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montrealmadison · 3 years ago

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drink deeply

or, as they say at samwell, “penitus potes.” shitty gives the toast at jack and bitty’s wedding. for @zimbitsweddingofficial and day two of zimbits wedding week: the wedding itself!

just for fun, a draft version of the beginning of this fic with lardo, ransom, and holster’s “helpful” edits can be found via google doc here. hope y’all enjoy! <3

Good evening, everyone! On behalf of Jack and Eric, thank you all so much for being here tonight, and welcome to what could very well be the most highly anticipated wedding reception of 2019. I mean, this party was planned by the likes of Suzanne Bittle and Alicia Zimmermann. We are in for a treat, folks.

Before we get to all that, I’d also like to extend a particular welcome to those in attendance who are part of the playing, coaching, and/or office staff of the Providence Falconers. Glad you could all make it this evening; I know this past week was a little bit busy for you guys.

[Insert appropriate pause and gesture to the punch bowl, which on closer inspection is actually—oh yeah—the Stanley Cup the Falcs won three days ago. Hold for inevitable applause, general hysteria, and/or hooting/hollering from Tater.]

For those of you who don’t know me, I’ve been trying to decide whether I should introduce myself by my first name, which will inevitably get me mocked by my friends until the end of time, or by my nickname, which will definitely scandalize anyone who has not spent a significant amount of time around twenty-year-old guys who play hockey. However, as I look around the room, I’m realizing that most of you probably either raised, spent significant time around, or were once a twenty-year-old guy who played hockey. To the rest of you, I am profoundly sorry.

So, hi! I’m Shitty, and I’m Jack’s best man.

read more below or on ao3

Being someone’s best man, as I’ve realized over the last few months, should really come with a playbook or an instruction manual or something, because it’s a task unlike any other you’ll ever take on. In addition to being a friend, you have to be a confidant, an expert at bachelor-party debauchery (I think my college resume definitely prepared me for this part) and someone who’s not afraid to step in to make last-minute decisions so the grooms don’t have to. You also have to do all of these things without getting fired from your job or stepping on anyone’s toes, up to and including: the couple getting married, the other people in the wedding party, the grooms’ parents, the wedding planner, and most importantly, Moomaw, whose word is law around here.

(Seriously. She made the pie tonight, people. Bow down to her.)

But as much as the role can feel a little bit like you’re being thrown in at the deep end, it also definitely comes with its perks. Tonight, I have both the honor and the challenge of somehow summarizing how much I love Jack and Eric in a speech that is heartfelt and witty yet also brief so that we can get to the aforementioned pie as quickly as possible. If you’re still following me here, that is a tall order—but here goes nothing!

I met Jack Zimmermann on our first day of freshman year at Samwell, during the bright, hot summer of 2011. I was participating in the time-honored tradition of moving into a dorm on the third floor of a building with no elevator and no air conditioning in the middle of August. It builds character, or so the good folks in Samwell administration probably tell themselves. Anyway, athletes got to move in early for preseason, so I was expecting to be one of the only guys on the floor for at least a couple days. I was just carrying the last box into my room when the door next to mine opened and—well, you can probably guess who walked out.

Now, I grew up in Boston, which means I also grew up around hockey culture. I’d heard the news that Jack was coming to Samwell, so I knew who he was when he stepped into the hall in that same vague way that you kind of-sort of recognize celebrities hustling down the street or through the airport with their sunglasses on. And he gave me that same vibe—“I know you know who I am, and I’d very much like not to be bothered about it.”

Here is something that will not shock you if you know us: Jack was the first friend I made in college. Here is something that might shock you if you know us: That definitely doesn’t mean we were friends at first. By his own admission, Jack wasn’t at Samwell to make friends at all. He told me, much later, that he was only planning to go to play hockey, get his life back on track, and keep his head down as much as possible.

So in retrospect, maybe it was an unlucky thing for Jack that he ran into the one person who wasn’t going to let him do that.

Because no matter who you are or where you’re from, freshman year of college breeds a unique kind of terror I’ve never felt anywhere else. There’s a lot of pressure to completely remake yourself, to become the person you maybe never could have been in your hometown. By coming to Samwell, I wanted to be a different kind of kid than the one that Andover had raised. Jack wanted to be a different kind of kid than the one he’d spent twenty years telling himself he had to be. As much as neither of us wanted to admit it, we both wanted similar things out of our college experience, and we needed a support system to do that. And so, however begrudging the two of us were about it at first, we started to bond more and more.

It wasn’t always easy. For one thing, my idea of a good time was a lot louder than Jack’s—who enjoyed such scintillating pursuits as “watching golf” and “going to bed at a reasonable hour”, neither of which were quite in my vocabulary at the ripe old age of eighteen. Also, if it’s before six in the morning, he has a hard time remembering to speak English, which used to make for a lot of stilted conversations between the two of us as we walked to early morning practice. (On a completely unrelated note, the first and probably only thing I ever learned in Québécois is how to swear.)

I don’t remember the exact tipping point at which Jack and I really became friends; I think it was more of a quiet acknowledgment that we liked having each other around, that we balanced each other out in ways that neither of us initially knew we needed. What I do know is that, slowly but surely, I started to get glimpses of the Jack that exists off the ice. And so began one of the most extraordinary journeys of my life, because the only thing crazier than knowing Jack Zimmermann is actually knowing Jack.

Here are some things that I’ve learned in the process: He’s on his third pair of neon yellow running shoes, which he buys specifically because the color makes him happy. Before either of us tried Eric’s pies, the only thing that could make him cheat on a meal plan was a sleeve of Double Stuf Oreos. (Don’t ask him how to eat them correctly unless you’re interested in a twenty-minute speech on exactly how they have to be pulled apart.) And he loves Captain America, although it is the opinion of this best man that America’s ass has nothing on his hockey butt. Have you seen that thing? It has Internet fans in at least two different countries.

But I digress.

In our sophomore year we lived next to each other again, by choice instead of by chance, in what I can only describe as the pinnacle of American college living: the Samwell Men’s Hockey Haus. We used to pull the comforter off of one of our beds and climb out onto the roof and clear off the snow so we could share the blanket, look up at the stars, and listen to the bass thumping through the wall of the house next door. On nights when other things felt confusing, this one part of my life was clear. There’s something about sitting out under the open sky that just makes it easier to talk to a guy, you know?

Some nights the conversations we had were funny. Some nights they were serious. Some nights we said nothing at all, just sat secure in the knowledge that someone cared enough to exist alongside us for a little while. There was always an unspoken agreement between us on nights like these: I got your back. For me, Jack’s friendship became a rock, a refuge. It’s something that I came to depend on that year and still do to this day.

As for the content of those late-night conversations—well, some things do have to stay between friends. I’m sure Jack will agree, especially because he has so graciously allowed me to get up here and lovingly roast him just a little bit.

So let’s skip ahead again, to yet another August, the start of our junior year, and the arrival on the scene of one Eric Bittle. This kid burst into our ranks like a ray of Southern sunshine and turned pretty much everything upside down in the process. In the first five minutes of being in the Haus, he somehow made us a pie? Folks, I'm not kidding, it was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. We were a bunch of guys who didn’t know what we were missing until we had it, and let me tell you, it was one hell of a semester after that. In pretty short order we had curtains on the windows and baked goods on the counters, and Samwell Men’s Hockey started to become not only a team but a family.

That was off the ice, at least. On it, things were a little more complicated. As our dear friend and former goalie John Johnson said to me, Jack and Eric hadn’t gone through their character development yet—whatever that means.

Take our third or fourth practice with the full team that year, for example. It had gone… uh. Poorly, would be a word. Later that night I heard some rustling on the roof outside, and God knows I was willing to do just about anything but my homework—so I stuck my head out the window and there was Jack, watching the stars. I asked him if he wanted a buddy, and he said alright, so I slid out and sat down next to him.

That was pretty usual for us at this point. What wasn’t usual was the topic of conversation. The first thing Jack said to me was, “Bittle’s gonna get eaten alive when our schedule starts.” (Remember, people, they’re married now!) The second was, “I want to help.”

Here’s another thing about Jack: Underneath the veneer is a guy who just cares so intensely it’d shock you if you knew nothing else about him. It shocked me a little that day. I think it even shocked him to admit it, to the point where I had to say, “Jack, it’s not a criminal offense to care about other people. Even if it feels like you’re doing it for yourself.”

So he helped. He offered an olive branch, and Bits took him up on it. I’d hear the two of them get up in the morning, hours before the rest of us had to be at Faber, for checking practice. None of the rest of us ever knew exactly what went down, but one thing was for sure—Eric put in a ton of work to overcome some of the fears that had followed him to college. He got better, and Jack relaxed. The two of them really started working as a team, and things started looking up from there.

The day that they told us they were dating was pretty amazing. Eric is so full of light no matter how bleak a situation may look, but that day he was literally almost glowing. And I’ve seen Jack in moments after victory and loss, at his best and at his worst. But I’ve never seen a Jack who was so happy, possessed of such confidence in a decision he’d made, as I saw him that day at brunch. And that’s when I knew this relationship was really special.

From there, many of you know the story. You watched it play out on ESPN and social media and the front pages of every single gossip magazine on the supermarket shelves. But if you’re sitting here with us tonight, you also watched it play out between Jack and Eric themselves. You’ve watched them handle expectations as a united front. You’ve watched their unfailing dedication to each other while they navigate the pressure of being some pretty big firsts. You know that, behind the scenes, these are two incredibly genuine people who bring out the best in each other and are dedicated to doing that every single day.

In the last four years, I’ve watched Eric become self-possessed and confident because he was given the space to do so. In the last six years, I’ve watched Jack grow from a kid with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove to a guy who finally believes that he deserves all the good things the world has given him and then some. If you take nothing else away from this speech, I want you to know this: I’m incredibly proud to call myself a friend to both of them.

Jack, Bits, you’re always gonna be my brothers, my best friends, and two of the finest damn men I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. I wish you both a long and happy marriage. Take care of each other, be good to each other, and never forget where you started—as a team.

So please join me in raising your glasses, everyone, and as they say at Samwell—penitus potes to Jack and Eric!

#shitty knight #jack zimmermann #eric bittle #zimbitswedding #omgcp #check please #this idea jumped into my head and refused to leave #shitty & jack & bitty friendship my beloved #my writing

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houseofdabs · 3 years ago

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Pourin' Down

another rainy day fic because why the hell not

i kinda rushed this one

warnings: none

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Lester liked the rain a lot, it nourished the plants that hid Ambrose and he loved the way it covered the loud silence of the house. But there were things about it he didn't like; the way it washed away some of the carcasses and made it harder to collect them, and he didn't like the way the looming rainclouds contributed to the off feeling of the building. The house was gloomier and hidden in the darkness were the ghosts of his childhood, the shadows threatened to swallow him and encumber him with the same fear and uneasiness he lived with as a child. He hated the dark but he also didn't want to bother his siblings by turning on all the lights in the house, so he'd manage in the kitchen to try and busy himself from the thoughts.

Lester wasn't the best cook by far but everyone has that one dish they can make, and Lester could make a damn good stew, which he deemed perfect for the weather. He set a pot of coffee on before going to the fridge to retrieve the cut of deer he had prepared after his most recent pick up along with some vegetables. Before he started cooking, Lester popped a tape into the old portable stereo that sat on the counter across the kitchen, it would help make the process faster (Lester believed) and would also provide good background noise so his mind wouldn't wander. Soon the room was filled with the twangy sound of Hank Williams accompanied by the meat sizzling on the stove and Lester chopping vegetables. He was so focused on not cutting himself he didn't register Jonesy and Vincent entering, not that it was easy to notice Vincent, the man was so damn quiet. Lester nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized his older brother was watching him cook.

"Jesus, Vinny! Y'bout gave me a heart 'tack." He placed a hand to his chest to calm his racing heart and laughed softly at how how he reacted.

'Sorry' Vincent signed before making his way to watch Lester closely, 'What are you making?'

"Jus'sum stew, fig'ered it would go well'n all." Lester gestured towards the window at the weather and Vincent nodded, 'Need any help?'

"Yeah'd 'preciate if you'd chop these taters, ain't gotta be big, bite size y'know?" He handed the knife to his brother before taking out the meat from the pan and replacing them with the onions and garlic he just cut. The two worked in silence beside each other, Lester snuck some pieces to Jonesy while Vincent wasn't looking and Vincent did the same when Lester's back was turned. Lester finished the roux for the stew before he threw everything together and left it to cook down. He grinned when he remembered the pot of coffee he had made prior and went to the cupboard to retrieve three cups, two to fix for him and Vincent and Bo's 'special' cup to leave out for him.

"He *still* out there?" Lester asked as he peered out the window, "Told'em s'gunna rain, didn' listen." He shrugged as he handed the other mug to Vincent before sitting down and petting Jonesy. The two sat in comfortable silence, Lester stirring the stew occasionally and changing the tape after it played through all the way.

"What'cha feelin' for, Vinny?" Lester asked as he waved the tape in his hand. Vincent shrugged and the younger sibling let out a huff. "C'mon," he whined slightly, "jus' pick sumn, s'your turn t'pick." Vincent slouched before he got up to go to the living room to pick a tape from the rack. A few moments later he returned to the kitchen with an old Ink Spots cassette and handed it to his brother.

Lester placed the tape into the player before he made his way back to the stove to taste the stew. "Hey, c'mere, think this needs anythin'?" He spooned some of the broth before handing it to his brother. Vincent tasted it and gave him a small thumbs up before taking his seat back at the table and Lester grinned. "Think this might be th'best one I made yet."

