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augustjustice · 3 months

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Chemistry, History, and Shared Trauma

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The day Eddie’s released from the hospital, he’s packed up into Steve’s BMW and driven straight to the Harrington mansion.

The government agents are still in the process of doing the whole song-and-dance routine required to clear Eddie’s name, so laying low is ideal. There hasn’t been time to relocate Wayne to a new trailer–something Owen promises is happening, though Eddie will believe it when he sees it–and a hotel room isn’t really a great place to recover, especially considering the state Eddie finds himself in.

When the question of where exactly he was going to go had come up, Steve had volunteered all too quickly.

“You can stay with me,” he had said, easy as pie, like it was nothing. “My parents aren’t home, and, besides…it’s not like anybody’s going to be looking for you there.”

Though Eddie had tried to protest, quick to say that he didn’t want to put Steve out, his jock savior wouldn’t hear a word of it.

So, the next day, Steve had shown up to the hospital early, signed all the appropriate paperwork, and then wheeled Eddie out into the parking lot whistling some upbeat, poppy tune Eddie didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of recognizing–but still found oddly endearing, in spite of himself.

And that had been that, Steve hauling Eddie’s cane out for him under one arm and his bag of meds in the other once they pull up in front of the Harringtons’ house, ready to put Eddie up in the guest room next to his like he’d belonged there all along.

Eddie’s mobility is still pretty limited–hence the cane and the wheelchair now sitting in the Harrington’s den–but that doesn’t mean he isn’t bold (and stupid) enough to try to make his way up the stairs on his own.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Steve scolds, catching Eddie around the waist as he wavers on his feet a little, clearly being careful of the open wounds on his stomach and torso. “Hold on, just…hold on, man.”

“You got me, big boy?” Eddie teases.

The flirtatious call back is a diversion, an attempt to cover up the embarrassment of having to be this damn reliant on…well, literally everyone around him, but Steve in particular from here on out.

“Yeah. Yeah, I got you,” Steve says, tone nothing less than perfectly sincere.

Eddie deliberately ignores the way his stomach gives a little swoop in response.

So he leans on Steve heavily as they make their way to the next story of the house, close enough to get a faint whiff of Steve’s cologne, a surprisingly sweet mix of amber, vanilla, and something a little fruity tickling his nose. Once they’re finally inside, though, Eddie does manage to hold himself upright long enough for a quick look around, taking in the digs he’s going to be sleeping in.

The room itself is almost sterile in its cleanliness–neat military precious corners on the bed, devoid of the usual clutter Eddie associates with home. The blue floral pattern that covers the walls is bizarrely identical to the fabric of the curtains, the repetition almost comical, when he thinks about the uniformity of all the houses that line the street. It’s the kind of detail that would be called too ‘on the nose,’ if written into a book.

Eddie’s surprised to find a few exceptions to the cold tidiness, however, and even more surprised those exceptions come in the form of a stack of fantasy novels stashed inside the bedside table and a couple of action figures tossed in one corner.

Following his gaze, Steve turns from where he’s ‘tidying up’ what can only be an imaginary mess perceptible to the eyes of babysitting monster hunters and babysitting monster hunters alone, Eddie guesses. He gives Eddie a wry look.

“Dustin stays over sometimes,” he explains, “the other rugrats, too, but it’s still mostly his stuff that winds up here. Leaves his shit all over the place.”

There’s a fondness to Steve’s smile that undercuts the annoyance in his words.

Eddie thinks back to the months and months Dustin spent talking Steve up to him. How even then it never really occurred to him just how close they might be. It’s strange to think, now, that though Eddie’s spent nearly a whole school year as DM for Steve’s nerdy band of babysitting charges, their paths had rarely ever crossed, beyond glimpses and a handful of long forgotten words exchanged, before that nightmare of a Spring Break. Almost like their lives have been running in some kind of strange parallel, fated to collide, without either of them even noticing it.

Eddie’s not exactly sure how to phrase the feeling that comes over him at the thought, so instead he says, “I can’t believe we’re best friends with a fourteen year old, man.”

“God, tell me about it.”

Eddie takes a few stumbling steps forward and sits down on the bed, honestly a bit proud of himself he manages it with as much grace as he does. As he settles in, he catches sight of a small stack of photos splayed out on the bedside, sitting atop what looks to be a photo album.

Though it’s only a brief glimpse, the two visible pictures alone hint at the whole life story no doubt tucked away between glossy pages.

Theres’s Dustin, several years younger than he is now, in a suit shooting the camera his gummy smile and with a hairdo that looks suspiciously like Steve’s own. And a polaroid shows Robin sprawled out on the counter at Scoops Ahoy, company policy be damned and a book in her hand, Steve’s head just in frame as she flips off the camera.

While Steve fusses over him, fluffing his pillows and insisting he go get Eddie something to drink, Eddie can’t help but think he'd sorta like to hear it sometime–Steve Harrington’s life story. Be regaled with tales, from the photos and beyond, now that they’re here together, after the almost end of the world.

He hopes that, maybe, if he’s lucky, Steve will want to tell him some day.

---

The bloodcurdling scream wakes Steve.

He’s out of his room and down the hall in a flash, nail bat quickly snatched out of its hiding place underneath his bed with ease after years of practice.

Even with his heart racing, he’s quiet when he opens the guest bedroom door, not wanting to scare Eddie or alert…anything else that might be lurking inside.

“Eddie,” Steve calls out, whisper soft as he approaches the bed. When he repeats it, it’s a little harsher, more of a hiss, trying to get Eddie’s attention. “Eddie!”

As he draws closer, Steve can see that Eddie is sweating, large droplets visible where they’ve beaded on his forehead, and he’s writhing hard enough in the sheets Steve’s worried he’s going to pop a stitch if he doesn’t stop him soon.

There’s really only one option ahead Steve sees for himself.

So he gets a knee on the mattress and climbs into the bed, wrapping his arms around Eddie to still him. Even as he does it, Steve worries his bottom lip between his teeth, anxious Eddie might fight against the restriction and inadvertently make the situation worse.

But then huge brown eyes fly open, Eddie’s terror reflected plainly as he stares up at Steve.

“Jeez–Christ!” Eddie manages to get out, stuttered and slurred, cutting off when Steve makes a soft shushing sound.

“Hey, man,” Steve murmurs, trying to keep his tone soothing as he gives him a tentative smile, “it’s me. It’s just me. You’re okay, you’re safe.”

He brushes Eddie’s sweaty bangs back from his forehead, a gesture that would be too intimate in any other circumstances, and then just keeps trying to murmur reassuring shit to him, voice low and gentle.

“I’m here, Eds. I’m here.”

Eddie is shaking against him, but he isn’t squirming or trying to buck him off, which Steve takes as a good sign–as ideal, really, as Steve could hope for in this situation. One of Eddie’s hands comes up to run down his face, his curls shifting against the pillow as he shakes his head fervently.

“Shit, Harrington, I thought–I mean, what I saw–” he trails off, lip trembling.

“I get it, man. Trust me, I get it.”

Though Eddie had squeezed his eyes firmly shut through the come down, he blinks them open again, looking at Steve through the darkness.

“Yeah, uh. Guess you would, wouldn’t you? Probably better than anybody.”

Steve can only nod his agreement.

“I mean, not just me. All of us get them,” he whispers, compelled to say it quietly, as he’s not sure if that truth is a comfort or a burden. “The nightmares, you know? Nance, Dustin, Robin–me.”

“Well, can I just say, they truly and royally suck.”

“Yeah…can’t really argue with you there, man.”

Eddie seems to register, then, that Steve has curled his body around him. His steadily loosening posture goes stiff again, much to Steve’s disappointment, and his eyes dart over nervously to catch Steve’s as he sucks in his bottom lip.

“Fuck, I-I’m sorry, dude. I totally didn’t mean to wake you up with my–terror-filled screams.”

The smile he shoots Steve is self-deprecating, tentative.

Steve’s grip slackens, but he doesn’t pull away, still pressed against Eddie’s side.

“Hey,” Steve coaxed, “you don’t need to do that, Eds. Like I said, we all fucking get them. That’s what I’m here for, okay? I–just wanna help when I can.”

The quirk of Eddie’s lips looks more genuine, now, some of the tension draining away.

“You know, Harrington, it’s kinda annoying how much I know you mean that.”

“Better get used to it, Munson. Cuz I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve gives Eddie one final quick squeeze around his shoulders, wondering if the gesture somehow crosses the line of casual, friendly touch Steve has gotten used to doling out to Eddie since all the Upside Down shit started, the jocular back pats and hair ruffling he’d justified as just typical guy stuff.

With that thought firmly at the front of his mind, Steve pulls away, albeit reluctantly. That said, he really doesn’t want to go back immediately on his word by slinking off to his bedroom, abandoning Eddie to fight off whatever images linger alone in the dark.

Especially not when he hears the almost imperceptible noise Eddie lets out as he stands.

Steve eyes the floor speculatively, an idea already taking root in his head.

“Speaking of, why don’t I just–stay here tonight. Yeah?” he suggests, already tossing the pillow and throw from the chair in the corner on the ground, making himself a pallet.

Sure, it’s not the most comfortable sleeping position ever, but between chairs in the Wheelers’ basement and the cold, hard floor of a Russian elevator, Steve’s done a lot worse.

“C’mon, man–you don’t have to do that,” Eddie tries to protest.

Like Steve can’t clearly see how haggard he looks, peering down at Steve through the curtain of his hair, the end of one strand damp where he’s pulled it up to his mouth and chewed on it.

Steve waves him off. “It’s not a problem. I already told you, dude, Henderson stays over all the time–you think I’ve never had to have a floor sleepover when he was around? Get real.”

Eddie quirks an eyebrow at him.

“...Something tells me you’re not going anywhere even if I pull out my magnificent rhetorical skills from years of DMing and try to argue with you, huh?”

Steve thinks that really Eddie’s just proved his point, the fact that, since Steve mentioned staying, he’s recovered himself enough to be teasing all the more reason sticking around is clearly a good thing.

“Nope,” he answers, voice chipper as he shoots a finger gun at Eddie.

Eddie shakes his head ruefully. “Alright, didn’t think so.”

Without further ado, Steve flops himself gracelessly onto his makeshift bed for the night, the thick carpet beneath softening his landing.

“Night, Eddie.”

“Yeah. Yeah, night, Steve.”

Several long moments pass, and Steve listens, waiting to hear Eddie’s breathing evening out. It’s a sound he has become well acquainted with after many nights spent at the hospital, fitfully trying to sleep in the uncomfortable chair at Eddie’s bedside. When he fails to hear that telltale signal, Steve can’t help but stay tensed, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

He doesn’t have to wait long before Eddie breaks the silence.

“Steve?” Eddie calls out, voice wavering. “Could you–fuck, man, I just need…”

He trails off, becoming muffled as he probably buries his face in his hands again. Even in the darkness, as Steve sits up, he can see the way Eddie’s shoulders hitch with his uneven breathing.

Without a word, he abandons the pillow and blanket on the floor to climb back onto the bed. Eddie doesn’t even look up when Steve’s weight dips the mattress.

“Hey, man,” Steve hipchecks him, nudging him over gently, “move over.”

“Harrington…” Eddie drawls slowly, looking completely lost even as he does as requested. His eyes widen further when Steve climbs into the empty space he left behind. “What’re you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow as he leans back onto the pillows, getting comfortable.

“I know what it looks like, I just need some reassurance I’m not just hallucinating from blood loss or something here, man. Maybe you didn’t actually pull me, barely alive, out of that hellhole, and everything since then has all just been a really, really elaborate dream.”

Steve laughs, jostling his shoulder slightly.

“You’re not hallucinating.”

Eddie continues to stare at him in silent disbelief, causing Steve to sigh and sit up.

“Look, man, I–I get it, okay? All this, afterwards…sometimes it helps, just…being together. Close by, you know?”

Steve had had Nancy and the pretense of normalcy after the first go around, though that had all quickly gone to hell.

And the second time, when the kids truly were still kids, not the tiny adults they were fast becoming, there had been Dustin. The night after their second showdown, they’d slept side-by-side on their own makeshift palate on Joyce Byers’ living room floor, the other munchkins all scattered around them and Steve’s hand ruffled in Dustin’s hair, just the reassurance that he was there safe and comforting.

