#my overactive brain needs a break

[queers-gambit]

Tell Me Every Terrible Thing [ part one of two ]

part two: And Let Me Love You Anyway

prompt: you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!Hightower!reader -> hair color specified reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.6k+

note: what the fuck is this, Cherry? also two parts 'cause author gets carried away!

warnings: show spoilers, cursing, author has small bouts of feministic ideas, author also really likes the "little birds" storyline (let her live!), wonky brain is wonky, i think hurt and comfort, angst, very mild NSFW (brief female receiving oral), technically alternative timeline 'cause this goofy-ass author has an overactive imagination, #icanmakehimworse, another reader insert (this warning is for the fucking losers in my inbox).

"How angry do you think he'll be with me?"

You offered your best friend, The Realm's Delight, Crowned Heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra, a unamused, stale look. Sarcastically, you replied, "Oh, come now, Nyrie, why would your father be angry? It couldn't be because you rejected every suitor His Grace put before you, or even how you abruptly ended the tour with two months remaining. What father would be angry after that?"

She groaned, "I know, I know, you don't have to be so right all the bloody time. I just... I couldn't do it anymore, you saw what it was like," her head bowed and you knew the girl was truly overwhelmed by her 'job' picking a suitor.

"This was no easy feat to arrange, Princess," you spoke diplomatically, aware of the ship's crew dotting around the royal ship. "Our fathers went through much difficulty to ensure this tour's success, Princess, and I'd imagine neither will be thrilled by our early arrival."

"But it's just - "

"I know," you soothed with a knowing, sympathetic smile. Your arm extended around her, her head dropping to your shoulder for comfort. "In an ideal world, women would have a real say in their futures. Perhaps, that is what you're meant to do, Nyrie... Perhaps you're meant to break this wheel, give the other half of humanity a fighting chance against the men who have long suppressed us. Being heir is a monumental stereotype to shatter, but most women are not born into royalty and have nobody protecting or defending them."

She picked her head up to stare at you for a single moment, then nodded slowly, "That's a lot of pressure."

"Less if you pick a respectable man to help you lead," you advised softly, reaching to caress her cheek briefly. "You're to be Queen, Nyra, which means you need a King Consort that the common folk will respect, who will play his part in the courts to come. I know it's not ideal, my friend, but it's not meant to be - it's meant to be strategic." You paused, adding, "Similar to Ali marrying your father, yes? That was a strategic move on my father's end. Now it's up to you to chose your own match, to plot your own strategy."

"Who would you see me marry?"

"In truth? I'm unsure if anyone would fit the bill perfectly, so, I don't know who I could see you with. Definitely someone smart, though."

She only hummed, sighing deeply and making you frown. Before another word could be said, there came a distant screech that sounded all too familiar - though you refused to let it show that you knew this particular dragon's sound.

Nyra moved away from the ship's railing to stare longingly up into the sky, and about a minute later, without visible sight of any threat, Ser Criston Cole was shouting, "Take cover!"

And then, like a bird swooping to snatch a fish, a crimson dragon descended from the cover of clouds - seemingly materializing from nowhere. The large, long, slithery beast with wings knocked into the ship's main mast; jolting everyone on board enough to topple over.

You tried to stabilize the Princess, but you lost balance and dropped to your knees as Cole rushed to help Rhaenyra to her feet. When able, you looked to the sky; grinning to yourself as you recognized the retreating Blood Wyrm. Seeing the distinct form of Caraxes made you giddy with anticipation, however, that was short lived as you clocked Rhaenyra's gaze of awe and wonder.

It seems she was excited for her uncle's return, too. Though, it won't be till later that you learn the extent of her adoration.

Less than an hour later, the ship was docking and you escorted Princess Rhaenyra from aboard; her guards surrounding you both as you trekked to the Red Keep. "Just... Perhaps try to stay invisible," you advised your friend, arm-in-arm. "The King won't be pleased if you interrupt court, even just by being there. With luck, we won't be noticed."

She agreed softly, continuing on. She started fiddling with her necklace, the piece of Valyrian Steel jewelry that her uncle, Daemon, had gifted her years ago before Queen Aemma passed away. Your lover had told you the Princess was owed a piece of her Valyrian history, and since he could not gift a sword to a young lady, the necklace was chosen, crafted, and gifted.

When you returned to the Red Keep, it was just in time for court to be called to session and your friend was all too eager to join. "Nyra," you warned, hand in hers.

"It's all right," she assured, "come, it must be Daemon - "

"No, I should return to my chamber. Don't piss your father off too much," you warned her with a smirk, watching her grin in response, squeeze your hand, and then file into the Throne Room with the other members of court.

You retreated to your old room, sighing in relief when you discovered nothing was disturbed. "My Lady!" A voice gasped at the open door. You glanced over, smiling at Milah, your usual handmaiden, and opening your arms when she rushed forward. "You're not supposed to be back yet! Oh!" She tutted, looking you over. "I'll get your bed made and - "

"No, it's fine - "

"Nonsense, let me do this," she insisted, already busying around the room. "I was wondering why they were bringing things into the foyer - must be all the Princess' luggage, hmm?"

"Yeah," you sighed, helping her strip the bed and change the sheets. "It was strange," you admitted, "the men, I mean, and the way they all competed for her hand in marriage."

"Did you expect anything else?"

"I did not think they'd honestly kill one another. Though it was more so their pride than the Princess they fought over."

Milah smirked, "Sounds about right. Well, what of you? Anyone catch your eye?"

"Of course not," you sighed a little sadly.

"Still hung on the Prince, aren't you, my Lady?"

"Perhaps," you mused.

You spent the better part of an hour gossiping with Milah before she had to go grab a few things, but promised she'd send your belongings up as soon as possible. You thanked her, walked her out, assuring you were just going to get a bath or something, and just as you shut and locked your chamber door, gasped when a pair of hands seized your waist.

"Daemon!" You hissed when you saw the short, white locks of your surprise guest. "The bloody fuck is wrong with you?" You demanded, turning in his grip to shove your hands into his chest. "What're you doing here? Want to get us caught?"

"Three years," he grit, gathering you in his arms to heave upward and force your legs around his waist if you wanted to keep balance, "three fucking years I've been gone - away - missing you, do not deprive me a moment more."

"Someone will come looking," you whispered, caressing his face as your forehead met his. "And perhaps I want a moment to just look at you, 's been years," you breathed. "You cut your hair," you commented, running your hands through the short strands.

"I cut my hair," he agreed softly, just holding you close and tight.

"I like it... But I'll miss braiding it."

"I will, too," he admitted. He nuzzled closer, inhaling your neck sharply, boldly licking a flat tongue up your pulse point to make you shudder lightly.

"Daemon," you whispered, pulling his head back so you could look in his eyes, beaming, "I missed you, too."

"Viserys is arranging a lunch for my return," he informed, turning so he could approach your newly-made four-poster bed; dropping you flat on your back with a grin. "Which roughly translates into only allotting a few minutes to make up for lost time."

"We will have time later - "

"I overheard Viserys saying he and Otto intend to take evening tea with you regarding the Princess' return from tour," he eased, reaching to spread your legs, bunching your skirts. "But I will call upon you tomorrow? Yes? Officially?"

"If you insist," you teased, letting him finally descend to smash his lips against yours. In truth, you were used to his empty promises of 'calling on you officially' because of his marriage to Lady Royce, but it was his way of telling you without words that he wished it was you instead of Rhea.

Daemon groaned, melting into your form; breathing heavily. "I've missed you past words," he whispered, nuzzling your nose with his. "But for now, I just need a taste - "

"We don't have time - "

"We'll be fast. Tell me, love," he nipped your pouting lips, soothing his tongue over the puckered skin, "have you taken another in my absence?"

"Of course not," you hissed in offense.

"Good," he nodded, kissing you sweetly.

"Need I ask?"

"There were no concubines," he mused, "though, they were offered, I did not accept. So, we'll be quick - faster than quick," he promised, pawing at your undergarments and exposing your dampening cunt to his sight. "I'll take my time with you later, but for now, I need this," he all but seethed before diving tongue-first into your core.

His spit mixed with your arousal, creating a slippery mess.

"Shit," you hissed, grabbing his shorter hair as his tongue flattened to lap at your entrance, dripping in your essence. One of his hands held your thighs apart for his access, the other releasing his cock from the pair of breeches he wore. Daemon groaned at the taste of you, lapping wildly like a man starved, and stroking his bare cock in rhythm with his ministrations.

It truly took no time at all once he found your clit and sucked mercilessly, the hand holding your thighs now extended up to paw roughly at your tits. Alternating his tongue around your sloppy cunt added to your heightening pleasure, swirling his tongue as he bobbed and shook his head - making an absolute mess, and causing your climax to shatter your mind and soul.

Your legs twitched, spine curled, stomach contracted as your arms quivered from the rush of adrenaline; hand slapped over your mouth to keep your moans to a minimum. You grabbed his hair so tightly, he groaned in mock pain; legs then contracting to a suffocating grip around his ears and head while Daemon met his own end, spending in his hand whilst milking you for all you had.

He panted with satisfaction when he pulled back, grinning at you in mischief when you released your hold on him. "Good fuckin' girl," he praised, standing to his feet only to slither over top of you. "Like not a day's gone by, huh?" He whispered, kissing you messily, smearing your cum on your tongue; grinding his bare cock into your recovering core to make you shudder. "Take a moment, then get ready," he whispered. "I expect to see you at the celebrations... Wear that dress I got you for your fifth-and-twentieth nameday," he smirked, adding, "if you'd so please, my darling."

You chuckled, "You magically learned manners during the war?"

"Perhaps," he mused, pecking your lips again.

"Hey, Daemon?"

"What is it, my sweet one?" He asked, seeing the sincerity in your eyes and hearing the seriousness in your voice - something in his heart jumping.

"Would you tell me about it all later? The war, I mean? Would you tell me what you've endured?"

"I do not think it's a tale befitting a lady's ears."

"Please? I wish to know..."

"Then I will tell you," he promised, "but only if you wear that dress."

Your eyes rolled in humor as Daemon stood. You watched him wipe his cum on a spare rag, tossing it away, and after one last kiss, was leaving out of the secret passageway's door. Taking another moment, you finally stood on weak legs and unlocked the main door, preparing how you could for your day before Milah returned.

After arriving at the luncheon, you made a beeline for your father, greeting him happily before explaining your surprise reappearance. He filled you in on that day's court, explaining that Prince Daemon was back; and you felt almost guilty for the way your skin was still set ablaze from your lover's earlier visit.

For all Otto's faults, he was still your father, and you felt guilty for sneaking around with Daemon behind his back. Your father ushered you off to mingle, insisting he was only there for the King; and no, he wasn't hungry. So, you parted ways with a chaste peck to your forehead; the feeling of his scratchy beard lingering on your guilt-riddled flesh.

"Sister, what a surprise!" Alicent happily distracted by greeting you with a bright grin. You adjusted course to approach the Queen, King, and newly-returned Prince. "Oh, what a lovely dress you've chosen," she complimented with ease, reaching for your hand. "You always do have the best eye for clothes, I feel as if need you to live in my wardrobe, tell me what to wear everyday."

"Thank you, Your Grace, I'd be honored," You smiled at her, holding her hand, looking to the others. "My King," you curtsied to Viserys, glancing at Daemon and bowing your head respectfully, "my Prince, how nice to see you, again. Welcome home."

"Thank you, my Lady," he smirked. "Might I welcome you home as well? I hear you've been gone from the Capital."

You hummed with a nod, "I was on tour with the Princess, my Prince. I've only arrived home today, as well - though not by dragonback."

He eyed you up and down, offering, "I must agree with the Queen, my Lady, that is a lovely dress you've chosen."

You pet the black material, smiling genuinely, "Thank you, my Prince. It's one of my favorites."

"I can see why, given how beautiful you look," he flirted, and from behind you and Alicent, you could hear your father scoff.

"Thank you," you whispered. "What conversation did I rudely interrupt before?"

"Oh, nothing of importance," Daemon told you, looking to his brother and your sister.

"Because we spoke of how Daemon, here, was always Mother's favorite," Viserys grinned. "Do you want to know, my Lady? About how much Mother adored Daemon?" He asked you, his little brother trying to drone over him - but Viserys was determined to tell you the examples he could think of regarding his brother's favoritism.

You giggled from both Viserys' stories and Daemon's evident embarrassment.

However, almost awkwardly, on Alicent's other side, Princess Rhaenyra approached the group and stood amongst you. You knew the King must be unhappy with his daughter, but did not voice any opinion since you were not the source of disappointment at the moment. Instead, you listened to the King's complimenting words to his brother; thinking it was interesting that Daemon was so egotistical and yet, flushed under his brother's praise. Princess Rhaenyra waited until a natural lull to tell Daemon, "Congratulations on your victory."

It was awkward as Viserys just glared at her, Rhaenyra's expression falling short. Daemon covered smoothly, "Thank you, Princess."

Trying to save the tension, your sweet sister offered, "Perhaps Prince Daemon would care for a tour of the gallery? He hasn't yet seen the new tapestries gifted to you by Norvos and Qohor."

Viserys nodded and whispered, "Oh, oh," mockingly. He asked his brother, "Would you like to see the tapestries?" But by the end, he broke character and laughed with his brother; the latter who whom you knew spat on trivial things - such as tapestries and such. Through their laughter, Viserys proclaimed to his wife, "He has no interest in such things!"

"But thank you for the offer, sister," you smiled at her, trying to reassure her when her husband laughed in her face. "The tapestries are very beautiful, you've chosen a grand place to display them. I saw them on my way here."

"I'd like to see them," Rhaenyra jumped in, seemingly to Alicent's aid - something she'd not done in an age considering the tension between them. You just smiled politely, seeing the way Viserys dropped his grin when he looked at his daughter with distain while the rest of you looked away sheepishly.

"Then you should not deprive yourself."

Rhaenyra offered a pained, pursed smile, "I shall enjoy them alone."

You, Alicent, and Daemon all stared after Rhaenyra with varying degrees of pity as she walked away to sit solemnly by herself on a distant bench while Viserys went on about his and Daemon's youth; over Daemon being their mother's favorite. However, Alicent excused herself to follow the saddened Rhaenyra, perhaps to offer the Princess comfort in her father's anger. The King looked ready to protest, but instead just shook his head in disappointment.

Viserys turned you and Daemon away from the sight of the girls, showing off the Godswood in bloom; your father approaching you three stiffly. "Your Grace," he bowed to Viserys, then nodded in resepct, "my Prince. Daughter," he smiled, trying to instigate, "how was tour with Princess Rhaenyra?"

"Oh, as eventful as a Royal Tour can be," you smiled, deflecting, "though I must admit, while seemingly exciting at some parts, I'm sure it pales terribly in comparison to the Prince's adventures in the Stepstones." Viserys smirking broadly at your redirection. "I do wonder, what brought the war to an end? We've heard rumor, but surely the Prince might know for sure what brought the Triarchy down?"

"Surely," The King nodded, looking to Daemon expectedly.

The Rogue Prince smirked and readjusted his stance, deflecting, "Perhaps a conversation for later."

"Oh, come now, brother!"

"Your Grace," Otto interrupted, "I do apologize, but there are matters at hand that require your attention. The Tully's still - "

He sighed and waved your father off, "Yes, yes... Well," Viserys nodded, "I'll call upon you both later."

"Your Grace," you instantly curtsied.

"Your Grace," Daemon bowed right after. Viserys smiled and nodded back at you both, patted his brother's shoulder, turned, and when he walked away, Otto followed with a single look to you and Daemon.

"Daughter," he bid curtly - and you read between the lines. He really wanted to say, "Do not linger around the Prince."

When the King moved, his usual procession of advisors, guards, and entourage followed right after. You sighed as almost all of the Godswood cleared out, Daemon eyeing you as he readjusted his stance; subtly reaching out to pet your hand with his fingers.

"Daemon," you warned quietly.

"Nobody is watching us," he smirked. "You look beautiful, love. I'll have to buy you more dresses, you wear them so well."

"I cannot believe I will not see you tonight," you whispered with a pout.

"I will call on you tomorrow," he reminded.

You opened your mouth, but another voice answered. "Sister," Alicent called, you looking over and smiling innocently. You caught sight of Princess Rhaenyra glaring at her uncle, but didn't think much of it.

"I look forward to your tales from the Stepstones," you told him calmly, offering a curtesy.

He took your hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back, "I look forward to any time spect together, my Lady."

You hummed in contentment before stepping away, instantly taking Alicent's arm when close enough. "What was that about? Daemon looks so smitten!" She whispered with a growing grin.

"He was being polite," you whispered back, "and simply being Daemon - you know how he is. He's got three years of mischief to make up for."

"I see," she giggled. "He's quite handsome with the short hair, isn't he? It suits him well."

"I have to agree," you gossiped. "I can see why the ladies of court have missed him so."

Your younger sister giggled, smiling at you, offering, "I've missed you greatly. Come... I wish to hear of your time away."

"Oh, sister, please, I've only just returned."

"But... Wouldn't you tell me before the King?" She whispered.

You paused, then nodded, "Got me there, sister-dearest."

"We'll take tea together," she decided, leading you around the Keep until she saw a familiar face she knew. "Talya, my sister and I wish to take tea in the gardens, please. Privately, of course, so do not announce it," she directed the handmaiden. "We'll be in the gazebo in the rose gardens, bring tea, sandwiches, and my sister's always loved those peach crumbles?"

"I know the dessert," she nodded, smiling at you. "Can I interest you, Your Grace, in anything specific?"

"No, but bring enough for us both. Come, sister."

You three parted ways, Alicent leading you to the gardens as promised. She dismissed anyone in the area, even telling her guards to wait at the front hedges to give you ideal privacy while deeper in the roses at the gazebo. While sitting, you exchanged gossip about what happened while you were away, Alicent happy to catch you up because she was happy to finally have a friend, even if it were a sister, back in her corner.

You were happy, too.

While you loved Rhaenyra, the tension between her and Ali made you feel in the middle despite both parties assuring you "you weren't". Nyra was a good friend, your best, even! But it was something about your sister that was calming and assuring. She was trustworthy to a fault, but she was still your strongest pillar.

As Talya dressed your table with tea, lemon water, sandwiches, fruits, and other foods (including the peach crumbles), you giggled at Ali's retelling of whatever failed proposals occurred this past season you were away. When alone, at last, Ali turned to you in her padded chair and asked, "Tell me in truth, how was the tour? Why did you return early?"

"In truth, sister, vying men made the Princess uncomfortable. She did not need the two months more, she knew she was unhappy with the men so far presented to her."

Alicent sighed, "So, who does she intend to marry?"

"Yes," a new voice agreed, you both jumping in shock and looking up to see Viserys approaching with your father behind him. "Who does my daughter intend to wed, Lady Hightower?"

"Your Grace," you uttered, both you and Alicent standing in respect to bow your heads.

"Please, please," he permitted you both to sit, taking the lone chair across the table as your father remained standing. "I only wish for the unfiltered truth. I know what is said, I know what is reported, I know..." He sighed, "I know what my daughter might say, but please, Lady Hightower, what is the truth of it?"

"The truth, Your Grace, is that Rhaenyra was overwhelmed. Perhaps it was too long for her that she eventually, I'm not sure, shut down? She did not care towards the end which men was presented, she was overwhelmed with the options and pace at which everything moved."

"Kings and Princes before her have done the same, many Queens and Princesses embarking on their tours to find proper suitors," Otto reminded. "Why was this different, my Lady?"

"Because she is the first," you reminded. "Never before has a woman been named heir - she holds a different responsibility. Perhaps having everything thrown at her was too much, she has to filter through lesser men that would be King Consort. Nobody stood out, she became discouraged, and honestly, Your Grace?" You spoke earnestly, "I think it just made her sad. She did not want to disappoint you by choosing a man not worthy of being her King, so, she would rather face your anger in coming home early."

Alicent frowned but nodded to herself.

Otto adverted his eyes.

Viserys looked dejected, but sighed, "I see... Thank you for your words, my Lady, truly, you've always been a trustworthy advisor to the Queen, Princess, and I."

"It's the least I can do, Your Grace, since you and Queen Aemma - you - you were so kind to me when Mother passed. And Rhaenyra - to both Alicent and I - she was a true friend. I am in debt to you, Your Grace, and whatever I can do, be it just a simple different perspective, I am happy to provide."

"Well," he considered, "in the spirit of your unfiltered perspective, who would you see Rhaenyra marry?"

You blinked in shock, "Oh, Your Grace, I-I am not qualified to say."

"You serve as my Master of Whispers, do you not?" He smirked. "Speak, please."

You sighed deeply. With a small gulp, you blinked twice, then admitted, "I do not think my opinion matters, but... It would make sense to marry her to Ser Laenor Velaryon, would it not? He's a warrior who survived the Stepstones, is of Valyrian stock and blood, rides the dragon, Seasmoke. He's kind, brave, true, unmarried, heir to Driftmark. I think when it comes to filling the position of King Consort, Ser Laenor Velaryon would make a fine candidate."

Apparently, this was all Viserys needed to hear.

You could not sleep that night. You could not explain why, but something foul was in the air and prevented you from drifting off. So, you chose to browse your private library, select a literary favorite, and stroll the deadened halls of the Red Keep; reading by flickering torch light.

Good thing you were up and out, because one of your Little Birds chirped at you from the shadows. You looked around to see nobody in the hall, but another chirp directed your attention to a darkened alcove. "Hmm, oh, Kaela," you hummed, approaching her slowly and bending at the waist. "What is it, child?"

"I came as fast as I could."

"What's wrong?"

"I've seen something - something you'll want to know," she glanced up and down the hall, "but not anyone else."

"Come," you whispered, pushing her further back into the dark and sheltering yourselves safely. Once knelt before her, you asked the child, "All right. What is it you have seen, little one?"

"Do not get angry, my Lady..."

"I promise I won't," you spoke softly, confused - you never got angry at your Little Birds... Why start now?

"I-I saw... I saw the Prince Daemon and... Princess Rhaenyra."

You nodded slowly, asking quietly, "Where?"

"In the city, in a pleasure house."

You blinked, "And what were they doing?"

"What grown-ups do."

"I see. They were coupling?"

She shrugged, "No, just kissing, but it stopped fast. He left her there."

"He left her there? In the pleasure house?"

The little girl nodded. "The Prince looked sad... When the Princess tried to kiss him again, he pulled away... Then he left."

"Where did he go? After?"

She blinked, frowning, "My brother, Grenn, said he saw him at the pubs - but he was always on the move, very drunk. I came here right away."

"Good girl," you smiled, offering her whatever Gold Dragons from the pouch you usually kept on your person under your robe for times like this. "Where will you be tomorrow evening? I will bring you and Grenn supper."

She smiled, "We can meet you at the dock!"

"The dock?"

"He likes watching the boats."

"The docks, then. By the Fisherman's Pier?"

"No, Grenn like the Harper's Pier. They're not there around supper, they're still out at sea."

"Harper's Pier for supper," you agreed. "Go on."

The little girl looked around before scampering off down a different passageway and you stood from your knelt position with a stony look of tentative contemplation on your face. With a deep breath, you did the only thing you thought you could... You went to your father.

With a rapid knock at his chamber door, it took a moment or two before he was opening it - still dressed. "What is it, daughter?" He asked gruffly. "It's late, this should wait till morning."

"The castle is about to wake - "

"I know and I've much to attend to - "

"Father," you hissed, glancing up the hall.

He sighed and let you in, "What is it?"

"I carry scandalous news," you muttered, his door's lock echoing around you. "About the Princess Rhaenyra."

He turned to you sharply, you taking a step back in surprise. "You... Know?"

"About her sneaking around in a pleasure house?"

Otto frowned, "Do you know with who?"

You could not tell him, so you answered, "No, just that she was seen in disguise."

"Who told you this?"

"One of my Birdies."

"All right," he decided, nodding to himself, "thank you, daughter, for reporting this. I will... I will figure out what to say to the King."

"Should you say anything?"

"I'll figure it out - but now we both know."

You nodded, "So you knew before I came?"

"I was awoken an hour ago to hear this news."

You nodded slowly, "Then I will leave you to it."

"Thank you," he whispered, letting you peck his cheek in parting before slipping out of his chambers. With nothing left to do or anything else to say, you went back to your chambers as to limit your exposure to the castle's tenants.

