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tarjapearce · 8 months

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A Life Ahead

Miguel O'Hara & Teenage mom! reader

WARNINGS: Mentions of teenage pregnancy, strictly Platonic relationships, Mild angst, fluff, pregnant cravings.

Requested here

Hope you like ❤️

Pregnancy. It was something you hadn't though much more later in your life, something you had contemplated once you had gone out of college (mostly out of your parents satisfaction) had a job and your own place to settle. Hormones and a dead beat teen as a dad had hindered all of your plans.

Round belly nested between your legs, hair damp, freshly combed out of the shower, a comfy set of clothings. A t-shirt that belonged to the guy that had promised to be there and was nowhere to be found now. Your mom had been initially livid, even going so far to give you the silent treatment for a while.

But after some days, she approached once she saw you in the verge of a breakdown. Of course you were scared, you had been growing a child inside you for the last four months, and the thought of you being a single mom now was just heart wrenching. You had absolutely no idea of what you were doing.

The nausea state had passed, instead the cravings came.

Going outside was a torture, the different smells of various foods only made your mouth salivate. To your dismay, your child demanded the weirdest food combinations, sweet corn with cherries, oreos with dipping cheese, and the most normal one, shredded spicy chicken, or how the neighbors had called it, Tinga.

It was like you could sniff it miles away. The only few cons about you being a teenage mom was that you spent mostly of the time alone, didn't see your mom until it was 9 pm. Thankfully you had a nurse in the building nice enough to clear all of your doubts and helped you out in case you needed anything.

The food your mom brought was always store bought, full of either salt that made your feet swollen, or stale. There was no in between. The torture just increased it's levels once you had noticed the next door neighbor's delicious food smells wafting through your window. It actually made you cry.

The closest thing you could find was a local Mexican restaurant a couple blocks away that served Tostadas de Tinga. They weren't as delicious as your neighbor's you were sure, but the taste was enough to fool the little baby that grew inside. But today's luck was over. The place had closed earlier due holidays and as desperate as you were, you could help but to go home.

Teary eyed, hormonal and so so hungry. You got into the elevator, A man, the biggest person you had seen so far in your short life had to duck a little to get in. His broad and hulking frame easily towered you, but of course you weren't paying attention to him right away, no, but at what was in his hands.

You pressed your floor's number and the doors closed. The smell, the all too familiar smell made you whip your head towards his hands.

"Uh... Excuse me?"

He looked down on you and arched an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"Sorry to bother, Uh, I was wondering where would you get that?"

You pointed at the packaged food on his hands.

"I made it."

"Oh..." You now had found out who your neighbor was, he looked rather annoyed, "I see." Your eyes gazing to the juicy shredded pieces that nested within a plastic tupperware.

You just nodded as your elevator's door dinged and the elevator's door stopped. The little movement made your hand to grip at the side bar ad your other hand rested ontop of your belly, a little 'oof' as you did so. You walked your way out, so did he, finally noticing the little belly underneath your sweater.

His eyes widened slightly. How old exactly were you? Certainly not above 19 or even less. But you were young. So young, but he was none to judge.

"Hey."

Your head craned up to look at him, he had put a bag on the floor and untied the knot to give you one large tupperware full of what your stomach and child begged you for.

Your eyes swelled with tears almost instantly and he chuckled.

"I'll give you the Tupperware back once I'm finished. Thank you so much!"

You wiped your eyes with a smile. He just nodded with a little smirk on his face and entered his place.

-----

The man cooked like a god. Exaggerated comparison maybe, but the food tasted so homey, so flavorful, enough to just rail up and not overwhelm your senses. The container was full of your precious Tinga, a couple of tortillas and of course some packed jalapeños and chopped onions with coriander.

You scarfed it all down happily. Even saved something for later. You'd then wash up the tupperware and knocked on his door.

"Thank you. It was really good."

He took the container with a light chuckle.

"I know this might sound invasive but, could I have the recipe? I've tried other places but... they're kinda bland or too spiced. It's... It's OK if this is some sort of family recipe you rather keep a secret"

"Relax, kid. It's easier than it looks."

-----

You learned that his name was Miguel. That he worked at Alchemax, and he was above 40. Quite serious but that for some reason started to leave food on hour door after learning that you spent the whole day alone, cooking for yourself and just experiencing being a future mother.

He would leave small notes with the tupperwares

"Drink water." "Take your vitamins" "Don't eat that much jalapeños. Might irritate the baby."

It kinda made you wonder if he had any sort of family from his knowledge about pregnancy.

It kinda amused the quantity of different containers the man had.

On a particular evening you were up in the roof, crying and holding your belly. Your mom's stress levels were peak, and as usual, she would say things that shouldn't be said to a teen. Specially a teen mom. It had been two months exactly since Miguel started to look after you in the ways he could.

"¿Tas bien?" (You ok?)

You just wiped your eyes and stretched your back softly. You were six months going and sometimes the pains in your lower spine were too much, it hadn't help that your mom had yelled.

He took a swig from the beer he was holding and sat next to you. You sniffled.

"I know I fucked up." You'd mumble and he pursed his lips.

"Just everyone think they have the right to actually judge me for it. I even bet you thought the same when you saw me, people think I'm stupid, but I hear everything."

New tears shedded from your eyes.

"People's fucked up, kid. Everyone is a saint until someone else mess it up. Heard you fight your mom."

"She kicked me out."

"Nah. She didn't. Te lo aseguro. Puro coraje nada más. " (Promise, just pure anger)

"I don't know what you're saying, Miguel. but thanks I guess." The ends of your sweater was full of tears.

"Do you know when's the due date?"

"I don't know. Doctor said it was around the 20th of December. How fucking convenient." You laughed at the irony and he frowned.

"Don't say that. I know you have regrets, but taking it out on your baby won't help. They can hear you. Be kind to your child."

His words just sent a new fresh wave of tears spilling down your cheeks.

"I know it might be scary as fuck, but you'll do great. You're a good kid"

He patted softly your shoulders.

"Where's the dad?"

You shrugged

"In another state with a new girlfriend."

He frowned

"Is he old enough?"

"17. I know it was stupid, just-"

"Hey. Being pregnant is enough for you to just keep punishing yourself with your thoughts. Don't worry. You've got your mom's support."

A hand on your shoulder like saying You've got me.

He was a quiet man, barely expressed himself openly but definitely took care of those around him.

" Hospitals aren't that bad. I promise"

"How do you know so much about it?"

"It's something I'd rather not talk about."

