#I MISS LUZ ALREADY

[min-play]

TITAN LUZ IS JUST SO

bonus:

[antennabot]

I’m gonna miss these guys <3

[damcabin13]

I miss them so much😭

[crimeronan]

"when does amity technically join the AU polycule" greatest thread in the history of our time, locked after 4838378 pages of DTR debate,

[starrywangxian]

an open letter to all media companies

dear media companies,

i know you won't stop cancelling good tv shows and media with, let's not beat around the brush, predominately lgbt+ characters (lesbian characters to be more specific), so i won't ask you to. however, what i do ask of you is that you, at least, give a chance for the fans to say goodbye to their characters and for the story to be at least somewhat done.

i'm writing this after sobbing over the last episode of the owl house and boy, that was emotional. but there was one thought that mainly went through my head after watching the last episode (apart from "i need more") which was: at least they got to say goodbye (literally). because so many tv shows have been cancelled without a chance to finish their stories, without a chance to say goodbye. for example, i was very angry, annoyed, and unsatisfied when dead end: paranormal park was cancelled by netflix but, unlike the owl house, it was cancelled on a cliffhanger without any means to finish the story or say goodbye to the characters, and my anger was overpowered by the sadness i felt. the owl house, though, got a chance. and i guess what i'm saying is that you media companies will never listen to queer people when we tell you how important representation is especially in children's media, so i'll just save my breath but please, give it one more episode or at least a clip or something. because you may just see a price tag or angry emails from homophobic parents but we see ourselves in those characters, so they will always be more than just kids' tv show characters, and it hurts to just leave them without having any closure.

but i'll be accommodating, if you don't want to give the series one last episode, then at least tell the producers of the show before you cancel it so they can prepare, so they can give a massive fuck you to you one last time in the form of excessive PDA or pride flags galore for one last hurrah.

you can cancel the tv shows that actually matter and ignore the communities you hurt but we'll never back down. animators, storytellers, producers, directors etc. will still push for change, equality, representation, and awareness no matter when you decide to cancel our stories.

yours faithfully,

⣞⢽⢪⢣⢣⢣⢫⡺⡵⣝⡮⣗⢷⢽⢽⢽⣮⡷⡽⣜⣜⢮⢺⣜⢷⢽⢝⡽⣝ ⠸⡸⠜⠕⠕⠁⢁⢇⢏⢽⢺⣪⡳⡝⣎⣏⢯⢞⡿⣟⣷⣳⢯⡷⣽⢽⢯⣳⣫⠇ ⠀⠀⢀⢀⢄⢬⢪⡪⡎⣆⡈⠚⠜⠕⠇⠗⠝⢕⢯⢫⣞⣯⣿⣻⡽⣏⢗⣗⠏⠀ ⠀⠪⡪⡪⣪⢪⢺⢸⢢⢓⢆⢤⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢊⢞⡾⣿⡯⣏⢮⠷⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠊⠆⡃⠕⢕⢇⢇⢇⢇⢇⢏⢎⢎⢆⢄⠀⢑⣽⣿⢝⠲⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠂⠠⠀⡇⢇⠕⢈⣀⠀⠁⠡⠣⡣⡫⣂⣿⠯⢪⠰⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡦⡙⡂⢀⢤⢣⠣⡈⣾⡃⠠⠄⠀⡄⢱⣌⣶⢏⢊⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢝⡲⣜⡮⡏⢎⢌⢂⠙⠢⠐⢀⢘⢵⣽⣿⡿⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⣺⡺⡕⡕⡱⡑⡆⡕⡅⡕⡜⡼⢽⡻⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣳⣫⣾⣵⣗⡵⡱⡡⢣⢑⢕⢜⢕⡝⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⡽⡑⢌⠪⡢⡣⣣⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡟⡾⣿⢿⢿⢵⣽⣾⣼⣘⢸⢸⣞⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠇⠡⠩⡫⢿⣝⡻⡮⣒⢽⠋⠀⠀⠀

[larsofthe-stars]

Teenage Collector,,,,

I don't even know if they age

Also pls zoom in for better quality ;-;

[stomperofhearts]

do i wish we had more of titan luz?

yes absolutely.

do i wish she stayed that way?

yes that would’ve been so cool.

am i happy that she at least exists now?

yesyesyesyesyes

[robintheleader]

I will send the uncovered version after Jan 21😱

Luz1!!1!

