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roses-for-rosalyn · 9 months

Note

ngl my brain kinda goes crazy at the thought of mafia!abby. I don't know why but HER IN A SUIT lord have mercy.

put all my favorite tropes in a blender and I give you:

City Lights

Part 2

a/n: not my best work but it is my horniest work, so riddle me that.

cw: Mafia! Abby, dbf! Abby 🤭, little age gap (reader in early 20s Abby is later 30s), feminine reader (specifically refers to reader as girl), sort of innocent reader, Abby walking in on reader using vibe 🤭, Abby referred to as Ms. Anderson or miss, reader gets roofied BUT is saved and nothing ensues, general mafia coded violence, make out session, (smut in part 2 I'm sorry my darlings)

Minors DNI (I will jump out at you through your screen i stg)

wc: 4.8k (woah)

———————————————————————

You watch as the sun falls from the city sky, lights slowly flickering on signaling the end of a day and the start of a long night. You can’t help but marvel at the sea of lights shimmering in front of you creating a sort of man made night sky, stars replaced by the warm glow of living room and bedroom lights from various apartments. You had lived in this penthouse for a while, but watching the city come alive at night would never get old.

“Hey!” your friend, Dina, waves a hand in front of your face. She must have called you a few times before she finally got your attention. Your eyes reluctantly move from the glowing city to your friend looking down at you, a playful expression on her face. “Girl, you have to get out of your head for your own good.” She lends a hand to you, “Let’s go drink our problems away.” She smirks and you giggle before grabbing her hand and standing up.

“Alright, but you can’t leave me tonight. It's girls night.” She would almost always end up with someone by the end of the night, leaving you to make your way home alone at fucking 3 AM. It definitely helped that her dad wasn’t in the same line of work as yours, you couldn’t exactly hook up with just anyone. Apparently it was “dangerous” your dad was fucking paranoid, but it’s not like you could ignore him and rebel. He always found out somehow and you’d end up being whisked away by one of his bodyguards he hired to follow you around. It was a compromise that the guards were at a distance too, if it were up to you they wouldn’t be there at all.

“I’m not leaving you tonight because you’re going to find someone to go home with.” She has a mischievous smile on her face, like she’s already planned your fate for the night.

“Dina-” you start to say, but she interrupts, “Hush, forget about your dad for a few hours of your life, we’ll figure it out.” She smiles genuinely this time and steps back to dramatically look you up and down. “Listen, you look hot, I look hot, let’s go have fun and be hot together.” She wasn’t wrong, you were wearing one of your favorite black dresses. It perfectly accentuated your curves and flaunted just the right amount of cleavage. Dina always looked good, tonight she was wearing a little black dress as well and you two made quite the alluring pair.

Dina handed you your clutch and led you out of the apartment and into the bustling city. A car is ready for you as soon as you walk out of the lobby– one of the perks of your paranoid father’s line of work. You and her climb in giggling and reflecting on past nights filled with loud music and colorful lights.

The car slows and you and Dina exit onto the sidewalk. Your heels obnoxiously click against the pavement as you both make your way to the door, skipping the line. The bouncer immediately recognizes and encourages you in with a friendly nod. You glance up at the muscley man with a grateful smile and a wink before you enter with your friend in tow.

You walk into an empty marble lobby, dimly lit with no furniture. The sound of both your and Dina’s Heels now echoing throughout the grand empty room. Straight ahead there is a small elevator and to the left of it are stairs. The stairs have little lights lining them, illuminating the way up. You and Dina look at eachother, “No way I’m taking those stairs in these heels.”

She giggles “I agree, I don't think I could make it the 15th floor.” You click the button to call the elevator and the doors immediately open. You and Dina walk into the poorly lit mirror covered box and you press the button for the top floor. Turns out she was wrong. It was more like 20 floors, you had scaled those stairs before, but all those times you were very drunk and going down not up. You adjust your hair and pick at your makeup as the elevator slowly ascends. A soft ding sounds and the door opens slowly revealing the bustling nightclub.

The only lighting in the room was cool colored spotlights, the overwhelming sound of music causing the floor to vibrate under your feet. Most of the light flooded in through the windows that lined the walls. The city lights filtered in, illuminating the room. It almost felt like the club was somehow floating in the middle of the bustling urban area. The floor to ceiling windows made it feel much more spacious despite it being packed with writhing bodies. It was the reason this club was your favorite; it perfectly embraced its beautiful location at the top of a skyscraper.

You both wander into the crowd hand in hand, making a beeline for the bar. You order two vodka shots each and two drinks, wanting to get the festivities of the night started as quickly as possible. The bartender quickly delivers your orders and you look at your friend nodding before downing a shot. Dina beats you to the second, but you quickly follow, giggling. Your face involuntarily scrunches up as the offensive flavor of pure vodka hits your tongue. She leans in close to your ear and says in a low, mischievous voice “Let’s go have some fun.” and at that you both disappear into the crowd.

You’re not sure how much time has passed at this point. Apparently enough time for sweat to start to perspire on your skin, the warmth of bodies writhing together causing the temperature to rise throughout the night. A slight dizziness causes your vision to soften, the figures of people around you blurring together. Dancing had become easier and easier as your body relaxed from the alcohol flooding through your veins, the music leading your body movements. You had realized at some point you must have lost Dina, you pause your dancing and make your way to the booths. You spot her in between a man and women, clearly flirting with both of them, with her hands on each of their thighs, laughing comfortably with one another. It was clear she was going home with both of them tonight. Fucking impressive. And annoying.

It’s probably been years since you flirted with someone like that, at a certain point you gave up, letting other people approach you. It never ended in anything though. You envied Dina in her ability to execute that kind of thing.

You walk up, hesitantly interrupting. She spots you and pauses her heavy petting on her new friends. “Oh shit, I forgot I don’t have to-”

You hold up your hand and smile “Don’t worry about it, I’m having fun. Just text me later.” you wink and she smiles and nods. You walk over to the bar for your last drink of the night and to close your tab. You look around as you wait for your drink, scanning the VIP section for any familiar faces. Unsurprisingly you spot one of your father’s associates Ms. Anderson. She was here pretty regularly and maybe that’s why you were also here pretty regularly. There was an unspoken, forbidden attraction between you two. Stolen glances and tense conversations made it obvious it was mutual. It was also obvious that nothing could happen besides the occasional sexually charged staring contest, your father might murder her–in a more literal sense than most dads would murder their daughters' lovers. So you resorted to touching yourselves with each other’s names on the tip of your tongues, fingers teasing the ache that grew between your legs at the thought of the other.

She was wearing her usual suit minus a tie. Her white shirt was mostly unbuttoned, giving her a more casual, careless look. She sat with her legs spread, arms carelessly strung along the back of the couch she was sitting in, a glass of neat whiskey in her large hand. A woman sat next to her–well practically on top of her– in a scantily clad outfit, Ms. Anderson hardly made an effort to look at her eyes. She was surrounded by multiple men, clearly negotiating something, barely paying attention to them. And yet despite her disinterest in their words you could sense the respect that was held towards the blonde woman. They didn’t care that she wasn’t intently listening, they were grateful to even be heard at all. You could tell they must be low in the ranks, especially considering Ms. Anderson’s bored expression as they spoke to her. She caught you staring at her and her bored expression turned into a devilish smirk, her eyes meeting with yours. You look away embarrassed and pray your drink comes sooner rather than later. After a few minutes the bartender sets it down in front of you, you grab your drink off the counter gulping the whole thing down in a few sips. You step into the mass of bodies dancing to the loud music and begin moving in sync with the warm figures. Soon your vision turns concerningly blurry, you immediately try to stumble towards the bar, your legs starting to fail you. You were unfortunately familiar with what was happening which only made you panic all the more, trying to fight through the tiredness that is taking over your body. In a last ditch attempt you lug your failing body towards Ms. Anderson, praying to a god you didn’t believe in that someone noticed.

You hadn’t spotted Ms. Anderson earlier, but she noticed you. She had been watching you all night, specifically taking note of the way your body guards were distanced from you. She watched the bartender make your drink. Right as she watched him slip some sort of powder into it she left in the middle of her conversation. It didn’t matter at that point, all that mattered was getting to you before he did. She nodded at her bodyguards whispering in each of their ears what to do. One went with Abby to help you while the other went to grab the bartender.

Abby bent down underneath you to support you under your shoulder and you felt dread fill your body as she grabbed you, not recognizing who it was. You manage to loll your head to the side and see her face, your panic subsides and you begin to give in to the drug. As your body grows heavier Abby picks you up in the air bridal style, initially she didn’t want to cause a scene, but now it would be impossible to get you out of here any other way. You feel her warmth radiate through her shirt and your head leans against her strong chest as your vision slowly fades to black.

You startle awake, panicking as you realize you're sitting up in someone’s car. Adrenaline takes over as your breathing quickens and your heart rate picks up. You take in your surroundings, lights blur together as you look out the window, desperately trying to discern your location. When you look to your left your breathing immediately slows, remembering you were rescued by Ms. Anderson before you collapsed in the middle of the club. She looks over at you, slightly surprised by your wide panicked eyes being open, she expected you to sleep through the night given the amount of drugs that must be swirling around in your system. You were obviously quite the stubborn girl.

You begin to say something before the blonde cuts you off, “I found your phone and texted Dina and your father already. Your Father thinks you're staying over at Dina’s and Dina knows you’re safe and with me.” She immediately reassures you, somehow knowing exactly why you shot awake in the midst of a drug induced haze. You nod and relax, letting her take control of your fate. “I’m taking you back to my place, you need someone to make sure you stay breathing through the night.” You watch as her bloodstained knuckles harshly grip the steering wheel. What you didn’t know is Abby had laid you in the car, leaving you with one of her bodyguards before tending to the bartender herself. She made quick work of him, swiftly cutting off limb after limb as she gathered information. Abby was surprised at how quickly her rage consumed her, not realizing how protective she was of you. She snickered at him as he screamed and begged for his life. All she could see as she disassembled the poor excuse for a man was your weak body crumpling to the floor in front of her. She found out he was taking out a sort of hit on you. Trying to hurt your father by hurting you, she learned the name of his boss and sent the information to your father to have it taken care of. Of course she didn’t mention it was you who he tried to kidnap and do who knows what with, she only mentioned it was one of the daughters of someone in the inner circle.

He didn’t usually ask questions anyways, your father delighted in ridding this world of men who liked to hurt women. The things your father did were dark, but he never ever fucked with women, it was an unspoken rule in the Organization, one that Abby greatly appreciated and respected as well as you. You didn’t like what your father was involved in, but the thought that he had some sense of morals helped you sleep a little better at night.

You allow your eyes to close once again as Ms. Anderson drives you to her apartment. You float in and out of consciousness as she picks you up out of the car and carries you inside. You can sense the changes in lighting from behind your eyelids, you use sounds to estimate where you might be. Soon keys jingle and a door is opened. Muffled voices surround you and you are handed over to someone else's arms. You feel your dress being gently peeled from your body and you whimper, barely fighting for your dignity. A soft feminine voice hushes you and upon realizing it was a woman you return to your half conscious state. You are placed down onto cold porcelain and you shiver before warm water runs over your body. It felt heavenly, the water massaging your skin warming you from the outside in. You finally fall completely unconscious feeling a sense of security washing over you as the water did.

