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jlfletcher · 7 months

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All I Really Want Is You

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Breakdown

I'm overworking 'til the sundown

Don't see the light inside my head now

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

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

I need to see you in my window

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

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

And I whisper

All I really want is you

What would you do?

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

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

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

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

Laying in the rain with you

Middle of June

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All I really want is you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What would you do?

Sleeping outside, the moon

Tripping with you

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

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

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

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

Head down

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What question?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lyla!”, he groans in annoyance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And we're escaping through the window

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

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

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

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

And I whisper

“What?”, you tilt your head curiously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you truly not eat well?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, may you please-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All I really want is you

What would you do?

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

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

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

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

“So what’s the issue here then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, you think so?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, now you’re pouting.”

“Not pouting.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I am not.”

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

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

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

Laying in the rain with you

Middle of June

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All I really want is you

What would you do?

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

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

Sleeping outside, the moon

Tripping with you

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

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

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

He didn't say anything or make a noise. He just stared up at the stars with you, listening intently.

“I felt so calm that night. I knew in that moment that nothing else mattered. And for the first time, I felt at peace. My whole life I didn’t do much. I stayed at home filling my time with random knowledge and tricks. I avoided people and kept to myself as best as I could because I had learned very young that people were not to be trusted.”

Miguel feels his chest tighten at your words but keeps silent. There’s a darkness that barely laces your voice but it is there. He picks up the sound of hurt in your tone and it grips him tightly. There’s a tumultuous feeling in his stomach. He’s eager to preserve the pieces of yourself that you delicately hand him but it doesn’t change the feeling of helplessness that floods him. Your honesty is encased in sadness, a build-up of fears and insecurity that he’s far too late to have prevented. So he listens because maybe, just maybe, something you reveal to him in these genuine passages of your lore can help him protect the parts of you he keeps.

“I learned that family was everything because family would never hurt you. It’s funny now… Now, I think I’m nothing but a memory yet to be forgotten by them.”

He turns to look at you curiously but the concern is unmistakable in his eyes. Of all the countless nights you’ve spent together, you’re finally revealing why you are the way you are. Why he feels like he knows you without words. Because loss and loneliness radiates off you like bittersweet perfume yet you contain it with walls built of sufferance and capability. He’s always held a certain affinity to you that he could never quite describe until now. Before his thoughts submerge his consciousness, he notices how your eyes are screwed shut and the way your fist is squeezed tightly around the strings of your hoodie. Your clenched fingers resting above your heart almost as if you're quelling pain into passivity.

You sigh quietly as if to prepare yourself for what to say. “Things happen. At one point you think you know where you are. Then you blink and wake up somewhere else entirely.”

There’s a brief pause before your next words. Your eyes slowly flutter open to look up at the stars with glossy eyes and a gentle yet certain voice, “I’m here now and I’m actually very grateful for all that has happened. I’ve learned things I never thought were possible, about reality and the world. About people and about myself.”

He’s a bit surprised as you speak to him with sincerity, “I know I’m strange, Miguel. I know I don't make sense and that I don’t really fit. But you make me feel understood. And you make me feel like I’m not really alone… Thank you.”

You turn to find him staring at you in surprise. Your smile is small but your usual warmth has returned, and truthfully, he thinks that it never left. “Sorry. That was a bit heavy, huh? Just forget I said anything.” You offer with a chuckle before laying back.

All I really want is you

Your eyes are closed as you bask in the moonlight and his eyes travel over you. He takes in the soft curl of your lips and the faint flush on your cheeks from the cool air and candid words. The temperature isn’t too bad but thanks to the extreme altitude of the building, it’s crisp yet foggy. It’s an odd feeling, the air is damp from the clouds rolling through the skyscraper but Miguel feels warm. So soothingly warm. Especially, with you laying so close to him. So earnest and so true. He finds it odd how comforting this feeling is despite it being foreign to him, or rather dormant. He’s astonished by your trust in him. It fills him with something that he wasn’t entirely sure he was missing. Suddenly it's apparent what exactly this feeling is. The same feeling that he's felt for months. And it finally sparks in his mind as you look at him with tired eyes and a warm smile.

I love you.

All I really want is you

What would you do?

He can nearly taste the words on his tongue but he remains silent as your eyes stare into his. Suddenly he feels very awake as his own thoughts dawn on him. Managing to tear his gaze away from your familiar e/c eyes, he finally speaks as he closes his eyes with a coy smirk.

“Never.”

It’s you. Now, it’s something that’s as certain as fact in his mind. He feels the heat of your hand resting on the blanket between the two of you, right next to his. Right where you belong, he thinks. Right next to him.

All I really want is you

Is you, is you, is you

Appearing near you two and out of sight is Lyla. She watches you two and makes a final checkmark on the chart she pulled from an article months ago, when Miguel was initially questioning his interest in you. She smiles to herself as she looks over the chart then back at you two as you exist in your own little world. The words softly illuminated in the window beside her, Infatuation vs. Love, with all her markings under the latter.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this! Also, big thanks to everyone who voted on my poll regarding this fic. I am open to your opinions and questions! Please feel free to ask me anything!

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hollyhomburg · 10 months

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i wanna write a totally non a/b/o au where jk is stupid in touch with his senses and it results in some... interesting dynamics in his relationship.

i just wanna write him so hopelessly turned on but embarrassed about it when he leans in and sniffs at his partners neck and is like "oh??? you smell good? and different? is it a new perfume??" because it's so /soothing/ so /them/ but not in the way that after work out sweat goodness is just musky and ugh- he's embarassed about it but something about it just makes him want to tuck his nose right there at the hollow of their neck and stay there.

and she's just used to his antics and is like "🥰 no baby, but smell me all you like if it's making you relax" because jk's usually a lot touchy and a little riled up when he gets home, needs to be soothed a little by his mood lamp or his oil diffuser because he's just got overactive senses with familiar things.

but seriously...it's really bugging him that he can't figure out what's making her smell so good. because he wants to smell that good too. and maybe she realizes that it's because she's ovulating and doesn't want to tell him, but he realizes she knows the second she covers her heating cheeks, whines, tuggs at her wrist and says "tell me, i'll get it out of you somehow you know i will." because he can be a little bratty and alot endearing.

and when she finally stammers out that yeah, she is kinda...ovulating right now he just gets this shit eating grin, and he just- looses his last non-horny brain cell because you're telling him his body is so in tune with his partner that he's able to tell? they're so connected that he could smell it? i just know jk would love the fact that he's able to tell by smell when his partner wants him, his body and their body communicating without them needing too. he'd get all needy like- trying to see if he can smell when they get turned on- just cuz he'd think it was cool. Mark my words He would not be able to be normal about it. hornyness/breeding kink's asside.

he'd be so insufferable about it leaning in at times and sniffing at their neck, them batting him away like "don't" meanwhile he's just like 😌 "you want me that bad huh?" "i am literally pushing you away" "but you smell-" "if you /dare/ say i smell sweet i'm going to lock you in a room, and you'll have nothing better to do but read your silly little fake werewolf fanfictions" "but babe they're like kinda real" "you're just saying that because you took one too many personality quizzes and are obsessed with being an omega" "but nesting babe- if we can both nest then-" "will you /please/ be normal and just call it cuddling"

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waitmyturtles · 2 years

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Well — I can’t believe it’s over. Moonlight Chicken was… I’ll get the words for it. Satisfying is the first one that comes to mind. And MC was my first beginning-to-end fandom on Tumblr. The big brains, the META, the psychological and cultural analyses! I’m a peon in a sea of passionate geniuses here. I love this community so much.

Where do we start. Moonlight Chicken, episode 8/finale thoughts and impressions. As usual, quick hits first, then the big thinks.

1) So much wonderful fan service. And I know that fan service can often take a show out, and when fan service is included in a script, I’m sure that at times, it makes directors and screenwriters grit their teeth. But I’m REALLY THANKFUL for all the fan service with all the couples, and yes, I’m including First and Khao here, because — come awn, the way these two almost OVERACTED their relaxedness at the bank and the food truck at the end, I was giggle-crying. Had we seen Alan smile any bigger at any other point in the show than at the food truck? THE SWAPPING OF THE CHAT IDs? THOSE CUTE LOOKS? KHAO’S little head shakes? THE TURN AFTER RECEIVING THAT MYSTERY CHAT? THANK YOU, AOFFFFF, thank yoooouuuu! Thank you for knowing exactly what you were doing for us and our ships, ha.

A dear anon recommended My School President to me, and I’m gonna definitely watch it, because I’m officially a GemFourth stan. More on this later, but I absolutely adored that their storyline took up a huge chunk of screentime. Besides the storyline interweaving beautifully with the major theme arcs of this last episode, their chemistry just could not be better. It’s been well documented how Fourth has been EATING his role, but Gemini, too! The TEXTS! The knowing looks! How much Gemini is able to communicate just by looking at Fourth. SO SATISFYING AND FULFILLING, GAAAHH.

And, and, and — forgive me for being sentimental. Because I’m still so new to this wonderful world of Aof’s work and Thai BLs, I didn’t have to wait as long as so many of y’all in the family for Earth and Mix to reunite in such a good script. But I was still feeling the nostalgia early in the series at seeing these two together, and I felt it so strongly in this episode. Jim FINALLY breaking out of his shell. Calling Wen his boyfriend. Leaning in to make a move (on the wonderful couch). Holding Wen’s hand and squeezing it in response to Wen. Gah. Too great.

Just, like….. how are these GMMTV couples SO GOOD? HOW ARE THEY SO GOOD TOGETHER? (Yes, not quite accurate to call AlanGaipa a couple, but shhhhh.) Anyway, sighs of happiness.

2) LENG. Gossipy. Luv u. Sneaky b.

3) I know we kinda despise her (and by “we,” I mean all of my inner children who want to grab these guilt-stricken, “what do I do nowwwww” whine-whine parents by the throat), but umm, Jam’s a 10! She cute! I liked her mall outfit, I cannot lie.

Jam came full circle. She admits to her shit. She figures out how to come thru in the most sensible way she can. I’ll offer more thoughts in a bit, but I’m actually a little glad that we didn’t get the rage scene that I so WANTED to see in episode 7. She’s ready to pony up for school. That’s the best way she can help, and I’m glad she was written as figuring that out.

What did I see happen to Jam? She leaned into the kind of parenting and family building that she could manage at this point in her life. What she was CAPABLE of, she did. She created a family table for ALL her family. To show that kind of blended family, eating all together, at peace, with a small child in their presence…. to have created a warm environment where Jim could finally, comfortably come out without judgement. She replicated the same table that Jim himself had created at his diner. She’s paying her dues back to BOTH her brother AND her son, both of whom she rejected and abandoned.

I have to hand it to Aof. My inner child’s heart is wrecked at this, but I have to hand it to him. He treats bad parents with compassion. ATOTS, Bad Buddy, and now here. He doesn’t blame bad parents for who they ARE — he instead skewers WHERE THEY CAME FROM, the culture from which these styles of parenting are borne. God, Aof. That’s not necessarily emotionally purging for Asian kids traumatized by the unexplored impact of filial piety. But it’s much more of a realistic artistic meditation, a FAIR one. I see what he did with Jam, and I ultimately have to appreciate it, even if I was dying for a rage episode. I appreciate that Aof, as an artist, will not succumb to base emotion simply because it’s the surface feeling. He will always dig and layer what ends up truly working as an emotionally balanced meditation.

4) Big themes. Once again — a return to the balance between old and new cultures and perspectives, and how us oldies get pulled along into the new age. But also, in this episode, we were reminded of what youngsters bring with THEM, from THEIR pasts, into their future.

This episode focused on Jim’s movement and Li Ming’s movement. Oh, my heart. I’ll start with Li Ming.

Li Ming is really a hero of mine — I think what he demonstrates for me is that youthful FEARLESSNESS towards change that we admire youngsters for so much — while us oldie parents are also worried about them, we fear for them, because we know that there are potholes and pitfalls when change can happen quickly and blindingly.

I think that's what Jim was referring to when he says to Jam that Li Ming helped him (Jim) find his maturity. That was at the core of the night talk that took place in episode 7. I think Jim saw, in Li Ming, what Jim *needed* to see in Li Ming to trust Li Ming with Li Ming's own growth. Jim needed to see that Li Ming could consider his options, and be more emotionally sophisticated and aware than Jim ever has been.

And, I think -- that helped Jim TRUST Li Ming. That wonderful short conversation between Li Ming and Jim, where Jim confirms with Li Ming that Jim is just *worried* about Li Ming, like a parent.

When Li Ming says, "love isn't that big of a deal." When Li Ming talks about other ways that life needs to be sustainable.