The less that could say they saw you this night, the better.

Once safe in your chambers with a locked main door, you could do nothing else but (over)think, wishing to all the Seven Gods you didn't know what you knew. Information and knowledge was vital to maintain power, this is true, but it also made you dangerous - also a target. The more you knew, the bigger the target.

It was only a few hours after dawn when the secret passage doors to your chamber opened. You were braiding your hair, ignoring the man you knew to have the only balls to use that door - especially now.

"I've always wondered, if we had children, would they have white hair or waves of fire, like you? Perhaps something between?"

"Fuck off, Daemon."

"So, you've heard," he sighed deeply. "Won't you even look at me?"

"I can't stand the very thought of you right now, nor the actual sound, I'll lose my stomach if I have to look at you."

"Let me tell you the truth," he begged, "before I have to leave the Keep, let me tell you the truth. Let Viserys and everyone have their ideas and opinions, their lies and slander, but let me tell you!"

"Excuse me?" You asked, whirling around in your seat to glare at him fully. "Viserys banished you, again?"

"He did... Back to the Vale."

You scoffed, "Good... Your Lady wife awaits you."

"Viserys thinks I've sullied Rhaenyra's virtue. I do not need you thinking the same, so, please, let me tell you what happened - no matter how uncomfortable, please, let me tell you the truth."

"What difference does it make?"

"I can't have you thinking something more occurred. Was I tempted? Yes, but I refrained. Did I touch her? A little - but not how you think."

You sighed, shaking your head, "I don't care, you're returning to your wife in the Vale, and I will be rid of you. No matter for how long this time, you will be gone - "

"For a time, yes, but I intend to return for you."

"No, I think I'll let Father make me a match. I despised the North, it was too cold, so the handsome Cregan Stark is out. I don't mind Dorne, perhaps a Martel to marry? Or even a Tully of Riverrun?"

"Do not speak such atrocities to me."

"You're one to talk! Your niece, Daemon? The girl I consider my closest friend? You couldn't just find that whore you like and be satisfied with her? Couldn't wait a single day, could you? Huh? How fucking pathetic!"

"Perhaps you are not as close with Rhaenyra as you thought," he tisked, making you feel disarmed. He spent the next hour and a half explaining to you what happened the previous night, and despite your disgust, you just listened.

Knowledge was power.

"I will return," he sighed at the end, "and in that time, you can make your own decisions if you want me or not. But I will return and I will have you, if you will have me, and this foolishness will be behind us."

"I'll give you a single year. I will not wait for you longer than that," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "I can't stand that you've done this, but I will wait one single year for you to find a way out of your marriage and back to me. Any longer than that, and I will simply move on. I do not want to live my whole life in the Red Keep, and the truth of it is, I cannot live in the Princess' shadow any longer. One year, Daemon."

"One year," he nodded, stepping closer. "My love, please - "

"Do not assume to touch me. Not after you've touched her," you snapped, stepping away. "Get out, I need to be alone, you have been banished - you need to go, you cannot be seen here." Your eyes rolled, muttering, "Probably have to go collect your whore for this banishment, too."

"Not this time," he smirked, "this time, I leave with my promise that I will return for you, my sweet Lady Hightower."

"Fuck off, you perverted Prince Daemon," you sassed, watching him slip out the door; shutting you in an echoing silence. Your heart ripped itself apart, making you wonder what the fuck you had done to deserve getting caught in such a scandalous affair. But you knew, in your heart, you'd do anything for Daemon - the thought sickening your stomach as you pondered how far this would all go.

part two: And Let Me Love You Anyway

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[sergentreckless]

You Drive Me Crazy

Boone x Reader (Twisters)

Summary: Your pretty red nails have Boone going crazy for you

WC: 1833

A/N: Omg hi, so this is the first fic I've ever written and I need legit feedback, so please message me if you have any thoughts :) I hope you like it <3 I'm a bit nervous for it, but I like it, I'm thinking of making a pt 2. if y'all like it. Okay love youuuuu

Also, please don’t steal my writing, I worked hard and my praise kink loves the hearts :)

Warnings: Smut for sure, more smutty thoughts I guess, desperate thoughts, I think that's it? let me know if i missed any, I'm new to this

Boone’s eyes locked on you from across the parking lot, where you stood chatting with Tyler about what storm you were chasing today. You looked wonderfully done up, yet he could tell it took no effort at all. How could you possibly look so good standing there in jean shorts and a tee? It might help that your shirt cut off a little above the waist band of your shorts, showing a bit of your bare tummy and a glint of your belly button piercing. It drove him wild.

You look up from the tablet you and Tyler are hovered over and notice Boone staring at you. Thinking nothing of it, you shoot him a sweet smile and wiggle your fingers in his direction, giving him a silent hello. He blushes at your smile, sending you one back, but that isn’t what keeps his gazed fixed on you. Yes, you were beautiful, of course he would want to look at you, though he wouldn’t admit that to anyone. No, what really caught his eye, kept his attention, was your bright red nails. Medium in length, rounded off, knowing if you kept them in any other shape, they would break off, and you certainly couldn’t have that. You kept your nails in good condition, not having many opportunities to keep many of your things or appearances extravagant, as you were being constantly tossed around by the wind and rain that came with tornadoes.

 Distracted by the thoughts of what those beautiful, soft hands would look and feel like, running down his midriff, playing with the elastic of his boxers, slowly making your way down, and grasping onto his—“Boone, are you ready to head out?” you asked him when you stopped in front of him with a light hearted, excited smile plastered across your face. You had jogged over to him after he hadn’t responded to yours or Tyler’s calls, figuring he just had a lot on his mind, not at all unhappy to come closer to snap him out of it.

Truth be told, you always had a bit of a thing for Boone, his exhilarating personality always giving you so much energy, not to mention, he was amazing to look at, his moustache being one of the features you appreciate most about him.

Boone nodded his head eagerly, still star struck by you, opting to not open his mouth, as he didn’t trust himself to not say something stupid. The two of you walked side by side back towards the red ultra-modded truck the three of you would be barrelling into as soon as you reached it.

 Boone couldn’t help but fixate on how your hand wrapped around the handle of your door, watching your pretty red nails fold around the silver plastic. He couldn’t help his thoughts from wandering back to what he had been thinking of moments ago. Those hands looked so pretty wrapped around that handle, what would they look like wrapped around him? The thought got his blood pumping, the images of your delicate fingers with those decorated nails gripping his length, slowly moving up and down, overflowed his mind.

He quickly tore his eyes away from you, hopping in the truck and sitting down hastily, as not to get caught with the tent in his pants. He tried not to let his overactive imagination get him into trouble, but he was having a hard time controlling the perverted thoughts that raced through his brain. He couldn’t get the thought of it out of his head. How was he going to survive an entire day in the truck with you? At least he didn’t have to sit in the back with you… well he wasn’t supposed to until Tyler raced over to the truck with Kate, motioning Boone to the back seat so Kate could work her magic and find you the perfect storm. Boone’s heart pounded and his stomach did a few flips. Now he truly had no idea how he was going to get through the day, the urge to touch you, grab at you, and squeeze you burning in his head.

            He was right, this was torture… but he loved it. He loved seeing the excitement on your face as Tyler drove into the pelting rain, ready to see the tornado you had all been waiting for. He saw your eyes brighten and your hands shoot up to your face, your reaction to a bail of hay intercepting your path. Thankfully your driver was good at his job, as reckless as he could be, and he avoided the bail with no problems at all. Boone’s eyes were fixed on your hands as they shot to your face, still haunted by the thoughts of them all over him. He had a moment of realization, comparing how he had always thought before to how he was thinking now. Any time he had thought of hands being put to use, he always imagined his on you, not yours on him. He was always having thoughts about what his strong hands would look like wrapped around your beautiful throat, gently cutting off your air supply, making you dizzy, and sending you into a different dimension. Or how his fingers would look disappearing into your warm, wet pussy, pushing in and out, trying to draw out as many moans from you as he possibly could. God, he was so desperate to hear what you sounded like when he was worshipping your body.

--

Your chase wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, not for you as Wranglers, that is. You ran your experiment, and collected your data as planned, and had a lot of fun along the way. You had noticed Boone had been quiet all day. It had you a bit worried, he was never that way. He always had something to say or a noise to make, expressing himself constantly; you loved it about him.

Arriving at the motel, you had all gone your separate ways, having a tiring day. Yes, everything had gone to plan, but being whipped around in a tornado is exhausting none the less. You unlocked the motel room door with the key Kate had given you five minutes earlier. After bidding her a good night, you set off to relax. You closed the door and set you bag on the floor next to the bed and headed off to the bathroom to wash your face, in hopes of feeling a bit more fresh. As soon as your hands felt the chill from the water, you heard a gentle knock on your door. Curious as to who could be knocking on your door so late at night, you gazed through the peep hole, seeing the man you were always sneaking glances at. As soon as you recognized who it was, your heart skipped several beats, releasing a slight panic throughout your body. You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down and removed the only barrier that separated the two of you.

“You know, you really shouldn’t open the door for a random person in the middle of the night,” Boone quipped, raising one eyebrow, as if he knew better than you. You chuckled slightly, more preoccupied with the fact that he showed up at your door at all. “You know I could see you, right?” you ask back, gesturing to the little circle in the upper-center of the door. You step aside to let him in, assuming he has come for a reason. He steps through the threshold and stares at you as you shut the door.

 You turn around to face him, wondering why he decided to pay you a late night visit. The silence gets heavy, weighing on the both of you, as neither of you know exactly what to say. You both open your mouths, ready to speak, even if the words weren’t well thought through. You see Boone ready to speak, so you instinctively close your mouth, ready to listen to whatever he has to say. He takes a few moments to think about what he wants to say, seeing how patiently you are willing to wait for him.

His arms extend out to your waist as he steps forward, hoping you won’t mind him touching you. After everything you have unknowingly put him through today, you deserve to know how he feels. Though he had a job to do, you were so distracting that he couldn’t focus on it all day. Instead, his thoughts were filled with visions of your hands wrapped around his cock. He wished his thoughts had stopped at that, but of course he was craving more and more. With the fantasy ever evolving, he started imagining what the addition of your mouth would look like. How pretty your lips would look wrapped about his dick, even better if your lipstick matched your nails, leaving lip marks all along him. Thinking of you sucking him off while stroking whatever of his length you couldn’t fit in your mouth. The thoughts made him so frustrated, he had to come see you to do something about the rock in his pants that wouldn’t go away until it fulfilled it’s purpose: filling you to the brim. You lean into his touch, relishing in the warmth his hands brought to your waist. Looking up at him, you meet his intense gaze, you can tell he wants something more from you. And you are so happy to give it to him. “You know, pretty girl, you’ve been driving me crazy all day.” You can’t help but notice the southern drawl in his voice, heat rushing through your body, centering at your most intimate area. “Oh yeah? How so?” you ask back, half of you flattered and the other half of you genuinely curious of what it is about you that is driving him crazy so you know for the future. “Those cute little shorts you’re wearing and that gorgeous smile drive me crazy baby, but… I just can’t stop imagining what those beautiful hands can do. How beautiful would your nails look wrapped around my dick?” he asked, pulling you closer to him. You look up at him through your eyelashes, looking as innocent as ever, sending an electric shock though his body at the sight. He grabs your chin with a firm, yet loving grip. “You truly do drive me crazy darlin’, I just can’t help myself when it comes to you.” He drags your face to meet his, locking your lips in a deep and passionate kiss. “You have been torturing me all day long, you know that?” he exclaims, bringing you in for another intense kiss. “Sitting there, looking all pretty, not knowing what you’re doing to me…” he runs his thumb over your bottom lip, looking at your mouth like he is holding himself back from devouring it. “I guess I’m just going to have to show you how much you really do drive me crazy."

[littledeathdove]

Obsessed Mother Miranda…obsessed over you. This has clogged my brain so I must cleanse it by ranting about it.

This whole situation is a ride that no one signs up for willingly — that’s a lie, I know many who would bark to sign up — but why wouldn’t anyone want this situation?

Because Miranda is someone who loves her whole flesh, bones, brain, and soul. I mean look at how she is with Eva and that will tell you your answer. When she wants you, she is going to get you no matter how long it takes or what it takes.

And if she has to take away things she deems as distractions from her claiming your whole being as hers, she will. Even if it means the people you love.

Enough of that though, let’s talk about what happens after you got your ass in this. First off you will start to notice some differences around the village. The crows that are seen as a symbol of protection in the village — that and also goats — are now acting odd…as in they are fucking watching you. Now you would think, hey maybe am just overthinking this. The crows watch everyone and listen to everything, and you aren’t any more special than the other villagers to be stalked by these crows. Or are you?

Another thing about the crows, they are now starting to follow you. There’s no overacting to this because you can see them in the corner of your eye, hopping from roof to roof, following you. Not anyone else, because you’re the only one currently walking down this path. While the seeing crows watching people from above are a common thing and in fact are seen as an indirect sign of Mother Miranda’s presence and protection. It’s not common at all to be followed by these crows. Or at least no one else has talked about such experiences before.

So why is it happening to you? You can’t express any concern you have since everyone in the village will think you are just lucky. So now you not only have to worry about these crows watching and likely listening to you, but you also have to worry about them following you. And you swear you see one outside of your window one night. Looking directly in the direction of your bed, you swear it is watching you sleep. You don’t know if it knows you see it and are surely now awake, but after you move a little too much, the crow flies off.

The only time you get a break from this is when you are in a building with not that many windows, or when you are attending Mother Miraqnda’s services. Speaking about the services, they are even starting to feel an…uncomfortable feeling of being watched. You don’t know why, especially since when you look around it seems that everyone is watching and looking at Mother Miranda. You don’t notice it yet though, but the same woman who has everyone’s attention is giving all of her attention — mostly just a majority of it — to you.

You don’t know that the same woman that you have been taught and trained to believe in, has been stalking you, observing you, and planning. What is she planning? No idea, likely if you will make a good vessel for her daughter. I mean why else would someone like you be giving this certain feeling in her chest, why you become a part of her thoughts if you aren’t the perfect vessel?

But with that same unknown feeling burning up in Miranda’s chest, comes another feeling every time she thinks about kidnapping you when she has the perfect opportunity — and this feeling isn’t so unknown. She knows this feeling, oh yes, it’s a feeling of guilt the same feeling she feels when she thinks of her daughter’s death. Miranda doesn’t understand this, she doesn’t understand you.

This makes it even worse for you, because now Miranda is even more curious, she needs to understand why you caught her attention out of all the villagers, why she feels this disgusting and horrible feeling of guilt when she tries to give you the same fate many villagers had before you. She needs to fully understand all of this for then she can go back to her normal.

After getting ready and dressed up for the weekly service Mother Miranda is holding today, and after dealing with the crows watching you and following you from your home to the church, you finally make it inside the church and the service starts. It didn’t take long for that uncomfortable feeling of being stared at to appear again, but this time you were determined to see who had been watching you throughout these services. You turn your eyes in all directions, looking around while trying to not bring attention to what you are doing. Finally, you catch the eyes that have been burning holes in your body during this service.

You would have never suspected it to be the cold, lightless eyes of Mother Miranda.

Making eye contact with her sent a shiver down your spine like her blue eyes were ice sickles that were aiming to give you frostbite. And the fact she takes at least a good few seconds to look away makes you almost piss yourself. While you are scared out of your mind shitless, Miranda is internally smirking at how you seemed so scared of her gaze on you. Amusing.

You knew deep down in your gut that her looking at you for that long, even if it was a few minutes, didn’t mean anything good. Even if it should…

Those are just a few things that happen as Miranda is slowly becoming obsessed with you. Now I wish to talk about how her personality traits clash with the obsession she has with you. You can find the personality trait analysis/rant I did on Mother Miranda in this post. Anyway on to it!

Mother Miranda is manipulative, she likely changes certain aspects of herself…

Let me go ahead and just say this. You’re not getting away from Miranda’s manipulative behavior, never in a million years will you be able to. Miranda’s manipulation is what leads you to believe that any of Miranda’s concerning or bad actions towards you are completely fine and you are just overthinking.

Miranda isn’t the best person, and she knows this. And she knows that her bad actions could cause you to start leaning away from her, and she can’t have that now. So she will sweet talk you into believing that her doing things like being aggressive towards you at times and stalking you (even when she is out of her crow) is fine. All just so she can keep you to herself.

Miranda is definitely the type of manipulator to give you attention and then suddenly take it away when you do something she deems wrong. Why? Because she needs to train you dear. She has high expectations out of you because she sees you as a lover — a high status if I must tell — so she does this to get you back straight and give you a reminder why you should obey her and act right. You won’t see her crows watching or following you. She won’t talk to you like at all nor will she look at you. She is the perfect player when it comes to giving people silent treatment so trust you’re going to feel affected by this sudden change.

This is perfect for Miranda because that means her small plan is working. When she finally decides to give you attention again, you will soak it up, fight tooth and nail, and be so obedient just to keep her attention. Just like how she wants you to be when it comes to her, and only her alone.

Miranda also loves to remind you of how she is the one protecting you, and how special the privilege is because you have the luck to be protected by such a person like herself. This is another manipulation tactic that she uses to make it seem like you have a debt towards her and because of it, you are obligated to be fine with how she treats and acts towards you. And to also keep you acting right because she could take that protection away and leave you to the wolves. (Not like she would though, she is too infuriated with you to do such a thing)

Mother Miranda is selfish, she doesn’t care about the people in the village…

Miranda’s selfishness is what causes you to slowly lose friendships, relationships with family, and even normal socialization with other villagers. Miranda doesn’t like the idea of you being too close to anyone else, why though? Miranda doesn’t believe others should have what belongs to her, and like I said before she will remove the things she deems as distractions from you giving all your attention to her.

She doesn’t believe others deserve the same rights of getting your attention, love, or energy. No, she doesn’t think of your feelings about doing this. No, she doesn’t think about the feelings of the people she is slowly removing from your life. They don’t matter, her wants and dreams do, and she wants you all to herself like a child wants a local toy for themselves alone.

Miranda will also have you doing things that you don’t want to do simply because of how selfish she is. For example: Miranda will likely have you learn about human anatomy and how to do small surgeries on bodies because she wants you to for then she has an extra hands on deck for speeding up experiments. Be creeped out all you want, whine and complain about it, and tell her you wish to stop it doesn’t matter since she wants you to be doing this. So you are going to honey.

Mother Miranda is a perfectionist, she doesn’t settle for anything less….

Miranda's perfectionist trait is what causes you to keep your physical appearance looking good. And that is also what has you gaining more confidence about your looks. Ok listen, Miranda doesn’t hate anything about your body. She is just too obsessed with you to hate anything about you, and that is why she thinks you are perfect. That is also her excuse on why she is obsessed with you (she doesn’t call it obsession though). Something so perfect has to be made specifically for her. There’s the perfectionist in her talking.

With that said, what I mean by her being a perfectionist about your looks is that she fixes up your appearance so then you can continue to look perfect. Like she smooths out your clothes when she notices wrinkles, she fixes your hair if it’s out of place, small things like that. These small things she does have you gaining the habit of looking for these small things and fixing them before she can.

Miranda also has high expectations for you as a lover because of how much of a perfectionist she is. For example, for you to listen to her and obey what she tells you to do, and finish up the chores she gave you around the house, etc

You and Miranda do get into arguments once in a while due to her getting upset when you don’t reach her standards all of the time. Again because of the perfectionist behavior.

Mother Miranda is sadistic, I believe that woman like seeing people in pain.…

You are a part of those people. The face Miranda makes when she sees you scrunching your face up in pain and whimpering from the feeling — is just downright off-putting.

The love of seeing you in pain only intensifies because she is obsessed/in love with you. So hopefully you can take on a great amount of pain because you’re going to be feeling it way more often now.

Here is the deal breaker though, Miranda is the only one who can inflict pain upon you. Anyone else does it, they will be having their head rolling in seconds after she finds out. It doesn’t matter if it is a villager, a lord, or a damned animal. If they hurt you then they are better off dead.

Mother Miranda is a nerd, sharp turn there, but it’s true…

If Miranda allows you in her lab and allows you to partake in the experiments of the mold, you will soon see a side of Miranda that you never thought existed. A side of her that talks almost nonstop, and if you look more closely you will notice she has a small bit of childish excitement laced in her expressions. This only happens when she is talking about the mold and the success she has experienced in her experiments.

Another thing, you are going to have to lead the conversation for at least three minutes before she takes it over, and it’s also going to have to be about the mold or something scientific.

Though you are likely the only one able to get her to start talking about things first, and have it be not about mold shit.

Miranda will also likely learn a lot about you and become somewhat of a nerd when it comes to you. She could tell someone almost anything they would like to know about you — not like she would though — that’s how bad it is.

She will probably slip up sometimes and tell you something even you don’t know about yourself.

Mother Miranda is unpredictable, you can’t have a set idea of how you believe Miranda operates…

Miranda’s unpredictability is the “fun” part of this whole situation and is what makes it harder to believe if she loves you or not.

One day Miranda is doing what you expect from a lover. Acting sweet towards you, being more touchy than usual, and telling you how you are hers. Then the next day comes and she is acting the exact opposite. She is still possessive but she is more isolated in her feelings, barely giving you attention, brushing you off, and telling you to leave her be.

It’s so confusing but it’s simply how Miranda operates because she just lives behind masks. It’s not that her feelings for you are a mask or a front, but it’s more like they are making Miranda get too comfortable and distracted from her life mission. So she will put on a mask of not wanting you so then she can avoid those feelings she believes to be pulling her away from what she needs to do.

The funny thing is that even on those opposite days, Miranda will still call you her’s. Just this time it seems like she is saying you belong to her just as the other villagers belong to her. Not in the romantic way you are used to.

Another thing about Miranda’s unpredictability is that it can determine how your day goes. If she — for some reason — decides to act more distant that day, that means your day is likely to be fucked up. You are going to be stuck doing chores, wondering why Miranda is acting this way now, and being bored out of your mind because Miranda isn’t allowing you near her.

But if she is in that lovely romantic mood, your day is destined to be good. Miranda will appear behind you randomly and just be touchy for no reason. And then she will go back to her lab like nothing happened. If you have gotten to the point of the relationship where she trusts you in her lab, then you are to not leave her side after you are done with chores. Miranda will also give you more attention that day and be more talkative towards you.

Unfortunately, you can’t expect what you are going to get until you get it because Miranda is good at hiding feelings when she wants to. So until you do something to get a reaction out of her, you won’t know what type of day you’re going to have. All due to her unpredictability.

Mother Miranda is bat-shit insane, there is no denying it because it’s just one of her main personality traits…

This woman will do the craziest shit to have you. Am not joking. She would go as far as transforming into a little kid and bragging about herself in front of you to just get you to be more impressed by her true self.

I could imagine her disguised as a child skipping away after she is satisfied and convinced that you see her in a much better light now after she just praised on and on about how good Mother Miranda is.

Like you would think this woman has limits, but when she is obsessed with you to the point it’s right there with how much she obsesses over Eva, there are no limits she won’t cross.

I could imagine her coming to you as she would to any other villager before she kidnaps you to be her lover. Telling you how you are special and giving you a gift because of it. Telling you to set it in a specific spot in your room since this gift has as much special value as you do. This gift is likely to allow her to watch you even better now when she can’t have her eyes on you. (She got tired of the messy views she sees of you from the windows of your bedrooms when she is in crow from.)

This woman has no bounds, so think of the craziest shit you think someone obsessed with someone else would do, and likely Miranda has or will do it.

Hm, yeah I think that is enough ranting for now. I was going to rant way more but I don’t want to get off track from the original topic. Which I was close to doing multiple times. Anyway, this is just another long rant that I didn’t mean to make this long in the first place. I don’t understand how in the world I can write so much so easily when ranting but not when writing fanfics 😔. It’s actually so confusing.

Hmm, I wonder what I should rant about next 🧐

[01always14fanfic]

What are your thoughts on early season marvey (s1 - s4)? Their dynamic changes quite a bit in later seasons and I'm assuming that's the basis of most of your writings

It is really. Those first few seasons. My Introducing Lovely series has completely fucked with the timelines of Suits. But I started writing it when I was in season 4 or 5. Jessica wasn't looking like she was going anywhere. Since I know more, I started writing my fics earlier in the Suits timelines. 2-4.