You blink open your eyes slowly, bright light penetrating your vision. You have to squint for a moment until your eyes adjust to your surroundings. You’re laying in an incredibly comfortable bed with soft white sheets and a puffy white comforter. Your dress has been replaced by an incredibly oversized matching set of pajamas. You tentatively lift up the hem of your pants and… yup this wasn't even your underwear. God how fucking humiliating. The room is large with tall ceilings and light gray walls. Bright morning light floods in from a giant window overlooking the city. A green couch faces a large TV suspended on the wall above a fireplace. To your left is a nightstand with a tall glass of water and ibuprofen. Upon seeing the glass of water you feel your tongue sticking to the inside of your mouth, your throat so dry you could barely swallow. You gulp down the water along with the pain meds greedily. Upon a second glance you realize the room has no personality, almost like a hotel room or a guest room. It didn’t seem like someplace one would sleep every night. You hear the doorknob being slowly twisted before the door opens revealing Ms. Anderson. She commanded so much space with her presence in her perfectly fitted and pressed suits complete with a tie and matching pocket square. Her hair was pulled back into a perfect, neat braid, little pieces of hair framing her face. Her strong arms and broad shoulders made her posture appear so confident she almost seemed unapproachable. Upon seeing you awake she smiles “Morning.” She says as she makes her way towards you.

“Morning.” Your voice was still heavy with sleep.

“How are you feeling?” She asks as she sits on the edge of the bed by your feet.

“Pretty good all things considered.” You manage a dry laugh.

“I would start scolding you about the proximity of your body guards, but I feel like I should let you wake up a little first.” She watches as you poorly attempt to rub the sleep out of your eyes, yawning a little as you do.

“No, no you’re definitely right, learned my lesson.” You pause for a moment as you remember the question that was lurking in the back of your mind since you woke up. Should you even ask?

“My clothes…” You start to say, not exactly sure how to approach this conversation.

“Oh yeah,” Ms. Anderson blushes a bit “One of my maids, Clara, she was the one who changed you and stuff, I-I didn’t um-” Jesus Christ you managed to fluster this 30 something year old woman, reducing her to an incoherent mumbling mess. “Your dress is over there.” She points to the nightstand. “I would have had it washed, but I wasn’t sure if there was a special way you liked it done or something. Wouldn’t want to ruin it since it looked so good on you.” She smirks and now you’re the one blushing.

“Th-thank you, I appreciate not having to sleep in that.” You look at her through your lashes, a flirtatious smirk pulling at your lips. You and Abby get lost in one of your staring contests gazing at each other as a silence falls over the both of you.

Abby is the one to snap out of it, “Oh-uh I should get going I’m going to be late. I arranged a ride home for you. My driver is waiting at the front.” She gets up fiddling with her shirt cuffs as she starts walking out of the room. “And if you want to talk about what happened with someone, just let me know. I’m a good listener.” She smiles for a moment before it falls into a frown. “I wish I didn’t have to leave. I feel like a dick, but I swear I have an important meeting, I-”

“It’s ok,” You smile, cutting her off before she continues apologizing. “I have Dina to talk to. Go to your meeting, don't be late because of me.”

“Ok I’ll see you soon.” She smiles and stares at you for just a moment too long before leaving the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Holy shit what a night.

As soon as you get home you have a debrief with Dina over the phone, ranting to her about the whole thing. It starts out lighthearted as you and your best friend over-analyze every one of Ms. Andersons’ actions, feeding into your crush on her. Dina makes sure to throw in an occasional “She’s literally in love with you” and “You have to make a move on her or something she wants you”. You laugh her off, but you secretly enjoy her feeding into your delusions. The discussion inevitably turns into a bit of a therapy session. You can’t stop the tears slipping from your eyes as you realize that a simple night out can so easily turn deadly for you. Being a normal woman in her 20s able to party and go out to clubs was so far out of your grasp. You almost died last night and it wasn’t even that rattling, you constantly end up as a damsel in distress despite your best efforts. You knew how to fight well, knew how to use a gun and knives, and yet it was never enough.

Dina tells you about her night in excruciating detail, but you liked to live vicariously through her. Her descriptions of her experiences made you feel a little more informed and a little less like an innocent virgin. She never made you feel lesser than her for your lack of experience though, she rarely even talked about your lack of experience. She was a good friend like that: smart, but didn’t make you feel dumb, beautiful without making you feel like shit, she always made sure you knew you were her equal.

For the rest of the day you allow yourself to mope in your room and recover from the toll the previous night took on your body and mind. You daydream about Ms. Anderson and her strong arms, imagining how she could use them to pin you down as she did whatever she wanted to you. You wonder if she might use her tie to restrain you as she fucked you dumb with her strap, or teasing you with a vibrator until you were begging her to let you come, completely at her mercy.

Unbeknownst to you Abby had come to your apartment to check on you. When you didn’t answer the door she assumed you were asleep and used the spare she asked for from your bodyguard last night. She had debated bringing you back to your own place, but couldn’t resist the opportunity to have you sleep in her bed. She felt gross using that situation as an excuse to be able to smell you on her sheets, but she was getting desperate. She was looking forward to coming home all day and fucking herself with her fingers whilst pressing her nose to the sheets. Ultimately she decided to visit you first, not being able to resist an excuse to see you.

She walks in and immediately notes the homey feeling that resonates throughout the large apartment. Colorful rugs, warm lighting and plants immediately make her feel at ease. It felt like you, it made sense. She envied the ability to capture personality through decorations.

Abby makes her way to what she assumes in your bedroom. As she gets closer she hears you whimpering, she peeks through the crack in the door worried you were having a nightmare or were in pain, but oh she was so delightfully wrong. She saw the beautiful sight of you squirming under your sheets, the soft buzz of a vibrator humming through the dark room. Your eyes were closed, head tilted back as you pressed the vibrator to your clit. Abby couldn’t look away, it felt so incredibly wrong and dirty but she could not bring herself to walk away. She watched as you spread your legs further apart, begging for more. Your whimpers morph into quiet moans as you turn up the setting and Abby is starting to feel an unbearable ache grow between her legs at the sight. You let out a quiet, whiney “Oh fuck” and Abby almost cums in her pants. You turn up the setting even further and Abby can’t help but wonder how much you could take, imagining overstimulating you to the point of tears. She absent mindedly allows her hand to cup her cunt as she continues observing you. Suddenly she hears you whimper Ms. Anderson please, and she is immediately grounded. She rushes out of the apartment, quietly closing the door behind her. She gets home and locks herself in her room, stuffing her fingers into her dripping cunt and cumming over and over to the memory of your sweet voice calling her name.

The next time you see Ms. Anderson, you weren’t expecting her. You were at a dinner with all the men from the inner circle and their daughters. Abby was the only woman and didn’t have children, so naturally you had assumed she wouldn’t be there. But here she sat, listening intently as one of the men told a story about some deal gone wrong. She was across from you, and she was just so captivating to look at. Her usual suit was swapped for a white button down, dark gray vest and black tie. Her muscular arms strained against the fabric, making you practically drool. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows perfectly displaying her forearms. You let your eyes follow the veins from under her sleeves to her hands, trying to memorize the way her hands looked as they rested on the table. She hadn’t caught you staring yet, so you decided to be bold, sliding your foot under her pant leg. She didn’t move. You start to move it up, higher, higher, until Abby subtly shakes you off. You accept the rejection, feeling slightly embarrassed until she moves her foot to touch yours. She slowly slides it up and down your bare leg, still refusing to stray her attention away from her current conversation. You shake her off and kick her lightly under the table before getting up and heading to the restroom. She finally averts her gaze to look at you as you get up.

As you walk to the bathroom you silently hope she understood your invitation. To be honest you really didn’t know exactly what you were asking for, all you knew is the tension between you has grown to an almost unbearable point and you were tired of waiting and yearning. You walk into the ladies room, purposefully not locking the door behind you. You face the mirror and begin to fix your makeup, fixing any smeared mascara or eyeliner. You lightly wet your hair trying to tame any fly-aways. Just as you begin to give up waiting the door opens. You turn around, back to the sink, and face the door. It could have been anyone, but thank fuck it was her. She has a slightly frustrated expression on her face as she looks at you. She closes the door behind her, locks it and turns to face you. She leaves mere inches between you two despite the ample space in the bathroom. She looks down at you for a moment, her size was even more staggering when you were this close. You feel a sort of powerlessness, but it wasn’t a negative feeling, it was thrilling. Ms. Anderson gently grips your chin between her thumb and index finger and forces you to look up at her.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing princess?” She asks in a low, hushed tone. You can’t answer, all you can manage to do is look up at her as a smirk appears on her face. “You really have no idea how tempting you are with your little dresses and this little innocent girl act.” She inches closer to you, her lips centimeters from yours. “I’m not even sure it’s an act.” She laughs, “and on top of it all I’m not allowed to have you,” She uses her other hand to caress the side of your thigh and you let out a small gasp at the feeling on her hand touching your bare skin. “To be honest that just makes me want you more.” She uses her grip on your thigh to lift your leg up, hooking it around her waist. Your back is pressed into the sink, hands gripping the edge of the porcelain, her body pressed against yours. She still hasn’t moved any closer, her lips barely grazing yours. You can feel every breath and word she utters from her lips on yours. Neither of you dare move, scared to shatter the moment that each of you have been craving for so long.

“Ms. Anderson?” you breathe out, the words fanning onto her soft lips. Abby sighs at the sound of her name coming from your mouth.

“Fuck it.” She kisses you. Perfectly.

It’s not too soft, not too hard, it was just what you needed. She was so soft and warm, you couldn’t help but melt into her strong body. You whimper softly and she deepens the kiss, her tongue teasing your mouth open. Her grip on your thigh tightens a bit at each little sound you make. Her hand moves from your chin to your jaw, her grip is so, so gentle, like she’s scared to break you. You move one of your hands from the sink and press it against her chest, trying to keep yourself steady.

Abby is the first one to break away, even though it’s the last thing she wants to do. “W-we can’t do this here.”

You look at her, desperation taking over every fiber of your being “Please Miss, I can’t-”

Abby sighs “Just wait until the end of dinner, go home- I won't be far behind you- and I'll meet you there. Sound good?” You nod eagerly “Words princess.”

“Yes, sounds really good.” Abby smiles and peels herself away from you. She smoothes out her clothes before heading for the door.

“See you soon, princess.” She says before slipping out the door and heading back to dinner like nothing happened.

lmk what y'all think! reposts and notes always appreciated 💕💕💕

#abby x you #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby anderson smut #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby the last of us #the last of us 2 #mafia! abby #the last of us

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 1 month

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Hiii!

I found your stories a few hours ago and they are perfect, I don't think I ever went through someone's account so fast hahah

If it's fine with you, could you do a sequel to the yandere bully story? Maybe what would happen if reader ended up too scared of his bullying and decided to change school, or had to move away due to personal reasons! What would be yandere's reaction?

Of course, it's just a request, so feel free to not do it if you don't feel like doing it!

Loving your stories, keep it up, I'm rooting for you! ❤

Yandere!Bully x Fem!Reader part 2

CW: Bullying, breaking and entering

Simon's mind went blank. It was as if the organ didn't want to process what he had just learned, so it decided to power off instead.

"Yeah, apparently she started homeschooling." The sharp nosed boy tried his best to bite back his smile. A year younger than Simon, Nicky looked up to him, aspiring to be just as (much of a bully) cool as he was. So when he overheard the office ladies sympathetically discussing Simon's favorite victim, he made sure to gather as much information as he could in order to try and impress Simon; gain his favor.

The squirrelly brunette had prepared mentally for a number of different reactions Simon could have had to the news: anger, disappointment, mild amusement.. but when he turned his eyes away from his milk box it confused him to see Simon's stare empty.