Li Ming KNOWS Jim, and knows HOW TO TALK TO JIM.

How brilliant is that, to see that in someone so young, just dominate you, an older person, by way of emotional knowledge and sophistication? Jim had no choice, in my read, but to trust Li Ming -- and, maybe, take some inspiration and take that sophistication, and internalize it, so that he (Jim) could begin to relax and find happiness as well.

5) The other story about Li Ming's movement is between him and Heart, and as I said before, I'm just totally sold on GeminiFourth as a pairing, because their dynamic was really perfect for the growth that needed to be demonstrated between the two of them.

HEART! We saw Heart shoot his shot, dang it! HEART! With his wanting a boyfriend, with his parents learning sign language, with PEOPLE AROUND HIM LEARNING HOW TO TALK TO HIM. On multiple levels, even if we didn't see all of it actively (like with Heart's parents), Heart made demands and shot his shots, just like Li Ming did with his own family.

GOOD GOD -- could Aof have used this motif more wonderfully, so EFFICIENTLY? Young people get shit done! No holds barred, they can bolt through their own obstacles, their own barriers, to get shit done. Young people aren't held down by the past, like some old uncles we know.

And yet. Young people CAN ALSO RESPECT THE PAST, AND BRING LONG-STANDING CULTURE WITH THEM -- as Heart and Li Ming showed at the temple, as Li Ming danced as a lion, bringing in the Lunar New Year (FULL CIRCLE from when the series premiered, y'all!) AND THAT'S GROWTH. That's how the world spins, that's how Pattaya spins -- a place caught in the middle between the old and the new, the historic and the modern. Just like Li Ming and Heart, they are always growing, always maturing, and fast, like young people do, before they get stagnant-ish and older-ish, like Uncle Jim.

6) And then we see the growth paradigm with Jim, as reflected in the mirror of Li Ming. We see Jim -- finally -- loosening up. We see Jim come out as paired up with Wen to his sister. We see them on a date, a romantic date on the beach. (Sure, Jim is still an old dad, complaining about the food or whatever, geez, Jim.)

We see him close the old place, and open a new place. We see that new place as a new and modern way to hold over the old culture -- khao man gai, outside, under the stars, the way it's supposed to be eaten in an equatorial country.

I'm borrowing the following screencap from @hummingbirdsinjune:

We see Jim, finally, reflecting. We see him reflecting on how people were able to move forward, people like Jam and Gaipa, while he reflected on how he was held back. We see him figuring out how he won't hold himself back, and won't LET HIMSELF BE HELD BACK, anymore. He cancels the lease to let go. He, finally, wants to be in control. He sells the car, one of his last links to Beam. And commits to moving forward in so many ways.

And he stays in Pattaya. So we know -- he's still going to be connected to the old ways, the historic culture, of Pattaya.

And when Wen choose to decline the job. When Wen -- AND JIM -- decide to build a home together. Home isn't anything modern. Home is HOME. Home is history. Home is building history together. Jim is both leaving things behind.... and leaving nothing behind. Because he's building all he needs in his life once more.

The building of home with Wen. That's what ultimately took me out about this episode.

7) I believe I finally got the khao man gai analogy to the show that I long wanted before the show premiered. As with Jam's table at her husband's house, when the guys were sitting and eating at the diner before the diner closed. Jim's family, Jim's community. How food brings everyone together. That was a presage, I think, for the home he was going to eventually build with Wen. Y'all know I wanted this, and I'm so glad I got it. Yay, chicken rice.

I'm totally going to have more thoughts over the next few days, but this is what I got for now. I'm so in debt to Aof as an Asian fan of his dramas for giving us such unbelievable commentary on culture and family. We are INCREDIBLY LUCKY to have this artist making these shows. They are so important to me as an Asian, as a lover of my culture and Asian cultures, as an Asian child and mother also struggling with the balance of old and new values and cultural rituals. Aof's shows teach me so much, about extra- and introspection, and Moonlight Chicken was absolutely no exception.

#moonlight chicken #moonlight chicken meta #earthmix #firstkhao #earth pirapat #mix sahaphap #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat #geminifourth #fourth nattawat #gemini norawit #jim x wen #wen x jim #alan x gaipa #gaipa x alan #li ming x heart #heart x li ming #moonlight chicken episode 8

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cosmicdream222 · 6 months

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if sublininals and affirmations arent manifesting how should we go about it? i mean i had some results in the past but only minor ones. I want to get my dad to get another job that he actually likes and if that job will pay more than previous jobs. it seems every time i try to use my own affs it doesnt do very much if at all. sometimes i just wonder if i shouldnt bother existing bc other people get results and im not or at least i seem to be lacking in sometning in some way.

Nah dude, you’re not lacking in any way. The only thing you’re doing wrong is identifying with your past and negative circumstances. None of that matters. By repeating the old story, you’re just continuing to victimize yourself. You’re the one in control of your life, so stop telling yourself lies about yourself.

Subs and affirmations aren’t manifesting, they are tools for manifesting. We are always manifesting. You don’t need anything to manifest but your intent and desire.

Manifesting 101

You want something: “I want to have pizza for dinner tonight”

You don’t have any built up resistance telling you that you can’t have pizza. You know you can have pizza tonight. Even thought you don’t currently have the pizza, you know you can get it easily, and you will have it either way = you enter the state of wish fulfilled

Result: you get pizza for dinner

It doesn’t matter if you ordered it yourself, your parents bought it for you, or it magically materialized on the table. You wanted something and you got it = you manifested it.

Now, when it’s something you see as “bigger”, like a million dollars, it’s often a different story.

You want something: “I want to be a millionaire”

Unfortunately you have a LOT of resistance around being a millionaire. You’ve been told since birth that you can’t be rich without working hard. You’ve been told conflicting stories like “more money, more problems” and “money is the root of all evil”. You’ve had countless life experiences telling you you’re NOT wealthy and you never will be. You repeat negative stories all day about how broke you are and worry about money. You’re doing nothing to change your behaviors = you are in the state of lack.

Result: you continue being broke.

You don’t need to use tools or methods to manifest, but you have to do something to change your state, your mindset, your thoughts. So methods can help change our minds, get rid of the old negative stories and start to believe something different instead.

I personally love subliminals and affirmations, because I’m someone who thinks a lot anyway. Listening to affirmations and subliminals helps stop the overactive part of my mind that wants to repeat old stories and gives me better things to think about.

But there are a million things you could do to change your state. Ultimately you just need to figure out what works for you based on your brain and learning style and commit to it.

#manifesting

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overseer-picard · 2 years

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OH THAT WAS SPICY

Thoughts on Picard S03 EO6 "The Bounty"

Highlights:

Something is fishy with Jack's Irumodic syndrome diagnosis.

Geordi looked and sounded fantastic.

The ships THE SHIPS (starships, but also relationships).

The babies of our babies being clever and heroic together. Chef's kiss.

Geordi being a protective, good dad.

Shaw fawning over Geordi and then "Yeah, it's been a weird week." Actually laughed out loud there.

Look, I am not a crier. But man, when they interspliced the flashback (which looked AMAZING) of the first time we met Data, with the music, I felt a tear and I smiled without realizing I was smiling. And the way they've brought Data back is fresh, and interesting, and pretty damn cool. He better stick around, if anything, to piss off Mr. Brent- I don't want to play Data and I've killed him twice now how many times must we do this- Spiner. I love how they made Picard the audience here "I've had to watch him die twice now." Yeah dude, we were there. And it sucked a butt.

Riker and Worf banter.

Seven and Jack with the Voyager moment. Beautiful. When Seven and Raffi get back together, there's going to be something about "being seen".

Jack starting to respect and connect with Picard.

Geordi helping with the cloaking device.

STARFLEET KEEPS CORPSES??? Creepy. I love it. Picard's actual body being the weapon is a GREAT twist because it truly was unexpected but was also foreshadowed the moment Vadic greeted Picard in episode 2 with "in the synthetic flesh." It also explains why Vadic isn't actually chasing Picard, just Jack. She needs actual DNA for some reason. I still hate that Picard is a synth because it was just so stupidly introduced in season one, but I'm grateful they're actually making it build the story in meaningful ways now and it's making me soften my irritaiton.

Okay, these writers have proven consistently now that they can skillfully hide plot details that payoff in meaningful ways later.

Alton Soong said "Evolution is not an act of preservation. It's addition." And then we have NuData who is the conglomeration (a form of addition) of all the Soong things, a Soong smoothie, if you will. Plus Beverly pointing out that the changelings are in a state of evolution and are seeking out Jack.

Aaaand, while typing this, I just figured out why Jack's irumodic syndrome isn't sitting right with me. They purposefully rephrased things to be in line with these themes of evolution rather than a devastating diagnosis. Beverly thinking he was gifted as a kid, seeing things not there, multiple references to the brain being overactive, pushing outside its confines. Whatever genes Wesley (he's going to show up this season, I feel it in my bones) got that made him a traveler, Jack has those AND has Picard's "defect" that isn't a defect, but rather, the next step in human evolution.

AND, on top of this, we have the Borg threads. Beverly listening to Picard's logs from Best of Both Worlds in episode one (which, suggests she might know things she hasn't shared yet). The virus she uses as a code word. Shaw saying Locutus was the only Borg with a name. And now, Picard's Borg laden body being stolen. Tack on the mention of new ships being connected in A COLLECTIVE, we've got ourselves a fascinating pickle developing

Whatever the Changelings (and invited guests) are up to, it's going to involve the Borg and specifically, Locutus. And Jack.

When I saw the first trailer for this season, I sighed the sigh of a hopeless cynic, not interested in watching a cliche revenge plot.

I am so glad I was deeply wrong.

#Picard spoilers #the bounty

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aro-kai · 11 months

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There is something in the crack between my door and the wall.

I watch it at night, watch the darkness breathe. It's a trick of the light, perhaps, of tired eyes and a mind too inclined to see the eerie in every corner. But I watch it, and it breathes, and I think I can see it growing, creeping outwards and up, a darker shade of grey. It's grown almost comforting, perhaps, and I tell myself that if it existed, if it wished me harm, it would've struck by now. All these long nights, it's still breathing, or my eyes are shifting as I'm breathing, and we lay here together.

I roll over and close my eyes to sleep. My spine is prickling. I roll back and stare at it some more.

Perhaps it is pulsing with my breath, I think, a question I have wondered many times before. It certainly appears to be, a calm companionship marbled with uncertain fear. I hold my breath, change the rhythm. In in out, in in out.

It continues the old pattern for a moment, that slightly too fast breath before sleep, before matching mine again. In in out, in in out. Pulse pulse fade, pulse pulse fade. I drop back consciously to slow, deep breaths, and with the customary hesitant lag, it joins me.

It's my brain playing tricks, I'm pretty sure. I can't be positive. The mind does strange things right before sleep, and that lag may only be what I've expected. It's just barely too fast to rely on with certainty, just barely too slow to dismiss.

The thing in the crack of the door rests there, following the slow deep breaths I'm working myself back towards. There's a kinship in it, that mimicry of breath, that life-sustaining essence. It's calming and strangely intimate, the two of us together in this dark and empty room, eyeing each other, breathing in time. It's how I would imagine a partner, snuggled close, shifting the blankets above as one being, one breath. I pretend a moment longer, ignoring the instinctive twining shiver of fear, that we are companions and it means me no harm.

And that it exists, of course.

I close my eyes and sleep, face to the door.

My dreams are strange and liquid as they have often been of late. A shivering darkness, a fear buried deep. It's stress from work, I think. That's the most logical theory when I'm awake, combined with an overactive imagination for the shadow in the crack of my door.

When I wake each morning, I hardly glance at it, brushing past for clothes and shoes and a strong cup of tea. I hardly think of it, mostly, except for when I do, and then it's so vivid I can touch it. At my desk, I imagine dipping my hand into the darkness of the drawer and feeling something reach up to hold it, creeping past my fingers and up along my arm. I can taste it, nearly, cool metal and liquid silk and ozone and bile and blood and something I can't name, something that burns like whiskey and sparkles like the fizz in a soda water. I wonder if I want it, a shiver of fear and a blessed apathy, a hope clinging to myself and a fear for the rest of my life, a life that feels meaningless if what it means is this.

I don't touch the drawer. Except, of course, when I do.

