge of the stairs.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know if Stanley’s told you about it yet, but it’s Donald’s birthday this weekend and we’re having a bit of a party.” Donald was Mr. Uris, and Stan hadn’t mentioned anything about a birthday party to Bill yet. “I just wanted to let you know that you were completely welcome to come if you’d like.”

“Oh.” The words were completely normal and fine, but something about Mrs. Uris’s tone was striking Bill as strange. Almost like she was trying a little too hard to be welcoming, which was weird, because Bill had been coming over to Stan’s house and participating in various family functions of his since they were in middle school. “Yeah, thanks.”

After another smile and a little bit of a nod, Mrs. Uris returned to the living room, and Bill took the stairs two at a time to make it back to Stan’s room. Stan was on his bed with a book in hand, evidently having put the finishing touches on his English essay in Bill’s absence, and Bill put his water on the bedside table before flopping down next to him.

“That was weird.”

“What was?” Stan asked without looking, but shifting a little, moving his torso so Bill would have more room, but then flopping his legs over both of Bill’s own.

“Your mom. She just invited me to your dad’s birthday party.”

“Really?” That got Stan’s attention, looking at him with a slight frown on his face. “She said it was family only, so I didn’t mention it; I was afraid of Richie gatecrashing the thing.”

“I can not go, if you don’t want me to.”

“No, I mean… Do you want to? It’ll be me, and my parents, and then all of my dad’s brothers or something. You’ll probably get bored.”

“Nah, I’ll come. We’ll get to hang out, right? So that’ll be fun.”

“Oh, okay.” Stan smiled, a smile big enough to reach his eyes and show his teeth. “Yeah.”

As Stan had said, the party was only family, consisting mostly of Mr. Uris’s brothers, their wives, and their children, none of which were over the age of seven. Bill and Stan kept mostly to themselves, stuffing their faces with the snacks and lemonade that Mrs. Uris had prepared. At one point they retreated to the kitchen, leaning against the counter and talking, when Mrs. Uris walked in.

She seemed almost flustered to see them, grabbing a bowl of fruit salad from the fridge as quickly as she could and backing out, apologizing and saying “I’ll leave you two alone.” Bill couldn’t figure out what that was supposed to mean, about to ask when his attention was stolen by a firecracker going off outside.

As it turned out, one of Mr. Uris’s brothers had brought a box of small explosives to set off in Stan’s backyard. That ended up being the most fun of the evening, Stan and Bill stealing an entire box of sparklers for themselves, using Bill’s lighter to catch them on fire and watch them spark to life. When recounting the party to Beverly on Monday morning in their shared Chemistry class, Bill found himself describing the sparklers, how pretty they’d been in the sunset of Stan’s backyard, how the lights had caught Stan’s eyes, his eyes so bright despite the way they were already curved into crescents by the smile in his cheeks. Beverly, with safety goggles on and hair pulled back, rested her elbow on the lab table and put her chin in her hand with a sigh.

“You two are so cute.” She told him, and Bill couldn’t do much more than laugh.

“Thanks."

“Big ‘ol Billy Boy!” Richie caught Bill after school the following Friday, slinging an arm around his neck. “You free tonight?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” Bill answered, and Richie laughed.

“Wanna see a movie?”

“Oh?” For some reason, that wasn’t what Bill expected to hear. Not that he wouldn’t want to see a movie with Richie, but still. “I think Stan and I were going to hang out.”

“Sure, okay.” Richie shrugged, readjusting his glasses. Then, “Does he want to come too?”

“I don’t know.” Bill didn’t really see why not. He and Stan didn’t have any plans more concrete than “hang out”, but he didn’t want to speak on Stan’s behalf. He didn’t end up needing to; Stan was standing in the student parking lot with Eddie, the two of them talking, Richie and Bill coming up to meet them.

“Stanley, my wise old manley.” Richie said, a strange grandioseness to his voice as he slung an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie kissed his cheek in greeting, lifting up on his tip-toes to reach. “Eds and I wanna see a movie tonight, and I already invited Bill; you in?”

Stan glanced over at Bill, who simply looked back, unsure of how to convey “I didn’t say yes, but I also didn’t say no” with just a facial expression. After a moment, Stan shrugged.

“Yeah, sure. Sounds fun.”

“Yeah!” Richie shot his fist into the air with excitement. “Me and Eddie, and Bill and Stan! It’ll be a double date!”

