#and drapes the blanket over him and he's still slightly awake and sees her in it and......oh the word doc is taunting me)

[eksvaized]

Part Twenty Two [ Previous 〡 Next ] ︱AO3 ︱Wattpad ︱ taglist: @kingsprettyangel, @simonsslvt, @herwristsarehercanvas, @the-faceless-bride, @ghostieslove, @bbypionaa i f you want to be added - let me know!

The next morning, a gentle light filters through the curtains, softly illuminating the room. As you slowly awaken around noon, a faint scent of fresh linens lingers in the air. You aren’t surprised that you slept in, but you are surprised to see Simon still asleep beside you. Carefully shifting your body, you feel the warmth of his arm, which had been draped over your waist, slip away. As you do so, the blanket glides against your skin, providing a comforting sensation as you pull it up over your shoulders.

The events of last night replay in your mind like an old film, grainy and distorted, shrouded in a veil of fog. Your memories are muddled and jumbled. But there’s one thing, however, that you remember vividly — the kiss you initiated. You don’t know why you did. At least that is what you try to tell yourself. You also try to rationalize it, to convince yourself that the alcohol made you lose control and do it, that you weren’t thinking clearly. Yet somewhere deep inside, buried beneath layers of denial and self-deception, you know the undeniable truth — you wanted to kiss Simon. Fuck, not only that, but you wanted more, much more. Because after days of feeling numb, empty and hollow, the moment you started to feel different, the moment when happiness started to seep in, when contentment started to fill up the hollow spaces, you couldn’t bear the thought of letting those feelings slip away.

Simon’s lips part, and he mumbles something in his sleep. A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, but you quickly wipe it off, not wanting to give in to the warm fuzzy feeling spreading through your chest.

Eventually, after what seems like an eternity of simply watching Simon sleep, you roll out of the bed. Your body feels as though it has been run over by a truck. All your muscles scream in protest, aching in places you didn’t even know could ache. But, on the bright side, at least the room isn’t spinning anymore, and the world isn’t dancing around you like a sickening carousel.

Planting your feet on the cold floor, the stark contrast between the cozy warmth of the bed and the biting chill of the floor sends an icy jolt up your spine. You slowly get up. As your gaze wanders around, it lands on the window, which is slightly ajar. At first, you think it is a trick of the light, but as you approach it, a sudden gust of wind forcefully pushes its way through the small opening. You halt for a moment, letting the wind play with your hair, feeling the strands whip against your face. Then you inhale deeply, pulling the fresh air into your lungs.

Had this happened a week ago, you would have been frantically scheming of ways to pry the window open fully, perhaps even considering jumping out. But now, you simply stand there. Your arms are wrapped around your waist, as you take in shallow breaths of the crisp air. Now and then, your eyes dart over your shoulder, checking on Simon. Yet he continues to sleep soundly, undisturbed by your movement…

You take a shower, wash your hair and then spend another hour in the bathroom, standing like a statue in front of the sink, looking at the mirror that is above it. You don’t recognise your reflection. The woman staring back at you is a stranger; her features unfamiliar, the dark circles under her eyes a harsh reminder of your restless nights. With a sigh, your fingers lightly trace these unwanted signs of fatigue before your palms come to rest on your cheeks, hiding your face from view.

When you return to the bedroom, you find Simon awake. The sight of you, dressed with your hair still slightly damp from the shower, brings a smile to his face. Surprisingly, you smile back at him.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks and you nod. “Good.”

You are rooted to the spot, standing near the end of the bed. Uncertain of what do to next, you watch Simon, who remains just as quiet, his gaze never leaving you.

“I’m hungry,” you finally break the silence. At your words, Simon sits up, the movement causing the blanket to slide off him and reveal his bare skin. Your eyes involuntarily travel down his chiselled chest, only returning to his face when he speaks.

“What are you in the mood for?”

Caught off-guard by his question, you shrug and then spend the next five minutes in deep thought before finally answering with the least helpful response, “Something sweet.”

* * *

Simon refuses to let you assist him in the kitchen. And the only thing you are allowed to do is slice fruits with a knife that’s so dull, it could hardly cut through butter. Meanwhile, he takes on the more prominent task of meticulously mixing the pancake batter. The conversation between you two starts off as a gentle simmer. Neither of you are particularly talkative, letting the comfortable silence fill the gaps.

However, as soon as he brings up your low tolerance for alcohol, insinuating with a playful glint in his eyes that he had somewhat anticipated the night to culminate with you in the bathroom, the teasing begins. Trying your best to furrow your brows and pout, you make a valiant attempt to look offended. However, a traitorous smile still creeps onto your face, betraying your feigned annoyance as you shake your head in disapproval, unable to hide your amusement.

“Surely, you weren’t dozing off after one glass,” you retort, your words dripping with sarcasm.

“No, I was simply resting my eyes,” he counters, his focus riveted on the sizzling stove.

His back is turned to you. His broad shoulders block your view of his face, creating a perfect opportunity for you to roll your eyes at him. “Yes, yes, yes, you were!” you exclaim, your voice echoing in the kitchen as a giggle bubbles up from your throat.

The grating sound of a heavy vehicle crunching against the gravel in the driveway abruptly disrupts your and Simon’s morning. The tires, burdened by the vehicle’s weight, screech in loud protest against the sudden halt. Your heart, caught off-guard, skips a beat, fluttering like a caged bird against your rib cage. A wave of anxiety washes over you, chilling you to your core and making your breath hitch in your throat as a singular thought crashes through the tranquility of your mind like a thunderbolt: Johnny.

Every attempt to bury the vivid memory of the last time you saw him, of his betrayal, seems in vain. It’s a haunting memory that persistently pricks at your heart - a deep-rooted, festering wound that never quite managed to heal, always lurking beneath the surface of your consciousness like a shadow in the twilight. Although, now, as you look back, his actions no longer seem steeped in betrayal. Instead, it feels as if he saved you from a fate far worse. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, a thorny truth that pierces through the veil of denial, but you realize that if it hadn’t been for Johnny, you may very well still be lost, wandering aimlessly in the endless forest.

As Simon slowly, almost reluctantly, reaches for the knob, turning off the stove, you rise from your seat simultaneously, too. His steely gaze barely grazes your direction. But when it does, and he finally looks at you, his eyes are a stormy sea of unspoken words. Without uttering anything, without any hint of a sound escaping his lips, he sharply jerks his chin upward and a silent command reverberates across the kitchen. You nod. Immediately, your feet carry you towards the staircase and you ascend it, rushing into your room.

As soon as the door closes, you find yourself darting towards the window. In the driveway below is parked a truck. However, it isn’t the aged, beaten-up truck you’ve come to associate with Johnny.

Your face presses against the cool glass, cheeks squishing against the smooth surface as you attempt to get a better look. Your breath fogs up the window as you squint, trying to make out any details. Yet despite your best efforts to angle your head, crane your neck in the most uncomfortable of positions, you don’t catch a glimpse of Johnny.

It feels as though time has stretched out as your gaze remains unwaveringly fixated on the ominous truck outside. But then, the tranquility of the quiet house is shattered by the unexpected sound of heavy footsteps. It’s as if a herd of stampeding elephants has suddenly decided to hold a raucous parade from the narrow hallway into the living room. A lump forms in your throat—physical manifestation of your growing apprehension that propels you towards the door.

Yet, when you finally reach it, a wave of raw, unadulterated fear washes over you, rooting you to the spot as if your feet have been ensnared in a pool of quick-drying cement. The low, rumbling voices of multiple people filter through the wooden grain of the door, their unintelligible murmurs further stoking the raging flames of your anxiety. In this moment, you realize with a sinking heart that you are not brave enough to open the door. Nor do you possess the courage to venture out of the sanctuary of your room and steal a peek at the commotion happening downstairs.

* * *

You are sitting at the table, meticulously tearing pages out of some book and trying to fold paper flowers when the door creaks and opens. Instinctively, your head swivels toward the hallway.

You expect Simon to step in, but instead it’s Johnny. He looks taller than you remember, his presence imposing and intimidating. His face is etched with severity, and he’s decked out in all black gear, from his boots to his heavy-duty jacket. The sight of him, especially the glinting gun strapped to his thigh, makes your pulse race. You find yourself recoiling instinctively, curling up defensively in the chair you’re seated on. An uneasiness engulfs you. You know something is off, although you can’t put your finger on it.

“Hey,” he greets you, his stern expression softening slightly as he bridges the distance between you. His eyes reveal a flicker of an emotion you can’t quite place, but seems dangerously akin to guilt.

With a curt nod, he signals for you to follow him. His commanding tone, a subtle mix of assertion and urgency, leaves no room for argument or hesitation. But despite the palpable fear that gnaws at your stomach, you shake your head and don’t stand up. Your hands, as if on their own accord, tighten around the paper flower you had just folded. The pressure of your grip squashes it mercilessly in your fist; the once delicate, painstakingly crafted creation is now a crumpled mess.

“Where’s Simon?” You ask, not caring about anything else and certainly not wanting to go anywhere with Johnny.

“Downstairs,” he replies simply, his tone cryptic.

As you and Johnny engage in a silent standoff, you remain defiantly seated, refusing to rise, while he holds his ground, refusing to exit. The air between you is thick with tension, becoming a palpable third entity in the room. A cascade of questions tumble from your lips like a waterfall, demanding answers as to why Simon had sent him to fetch you, and why you are required to go anywhere at all. Yet, Johnny remains cryptic, providing no answers to your queries, only promising to tell you what is going on if you come with him. Still, regardless of his promise, you don’t budge.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” suddenly, he says, and the words hit you like a punch to the gut. You freeze, your body involuntarily stiffening as he reaches out to you, his fingers gently wrapping around your shoulder in a squeeze. “I know what he did,” he confesses, his voice thick with sincerity and regret that is too profound to fake.

Perhaps Johnny assumed that his confession and the promise of answers would be enough to coax you into leaving the room and following him without protest. However, you remain resolute, unyielding in your decision not to move a muscle.

Eventually, Johnny resorts to physically guiding you downstairs. His hand clasps around your arm and pulls you to your feet. But even then, he exercises caution, making sure not to apply too much pressure that could hurt you. His fingers don’t dig too deep into your skin, as if he’s mindful of avoiding causing you any unnecessary discomfort or pain.

The moment you and Johnny cross the threshold into the living room, the once spacious area seems to shrink, as if the walls are closing in. The reason for this is the presence of three imposing figures, each one bigger than the last. Meanwhile, Simon is perched uncomfortably on the edge of the couch. His fingers drum against his knee, producing a rhythmic tap-tap-tap that echoes in the otherwise silent room, amplifying your anxiety to an almost palpable level.

You don’t know who these men are, standing tall with tense backs and squared shoulders. Their eyes, sharp and calculating, rake over you like icy gusts of wind. The sight of the men staring at you is enough to make you feel a dizzying sense of unease and make your heart pound in your chest; the room spins slightly as if you are on the verge of fainting.

Your immediate instinct, driven by a primal need for safety, is to sprint toward Simon. Yet Johnny, with his uncanny ability to anticipate your thoughts and actions, is quick to react. After reading your body language, he firmly holds you back. His grip on your arm is unyielding, as if he were a statue carved from stone. Instead of letting you dart towards Simon, he steers you toward a chair that has been hastily brought into the room and forces you to take a seat.

#simon riley x reader #writing #simon ghost riley #ghost x y/n #simon riley x you #ghost x you #ghost x reader #call of duty #cod #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost call of duty

[lisbonsteresa]

oh ok 😵‍💫

#once again it's hers and his once again it's (almost) pink and blue oh i'm going crazy over this actually; so many questions #i'm like 95% sure he bought the nightgown (i mean he bought her two whole outfits so i would not be surprised) #(and we have at least two other instances of lisbon wearing something different to bed....the change from s3 to s7 though aldsfkj ok sluts) #but when did he buy his pjs? only after they got together (and he started sleeping in a bed consistently oh now i'm sad)? #or has he always had them and just not really worn them because he usually ends up sleeping on the couch #and he bought the nightgown thinking (or at least on some level aware like come on how could he not be) that they'd match? #if he'd not fallen asleep on the couch would they have been wearing semi-matching pjs? #AND FOR THAT MATTER did he just fall asleep on the couch or did they agree on that arrangement ahead of time #(i'd have to assume the latter - surely this house has multiple bedrooms after all - but what IF-) #oh he's still wearing his scarf (fjafKLDS) he did just fall asleep (oh honeypie...) #(god imagining them fumbling around some version of a 'only one bed' conversation and lisbon noticing the pj matching #or jane waking up slightly after she puts the blanket over him and smiling at seeing her in the nightgown) #(or it not even being a nightgown; them having an agreement that jane would be in another bedroom/the couch #and lisbon ends up grabbing one of his pj shirts on impulse thinking she'd just change early the next morning but she comes downstairs #and drapes the blanket over him and he's still slightly awake and sees her in it and......oh the word doc is taunting me) #tm

[baby-yongbok]

You're So Pretty

Kim Seungmin x Fem!Reader

-`♡´- Genre: Smut - The Sugary Sweet Type

-`♡´- Summary: “You love seeing me in a bonnet?” -`♡´- Word Count: 3.3k -`♡´- Warnings: Unprotected piv (Safe sex is great sex) - [That should be it] -`♡´- A/N: This is 2000% self indulgent. I've never felt pretty when wearing my bonnet and I've always been so shy about it. I just thought of this idea out of the blue and I've been obsessed with it ever since! This might be some of the fluffiest smut I've ever written and it's really more about the connection than the smut (to me) I hope you enjoy because I love this! + the reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ . All feedback is appreciated! Thanks for reading! 💗

-`♡´- Masterlist -`♡´-

The privilege of lazy mornings was not something that Seungmin came across often, so when he had the chance to lounge in the golden morning sunlight shining through the slightly broken blinds of your bedroom he took in every single second of it. It’s been weeks since he’s been able to lay in the tangled sheets with you, watching with starry eyes as you hug more than half of the blanket to your chest. It’s still early, his body has gotten so used to his insane schedule that his eyes opened right when the sun started to rise but he can’t find it in him to be mad about it. Not when he has the best view of his life right in front of him. 

He turns on his side, resting his cheek against his bent arm as he scans your sweet features. Your soft breathing and snores - that you won’t admit to - fill the air around him, a soft smile adorning his lips as he takes you in. Gosh, he’s missed you. Missed this. He reaches forward, caressing your cheek with the pad of his thumb and pushing away a stray strand of hair that escaped from your bonnet. The pale pink silk covering your hair shines in the orange glow as more of the morning light creeps into the cracks of your curtains. The butterflies on the print nearly come to life in the shimmering glow. 

He gently drapes his arm over your waist, shifting towards you so that he can embrace you properly. He’s never been one for skin ship but in the years that you’ve been together he’s found that you are his only exception. He can’t stand not having his arms around you, the feeling of your soft skin under his touch calms him like nothing else in this world. 

You shift under the new touch, snuggling into his arms and nearly shrugging your bonnet off. He smiles, reaching up to adjust the edge of the cap so that it stays on. You always tell him that your pink bonnet is your favorite and for this reason the elastic is looser than your others. It’s fallen off in the middle of the night more times than you can count, allowing your curls to sprawl out over you and Seungmin’s pillows. 

You hum sleepily as he pulls the bonnet down and he hums back, mimicking the soft sound and making up a melody to lull you back to sleep. His fingers trace over your face, cradling your cheek in his palm. A sigh of contentment interrupts his humming as he traces over your features, he’s already memorized every inch of you but he can’t help but to pretend like it’s the first time he’s seeing you every time his eyes land on you. Your eyelashes flutter as his thumb brushes over your lips and a gentle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He leans in close enough to feel your breath on his face.

"I know you’re awake" He pulls back, watching as you fight the grin pulling at the corners of your lips.

“I’m not.” A husky chuckle escapes him, the sleep coating his vocal cords making him sound deeper than usual. “I’m sleeping.”

“Oh yeah?” You hum, scooting closer to him and snuggling into his white cotton shirt. “You talk in your sleep now?”

His arm wraps back around your waist, tracing imaginary shapes into your back through your thin tank top. “Mhmm.”

“She snores, she talks in her sleep, I wonder what’s next.” You earn yourself another chuckle as you pull back from him, a scoff leaving your lips as you glare at him. “There go those pretty eyes.”

“I do not snore.” He hums, hugging you back against his chest. 

“You do, don’t worry it’s cute.” It’s your turn to chuckle as your arms find a home around his waist, you mimic his earlier actions, tracing shapes into his back as the two of you lie in the warm silent morning glow. He rests his chin on top of your head, settling into your fluffy bonnet and allowing the scent of your shampoo to flood his senses. “Good morning, princess.”

“Good morning, my love.” Your bonnet starts to slip off again and he smiles against it. You sigh, fisting the fabric and pulling it off of your head, revealing your surprisingly tame curls. “Sorry about that.” A shy chuckle escapes you as you pull away a bit to catch his gaze. 

“Why are you sorry?” 

“That thing is annoying and I bet it’s not that pretty to look at.” A deep blush paints your cheeks as you stare up at him. “You always say that you love my hair so I bet I look ugly in the -”

“Never.” His voice is soft yet firm, sweet but hushed. His honey pupils are wide and sincere as they stare back into yours. “You never look ugly, especially not when you're wearing your bonnet. I love seeing you in it, I've always loved it.”

“You love seeing me in a bonnet?” Your furrowed brows meet his slight pout as he slides down a bit to meet your eyes. You both lay your head on his pillow.

 “I do.” His big puppy eyes stay locked on yours as he twirls one of your curls around his finger mindlessly. “You’re stunning all the time but I love it most when you’re comfortable. When I see you in your bonnet, especially your favorite one, I know that you’re comfortable and that makes me the happiest man on this planet. I think that it’s cute.”

“Cute?” You can’t help the blush that runs over your cheeks. You’d be lying if you said that his words didn’t make your heart flutter and swell with love for him but it would be out of character for you to not tease him just a little. “I’m just cute?” He smiles at your pout, running his hand down the curve of your waist.

“You’re not just anything.” You blink up at him, his touch is waking you up faster than any coffee ever could. “You’re cute, You’re beautiful, stunning, hot, breathtaking.” 

His large hand squeezes your hip, pressing his pelvis - and morning wood - against you. Your hand rests on his chest, lazily fisting his shirt as he showers you with sweet nothings. 

“You’re right, you’re not just cute when you have your bonnet on.” He pushes his chest against yours and you move your hand so that your fingers are running through his blonde locks.

“What am I then?” Your voice is barely above a whisper and he mimics it with his response, leaning in dangerously close to the delicate skin of your neck. 

“You’re sexy.” He grins at the shiver he feels run up your spine, pressing a soft kiss to the shell of your ear. “Seeing you relaxed in your bonnet is the sexiest thing ever. I love knowing that you’re comfortable around me.”

You sigh into him, the sweet scent of him mixed with his words making you feel dizzy. “Are you comfortable around me, baby?”

“So comfortable, Min.”  He pulls you closer, his soft lips pressing against your forehead. You feel your body relax into his as his lips trail down the curve of your neck. You let out a sigh of relief, feeling safe and loved in his arms. 

“Do me a favor, please?” He reaches behind you, pressing a kiss to your temple and causing a chuckle to tumble from your lips as you press your own soft kiss to his neck. “Put it back on.” 

He holds the pink satin out to you, offering it with a smile as you take it from him. “Usually you’re telling me to take stuff off, this is a first.” He chuckles, his voice sounding more normal now. 

“We’re getting to that part.” He kneads the soft flesh of your thigh as you scoop your hair back into the cap, making sure to get every curl until Seungmin stops you. “Leave this one out.” He wraps the coil around his finger, pulling it down and watching it bounce back. 

“Why?”

“It always slips out when you’re sleeping. I love it.” A toothy school girl smile sweeps your features before you quickly hide it behind your hand. “Nuh uh, let me see.” He moves your hand, holding it in his as he studies your features once again.

“That’s my pretty girl. So cute. So sexy.”  He whispers as he pulls you flush against him, rolling over on top of you and hovering just enough to make sure that he doesn’t crush you. Your eyes flutter shut as his lips brush against yours. You let out a small giggle at the sudden movement as he lowers himself onto his forearms. You blink up at him, feeling the sleepiness float away as you get lost in the moment, only able to feel the love and pure desire radiating from him.

 Neither of you speak another word as you simultaneously soul gaze and brush blushed lips over every inch of available skin. Short chuckles and lazy smiles make their way into the mix as your hands glide over the smooth cotton covering his board shoulder and back, you rake your fingers through his hair as he presses his hips into you. Before the two of you even realize it you start grinding against each other, his hips rutting against your dripping core.

 You aren’t sure when you got so turned on but you’re almost positive that your panties are ruined. Seungmin on the other hand knew that he wanted to feel you as soon as his eyes fluttered open and landed on you, he meant it when he said he finds you attractive in your bonnet. Your comfort turns him on more than you could ever know. You do so much for him on a daily basis, you support him through hell and back so when you both have the chance to take it slow and you slip on your bonnet he’s the happiest man alive. It just so happens that his happiness is accompanied by a hard on. 

His lips are relentlessly pressing against yours, kissing, sucking and lightly nipping at your bottom lip. “What are you doing to me, pretty girl?” He’s breathless, whispering against your lips before going in for more. “Making me so desperate for you so early in the morning.”

“I like when you’re desperate.” You smile into the kiss and he mimics you, grinding against your clothed cunt hard and slow. The drag of his cock against your panties is dizzying, your eyelids flutter shut before you can even think to stop them. “You feel so good against me.”

“Can I make you feel good while I’m inside of you?” Sweet kisses are planted along your jawline, an airy moan escapes you and your clit throbs as you try to think of a clever answer but the only thing on your mind is him. There’s only Seungmin. You offer him an enthusiastic nod that he appreciates but won’t easily accept. “Gotta give me more than that, princess.”

“Please, Min, wan’ you inside.” Suddenly you feel sleepy all over again, maybe you’re drunk off of him. His sweet kisses and gentle yet demanding touch, his scent, his voice, it’s all so intoxicating. 

He supports himself on one arm while the other reaches down to dip his boxers down and free his cock. It slaps against your inner thigh and you can’t help but to whimper at the warmth of it as the soft skin rubs against you. He follows but hooking his finger into the gusset of your panties, pulling them aside and hissing a curse once he feels just how wet you are under the fabric. 

“Do you always get this wet when I call you pretty?” His middle finger traces the lightest possible circle around your clit. One, two, three times before trailing down, parting your folds with the same finger and prodding your entrance with the tip. You buck your hips up into his touch, desperate to feel more of him. “Or is it when I call you sexy?” 

His finger breaches your hole, filling you with half of his finger and pumping a couple of times before slowly pulling out and teasing your clit again. “Seung, please, I need you. Wanna feel you, baby.”

“Your wish.” He eagerly drags the head of his cock along your folds, he’d never admit it but he’s glad that you asked to skip the teasing. Usually he’d keep it going but this morning he needs you just as badly. He misses you, all of you.

You gasp as the head of his cock stretches your cunt, your eyes roll back as the rest of his length follows and a moan drags from your throat as he bottoms out, filling you so deliciously that your breath stutters. “Is my command.”

He starts moving slowly, rocking his hips almost lazily into you. He fills you to the brim with each thrust, giving you every inch that he has to offer and making your eyes roll back in pure bliss.

“So pretty like that.” His thumb caresses your cheek as you moan beneath him, slowly coming apart at the seams. “So pretty when your eyes roll back for me, so sexy.”

“You’re pretty too, baby.” You reach up to cup his face in your hands, he melts into your palms. His hips stutter at the contact and his eyes flutter shut for just a second. Your touch is the purest thing in the world to him. You never fail to make him melt. “So pretty, so fine, you’re sexy.” 

“Yeah?” A quick kiss to the tip of your nose interrupts his strokes. An elated smirk adorned his features as he stared down at you with bright golden eyes illuminated by the morning sun. 

“Yea - oh my gosh” You’re interrupted by a moan as the head of his cock drags along your swelling g-spot. That’s when he knows that you’re ready for more. 

“You’re prettier.” He scrunches his face at you playfully as he pushes himself up, still settled deep inside of you. He shifts onto his knees. “You want more?”

“Please, Minnie, more.” You reach for him, intertwining your fingers with one hand while his other pushes your thigh back just enough for him to get a good look at how he’s stuffing you full of him. 

“I’m going to fuck this pretty cunt okay, pup?” All you offer is a nod but due to his own burning desire he decided to accept it this time. He rocks into faster than before, finding a pace that leaves you both throwing your heads back. “My princesses cunt is drooling around my cock. Takin’ me so well.”

Your free hand grips at the sheet while the other squeezes Seungmin’s hand. He leans over and plants sloppy kisses onto your knuckles while his other hand grips at your thigh. The way that you’re clenching around him has him seeing stars and the sweet sounds filling the air around him are only adding fuel to the fire inside his chest. Usually he’d want to tear you apart, fuck into you at a rough and unrelenting pace but not right now. Right now he wants to watch the way that the golden light makes your cocoa skin shimmer, right now he wants to stare into your caramel eyes and get lost in the galaxies inside of them while you squeeze around him so impossibly tight that he has to write songs in his head just to keep his composure or maybe he won’t. Maybe he’ll get so lost in you that he’ll forget the words to every song that he’s ever sung. Maybe that’s what he wants right now.

“Minnie - min, feel so good ‘s so full, baby.” He picks up the pace just a bit, filling you to the hilt with each thrust. 

“You like that, pup?” Your blissed out expression is all the answer that he needs but he still liked hearing you say it. “Wan’ give my baby the fuck that she deserves.”

“Oh god, right there, Min, please.” Your pussy is fluttering around him like you could cum any second. He shakes his head, smiling down at you with adoring eyes but you’re too busy biting your finger with your eyes screwed shut to notice. That’s fine, you look pretty like that, so pretty that his cock is twitching and he’s nearly ready to bust himself. “Min, Min, Minnie” 

You didn’t even have to actually ask him, he already knows what it means when you call his name like that. His hand abandons its grip on your thigh and his pointer and middle fingers softly - yet firmly - press against your swollen clit circling the bud just how you like it. 

“You’ll make me so happy if you cum on my cock, princess.” You prop yourself up on your elbow, desperately wanting to watch the way that his cock fucks you open so perfectly. “You see that? See how your pretty cunt swallows my cock?” 

You clench around him once his filthy words fill your ears. How could he fuck you so sensually while saying such erotic things? “ ‘S perfect. Was made just for me, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, yes, baby it’s yours. Made just for you.” His hips stutter as you moan for him, his hand squeezes yours where your fingers are still intertwined. The energy around you is pure, loving, sensual, orgasmic. “M- Min I-I’m gonna cum, gonna cum, can I please.”

“ ‘M gonna cum with you, pup. Gonna fill your pretty cunt, okay?”

“Please please, yes.” You drop down, lying back against the pillow and Seungmin follows you so he doesn’t let go of your hand. He hovers over you, keeping the same pace as before while his other hand grips at your waist. 

“Cum for me, c-cum pretty baby, oh fuck.” He wants nothing more than to look into your eyes while you come undone underneath him, shivering and calling his name into the air like a prayer but he can’t help but to allow his eyes to flutter shut as he takes it all in. You feel so good, sound so pretty, so perfect. 

“Oh my- fuck.” You press your hands against his chest, fisting his t-shirt as he pants above you. A couple seconds of silence surround the two of you before you break it, a light chuckle leaving your lips. Seungmin smiles before he even opens his eyes, looking up to meet your sparkling orbs as your sweet chuckle fills the air. 

“I love you.” He whispers just loud enough for you to hear over your glee, you offer him a toothy smile in response as you comb his hair back with your fingers. 

“I love you more.” An airy scoff escapes him as he sits up, trying his best to gently remove his softening cock from your dripping core. 

“Impossible, I love you more.” He groans at the sensation and you sigh at the feeling of semi-emptiness. Seungmin watches for a second as his cum runs out of your cunt, hypnotized by the sight. 

“Nuh uh.” The sound of you closing the drawer of your nightstand and handing him a pack of baby wipes pulls his attention away from the beauty in front of him.

“Yuh huh.” He plucks a wipe from the package, warming it in his hand before starting to clean you up. “If you think you love me more than I guess I just have to show you how much I love you all day.”

Your walls clench at the thought, pushing more of his cum out of you and earning a chuckle from him. “All day, huh?”

“Yup.” He smiles as he throws the pack of wipes to the side, moving to cuddle next to you. You snuggle into his side, staring up into his bright eyes. The morning sun casts a glow over both of you. 

“Does the bonnet stay on?”

“Yes, pretty.” He leans in, pressing his lips against your forehead in a sweet kiss. “The bonnet stays on.”

Thank you for reading! All Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated! Let me know how you liked the story. It makes my day!

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[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part Ten

Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader

Summary: Miguel continues to recover while trying to figure out how to move on. You take another step forward in your own mourning journey.

Word Count: 23,982

Warnings: I reviewed this three times but I may have missed some errors so apologies in advance; more Spanish terms than usual, I think but translations are provided at the end like always; mostly fluff with a bit of angst but it's necessary angst

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |

Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight |

Part Nine |Part Ten |Part Eleven|

Part Ten

A little while after your friends leave, Miguel and you lie on your respective beds for the night. You’re already passed out asleep but Miguel is still awake and he finds himself, once again, watching you sleep. He looks away, remembering that Lyla caught him staring the previous night. Yet, there’s something comforting about watching you sleep. Miguel doesn’t understand why but there is. There’s the sound of your breathing; slow, even, and soft. It’s like an invitation to sleep. Like a calling, letting him know that it’s safe for him to do the same.

There’s also the sight of you. You’re once again hugging your pillow and Miguel cannot help but wonder if this is how you always sleep, as this is the third time he’s seen you like this. Watching you sleep, Miguel cannot help but feel ternura, a word in Spanish that translates to “tenderness” or “endearment.” However, he specifically thinks of “ternura” because no term in English does justice to the Spanish translation. The term incites a much deeper feeling than “tenderness” or “endearment” in him. It’s different somehow, even if they translate to the same thing and he suddenly wonders, as he watches you, why he’s even having this chain of thought.

He shakes his head gently, wanting to clear his mind and tries to do so by turning his attention to the windows instead with a soft sigh. The blinds are drawn but he can still see through them. His eyes land on faraway lights from cars, while his ears remain focused on your breathing. His mind shifts back to his thoughts from earlier when your friends were here. On how he’ll try to move forward.

He has time to think about how he’ll do it. He knows it’ll be hard and that it won’t be an overnight change as he’s lived with this mindset for such a long time. It’ll take small steps, and some will be harder to reach than others, but he’ll try. He hasn’t given up in the past when it comes to other things, so Miguel now tries to think of this process in the same way. He won’t give up on it. He won’t give up on moving forward. For them. He smiles faintly, still looking out the windows from the bed, as he remembers his family members telling him they were always around. He looks around the room now, wondering. He remembers Gabriel’s words.

“We’re always with you. Even if you don’t believe it or sense us, we’re always there. In every mission. In every universe. Every day and sleepless night.”

Every sleepless night. Miguel isn’t sleepless tonight. Nor lonely. He looks over at you and for a second, he swears he sees the blanket draped over you move slightly. Miguel blinks and shakes his head once again, thinking he should really go to sleep now. With his eyes on you, he can’t help the thought that comes to his mind suddenly.

“If you’re really around at all times, spare me from losing again. From losing… her.”

And maybe it’s silly but Miguel doesn’t take his thought back. He means it and he hopes that if his family is really here or somewhere out there listening, that they’ve heard his plea. With that, he finally closes his eyes and leans back on the pillows, letting your breathing pull him to sleep.

★★★

The next morning when Miguel wakes up, he finds you awake. You look like you’ve showered already and you’re once again typing into the tablet he’s seen you with this entire weekend. It’s Monday and Miguel suddenly feels like he ought to be in his lab, which he now realizes he’s been away from since Friday night. The thought makes him pause for a few seconds. It’s been so long since he’s spent a weekend out of the lab, and he can’t believe it was due to injuries.

He stretches slightly, wincing when he feels pain in his lower abdomen from the trident wound. You notice and are at his side in the blink of an eye.

“Are you okay?”

Miguel nods, meeting your eyes. “Yes, I just stretched too much. Don’t worry, the pain is subsiding now. I thought it’d be better today.”

“Little by little. Try not to put too much strain, especially on the stitches please,” you reply, watching Miguel with concerned eyes, which he takes notice of.

He instantly feels guilty for making you feel concerned over him, so he gives you a small smile, hoping that it’ll reassure you. It does or at least he believes so because you smile back at him.

“Yes, you’re right. I’m just not used – to this,” Miguel admits and then realizes he’s not used to any of what happened this weekend, and so much happened. There were many realizations. Many firsts. Too many thoughts. All with you by his side; his friend, the one that hardly left his side this entire weekend. The one that found him on that rainy rooftop. The one that gave him the gizmo to keep him from glitching. The one that watched him died and come back to life. The one that fed him, and helped him showered with such care and tenderness. His friend. Miguel’s face suddenly feels very warm. He clears his throat and motions to the tablet that you left behind on the fold out chair. “You’re still working on the report?”

You nod, feeling more relaxed now that you see Miguel is no longer in pain. “Sections two and three are done. I’m almost done with the anomaly section,” you inform him, and he nods, remembering that he wants to ask you if you’d be interested in working with him on the report from now on. He decides to ask later, maybe after breakfast.

“That’s good. I look forward to seeing the complete edition,” he answers with another small grin.

“Hopefully you like it,” you reply with your own grin. “Do you want to get up and walk around a bit? Maybe use the bathroom?”

Miguel nods and so, you help him once again to get to the bathroom. You help him brush his teeth and offer to clean his face, which he hesitantly agrees to again. Once he’s ready, you help him walk to the fold-out chair as he doesn’t want to be in bed anymore.

You offer Miguel breakfast and coffee from the cafeteria, which he accepts. You surprise Miguel with another large coffee cup, making him wonder how you managed to do it again. It’s been weeks since he was able to get his hands on one but you’ve managed to get three in the span of two days. The two of you have breakfast together before Jess and Peter B. show up to inform Miguel about the day’s tasks. He nods and listens intently to them while you stand by the windows, behind Jess and Peter B., listening quietly to the updates. At last, Jess and Peter B. head out, leaving you and Miguel alone again.

You offer Miguel the tablet so he can check on some things while you fix the room. Shortly after, the medical team arrives to check on Miguel. You’re both happy and relieved when they report that his injuries are healing correctly and that he’s in the right direction for a full recovery. He’s doing so well that he’s discharged with the instruction to rest at home for another day or two, at least until he can move his arms without hurting himself. 

So, that’s how you find yourself in Miguel’s penthouse over an hour later after the doctor discharged him. It was an hour later for different reasons. You needed to pick up the items from the bathroom and transport everything Miguel received from spider members to his penthouse. The main reason, however, was that the two of you simply stuck around the infirmary room even when you could’ve left sooner.

As you place your personal hygiene items out on one of the nightstands in Miguel’s guest room now, you can’t help but think how it felt like Miguel didn’t want to leave the infirmary room. You wonder if maybe he had the same thought you had as you were packing up. You were picking up his personal hygiene items from the bathroom and suddenly realized it was time to leave the place that became somewhat of a home over the weekend. The two of you were there the entire time on your own with the exception of two or so hours, even with other spider members in the building. 

It was a room in which a lot happened, some of which you wish to not think about while there are other things that make you smile. Exhaustion, fear, helplessness, and other emotions you felt in the early hours on Saturday morning were replaced by the afternoon. Happiness and relief were felt when he woke up at last in the afternoon. There was a bit of humor from the horrible hospital food and Miguel’s grumpiness. There was comfort in seeing him awake and talking, and in his interest in the movies you watched together in the dimly lit room while it rained. There was vulnerability, tenderness, caring… You ate together. Talked. Slept. The two of you shared this one room and in a weird sense, it felt like it was your own little world away from everyone and everything. And perhaps Miguel felt like that, too.