I am dreaming and I am breathing, and there is a great wave which is not a wave. It shimmers dark and iridescent, like some terrible thing. It's vivid and surreal and I think it is breathing, towering above me. We are breathing in time, the wave and me. It is larger than any building I have ever seen. It blots out the sun, the stars, the clouds, and I'm not sure if any of them were in the sky to begin with. I look closer and I think I see things inside, blurred figures that weep and sing and cry out, a symphony of feeling that is overwhelming, overpowering. I am shivering, and I suddenly feel that I am naked. It looks above me like a great eye, and the wave that is not a wave is moving, a great shuddering gasp that curls closer, tugs at my fingers as it closes in at my sides. It is taller now, and I am nearly encased. I stop trying to crane my head back. It's now too high to see the surface, and its shape is too close. I'm sprayed in seafoam that is not seafoam and gasping in fear, though even as I do I'm not sure what for. The singing is everywhere, and now that I can hear it closer I know that it and the weeping are the same, and there is an answering scream in my own chest. I am yearning, and something within me wants to tear my heart from my chest and plunge it deep into the wave. But I am so afraid.

I can't feel my chest enough to breathe, the screaming and yearning harsh behind my lungs. My hands are shaking and trembling and I can hardly stand up, would already have collapsed if the wave were not so close. I think if I knelt, if I tilted my head forward, it would be encased in the great and terrible wave which was not a wave, and the howl in my chest would join the chorus, and there is nothing I have ever wanted less and more.

The wave cries out in rage and sorrow, and my body shivers like I've been overtaken, overwhelmed, like a mimic of the resonance between two tuning forks. A scream finally forces its way out through my throat, and I howl in answer as it collapses around me.

Consciousness rushes violently upon me in the early dawn, my body and mind still trembling. I can hear my pulse in my fingertips, see sparks behind my eyes, feel a crackling along my veins. It's overwhelming, it's unbearable. There is a wailing in my chest, unheard, no longer able to force itself out past my clenched jaw. I am blinded, I am blazing, and with the corner of my mind that retains thought I think that I could never get over this, never brush past it. I think that I am forever changed, that perhaps this will be what pushes life back into mine.

By the time I reach work that morning, exhausted and fuzzy, my blood still fizzing, I wonder if I dreamt that too.

I collapse into bed that night spent and exhausted, hating my job, my life, my brain. I don't even bother to look at the crack in the door, fearing that I'll see it empty. I don't know what it would take to convince me it's real. I don't know what it would take to convince me of anything.

I have dark liquid dreams, a balm against my soul. But now I can hear an answering howl to the one in my chest, buried deep within the calming swirl. I'm shivering and afraid and struck by an awful awe, a burning. I wake up wishing to fall back into it.

My work day passes as a dream. After yesterday, nothing feels real. I lay in bed again, and close my eyes. I breathe, and imagine the door is breathing, and I feel or imagine I feel it brushing through my hair. I feel or imagine I feel it shifting my pillow, pressing a blinding shiver against my temples. I think I sob, pressing closer. The hairs on my neck are standing as my pillow moves again, or I think it moves. I feel overwhelming fear, but I want it more. I don't move except to breathe deeper the smell of cool metal, ozone, bile, blood, liquid silk. I shiver with the fizz of whiskey and soda in my brain, along my skin. My chest is howling, and I press closer to the real or imagined caress along my neck.

I feel it all around me in my dreams. I'm breathing it in, shaking, shivering. I feel myself as a speck in a towering wave, screaming from the inside for a brief taste before falling back out.

I can't make myself dive in again, no matter how I try, but I howl willingly this time, matching my voice to the chorus inside. I want it, and I am afraid.

I open my eyes to my room and see the thing in the corner. I'm overwhelmed--relief, fear, pain, and an all consuming wave of an emotion I can't name, one that shivers and screams and wails and yearns. It's bleeding out into the room, curling along the walls, and I think of the day before, and the day before that, and I never want to wake up and go to work again, to daydream of sliding my hand into the desk drawer when I have the thing I want here, in ozone and blood and cool metal and bile and silk. The shadow is solid and opening like arms, like the folds of a forbidden flower, and I have never been more afraid and I have never wanted anything more.

I want to feel my own scream in chorus, to have it torn out and suspended, to never have to pretend to my mockery of a life. I think that the thing in the shadow is perhaps the real life, that there’s nothing closer to living than the moments we share paralyzed in the dark.

It's pressed close against my bed now, inches from my nose. I'm trembling and gasping, feeling as naked as I had before the dream wave which was not a wave. I pull myself to a shaky kneel, eyes never leaving the thing before me. My skin is alight, and now that it's close I can see within, details I could never make out in dream. There are impressions of faces floating within it, howling grief and rage and hope. I can feel it watching me, gaze heavy, though I see no eyes.

I know suddenly that it won't force me, that to be subsumed takes my own consent. I could never take it back. I would never again be myself. But I think that I don't care. I think that I could endure anything for this, a chorus for the wild howling in my soul.

It shimmers around me, and I don't look at the bed below, at my human hands, at the room beyond.

I bow in, and I am alive.

#horror #short story #cosmic horror #writing #soft horror #there's probably good arguments for this being a metaphor for depression or maybe queer ess #but honestly sometimes you just wanna get buddy buddy with the void #halloween #eldritch horror #it is never explained but the vibes are there #I promise Nothing on quality #I just wrote it cause I felt like it #can probably tell I read most of my cosmic horror on ao3 👀#I wrote this in an hour and a half when I should've been doing my hw #draft

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lesbiantvfish · 1 year

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Would Manakko be alright? Just them gossiping and about the hyperforce while snuggling and planning evil shit

Me receiving rare yoai pairing prompt:

Now here I am struggling. Do I write my trucker Mandarin? or the fantasy au Mandy..

ykw I’ll stick with the trucker this time around. There’s always time for the other idea.

(Ty for all the prompts again, ooo I got a bunch today, this is exciting stuff for my overactive brain!)

It’s not that Sakko intended to escape jail. It’s more of, some other high priority prisoner was being broken out, and Sakko’s cell just so happened to get destroyed by the attack to the moonbase.

The raiders took prisoners with them as they fled from their pursuers.

Sakko fully intended to pretend to be on either of their sides if it meant living in comfort. He didn’t know what was going on, entirely. Other than he no longer had a bed or an understanding of where or what he is supposed to eat now.

The raiders who escaped with him and the other prisoners arrived to an underground city on a planet Sakko did not recognize. The raiders now realizing how complicated it is to house all these prisoners decided to ask them if they had a place to stay, and if they could help them make contact with their connections.

Sakko couldn’t be sure if his old emergency contact hasn’t already smashed the communication line they used to share. But he knew it wasn’t like he had any other option.

Sakko held the coordinates to his current location, and a borrowed communicator.

This guy was as Sakko remembered, not that bad. Kind of obsessed, but at a time they both shared an ultimately self serving loyalty to the same ruthless boss.

Who in their right mind would serve Skeleton King selflessly? Not to imply that Mandarin was a well adjusted man. But he was one that understood the importance of keeping a technological expert close.

“.. Hello, this is Samantha’s pickup services. What brings you to this call?”

A familiar voice, but an abysmally unfamiliar line.

“… Mandarin? What exactly are you doing?”

Somewhere else, Mandarin raises his brow at the familiar voice. Sakko kept his number? Sakko had business with him, and not his clone?

Mandarin knew he needed to train himself, and gather a team he could depend on before exacting any revenge on either the hyperforce or Skeleton King.

“This is Mandarin speaking, yes. I didn’t think this was a personal call.”

“Are you doing anything right now?”

Oh boy, was he. Mandarin was hauling an entire amusement park ride in the back of his space car. But this was also his chance to regain his former companion.

“Not anything I can’t multitask. What is it that you’re calling me for?”

“The prison I was at was destroyed. Do you, um. Well, is there any way I can stay with you until I’m able to live elsewhere..?”

“You want to be a stowaway?”

Mandarin continued, feeling obligated to catch him up to speed. “Sakko, my clone stole my identity. Legally, no one considers me a criminal anymore. Anyway, sure. I’ll give you a temporary home if you’ll accept it, that is.”

“Your what?”

“It’s a good thing you called me, and not him. You see, he’d sound like me, and remember being me, but he’d ultimately trick you into losing yourself to Skeleton King. I’m not sure if you figured it out yet, but the Skeleton King can’t help us anymore.”

Sakko still felt the psychological urge to gain Skeleton King’s approval even after all the torment he put him through.

“I’ll make Skeleton King regret losing me. We were his greatest assets. …Anyway, I’ll stay anywhere that lets me eat and sleep and be myself comfortably.”

“Sakko, we’re far more than just assets. But none the less, that works with me. Where can I find you?”

—

Sakko was given new clothes, ones that apparently belonged to a doll. He made it work. The skirt had suspenders, and even functional pockets.

Sakko tried to adjust the ribbon around his new shirt collar just right, as his second impression on Mandarin was significant enough to give himself a new home. Even if it does turn out to be temporary.

A large cargo ship landed nearby. It had a gigantic advertisement on the side for a new theme park. As the door opened, Sakko saw a familiar set of purple feet step out.

Sakko spoke first at the sight of Mandarin’s appearance.

“Man, lose the shades. We’re underground, you know.”

“No. Do you have any luggage?”

“What do you think? The moonbase prison confiscated all my projects and materials. Even my goddamn wardrobe. My favorite blue crop top? Gone.”

“That is rough. You looked fantastic in that one.”

Suddenly, a crowd unaware of Sakko almost stampeded over him.

Mandarin scooped him up by his suspenders, and put him on his shoulders to move onto the cargo ship. It seemed this place was getting too crowded for a proper conversation to catch up with one another.

Sakko clung securely to Mandarin, and felt a comfortable sense of security wash over him. He was so glad his connection to Mandarin seemed to be intact.

#I am not the best ship writer in my opinion!! Hope this is still ok #seriously I can’t even do my otps justice I’m being honest #srmthfg #gil answering post #gil writings tag #manakko

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crescent-lunatic-wolf · 1 year

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I don’t know what to call myself in relation to this otherkin/therian/alterhuman stuff. It’s still kinda new and scary TERRIFYING TBH. Half the reason I created this blog was to sort this out, though, so dammit if I’m not gonna try.

Once upon a time, I was a dumb kid with an extremely overactive animation. And I mean extreme. I had an imaginary friend that I could not get to ‘go away’ until i basically had an existential crisis and screamed at him.

Sorry, old buddy, but I was starting real school and I needed to at least look normal. Im sure you understand.

This was just the first of many incidents where I felt obligated to cynically crush my more outlandish thoughts into a ball and stuff them away in a corner forever.

Then later I figured out that I’m trans. A lot of things started to make much more sense after that: why I hated puberty so much, why I felt too ‘soft at heart’ compared to other ‘boys’, why I oh-so-despised how I looked…

That was over 8 years ago.

Now, much more recently, as in within the week at time of typing this, a bunch of old thought patterns kinda cropped up at once. I am certain that this had something to do with the recent super moon, though. I don’t know if it was something I subconsciously did to myself, or if talking about werewolves just unlocked the forbidden corners of my brain or what, but the thoughts are back and hoo boy.

When I was a younger, edgier, egg-ier teen, I loved werewolves, conceptually. The very concept of wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing except its more wolf-in-human-skin was, in a word, rad. I knew it was a mythological, fantastical concept (logically speaking, I still do), but oh my god how cool would it be to be that kinda monster?! I didn’t care how alienated it’d make me (though to be fair I was already kind of a weirdo outcast). Raw meat, hunting animals or even people by the full moon? Cathartic af. That sheer power, to be able to assume the form of a terror of nature, to be one with and at home with the moonlit wood… I would kill* for that level of freedom and… and…

*PAST tense, I’m not exactly a serial killer in the making here

What is that other feeling though? It was good, I know. Almost addictive. Satisfaction? Desire of some sort?

Whatever it was, it felt right. …and that’s exactly why I had to suppress it. I was only setting myself up for heartbreak by pouring my soul into this idea of being/becoming something that, by all means, doesn’t exist.

Once upon a time, I thought I’d never be a woman, either.

So fuck that noise. This werewolf-at-heart is back. I don’t care if its an unrealistic dream/goal/whatever-the-fuck, it makes me happy, dammit! Like on some kinda spiritual level or something.

So yeah. I think that makes me alterhuman, otherkin, and/or therian? I’m not 100% on the distinctions, but I want to find out. I can at least comfort in the knowledge that, clearly, I’m not the only one who feels this way. Hopefully at least some o’ y’all can accept me into the fold.

- C

#alterhuman #otherkin #therian #werewolf otherkin #werewolf therian #lycanthropy #lycanthrope #werewolfkin #coming out??#i don’t know how to tag this #bark bark

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hersheythecure · 1 month

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While moving things to storage I had a couple panic attacks. Uncontrolled crying. Hyperventilating. Chest pains. Bent over ugly crying. It's so painful to watch. My body in so much pain and having to be a vessel for my traumatized parts yearly presentation.

