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messyyythoughts · 2 months

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princess from afar.

gladiator 2 marcus acacius x female!princess reader.

author’s note: this idea came to me like a holy vision after watching like 100 gladiator 2 trailer edits of Pedro Pascal. god save us all when that movie is finally out. it will be feral girl hours!!! also MAYBE SPOILERS??? idk be careful x

small disclaimer: so... I haven’t had the pleasure of watching the first Gladiator movie, my apologies beforehand if anything is inaccurate lore-wise! I tried to go off what I knew of Ancient Rome and take inspiration from the movie and the sequel coming out later this year. I hope you all enjoy!

summary: you are a princess from far away visiting Rome under its new Emperors. the Roman General catches your eye, and you catch his.

warnings: gladiator-like violence.

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Your visit to Rome under its new twin Emperors has been eventful.

Your father and brothers were too occupied in your homelands to go themselves, leaving you as the sole candidate. Your father assured you plenty of times prior to departure that you were a perfect choice. Well-versed in languages and histories, practised in the arts and skills of diplomacy. You already had everything you needed to make it a successful visit, and establish a favourable relationship with Rome. Initially you had been nervous, understandably, your country’s standing with the most powerful empire on the planet came down to this visit, it weighed on your shoulders. But, upon arrival, the entire court of Rome, its government and its Emperors were inexplicably fascinated with you. Whether it was your beauty, which they had never witnessed before, or your personality or talents you could not say. Upon realising the hold you had over your hosts, you played everything to your advantage.

Dinner parties, festivals, meetings, trips into the city, you did it all with a smile and impeccable appearance. You had been accompanied by some of your loyal ladies, of course, who worked their magic each and every morning to ensure a flawless appearance greeted the court of Rome. You were mastering the art of diplomacy and playing your part, it was perfect. Then came the Colosseum. You were personally invited by one of the twin Emperors, Geta, to sit by his side and watch battles of all manner take place. Intrigued, as you did not have such a thing back home, you agreed. At first, you were shocked by the barbarity of it all, but upon seeing the joy it brought the crowds of spectators and the purpose it gave the fighters… you understood that it was another moving part of Rome and her empire. So, you applauded and followed the Emperor’s lead, which he loved. He was constantly seeking your company and favour, you felt yourself walking a dangerous line of a marriage proposal should you entice him too much. Such a thing would delight your father, but you weren’t so keen on your safety if you ever married the Emperor. There was just something about these types of men that made you keep your guard up.

After a few of these battles in the Colosseum, you grew to understand the addictiveness of watching and betting and waiting to see who came out on top. Some days wild beasts were released, other days it was man against fellow man. You saw enough blood and grime and hurt to last you a lifetime, but smiled through all of it when the Emperor glanced at you, grinning wildly. You had grown used to the intricacies of the glorious gladiator battles, and attended even when Geta had not personally sought you out to extend the invitation, as he now simply expected your presence at his side. It was on one of the Colosseum days that your visit would become even more intriguing.

You arrived that day fresh-faced, hair immaturely arranged, dress clean and jewellery gleaming in the sun. You had bathed in rose petals the night before and the smell danced around you as you greeted the Emperor and took your seat next to him. He kissed your hand, making eye contact with you before turning his attention to the Colosseum. The crowds were filling their seats, rows and rows of them all packed in trying to get a favourable view of the promised entrainment. A set of heavy footsteps behind made you turn your head, and you saw a man in white and gold, a sword at his hip, enter the Emperor’s box. You stood, a feeling deep down telling you that this man was important, as he approached. You had not noticed the spare seat next to the Emperor today, you should’ve known someone else was coming. The wide-shouldered, bronze-skinned man could’ve easily been mistaken for one of Rome’s Gods, you thought, watching him greet the Emperor. Then, the Emperor gestured to you.

“The beautiful Princess from afar, General Acacius. Isn’t she a sight to behold?” The Emperor’s eyes roved up and down your dress, and you feigned embarrassment. The General took your hand and kissed it, bowing respectfully as he did.

“Princess, forgive me. I was not informed of royalty accompanying the Emperor today. Do you mind if I join you both today for the entertainment?” You smiled prettily, eyes on his.

“Please, General, I am but a guest, you are Rome’s commander. Be welcome.” He nodded, taking his seat on the other side of Emperor Geta after you had sat yourself. Your hand was tingling with excitement from where he’d held and kissed it. For such a large, muscled man, he had a gentle touch. And he was so well dressed, rivalling yourself in his white and gold. He had golden leaves woven into his hair, brunette but speckled with grey. His beard was neat, trimmed. Your eyes lingered on his nose, a masterpiece carved by the Roman Gods themselves, surely. Your breath caught in your chest and you remembered yourself, fixing your attention on the Colosseum before you.

Though you tried to not give the handsome General too much attention, you felt his eyes lingering on you all the same.

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The fights were over, the crowds appeased, the sand of the Colosseum soaked with patches of blood and a few bodies. Geta had grown bored of the day and declared a feast to be held in the evening, all should attend. He swept away, guards following, and left you in the box bowing at his exit. The General’s warm eyes met yours when Geta was gone and he half-smiled.

“I suppose you shall be in attendance tonight, Princess from afar?” He asked, one hand on his sword, the other resting atop it.

“Of course, General. Will I see you there? You must be a busy man.” You replied, walking out of the box, holding your skirts up to take the steps.

“I will make my best efforts to attend, your Grace.” He bowed as you left, watching you go. He couldn’t fathom your existence, such beauty all in one person, such grace and softness. How could any man send you this far away on your lonesome? He gripped his sword hilt before relaxing and following you up the steps.

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You took to napping that late afternoon, then gossiped away with your ladies. They had just finished embroidering a gown that your father had sent along as a gift, and insisted that you wear it to please the Emperor tonight. They knew all of the goings on within the Emperor's palace, and for that you were thankful. They took out your hair, and agreed that a looser style would suit the intimacy of the evening feast. Precious gemstones were pinned into your hair, a reminder of your status as a Princess. The gown was arranged and fastened, you wore light slippers on your feet. Once the ladies had decided on appropriate jewellery and makeup, they finished by spritzing you with fresh rose water and then escorted you to the feast themselves. They, sadly, would not be joining you but would instead be waiting for you upon your return. You thanked them for their efforts, and they waved you into the dining hall, where the court was drinking and conversing in the candlelight as the feast was brought out.

Emperor Geta spotted you immediately. You obliged him and joined him in conversation with many different nobles and members of the court, though your Italian was good, sometimes you found some words did not quite translate in your head. You nodded instead and glanced at Geta with a radiant smile and a polite laugh if appropriate. You excused yourself for food and a wine refresh, glad for a moment alone where your brain could rest from translating entire sentences. Your smile dropped for just a moment and you wandered out to a balcony for real fresh air. Elbows leaning on the immaculate stone, you sipped your wine, staring out at the night sky and wondering if your family were awake or asleep back home. Were they thinking of you? You were thinking of them, always. When would it be time to go home? You put your goblet down and sighed, realising that you had put off these homesick thoughts by throwing yourself into life here in Rome.

“Princess,” You straightened up at the sound of someone’s voice approaching from the dining hall, then smiled in slight embarrassment when you saw the General carefully making his way out onto the balcony. “Peace and quiet at last.” He smiled, taking a place next to you on the balcony. He held no wine and carried no sword this time. He had changed into less golden attire, but it still made him look like a God disguised as a human.

“General Acacius, a pleasure to see you tonight.” You curtseyed and he bowed deeply, then took your hand and kissed the back lightly. His brown eyes caught you watching him with wonder on your face. “You are well versed in the ways of nobility and court, I am pleasantly surprised.” You said, trying to fill the air between you both. There was something about how he watched you so calmly, coolly, it set your insides alight.

“When you find yourself surrounded by certain types, you adapt.” He replied, leaning on the balcony with one arm, facing you.

“Not so different from a battlefield, I suppose?” You sipped your wine, eyes meeting his. He shook his head.

“Life is a battlefield, Princess, for everyone. Do you not find all of this a constant battle?” He glanced at the rowdy dining hall. You turned and made sure Geta wasn’t staring daggers at you, but he was nowhere to be seen. The crowd had grown somehow, and the feast was almost gone. You considered it all for a moment, before answering.

“I do see how one could view it as a battlefield, but I would not see myself as a warrior.” The General’s eyes widened, he grinned.

“I see you as a warrior, Princess, a valuable warrior. Do not diminish yourself, you may not be wielding a sword above your head, but your mind is just as sharp. I have heard stories of your visit so far, they love you. I fear you will never leave.” Though he meant it as humour, the thought of never leaving made you feel sick.

“Do you think I will ever go home?” You asked, suddenly desperate to hear someone say it. He searched your face, standing tall.

“Of course. You have a family awaiting your return, do you not?” The General’s hands folded before him. You nodded. “Who awaits you in your faraway land, Princess?” He asked, softly. You smiled at the stars.

“My father and brothers, General. You would enjoy them, if they ever visit.” The General stepped closer, admiring your little smile as you spoke of your family. His big hands took your wine from you and set it down. “He won’t keep me here will he?” You asked in a whisper, almost too scared to say it aloud. General Acacius studied your features for a heartbeat, then another. He could see the sadness hidden deep in your eyes, something many had never noticed in your time here. He saw the falter of your smile at the corner of your lips, even if for a moment. He had only met you hours before, but he found himself growing fond of you, the idea of you staying, but he knew it would only deepen your sadness.

“No, he is obsessive at times, but he will let you go. Your father would cross the seas for you, would he not, if you did not return?” You nodded and a little tear escaped your tired eyes. You wiped at it quickly, taking your wine from the General with a smile. You finished it and sighed.

“I think I shall retire for the evening, we are due back in the Colosseum tomorrow, are we not?” He stepped back, giving you space, and bowed. You curtseyed back, and he watched you reenter the dining hall. You slipped through the high energy crowd, making small apologies and nodding politely when they noticed you. Acacius wished he had told you to call him Marcus, he would tell you tomorrow, at the Colosseum.

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You took the long way back to your rooms, meandering around corners and admiring the architecture. You had so much to tell your father and brothers when you got back, you were hoping you remembered it all. Maybe writing it down somewhere would help empty your mind of all these thoughts of home? You saw your room at last, and slipped off your satin sippers. Picking them up, you heard a scuffle down the hallway. It was all darkness beyond your door, shadows seemed to move up there… No, it was the wine talking. You slowly stood, shoes in hand, hand to your head. Maybe forgoing wine in the future would be wise. You lay one hand on the door to open it, but felt the floor go out from under you, your weight was flung over and you were resting on someone’s shoulder. They started to run away from your door, so you screamed. You dropped your slippers as your kidnapper turned a corner, you heard your door open and your ladies' voices.

“Help me!” You called out again, before pairs of light, fast footsteps began following your screams. You struggled to free yourself from the grip of the person carrying you, they were turning corners and taking passageways you had never seen before. You kept screaming, but your ladies couldn’t catch up. They lost you, calling out your name and crying. You were thrown from the shoulder of your kidnapper to the floor, it was dark and dim down here in the bowels of the Emperor’s palace, the night air was cool. You felt your elbows gaze against tiles. Your kidnapper bent down, forcing a rag over your face, you struggled, nails digging into their wrist but with one inhale you lost all control of yourself and went dark.

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Sunlight streaming in on your face woke you up. It was bright, hot, you felt dry and sick. Pushing yourself up, you saw that you were chained in a cell, and could hear crowds roaring outside. Your head rolled, but finally steadied itself against the stone wall behind you. Your eyes were adjusting to daylight, you felt awful. You had just begun to recall the events of the night before when the sound of your cell unlocking and the appearance of a gladiator caught your attention.

“Good afternoon Princess. Ready for your grand entrance?” He smirked, hauling you up by your shoulder and forcing you to walk out of the cell. He steered you through small passageways, dimly lit except for stray rays of sunlight, you passed other cells with men chained up in corners. Your heart dropped, you were underneath the Colosseum. Was this the Emperor’s doing? Had he ordered you kidnapped for leaving the feast early without his permission? Had the General feigned friendliness only to arrange your kidnapping last night? You came to a room where all light was blocked by a gate, weapons were carelessly discarded, armour too. “Drink this, we can’t have you giving a bad performance for your Emperor.” Water was tipped down your throat, it spilt over your lips and down your neck, onto your dress.

“Did he order this?” You demanded, finding your voice. The gladiator’s eyes were dark, evil. He looked you up and down before speaking.

“No, it’s our little surprise to him, so put on a good show for us, Princess.” He approached the gate and banged with his fist three times, you heard the sound of hinges creaking, and sunlight filled the room. The gladiator hauled you up the slope and out into the very Colosseum you had been presiding over yesterday. The crowds were cheering wildly, unaware of who had just entered their arena. The gate slammed shut behind you, and you turned around, banging on it with chained fists.

“I have no quarrel with yourselves, or the Emperor, let me out of here at once!” You shouted, back to the gate. No voice came from the other side, your heart sank again. Hands chained and head on a swivel, you ran out to the centre of the Colosseum, hoping, praying that the Emperor would recognise you and order you saved.

You saw Geta stand, leaning over the Emperor’s box, then he started shouting. Movement in his box gave you a glimmer of hope that someone was coming to get you out of here alive. But then, the gates behind you opened again, and a stream of armoured men ran out, banging their armour and showing off their weapons. The crowd went berserk. You fell to your knees, realising your fate, and kept your eyes trained on the Emperor’s box. You thought of your father’s face when he was told the news by a prim and powdered envoy from Rome that his daughter had been slaughtered in the Colosseum. You prayed for good lives for your brothers, that they raise strong families that look after your homeland. The tears had started and you couldn’t stop them. You were hauled from your knees, your dress ripping and forced to stand.

“The Princess from afar will die for your entertainment today!” One of the gladiators yelled, displaying you to the crowds. Their cheers died down, and a ripple of confusion passed through them. You were released, and encircled by a half a dozen armoured gladiators with bloodthirsty expressions on their grimy, unshaven faces.

“You gain nothing from my murder, gladiator.” You spat, the anger beginning to take over. They laughed and brandished weapons of all manner. Swords, nets, daggers, tridents. “How can any of you stand there and murder a defenceless, chained woman, in full armour with sharp weapons in your hands? Have you no honour, no bravery? You fear a woman so greatly she must be killed in chains and unarmed? Cowards, all of you, a disgrace to your brothers!” You yelled, hoping that the words would buy you time. A few of the gladiators seemed uneasy as you spoke. Then, one strode forward, grabbed your chains and used his sword to shatter the link. Still cuffed, but now free to move your hands, he backed away, eyes on yours. “There is one brave enough to approach amongst you, at least.” You shook your hands and let the chains fall to your bare feet, burning in the sand.

A beat of hesitation from the others passed, before one gave in and ran at you, roaring. He held a long sword above his head, clad in armour, taller and broader than you. All you could see was one of your brothers charging at you with their wood practice swords as children, pretending to spear you rather than save you. You stood there, ready to greet death without the satisfaction of screaming or wailing, but at the very last moment you threw yourself aside and he missed. The crowd went up in a frenzy. His sword struck the sand and he looked over his shoulder at you, eyes tearing into yours.

Maybe you had decided not to die here.

He ran again, and you did the same, but you knew these gladiators were wise in strategy and learned their opponents' ways fast. He started swinging his sword at you, giving you little time to move out of the way, he caught your upper arms or dress where you were too slow, drawing thin lines of blood across your skin. Seeing the red made him hungry for more, and he did not relent in his attacks. You used the metal cuffs on your wrists to stop his sword taking your head off of your neck, and he grunted in anger, stepping back. The crowd were in uproar. He twirled his sword in his hand, idly, thinking as he surveyed you. You spotted a shorter sword sheathed on his hip, it would be madness to try and take it, he’d surely kill you at that distance, but you needed a weapon. You stood no chance of making it out alive or surviving until rescue if you had no weapon, you could only dodge and weave for so long, the other gladiators would be fiercer, more brutal, they were building up their stamina minute by minute.

The long sword narrowly grazed your side, you cried out and pressed a hand to your dress. It was torn open, bloodied already. Your hand came away red, your eyes widened. The gladiator’s shoulders were rolling, he wanted to land another hit. You had an idea, a wild one, but it would get you close to the short sword. You had to do it just right, you moved slower, hand pressed to your injured side. He swung again, missing, a second time, missing again. The third time you let him catch you again, and you went to your knees, crying out. The crowd booed, outraged. He grinned, ecstatic at the thought he was the first to face you and have you down on your knees injured, he approached, sword wet with your blood. His hand grabbed your chin, lifting it up to face him, you started up the tears again. “Just make it quick, you brute.” You hissed, panting. He grinned like a devil, lifting up his long sword, but as he went to swing down, you had his short sword unsheathed and drove it upwards to a gap where his chest armour didn’t cover his abdomen.

A wet sound, he stumbled, dropped the sword, took bumbling steps backwards. His face was a picture of shock, he fell dramatically onto his back, blood rushing from his new wound. You picked up the long sword, its weight foreign in your hand, and backed away from the body. The other gladiators all looked at one another in silence. The crowd, however, were anything but. You stood, eyeing up the five remaining gladiators. They watched their brother die and squirm, before looking back to you. Though they did seem reluctant to be the next to face you, they all closed in, weapons gleaming in the sunlight. Then the gate behind you opened, the one under the Emperor’s box. They all paused, and you half-turned to watch.

General Acacius came striding out, armoured up, sword in hand, the expression on his face was one carved from marble by the Roman Gods of war and death. His anger rolled across the Colosseum, his muscles strained as he stalked towards you and the five gladiators. He said nothing as he reached you, he did not spare you a glance, he made a straight-cut line for the remaining gladiators.

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Despite the fact you were openly bleeding from several cuts, your dress was a mess and you were devoid of your sunny smile, General Acacius was focused solely on the gladiators. You watched as the once reluctant men now fired themselves up with the promise of a real fight. But before you could run to the open gates, they encircled you and the General together, forcing you to back away from your escape route. The General surveyed the gladiators with a disgusted expression, and then it all happened at once.

All five gladiators charged, two at you, three at the General. While you had no doubts about the General’s capability to survive, you seriously doubted yours. You had no time to get any words out before one of the two was upon you, bringing a trident down, you raised your long sword with two hands and barely held him off, nearly going down to one knee with the effort. He backed away, the sharp prongs of the trident begging to be buried into flesh. Mouth dry, you watched the two gladiators exchange a look before the one wielding a long sword charged, you met him, not blow for blow but enough to keep him off of you. The General had already downed one of his gladiators and was onto the second and third. The crowd were cheering, chanting, stampeding in their seats. The trident flew past your head, landing in the General’s field of battle. Without hesitation, he picked it up, threw it back and met his attacker swiftly with his sword, never missing a beat. The trident had pinned the gladiator who owned it down, lodged in his arm, he struggled against the prongs. You felt sick.