And double date it was… Sort of. It was a date for Eddie and Richie, sure; they’d already been boyfriends for two years and going strong. For Bill and Stan, it was just any other time they’d gone to see a movie together in the theater--though Bill had a feeling that Return of the Living Dead III would not have been Stan’s movie of choice, which was what they ended up buying tickets to.

Richie liked to put his hand on the small of Eddie’s back as they walked, using it to steer him in the right direction when he was too busy arguing a point in Richie’s face and making sharp hand gestures at the same time. It was cute, a casual but intimate touch all the same, Bill barely noticing when Stan did the same thing as they entered the theater to help lead him to their seats.

Richie and Eddie had one giant popcorn between them, the carton half empty by the time the movie actually began, munching with open mouths as they talked in whispers about what was on the screen. Stan and Bill were also sharing a large popcorn, their hands brushing when they reached for it at the same time, Stan occasionally pelting pieces of it at Richie and Eddie when they got too loud. Stan managed to get five pieces to actually stay in Richie’s mess of curls, Bill laughing at each one.

The movie actually got tense towards the end, Bill pulled from the action on screen by the way Richie would squawk and curl into Eddie at loud noises and gruesome imagery. On Bill’s other side was Stan, gripping onto Bill’s arm rather hard, wincing and turning his head in Bill’s direction at the scares, only a breath away from pressing his face into Bill’s shoulder. Eddie was giving whoops and hollers, egging the zombie on to just eat everyone, while Bill was just pretending to be brave, wanting to be something for Stan to hold on to.

Eddie complained loudly about the end of the movie as they walked home, pausing at the crossroads where they all had to part ways. Richie leaned down to scoop Eddie up in a goodbye kiss, and knowing that it would take a few moments, Bill averted his eyes, directing his attention to Stan.

The moon was high in the sky, reflecting off Stan’s cheeks and the delicate curls in his hair. Stan glanced back at Bill, a resigned sort of expression on his face--Richie and Eddie had been dating too long for shared looks of pretend disgust to really be funny anymore--and his eyes caught the light, the same way the sparklers had the weekend before. Bill felt a sort of tug in his chest. Richie and Eddie were still kissing in the background, and a quick, unexpected thought crossed Bill’s mind--how he wouldn’t mind kissing Stan.

But as soon as the thought was there it was gone, Richie trying to pick Eddie up and knocking into Stan, nearly toppling all of them to the ground.

People around Bill were acting weird, and Bill couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. His parents always asked him why Stan wasn’t coming over, if he ended up spending the weekend at home, or why they weren’t going out to do something together. Even some of the Losers seemed surprised if they asked him where Stan was and he didn’t have an answer. As a result, Bill did end up spending more time with Stan, just because he was the only person actually acting normal. They did everything that they usually did, getting milkshakes and laying out on the grass at the park, Stan looking and pointing out the different birds he could see, Bill looking at Stan. Stan’s parents would go out on dates and Stan would invite Bill over, the two of them laughing through an attempt at making themselves dinner and watching stupid sitcoms on TV. Stan would sit close to him on the couch, their bodies becoming more and more relaxed as they sat there, reclining into a position that, more often than not, had them lying on each other and dozing off.

Eventually though, it got to a point that Bill decided to ask Ben about it.

“Why do people keep talking to me about Stan? I mean, we hang out a lot, but... It’s not like I like him more than I like the rest of you guys.”

“You--you don’t?” Ben asked, sounding both completely blindsided and curiously hesitant.

“I like all of you guys, Ben.”

“Yeah, but…” Ben frowned at him, then his whole face lit up in understanding, his mouth opening, his eyebrows going up. “Oh. Oh, oh no.”

“What?”

“No, no, nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Ben, you have to tell me.” Bill stopped him, taking Ben by the shoulders. “What’s going on?”

“Well, we all…” Ben didn’t want to look him in the eye. “Bill, the way you look at Stan… Sometimes, it’s like the rest of us aren’t even there. And… He’s always looking at you. The Losers, we thought… We kinda thought you two were dating.”

“What?” Bill asked, thinking Ben was joking. But he sounded too serious for it to be a joke, and Ben never lied to him, so it had to be real. Even more surprising, Bill found his mind not automatically rejecting the idea. Going on dates with Stan, holding Stan’s hand, kissing him… Kissing him.

Bill wanted to kiss him. All he really had to do was figure out a way to ask.

Asking was proving to be difficult. He tried to think of something that would send a kind of a hint, a date sort of activity they could do together before Bill properly asked him out. The problem was, all of the things he came up with were things that they normally did, just as friends. An attempt to make those activities more romantic had them feeling over the top and sappy, and that wasn’t what he wanted either.