The evening sun was settling, painting the skies in a pink, purple and orange shade.

"Have you though about names?"

You shook your head.

"I suck at it." He finished his beer and put his chin on his palm, nearly turning himself in The Thinker.

"Its a girl though. I mean, I don't know yet. "

"You have time to think of one. "

"Yeah, guess you're right. I just... wanna be grateful for all the things you have done for me. Like... Not even my deadbeat dad has done such things for me. I don't know if I'm sounding weird but... Im sure you're a good father."

You patted his arm softly to then rub your belly.

"Thanks kid. Means... means alot."

You smiled at him.

"I mean, you will be an hypothetical grandpa soon... so..."

He laughed briefly.

"I'm too young to be called grandpa, kid."

"Too bad. You'll be one"

"Let's get you inside. C'mon."

He helped you come down the stairs.

He'd give you a bowl full of tinga for yourself, since you had declined a baby shower.

-------

Your baby was born. And Miguel was there after you had given birth. A small little pink outfit was wrapped in a baby motif paper.

"Look at that" He seemed so natural at holding the baby, he would tell you about it, one day for sure. Right now everything was fine, just like he said it would be.

#miguel o'hara #Teen mom reader #Platonic relationship #dad miguel o'hara #Fluff #a bit of angst #pregnancy #atsv miguel #miguel atsv

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fireheartwraith · 11 months

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What is Festa Junina?

You may have heard the brazilian cc's talking about throwing a festa junina in the server, but what is it exactly?

Festa Junina translates to June's Party, and its origins go back to pagan midsummer and harvest celebrations. Time went on and it mixed with catholic beliefs, especially those centered around Saint Anthony, Saint Peter, and Saint John the Baptist (which is why it is also known as São João).

The tradition was brought to Brazil with colonization. It's no longer a summer fest since it's winter, but you can still see the influence (maybe the bonfires are part of it).

Nowadays, Festa Junina is known for the traditional square dancing and the food — seriously, the food is amazing (look up pamonha, cural, canjica, pé-de-moleque, bolo de fubá, cuzcuz nordestino... damn I'm hungry)! Most of it is made with corn or peanuts. Mulled wine is also a must! People dress in a "country" fashion, with straw hats, puffy dresses, and drawn freckles and mustaches. Everything is VERY colorful.

School kids will put on shows (known as quadrilhas), which usually include a "wedding" comedy sketch. In my high school, the twist was that the best man was in love with the groom. It was very dramatic. I loved it.

Here are some pictures and traditional songs! I wish we could get a mod with the foods to the server or something, but just the skins and decorations will already be so much fun!

youtube

#the idea of sharing traditions like this in the server is SO MUCH FUN #and not just because festa junina is my favorite #qsmp #qsmp brasil #brasil #brazil #brazilian #culture #cultural appreciation #cultural exchange #festa junina #são joão #midsummer festival #Youtube

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enigmatist17 · 8 months

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When the general public and enemies aside learned that clones had wings, a lot of them were confused. Why give an army such a vulnerability? Was it just to show that the investment (which had been a secret from everyone apparently) was worth the money?

No matter, most detested them on the grounds they were clones from the start, so most either didn't pay attention to the wings, or would try and get a feather (unwanted or otherwise). Over time however, those who were more of a cruel nature began to realize that certain colors meant certain things, and the color red scared them far above the others.

Red was the color of protectors, of those who were far more willing to act outside the GAR purview if you invoked their wrath.

Some had red peppered among their base color, bright streaks of red found highlighted in Cody's golden feathers alongside the ombre of grey that colored Wolffe. They were the ones to speak loudly and use their words to send someone running or spilling apologies like a broken dam, and were of the few that held more restraint than others.

It was the darker shades of red you really had to look out for.

Neyo was one to make citizens who hurt his brothers just vanish, and while he could never be connected, no one dared go against the clone with the stark white wings shadowed with an almost blood red. Rex hadn't had the dark red clashing for a while, but after Umbara, the red had cascaded over the lower parts of his wings nigh overnight as he kept a close eye on his men, wishing deep down inside he'd killed Krell himself for all the pain left behind.

No one however, matched Fox and his feathers all the same shade of ruby.

The sight of them in the halls of the Senate building incited a feeling of dread of those who took pleasure heckling and treating the clones like they were the scum found in an alley. While Fox rarely did more than speak in a monotone voice after corning a particular person in offices or back hallways, there were a few times he had done much much more.

An attaché from a Separatist-aligned senator that had attempted to kidnap a shiny, claiming they had been promised one after a game of sabacc, vanished shortly before he was to return home. After several hours of intense search, they were found in the morgue of a lower levels precinct, witnesses saying he had fallen to his demise. The shiny was relieved to hear the news, and only some of the senior officers noticed the dangerous smile Fox had, only coming off as a kind one to the shiny who didn't understand.

Well, understand yet

News broke one morning of a gang that had been wiped out, the only thing that was any clue was half of a red feather. Countless clones were hounded but none were ever confirmed to have been anywhere near the former gang hideout, but in the underworld it was known these particular people had found sadistic glee in trying to de-wing the patrolling Corrie Guard. They had been successful only a few days before, leaving a clone without either wings after wrestling him out of sight, so for them to wind up dead so quickly made the Corrie Guard shifts turn into just endless walks around, those who even look at them wrong fleeing before the men could do more than shrug. The wingless clone knew who had done it when Fox remained by his side day and night, letting out a Force be damned laugh when the wounded man was informed of their demise.

Red was a color civilians and their enemies feared, and for the men it appeared for, it meant safety.

Funny how that works out.

#personal #star wars #clone wars #the clone wars #winged!clones au #commander fox #commander wolffe #commander cody #captain rex #commander neyo #I am feral for feral clones #even more so for the protective ones #and Fox is the most protective of all #we stan commander fox here

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ghouljams · 10 months

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Let’s meet Birdie!! The last Darling on our Cowboy!141 docket, our Gemini queen and Goose’s Best Friend.

Gaz looks over the post-it note list Goose handed him before he walked out the door this morning. Her chicken scratch is almost as bad as Soap's and the use of angry faces isn't helping. Is this supposed to say corn meal or worm meal? That is a very high stakes difference. He needs a second opinion.