The long sword came down at you again, you threw yourself out of the way, too tired to meet it with your own sword again. Your arms bled and ached from the weight of this weapon, you did not possess the same muscles as these men. You were not trained in the art of war, fighting other humans, or wielding weapons. Your brothers had tried to train you as children but your father had quickly intervened and warned them that you had no use for such things, as they would always be there to protect you. You wished dearly now that you had continued attending your brothers’ training sessions against your father’s orders. The sword narrowly missed your chest, you were shaking with the effort to breathe and move and fight all at the same time. You weren’t even sure your heart was still beating.

Your sword met his again, he was getting bored, tired of playing nice. You had to meet his blows to protect yourself, as tiring as it was. Your eyes scoured his armour for weak spots, a glimpse of vulnerable flesh… nothing. You took a few quick steps back, gaining distance, and time to think. Then the General downed his third gladiator, and turned to spot you warding off yours. The General advanced, sword slick with blood, but not before the gladiator rushed you and knocked you off your feet. He was atop you, sword poised to go through your chest, but not before you drove yours through his neck. The angle had given you the advantage, just. He rolled off of you, clutching at his neck, gargling on his own blood. He drowned before you, red spilling from his mouth and neck. His hands were covered in his own hot sticky blood, his eyes open as he died. You stood, covered in his blood, and watched as the General finished off the final gladiator who was pinned beneath his own trident like a fish.

You threw your sword aside, disgusted, horrified, on the verge of tears. General Acacius sheathed his own sword and ran to you. Without a word, he had you up in his arms, his nose in your hair.

“Are you hurt, Princess?” He asked, his voice low. You could barely make it out over the crowd’s collective cheering and celebrating.

“A little, General.” You said, clinging to his armour. He held you tight, making for the gate.

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The Roman court and government were in an absolute outrage at your kidnap and torture in the Colosseum. Both of the Emperors ordered the gladiators and slaves brought before them to find the one behind it, but you were too sick to care. Whoever had been behind it had got their way, you were thoroughly shamed and defeated. You had survived, but at what cost?

The General took you straight to the physician. He stayed guarding the room as your wounds were cleaned, packed and dressed. Your beautiful embroidered dress was cut away, to be thrown on the fire. It was soaked in gladiator blood. You watched the General pace the room, hand gripping his sword, jaw set. It took time for the physician to do his work, but he was finally satisfied and allowed you to rest. The General, however, did not leave when the old physician did. He let you settle before speaking to you. You sat yourself up in the bed, thin sheets over your battered body. You had accumulated some nasty bruises from throwing yourself out of harm’s way.

“Princess…” He said softly, kneeling at your bedside. You looked at him with tear-stained eyes and a weak smile. “I will find who did this, they will pay. We will have their heads.” He said this with his head bowed, as if in prayer. You leaned down to him, your fingers lifting his chin. Your eyes met.

“You saved my life, Acacius, that is enough.” His eyes took you in, he thought of you as a star robbed of its starlight. A rose shaken free of its petals.

“Please call me Marcus, Princess.” You breathed deeply for a moment and nodded.

“Marcus, do not let your bloodlust cloud your judgement. I am alive, and I am grateful for that. I will return home when I am well.” His hands took yours, and he traced the back of them for a moment. The words hung in the air, unseen, unheard.

“Will you ever return to Rome?” He asked, holding your fingers out.

“I do not know, when my father hears of this… I could not say if I will be permitted to return one day, Marcus.” Your untidy hair fell in your face, finally freeing itself of its gemstone pins from the night before. Marcus reached up, gingerly placing the hair behind your ear. His touch was featherlight, as if he was scared you would shatter at any moment. He said nothing as he memorised the lines on the palm of your hand, red and sore from the long sword’s handle and weight. You sank further into the bed, watching him, his face. You wanted to paint it and frame it in your bedchambers at home, so you would never forget what he looked like.

He then placed the softest kiss on the back of your hand, then your wrist. Your body lit up like a bonfire, like the moon and stars on a dark night, and he looked up at you.

“If you do not return, will you let me remember you?” He asked, taking in the faded scent of rose from your wrist. It was washed away by sweat and blood and hot water now, but he knew it lingered, lest it be his imagination.

“I would want you to remember me, as I will remember you.” You replied eventually, he appeared relieved at this, and suddenly raised himself up to your bed, inches above you. He paused, eyes flickering to your lips, then back to your eyes, your hair. “Do it, I will not regret it.” You whispered, eyes on his lips. With all of the care in Rome, he gave you your first and last kiss, he touched your hair, the side of your face. When he pulled away, he looked down, eyes avoiding yours. “When I go, will you see me?” You asked, voice tight.

“I would not miss it for the world, Princess from afar.” He quickly kissed your head, your wild hair, before withdrawing from your bed and taking himself out of your room.

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You would see him once more when you departed for home with your ladies. Emperor Geta made a grand show of escorting you to the docks and seeing you board your ship bound for your homeland. It had been such a long time, it felt, since you had seen your father and brothers. Geta was sending you with heaps of gifts and treasures for your family, partly as a show of your efforts, and partly as an apology for your kidnap. When the General approached to say his goodbye, kissing your hand firmly with eyes closed, he slipped you something, which you hid down the front of your dress and didn’t open until the ship was sailing.

In your hands now lay a simple gold chain with the retrieved gemstones from your hairpins dangling from it. You smiled to yourself and slipped the necklace on, closing your eyes and wondering if one day you would return to Rome and see him again.

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#messyyythoughts #female!reader #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #marcus acacius #general acacius #pedro pascal #fanfic #gladiator 2024 #princess!reader #female princess reader #reader x pedro pascal

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arrowhawkart · 25 days

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Alright what's up everyone! If you do not follow my personal blog fair warning: I have become very suddenly obsessed with Dragon Age and have been playing thru the games for the first time ever- so expect the next chunk of art from me to be very Dragon Age-centric

So Anyways here's Cedric Hawke, the fun little guy I made for my DA2 playthrough and became incredibly attached to much faster than I expected.

More incoherent rambles and thoughts on my Hawke under the cut- it's very stream of consciousness under there and also very very long you've been warned

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Just like.... wow.... okay so I've now played through Inquisition and finished Trespasser and I've gotta say DA2 really took the cake for me, like by far my favorite of the 3. (Like please don't get me wrong it absolutely had it's issues I'm not saying it was a perfect game or that all the writing choices were amazing) But I just really enjoyed the smaller more personal scale of the conflicts in DA2, I liked that Hawke was even more Just Some Guy, and like yeah the Warden and the Inquisitor aren't like special chosen ones or anything, but they are both tasked with these gigantic world-saving country-spanning quests, and Hawke? Hawke is just a guy trying to do right by his family. Like he doesn't have any world saving mission. He is just trying to Get By and that really made this game hit home more for me than the other two.

I said I was gonna ramble about my Hawke and I just ended up rambling about DA2 itself... whoops. ANYWAYS- Cedric- My Boy Cedric- I recognize that a purple mage Hawke is the most common route people go and I am by no means unique or original, but this game series is very new to me, personally, and I'm having fun anyways. (From here on out I will be talking about my Custom Hawke and not like, Hawke the player character in general)

And gosh I'm such a sucker for complicated and messy family dynamics, and DA2 does that so well. Like the Hawke family is Fucked Up. Bethany gets killed by that ogre while they're fleeing Lothering when she tries to save their mom from said ogre, and Leandra immediately turns and blames Cedric for Bethany's death- and then later in Act 1, Carver, best baby brother Carver, also throws Bethany's death in his face while they're having their own stupid argument which started because Cedric was trying to cheer Carver up and boy did that fail dramatically.

Like Cedric is witty and charming and sarcastic and kind of an asshole sometimes, and comes of as incredibly over confident and cocksure and that's because he's very much been shoved into the role of 'okay you've gotta take care of everything and if you don't everything bad is Your Fault, and since you're in charge of taking care of everything, everything bad is automatically Your Fault No Matter What Anyways.' So he's gotta playact like he has everything all together and under control, because what the fuck is his family gonna do if he doesn't? And underneath all of that he's an incredibly stressed out guy, who does not feel like he can ever let on that he's stressed and making everything up as he goes and just hoping that things work out well.

And like he tries to do the right thing- by god does this man try. He brings Carver with him on the deep roads mission because he and Carver work well together! Carver wants to go! He loves his little brother, there is no one he would rather have by his side than his little brother! There is no one he trusts more than Carver to have his back! Carver and Cedric are incredibly close, (yes in the game's friendship/rivalry system Carver was locked in at full rivalry but that absolutely does not mean they weren't still very close and also friends). Like Carver is the one person who actually recognizes that the way Leandra projects all of her own issues onto them, but like mostly Cedric, is really shitty! He acknowledges that after apologizing for his part in the argument I mentioned above. And then of course Carver ends up getting the Blight during the deep roads mission, because nothing can every go right for them. Thankfully Cedric brought Anders along, so Carver is able to become a Grey Warden instead of DYING, but he has to leave, and Cedric doesn't even find out whether or not Carver survived his joining for months. And of course Leandra blames Cedric for this, she begged him not to bring Carver along with him, and he did anyways and now she's never going to see her youngest son again and it's all Cedric's fault. And that's how Act 1 ends and I just.... Auaghghghghhhh-

And then we've got Act 2, and like mid-way through Act 2 is probably the high point for Cedric. Things peak for him here and then it's all one big snowball downhill from there. So like, Cedric romanced Fenris, because this man is addicted to difficulty, and of course was going to immediately be infatuated with the guy that makes hating mages half his personality. (I mean it wasn't immediate, it was more of a slow build, mutual-trust, to friendship(and yes once again Fenris was at full rivalry but I stand by what I said about the friendship rivalry system earlier), to lovers thing, especially considering three years pass between Acts 1 and 2) And yeah, Cedric doesn't hide the fact that he's very into Fenris, and Fenris definitely hasn't seemed opposed to this. So after Fenris kills Hadriana and then they have that fun little argument that ends with Fenris pinning Cedric to the wall and kissing him 😳- Cedric is like, riding the high of what was probably the first positive physical affection he's gotten since Carver let for the Grey Wardens three years ago. And then of course the following morning Fenris immediately breaks things off with Cedric, so what Cedric thought was going to be the start to a romantic relationship, just ends up being an ill-fated one night stand. And like! Cedric does not begrudge Fenris this! He completely understands Fenris's reasons, he is not upset with Fenris at all! He is still just completely crushed though. So yeah, things peaked for Cedric for like one very short night and then start speeding downhill. Because not long after that is when his mom is killed by a fucking serial killer. As if things weren't already fucked enough for Cedric, already having lost his twin younger siblings.

Also side note- I love the fact that DA2 is portrayed as Varric telling the story of Hawke's life to Cassandra, and that we know Varric is an unreliable narrator. Because like Leandra's last words to Hawke being that she's so proud of her strong boy- at least with how Cedric's relationship was with Leandra up to this point- felt so so out of character for Leandra, and I love the headcanon that that's Varric giving his bestie some closure narratively that he never actually got in reality. So like that's canon for Cedric. Because that was Leandra's decapitated head frankensteined onto another woman's body- and magicked into a reanimated corpse that absolutely did not seem like it had any conscious thought- like she was already dead before Cedric showed up. There were no final words. There was no nice narratively satisfying ending to that one. And I like it better that way tbh........

We're just gonna like skip over the whole qunari invasion subplot because I am. Not a fan of how that was handled. Writing wise. Like what the fuck was that. Like I have THOUGHTS about it but they're not gonna go on tumblr. Anyways. Moving on.

Champion of Kirkwall! Yay! Meredith knows he's an apostate mage and is just Waiting for any half-decent excuse to either bring him to the circle, make him tranquil, or kill him? Not yay! Cedric is absolutely good friends with Anders, and has been helping with the mage underground every chance he has. People in the city have been whispering about making him of all people Viscount and he has no idea how to feel about that, like he'd rather not, but who else is gonna do it? And who else would do it and actually give a shit about mages and elves and just like lower class people in general? Like this incredibly stressed out guy does not need more added to his plate, he really doesn't. But he's definitely thinking about it. I mean hey! It's not like he's got any family around to take care of at this point right? Why not just take that eldest daughter syndrome thing he's got going on and use it to fix the city?

The one bright spot for him here is that hey, at least he and Fenris get back together. That one's nice. They both deserve something positive and comforting after all the shit they've been through.

And then Meredith is trying to invoke the right of annulment and Anders blows up the fucking Chantry. And Cedric can't even blame him for it. After 6 or 7 years of painstakingly working to try to find peaceful ways to improve the lives of mages and getting blocked at every turn, with the knowledge that Meredith has been getting worse and worse and worse, and has been actively looking for any excuse to invoke the right of annulment and just kill every single mage in Kirkwall? And Grand Cleric Elthina has been absolutely no help, and has absolutely been subtly on Meredith's side the entire time. Like at a certain point, violence really does feel like the only option left. When you've been backed this far into a corner.

So obviously Cedric takes the side of the mages, doesn't kill Anders, is honestly like 'my dude, my buddy, my guy, my best pal(aside from Varric, and my boyfriend Fenris) why didn't you tell me? I would've helped you on purpose.' He's elated when Carver shows up during that final push to the Gallows, like the whole situation is absolutely shit, and it'd definitely be better if his beloved brother was no where near danger, but he's a Grey Warden now so that's not even an option anyways. So it's just nice to have him around even during such an intensely stressful moment. Honestly everything is so unbelievably fucked at this point that Cedric isn't even stressed anymore. Like things literally cannot get worse. He's kind of riding the high of things not being able to get worse. Or maybe that's just adrenaline. Who knows. Aveline and Sebastian both leave, Cedric is unbothered. Doesn't even try to convince Aveline to side with him later either, like he's never really gotten along with her, and he did not like how she treated Carver. Fenris and everyone else stick around, and that's what matters to Cedric, like all the people he was actually close friends with stick with him in this moment (Fenris, Varric, Isabella, Merrill, Anders, & Carver)

And then yeah, they save the mages, defeat Meredith, leave Kirkwall with the renegade mages. Everyone goes their separate ways due to one reason or another, except Fenris. At least Cedric does get to keep one positive close relationship around.

#artists on tumblr #dragon age #dragon age 2 #custom hawke #mage hawke #purple hawke #purple mage hawke #mage sympathizer #da2 #my ocs #my pcs #Cedric Hawke #oc: cedric hawke #also like fair warning #underneath the readmore is so very long #and likely completely incomprehensible if you do not have background knowledge of the game and dragon age lore

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thefangirlfever · 7 months

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In this lifetime (a Miguel O'hara fanfiction)

Summary : When Miguel had jumped into an other dimension to replace his variant, he had not expected life to be so different…

Tags : fluff, romance, F/M, domestic fluff, kind of slow burn, suggestiveness (I tried to keep it PG-13), angst, mention of death, Miguel being a girl dad, soft Miguel O’hara, idiots in love, he fell first and hard, this is not a self-insert but it kinda is, maybe Miguel os a little OOC (he is just silly sometimes)

Notes : I sacrificed sleeping for this. The idea was too fresh in my mind and I didn’t want to let it go to waste. I’ve been inspired by all these amazing artists who have made horror concept arts about Miguel infiltrating this other dimension and those wondering about the possibility of Miguel’s partner in this dimension. I hope you enjoy my take on this.

English is not my first langage and I wrote this in the middle of the night. Therefore, I apologize in advance for my crimes against the English language.

Word count: 14 285

===============================================

Miguel looked at the shopping list with a highly focused look, way too focused for something as trivial as this but he was on a mission. And it may have been one of the most difficult he ever had to face : being a functioning father. Since he jumped into this new universe after the death of his variant and decided to settle in for the good of his daughter -or rather his variant’s daughter but Miguel tried not to think too much about this- he only had one thing in mind. Making this work.

Not a lot of things had worked in his past life, and it all started back in his childhood. That’s why he had made the promise to himself that he would not make the same mistake with Gabriella. He was no longer Miguel, the messy vigilante, tortured scientist who broke hearts here and there. No, he was a respectable father and this new attitude of him had to shine every time. He would just not allow himself to make any mistake. Even in the way he would follow a grocery list.

Miguel was a new man and that meant no more tantrums, no more stress and just an overflowing sense of calm and control. He had everything under control. He could easily balance the vigilante life with the domestic lifestyle. He would not be the first one doing this. Weren’t most mothers already doing the same ?

But it seemed that the world had already decided to test out his new resolutions. Just when he had stepped in front of his apartment door and passed the badge that allowed him to enter, the digital reader made a red light and a robotic voice said:

“Try again”.

Usually the calm of the robotic voice would have pushed him over, only making his frustration grow even more. But not now. He was a new man. He was ‘cool dad Miguel’ who never throws a tantrum, even when he is tired, locked out of his apartment with his arms filled with groceries on a hot Summer day. He took a deep breath and swiped his badge another time. Must be a small mistake.

“Try again.”

The echo of the mechanical voice definitely got on his nerves.

When he arrived in this dimension, he was amazed and relieved to see that it was not so different from his own. Most of the technologies, slang and even clothes were alike. He had no problem blending in. The only difference was that he couldn’t talk freely to Layla since his variant never had an AI assistant. He didn’t want people to ask questions that could lead them to suspect that he was not who he pretended to be.

Then why was this stupid machine not working?

An other deep breath, an other pass of the badge.

“Try again.”

Miguel groaned in annoyance. He was close to dump the bags on the ground and force the door at this point. He was already late on his schedule at this point of the day; Gabriela would be back from school any minute now and he still had to make dinner… Why wasn’t this working?

“Shock!”, he cursed under his breath before pressing the badge with more strength, trying his best to not let any grocery items fall from the bags. He knew that applying the badge like this would do nothing, since he already had that system in his own dimension. What he also knew was that after three trials, the box would send an alarm signal to the owner of the house.

He was about to curse an other less polite word when the door suddenly opened and to his surprise, the person in front of him was no one he knew. It was not Gabriela. It was a woman, a grown woman. She looked sleepy. Sleepy and pissed off.

Miguel eyed up and down the woman, from her bare feet and oversize shirt to the mess of her hair above a very tired face. He immediately recognized this look for he often had the same one. This was the look of someone who barely managed to sleep because of work, an underlying pressure and an unhealthy stress level. His sympathy went to the woman standing in front of him. Confusion ran through Miguel’s expression, along something else, something like curiosity. His eyes didn’t leave the silhouette of the woman in front of him and they did linger a bit too long on her bare legs to not look rude. A rush of heat ran through his cheeks, and he was pretty sure the summery weather had nothing to do with it, but those slender legs were more likely the cause of it.