Thinking that Simon didn't care Nicky doubled down. "My sources say she was too scared to name her bullies, and that she just wanted it to end without a confrontation."

'She left because of me??' Simon squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to shut out the kid yapping beside him. When (Reader) didn't come to school Simon was, of course, worried. He thought that she might have gotten sick, or worse. The worry over not being able to see her beautiful face was eating him up, and he admittedly began lashing out at other people, really making him into the bully (Reader) thought he was. But now he was hearing that she had left the school because of him??

"It's a good thing she didn't snitch, huh?" The prideful child said in a haughty way, pleased with himself (even though Simon didn't know, or care, why).

"Why are you telling me this?" 'Can't you see how fucked up you got me right now??'

"Huh?" Startled and suddenly nervous, Nicky wrung the bottom of his hoodie in an attempt to calm his stutter. "B- I just, I thought, because you- you seemed to hate her, ya know? So I thought- I just thought you'd be interested to know.."

"Great. Now I know." Simon's voice was hard and sharp. He wanted to cry, but he sounded like he was on the verge of attacking the younger kid. "What am I supposed to do with that information?"

Heart in his throat and lip trembling, Nicky handed over his phone with the camera open. "I took a picture of her address.."

Knock knock knock!

(Reader) happily rolled off the couch and made her way to the front door. Neither of her parents were home and she had already finished all of her classwork, so the student had been relaxing while scrolling through her phone. She had only been homeschooled for a week, but was already back to her old self again. (Reader) was so stress free that she wasn't as paranoid about an unexpected visitor as she probably should have been.

She opened the front door without peaking to see who it was, and she didn't have time to process that it was Simon until he had already shoved himself inside and closed the door behind him. All of the fear and anxiety that (Reader) had finally worked through snapped back like a rubber band, physically hurting her chest.

"What- Get out!" Her shaky voice commanded.

"Shut up." Simon had planned on being comforting and sweet, rehearsing the entire trip on how to apologize and finally woo (Reader) correctly. To mend all the damage his foul personality had accidentally done. But then he was there, in her hallway, and she looked so scared of him.. "What were you thinking? Not coming to school. I thought you might've killed yourself." His attempt to show how worried he was for her only sounded like a threat as it left his lips.

(Reader) thought about her phone she left on the couch, and wondered if she could get to it before he could grab her. "Please leave me alone.." If only she could inch backwards as subtly as possible..

"Why? I came here to make sure you were okay." Simon grabbed her wrist and squeezed tightly enough for her to bite the inside of her cheek. "Come back to school."

"..No."

His grip tightened.

"I- I can't!" (Reader) struggled to break free as the tears began to pool up. "Do you know how difficult it was to get into homeschooling?? More than half way through the year?? I didn't drop out!! I couldn't go back, even if I wanted to!" Her pleas made sense, but Simon was already too heartbroken to hear them.

"Then I guess I'm going to be your new study buddy." His smile was supposed to be kind, suave. He wanted to look caring and dashing. But to (Reader) his half lidded eyes and tight smile looked like a malevolent smirk.

"What?"

"What? You thought you could run away from me? It's not like your family has enough money to just up and move whenever they want." Simon glanced around at the furniture visible from the entrance to double check that they, in fact, were not rich enough to move whenever. "And now I know where you live."

(Reader) parted her lips to talk back, but Simon quickly closed the gap between them, pulling her into his chest and kissing her painfully. He had imagined their first kiss many many times, and it was never like this. But it didn't matter if it was rushed and he pulled her in too hard and he slammed his lips against her's too forcefully. The young man wanted to beg her to never leave his side again, but instead as he turned around to leave he only left her with another warning.

"Don't even think about calling the cops. I'll be back to check up on you again later.. and if you try to run again, I'll fucking find you."

#thank you for interacting with me #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere bully #fem reader #yandere tsundere #part two

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horrorisunknowntoyou · 1 year

Text

STRESS FILLED NIGHTS

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem-Reader

TW: Anxiety/ paranoid, Stress cleaning, biting nails.

Summary: You were used to Simon's night terrors and anxiety, but what happens when your the one struggling without even knowing?

A/n: I wrote this, because I'm having a really hard time sleeping so this is a self comfort thing for me. I'm tired man. Also Ghost is OOC . And this is unedited or whatever.

Tick...Tick...Tick...

You starred up at the ceiling, the clock on the wall continuing to tick on the wall. You peer over to your left, picking up your phone from the nightstand. At this point taking off the charger as it's full battery at this point. The light illuminating from the phone slightly blinding you as you check the time.

2:13 am

Sighing, you put your phone aside, it's been hours already and your still not asleep yet. Your husband by now is peacefully asleep, but your still awake. You turn to your side, facing the now sleeping Ghost. He looked so...peaceful you just stared at him slowly breathing, looking pretty in the blue mood light on him. Something only you and you alone can see, no one else can. Your hand gently reaches out as gently push and piece of hair aside, smiling at how cute he is.

Eventually you layed back on your back, staring at the ceiling once again. After 20 minutes of looking at the ceilings texture to see if you can see any images from it for fun. Or messing around with your hand in the blue light you eventually got sick of it.

Quietly sitting up from the bed, making sure to not make any sounds to wake your husband up. You put your house slippers on and left the room. Once in the hallway, you let out a relaxed breath. Since your awake, might as well make yourself useful.

" Think y/n, what can I do currently?..." You thought as you take a left turn reaching the living room. You flick the lights on " Oh, I can tidy up the house abit, as long I don't vacuum or do anything loud, it should be fine." At this point you were getting shaky because you were exhausted. But you ignored it as you started to sweep the floor, humming to yourself quietly.

You swept.

You wiped the tables and counters clean.

You moped the tile floor.

You clean the dust off souvenirs and photo frames and more.

You left the kitchen spotless.

You even clean your fucking gun.

After all of that, you just sat on the couch silently with out a word. You were biting your nails, trying to figure out what else to do before being alerted to Simon's panicked voice.

"Y/n?! Y/n where are you? Y/-"

He immediately rushed over to the living room panicked. He soon relaxed once he saw you just sitting on the couch.

"Y/n, it's 6am...what the hell are you doing this early?"

"Cleaning."

"Cleaning?" He gave you an almost dumbfounded look. " You know what time it is, right now?"

"6:25 am."

"How long have you been cleaning love?"

You were starting to avoid his eye contact, biting you nail more. "I-i..I don't know."

Ghost just stood there sighing, "why didn't you ask for my help?" He says, almost hurt. " Your going to get a migraine. "

"I know...I don't know...I just.." you starred down at your carpet rug. " I was scared, I couldn't sleep. And I thought it was better if I'm awake that I should make myself useful..."

Ghost, walks over to you, kneeling in front of you, his calloused hands gently forcing you to look at him. " Y/n, y/n look at me. Your hurting yourself doing this. "

"I don't understand." You said truthfully, your hand gently laying on top of his.

"love, your exhausted, your literally shaking right now....Listen, I may not be good at the whole comfort thing compared to you. But since you watch over me during my night terrors it's only fair I do the same with you."

"But...I don't have nightmares like you do though, I'm just...a little scared to go to sleep."

"Even so, you still need sleep."

You thought about it, and slowly nod. You then gently leaned into his arms and laid your head on his shoulder.

Ghost then stood up, and wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up. Carrying you back to bed, flicking the lights off.

He walks into your shared bedroom, closing the door behind him. Getting in bed with you, now that he can see your face closely, your eyes were bloodshot and exhausted.

You quietly spoked to him, as he now gently moves a strain of your hair aside. " Did I really scare you? I'm sorry if I did..." You yawn softly, " I thought...me leaving would protect you...or something."

"Protect me? Ha. But you did startle me. "

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You didn't intend to. I was just... surprised to not see you beside me. "

"hmm." Your eyes fluttered abit. Less talkative.

Ghost noticed, that him quietly talking to you was finally making you relax.

" I would appreciate if next time this happens, you tell me. Alright?"

You nodded.

Ghost continue to talk to you, sometimes telling you his awful jokes. And once you finally stop responding to him. He looked over to see you finally asleep. Haft your face hidden away in the pillow, taking soft slow breaths.

He pulled the blanket over his shoulders, gently pulling you close to him , wrapping his arms around you protectively falling suit and falling asleep with you.

Both of you peacefully asleep.

A/n: IM SO TIRED UGH

#simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader

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olderthannetfic · 4 months

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Since you've mentioned that you use Scrivener as a word processing software, I have a bit of a weird-ish question. I have looked at the programme and it seems incredibly useful, and then I looked at the pricetag and- gulp.

I currently use Word which costs 5 euros per year thanks to university, but am thinking about switching to another programme that isn't related to my uni as I feel too paranoid about my smutty fanfic ideas being looked at by my uni and them disapproving of my writing. XD (Word keeps marking "fuck" with a squiggly line and suggesting I choose another word to avoid offending my readers, but if canon doesn't give Barclay some holographic MMF action taking place during "A Fistful of Datas" and turning both his holographic partners into holographic Data and therefore inducing maximum tension and insecurity due to feelings in poor sandwiched Barclay whenever he meets actual Data after that, I will have to write it myself! :P )

According to the website where one can buy a Scrivener license, one pays for the current version of it and will have to buy later versions anew if I haven't misunderstood. You seem to have used it for quite a while, and I haven't managed to find out when the different versions came out. I know the current one is 3, but I am unsure how much time passed between 1 and 2 and 2 and 3, and am unsure whether it's a good idea to buy a license now or whether it would be wiser to wait if it's likely that another version might be released in the near future (that is within one year for example) because then I might wait a little while with my purchase, heh. It probably sounds quite stingy but I am solely getting it for my tiny and too seldom indulged hobby of writing fanfic, and currently have to kinda sorta pay more attention to my wallet and where its contents go, so to say, which is why I'm hesitant.

The question basically is: As a (probable?) long-time user, do you think it's likely a new version of Scrivener will be released within the next year or so or do you think it's likely the current version will be tha latest to purchase for a longer while than 1-2 years?

I hope this rambly mess makes sense, haven't really slept for quite some time, so I am sorry if this is terribly incomprehensible. Sorry for the weird stingy question. Have a nice day and I hope you have slept and will sleep better than I currently do, heh!

I've only used it for like three years.

A quick google suggests that Scrivener 2 was released in 2010. 3 was released in 2017 basically to keep up with OS changes.

(IDK what you searched, but this isn't hard to find, dude.)

Scrivener is a fairly... old-fashioned style of software, I guess I'd call it. Some dude wrote himself a program to write his own novel and then people liked it. Some other guy decided to port it to Windows.

They update approximately never. When they do, recent buyers of the old one upgrade for free and everybody else gets like half off. The trial period is 30 days of actual use. The current retail license for 3 is only like sixty bucks. It's a commercial product, but... not like you've been trained to expect by your average modern software that wants to nickle and dime you at every turn.

Do you need Scrivener? Well, no. Not unless you want customizable high-level ebook output formatting and fancy features like that. You could just use some other free option if you just want to type stories in something that isn't Word. But Scrivener is priced extremely low for what it is.

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christhopersturniolo · 24 days

Text

୨ LOSING YOU ୧

SUMMARY: You and Chris argue cause you don’t trust him enough, you’re way too ‘toxic’.

WARNINGS: Angst, cussing.

NOTES: English is not my first language, so i’m sorry for any mistake.

