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hugshughes · 4 months

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Rose Bowl, Baby! J. McCarthy

JJ McCarthy x fem!reader

synopsis - JJ wins it all, and he has his girl right with him the whole time.

wc - 2k!

contains - THIS IS SOOOOOO CUTE AWWW, cursing, stressed!reader (ME TOO AS FUCK), fluff, kissinnnnnnn, hugginnnnn, cute shit, FUCK THE TIDE :D, um that's it! oh established relationship!

an - unedited lol sorry i just wrote this in like two hours! 😭JJ😭BABY😭WON😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I WAS SHOUTING AND SCREAMING AND I DANCED. especially because my mother, brother, and sister were all pulling for Bama to make me mad. LAUGHED IN THEIR FACES LMAOOOOO. i was on facetime with my man for like half the game since i am a umich student... WAIT DO U GUYS KNOW THAT....? i dont think ive told u guys that... SURPRISE!!!!!! anyway no one reads these anyway so. ENJOYYYYYYYYYYY :)))))))!

One minute and thirty eight seconds. One minute and thirty eight seconds, that's how long JJ and the Wolverine's offense had to score a touchdown. 2nd & Goal, four yards to go. You held JJ's mom's hand as you took deep breaths, desperately trying to calm down. JJ could do this, you knew it. You stared him down as he stood infront of Coach Harbaugh, Alabama had called the last time out of the game.

Michigan needed this score to take the game to overtime. JJ knew, you knew, everyone did. Once JJ clapped in the middle of the huddle, the offense started dispersing back into their spots on the field. Jay's eyes met yours, they had multiple times all night. He knew exactly where you sat, he'd made you text him your seat numbers before the game. You let go of his mom's hand and gestured your hands over your ears, headphones, you always told him. Just pretend it's just you and your guys. Block out everything else. He nodded at you, cracking a little smile before taking a deep breath and running out to the field, putting his helmet back on. His mom melted over the interaction, leaving you blushing.

You crossed your fingers and said a prayer, you'd prayed more than once tonight, you'd been praying about this games for weeks. You held his mom's hand in one of yours, and gripped your 'J' necklace in your other, bouncing on the balls of your feet. The play clock was running low, JJ clapped his hands, beckoning for the ball. It went straight to his hands, he looked around for maybe a second before passing precisely to Roman. He caught it, he had an open lane, he's in the end zone! Holy shit, he's in the end zone!

You jumped, screaming JJ's name, turning to hug his parents. You jumped up and down, a grin wide on your face as you cheered for your boy. His mom wrapped an arm around you as you watched him tearily.

The next Michigan drive was messy, and had you scared, but when the time ran out, you were jumping up and down, shouting and cheering, hugging everyone around.

"Our boy did it!"

You nodded, laughing as you wiped tears from your eyes. The game wasn't over, you knew that. JJ's eyes found yours again, he shook his head in disbelief with a grin, gesturing headphones to you. You nodded, fanning your face from the tears, but smiling so wide it didn't matter.

You sighed happily when you watched Alabama defer their OT possession, that's what JJ wanted, if the game went to overtime, he wanted to go first, it would put more pressure on The Crimson Tide to go second in the long run.

You held your necklace close to your mouth as you closed your eyes, letting out deep breaths. JJ had this, you knew it.

The offensive and defensive lines faced each other at the Alabama 25. JJ clapped, the ball was sent straight to his hands, he quickly handed the ball off the Blake, who scurried around the defenders, landing at the Alabama 17. 'Thank God for Blake Corum' you whispered to yourself.

You saw JJ hiding a smile behind his mouth guard, and you knew this was it. Jay claps, and the ball is snapped straight to him, the ball goes straight to Blake, who has a completely open lane.

"Go Blake, go!"

You screamed out, feeling Megan's hand grip yours. You held your intertwined hands up, watching Blake run. He was in the end zone, yes!

"Yes! JJ, yes!"

You screamed, jumping up and down you as watched your boy cheer. He did it! Thank God! You hugged everyone again, cheering some more when the kick went through the posts. The game still wasn't over, the defense still had to come out and play this game. You knew JJ wouldn't be able to assist his team anymore on the field, but you also knew he was now gonna be the biggest hype man for his defensive teammates.

You bit on your dark blue acrylic nails as you watched Alabama line up at the Michigan 25. You winced as the game went from 3rd & goal at the Michigan 14 to 4th & goal at the Michigan 3. One more play, make or break.

You saw Jalen Milroe clap for the ball, and run straight into the O-line of Michigan. Nothing! He got nothing! Oh my God, Michigan won! You watched JJ sprint onto the field as you screamed, jumping up and down for the third time. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you shouted, hugging Michigan fans you didn't know. Your smile couldn't have been punched off of your face.

The blue and maize confetti flew, you watched tearily as the Michigan guys flooded the field. You watched JJ grab his rose, talking to a reporter. His bright smile and gorgeous face was spread on every screen in the stadium. Your boy had done it, finally. You watched as your sweet boy accepted the Rose Bowl trophy with Blake, his smile never leaving his face.

You ran down the few rows to the bottom row of the bleachers, standing with other Michigan player families as the boys were dispersing back to the sideline, finding their loved ones. JJ, being the star quarterback he was, took a while longer to get over to you guys, but it didn't matter to you.

You two locked eyes, matching smiles on your faces as he ran over to your group. You let him talk to his parents and sisters first, before he moved over to you.

"Come'ere baby!"

You grinned as you leaned down over the barrier, JJ's hands grabbing at your waist to safely pull you closer, kissing you passionately. Your hands cupped his face, as you both smiled into the kiss. You pulled away, whispering to him with a big smile.

"You did it lovey!"

He nodded, his bright smile lighting up your heart.

"Can you just jump the barrier instead of going back through the halls?"

"S'that allowed?"

He looked around, quickly asking an employee of the stadium standing down against the barrier. The employee looked at JJ with wide eyes, nodding at the quarterback, though he probably didn't exactly have the position to answer him.

"See? You're fine, c'mon angel!"

You looked around, seeing one of the guy's little brother being passed over the barrier, then to Megan who shrugged with a smile, nodding for you to go ahead. You slide your phone in the pocket of your jeans, sitting on the barrier before turning around towards JJ, who held his hands on your waist.

"Can't believe I'm doin' this."

JJ laughed, pulling you down as you slightly jumped off the wall, down into his arms on the field. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

"I'm so proud of you, Jay. You are so talented, baby."

He pulled away from you, cupping your face with his hands, touching his forehead to yours.

"Just had to remember my headphones, like always."

You nodded, laughing and kissing him again, JJ leaned back, your feet leaving the ground for a few seconds as he kissed you. You both pulled away giggling. You got a random burst of energy, electricity pulsing through your veins.

"Ah! Oh my God, you won!"

You pulled away from JJ, grabbing his hands and jumping up and down. His smile widened, he was so, absolutely in love with you, but watching you support him so wholeheartedly, made his heart squeeze extra with love.

"Yeah! I got the Rose Bowl, baby!"

JJ's family came through the tunnel, having chose the safer route to get to the field. He hugged his family, talking with them and taking pictures. You took a few of them on your phone, smiling sadly at how cute they were.

"Angel! Come take a picture with me!"

You smiled, nodding as you went over to your smiley boyfriend. He took his winner's hat off and plopped it onto your head, it was sweaty, but you didn't care. You did one picture standing next to each other, his arm around your hips as you both smiled brightly. Then there was one where JJ kissed your cheek out of nowhere, then another taken the moment after where you both laughed as you wiped the eyeblack he spread to you off of your cheek.

They were adorable, objectively. Your group was soon exiting down the tunnel, bidding JJ goodbye with a quick kiss as he walked back towards the locker room.

Once you were all reunited with JJ he told you all he wanted to go back to the hotel and get food delivered to the hotel. That was your boy, even after the big win all he wanted to do was go back to his bed.

You got back to the hotel after a long car ride through Rose Bowl traffic, and quickly went up to your room. You and JJ were sharing, though he was technically supposed to be in his football assigned hotel room, he was crashing in yours. His parents knew, you two were trusted, and old enough to make your own decisions.

You showered as Jay laid in your bed, watching the Texas and Washington game. You came out of the bathroom in your pajamas, quickly crawling into bed next to JJ. He pulled you inbetween his legs, wrapping his arms around your middle. You were both tired, him more than you. You noticed the plastic bag sitting on the nightstand.

"What'd you get us to eat?"

You kissed him when he told you he got chicken tenders. You both watched the Sugar Bowl as you ate your dinner. You both got up to throw away your trash and brush your teeth before turning off all the lights and getting right back in bed. JJ watched the game as you laid on his chest, scrolling through your phone, showing him TikToks and Instagram posts of videos taken of you two from the game every little bit. You two were going viral among the teenage girls and fan pages.

When the game finished JJ turned off the TV, and you put your phone away as you two shifted so that JJ was laying with his head on your chest. You played with his sandy hair as you talked.

"I still can't believe all of it, it's just crazy."

"Well I can believe it, I knew you could do it. You know I was scared when we were getting close to the end of regulation, but then I saw you smile right before your last play of the regulation TD run, you know right before Roman got the touchdown, and I just knew it."

JJ looked up at you in the dark, he had hearts in his eyes. You were everything to him, just completely everything.

"I love you so much."

"I love you, baby. 'M so proud of you."

#jj mccarthy #university of michigan #rose bowl #umich football #college football #jj mccarthy x reader #jj mccarthy fic #jj mccarthy blurb #umich x reader #umich #umich smut #umich blurbs #umich fic #umich imagine #umich hockey #umich boys #umich wolverines #umich lb #michigan wolverines

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greensagephase · 9 months

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Nonviolent Communication - Part Four

Miguel O'Hara x FemReader

Summary: Miguel shows up at your apartment again while you're celebrating your deceased boyfriend's birthday.

Word Count: 8,253

Warning: Miguel reflects on earlier days; Sad Miguel (I'm sorry)

Music inspo while writing:

"Mercy" - Max Richter, Mari Samuelson (Miguel's part)

"Nonviolent Communication" - Metro Boomin, James Blake, A$AP Rocky, 21 Savage (I love this song so much)

Part Four

Miguel steps out of the multidimensional portal into your apartment. He stares out at the living room, barely registering the sound of music when he hears you call his name. Miguel turns suddenly, startled by your presence. He stands there, in the middle of the room, in his suit as always, only revealing his face. He looks surprised to see you as the portal begins to fade away behind him, causing the objects in your apartment to fall back into place.