Realization came to Bill at Mike’s house, when he was supposed to be working on a history assignment and his mind was wandering. He sat upright in his seat, so quickly that Mike gave a start.

“Oh. Fuck.”

“Bill?” Mike’s voice was hesitant. “You okay? Is something wrong?”

“Mike, I… I’m stupid.” Was all Bill could think to say, Mike’s eyebrows going up his forehead.

“What do you mean?”

Bill began shoving his books haphazardly into his bag, not even noticing the papers getting bent every which way as he did so. He had to go. He had a question to ask.

“I’m--I’ve been trying to think of a way to go on a date with Stan, but, but…” Mike was looking at him with complete incredulity now-- “But I’m already dating Stan!”

He took off from Mike’s house as fast as he could, urging Silver down the street. He came to a screeching stop at Stan’s front door, knocking hard and hoping Stan was home.

Thankfully, neither of Stan’s parents came to the door. It was Stan, a pencil in his hand and a concerned look on his face.

“I saw you through the window, you look--is everything alright?”

“Stan, are we dating?”

Stan looked at him for a couple of moments before laughing. Then Bill didn’t laugh back, his face falling into something more serious.

“What are you talking about?”

“I… I didn’t notice it before, we went on the double date with Eddie and Richie that… That it was a date, right? We sat together, and we shared a popcorn, and you held on to me when you got scared. We do stuff--the stuff that we do all the time, like cooking together and marathoning TV reruns and going to the park after school--it’s things that couples do, and I really like you a lot, and then I was at Mike’s and I kind of realized--”

Bill’s flustered explanation stopped there because Stan had stepped close, reaching up with one hand to place it on Bill’s cheek, and drawing him in for a kiss. The kiss was sure and strong, Stan holding onto him tightly, the pencil in Stan’s other hand dropping with a small sound as Stan reached for one of Bill’s hands and held onto it. Stan kept a hold on Bill’s hand as he drew back.

“You finally realized it, huh? We can… We can be officially dating, if you want.”

Bill, unfortunately, was having a hard time finding words. Stan had stolen all the breath from his lungs.

“I…”

“Bill?” Stan tried, his eyebrows drawing together, the expression so concerned and so cute that it brought Bill back in the moment. He could feel his face heating up from his neck to his ears.

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, yeah. I… I mean, I do.”

Stan smiled, the smile growing into a laugh, the laugh relaxing as he put his hand back on Bill’s cheek, drawing him in for another kiss. And this time Bill was ready for it, kissing Stan back. Stan took a tiny step closer as the kiss broke, humming in contentment, pressing his forehead to Bill’s own.

“Boyfriend, then?” He asked, and Bill beamed. Boyfriend. It had a nice ring to it.

[pendragonfics]

The Secret

Paring: Tony Stark/Reader

Tags: female reader, married couple, secrets, worry, angst, fluff. 

Summary: You've got a secret, and it's practically eating you alive, and running into various Avengers isn't helping. Whatever will you do?

Word Count: 1,900

Current Date: 2018-04-12

The worst thing one person can do, is kill another person. You didn’t do that. No, you most certainly did not do that, but inside yourself, you feel like you did. Holding this terrible secret inside of you feels like you’ve gone to all to trouble of plotting a murder, pulling it off, and are living with the trauma and regret of it all. But, instead, you have this tiny little secret, sitting quietly inside your throat. Unable to come out. Waiting to clog up your airways and force itself to either kill you or reveal itself.

You shake your head, splashing water upon your face. The ________ staring back at you in the mirror mocks you, looking at you with your eyes as if she knows more than you about something. She knows your secret, but closing your eyes, and turning the faucet off, you ignore your reflection, and exit the bathroom.

“Get it together, ________,” you mutter to yourself, one fist closed, the other straightening your clothes. “It’s just a secret.”

But as soon as you walk out of the bedroom, you all but run into Happy Hogan. He doesn’t look very cheerful today; his sunglasses are extra-dark, and his frown seems to have immigrated upon his thin lips. Behind him is the protégé of Tony Stark and fellow hero, an un-suited Spider-Man whose hair is a mess. The kid looks up from his Science Weekly magazine to smile and wave at you.

“Hi, ________, how’s it going?” He asks, a smile taking over his face. “Happy’s taking me to the Smithsonian, there’s a collection of cool bugs there.”

“Sounds fun,” you smile, and say to Happy, “Have a great time out together.”

Peter notices something about you, and asking, he wonders, “Are you okay, ________?”