୨୧

I sigh, annoyed by all this argument “Then let me see your phone, Christopher.” I extend my hand, for him to hand me it.

Chris turns off his phone and looks at me “Do you know how stupid you sound right now Y/N?” Chris scoffs, like i’m crazy. His tone dripping with disbelief.

“Stupid?” I repeat in the same tone as him “Now I sound stupid for not wanting to be cheated on?” He starts to get up from the bed, with each step he gets closer to me.

“You gotta stop with all your bullshit, I seriously can’t take this anymore. You are fucking paranoid!” He says loudly in my face. “I've never given you any reason to doubt me! Do you know how many times you’ve asked to go through my phone?!”

My eyes never leave his. “Do you know how many girls you follow on instagram? I know you get upset every time I mention this but it’s true! You get all defensive and what? I have reasons to be paranoid! So yeah, I’m paranoid and it’s because of you!”

“I get ‘defensive’ and all ‘upset’ cause I would never cheat, and you make me feel like I already did!” His hands moving wildly.

He keeps coming, not letting me talk. “You are fucking insecure! I’m not like your exes! You gotta stop projecting your shitty insecurities on me!” at this point I don’t even know what to answer, cause it’s true.

“Maybe if you were honest with me this wouldn’t be happening” I say with a shaky voice.

“Oh you want honesty don’t you? Fine!” He aggressively starts unlocking his phone with his thumb and putting it into my hands “Take this shit! See if this discussion is worth it!”

I hesitate. Tears blur my vision as I struggle to hold his phone in my trembling hands. “I can’t” I choke out, my voice barely audible “I don’t wanna do this, Chris” I sniff, avoiding eye contact “Maybe I am insecure, and I hate it.”

He sighs. Christopher’s expression softens slightly as he sees my tears fall, but his frustration is still there “I just want you to trust me, Y/N.”

I look up at him with my watery eyes “And I want to trust you, I swear, but it’s so hard when my past keeps fucking haunting me.”

“I understand…” Chris murmurs, his voice becoming more gentle “but if we are going to make this relationship work, you have to stop being so paranoid and untrusting.” He cups my cheeks with his hands, wiping my tears away with his thumbs “I love you, and I would never hurt you, so please just put some trust in me, okay?” I nod “I'm here for you. I want to help you through this. You have no idea how much I hate seeing you acting like this, it makes me genuinely sad.” He pulls me into a hug, I lay my head on his chest.

“I’m scared of losing you..”

He keeps me close for a while. “I know you are.. But I’m not going anywhere.” He says softly, his hand running through my hair “I’m always here for you..”

୨୧

this was a short one

idk if i like it, i think they changed moods way to fast lmao

taglist: @thebottledwatersupplier @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @orangelala @annamcdonalds67 @lilo7sworld @soso-scarlettolivia @junnniiieee07

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teecupangel · 10 months

Note

Thinking about a Desmond time travel au where because of the Bleeds whenever Desmond is alone with one of his ancestors his hindbrain defaults to oh this is a hallucination and he just loses all filter between his thoughts and what he's saying just compete steam of consciousness because it's funny to think of someone going up to the ancestor in question (I'm imaging Altair because he's my fave) and being like why do you trust Desmond he's the most secretive and quiet person ever and Altair responds with something like "Desmond has never once been quiet or secretive in my presence"

“He’s hiding something.”

Oh, he was.

Absolutely.

But he had said all of it to Altaïr in complete confidence and Altaïr was not inclined to share the knowledge and secrets Desmond had imparted to him.

“He cannot be trusted.”

Trust had always been a leap of faith and any trustful person could easily betray them without a second’s warning.

Al Mualim showed that.

“He’s dangerous.”

All of them were. They were Assassins. That was the point.

This is getting ridiculous.

“He’s planning something.”

Oh, he was. But he was also not that good with planning or thinking ahead but, it was alright, Altaïr was helping him in that regard.

The idea of ‘one-upping’ one of the beings that had played with the fates of mankind to push for the future they desire sounded like petty revenge and Altaïr was all for it because he could be quite petty if he wanted to.

“Are you even listening to me, Altaïr?”

“Yes.” Altaïr replied calmly, “You have made your point clearly, Malik.”

Malik glared at him as he retorted, “But you will not heed my warning nonetheless.”

“I will heed it.” Altaïr said, “It won’t matter if I do or do not though.”

“Altaïr…” Malik’s tone was both a warning and an annoyed resignation that Altaïr was quite used to.

“It’s fine, Malik.” Altaïr looked down at the reports he was meant to be reading, “I will keep a close eye on him and will act accordingly.”

“I am worried by what you think ‘accordingly’ means in this situation.” Malik dryly stated before sighing, “But I know you long enough to know my words will fall into deaf ears now that you have made your choice.”

“I truly hope it’s the right choice, Altaïr.” Malik said before walking away, “I will check in with the recruits and tell Rauf the changes we’re making in their training.”

“Thank you, Malik.”

Malik paused by the door and turned to look at Altaïr, looking both concerned and disturbed as he said, “Now I know you are planning something. You just thanked me.”

“And now I know you’re more paranoid than usual.” Altaïr retorted lightly before waving him off, “Have tea after talking to Rauf, Malik. It seems you desperately need a break.”

“I do not-” Malik stopped and let out an infuriated sigh before finally leaving the mentor’s open office on the second floor of the main room of Masyaf Castle.

Altaïr waited until he was sure Malik had left the castle before he looked up and asked, “And how are you today, Desmond?”

Desmond immediately admitted, “I started a rumor that Abbas cries during sex.”

Altaïr blinked at the honest answer before laughing.

#never a dull moment with desmond #malik is trying to keep everyone safe #altaïr is enjoying the chaos desmond is creating #desmond is just trying to change the past and save the world #ask and answer #assassin's creed #desmond miles #altaïr ibn la'ahad #malik al sayf #fic idea: assassin's creed #teecup writes/has a plot

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toracainz · 8 months

Text

Driver Picks the Music, Shotgun Shuts Their Cakehole

Masterlist

Summary: You and Jake decide to go on a road trip.

Warnings: Inaccurate depictions of DID (only knowledge from the show and some light research). Swearing. Established relationships. Spoilers for Case 63. References to the boys past trauma with water. Mild miscommunication. Verbal conflict due to frustration.

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: I am not fluent by any means in Spanish so if there is anything incorrect please let me know.

A/N: beta read by the wonderful @luvpedropascal and another friend that doesn’t have a tumblr lol.

A/N: this was for a fic exchange for the anniversary of Moon Knight, but as you can see I'm kind of late lol oh well! hope you enjoy!

Translations:

Mira, amor. = Look, love. Corazón = heart Mi tesoro, ¿qué pasa? = My treasure, what’s up? Cariño = Dear Dios, ¿eso es todo? = God, is that all? Lo lamento…realmente. = I’m sorry…really. Amor = love mierda = fuck Se lo juro. = I swear it. Nuestro amor. Nuestro sol. Nuestro corazón. = Our love. Our sun, our heart. luz de mi vida = light of my life

The eerie music of the podcast played in the background as the characters spoke. A man, who was apparently a doctor, talking (though he sounded just like the patient from the earlier part of the podcast) with the confused woman, a doctor herself…from the future?

“Let’s see, ‘Case 63’. It says your name is Eliza Beatrix Knight. You were admitted at 7:22 p.m. on November 24th. You were found naked at JFK airport in one of the bathrooms in Terminal 8 with paranoid ideations and confusion. You told a curious story about the end of the world in the future—“

“But the—the future??” She definitely sounded confused and a bit distressed.

“Yes, the future.” The doctor answered.

“Oh…wait. Wait. Okay. Wh—what year is it now?”

“You don’t know what year it is?”

“What year is it?” The woman repeated, a little agitated.

“It’s 2012, Ms. Knight.”

The only sound, other than the credits of the podcast, was the droning of wheels on pavement as you and Jake headed down the road. You had nearly begged Jake to listen to the podcast after you got back on the road from the last stop. You looked over to Jake, smirking as you studied his stoic, contemplative look. He suddenly let out a huff of a laugh, shifting in the driver's seat a bit.

“What?” you asked him, a little unsure of what to make of his reaction.

“That’s like…2 hours of my life I’ll never get back.”

“What?! Oh come on, you can’t be serious. That was a good show!” You insisted, mock offense on your face (though not entirely mocked).

“Mira, amor. It was…interesting, but just not my kinda thing. I mean, the guy was just bullshitting the whole time.” He shrugged, keeping hold of the steering wheel, his other elbow propped on the ledge of the window.

“Bullshitting??? Ugh, whatever. Putting it back on your old man music. Keep listening to this and I’ll have to put you in a home soon.” You teased as you reopened the music app and started his playlist. Frank Sinatra came to life in the speakers.

“‘Old man music’? These songs are classics and timeless. So are the dance moves.” He smirked glancing over at you, seeing your pout fighting off a grin. “I know you like it when I dance with you, corazón. Don’t hear you complaining then.”

“Because I have you to distract me from it.” Looking at the map on your phone, you tried to see how much further until the next stop.

You and Jake had been planning this trip for a while, just you, him, and the open road. The only thing that wasn’t accounted for, though, was Jake’s determination to pick the music, the snacks, and the places to stop. It wasn’t too obvious at first, especially when he was pointing out some pretty fun locations to go to, but it seemed like any time you made a suggestion, he would try and convince you to do something else. It was cute, with a bit of poking and some laughs about Jake being hard-headed, but the further into this trip you got, the more it started to bother you. Looking at the map, the both of you would be arriving pretty soon at the last motel before making the last trek to the final destination on the trip “itinerary”, Antelope Canyon.

~*~*~*~

Weeks Earlier

After you had mentioned going on a road trip, Jake took it upon himself to check out potential places and possible things to do there. Nothing had been discussed in earnest yet, but Jake's (and his headmates’) curiosity got the better of them. Vegas was discussed, San Francisco, and the Rocky Mountains, among other potential options. It wasn’t until Marc suggested the Grand Canyon that things really started rolling. Jake had in his mind that the Grand Canyon, while grand was honestly boring. He hadn’t expected Steven to agree with him, so the three began to look at other locations.

That’s when they found it. Antelope Canyon. Now that was a destination.

Steven offered to do the research since he actually enjoyed reading endless pages of websites or books, but Jake insisted that he would take care of everything. Looking through hiking reservations and things to do in the area around the canyon, Jake had started to really enjoy planning it all. He just knew you’d be excited for it all.

That is…until he read an article about some of the facts about the canyon and its geography. According to the article, the canyon was prone to flooding. Seeing that word made his blood run cold and his heart begin to pound. When he noticed his hand clenched tightly into a fist he had to consciously relax it. It was fairly understandable that if it rained in the area of the canyon then of course water collected, but the part that worried him and his headmates was that it could be dry in the canyon but rain elsewhere, and the canyon could still have a flash flood. There had even been ladders installed in the canyon for people to grab onto and climb to higher ground. At first, they were wooden, but those broke all too easily. They've since been replaced with metal ladders. Plenty of people had lost their lives to this all too familiar force of nature.

Once Jake learned about this, he began looking heavily into the weather of the area and the best time to go. Planning for the driest possible month that he could and making sure the projected weather was clear as it could be. Jake’s not delusional by any means, he knows that weather can be unpredictable so far in advance, but he had to try. Jake started to check the weather religiously to make sure things would work in his favor. He wasn’t taking any chances, wasn’t going to put the system in danger, and definitely wasn’t going to pull you along with them. He wouldn’t let that happen…not again.

