#Newspaper Ad Designer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

florencemtrash · 11 months

Text

Hummingbird: Chapter Three

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: Terrible science jargon

It was almost silly how quickly the world returned to normal.

Alchemax was splashed on every local newspaper, website, social media account, and TV channel for a solid week before complaints shifted to the neverending construction on the streets of New York. The subway somehow got tighter, packed bodies grumbling about the thirty minutes added to their commute after ten subway cars had fallen through a spot and landed in the Hudson river.

But the events never faded away from your consciousness. The only way you could fall asleep was by leaving all the lights on. It racked up your electric bill like hell, but you couldn’t stand seeing the shadows creep along the wall as nighttime descended on the city - it reminded you too much of the Spot’s blank face and how he managed to stare into your soul without eyes.

Then there was the growing problem of your forgetfulness. You’d never been the best at keeping track of belongings - Mamá always blamed it on your creative brain - but now everything was being misplaced. The alarm clock would disappear from the nightstand and appear in the kitchen, your sock collection was dwindling every day and never making it into the dirty hamper, for Christ’s sake you still hadn’t found your favorite yellow sneakers and it was irritating you to hell and back.

I’m losing my goddamn mind. You often found yourself thinking.

You threw yourself into work, staying in the classroom late to grade and lesson plan until the night crew got used to vacuuming around your feet. You took on extra projects at the Academy, signing up to run after-school detention and volunteering for props and set design for this year’s spring musical “The Addams Family.”

Anything to stay out of your apartment. Anything to keep you from being alone.

Three empty coffee cups mocked your bleary eyes as you sat hunched over the sewing machine after hours. Cheap black lace trailed off the table, slowly shortening as you incorporated the material into Morticia’s dress.

“Fuck!” You hissed in pain and stuck your thumb in your mouth, sucking away the blood from your fourth needle prick of the night. At this rate you’d have more holes punched into you than swiss cheese.

It was time to give up for tonight.

Before you could forget you slipped the stolen Brooklyn Visions Academy uniform from your bag and hid it in the bottom-most cubby in the storage room. The sleeping bag and pillow from your apartment were also stuffed there, ready for Miles to use whenever he needed an extra break from being a superhero. You suspected Gwen had also been sneaking by to visit Miles now that she had more freedom to explore the multiverse - hence the spare uniform.

“How’s he doing?” You’d asked Miles earlier that day. Miguel’s unspoken name had lingered on the tip of your tongue, forcing the color to rise into your cheeks. Luckily Miles knew exactly who you were talking about.

A knowing grin grew on his face, “Not too bad. He seems more on edge than usual, but I hear he’s working on his temper.”

“He’s not body slamming any more teenagers?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good.” You paused, “If he gives you any more trouble, send him my way. I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”

Miles saluted you, “You got it.”

You meant it as a joke… but you also wanted a reason to see him again.

You were just about to switch the light off in your classroom when a flash of yellow caught your eye. Tucked behind a stack of newsprint, the vine charcoal rubbing away on your fingers as you carefully lifted the papers, was your prized pair of yellow converse.

It was too late to think about how they’d ended up so far from home, so you tossed them in your bag, threw out the coffee cups, and saved your muddled mind the trouble of figuring it out tonight.

The midnight subway car was filled with the usual Friday-night suspects - overworked nurses, loners just killing time, drunk party goers covered in more glitter than a kindergartener’s Valentine’s day card, and you.

You didn’t miss Richard, not really. What you really missed was coming home to someone and the feeling of another body weighing down the right side of the bed. More recently you’d been imagining what it would be like to come home to Miguel.

You kicked off your shoes at the bottom of the landing, shuffling up the steps and pulling off your clothes as you went, modesty be damned. By the time you face planted on your bed, hair still damp from the shower, it was nearing 2am and Miguel still hadn’t left your mind. He’d planted himself in your thoughts like a spider too high up on a wall for you to squash and too large for you to ignore.

Mercifully you didn’t have to endure the pains of a schoolgirl crush for very long. Sleep dragged you under and you welcomed it as your mind finally went quiet.

You awoke with a start, suffocating under the heavy blankets that you’d buried yourself in last night. You’d been dreaming again about the collider. You’d been dreaming about Miguel - this time in a feverish haze that left your mind in a puddle on the floor.

How was it possible that a stranger could occupy so much space in your mind? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he’d held you like you were everything and then left without saying goodbye.

But you weren’t complete strangers…

“Aren’t you his wife?”

Miles had asked the question so innocently and Miguel hadn’t said anything against it, so it must be true. Somewhere, in some other universe, you’d been married to one another.

Are you thinking about me too? You wondered, opening your eyes in hopes of chasing the memory of him away.

…Maybe you were still dreaming, because the last time you checked you hadn’t fallen asleep under a tree in Central Park. And even if you had, you highly doubted you could have lugged your mattress and bed frame with you all the way from Brooklyn.

Oh por el amor de Dios.

The glorious thing about New York City is that everyone knew how to mind their own business. So when people saw a high school art teacher in Star Wars pjs leap for joy upon finding a $5 bill on the ground, they didn’t question it.

You were so ecstatic about saving yourself the two-and-a-half hour walk back to Brooklyn that you didn’t remember a highly important piece of information until after you hopped off the subway - you didn’t have your keys or your phone.

Joder.

Your forehead knocked against the front door of your apartment building with an audible clunk.

“Por el amor de la mierda, ¿por qué mi vida es así?” You muttered under your breath.

“Y/n?” Your landlord, Mrs. Fleming, pushed her tortoise-shell glasses higher up on her face, the thick lenses magnifying her eyes to bug-like proportions. “Oh it is you, my dear.”

You groaned, color rushing into your cheeks as you turned around sheepishly. “Good morning, Mrs. Fleming.”

The elderly woman gave you a once-over look, crocheting needles clicking together as she rummaged around in her bag for her keys, “The old walk of shame, I see.”

“What?! Wait, no-this isn’t-I’m not-”

She patted you on the back before unlocking the door and holding it open for you, “I only use the turn of phrase because that’s what you young folks call it. Ain’t nothing shameful in it. It’s good of you to get out there. I never did like Richard much.”

You were at a loss for words.

Mrs. Fleming, sprightly as she was for her age, followed you up to your apartment with her extra set of keys jingling merrily in her hands.

“Now, you have a good rest of your weekend, dear.” She said once you’d been graciously let into your apartment, “And don’t forget your keys next time!”

