#And I've never dealt with this before and I don't know how to help her

[general-illyrin]

.

[paladinncleric]

Neighbors.

Pairing(s): Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: Tara and R are neighbors

Warning(s): fluff, bad writing

Words: 1k+

A/N: I couldn't find the request but here you are, this is very rushed

My eyes fluttered open as the Uber driver wakes me up. I payed and thanked him as I dragged my legs up the stairs of my apartment complex because the elevator was broken...again. I could barely comprehend my surroundings as I tried to get to my apartment. The tiredness of my 12 hour shift weighing down on me heavily.

As I finally reached my apartment, I looked for my keys. In my pockets? nope, not there. My bag? not there either. As I started to grow frustrated, I remembered I kept the extra key under the mat. But guess what? that was also not there. I felt like ramming my head through the wall but that will not help my situation.

Reminder to self: never give your extra key to your friends and then forget the original one at work. I can't even ask them to bring it as it's 2 in the fucking morning.

I cursed out loud as I kicked my door in a state of rage and tiredness that I completely forgot other people lived here too.

My last resort was to kindly ask my neighbor if I can spend the night at her place, who happens to be my very good friend and the person I've been in love with for the last year and a half. I nervously walked in front of her apartment and raised my fist to knock, my fist was left hanging in the air, when the door suddenly opened and I was faced with a pissed-off and sleepy Tara.

"I guess I was not being as quiet as I thought I was huh?" I said with a chuckle as I smiled awkwardly.

"That was you? I thought it was the Smiths down the hall going at it again." She said with a tired giggle.

"Why were you being so loud so late anyways?" She said with a chuckle as she let me in.

She stared at me expectantly for an answer with that cute little smile on her face as if she knew the effect she had on me. Probably she did, I was never really discreet with my staring. I snapped out of my thoughts as I answered her.

"I may have locked myself out of my apartment." I said with a frustrated sigh as I rubbed my head already feeling a headache coming in from the lack of sleep.

"What really? what about that key under your doormat?"

"Yea, that's the prob-how do you know about that?" I asked confused.

"Y/N/N you do know that, that's the first place someone would look for a key if they're trying to break-in? Also I saw you open the door with that once."

"I-I knew that! I just thought no one would try and break in..." My voice lowered in volume into a whisper as I continued, finally hearing how ridiculous it sounded.

Tara doubled over in laughter as she saw that I even doubted the things I said. And I stared at her fondly, loving the sound that filled the room. She wiped the lone tear from her face from the laugh and faced me with a huge grin.

"So what happened to it anyway?" She said chuckling still trying to recover from her fit of laughter.

"Mindy took it when she stayed over last time and forgot to return it."

"So what I got from this is that you don't have a place to stay?" She inquired.

"Basically, yeah"

"And as an amazing human being and an amazing friend I offer you my place for the night" She said with a grin as she gestured to her place.

I'll admit the 'friend' part stung a little but nothing I haven't dealt with before.

"Thanks so much Tar,I owe you one!" I exclaimed as I went and hugged her.

“Yeah yeah, stop acting like it’s your first time.”

She seemed to melt in my embrace, as she hugged me back tighter. I reluctantly let go as her scent was so hypnotizing.

"Let's get you in some comfy clothes" She said as she smoothed out the shirt and slacks I was wearing.

As she was walking away I 'discreetly' checked her out. She was wearing a white tee which rode up over her hips and black booty shorts which were too short to be honest. It's going to be a hard night.

----------

"Hey, you ready?" She asked as she poked her head into her room.

"Yea, I'm done." I said as I put my work clothes into the dirty clothes basket from what I was instructed earlier. I was in a black tee with grey joggers.

I turned around and saw her blatantly checking me out. I raised my eyebrows at her and she matched my expression once she caught my eye. I shook my head smiling at her goofiness and she chuckled.

"Where'd you get these clothes from anyway? They’re too big for your tiny self." I inquired.

Tara scoffed, “Bold of you to be rude to me tonight when I can easily kick you out.”

I raised my hands in mock surrender as she glared at me.

“They're Sam's, she left her clothes here the last time she stayed over."

"Makes sense."

After a moment of silence I couldn't fight my exhaustion any longer so I asked if the guest room was available.

"Well Sam is coming here in like 3 hours from her shift. So she would you kick you out if she found you sleeping there."

“Thought so.” I say bummed out as I thought of sleeping in the sofa. I started gathering my stuff and moving towards the living room when she stopped me.

After a moment of contemplating she asked, "Wait why don't you sleep in my room and I'll sleep downstairs on the sofa?"

"Nope, not happening it's your apartment I can't let you do that." I objected.

The bickering went on for a while until we both agreed to sleep on the same bed.

I mean it’s not like I haven’t slept over before, it’s just there’s always been someone from our group present.

----------

"So, which side of the bed do you prefer?" I asked.

"I prefer the right one, but you can choose tonight."

"Then I'll take the left one." I decided.

She shrugged and started to get ready for bed. After we were all tucked in, me laying on my back facing the ceiling, and her on her right side facing me. As I stared at the ceiling contemplating whether I should turn to face her too, I noticed her staring at me with a dazed expression.

"What?" I asked as I turned my head to face her.

"Hmm?"

"Why are you staring at me?"

"I don't know." I raised my eyebrows at her amused.

I turned to my left side completely and stared at her while she stared at me. I noticed a small smile appearing on her lips as she looked at me with a loving expression. I lost all my train of thoughts as I looked at her looking at me.

She's so beautiful when she smiles even if it's a small one, it can light up any room, the way her eyes squints and crinkle around the corner when she smiles too wide, the cute little dimples that forms on her cheeks. The way she laughs with her whole body and has a habit of leaning on things when laughing. The automatic pout that forms on her lips when she's sad, and the smirk present on her face most of the time when talking to me, that cute sexy smirk.

"Penny for your thoughts?" She asked.

"My thoughts are worth more than a penny." I grinned back at her.

"I'm sure they are." She said with a chuckle,

"Seriously, what're you thinking about?" She asked again, genuinely curious.

"You." I answered honestly.

“Me?" She asked surprised.

“Yea.”

“What about me?” She asked interested.

"How amazing you are." She raised her eyebrows at me.

“That’s awfully nice of you say.” She said with a soft smile.

I shrugged as I stared back with all the love I had for her pouring out.

Suddenly, she moved forward and hugged me tightly and buried her face in my neck. I hugged her back just as much as tightly and laid my head on top of hers. We stayed like that for a bit, then she pulled back a bit but still wrapped up in my arms.

"Y/N/N?"

She looked up and I looked down at her and answered.

"Yea?"

"I love you."

My heart fluttered and ached as I smiled slightly and answered.

"I love you too."

"Really?"

"Yea, why? are you doubting my love for you?" I said in a teasing tone as I moved some of her bangs from her eyes.

"Do you love me as just a friend?" She asked looking back and forth in my eye trying to find answers.

"Tara what are you trying to say?" I asked as I felt my heartbeat getting faster. She placed her hands on my chest on top of my heart.

“Your heart’s beating very fast.”

“I know.”

She stayed there for a moment with her hand on top of my heart, avoiding eye contact.

“Tara.”

"I'm in love with you." She blurted out.

I blinked multiple times and stared wide eyed at her. As she looked in my eyes for a bit then continued speaking.

"I have been in love with you since I first moved in here 3 years ago. You helped me with my mental health, whenever I felt anxious or scared you'd cook me your famous spaghetti and we'd watch horror movies all night even though I know you’d rather watch something else. I know it's too much to know right now but I just needed you to know, I couldn't wait any longer." She finished her confession.

I stared at her for a few seconds trying to process all this. I heard her sigh and starting to move away from me. Overcame in panic, I did the first thing I thought of and have been wanting to do for a while now.

I kissed her.

Her lips were so soft and smooth and tasted like cherry and honey as I cradled her jaw. I felt her reciprocating as I started to slowly move my lips against hers. There were no rush, we just laid there gently moving our lips against each other. She cradled my face in her hands and I rested my hands on her waist. We parted when there was a need of air. Both of us panting a bit as Tara rested her forehead against mine.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that for." I said slightly panting

"Eh, I had an idea." Tara grinned as she leaned forward and gave me a firm peck.

"For the record, I love you too." I replied with a grin as the butterflies came alive in my stomach.

-----------

I groaned as I felt myself waking up. I fluttered my eyes open as I realized I'm in Tara's bedroom, all the memories from yesterday flooded my head, I smiled bashfully as I looked beside me to see the spot empty, but I could smell the pancakes in the air. I got up from the bed, stretched my muscles and scratched me back while yawning and went out of the room to see the cause of that heavenly smell.

I walked out of her room, to see her cooking pancakes in the stove with her back to me. I walked slowly towards her and leant against the counter. And loudly yelled out "So, what'cha making?" She jumped at least 3 feet from the ground.

"Y/N/N you scared the shit out of me!" Tara exclaimed as I burst out laughing, she smacked my shoulder with a spatula as she started pouting.

"Not my fault you get scared easily." I said with a shrug as I massaged the place she hit. For someone so small she sure could hit.

“Yea, I wonder why.”She glared at me as she sarcastically spoke.

I chuckled as she went back to making pancakes while I sighed dreamily as I stared at her being so domestic.

"I can feel you staring at me creep." She laughed as she turned around to give me a playful glare.

"You weren't discreet with it then, and you still aren't now.” She said with a smirk as she looked at me over her shoulders.

"Just so you know, I wasn't trying to be discreet." I replied with raised brows.

"Yea sure ok, whatever helps you sleep at night." She said with a sarcastic tone.

This bitch-

"Oh please don't be so flattered I wanted you to know." I said with a wave of my hands.

"Uh huh" She replied with a tone so obvious that she doesn't believe me.

I stared at her with a glare as she started to laugh loudly after glancing at me over her shoulders. I went behind her sneakily as I saw her put the last batch of pancakes on the plate and started tickling her. She jumped and screamed as she tried to get away from my fingers. But I trapped her in between the counter and me and started to tickle her more.

"Y/N/N STOP" She screamed out as she started struggling in my arms, I let her take a bit of an advantage as I loosened my arms a little and she moved away.

She started running towards the living room as she looked over her shoulders to see me running after her with an evil smirk and my fingers wiggling in the air in her direction. She sped up and screamed.

"Y/F/N I SWEAR TO GOD I'M GONNA KILL YOU IF YOU DON'T STOP THIS!"

I tackled her to the sofa and started tickling her again as I straddled her. And she started laughing uncontrollably as she tried to move my fingers away from her.

"OK STOP STOP I SURRENDER I GIVE UP I GIVE UP" She shouted and I finally stopped, both of us panting for air after all that cardio. I stared down at her as she stared up at me, still panting. I swear to God in that moment I've never seen something more gorgeous than her.

She had her hair sprawled across the sofa, bare-faced all red from laughing too much, sweating and panting as she looked up at me with this happy and content look in her eyes, it made my heart burst with joy, I felt like jumping around screaming dancing not believing that she loved me back. My stomach filled with butterflies and spread through to every inch of my body. I could feel my serotonins being released just by looking at her. She was my serotonin.

I started to lean down with the intention of kissing her, she looked up at me expectantly as she waited for me to close the gap. My hands on either side of her head as they supported my weight, when I was about an inch away from kissing her, she wrapped her arms around my neck.

"You're so very wrong if you think I'm gonna let you kiss me after the torture you put me through." She said with her lips brushing against mine then suddenly she pushed me off of her on the floor as I groaned and she got up from the sofa.

"And come quickly dumbass the pancakes are already cold because of you.” She said as she walked away swaying her hips to the kitchen, and I know she was smirking. I sighed contented as I laid there even though my butt hurt from the fall, it was worth it. God, I loved this girl so much.

[girlgenius1111]

you don't have to pretend with me

ona x reader -sickfic ish

from a request- the req was for r with chronic pain but i've never experienced that and i didn't want to write it incorrectly, so i changed it to something i have some history with :)

You hadn't had a real period in years, having been on birth control since you were a teenager. It really limited the effects of your horrible symptoms. It was simple- a shot in your ass every three months was something you could handle. However, you'd completely forgotten to get it this time. Normally you planned your next visit at the end of your appointments, but the secretary had been out, so you were supposed to call to schedule the next appointment. It had completely slipped your mind, and by the time your realized your mistake, it was too late, and they told you that you had to wait 3 months from when you were supposed to get it, in order to not mess up the cycle.

It didn't really make much sense to you, but you didn't have a choice. All you could hope was that it wouldn't be as bad as you remembered it. The first month wasn't bad, barely more than what you usually dealt with on the shot. The second month was worse, but still, manageable, especially considering it came during an off week. You were quickly approaching the third month, and you knew it wouldn't be as easy this time.

2 days before you were supposed to get it, you found yourself in a heinous mood. You'd been short with everyone, all day, even Ona. Ona, your girlfriend, who had literally no idea what was going on. It felt ridiculous to you, to complain about what was going on when every other woman dealt with it to. You'd never heard Ona complain about her period, and you didn't want her to think you were weak.

More than that, you weren't sure she'd believe you. In your last relationship, anytime you were sick or in pain, your girlfriend didn't believe you, or told you that you were being dramatic. You didn't really realize how this affected your relationship with Ona, but as you hadn't told her this, she didn't know you'd been hiding almost any sign of weakness from her.

So, you just mumbled something about having an off day when she asked why you were so grumpy. She pretty much left you alone the rest of the day, giving you the space she assumed you wanted. The only time she spoke to you was to come into the living room where you were curled up on the couch, and wish you a goodnight, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead.

-----

You woke up in the middle of the night to the sensation that someone was standing on your abdomen. It had been so long since you'd actually had cramps, you were almost alarmed, until you realized what was going on. You didn't want to get any blood on the bed, nor did you want to wake Ona up for something so trivial, so you quietly padded into the bathroom, changed your pajama shorts, and then headed out into the kitchen in search of some painkillers.

Every step was agony, and you were walking hunched over, as what you could only describe as lightning strikes of pain rippled through from your belly button down to your core whenever you tried to straighten up. You didn't make it to the cabinet you kept the medicine in, instead collapsing into a chair at the kitchen table. As soon as you sat, the zaps of pain were replaced by a continuous ache across your stomach, and around to your back.