It didn't take long for the stew to finish and Lester was thankful for it, he knew his brother probably hadn't ate in a while. He fixed their plates and sat them down on the table. "Dang, this could use some cornbread, knew I shoulda made some." He grumbled as he lifted a bite to his mouth.

'Still good.' Vincent signed, the compliment made Lester light up and he couldn't fight the smile that came, not that he'd want to. "Thanks, Vinny, s'awful nice, thanks." The two ate quietly, the old static sound from the music made Lester think back to his parents. Usually thinking of his parents made him upset but he found it hard to feel anything but content when he was sitting with his brother and enjoying a good meal. Times like these reminded him of how they didn't need their parents and how they managed much better without them, he couldn't help but feel proud of his brothers, even a little proud of himself too.

The ambience of the house was flipped when the front door slammed, followed by angry curses and the stomping of boots. Lester hid his smile behind his spoon as Bo made his way to the room, his clothes and hair soaked, he looked mad. "S'fuckin' rainin' outside." He huffed and took in everything, the smell now registering as he calmed down. "Y'cook?" He asked and Lester nodded.

"Good, better not taste like shit either."

#bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #house of wax #bo sinclair fluff #vincent sinclair fluff #lester sinclair fluff #house of wax 2005 #sinclair brothers #sinclair siblings #sinclair twins #houseofdabs writing

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hepaidattention · 3 years ago

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denial

part 5

where Allison never died in s3 and Lydia and Stiles are going strong in the flirting game but still stubborn, so Allison decides to set them up (with Scott’s help of course).

read part one, two, three and four here

Scott was shaking his head, his arms propped up on the lunch table with hands intertwined and placed in front of his chin. “I don’t know...” he looked deeply concerned, like he didn’t trust any plan that didn’t come from the mouth of Stiles. “Are you sure, Allison? ‘Cause it seems...”

“Genius? Brilliant?” she smirked, plopping a tater tot in her mouth with sass.

“I was going to say messy.”

“Scott, relax. It’s going to work.” Allison was sure it would. Lydia was the most jealous person she knew - there’s no way this wouldn’t.

Before Scott could voice more of his doubts, Lydia dropped into her chair with a huff. “God, I despise this school’s feeble attempt of a sustainable meal. I knew I should have packed my own.” Lydia grumbled. Neither Scott nor Allison answered though. They were just looking at her. Lydia felt uncomfortable under their insinuating stares so she looked over her shoulder, then over Scott’s head for a distraction. “Where’s Stiles?”

Allison was eating tater tots with a face that was purely devious. “Don’t know, haven’t seen him since class. Got any plans?”

Lydia’s head dragged back to meet Allison’s treacherous gaze. “No, I was just going to ask him how his test went.”

“Right, right,” Allison spun her fork between her fingers, the tot sitting on the ends of the four prongs. “What was his test on again?”

Lydia’s cheek smashed into her fist as her other hand used her fork to pick at the questionable food on her plate. “Uh, I think it was A&P,”

“Oh, well that’s great, Lydia - you know plenty about that subject, right?” Allison had a teasing tone, but even Scott found it slightly cruel. They could both tell where she was going with it. Lydia kicked her from under the table in, but Allison continued with, “Maybe you could help him study next time, you know, give him a few anatomy lessons of your own.”

Lydia threw a tater at her head. Allison dodged it. Lydia looked at Scott and he was avoiding all eye contact, so she knew that meant he knew now. If he didn’t, he’d just be looking at them like a deer in the headlights. “You told him?” Lydia hissed across the table.

Allison shook her head, trying everything not to laugh. “No, I promise I didn’t.”

“I- I sorta already knew,” Scott awkwardly scratched his chin, his voice timid and sweet. “Stiles told me, you know, when it happened.”

Lydia was trying not to shrink into her seat and cower. “You’re evil.” Lydia told the grinning Allison.

She shrugged, her eyebrows dancing as she ate the tater tot from her fork. “You know, you’re right, Lyds. I am being unfair. Obviously you’re just friends with Stiles, and I realized - I just want to see Stiles happy. I mean, don’t we all? He’s had a such rough year, and I think he deserves some happiness - so me and Scott think we should try to set him up with someone.”

Lydia’s face fell, her eyes unblinking. “You... want to set up Stiles...Stilinski?”

“Yup, kind of the only Stiles we know,” she nodded enthusiastically. “At first I clearly had you in mind, but once you said how you’d be happy to see him with someone else I realized you really were just friends and I’m not going to push something that’s not meant to be. Now, now I’m thinking about Ginny Green. She looked really into him, and I mean she’s super sweet.”

“And hot,” Scott meekly added, still feeling morally wrong in this plan. Also morally wrong in subjecting people, so he added, “But more importantly, she’s sweet.”

“Yes, so true,” Allison gestured towards Scott and dramatically dropped her arms to the table. “So hot. What do you think, Lydia? I mean, obviously you know Stiles way better than I do, so we really need your help in this whole thing.”

Lydia pursed her lips, her cheek still resting on her fist like she was bored with this conversation. “I think you’re full of bullshit.”

Allison scrunched up her nose, her eyes squinting with it. “Tell that to Ginny Green.” She pointed behind her.

Lydia whipped around, seeing Ginny making her way to the table with a tray of food. Lydia looked back at Allison in horror. “You didn’t.”

Allison was waving at her, her face appearing innocent and friendly. However, the look Allison gave Lydia was nothing but conniving and wicked. “Why? Do you think someone else would be a better fit?”

Lydia gave up on Allison. She looked at Scott for help, but he just ducked his head and pretended he had been eating this whole time. Ginny sat down beside Allison, and Lydia wanted to punch her right of her seat. God, Lydia hated Ginny Green. No, it wasn’t because she liked Stiles either. Ginny Green had been more of a bitch than Lydia herself since 2nd grade. Everyone knew her as sweet Ginny but Lydia could smell a bitch a mile away. It was always the bitches who pretended to be nice that made her skin crawl. At least own up to it, god.

“Hey everyone,” Ginny gave a sickly sweet smile that made Lydia was to puke.

“Hey Ginny,” Scott was genuine, it hurt Lydia’s heart just how genuine and nice that boy was.

Ginny grinned and looked at Lydia. “Hey Lydia,” The stink eye she gave her, with the pursed lips and carping glare she bestowed, it was enough for Lydia to just leave the table. However, Stiles just then flopped in his chair beside her before she could make a move to leave. Now she couldn’t leave, then Allison would be proving her point, as well as trying to set up loyal, unwavering-love Stiles with the Wicked Witch of the East. Stiles was not about to become one of her flying monkeys - not if she had anything to do with it.

“Hey,” he said just to her. It was quiet and warm, and he meant it for Lydia and Lydia alone as he smiled at her with her golden honey eyes.

“Hey back,” she felt her nerves calm some. Stiles said hi to everyone else at the table, but mostly to the new guest. He was enthused to speak to someone new, so engrossed into a conversation about things that weren’t supernatural for once, that Stiles failed to notice the not very subtle hints of flirting Ginny kept offering to him. Stiles never reciprocated, he was too oblivious for it. But he never once stopped talking - Ginny knew all the right questions to ask. Almost as if someone, and by someone she meant Scott and Allison, had given her a Stiles 101 guide book beforehand.

At one point, Lydia wasn’t entirely sure when, Kira and Isaac joined the table. Kira and Scott were quiet and she thinks flirting, its hard to tell with them. They’re both so awkward sometimes. Isaac didn’t say much, he just listened to Ginny and Stiles blab while he held Allison’s hand under the table.

Lydia had said nothing, not even once. She didn’t want to interrupt, Stiles clearly was enjoying himself, but she also was very quiet due to her growing hate for Ginny Green. Not to mention a new found hate for a certain Allison Argent’s antics. Not Allison herself, she could never, but her devotion to making her life a living hell was becoming a new found loathing for her.

Much to her surprise, when the conversation transferred from Ginny and Stiles to Ginny and Kira for a moment, Lydia felt a hand reach in her lab and grab her hand. Lydia looked down, Stiles’ fingers entangling with hers. She looked up to meet his eyes, wondering what on earth he was doing, when she realized he was silently asking her if she was okay. There was a flutter in her chest, squeezing his hand and forcing a smile up at him. That seemed to satisfy Stiles, but he didn’t let go of her hand. They were holding hands under the table, and she didn’t want to let go. The thing was, it was obvious, too. The way Stiles’ arm had to angle, anyone at the table who had eyes could tell his hand was in her lap. Lydia wasn’t sure if maybe she too was a little evil, because she couldn’t make herself let go, despite the gaze of Ginny Green looking between them with a flicker of sadness and disappointment in her eyes. Stiles was clueless too, using his free hand to eat his lunch as he continued to talk about whatever their conversation had headed to now.

His hand stayed there for a couple minutes, Lydia appreciating his tender concern and the feel of his hand in hers too much to make them separate. It wasn’t until Lydia felt like she was being stared at that her grasp loosened. She looked over at Allison (across from her), and Scott (who sat at the end), both watching them with smug expressions. This immediately made Lydia snap her hand away from his and suddenly stand up at the lunch table, excusing herself abruptly.

Allison was happy with the outcome, but Scott was not. Scott looked guilty, Stiles looked confused, Ginny looked pleased, and Isaac and Kira just shrugged it off as moody Lydia.

“... You know what I mean?” Ginny said, talking to Stiles. His mind, however, was a little preoccupied with watching Lydia storm out of the cafeteria. “Stiles?” Ginny questioned, but everyone knew that he was a goner. A few seconds later he got up, without excuse, and followed Lydia's trail.

Ginny looked insulted. “What’s their deal?”

“They’re like in love or something,” Isaac informed, before anyone else could interject. Once everyone made it blatantly obvious that was the wrong answer, Isaac tried to laugh it off with a, “Uh, hell, like I know, right? Ha, they’re uh... I’m sure they’ll be right back.”

The table went silent. Ginny, without another word, stood up and left the table (leaving her untouched food for them to deal with).

Scott let out a chest rattling sigh. “Are you happy now?” he said to Allison, his face in the palm of his hands.

“Yes, perfectly.” Allison shimmied her shoulders and popped another tater tot in her mouth in enjoyment of her success. “It’s all going just as I planned.”

read part 6 here

#stydia fic #stydia #teen wolf fanfiction #denial stydia series #my stories #my stydia fics

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gay-otlc · 4 years ago

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Keepers of the Chaos (Chapter 2)

Summary: Tam, Linh, Keefe, Biana, and Fitz are part of the tiny fandom for Keeper of the Chaos, and Tam and Linh's podcast convinces some of their other friends to watch it as well. The group finds themselves strangely invested in this show, where students at Tumblr High School who work together to write about an elf named Sophia, cause incomprehensible chaos, and fight their rival Pinterest High School.

Content warnings: Cursing, food, L*ura

Word count: 2005

Notes: Check out the beautiful theme song here!

(Read on AO3)

Sophie rolls her eyes as she opens the link her girlfriend sent her and puts in her earbuds. Biana has been incessantly pestering her to watch Keepers of the Chaos for so long that Sophie half wants to watch it just to shut her up, but she's always tired, or busy, and she doesn't really like watching new things. Still, Biana asked her very nicely to listen to this one podcast, and she looked very pretty when she asked, so Sophie's dumb omni ass couldn't refuse.

"Welcome to the Twins of the Chaos podcast," it begins after loading for an obnoxiously long time. The girl speaking has a pretty voice, Sophie has to admit- sweet and melodic and vaguely amused.

Maybe listening to this podcast won't be so bad if she can listen to that girl's voice the whole time.

But another person speaks, adding "Where some chaotic twins discuss our favorite show, Keepers of the Chaos," and his voice is not as pretty. She continues listening anyway, since Biana may or may not murder her if she stops.

The two voices- whose names are Linh and Tam, apparently- start talking about Keepers of the Chaos some more, giving Sophie a summary she's heard tons of times from Biana and Fitz- though the twins explain it slightly more coherently and with less... whatever the verbal equivalent of keyboard smashing is. Biana usually starts rambling about her favorite characters, like Lynn- not "Lynn the fandom mom," but the other Lynn- and Avery, or sometimes Nora and Darwin. Sophie doesn't understand any of those names and loses track of the conversation as soon as it involves too many unfamiliar names.

But Tam and Linh are making more sense, at least for the most part, until they start mentioning specific couples. The conversation gets again comprehensive soon enough, though, and Sophie does smile at the name "The Dark Duck."

By the end, when Tam says "half of them wearing sleeping masks with teal eyes painted on and the other half watching the chaos with mild amusement," Sophie is curious enough to be mildly intrigued. She listens to their outro music, and before she can regret it, types out a text message to Biana.

Sophie: fine

Sophie: ill watch it

Biana responds instantly with an array of heart emojis. Sophie blushes.

Biana: can i come over and watch with u?

Sophie: ok!

Sophie: moms making mallowmelt

Sophie: but u cant have any

Biana: >:(

Biana: hope u like being single then

Sophie: fine u can have some mallowmelt

Biana: yayyyy!

Biana: ily

Sophie: ilyt

Sophie: now lets watch ur stupid show

Biana: on my way!!!

Sophie smiles, shaking her head. She's a little annoyed, but fine, it sounds interesting enough from the podcast. And what else would she be doing? Studying? Having US history as an alternative would make even the most horrible of shows seem good. She stuffs her textbooks into her backpack and shoves some things out of the way so her room looks a bit neater before rushing downstairs. The mallowmelt smells good enough to make her mouth water.