“Thanks Mrs. Fleming.” You said. Her amused chuckle echoed through the air as she shuffled off to her own apartment.

You sprawled out on the ground where your bed should have been, trying to even out your breathing as the reality of the morning’s events crashed down around you like a house of cards.

This can’t be happening. ¿Qué diablos me pasa?

You rolled onto your stomach, repeatedly banging your face into a spare pillow to muffle the sound of your aggravated screams.

The pillow accepted your frustration with little complaint until something in you just snapped.

All at once the pillow disappeared from beneath you and then blinked into existence by the closet allowing your face to crash into the floor unprotected.

You grabbed at your burning nose, eyes swimming with tears of pain as you registered what had happened.

“No… oh no.”

>>>

The rain beat down irregularly, fluctuating back and forth from being barely a drizzle to a torrential downpour.

You gripped an empty to-go cup in your hand, the tea you’d hoped would calm your nerves long gone.

It took you three hours to make it here. First you kept teleporting your keys away every time you touched them, futilely chasing them around the apartment. Then you’d nearly gotten hit by a taxi and teleported yourself to the bathroom of a tea shop on the Upper West Side. Miraculously your powers had quieted after that, allowing you to get on the subway and here without incident.

A familiar figure made its way down the block, hood up to protect from the rain.

“Miles!” You leapt up from your seat, racing across the street to the annoyed honking of two taxis.

“Miss Y/l/n? How’re you doing?” Miles narrowed his eyes in worry, seeing the way your fingers nervously pulled at a loose string from your sweater, “What happened to your face?” The flesh around your nose was red and tender, slowly transforming into a purple bruise.

“I’m sorry for bothering you like this, but I didn’t know where else to go.” You looked around carefully before lifting the cup in the palm of your hand.

You furrowed your brow in concentration, willing that same power within you to snap into place again.

“What’s supposed to-”

“Just-just give me a minute.”

A minute passed, and nothing. Your heartbeat quickened as you grew more and more flustered.

“Miss Y/l/n are you sure you’re ok?” Skepticism and genuine concern laced his voice.

“I’m fine!”

Snap!

The cup blinked out of existence like an old-school television that had been turned off. Miles saw it reappear over the park across the street and land on a dog walker’s head. The man in question looked up at the sky bewildered, like he expected to find God there.

Miles’s wide eyes met yours.

“Oh shit.”

He pulled you into the empty alleyway behind his building, using his spider webs to straighten the trash cans that rolled around on the ground and clear out a space large enough for the two of you to comfortably stand side by side.

He hung close to the street, Gwen’s face shimmering to life above his wrist as he spoke with his back turned to you.

“Hey, Gwen. I’ve got a situation.” He whispered into the watch.

You caught snippets of their conversation, shrinking in your coat as you tried to suppress the anxiety growing in your chest. If there was anything you’d learned about your powers it was that they tended to flare up with your emotions.

“Do you think we can trust him with this? I don’t want anything to happen to her… Yeah, yeah. No, I understand. I’ll bring her in. See you later.”

Miles turned back to you, a strained smile on his face, “Sorry about that.”

“Miles, what’s going on?” “I got to bring you into Spidey HQ. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but Miguel might.”

He unzipped his raincoat and hoodie, exposing the black and red spider-suit beneath and tugging on his mask.

Your heart gave a flip at the mention of your husband’s name (could you even call him that?). Would he be happy to see you again? Would things be awkward between the two of you?

A familiar watch flashed on his wrist as he began pressing buttons on the orange holographic screen. You’d seen it happen before, a portal of wild glitching colors pulsing to life in front of you, but that didn’t make it any less impressive. Miles stepped into it, dragging you along with him like he was just passing through any regular doorway.

He swept his arm outward, smiling at the expression on your face.

“Welcome to Spidey HQ, Miss Y/l/n.”

Your jaw dropped as you passed through the portal - an actual portal - to Miguel’s dimension.

Hundreds, no thousands, of Spider-People roamed the open air halls, some on two legs, some on four, some on wheels, and some just preferred to swing through the air on webs, catching and releasing the nimble strings with practiced grace from the walkways that crossed overhead like… well like a spider’s web.

Miguel certainly hadn’t wasted the spider concept when it came to their headquarters.

“I didn’t know there was a universe composed entirely of Spider-Men…Spider-People?… Spider…” A cat hissed at your feet when you nearly stepped on its tail as you blindly followed Miles through the crowd, “Spider-Things?”

“Sorry Spider-Cat!” Miles said as the feline grumbled, tail high in the air as it calmly leapt onto the wall and continued on its way as though gravity were only an inconvenience.

“Actually, every world has only one Spider-Person, but the Alchemax explosion last year ended up opening holes into other universes. Miguel created this place as a hub for Spider-People while everyone tries to fix the anomalies.”

“Anomalies?”

“Yeah, beings that have accidentally gotten stuck in another world.”

“Oh… yeah that makes total sense..” Your words trailed off as a roaring laugh caught your attention, “Is that… is that a dinosaur?”

You pointed at the group crowded around a cafeteria table howling with laughter. Burgers bounced on trays as the T-Rex doubled over to slap the table for dramatic effect.

“AY YO, REXA!” Miles shouted over your head, throwing his arms up wildly.

Rexa exposed razor sharp teeth in a grin and waved one short arm towards you. You returned a meek wave in return.

“That’s Rexa. She’s super funny. Just uh…” he covered his mouth before whispering in your ear, “Maybe don’t mention anything about her arms. She gets a little sensitive.”

“Oh…yeah, of course. No problem.”

Miles continued to lead you through the building, periodically taking breaks for you to catch up as you kept your eyes trained on everything except the path he’d carved in front of you. At one point you simply disappeared from view, reappearing four stories up in a psychiatrist’s office.

A tweed-suited Spider-Man jumped in his seat, dropping the box of tissues he’d been preparing to throw to his client.

“Oh! I… I’m so sorry.” You said, flustered at the sight of a sandy haired Peter Parker variant sobbing his eyes out into a spider plushie. You inched along the wall towards the door, “I’m just-I’m just going to make my way out.”

You closed the door as quietly as possible, turning around and coming face to face with Miles again. You jumped and snapped, this time landing on Rexa’s table, foot squishing her burger into roadkill.

You groaned and tilted your head up, watching Miles sail out the office window and swing his way down.

This was going to take a while.

There was no shortage of Spiderpeople to steal your attention, but finally after a few (uninterrupted) turns down pristine white hallways and an elevator ride into the belly of Spidey HQ, it was just you and Miles again.