You couldn't help the groan you let out, as you twisted uncomfortably in your seat to try to relieve the pain. It didn't work. You knew what would work, but you were absolutely sure you couldn't stand up again and make it to the medicine cabinet. Instead, you put your head in your hands, feeling tears slowly leak out of your eyes. That only made you more frustrated, which in turn made you cry harder, until you were trying to stifle sobs with your hands at the kitchen table, in the dark, at 1am.

-----

Meanwhile, Ona woke to an empty bed. She remembered you climbing in with her after she'd already gone to sleep, waking up just enough to roll into you and smush herself as close as she could. This time, though, your side of the bed was empty and cold, and Ona was disgruntled. Sleepy Ona was a grumpy Ona, something you knew very well, and she squinted her eyes open, looking over at the bathroom door, seeing if you'd just gotten up briefly. The light was off in there, though, and your side of the bed wasn't warm, indicating that you'd been up for at least a couple minutes. Sighing heavily, Ona sat up, intending to wait for you, arms crossed, to return to bed. When she saw no lights were on in the rest of the house, though, she decided to get up and find you.

The only thing she could think was that you'd gone to sleep on the couch, which didn't make any sense. You'd been grumpy yesterday, sure, but you'd gone to bed with her, and allowed her to snuggle up to you, which you wouldn't have done if you were angry. Walking down the hall, heading for the living room, she heard an odd noise in the kitchen.

She changed directions, turning right instead of left, and discovered you, slouched over at the table, crying softly into your hands. Ona was immediately distraught at the idea of you getting up in the middle of the night and leaving your bed to cry by yourself, no matter what the reason, and not waking her.

"Cariño, qué pasó?" she asked, voice raspy with sleep. At her words, your head snapped up, looking at Ona with pain etched clearly across your face. "Amor," she says sympathetically, moving forward to stand by your side.

"Oni, go back to bed," you try, attempting to sound firmer than you felt.

"Not until you tell me what is wrong." Ona replies, actually succeeding in being firm. She brushes a loose strand of hair off your face, then combs her fingers through you hair. You melt at her touch despite yourself, before you hunch over again, another wave of pain shooting through your abdomen; you'd straightened up to much. You whimper quietly, and Ona's hand pulls off of you, worried she'd done something to hurt you. That gets you talking, never wanting Ona to think she's the cause of your pain.

"It's just cramps, Ona, I'm fine," you insist, even as your face scrunches uncomfortably, and you grit your teeth through another jolt. Though confused, seeing as though she'd never known you to have bad cramps, Ona wraps her arms around you without another thought, lifting you easily to carry you back to bed. She may be short, but she prides herself on being strong enough to carry you easily, despite your many objections. "Oni," you whine, yet still, you clutch onto her tightly, resting your head on her shoulder.

"Shh, let's get you back to bed."

Once Ona gently places you back on your side of the bed, she stands back, looking at you with a determined expression. It's almost funny really, the girl standing in front of you, wearing a baggy t-shirt and shorts, wavy hair wild around her head, trying to look stern. Ona couldn't look stern, she wasn't capable. She could only ever look adorable, at least to you.

"What will help you feel better?" She asks.

You bite your lip for a moment, before the pain wins out over your independence. "Paracetamol, please," you murmur.

She nods once. "Anything else?"

You're sure there's something you're forgetting, but it's been so long since you've had cramps like this, and it hurts too bad for you to think straight. "I don't know," you whisper finally, tears spilling over again.

"Okay amor, relax, I will take care of you," the brunette says gently, leaving you with a peck on your forehead. She's only gone for a few minutes, but when she returns, you've curled yourself into a little ball on the edge of the bed, as far from her side as you could get, obviously trying not to bother her. Ridiculous, considering she wasn't going back to sleep until after you did.

She gives you the medicine, handing you a new cold water which you accept gratefully. Then, before you can tell Ona to get back in bed, she leaves the room again. She returns fast this time, holding something in her hands you don't recognize.

The defender doesn't explain, either, even though she notices the questioning look on your face. Instead, she climbs onto the bed behind you, and nudges you out of your ball to lay in between her legs, head resting back on her chest. Still silent, she rolls your shirt up, massaging the skin of your abdomen lightly. Her warm hands feel so good, you let out a sound of relief. Smiling to herself, Ona places the heating pad she brought with her across your abdomen, clicking it on. You soften completely against her, letting out a long sigh.

"Thanks, Oni," you mumble, and she kisses the top of your head in response. She isn't done with you though, patting your arm lightly when your eyes flutter close.

"Do you normally have cramps this bad?" she asks, because the thought of you hiding this from her, like you'd been doing tonight, once a month for the entirety of the time you've been dating, makes her nauseous.

"No," you tell her sleepily, briefly explaining the situation you'd found yourself in. Ona is quiet for a few moments.

"Why didn't you tell me? And why didn't you wake me up tonight?" she wonders, not able to fully hide the hurt in her voice. You're fully awake now, almost reading her mind as you realize what she's worried about; that you don't trust her.

"I didn't think it was a big deal," you say quickly. "And I didn't want to bother you with it, with something that every woman deals with," you justify.

"Amor, you hurting will always be a big deal to me." Ona insists. "You should have woken me up. Do you... do you not trust me? Did I do something to make you thing I would not take your pain seriously?" the brunette asks, and you wince at the question. This was your problem, not Ona's. Could she not see that?

"No, Oni, of course I trust you. It's... it's not about you." You pause. "I didn't want you to think I was being dramatic or weak."

"Why would I think that? Why would I not believe you when you say you are hurting?"

All she gets is a shrug in response, and she feels you shutting down again. Unwilling to let that happen, she presses you further.

"No, amor, tell me. Did someone make you feel that way? Like you could not be honest about how you were feeling?"

You don't respond for so long that Ona thinks you've fallen asleep, or just aren't going to answer.

"My ex. She used to tell me I was being dramatic when I was sick. She was right though, I was," you rush to justify.

Ona's arms tighten around you slightly, and it reassures you. When she responds, you recognize an angry tone in her voice, but also a protective one.

"That is not what a good girlfriend does. I will never do that. You are allowed to be in pain, and be sick. You are not being dramatic for feeling things. It does not make me think any less of you, and it certainly does not make me think that you are weak." Ona declares.

"Are you sure? I'd understand if you thought I was exaggerating." you say quietly. At this, Ona tilts your chin up and to the side, so she can look into your eyes.

"I found you crying at the kitchen table, you were in so much pain. That is not dramatic, not to me. I am sure." Ona promises, and she feels you relax against her, if only slightly.

"I love you," you say quietly, voice cracking on the last word.

"Te amo mucho, cariño. Mucho mucho." Ona pairs her words with several gentle kisses pressed into the side of your head.

"Ona?"

"Sí?"

"Can I go to sleep or will this light on fire if I don't turn it off," you ask seriously, referring to the heating pad laying across your abdomen. You've never used one before, and you aren't sure what the safety requirements are. Apparently, this is a dumb question, because Ona bursts out laughing, disturbing the quiet murmur of voices you both had been keeping to.

"Sí amor, you can go to sleep. I'll put you out if you light on fire, te prometo," she tells you, still laughing. You roll your eyes slightly before allowing them to flutter shut, even though you know Ona can't see the gesture.

"Wake me up if it starts to hurt again?" she asks, seriousness returning.

"Te prometo," you say, echoing her words for just a second ago. A grin tugs at Ona's lips at your spanish use.

"Bueno. Goodnight my pretty girl," Ona whispers into your hair, her use of an english term of endearment making you blush.

With that, both of you allow yourselves to drift off. You're sure, now, that Ona will not care if you wake her up. Ona is sure that you will wake her up. Or, that she'll wake up if you do, seeing as though you're sprawled on top of her. She doesn't expect perfection, or for you to start coming to her with all your problems right away. She finds that she doesn't mind having to demonstrate her love to you, though. If there's anything she loves to do, it's remind you, everyday, that she loves you unconditionally.

-----

[oval3000]

Chapter 5

Yandere Teacher Nanami x Student Reader

Warning: Abuse, (force) smut. Abduction, violence, rough play, toxic behavior, age gap, everything from all above. Mainly from his point of view...somewhat... modern au- ish idk. College teacher x student.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 6

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"Mr. Nanami?" A man in a suit knocked on his classroom door. Nanami was grading some paperwork before his next class. He turned to the side and saw the man alongside some police officers." I hope we're not interrupting you? I'm detective Aki, this is officer Yamada and officer Fujikawa. We want to ask questions about one of your students, (Y/N)."

"Sir." Nanami stood as the man and two police officers entered, closing the door. Nanami knew this day would come. How could he not know? "Of course. Miss (Y/n) hasn't attended my classes for the past month.

"That's why we're here. Her friend had filed a missing person's report on her and we just want to know if you may know anything regarding her disappearance." The detective said.

"The last time I saw her, was when she was sitting on one of the campus benches. I asked her if everything was alright and she told me she was waiting for her ride." He explained. " She seemed a little down and mentioned something about an ex-boyfriend. I've dealt with many of my students who were dealing with hard breakups so I didn't think too much of it."

"Ex-boyfriend?" The detective said.

"Yes. I don't know his name it was never said, but she did mention an ex-boyfriend and by the look of it, it's not something she seemed happy about." Nanami looked at the detective as he jotted down what he was saying.

"Was she acting strange while attending your classes before her disappearance? Did she seem a little down?" Aki asked.

"No. She was a normal student. In fact, she was my best student. Although she had trouble with one assignment, she would stay after her classes for help. Other than that, she was fine. However, I am a teacher with many students, so I might've not pay too much attention to her because of the others, who might be in the same position as her. College is college. Nothing changes." Nanami fixed his glasses and sighed. "Her family must be worried sick if she hasn't shown up." Nanami asked, almost looking a bit sad.

Aki raised his eyebrow. "Have you noticed her disappearance?"

"I did at first. She never missed a class ever. Then again. I have many students who don't bother showing up for months."

"Why is that?" He asked.

"They want to give up. Math is too hard. Struggling with mental illness. I've been working here for ten years, I've seen at all." Nanami sighed, looking down at his papers. "Sadly, no matter what I do, I can't always fix their problems when it's out of my reach. I should've asked Miss. (Y/N), about what was bothering her that day. That was my mistake."

Aki looked at Nanami, who still kept a normal composer. "So her disappearance wasn't too strange for you?"

"Like I said, at first it did. Then again, it's not the first time a student stopped showing up here. I guess I was wrong about that." Nanami raised his eyebrows. "Has anyone seen her since then?" He asked so concerned.

"No, we're working on a timeline on who might've. So far, you're the last person who has seen her. However, no one mentioned an ex-boyfriend before." Aki tapped his little notepad with his pen.

"Oh. it makes sense now." Nanami scratched his head.

"What makes sense?" Aki questioned.

"When she mentioned the ex-boyfriend, it went like this." He hummed, " 'My ex-boyfriend is a jerk who only thinks about himself. We were hardly boyfriend and girlfriend since we dated for three months.' It was confusing to me. I don't know what these young adults think now about relationships; now there is a thing called situationship' or whatever it's called. Every day, I hear students talk about their 'situationship'—are they boyfriend and girlfriend? I don't know what kids are up to these days." He explained. "I was puzzled because, aren't boyfriend and girlfriend, boyfriend and girlfriend? Now, I realize, it must've been one of those situations where you're just with a guy, just cause, with no title. Now it makes sense why it's called situationship'. Either way, it can still break someone's heart. Maybe that's why no one mentioned him; it didn't seem like what they saw was a relationship. Nonetheless, for Miss (Y/n), it must've been more than that, but it was overlooked."

"Did she mention anything about this ex-boyfriend or lover she had?" The detective asked, jotting down as much information as he got.

"No. She was on her phone during the little conversation we had so it was cut short. I swear those kids are always on their phones like they're addicted to them." Nanami picked up his papers and hit them on the desk countertop to straighten them in place. He checked his watch and saw the time. "My next class is about to start. Is there anything I can help with?"

The detective closed his notepad, "No that'll be all for today. Thank you, Mr. Nanami." He shook his hand and headed his way out alongside the two officers.

"Oh! Please tell (Y/N)'s family my condolences. She's one of my students here. Hope she's found soon." Nanami said.

The detective gave him a sympathetic smile, "Sadly, her parents died recently, in a car accident. I'll tell her friend though, she's worried sick about her."

Nanami went back to teaching his class. He went on to be a normal regular teacher. He saw the detective and two officers roaming around, talking to other students and teachers. He kept his usual face and went on with his day. He would hear his colleagues about you, how they're saddened that you just vanished.

Some came up and spoke to Nanami since you were in his class, and he gave them the same type of response he gave to Detective Aki. When he got into his car, he drove off.

He went on to run some errands really quickly and got some snacks and a beverage. He went and decided to stop by a public library and started to use the public computers and continued to do some paperwork and make new homework and test assignments.

He looked at the time got up from his chair, logged off, and walked away from the library building. He got back in his car and drove off to a food place.

He ordered a meal for himself and ate in his car while grading more of his paperwork. When the sun was completely gone, he went to a copy, and fax machine place that was open 24 hours and started to make multiple copies before heading his way home near midnight.

He did this routine for 3 weeks. 3 whole weeks. 3 torture weeks for him.

The day he saw a man getting arrested on the college campus with Detective Aki and the two officers, his 3 whole weeks ended.

He got out of work, he went on to the library, and used the computer for some time. He went to an electronic store and bought himself a new computer. He got into his car and drove home.

He opened the door that was inside the garage and placed the store bag on the kitchen counter.

He walked upstairs and opened the bedroom door. "Sorry, I'm late. Work has been chaotic." He stared at you with your eyes glossy and the rag on your mouth. Your hands were still tied up to the headboard. He went towards and touched the rag and pulled it out. " Sorry about this, sweetheart. It was just a precaution. On the good news, they arrested that ex-boyfriend of yours. It wasn't good for him when they saw all the texts he had 'sent' you. Too bad they found your phone on his property."

"P-please...don't hurt me...Please don't hurt me." You cried to him.