He had to internally taunt himself: “Cool dad Miguel wouldn’t pry upon the legs of one of his neighbors this way.” No matter if said legs looked absolutely dashing with their tan, toned and almost endless. Just when his mind was starting to touch upon riskier territory, he lifted his eyes up and all trace of admiration disappeared. Not that the woman’s face was not the type he would usually admire, quite the opposite, but her gaze made it clear that any word from him would put him in great danger of getting his butt kicked.

“You think this is funny?”, the woman asked in a voice that left no room for any hesitation.

She had just spent one of the worst nights of her life, endlessly working under the worst conditions possible and just when she thought she could get some rest and take a nap, she had been woken up by the alarm signal coming from her door. The least person she was expecting to find on the other side of the door was her neighbor, Miguel O’hara. So far the single father had struck her more as the quiet type and not the type who would wake you up from a peaceful nap unannounced.

Right now the guy seemed like he wanted to disappear into the ground. His larger silhouette almost seemed crushed under the weight of her dark gaze and he only stuttered:

“I..I’m sorry...who...what are you doing here?”

At this point, she was suspecting that either the Sun had hit him too hard on his way here or that he was dumb, or maybe playing dumb. She replied with a sarcastic snicker:

“Oh, you mean, what am I doing here in my own apartment?”

Miguel’s brows rose in confusion, although the small grin of the woman only increased the warmth in his cheeks. He hoped she would put it onto the account of the really hot weather.

“Your apartment? There must be a misunderstanding, miss. This is my apartment…” His voice sounded less confident as he kept talking and the woman’s sarcastic grin only widened.

She pointed at the door at the end of the floor, the one facing a large window and replied:

“This is your apartment. Now, if you will excuse me, mister O’hara, I’ve had quite the rough night and I would like to rest now!”

“Wait...I’m so…” before Miguel could even finish his sentence, the door slammed shut in his face. A pack of cookies he had just bought fell to the ground and he couldn’t feel more stupid than in this moment. He didn’t need a mirror to know that he was red to the root of his hair, just like when he was a kid caught red-handed.

He had only just settled in this dimension and he still needed time to adjust. It was not enough that this world looked like his, because it was not his world. And that thought always made him feel sick in his stomach. Unlike his variant, he didn’t know every little detail about Gabriella or their apartment. So, the first night he didn’t find the cabinet with the plates, nor the one with the glasses. He didn’t know Gabriella’s schedule without looking at the planning on the fridge while his variant knew it by heart. He didn’t know what Gabriella’s favorite dish was, nor did he recognize her friend’s names when she mentioned them in a conversation. In these moments, he felt like an intruder and that thought always made him feel nauseous. He had already thought about leaving and returning back to his universe but… he couldn’t leave Gabriella alone. He knew what it felt like to grow up without the care of a father or to be betrayed by him. And he had sworn that he would be better than this.

But he was off to a rough start. Hell, he didn’t even find the door of his apartment. He didn’t even remember meeting his floor neighbor, which was a shame. The woman seemed to know him since she called him by his name but he had no idea of what hers was. Did his variant and her go along well? Now that he thought about it, Miguel has never been the friendly type. He didn’t know the names of his own neighbor in his original dimension. Maybe it was time to change this, and the fact that the said neighbor looked very charming had nothing to do with this decision…

“Dad? What are you doing here?”

Miguel turned around and noticed Gabriela on the apartment floor, holding her pink backpack on her shoulders. The sight almost made all the air in his lungs disappear, just like every single time. He couldn’t believe that she was there, all real and looking just like him. Maybe it could have seemed uncanny to see a mini-him, but every time he saw her dark brown eyes, her freckles and the long strands of chestnut hair, he was just in awe. She may not be his daughter, in the sense that she was not made out of his own flesh, but they looked too much alike for him to care. He was determined to take care of her as if she was his own daughter. Affection swelled in his heart and he replied with a light-hearted tone:

“Mija! You’re home early.”

He gestured in a way to open his arms so she could run to him and hug him, just like they did every day, but he only managed to make more groceries spill from the bags. And yet, he couldn’t care less. It was like, as soon as Gabriella was around, the moody Miguel just disappeared for a new version of him, one that seemed unable to get angry.

“Yes, Sandy’s mom got me home after the …” Gabriella replied while helping him gather the fallen groceries.

Sandy. He knew that name. He could even picture this girl. He was not doing too bad; he was a quick learner. Miguel was pretty sure that in less than a month, he would know everything about this world. His world.

Gabriella looked at the door her father was standing in front of and asked: “Did you talk with the new neighbor?” Miguel could feel the back of his neck burning under the heat of the shame he was feeling. Talking? Kinda. If you call being yelled at by a pretty woman talking, he wouldn’t mind talking a bit more often with her.

“It’s nothing, Gabi.” He would never admit that he had mistaken their apartment’s doors.

“You know she doesn’t like when people come talk to her.”

Oh really? Miguel grinned and replied:

“Yeah, I noticed.”

The little girl grabbed the box of cookies and a wide smile immediately blossomed on her face, making her nose scrunch up and Miguel’s heart melt.

“Those are the ones you wanted, right?”

“Yes, they’re my favorites! Thanks, dad.”

A wave of pride washed over Miguel as his daughter hugged his waist. He was still learning but he was definitely a quick learner.

***************

It’s been almost a week since the accident with his neighbor. Miguel hadn’t had the opportunity to see her again and he found himself looking at the closed door of her apartment every time he passed by. From what Gabriela had told him, she was the grumpy type, barely leaving her flat or speaking to anyone in the building. She moved in a few weeks ago, so it was not surprising that she was still shy. However, in her case shyness and grumpiness were two sides of the same coin.

This afternoon, Miguel had made extra time on his schedule to pick up Gabriela from school. The two had made a short stop at an ice cream shop on their way back home and were now waiting for the elevator while Gabriela’s incessant bubbling entertained him.

If someone had told Miguel that one day he would have the time for such mundane things and enjoy them, he would have not believed it. He never took the time for anything, not even having a decent meal sometimes. So, getting ice cream was not even an option. Hell, the moment he tasted that ice cream, he swore that his taste buds had never tasted anything this good in a long time. Was he really living such a dull life that he almost forgot the taste of ice cream?

Just when the doors of the elevator were about to close, he spotted someone walking in its direction and so he held the door for the newcomer. As soon as he recognized the silhouette, he felt a small tinge of both excitement and apprehension in his heart.

His neighbor thanked him with a sign of her head for holding the door and got into the small cabin without saying a word. She was standing in front of him and once again, he didn’t resist the temptation to eye her up and down. Her hair was tied in the back and she had her earphones on -clearly she was not the most talkative person in this building and she made it quite clear -, everything indicated that she must be coming back from some workout session. Her athleisure clothes highlighted even more the shapeliness of her legs and how long they were. This time, his gaze traveled a bit higher and he noticed her wide hips as well as the patch of bare skin above the hem of her yoga pants.

He must have been quite a desperate case if something as simple as the sight of some lower back and a hint of a belly got him all riled-up, he thought. But it turned out that ice creams were not the only thing Miguel had to deny himself with his busy lifestyle. He doesn’t even remember the last time he flirted with anyone; not that he didn’t get the occasion but he had never been prone to flirting with his colleagues and well, he never saw anyone outside of his colleagues. Needless to say that his last romantic experiences didn’t end well either. He had all the reasons in the world to keep it to himself.

But, does this mean that he couldn’t admire a beautiful woman or even try to engage in conversation with her? Absolutely not.

He was a new man, he was ‘cool dad Miguel’ and this new persona of his could definitely be a little friendlier toward his neighbor, right? There was nothing strange about engaging in a conversation with your friendly neighborhood. Miguel even began to think that he could become the type of guy who can easily chat about the weather. Everything was possible in this new life.

“Mhh, excuse me, miss?”

With her earbuds on, she didn’t hear him at first. It’s only when he cleared his throat that she turned around. Her lips were pursed in what could be either a grimace of disdain or annoyance and she looked absolutely done with everything and everyone.

For some reason, this only made Miguel more of a flustered mess.

“Hum...Hi...I wanted to apologize for the next day…”

Why did he have to stutter? He never stuttered. The piercing gaze of the woman didn’t help his stuttering. It seemed like his words had brought no emotion to her face and he even wondered if she remembered that day. Even Gabriella was staring at him as if he was some madman. Finally, the woman replied:

“It’s okay.” And without saying anything else, she turned back, clearly ending the conversation. Miguel didn’t know exactly what he was waiting for but it was not that. Was his pride hurt that a pretty woman didn’t seem to recognize him? Maybe. Was he a bit annoyed at her attitude? Maybe. Was he finding this attitude really attractive? Definitely.

He didn’t have any time to think about what was pulling him closer to this woman since Gabriella quickly resumed her ranting. Miguel was listening to her without saying a word, a fond smile on his lips as he wondered over her amazement of the whole world. At least, until Gabriella mentioned how impatient she was to do his nails again. That was one of the other tings that surprised him the most about himself -how easily Gabriella got him to do anything. She just needed to do her puppy eyes and he would agree on absolutely anything. Again, if someone had told him he was a girl dad, he would not have believed it. But here he was, playing dolls with his daughter or letting her paint his nails. He was very confident in his masculinity, so these things usually didn’t bother him. At least he thought so. For some reason, he was not too fond of the idea of a pretty woman hearing about his next nail appointment.

It looked like the woman didn’t hear Gabriella’s comment and for some reason, he felt relieved. He gave his daughter a soft smile and nodded his head.

“I want to try the one with the glitters! I’m sure it will look good on you!” Miguel internally winced in pain. It seemed like each sentence Gabriella uttered was like a direct kick into his ego but he knew better and simply replied:

“I’m sure it will, mija.”

“There are glitters in it!” Miguel will never understand the enthusiasm about glitters. He had stopped counting the number of times he found glitters on the pillows of the couch. These things should be banned.

A small chuckle echoed through the elevator. It was definitely not him and it was not his daughter either, so it could only be… Both Gabriela and him look at each other with a look of surprise until the woman slowly turned her head to look at them. And to Miguel’s surprise – and joy – a smug smile had crossed her lips, making one of her dimples pop out a little more. That was one dangerous smile and he understood why she wouldn’t smile too often. Not everyone deserved to see such perfection on a daily basis.

He gathered all his courage -who would have thought the moment you need to be the bravest is not in front of an army of zombies or a super villain but while facing the mocking smile of an attractive woman? - and tried to talk. But the words got stuck in his throat and before he could say anything, the doors opened and she left them alone in the elevator.

Miguel stayed frozen for a few seconds until Gabriela pulled on his hands and finally got him back to their apartment. He couldn’t resist giving one last look toward the door of the mysterious woman.

********

Miguel would only catch a glimpse of the woman during the next few days and he never had the chance to initiate the conversation, not that he knew what he would say. If it was like the last time, he would probably just end up stuttering a bunch of nonsense while getting lost in those deep brown eyes of hers like a man doomed to die in quicksands.

So, when he saw her entering the elevator that Tuesday afternoon, he made himself the promise to not speak a word and keeping it low. He didn’t need to embarrass himself more than he already did, twice. The woman seemed to recognize him as she nodded her head in his direction, which both scared him and made him feel butterflies in his stomach. He could notice more details about her as she stood by his side in the elevators. She had let her hair loose today and they bounced around her face in thick curls; glass frames in turtle-shell sat on top of her crooked nose and she was wearing one of these power suits with large shoulders. The color highlighted the glow of her skin and he couldn’t help but notice the subtle fragrance of her perfume.

But overall, he was not staring and he was definitely chill. Very chill. And laid-back. Not at all wondering what it would feel like to smell this scent directly from her skin.

To his surprise, he noticed her sneaking a quick glance in his direction from time to time. He subconsciously straightened up his posture –he had stopped counting the number of times he had been called out for his terrible back posture – and puffed out his chest. He would probably smack himself in the back of his head later for acting like some peacock. But it seemed like her eyes were more drawn towards his hands, especially the glittered pink nail polish on them. A smile curled up her lips, and this time it didn’t seem as mocking as it was the last time. Just when he was about to break the heavy silence between them, she said in a small voice- it was almost a whisper and he thought he had misheard her for a few seconds:

“She was right; it looks good on you.”

The doors opened with a small ‘ding’ and Miguel found himself dumbfounded once again, his jaw hanging low as he whispered in a hushed voice “Thank you”.

******

Miguel was heading toward his apartment building, more than eager to throw himself on the couch, and probably just dive into an endless slumber after that long day at work. Just when he entered the building, he noticed two things. First of all, there was a small sign on the elevator indicating that it was broken. And reading this sign, standing there, her arms overflowing with grocery bags stood his cute neighbor. As he stepped closer, he could hear her groan in annoyance. He didn’t need to think much before addressing her in a faint voice:

“Can I help you?”

Not only did he manage to talk to her but he also didn’t stutter. So, that was a win. The woman turned around and maybe it was his delusion speaking, but her smile seemed even more genuine when she saw him. Or maybe she was just happy that someone would help her out…

“Thanks but I’m okay.”, she politely declined his offer even though she was clearly not okay. Miguel didn’t dare saying anything and he didn’t need to. As soon as she made a step, she almost dropped one of her grocery bags down the floor. Thanks to his superhuman reflexes, Miguel was quick to catch it and she couldn’t deny that she in fact needed his help. Miguel sensed that it costed her to admit this and truly speaking, this was something he could understand and respect; being himself unable to ask for help even if his life depended on it.

The two of them climbed the stairs in silence and Miguel couldn’t resist peaking at the inside of the bags he was carrying. He had no idea on how this woman was living since she was always so secretive and it seemed like no one could get a glimpse of her life behind this closed door. In one of the bags he could spot a box of eggs, frozen pizza rolls and among other snacks one green vegetable. This made him laugh quietly as his own groceries were not so different when he used to live alone, before Gabriella. Not that he minded adding more vegetables to his own diet now. He also noticed a few cans of tuna in the other bag and multiple period pads. His cheeks instantly flared up at the sight, which made him curse himself internally for that. He was a grown man for God’s sake and a scientist. But periods were not what got him reacting this way, it was more likely the fact that he could catch a glimpse of such an intimate part of her life, when he even barely knew this woman.

He forced his eyes to focus somewhere else and they landed on her back and drifted towards the swaying of her hips as she moved up the stairs. Not good for his blushing.

They finally stopped at the right floor and he watched her opening the door. For the first time he noticed the small charm that she used as a keychain. It was one of these small Japanese cats with one of their paws raised to their head and a peaceful smile on their face. He smiled at the sight, finding this little touch of personality quite endearing.

The two of them parted away after she had thanked him and Miguel didn’t dare saying anything more than a polite “You’re welcome” but he was sure he had heard something, or someone, moving on the other side of the door.

******

After only two months in this dimension, Miguel could proudly say that he was fitting in nicely. He knew Gabriella’s schedule by heart, he had met all of her friends and he didn’t mistake the door of his apartment with the door of someone else anymore. Of course this didn’t mean that he knew everything about Gabriella or this world yet. But he had understood that he would need a lot of patience and that was fine by him. Overall he was satisfied by this new life, and it was easy to see. Or course, it was tiring to juggle between saving the multiverse on a daily basis and being a single father, but he managed to make it work. He had even fallen into a comforting routine.

Among all the small rituals he had now in this life – like doing Gabriella’s hair every morning before school, making a lunchbox for the two of them every night or their weekly movie nights – one of his favorites was seeing her...

At this point, Miguel had accepted the fact that he had a crush on his neighbor.

There was nothing wrong in having a small crush, even at his age after all. That’s what he liked to tell himself every time he was delusional. He was pretty sure that the feeling wasn’t mutual and that she was way out of his league, but a man could dream. Either way, he already had too much on his plate, right? Romance has never been a part of the plan anyway.

Then, how come he always ended up acting like a fool when this woman approached him? He had a phd on neuro-physic, had practically invented the inter-dimensional travel and was overall a pretty smart guy but she just had a way to send him back to default mode with one look. He clearly remembered that day he saw her approaching with her wet umbrella and the only thing he managed to say was:

“It’s raining, huh?”

Like, no shit Sherlock, of course it’s raining, he immediately thought. He genuinely wondered how this woman was not already fed up with him but she seemed to hold as much as patience as phlegm in her. He even caught her smiling in his direction from time to time, clearly feeding in his delusion. She didn’t seem to find him as annoying as he found himself and they even ended up chatting a bit.

But most of the time, he would only see her in the morning when he was heading off to work, just when she seemed to come back from work. He guessed that she must have some type of jobs with unusual schedules and this was only confirmed the day he caught a glimpse of her still wearing her scrubs. She must have had a rough night of work and Miguel felt even worse for the day he had woken her up. Her hair was tied in a tight up-do and dark bags settled under her eyes. He was not looking any better after spending a whole night in an other dimension trying to catch an anomaly. The two of them exchanged one knowing look inside the elevator and after Miguel asked “Rough night again, huh?”, she found herself chuckling a bit. This was the kind of sound that he could listen to on repeat for days, he thought.

When he first heard the knock on his door, Miguel wasn’t expecting to find her waiting on his doorstep at this time of the day. But here she was, dressed in that dainty sundress with a flower pattern that just perfectly highlighted the curves of her shoulders and hugged her belly tightly, asking him to borrow some eggs. At this point, he was close to ask for some mercy on his poor mind and body but he managed to calmly give her what she had asked him for. With this dress on, he would have given her all the eggs in the world if she had asked for.

The second time, she came asking for some flour. The third time, it was sugar. Surely, she would soon find herself out of things to ask for, which scared him a bit. He liked these moments when he would see her at the most unexpected times, asking him in a quiet voice to help her with those big brown eyes playing tricks on his brain. After some time, he slowly realized that she must be doing all of this as an excuse to see him; that or she was preparing to open a bakery of some sort.

She always made sure to let enough time between each visit to not look too suspicious but she was fooling no one, not even herself. And one day, Miguel had the utmost pleasure of seeing the subtle hint of a delicate blush on her cheeks when he joked about the fact that they literally had a supermarket down the street. She grumbled something he barely understood and he thought he would never get tired of seeing her like this.

*****

So, when he heard someone knocking at the door this Sunday morning, he immediately jumped on his feet and ran toward the door, hoping it would be her. And it was. But this time she seemed slightly more concerned and flustered.