S1

Season 1 the puppy analogy for Mike is dead on. He is lost as fuck in the big boy world. He doesn't know how to file anything, do anything. He's so cocky, which is more funny that it was anything else.

Harvey absolutely needed to check that pride. Because no, puppy. You don't have the walk to talk the talk. Sit down.

Season 1 Harvey, he didn't want an associate because he knew the type. He's been the law world for almost 20 years, he was an associate himself. He works with associates all the time. The thought of being forced to work with someone everyday that annoyed him was not going to work. He literally pays Donna's extra salary to keep his people. Harvey doesn't work well with others (because he doesn't want to work with others).

So when he found Mike, someone was fun to be around.. I could have working with you every day.

When Mike dropped a case of pot on his feet and was willing to pretend to be a lawyer, he became easy to keep under his thumb.

When he was smart on top of all that..

Honestly too, I think the fuck you to Jessica for making him to do this is funny. ..I guess understood why she doesn't appreciate the humor. Lol.

All of this with Harvey could be wrapped up under one theme. Chasing intensities.

S2

Season two, Mike isn't a pro but he's practiced. He helps Harvey with Hardman. He figures out Folsom Foods. He's getting better, but hes not great. He's basically just out of diapers, so he's still easily flustered. He panics when he messes up and messes up more.

He wants a relationship with Rachel, but he doesn't want to lie. He's more worried about Harvey's concerns than he is about telling the truth. He breaks that off with Rachel.

Then his grandmother dies and he loses it on Harvey. After getting sent home after blowing up in the bullpen, he spirals more. Edith meant the world to him and his overactive brain is replaying these memories vividly.

Harvey finds out late what is going on with Mike.

And what does he do? He turns Mike's brain off. He sees Mike just stuck in his head and trying to fill a space that can't be filled. Not with Tess, not with getting mad at clients, those aren't the distractions he needs.

Harvey finds out late what is going on with Mike, but reasonably so. The issues with Hardman, Darby, Louis, and Jessica have him completely distracted. Plus Scottie's drama. He was rightfully distracted, he was being pulled in all directions.

In the final episode we see a pretty good wrap up of what happens when these two don't communicate.

Mike is out of the loop what is going on with everything with Harvey's deals. His grandmother had just died. He didn't know about the deal with Darby about Harvey's name no longer being an option. He didn't know that he ruined Harvey's chance at getting his name on the door.

While Mike is stuck in his head and Harvey is fighting, they both loose themselves. Harvey likes to walk the gray, but he doesn't abide by ethical violations. He's very strict about code, it's how he got noticed by Jessica in the first place. Harvey made several big violations that as Mike quoted "would have made his stomach turn."

Harvey wants him fired and gone.

Mike is more alone then ever and tells Rachel his secret, because he needs someone. Anyone.

S3

I don't know how this season could have started with anymore angst.

When Jessica gives Mike an office, trying to play nice again. Tells him all the things she noticed. "You didn't just come through on the merger. You bluffed Hardman, turned Monica Eton, and put us over the top on Folsom Foods." She tells him the story about her parents break up.

Mike isn't excited. He isn't flattered. He's sitting there all brokenhearted because he messed up. He asks Jessicsa if her parents ever got back together, because his brain is on Harvey.

Later, he tries to get Harvey to get let that anger out. "You haven't said whatever you have to say to rip me to shreds enough so that you can start to forgive me. So go ahead. Whatever it takes, I can take it." And he can, Mike has been on the end of Harvey’s harsh words more than enough times to know.

Mike gives Jessica the office back. "I wanna give this office back. I didn't earn it, I don't want it, and if there's a chance it'll help Harvey forgive me, I'm gonna take it. Oh, and, uh, if you ever do send that letter, you're in the same boat as me."

This ^ Scene reminded me of the scene in S1 where Harvey threatened Jessica to get keep his promotion. Harvey backed down to her threat, fired Mike, but then came back with the gun turned back on her.

I was like "Damn boy! You learning! There you go! But you still broke Harvey's heart asshole, so fix that."

Harvey pushes him away harder. Colder. Gives him to Louis. Tells them again they are done.

Mike has Rachel whispering in his ear confirming all the things Harvey's saying. They're done. Move on. So Mike tries, he dives into working Louis. He likes most of it, so it's not torture but it's not where he's supposed to be. This isn't the best version of himself, it's just what he can have now.

Then Harvey has it out with Jessica on the roof. She unfolds the parallels for him. Mike did to Harvey, what Harvey did to Jessica, what Jessica did to her mentors. Breaks down the concept of 'We learn and we amend or fight to the death. I don't went to fight to the death with you anymore Harvey.'

Harvey mulled that over and does finally accept that Mike probably did learn. He sees him with Louis, he doesn't like that. He has too much pride to back down from everything that was said. Donna offers Harvey some support if he wants to forgive Mike and he takes the out.

This is where I feel we see the dynamic start changing a little bit. It's early S3.

Season three, Harvey is more helpful as a mentor to guide him. The best way I can describe it is that Harvey is a master teacher, and Mike was still in grade school. Mike has all the basic skills now, so now Harvey can actually show him how to be hone and find new skills. But he's could only do so much until Mike is ready to take that step on his own.

He stood his ground with Jessica. He's been winning cases. He's helped with Hardman. And if Harvey's a little honest with himself, if he had told Mike all the information - Mike would have made a different choice with Jessica.

The first thing that threw me off was the Forrest Gump reference game between them for a hot second. Harvey has zero issue turning the tables to remind Mike of his place in their relationship. But not here.

"Okay, if I'm Forrest, then you're Bubba."

"Shrimpin' bidness."

It actually gave me whiplash the first time I heard it. Mike moves on, he doesn't even bask in it. He goes into the concern about Harvey becoming managing partner.

EP 3 - 6. No more puppy jokes. No more trying to dominant the situation, conversation, or debate. It's all more leveled.

EP 7

Harvey talks about kicking Stephans ass. Mike just nods and drinks his coffee, no witty comment until Harvey gets a little offended.

"You think I wouldn't do it?"

"No, I'm not sure you could do it."

"What's he going to hit me with, his ascot?"

"Harvey, the man plays rugby. That's no joke."

Harvey doesn't dispute. Doesn't quip back. He's caught off guard, because Mike is going by the facts. He's not going to change his mind just because Harvey gets more witty.

(We find out later, Harvey could indeed kick Stephen's ass. But Mike wasn't swooned by the words lol)

-

Then Jessica comes in all huffy about Stephen giving Cameron a witness. When she revealed the deal between Harvey and Darby that Mike didn't know about, you see them share a look. You can see Mike pissed and surprised, but keeping it together. You see Harvey looking guilty and caught.

Jessica catches this and tries to drive a wedge again. "Are you telling me he doesn't know?"

Mike takes over, squashing the issue of the secret keeping for the time being while Jessica is there. He's not going to allow her to get between them again. Harvey relaxes and falls right back into being his lawyer self.

- gif post

When Harvey and Jessica face off again in Jessicas office, Harvey says something that triggers Jessica. The second it came out, you see Mike's head drop as if saying goddammit Harvey. Because the second Jessica hits back, you see it actually hurts Harvey.

Mike sits there after Harvey walks away like he wants to say something, but he doesn't. Later on, he catches up with Jessica at her car and stands up for Harvey there. Even though she's super condescending (that lawyer pride man), she tells Mike how they can both get what they want.

Mike is watching and listens to everyone around him. Harvey. Donna. Jessica. He figures out Stephen is the culprit.

- gif post

EP9

Harvey and Jessica are battling again in her office. Mike comes in and verbally steps between them, it gives me the vibes of 'nope, Jessica this my territory now'

"Yeah, about an hour ago. Don't tell me I beat you to it." - Mike

"Maybe. But you didn't have Harvey slowing you down." - Jessica notices again the dynamic switch.

"That's a fair point." - Mike

"Okay, I'm right here." - Harvey complains, he doesn't correct or make a joke.

And also

"I mean the plan that I thought of and that you didn't and that I'm the perfect person to implement." - Mike to Harvey

- gif post

And he succeeds. Robert Zane gets Folsom Foods to pay in full.

Rachel gets mad about she was used in the negotiations. Donna confronts Mike about it.

Donna: "Anyone who understands women in any way would know that was a bad idea from the start."

Mike: "Harvey liked it." - This the only justication Mike needed

"Proving my point."

- gif post

E10

Mike wants one of the major cases, his desperation for it is obvious to Harvey. Where any associate obviously wants to work on the big cases for experience, status, ect., Harvey knew better. He saw it, Mike's brain was spiraling again. Only this time, Mike recognized the signs.

Harvey: "You got girlfriend troubles, don't you?" - Takes a swing with his best guess with a joke.

Mike: "Okay, I'm just asking for an assignment, that's all." - Puts his emotions to the side and refocuses.

Harvey: "Don't tell me, quarterback asked her to the prom?" - Pushes again because he wants to make sure he's right.

Mike: "Captain Pinstripe's the one who brought up the girlfriend, and second of all, people actually had girlfriends after high school, which you wouldn't know, because emotionally, you never graduated." - We can play this game if you want to, but I don't think you do.

Harvey's tone gets more defensive. He knows he's right and he's not a fan of Rachel. He's half opening the floor to an emotional conversation right now. Que the sass.

"Well, I guess you're the expert, because the only thing you graduated from is high school."

If Harvey was a girl, he'd make sure his hair flipped as he walked off.

The next morning, Mike shows up at Harveys all distraught over Rachel. Not only does Harvey not like Rachel, he told Mike not to get involved with her. He tried to warn him this was a bad idea.

Mike accused Harvey of not letting people in, and you can see Harvey start to busy himself at that point. Like this conversation is the last thing he wants to focus on now, because he let Mike in. He's been letting him a lot more lately. Harvey gives him the morning off.

Okay, I know the question was for 1-4 but it'll take another few days to answer the rest. I feel bad that you've waiting for a response. I can do the rest if you're still curious. But it's this with some growth on both sides.

I like to entertain what would could have happened if we just moved on from Rachel as a romantic interest. If we just put these two together, the things they could accomplish if they were a complete duo.

[bangtandreamland8]

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Thanks To Shiftblr I Notice a Big Change in Mind Set ♥

Just a little head up so u don't get confused instead of () to express my thoughts, feelings or opinions they will be colored in pink like this also purple is for information that was important to me and had some sort of effect on me in someway Hopefully that makes sense bc I'm bad at explaining things

when I first Stumbled Across Shiftblr I wanted To Get Away from all the toxic people on shifttok + I was also losing some interest in shifting witch caused a very long shifting break. That was UNTIL I Decided that one day to not go on shifttok again and look for information about shifting Somewhere Else and in my search, I came across Shiftblr and I was hit with a lot of Yelling the yelling was well deserved mainly about Not Caring about the 3D The only important 4D is our real reality because we are imagination and Also How we are always shifting also persisting. Sorry if it doesn't make sense, I was trying to summaries what I have been learning on here One Major change I noticed was 4 days ago I did my first Shifting attempt after a very long break because I just randomly started thinking about My BTS Reality It was A random Scenario That I had Scripted So I thought I was do a sleep method, But I ended Up Falling asleep, But I noticed feeling a little happy when I woke up even though I fell asleep during my method I remember saying to myself "Its Okey That I fell asleep Bc I still shifted" after I told myself that there was a part of me that Did Believed that I Shifted But a small part of me that Didn't But I decided not to focus too much on that side of me this was a big difference bc I would normally just throw a fit about me falling asleep while I was trying to shift Or Would look at the steps to the method I did to see if I did anything wrong. but instead, I just said I still shifted and went on with the rest of my day Evan Tho there was still that small part of me that didn't believe what I had said was true I just thought that I had Shifted But because there was that other part of me that believed that I had shifted, and I was in my Dr so I just decided to Listen To that part Of Me Instead of thinking I Didn't shift and whining and complain about it so, I just got out of bed and went on with my day and that was it. Another thing I learned from being on tumbler is loa And Manifestations in general one thing I learn is that the 4D is our real reality So why should we care about what we see in the 3D and as long as we accept the fact that we have everything we want in the 4D then we don't have to worry about the 3D bc the 3D Is not Our Ture reality this how my brain took that information from different post on here also, something else that I kept in mind was that we are Imagination we are nothing but Imagination. I'm goanna admit that this was hard for me to grasp at first bc I now realize I might have been overthinking it a little. but when I first started reading those post I was always saying to myself "how am imagination when people would say how bad it was for me to have a big imagination when I was younger" I was one of those kids who had an overactive imagination, and I also had family member who though that it was weird But besides I later thought that well if this person is telling me that I am Imagination then why would they lie. so, for a couple of days I would randomly say to myself " I'm Imagination" and to be honest I don't know why I just for some reason felt that I needed to remind myself that I am imagination and I think it worked in some way bc I was trying to manifest some money, and I went to the job my mom helps me get cleaning the doctor office that she worked at before I started, I closed my eyes and told myself I would do a really good job and make a good imprecation and the day that I actually started the lady who haired me for the job kept giving me complement's and I was supposed to get paid by the end of the week but she paid me on the spot also on Friday she gave me extra cash my mom said it was because she like me and she was goanna have me come back every day when she on vacation since she also helps cleans the office

So, with that being said I was and will forever be Grateful for shiftblr and that one post with the person who yelled at me in a post also shook me I think I reblog that post not sure I'll probably go looking for it and ill added to this post or my introduction post but i strongly believe that if i didn't decide to leave shifttok then i would probably have woken up in this reality complaining about how i didn't shift or thinking i was doing a method wrong But now Im more focused on what i do/have in the 4D thank you for coming to my Journal entry

Also, from now on I'll be treated this blog as a journal because it kind of felt like that while I was writing this

oh, and thank you for being here on my journey

[allwaswell16]

[4 pics, 4 quotes, 4 iconic 1D fics]

Iconic fics by...

- jacaranda_bloom -

[1]

“That I’m tired of feeling like this. That I don’t want every day to make me want to scream and tear my hair out. That a healthy bank balance is all well and good but it’s worth nothing if I’m not actually living.”

Harry nods to himself. He gets it. He really does. And at this moment there’s nothing more he wants in the whole world than to take up this offer for the adventure of a lifetime with Louis. “Soooo…. wanna go live on an island at the bottom of the planet for six months with me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I really do,” Louis says, the smile evident in his voice.

“Shit. So we’re really gonna do this? Quit our jobs and just… disappear?”

“Mhmmmm… can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”

“Wow…” Harry gets up, feeling the urge to move around. “This is massive , Lou.” He goes over to the window and drags the curtains back only to be met with a view of another grey building opposite.

“Feels right though. Doesn’t it?”

[2]

A trill of chatter precedes his entry and he pokes his head around the doorway, a vast array of delicious treats laid out on the table along with crochet masterpieces in various states of completeness and nods to the room at large. “Afternoon ladies, oh, and gentlem-“

Louis' words die on his tongue as his gaze lands on the (literal) odd man out. His brain can’t process what he sees. The person is familiar but utterly out of place and it takes him a couple of stuttered heartbeats to realise just who it is. Or at least, who he thinks it is. But it can’t be. There’s just no way.

He blinks, trying to clear the apparition from his vision, but he doesn’t succeed because there, in the sitting room, with a tea cup in one hand, a saucer in the other, and an impressive crocheted blanket on his lap, is none other than man of dreams, Gucci model, and Louis’ current fake boyfriend: Harry Styles.

Louis stops breathing and briefly wonders if he’s having a psychotic break due to all the stress he’s been under at work. Or maybe he’s actually still asleep, laying peacefully up in his bed and this entire day has been nothing more than a dream state his overactive subconscious mind has conjured up in retribution for the lie he’s been perpetrating with his Nan.

[3]

This is ridiculous. Harry might not be into Kevin but he wasn’t into Louis either, obviously, so why on earth is there a little spark of hope blooming in his heart. This didn’t mean anything and has no impact on Louis other than extending this painful situation as Harry will now need to be matched with someone else and Louis can look forward to more days just like this one.

Liam drags a chair over and sidles up next to him, leaning his elbows on the desk. “Crack it open then. Let’s see what he said.”

Louis clicks on the email and tries desperately to hide the tremor in his fingers. He scrolls past all the stuff at the beginning, which is just a rehash of Harry’s profile details and the information about the match. They read over Harry’s response together in silence and it’s the longest, most winding, well-written rejection he’s ever seen. Yes. Rejection. Louis’ heart is in his throat. But what is of most interest is in the What Can We Do Better? section where clients can add information so they can refine the search criteria for them.

I guess what I’d like to say is that while Kevin was lovely, of course, and he matched the criteria I had given really well, there’s an intangible aspect I’m looking for. Something surprising. Something that challenges me. Something unexpected. It might be something in the way he laughs or smiles or holds himself or how he is with his friends and family. Something difficult to quantify on paper but so obvious and true when it’s in front of me. Sorry. I know I’m being vague, but I’ll know it when I see it. Thank you again for all your hard work and I look forward to meeting my next match. 

[4]

Louis walks over to the bed, coming up to the edge and holding out his phone. There’s a picture on his screen of Harry’s X-ray, but it’s not the original one Harry posted, this one has a red circle too. He doesn’t get it.

“I don’t get it. That’s my X-ray,” Harry says, a hint of worry creeping in. “Is there something on there that indicates a problem with my surgery?”

“Yes, it’s your x-ray, well spotted. And no, there’s no issue with your surgery. But do you see the giant red circle that someone has helpfully added?” Louis asks, voice scarily calm and Harry nods. “And do you see what it’s drawing attention to?”

Harry squints and Louis steps forward, knees hitting the edge of Harry’s bed. He’s really not sure what he’s looking at and his pain meds have really kicked up a notch in line with his stress levels. “No. Uhm. I don’t see it.”

“It’s your dick, mate,” Niall says from the other side of the room. “You’ve instagrammed your dick.”

Harry snatches Louis’ phone out of his outstretched hand and stares at the picture. Then he sees it. Right there, on the screen, big, and thick, and just there. “Oh fuck.”

- Answers below -

[1] No Going Back

Sales reps Harry and Louis are bored with their jobs and their lives. After meeting at a conference in Cardiff they hook up, have a few too many drinks, and jokingly apply to become remote lighthouse keepers. Six months, just the two of them, looking after the southernmost lighthouse off the bottom of Australia. It’s not like their applications will be accepted. Right?

This is the story of how one choice - a left instead of a right, a go instead of a stop, a yes instead of a no - can change the future forever and that sometimes, taking that leap of faith, is worth the risk.

[2] In A Twinkling

Louis’ Nan just wants him to be happy, to settle down with a nice boy, and bring him around for Christmas.

Louis is too busy with his career to bother about relationships, but in an attempt to appease his Nan, he sends her photoshopped pictures of him and his pretend boyfriend, Harry. The fact that the man in the pictures is none other than Harry Styles, world famous Gucci model—and recurrent star of Louis’ fantasies—is irrelevant. It’s not like their paths will ever cross…

So it comes as somewhat of a surprise when Louis returns home for Christmas and walks into his Nan’s sitting room only to find the real-life Harry Styles happily chatting away with the grey-haired ladies of his Nan’s Crochet Circle.

Featuring Niall and Liam as Louis’ childhood friends, Harry as the painfully perfect man of Louis’ dreams, Zayn as Harry’s very protective best mate, Louis’ Nan as a well-meaning matchmaker, and Louis as a guy who thinks he’s happy with his life, until a certain someone shows him what he’s been missing.

[3] Love, Ever After

One would assume that the charismatic omega in charge of the local matchmaking service would have found a mate and settled down ages ago. His clients, in fact, are always a bit surprised when they come to learn that Louis is still single. But Louis doesn’t mind, not really. His standards are just high; he is happy holding out for his alpha, his soulmate, and chooses to not waste his time with anyone else, despite what his friends might think.

That is, until his best mate from uni drags him out of bed far too early on a Saturday morning after a night of drinking to go to a farmers market, of all places. It’s there that he proceeds to make an utter fool of himself in front of the hottest alpha he has ever laid eyes on. There’s truly no coming back from that, is there?

OR The one where omega Louis makes love matches, alpha Harry makes cheese, and meddling friends might finally make their dreams of finding their soulmate come true.

[4] Player

Louis’ job should be simple. Harry Styles, one of the top ranking tennis players in the world, is every publicist's perfect client. He’s charismatic, enigmatic, and fit as fuck. The darling of the media, a national treasure, and a sponsor's wet dream. He’s also a goofball with the kindest heart, sweet, and polite, and singularly focused on achieving his goals.

There are just two minor problems. Firstly, Louis' debilitating crush on said client. And secondly, Harry has just accidentally Instagrammed a picture of his dick to his 18 million followers. So no, Louis’ job is anything but simple.

OR the one where Louis is Harry’s highly strung publicist and has a thing for his client, Harry is an international sports star and has a thing for his publicist, Liam and Zayn have a thing for each other, and Niall wishes everyone would just get their shit together.

@jacaranda-bloom

[soft-sounds-of-our-mortal-love]

Burn, Don't Freeze!

Premise, meeting Van at a Sleater- Kinney concert and getting her number! I imagined this in the Midwest somewhere, take your pick though. The year is 1999, so they’re touring for ‘The Hot Rock’. Also, collage made on Shuffles by moi ! Enjoy :)

You were hanging back by the bar while the openers played, nursing your third drink of the night. You felt sufficiently warmed up enough to start worming your way through the crowd to get as close to the front as you could. Tonight was a concert you had been waiting for for months. Originally intending to go with a friend who had told you earlier that day she was bailing. While you were anxious to go alone, you decided you couldn't miss Sleater-Kinney while they were in town, along with some encouragement from your friend. 

You downed the rest of the drink, and stood up just a little too fast off the stool, wobbling, and tried to grab the bar for support. You missed of course and went down, tripping in your boots. You braced for contact on the sticky floor, but it didn’t come. A strong pair of arms grabbing you by the waist and steadying you. “Hey, you alright?” You looked up to a redheaded stranger. 

They had on this worn in an oversized flannel that was soft under your hands. Their hair hung long down their back reflecting light somehow even in the darkness. An old scar ran across one cheek extenuating the cut of their cheekbones and jaw. You blinked dumbly, suddenly mute. Your overactive brain is working overtime to scrabble the words together. “You alright?” They repeated with a kind smile. “Shit, thank you, yeah.” You stood up using them to balance on your unsteady feet. You untangled yourself from them, “Don’t worry about it.” They said walking away and disappearing into the crowd. You kicked yourself for not saying something. They were entirely too cute for their own good. The way their hair swayed, the cut of their jeans, their smooth voice. You let out a sigh internally, ‘fuck.’ If felt like your brain was spiraling and the alcohol was definitely making you feel braver than usual. You steddied yourself before setting off into the crowd for a good spot, and a particular redhead. 

The opening act was done and the crowd started packing in as the stage got set up for Sleater-Kinney. It was starting to get a bit tight and you had to force yourself through and around people. “Sorry.” You slid by a group of butches and searched their faces for the stranger, with no luck. You moved on and passed a couple of university students but nothing there either. You cut left as you moved up further and were almost to the front when a guy you were trying to step around blocked you, almost hitting you in the process. “Excuse me.” You said and moved around him again, “I’m sorry, excuse me.”  He proceeded to block you again saying nothing, not even acknowledging you. You huffed and set your jaw tight about to pick a fight in your tipsy state but then out of the corner of your eye, you saw a flash of red. “Hey, come on man,” there was that same cool, smooth voice. The stranger held out their hand. “I’m over here.” You froze and watched as they nodded their head in confirmation with a smirk on their face. 

Your brain was having a hard time catching up, but you snapped back to reality, hardly believing your luck, and grabbed their hand. You only looked back to glare at the asshole behind you as you got pulled over by this knight in shining flannel. 

 “Do you usually need this much rescuing?” They grinned over at you. “Well, usually I’d say no, but tonight doesn’t seem to be my night.” You stepped a little closer, bumping your arms slightly, “Though, it seems like my luck is turning around.” They blushed and smiled but didn’t break eye contact with you. “Thank you, again by the way.” You added. “Least I could for a pretty girl in need.” Now you were blushing, your cheeks burning up. “What’s your name flirt?” Though you were nervous talking to someone you were so attracted to, the liquor damped some of those usual nerves, making you bolder. “Van, what’s yours?” They said, leaning down slightly, you could just barely feel their breath on the shell of your ear. “Y/N.” They gave a genuine smile, and it lit up their whole face. 