It was the best Steve had slept in almost a year.

And then, after the third time, there had been Robin. Filling up his parents’ empty house with laughter, movie marathons and impromptu sleepovers. Robin crawling into his bed in the middle of the night because she didn’t want to sleep alone in the echoing walls of Casa de Harrington, the two of them kicking each other like two giggling preteens until they fell asleep.

So, yeah. Together, in Steve’s many years of experience, was undeniably better.

“Besides, this way I can check and make sure you don’t actually bleed out in the middle of the night.”

“...If you say so,” Eddie says dubiously, but he doesn’t argue any further, which Steve counts as a win. He’s learned to take them where he can get them, these days.

But even after his agreement, Eddie’s restlessness is transparent. He fidgets beside Steve–drumming his fingers, squirming in the sheets as though trying to get comfortable, and eventually rolling half onto his side so that he’s facing away from Steve entirely. As Steve peers curiously at the outline of his shoulders, he realizes Eddie is still trembling, just a little.

His heart gives a painful kick in his chest.

“Here, just–” Steve turns until he’s lined up along Eddie’s back and then wraps a hand around his waist, pulling him back against him.

Eddie’s fidgeting stops immediately as he freezes in Steve’s arms.

“How’s that?” he asks into the waves of Eddie’s hair brushing against his face. “Better?”

“Uh.”

The hesitation in Eddie’s voice makes Steve really wish he could see his face, get a better read on the situation. Eddie’s so damn expressive, he might as well be the poster boy for “heart on his sleeve” as a phrase.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

“Are you totally weirded out?” Steve asks, trying to keep his voice casual. “If you want me to, like, stop, you can just…tell me, you know.”

“No,” Eddie laughs, his head dipping downwards, “no, man, it’s…it’s definitely not that. I’m just trying to reconcile several shifting pieces of my world outlook into place all at once.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Eddie turns, then, tipping over onto his back again so he can stare at Steve in disbelief. Steve doesn’t loosen his hold on his waist.

“Steve Harrington. Is in my bed. Spooning me,” Eddie raises his eyebrows at him. “None of that strikes you as weird?”

“I’m not spooning you now,” Steve points out. “You turned around.”

“Dude!” Eddie smacks his shoulder, shaking his head, laughter in his voice. They’re close enough his hair tickles Steve’s face as it whips around them.

“And, no, not really,” Steve shrugs. “Probably doesn’t even rank in the top ten weirdest things I’ve done in the past three years.”

“I mean…after the shit I’ve seen? I don’t doubt that, dude.”

But Eddie stares at him for a long beat after he admits it, eyes bright and brows drawn. There’s an expression, on his face, like he’d like to crack Steve open and see how his gears work, understand him from the inside out.

Plenty of people have looked at Steve like they wanted him. Steve’s not sure anyone has ever looked at him like this before, though.

The comforter has fallen down around Eddie’s waist, the shirt Steve had lent him riding up, exposing the pale line of his stomach. The worst of the wounds are still covered in bandages, the stitching hidden underneath them, but a patch of fresh, purple scarring spills out from the stark white gauze.

That’s the only real explanation that Steve has, for what he decides to break the sudden, loaded silence with.

(Plus maybe, just maybe, it’s one way of giving Eddie a part of himself, one jigsaw piece in the puzzle those bright brown eyes seem eager to solve.)

“You know, Nancy has a scar on her palm.”

When Eddie’s face turns towards his on the pillow, shooting him a puzzled look, he keeps going.

“Here, like this,” Steve tries to sound nonchalant as he takes Eddie’s hand, drags a finger gently across it. He’s not sure how much he’s succeeded, seeing the way the furrow of Eddie’s brow deepens in the low light. “And it’s…from the first time, with the demogorgon? Nancy and Jonathan, they–they lured it out together, and they’ve got the matching scars to prove it. She explained it to me, later, what happened.”

“I mean…that sounds like a gnarly war wound,” Eddie observes hesitantly. Then, his lips tug into a lopsided smile. “Not as impressive as a missing nipple, of course, but, you know–not everybody can be as badass as me.”

“Shut up, dude,” Steve scoffs, trying to bite back his own smile as he very gently jostles Eddie’s arm.

“What I’m trying to say, Harrington, is–I’m not really sure why you’re telling me this now?”

“I was getting to it, Eds. Sheesh, when it comes to patience, you're as bad as the munchkins.”

Eddie inclines his head for Steve to continue, not even bothering to hide his amusement. “You have my sincerest apologies for interrupting, Stevie. Please–carry on, my liege.”

“Thank you,” Steve says snippily, partially out of habit, and partially because returning to the topic at hand is making him a little nervous. “So, like I was saying–Jonathan and Nance, they’ve got these matching marks on their hands, right? And, after they got back together–not to sound like a stalker, or anything, for the record this was when we would hang out sometimes–but more than once I would…I would catch them, just. Doing this thing where they pressed their palms together, like this.”

He demonstrates, spreading his hand out so his and Eddie’s hands line up together perfectly, Steve’s own longer fingers inching out over the tips of Eddie’s own.

“I don’t think they ever realized I noticed. But I always knew, when they did it, they were comparing their–what did you call them?–their matching war wounds. Like they carried this secret little thing that would always tie them together, no matter what happened. And I’m not gonna pretend I wasn’t jealous, at first, but even then, I always thought it was…nice. The thought of having somebody who would always be connected to you, that way, where you could never really erase what you’d been through together.”

A long beat of silence passes between them, him and Eddie staring at each other in the moonlight. Steve hopes, desperately, that maybe some part of what he’s trying to work up to saying is getting through.

“That is…incredibly morbid. Especially for you, Harrington,” Eddie notes finally, a corner of his mouth ticking up in amusement.

Steve huffs out a breath, beginning to pull his hand away, “Whatever, man, if you’re just gonna make fun, forget I said any–”

“Shit, no no no, dude!” Eddie’s arm flies out, gripping Steve tightly around the wrist, not letting him slink away. “I’m sorry, Stevie, I–that’s not what I meant. I do, I do get what you’re saying. Like you said, scars like that–they work like a symbol, that you’ve been through some tough shit together, side by side, and made it out the other end alive. I totally fucking get it, dude. And against all instincts, I do think it’s pretty romantic, in an absolutely metal sorta way. That’s why I said it like that. Just didn’t expect your romantic side to come with so much edge, Stevie boy.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve lets out a dry huff, “almost dying about a hundred times will do that to a person.”

“Yeah, I guess it will. I’m, uh. Still not completely clear about what Wheeler and Byers’ big epic love story has to do with us, though?” Eddie’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “Unless…you’re here to wallow? In which case–I mean, fair enough. Wallow away, my good sir. You’ve more than earned it.”

“It’s not that,” Steve insists, even as he shrugs his shoulders, slightly conceding the point. “I mean, sure, with Nancy…I really thought she was it for me, once upon a time. And so when I saw what she had, with Jonathan–it hurt. Because it was her, of course, but also…because I wanted that with someone, as twisted as it maybe sounds. I’d gone through hell and back, too, and all I got was that nail bat and a bunch of mouthy kids to look out for.”

Eddie lets out a bark of laughter, and Steve grins back at him.

“Not that I’m complaining, or anything. I mean, I got Robin, too, and I don’t know what I’d do without her, or the hellions, for that matter. But, I–”

Deliberately, he tugs up his own shirt, shifting until he’s pressing carefully against Eddie’s side. Their matching bandages brush, an identical swath of white in the darkness, tangled scars seeming to almost curl together. It’s hard, in that moment, to tell where one of them ends and the other begins.

“I just–never thought I’d have anybody else to match with. That’s all.”

“But–now you do?” Eddie says slowly, something cautious in his voice.

“Well, yeah,” Steve shrugs, the corner of his mouth curving upwards in a tentative half-smile. “Now I’ve got you.”

“...You got me,” Eddie agrees quietly, almost like he’s afraid to speak that part out loud. “Dragged me out of hell and everything, Harrington. No return receipt after all that so…don’t really think there’s any getting rid of me now, even if you wanted to.”

“Good,” Steve says curtly, with a sharp, certain nod of his head, leaving no room for any creeping doubts. “Like I said, Munson, I’ve been waiting on this for a while, so you don’t get to run out on me now.”

Eddie shakes his head again, lips curling in bemusement.

“You are something else entirely, Steve Harrington,” he admits. “Full of surprises.”

“Good ones?” Steve asks, suddenly self-conscious.

Eddie tilts his head back and forth, as though he’s considering.

(Later, he will tease Steve about it mercilessly.

“Was that the infamous Harrington charm at work? Bet you tell that one to all the boys you lure into your bed, seduce them with tales of matching battle wounds connecting you like a pair of fated lovers.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Eds,” Steve will counter with that same sincerity that always sends Eddie blushing, “cuz I’ve never said anything like that before. Not to anybody. Not before you.”)

But, for now, it takes only a moment for Eddie’s face to dissolve into a warm smile. Reaching over, he tangles his fingers with Steve’s again, tugging their interlaced hands up to rest against one of the scarred patches stretching across his belly.

The skin feels smooth under Steve’s hand. For a moment, he wonders how it would feel, to press his lips there.

“Yeah,” Eddie answers, eyes sparkling with so many promises of the future, for now left unsaid. “Yeah, I’d say pretty good so far.”

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #my writing #my stuff #my things #me coming at you with yet another spin on an established steddie trope? it's more likely than you think

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tarjapearce · 3 months

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Chapter 6: But Chaos Clings Within

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Mild depictions of violence, emotional distress, mentions of mental illness, mentions of meds during pregnancies, graphic depictions of panic attacks, comfort towards the end, a squeeze of character background. Sexual language, Character study. No Proofread.

Summary: Just when things couldn't go worst, Miguel proves you wrong.

A/N: I do not condone toxic relationships or behaviors, much less encourage them. English is not my main so excuse any typos c:

Sorry for the wait, finally got the time to get this out :'). Internship is eating my soul. Feedback much appreciated ❤️. Enjoy!

Miguel O'Hara. Lab technician from the research department. Successful scientist, the best of his generation, the million dollar brain, as Sully had called him once, married to science, hard working man-

His calloused pads pinched the bridge of his nose.

And a cheater.

A deep exhale heaved through his already rigid nose, muscles hardening from the tension that always held an obsessed grip on his body. Like a ghost, permanent, silent and always manifesting in the least proper moments.

A liar,

He pulled the keys out from the slot, and grabbed in a single hand the stacked and unused boxes on the passenger's seat. Hoarding wasn't in his traits, as he'd rather to invest in things that nurtured his self or shut Dana up, like the ring she tossed on his chest after the elephant popped in the parking lot.

Hollow-hearted lover

This would be his last time entering the place that had been his shared home for the past four and a half years. His apartment judged him with it's silence, glaring his way from every ivory and smooth wall he walked by. Sneering at his life choices with minor inconveniences, that only added to his piled up and ever heavy stress load.

He walked towards the elevator, knowing by heart the buttons he needed to press. Moving towards the turns and angles he needed, to reach his soon long gone home.

Of course lights would be on, the new owner was already making some impromptu renovations in the trampled and spat on love nest. His keys, another thing he'd have to surrender later, were pushed inside the doorknob, to then open past the gates he always made sure to double lock before sleeping.

Dana's voice filled in the living room, followed by another he knew too well by the many times she'd welcomed him at Christmas gatherings. Blanca. Her older sister.

And a reluctant daddy.

The women stopped their talk as Miguel peeked over the door, hulking frame swallowing the narrow hall connecting to the jasmine smelling living room. There was no effusive greeting this time. No welcome home hugs, nothing but silence and an bungled up smile his way from Blanca.

The woman knew better than anyone that neither Miguel or Dana were perfect. Innocently mistaking the dreadful silence and tension between as another couple quarrel.

Does she knows?

Her demureness didn't give any hints that she actually did. And it was enough for him. He wasn't in his nines to hear another hysteric fit of how much of a coward he was, or how the consequences would be out there to get him sooner or later.

Another Tyler Stone.

"Gotta go"

She hugged Dana, and then him.

"Hope everything gets better soon." She'd mumbled through whispers.

The eldest of the D'Angelo siblings spoke with a sympathetic smile before leaving for the night. Almost running in her way out to avoid being used, as usual, as a mediator.