From his lair, Miguel traced your figure with his eyes. When you caught sight of the camera in the elevator, its red pupil narrowing in on you, you smiled sheepishly and waved. The small action made his stomach flip like a schoolboy who’d been given his first kiss.

He needed to pull himself together before he saw you face to face again.

“I’m just saying, I think this is a good thing, Miguel.” Peter B. said, swinging up to the platform and wrapping an arm around Miguel’s broad shoulders. Mayday crawled out and onto the control board, pressing buttons haphazardly and closing half the screens. She clapped her hands in wonder and Miguel grumbled half-heartedly.

Once she started walking, all bets were off. She’d be an absolute menace to Spider Society. Already she liked to treat Miguel like her personal playscape, crawling onto his shoulders and tugging at his brown curls.

Her antics almost made him smile… almost.

“If she’s here then that can only mean something’s wrong.” Miguel said, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen and ignoring Mayday as she slumped over his back, slowly sliding down his chest and into his waiting arms with a dramatic sigh.

You looked tired and nervous, fingers tugging at the strings of your raincoat. A purple bruise spread out from your nose, moving with the curve of your cheekbones. Had someone hurt you?

Miguel’s blood began to boil.

“Or,” Peter bumped his hips against Miguel’s, “it could mean she wants to see you again.”

“Stop that.” Miguel growled.

“Stop what?”

Stop giving me hope.

Miguel was about to bite back at Peter and wipe the mischievous grin on his face when the doors slid open. Miles’s voice rang through the empty space.

“These are all those anomalies I was telling you about. Doc Oc, Rhino, Sandman, Mysterio. I don’t even want to know who that is.”

“Why is it so dark in here?”

“Miguel likes to brood. I think he’s part vampire.”

Miguel tossed Mayday into her father’s arms, swiftly turning around and busying himself at the control panel to distract from the pounding of his heart. A dozen screens flashed to life above the control board and Miguel concentrated on none of them.

Peter grinned like a madman. This was going great.

“Miss Y/n!” He shouted out, throwing his hands in the air before hopping off the platform. Mayday squealed in delight and copied his actions. Miguel only cursed under his breath and rubbed his temples. Leave it to Peter to be the cause of 90% of his headaches.

“Looking good, teach!”

“Ummm… thanks?” You responded as Mayday grabbed at you with chubby fingers. You didn’t have much choice but to hold her as Peter thrust her into your arms. Fear jolted through you like a lightning strike and you quickly handed her off to Miles, the poor girl frowning and continuing to make grabbing motions at you. The last thing you wanted was to make Mayday disappear from your arms.

Peter tipped his head to the side but for once made no comment. He continued to chat you up, pulling small smiles from your lips and ignoring the way you kept glancing at Miguel as his platform slowly lowered to the ground.

He had his hands on his hips, bright red and blue Spider-suit cutting a striking silhouette against the dark background.

If he’d noticed you walking into the room, he didn’t show it and you tried your best not to deflate at that realization.

“Don’t worry. He just likes to make an entrance,” Miles whispered in your ear. And some entrance that was. He stepped off the platform, back tight and straight as he moved forward with measured, even footsteps.

Miles took one step forward, angling his body in front of you with a weariness in his eyes.

Miguel stopped, face betraying nothing as he looked you up and down once.

“I never thought I’d see you again.” The words would have sounded romantic coming from someone else’s lips, but from him they just sounded dry and clinical.

“Same here.” You said. The words came out breathlessly.

“What’s happened?”

His hand hovered in the air between you two before he swiftly dropped it to his side. He wanted to reach out and touch your face. He wanted to tilt your chin upwards so he could take a good look at the damage done to your nose and make sure you were ok. Perhaps if you’d been alone he would have allowed himself to do it, but as it was, they had company.

“We need your help, Miguel.” Miles cut through the tension, “Something’s up with Miss Y/l/n. She’s got powers now - teleportation similar to the Spot’s.”

His heart stuttered in his chest.

“Is that true?” he said, desperately looking to you for answers. The Spot’s powers had made him unstable in more ways than one and Miguel shivered to think about anything happening to you.

You nodded, “Things keep disappearing when I touch them. Sometimes I accidentally teleport to places when I’m frustrated. I didn’t realize what was going on until I woke up in Central Park last night.”

Miguel turned around, muttering under his breath as his mind raced a thousand steps ahead of him.

Of all the people this could have happened to, it had to be you. He thought he’d done the right thing by leaving you alone, forcing himself not to portal to your dimension every night. His multiversal travels had taught him a thing or two about the ways things operated. Some figures, like Peter Parker’s Spider-Man were well represented across worlds. Some figures, like himself, were harder to come by.

As for you? He only knew of three worlds where you existed - in one world, his actions had led to your death and the death of your daughter. In the second, Spot had murdered you in his quest to figure out Spider-Man’s identity.

And in this one…

Well he thought he’d been keeping you safe.

Teleportation was a dangerous ability - unpredictable and difficult to control. Left unchecked you could find yourself in front of a car speeding down the highway or at the top of Mount Everest or in a different dimension altogether, constantly glitching as your molecules broke apa-

“Wait,” Miguel stiffened, back tightening as he swiveled around on his heels, “Where’s your watch?”

“My watch?” you glanced at your naked wrist, “I mean I usually just check my phone for the t-”

“No, your day pass watch. The thing that stabilizes you in this universe.”

Miles’s eyes blew open. “Mierda. Sabía que había olvidado algo.”

“How long have you two been here?”

“Maybe two hours.” You guessed.

“And nothing’s happened?”

“Is something supposed to happen?”

Even Peter B. looked concerned. Panic rose in your chest and you threatened to snap. Miguel reached out and grasped your wrist, palm sliding down until you felt the weight and warmth of his hand wrapped in yours. He led you to the med bay, Peter and Miles following closely behind.

The paper atop the padded examination table crinkled as you took a seat, watching Miguel’s broad shoulders flex and stretch as he dug an extra watch out from the back of a cabinet.

“Lyla, run a scan of Y/n.”

The woman flickered to life in front of him. “What’s the magic word?” She fluttered her eyelashes.

“Lyla.” He was in no mood for games today

“Ok, ok. Don’t be testy.” Lyla appeared in front of you, an orange scanner materializing in her hands that swept across your body with a cool touch. “Scan complete.”

“Here you go,” Miguel felt some relief pour back into his body as he fastened the watch around your wrist, hand lingering against your pulse like he wanted further confirmation that you were alive and well.