The band absolutely obliterated their set. You had a total rush. The music, the crowd, the lingering alcohol still in your system, the encroaching proximity of you and Van closing slowly. By the last song, you could feel their pinky just softly grazing your thigh as your shoulders bumped every couple of seconds. And the looks you would catch them in flustered the both of you. A magnetic pull drawing you both in. The lights flashed multicolored overhead, hundreds of people screaming, whooping, and hollering. 

The band said goodnight and the crowd slowly started dispersing, the sound of chatter filling the venue now. “That was fucking incredible, do you feel changed, I feel like a new woman.” You said turning to them, rambling in your excitement. They laughed. “I was transported to the astral plane.” “Don’t make fun,” you tapped them on the arm, “I just had a religious experience.” 

You were walking out the doors following the natural flow of people outside and down the street. You had covered your favorite album, favorite band other than S-K, and favorite member of the band. When you made it down the end of Mainstreet and stopped. 

“Shit, I gotta get home.” You looked down at the pavement, tracing the cracks, wishing for the night not to end. “Could I-” You both started in unison then stopped to laugh at yourselves. “Go ahead.” They said, “Well, I was just wondering if I could get your number?” The tips of their ears and cheeks bloomed red, “Funny you should say that, I’m kind of traveling around right now in my car, so I was going to ask for your number, so I could call you.” Your heart flipped and you giggled at them. “Yeah, yeah… um, you got a pen?” They fished one out from a random pocket, handing it over. Their fingers linger as they look over at you with cute expressions that make you feel slightly weak in the knees. You gently took their hand, pushed up the sleeve of their shirt, and wrote down your number, rubbing your thumb along the palm of their hand as you held it up. You felt their fingers flex and close around your hand. 

You looked up after finishing and capped the pen placing it in a front pocket on their flannel. “Don’t wash it off, call me tomorrow, Van.” “I will.” Their lips quirked up and their eyes shone under the city lights. Then, right before you went to pull away, you noticed the slight inching of their face to yours, their eyes locked downward at your lips. You closed the gap between you and heard the slight hitch of their breath. Their lips were cold and plush, their skin smooth and as your hand came up and looped itself in their soft hair you felt their hand smooth over your back pulling you closer. Everything around you falls away for just a moment as you kiss softly. You pulled away, unable to push down the huge smile on your face. 

“Fuck.” Van muttered your giddiness reflected back in their face. “Call me.” You kissed them one last time, unable to help yourself, and pulled away walking away to your apartment, looking back over your shoulder, praying you’d see them again.

[notthequiettype]

i've been trying for many years to get into meditation bc i have need-to-calm-the-fuck-down disease and sitting still and breathing thoughtfully while trying to dismiss thoughts i'm not having on purpose feels like the exact kind of torture that could Fix Me if only i could do it right

so this year i was like, i am going to meditate for five minutes a day every day bc trying to do it three times a week or whatever just meant that i was never doing it (it's easier to build a daily habit than any other kind! i have lived and learned! just do it every day!) and so i use the balance app which is fine but they're always wanting me to scan my body and i don't want to! i am in pain often! in ways that are not relievable! i do not need to be MORE aware of it! so i got one real good one once where my friend ofosu made me imagine a garden and like, build it and it was the first time i ever finished meditating and was like, oh shit i feel better??? but short visualization activities with the right ratio of leave-me-alone to guidance are impossible to find??? so i just started doing an unguided meditation and building my own garden or whatever and for me, this is doing exactly what i want meditation to do, it steadies my pulse, it makes me slow down, it takes me away from all the worries and thoughts that are in my mind normally bc i am actively thinking about something else, and it's lovely

but like two weeks ago, instead of a garden i got a Blorbo Image and i was like... huh... meditative blorbo thoughts... i can work with this, so every day i spend five minutes thinking about my special little paper dolls and i come out of it with all the benefits previously experienced doing visualization and i am here to recommend it to you!!

sit down in a quiet space and set a timer for five minutes, close your eyes, take a deep breath and Imagine Your Guys!! put them on a beach, put them in an airport lounge, put them in your favorite restaurant and invent a reason for them to be there, put them in the backyard of your dream home and throw a party

the secret i think is the timing and also that you need to be building an IMAGE, when i get distracted and like, think too much dialogue i find that i do not feel as ~clear afterward, it's fine that they talk (and ymmv in all of this ofc) but i have to break it up with more scenery and detail than i would when i am writing which is good for my brain AND my writing which has been fun

ANYWAY, tips from someone with an overactive brain to you, it is very important when times are as hard as they are for many of us atm to let yourself breathe and actively think about anything else so i hope you do that in whatever way works for you

[ideas-4-stories]

One piece story idea where Buggy has had medical issues since he was a baby, but most of them went unknown, undiagnosed, or not caught early enough to "make a difference".

Buggy with an autoimmune disorder of some kind (leaning to fibromayalgia bc I love projecting on my baby blue blorbo, but also the overactive nerves would tie in nicely with his devil fruit)

Buggy with hypermobility at the very least, possible Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, but it's damn near impossible to properly diagnose due to his DF and the tech available by and large.

On the Oro Jackson, few genuinely believed when Buggy would say something hurt or felt wrong or when he was more foggy headed than usual. Shanks could always read him like an open book. Roger could hear the changes in his youngest's Voice. Crocus did the best he could, but his options were limited and his attention was split. It was Roger, Rayleigh and Shanks who were Buggy's main support system.

Roger absolutely cried the first time Buggy got injured in a big fight and casually relocated a joint with just a soft hiss. That alone had been jarring, but Buggy's response to Shanks' worried question of "are you okay, does it hurt-," left the captain biting back tears. How else is a father supposed to feel when his little boy simply rolls hod eyes and says "not much more than normal"

When Roger disbanded the crew, the plan was to leave the boys on Drum. It had good doctors, Buggy would get more support, and it was rarely an island under siege due to the medical renown it had. They of course did not tell the boys as such, and it was only through a series of wacky events that lead Kureha to meeting them and taking a liking to their sparks. Shanks wasn't the most interested in medicine but he learned some things, specifically first aid and some things to help Buggy. He actually found psychology pretty interesting when he had the patience and attention span to spare. Buggy on the other hand took to it all like a fish to water.

They were there for almost two years when the newspaper was delivered and both boys lost their SHIT when the headline announced the execution of their captain, their father. Kureha sent them off, arguably with more supplies than they needed, and gave them her Denden number to reach her if they needed anything at all. She couldn't go with them, but she refused to send them truly alone.

They have their fight in the plaza, but it doesn't end with a monumental break up. They meet back up the next day, and they bite the bullet together and talk.

They take some time to come to a decision moving forward.

They ultimately decide to go with the co-captain avenue but with careful misdirection and smoke and mirrors. To the world at large, they will seem completely independent and unrelated. In truth, they will be leveraging their independent skills to further themselves and each other. The brains and brawn, as it were.

It works out in their favor for a good deal of time until the cluster fuck that is marineford. Secrets are out, identities revealed, and Buggy is having 6395716 panic attacks stacked up like Legos.

He and Shanks roll with it as best they can, trying to salvage what they feasibly could.

Two years later, Cross Guild is formed and begins rolling. Buggy's crew knows of his illnesses/disabilities, but he has a strict set up to address them. It's on a need to know basis.

Crocodile and Mihawk just so happened to swirl in like a hurricane and never got the memo until there was an attack on the island.

Somehow, someway, Buggy got absolutely soaked in sea water, but he's still fighting, knives in hand, bobbing and weaving with a trail of blood in his wake. It's as he pivots to lunge that Mihawk catches sight of him suddenly paling, a minute flinch, but beyond that, Buggy doesn't react, instead throwing the knife, reaching down and making a strange move at his knee before he cringed, took a sharp inhale, and dove back into the fray.

Upon asking why, hours later in the meeting tent, the swordsman and mafioso present blink when Buggy shrugs and says "oh, my knee cap tried to dislocate. Couldn't disconnect with the sea water so I had to push it back by hand."

"Pardon?"

"Hm?" Buggy glances up from where he's brushing some dried remnants of the battle from his locks, one eye shut against the debris. "What?"

"What caused the injury? I did not see any attacks to your legs in the chaos."

"Oh, it just happens sometimes," Buggy says casually, as if this were knowledge the other two ought to know. "I'm used to it."

They are not sure what to do, nor how to respond. They let it rest for the time being but they do keep a closer eye on their chairman following this.

They learn Buggy is rather adept at working with and around his unusual burdens, either disconnecting a joint or alleviating pressure on it until it can be addressed, even chop-chopping the offending area back to the proper place. They catch sight, now that they know to look, of hints of braces, wraps, the way Buggy occasionally presses his iced drink to a knee, a wrist, on an ankle in movements familiar but exceedingly casual, never belying their true purpose.

It is then that the two dark haired men realize there is much more to their clown than they first assumed.

I agree that overactive nerves would tie nicely with his Devil Fruit. Buggy having medical issues that went unknown, undiagnosed, or wasn’t caught early enough would make sense after all if the HC that Buggy was with the Roger Pirates as a baby or even if he wasn’t with them during his infant stage. These are pirates, how are they supposed to know that they need to look for things that could be wrong with the two babies they now have?

I’m sure some of them have things that have went unknown and undiagnosed. Anyway, back to Buggy, I had to look up Ehlers Danlos Syndrome because I didn't know what it was. I agree that it would be nearly impossible to diagnose properly because of no good tech around, as well as the fact he is on a pirate crew, I assume for the most pirate crews they don't stick around island for very long. I HC that Buggy swallowed the Bara Bara Fruit when he was nine.

Poor Buggy, I want to think that more people on the crew understood that Buggy has problems but didn’t how they could help him. Because acting like Buggy was fragile would make Buggy become angry because kid doesn’t want to be treated like that.

Poor Roger, having to watch that without saying anything, with all the other times it happened. Then after he disbanded the crew. Leaving them on Drum Island is a good choice and it makes sense that they didn’t tell the boys (I feel like they don’t tell the boys many things that should of been talked about, but this might be a good thing they didn’t say anything about. But who knows)

I wonder what the series of wacky events were to the meeting between them and Kureha? To me, they seemed like it there in this AU.

I think anyone would lose their shit if they see someone, they really love is getting murdered in front of so many people. I feel that Kureha only let them go because she knew they would go anyway, and this way let’s her give Buggy and Shanks the supplies they need.

I believe that with all the stress and pain of losing someone they hold dear in their hearts. I think Buggy wasn’t in the right mind set nor was Shanks in a way. Anyway, Love that they came back around to talk about it. I think the smoke & mirrors co-captain route they have… or is it more like Buggy and Shanks are allies? They have their own crews, but they still have each.

Then Marineford happened, poor Buggy and Shanks. I hope in this AU that Ace lives, but it was never stated so I don't know.

The idea that Buggy's crew knows about his illnesses/disabilities makes me feel that his followers would say he so strong to overcome them or we just talking about Buggy's crew from East Blue. Then yeah, those folks definitely know about his illnesses/disabilities.

Mihawk and Crocodile coming in without any knowledge and it took a battle to find out. I can see Buggy is nonchalantly about it as Mihawk did a doubletake when he said ‘Pardon?’ Crocodile did a doubletake too, because with those two didn’t know.

Once Crocodile and Mihawk know about what’s going on with Buggy, they see that the signs were always there. It’s just they didn’t paid attention to those signs, but they are.

[exquisink]

Fated Divergence, Ch. 3 // Yandere! Suguru Geto X Non-Sorcerer Darling

AO3 (+ prev. chapter)

When Satoru examined the parking deck, he sensed a surge of overactivity from low grade curses. Many which he could exorcise himself in practically nanoseconds. He recognized a few—and he knew that Geto had visited here, after all.

Hospitals were already a breeding ground for curses, but there had to be some other trick of Geto’s sleeve. There needn’t any reason to add more chaos here.

When he saw him with you, he wondered what Suguru could want, because on the surface, you didn’t seem like anyone who stood out.

Until he met you the other day, of course, because even he couldn’t deny, he sensed some kind of power dormant within you. Not cursed energy, or anything of the sort… in fact he didn’t have a word for it. The power coming from you felt like a purity, something untouched, untainted even from the horrors you must face as a nurse here and in general as a human being. Perhaps Geto sensed that as well, because above all nothing got the guy’s dick harder than a powerful tool.

Somehow he doubted Geto wanted you for a tool, though; it didn’t seem so.

Maybe not in the traditional sense.

“What’s your game, Suguru?” he mused out loud as he exorcised a demon just before him, one that Geto unleashed himself. He paused, glancing over at a car that he recognized had severe damage to the rear-end of it. Tilting his head, he inched closer.

That didn’t look like damage from a typical accident…  upon further inspection, the bumper had some indentations, like something bit it.

…and then he noticed a cursed spirit attached to the roof of the car, inside.

Grumbling, he managed to absorb that one as well.

“Gojo?”

He turned on his heel, and found you, with a dumbfounded expression on your face.

“Uh, yeah, we still don’t know who did that.” You gestured to the damage to your car. “I’m taking it to the shop tomorrow to get it repaired.”

So, it was your car then.

“Ah. Sorry, I guess I let curiosity get the better of me,” Satoru replied, adjusting his blindfold. “You already done for the day?”

You shook your head. “Nah, I’m just on break.”

Satoru grinned, resting his hand against your car like he owned it. “Oh, yeah? So, what do you do on break? Surely not to chat it up with beautiful men like me?”

Oh, he hoped you bought into the act. He knew how to play it cool when necessary.  

You eyed him with a hint of confusion before glancing down at what you held in your hands.

“Hide in my car from people and eat my lunch…”

He glanced at your bento box, and then back at the car, and then back at you, who looked drained as hell from a tough shift that wasn’t even over yet for you. His face fell.

He could take a hint!

Sort of…

“Oh, well then pardon me for intruding on your alone time. I was just exploring.”

“Right,” you remarked, your tone incredulous while taking out a slip of paper and scribbling something down. “If you wanted my number, you could just ask instead of doing all of this extra shit.”

He stared for a moment, a little befuddled. Did he expect more resistance? Maybe a tad.

Well, he did need your number, but not for the reasons you were possibly thinking.

Even if you were beautiful. He knew better than to do anything. Even now, he wasn’t about to meddle in his ex best friend’s love life.

Not unless he had to save you from a gruesome fate—being in Suguru’s radar was already a prescription (heh, he couldn’t help it) for disaster.

He felt a certain responsibility toward you, just like he still felt a responsibility for Suguru. Suguru wasn’t himself anymore by a longshot—even what he preached now didn’t align with what he believed in once before.

It was almost like putting young teenagers on the front lines to do an adult’s job was damaging to a young brain. Now Suguru became a shell of himself, a slave to the negative emotions he consumed from humans.

Realizing he was still staring at you, he adjusted himself. No need to make this situation more awkward for either you or him than it already became.

“Sorry,” he replied with a bashful smile, rubbing the back of his head as he accepted the slip with his free hand. “Well, that was easier than I thought it was going to be. You don’t seem like the type of lovely lady who impresses easy.”

You snorted. “You thought correct. I was half expecting you to reject me because you were taking so long to say something.”

“No! Of course not. Who could pass someone like you up?” He waved as he gave you some space. “Well, stay safe, alright?”

Stay safe? Seriously? He berated himself in his mind as he retreated, refraining from wanting to smash his head into something. Wouldn’t that just spike her anxiety up even more…?  

-- -- -- -- --

Peaceful sleep didn’t come to you that night.

You woke up in cold sweats, panting as you tried to remember you were safe then. Whatever you dreamed about, it couldn’t hurt you. But what you saw… it felt too real, yet you didn’t want to believe in this spiritual whoo-whoo shit. Not until you had enough evidence, because you weren’t about to fall for this shit.

Still…

It felt like numerous eyes from a monster glared back at you, and while you tried to sleep, it felt like hands roamed all over your body, exploring your most intimate parts.

Sleep paralysis? This didn’t feel like sleep paralysis at all.

But somehow you still didn’t believe in whatever horse shit Suguru Geto and the sort of people he attracted believed in.

You sighed, laying back in bed, pondering your options.

Then incessant buzzing of your phone had you jump in your spot.

At this hour? You glanced at the time on your lock screen. It’s 3AM…

Gojo: Hey. It’s Satoru Gojo. 😎

Oh, right. You’d given him his number. Maybe you were hoping for something to come out of this, but you doubted anything would. You idly wondered what he looked like without his blindfold on—he seemed full of it when it came to his appearance, so he better be able to back up those claims.

Smiling in spite of everything, you texted him back.

You: Hey, Gojo. Can’t sleep?

Gojo: eh, my bedtime’s not for another hour

You did a double take at the time.

You: you sleep at 4AM?

Gojo: and get up at 7 🫡

You: you in the military or something?

Gojo: in a way, but no

Gojo: hey listen, be careful around suguru

You quirked an eyebrow at that. Again with the cryptic bullshit? You had little patience for it but decided not to pry.

You: I don’t really trust the guy anyway?

Gojo: good. He’s more dangerous than you think, alright? If you need anything, call me

You: thanks, gojo

You eventually managed to get some sleep.

You decided you’d endure those nightmarish ghouls for now.

-- -- -- -- --

“Your patient died,” Mei announced as you entered the clinic the next day. The toll last night’s broken sleep took on you was evident—deeper set bags under your eyes, your face looked pale, like you’d just seen explicit horrors you couldn’t describe. Which wasn’t far off.

You glanced up at her, perking an eyebrow.

“Which one? I treat every patient on this floor,” you reminded her.

She froze, unsure of how to approach the matter, clearly.

“The young girl, Asuka Tanaka. The one who was supposed to be discharged today.”

Your eyes widened as the realization dawned on you, and you wanted to deny it.

“She was perfectly healthy!” you reasoned, and you tried to shake off the emotion from your tone, but you couldn’t. Why that little girl and not any of your patients on the verge of dying, anyway? That would have been at least easier news to break to their families, but how would their parents react to their perfectly healthy daughter dying when she was suppsoed to go home?

“We know,” she sighed. “We don’t understand what happened. One of our other nurses found her… and it was…”

“What happened to her?” you demanded.

“We don’t understand. Not fully,” she replied, tone steady and careful. “But it looked like someone came to…”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, unable to listen or even make out what Mei was telling you, but you knew better than to get too emotional in the workplace. You had no choice. You always delivered this type of news to patients and patients’ familiies every damn day, but why did this feel so sudden to you?

“Do her parents already know?” you found yourself asking, as your lower liip quivered. That poor girl was barely 6 years old.

“Yes, they came in this morning to pick her up…”

“Oh God,” you sighed, trying to steel yourself from these emotions. You had a shift to finish first before you could fully process what happened. This was just part of it all, unfortunately.

“We’ll have dinner soon this week, yeah? On me.”

You smiled, having turned off your emotions for now. Came with the profession. “Sounds good. Thanks.”

“So wait,” Mei began, and you paused, becknoning her to continue. “Who was that guy you spoke to the other day?”

“Still so invested in my love life? At a time like this?”

Mei couldn’t help but sigh.

“Listen! Mine is nonexistent so I’m living vicariously through yours. Forgive the abrupt change of topic, but I just wanted to know, and perhaps it’ll serve as a distraction for you too.”

You pursed your lips. Typical Mei, all about the gossip.

“He was just asking me about Crazy Cult Man.”

“Is he a wanted man, or something? Well… in some cases, that’s true,” Mei hummed, “Lots of people joined that cult just because he’s hot.”

You shrugged. “Like Hell if I know. That guy just kept warning me away from him, but it’s not like I’m interested.”

“Damn, if you’re not, do you mind sharing with me?”

You groaned at her antics, rubbing your temples. Way too early for this shit!

“Mei!”

“Can you blame a girl for trying?” she pouted those pretty red lips of hers. If Mei had a little more confidence, she could get any guy she ever wanted.  

“You’re impossible.”

She shrugged. “You love me anyway.”

“Alright, you doofus. I’ll see you later.”

You had to put on your big girl pants and finish the rest of this goddamn shift. You had some new patients come in from last night, something about a lot of vomitting and nausea and a whole other plethora of symptoms that didn’t point to anything untreatable, at the very least.

What you didn’t expect to find as some new patients was two twin girls sharing a room, having fallen ill. Those two girls whose caretaker happened to be—

“—Suguru? What a…surprise to see you here.” No, you weren’t all that surprised. But you were surprised to find that he really did take care of twin girls, and it wasn’t just an act.

“Ah, I didn’t think I’d run into you again so soon,” Suguru replied. “It seems that my girls got some food poisoning from that bakery, so we had to take them here.”

Those two girls didn’t look too pleased to be here from their expressions. They looked fearful, but you figured that was expected. Nobody liked being in the hospital, even for something as typical as food poisoning. That and they still seemed young, teenagers at most, and everything about the hospital seemed scary.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you replied, surprised that you could keep an even tone. “The doctor will be here soon, but judging by the severity of the food poisoning, it looks like your girls are going to be here for a few days.”

The twin with the brown hair glanced at Suguru. “That bites…”

“I told you not to eat too many of those Danishes,” he chastisted like a stressed out father would. You would smile at the scene if you didn’t know what sort of person Suguru was. Which you only had an idea, but that was enough to go off of for you.

“They were too good to pass up, Geto!” The other twin, who had blonde hair, replied.

“We’re sorry, Geto,” the blonde twin added.

“It’s alright, Nanako. I just hope you’ve learned your lesson this time around. We can’t keep losing money to things like this.”

Hospital bills definitely aren’t a joke, you mused to yourself. Even for someone as rich as Geto.

“So you already know this person, Geto?”

“Yes, Mimiko. She’s also fond of those Dansihes you both like so much.” It sounded like he was trying to sell them on the idea of you. Suguru glanced at you while he was speaking to his twins, and you felt something churn in your stomach. You swore you wanted to vomit yourself right then; something about his presence overwhelmed you, overstimulated you in the worst way.

He frowned, sensing your discomfort. With an all knowing glint in his eyes, he spoke up.

“Having nightmares lately, my dear?”

You froze.

“How did…?” you trailed off, feearing the answer.

“You look exhausted fighting it off,” he explained. He observed what was around you, the same way Gojo did when you met him. So there were things going on around you? You didn’t believe in this stuff, but if it was going to help you…

“You felt like numerous eyes were looking upon you. You woke up in cold sweats. Do you want me to help?”

You stared blankly at him. “Are you saying you can do something about this?”

“I can put it all to rest. Just leave it to me.” He glanced at the twins. “Watch closely, my loves.”

Within seconds, you felt your exhaustion vanish into thin air as he acted as though he absorbed something from you.

“Let me know if you sleep better tonight.”

You didn’t know how to react.

 “Alright. Well, let’s focus on your twins’ recovery.”

You glanced out the door to find the doctor down the hall.

“She’s almost here,” you continued. “I’ll step out for her.”

“I must get going, my loves,” Suguru announced, planting a kiss to the crowns of both of their heads. “Be nice to those treating you. Should everything go well, you’ll be back home by tomorrow at the earliest.”

He followed you out the door as the doctor stepped into that room.

You turned around. “Yes?”

“I’d very much enjoy if you stopped by the temple sometime. The girls are eager to get to know you. I saw it on their faces.”

“Th-that’s very kind of you to offer, Suguru, but—!”

He raised a hand to stop you, and you knew better than to test his patience.

“I insist, darling. I’d love for you to come after the girls feel all better from your clinic’s top-notch treatment. Them getting sick felt like the perfect opportunity to take them here even if I could treat them at home.”

“I don’t recommend that at all. If it was a mild case of food poisoning, then perhaps, but—!”

“—I believe you’re just the nurse here, darling. We’ll see what the doctor orders.”

No man alive was ever allowed to talk to you like that. You swore you felt a nerve snap, but you refrained from showing too much emotion. You doubted you could do much to deter or intimdate him, anyway.

“Might I have your phone for a moment?”

You knew better than to reject him. You offered your phone with a new contact page open for him to enter.

“Thank you, my dear. I sent a text to myself so I got yours as well.” He flashed his own phone.

Fantastic… you thought, biting back a sigh.

“We'll see you tomorrow, then."

“Very well. Until tomorrow, darling.