The door clicked quietly, and it was Dana's turn to heave a tired and languid breath, yet she didn't speak. Instead, she went over the kitchen to prepare some tea.

It was more than enough cue for him to mind his business and pack away the last bits of his belongings.

Some work tools, books, diplomas and the last bits of his clothes. To his surprise, they were neatly arranged and folded in a bag.

Eyes darted towards the kitchen where Dana was. Unbothered, focused on selecting the perfect mug for her comfort drink, ignoring his existence.

It didn't feel too different when they had a fight. The aftermaths were either them lying naked, breathless and laughing like loons or silence. It all depended on how bad the fight was and who displayed the ultimate final punch.

Miguel was usually the winner, leaving Dana in the corner of shame, nursing her defeat. But this time, she had won, a flawless and clean victory.

He hated it.

Cause it didn't matter how much he tried to come up with a comeback, there wasn't any. Her beating was too powerful to even fight back, leaving him on the floor, stunned but not wounded.

The boxes were filled in matter of minutes. The more he took away the more he realized his absence wasn't even acknowledged.

Dana had already filled in those spaces, and his things being removed only added a little mess in the neatly organized place if anything.

He wasn't missed.

In fact, the nattily folded clothes only reinforced his suspicion of Dana having her subtle way of hurrying his process, to get out of her home, her life and heart.

He took turns to fill in the void space of his car, accommodating the boxes and containers in a way to not damage anything fragile. One last box was everything that remained, reducing the countdown to mere minutes. He returned at the apartment to get his books.

Hefty pages easily carried in the cardboard recipient. As he lifted it like nothing, one of his thighs knocked over a golden, minimalistic and borderline abstract statuette next to the coffee table.

Dana's rushing steps made his scowl to deepen at the sudden accident.

"Goddammit, Miguel!"

It was her favorite. A tall figure cradling a small bundle. His best interpretation was a mother and his baby she had gotten in a gentrified decor shop, something that started after they talked about kids in the long run. She had gotten the supposed sacred and good luck figurine merely out of superstition.

And now it laid broken, in tiny shards on the floor, impossible to be glued back.

Dana brought the broom and the garbage collector to sweep off the pieces.

Miguel bent to pick up the bigger shards but Dana's stern voice stopped him

"Just leave it." She squeezed between him and the coffee table to pick up the pieces with such care it felt like picking herself up, "You've done enough." That's what she had been doing these past days.

Try and glue back all the pieces Miguel made sure to wham away with a sledgehammer.

"Dana"

Miguel's voice felt like a terse loofa on her tender skin, scrubbing raw and flushed red.

Blue gaze pinned him on the spot, a silent What from her. Sadly, they knew each other too well to ignore the subtle signs in the body language. Miguel crouched next to her, taking the rickety broom and plastic collector from her hands.

"Let me."

"Just leave, Miguel."

It was more a plead than anything. But stubborn was the main trait engraved into his brain ever since he was born.

"Dana, mi vida, look-"

"Miguel."

Her tone final. His hands rose up, defense in them.

"I'm sorry, ok?"

A shameless scoff escaped her pouty lips, while she retrieved the tools from his hands.

"The only thing you're sorry about is that you got caught, Miguel."

"I tried to correct-"

Dana took a sharp inhale before speaking, calmly. "You don't get it, do you?"

"I didn't think it would come to this, really. The condom-"

"Ugh! Stop. Stop!"

Dana had to take her distance from him, but he tried to reach out. A futile attempt as his ex fiancé slapped almost too gently his meaty palm. Away from her, disgusted and irked.

"You think I wanna hear how you fucked the receptionist? You should learn a thing or two from her-"

There it was. The bickering he loved, and the perfect chance to win her back. He didn't know if delusion hung high his brain today, but he was somehow convinced that Dana would tell him to stay. To fix everything. Delusion at it's finest.

"She was a slip-"

"And that slip and mistake ended up being pregnant and now she's trying to correct your fuck ups."

His brow quirked, suspicion rising at her sudden mellow talk.

"Didn't know you were her personal friend." His arms crossed while a hubristic smile stretched on his face. Seizing her with derision," Drank tea with her too?"

He was sure his eyes rolled so hard it hurt.

"My goodness. And to think I was about to marry you..."

Miguel snorted, cynic as usual "Stop acting surprised. Don't be a hypocrite you know how-."

"Hypocrite?! It's called empathy, jackass. Maybe you should learn it. While you're making fun of her and acting like we can go back to normal, she's desperate to find a solution to a problem you refuse to address or even acknowledge."

"For all I know, she could be lying and blame it on me," he tried to reason. But to no avail.

"You can't be serious right now. How messed up you must be to believe such thing when moments ago you admitted something happened?!"

Miguel's hands went on his hips, grounding himself to avoid invading her personal bubble more than he already was.

Another cloyed sigh from the brunette, "Unlike you, at least she's adult enough to face her problems and give the child for adoption."

A cold shudder came down his spine. Was his hearing right?

"Disculpa, qué?" He had to blink the frown and scowl that immediately took his countenance a hostage, but to no avail. It was another blow Dana gave him on the floor. Merciless as she was, she'd give him no truce.

"Adoption. A-D-O-P-T-"

"Fucking funny. The fuck you mean adoption?"

"I'm not here to amuse you."

And in truth he was far from being entertained. His brain had gone into an flout, ignoring his rationale, doused in glacial water that froze all attempt into logic thinking. Body buzzed with something ghastly, unable to be properly processed as it remained as a knot in his throat.

No. You couldn't.

"She can't be that stupid-"

"She's not stupid. She's assuming the consequences. As you should be!"

His hands no longer remained on him, too perturbed to stay still. They rubbed a bit too hard on his face, a twitch popped in his eye.

"No, she's... she's being fucking stupid. I.. I gave her-"

"A check to get rid of if. Yeah, I know." Dana crossed her arms while seizing his newly disturbed state. Steely nerves were something used to describe him, but this insecure and fearful man before her was everything but composed.

"She can't..." The ramble with himself continued, not really caring if Dana joined or not.

But you were keeping the child. Against his wishes.

How dared you?

His mind tried so hard that a painful pulsation echoed inside his skull. Hurting itself in the process of trying to understand why on earth would you keep a baby while having all the stakes at odds.

"She will. That's not up to you to decide."

"No, no, you don't understand, Dana. She can't have-"

"Well, too bad cause she's keepin-"

In a flurry of anger, his hands slapped the broom away from her grip, with such force she yelped, startled "Cállate!"

He roared and Dana recoiled, wide eyes in terror. It didn't matter how many times he clawed at his scalp, in an hopeless attempt to smear away the news. He heaved, realizing too late his mistake.

"I'm-"

"You need to leave."

His ex's voice was too calm, too kind, despite his aggression. It no longer held that bickering and holding a grudge like usual. It was devoid of all emotion, denying him the satisfaction of baiting and engaging into his game.

But he certainly wasn't there for a laugh anymore. Reality was always bitter and disappointing.

Heart jerked, menacing to splinter and rive at any second, fury flowed through his bloodstream, like a drug. Feeding his brain cortex with a much unrequited high of cortisol.

How could you? He gave you the money, yet you decided to do him dirty. Were you taking revenge? Without a doubt, and now you'd bring everything he had worked on so hard for, down and away.

In a place of a much higher shelf he, even with his height, could not reach. Like a timeout for his grown ass self.

But he wouldn't allow you. He refused to have his own story play on repeat once again.

He was set into finish this once and for all.

His anxiety had taken his nerves for an unwilling ride. Not only he had to wait for an extra hour for you to clock out, but he also had to face you once more.

Miguel was convinced that you had influenced his mind in such a way he was starting to believe you were his bad luck charm.

You were there in his revenge. You were there when Dana dumped him. He saw your sweet and fury-inducing face when the higher and richer bunch dejected his proposal in a subtle way it had given him hope. And somehow you still managed to get into Dana's head and root for you, when the woman usually remained on a neutral line or rather to not get involved at all, even if it somehow affected her personally.

You had tipped the balance completely on your favor. And now, the rotten cherry of his Frankenstein of cake, was knowing you were to take the pregnancy to a full term, when he had specifically told you to get rid of it.

His million dollar brain couldn't come up with a logical and quantifiable explanation as to why.

Why? Why? Why? So. many why's and little responses.

She wants to screw me over.

A malicious frown came to his lip, twitching ever slightly, temper already boiling underneath.

He wouldn't let you. Not when his career was taking a fly, the rejection was a little mishap, but nothing that he couldn't fix in a future.

He left for his car, ten minutes before the clock ticked at five pm. Your leaving hour. Silent and steadfast steps advanced towards the parking lot. Where everything had started. Where bad luck and unfortunate decisions from the universe begun to hunt him down.

Where his life took such a radical change for the worst. His nose flared upon the realization.

You brought the worst out of him.

Made him act out of his usual composed and calculating self. Forced him to conduct out of his pattern, taking impromptu choices wasn't who he was.

Lashing out when he'd keep his mouth shut. Behaving recklessly when he'd analyze the situation first, deeming it worthy to get involved or not. Saying things out of place when he knew he needed to remain shut, reaching to the points of threatening and mastering the arts of deceiving.

And now, you were forcing a role he didn't want, yet knew he had self imposed it. He knew the condom broke, he knew that he needed to change it.

But damned be his lust and hormones fluctuation, your deliciously sweet scent that somehow was engraved into his memory, the snug and tight cunt that had made his mind a puddle. And your fucking righteousness to accept your consequences that exposed him and his lies.

And once again, a reluctant daddy.

You've turned his life upside down. Everything he had carefully and methodically crafted, was now on the floor, ruined. Tarnished beyond repair. You were chaos.

He had given you the resources to end the problem, yet you spat on his face. Repaid him with aversion. And he was now set in finding out the answers he needed.

He saw your head peeking out from the elevator, going to your little and toy looking car. Pretty doll playing with danger.

Keys dangled, along a daisy shaped keychain in your hands, swaying back and forth at the rhythm of your steps.

The clinking drowned the heavy echoes of his leather covered feet, noticing him a little too late as he slammed your car's door shut, prowling over before you could enter.

"W-What the fuck?!"

Breath hitched, eyes widened in alarm as your skin crawled when meeting his accusing and dern gaze. Brain flaring with the dangers alarm, panic simmering on the slow burner.

You nearly stumbled while backing up as he stalked you.

"What's wrong with you?!" Your eyes closed as he yelled. Angry breath fanned on your shaky self.

For a second it wasn't Miguel that yelled, but Mother.

Body reacting with muscle memory by raising your arms up, trying to create more space between you both. Miguel was burning in wrath and it scorched you.

"I fucking gave you the chance to handle this, and you decide to keep it?!"

Hulking frame loomed over, reducing your existence even further as he slammed his closed fist in the hood of your car, startling you even more. He was violence.

"Get away from me!" With a brave push, your body made the great effort in pushing him off you. He barely budged, but his nose flared fumes, instead he took your wrists with a single hand and pulled you closer so you could properly have a piece of his mind.

"You don't understand, don't you?" You wriggled your hands and he bared his teeth, nearly colliding your foreheads together.

"You think I'm scared of you?!" But in truth, you were terrified beyond your wits. Heart wasn't beating, but pounding painfully the more you struggled.

"I don't want that child" He seethed through clenched teeth

"Let me go!"

"No te voy a permitir que me arruines la vida" (I won't allow you to ruin my life)

"I swear if you don't let me go, I'll scream!."

His grip loosened enough for you to wriggle your limbs away from his reach but he quickly clutched on you again, ignoring the the measly threat, desperate to find the answers you were reluctant to give him "Why are you keeping it?" He shook your body, "Why?!"

He panted in his frenzied state, and you whimpered at his manhandling. But the familiarity of violence in your life didn't break you instantly. Just made you irrational if anything.

"That's none of your business."

His chest puffed up, hand on your car's hood. He wasn't letting you go that easily. His gaze asserted dominance while stalking your own, moving his head along yours when you finally managed to free yourself from his grasp.

"Where is the check?"

"I tore it" His muscles tensed, nails digging in the fat of his hand, holding back a biting comeback, "Now get away from me."