“Hum...sorry to bother you but I have a problem with the water at my place… Do you think you could maybe take a look at this? It’s okay if you can’t...I just didn’t know who else to ask in this building…”

Miguel practically melted on the spot when he heard her asking for help. It was still early on the day and she was still in her pajamas. She had hastily thrown a robe over her clothes and her face was practically covered by a thick mass of heavy curls, the tip of her nose pointing up out of this beautiful mess. It took him all his willpower to not lean close to her face and start kissing her there, right on the tip of her nose. He had never been a romantic person but there was just something in her that got him enthralled by every detail he found on her body, even the smallest or most insignificant. Not that anything was insignificant with her, whether it was her laugh, her smile, the depth of her voice…

That’s how Miguel found himself lying on her bathroom floor, looking at the underside of the sink. He had been a bit impressed when he first stepped into her apartment. The place was a bit smaller than his and he found himself feeling quite comfortable with the muffled atmosphere. The gentle lights didn’t trigger his very sensitive eyes and he was very glad for this. It seemed like she had settled very well inside this apartment as it was filled with a lot of stuff already; she seemed to be more on the maximalist side of things, and it looked very lively overall. Even the bathroom had a certain level of messiness that he found charming. He quietly laughed when he noticed the huge mass of green plants hanging from different pots, some of their vines even running along the showers walls.

“I’m really sorry for the mess.”, she quickly apologized but he gave her a reassuring look as he began to fix the leaky pipes. He didn’t find this a problem, quite the opposite. He was glad to discover so many new sides of her after being so long in the dark.

He was so focused on the task at hand that he didn’t hear her coming closer, watching him work in silence. The small look of admiration she gave him filled him with pride and a softer feeling that dispersed through his chest.

“Is it bad?”

She had asked while leaning over his shoulders and as she did so, he could catch a whiff of her scent. It was not the same as in the elevator. This time, it was not some sort of expensive and delicate fragrance that perfumed her skin but her natural scent. It was a very heady scent with some spicy notes in it. He could discern something like cinnamon and an other more delicate and dainty scent close to vanilla. His hypersensitivity made the sensation even stronger and his nostrils flared up while he fought the urge to pull her closer to inhale deeply this scent.

“No, it’s nothing. We also got this sometimes at the apartment. You just gotta make sure those pipes don’t get clogged too often…” His words died on his lips when he noticed just how close they were now. Her warm breath was brushing against the back of his ear and he could feel the small hair on the back of his neck standing up. He suddenly realized just how small the bathroom actually was as their bodies were suddenly very close to one another and he tried to move away. Due to his larger frame, he only managed to hit his head against the edge of the sink. He was expecting her to laugh or at least crack a smile but she seemed genuinely worried as the impact had made some of the stuff on the sink fall.

“Are you okay?”

Without giving him any time to reply, she leaned a bit closer and her fingers carefully pushed some strands of hair on top of his head to check if he had any concussion. Miguel felt like her fingertips were directly sending a jolt of electricity down his whole body and to the tip of his hair. He sat there, quietly, letting her slender fingers rummage through his locks, trying to keep his gaze focused somewhere else, anywhere else than the pleasing sensation of her warmth so close to him.

She had insisted on thanking him with a cup of coffee and no matter how hard he had protested, she managed to make him seat on one of the stools in the kitchen. Miguel was still a bit flustered from their little moment earlier and he was trying his best to not stare too much at her, so his gaze traveled through the apartment. That’s when it hits him. Everything looked strangely old inside this place, or was clearly thrifted. Miguel knew that his original dimension and this one were really advanced in terms of technology compared to many others and therefore, a lot of the items and devices peopled used on the daily were highly futuristic and sometimes seem soulless… But here, everything, even the smallest trinket, seemed to have a soul, a story. He liked how everything seemed to belong to different eras and seemed frozen in time. The place was like a small, comforting bubble of warmth in the chaos of this futuristic raging city.

When she presented him a warm cup of coffee, they both exchanged a smile and she couldn’t help herself but joke:

“It’s not the finest China I have…”

“It’s perfect.”

Miguel made sure to carefully hold the cup as it seemed even older than both of them combined. He gave the apartment one last look and his eyes stopped on a fuzzy shape that he hadn’t noticed before. The thing moved and two pointy ears appeared from the depth of its black fur. Then two round eyes stared at him from the living room.

“Or should I rather say that it’s purr-fect.” Miguel chuckled, knowing that his lame dad joke was either a hit or miss and to his delight, she chuckled even more. His grip on the cup went a bit more shaky every time he heard her laughing.

The cat at the other end of the living room yawned and stretched on top of one the numerous pillows thrown on the couch. With a place like this, he definitely understood why she would never leave her home. He didn’t even want to leave himself.

****

“Look, dad, a cat! He is so cute.”, Gabriella cooed while looking through the kitchen’s window. There was indeed a small, fuzzy black cat resting on top of their balcony, a sluggish look on his face while his tail swayed from side to side in the air.

Miguel smiled as he recognized the said cat. However the cat didn’t seem to recognize him and he ran away as soon as Miguel made a move to open the window to Gabriela’s disappointment.

Nevertheless the cat came back a few times and soon even Miguel was smitten by this little fuzzball. There was even something in the mean looks the cat was giving him that reminded him of his owner. Even the shape of their eyes were almost alike.

Miguel could be in the middle of cooking when he would suddenly hear the cat meowing on the other side of the window, begging for some leftover, as if he wasn’t being fed already enough. To his surprise, Miguel found himself feeding the cat from time to time, even buying some designed snacks for him since he wasn’t sure that the feline could eat everything.

As soon as Gabriela had managed to pet the small feline and he had purred in her arms, Miguel knew it was over. She would beg him to adopt one cat and he was right. For the first time, he had to refuse his daughter something, no matter how much she would plead with her hangdog look or her sulky face, there was no way they could handle a cat here.

But Miguel had to admit the small feline had a certain charm to himself. He might look cold and unapproachable at first but as soon as people gained his trust, he was almost clingy. Like someone else Miguel knew too well… He even found the cat waiting for him on top of their building when he would come back from a mission late at night as Spider-Man. It felt good to see someone waiting for him, even if it was just a cat. It was like a link between the two lives he was living. Because there was no way he would tell anyone else about his secret identity.

***

“Why the glasses?”

“I’m sorry? What?”

Miguel had perfectly heard the question but he didn’t know he would answer it yet. She had asked him quite abruptly this question and he was a bit unsettled to say the least. Coupled with her most innocent-looking eyes, he was unable to think for a clever answer. The truth was that Miguel had to wear these glasses because of his mutation. His eyes were more sensitive than most people’s and if he didn’t want to end up with excruciating headaches, he had to result to this.

He stuttered:

“I...hum...when the Sun’s a little too bright, I end up having migraines and it’s very painful…”

Her silence made him feel a bit more uncomfortable and he kept sinking more into convoluted explanations:

“It’s like a condition...from my mother...hum...it’s very rare…”

It was a rather vague explanation but she seemed satisfied by it, or at least acted like she was. While they were walking to the doors of their apartments, Miguel couldn’t resist asking her why she asked this question in the first place. To which she replied:

“I just thought it was a shame that you had to cover your eyes like that…”

****

Miguel was quietly laughing as he looked at the different brands of snacks in front of him. The racks of the supermarket were overflowing with different varieties of chips, candies and probably enough sugar to kill an elephant; exactly what he needed. Gabriella was off to a sleepover with her friends and he finally got the whole evening for himself. What was making him laugh was the fact that all these brand’s names were almost the same as in his universe, but not exactly quite the same. It was often a small letter that changed the whole name and this has always been something funny to him to look at. It truly was fascinating to see how many changes there were between all the different universes, and yet, everything was part of something bigger and united. Like some sort of web.

He finally chose a pack of chips and an even larger one of marshmallows. A small chuckle that he immediately recognized rang behind him and he slowly turned around to face her. Of course they were leaving in the same neighborhood, so it was inevitable that they would end up shopping at the same place. Miguel gave her a stupid, little giddy smile and asked:

“Someone finally came to buy her own eggs and flour?”

Seeing the blush that spread all over her cheeks, Miguel felt very satisfied with himself. Not that he minded her visits at the apartment, but at this point she must know it. She was holding a basket with her own groceries and Miguel couldn’t help but smile when he saw all the cans of tuna she had bought for the cat. He assumed she just came back from either one of her yoga classes or a jogging because she looked a bit disheveled and her face was still red from the effort. Her skin looked very flushed around her face but what caught his attention was the way her skin seemed to glisten from all this sweating. He was clearly not about to complain about the view. Was there even a moment when this woman was not stunning? Must be something in the air of this dimension…

She looked at the bags of marshmallow he was holding and her smile only widened.

“Let me guess, movie nights?” Miguel watched her trying to grab something on the highest shelf and despite her more than respectable height, he had to help her. When he handed her the small box, he finally replied:

“Not really. I’m just planning on stuffing my face with as much snacks as I can. No particular reason.”

“I’m sure Gabriella gonna love this program.”, she replied with a soft voice that barely showed any sign of mockery. He had always noticed how she seemed to have a soft spot for Gabriella. Honestly, who wouldn’t? Maybe he wasn’t very objective, but he could proudly say that his daughter was like some sort of angel. And it seemed like she could even agree on that.

“Gabriella is not here tonight. She’s at her friend’s place.”

“And that’s a good news?”, she asked with a bit of a smile. She must have noticed how slightly disappointed he sounded while saying so. To be quite frank, Miguel was glad that his daughter had friends to spend time with. She was a very sociable little girl, unlike him when he was younger. He just couldn’t help but think that after waiting so much time to have his own family, he wanted to make the most of it. Maybe he was also a bit too protective sometimes, which apparently was not exactly his variant’s type. He was sure the variant made a good job raising Gabriella, especially since he was alone, but Miguel knew better than this. The dangers of the world were nothing new or strange to him and he wanted Gabriella to stay away from these as long as possible. To some extent, he wanted her to stay the little girl she was. Not in some creepy way but he had never seen her as a baby; he had missed her early years too and he wanted to enjoy these last years with her before she would enter high school and then leave for college… This thought alone made his head spin. For one of the first time in his life, he was able to make plans for the future.

He knew that this was just a slumber party but so many things could happen while she was away from the house. What if she fell down some stairs at her friend’s house? What if she burned herself while they were making s’more? What if she had an allergic reaction? What if…

The woman put one of her hands on his arm and asked him if he was okay. Miguel must have looked like someone who was spiraling down his train of thoughts.

“Yes, thank you. I’m perfectly fine. It’s just that…”

He didn’t need to say more. With an understanding smile, she replied:

“It’s her first slumber party and you’re afraid to let her out of the house?”

Miguel wasn’t sure that it was Gabriella’s first slumber party. She must have had many others before but for him this was totally new. All of this was new to him, just like the contact of her warm hands on his bare arm. “Focus, Miguel, focus.” He cleared his throat and asked:

“Is it that obvious?”

A cheeky smile curled up her lips, and Miguel could swear he saw more understanding in it than just amusement at his situation:

“You look like my parents when I used to go on slumber parties. I remember my dad willing to come pick me up at any hour of the night and my mom who could barely fall asleep if she knew I wasn’t at home.”

She even sounded nostalgic when talking about this. Miguel had the feeling that he was looking at a new part of her personality through a tiny window opened just for him.

The only problem was that he was pretty sure that ‘cool dad Miguel’ was not the type to spend hours getting his daughter ready before an innocent slumber party and stressing over everything and nothing. That wasn’t very ‘cool dad’ of him and he must have looked like one of those overprotective parents who would wrap their kids in bubble wrap if they could.

Was she viewing him like that?

“I think I understand your parents…”, he simply replied and to his relief she agreed with him.

“I never said I didn’t understand them. I mean, yes, it was frustrating sometimes to not be allowed to go out or go to some parties or even have a curfew while everyone was outside…”

Miguel’s chest tightened as he imagined a teenage Gabriella wanting to go at a party. That would be hypocritical of him to deny her this but at the same time, he knew he would spend his entire night worrying about her.

Was Gabriella frustrated with him being over-protective? Was he a little bit too much?

“...but one day I understood that they were doing this for my own good. In their clumsy, sometimes very awkward way, they just wanted to protect me.”

Her last words brought some comfort upon Miguel’s heart and he was thankful that she was willing to talk and listen to him about these things. For most of his life, Miguel had never been a father or even a parental figure to anyone and he never had the chance to learn this from his own parents.

“I just don’t want her to resent me for acting this way. I’m glad she is going out and making friends, really… But...I don’t know, maybe this is going too fast?”

Like, literally too fast. He was expecting a strong reaction from his interlocutor, but she only smiled even more softly.

“Trust me, she won’t resent you.”

“Hod do you know that?”

“Because I’ve seen the way you are with her. She is lucky to have a father like you.”

If Miguel could have combusted right on the spot, he would have done it. His face was probably the same shade of red as Gabriela’s ladybug cuddy toy and he could feel even the back of his ears heating up. How embarrassing would it be for a grown man to have a meltdwon in the middle of the snack alley? He didn’t want to try his luck and find out, so he took a hold of himself and managed to keep his composure. First, she was touching him and then she was giving him one of the most beautiful compliment he would ever dream of...

“That’s...thank you. You’re...you’re being too nice.”

“I’m not. I wouldn’t be saying this if it wasn’t the truth.”

Her firm tone left no room for any doubt or way for him to talk back. This was like a nice pat to his ego but also very reassuring words to hear. It was not every day that Miguel got praised this way and he wouldn’t complain about getting this kind of praises by her, out of all people. Miguel appreciated how brutally honest she could be at times for it only made this type of moments even more enjoyable and he was sure she wasn’t lying to him just to make him feel nice.

“Thank you.”

She nodded in acknowledgment while the two of them moved toward the checkout. While Miguel was putting all his stuff on the conveyor belt, he saw her looking at a few newspaper put near the cash register. He cringed as soon as he was the front page. A large picture of him in his Spider-suit, in full color was on the first page.

Miguel knew he had to protect his identity but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t help the people from this realm. Just like in his own Nueva-York, the city’s underbelly was a paradise for any kind of criminals and the traffic of the rapture wasn’t helping either. He just couldn’t stand there and let this city be run by crime, even if it meant sacrificing some of his time with his daughter to run off in the middle of the night. Every time Miguel thought about the death of his variant he was filled with so much frustration. The fact that an innocent man could have been killed this way in the middle of the street and left for dead without anyone willing to help him really strained his faith in humanity. He couldn’t let that happen again; he wouldn’t let any criminal in this city make an orphan of a kid.

However, he was aware that some people were not very found of him and especially the way he was not collaborating with the police. But after all, it has always been part of Spider-Man’s identity. He had to work hard in order to gain people’s trust.

He couldn’t help but look at her face while she was looking at the front cover and when he saw a small smile on her lips, he really thought that was over. He will definitely have a melt-down at the checkout.

The title of the paper reads: “Spider-Man, criminal or hero?” and Miguel was curious about her answer.

“So, what do you think?”, he asked in a small voice. She looked back at him and Miguel was again about to lose it when he saw the pink hue covering her cheeks.

“You mean, about Spider-Man? I mean, is there even a need to ask this question? Of course he is a hero. I mean, before moving in Nueva York I was very anxious and everyone was warning me about this city. But since he is here...everything changed and for the better.”

Take a deep breath, Miguel. Just take a deep breath. Just don’t look at her in the eyes and everything will be fine. Of course, he looked at her in the eyes and he almost lost it. If this fool didn’t know better, he would have thanked her for this.

“You don’t think so?”, she asked and Miguel panicked a bit, trying to find a good answer without cringing at himself.

“I...I think that what he is doing is admirable. But I don’t know if he would consider himself a hero…”

“Then how would he see himself?”, she asked in an interested voice. Miguel swallowed hard before replying:

“I think, and that’s just an hypothesis of course, that sometimes he just feels alone… He probably didn’t have much of a choice when it comes to being who he is and he probably just feels like a guy who tries his best…”

The silence that followed his words made him immediately regret what he just said and he was about to back off:

“It’s just an hypothesis of course…”

“I’ve never thought about it this way…”, she replied slowly. “I hope he doesn’t feel as lonely as you think he is… He doesn’t deserve this.”

At this point of the conversation, Miguel’s legs were very mushy and his brain had some trouble forming even a simple sentence. The way she was looking at this picture of him made his limbs go all jittery and he wished that she could look at him this way. If she did one day, he would die happy.

They kept chatting all the way back home and when they finally parted way, Miguel felt like there was an unresolved tension in the air. They both stood in front of the door and looked at each other as if they were waiting for the other one to say it, to make the first step. He was alone tonight and so was she. What’s wrong in asking your friendly neighbor if they wanted to spend a nice evening with you? Nothing. Then why couldn’t he just invite her to come over?

He knew that as soon as the door would be closed on them, he would barely hold himself together. He would just burst into a million pieces like a broken puzzle just to let her build him back together. He would let her do anything she wanted with him, whether she desired to break him or just pamper him. He was hers without any doubt and that thought both made his heart race faster and ache. When was the last time he allowed himself to be this vulnerable around someone? What if he had to leave in the middle of all of this because of a mission? What if the feeling wasn’t mutual and he came off as pushy? What if she didn’t like him back?

Miguel felt like years of self-doubt and hesitation all rushed back to him. He suddenly remembered the fact that he was a mess, someone who didn’t really belong here and that his body was the one of a mutant. How would he explain the talons on his hands or even his fangs?

And that’s how the two of them parted away that night. Miguel knew that whatever choice he would make, he would regret it.

****

Miguel smacked an other kiss on Gabriella’s cheek before leaving his apartment. He was in a rush and under a lot of pressure as well as an unhealthy amount of caffeine. He hadn’t slept that much last night because of a mission he had in an other universe and when he was expecting to spend this day at home with Gabriella, chilling and rewatching one of their favorite movies together, he had been called at work for an emergency. If not for his brother, Gabriel, he would have had to leave his daughter alone at home all day.

Maybe it was time for him to find a baby-sitter. He knew Gabriella would hate this idea. She was already ten and she would argue that she would be fine alone. He didn’t doubt her maturity any minute but an accident could happen so fast… Even if he didn’t really like the idea of letting a stranger come into his house, he had no other choice. He just needed to find someone he really trusted enough to take care of Gabriella, and someone Gabriella appreciated.

He was very much lost in his thoughts when he heard a soft voice greeting him. Miguel lifted his eyes from his shoes and when he saw her, his breath almost left his lungs. She must have been going out today because she looked all dolled-up. His voice croaked out a small “Hi” and suddenly all thoughts about baby-sitters or work left his mind. The off the shoulder dress made his imagination run wild while his senses succumbed to the sugary aroma of her perfume. She was so close to him in this small cabin, so close he could run his hands over the satin of her dress if he just stretched his hand a little further, and yet so far away like some forbidden fruit. The memory of this aborted evening together had left a sour taste in the back of his mouth and he resented himself for chickening out every single time he found himself alone with her.