Maybe that’s why he stalled. Maybe that’s why there was relief, gratitude, and something else in his eyes when you walked up to him and told him, “We can head to your penthouse if you’re ready now.”

And unknowingly, you’re correct. Miguel didn’t want to leave the infirmary room because he thought it meant going home to an empty penthouse. It meant your return to your universe. He felt selfish for stalling and for wishing that you’d stop packing but then you walked up to him and the way you looked at him when you told him the two of you could head out made him realize you had no plans on leaving his side yet. At last, he nodded and the two of you left the infirmary room to go to his penthouse. 

You finish putting away your items on the nightstand. You’re unsure of tomorrow but you’ll be spending the night today. With your hands on your hips, you look around the room. You remember vague details of the place from Saturday morning when you came looking for Miguel, hoping you’d find him here and that everything was fine. You sigh as you remember those moments so vividly, how you were rushing from room to room. You clear your head and focus on the bedroom instead. It matches the neutral theme the entire penthouse is decorated with. The room is organized and clean, which makes you wonder if Miguel cleans the place himself or if he has someone clean it, considering he hardly spends time here. Either way, you notice there’s no dust on the furniture.

Your gaze falls on a bookshelf, catching your attention. You walk to it and read some of the books’ titles, noticing some of them are specifically about genetics. You smile softly, remembering from somewhere that Miguel is a geneticist. It’s been a very long time since you learned that and you can’t even remember who mentioned it to you. Your eyes move to another shelf with more books though these are on technology. You notice a few of the titles are specifically about inventions and repairs. You hum, wondering but retreat from the bookshelf and walk to one of the windows in the bedroom.

You stand in front of it and look out before a strange sensation washes over you as you’re met with a beautiful sight of Nueva York. Tall buildings in Nueva York’s futuristic architecture and flying cars in the distance meet your gaze. You chase the sensation, wondering what exactly it is. It feels like you’ve been here before somehow, looking out of this very window but you know you haven’t. You chuckle to yourself and shake your head, knowing it’s been a crazy weekend and you’re probably just tired. You sigh softly as you stare out the window for a few seconds longer before you head out of the guest room.

You walk down the stairs, catching Miguel’s eyes from the living room. He sits on the couch closest to the stairs, so he looks up as soon as he hears your steps. The sight of you walking down the stairs makes him pause as he realizes it’s been a long time since anyone has been on the second floor. He doesn’t even know that this is your third time over this single weekend since he’s unaware that you came looking for him on Saturday morning.

You reach the bottom of the stairs at last and give him a smile. “Sorry if I took a while. I got a little distracted,” you admit.

Miguel raises his eyebrows softly, curious. “You didn’t, don’t worry about it. I hope you find everything to your liking. There are clean towels in the bathroom and other essentials you may need. If you need something, please let me know.”

“Everything is great, thank you,” you answer as you take a seat on the other couch, across from him.

Miguel nods. “I’m glad to hear that. I want to make sure your stay is comfortable,” Miguel says softly. “So, please let me know if there’s something you need.” You give Miguel a reassuring smile and nod before he adds, ”You said you got distracted?”

“The view. It’s so lovely,” you say with a smile and Miguel nods, knowing what you mean.

The view from the penthouse was one of the reasons he decided to move here in the first place back when he thought he’d spend a lot of time here. He did to some degree but he eventually spent less and less time after Gabriel passed away. As he sees your smile and enthusiasm about the view, it makes Miguel realize it’s been so long since he’s admired it. He honestly forgot about it. Before he gets a chance to respond, you look down at your gizmo.

“It’s almost lunch time. I was thinking – I’m kind of over cafeteria food. No offense, it’s great but would you like something homemade?” you ask slowly.

Miguel nods softly, a small grin on his face. “I would but – you don’t mind?”

You stand up from the couch, fixing your top. “I don’t mind. It might take me a minute to get acquainted with your appliances, but I got this. Do you have anything specific in mind?”

“Anything you make will be more than great to me,” Miguel says softly. “Really, I’ll have whatever you make. You’ve done so much and now this, too…”

“You’ve done this for me, too,” you interject quietly walking over to the console table between the two couches. “Besides, I think we could really use a homemade meal,” you add with a chuckle.

Miguel gives you a small grin. “I agree… Thank you. If we need to order groceries, let me know so I can order them.”

His last sentence makes Miguel pause. He holds your gaze, but you don’t seem to mind it, or even notice it. You smile and nod.

“Don’t worry about it. I have groceries at home that I can bring if needed, alright? You just sit here and relax, I’ll take care of the rest. And here are – all these remotes,” you say with a frown as you pick up multiple remotes. “If you want to watch TV in the meantime. I think – yeah, this one looks like it.”

You walk over to Miguel, who’s still thinking about his comment on the groceries, and place the remote in his hand. 

“Yeah, that’s the one. Thank you, Y/N,” Miguel responds at last, giving you a nod before you walk away to the kitchen.

He watches you before he looks down at the remote. He shakes his head, wondering why he’s stuck up on his comment. He turns on the TV but nothing catches his attention, so instead, he slowly looks around his living room from his seat.

The fact that he’s sitting there is strange to him. He can’t remember the last time he sat in his living room. It was some time after Gabriellas’s universe collapsed in the first week after his return. He couldn’t sleep because he was plagued by nightmares of Gabriella calling out to him in fear before she vanished from his arms forever. Yeah, that sounds about right to Miguel. He remembers coming to the living room and sitting here sometimes, in the darkness because he couldn’t stand being in his room. When sitting didn’t work anymore, he’d pace; sometimes forgetting for how long. He paced and paced, something he still does at HQ when he needs a break from the screens, trying to hold back the tears – trying to hold back from screaming in anger, grief, and loss in the dead of night, alone in this empty penthouse.

He remembers looking around on those nights. He barely visited the penthouse during his time in Gabriella’s universe. He had no reason to. It wasn’t his home anymore. It didn’t feel like home anymore. He remembers how foreign, cold, and lonely it felt when he came back. There was no warmth. No sign of family. There were no toys in the living room or pink glitter notebooks on the coffee table with crayons and colored pencils scattered about with the promise that they’d be used again the following day by their owner after homework was completed. There was nothing. It was an empty shell of a place he once hoped he could make a home of, and he was suddenly back because the place that had been his home, no longer existed. Just this.

He couldn’t bear it on top of his recurring nightmares. It was so much easier to immerse himself in work to avoid his thoughts and emotions. It was so much easier to avoid sleep, too, even though he often felt like he was stuck in his nightmares in plain daylight.

And so, that’s why he hardly spends any time here. He only shows up in the morning around six each day to shower and until recently, he’s been staying once a week to sleep thanks to you. Miguel leans back on the couch now as he remembers something from his dream. He scoffs silently as he thinks of Gabriel telling him to sleep and teasing him about gray hairs, which he’s sure he must have by now though he hasn’t noticed them.

“Gabrielito,” Miguel whispers with a small smile, shaking his head. “Trataré. Te lo juro.”

It’s another item on a long list of things Miguel will work on, little by little, but he will try. He’s already made up his mind. He will.

Miguel brings himself back to this moment. The TV is on and he can hear you in the kitchen cooking, yet another strange thing – for someone to be using the kitchen. He can’t help but focus on it. From the sound of cooking utensils and the opening and closing of cabinets and drawers; such mundane yet homey sounds.

Shortly after, Miguel hears your steps. The penthouse has a lovely scent from your cooking and when he looks up, he finds you carrying a plate with food for him. He feels both grateful and guilty at the sight. You’ve done so much for him and spent your weekend not only away from home but your entire universe to look after him. He’s glad the other spider members have kept watch over it while you’ve been here at least but there’s still guilt that you’ve been away for too long.

You don’t mind though. You haven’t even thought about how this is the first time you’ve been away from your apartment in a while, including your universe and you’ve no idea Miguel is thinking about this either, as his face reveals nothing about the matter. He offers you a small smile and thanks you, once again, for everything before you help him. You feel satisfaction when Miguel finishes everything with a delighted look on his face, a far different reaction from when he ate the steamed carrot from the infirmary.

Once he’s done eating, you eat, too. You clean the kitchen afterward and wonder what you’ll make for dinner as you’re still not in the mood for cafeteria or takeout food. On top of that, the way Miguel enjoyed the food lets you know he, too, prefers something homemade. You mentally go through all your groceries from back home and think about what you can cook. You remember a specific Mexican dish you enjoy and wonder if he’d like to eat that. It’s easy to cook but delicious and filling, so you ask Miguel how he feels about it when you finish cleaning the kitchen. 

“Hey, I was thinking about dinner. How do you feel about flautas?”

Miguel meets your gaze with a bit of a smile. It almost looks like he’s trying not to smile. He nods. “Flautas sound great. I can help you if you want,” he offers, with a glint in his eyes.

“You can give me advice from one of the stools.” 

“Just advice?” 

“And conversation, if you’d like. Nothing else though, as you still can’t lift your arms too much,” you say as you take a seat across from him on the other couch. 

Miguel at last gives you a small smile. “Advice and conversation it is then,” he replies softly, amused by your refusal to let him do more to help with dinner. 

You give him a small smile before you grab the tablet Ben Reilly gave you over the weekend. You’re not even surprised by the fact that it still has battery after how much you’ve used it considering all devices in Miguel’s universe have better battery life. At the sight of the tablet, Miguel remembers his pending question for you regarding the reports. 

“Working on the report?” 

“Yes, I’m just editing it now. It’ll be ready for Jess to cover tomorrow for the meetings.” 

Miguel nods, thinking about what he’s about to talk to you about. It’s one of the few things on his mind right now. “I wanted to ask you…” 

You look up, wondering if he’s in any discomfort you haven’t noticed yet, though Miguel looks fine. His natural color has fully returned now, and his energy is higher. He’s on the right track in his recovery. Still, your eyes quickly take in his appearance, finding nothing wrong. You relax again but wonder what’s on his mind.

“I noticed you seem to like working on the report and I was wondering if you’d like to work on them from here on now – with me,” Miguel says, meeting your eyes. “And Lyla,” he adds, remembering her just now.

You hold Miguel’s gaze, processing his offer. You weren’t expecting him to say that, so there’s a bit of surprise on your face, which is noted by Miguel. A few seconds later, you nod with a smile. 

“Yeah – I’d like to. Thank you.” 

Miguel nods, giving you a small smile. “Great. And once I’m back – hopefully by Wednesday – we can talk about when to start the system training for you and Peter. We could start this week if the two of you are available.” 

Still smiling, you nod. “That sounds great. I’ll be available. As long as there’s no emergency, I’m clear.” 

Miguel nods, feeling relieved and happy that you’ve agreed. “Great – It’s – It’ll be great having you on the team – for the reports,” he says, feeling a little bit flustered. “Later this week we can discuss how we’ll approach it.” 

You continue to smile and nod. “That sounds wonderful. I look forward to it! Thank you again,” you reply softly, noticing Miguel’s reaction. The significance of this doesn’t elude you. You know Miguel hardly asks for help or lets others collaborate with him but he’s invited you to work with him on the reports now and then there’s the system training, too. You look down at the tablet once Miguel nods at your reply, not wanting to make him uncomfortable as you understand these sort of situations are not easy for him. Still, you think about it and what it could mean. 

Miguel O’Hara, founder and leader of the Spider Society, has asked if you want to help with the reports from here on now. On top of that, he’s open to teaching selective members, you being one of the first two approved members, how the society’s network system works. 

You can’t help but wonder if the events of this weekend have impacted the man sitting across from you more than you thought. That maybe, he found himself at a crossroads and he has chosen a different path. You imagine that coming face to face with death will do that to someone. You sigh silently as you begin editing the report, hoping. 

Once you’re done, you show the completed report to Miguel, who looks pleased with your work. With Miguel’s approval, you send it to Jess for tomorrow’s meeting. 

The two of you spend the rest of the day in the living room. You remember that you didn’t finish the film series the two of you started watching over the weekend, so you resume where you left off, taking walking breaks with Miguel since his body finds relief in stretching since he’s not used to sitting and laying down as much. This time when you start watching the third movie, the one that neither of you could understand until you realized it was the third installment, the two of you finally understand what’s happening.

By the end of the fourth movie, you look over at Miguel and find him sleeping. He’s laying on the couch with his head propped on pillows you retrieved from his bedroom earlier since you helped him lie down in the last walking break. 

The fifth movie starts playing and you leave it on, not wanting to disturb Miguel’s sleep with sudden silence. You look at the tablet to check the time halfway through, realizing you should probably go and collect all the ingredients you’ll be needing for dinner since you’ll have to travel to your universe. You look over at Miguel again, who’s been asleep the entire time, and feel relief that he’s resting.

You recall what Jess said to Peter B. and you before Miguel woke up on Saturday. She mentioned there was a chance Miguel would try and wave the situation off like nothing. That he’d probably try to jump back to work right away. You were worried he was going to try, especially when he started talking about scheduled meetings and the unfinished report shortly after waking up on Saturday. Yet, Miguel hasn’t pushed himself to go back to work nor argued with you about resting or taking it easy.

Instead, Miguel has allowed himself to be taken care of. You know it hasn’t been easy and there have been times that his embarrassment was visible, like the first time you helped him eat or when you wiped his mouth clean. You remember the slight tint on his cheeks and the aversion of his gaze. No, this weekend wasn’t easy for Miguel at all for obvious reasons but also because of the amount of trust and vulnerability he had to show.

Yet, he wanted you to stay. You know that. In his in-and-out state of mind after he was resuscitated, he asked you to stay. You smile sadly now. It was only in that vulnerable moment that his mind wasn’t protected by his usual boundaries, that he was able to say that out loud. Not only did he want you to stay but he also trusted you with his care. So much happened this weekend but at least it wasn’t all bad. There was some good, too. You feel as though a lot was said even if it wasn’t said out loud. It feels like another step forward.

You continue to watch Miguel. The sight of him sleeping brings you comfort as he looks comfy and peaceful. Your gaze moves to his chest for a few seconds, watching the movement intently. His chest rises and falls evenly; a sign that he’s alive and well. It feels as though you’ve spent the majority of the weekend doing this; making sure he’s there and that this isn’t some dream you’ve thrown yourself into to escape the bitter reality that you’ve lost someone once again but thankfully, this isn’t a dream. 

Still, your mind leads you to two brief thoughts. The first is about how you watched Miguel die and how that makes him the second close person in your life that you’ve seen pass away. Except the two situations you’ve witnessed ended differently with one of them making it. That leads to your second thought on how Peter’s death anniversary was only a few days ago and if something had happened with Miguel – it would’ve been just days apart. 

The thought alone fills you with a heavy feeling. You’ve known you care about Miguel for a long time now, so it’s not a surprise but as you sit there and reflect, you realize just how much you care about him. It suddenly hits you all at once and you don’t even want to think where you would be right now. You’re just now fully moving forward and if things had turned out differently with Miguel – you know you would’ve been thrown right back to square one.

But you’re not in that scenario. You’re here and Miguel’s alive, sleeping across from you safely with that same peaceful and boyish look on his face that makes you smile but also wonder if this is the first time Miguel has slept this much consecutively in a while. Even when you were first recruited into the Spider Society, it wasn’t hard to pick up on the founder’s habits, especially when other members talked about it. You learned quickly that he worked day and night, which meant he probably didn’t sleep much.

And so, you can’t help but wonder how long it’s been since Miguel has rested like this. You don’t know but with his sudden acceptance to let people help him more at HQ, you hope he’ll also start to sleep better.

With one last glance, you head to the kitchen. You check what Miguel has already and then make a quick trip to your universe to gather other items, including more clothes for yourself, before you return to Miguel’s penthouse. You check on him once you return, finding Miguel still sleeping before you head back to the kitchen and start working on dinner.

You check on Miguel regularly as you work on dinner, making sure he’s alright. All throughout, he sleeps peacefully and it’s not until your third or fourth round that you find him waking up. He yawns softly before he looks up at you.

“I’m sorry. It seems I fell asleep at some point,” he apologizes, pulling the blanket down softly.

“Don’t worry. It’s good that you’re resting,” you answer walking closer to him. “I’m almost done with dinner in case you’re hungry.”

He nods. “I can smell it. It smells – amazing,” he says softly, meaning it. “Thank you again. I really appreciate it,” he adds quietly, and you nod.

“Always.” You clear your throat quietly. “Do you want to get up and stretch?”

Miguel nods. “Yes, please. And I did say I’d give you advice and conversation – maybe I’m not too late.”

You chuckle as you pull the blanket from him, placing it to the side before you help him up. He winces slightly as most of his pain is now focused on the trident wound. You’re careful with him as you lead him to the kitchen and help him take a seat. You make sure he’s comfortable before you walk to the stove to check on the food. 

Miguel settles on the chair, the pain subsiding slowly. He silently hopes that by tomorrow it’ll be better so he can start moving his arms more. He looks around the kitchen, the scent of the food filling his nostrils even more now that he’s at the heart of the cooking. He spots sour cream, fresh cheese, green salsa, and cut cabbage, which looks prepared with lime juice. It seems that you have all the toppings for the flautas ready. 

You carefully make more flautas by rolling tortillas with the filling and putting toothpicks through them so they’ll hold while they cook in the pan with hot oil. Miguel’s eyes land on you as you add the first batch. 

He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s still waking up or if it’s something else but he can’t help but think how the penthouse feels different right now. It’s as if you’ve brought a warmness to his penthouse. A homey feeling that makes this place feel less lonely, cold, and empty.

You turn around and walk to his fridge to retrieve a pitcher before grabbing ice on a scoop from the freezer. You place both things in front of Miguel and grab two glasses, making Miguel notice that you’ve found your way around his kitchen perfectly. 

“I made some agua de jamaica. Would you like some?” you offer. 

“Agua de jamaica…? Yes, please. Thank you,” he says with a bit of surprise. “I haven’t had any in – God, I don’t know. Years, I think,” he admits as he watches you pour some for him after adding ice. Once done, you carefully slide the glass to him across the counter. 

Suddenly, the irony of this moment doesn’t elude either of you. Months ago, Miguel did the same for you at your apartment with a different drink under different circumstances. Miguel meets your eyes and all you can do is hold each other’s gazes as the two of you silently think of the same thing. At last, you smile softly, earning yourself a soft grin from Miguel. 

“I’ll get you a straw, hold on. I think I saw some reusable ones somewhere,” you mutter as you turn around to search. Miguel is about to tell you where they’re located but you find them right away. You walk around the counter to him, sliding the straw into the glass before you grab it and hold it up for him to drink, making sure to hold the straw steady for him. He leans forward and tries it. 

Miguel almost sighs at the wonderful taste. It’s not too bitter nor too sweet; it’s perfect. Miguel sips quietly, drinking half of the glass in one go as he’s taken back to the days when he used to drink this frequently. Seeing him almost finish the glass makes you happy, though you mask it to avoid making Miguel uncomfortable. At last, he releases the straw and leans back. 

“It’s really good,” Miguel says quietly. “You just reminded me how long it’s been since I’ve enjoyed an agua fresca, specifically this one. It’s one of my favorites,” Miguel shares. “Thank you.” 

You put the glass down on the counter and nod with a small smile. “I’m glad you liked it. I don’t know why but I remembered I had some hibiscus leaves at home and I thought it would be perfect with the flautas.” 

“Flautas and agua de Jamaica –” Miguel pauses, wanting to tell you that you’re spoiling him with such a meal. He looks down, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as he debates telling you his thoughts. “You’re spoiling me,” he admits at last, quietly. 

Your smile grows as you hear his words. “You haven’t tried the flautas yet. Maybe let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You might not even like them,” you say with a chuckle before you walk to the stove to flip them. 

Miguel grins, watching you. “I doubt they’ll be anything but amazing. I mean… It smells great and you have salsa,” he says eyeing the green salsa, hoping it’s spicy. 

“I think I made it too spicy but hopefully you like it,” you say as you continue to flip the first batch of flautas.

Miguel remains quiet but after a few seconds he responds with an amused tone. “I’m sure I’ll be able to handle it.” 

You hum in response as you prepare a container to put the flautas in once they’re done cooking, before setting it aside. It catches Miguel’s eyes. He doesn’t even remember where it came from or where it was stored, which makes him realize just how acquainted you’ve become with his kitchen, much like he did with yours so many months ago. Miguel thinks about that day and how he fixed some of the things in your kitchen while you slept. For a few seconds, he wonders if they’re still working fine before his thoughts shift to another pending question for you.

He’s been searching for the perfect time to ask... What were you doing at HQ so late when you discovered something was wrong? He wonders if you needed something – maybe someone to talk to. Maybe you were sleepless and you thought of him. And of course, the one time you may have needed him, he wasn’t there for you because his insistence to go alone on solo night missions got him in trouble for once. He’s been wondering ever since Jess and Lyla mentioned you being the one that found out he was in trouble, and right now seems like a good time. The two of you are in a good mood and there’s no one else, so that means no interruptions. 

“Y/N… May I ask you a question?” he asks. 

You finish checking on the food and place the tongs away before turning around to face him. He has a very serious look on his face; one that worries you. You approach the counter and nod. 

“Sure… What do you want to ask me?” 

Miguel’s eyes meet yours. “What were you doing at HQ so late on Friday? Or, rather Saturday morning, I suppose,” he says quietly. 

You hold his gaze for a few seconds before you look at the glasses on the counter. You suspected that at one point he was going to ask, you just didn’t expect him to ask so soon. You thought you’d have more time because hell, you haven’t had time to really think about it. You hoped you’d have more time so you could explain everything properly, especially after you told Jess what happened. Jess may have thought that she fooled you but you didn’t fail to notice that she wanted to say more on the matter. There was also the way she looked at you afterward. It made you feel as though what happened was something major and really strange. 

Almost like nothing close to it has ever happened before and if it has, it’s rare. You can’t help but worry. If Jess held back and found the situation odd or as something shocking, then you wonder what Miguel’s reaction will be. You don’t want to alarm him, to make him feel like – You don’t even know how because you haven’t had time to properly think about it but now Miguel is asking, and he thinks you were at HQ for some other reason and that you just happened to discover something was wrong when in reality he was the reason you were there at all.  

But – you won’t lie. So, you sigh quietly and grab your glass with agua de jamaica, taking a long drink before you set the glass back down. You check on the flautas over your shoulder; they look fine. You do this in the span of a few seconds, knowing that you can’t and shouldn’t prolong answering Miguel’s question or then, it’ll make it seem like you don’t want to tell him and he may find the events even more uncomfortable or weird. You look up at him, once again feeling the irony that you’re in his kitchen cooking and looking after him the way he did for you so long ago.

You offer Miguel a smile and shake your head at last.

“It wasn’t like that,” you say, meeting his gaze. Still smiling softly, you continue. “You want to know how we found you?” 

Miguel nods, though he wants to correct you. There was no “we,” just you. You were the one that found him on the rooftop. The one that discovered something was wrong by going into his lab for some unknown reason.

“I’m just – curious,” he replies, and you nod.

“Yeah, I understand. I’d like to know, too,” you say quietly and pause for a few seconds before you start. “It was three in the morning and I was at home sleeping.”

Miguel’s eyebrows furrow, confused, yet he doesn’t interrupt you. He notices the way you’re being careful with your words, as if you fear that the wrong word will set him off.

“Out of nowhere,” you pause. “I woke up. My spidey senses were going off and – I quickly got up to check my two-way radio.” You look away for a second at the counter. “I was certain it was something in my city, you know? But for once, my city was fine, and nothing came from the radio.” You look up at him again. “I suited up and I went out to check regardless because my senses kept going off. I looked around my city and there was… nothing. Everything was fine in my universe, at least. So, I decided to go to, you know, other universes like Hobie’s, Miles’s, Gwen’s… I did a quick check to figure out what was happening but each universe was fine. There was no emergency and yet,” you pause and shrug slightly. “My senses were still warning me. I traveled to multiple universes in the span of two minutes, I think, trying to figure out what was happening until I finally realized I should tell you because maybe it had something to do with the multiverse.”

You quickly check the flautas again, looking behind your shoulder. You don’t want to end up letting the food burn or worse, cause a fire in his home. You face Miguel again when you see the flautas look okay. Miguel continues to watch you, hanging onto every word you say. He notices that you find this hard to talk about and he slowly begins to understand why the more you share what happened.  

“So, I went to HQ and um – I called for Lyla so that she could let you know that I was there but she didn’t respond like she normally does. I tried again and once I saw that she wasn’t responding I just – I felt that something wasn’t right. So, I decided to go into your lab and figured that I’d just apologize for intruding later but when I did – your lab was empty. The screens were red, and you – you were nowhere to be found.”

You look down at the counter and sigh silently. “And so – I reached out to Margo and you know – she never goes to bed at a reasonable time. She always goes to sleep so late and – anyway, I for once hoped that she didn’t listen to our encouragement on fixing her sleeping schedule. Thankfully she didn’t because she immediately showed up and started working on the system once I told her that it wasn’t working and that – oh yes, I was trying to reach you through your gizmo but it said you were offline.” 

You look up at Miguel, who still hasn’t taken his eyes off you as he listens to your recollection of the night. He watches you with both guilt and ache because he can see that talking about it is hard for you. It’s obvious to Miguel with how you’re pausing and looking away from his eyes.  Then, there’s the fact that despite everything, you still thought about apologizing for going into the lab if you had found him there, which just makes Miguel want to smile and tell you that you don’t need to ask or notify him anymore; that you haven’t had the need to do so in a really long time but he just hasn’t told you yet because of what it would mean and because he has a feeling that you’ll continue to do it regardless because you’re always so respectful. 

But for now, he wants to stop you, so that you don’t have to continue thinking about that night, yet you carry on. “We realized something wasn’t right with your offline status, so while she started fixing the system… I actually came here to look for you,” you say quietly, holding his gaze. “I hoped you’d be here.”

Miguel holds your gaze, feeling like someone is squeezing his heart with your last statement. You were hoping he was here, safe.

You give him a sad smile.

“I checked every room and you weren’t here. I went back to HQ, knowing that something was definitely wrong. It was confirmed when Margo got Lyla back and she told us very briefly what happened, so – I headed to Earth-42 and soon, we had a whole search team looking through the city until we found you…” you trail off.

“You found me,” Miguel says. “I remember… It was just you before everyone else arrived.”

You hold his gaze and nod. Miguel’s mind is whirling with thoughts about everything you’ve said.

“Your spidey senses… They warned you about me,” Miguel states, not as a question but as a fact. 

“I don’t know how that’s even possible,” you admit. “But the good thing is we found you and we brought you back home.”

Miguel nods but he still wants to correct you. It was you that found him. You alone. You somehow also knew what building to check, and he has a strong feeling that it’s related to the first mission you joined him in but that isn’t the most important part of this. It’s the fact that your spidey senses were tipped off across the multiverse - for him, who doesn’t even possess that ability. Yet, somehow across the vast multiverse, you sensed his situation. 

As he continues to hold your gaze, Miguel remembers you were the last person he thought about before his consciousness first slipped. From that point on, he was in and out of it but suddenly you were there, kneeling by his side talking to him and shielding his face from the cold rain with your own mask; slipping your gizmo into his wrist to protect him from glitching. All because your spidey senses went off… For him.

He doesn’t understand how it’s impossible. He thinks about it, going through multiple explanations as he possibly can in the moment but one thought keeps popping up. It feels like it’s the only one that holds despite having no scientific evidence. 

There’s a bond between the two of you. 

A connection that’s strong enough to travel across the multiverse. It both worries and comforts Miguel. There’s that fear - that fear that he’ll lose you, too - and this only adds to it. How will he ever go on if that ever happens when such connection exists? And yet, there’s comfort from it, too. To know that even in your deep and peaceful sleep, away in your own universe, you sensed his danger because of this connection. And that very same bond allowed you to find him, to save him.  

Miguel’s gaze softens. “Thank you,” he says quietly with a heavy tone, as if moved by your words, and he is. He has a lot to thank you for and wishes he could do and say more. He wishes he could find a way to show you how thankful he is for everything - for you. 

Smiling, you nod slowly. “Always…” you quietly answer in Miguel’s kitchen, feeling glad that you’ve told him. It’s out now. You were worried Miguel would react negatively but instead he’s thanking you and there’s a look on his face - like he’s thinking of something else - like he knows something that you don’t. You want to ask but despite everything, you remain the same as always. You don’t push his boundaries. 

Suddenly, you remember the food. “Oh, shoot,” you say and quickly walk to the stove, sighing in relief when you see the flautas are intact. “They’re good!” You quickly take them out, placing them on the container you prepared earlier. Miguel smiles at you as you do this. 

You add a new batch to the pan before you walk back to the counter, feeling the need to change the conversation now so you pour yourself more agua de jamaica. You take a sip and nod. 

“I forgot how good this is,” you say quietly, placing the glass down and looking up at Miguel, who has been unable to look away from you. 

He’s determined to do this. He’s thought about it so many times now but suddenly he feels a stronger push to seek this journey. This journey that felt so unreachable even in his dreams because they were always plagued by nightmares but now - as he sits across from you with everything that’s happened this weekend in his mind - he feels as though he can reach over and graze that journey - that possibility - with his fingertips. 

It’s there like it’s never been there before, and hell, Miguel is going to reach for it. He wants to. For his family. For you. For him. 

“It’s so refreshing,” Miguel replies, feeling overwhelmed with everything going on in his mind but he still eyes his own glass, which you notice. 

“You want more?”

Miguel nods and so you help him take another sip. You finish cooking the last batch of flautas and fix two plates. It doesn’t occur to you until you’re ready to help Miguel eat that flautas, much like empanadas, are finger food. So you find yourself helping him eat much like you did that day, holding a flauta from one end as he bites from the other one. You also forgot how messy flautas can be with all the toppings, so you find yourself cleaning his mouth more than you did with the empanadas. 

“I’m so sorry, I completely forgot utensils can’t be used to eat this or how messy eating flautas can be sometimes,” you apologize quietly as you gently wipe the corner of his mouth but Miguel shakes his head slightly, trying not to move much. 

“It’s alright. I didn’t think about it either when you suggested them. I guess we were both in need of a homemade meal. So much that we forgot to think ahead,” Miguel replies once you withdraw your hand, sounding amused. “It’s so worth it though. These are some of the best flautas I’ve ever had. Thank you again for this amazing meal.”

You put the napkin down and chuckle. “Always, and yes. I was a bit tired of cafeteria food. I was so relieved Jess and her husband sent us homemade food yesterday. I just missed it,” you answer. “And I thought it’d be better for you, too, as part of your recovery.”

You take a bite from one of your own flautas now, for once eating at the same time since Miguel asked. He hasn’t liked the fact that you’ve been eating after him, with your food growing cold. On top of that, this makes it feel more like you’re actually eating a meal together. You finish eating and take a quick sip of your drink before offering Miguel his own glass. He quietly accepts it and drinks as you hold the glass for him. 

The two of you sit side by side on the island chairs, facing each other. Miguel is slightly slouched to accommodate you for his height, making it easier for you to bring the food to his mouth. As you do so, you can feel Miguel’s warmth radiating off him, especially on your legs, since they’re slightly pressed against his so you can reach him but it doesn’t seem to bother Miguel. 

Once you’re both done eating, you clean up the kitchen to make sure it’s back to the way it was: spotless. The two of you talk quietly as you clean, and you have to decline Miguel’s help more than twice because he insists he should do something. You finish cleaning by wiping down the last counter, noticing the time on the stove’s clock when you look up. It’s still early but Miguel still needs a shower and his wounds to be checked on. 

“Whenever you want, we can head upstairs so you can take a shower and I can look at your wounds.”

“We should probably do that now before it gets too late. I don’t want to keep you up and I’d like for you to finally rest on a proper bed, which reminds me, I’m sorry you had to sleep on that thing,” Miguel mutters, sounding upset. 

“Don’t worry about it! It was actually comfortable,” you reply with a smile as you stand across from him. 

“I don’t know how but you did look comfortable.”

You shrug. “It was comfortable, really. Don’t worry about it or about keeping me up but you - you should rest properly. Resting on the couch is not the same as resting on a bed and I bet you’ll feel far more comfortable in your own bed, especially after a shower,” you say. 

Miguel’s head tilts to the right. “Alright, it does sound better than the hospital bed.”

You chuckle. “Well, whenever you’re ready”

Miguel tells you he’s ready and with that, you help him up the stairs and into his bathroom. Like the previous day, you fix the shower head so his wounds are not directly hit by the water and leave towels within reach for him. Thankfully, Miguel’s bathroom is large and spacious, and even has a built-in bench that’ll help you wash his upper body. You leave him to wash his lower body and head downstairs to quickly make some canelita. Since you remembered the day Miguel went to your apartment for the first time months ago, you thought about it, too, and now you feel like it’d be something nice to end the day with. Maybe it’ll even help Miguel relax before he goes to sleep. You put water and cinnamon sticks into a pot before you put it on the stove to boil. You head back upstairs and prepare everything you’ll need to take care of Miguel’s wounds. You also prepare his bed, thinking it’ll be so much more comfortable and spacious than the hospital’s with his king size bed. 

You head back downstairs to check on the canelita, surprised to see it’s already boiling. You add more water to it before returning upstairs to check on Miguel. You know it’ll be a while before he’s ready since you asked him to take his time to avoid hurting himself accidentally. You walk to one of the windows to look out for a few minutes before you return downstairs to check on the canelita. You turn it off when you see it’s ready and get two mugs out before going back upstairs. 

You enter Miguel’s bedroom just as he calls your name, ready for your help. 

You help Miguel wash his torso like the day before using the built in bench to do so. You notice Miguel seems far more relaxed, especially because the two of you make conversation as you repeat the same process from yesterday. You start from his shoulders until you finally reach his lower abdomen with your careful and gentle touch all throughout. You wash his arms and then his back before you eventually start on his hair.

Miguel sits sideways on the bench with his head thrown back to give you easier access. Your fingers glide through his hair as you lather the shampoo into his scalp. His eyes are closed, not only because you asked him to avoid getting any shampoo in them but also because he’s once again overwhelmed by the pleasant sensation of your fingers. He thought it’d be easier today but he finds himself clutching the towel around his waist once again. Internally, he’s just glad that the two of you are conversing so he can focus on that and avoid embarrassing himself with any accidental noises escaping from him. 

You finish by rinsing his hair out and drying the excess water with a towel, taking the chance to dry his neck and shoulders, too, since water made its way to those areas. You clean his face with lukewarm water and reusable cotton pads, telling him you’ll clean it again after he brushes his teeth.  

As you do so, you can’t help yourself and once again, take in every detail of Miguel’s face. You're so lost in concentration that you don’t notice Miguel’s own eyes doing the same with your face; observing everything from the color of your eyes to your eyelashes to the bridge of your nose and lips. His gaze grazes every inch of your face. You smile a bit when you notice some stubble on Miguel, which he notes. 

“What is it?” he asks softly. 

“Just noticed you have some stubble.”

“Oh, yes. Maybe tomorrow I can move my arms more and take care of it,” he says as you glide the cotton pad over his cheek. 

You nod. “I’m sure tomorrow you’ll be able to move more. Just try not to push it, okay? And if you still can’t reach your face, I can do it if you trust me,” you say quietly as you move to the other cheek, which makes Miguel smile faintly. 

“After all your help, it would be silly not to trust you with a razor to my face.”

You chuckle. “I guess that’s fair. I can help you tomorrow then. Alright, done.” You back away slowly and put the cotton pads away. “Do you want sweatpants and a jacket to sleep in?”

“I think I can go without the jacket tonight,” Miguel answers, straightening up gently before meeting your gaze. “The place won’t be as cold as the infirmary room.” 