My mind kind of absorbed the realization that it is real. Especially with the autism traits. It started going through our memories and showing me all the times we tried to rationalize concepts and wondered why someone else didn't see it that way.

How we'd try to figure out how a situation could've been prevented. How we'd observe the behaviors and place different behaviors with emotional and logical reasoning to make a situation have a better outcome.

My mind showed me. We are like an onion with our DID. How painful it is to be peeled by life. To have a disorder that hides me away until my brain is fully developed just to show me all of the horrible things my body went through. It's not by choice. It's by design. It's natural. Our brains natural response to mass trauma. Sometimes makes me wonder if autism is enviromental and trauma based or if I had an autistic brain that just got traumatized by life.

I never felt the gravity of "it's so much worse" as my mind revealed my trauma and parts to me. It's always going to get worse with this disorder because you're walking through yourself for the first time. You're seeing every crevice as your body builds resilience and your brain develops. It's like being born and having to mass absorb events that you were not even privy too. Of curse I had a shit ton of psychosis. That's a lot. For any brain. Especially one with multiple dissociative parts. I grieve for myself.

It's so heavy.

And not only am I coming to terms with actually seeing myself in a space in the world but also reliving my miscarriage in high-school. Seeing Chrissy have to go through something so traumatic with no one to speak to. Too afraid to tell her mom. The fear of being kicked out the house. It was so crushing. Knowing that I'd be discarded of for something I didn't even do. Didn't even fully understand. Guys sucked. They'd remove condoms and give us stds. I remember seeing why my teenage self gave up on condoms. If she was so responsible and still got stds and pregnant wtf was the point of using them.

It was not you. You didn't poke wholes in condoms. You didn't refuse to use condoms. You didn't refuse to take care of yourself and get tested. They did. They did not love themselves the way you loved yourself. They did not value their bodies the way you still did. Even if there are parts of us that didn't. They did not have the capacity to understand. We were switching so much we didn't even know. The MDD part was so numb and so dissociated from the world. She felt like a zombie waling around hoping someone would care about her. She'd be inside us crying and screaming and the part in the body would be looking for a male figure to protect hs and comfort us. But even then our brain must've known our dad was who made us this way. Or maybe didn't but now is piecing things together the more we learn about our past.

This world was not fit for me. I wonder if that is how people like me feel. Autistic humans. Disordered humans. I know it felt like I didn't belong here. It made me want to die. It made my little adolescent mind go to places that scared the trap out of us.

I am seeing the positive times though. When we had the dream about Nathan. The night he was conceived. I cried. It was so beautiful. I think it's on main somewhere. Back I'm 2010.

The significance of what we saw in our adolescent. The color of love we described as translucent iridescent water flowing all around us. Wow. Cool. Beautiful. Hallucinations be kinda lit sometimes. It's really just an overactive imagination. If your mind gets split up so many times your mental processes kinda get overused. Especially if different identities are present. You know how hard the brain is working to keep it's human safe while also not knowing wtf was going on. Sheesh. Stella you my dawg. You've always been keeping me safe. Thank you. I did my best.

Idk what kind of mind I have. I just know I don't want to cause people pain. I know I want to be kind to my mind because no one else is there to do so. No one. Just me.

#journaling

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remainseatedatalltimes · 9 months

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2023: Bow Down To Barbenheimer

Oh 2023. You came and went in a flicker. And so will the memory of your cinema releases.

Okay, okay. It wasn’t that bad. But in many ways, 2023 felt like a complete repeat of 2022 with the release of a series of decent, entertaining enough films to help moviegoers like myself enjoy a cinematic escape from the real world.

Now don’t get me wrong, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. In fact, it’s precisely what my overactive brain yearns for. And it’s a large reason why so many of the movies I review tend to sit squarely in the 3-to-4-star category. I’m so grateful for that escape that I genuinely do like most movies. But essentially, a movie needs to make me FEEL something that compels me to want to talk about it to get above or below that range. To keep that escape going beyond the boundaries of the cineplex. Good, bad or otherwise (we all love to share horror stories of the appalling film we had to endure…remember Cats?). So whilst I thoroughly enjoyed my cinematic escapes in 2023, very few films kept me thinking and talking extensively about them beyond the boundaries of the cinema. With a few exceptions…

But first, let’s talk about the three movies that DID make an impact in 2023 with most cinemagoers: Barbie, Oppenheimer, and The Super Mario Bros. Movie. All 3 were big successes that certainly lit up the interweb. And whilst Barbie certainly drew lots of well-deserved praise, unfortunately for me, most of the sequences with Will Ferrell and the Mattel leaders – who clearly had to be larger than life caricatures so to not offend the real-world company banking the film – just completely ruined the overall tone and impact. Which is a shame, because if these characters had in fact represented the real-world business leaders, it would have elevated this already joyous and clever film to greater heights.

Meanwhile, The Super Mario Bros. Movie did great fan service with a fun and fast-paced film that finally gave the biggest names in gaming the cinematic star-status they deserve. Even if Nintendo clearly didn’t read the Disney rulebook on merchandising by failing to release a new gaming title in line with the film…go figure.

But it was the final film in the 2023 trifecta that transcended the crowd to take the crown of my number 1 film of the year. That film, Christopher Nolan’s dark, anxious and ambitious study of guilt, in the biopic, Oppenheimer.

To be honest, this movie probably does deserve a higher ranking than I’ve awarded it. It is pretty close to cinema perfection. A stellar cast, a stunning soundscape, a captivating story, and some of the best scene composition I’ve seen in years. But I review from my heart, and I still left Oppenheimer stunned, but slightly hollow. Which arguably is the entire point of the film. I think we’d all have been very confused if this had been a musical retelling (don’t laugh, it’s actually a thing - Google Australian musical Atomic). But when I look at other films I’ve awarded higher scores to, I stand by my score based on my personal taste. I am quite thrilled it still managed to take out the no. 1 spot, however. And hey, this is my list, so I can do what I want 😉

Interestingly, my second favourite film dealt with very similar themes – depression, grief, isolation – but in a VERY different way. Quirky, brilliantly acted, and at times both heartbreaking and hilarious, The Banshees of Inisherin did find its way to my heart, and captivated me for 2 joyous hours of intrigue, laughs, tears, and WTF is happening musings. Not to mention the haunting, yet stunning landscape sitting at the films core. I lied. I did mention it.

Rounding out my top 3 was another Barry Keoghan star vehicle, and one of 2023’s most controversial movies. Whilst not quite as sublime as Emerald Fennell’s spectacular 2021 film, Promising Young Woman, her recent take on wealth, privilege, desire, and greed was impossible to look away from (even though I kind of wanted to in several instances). But that is precisely the point of this film. Reminiscent to me of one of my favourite films of all time, the underrated The Talented Mr. Ripley, this cynical, shocking, and brutal film was intentionally wicked and wonderful to behold. Even if it may not be for everyone.

Similarly to 2022, I ended up awarding 12 films this year with 4-star ratings. So there were plenty of other very good films released this year that you should catch up on if you haven’t already. These ranged from the wonderfully optimistic and sentimental, Wonka – which, despite the director’s claims to the contrary, is the very definition of a MUSICAL; to the brilliant and most original film of the year, Poor Things – which very nearly pipped Saltburn for my 3rd place. Emma Stone can literally do no wrong. I also thoroughly enjoyed the animated gems ranging from the best superhero film of the year – Spiderman: Across the Universe; to Pixar’s romantic comedy, Elemental; to Disney’s latest animated musical, Wish – a charming, somewhat clever tribute to the 100th anniversary of the studio. I also clearly have a thing for seeing the upper echelons suffer, because the disturbing, yet brilliantly funny Triangle of Sadness also wet my whistle. And rounding out the top 12 were three bigger blockbuster style films that shot well above their weight: The best game adaptation of a movie to date (no, it’s not the one you’re thinking), Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves; the Nike origin story (is that a thing?), Air; and the hilarious, Joyride which accelerated nicely, but took out a few orange safety cones on the way to the finish line.

Thankfully this year was very firmly tipped in favour of the positives, with only 2 films falling below the 3-star level (although several such as the over-rated critical darling Tár, and the underwhelming slew of Marvel 2023 releases including The Marvels and Guardians of the Galaxy: Volume 3, did teeter precariously close to that edge.

Instead, it was another Marvel film, the over CGI’d and yet rather dull, Ant Man sequel, Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantamania that unfortunately became my first Marvel Cinematic Universe film to drop below the 3-star level. Mostly because it felt pointless, hollow, and somewhat dull. The sooner Marvel realises the solution to their box-office woes right now is less about super-hero fatigue, and more about the fact they’ve lost their human elements – and in doing so – their emotional core, the better. The solution: Ditch trying to go “bigger”, and bring the action back to Earth, in a setting we all find familiar, to make the action more personal. In other words, bring in the moral quarry that the X-Men present. There is no better time than now to tell the mutation story. So they should hurry up and re-tell it the way only Marvel Studios can.

And finally, rounding out my list in last place was the incredibly oddly executed black comedy – Allelujah. I say black comedy because that’s my best guess as to the genre this film was aiming for. But unfortunately, not even the talented cast could save this film from delivering a storyline that has been done numerous times before (and better) on television, in a way that felt both shallow and frankly insulting, all at the same time.

#movie review #film review #movie list #film #movie #2023 #best films #best films of 2023 #year in review #2023 year in review #2023 recap #2023 wrap up #movies of the year

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pctcr · 3 years

Text

still you

hello!!!! how are you all? i missed you!!! this fic idea came from my overactive brain after seeing nwh but i apologize if someone’s written this idea already. but please enjoy and beware there ARE spoilers in this for the end of the movie. be safe out there! love u all! if u want to submit a request ur more than welcome to. my inbox and dms are open as always.

this is also unedited, so excuse any mistakes. i’ll be editing it later :)

enjoy!

prompt: Peter swears he’ll come back to find you, but you decide to leave yourself a clue just in case.

word count: 5160

“No, no, no, no..” You say, and you can’t quite think of anything else to say. All you want to say is ‘no’.

“[Name], it’s the only way, I-” Peter frowns, the tears in his eyes welling up more now. “I’m sorry.”

“We can think of another plan,” MJ tries to interject and you nod rapidly, agreeing with her.

Peter shakes his head, the tears in his eyes finally sliding down his cheeks. He reaches out for Ned, hugging him and doing their handshake. You feel terrible that Ned is about to forget all of the best parts of their friendship, and so is MJ. Peter hugs her next, promising her and Ned that he will come back for us, all of us.

And then he turns to you, his face contorts into something you’d seen before - the pain of loss that you’ve seen with Tony and with May, but it hurts even more now knowing he’s looking at you.

“Please, Peter, I can’t do this without you. I-I want you, I need you in my life and what if I don’t react the way you want and you lose me and I lose you-”

Peter cuts off your rambling by pulling you into a hug, hating the way you start to cry on his shoulder. He eventually pulls back and leans his forehead on yours. “I will find you. I will make you remember, I promise, [Name].”

You sniff, closing your eyes and forcing the tears out of your eyes. “I love you, Peter and-and I’m sure that I’ll be feeling it even if I don’t know you yet.”

Peter pulls his forehead back a bit and nods. “[Name], I-”

You shake your head. “Tell me when you see me again, please. Tell me then.”

Peter stares and nods again, finally bridging the gap between you two and kisses you. It hurts knowing this was going to be the last kiss you guys would share when you were fully you. Without these memories, without him, you weren’t you. The idea of that was terrifying.

He pulls back after a few moments, reaching up to touch your cheek with a gloved hand. “I promise, okay?”

You nod and watch as he gives Strange the signal and jumps down and disappears out of sight. You look up to the sky, seeing the spell writing itself in the air. “Fuck,” you mumble, trying to think of a way to keep your memories, even partially. You feel your pockets and only come up with a receipt from a customer you forgot to throw away. An idea pops into your head - write it down. “Ned, MJ, do either of you have a pen on you?”

MJ shakes her head no, but Ned produces a pen out of his jacket pocket. You quickly take it and write down on the back of the receipt: ‘Peter Parker loves you.’ You hand the pen back and tuck the note into your pocket, hoping that future, memory-less you will find it.

—

You wake in the morning with a start, sitting up quickly in bed. You sigh softly, running a hand through your messy bedhead hair in a vain attempt to get it to look a little presentable. Ever since last week, you’ve been feeling kinda down. You can’t seem to pinpoint why - your friends are all good, you all got into college, and your grades are on the rise. What could be throwing you off?

You shrug it off and get ready for work, slipping on your uniform shirt and jeans. You grab your jacket from the back of your desk chair, it’s a bit chilly this morning and you figure you’d want a light one to keep warm. You set the jacket on the kitchen table and make yourself breakfast, eating fairly quickly and tugging your jacket on afterwards. You brush your teeth and brush through your hair before leaving, locking the door behind you.