“Y/N - I thought you…” he starts, his eyes meeting yours.

You stare at him, still holding the knife as you stand in your kitchen. You briefly wonder what he thought. Then, you realize as you two hold eye contact. He thought you weren’t going to be home. You had told Lyla you had plans to go out. He had heard at least that part of the conversation, you realize. It seems that the moment you pinpoint his confusion to you being home, he too realizes you have figured it out because he clears his throat and looks down, as if embarrassed.

Your gaze follows his movement, to his hand. You see it then. Your mask. You didn’t even realized you left it as you had rushed out of the lab a few hours ago.

“I was leaving my lab when I saw your mask lying there. I figured you might need it for your night patrolling…” Miguel says at last, lifting his hand, showing you the mask.

You put down the knife and nod before you walk towards him. You approach him slowly, taking the mask from his extended hand.

“Thank you. I didn’t even realize I left it there. I was in a bit of a rush…” you say, trailing off as you hold your mask with both hands now.

“I noticed,” Miguel replies, meeting your eyes before his eyes flicker to the kitchen.

You suddenly feel embarrassed. You were caught in a lie. Miguel had heard you talking about having plans with friends, only to find you here in your apartment. You sigh quietly and look down at your mask for a few seconds. You finally look up, offering a small smile.

“Today is Peter’s birthday… Or would have been,” you correct yourself, looking over at the cake. “He would’ve turned twenty-six today.”

Miguel stands in front of you, still. You turn to him; his eyes are on the cake. He brings his gaze back to you and nods.

“You must think…” you start, thinking he must find this odd. You must look like a crazy woman, baking and celebrating your boyfriend’s birthday, who passed away three years ago.

Miguel shakes his head.

“I – Understand.”

The two of you stand there, silent. There’s an unspoken understanding between the two of you. You look over at the counter, suddenly remembering the ice cream.

“Shit, the ice cream,” you mutter, before you hurry to check it, placing your mask on the counter as you walk by.

The ice cream is still intact, but you know you will have to put it away soon. You turn to Miguel, who seems to be listening to the music. You can’t help but feel embarrassed despite him saying he understood. You stare down at Peter’s cake. Your emotions are a little over the place. You are sad, still grieving Peter’s absence while at the same time trying to be cheerful because it’s his birthday and now embarrassment is thrown into the mix. Your emotions override your brain and then, before you know it, you speak.

“Would you like a slice of cake?”

Miguel’s eyes shift to you. You can see there’s something there – like hesitation. You begin to feel regret immediately. Maybe this is too much. Maybe you are trespassing a line. You look down at the cake.

“I’m sorry – you are probably very busy like always,” you start, feeling heat in your cheeks. Yes, this was probably too much. Too personal. Too vulnerable. Too much for the founder and commander of the Spider Society.

“If you don’t mind… Yes.”

You look up in surprise, though you try to hide it. You hope Miguel didn’t notice the way your lips parted in surprise. You nod slowly before grabbing a plate and the knife again. As you slice the cake carefully, you feel Miguel walk from the living room section to the kitchen area slowly. You can’t help but feel like his movement is intentional, as if he’s trying to tread dangerous waters carefully. He stands behind the counter, the same side from which you ate the day he was here.

You place the slice of cake on the plate. You look at the ice cream and then at him.

“It’s probably a weird combination but – do you also want ice cream?” you ask, quietly.

And Miguel O’Hara stares at you for a few seconds before he nods. You nod and retrieve a small bowl plate. With ease, you open the ice cream container and place two scoops on it. You place the two plates in front of him before you retrieve utensils. You grab napkins and place them on the counter before placing the utensils on top of them. You return to the cake to cut a slice for yourself. Your movements are deliberately slow. You can sense that this is… Not awkward but also not easy? Whatever the word is, you are trying to give Miguel time to take a seat. As you place the slice of cake on your plate, he finally pulls one of the counter chairs out and takes a seat. From your peripheral vision, he still towers over you. You grab another bowl plate and get one scoop of ice cream. You retrieve utensils for yourself, discreetly noticing that he has grabbed the utensils you placed for him.

You cut into your slice with a fork, bringing it to your mouth. Your eyes return to the photograph, now next to Miguel’s plates, as you eat. You try not to look at Miguel as he brings the fork to his mouth. You tell yourself not to think about the fact that this is the only time you have ever seen the man eat. You wondered sometimes if he ever ate. You wonder if Lyla had to remind him to eat, the way she had to remind him to sleep.

“This is – a great cake,” Miguel says, breaking the silence. “Thank you.”

Your eyes move to him then. You nod, giving him a small smile.

“It was his favorite… Both the cake and ice cream flavor,” you respond before trying the ice cream. You haven’t eaten this flavor since last year. You only buy it for Peter’s birthday, reserving it for his day.

Miguel watches you. He doesn’t say anything, but he notices the slight puffiness of your eyes, a sign of crying. He listens to the music, recognizing the voice. He knows of Billie Holiday of course. He doesn’t know everything about your life but suddenly, he feels that he has a picture of it. You were happy, really happy. You once had everything, too. You lost it. Like him.

He can sense that you still seem somewhat embarrassed by this, but he doesn’t find anything odd about it. He understands. He finishes the cake and then the ice cream, enjoying both things despite feeling like he intruded on a very personal moment.

“Do you want more?” you ask, noticing he finished eating.

Miguel meets your eyes, and then nods. “May I please have another slice of cake?”

You nod, putting your plate down before taking his to give him another slice. You feel his eyes on you as you remove the candles gently, placing them aside on a napkin. You begin to cut another slice.

“I also…” Miguel starts, pausing. “I celebrate Dia de los Muertos, I don’t know if you –“ he pauses, and you nod, indicating you know what he’s talking about as you put the slice on his plate. “I make a small ofrenda for them.” You place his plate in front of him, meeting his eyes. “So – it’s not - Don’t feel as if…” Miguel says, trailing off and you nod.

“Thank you,” you say, understanding. You feel comfort and something else at the fact that he shared that with you, willingly, as an effort to lessen your embarrassment.

You take a deep but quiet breath in. You hadn’t expected someone to show up, even less Miguel but now that he was here… You feel – lighter? You take him in as he brings the fork to his mouth. Seems like he’s enjoying the cake, or at least you hope so. You return your eyes to Peter’s photograph, which still faces you. You stare at it, his gaze meeting yours. You smile softly before you finish your slice of cake.

Miguel continues to eat his second slice of cake. No wonder he loved it, Miguel thinks to himself, referring to Peter. The cake is amazing. Peter’s face flashes in his mind suddenly. He remembers the man’s face from the last time he was here, when he had stopped to look at the photographs on your wall. He had looked at you, smiling in all of them but he had also noticed Peter. It was obvious that the two of you loved each other deeply. It seemed to Miguel that Peter was a great man and if a woman like you loved him so much, Miguel is sure he had to be.

His mind shifts back to the conversation you had with Lyla earlier. You had lied. It’s not like he was eavesdropping, no. He would never do that. Lyla was just so loud sometimes that she tore his attention away and that’s why he had heard her ask if you had a date tonight or some other plans. That’s when he had heard about your plans to go out with friends to watch a movie. That’s why he had shown up at this time. He had spotted the mask lying on one of the many surfaces of his lab earlier, but he didn’t want to show up when you were home. He thought it would be awkward. He debated not even bringing it at all, but he knows you do night patrols, so he figured you would need it for tonight. Thus, he waited until he thought you would be gone to avoid any awkwardness.

And that’s why he was startled when you called his name. You weren’t supposed to be home, except you were. You were in the kitchen with a knife in your hand, about to slice a cake. He had barely identified the mood of the music and suddenly, he had a pretty good idea of what was happening and why you had lied to Lyla, who could be a little judgmental sometimes. He understood. He knew. He hadn’t celebrated Gabriella or his wife’s birthdays as he didn’t think he could handle such a thing, but he did set up an ofrenda for them each year.

You look up at Miguel, he looks as if he’s in deep thought. You wonder what he’s thinking about. Your ears focus on the music, Billie Holiday is still playing.

“I should turn that off,” you mutter, realizing the ambiance in the room is… too romantic.

You set your plate down, about to head to the living room section.

“Don’t,” Miguel says softly, stopping you in your tracks. You turn to him, his eyes already on you. “It’s nice.”

You nod slowly, staying quiet for a few seconds. “Peter loved this kind of music,” you share, as you pick up the ice cream container. “You want more?”

Miguel shakes his head. “I think I’ve had enough. Thank you, though.”

You turn around and put the leftover ice cream away in the freezer. You turn around again. Miguel is looking down at his plate but then looks up.

“He had good taste in music then,” he says, which makes you smile.

“I thought so, too.”

Miguel takes a moment before he adds, “He sounds like he was a great partner.”

You nod, hugging your arms. “He was. He was wonderful,” you say, turning your attention to Peter’s photo, wanting to say more about him but reluctant to unleash all your memories, thoughts, and feelings on Miguel.

Miguel doesn’t fail to notice the look in your eyes. It is obvious that you love Peter. All he can do is watch, wondering if that’s the way he looked at his wife once. He can’t help but also think how lucky Peter is, to still be loved beyond his death. The same way that Gabriella and his wife are lucky.

How lucky are those who pass away and have someone still love and remember them, Miguel often thought… Miguel doesn’t let himself think about it often, but a small fear creeps on him sometimes. Slowly but surely, crawling to his mind.

Was he going to die alone? Would anyone mourn Miguel O’Hara? Was anyone going to remember him? Or was he going to be a small, insignificant memory that came occasionally to his recruits’ minds when they thought of their work or earlier days as members in the Spider Society? Would they share their memory to whoever they were talking to or was near them? Would they say he was cold and stoic? Would they mention how he didn’t let anyone in? Or would they think about him for a few seconds before he was put away from their minds? Forgotten once again.

He buried those thoughts as deep as he could, burying himself even deeper into work to avoid having to reflect on those questions. He had no family. His parents had passed away many years ago. It was his father first and then his mother. His only sibling, Gabriel, had passed away three years before Miguel inserted himself into Gabriella’s life, leaving him with no one. No family and little friends if you could even call them that.