So it was settled. Route. Destination. Activities. And the window of time they had to arrive.

~*~*~*~

Present

You both had been talking about taking a road trip for a while now and it wasn’t until a week or so ago that the two of you started talking and planning in earnest. Jake was the one that picked the route since he insisted on driving the whole way, but to your surprise, he also picked the destination - even going as far as to look at weather reports for the times that you two would be there. That left you to pick the snacks and the fun touristy stops along the way, giant rubber band ball-type attractions, that’s what road trips are all about right? Hearing you get excited by each new place you found along Jake’s route gave him the softest and warmest smile. This was how every night was spent leading up to the trip, you and him sitting on the couch, your legs over his, or laying in bed, his arm around you and getting giggly from all the excitement, an extended trip with your partner, your Jake.

What you didn’t know, and what you’ve rarely seen, was how Jake was stealing glances at you. He wasn’t exactly the talkative one in the relationship, but he didn’t mind, not when he could just observe and admire your energy. The smile on his face was content like waking up at your own pace in a comfy, warm bed. These simple moments were what Jake enjoyed most, these mundane, everyday moments. He never asked for much and he never needed much, so when he found you and you decided that you would give him your love, well that was all he could have ever asked for.

~*~*~*~

Pulling into the motel parking lot, the silence that Jake thought was comfortable was not so for you. Stewing away at how nitpicky Jake was being, how he was nearly dictating what you both did on the trip with almost no regard to what you wanted. You knew it wasn’t because he was trying to be mean. Jake liked to have control of situations. Having control meant a certain level of safety, and that’s just how his mind worked, protecting himself, protecting the system…protecting you. What you couldn’t understand was why. What sort of danger could come from the wrong kind of chip or soda being bought at the gas station?

You both grabbed your bags from the trunk and went into the room, starting each of your nightly routines…still, in silence, save for the small T.V. that had been turned on to some local news station. Then Jake chimed in on what side of the bed he would be sleeping on. You didn’t need him to tell you. You knew he would take the side closest to the window and door, that’s the side he always took.

“I know what side you sleep on. You don’t have to tell me!” you snapped not too unkindly. Funny how the bed would be the final straw. Jake stepped out of the bathroom. He was only half undressed as he was getting ready to shower (he thought showering with you, but the tone in your voice had him second-guessing).

“Mi tesoro, ¿qué pasa? If you want to skip the shower that’s fine, babe, just say so.” He fixed you with a confused look.

“Oh? So that I can decide?”

“Cariño, what are you saying? I don’t play head games, get it out. Start making sense or I’m go–”

“This whole trip…the whole trip, you have been so picky about everything. Where we stop, where we don’t stop, what snacks to get, where to stay and almost every time I suggest something you shoot it down. If it’s not your way it’s the highway is that it?” That was one thing that you were happy for in your relationship with Jake, and it certainly took some time to get to this point. Jake was right, he didn’t like playing head games. He didn’t like the whole “you should know what’s wrong” bit. He was never fully open about his own feelings, but clear communication? He was a staunch advocate. He wanted to know what was wrong, what was right, how he could meet you in the middle, all of it.

Hearing this outburst, his muscles tensed ever so slightly, his jaw tensing more. Jake tossed his shirt on the bed as he came over to his duffel bag, grabbing his toiletries bag, and starting back into the bathroom. “I’ve been picky. Picky. Dios, ¿eso es todo? And that’s what’s got you all worked up, just because I’m picky.”

“Just because. Worked up. This was supposed to be a fun trip and it is, it was! But damn it, Jake, it’s not fun for me when you can’t let go for two seconds. Nothing’s going to happen if we stop at some honey farm or a fruit stand or a fucking huge ball of twine!” The floodgates open, as you let out the building frustration from the past couple of days. It felt good to get it out, so it wasn’t buzzing around in your head any longer. Jake had been leaning against the bathroom counter, shoulders tense and hunched as he looked at himself in the mirror. You don’t know if Marc or Steven has anything to say about your outburst, if he’s listening to them, and right now that’s the least of your concerns.

You could see his jaw flexing and clenching as the gears were turning in his head, trying to come up with something to say.

“You want me to let go? Want me to just let things happen? Fine,” he threw his hands up. “Yeah, I’ll let go as soon as you learn some restraint. Think you can handle that for one more day? Hmm? You knew what you were getting into when you looped me into whatever you want to call this relationship.” He looked at you in the reflection as he grabbed what he needed and went to finally get in the shower.

“Fine. Sounds fantastic. Maybe tomorrow you can work on getting the stick out of your ass and actually enjoy the hike instead of worrying if a lizard’s going to be within thirty feet of us. Yeah, enjoy your shower.” You huff, going and sitting on the bed to watch T.V. while you wait for your turn with the shower. Flipping through the channels didn’t produce anything worth watching so you settled on the news again. Sometimes on the trip, you and Jake would shower together, make out, actually bathe, or both, and just enjoy those little moments. That was not in the plans tonight and you weren’t even sure how the bed situation would work tonight, there being only one, probably not a lot of cuddling.

Relationships have their rocky moments, that’s to be expected to some degree, but talking to each other and coming to an understanding…maybe once you both cool off you can have a more constructive conversation. Until then, you both needed some time to let the emotions come down from their boil, maybe on the drive tomorrow you two could talk, sort things out, otherwise it was going to be a long trip back to New York.

Jake eventually got out of the shower, curls wet and slicked back, and only in his underwear. You were upset with him, so stop looking at him like that…with all his muscles and tan skin and inky curls that started to spring back from their slicked state. You tried to shake it off as you got off the bed without a word to go for your own shower. Jake watched you go and once he heard the water start he sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he and his headmates tried to help come up with a way to salvage the trip. Sounds like partly cloudy days in the future.

~*~*~*~

That morning, after a not-so-pleasant night of sleeping as far away from each other as possible, though you're certain at some point in the night you could feel a strong hand gently caressing your shoulder, the two of you packed your things and got back on the road. It wasn’t much further to Antelope Canyon so the drive wasn’t terrible. It was certainly quiet though.

As Jake pulled into a parking space, he was the first to break the silence, gently grabbing your arm, stopping you as you started to get out of the car. When you look back at him it all started to flare up again. He’s stopped you from getting out of the car, decided things for you. You don’t mean to be on edge, it all just feels so raw.

“Lo lamento…realmente.” He says withdrawing his hand, holding it up to show he’s not keeping you, he only meant to get your attention, “We can talk about it on the hike, I just…I wanted to say it now. Before we get out there. I’m not expecting you to forgive me just because I said “I’m sorry”, I know I’m not the easiest person to live with, just ask Marc and Steven…” he paused, not entirely sure what else he could say. He really felt he was difficult to live with and he knew that his hypervigilance could get overbearing, but that’s something he intended to work on.

You listened to him, still feeling that boiling frustration, knowing that he meant it, he always means it. Jake clenched his fist, resting it against the gearshift trying to put the words together. “Let’s get out there…” He nodded, more to himself, gently hitting the gearshift with the side of his fist before getting out of the car to get the backpacks. While you grabbed yours Jake headed over to the information kiosk for maps, a weather radio, and to check in for the hike

~*~*~*~

It’s kind of amazing how being in a place like this could distract from the stresses you both came with. The smooth, waving walls of the canyon in those bright red and orange hues. It looks so ancient, mystical, alien, and absolutely breathtaking. You both were able to relax as you worked your way through trails, well you more than Jake who seemed to be clenching his jaw or muttering to himself (or Marc and Steven) a lot. Whatever it is they’re talking about, you hoped it wouldn't crop up into another argument, not when the hike had been going so well.

And that’s when it happened.

You suggested that you stop for a break, just to drink a little water, maybe eat a snack, take some pictures, or something, but Jake trudges ahead.

“We can go a little further, come on.” He said, pulling ahead now. It was as if the argument and his apology meant absolutely nothing to him. What in the hell was happening?! You never took Jake to go back on his apology or his word. Yes, the man would fib on occasion but he wouldn’t flat out lie like that…not to you.

“What? You have got to be kidding. After all that? For God’s sake, Jake you just couldn’t handle i,t could you? The whole hike you’ve been acting so uptight. Are you even enjoying this? This whole thing was your idea and now you have a look like someone just smelled the most gag-inducing stench.” You weren’t going to let it slide like you had in the car ride, you were going to call him out on it. This was your trip too and you wanted to go out and have fun. Which you were, but having a muttering cloud of gloom accompanying you was not helping.

Jake stopped, tilting his head back and looking to the sky, muttering more things (you couldn’t quite make it out, but it vaguely sounded like Spanish swearing), definitely a bit cloudy now but nothing too bad for now. Slowly, he lowered his head as he turned to look at you, regret clear on his face. “Amor, I swear this is the last time today…I uh, had looked up the trails online—just to be safe—I only meant…mierda…there’s a cool place up ahead. You've probably seen it in pictures, a beam of sunlight coming in…we can break there and after that…” he makes the motion of zipping his lips, tossing away the key, and holding up his hands in surrender.

Well, that was…unexpected. The worst part was, it was a good idea. With a huff you crossed your arms, contemplating the options and the fact that he really did mean what he said…he was trying, but you were still frustrated, and maybe(?) going to this special place meant that the whole rest of the time Jake would just lighten up and you could actually contribute to the trip.

“Fine. Yeah, fine, let’s go to this “cool place” and we’ll take a break there.” You shook your head, conceding. “But after that, you have to let me have some say, Jake—“

“I will. Se lo juro. Just thought you would like it and taking a break there you can take it all in like you do.”

He stood there waiting for you to rejoin the hike. Thankfully the place wasn’t much further, just as he said, and you looked around in awe at how nature could make such enchanting views. You were enjoying it and taking it all in, just as he said.

You both started to take off your backpacks, taking out a blanket and some snacks and drinks for the little makeshift rest stop this little place was about to become. The thing that was most mesmerizing was the beam of light in question, and yet again, he was right. You stood there drinking your water watching this marvel of nature, this beam of light so precise and almost like a sspotlight The sunlight almost looked tangible, so letting the inner kid in you come out for a little fun, you stuck your hand into the sunlight. That wonderful, imaginative part of you almost expected to feel it, well feel something other than the warmth it brought. Like it should have been hard like a stone column or fluid yet weighty like a stream or waterfall.

“Alright, I’ll give it to you. This is a really cool place to rest for a bit. Sorry for blowing up like that again. If you know any more places like this we should stop at, let’s make a plan okay? Together. We’re supposed to be enjoying the hike right? Just like you s—“

When you turned to look at him, you were met with a sight that that imaginative part of you was absolutely not expecting.

Jake.

Down.

On one knee.

Holding a small, velvet-covered box.

You didn’t know what to do, so you just gaped at the sight. Nerves were clear on his face as he opened the little box.

“Nuestro amor. Nuestro sol. Nuestro corazón. I know now that I wasn't being fair to you on this trip and I truly am sorry. You’ve put up with me, with Marc, and Steven when we were absolutely not the easiest to put up with. You accepted us, all of us, and everything that comes with being with someone like us…and we couldn’t be more thankful to have such a patient, loving, and strong partner. Because God knows you have to be strong to have to deal with three grown man-children.” Jake chuckles breathily, hoping the joke would help his nerves (it didn’t), not until he heard you chuckle too. The corner of his mouth quirks slightly, letting that little moment of levity give him the breathing room for what was about to come next.

“Will you marry us?”