The walk to your job is an easy one, only a few blocks down. You roll your shoulders to release the tension from sleeping, settling your hands into the pockets of the jacket. You feel a piece of paper in the right pocket and pull it out. You unfold it, realizing it’s a receipt from your workplace and as you’re passing a trash can, you go to throw it away. When the wind picks up a bit, it makes the receipt turn over and you see writing on the underside. You pause, moving off to the side to not get in anyone’s way and turn the receipt over.

You see your own handwriting and it reads: ‘Peter Parker loves you.’ You’re confused. When did you write this, why did you write this, and who the hell is Peter Parker?

You took a moment to ponder the reasons for this, but you have to get to work, so you put the note back in your jacket and make your way to work.

When you arrive, Ned and MJ are already there, sitting on the other side of the table on barstools. You smile warmly at them, making your way behind the counter and clocking in. “Hey guys, what’s up?”

“Just waiting for you. We were planning on seeing a movie tonight after you get off, do you want to come?” MJ asks, leaning over the counter to grab a sugar for her coffee.

You look over at the door when you hear the bell, signifying a customer has walked in. You nod at MJ. “Sure, I’d love to.” You smile, grabbing a piece of parchment paper and grabbing two glazed donuts and setting them in front of the two of them. You let out a breath and turn to look at the customer, stepping away from your friends and approaching the register. The guy that walked in looks a little distraught and your customer service smile drops a little. “Hey, what can I get for you?” You ask.

He’s holding a piece of paper in his hands and he glances down at it. “Um, hello. I’m uh, Peter.”

You nod slowly. “Hi, Peter… Is that the name for an order or-”

“No, no. I… I’m…” He starts to stutter over his words and he looks unsure. “I’m Peter Parker.”

Your eyes widen a little, trying not to alarm him. “Peter Parker?” You repeat and he nods. You expect him to continue, but he doesn’t - He stares at you and you stare back. Your heart is pounding. Who is this guy and why do you have a note in your pocket that he loves you? You don’t even know him! “Um, did you… want to order anything?”

Peter nods. “Right, right! Coffee, please.”

You nod and turn, grabbing a small cup from the holder and pour his coffee from the pot, putting a lid on it and setting it on the counter. “Peter Parker?” You call and he whips his head around and walks over.

“Sorry, I-I was just looking at the posters.” He says, taking the coffee. He pulls out a 5 dollar bill and you shake your head. You feel your heart racing as you attempt to figure out what to say to him. How do you bring up that receipt? How do you ask if you know him when you don’t? You feel overwhelmed by his presence, like there’s something about him that makes you feel like you’re missing something.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just a small. I, uh…” You trail off, feeling Ned and MJ’s eyes on you, as well as Peter’s, as you struggle to come up with something to say. Instead of saying anything, you grab a napkin and a pen from the cup behind the counter and write down your number. You fold the napkin and hand it to him.

Peter looks between your hand and you before slowly taking it. “Thanks.” He says in a soft voice, smiling at you before walking out.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears and your face is warm. You turn back to Ned and MJ, who are staring at you incredulously.

“What was that?” Ned asks as you approach.

You shrug, trying to come up with a lie. “He was cute so I figured-”

“You never do that!” MJ protests, leaning onto the counter. “Even with other customers, you always refused to. What was up with that?”

You sigh deeply. “You guys are gonna think it’s weird.”

“I’m a fan of weird,” Ned says confidently, taking a bite of his donut. “Show us.”

You look between the two of them. These are your best friends, they’ll trust you. You grab your jacket from under the counter and pull out the receipt from the pocket. “I found this in my pocket today and I figured it was nothing, just trash, but…” You flip it over and set it on the table, sliding it towards them.

MJ looks at it and then back up at you. “Who wrote this?”

“Me, it’s my handwriting.” You point at the writing. “I always write the word you like this and… I don’t remember writing this. I didn’t even know who Peter Parker was until just now. He walked in and announced his name, like… What was that?”

Ned and MJ share a glance and they shrug. “I have no idea, [Name],” Ned says. “It’s weird, I’ll give you that, but this does look like your writing.”

“So, you gave him your number because of this?” MJ asks and you nod.

“I just want to figure out what’s going on. I assume maybe he knows something at least and if he contacts me, I’ll ask.” You say, shrugging a little. “I mean, the whole time he was here my heart was racing.”

Ned picks up the receipt and reads it over again. “Love is a strong word, you know? That’s what’s throwing me off here - if you don’t know him, how could he love you?”

“That’s what I’m saying, I don’t know.” You reply, taking the receipt when he hands it back. You tuck it back into your jacket pocket. “Hopefully he texts or calls.”

“I agree,” MJ says. “Maybe the movie will take your mind off of it for a little.”

“I hope so,” You smile a little. The doorbell rings again and you walk back to the register to continue your shift.

—

The rest of your shift was plagued with thoughts of the note and Peter himself. Who was he? How does he love you? Why did he tell you his full name? None of it made sense and it’s making your heart hurt.

You meet Ned and MJ at the theatre later that night. You still feel a bit strange from the encounter you had with Peter earlier, but you try to ignore it while the three of you wait in line for snacks.

“[Name].” Ned says, gently nudging you with his arm.

“Yeah?” You respond, looking at him.

“He’s here,” He tilts his head to the right of you.

Your heart instantly starts beating rapidly and you turn slowly, pretending to be observing the various posters around the theater before you see him. He’s wearing the same outfit as earlier today and you pause, locking gazes with him. “He’s looking at me.” You mumble under your breath.

“Why are you staring back?” Ned hisses in response and you shoot him a look.

“I don’t know, Ned, I wonder why.” You reply sarcastically. “Do I go over there?”

“I don’t think he’ll kill you or anything in a crowded theater.” MJ says. “Go for it, we’ll watch to be sure.”

You nod and slowly approach him. He walks towards you as well, stopping a couple steps from you. “Um, hi.” You say, giving him a small smile. Your hands slightly tremble and you tuck them in the pockets of your jacket to prevent him from seeing. Your fingers feel the piece of receipt paper in your pocket and you breathe deeply. This is something you have to do.

“Hey,” He replies. “I swear I wasn’t stalking you or anything I just- I was going to text you and then I remembered you were going to see a movie and I thought maybe I should and now it looks like I followed you here.”

You nod slowly. “I figured you overheard that or something. I don’t think you stalked me for some reason. Gut feeling, maybe?”

Peter smiles a little. “I’m glad to hear that.” His hands are in his pockets, too, and you briefly wonder if he’s nervous too.

You feel your cheeks heat up a little and you curse softly. “Listen, Peter, I uh- I was wondering if sometime tomorrow we could… get coffee or lunch or something?”

This time, his face lights up and he smiles. “Uh, yeah! Definitely yeah, uh, what time?”

“You can text me whenever, I gotta get back to my friends. They’re almost at the register.” You say, gesturing behind you in the direction of the snack area.

“Right, right.” He nods quickly. “I’ll uh, text you! Yeah, I’ll do that.”

You nod. “Alright. See you, Peter.”

“Yeah, see you, [Name].” He responds and you pause. Did you ever tell him your name? He must sense your confusion because he tacks on: “Your nametag.”

“Oh,” You say in understanding and give him a small wave, returning to your friends. It hits you after you’ve sat down in the theater that you didn’t put your nametag on today.

—

“Are you sure this is a good idea, [Name]?” MJ asks, sitting across from you in your bedroom as you hold your phone, awaiting a text.

You shrug, setting your phone down on your desk. “I mean, he knew my name, MJ. I wasn’t wearing my nametag and he still knew it. If I only took that into consideration-”

“-100% stalking.” MJ cuts in and you nod.

“However, the note. I wrote that. Combining that with him knowing my name is just too weird and I need to get to the bottom of it. Plus, if it ends up being a stalker, I know his name and I’ll have his number. Easy to report, right?”

MJ shrugs. “I suppose that’s true. The note really is weird.”

“I agree,” you say, glancing at your jacket sitting on your bed. “I want to know what’s going on and I have a feeling he knows.”

“What do you even think could be going on?” She asks.

You shake your head. “No idea.” As you finish your sentence, your phone buzzes on the desk, alerting you of a new message. You exchange a glance with MJ and pick up your phone, unlocking it.

A new text message from an unknown number reads: ‘Hey! It’s Peter.’

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Do I just say hey back?”

MJ nods. “Go for it.”

You reply with a simple ‘hey’. The wait till the next message is barely a minute. It says: ‘Does meeting at two work for you? We could get a late lunch.’

“Do you think I should?” You ask, looking up from the texts to MJ.

She ponders for a moment before nodding. “I’ll get Ned to come with me and we can watch you from a far booth or something. Make sure you’re okay.”

You smile. “Aw, I love you, MJ. Thanks for backing me up on this,”

She smiles back. “Yeah, yeah. I’d wanna know what was going on too if I were you. Even now, I still wanna know what’s going on.”

You nod, sending a simple ‘sure’ back to him. He responds with an address for a diner. You look it up to be sure - It is a diner, a family-owned one a little outside of the city. You respond with a thumbs up to let him know that place is fine.

You wonder what is going to happen that night as you fall asleep, the only thing you can think about being that note.

—

You sit with Ned and MJ at a booth in the diner the next day. You all arrived an hour before your set meet time with Peter to talk about what the plan is going to be.

“I say MJ and I sit in that booth in the corner. Make sure he’s not facing us and we can go from there.” Ned says, sipping on the soda he ordered earlier.

MJ nods in agreement. “That sounds like a good enough plan.”

You sigh, anxiousness filling your body. “I’m pretty nervous about this. I mean, how do I bring this up? Like… Oh, by the way, apparently you love me… according to me… but I have no idea who you are.”

Ned shrugs. “I have no idea.”

“I have no ideas either,” MJ adds. “I mean, you have to bring it up some time, but I’m not sure how.”

You nod. “I know and I want to. I just have to figure out how.” You glance down at your phone, seeing a new message from Peter. “He says he’s on his way, two minutes. You guys should go to your booth.”

They both nod and move to the far booth. You change seats so you’re facing their direction and Peter wouldn’t be. He arrives not long after you situate, spotting you and sliding into the seat across from you.

“Hey, how are you?” He asks with a smile, opening up the menu that was in front of him to browse it.

“I’m alright. You?” You ask, watching him carefully. You don’t feel like he’s going to hurt you at all actually, but your heart's still racing. You have no idea why.

“I’m okay,” Peter says and for some reason, you can tell he's lying. You decide not to push it, though, and take a sip of your water. “So, what’s up? What did you want to meet for?”

You take a moment to breathe deeply and attempt to calm your heart. “I have no idea how to tell you this.”

Peter tilts his head, a look of confusion on his face. “Tell me… what?”

“I uh…” You can feel the receipt boring a hole in your pocket. “I think you’re um… cute.” You blurt out and internally cringe. How stupid is that?

Peter’s cheeks turn red. “Oh, uh, thanks. I uh, think you are, too, if… yeah. You too.” He finally says.

You feel yourself blushing too and you will it to go away. “Sorry, that wasn’t what I wanted to say. Not that you aren’t! I just…” You sigh, burying your face in your hands in an attempt to ground yourself. You have to get the answers for this stupid situation and the stupid note. “I think you know me.” You finally settle on saying.

Peter’s eyes widen a bit. “What? I mean, I know your name but-”

You nod. “Yeah, that’s part of it. I wasn’t wearing a nametag yesterday and at the theater you said my name.”

“You weren’t?” Peter asks quickly. “I guess I-I must have seen your name somewhere or-”

“And…” You cut him off, slowly pulling the piece of paper out of your pocket. You sigh deeply and place it on the table, pushing it towards him.

He looks between the paper and you a few times before pulling it closer to read it. Peter stares at the receipt, picking it up and reading it again.

“I found it in my jacket yesterday. It’s my handwriting and I don’t remember writing it. I didn’t even know who you were until you came into the shop yesterday and-” You realize you’re rambling and stop, composing your thoughts before continuing. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

Peter stares. He stares at you for so long you start to get a little unnerved. “I… [Name], it’s going to sound crazy. I want you to know that before I… You don’t have to believe me but I’m really hoping you do.”

You want to believe him, so you nod. “Go for it.”

Peter lets out a long sigh and puts the receipt down. “I do know you.” He clarifies. “I have known you for a long time and what you wrote here,” He points to the receipt. “Is true. It sounds so unbelievable but I… I did. I do.”

You feel something unidentifiable. “What?” You ask. “I mean, how-”

“Let me finish, please.” He speaks softly. “Something really bad happened. It was all my fault and-and I had to make everyone, including you, forget me. It was the only way. I promised you that I’d come and find you. But… It seems like you wanted to be sure.”