He was lonely though he never admitted it out loud. He drowned himself in work to fill the void and to avoid his thoughts. He worked day and night. Sometimes the only thing he saw were his monitors for hours. He had grown so accustomed to the light of them. He had grown accustomed to the silence that was only broken by Lyla. He told himself he was good. At least he had Lyla.

Then, his work was the very thing that led to his brief happiness. He discovered a way to travel through the multiverse. He traveled to so many universes , recruiting other Spider-members, his mind already settled on founding the Spider Society. It was then, through his traveling and exploring of each universe, that he found one in which a variant of himself had a family. He watched that universe for some time, longing to be like that version of himself in secret.

That version wasn’t Spider-Man. He led a normal life. He had a daughter… Gabriella. Miguel had never admitted it to anyone, but he had envied his variant. This version of him was carefree. He was happy. There were no worries about saving someone or something. This variant was a father, and a very dedicated one. He attended school functions for his daughter. He was a part of the parent teacher student organization. He baked brownies and cookies for fundraisers. He attended every soccer game. He worked a normal job. He picked up his daughter from school and dedicated the evenings to her. Miguel often watched as they played board games on their dining table. Gabriella’s laugh as she played board games with his variant filled him with a happiness he hadn’t felt in so long. He watched in awe as his variant helped the child with their homework every evening, seeing how bright she was.

They had the perfect life.

Miguel longed to have that for so long as he watched from afar, knowing it was wrong. And then the unexpected happened. His variant was murdered, making Gabriella an orphan. Before he knew it, he was traveling to that universe and replacing his variant, taking the chance of having a happy life.

As he took the life of his variant, he thought he had it all then. He had a daughter – family at last. He had another purpose in life besides work. He eventually found a partner who he fell in love with quickly, marrying shortly after, solidifying his family. Miguel feels pain as he thinks of his wife now, sweet Adriana. They were happy, the three of them. Miguel finally had what he had dreamt of for so long. What he had longed for. He had the perfect life, at last.

And then it was gone.

That same loneliness returned, except this time it was accompanied by guilt and grief. That fear that he had carried before his discovery of multiverse traveling, returned as well. He was lonely. He had no one. Again. As the days, weeks, and months went on after Gabriella’s universe collapsed, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was his fate. Maybe he was meant to have a lonely life. Maybe that’s why everyone was taken away from him. It was his fate: to be lonely for the rest of his life and to dedicate himself to work. Maybe his entire purpose in life was to protect the fate of the multiverse, so all those people in each universe could have a chance of living happy lives, even if it meant that he couldn’t have that very thing. That was his sacrifice.

“Being Spider-Man is a sacrifice. That’s the job. That’s what you signed up for,” he remembers telling Miles Morales months ago.

“You have a choice between saving one person and saving an entire world. Every world.”

After Gabriella and Adriana, this was his motto. He was sacrificing himself to save every universe. So, he worked day and night again. Forgetting to eat and sleep sometimes. Though sometimes it wasn’t because he forgot. It was a form of punishment. He had destroyed Gabriella and Adriana’s universe. He had ruined their, and millions of other people’s, chance of living happy lives since their universe collapsed.

“Daddy! Dad? Dad! No!”

He forgot to sleep sometimes but he mostly avoided it to avoid the nightmares. He dreamt of Gabriella and Adriana often, but Gabriella made more appearances in his nightmares. Gabriella haunted him more… He didn’t have the chance to see Adriana one last time. They had said their goodbyes in the morning before she went to work. They had kissed goodbye. Their last moment had been peaceful. His memory of her was a sweet and happy one. By the time he realized something was very wrong, she had already ceased to exist, leaving no room for another interaction.

But Gabriella… He held her in his arms as he carried her through the city, his heart racing and hurting from the loss of Adriana. He ran and ran as other Spider-members helped civilians only for them to disappear seconds later. His mind whirled with thoughts as he clutched his daughter, who was terrified and clung to him for comfort and safety, to his chest. He needed to save Gabriella. He needed to protect his daughter. She deserved to live a long life. And then he heard her last words.

“Daddy! Dad? Dad! No!”

Then she ceased to exist right before him, leaving his arms empty. He remembers as he stood there with empty hands, still feeling the warmth of his child. He remembers how her warmth began to fade away, as if she had never been in his arms at all. Her last words echoed through his mind over and over again. His heart felt heavy. Vacant.

He heard her cries in his dreams every night for weeks. Each night he woke up screaming, tears running down his face. He was angry, frustrated, mournful, devastated, and so much more. He felt every imaginable emotion those nights while he paced his empty apartment back in Nueva York. He threw things around, like flipping the dining table and its chairs. He broke and shattered objects. He cursed himself and screamed into the silent night. His cries and screaming went unheard as he lived in the penthouse of his apartment building and owned the two floors under the penthouse, too. There was no one to hear his destruction or his screaming. He eventually stopped sleeping, only succumbing to his exhaustion when his body began to give out.

He was alone. He had caused the collapse of a universe for his own greed, he thought. All to not be alone. All to fill his fantasy of having a family.

He couldn’t even think of friends in the aftermath of everything. If he had been unable to create strong friendships before Gabriella and his wife’s death, now it felt nearly impossible. He didn’t want it. He thought he didn’t deserve friends, especially after the events that happened, involving Miles Morales. He had been wrong. So wrong. He thought he was in the right for so long only to be proven wrong. He wasn’t proud of his actions. He knew everyone else had pushed past it. They had moved on, except him. He took his mistake and punished himself. Once again.

He pushed everyone away. Every single time anyone tried, he pushed them away. Push, push, push. Until they gave up. He couldn’t remember who the last person who had tried was. It was so long ago. No one bothered to try anymore as the spider members knew it was to no avail. Or perhaps they hoped that one day he would come around on his own. But then someone else came along.

As he looked at you, still staring at Peter’s photo, he thought about the things you have done, and continue to do for him. Like the coffee. He knows the cafeteria staff never gave you extra as you had said so many times. He initially waved it off, the way he ignored your gesture the first few times. He eventually grew curious, wondering if it was true that the cafeteria staff gave you extra coffee. He pulled the security cameras’ footage, his curiosity winning. That’s how he learned that your excuses were just excuses. He knew you lied about the coffee, the way you knew he had lied about why he had shown up weeks ago after you went radio silence because of your period. You deliberately took coffee to him, and he didn’t know why. He wondered why you bothered and continued even when he ignored you at first. Even when he left the cup on the table, his sign that he didn’t care. Even when he gave you the bare minimum of a response, you didn’t stop.

Then you offered to start organizing the lab. He remembers the way he wanted to shut down that idea quickly. He didn’t want a random new recruit hanging around the lab, moving his items around but Jess had intervened. She had said the place needed it and he just gave up, too busy to argue with her. Besides, he had been sure that you would only show up once. His first impression of you was that you were too sweet. Too kind. Too warm. Too happy. Miguel felt that he and you were opposites in those early days. He often felt like a dark, gloomy cloud that rained on everybody’s mood. He didn’t care but he was aware that some of the Spider Society members found his mood foul. You on the other hand… you had a smile on your face. You walked around HQ with a lightness, like nothing could possibly bring you down. That’s why he had been sure you would only show up once to organize the lab. You wouldn’t be able to take the silence. You wouldn’t handle being unacknowledged. You were going to stop whatever it was that you were doing by taking him coffee and organizing his lab, the same way that everyone who had ever tried getting close to him had stopped.

But you stayed. You showed up the next week, asking Lyla if you could come in. He remembers pausing from his work as he heard Lyla tell him you were there. You had asked her to ask him if you could come in. He remembers staring at his screen, struck by this. You hadn’t taken the liberty of barging into his lab like other members. You asked for permission first. You respected his space. Before he knew it, he had nodded at Lyla. And there you were, going into his lab to organize the clutter of advanced technology pieces for the second time. And now, he had lost count of how many times you have been there.

He never said anything when you were in the lab, sometimes he acknowledged you by humming, other times he didn’t. But his curiosity had grown. You asked each week if you could enter the lab, and this made him wonder about you. You were also good on missions, or at least he was told so by Jess, who took a liking to you quickly.

Much to his surprise, you had also quickly been incorporated into a friend group. It seemed that you had settled into the Spider Society fast and successfully. This just added to his curiosity and because he had the technology and knowledge at his disposal, he had learned about you. He learned you lost your own version of Peter. He hadn’t allowed himself to see further but this single piece of information made him wonder how you could walk around so happy.

He wondered sometimes as you answered Lyla’s questions while you organized the lab. Of course, he never said anything. He tried his best to ignore the conversations each time, trying to give you and Lyla privacy. But Lyla was loud sometimes, getting too excited. He was never able to fully ignore the conversations that took place between the two of you.

“Okay, okay! Tell me this! What are your comfort foods?” Lyla had asked one time.

“Pasta,” you had answered so fast.

Miguel just listened as Lyla had distracted him that time. He just shook his head discreetly. It seemed that even his AI assistant had taken a liking to you. He just kept working though, trying his best to remain focused but he was brought back to the conversation a few other times. This was an occurrence every week, though he never showed it.

Things remained the same for weeks. Miguel honestly lost count. You kept taking coffee to him and he eventually started nodding at you or giving you a “hmm”. He didn’t know why. He just did one time and then he started doing it here and there.

He also noticed you were punctual each week, something that he valued highly. He didn’t fail to notice how you showed up to do what you had volunteered to do. You never wasted time or slacked even if you could’ve because at the end of the day, it wasn’t your job. Miguel definitely appreciated the organization though, as he started to realize how much faster he found what he was looking for sometimes. Your system of organization helped him immensely.

It was all going well. Or at least it was a good set up. You didn’t mind him not talking. You didn’t mind that he addressed you sometimes, and other times didn’t. You didn’t try to talk to him, asking him questions about this or that about his life the way that other members had tried asking him before. You just did what you had volunteered to do. You were a good member of the Spider Society.

And then one day, or rather that day, he sat in the same conference room at HQ where he always schedules meetings. He had already passed out the reports for the meeting. He was reviewing them, as always, making sure everything was precise for the hundredth time. The minutes were going by, the meeting time getting closer and closer. He had looked up towards the door for some reason, as if he was expecting something at that moment. And then it struck him that you hadn’t shown up yet. He had looked at the time. You had missed your time window. You always arrived earlier than anyone else but when he looked at the door again, there was no sign of you. He remembers sighing deeply and shaking his head, as if trying to clear his mind. The meeting started and ended; your usual seat remained empty. There was no scent of coffee.