You stood there still stunned, but now tears were trickling down your cheeks. Yeah, there was a lot to deal with, mostly due to their collective tempers and vastly different ways of doing things among other quirks…but you weren’t perfect, not by a long shot. There were plenty of things you did or said that they had to put up with too. But that’s the beauty of it, right? People are flawed. They mess up. They find someone to love them and they grow together…to work at being together, because it’s not easy, nothing in life is ever easy…but loving them…even after every argument, disagreement, or misplaced frustration…that was easy. How could you not?

You stepped closer to Jake. The last of the system that you met and once you had, everything just felt complete. Now, here he was before you, on behalf of himself and his headmates, asking you to love them for the rest of their lives. And you said yes…how could you not? You said yes again, nodding your head as he came to his feet, a nervous smirk blooming into an ecstatic grin as he plucked the ring from its box and slipped it on your finger.

It was a simple silver band with three diamonds set into it…one for each of them. You held up your trembling hand to admire it, your heart thrumming with what it represented. Looking at Jake, you wrapped your arms around him, as he did the same to you, your lips meeting each other. So much love and passion shared between you. It felt too soon when you both pulled away to catch your breath. When you looked into his eyes you saw his own tears threatening to slip away and down his cheeks, and you also saw the tenderness and deep love that he and his headmates shared for you.

After another kiss (and another), you both stand there in the beauty of the moment.

“I love you,” you finally say.

“I love you too, luz de mi vida. Like you wouldn’t believe. So much, that I made sure to plan as much of the trip as I could to try and make it memorable…turns out I made it exhausting and should have just had you help plan it.” Jake couldn’t wipe the smile from his face if he tried, you said yes and now you had the rest of your lives to plan more trips.

“Definitely should have consulted me. I have a keen sense for adventure, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And we have plenty of time to plan trips, annoy each other, love each other…and on the ride back, we will be having the best adventure.” You smile wide before Jake leans in, giving you another kiss which you happily reciprocate.

“I can’t wait.”

A/N: Antelope Canyon has a tendency to flood. This can apparently happen even if the rain occurred miles away. The boys were not only nervous about the proposal but also flooding, hence the weather research, monitoring, and radio.

taglist: @spacecowboyhotch @marc-spectorr @juneknight @mccn-bcys

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #moon knight fanfiction #jake lockley x reader #moon knight system x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfic

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queenshelby · 1 month

Text

An Illicit Affair

Part 23: Stalker

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

One week on...

Several days had passed since your affair with Cillian came to light and it came much to your surprise when, on Friday morning you saw something strange by the side of your block.

For the past four days now, there had been a black Mercedes lurking in the shadows of wherever you went and, if it wasn't for one part of your mind telling you not to be delusional, you thought that you were being followed.

Thinking about how absurd being followed sounded though you almost shook it off as a figment of your imagination or perhaps your guilty conscience exaggerating, but something about all this felt rather odd and even your best friend Enna agreed.

"The car is there again," you pointed out to Lucy as the two of you walked to the hospital together for your shift. " And I swear, it's been there the entire time. I could see it from the window upstairs."

Lucy raised an eyebrow at you, her curiosity piqued. "Are you sure it's the same car?" she asked, skepticism clear in her voice.

"Yes, I'm sure," you replied firmly. "Look, it's right there," you said, gesturing towards the parking lot. "It was parked outside the hospital yesterday too when I finished up my shift and I have seen it before in front of Cillian's unit,"

Lucy glanced over in the direction you were pointing and noticed the black Mercedes parked a few rows over. "Okay, fine. It does seem strange," Lucy conceded reluctantly. "But maybe it's just a coincidence?" she suggested, the doubt evident in her voice.

You shook your head adamantly. "No way, Em. It even parkes in the same spot every day. I'm telling you, someone is watching me."

Lucy gave you a concerned look, her normally bright and cheerful expression replaced with a more somber one. "Have you reported this to the police?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You sighed heavily, your shoulders slumping in defeat. "I can't really go to the police with this, Em. I mean, what am I going to tell them?" you asked, sighing deeply. "That I have been having an affair with my ex-boyfriend's father and now I suspect that his crazy ass wife might be stalking me?" you said, feeling utterly ridiculous at the mere prospect of uttering such ridiculous and scandalous words out loud. "Oh, and by the way, he is a famous actor too and she almost leaked a sex-tape of us after hiding a camera in his bedroom," you added sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

Lucy nodded understandingly. "Yeah, maybe not the best approach," she admitted. "But have you tried talking to Cillian about it?"

"No, because he already has enough shit to worry about," you told her, thinking about the turmoil that your affair had caused in his life. From the moment that Max had walked in on the two of you, nearly everything had spiraled out of control. Max had was refusing to speak to his father, and Danielle had threatened to ruin his career by leaking the sex-tapes if he didn't end things with you immediately. In the end, Cillian's attorney filed for an emergency injunction to prevent her from leaking the tape whilst, at the same time, serving her with divorce papers.

"I get that Y/N, but his wife is a nutcase. I read the medical files and whilst I do think that you are a little paranoid right now, you should at least talk to him about your concerns, just to err on the side of caution I mean," Lucy implored, her eyes fixed on yours, searching for understanding.

"I know, Em, but I don't even know where we will go from here," you confided, feeling the tight knot in your throat as you spoke. "We aren't in a relationship or anything and I feel like I need to give him some space right now. I don't want to burden him with my paranoia," you added, the words heavy with resignation.

Lucy nodded sympathetically, her heart going out to you in this moment. She knew how much you cared for Cillian, but she also knew the impact of the situation and the weight of the decisions that now lay before you both.

"I know Y/N, but you are still sleeping with him, are you not?" Lucy asked, concern clouding her features as she looked over at you. "Because his ex could have gotten wind of it and do something stupid now," Lucy worried.

"Yes, we slept with each other once since the incident at his house. He's been in Ireland mostly," you admitted, your voice barely audible. Emotion clogged your throat as you recalled the tenderness in Cillian's touch, the gentle brush of his lips on yours that had made you feel wanted and desired despite the turmoil in your lives. But that one time together had only added fuel to the wildfire of passion that could not be contained anymore. In spite of the chaos, you couldn't resist the temptation, and neither could he.

"And what did his lawyer say? Didn't he make it clear that you should keep your distance from each other at least until the separation hearing was over?" Lucy asked, another wave of concern sweeping over her.

"He did, I know. But we were careful. We met at a hotel, not his apartment," you explained, sighing deeply as you reflected on the intense, passionate encounter. "Cillian was upset and asked if he could see me. I could hear it in his voice that he was struggling so I said yes," you admitted with a shrug, your tone nonchalant and yet, cracking with emotion, evidence that you were still reeling from the gravity of the situation.

Lucy shifted her weight towards you. She hadn't seen you this distraught since your father's death and witnessing your heartbreak now made her feel helpless and frustrated.

"Okay, let me ask you something, Y/N," Lucy stated, searching deep into your eyes as she chose her words carefully. "Do you truly love him? I mean, enough to deal with all this drama and keep seeing him despite the potential backlash to your career if this comes out?" Lucy's voice was soft and sincere, her gaze steady on yours.

You let out a pained sigh, your shoulders slumping with the weight of the question. "I don't know, Em. All I know is that I've never felt this way before, and I can't seem to shake him off. Not that I even want to. I just wish things were different, you know? That we had met under other circumstances, which wouldn't make it so bad," you sighed, your voice trembling as you spoke the words.

"I will always have your back Y/N, but just think about it for a minute," she began, her tone gentle yet firm. "Cillian is over twenty years older than you. His family dynamics are a mess, and he is your ex-boyfriend's father nonetheless which means that, if it was to come out - and it will come out eventually - then the press will have a field day with it. Your life and career will be covered in headlines that will ruin everything you've worked for thus far," Lucy warned, and she was right.

But you struggled to push Cillian out of your mind. He was charming, experienced, passionate, and so unlike Max. The attraction was instant and undeniable.

"I know that, Lucy. I know that it is reckless, but he makes me feel things I can't even describe. He is not just a fling, not just a temporary high, but someone who understands me, someone who fills in the spaces that no one else ever could," you confessed while walking side by side with Lucy, the hospital already in sight.

Lucy nodded, letting out a deep breath. "Then you need to protect yourself and be prepared for whatever comes next," she advised, as she touched your arm comfortingly. "That includes talking with Cillian about your potential stalker," she told you and, just as you approached the hospital entrance, the black Mercedes pulled up as well.

"This is ridiculous. I am going to confront this woman," you declared, breaking away from Lucy to stride towards the parked car but Lucy stopped you.

"No, you won't! It could make things worse," Lucy warned, grabbing your arm to stop you.

You paused, considering her words. "You have a point," you said, taking a deep breath.

"Talk to Cillian about it and let him deal with his crazy ass wife," Lucy told you. She knew how dangerous Danielle could be as well after having read her medical files and knowing about the threats she had made against you and Cillian.

"I will talk to him tonight," you assured Lucy, making up your mind but, just as you walked into the hospital's reception area, you were met with yet another surprise as Max was standing there, seemingly waiting for you.

"Max!" you exclaimed, your heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach as you saw the cold, hard look in his eyes. "What are you doing here?" you wanted to know, hoping that he wouldn't make a scene as, seemingly, he appeared somewhat intoxicated.

Max simply stared at you for a moment, his blue eyes full of anger and hurt before he blurted out something rather inappropriate to upset you.

"You are such a fucking home wrecker, you know that?" Max spat bitterly, with a drunken slur, causing you to wince at his unforgivable choice of words. "My father is divorcing my mother because of you!" Max snapped, jabbing a finger at you as his anger started to boil over.

"Max, please! Not here!" you told him sternly, looking around at the people in the hospital lobby who were casting curious glances your way. "Let's go somewhere private and talk."

"Oh, of course," he chuckled drunkenly. "You don't want anyone else to hear that you fucked my fucking father," he snarled, the hurt and anger in his voice palpable.

People around you had started to stare as Max's voice had risen. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, the discomfort and shame building up in the pit of your stomach.

"Come with me. Now," you hissed firmly under your breath, gripping tight onto Max's forearm as you dragged him away from the prying eyes in the hospital lobby, his words stinging your heart with an unbearable pain.

You had never intended for such chaos to unfurl when you became entangled with Cillian, knowing fully that your actions carried the potential for significant collateral damage. But yet, here you were—plunged into murky waters, powerless to stem the tide of destruction.

In a small consultancy room, a few corners away from the main lobby, you closed the door behind you and spun around to face Max, whom you hadn't seen since the disastrous confrontation in Cillian's apartment.

"Max, listen to me," you began, your voice low and soothing as you tried to reason with him. "I never meant for any of this to happen. Your father and I—we never planned for any of this. We just connected and one thing led to another," you continued before Max interrupted you.

"You slept with my father! Do you know how fucked up that is?" Max said, his words slurring together. "Is that like a thing you are into? Some kind of fetish?" Max sneered, his dark eyes flashing angrily at your words. "Or did you sleep with him because he is famous? Is that it?" Max went on, unable to contain his disgust. " What the hell is wrong with you, Y/N?" Max demanded, his voice shaking with emotion.

You swallowed hard, the lump forming in your throat as you struggled to find the right words to defend yourself but nothing came out.

"This is so disgusting," Max muttered, his anger slowly giving way to sadness as he slumped down into one of the faded leather consulting chairs, staring blankly ahead as he tried to process the turn of events. "God, we used to date and now you are sleeping with my dad. How low can you get?"