He grabbed your cheeks with his hand, "Who's your best friend?" When you didn't answer him, he grabbed onto you harder, "Answer me!"

"E-Emi." You told him.

"Well, that Emi bitch made those 3 weeks a living fucking hell for me and I'm not too happy about that, sweetheart." He sighed and let you go. "At first I thought your family was gonna be in my way, but it turns out is Emi. Tell me, what should I do?"

You shook your head.

"You're right. It'll be too suspicious." He got on the bed and laid next to you. "I'm just happy to be with you." He slid his hand down to your body and stopped once it reached your stomach. "It must've been lonely here for you. Tell me something else, do you want some company while I'm gone?"

You felt your body shiver with his touch and talk. "N-no."

"No? You're fine here without me? Because if you ever feel alone, I can change that." He rubbed your stomach.

"I'm fine. I-I'm okay." You pulled your knees up to your chest feeling chills going through your body.

"I love you, I hope you know that." He said, smiling at you. He pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your body. "I'm doing this all for you."

He kissed your cheek, "This is all for love."

SPOILERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Sorry for the long wait! R.I.P to Nanami 😩)

[fanficsformyfaves]

Reunion

Shaggy Rogers x Daphne Blake's Sister!Reader

WARNING: Nothing but Fluff <3, Mutual Pining, Reader is a Black Belt in Karate

PREFACE: When the gang first split up, of course Shaggy was devasted, but he was more upset that he would never get to see Reader again. That was until they all reunite in the airport for a mystery they were invited to solve two years later

A/N: Flashbacks in Italics!

There aren't any stories about my husband and I am deeply appalled!

SHAGGY'S P.O.V.

"Come on, Scoob. Like, we're gonna be late for the flight", I say,

Packing up our Scooby snacks for the trip, while he dealt with our clothes.

"Oooh, Rooby Snacks"

He says, trynna grab a piece, to which I bat his hand away.

"These are for the trip, man!", I scold,

As he huffed, zipping up our bags. We hail a cab, toss our luggage in the trunk and hop in.

It's been a while since we had a totally rad mystery to solve. Like, as terrifying as those creeps were, I miss getting to work on cracking the case...and getting to hang with (Y/N).

She was like, the most perfect girl in the world. Like, imagine all the best things in one person. Even all the hotdogs, sundae ice creams and rollercoasters couldn't come close to how beautiful she was. She never failed to make my heart do summersaults inside my chest.

But I never had the guts to tell her that. I mean, she was super cute and I was the goofball of Mystery Inc.

So, I knew I had no chance.

"Raggy!", Scoob snaps me out of my thoughts,

Nudging me with his elbow and letting me know that we made it to the airport. While grabbing our bags, I look over at the large tree by the entrance and my heart drops like a sack of potatoes.

There she was in all her glory. With her pretty hair and eyes that shined like gumdrops. She was just as pretty as I remembered. I could already feel the goofy grin settling on my face.

YOUR P.O.V.

"Want anything from the gift shop, while I'm in there?", Daphne questioned,

"I'm good- oh! Maybe food from the McDonald's next door?", I request,

Looking up from the book I bought prior to getting here. I watch as my sister gives me an unimpressed look, placing a hand on her hip.

"What? I missed breakfast!", I retort at her reaction,

"And who's fault is that?"

"Um, yours? If you hadn't hogged the bathroom all morning to do your hair, I would've had enough time to make some food"

"Well, excuse me for caring about my appearance. You think all this takes five minutes?", she says,

Gesturing to herself. Once she realized there was no getting through to me, she accepts defeat by sighing to herself and rolling her eyes.

"Fine, but just this once. That stuff will kill you"

"Not fast enough, apparently", I answer,

Getting back to my reading. She shakes her head, before walking off.

"Be back soon, ciao"

"Ciao", I replied,

Without averting my gaze from the pages.

As I was waited for her to get back, I decided to grab the water bottle I had in my backpack. Just then, my journal falls out from one of the compartments

Jeez, it must've been a while since I've cleaned this out.

I flip through the pages and come across one that was covered in hearts with arrows shot through them. The letters (Your First Initial) and S added together on the insides.

I've always had a thing for Shaggy. He was always such a sweetheart. I remembered how he would always give me the cherries off his sundaes, regardless of how much he wanted them.

"Shaggy, you don't have to keep giving me the cherries, if you want them", I say,

"Like, I know you want them, so...let me be a gentleman", he says,

Picking one off the vanilla ice cream and handing it over to me. For the first time ever, I decided to rid myself of the familiar shyness I was always plagued with and take it from him with my teeth, causing a bright red hue to brush against his cheeks.

"Like, wow", he giggled shyly.

Not to mention, how incredibly cute he was. I couldn't help but sigh at the memories of those pretty blue eyes staring back at me.

I knew I should've said something before we all split up, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it and besides, he probably didn't feel the same way.

As I was strolling down memory lane, I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"HiYAH!", I yell,

Hitting whoever it was in the shin, before pinning them to the tree by their throats. Once I realized who it was, I gasp.

"Like, wow", he grinned,

I couldn't help but feel a weird sense of Deja Vu when he said that.

"Shaggy! I am sorry!", I apologize,

Pulling away and fixing his shirt.

"Just as strong as I remember", he says,

Rocking back and forth on his heels, with the same old laugh I remember falling for. I chuckled and bent down to pick up my stuff.

"Oh, let me help you with that", he says,

Getting down and accidentally butting me in the head with his, causing us both to fall backwards, exclaiming in pain.

"Owie!", he whines,

Grabbing his forehead, as I laugh doing the same.

"Good to see you again, Shagster", I say,

"(Y/N)", I hear a familiar sound coming from behind me,

I turn around and see the best boy in the world.

"Scooby!", I yelp in excitement,

As he ran over, barking and greeted me with a lick to the face.

"Hiya, boy!", I scratch at the back of his head,

Whilst his tail wagged and foot tapped softly on the grass.

"Like, he really missed you!", Shaggy says,

Making me turn to face him.

"We both did", he admitted shyly,

My heart skipping a beat listening to his words.

"I missed you too, you screwball", I kid,

Getting back on my feet and finally embracing him. At first I felt his body stiffen against my touch, but he eventually melted into me and his arms go around the small of my waist.

We pull away and our lips were merely inches apart. It felt like time stopped and everything else disappeared around us. In that moment, we were the only people to exist.

"(Y/N)?"

"Shaggy?", I whisper,

Feeling the magnetic current pulling me closer towards him. Just as we were about to close the space between us, we were interrupted.

"Oh my god", Daphne says,

Carrying my food in her hands, watching us leap out off each other's arms.

"Shaggy?", she calls out,

"Oh, like, Hi, Daph!", he says,

"What are you doing here?", she chuckles,

Walking closer towards us and handing my the paper bag and drinks.

"Well, Scoob and I got this super creepy invitation to solve a mystery on-."

"Spooky Island", they both say in unison,

"Like, how groovy, man!"

My head snaps in his direction.

"Wait, you got invited too?", I ask,

"Well, yeah! Didn't you hear about the all-you-can-eat buffet they're hosting?", he questions,

Making me laugh to myself. Of course, he would go for the food.

"Well, let's hope we're the only ones who got the invite", Daphne says,

Walking into the airport. We take a moment to look back at each other, before shrugging and picking up my belongings. We trail behind her and made our way through the bustling crowd. I take a bite of my burger, before looking over and finding Shaggy ogling at it.

"Hm?", I hum,

Offering him a bite.

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly-"

"The plane won't be serving food till three", I interrupt,

"Who am I to deny such a gracious offer?", he jokes,

Making me chuckle to myself.

"Wanna go halfsies?", he asks,

"Sure", I agreed,

Watching him split the burger in half and handing me the bigger piece.

"Thank you", I say,

Continuing to enjoy my share, along with the fries I was already sharing with Scoob. I throw a fry in the air and laugh as the pooch jumps up to catch it.

While walking, Scooby grabs the dufflebag Shaggy was holding and made his way to the bathroom.

"Where's he going?", washing down the last bite down with my drink,

"Oh, you'll see", he replies,

It takes us a while, but we finally get to the check-in, where Daphne proceeded to argue with the man behind the desk.

"What do you mean I can't have seven carry-on bags?! That is so economy!", she complains,

"Yeesh", Shaggy muttered to me,

"Oh, that's just her makeup. You should see the suitcases full of costume changes and hair products", I say,

Making the tall geek laugh at my joke. I look around and my eyes fall on two very familiar faces.

"Daph?", Fred called out,

Catching my sister's attention.

"Crap", Velma muttered to herself,

"Oh, no. I'm not talking to you guys", she snapped,

Pretending to zip her lips shut and throwing away the key, but alas, she could not control her anger.

"What the heck are you doing here?", she questioned,

Watching the pair make their way over to us. That's when Fred eventually notices me and Shaggy.

"Oh, hey, you two", he greets,

We couldn't do anything but wave awkwardly.

"Isn't it obvious? We all received the same letter from one Emile Mondevarious...the reclusive owner of Spooky Island", Velma explained,

"It's not fair! I was gonna solve the mystery all by myself for the first time ever", Daphne argued,

As Fred scoffed. Oh no.

"How are you gonna save yourself when you get caught?", he poked fun at Daphne's past of always being the damsel in distress,

"I'm a black belt now. I've transformed my body into a dangerous weapon", she answered,

As him and Velma laughed at her response.

"It's true!"

"Far out! I guess we're, like, all going to Spooky Island, man!"

Daphne rolls her eyes and returns her attention to the check-in employee.

"Hey, where's Scooby?", she asks Shaggy,

Just then, the Great Dane, or should I say, Great Dame, emerges from the crowd. All dressed up in an long-sleeved dress, cheetah print reading glasses and a straw hat.

"Hello, sorry", he says,

Navigating his was through the fellow airport patrons.

"They don't allow big dogs on the plane", Shaggy explained nonchalantly,

As I let out a shocked laugh.

"You've got to be kidding", Velma protested the ridiculous disguise,

"No one is stupid enough to believe that", she added,

"Who's the ugly old broad?", Fred asks,

Leaning over to Shaggy. Velma shakes her head at Fred's naiveness and folds her arms over her chest.

"Say hello to Grandma", Shaggy announced,

"Attention. Flight 3774 to Spooky Island is now boarding", the announcer alerts through the telecom,

Everyone, besides Shaggy and I, groan before heading towards our terminal.

SHAGGY'S P.O.V

"Shall we?", I move over and gesture for her to step in front of me,

"My my my, what a gentleman. Just like I remember", she smiles,

Walking ahead.

"Nailed it", I sing to Scoob,

Before following behind her. We arrive inside the plane and take our seats. A moment passes and Scoob nudges me, before holding up the neck pillow we brought.

"Aaah"

I quickly picked up what he was putting down.

"Say, (Y/N)", I call out,

She turns back to me.

"Could I interest you in some in-flight comfort?", I ask,

Offering it to her. She grins to herself, before taking it.

"Why, thank you, Shagwell", she says,

Putting it on. I turn to Scoob and he raises his eyebrows at me.

"Butt out, Scoob", I scold in a whisper,

Before looking back at her. I swear heaven was missing an angel. Like, how could someone be this perfect? I could feel the blood rush up to my cheeks every time she spoke. It always felt like that one time with the cherries. Oh, man, did it make my heart go all squirrely.

I was never man enough to tell her how I really felt back then, but those two years without her was pure torture, man. It made me realize that I couldn't put myself through that again.

So, I take a deep breath and finally plucked the courage up the guts to come clean.

"(Y/N)?"

"Yes?"

"If we ever make it out of this, you know, with our head still attached to our necks"

Making her laugh. Gosh, were her little giggles music to my ears. Focus, Shaggy, Focus! I shake myself out of my distracting thoughts.

"Would you maybe wanna...I don't know...like...go out with me?", I ask,

Cringing in anticipation for the let-down of a lifetime.

YOUR P.O.V.

Was I hallucinating? There was no way on God's green earth was the man I'd been crushing on for literal years now actually reciprocating how I felt.

I pinch at my arm and hiss at the pain that brought me to the realization this wasn't just a scenario I dreamt up.

"Ow!"

"Like, what was that?", he yelped concernedly,

"Uh, nothing, it's just...", my sentence trails off into an awkward silence,

"I would love to!"

"Really?", his eyes widen,

"Really?", Scooby repeats,

"Really! I mean, I don't know if you've ever noticed, Shaggy, but, I've always liked you", I admit,

"...Get outta here, like, me too!", he responds,

"Wait, what?! Why didn't you say anything?!", I questioned,

"Well, I mean...look at you", he blushes,

Making the heat rush to me cheeks too, as I pout in awe.

"You're so pretty and smart and nice...and you share your food with me! I mean, that takes a whole lotta moxie!", he explained,

Gosh, was he freaking adorable.

"That totally puts you out of my league!"

"Oh, Shaggy", I sigh,

Taking his scruffy face in my hands.

"You're the best guy I know", I reassure,

"Which is why I'm gonna do what I should've done a long time ago", I say,

Closing the gap that wedge us apart for years by pressing my lips against his.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 22

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Sinuses are trying but I'm fighting!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"There you are. Lots to go around," Frigga seals the top of another container. "It'll be a nice surprise, eh?"

"Uh, thank you," you offer a fragile smile.

"Of course, dear. I know how stressful it can be to care for the sick. Odin, my husband, had a scare a few years back. A heart episode..." she explains as she puts the large containers in a cloth bag, "it was a rather eventful family dinner, to say the least."

You let your smile fall. You're reminded of your father on the floor, lifeless, your mouth over his as you desperately tried to breathe life into him. The kitchen blurs around you as you revert to the horror of that moment.

"Darling," Frigga frightens you with a gentle squeeze on your forearm, "apologise if I said something."

"No, no, my dad will be happy," you roll the tension from your shoulders. "Leslie too."

"Leslie?" She prompts curiously.

"His nurse. Sometimes she cooks dinner so this will save her some work."

"Ah, a nurse. That must be expensive."

"A little," you admit, "I have some stuff to finish up on still..."

"Oh, don't let me keep you any longer. I know how demanding my son can be," she pats the bag and slides it to the corner of the counter, "this will be waiting for you."