Miguel heaved. Ire and frustration fighting over who gave the last punch. You were driving him insane, and not in the way he indulged.

"You must be the dumbest person I've known. All you had to do was to go to a fucking clinic and get yourself fixed! Why didn't you listen?!"

"Oh, fuck off!" This time the effort in your body as you pushed the wall of muscles was greater. A little light-headedness swooned over your sight. His eyes narrowed upon you exhaling through your mouth, repeatedly. Setting a pace while holding your lower back.

Physical exertion had you panting, but the emotional toll he had just put you through drained you completely. Like a vampire feeding off your sanity.

"You're sadly mistaken if you think I'll help with-"

"I'm not fucking asking you to. I've never asked and never fucking will!"

It was your time to roar while tears menaced to escape and roll down, "What makes you think I want anything that comes from you so you can throw it at my face later?"

Voice broke with a new found bravado that seeped through your panicked cracks, sick of him intimidating you, but your fight enticed him. He loved the sense of control he inflicted, it fuelled him and stroked his ego in such pleasant ways that had him folding.

"If you wanna play mommy, fine by me, but don't you dare saying I didn't try to help."

"Your fucking help was to hide your mistake before Dana found out" You gritted through teeth and he smirked, taunting even further

"You're not ready to be a mother-"

"Oh and you think you'd be a good father? You know shit about it." Vitriol dripped with every mouthful of your mind.

The two were too focused in marring each other as much as you could with words while struggling to keep afloat. He was drowning you, but you pulled him down. If you sunk, he was coming down too.

"That's precisely what I paid you for, pinche pendeja!" (Dumb bitch)

His tinge was everything but polite or caring. It didn't help that your head spun, you had to take a moment to scramble away to retch out behind a car. Slumping against the metallic structure for support.

His face squeezed into a disgusted expression at the noises you did. Concern and empathy wasn't in his vocabulary neither in his life. He just stood there, watching your hands curl as your body begged you to stop munching on his bait.

"Fuck off." you mumbled while wiping your lips with the back of your palm once the nausea subsided enough.

"What did you say?" His head tilted, vexed and amused you still had the energy to keep the bonfire alive and soaring. Just the way he liked. He was ready for round two.

"Fuck. Off."

It was the last thing you threw before scrambling to your car and locked the door. His bold hand already on the handle, doing his damnedest to pry it open. Hands banging on the now shaky glass, demanding for you to come out.

You drove away as he yelled something foreign.

The ambush had left you shaken to your very core, and just when you stopped on a red light, you finally noticed your trembling limbs, clenching on the steering wheel, anchoring to it.

Stop it stop it stop it-

Heart subdued into a claustrophobic beat within your ribcage, head spun, palpitations turned into powerful plows on your torso. Breath hitched, erratic, panicky.

No, no, no!

All you could see and hear was mommy dearest yelling, brain already sending the defense signals to your childish arms. Covering from the imminent physical lash out she'd provide after you accidentally dropped your drink in the floor.

What the fuck is wrong with you?!

Many things if honest. Eyes bleary with fat tears, panic rose the more your brain forced you to remember . Fresh belt marks burned into your arms and legs.

Nausea went rampant, but with the little strength you had, fingers moved to dial MJ's phone number between muffled sobs.

Chest rose and fell, into a frenzied breathing pattern, the unceasing honkings from the cars behind you drowned your terrified weeps. It didn't help your terrified state.

The distant voice of MJ kept ringing in your ears, imploring for you to reply, Your abdomen cramped, and your mouth screamed. Brain loaded with so much information, it was impossible to process properly.

The ringing in your ears sharpened, phone too heavy on your hands, lights came and go, dancing in such a hurried haze, forcing to clutch your chest.

A dark shadow hovered over the car's window, moving it's limbs frantically, lips moved but you couldn't hear a thing.

Mind too dazed with the past to be on the now. More shadows joined narrowing the space for light and reason, panic broke hell loose.

Throat burned at the shrill it gave out. Nails sunk on your skin. You had tried, but the shadows were stronger. And they engulfed you.

Sweetie

The muddled thoughts thrown together in a tiny space that begged for order.

Your name was called, lights danced before your eyes, following your irises movement, lids immediately covered them, a whine joined the messed up party.

"Hey, Babe."

You knew that voice. The Nyquil for your pained soul and berated brain. Soft fingers cupped your cheeks, gently turning your face upwards.

"It's me, MJ"

Touch toured to your hands, enveloping your limb in a warm embrace. Lungs exhaled a way too relaxed breath. Almost paused.

The milieu before you slowly took shape. Abstract lines and forms melding together into a red spot. It's angelic voice lured your liquified brain back to a solid mass, earning a lucid moment of thinking.

MJ. It was MJ.

"There you are" Her smile too tainted with sadness to pass as one of her genuine ones.

Your body buzzed with waves of something you couldn't pinpoint, but it felt good. Heavenly almost.

Your eyes blinked lazily, one after another, even your breathings were sluggish. Hand twitched, regaining the lost movement.

Body felt like a feather, weightless, suspended in air, floating, dreaming of silly things that definitely put an imperceptible smile in your lips. Too good to a washed up and spent you.

But the doctor's nasal voice brought you back within a few blinks. The chest hurt and itched, the urge to rub the pained area turned overwhelming, and that's when your senses came into clarity.

Finally able to discern between the abstract and intangibility from your secluded surroundings. White ceiling and walls, indistinct voices playing in the background.

Machines beeped, monitoring your heart, and so many other things you couldn't swot on even if you tried to. The stench of chemicals and sterile air permeated your tired lungs.

Phones rang unceasingly somewhere in the ostracised cubicle, fenced with a plastic curtain that separated you from the rest. Concealing your panic from prying stares. Mouth could be mistaken for the Sahara desert due the arid weather inside your crevice, swallowing was painful.

But not as painful at the look in Mary Jane gorgeous eyes.

"Hey"

She whispered as her hand squeezed tight enough for you to know she was there. That hwr presence wasn't a dream. A tired and meek hum rumbled in your throat, acknowledging her.

"Welcome back."

Her warm fingers left you for a moment, skin already missing her comfort, as yours lacked temperature, and even so in a clumsy attempt to raise your hand, you realized a bit too late that, your wrist were restrained on each side of the automated bed.

MJ disappeared for a moment to bring you a tall glass of water. She pressed a button and the bed's frame instantly bent smoothly to rise your torso upwards, transitioning your body into a lax sitting position.

Leaden legs by instinct spreaded a bit more at the uncomfortable pressure on your lower belly.

"Here." MJ brought the glass to your lips and poured gently the vital liquid, quenching slowly but surely the thirst you were oppressed into.

An elder man with salt and pepper hair entered your cubicle with a clipboard in hands, examining your state with a brief quizzical and medical stare.

"Hello! Sorry you wake up like that, but we had to sedate you. You were hurting yourself. "

It now explained the delicious high you didn't want to leave from.

"The baby is fine."

The baby. The creature you grew inside the now polluted guts, suffered no damage. But you had received all the aftermath. And something you had truly forgotten about.

People had left their cars, to certainly give you a piece of mind, but their approach changed drastically upon watching you crying, screaming and fainting. In that order.

Someone had called an ambulance as MJ bolted to your location. By the time the ambulance came, you were quanked and unconscious to recall anything.

MJ sat next to you as Mayday laid in her arms, tired, rosy mouth ajar, safe. Like she should. Like any child should.

None of you dared to speak, she knew you'd reach out when needed. And what you required was rest.

"It's alright, I'm right here."

The doctor called you by your name softly, explaining.

"Is there anyone in your family with mental illnesses?"

"My..." throat rasped, weak and broken words came out. You tried again after clearing the windpipe with a cough.

"My mother. All I know is that she had this Post-partum, uh... Psy..."

Eyes squinted, trying to remember the name.

"Post-partum Psychosis?"

"That thing."

A vehement nod from you.

"This gets a bit trickier then. You see. Right off the start, and I apologize for the sudden news. This will be a complicated pregnancy."

Shit...

MJ's face sobered, but her hand gripping yours never faltered.

"Complicated as in delivery or..." MJ inquired.

"The size of the baby, and the environmental stress only adds more weight to this. You're near the twelve weeks, and even so, passing them doesn't guarantee your baby's safety."

Your eyes squinted, confused. "Meaning?"

"The first trimester of the pregnancy is the most difficult and dangerous. Miscarriage is a higher risk."

You swallowed, hard. Free fingers crumpled the sheets underneath them.

"And I don't know what happened before you were brought here, but it was severe enough to trigger a panic attack. We had to sedate you for a bit so we could run some tests."

"Is she able to leave soon?"

"Until tomorrow. We have to monitor you and the baby responses to meds."

Fuck me.

"Meds?" The word familiar enough to recall those forbidden remembrances you always tried hard to bury for good.

"Zoloft. We still debating on it. It's safe, so don't worry. How often does these attacks happen?" routine questions really.

"It was the first one in months. The first while pregnant actually."

The doctor scribbled in the clipboard while nodding to then release your sore wrist from their confinements. A little bruising forming in them in the shape of fingers.

"Still it's an extra precaution we need to take. And some vitamins and minerals you need. Some of your readings came low, so to minimize the risk of miscarriage, I suggest you to seek a less stress inducing environment."

"I see."

In truth, you stopped paying attention after the last bit.

How and when on earth you'd find a new job in such short amount of time? Were the meds expensive?, Did your insurance even covered them or this barbed joke your body pulled out flawlessly?

Hospital night stays weren't cheap, and dread only slithered towards your head, constricting your brain in a myriad of questions that fought to be wondered first.

But one thing was certain. You needed rest and a new job. Since raise was out of the question. The doctor left, and you felt Mary Jane's burning oggling on your weakened frame.

"What happened?"

A simple yet complicated question. Reluctance once again showed up in your lips, sealing them momentarily.

"I need to know what's going on to help you"

"MJ..."

"I'm worried about you."

"I know..." Head hung, defeated, "I'm so sorry for being a burden, you were probably busy and-"

Your best friend chided your name, like she'd scold her own child.

"Darling, We've know each other for what? Five? Six years now?"

"Six when I pass the first trimester"

She chuckled, "Almost six years knowing our deepest secrets and you believe you're a burden for me. Don't be ridiculous."

Her soft hand squeezed yours tighter.

"You'd never be a burden for me, alright? I just wanna know what happened."

Her ever honest and see-through peer revealed nothing but unalloyed concern and care.

"Miguel happened." You heaved.

Her honeyed and caring look instantly hardened at the name.

"What did he do?"

"He found out somehow that I'd give the baby for adoption. And he didn't like it. Ambushed me in the parking lot and-"

"I need you to stop right there, dear. cause if you keep talking I'll call Alchemax myself and will report him for harassment."

"It wouldn't matter. He's like a god in there."

"And still, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. And that man, is going down for sure."

It surprised you to see such viciousness in MJ's usual demure demeanor. Even though your only wish was to be left alone, deep down you hoped that Miguel reaped what he had sown.

And to your luck, universe was listening your heart's whims for once.

Taglist:

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#t writes✨#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara angst #miguel angst #miguel x you #Of Flowers and Hummingbirds

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 1 month

Text

To Warm You Up

Natasha Romanoff x GN!Reader

Summary: A snowy day means a good book, warm drinks, and cuddles

Word count: 704

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff

A/N: I wrote this last night while my sleep meds kicked in. I used the prompt, 'bring you a hot drink'

It was quiet. The snow fell outside, watching the flakes dance every so often as you looked up from your book. It had been snowing all morning, and so you felt it was the perfect day to stay curled up in bed. Finally, you got the chance to read through a book you'd recently purchased. Your Maine coon, Dumpling, curled up by your feet.

You smiled content in how your day was going so far. The only thing missing was your girlfriend, Natasha Romanoff, she had gotten up early this morning and had occupied herself in her office with work since the snow kept her from going to the office. You hadn't heard from her all morning and now as early afternoon was about to turn to late afternoon you heard movement. You assumed Natasha had gotten up to grab herself something to eat. Making you remember you hadn't eaten yet. Your stomach growling at the realization. You didn't want to move though. You had become invested in your book and Dumpling had moved himself to your thighs, sprawling out across them.