[notsweettblr]

Another round of “Never Have I Ever”

This time, featuring special guests: The Hexsquad

Because this show ended a couple days ago and I am still not alright

Tim: Alright, so, your show just ended, right?

Luz: Yeah. It was… quite a ride.

Adrien: Well, thank you for joining us for our game of “Never Have I Ever.”

Luz: Of course! I love this game.

Tim: Yeah, but I feel the need to warn you that our friends and family have written some of these, so it may be a bit-

Adrien: Unhinged…

Gus: Bring it.

Tim: *reading* “Never Have I Ever stabbed an old man.”

Willow: *writes on her sign*

Willow: *holds up “I’ve thought about it”*

Gus: *sighs, sadly holds up “Never Have I Ever”*

Gus: I would’ve if I’d been given the chance.

Hunter: *holds up “Never Have I Ever”*

Hunter: …well, wait, actually-

Hunter: *lowers sign*

Hunter: I’m gonna have to think about this one.

Amity: *holds up “Never Have I Ever”*

Amity: I seriously doubt anyone here would actually raise the “I Have” side. Thinking about it and actually doing it are two totally separate th-

Tim: *giggles*

Tim: *holds up “I Have”*

Varian: *slams fist on desk*

Varian: I knew it.

Adrien: I’ve been waiting for this reveal.

Adrien: *writes on sign*

Adrien: *holds up “Never stabbed, but beat up”*

Amity: …

Willow: You guys did what- ?

Gus: L U C K Y

Hunter: What about you, Luz?

Luz: …

Luz: *slowly holds up “I Have”*

Amity: w h a t

Amity: When?!

Luz: Either it was a dream or it really happened, and I don’t honestly care either way.

Gus: oh my titan you guys are so LUCKY

Adrien: I don’t know what’s more concerning, the fact that we’ve thought about stabbing people, have stabbed people, or the fact that you’re so eager to stab someone.

Varian: Do not be confined by the rules of society.

Varian: Stab an old man.

Bonus:

Tim: Vare, you never raised your sign one way or the other.

Varian: …um-

Varian: Well, that gets complicated.

Willow: Complicated?

Varian: I mean, I wasn’t the one holding the sword, but maybe giving it to Angry was a bad idea-

Tim: That child is literally named Angry, why did you think that was a good idea?

Varian: “Why did you think that was a good idea” I’m sorry, aren’t you the one who actively antagonized the guy who hated your guts?

Tim: …jokes on you, I don’t know who you’re talking about specifically.

[mebssann]

Siblings going on a trip

[yume-fanfare]

pouring one out for the utaite enstars covers......................

[czhybrid]

I FINALLY JUST WATCHES THE OWL HOUSE FINALLY GUYS HOLY FRICK

[mx-bluesky]

hi the owl house

nice to meet you

I’m sobbing!

[thesecretwriter]

LOVED the fanfic about Miguel. I need one with him being feral at the thought of wife!reader leaving him because he is being neglectful and is almost never home with her. Please, please, pleaseeee. I would love to read this.

P.S add smut if you want to😗

home is where you are (part 1) - miguel o’hara

pairing: miguel o’hara x wife!female reader

warnings: angst – reader tells miguel she needs a break from his absence, fluff – I think is it?? , smut – minors dni. smutty undertones, no smut described but miguel is being suggestive.

summary: in which y/n, wife of Miguel O’hara finds herself spending more time in an empty apartment that in the company of the man she chose to spend the rest of her life with.

word count: 1.4k

a/n: thank you for the request anon, I enjoyed writing it. I didn’t write smut bc the fic was already long and I am a bit tired, butttt maybe a part 2??

minors/ageless blogs dni.

masterlists  

part 1, part 2, part 3

"I’m home, mi luz,"

The nickname he has reserved for you tugs at your heart. He explained to you that you were the light in the darkness that consumed his heart within the chaos of being Spiderman.

You look in the direction of Miguel's voice and sigh "well, that's a first," you mutter to yourself before getting off the couch walking towards Miguel.

You had spent the whole day rehearsing what you were going to say to Miguel.