After the meeting, Jess made the slight comment to Hobie that your gizmo showed no activity. Neither of them worried though. They walked out of the conference room, chalking your absence to some emergency in your universe. Miguel had simply brushed it off, picking up his items before heading back to his lab. Before he knew it, however, it was time for you to show up at his lab to organize it. He continued working on his monitors as he noticed you hadn’t arrived on time. You were late now but whatever.

“So strange…” Lyla had quietly said.

“What?” Miguel asked as he moved one monitor away, but he knew. He just knew what Lyla was going to say before she even said it and he didn’t know why he knew. He didn’t like that he knew.

“Well – Y/N should’ve arrived by now but she’s not here yet.”

Miguel kept working, narrowing his eyes. “She’s probably just busy.”

“But it’s so unlike her… She would’ve notified you she wasn’t showing up,” Lyla had said, looking at the lab’s door with concern, as if still hoping that you would show up.

And yes, she was right, Miguel had realized. You were that kind of person. That’s when his mind began to drift away from his work. You missed the meeting and now the weekly organization time. You seemed like the type to let someone know you would be unable to show up because of an emergency but you hadn’t. Jess, who was like a mentor to you, hadn’t heard from you. Even one of your friends, Hobie, hadn’t heard from you. There was no activity from your gizmo either.

Miguel stared at one of his screens, his mind filled with these thoughts, his attention away from what he was supposed to focus on. He grunted in slight frustration. Why was he thinking about you? You were probably fine. You probably had something else come up. He wished that Lyla hadn’t said anything. He wished that he hadn’t heard Jessica and Hobie’s comment about the lack of activity from your gizmo. He wished he hadn’t noticed your absence.

He had sighed, closing out the screen in front of him.

“I’m going to run maintenance on you Lyla,” Miguel said, letting her know.

Lyla simply nodded, though she had noticed frustration coming from Miguel. She knew better than to ask and besides, she had a pretty good idea what was going on with Miguel. Miguel wasn’t a heartless person. He was capable of caring even if he wished he didn’t anymore and Lyla could sense that you were on his mind. She wondered if the sudden maintenance decision had to do with you.

And it did. Miguel purposely ran maintenance on Lyla before he traveled to your universe so she wouldn’t know where he was going. He didn’t want Lyla to bug him about it. He was just going to check. That was all. He was just going to verify that there wasn’t something incredibly wrong with your universe. Something that could mess with the fate of the multiverse. Yes, that was it. The fate of the multiverse as always…

So, he showed up to your apartment. It was day and the apartment was dark. It was silent. Too silent. Miguel looked around your apartment. There was no sign of you, and he briefly thought you were probably out and about until he saw the gizmo on your living room’s console table. It looked like it had just been dropped off carelessly. That didn’t sound like you at all, and Miguel fleetingly wondered why he believed that if he hardly knew you. Before he knew it, he was walking towards the room he assumed was the bedroom. And there you were.

His eyes immediately took in the sight of you. You clutched your stomach with your hands. Your eyes were shut, and soft groans escaped from your lips. He remembers moving through your room swiftly as you told him to go away. He knew something was wrong then, you never talked like that. Or at least, he had never heard you talk like that to someone.

And that’s how he spent hours at your apartment that day. It was the first and only time he had stayed at one of his recruits’ homes for that long. He had been invited to dinners before, mostly by Peter, who hosted Friday dinners for his group of friends that had become like a little family. The same one he knew you were a part of now. He now wondered if you attended those dinners, the same ones he never went to.

He only went to his recruits’ homes if it was necessary, staying for a few minutes but now you were the exception. He made homemade rice socks to ease your pain. Before he knew it, he was doing other things he hadn’t done for someone else in years. He washed the two dishes in your sink. Put away the clean ones, learning the ins and outs of your small but clean kitchen. He took out the trash. He checked on you occasionally, noticing that you no longer clutched your stomach and your groans of pain had eased at last. He felt relief to see his efforts had worked. Even your face, which had shown your pain, was relaxed. You slept peacefully, hugging a pillow to your body.

Miguel had watched you for some time, leaning on your bedroom doorway. The last time he had slept that soundly was when he lived in Gabriella’s universe. His worries had eased. His loneliness and restlessness had ceased to burden him. He had a normal sleeping schedule back then. He went to sleep at ten, having put Gabriella to sleep at nine so she would get plenty of sleep. He would then get up at six. He’d make coffee for himself and later, when married, for his wife as well. He made breakfast for Gabriella, ensuring she was always taken care of. He prepared her lunch. Gabriella and he had a schedule. Or well… His variant and Gabriella had a schedule and he had learned it.

Miguel puts those thoughts away now, not wanting to plague you or ruin your celebration. His eyes are still on you, and yours are on Peter’s photograph. The point was that he thought all those that had passed away who still have loved ones alive, are lucky. They are honored, remembered, and loved.

Miguel had no family. He didn’t call his colleagues friends, especially after he pushed them away but as he looked at you, he thought of your gestures, like taking him coffee and organizing his lab. He thought about the fact that he had shown up at your apartment and stayed for so long. He thought about how you had calmed him the following day when he discovered Lyla had hidden photos and videos of his family. He thought about how you were now being vulnerable with him, letting him in on something so personal the same way he had with you weeks ago.

As he looked at you and all these thoughts flooded his mind, his fear of dying alone and having no one to mourn or remember him dissipated in that moment. Maybe he would never find someone to love again. He didn’t know if he could love like that again. He didn’t know if he was ever going to have a child again… He knew Gabriella wasn’t his biologically, but it was as if she had been. It hadn’t mattered to him. She was his daughter. Su hija.

Mi niña, Miguel could not stop himself from thinking, remembering her and hearing her voice in his head. A warmness spread through his chest.

Maybe he was never going to have a family again. Maybe it really was his fate to live the rest of his life like this, and Miguel just needed to accept it but… as he looked at you and thought of what you had done for him so far, he couldn’t help but feel some assurance that maybe there would be someone, you, who would show up to his funeral one day. He knew Peter and Jess would, too. Even if none of you were family, he felt a little relief. He hid it well but as he looked at you, there was some appreciation from your boss. His fear had settled for once and it was thanks to you.

You, who hid your grief and loss so well from everyone. You, who had let him in. You, who was showing him, the way he had shown you. He wanted to say something then, but he didn’t know how to say it. Miguel wasn’t so great at expressing his feelings these days. It had been a long time since he had.

You suddenly look at him, meeting his eyes.

“You know… I’ve done this each year since his passing. This is the first time someone else has joined me and…” you pause. “Thank you for not judging me and for joining me,” you say at last.

“I would never judge you or anyone for this… I understand as much as I understand how – hard it is to let someone have a glimpse of these moments,” Miguel says slowly and quietly, his tone is full of sincerity and understanding. “I know how hard it is… how much it takes to allow someone in… thank you,” he says, meaning it. You had let him in the way he had let you in that day he discovered the secret photos and videos.

You nod, feeling a warmness spread through your own chest. It was difficult to let someone else in. This is why you never mentioned it to your friends. Besides, they had all gone through their own loss in some way. The last thing you wanted was to add your own to theirs. You sigh. “That’s why I lied to Lyla.”

He nods back, with a knowing look. “Lyla can be a little judgmental sometimes, so I don’t blame you at all.”

You chuckle lightly. “That she can be sometimes… She said earlier that going to bookstores wasn’t considered something fun,” you say, shaking your head.

Miguel tilts his head, remembering that part of the conversation. He had heard it unwillingly. “Lyla’s idea of fun is different from ours, I guess.”

Now you tilt your head. “You like to read?”

Miguel nods and then sighs. “Yes, but I don’t read much these days,” he says, trying to remember when the last time he read a book was. It was when Gabriella and his wife were still alive. Before he knows it, he begins to speak. “I stopped after… We used to go to the bookstore each weekend. Gabriella also enjoyed reading.”

You smile sadly and sigh, understanding. “It takes a long time to be able to do some of the things you used to do with them.” You pause. “It’s hard.”

Miguel nods, knowing as well. This showed up in many ways for him. Like cooking or reading. The day he cooked pasta for you was the first time he had cooked in years, and he had cooked that specifically because he had heard you say it was a comfort food. Miguel sighs softly. He feels comforted knowing he isn’t the only one who can’t do specific things after losing his loved ones. He, however, hopes that your standard of living is better than his. He knows he doesn’t sleep or eat well sometimes. He doesn’t rest and relax. He hopes that you are not like him. He hopes you have it better in those aspects. As he looks at you, he hopes you have a chance of one day moving on and possibly finding someone else in the future.

He wonders if you are even open to the possibility, but he doesn’t ask, as it’s something very personal. The two of you fall into silence but it’s not an uncomfortable one. You are two people, sharing grief and loss in that moment. You eye the cake and look up at him.

“Do you want to take some with you?” you ask him.

Miguel looks at you and nods. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

You nod and start cutting him a few slices before you move around your kitchen, finding a container to put the cake in. You can feel Miguel’s eyes on you as you search but it doesn’t bother you.

“So – if you don’t mind me asking, what kind of books do you like?” you ask, as you find a container but not the lid. You frown as you search for it.

Miguel watches you from behind. It seems that you can’t find a lid and he finds this amusing for some reason. He clears his throat and thinks about your question.

“I used to enjoy sci-fi books.”

You nod as you search deeper in your cabinet. Where the hell is that lid, you wonder briefly before you reply.

“You know… that makes sense,” you say, as you move some lids around.

“And history books,” Miguel adds behind you.

You turn at that. “I like – or well, I used to read historical fiction.”

Miguel stares at you intently, with a look on his face that feels like he might smile at any moment because his lips move slightly. You turn away to keep looking for that damn lid.

Miguel continues watching you.

“Mind if I look at your bookshelf?” he asks, and you pause.

“Oh – no. Go ahead,” you say, surprised as you continue to look for the lid.

You hear him stand up and move across your apartment. You look behind your shoulder, taking a peek at him in the corner where your bookshelf is located before you look for the lid. You move a container and there it is. You pull it out just as you hear him talk.