"Mmm..." she sighs, barely taking time to let it cool off before taking a large bite. "That's so good. Thanks, Mom."

Edaline smiles. "You're welcome. Just save some for your father and I."

"Fine, fine. I have to share with Biana, anyway." Sophie huffs and takes another bite. "She's coming over, is that alright? We're going to watch a show together."

"Sure, just make sure to get your homework done."

Sophie rolls her eyes. "Fine."

"And keep the door open!" Grady calls. Edaline laughs as Sophie's face flames.

"I'm going back to my room," she grumbles, taking a plate of mallowmelt with her and walking up the stairs. She manages not to trip over her own feet and drop the mallowmelt, thankfully, as she grabs her laptop and opens Netflix. Sighing, she searches for Keepers of the Chaos and clicks on the show that comes up before waiting for Biana to arrive.

The doorbell rings soon, and Sophie carefully sets down her laptop and her plate on her bed before rushing down the stairs. Panting slightly, she opens the door for her girlfriend. Biana's wearing a t-shirt with the Amsterdam flag on it. Sophie has no idea why. Maybe Biana likes the country? Her girlfriend is pretty weird. "Come on in," she says, realizing she's been staring. In her defense, Biana is pretty and Sophie is very omni.

"Ready to go watch Keepers of the Chaos?" Biana asks. She bounces on her toes slightly.

"Alright," says Sophie. "I set it up on my laptop in my room."

"Awesome! You'll love it."

Sophie follows Biana up the stairs and into her room. They sit on the bed together, Sophie leaning against the wall and Biana leaning against Sophie, and Biana presses play. Somber kazoos begin playing in the background as the theme song starts.

We're on the edge of chaos

No one is straight

We're making fanart

Because L*ura we hate

And we're gonna have teal eyes in the end!

We must be weird, and we must be gay

(We must be gay!)

We will find every bit of sanity that we have

And give it all to Lynn

Ohhhh

We must be gay!

Biana dances a little along with the song, and Sophie can't help but smile. A curvy, round-faced person with short dark hair and colorful earrings plays a few notes on the piano, and then a KEEPERS OF THE CHAOS logo flashes across the screen. Then, a group of students sit in a classroom.

"Shai! Tater! Lynn! You three finally got together?" says the same person who just played piano, gesturing to a redhaed wearing a Sappho lesbian flag cape. She's holding the fingerless-gloved hand of a lanky person with brightly colored hair, and they're holding hands with a tall girl who has chin length brown hair. The rest of the class applauds the fiancees before returning to their own conversations.

"Yep! Thanks, Ink," says Tater.

Ink smiles at them and turns to a person with light brown skin and golden hoop earrings partially covered by long dark hair. "Hi, Kiri, how was your break?"

"Good! Here's to a good 2021?" Kiri turns to the person next to them. "How about you, Ref?"

Ref has short brown hair and red glasses. "Yeah, my break was dOPE," she says, leaving everyone to wonder how he did that with their voice. "oH, and happy belated Hanukkah to Shai!"

"Thanks, you too. And guess what! I didn't set my hair on fire this year!"

A short guy with strawberry blonde hair looks concerned. "Um. Congratulations?"

"Thanks, Sam!"

Sophie looks away from the screen and at Biana. "There are a lot of characters..." she mutters.

"Yeah, but you get to know them well enough eventually," says Biana. "Now shh, let's keep watching!"

A lot of other characters are introduced in various conversations, and Sophie's brain has a hard time keeping track of them all. She does remember Tara, a curvy, bored-looking girl with long sideswept bangs, and Blue, a bisexual who may or may not be an arsonist. She doesn't know either of their personalities very well yet, but she likes them so far. Lucat, a pale, blue haired asexual, who later joins the Hanukkah conversation, also seems cool.

Once quite a bit of introductions are done- Sophie lost count at around twenty something- are over, an announcement comes over the school's loudspeakers.

"Welcome back, Tumblr High School!" announces a voice. "I hope you all had a good break. Now, the Tumblr staff have an important announcement for you all. High schools in this county, like ours, Pinterest High School, and Instagram High School, will be holding a competition. All members of the winning team will receive a scholarship to AO3 college. If you are interested, meet in room 69 after school. Now, onto other announcements..."

Somber kazoos play again as the principal's droning voice fades into the background. A montage of the previously introduced characters wishing they could go to AO3 college moves across the screen. After a few minutes of them zooming through school and talking about how fucking boring it is, all of them gather in the room (some of them with more jokes than others) to discuss the competition.

A blonde woman welcomes them into the room. They wait a while to make sure no one else will arrive, but once everyone is there, the woman clears her throat. "Hello, everyone! I'm glad you're interested in joining the competition. My name is Shannon Messenger, and I'm in charge of admissions at AO3 College. My coworker L*ura and I designed this competition."

Sophie gasps and looks at Biana. "L*ura? But isn't that the person they hate? They said that in the intro!" Biana smiles at her, and she blushes as she realizes that she's kind of... maybe... invested in the show now. She decides she'll endure the "I told you so"s later and looks back at the show, trying to telepathically tell the characters not to trust this L*ura person... and perhaps not Shannon either. It's too early to tell whether Shannon will be an antagonist or not.

"All of you will be working as a team to write a story together. The main premise is that a twelve year old girl named Sophia is a telepath, but she can't tell anyone her secret. Then, she meets a teal-eyed boy named Finn, and he tells her that she's an elf. She travels back to the elf world with him, where she struggles a bit at the elf school Firefox, makes friends with some other elves, learns that she is an illegal creation of a rebel group called the Dark Duck, and another rebel group- the Rarelynoticed- tries to kidnap and kill Sophia and her friend Deck. There are other details to be included into the story, which will be given out to the participants as a packet. The object of this competition is not to determine your ability at coming up with story ideas, but your ability to work in groups and execute well developed ideas. Does anyone have any questions?"

Someone raises their hand- a short, tanned girl. "Lynn?" prompts the principal.

"Did you say the rebel group was named the Dark Duck?"

"And the Rarelynoticed?" adds another person, with rectangular glasses and a red bracelet.

"Raise your hand before speaking, Auran," scolds the principal. "But yes, those are the names."

"Alright then," Auran mutters.

"Unless anyone else has questions, we'll be sending out sign up forms for everyone interested, and then we will distribute the information packets about your story. You can talk to each other and start planning."

No one else has questions, so once they've all filled out the sign up form, they gather in small groups and flip through the packets, making sarcastic comments or mocking names ("'Rarelynoticed' though-" a stylish hijabi named Raiin sighs as they come across a page of information about the group) as they try to form some semblance of a plan. Once they all agree that they've made a lot of progress, they make plans to meet up again soon and walk back home.

Unbeknownst to them, a pair of ominous teal eyes watch from above.

Somber kazoos play once again, and the credits roll.

"So, what'd you think?" Biana asks as Sophie closes her laptop.

Rather inaudibly, Sophie mumbles "It was good."

"What was that?"

"It was good! I liked it!"

Biana grins. "I told you so." She leans over and kisses Sophie on the cheek. "Thanks for watching it. I have to go do some homework, awesome seeing you!" As she walks out, Sophie hears her singing under her breath. "We must be gay..."

#tumblr kotlc fandom fandom #keepers of the chaos #shai types things #cursing tw #we must be g a y #shai's writing

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trashdeviant · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 2

Venom/Eddie x Reader

Tw: cussing

Your fists are trembling before you realize that you were clenching them enough to dig into the palm of your hands. As much as you considered laying your hands down flat to calm down, you could only unclench them in a gesture of stress before balling them up again. You had barely made it outside of the building when you rested your back against the wall.

“Fuck…” You rasp.

It was so infuriating when he decided to come at you with this passive-aggressive shit. Almost like he saw you as the problem. He loved Jessie and really missed having that shit-faced motherfucker in your life. Raf acts as if you betrayed him when you decide that you never wanted to come in contact with that childish low-life. You had plenty of names for Jess, but you really needed to shake them out of your head for now. This is about Raf stepping out of line with you.

Good. Great. Wonderful.

You felt like so much shit at the moment. Whenever things got rough you would always storm into the apartment to hug him and cuddle until he helped you calm down. A searing hot tear glided down your cheek, although your face was emotionless. It hurts.

Hurts to know that you couldn’t go to him this time. This is what you get when you refuse to spend time outside of your home. You’re not really sure how long this was going to last either. But you were as stubborn as you were torn between apologizing and finding another place to sleep tonight.

Finally your brows invert in anguish and you look up in a poor attempt to stop the tears from pouring. Your arms felt as heavy as your chest. It’s times like these that make you wonder if Raf even liked being your friend.

“You don’t get to fucking call me that…” It was more of a breath than a whisper, but it was an effort to try to keep youself from spiralling into thoughts that degraded you into thinking this was all your fault and that you were a terrible person.

Maybe you were, but at the moment you weren’t in the mood to hear it from yourself. Growing up you had to teach yourself to keep out of that spiral or you would do something drastic. It doesn’t always succeed and yet it was at least an effort being made.

This time your brows furrow as you aggressively wipe away tears on either side of your face before cracking your knuckles. You need to try to ground yourself and shake off some bad thoughts before you could hear them. That sounded weird. Now you rush out of the area to keep your mind running just as you were rather than focus on the bad thoughts. Sometimes you would pace around the apartment when you were alone just to think of things to defend yourself or think up whatever you could for a distraction. The latter being less useful than the first.

Right now you were jogging across the street to head to whatever seemed familiar. You had to be careful as you had the tendency to get side tracked and get a little lost in a street you rarely traveled.

Raf had no place to guilt trip you into even being friends with someone that cheated on you. Jess could never gather enough humanity to even acknowledge what you had gone through in that relationship. ‘Yeah I understand your decision…’ you scoff at the thought. Raf told you all sorts of shit like that after the break up. A few months later and Raf develops this little habit of scaring off anyone you would bring around him and later talk up your ex like a car salesman. You still haven’t felt like you needed to talk to Jess. As a matter of fact, you owed neither of them anything. Regardless of the fact that you three used to be an inseparable trio.

You grit your teeth.

Rafael is a selfish naive piece of shit if he thinks he will ever get you to crack and open up your life to that whore. You are not obligated to talk to them; that is that. If Raf can’t come to peace with you cutting a whole motherfucker out of your life then that was his own problem.

Fuck.

“Fuck!” You grunted silently to yourself-punching a nearby surface that seemed to be a wall.

The mere voice in your head that reminded you of his constant excuse made you cringe in a sudden wave of anger. ‘I’m stuck in the middle’, was short for, “You’re not being fair! Stop being the problem and make up with Jess so I can enjoy myself in the presence of both of you!”

First of all-Raf isn’t in the middle of anything! He is a grown man and can go see Jessie whenever he wants to or even invite him in while you’re out! He is the only one making everything such a big deal. ‘News flash, Raffie, you’re no peacemaker here!’, your blood boils at the fact that he couldn’t treat you two as separate friends. Even Jess was able to understand you wanted no part of them!

You cut people out of your life for a reason! Not only did they cheat on you, but was generally an asshole too! Just because Raf can’t gather the strength to end something completely does not mean you had to adapt to what he wanted! It is not illegal to cut someone out of your life and it could be perfectly healthy for you, even! Regardless if your circle has only gotten smaller and smaller over the years...

“I don’t need any of that shit! If I have to I’ll move, Raf!” Your voice hissing his nickname,”If you can’t live without that bitch and me then I’ll do you the fucking favor of cutting myself out of your life! Who the fuck says I need either of you!?”

You stop dead in your tracks and look down at your shoes. There was guilt and suffering swelling inside of you. You had only said that because you couldn’t think of any other way out of it than having him hate you. Hot streaks of tears return as you lower yourself into a crouch and hold your head. You don’t bother to fight the urge to pull your hair.

‘I do-I need you…’

A pathetic plea that lands on nobody’s ears. This was going to be the death of you if you keep going down this path. The sun was beginning to set. Orange and pink flourishes across the skies. Sobs rake through your body as you hide yourself into the alleyway. What the literal fuck? You could knock a man into a coma and here you were weeping like a lonely child. ‘You’re a selfish piece of shit-go to hell-he tries hard for you and here you are talking shit-what kind of friend are you-what kind of a sibling-a waste of a contact-a waste of a life-a bastard-motherfucking piece of-’

Your heart was stuck in a traffic of emotions. The selfish asshole doesn’t realize how badly you wish it could go back to the way it was too if it made things any easier. But like hell if you were going to ruin yourself again for the sake of his comfort. ‘Be the bigger person’ was such a load of bullshit. A ticket for the other to avoid consequence if he asked you.

A nervous hand is offered to your trembling form before you even realize there was anyone walking towards you, “What are you doing in here?”, he begins his question with your name, which was enough for you to snap your head up at him. ‘Eddie?’ You had forgotten how burnt up your eyes must have looked. Dropping your head in embarrassment you hide your bruised up features and take his hand. “Not having a good night.” Your own voice repulses you and you have to stop yourself at choking up as another wave of self-loathing thoughts creep up on you.

There was no lying to him considering you couldn’t think of a good cover story for crying in an alley in the dark. The least you could do was keep it vague to spare him from listening to you gripe about something so irrelevant to him.

“Need me to walk you home?” Panic surges through you for less than a second at his question.

“No! No-thank you. Uh…” You mentally shake yourself before you continue, ”Um, do you mind if we just walk to your place?”

A sigh leaves you when you relish in his nod. You fail to notice how he had helped you up and draped his jacket over your still trembling body as you walked. Eddie most likely thought you were shaking from the cold rather than your little meltdown. How cute.