You lean against the counter as Miguel leaves the packet with a logo from a Chinese take away not far from your shared apartment.

Miguel approaches you, his eyes dark and intense. His expression is unreadable, but you can feel a sense of discomfort growing within you.

"Did you miss me mi corazón?" he asks in a low voice, his eyes scanning your body as he comes closer to you.

"Well, for me to answer that question you would have to be around enough for me to miss you. So, no I did not miss you," you say, upset that he had the audacity to question if you miss him when he is not even at home most of the time.

You stay where you are leaning against the counter with your arms folded. Miguel takes this as an opportunity to cage you between his arms as he towers over you.

His eyes are fixed on you. He leans forward till he is a few centimetres away from you.

"You know that's not true mi luz. You miss me. And I miss you too, baby. I've been thinking a lot about you all day." he says, his tone suggestive and a glint of desire in his eyes.

"If you were thinking of me so much, then maybe you would be home more often. I've been wanting to talk to you about something..." you trail off nervous and avoiding eye contact with him. Miguel picks up the change of your attitude and tilts his head to the side in curiosity.

Any other day you would think that it was adorable of him to do such a thing, but now it ticked you off that he was so oblivious.

Miguel notices your nervousness and his expression turns serious. "What is it? What do you want to talk about, y/n?" he asks, his voice firm. The use of your first name is your first warning of Miguel being serious.

He is still leaning in close to you, however, you can now tell that he is tense from your nervousness.

"I want to take some time off... from us," you blurt out, wanting to get this conversation over with. Miguel takes in your words.

You want to take a break from him? the one who has the weight of the world on his shoulders. His brows furrow in confusion, but also anger.

Miguel moves closer to you, his body now pressed against yours. He leans in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

"Why would you want to do that, mi vida? Don't you know how much I love you?" he whispers, his lips dangerously close to your skin.

His taunting is what gets to you. Here you are trying to tell him what you needed, and he is retaliating by trying to seduce you.

"I don't feel your love anymore Miguel. You're barely home. I wake up, you're not here. I go to sleep, you're not here. Sometimes you even leave in the middle of night when I'm asleep. I understand that the spider society is important to you, but once upon a time so was this relationship. I cannot keep living like this by having moments with you." you say, getting angrier as you speak.

Miguel notices the unshed tears in your eyes.

Miguel's expression softens for a moment as he looks into your eyes, seeing the pain and tears hidden behind them.

He knows he's been distant lately, but that's all because he's been putting in more time fighting crime around the city as Spiderman and travelling to other dimensions to help other Spider-Man/women.

"I'm sorry, mi luz. I promise to make it up to you. I'll take some time off, for just the two of us." he says, his voice sincere as he tries to reason with you.

"And then what? while we're spending time together, you'll get called into HQ and will leave me alone. It’s happened before Miguel. I already packed enough clothes for me to spend a week with at a friend’s house," You put your hands on his chest to push him away and go to get your phone to call your friend to pick you up.

Miguel feels his chest tighten at the thought of having you away from him. You're slipping through his fingers, and he must do something about it before he loses you completely.

Miguel takes a step forward, blocking your path to the phone. His eyes flash with anger.

"You're not going anywhere, y/n. You're delusional if you think I'm just going to sit back and let you leave me. We're married, you made a vow to me. Do you know how hard I've been working to protect this city and the people in it? Do you have any idea how much pressure I'm under?" he says, his voice rising in frustration.

Before you can respond, he grabs your wrist and pulls you towards him. He presses himself against you, his hands roaming over your body as he begins to kiss you. You try to resist and push him away, but he's too strong. He continues to kiss you until you finally give in, allowing him to lead you to the bedroom.

You pour all your emotion into the kiss, letting him feel the heartbreak and anguish you have every time he forgets about you.

You're too consumed in the kiss to notice that Miguel is already beginning to take off his clothes. He breaks the kiss to take of your shirt and you see that as an opportunity to interrupt him.

"Miguel stop, not everything can be fixed with-" his lips stop you from speaking as he goes back to kissing you. All you're left in is your bra and panties, which Miguel still feels is too much of clothing.

You feel his lips trailing kisses down your neck as his palms knead at your breasts. His talons poking you ever so lightly, but it’s nothing you haven't felt before.