“As long as you’re comfortable, it’s your choice. Let me get your clothes then.” You quickly collect the clothes for Miguel before returning to the bathroom with them. You place the sweatpants on the counter and hold on to his boxers to help him start dressing. 

The two of you succeed again by sticking to the same method from yesterday and in minutes, Miguel is dressed, ready for you to take care of his wounds. The process takes about fifteen minutes while the two of you talk about how much better his wounds look. You also notice he doesn’t wince as much as he did the day before. You lean back when you’re done, giving Miguel, who is sitting at the edge of his bed, more space. You slide the office chair you brought from his office back, taking a look at the injuries from afar. 

“Was that alright? Any discomfort?” you ask, as you put the supplies away. 

“None at all,” Miguel answers. “Thank you.”

You nod. “Do you want anything else to eat or drink? While you were showering I made some canelita. Would you like some?”

Miguel looks at you with surprise. “Really? I… You’ve done so much already, you shouldn’t have,” Miguel says softly, looking away in embarrassment. He can’t help but think about the fact that you cooked twice today on top of helping him shower and move around, and yet you’re still going out of your way to make him even more comfortable.

“I remembered it earlier and thought it would be nice. It’s not a big deal, Miguel. You know it’s not hard to make, so don’t worry about it, okay?” you say gently, trying to reassure him. “Now, would you like some? I think it’d be nice to drink before bed.”

Miguel finally looks back at you with a soft sigh. He nods and smiles faintly. “I can’t say no to canelita, so yes, I’d love some, please. And thank you, again,” he says, still smiling faintly, which makes you smile in return. 

“Great! I’ll go get you some then. I’ll be right back.”

With that, you head downstairs and get two mugs of canelita on top of a straw before you head back upstairs. You find Miguel still sitting at the edge of his bed when you enter the bedroom. He seems to be looking towards the window but at the sound of your footsteps, he turns to face you. You place your mug on the window ledge so you can cool Miguel’s by stirring the straw around gently as you stare out the window. 

“I’m trying to cool it for you,” you say softly, still looking out. You can’t help but feel mesmerized by Nueva York’s beautiful sight at night. You’ve spent several days here but you’re truly taking it all in now that everything is much calmer regarding Miguel’s health.

“What are you thinking about?” Miguel asks, noticing the fascinated look on your face. 

“The view.”

Miguel nods, still looking at you and recalls you talking about the view earlier. He looks out the window, too; trying to see what you see. 

“You know… Sometimes, I get so wrapped up with what we do that I take this for granted,” you suddenly say as you turn to him, still trying to cool off the canelita for him. 

Miguel meets your gaze, surprised.

“You know what I mean? I’ve the chance to see flying cars and use this amazing technology.” You motion to the gizmo on your wrist. “I’ve visited so many universes. Work with so many versions of us. It’s just really amazing we can do this. To have each other...” you trail off, thinking about all your friends, including Miguel. You can’t help but think about the possibility of none of this happening. It could’ve very easily never been possible and there would be no Spider Society. All of you would’ve gone on never knowing about the existence of the multiverse or of each other. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m suddenly thinking about this. It’s all just so incredible. And it’s all possible thanks to you,” you quietly add, smiling. 

Miguel holds your gaze and gives you a soft smile. No one has ever thanked him for this, and it’s not like he’s expecting anyone to or even asking to be thanked. It feels nice but more importantly, your words make him pause. He’s been so busy that he’s never truly stopped and thought about how incredible it truly is. “It really is, isn’t it?” he asks quietly as he thinks about it more. He’s so used to the technology and always keeps himself busy, making it easy to forget and acknowledge how amazing it is. It just makes him realize how he, too, takes for granted many things in his universe. 

Miguel begins to make the attempt to get up, making you place the cup on the ledge quickly. “Hold on, Miguel. I’ll help you,” you say as you stand by his side. 

You help him up with ease but he winces slightly and pauses for a few seconds. His arm is around your waist as he lets the pain die down before he fully stands up, letting go of you slowly. 

“I’m starting to feel less and less pain,” he says and you nod, stepping away a little to give him space. He towers over you as he finds his balance, finding it easier than earlier. He nods and starts walking on his own. His steps are more determined than they’ve been the entire weekend, which is wonderful to see. You give him space but remain ready to help if needed, knowing that this is a great sign for Miguel’s recovery. He reaches the window and stands partially in front of it, as if leaving space for you. 

You walk closer and stand by him with plenty of space between the two of you. Miguel looks up at the sky, watching constellations. He can’t recall the last time he looked up at the night sky to see the stars, which fills Miguel with a sudden sadness. He composes himself and tries a different perspective, a less sadder one. He’s looking and appreciating it now and that’s what matters, right? He subtly looks down at you, noticing your gaze on the city before his eyes shift to the same view. He tries to see the place he grew up in through your eyes. He looks at the modern architecture, the flying cars, and the train to the moon, which he hasn’t been on since he was a teenager. He looks at it all with a new perspective - your perspective - and he’s filled with a sense of awe, realizing it is amazing.

After a few more seconds of silence, you offer him the canelita again. 

“I should sit down again or you won’t be able to reach me,” Miguel says as he starts to move but you make him pause. 

“I think I can lift myself for this,” you offer. “If you wish to stay like this, I can do it.” 

“What if you get burned?”

“I won’t. I’m sure it has cooled off by now.”

Miguel looks down at you and then nods. “But be careful… Please.”

You nod and grab his mug but before you do anything else, you put some of the liquid on your palm using the straw to make sure the liquid is suitable to drink. Satisfied, you walk closer and shoot a web to the ceiling before you slowly lift yourself to an appropriate height. 

“Just wanted to make sure it’s actually cooler now. Don’t want you burning your mouth through the straw,” you say as you hold the cup securely in your hand and bring it close to his mouth. With your finger, you keep the straw from moving as he leans closer to take a drink. You look out the window for a few seconds, as if giving Miguel privacy because of the close distance between the two of you now. A few seconds later, you face him again just as he steps back, nodding. 

“Very soothing,” he says quietly, looking at you as a soft smile appears on his face. “I’ll probably fall asleep very soon with this and the shower.”

“That was the plan,” you say with a chuckle. “You ought to rest. It’ll speed up the recovery.”

Miguel nods with that soft smile still on his face before the two of you continue to look at the city through his bedroom window, drinking canelita. Your gaze takes in everything about the city, and Miguel continues to look at it your way, realizing he’s taken this for granted even more than you, and that maybe he ought to stop and admire it more often. 

Miguel smiles faintly at you about thirty minutes later. He’s on his bed now and you’re fixing the covers over his body. Your fingers brush past his bare skin as you do so, and you subtly but quickly step back once you’re done though Miguel doesn’t seem to mind. 

“If you need anything, just let me know, okay?” you say, looking down at him with a soft smile. 

Miguel nods, looking at the gizmo on his nightstand. It dawned on you moments after you told Miguel he ought to rest that you’d be in different rooms tonight, which means that if he needs anything, you won’t be able to hear him. After telling him, you suggested you could sleep on the floor but of course, Miguel immediately rejected that idea. 

“You’re not sleeping on the floor, Y/N,” he quickly said with a stern tone followed by what you could only describe as a low growl. 

So, that idea was instantly scrapped until Miguel remembered he had an extra gizmo in the penthouse. He keeps all of them at HQ under tight security for obvious reasons but he’s always kept an extra one here, just in case, which is now sitting on his nightstand and will help him communicate with you if he needs anything. 

“I will, don’t worry. Thank you,” he says, still thinking about your suggestion. He wants to shake his head in disbelief at you. There’s no way in hell he would’ve allowed that. Ever. 

“Alright. I’m off then. Good night,” you say softly before you quickly retrieve the mugs from the window’s ledge. 

“Good night,” Miguel replies, eyes on you. 

You’re about to exit the room when he softly calls your name. You pause and turn around. Light from outside illuminates parts of his room, which makes it easier for you to see him. His eyes meet yours with a relaxed and soft look on his face. 

“I just wanted to tell you - thank you. For everything,” Miguel says in the darkness.

You smile softly, not failing to hear the way he emphasizes the last word. “Always, Miguel… Good night,” you whisper. 

“Good night,” Miguel whispers back before you pull the door after you exit, leaving it ajar. 

With your retreating steps, Miguel lays on the bed and stares at the ceiling now. He suddenly has a sensation wash over him. The one that lets you know that you'll remember every detail of a specific event or moment for years to come, no matter how much time goes by. Miguel has that sensation now. He’ll remember this entire weekend, this moment, for the rest of his life. 

He hums faintly, looking up at the ceiling before he closes his eyes, ready to fall asleep. Yet, he can’t, even though he’s tired and willing. It feels like twenty minutes pass by and Miguel is still awake. He’s perfectly comfortable on the bed. He’s tired and sleepy but he cannot fall asleep. With his eyes still closed, he sighs and starts thinking about the previous nights and how easy it was to fall asleep even though the infirmary room wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world; the room was very cold and the bed wasn’t nearly as comfortable as his own is. His bedroom is definitely far more comfortable but… It’s missing something that the infirmary room had, or rather someone. 

Miguel’s eyes snap open with that thought. 

“Mierda,” Miguel whispers as he realizes. 

You’re not in the room sleeping nearby, letting your breathing call him to sleep. He lays there for a few minutes as the realization sinks in. He didn’t realize how much the sound of your breathing while you slept helped him the last few nights. He sighs softly and closes his eyes, thinking about something. Maybe if he just…

He feels like an idiot for trying but he does it anyway and surprisingly, his brain has no difficulty. He recalls the sound of your breathing from the previous night by memory, perfectly. 

And it seems to work for tonight because Miguel succeeds and falls asleep soon after. 

★★★

Miguel moves around his kitchen with ease as he cooks. It’s Saturday, exactly one week since he woke up in the infirmary room. He can move his arms freely now and he’s been walking normally since Wednesday. His less serious injuries are fully healed while the trident wound has a day or two left before it's completely healed. Thankfully, Miguel feels better and more like himself, at least physically. 

It’s strange. It’s late in the afternoon on a Saturday, and he’s home instead of at HQ. He went in this morning to work on something but now he’s back and he has plans to stay the rest of the day here. If it goes his way, of course. 

Miguel pulls out a fresh lettuce from a delivery bag. He ordered groceries earlier to prepare dinner, finding it easier than going out to shop. He opens it and begins to pull some of the layers off before carefully washing the leaves. He cuts them into strips and when he’s done, he places it on a container, adding water to keep it fresh. He feels a little nervous but at the same time, he really wants to do it. It’s the least he can do after everything. He checks the meat he has on the stove, seeing that it’s halfway done. He stirs it before he leans back on the counter, looking around his penthouse as he thinks. 

He finds it hard to believe that only a few days ago you were staying here. You stayed a total of two nights and you somehow made the place feel different. Now, Miguel can’t seem to find that feeling. He grew so used to hearing your footsteps and drawers opening in the kitchen in such a short amount of time. Your presence has made Miguel realize that he misses having someone around like when he and Gabriel lived here together. His young brother made the place feel homier, much the same way you did. It didn’t feel empty, cold, or foreign.

He sighs, thinking about how he needs to find a way to make this place better because he hates how he feels when he’s back.

He remembers the first evening without you here. The penthouse was quiet and empty. He stared out the windows of the living room for a few minutes. It felt wrong. He walked upstairs and that feeling remained. He stopped in front of the guest room, or rather Gabriel’s old room, knowing it was empty. Yet, he pushed the door open and stepped in. There was no sign of your stay and Miguel found himself thinking it was very like you to leave the room the way you found it, seeing as you’re always so organized and tidy. Yet, it bothered him because it made it feel like you hadn’t stayed at all. Like it had been some kind of dream. 

He walked further into Gabriel’s old room, pushing his other feelings away. He doesn’t like to go in there much as it still pains him when he thinks of the days they used to live together before he moved out to the next floor. There are some belongings of Gabriel left though; some of his books on repairing. At the sight of them, Miguel picked one up before he sat down on the bed. He started flipping the pages, finding his brother’s messy writing on the margins with notes and measurements. It was then that his nose picked up on it. The only sign that you had been there at all was your scent. 

Miguel ignored it as he continued to try and decipher Gabriel’s handwriting. He laid on the bed, resting his head on the pillows as he held the book up trying to figure out what a specific portion of text said. Suddenly, your scent was awakened by his movement, filling his nostrils and he found himself breathing deeply. He found comfort in it before he started to think he was being weird. He left the room pretty soon after, closing the door after himself and forgetting about it until later that night when he found himself in bed, once again unable to sleep. 

He tried playing your breathing in his head. It helped the previous two nights perfectly but suddenly it wasn’t working. He was tired and willing to go to sleep unlike so many nights but yet he couldn’t reach it. He got up, ready to pace like always but ended up in Gabriel’s room instead. He stood before the bed for a while with a thought on his mind but he knew it was too much. Yet, he also knew it was two in the morning and nothing was working. So he did it, thinking it didn’t hurt to try. He pulled the covers and got in bed. 

He laid there, eyes closed as your scent engulfed him like cloud formations, and the memory of your breathing playing in his head. He woke up the next day with Lyla peppering him with questions about why he was sleeping in Gabriel’s room and poking fun at him because she had to wake him up. He got in the shower, wondering. Was he in such a bad state that he needed to hear someone’s breathing and their scent to sleep?

He also questioned how he was going to sleep later on. It seemed that simply recalling the sound of your breathing wasn’t enough anymore. The only reason he had slept the previous night was because of your scent. So now, not only does he have to figure out how to make his home better but also find a solution to his sleeping problem. Your scent is still present in Gabriel’s room but he knows that within a few days, it’ll be gone. He’s been thinking about buying candles or something of the sort. Otherwise, he might find himself unable to sleep when he’s now trying. 

Miguel shakes his head and remembers to check the meat. He stirs the food carefully, remembering how much you liked this dish on Christmas Eve, which is why he’s making it. He’s spent the rest of the week getting back to work, figuring out what was done and how it was done but he’s also been thinking about how to thank you properly. He thanked you that first night you stayed over and again the following day, and then once more on Wednesday morning. He had his movement back and there was no need for you to stay another night away from your universe. The two of you knew it. You had breakfast together one last time in his kitchen and then you were there, standing with your travel bag packed and ready to go and the sight of it made - Miguel stops. He doesn’t want to think of that moment because thinking about it includes admitting how he felt when he saw you with your travel bag in hand. He felt a wave of something rush over him. Sadness.

As soon as he realized what he was feeling, he felt appalled. He’s already on edge with admitting out loud that you’re his friend and suddenly he was feeling sadness that you were leaving and he wondered, if your departure alone made him feel like that - what would he feel if something ever happened to you? 

Miguel knows he’s grown fond of you. He’s grown attached to you. Perhaps too much, considering your scent and the sound of your breathing are the only two things that have helped sleep so far. 

“Definitely too much,” Miguel mutters to himself with a sigh. 

He looks at the clock to check the time. He’ll be sending you a message soon to ask if he can drop by your place. He plans on inviting you for dinner and surprising you with burritos de tinga, as you seemed to really enjoy them on Christmas Eve but now he wonders if he should’ve asked you sooner. For all he knows, you may have plans with your other friends or on your own. He decides he can cook another day for you as a way to thank you, if that’s the case. He just wants to do this as a way to show you his gratitude, even when he knows nothing he ever does or says will ever fully be enough to show his appreciation and gratitude to you - for you.

He sends his message ten minutes later before he adds sliced onions to the meat. Your reply arrives about two minutes later, telling him you’re home and that he can drop by. He lets you know it'll take about ten minutes, the amount of time it’ll take to finish cooking. Once he’s done, he places the lid on the pan to keep it warm, expecting to be back soon. 

He looks around briefly, making sure everything is ready before he opens a portal and travels to your dimension. In a matter of seconds, he steps out into your living room as small objects float in midair. His eyes take in the scene before him until they land on you. 

You’re sitting in the middle of your living room’s floor, leaning over your console table with a paintbrush in your hand and multiple blank picture frames laid out on it. The living room is… an organized mess. You look up at him just as the floating objects fall back into place and smile. Miguel blinks, the sight branded to his mind. 

“Please excuse the mess,” you say as you put down the paintbrush.

Miguel scans your face carefully, noticing paint on your cheek. He smiles back at you, finding the sight amusing before he looks around your apartment. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says softly.

Your walls are empty of decorations. Your console table is covered up to protect it from the paint. Your old rug is rolled up and propped against a wall next to another one still in its new wrapping. There’s a large unopened box with a picture of a bookcase and an extra couch wrapped in new protective material while your older one is partially covered. 

You’re redecorating your apartment. 

“I seem to have come at the wrong time,” Miguel says as he returns his gaze to you. 

You shake your head and get up, stretching slightly. Your arm pops, and you wince quietly before you give him a smile. “Don’t worry, it’s never a bad time. I’m just - redecorating,” you say as you look around briefly before returning your gaze to him. “May I get you something to drink? Thankfully my kitchen area is functional,” you say with a chuckle as you walk towards him, motioning to him to take a seat on one of the two chairs on your kitchen island. 

Miguel follows you, facing your kitchen now, which yes, appears to be spared from the redecorating. He watches as you walk into your kitchen and wash your hands carefully as he reaches the counter. He lays a hand on it just as his eyes flicker to the side where he finds an open laptop. He accidentally reads the multiple tabs you have open, all regarding storage units in your city. He quickly looks away, not wanting to invade your privacy. 

“Thank you but I’m alright,” Miguel replies as his gaze finds you again. 

You turn around and nod, leaning on your counter. “You sure?” you ask softly and stretch your shoulders again, feeling tension after painting pictures frames for a while since you decided to give them a new look instead of buying new ones. 

Miguel nods with a little smile. “Yes, I’m sure. Thank you though. I’m actually here because well -” Miguel pauses and straightens up. “I wanted to thank you again for everything and I know, you’re going to say I already did,” Miguel says once he sees you about to interject. “I know but I still want to do something to show you my immense gratitude. I cooked dinner and I was wondering if you’d like to join me tonight,” Miguel says quietly. 

You tilt your head slightly and smile at him. “That sounds wonderful, though you don’t need to do anything to show your gratitude, Miguel. You know why I did it,” you reply gently. 

“I know,” Miguel says, fully knowing why. He swallows, not knowing what gives him the sudden push to say the next words. “Then… You know why I’m doing this.”

His words take you by surprise, making you take a few seconds to acknowledge them, which in other circumstances they wouldn’t have left you feeling startled. With anyone else you’d smile, acknowledge them, and move on; maybe even throw in some banter because the friendship is constantly acknowledged verbally but the words didn’t come from just anyone. Those words are not as easy to say for Miguel as they are for you. You also know this is the closest you’ll get to hearing Miguel admit out loud he considers you a friend, too, before he directly admits it one day. You finally nod and smile softly, trying to keep it casual because you know this isn’t easy for Miguel and the last thing you want to do is make it a big deal in front of him, even though it is. 

“So, what did you cook?” you ask instead. 

Miguel gives you a soft smile, feeling relieved that you took his words well. “Burritos de tinga. I’ve made agua de jamaica, too.”

“Tinga?” you ask carefully with excitement, remembering how amazing his cooking was back on Christmas Eve. He nods, noticing a bit of a glimmer in your eyes. You chuckle and look around your apartment. It’s a mess. You nod. “I think I could use a break from looking at this mess. And burritos de tinga sound like the perfect way to forget about it for a little bit.” 

With a chuckle, Miguel nods and opens a portal. “I finished cooking a few minutes ago, so it’s just a matter of heating the tortillas.” 

Miguel tilts his head towards the portal, as if motioning to it. With a nod, you step out of your kitchen area just as Miguel moves aside to let you in first. The two of you find yourselves back in Miguel’s penthouse in seconds. You sigh in relief as you’re met with organization and tidiness, stepping aside in Miguel’s living room to let him lead the way. 

Miguel steps out, motioning for you to follow him to his kitchen and dining area. You look around a bit, feeling strange to be back so soon already but quickly put it aside as the lovely scent of food fills your nostrils. Your stomach growls in response, making Miguel look behind his shoulder with an amused look in his eyes. You don’t even try to hide it. 

“I was very close to ordering takeout,” you say as you reach the chairs.

“It's a good thing I messaged you at that time then,” Miguel says as he walks around the kitchen island to the fridge to take out the tortillas. “Go ahead and take a seat. I’ll start heating the tortillas.” 

You nod and sit on the second chair, leaving the one at the edge for him. You sigh softly and relax into the chair, just now realizing how exhausted you are even as a spider person. “Yes, it’s a good thing. This is a million times better than whatever I was going to get,” you say and chuckle as Miguel turns on the stove and puts a pan to heat the tortillas. He chuckles as he heads back to the fridge to retrieve a pitcher, the same one you used a few days ago. 

He grabs two glasses and ice and pours you some agua de jamaica, sliding it across the counter for you. “How long have you been working on it?” he asks as his eyes find the spot of paint on your cheek again. He doesn’t say anything about it and pours himself a drink, amused. 

You drink the contents of the glass, suddenly realizing how thirsty you are. You lift a finger, motioning to Miguel to give you a second as you drink more before finally setting the glass down. Miguel eyes it and motions to the pitcher as he takes a drink, too. You nod. 

“Yes, please,” you reply before he pours you more. “I started on Thursday morning with breaks in between and decided to try and finish it today, so I woke up extra early. I’m kind of hoping to finish it tonight but I don’t know if that’s going to happen.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow and nods. “You must be exhausted.” He also can’t help but wonder how you got the new couch into your apartment, considering you’re several floors up. 

“A little bit. I think I’ll feel good to go once I eat something. Thank you by the way,” you say softly, smiling. “You didn’t have to but I appreciate it.” 

Miguel nods with a soft smile before he turns around to check the pan. His hand hovers over the pan to feel the heat, and feeling satisfied with it, he places the first two tortillas. 

You look down at your refilled glass and drink some more before you lean back on the seat, feeling your back relax after being hunched over your table for who knows how long. You’re trying really hard not to think about Miguel’s indirect way of saying you’re his friend, so you decide to think of something else, like your apartment and the current mess it’s in. You wonder if you should keep going once you return home or if you should leave it for tomorrow but the idea of leaving the living room a mess another night bothers you. 

The place is a mess but you need to do it. You’ve put it off for four years now, keeping the apartment the same way it was while Peter was alive to cope with the fact that everything and everyone was moving forward while you were stuck in time; refusing to believe everything was over in the blink of an eye. Outside your apartment, people lived their lives. Flowers bloomed and died. Hot and humid days turned into cold and rainy ones with the promise of snow. Everything was moving forward and your apartment was the only place where you could pretend, even for just a few hours, that everything was the same.

You could pretend that Peter would come in through the door any minute from a quick run to the grocery store or from work. Or maybe he came back from collecting the mail, holding another package with new Spider-Woman merch to add to his collection even though you told him repeatedly he didn’t have to buy anything to show his support. He always did anyway and you could never get on to him. How could you? All he wanted to do was support you like he always did and of course, it was always a sight to see him wearing Spider-Woman merch. You smile sadly at your glass, and sigh silently.

So, you kept the apartment the same. You cleaned and tidied up the place regularly but things remained the same. You had the same furniture and kept it in the same place as if nothing had ever happened. You were okay with that, as it was one of your coping mechanisms until last Friday when you looked around, realizing that your apartment has remained untouched by time. 

But, everything and everyone has moved forward, and so have you. 

It hit you suddenly on Thursday, the first morning you woke up back at your place. You spent almost a whole week away but you didn’t think much of it. You woke up, brushed your teeth, and made your bed after leaving it unmade in the early hours of Saturday when your spidey senses were going off. You never imagined that you wouldn’t come back to it until days later. 

You finished making your bed before heading out of the room to get some breakfast but ended up pausing at the doorway, suddenly struck by everything. You were away for so long that the apartment smelled the way a place often does when you spend time away. You slowly walked to the middle of your living room and stood there, looking at everything as if you had stepped into someone else’s home and in a way, you had.

You stepped into the home of another version of you. A version of you that doesn’t exist anymore. You turned around and looked, finding remnants of a woman’s life that no longer exists. 

You stared at your wall with photographs for minutes as it laid out the reality for you. You were staring at pictures with people - once friends - that you now know nothing about. In fact, it reminded you of the time that you saved one of your old friends and their child when they were almost struck by a car. You remember being shocked to see your friend holding on to what appeared to be a two year old. You were so surprised you were only able to nod in response as they thanked you profusely before you swung away. 

Your memory only fueled your realization that the people on those photos were - are - different people now, and so are you. You looked around your space again, realizing the apartment was no longer an accurate representation of who you are or where you’re at in life - so you started the process. You took down the picture frames and removed the photos from a different life long gone with Peter, leaving you with empty picture frames to fill with photos of this new life. As you did that, you saw the rest of the apartment for the first time through a different perspective. You saw the beat up rug, the way that the bookcase’s shelves are dented in the middle from so many years of holding books, and your couch that has seen better days among other things that highlighted the truth.

As the morning sun streamed into your apartment, you saw a new vision for the space that you love and hold dear to your heart. Yes, it could use some improvement and the kitchen is especially a testament to that, as it has had some things here and there in the past, some of which Miguel fixed the first time he was there. You could move somewhere else, having the means to do so but you love it. You’ve loved it from the first moment you laid eyes on it when there was an opening to rent. You knew it was going to be the perfect place to start out before you and Peter eventually moved out, especially with early talks about a family one day but that isn’t in the works now. That’s in the past. Those were the plans of a woman who shared them with her partner. 

Now, you need new plans, even if they don’t fully include Peter. Not in the way you wish, at least. You’re not moving out and don’t plan to even though you’ve been in the same apartment for over five years and it could use some improvement; even when you don’t recognize your neighbors since the previous ones are long gone. 

No, you’re staying and changing your space to honor your current self, starting with the living room before you move to other areas of the apartment, slowly but surely. 

You look up at Miguel just as he slides a plate with burritos to you, your thinking face not going unnoticed by him but he doesn’t ask. He guesses it’s related to the current state of your apartment. You offer him a smile, letting go of your thoughts and focusing on this moment.

“Thank you,” you say and he nods before he walks around and sits next to you. 

He offers you the toppings and refills your glass from which you’ve been drinking from this whole time, making it your third glass. You thank him again and add the toppings to your plate.

The two of you start eating in silence for a few minutes, simply enjoying the food and each other’s company. Miguel is internally happy to see you enjoy the dish once again, as he notices your looks of delight with each bite. The more you eat and relax, the more you start thinking maybe you ought to stop for today and continue tomorrow. 

Miguel cleans his mouth gently and finally breaks the silence as you take a drink from your glass. 

“Would you like more?” he asks and you immediately shake your head. 

“Thank you but no, my hunger has been satisfied. And so has my thirst,” you joke as you motion to your glass, already halfway empty. “Thank you. This is amazing, truly.”

Miguel nods and takes a drink from his own glass, with a soft smile on his face. He’s glad his dinner plan lined up perfectly with today so you could have a good dinner after a long day of redecorating. He places the glass down, suddenly remembering the multiple tabs on your laptop with storage unit searches and your old couch that’s currently partially covered, leading Miguel to piece together that you’re storing it. He thinks of his own furniture, or rather furniture that belonged to Gabriel and his mom, which is all stored away in the next two floors.

“I’m happy that you enjoyed it,” Miguel says nodding to you. “It’s a good thing I planned it for today. A good homemade meal is always great after a long day like yours.”

You grin and nod. “Yes, it is. Except dinner wasn’t only ‘good.’ It was amazing.”

Miguel chuckles quietly and leans back on his chair, making his towering height over you even while sitting, more apparent. “Thank you. I’m really glad you think so,” he answers, looking down at you. His eyes very briefly pass over the paint on your cheek again before his gaze meets yours, still thinking about the furniture and the searches on your laptop. “So, you got a new couch.”

“I did… I think it’s time,” you answer quietly with a small smile, turning your gaze to your glass. You hold it in your hand, twisting it carefully as thoughts of your apartment return. You look up at him again. “I’ve had the same couch - since Peter and I moved in,” you add softly. 

Miguel nods, silently realizing how long you’ve had the couch then. He knows it’s been four years now since Peter’s death since you mentioned it the day of, on top of the years you’ve had it since you bought it. That means the couch has been in your possession for over four years. Yet, it looks like you’re still going to store it anyway. As if reading his thoughts, you tell him about it. 

“Peter and I bought it when we first moved in together. A lot of the furniture was bought then, actually. We were fresh out of college and kind of broke,” you say and laugh quietly. “But we really wanted to move in together and we planned financially for months until we found that apartment. It was perfect for us to start out.” You shake your head slightly, recalling those days. “Anyway, we furnished the place and it’s been the same since. I refused to change it after his death… I just couldn’t,” you whisper, looking back at your glass. 

Miguel closes his hand into a fist, fighting the urge to reach out and comfort you physically. The comment about your apartment being the perfect place to start out for you and Peter makes him remember something. He’s taken back to the first day he showed up at your apartment to check on you. As he was fixing a loose cabinet, he wondered why you lived there when it looked like you had a bad landlord. He remembers thinking you deserve to live somewhere nicer, which is why he asked if you were struggling with money when you mentioned the rent is good. 

He wondered to himself if that was the case as it is for many spider members who find it difficult to keep an everyday job with the duties of a superhero, which is why there’s a program within the Spider Society to help those members out. He instantly regretted asking though, when he saw the way you froze in place after that; your eyes teared up as you glanced at the photo of Peter and you had this faraway look on your face until you said that it didn’t matter as you were out a lot anyway. That was his cue to drop the subject. He knew from that point on that the apartment was important to you but he didn’t realize just how much. 

You clear your throat and smile up at him, oblivious to Miguel’s thoughts and his clenched fist. 

“But - after spending some days away, I went back and it just hit me that I need a change, you know? It’s lovely and it’s served its time but it doesn’t represent me fully anymore, my apartment, I mean. So, I decided to redecorate and that includes a new couch but…” you trail off, thinking about your old couch. It’s not in the best condition anymore but you still can’t find it in yourself to throw it out like nothing. “I don’t want to throw out my old one. Peter and I spent a lot of our evenings there and - I don’t know. I know it’s stupid-” you start but Miguel interrupts you. 

“It’s not stupid,” he says in a serious but reassuring tone as he turns his body more to you, leading to your legs brushing each other’s now. “It’s perfectly normal. I have stored furniture, too,” Miguel shares, wanting to comfort you at least this way. You look up at him then, surprised but at the same time comforted by his words, so he decides to add more. “Gabriel used to live here. The other room was actually his. We lived together for a while until he decided to get his own space. He did a lot of repairs on tech pieces and didn’t want to clutter here,” Miguel says looking around before he looks back at you. “So, he bought the next floor and moved out. After some things happened - my mom also moved to this building. She bought the next floor when it became available, wanting to live closer to us. They didn’t live in their own apartments for long though,” Miguel pauses, thinking about how his mom passed away a year later after she moved in. Gabriel followed suit a little while after her. “I inherited their possessions and - their apartments are still like they left them, for the most part,” Miguel whispers. “I know it’s not easy to let go of items.” 

He can’t help but think about Gabriella and his wife. If he could’ve kept their belongings, he would’ve. The only thing he has left is Gabriella’s acoustic guitar that he brought to Nueva York a few days before their universe collapsed. He was going to tune it for Gabi but he never got to it. Now, it’s the only physical item he has left of her, so he keeps it safe downstairs in one of the bedrooms, only retrieving it when necessary like on Dia de los Muertos to offer it to Gabi. 

You nod softly, feeling comforted by his words and also touched that he has shared yet something else with you. You lay your hands on your lap. “Thank you, that really - that really makes me feel better,” you reply quietly, giving him a relieved smile. “I appreciate it.” 

Miguel nods, at last relaxing his fist as he sees your smile. “Always,” he answers quietly before he remembers the searches on your laptop again. His eyebrows furrow a bit. “I didn’t mean to intrude but I saw the searches on your laptop when you offered me something to drink. You’re putting it in a storage unit?” 

You nod. “Yes.” You sigh deeply, remembering your search. Your sigh sounds tired to Miguel. He’s been unable to stop thinking about it and he realizes now it’s because he’s been worrying about your belongings. “I’ve been looking for storage units but they all have mixed reviews. I’m going to visit each place and see which one is better this upcoming week to compare.”

Miguel nods. “Yeah, that sounds like the best idea to avoid any damage to your belongings.” 

You nod before you take another drink of agua de jamaica. 

Miguel looks down at his own glass, thinking. “You know…” he starts, making you turn to him slightly. He looks at the remnants of his drink. The ice has melted quite a lot, diluting the agua de jamaica into a light maroon color now. “No one goes downstairs but me. I clean both floors twice a month to make sure they remain clean. If you want…” he says and turns to you. “If you want, you can store your furniture there. It’d be safer.”

You start shaking your head as soon as he’s done talking. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you but I can’t possibly accept that,” you decline politely.

Miguel’s eyebrows furrow slightly. “You’d have access to it at all times. You don’t have to let me know if you decide to come in and check on it. It’ll be safe here, probably more so than in most storage units,” he says softly. “I wouldn’t mind.”

You shake your head. “That’s too much, Miguel. It’ll be cluttering your space. Thank you but no. I appreciate the thought, though.”

Miguel shrugs, still looking down at you. “No one lives there. I hardly go down there except to clean. It won’t be an inconvenience to anyone. Seriously,” Miguel says. “Just think about it. All the furniture downstairs has been stored for years and it’s intact. I’d hate for something to happen to your belongings,” he says softly, genuinely concerned when he can tell how much the couch alone means to you. 

You sigh softly, thinking about it and Miguel wonders why you’re being so stubborn about this. It’s a simple offer. 

“Are you worried something is going to happen to them here?” he asks you. 

“No, of course not. I’m pretty sure they’d probably be safer here than in most storage units but -” you pause. “I don’t know.”

Miguel shakes his head in amusement. “I won’t let anything happen to your furniture and you can come in any time you want. I’ll show you how to access the floor and everything. Really, it’s not an inconvenience, Y/N.”

You sigh again thinking for a few seconds until you nod slowly. “Are you sure, though?” you ask, making Miguel tilt his head to the side with a soft grin. 

“I’m sure. C’mon, I’ll show you the space so you can see it’s clean,” he says standing up. “I’ll clear this up later, don’t worry about it,” he says when he notices you pick up your plate, taking it from your hand gently and putting it back on the counter. 

He motions for you to follow him, walking the opposite way of the living room. You follow him, thinking about how you haven’t seen the entrance to his penthouse, or a laundry room for that matter now that you think about it. Miguel comes close to the wall and he opens a door that you hadn’t even noticed before with ease. He turns around to let you in first. “Sleek doors,” he says, noticing your confusion. “They’re meant to blend in with the walls to give the space a sleeker look.” 

You nod and thank him as you step into a hallway that leads to another room. You spot three doors in the hallway, actually noticing them this time even though they’re sleek doors, too. 

“Laundry room,” Miguel says, motioning to the first door on the right. “A bathroom for guests,” he says, pointing to the second door. “And another office,” he says for the single door on the left. You follow him down the hallway, stepping out into another living room, smaller than the other one but still larger than your own apartment. “A living room for guests, while the other one is for family and friends,” Miguel explains. 

“It’s lovely,” you reply genuinely because even though this is supposed to be smaller and perhaps less personal, it’s still a very beautiful living room that leads to a grand entrance. You keep following Miguel as he leads you out of his penthouse, stepping out into his private entry before you enter an elevator and reach the next floor. 