After a moment of nothingness that leaked into you like acid, you decide to open your mouth despite how your sore throat protests, “Thank you, Eddie.”

“It’s no problem.” He says it so casually it almost makes you nauseated with guilt.

There was another silent pause, “So…” You began, “How did you… find me?” That insinuated that he was looking for you, but you didn’t know what else to say after half of that question had already left your mouth.

He purses his lips for a second. Then proceeded to do something that finally had you smile at him and even muffle the wrenching ache in your heart. Eddie stammers and stumbles over a word or two as visual warmth creeps up his ears. You ponder what he was hiding before he is able to speak again, “We-I-I forgot our-my tater tots and I ran back to your place and your brother answered and told us to come find you here…”

“Okay…” that made you stare wide eyed. He was kind of a shitty liar considering Raf doesn’t know where you are.

He stirs at your silence and leaves your gaze about forty times in the matter of two seconds. To his shock you begin giggling. Then you began to chuckle. Followed by some laughing that was hard enough that you had to hold your stomach. He holds you still as you take a moment to recover. ‘Damn, wouldn’t it be crazy if he was some psycho stalking me or whatever?’

Maybe your laughter was contagious or you just looked stupid, but he begins to cackle along with you. You both probably looked pretty stupid. With a careful step you continue the journey back to his place the moment your laughter slowly dies down.

“You’re weird” You wheezed through a last few fits of giggling that left you breathless.

Eddie was just as bad as he wipes away some water building up in his eye, “You don’t know the half of it.”

The bad thoughts push at your neck and build a little pressure in your chest as a harsh reminder that you shouldn’t be enjoying yourself. You smile through the pain, yet he asks you if you’re alright and if you’re hurting somewhere. His voice goes soft with an undertone of concern. You couldn’t swat at the butterflies that shift in your organs.

“I’m fine. Just shit hit the fan back at my place.” You wince in disgust when you reveal that little detail. Eddie notices and offers implied choices, “Want to talk about it?”

You could either walk in more awkward silence or you could awkwardly blow up on him. Much to your own displeasure you settle for the latter.

“Do you believe in shit like ‘being the bigger person’?” You curl your fingers to make air quotes around your words as you speak. You didn’t want to be talking to a brick wall of morals after all.

Unsure of what you were expecting, you turn to look at him, “Not really. I mean… Past experiences makes that kind of complicated to answer, but… not really.”

Sighing, you look forward to avoid eye contact; naturally as the coward you were, “Raf only blew up on you because he thinks you would ruin the chances of me focusing on a friendship with an ex of mine.” He scoffs, but you continue before he could say anything, “But Jess is kind of a shitty person and I really don’t care about bringing that fucker back into my life for his sake-uh since me Raf and Jess were all friends once…” You stopped there deciding last minute to keep a lid on it.

“Does Raf know you don’t want to be friends again?” You didn’t expect him to actually say anything after that. Nobody really ever did aside from Rafael.

“Yeah, it’s been almost a year already, but it still comes up.”

“Wait-why does he care? Can’t he still be friends with Jess and be your brother?”

Eddie seemed genuinely confused which was actually kind of adorable, but you ignored that thought, “Because he feels like he’s stuck in the middle of us. He wants it to go back to how it was when all three of us were together and tearing shit up.”

“So it’s really about him then?” More of a statement than a question. It made you look up at him in realization. The only feeling that lingered from your meltdown was the guilt of being a selfish asshole. You almost forgot to be a little pissed at him by the time you were mostly out of it.

He takes note of your reaction and speaks carefully, “I’m starting to think you two have really different feelings going around about different parts of this situation.” You nod in affirmation.

“So that’s probably why you two haven’t figured a way around any of this. Like you both rely on one of you just clicking and finally getting it so one of you can have it your way. But if you don’t then it’ll just come back up again later, right?”

You nod again, mostly in a daze. He was actually making sense to you somehow.

“That is so unfair...”

That actually makes you huff out a bit of laughter, “Tell me about it.”

You two finally make it to his apartment complex. By the time you two make it to the door of his apartment he’s already pushing you inside. Playfully of course. In his defense you were acting like a vampire that needed to verbally be invited in.

You stand politely next to his couch before you hear him scoff jokingly, “Do I look like the Queen of England?” When you don’t respond he steps into your view to hold your arms comfortingly, “Relax. Sit.”

Offering an apologetic smile you add onto you nervous behavior, “I’m sorry I’m just kind of… It’s been a while since I’ve…” You didn’t want to sound all that depressing, “Look I’ll try to…” Jesus fuck this was a disaster, “Ugh… I-I’m…” You wish you hadn’t said anything at all at this point. Huffing in defeat you finish your thought, “I’m just tired. I’m sorry.”

Eddie looks at you closely as if to inspect you.

The silence was always weird. What was he thinking and why did it always take this long? Was he thinking of a way to kick you out? Your internal stress was rudely interrupted when he places something in front of you. The smell of cupped noodles pushes your embarrassment down your throat; almost forgotten. You didn’t seem to understand right away. Did you look hungry? Was your stomach making weird noises? Enough!

You took a forkful and hummed thankfully.

He takes his place next to you with a cup of his own. Perhaps he could sense that you were still bothered by your situation, or maybe he was just curious, you weren’t sure which as he begins to inquire, “Does Jess know you don’t want to be friends?”

Nodding, you swallow whatever is left in your mouth, “Yeah. I mean sometimes I hear from Raf that Jess would rather talk it out and I don’t know. Explain what happened that night maybe. Raf tells me that things have changed and how Jess changed, but I don’t… I don’t actually want to find that out for myself.” You couldn’t help but shrink at how horrible you were beginning to sound now that it was all being said out loud.

More silence.

“Should you really have to?”

There was a second before you choke up dryly at your next thought, “If I don’t then I’m just a coward and Raf is going to give up on me and won’t talk to me and-” Scorching tears return at full force by the time you feel yourself shaking against someone’s chest, “-I’ll be alone and I don’t want to be-not like this-I don’t want to be-” Arms tightening around you never made you feel so small. Your voice was growing less and less coherent and yet you pretended otherwise as you kept babbling on about fearing yourself. Does Rafael really think you don’t care enough about him if you don’t go back to being friends with your own fucking ex? You ball yourself up and cling to his jacket as if you would slip into the void if you let go.

‘Back at square one’ your mind jested. How would he ever talk to you again after this? Eddie was probably thinking ‘What have I gotten myself into?’ right about now. You were a wreck basically the first day you’ve met him! At least Raf didn’t have to worry anymore considering you ruined this poor dude’s night. A devastated smile tugs at your lips. His seriousness wavers at the feeling.

“What?” He has to pull away to look at you.

Your eyes were puffy, skin slick with tears, bruises still evident. Not only were you disgusting, but tears had soaked through his jacket, much to your embarrassment. You naturally avoid his gaze for the millionth time that night, “I’m sorry for fucking up your night.”

For a minute he seems to be at a loss for words. You mentally slap yourself for even saying anything and putting him in such an awkward position. Just as you were about to fill in the gap with more gibberish and half baked thoughts, he retorts, “You didn’t fuck anything up.”

You blink up at him to see that he was smiling down at you.

“Okay, sure, you’re crying on my couch and I don’t really know what to do with my hands-” His face almost beams when you snort weakly at his comment, “-but I would rather have you here than crying alone in some ditch-or alley in the dark.”

Then suddenly, something hit you. You wouldn’t be crying in his arms tonight if you just kept your conversation light. If you didn’t blurt out each and every little detail. Mostly because it was weird to do to a stranger you met just that day. Even most friends would look for distractions as an answer. He asked about your situation and kept prying. He was looking for the smaller details. Because he’s a reporter.

Or maybe he was just that nice of a person.

You move one hand to hold your side as you begin another contagious wave of laughter that resulted in you hiding your face in his shoulder. It was more down-played than the last, but still unrelenting. You weren’t sure why, but it all just seemed weird enough to you to be laughable. Not too long after were there strings of laughter rumbling throughout his body. For some reason, the bouncing of your head against his quaking shoulder was automatically hysterical to you. Your laughter grew by the second. This had to stop.

“What’s so funny?” Eddie snickered.

Only after a humiliating snort or two did you answer, “You!” the mirth finally dives back into calmness as you provide some clarity, “You’re just,” your words were broken by a lingering breath of laughter, “so weird…”

A nervous chuckle draws your attention, “Weird good or weird bad?”

“I don’t know,” a bit of mischief teases your lips when you see his reaction, “You go looking for me in an alley after the shitty breakfast I gave you and let me into your apartment all ugly with tears.”

Slowly, joy kicked at his lungs. His laugh was cute. Man, if this dude turns out to be a murderer just lurring you in, you were going to be pissed.

“Yeah… I think you’re a good weird.” You didn’t realize how close Eddie was to you until you sneak a peak of his deep smile.

He seemed to realize it too as he takes the opportunity to lean a little closer and wipe away any lingering tears off of your face, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was coated in honey when you decide you want to meet him halfway. You begin slow. He was so close to you; his breath easily warming your skin and sending goosebumps up your arms. Suddenly you were cold.

You blink at the view of him continuing to eat his leftovers.

“Your soups gettin’ cold.” The shit-eating grin that he bares was enough to light a fire under your ass.

Shock was written all over your face, nevertheless, you grab your soup and continue to eat. There was some silence that weighted the atmosphere. Maybe he was expecting a different reaction out of you, you weren’t sure, but nobody was about to be playing hard to get with you right now. You cackle internally.

“So do you-”

A smile that could sell for innocence graces your features.

He swipes his tongue over the corner of his lips slowly to catch the drop of soup from the small corn you had flung at him. It catches your gaze through the corner of your eye. Feeling like you’ve won, you continue to eat.

Unfortunately you only had half a minute to mentally brag. A lukewarm piece of noodle smacks lamely into your jawline before falling into the remainder of your soup. You gasp and shoot an infamous glare which slowly falters beneath the playful grin that surfaces.

With a flick of your index finger you move another piece of food on the tip of your fork. In a flash, you bring a fist down on the handle and launch a small piece of partially soaked chicken right into what would have been his chest.

What happened instead was actually quite impressive. Your eyes widen to see Eddie lunge forward and catch the food in his mouth. For a second you swear you see his teeth sharpen, but dismiss it as a mere exaggeration of his action. You raise your hands to defend your face as he chuckles and flicks another one at you.

You cry out in laughter and launch it back at him; hitting his nose. Another one flies at you, but you slap it out of your way. It splashes into your soup and further dirties your hoodie. At the moment you didn’t really care. That being said, a few more minutes into your little warfare and your hoodie was as bad as your crying face was a few moments ago. Eddie wasn’t as bad after catching two more when they were just a little too overhead.

“You want me to wash your hoodie for you?” He gestures to the filth that caked the fabric. He looked smug albeit a little apologetic.

“Nah it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” An eyebrow raises and you cave, “Uh… I would take it off, but I didn’t bring a shirt…”

Humiliation manifests on your face just as Eddie raises a brow. There’s no issue when it came to Raf seeing you shirtless, but with someone so new? It was weird. You can’t help but be a little insecure. He scratches the back of his neck in thought before offering another option, “I could give you a shirt, no problem.”

You were going to decline, but you could feel something slick and cold sticking to your stomach. Shivering you nod gratefully, “Please?”

Keeping close to him you follow towards a closet full of clothing. Eddie pulls his shirt over his head. Your eyes immediately trace the muscles that flex and contour his back. Fuck, it actually makes you want to cry. You play it off as a sigh and peel your eyes away from him as he slips into a clean shirt. Were you making things weird? No he probably didn’t notice anything. He hasn’t made a sound yet anyways. Yeah-no it’s nothing. He can’t possibly see that look on your face! Did you see those tattoos? Wipe that drool off your face, he’s turning around!

He places a soft fabric into your hands and points to the bathroom. You were still too ashamed to meet his eyes and notice his smug expression. Instead, here you were in his kind-of-gross bathroom. Stripping off your hoodie you pull the shirt over your top half. If you were being honest, you wish you were out there in front of him. Your mind went into the gutter while you imagine trying to show off your muscles and whatnot.

“Everything okay in there?” You jump and reflexively grab your hoodie off of the sink.

“Y-yeah. I’ll be right out.”

Anxiously, you pull at the collar of the shirt. You couldn’t stop yourself. Pulling it closely to your lips, you inhale lightly. His scent was almost like its own spice. A sweet musk with enough zest you sweep you off your feet.

You hear him shuffling around in his living room and quickly make your way out. The shirt was an easy fit on you, actually. Eddie was a pretty big guy anyways so you were grateful for the size. Your eyes glaze upon the shirt he wears now. Imagine tearing into such thin fabric… You catch yourself before getting lost in the figuration again.

“Thanks. I’ll give it back-”

“Don’t worry about it. Looks better on you.”

‘Smooth Criminal’ was written all over him, “Not as good as you look right now.”

“You think I look good?” He stalks up to you and you feel your heart flutter.

“Didn’t realize I stuttered.” You hum, amused.

Before things could escalate, Eddie clears his throat. He seemed to be keeping himself back. It was absolutely annoying…

“You stayin’ the night?”

“Only if you’ll let me.” There’s some hopefulness in your words.

He catches it and feeds you a promising grin, “Guess you’re stayin’.”

The rest of that night was a blur. But much to your displeasure you two didn’t do much of anything. You could tell because you were both leaning against each other on his couch with the TV on. The urge to kick something in frustration was strong enough to pick Eddie as a target. Not that you didn’t have a nice time, but you would rather be walking off a pair of sore legs right about now. He stirs next to you and leans his back against the couch; taking some weight off of you.