“Hey, why does she get one of the fancy ones?” Miles protested. The watch, identical to the ones worn by Miguel, Peter, and Miles flashed its face at you. It was far too elaborate and expensive to be just a day pass.

Miguel ignored him, walking over to one of the monitors and skimming through the output data.

“It took six months for Miguel to give me one of those bad boys,” The paper crinkled again as Peter hopped onto the table beside you, whispering, “Looks like someone’s got a favorite,” and earning a glare from Miguel.

Peter winked suggestively.

Miguel scowled.

Your cheeks turned a rosy red, your coat disappearing from around your shoulders and landing in a rumple at Miguel’s feet like the world’s worst suggestive gesture. Peter howled with laughter.

“No puedo creerlo.” Miguel whispered, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Lyla, am I looking at this right?”

“You sure are. Y/n’s DNA is perfectly stable. Not a trace of multiversal quantum poisoning to be found. And! Her radiation signature matches that of more than a thousand different universes. Bet you’ve never seen that before.”

“How is that even possible?”

“Hmmmm, let me think.” Lyla spun around in a digital office chair, waiting for her moment to break the dramatic pause. Miguel groaned - he would need to improve her code and tone down the dramatism. “Looks like packets of quantum energy from across the multiverse were released during the Alchemax hypercompact fusion explosion and merged with the only unaltered sentient lifeform in the vicinity.”

“Dios mio.”

At the end of her explanation she bowed gracefully, arm and fur-lined coat sweeping off to the side.

“Did you get any of that?” Peter asked out of the corner of his mouth.

“Peter, I took forestry as my science gen ed in art school and barely passed so… no.”

“Uhhh, can you repeat it for the rest of the class?” Miles piped up.

Lyla leaned forward, one hand on her hip and the other tipped her heart-shaped sunglasses onto her head.

“Y/n absorbed energy from a ton of different universes so as far as the multiverse is concerned, she doesn’t register as an anomaly. No glitching. No dying outside of her universe without a watch. No predicted multiversal collapse.” Lyla smiled. “Predicted.”

You looked less than pleased. The last month had been filled to the brim with life-altering events from finding out Miles was a superhero, to getting kidnapped and nearly dying, to finding out your variant’s husband was an all-too-attractive, brooding Spider-Man. It was getting to be too much - you were a teacher for crying out loud! Maybe you’d have handled it better if you were a crime-fighting detective, or a fancy scientist, or a millionaire with access to the latest tech and weapons. Instead you were just… you.

“Can you fix it?”

Miguel flinched at the look on your face. You were looking to him for help and for answers, but he couldn’t provide them in any satisfactory way. He’d never encountered anyone with your abilities.

The confusion and fear that came with discovering your powers - that was a journey all Spider-People went through, and they usually went through it alone.

Miguel sighed, “There’s nothing to fix, Y/n.” He said the words with a softness no one had heard from him in years, perhaps ever, “This is who you are now.”

“So I’m just going to be stuck like this forever?”

“Having powers isn’t so bad.” Peter chimed in with a small smile. “From time to time, it can actually be pretty awesome.”

You allowed a small, empty smile to grow on your lips. It was a smile Miguel was well acquainted with - the kind of smile that said I’m not fine, but I want you to believe that I am.

“I have some tests we could run.” Miguel offered up, “I can’t reverse what’s happened but maybe I can come up with something to help you control your powers, at least while you’re learning how to use them.”

You nodded, the smile turning into something real, “I would like that. Thank you.”

Peter was practically vibrating with excitement when he caught the look that passed between the two of you and the hint of hope on Miguel’s usually stony face.

He clapped his hands down on Miles’s shoulders, “Well would you look at the time? I need to put Mayday down for her nap and grab some food. You’ll learn this soon enough, but being a superhero does burn the calories.”

He hopped off the table, waltzing all the way to the door before he noticed that Miles was missing from his side. “Miles! Come join me.”

“Actually, I was going to wait with-”

“Miles.” Peter coughed into his fist, bug eyes burning into Miles until he got the hint.

“Oh? Oh! Yeah, sorry Miss Y/l/n, I forgot I told Gwen I’d meet up with her.”

You waved him off, “I’ll be fine, Miles. Thanks for everything.”

“I’ll show her how to use the watch and send her home when we’re finished.” Miguel said, pulling on a lab coat that had been draped over his office chair. He rarely had time to work in the lab, more focused on his primary duty of maintaining the stability of the multiverse, but the familiar glide of the fabric over his skin did help to relax him. It reminded him of the old days when Spider-Man didn’t exist and the multiverse was just a fun theory tossed around at company lunches.

A thin silence stretched between you two after Miles and Peter left, and you contented yourself with watching Miguel as he busily typed away at his monitor, labeled vials, and prepared the syringes. Every movement was practiced and controlled like he’d done this a million times before.

Miguel was screaming on the inside. You were close enough for his heightened senses to pick up on the honey lemon shampoo you used tinged with the woodsy scent of linseed oil. He was powerless under your gaze like an insect trapped under a microscope.

“I just need to collect some blood samples.” Miguel said, gently holding out his hand. You offered your arm up without complaint, distracting yourself from the pinch of the needle by reading the faded name tag printed on his lab coat.

You whistled low to break the tension, “Dr. O’Hara. That’s impressive. What kind of doctor are you?”

“I was a geneticist. Not the medical kind though. I worked in research at Alchemax.”

“Is that how you got your spidey powers?”

He rolled his eyes, “They’re not spidey powers, they’re acrachno-humanoid genetic augmentations.”

“Qué estúpido. Just call them spidey powers. You scientists just like to give things complicated names to feel superior.” The corner of Miguel’s lips quirked up every so slightly. The thrill of seeing any emotion on Miguel’s face lightened the feeling in your chest.

“Was it hard becoming Spider-Man?” You asked.

Miguel shrugged, wiping away the small bead of blood on your arm. “I had it easier than most. I was already looking into the possibility of combining human and arachnid DNA and I had the resources to study my powers.” Miguel paused. It had been a long time - too long - since he’d had a conversation like this with anyone. He could cast his mind back to talks with you his wife, but those had always been domestic in nature.

“The hardest part was not having anyone to talk to.” He said, finishing his thought.

“Sounds lonely.” You remarked, accepting the q-tip from him and swabbing the inside of your cheek. He collected the sample in a vial of greenish liquid and gave it a thorough shake, “Do you have people now that you talk to?”

“No.” His answer was short and to the point.