“You have a lot of these books,” he comments, making you wonder what he’s talking about.

You place the container with leftover cake on the counter and walk over to him.

“What kind?” you ask, as you stand next to him, eyeing the book he’s holding.

You freeze as you recognize the cover when he turns it over, apparently reading the back of it.

“These books with animated covers. Romcoms?” he asks, eyeing the cute, animated book cover.

You clear your throat and nod, feeling a little heat rise to your cheeks. He puts it away to your relief but then pulls out another one to your dismay.

“Hmm,” Miguel lets out as he reads the back.

“Yeah, it’s just romcoms… I went through a phase a few years ago. I also like mystery, like… This one,” you say, spotting a book you remember is in the mystery genre. This is your attempt to take his attention from the misleading romcom books but when you turn to Miguel to show him the other book, you see him flipping through it.

Fuck. You just stare and hope that he doesn’t land on one of those pages. To your relief his face remains the same as he flips through it before he puts it away and takes the one you are offering him. You sigh quietly in relief that he didn’t read anything that might change his opinion about you. Miguel nods as he reads the synopsis.

“Sounds interesting,” he mutters with furrowed brows, placing the book back where you got it from. “I’ll keep it in mind if I ever return to the habit of reading.”

You nod slowly. “I hear that,” you say, looking at the books you have bought over the last three years but haven’t read yet.

The two of you stand there, in front of your bookshelf, closely. You suddenly feel like you’re too close to him, but he doesn’t seem to mind as his eyes scan the books. He seems genuinely interested in the titles.

Miguel finally turns to you. He has spent more time than he anticipated but he’s okay with it… He feels oddly at peace right now, standing before your overflowing bookshelf with books that contain… interesting content to say the least. Miguel clears his throat, trying to forget what he partially read. No wonder you were trying to get him another book, he realizes, feeling amused but also intrigued by this. This has added another layer to you, making you even more interesting to him.

Miguel sighs. “It’s getting late. I should probably head back to Nueva York… You probably need rest, too,” he says softly.

“Yeah – I guess it’s late now,” you say looking at a clock on your wall, realizing it is quite late now.

Miguel nods, stepping back and taking a few steps away from you. He begins to click on his gizmo, preparing to leave. “Oh, my cake,” he says, suddenly remembering and reminding you.

You nod and walk to the kitchen section, retrieving the container. You walk back to him, handing it to him. Miguel takes the container gently from you.

“Thank you,” he says, softly but laced with something else like appreciation. You can’t help but feel that his thank you is not just for the cake though. You push it away, not knowing that Miguel O’Hara’s constant fear of dying alone has been settled thanks to you tonight.

You smile up at him. “Thank you,” you say full of gratitude. “Your presence tonight… It helped me,” you admit, hoping it’s not too much for Miguel and it isn’t, or at least it doesn’t appear so because he nods with a calm face.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he responds, meaning it as he feels it’s the least he could do after you helped him diminish his fear. He looks down at the container, making you look at it, too. It looks so small in his large hands.

Miguel gives you one last nod before he opens a multidimensional portal, making objects in your small apartment float. He looks at the items and gives you an apologetic look. You chuckle.

“It’s fine,” you assure him, and he nods again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at HQ,” he says as he steps into the portal.

“See you tomorrow” you say with a small wave as he begins walking into the portal.

A few seconds later, he disappears completely before the portal itself begins to fade. You watch as the floating objects begin to descend slowly the more the portal fades until they fall, the portal closing.

You sigh as you look around. Another birthday for Peter but at least this time was different. You can’t help but feel glad you accidentally left your mask earlier as you begin to put the objects away. Miguel really helped tonight as you would’ve probably cried more if he hadn’t shown up suddenly.

You walk to the record player, which at this point has stopped playing. You remove the current vinyl and place another one, one that’s lighter on your emotions right now. You head to the kitchen and clean up by yourself, feeling good. Once done, you turn and face Peter’s photograph.

“Happy Birthday, love. I really hope you had a great one. I hope you didn’t mind that my boss showed up but at least you’ve met him now,” you say with a smile. You plant a kiss on your fingertips and then bring them to the photograph, right on Peter’s lips. “Thank you… for everything you ever did for me, Peter. I love you,” you whisper, staring at the photo for a few more seconds before you turn the record player and lamps off, and head to bed, feeling pleased with today.

Back in Nueva York, Earth-928, Miguel steps out of the portal but not into his lab. He steps out into his penthouse, for the first time in weeks. He looks around the dark penthouse for a few seconds and with a single voice command, the lights turn on. Miguel blinks, adjusting to the light. He heads to the kitchen and places the container in the fridge. He’ll have more of it tomorrow, he thinks as he heads to the bedroom. He enters it and looks at the bed for a few seconds before he deactivates his suit, leaving him in his boxers. He climbs into bed, feeling odd at first but as he relaxes his body, he feels the exhaustion take over him as he thinks of what happened tonight in your dimension. He feels at peace for once.

For the first time in over a month, Miguel O’Hara begins to fall asleep on his bed.

And for the first time in years, he has no nightmares.

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

Translation for italicized words: Dia de los Muertos - Day of the Dead Ofrenda - Altar for Day of the Dead Su hija - His/Her daughter Mi niña – My girl (daughter)

Lowkey laughing at myself right now. I ended up splitting the last part because it was too long, only for me to do it again but this time, I’m leaving it. I had planned to talk a little more of Miguel's past before Gabriella and I hurt my own feelings with that. I just want to give this man a tight hug, good food, bathe him in affection, and take care of him!!! Side note, I can't wait for BTSP to see more of his story because we literally know nothing!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this and I’m sorry if I made you sad with Miguel’s point of view. I hope I made it up with the ending though 😊 I also want to add that I previously thought this was only going to be like four or five parts, but I think it’s going to be at least six or seven parts now as I don’t want to rush things between Miguel and the reader because I don’t think Miguel (and reader) would immediately jump into a relationship. It’s going to take some time and I want to explore more moments with them to make it as realistic as possible. Also, just realized it’s been two weeks since I first posted part one. Crazy! Thank you again for the support, it’s greatly appreciated!

I still love Miguel. That's all.

Tag List: (It seems I finally found a way to tag those that I was unable to last time, apologies for that)

@loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @rootin-tootin-morgan @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp @rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub

To the people below, I had to tag you in the comments because it wouldn't let me on the post, idk why :(

@mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @mandodinstuff @muzansucker

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swtnrcmnt · 1 year

Text

୨୧ — s.r as a dad; headcanons

spencer reid x fem!reader

- for sure cries when you tell him because it’s literally all he’s ever wanted

- does soooooo much research. he’s literally a baby encyclopedia at this point

- picks out a whole box of books he intends to read to his child once they’re born

- also. he’s a girl dad. i don’t care what anybody says, argue with the wall :)!

- he’s all confident about how he’ll be prepared when you go into labor, but once you do he literally freaks out

- like.. he freezes, and suddenly his iq is 2

- and it’s probably because he’s just now processing that he’s about to be a dad

- and for sure cries the first time he holds her

- for sure takes time off from the bau for a while to be with his daughter and wife

- and possibly resigns to be a full time professor but that depends on whether this is bau!reader, singer!reader, or just regular 9-5 working person

- names her after his mom, penelope or blake in some way, and probably in her middle name

- spends sooo much time with his new baby :’( is always always holding her or watching her

- it’s just so surreal to him

- also never lets you get up if she starts crying during the night, because you spent so many nights awake from her kicking he thinks you deserve some well needed sleep

- and your house is stacked to the ceiling with gifts from the whole team for the baby

- most of them being from penelope

- speaking of who, either her or jj is for sure his child’s godmother (depends on what season this is)

- and there’s no way he would pick anybody but derek to be the godfather ! (i miss them together)

- baby’s first word is probably something like love, because spencer’s always saying it both to her and her mom

- he would raise his children so well, and to be kind to everyone

- showers his babies with so much love since he didn’t get that from his own father growing up

- in conclusion, spencer would be the best daddy :)

#swtnrcmnt ۵ #he’s so cute #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x singer!reader #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid x fem!reader #dad!spencer reid #criminal minds headcanons #spencer reid x bau!reader

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diorsluv · 4 months

Text

feather , part 8

“ i slam the door ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

yourusername

liked by colecaufield, trevorzegras, jamie.drysdale, and 25,780 others

yourusername guess who took me hereee❕

view all comments

bookerburke_ hmm i wonder who!

→ yourusername can’t think of his name 😔

username75 who the hell is booker burke

→ username11 he better not be her new bf

→ username58 i was rooting for her and luke..

username17 oh boy.

trevorzegras after 2 months of being in the talking stage i’d hope it’s him

liked by yourusername

→ lhughes_06 dude.

→ jackhughes oh my god

mackie.samo whats his name??? blake? bart?? bernie???? can’t remember it mb

→ yourusername mack please be nice 😟

→ mackie.samo i’m not even allowed to step foot into your apartment anymore

→ yourusername okay no that’s bc you were sweatier than a pig cuz you just came from practice

edwards.73 should’ve been mr “middle name cowboy”

→ yourusername please eddy 😭😭

→ edwards.73 what?? im not beefing

username35 I CAN’T WITH ALL THE GUYS SIDING WITH LUKE

username10 i kinda feel bad for the new guy yk

jamie.drysdale go home it’s 1 am

→ yourusername it’s okayy he said he’ll bring me home

luca.fantilli guys let’s all be nice to bellamy

→ yourusername it’s booker ☹️

→ luca.fantilli my fault

→ luca.fantilli guys let’s all be nice to byrone**

→ dylanduke25 byrone is crazy

username16 WHAT DID I MISS?? why is she dating a guy that isn’t luke 😭

liked by lhughes_06

username2 um did i skip a few chapters or a whole ass book because… what the fuck is this

lhughes_06

liked by dylanduke25, edwards.73, luca.fantilli, and 50,267 others

lhughes_06 run it back to freshman year

tagged: markestapa, mackie.samo, edwards.73, dylanduke25

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markestapa all we needed were the guys fr