You desperately want to move, but not off of the couch. You wanted to lay your head in the crook of his neck and you weren’t even sure why. That was weird. He literally met you yesterday…

‘What the fuck.’

Your head was comfortably tucked against his toned thighs. Too busy being stuck in your thoughts you fail to notice you were slowly being pushed into his lap. You really needed to stop daydreaming because you are doing things you basically tell yourself not to do.

Eddie was already waking up before you could fix your mistake! Quickly shutting your eyes, you pretend to be asleep. A moment later and Eddie was shifting beneath you in contempt of trying to control your breathing. Were you being elevated? You refused to face the music by opening your eyes just yet. Not even when you felt his seemingly huge hand caress the back of your head.

He does lean down to you though. Your heart comes to a screeching halt in hopes of him leaning down to kiss you. However that does not happen. You could feel him. Eddie was taking in your scent, greedily. You miss the chance to stop yourself from shuddering. This almost made you feel vulnerable. But worst comes to worst, you could take a hit and dish one out too.

There was an animalistic rumble that has you peek through your lashes. It was horrifyingly good and ran up your spine better than any man’s “lower” voice. The subtle clicking was weird but did wonders to your core. In spite of peeking, it was just Eddie’s nervous face.

The jig is up.

You squint at him-as if you were just waking up-appearing tired and disoriented, “Dude,” You couldn’t help throwing in a drowsy chuckle before continuing, “are you sniffing me?”

Mentally jumping for joy at the fact that it took the attention off of you for sleeping on his lap, you watch in amazement as he stammers with an excuse and chokes up on nothing. He was as nervous and messy as you were.

In the end he comes up with nothing short of, “I just… thought you smelt nice… is all…”

As nice as it was to see him sweat over anything, you crack a smile and offer some honesty, “Thanks. I think you smell nice too.”

Shit was so awkward it was just easier to laugh at each other at this point. You sit up and make a bit of a show at stretching. With your arms raised, you make sure to flex. The shirt was a little on the thinner side which made it easier to tease your little audience as it left almost no secrets and gave just enough details. You finish with a scripted yawn that flows into a soft moan and rest your hands behind your neck. Lasty, you blink away your bedroom eyes to see him still staring. You almost laugh at him when he opens his mouth to close it again.

‘How pathetic is that?’ You chuckle to yourself.

He looked frazzled and scared to say anything. You feel a surge of energy and confidence the moment he practically turns around to run away. There was no way in hell you didn’t just hear him whimper.

Laughing only when he makes it into the safety of his bathroom, your phone nearly vibrates off of the table.

[R: Aye call me or get over here]

[R: Cause I just got you a fight]

[R: Its flashin’ big money]

[Y: How big?]

You two may be fighting, but when it came to you fighting other people, it was an implied compromise that you two still work together.

[R: Call me or smthng]

Eddie was just coming out of the bathroom. His bed head looking more like it was on purpose than an accident.

[Y: Can’t rn… I’ll be over in ten]

[Y: Ttyl]

Pocketing your phone you look at Eddie bashfully, “Hey… big guy?” oh god-no awkward…

“Big guy?” His grin was already talking dirty.

“Careful-I know where you sleep.” You point at him accusingly before laughing it off, “Anyways…” ‘You’re stalling…’

“This was fun… and you’re really nice. So thank you…” He at least seemed pleased by your words so far, “But, Raf texted me so…” Until now. His face was weirdly disappointed. All you could do was sigh mentally, ‘I don’t want to go either…’.

“Are we going to see you again sometime or?” You gave it some thought. You didn’t actually have a job with your winnings mainly covering the rent. Not to mention, Raf was the one working at the bakery on 24th street. Memories flash you with images of you lounging on the couch or working out. You had all the free time in the world.

For a second, you twist from side to side indecisively. You kind of wish for a way to attach him to you hip. You liked him and despite all the teasing and whatnot, he seemed as shy and weird as you were. Just as lost.

“Hm… What are you doing tonight?” The smile he answers with was rewarding.

“Don’t know yet… You tell me…” Jesus fuck, did your heart just float away?

Keeping your cool you place your palm against his bicep, “I know a cute little place we could meet up.”

You give him the location of a sweet little cafe that was open in the late hours. He was familiar with it and called it a date. A swift hand grabs your hoodie. You quickly toss it onto your shoulder and poke some fun at how you may just keep the shirt. It felt softer than any of your shirts. Everything felt like it was lingering, “You want me to walk you home?”

“I’ll be fine.” Punctuating your words with a shameless flex of your bicep. You really didn’t want to go, nonetheless, you bid him farewell after a bittersweet chuckle, “Anyways-Got to bounce. Ciao.”

He waves you off and closes the door behind you. Your heart needs a moment to deal with the loss of company. As you move down the hall to exit the building you hear Eddie’s muffled voice, “Wh-God shut up V.”

He seemed irritated, but he was chuckling. Strange. Who was he talking to?

You pay it no mind for now and focus on your journey back home.

#venom x reader #Eddie Brock x reader #venom #trashwriting #this was also in the drafts so #sorry for the wait #in case any of you are wondering I do look into my inbox at your supportive comments #still helps a lot #thanks

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hashtagdex · 4 years ago

Note

could you do misc 7 please!

thank you so much!

7: If I die, I’m haunting you first.

The jamb of the sliding door to Jack’s—arguably pretty fucking big—balcony digs into Nursey’s back as he leans against it, but it’s better than being stuck in a room with fifteen other people.

The noise from everyone in the living room, squeezed together on the couch and peppered across the armchairs, drifts through the glass. Holster is yelling the loudest, but Tater is right there with him. Ransom is probably having the time of his life sandwiched between the two of them, Nursey thinks. A comfortably cool breeze hits his too-warm skin and it’s a wonderful contrast to the stuffy air they just escaped.

In front of him, Dex is looking out over the city with his hands on the railing as he takes a deep breath. Nursey’s eyes get caught on Dex’s shoulders, exposed by the tank top he stole from Nursey before they had to leave for Jack’s birthday party earlier, then trail down Dex’s back.

Nursey loves looking at Dex, obviously, but he especially loves it when Dex is like this, relaxed and comfortable. The tension will undoubtedly return to his shoulders the moment he slips into his new jersey with the C sewn into it, so Nursey drinks it up while he can.

He’s taking in the way the dusk light hits Dex’s hair—he knows it’s awfully clichéd, sue him—when Dex turns around.

He’s smiling at Nursey, a soft little thing that Nursey can’t help but mirror. Dex smiled like that too when he kissed Nursey for the first time, right before he had to leave for the summer three months ago and left Nursey standing in the kitchen for Tango to find ten minutes later still rooted to the spot with his jaw still on the floor.

“It’s so nice out,” Dex says, tearing Nursey out of his memories.

Nursey hums in agreement as another gust of wind hits his face.

“You should come out here,” Dex suggests, leaning against the railing. Nursey decidedly does not think about how high up Jack and Bitty live.

He laughs instead and shakes his head. “I can tell from here.”

“You sure? It’s really nice,” Dex tries again, quirking up an eyebrow as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. Nursey’s glad Dex decided against wearing a shirt with sleeves.

“I’m good here,” Nursey says and moves into a little less uncomfortable position against the door jamb.

“You’re not, like, scared of heights, are you?” Dex asks and pushes off the railing to take the few steps back to Nursey.

Well.

“No,” Nursey shoots back immediately, too quickly not to be suspicious.

“You are!”

“I’m not!”

“Nursey, you chose the top bunk!”

“Yeah, well, the top bunk is the cool one,” Nursey defends, crossing his arms. “And it’s not that high up.”

“What about that time in freshman year when you climbed up the fucking roof of the Haus?” Dex’s voice is oozing disbelief.

Nursey shrugs. “Liquid courage.”

“You live in New York!”

Nursey uncrosses his arms. “That doesn’t mean I have to scale the fucking skyscrapers!”

“Oh my God, you’re impossible.” Dex chuckles fondly. “I can’t believe i fell for you.” A flush paints his face a pretty pink as he stretches a hand out toward Nursey. When Nursey looks at him quizzically, he continues, “Would holding my hand help?”

Nursey really wants to hold Dex’s hand, has been wanting to for a handful of excruciating months. He wants so much, so he swallows down any mental pictures of this balcony collapsing under their weight or either of them tipping over the edge and reaches out.

“If I die, I’m haunting you first,” he warns, but laces their fingers together and lets Dex lead him out toward the railing.

“We’d both die,” Dex reminds him unnecessarily, but he squeezes Nursey’s hand tightly.

“Oh, fuck you,” Nursey bites out, squeezing back.

“I swear you won’t die,” Dex says and runs his thumb along Nursey’s hand. Nursey has to admit that it is helping, kind of. “This is structurally sound, I promise.”

Nursey clings to Dex’s hand and makes it a point to avoid looking over the railing at the cars and people eighteen stories below them. Instead, he trains his eyes on the skyline of Providence, speckled with the bright lights. It reminds him of home, of New York, a little and something in him settles.

He briefly imagines having Dex on the roof of his childhood home and decides he should really convince Dex to visit him in New York one day.

“Told you it was nicer out here,” Dex says in a low voice, squeezing his now sweaty hand again.

Nursey presses their shoulders together, then looks over at Dex. “Yeah, it really is.”

Dex meets his gaze, impossibly fond. “You fucking sap.” He smiles, a soft little thing that Nursey can’t help but mirror, and leans in.

#nurseydex #dexnursey #derek nurse #william poindexter #have some saps!#im so sorry this took three months #but i hope this makes up for i #it*#jack turning 27! good for him #also good for ransom. he really has it going for him #is he wearing tater's jersey?#who says he didn't make it a croptop to show off some of his assets?#have a good day li!!#shardsoflesbianism #answered #my writing

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wheresmynaya · 4 years ago

Text

Lost in the Lights Ch.10|Brittana

A/N - Am I heartbroken about that embarrassment of a game I had to witness last week? Yes. Do I wanna talk about it? God, no LOL. Hopefully the McKinley Titans do a better job in the playoffs! Might even mess around and make QB!Britt’s Game Day playlist 🤷🏽‍♀️

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut

Santana stomps her way over to Quinn’s locker and slams it shut in one big huff. Quinn looks up from packing her duffle bag, annoyed confusion written all over her face.

“Problem, Lopez?”

Santana continues to grimace but looks hesitantly around the locker room, her brows furrowed and her shoulders stiff. Her chest feels tight with everything she’s been holding in and she swears she’s about to burst at the seams if she doesn’t say something soon.

The squad filtered out minutes before and Brittany’s still practicing on the field with the Titans, but she can never be too sure. Someone’s always listening it seems and she can’t be burned a second time.

“Hello?” Quinn waves her hand at Santana, “Is there a reason that you’re going around slamming lockers?”

Santana can hear the annoyance in her tone but her facial expression says differently when their eyes finally meet. For as long as they’ve known each other, all it takes is one look to realized something deeper is going on.

Quinn softens, “Shit. What happened?”

Santana shakes her head and lets out the tiniest whimper, “I’m fucking this up.”

Quinn catches Santana just as she stars to slide down the lockers in trembling mess. She pushes Santana to sit on the bench instead.

Hot tears start to stream down Santana’s cheeks like the floodgates have finally opened. She hasn’t let herself feel the brunt of everything yet, not until now. It’s a little relieving, but it’s not enough.

“What are you talking about?” Quinn asks.

“I’m fucking this up.”

Quinn lets out a sigh but keeps holding Santana up as she continues to sob. Instead of pressuring her to talk, Quinn just let’s the girl cry it out first.

Once Santana has finally settled down some, Quinn hands her a couple tissues from the travel pack she keeps in her duffle. She eyes her wearily before trying to get an answer out of Santana again.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”

Santana’s averts her gaze to the ground. Her jaw is set and her lips are sealed as she wipes the angry tears from her face.

The reluctance to talk has Quinn rolling her eyes.

“Don’t be stubborn. You’ve been in a bad mood all day then you go and do that,” Quinn gestures to her locker, “Just tell me. Is it about your dad? Is he giving you a hard time again?”

Santana shakes her head.

Quinn thinks, “Is this about JBI’s blog? Because I doubt anyone is believing a word he says after his whole tater tot conspiracy was a bust. He’s already lost a ton of followers, I think he’s just reaching now.”

“It’s not that.”

“Okay…then what is it?”

Santana lets out a deep sigh, “She just wanted to talk and I couldn’t even do that.”

“Brittany?” Quinn asks hesitantly.

Santana nods.

“What’d she want to talk about?”

Santana threads her fingers together and squeezes, “Us.”

Quinn looks confused, “And you couldn’t talk about that because…”

“Why do you think?” Santana grumbles, “Because I’m a goddamn coward, that’s why. She wanted to talk about us and what we were doing and I just – I couldn’t.”

Quinn sighs and starts to rub Santana’s back.

“I knew it was coming. She’s been wanting to talk for weeks now I think. I just – I did what I always do,” Santana admits, “I got in my head about it. I let that stupid little voice take over. I told her I didn’t feel the same way she did. I told her that I wasn’t looking for something serious.”

Quinn stays quiet as Santana continues to rant.

“I don’t know why the fuck I said that! I thought I was getting better at this. I thought I was making progress but I still ended up doing the same thing!” Santana adds, “I fucked this up and now she’s done with me, Q. I didn’t think she’d do it. I thought I’d have more time to figure everything out.”