-- -- -- -- --

The night fell silent. You relaxed in your bed, focusing on your breath work. It was part of a therapy exercise you learned some time ago, something to help calm your nerves and help you sleep.

Something you so desperately needed.

Unfortunately, your quiet time was interrupted by your text message notification.

Groaning, you swiped your phone from the nightstand and saw who it was from.

Gojo: hey, just checking in

You: hey. I could be better for sure

Gojo: what’s up?

You: we lost a young patient today. No more than 6 years old.

Gojo: god, that’s terrible. What happened?

You: no one really knows, honestly.

Gojo began to call. You answered with a defeated sigh.

“Hey. Figured hearing a voice would be better than measly text,” he greeted over the line.

You giggled, your voice dripping in sarcasm. “My hero.”

“Feel free to call me that all you want!”

You giggled again. He was actually kind of funny.

“Are you going to be okay?” His tone seemed genuinely concerned.

“I will be. I’m just so sad for her.”

“You never get used to it, huh? The loss.”

“Not at all,” you replied. “Doesn’t matter what anyone says about professions like these.”

“I can definitely understand. Hey, like I said, I’m a call away.”

“Hey, wait, Gojo…” You bit your lip. Should you say anything at all?

“What’s up?”

“Geto came by the hospital today too.”

A pause. A long, uncomfortable pause. That same churning feeling in your stomach returned. Weren’t you supposed to say something?

“He did?”

“Yeah, his twins got sick with food poisoning,” you explained. “They’re still there.”

“Thanks for telling me.”

Should you keep going?

“He… he kept inviting me to his temple.”

“Don’t go,” he replied a little too quickly. You paused this time. Of course not. Why the hell would you ever want to go there?  

“I know,” you assured him, sighing. “But… if he really is as dangerous as you say, what if he tries something?”

“I’m here,” he told you, tone gentle and confident—like he appeared to be. “Don’t worry.”

“You’re laying it on real thick, Gojo,” you found yourself saying while chuckling.

“Hey, I’m just happy to help those in need.”

You couldn’t help the smile on your face.

“Thanks for checking on me, Gojo. But enough about me. How are you?”

You spoke on the phone for a bit, before Gojo had to hang up—something urgent with his job came up, he mentioned, and that he would check up on you later in the week. You fell back in your bed, staring up at the ceiling. He seemed like a genuine guy, but you doubted anything would escalate.

That night, in spite of the terrible day, you slept like a baby. Completely out like a light. No nightmares, no eyes, no creatures, no cold sweats… nothing. It still didn’t mean you believed in any of this; perhaps it was just coincidence. Nothing beyond that.

You weren’t going to seek Geto’s help for anything.

You knew much, much better than that.

-- -- -- --

“Hello, Nanako, Mimiko,” you greeted the next day when it was time to check their vitals.

“Hello,” Mimiko responded in a robotic tone.

“Are we set to go home yet?” Nanako asked, “Hospital stays are so boring!”

You chuckled, “We’ll see if the doctor says you’re ready to go.”

“Awwww,” Nanako huffed.

“You’re so dramatic, Nanako,” Mimiko quipped, “Geto influences you too much with those theatrics of his.”

“Speaking of, did he come to see you today?”

“He’s on his way,” Mimiko responded with a nod. “Geto looks like he really likes you, ma’am.”

“If Geto likes you then we have to like you,” Nanako piped in with an animated expression. “He has great judge of character.”

“Does he now?” you inquired, but you didn’t expect anyone to answer that—mostly talking to yourself.

“Ah! Hello, my loves,” Suguru waltzed in with some bouquets of flowers. “I have bought these for my girls, and a bouquet for you, my love. You seemed like the daisy type?”

Of course he was right about that.

You accepted the bouquet graciously, never mind the tightness you felt in your chest. “That’s kind of you, Suguru.”

You were definitely planning on tossing those straight in the trash.

You set them aside.

“Have you considered my offer, my dear?” Suguru asked, and you froze. You weren’t looking forward to answering this because you weren’t sure how he would handle rejection. You had to do this… smoothly.

As delicately as possible, like you were handling some fine China.

“I’m afraid there’s no room in my schedule right now to visit any time soon.”

“Ah, that is a shame,” Suguru replied with a click of his tongue. “We’ll work things out, I’m sure. The girls are eager to know you more after you treated them. Isn’t that right, my loves?”

The two twins nodded.

“She’s nice,” Mimiko stated. Suguru petted her head.

“Indeed.”

Using his twins as leverage over you? Oh, that was just diabolical.

Once you took the twin’s vitals, you stepped out of their room with your new bouquet in hand, taking it to your office to dump it into the trash. Your heart pounded out of your chest. At the very least, it didn’t seem likely that Suguru would cause any havoc in this setting. But now he had other means to torment you, and he hadn’t tried just yet.

You feared for the worst—and a part of you feared for your life.

[kpoptrashlord-007]

The spray bottle squeaks out a few more splurts of all-purpose cleaner onto the kitchen counter. Just another thing for the monumental list of tasks you’ve acquired today. Taking a few paper towels, you scrub the quartz as if it personally victimised your entire family. There’s no laundry detergent either, not after all the bedding loads this morning. Did you turn on the dishwasher? It was loaded and you remember adding the tablet but there’s no tell-tale whirling nor incessant gurgling filling the room. 

“Shoot, shoot, shoot!” you grumble, turning on your heels. 

Steam escapes the machine’s vents – the drying cycle. One less thing to worry about. Though you didn’t have quite enough space to include the juice pitcher, for which you need to buy a few more instant tea packs. There’s a shopping list for all this, a simple way to give your mind a break, but then there’s also the counter. The spray is oh-so-patiently waiting to be wiped down. 

On autopilot your feet carry you to the fridge and the scrambled list clipped to it. In a scrawl near illegible you add what you remember: detergent, carpet cleaner, oh!, regular cleaner too, toothpaste, and…

What was the other thing?

“Honey,” Yunho calls, his voice breaking through the muck and mire of your overactive brain. His arm wraps around your waist as he presses a soft kiss to your temple. “Are you okay?”

With a clap you add ‘tea’ to the list. “Ah, you’re a lifesaver!”

He snorts. “I don’t know what I did but I’m happy to be of service.”

Slipping free of his embrace you return to the counter and the war you’re waging against it. After a solid minute it sparkles. Most of the kitchen does by this time of day, though it never lasts long. Dinner is right around the corner so the dishes will inevitably pile back up, and wouldn’t it be nice to bake some cookies for dessert? If only there was some–

“My little hummingbird”—large hands clasp yours, holding you in place before you can flit away once more—“let me take care of it.”

“Oh, it’s fine, really. Now for dinner I was thinking–”

“I’ll take care of it,” he insists, gently pulling you to his chest. Once more his arms wrap around your frame. Warmth encases you as he rocks you back and forth. The buzz slows and dulls, allowing a sense of serenity to wash through you. “I’ll take care of you.”

[jlfletcher]

All I Really Want Is You

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: bullet wounds, mentions of potential death (no one dies, just a small injury during a mission). This is told in 3rd person limited POV (of Miguel, mostly?). One-sided kind of. Reader can speak Spanish (is that considered a warning?).

Summary: This is how it all began for Miguel. From mere coincidence to something more. (Fluff/Romance)

Excerpt: "He realizes something and it’s inarguable in his mind... Out of all the Spiders, you’re the anomaly."

A/N: This narrative is actually repurposed from my friend's spidersona story. It didn't have any romance in it originally but my version does and the more I wrote, the more it diverged from their initial story. They said they liked this version and gave me the go ahead to post it because they'll probably never share their's anyway.

Special thank you to my friend who edited this thing. I'm grateful that they were able to help me turn my messy notes and ramblings in a cohesive story.

I get really inspired by music. So, if I do continue to publish installments of this story, they'll most likely be written with songs included.

Also, I'm sorry if there are any mistakes. I've never had to format such a long post like this on here before.

Word Count: 13.9k (This is a slow burn)

Breakdown

I'm overworking 'til the sundown

Don't see the light inside my head now

There’s a faint buzzing sound that fills Miguel’s workspace. His eyes are a bit bloodshot and itchy from his lack of blinking. He’s grown irritated by now after hours of surveillance and Lyla badgering him to just take a break already. He keeps swatting her away with languid flicks of his wrist while sighing and rubbing his temple. There’s an ache in his head that’s dull yet ever-present but he feels like rest will not come to him anytime soon. He also remembered that he wanted to run diagnostics on a few of his lab’s systems that would ultimately take a while. The testing is usually run automatically but he’s disabled the scheduled maintenance cycle in order to have tasks to do when he's restless like now. Unfortunately for Miguel’s overactive mind, things have mellowed out in the multiverse for the time being. He's been trying to fill his time as he waits for something, anything to happen. It's caused him to grow a bit on edge as of late. Yes, there are still plenty of anomalies to be dealt with but he’s found the late hours to have grown more quiet. It seems that the uncharacteristic silence has planted an eerie feeling in him that he just can’t shake. What if the moment he steps away, something arises? Lyla calls him paranoid but truthfully, he can’t take the risk of complacency.

Eventually, he plops into his chair and prepares to stare at the monitors for another who knows how many hours. He glances over the society’s various CCTV displays in a sluggish attempt at monitoring the building. Yet, something catches his attention. His eyes zero in on a lone figure in the engineering lab. He blinks a bit slowly and scoots closer to take a better look while disregarding the buttons on the control panel in front of him that actually allows him to zoom in on the feed. The thought had completely escaped his foggy brain thanks to his chronic sleep deprivation. Languidly, his eyes flicker to the time and back up. 4:13 am.

I need to see you in my window

There’s not a doubt in Miguel’s mind about what or more accurately who it may be. It’s your form hunched over the workbench. Your signature pair of shoes gives you away entirely. Frankly, it’s not a surprise at this point. This may be the fourth or fifth time he's noticed your presence at such an unorthodox hour. You always tend to stay late at HQ because of your own odd sleeping schedule. He’s overheard you mention to Jess that your universe has a slight daytime shift compared to the others but he didn’t consider it to be by this much. This was nonetheless a preferred choice of company, albeit in an entirely different area of the building from him, because you're quiet and focus on your work. He's not entirely sure if the two of you have interacted for more than a single minute. Perhaps, that's why he prefers you over others. He's never actually spoken to you outside of very few mission assignments and reports. You've caught his eye before. At first, he noticed you were a bit too quiet. It initially caused suspicion to sew itself within his brain. However, after a brief investigation into you performed by Lyla, he concluded that it's simply the way you behave. Now, when you catch his eye he assumes it's due to how you carry yourself relative to others, professional and efficient. Despite the distance between you two, both figurative and literal in this moment, he finds himself watching you through one of the many floating windows before him. His fingers finally slither among the control panel to switch to a different camera in the lab. After flicking through a couple of feeds, the screen changes to an angle that shows your face. Perhaps he's a bit too tired in this instance because his hazy brain barely registers the way his breath hitches in his throat momentarily.

He's seen your bare face only once before and it summoned the same reaction from him. He's taken aback by how you look. It's a bit of a surprise in all honesty. You're so, for lack of a better term, different. And that's not claimed in some common colloquial way. You are literally different. Here at the society, a handful of faces are circulated between the Spiders. However, yours is unique and undoubtedly you. He's only ever come across one of you, the one that's sitting and tinkering in one of his labs. The last and only time he saw your bare face was a fleeting glance before you quickly shoved your mask back on. He assumes you're a bit shy because of it. However, now he can take his time to really analyze your features. He sees how your brows pinch in concentration and how your eyes look a bit red. Ah, it appears you haven't been blinking properly like him either. He sees how your tongue gently swipes out from your mouth before you nip at your bottom lip. Your hands work on repairing a circuit board with your eyes focused on the corrosion you wipe off. He watches you for a while as you work, finding intrigue in the way you do such mundane tasks as repairing a PCB and reassembling a gadget. Eventually, you sit up and stretch a bit, before rubbing your face in what he collects as either exhaustion or boredom. He understands the feeling, truly. Yet his eyes widen a bit as your eyes look at the camera and he finds himself perking up when he sees you smile. He then zooms out to see that you’re conversing with Lyla. Despite the quick misunderstanding, he finds himself enjoying the scene before him. You speak to her so calmly and casually. Do you often speak with her? Many thoughts start to pop up in his mind about you and your overall enigmatic behavior. Your smile triggers hyperactivity to blossom in his mind, his thoughts reeling at the way you look. Your lips pinch together softly as one side of your mouth curls a bit more than the other. Your brows raise as you speak with Lyla, your contentment is evident. He's caught up in the details of your face and it's nearly instinctual the way the corners of his lips twitch in a subconscious attempt to mirror yours.

And I whisper

All I really want is you

What would you do?

He has formed this habit of watching you in the late nights and early mornings. At first, it was mere coincidence when his eyes lingered on you, maybe even out of some sense of caution, but now he finds himself seeking you out after a month of noticing your constant presence. Lyla teased him about being a creep but he usually just replies with a grunt or the occasional snarky comment. Every night you’re working on something and his curiosity is piqued. However, it appears you work efficiently given how it seems to be a new project every few nights or so. His eyes flutter a bit as he sees Lyla appear next to you. Judging by the way you react to her arrival, it’s just for a chat. He notices how your hands rest over one another in front of you as you nod at what Lyla says, laughing and blinking softly at her. You’re polite when listening, putting down whatever you’re working on to give her your attention. The only assumption he's made from it being that you're simply kind. His eyes are attracted to the way your thumbs twiddle around one another absentmindedly. Do you often fidget like that? He tries to think back on the previous times he witnessed your hands when they were not busy, which is not a common occurrence. And as he watches you, he strokes the panel button under his own thumb subconsciously as if it were the back of your hand. He’s only managed to conclude one thing about them and it’s not about how you fidget.

He mutters to himself deeply in observation, “Pequeñas.”

He looks at your hands, pixelated by the monitor, and then down at his own much bigger ones. He ponders momentarily about just how small they truly are. He's certain that if he were to measure them, the entire length would barely reach 7 inches while his are well past 9, probably even past 10 in actuality. If you placed your palm against his, his hand would completely dwarf yours. If you placed your palm against his... what would it fit like? What would it feel like? What would you do if he held your hand? Wait… why is he thinking about that?

“But,” he mumbles softly as he watches you walk off with Lyla in tow, “I think…”

Laying in the rain with you

Middle of June

It’s been two months since he fully took notice of you that night with his full attention; the night he seen you truly as yourself for the first time. From what Lyla has mentioned, you’ve been here almost every night since you joined the society. It doesn’t bother him that he hadn’t noticed you for so long. To him, it made sense. He often found himself drowned in work. Things were hectic for a while, a long while, but luckily during these past few months, things have been relatively easy. Emergency missions in the middle of the night have been few and far between and usually required only one person to complete them which is why Miguel has been manning the fort all by his lonesome for some time now. However, the only other spider permitted to be at HQ during the overnight hours is you thanks to your completely reversed day-night schedule. The two of you have been on a handful of late night missions together throughout this time but he has yet to speak to you about anything not regarding work. It’s a bit strange if he’s being truthful. You may be the only spider that has never spoken to him casually, ever. Sure, he’s suspected you are antisocial but he hadn’t anticipated it to be by this much. You don’t stand out, you stay focused on your work, and you never talk to anyone. Well, that last one isn’t too unbelievable given the fact that you’re only ever here when everyone else isn’t. Miguel can’t help but wonder if you have ever spoken to anyone in the Society without the intention of completing your professional duties? The closest to such an instance was the one time he heard you speak to Jess which was also the first time he had ever seen you. Jess was going to introduce you to him but he was busy having an argument with Hobie. It never grew to be physical but his shouting certainly must have put you off considering he never saw you around again after that. It makes sense, truthfully, since that was your first impression of him. You must think he's always shouting, irritated, and highly intolerant of disobeying his instruction. That is what he was yelling about at the time after all. Well, that is until he noticed you lingering around the building at night. Honestly, you weren’t even a thought in his mind until Lyla sent him a debriefing of you just before Jess officially assigned you to the night shift. He was going to protest, citing that you have no meritorious experience to do so or something like that but he found out that you don’t actually bother him like everyone else. However, he’s grown very aware of your presence as of late thanks to his more unoccupied overnight schedule.

He even has time to just sit and think about anything other than the multiverse now. Usually, this spare time is occupied by observing you. He likes to sit back and watch all the tasks you do with no one around. He finds it relaxing in a way, which is something he’s grateful for. He’s discovered many things about you through this newfound hobby. You tilt your head with a small pout when you’re confused. You often have music stuck in your head which is made evident by the way you nod your head rhythmically. You rub your face with both hands when you’re tired and only one hand when you’re bored. You like to take power naps under the workbench specifically in the left corner of the lab, closest to the door. You usually wear civilian clothing around HQ at night but always wear the same shoes. You don’t like coffee. You drink tea but it has to be hot with steam billowing from the cup. You drink water more often than tea though, but only at room temperature. You crack your knuckles in 30-minute intervals when you type or tinker for long periods of time. You yawn frequently when the air-conditioner is pointed at you… The list could go on. Honestly, he’s a bit taken aback by how much knowledge he’s retained of your behavior and mannerisms. Why is that exactly? He can’t just claim outright boredom. Watching you is something he avidly chooses to do because he likes it. Bored certainly isn't the word he'd use to describe how observing you makes him feel.

“Why am I doing this?”, he mutters deeply as his eyes watch you type away on a computer. Maybe it’s like a child with an ant farm. It’s simply interesting. No, that doesn’t quite sound right. Even ‘interesting’ doesn’t truly capture how he feels watching you every night.

Soon a bright search window pops up in front of him, making him flinch aggressively. “Lyla!”, he shouts in annoyance as he rubs his stinging eyes; already knowing the culprit.

She pops up next to him with a shrug, “What? You asked a question and I’m answering it.”

He squints softly, his eyes focusing on the window presented to him. There are multiple articles listing words that make him furrow his brows. Intrigue, infatuation, sonder, escapism, comfort-watching. To Lyla’s surprise, he mulls them over but she chalks it up to his sleep deprivation. Some words stick out to him, finding himself unfamiliar with them.

“Comfort-watching.”, he states slowly as he selects the article. It explains what it is and what it stems from, denoting its connection to escapism. “The habitual diversion of the mind to purely imaginative activity or entertainment as an escape from reality or routine.”, he reads aloud, words muffled by his hand stroking his chin. Well, that didn’t make sense, watching you is his routine at this point.

He wouldn’t describe what you do as entertainment in theory and it’s certainly not imaginative. It’s just him watching how you do normal things. He softly chews his lip as he glosses over the other articles.

Lyla mimics his actions and strokes her chin, opening another article in front of her form. “Oh? This’ll be interesting.”, she thinks before speaking to Miguel, who’s now distracted by both the articles and his occasional glances at you. “Why do you like watching y/s/n?” [your spider name]

He replies with a sigh as he waves his hands around, positioning the articles around him, “That's what I’m trying to figure out, Lyla.”

“Just think for a moment. Off the top of your head, what’s one thing you like about doing this?”, she gestures to the monitor containing you. The two of them glance at you through one of the screens standing from your seat and stretching your whole body in an attempt to reduce your exhaustion.

Miguel’s inquisitive eyes soften a bit as he responds earnestly, “It’s familiar.” Lyla’s face flashes a bit in curiosity as she observes his expression. Before she can speak again, he continues, “This is calm and… warm.”

“Warm?”, Lyla asks curiously, her eyes fluttering over the chart in the article she opened. She's notated a couple of checkmarks now, in places she hadn't expected.

His eyes just can’t leave you as he thinks about what he’s said. It’s hard to put exactly into words, “I… appreciate her presence. She’s always there and it makes me feel comfortable.” There’s a strange feeling that stirs inside him upon hearing the words he formulates in response. You, a complete stranger, have somehow become a totem of routine in his eyes. Because after watching you nearly every night, you are always there working. Always. Despite the strange and unpredictable multiverse the two of you reside in, you sit in one of his labs, typing away on a computer. In a sense you’ve become the embodiment of normal.

Lyla repeats quietly but not lacking the casual tone she usually holds, “Her… Do you ever want to talk to y/s/n?”

He hums in thought before replying with an unsure shrug, “Honestly… I never even considered that. I don’t think I need to.”

Lyla glances back at the article and then back to Miguel, “But do you want to?”

His movements stall as her question hangs in the air. He takes a moment to apprehend what she’s asking. His eyes trail slowly from the articles floating around him to you on the CCTV display. You're crawling under that specific workbench in the left corner of the lab for what he knows is a power nap; he finds himself almost smiling at that. Does he want to talk to you? He ponders a situation in which he finds himself conversing with you casually. What would you talk about? He knows you like tea. Would you talk about your favorite kind? What is your favorite kind? How would you pronounce it? How do you pronounce certain words like caramel or aluminum? Maybe like aluminium? Maybe you say it differently than he does. He can imagine a light-hearted debate over phonetics, the two of you drowsy from the late night hours. Maybe you’ll tease him about the way he says it. How would you say… his name? You’ve spoken his name before on missions with a professional tone, always addressing him by his surname. It irks him a bit but he's never gotten around to informing you to just call him Miguel… How would you sound calling out to him in a tone that's amicable and familiar?

He’s broken out of his thoughts by Lyla waving her pixelated arms in front of him and a shout of his name, “Miguel!” He jolts at the sound of an alarm beeping around him. Bold words pop out in front of him, “ANOMALY DETECTED”. He hears his family name called out and straightens at the sound. That’s not Lyla's voice. He turns around to see you in your suit, tucking the hem of your mask into your collar as you trek to his platform. His hand waved behind him, minimizing the displays floating around him to hide the clues to his distraction with a single motion.

He hears you speak in a sober tone as you stand before him, “Lyla informed me that we’re both needed for this one. There’s an anomaly running around a metropolitan area on Earth-26. It travels quickly so we'll have to chase after it. Also, there doesn’t appear to be anyone to help.” He nods quickly, navigating through the multiversal map on his watch to open a portal. He nearly flinches as you gently grasp his forearm, looking up at him slowly.

“O'Hara,” you said calmly, which made him look at you curiously, “full stealth on this one. I’m uncertain how this universe would respond to… our kind.”

His lips nearly press into his natural pout under his mask as you address him by his family name but quickly absorbs what you're truly saying to him. He’s had a couple run-ins with a universe like this before and understands your concern entirely. He slowly pulls your hand from his forearm. The size difference doesn’t skip past him and makes something buzz in the back of his brain. Yet it’s subconscious, the way his fingers linger around yours before he releases them and states firmly, “Stay close to me.” You nod in understanding which he reciprocates before opening a portal. You flip open your watch and quickly calibrate your interface and send sync data to his watch to stay connected during the mission. It’s strange how ready you appear to be but it’s greatly appreciated. He hadn’t realized that he was staring before you turned towards him. You tilt your head softly and unbeknownst to you, he knows without a doubt that it’s out of curiosity. He gives you a nod, hoping it didn’t look as strange as he felt doing it. You step through the portal first and he’s quick to follow after as Lyla observes it all with an inquisitive squint.

All I really want is you

This was an uncommon feeling. You two chased after the anomaly, zipping through the sleeping city's skies quickly. Luckily, you both haven’t been spotted by anyone as you swing through the late-night drizzle. He started feeling a bit… he supposes ‘at ease’ is the best way to put it. He’s not foolish enough to grow complacent mid-mission but being on mission with you, working so seamlessly with him, made this feel easy. You’re professional, giving clear cues and staying on the same page. It’s as if you can hear what he’s thinking. Sure lego Spider-man is a good teammate but you’re a good partner.

The anomaly made its way to a rooftop with you right on its tail. You landed quickly with a soft roll before keeping low to the ground while Miguel landed behind you with a soft grunt. You crouched a bit as you tiptoed around gently, trying not to alarm the anomaly located somewhere nearby. He waits on standby, keeping a lookout for anyone who might see you two while you try to catch the small creature. You freeze as you see the silhouette of it, patting the ground with stubby limbs, seemingly ready to take flight again. That is until you squat down and pat the ground too. It looks at you and tilts its head, another action that you mimic before removing your mask. It slowly walks to its right and you gently shuffle to your left. You release a chuckle as you can see something that looks like a tail wagging. The noise meets Miguel’s ears and he turns to find you squatting and maskless. His eyes widen at the sight, fighting the hitch in his breath as he sees your h/c hair, it looks much softer in person. His eyes narrow is realization as he quickly replaces his intrigue with his usual pragmatism.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he speaks monotone, “What are you doing?”