You’d touched a sore spot and you decided to prod it. “Would you like someone to talk to?”

Again, the corner of his lips twitched, “Are you offering?”

You copied his shrug from earlier, “Maybe.”

He took a few more cheek swabs and then a strand of hair. His hand lingered by your cheek, frowning as he took in the bruise on your face.

Now that you two were alone he dared to gently tilt your head to the side.

“You never told me what happened.”

Your hands flew up to your face in embarrassment and Miguel saw the tips of your ears grow red. He liked it.

“I may or may not have teleported my pillow away right before smashing my face into the floor.”

The breath left his lungs in a quiet chuckle. That sounded like something you’d do.

“But no one’s bothering you?”

“What? Oh no. No, it’s nothing like that.”

He nodded, the tightness in his chest unraveling with that knowledge. He knew you weren’t his wife and he knew that you didn’t know him well enough yet, but that didn’t stop him from caring. The truth was he liked you from the moment you slapped his shoulder and cursed at him, and it wasn’t just because you looked like someone from his past.

“This will take some time to work through.” He tilted his head towards where the tabletop machines whirred and spun, “But if I’m right, I may be able to adjust your watch to stabilize you in a specific place, not just a specific universe. It’s not a permanent fix but you won’t be waking up in Central Park again anytime soon.”

“That would be preferable.”

You moved to take off the watch and hand it over to Miguel but he stopped you.

“Keep this one. In case anything happens you can contact me or the other Spider-People,” He said, walking her through the steps of using the watch, “Headquarters is always open so if anything happens, come here.”

You nodded. With an encouraging look from Miguel you punched “Earth-1610” into the locator and then your home address.

Just like last time the portal bloomed open beside you, scattering a few loose papers on the ground. Through the portal you caught a glimpse of your living room, citylights flashing outside your window.

“Come back next week. Until we have a better understanding of your powers it would be good for us to monitor you and check that you’re stable.”

And it would be good for you to see her again.

Miguel squashed the thought as soon as it popped into his brain in Peter’s voice. He really needed to stop spending so much time with him.

You stepped through the portal and were embraced by the familiar smell of your apartment. It made you feel better about what was to come. You turned to smile at Miguel, his tired eyes lighting up ever so slightly.

“I’ll see you next week then.”

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

_________ Author's note: Here's the next chapter! Let me know what you guys think of the writing and where the story is going. I'm hoping to dive more deeply into Y/n x Miguel's relationship in the coming chapters so get ready for angst and fluff!

Taglist: @geraskier-thots @howabouticallyou @sweetheartlizzie07 @dont-mind-me27 @omg-edzia-stuff @sarcastically-defensive17 @trouble-sistar @saltyluminaryvoid @lunablue001 @sadslasher13 @yas-v @thel0v3hashira143 @trishuh8 @vague-flying-shape @tiana76 @dinuxia-bhm @mxtokko @devilsrose666 @natbratty @zettoaizawa-shusband @dorck26 @notasadgirlipromise @niyanispunk @thecraziestcrayon @athenxt @imnotyourbcbe @jannajuju @lunamoonbby @elle-19 @aces148 @sseleniaa @elaineiswithyou-blog @summerli-u @rattlethemskulls @sunseekerlove @bubbabobabubbles @loonalockley @aleombre @littlelilies @07-bilin @nerdalicios @insanely-creative-things @enby-rising @nataliahemsworth @coralineyouareinterribledanger @louderfortheback @damnzelsoul @enheduannasposts @bontensbabygirl @mynameiswilliamblake

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x wife reader #atsv x y/n #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spider man 2099 #miles morales #gwen stacy #hobie brown #pavit #peter parker #peter b parker #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n

608 notes · View notes

sprakdesigns · 2 years

Text

How to Become a Newspaper Ad Designer in 5 Simple Steps

Do you have an eye for design, excellent copy-editing skills, and an interest in the advertising industry? Then you will be good for newspaper ad design.

If you’re hoping to begin a career as a newspaper Ad designer, you may be wondering how to become one in the first place.

While there are no degrees in newspaper Ad design, it’s still possible to learn the job by studying and observing experts in the field of newspaper advertising design.

By following these five simple steps, you’ll be well on your way to becoming a newspaper Ad designer with an impressive portfolio and an impressive career ahead of you!

What Is A Newspaper Ad Designer?

A newspaper ad designer creates and designs ads for newspapers. Newspaper ad designers typically work on their own or with a team of other designers.

They are responsible for translating their client's message into an attractive, eye-catching advertisement that will be seen by many potential customers.

What Will My Role as a Newspaper Ad Designer Entail?

The newspaper ad designer will be responsible for creating and designing the advertisements that are printed on the pages of a newspaper.

Ad designers need to have a great eye for layout and design, as they will be responsible for not only making the advertisement look good, but also making sure that it is positioned correctly on a page.

Designers must also make sure that their ads are readable and aesthetically pleasing.

What Are the Steps To Becoming a Newspaper Ad Designer?

There are many steps to becoming an effective newspaper ad designer.

Whether you want to design ads for local newspapers, or national newspapers, or work at an advertising agency, there is a step-by-step process that will help you become an expert.

Also read: How to Decide Between Hiring An Architect Or A Designer

Step 1. The first step is to get an education

There is an education process that you must go through if you want to become a newspaper ad designer. There are many people who work for newspapers as newspaper ad designers.

They create and design the ads for various products, companies, and services, you can learn informally from these by studying from them.

A bachelor's degree in graphic design or advertising design is typically required for graphic design positions.

Some businesses do not require such a high level of education for employment. A varied curriculum covering design theories, illustration, typefaces, branding, photography, computer design, Web design and printing techniques should be expected.

Step 2. Create an Irresistible Resume

A great resume is the key to landing interviews and securing the right job.

And while it's important that your resume be concise, informative, and tailored to the position you're applying for, what really sets it apart are its aesthetics.

Don't underestimate how much of an impression an attractive, well-designed resume will make on a hiring manager or recruiter.

Step 3. Showcase Your Skills

Designing newspaper ads is a great way for designers to get their name out there and show off their skills.

It's also an excellent opportunity for creative minds who are interested in advertising or marketing.

To become a newspaper ad designer, you'll need the following skills

1) A background in graphic design

2) Excellent time management skills

3) A high level of creativity

4) Skills with Adobe Creative Suite

Step 4. Learn from Peers and Mentors

Find out what newspaper ads are, and how they differ from other forms of advertising. Seek out people who have experience designing newspaper ads, and show them your work.