They engaged in some light chatting and Miguel couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of jealousy when she mentioned going out with friends this afternoon. He couldn’t really afford to be jealous since he was nothing to her and was too much of a coward to make the first move. He also knew how shitty of him that was to feel such things but he couldn’t deny it. The longer he kept looking at her in this dress, the more he wanted to pull her closer to him and keep her wrapped in his arms for days and days. It’s been months since he met her now and he was still at the first step of it all, which consisted of daydreaming about her and immediately feeling ashamed of his fantasies. This woman was turning him into a mess.

“It’s very rare to see you out there on a Saturday? I hope nothing bad happened…”

How sweet and considerate of her… If only his attraction to this woman depended only of the physical attraction he was feeling for her, this would be easier. He would just put it on the account of all these months he spend alone, living like some monk. But it was more than that. Miguel didn’t just want some easy hook-up with her. He wanted to wake up with her every morning; to have her taking part in their movie nights with Gabriella; to let him braid her hair before she went to work; to love her… He wanted so many things. He wanted that wit, that laugh, that tenderness of her into his life.

“No...it’s just that...we are working on something and they needed me at work… It’s...it’s complicated…”

Miguel didn’t want to bore her with his work stories but every single time he did so, she just stayed quiet and let him dump his worries on her shoulders. He felt terrible because he knew she already had a lot going on her side but at the same time, it felt good to have someone listening to him and even understanding him.

“Hopefully my brother managed to get some time off today to watch Gabriella. But I think next time I will need to find some baby-sitter… Do you think I could place an ad at the supermarket?”

“I could do it.”

“Placing an ad?”

“No, I mean, watching over Gabriella.”

Her proposition took him by surprised and he was too stunned to speak for a few seconds. This could be the right solution after all. Gabriella and her seemed to get along very well and she had her way around children with her job. He also knew she was someone he could trust…

“But I don’t want to bother you…”

“You’re never bothering me, Miguel.”

***

It was past midnight and Miguel was afraid to go back home, just like when he was a teenager coming home after his curfew at the Alchemax Institute. Only this time, he was worried for different reasons. He had managed to leave work early today but due to some troubles in one of the worst neighborhood in town, he had to put on his Spider suit and go, barely having the time to call for his neighbor to watch over Gabriella. He had thought all of this would be over soon, but it turned out he was wrong. He felt terrible, knowing he had to ask her for her help in such a short amount of time and he was coming back home way too late without looking suspicious. And if that wasn’t already enough, he was spotting a pretty bad bruise on the right side of his face.

When he entered his living room, he found her sitting on the couch, her legs under her body, wrapped in a cozy blanket, fighting off sleep with a book in hand. This triggered his sense of protectiveness and he just wished he could run to her and take her in his arms. He couldn’t believe she was waiting for him all this time.

“Hi…”

She was a little startled by the sudden intrusion and she jumped on the couch. She turned around and as soon as she saw his bruised face, her smile disappeared. Miguel tried to act as if nothing was wrong, asking if Gabriella was already asleep, to which she slowly nodded her head:

“Yes...yes she is. But...what happened to your face?”

“Oh this?”, he said while touching the bruise with his fingertips, “Nothing. I just...tripped.”

This poor explanation didn’t convince her and she was back on her feet in a matter of seconds. Her hands immediately cupped his face and her fingertips brushed against his bruise. The very focused and serious expression on her face made him imagine that this was what she was looking like when working. He always guessed that she must be a great nurse but he was definitely certain of it when he saw all the care she put while handling his beaten up face. He barely felt her touch, except for when she pushed her fingers a little more against the skin that was already turning purple.

He made a soft sound that he wasn’t even aware he could do and that made him feel terribly ashamed of himself and very self-conscious. The sound was between the gasp and the moan and made his loins burn immediately with the need to release all the heat trapped in his body.

“Shh...it’s okay. It will take maybe a week or two to heal but that will be fine…”, her soft voice comforted him and he had to fight the urge to just rest his head against the palm of her delicate hand.

She went to the kitchen to grab a bag of ice for his face and Miguel released a soft groan when her fingers left his cheek. He must really be down bad for acting like such a fool. When she went back and put the bag against his face, he immediately felt relief wash over him.

“I’m sorry for being home late…”, he whispered after a few awkward minutes of silence.

“It’s okay. We had a great evening together with Gabriella. She is really cute.”

“Yes, she is.”

He was growing a bit more uncomfortable under her gaze. There was no way she believed his lie and he knew it. But he couldn’t tell her the truth and risking her safety. Little did he know she already had some suspicions about him at this point and if he was suspecting it, he decided to let it go. He was too tired to have an argument or even a conversation tonight and he just rested his back against the couch, his head thrown over the pillows. The only thing her remembers before falling asleep was her voice:

“Please, be careful, Miguel.”

***

Not all Miguel’s missions implied fighting off goons or criminals. Sometimes he would have to rescue people trapped in a burning building or from any other type of disaster honestly. And today was one of these days. As soon as he had heard that a train had deviated from its usual route and was about to crash down the bridge in the middle of the city, he dropped everything he was doing and ran off to the place of the accident. Apparently one person was still trapped inside the wagon.

Miguel moved as carefully as he could, using his webs to swing from one part of the bridge to an other before landing on top of the train. A woman was holding one of the bars for her dear life and she looked so pale, he thought she was about to pass out from fear. It was true that the whole thing had stopped at a really concerning height. If the train just fell, this would kill them both instantly and this was without even talking about the shock of hitting the cold water underneath.

When he recognized the face of the woman, Miguel’s anxiety skyrocketed and it took all his willpower to not call for her and stay calm. He needed to keep a cold head and not let his emotions take over him during a mission, which was something he had learned to do years ago. He carefully slipped into the wagon through a broken window and made his way towards her, using his palm to stick to the wall.

“Hey, are you alright?”

She didn’t answer. Her gaze was locked on the dark water underneath and Miguel immediately guessed that she must have been scared of heights.

“Hey, look at me. It’s going to be alright.”

The woman turned his head toward him and her expression really shattered his calm behavior. He had never seen her so distressed and scared. She was usually so calm and collected, even wearing a slug smile from time to time. There was none of that now as her eyes were open wide and her lips quivering in fear. Just when she was about to say something, a strong gust of wind blew against the wagon and the fragile structure lost its balance and hung more in the void. She pushed a scream of pure terror while nervous tears rolled down her cheeks.

Miguel jumped as fast as he could across the train and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. He was no longer thinking as Miguel but as Spider-Man. Usually, this contact between the two of them would have made him flustered but not today. His grip around her waist tightened and he pulled her closer to his sturdy chest.

“Just close your eyes, okay, and trust me.”

His warmth wrapped around her as she closed her eyes and her own arms wrapped around him.

“That’s right. You’re doing just fine.”

When he was sure she was holding him tight enough, Miguel carefully took the two of them out of this hazard situation and shot one of his web toward a pillar of the bridge.

“We’re gonna move just a bit, okay?”

“What?”

She didn’t have the time to voice her concerns that Miguel jumped from the platform of the train while this last one dived into the water. Unlike what she was expecting, no sound of terror left her lips when she felt their bodies swinging through the air. Even if she was truly terrified, she trusted him and either way, her body wasn’t able to move from his tight grip and her fear. She just nuzzled her face deep onto the crook of his neck while holding him tightly. The wind blew through her hair with force and Miguel wished he could have felt it brushing against his skin, without the mask blocking it. He was a bit more relaxed now that they were out of this situation and he basked himself in the warmth of her body, certain that he would never have an other opportunity to feel it. The scent of hair made him feel ill with a fever so intense he never encountered one before. The need to just dive his face into those luscious curls was getting too strong for him and he needed to collect himself asap.

When he finally landed on the ground, he made sure to gently let her down. His voice was a bit hoarse after all of this when he asked her is she was okay.

But no matter how much his voice had changed, she definitely recognized it.

***

The sudden flash of a flashlight blinded him for a few seconds and he groaned in annoyance. Miguel was still wearing his Spider suit and he was panicking, hoping he could make it clear out of this situation from anyone who caught him going back to his place this late at night. He was just hoping that it wouldn’t be Gabriella because he knew he wouldn’t be able to lie to her. He wouldn’t even be able to lie to...

“I knew it!”

Shock! It was her. Miguel’s eyes squinted in the direction of the silhouette holding the light. Long curly hair, loose bathrobe and thick brows furrowing into a concerned expression. He was done.

“That’s not what it looks like.”

“You’re dressed as Spider-Man in the middle of the night, on top of our apartment building, Miguel. What does it look like to you?”

He was not sure if she was angry, frustrated or maybe both. Miguel tried to explain himself but after seeing him jumping from a building to an other and using his web, he would just lose his time denying it. She had recognized his voice, she was suspicious since the day she mentioned his glasses. There was no escape for him.

“I...okay, you got me there but…” Why was he acting like he needed to apologize? He did nothing wrong? Yes, he did lie to her and hid the truth from her but it was for her own good. He never intended to hurt her feelings or make her feel like he wanted to keep her out of his life.

“But what? Do you really think I was this stupid to not connect the dots?”

“I’ve never thought you were stupid!”

“Do you realize just how worried I was?”

This time, he didn’t have any word to reply to her. His mouth just hung low and he was breathing out some deep huffs. Did he hear this right?

“You...you were worried?”

Her fists tightened into balls and she kept on ranting:

“Of course I was worried! How do you think I felt every time I saw you coming back late and all beaten up! I even imagined the worst case scenarios, Miguel! I swear to God, you’re gonna make me go crazy one day! I just…”

Before an other word could leave her lips, Miguel put into action his other plans for them. He didn’t think of anything while doing this. But the fact that she cared so much about him, when he has spend his whole life thinking no one would and that he was worthy of such attention, had broken his last resistance. If she knew who he truly was and didn’t mind it, she might as well know what he was thinking and feeling.

With one swift move of hi wrist, Miguel launched a web at her and pulled her closer until she ended up in his arms, all pressed against his solid chest and stammering heart. And without giving it a second thought, his lips found her in a kiss he wished he could have given her sooner. His hands cupped her face, his thumbs playing along the edges of her jaw, holding back as much as he can to cover it in kisses and let his hands slide down her neck.

He wished he could devour her with his kiss, make up for all the time they lost. His heart practically bursts out of his chest when he feels her indulging into the kiss, tilting her head to the side so they could deepen the kiss. Her hands grabbed his suit tightly while she moves her plump lips against his. They are breathing into each other’s mouth and their bodies molding against one another, making him feel weak in the knees. Her soft curves brush against his body and he can’t fight back the urgency of this situation. Some strands of her hair get tangled with his fingers and he wants more. So much more in this moment.

They both had to break the kiss at some point because the heat between them has become unbearable and they needed to breathe. They huffed into each other’s face with their foreheads touching. Her eyes are still closed and he is watching her, admiring her like one admires a piece of art. His fingers brush against her cheek, her nose, her lashes and he shivers when he feels them fluttering against his skin. Her eyes are beaming with affection, the same way his do and he feels like he is watching a galaxy of lights and stars unraveling into these deep sloes.

“Do you always resolve a conflict this way?”, she asks with a small grin that almost makes him start to kiss her again.

“Only when it’s with you…”, he breathed out in a tender voice.

***

“Stop moving around.”

“Stop torturing me like this, then.”

She immediately stops the movement of her wrist and therefore of the needle she was using to stitch him up. He is sitting on the floor of her apartment on top of a mountain of soft and fluffy pillows while she was tending to his wounds, sitting behind him on the couch, his head on her lap. Life couldn’t get any better than this to his humble opinion and he couldn’t resist the temptation of bickering around. He slowly shifts his body, half-facing her and grips her thigh with his hand, a smug face on his lips:

“What kind of nurse are you if you’re always this brutal with your patients?”

He was clearly messing with her since she was nothing but pure softness when it came to his wounds. And God knows he was giving her a lot of work. But he couldn’t help it. It was like she had unlocked a new side of him and when he was around her, he couldn’t help but feel playful, as if all the weight on his shoulder had disappeared.

“If you’re not satisfied, then you can go and find someone else as your new healer.”, she replied with a sarcastic tone, knowing damn well he wouldn’t leave even for the most talented healer out there.

“Mhh...I think I’m gonna stick around with you a bit more…”, he replied in a low voice before kissing her bare knee.

His eyes lifted up to look at her from above and his gaze darkened under his lashes when he saw her flustered expression. He could trace his way all along her thigh, only using his lips if he wanted to and the need to do it was growing stronger with every minute. Instead he kept squeezing her plush thigh with his hand, letting out a low hum when he realized how easily he could dig his fingers into her plump skin.

“How generous of you…”, she replied with a flirty smirk.

“I know, I’m so selfless sometimes…”. Just when he finished his sentence, he squeezed a little harder her thigh. But despite being careful and trying to keep it playful, one of his talons pushed against her flesh making her gasp.

“Shock! I’m sorry, it’s not supposed to happen. I didn’t mean to…” Embarrassment was filling up Miguel’s face. This was the reason why they had never been intimate together yet. There was no way he could trust himself around her. He knew he wouldn’t hurt her on purpose but he also knew an accident could happen so easily. His guilt would never let him find peace again if he hurt her.

“Wait, those are claws?”, she asked in an unexpected tone. No one has ever looked at these claws with a tone like this one. She looks genuinely curious and a bit… impressed. Her hands gently held his and she asked:

“May I?”

Miguel was genuinely too flabbergasted to even make a coherent sentence so he simply nodded his head while her fingers traced the lines on his palm. The feeling of it tingled him a bit and he squirmed a little. Not that he was uncomfortable but every contact skin to skin with her had this effect on him. In the silence of the room, he could hear his heart beating in his ears.

She was studying every detail of his hands, from the rough fingertips to the veins on them. One of his hands could easily hold both of hers and the skin on them was warm, just like a small personal heater. When her fingers brushed against his fingertips, one of his claws came out. He hated the fact that even after all these years, he couldn’t sometimes control them perfectly. Usually he did a great job at holding them back but he needed to stay absolutely focused in order to do so. And with her being so close and her breath hitting his skin did nothing to help his focus.

“You’re not scared?”

“Why would I be scared?”, she replied in the most genuine tone, almost making his heart melt. If he hadn’t already been on his knees in front of her, he would have fallen to his knees.

“Because...I could hurt you…”

A gentle smile cured up her lips and she brought his hand closer to her face. When she began kissing his fingertips, Miguel was left breathless, almost shaking. No one had even treated his body with such care after his transformation, and not his claws out of all the spots on him.

“You could never hurt me, Miguel…”

***

Miguel’s hands couldn’t stop shaking as he slipped them under the fabric of her top, feeling the smooth and soft skin of her belly. In fact his whole body was shaking and he felt like he needed to calm himself, to pull back just a little. But it was impossible. They had been waiting so long for this moment, he couldn’t let it go.

They were stripping each other off their clothes with a growing urgency. The cold air of the room brushed against his burning skin and he felt like he won’t be able to survive this moment. His body was burning hot like a furnace and he needed to release all this pent-up tension as soon as possible. Every muscles under his skin rippled, tensed and locked while he tried to hold himself back.

When the last piece of clothing had disappeared from his body, she looked up at him and Miguel swore he could have died right on the spot. It was worth waiting this long for the look of awe she was arboring.

“You’re gonna be the death of me…”, she whispered in a breathy voice and Miguel’s vision almost turned blurry the moment she touched him.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes, I do.”

***

She was slowly waking up when she felt something sliding along her waist. Miguel’s strong arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer to his chest. It was barely 8 in the morning and he was already acting this way. She loved it.

“Hi.”

She felt his breath warming up the shell of his ear and her chest tightened when she remembered all the things he has whispered to her the night before. And all the other nights… She had stopped counting them but Miguel didn’t. He even remembered clearly every one of these moments they’ve shared together and he could have easily told them apart.

“Hi.”, she replied in a sleepy voice and that triggered something deep inside him. His hand left her waist and slides up and down her body, his fingertips gently tapping against her skin. Miguel’s face nuzzled against her neck and he proceeded to leave a trail of sloppy kisses all over her skin, from her ear to her shoulder. Her hair brushed against his face and he was close to let himself be suffocated by those locks.

When his hand slipped under the hem of nightdress, she shifted her body, trying to get him off her.

“Miguel...we already talked about this…”

“Please, just five minutes…”

“You said that the last time and I ended up being late…”, she lazily protested. The weight of his body was making her sink down the mattress and despite how good it felt, she knew she had to act upon this. She gently pushed him back and he obliged, after leaving one last kiss on her upper arm.

“I have to go to work…”, she said with so little enthusiasm that Miguel just wanted to pull her back into his arms.

“I know, bebita, I know.”

“Then maybe, you could let go off my dress, please?”, she replied with a cheeky grin. Miguel finally reluctantly let go off her. His arm stayed on her empty side of the bed, taking in her warmth and the scent she had left on the pillow. She grabbed her clothes on the floor and was about to go for the bathroom when she noticed his sulky face and the way he was running his fingers along the mattress.

When she leaned against him and placed a kiss on his lips, Miguel’s face immediately lit up.

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

***

There have never been a ‘tonight’, nor a ‘tomorrow’.

There have only been this day ever since.

Miguel will never forget it as it plays on repeat in his head, again and again.

***

First, there has been confusion. And then, denial. When he saw the whole world around him unraveling, he only had one question in his mind. Where were they?

Gabriella was at a game’s rehearsal but her… She should have been on her way to work by now… He couldn’t be less sure of it. Wait, didn’t she say she needed to get something at her place first?

Miguel remembers running as fast as he could. The door was still open and when he entered the small apartment, his heart sunk down his chest. It looked like madness. All the colors of the room were mixing together in a dreadful mix of shades. All the precious stuff she had accumulated over the years were gone, disappearing faster than he could even register it. But the worst was yet to come.

She was laying there, on the ground, the lower half of her body was slowly disappearing into what looked like a myriad of pixels. Her cat pushed a last meow and vanished as it it had been blown by the wind, as if it was nothing.

Miguel had only seen her this scared once before. It was that day on the train. Tears were running down her ethereal face as she was suffocating for air. Miguel knelt down by her side and immediately wrapped his arms around the last remains of her body. The pixels were growing and going higher on her with every breath she took.

He remembers that he had cried, that he wanted to tell her so many things… But all he managed to say was screaming “No” in denial. He couldn’t lose everything right now, not after he finally managed to find happiness. She couldn’t disappear like that. He remembers holding her in his arms almost an hour ago and she was fine. Her body was still whole, it was real and she was his just like he was hers.

“Please, don’t leave me! Don’t go!”

No plead could stop that. Her body was being consumed and he had no clue about what was creating this. She cupped his face one last time, begging him to let go, to go look for Gabriella, to make sure she was safe… She knew it was too late for her. And Miguel knew she was right. After that, everything happened so quickly. He remembers the taste of their last kiss, bitter like his tears as she vanished into the void.