You release a slow and soft, “Shhhh.” You then gently raise your hand, motioning him to approach you. His fingers twitch instinctively as he looks at your flopping hand and surprises himself by reaching out for it. However, his mellow emotions are doused in confusion as you tug him down quickly. He nearly falls on top of you, clearly not anticipating such sudden strength from you. Luckily, he manages to brace himself, kneeling behind you, and leaning a bit over your shoulder. He’s about to ask what the hell you’re doing when you point to the far corner of the rooftop. His eyes widen as he watches the dark creature slowly slink toward the two of you.

You breathe out quietly to Miguel, “Deactivate your mask.” He turns to you in shock despite you not looking at him. He’s about to protest before you whisper, “It needs to see your face.”

He acquiesces your command and slowly retracts his mask. The air nips at his warm face as he spies the creature tilting its head. You tilt your head too while whispering to him, “Mimic what it does.”

Miguel begins to protest but you quickly cut off his words, “Why-?”

“Just do it.” He nearly rolls his eyes at your sudden command but finds himself following suit as he tilts his head too. He watches curiously as the creature pats the ground with its left paw and you mirror it with your right hand. He grows a bit amused watching the two of you continue this little dance until it slowly crawls closer to you both. Miguel can hear your breath hitch as the creature steps into the light shining from over the door to the rooftop you all are on. It’s dark and covered with scales, with large blue eyes and bat-like wings. Your hand is still placed on the ground as the creature cautiously closes the distance between you. You cautiously turn your hand palm up, Miguel is confused by this but continues to watch nonetheless. The creature's eyes look up at you warily with tightly constricted pupils. You then turn your head, facing away from it and toward Miguel quickly. He barely manages to lean back enough to avoid you smacking your head into his shoulder.

He looks at you quizzically as you whisper to him, “Keep your eyes on me.” His brows furrow which indicates his clear confusion at your command. You respond cautiously yet softly, “Don’t look it in the eyes. It’s still scared.” Miguel slowly nods in understanding as his eyes stay on yours. 

There’s something that fizzles in his ears as he stares at you. Your eyes are oddly… calming. He’s never thought of looking at them before. At least not in an intentional way like this, unlike the usual polite eye contact you’re obligated to give someone you work with. It's so strange seeing you in person up close like this. He also has to fight the heat he feels making its way onto his cheeks at your close proximity. Your eyes sparkle a bit from the dim moonlight and there's drops of rain littered around your hair. You look so soft and inviting. There's not a sliver of malice anywhere across your features. He's sure this small anomaly is smart enough to come to you.

Soon he feels his lungs quiver in his chest as he watches your eyes crinkle as you smile. You’re chuckling. Why are you chuckling? His ears are roaring by the time you turn back toward the creature. His gaze lingers on the side of your face before looking down at the little one who’s currently licking and nuzzling into your hand, giving it playful nips. He smiles at that, grateful that this mission will end easier than expected.

The creature jumps on you and licks your face with a happy warble. Miguel tenses, worried that it may be attacking you until you release a giggle as you coo warmly, slowly standing with the creature wrapped in your arms. The sound tingles in Miguel's ears and he can’t help but watch you almost mesmerized as you carry the creature carefully before he stands back up next to you.

You comfort the creature with soft words as your nimble fingers quickly fashion a tracker to the little beast then click your watch. You speak calmly as you stare down at the baby creature with a smile, “Lyla, may you please check for any residual anomalies?” Lyla appears behind the creature and gives you a little salute before her visage flits around and scans the area. Miguel approaches to inspect the animal but leans back when it attempts to sniff at him which makes you chuckle at his stiffness. Then, you gently scratch between the animal’s horns as you walk closer to him to let it smell him properly. He stands awkwardly, watching its nostrils flare with each sniff of his arm.

You look around at the skyline behind him with a sigh, “What a view. Do you ever-”. Your voice fades off quickly as you squint, looking at something in the distance. Miguel notices as your hand stops moving and you cradle the creature protectively. Before he can even look at you, you shout while shoving him to the ground roughly, “Sniper!”. You yelp as something pierces your forearm violently, making your knees wobble. The creature jumps out of your hold, having sensed your body going limp before you slump into Miguel’s arms. The creature nuzzles into your dangling hand with a sad whine.

Miguel immediately enters high alert. He stays low as shots ring out above you, dragging you behind a structure to obstruct you all from whatever the hell is attacking. You're slumped against him as he shakes you softly with a tense voice, patting your face anxiously, “Y/s/n? Y/s/n wake up!” He sees the creature standing on its hind legs pawing at your thigh, looking up at him with scared eyes. Miguel shouts out into the air, “Lyla!” Immediately, a portal opens in front of you three.

Lyla speaks in a rushed tone, looking down at you worriedly, “I didn’t detect any more anomalies. Hurry.” Miguel scoops up both you and the anomaly, holding you tight as he jumps through the portal quickly.

What would you do?

Sleeping outside, the moon

Tripping with you

Miguel’s quick as he carries you to the med bay, the anomaly’s little legs trying to keep up with his long, wide strides. He places you on a bed and pulls up a med pod. He runs a full scan of your body and finds a bit of relief when it is concluded that you got dosed with a tranquilizer but he’s still tense. Usually a tranq doesn’t work that instantaneously; nor does it cause a strong shift in your blood pressure like this… It’s almost as if it’s thinned your blood. He sanitizes and gloves up quickly before grabbing some supplies to remove the projectile lodged in your arm. Fortunately, it doesn't take too long to remove all the pieces of the dart that broke apart. There's a bad feeling in his stomach as he does. He's never seen a tranq dart do such a thing. Why is it so fragile? Miguel has Lyla analyze the fragments while he cleans the wound.

He steals a glance at the little creature sitting in the doorway, its eyes watching you intently. He speaks evenly as he floods the wound with saline, gently patting it dry, “Don’t worry, she’s okay. She’s just sleeping.” He finishes wrapping your arm gingerly with a bandage and pulls the bed sheet over you, raising each of your arms to rest over the sheet. He stares at your hand in his for a moment. It’s warm. Your hands are warm and tiny compared to his. So, that’s how they feel… He blinks himself out of his thoughts and gently sets your hand down by your side to let you rest.

“You can come over. I’m done but she won’t be awake for a while.” Miguel says before looking over at the little beast. He’s almost surprised when it appears to understand what he’s said. After all, you did mention during the mission that it seemed highly intelligent relative to other wild animals. It stands, slowly trudging over before hopping onto the bed beside your leg. It looks at you and then turns to crawl on you cautiously as if it’s afraid of hurting you. After a few moments of hesitation, it pats the bed, circling a few times before settling down between your feet. Finally, it rests its chin on your leg, looking at you with large eyes while its tail curls around itself, and releases a soft bleat.

The display of how gentle it acts with you nearly makes him scoff in disbelief. It’s hard to believe that this is the same angry little beast that tried to claw at him earlier in the night. He's almost offended, truthfully. Why was it so mean to him? It seems to act like a cat, aggressive one moment then clingy the next. Miguel's eyes drift back up to look at you as he works around the room. He thinks for a moment to himself, "I guess between the two of us, I'd go to her too." He shakes the thoughts from his head. Miguel plops back onto the stool beside your bed with a sigh, having just finished cleaning up the soiled supplies. He yawns and scratches his jaw tiredly before he crosses his arms over his chest. The adrenaline that was once in his body is now long gone and his prior exhaustion floods him tenfold. However, he’s able to mutter with droopy eyes that watch your peaceful sleeping face, “What were you going to ask me?” He soon couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, his body feeling heavy and slowly slumping over as he drifted off to sleep. 

Head down

Miguel groans as he feels something slimy on his forehead. He squints harshly at the light that penetrates his eyelids but before he can get up to stretch he freezes at what he hears.

"Hey, hey. Don't do that, little one. He needs to rest."

He's about to just sit up to explain that it's too late but your voice breaks through with a gentle coo. "Oh. Look what you did, honey. You messed it up…"

Before his mind can propel itself into countless thoughts of hearing you say the pet name in such an endearing way, he feels something gently card through his hair. There's something that erupts down his spine at the sensation and that faint fizzling in his ears returns. Especially when he can feel your fingers graze against his helix as you sweep some strands of his hair behind it. He feels his body melt at your ministrations.

Now, he chooses not to move or open his eyes. He pretends to be asleep on what he can blindly tell is the edge of the bed you’re resting in. He enjoys this, the sound of your voice as you comfort and hush the little anomaly the two of you caught. He hears sad warbling and feels the bed move a bit. He manages to cautiously crack an eye open to peek at you cradling the creature close as it sniffs and licks your bandage gently.

You speak softly to it, "Hey, shh-shh. It's okay, I'm okay. See?" You poke the bandage, not where the wound is but the edge of it, to prove that it's fine. You point at Miguel which causes him to shut his eyes quickly before you speak again, "He protected me and helped me get better. So, it's okay." He feels the bed shift as you quietly chuckle, "Ah, ah. Don’t do that, love. I don't want to wake him up, he was really tired." He can sense you stopping the creature from approaching him further as you stand.

There's a soft shuffle that can be heard around him before he feels something drape over his shoulders. You speak so delicately near his ear as you cover him, “Thank you for taking care of me. Sweet dreams.”

He hears the rustling of fabric and the soft plodding of your feet along the floor accompanied by your voice, "Okay, baby. Let's go." Miguel's eyes peek open to see you walking out of the infirmary with the little creature trotting next to you.

Once you’re gone he turns his head, pulling the fabric off his back. It's your cardigan. The one that you were wearing earlier before the mission. His eyes still feel heavy as he bunches up the fabric under him. His nose is flooded with a scent he's unused to. It smells warm and comfortable and soon he drifts off again with his arms wrapped securely around your cardigan below his head.

That’s what you are, he thinks. Warm and comfortable.

I don't know when to come up for air now

It's been a couple of days since your e-26 mission together and you haven't spoken since. Like usual, you spend the night in the lab and Miguel busies himself with some backlogged reports. However, his eyes still glance over to the monitor displaying you occasionally. He's noticed that you haven't worked as much as before. Sure, you’ve tinkered with a few things but you mostly just write in a notebook and slump over the workbench now. He pauses to inspect your face then switches to a camera angle that shows what you're writing. Oh. You're not writing, you're sketching something. He zooms in to see a picture of the anomaly you two sent back after Miguel woke up that morning. Just as he thought, you were depressed because your little friend had to go back home. That’s a lie, he hadn’t actually thought of that at all. Truthfully, he was starting to grow concerned that something was wrong with you… He watches as you add detail to the eyes, the tip of your pencil faintly tracing along the paper to simulate each streak across its irises. It's this that reminds him of when he stared into your eyes. They're much richer than expected, drowned in a color that is so… you. It's you because it's comforting and relaxing and deep. Comfortable and warm. He remembers the words with a soft hum.

He catches something bright appearing next to you. It's Lyla. He's found that you two converse almost every night. What do you two talk about? How many things have you discussed? There’s something unknown that bubbles in the pit of his stomach as these thoughts fill his head. Eventually, his curiosity gets the best of him and he switches on the audio feed. The thought of this being a violation of your privacy, completely slipping past him. He gently sits down as he listens to the two of you talk.

"Raon? What does it mean?", Lyla questions curiously.

You rest your chin on your hand as you lean against the table, looking up at Lyla with a warm smile as you reply, "It means joyful. He looks just like… ah, it’s nothing." You trailed softly but soon chuckled with a wave of your hand.

The scene before him makes Miguel smile softly to himself. It’s such a mundane conversation yet he finds enjoyment from it. Especially from the soft chuckle that comes from you. 

"Hey, did you ever get around to-" Lyla begins but is cut off by your quick response.

"Nope… sorry.", You apologize with a bow of your head, realizing you interrupted her, "I should probably soon, huh?"

"Uh, yeah. The window of validity is closing, bud.", Lyla conjures up a window beside her before shutting it slowly as she raises a brow at you.

You nod and sigh, standing from your seat before turning to leave, "You're right. Thanks for reminding me, Lyla."

She hums to you before disappearing off the screen. She soon pops up next to Miguel who’s watching the feed of you walking through a corridor. She leans over his shoulder and speaks near his ear, "Stalker much?"

Miguel jolts at that and quickly exits off the camera display. He grunts and pulls some reports in front of him in a feeble attempt to cover up what he was doing, "I'm not a stalker."

She smirks and sings with an almost smug tone, "Ah, c'mon. It's just a joke, Miguel. Don't pout."

He states evenly as his eyes glance over the files presented before him, “Not pouting.”

“You never answered my question, y’know?”

“What question?”

“Do you want to talk to y/s/n?” She emphasizes her words with raised brows as she slowly orbits around his head to face him.

He blinks in thought, recalling the recent mission. You’re unfinished words wading upon the surface of his mind and truthfully they have been in his thoughts ever since you first uttered them into the night air. It wasn’t in your usually professional tone. It sounded more casual and unfortunately, you were cut short before finishing your sentence. “Do you ever… Do I ever what?”, he muses as his fingers rub at the side of his chin. He nods slowly before mumbling, “Yes… I think I do.”

Lyla bends down to smirk smugly at him with her arms akimbo, “Good.”

He squints at her and voices his confusion, “What do you mean? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“O’Hara?”, he stiffened as his eyes went wide at the sound of your voice. He composes himself quickly with a low grunt before turning to you.

Unfortunately, you misunderstand this, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“You’re not interrupting me. I just remembered something. Did something happen?”

You absorb his fast-paced sentences, “No, I just wanted to talk to you.”

He’s shocked by this but his face doesn’t show it. If only you knew of the discussion you just interrupted by coming here.

“I wanted to formally thank you for taking care of me.”, you spoke calmly while looking up at him on his platform. He noticed your hand resting over your bandaged arm, confusion taking over his features. You noticed this and looked down at your arm too, nodding before your gaze returned to him. You subconsciously rub the bandage as you speak, “Ah, this. I don’t… heal as quickly as the rest of you.”

He mulls over your words, the rest of you. You speak in a way that alienates yourself from the Spiders. It’s a phrase he can understand due to him constantly being put in his own category relative to the other spider-people. Other… He supposes he speaks about himself the same as you. So that’s that sense of familiarity explained, albeit partially. He asks with his naturally stoic expression, “Why is that?” He watches with furrowed brows as you think of how to respond.

You softly shake your head with a shrug, “I just don’t.”

Before either of you can speak again, Lyla questions while pointing at you next to Miguel. There’s a small smirk on her face, “Hey, y/s/n? What’s that?” Miguel looks at her curiously before looking down at the box in your hands.

“Oh, this is just… This is for you, O’Hara.”, you take a step forward towards his platform. Miguel’s brows shoot up not only at what you say but at his now descending platform. He looks over to Lyla who smirks at him, clearly the cause. He clears his throat as his workspace reaches your level, “Is it something to sign off on?” He thinks that maybe you’re ready to beta-test new equipment that needs approval first.

You shake your head and hand the box to him with a small smile, “No. This is a thank you.”

He furrows his brows again as he slowly opens the box with his words trailing off, “A thank you?...” It’s… they’re empanadas. You just gave him a box of empanadas as a thank you? 

“I heard Jess mention you liked empanadas. Sorry, they’re not the ones from the cafeteria though.”

He stares at them for a few more seconds. They’re warm. Are they fresh? How? It’s almost 3 am. Did you pick them up from your universe? “You didn’t have to give me this. I didn’t really-”

“You saved my life.” His eyes widen a bit as they meet yours. Ah. So you found out…

Your hands wring together nervously as you speak, “Lyla showed me the analysis of the fragments you pulled from my arm. Etorphine is a strong agent as is but it was formulated into a high-dose soluble projectile. If you hadn’t helped me so quickly, it would have dissolved into my blood and…”

“Thank you.”, Miguel all but whispers with his head down.

“You don’t have to thank me for thanking yo-”

“You took that shot for me.”, he quickly cuts you off. His eyes slowly trailing up to meet yours with firm sincerity. “Why did you take that shot?”

You rub your nape as you avoid his gaze and reply in an almost soft voice, “Ah. I didn’t really think about it… my body just moved on its own.”

There’s a bit of an awkward silence that spreads between you two as you both avoid each other’s eyes. Miguel stares back down at the food before speaking, “You really didn’t have to give me these.”

You speak with gentle hand gestures, a trait he didn’t know you had until now, “No, no. Please take them. I made them to thank you. It’s how I show proper gratitude. Honestly, I don’t think it’s enough.”

He looks at you in thought before looking back down at them with raised brows and a gentle smirk, “You made them?”

You tense, eyes darting to Lyla but she only offers you a quiet snicker. You sigh before nodding slowly, “Yes, I did. I’m sorry if you think they taste bad.”

He’s amused at your word choice. You didn’t say if they taste bad, you said if he thinks they taste bad. So you cook. And it sounds like you cook well given how confidently you speak about what you make.

Before he speaks, Lyla asks you something and motions you toward the control panel, “Y/n/n, come take a look at this.” [your nickname]

You bow your head briefly at Miguel with a modest smile before making your way to the screen Lyla opens for you. That’s another habit of yours he wasn’t fully aware of. He stands back and watches as you point at the screen and discuss it with Lyla. Your arms cross as you stand before the monitors, your face morphed from your inquisitiveness as you inspect the blueprint Lyla shows you. This makes him calm again. Watching you always made him calm and relaxed. However, it feels a bit stronger when you’re standing just a meter or so away from him. With you here now, so close to him, he actually feels warm. There’s a heat that surrounds him that he just can’t really explain. He continues his musings before taking a bite of the empanada absentmindedly but his eyes shoot down at the food as he tastes it. These aren’t like the ones from the cafeteria, they’re far better. The cafeteria carries standard beef empanadas. Beef and seasoning, it’s hard to mess it up. But these? Is this stew? This is honestly the best thing he's eaten in a long time. His foot stutters as he prevents himself from stepping closer to you and swallows the delicious bite before mumbling, “Are these-”

“Salteñas, sí.” His eyes travel up to see you looking back at him with a warm smile and nod. The way you say it is so natural. It rolls off your tongue so smoothly. Do you speak Spanish?

“Wow, it eats!”, Lyla cheers sarcastically.

“Lyla!”, he groans in annoyance.

“What do you-”, you unfurl your arms and look at him with what he recognizes as concern, “Sir, are you not eating properly?” You turn to face him completely and approach him slowly when all he returns is silence.

Lyla floats over to you, her voice laced with a haughty tone as she tattles, “No. No, he is not.” He grunts and tries to snatch her holographic form. His hand just misses her as she teleports to your other side with a giggle.

“O’Hara,” you call to him in a tone that’s so soft while still holding firmness. That’s new. It’s not as casual as he imagined and you’re still addressing him by his surname but he’s still pleased with how it sounds coming from you in that tone. “How often do you eat?”

He tenses a bit and looks away from your eyes before he gets lost in more of his thoughts. “I eat.” His brows furrowed as he mentally berates himself for his obvious statement. Of course, he eats. Estúpido. His embarrassment quickly triggered his next words despite how unexpected they are, even to him, “What does it matter to you?”

He feels an odd sense of uneasiness as he notices your lack of reaction. He’s quick to attempt to amend his words, “It’s appreciated but it’s none of your concern when I do and don’t eat.” Then there is more silence. It weighs heavily in the air awkwardly. He realizes his words may seem a bit harsh given how tense his voice is. He’s unsure what to say now and for once the silence from you isn’t so comfortable.

“O’Hara.”, you say more sternly as you cross your arms. He can’t help the way he feels like a child being scolded by their teacher. What truly catches him off guard is how firm your tone is despite how gentle you look at him, “Stop deflecting.”

It all makes him feel a bit small despite him being the one looking down at you due to your apparent size difference. He’s never been fond of his height. It’s annoying and cumbersome but the way your body positions itself to stare at him makes him think that it’s not that bad. Your head has to tilt back for your eyes to meet his. Those rich eyes of yours… The e/c encompasses your pupils in such an inviting way [eye color]. And each time you blink he catches a glimpse of how your lashes flutter against your skin. His eyes slowly travel along your features. Your forehead creases softly as your brows raise. The action makes your eyes appear larger as you look up at him. Then he sees your lips moving slowly. They’re not shiny nor are they chapped. But they do look smooth as he sees the tip of your tongue softly curl behind your teeth as you speak. Your words slowly grow less foggy before he flinches at the feeling of your hand gently holding his forearm. There’s a slight ringing in his ears as your voice finally reaches him.

“Mr. O’Hara, are you okay? You’re flushed.”

“What?”, he breathes out in a rushed tone before his eyes focus out to see the entirety of your worried expression. He gently tugs at the collar of his suit uncomfortably. He actually feels the heat now, it’s more intense than before.

“You’re burning up. It’s warm in here too…”. You quickly grab the box of food from his hand and place it on a nearby tabletop before pulling him toward the entrance of his work area. “Here, come with me.”

You take my hand like there's a way out (way out)

And we're escaping through the window

Miguel isn’t sure how but he now finds himself in a rather unfamiliar situation. You’re dragging him around by the wrist. However, it’s apparent that he follows seamlessly behind you. It feels natural for him to just maintain your lead, especially when there’s very little energy within him to resist. He watches how you walk in front of him. You walk in a way that makes you look smaller than you actually are. It’s as if you’re trying to hide. Why is that? Your shoulders are slouched a bit forward as you guide him through the corridors. His eyes drift to the back of your head, watching the way your hair gently bounces with each one of your steps. You halt for a moment which causes him to nearly stumble into you. Your grip on his wrist falters briefly before sliding down to take him by the hand. The action completely slips past you as you decide where to walk next, but it surely does not get past him. He has to fight the urge to squeeze his hand around yours but utterly fails. He’s not too upset about this. Truthfully, most of his awareness was occupied by trying not to let his claws protrude from his fingertips. You turn back to look at him but he’s quick to avoid your eyes, oscillating his head mindlessly.

You must have taken this as a sign of his unwell state because soon you're tugging him through the cafeteria with a firm whisper, “Over there. You need fresh air.”

His red face and his lack of words must make him appear as though he won’t be able to last the trek to the infirmary. You gently squeeze his hand which makes his eyes snap back to you quickly. Making your way to the large terrace, you push the glass door open. The air sweeps past you both as you guide him to sit on one of the patio chairs scattered among the outdoor area. His eyes are dazed as he looks up at you standing in front of him but they haven’t left you for even a moment since you squeezed his hand. But now your hand is no longer in his. He’s surprised to find himself a bit annoyed at that. You’re moving too fast, he thinks. All your actions are slipping away from him thanks to his hazy mind and he doesn’t appreciate it. You pull a handkerchief out of your back pocket and pat his sweaty forehead. His eyes watch you as you do. Your lips press into a line as you gently bite your bottom lip. Your eyes are full of concern as they roam over the sight of his flushed face. You remove your hand from his space as you step back a bit, wanting to let him feel the light breeze.

He spies how your hands start to reach out but retract back to your side, settling on your hips instead. You speak evenly as you look at him, “Are you okay? Does that feel better?” It’s gradual as he breaks out of his cloudy stupor, the wind finally cooling him down. He nods slowly before something slithers out of his brain and past his lips.

And I whisper

“What?”, you tilt your head curiously.

“Miguel….”, he breathes out, “My name is Miguel.”

You blink at him and speak with a bit of concern, “I know tha-”

“I don’t like being called O’Hara or Sir or Mr. O’Hara. Call me Miguel.”

You nod softly as you take in his words before giving him a small smile, “Okay. From now on I’ll call you Miguel.”

He almost smiles at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue but catches himself before it’s too late. His brows furrowed in confusion as you gently extended your hand toward him. You smile softly as you gently grasp his hand and shake it with a kind tone, “My name is y/n. It’s only fair that you address me as such.”

His brain stalls for a few moments, absorbing your name. It’s so fitting in a previously unknown yet expectedly pleasant way. Of course, that’s your name. He looks up at you in thought as you gently pull your hand from his, “Y/n, huh? It’s… pretty.”

He tenses in realization for a moment before slowly speaking, ensuring that his own curiosity remains undetectable, “The other night on e-26, on the rooftop. What were you going to ask me?”