You don’t know how to feel. You believe him, you know that. There’s no other way to describe what’s going on and you feel… safe believing him. “So, the reason for the note was so I… didn’t have to wait on you to come find me?”

Peter nods. “I’m not really surprised you did it. It sounds like you.”

You take a second to think it over. You would, realistically, in the situation that he’s describing, do something like this. If it was happening to MJ and Ned, you probably would try to leave yourself a clue. “I suppose it does,” you agree.

“I’m sorry,” Peter says. “I didn’t want it to go this way. I was hoping to just… build a friendship enough to tell you but…”

“It’s alright.” You say. “I… I believe you, Peter.”

“Really?” His face lights up.

“Yeah, I think so. I feel… When you walked into the shop, your presence felt familiar. I don’t know how, though, but I guess I do now.” You respond.

Peter nods and smiles at you. “I don’t expect you to…” He trails off.

You understand immediately. “Peter, I have never really been through anything like this before. I don’t think anyone has.”

“Right,” He agrees.

“But,” you say. “If I… wrote that and… Did I love you then? When I wrote it?”

“Yes,” Peter says almost immediately. “Yes, you did. You told me before you forgot.”

“Then I think I owe it to you and… me to try.” You finally say.

“Try?” He asks.

“Try to remember and… if not, you know, we can just go about it organically.” You respond, giving him a soft smile. “Whatever happens, happens. I have a feeling what happens is meant to.”

Peter smiles at you, genuine and happy, it seems. “Sounds good to me.”

—

It’s been a few months since the initial incident of the note and Peter telling you that you two used to be inseparable. Much to your delight, though, it became true again.

After the first initial meeting, you two texted a lot. It was mostly you asking him questions about himself. He told you that he would ask you the same ones, but he already knew the answers.

Part of you felt bad. You could tell how much Peter cared for and loved you in the weeks you were getting to re-know him. It made you feel good and it patched the hole in your life that formed in the weeks between forgetting him and now, but you couldn’t help but feel that you weren’t the same you Peter was used to.

“Hey, Pete?” You ask one day when the two of you are sitting in his apartment. He’s working on something on his computer when you ask and he turns his chair around.

“Yeah?” He says, offering you a small smile.

“I… feel bad.” You start.

“Like sick? Can I get you something?” Peter asks.

“No, no. Sorry, I… like I feel bad emotionally.” You say and Peter’s face drops. “I don’t know how to.. describe it but I feel bad that I’m not the you that you know, right? And that… this isn’t how it used to be and you probably want how it used to be and I just feel bad.”

Peter moves from his chair and sits next to you on his bed. “[Name], you are the you I know. You still make the same jokes, you react the same ways I feel you would. Nothing about you is different, just the state of our relationship. My relationship with Ned and MJ, too. They’re still them and you’re still you.”

“But Peter the me you knew loved you and… we had such a complicated, long relationship and I feel sorry that this isn’t that.” You frown.

“[Name].” Peter says, placing a hand on your shoulder lightly, giving you the option to move away from the touch but you don’t. You don’t want to. “You giving me the chance is more than I could have asked for. I knew the risks when I had everyone forget. I knew what was going to happen.”

“I want to love you again.” You whisper. “I do, I really do. But I do know that I…” You pause, turning to face him properly.

“You know what?” He asks, his voice quiet. Peter’s eyes are beautiful. You’re sure that in the past you got lost in them and it’s happening even now.

“That I feel something. That… I…” You let out a small laugh. “I want to kiss you.”

“Really?” Peter asks, looking between your eyes and your lips.

You nod.

Peter slowly moves his hand from its place on your shoulder to your cheek. You lean into the touch, deciding to copy his touches. Your hand fits perfectly on his cheek and you slowly move it down to his neck, feeling his goosebumps under your fingertips.

When Peter finally closes the gap and your lips touch, it feels so familiar. You missed this without even knowing you had it to miss. You melt into the kiss, inching closer to him and trying to pull him closer too.

The two of you kiss for what seems like hours. By the end, your cheeks are hot and your lips are a little swollen. “Yeah,” you say, a smile on your face as you press your forehead to Peter’s. “I could definitely get used to that.”

—

You tug your shoes off as you enter Peter’s apartment, placing them in their usual spot next to his. “Listen, I know that you’re crazy and need, what, 7 pumps of vanilla in your disgusting coffee but-”

“It’s two, [Name]. You’re being dramatic.” Peter responds, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack near the door.

“I am not being dramatic!” You protest, gently pushing him aside with your shoulder to hang your jacket up too. He steps back a few times, as if you really shoved him hard.

“You’re being violent now.” He says, a smile on his face.

“I will always become violent over your choices in coffee. It’s so nasty, especially since you get so much milk! There is no coffee taste!”

He groans, moving towards you and shoving his face in between your shoulder and cheek. “It tastes like coffee, I swear.” Peter says softly, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“Do not try to distract me from how terrible your taste in coffee is!” You say, dramatically, but make no moves to push him away. Instead, you wrap your arms around his frame and rock the both of you back and forth in place.

Peter hums in content, wrapping his arms around you as well. “Can we lay down, [Name]?”

“If you apologize,” You reply, kissing the top of his head as you stop rocking the both of you.

“For what?” He asks, playing dumb, pulling back from his previous position but not removing his arms from around you.

You narrow your eyes in an attempt to feign anger. “You know what for.”

Peter chuckles. “I will apologize for the fact that you are so upset by my coffee choices but I will not be apologizing for the coffee itself. I enjoy my lattes.”

“I despise you,” You say, leaning in and kissing him briefly. “So much.”

“Oh, really?” He laughs, pulling away and grabbing your hand, leading you to the couch. The both of you settle in your usual positions. He lays with you in between his legs, your back pressed up to his chest and his arms sitting over yours. Apparently this is how you used to lay before and the thought that this was familiar to him made you feel good.

Several episodes of TV later have you closing your eyes and only listening. The soft rise and fall of Peter’s chest is luring you to sleep and as you feel yourself starting to doze off, he starts to whisper to you.

“You make me feel incredibly lucky,” he says softly, running his hand lightly along your arms. “I had no idea if you’d… want to be with me again, genuinely, that was terrifying. I’m so glad you let me in and… fuck, [Name], I’ll always love you. I’m never letting anything like that happen again.”

Your heart is swelling with happiness. You feel so strongly for Peter and it’s becoming increasingly clearer that past you really did love him and… present you does too. You weren’t sure if you wanted to tell him yet but his little speech makes it incredibly hard not to. So, you do.

“I love you, too.” You whisper back.

“WHAT?” Peter yells, nearly pushing you off of him with how quickly he reacts. You grip the backside of the couch to prevent you from falling off. “You were awake? Your breathing was steady, you-you-”

“I was about to.” You protest. “Then you started talking so I listened.”

Peter stares at you in shock. “You… You heard that? And-and-”

“Yeah, Peter. I did.” You respond.

“You love me?” He asks, his voice small.

“I would be stupid not to, you big sap. C’mon, let’s lay in bed. My back will hurt if we actually sleep out here.” You say, moving to stand and holding out your hand for Peter.

He instantly takes it, following you into the bedroom and flops into the bed, dragging you down with him. “I can’t believe you said it.”

“Why’s that so unbelievable? I did before,” You say, nudging more into his space. Peter moves his arm to rest on your waist.

“It’s not unbelievable, just still a bit shocked.” He says softly, moving his hand up and down your waist.

“Well,” you smile while leaning in. “I…” You pause, kissing his forehead. “Love…” You move down a little and kiss his nose. “You.” You finish, pressing a kiss to his lips to finish. When you pull back, you expect a smile, but are met with tears. “Are you okay?”

“[Name].” He whispers, moving his hand up to your cheek. “You used to do that all the time,”

You smile happily. “I did?”

“You did,” Peter replies, gently rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb.

“I guess I am still me after all.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #tom holland #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman no way home #reader insert

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night-market-if · 2 years

Note

Ma'am how the hell do you think of plot, write and code so fricking fast

Short answer: All my free time is dedicated to this WIP.

Long answer: I have wanted to write for a living for longer than I can remember at this point. Now that it is happening, I have no desire to stop.

Okay, so I have a pretty strict writing schedule that I keep myself to. It is one that makes me sacrifice some sleep and evenings with my husband and teens but I figure, I am kind of doing this for them. For our family. So that is what I have to do for now.

As for the coding, I keep my codes to a minimum. I am much more focused on expanding routes, which yes, requires more writing, but I feel like it gives everything a lot more replayability.

Also, I may just be in a habit at this point. I am a stay at home mother. I started doing text rp's with @mooreaux during covid because I needed something that gave me a little bit more thought process during the long days with the babies. The thousands upon thousands of words we have written together is such a part of my day to day that implementing this amount of writing into my life is not too terrible.

Now, for plot? I am lucky. I am hands down lucky. I am waiting for the writers block and when it happens, oooooh I think it is going to hit hard.

Do I think I can keep up this kind of schedule forever? I don't know. But I'm not burnt out yet. I'm not stressed. It is such a creative release for my overactive brain to do this that it feels a bit effortless at times. Because here's the thing, if you want something badly enough, I think you just do it. There's not a question of how, it just is something that happens. That being said, I watch practically no TV, barely have time to read, and only have one night a week where I am spending time with friends. There are trade offs. I am just hoping it is worth it all in the end.

🪷✨🪷✨ If you want to support me 🪷 ✨🪷✨

Demo 🌿 Patreon 🌿 Ko-fi

#the night market #answering your asks #i may have no life #i'm enjoying this though #i have wanted to write for a living for over two decades

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sappynapper · 3 years

Text

Sweet dreams - Dreamwastaken x gn!reader fluff oneshot

reader is too anxious to sleep but dream can help with that 😌

cw: descriptions of stress/anxiety, tiredness, not being able to sleep, hurt/comfort, a near lethal dose of fluff?, author prefers writing in bullet points and is very tired but they tried

You had so many deadlines coming up and the stress of constant work was beginning to take a toll. So, even though you knew it was a terrible idea, you had downed one too many monsters that evening in an effort to get everything done.

Hours of struggling through the last of the day’s tasks crawled past, and now you were finally done. Your brain hadn’t got the message, however, and you remained jittery and anxious as you stumbled blearily around the bedroom you shared with your boyfriend, Dream, getting ready for bed.

Dream was still in his office and you hovered in the middle of the bedroom, considering going in to see if he was almost done. You could really use his company right now, he always knew how to get you out of your head and prevent a spiral. But you didn’t want to risk interrupting him if someone was streaming, the internet didn’t know about you yet and you’d both like to keep it that way as long as possible.

You sighed, deciding against disturbing him, perching on the edge of your bed instead, bouncing your leg and tugging on the sleeve of your sweatshirt absently. Despite being dead on your feet, the idea of lying down in the dark and trying to sleep filled you with dread as your endless to-do list cycled through your head. The indecision froze you and you stayed sat there trying to figure out what to do.

And that’s how Dream found you almost an hour later once he’d wrapped everything up for the night. It had been a later one than usual and he was fully expecting you to have knocked out already, so he was glad to see you sat up waiting for him at first. But he quickly noticed the tension in your shoulders and the anxiety in your eyes as you turned to look at him.

“Hi” you greeted him in a small voice.

“Hey baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, frowning slightly as he padded over to the bed, sinking down next to you.

“My head’s too full to sleep. I can’t turn my brain off.” you explained, offering a small smile as he cupped your face in his hand, tracing his thumb gently over your cheek.

Dream hummed in acknowledgment. Both of you had trouble with overactive brains every now and then. Normally he’d suggest pulling an all nighter and fixing your sleep schedule that way, but he can see how worn out you are, can sense how desperately you just want to rest. So, instead, he just pulls you into his arms, letting you push your face into his chest and breathe him in. That familiar combination of his laundry powder and body wash flooding your brain with comfort. His steady breathing and the feeling of safety you get from being wrapped up in him like this calms you down immediately. The anxious thoughts rushing through your head begin to slow a little and the feeling that you might cry builds up in the back of your throat.

"You're ok, angel." He tells you, squeezing you lightly, "Everything will seem easier in the morning." You just nod against him. "Why don't we lie down and you can tell me all about it? Hmm?" You thought for a moment, trying to steady your breathing.

"'m too tired to talk. Jus' wanna hear 'bout you. Think about somethin' else." You mumble and Dream smiles.

"Ok sweetheart, lie down with me, yeah?"

"Ok." You murmur and you feel Dream pulling you down on top of him before dragging the comforter over both of you.