Your moans only urge Miguel on. He thinks back to the moment he saw the unshed tears in your eyes, the moment you almost left him.

Soon, he comes to the revelation that the only way to keep you here, with him - is to breed you.

It's something you and him have previously discussed. However, with him being away so much, it slipped his mind how he wanted nothing more than to watch you bare his child.

Miguel continues to kiss you passionately, his touch becoming rougher as he begins to undress you completely. He pins you down on the bed, his muscles exposed in the dimly lit room. You can see the taut muscles in his arms as he looms over you.

"Don't fight it, mi luz. I'm giving you what you've always wanted from me," he says, his voice low and husky.

Miguel continues to hold you down and have his way with you. You can't bring yourself to fight resist him anymore, your lips move with his and you feel the spark that is always present within you when Miguel kisses you.

For a moment, you see a glimpse of the caring and loving man you married. He is still there, underneath all the coldness that has consumed him.

[spctrsgf]

mi luz

based off of this comment i wrote on tiktok: “he looks like he could use a hug and a shoulder to cry on.”

word count: 2.2k

warnings: nonspidey!reader, language, hurt to comfort fic (miguel needs a break. like a sabbatical or something)

a/n: ngl, i'm not too happy with how this turned out, probably because i wrote it all on a plane and it's not beta read, but i need more soft miguel fics in my life!!!

He’s tired.

He’s tired and he’s missing you. The boring, monotonous walls of his office harshly remind him of his place, the jubilant orange glow of his monitors tell him of just how much more work he’s got left before he can finally retire to your world.

Lyla, lounging atop one of his screens, watches him and his glossed over eyes, knowing exactly what the lazy flick of his fingers meant. She sighs, glitching over to bring one of his screens forward. “Miguel!” She yells, scaring the poor man out of his thoughts and momentarily extending his claws. “Lyla, what the fu- what the hell?” He growls, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“No kids are here, you don’t have to keep it PG.”

“Whatever.”

“Look, you got work to do, and if you don’t finish it soon, it'll be too late to get in some quality time with this lovely human,” she shoves the digitized photo of you up and into his face. “Before your next mission.”

He sighs, knowing she was right.

“Daydreaming about it isn’t gonna get you there any quicker,” she flickers to be right in front of his face, slapping a hand onto his nose as if she could actually touch him. “GET YOUR SHIT DONE.”

“Fine, fine! Get out of my face.” He grumbles the second sentence, swatting her away and strolling back up to his screens. His eyes catch on your photo, and he reaches to enlarge it in front of him, but—

“No,” Lyla dissipates the photo before he can even get to it, face twisted in disappointment. “No. Not until you finish working.”

“Hey! Who’s the boss here?” 

“Me. Now work.” Lyla glitches out of view with a triumphant huff.

He huffs dramatically, pouting as he pulls himself together. He lets his emotions drop from his face and slides into his stoic mask, resuming the work on his screen. It’s hypnotizing as soon as he gets into it; Lyla must’ve done something to keep him focused, he supposes. She always does have a trick up her sleeve.

In what feels like no time at all, he’s done with his work. With a final, defiant tap to close down his screens, he spins on his heel, ready to leave and go home. Ready to hop in through your window— as much as you hate when he does that— and rest his head atop yours, caging you into where you’re surely stirring something on the stove.

But as he turns, he’s face to face with none other than Hobart Brown. A look to the left reveals his partners in crime; and Miguel knows he’s in for a ride. At least a ten minute detour, as it always is with the four of them. 

“What?” His hands come to rest on his hips naturally, trying to become bigger to them as if it would make the next words out of their mouth more blunt and less angering. “We have a slight problem—” Gwen starts, before Pav butts in.

“It's not slight. It’s a pretty big deal!”

“Mate,” Hobie huffs. “That’s not helpful.”

“I’m trying my best!��

"Yeah, and that's going great-"

“Okay, stop it, all of you,” Miguel interrupts before they can go down the rabbit hole, trying to keep his already strung thin patience steady. “What’s going on?”

“There’s another fight going on.” Hobie gives the answer blunt, to Miguel’s satisfaction.

“Cafeteria?”

“Main hall. Sector D.”