The two of you step out of the elevator with Miguel continuing to lead the way to the apartment’s front door. He reaches out and presses his finger to a screen on the wall, which scans his entire hand before the door unlocks. He opens it and lets you in first. You slowly walk down a hallway that opens up to the entire apartment, which is impressive and luxurious. You see furniture, or rather the shapes of it, as everything is covered just like Miguel said. Blinds cover the windows completely, keeping the sunlight out. Everything looks organized and clean, even the picture frames on the wall, which your eyes very briefly scan, noticing Miguel is in some of them with Gabriel. You look away out of respect and focus on the apartment itself. 

Miguel stands behind you, giving you time to look around before he does the same. His eyes land on the photos on the wall. He thought about taking them down but never got to it and he eventually thought about how Gabriel wouldn’t like it either, especially when Miguel still has the apartment in his possession. So, he just left them up. You turn around to face him and nod. 

“The blinds keep the sunlight out and the temperature is right to avoid any damage. Everything has a protective sheet, as you can see,” Miguel says, looking away from the photos. “No one else comes here except for me.”

You nod again. This is much better than any of the photos you saw from actual storage units, of course. You look around again ready to ask about the payment, noticing that Miguel is looking at another photo. 

“What do you think?” he asks gently. “I think it’s better than a storage unit and you don’t have to worry about paying,” he says, giving you a glance. “I know you were just about to ask.” 

You smile and laugh.”You can read minds, too?”

“I saw it on your face,” Miguel answers with a shrug, smiling softly before he turns his attention back to the photo. It’s of Gabriel and him. In fact, a majority of the photos in the apartment are of them. A few have their mother, too, though there’s no sign of the father.  

You stand a few feet away from Miguel in silence, not wanting to intrude. He seems lost in thought with his unwavering gaze on the photo, and how could he not when Gabriel has been on his mind all week. Miguel’s loved ones are always present in his mind but that’s especially true after what happened a week ago. 

“He was better than me with the decoration,” Miguel mutters, still looking at the photo. “He and my mom got on to me about it. They were the ones that decorated the penthouse after I went a few months without doing anything to it. Gabriel on the other hand… He had all these photos hung up three days after moving in.”

You nod, though Miguel isn’t facing you. You look at the photo from where you are, noticing that the O’Hara brothers look to be in their teens and even then, Miguel towered over Gabriel.

Miguel shakes his head softly. He feels like a lot has changed since the last time he was here and it wasn’t that long ago. Now, he’s here again with you, and that makes you the first person that’s visited this apartment in years besides himself. If Gabriel is really out there, with the rest of his family, he wonders what they think of this fact and of you. He suddenly remembers his dream and how they kept telling him you were calling him. He recalls the way they seemed delighted about it, and he takes that as a sign that if they’re out there - or here, who knows - they must be happy about this, too. 

Miguel sighs softly and turns around to face you at last with a gentle smile. “I’m sorry, I was thinking about - my family,” he says, wondering when he’ll tell you about his dream because it’s no longer about whether or not he will. Not anymore. 

“Don’t apologize. I understand,” you answer, smiling. 

“You know - they would’ve really liked you,” he quietly says, which catches you by surprise.

“I - Thank you. I wish I could’ve met them,” you reply, and he nods, wishing, too.

“Me, too,” he answers in a hushed tone. He clears his throat softly. “So… What do you think?” he says motioning to the apartment. 

“Yes,” you say, nodding, feeling a bit embarrassed to accept his offer. “If it’s not too much… I’d really appreciate it.” 

Miguel nods. “It’s not an inconvenience. Believe me. Do you want to bring it right now? I can help you, if you want,” he offers, even though he knows you might want to do it on your own. 

“You’re already doing me a big favor… I don’t want to bother you with one more thing.” 

“You wouldn’t be bothering me, Y/N. It’s not an inconvenience. Please…”

Please let me help you, Miguel wants to say but the words don’t come out, so instead he holds your gaze and hopes you can see it in his eyes; that he wishes to help you, if only you let him. 

You nod slowly, eyes softening at the sight. “Alright… Thank you. I guess I could use some help, since I’m moving it across the multiverse.” 

Miguel nods, amused but glad that you’ve accepted his help. “I’ve never transported furniture through the multiverse, so this will be a first for the two of us.”

You laugh, even though you feel like you’re overstepping by bringing your couch here but in the end, Miguel and you successfully move your couch from your universe to his. As soon as you step back into Nueva York, Miguel carries it on his own like it weighs nothing. He places it near a wall once you tell him he can put it anywhere after he asks if you have a preference. He retrieves a protective sheet before turning around to face you.  

“Thank you so much,” you say genuinely, feeling bittersweet to see your couch in another space. You smile fondly at it, forgetting for a second that Miguel is in the room with you, and of course, he notices the look on your face. 

“I’ll wait outside,” he says quietly but you shake your head. 

“No, it’s okay. It’s - It’s just a couch,” you say softly but you know it’s not true. It was once the couch that completed an old vision for your apartment. One that included Peter. It was the couch you spent your evenings on, reading your books before he asked you to dance with him to his favorite songs. It was also the couch on which you sat with Peter’s head on your lap as your fingers played with his hair after a long day from work to ease his stress. 

Miguel walks to you and offers the protective sheet, knowing you must do it. He walks around you and stands a few feet away to give you space. You walk over to your couch, letting the protective sheet unfold. You don’t give your couch a “goodbye” but rather a silent “bye” as you know it’s not the last time you’ll see it. You smile fondly at it before you drape the protective sheet over it, covering it fully. You step back, letting your eyes trace the familiar outline of it and sigh. It’s time. One more step forward. You feel a tear roll down your face and wipe it away discreetly, thinking about how Peter would be proud of you for taking this step. You smile at the thought of him, sweet Peter. You nod softly and turn around to face Miguel, still smiling.  

Even from afar, he can see the trace of a tear on your cheek, softening his expression. He’s relieved you’re not crying because he doesn’t think he’d be able to handle seeing you in such a vulnerable state. The thought alone… devastates him. 

Yet, you smile at him and nod. “Thank you,” you say softly, almost a whisper. “I really appreciate it.”

Miguel nods back. “Always,” he replies in the same tone, smiling softly. 

The two of you head out of the apartment shortly after, stopping outside the front door so Miguel can add your fingerprint to the system. The process takes only a couple of seconds before you head back to his penthouse where Miguel offers you a coffee as a way to comfort you. You accept, still thinking about your couch while Miguel prepares a special kind of coffee. Café de olla. The two of you sit side by side once it’s ready, drinking it slowly and enjoying the rich scent and flavor. You smile up at him. 

“Thank you for the great coffee. And for dinner, on top of letting me store my couch here,” you say, just thanking him over and over again, making Miguel chuckle quietly. 

He looks down at you, remembering the paint on your face. He gets up without saying anything and retrieves a towel to run under warm water before he returns to you. You watch him with curiosity, wondering what he’s doing. He takes a seat and turns to you. 

“I meant to tell you earlier,” he says, holding the towel. “You have some - paint here,” he says as he slowly lifts the towel to your face, as if unsure of what he's about to do but he ends up going for it. He gently cleans the paint off your face and you chuckle quietly. 

“All this time and you didn’t tell me?” you ask, feigning disbelief. 

Miguel withdraws the towel once the paint is gone. “It wasn’t that noticeable, don’t worry.”

You shake your head at him, smiling. “I don’t believe that but I’ll let it slide because of this amazing coffee.”

Miguel puts the towel down on the counter, amused. He looks at the time and realizes how much later it is. It seems that each time the two of you are together, time flies by. He takes a sip of the coffee, thinking. 

“Are you still going to work on your apartment or are you calling it a day?” he asks, genuinely wanting to know if you’re going to keep working. 

You shrug. “I feel kind of tired - but I think I may work on less strenuous things.”

“Like what?” Miguel asks curiously. 

“I have some new art to hang up and I’m going to choose new photos.”

Miguel nods, making him look around his own place. It’s been the same for years. He’s about to tell you that when Lyla appears. 

“Hello, you two! Smile!” she says, catching the two of you by surprise. 

You look over at Lyla as she displays a photo of you and Miguel, just taken. 

“Lyla,” Miguel says. 

“What? I’m just taking a picture to add to my file.”

That makes you and Miguel raise your eyebrows. 

“File?” you ask. 

“Oh - Uh, did I say file? I’m so tired from work I misspoke,” Lyla says shrugging and laughing nervously. 

“You said file,” Miguel says, narrowing his eyes as he has no knowledge of this file. 

“Okay, so I may have some photos of you guys and like - of the rest of the members.”

“What kind of photos?” Miguel asks.

“Normal photos, Miguel. I’m not a creep.”

“May we see them?” you ask. 

Lyla crosses her arms over her chest, thinking. “Fine, since you asked so nicely and you’re one of my top five favorite spider members. I’ll do a slideshow for you,” Lyla says with a grin before she does exactly that. 

The two of you watch as Lyla starts displaying different photos specifically of you and Miguel with Lyla making appearances sometimes. Some appear to have been taken on rooftops in other universes from when you and Miguel go off to the tallest buildings. Other photos show the two of you talking before meetings with your coffee cups making appearances, too. There’s one from Christmas Eve with the two of you leaning over the windows watching the holographic Christmas light show and another one of Miguel showing you how to design an ornament. The last photos of the slideshow are from the last few days at the infirmary room, which includes a picture of the moment Miguel made a face after he ate the horrible carrot. It makes Lyla giggle but she quickly shuts up when she sees Miguel glaring at her for a few seconds. He notices you covering your mouth as if stifling a laugh. He shakes his head in both amusement and disbelief.

“I can’t believe I ate that,” he says. “You didn’t believe me when I said it was going to be bad.”

“In my defense, I thought it’d be better since it’s Nueva York.”

Miguel scoffs playfully. “Yeah, well… It’s no wonder why the no outside food rule is disregarded, to be honest.”

You chuckle before the two of you return your attention to the slideshow. There’s a photo of the two of you watching one of the movies from last Saturday. Another one of the two of you sleeping which makes you and Miguel raise your eyebrows at Lyla. She shrugs. 

“Accidental photo, my bad. At least I got good angles of you.”

Miguel rolls his eyes remembering how she called him a creep for watching you sleep but here she was, with a photo of the two of you sleeping. 

Then, there are a few photos of when your friends showed up. The rest are from the two days you spent here, like you cooking and Miguel sleeping in the living room. At last, the final one is the one Lyla took just moments ago, though there are a few more that Lyla doesn’t display.

You nod slowly and turn to Miguel, who meets your eyes. You think about it for a few seconds, gaining the courage to ask him. 

“May I have a copy of some of these?” Miguel raises an eyebrow and you quickly explain yourself. “Not the ones of you sleeping or us sleeping but you know - like the one from Christmas Eve or when everyone showed up? I’d love to add a few to my wall, if you don’t  mind.”

Miguel nods, amused. “Yes, of course. Just tell Lyla which ones you want and I’ll get them for you. Let me put this stuff away while you tell her,” he says, motioning to the toppings from dinner. 

You quickly tell Lyla which ones, which leads Miguel to go to his office. He comes back a minute later with a flash drive. He hands it to you. “They’re all there,” he says and you thank him as the two of you return to your seats to finish drinking your coffee. 

“Wait… Are you guys drinking coffee? Miguel, you should probably not drink that considering you’ve been struggling to sleep the last two - three nights,” Lyla says, raising an eyebrow. 

You turn to face him, raising an eyebrow of your own. “You’ve been struggling to sleep?” you ask softly, your tone laced with worry. 

Miguel wants to glare at Lyla, who shrugs but he finds himself unable to as he meets your gaze. “It’s alright. Sometimes it happens,” he says. 

“It wasn’t happening lately until the last three nights,” Lyla adds, gaining herself Miguel’s gaze.

“Lyla,” Miguel warns her gently but with a hint of authority.

“I’m just saying - I don’t think Y/N would mind - if you just ask her,” Lyla says nonchalantly, somehow knowing the current solution to his sleep problems.

“Ask me what?” you ask Miguel curiously. 

“It’s nothing, Y/N. Lyla appears to have a bug, probably from the system failure from last weekend,” he answers but you’re not convinced. 

“If I can help you somehow… Please let me know,” you say but Miguel shakes his head.

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing. I just - It happens sometimes,” Miguel says, trying to convince you it’s nothing so the conversation can be dropped. He’s not about to tell you the truth. He can’t. It’s too much. 

“Miguel - it’s really not that big of a deal. Y/N probably wouldn’t min-” Lyla starts. 

“Lyla, deactivate,” Miguel says evenly, making Lyla disappear instantly. 

You sit there, holding your cup of coffee staring at nothing now. You turn slightly to Miguel, giving him a small but reassuring smile. You can tell he really doesn’t want to talk about it, so you bring the cup of coffee to your lips and drink quietly. Miguel sighs next to you, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I’m sorry you had to see - and hear me - like that,” Miguel says quietly. 

“It’s alright. Don’t worry about it,” you answer, putting your cup down on the counter but still holding it. “Lyla can really push buttons, sometimes.”

“More than sometimes,” Miguel grumbles but now he feels horrible for the way he reacted in front of you. It’s nothing compared to the ways he’s reacted in the past, he knows that but it bothers him that you’ve seen a different side of him now, or at least a glimpse. “I can’t talk about it.”

You nod slowly. “I understand. You don’t have to,” you answer without judgment, though you wish he’d tell you about it, especially if you can help him somehow. 

Neither of you say anything for a minute or two. You continue to drink your coffee silently, trying to give Miguel some time to come back from this moment. Meanwhile, he’s internally fighting with himself. He’s embarrassed to tell you but now there’s also the need to explain it anyway, so you understand why he reacted the way he did towards Lyla. He sighs silently and runs a hand through his hair, wishing Lyla hadn’t said anything. At last, he picks up his own cup of coffee and drinks before he sighs again. He is trying, isn’t he? He said he will. 

“I’ve avoided sleep since Gabriella’s…” Miguel starts, his voice almost a whisper. 

You look up at him and start shaking your head slightly, wanting to tell him that he doesn’t have to explain anything; that he doesn’t have to give any explanations to anyone, not even you but Miguel shakes his head gently, knowing what you want to say. “I should… You said talking about it helps, right?” he asks softly. “On Christmas Eve, you said it helps to talk about it.”

You pause, remembering you said that many months ago while sitting on the same chair. You nod slowly but say nothing. Miguel nods back, meeting your eyes. 

“I’ve avoided sleep since then because of - nightmares,” he continues. “It was easier to not sleep. To keep working. I’ve only been sleeping when my body is extremely exhausted. I take naps,” he reveals, breaking your heart with each word that leaves his lips because that means that he truly doesn’t sleep that much. Then there’s the nightmares part and you can only imagine what they involve if they started after what happened with Gabriella’s universe. You feel your hand itch to reach over and hold his. You want to comfort him for his lack of sleep, for the nightmares, for his vulnerability right now, and for the fact that it seems that he’s trying to sleep these days but hasn’t been able to. You feel incredibly sad as his revelation confirms your suspicions that this past week has been the first time Miguel has slept well in a long time, and it breaks you even more to know it was because of his injuries and not a good reason. You yearn to reach out and comfort him but you hold back, resting your hand on your thigh instead and keeping it there.

“I’ve been living like this since then and - I’ve tried to sleep this week. To recover. It was working but not anymore, even when I want to,” Miguel says so quietly, still holding your gaze. 

You nod, wishing you could do something even if it’s just offering advice but you’ve never been in his shoes. You lost Peter but you didn’t have nightmares about it. You dreamt of him often after his death but they were always pleasant dreams, which have decreased over the years. 

Miguel looks away before he continues. “Something has been helping me recently.”

You clear your throat softly. “What is it? We can get it so you can rest properly, Miguel,” you offer, noticing Miguel’s fist clenched softly. 

“I don’t know how to say this.”

You sit still, not sure if you should encourage him or just remain quiet and give him time to speak. You want to respect his boundaries. You want to give him space. Yet, you also want him to sleep well, especially now that he’s admitted that he’s trying and no longer avoiding sleeping. It makes you wonder again if last weekend’s event has impacted him more than you thought. 

“Your breathing,” Miguel mutters at last, almost making you miss it. You keep still, trying not to show your surprise once his words register. “The sound of your breathing when you sleep - and your scent. It’s been helping me sleep,” Miguel quietly admits at last with a tone that lets you know he’s ashamed of it. 

You sit there for about a second or two, not thinking about it for too long because you don’t want your silence to be mistaken as a negative reaction, so you smile and look at him, searching his face. There’s a slight tint to his cheeks and he’s avoiding your gaze. 

“Well, then… I’m sure with the gizmo Lyla can record my breathing when I sleep, right?” you ask gently. “Tonight, we can do a live feed and record it in the process,” you offer, making Miguel turn his head to you in surprise. Here you are, offering to have your sleep be recorded so he can use it and sleep himself. 

“Y/N… No, that’s too much. I’m just trying to explain this mess Lyla made,” he says quietly. 

“It’s not too much, Miguel. If it’s going to help you sleep, it’s not. I don’t mind,” you answer and give him a reassuring smile. “And my scent,” you pause, thinking. “Do you think a sweatshirt would help? I wear one to sleep all the time because I get cold during the night. I can give you one each week so it’s fresh. We can rotate,” you offer, thinking about it and nodding to yourself as this seems the best course of action. “I’ll bring you the one I’ve been using the last couple of nights.”

Miguel shakes his head. “I don’t want you to feel-”

“I don’t,” you counter. “I want to help. I want you to sleep well, and if this helps, let’s do it. I don’t mind. If it works, you’ll let me know by accepting the new sweatshirt each week. No words need to be exchanged. If it stops working, you’ll let me know by declining the sweatshirt. We’ll find another method then, okay?” you ask softly. 

Seeing the tender look on your face and hearing your reassuring words, Miguel nods slowly. “Thank you,” he hesitantly answers, feeling embarrassed. 

You smile at him kindly. “Always.”

He gives you a soft, almost shy smile and you know this is too much for the founder and commander of the Spider Society, so you try to ease the situation for him to make him feel comfortable again. 

“This coffee is really good,” you say as your attempt to lighten up the mood. You want to bring back the carefree Miguel from earlier. 

Miguel hums. “It’s even better with a piece of pan dulce,” he says looking at his own coffee. “Gabriel and I used to make this kind of coffee on Saturdays when we had more time,” he shares. Sometimes they took turns making it and they’d always bring a cup to each other wherever they were in the penthouse. Even when Gabriel moved to his own floor, the tradition carried on. Miguel can’t help himself from thinking that Gabriel is probably happy he’s made some again, which happens to be on a Saturday. He can almost hear him telling him to make it a thing again, even if Gabriel isn’t here anymore. He looks over at you suddenly, his embarrassment subsiding now thanks to your change of conversation, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Miguel. He’s noticed the way you always try to make hard situations for him better and he appreciates it. So much. It encourages him even more to embrace this new journey. “If you’re not too busy next Saturday, I could make more and buy pan dulce.”

You nod slowly, smiling. “That sounds great.” You pause, thinking. “And since you cooked today, I can cook something then. I promise my living room will look presentable again.”

Miguel hides it well but he’s surprised at the subtle invitation for dinner. He nods slowly and chuckles. “Very well. And I’m sure it will.” 

You nod and smile before you look at the time, wondering where the time has gone, sharing Miguel’s feeling from earlier. Time flies when you’re in each other’s presence. You finish your coffee and motion to the kitchen as it still needs to be cleaned.

“Do you want help picking up your kitchen?” you ask but Miguel quickly shakes his head. 

“I can take care of it but thank you though,” he responds softly. 

“Well, I should probably head home now. It’s getting pretty late and you still need rest. Your wounds doing good?” you ask as you get up at last.

“Yes. The smaller ones are closed up. It’s just the trident wound now,” Miguel answers standing up, too, as his hand brushes past the hem of his shirt since he’s wearing normal clothes today. He wants to show you the progress but he’s not sure about randomly pulling up his shirt to show you. He ends up doing it anyway, deciding that you’ve seen him in far less appropriate ways since he’s certain that you unfortunately caught glimpses of certain parts of his body when you helped him get dressed. The two of you tried your best but only so much could be covered at some points, which makes Miguel’s face feel suddenly hot but he ignores it as he shows you. 

Your eyes fall on his tan and bare skin. There’s hardly any sign of injuries, except for the trident wound, which is still in the process of healing. You nod, satisfied that he’s almost fully recovered before looking up at him, not wanting to stare for too long at his well defined body. 

“I’m happy to see that you’re recovering well. I’m sure the trident wound will heal completely in a few days.” 

“I think so, too,” Miguel says, letting go of his shirt. “I also want to thank you for helping me with my injuries. I know it was probably - Some people don’t do well seeing injuries like that. Yet, I still asked you even with a medical team available,” he says with a sigh. “It really meant a lot to me as you know that I can’t… You know,” he says softly, referring to his boundary regarding physical touch. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

You shake your head. “I wanted to help you, Miguel. I wasn’t ‘putting up’ with you. My only worry was I wasn’t going to do it properly and I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

Miguel chuckles quietly. “I felt no pain with you and I’m certain my less serious injuries are fully healed because of you. So, thank you, again, for everything, Y/N.”

And when he emphasizes “everything” once again, Miguel now includes his sleeping situation and the fact that you’ve unselfishly offered to help him again. 

You smile brightly at him. “Always… So, let me get you the sweatshirt,” you say as you start clicking on your gizmo. 

“I’ll go with you, if that’s okay. That way you can stay home already and not make multiple trips. It’s the least I can do,” Miguel says quietly and you nod slowly. 

“Just ignore the mess,” you chuckle and Miguel raises an eyebrow, playfully. 

“Even your mess is organized,” he comments, which makes you laugh as you pick up the flash drive from earlier, making sure to hold on to it. 

You head to the living room with Miguel behind, remembering that the multidimensional portals make nearby objects float so you want to avoid the kitchen. You open the portal and motion to Miguel to follow you. You step into your living room and quickly go to turn on a light since you forgot to leave one on before you left. 

You place the flash drive next to your laptop, telling Miguel to give you a second before entering your bedroom to retrieve the sweatshirt. Miguel looks around your apartment while he waits, feeling embarrassed that he’s actually doing this. He tries to let it go and focuses on the current state of your living room instead, noticing the new bookcase you have yet to put together and a few other boxes he didn’t notice earlier. He thinks of something just as you step out of your bedroom holding a sweatshirt with a smile. 

“Here we go. Next Saturday, we exchange,” you say, still smiling as he hesitantly accepts it. 

Miguel holds it gently, feeling the softness of the fabric. He nods while looking down at you. “Thank you. Next Saturday then…” he says and you nod. 

“Next Saturday after dinner.”

“Alright, sounds good,” Miguel quietly responds. “I’ll go ahead and head out. You must be tired from working on your apartment all day. Rest well.”

“You, too. I’ll tell Lyla about-” you start. 

“Don’t worry, I got it under cover,” Lyla says, appearing suddenly, surprising you because she’s supposed to be deactivated. A thought Miguel voices out loud. “I have my ways of coming back,” she replies with a shrug. 

You shake your head in amusement. “Alright. Well, it seems like Lyla knows what to do. Good night, Miguel,” you say softly. 

“Good night, Y/N,” Miguel answers. He looks at Lyla and gives her a warning look. “Behave Lyla.”

“I always do,” she responds, which earns her a scoff. 

Miguel gives you a soft smile and a nod as he’s about to enter the portal to head home but he stops. Still holding your sweatshirt, he turns sideways.

“Before I head home… Would you like some help?” 

You slightly raise an eyebrow. “Help?”

Miguel nods and motions to your living room. “You know - With your apartment.”

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, thinking. You spent the majority of your mourning journey on your own and thought it’d end the same way. You had every intention of doing this on your own, too. You thought you needed to. And yet, as you look at Miguel, you realize that just because you started this transition in your life alone, doesn’t mean you must end it the same way. 

You smile. “How do you feel about putting a bookcase together?”

Miguel looks over at the bookcase’s box before he returns his gaze to you, smiling softly. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

You chuckle and you’re about to tell him you were joking about the bookcase and that you’d appreciate help hanging up new wall decorations but before you can speak, Miguel beats you to it. “I can drop by tomorrow. Just let me know what time would be best for you,” he says, sincerely. 

You nod slowly. “Midday? Lunch on me,” you say softly and Miguel nods. 

“Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow then… Goodnight,” he says. 

“Goodnight! Thank you, by the way.”

“Always,” Miguel replies. With one last nod and a small smile, he heads out holding your sweatshirt in his hand. 

You stand there and watch the floating objects fall to the ground as the portal closes after him.

Before you jump in the shower, you quickly set the photos from the flash drive to print since you have the supplies. Thirty minutes later you’re placing all the photos you’ll be using in the now dry picture frames. You hang them on your wall and try different variations for a few minutes. You take a step back at last, happy with the last variation. There are now other pictures of Peter, some of which were some of the last photos you took of him like the one where he’s showing off his “Spider-Woman’s #1 Fan” t-shirt. It was one of the last things he bought before he passed away.

The rest of the photos are of your new friends. You spot the one Pav took of the time Hobie, Pav, and you went to get ice cream at Hobie’s universe, which was quite the experience. Then there’s one where everyone went to Gwen’s universe to eat bagels from her favorite bagel place among others that even includes the Morales family. Your gaze shifts to the ones of Miguel and you.

You asked for the pictures from Christmas Eve, a few from the two of you on rooftops, and the one from today before they land on the last one. You didn’t ask for it but it was in the flash drive. You smile as your eyes scan the photo of Miguel making a face after eating the steamed carrot while you stand next to him, watching him. You were surprised to see it in the pile of printed photos when you got out of the shower and wondered if it was a mistake but then you thought about it and realized Miguel wouldn’t make a simple mistake like that. Right? 

And the truth is no, it wasn’t a mistake. Miguel added it because he saw you found it amusing. So now it’s on your wall, next to a picture of Peter and you. You yawn softly and smile before you turn around to look at your apartment. There’s the empty spot from your old couch ready to be filled with the new one and even though you have the urge to clean the area and go ahead and place it, you decide to leave it for tomorrow.

You do your night routine, put your gizmo back on so Lyla can do her thing, and get in bed, falling asleep almost immediately. 

Back in Nueva York, Miguel lays on his bed a little while after cleaning the kitchen. He stares at the ceiling, thinking. Your sweatshirt is on the other side of the bed, over the pillows. A few minutes later, Lyla appears and tells him she’s about to play the live feed from your gizmo. He sighs in disbelief when she disappears, unable to believe this is happening but his thoughts stop when he hears your slow and even breathing. He closes his eyes, feeling the effect almost immediately. He hesitantly reaches for your sweatshirt and pulls it closer, letting your scent surround him. 

It’s only a matter of minutes before Miguel falls asleep to the sound of your live breathing and scent. He falls into a deep slumber, unknowingly seeking to be closer to your sweatshirt in his sleep. He fulfills his quest by pressing the soft fabric to his face. 

_________________

*Translation for italicized Spanish words:* Really love getting to include more Mexican/Latin details ❤️

-Ternura - endearing, tenderness; I've been thinking about this for such a long time because of Miguel lol I can't think of another word in English that has the same feeling "ternura" does. I don't know if it's just me or if other Spanish-speakers can relate

-"Trataré. Te lo juro." - "I will try. I swear."

-Flautas - literally translates to "flute" haha but it's a deep fried tortilla with filling and topped with different toppings.

-Agua de jamaica - Hibiscus tea (I drink this every day lol)

-Agua Fresca - translates to "fresh water"; there are different flavors like horchata water

-Canelita - cinnamon tea

-Mierda - shit

-Burritos de Tinga - translates to "Tinga burritos"; Latin dish made out of meat (pork, chicken) in sauce with onions, chiles chipotle and tomatoes. Can be eaten on tostadas or in burritos (my experience)

-Dia de los Muertos - Day of the Dead

-Café de olla - coffee made in a pot

-Pan Dulce - sweet bread (it's that time of the year, iykyk)

________________

Hi, guys! First, I hope you enjoyed this new update! Second, I want to apologize for updating almost a month later. I'm so sorry! This part took me a while to write and there were some sections I wasn't initially happy with, so I took extra time to work on them. Then, I got sick lol I was hoping to update sooner but that kind of threw off my plans. I was even hoping to do a Halloween special for the story (short drabble) but life happens.

I'm actually thinking about doing a Thanksgiving one now. I know not everyone celebrates but I don't know, it would be kind of cute and just a short drabble connected to the storyline, not an official part if that makes sense. Just something to read on Thanksgiving related to Miguel x reader and the other spider members! ☺️ if you're interested in getting tagged for that (if all goes well and I actually get to write it), please let me know. Or, you can always just look for it on my masterlist, of course!

Also, I wanted to say a huge THANK YOU for all the support part 9 received!!! Like, for real, thank you SO MUCH!! I think it's the part that's had the most support right after I posted it (besides part 1) regarding reblogs, comments, and asks. It meant a lot to me as several days went into that part specifically because of how long it was, so I really appreciate it and I'm just really happy that so many of you enjoyed it. ❤️🥹

I think that's all I have to say! Thank you again for the amazing support and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I hope you're all having a wonderful start to November, which just makes me wonder where did this year went?! I swear it was just February and now we're here lol but anyway, have a great start to November and take care of yourselves!!

P.S. Please check out the amazing fanart that has been created for Nonviolent Communication! It can be found in my masterlist! Thank you to the amazing talented artists for your support, it means so, so much to me!!! ❤️

-Alondra

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Tag list:

@loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp @rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze @yujyujj @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea @moonsua1 @darksidescorner

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara scenarios #spiderman 2099 #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel spiderman #across the spiderver fanfiction #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n

[iiseor]

⋆𐙚 ₊ summer strikes . . . (2)

synopsis: forced by joel to spend the summer in a small town consequent her agreement to get sober—ellie's acceptance towards the situation grows significantly the moment you cross paths . . . masterlist

cw/notes: alcohol/drug topics (kinda heavy, this is ur warning). mental health issues for both reader and ellie, ellie is not Joel's daughter in this AU she just stays with him, implications of family member loss. fluff + hurt/semi comfort(?), Abby appearance who cheered ^_^ , shifting more towards readers pov in comparison to the last fic. . . wc: 3.2k tags: @boobdrug @seraphicsentences @amberputh @gato-chino @sourgummywormsss @shiimer @ellieusedtampon

soft sunlight beams through the lightly draped windows as birds set the morning temper. ellie's quilt draped over her body—half on the bed half slipping onto the floor. The night hadn't been exclusive, thoughts pondered her mind making it harder to fall asleep as the hours went by, a few wolves howling from afar in the moutons here and there, the sound of tommy — or maybe you, walking throughout the hall, and the lingering wonder of what joel was doing in that very moment scattering her thoughts until she dozed off.

as the morning crawled in and thoughts crawled out, tranquility filled ellie's body as if she was a new born child. It was the first time in months, maybe even a year since she had woken up without a hangover headache, spiking a nearly nostalgic like feeling. Rolling off the low mattress, she picks up her phone before sighing intensely.

no service

she rolled her eyes before throwing both her hands and phone over her head as she lied back down, still on the cold hardwood floor with her blanket slightly tucked beneath her. The birds had shuffled back into their nests silently and the wolves were hidden from the warm sunlight, ellie lays down for a few minutes before finally standing up, about to stumble out of her room to get washed up before tommy comes pushing through the door.

she jumps back, caught off guard by his sudden appearance. "Oh hey kid ur awake" he says before looking her up and down slightly, ellie rubbing the back of her head in response. "Just came here to tell you to go get washed up, breakfast is on the table then y/n will show you around the farm and whatever, I gotta head into town so I'll see you later" he added. "got it, thank you sir" she said as he tuned to walk away, before he turned back for a second to add another word, hand still on the door knob "tommy is fine, don't use sir..... it makes me feel old" he laughed and she reciprocated before they went their separate ways.

Ellie washed up, staring at herself hard in the mirror after her shower for what felt like eternity as she tried to convince herself this was good. it's all good, and she'll be okay. before she made her way downstairs to eat another full meal, something she remembered looking forward to again after dinner and during her pre-sleep thoughts.

"Hey els!" You greeted her from the table while she came down the stairs. 'Els'... you already gave her a nickname ? She questioned to herself, trying to hide her blushed face. "Hey.." she breathed out in response, you smiled at her in return while she made her way towards the table. "Help yourself! I already finished eating and so did tommy.. did Tommy tell you the plans for today ?" You spoke, picking ur plate up and walking to the kitchen. "Uhm .. no" Ellie replied placing food onto her plate, amazed at the variety and bright colours of fresh vegetables + fruit.

"Oh I figured, I'll take you out to the lake so we can catch some fish for dinner ! I'll also introduce you to the animals if you'd like" you replied washing up your plate. Ellie's response was slow as she swallowed a big fork filled with fruit salad—"yea, that sounds good" she smiled. "Oh perfect!" You smiled back, "I'll go get ready, take ur time though!" You shouted as you ran up the stairs in excitement.

It had been a few months since you had last had people over, let alone people willing to go fishing with you. Your dad was always there, but it felt odd without your mother there to join. When Tommy had informed you of ellies suspected arrival, you spent nearly an hour planning places around town to take her—fishing being at the top of the list.

About an hour passed as Ellie finished the rest of her breakfast, savoring every bite and heading back upstairs to wash up. You eagerly got dressed in your prettiest sundress and shorts, not necessarily the best fit for fishing—but you were so excited it didn't matter.

"Here!" You said pulling a hat off the rack as Ellie came down the stairs towards the front of the door. "This is Joel's, he left it here the last time we went fishing ... which was like a year ago but we still wash it!" You said placing the hat on her head. Ellie's eyes dragged from yours to your lips as you adjusted the velcro cap, fixing her hair as a gentle smile was plastered across your face. "There, perfect" you added as you turned around to grab a sweater and car keys. "T-thanks.." she choked out, watching you in admiration—your pretty flowy dress and sweet scent making her face become flushed.

She followed you out of the house and into your car parked at the end of the curb. Ellie's eyes were flashed with the bright interior of your small yet beautiful car. Decorated with fake plants, lightly pink yet slightly grey covers, and a lili scented air freshener. "I'll take you to see the animals first!" You said buckling up as ellie did the same, "sound okay?" You questioned noticing her awkward posture. "Oh, Uhm.. yea" she answered, distracted by her thoughts of not Joel and everything else that flooded her thoughts the night before—but you as well.

The drive was short and quiet, the farm was close but you drove to avoid being attacked by mosquitoes. You pulled into the rocky driveway as you noticed a barn door open, to your surprise as everyone was supposed to be off today. "I think one of the workers might've left the barn door open" you told ellie as you looked out of the window trying to catch someone in your view. "I'll go check" you replied, ellie was about to protest that you probably shouldn't go alone but you had already left before her words could come out.

She unbuckled her seat belt, sitting anxiously as you went out of sight and disappeared into the barn for nearly twenty minutes. Once you finally emerged from the darkened doors, ellie was met with the sight of you—and a buff women with her hand wrapped around your waist. Fuck, she thought looking at the image as you two walked towards the car. "It's all good" you said opening ellies door for her to step out.

ellie felt short, small even, the moment she was faced to face with the blonde that stood beside you. "This is Abby! She's one of the workers here during the summer, abby this is ellie! she's staying with me and my father" You informed. "Oh, hi" ellie greeted quietly, avoiding eye contact with Abby. "Yea hi" Abby replied in a dismissive tone, her arm still wrapped around you as she turned to your face. Caressing it, she spoke again. "Well I'll let you two do your thing, I was just heading out anyways"

"Alright!" You replied as her grip turned. bitch ellie thought to herself about abby, as she watched the blonde walk away—you still standing with a smile on your face, oblivious to ellies mind. "Cmon ! The horses are around here!" you grabbed Ellie's hand and dragged her around to the stables. Once inside, you noticed how she cringed at the stench—letting out a giggle as she whipped her nose. "You'll get used to it!" you told as she laughed in response—the first time you'd heard her laugh since she got here. "look over here!" You added dragging her by the arm. The two of you stumbled towards the gate as a big, beautiful white haired horse moved its face in your direction. "hi pretty" you spoke softly as you reached to pet the horse, "this is starlight, my favorite one" you whispered leaning towards ellie "she has sensitive ears so we whisper around her. . . Go ahead, pet her" you smiled.