Just as you finished up a chapter Natasha came through the threshold of your bedroom, tray in hand. Her red hair loose, falling over her shoulders in waves. A smile on her face when your eyes met as she got up on the bed with the tray. She'd made you a sandwich; turkey and cheese, a small pile of chips next to it and your favorite mug filled with hot chocolate. You could smell the peppermint and the two cinnamon sticks poking out gave away that she made it exactly how you like it.

“Oh moya lyubov. You didn't have to do this.” You set your book down on the side table before cupping her cheek. She leans into your touch. The two of you had been together for years. You knew everything about the other.

The Natasha you had met years ago who had defected from Russia who was so closely guarded. The Russian who was cold and calculated in every move she made. The Russian who when you first met was assigned to you and Clint. The Russian who put every wall up, used every sweet little lie with you and you who called her bluff everytime. She'd been put with you for one reason. You could tell when people lie. So really in the end she had no choice, but to tell the truth which terrified the red head.

“I wanted to. I hadn't heard you move since your trip to the bathroom this morning.” She raised an eyebrow at you, making you smile.

“Yeah I haven't. I got engrossed in my book. I'm already a little more than half way through!” Natasha could hear the excitement oozing from your voice. How could she not love you who only ever showed her love and kindness? You who would listen to her ramblings after nightmares. You who when she needed to be handcuffed to the bed to sleep offered your hand instead. You who offered a place when she had nothing and noone.

Some might think Natasha couldn't possibly settle down, but here she was with you as the snow fell outside. You picked up the mug, giving it a few blows before taking the first sip. The hot liquid falling down your throat and warming you instantly. You can't help the small ‘Mmmm’ that pushes up your throat, eyes closed. The mug warming your hands that you hadn't realized had gone cold as they tended to do, especially in the winter.

You talked with Natasha as you ate, catching up on her day and how work was going. She'd been writing reports and working on Intel the young Avengers had picked up on. You moved the empty tray aside, pulling Natasha against you. She always clung so tightly as if you'd disappear if she didn't hold you that way. She'd always been like this. You tried breaking the habit early on, but it never worked. Now it is something you look forward to, like a weighted blanket or stuffed animal. Natasha brought you comfort on such a level and in such a way you know no one else could compare.

#ley writes #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #natasha romanoff x gn!reader

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gyuvision · 3 months

Text

goodnight ricky

wc ; 1k - pairing ; ricky shen x fem reader

summary ; before your roommate left she promised she’d find you a replacement. 3 years later she never did, until now, leaving you as confused as ever while you looked at the 6ft male sitting in your room.

contains -> fluff/slight angst

you came back late, having class at a top (and painfully competitive) med school plus the late shift at the local coffee shop. you were tired especially during exams. all you wanted was to stay in your bed and read a book, or sleep for the rest of the night. however you pleased.

so naturally being that exhausted you were absolutely not expecting the man sitting in your desk, drawing towards the conclusion that you were hallucinating and that maybe sleep sounded like a better idea than a book.

“someone told me to wait for you here”

“what?”

“you know, your roommate?”

oh. right.

your roommate was your best friend. you were inseparable, shared the same dreams, got into the same college together.

but everything changed. she got a boyfriend, and suddenly your future wasn’t as intertwined as you originally planned it to be.

they broke up and she realized she wasn’t sure what she wanted. everything about her had changed and your schedule almost never lined up because of how many times she changed it for her ex.

so, she cut ties, peacefully. she explained she no longer wanted the same thing as you and left but promised to visit soon and that she’d find someone to take her place because she knew how much you hated being on your own.

guess that explained why the man (who you later knew as shen quanrui) was waiting for you, in the same spot she always waited for you to come home.

“its been.. 2 years since she left. how could you have found me when she couldn’t even shoot a text?”

“unbeknownst you, you mean a great deal to her more than you seem to think you do. i was her partner in art school before we had graduated, and she sent me here. she knows how you are, with your life plan laid out in front of you, for you. she knows you’d still live here even after almost 3 years. she knows you’d end up getting into med school after college. you’re not that unpredictable jung y/n.”

“so i’ve been prepared all my life, and what about it? i don’t march towards things without a plan. and how could you address me by my full name when i don’t even know yours?”

“shen quanrui.”

“shim what?” “shen. quan. rui. shen quanrui. its not that hard.”

“so you’re not korean?” “obviously not. i’m chinese.”

“can you say your name one more time?”

“my god. you can just call me ricky.”

“lovelicky.” “what?” “nothing.”

“i brought back food. it was supposed to be a snack for me but i guess you can have it now that i know i’ll be accommodating for two from this point on.”

“thanks. but uh- can we just go to sleep?” ricky asked, moving from your desk to sit on your twin bed.

“what? this is a two person flat. go sleep in her old room.”

“uh- i would, assuming she left behind her bed. but you kind of boarded up her room and i’m not looking to take it down at midnight on a thursday.”

“oh. i guess you’re right. i forgot about that. i just never assumed she’d actually send someone to me so i didn’t want to look at everything she left behind.”

ricky shrugged and laid down on one side of your bed, while he let you climb into the side touching the wall. since when was he wearing pajamas?..

“isnt this weird?” you muttered.

“not really.”

“i just met you.”

“your couch looks stiff as fuck and i’m not sleeping on the floor.”

right. you had a couch.. maybe med school is taking a toll on your memory. you feel like your frontal lobe is deteriorating.

ricky watched as you reached for a book, before he quickly grabbed your hand and set it back down on the shelf above the bed.

“no. sleep. you have school then the night shift at the cafe.”

“how did you-” “you leave your schedule framed on your fridge.” “right..”

“goodnight y/n.”

“okay. goodnight ricky.”

#gyuvision #gyuvision - zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 smut #zerobaseone x reader #ricky x reader #ricky smut #shen quanrui x reader #zb1 fluff #zb1 ricky #zb1 imagines #zerobaseone smut #zerobaseone

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spacebaby1 · 2 months

Text

Ghost of you (Law Trafalgar x Reader. ft Cora-San) Part 3

It was a sunny afternoon and most of the crew members were on the deck except your captain. He was locked in his room working on something, you kicked on the door before hearing his voice asking you to enter.

'Captain, why aren't you outside? Everyone is out in the deck.' He looked behind you out of the door then went back to whatever he was writing, 'I'm busy, did you need anything?'

'Actually, yeah' you begin playing with your hand, 'I need a favor to ask for, Captain.' He raised a brow turning to you, 'a favor? What for?'

You nervously chuckled, 'uh, I want to go somewhere, an island.'

'An island? Is it where we need to be heading you mean? I ch-'

'No, it's for my research, the Minion island.' You saw his face change experience in matter of seconds before he took a deep breath and spoke, 'W-what for? I can help you if it's med-'

'No! It's uhm, well, it's personal research and I was wondering if you can let me go there for a few weeks?'

He stood up, 'alone?' You nodded. He sighed, 'I don't know, I don't want you to get in danger. Let me come with you, or we can stop by Mi-m- that island for as long as you want and we can leave when your research is over? Hum? That's okay with you?'

You smiled wide and jumped to hug him, 'Thank you thank you thank you Captain! I promise I will try to finish the work as fast as I can.' You let go of him and he watched you leave with a small smile on his face that dropped the moment he realised he's been smiling.

The crew didn't mind the few weeks break from the sailing however the cold is what they minded, and you were only excited to start your search for that devil fruit that will bring Cora-San back. You had figured out the speel that goes with the powers of the devil fruit to revive someone back from dead; it was a hard job but you wanted to do it for your captain.

You have arrived by nigh time, luckily finding a small Inn to crash for the night away from the cold. You were still reading a book when you noticed that Law left his room and was heading somewhere. You decided to follow your captain and where was he going in the middle of the night without him knowing you are following him and followed him till he reached a tree with a small headstone under the tree. He sat there for a long while then left as you hid behind one of the walls.

After he was gone you walked towards the headstone and read the name on it "Rosinante Donquixote (Cora-San)". It's been few days since you saw Cora-San and you couldn't stop thinking how much Law missed him, it was heartbreaking to you that he couldn't see him when you can even though you didn't even know him as much as Law does, a cold hand rested on your head, patting your hair, 'You'll catch cold out here.' You smiled at the voice, 'then give me your fur coat, it looks comfy.'

Cora-San chuckled at that taking the seat next to you, he wished he could share his coat with you so you won't catch cold, 'what do dead people do when we visit their graves? Do they see us? Or are they long gone and it's just a body resting there?'

Cora-San raised a brow, 'you've got a huge mind there, Crybaby. I per-are you crying?'

You were. 'No, I'm not' you whipped your tears with the back of your sleeves. And Cora-San ruffled your hair making you chuckle. 'Come on kiddo, let's go I don't want you to catch cold and worry my Law.' You nodded and followed after him, 'Your Law, that's so cute!' Cora-San laughed at your comment.

#one peice #one piece headcanons #one piece imagine #angst #law trafalgar #trafalgar one piece #corazon and law #trafalgar law #one piece law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law #corazon ghost #one piece corazon

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promenadewithme · 5 months

Text

Happy Sappy Hormones

a/n: I know, I know. I've been away for a while. but I have my last final next week and after that I'm turning off med head and turning on writer mode! I've been watching criminal minds and I'm only on s2, but I already have this MASSIVE crush on Spencer Reid. So here's a little blurb I wrote recently. It's not proofread, so forgive me for any mistakes. Pairing: Spencer Read x profiler! you (no use of y/n) Warnings: slightly smutty, but nothing graphic. next chapter is going to be graphic af. um.. let me think... one bed trope, overnight stay at an in, pre-sex, all that tension (at least I aimed for it lol) and pining. Word Count: I have no idea

Am I sweating? I think I’m sweating. How the hell am I supposed to sleep next to this man? Fuck this stupid inn for having only one room with one bed. How cliche of them.

I peek at him and he’s looking up, head against the wall. Spencer swallows, throat bobbing up and down. He has such a nice profile, sharp nose and jawline, the most pronounced cheekbones you will ever see in real life, brows that always seem to be furrowed in thought, pillowy lips that I can’t help but picture against my own. And that hair… Those fluffy chocolate waves that beg for my fingers to mess up.

He’s soft but manly. Angelic heart with a dark mind.

I rake my eyes across his face once more and notice that a bit of a stubble has grown since this morning. What would that feel like brushing against my neck? Better yet, what would they feel like between my thighs while he-

Nope, too far. I have gone too far.

A blush creeps up my neck to my cheeks. Sleep is the last thing on my mind right now.

“Did you know that sharing a bed is actually good for your health?” he blurbs out, still looking at the ceiling.

So he’s uncomfortable too. Great.

“How so?” I ask, playing with the hem of my shirt.

“It releases serotonin, dopamine and oxytocin.” he states matter of factly.

“The golden trio of happy sappy hormones.” I quip.

“Something like that” he smirks, giving me a quick look before continuing. “Our pituitary glands transform serotonin into melatonin, which is the hormone that controls our sleep. That’s why cuddling in general makes you sleepy. Serotonin is also known as the ‘happy hormone’ because it’s a mood stabiliser, but it’s more than that. It regulates body temperature, improves memory and aids learning.”

I feel Spencer’s body slowly relax into the mattress as he speaks, so I spur him on.

“Is that so?” I say, trying to hide how much his intelligence affects me.

This man could open a book on gut microbiota, read it to me outloud and it would still be like dirty talk to me.

“Yes.” he smiles timidly and scooches closer, turning his body in my direction.

“What about dopamine?” I ask before I let my mind wander again.

“Dopamine is the reward chemical, it’s the rush you feel when you get a good grade or when you eat or sleep.And it’s um…” he pauses and starts playing with the sheets between us “It’s also released when you’re sexually attracted to someone.”

“Oh.” I say in almost a whisper. I must be releasing a lot of that lately.

“Yeah.” he says, taking the hem of my shirt from my grasp and toying with it himself. “It also causes our body's physiological reaction to attraction.”

His finger brushes against my stomach, leaving goosebumps in its wake and making my pulse skyrocket.

“Which reactions?” I ask but the air seems too shallow, there’s not enough oxygen in my lungs.

He finally looks at me and my breathing stops. His hazel eyes bore into mine like they can see my soul. I’m afraid he knows how much I want him, I’m afraid he’ll see how much I wish he would drift his hand further down until he reaches the part of me that wants him the most.