“What’s there to figure out?” Quinn wonders.

“I don’t know,” Santana shrugs, “How to have a girlfriend when most of the student body here are assholes? How to have a relationship with someone that isn’t solely based on sex or how to boost my reputation? How to do any of this when my dad can barely look at me because I’m gay! How am I meant to be any good for her when I can barely look at myself sometimes? I’m ready and I’m not and that’s the worst fucking thing about this. I’m my own goddamn enemy.”

Quinn looks a little surprised by Santana’s honesty but she nods like she gets it.

Santana moves to hold her head in her hands. That might’ve been the first time she’s ever owned her sexuality so easily but she can’t even enjoy it right now.

“What do you want to do?” Quinn asks but Santana only shrugs again.

She’s been thinking about that all night and day, but there’s only one thing that keeps coming to mind and it isn’t really an answer. It’s more like a realization that’s probably been in the back of her mind for a long time now, maybe since the Homecoming dance.

She doesn’t know how it’ll help now. This isn’t some rom-com movie where all it takes is this grand gesture, a profession of her true feelings and all is right in the world. No, there’s real work to be done first and she hasn’t a clue where to start.

“I don’t want to lose her,” Santana replies softly.

“Well, fix it then?” Quinn suggests which earns her a disbelieving look, “What? You’re Santana Lopez, resident bad bitch of McKinley. You’re not supposed to be afraid of anything, yet here you are letting all of these fears push you around.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Santana, you literally just said – “

“I know what I said!” Santana snaps.

Quinn purses her lips but relaxes, “We’ve had this conversation so many times. When you don’t try, you let them win. You want that? You want these people to be the reason why you can’t go out on that field tomorrow night and kiss the girl that you love?”

Santana doesn’t even waver at the word, she just wonders how long Quinn’s known.

“No.”

“Well then…”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Sure it is.”

“Tell that to Kurt,” Santana huffs, “He gets a slushie facial on the regular. Remember that kid everyone thought he was dating? He was bullied so badly that he had to transfer schools! I can’t deal with that. If I get into one more fight, that’s it for me. Honestly, I don’t think I could handle going through the rest of this year dealing with that shit and I can’t drag her down with me. She’s so much better than this place and everyone in it.”

Quinn narrows her eyes, “Well for starters, Brittany put a stop to slushie facials. There hasn’t been an incident in months.”

“That you know of,” Santana replies, “The football team isn’t the only ones capable of throwing a slushie in my grill.”

“You act like you’re taking on the entire world by yourself,” Quinn argues, “You realize you don’t have to do that, right?”

Santana frowns, “What are you talking about?”

“You’re trying to protect her and that’s thoughtful and all, but did it ever occur to you that she doesn’t need it?” Quinn replies, “You keep putting yourself in this position, but you don’t have to be in it. You have more people than you know that are rooting for you. Lean on them because you don’t have to face these people alone.”

Santana laughs bitterly at that, “You and who else? My mom? You guys going to create a secret service to follow me around everywhere to make sure nothing happens to me?”

Quinn lets out a frustrated sigh, “Well what now then? You just going to let them dictate your life? Just like your dad?”

Santana’s jaw tightens at that. She knows Quinn struck that nerve on purpose and she both hates and loves her for that.

“You can’t compare yourself to Kurt,” Quinn adds, “What you’ve both gone through is different so you can’t use him as an excuse.”

“He doesn’t deserve the way people treat him,” Santana replies, “The way I’ve treated him.”

“And neither do you, but there will always be assholes wherever you go,” Quinn says, “The difference between you and him is that one of you isn’t going to let them win. One of you is still trying.”

Santana’s at a loss for words and they both fall into silence.

“You said you don’t want to lose her?” Quinn mentions a moment later, “Well it doesn’t look like that from where I’m standing.”

“I don’t want to lose her,” Santana reiterates.

“Then you should probably talk to her before you give her the wrong idea, genius.”

Santana shakes her head and lets out a bitter laugh, “You make it sound like it’s the easiest thing in the world to do.”

“It is.”

“Says the girl that has practically dated Mike Chang for months yet refused to put a label on it until two weeks ago!”

Quinn purses her lips at Santana’s outburst, “We didn’t put a label on it because Mike’s parents didn’t want him dating during his Senior year. It had nothing to do with what we wanted, but that’s not what we’re talking about. We’re talking about you and Brittany.”

Santana sucks in a breath to calm herself down. It’s like a quiet apology that only she and Quinn share after years of friendship. They just sit together for awhile in silence while Santana’s mind works through it all.

“I don’t do relationships, Q,” Santana admits softly.

“You have an excuse for everything,” Quinn laughs, “You don’t do them because you’ve been dating boys this whole time when you’re gay as hell.”

Santana smiles at that.

“Are you really considering stepping back in the closet just because you’re too afraid to go out of your comfort zone?” Quinn asks, “Because that’s the kind of message you’re sending.”

“I don’t know,” Santana huffs.

“Jesus,” Quinn groans as she goes to face Santana fully, “The answer is no. You’re not going to do that. You’re a fighter, Santana. I don’t know when you forgot that but you are.”

Santana sits a little straighter. She doesn’t know when she forgot either.

“We’ve been friends for so long and I’ve seen the difference in how you are with Brittany versus all the dumbass guys you’ve dated,” Quinn says, “It’s a good different and you deserve it. After all that bullshit you went through last year, you deserve to have someone too. I don’t know how many times I need to tell you that before it gets through.”

Santana feels a different kind of loved, a kind that only longtime friends can share, as she takes in Quinn’s advice. There’s few people in her life that she can trust to give it to her straight and Quinn’s one of those people.

“You hear me, Lopez?” Quinn urges, “You deserve this and so help me God, if anyone tries to say anything to you or her I’ll – “

“Okay, okay,” Santana pauses her with a chuckle, “I get it.”

Quinn relaxes and gives her an encouraging smile, “Talk to her.”

“Tomorrow’s that big game or whatever,” Santana frowns, “I don’t want to be a distraction.”

“Then do it after?” Quinn suggests, “Whatever. The sooner the better though.”

That night, Santana paces her room trying to screw her head on straight. It’s pep talk after pep talk, anything to ease the anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach. If she’s prepared well enough, then maybe it won’t be so scary to put her heart on the line like this?

At least, that’s what she’s trying to tell herself.

Tomorrow’s the final game of the Playoffs and she knows how important that is for Brittany, so she doesn’t want to cloud her concentration. She’ll keep to herself and leave Brittany be for now.

Santana decides that she’s going to approach Brittany after the game like Quinn suggested. Hopefully she’ll be in high spirits after a big win and Santana won’t have to compete with the blues of losing.

Who is Santana kidding? She knows that if anyone can take the Titans all the way, it’s Brittany.

\\\\\

As Brittany returns home after her morning run, she’s surprised to see her mom up and about in the kitchen. She takes out her headphones and kicks off her sneakers just in time to hear her mom call out to her.

“Morning kiddo!” Whitney calls out cheerfully. She’s wearing her polka dotted apron and there’s a spatula in one hand, a frying pan in the other.

“Morning,” Brittany smiles as she ventures in. Her stomach grumbles at the smell of bacon, “You’re up early.”

“Got the day off today,” Whitney tells her, “Thought you could use a real breakfast to start off the day. It’s an important one.”

Brittany smiles before going to grab a water. She was hoping the run would help clear her head since her thoughts have been running a muck since her conversation with Santana in the locker room. It helped a little, but the brunette still lingered in the back of Brittany’s mind.

Santana was a mystery to her. A beautiful, frustrating mystery.

“Everything alright?” Whitney asks with her brows furrowed.

Brittany continues to stare off in space, “Totally.”

“Then maybe you should shut the fridge,” Whitney teases, “You’re letting out all the cold.”

Brittany snaps out of it and realizes that she’s just been standing there with her bottle in hand. She tries to laugh it off and fills her mouth with water before turning to watch Whitney cook.

She’s cracking eggs into a mixing bowl with one hand now, Brittany always thought that was so cool, but Whitney still looks at her skeptically.

“You nervous about the game today?” She asks.

Brittany has to think. She’s always a little nervous before a game, but those are good nerves and she’s use to those. The feeling inside her now though isn’t something she’s familiar with. She kind of feels suspended, still stuck in this limbo with Santana even though they’ve talked.

If you can even call it that.

Maybe that’s what it is? Nothing feels resolved, none of her questions have been answered. If anything, there’s even more of them! It’s not a good mindset going into the final game of the playoffs. She’s been trying to tell herself that all night, but it hasn’t seemed to work.

She’s hurt and a little disappointed by how everything turned out. She hasn’t liked someone so much before and it’s been so long since she has gotten attached to anyone. It’s hard having to be around Santana now; what is she supposed to do with all the little things she has learned about her? It seems wrong to throw them away, but she doesn’t know what the point is in keeping them.

She’s not gonna need them anyway at this rate, but that also makes her wonder. Was that it for them? A whirlwind two weeks then this? Is that all they are meant to be?

Call it crazy optimism but as much as Brittany wants to throw her hands up and call it quits, she can’t. She’s never been a quitter and this thing that pulls her and Santana together is too strong to ignore. She could barely go a day without speaking to her, let alone the rest of her time in Lima. Maybe she should try again, but that also opens her up to getting hurt a second time.

When she sees Whitney look up at her from the corner of her eye, she realizes she hasn’t answered yet.

“My head’s just full of other things right now,” Brittany admits as she plays with the latch on her water bottle, “It’s hard to concentrate.”

Whitney quirks her brow at that, “What’s going on?”

Brittany only shrugs.

“Boy drama?”

Brittany shakes her head.

“Girl drama?”

Brittany hesitates before shaking her head, “I don’t really want to talk about it yet.”

“Okay,” Whitney nods, “You aren’t in any trouble, right?”

Brittany smiles at that, “No, mom, I’m not in any trouble.”

“I’m just checking,” Whitney chuckles as she cracks the last egg into the bowl. She pauses for a moment before looking to Brittany, “Well kiddo, focus on one thing at a time. You don’t have to go solving all your problems at once, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I know I don’t need to tell you that,” Whitney adds, “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, but everyone needs a little reminder every now and then. Whatever it is, it’ll work out.”

Brittany feels a tiny spark of hope within her and nods, “One thing at a time.”

“Exactly,” Whitney winks, “Now go shower. Check on your brother too, these eggs won’t take long.”

Brittany decides one thing at a time means winning this game before anything else. Football is what she’s good at, it’s where she thrives and now is as good of a time as any to get back to that.

Being apart of the Titans and getting them this far was her first commitment when she came to McKinley and it’s only right that she sees it through.

It’s the last day before Thanksgiving break so a lot the students – and even some of the faculty – have already checked out. With it being a half day, classes are also on a shortened schedule on top of the Pep Rally at the end of the day. Most people are super excited for the game later; everyone’s decked out in their McKinley High spirit gear and the Titans walk around in their home jerseys.

Everyone offers Brittany and the Titans their luck too – everyone except for the Hockey Team. They just stare bitterly from the outskirts of the crowd where they will always stay if they continue to keep a losing record.

Brittany doesn’t pay any attention to them. She just attends her classes as normal and tries to avoid running into Santana for a second day. Thankfully, she has done a pretty good job of doing just that. She doesn’t even look her way in the cafeteria during lunch although she knows Santana’s there. Like always, she can feel her eyes on her but she doesn’t give in – not this time.

It’s always a different story when she gets to her last class of the day.

Ms. Holliday greets Brittany with a knowing smile as the quarterback enters the classroom. The English teacher is dressed in jeans and a McKinley Titans spirit shirt with her hair tied up with a frilly red and white scrunchie.

“Exciting day,” Ms. Holliday says.

Brittany nods, “Definitely.”

“You’re gonna crush it,” She replies with a pat on Brittany’s shoulder before handing her a worksheet.

Brittany heads to her usual seat, a little thankful that Santana isn’t there yet. She’s been anticipating this moment all day, wondering if it’ll be different than the day before.

Yesterday, they didn’t speak. They didn’t even look at each other. They just sat in a long uncomfortable silence until the bell rang and they both could get the hell out of there as fast as they could.

But Brittany feels different about today and she doesn’t know why.

She knows she should be focusing on the game ahead, but she won’t lie and say it’s easy to go another day without talking to Santana. She’s been the best part of her day for awhile now, it feels off to be without her – especially on Game Day.

Brittany shifts into gear as she sees Santana enter the room from the corner of her eye. She looks up and watches the Co-Captain near their table; her books are hugged to her chest but her eyes stay glued to the floor. It’s the same as yesterday and it has Brittany feeling a little deflated.

But it doesn’t last for long.

“Hi,” Santana whispers as she starts to get settled.

Brittany’s eyes widen and she’s so surprised by the unexpected greeting that she almost forgets to return it.

“Hey.”

“How are you today?”

Brittany tilts her head and smiles even though Santana misses it, “Good. Nervous, but good.”

“You don’t have anything to be nervous about,” Santana tells her like it’s fact, “You’ll be great.”

Brittany softens, “Thanks.”

Santana continues to busy herself with getting her materials out while Brittany patiently waits to see if something more will happen, but nothing does.

It’s another class of sitting in silence, but it feels different this time. It’s not as heavy as it felt yesterday and Brittany’s grateful for that. Really, Brittany just feels a little relieved as she watches Santana get dismissed early for the Pep Rally.

“I’ll see you later,” Santana says and it’s another surprise, “Good luck if I don’t.”

Brittany only smiles, “Thanks.”