You bounce a fussy baby on your hip, staring down the large bags if bird seed on the middle shelf. Your class feeder is out, and apparently nobody sells anything that isn’t in bulk. Which you already knew, so youre not sure why you're surprised. "What do you think, Bug?" You ask the kiddo, they very helpfully grab your necklace to chew on. You sigh, alright, fair enough. That's what it's for you suppose. Might as well find someone to help you grab a bag. "Unless you want to carry it," You wiggle kiddo's arm, as if those pudgy little sausages could lift anything.

"'Scuse me," Kiddo babbles excitedly, as you turn towards the voice. You are absolutely stopped by his eyes, deep and beautifully brown, and his smile. He could almost believe in love at first sight. "Could I ask you something?" You never considered yourself the sort of girl that's a sucker for accents but maybe you should rethink that.

"Shoot," you tell him, bouncing Bug higher on your hip with a smile. He holds up a hot pink post-it. Probably a honey-do list. Dammit.

"Can you read any of this?" He asks, letting you take the list from between his fingers. You study it, the handwriting isn't that bad. At least for you, but you read a lot of very messy handwriting in your daily life.

"Looks like alphalfa, seed meal, de-wormer," you squint at the numbers, "you're not going to get any of this at these prices." He takes the list back from you and squints at it, before sighing.

"Dammit Goose."

"Goose?" You nod, that makes sense. If it's who you think it is then he'll be in trouble if he goes too far over budget.

"Alright, well, thanks for the heads up," he shakes his head and turns away.

"I could help," You say quickly, just to see him look at you again, "get you closer to budget, if you want. Me and Bug are pretty persuasive." You wave kiddo's hand and he smiles for you.

"Yeah, you are," he says, a little too soft before he clears his throat, "I mean, yeah, sure, yeah I'd appreciate it. If it's not a bother."

"No bother at all, I gotta find Murphy to grab a bag for me anyway."

"What do you need? I'll get it." He says, looking around you at the bags of birdseed. You point at the one you want and step back to make room for him as he grabs it. His biceps flex as he hauls the bag off the shelf, you wouldn't think it was heavy the way he holds it with one hand. You wonder how those hands would feel on you. "Good?" He asks and you nod quickly. Very good, he looks very good. You try to keep your eyes on his face and not his fitted tee.

Gaz watches you lean over the counter to haggle price, you don't even need to bat those pretty lashes before the man behind the counter is folding. You only needed one thing but you'd derailed your whole trip to help him. You must be some sort of angel. He's sure you have someone waiting on you, pretty thing like you. Plus the baby? Gaz looks down at the chubby little bugger you'd handed him, yep just as cute as you are, you're definitely taken.

He bounces the kid in his arms, showing them how to make hand signs with their stubby baby fingers. Each one makes the kid shriek and giggle, grabbing at his hand with full excitement. While Gaz doesn’t think it’s good practice to leave your kid with a stranger, he’s gotta admit this isn’t even the first baby he’s been handed today. The people in this town are friendly as hell. You’re friendly as hell. Although he hopes that’s because you like him, and not the southern charm.

You pat the counter with a grin, satisfied with the good will you've cashed in. You turn back to Gaz and give him a thumbs up as you walk over. "All good to go," you chirp, poking Bug's stomach to make them giggle. You're feeling pretty good about you haggling, you've still got it! It helps being a town favorite, all you had to do was mention your abysmal teaching salary and deals fell at your feet.

The way you smile at the baby in his arms makes Gaz feel some type of way. Too domestic. It sticks in his ribs when you direct that smile at him. Is he supposed to feel this many butterflies over just a smile? What is it with the Mrs’ in this town, all absolute stunners. "You're a lifesaver," he grins, handing the kiddo back to you.

"Anything for Goose's guy," you tell him, bouncing Bug on your hip to keep them from reaching to be back in Gaz's arms. He snorts, his shock and appall at your statement makes you a little embarrassed to have said anything.

"Goose is dating my mate,” He explains and you feel something squirm in your chest, hope maybe, “I’m single- Kyle.” He corrects himself quickly, “Kyle Garrick, I’m helping the Price’s out for the summer.” Your hands are full, so he shakes one of Bug’s grabby hands. You bite down a laugh.

“My friends call me Birdie,” You tell him, “Also single, if you were wondering.” His smile lights up the whole store, and you hide your smile behind Bug so you don’t look too taken by him.

“Can I help you out to your car?” Kyle asks, you nod and turn toward the exit, enjoying the way he rushes to follow you and smiles like he can’t stop.

#Cowboy!Gaz #Is Bug her kid? Haven't decided yet #they might be her sister's kid #Anyway hello Birdie hello Bug hello end of Gaz's single life #Hey did y'all know Gaz is like barely 6ft? I didn't #Was doing my standard profile research and was like damn king!#you're the short friend huh #he's not even short but still #he's surrounded by monsters #namely Ghost #x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader

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ragingbookdragon · 1 year

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Take A Leap

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language, References to Abuse

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

She didn’t believe him when he told her, her eyes narrowed in a look of suspicion, lips pursed in slight confusion. “We’re gonna go to a bar in the middle of Las Almas…and have a party?”

Soap nodded. “Yeah, Alejandro and Rudy are making preparations for it.”

“Las Almas is still under Narcos control,” she reminded. “This doesn’t seem like a very…thought out plan.”

“That section of the city is under Vaqueros control,” he countered, flicking her forehead, a grin etching his lips when she slapped at his hand with a glare. “Besides, routine patrols will still happen. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

She grunted, turning back to the gun she’d been cleaning. “I beg to differ.”

“So, you’ll come?”

“Of course I will. What kind of person would I be if I skipped out on this?”

Soap raised his hands in success, turning to the door. “Yes! Now to go run down Ghost.”

***

Ghost frowned at the clear liquor the bartender poured into the glass and he stared at it, griping, “What the fuck did you just pour in my glass?”

“Whiskey,” the man replied.

“That is not whiskey.”

“It’s white whiskey,” Alejandro cut in, balancing his weight on a hand atop Ghost’s shoulder as he sat, gesturing for the man to pour another round. “Made from corn from Oaxaca.”

“Looks like tequila,” Ghost countered, yet picked up his glass and took a sip.

“Eh?”

He shrugged. “Had better. Had worse.”

Alejandro grinned and took a sip of his own, turning on the stool to watch his men mingling with the 141. “What’s your drink of choice, hermano?”

“Kentucky.”

“Bourbon?” Alejandro clarified then pursed his lips. “Won’t find Kentucky here.”

“I’ve noticed.” Ghost turned slightly, enough that he could watch the group. “Why the party?”