He lifts his hand to my face and trails a shaky finger down my cheek and neck before saying “Like blushing,” his hand trails softly down my arm and my skin pebbles up where he touched “Goosebumps,” he makes it to my wrist and presses down on my artery “quickened heartbeat,” he bows his head and kisses my hand softly, never taking his eyes from mine “the effect of dopamine is obsessive and almost drug-like, you can’t stay away from the person you love and you don’t want to either.”

I can’t breathe. I feel myself shifting closer to him and my attention is fully on his lips. Those lips that never stop moving and I never want them to. Except, right now, I want them moving against mine.

“What about oxytocin?” I whisper, forcing myself to look at his eyes, his gorgeous hazel eyes.

“The love hormone.” he mumbles, bringing his hand to my neck while his thumb strokes my cheek. “It’s released in mothers during labour and when in contact with their newborn, but also during sex.”

We are so close that I can see the faint freckles that dust his nose, I’d never noticed them before.

“Any benefits?” I ask, spreading my hands on his chest. He’s so warm.

His voice is low and husky when he answers.

“Lowers your blood pressure and cortisol levels,” his nose brushes against mine and I look at his lips again “reduces stress.”

“That’s um…” What was I saying again? His lips brush against mine once. Twice. “That’s nice.”

He dips down once more and captures my lips in a slow kiss, like he’s testing the waters. I sigh and my arms make their way around his neck. Spencer darts his tongue out and takes a quick swipe at my bottom lip, I let him in. When his tongue brushes against mine tentatively, his chest rumbles with his low groan and I sink into his arms.

He grabs my left leg and throws it over his hips so I’m straddling him. I feel his erection between my legs and moan into the kiss. My hands go up to his hair and his locks are even softer than I thought they would be.

I pull back only slightly “I think we’ve been very stressed lately.”

He nods and kisses me again before saying “Only benefits can come from this.”

“Yeah, we’re just taking care of our health, right?”

We stare at each other, panting in unison.

I shouldn’t do this, this will only complicate things. But how can I think of that when he’s looking at me like I’m the hottest woman on earth? How can I think this is wrong when I’ve wanted this for so long? When his soft hair is disheveled by my touch, his mouth swollen from my kiss, his pupils dilated with lust for me, making his hazel eyes dark.

Just once, I get the chance to do something for me, something that will make me feel good with someone that makes me feel good and seen and beautiful.

Fuck it.

I lick my lips and bring his face towards mine in the hottest kiss I have ever had.

--------

PROLOGUE HAD BEEN POSTED!

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds

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howlingday · 3 months

Text

Jaune Arc Is A Creep

Cardin: Ha! You stupid nerd! (Shoves Jaune) Reading books and shit!

Jaune: Laugh while you still can! You're the stronger one now, but some day, I'm going to grow up, and I'm going to teach myself how to make chloroform and knock you all out! Then I'll drag you into my basement and chain you to the walls! The first thing you'll see when you wake up is me, standing over you as your new god!

Jaune: AND THEN I'LL MAKE YOU WORSHIP ME IN WAYS NO GOD HAS BEFORE.

Cardin: ...

Ruby: (Bandaging him) And then what happened?

Jaune: (Sniffles) They beat me up and took my books~!

----------------------------------

Ruby: Fuck you guys! I'm going back out there and kicking their asses!

Jaune: No, Ruby! Vengeance protocol dictates that we should lay low after an attack and conserve our resources!

Ruby: Fuck the rules! They insulted us!

Jaune: Ruby, as a guy who gets his ass kicked so much he could be a professional, listen to me. The only thing we can do for now is survive!

Ruby: Oh, so I should just cower like you, should I? LIKE A LITTLE BITCH?!

Yang: (Pops Ruby in the head) As far as I can see, you're the only one acting like a little bitch here, Ruby. Now listen to what Jaune has to say.

Jaune: Thanks for sticking up for me, Yang!

Yang: Shut the hell up, Jaune! And you, Ruby Rose, open your mouth.

Ruby: Wha- (Bread shoved in, Gagging)

Jaune: Oh! Oh... Oh, wow... That's... That's kinda hot, Yang.

Yang: Eat, Ruby. Eat and build your strength.

Ruby: (Crying)

Jaune: Keep crying, Ruby. It'll make the bread taste like tears.

----------------------------------

Pyrrha: Jaune, I know this is tough, but... Is there a higher power you worship?

Jaune: I used to worship Monty Oum.

Pyrrha: Who's Monty Oum?

Jaune: THE GOD OF DEATH.

----------------------------------

Goodwitch: You there! Who the fuck are you?!

Jaune: Jaune Arc, sir!

Goodwitch: Why the fuck are you here, trainee?

Jaune: To become a huntsman, sir!

Goodwitch: That's bullshit! Look at you! I bet you play with dolls!

Jaune: Well, yes, but only for roleplay revenge fantasies, sir!

Goodwitch: Shut up, Banana-Slut!

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Blake: You can do it, Weiss. Just focus on your core when using the tether.

Jaune: Yeah, it's not too hard if you concentrate.

Weiss: Even you can do this, Arc? I know I'll regret asking this, but what's your secret?

Jaune: I, uh.... I kinda have a natural advantage with this skill.

Weiss: What do you mean?

Jaune: I, uh... I used to experiment a lot with auto-erotic asphyxiation.

Weiss: ...Just take me up the tether.

----------------------------------

Jaune: Oh! I also like to read!

Blake: Oh, really?

Jaune: Yup! For example, did you know that if you electrocute someone underwater, it'll leave no burn marks?

Blake: ...

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Jaune: So... I gave it a lot of thought, and I decided. I'm going to serve on the front lines.

Nora: What?! Why?! Jaune, seriously, you suck at everything you do!

Jaune: I know.

Nora: With your tactical brilliance, you could easily land a spot as an officer away from the battlefield!

Jaune: I know.

Nora: So why the hell are you coming to the front lines with us?!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: I WANT TO SEE DEATH.

----------------------------------

Ren: We're finally here, Jaune. We finally made it as huntsmen. Do you have any regrets?

Jaune: No. It was either this or med school.

Ren: I... wasn't aware you wanted to be a doctor. What was going to be your specialty?

Jaune: (Wide grin) EUTHANASIA.

----------------------------------

Coco: I'm open to suggestions.

Nora: Let's give all of our weapons to Ruby and have her use them to build a giant rifle-toting, sword-swinging mecha.

Coco: What is this, a fucking anime? No!

Blake: We could always give up and run away.

Coco: No!

Ruby: Let's play Arrowfell!

Coco: NO, GOD DAMMIT! NO! Does anyone have any good ideas?!

Ren: Jaune has one.

Coco: ...Dear god. Alright. How bad is it?

Jaune: This is an old revenge fantasy I used to reenact with dolls.

Yatsuhashi: Holy shit, this guy is fucked.

Jaune: In my most elaborate schemes, I'd pretend the dolls could see me before stabbing their eyes out and burning them alive.

Fox: ...Jaune, has anyone ever told you that you have an unhealthy obsession with ocular trauma?

Jaune: It's like closing the windows to the souls!

Cardin: You know, if we shoot out the Grimm eyes, we could finish them off without losing anyone.

Pyrrha: Jaune, you are the creepiest fucking guy I've ever met, but hey, that's not a bad plan.

----------------------------------

Nora: Jaune, can I ask you something?

Jaune: Sure!

Nora: This is going to sound stupid, but... Let's say I, hypothetically, have romantic feelings for a fake brother-

Jaune: You mean Ren?

Nora: Yeah, whatever. But let's say I acted on those feelings. Would it... Would it be wrong?

Jaune: Nora, why are you asking me about socially moral protocol?

Nora: Because you're the only one I can trust to not tell anyone. And even if you did, everyone would just assume you're being a creep again and I could deny everything.

Jaune: Wow, Nora. That's cold, dark, and manipulative genius.

Nora: I'm sorry, I just really need to know.

Jaune: I've never seen you in this light before.

Nora: Is it wrong?

Jaune: Hey, can I have a lock of your hair?

Nora: Answer my question, Jaune!

Jaune: Alright, alright! Look, the way I see it, I don't see anything wrong with your feelings, Nora. He wasn't really your family anyways, so even if you did incest-bang, it would've been fine.

Nora: It's not incest!

Jaune: I know, I know! I just prefer to think of it that way!

Nora: ...

Jaune: Bitch, don't even give me that look. You already KNEW what you were getting into asking me for advice!

----------------------------------

Marrow: General, wait!

Ironwood: God dammit, Wags, not now!

Marrow: General, Huntsman Ren and Pine along with Huntress Valkyrie are invaluable soldiers, and thus are completely expendable. But you should know that Huntsman Arc is said to be one of the most fucked up people on Remnant!

Jaune: (Thinking) No! They found my secret!.

Ironwood: Oh, really?

Jaune: Act normal- (Meow) NO, MISTER WHISKERS! NOT NOW!.

Ironwood: And just how fucked up are we talking?

Jaune: (Twitching hard) GET YOUR LITTLE CLAWS OUT OF MY EYES~!.

Marrow: Fucked up enough, some say, to rival even you, General.

Ironwood: ...To rival me, you say?

Ironwood: JAUNE ARC!

Jaune: MEOW!

Ironwood: Is what they say true?! Are you truly a fucked up little shit?!

Jaune: Well, I think I'm perfectly normal, but I may have a few desires and tendencies some may classify as... off?

Ironwood: ...Okay, Huntsman Arc. We're going to play a little game, and if you lose, the survival of both yourself and your friends over there, too!

Jaune: Sir, this is a horrendous abuse of authority-!

Ironwood: SILENCE!

Ironwood: Jaune Arc, I challenge you to a personal duel to the death! We shall fight with words to determine once and for all who is the most fucked up human being on the planet!

Jaune: (Huffs) Okay, this? I can do!

Jaune: I PLAY WITH HUMAN DOLLS!

Ironwood: I PLAY WITH HUMAN LIVES!

Jaune: I laugh at death!

Ironwood: I worship Salem on the weekends!

Jaune: SALEM! WORSHIPS! ME!

Ironwood: I lick tears off of orphans!

Jaune: I call arson a career!

Ironwood: I joined the military to watch people die!

Jaune: I celebrate living failure!

Ironwood: I submit to certain death!

Jaune: I harass the elderly!

Ironwood: I dip my soldiers with disease!

Jaune: I throw rocks at the homeless!

Ironwood: Oh yeah? Well, you wouldn't know anything about this because you're a virgin, but casualties are my favorite form of sexual foreplay! (Jaune stunned) YES! HAHAHA! Foolish child! You thought you could match wits with the worst of us and win?! You played the cards of a petulant boy, Jaune Arc, and now you and your little bitch friends will die!

Jaune: (Looks to his team)

Nora: (Thinking) You can do it, Jaune!.

Ren: (Thinking) There's no one I've ever met who's creeper than you!.

Jaune: You thought you were fighting a mere moral? You thought you could probe the darkness that is my mind?!.

Jaune: FOOL! I SHALL DROWN IN THE MAELSTROM OF MY NIGHTMARES! MY TENTACLES SHALL TWIST AND CONTORT YOUR THROAT AS I THROTTLE YOU WITH VISIONS OF HERMAPHRODITIC SUCCUBI AND VIOLENT! OEDIPEDAL! RAPE FANTASIES!

Jaune: I will take your cities! I will subjugate your children! I will rape and devour your armies! But you, only you shall survive, so that you may bear testament to my will and ultimate revengeance!

Atlas: ...

Vale: ...

Vacuo: ...

Mistral: ...

Salem: ...

#rwby #jaune arc #a slap on titan #james ironwood #marrow amin #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #cardin winchester #yang xiao long #fox alistair #coco adel #nora valkyrie #salem #yatsuhashi daichi #lie ren #pyrrha nikos #glynda goodwitch

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disabledprincesses · 2 years

Text

Why tf do we fold pjs? Oh no my shirt that literally only my stuffed animals and cat see will be wrinkly

Who exactly is going to stop me from putting my dirty clothes into a small childrens wagon to lug to the laundry room?

I feel like we really underestimate how much we can do sitting: fold? Wash dishes? Shower? Get ready in mirror? Clean? Cut up veggies?

Also no one has explained to me why i cant make my bed while still in it? Like even if I can only do 80% while in it, thats still 80%??