The Pep Rally comes and goes and now it’s just a countdown until showtime. Brittany does everything she normally would in preparation for a game and even heads to the locker room early to get ready.

It’s different without Santana there, but it’s for the best.

The Titans need her all because this kind of game is about all or nothing. With a loss, that’s it for them. Their season’s over and for a lot of Seniors on the team, this is it. This is potentially the last game they ever play in their high school career and Brittany can’t have that on her conscience if she doesn’t give it her all.

She gets dressed to the sounds of her Game Day playlist which never fails to get her in the mood to kick some ass. With having the whole locker room to herself, it’s easy to get lost in the music as she continues to get ready. She makes sure she grabs her lucky towel and tucks it into the waistband of her pants before sliding on her left glove.

All that’s left now is a bit of eye black and her helmet before she’s ready to go.

When she and the Titans take to the field for the first time, the feeling is like no other. The crowd is a sea of red and white and it’s the loudest it has ever been. The team rips through the banner and pulses with unwavering determination.

They’re hungry for a win and they’ll take down anyone in their path.

Brittany can feel the roar of the spectators in her chest and pumps her fist in the air as she admires the packed stands. It’s one of the coldest nights so far in November but she feels warm beneath the stadium lights. She knows it won’t last long though and keeps her hands tucked in her handwarmer pouch as she makes her way to the Titans sidelines.

It’s kind of inevitable that she sees Santana and the Cheerios there too.

They’re facing the crowd and waving their pompoms as they call out cheers to get the crowd even more pumped. Santana and Quinn are front and center and Brittany can’t help but steal a glance in the brunette’s direction. It’s only a quick one – enough to catch the brilliant smile she wears – before players interrupt her view.

“Pierce!” Coach Beiste calls out, “Coin Toss.”

Brittany nods and jogs out onto the field with Mike and Matt to meet the referee and the Team Captain from Crawford County Day along with their two elected players. They shake hands and introduce themselves first before the Ref goes over their usual speech about sportsmanship.

Everyone agrees to do their part in keeping the game fair before the Ref asks the visiting team whether they want heads or tails.

“Heads,” The Team Captain calls out.

The Ref tosses the coin in the air.

Everyone watches it spin several times before it lands to the turf. They look to the ground and the Ref bends to call out the outcome.

“Tails!” He says before gesturing to the Titans, “Titans it is your call.”

“Defer,” Brittany replies, trying to keep the smirk from showing. Winning the toss is kind of like a good omen, but she’s not counting her lucky ducks just yet.

The Ref nods and announces the Titans’ decision before the players leave the field.

Crawford County Day’s special teams comes out and the Titans’ special teams does the same. Brittany hangs back by Coach Beiste as they watch Kurt kick the ball away, signaling the official start of the game.

They hadn’t played Crawford County since the early weeks of the season, back when Brittany was still working on her relationship with the team. It was a rough start back then, but the Titans were able to secure a win in the end. They’re in a much better place than they were so Brittany’s excited to see what this game offers.

Crawford County ends up being an even better competitor than Brittany thought.

It seems like the Titans weren’t the only ones working on their rhythm and communication since their last matchup. The Titans trail Crawford County by two touchdowns. It’s like every time they score, Brittany and the Titans aren’t that far behind with one of their own.

However, the Titans were shut down in their last drive and came up without any points.

It’s an offense-led game, but Brittany doesn’t like the idea of playing catch up all night. Not when there’s a Championship Game on the line. She wants to get into a better position going into the half because she knows they’ll be getting the ball afterwards. By then, she hopes it’ll be a blow out once again but she can only judge it one play at a time.

There’s still 6 minutes left in the first half which is a lot of time depending on what you can do with it, especially when you’ve got the ball – and right now, the Titans don’t. If Crawford County was smart, they’d waste as much time as possible so the Titans won’t have much to work with by the time they receive the ball again.

Judging by the current situation, Brittany thinks that’s exactly what they’re going to do.

“Shit,” Brittany mutters as she waits anxiously on the sidelines. She can faintly hear the Cheerios cheering and it makes her want to look over. She’s been doing well so far, why mess that up now?

Brittany doesn’t have a reason. She just looks over instead like it’s second nature.

And like always, Santana’s already looking back at her.

It’s cliché to say, but she steals Brittany’s breath away. She’s waving her pompoms and going through the motions, but her pretty brown eyes never leave Brittany’s.

There’s a hint of a smile on Santana’s lips, it’s barely there but Brittany knows it all too well. She knows all kinds of Santana’s smiles but this is the one she doesn’t see very often. The last time she saw it was the Homecoming bonfire. She can’t remember what they were talking about, but she definitely remembers the way Santana looked at her that night.

It has Brittany smiling back and for a moment it feels like it’s just them on the field. It makes her happy just as much as it makes her sad, because they could’ve been so great together.

“Damnit!” Coach Beiste curses when Crawford County gets another first down.

It jolts Brittany out of her staring contest with Santana and forces her head back into the game.

They need a miracle because at this rate, the Titans are going to be down by three coming out of the half. That’s not the worst scenario possible, but Brittany doesn’t need them getting ahead anymore than they already are.

She watches the ball get snapped and the opposing team’s QB drops back. He searches for a target and launches the ball downfield, but something miraculous happens – a Titan defender catches it.

The crowd goes crazy and the sidelines are even rowdier as Matt takes off with the intercepted ball. He zips through the other players until he’s ultimately dragged down by their quarterback of all people. They’re in great field position now and Brittany can’t be any happier.

“Do something with this, Pierce,” Coach Beiste tells her with a hard pat on her back.

“Yes Coach,” Brittany replies before tugging on her helmet and getting back out there.

The Titans are able to score once more before the half is called thanks to Matt’s interception. They leave the field in high spirits despite still being behind on the scoreboard by a single touchdown.

Well, most of the team is in high spirits.

“I don’t know why we can’t run the ball more!” Karofsky complains, “Lady Lips can’t catch for sh–“

“Hey!” Sam snaps.

“What?” Karofsky flinches at him, “It’s true.”

“It’s not.”

“You’re right,” Karofsky frowns as he turns to Brittany, “I thought you said you were taking us to the Championship?”

“You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink,” Brittany replies coolly.

“Did you just call me a damn horse?”

Brittany shakes her head, “I’m saying this is a team effort. I can only do so much. It helps no one by tearing each other down.”

“Your head is in the clouds and we can all see it,” Azimio says.

Brittany’s stunned, “What?”

“You’re distracted,” Karofsky answers, “You’ve been like that for awhile.”

“Shit, I would be too if I was hooking up with Lopez on the low,” Azimio mutters beneath his breath.

That puts Brittany over the edge and she’s rounding on him before she realizes it.

“You don’t know anything!” Brittany shoves at him so hard that he nearly falls off the bench. The amount of strength behind the shove shocks everyone because Azimio isn’t a small guy.

“Yo! Chill out!” Azimio pushes her away.

“Talk about her one more time,” Brittany shoves at his hands as Mike starts to pull her back, “I dare you. Talk about her one more time.”

“He was just talking shit,” Karofsky defends with a smirk, “But looks like he might be on to something.”

“That’s enough,” Coach Beiste says before looking warily at Brittany, “Easy, Pierce. Whatever that is, deal with it later.”

Brittany regains her composure while Azimio and Karofsky do the same.

“I give everything to this team,” Brittany states, “I put in extra time on the field. I show up early, I’m the last one to leave. Who else here takes that kind of initiative? I can’t do everything!”

Karofsky waves her off but that just makes Sam even more annoyed.

“You’re such an ass,” Sam tells him, “You’ve been holding up this team’s progress since Britt got here. Who knows if you really want to win this thing.”

“What are you yapping about now, Evans?” Karofsky rolls his eyes.

“You don’t put in the work!” Sam says, “Britt would’ve thrown at least three TD passes by now if she had more time in the pocket but you’re so crap at blocking!”

“What?” Karofsky scoffs, “Let’s count how many times she’s been sacked this game. Oh wait, you can’t because she hasn’t!”

“That’s not because of you!” Sam replies, “She’s slippery, she gets out on her own no thanks to you.”

“What about knockdowns?” Kurt asks, “There’s been a few of those.”

Sam nods, “Yeah, that too!”

“Maybe you just need to be faster?” Azimio cuts in, “All that Bieber hair is probably weighing you down.”

Brittany lets out a sigh as they all start to argue. One thing she hates about being on a team full of guys, their arguments are usually ridiculous and pointless.

“That’s stupid,” Sam grumbles as he fixes his shaggy hair, “Britt needs better protection from both of you. We can’t get downfield because you – “

“We’re doing our job!” Karofsky yells.

“Bullshit,” Puck grumbles, “We have to rely on the passing game because neither of you can create a gap in their D. I’ve been getting snuffed out all night!”

“That’s definitely not on me,” Azimio brushes off, “You couldn’t get yardage if you were the only one on the damn field!”

“The hell you say to me?” Puck snaps and lunges at Azimio.

“Hey!” Coach Beiste booms, “How about focusing on your own roles, huh? If anyone’s going to call out what’s going wrong with this team right now, it’s me. I’m the one coaching this team, not you so cut it out.”

Everyone quiets down but Karofsky continues to stew in his annoyance. It’s nothing new to Brittany, as soon as they’re down – no matter the amount they’re behind – Karofsky and Azimio never fail to complain. Instead of taking ownership, they point the finger at anyone else in the room and Brittany hates that.

“I don’t want to hear anymore of you blaming one another. Each and every one of you are responsible for the outcome of this game,” Coach says, “No one is above or below anyone. You share this load so you better be doing your part. If one of you fails, everyone does. You hear me?”

“Yes Coach,” The team says in unison.

“We might be behind right now, but we’re gaining on them,” Beiste says, “This team is in much better shape and they’re getting worn out. Keep at it and we’ll come out of this on top. You all know what to do, you’ve proved it time and time again. Stay focused. Just keep going, keep putting that pressure on them.”

Brittany inhales a calming breath. She’s done a good job of staying calm and cool under the pressure, she’s done a good job of not telling Azimio and Karofsky’s crap get to her, she can’t stop now. They’re so close to a victory, she can taste it.

Coach Beiste eyes everyone, her gaze steely with her fists resting on her hips. She looks larger than life in front of them, “This is your moment, Titans, take it!”

The Titans take to the field once more after halftime and Brittany remains optimistic about their situation. They’ll be starting the second half by receiving the ball, so it’s the perfect opportunity to tie things up. She tries to forget about the arguing and Karofsky and Azimio’s claims about Santana and get her head back in the game.

The Titans end up on thin ice after their opening drive of the third quarter is a bust.

Brittany was really banking on it to tie the score but Crawford County’s pass rush is too intense. She’s starting to see her O-Line getting worn down despite everyone thinking it would be Crawford County whose fatigue would start to show by now.

It’s been scoreless on both sides as the game clock continues to eat up the third quarter. The Titans are still a TD away from tying things up and Brittany really wants that to happen before they enter the fourth quarter.

They need a big play to get a new set of downs but like Puck said in the half, he’s been getting shut down all night. The first down is only a couple yards away and a running play would be perfect but it might as well be a mile against the re-energized defense.

They need something Crawford County wouldn’t expect, something sneaky.

So in the huddle, Brittany calls the play despite Coach’s detest. It was all or nothing, and this would be just enough to get momentum going again. They need a spark, something that would breathe life back into this team after the morale has been slowly chipped away.

This was the only way she knew how to do that.

“Peek-a-boo,” Brittany says and looks everyone in the eye to make sure they’re with her.

Her teammates look surprised but they nod.

“Alright,” Brittany nodded resolutely, “Titans on three. One…two…three!”

“Titans!” They yelled out in unison with a clap before getting back to the line of scrimmage.

Her heart was racing but this is exactly what she loves about the game. It’s all about the adrenaline and making every play count. She can do this.

Puck gets into position beside Brittany as she readies herself for the snap. Her eyes stay searching the defense for any movement, always scanning.

“Down…hut,” She says lowly. She watches her inflection and thanks her lucky stars that no one on her O-Line flinches, “Down…hut.”

Again, her O-Line are statues. She was hoping she could draw an offsides from the opposing team, but they don’t move either. She stomps her left foot and Puck changes positions, “Down…HUT!”

The ball is snapped perfectly and she quickly fakes the handoff to Puck before he charges to the left. Brittany watches the mob of players move along with him before she’s tucking the ball and taking off in the opposite direction. She just needs a few yards to get the first down and she runs like hell towards it.

She can see in her peripheral that Crawford County’s safety and corner have started to gain on her. Her feet move faster and she jolts her arm out in a stiff arm that connects with one of the players.

The corner tumbles to the ground but there’s still one more Brittany has to worry about. The safety wraps gives her a hard shove but she outstretches the ball in hopes that she can still land the first down before she falls out of bounds.

Brittany hits the turf hard and the ball pops out but she can hear the Ref’s whistle blowing. She glances up in time to see him signal the first down and suddenly her shoulder doesn’t hurt all that bad.

She hops up from the ground as her teammates rush her, but even in the swarm of red and white jerseys Brittany finds herself glancing to the sidelines where Santana looks visibly relieved. Her pompoms are clutched to her chest but when she sees that Brittany is okay, Santana narrows her eyes almost as if to say don’t do that again.

Even if things are weird between them right now, it’s still nice to know Santana worries about her. Brittany smirks though at the chastising look and mouths an apologetic, “I’m sorry.”

But Brittany isn’t, not really. The smile she wears after making an incredible play can probably be seen from space, but they’re not done yet.

“Hell yeah!” Puck shouts excitedly as he slaps Brittany’s on the helmet, “That was so awesome!”