→ username6 why is it giving “saturdays are for the boys”

username86 i cantttt is this luke’s way of coping

mackie.samo THE SUITS 🔥🔥🔥

→ lhughes_06 YUP YUP

jackhughes lmao moose ur not slick

→ lhughes_06 wdym

→ jackhughes you know exactly what i’m talking about

→ lhughes_06 nope idk

adamfantilli so hughesy how are u feeling

→ lhughes_06 feeling amazing

→ luca.fantilli so is it just me or do i smell absolute bs

jamie.drysdale i just watched my sister stare at your post for a hot minute and then roll her eyes

→ yourusername ur actually instigating i did not do that

→ lhughes_06 idk sounds a lot like you yourusername

bookerburke_ looks litttt wish i could’ve known all of you back then

username79 bartholemew’s comment…. 😬

→ username14 let’s not bully him 😭😭

→ username23 he seems like he’s trying

yourusername miss those times

next chapter notes ) so this one’s kind of short and gross and blegh but let’s just call it an intro of sorts for act ii…… tbh idk if anyone’s gonna like this act bc of mr booker blake but we’ll see 😔 AND I PROMISE SHE AND LUKE END UP TOGETHER EVENTUALLY also more tension, more angst, and more gradual chaos to comeeeee

#adam fantilli #alex turcotte #cole caufield #dylan duke #ethan edwards #jack hughes #jamie drysdale #luca fantilli #luke hughes #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #trevor zegras #quinn hughes #rutger mcgroarty #mackie samoskevich #mark estapa

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mrsmiagreer · 1 year

Text

Lemon gave me a thought you know…An amazing thought at that

Daddy Kinks in the Redacted Universe

Milo

Looooves it. Milo’s the type of person to call himself daddy to describe himself as the man, the boss, the caretaker. Sweetheart, however, carried that into their sexy time and Milo just couldn’t argue with it. The first time it happened, it was in the middle of a thrust. The word just flew out of sweetheart’s mouth on accident and Milo just went harder

“Cum for me…yeah cum for daddy”

David

Angel said it to him once on a normal day as a joke, and David told them to fuck around and find out what position that word gets them in. And knowing Angel, They called his bluff…we know how THAT ended

“Come here, I’ll show you who your daddy is”

Sam

Actually calls himself that sometimes when he’s in the mood. It drives darlin’ so crazy and they always do what he says because they wanna be good for him. Just like Lemon said

"Yeah Darlin', bounce on Daddy's cock."

Vincent

One night lovely said it while begging Vincent to bite them. Right then, they experienced the most lustful bite they’ve ever experienced. Vincent almost immediately apologized for how hard it was and was almost confused when he heard lovely cry out for another one just like that

“Yeah? You want daddy to give you another bite?”

Gavin

Gavin hears it 104,715,918,021 times a year. People have called him Daddy, Sir, Master, all of the above, etc, you name it. But when Freelancer says it, his brain goes to mush and he just needs more

“Oh fuck… say that again please call me that again”

Huxley

When Damien pushes, he makes big pushes. He doesn’t take small chances and we all know this. He wasn’t sure if Huxley would like it before he tried it but he teased him a little with the title to see how it worked out. Boy was he in for a time.

“Ohh…Daddy huh?”

Blake

Goes literal apeshit. He’s been waiting for this moment since the last time him and Bestie were this close, but this time they seem to really mean it, and it’s making his little unrequited lovesick heart go mad. It flips a switch in him and now he’s pounding Bestie out.

“Awww…Needed daddy to come fuck you to sleep? It’s okay baby I got you”

thank you for the idea love 🫶🏽 @screaming-over-avior @sweetlemongrove

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maxybabyy · 7 months

Text

The power has been out for an hour when he finds the kid looming around in the hallway.

He’s in the same old NYU shirt that Daniel always sees him in. The shoulder seams hang loose from his frame, and there’s a giant hole in the sleeve, big enough to fit a thumb through if you tried. Max must have done that before, he thinks, chewing away at the strings. The silly plastic thing is gone too, leaving nothing but the frayed tips.

“I reckon it’s gonna be out for a while,” he says when Max just keeps staring at the emergency light flicker. The one fucking thing this shitty building actually has. Maintenance is shit, and he’s pretty sure there’s a new species of black mould growing in the hallway window. But at least their little void on the seventh floor follows the safety guidelines.

He taps his socked foot against Max’s scruffy sneakers, watches him turn around with a frown.

“I was playing with my friends, and then the electricity went out. I thought it was for me only, so I checked the fuses,” Max tells him with his hands high in the air, his fingers flicking along with his words. Daniel doesn’t even know where he would look for the fuse box in his shithole of a studio. “But it is of course the entire building. I think maybe it is the lightning,” he adds.

“Nah, the building is just shit,” Daniel tells him. “If it’s not a water leak or a fucking rat problem, it’s the power. Same old shit and they won’t fix it. Just wait until winter when the heating will go away too.”

Daniel has learned to keep himself busy when the snow starts falling. LA, in particular, is great around Christmas when New York becomes too unbearable.

“I was here in the winter also,” Max says, gestures to door where he lives like Daniel doesn’t already know. “It was so nice of you, giving me a Christmas present. I of course had not bought you anything, but you said –“

Blake had dropped off the newest batch of merch samples right around New Year’s, and they had all been shit. The design was wrong, and the colour palette was completely off. They still haven’t gotten the peach the right colour, but the other shit looks fine now. Back then Max had – he would walk around in the same fucking shirt he’s wearing now. Skinny jeans frayed at the hem in a way they aren’t supposed to be, a rolodex of white tee shirts from Target, and a thin, barely-there windbreaker to fend off the cold.

Daniel had given him the leftover merch, he had to. There was no fucking way he couldn’t do it.

He taps Max’s shoe again, watches him crack a grin before he nods his head towards his apartment. “Do you wanna come in? I just have like, a candle and shit, but we can chill until the power comes back.”

Max nods and follows him inside.

Daniel doesn’t offer him a beer, sips at the can while they both watch the flicker of the wick. He doesn’t have another candle, so this one will have to last, the whispers of sea breeze faint between them.

He’s telling Max about his latest gig – some dive bar with a shitty ironic name like Cheers or Sam’s, or shit like that – when Max reaches out to poke at the candle. His skin looks glowing in the candlelight, a warm contrast to Max’s usual pale skin. His fingers look long, elegant as they curl around the candle, his thumb stroking over the dripping wax like it was –

“Daniel?” Max prompts, eyes flickering from the wick to his face and back again, “The drummer is of course an idiot, but it went alright, you said?”

Daniel jerks back into the couch. He swallows loudly. Tries and fails to convince himself he hadn’t been zoning out on the kid’s hands like a fucking weirdo. Safety first, he thinks faintly, can’t have a fucking fire during a power outage.

Max keeps playing with the candle wax, making it drip down onto Daniel’s shitty white wood Ikea table he had carried home in the subway. But every time he touches it, Max sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth, presses down to make it run faster, and Daniel cannot find it in himself to stop him.

Max’s in the middle of a story about his family dog back in the Netherlands, when he accidentally touches the flame. He’s quick to pull back, hissing loudly as he sucks his pointer and middle finger into his mouth with a muddled, “Fuck!”

“Careful!” Daniel scolds. He’s already halfway across the couch reaching for him like a fucking mother hen. But instead of his hand, Daniel grabs onto Max’s thigh in his panic, the muscle firm in his grip. Max watches him back, flexes his thigh as he sucks the fingers deeper into his obnoxiously big, oddly fitting mouth, and Daniel cannot keep – has to look away.

Stares at Max’s knees instead, awkward and protruding and littered with odd bruises.

Daniel wonders how he got them, forces himself to think of less nefarious reasons for how they could appear. Once, Daniel had gotten so drunk that Scotty couldn’t get him to come down from the bar, dancing away until he felt dizzy with exhaustion and drink.

Back then, when his body had been young and spry, he had slammed to his knees before swinging his legs to the side to get off the bar. They had been black and blue for a week before his knees had recovered.

But Max doesn’t let him ponder for long, slides to the floor in a move impossibly fluid for someone to not have done it a hundred times over. He’s quick to reach for Daniel's jeans, one hand still spit-slick as he pulls at the zipper, and Daniel has to – cannot let him do this.

“Hey, mate,” he says, laughs nervously. “Aren’t you like sixteen or something?”

Once, he had tried to give the kid a twenty so he could buy himself some food for the night. Gaunt cheeks and lanky body a cruel reminder of his own teens. Refusing money from Grace and Joe to prove he hadn’t screwed up by running away to America to make it big.

But the kid didn’t take the money and had instead stared at him, brows drawn together much like he is now. “I’m nineteen,” he says.

“In a year or two, maybe.” Daniel scoffs. But still, he doesn’t move. Max’s hand stays on his dick, heavy and warm despite the temperature of the apartment. “Be real, man. I’m fine with you sticking around but –“

Max snarls. He stays on his knees, but Daniel cannot meet his eyes, stares himself blind where his jeans have become undone. “Always you do this. You are so kind to me, flirting with me, but then you run away when I respond!

“Now you ask me to come to your apartment, with the mood lighting also, and again you will not touch me. This is not fair, Daniel.” Max says and digs his nails into his thighs, forces Daniel to look at him – at the furious glare and the too-red lips.

It’s unfair how good he looks sitting between Daniel’s spread thighs. There’s a dusting of pale, blonde hair at the top of his thighs where his shorts have crawled up, and his entire face is flushed with emotion. It’s all Daniel can do to not put a better name to it – the death of creativity for once not a foe. His cheekbones sit high and sharp on his face, a mole on his lip revealed only when Max doesn’t bite into it, looking so fucking pretty.

Maybe that’s why he’s here of all places. Scouted off the fucking streets and put in a shitty apartment in some mirror nightmare of Daniel’s, waiting impatiently for Vogue to call.

Max is still staring at him, and Daniel doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. He’s not going to fucking card Max in his own apartment, that’s a cunt move. Max would probably throw the card in his face, if he asked, indignant little glare before he would lean in and –

“Yeah, alright,” he whispers but it’s enough. Max hears him, and he does lean in to pull his jeans the rest of the way off.

Max takes him into his mouth, lips stretched around the head almost obscenely, and suddenly Daniel has to force himself to close his eyes shut. It’s too much already, watching Max take him even deeper into his mouth as his head thumps back against the couch. He clearly knows what he’s doing, relaxing his throat as he goes. His hands are firm on Daniel’s hips, keeping a steady pressure until Daniel gets with the programme and fucks into his mouth.