You pause, a shock of fear coursing your veins. How had this child, who had less experience in the vigilante scene and no S.H.I.E.L.D. training, picked up a hint of what you’re hiding? You want to say what’s on your mind, but that tiny little secret holds you back. If Tony got a whiff of what you’re hiding, then it was over.

“Yeah, sure am, Peter.” You beam, ruffling his hair. You pat Happy’s shoulder, and walking down the hall, you call out to them, “Enjoy the bugs!”

---

You make it by the training room, barely passing the open door without a scratch. Buried in the door frame is one of Hawkeye’s arrows, and, standing at the opposing end of the room, is the hero himself. Except, wearing sweatpants and a Lord of The Rings tee, he is not Hawkeye today, but Clint. Even though he isn’t in gear, and he probably didn’t see you coming (he was a little hard of hearing these days, after the fiasco in Sokovia), it doesn’t account for the fact that if you were a little to the left, you might have an arrow in your scapula.

You cross your arms, ready to tell him off in sign language, but there out of nowhere, Ant Man grows bigger before you. You’re not too close with Scott Lang, no, but you know well of his doings and heroics after you vetted him to join the Avengers officially. He was a little goofy for your tastes, and a little too shy in flair. But you weren’t looking for that right now; just a place to bury your head in the sand and wait out the burning secret in your chest to die off.

“Hey, ________,” Scott says, unlatching his mask. “Sorry, did we scare you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You roll your eyes, hands upon your hips in defiance. “Perhaps it’s because I was just shot at…?” you suggest.

“New trick shot,” Clint says and signs at the same time. “I shoot Ant Man at the enemy.”

You shake your head. “Back in my heyday, we did undercover and recovery missions, none of this fight-fights in Germain airports,” you tell them both, and taking a breath, you add, verbal and in sign language, “Might be good for a one-time exercise, it’ll lose the element of surprise if you keep doing it.”

Clint nods. “Good point.” He says, pressing a button on his bow. The arrow buried in the wood of the door beeped, and with a tug, flew backwards into his hand, and back to the quiver. “It’s electromagnetic, I’ll never lose an arrow again!”

Scott frowns, waving him off. “Yeah, yeah, dude.” He looks back to you, and asks, “Are you sure you’re okay, ________? I –,”

You nod feverishly, “Yeah, sure I am.” You grin. But inside, you’ve got a niggling sensation in your chest, fluttering around like a moth on the loose within your ribcage. “Um, I’ll let you get back to shooting Scott, Clint.”

---

It was really staring to bug you now, all the keeping inside. Bottling up your emotions was something you were never good at, even when you had Level 7 clearance in the old S.H.I.E.L.D. It was a good thing that you were in a mostly-empty building, too; with Dr Banner still MIA since Sokovia, Thor off-world, Steve Rogers in exile, and most of his ‘side’ for the past digression in the wind, you walked the mostly-empty halls of the facility of Upstate New York glad for the absence of people.

But that was until you ran into Vision. Well, it was more like you were minding your business, walking the hallways, but he had decided to phase through the floor, and you tripped over his head onto the concrete flooring.

“Ahh,” you winced, dusting your grazed knees with your equally-grazed palms, “That hurt…”

Vision turned to you, his lips pulled back to appear regretful. “I am very sorry, Miss ________,” he said, voice very much like the J.A.R.V.I.S. you remember Tony having back when you were just a field agent to him, a babysitter, not a wife. “Can I assist you with medicinal care? I have complete knowledge of first aid.”

You shake your head. “No thanks, Vision,” you give him a small thumbs-up, wincing. “I’m fine. I swear.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, tentative. “You appear distressed.”

You nod, feeling the pressure in your chest return. Despite this, you tell the android before you, “Oh, that’s nothing. Don’t you worry about a thing, Vis.”

He pauses, and, he hums. “If you say so, Miss ________.” He looks to the window, and, on another train of thought, goes to observe the view from that side of the room. You take this as a cue to leave and gathering your thoughts and self from your little trip, you try to find an unoccupied place in this facility.

---

You’ve made it all the room you share with your husband, and instead of trying to bottle in and try to forget about it now, you’ve made up your mind on doing the opposite. Every time you encountered someone, you were sent into an echoing spin of worry, and it wasn’t worth it. So, you’ve made up your mind.

You will find Anthony Edward Stark.

He may be a genius and Iron Man himself, but he’s not immune to the app on your phone that tracks his, and within minutes, you’re entering the workshop he’s taken on to be his own. When you fell for him all those years ago, he was exactly this: a man covered in sweat and grease and jamming to rock and roll songs of the past. Sure, he was rich, and he was powerful, and he was super-smart, but they were all side-benefits to the man himself.