If i throw out all my tubber ware, and get a bunch of only one kind, I'll never have to look for lids. Same with socks!

Separating clothes by color is stupid.

We need less "I'm gonna stack these nicely here so they look nice" and more "I have 85 nice boxes from Joann fabrics, each one has things it in because the boxes hide the fucks I don't give. Socks go in here, papers i need go in here, candles over there, art supplies, pet stuff, meds, pants, books, blankets, makeup, pillows, etc."

Normalize crawling around on your floor to pick up things and tossing them over to the corner of the room closest to where they belong so you can then crawl over there and sit while putting them away.

Normalize screaming.

Why must we eat so many things that we do not like? If I like 5/400 veggies, guess what? Im gonna get so many vitamins from them and anything I'm missing I'm gonna get from other food groups! Its pretty unlikely that I'm missing a crap ton of vitamins when most veggies got 7/10 of the vitamins you need.

Normalize purposefully planning to do nothing at certain times of the day. Sorry I can't go to the park, I'm staring at my wall for 45 minutes at that time, today is the west wall :)

Why do I need to do anything for attention from my friends/partner, why can't I just tell someone I want attention and get my sim bar filled then and there?

All cardboard boxes are canvases waiting for the day.

Why do we even have large spoons in our houses anymore?? We always say we hate them and then we have like 20!!

Let go of the idea that anything is written in stone

#disability #disabled #spoonie #chronic illness #chronically ill #chronic pain #autism #actuallyautistic #aspie #actually aspie #actually adhd #adhd #mental health #chronic fatigue #depression #mental illness

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xxxbabyinatrenchcoatxxx · 7 months

Text

I love Andrew Minyard as a criminal justice major. Just imagine the possibilities that could happen!! He'd 100% write a paper about nature vs nurture that is about himself and Neil (only if you read between the lines can you tell that tho)

Oh man!! An idea is coming into my head as I think about this!!

Okay, okay, so imagine the following.

Andrew is in his The Serial Killer's Psyche class when he learns about the more recent recent killers, including The Baltimore Butcher.

He lowkey becomes fascinated with the whole thing.

(It's the knives)

And goes down a rabbit hole looking into anything and everything regarding the Wesninski family.

He learns that Nathan was married and had a son, Nathaniel, with a member of another known mafia family from across the Atlantic, Mary.

The son would be the perfect killing machine for these two.

But then he learns that Mary and Nathaniel died tragically in an unknown form.

"The family wants to keep their privacy in these hard times." The press says.

Despite Andrew researching for days (he even went to the library once!) He can't find any record of how they died, but their death certificates have the same time stamp on them so at least he knows they died at the same time.

After finding out as much as he can about the family, he is (and he would never admit this to anyone at all ever) solely on the side of the cops in believing that Nathan Wesninski is The Baltimore Butcher despite there not being enough evidence, etc etc.

Having learned all he could, he all but forgets about the Wesninski family.

Fast forward to the next semester when Kevin tells him they are going to Arizona because he found them a new striker.

As Neil is trying to catch his breath from Andrew hitting him, Andrew is suddenly excepiencing a new phenomenon to him "familiarity"

For some reason, this flight risk reminds him of someone, but he can't quite remember who.

This is new.

Not remembering something.

Is his memory failing him for the first time ever?

He blames it on his meds and moves on

Everytime he sees Neil after he moves to Palmetto, he has the same feeling.

Ever. Single. Time.

It is increasingly aggravating and intirely too intresting.

After weeks spent trying to remember who Neil reminded him of, filing through every person he's ever encountered, and Neil's skitish behavior, he decided that Neil must be a threat.

Why else would his instincts tell him not to trust Neil?

Why didn't he react to the Moriyamas coming south that fall?

Why couldn't he fucking remember where he knew Neil from???

His shell cracked a little bit and he decided on impulse that Neil was going to Eden's with them

Andrew was practically vibrating with rage by the end of that night.

"Who are you?" Andrew asked.

"Wha- I don't understand? I'm Neil?"

"No. I know you, but I've never seen you before." Andrew watched as Neil tensed, wondering what was running through the runners head.

"We don't know each other." Neil made as if to walk away, but he didn't make it far before he had to grab the wall to stabilize himself.

"I know you." Andrew said, grabbing his shoulder.

"No, you don't." Neil shoved him.

"Do you work for the Moriyamas?"

"You think I'm a mole?" Neil scoffed, but it was more slurred with the drugs in his system.

"You're something. And I know how to properly dispose of a body." Andrew said lowly, threatingly, putting both hands on either side of Neil, caging him him.

"So do I." Neil's voice was steady, and he shoved Andrew back as far as he could before taking off.

Neil feeds Andrew half-truths the next day at Wymacks, saying that he must have seen him on the street somewhere. He honestly had no idea why Andrew recognized him.

Andrew doesn't believe that, but he believes Neil's half-truths about his family and lets him go.

Eventually, the familiar feeling is exchanged with actual recognition, and the books continue on as normal

UNTIL

Andrew gets out of Easthaven and sees Neil with his blue eyes and Aubrun hair and brused face, and Andrew freezes for only a moment.

But for that moment, it's like a Christmas tree lighting up in Andrew's head.

Neurons firing and connecting dots he didn't know went to together.

Nathaniel Wesninski stood next to his family

Nathaniel Wesninski protected his family while he was in rehab

Nathaniel Wesninski has been alone with Kevin every night for the past 4 months

Nathaniel Wesninksi was a runaway

Nathaniel Wesninski was alive

Nathaniel Wesninski

Andrew doesn't know what to do with this information yet, so he does nothing

He goes about his decided itinerary for the day

He still doesn't know what to do until "I never understood why he liked knives."

Everyone else was thinking Riko, but Andrew was thinking Nathan.

He decides then and there that he's not going to say anything until Neil tells him.

Neil's "I'm Nathaniel" hits Andrew like a gut punch.

He already knew it but now it's confirmed.

When Neil goes missing, Andrew was the first to tell coach about Nathan's release from prison.

He persuades Coach (read: stares down repeating "Baltimore") to take them to Baltimore because that's where Neil is.

Books go on as normal

Life seemingly goes back to normal after summer break.

They start the new semester with significantly fewer worries, and Neil is figuring out his newfound freedom.

Andrew is in his Advanced Psychology class when Nathan Wesninski is brought up again.

The professor - fortunately for her sake - doesn't mention Neil or Nathaniel at all but assigned them an imaginative assignment

They are to pick a serial killer and study what is known about their at home life and write a paper about what it might be like to grow up in that kind of enviroment

Andrew was going to ignore this assignment, but Neil found out and thought the whole thing was hilarious.

Neil finds out that Andrew was entirely too fascinated by the Wesninski family.

"You liked me before you even met me."

Eventually, they decided that Andrew didn't have to write the paper.

"Mr. Minyard. It is your turn to present."

Andrew and Neil walk to the front.

"This was a single person assignment, Mr. Minyard."

"I think a first-hand account is better than anything I could have come up with. Don't you think?"

"First hand?"

"Hello Andrew's classmates. I'm Nathaniel Wesninski, but please call me Neil. Fair warning. If you ever call me Nathaniel, I will kill you."

They spend the rest of the class basically ragging on Nathan the entire time

#aftg #all for the game #andrew minyard #neil josten #the foxes #aftg neil #the foxhole court #andriel #the raven king #the kings men #aftg au #criminal justice major Andrew Minyard

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in1-nutshell · 5 months

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Your last stuff with teen buddy resonated with me deeply as I too am a gremlin who seeks joy from the misfortune I bring onto others🙏🙏🙏

Idk if I’m requesting properly or whatever but could you do something with a similar reader/buddy expect they kinda like record bits and pieces of sounds/the voices of others and remix them into little songs for fun? Funny human mixtape is something came to me in a prophesied fever dream🫶

also your work is so good, I’ve been lurking around quietly for a little while and it’s SO GOOD AHHHH!!! IM SCREAMING AND JUMPING OFF THE WALLS!!!!!!!

Buddy is always a little gremlin for silly little activities, especially when it comes to their friends. Let us see how a couple of noises out of context can do to some minibots!

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy records out of context sounds and noises and sics them on unsuspecting bots (Tailgate, Rewind and Swerve)

SFW, platonic, Human reader

MTMTE/LL

Tailgate

Tailgate was scared when he heard the unfamiliar sound of a strange melody coming from the dark end of the Lost Lights corridor. He was just walking back from Swerve to get Cyclonus from their habsuite when he heard the noise.

Eerre noise echos through the halls

“Who’s there?!”--Tailgate

BOOM!

“AAAAAHHHHHH! CYCLONUS!”--Tailgate

“Where’s the danger!?”--Cyclonus

“Ah! How did you get here?!”--Tailgate

“Enough talk Panic button! Who do I need to shoot!?”--Whirl

“How did any of you get here so fast?!”--Tailgate

Cyclonus and Whirl had materializing out of nothing ready to hurt whatever was bothering Tailgate.

Little feet are heard as the noise gets louder.

“We have you out numbered 3 to one monster!”--Whirl

“Show yourself!”--Cyclonus

“Cyclonus? Whirl? Tailgate?”--Buddy

“Buddy?! What are you doing here? There’s a monster—”--Tailgate

“Oh, no that’s just my new boombox. I got it at that flea market last stop. I’ve been trying to see how it works for about a good couple of minutes.”--Buddy

“… Can I still kill it?”--Whirl

“Whirl?!”—Buddy, Cyclonus and Tailgate

Rewind

He had a compilation of out context noises and sounds. When Buddy tells him that they have a plan to use them he is in. Together they make a little playlist of creepy noises and hook it up to the ship’s main intercom.

“You think this is a good idea?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Agreed.”

“… You want to push the button?”

“Yes, please.”

Everyone was on edge whenever a particular noise would stress. But the ship is saved by the minibot and Buddy’s moral compass.

“Alright. I think that’s enough.”--Rewind

“Yeah, it’s getting boring.”--Buddy

“You want to go find Domey for movie night?”--Rewind

“Yeah! Horror movie night!”--Buddy

Somewhere on the Lost Light

“Why am I getting the feeling that am in danger?”--Chromdome

Swerve

This one was on accident.

Buddy was trying to hear what their new compilation of eerie sound sounded like for the Halloween party.

But they just couldn’t hook up their device to their headphones.

“Hook up already!”--Buddy

Meanwhile at Swerve’s

“AAAAAHHHHHHHH!”--Swerve

What they didn’t know was that the device was instead paired with Serve’s speakers. Everyone was freaking out when the music suddenly turned into screams. Swerve, being the closest to the speaker fainted after the first few seconds.

Finally, after a bit Buddy is able to hear their playlist through their device.

“Hey guys I have the—where did everyone go?”--Buddy

Meanwhile at Rung’s there is a mile line for appointments.

Swerve is recovering in the Med bay.

And Rung now has more bots booked for an appointment and rumors fly around the ship being haunted goes around again.

#transformers #transformers x reader #idw mtmte #mtmte x reader #mtmte swerve #mtmte rewind #mtmte tailgate #maccadam #mtmte x platonic reader #human buddy

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copperbadge · 1 month

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Gotta keep you all updated on Robbie Williams' Instagram, and it turns out a lot of the comics he did that I've shown you guys across the last few months are now on exhibit in a museum, Pride and Self-Prejudice at the Moco in Amsterdam. And he appears to have shown up to the opening in a Canadian Tuxedo, which is just delightful.

[ID: Three images screenshotted from Robbie Williams' instagram. The first is a drawing of a disposable name badge which reads "Hello, I'm" and then written into the blank for the name, "Fully erect". The second image is of Robbie Williams in jeans and a denim jacket in front of one of his works, blown up to wall size, a series of speech bubbles about his anxious thoughts. The third is text that he posted along with the second image; transcript below.]

Transcript: Last night I went to see my exhibition before it opens to the public. I was overwhelmed with pride and gratitude. And honestly, if my meds didn't work so well, I would have shed a tear. While I was there I looked through the gift shop and there was a book with a quote from Virgil Abloh on it. It said "Everything I do is for the 17-year-old version of myself." My 17-year-old self right now is all aglow and wondering how the fuck I've done it. I just figuratively gave him a big hug.