***

Miguel already thought that his heart was broken at this point.

That nothing could ever compete with this moment.

And then he lost Gabriella.

In his arms.

He saw her vanish, he heard her last cries of terror and sensed the despair in her eyes.

He had failed her.

He had hurt them.

***

Miguel gave one last look at the screen in front of him. His office was dimly lit and he could watch on one of his giant screens one of his favorite memories.

Gabriella had won one of her games that day and she was hugging him. Gosh, he looked so proud of her and he certainly was. He took her in his arms, made her swirl around while she kept on laughing. Her little nose was scrunching up, just like every time she would smile.

When he finally put her down and looked up at the camera filming them, his smile became charming and his eyes lit up.

He could see himself talking at the person behind the camera, his voice warm and filled with nothing but longing.

And every time the Miguel from the present heard the voice talking back, he would finally let go of the tears he was holding back.

================================================

Notes: Thanks for everyone who read this story. I hope you all enjoyed it.

I’ll be posting less things this month because of college but I’m not forgetting mu dbf! Fiction and I’m already working on the next parts.

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv #across the spiderverse #fanfic #atsv miguel #spiderverse #miguel 2099 #miguel angst #miguel o'hara angst #Spotify

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ozzgin · 1 year

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[Baki Masterlist]

Yandere! Kaiou Retsu x Artist! Reader

You open the door to the Shinshinkai Dojo and greet some of the men in the hall with a nod.

"You're here earlier than usual." One of them comments as you pass by.

"Yeah, the last lecture was cancelled and I had no other plans", you respond with a smile.

"You know it's getting serious when your free time is turned into training time. That's how it was for me!" the man lets out a hearty laugh.

"No way, I'm not made for this." You wave your hand in dismissal. "I'm just going with the flow and seeing where that takes me."

You go on your way, ruminating over the brief exchange. It's been a few months since you began taking karate lessons at the Dojo. You still remember Katsumi's perplexed expression as you stood before him, handing over the sign up papers.

"A-are you sure? The sparring can get quite rough and you're... well... uh..."

"You advertise it as perfect for self defense. Who needs it more, the buff pal over there or this short college student that can't even sketch in the park without being harassed by perverts?"

You slap the papers on the table with a loud thud. The man blushes slightly, realizing the irony.

"I apologize. You're entirely right." He scans over the form. "Evening classes. That's when I teach, actually! Looking forward to seeing you, then."

After the first few weeks of mostly standard workout in order to build stamina, you started learning the basics. Katsumi was greatly surprised and equally impressed by your unexpected skill. Turns out you weren't half bad at this! And so he suggested you show up more often, because he wanted to see how your newly discovered talent would develop in time.

As thankful as you are for his support, you find the whole ordeal rather funny. You don't have any intention of becoming some professional fighter. You're an artist and plan to remain one for the indefinite future. The little karate hobby serves as your dose of healthy activity and as the occasional inspiration, since you particularly enjoy recreating the human body and its intricacies on paper or in clay.

"Oh, (Y/N)!" Katsumi spots you and gestures for you to come over. Your nostalgic daydreaming has been interrupted. "Remember when I said that it helps to expand your knowledge? I have just the person for that." He places a hand on your back and guides you further into one of the main rooms.

"Here she is, Retsu-san. You might not believe it at first, neither did I, but I guarantee you she has a lot of potential."

You bow slightly to the stranger in front of you and he silently returns the gesture. He seems mildly awkward about the encounter.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I follow. What is this about?" you ask, somewhat confused. The deep stare of the long haired man intimidates you, so you avoid it by throwing quick glances at Katsumi instead.

"Would you be interested in learning Chinese Kenpo? This is Kaiou Retsu. He'll be joining us at the Dojo for a while. I thought you could use some variety."

"Shouldn't you be asking him if he's willing to teach rookies like me?" you wonder if this poor man had his services offered against his will.

"It is my great pleasure to spread the knowledge of this ancient art. I only ask that you treat it with respect and don't take it lightly." Retsu straightens his back and looks ahead, in no particular direction.

Ah, how embarrassing. He can't even look at her properly. He wishes he could drag Katsumi out in the hallway and whack some common sense into him. The least he could've done was to let him know who to expect.

Obviously he's seen women before. He's been out of the temple for a long time now. So why is he acting so strange all of a sudden? Katsumi was very secretive about his new favorite student and refused to give him any details besides "you won't regret it". He anticipated anything but this. He's especially baffled at his own reaction meeting (Y/N).

All he can do now is to pray that he isn't so obvious in just how flustered this woman has gotten him. He wonders if Katsumi went through the same nervousness when he first met you. He secretly peeks at the young man and notices how relaxed he seems to be next to you. Yeah, perhaps he just needs a little time. Then he can treat you with the same confidence, too.

***

"What matters the most here is actually the placement of the foot. If it's slightly tilted the wrong way, you lose all support and everything else falls apart. A good kick needs an equally good grounding."

Retsu is in his comfort zone. For a mere moment, he can forget his audience and focus on his technique. This is what he does best. Still concentrated, he unbuttons his shirt and throws it aside, as this is how he usually fights.

"Find the weak point depending on your opponent's stance, and quickly make your move before they've got it figured out."

He demonstrates the attack, followed by a few skillful jumps as he returns to his initial spot. He checks to see if you've been following his instructions, a prideful smile plastered on his face. Your eyes are wide, mouth slightly open in shameless marvel. His smile immediately vanishes and is replaced by an embarrassed frown. Why are you looking at him like that? It's one of the most basic moves he can think of.

You suddenly clap your hands together and lower your head in a begging posture. The way his body bends and folds in such a fluid, continuous way, the way his muscles contract rhythmically in a calculated vigor... This man is not only a master of martial arts, but your newly found muse.

"Please excuse my rudeness, but I really can't think of a better way to put it. Might I be allowed to sketch you during your training? I really wish I could capture your artistry."

You shyly glance up, worried you may have angered the Chinese man. He's covering his face with one hand and you tense up, unsure of how to proceed. Should you apologize? Then you manage to discern the deep blush that's taken over his face.

He must calm down at once. He's inhaling deeply, attempting to regulate his breathing. He can feel the vibration of his heart slamming into his chest at great speed. Truly, how happy your words made him. And this brings him to the abrupt realization that he will never be like Katsumi around you.

It's been a little under a month since he's met you, and the slightest interaction coming from you makes his whole composure collapse into shambles. All the feelings and thoughts are now avalanching over, burying him and making him unable to let a single word out. It could very well be that he's in love with you, but it's a frightful, rabid adoration that trickles out of his grasp, as if it could escape from his control at any moment. It's a terrifying discovery for someone that so values their discipline.

"If it's too troublesome, you can forget about it. I got too excited. To be honest, I've been using you as a reference for some time now, but it felt wrong not to tell you about it."

You crouch down to your backpack and hesitantly pull out a notebook with pages sticking out. You peel open the covers and spread some of the papers onto the ground, for a better view.

Retsu squats down with you and gazes over the detailed pencil works, partly distracted. He'd appreciate your anatomical accuracy if it wasn't for his presently feverish state. He places your hands between his and analyzes them. What a difference. Dainty, fragile and yet powerful enough to win Katsumi's respect. Nonetheless of insignificant size compared to his large, calloused and weathered palms. To think that you've been watching him the same way he's been watching you all this time. Perhaps for somewhat different reasons. How would you react if you knew? What would you think of someone like him?

"Umm..." you swallow dryly as you attempt to break the silence. You can almost hear a faint ringing in your ears.

What if you were to reject his confession? It wouldn't be the first time he's faced defeat. Retsu is however unsure if he'd be willing to accept it this time. He looks at you with newly found resolve. No matter what, he'll do what it takes to become a man worthy of your love. If only he could remain your inspiration forever.

#baki #baki the grappler #retsu kaioh #baki x reader #kaiou retsu #retsu x reader #yandere #yandere baki

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swampstew · 7 months

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1-800-GRANDLINEBLING ♥ Call Me On My Shell Phone

To celebrate 1K+ followers, I opened up phone lines to the crews! Part 3 of 3 ~ X reader with Franky, Brook, Zoro, and X2 Law for @lil-skelly-bones @starblazer124 @sunshinegat0r @strawheart-pirate @writing-yarn-goblin Part 1 | Part 2

You are now being connected to...

Purururu purururu puru—

Franky: What's cookin' good lookin'? My crew is going to be making port in a few days and I wanted to know if you want to hang out. I mean, only if you enjoy going to shows and concerts and stuff. You know me, I always bring the party. Stop playing, you know you love hanging out with me. Heh is that so? Alright, I can do that. I look forward to seeing you. We're gonna have a SUPER Great Time!

Maybe the best thing I've ever done was wait. I made an art form out of endurance. You were worth every single moment - Tyler Knott Gregson

Brook: Yo-ho-ho! Hello my dear, I deeply apologize for the lag in communications recently. The lines were dead, just like me! :D Thankfully, we'll be reaching land in a days time and I was hoping you'd have some freedom in your schedule to pencil me in! You do? Wonderful! I'll be there posthaste. I've brought you some more trinkets and oddities I think you'll enjoy, and as always, I'm the oddest! YOHOHOHO

A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you ― Elbert Hubbard

Zoro: Hey, how have you been? Good, listen um I'll be in your area and I was wondering if you wanted to hang out. I know you like going to the botanical gardens and I know there are some you've been wanting to go to, I can take you if--oh? Yeah no sure, that sounds good. Alright, I'll see you in two days. Yeah yeah I missed you too...

You weren't surprised when you got a follow up call to pick Zoro up. Allegedly, there had been an issue with his transportation and when you pulled up to the scene, you were very confused about the minivan full of yarn and wool that Zoro was resting on.

"Hey! This was my ride until it broke down. I replaced the tires but I don't know shit about engines so we called roadside assistance. As thanks for the tire replacement, these ladies will give you as many spools of fiber you want. Go nuts."

With an excited squeal, you picked a conservative number of spools before throwing your arms around the Marimo who blushed profusely. He helped carry them to your car and the two of you began your trek to the botanical gardens.

The first stop - and to Zoro's horror - an outdoor garden with a hedge maze.

After getting lost and hitting your sixth dead end, he let out a frustrated sigh, " You're supposed to be the one with directional skills."

"I wanted to see how bad with directions you really are," you teased him back.

"Heh, well now you know I'm unreliable," he gave you a sheepish smile. "Speaking of, I know you said you had some accrued vacation time. I was wondering if you'd like to come with us on our next voyage. We ship out next week. I could use really use the help to not get lost...if that's something you're into..."

You didn't waste a second, "Yes! I mean, if you really want me to come with."

Zoro gave you a surprised look, "TCH of course I want that, why do you think I asked? It sucks being away from my---," he looked at you with wide eyes, "My...my..." he trailed off.

"Your what?" you asked with big does eyes.

"From...us...you..." he finally drawled out. The seconds dragged before Zoro put on a brave face and tentatively kissed you for the first time. "So if you want to like...be with me or whatever...you should travel with me."

Law: Hey honey, I hope you've been well. Listen, I'll be coming ashore sooner than expected so don't make any plans alright? I want to take you out and spend all my shore time with you before the next trip. I'm looking forward to cuddling in bed and trying out those new restaurants you told me about. I also picked up an indie game from the last island I visited, I know you're going to love it. I'll see you soon!

There is something about falling in love with a beautiful mind that makes me crave their skin. As if gripping onto the back of his shoulders whilst my body is pressed beneath his is all I've left to save me from drowning - Cindy Cherie

Law: Buenas tardes, amorsita. Did you eat lunch already? Good, good. No, I'm not doctoring you - I'm just making sure my girl is doing well. Can't help it. Heh - you're always spicy, mami. I'll be visiting in a few days, can I take you out? Really, I can stay with you? You're so sweet. Ok, can't wait to spoil you when I see you. Vegan donuts? Say less, I'm there! See you soon.

"Here, I know it's not that cold out, but you'll need it for later," Law smirked at you as he handed you an oversized bag. Opening it, you found a magenta colored fur coat - not all the different from his own blue coat.

"Oh? What's going on later?"

"Nope, you're not allowed to ask questions. Go pack a bag and I'll set up lunch. I also got you this cute headset for when we game together," he said with a shy smirk.

You knew Law was a romantic, deep down, and it was so cute seeing himself open up like that to you, so early in your new relationship too.

"Let's just say, I'm going to sweep you off your feet tonight, and every night we spend together."

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wachtelspinat · 4 months

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hi! i found your blog like an hour ago (though i've been familiar with your art for a /long/ time; when i read that ask you got earlier about you being THE tf2 artist, i thought to myself, "wow, really? the only tf2 art i can think of that's deserving of that description is [vividly pictures YOUR fanart]" -- so when i checked your art tag it was genuinely like encountering a celebrity, heh. all this to say, you really ARE The TF2 Artist. it's an honor to finally properly follow your blog :]). i've been reading your posts about your personal journeys (both physical and emotional/self-conceptual) and i've just been... really really moved by it all? your openness with feeling disconnected with your art, and then how you've slowly come to reconnect with it in a new way and restructure it back into your life... it just fills me with so much catharsis and hope. because life is hectic and things change so much and the way that one creates art as an adult is going to be different than how one created art as a teenager... so to see you acknowledge that fact and then share your own journey? ahh god like i said... it's really profound. i'm a lot younger than you (i turn 20 next month, actually!), so you've experienced so much more to life than me, and hearing how you've struggled with and then gotten out of so many of the fears that i have is just... deeply, deeply inspiring to me. especially your latest posts about your time in australia, and how it's always been something you've wanted to do but spent so many years stuck/anxious/stagnant... and how now you've finally actually *done it* and it's *real* and that you had the most amazing incredible time that exceeded all your expectations?!?! and not only that, but how finally achieving this thing you've always wanted changes the narrative of how you previously defined yourself... that now maybe you ARE the sort of person who can do the things you love and have the things that make you happy... maybe i'm projecting too much here heh god but my point is. it just made me very emotional and so VERY very utterly elated for you :'] and just augh. i am so glad you've had this incredible experience. and like i've said half a dozen times by now (because it's just so true) it is just. so inspiring to me. everything you've shared with such honesty and humanity has been just so profoundly moving to see and it fills me with so much hope. thank you for sharing your journey with us, and thank you as always, past and present and future, for your art. i hope this message isn't too terribly parasocial, and if it is, i apologize ;_; and i hope you're having a lovely day!!!

hey there !

this kind of hit me like a truck but in the most positive way, and i am not exaggerating when i say what you wrote also brought me to tears.

first of all thanks for your generous words regarding my art and sdkjfhkjas i still cannot wrap my head around the idea that you (and at least one other person) thinks about me as THE tf2 artist because... i like my art just fine, it's just there are other folks out there, with their almost god-like tf2 art, meanwhile i just spammed y'all with my sniperxspy art and some random silly stuff over the years... but i love it, so thank you so so much, the thought that you guys dig my art this much will always knock me right off my feet in the most positive way 🧡🧡🧡

ok so, the next part took me a while to formulate because how do i respond to such a heartfelt message in a way that shows my gratitude just right? like i want to thank you again for reaching out and writing all this, but also for taking your time and reading through my blog. i know that everything i post here is open to the internet and a lot of ppl, so sharing personal information (in form of updates in life) is not always the best idea. but i always admired ppl on here that were able to reflect on their lives and share what they've learned. even if it's just somethig as simple as "and after each day comes another and it will be different, for the worse or the better, but different at least", which, falling on the right ears at a specific time, can change perspective (it did for me on multiple occasions, this and other takes, because hearing from ppl who go through similar things is a sad reality, but also such a connecting experience). so in a way, sharing is caring, and so talking about life experiences, especially when they are kind of abstract, like art blocks, depressions, can really open some unexpected doors.

so what also happened after being open about vulnerable situations in life was ppl reaching out. and this was really something that left me so speechless. i had several ppl who took their time and wrote to me about their experiences and ways of coping strategies and other helpful actions. and sometimes they just acknowledged what i wrote which was such a warm gesture that made me feel seen. and i cannot put into words how much that meant to me when i felt at my lowest a few years back. let's be honest for a second, on here we hardly know each other, even if we are mutuals, but that doesn't stop us from reaching out to one another because that is such a big part of the human experience.

sorry for rambling but it is hard, at least for me, just trying to fully grasp it all. it makes me so happy to read that catching up on the things i wrote about my life resonated with you on a deeper level and that it gave you something back in exchange - catharsis and hope. i am deeply touched by your words and your ability to grasp the essence of what i tried to convey, it feels almost surreal to have it summarized and reflected so clearly when my original thoughts were scattered all over my blog over a span of multiple months, years even. like, really, thank you so much for all of this, the time and thoughts you put into your message, your genuine expression of your feelings and joy on my behalf, it means a lot and i fail to put my thanks into words, idk... i feel seen again. and no worries, i don't think this is too parasocial, after all i put my thoughts out there, and you just happened to read them 🧡

so again and again, thank you so much, and i also hope you have a lovely day <3

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swindle-comic · 1 year

Text

As Swindle comes off of hiatus, I (Artsy) would just like to say a few things.

I firstly just want to say a big personal thank you to everyone who’s been so patient during this hiatus. I’ve been dealing with a lot over the months that this comic hasn’t been updating and I’m still just keeping my head above water as it is. To those who are so empathetic, so kind, so understanding, thank you. You guys are a big reason why I continue working on this comic, and I am really excited for you to see where the story goes.

Lord knows that I’ve dedicated more than enough time complaining about the small but vocal group of people who have been rude - sometimes excessively so - to both Lolly and I as we work on this comic, and I’d like to not spend a terribly long time dwelling on it, here. I probably won’t mention if for a long while after this post. At the same time, it’s worth noting that we’ve done a lot to try to discourage and manage this behavior with... mixed results. We’ve blocked people for repeated rude behavior, we’ve banned people from our Discord server for rude behavior, we’ve closed our askbox during the hiatus, we’ve introduced an FAQ - and people have evaded being blocked by making throwaway accounts, and we’ve had an incident of an individual making a new Discord account to evade a ban, and people don’t read our FAQ. It’s all really frustrating.

I think, for now, at least, we’re going to only open our askbox to non-anons - though this won’t do too much to prevent throwaways, it’ll at least convolute the means through which people can harass us. So apologies to the shy but kind individuals who had been using anon peacefully, maybe sometime we’ll open it back up again.

Additionally, I’ll like to just once again ask for anyone who hasn’t to check out FAQ, please. It’s in our pinned post for a reason.

Somewhat related to that - mostly that it’s something that’s been covered in the FAQ, is that I’ve noticed an increasing number of people who have been saying they discovered the comic via re-uploads on tiktok and pintrest.

And. Wow. That hurts. It hurts to know, to think about. I know it’s inevitable, trust me, I know this is just the inevitable result of posting anything on the internet, but god, it sucks.