He spots you over a project he’s working on and turns down his playlist over the speakers. “Hey, wifey,” he grins, wiping his hands on a rag. “What brings you to my lair?”

You blink, feet stuck where they are to the floor. All the bravery it took to muster to get here dies right then and there, and you’re stunned into silence like a fish mounted upon the wall. But, clearing your throat, you manage to get a handful of words to spill fourth, “I have to tell you something.”

Tony’s grin is usually infectious, but right now, it’s killing you softly. He’s too good for you. He is. Truly. “What is it, babe?” He asks, snapping the rag he’s holding to his side, approaching you. His eyes graze over you and drawing you in for a hug. But when he withdraws he frowns. “Holy hell, ________, you’re shaking. What is it?”

You swallow. “I –,” you sniffle, feeling terrible. “I –,” But the words just won’t come from your lips. Tony’s eyes soften, his hands cradling your shoulders, his eyes roaming your eyes deep as you struggle to find a way to get the secret you’ve been harbouring out aloud. “I’m so afraid of what you’ll say. What everyone will say,” you whisper.

“Did someone hurt you?” His face is dark with an anger you’re unfamiliar with.

You shake your head, “No,” you breathe. You wait a second, and muster the courage, the words slip fourth, “Tony, I’m pregnant.”

---

There’s a laughter in the room, and it takes you a moment to realise that it’s your husband who is making the noise. His face is contorted into such happiness you haven’t seen him in for years – his face is care-free, eyes surrounded by wrinkles, mouth wide in a wide smile.

“You –,” he says, slowly. “You’re pregnant?” He repeats your words. But he doesn’t wait for an answer, and whooping, he gathers you within his arms for a hug. “We’re going to be parents, ________!” When Tony releases you from his embrace, he stares at your midsection, and asks, “How long have you known?”

You let out a breathy sigh. “Yesterday, when I got back from the city.” You take your husband’s hands in yours, tracing your fingers over his calloused digits. “It’s been hell to keep it in, because, you know, what you said on the honeymoon.”

Four years ago, you two were married in Central Park, beside the park bench where you had met one another three years previous. Your honeymoon had been to the warm beaches of the always summery Great Barrier Reef in Australia, where you spent almost a month exploring the ocean and walking the beaches together. But it was on this glorious, most perfect honeymoon where you remember talking one night to your freshly-made husband about the one topic you had not previously discussed. Children. He hadn’t been Iron Man for long at this point, and yet, when you heard that he had no wish to make a family, that night was etched in your memory for years to come.

“Rule number twelve,” he says, cradling your face to pepper every surface of it except your lips with kisses, “I say dumb shit sometimes, and I love you. And a baby is an extension of you, and I could never hate you for creating a Jnr.”

You shake your head, “No way are we calling our baby after you.”

Tony finally kisses your lips, and resting his forehead against yours, gazes into your eyes. “Whoever said the baby would be named after me?” He grins. “I love you, ________.”

“Love you too,” You whisper, and go in for another kiss.

[redtomatofan]

I'll Keep You Safe

(( Okay I wrote this up and IT GOT A LIL LONGER THAN I MEANT FOR IT TO, about 2917 words long :,D So uh… I don’t know if this will even be your cup of tea so… Feel free to post it or keep it to yourself, I’m very sorry;; ))

In the latest hour of night, and the earliest hour of the morning, Papyrus found himself being roused out of sleep from a panicked knock on his door, though without even Papyrus being able to raise his head and welcome them in, the door flew open, slamming against the wall. That surely jolted the skeleton upright in bed.

“Sans??” Papyrus was awake and alert when he saw his brother at the foot of his bed, catching a mere glimpse of his one eye blaring colors of cyan and yellow. Though his brother seemed to quickly loosen the tension he held, closing both his eyes so when they opened back up, they were the same old white pinpoints of light.

“Oh, good, you’re… Here.” Sans said, his voice sounded to be winding down from the sudden panicked state he was just in.

Papyrus gave a slight head tilt at that remark, “As opposed to where else in the middle of the night, brother?”

Sans waved it off, “Ahh… Nothing.”

The two merely stood there for a few moments, it was… Growing awkward.

“Okay, then may I continue wit–”

“Can I join y–”

The two interrupted one another, quickly puzzling Papyrus, “Wait, what was that?”