Ask them what they think you should do with it, and ask for their advice on the design process. By learning from peers and mentors, you'll be able to learn what works in the industry and hone your skills quicker than if you were just self-taught.

Step 5. Network

One of the most important things you can do when looking for employment is networking.

Newspapers often hire freelancers for jobs, so it's important to have connections with editors or people in charge of design at your local newspapers.

Find out who works at the company where you are interested in working and reach out to them. Ask if they know someone with similar skills who would be willing to serve as a reference or mentor while you are learning the ropes.

You will also want to attend industry-related conferences, such as newspaper owner meetings, so that you can meet people and find out about opportunities.

#newspaper Ad designer

0 notes

zagreuses-art · 9 months

Text

a poster/cover for The Truth I designed in printing class. It uses risograph printing, relief carving, and typesetting.

[ID: a black and white relief print in the style of the illustrated police news. At the top inside the title "The Truth" is printed in bold . Below, in a room a photorealistic Gutenberg press is highlighted by a spunky halo of news print. Gunilla Goodmountain, a dwarf with a black beard and medieval style clothes, is standing with a hand on the press. His husband Boddony, another bearded dwarf, is holding a box of lead type. In the foreground William deWorde, a man with long-ish hair in a collared shirt, is sitting at a desk with a hand in his har, editing something with a pencil, he looks stressed. Sacharissa Crisplock, a woman with long curly hair in a vaguely Victorian dress, is leaning over the end of the desk with a sheaf of paper. Otto chreik, a dracula style vampire in a tailed waistcoat, is holding up an iconograph. At the bottom of the illustration "Pratchett" is printed in a border in smaller bold text. End ID]

Easter eggs:

- the printing press is a reconstructed Gutenberg press

- the news text behind it features an apology from the Oxford Gazette (arguably first newspaper) about the last edition being delayed due to The Great Fire Of London; a letter to the editor of the London Times by Charles Dickins; a page of ads from the 1800's; and a article from the Illustrated Police News about a 'orrible murder

- i based the art style on the Illustrated Police New's more cartoon-y illustrations

- I based Gunilla Goodmountains design on a illustration of Gutenberg

- I meant to have the text be in Boddoni (because that's the other dwarfs name) but I mixed up font trays and it ended up being Weiss I think, the "Pratchett" is in sestina I believe

- it was really hard to line up all three layers of this

#discworld #the truth #william de worde #sacharissa cripslock #otto chreik #GNU terry pratchett #gunilla goodmountain #boddony goodmountain #printmaking #linocut #my art

541 notes · View notes

easternblocrelics · 1 year

Photo

On the Sea of the World Informs you precisely daily East-Hungary (Newspaper) 1983

#1983 #hungary #eastern bloc #east hungary #newspaper #ad #advertistment #socialist #socialism #vintage #design #calendar #pocket calendar

23 notes · View notes

mortalityplays · 3 months

Text

Unprintable: Free art drop #1

We've finally launched, with a modest collection of free works but one that hopefully sets the tone for what you can expect going forward. We have...

Prints!

Punk is a Playlist can be as decorative or as paggro as you like, depending where you hang it, while THINK is perfect for distribution at rallies, inside libraries, or slipped inside the free newspaper on the bus. Meanwhile Screamscape Harmonium is a purely silly tribute to extreme video game ads of the 90s (and part of the inspiration for starting this project, after one particular word of copy made it difficult to have professionally printed).

Art and graphics!

Falling Skyline and Alligator Feelings are older digital drawings being offered up for a new life as public domain pieces, while Daffodils by Any Means Necessary is a mixed-media painting created out of packing paper and old dried up art supplies specifically for Unprintable. Monster Backgrounds are a gorgous set of digital patterns designed for use as phone and tablet wallpapers (but don't let that stop you from using them elsewhere!)

Poetry!

An instant zine kit!

To to mark the launch of Unprintable, I wanted to officially invite everyone to the world of zine-making. The instant zine is a double-sided printable document that walks you step by step through writing, illustrating and folding your first attempt. Print it yourself and make a tiny book about something close to your heart, or print 30 and bring them to class! Anyone can give art away for free, it turns out.

#free art #public domain #zine making

156 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

Text

Read Supportive Uncle Wayne Series Part 1 first :)

————————————————————————

Eddie and Steve slept for hours, while Wayne sat waiting. He kept a few crossword puzzles by his designated chair for the times he sat with Eddie, but this time, he couldn’t focus on anything but the way Steve and Eddie kept moving closer to each other in small ways in their sleep.

He’d considered waking Steve up a few times just so he didn’t have to watch his back and neck bend at such an impossible angle.

But god, he was resting.

Wayne wasn’t interrupting any sleep that boy got.

But he watched them both curl into each other incrementally, barely moving, yet always closer together every time Wayne looked at them.

Steve’s face was almost completely buried against Eddie’s “good” hip. If you asked Wayne, he didn’t have a good hip, he just had less stitches on one side.

Eddie’s right hand was placed in Steve’s on the bed, and his left hand was holding onto Steve’s hair for dear life. Like if he let go, Steve would disappear entirely.

From what Wayne knew of Steve so far, he wouldn’t be going anywhere unless he was physically forced.

Eddie’s body was relaxed, the drugs constantly flowing through the IV probably keeping him from experiencing any major pain. He had more stitches in his body than a sweater, and Wayne had no idea how he would heal physically or mentally from any of what happened.

But Wayne was honestly more worried for Steve.

Steve, the boy who had been exhausted since he was a small child, the boy who had refused medical care to make sure Eddie wasn’t alone or scared, the boy always secretly ready to let someone down.

He knew Richard Harrington. He knew how much of a showboat he was, how he never did anything unless it benefitted him personally or led to financial gain. Wayne even remembered shortly after Steve was born, he took an ad in the newspaper for a nanny who was willing to work ‘most days of the week and some nights, minimum wage, cooking and cleaning expected.’ Within a week, Richard and his wife Anne, were gone more than they were home.

Wayne wasn’t much for socializing or he probably would have caught Steve out and about with the nanny often. God knows Richard and Anne weren’t going to run errands.

But looking at the young adult in front of him, he had to think maybe it was a good thing Richard didn’t dig his claws in too deep. He knew if he had, Eddie would have been sitting alone right now, and Steve would be at some Ivy League college becoming something he didn’t even realize he didn’t want until it was too late.

Eddie visibly tensed, his body suddenly going rigid.

