Greta Van Fleet Imagines

spy-sfk

This was originally much longer but I decided to split it into three shorter parts to make it easier to read. Again, this was originally a Marvel O.C. miniseries but I never posted it, so I changed it into this hot mess. This was inspired by Natasha Romanoff's story. I think I did a good job explaining her history, but you can look it up if you'd like.

Word Count: 2940

Ever since you moved to Frankenmuth in the summer between middle and high school, Sam had been your best friend. Your living situation wasn't ideal, but his was warm and welcoming. You'd always been taught to be weary of people, as one never knows someone else's true intentions. You followed that rule for much of your life. Up until you met the rest of his family. The Kiszka family was so kind that it was nearly impossible to not love each of them.

There had been a few times when Sam suspected something about you. The close calls were beginning to come more often, leading him to draw conclusions.

One time was when Brandon Marlin, the tallest boy in the ninth grade, took Sam's journal and threatened to read the poem he had written in there. Sam still hadn't hit a growth spurt yet and was about to start jumping to get his notebook back. To save him from years of torment from classmates, you pinched a pressure point, knocking Brandon unconscious in the middle of lunch. The room went silent as you plucked the notebook from his limp hands and placed it neatly on Sam's freshman stack.

Another time was when Tony Larson challenged Sam to a pull up contest in gym. Sam had written a check he couldn't cash as he couldn't to more than three pull ups to save his life. Coming to his rescue, you picked on and snarked at Tony until he turned his aggression towards you. He was on the verge of beating you into a pulp until you challenged his manhood. Using the years upon years of practice, you beat Tony in the competition, shattering the school record of 64 pull ups and his ego in the process.

There had also been other instances where someone would throw something during lunch, like an apple, and you'd catch it before it could hit someone. Or the times when your instincts would tell you to move, and someone would come running around the corner.

Sam always wondered where these moments came from. You explained that it was from a book of your life that has been long destroyed; ripped, shredded, and tossed into a fire. You refused to talk about where you came from. All of it was before and you wanted to live in the present. Another hard lesson you learned was that loose ends will always unravel, leaving you clawing at the rocks on the side of the mountain when you had a perfectly stable rope just a minute ago.

The first time the man appeared was before school one morning when you were 15. You met Sam at the bus stop. He was telling you about how much he hated the fact that his brothers would leave earlier some days, forcing him to ride the bus to get to school. You feigned offense as you rode the bus every morning after a twenty-five-minute walk from your home in the middle of the woods. You felt a presence on the other side of you, an odd occurrence for seven in the morning in a residential area. You turned to look at him clearly, face paling in an instant.

"Y/N," the man grumbled, gripping your wrist tightly. A chill ran up your spine. Despite knowing how to flip and disable a man in seconds, you never thought you'd have to do it in Michigan, much less in front of your best friend.

Sam tried to wedge himself between the two of you, but instead the man shoved him off. You stared into his eyes, trying to remember where you'd seen him. He had heterochromia, except instead of natural colors, one was gray, and the other iris was bright red. You yanked your wrist back, realizing exactly who he was. Instead, a car honked, drawing your attention away. The bus pulled up at the same time, sending a mist of water your way. When you and Sam looked back, the man was gone.