The Colonel had a fond look on his face. “Give my men a reminder of what we fight for. Not just freedom, but peace, the ability to gather with family and friends with no fear for their lives.” He chuckled as he watched Soap pull a face at the shot of tequila he’d taken, Rudy on the other hand was simply holding his empty shot glass with a carefree grin. Something came over his features, Ghost recognized it as a long-held desire. “I want to see my home free, Ghost. I want to retire in the mountains, have a family. Raise my children and play with my grandchildren when I am old. Telling them stories of my glory days.” He looked at the Brit. “I cannot do that if my men aren’t reminded of what we’re fighting for now.”

Ghost nodded. “You’re a good leader, Alejandro. An even better man.”

“I try to be.” He gazed at the man. “What of you, hermano? What is your desire?”

He snorted, holding the glass up to his lips. “Don’t die before I’m forty.”

“Brindo por eso,” Alejandro laughed, raising his glass, though his expression dropped into one of almost reverence when the doors to the bar opened. “Dios mío,” he breathed. “Esa mujer prende fuego a mi corazón.”

Ghost turned to look at whatever brought out such devotion from the man, and without even understanding what Alejandro had said, he felt the exact same when his eyes fell on Seraph. She wore a simple black cotton dress, the front hand embroidered with vibrant colors, flowers, and swirls; along her wrists and ankles were delicate gold bracelets, a simple pair of black sandals adorned her feet. Her expression was one of sudden regret when she looked at the men and women in the bar, half still dressed in their gear, the other half still armed—her assumptions of the party were in fact very far off. Her hands were in front of her stomach, fingertips touching as she scanned the room for someone she knew, faces blending together until she met dark brown eyes, and her expression eased into a look of pure relief.

“Eres un afortunado hijo de puta, Ghost,” Alejandro murmured.

“Acordado,” he replied as he watched Seraph part the crowd, heading right for him. Ghost swallowed the rest of the liquor in his glass as she stood before him, taking in the true beauty she was. Eyes delicately brushed with a soft shimmer shadow; lips painted with a petal pink.

She looked at Alejandro with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, Colonel, I didn’t realize tonight was not as casual as I had assumed.”

Alejandro rose to his feet, taking one of her hands as he pressed his lips to the back of it, flattered, “Nunca tienes que arrepentirte de agraciarnos con tu belleza, Ángel.”

A smile lit up her face as she pulled her hand away and placed her hands on his shoulder, pulling him in enough to press her cheek to his. “Se gracias, Alejandro, tú también estás guapo esta noche.” As he pulled from her, he winked at Ghost and wandered off towards Rudy and Soap, leaving the two, and she gestured to the seat. “May I?”

He nodded, turning to the bartender. “Margarita de fresa. Congelado, sal en el borde.” The bartender nodded, taking care of her order and she gave Ghost a surprised look.

“You speak Spanish?”

“Enough to order alcohol,” he retorted, voice gruff, but she heard the humor in it. “You look good.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, glancing down bashfully. “I think this is the first time I’ve worn makeup in a year and a half. I forget how much better it makes me look.”

Ghost huffed and blurted, “You look more beautiful without it.” Immediately, he shut his eyes and cursed himself, barely managing to suppress the desire to slap a hand over his face and groan.

Her cheeks warmed and she said, “Thank you, Simon.” She gave a quiet, “Gracias” to the bartender when her drink was placed in front of her, and to avoid the embarrassment, she set to drinking.

“Where’d you even get all this?” he asked, gesturing to her dress and jewelry.

“Oh! I bought it a few days ago when Soap and I went out on patrol. The dress, I mean. The jewelry I had back in my pack.” She tugged at the cotton fabric. “Really cheap, but I paid the woman more than needed for it. Figured she could use the money more than I did.”

“Good heart,” he said.

“I wasn’t a winning contestant for nothing,” she joked, taking a bigger sip from her glass; pushing it over, she offered. “Try it.”

He made a face. “I don’t like tequila.”

“Tough titty, said the kitty,” she griped. “Do it.”

Ghost rolled his eyes and picked up her glass, not bothering to shift the glass around where the salt had been disturbed by her lips and downed a swig of it; swallowing, he set it back down and nodded. “Not bad.”

She smiled, heart flipping in her chest as she tapped at the glass. “Mexican tequila is made differently than the usual stuff we drink back overseas. If you really want good tequila, you’ve gotta get it from the source.”

“What are you? An alcohol connoisseur?”

Huffing a laugh, she replied, “One of the contestants in Miss Earth, Miss Mexico, told me a few years ago. Besides, I’ve taken a few trips around the world. You taste a lot of alcohol when you do.”

“Hmm.”

She went back to her drink, ordering another when hers was finished.

“How’s the wound?”

Her hand subconsciously went to her side, and she smiled. “Good. Still sore when I move a certain way, but the round of antibiotics helped.” Tipping her head, she added, “That being said, I don’t want to be shot again any time soon.”

Ghost snorted. “Then this is not the profession for you, Sweetheart.”

“Oh, it is,” she countered. “It just means I need to get sneaky enough to never be seen again.”

“Good luck. Most people do in fact investigate noises when they hear them.”

She gasped with an exaggerated fashion. “Wait! You mean to tell me that real life isn’t like the video games and movies!”

Ghost rolled his eyes. “You’re such an odd duck.”

“Excuse you, Lieutenant, this is twenty-eight years of suppressed oddness finally being comfortable enough to be unleashed.”

“That’s not pleasing.”

“Not meant to be.” She breathed deeply, letting out a content noise as she gently rested her head on his arm. “I really do feel comfortable here, Simon. With you guys.”

“Yeah?” he murmured, looking down at her, trying so hard not to breathe in the scent of vanilla and lilies that seemingly followed her everywhere.

“My father isn’t a good man, Simon,” she whispered, evidently loose-lipped. “I didn’t have a good childhood.”

Ghost hummed lowly. “You don’t have to tell me now, Seraph. Not here where everyone can listen.”

“But I want you to know,” she said, turning her head to gaze at him, eyes sad. “I…want someone to know.” He nodded wordlessly. “This life now, this job, it’s hard. The hardest thing I’ve ever done. I thought I was going to die when I was in training because I knew nothing about survival or guns or war. But I passed and now I’m here doing this.” She gazed at him. “This is the first time in my life that I’ve chosen something for myself. I clawed my way out of his grip to freedom. Even if it meant doing what we do and having to live with the choices I make, I’m free. I’m free.”