"Thank you. Again."

You turn to go, little, reluctant steps as you venture back into the large house. Dread slows your feet like a ball and chain as you climb the staircase, pausing every few steps to listen. Mr. Laufeyson is lurking somewhere, like a snake in the grass, you know it.

You turn towards the library and pass the open study door. You peek inside and find it empty.  You press on and knock before you enter the library. Alone, you shut the door and let out a heavy breath.

Your heart is racing as if you've escaped some terrifying race. You go to the desk and sit, leaning forward to plant your elbows in front of the closed laptop and cradle your head. What is happening? You can't handle all this. You need to get it together. But how? You've never dealt with any of this before; the spreadsheet, the woman coddling you, and the man who looms in the shadows.

Shoot! You forgot about Ronan. He's due to finish soon. You should go check on him. You stand up and spin, stopping short as a figure fills the door frame between the study and library. You stare at Mr. Laufeyson like a doe caught before a speeding car.

"You have some time," he raises his wrist, checking his watch; the black band and the blue face, that little accessory that caused so much trouble.

"Um, yes, I was going to see the carpenter--"

"I've dealt with him. He's loading up his truck now," Laufeyson slithers forward, "you needn't worry about him."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Laufeyson," you look down and open the laptop, stunned by the image on the screen. 

You expect your screensaver to cascade down but instead, there's a woman in a rather scant black and white outfit. Your lips part and you slam shut the computer. Your fingers rest on the lid as Mr. Laufeyson strides closer.

"Hope you don't mind I borrowed your laptop, my own was charging," he purrs, "bit of online shopping, seeing as my mother's hard work should save us some cost on culinary services."

"Mr. Laufeyson," you tremble, staring at the desk, "what..."

He hums and leans in, his fingers splayed wide as he places his hands on the wood, "what...hm?"

You steel yourself and force yourself to look him in the eye. You flinch at the darkness there and stutter. "Wh-what are you doing?"

He snickers and tilts his head, "I simply thought you earned a bonus with all your hard work," his tongue pokes out as he smirks. "It should suit you well..."

You take a step back, nearly falling into the chair as you collide with it. You can't hear above the pounding in your temples. No, it can't be what you think it is. He's not saying that. He can't expect you to wear that... that... thing. You stumble around the seat and scurry to the door, fumbling with the handle as his calm pursuit trails after you.

As you pull the door inward, it snaps back shut. His hand is above you on the wood as he pens you in against the door. You whimper and clutch the handle tightly, pressing yourself to the door as your heart hammers against your ribs. You shudder as his other hand curves around your waist.

"When it arrives, you will put it on," he commands, "and you will begin your duties as always."

"Mr. Laufeyson, please, I'm scared--"

"You needn't be," he purrs as he leans in to inhale your scent, his breath grazing your scalp, "you take orders rather well. I trust you will continue to do so."

"I don't--" you wisp as you brace the door, his fingertips poking into your side as he grips you tighter, "I don't want to..."

"Mm, pet, you should know by now," he loosens his hold on you and lets his hand stretch across your stomach, dragging it up to your chest as he brings himself flush to your back, "this isn't about what you want." He bends and nips your ear with a growl, "you wouldn't want to let dear old dad down, would you?"

You whine and twist the handle frantically. You're pinned to it as he continues to grope you, rolling his body against yours from behind as he groans. You're mortified as heat radiates from his touch and floods your veins. The flames lick at you and have you tingle as nuzzles you breathily.

"Didn't think so," he rasps and slowly draws away.

He backs away as your knees buckle and you slide down the door, crumpling against it. His shadow struts away as your hands shake and you watch them in a haze of shock. You're weak, you're stupid, and you're worthless.

You could scream for help, you could run out, you could try. But you won't because he's right. You can't. You need him more than he needs you.

💄

Mr. Laufeyson opens the door ahead of you, waiting patiently as he turns to watch you. You carry the bag of containers against your work bag down the hall as Frigga trails you. She informs you that she put a few extra goodies in as a surprise. You nod and thank her, trying not to show your discomfort as you near your employer.

"Thank you, mother, but I'm certain she is eager to be away," Laufeyson intones, "she has a loving father waiting for her at home."

You flinch. You still wonder if he'd witnessed that pocket dial or not. He's hard to read even when he's spelling it out clearly. You bid a final goodbye but scuff to a halt as Laufeyson stretches out an arm.

"Allow me," he takes the bag from you, his hand brushing yours before closing around the straps.

"Aw, Loki, my gentleman," Frigga preens, "darling, you have a good night."

You let him take the tote and your work bag. You precede him out the door, fluttering your fingers as if to shake away his touch. He follows you as his mother watches from the door. You keep your head forward as he comes close, sidling around you to open the passenger door before you can do so yourself. His behaviour sets you even more on edge. He's taunting you.

You get in and make yourself as small as you can in the seat. You refuse to look at him as you buckle in. He shuts the door and opens the rear one, placing the bags on the backseat before he diverts around the hood. He claims the driver seat, the car shifting slightly with his weight. He pushes the ignition and the car whirs to life. You fixate on the dashboard, trying to tamp out his presence and the memories nipping at your mind.

He clicks his belt into place and adjusts the mirror. He takes his time. You can tell it's deliberate. You don't understand him, but you're starting to. Everything he does is for his own delight, which he seems to draw only from your distress. You've never met anyone like him.

"A lovely day," he declares as he shifts gear, "wasn't it, pet?"

You blink and look at your lap, tracing a line on your palm.

"Now, don't be rude, I asked a question."

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," you mutter.

"You must be tired," his hand wanders from the stick to your knee, "why don't you close your eyes and enjoy the ride?"

"I'm okay," you fold your arms as he squeezes your leg.

"What is the matter, hm? You seem perturbed, pet."

You shudder and put your hand on his as it starts to crawl higher, "Mr. Laufeyson, please stop calling me that."

"I'm tired of your little game," he pinches the tender flesh of your leg.

"I'm not--"

"I've made myself very clear," he taps your leg before slipping his hand out from under yours, "I am interested and that's that. I am wealthy, attractive, I hardly see how it would be an issue..." he steers with one hand as he speaks to the road, "especially for someone like you."

It hurts. To have it said aloud. Not his intent, no, but your worth. Or, what you lack. Who are you to be picky?

You wiggle your nose and turn your face away. You don’t respond as your gaze pans through the window. Your eyes singe and your nose tingles. You feel like the little girl standing against the wall again. The whispers swirling all around you, fingers pointing, voices jeering…

The silence stretches the minutes to eons. You watch the streets pass and lean into each turn. Finally, he steers onto a familiar road. You’re almost there.

He slows and pulls against the curb outside your father’s house. You unbuckle the seat belt and he does the same. You glance up at him but he doesn’t notice. He gets out on his side as you hesitate. Before you can even get your door open, he’s halfway around the car.

You climb out, nearly colliding with the rear door as he swings it open. You sidestep it as he bends to reach within. He pulls out both bags, elbowing the door shut carelessly before stepping up on the pavement. You reach for your work bag and he evades your grasp.

“Ah ah, I insist, it wouldn’t be very nice to let you struggle with all of this.”

You pout. Nice? When has he ever been nice? He’s mocking you again.

“Mr. Laufeyson, please,” you beg, “I can handle it–”

“Go on, pet,” he motions ahead of him with the square tote, “it’s rather rude to refuse an offer of help.”

You cringe and shrug helplessly, throwing your hands up slightly. What else can you do but obey? He knows you have no other choice and he basks in that fact.

You turn and slouch, dragging your feet up the walk as he follows you. You search for an excuse to keep him outside. Some sort of out. He has to understand, your father is sick!

He trails you onto the porch and you stop at the door, facing him.

“I can get it from here,” you eke out.

“Nonsense, I don’t mind–”

“Please, Mr. Laufeyson, my father doesn’t feel well most days. He’s not fit for visitors.”

“I’ve come all this way. I know manners are hardly in vogue around these parts but it is only polite to invite someone in,” he reproaches.

You whimper. Why are you doing this? You don’t ask. You know already. He’s doing it because he can. Because you won’t stop him. You can’t.

“I don’t want you to go in,” you confess as you look down, “please don’t go insi–”

You hear the door, the loud groan of the squeaky hinges before the screen door hits your shoulder. You sidle out of the way and turn to Leslie as she pokes her head out. Her eyes flick up to Mr. Laufeyson and her forehead ripples in surprise.

“I was wondering what all the chatter was,” she opens the door wider, “what’s all this?”

“Um, Leslie,” you gulp, “I…” you blink and look at Mr. Laufeyson, “this is my boss. He just drove me home.”

“How nice,” she remarks, “that’s… him?” She steps out completely, “he’s your boss?”

“Loki,” he introduces himself, “charmed.”

“Me too, me too, I… Leslie, I help her father, I’m the nurse,” she explains.

“We brought dinner,” Laufeyson lifts the tote higher, “my mother wanted to send her well wishes. She heard about her father and wanted to help out.”

“That is so sweet,” Leslie fans herself, “please, sir, come in, come in, Charles will be so happy to meet you.”

Doom crashes down on you. You stand back as Leslie holds the door open and you only vaguely hear Laufeyson’s insistence that you go first. You move in a fuzzy sludge, barely aware of the world around you as your legs carry you on habit alone. 

You stand in the front entryway as Mr. Laufeyson hands over the bag. Leslie takes it with glee and hurries away. You sway and touch your forehead. You wince as he touches your arm.

“Mm, this place is… vintage,” he muses as he nudges you, “please, introduce me. I’ve heard so much.”

You breathe out shakily and curl your fingers into fists. You give a pleading look. You’re already too embarrassed to tell him the truth. He doesn’t want to meet your father and your father doesn’t want to meet him.

You surrender and turn cautiously. You meekly pass through the entryway, your father’s shoulders hunched over the table as he works on the puzzle. You shuffle closer, standing just behind the corner of the couch.

“Dad,” you utter, “um… this is my boss, Mr. Laufeyson. He, er, he brought us some food.”

“Eh, is that what she was going on about?” He snorts into a cough and covers his mouth. He makes no move to rise as he reaches for another piece.

“Charles, is it?” Laufeyson steps forward, stopping just beside you, “I prefer Loki. It’s a pleasure to finally meet.”

“Chuck,” your father snarls, “call me ‘Chuck’.”

“Of course, Chuck, I didn’t mean to presume.”

Your dad tosses the peace and scoffs. He coughs again and stands, adjusting the tub below his nose as he rounds on his visitor. Mr. Laufeyson doesn’t waver as your dad scowls in his direction.

“Wonderful home you have,” Laufeyson offers his hand.

Your father looks at his fingers then narrows his eyes at his face. Mr. Laufeyson is a head taller, though your dad is wider. He claps his hands against your boss’s and tries to jerk his hand. The effort teeters your father but does not affect the other man.

“You’re the one dressing her up like your little whore,” your dad sneers.

Mr. Laufeyson laughs curtly, “pardon?”

“Look at that skirt,” your father spits.

“Better than the rags you supplied,” Mr. Laufeyson retorts without pause, “I can see she didn’t get her manners from you.”

“What did you say to me, boy?” Your father’s face contorts with rage, “you come into my home and– and– and–” 

Your father coughs between each word until he’s racked and quaking. He grips the armrest as he leans forward and covers his mouth, unable to stop the fit. You go to help him but Mr. Laufeyson blocks you with his arm.

“He has his nurse,” he says brusquely.

“Please,” you beg.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you are,” Laufeyson lowers his voice dangerously as your father heaves, clutching his chest. 

“Fuck off,” your dad chuffs out.

Laufeyson snickers and sighs, “are you always so hospitable, sir?”

“If I wasn’t chained to this thing,” your dad clutches the tube trailing down his chest.

“Alas, you are,��� the taller man shakes his head, “let’s not. We have a lovely dinner waiting for us. A real man might even be grateful.”

“I’m not hungry,” your father turns and drops onto the couch. “Choke on it.”

Mr. Laufeyson lowers his arm and takes your hand without a look. He drags you away from the couch. He pulls you level with him and commands you to lead him. You take him into the kitchen where Leslie stands by the stove, the radio buzzing on the shelf.

“Just gonna pop it in the oven for a couple,” she smiles, “hon, why don’t you grab some plates?”

“Yes, why don’t you,” Laufeyson urges, “we’ll sit down and have a lovely family dinner.”

[dent-de-leon]

I could be wrong, but--just thinking about how the twins assumed it was obvious Mollymauk was heading to a brothel. How he clearly knows that, lets them believe that--"I know what the others think, but..." And all this time when he sneaks out in the dead of night, he's really playing the hero, running off to protect someone in need.

And just, I don't know. I think about how Mollymauk was so devoted to Lestera, and we never see him actually indulge in a relationship with anyone else in the comic. How he's still so lonely, and tells Yasha so in a moment of vulnerability--when she catches him in the midst of Choir Practice, this side of him he doesn't let anyone else see. He admits to her that, "The world is harsh and cruel, and I don't seem to be able to just walk on by. You see a wrong? You fix it."

And then when Yasha says she'll stay with him, help him, that's when Molly lets a bit more of his true feelings bleed through. "Suppose I could use the company. I am recently out of a relationship the hard way..." He lets it play off like a joke, but it's incredibly sad and personal. I've lost someone too, he says. I'm lonely too. He doesn't quite know what Yasha's been through, but he can feel the kind of grief and pain she carries. Knows enough to know she's also been dealt a harsh loss, that they both know what it means to feel Empty and lonely.

Thinking about. Molly being a tease and a flirt, but never seeming to commit. Jester listening in on his antics in the Pillow Trove, and Taliesin saying, "It's mostly ridiculous conversation through this whole thing."

Thinking about Caleb and Fjord watching Molly flirt in Hupperdook, both of them assuming he'll run off to have some fun for the night.

Travis: "I turn to Caleb and go, 'I think I may be regretting my roommate choice for the night. It's just a hunch. I think he's in his element.'"

Liam: "Well, the odds are that you're not even going to see him in your room tonight, so I wouldn't worry about it so much."

Travis: "You think? He'll just like, tear off into the night and not come back until the sun comes up?"