The huff that erupts from his lips draws a colorful picture of his current emotions as he hops off of his elevated platform. “I’ll fix it.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Miles brings himself to stand in front of the man. “We’re not gonna hurt anyone, right?”

“I can’t make any promises.” He brushes past the kid, dismissing him with a shake of the head. 

“Miguel. Don’t take your anger out on them–” Gwen tries, but all it gets is his recoil and daunting stalk towards her.

“I will do whatever the–” the swear word is on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it down. “I will do whatever is needed, but violence is not my first course of action.”

“Please be nice to everyone,” Pav says, peeking over Gwen’s shoulder. “It’s been a long week for all of us too.”

Miguel sighs and brushes past them, saying nothing. He brushes off their words in silent agreement. He didn’t really want to hurt anyone either. 

By the time he reaches where he'd been informed the fight was, there was a mosh pit encircling the brawl, a mass of blue and red and spidermen. He approaches from behind, the tide parting for him as each person registers his presence.

When he meets the pearl in the oyster, the hotheaded spiderman hasn’t noticed him quite yet. He’s got the other spidey— one of the many spiderwomen— beneath him, gnarly fist raised to land another punch. Miguel sighs, grabs the back of the man’s elbow, and dragssss him off.

“Everyone get away now.” His tone squeezes the air out of the room and leaves no room for discussion, not that anyone would dare to object. The spidermen flee the scene before he can even finish his sentence, and by the time he’s turned back to the perpetrators of it all, they’re gone too.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, murmuring a low cálmate under his breath as he moves to regain his bearings. “Lyla,” he waves the said woman near.  “Find those spidermen and remind me to get to them when I come back.” She sputters to focus in front of him, dipping her head in an obliged nod before sputtering off again to wherever she found herself needed. 

Miguel shakes and unclenches the fist he’s made with his free hand and stalks back to his office, rubbing the palm of his hand where his claws had taken purchase amidst anger. 

Sometimes, he regrets putting himself in charge of all of this… shit.

But… he’s the only one who can do it. No one had the vigor, the dedication, the understanding of why and what had to be done to keep the multiverses in line and make sure what happened to him never happened again. 

It’s tiring. It takes his nights and his days and chips at his brain until he’s sure there’s nothing left in the expanse of his head. For someone who appears naturally angry, he’s quite good at keeping all the real anger in.

The downside of this: he bottles it all up. But the bottle isn’t big enough, doesn’t last forever, cracks at the seams, and then shatters in a explosion of tears. It enjoys crumpling him into the floor, loves the way his hands shiver in the cold breeze, shakes him to the core and, for all his confidence, makes him doubt.

Lyla’s only seen him like this once, when he couldn’t get away and instead had to sequester himself into his office, not quite getting to hardwiring her nosy personnel to do something else. 

No, he doesn’t rely on her, as he normally would with other problems. He doesn’t trust her, he doesn’t even trust himself with post breakdown Miguel, no. 

He goes to you.

You. The lovely, kind person he’s had the great privilege of calling his. His love, his support, his everything, or better yet; mi luz. My light. The light at the end of the tunnel, at the end of the world, when he feels like the walls are caving in and there’s really nowhere else to go and nothing more to lose.

You calm him, like you always do. Effortlessly caring, eternally so. Never afraid to give, to let him take and take until he’s stuffed whole. You know little things about him, take the time to learn them. Like where to get his favorite empanadas— much better than the ones in the spidey cafeteria— and that he loves when you press your fingers into his shoulder blades. He loves your massages.

He loves you.

Tapping insistently at the shitty gadget on his wrist, he mindlessly pulls up the coordinates for your dimension. Second nature. He’s walked himself into some obscure corner of the building, but he isn’t processing such mundane things at the moment. He can feel himself slipping, the mask fracturing. He can’t be left alone right now.

You.

The portal is up now, flashing and glitching in an assortment of colors, beckoning him in with its delectable light, like a halo. Miguel wastes no time giving in, diving into the portal and tucking himself tight like a torpedo.

Multiverses zoom by as he glides through hexagons and hexagons, thousands of people in each. Worlds that he keeps steady, safe, perfect. Normally, he’d stop to smell the flowers, observe and appreciate the sereneness of every special home in front of him. Pride himself in the fact that there was a special home for someone to come home to. 