He gently lifted a hand, brushing away a fly away as he commended, “I’m proud of you.” Tears filled her eyes, lips wobbling as she turned her head down, and Ghost took her hand, ignoring the sniffling that came from her as he simply brushed his thumb along her hand. “Not just anyone can crawl out of a hellhole, Seraph. It takes real strength and courage to take that leap.” He squeezed her hand firmly but was careful not to hurt her. “I don’t know who your father is, and I don’t care who he is, but you are not him. You are more. You’re better.”

Her sniffling didn’t let up, but she turned her face into his arm and stayed there for a few minutes until she pulled away and glared at him. “I took all this time to be pretty and look what you did.”

And look he did, at the red rims around her eyes, the tear streaks on her cheeks, and if he was being honest, her nose was running a little, so he tossed her a napkin and said, “Wipe your nose, toddler.”

“You’re an ass,” she griped, but did as he told her, sniffing harshly as she wiped her nose and under her eyes before clearing her throat and declaring, “I want to dance.”

“I don’t dance,” Ghost said.

“I didn’t say I was dancing with you,” she countered and leaned up, pecking his cheek; she slid off the barstool and turned, “Alejandro! Baila conmigo!”

Groans echoed around the room, but Alejandro’s shout of pride echoed higher. “¡Ajá! ¡El Ángel bonita me ha elegido!”

Before he could even think about reaching her, someone had her upper arm, spinning her around to a strong chest as another hand rested on her upper back. She gaped at Ghost. “I thought you said you don’t dance?”

“I don’t,” he reiterated.

A knowing look came across her face, and she teased, “Don’t be so green, Simon. It’s unbecoming of a man like you.”

“And yet I’m still a hot-blooded man just like everyone else.”

She smiled as an upbeat tune filtered through the speakers and she took his hands in hers, joy lighting up her face as she spun around. Soldiers from both teams even gathered in, taking the hands of their friends as the group danced together, laughter echoing all around, drinks pouring. Her eyes never left Simon’s, and neither his hers even as they were pulled away and into other arms and circles.

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ourstaturestouchtheskies · 9 months

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The Good Witch by Maisie Peters x Writing

The Persian Sibyl – Guercino // Portrait of a Girl – Workshop of Joshua Reynolds // Woman Writing a Letter – Gerard ter Borch // The Love Letter (Girl at the Window) – Hugo Kauffmann // The Important Response – Florent Willems // What to Write – Hermann Fenner-Behmer // Allegory of the Raid on Chatham (1667) with a Portrait of Cornelis de Witt – Cornelis Bisschop (detail) // Coming of Age – Maisie Peters // Watch – Maisie Peters // The Band and I – Maisie Peters // BSC – Maisie Peters // There It Goes – Maisie Peters // History of Man – Maisie Peters

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wingsofhcpe · 8 months

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Mar's BBC vs Book Canon Musketeers Assession: a Short Yet Comprehensive Guide

(read under the cut!)

bbc d'Artagnan: baby. has not done anything wrong in his life ever, actual angel, just very stupid.

book d'Artagnan: has the power of god and anime on his side, most annoying little bitch you'll ever meet, broke, has a stupid horse, perpetually single.

bbc Athos: depressed older brother figure that's not-so-secretly very soft and loving of his found family and would die to protect them, also still horny for one Milady de Winter. Carries the communal garrison braincell.

book Athos: drunk misogynist who yearns for death and whose only reason to live is his son Raoul. All his braincells have committed self-murder.

bbc Porthos: feisty ray of sunshine who has never had a single evil thought in that silly head of his, actually quite clever, complicated and emotional, deserves the world.

book Porthos: vainest person you'll ever meet, doesn't know when to shut up, sugar baby who cares only about himself (and maybe Aramis), has not had a single intelligent thought in his entire existence.

bbc Aramis: cinnamon roll, golden retriever, actually quite clever, troublemaker who can't keep it in his pants, lovable self-sacrificial idiot who would get himself killed in a heartbeat to save his loved ones, brightest smile in all of Paris. Invented bisexuality.

book Aramis: mean, edgy, probably secretly a vampire, would sell you to satan for one (1) corn chip, one bad day away from going on a murder spree. Also invented bisexuality.

bbc Treville: exasperated dad.

book Treville: extremely exasperated dad.

bbc Cardinal: genius evil mastermind played by Peter Capaldi.

book Cardinal: genius evil mastermind sadly not played by Peter Capaldi.

bbc Rochefort: worst person you'll ever fucking meet, arguably the only downgrade in the show.

book Rochefort: sneaky lil bastard that's also the bestieTM, we stan.

bbc Constance: feminist icon, beautiful queen I'd kill and die for, gaslight gatekeep girlboss.

book Constance: she's just there and then she dies ig.

bbc Milady: my cunning evil murderwife, would die for her, deserves the world.

book Milady: actually I believe Athos should have strangled her with his own hands, fuck her.

bbc Bonacieux: evil greasy little man, fuck him.

book Bonacieux: he's just... kinda... there I guess? Idk man Dumas looked at the Bonacieuxs and went "nah".

bbc Louis: annoying little shit but he's kinda cute and nice sometimes

book Louis: manchild, just There ig.

bbc Anne: radiant angel who has done nothing wrong in her life ever and she's also perfection itself.

book Anne: literal drama queen.

BONUS ROUND- GRIMAUD

bbc Grimaud: hot evil emo dude, idk what his problem was tho

book Grimaud: actually he just doesn't get paid enough for this shit so if he wanted to murder Athos like in the show I'd understand that lmao

#bbc musketeers #the musketeers #the three musketeers #les trois mousquetaires #alexandre dumas #athos #porthos #aramis #d'artagnan #constance bonacieux #milady de winter

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feelmyskinonyourskin · 8 months

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You And I Were Fireworks [Proposal Gone Wrong Trope]

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Female Reader

Trope de Sept Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Proposal Gone Wrong situation 1. Character wants to propose. Something goes awry and ruins their plan "AJ is determined to make you his Aunt, without giving Sam a say in the matter."

Warnings: Fluff. Reader is fem identifying (references to she/her pronouns and being Cass and AJ’s Aunt.) No use of y/n. Established relationship.

WC: 1,100

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

Spending the Fourth of July with Sam’s family in Louisiana had become one of your favorite traditions of your relationship in the few years since you and Sam had started dating. It was only fitting that Sam's hometown threw a true American neighborhood cookout on the pier, proud of the local-bred boy who had taken up the mantle of Captain America.