Liam: "He's like a coyote. You know what that is?...Yeah, they like to fuck a lot, is my point--"

And they're being ridiculous and half joking, and Molly happily encourages it, but--it still feels like how Mollymauk lets the twins make assumptions. Like the most he does is a bit of playful teasing and some charming words. At the end of the night, he's still back in his room with Fjord--carrying Fjord to their room, because the poor guy's passed out drunk.

Thinking about how Lucien's personality was another facet of Molly's, how they can both be so silver-tongued and disarmingly charming. How Lucien cared for his late lover so much, and how he never found another partner. (He still flirts with Caleb though. Molly's still a part of him, so of course he does. But that is something Lucien also tries to keep his distance from, to keep fun and teasing. Trying so hard not to think about how the forehead kiss Molly gave his wizard feels far too much like his own goodbye to his fallen partner--)

And Mollymauk absolutely having those feelings for his magician. Those feelings ever enduring, even after Lucien, even after another death and rebirth. "Oh, you're cute, Magic Man--" And even then, Molly never actually gets to take that chance. To tell Caleb how he feels. It means something, I think, that he becomes bolder and more forward with his wizard when he wakes as Kingsley. No longer carrying his past lives' loss and grief and painful memories.

I think that's where Molly was always headed, honestly. There's so many parallels to how both Molly and Yasha lost their partner before the campaign, how they each try to cope with that in their own way. And, like how Yasha eventually opened up to Beau, eventually healed to the point where she was willing to start another relationship--I think Molly was gradually warming to that point with Caleb.

Realizing there was someone else he wanted to let into his heart, that he could find happiness again and it would be what Lestera would have wanted. It also seems like Molly was holding himself back from that a bit because he felt Caleb wasn't ready; still so withdrawn and closed off, not yet ready for the pain and vulnerability of another relationship. But, he wants to wait. For Caleb, he's willing to wait. For lifetime after lifetime. And that to me is the proof that Lestera and Caleb were Molly's only true loves, I think. Aside from dear Yasha, of course--his kindred spirit, platonic soulmate--

But romantically, I don't think he ever gave his whole heart to anyone the way he did for them. It speaks volumes to me, that when King wakes with little to no memories, it's still Lestera and Caleb his heart longs for. When he dreams of the circus, he immediately starts asking about her, over and over, "There was a--oh. There was a circus. And a...a beautiful woman, in a red coat. She was telling me secrets, showing me how to keep secrets. Show secrets--I...Where's the woman? No, not her...where's the woman--"

Thinking about how Kingsley still woke with feelings for Caleb too. Immediately told him he was cute, started biting his lip. Can't help flirting even in their last scene together, "Magic Man. Looking good." How Caleb was someone Molly ached for even when Lucien had his soul caged and tormented, "Caleb. Softness and light."

Like, I could be wrong, but. I don't know. I just don't think Molly had quite as much relationship experience that everyone imagined. And instead of having a string of lovers, it feels more like he just liked to give the illusion of it. A romantic who loved with his whole heart, and only really gave it to a close few--

[loves0phelia]

miguel o’hara x nurse!gf pls

All This Time?

Summery: the request

Words: 1.1k

Warnings: injuries, getting hurt on purpose, grammar mistakes.

A/N: Thank you :)

You and Miguel met each other on a normal day. Usually when you meet someone new nothing very extraordinary really happens but your encounter with him was so uncommon it felt like it was staged.

Still wearing your usual blue scrubs, holding a well needed coffee after a 16 hour shift, you were on your way out of your workplace. You went to violently open the entry door of the hospital,  but you hadn't noticed Miguel on the other side. So when you slammed it open the door stopped abruptly making your nose knock right into it.

Your coffee dropped from your hand right onto the white tiled floor.

“Shit!” You yelled, your now unoccupied hand came up to your face to hold your nose in pain.

“Dios mío, are you okay? I'm so sorry” He finally came around the door. His body was towering over yours and his gentle eyes observed you in pure concern.

“Do I look okay?” tears had welled in your eyes involuntary because of the impact.

“Not really…” he admitted, not sure what more to say.

“Of course I don't! im dirty, i smell and now I have a swelling nose” your salty tears were now rolling down your cheeks. This accident was your last straw.

“Would it make you feel better if we went to the coffee shop around the corner? it would be better than that cold hospital coffee you had” he eyed the brown liquid now dripping into a bigger puddle and then lifted his gaze to yours. 

“I- sure” you wiped away your crocodile tears and passed him to finally go outside the building. You couldn't stay one more second inside that place.

That night you and Miguel had coffee, and a pastry he begged you to taste, but you also shared numbers.

You guys ended up calling the next day to meet again, and the day after that and the next one. Which led your friendship here.

Almost two years later after he proposed you a job, you were now a nurse at HQ. He had seen how bad your work conditions were at your old job and couldn't live with knowing you were treated badly at work. Now, he was your boss and Miguel would always make sure you were comfortable and happy, especially after you learned about him being spider man and the entire multiverse. Nothing could stop him from doing so and you knew he would never let you down.

“Lyla, could you tell Peter I've gotten Mayday’s report back and tell him she only has the flu. Nothing to worry about '' you call out to the AI. Even though she wasn't physically present she had ears everywhere in the headquarters in case a spider person needed her help.

“Consider it done!” She appeared out of thin air and talked in a bubbly manner. But that wasn't unusual for her. Lyla was always cheerful.

“Also, Miguel is on his way” she added before disappearing and you couldn't even react to her statement before Miguel came through the door out of breath, as if he had been running a marathon.

You watched as he made his way into the medical bed, he groaned and shifted trying to find a comfortable way to lay down.

“How many times do i have to tell you to be careful during your missions, almost seems like you do it on purpose” you sighed before gathering your equipment to treat all of his injuries.

His hologram spider suit disappeared and you noticed the large bruises forming along his chest. Your eyes examined the rest of his body and you frowned seeing the various other scars and cuts.

“i thought it was the Rhino anomaly again” You said, genuinely concerned about his health.

“it was” Miguel’s eyes avoid yours.

“How come you're so banged up then? You've dealt with the rhino anomaly hundreds of times. You know how to get rid of it” You said in a scolding tone.

“I know” he kept his eyes low.

“what happened?” you said now lowering your tone.

“you were right” his eyes finally found yours. 

“About what?” you asked, confused,

“I did it on purpose,” he admitted and something in you snapped.

“What the hell! Why would you do that? You could've gotten seriously hurt” you were angry and sad at his confession.

“I knew I wouldn't have gotten hurt badly, I knew what I was doing ok?” He tried reassuring you but he failed miserably. You couldn't understand why he would do this to himself. You couldn't stand to see him hurt.

Your hands worked on his injuries furiously but still gently enough not to hurt him anymore. He tried explaining but you were not letting him.

“y/n stop please. Let me explain, caríno” he grabbed your hands to stop any of your movement and you sighed, accepting to finally let him speak.

“Ever since Iost Gabriella i never allowed myself to love anyone else, but when i met you i knew instantly that i could not resist you. I tried countless times to ask you out and express how I felt but everything I did felt wrong. The only way I managed to see you and talk to you was when I got hurt during missions” he sat up in the bed as his hand squeezed yours but you couldn't bring yourself to look up at him.

“So you thought the best idea was to get hurt purposely to be able to be near me?” you spoke lowly.

“yes, i know it was a bad idea-”

“It was the baddest idea Miguel! I thought you knew i loved you” you slapped your hand on your forehead.

“wait what? you love me?” he genuinely asked.

“Of course I do, you big idiot, you didn't notice all the times I looked at you? or all the times I wanted to be around you?”

“Now that you mention it-” his cockiness makes you grab the nearest pillow and slap it on his head.

“Okay, Okay I'm sorry!” you both laughed.

“So you're telling me I was getting hurt on purpose to get your attention all this time for nothing?” he smiled and you almost melted on the spot but you still nodded. 

Slowly he leaned in and placed his lips against yours. He lingered there for a moment like he was asking for permission, silently, and then he placed a delicate kiss on your soft lips. 

It was slow but passionate and in this very moment you never felt more happy.

“You're telling me I could have been kissing those pretty lips all this time too?” you giggled, nodded and pressed another kiss to his lips.

[detshin]

uhm, how exactly will gosho develop the cousin thing in the manga.

I mean, I wouldn't know, honestly. What goes on in the mind of that man only he knows (and sometimes I doubt even that).

My opinion under the read more...

Personally, I've already stated many times that it's a trope I've liked and headcanoned for a long while now, and it's not like it's COMPLETELY out of the blue. The whole "they look the same" is a big factor, there have been references to them having some sort of "ancestor" in common, the Toichi and Yusaku tease was already there in the childhood case of Shinichi (where Toichi appeared and called Shinichi big bro btw 👀) and there was a time long ago that Gosho said something about it in an interview and that it was going to be talked about.

Anyway, point is, I could see this going in different ways. I would LOVE to see this being explored and dealt with nicely and seriously, but my hopes for that are low. He'll either just have it mentioned and never more explored or talked about (like with akemi and akai), or maybe in the mk manga now to talk about Toichi, I don't know?

Because honestly, I feel like people are getting hung up on the cousins thing and are forgetting about the confirmation of what we all have been fearing and it's that Toichi is indeed alive and both of Kaito's parents suck ass. And what scares me is the possibility of it being comedic or Kaito being okay with it or something when he deserves to have that be explored. He became a criminal because of it! And his parents know and aren't doing ANYTHING!

I've said this before, MK is not as shits and giggles as it seems. Story is pretty darn dark if you think about it. Kaito is one of if not THE most solitary (lonely) character of the dcmk universe. He is not as the fandom tends to represent him sometimes. That's not Kaito. The over the top, flirty, pompous one is Kid. It's a mask. A facade. Kaito is not like that, he is just a teen who is struggling to make real connections with people and who is terrified of being found out as a criminal and cannot for the life of him let people IN because they'll see right through him and whose "dead" dad taught him NOT TO SHOW HIS EMOTIONS.

Kaito NEEDS some support. Jii alone is not enough. His own parents have lied to him his entire life and he's constantly alone, grieving for something that is not real. He has Aoko, but he CAN'T let her in completely for obvious reasons. Hakuba's there, but same thing. And I'm sorry but Akako I don't really think counts either, he actively seems not to really even like her or whatever...

MY POINT IS. If Kaito can get some new family members that could support him... Why refuse it, no? I'm not talking about Yusaku because he's also been keeping him in the dark and all and hasn't really seemed to do anything about it. But Yukiko (yes I'm choosing to believe she's also oblivious to Kaito being put in that situation) and Shinichi? Oh, those two could do wonders for someone like Kaito, in my opinion. Because Yukiko is Yukiko (she was born to be the cool aunt), and Shinichi is... Well... Shinichi. He could understand Kaito and actively show him support and help. They COULD be amazing as family.

Now it's all just a matter of... Does Gosho WANT to go that deep into this? Or is he going to continue to disregard Kaito's suffering and not give him anyone to lean on?

Anyway, cousins Kaito and Shinichi rule!

[cryptidghostgirl]

The Line (Port Mafia!Dazai x Port Mafia!Reader)

Pairing: Dazai Osamu x Reader

Description: Something is there, but if they both pretend it isn't, then everything is okay.

Warnings: Angsty but also more fluff than angst I think, mafia stuff, bomb talk, its Dazai so double suicide mentioned once. Sex also mentioned in passing like once. I think that is it, please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 1,262

Master Lists:

All Master Lists 

Bungou Stray Dogs Master List

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

A/N so i found a screenshot of this tumblr post of this quote on pinterest and besties,, I am running with it. I will add the quote in at the end.

Was it his hand on the small of her back? Was it the feeling of his whispered breaths against the shell of her ear? When had the line been crossed, if it had been crossed at all? Neither really seemed to know where it had even been drawn in the first place. Perhaps that was the trouble with it all.

Danger was a part of life for those unlucky enough to call themselves members of Yokohama's notorious Port Mafia. It was the only constant, in Y/n's eyes. Well, danger and Dazai, but they were kind of one in the same, weren't they?

"Belladonna."

The same low, constant hum. She looked up from her desk.

Dazai stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with an aloof air. He'd grown quite a bit in the two years since she had met him. She supposed she must have grown as well but, somehow, he still seemed to be exactly the same. It was the calculating quality of his gaze. It was the smirk, the way the light glinted off his hair.

"That's new."

Y/n gestured towards the man with the end of the pen she grasped in her hand. Almost without thought, he raised a hand of his own to the bandage on his left cheek.

"I suppose it is."

They were never supposed to have even met one another in the first place. Their jobs were ones that should have pulled them far apart from each other's graces. He was an executive, after all, and she was just a lowly clerk. She dealt with numbers, paying off people who needed paying off, covering up the footprints of great men like him. He was supposed to send his subordinates to deal with her. That was what everyone else always did. Dazai wasn't like everyone else though, was he.

"I've got something for you." he stated, straightening up and taking a few steps into the room, his hands firmly in the pockets of his coat.

Y/n raised her eyebrows.

"What is it, another job?"

"A present."

Dazai pulled a box from his pocket, snapping it down on top of the work Y/n had splayed out over the desk's surface before her. It was large and flat. She eyed it suspiciously.

"It wont bite."

"You do."

"I said it, didn't I?"

"What is it, a bomb? Think it would be funny to watch me struggle to deal with something like that?"

"Don't give me any ideas." Dazai playfully replied.

"Is it full of anthrax? I have already told you, I have no interest in committing a double suicide."

"Just open it."

The Mafia was a dangerous place, those who worked there lead dangerous lives. There was no denying the living, breathing thing between Y/n and Dazai but... there was no place for such a creature here. Besides, neither of them would know what to do about it if there was. They had both forgotten how to be gentle long ago, were unsure if it had ever been in their nature in the first place. All that was left was the sharpness.

Hesitantly, Y/n picked the dark red box up and opened the lid. Nestled in the black velvet of the interior was a necklace. It was old, an antique locket of sorts with a few flowers engraved on its oval front.

"Nightshade." she commented.

"Made me think of you, Belladonna."