Ellie hesitated, looking towards your direction for confirmation. Once she saw that gentle smile on your face, she lifted her hand and planted it across from yours. Her fingers sunk softly into the horses hair while the two of you caressed it. "She's beautiful isn't she?" You whispered, "yea.... she is" ellie responded — her body being filled with a sudden sense of tranquility again, before your words broke her trance. "Let me take you to see the chickens" you whispered, dragging her away once again towards the chicken coop. "Hi sweetheart" you spoke squatting down to pet one of the chickens, still holding onto ellies hand as she stood watching. You stood up and walked a bit further towards the coop, picking up a baby chick, standing up and turning towards ellie. "She's a new one!" You told, Ellie starring in amusement. "Name her" you added looking up at her, "w-what?" she replied, her eyes becoming soft in confusion. "Name her! I'm always the one coming up with names ... it would be fun to have someone else with one" you hold the chick out for ellie to take into her hand, "here, hold her" you say, ellie placing her hands in the shape of a basket as the chick jumps from your hands to hers.

She admires it, the soft and ticklish feeling as it moves around her palm. "What do you think she is" you questioned, satisfied with ellies fascination with the chick. "Um..." Ellie let out as she thought hard before answering. "Maybe .... um... maybe lily?" She said hesitantly, thinking back to that lili scented air freshener in your car—was all she could come up with. "Oh! That's so beautiful els!" You replied. There goes that nickname again she thought—trying to hide the butterflies forming in her stomach. Ellie handed you back lili and you placed her on the ground, "there's not much else to see honestly, judging by your reaction to the horses I think we should stay away from the sheep! And the pigs will be even worse..." you teased, Ellie laughing back with a "yea probably". "Well, let's get fishing then!" You added dragging her, yet again, this time to the car.

The drive towards the lake was short as well, just a few feet from your house. Luckily for you two, the water was unoccupied and seemingly calm. You unloaded the fishing rods from the trunk and guided Ellie towards the canoes. Struggling to flip it over, ellie lended you a hand. "Thank you so much ... my mom always did this for me" you smiled at her again, "no problem" she responded. The two of you loaded the fishing rods into the canoe and set off into the lake, leaving behind everything besides your sweater, the bait, and her hat.

"So, first ill show you how to put the bait on the rod" you informed, lifting up a light grey rod and the can of bait. Ellie watched in silence, nodding as you showed her how to do exactly what you said you would. "Got it?" You asked in excitement, making eye contact with Ellie—which she was quick to break once she replied. "Yea, thanks" she said, picking up a rod and doing what you had showed her. You stood up and walked to kneel at the edge of the canoe and waved for ellie to come aswell. Once she does, you positioned your rod and swung it into the lake, "just copy me! It's easier than it seems" you watched her as she obeyed, positing her rod and swinging it the same way you did. She held it in the lake as you did, "wait until you feel a tug, then pull hard!" You directed.

The two of you waited a few minutes before Ellie was shaken by the feeling of hee rod being tugged. You lifted your rod out of the lake and lended her a hand as she struggled to lift her own, tugging at it before your grip helped bring it onto the boat. "Woah!" You raised your voice in excitement, "a trout, good job!" You said removing the hook from its mouth and handing it to ellie. "Here! Hold it up!" You said, walking away towards your sweater you had taken off and pulling out a camera. "Smile!!" You squealled as ellie stood and awkwardly smiled for the camera. "How cute" you chuckled, taking the fish from hee and placing it inside of the small cooler kept on the canoe. Ellie blushed in return, and you noticed this time.

She sat down and rubbed her neck before building the courage to speak "Are those edible? Like ... trout?" Ellie questioned in confusion, she was unaware of the diversity within fish—only eating sardines growing up. You laughed at her confusion as you removed the bait from your rod, "nearly all fish in this lake is edible, trout is similar to salmon.. like we had last night!" You informed before sitting across from her. "Oh.. I see" she replied. "It's good for your first time!" You said, paddling around as ellie admired the view of the slowly setting sun, and you—was it that late already? "We should head back soon, so I can cook it for us!" You said, guess it was late. "Unless your tired of fish already.. then I can cook something else" you suggested, ellie immediately protesting that she was fine with whatever and wouldn't mind eating fish for the rest of her life—now making you laugh. How could she possibly give up the chance at another fresh, filling meal? One cooked by you especially.. she'd be crazy she thought.

"Dad?" You called as you and ellie entered the seemingly empty house. "He's most likely not coming back till morning, so it'll just be us eating" you informed ellie through a sigh—catching her off guard with your change in mood. "We should get washed up" you suggested, taking off your sweater and placing it on the rack, ellie doing the same with the hat she had worn. "Oh, you can keep that haha" you told her, picking the hat back up and handing it to her. "Joel probably won't come back for it anytime soon" you added, walking past her and upstairs to change and shower.

The night fell cold with the sunset and crescent moon appearance. You had showered and changed into some pyjamas before heading downstairs and preparing food. The freshly caught trout with mashed potatoes and lightly grilled asparagus being plated before you called ellie down, who without hesitation came to sit with you at the table. shocked by the beautifully set up food, ellie sat across from you at the table. The sight, almost like a restaurant date—if it wasn't for your unstyled hair and pyjamas. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes before you got up and offered ellie a drink, pouring her a glass of water—you broke the awkward sound. "So..." you dragged on, "how do you like it here so far?" You asked, biting into your food while waiting for a response.

"It's ... nice, calm" ellie responded, the two of you not making eye contact as you spoke. "That's good.... tommy says ur from the city?" you added onto the conversation. "Yeah" she replied again, you slightly scoffed in response—"why would u come out here?" You questioned with a concerned tone. "What?" She replied with confusion. "Not in a bad way ... I just mean, the city seems cool you know!" You added on changing your tone, attempting to hide the previous one. "Oh... I just ... needed to get away i guess" she answered truthfully though trying to conceal details, before you pressed for more. "Away from what?" You questioned deeper, genuinely curious. "Uhm..." ellie hesitated, taking a sip of her water as your eyes were on your plate, about to take another bite. "Just bad influences .... alcohol and that shi-stuff". She answered again, fully revealing with as little detail as she could contain.

Ellies words made you freeze for a minute, caught off guard by her words—you lifted your eyes to her face, already pointed towards her plate. You paused, thinking of what to say, you spoke softer this time. "I'm.. sorry els.... that sucks" you were careful with your words, trying hard to be sensitive. "It's all good, I'm getting better" she smiled, finally making eye contact with you today. You smiled back before taking another bite. Your mind debated what to say next, what was appropriate to say next, before you let the words come out.

"I get it though..." you lowered your tone again, Ellie's eyes became wider as she coughed a bit before replying. "You do?" She questioned, caught in a befuddled state. "Yea ... i mean, kind of ... obviously not personally like, you in a way ... but my mom struggled with alcohol as well, so I can kinda tell where your coming from.." you rambled on, avoiding eye contact as you spoke while ellies eyes were glued onto you. "I sympathize with you ellie" you added on, now meeting her eyes. "I can't understand fully, but I want you to recover, get better you know ... you're cool" you spoke lastly, catching yourself before rambling on even more.

Ellie caught on to why you had implied. Connecting the previous mentions of your mother with the current one, her vision of you softened with commiseration. "Thank you y/n.... and I'm sorry.... about your mom" she spoke more confidently, separate emotions covering up the anxiety she was drowning in only moments before. You flashed her a smile, "of course..." you replied, standing up to take away your now empty plates in order to avoid another fall of awkward silence between you two. "I can wash these, you already cooked" she said taking the plate from your hand as you were about to pick up the sponge. "Thank you" you replied, smiling at her, and then at yourself as you noticed ellies sudden change in comfort around you, so quickly yet so effective. She was more gentle, and less tense .. all after one conversation.

You walked up the stairs and your bedroom, turning on your fan to drown out the sounds of running water from downstairs before flopping down on your bed. You sighed, pushing yourself towards the headboard and crawling under the covers. Shutting your eyes yet not falling asleep, your mind was crowded. now reminiscing about the day with ellie, you were caught off guard by sudden negativity. You shouldn't have told her about your mom, you shouldn't have pushed with questions, you shouldn't have let your tone slip. Thoughts piled upon thoughts drenched your head making it impossible to fall asleep for a while. You were stuck, upset with yourself for dumping something so heavy onto ellie, and even more upset with yourself for almost slipping back into the disgusting attitude you worked so hard to get rid of.

Had she noticed? Does she see you differently now? Did you ruin this all for her so quickly? Did you trigger her by pressing so much? Fuck was all you could think of in response to your own question. You were supposed to be healed... better at all of this... better at making friends and talking to people. It wasn't ellies job to feel sorry for something like this, you shouldn't have brought it up, you lectured yourself. In truth beneath the surface, turmoil was still present for you. Tommy knew it, though you were adamant about being better. You knew everything still ached every once in a while—more than you'd admit, but you fully believed it was under your own guidance and responsibility that all of it would go away. One way, or another. You drowned out your thoughts with muffled tears as the overwhelming feelings fazed your heart. Falling deep into sleep as everything dissapeared from consciousness, you were sound asleep from dusk till dawn for the first time in weeks.

#🫧 sena #ellie x reader #abby tlou #ellie x fem reader #abby x you #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #tlou #abby the last of us #abby x reader #ellie x abby #ellie the last of us #joel and ellie #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #ellabs x reader #ellie williams #ellie tlou #abby anderson x y/n #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson x reader

[irkimatsu]

So llike just had the idea of; Husk fell asleep at the bar and reader finds him and puts a blanket over him. He starts purring and they are overwelmed with the need to pet him so they do which causes more purring and him to sleepily nuzzle their hand. When they pull their hand away the purring slowly dies down so they start petting him again. <3

The fluff train continues! About 1k words of GN!Reader taking care of a tired, overworked Husk. Someone please let this man rest I beg of you.

---

How does he sleep like that? It can’t possibly be comfortable.

You know it’s not his fault, really. It’s a combination of overwork and alcohol that causes Husk to constantly pass out standing up, his head resting on the bar. Surely he’d be in his bed if he had the choice.

You wish you could do something. You’ve tried on multiple occasions to rouse him from his sleep, but he never budges when he’s this far gone. You can’t move him, either; he’s just dead weight like this. Any attempt would only leave him on the floor, which would obviously be even worse. 

Instead, all you can do is keep him company when he’s passed out. You’re sure he doesn’t notice your presence; he’s never brought it up while awake, anyway. Still, it makes you feel better to not leave him alone for the whole night.

Tonight is like so many other nights. While most of the hotel’s residents have long since gone to bed, you’re sitting up at the bar with an unconscious Husk. You’ve always been a bit of a night owl, so it doesn’t bother you to not be in your own bed.

Despite the dire circumstances that led to his falling unconscious again, Husk seems surprisingly peaceful. He at least had time to fold his arms on the bar and rest his chin on them, rather than face-planting onto the bar with his neck bent at a horribly uncomfortable angle. His wings are folded in and relaxed, and his tail is hanging low and gently swishing, the feathers lightly brushing against the floor. His hat fell off when he passed out, so you picked it up, dusted it off, and placed it on the bar for him to retrieve when he woke up.

You rarely see him without his hat, so you often forget what he looks like without it. Hair-like fur is bunched in the middle of his head, sticking out in wild directions. Does he ever brush it? Perhaps he doesn’t feel the need to when it’s always under the hat anyway.

It looks so soft… you wonder what it’d be like to comb your fingers through it.

Husk stirs slightly in his sleep, but he’s not anymore conscious. He only grumbles and shivers before slumping against the bar again, his eyes never opening.

Come to think of it, it’s an awfully cold night tonight, and for reasons you don’t quite understand, the poor man never wears a shirt…

There’s a blanket laying on the lobby’s couch, so you step away just long enough to retrieve it. It’s an off-white fleece, and incredibly soft; of course someone like Charlie wouldn’t cheap out on her guests’ comfort. You bring it back to Husk and drape it over his back. It doesn’t cover him much at first due to his wings, but he reflexively pulls them in until the blanket settles over his shoulders.

You return to your stool and resume your nightly watch over him. Is it just you, or does he look more relaxed now? You could swear his eyebrows are less furrowed, and his mouth isn’t turned down quite so much.

Most tellingly, if you listen closely, you can hear the faintest hint of a purr rumbling from his throat.

It’s not the first time you’ve thought of how handsome he was, and the removal of his hat is only strengthening your opinion. He may be a grouchy old man who’s dealt with too much bullshit in his life to ever let his guard down again, but that only intensifies his care for the other residents, tough as that care may be. You know he means well, and only wants to spare you and the others from screwing up your own lives as badly as he did.

Yet, a softer side does shine through the near-perpetual anger sometimes. A side that’s been learning when you don’t need your mistakes rubbed in your face. When he simply lets you speak or remain silent after a hard day, giving you a soft look and encouragement while realizing it isn’t yet the time for advice… that’s the Husk you want to know more about, and the Husk you currently see sleeping in front of you.

God, the fur on his hair looks so nice… you can’t help yourself anymore. You run your fingers over it, just once, lightly enough to not wake him (as if he can be awoken from this state). It’s even softer than you imagined, feeling just like cat fur instead of human hair. You give his head a few more strokes, thinking about how nice he’d look if he’d brushed it, maybe slicked it back…

You could swear he’s purring more loudly now.

You’ve already started sating your curiosity, so you may as well keep going. Still keeping your touches light, you stroke your way behind his ear, then to his cheek. Your fingers sink into the fluff as you gently scratch the skin underneath.

He leans his head into your hand and nuzzles.

You pull your hand back in shock, not expecting his response. Have you woken him after all?

His frown deepens as he settles his chin back into his arms, and his tail gives a frustrated lash. His eyes still aren’t opening, and his purring goes quiet.

He’s stopped moving for a while, so you take a chance and scratch his cheek again. He responds in the same way, leaning into your hand and purring louder than ever. Since he seems to be enjoying it, you place your other hand on his other cheek and scratch him there, too. After a few scratches, you cup his cheeks in your palms and scratch behind his ears.

He’s purring like crazy now, tilting his head slightly to make sure your fingers are rubbing just the right spots. His tail raises into the air and waves, and his claws flex against the wooden bartop.

“Husk…” you whisper.

He whispers your name back and slightly opens his eyes. You immediately pull your hands back as if his face was suddenly scalding hot.

“Where am I…?” he murmurs groggily before his eyes close again. “My knees fuckin’ hurt…”

“You should go to bed,” you tell him, pointedly ignoring what you’d just been doing to him. “The bar was supposed to close hours ago.”

“Ugh… finally…” His mouth opens wide in a feline yawn, and then he stands up. The blanket starts to slip from his shoulders, but he catches it and wraps it more tightly around him. “This yours?”

“I got it from the couch,” you say. “You can keep it.”

“Good. It’s fuckin’ cold… no wonder everything fuckin’ hurts…” He yawns again as he walks out from behind the bar. “I need a day off… was havin’ a good dream… hate wakin’ up from good dreams…” He doesn’t acknowledge you further as he shuffles off to bed, grousing to himself the entire time.

Perhaps, even while he’s alone, his “dream” will pick up where it left off.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin husk x reader #irk huskposts #irk blubbers about nothing #irk got asked a thing #sashybash

[cultofdixon]

A moment alone with you

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • A moment. Just a moment alone with his girl is all he wants. But everybody—-especially the kids, have much more pressing things in that moment of peace • SFW/NSFW - Nudity / Grinding / Fondling / Hickeys • TW: Scars • Bit of re-written canon

Requested by: Anon

“You excited for Y/N to come home?” Michonne smiles asking Daryl who hasn’t left his spot by the main gates to Alexandria for his other half to return from the medicine run with Siddiq.

“Is it obvious?” Daryl chuckles lightly leaning against the wall. “Yea need somethin’?”

“Actually, I do”

The hours passed as the two finally returned home and Siddiq brought the car right in front of the infirmary so it would be easy load off.

“I need a shower”

“Same, but I gotta do inventory on the new stuff before I can unwind”

“I can help yknow—-“

“Yeah yeah but we’ve been gone for a month. I think a certain archer would like to see his partner” Siddiq smiles noticing her bashful smile to his words. “You can help tomorrow with putting everything away, I can handle counting and putting the numbers down”

“Okay Siddiq, I’ll take that” Y/N smiles exiting the car and grabbing her bag from the trunk, waving him off on her way to her home.

As Y/N enters the home she was quiet and half excepted to be greeted by Daryl. But the next best thing, Dog came trotting over demanding pets that she happily provided soon noticing the sleeping archer on the couch with both Grimes kids laying and sleeping comfortably on his chest.

“Guess he was on uncle duty tonight” Y/N whispers to Dog as she kisses the top of his head.

Quietly, she took her shoes off leaving them by the door before tip toeing over to the three grabbing a blanket out of the basket on the way over. Y/N gently drapes the blanket over the three watching the kids stir slightly. She made sure they were still secure on Daryl and sound asleep. After admiring the sight a bit she leaned over to Daryl, kissing his cheek before leaving to go upstairs and take a much needed shower.

It felt like an hour has passed while showering because of how amazing it felt after being gone a while. But she was in there long enough to not notice when the door opened.

Y/N suddenly flinched when the curtain flung open revealing Daryl. “You’re subtle aren’t you?”

“Yea didn’t wake me”

“You had two sleeping angels on you. Of course I wasn’t gonna wake you…and speaking of angels. Where the fuck did you put them?”

“In the guest bedroom sleepin’.” Daryl’s eyes trailed her naked form taking note of the bruises and small cuts that happen out of random at this point of the apocalypse. “I missed yea”

“If you missed me so much…why don’t you join me instead of letting the water out” Y/N smiles watching the excitement in his eyes as he was about to undress when both heard sobbing.

“Uncle Daryl…”

“It’s Jude.” Y/N smacks his chest getting him a bit wet. “Go make sure she’s okay and stay with her”

“Mm…We ain’t done” Daryl states before going to check on the young Grimes as Y/N moved the curtain back to cover her.

Once she was finished, Y/N went to check on the kids noticing Daryl laying in the bed with them. He can never say no to either of them and she couldn’t help the smile on her face when she approaches them quietly. The archer turns his head toward his woman watching her smile even more to the display as she kisses him goodnight before fixing the blanket over them then going to bed herself.

A couple hours passed and Y/N felt a shift in the bed stirring her awake as she moved onto her back watching Daryl tower over her.

“How’d you manage to slip out?”

“Dog disturbed them both. Making them get off me”

“Hm. Man’s best friend really has your back” She laughs quietly as Daryl didn’t wait another moment to bring his lips firmly against hers.

His partner instantly wrapped her arms around his neck feeling him shift above her bringing his knee in between her legs. While his hand finds itself under her shirt not waiting another second to grope her breast enjoying the satisfied moan that he swallowed as he continued to make out with her. He pulls away from her lips about to ask if it was okay to go further but both’s thoughts were interrupted by knocking.

“Can’t get even a second…” Daryl sighs lifting himself off of Y/N as she reaches to turn the lamp on while he went to answer the door.

Both Judith and RJ, who was more sleepy than his sister, were at the door about to ask Daryl if they could sleep in the bed with him after having a hard time. The other times were nightmares. She then noticed Y/N sit up in the bed fixing her shirt as she was about to ask her when RJ yawns out.

“Can we sleep with Auntie Y/N?” He frowns up at Daryl as Y/N pats the bed when he asked watching both of them instantly run over getting help onto the bed.

“If they get cuddles from yea, so do I” Daryl scoffs playfully as he brings himself back to the bed turning the lamp off before climbing in once Y/N scooted more into the center of the bed letting the kids child all over her. While Daryl brought himself close enough for her to close the small space by moving into him.

“All my babies missed me” Y/N teases a little as she let the kids get comfortable before nudging Daryl to get the blanket over them.

“I’ve missed you more” Daryl whispers only to be smacked in the face by RJ indicating that he missed her more.

The next morning Daryl woke alone and when he got up to get dressed in his usual attire. He noticed his vest was missing but it didn’t take long to know who took them. He went downstairs to check if anyone was still home but was met with no one except Dog who accidentally got left inside. So he obviously wasn’t waiting for Daryl except to be let out.

Dog instantly ran toward the kids once Daryl let him out. He made his way toward the infirmary know he could find Y/N there and hopefully alone.

The archer always manages to sneak up on people and he entered the infirmary without being noticed. Her back was facing him and Daryl took notice of the familiar wings resting on her person.

“You left early” She couldn’t help the smile to emerge on her lips when she felt her other half bring himself directly behind her. He kept his voice low even if the way she pressed up against him confirmed it was only them.

“Had to get the kids back to Michonne.” Y/N smiles setting the last crate of medical supplies they found on the table, feeling his hands find purchase on her hips. “They won’t bother us tonight”

“I don’t think I can wait til tonight” Daryl sighs against her neck as his hot breath caused shivers to crawl down her spine. He slowly brushes her hair out of the way of her neck so that he could place a kiss there, moving from the back of her neck to her shoulder while his other hand moved to her front bringing her more firmly against his person.

She wasn’t objecting, she would argue that she wanted him more given the time apart from one another. Searching for Rick and doing infirmary runs tend to fall on opposite times from when either of them were back home. But recently Daryl has been coming home more often, not because he’s been hitting dead ends…but because a big part of him wanted to remind everyone…who his girl was and that she was only his.

While the archer started to get to work on leaving his mark on her exposed neck, he brought his hand that brought her closer into him…from her stomach to the waist band of her jeans slipping his calloused fingers into her pants and her panties.

But before he even got to her sweet center, Siddiq bursts through making Daryl quickly pull his hand out but still keep close to Y/N as her annoyance started to show.

“Y/N I—-“

“Siddiq. Unless someone is bleeding to death. I don’t want to hear it”

“Uh…Well can it be something around that level?” Siddiq questions as he was completely obvious and or ignoring what the two could be possibly doing for his own concerns.

With a bit of anger brewing in her over the zero time with her partner, Y/N pulled herself away from Daryl seeing the concern look on Siddiq’s face making her calm herself a bit. She pats Daryl’s on the chest giving him an apologetic look telling him he should go so that she could take care of this.

“I’ll be home, whenever you’re done here”

“Give me half an hour…” Y/N pouts to Daryl who couldn’t help himself by kissing the pout off her face before leaving her to attend to Siddiq.

Finally after taking care of a pregnancy scare for Siddiq and his secret lover who Y/N knew was Rosita. She quickly made her way home finding Dog whining at the door to be let in and only knew that Daryl locked him out in hopes he wouldn’t interrupt them in any way. The worse he’d do is bark if he thinks he’s alone for too long.

“You better not block me and my man, Dog. His attention is mine today” Y/N playfully threats as she lets him in watching him immediately go to the couch to lay down. Guess he didn’t want to be in the grass soaking up sun.

Y/N didn’t make it very far when heading upstairs as Daryl heard the front door open knowing it was her, or at least assumed. He met her at the top of the stairs quickly taking her into his arms and pressing his lips firmly against hers. The two ended up against one of the walls completely ignoring the possibility of going straight for the bedroom. They needed the other desperately.

“I—-Need to breathe” Y/N gasps pulling away as he planted his lips to her neck while working on the shirt she was wearing once he got his vest smoothly off her. “Fuck—-Dar, please” She begs, as Daryl knew she wanted more while he finally got the last button on her flannel undone to take it off. Groaning slightly to himself at the tank top that was next.

“Too many layers—“ Daryl groans against her neck pulling away enough to grip the neckline of her tank top.

“No Daryl. Don’t you—-“ then the sound of ripping was made clear as Y/N stopped every movement from her to take in the fact that Daryl was impatient to yknow…bring it over her head. “You owe me a new one”

“Mm. Or next time yea could wear nothin’” Daryl scoffs in a playful manner suddenly lifting her off the ground pinning her more against the wall. Her legs instinctively wrapping themselves around his torso as he held her hips in a bruising grip.

The archer mainly pushed her up so he would be eye level—-or more so mouth level with her breasts. Pressing kisses along her sternum and getting a bit into it with sucking hickeys along the strip making her face flush biting down on the inside of her cheek to contain the excited moans that’d escape her.

Oh but he was going to get those out of her, once he latched his mouth onto her left breast. He felt the strain in his pants when she didn’t hold back on her moans as he tugged gently on her sensitive bud in between his teeth.

“Fuck me. Fuck me, Dixon” Y/N hissed as Daryl pulled his mouth away from her breast setting her down about to work on getting her jeans and panties off next when both froze to a knock on the main door. “For fucks sake—-“

“Nah. I’m done with this bullshit” Daryl groans pulling away from Y/N as he stormed down the stairs quickly approaching the door.

Aaron flinched on the other end when the door swung up showing an angered annoyed Daryl.

“Hey I was—-“

“Is someone dying?”

“No?”

“Did walkers break in?”

“No…”

“Did RJ get his head stuck in the doggy door of Michonne’s place again?”

“Nope”

“Then what’s so fuckin’ important that I can’t have sex with my goddamn girl after not seeing her for a month?”

Wow he’s brutally honest Aaron couldn’t help the embarrassed blush to immediately reach his face when hearing such as he turned around and started to walk away. “I’ll come back…uh…in a few days”

“THANKS” Daryl yells before shutting the door and heading back upstairs not finding Y/N where he left her. But his vest was gone once again…

And her jeans and panties were in the pile of her clothes that he pulled/ripped off of her.

“Hey…”

Daryl quickly looks up from the pile straightening himself noticing his girl standing in the doorway in nothing but his vest.

“You joining me or not, D?” Y/N smirks taking a few steps back into the bedroom watching Daryl bringing himself closer.

“Oh I’m comin’, sunshine”

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

[neonghostlights]

Could I please request Eddie being dorky and coming over while Reader is babysitting? I imagine he tries to scare her like some bad scary movie first lmao

OMG HI MOUSE!! Okay this is adorable and I hope you like it! Thank you for your request 💗

Warnings: just fluff (: a little creepy lol

Wordcount: 1k

Did I Make You Scream?

You tucked Jamie into the plush mattress of your spare bedroom, his favorite blankies surrounding him like a cocoon to help this sleepover go smoother. 

You watched as he drifted off to sleep and you celebrated internally to not risk waking him up. 

Babysitting a six year old was tough. Your sister had a date tonight and that left you as the most trusted person to watch her little angel. 

You loved your nephew, you really did. But it meant that you had to cancel your own plans with a certain man with long brown hair and big brown eyes. 

You had bumped into Eddie at the mechanics after you moved back to Hawkins. You had been gone nearly a decade after highschool, deciding to stick around in the area you went to college at. 

But now you were back, wanting to spend more time with your sister and your nephew. You hadn’t realized that the move would lead you to run into an old classmate from highschool that you had shared just a few classes with and never really talked to. That day chatting at the mechanic shop about your car turned into a date, which turned into five dates and now it wasn’t often that you went a day without talking to your boyfriend. 

You settled on the couch, glancing up the stairs quickly to make sure you did in fact leave the guest room door cracked in case Jamie needed you. The warm bowl of popcorn settled onto your lap as you flipped through the channels. 

It was that time of the year where the air cooled, leaves fell, and all your favorite scary movies were played on tv. 

You loved it. 

You set the popcorn on the table in front of you, sighing as you leaned your head back against the couch. Your new blanket that you had picked up earlier this week was lulling you to sleep. Your fuzzy pumpkin socks keeping you warm. 

You fell asleep to the sound of the final girl screaming on screen but it didn’t last long when a knock on the door had you jolting up. 

You craned your head, checking upstairs to make sure it wasn’t Jamie needing you. 

You were about to brush it off as a dream, or maybe noise from the horror movie still playing on tv when you heard three loud knocks on the front door again. 

You sat up, pushing the blanket to the side. You couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Who would be knocking on your door this time of night? 

You crept towards the door, your fuzzy socks muting your trek. You stood on your tippy toes and looked through the peephole. 

And nothing was there. 

You shoved down your anxious thoughts. Maybe whoever it was was just standing slightly to the side so you couldn’t see them. 

You unlocked the deadbolt and threw the door open, stepping out onto the porch to get a better look at the emptiness that was before you. 

Unless the pumpkins that lined your step, awaiting you and Eddie to carve them next weekend grew arms and legs then you had been ding-dong ditched. 

You rolled your eyes before sending one more glance up and down your street. There was nothing there besides the orange and purple Halloween decorations that were draped over your neighbors house and the slow falling brown leaves of the trees that lined your street. 

You backed up inside of the open and waiting door behind you, a chill traveling up your spine from the cool breeze. 

You shut the door behind you and locked both locks immediately. 

You crept up the stairs, peeking your head to see Jamie’s sleeping form lightly snoring. You took a moment to marvel at how your sister could make something so cute before you stepped back down the stairs. 

You didn’t feel tired anymore after the door incident.

Something was telling you that you needed to stay awake. 

You grabbed the bowl of popcorn off the couch and made your way to the kitchen, dumping its contents in the trash before placing the orange plastic bowl into the sink to worry about in the morning. 

You went to back away from the sink when a large hand covered your mouth, muffling your scream. You felt yourself being pulled back against a warm body. You flailed your arms, fighting the attacker. Your hand grasped blindly for a weapon and landed on the popcorn bowl in the sink. You started waving it in the air one-handed, hoping to hit the person hard enough in the head to at least make it hurt a little. 

“Oh, damn. Baby, it’s me,” you heard a familiar voice whisper as the calloused hand move away from your mouth. 

You spun in the attackers arms to see Eddie’s wide eyes staring down at you. 

You raised the plastic bowl, smacking him in the chest with it. 

“Ow.” 

“Eddie Munson! You scared the hell out of me!” You whisper yelled, still mindful of Jamie sleeping upstairs. 

“I’m so sorry,” he laughed, sounding not sorry at all. “I didn’t think you would react like that, I thought you would know it was me.” 

He pried the popcorn bowl from your hand and put it back in the sink. 

You swallowed loudly, waiting for your heart rate to return to a normal rhythm again. 

When he saw the distressed look on your face you could see the guilt and worry crossing his features. 

He wrapped both arms around you again and pulled you to his chest. 

“I’m so sorry, baby. It was funny in my head. I didn’t mean to do that to you,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head. 

You sighed, breathing in the scent that came with working on cars all day. It always relaxed you, to be close to him like this. 

“It’s okay. It was funny. I’ve just been watching scary movies,” you said as you smiled up at him. 

“If it makes you feel better you can scare me back,” he offered with raised brows. 

You shook your head. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Let’s go watch a movie.” 

You smiled sweetly, pulling him to your comfy spot on your couch, already concocting a plan to get him back even better than he had gotten you.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson request #eddie munson blurb

[ggomos-maribat]

2 | in which Damian Wayne wakes up to an odd breakfast

Part 2 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist

Saturday. Bruce's only schedule for the day? An interview.

But inside the Wayne manor.

It wasn't Marinette's first visit to the house, but she still couldn't get used to how humongous it was. She readjusted the box in her hands and the coat hanging from her arm as Bruce himself welcomed her at the front door and guided her to the drawing room.

A drawing room that indeed looked expensive but was extremely messy at the moment.

"Where's Alfred?" she asked.

"He's out for groceries and a few other errands," replied Bruce, which explained the state of the room. Which also explained the Batarangs and a utility belt lying out in the open which Bruce didn't seem to notice.

Marinette inwardly sighed one of her many sighs for the day. Her boss was lucky she came over early in the morning on a weekend. She wondered how his identity hadn't been discovered by the public yet. She took the chance to give Bruce a once-over to examine his outfit: polished shoes, blue blazer, blue tie, hair gelled to perfection.

"Is it too formal?" he asked hesitantly.

"They will only take one photograph of you but you have to at least leave the impression that you're not 'all work, no play' in your own house." She crossed her arms. "May I suggest your waffle-knit sweater with a collared dress shirt underneath and light-colored pants?"

What is that expression . . . is Bruce actually pouting?! "Yes, okay. I'll change now."

Just as he was about to turn around and retreat upstairs, Marinette stopped him. "Mr. Wayne, may I tidy up this space for our guests?"

He appeared a shade paler, pinned under her stern gaze. "Yes, of course. Thank you Marinette."

And off he scurried to his bedroom.

With his permission, the PA got to work. Ms. Sinclair and her assistant will be here at eight-thirty. We have around fifteen minutes to prepare. She picked up the papers scattered on top of and underneath the coffee table, stored away the blankets draped on the chairs, and safely hid the Batarangs and other identity-incriminating objects behind some knick knacks on the shelves. Armed with a duster and a lint roller, she moved around to clear the cushions of fur and get rid of the dirt between spaces. Finally, she pulled the curtains open to give a lively view of the courtyard (and to introduce some much-needed sunlight into the area).

When Bruce returned downstairs wearing the outfit from her recommendation, he blinked and looked around as if it was his first time seeing the room. "This looks much better," he hummed in approval.

Marinette topped it off by placing a flower centerpiece on the coffee table. "Anything else you need me to do, Mr. Wayne? Should I sit in during the interview?"

"No thank you, I have another request for you." Bruce's eyes flickered towards the kitchen. "You see, some of my children might already be awake at this time and Alfred's not around to take care of breakfast."

". . . I don't believe this fits my job description."

"I'll add to your pay this month."

"I'll get started on breakfast right away, sir. Any preferences?"

"Anything will do."

Marinette nodded and immediately put away all the cleaning equipment as the doorbell rang. Bruce told her that he would be the one to greet Ms. Sinclair, so she headed for the kitchen instead.

***

Upon entering the new room, Marinette noticed that there was already an occupant inside. A short-haired woman sat on top of a barstool on the kitchen island, cradling a mug. Marinette halted in her tracks, bowing slightly.

"Hello. Miss . . . Cassandra." She smiled softly. "I'm Marinette, Mr. Wayne's assistant. I don't believe we've met before. Your father's currently entertaining a Gazette reporter at the moment and asked me to cook breakfast."

Cassandra, or Cass as Bruce would often refer to her, tilted her head. "Nice to meet you."

Marinette unhooked an apron near the refrigerator. "Would you like me to make you another cup of tea?"

Cass' eyebrows raised, perhaps surprised at how perceptive she was. She gazed down at her mug, thinking, and met Marinette's eyes again. "Sure."

With a one-month raise in mind, Marinette prepared the teapot and collected the ingredients. Thanks for not telling me which children are home, she frowned as she went over the contents of the pantry. Very helpful, Mr. Wayne. She settled on playing it safe: simple but numerous choices.

"Have you got any preferences for breakfast, Miss Cassandra?" She asked as she tipped the teapot over Cass' mug. Cass merely shook her head 'no'.

"Very well."

Marinette had just preheated the pans when footsteps sounded. In rushed another Wayne kid, slinging a bag over his shoulder.

"Good morning, Mr. Thomas," she chirped. "Would you like coffee, tea, or juice?"

Duke looked like he was caught off guard seeing her there. He looked back and forth between her and Cass, eyes filled with confusion. His sister only motioned for him to reply to Marinette.

"Uuh, coffee please," he responded, walking up to a barstool to sit down.

"I'll brew a cup for you right away." Marinette took the empty coffee maker, suspiciously containing remnants of the drink. Mr. Drake's doing, no doubt. "Mr. Wayne had me get started on breakfast since Mr. Pennyworth isn't here at the moment."

"Ohh," said Duke. "Marinette, right? It's a Saturday today though. Bruce called you in just to make breakfast? He's incompetent but not that incompetent, you know."