“Uhh, oh geez,” Sans immediately had a foot-in-mouth moment and looked a little bashful, “Look I… Alright, so I had a bad dream, yanno? And… It’s just got me worried about you. I was wondering if… It would be alright if I…”

No more explanation was needed other than that, as Papyrus scooted over, pulled the blanket back, and patted the empty sheets beside him. Giving his brother a chance to sigh relief as he wandered over and sat snuggly in the spot by him. Papyrus brought the covers up over the two of them and shuffled back down, keeping a good few inches between the two of them. Though a couple minutes later, that gap got closed by Sans reaching over and hugging at Papyrus’s waist.

While the taller skeleton was not one for cuddling in bed like this, he did give Sans a free pass tonight. Whatever dream his brother had to make him so scared and panicked over where his younger brother was, had to be pretty bad. Any comfort he could help give back to the shorter skeleton was perfectly acceptable by Papyrus.

Though that would not be enough….

————————–

Whatever had happened in that dream seemed to really make a change in his brother. As the days to follow, Sans was constantly asking about Papyrus’s well being.

“I feel fantastic today! Thank you for asking, brother!” which there was really nothing wrong in that, it was a kind gesture to know his brother cared about his health.

And at home, Papyrus could not be in a room alone without Sans somewhere in it, like a cat minding its own business, but constantly stalking its owner. Sans would even hang out with Papyrus in his bedroom.

“Brother, you have your own room you could be in.”

“Yeah, but your’s is better than mine.”

“Mine’s cleaner, if you cleaned up your room a little, maybe you’d like to be in it more!”

“True, buuuut your’s is cooler.”

No amount of nudging and hinting would seem to get the point across to him. Ultimately it would culminate to:

“… Then… Could you please leave my room? I do enjoy you wanting to hang out, brother! I just would prefer some… Personal space and… Privacy.”

“I don’t mind.”

“What–”

“Actually, you know what, I gotta go do something. Catch you later.”

And with that, his brother left.

Strange, deadpan responses… A sudden clinginess that went from acceptable to uncomfortable… Even during their sentry shifts, Papyrus felt a strange uneasiness of being watched and followed, never catching who it could be, but he had an odd feeling that he knew. Even one evening when he couldn’t find Sans, he went to his bedroom to spot Sans at his computer.

“Sans! What are you doing?” Papyrus took his usual annoyed tone and marched over, spotting that the computer was opened up to the Undernet, showing his inbox with all his very few messages on there, “HEY! Those are PRIVATE, Sans! I don’t snoop around YOUR things, do I?”

Sans had been pretty stoic the moment Papyrus entered the room, not even flinching nor caring to try and hide what he was doing. He simply tabbed away on the computer.

“Oh, was that what I was looking at? Whoops, I meant to login to my own account.” Sans shrugged.

Papyrus now went from his usual hysterical reaction to his brother, to a much more somber and serious tone, “Sans. Get out of my room, and stop poking around my things.”

That usual grin faltered ever slightly, “Wha… Papyru–”

“Sans, enough! I know you’re worried about me, but… You’re starting to… To…”

He then frowned, “To what?”

“… You’ve been REALLY clingy, Sans, and you constantly ask me where I’ve been or what I’m doing, you’re even in my room while I’m not here-which by the way, those signs on the door are not just for decoration-they’re seriously signs to keep out of my stuff! Sans… You’ve gotten… Kinda creepy.”

“Creepy?”

“Yes, Sans. Creepy. I already said it, but…” Papyrus quickly had to reassess himself, surely his brother was not meaning to be this way, and he was only getting carried away now in the heat of the moment, taking a deep inhale through his nose, he exhaled loudly through his mouth accompanying it with a groan, “Sans, I know you’re worried about me, but you don’t need to be! Everything’s perfectly fine, and I promise-I promise you… I’m going to be alright.” placing his hands on each of Sans’s shoulders, he smiled at him, “Look, we can spend time together and have plenty a good time. I’d just also like it if we had time to ourselves as well, like when you would go to Grillby’s and hang out with your friends there! I like just having time to myself here in my room, or hang out with Undyne when I can!”

Giving his brother a second chance now, Papyrus huffed happily, “Okay?”

Sans seemed to consider the thought, and his eyes were locked on Papyrus’s arms, he was in some deep thought, before his hands slowly raised up and held onto his forearms.

“Great, Sans! So, how about we… Forget these passed few days even happened and move on to–Sans? Uh… Sans… Your… Holding on pretty tightly there… Sans…”

The hold turned to a clench, and that clench slowly became a vice grip, Papyrus was surprised by the sudden strength his brother possessed and how quickly the tightness began to actually hurt. When Papyrus tried to jerk back his arms, Sans only yanked roughly.