He barely has the time to let Max know before he’s coming. But Max doesn’t move, keeps him on his tongue until his mouth is full and Max has to swallow.

“Shit, Maxy,” he moans, thighs still shaking as Max climbs to his feet. “You’re not. You don’t have to –“ But Max doesn’t leave, drops into Daniel’s lap with his shorts abandoned on the floor.

Max jerks himself off with one hand balanced on Daniel’s shoulder. It’s closer than Daniel’s been to someone else’s dick in years, since Scotty got down on one knee and fucked everything up. A cock is a cock is a cock, but Max’s dick looks almost pretty held in his own fist.

It makes him think of the fucking candle from before, how the wax had dripped between his fingers, and how quick he had been to suck them into his mouth, like he had just done to Daniel, to his dick.

“Daniel,” Max begs, watches Daniel watch him fuck into his own hand desperately. “Please.”

“Okay, yeah. I got you, Maxy.” He says and slips his fingers into Max’s mouth. It’s only the first two, but his dick still jerks at the reminder of the warm heat of Max’s mouth, the tight pressure and how his tongue cannot keep still. Max whines when he pulls them out, shoots him another furious look that is quickly replaced with a shout when Daniel brushes over his hole. “Like that, yeah?”

Max nods, eyes wide for another moment before they screw themselves shut as he comes with another sound. It’s another few minutes before Max speaks again, the words muffled against Daniel’s chest where he still hasn’t moved. “What’s that?”

Max huffs and sits upright, rubs at the spot on Daniel’s shirt where his dick has left a smear. “I said, the lights are back.” He says, gestures to the room now bathed in light.

“Oh.” Daniel couldn’t tell you when that happened, if it was before Max went to his knees or after. The candle still flickers behind them, pools of wax already hardened on the wood. “I guess they are, yeah.”

#maxiel #my writing #dont look at me ...#Rent au #but the reader decides how close to canon we are #if max's getting his degree at NYU or getting tied up at the cat scratch club #my fic #fic

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luvhughes43 · 19 days

Note

how did blake brothers react to her being pregnant? and the baby being born

they were a little shocked but not surprised! blake and nico get pregnant about 6 years into their relationship and right after they get married so it doesnt come to a surprise to anyone. blake tells them all individually so they all react differently but they were all happy!

jack: blake tells jack immediately! he's over at the house for dinner one night and blake just can't contain herself so she pulls him into an empty room and tells him. hes so shocked but so happy! hes like how he acted on lukes draft day but he was forced to be quiet because of all the other guests at the house.

luke: luke finds out when blake takes him to the mall to go shopping for some new clothes. blake had just had a doctors appointment a few days before and so she really wanted to go to the baby store so she just blurts it out to luke in the hallway of the mall😭😭 luke thought she was joking until she pulled out her sonogram. he was so taken off guard

quinn: blake wanted to tell all of her brothers in person so she had to wait soo long to tell quinn. she ends up telling him when the canucks are in town for a game and she just pulls him aside and shows him the start of the baby's nursery. he cries and congratulates her and nico! it takes everything in him and the rest of the brothers for that matter, to keep the pregnancy a secret until blake plans something to tell their parents.

now about the birth!

rudi was born a few weeks early and a few days before american thanksgiving so all the boys were able to meet the baby during their break.

jack: played it cool when he walked into the room but when he was passed the baby and they told him that they wanted him to be godfather??? he immediately started crying.

luke: a little nervous to hold the baby because he's just so small. he doesn't really want to hold the baby but then nico and blake share rudi's middle name "lukas" after both luke and luca, and then lukes nerves calm and he doesn't want to let rudi go.

quinn: was still in van when the baby was born but he was glued to his phone in-between practices/etc. just waiting for updates / the birth announcement. when the pictures finally start to roll in he's just so emotional and proud of his sister. shes gone through so much and hes just so glad that she's healed and is happy

this is so long im so sorry... im probs going to write a fic for this in the future!

#blake hughes au

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kaylinlmao · 2 years

Text

Fight *Edited*

Warnings: swearing, violence, r is 17, boys are 18

Summary: The new kid doesn't know any better and challenges the toughest crew in school, so they come to teach her a lesson in front of everyone. What they didn't expect was the new kid can fight.

"Hi. I'm Y/N L/N." I said quietly. I've gone to a new school every year of middle school and the first three in high school. Now that I'm in my last year of high school and 18 years old, I should be used to getting up and introducing myself right? Wrong. I still get anxiety talking in front of friends but a full classroom of teenage assholes? No way.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. Have a seat back there by those boys" Mr. Rogers, the English teacher said. I weaved through the desks swiftly with my eyes glued to the floor. I sat down, took out a notebook and pen and started doodling. I was drawing a pretty flower when I heard snickering behind me. Those boys who Mr. Rogers told me to sit by were staring at me and laughing. The one with short black hair was talking to the boy with dirty blondish hair. One with short curly hair was laughing with a guy with long black hair. Then there was a guy right behind me with long curly blonde hair. He was boring holes in the back of my head. Lastly, the boy sitting across from me. He had ginger hair and was chuckling at a joke one of his friends made.

DING DING DING. The bell rang, signaling lunchtime. I got up and walked outside. I found a nice tree, sat underneath it, got my lunch out, ate, and just people watched. There was a group of girls giggling at a table not far from me. Then one girl caught my eye and came over to sit beside me.

"Hello. I'm Donna! What's your name?" "Y/N" She was really sweet and we talked for a while during lunch. While we were talking, the group of boys walked out the lunch room doors and everyone scurried to get away from them like they had some sort of virus of something. "Who are those boys?" I asked Donna. "Oh. Um, they're bad news. You should stay away from them." She said, quietly. "I will if you tell me who they are and why everyone avoids them like they have the plague"

"Ok. Well, you see the one with the short black hair?" I nodded. "So, that's Bruce Yamada. He plays baseball and is like a serious ladies man. He'll pretend to be your friend then totally stab you in the back. The one with the dirty blond hair. Not the one with curly hair, the one with the Letterman jacket. That's Billy Showalter. He's the local paperboy. He's kinda mean. They're all really mean which is why I said you should stay away from them." I nodded my head and waved my hand impatiently.

"And?" "And then there's the guy with short curly hair. That's Finney Blake. He's more low-key mean then the other guys. Like he'll degrade the shit out of you while his friends beat your ass. Then the little short one with ginger hair. That's Griffin Stagg. He's more of the stalker. He'll be the one to figure out where you live and what your schedule is so they can jump you without getting caught. The there's those two boys right there in the corner." "The one with the long curly hair and long black hair?" I asked. "Yes" she confirmed. "They are Vance Hopper and Robin Arellano. They're the fighters. They're the ones who fight most of the fights."

"So why does everyone avoid them? They don't look very scary. They also seem like an unexpected group of friends." I said. Donna gave me the side eye. "Well, something happened three years ago and nobody's really over it" Now we're getting somewhere. "There was this guy. His name was Albert Shaw but he was nicknamed the Grabber. He would snatch up boys from off the streets and kidnap them. What he didn't think through was he kidnapped too many boys at once." "Who did he kidnap?" " Bruce Yamada, Vance Hopper, Billy Showalter, Griffin Stagg, Robin Arellano, and Finney Blake." I nodded my head and snapped my fingers. "So that's why they're all friends. To bond over the trauma" We looked at each other a moment and laughed.

"In all honesty though, they look like a bunch of douches." What I didn't know was that their stupid group was walking behind us and heard the last part of the conversation. Then they went back there and started making a plan to jump me after school and teach me a lesson in front of everybody.

DING DING DING. The bell rang for last period. "What class do you have next?" Donna asked. I looked at my schedule and groaned. "Math." "Oh me too! We can go together then!" "Ok" We walked in and sat down together. I just doodled on my arm and wasn't really listening until I felt something hit the back of my head. It was a note from the boy behind me.

"Just warning you. The dead kids group plan to jump you after school and beat your ass in front of everyone to teach you a lesson. -Wyatt"

"For reals? Why? That's ok though. I can fight. -Y/N"

"All six of them? Because they heard you calling them all douches -Wyatt"

"I'll be fine. Thanks for the warning. Wyatt. -Y/N"

I was in the middle of an internal battle for the rest of math class. Anxiety and confidence were fighting. For a second I was like "yo, I got this." Then anxiety kicks in and now I'm thinking "in front of an audience? I've never fought in front of people before!" I was about to have a panic attack when I remembered something my dad said. "When you're fighting, remember to focus on your opponents fighting style. They use their fists often, go for the legs." I was so zoned out remembering all of my dads fighting tips I didn't even notice that the bell rang and everyone was filing out of the classroom.

"Y/N? Are you ok?" Donna asked sweetly. "Yeah I'm fine. Just tired." "Ok. Lets go then." We walked out together to the crowded parking lot. As I rounded the corner I saw the boys waiting for me. I decided just to try and walk around them just to test them. I swerved around but one of them caught me by my wrist. Robin. "Yes? How can I help you douches?" By then a large crowd was coming over to see the fight. For some odd reason all of them looked at me with pity. "What'd you say?" Robin said dangerously slow. "How. Can. I. Help. You. Douches? Did your dumb little brains get it that time?" Now, I may have been cool and calm on the outside but I was fucking terrified on the inside. Why the fuck was I making them even madder? Omg. I was gonna die. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die.

They all looked at me livid and red with anger. I was just waiting for someone to swing first. Finally, Vance did. He swung but he put too much emotion into it. Emotion is weakness. I dodged it easily, grabbed his arm and pulled it behind his back. Then I wiped his legs out from under him so he hit his head on the concrete, blacking out. I then felt someone grab my hair and pull me up. I looked up to see Finney with his hand in my hair. I whimpered quietly but he heard it. So now he thinks I'm submitting and giving up. Wrong. And now I just move a little bit to the side over here, bring the heel of my foot up and kicked him with my heel right where the sun don't shine. He doubled over, falling to his knees and letting go of my hair.

2 down 4 to go. Billy and Bruce both started swinging. Now, if I'm being honest, they got a few really good punches in. But I noticed that Billy was fighting leaning on his toes. So if I just slide under his legs and pull then he falls over. Now Billy's down too. I also saw that Bruce wasn't completely focused on me. He was more focused on the crowd surrounding us. So I ran and tackled him. He fell straight down and hit his head. Robin now. He was gonna be a tough one. He's a damn good fighter. I swung first just to test my theory. He dodged and punched back. Yup! My theory was right. He pulls his punches. They last too long and go further then necessary.