That was one of the things that helped tow the line, the invisible and complex line. Y/n never called Dazai anything other than his last name and Dazai only referred to her as 'Belladonna.' At first, the name had irritated her. It had felt like a denial of her personhood, her individuality. That was before she had known there had been a line to cross at all. She was older now, wiser. She looked back up at him.

"How sweet." she bitterly replied.

Dazai smiled his lazy smile in response. A girl could give up everything for a smile like that, even her life. Y/n wouldn't though. If she was willing to, that was mean it was all lost. They would have crossed the line long ago, if that were true. They couldn't have that. The line was what kept them safe, kept hem sheltered, kept them. He closed the distance, stepping up beside her in the space behind her desk.

"Here."

Long, slender fingers snaked around the locket's delicate chain, pulling it from its bed. Y/n's breath caught in her throat as his fingers brushed against the back of her neck, securing the necklace. It felt heavy against her chest, a foriegn weight that seemed to cut right through her skin to her bones below. Gently, he slipped a hand under her chin, tilting her face up to him.

"Perfect." he hummed.

Had they already crossed it? Was it too late? If so, what had been the deciding factor? Was it the late nights up on the roof, talking till the sun rose? Was it the knocks at her door at odd hours? Had it been their legs tangled together beneath the covers night after night, no sex required?

"Thank you."

What needed to happen, what change had to occur for them to be able to say the words that echoed in the backs of their minds?

Dazai's hand lingered on her face for a moment longer. Y/n mourned the warmth of his touch as he dragged his fingers from her.

"I have to go."

Y/n sighed, turning back to her messy desk.

"The work of a Mafioso is never complete, is it."

A statement, not a question. Dazai let out a light laugh in agreement. Y/n picked her pen back up, listening intently to his footsteps as he crossed back over to the door. At the sound of a pause, a hesitation in the pattern, she looked back up.

"Same time same place?"

She smiled. Tonight, the kitchens. Stolen food, stolen time. Stolen kisses too most likley.

"Yeah."

Belladonna. Something poisonous, something detrimental. Something completely and entirely his, if he was brave enough to take her. Dazai wasn't so sure he was, not right now at any rate. Dazai was a man who didn't like uncertainties. In fact, he avoided them at all nearly costs. He didn't know if the day would ever come when the bravery or the assurance would arrive. With things as they were now, it felt inevitable. A ticking bomb, a precariously placed glass. One wrong move, and everything would shatter.

With a curt nod, he disappeared back out into the hallway. Y/n listened to his footsteps against the carpet of the hall as he retreated, picturing the way he must look in the moment, wondering where he was off to.

The line was there, the brick wall between them. They both knew it. How far was too far? Was it holding hands as they walked down the street, checking to make sure no one could see? They already did that. They already did a lot of things. Maybe... maybe the line would dissolve when the fear left or, maybe, when it felt more manageable, they would be able to cross it, if they hadn't already.

How far was too far?

Y/n reached her hand up to her chest, fingering the cool silver of the locket where it hung at her collar. Maybe, just maybe, they had gone to far already. Maybe the world was already falling down around them, they just hadn't noticed it yet.

----

Here is the quote that inspired this:

[ohtobeleah]

Sticks & Stones // A ToE Blurb

Summary: The one where Rooster finds out about the time you absolutely let loose on your daughter during her teenage hellion years while he was on an eight week deployment. And the one you find out you weren’t the only one who kept parenting secrets.

Warnings: Angst. Teenage hellion Odette Bradshaw. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Platonic Rhett Abbott x F!reader.

Word Count: 4k

-> Fade away from reality with the Terms of Endearment series here

I think throughout your parenting life together you and Rooster keep certain things from each other. Not out of spite or with malice intentions. It would be to simply keep the other from spiralling or needing to worry about a situation that had already been dealt with. That had already been handled appropriately and most likely to a parenting degree that would be deemed acceptable by the other party. 

“I remember this one time mum tore shreds off me after I got an after school detention.” This one can be titled: “The one where Rooster finds out about the time you absolutely let loose on your daughter during her teenage hellion years while he was on an eight week deployment.” 

Odette Fitch knew it wasn’t just because of the after school detention. She was big enough and grown enough to understand her wrongs as a teenager—but that didn’t make the pill any easier to swallow. 

“I've never seen her like that before nor do I ever want to see her like that again.” Odette explained all the while she sat by the fire— burning bright orange and red embers in the fire pit Chase had built, explaining how Harrison, her threenager, got in trouble for kicking dirt in some poor kid’s eyes during free play at daycare. “I didnt understand why she was so mad, why she was so emotional but fuck dad–I get it now.” 

“I don't think I know about this one?” Bradley shook his head softly as he took a sip from his beer bottle. “When did you get an after school detention?” Odette can't help but to chuckle, of course you hadn’t told him. You went off like no tomorrow which wasn't like you at all. Your tolerance for bullshit was usually pretty high–but that particular day Odette and her teenage antics had pushed you to a limit that even scared you. It was no wonder you never mentioned it to Bradley. 

So, Dot spills the beans, she finishes her beer and settles a little further into the back of her camp chair and lulled her head to the side to tell her dear old dad about the time she saw you burn in. 

Fourteen Years Earlier: 

“When your father hears about this Odette you better count your lucky stars that he doesn't ship you out to Wabang or better yet, Australia!” 

“It's not that big of a deal mum–” Dot trailed in behind you with her school bag slumped over her shoulder. She was too cool for school nowadays. “Everyone does it!” She’d been busted by a teacher, skipping P:E in favour of an excursion to the lake that bordered the school grounds. There was an old cabin out there one of the groundskeepers used to live in way back in the 70’s. Apparently it was haunted. Dot didn't think so. But she wanted to check it out nevertheless.

“You are not everyone, Odette, you are your own person with bodily autonomy and critical thinking skills and you should know better!” The consequences to Odette's actions had been a call from the principal's office in the middle of the day. You were beyond furious about being pulled away from work, work you were inundated with. What followed was a lengthy discussion with the schools guidance counsellor about your daughter's declining behaviour during class and her grade averages. Odette was smart; she just didn't apply herself–or just didn't see the point in doing so.  

“Uncle Jake said you hated school! Said you hardly ever showed up and that when you did it was to work on stuff in the metal room.” Odette thought she had you backed into a corner as you stopped and turned on your heels. “Yeah, I know things.” It was then you pressed your lips together in a fine line and wished Jake was currently in the US to feel your wrath. But he wasn't. No, He was in Townsville Queensland. In fucking Australia. It said so on the google calendar that sat on your kitchen countertop. The one everyone used. 

“Your uncle is a liar.” He wasn't. You hated school, it was hard being the smartest person in the room and feeling like you knew nothing all at the same time. You were a delinquent at best during your teenage years so the fact you had a teenage dirtbag yourself shouldn't have shocked you all that much. It didn't shock Jake that was for sure. The apple didn't fall too far from the tree he’d tell you when you'd call him just to rant about Odettes’ latest attempt at sending you to an early grave. “And we aren't talking about me, we’re talking about you and your grades and the fact you have an after school detention on Wednesday that I now have to leave work early to come and get your from when you know I work late Wednesdays!” 

There was a small pause in the argument that had begun to bubble over and before you knew what was happening—Odette was challenging you without hesitation.

“Oh i’m so sorry you have to leave work, not like you spend enough time there anyway!” Dot hissed. 

“Enough young lady, your father and I work hard to give you a good life.” That much was true—you never wanted your kids to grow up like you did. You’d do anything to keep a roof over their head and food in their mouths and keep clothes on their backs. 

“Maybe if Mr Carson wasn't such a tight ass–” Dot mumbled under her breath as she sighed and rolled her eyes. This sucked. Everything sucked. 

“Don't you blame anyone but yourself for this situation, Odette.” You pointed a stern finger at your daughter. “And be thankful it's me you're dealing with now and not your father, he’d be livid if he knew.” And then, Odette Bradshaw said it. For the first time ever she said something that tore your heart from your chest, rung it out like a wet sponge before discarding it in the trash.

“How can dad know about it!” She shouted. “He's in prison, remember?” Silence, Odette heard nothing but silence. No “Go to your room young lady.” or “You’re grounded.” Silence was all she heard as you stood there speechless trying to process what your daughter had just said to you. Odette took your silence as a leverage point, she thought she’d won the battle but decided to twist the knife a little deeper just to see how far she could push this new rhetoric. “Rooster isn't my real dad, so he doesn’t get to have a say in what I do and don't do.” Again you were speechless as you stood there with wide eyes trying to regulate the way your heart thumped against your chest. “And he's not even here mum! He's in the middle of the damn ocean somewhere so empty threats aside, I think I'll take my chances when he does come back.” 

Odette really did think she had you beat when you didn't say a word. She smirked, reached for her school bag that she'd dumped by the leg of the table and slung it over her shoulder before turning on her heels. It was then through a haze of rage and repressed emotions that you let your daughter, your first born, the first love you had ever known, have it. 

“Oh–fuck you kid!” You snapped through gritted teeth. Odette had never heard you swear before, let alone heard you swear at one of your three kids. “Fuck you!” When you said it again Odette just scoffed in shock. She was in utter disbelief. 

“Did you really just say that?” She asked softly, confused. 

“Yeah–yeah I really just said fuck you, and I mean how fucking dare you.” There was a rage behind your eyes Dot had never seen before. A sadness. “ After all I have done, after all that I have given to you, my life, my love, my body!” You paused as you stepped a little close to your daughter. “I broke my fucking vagina for that big fucking head of yours!” You spat, it was too much for Odette to compute as you spoke with venom lacing your tone. “And I had to be surgically sewn back together, I bet you didn't know that, did you? Well guess who does know? Your uncle because he was there! Not your fucking father!” 

Odette didn't know that, She always just assumed that her dad had been there when you gave birth to her. Why wasn't he there she wondered? Why wasn’t he there to watch her be born? 

“Oh and you calling him your dad, that's rich considering you have never known the man! So rich when the man who is your father, who is your dad in all the ways that matter most loves you so unconditionally that he adopted you as his own!” You were on a warpath and Odette was your target. “After all those years of your ‘father’ driving me insane with his abuse and his condescending ‘my loves’” You paused to hold back tears as flashes from your past played out like a rolodex behind your eyes. “He talked to me like I was worthless, treated me like trash until I got sick of it!” 

“Mum?” Odette tried to interrupt as tears began to stream down your cheeks. 

“I wanted happiness Odette–” Was all you sobbed. “I deserve happiness! I’m a fucking human being Dot!” You tried to pull yourself together because this wasn't about you or what you wanted. You were a selfless mother who gave everything you had to your children and this was the most vulnerable any of them had ever seen you. 

“Don't you dare bitch to me about my career, little miss ‘I’m so progressive!’ Yes! I worked my ass off to get where I am and I wanted it.” Flashbacks from the time Jake and your own guidance counsellor helped you graduate flashed before your eyes. They believed in you when most people didn't. When you didn't even believe in yourself. 

“I wanted to mean something in this world! I didn’t know that was a fucking crime!?” 

“Mum–” Odette was at a loss for words but nevertheless she still tried. You didn't let her speak. You weren’t done yet. 

“Life isn't perfect, oaky baby? We don't get everything we want. But you’re young, you know, so go on, go make the perfect little life that you want and you see how fucking easy it is and stop bitching and complaining and blaiming me! after all I have ever done and all I will ever do has been in your best goddamn interest.” 

It was Odette's turn to stand in silence, unsure of what to say back to you after your rant. It was clear she broke your heart—that much was evident, but Odette was too hot headed and knew what she thought was everything she ever needed to know. After all, she was fifteen. 

“I’m—“ As Dot when to speak, you held your hand up in order to silence your daughter. She hated the tears that streamed down your face as you refused to look at her. “Mum?”

“Go to your room, I’ve got to go get your brother and sister from school.” Without another world, it was just Odette left in the big house that usually houses five souls at any given time. She felt sick to her stomach for upsetting you so much. 

But as she heard the car start in the driveway she knew she wouldn’t apologise for it. You’d be fine. You were her mother—you had no choice but to love her even when you wanted to kill her. 

Present Day: 

“Now before you whoop my twenty nine year old ass, I did end up apologising and I did go to that detention and I’ve since learnt my lesson.” Dot scrambled to get all that out before Rooster had a chance to lean over and wrap his hands around his daughter’s throat. 

You’d never told him about that, Rooster never would have known if his daughter didn’t spill the test fourteen years later. And even if fourteen years had past Bradley knew that you probably thought about that fight a lot. 

“Your mother was right kid, I would have throttled you.” Bradley shook his head in disbelief, it was fourteen years ago but he was only finding out about it now. He felt like he was the last to know. He should have known, right?

Later that same evening when Bradley made his way home, he opened the front door to the smell of something homely simmering away on the stovetop. Homemade chicken and feta pesto pasta. One of his favourites. 

The portion size had dwindled from five to four to three to two back to three over the years, with kids grown and flying in and out of the house without a second's notice. But the one thing that always remained the same was the love cooked into the food you prepared for your family. No matter how little or how much. 

“Hey Roo.” You beamed as you took a sip from the glass of wine in your hand. You’d just finished cleaning up the kitchen after having used every possible surface available. “How’s Dot doing?” 

“She’s good, Harrison’s giving her a little trouble but she’s good.” Bradley explained as he made his way over to you. “But—she actually told me a little story about a fight the two of you had?” It was the taunting tone your husband used that made you immediately feeling hot in the cheeks. Bradley wasted no time in trapping you between the countertop and his torso, with strong arms encompassing you. “The one where you—“

“No she didn’t!” You cupped a single hand over your mouth with wide eyes when the realisation hit you like a ton of bricks. “That little shit head I swore her to secrecy!” Bradley reached for your glass of wine, he took a sip before he pressed his lips together and leaned in to kiss your cheek softly from behind.” 

“You never told me—“ 

“I didn’t want you knowing I swore at her.” You admitted. “You were deployed and I didn’t want you worrying about us at home and—“ Before you could finish your sentence, Rooster spun you around in his hood and had his lips on yours as he pressed you up against the kitchen counter top. His hands were firmly on your hips, holding you close to him lovingly. 