I don’t know how many of you following this blog are artists, but it’s a big long topic that I don’t really have the space or patience to lay out for all of you in this post - this is art theft. We do not allow, we say it right in our FAQ point-blank, we do not allow people to reupload the comic elsewhere. Dubs are fine, again, we’ve covered this, they’re transformative, they offer an experience unique to just reading the comic. But un-voiced reuploads that do nothing but present the comic in a slideshow? That’s stealing. It’s hurtful, and it’s wrong. Both Lolly and I have dealt many times with our work being stolen and we’ve made our stances on reuploads of our work pretty clear on our own blogs.

Please, if you see someone doing this, report them. The only “official” accounts for the comic are this blog and our promotional Instagram page, swindle.comic. If an account is uploading the comic, un-dubbed, they do no have permission to do so, and they need to be reported.

I really don’t expect this to be the last time I have to say something like this or about this, because I know that this comic is going to take a long time to complete and so we’ll always have newcomers who can’t reasonably be asked to sift through the entire blog for posts like these. But for now, I hope it helps keep the interaction with this comic more respectful. I don’t think the people who do this stuff even realize that their behavior literally makes this comic more draining to work on than it should be (which leads to more burnout and hiatuses) - or I wouldn’t be making posts like this at all, because if they did know, they therefore wouldn’t care, and telling them would be pointless. So I hope this serves as a decent reminder that we’re human beings, and we and our work deserves to be respected.

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rossithepixie · 9 months

Text

I just want to make a post to reflect on the year. This past year was the first full year in well.. many years honestly that I've lived in a truly safe and healthy environment. I'm not gonna dwell on the past, i'm sure some of you who have followed me long enough know a bit about me escaping from a previous abusive situation already. I've vented a couple times in my my darker moments.

That's not what I'm here to talk about though. 2023 truly was a year of healing for me in so many ways. It definitely had it's rough patches but it's also the first time I've felt like i've been able to breathe in so long. The first time n a long time where I didn't have to apologize for merely existing. I wasn't sure what to expect going into 2023 honestly December 2022 I lost one of my most important people when my step dad passed away. He was my rock for more than half my life. (if i say more i'll start crying) So I went into 2023 feeling more than a little off balance.

But I was lucky to have the support of my roommate (who's also the one who helped me get away from my ex) as well as a safe home to process things in. I slowly learned to let myself have things again and then I dusted off my tumblr in the spring and I feel like that was such a turning point. At first it was just to share my art and maybe reblog some things. But then I started talking to people and just kept talking and found an amazing and encouraging community. I was hesitant at first but I started writing again! That was a passion i thought i'd lost.

So I'm just so so grateful for the people I've met on here over the last year. I feel like what i've found here has helped me heal so much more than i would have without it. Even if I don't always talk a lot to everyone I consider so many of you my friends and i treasure each and everyone of you. You're all precious and you deserve the best things in life. I hope this next year treats you all with the gentleness you deserve (and you do deserve it!) I hope to have many more fun moments with all of you, whether it's like us reblogging from eachother and being like neighbors nodding at eachother while getting the morning paper, or more in depth conversations and you get to hear me be unhinged.

Special shout outs to some of the brilliant people from the past year. I know i'll miss some of you between changed usernames and just plain forgetfulness but never out of malice (some of you may get special messages from me over the next couple days. I almost wanted to put them here but realized things would get too long)

@nanamikentoseyebags @strawberrystepmom @icy-spicy @azaleakoneko @princess-okkotsu @missmugiwara @mysugu @demonwoman @4sat0ruu @fah-keet @whispers-of-lilith @kinjuutsu @katsulock @thus-spoke-lo @fushigurro@margumis @pastelle-rabbit @firefistussy @biscuitsngravie @zorosdimples @shibaraki @shotorus @dearestgojo @katanaski @kweenkatsuki-fics @katsukikitten @chuuyasboots @pupkashi

And I know there are more but either they've deactivated or i'm just having a brain slip. I'm not really one to say this but I feel blessed to have had interactions with you all. I really mean that. Everyone I listed here has brought some much needed joy to my life this past year, some in small ways and others in bigger ways. All of you are important.

Here's to a happy new year!

#the pixie speaks #the pixie pours their heart out more like #i know i'm gonna kick myself for missing someone after i post this #Now just imagine me and satoru drinking sparkling grape juice while Suguru drinks actual wine

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bookwyrminspiration · 4 months

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im gonna be real with you i did expect some amount of confusion and blocking but i didn't expect a whole callout??? ToT

all i do is make silly drawings... it's not that deep...

but if this is how people are discovering me: hi! im cg (ghost if we're friends), ive been in this fandom for a while now, and i used to be a lot more active a few years ago.

to clear up some things, i dont consider myself a proshipper (i find anti/pro labels useless) and yes, i have been making "problematic" kotlc content for a long time. im very well aware that it's unhealthy/gross/whatever word you want to use, it's just what i find interesting and i don't feel the need to apologize for that.

i honestly didn't expect the tam/linh post to create the stir it did--my "darker" works have usually just slid by unnoticed in the past and i expected that to happen again. and while i don't personally care what people think about my art, (or fics for that matter) i am upset that people decided to "call out" one of my friends for?? reblogging a very mild artwork??

this is the internet, you're going to run into things you don't like, and other people are not responsible for your online experience. filter tags, block, and move on.

back to you quil: sorry for using your blog as a microphone but uh. you do have a larger following than i do and i just wanted to clear some things up. and tysm for your posts on the matter <3 (and thank you to everyone else who's made one!)

sorry to everyone who uses the kotlc tag on the regular, i hope this little stir doesn't stick around for long.

No worries! I've got no problem serving as. whatever you want to call it. a microphone, a mediator, in-between, etc. People have done it before and will do it again.

And yes, sorry to those new and those more marginal and to the regulars who woke up to this. It happens from time to time, and will undoubtedly happen again. Just life

Especially sorry if its your first bigger discourse, as there's a lot of new people in the fandom--it's never as serious as it feels, and it will blow over. It always does

And, while my availability is currently limited, I'm more than happy to talk as I can. anons are on, too :)

#kotlc #kotlc discourse #quil's queries #commonghost #the kotlc fandom's growing pains continue #it seems like we have generally the same discourse every few years whenever the fandom gets a new batch of people #this is not to be like oh ho ho when /I/ was a youngin or something #and lord my fandom old status. just an observation #i always worry i've got too much of an attitude or ego or am uptight or something #but anyway. that's not relevant to now

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sturnsdc · 20 hours

Text

ART CLASS AU!

pair: Carl Grimes x fem!reader

synopsis: Yn has feelings for her classmate, Carl, but she never does anything about it. However, things seem to work in her favor when they have to work on a project together for the art class.

warnings: no TWD scenes, just fluff, slight angst, somewhat obsessive behavior ??

words: 2,4k

A/N: to make the narration clearer: at all times, Yn is writing in her diary, which is why at times she will speak about Carl, and at other times it may seem like she’s speaking directly to him (but she’s not)!! For the most part, it’s just a bunch of fragments from her diary, as she explains a bit at the end.

this came to my mind suddenly; i apologize for it being so short.

the words in italics are the lyrics of the song !!

dividers from: @cafekitsune ! ♡

main masterlist carl masterlist

YN´S POV

you look pretty good today

is it me or did you shave?

sometimes i wonder if it's normal, if it's real. With each passing day, he seems to become more handsome, and like a magnet, he keeps drawing my gaze again and again. It feels like i can't control it.

i notice when he wears a new shirt, or when he’s wearing the same pants from a few days ago. I notice when he forgets something, when he’s focused, or when he gets distracted.

i just can’t stop noticing him.

good, you've been looking at me twice as more

so i can see your face

when we make eye contact, i feel like i’m going to die. My heart races, my cheeks turn red, my hands sweat, and i stop breathing. Even my stomach tightens, my whole body tenses up. The first time it happened, i thought i was having an attack.

secretly, i enjoy it because when i feel his gaze, i have an excuse to turn my head, look at him, and smile. I don’t even know where i find the courage, but he smiles back at me, with tight lips, then looks away after a few seconds.

my friends told me not to overthink it, that maybe i’m just misinterpreting things. They say if “i keep analyzing every time we make eye contact”, i’ll end up falling for him, and then he’ll break my heart by not feeling the same way.

you sit across from me in the classroom

but do you even know my name?

then i tried to avoid him. He probably doesn’t even know who i am. Does he even know my name? i doubt it; they hardly ever say it out loud in class. I don’t even know everyone else’s names.

but then everything seems to align, and the teacher walks to that side of the room while giving the lesson, as if she knows i’m following her with my eyes. And there he is, on the other side of the classroom, in his plaid shirt and with those pretty eyes, taking notes on everything she’s saying… while i lose my breath and forget what i was listening to.

Carl... i do know your name.

if you want to ask me how i am

don't hesitate

it was a couple of days after the teacher announced the final project. The art class would have to hold a fair, showcasing our own works, from paintings to ceramics. It had to be in pairs, but we couldn’t pick our usual partners. We had to step out of our bubbles and take a risk.

i thought about him, but my embarrassment consumed me, so i let the days pass. And just two days before the next class, i ran into him in the hallway. He seemed surprised. His blue eyes looked at me in a strange way, almost like he was unsure of something. Then he made a move to come closer, and i started to get nervous.

he did it; i didn’t expect him to. He spoke to me, asked if we could pair up, and all i could do was say yes, with a dazed look and stumbling over my words. Then he smiled, like i’d never seen him smile before. His face lit up, and he walked away, happy.

did i do the right thing? how am i gonna focus if i could barely even speak to him?

'cause you're my cru-cru-crush

and i like you very much

i have to admit, Carl Grimes is a special guy. I can’t stop thinking about him, about the little details i’ve noticed, about the brief interactions we’ve had. It’s like my world is starting to revolve around him.

he’s a gentleman—so masculine yet so gentle. He speaks to me with such care, even though i’ve seen him outside of class, joking roughly and arguing with his friends. He’s the complete opposite.

i like this side of him, when he focuses all his attention on me, asks for my opinion, and smiles at me. I haven’t seen him talk like that with anyone else.

should i get my hopes up?

and i'd appreciate if you'd like me back

but it's okay 'cause you make my heart

we started talking about the project.

he’s so smart, coming up with amazing ideas, and i stress over not knowing which one to choose. however, he doesn’t seem worried; he waits for my answer patiently, as if we had all the time in the world, which isn’t true since we have to submit the work plan by the end of the class. but he doesn’t pressure me—he asks for my opinion on each idea and helps me weigh the pros and cons.

we chose one together, and then i started writing our plan.

but… something… feels off. We keep making eye contact, and i smile like a fool, watching as he does the same. Is this really happening? i feel like we’re in a bubble. time no longer exists, air isn’t even necessary—just us.

and then i find myself hoping that he feels the same, because i love how it feels to talk to him, to be the center of his attention, even if just for a moment.

an art class

art class used to be my escape from other subjects, a room where i felt safe. Then i saw him, and it became more than just that. Thinking about art class sends tingles through my body and instantly puts a smile on my face. My heart races like crazy, and i’m filled with excitement. And it’s all because of him.

now, art class has become something that makes me genuinely happy, motivating me to go to school.

even with the project, i’ve never been this excited to work on an assignment before, but now that i’m at his house, meeting his dad and his sister, and then heading to his room to start working on our project… i feel like i love classwork.

why do you always stick to smiling

and sit still being so quiet?

i feel like he's in the hallways more often now, because i see him every day. Sometimes i'm just turning a corner, and there he is, with his group of friends, laughing and being the smiley guy i used to see only once in a while.

he's everywhere, all the time. What's going on?

now it's impossible not to notice him, because he's always there. Sometimes i don't even have to see him, because i can hear his laugh, or his friends', and i know we’re in the same place.

how can he be so loud, but so damn quiet in class? i don’t get it.

it's like a completely different version of him, but i don't mind at all, it's just... weird.

i've been pretty distracted for some days

and it's ruining my diet

the days go by, and each time i get to know him more and more. He's amazing, funny, super smart, mature, and adorable. I've also gotten to know his family better, and i understand more where that calm and controlled side he shows in class comes from.

everything seems wonderful, and i know my feelings are only growing with each passing minute, but he's starting to occupy my mind all the time, and that's becoming a problem.

my friends talk during lunch, but all i can think about is our conversation from the day before, when we got sidetracked from the project, and he started explaining the story of one of his comics. I can remember how his eyes lit up as he told me about it, and i just kept asking questions, even though i already knew the stories. I love the passion with which he spoke about it. I remember his tone of voice, the way he moved his head, and how his eyes looked at me so attentively. I recall almost every word, but then, when my mind is at its peak, i see my friends getting up from their seats, looking at me with puzzled and concerned faces.

lunch ended, and i didn’t even touch my food.

Carl Grimes, i need to figure this out soon.

if you don't take the hint already

i'm afraid i'll start a riot

i’m trying to figure out if it’s just me, Carl, but i really don’t understand—do you look at me the way i look at you?

now i try to avoid looking at you if i don’t have to, but then i feel a constant gaze, and when i turn my head, there you are, trying to look away as quickly as you can. Am i imagining this?

i feel the frustration building inside me, Carl. I need to know.

today, i try wearing different clothes, the ones i save in my closet for occasions outside of class, the ones i wear when i feel confident. But this time, i don’t feel that way. This time, i’m scared. I want you to notice. I want to know if you care, if you’ll say something.

'cause you make my whole world go crazy

yeah, your smell just sends me flying

and you did, Carl. You told me i looked good, then you got nervous and said i always look good, just that this time i looked different. If you only knew how much that meant to me.

since then, days have gone by, and i feel like you’re paying more attention to me— or have you always done that and i’m just now noticing?

you also started wearing a new cologne; it’s stronger and lingers in the air when you pass by me. Is that on purpose? now i can’t stop thinking about how good you smell, and that alone is enough to keep me floating, my mind in paradise, thinking about how much i like you.

'cause you're my cru-cru-crush

and i like you very much

today i told my friends how i feel about you. They looked at me with pity and talked to me like i was a little girl. They say you don’t feel the same, that i’m imagining everything, and that i’ll end up hurt if i keep this up.

am i really that out of my mind? they say i’m obsessed, that i’m seeing things where there aren’t any.

but they were the ones who told me the first time you looked back at me.

and i'd appreciate if you'd like me back

but it's okay 'cause you make my heart

i've spent some nights crying, and now i’m trying to avoid you. It's so hard when we still have to keep working on the damn project.

i’m scared of getting my hopes up. I started this on my own. you’re not to blame, but now i wish i didn’t have to see you for a couple of weeks.

an art class

and yet, that day of the week arrives, and along with the anxiety, i can feel the excitement trying to break free. My heart races, my hands sweat, and i can’t catch my breath.

“art class,” says the sign on the door, and just that is enough to shake my entire world and bring back the feelings i’m trying to ignore.

all my days

been trying to find a reason to stay

i keep hearing my friends' words every time i see you, and now i feel guilt, embarrassment, and a horrible pain in my chest that settles in my heart, right next to the happiness you bring me. It makes me feel sick and confused.

you've asked me a couple of times if i'm okay, but how could i answer you with the truth?

say my name

and i'll go ahead and pick a date

i'm okay

if you understand that this is fate

the day of the exhibition arrived, and i’m nervous, and you notice it, so you take my hand and smile at me. You told me everything would be fine, that we did great, and that we would do really well.

you were right. Of course you were...

we spent the whole day there, answering questions and receiving compliments. We really did a good job, and everyone keeps saying that.

now i feel exhausted. All day i had to manage my emotions—the mix of anxiety, the pain in my chest, happiness, satisfaction... and love, the damn love. I feel like handling all that drained me more than talking to so many people and repeating the same words over and over.

finally, we can leave, but then you take my hand again and make me look at you. This time you look more serious, and i start to get scared, but you don’t say anything bad.

“i’m going to be honest, Yn, i loved working with you on this and getting to know you better. Since i saw you in class, something about you caught my attention, but i didn’t know how to approach you. This was the perfect opportunity, and i took it. I understand if you don’t feel the same way i do, but if you do... i’d like to get to know you more and see what can come of this.” that’s what you said, your face blushing and your eyes looking everywhere but at me.

if you only knew that when i got home, i cried, feeling so happy, kicking my legs on the bed like a tv character, and squealing into my pillow so no one would hear me. with my face red and a huge smile.

now we’re going on a date, and i just hope this turns out well.

Carl Grimes, what have you done to me?

art class

i don’t even know when i started smiling, but i finished reading aloud and looked around. Carl, beside me, was smiling widely, and our two little ones had tears in their eyes; apparently, they were moved by the story of how it all began.

i recently found my diary from when i was a teenager, and i told Carl about it in front of the girls, and they both begged me to read it to them. Of course, i paused at the perfect part, at the true beginning of our relationship, but within those pages is everything, including the story of our first time and countless anecdotes from our school days.

i will always be grateful for that class because that’s how i got to know the man who makes me happy.

Carl Grimes is more than my words can describe, but i think i did a good job explaining how i fell for him.

who would have thought that a couple of years later, this would be our life?

in the end, maybe it was part of our destiny.

taglist: @jamiesturniolo

#sturnsdc #the walking dead #twd #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #carl twd #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes oneshot #twd oneshot #i love him #Spotify

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13as07 · 8 months

Text

Uchiha’s Love #1

(Sakura Haruno)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to DoMyzu]

Requested by: Myself

Keys:

None

Word Count: 4,554

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Non-romantic one-shot; more friendly one-shot vibes

Heavily Itachi themed so my bad

——————————————————————

The knock at the door startles me awake, my adrenaline rushing as I shoot up in bed. On instinct, my hand reaches across the bed in hopes of coming in contact with Itachi. It doesn't, but that's not much of a surprise. He comes and goes as he pleases. Well, as the Akatsuki pleases; more specifically, Pain.

Another knock at the door sounds through the house, echoes of it raking through my body. I have decided I hate Itachi today. Most days I hate him, but despite the burning grudge laid deep, when he's around I can't help but feel like a love-struck schoolgirl.

Before everything, before the massacre, before all the death and destruction, before the hatred Sasuke and I had formed, I couldn't feel anything except love and pride for the Uchiha Chief's oldest son. Our lives - my life was so great before all of it.

Once the third knock comes I move out of my bed. My feet are silent but my thoughts aren't. About ten different trains of thought are running through my head, all ending at the same conclusion; Itachi pissed someone off again.

My eyes drop against the door frame, in search of my katana. It's propped up against the frame as I expect. It's a beautiful sword, but unlike the blade, it's double-sided. An unchanging apology from Itachi; one of many. 'Sorry, I almost got you killed. Here's a pretty sword for when it happens again.'