"He does require my presence for the interview he's doing." Marinette motioned towards the direction of the drawing room. "I have nothing to do while he's currently conversing with Ms. Sinclair, so he thought I could cook some food for you."

"Pretty sure his main problem was breakfast though."

Marinette slowly nodded in agreement, stirring the contents of one pot. "I didn't object because he promised to compensate me fairly."

"As he should." Duke brought out his phone to check his reflection on the camera. "By the way, do either of you have any tips for an internship interview?"

Cass shrugged and patted his hand. "You'll do well."

"Really? I almost couldn't sleep last night because of it." Duke huffed. "Then Tim told me to just wing it after I caught him making coffee."

Marinette contributed two words while still moving around to cook: "Your cologne."

Duke sniffed himself. "Does it smell bad?"

"It's best to go for a more subtle scent." She wrinkled her nose and momentarily reached for her bag to toss him a bottle that she brought. "Here, this might be more suitable."

"You brought men's cologne?" Duke stared at the glass sprayer in disbelief.

"You'd be surprised at how many things Mr. Wayne unexpectedly needs." The reply drew out a little laugh from Cass.

Duke took a whiff and lit up. "I'll go change and put this on. Thanks, Mars!"

As he raced back up the stairs, Marinette checked the time. She untied her apron, poured out four cups of coffee, and prepared them with differently: the first two (one for Duke), she used only creamer and sugar; in the second one, she added just the right amount of sugar; and in the last, a vanilla flavoring, tower of whipped cream, and a dash of cinnamon. Next, she quickly set up the three drinks on a wooden tray, plus three plates of pastries from the box she brought.

Thank kwamis Alfred has a good kitchen arrangement system, she thought.

"Please excuse me for a moment." She told Cass as she picked up the tray.

She was granted impeccable timing when she slipped into the drawing room—Bruce and Ms. Sinclair had paused their interview, with the latter's eyes immediately gleaming in delight upon seeing the snacks and drinks. Meanwhile, Sinclair's assistant-slash-photographer gawked.

"Excuse me, here's some refreshments." Marinette beamed at the journalist, setting down the tray. "Mr. Wayne picked these pastries just for you, miss. I hope you enjoy them."

"Goodness!" Excitement was practically radiating from the woman. "Aw, Bruce you didn't have to!"

Ms. Sinclair wasn't a difficult person to please. A quick research told Marinette that she had a sweet tooth. A much deeper (totally not borderline stalker-ish) research revealed her favorite coffee blend and pastry shop.

Marinette definitely read a hint of surprise from Bruce, even if he did a good job of concealing it. Because Bruce, in fact, didn't prepare the pastries and is seeing them for the first time. He directed a charming smile at Ms. Sinclair. "It's the least I can do. Please enjoy."

"Such a dear," the woman gushed. "Now I might do three pages of the magazine for you, not two!"

And when Bruce glanced at Marinette, she sent him a look saying 'you better thank the heavens you have me.'

***

When she returned, Duke was back, happily sipping his coffee but along with him was a newcomer.

The youngest son.

Marinette had met Damian Wayne only a few times before and only when Bruce was around. Bruce had introduced him fleetingly, so she had only managed to exchange simple greetings with him, not anything more.

But despite their lack of interaction, Marinette knew a lot about Damian from Bruce's ramblings during lull time at work. He'd tell her 'Damian tried to adopt another cat', 'I think Damian's mad at me', 'How can I get Damian and Jason to bond together?', 'Damian threatened to go back to his mother if I don't agree to let Titus come on vacation with us', or 'I think Damian just used a slang on me. What does this mean?'

Marinette would give her best advice to her boss during those times, but she couldn't help but wonder if the resolutions ever worked with Damian since Bruce never relayed follow-ups.

"Good morning, Damian," she greeted, "Breakfast is almost ready. Would you like a drink?"

"Thomas filled me in." He set his bag on top of the counter. "Father really shouldn't be calling his PA for this. And no, I don't want a drink. I have to go soon."

Duke eyed his brother's outfit. "You have school today?"

"I asked my art teacher if I can come in today to work on my painting as we're not allowed to take our artworks home." Damian replied.

"No need to come in on time," Cass pointed out. "Come eat."

Damian narrowed his eyes at the pans on the stove. "I cannot eat—"

"Vegan kimchi fried rice and tofu scramble," Marinette said, "I cooked something else for you."

". . . Tt. Fine." And he begrudgingly took his seat.

The three siblings watched as Marinette served a feast—the delicious aroma of breakfast wafted around the room as she carefully plated the dishes in perfect portions. She didn't know if her cooking was on par with Alfred's, but she should at least impress them for the good pay she was getting from Bruce. She set down the plates in front of them with a simple 'bon appétit!'

Duke shoveled up the food quickly. "This is so good!" He took another bite.

To this, Cass nodded in agreement. Meanwhile, Damian quietly chewed his meal, paying no compliments.

But he gazed up at Marinette. "You're not going to eat?"

"Oh, no thank you," Marinette declined, "I wouldn't want to impose, and I already ate before I came here."

It was a full-on lie. It was taking all of her strength to not let her stomach growling be heard. Although she was inside Bruce's home, she still had to act professional. Luckily, Damian only raised an eyebrow skeptically and continued eating.

***

"Is there anything else you need, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce seemed stunned for a second after seeing Marinette hand a packed lunch to Duke before he rushed out. He even taste-tested her cooking and remarked how delicious it was.

He blinked at her. "Nothing else. You've done so much already, thank you."

"I should be going home then."

"Wait." Bruce spun around to face his son. "Damian, you're heading out too. Can you drive Marinette home?"

"But Father—"

"I can commute on my own, it's no problem at all." Marinette stepped forward.

"Her residence is on your way to school," Bruce insisted. "And please let him take you, Marinette, as thanks for breakfast."

When her gaze landed on Damian, he didn't seem too happy about it. But how could she deny a free ride?

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne." She bowed slightly. "I'll see you on Monday."

***

Suffice to say, the walk to the car and most of the ride was full of awkward silence. Marinette tried not to look at Damian every second or so. She went over her mental notes about him. Damian Al Ghul Wayne. The current Robin, who's attending university. Likes animals, broody, formerly extremely violent. If she remembered correctly, he was around her age.

"Take the next right over there and my apartment's in the second building." She offered a small smile. "Thank you for the ride again."

He didn't reply.

He only followed her directions and stopped in front of her building. As a last attempt at communication, Marinette took the box with pastries left over and held it out to him.

"Here, you can take these last two. They're vegan." Marinette watched as his gaze dropped down to the box before lifting up to meet hers.

"No thank you. You should have them instead—you're starving, aren't you?" He tapped his fingers on the wheel. "Besides, you're the one who bought that."

Her eyes widened. Had she been obvious the whole time? "Um, er . . ." She retracted her arms. "Okay. Thank you."

She unclasped her seatbelt and sneaked another glance at him. She was close to opening the door when she stopped. "Hey, can you take off your seatbelt for a sec?"

He frowned. "What?"

"It won't take long, Mr. Wayne."

"I don't—" He cut himself off and sighed, most likely remembering one of their first encounters. He'd ask her to call him Damian, not 'Mr. Wayne' like his father, so she'd only use his last name when he wasn't being cooperative.

Damian did as she said and she reached over to undo his tie. He didn't say anything as she redid the lopsided knot, tying his necktie neatly and smoothing over the creases.

She didn't notice how small the distance between them had become until she felt his breath on her forehead.

"There you go." She pulled away and opened the door. "Alfred usually helps you with that, doesn't he?"

"Yes," he mumbled.

She smiled. "Good luck with your painting, Damian."

Again, silence. But Marinette pretended not to notice him fumbling with his seatbelt as she got out of the car. 

#maribat fic #maribat fanfic #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat #dc x miraculous #NMWYCAM #PA!Marinette

[strangerquinns]

I have a request for you! Stiles and female reader in bed and they’re sleeping he wakes up and just stares at her and runs his hand over her naked back and she wakes up and smut ensues

Stiles Stilinski x Female Reader

18+ for sexual situations

morning sex with stiles

The sun streamed in through the window behind his headboard, stretching its bright yellow rays across his face. Stiles' face scrunched up slightly as his sleep was interrupted. Slowly his mind and body began to wake up. Stiles stifled a yawn before his brown eyes blinked awake - the first thing his eyes see is you. The blanket draped around your waist and left the upper part of your back exposed to him.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips before he moved closer to you. Stiles bent down and pressed his lips against your bare shoulder while his hands wrapped around your waist, his hand spanning over your lower stomach. You moaned softly in your sleep, not fully waking, but relaxing into his touch.

His smile tugged up his lips a little more before his hand moved back around so it traveled up your back. The soft caress of his fingers dancing across your skin began to slowly wake up you as well. Your face nuzzled into the pillow beneath your head and moaned softly as Stiles' scent surrounded you.

"Mmmm, Stiles..." You moaned as his fingers moved along the side of your chest and teased your nipple slightly. "...baby,"

"Morning beautiful," His voice was deeper from his sleep still, a roughness to it that had you whimpering for a different reason.

"We didn't wake up last night...what if your dad came and checked on you?" You slowly turned to face him, shifting your body closer to his till both your legs intertwined together.

"My dad loves you, even if he did come in, we just looked like we're sleeping." Stiles shrugged his shoulder slightly. "But I also made sure to lock the door before we even...slept."

A cocky smirk spread across his face that had you rolling your eyes. Stiles moved to hover over you slightly and bent down to kiss your lips. Your hand moved up to grab the back of his neck, your nails scratching along his skin and sending a shiver down his spine.

Stiles' hands traveled along your body as your lips moved against each other. With each passing second, the kiss becomes more and more feverish between you both. You pulled back from each other but didn't stop touching and caressing one another. His lips moved to kiss and suck down your neck as your hand traveled down his chest and moved down further. Your fingers teased over his pubes before wrapping around his cock, feeling him hard and heavy in your hand. Stiles whimpered against your lips with a curse as your hand stroked him slowly.

"Stiles," You moaned as his thumb moved against your nipple again, before his lips wrapped around it. "...F-Fuck..."

You loved feeling him jerk within your hand the more you stroked him. When Stiles pulled back slightly, you used the momentum to push him onto his back. The blanket fell from the two of you as you eagerly settled between his legs. Stiles looked down and watched you with lustful eyes as your lips wrapped around him. His jaw dropped with a soft breathy moan as your tongue moved against him.

"O-Oh...fucking...god, baby." Stiles groaned as his hand reached down to fist your hair, guiding you more, to take him deeper down your throat. "God damn...love seeing those lips wrapped around me."

You looked up towards him as your lips pressed against his base, choking slightly, before pulling back. His cock left your mouth with a soft pop and saliva strung between your lips and his head. Your hand continued to stroke him as you watched him. How his chest moved a little faster the more his breath picked up. How it also flushed red slightly. Stiles right on the brink only turned you on more and made you aching for him more.

His hand reached out and caressed your thigh, making a pulling motion to move you straddle over him.

"Come here, baby...wanna watch you ride me." Stiles moaned

Your teeth pulled your lower lip in between them as you straddled over him more. You teased his cock against your wet slit for a few passing moments before slowly sinking down around him. You bent down and brought him into a kiss to muffle both your sounds, unsure of his father as still home. The last thing you wanted was the Sheriff hearing as you fucked his son.

The moment he was fully, deep inside of you, you sat there for a moment. You were still sore from the night before when you came back to his place after a date. You pulled back and pressed your hands against his chest before you began to move. Slowly rising before sinking back down. Stiles moved his hand to grab at your waist and help guide you more.

"That's it...oh, fuck, fuck fuck," Stiles groaned. "God...fucking love your pussy so much baby."

Stiles growled as he felt you pulse and tighten around him more at the sound of his words. You were always a lover of his dirty talk, only becoming slicker and pulling him into you deeper the more her called you a "good girl," and told you how tight and wet your pussy felt.

As you picked up the rhythm and pace his bed rocked against the wall slightly. Stiles grabbed you and pulled you down to his chest, halting your movement, before he began to thrust up into you. Thankfully your face was nuzzled into his neck as you screamed out his neck. Stiles placed his feet flat on his bed and used the leverage to fuck harder and deeper into you - without the bed banging against the wall.

"...yes, yes, yes...fuuck, don't stop...oh, Stiles." You chanted with a breathy moan in his ear as he hit the right spot over and over again. You felt your toes begin to curl as the ever-approaching orgasm grew stronger and closer.

"Mmmm can feel you tightening around me baby." Stiles grabbed tighter to your ass as he held you, "Gonna cum for me like a good girl? Cum all over my cock till I fill you up?"

You pulled back till both your forehead were pressed together, looking deep into his eyes as all you were able to do was moan in response while nodding your head. One of his hands moved from your ass, and instead grabbed around your throat. A small little gasp came from you before he tightened around it more and more. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head till soon you were sent over.

His hand around your throat muffled out your cry as you came, your hips grinding down against him as it moved through your body quickly. Just as you were coming down, Stiles rolled the both of you over as he drove into you with erratic, harder thrusts. You tightened around him more as you heard the sounds of his cock thrusting in and out of you, mixing in with your heavy pants and moans.

"Give it to me, give it to me," You chanted over and over before Stiles pressed his hips tightly against yours, cumming deep inside of you. Your legs hooked around his waist and pulled him in tighter and closer.

"Fuck, Y/N" Stiles groaned before bending down and kissing you. It was sloppy and passionate as you two laid there. "Can't get enough of you, beautiful...goddamn..."

You smiled up towards him, caressing his face, "Good...cause I can't get enough of you."

#stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski fic #stiles stilinski x female reader #stiles stilinski x y/n #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski concept #stiles stilinski blurb #teen wolf imagine #stiles stilinski imagine #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien x female reader

[negans-lucille-tblr]

My Worthless Love || Part Three

Summary: At first, Dean can’t believe his luck that he gets to date a porn star, but soon the cracks start to show, and Dean gets to see a totally different side to the industry that bursts his bubble and leaves him torn. 

Rating: 18+

Part Tags: Fluff, seduction, smut, slightly domme!Reader, slightly sub!Dean, second base, blowjob, p in v, mentions of porn, mentions of sex work, slight angst

Part WC: 2874

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Dean’s POV

Dean lost feeling in his arm about half an hour into the movie, but he hasn’t said anything, enjoying the feeling of Y/N snuggled into his side far too much to make her move. Though, he can’t help but feel a little relieved when he sees the credits start to roll, meaning it’s finally over and she might move and give him his dead limb back. But after a few moments, he realises she’s not going anywhere, and looks down at her to see her eyes are closed, and she’s fallen asleep. He’s careful to shift his weight under her, removing his feet from the coffee table and sitting up a little straighter, scooping his free hand under her head to stop it from falling as he finally moves his trapped arm and attempts to lay her head down on a couch cushion instead, readjusting the blanket to cover her shoulders and arms. 

Standing up to his feet, Dean swings his arm around to encourage the blood flow to return, and reaches down for the TV remote to turn the movie off. He stares down at her for a moment, considering if he should attempt to move her to her bed without disturbing her once all the feeling has returned to his arm, or whether he should just leave her on the couch. Her couch is fairly big and comfortable, and it’s hardly cold, so the soft blanket draped over her frame will be enough to keep her warm throughout the night. He’d been careful in the three weeks since finding out about her work that he didn’t overstep any boundaries, determined to prove to her that he really is different. Dean just can’t quite work out if putting her to bed is a line he can cross or not. 

Maybe he’s overthinking it, but he decides it’s safer he doesn’t do it, just in case it is a boundary she’s not ready for him to break through yet, and takes a deep breath, clearing away the empty bowl that had popcorn in it not long ago, and gathering the empty beer bottles to clear away into the kitchen. When he returns, Y/N is still asleep, and so he decides he’s going to head home, leaving a text on her cell to explain his absence for when she wakes up in the morning. Not that he’s stayed the night yet, anyway. 

He reaches for his jacket and heads towards the door, trying to open it as quietly as he can so as not to disturb her, but the bolt on her door is pretty sturdy, and it clunks loudly when he tries to open it. He doesn’t look back, just keeps going, finally getting her door open and hoping he’s not woken her, when he hears her voice. 

“Sneaking out on me?” she accuses, and as Dean turns around he sees a soft smirk on her lips. 

“I didn’t want to wake you, and it’s pretty late, figured I’d outstayed my welcome,” he explains sheepishly. 

“You could never outstay your welcome,” she reassures him, sitting up and hugging the blanket to her body. 

Dean figures that now she’s awake, he can at least say goodbye the way they’ve grown accustomed to, and steps back into the apartment and closes her door, heading over to her to lean down and kiss her lips softly. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart, go back to sleep,” he tells her quietly, but before he can straighten up, Y/N reaches out and clutches the front of his shirt. 

“Wait, I’ve got something for you,” she tells him with a slight smirk, biting down on her bottom lip before throwing the blanket off of her body and getting up. “Wait there, okay?” she commands playfully. Dean holds his hands up in defense to indicate that he’ll do as he’s told, and perches himself on the arm of the couch as he waits. 

“Why don’t you give it to me tomorrow, you clearly need rest,” he calls through to her as she disappears into her bedroom. 

“No! I want to give it to you tonight, I planned it out!” He hears her call back. 

Dean’s not really sure what to expect, they’ve not exchanged gifts before, if this is even a gift at all, but he waits patiently, honouring the fact that whatever she’s about to give him, she wants to do right now. All he was going to do was go home and begin his binge of page four of her movie catalogue, anyway. He’s got to stop himself from going crazy somehow, and just seeing her has been enough for now. Sure, he’s counting down the days until he can do more than just see her, but he meant it when he said he wanted to take it at her pace, and he plans to stick by that. He’s not about to be one of those assholes that pressures her into something she’s not ready for. 

Dean’s snapped out of his thoughts when Y/N re-emerges from her bedroom, now dressed in a robe. He realises her hands are empty, though, and begins to grow a little confused. That is, until Y/N reaches for the tie on her robe, and starts to slowly tug it loose, and as the silk material begins to fall open, it reveals matching black lace underneath. Dean’s mouth automatically falls open at the sight. Thanks to her job and his new found obsession with supporting her work, Dean’s seen it all already, but never in person, and fuck, it’s so much better through his own eyes than a camera lens. 

“I was hoping you’d stay the night,” Y/N explains, playing with her robe, beginning to drape it over her shoulders and down her arms. “Unless you’d rather get home,” she adds, the slight smirk on her face giving away just how ludicrous she knows that idea is already. 

“Fuck,” Dean chokes out. “I mean… are you sure?” he manages to think to ask just in time. 

“I think I’ve made you wait long enough,” she nods, before smiling. “I trust you, Dean.” 

“I am so glad you do right now,” Dean admits, unable to take his eyes off of her. 

She giggles, dropping the robe completely to the floor. “So are you coming?” she prompts, nodding her head towards the open door of her bedroom, and Dean can’t get to his feet and clamber after her quick enough. 

Finally. 

That’s all that’s racing through Dean’s mind as he places wet, messy kisses along Y/N’s collarbone, feeling her hand push under the elastic waistband of his boxers, her fingers wrapping around his throbbing cock. He moans almost involuntarily, his one hand exploring every dip and curve of her body, the other digging into the pillow beside her head, holding his weight off of her. His wandering hand settles between her legs, his fingers pushing the soft lace out of his way so he can toy with her wet, warm pussy. 

Y/N moans and arches her back further into him, her grip on his length tightening a little, and Dean smirks against her skin at the response he’s been able to elicit from her. He’s fairly confident from his hours of what he’ll now call research that he knows what is going to make her make all those noises that have filled his bedroom the last few weeks. He’s imagined himself in place of whatever guy that has been lucky enough to accompany her. Now he just needs to put it into action. 

Dean slips a finger inside her, feeling her clench around him wrapping him in warm, soft velvet, and then he steadies himself on his knees between her legs, using his free hand to softly wrap his fingers around her throat. 

“Such a naughty little girl,” he growls, making her laugh breathlessly. 

But Dean’s surprised to feel her hand slipping out of his boxers, and he pulls away to see if he’s done something wrong. But Y/N is still smirking, and she places both her hands flat on his chest as she sits up. 

“Why don’t you lay down?” she suggests, though there’s something in her voice that makes it seem like maybe it’s more of a demand. 

Dean’s not complaining one bit, in fact his cock throbs in response as he eagerly moves to lay flat on his back like she’d told him to, looking up at her with his chest heaving. 

“That’s better,” she purrs, biting down on her bottom lip as a darkness washes into her eyes and she climbs further down the bed. She hooks her fingers into his boxers and begins to tug them, pulling them off of his legs completely and throwing them to the floor, his cock springing free and bouncing up to lay on his stomach, completely hard and begging for attention. 

He whimpers as he looks down his body at her, feeling completely at her mercy. This is so different to how she is in her movies, but Dean’s fairly sure that this is better. Especially when she slowly climbs back onto the bed, crawling up his body, mischief in her eyes, and Dean can’t wait to find out why. 

“Just relax,” she whispers, her hot breath ghosting over the shell of his ear. “Let me take care of you, baby.” 

Dean groans low in his throat, pushing his head back, deeper into the pillow beneath him as Y/N’s mouth leaves his ear and begins to travel south. Barely there kisses are placed over his chest and down his torso, and then he feels her wrapping her hand around his erection once more. The soft, sponginess of the inside of her lips encases his tip and Dean moans, his hand automatically reaching for the back of her head, but her own hand reaches out to grab his wrist, pushing it away and pinning it to the mattress at his side, before she begins to take him deeper into her mouth, swirling her tongue softly and beginning to suck a little harder. 

He clenches his hands into fists at his side, not knowing what else to do with them, and Y/N chuckles around his length when he assumes she notices, withdrawing and sitting up, Dean’s cock slapping against his stomach now completely spit sodden and even more desperate than it had been before. He almost whines when he sees her crawling backwards and climbing off the bed, but he cuts it short when he sees it’s only for her to remove the black lace underwear that she’d surprised him with. Now completely naked, she gets back on the bed, not taking her eyes off of his as she climbs a little higher up his body. 

Dean thinks his heart might beat out of his chest, and his lungs might explode – and his cock too for that matter. This is not how he ever envisaged it would go, but it’s so much more than he ever realised he needed. He watches as Y/N slowly straddles his waist, keeping her hips raised to begin with, and he hesitantly lifts his hand, wondering if he’s allowed to touch her yet. She doesn’t stop him this time, and so his hand reaches for her waist first, squeezing softly, before reaching up further, ghosting over her breast before settling on cupping the side of her face. Y/N leans into the touch and smiles gently before biting her bottom lip and resting her hands on his chest. 

“Are you ready?” she asks, like she needs to. 

Dean doesn’t even dignify the question with a response, and Y/N clearly wasn’t looking for one, anyway, because she reaches between them and guides him towards her core, beginning to lower her hips so he slides inside. She settles and doesn’t move for a moment, her nails softly digging into the soft muscle on his pecks, and then she wiggles her hips slightly and gasps for breath, before leaning down and kissing him breathlessly, and Dean can’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around her tight to keep her close.

“You’re quiet,” Y/N’s voice breaks the silence, and she slowly lifts her head from Dean’s chest to look at him. “What’re you thinking about?” 

Dean licks his lips, wondering if he should even voice his thoughts out loud. He doesn’t want to spoil their moment, not after something that incredible, but he also doesn’t want to lie to her, or make her think he’s closing off. 

“That was different to how I imagined it,” he finally admits, hoping he’s worded it right. 

Y/N cocks an eyebrow as a smirk begins to grace her lips and then she scoffs. “You’ve been watching my movies, haven’t you?” she accuses. 

Dean’s impressed she can read so far between the lines, but he instantly feels bad about the fact. “I’m sorry, look I won’t watch any more if you don’t want me to,” he reassures her immediately. 

She giggles slightly and shakes her head. “It’s fine, Dean. I did make you wait a long time, and I guess you were curious.” Dean doesn’t reply, a little ashamed by the fact still, but Y/N pushes through. “So how many have you seen?” 

“Urm, a few,” he attempts to lie, but immediately regrets his decision. He should just be honest with her, it’s for the best. “Okay, three pages of them.” 

“Jesus, Dean,” Y/N gasps and then laughs in disbelief. “That’s a little more than curious.” 

“What can I say? I got carried away, I guess.” 

Y/N scoffs again, shaking her head, “I’m surprised you wanted to watch that many. Didn’t you get jealous?” she pries. 

“Oh fuck yeah, I hate every single guy you’ve filmed with,” he admits unashamedly, making her laugh some more. 

“I kinda do too,” she whispers, like it’s a secret. 

Dean laughs this time, but then it dies a little when he considers what she’s actually telling him and why she might feel that way. He doesn’t like the thought of her having sex with men she doesn’t even like, even if that is good news for him and his jealousy. 

“Why do you do it?” he wonders, hoping he’s not crossed some kind of line. 

Y/N shrugs and climbs off the bed, reaching for another robe draped over the couch in the corner of her room. “It’s good money, and I’m good at it,” she explains. 

He doesn’t want to push further than that right now, especially not when he had promised her he’d never ask her to change for him, and any direction this conversation might go in could seem like he’s trying to talk her into quitting. They’ve barely been a real couple long enough for him to be entitled to any kind of opinion on the entire thing. 

“How did you get into it?” he asks next, lifting his head and tucking his arm underneath it. 

“I… needed money so I started dancing at a club, and there’s always scouts there, one approached me, I took the offer, here I am,” she briefly concludes. 

Dean can sense that she doesn’t really want to talk about it anymore, so he decides to stop playing twenty questions. He’s not really brought up her job much since the first time they talked about it, and while after sex seemed like a good time to start asking these things – especially when she brought it up in the first place – Dean’s now realising that him suddenly showing a big interest in her work after having sex with her might play on her insecurities about men using her. 

“Listen, Dean,” Y/N sighs, beginning to play with her fingers in front of her, and Dean worries that maybe she’s read too much into his curiosity and this isn’t about to go well. She approaches the bed and climbs back on, sitting alongside him as she continues to focus on her fingers. “I’m not that girl in those movies. I purposefully made her nothing like me so I could deal with it all easier,” she explains. 

Deal with it all? Deal with what? Dean wants to ask, but he’s done enough prying for today. 

“If that’s what you’re looking for then you’re wasting your time here.” 

“What?” Dean chokes out, suddenly realising her insecurities are about something very different. She thinks she’s not enough for him? “No, no sweetheart,” he sits up, rushing to reassure her. He reaches out and grabs her arm softly. “Hey, listen to me,” he encourages, waiting for her to lift her face as she looks him in the eye. “Tonight was better than I thought it could be. I prefer you… the real you.” 

A small frown flits over Y/N’s features for a second. “Really?” 

“Yeah, definitely,” he scoffs. “If I’m honest, at the start, I was just trying to give you what I thought you wanted,” he adds with a blush. 

Y/N laughs softly, shaking her head. “I just want you Dean, exactly as you are,” she confirms.

“Good, because I want you too,” he smiles, before kissing her softly.

Please let me know what you think of this fic! Feedback is the fuel to writers' fires! My anon is on if you'd prefer to leave feedback anonymously!

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#my worthless love #dean x reader #mini series #dean winchester #smut #angst #fluff #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #negans-lucille-tblr

[commander-krios]

Better Judgment: Part Two

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: f!Tav/Rolan Rating: Mature Summary: Lorroakan was dead.Now came the mortifying ordeal of thanking his savior. Again. Words: 5885 Additional Tags: Tiefling Tav, Tieflings, Named Tav, BG3 Spoilers, Minor Act 3 Spoilers, Bard Tav, Blood and Injury, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Banter, Intimacy, Ceremorphosis Mention, Love Confessions

Read on AO3: Part One Part Two

The sun hadn’t even risen when Rolan opened his eyes, nestled beneath blankets in a bed that wasn’t his. He tried to move, but found he was pinned beneath something… no, someone. Memories from the night before filled his head and he smiled. With a quick exhale, the tightness in his chest receded slightly, the disorientation he felt at his unfamiliar surroundings dispelling like early morning fog.

How long had it been since he’d felt so content? So free? When was the last time he didn’t fear closing his eyes in an unfamiliar place?

His gaze sought the person he shared a bed with, thrilled to see a mess of raven hair tumbling around two familiar horns before it splayed out across his chest. 

Her face was tilted in his direction, eyes closed and her breathing soft. While her body was pressed against the curve of his hip, her tail had wrapped itself around his leg, the sensation strange yet wholly welcome. Her arm was draped across him, hand resting on the opposite side of the bed, nails brushing the sheets gently. He stilled, not wanting to wake her with any sudden movements. She was in a deep sleep, little snores leaving her mouth with each exhale. 

Juniper.

His heart swelled at the sight. She’d asked him to stay the night with her and now, in the light of a new day, Rolan understood why. She felt safe, comfortable, completely at ease with him. How long had it been since she had slept so undisturbed?

Rolan brushed some hair behind one pointed ear, running the tip of his finger across the edge. She was so peaceful, so beautiful as she slept. When awake, she drove him to insanity with how easily she got beneath his skin. Doubly so since she did it on purpose. But here, with her mouth firmly shut in sleep, he enjoyed the peace of her body against his. 

Twirling a stray piece of Juniper’s hair around his finger, he knew, deep in his bones, that what he felt as he watched her was something far deeper than a crush.

With a happy sigh, he shifted forward and pressed a soft kiss against the wrinkle in her forehead, her skin warm against his lips. He lingered briefly, feeling his heart thud dangerously fast in his chest. There was nowhere he’d rather be, no one he’d rather share his successes and failures with. And that fact scared him as much as it delighted him.

Who would have thought something like this was still possible for him?

“I love you.” 

The whispered words escaped him before he could do anything to stop them. But once they passed his lips, he knew he’d never take them back. No matter how much it terrified him to be vulnerable with another person, especially one he owed his life several times over to, he wouldn’t regret what he felt. He couldn’t… not with her in his arms.

He watched her in the comfortable silence for a few minutes more, refusing to disturb her restful sleep, when Juniper’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on him before a stunning smile broke across her face. It stole the breath from his lungs, her happiness brighter than any morning he’d witnessed before.

“Hey, you.” She whispered, voice gravelly from sleep. She shifted to lay on her stomach, tilting her head until it rested on the mattress, eyes never leaving him as she moved. Almost as if she was afraid to blink and he’d be gone. “You stayed.”

Rolan noted her tail was still twined around his leg. “I couldn’t move with all that weight on top of me.”

She snorted, burying her face in the blankets. His heart felt like it would escape from beneath his ribs and fly away, his head dizzy from being so close to her after all of this time. She reached out and pushed against his arm, barely budging his larger body but the touch was so casual, so intimate that he had to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry to have ruined your night, Master Rolan.” 

He gripped her wrist in his hand and tugged her closer until she rested on top of him again. She giggled once more, blush spreading from her cheeks down her neck and across her chest. “You’ll have to make it up to me, of course.”

“Make it up to you? Haven’t I suffered enough broken noses for you?” She asked sarcastically, resting her cheek against his chest, fluttering her eyes as if it was that easy to weaken him. 

He hated to admit it did and for once, he wasn’t upset about the fact.

“That’s hardly fair. I didn’t ask you to break your nose for me.” The sun was beginning to rise, light peeking between the curtains and painting the floors in a golden glow. 

“I have a talent for getting you out of trouble.” She teased, running her fingers across his linen shirt, the feel of her claws against his chest eliciting a shiver from him. The touch was simple yet perhaps because of the simplicity of it, he wanted to kiss her senseless. It was intimate, more intimate of a touch than he’d enjoyed before and he only craved more.

“You have a talent for getting into trouble when no one asked for help.”

Juniper sighed, turning her face away from him, her fingers toying with a stitch in his shirt and falling silent. Did he offend her with his bluntness? Gods, what a fool he was. He closed his eyes, hoping she would ignore his comment and continue on as if he’d said nothing at all. That would certainly be better than feeling like an idiot. Why was it so hard to express what he felt?

He reached up to brush his hand over her hair, the loose strands slipping between his fingers like water, landing against his chest in the silence with the softest sound.

“I’d do it again.” 

It was a whisper, so quiet that he swore he’d imagined it at first.

“What did you say?”

She hesitated, fingers stilling against his chest. When she finally spoke again, her voice was strained, and a tightness crept into his chest at how sad she sounded. “I would do it again, Rolan. All of it: the goblins, the shadow creatures and Moonrise. Lorroakan. I would fight them all again, over and over if I had to, to keep you and Cal and Lia safe.”

And that was it, wasn’t it? Juniper had saved him more times than he deserved and even still, she was willing to do it again. To risk her life, constantly, to make sure he was safe and happy when he’d done nothing to earn her help, her friendship, her affection.

Why him out of all of the people who fled from Elturel? She’d latched onto him so thoroughly that he was afraid to lose her. Their fates had become intertwined and he didn’t want to let her go.

“And I’m sitting here with a tadpole in my head and a city to save, but all I can think about is how I’m going to destroy the Elder Brain so you can be safe.”

“I-”

What in the nine hells was he supposed to say?

How could anything he did ever compare to that?

An idea flashed into his mind: the tadpole. Perhaps there was something he could do to help. Lorroakan had amassed a wealth of knowledge over the years. He probably never knew what sort of things he was hoarding, the tomes in his library alone no doubt were of immense value.

With his mind spinning at the possibilities, he shifted to sit up, hating how heavy his heart felt at the idea of leaving her.

“I should probably leave.” Rolan forced the words past his lips, knowing he would’ve stayed in bed with her for the entire day if he could get away with it. But he had responsibilities: to his siblings and to the tower that was now in his hands. Juniper glanced up, curious, and he felt like his excuses were weak before he even spoke them. “I need to catalog the arcane defenses, among other things. Learn how they work. So when the time comes I can protect…” You. “The city.”

If Juniper noticed the hesitation, she didn’t say anything. Leaning closer, she pressed a soft kiss to his nose, forcing a grin on her lips when she pulled back. “Do you mind if I come by later? I could use some scrolls. I need to stock up, you know, in case I need to save you later.”

He knew why she wanted to come by, it was written all over her face. She was worried about him. Still. Even with Lorroakan dead, she wasn’t going to stop trying to protect him. Normally, he would’ve found the entire situation bothersome, frustrating, rage inducing… but as she watched him in the following silence, his heart was in his throat, and he basked in the bliss of being warm and safe by her side.

“Of course. You’re welcome whenever you’d like.”

Her next smile was genuine, a mixture of surprise and delight that made her even more lovely than he thought possible. Rolan brushed a knuckle across her cheek, memorizing the sight of her relaxed, content, at peace. Knowing he was the responsible party.

It was almost too much.

“May I borrow Gale for the day? He knows more about the weave than I do. His expertise would be invaluable.”

“Whatever you need. I can’t think of anything more Gale would want to do than be lost among a sea of books.” Juniper sat up, taking her warmth with her and he missed the touch of her skin immediately.  He didn’t relish the thought of leaving her without a wizard for backup in some of the shadier parts of Baldur’s Gate, but if Gale could help him search the library for books on the Illithid and ceremorphosis, there might be a chance to save her. To save them all. “As much as I would love to have him with me when I confront Shadowheart’s past, I think some quiet time would do him good.”

“Thank you. I… I appreciate everything you’ve done.” His mouth went dry when her expression softened, her hand finding his so she could entwine their fingers together. “For Cal and Lia. For me.”

Juniper leaned over him, her hair brushing his face softly as her lips touched his. He almost melted at the contact. She didn’t acknowledge his words with a response, only gave him a grin before sliding from the bed. “I’ll see you at Sorcerous Sundries later.”