Steve was awake and fretting over Eddie before Wayne could even stand up from his chair.

“What hurts? Is it your side? I was hurting you wasn’t I? I’m sorry, Eds, really. I didn’t…”

“Steve. Please shut up. I wanted you there.”

Wayne noticed when Eddie spoke, his voice was raspy from disuse. He was still tense, but he was forcing a smile for Steve’s sake.

Wayne wasn’t having that. No matter how much Steve cared about Eddie, and Eddie cared about Steve, he wasn’t about to let either of them lie about their health.

“I’ll go get the nurse.”

Steve and Eddie both turned to look at Wayne when he spoke, cheeks red with embarrassment.

“Oh, didn’t know you were here.”

Eddie was still forcing a smile, but now it was pointed at Wayne like he wouldn’t see how fake it was.

Like he didn’t know all of Eddie’s tells since he was 13 and trying to hide how scared he was about living with him.

Wayne didn’t respond, just left the room to grab Janet, who sat alone at the nurse’s station during calmer periods in the chaos.

He hurried back in while she got the doctor on staff to see that Steve was helping Eddie adjust himself a bit in bed.

“Damn bats, Jesus Christ!”

Eddie let out a loud yelp and Steve froze.

“What was that?”

“What wasn’t it at this point?”

Eddie was breathing heavily, and his heart monitor started beeping more frantically.

“Son, you need to sit still until the doctor gets in here.”

Wayne wasn’t about to watch him hurt himself more and it didn’t seem like Steve knew how to make it better or stop him on his own.

“My side hurts like this.”

“I think your side will hurt any which way you try to be.”

Steve placed a hand on Eddie’s cheek, gently turning his face so he was looking at only Steve.

“You can be still for a minute, right? For me?”

Wayne’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“Yeah.”

Wayne’s jaw was practically on the floor.

He’d been in charge of Eddie for 7 years and had never once been able to get him to listen the first time. Not a single time.

Before he could say anything, the doctor came in, followed by a handful of nurses, including Janet.

Janet sent him a smile, but hurried over to stand next to the doctor at Eddie’s bed.

“Well, Mr. Munson. You sure are lucky.”

“I’ll feel a lot luckier when I’m not in pain.”

“Where does it hurt?”

Eddie glared at the doctor. Steve glared at Eddie.

“Mostly my side. My chest hurts a little and my left hip and leg are sore.”

“Your left side is in pretty rough shape. You’ve got about 298 stitches holding you together.” The doctor checked his pupils and his heart rate before continuing. “Go ahead and start another morphine drip, same dose as before.”

The doctor turned to Wayne.

“He’s probably going to sleep the next dose off over the next 24 hours, so you can head home. We’ll call if he wakes up earlier.”

The doctor turned to Steve, deep frown on his face.

“You, too. He needs rest.”

Steve was refusing to make eye contact with anyone at this point and Wayne was almost certain he knew why.

Steve’s father wasn’t known for being a particularly kind or loving man. One wouldn’t have to think too hard to come to the conclusion that he was harder on his son than anyone else. The doctor was speaking to him in a way that would have made Wayne’s hackles rise for Eddie, and they did for Steve too.

“I think Steve should stay.”

Wayne wasn’t going to let either of his boys go without each other if it meant they’d get some sleep.

“We do recommend that Eddie have very limited visitors.”

“If I may,” Janet spoke up. “Steve’s been here the entire time and it hasn’t affected Eddie’s sleeping. We can’t be everywhere all the time so it would be nice for someone to stay with him and come get us if he wakes up again.”

The doctor gritted his teeth together but gave a single nod before exiting the room. Most of the nurses followed behind while Janet made herself busy playing with the buttons on Eddie’s IV pole.

“Thanks Janet. What’s that doctor’s problem?” Wayne asked as he made his way to the bed.

“He came in while you were downstairs and saw the um, sleeping arrangement. He wasn’t too fond of you seeming so close.”

“We can be more careful,” Eddie mumbled, body slowly relaxing into the bed.

“Or he can just deal with it,” Janet shrugged.

She sent a wink to Steve, then turned to Wayne.

“He should be feeling a lot better now. Right Eddie?”

“This is way better than the stuff I have.”

Wayne shook his head, but couldn’t help but smile at his nephew’s antics.

“I won’t ask questions I don’t want the answer to,” Janet said as she walked out of the room. She turned to wave and then closed the door to give them all some privacy.

Wayne looked down at Eddie.

He was so pale. He’d lost so much weight in the last week, and he barely had any to give to begin with. His hair was dirty and greasy, and despite Steve and Janet giving his face and arms a wipe down, he still had dirt under his nails.

Wayne didn’t know the details of what happened. They said it was earthquake related, but he knew better. He knew if this was just an earthquake, Steve wouldn’t have stood guard by his bed for days on end.

He was just glad Eddie was alive and awake.

He placed a hand on his right shoulder.

“I’m glad to hear your voice, kiddo.”

Eddie’s eyes were glassy and his smile was much brighter than before when he responded.

“Glad you hear my voice, too. Have you met Steve? He’s my boyfriend. Or maybe not? I want him to be though. Do you think he likes me?”

Wayne looked over at a bright red Steve, then smiled down at Eddie.

“I think he likes you a lot, kid. You get some rest. Steve will still be here when you wake up, alright?”

“You too?”

“Sure.”

So Wayne stayed, and Steve stayed. Wayne watched them both as Eddie slept.

Steve didn’t fall back asleep. He looked like he needed to, but any time his eyes started to slip shut, he shook his head and widened his eyes trying to fight it.

“Steve?”

“Yes, sir?”

Wayne watched as Steve’s body curled in on itself defensively.

“None of that. You can call me Wayne.” When Steve nodded, Wayne continued. “Whoever you are to Eddie, I hope you know you’ve got me, okay? I know Eddie must like ya a whole lot for him to say any of what he did regardless of the drugs in his system. And you must like him a whole lot to not leave his side this long. But you gotta get some rest, son.”

“I take naps in the chair sometimes.”

“A nap ain’t rest. Especially not if you’ve been through war.”

“I…”

“You don’t have to tell me. I’m sure I shouldn’t know. But I been there. And I’m not lettin’ ya suffer the way I did when I came home.”

Steve’s eyes were watering and Wayne knew if he watched this boy cry, he’d be done for.

So when Steve’s first tear fell, Wayne got up and joined Steve on the other side of the bed, pulling him out of the chair and into his arms.