You’re taken aback and stand back up, your lip jutting out in a pout as you try to remember. Your eyes wander to the table beside the two of you in thought but Miguel’s eyes stay on you. He takes in the sight of your face morphed in contemplation. It’s the same look he’s seen countlessly through the late nights. Except this time, it’s not pixelated or blurry from his monitors. Now, he can see you up close. He can see clearly how your chin softly wrinkles as you purse your lips and the way your eyes crinkle at the outer corners. It’s almost comical how earnestly he takes in such ordinary features with the same scrupulousness as a lab experiment.

“Do you ever look out at the skyline… and feel at peace?” The words flow out of you softly as you move to sit on the patio table next to him. Your eyes glide up to look at the lights below that decorate the horizon.

Miguel finally tears his eyes from you to look at the skyline before you both. It’s hard to hear the vehicles from up here but he knows they’re there. He can see the lights flicker and wane in the distance as his body relaxes into the chair. He realizes how familiar he is with the scene and breathes out lowly, “Yes. I do.”

He can see you smile in his peripherals before your voice fills the space between you, “I’ve always found comfort in the horizon and the view of the land below. The sunrise and sunset. I think Raon would have been mesmerized by this view of the city lights.”

He turns to look at you curiously, “Raon?” Truthfully, he was a bit curious about the word you mentioned to Lyla earlier.

You nod with a hum, crossing your legs and propping your chin on your elbows as you get comfortable. “The baby creature from our mission. Raon.”

Miguel notices how the word our rattles around his brain but pushes that feeling aside. He attempts to overpower it with a wry remark, “Did you name the anomaly?”

You release a breathy chuckle and nod, “Kind of. There’s a story from my universe that had a baby dragon named Raon Miru in it. Looked exactly like him too, blue eyes and all.”

He finds relief now not just in observing you but in your close presence and words. He’s intrigued by what you say. He can’t quite place the origin of such a unique name. He knows Japanese but he’s unsure if that is its correct origin. He takes a moment to look at you in thought, certain that he wants to hear more, “That name, what does it mean?”

“It’s a bit on the nose, truthfully. It means ‘joyful dragon’.”

“Raon Miru.”, he repeats to himself as he turns back to look at the skyline with you. There’s a comfortable silence that swells between you both. It takes a few more moments before your voice slithers into the empty space.

“Do you truly not eat well?”

He turns to look at you again but immediately regrets it. Well, not really. Your eyes are full of concern as they meet his. He sighs and shakes his head, “No. I don’t.”

“Why?” You ask so simply as your eyes never leave him.

He bites the inside of his cheeks and contemplates whether he should brush this off and lie or just tell you the truth. He chooses the latter, citing that he genuinely enjoys your consideration. “I’m busy. I lose track of time and just forget.”

Lyla finally decides to pop up next to you, “Hey, y/s/n. You actually remember to eat stuff. Mind keeping Miguel in check for me?”

Miguel stiffens quickly shaking his head to protest but before he can, you respond. “Sure, I don’t see why not.”

“Cool.”, Lyla nods and disappears having completed her job as instigator.

His eyes travel to yours in question only for you to smile gently at him with a tilt of your head. “I need to make sure you’re properly taken care of.”

Need, you say. Not want. The way you say it so matter-of-factly makes his lungs quiver, just like that night. His mouth shuts as he slowly leans back in his chair. The way you look at him lets him know that there’s no room for debate. You nod with a smile as you watch him acquiesce your response. “Good. So, did you like the salteñas?”

He nods and speaks with a low hum, “Yes, they were good.”

You beam at that and lean toward him unconsciously, “Really? I was worried there for a second. By the way you heated up, I thought you had a bad reaction.” You straighten up as your features quickly morph in realization of something before speaking, “That reminds me. Lyla?”

“Yo.”, she appears in front of you like a pop-up ad.

“What’s the temperature in Miguel’s work area?”

She conjures up a thermostat and squints at it, “Yeesh, 85°F and climbing. At the time of reporting, it is approximately 20 degrees higher than average. Excessive heat appears to be emitting from a ground-level display console.”

“Oh, may you please-”

“Filtering and cooling as we speak, captain.”, her little hand bumping her forehead to salute you in assurance. “I’ve shut off the machine since it’s under minimal usage priority. Consider this a work order.”

You chuckle at her antics, “Thank you, dear. I’ll be sure to repair it asap. It also sounds like your active monitoring is on the fritz, I’ll check that too.” You then turn to Miguel, leaning in inquisitively to see if he’s cooled down enough.

He questions absentmindedly with an almost gravelly mumble, “Hablas español?” [Do you speak Spanish?]

You're taken aback but smile softly, “Sí, pero no lo hablo con fluidez.” [Yes, but I’m not fluent in it.]

He finds the corners of his mouth gently lifting at your words, “Me suenas fluido. Tu acento es natural.” [You sound fluent to me. Your accent is natural.]

Your smile seems to grow ever so gently as you nod, “Thank you. I grew up in a diverse place. Lots of people spoke languages other than English.”

Miguel found himself completely relaxed as he spoke with you about anything and everything. Like that, the conversation flowed between you for a long while.

All I really want is you

What would you do?

Your brows shoot up in shock before a small smile blooms on your face. “Good. Let’s meet out on the terrace at 3 am. You better not leave me hanging.”

He smirks at your warning in amusement, you said it in such a way that carries no real malice. He nods in understanding as you two walk side by side languidly, back to his work area. The conversation hasn’t stopped. Miguel thinks this is the longest he’s ever talked to someone, speaking more words in these last couple of hours with you than he has to anyone in months. It’s odd to him how easy it is to talk with you. It makes him feel like he’s conversing with an old friend.

He’s lost in content conversation with you as you two enter back into his lab and continues even after you begin to work. He leans against the main control panel on his platform as he watches you repair the display console that practically turned his work area into an oven. Miguel’s arms are crossed over his chest, somehow unsure of what to do with his hands. He speaks with a more calm tone, “So you’re the one who does repairs around here? You’d think I, of all people, would know that.”

“I actually did think you already knew that but I suppose me coming in here and working on your tech while you’re out during the day is a bit of a clue as to why you didn’t.” You calmly respond to him. Your voice is just a bit louder than normal in order to ensure he can hear you properly. After all, half of your body is inside a relatively large electronics console.

“So what’s the issue here then?”

"Just a basic issue. Overclocked GPUs and faulty heatsinks don't really mix well.", you sigh with a shrug after gently crawling out of the unit to drop some screws into a small tray beside you. You present a damaged PCB to him and point at a burnt section of it with the tip of your screwdriver, “See, a few of them have blown fuses.”

He’s tuned into what you say and nods in acknowledgment. He knows what you’re talking about and enjoys it because it’s not rushed and not frantic like during the day. It’s calm and comfortable.

"Although I told Pete to run manual diagnostics on this which he said he did. Liar." 

Miguel is amused by your annoyed grumble as you work. He’s a bit curious as to why you refer to Peter by nickname when you’ve only started calling him by his given name a couple hours ago but he figures it’s fine since Peter is the one who initially recruited you from what he can recall. 

Miguel leans a bit over to peek at the mess that is the internal hardware before you crawl back inside. "I'm going to guess that he didn't even look at this at all."

"Yeah, pretty safe to assume that. I should have known better than to ask him. He's been preoccupied lately.", you groan from inside the panel. You look a bit funny like this, with half your body inside the console.

“Why did you ask Peter to look at it then?”, Miguel asks a bit curiously.

“Um, my arm was still messed up, Sir. I couldn’t really pronate it without feeling uncomfortable.”

He hears how nonchalantly you say it and senses that you don’t want to bring up the injury again. He nods curtly to himself and continues while changing the subject, “Don't call me Sir. It makes me feel old.”

You smile softly to yourself as you respond, “Sorry, it’s a hard habit to shake. I mean, you are the boss. But you shouldn’t worry, you’re not old by a long shot. In fact, I’m your elder…”

Your last few words are muffled but he manages to pick them up. His brows raise in intrigue as he asks, “Is that so?”

The way you tense at what he says doesn’t slip past him but you soon answer in a calm voice, “My universe’s present year is several decades earlier than here. So despite being biologically younger than you, I am chronologically n/y years older than you.” [number of years]

Miguel turns to work on some reports as he says, “Well, you still look spry enough to handle the duties of a Spider.”

You nearly snort at his comment. You must have not expected it, judging by your reaction. You continue to work, your eyes focused on the components you inspect as you jest in a sardonic tone, “Thanks, jefe. I’m glad to know you think my body is still young enough to be thrown around on missions.”

He has to bite his lip to contain the chuckle that he feels vibrate in his chest. He didn’t expect you to respond so sarcastically but he’s glad that you did. If anything, it makes him want to continue talking with you, “So why haven’t I been formally notified of your work here?”

“Well, if something breaks or needs general maintenance, Lyla is informed and she then passes that information to me. She typically deals with software issues and I’m the hardware person. We don’t usually bother you with these things because you’re always so busy as it is.”, you offer with a shrug as you crawl out and sit on your heels, inspecting yet another PCB.

“It wouldn’t be a bother. I need to know about these things.”

You look up at him and chuckle quietly with a soft shake of your head, “There are reports on file of every single repair I’ve done but… the last thing you need to worry about is a coffee maker gone haywire or someone’s empty web cartridges.”

“Aren’t you busy too? You take missions yet you still pull the Society’s odd jobs. Why?”

“Not really. I’m active mostly at night or in the early morning hours. Even when there is an active mission, I’m D-team at best.”

“D-team? Why do you think that?”, Miguel is genuinely confused by what you say. After all, the two of you worked so well together during the missions you have been on with one another.

“I’m just not that capable when compared to the Spiders.”

There’s that phrasing of yours again. It paints a clear separation between you and the society. Why are you so unwilling to include yourself with them? What exactly makes you speak this way? Miguel then thinks back to your first mission together, when it was just the two of you. Although it felt foreign at first, you two completed it quickly and efficiently. He speaks in a tone that leaves no room for rebuttal, “You are very capable.”

“Yeah, you think so?”

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

You sigh casually as you stand up, carrying a small tote against your hip of damaged hardware to be further inspected, “Well, I could just be pleasant to be around.”

He releases a breathy laugh at your arch remark with a shake of his head. If only you knew how important your presence has become to him over all these late nights.

You perked up at the sound as you placed the tote on a nearby desk, turning to him as you asked, “Did I just make you laugh?” 

He was about to groan in annoyance on instinct but caught the look in your eyes before he did. Your face didn’t show a single sign of ill intent. Rather, it carried what he identifies as wonder. His lips purse a bit as he looks away from you, trying to avoid your gaze to spare himself from how overactive he’s found his mind becomes when gazing upon your bare face.

“Oh, now you’re pouting.”

“Not pouting.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I am not.” 

Miguel’s brain stalls as his ears pick up a previously unknown yet gratifying sound. Gentle giggling slips from you and it makes that buzzing sensation in his ears return. But he's not upset because he knows you're not laughing at him. It’s that kind of laughter that isn’t rude nor teasing. It’s kind and full of joy. He can’t help the upturn of the corners of his mouth, finding your delight somewhat infectious.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just too cute.”, you wave your hand softly as your other hand attempts to muffle your chortling before grabbing the tote of hardware to repair again. You turn to leave to your usual lab to work but your joyful sounds have yet to cease.

Miguel’s frozen by your comment. Cute? In reference to him? That’s not… that’s implausible and honestly, unprecedented. The more he speaks with you, the more he learns just how strange you are. You’re different in not only appearance but behavior as well. He's sure now that you are unique to the Society in such an eccentric way. He realizes something and it’s arguable in his mind. It makes sense why you exclude yourself from them all. Out of all the Spiders, you’re the anomaly.

Laying in the rain with you

Middle of June

“Miguel O’Hara! Get your butt out here now!”

He groans and rolls his eyes with a smirk as he looks at the time. 3 am, on the dot. It’s time.

The two have grown very well acquainted with each other over the past 8 months. There was a stint of anomalies surfacing during the early overnight hours. For a while, it seemed you and Miguel were dispatched nearly every night but now the instances have slowed to every week or so. You’ve learned a lot about each other and have acclimated well to each other’s presence. His hands swipe away the monitors floating around him as he calls over his shoulder, “Yeah, yeah. Just a second, needy.”

“Needy?! Puh-lease, you would waste away without me.”, you chuckle as your body swings around the entrance to his work area. You cross your arms and lean against the doorway, “Ven a comer.” [Come eat.]

“Sí, Mami.”, he mumbles amusedly, stroking his chin as he stares at the monitors in front of him. [Yes, Mom.]

You chuckle and walk over to him, “Don’t make me drag you out of here.”

He closes the floating screens around him with a flick of his wrist before turning to you with a smirk. His hands rest on his hips as his platform descends to meet you. The soft fizzling in his ears returns as you look up at him with a small, playful smile. The sensation is no longer foreign to him. It’s welcomed now. Warm and comfortable. “Yeah, uh-huh. And how do you suppose you’d do that?”

Your grin is almost mischievous as he finally stands in front of you, “I’d figure it out. I’m very resourceful, you know?”

He nods and begins to walk with you to complete your late-night ritual. “Oh, are you now?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” You repeat the words he told you from your first night together. At this point, it’s more of an inside joke; a reference that often appears as you two converse.

“I thought you said it was because you were pleasant to be around.”, he hums amusedly.

“Well? Am I?”, you look up at him through your lashes. Your eyes gleam with warmth and he’s not sure if you truly know just how beguiling it is.

He mutters as he avoids your gaze, knowing damn well he wants to say yes, “Don’t fish for compliments.”

“But you would compliment me.”, you state in a way that’s laced with playfulness. You bend a bit at the waist to catch a glimpse of his face with your hands resting neatly upon your lower back.

He meets your teasing gaze for a moment before rolling his eyes, “What’s for dinner?”

He sees your lips curl up in his peripherals before you state nonchalantly, “It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise? What do you mean? What for?”

“What? Don’t you trust me?”, you chuckle in amusement after he rambles a bit. You managed to identify that habit of his despite his general seriousness after the many nights you've spent working together.

“I trust you as far as I can throw you.”, he replies collectedly, or so he hopes.

“Liar.”, you hum with an amused smile on your lips, “Nonetheless, I suppose it’s good that you’re an incredibly strong man that can throw me very, very far.”

You chuckle again as he groans beside you. You’re far too sharp for your own good, having seen right through his strategic word choice. You two enter the terrace and something feels different. The air is a bit warmer tonight. Miguel supposes it’s just that kind of summer night. One where the heat from the day lingers into the late night and rekindles the following morning. His eyes shut for a moment as he absorbs the scent floating around. It’s familiar, it’s… enticing. He blinks softly before turning to you, eyebrows lifting in surprise as he sees that setup you’ve made. Upon the ground is a large blanket with a couple of small pillows. There are a few containers of what he knows is your cooking placed in the center. It’s not extravagant but something does stir in his stomach as he sees you turn to him. You almost look coy as you gesture behind you but your eyes never lack that warmth he knows as yours. “Yeah, it’s a bit silly but… happy 50th successful mission, partner.”

He stiffens at your calm yet happy proclamation. The word partner rattles around his brain for a few moments before the gears in his brain turn again. 50 missions? Have you two truly been on 50 missions already? Oh, who is he kidding? Of course, he knows that already. The two of you have actually been on 58 missions to be exact but they can’t always be successes.

You walk over to pull him gently by the wrist to the blanket, “Come on already. Food’s getting cold.”

He rolls his eyes with a smirk as he indulges your command with reluctance, but only externally.

You let go of his hand and sit at one end of the blanket, “Mira, I made some of your favorites.” You remove the lids of the containers presenting a small variety of his preferred dishes. There’s a smile on your lips as you pull out the final container, presenting it to him with a kind tone of voice, “I even made Stobhach for you. And I’ll let you know I’ve perfected my recipe.”

He can’t help the small curl of his lips as he sits opposite of you. You seem so excited to show him all that you prepared for tonight. It all almost makes him blush. He’s learned fairly early on in your acquaintanceship-turned-friendship that you show affection through care. Especially, by giving someone a home cooked meal. He stares down at the food and hums, “Thank you.”

You return with a hum of your own. Besides the banter and wry humor, words aren’t really necessary between the two of you. You’ve learned to read each other well. Body language, quirks, and even the noises that rumble from each of your chests. It’s almost animalistic in its simplicity. Miguel has come to realize how truly perceptive you can be, similar to himself. You two actually share a lot of similarities like your inquisitive nature and reclusive behavior. And he’s come to the conclusion that that is why you two can exist so harmoniously together. It’s not hard to be around you. To him, your presence is easy.

All I really want is you

What would you do?

You two have been talking for a while, the food long gone and your bellies satiated. There’s a bubble around you two as you converse like you’re in your own little world. 

“Come on. Lay with me.”, you look up at him with warmth in your eyes as you pat the space next to you. He truly can’t find it within himself to deny such a gentle command. He moves to lie next to you and stares up at the few stars that manage to make it through the city’s light pollution. It’s times like these when he ponders upon his actions and realizes how easily he finds himself following your instruction. He’s not upset about it. He just finds it odd although certainly not unwelcome. Truthfully, he’s grateful that he can take your lead and not have to be in charge, even if only for a moment. But these moments fill his chest with something warm. Warm and comfortable are his two choice words to describe you in any situation. Whether it be as you two work in silence in one of the labs or when you patch each other up after rough missions.

Sleeping outside, the moon

Tripping with you

He hears a sweet sigh from your lips as you relax on the blanket next to him. You whisper into the night air with the same gentleness one speaks a secret, “This reminds me of one night when I was a teen. In my universe…”

Miguel’s ears perked a bit as you began. It was very rare for you to speak of yourself, your experiences, or your universe. Every time you did, he was sure to pay attention and commit each word to memory because if you ever spoke of it like this, earnestly and unprompted, it meant you were revealing a part of who you are. That you were trusting him with a part of your very essence. To keep it safe.

“California isn’t gone. There’s a coastal city there called San Francisco that my friends and I traveled to. We spent hours there. We watched the sunset on the bay and the evening fog that rolled in. And eventually, we laid back on the sand and looked up at the stars. Just like this.”

He didn't say anything or make a noise. He just stared up at the stars with you, listening intently.

“I felt so calm that night. I knew in that moment that nothing else mattered. And for the first time, I felt at peace. My whole life I didn’t do much. I stayed at home filling my time with random knowledge and tricks. I avoided people and kept to myself as best as I could because I had learned very young that people were not to be trusted.”

Miguel feels his chest tighten at your words but keeps silent. There’s a darkness that barely laces your voice but it is there. He picks up the sound of hurt in your tone and it grips him tightly. There’s a tumultuous feeling in his stomach. He’s eager to preserve the pieces of yourself that you delicately hand him but it doesn’t change the feeling of helplessness that floods him. Your honesty is encased in sadness, a build-up of fears and insecurity that he’s far too late to have prevented. So he listens because maybe, just maybe, something you reveal to him in these genuine passages of your lore can help him protect the parts of you he keeps.

“I learned that family was everything because family would never hurt you. It’s funny now… Now, I think I’m nothing but a memory yet to be forgotten by them.”

He turns to look at you curiously but the concern is unmistakable in his eyes. Of all the countless nights you’ve spent together, you’re finally revealing why you are the way you are. Why he feels like he knows you without words. Because loss and loneliness radiates off you like bittersweet perfume yet you contain it with walls built of sufferance and capability. He’s always held a certain affinity to you that he could never quite describe until now. Before his thoughts submerge his consciousness, he notices how your eyes are screwed shut and the way your fist is squeezed tightly around the strings of your hoodie. Your clenched fingers resting above your heart almost as if you're quelling pain into passivity.

You sigh quietly as if to prepare yourself for what to say. “Things happen. At one point you think you know where you are. Then you blink and wake up somewhere else entirely.”

There’s a brief pause before your next words. Your eyes slowly flutter open to look up at the stars with glossy eyes and a gentle yet certain voice, “I’m here now and I’m actually very grateful for all that has happened. I’ve learned things I never thought were possible, about reality and the world. About people and about myself.”

He’s a bit surprised as you speak to him with sincerity, “I know I’m strange, Miguel. I know I don't make sense and that I don’t really fit. But you make me feel understood. And you make me feel like I’m not really alone… Thank you.”

You turn to find him staring at you in surprise. Your smile is small but your usual warmth has returned, and truthfully, he thinks that it never left. “Sorry. That was a bit heavy, huh? Just forget I said anything.” You offer with a chuckle before laying back.

All I really want is you

Your eyes are closed as you bask in the moonlight and his eyes travel over you. He takes in the soft curl of your lips and the faint flush on your cheeks from the cool air and candid words. The temperature isn’t too bad but thanks to the extreme altitude of the building, it’s crisp yet foggy. It’s an odd feeling, the air is damp from the clouds rolling through the skyscraper but Miguel feels warm. So soothingly warm. Especially, with you laying so close to him. So earnest and so true. He finds it odd how comforting this feeling is despite it being foreign to him, or rather dormant. He’s astonished by your trust in him. It fills him with something that he wasn’t entirely sure he was missing. Suddenly it's apparent what exactly this feeling is. The same feeling that he's felt for months. And it finally sparks in his mind as you look at him with tired eyes and a warm smile.

I love you. 

All I really want is you

What would you do?

He can nearly taste the words on his tongue but he remains silent as your eyes stare into his. Suddenly he feels very awake as his own thoughts dawn on him. Managing to tear his gaze away from your familiar e/c eyes, he finally speaks as he closes his eyes with a coy smirk.

“Never.”

It’s you. Now, it’s something that’s as certain as fact in his mind. He feels the heat of your hand resting on the blanket between the two of you, right next to his. Right where you belong, he thinks. Right next to him.

All I really want is you

Is you, is you, is you

Appearing near you two and out of sight is Lyla. She watches you two and makes a final checkmark on the chart she pulled from an article months ago, when Miguel was initially questioning his interest in you. She smiles to herself as she looks over the chart then back at you two as you exist in your own little world. The words softly illuminated in the window beside her, Infatuation vs. Love, with all her markings under the latter.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this! Also, big thanks to everyone who voted on my poll regarding this fic. I am open to your opinions and questions! Please feel free to ask me anything!

[whisperedfantasy]

The Sweetest Sounds: Chapter 1

Pairing: Ken/F!Reader Genre: Idolverse, Romance, Slow burn Rating: M (eventually) Word Count: 3,277 General content warnings for whole series: misogyny(a little, as a treat), possessiveness, alcohol use, sexual themes, (eventual) D/S. More warnings will be added if applicable.

Description: You and your good friend Jaehwan are cast in the upcoming musical Rodgers and Hammerstein's Cinderella. Little do either of you know, the romance is not exclusive to the stage. In your line of work, where reality often blurs, will your feelings come to the surface or remain fiction? AN: This piece of fiction is loosely based off of Ken's appearance in the 2015 production of Cinderella. All depictions of real people are based off of public personas only and in no way reflect real life. Please be warned that although the chapters start off PG-13, the plan is to delve into more mature themes. i.e. smut. ---

You

While cleaning off your goopy toothbrush, you hear your phone vibrating on the end table in your bedroom. Irritated, you rush back in. The first meeting of the day wasn't for another hour or so. You yawn and rub your eyes while picking up the phone. You see his name as they adjust. Jaehwan Oppa. "Hello—" "Good morning, Cinderella!" You rip the phone away as he belts into your ear. Delicately, you ease the phone back up and you clear your throat. "Alright, what gives? Since when are you coherent at this hour? And don't you mean Sleeping Beauty?" The man on the other line chuckles, returning to a more expected volume. "No, Y/N. I mean you booked the role, for the musical, Cinderella."