But not this time. No, this time he keeps his eyes screwed shut, he wouldn’t, couldn’t get distracted by the novelty. The bottle is cracking now, cracking into long and sharp spikes aching to slice across his chest. He’s so close, all he could get himself to do was focus on his breaths. In and out, in and out, in and out—

The abrupt warning of your multiverse approaching pinches his wrist, reminding him that this whole mess was very much real. He stumbles into your living room with a not so quiet thud, startling you. You drop the spoon you were stirring something with— smells like some sort of sauce, yum— and whip your head towards him.

He’s got his arms wrapped around you before you can even process that it's him, burying himself in your neck and inhaling the calm scent of you, a mix of your perfume and your detergent, so very you. 

“Miguel.” You sigh into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist as the initial shock of his intrusion wears off. 

He slumps into you, only trusting himself to let out a low grumble of your name. 

“What’s going— oh,” your brain puts two and two together. “Oh, Miguel, shh. It’s okay, I got you.”

And he breaks. Because he knows you mean it. He knows you have him. You always do.

The tears are bubbling over the rims of his eyes and splashing down his cheeks, his hands are twisted up in your loose shirt. He’s sure his claws have made an entrance too. One of your hands reaches to turn off the stove, the other rubbing incandescent patterns into his back. 

You were always so careful. Never leave the stove on, Miggy. Don’t wanna burn the food. He loves that about you.

“Hey,” your voice wisps in through the fog of his mental breakdown, of the end of the world. “Hey. It’s me. Just me. Your absolute favorite person on this planet.”

“Multiverse.” He manages through sob induced hiccups. 

“Multiverse,” You smile, breathing out a soft laugh as you toil him in closer. “Breathe, my love. I have you. Nobody is here but me, and I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”

He nods, lets himself weigh more onto you.

“That’s it, I got you,” you coax. “Get it out of your system.”

He gives all the tears he has to give. He’s sandwiching you between the counter and his stature, but you don’t seem to mind. Your spilling words, mindlessly, talking until he’s done and ready to attach himself to them, the soft baritone of your voice.

And it takes time, but he gets there. He’s in the tunnel, the walls are caving in, he’s believing he's given all he has to give, but you’re there, and you’re telling him no, no you have not. You don’t get to lose, because you have SO much more life to live.

His light.

The tunnel lets up, opens up the walls, lets him bathe in you, in the way your arms are still hooked tight around his waist and you’re going on about how there was a new episode of your favorite show that he had to watch. 

And of course he would watch it.

He’d do anything for you, anything you asked whenever you wanted. And he knows, in turn, that there wasn’t a damn thing in this god forsaken reality that would stop you from doing the same for him.

You tell him as much. To his face, into his hair, with the dance of your fingers on his back, in the way you guide him to the couch, when you place down some food and a cup of water— you just cried out your backup supply— and again when you place yourself down next to him.

“I’m so beyond lucky to have you.” He murmurs to you, some fifteen minutes into the episode of your show, something about this dude with a metal helmet and a green baby? He can’t recall the name.

You turn, a smile gracing your features. “You deserve me. You deserve everything the multiverse has to offer and more. Dunno what I’d do without you.”

“You’d have one less person bothering you.”

“Ah, yes,” you laugh, swatting his cheek. “Like you’re such a nuisance.”

He laughs, actually laughs. It’s nice.

You tilt your head onto the girth of his shoulder, snuggling in tight as your attention is again sucked into the screen.

He smiles dazedly at you, finally feeling at peace.

Mi luz. My light.

is anyone else still obsessed with him or is that just me

[meet-you-at-the-north-star]

Save the Last Dance For Me

Summary: you and Dick have been dating in secret, until at a party he’s forced by circumstances (coff George Luz coff) to set things straight

Notes: fluff, jealousy

Word count: 1068

“I don't believe you actually have a boyfriend. You were saying that just to throw me off” The brown-eyed soldier insisted in a mocking way.

I smiled to myself and glanced furtively behind me, more or less where I knew the man I was secretely dating must have been.

“Oh you better believe it, George” I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, looking at him quite amused.

“Then who is it? Why is it such a secret?” He asked rolling his eyes.

“I'm really not sure you want to know” I smirked, and that was certainly no lie.