#robbie williams #art world

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stllite · 1 year

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3am •°ˎˊ˗

chishiya shuntaro x gn!reader

word count 2.6k

summary 3am brings out the most vulnerable and real version of ourselves. on this particular night, you and chishiya unravel those parts of each other.

warnings mentions of parental issues, angsty, non borderland au

authors note had this idea after listening to my 3am playlist. i cant get chishiya/nijiro out of my mind fr. hope you guys enjoy this fic!

most of the world was asleep. the only light shining outside was from the moon, the stars, and some streets. slight, but there nevertheless.

in your case however, your desk and laptop screen also shining light. an unnatural and annoying light that was beginning to give you a headache.

it was about two-fifty in the morning — close to three. you and chishiya, who you’d consider a good friend in uni, were studying for your upcoming mid-term since the both of you were pre-med students.

it’s safe to say, you were stressed out. the topic you’d been learning looking like a completely different language the more you looked and attempted to learn it.

you huffed frustratingly, beginning to write in your notebook harshly and quickly. chishiya turned his attention from the textbook in front of him to you as you were making a lot of noises suggesting your stress.

“everything alright?”

at this point, chishiya was already prepared and confident for the exam. he stood by you however, because it seemed like you needed the company.

and the help.

you continued your harsh writing. “yeah, I’m fine.”

he shrugged, continuing back to his book and left you to your studying. or stabbing of your poor notebook.

your thoughts were everywhere else except where they really needed to be, going a million hours at once. the stress of this exam, intrusive thoughts of just quitting starting to enter your brain, and a random song in the background, banging in your head at once. you were tired.

maybe this is why i’m not processing all this information, you thought.

at that point, you about had it.

you turned off your desk light while standing up from your chair suddenly and made your way out of your room, chishiya’s eyebrows raising at your actions. he sighed, then followed you out.

when he made it to where you were, he saw you leaning against your kitchen counter with your head down in front of your coffee machine. the sound of it in the midst of pouring your third cup for the night, echoing throughout the silent apartment walls.

he stood there for a moment, not knowing what to do. hell, he didn’t know how to comfort anyone. weirdly, he wanted to comfort you.

you were always so bubbly — shy and introverted but outgoing when he got to know you. you cared a lot. probably too much for chishiya’s liking. you two were polar opposites but he didn’t mind. maybe, the universe put you two together for this sole reason.

“y/n?”

you picked up your head and stood up regularly, turning your body towards him. you didn’t say anything. you just looked at him blankly.

“too much coffee isn’t good for you.” he crossed his arms, leaning against the wall behind him and continued. “you should know that, you’re a med student.”

it sounded much harsher than what he had originally in his mind. but that was chishiya’s way of showing that he…cared?

you huffed. “god, chishiya. i don’t need your input. i just need to pass this goddamn exam and coffee is going to help. you’re already going to pass so i don’t know why you care.”

he just stared at you as you turned back around and poured your coffee into your hello kitty mug, reminding him of the time you FaceTimed him when you got the mug. you were so excited and happy over something that seemed so silly.

but that’s just how you were. though, he always felt like there was a part of you that he had not seen just yet. he read people scarily well and…he would know.

you breezed passed him and back into your room, cranking your music up. the aroma of your scent lingering until he followed you back in.

you were sitting on your window sill filled with all your plushies and other pillows with your textbook on your lap, flipping through the pages and sipping your coffee.

he sat across from you and looked out the view from your window. you didn’t look up from your book once.

one thing he loved about coming over to yours was the view you had. the beautiful sight of the city that the moonlight was shining upon. your music in the background making the view ethereal. it was peaceful. like a pause from the chaotic world.

his thoughts were interrupted by you flipping the page of your textbook harshly. taking yet another sip of your coffee while your eyes scanned the information.

he turned to you and kept his gaze there. despite the frustration written all over your face, you were shining against the moonlight. your soft features illuminating against it, like the moon was focusing on only you in that moment.

examining your face more, he saw tears starting to pool up in your eyes. the facade you were trying so hard to put up, finally fading away.

he paused. his attempt on comforting you earlier had failed miserably. now you were crying?

he shifted in his seat and looked back out the window, pretending not to notice. he felt uncomfortable. he didn’t know what to do. he was used to keeping his emotions inside at all times. he assumed the same for you. but now, it seems those bottled up emotions were pouring out of you and even though you didn’t want it, you let it.

he heard you sniffle, his eyes returning back to your face. you quickly wiped your tears and closed your textbook, throwing it on the ground next to you whilst placing your coffee gently atop of it.

you pulled your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around them, looking out the window to the view. tears were still spilling out and now you weren’t wiping them away. you were letting your tears fall into the night. but despite your built up emotions spilling out, your face remained still and blank. your tears just grazing on top of it.

“i have a feeling this is more then the mid-term that’s on your mind,” chishiya said, breaking the silence.

you didn’t say anything for a moment, your eyes still on the view of the quiet night. you let his words sit with you because he was right. and you hated how well he could read people — especially you.

you let out a breath before speaking. “it’s not like you would care.”

you knew chishiya wasn’t the type of person to express his feelings. so why would he listen to you express yours? regardless, he surprised you with his next choice of words. “try me.”

those words had you finally looking away from the view and to him, his gaze looking at you intently. inviting you, daring you to give him a chance.

“it’s a lot,” you started, gaze looking back out the window. you let out a soft chuckle. “i’m a mess.”

you felt him scoot closer to you, his eyes burning through you to get something, anything out of you. you felt that this was his way of letting you know that he was here to listen — something you weren’t used to.

finally, you let the words fall out of your mouth.

“i don’t want to be a fucking doctor.”

the words that were engraved in your brain since the minute you started uni was finally out into the night. for only you and chishiya to hear. and now, you felt somewhat free.

you looked back at him, his eyebrows having a slight furrow to them, expressing to continue your thought. “this is not my dream. to be honest, i’m really doing this for my mother.” you spoke your next sentence quieter, practically whispering. “because she wasn’t able to because of me.”

“what do you mean?”

you bit the inside of your cheek before continuing. “she was my age when she met my dad, so close to getting into her dream university because she took a gap year.”

he scanned your face, tears still spilling but your face still remaining blank.

“she was in love with him. and well, long story short, she got pregnant with me and couldn’t follow her dreams of becoming a doctor. so that’s why i’m doing what i’m doing. but it’s not what i want.”

he pursed his lips. “you shouldn’t let her be the reason to not enjoy your life.”

“but i love her. she’s been through hell for me. and i feel like it’s my fault she never got to follow her dream.”

“it’s not though.”

“but it’s the least i could do.”

he took his eyes off of you, returning his eyes to the window. he remained quiet for a moment which only built your nerves more. maybe, you shouldn’t have said anything? maybe you should of just kept on pretending. interrupting your thoughts, he spoke. “can i tell you something?”

you hummed in response, starting to feel more at ease.

“i don’t want to be a doctor either.”

chishiya didn’t know why he decided to tell you something that was so vulnerable to him. he spent years trying to dig it so deep in his brain that he would eventually forget it. but after admitting those words aloud, he realized he was simply putting up a facade. just like you.

“for similar reasons as you. except, my father never really was there for me nor showed he cared,” he shrugged.

he guessed that telling you this unexpectedly was because he felt you. and weirdly, he felt bad for you. you cared so much that you’re doing something that doesn’t make you happy. you didn’t deserve that.

“wow,” you replied. “i didn’t know that. i’m sorry.”

he looked at you, seeing your blank expression turn into concern. you really did care a lot about others. he was surprisingly glad he was one of them. at the same time however, he didn’t deserve someone like you to care for someone like him. “don’t be. i’m fine.”

his blunt expression grew more concern for you. you weren’t sure how he would respond if you kept prodding. but you did so nevertheless. “are you sure?”

he sighed. he wasn’t sure how to answer this. no one had ever asked. “i’m doing what i can.”

you gave him a slight smile. “i think we all are. sometimes, that’s the best we could do.”

he smirked back, looking at the view once more causing you to do the same. no matter what, you two always returned your eyes to it. you both never seemed to get tired of the sight.

“what is your dream?” he asked.

you smiled, despite all the emotions you were truly feeling. no one had ever asked you that before. no one ever cared to ask. “i want to be a writer.”

“really?”

“yeah. it’s like my escape,” you leaned a bit closer to the window before continuing. “no one has ever really listened to me or know the real me. they never really cared to. but writing — it’s a way i get to express the real me. and the ideas in my head.”

he looked over at you once more. your eyes were glistening with passion. something he never saw from you. it made him smile a bit. he silently hoped that you would be able to follow your dream. it seemed like something you truly adored.

“what about you?” you asked, meeting his gaze.

he snickered. “never really thought about that.”

you simply nodded.

“maybe travel the world. there’s so many places i haven’t seen yet. i would like to see all of them if i could.”

you gasped suddenly, causing chishiya to jump from your abrupt action. “i have an idea!”

he raised his eyebrows.

“when we graduate, we should take a trip! we could go anywhere you’d like.”

“with what money?”

“we’ll save up. if not, we’ll wing it.”

he chuckled at your comment. smirking, he nodded an agreement. “sounds like a plan.”

you smiled back at him. “any particular place you have in mind?”

he thought for a moment before answering. “Switzerland. i don’t know, that place looks unreal from what i’ve seen in photos. it’s definitely on my bucket list.”

“then Switzerland is where we’ll go.”

he smiled at you. a genuine smile. it was small. so small that any other person wouldn’t have realized it. but you — you noticed.

“you know,” you started, turning your attention back to the night. “nighttime has always been my favorite.”

he tilted his head, urging for you to carry on.

“not only is the world quiet from all the chaos, but you see people’s authentic selves. during the day, you put up this mask so people don’t see the real you. cause you’re scared that if they see the real you, they’ll run off. and the world is so loud that sometimes you wish you could just take a pause from all of it. nighttime, is like that pause. with the world quiet and the moonlight shining on the world lightly, its peaceful and inviting. that’s when people take off that mask of theirs and are comfortable with their vulnerable and real selves. and whoever you’re with in that moment to share your vulnerability with, its true and authentic. not something you put up to protect yourself.”

after a moment, you looked over at him, blood rushing to your cheeks. you said a lot and felt embarrassed. but he just looked at you keenly.

“i can see you as a writer.”

you furrowed your brows, confused at his response.

“your words are beautiful.”

your eyes widened, a slight sparkle to them. his words hit you hard. the kind of hit that felt like every negative emotion in you had disappeared. the kind that made your authentic self comfortable with him. the kind that felt like it was only you two in the world.

he simply just looked away. he honestly didn’t know what to say nor do next. but he was content. cause his words were truthful. you were a beautiful person all around. and he wanted to be sure that you knew that. even though the feelings he was feeling were foreign and uncomfortable, your words were right. the nighttime and you were making the chaos in his mind bearable.

you both sat in comfortable silence with the soft music in the background. the moon seemed like it had shined brighter, now illuminating and focusing on the both of you. making you two feel safe with each other.

after the blissful moment, you glanced at the clock on your nightstand. three-thirty.

chishiya followed your eyes and turned to also see the time.

“shit,” he muttered. “i better get going.”

“yeah,” you replied, a little saddened that he was leaving.

he got up from your window sill and began to gather his things. you just watched, bringing your knees closer to you as you rested your head against them.

once he was done, he threw his backpack over his shoulder and walked towards your door. but before he opened it, he paused and looked at you. really looked at you.

“i know i don’t say this enough or show it but, i really do care for you.”

you lifted your head up, mouth slightly agape at his words. he…cared for you? he cared for you.

you smiled at his words while he slightly grinned back.

“see you tomorrow, y/n/n.”

and then, he walked out the door into the peaceful night. leaving you breathless, filled with old and new emotions but most importantly, leaving you free.

he saw the real you. he listened to you. and he cares about you.

and while you don’t know where this is going or where it will go, you do know you care for him too. more than you ever had for anyone.

#chishiya shuntaro #chishiya fic #chishiya imagine #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya angst #chishiya fluff #aib chishiya #shuntaro chishiya #chishiya x y/n #chishiya x reader #chishiya x gn reader #chishiya x you #aib fanfic #aib x you #alice in boderland x reader #aib #nijiro murakami #nijiro days #alice in borderland

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