As she crossed the room to where a bag sat slumped against the floor, in nothing but an oversized tunic, Rolan had to remember how to breathe.

~~~~

“You didn’t come back to the room last night.”

Rolan glanced up from the coffee he’d been about to sip, raising his eyebrows as Lia and Cal slid onto the chairs across from him. He watched his sister warily, calculating how best to respond to the obvious dirt digging. When she didn’t question him further and only smiled at him sweetly, he sighed and drank deeply of the cup, before setting it on the table in front of him.

“No, I did not.” He replied, rolling his eyes and returning to the page of the opened book in his other hand. “Did you only just notice? It’s nearly ten in the morning. You’re usually more perceptive than that.”

Lia’s smile widened despite the insult he so easily leveled at her. Worry curled in his gut at the look. “So, I guess that means you spent the entire night with a certain bard.”

Cal choked on his coffee, sending it out of his nose and onto the Elfsong’s pristine burgundy tablecloth, leaving dark wet splotches across the fabric.

Rolan sighed, placing the book down to level a glare in her direction. “I don’t know what you’re implying. I’m nothing if not a gentleman.”

Raucous laughter was the only response he got, from both of them. One day, maybe they’d stop acting like children. But he didn’t expect to see that anytime soon. 

“With how frustrated she’s made you since the Grove, I’m surprised you even managed to get that sentence out without blushing.” Lia leaned forward to grab the pot of honey for her tea. “I figured you’d go to Sharess’ Caress? Work out your frustrations there, but you surprised me, Rolan.”

Cal snorted, burying his face behind the tavern menu as if he was reading it. “I figured Rolan could only get a date with a glass of Arabellan Dry, but I can admit when I’m wrong.”

“I don’t need your help in securing a date.” Rolan slanted his gaze at Lia, hating how easy it was for them to rile him up. “Besides, nothing happened.”

Lia relaxed into the chair, lifting her teacup to her mouth. The steam warmed her lips as she smiled, not bothering to hide her smug look from him. “If you say so.”

“I don’t see what’s so funny. Juniper was injured trying to help me. The least you can do is thank her, not mock her.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you thanked her enough for all of us.”

Cal, on the other hand, was more sympathetic. “Lia isn’t mocking her, Rolan.”

“Right. I’m mocking you.”

His frown deepened and Rolan glanced away, staring at the full cup in his hands. His sister had every right to mock him, he’d certainly been insufferable up to this point and the three of them could use something to ground them to their new reality. But Juniper… she deserved better. From everyone.

“Mock me all you want. Just leave her out of it.”

Lia’s smile faltered. Cursing under her breath, she turned to meet Cal’s equally worried expression. “Rolan, I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

Setting the cup down, he pushed away from the table, needing to get away from his siblings and their probing gazes. There was so much that needed to be at Ramazith’s Tower, and yet, the only thought occupying his mind was how much they didn’t understand about Juniper’s situation, about what she was dealing with. Or more specifically, what she wasn’t dealing with.

“I have work to do.”

“Rolan-” Lia grabbed his wrist, stopping him from dashing away. He couldn’t look at her, but he didn’t shake her off. It was enough of an invitation for her to continue, the only one he could give in his current state. “I didn’t realize she actually meant something to you. I’m sorry.”

There was no response he could give to that. Nothing that would delve into the things he still didn’t understand himself. 

“Rolan.” Cal was beside him, pulling him into a hug that nearly crushed the air from his lungs. But he let his brother give him the comfort he was too afraid to ask for. “We want to help you, whatever you need. After everything you’ve done for us-”

“You owe me nothing, Cal.” He made it a point to look directly at Lia. “Neither of you do.”

Lia waved away his concern, a fond smile on her face. “We’ve had to deal with you on the entire trip here. That’s enough penance.”

Rolan snorted, but the sentiment wasn’t lost on him. 

“Just let us know what you need, brother.” Cal continued, stepping away enough to throw an arm around Rolan’s shoulders. “We’ll help you however we can.”

Lia rolled her eyes, but didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around them both, squeezing them into a tight hug. “If we must.”

He was touched. Even after everything they’d been through, his siblings were going to stand by him, even if he was insufferable. “What would I do without you both?”

“Thankfully, you’ll never find out.” 

~~~~

When Gale finally arrived in Ramazith’s Tower in the late morning, Lorroakan’s former study was covered in texts, scrolls, and research papers. The desk, the chairs, the floor: no spot was uncovered. As the wizard came upon the mess, Rolan’s nose was buried in a tome, completely unaware that he was no longer alone.

The history of the Githyanki had offered no solutions. Majority of the book seemed to be tales told throughout the centuries about the Illithid and Gith, nothing factual. Tall tales and little substance. A waste of time that they didn’t have.

“Juni mentioned you needed my aid with some arcane research. I would be delighted to-” 

Gale’s sudden pause drew Rolan’s attention. Pausing in his reading of a particularly gory passage about the particulars of tadpole insertion, he glanced up, the wizard’s back to him as he lifted one of the texts from a chair. 

“I know what you’re trying to do.” Gale turned to him with a frown. The book he held in his hands had been read a few hours ago, but apparently he’d forgotten to return it to the shelves. One of the few books he’d found primarily focused on Illithids. “There is no cure for-”

“We don’t know that.” He snapped, turning away to pull another stack of texts closer, ignoring the tired sigh that escaped the wizard’s mouth. “Lorroakan has been sitting on a wealth of knowledge. We don’t know even a fraction of what this Tower may possess. And if you won’t help me find a cure for you and the rest of the Gate, then I’ll do it alone.”

Grabbing the top book, Rolan flipped it open to the first page, perusing the contents without actually reading a word. He was hyper focused on Gale standing at the end of the table, watching him with a melancholic expression that nearly tore his heart out. The older wizard tapped his fingers against the wood of the table, fighting a battle in his own head. “I know you want to save her-”

“I seem to be the only one who wants to.”

Gale flinched as if he’d been slapped. The frown that pulled at the wizard’s lips should’ve made Rolan feel guilty for being so harsh, but he couldn’t care less at that moment. Juniper’s life hung in the balance. He wouldn’t fail her, not when he might have the solution among the books in a tower that was now his.

After a tense silence, Gale sunk into the plush chair beside the desk, pulling the next book off of the pile without a word. Rolan glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, trying to ignore the hope that bloomed in his chest. There was too much uncertainty in what was lurking on the horizon and yet, he wouldn’t stop searching for a solution, for a way to keep her safe like she’d done for him so many times.

Gale settled into the comfort of reading, his eyes on the pages as he absorbed every detail of what they contained, the silence stretching out between them. After a few minutes, Rolan began to tap his fingers on the page of his own tome, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling curling in his gut. 

“I’m not a fool.” He muttered, staring at the words harder than necessary and ignoring the prickling on the back of his neck as Gale lifted his head. “I know the chances are almost nonexistent, but I… I can’t not try.”

Gale made a sound in his throat that was probably another sigh, but could’ve very well been a cough. “You are doing a wonderful thing even if the results aren’t as you wished. Juniper will appreciate it nevertheless.”

Rolan felt his ears heat at the praise, embarrassed at how easily he could be read. Was he truly that obvious? “I would do anything to help her.”

“Ah, young love blooming even amidst tragedy and war. A poet couldn’t have written a better tale.”

Rolan buried his face in his hands, trying to ignore the dread rising in his mind and the heat in his cheeks.

“It’s an admirable thing to do. To try to help Juniper.” Gale placed his current book on the discard pile before taking a scroll. “I hope we find something, I truly do. I know of no one else who deserves to be happy more than her.”

Gale was being kind, especially when Rolan was the one acting like an ass. As usual. If Lia was here, she’d probably slap him in the back of the head for his brashness. “Yes, she does.”

He didn’t know what else to say so he fell silent, staring at the pages of the book but not reading a word. 

“You’re worried.”

Gale’s voice pulled his attention back. The wizard was watching him with a peculiar expression; not exactly pity, but something melancholic, perhaps with a bit of disappointment mixed in. Rolan felt sick, knowing that he was being selfish. Juniper wasn’t the only one suffering from the tadpole, from the Bhaalists and the Banites, from the goblin armies. She was a part of an entire group of people on the cusp of ceremorphosis and despite death lingering on the horizon, they all fought with everything they had to protect the people of Baldur’s Gate. To protect the Elturel refugees. 

To protect him.

“I am, but that doesn’t matter.” Rolan said with more confidence than he felt. “No, I must find a solution to the issue at hand.”

Gale didn’t respond when he buried his nose into the book again, instead focusing on his own research. Research that was probably futile, but while Juniper’s tadpole and transformation were halted, Rolan wasn’t going to rest until he found a cure.

The book described the changes of ceremorphosis in great detail: organs were reshaped, the tadpole consuming the brain until nothing was left but the worm itself, taking complete control of the host until there was nothing left of their former self. Then the rest of the painful transformation took place: tentacles, bodily changes that were nothing short of horrifying. To be a shell of the person she once was, with the memories of her past but none of the affection she’d felt for her loved ones.

A whimper left his mouth and he closed the book, unable to look at the horrid pictures any longer.

Gale peered at him over the top of his reading, raising his eyebrows in concern.

Choking back the panic, Rolan waved away the worry. His eyes searched for something else to occupy himself with. He couldn’t take the sad look that crossed the wizard’s face. “I’m alright. It’s a lot to take in.”

He wasn’t going to let that happen to her. Never.

The portal whirled hours later, the only warning he had before Cal led Juniper into the Tower, chatting excitedly about their new home and all of the things he’d found already. His voice echoed in the chamber-like space and Rolan had only just enough time to slam the book he’d been reading shut, hiding it beneath a pile of scrolls that he still hadn’t organized.

“Shit.”

Gale, sensing the sudden shift in his mood, let his own book slip between the armrest of his chair and his body, crossing his legs and readjusting his robes to hide the tome. It wasn’t going to be enough, he thought to himself as Juniper skipped down the small set of steps to where he was. They’d lost track of time, too engrossed in the things they found… and the things they hadn’t.

Rolan managed to get a few of the research scrolls stuffed into the desk drawer when Juniper paused long enough to give Gale a hug, leaning over to practically fall into the chair on top of him. He gritted his teeth as a sudden surge of jealousy hit him. Of all the things to be jealous about, this one stung the most. 

As she pulled away, Gale reached out to tap her cheek gently, tutting under his breath. “Can’t avoid it, can you?”

She laughed, but when she turned to face his direction, Rolan immediately noticed the dark bruise blossoming below her eye.

“Zurgan. What happened?” 

He crossed the space between them without thought, reaching out towards her face only to pause with his hand in midair, unsure if he should touch her or not. He didn’t have a clue how to do this, with her especially. 

“One of Shar’s worshippers got a spell past my defenses.” She slipped her hand into his, warm and reassuring and real. She was alright. She was alive. “Only one of us survived the encounter.”

That did little to ease the guilt that swam in his stomach, making him feel sick. “If Gale had been there-”

“I doubt there was much I could’ve done.” The wizard interjected, standing from his chair and stretching, a teasing glimmer in his eye as he regarded them. “Dear Juniper here does whatever she wants with little regard to her safety.”

Rolan glanced at her sharply, almost missing the grimace on her face before she hid it behind a grin. Of course, the first romantic feelings he’d had in years were for the incapable sorcerer masquerading as a carefree bard. The bard who tried to get herself killed daily. 

“It wasn’t my fault this time.” She said in an attempt at reassurance, but it did little to relax him. He was already on edge, the research on the Illithid and ceremorphosis was swirling around in his head, plaguing him with terrifying images of Juniper dying to leave a mindflayer in her place, nothing left of the woman he loved. 

Rolan, with his limited knowledge of the arcane arts, wouldn’t be able to stop this. He couldn’t protect her. Just like he couldn’t protect his siblings. Or himself, for that matter.

“Why don’t I believe that?” He snapped instead, the only defense he knew against the tumultuous feelings in his chest.

Gale cleared his throat awkwardly, a signal before he spoke, so as to not interrupt them. His eyes flitted between them in concern, but he hid it well behind a kind smile. “Well, I better head back to the Elfsong. Let you two catch up.”

Juniper turned to reach out for him and Rolan, again, felt a flash of jealousy at how easily she sought comfort from him. “Please, Gale. You don’t need to leave on my account. I know you’ve been wanting to read the books here.”

“You should go with him, Juniper.” Rolan heard himself say before realizing the words had left his mouth. “You’ve had a long day and I’m sure Gale would love to hear about what happened with the Sharrans.”

Juniper faced him again, face scrunched adorably in frustration. “Rolan, are you jealous of Gale?”

Gale coughed in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck in uncertainty. “I really need to leave now.”

Rolan realized Cal was still standing there, eyes wide as he glanced between the three of them. Great, not only did he look like a fool in front of the woman he cared for and the wizard she was friends with, a wizard of great renown no less, now his brother had witnessed his outburst.

Cal backed away, waving at Gale to follow. “I’ll see you out.”

The portal whooshed them away a moment later, leaving him and Juniper standing in front of each other, tense silence between them. After another minute or two, Juniper huffed and put her hands on her hips, looking annoyed beyond anything he’d witnessed before. His heart jumped in his chest briefly, the image in front of him adorable beyond words.

“Gale? Out of all of the people you could’ve picked-”

“Can you blame me for thinking such things? He’s more of a wizard than I’ll ever be. He understands you better than I do.”

“I mean, Shadowheart, maybe. Karlach, definitely. But Gale?”

“He can protect you when you need it. Something I’m incapable of doing for my own family, for myself. You deserve-” He paused, realizing what she’d been saying in her response. There was a time that she thought of someone else in the very way he thought of her. Of course she had. “You mean to tell me that you and Karlach-”

Her hands slid across his jaw, soft and unyielding, and she forced him to look at her. Terrified of what he might find when he met her gaze, he was surprised to find only joy.

“Rolan, what brought this on?”

“The tadpole.”

Her eyes widened slightly and he wanted to feel triumph at the surprise that flitted across her face, but all he felt was despair. Because he’d failed. 

“I had the stupid thought that maybe… the answer to the ceremorphosis was here. In the Tower. Lorroakan had all of this arcane knowledge at his fingertips and yet, never utilized it.”

“So you and Gale spent all this time looking? For a cure?” 

“We came up with nothing. Searched the library, Lorroakan’s notes. Even Tolna’s books were unhelpful.” His voice broke as the realization crashed down on him. No matter how hard he tried, he was still a failure, despite having the amount of resources he did. “I failed you.”

“You don’t have to save me, Rolan.” She glanced away, clearly uncomfortable with the thought. “You don’t owe me anything.”

Did she think that’s what this was? That he wanted to prove to her that he could save her after all the times she’d saved him? Or that he owed her for saving his life, which in a way, he supposed he did. But none of that mattered when the only expression on her face was sadness. And pity. 

For herself.

“By the Nine Hells.” He cursed, stepping close enough that she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze again. “You’re daft. And to think that Lia and Call call me an idiot!”

“That’s a bit uncalled for.”

With a frustrated grunt, he tried to keep his anger in check. Throwing his hands up, he stalked back to the bookshelf, eyes on a book that he could probably recite in his sleep with how many times he’d combed through it. For her. He was terrified of what losing her would do to him. Just the thought of it left him on edge.

“After everything we’ve been through, I thought you understood.”

His tail flicked wildly behind him. At this point, he wasn’t sure if it was from anger, frustration, or fear. All he did know was that he didn’t deserve her… or any of it really. Not the Tower, not his siblings, not Juniper. Certainly not with the way she was watching him.

Juniper stepped closer, ignoring his outburst. There was no fear, no hesitation, no doubt. What was it that made her so strong? So full of courage and kindheartedness, even when he was an ass?

“What are you saying? I need you to be honest, Rolan.” Juniper’s body was pressing into his, her proximity driving him to madness. Why couldn’t she understand this? Why did he need to spill his guts all over the pristine tower floors? 

“I… I’m saying…” The hurt in her eyes extinguished all frustration. How can he be upset with her when none of this was her fault in the first place? “I woke up this morning with you in my arms and thought perhaps… perhaps this could be more than stolen kisses and flirtation.” He brushed a hand against her cheek and she leaned into the touch, the tenderness of the movement nearly undoing him. “I don’t want to lose you, Juniper. Not to death and certainly not to the tadpole. I’ll do anything to keep you here.”

“I am here, Rolan.” Her fingers entwined with his and his heart nearly jumped out through his throat. “Please, the future is already so uncertain. I don’t want to waste time arguing about this.”

She was right, of course. It was such a stupid, useless argument, but it didn’t stop the fear, the unrelenting terror at the prospect of losing her before he ever really had her. Love was inconvenient, messy, dangerous and yet… he didn’t want to fight it any longer. If this was the only chance they had, he refused to spend a single moment wasting time. 

His tail wrapped around her leg as he moved closer, his free hand gripping her waist, shifting until they were chest to chest, her face tilted up towards his.

“Juniper, I-” Taking a deep breath through his nose, he attempted to grasp at his thoughts, his feelings, his desires. Anything that might help him explain this devastating ache in his chest whenever he gazed into her fiery blue eyes, knowing that it might be the last time he gazed at her, talked to her, touched her. There was never going to be a better time to say all of the things he wanted, that he wished for them. A future that might never happen. Releasing the breath in a rush, he closed the little distance left between them, lips fitting against hers as if they were meant to be there. Maybe they were, there was little that would surprise him nowadays.

She moaned into his mouth, hands brushing across his shoulders before tangling in his hair. The touch of her body against his was going to drive him to madness. And he would go willingly, gladly.

When she broke away, her lips hovering just out of reach of his own, she laughed breathlessly. “The kiss was wonderful, Rolan, but you haven’t explained anything-”

“I love you.”

Her mouth parted slightly, eyes wide at the confession. “You-”

“I love you, Juniper.” Her hand was warm as it slipped into his, the rough calluses of her thumb brushing against his knuckles, sending shivers through him. He didn’t know what the future held for them, not with the Elder Brain, or the Tower, or anything really, but he knew who he wanted to share it with.

Her lips curled into a grin and she tilted her head to the side, gazing at him with a curious look. “Are you sure you want to do that? I thought I was a poor excuse for a bard and an even poorer excuse for a sorcerer.”

He sighed, heart sinking into his stomach, guilt over his past words making him glance away from her probing gaze. “I am being serious and you are being… you.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“You are absurd. Infuriating.”

“Vexing sounds so much better.”

“I had an entire speech planned out, but everything about you is so…” He trailed off when she grabbed his face to stop his rant. “unpredictable.”

“I love you too, you idiot.” She muttered, shaking her head in fond frustration. 

“You… you do?” 

Juniper cut off any more questions with her lips and for the first time since arriving in Baldur’s Gate, he felt truly content. No, not content, happy. Because if the joy that filled him was any indication, Rolan was utterly euphoric. Slipping his arms around her waist, he knew it would take everything he had to let her go again. Maybe, for a moment, they could have this and ignore everything else.

#my writing #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 rolan #bg3 tav #tav x rolan #rolan x tav #tav: juniper #tiefling #bard tav #juniper x rolan #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 cal #bg3 lia

[fickleminder]

Commission done by the lovely @777xara! I even wrote a short fic to accompany this beautiful piece hehe 😊

Content warnings: suggestive content but nothing explicit

Sometime after midnight, when Satan finally dragged his feet back to the house, he’s surprised to see the lights still on under Kirana’s door on the way to his room.

“Love, are you awake?” He knocked on the wood gently, wanting to apologize in person for cancelling their date at the last minute. There had been an emergency in his Circle that warranted immediate attention, and while Kirana had been graciously understanding of the situation, he still felt bad knowing she’d been looking forward to spending some quality time together after a stressful week at RAD.

Satan’s tail twitched with anxiety as seconds passed without any response. Slightly concerned now, he cracked her door open and peeked inside, exhaling quietly in relief when he spotted her fast asleep in her bed.

His blue jacket was draped over her upper body, and there was a half-open book in her arms, the mystery novel he had lent her just a few days ago. It was clear she had decided to borrow his jacket to keep warm during the late hour and dozed off while reading.

“Silly girl, I thought I told you not to wait up for me.” Satan sighed fondly, padding towards her with silent steps. One hand reached down to stroke her hair and tuck a stray lock behind her ear. His gaze trailed from her peaceful expression towards the smooth slope of her neck, coming to rest at the top of her bare chest—

Realizing that Kirana wasn’t wearing anything underneath his favorite jacket, the demon suddenly felt as though his face was on fire, all the way to the tips of his horns. At least her bottom half was covered by the blankets, but Satan had a sneaking suspicion…

He lifted the sheets and immediately shoved them back down. Yup, Kirana had definitely been entertaining herself while staying up to wait for him. A part of Satan was somewhat miffed that he’d missed out on the fun, but then again, he was the one who’d left her high and dry tonight. If anything, those miscreants causing trouble in his Circle were to blame, forcing him away from his beloved’s side during her time of need.

Nevertheless, Satan was a gentleman if nothing else. He kept his eyes averted as he removed the jacket and pulled the blanket up to cover Kirana’s shoulders properly. After inserting a spare bookmark from the side table between the open pages and setting the novel aside, he tucked the jacket over her upper body again, making sure to envelop her in his scent as she slept.

“Goodnight love, I’ll catch you in the morning.” Satan pressed a chaste kiss to Kirana’s cheek and switched off the lights before leaving her room, hoping to see her in his dreams when he finally retired to his own bed for the night.

#writing #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me satan #obey me oc #artFM #commission

[berryhobii]

Down Bad(pjm x reader)

Pairing: fuckboy!Park Jimin x fuckgirl!black!female!reader

Word Count: 8.6K+

Warnings: Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), drinking, assault(throwing things at someone), mentions of objectifying women, mentions of STD tests(everyone’s clean), drinking alcohol(nothing explicit), kind of homie hopping but not really, mentions of previous partners, mentions of dom/sub relationships, reader’s low key a dom🫣, reader’s also bisexual😝, reader’s got that WAP and NyQuil 😺, talks of safe words(comfort and consent are sexy!), oral(m and f receiving), face sitting, unprotected sex(wrap it please), multiple orgasms(m receiving, mentions of f receiving), reverse cowgirl

A/N: Hi babies! I’m back! I recently started a new job so I’ve been kind of focused on that but I’m pretty much finished with a lot of my works. All I have to do his proofread some things and I’ll upload a few things at once. In this work, I described reader as dark skinned. Reader also has a 36 inch buss down middle part😝😝i always see so many stories of the men being hit ‘em and quit them types so I thought it’d be refreshing to make the reader like that instead. This is my first time writing a character like this so I hope you enjoy. Please tell me what you think. This will have a Part 2 as well! I hope you like this. Criticism is greatly appreciated! Stay safe🩵🩵🩵

~

Yawns and whines sounded from his bed, the body that’s been warming it for the past few hours finally rising from the post coital sleep caused by multiple rounds of intense and rough sex.

The sun wasn’t even up yet, the moon still shining overhead.

“Oh you’re awake?” A voice asked.

The woman’s sleep fuzzed eyes blinked a few times to clear her blurry vision, sights settling on the lean back of the man who just rocked her world hours before.

She sleepily smiled, lifting her tired body from the mattress. The blankets fell, revealing her naked body which had been littered with marks and bruises from his mouth and hands.

Draping her arms over his shoulders, she pressed a few kisses to his shoulder. “It’s still dark out. Why are you awake?”

His head turned slightly to look at her. She was pretty, not really his type but easy on the eyes. Now with messy hair and her makeup smudged, he was starting to think she was only really pretty when done up.

“I never went to sleep.”

Her warm cheek rubbed against his skin before she lulled in low and suggestive tone, “Ready for another round?”

He scoffed a laugh, shaking himself from her hold and standing to his feet. “Nah but your Uber is less than 5 minutes away. You better get dressed.”

Her mouth dropped in shock, sputtering out a, “w-what? What are you talking about?”

He picked her dress and underwear up off the ground before tossing them on the bed.

“I meant what I said. Beat it. I have to go to sleep before work later.” He quipped dismissively with a yawn.

Her hands gathered up the blankets, holding them to her chest, hot shame and embarrassment burning at her cheeks. Whereas his gaze initially made her feel sexy and wanted, now his sharp eyes just made her feel dirty and used. Like some $2 whore.

“But….”

He rolled his eyes, already growing irritated. His phone chimed and he held it up, seeing the Uber was just a minute away.

“Come on. Your Uber is about to pull up. I didn’t know where your house was so I just put in the bar where we met. Is that cool?”

Suddenly, a pillow whacked him in the face with enough force that it actually made him stumble back. Wait a second……what did she say her dad did? Huh, he could barely remember her name, much less what she was talking about in the bar. Truthfully, he didn’t talk her up much before getting her to come home with him. She was easier than most.

He didn’t have too much time to dwell on it before multiple projectiles were firing at him.

“Hey! Hey! Stop!”

He held up his arms to protect his head, sucking and dodging all of the things she flung at him. It didn’t do much, however, since almost every item was hitting him. Damn she had good aim.

“You asshole! You fuck me and then put me out?! Did your mother not teach you any fucking manners?!” Gratefully, she ran out of things to throw.

He huffed, rubbing his side where his fake potted plant had hit him. “You’re insane. Look at how you trashed my room.”

She growled as she pulled her clothes on, grabbing her phone and purse before stomping out in a huff.

“Screw you, Park Jimin! I hope your dick falls off!” She spat in disgust, slamming his door hard enough to shake the walls.

Pfft, whatever.

Park Jimin was a certified womanizer and connoisseur of the primal pleasures. His body count was probably higher than college kids on 4/20. To some, that might seem gross and irresponsible. Who can have that much sex with that many people? And to that, Jimin said ‘be jealous’. Jimin prided himself on safe and consensual sex at all times. Well, there were a few women who he’s braved unprotected for but he always made sure they were clean and got them Plan B’s afterwards!

To ensure no strings attached sex, Jimin had 3 main rules he followed.

1. Never go over the woman’s house.

2. Never sleep over

3. Never sleep with someone twice

These 3 rules are what kept Jimin a well oiled machine. It’s also what kept girls from getting too attached and sending mixed messages. He wasn’t looking for any kind of relationship or anything long term; just sex and that’s it.

And he planned on keeping it that way.

~

Jimin flopped down on his friend’s couch, groaning from his still aching side. A light bruise had already purpled there but thankfully nothing was broken.

He sluggishly pushed himself through work, those pain patches doing nothing to alleviate his pain.

“Fuck, my side is killing me.”

“I will never understand why you treat women like that. Didn’t another girl post your STD results on Instagram a few years ago?” His best friend since childhood, Taehyung remembered.

Ah yes, that incident.

To sum it up, a girl he slept with some years back had requested his STD results. Normal enough, right? Safety first and whatnot. After hitting it and quitting it, he thought he’d never see the girl again. Everything was quiet until he was tagged in a post showing his results along with a lengthy caption calling him a pig and multiple variations of the word ‘slut’ that he’s never even heard of.

And if that wasn’t bad, almost every woman he’s slept with spawned under that post like white girls to pumpkin spice. Fortunately, it didn’t go viral(673 comments doesn’t count, right?) and Jimin sort of forgot about it.

From that moment on, he never gave out any of his contact information and he kept his STD results in his wallet. So far, everything’s been going well.

Well, until last night.

“It’s fine. She got in the Uber and hopefully she got home okay.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in shock. “You didn’t get her an Uber home? At 3AM? Do you know how dangerous that is?” He gasped, following in the woman’s footsteps and throwing a pillow at Jimin but with not nearly as much force.

Jimin blocked the pillow before continuing, “I’d rather not know where she stays so I can avoid ever walking by. She had the arm of a baseball player.” Suddenly it clicked! Jimin snapped his fingers in jubilation, memory coming back. “That’s it! Her father’s a baseball player. That’s what she said.”

Taehyung slapped his forehead dramatically. “You’re ridiculous. You know, one day you’re gonna meet someone who will give you your just desserts.”

The middle finger was thrown up in Taehyung’s direction.

As if that would ever happen.

~

Jimin’s pain had faded by the weekend which meant it was time to party!

If only he had a party to attend. He was avoiding his favorite bar—not out of fear of seeing that strong armed girl again! Of course not!

So he decided to tag along with Jungkook and Jungkook’s college friends to another bar. He also convinced Taehyung to take a break from being a moody misunderstood artist.

Drinks were flowing and the sweet tail in this bar was catching Jimin’s eye. He could already spot at least 4 women that fit his standards. If everything went well, he’d be out of the bar and on his way home with someone on his arm within an hour.

“Let’s get some shots.” Jungkook offered to which the others nodded in agreement. While he turned to do that, Jimin started surveying the bar again. Taehyung must have noticed because he nudged him.

“You’re not thinking of which girl to take home, are you? Did you not learn from that baseball player’s daughter?” Taehyung sighed exasperated. He loved Jimin but goodness he could be an idiot. The shots arrived at that time and Jimin downed his. He didn’t really need liquid courage to loosen him up but it still helped.

Jimin shrugged his shoulder. “Stop worrying so much. Bathroom quickies are my specialty.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, muttering, “but somehow learning from your mistakes isn’t.”

Ignoring the jab, Jimin resumed his scan of the bar, making eye contact with a pretty girl across the way. Her eyes widened at being caught, quickly averting her gaze and looking at her drink as if it was the most interesting thing ever.

He smirked. Perfect. Shy ones are always the best.

Just as he was about to move to approach her, she was tapped on the shoulder by another girl by her side. They moved away from their spot on the bar and Jimin was met with a sight so mouth watering that he had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

A woman was leaned over the bar counter, thick glossed lips sucking at a straw in a fruity colored drink. His eyes followed the curve of your back, over the swell of your ass in that dress—thick luscious legs that looked miles long in your strappy platforms and white toenail polish! Your hair was long and dark, falling over your back like an onyx curtain.

Damn. You were sexy as hell.

“Hey look, it’s Yoongi hyung.” Jungkook noticed, pointing in the direction of their friend.

Jimin and the others watched as Yoongi crossed the bar……straight to you.

Yoongi leaned against the bar next to you, your eyes sparkling at the sight of a familiar face.

It’s moments like these Jimin wishes he could read lips. What were you two talking about? Did Yoongi know you personally or was this your first time meeting him? If Yoongi did know you, were you two just friends or currently on the pathway to dating? Contrary to his demeanor and face, Yoongi was actually very social and made friends easily. He was also just as smooth as Jimin when it came to bringing people home. Would Yoongi get you first?

After stalking watching you for a while longer, you two seemed to bid each other farewell before Yoongi walked away.

Jungkook held up his hand to catch his attention. “Yoongi hyung! Over here!”

The cat like man’s gaze flickered over to the small group, a little smile on his face as he approached.

Once he got close enough, he greeted everyone with waves and bro hugs. “What’s up? I didn’t know you guys would be here tonight.”

Jungkook nodded. “There’s a deal on Long Islands. What are you doing here? Normally college kids come to this bar.”

Yoongi’s eyes scanned the crowd. “I’m Hoseok and Seokjin’s designated driver. Some girl Hoseok’s dating goes here.” He informed with a shrug.

Ah. That made sense. Hoseok was kind of a stuck drunk and while Seokjin was a good drinker, he still didn’t like driving under the influence. And Uber’s were off the table as well.

“Me? Get in a stranger’s car? Preposterous.”

So that left Yoongi as designated driver.

But enough about their wacky friends. Jimin had bigger things to worry about, like your ass.

“Hyung, who is that girl you were just talking to?”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, turning for a moment to look at you before facing Jimin again.

“Oh, y/n? She’s a student here. She’s getting her Master’s.” Yoongi answered.

Jimin hummed. “And are you two…..?” He trailed off, gesticulating his hands in a weird way.

Yoongi frowned. “Are we what?”

“He wants to know if you two are together before he goes and tries to fuck her.” Taehyung finished for them since he couldn’t bear this dumb game. “Please tell me she does professional kickboxing.”

Jimin pushed his catty friend. “Stop it.”

Yoongi’s mouth opened in a little ‘ah’. “No, nothing like that. y/n doesn’t date. Trust me, I tried.” He sighed, a little dreamily and defeated.

That was interesting. Not really that you rejected Yoongi but the fact that you didn’t date. It honestly shocked Jimin a little. You were smoking hot. How could someone like you not have a partner? Did you have a bad personality? Were you clingy? Were you just hot but also dumb? Hmm.

Eh. He didn’t care too much about that. You were single and attractive. That was good enough for him.

Fixing his hair and straightening his leather jacket, he was about to take a step but Yoongi’s hand on his chest stopped him.

“Hold up, man. I wouldn’t go after her.”

Jimin scoffed. “And why not? Just because you can’t get her doesn’t mean I can’t.”

The incredibly petty part of Yoongi wanted to just let Jimin go but he couldn’t, in good conscience, just let Jimin approach you unprepared.

“That’s not what I meant. I’ve never dated y/n but I have slept with her before.”

Wow, that was information he wasn’t ready for. Even Taehyung and Jungkook made noises of surprise.

“And what? Is she not good? Does she smell?” Jimin questioned, concern actually starting to eat at his tummy. Call him shallow and uneducated but Jimin didn’t venture near any pussy that didn’t appeal to his sensitive nose and delicate pallet. Perhaps you were just eye candy. Well, a blowjob would still count as a successful endeavor.

Yoongi shook his head. “No, of course not. The thing is, she’s the best I’ve ever had and I’m not joking. Like she’s so good that I still think about it and it happened over a year ago.”

“Pfft. That’s it? Whatever, hyung.” Jimin shook Yoongi’s hand off before strutting his way over to you.

Yoongi sighed dejectedly. “He has no idea what he’s walking into.”

You were about ready to wrap up your night. You really just came out for a drink and to spend time with your friends but they had left a little while ago to definitely have a foursome with these 2 guys. They asked if you wanted to join but you didn’t think you were that comfortable seeing your best friend’s vaginas. Well, willingly. You were a girl’s girl through and through but not like that.

Just as you sucked down the last of your drink, a presence settled on your side. At first you thought it was just another patron trying to get a drink but then a sugar sweet voice floated over into your ears.

“Can I buy you another drink?”

You looked to your right, finding a very handsome man leaning against the counter. He was very handsome but also pretty in a kind of graceful way. He wasn’t the type you often went after but you didn’t discriminate.

You leaned your cheek against the back of your hand. “I don’t accept drinks from strangers.” You disclosed.

Jimin felt his eyebrow twitch slightly but he couldn’t deny the slight rush your nonchalant tone gave him. You wouldn’t be easy and he liked it.

He sniffed. “You accepted one from the bartender. He’s a stranger.” He fired back matter of factly.

Ah, you could see now. He wasn’t the type to back down. Interesting. Maybe you would play along.

Your smirk sent a shiver down his spine. “He’s not a stranger. I know him inside and out.”

At that moment, the bartender came over to retrieve your empty glass. When you met his eyes, a red blush painted his skin from his cheeks to his neck.

Reaching into your purse, you pulled out a bill to tip him. “Thanks, baby. It was delicious.” You complimented, a sultry tone in your voice that spread that blush even further.

He shyly smiled, eyes flickering around. “Y-you’re welcome….” He grabbed your glass and you took the opportunity to run the tips of your stiletto nails up the back of his hand. He shivered at the touch, almost dropping the glass but managing to keep it from falling. He bowed at you, thanking you for the tip before scurrying over to the other side of the bar to tend to other customers.

Jimin’s jaw had yet to return to its original state. There was no way he just witnessed that. It’s obvious that you and that bartender had something going on; something crazy judging by how almost submissive the man acted just by being in your presence.

Was Yoongi right about you?

You flickered your eyes over to the new stranger, reaching out to tap at his chin.

“Your jaw will ache if you do that. Or do you like that sort of thing?”

Jimin snapped his mouth shut, your chuckle bringing heat to the tips of his ears but he forced it down.

“Oh so is the bartender your boyfriend or something?” He tried to passively ask but you could see right through him.

“Nope. I don’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. I used to though.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You used to have a boyfriend?”

You shook your head. “Nope, a girlfriend but we had to go our separate ways. She had a great rack too.” You reminisced with a sigh.