“Alright, alright” he raised his arms in surrender. “Tell you what, let's make a deal: I stop asking about this mysterious guy if you agree to dance with me.” The tone was hopeful: “Just one song” He specified, noticing my raised eyebrow.

I didn't see anything wrong with giving him one dance, so I agreed: “Okay, but I don't want to hear another word about it.” I warned him.

He flashed a toothy smile and offered me his hand, in such a funny and theatrical way that it made me burst out laughing. "You're an idiot"

“I know” He winked.

We began to move to the center of the wide room, where other couples were already dancing. He wasn't exactly a talented dancer and kept tripping over my feet, making us both laugh.

About a minute and a half into the song, we managed to find a slightly more synchronized rhythm. I looked up at his face and little by little his usual playful smile had disappeared, his eyes instead fixed on me with an unusually serious and intense look that left little room for misunderstandings.

Uh oh, I thought. This wasn’t good news. I had been too naive to think that accepting to dance with him wouldn’t send involuntary mixed signals.

“George…” I said, instinctively moving away to leave more space between our bodies.

The song we were dancing to came to an end just then. “One more song?” He half pleaded, his expression so hopeful that it broke my heart a little. I didn’t want to be the one to do this to him.

I looked at him gently. “I'm sorry, I can't” I started to take a step back, but he didn't let go of my left hand, still intertwined with his, almost as if he was struggling and fighting the urge to draw me back to him.

“George” I repeated, voice calm but with a hint of warning.

Before I could do or say anything else, I felt a slight shift of air and then a hand coming to rest lightly on my side. I didn't need to look to know who it belonged to.

George’s eyes widened and he immediately let go of my hand. “Major Winters!” He almost stood at attention. “I-I didn't see you there”

I finally allowed myself to shift my attention to Dick. His gaze was firmly fixated on George and he was barely blinking. I saw no trace of anger or irritation in it (though I knew he was quite good at disguising those), but a clear determination that spoke much louder than words.

“No need for formalities, private, this is a party. I trust that you're having fun?” His tone was calm and polite as usual, but for once almost unnaturally so. As a consequence, it came across as slightly menacing.

George must have sensed the trap, because he soon started babbling: “Yes, sir! I mean…a normal, regular amount of fun. Nothing special going on here. Just one dance” He really stressed the word one.

“I'm glad to hear that” Dick smiled, at last turning his attention towards me. “Because I was really looking forward to this next one. Can I have the honor, miss?”

My heart skipped a beat at that. Jealousy was a new but certainly rather good look on him.

“Of course you can, major” I decided to play along even though it was pretty clear, what he was doing.

When I looked to the side, George had already vanished into thin air. I gave a small chuckle. “You didn't need to terrorize him like that”

“I did no such thing” he said with a smirk, quickly intertwining our fingers, while his other hand was still firmly resting on my right side. The band began playing a slower tempo, romantic song and I gladly let him lead me into the music. He was a pretty good dancer. Then again, I was yet to find anything he couldn’t do well.

Both of my eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure? What happened to keeping secrecy above all?” I teased him.

“Well, it felt like the situation required that I come clean.” He whispered very close to my ear. “Besides, you didn't seem to mind all that much”

I felt a warm rush of adrenaline going through my body, and hoped I wasn't blushing outwardly as I was on the inside.

I recognized it as the effect only he had on me. Being in his arms felt so natural and right, it left no space for doubt in regards to my feelings for this man, and his for me. And I really didn't mind one bit.

“Who are you and what have you done to Dick Winters” I shook my head in disbelief, laughing.

“Does that mean that I should stop?” He inquired.

Without interrupting our slow swaying back and forth to the rhytmn, I placed both of my hands around his neck, bringing him closer, allowing myself to stare straight into his eyes. “Don't you dare”

I saw a brief flash of hesitation passing through those blue eyes, like an implicit request for permission, and I nodded, smiling.

“I've been waiting to do this all night” He gently cupped my face in his hands and kissed me, slowly but ardently, in front of everyone.

I could hear a few gasps and cheers in the background over the sound of the music playing, but when we turned around everybody had gone back to the party acting as if nothing happened.

“You know, major, your men will definitely talk after this” I jokingly protested.

I could feel his smile on my lips as he kissed me again: “Let them”