Once the two of you are settled he starts talking about nothing in particular in a low voice. Just rambling about the code he’s working on and this interesting thing that karl said earlier and what you guys can have for breakfast in the morning. The rumbling vibrations in his chest make you melt even further into him, and he rubs soothing circles into your back with one hand, the other resting at the nape of your neck.

He feels you slowly relax against him, eventually looking down and seeing you’re fast asleep, mouth slightly parted as you huff out little breaths against his chest. He grins at the adorable sight, heart swelling with the knowledge that you could feel so safe in his arms. After a while, he drifts off as well, and when you wake up the next morning to sunlight streaming through a gap in the curtains and your boyfriend still cradling you to his chest, you find that really there's not much you need to worry about, just like he said.

a/n: this was gonna be hcs for when you can't get to sleep with each of the crew boys but the dream simp in me popped off i guess. shall i do another post with the hcs for the others tho?

#dreamwastaken x reader #dream x reader #mcyt x reader #dream fluff

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shardofhope-fanfic · 2 years

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Hello! Welcome to my brand new, and extra stupid Tumblr! I figured if I was on twitter, I also should post my stories somewhere that would raise my blood pressure a little less. As this is my first post, I figured I should create a master post of my Omori Fanficiton with all the links to A03 for your connivence! This will be updated as more things are written, changed, ect.

My main page, however, can be found HERE

If you want to support my writing, and perhaps throw me some money for rat treats, I have a Ko-fi! You can find that HERE

Finished long form works.

Mari Suzuki's Overly Busy Afterlife. (Alt Cannon/Universe, Mari lives, sorta)

Mari never left Sunny after the accident. She forgave him and promised she would stay until he was ready to tell the truth. Until he was strong enough.

Four years of staying with her gremlin shut in brother has made her slightly regret that promise. Well, more then slightly.

A retelling with a ghost, and a brother with no survival instinct.

Their Time (Post Bad End/Heavy)

Sunny thought he had the strength to tell them and live on after beating Omori. He was wrong. He flung himself off the roof, so he could die without hurting his friends any longer. He was wrong in two respects.

One, they all saw him do it.

And two, he had been falling for several hours.

Now two endings, for your preference.

Featuring an OST created by the lovely Herolich2, which can be found at the bottom of every chapter.

Long term works still in progress.

Dread hunt (Post true ending/ Monster hunting AU)

Sunny told the truth and left Faraway in the dust, never intending to return. With the truth out, he was free. However, something followed from his former home, intending on finishing the job it started.

However, instead Sunny gains a new purpose. After all...

If it bleeds, it can be killed. And Sunny intends to end Something, if it's the last thing he will ever do

Culinary Conversations (Post true ending/ fluffy with supernatural elements)

Sunny is trying his best, he really is. But his own overactive imagination continues to haunt him, even after the Omori was defeated. The road to recovery is long and hard, but for right now he just wants to finish cooking his fried rice.

However, there is an imp in his kitchen telling him that life isn't worth living. What did he do to deserve this?

One shot's and Short Finished works.

Garden Raiding For Fun and Polyamo-profit. (Goofy poly fic)

Sunny and Kel have been happily dating for almost two years now, and things are going amazing! Sunny however, has felt something missing, and has sought to fix that Issue. However, letting Kel plan was perhaps not the best idea in the world.

Meanwhile, someone is trying to break into Basil's house at 3 am. He should be more worried, but he gets distracted.

Sunny the Trash Mammal (A Crack stuffed, 20K word sunflower pile of absurd words. With Cotton Candy, for flavor.)

What happens when you chicken out of confessing so many times, your brain wants to strangle you? You get turned into a odd rat hybrid by your head roommate of course.

Cursed with Rat features and traits until he confesses to Basil, Sunny must fight his newfound instincts, as well as hide his new affliction. Surely nothing can go wrong....Right?

Mari Prays The Gay Away (Homophobic satire and crack. Not to be taken seriously, at all.)

Mari was always the golden child, despite her many, many flaws. Like her gullibility combined with her own narcissism. So when she gets honey potted by an absurdly hot and absurdly religious redhead, she returns home on spring break with a unique viewpoint. Upon returning home, and facing many temptations, prays a bit too hard. she must now retrieve them from the depths of hell, not because it's the right thing to do, but for her own benefit.

(Or in which, Mari accidentally sends anyone not straight right to hell, and is tasked with retrieving them.)

TW: Homophobia, Mild Racism, and a lot of conservative bullshit. (all played for laughs, and showing how batshit most of it is.)

School Speedrun (Post Cannon fluff/Crackfic)

The gang takes far too long to realize that Sunny has been ditching school in his new town to hang out at Basil's house. They think he's a delinquent.

They are wrong.

We're Hosed. (Pre-cannon fluff and childhood stupidity.)

Roused from his sugar coma on their Halloween sleepover, Basil pleads for Sunny to fix his leaky bathroom faucet. As it's driving the blonde nuts. Should be easy, right?

Poly Pillowtalk (Fluffy, Post cannon one bed fic)

The gang kidnaps Sunny to spend Christmas with them. However, a blizzard settles in and they only managed to get a room with one bed. An argument ensues, both sure that they are the object of interest. Turns out Sunny was more sneaky than they thought.

A challenge my wonderful SO. Merry Christmas you degenerate.

Sunny is GAS-LIT by some fucking fruits (A stupid little Drabble)

Sunny can't put his finger on it, but something is up. All his friends were always girls...right?

A silly little one-shot made to poke fun of another story on here... Also, Hero is named Pita, for reasons.

Dumpster Diveing for Love. (Crack Pairing for a friend)

Sweetheart had everything, except sprout moles that could get her the correct flavor of chips. While she's doing it herself, she spots a rather strange specimen and finds herself fascinated.

A little gift for my dear friend Priska (AKA LoveingLetters)

ON HIATUS (Until further notice)

Wander Forth And Carry On (Post True ending with a strange new Headspace)

#omori fanfic #omori game #omori sunburn #omori sunflower #omori fanart #a03 link #fanfic

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free-pool-trash · 3 years

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everything - peter maximoff

PART 2 TO DISAPPOINTMENT (you can read it on its own but it might be a tiny bit confusing)

hey guys, i missed peter and i hope this makes you guys feel better abt the first part of this fic <33

comments/reblogs/asks always appreciated <3

word count: 4k

warnings: angst, panic attack, fluff, probably some mistakes its 3:33am 😩✋🏻

summary: peter comes to your new reality <3

masterlist

His fingers drummed rapidly against the metal table located in the jet hanger, beneath the basketball court. Hank waited too, although, the beast was considerably calmer than Peter was at the moment.

“The radio has been quiet for like twenty minutes… do you think something went wrong?” Peter forced the words out in quick succession as he gnawed on his lips.

Hank sighed as that was the fourth time Peter had asked that question, every five minutes for the past twenty minutes- like clockwork, he’d asked Hank the same thing. The only varient was that the question started with, “It’s been five minutes...,” then, “It’s been ten minutes…,” to, “it’s been fifteen minutes…”

Hank understood that the boy was nervous, he was too, afterall Peter wasn’t the only one with a girlfriend on the uncharacteristically sketchy mission. However, if Peter asked him the same question one more time, he’d turn blue out of annoyance.

“Peter, I’m begging you to stop asking. They’re probably fine, the mutant’s energy surges probably just fried the radio,” Hank explained, trying to sound convincing for his and Peter’s peace of mind.

Peter gaped in response, “And that doesn’t worry you?”

Hank threw his head back with exhaustion and groaned, “Of course it does,” he started, running his hands down his face before continuing, “But stressing out about it isn’t going to do anyone any good. All we can do is wait for them to get back,” he finished, fixing Peter with a stern look as he’d began to bounce his knee relentlessly- annoyingly.

His fingers drumming faster than the human eye could see, his knee jolting at a similar speed, a feeling of unmistakable dread had started forming in the boy’s stomach, and no amount of finger tapping or knee bouncing could make it go away.

He had a feeling in his gut, one that he wouldn’t be able to back up with any type of logic or reason, but regardless, he had a feeling seated deep in the pit of his stomach that told him, extremely definitely, that something wasn’t right.

As best he could for the next hour and a half, Peter tried to stay quiet. Leaving the hanger to run laps around the basketball court; his attempt at exerting some nervous energy, his attempts were fruitless though as all he could focus on was that feeling in his bones that told him that you, his longtime girlfriend, were in danger. What only served to amplify his anxiety was the fact that if something terrible had indeed happened to you at the hands of the reality jumping mutant; there probably wasn’t much he could do to reverse it.

The conversation he’d shared with you last night rang through his head while he weighed up every possible outcome of your situation, and in conjunction; the situation he could possibly find himself in.

“So say your lovely girlfriend does get sent to an alternate reality… would you follow?” Within a second of your question, Peter had flipped your positions so that your back was against the mattress and the man in question was hovering on top of you with a cheeky grin.

“Sweet cheeks, I’d follow you anywhere.” He told you and you giggled at the stupid pet name before pulling him down to kiss you.

He meant it, he knew he meant it. Peter Maximoff had never been so sure of a fact in his entire existence; he’d follow you anywhere. His issue was that anywhere usually didn’t extend to alternate realities, but to him, if it meant rescuing you, he’d figure out a way to work out the kinks. Peter shook the thoughts from his head, he needed to be rational. You were probably fine, but yet again, he found last night's words echoing in his brain, the promise you’d made rattling around the confines of his head as violently as a screen door during a hurricane.

“Pete…” You whispered, moving your arms to wrap around his neck. “I’m gonna be okay. Raven and Charles will be with me the whole time, we’ll be in and out. I promise.”

When his heart began to beat out of control, he stopped running at lightning speed in favour of leaning against a thick tree adjacent to the basketball court. Aiming to steady his pulse he briefly closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. He thought about you; about how you’d play with his fingers to stop him from drumming them, how you’d cause any and all of his intrusive thoughts to be ejected from his mind when your lips would meet his in surprise kisses, or how you’d drape your arms around his shoulders and rest your cheek against his chest at random times. Those were the small interactions that brought him the greatest amount of serenity. Just as his heartbeat returned to its usual overactive pace, the jet you’d left on earlier was flying overhead.

Peter rushed back to the hanger, nervous energy at an all time high when the jet landed before him and Hank. Peter bounced on the heels of his feet as he waited for you to bound into his arms and pepper kisses all over his face. But that didn’t happen.

Peter’s heart dropped into that familiar pit in his stomach when Raven and Charles stepped out of the plane, looking crestfallen and solemn when their eyes met Peter’s wide, fear filled, brown eyes.

Before anyone could say a word, Peter sped into the plane, unfortunately confirming his suspicions; you weren’t there. Only a second later, the boy was back in his original spot in front of Charles and Raven.

“She better not be where I think she is right now or I swear to God, man-“ Peter began to threaten as Hank let out a shaky breath of disbelief.

“Peter,” Raven placed her hand on his shoulder when he looked like he was about to hyperventilate, Charles had yet to speak, no doubt trying to find an appropriate way to tell a young mutant that the only constant in his life, his only pacer, had been lost on a mission due to his negligence.

“Where is she? Tell me where she is, I’ll go get her I can be there in back in like five minutes just-“ Peter immediately rushed to speak, ignoring Hank’s confused gaze and Charles’ pained grimace.

“Slow down, bud,” Hank voiced when Peter neared the point of vibrating where he stood.

“The mutant, Galan, he said he’d bring her back, if, and only if, we complied with his demands,” Charles started to explain, grimacing again when Raven cut him off rather bluntly.

“But we can’t. His demands are insane.” She glared at Charles as she spoke, she believed that he shouldn’t have even brought up the option in front of Peter, there was absolutely no way they could accept the deranged mutant’s demands, Charles knew that, and Raven hadn’t wanted to give Peter false hope.

“So what?” Peter yelled, anger replacing nervousness. He’d warned them it was a bad idea. You’d warned them it was a bad idea. It could’ve been avoided. Had he been there, he could’ve saved you. “So what, she's just gone? My girl is just gone and what? I’m supposed to just be okay with it?” He seethed, his breath heavy while his chest heaved with rage.

When, after a moment, nobody spoke, Peter shook his head, “Come on you guys… you’re not seriously considering leaving her in some wacked out world all by herself, are you?” His voice sounded pleading, like a child, stripped raw and entirely vulnerable in a way that made them all wish they’d been more careful, hell, even Hank felt guilty and he hadn’t even been there. He, too, had been against the whole mission in the first place, actually.

“We’re really sorry, Peter,” was all Charles said before he exited the room, Raven stayed rooted in place though, at a loss for what to say or do next.