“Let’s do something with this,” Brittany says as determined as ever before getting her team back to their new line of scrimmage. She calls the next play but she wants to keep this momentum going and calls out, “Hurry! Hurry!”

Mike and Sam are set up with Matt on the opposite side. Puck’s next to her again to offer extra coverage as the ball is snapped. She drops back and searches for an open receiver but the linebackers are quickly closing in. The more time she sits in the pocket, the bigger chance she has of someone on her team getting penalized for holding. She has to act now!

Suddenly Matt gets open and Brittany fires the ball into his open hands. It’s like a laser beam but he makes the catch and brings it into his chest before getting tackled to the turf. It was a nice grab for a good chunk of yardage, another first down.

“Let’s go!” Mike cheers as everyone gets back into position.

The clock continues to tick away but they’re in way better field position now, Brittany has to make something of it. The endzone is right there, if she can’t get a strike she’s going to be really disappointed in herself.

In the huddle, she calls a play that’s well-practiced amongst the receivers but the challenge is whether or not her receivers can put enough distance between them and their defenders. A pass like this could be easily picked off and if it does, that’ll be a big blow to the Titans’ morale.

“Down…” Brittany calls out as she readies for the snap, “Down, HUT!”

Similar to the play before, her receivers take off but instead of running up field they make quick slants in different directions. Brittany looks for the most promising target and fires towards them. This time it’s Mike and he leaps into the air to make the catch. The ball continues to stay secured in his arms as he drops back to the turf and heads for the endzone.

Brittany watches it all happen in slow motion. One step, two step, three step, SCORE!

The stands erupt in applause while the team celebrates. Brittany rushes down to join them and for the first time all quarter, she feels like she can recognize her team again. They head to their sidelines as the special team is brought out for the extra point.

While everyone watches and waits to see what Kurt can do, Brittany’s glancing to Santana again. At first, she’s looking at the kicking team too but then she turns to Brittany almost as if she could feel her watching.

Santana quirks her brow and tilts her head toward the field but Brittany keeps staring. Maybe that hit earlier has knocked a couple screw loose but Brittany can’t find it in her to look away. She’s been depriving herself for the past two days now and in this moment, while she’s surrounded by her teammates and she’s meant to be tuned into the game, she just wants to look at Santana.

And she knows she shouldn’t want to go over there and kiss her either, but she can’t help what her heart wants.

The crowd cheering again after Kurt’s kick is good is the only thing that breaks Brittany’s concentration. The Titans have now tied with Crawford County and there’s still a whole quarter left in the game. Everyone looks revived and Brittany has such a good feeling about what’s coming next once they get the ball back.

Halfway through the fourth quarter, the Titans lead by a field goal and they’re already closing in on another TD but again Crawford County’s D isn’t letting that happen so easily. They’re on third down and short but Karofsky’s already started up with his bullshit again after another pass was batted to the ground.

“I knew you’d choke,” Karofsky scolds after Brittany calls a timeout, “What the hell was that?”

Brittany shakes her head but continues to keep her cool, “It looked like they got the jump on you. Maybe you need to keep a better eye on your man.”

“I had my eye on him!”

Puck laughs, “I bet you did.”

Karofsky shoves at him and Puck shoves back. Matt quickly gets in between them and pushes them apart.

“You’re blowing this for us,” Karofsky claims as he glares at Brittany, “You were just all talk! Now that you’re here, you’re choking.”

Brittany frowns. She knows he’s just taking out his frustrations on her because she’s the leader of this team, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. She doesn’t usually believe a thing he says, but the more he runs his mouth the less she starts to believe in herself.

Is she blowing this for them? Should she be doing more? What more could she possibly do?

“How about you take some ownership?” Brittany says instead, “As soon as something doesn’t go our way, it’s my fault. Well, what about you? What are you doing to make this team work? What’s your contribution?”

“This is bullshit,” Karofsky growls as he takes a step closer to her.

Brittany doesn’t waver, “Yeah. It is.”

She just keeps her chin held high and her fists tight by her sides. She could go off right about now, unleash all the pent up feelings she has about him and his shitty attitude and the comments he’s made about Santana.

She could do it, but she won’t. For the sake of this team and for Santana, she won’t. She’s better than him and she can’t stoop to his level no matter how bad she wants to.

“It’s not her fault you’re outmatched,” Sam replies as he pushes Karofsky back to his side of the huddle.

“I’m getting tired of you always defending in her!” Azimio snaps.

“We’re a team, that’s what we do! We have each other’s back.”

Karofsky just shakes his head before Brittany takes back the huddle. She calls her next play and tries to rally a bit of support but she can see her O-Line is tired and it doesn’t help that Karofsky keeps making things negative.

“Let’s just focus here,” Brittany tells them, “One thing at a time.”

So Brittany and most of the Titans do just that.

It’s one play at a time, one touchdown, one win. That’s all they need to do to come out of this on top.

Brittany sets up another play action and has Puck get into position next to her. The ball is snapped and she fakes it to Puck but #87 for Crawford County is in her face in an instant. It happens a lot quicker than it usually does so she has to scramble. She tries to duck and dodge him while looking for someone to offload the ball, but then she’s blindsided by #99 coming in from the opposite side.

She’s hit hard once again and drops to the ground with two defenders wrapped around her. Miraculously, Brittany was able to hang onto the ball during that sack but she’s slow to get up.

Actually, she’s slow to even move.

#Lost in the Lights #Brittana #brittana fanfiction #fanfics

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starcrossedyanderes · 4 years ago

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Beauty and The Birds Part 9

Warning: This chapter contains former abuse from parents, religion (mostly cult-ish stuff), mentions of ‘The Catholic Church’, and supposed witchcraft. A long with general harm of a person because of them being different. If any of this effects you I recommend possibly not reading this. If you are facing any of the above (except for maybe supposed witch craft) you can access this website for help https://www.thehotline.org/ this is the domestic violence hotline and are generally good for a lot of situations.

Disclaimer: I, as always, do not condone this behavior in any sense. A made up sort of cult-like religion is brought up that tries to hide itself as The Catholic Church. I have absolutely nothing against the catholic church as I am personally a protestant (but of course you know how us protestants feel) and I have nothing against what people believe in as long as no one gets hurt. This is based off of the sad incidents of exorcisms and how the are most commonly performed on regular children and how they quickly turn violent. Please, this is never acceptable. You should never be harmed by your religion or because of your religion.

~Previously on Beauty and The Birds~

“Isn’t that cannibalism?”

“Doggo!”

“Sheepies!”

“No. Other birds. I don’t think there’s another like me.”

~Back to Beauty and The Birds~

“It’s a uh.. long story that I haven’t shared with anyone. As you can tell I’m not exactly the best at communicating-“

He physically backed into himself with a blush on his cheeks and a hand rubbing his neck. You physically drooped as you started to walk away.

“Okay, I guess you don’t want to tell me-“

“NO!”

At seemingly the speed of light and a large ‘whoosh’ the bird man appeared right in front of you with his hands spread.

He had this deranged look on his face that seemed to become more and more common as the days passed.

He stepped closer to you with a shaky crazed smile on his face.

“No, no! I’ll tell you! I would tell you anything.”

He placed his hands on your shoulders to pull you in closer as his smile only widened.

“I would do anything for you. You just have to ask and I would tell you whatever you could possibly want to know. As long as you stay so couldn’t care less. It’s all worth it.”

Hm, he seems to show a lot of territorial behavior and desperation. Could this be part of a courtship sort of thing. He seems to be quite attached for only knowing you for what? 2 days? You’ll have to look into that later.

His smile and piercing gaze finally softened as he seemed to return to his normal self.

“I will admit this is a rough topic for me so I would rather if we could instead talk in the nest.”

You eagerly nodded your head as you gripped your discreet recording device as you were flown up to the top floor’s glass observatory.

It seems the nest acts as a comfort sort of place for him. Somewhat how some animals do during heats and pregnancy’s. From what you can tell he isn’t in a heat (although it could explain some things) and he certainly isn’t pregnant so it is quite odd behavior for a bird to exhibit.

~|~

You were currently perched inside the nest as you awaited on Avery’s return. He, to your annoyance, insisted on getting a few snacks

You irritably clutched on a corviknight plushie you found in the nest before it was quickly abandoned on Avery’s return.

In his hands he carried various junk foods but there was an odd one that stood out from the rest.

Tater tots.

After putting down the foods on a little side table he quickly joined you in the Blanket Void TM and quickly into you. His wings wrapped around and whilst spreading sent a turtle duck plushie off of the bed. He quickly let out some gentle cooing as he nuzzled deeply into your neck.

“I’m ready to answer your questions now.”

“Alright, how about an easier question to start off. What’s with the tater tots?”

Of course this question was just a ruse to make sure your device was recording and genuine curiosity.

Avery’s head pulled away from your neck and a frown pulled at his lips. He then proceeded in what you like to call his ‘bby voice’

“Is there something wrong with them? They’re my favorite.”

That-that was not the answer you were expecting. Huh, that’s odd.

“Oh, nothing. Just genuine curiosity.”

Avery immediately relaxed back into your arms after popping a tater tot into his mouth.

“Now, you say you don’t think there’s anyone else like you. Is it because you believe to be the last of your species?”

He stiffened up once again before digging himself more into you.

“Well no, I think. I don’t believe I am part of a species. This may take a while to explain and please bare with me. This is a rough topic that I haven’t really been able to share with anyone.”

You eagerly nodded your head and made sure to give him some headpats which only induced some coos to leave his throat.

“Well my family were rather wealthy and owned an airplane company and I think we did general logistics stuff. We were also rather catholic although now I think we don’t quite fit that term. At least hope not for the sake of people who are actually catholic.

My mother was the heiress and received a lot of suitors. She was supposedly cursed by one of her suitor’s mother after turning him down. We think this may have led to me.. being me.”

You felt rather disheartened but also even more intrigued by this information. So he doesn’t seem to be part of a species, but an odd mutation? (You highly doubted this is from some curse.)

“So where exactly is your family now”

After speaking you popped a tator tot into your mouth.

“I think about 5 years ago my parents, ironically enough, died in a plane crash. I was pretty much only allowed on the estate, the woods, and the church after my wings developed so I wasn’t allowed with them. That was probably a mistake on their parts.”

You waved your arms a bit.

“Hold up, you siad you weren’t allowed anywhere after your wings developed. Does that mean you weren’t born with them.”

Avery let out a reflexive chuckle.

“Ha ha, well I technically was born with them. I was a healthy baby but I had these bumps on my back. Of course everyone was concerned about these being tumors so I was tested frequently. Turns out they were merely bone and somewhat.. hollow. As I grew the bumps started grow into my wings today. The bone thing is also why I take a good bit of calcium since they’re so fragile.”

“But why weren’t you let anywhere after they developed?”

Avery let out a sigh as he mentally prepared himself.

“After the doctors kinda figured out I was somehow growing wings paired with my purple eyes my parents were very excited for me to be an angel like thing. Yeah, I don’t know their understanding either. Maybe consider me as a miracle of the lord of something? Either way they were rather hopeful of this and treated me like a regular son with giving me an education to run the business. But then I got my feathers. Their dreams of an angel were crushed upon seeing that were not pure white but instead a dark black. They became horrified and I was forced to spend a lot of time at the church and was forced to have exorcism after exorcism performed on me. It.. wasn’t pleasant to say the least. My parents quickly hated me and locked me away. But they still needed an heir and they feared to have another child so I was still given an education as I sometimes needed to appear to confirm that they were nice enough to keep me alive.”

You felt some water cascade down your neck as you could place your arms around him in a hug.

“A-Avery that’s awful. I-I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

Avery gained a small smile as he pulled away from you hug with tears still gliding down his face.

“Y-You’re the first person to every say sorry to me.”

“Oh, Avery. No one should be deprived of that.”

You forced a small grin on your face to try and cheer him up.

“Ok, no more hardcore questions. Stuff that shouldn’t make you cry now. Sorry to open those wounds like that.”

“No, no. It’s fine. I said I would tell you anything. And I’m honestly over joyed to share anything with you.”

How can someone say something so creepy yet sat at the same time? “Alright then, if you’re sure you want to continue. You’re able to communicate with birds from what I can tell. Do they see you as they’re leader or something?”

“Since I was only really allowed in the woods birds quickly became my only friends and company. Also I’ve done a lot of rehabilitation work that a lot seem to feel indebted to me. A lot of birds tend to follow the bigger bird naturally and they see me as a really big bird so they just kinda.. naturally do what I tell them. It also helps that I feed them too.”

“Makes sense, I guess. Like when I saw this heron in a pond one time and a bunch of ducks just followed him around. Last question for the day, alright?”

Avery nodded his head as he pulled you closer.

“I brought like 3 scarves here but I can’t find any of them. I have a slight feeling you may know where they are.”

Of course you couldn’t see it but a dark blush covered Avery’s face.

“W-well two of them are in the nest. I’m afraid that some of the birds got their hands on the other one somehow and are currently using it to snuggle. I’m working on getting them another scarf so you can get yours back.”

Huh, so he puts many different things in his nest. Also now you had to deal with the conflict of you taking a scarf from some cozy, snuggling birds.

“The birds can keep my scarf. I couldn’t just take it from them like that.”

Avery smiled against your neck and cooed.

“I’m sure they’ll be estatic for their cuddling not to be ruined. Now enough questions, more cuddles and movies.”

#yandere #starcrossedyanderes #romance #original character #yandere romance #yandere male #yandere oc #beauty and the birds #avery #birb

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