I let my finger ghost over the colorful laced handle of it as I creek the door open. "Hello," I whisper out, scanning the darkness for whatever threat awaits me.

"Hi," comes the small response. My head snaps down, following the voice. Standing on my doorstep is a... child. A short, twig-thin child.

I scan the outside again, making sure to take my time looking over the empty dirt road and the edge of the forest. After Itachi went rouge, he asked - demanded - me to move further out of the village.

After a couple of weeks filled with lectures about my safety, about him having easier access and a lot of negative side effects from the village, I finally caved. The final nail in the coffin was getting attacked by some of my fellow villagers for 'being an Uchiha sympathizer'.

"Can I help you?" I ask, tone cold as I turn back to the girl standing in front of me. Her hair is in an uneven bob, the bubble gum pink color making up for the rough cut of it.

The child's eyes are wide when she looks up at me, the green color of her irises pushed to the side from her wide pupils; a natural response from the cloudy sky hiding what little light the night gets. "You know... um..." She shifts, eyes scattering around as she thinks over her words.

My hand tightens around the handle of my sword, the crisscross pattern of the material digging into my skin. "I know who?" I ask, doing another environment check. I will say that using a child as a distraction is a new low, even for the enemies of my rouge ninja.

"You used to know Sasuke right?" The words hang in the air, sucking all the oxygen out of my lungs. That's new too. I've never been asked about Sasuke, and the times I've heard about him have been insults themed around him thrown into my face by the village. Well, besides Tachi's old anbu coworker. Occasionally Kakashi will give me updates on Sasuke, but he hasn't been around since before the Chunin exams.

"I suppose you could say that," I answer, turning my attention back to the girl standing in front of me. That's a bit of an understatement. I've been present in his life from the second he was born, which is one of the only good things my situation with Itachi has brought me.

Well, was present. The last thing the sole survivor of Itachi's mental break needs is a constant reminder of his brother. I'm sure he gets enough reminders from the image in the mirror.

Her eyes seem to be even wider as she looks up at me. "I know him too," she tells me, eyes blinking at me as she waits for an answer.

I don't know what answer she wants, let alone expects. "Congratulations." That's probably not the answer she wanted, or the tone she was expecting. Her face scrunches up before her head tilts down. My eyes catch on her headband, the deep imprint of the village stamped into it. "Child, it's late, I'm tired, and not in the mood. What do you want?"

Her eyes pick up for a second before falling back to the ground. "Kakashi-sensei talks a lot about you," she mumbles, her attention on her sandals as she messes with the top layer of dust that covers the ground.

Fucking Kakashi. Mr 'I want to fix it'. I am grateful that the shinobi treats me like an actual person instead of a broken, left-behind piece of the masochist. I'm also grateful that he keeps me in the loop about my lover's kid brother.

Not so grateful that he insists on sticking his nose in my business, or that he keeps pressuring me about everything. Move further into the village, reenlist as a shinobi, make a friend, and find a new boyfriend. I'm pretty sure the last part is more self-driven than it is the Sensei's guilt about Itachi eating at him.

"And?" I push, puzzle pieces sliding into place. This must be Kakashi's little kunoichi who has fallen head over heels for Sasuke. May the Gods either make Sasuke better than his brother or save this girl from the life of being a Uchiha's heart and soul.

It's not all bad. Itachi is very loving and kind to me. Aside from his brother, I'm his whole world. I know that, and he has ensured I never forget it. Despite that, every positive has its negative.

I have boxes filled with letters from him. I also have boxes filled with medical supplies for the next time he shows up half-dead on my doorstep. The same hands that have touched my skin in love have been coated in the blood of the innocent. He's constantly worried I'm too isolated but is jealous of any person I come in contact with. The same voice that lulls me to sleep has told me the crimes committed by his hand. Itachi's love is as strong as his possession. Obsession is not a strong enough word to describe his admiration for me.

Is that the kind of life this kunoichi is signing herself up for? Is she willing to place the golden chain of a Uchiha's love around her neck? A gold chain is still a chain nonetheless. Once you dip into the love of a sharingan user, there is no going back. You will be loved until you die, whether that be from nature, the hands of their enemies, or their hand if they can't take the grief of you leaving.

I am lucky enough to know Itachi would never put his hands on me. Does Sasuke share the same twisted morals as his brother? Anyone can die if it furthers their goal, but not even the gods will rest if my loved ones are hurt; is that another reminder that Sasuke and Itachi were cut from the same cloth?

"Well..." the starter shinobi starts, eyes still locked on the ground. "Sasuke has... he's left the village."

Panic creeps up my chest at her words. If he's left the village, what is his squad mate doing at my door? Has he gone rogue? Or is he taking some space? Is he finally processing the grief of everything that has happened? I wouldn't put it past the councils to label him rouge without him breaking any laws of the land.

"Why might he have done that?" I ask, doing a mental count of how long it's been since the last time I've seen Kakashi. Is that why he hasn't come around? It's been about two months; possibly three. Has Sasuke been gone that whole time? Does Itachi know? He has to know, he checks on his brother as much as he checks on me. Why wouldn't Itachi tell me Sasuke has abound the village?

"I don't know... something about power and revenge," the girl answers, lifting her head to look at me again. That doesn't help the tightening of my chest. Why must Sasuke follow his brother's path so closely? I swear one if not both of the Uchiha brothers are going to be my death.

"Well, that sucks kid," I answer, my tone a bit snippy.

My mind is preoccupied with worry. How mad would Pain be at me if I showed up unannounced? He doesn't seem to mind me coming around as long as I'm not much of a distraction for his 'top member'.

I've talked to the Akatsuki leader a lot; if anything he's the only person aside from Itachi I talk to constantly. I'm not sure if Pain's interest in me is personal like Kakashi's or more 'happy worker, good worker'. Either way, he has decided I'm off limits when it comes to his murder team members, which is a bit of an ego rub if I'm honest.

My mind is flipping back and forth between writing to Pain to request a visit or writing an angry letter to Itachi. As I'm closing the door I settle on writing Pain. This is a conversation that needs to happen face-to-face with Tachi.

"Wait!" The girl yells, her hands slamming on the door to stop me from closing it. That pulls me out of the gutter of my mind. I move the door back open, looking down at the child. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, face scrunched up again. "I just... I want to talk to you."

"Why would you want that?" I ask, letting my face soften a bit. The poor girl looks so distressed. What has Itachi's little brother done to her?

She stays silent, eyes jumping around again. Kakashi hasn't trained his genins on body language yet, which is very evident from the kunoichi constantly shifting her weight. The only way to make her nervousness more evident would be a red stamp mark on her forehead. "Sensei said you're the only person in the village who has dealt with someone like Sasuke."

"Someone like Sasuke?" I poke, trying to figure out what exactly Kakashi has told her about me; more specifically, about my entanglement with Itachi.

"Ya... um... you know, like a rouge ninja," she races out, hands flapping around like crazy. "Kakashi said a lot goes into loving a rouge ninja and a lot goes into loving a Uchiha. He keeps telling me a combination of them is the most stressful thing in the world and I should just give up on Sasuke and with him constantly talking about you I figured you could help me with my thoughts."

The ramble brings a small, sad smile to my face. "Do you want my honest opinions or did you come here to justify your love for Sasuke?" I ask, even though I know it's a little cruel.

"I don't know," she whispers back, eyes on the ground again.

I let out a long sigh, the promise of going back to sleep sliding out with the noise. "Come inside child," I say, opening the door wider so Kakashi's not-so-smart genin can escape the chilly night. Well, perhaps she's a chunin now. I'm not too sure since I haven't had the chance to ask Kakashi about the results of the exams.

The girl walks through the door, stopping in my entryway to take off her shoes. "Um... you can wear mine," I mumble sliding out of my house shoes. I don't get visitors - let alone invite them in, so there are only three pairs of house shoes in my home; Kakashi's, mine, and Itachi's. As the girl slides on my shoes, I slip into Itachi's slippers.

I walk away from the door, once I'm sure it's locked anyway. Someone can break through it but they can't exactly do that silently. A small warning is better than no warning. "So... you know Itachi," the girl mumbles, her head on a spiral as she looks around my home.

My home is quite decorated; pictures of the past, a few photos from recent years, and different artworks from all The Great Nations fill the wall space.

Itachi might be a bad person but he is a good provider. I can't remember the last time I wanted... well, anything. Everything I need or want is gifted to me by him or he provides the means for me to get it. The thought upsets me; another reminder of how chained to Itachi I am. Maybe I should consider reenlisting as a shinobi.

"So," I start, flopping down on the couch tucked against the wall. "What is it that you want to know, kid?"

"Sakura," the girl answers, her eyes wandering around the small living room. Even though the space is small, I have it packed quite full. Living alone leaves me a lot of free time, so the room has turned into a hobby dump center. Baskets of yarn, random piles of books, and art supplies are thrown all over the place.

"Well, Sakura, what is it that you want to know?"

I watch as she walks up to my easel. It's a half-done oil pastel piece of Itachi and Kakashi. I settled on Itachi's color scheme being red but I've been struggling with what color to do Kakashi.

"Is this Sensei?" The girl asks, unclipping my reference photo.

"Ya, it is," I answer, closing my eyes. I can imagine every detail of the picture without having to see it. It's an older photo, taken a couple of days before the massacre. Kakashi and Itachi are sparring, swords pressed together as they come to a standstill in their fake battle. The standstill only lasted a second or two, but there's no surprise there.

"I didn't know Kakashi-Sensei had a tattoo," the little one says, coming over to sit on the couch next to me.

"Ya, he does. So does Itachi and me."

"You have a tattoo too?" Sakura asks, eyes turning away from the photo to me. I nod my head, yes, turning my attention away from her. I'm starting to not like the fact that I invited her into my home.

"Can I see it?" She asks as she scoots closer to me. I let out a soft sigh before shifting around so my right shoulder is facing the girl. I tug my sleeve up, showing off the anbu spiral. "So, you guys all just decided to get matching tattoos or something?"

"Or something," I answer, standing up and making the short walk to the kitchen. Hopefully, a cup of coffee will help calm me. Or at the very least, help me wake up better.

"What does that mean?"

"Ask your Sensei," I murmur, keeping my hands busy with the preparation of my drink. "What exactly do you want me to talk to you about?"

Silence falls in between us, Sakura letting her eyes wander around my makeshift craft room again. "I don't know... just... what's it like?"

I let my attention fall to the dripping of the coffee being made. "What's what like?"

More silence fills the space but I don't mind. Situations like this are difficult to talk about, both for me and for her.

A little bit of warmth fills my chest when I glance at the girl sitting on my couch. She's about the age I was when Itachi... well, became a murder. It's weird to think about, me being in her shoes just five years ago. At least she'll have more of a support system, and someone to relate to. At least I can offer her the comfort of understanding I didn't have when Itachi went rogue.

"What were Itachi and you like before he... left," her words come out slow like she's worried I'll lose my composer from her questions. That's not surprising, rumors about me spread even now because of my anbu days, but mostly because of the Uchiha. I can only imagine the rumors circulating now that Sasuke has left the village.

I think about it for a moment, trying to replay the long-ago years. "Um... we were all always busy. Coming and going all the time from missions. Itachi was busier than everyone else so he was always so stressed out. He never had time for anyone, including himself. If the Hokage wasn't keeping him busy, his clan was. Most days were filled with apologies for not having time for me, but..." I tilt my head, shifting my focus back to the coffee maker.

"But?"

"But when things were good, they were so great. He's always been a romantic. Not like loud, elaborate romantic. More quite romantic," My heart swells with love for the dumb, murderous man I can't get over. My ring clinks against my coffee mug as I pull it out of the cabinet.

"What's the difference between a loud and quite romantic?" The girl asks, scooting off the couch and joining me in the kitchen.

I see her eye catch my ring as it continues to clink against different things I grab. It's Itachi's mother's wedding band. It was a gift he gave me; more like a sign of ownership. Tachi isn't too happy with Kakashi snuggling up to me.

"I don't know how to explain it. A loud romantic is like someone who always has to hang on you when you're out and about. Someone that makes their love take up as much room as possible, I guess."

The girl nods along as she listens to my words, eyes glossed over in confusion. Maybe I won't be able to show her as much comfort as I thought.

"Quiet romantic is... things like your partner making you breakfast even though they can't stay to eat with you. Someone who takes care of things for you without you having to ask and half the time not notice. I don't know, something like that."

The room is quiet again as I sip on my drink. I watch Sakura, her mind preoccupied. Perhaps she's rolling through memories of her Uchiha, trying to find the times of quiet love. I know it took me a while to figure it out; to put together Itachi's love for me wasn't any less because he chooses to show love in smaller, less noticeable ways.

Thoughts of the ring in my hand fill my head as I focus on it. Was it a proposal? Or just his jealousy getting the better of him? How would that even work? Us being married?

"How alike do you think Sasuke is to his brother?" My eyes jump up to meet the girl's green ones. The question hangs in the air for a while as I think it over.

"Well, I don't know Sasuke as well as I did when he was younger. I think he's more like his brother than he likes, but less like him than he notices." The answer isn't really an answer, but I still think it fits. Itachi is driven by his undying love for his brother and me. Sasuke is driven by his hatred. Love and hate aren't as different as people think.

"What's it like? Being in love with a Uchiha? Or, well, having a Uchiha love you back?" I notice the sadness trickle into her eyes but I leave it be. I know how hard it is to tell whether anyone - let alone a Uchiha - loves you back.

"Itachi is very busy with..." I stop myself, taking a second to glance around the room before setting back on Sakura. "Being rogue. No one... a ninja doesn't go rouge to do good things. I have to live with the fact that I know some of the things he's done, and the fact that he's done worse than he'll fess up too. It's scary but... it's also comforting."

"Comforting?" She asks, face scrunched up again. "How could it be comforting knowing you're with someone who has murdered people? A lot of people."

I let out another sigh, letting my eyes wonder again. "I spent a long time wondering why I couldn't get over him. Wondering why I liked a... murder more than any of the shibobis in the village. The answer I think I've settled on is when Itachi falls to his knees at my feet, when he holds my legs in desperation for my love, for any part of me I'm willing to give him, it causes... it makes me feel important, valued."

My eyes settle on Sakura again, her own eyes wide as she looks at me. "Uchiha's are very... ego-driven, but their love is so much stronger than their egos. When a Uchiha is willing to give you that love... it's almost set in stone that they would turn the world upside down for you."

I fall silent, giving her time to let my words sink in. "You don't think anyone else would do that for you?"

"No," I answer quickly, getting a bit frustrated that I can't word the feelings Itachi pours into me in a way that Sakura will understand. "A shinobi's purpose is to serve their village. A 'good' shinobi would sacrifice their partner for the village. Itachi would sacrifice everything in this world before he let anything happen to me."

My eyes study her face, trying to read her expressions. Her face is scrunched up for a while before it softens again; a light bulb turning on behind her eyes. Maybe this girl does understand what I'm saying, even just a little bit.

"Knowing someone would go to war if you're harmed is a better promise than knowing your partner will put their job above you. Don't get me wrong, I know how terrible of a person Itachi seems to be; how terrible he can be. People see him as a murderer, a selfish Uchiha, someone who excels at manipulation. But, I know where I lie on his priority list, I know anything I want will happen if I ask, I know at the end of the day his actions are to give me a better life, even if I don't understand."

Silence envelopes us again, me watching Sakura as she thinks over my words. "It doesn't seem as bad as Sensei made it sound," her voice is small as she continues to think.

"It probably is as bad as Kakashi made it seem. Nothing positive comes without a negative. I might be protected from everything in the world but it becomes isolating." I blink my eyes rapidly, pushing down my loneliness to stay matter-of-fact. "I don't know if it'll be the same with Sasuke, but carrying the weight of what Itachi could and would do if he sees someone as a threat, if he misreads a situation, or gets too jealous... it's scary knowing what he can do."

My hands are shaky as I lift my mug again. Thoughts swirl in my head as I sip on my drink. Am I putting Sakura in danger with this conversation? Will Itachi see her as a threat? Or will he leave it be? Does he know he's isolating me? Or is he doing it on accident?

"Uchiha-san?" Sakura calls, pulling me out of my thoughts as a weird feeling crawls up my stomach. I don't know if I like being called that.

"Yes, child?"

She stays quiet, staring at me for a while as she works out her next question. "Kakashi-Sensei said something like 'you're in an open cage with broken wings' or something. What does that mean?"

I smile softly at her, Kakashi's voice ringing in my head with the same quote he's said since the death of Sasuke's clan. "Your Sensei says that I 'live my life with the door of my cage open, but with the wound of clipped wings'."

"Yes! That's what he said!" The girl cheers a bit before the excitement is replaced with sadness again.

"It means I live in fake freedom. I'm free to do what I want when I want because of the safety net my Itachi offers me. However, I still live with the terrible things he's done. With the knowledge of the things he has and is willing to do."

Sakura's face sinks with my words. A bit of my grief rubbing off on her. "Is it worth it?" The question is soft and asked to her feet instead of me.

"I think it is. I... he's not around a lot. He's always busy but I know I'm always on my mind. I know that I'm loved." I stop again, resetting my head for a second before settling on my mini-me.

"Loving someone like Itachi - someone like Sasuke, means you give a lot. You give your time with them, your own time, always being on call because you don't know the next time you'll see them if there will be a next time. You give a lot of your emotions. Worrying about them and what they're doing, to who they're doing stuff to. Grievance to the people they hurt, to the life you used to have, to the person you used to love, the person you used to be."

I snap my eyes closed, tilting my head up at the bittersweet feeling forming with my next sentence. "You give love, so much love, unconditionally. You carry a million feelings wrapped up in that single feeling of love. Being that safe space for them, sharing their burdens, their mistakes."

I tilt my head back down, locking eyes with the younger girl again. "It's a lot of mental burden, and not everyone can carry that. If Sasuke loves you, he won't love you any else because you struggle with your feelings day to day. Some days I love Itachi more than life, some days I hate him, and some days I hate myself. No matter what I feel, Itachi still loves me, still knows it's his fault for my conflicting emotions, and he's patient with me."

Once again I watch, waiting for the girl's reaction. Her face is scrunched up again and I'm sure her mind is running a mile a minute. "Do you... do you think Sasuke will be like his brother?"

"I know Sasuke is not Itachi. I don't know what he'll be like, I don't know where you lay on his line of importance, I don't know anything about what he'll be like. What I do know is what might happen. What you might have to deal with. I can't predict the future but I can help you be prepared for it."

It takes a second but Sakura's face softens again, a sad smile on her lips as she looks at me. "Uchiha-San?" I hum a yes, preparing for whatever she's about to say. "I'm glad I have you to help me through this."

"I'm glad I can help you through this as well, child."

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