You had just finished helping Sarah and a few of the other neighbors set up the tents on the dock, when you noticed Sam’s youngest nephew sitting alone on the edge of the pier. You wandered over and plopped down beside him.

“What’s up AJ? You look upset. Did Bucky and Cass not let you play corn hole with them?”

“No…” the boy said, dejected.

“Okay, so what’s up?”

“Leon asked who I was here with and I said my Aunt and Uncle, but he said you’re not really my Aunt cause you and Uncle Sam aren’t married.” he gestured to the man named Leon a few feet away, putting beer and soda into a cooler.

“Well, I mean he’s not wrong. But don’t worry AJ, I love you like you already are my nephew. Your mom and brother have been nothing but welcoming since Sam and I started dating and I really do feel like family.”

“But why aren’t you and Uncle Sam married yet?”

“Because he hasn’t asked me yet! He’s gotta propose first. Quit dragging his feet, you know?” you joked and it made AJ chuckle “And besides, we’re both pretty busy and weddings take time to plan. But, hey you’re gonna look great in a suit when you’re a groomsman.”

“You really think Uncle Sam is gonna make me a groomsman?”

“I know he will. Now come on, quit worrying about what Leon has to say and go enjoy the party.”

The conversation left your mind until a few hours later when you were all sitting around a picnic table enjoying your cookout food. Sarah and Sam were discussing upgrades they wanted to make to the boat when fall rolled around, and Cass and Bucky were in heated competition to see who could make the Ketchup containers make the loudest fart noise.

AJ slid onto the bench beside you as you ate.

“Hey AJ, you doing better?”

“Yes. But I have a question.” he cleared his throat, getting the attention of everyone at the table.

AJ dropped to one knee beside you and held out a makeshift ring he clearly had just fashioned from some straw wrappers.

“Will you marry my Uncle Sam?”

“AJ!” Sarah exclaimed

“Oh god no.” Sam buried his head in his hands

“Oh god yes.” Bucky said, fully invested

“AJ, is this you asking because you want me to be your Aunt or did your Uncle put you up to this?” you asked

“No! It's me trying to make this happen! What you said was right. Uncle Sam needs to stop dragging his feet and make you part of the family. So I figured I’d make him do it!” AJ said triumphant in his plan

“Wait what?!” Sam’s head shot up

“AJ that was… I meant that as a joke.” you stuttered

Sarah clapped her hands together and stood.

“Okay kiddo, let’s quit interfering in Uncle Sam’s personal life. C’mon you can help me get the snow cone station set up.”

“But mom, she didn’t answer!” he said as Sarah tugged him away from the table

“Wow that was…” Bucky began to chuckle

“So when did you tell him I'm dragging my feet?” Sam turned to you and asked

“I did not… I meant it as a joke okay?!”

“Uh huh, sure…” he joked, putting his arm around you and kissing your temple

It felt like that was all you saw of Sam the rest of the day, he kept busy socializing with his old neighbors and friends. You knew Sam was always the life of the party, but a small part of you worried he was just avoiding you because of what happened earlier.

Finally, the sun finally set and the fireworks started. You sat on the edge of the pier, feet dangling in the warm summer water as streaks of red and blue exploded above you.

You felt a presence near you, as Sam sat behind you to enjoy the show as well, legs bracketed on either side of you as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled your back to his chest, planting a kiss on your neck once he was situated.

“Hey beautiful.” he greeted you

“Hey Sammy.”

The two of you sat in silence as the show continued, until Sam finally spoke up.

“What was your answer by the way?”

“What?”

“To AJ’s question. What was your answer?”

“Sam, you know it would be a yes if you asked. Why? Is AJ giving you ideas?”

“No, I can do ideas myself, problem is he beat me to it.”

“Wait, what?”

Sam removed one hand from around your waist and held it in front of you, a beautiful diamond ring in his palm.

“Little trickster ruined my big moment. But the question’s still the same. Marry me?”

“Sam…” you craned your neck to look at him, the smile splashed across his face showing he was being serious

The emotion hit you in a wave and all you could do was nod yes, not able to verbally answer or else you were sure the tears of joy would never stop. Sam leaned in and kissed you deeply, untwisting his arms from around your middle to help you put the ring on your finger.

“It’s perfect by the way.” You commented, admiring the way the ring sparkled under the colorful display in the sky

“If the kid just had an ounce of patience, I could have actually surprised you.” Sam laughed

“Consider me surprised. I love you Sam.”

“I love you too baby. Hey just think of how excited AJ’s gonna be, getting his 4th of July wish to make you his Aunt.”

“Is that a thing? Does Captain America grant Independence Day wishes now? Like Santa for summer?” you joked

“Just for my nephews. And for you.” he kissed you again

“You know if you tell him that, next year he’s gonna ask for a puppy.”

“Ha! and I’ll do it. And Sarah will kill me.”

“Puppy would make a cute ring bearer in our wedding.”

“Now who’s the one with ideas?”

"Just saying, a Fourth of July wedding with a puppy would be amazing."

#sam wilson x reader #sam wilson #falcon #captain america #anthony mackie #marvel fic #mcu #trope #trope de sept #x reader fic #fatws #falcon and the winter soldier

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silent-raven13 · 1 month

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Calling my bf, "My Husband" Prank

(There's a prank trend where significant others are are calling their partners "My Husband" instead of their bfs. Some are very cute and some are heartbreaking if ya'll ever look it up on TikTok. Anyway for punk flower it's always cute!)

Miles set up his smartphone on a phone stance, while him and Hobie got some lunch together. The prank idea came from Miles watching some TikTok videos of one partner of a couple would say their boyfriend is their husband and wait to see their reaction. He send those videos to his friends, Gwen thought he should try it with Hobie. Pavtri said it would be cute to see his reaction, since the two been together for a long time.

The punker and artists had been dating for nine years going on ten! Miles is already twenty four, while his Hobie is twenty five. Their relationship been so long and close that Miles figure Hobie wouldn't be the kind of partner to have a negative reaction.

"Ready?" Miles happily asked as the two sit outside of HQ on a modern design courtyard to enjoy the bright sunny day on Earth 928.

Hobie nodded having to take out their take out containers and their drinks. "Yup, do I look good?" He checks himself at the camera seeing himself looking handsome. He noticed the live symbol on the Spider So-City app, "Are we live?"

"Yup! Just for fun!" Miles giggles, "You be surprised how many views we get from Punkflower fans."

"Because of Pav?" He asked already noticing a lot of hearts, likes and Pavtri commenting a big happy face emoji.