“Before anything, I am a husband and a father first baby.” He reminded you as he let his forehead rest against yours. “I know why you didn’t tell me, and I’m not mad you didn’t because you handled it better than I probably would have—“ Bradley explained as he pushed your hair behind your ear. “But I wish you didn’t have to deal with those very real and very valid emotions by yourself.” 

You paused for a brief moment, smiling up at your loving husband and the aroma of his favourite meal consumed the two of you. 

“Well if it makes you feel any better baby I wasn’t entirely alone.” You explained as you got to work plating up a bowl of pesto pasta for your husband. 

Fourteen Years Earlier: 

What Dot didn’t see was the panic attack that overcame you to the point you had to pull over on the side of the road to let it take its course. Memories of that fateful night and that bloodied devil-like smirk flashed before your eyes. Even after all these years the mere mention of your ex brought you to your damn knees in a crumpled heap. He was a monster. 

With Bradley deployed and Jake overseas a world away in the land down under, you reached for your phone and called the only person you knew would answer your call the first time round. 

“Boys!” Rhett’s loud and boisterous voice travelled down the hall. He was standing in the kitchen making his seven year old boys lunch. Turkey and cheese on wholemeal bread. “Quit fuck assing around, come get your lunch!” As Rhett flung the tea towel over his shoulder and started to pack up the mess he’d made making lunch for his boys—he felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. A loud thud came from the living room just around the corner—then? Complete and utter silence. If Rhett knew anything about his kids it’s that when a thud is followed by silence it’s usually not a good thing. “BOYS! you better both be alive when I round that corner!” 

Rhett threw the butter and the block of cheese he’d mangled with a less than sharp butter knife into the fridge haphazardly before he kicked the fridge door shut with his boot. He wasted not a second of time, he needed to investigate the silence now shrouding the farmhouse. As he walked he fished his phone from his back pocket to see your name lighting up his caller ID. ‘Ace.’ 

“Hol’ on—m’ parentin’.” Rhett mumbled as he swiped the pad of his thumb across his screen and held his phone to his ear. Keep it there with his shoulder as he rounded the corner to see one of his twins, Liam, laying on the ground with his eyes closed. “LUKE!” Rhett bellowed into the phone, for a second it made you laugh because Rhett and parenting in the same sentence still made you smile. “What did you do to your brother huh?” 

“He fell!” Luke ran out from behind the lounge and down the hall. “I didn’t touch him!” Rhett groaned in defeat as he scooped his son off the ground to make sure he was still alive. Yep. There was a heartbeat and breathe inside his lungs. 

“I’m fine, I just need a minute—“ Liam mumbled. “And to not fix fences this afternoon.” 

“You ain’t dead, dying or debilitated.” Rhett chuckled as he watched Liam side on the couch with deflated shoulders. “Go eat your lunch and find your brother before I do.” How the fuck was Rhett Abbott a dad? “We’re heading out at two.” 

Liam groaned as he flung himself off the lounge and headed on into the kitchen. It was then Rhett exhaled a sigh and turned all his attention back to you—still waiting patiently on the other end of the line. “How much do you think I could get for two feral seven year olds?” 

“Probably a little more than a fifteen year old delinquent.” You replied softly as you sat pulled over on the side of the road with your hazards on and your forehead pressed against the steering wheel. “I’m sending her to live with you.” Rhett chuckled as he sat on the lounge and held his phone up to his ear. 

“What she do this time?” It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for you and Rhett to call each other to discuss your children’s antics. Being separated and a co-parenting dad with two twin boys that hardly knew what he was doing, more often than not it was Rhett calling you. But on the odd occasion you called him? It made him feel validated in a sense that it was okay to not have everything under control all the time. “Y/n? What she do this time?” 

“We were arguing about how she got an after school detention—“ You explained only a few details. “And then she hit me with the Bradley’s not her real dad argument when I said she was lucky he wasn’t here to reprimand her.” It knocked the wind right out of Rhett’s lungs. “She’s fifteen! I’m not ready to talk about this yet! She can’t know Rhett—she can’t—she—“ Rhett could tell by the rapid breathing and the panicked tone coming through the phone that you weren’t okay. He looked over to the little digital calendar in the corner of the living room that you all had and saw that Bradley was still on deployment for another two weeks. 

“Ace, listen to me?” Rhett tried his best to console you as he rubbed a hand across his tired face. “You don’t have to tell her, no one will ever force you to tell her anything you don’t want her to know, but she’s a smart kid man—she’s gonna figure it out eventually.” 

“Fuck you Rhett—“ That wasn’t the reaction Rhett was expecting but nevertheless it forced a chuckled from his chest. “You didn’t see the way she dug that knife in, she knew what she said and she meant it too.” 

“Kids are brutal, teenagers are the worst.” Rhett replied. “It’s sticks and stones Ace, be the bigger person and just let her have this one.” You knew Rhett wasn’t invalidating your feelings, he was just giving you level headed advice. 

“Are you kidding me?” 

“Nah—“ Rhett smiled with half his mouth as he watched his boys come back into the living room with their sandwiches. Both sitting in front of the TV to watch something Rhett could only assume was mind numbing. He wasn’t allowed to watch TV as a kid, but he wasn’t about to be like his father. “I’m serious, I think she won this round, but just because she KO’d you doesn’t mean you won’t get back up.” 

“I hate you, you know that right?” You groaned into the phone. “Jake would have told me to take the door handle off her door and leave her in there for a week.” You knew that Jake would have been serious too. “I should have called him for moral support, not you and your rational responses.” 

You needed level headedness though, you needed someone to pull you back from the edge of a full blown parenting breakdown and of all people it was Rhett Abbott who did so. He smiled to himself because he knew you’d be okay, he knew the tears had slowly begun to fade and he knew that when you got home? You’d still love your shit head of a daughter. 

“That’s exactly why Hangman doesn’t have kids.” 

Present Day: 

There’s a barely twenty one year old emerging from his room right about the time Bradley has you sitting on the countertop while he stands between your legs. If anything the Bradshaw kids were exposed to public displays of affection more often than most kids were but that was because they had parents who were oh so in love. 

For Nicky Bradshaws who’s home on a rare visit between trips overseas and dedicating his entire life to the sport he loved so much, the fact he watched his parents suck faces often throughout his childhood never made the sight any less gross. 

Nick stood dead in his tracks as he watched his father stand between his mothers legs with his tongue in her mouth like he was starved of oxygen. He let his presence be known by clearing his throat. 

“I still technically live here, you know.” Nick side eyed the two of you as Rooster stepped away to let you down from where he had you perched. It wasn’t a kiss laced with lust—but it had been a kiss filled with love for the woman who had built her own version of a perfect life. “I think I deserve to be able to use the common areas of the house without needing lasik after losing my vision after having walked in on you two getting in on.” Your youngest pointed between you and Bradley. “Y’all have a bedroom—use it.” 

“It wasn’t like that honey.” You tapped your son on the chest. “Here, have some dinner before your father eats it all.” 

“I heard Harry kicked dirt in some poor kid's eyes today.” Nick chuckled at the way his oldest sister had rung him up in the car. “Can’t say he isn’t hers now—“ Bradley laughed along with his son as you deadpanned the both of them. The look you sent them shut their laughter up real quick. “Oh come on ma! Admit it, she was a handful teen and you know it.” 

“You weren’t perfect either Bud.” Rooster had your back before you even needed to defend Odette. “I still remember the time I caught that girl sneaking out of your room when you were fifteen—“ Immediately, before the sentence was even finished, Bradley knew he’d fucked up. 

“What girl?” Your eyes went wide. “Nick? When did you have a girl in your room when you were fifteen?” Throughout your parenting life together you and Rooster keep certain things from each other. Not out of spite or with malice intentions. It would be to simply keep the other from spiralling or needing to worry about a situation that had already been dealt with. “Bradley? What girl!?” You hissed as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“It’s a long story Ma.” Nick replied with a mouthful of pasta. 

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not busy.” You turned to your husband who looked like a kicked puppy. He kept things from you too. And he kept this one from you for a good fucking reason—Nick had begged him to for his own safety.

Nick knew you’d throw sticks and stones at him if you found out he lost his virginity when he was just fifteen. 

“Spill the beans boys.” You willed the pair of them to sit at the table. Nick shook his head in defiance with a mouthful of pasta. 

“No thanks, I chose life.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Tags: @a-serene-place-to-be @lilyevanswhore @thescarletknight2014 @blindedbythelightt @averyhotchner @emma8895eb @blairfox04 @caitsymichelle13 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @teacupsandtopgun @aemondssiut @akalei349 @notjustsomeblonde @americaarse e @avaleineandafryingpan @phoenix1388 @xoxabs88xox @je-suis-prest-rachel @pono-pura-vida @rosiahills22 @starset21 @anarchyrising @caidi-paris @starkleila @criticalroleobssedperson @enchantingdreamergothprune @flrboyd @emma8895eb @endofdays56 @seresinsaint @topguncortez @mandylove1000 @clancycucumber230

[starlight-bread-blog]

Do you think there's a more complex and nuanced outcome as a result of Katara marrying Zuko rather than it just being Katara becoming a fire lady? Especially since, technically, she's the daughter of a chief and that considers her to be a tribal princess like Yue.

That is a good question. I suppose I don't think there's a situation where Katara marries Zuko and doesn't become fire lady. Since the definition of the word is, and correct me if I'm wrong, the Fire Lord's wife. But if you mean whether she'll live in a palace, I believe that she will.

According to this article she also lived Far From Home (lol) with A\ang, and in their family picture none of them wear clothes for the SWT's cold weather. Which does make sense with how fine she was with leaving to find Aang and how she spent the entire series away from home and the show rarely treated it as an issue to be dealt with. Additionally, now that the war is over she can pay regular visits to her home.

But that doesn't mean that the chief's daughter becoming fire lady isn't complex and nuanced. First thihgs first, I want to go through what being the fire lady & daughter of the chief would mean.

The fire lady doesn't seem to have duties, since we never see Ursa do anything for the Fire Nation. But it at least has to grant you respect and THE connection to the Fire Lord. Katara isn't Ursa, and is passionate & active in nature. The role comes with a certain power that can assist with one's political pursuits greatly.

As for her being a tribal princess, as opposed to the Fire Lady, Yue explicitly that she has duties.

Yue: You don't understand. I have duties to my father, to my tribe.

But Yue was probably the heir to the throne. She had no siblings as far as we know, and she says "my tribe". I don't know whether the north would accept a female chief, given how sexist it was. But some evidence there is to support that she was the heir is this line from her fiance:

"Perks". If she was going to marry him for him to become the chief despite having no other connections to the bloodline, he wouldn't casually call becoming a chief a "perk". Furthermore, when Sokka tries to hit on her, he remarks of their simularities as they're both a prince and a princess. And Sokka is ann heir, he's the future chief.

It's likely that they were arranged for other political reasons and Yue was going to become queen. Whether she was going to be respected/accepted is up in the air.

But we do know of another heirs that might help us get a fuller picture: Eska and Desna. They had a duty to their father as a prince and a princess. It was their wish to help their father whom they believed was a great man. Which isn't typical for an heir. This is why we can look at their case to see what Katara's life as the daughter of the chief would look like. In their case, they helpped the NWT in whatever they thought was right. And it's likely that so would Katara.

What does that leave us with? A role that grants her political power in the Fire Nation with no duties, and a person with a duty to the Southern Water Tribe.

The Positive

To me this paints a clear picture: Katara would use said political power to push the Fire Nation to rehabilitate the Southern Water Tribe from their atrocities.

I'm not the first person to show these before vs. After pics, but it's very important to remember the sheer extent of the Fire Nation's harm to Katata's home.

Before:

After:

And until the show ended, Katara was still the last waterbender of the south. Don't get me wrong, it IS Zuko's job to rehabilitate the SWT. But she'd want this.

Katara always want to help those around her by any means necessery. If it's getting captured in a Fire Nation prison or blowing up a factory, she will find the power to help others. So the power to fix the wrongs inflicted on her own culture and home being given to her, just for loving who she wants to love, is incredibly rewarding and narrativly satisfying.

The Negatives

1. All of what I've just described is good in theory, but in practice she's likely to face immense backlash. The people of the Fire Nation have been indoctrinated into believing the war was good and were fed Fire Nation propaganda since their school days (The Headband) and continued well into adulthood (Ember Island Players).

Suddenly the new fire lord comes along and decides that the war they've been fighting fir a 100 years is bad actually. And NOW he's dating a waterbender and the daughter of the chief, no less. + Suddenly the girl is starting to have demands. She'll be one of the most cobtroversial figures of that era, and that's no easy task.

2. It opens the door for one bad situation that no one could be blamed for. What if Zuko's heir would be a waterbender? That cannot be. Will the role of the heir go to whoever's a firebender/none bender regardless of order? What would it make their kids feel? Will Zuko be okay with how it'd make his kids feel? It raises so many questions, so many complexities and there seem to be no winners.

But looking at these negatives from a perspective of literary merit, as A:TLA is a fictional work, are these really negatives? I'd say no. There is no real suffering at stake here, only captivating conflicts to be explored. In real life, these nasty situations have to be dealt with. They're raw, they're complicated, and in literature, that's good. Conflicts are the oxygen of a story. Especially ones with no easy answers.

In conclusion, Katara marrying Zuko would make her the fire lady. This would lead to complex and nuanced situations, both good and bad, making for excellent conflicts/character progressions.

I don't know if this is the answer you wanted, but these are my thoughts. Thank you for the ask and have a nice day! 💕

[yelenasdiary]

hey, heard you were looking for angst requests? could you do one thats natasha x reader during end game, where natasha still sacrifices herself for the soul stone, but steve is able to bring her back when he returns the stones, and she comes back all excited to see everyone came back and to see reader, just to find out that reader also gave her life by doing the final snap to defeat thanos.

Understanding

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x GN! Reader

Summary: Natasha returns to some news she wasn’t ready for.  

Angst | Light Language Warning | Character Death | Grief | 0.7K | 

AC: I like this idea, it’s different! I hope you enjoy this, sorry it’s kind of short x 

"Why are you all looking at me like that?" Natasha frowned as her eyes scanned the room, but she knew when her eyes reached Clint that something was wrong. Steve cleared his throat as he stepped forward only to be stopped gently by Clint's hand on his shoulder. "I've got this" he whispered before looking at his best friend once more. 