“S-sans! L-let go! This isn’t funny!” Papyrus desperately squawked, he didn’t want to hurt Sans back by kicking him, he simply continued to pull against the restraints of his brother.

Sans then spun Papyrus around, throwing him against the wall with a loud BANG.

Papyrus had hit the wall so hard to leave a dent to it, and knocking his head against it had him blackout.

————————–

“Oh dear, Papyrus is sick?” Asked the concerned bunny from behind the counter as she wrung up Sans’s groceries, consisting of cans of soup.

“Yeah, poor guy, real torn up about it.” Sans said, handing over the equivalent gold payment.

“I hope he feels better soon then, tell him that the kids from the Inn said “hello”! They miss seeing him around town!”

“Can do,” Sans smirked as he held up one of the soup cans before placing it in a bag, “Thanks.”

“Stay warm!”

Sure this was a good excuse for now, claiming Papyrus had come down with a terrible illness to make the skeleton bedridden, but it was not the most clever lie. Sans had been acting on his feet, but when he told that to Undyne so to excuse Papyrus’s absence from royal guard training and cooking lessons, it was so close to backfiring on him.

She wanted to help assist in making Papyrus feel better, but Sans had to keep his cool and assure her that he would be more readily available to him around the clock and needed no other assistance, plus no outside visitors should see him at this state given they could catch it too or make it worse on the feebly sick skeleton.

Sans couldn’t tell if she was suspicious or not, but he knew that the next order of business on his agenda would have to be getting rid of her… Perhaps not dusting, considering she’s way too prominent a figure that if she went missing, people would know.

Perhaps he could stage something between her and Papyrus, make her want nothing more to do with him, and solidifying that she no longer would bother or come looking for Papyrus.

Or… He could erase Papyrus’s “existence” from the Underground’s knowledge, so as to keep Papyrus safe from ever being questioned about.

Hm, he would have to think more about that last idea. That would certainly solve a lot of problems.

Arriving home, Sans stopped by the kitchen first, starting the stove and cooking up some soup. He left the pot to simmer while he went back upstairs to Papyrus’s bedroom.

“Papyrus, I’m back,” Sans spoke in a rather sing songy tone, poking his head in and looking over to the bed, “How’re we doing?”

Papyrus had been restrained to the mattress by ropes Sans had prepared for long in advance, his cracked skull had a hastily dressed gauze taped against it, which it was a far smaller crack than necessary for that big gauze, a band aid would have fit better. Though no matter, Sans improvised when he did since Papyrus was unconscious.

Now that his brother had returned, Papyrus was awake and quickly began squirming and pulling against the ropes, his wrists and ankles being left with very little slack to move around. He had been stuck like this since he was conscious once again.

He gave a whine, desperate to escape now that his brother was here and his head throbbing from pain.

“Papyrus, shh shh–”

“HELP! HELP PLEASE HELP SOMEONE!”

Sans grabbed the scarf at the end of the bed, “Should’ve done this earlier.” and hurried over to gag Papyrus’s mouth, tying the scarf even around the back of his neck, “Sorry, can’t have you getting the neighbor’s attention, lil brother.”

Papyrus’s cheeks were stained with old tear tracks, but his eyes well back up with fresh beads as he could not get his hands nor feet free.

“Shh shh, Papyrus…” Sans reached up to thumb away those tears, “You’re safe, okay? Everything’s going to be okay.”

No. None of this was okay.

“Trust me, Papyrus… This is for your own good… I’m making you some soup, you’re hungry, right?”

Papyrus gave out a muffled cry, wailing in despair.

Sans continued to be patient, but it was wearing thin. He got up and marched out of the room. With what little time Papyrus had now, he tried to open and close his mouth, loosening the scarf so he could get his mouth free and start crying out again, why he didn’t sooner was beyond him, perhaps thinking he had more time to break out of this bind he was in and sneak out of the house. Though it had been no use.

It took maybe a minute for Sans to return, during that time, Papyrus had made no progress to his restraints or his gag.

“Papyrus.”

The dark tone accompanied by seeing his brother holding up a collar..?

“Look, if you are going to be this way, then it’s going to come down to this.”

Marching over, Sans then put the collar around Papyrus’s neck, Papyrus did swing his head around to try and keep him from doing so, but Sans’s hand forcefully pushed his head down against the pillow to keep it in place, and then there was a CLICK.

“There.” Sans backed off, “That’s a shock collar, Papyrus. You can probably guess what it does.” Sans reached over again to make sure the collar was on properly and tight, “I didn’t want to have to do this, bro, but if you’re gonna be making things hard on me, then this is how you gotta be disciplined.”