"Yup!" Miles waves at the camera, "Hey guys! Today, we got some Jamaican food from my world, it's a new mom and pop shop. So we wanted to try it." He holds his drink, "Today I order Rice and Peas with jerk chicken and fried plátano, which is ripe plantains. I got Sorrel which is Jamiaca basically sweet hibiscus tea." He took a sip trying his drink, "Mm, it's good." He shows off his plate seeing how delicious his food look.

Then, Hobie took a bite of his Jamaican patty being in a white paper bag separate from his main order tray, "This Jamaican Patty is scrummy. MMM! Been craving this for a while." He mutters having another bite of his beef Jamaican patty tasting the savory fried flavors.

"Ohh, is that good?" Miles asked as he tries to open his plastic packet where his utensils are in. His boyfriend hold out the patty out for his to try.

"Try, luv." He said letting Miles taking a bite it.

The Spider-man nodded at the flavor, "That's good! Oh wow, so much flavor. That aunty don't play."

"Hahaha, she doesn't. I knew once she started rushing us to order." Hobie chuckles.

Miles chews, "Mmm, so good. I wonder if she makes it spicy or she adds bread." He turns to the camera, "For someone people, some Jamaicans or people like to eat bread with their Jamaican patties." His eyes on some Spider-heroes being confused or asking why or why carbs on carbs.

"What are they saying?" Hobie asked.

"One said Why?" Miles giggles at the question, then saw a lot of Spider-Heroes posting Jamaican flags.

Hobie shrugs, "Because it's bloody good. I do it most of the time. It's also to make you full, too."

"Someone said carbs on carbs is insane!" His boyfriend read the comment, "Ya'll are forgetting some Latinos or Mexicans like eating bolio con tamal de dulce con café! I've seen that's a thing."

His boyfriend arched his eyebrows, "What's that?"

"It's a Mexicans corn dough that is sweeten by fruit like strawberries or pineapple and they wrap it in corn husk. I think steamed. It's a big thing during the winter times. Me and Ganke have a friend, she's Mexican and her mom made like so much and gave us some." Miles sips his drink, he look at the comments.

Miguel put a Mexican flag and wrote: Que rico! Así se come! Bolio con tama dulce y cafécito

Gabriella commented next: I love it with Champurrado! You should try Tamal de Pińa!

Miles giggles, "Gabi said we should try the pineapple one. I think you'll like it. It's pretty good if you got it from someone that knows how to make tamales."

"I'm def, luv. I rarely hate anything, I just like to stick what I like sometimes." Hobie commented, he sips his drink, "I got myself a Sorrel!"

"Oh, I forgot to talk about your order!" Miles fake gasp, "So my husband order rice and peas with a side of Oxtails..." Hobie stop eating his Jamaican patty his head slowly turns to his boyfriend then his lips twisted to a big grin. "And he order fried plantains-" Hobie interrupted his boyfriend, "What?"

"What?" Miles asked pretending to be confused.

Hobie chuckles having a big smile on his face, "What you said?"

"I said I forgot to mention your order." He playfully said having a small shy smile.

His punker shook his head being playful, "Nooo, Sunflower. After that. What did you say?" His eyes gleaming, his whole body turning pinker than before.

"My husband." Miles giggles while answering his boyfriend question. That made the punker to get up being out of camera's view and jumps up and down.

"Yes! Yes! YES!" He shouted up with joy.

Miles smiles widely at the positive outlook of his boyfriend, what he did expect is his boyfriend came running to hug him and sweep him off his feet. "Say it, again?" Hobie happily carries his boyfriend in a koala hugging position, he kisses him on the cheek.

"My husband." Miles' face all flustered but he said it much louder and prouder tone.

Hobie gave his a nose nuzzle, "That's more like it." They happily kiss forgetting their lunch for the moment.

The live stream went on with many Spider-heroes sending hearts and excitement emojis!

Gwen: 😅I think Hobie thinks Miles propose him

Margo: DITTO! 😂

Pavtri: 🥳 I'll be the best man!

Gabi: I wanna be the flower girl! 🤗

#punkflower #miles morales #hobie brown #spiderman #across the spider verse #spider verse #flowerpunk #fanfic #across the spiderverse

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astrobei · 1 year

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a prompt from @pavement-ghosts: “perhaps... mike n will talking in the back of the van sometime during the s4 roadtrip?”

Will is seriously getting sick of gas station food.

He knows beggars can’t be choosers, or whatever, and Argyle having a wallet full of cash on him when he pulled up was a stroke of luck Will isn’t about to take for granted, but–

Look. There are only so many corn chips one man can eat before he starts to feel extremely, dangerously, undeniably sick.

“Oh, no,” he groans, as the back door to the van opens up. Mike hoists himself up with one arm, the other laden with brightly packaged snacks, and shakes his head. “Nothing good?”

“Slim pickings today.” Mike tosses a small bag of barbeque Lays at him and settles back. “It’s better than Doritos at least?”

Will laughs, but it comes out forced, dry, even to his own ears. “True. No more Doritos,” he agrees, tearing the bag open. It splits off-center and spills over, and he picks a couple of them off of his leg and pops them into his mouth.

Mike watches him, unmoving. His own package of chips lies unopened in his lap, legs stretched out across the floor of the van and crossed at the ankles. It’s a pleasant enough day, some truck-stop town on the cusp of the Utah border, and Will has never been so sick of the sunshine before. This harsh, unchanging desert sun– it’s all they’ve been getting for hours of the day at a time. Sun, blue sky, dirt and rocks and sand and gas station convenience stores that don’t carry much other than three types of chips and off-brand beer. Rinse, repeat.

Will hadn’t thought he’d be the kind of guy to miss the clouds, but he does. Maybe it’s not about the clouds, he thinks, biting down on a chip. Maybe it’s just about missing anything recognizable. Even the cul-de-sac of their Lenora house would be preferable to this. They could’ve been driving in circles for days and he wouldn’t know, because everything looks the exact fucking same.

“Whoa,” Mike says suddenly, and Will blinks. “What did that bag of chips ever do to you?”

He glances down to where, apparently, he’s got a white-knuckle grip on the crumpled-up plastic of his bag. “Oh,” he says, shaking the bag around. Whatever’s left inside has been pulverized into little sweet-and-salty crumbs. “Nothing. Sorry.”

Mike is still watching him curiously, peering up at him through his bangs. He’s taller than he’d been six months ago, which is something Will had noticed before, but it’s more obvious now with him slumped against the walls of the van, long legs thrown all into Will’s personal space with absolutely zero shame.