Were you fucking for real? Jimin didn’t give a damn about your ex girlfriend but he’d be lying if he said you hinting at being bisexual wasn’t sexy as hell.

He cleared his throat. “Well uh, I’m Jimin.”

You hummed but didn’t make a move to introduce yourself and that kind of pissed him off.

“Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?”

You swept your hair over your back, the scent of your perfume and whatever else you used in your hair invading his senses.

“Do I need to?” You drawled sassily.

He swallowed. Fuck you were pissing him off.

Luckily for him, Yoongi already told him your name so ha!

“I guess not, y/n.” He smirked.

You tilted your head. Ha! Gotcha! You weren’t so clever!

Then you smiled and it sent Jimin’s stomach in a whirl.

Your eyes sparkled with mischief. Jimin was very amusing to you. You couldn’t wait to break him.

You leaned closer to him, so close that your lips were almost touching. His breath got caught in his throat, eyes flickering back and forth between your irises.

What was this feeling? Jimin hasn’t felt like this sense his last big audition. His stomach was turning, nausea bringing that last drink he had right to the base of his throat, and his palms felt like all the water in his body had populated to his hands.

“That was cute.” Your eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips. “But it doesn’t matter if you know my name or not….”

Don’t ask why. Don’t ask why.

“Why?”

You smirked, hand lifting to ghost over the side of his throat, your nails scratched lightly over his pulse point. He thickly swallowed, throat feeling tight and dry all of a sudden.

“Because your mouth will be too preoccupied.”

Damn. You were good. Too good.

While he was mimicking a fish out of water, you dug around your purse for your keys before saying, “let’s get out of here. Do you need to tell your friends where you’re going?”

It took him a second to process what you had said but when he did, he shook his head.

“No. Why would I need to tell them?”

You shrugged. “Just to be safe. If something happens or they need you, they should know.”

He raised an eyebrow in a suspicious look. “Are you gonna rob me or something?”

You chuckled but he didn’t find anything amusing. “Of course not. Let’s just go then.”

~

Rule Number 1 was broken the moment he step foot in your apartment.

Similar to your outward appearance, your apartment was very cool and modern; cool tones of gray and blues complimented one another across all of your furniture and decorations.

You noticed how he was looking around at everything. “Did you want a tour?”

He flinched a little at you speaking. “No. We can just go to the bedroom.”

You eyed him for a brief moment but shrugged your shoulder and led him down the hall to your bedroom.

You didn’t turn on the lights when you entered your bedroom, instead traversing through the dark to find the remote to your LED lights. The room lit up in a bright purple, enough so that he could see clearly but it wasn’t overwhelming to ruin the mood.

He didn’t take time to look around this time, moving to remove his jacket and lay it across your vanity stool. You had taken a seat on the bed, hands working to untie the strings of your platforms.

“So, should we talk about boundaries and safe words?”

You were really making his brain buffer, like bad wifi connection.

“Safe words? Isn’t that only for like extreme stuff? Like BDSM?”

You were also constantly pissing him off with those little mocking chuckles.

“Normally yes but safe words are really just to gauge comfort and discomfort so if either of us don’t like something, we can have an easy way of communicating.” You explained simply, tossing your shoes to the side and working on the strings that held your dress together on either side.

The way you spoke so simply and confidently caused yet another weird feeling to flutter in Jimin’s chest. That was happening often with you.

“Uh….I don’t think that’s necessary.”

You paused in your disrobing(damn it) to look up at him. “Are you sure? The color system is pretty simple. This is our first sleeping together so we should both be comfortable.”

He’s never had to think about stuff like that before. This was just a one night stand. Why were you so worried about comfort and safe words? He just wanted to get his nut and go.

Holding in an aggravated sigh, he nodded. “Sure. Color system. Red, yellow, green. Perfect.”

If you noticed his tone, you didn’t say anything. Instead finally finally removing your dress and Jimin got to witness the glory that was your body and hot damn.

From your mocha dusted nipples to the intricate tattoo that rested just between your breasts, all the way down your meaty thighs and your clothed pussy that was barely covered by the thong you wore.

“Come here.” You beckoned with a finger. “Lie down.”

Your voice seemed to control his body, his feet moving forward to sit on the bed next to you. Immediately, you were in his space, climbing on top of him to push him down on the mattress.

Your hair fell forward over your shoulder, falling into his face, tickling his nose and getting in his mouth.

You giggled at his sputtering. “Sorry. Hold on.” You reached over to your nightstand to grab a large claw clip to get your hair out of your face.

With that done, you leaned down to capture his pillowy lips in a kiss. Honestly, you’ve been waiting to kiss him since he approached you at the bar. Something about those Bratz doll lips were so appetizing.

And they didn’t disappoint.

Jimin’s hands gravitated to your ass, gripping two handfuls and god bless, it was just as amazing as he imagined.

Your lips worked in tandem against one another. Jimin was caught up in the wonderful globes of fat blessing his palms, hands pushing you to start humping against his straining erection. You sighed as your clit bumped against the zipper cover of his jeans.

You tilted your head more to deepen the kiss, his mouth opening to let your tongues meet. He hummed at the taste of the fruity alcohol and the minty gum you chewed in the car.

Licking at his tongue, you sucked it between your lips, surprisingly pulling a moan from Jimin. Noted.

It honestly shocked him as well. He’s never felt this turned on just from a little kissing and dry humping. Hell, he hardly kissed any of his sexual partners. Maybe a little here and there but never full on making out like he was doing now.

And he hated to say it but he wanted more.

You must have noticed how he relaxed into the kiss because you pulled away to get a good look at his face—ears tipped red and puffs of breath coming from his plump lips that were shiny with your gloss.

“Do you want to tell me a color?”

Ah that. He almost forgot but he guessed he’d entertain it. “Green I guess.”

You hummed a “good”, pecking his lips once more before moving to his throat. Your hands went to start on the buttons of his shirt as you nipped and sucked at his pulse point. He stifled another moan when you bit the skin at his collarbone, trailing down to kiss over his chest.

He thought you were about to go straight for his cock, only to be shocked when he felt your tongue run over his nipple.

He jumped at the sensation, head craning to look down at you. “W-what are you doing?”

Your eyes glanced up at him. “Oh sorry. Do you not like your nipples touched?” You sounded honestly apologetic.

He felt weird. That felt weird but not necessarily bad. Fuck, what was happening to him?

“It’s just weird.” He simply said.

“Okay. I won’t do it again. Thanks for being honest.” There’s that feeling again.

Moving past his chest, you worked on his belt and the button of his jeans. He helped you get them down his legs, also removing his shirt in the process.

Once he was lying back down, you got comfortable between his legs. You kissed around his belly button, his abs contracting from the ticklish feeling. Gripping the band of his briefs, you pulled them down and off his legs, his cock jumping out and slapping against his tummy.

He sighed when your warm palm encased his throbbing erection, shivering as your breath puffed over his slick cockhead.

“Ready?” You asked.

He scoffed. Why did you ask him like that? Like a warning almost.

There was that smirk again. You were gonna enjoy this.

Kissing his tip, you licked a wide stripes up his shaft, going all around the circumference of his cock with your sinful tongue. His leg twitched a little at your calculated ministrations, suddenly feeling hot all over despite you just starting.

Once you deemed him licked enough, you took his tip into your mouth, gathering saliva in your mouth to drip down his cock. With that extra lubrication, you began pumping his shaft, tandem sucking at his tip. His hips buck up involuntarily, wanting to feel more of your warm mouth around him.

Your eyes were focused on his face, always watching to make sure he was comfortable but also, you loved seeing his reaction. His own eyes were squeezed shut, hands balled up at his side and lip pulled between his teeth hard enough to bleed.

Mmm. Easy work. Time to up the ante.

Jimin felt your mouth come off of him, the cold air brushing over his spit slicked cock. He let out a breath but that was short lived because all of a sudden, both of your hands were gripping his cock.

He barely had time to lift his head before it was crashing back against your pillows because you started going absolutely ballistic.

Both hands began twisting and squeezing at his shaft, your mouth back on his tip creating an air tight vacuum seal. As your hands moved, your head bobbed up and down on what your hands couldn’t reach.

Jimin’s back arched hard enough to hurt, mouth dropping open in a silent scream. You were like a woman possessed, not even the Warren’s would be able to cleanse you. Loud slurping and sucking noises bounced off the walls, filling his ears and spurring him towards an orgasm faster than it takes Azaelia Banks to embarrass herself.

If your mouth wasn’t full of cock, you would have smirked from his reaction. He couldn’t stop moving, knees lifting and falling back against the bed and bumping into you a few times, head restlessly tossing side to side against the pillows. His face and chest were flushed red, chest rising and falling as he struggled to breathe.

“Oh my god….” He breathed out, feeling closer to orgasm than ever.

Your hands moved from around his shaft and suddenly, you were taking him all the way down your throat, deep throating him like a god damn python. His hips bucked up again but your wet hands rested on either side of his pelvis to hold him down. You bobbed your head faster, sucking on every upstroke and laving your tongue against the vein that pulsed on the underside of his cock.

Jimin doesn’t think he’s ever felt so good in his life, especially not off head alone. It was like every nerve ending in his body was focused in his cock, your hot mouth pulling noises from him that he didn’t even know he could make.

Who the fuck were you? Who was he?

He was about to cum. He could feel it stirring and building in his lower belly, hotter than fire and ready to burst like a volcano.

Then you gripped his balls in one of your hands and gave them a light squeeze and the pearly gates were right there.

He let out a gasp, hands moving to try and stop you. He didn’t want to cum that fast and definitely not first. He always got the woman off first, at least twice before he finally came. And even that could take a while but you were about to wrench an orgasm from him in minutes. There was no way.

“W-w-wait….ah….I’m….” He stuttered, vocabulary suddenly becoming limited as his orgasm rose.

You could feel his cock throb in your mouth, balls drawing up in your palm. Taking him down your throat once again, his trimmed pubic hairs tickling your nose, you massaged his balls as if trying to force them to give you his cum.

Jimin’s brain struggled to remember that stupid safe word. He needed you to stop before the worst happened.

Alas, two harsh sucks and one more squeeze of his balls and he was ascending.

A moan so loud and drawn out that he didn’t even believe it was him came from his throat. Hot splashes of cum hit the back of your throat and you swallowed it down greedily.

Sensitivity began to prickle at Jimin’s spine and cock as you continued to fondle and suck at him.

“Yellow yellow yellow.” He gasped out and you immediately backed away.

He slumped against the mattress, inhaling deep breaths and trying to calm his racing heart. Tiredness began pulling at his eyelids and he felt like he could fall asleep at any moment but then a weight settled on his chest.

He cracked open his bleary eyes, not expecting to find your glistening folds just inches from his face. When did you remove your panties? Despite just emptying his balls, he could feel his cock twitch. Damn, could you not?

He looked up to see your sultry eyes staring down at him. He gulped down a block in his throat. He was not expecting this.

“I’ll acknowledge your refractory period but just because your cock is down for the count right now doesn’t mean your mouth is.”

He was speechless. He’s never had a woman so shamelessly put her pussy right in his face and practically demand he eat her out.

You must have taken his dropped open mouth as an invite to scoot forward to place your pussy right in his face.

The initial shock had worn off the moment your wet pussy touched his lips. Like muscle memory, he latched onto your clit, hollowing his cheeks to suck on the nub. You hummed at finally getting some relief. Seeing Jimin’s pleasured face had gotten you excited quicker than usual.

You were itching to finally break him down, to stake your claim and inject yourself into his bloodstream until he couldn’t think about anyone else but you.

Shouldn’t be too hard judging by how frantically he was slurping and licking at your clit like it was his first meal in ages.

You rocked your hips against his face, melting into the feeling. His tongue flicked expertly over your clit, plush lips sucking in intervals in a slightly amateur and sloppy way but thankfully, you liked it. You thought it was cute. And you weren’t really picky when it came to oral, clit stimulation was more than enough.

“Hold your tongue out.” You ordered and of course, he followed. You rocked your clit against the rough texture of his tongue, hums and sighs of pleasure passing your lips.

Jimin lifted his hands to grab at your ass, pushing you against his tongue a little faster. This wasn’t a competition(as far as you were concerned) and no, Jimin wasn’t trying his hardest right now to prove a point! He was just being an equal partner in this. He got off so you should too! Yeah, that made sense.

You threaded your fingers through his soft hair, holding him still as you used his tongue to get off. Using your other hand to tweak at your own nipples, you fluttered your eyes shut as you relaxed and let yourself be taken away by his tongue.

Jimin let you take control(as if you ever gave it up) but after a little bit, he took it upon himself to worm one of his hands under you to start prodding at your leaking hole. You could feel his fingers, a smirk that he couldn’t see twitching at your lips.

One finger sunk past your opening, your walls clenching around the digit. His cock twitched again, imagining how tight you’d be around it. Fuck that refractory period. He was ready to go now.

He felt around your walls until he pressed against that rough patch inside of you. He noticed you didn’t really react so he pressed a little bit harder, feeling a little rush when your hips jumped. Ah, you like it rough, huh?

Slipping another finger inside, he hooked them right into that spot again. Your mouth dropped and a light moan escaped your lips. He also wrapped his lips around your clit again and harshly sucked at it, pulling a slightly louder noise from you.

You were kind of expecting this but you also weren’t. With other partners you had, it normally took some coaching and adjusting for them to know how you liked it but he seemed to be knowledgeable.

How cute.

Gripping his hair tighter, you bounced up and down on his fingers, his lips slurping at your clit in tandem.

“Mhm….yes. Just like that. I’m almost there.” You moaned. That pressure was building higher and higher until you were right on the edge.

Jimin closed his eyes, curling his fingers everytime you bounced, sucking your clit like a man starved. He wanted to see you cum, see you fall apart for him.

He needed to see it.

Jimin moaned against your clit, the vibrations sending sparks up your back, your own moan rivaling his.

“‘M gonna cum. Harder.” You said breathless.

Jimin hated how much you bossed him around but he couldn’t care much about that. Instead, he thrusted his fingers in and out of your wet cunt faster, your arousal dripping down his palm and wrist. He was spurred on by the wet and sloppy noises that your cunt made, his cock hardening incredibly fast.

With a final suck and one more curl of his fingers, you were releasing all over his face. Your walls clenched around his fingers, your thighs smothering his head as your body locked up.

Jimin licked at your clit until you were shivering in sensitivity, your hips moving back until you were sitting back on his chest. Jimin stretched out his arm that was aching from your previous position, flexing his hand a few times.

You leaned back to rest your palms on his thighs, tilting your head back as you tried to catch your breath.

Jimin’s dark and sharp eyes trailed down your body—glistening dark skin covered in sweat, your gorgeous breasts and nipples heaving with every breath, dark stretch marks painting the insides of your thighs.

Damn, you were a picture of sin and he wanted to sink his teeth into you.

“Tapping out? I’ll acknowledge your refractory period.” He teased.

You dropped your chin forward to stare at him, a cute smile on your face. Scooting back so that you were straddling him again, you leaned down to kiss his lips. With this position, you could rub your slick folds up and down his cock. He groaned at the feeling. He could only imagine how you’d feel wrapped around him.

Pulling away from his lips, you asked, “did you bring condoms? I have some if you didn’t. What size are you?”

Yes he brought condoms but why the hell did you have them?

“Uh….yeah. I’m normally a medium.”

That made you snort. “Normally? That’s a weird way to phrase it.” Reaching over to your nightstand, you pulled open a drawer to dig around for the right size.

Now that you mentioned condoms, he started thinking.

Did you really need one? You both disclosed your health in the car already.

(“You carry your STD results in your wallet? Do you have a lot of sex or something?”

“I like being prepared.”

“What a coincidence. Check the glove compartment.”)

His pull out game was definitely top tier and he didn’t want any kids anytime soon so that wasn’t really an issue. Obviously he wouldn’t say no if you really wanted to use one but your pussy felt so wet and warm around his fingers….

He wanted to feel it with no restrictions.

“Do we….”

You pulled the condom out, sitting back up on his lap. Your eyebrows raised, acknowledging that he wanted to speak.

“Yeah?”

He pulled his lip between his teeth. Why was he hesitating? He’s never felt nervous about asking for what he wanted during sex so why was his tongue getting tied now?

You could almost see the gears turning in his head. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he wanted but you wanted to hear him say it.

“Yes?” You pushed.

He lifted his eyes to meet yours, your irises swirling with amusement. You were really…..

Sighing, he forced out, “do we have to use one?”

There we go. You smiled, shrugging one shoulder. “Not if you don’t want to.” You tossed the foil wrapper to the side like a discarded piece of gum.

How many times had you completely baffled him? Like 7? 8? 54? You were just continuing to defy every expectation and standard he’s had in previous sexual escapades. First you give him body ascending head, then you sit on his face, and now you were agreeing to raw sex? Was he dreaming? No, right?

He was broken from his thousandth moment of self contemplation by you moving. You turned around in his lap, your juicy ass on display to him. At that moment, he took notice of the two shiny piercings nestling just at the base of your spine.

You were gonna kill him.

He hissed when your warm palm wrapped around his hard cock, pumping it a few times, aided by the arousal you rubbed over him a bit ago.

“Ready?” You asked him for the second time and a small part of him wanted to say no. Your head game was already crazy. What the hell was your riding game like?

Too late to go back now because you were lining up the head of his cock with your hole and sitting down on it. He held his breath once your hot and tight walls began sucking him in, each inch feeling like a mile as you lowered yourself down.

He released the breath once you were seated all the way on his lap. He already felt ready to cum again and you haven’t even done anything yet. Your pussy was wetter than before and your squishy walls were holding his cock hostage like a bank robber.

You sighed at the stretch. He definitely had girth, which you preferred over length but he was still long enough to reach your spots. Perfect.

Adjusting yourself on your knees, you have a few test movements. Not really bounces but just moving back and forth to get both of you adjusted.

Jimin already couldn’t handle it, his head falling back against the pillows. He reached out his hands to rest on your ass and you took that as a sign of him being ready for the real action.

Perching both hands on his knees, you got on your feet and started bouncing on his cock. He choked out a surprisingly loud moan, fingers digging into your ass and head lifting again to watch you go crazy. Your ass rippled and jiggled every time you met his pelvis, your slick soaking his cock and walls hugging him on every upward stroke.

The clapping of your ass sounded like damn gunshots as it ricocheted off his pelvis, the force of your bounces shaking your bed and scrambling his brain.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t talk. All he could manage was groans and uncharacteristic squeaks whenever your walls squeezed around him. You were pulling noises out of him he didn’t even know he was capable of making.

“Ah fuck!” He strained, sweat causing his bangs and hair at the back of his neck to stick uncomfortably to his skin.

You hummed, your claw clip starting to slip a little. “Your cock feels so good. It’s gonna make me cum.” You were starting to get a little winded from bouncing on your feet so you moved to your knees, still bouncing your ass up and down at the same pace.

His ears sounded like they were underwater so he didn’t hear a damn thing you said, too focused on watching how your hole stretched around his cock.

“Shit, s-slow down.” He begged but since you didn’t hear any of the traffic light colors, you kept going.

He was about to cum! Hard! Very hard!

You could feel his cock throbbing inside of you, saw how his toes curled and felt how hard he was gripping your ass cheeks.

Licking your lips, you urged him, “Give it to me, baby. Cum in my tight pussy.” Balancing back on your feet, your hands going to your knees, you rode his cock harder than before. He thought you were about to break his pelvis but he’d sit in the hospital in a full body cast any day of the week.

“Fuck fuck fuck! Oh shit!” He cursed. A few more bounces and he was releasing inside your warm cunt. His ears rang and his vision blurred as the second hardest orgasm of his life rammed into him. You continued to ride him, milking him of every drop that he had.

His whole body was on fire, his throat tight and dry, heart hammering in his chest.

Sensitivity didn’t have time to settle in because he felt ready to cum again but it felt painful almost. Not necessarily in a bad way though. A part of him didn’t want you to stop.

And you didn’t.

Turning in his lap with his cock still inside(what the hell), you pushed his sweaty bangs back from his forehead—taking in his red cheeks and kiss swollen lips.

He was so cute. Cute enough to bite and you did. He flinched a little at the feeling of your teeth on his cheek.

“You’re not tapping out, are you?” You kissed across his jawline and chin. “You’re still so hard and I haven’t cum yet.”

He wasn’t going to make it out alive.

~

Jimin rose to the smell of a sweet perfume and clean laundry detergent. He groaned as he stretched his body, the soft sheets feeling amazing against his skin. His muscles and bones popped as he tried to alleviate some of the tension from sleeping.

He blinked away the haze of sleep, lifting his head to get a gauge of his surroundings then it all started rushing back to him.

The bar. Coming back to your place. The mind blowing sex.

You.

He slowly sat up, running his hand through his hair. He looked around the room, finding nothing out of the ordinary. He noticed his clothes from yesterday folded and placed near the foot of the bed.

Did you do that? Where were you?

He found his phone on your nightstand, plugged into a charger. He removed it and turned it on, finding a few messages from his friends asking if he was safe and one of his coworkers asking to switch a shift.

He texted Taehyung back, letting him know he was okay and to his coworker to agree to the shift change.

As he was in his phone, he heard the sound of footsteps entering the room. He looked up, finding you walking into the bedroom, a robe wrapped around you and your hair hidden under a bonnet.

“Oh. You’re awake. Good morning.”

Morning? It was morning? He didn’t even notice the time.

10:21AM

What the hell? He’s never slept in that late after a one night stand. He’s never slept over at all.

Rule Number 2. Broken.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Morning.”

You walked over to your dresser to shuffle through some undergarments to wear. “I made some coffee if you want some.”

He hated coffee.

“No thanks.”

He tossed the blankets off his naked body, standing on wobbly legs. He glanced back over at you to see if you noticed but you were busy pulling panties up your legs. At the motion, he caught a glimpse of your perfect ass. He swallowed down a block in his throat.

No Jimin! You’ve already broken two rules! Don’t lose resolve, he thought.

As he slipped his clothes on, he couldn’t help but feel a little strange. Why did this feel so familiar?

You turned to him once you were done, sending him a sweet smile that made his heart stutter. “You can use the bathroom to brush your teeth and everything. I have some extra toothbrushes.“

He sniffed and ran a hand through his hair again. “Um….are you….did you….sleep well?” That was a dumb question to ask.

If you thought so, you didn’t mention it, instead smiling again. “I did. Did you? You practically passed out. I cleaned you up a bit. Hope you don’t mind.”

Heat rose to the tips of his ears. You cleaned him up? That’s why he didn’t feel sweaty or sticky. Wasn’t he supposed to do that for you? Then again, he wasn’t much of an aftercare type person with his previous partners. He’d let them use his bathroom or whatever but he never took initiative to clean his partners up.

You were so much different than him. He felt a little…..inadequate compared to you.

“Oh. Thanks.”

You hummed, turning around fully to face him. Why did he look so…..small? Not necessarily in size but in his posture and energy. He seemed a little nervous and out of place.

“Is something bothering you?” You inquired. You were hoping he wasn’t feeling uncomfortable about last night. He only used the color system once and he never said red so you assumed he was fine.

He cleared his throat again. “I just….can’t remember much from last night.”

You sighed in relief. “Oh, I thought something else was bothering you. That’s it?”

That’s it? You said it so dismissively, like his question was nothing to be concerned about.

“We went a few rounds but after the last one, you just passed out. I guess I wore you out, huh?” You giggled at that last part but he only felt hot embarrassment swell in him.

Ha! Fuck him to sleep? Hogwash.

Then again…..

“You’re also kind of a cuddle bug. I was surprised but it was nice. You’re very warm.”

He didn’t want to hear anymore of this.

“Where’s the bathroom?” He gruffly asked, turning his head away. It kind of reminded you of a small child refusing to eat their food. Cute.

You smirked but told him, “across the hall. I put a toothbrush on the counter along with a face towel.”

God he was sick of that cheeky little smirk. Stomping off to the bathroom, he grumbled about “not a cuddle bug” on his way.

After freshening up and screwing his head on straight, he ventured out of the bathroom back to the bedroom but you weren’t there. So he went to the living room instead, finding you sitting on your couch watching television.

You turned your head when you heard him enter.

“All done?”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“Cool. Did you need an Uber or anything?”

Ah, that’s what felt familiar.

Oh. Right. He had to leave. This was only a one time thing.

So why did he feel so……unwanted?

“No. I can….I can call one.”

You just nodded. “Cool.”

He just stared at the side of your head. That was it? Cool? You weren’t going to ask him stay? Or to have breakfast? He was used to women doing that but you…..you just sort of ignored him.

He didn’t like it. Why didn’t he like it?

Pulling out his phone, he requested himself an Uber, the app chiming and telling him his driver was 4 minutes away. He’s never gotten an Uber that quick. Where was this that night he was trying to get away from that girl who used too much teeth? She was crazy, chased him out the door and insulting him loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear. The driver had to meet him a block down.

“It’ll be here soon.” He announced for some reason. He didn’t know why he felt the need to tell you that. It’s not like you cared.

You stood to your feet. “Alright.” Walking over to the front door, you opened it. Jimin didn’t let his slight disappointment show on his face, heavy feet carrying him to your front door.

He stepped past the threshold, turning to face you. You were ready to close the door but paused when you noticed him still standing there.

“Something wrong? Did you leave something?”

Yes. Yes he did. He was leaving so much right now. He couldn’t leave knowing someone as perfect as you existed. He couldn’t just let you go.

Running a hand through his hair, he propositioned, “are you free sometime?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Free? For what?”

“You know….to do this again.” He motioned with a hand.

“Oh, um. I don’t think so.”

Rejection. That was new.

“What? Why?”

You gave him a pitied smile and he’s never felt so small before.

“This was just a one time thing. It was nice, don’t get me wrong but I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to keep seeing one another. You understand, right?”

No. No he didn’t. Why didn’t you want to see him again? The sex was just nice to you? So was he the only one who actually felt something?

“But….”

“I’ll definitely add you to the roster. Get home safe, okay?”

The door closed in his face and he was left there, speechless and feeling used.

~

Days passed after meeting you and Jimin couldn’t get you off his mind. All he could think about was your perfect ass and the way you rode his cock, how you prioritized his comfort and cleaned him up and even let him sleep over.

You weren’t everything he wasn’t and he wanted more of you.

He couldn’t focus at work. He spent his nights staring at his ceiling, lost in his thoughts. He didn’t even go out to parties or bars anymore.

He needed to see you again.

He needed to talk to Yoongi.

#bts #bts smut #bts fic #jimin smut #bts x black reader #bts imagines #namjoon smut #yoongi smut #jungkook smut #hoseok smut #taehyung smut #seokjin smut

[second-axis-point]

WE NEEED MORE FLUSTERED JOEL 🤲🤲🤲PLEASE SIR JUST A SCRAP

Well since you asked so nicely. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x Male!Reader

Warnings: Slight use of a nickname, No use of Y/N

Content: Fluff, Flustered Blushy Joel, Nightmares

I wanted to add a bit of fatherly instincts to the reader. So reader comforts Ellie after a nightmare and Joel watches him. Joel gets all flustered and weird when reader turns his attention to him.Thanks for the request! 💙

Calm Your Mind

You had been torn from a peaceful rest when you heard your front door slam followed by a string of frantic swears. It wasn’t uncommon for people to just walk in and you had gotten used to it a few weeks into living with Joel in Jackson. But it was almost three o’ clock in the morning so surprise visitors were uncommon.You looked over at Joel who was still sound asleep next to you. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness as you slipped on a pair of sweatpants and walked out of your bedroom, 9mm in hand. You see Ellie pacing by the couch, seemingly deliberating if she should leave or not.

“Ellie? What’s goin’ on sweetheart?”

You set down your gun and slowly make your way to her. She snapped her head up and stilled as soon as she heard your voice.

“Tex? Shit I’m really sorry I didn’t mean to wake you or Joel I just didn’t know were to go and-”

She made a b-line to you as she rambled, burying her head into your torso.

“Okay, okay. You're alright El I promise. Now take a breath and tell me what happend.”

She took a second and backed away slightly. She looked a bit embarrassed.

“I had a nightmare.”

She wouldn't meet your eyes.

“I know It’s stupid and childish but it seemed real and I just wanted to talk to someone.”

She trailed off.

“It’s alright. Nightmares aren’t childish Ellie, you know that. Joel and I both get nightmares sometimes but that’s all they are. Nightmares.”

You bend down slightly and she looks up at you. She looked exhausted. You wondered how long she had been awake.

“Can I stay here tonight?”

She asked you quietly.

“Course you can.”

You smiled softly and motioned toward the couch. You sat down first and she laid her head down on your lap. You grabbed the book you left on the coffee table and started to read out loud. She asked a few questions about the story but fell asleep only a few minutes in. You pulled down the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over her. You put a hand on her shoulder and prepared for your back to ache something awful in the morning. It was all worth it though. This little girl who you’d only known for about a year had full trust in you. She trusted you to protect her from the monsters outside while she slept.

You let your head lull back but pricked up your ears when you heard a pair of footsteps. Joel’s footsteps got closer and closer until you felt him sit down next to you. He sort of burrowed himself into your side, leaning his head on your shoulder. He brushed a strand of hair off of Ellie's forehead.

“Sorry if we woke you. She had a nightmare and came to us.”

Joel sighed.

“You didn’t wake me up. I rolled over and you weren't there.”

You pressed a kiss to the top of his head and you could feel his cheeks go red. You adored how easily you could fluster him. A few sweet words paired with a light touch to his arm could make him fumble over his words for an hour. You moved your arm from the back of the couch to drape it across his shoulders. He snuggled closer and the three of you slept on the couch that night.

—

Morning came and of course, your back was sore. You woke to find that Joel was still sleeping on your shoulder but Ellie had her eyes open and was fiddling with the fabric of your sweatpants. You nudged her slightly and she rolled to look up at you.

“Breakfast?”

You asked quietly and her eyes lit up. He hopped off the couch and towards the kitchen. You leaned Joel back on the couch so that he was lying on his back and joined Ellie. You made pancakes and bacon while she tried to remember some of the stupid jokes from her joke book. The sun started to come up and Ellie was invited to go do something with Maria and Tommy. She gave you a quick thank you and waved goodbye as she trotted off to join the others.

You went back inside to find that Joel had slept through it all. You sat on the floor by the couch and started rubbing his back. You kissed the base of his neck and moved your hand into his hair. He groaned and started to stir.

“C’mon handsome, I made breakfast.”

He rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. You hopped up onto the couch and straddled his hips. He sat up with you on his lap, his head buried in your chest. You could see his ears turning red. You put both hands in his soft hair and lightly scratched his scalp. He groaned and hugged you closer. You somehow slipped out of his grasp and made your way back to the kitchen. He followed you and sat down at the table.

His hair was mussed and his clothes were ruffled but he looked amazing. He still had a blush dusting across his cheeks and his eyes were still adjusting to the light. You pressed a kiss to his temple as you set his food in front of him. He thanked you and dug in as you cleaned up from Ellie. You and Joel had a quiet day in.

#joel miller #joel miller x male reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #i love joel miller #male reader #male reader insert #reader insert #x male reader #x reader #pedro pascal #i love pedro pascal #tlou #tlou series #tlou hbo #tlou show #request #requests

[moriartyluver]

Ah i would love to see a scenario of William with his daughter coming into his office in 2 in the morning bc she was hungry and than she told him that she couldn’t wake up mom(reader) so they went to kitchen and he tried to make something but than he woke up reader bc of the noise and she went to see what is happening and than she made something and Liam was playing with there daughter and after that all of them went to bed, i hope you can do this TwT

A/N: this idea is super cute!! Thank you for your request!!

Characters: William James Moriarty x fem! Reader

Format: oneshot

Genre: fluff

Prompt: Above^^

Warnings: none, I guess? Reader is female, established romantic relationship, reader is William’s wife. It’s quite a short oneshot tbh.

“Daddy?” A quiet voice called out to William as he sat in his office. He placed his pen down and looked over to the entrance of the room. By the door stood his 5 year old daughter who was in her pajamas and seemed to be shivering slightly. She rubbed her eyes with her balled up fists and dropped them down to her sides.

“Princess? What are you doing here?..it’s very late, you know..” He said as he stood up and walked over to his daughter who was interrupted by a yawn as she tried to explain herself.

William picked up a blanket that was draped on a chair and wrapped the girl in it as he knelt down in front of her. She whispered a ‘thank you’ as he took her into his arms.

“I-I was hungry a-and mummy was asleep, so I didn’t wanna wake her up so she could make me a snack,” she told her father as she leaned back to make eye contact with him. “So I saw that you were still awake and I came here..”

“I see,” William muttered as he grabbed a candle “we’ll go and make you a snack but you have to be quiet so you don’t wake up your mother, okay sweetheart?” (Daughter’s name) nodded.

The father and daughter duo sneaked over to the kitchen, pretending to be spies half way through who were going to infiltrate a secret lair (the kitchen) and steal supplies (the food). Your daughter found it difficult not to giggle as her she and her father snuck around playfully. The house was dead silent as it was incredibly late.

The light of the candle in William’s hand lit up the halls of the manor as they made their way over to the kitchen.

“What would you like to eat, Angel?” He asked your daughter who followed after him with a cute grin.

“Mummy usually gets me some milk and a cake or fruit tart..” (daughters name) whispered, careful not to make too much noise.

Her father looked around the kitchen for a few dishes while his daughter sat on a stool, kicking her legs happily. He had been setting something up for his daughter to eat before liam noticed that (daughters name) had started swinging back and forth on the stool, quietly giggling as the legs raised and dropped back to the ground.

“(Daughters name), be careful,” Liam’s warning feel on deaf ears. “You might fall and hurt yourself.”

The five year old had stopped momentarily before continuing again. She swung more, the next few tricks she tried including spinning around on one stool leg, wobbling in a rotation and few others that she found incredibly fun.

Eventually her father’s warnings had become reality. She felt herself tumble to the ground. Thankfully the stool wasn’t too tall but William still dropped the silverware to rush over to his daughter who was lying face first on the ground, sobbing quietly. He scooped her up in his arms, asking if she was okay to which she only cried in reply. At this rate, the commotion was going to wake you up. Your husband knew how tired you were, taking care of him and your daughter for what felt like all the time (although william would take responsibility for his child frequently). You deserved to rest.

“Wi’iam..?” Your voice called from the doorway. You watched as William tried to calm down your daughter, slowly getting her to cheer up again as you rubbed your eyes with your hands “what happened here, love?”

William explained the situation to you, making sure to include that it wasn’t your daughter’s fault that she got hurt. Unlike most fathers, his first instinct was to help his daughter instead of yell at or hit her. Of course she didn’t go without an ‘I told you so’ but he hadn’t raised his voice at the now calm child at all.

You told him to go and sit down with (daughters name) as you sorted everything out in the kitchen, preparing a quick meal for all three of you and pouring a glass of milk for your daughter aswell as a cup of tea for William and another for yourself.

When you had taken the food and drinks onto a tray into the lounge, you witnessed William playing with a stuffed toy, giving it a funny voice as he talked to your daughter who laughed and played along. You couldn’t stop a soft smile appearing on your face. He was a perfect father.

You hadn’t mentioned much about how well he took care of your daughter in your absence until after you as a family had finished eating, earning a kiss of gratitude from both your daughter and William, before you all had gone back to bed.

After you tucked in your daughter who had fallen asleep as soon as William had finished reading her a story, you pulled your husband to go to sleep with you.

“You know, you were really good at handling (daughters name)..” you smiled as you pulled the covers over the both of you, waiting for William to blow out the candle “would you mind if we gave her a little sibling too?-“ you teased before being cut off by a short but sweet kiss from Liam.

“Goodnight, darling.”

#moriarty the patriot #william james moriarty #william moriarty #william moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #mtp william #sherlock holmes