Disciplined?? For what?! Trying to get away from his sudden lunatic brother??

“Papyrus, I’m doing what’s best for you, don’t you understand that? I care about you, I always have… I’ve been the one to take care of the house-the house payments, I’ve been the one to make sure you had a costume ready for that costume party, I’ve always been there to ensure you had clothes on your back, a roof over your head, and food to prepare and eat… Now.” he let go of the collar and began untying that near impossible knot of the scarf around his mouth, “Things are going to change, Papyrus… But it’s okay, they’re going to be for the better. You just need to follow the rules, and you won’t get penalized. Got it?”

The scarf was removed, Papyrus was uncharacteristically quiet.

“… Papyrus, give me an answer: do you understand?”

“…. SOMEONE HELP M–” the shock to interrupt Papyrus’s outcry was a strong pulse, this shock collar had not be set to its highest setting, it had been customized to administer an electric shock far beyond that capable of the collar before, Papyrus had gone silent until the pulse of electricity stopped.

“Okay, first new rule: no raising your voice.” Sans said, “And second: no going near any of the windows or the front door.”

Papyrus was dazed, his body was still buzzing from the shock, but there was no pain to follow just yet, it was as if he had been struck by lightning.

“And should you do talk to anyone else… Well… Look, Papyrus, I don’t wanna be the bad guy here, but… I might have to do a little more than that what that shock collar can do.”

There was something WORSE than the collar??

“So, again… Do you understand?”

Papyrus remained silent.

“… You can talk, Papyrus, just use your indoor voice.”

His jaw moved, but he barely could get out a wince.

“You can nod.”

Papyrus’s head gently nodded forward and then rested back against the pillow.

“Okay, good… Soup’s about ready. Want to come down and eat? Or should I bring it to you?”

“I-I…I’ll…. C-co..me… d-down-n…”

“You sure?” Sans asked as he played with the rope at his ankle, “Cause you look comfortable here.”

“I… c-can..mm…make it….”

Sans sighed, “Don’t even bother trying to get the collar off either, first: you won’t be able to take it off. Second: it’ll shock ya.” he then loosened the knot on Papyrus’s ankle, slipping his foot loose, “Got that?”

“Mm..mmh…mhm…” Papyrus wanted to kick Sans’s face, but by this point his head was spinning and he didn’t have the energy.

“Good.”

The rest of the ropes were loosened and Papyrus was freed, though he was certainly hesitant about making any quick breaks for it, too fearful what another shock to his system would do to him. With Sans’s generous help, he managed to get down to the kitchen and sat at the table to have a cup of soup with his brother.

————————–

Months came to pass, and things seemed to be much more smoothly. Rumors and voices of concern had gone out for Papyrus as he was strangely not out and walking around much these days. Sans carried on his work, not a bit had changed at all for him.

It took awhile, but finally it came to a point where when Sans returned home for the day, he would find Papyrus either sat on the couch watching old re-runs on TV, or in the kitchen cooking up something delicious.

“Hey, how’s my Happy Papy doing?” Sans smiled, walking up to Papyrus in the kitchen and putting an arm around him.

“Ah, b-brother!” Papyrus had a rather raspy and subdued voice these days, “You’re home! I missed you!”

“You did?” Sans chuckled, “Heh, well… What about the fact that your collar went off earlier this morning?”

Papyrus’s happy demeanor changed quickly as he dropped down, hugging onto Sans, going right into his usual fit of begging and pleading for what little mercy he could ask for.

“S-s-sans, p-please! I-I was-I didn’t-I w-wanted only t-to clean the wi-windows, b-but I-I-I got too c-close I f-forgot-I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!”

“Shh shh, hey…” Sans knelt down to Papyrus’s level, quick to give comfort and support by stroking his cheek with a feathery touch, “I believe you, but just be more careful next time… Let me take care of window washing duty if you take over dishes, how’s that sound?”

Papyrus was already beginning to sob and sniffling, “I-it hurt a l-lot…”

“I know, Papy… Heck, why don’t I also take care of dishes? That way you can rest and take a load off after we eat, hm?”

Papyrus swallowed thickly as he tried to get his crying under control. Sans continued to soothe him by then bringing his skull forward and gently kissing at the old seam of a crack on the side of his head.

“T-thank… Thank you, brother.” Papyrus began to even out his breathing and hugged Sans tight.

“Anything for you, Papy.”

Oh it’s my cup of tea alright Anon <3 No need to apologise for this amazing fic at all~