He carries the height differently than he used to. Mike had always been taller, but the boyish confidence lingering around him isn’t there anymore. He moves like he doesn’t know what to do with his own body, like he’s trying to condense his six feet of height down into five-foot-something, and the thought of it makes something turn over in Will’s chest, sour and strangely vulnerable.

Finally, Mike sighs, then kicks out a leg to tap a foot against Will’s knee, where he’s sitting cross-legged. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I– what?”

“Penny,” Mike repeats, blinking up at him, “for your thoughts. What’s on your mind?”

Will glances back down at the crumpled up wrapper, then at Mike’s foot resting softly against his own leg, and blurts out, “Your shoes aren’t laced evenly.”

There’s a moment of silence, where Mike’s eyes widen in confusion– and then he laughs, quiet and sudden. “Is that what got you so upset?”

“No,” Will says, instead of, maybe, I’m not upset. “I wasn’t upset about that.”

Mike looks down at his own shoes, a little surprised, like he hadn’t noticed they were done up that way, a few of the eyelets left empty on one foot. When they were younger, Karen Wheeler would never have let Mike step out of the house with his shoes looking like that. Will wonders when he got Converse in the first place, black ones like these. When Mike started growing his hair out, when he bought that godawful yellow shirt he’d been wearing on the plane, when he’d turned quiet and resigned and nothing like the boy Will remembers leaving behind six months ago.

“Okay,” Mike says easily. “What were you upset about?”

Will sifts past fleeting thoughts about shoes and legs and moving trucks leaving the driveway of his old house. “I’m just really sick of this car,” he admits, and Mike laughs again.

It’s strange. Will can count on one hand the number of times Mike has laughed since he got here. “Me too,” Mike smiles. “This car, and these clothes, and these fucking–” He holds up his bag of chips, a bright yellow package with big pink lettering. “I have no idea what this is, okay, and I’m a little scared to try it.”

Despite himself, Will smiles too. “Why did you take those, then?”

Mike shrugs, looks down, then rips the bag open in one decisive, fluid motion. “There were only, like, three things on the shelves.” He pulls a chip out and studies it, holds it up to his nose, and pops it in his mouth.

Will raises an eyebrow. “Good?”

Mike makes an unimpressed face. “It’s just regular potato.”

Will can’t help it. He starts laughing, and he doesn’t know why, because nothing about this situation is particularly funny. El is stranded somewhere a hundred miles away, Mike’s foot is still resting against his knee, the entire van smells like weed and Will is laughing. “Sorry,” he says after a few moments, breathing out and dropping his head into his hands. “I don’t know why I– sorry.”

He’s not sure what he expects. Maybe for Mike to shoot him an annoyed look, like he’d done back when they’d first picked him up, and that initial sensation of cold, unpleasant dread had settled at the base of Will’s spine. Maybe for Mike to start laughing too, out of sheer amusement at how ridiculous their situation is.

Mike, however, does neither of these things. When Will looks back up, his eyes are wide, and there’s a tentative smile dancing around his lips, and a single, unflavored potato chip is clutched, abandoned, between two fingers.

Will suddenly feels more self conscious than he has in a long time. “What?”

Mike shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, still wearing the same strange expression. “I just remembered– oh, this is dumb. Sorry.”

“No! No, I want to hear,” Will says hurriedly. “Come on! Um. Penny for your thoughts?”

Mike’s lip twitches, and he sighs. “I just– whenever you used to come over,” he starts, gesturing to Will’s empty chip bag. “You used to eat all our barbeque Lays.”

Will blinks. “Oh,” he says softly. “Oh, yeah, I’d– I remember.”

They’d rarely had those snacks at home. Mike swore up and down that they had barbeque chips all the time because everyone loved them, but Will doesn’t remember anyone else at the Wheeler house eating them but him. Not even Mike, who’d grab a few out of indifference, but every time Will came back, the bag would be there, the same as it had been when he’d last seen it, untouched.

“Sorry,” Mike says again, fingers tapping restlessly against the floor of the van. “That was dumb.”

“You ate all our pop tarts,” Will blurts out, and Mike’s fingers still. “The strawberry ones. I remember that too.”

“Oh yeah,” Mike snorts, “yeah, you used to get so mad at me.”

“Yeah!” Will exclaims. “Yeah, because I’d be looking forward to them all day at school and then you’d run into my house and just–”

He cuts himself off. This is– okay, Will doesn’t know what this is, but it’s unfamiliar. It’s venturing into territory he’s never had to venture into before, because they don’t do this, him and Mike. They don’t reminisce like this, they don’t make small talk, they–

They don’t do much of anything, anymore.

“Hey,” Mike says suddenly, and then he puts his mostly-full bag of chips down and shoves a hand into his pocket. “Hang on, I forgot about this–”

He pulls out a small orange box, which makes a strange sort of rattling noise as he hands it over. Will takes it with a small frown. And then– “Are these–”

“Um. Yes.” Mike rubs at the back of his neck with one hand. “Do you still like Reese’s Pieces?”

Honestly, Will hasn’t thought much about Reese’s Pieces lately, but suddenly, he’s nine years old again, exchanging candy after trick-or-treating, costume still on, wrappers littered all over the floor, the heady giggles accompanying an oncoming sugar rush. “Yeah,” he says, and it feels like a bit of a confession as it leaves his mouth. “I– they’re my favorite.”

“Cool.” It’s incredible, how different Mike looks like this, his face and body relaxing like some unspeakable weight was taken off his shoulders by Will saying this. “Cool, okay, great. Um. Don’t tell Jonathan but I was supposed to use that money to buy some, like, granola bars or something. I thought you’d enjoy this more, though.”

Will’s still staring at the box, gaudy orange and brown and smaller than his hand but it feels bigger than that, somehow. It feels like maybe he’d be okay with spending another week out here, in the blazing, unchanging desert sun, if Mike’s face goes open and vulnerable like it is right now, if maybe he keeps his legs right where they are, all up in Will’s space like he just really wants to be here.

“Thank you,” he says at last, and Mike nods wordlessly. Will rips open the cardboard of the top, and tips out a few into his hand. “You wanna share?”

#i don't know what this is tbh #u said will and mike talking in the van and my brain went to reeses pieces #i hope this was a little similar to what u were imagining!#will byers #mike wheeler #byler #fic #ficlet #i should start a ficlet tag #um #fun sized fics #<- new ficlet tag just dropped #byler fic

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