"Excuse me?" Your brain buzzes as if it's on a dial-up connection. Suddenly, the questions pour from your mouth before you can think of them. "Why isn't my manager telling me this? How did you know I even auditioned?" Your eyes roll as you hear the most overacted disappointment Jaehwan is capable of. "I know, wait till Seokjin hears about this too. He'll be just devastated." The dork's final word stretches to impose guilt. The corners of your mouth perk up. He always knew how to make you smile. Good thing this wasn't a video call. "Oh my sincerest apologies, but you've both been busy with your recent comebacks. Care to answer my other question?" His voice perks up again, drawing out his words to build anticipation. "Well, I just got out of a meeting with my manager, casting director, the like. They broke the news to me that they had put you down after your audition—" "Why—" "Can I finish?" His voice rises to a shriek, your phone once again briefly rips from your ear. "Go ahead." "I was having this meeting, because I've been cast as Christopher. I just found out myself, and they told me who my opposite is gonna be." He pauses. "You. We'll be working together on stage!" The plush texture of the carpet nearly kisses your jaw. Feeling the silence linger, you feel the need to fill the space. More questions spill from your mouth. "What?! How did you even find the time to audition? I mean don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you—for both of us—and I'm sure you nailed the audition, but—" Jaehwan's words seem to catch you. "Y/N, it's okay, slow down," he says, a warm giggle in his voice. "My manager saw how much I enjoyed acting in Chess and thought this might be a nice break from my normal schedule. And an opportunity to challenge my oh-so-charming voice." Despite the hyperbole, he isn't wrong. He's still early in his career and already has one of the best singing voices in the industry. Guess this is only fitting for someone with his kind of talent. The two of you have bonded over the stage plenty of times as well. This would likely, hopefully, be a good experience. A sigh of relief slowly exits your body. If you had known you landed the role, you might have gotten a bit more sleep. "Well, I suppose that's what my meeting was gonna be about. Thanks for that. I'm sure we'll work hard and have plenty of fun with it." "You bet. I could hardly contain myself, but try to fake a surprise for your team though, huh? For my sake?" A nervous, forced laughter comes from your phone speaker. He clears his throat. "But uh, I was gonna ask. Would you be free anytime today or tomorrow to talk about the show a bit more? I wanna hear about your audition and talk game plans." "Game plans? Uh, yeah, I should be free in the early evening. Only have a few things on the calendar today. You wanna come over?" You pause, considering. "Around 4:30?" He hardly lets you finish before popping back in. "I'm there! Say, what size shoe do you wear?" "Goodbye." You hang up the phone and throw it onto the bed.

The news hits you full force. You did it. You booked. You're going to be playing Cinderella. And Lee Jaehwan is going to be your prince.

As the latter realization hit, your shaking hands begin to cover your face. A pathetic attempt to hide. A small, ever-conspicuous part of you exploded with butterflies. Then, familiar and engrossing nausea. A nausea you've barely repressed since Jin introduced you to Jaehwan's sickeningly sweet smile three years ago. And his deep, piercing eyes you could drown in anytime they caught you in their crosshairs. And—

Letting your thoughts wander wouldn't help you get through the day, or this role. After slowly peeking out between your fingers, you do your best to shake it all off and finish getting ready for your meeting. Who knows how you're going to fake a surprise in this state. Fuck. --- Alright. Clothes changed, makeup removed, you don't smell. The polite amount of snacks are spread across the coffee table. Your fellow members are otherwise occupied. Surely this is the best case scenario. Except it isn't. If it was, you and Jaehwan wouldn't be playing love interests on stage. It shouldn't be a big deal, you've appeared together on the job. You've spent your free time together, both with others and alone. This should be as normal as normal gets in your life. So why don't you feel that way? You know why. Ever since he emerged fresh from his debut you've admired him. 4:28. What if he got caught up at work? You start tapping your foot with your breath caught in your lungs. What if he got in an accident? What if? God, why am I asking myself all these questions? I'm so annoying. That's probably why he isn't— Bzzzzzzzt. Your phone again. Is he here? You snatch it from the coffee table.

Nope. It's Seokjin. Worldwide Oppa: Y/N! So ecstatic to hear you got the part! I always knew you were a princess in disguise. And don't worry, my wounds are healing just fine. ;-) 4:28PM What a goof. You: Ahaaaaaaaa. Thanks, appreciate the support as always <3 Truly beside myself to hear about your damages, but I guess I just lost track of time. >;) 4:28PM Worldwide Oppa: Oof. My ego. Nah, that's alright. I get busy too. Already have my front row ticket for opening night though, gotta be there for you two. All part of the job, of course. 4:29PM You shake your head. Jin's a pillar of sincerity and loyalty. Well, they both are. It feels nice to have that. You: lol well we don't even have scripts, so there's definitely no tickets for sale yet. But Oppa and I will pull as many strings as necessary for you to sit exactly where you need to. :) 4:30PM Your muscles begin to loosen, if only for a moment. You have some damn good friends celebrating you. A loud banging invades your eardrums accompanied by a startling "Y/N-a," somehow echoing through your dorm despite coming from the hall. "Let me in, please!" ---

Jaehwan Jaehwan repeatedly thwops his head onto the seat rest. "Can't we go any faster?" He forces an exaggerated sigh.

Hakyeon crosses his arms. "How much faster do you expect us to go in bumper-to-bumper traffic? How long have you lived in this city?" Here comes the lecture. "I wish you were as timely about work meetings that don't involve her. Are we not pretty enough for you? Hmm?" Jaehwan stutters. "I'm just excited about being on the stage again. Can't a guy dream?" His senses are overwhelmed by the sheer amount of metal death traps outside. "I thought you'd be happy about my work ethic. My opportunities." His leader shoots an evil eye in his direction. "I am, but you didn't have to wake up the whole dorm this morning while serenading your opportunities." Brushing Jaehwan's shoulder with his own, he smirks. Hyuk chimes in. "You know, you might have Y/N fooled, but we see through your pointless facade." His eyebrow raises, ready to pounce. "You really should just plant one on her before someone else does. She's a cutie." Jaehwan's whining becomes a yell as his insecurity flares. "Shut up!" He startles the driver, who truly should be used to this by now. Maybe he did like you? Was that a crime? So what if his heels rise every time you enter the room, it's good for stretching! "Enough." Hakyeon warns, trying to avoid a car wreck. Hyuk buries himself into his seat and mumbles just loud enough for others to hear. "Chicken shit." Jaehwan taps his foot. "Look, hyung, we're practically at her dorm now, can't I just bounce here?" He says, relenting his due respect. "I have my mask, sunglasses, everything. No one's gonna see me." Hakyeon shuts him down. "Absolutely not. What if someone follows our car? Are you going to take responsibility for that, brat?" Taekwoon waves his hand dismissively. "Just let him go, it's fine." Hakyeon grows quiet. Jaehwan sneakily opens his door at the next red light. "Gonna take that as a yes, see you guys at home!" His heart is thumping in his ribs before he even starts to run. He's not even late, time has just been dragging all. day. long. Guess it couldn't hurt, he thinks, passing a flower shop on the way. He wouldn't be late. Not this time. Jaehwan addresses the shopkeeper on his way out. "Hey, thanks again! She's gonna love them!" He hurries towards his destination. He's all smiles, at least until he enters the lobby. Instead of VIXX's Ken, he envisions himself as Prince Christopher, standing on the steps of the palace with a slipper made of glass in his unsteady hand. If it were to drop, things would surely change for the worse. He's survived on a diet of stolen glances and regurgitated confidence until now. His members know it, Seokjin knows it, he knows it. The masked idol drags his heavy chest into the elevator. He can't admit his feelings, not until he improves. He has to be the man you deserve. Do you even feel a sliver of the way he does for you? Would you even bother waiting for him, if so? Or will he always just be silly, goofball Jyani? The doubt seems neverending. Jaehwan and his chest stumble onto your floor. Just a regular hangout. He asked for this. He stands at the door for what seems like an eternity. Frozen. "C'mon, Jyani, get a grip!" He takes his mask off before his palm begins slamming against the door. "Y/N-a! Let me in, please!" ---

You Taken by surprise, you hurry to the door. You can do this. It's just Jaehwan. You're used to hanging out without letting your heart bleed. After twisting the doorknob open, you see him standing there, still with his typical makeup and press uniform on. Towering over you. Ignoring that his arms are behind his back, you look him up and down and chuckle. "Thanks for stopping by, Ken-ssi. No collar this time?" He looks puzzled, so you point to his perfectly done hair and makeup. Jaehwan nods his head in realization. "Ah no, had to leave it with the stylist." He shrugs his shoulders before bringing his arms in front of you, bowing his head just a smidge, avoiding eye contact. "These are for you. I hope we work well together in the future." In front of you is a beautiful bouquet of white roses surrounded by baby's breath, wrapped with vibrant royal blue cloth. Arms hugging your torso with discomfort and eyebrows practically glued to your bangs, you move forward to get a better look. "Oh, Oppa, you really didn't have to—" He puts a palm in the air, stopping you. "Nothing a friend wouldn't do when finding out about your new opportunity." He stutters. "It was no trouble, really." You can feel your eyes unfocus into one of the petals. Right. Friends. This is what friends do. Of course. You knew that. "They're beautiful," you say sincerely, before looking up to attempt to meet his face with a gentle smile. "Thank you, just wish I would have thought to do the same. Dinner's on me?" "Sure…" he looks down at the roses, "never gonna pass up a free meal." The already very well-off idol declares. "Gonna find some water for these though, alright?" Humming a sound of agreement, you close the door as he rummages through your cabinets. He's been here enough to know where to look. "Ah—" He snaps his fingers, finding a suitable vase, then filling it with water. After moving the flowers to a nearby window, he motions to the hallway. "You have enough makeup wipes for me to take my face off?" While he's making his way towards the bathroom, you reply, "Yep. If not, they're in the cabinet." "Thank you~" His belting voice echoes through the hallway and into the bathroom. You can't help but laugh. While bringing your volume up to match his antics, you pull out your phone. "How goes the promotions?" Your body rests against the wall, pulling up your favored delivery app. Jaehwan's voice gets even louder to accommodate the faucet turning on. "Pretty fantastic, all things considered." You hear some splashes. "Even the b-sides are getting recognition from the charts, more Starlight babies every day." Chained Up was getting plenty of attention in the public eye, and it wasn't just due to the unexpected visuals. VIXX's talent and work ethic was really paying off, and you were happy to see things work out so well for your seniors. Jaehwan steps out from the bathroom, patting his face dry with a towel. He shakes his hair out of his face before rapidly blinking his eyes. You're relieved the room feels more quiet again. He says something that you don't quite catch due to seeing his bare face displaying his natural beauty. Somehow something so simple, so normal to you every other day, is setting off fireworks in your eyes. "Y/N?" Jaehwan's voice pops your bubble. "What was on you agenda today? Don't tell me you're ignoring me." His plump lips pout a half smile at you before eyeing down the snacks on the coffee table. "Me? Never. You insult my manners, good sir." Dramatically matching his own game with a curtsy, you recover. "Ah, well, aside from that meeting, nothing exciting." You sit down on the couch, him following your lead to the recliner. "Just the typical rehearsal and team meetings." Tossing him your phone to order, you continue, "Jin oppa texted me earlier to congratulate us, which was nice. Him and the boys seem to be swamped this month." "Sounds like Bangtan. He's always got his hands full when a comeback comes around." Jaehwan hands your phone back, and you see a payment confirmation screen.

Staring at it, your face sours and you mumble. "I said I was treating you." "It's not your job to pay for me." He frowns and stares at the floor. "I'm your Oppa and it's your first musical." A few moments of silence go by before he pipes up. "So, what song did you use to bewitch the casting director?" You look back up at Jaehwan's face that just won't give you a break today. "Somewhere That's Green for the first round, then for the callback they asked for In My Own Little Corner." You put your phone onto the coffee table, still a bit irritated by his previous action "About 40 minutes, by the way." Jaehwan nods in oblivious approval. "I like it, sounds like you made the right choice." Tapping his leg, not meeting your eyes, he continues. "I went with Edelweiss for the first round, then they had me do some segments from Ten Minutes Ago but then also Agony from Into the Woods?" He looks back and away from you, hesitating. "Guess they wanted to hear me yearn, I dunno." "Your range lends well to yearning, you shouldn't be surprised." You start fidgeting with your nails while ignoring the heat of your blush loosening you up. "What racks my brain, though, is why they didn't do a chemistry test for the first pair to play the characters." Jaehwan reaches for a drink. "Well, we've done variety together and our friendship is known, so they likely saw what they needed to. And they know we have the talent." He twists the cap off. "Saves them money, too. You know the drill." Corporations being corporations, a practice you knew all too well with the part you play. Still though, was your chemistry with Jaehwan, or Ken, impressive enough to warrant full confidence? The thought lingers for a moment before passing. Maybe others saw what you didn't. Maybe your members comments about him weren't just teasing. Were you dense? You cut yourself off before you slip into yet another daydream. Jaehwan claps his hands together gently. "Anyway," voice perking up. "Since we don't have our scripts yet, shall we practice the songs while we wait? I imagine it'll be harder after we stuff our faces." He pats his stomach and sulks. "Bloated burps will harm my precious charm." Taking a sip of water, you bring up lyrics on the television while chuckling at his sentiment. As if harming his precious charm was even possible. "Probably best to do that now, yeah." After joining him in some vocal warmups, you stare him down for a challenge. "Show me what you've got, Christopher." Jaehwan cracks his knuckles. "Oh you don't know what you just got yourself into, Princess." Princess. You liked the sound of that coming from his mouth. A chill runs up your back, but not quite goosebumps. The two of you practice the expected songs from your upcoming musical. Every note Jaehwan sings, your heart flutters. As your voices swell, your heels rise. His voice hypnotizes you. Your shared craft brings you closer by the second. When your eyes connect, cool glass forms around your feet. Jaehwan's clothes blur into a dashing white cravat and coat. As your armor begins to fracture, the sharp sound of plastic against wood jolts you back to reality. Clearing the blissful haze from your mind, you're unsure if the front desk just ruined your night or saved it.

You go down together to retrieve your spoils. After returning with the bags, he moves the flowers to the dining room table as you sit down. The first few bites in and his muffled lilting sounds express his delight. If he noticed your near-undoing, he doesn't mention it. Once the meal is complete Jaehwan helps himself to your rubber gloves and prepares to wash the dishes. As you clear the tables, you can't help but steal short glances at him. Realizing the gloves are the same shade of blue as the roses were wrapped in, you stare for just a moment too long. Before you know it he's looking your way with a reassuring grin tugging one side of his mouth. Your first foray as Cinderella lingers in your mind once the night ends. Thoughts of being Jaehwan's anything, much less his princess, seems impossible. Your rehearsal replays in your mind over and over again as you stumble into bed. While instinctively gripping the nearest pillow, you allow yourself to get just a little lost before the real thing starts next week. Today has opened a box that you can't close. It was just as glorious as it was terrifying.

[scientia-rex]

Some Thoughts on Antipsychotic Medications

Ok, enough of you seemed interested in this when I asked in my antidepressant post (don't ask me for a link, search my goddamn tumblr for it, oh my GOD people were so lazy about my post on bariatric surgery). Once again, this is NOT medical advice, medical advice must be TAILORED TO THE INDIVIDUAL, that's the whole POINT of a professional field, literally every answer is "it depends" and without being your doctor, which I better not be because if you're my patient reading this I need to nuke my entire social media presence, I can't give you good advice and I wouldn't anyway because I already work 115% time and I'm very tired and you don't pay me.

There's a lot of crossover between "antipsychotic" and "mood stabilizer." I don't have as much experience with antipsychotics as I do with antidepressants, but more than your average bear. So you may see a med here and go "wait, what?" because of that overlap.

It's also worth discussing what psychosis is. There are a lot of media representations, and they are generally very stupid and bad. About 3% of the population will have a psychotic episode in their lifetime, so keep that in mind when you're talking about psychosis. There's about a 1 in 30 chance that the person you're talking to will actually have had psychosis, and a much higher chance that someone they know or love will. So don't be a dick about it. Psychosis involves losing the ability to distinguish what is reality and what is not. It seems to involve overactivity of dopaminergic transmission in specific brain pathways. It tends to be very frightening for its sufferers, although not always. Psychotic symptoms can range from a persistent delusion--I have one patient who is quite simply certain that they have worms in their lungs, despite all the tests indicating that they don't--to hallucinations of voices, to visual hallucinations, and any combination of those. Delusions and hallucinations are often negatively valenced, which means that they make the sufferer feel bad in some way, whether it's an auditory hallucination of someone telling you you're the devil, or a delusion that you're being persecuted by conspiracies for unclear reasons, or hallucinations of shadowy figures out of the corner of your eye. Delusions, when I see them in my patient, often reflect a patient's deepest fear. I had one patient who was a caregiver and they were fixated on the idea that there was a conspiracy of people watching them and setting up "tests" to make sure they weren't hurting patients or doing drugs.

It's also worth mentioning meth. Meth is one of the major causes I see of psychotic symptoms (especially since I'm in a rural area), and you need to understand that the longer and the more you do meth, the higher the likelihood of persistent psychotic symptoms. When I was a med student on an inpatient high-acuity psych ward, I had a very pleasant gentleman who'd been doing meth for years. It's tough to get a clear history, but my impression was that he probably hadn't developed psychotic symptoms until multiple years into daily use of meth--but now, despite being on the ward for over a week, there was no sign of the psychosis going away. He believed he could say things to passing cars and the sound would travel with the car, and someone miles away would hear it. He also believed there were indistinct white figures who hovered around his campsite. (He was homeless.) Meth can break your brain. Don't do meth.

The original antipsychotics are old school. We're talking the 1930s. Promethazine was developed in the process of trying to come up with antihistamines. First-generation antipsychotics are dopamine antagonists, and that means that they're blocking a large proportion of dopaminergic transmission both in the brain pathways related to psychotic symptoms, but also in the pathways related to reward, which sucks. When you think of "antipsychotics," this is most likely what you're thinking of unless you have personal experience with antipsychotics. First-generation antipsychotics include haloperidol (Haldol), chlorpromazine (Thorazine), and a handful of others, but it's a smaller class than the second generation.

Second-generation antipsychotics were a game changer. These are serotonin-dopamine antagonists. They include risperidone (Risperdal), paliperidone (Invega-Sustenna), quetiapine (Seroquel), aripiprazole (Abilify), olanzapine (Zyprexa), lurasidone (Latuda), ziprasidone (Geodon), and also clozapine, AKA the antipsychotic everyone hates prescribing because it can cause your white blood cells to suddenly go bye-bye and boom, you're at huge risk for infection. The only patient I've ever seen develop clear, unambiguous serotonin syndrome was on clozapine. I don't prescribe it as an outpatient family doctor; it's a medication of last resort, and more often seen in inpatient settings due to the need for frequent blood tests to monitor.

Because the brain is a great recycler, we also use dopamine in the control of our movements. This means that one of the more serious side effects of antipsychotics is a problem with movement. This is typically going to be something called "tardive dyskinesia," which means "slow messed up movement," but in Greek because we're fancy. TD is dreaded because we can't always reverse it. A medication called benztropine can help, but the better option, if at all possible, is to get someone off the medication that called the TD in the first place.

If you're keeping track, you're noticing that dopamine does a lot in the brain: the reward pathway, psychotic symptoms, movement. Your body also uses it for stuff outside the brain, like affecting gut motility and blood vessel dilation. It is really hard to come up with medications that only affect one thing, because the body will use the same messaging systems over and over. This is a big part of why there's some much cross-talk between medications that are ostensibly for one thing but used for many other things.

First-generation antipsychotics can be particularly bad about making people feel flat and incapable of feeling joy. The technical term for "incapable of feeling joy" is "anhedonia," Greek again, this time for "no happiness." This is incredibly punishing and people will often go off their meds in order to feel something. I don't want to hear any bullshit blaming people who do this. You probably would too, and learning not to throw rocks from a glass house is critical to being a decent fucking human being. However, it does mean that I have much more success keeping patients on second-generation antipsychotics. There is both a lower risk of anhedonia and a lower risk of TD, so in general, unless someone doesn't respond to second-generation antipsychotics, they won't be started on a first-generation. I have absolutely used first-gen antipsychotics for patients but they're more typical in the inpatient setting, where it's okay--and sometimes a good thing--if someone is sedated. One memorable example was in an emergency department where a woman was violent and had to be restrained with both physical restraints and a spit hood. We can't just go around sedating people these days--that's a whole-ass thing, because for a long time "treatment" in inpatient facilities was too often taken to be "sedation"--but boy howdy, she needed some Haldol.

I also work part time at the county jail, and while I again try hard not to use first-generation psychotics in patients who didn't come in on them, there are patients who actively request Haldol because they hate how being totally wound up and psychotic feels. I write for them to have as-needed oral doses. This means if they ask the jail nurse for it, they can get it, and it helps immensely.

The leading cause of death for patients with mental illness is heart disease. Antipsychotics tend to cause weight gain, and that is not only psychologically distressing to my patients because we live in a fatphobic world, it's probably related to worsened insulin function. Unfortunately, just putting everyone on an antipsychotic on preventative metformin (a medication that improves insulin sensitivity) also didn't work when we tried it, so we don't do that. But it's scary. I'm actually really hopeful that this new GLP-1 agonist med class that's in constant shortages because it causes weight loss (Ozempic, Wegovy, etc.) will be an option to help improve long-term health for psychotic patients. Some antipsychotics are worse than others for weight gain, but there are few genuine head to head comparisons of effectiveness, so I can't say "X works better than Y," we just have to pick one based on a) my familiarity with it and b) whether it seems like a good idea. I also feel it is better to be fat than dead, so if someone needs one of the more fat-inducing antipsychotics to live their life and/or have a decent quality of life, I'll prescribe it and I fucking dare you to talk shit, I will eat you.

My clinical experience has been that Seroquel and Abilify are the best-tolerated antipsychotics. I don't know why. Someone else might, but those are the ones I usually reach for unless someone is having really severe symptoms, in which case I think risperidone works faster. Data are, again, generally pretty weak.

But mostly I want you to remember that psychosis is not a funny punchline, "psychotic" is a shitty fucking insult to use, and someone you know and love probably has psychosis. Some people have a single break and it never happens again, some people can control it with medication, some people need to be institutionalized. It's a life-changing illness and people with severe psychosis, yes, even the weird ones who scare you, are still human beings whose lives have exactly the same inherent value as yours, and who deserve the exact same inalienable human rights as you do. Any other approach is garbage. Human rights are not negotiable.

[bakafox]

Health Problems and Doctor Frustrations

So I mostly really like my GP. She never once has given me hell about being fat, and for the most part she really does seem to listen to me. In fact, I can't even say my frustration is because she doesn't *listen*.

But. (Warning, talk of pissing ahead.)

For over a year, I have had off and on (mostly on) bladder problems when I try to sleep at night. I am kept awake for HOURS because within five minutes of lying down, I have to pee, even if I did it before bed. And then when I get back to bed, I have to pee again.

And again.

Sometimes I have to pee again by the time I'm even done washing my hands after peeing.

And this could go on for HOURS. Almost every night.

At first we thought it was a medication I was on for nightmares/PTSD dreams, Prazosin, which was also maybe responsible for me getting weird tingles in my arms in bed.

Well, I got off that and I THOUGHT both problems were fixed for a bit- but then the peeing started again. And I honestly could not tell you now if it even DID stop for a while or if I'm having wishful thinking and memory issues.

And then there was speculation it could be my lithium prescription, or how that might be why I also do just pee more every day than most people, but not like the night peeing. I was tested AGAIN for diabetes in case that was why I pee so much 'normally'.

For over a year I've brought it up every time I've seen my doctor and she's listened and then said "It sounds like overactive bladder, I could get you to urology, or it maybe can be treated with pelvic floor exercises or medication."

BUT. And this may be more a problem with my neurodivergence rather than her- she's never made it sound like she really thought it was all that bad/enough to warrant her writing me a prescription or telling me what exercises and she usually brought up it could be a long wait to see urology and- I always walked out of the office feeling like my problem was some kind of nothingburger despite it keeping me up at night until some nights, (like last night,) I was in fucking tears because all I wanted to do was sleep but my body just kept making me pee for hours.

Today I did break down into tears in the office especially because today even AFTER waking up and getting upright I was having a near-constant feeling that I needed to pee, AND because last night I went to bed at fucking 10pm, but couldn't sleep and stop peeing until after 2am. And then I woke up and had to pee at 3am. And then I woke up and had to pee at 5am. And then I woke up and had to pee at 9am.

Anyway, today, once again she talked about how it could be treated if it's overactive bladder but she also finally, FINALLY, got me a referral to urology. So I have that.

But I'm also so fucking frustrated because I could have and probably should have had a referral to urology months ago? But I kept walking out of the office not insisting on one because it felt like my problem was honestly too minor a problem.

Which again, could be my brain being the problem more than my doctor. But gods it's still just got me ready to kick something.