You took in a sharp breath at his words, trying to find purchase in the face of his bitterness yet being unable to deny the devastating truth behind it. You couldn't explain to him the intimacy and the connection you shared with Cillian—things that went beyond sex. Things that Max was not privy to. Things that you had never experienced in your previous relationships either.

So, you decided not to divulge too much at that moment.

Instead, you opted to stand there, silent for a while, allowing Max to gather his thoughts. The atmosphere in the room had grown thick and heavy.

Finally, you took a deep breath. "You have every right to feel angry, betrayed, and confused," you began to explain. "I can assure you that what happened between your father and me was never intended. It just... well, it happened and I, uhm, I am in love with him," you admitted softly. You buried your gaze into the carpeted floor, the weight of your guilt and embarrassment making it difficult for you to face him. You could feel the temperature in the room drop significantly, as if it shares the same discomfort he felt.

"Are you fucking serious?" Max suddenly exploded, jumping up from his chair in disbelief and shock. "He's nearly twenty years older than you, for Christ's sake!" he was almost shouting now, his words reverberating off the walls of the small room, causing you to jump in your seat. "Fuck, I know," he then said, chuckling. "You have daddy issues," he asserted before explaining himself. "Your father died and now you are fucking mine. It's like a sick fucking fantasy coming to life, isn't it?" Max said, a mixture of bitterness and disgust in his voice.

You couldn't help but feel as though he had slapped you across the face. The words he had just spoken to you were beyond cruel, and they cut you like a knife. Your whole body trembled with shock and anger, your hands shaking like a leaf.

Standing up to confront you some more, Max approached you. "So, tell me Y/N, seriously, how does it feel to have someone old enough to be your father between your legs? Does it give you a twisted sense of pleasure or fulfillment? Because, Jesus, that is some seriously twisted stuff you have going on there in your head," Max went on. "It's a shame your own father couldn't fulfill those fantasies for you before he died and you had to go after mine instead," he then added with a sarcastic snicker, the cruelty in his voice visibly increasing and, by this point, you couldn't take it anymore and lashed out and slapped him right across the cheek.

"Enough!" you said with great emotion in your voice at the mentioning of your father.

Max had struck a nerve with his insensitive and derogatory words ad you stared at him in disbelief. His cheek was now flushed red from the force of your slap and, for a moment, neither of you spoke, caught up in the stunned silence that hung in the air.

"I never intended to hurt you or your family, Max. I deeply regret what has happened and I am truly sorry for the pain I have caused," you told him, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks.

"Save it Y/N! Just know that you ruined not only mine, but also my mother's life," Max spat bitterly, his words cutting you deeply as he turned around and stormed out the room.

Hot, angry tears trailed down your cheeks as you watched him leave, your heart heavy with guilt, regret, and sadness and when Lucy came to check on you, she found you slumped over the cold steel of the examination table in the consultancy room, your body trembling with sobs, your heart shattered into a million pieces.

You didn't need to tell her what happened, Lucy could read you like an open book. She took you into her arms and held you close as you cried for the hurt you had inflicted and the relationship that could never be salvaged.

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#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy fanfiction

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

AITA for not watching my sick goddaughter and then not wanting to watch her sick brother

*fake names used obviously

Two days ago I got a message from my goddaughter's mom, Nancy, saying that my goddaughter, Natasha, had thrown up at school. The reason Nancy let me know was because her husband would be picking up Natasha's little brother, Dennis, who I watch from 7:30 AM to 3:30 PM most days.

Anyway, I have an extreme, irrational fear of throwing up. So after Nancy let me know Natasha was sick, I was afraid Nancy would then ask if Natasha could come over to my house the next day along with Dennis. Nancy works the night shift so she sleeps during the day and her husband works from 8 AM to 4 PM. I've watched both kids since they were infants. I love them as if they were my own, but when they're sick with a stomach bug, or just throwing up for whatever reason, I would prefer they stayed home away from me so that I can avoid getting what they have lol.

I've always felt bad about this, because they're little and I feel like at my grown age I should be okay with being around them if they've thrown up. Yet, I find myself internally freaking out about getting sick AND I get so paranoid I swear I make myself sick sometimes. Nancy knows this about me.

Sure enough, Nancy calls me and nonchalantly asks if Natasha can come over the next day with Dennis because the school told her Natasha couldn't return for 24 hours. Usually I would give in and say yes because I feel bad saying no, but recently my brother's have reminded me that Nancy only pays me 200 dollars every two weeks to watch Dennis four days a week, eight hours a day. Nancy has acknowledged that she'd have to pay way more at a daycare, so she appreciates what I, and my family do for them.

I love the kids, I really do, but despite having known their parents for so long it feels as though Nancy and her husband only really see me and my family as the help and almost expect us to always be available. Or maybe I'm just projecting my insecurities onto them about not feeling appreciated enough? Which I know is bad, but it's instances like this that have bothered me in the past. You wouldn't take the children to a daycare if they've thrown up right? Or if they're sick with something like covid (which they gave us like two years ago), or if they have a fever, but they've brought them over anyway. It feels mean, you know? Like I love the kids, but I don't want to get sick. Maybe I'm just a horrible, paranoid, awful person and I do think that sometimes. Ha ha, is this an instance in which it would be ok to set a boundary🤔😭

On top of that, I don't charge Nancy extra (nor does she offer to pay) when she asks me to watch the kids on the weekends for a few hours or when she's got time off of work and wants to bring them over. I know this is my fault, because I do not charge her, but again I feel bad asking for more money. My biggest fear for a long time was that she would stop bringing the kids over if I did ask for a little raise or asked her not to bring them over if they were sick, but was always reminded by my brothers that Nancy didn't want to pay for daycare. Still I felt too ashamed to ask for more babysitting money or for Nancy or her husband to keep the kids home sick, and again I feared she would find someone else to watch the children.

Anyway, I told Nancy no. I was very apologetic and reminded her that I get really paranoid when someone is sick throwing up. I told her I just didn't want to get sick because then I'd be out for one to two days. Which would mean I wouldn't be able to watch Dennis and she or her husband would have to miss out on a day of work. Nancy sounded let down, maybe annoyed? I'm not sure, I can't remember. I am kind of spiraling about it as I'm typing this out now. I feel really bad that I said no, especially because Nancy called me from her car so Natasha heard me say no. Luckily, Natasha was happy that she would get to go spend time with her mom at work. Nancy works in an office as the manager of a warehouse, so it's not like Natasha had to wait in some break room or alone somewhere.

Then tonight I get a message from Nancy saying Dennis threw up, and the panic set in all over again. I feel bad telling her to keep him, even though she eventually offered to keep him home after my many questions: what time did it happen; did he only puke once; does he have a fever; how is he feeling now? I'm sure she's annoyed that I might say "Yes, please keep him." Because that would mean she would either have to stay awake with him and not sleep before work tomorrow night, or that her husband would have to stay home. I think I'm going to tell her to keep him. I feel bad, but I guess not bad enough, huh? I'm trying to justify it to myself, I know, but that's why I'm here. Am I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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jlfletcher · 2 months

Text

All I Really Want Is You

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

youtube

Breakdown

I'm overworking 'til the sundown

Don't see the light inside my head now

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

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

I need to see you in my window

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

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

And I whisper

All I really want is you

What would you do?

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

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

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

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

Laying in the rain with you

Middle of June

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All I really want is you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What would you do?

Sleeping outside, the moon

Tripping with you

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

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

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

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

Head down

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What question?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lyla!”, he groans in annoyance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And we're escaping through the window

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

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

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

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

And I whisper

“What?”, you tilt your head curiously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you truly not eat well?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, may you please-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All I really want is you

What would you do?

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

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

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

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

“So what’s the issue here then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, you think so?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, now you’re pouting.”

“Not pouting.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I am not.”

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

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

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

Laying in the rain with you

Middle of June

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All I really want is you

What would you do?

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

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

Sleeping outside, the moon

Tripping with you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All I really want is you

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

I love you.

All I really want is you

What would you do?

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

“Never.”

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

All I really want is you

Is you, is you, is you

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

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

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wolffoxnation2 · 2 months

Text

The Cupid scene but make it unrequited? Valgrace

Meant to finish this yesterday but couldn't get it done in time so heres it now. I'm not completly happy with it but im just glad its done.

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"You cannot lie to Cupid, Leo Valdez. If you let your shame and sadness rule you...well, your fate will be even sadder than mine," Favonius said, and Leo could have sworn there was pity in his eyes before the god disappeared in the wind.

Leo felt like he was back in Khione's ice palace. There was no way this wind god he just met knew his deepest, darkest, never-to-be-said-out-loud feelings. Right?.

Right?.

No, he must be talking about something else, and Leo is just being stupid and paranoid. He has to be.

Fortunately, or, more unfortunately, Leo didn't have the time to dwell on the ominous words of wind gods.

Because the ground was shaking. Why was the ground shaking?

So. A voice said.

Something zipped past his face and nicked his ear, throwing him off his feet and into Jason. Pain blossomed in his right ear, and he was pretty sure he was bleeding.

"You okay?" Jason asked, catching him in his strong arms.

Leo winced, holding a hand to his injured ear as he scrambled to his feet, trying not to think about the fact he just fell in Jason's arms. "Yeah, I'm good," he muttered.

You come to claim the sceptre. The voice said behind them, more like stating rather than asking.

Leo turned to where the voice was coming from, but no one was there.

"Cupid!" Jason called, standing at Leo's back with his sword drawn, "Where are you?".

The voice—Cupid laughed. It definitely did not sound like it belonged to a sweet baby angel's. It sounded rich and velvety but also threatening— like an ember in a fire before burning a house to the ground.

Where you least expect me. Cupid answered, As love usually is.

Leo's heart skipped a beat as something invisible slammed into Jason and hurled him across the street. He toppled down a set of concrete steps and sprawled on the floor of an excavated Roman basement.

I thought you'd know better, Jason. Cupid's voice circled overhead like a vulture. You've found true love after all. Or do you still doubt yourself?

"Jason!" Leo screamed, scrambling down the steps.

Jason took his hand and got to his feet. "I'm okay! Just sucker punched by an angel."

Oh, Did you expect me to play fair? Cupid laughed. Make no mistake; I am no angel, Jason Grace. I am Love. I am never fair.

Oh boy, do I know that. Leo thought dryly before Jason swept him off his feet.

Literally not...not metaphorically.

Leo was swept into Jason's chest as Jason intercepted an arrow that would have gone straight into Leo's chest with his sword. The arrow exploded against the nearest wall, giving them a nice limestone shower.

Of course, Jason wasn't done giving Leo butterflies in his stomach and grabbed his hand, pulling him up the steps and behind another wall as another arrow rained down on them, shattering a column nearby into a thousand pieces.

"Is this guy Love or Death?" Jason growled, still holding Leo's hand.

Thanatos and I are often not so different. Cupid said from somewhere above, except Death is usually kinder.

Leo understood that more than he should: Death is just...well, death. The End. Just boom, you're dead! No more pain. No more problems. And if you're lucky, you get to chill in Elysium for eternity.

While Love is...terrifying: It hurts, sometimes it doesn't last long, and some just don't get it (cough cough).

"We just want the sceptre!" Jason shouted, poking his head above the stone wall. "We're trying to stop Gaia! Are you on the gods' side or not?"

A second arrow shot at the air dangerously close to Jason's head, landing on the ground near Leo's feet and glowing white-hot.

The arrow's temperature shot past 2,397 F (Hephaestus power.) before combusting into a geyser of flame.

Love is on every side. Cupid said. "And no one's side. Don't ask what Love can do for you.