Peter swallowed thickly, his throat closing and his heart pumping at a rapid rate as tears welled in his eyes and oxygen seemed to disappear from his general area when the reality of the situation set in. You were gone, he’d get you back; even if it took him the rest of his life he’d get you back, but right in that moment, you were just gone. He hadn’t heard Hank’s and Raven’s “Woah!”s as the silver haired boy stumbled on his feet, his knees buckling before he had a chance to steady himself. Nor could he hear the gut wrenching rasps that left his mouth as he slipped into a panic attack that would surely result in him passing out.

“Peter,” Raven was in front of his face, but it wasn’t right- no, you were the one who talked him down, not Raven, it wasn’t right. “—you need to calm down, breath—“ her voice was distorted, as if he was hearing her from beneath a surface of water.

The older woman looked to Hank in desperation, he only furrowed his brow and gradually lowered Peter to the ground. He watched as the speedster rasped and muttered, he only managed to pick up a few words, his heart pulling with each one.

Hank rubbed a soothing hand up and down Peter’s back, while Raven prompted him to breath, eventually they managed to get through to the boy, though, Hank could tell it was more a matter of him having worn himself out.

“You’re alright,” Hank tried to soothe but Peter only whimpered.

He sniffled and met Hank’s gaze, hollowly and miserably, his lips quivering as her spoke in a desperate whisper, “I have to get her back, man. I just have to.”

The kettle screeched out a whistle from the kitchen, letting yourself and Wanda know the water was boiled, “I’ll get it,” you told her, you stood from the porch steps, squeezing Wanda’s shoulder on your way in as she gave you a grateful smile.

It’d been a few months since Wanda had sought you out after WestView broke down, you recalled the words she spoke fondly; “You don’t have to be alone. Remember what I said when we first met? We could help each other.”

Of course, you’d agreed to go on the run with her. And true enough, you’d both been extremely helpful to each other. She was a true friend and if nothing else, she was a bright light in the confused foreign world. As much as you adored Wanda, and as much as she adored you, neither of you were so naive as to think you weren’t still swamped in a pool of loneliness, craving for what you’d both respectively lost.

“Wands, was it peppermint you wanted?” You called from the kitchen, grinning slightly when she responded.

“Ya! With honey!” She yelled softly, “Please!”

Dutifully, you made the two cups of tea before returning to your spot next to Wanda on the steps, holding the hot cup between your hands and breathing in the minty steam. The scenery that surrounded you was gorgeous, nothing short of breathtaking. Rolling hills, huge lakes and flower fields that surrounded the cabin gave it the vibe of something plucked right from a storybook. If it was taking yours and Wanda’s story into consideration, you thought, it’d be one tragically dark storybook, but all the good classics were like that, you supposed.

Despite the eye catching backdrop, your mind was elsewhere today, more so than usual.

Wanda’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, “May I ask you something?”

Taking a sip from your tea you gave her an amused smile from over the rim of your ceramic cup, “Always.”

With that, Wanda turned her body to face you and you mirrored her action, then, she tilted her head curiously, “I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a while, but I didn’t want to pry,” she began causing you to snort out a laugh.

“Never stopped you before,” Wanda rolled her eyes, but smiled, continuing to her actual inquiries.

“When we were in WestView, you woke up a few times, but only when the imposter acting as my brother was near you,” you let out a heavy sigh, which stopped her in her tracks. This conversation had been brewing for a while, you could see it in the way Wanda sometimes hesitated before bringing up certain topics.

“In my reality, I have a boyfriend. He’s my everything, really,” you told her, staring blankly out into the fields as you spoke, “We’ve been together since we broke his father out of a high security prison together in ‘73– did I ever tell you that our timelines are different?” You wondered, losing the thread of your thoughts as you recalled the most significant few days of your life that had transpired in 1973, when you and Peter were just eighteen. It was only five years ago for you, but in this reality, the 70s were more than forty years ago.

“You’ve mentioned it,” she reminded you and you nodded, clearing your throat and getting back to the explanation that Wanda was expecting.

“Well, he’s a mutant like me. He’s got super speed, like your Pietro. His birth name is actually Pietro but he hates it, had it changed to Peter when he moved to the states— kids used to pick on him for it,” you explained, laughing lightly, thinking about the way his nose would scrunch up cutely when you’d call him Pietro.

“That man in WestView… he was identical to my Peter and he had the mutation and… his last name is Maximoff so, I don’t know, I guess it made sense that he’d be playing your brother. When we met I thought nobody was ever going to come for me, then I saw him and I was so happy…” Wanda rested a gentle hand on your knee when your face grew mournful.

“I thought he’d come to save me, bring me home, you know? But it wasn’t him at all, just some guy called Ralph Bohner,” you shrugged with a small pout, attempting to diffuse the weight of the confession with a light, humourless chuckle, “Stupid name.”

Wanda fixed you with a genuine smile, “Tell me about him,” she promoted and you sighed, dreamily this time.

“He’s kind, and funny, he makes me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever known— seriously, I could be having the worst day of my life and all he’d have to do is look at me and everything would feel better,” Wanda’s smile widened, she understood, her Pietro had that effect on her too.

“He’s honest, he’s so good hearted but he can be so full of mischief sometimes, he’s a huge prankster back home,” you paused, biting back a smile for a second, then carried on, “He’s got killer taste in music, before we actually started dating he used to lend me his favourite vinyls and make me mixtapes… he used to write crap on the top of the cassettes with black sharpie, like, “kinda cool songs for a sorta cool girl” or, and this is my personal favourite, “songs that make me think of you”, he drew a little winky face so, naturally, I thought it was going to be super cute,” your own laughter cut you off, Wanda’s mingled with yours and she raised her eyebrows.

“And was it?” She asked, chuckling when you shook your head, your smile the widest she’d ever seen it. She couldn’t help but smile too, the more you told her about him, the more she realised he really was just the alternate version of her brother.

“The only song on the whole thing was ‘Let’s Get It On’ by Marvin Gaye!” Wanda threw her head back in laughter, your cheeks hurt from smiling but your heart felt lighter having spoken about the boy you love.

Once she’d stopped laughing, Wanda took you in before speaking the thing she’d been thinking about since you became friends, “You know, I think Pietro would’ve liked you very much,” she joined you in staring off into the fields, “Peter sounds a lot like him.”

“You’d like him, I think,” Wanda nudged her knee against hers and sipped her tea.

“I hope I get to meet him someday,” she stated, causing your tone to dampen ever so slightly as you agreed.

“I hope so too.”

Peter hadn’t slept in weeks, by now, the speedster was running on nothing but twinkies and redbull. He hadn’t gotten a chance to sleep really, he’d left the mansion almost two weeks ago on what he was calling a solo mission. By solo mission he meant; finding the mutant that sent you to another reality and asking him, politely, to just plop him wherever he sent you. He had no return plan, but he knew what the X-Men had planned, well, more specifically Erik. He was going to kill Galan, and if that happened that eliminated every chance Peter had of getting his soulmate back.

Peter made a choice the second he left the mansion, he’d rather be in an alternate reality with you than in this reality without you.

Besides, he was sick of his friends telling him he should “move on”, you’d only been gone six months and everyone was acting like waiting for you was a hopeless waste of time, it was driving him insane.

You were it for him, he wouldn’t move on for as long as he lived and he knew you felt the same, but, regardless of that, he wanted to find you sooner rather than later.

Your side of the bed didn’t smell like you anymore, your favourite blanket (which Peter had shoved in his rucksack that he brought with him) didn’t hold the same warmth as it did when you’d wrap it around his shoulders. To put things simply, missing you was eating him alive.

He was following leads to get to Galan and finally, in a dingy motel in some lesser known area of the south, Peter found him.

“You’re one of the X-Men aren't you? Here to agree to my terms? Took you long enough,” the mutant spoke lowly, his grumbling voice all the more intimidating in the dimly lit room.

Peter stood awkwardly, out of place, while the mutant stared at him expectantly, “Uh, no, actually,” Peter finally managed to choke out after a moment of silence.

Galan scoffed, “Look, like I told your buddies; I’m not bringing the girl back-“

Peter shook his head, cutting Galan off frantically, “I don’t need you to bring her back. I want you to send me to her,” Galan raised a scarred eyebrow at the young man in front of him, he looked like all hell, bags under his eyes so prominent they almost didn’t look real. He had something of a nervous quality about him, Galan thought.

“You’re Quicksilver, am I correct?” Peter simply nodded his head in confirmation and Galan rolled his shoulders, “I gotta admit, it’d be nice to get you out of my way.”

Peter looked at him pleadingly, “So? Will you send me to her?”

Galan nodded his head, there was no downside for him, really. “Don’t see why not. But humour me for a second, kid. What’s so special about this girl?” Galan asked, a smirk on his face that unnerved Peter.

Peter took in a deep breath and looked Galan straight in the eyes, “I love her, she’s sorta my other half. I’m a total loser without her,” Peter tried to sound aloof but his body language and pleading gaze weren’t fooling anyone.

Galan snorted out a laugh, muttering something along the lines of “Ah, young love” but that was the last thing Peter heard before the world around him faded away.

When he came to, all he knew was that he was freezing, which was saying something considering he was nearly always too warm. He jolted into a sitting position, darkness surrounded him and all he could smell was grass and a very faint smell of smoke coming from somewhere in the distance. After a few seconds, Peter’s eyes adjusted to the darkness and all he could gather was that he was somewhere very, very hilly. The noises of wild animals in the distance spurred Peter to get onto his feet and start running.

He ran for maybe one minute until he reached a cozy looking wood cabin. The lights were off but smoke still poured from the chimney.

Too cold and too exhausted to think too much, Peter walked up the porch steps and knocked three times on the door.

“Hey, uh, anyone home?” He called when nobody came to the door after a few minutes. Just as he was contemplating running away a girl he didn’t recognise opened the door. Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung open in shock, Peter wasn’t sure why.

“Come in,” she told him immediately, and again, Peter didn’t question it, the strawberry blonde led him to a sofa and motioned for him to sit down, with a flick of her hand the fire sparked to life and Peter let out a silent breath of relief. Whoever this girl was, she was a mutant like him. “I’ll be- I’ll be right back.”

Wanda practically ran into your room, shaking you awake roughly, a crazed smile on her face like a child on Christmas, “Y/n, wake up!”

You cracked your eyes open with a groan and hid your face against your pillow, “What?” You asked in a whine and Wanda would’ve been endeared by how much of a child you were when you were sleepy, had it not been for the love of your life sitting on your living room sofa.

“Just come on, will you? You’ll sleep better once you see this,” she prompted, you let out a weak groan but threw your duvet off your legs anyway, sluggishly following Wanda into the living room, your fuzzy socks helping you shuffle over the hardwood floors without needing to lift your feet off the ground too much.

“It’s like 3am, Wands, this better be—“ you cut yourself off with a sharp gasp immediately upon seeing him, “Peter?” You asked, this time you had to be sure.

His own eyes widened and before he could even consider giving you a verbal answer, you were completely encompassed by his arms, but that was all the answer you needed.

A choked sob left your lips as you wrapped your arms around him, his back shook and his tears were already soaking through your tee shirt, letting you know he was crying too.

“Y/n,” he muttered against you, pressing feverish kisses all over your face while he took in your appearance, “You’re okay?”

You nodded your head, eyes watery and smile shaky. Yours hands cupped his cheek, your thumbs brushing the tears away from under his tired eyes, “I’m okay.”

Peter’s eyes continued to rack over you, his fatigue catching up to him as your soft thumbs stroked his cheekbones, “When was the last time you slept, Pete?” A sleepy smile formed on his lips at the sound of your voice, he would never be able to articulate how deeply he’d missed you.

“S’been a few weeks,” he answered and your eyes widened.

With a sad smile, you placed a kiss on his cheek before taking both of his hands in your own, “C’mon, you need rest so you can answer all the questions I plan on asking you in the morning.”

Wanda, it seemed, had already slinked back to her own room.

Once you arrived in your bedroom, Peter shimmied out of his jeans before crawling into your warm bed and opening his arms, beckoning you in. You didn’t need any convincing, you happily crawled into bed and let Peter wrap his arms around you as you laid your cheek against his chest.

“I have so many things to say but I’m pretty sure I’m about to pass out,” Peter said softly, squeezing you against him as closely as possible, burying his nose in your hair and sighing gently.

As gently as you could, you leaned up and placed a tender kiss against his lips, “You can say everything you need to say when you wake up.”

“I love you,” Peter whispered, chasing your lips with his languidly, “You’re my everything, you know that?” Of course, you wouldn’t know how much weight the statement held just yet, that didn’t matter to Peter, though. He had you back, the other details didn’t seem so important anymore.

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wandavision x reader #x men x reader #wandavision spoilers #wanda maximoff imagine

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