Steve was injured, and hadn’t had proper medical attention or pain medication, but he ignored it to fall apart in Wayne’s arms.

“That’s alright now. Let it out, son. Let it out.”

Wayne felt a tear fall down his own cheek. He couldn’t have possibly predicted this moment, but he knew he was meant to be in it.

He was meant to be here with Steve, providing something the boy needed for a long, long time.

He was meant to be someone for Steve the same way he was meant to be someone for Eddie.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #stranger things #ao3fic #headcanon #tumblr drabbles #part two #Wayne is a good uncle #and he’s officially adopted Steve

992 notes · View notes

athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 6 months

Text

All I Have Is Yours

Chapter One

Rated Explicit | Warning: Usual period drama

Ao3

Chapter Two

“I could take everything and leave you with nothing. Your only choice would be to work at a brothel.” The prospector's words are cold, sharp as the metal of a newly made pickaxe.

“Would you… Visit me?” There you sit in the carriage-style automobile with Norton beside you, “I would hope you will allow me to still show my love for you.” Shy as you look down and toy with the button on your coat. “For free of course! I don't deserve a cent of your money.”

Norton frowns, his grip on his knee pressing hard enough his blunt nails are digging into the fabric of his new pants. A full suit with a long coat, something he never thought he would ever afford let alone own.

You place your hand on top of his, gloveless so he can feel the warmth of your hand, “I love you, Mr. Campbell. I do not expect it in return but I hope you do not mind my love for you.”

He stares at the wedding ring on your finger, it matches his own. A simple design, gold, and he weighs on him for he is using it to keep you on a leash. A leash you happily put on yourself as you hand him the control and power he always wanted. No, Norton wants security and not have to fight for scraps every day of his life!

Norton sneers as he hisses out with venom yet it holds no potency, “Pathetic.” His head turns towards the window but his eyes are on you, the sweet smile on your pretty face he can see through the window reflection. You would– Have given him everything.

The paperwork was completed, the marriage certificate was signed, and just recently he got to see your father's company as the owner. It was in vigoring.

The arrival to the manor, his manor now, couldn't happen sooner. From what he read in the newspaper about your father, he built this place in honor of your mother who passed after your birth. The article says he put his ‘blood, sweat, and tears’ into this place but Norton has seen your father’s hands. That man has never seen a day of hard labor in his life.

The driver stops in front of the entrance to first let you out then Notorn, a bow follows and they return to the car to park in the back. You stand beside your husband, hand nervous to hold his.

A sharp whistle comes from those no longer chapped lips, “All this is mine.” Greed.

“I do hope you like it here.” You stay following him to the door where the butler opens it and slightly bows as he delivers a form greeting and welcome.

Then your husband slams the door on you, right in front of your face.

“Do not let that waste of space in!” He ordered the butler as he took off his coat and tossed it to the maid who stood there utterly shocked and holding his coat in her waiting arms.

There is silence as he stands there with his fist clenching and unclenching, a rage that spilled threats to take him. He breathes in and out, slowly as he counts. His right hand touches his left hand where he feels your lingering warmth, those pretty eyes of yours that easily express your love for him.

The prospector has won, he has everything that bastard owned all in his name, he even has you as an insult to injury. You, pretty you, this wedding ring is based on a drawing you made and hoped he liked before commissioning it to be crafted.

“Damn it.” Hating himself at the moment, his head turning slightly at the door is so brutally closed on you with the adding insult of ordering the butler to not open it for you. Worse is there is no knock from you or so much as a peep of distress. Self-punishment? Were you expecting him to be a cruel husband? One who would give you a cold shoulder and an even colder bed? Norton’s hands clinched into fists has he hated the idea of proving such a thing right, would it not be better if he had you fonding over him while your father rolled in his grave? Worse is when you have his children! Your father’s name will die with him and the Campbell name will takeover everything all things the bastard made.

You stood there for a while, it is cold out here too, but you waited. Then you sit down at the entrance and look up at the clouds, you pretend each cloud has a story. Childish, maybe, but you lived a sheltered life and your only form of freedom was gazing upon the cloud outside of rooms you often lingered in.

A cold wind blows, the first snowfall starts and you smile wide as you stand up with your hands open to catch the snowflakes.

The door opened, the light limited by the tall body blocking it, “Get inside.” When you heard him, you jumped a bit. He hates that, which makes him feel bad even though he clings to his hatred. It was easy when he just saw your father; when he was digging through dirt. Now he finds himself both given power and control willingly by the silver spoon-fed child of that asshole.

“Thank you!” Polite. He wants to make you cry. “Tsk.” Ignoring how you are shivering yet not moving after from the door once inside. “Well! Go get warmed up.” He moves to the side letting you pass him, he can smell the perfume you wore today and see the snowflakes that got caught in your hair. So beautiful and his.

“Okay.” You leave to go upstairs.

The butler is giving him a nasty look.

Norton avoids you the rest of the day until dinner is served in the dining area. A dining area, the type he had seen only once when he was looking through a window of a house when he was cold and alone a New Year’s Day. A party as everyone celebrated… He wished he threw that brick at that damn window to this day.

As the former miner sits here with you at the opposite end of the fairly wide table, the dinner is prepared in a lovely display. It looks gluttonous how much there is for just the two of you— He doesn't know where to start so he looks to you only to see you are served something different.

The servants give you soup after seeing you more than once sniffling and coughing. Oh… He glances away silently cursing himself knowing what he did likely has gotten sick.

“(Name),” He cannot help the pain in his chest when you gaze upon him like he is the most beloved creature you have ever seen. “...” Looking away embarrassed.

“I understand.” You say.

“No, you don’t.” He says with a bitter laugh, “Your pops made sure you would not have to understand.”

This is true, your father kept you safe, clothed, fed, and loved; though his love could be overbearing and controlling. Your life was schooled, and mapped out, and you had no say in the changes and decisions made. It was only after his death did you make your first choice. In the hospital you found Norton there covered in bandages and casks, there you told him your proposal.

“Do you like it?” Watching him at first take cautious bites then becoming ravenous. Grabbing the plates, and though he did his best to have table manners, he ate a grand portion of the food made.

He is about to speak but stops himself the second he does, Norton nods his head as swallows the food in his mouth, “Not bad.”

You chuckle at his words.

#idv #idv x you #idv reader insert #idv x reader #idv prospector #reader insert #ao3 fanfic #norton campbell #norton campbell x reader #norton campbell x you #identity v x you #identity v x reader #idv norton

165 notes · View notes