"Great," Jason said. "Now he's spouting greeting cards as well as trying to kill us."

"It's official. Queen was right; Too much Love kills you," Leo joked. If Love is gonna kill him in the end, then at least he wants to make Jason laugh before they both die.

Leo caught a ghost of a smile on Jason's lips before another arrow landed between them, ruining the moment.

You can't hide from Love. It will always find you no matter what. Cupid's voice said nearby.

Leo's hair sparked; the idea of burning the feathers off that smug, overgrown chicken's wings was getting more and more enticing. He knew Cupid was toying with them, enjoying their discomfort as he shot his stupid arrows.

Another arrow narrowly missed him, and something inside of him snapped.

He snatched the arrow up and threw it back where it came from. "Enough games, show yourself!"

Lucky for him, he had good aim. The arrow hit something and hung in the air for a moment before dissolving, leaving no trace: not even a spot of ichor that could help pinpoint his location.

"...Very good, Leo," Cupid said, though it was strained. There wasn't a wound, but it must have hurt. "At least you can sense my presence. Even getting a glance at true love is more than most Heroes manage. Maybe there's hope for you after all".

"So we get the sceptre?" Jason asked.

Cupid laughed. Leo was seriously getting sick of that laugh.

Oh no, there is still much you can do for me.

Jason started to speak, "But—"

An arrow shot through the air, zipping past Jason and hitting Leo square in the shoulder.

"Leo!"

There was a burst of pain in Leo's right shoulder, and suddenly, he was back at the Wilderness School again.

He had just met this cool guy, Jason. He was also a foster kid like him. Jason seemed too good for a school like this. He wouldn't tell him and Piper what he was here for, just that his case worker, Juna— Juno or something — sent him here.

Piper told him later on that she thought Jason was kinda hot.

Leo thought so too but he didn't tell her that.

Another arrow hit him in the back this time.

He wasn't sure when Piper and Jason started dating; it had only felt like a day had passed since they met.

He pretended it didn't hurt.

He didn't dare ruin their happiness.

So he just smiled and bared it every time they flirted with each other and told jokes every time they kissed.

"Stop it!" Leo shrieked, "None of it was real! Hera faked everything!"

Not everything, Cupid said softly, and a third arrow dug into his skin.

This time he was on their first quest in Boreas's ice palace.

Khione told them he couldn't come with them to see Boreas because of his fire.

He played it off that he wasn't hurt about it, even though it did. It wasn't the first or last time someone was scared of him.

Jason tried to defend him at first with his hand on Leo's shoulder, which only made him love him more.

And it sting more when Jason walked away holding hands with Piper, leaving him alone with Cal.

It was fine. None of it was real, not even his feelings were, and even if they were, it's not like he could act on them. He was just the funny guy, the mechanic, the seventh wheel. He wasn't supposed to fall for his male best friend, who was already dating his other best friend. He wasn't supposed to want something more than friendship with Jason.

He bit back the tears that were already threatening to fall. The grass at his feet was starting to smoke. "Show yourself!" He screamed.

It is a costly thing, Cupid said, looking on the true face of Love.

Another column shattered. Jason barely scrambled out of its way in time.

My wife Psyche learned that lesson, Cupid said, She was brought here aeons ago when this was the site of my palace. We only met in the dark. She was warned to never look upon me, and yet she could not stand the mystery. She feared I was a monster. One night, she lit a candle and beheld my face as I slept.

Jason said something, but Leo couldn't hear him over the sound of his own heart pounding in his chest. He could still somehow hear Cupid though. Of course, Love was the only thing he could hear other than his heart.

Cupid laughed from somewhere at the edge of the Amphitheater. I was too handsome, actually. A mortal can't look upon a god's true appearance without suffering grave consequences; just look at poor Semele. My mother, Aphrodite, cursed Psyche for her distrust. My poor lover was tormented, forced into exile and given impossible tasks to prove herself. She was even sent to the underworld on a quest to show her dedication. She earned her way back to me, but she suffered greatly.

Leo had no clue what he was talking about, but it sounded like he was a terrible husband.

Jason thrust his sword into the sky like he was a demigod He-man and was about to yell, 'By the power of Jupiter!' and beat up Cupid.

Unfortunately, he did not do that.

Instead, the ground shook, and lightning blasted a crater where Cupid's voice was coming from.

There was silence, and for a moment Leo thought it was over and that they could get the sceptre and leave. And hopefully, never speak of this day again.

Leo should have known they were never that lucky.

An invisible force—Cupid, knocked Jason to the ground, sending his sword skittering across the road.

A good try, Cupid said, his voice already distant. But love isn't so easily pinned down.

A wall collapsed, Jason barely managed to roll out of the way.

That was enough for Leo.

"Hey!" Leo yelled, waving his arms around. "It's me you want! Not him!. Leave him alone!"

Poor Leo Valdez. The god's voice was patronizing and tinged with disappointment. Do you really know what You want, much less what I want? My beloved Psyche risked everything in the name of Love to win my trust back. And you — what have You risked in my name?

"I'm literally saving the world!" He yelled, clenching his fists, "I've faced way worse! You don't scare me!"

I scare you very, very much. Face me. Be honest.

Jason struggled to get up off the ground, and a piece of Leo's heart broke. This was all his fault. He knew exactly what Cupid wanted. But he didn't want to admit it just yet.

All around Leo, the ground started to heat up. Grass smoked, and stones steamed.

"Give us Diocletian's sceptre." He said, trying to put his best brave face on. "We don't have time for games."

Games? Leo's breath was knocked away as a hand slapped him sideways into a granite pedestal. Love is no game! It is no flowery softness! It is hard work — a quest that never ends. It demands everything you have — especially honesty. Only then does it rewards.

Pain blosomed from Leo's...everywhere. His head spun from the pain, and the ground started to heat up more. Stones were starting to crack, and the grass was starting to spark. All it would take was one more push, and everything would burn.

Jason was up now and had retrieved his sword, "Leo!" he called, "What does this guy want from you?".

Leo's lip trembled. Everything was going so wrong. He didn't want to admit it. He didn't want to tell Jason. "I don't know!" He yelled back, and an arrow embedded itself in the pedestal, inches away from Leo's face.

Tell him, Leo Valdez, Cupid ordered. His voice was starting to get less patient now. Tell him you're a coward, that you're afraid of yourself and your feelings. Tell him why you hide among your machines like your father. Tell him the real reason you run and why you're always alone.

Leo gritted his teeth, his entire body trembling with pain and frustration. Cupid's words cut through him like a knife, exposing the raw truth that he had been desperately trying to bury.

The grass started to burn and the stone's cracks got bigger.

"I... I can't," Leo stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't tell him."

Cupid's laughter echoed around them, mocking and cruel. "You see, Jason Grace? Your friend is afraid. Afraid of his own feelings, afraid of the truth. He hides behind his jokes and his bravado, but deep down, he knows."

Leo let loose a guttural scream, and like a volcano erupting; everything exploded at once.

Magma burst from the rocks, splitting them wide open. The grass combusted into green flames — Greek fire —he really is going to burn everything down.

"H—haaa"

Leo laughed through the tears. It was really all he could do and all he really ever did. It was funny really; he'd worked so hard to shove everything down, yet it was all destroyed in a fiery explosion in less than an hour.

A nearby tree collapsed dangerously close to Jason as the fire consumed it. "Leo! What is he talking about?" He almost couldn't hear his voice over the fire.

Will you hide forever, Leo Valdez? Cupid taunted, who unfortunately can still be heard because not even fire can shut him up. Will you let fear rule your heart, or will you finally have the courage to face the truth?

He didn't want to face the truth. He was too scared of what would happen. What might Jason say. How he'd react.

He just wanted to keep things the same.

Even if it kills him.?

Leo sobbed, and the flames burned brighter. If this was love then he didn't want it. Or maybe if love was this painful then he deserved it. Another arrow pierced his back—or maybe that was the feeling of his heart breaking more—and more images flashed through his mind.

He was back on that mountain in Colorado. Jason had his arms around Piper, his face scrunched up in concern. Leo pretended it didn't bother him. It was cold, and Piper ended up getting hyperthermia. He had tried to ignore the aching in his chest. He didn't want to think about how much he wanted to be in her place.

After their quest, they left him alone while he worked on the Argo II. He named it after the ship the first Jason sailed on.

It was all for Jason.

He was back on the Argo right after he had fired on New Rome—Jason's home. Everyone was angry with him, and Jason was in the infirmary; some asshole threw a brick at his head.

He didn't go down to him. He couldn't face Jason.

It was all his fault.

Jason got hurt because of him.

And he didn't even have the guts to face him.

There were more scenes like this flooding his senses. At some point, his brain switched off, and he was just drowning in agony. He couldn't move or speak.

He was weak.

Meanwhile, the flames grew to an inferno of green and reds, drowning out everything. Leo's hair was a white flame. An outline of wings caught fire for a moment before being put out again.

"Interesting!" Cupid's voice said from somewhere above. Do you have strength after all?

"I...I can't," Leo said, though it sounded more like a whimper. He was on his knees now.

Heh, too weak to admit your feelings and too weak to stand, his mind mocked in Cupid's voice.

Still hiding, Cupid said above, a flame burned an outline of a wing tip before going out again. You do not have the strength.

Leo sobbed. He really was weak. He was going to burn everything down just because he didn't want to admit his feelings.

"Leo" Jason yelled from somewhere. "It's okay! I get it!"

Leo stared at the burning grass below him. It was too hot for tears to fall. Only steam came from his eyes.

"No, you don't," He said defeatedly. Jason didn't understand. He couldn't understand. If he understood, then he wouldn't be so nice to Leo. "There's no way you understand. If you did you'd hate me".

And so you run away again, Cupid chided, From yourself, from your feelings, and from your friends.

The fire had engulfed Cupid's wings now. But the god laughed cruelly and blew it away.

"Leave him alone Cupid," Jason croaked somewhere. "This isn't your..."

Oh gods, he was hurting Jason again. The smoke is choking him.

Cupid's laugh echoed from above the flames. But oh, it is exactly my business, Jason Grace. Love is me. I am love.

"Leo!" Jason choked out through the smoke.

Oh, you're killing him, you're killing him. Leo's brain screamed. You're a monster, you're such a fucking monster, and you're weak.

"Look, I don't care if you're in love with Piper!"

He doesn't understand. He doesn't. He doesn't. Leo's brain screamed over and over again.

Cupid laughed again, and Leo's will broke.

"I—I'm not in love with Piper," Leo said, and everything seemed to go silent.

The fire subsided and all of Leo's fight and denial went out at once.

Cupid circled Leo like a shark. His form was visible now—long blond hair, muscular in a simple white frock and jeans, snowy white wings that were singed at the tips. The bow and quiver slung over his shoulder were weapons of war—not toys. His eyes were as red as blood, as if every heart in the world was broken and squeezed dry into one poisonous mixture.

Leo vaguely recalled that some think that Eros was a son of Ares and Aphrodite. And he could see why:

Love and War were the most painful things in the world.

He gestured for Leo to continue.

"I have a crush on you, Jason." Leo said.

The fire died down so Leo could see Jason's face.

And he swore he saw pity in his eyes.

The End

#heros of olympus #pjo headcanons #pjo #leo valdez #percy jackson heroes of olympus #pjo jason grace #jason grace #valgrace #Pjo cupid #Writing #Wolffox's writing #percy jackson #pjo leo valdez #piper mclean #only mentioned tho #pjo fanfic

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