Nobody had a chance to process the events that had taken place, Thanos was dead, a victory for the world but at the price of one of the Avenger's own. The longer the silence filled the room, the more Natasha's mind filled with what she knew was about to come out of Clint's mouth. 

"Nat"

"Don't!" Natasha snapped, trying to fight off the building tears in her eyes. She looked to Steve, "go back! Bring them back!" she demanded but it was too late, they knew for sure it couldn't be done. 

"Nat, it's not that simple" Clint spoke, his words only angering Natasha. 

"What the hell happened?!" Nat asked, biting the inside of her cheek as her mind raced a million miles per second trying to make sense of the situation. Everybody looked at one another, again, the room filled with silence. "Can somebody please just answer the damn question?!" Nat's grief began to show in anger. 

"They did it, Nat. They defeated Thanos with the gauntlet" Clint replied. Natasha's tears broke, she hated to hear it, but she needed too. "W=why did none of you stop them?!" she asked. If anybody had to die, she only wished with was somebody on Thanos's army, not you. 

"They thought you were dead, they weren't thinking straight when you didn't return" Steve inserted himself. 

"I'm here now" 

"We didn't know that we were even able to bring you back….Nat, I tried, I went back for them" Steve paused as Tony gave him a pat on the shoulder as he walked up to Natasha. 

"They did it for you" he looked at her, "every part of their being in that moment was in revenge for you. They're one of the best, we and world will never forget that and what they did. If we could bring them back, best believe me I would do it" 

Natasha couldn't take it, the idea of you being gone and her not being able to see you, hold you, hear your silly jokes that she thought were ridiculous half the time, but they made her laugh anyways. She brushed past Tony, Steve and Clint, leaving the room with her heart behind and her mind full of anger with nobody to take revenge on. 

----

As time moved forward, Natasha could help but feel stuck, stuck in a time that no longer existed. Nothing but dreams and wishes helped Natasha get through the long hours of the day and even longer hours of the night. Just hoping you'd walk through the door or steal one of her sweaters simply because you said they were comfier than your own. 

Natasha had lived a life a lot different to most and somehow, she was always able to make sense of it and how it worked. She's dealt with death her entire life, but your death hurt her just as much as not knowing who her biological mother was. 

The others did their best to help her through this, but they all knew it was better for Natasha to do it herself, they just reminded her they she wasn't alone, and they were always here for her. 

A memorial of you was created by the city of New York, many people would come and lay flowers, cards, stuffed toys and even some of your favorite snacks as a thank you for everything you had done to save the world. It brought a sense of comfort to Natasha knowing that people around the globe were thankful for your sacrifice but still, she just wanted you. 

Yelena dropped everything after the snap and decided to stay at the compound with Natasha, an extra set of eyes to ensure the red headed assassin wasn't going to do anything stupid or fall even deeper into her grief. The two spoke a lot about you, just like everybody else did but Natasha didn't feel like she was bothering Yelena with her memories of you, sometimes she felt the team might get bored of the same stories or it might be too much for them to think about but with Yelena, she never felt any of that. 

Over time, Natasha came to terms with your sacrifice and now lived her life making sure you were never forgotten or ever forgetting the live she had with you and always dreaming of a life that could've been.

Taglist: @red1culous | @sayah13 | @charl-lally | @when-wolves-howl | @bentleywolf29 | @fxckmiup | @natasha-belova | @blackwidow-3 | @lissaaaa145 | @high--power | @parkerdaramitzzzz | @mmmmokdok | @wackymcstupid | @kiwiana145 | @observeowl | @nattyolw | @ripofflizzie | @goofy-goonie | @makegoodchoices | @apollo2907 | @wandaroman0ff | @dumb-fawkin-bitch | @lovelyy-moonlight | @santana1437 | @ahintofchaos | @fluffyblanketgecko | @puta1 | @inluvwithfictionalwomen | @tintedrose12 | @jaymieflorissssssss | @tita001 | @youralphawolf72 | @donnietarantino | @randomnessbecausewhynot | @natashamaximoff69 | @hehehehannahthings | @pandaemonium111 | @imnotslouching | @secrettoallofyou | @romantic-slaps-on-the-asss | @marvel-fan-2021 | @mmmmokdok | @riveramorylunar | @ripofflizzie | @marvel-madnessx | @scarsw1fe | @toldthatdevil | @itsmv3 | @natashaswife4125 | @katiemay-025 | @aphrcdtes | @romanoffs-widow | @natsxwife | @maria-403 | @boredandneedfanfics | @wandamaximoffspuppup | @xox-little-troublemaker-xox | @shibugs | 

[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 arguable 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!

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi Clan! I haven't been around in a while the autism took me for a few months sorry. Would you do some headcanons for Miles and/or Gwen meeting a Mutant!Spider-Person reader? Like an X-Men type mutant. They never got bit but were instead born with the spider powers (including the webs) and 4 arms. Because they're a mutant they aren't really trusted as a hero by the people of their city (or the cops) but they still try their best because "If I gave up because a few people didn't like me, I wouldn't be very good at my job"

-Forgetful Anon

Gwen Stacy

While visiting Spider Society HQ for the first time, she noticed you sitting at a nearby table, having an arm-wrestling match against Ben Riley.

He insisted you used all four of your arms to "challenge" him....and yet he sulks when he ultimately loses, and you just laugh in victory before patting him on the back.

Once he leaves, you spot this new Spiderwoman and wave her over to your table, insisting on having a match.

It's just your way of breaking the ice for new Spiderpeople. You loved getting to know them and testing their strength. Winning or losing doesn't matter to you.

"Don't worry, I'll go easy on ya." You tease, only to be surprised as Gwen wins with little effort, her smug grin present.

"You went a little "too" easy on me, I think."

"Haha...jeez, I guess so."

And so you both talk for a little while about different things: what she thought of Spider Society, how long she's been Spiderwoman, etc.

When she turns the questions on you, however, you're....a bit hesitant to share.

Unlike most of the Spiderpeople here, you didn't get your powers in the "traditional" sense. No spider has ever bitten you.

Seeing Gwen's curiosity, though, you eventually tell her you're actually a mutant, a human born with the X-gene that made you into a spider hybrid.

You mentioned a league of mutant superheroes in your dimension.....but you ride solo, as most Spiderpeople do, not wanting to be tied down to any specific group (ironic as you're part of Spider Society, but that's besides the point).

She imagines the people there feel pretty safe, though you shake your head. "Nah, some see us as the bigger threat just because we look like this and have all these crazy powers. I've fought aliens and wizards, but...there's some battles that you just can't punch or shoot webs at, y'know?"

Her expression changes to a slightly solemn one, nodding her head in sympathy. "You're fighting for basic respect."

"We just want fair treatment...and it's like we're asking them for the world. All I wanna do is protect my city, but it's hard when half the population hates us and thinks we brought the trouble to them."

"I can't imagine.." She frowns. "If I might ask..what keeps you going? Why bother if nobody even thanks you or sees you as a hero? What's the point?"

"......."

"...sorry, was that too deep-?"

"No, no..you're good, kid." You chuckle, feeling more relaxed. "All my life I've dealt with that stuff, and it still sometimes hurts, but if I gave up just because some people didn't like me, well...I'd be terrible at my job as a Spiderperson."

Gwen's impressed by your words, not expecting to have such a deep conversation about your "origin story" at the first meeting.

But she's glad she could talk to you, needing this distraction from the incident with her dad while she was questioning her own self-worth as Spiderwoman.

You reassure her she can come to you for advice anytime.

Miles Morales (E-1610)

You first met Miles after getting thrown into his dimension thanks to the collider explosion, taking comfort in knowing you're not the most "unusual" spiderperson around.

There's a pig and an anime girl with a psychic link to her spider, for crying out loud.

Anyways, you had faith that he could help you get back to your dimension, never doubting him unlike the other spiderpeople who firmly believed he wasn't ready for this task.

You followed him after he left May's basement to talk one-on-one, sympathizing with his struggles.

"Trust me, kid..I've been in your shoes once. I never felt like a Spiderman in my life..even now."

He stares at you in disbelief. "Really? You? But...you got all your powers at birth! I mean yeah, you weren't bitten, but....but you're already better at this than I am! I bet people really admire you-"

"I've had my fair share of doubters, Miles. All of us have, but I got it...particularly bad in my world. And not just because I'm a "masked vigilante putting myself about the law"."

He's still a bit lost, so you tell him about the unfair treatment of mutantkind in your dimension, speaking of how some people hated you so much...they sought to "cure" your X-genes.

It stings to know that they will shun you instead of seeing you as a hero, though you didn't wanna ramble on for too long and depress Miles further, seeing his frown growing.

"You say all of this, and yet...you think I can help you get back there. Why would you ever wanna go back to a world that hates you just for being yourself? For just trying to do the right thing even if everyone's telling you no?"

"Well..besides dying if I stay in this dimension--" You begin, painfully glitching for a moment as if to prove that point. "--ouch...look, I just can't abandon the people who need me. The ones who do see me as a hero. It's my duty, and...if I gave up trying to be Spiderman just because I get a few stares or snide comments...well then I'm not really Spiderman, am I?"

Miles doesn't know what to say...but he does feel incredibly inspired by your words.

He only wishes the others trusted him like you did.

Patting his shoulder, you remove your mask and smile at him. "Don't their words bring you down, kid. You got potential...they'll realize it soon enough."

[punk4ndisorderly]

dreamboat

jack hughes x fictional character

intro | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | epilogue

part 4 -suddenly

Ava couldn't be there. She felt ridiculous, embarrassed, ashamed even, being the center of attention in this situation. Never in her life would she have thought she'd have someone fighting for her honor. Well, not really fighting, it was one punch, and Ethan was out.

Trevor and Cole ran from their room when they heard the loud thud in the living room, the stunned looks on their faces matching everyone else's.

Jack was breathing heavily through his nose, his chest puffed. No one had ever seen him that mad outside of the rink. Hell, even in the rink, he had never looked that furious.

Dylan and Mark begrudgingly helped Ethan up, taking him to the kitchen to get some ice. The rest of the boys looked on, but no one said a word.

"Next time you should think if going out with the most beautiful girl in the world is more embarrassing than going out with a black eye before you open your fucking mouth." Jack spat, right as Quinn and Luke hastily came down the stairs.

"Jack, stop talking, please." Ava begged, unshed tears in her eyes. "Don't drag this on. I feel humiliated enough as it is." she nearly whispered.

"What the hell is going on?" the eldest Hughes raised his voice, looking between the two of them before scanning the room. "Why are you dipshits hanging around?" he continued. "If you're not involved in whatever this is, I suggest you move this party to your rooms."

The young men Luke had invited to stay over left one by one, the air thick with tension over the events of the last couple of minutes. Trevor and Cole refused to follow, clearly wanting an explanation as to why their friend looked like he was milliseconds away from blowing a fuse.

Quinn turned to his brother, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Jack."

"I've dealt with it."

"I don't care." the Canucks' captain stated dryly. "Speak."

"Quinny, please." Ava intervened. "It was stupid."

His eyes softened when he turned to face the girl he took care of like a little sister.

"Yeah, okay. You're not talking, fine." he gave in. "But you're apologizing to Eddy." Quinn pointed at his sibling. "This is not how grown men deal with shit."

"I don't care." Jack shrugged. "I'm not apologizing. He should be the one apologizing."

"You can't just say shit like that and not explain yourself. That's my teammate. He's a friend. If he did something I need to know." Luke spoke up, towering over him.

"Yeah, man, I need to know if I'm kicking this kid's ass or not." Trevor prompted, raising his eyebrows.

"Forget it." he sighed, turning his back to them. "I don't want you here when I wake up." he added menacingly as he walked past the kitchen and out the sliding doors into the backyard.

"Oh you did not just leave me here to deal with this..." Ava mumbled under her breath, stalking behind him as quick as she could.

Finding him sat on the dock, his feet dipped in the water, the brunette didn't bother with small talk.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"Sorry, I just couldn't not say something if they kept on pushing." he spoke softly, still facing the large body of water.

"We'll discuss that later, I meant what the hell were you thinking when you socked Ethan? Are you insane?"

"Coop, what he said..." Jack began, turning to her.

"I've heard it thousands of times before. It's hurtful, yes, but I can get my point across with words, I always have. You can't go out punching every guy who says nasty things about me."

"As a matter of fact, I can." he stated. "Give me names."

Ava let out a chuckle, releasing some of the tension accumulated inside her. His eyes scanned her face cautiously, the moonlight illuminating it in a totally different way than the sunlight did, and he wanted to learn all about the part of her that could only be seen in it.

"I'm a big girl. Literally and figuratively. This is not your weight to take on..."

"Yes it is, Ava."

She groaned loudly, looking up at the sky.

"I don't want you to get into any trouble for me... And the thing is... I don't get it, Jack. Why are you like this? Why do you do this? Why was there steam coming out of your ears?"

"God, Coop, you cannot be serious." the Devils' player scoffed, getting up to leave.

"Jack!" the brunette huffed, raising to her full height. "What did I say?"

"Isn't it obvious by now?" he retorted.

"Clearly not! There is no reason why -"

"I love you, Ava!" Jack blurted out, holding his arms out. "That's why. I can't help it if I get protective and want to punch the shit out of men who treat you like shit! I can't help getting jealous either! It's something I have to deal with, I know. it would be a lot easier if I didn't care this much, but I do."

His longtime friend, the one he compared everyone else to, stood there, shocked. He could tell she was replaying his words in her head. Deciding if she was going to believe him or not.

"I... We're... Jack, we're never even playing in the same league. You can't just..."

"Stop bullshitting me. I know guys like Ethan legitimize this belief you have deep inside that you're inferior to any other woman because you have a different body type but trust me when I say there is no one else who has ever made me feel like you do. No one I'd rather tell my deepest, darkest fears and secrets to. No one makes me laugh like you do. No one gets me as flustered as you do and they are certainly not in any of my most unholy thoughts, looking exactly like you do. You drive me insane, Cooper. Just the way you are."

-

A/N: last part!! now on to the social media epilogue 🫢 hope you enjoyed this one!!!