When he punched my eye, I won't lie. I almost blacked out. But I had enough in me to pull his arm and flip him across. He landed on top of Vance who was just coming around. They were all on the ground except for Griffin. I walked over to him and socked him straight in the chin. He walked backwards and tripped over Bruce's leg. Done. It was absolutely silent. As I was waking away, I heard someone say "how did she beat all six of them?"

I walked over to the boys helping each other up, furious. I pointed at Robin. "You pull your punches. It gives more time to grab it and get you back before you can punch again." I pointed at Billy. "You fight on your toes which gives you terrible balance. Fight on the balls of your feet, not your toes." I point at Bruce. "You kept focusing on the crowd, not your opponent. It gave me a chance to take you by surprise." I point at Griffin. "You rely too much on your friends. You can only rely and trust yourself." I point at Finney. "You need more confidence. Be confident in your abilities." I point at Vance. "Lastly, you. You fight with too much anger and emotion. Emotion is weakness." I walked away quickly to my car and hopped in. My parents were at work and so was my sister. When I got home, I went to the bathroom to see how bad it was. I looked and saw I just had a black eye and a bloody nose. And scratches and bruises all around but. I cleaned it and sat down to read, not knowing that at the moment, 6 boys were developing an unhealthy obsession with me.

So. This is my first imagine. It was kinda long and it sucked. But I tried. All parts up to 9 are posted! Love y'all! :) -Kaylin

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augustjustice · 6 months

Text

Second in Line (aka Blake Harrington fic), 2/?

AO3 Link

Part 1

The telltale sound of footsteps echo again from inside the apartment, approaching the door.

“Eds? What is it?”

The voice rings out before Blake can see him, and a second later, he’s sliding into the doorway beside ‘Eds’ despite the tight space, one shoulder on the frame and his hip pressed firmly up against the other man’s.

Blake feels his heart speed up in his chest.

The man now standing before him has on a red Chicago Bulls sweatshirt, so faded it looks almost pink. Despite the cold outside, he’s wearing light wash, cutoff jean shorts at a length that would earn a dirty look from Blake’s father, and thick white baseball socks that are pulled up over his calves. His hair is floppy, not as long as Eds’ but curling over his ears and brushing the back of his neck–unkempt, Blake can practically hear the derision in his mother’s voice–and a shade or two lighter than Blake’s own, sun-kissed blonde highlights shimmering in it.

He squints down at Blake through thick-rimmed glasses, his brow furrowing in obvious confusion and…

…There they are. His mother’s honey-coated brown eyes peer back at him.

“Who’s this?” he asks.

When the man turns his head to look at ‘Eds,’ Blake catches a flash of white, so small and subtle he almost missed it entirely.

His brother’s got a single pearl earring, shining in the lobe of his right ear.

Eds gives a shrug of one shoulder, the twitch of his lip seeming to hint he’s repressing an amused smile. His eyes swivel between the pair of them, from Steve to Blake then back again, taking it all in.

"Sweetheart, why don't you ask the little dude his name?"

When Steve turns to him again, Blake feels an uncanny sense of déjà vu, like he’s looking into a mirror, or being reintroduced to a family friend he met when he was too small to remember.

“What’s your name, buddy?” Steve asks dutifully.

“Blake,” Blake stutters out nervously, having lost all of the decorum he managed to hold onto when introducing himself to Eds, “–Harrington.”

Eds and Steve’s heads turn towards each other in unison, perfectly in sync. Blake feels an inexplicable stab of jealousy at that, the way the pair of them move in tandem. It speaks to a familiarity that runs bone-deep.

“...Holy shit,” Steve murmurs, running a hand up through his hair.

Eds nods in agreement.

“Yeah, babe. What can I tell you? This one’s a doozy.”

Then he opens the door a bit wider, all while Steve continues to stare into the middle distance of the hallway.

“You’ll have to forgive Stevie here–he’s usually more of the Suzy Homemaker type than me, but, uh…you’re gonna have to give him a second, on this one, I think.” Hooking his arm easily into Steve’s own, Eds tugs the pair of them backwards, then gives a flourishing bow. “So come into our humble abode, young traveler. Sit a spell, and spin your tale for us.”

The two men back away from the doorway completely, then, giving Blake room to cross the threshold.

He does.

And it’s a small thing, really, but it feels big. Because, for the first time in his life, he’s stepping out of his parents’ wealthy, polished world…and into his long lost brother’s.

Quick tag list below the cut:

@zerokrox-blog, @just-super-fucking-gay, @justanother-anon, @aphrobites

I did my best to tag people who expressed interest in being on the tag list when I wrote the first part of this. However, I recognize that was back in December, so if you're on this tag list and would like to be removed, please feel free to let me know! I understand it's been a while and people have moved fandoms, etc. My apologies also if I missed anyone, and if you would like to be added, tell me and I'll be happy to tag you going forward!

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #future fic #steve harrington's parents #and his family in general #blake harrington au #my writing #my stuff #my things #second in line

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mashbrainrot · 8 months

Text

Henry Blake in 'The Interview'

In 2006, Larry Gelbart wrote dialogue imagining Trapper, Henry Blake, and Colonel Flagg had featured in the M*A*S*H episode 'The Interview'. Here is Henry's, with the original available to read here via Google Groups.

REPORTER: How does it feel, having the responsibility for saving such a great number of lives? HENRY: We just take ’em one or two, sometimes maybe twenty at a time. The big trick is not to start thinking of ’em as numbers – as just so many stats that go into a report that winds up in somebody’s filing cabinet under “out of sight, out of mind.” You’ve gotta always remember that what you’re dealing with is hurt people, people that have been run over by a war. REPORTER: And not just – HENRY: You gotta remember to take a peek at the odd dog tag now and then and remind yourself that that dangling leg or busted gut you’re going to try and put back together again is somebody’s dad or son or boyfriend – that all that blood and guts soiling your linen belongs to somebody that’s got a name attached to him.

REPORTER: You can’t afford to lose your sense of humanity. HENRY: There’s just so many senses you can lose over here. REPORTER: Humor not being one of them, obviously. HENRY: Around here laughter’s just crying without the tears. REPORTER: You have a family back home, sir? HENRY: In Bloomington. The one in Illinois, not in Indiana – unless things have changed since I went away. REPORTER: You keep in touch with them, of course, your family. HENRY: We write, we phone. Far apart as we are, I don’t think we’ve ever been closer. REPORTER: Would you like to say hello to them on television? HENRY: Be better if this was kissovision, but, yeah, can I? REPORTER: Go right ahead. HENRY: Lorraine? Hi, honey. Hi, kids. I got your report cards this morning and I had Radar go out post ’em on the bulletin board here so everybody can see why I’m so darn proud of you. Especially how you’re doing in math. You must get those brains from your mom. Got to be. Old as I am, I still don’t know how many tens to give someone for a five-dollar bill. (TO REPORTER) Thanks. REPORTER: That it? HENRY: That’s it. (TO CAMERA) Except I’m counting the days till we’re back together again. REPORTER: You have any idea when that will be? HENRY: I try not to have too many ideas. There’s always someone who ranks you who’s sure you’ll agree he’s got a better one. REPORTER: When you do finally get home, what are you going to tell your children is the biggest lesson being over here has taught you? HENRY: To always try to work things out, I guess. Whatever those things might happen to be. You don’t make your point killing the other guy. Even if you do it’s kind of wasted if the other guys not around to get the message. REPORTER: You seem – if all may so, Colonel – you seem near exhaustion. HENRY: What I am mostly is tired of being tired. We’re supposed to be a hospital but it’s more like a chop shop around here. We’re up to our elbows in people that other people are doing their best to chop down. REPORTER: That doesn’t lead to a lot of sleep, I would imagine. HENRY: I used to think of sleeping in terms of hours. How many did I get last night, how many will I get to steal tonight. I’m down to minutes now. It’s like somebody broke one hand off the clock. REPORTER: Does that ever affect your performance? HENRY: I fell asleep a few weeks ago in the middle of resecting a patient’s bowel. How’s that for exhausted? REPORTER: Does that fishing hat mean there are those times when you do get to get away from it all? HENRY: What it means is that I have to fish for those times. And let me say, the biting’s pretty poor. REPORTER: Business is too good around here. HENRY: Let’s just say it takes a whole lot longer to take a bullet out of a belly than it does putting one into one. REPORTER: Thank you, sir. HENRY: Can I say one more thing? REPORTER: Of course. HENRY: I just want you to know we all here are grateful for this visit you’ve paid us, this attention you’re paying to the job we’re doing. You get the feeling sometimes, being over here that, aside from our families, we’ve kind of dropped off the planet, that we’ve been kind of disinvited to the party – like everyone back home is busy living their real lives and for us to give them a call when we get back to town. (TO REPORTER) That sound too preachy? REPORTER: It sounded just fine, Colonel. HENRY: Henry. I’m a lot more a Henry than I’ll ever be colonel. REPORTER: Thank you, Henry. HENRY: Tell me the truth: didn’t that feel better? REPORTER: You’re an excellent doctor. HENRY: Hey – that’s why I’m over here getting 300 hundred dollars a month.

#it is the anniversary of gelbart's passing today #henry blake #larry gelbart #mash #mash 4077 #m*a*s*h #mashblr #helen speaks #ive not seen these around tumblr i dont think but sorry if someone has already posted them #mash s4 #mash s04ep25

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sweaterkittensahoy · 26 days

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okay if you had to "there was only one bed!" two of the guys, what do you think would be the funniest combo?

Okay, so "funniest" is very subjective. Let's go to the bullets for this one:

Bucky and Buck: Fucking hilarious as mutual idiots pining trying not to touch each other even though they ALWAYS touch each other, so the effort to NOT is actually the funniest goddamn thing. Go to bed back to back but NOT TOUCHING and wake up cuddled like puppies. But they're fucking idiots, so they snap apart like two magnets with the same polarity and try and pretend like NOTHING IS WEIRD. Good news for us, they have to do this A SECOND TIME. And this time. Well, fuck it. "We always touch, Bucky. Why is this weird?" / "It's...intimate." / "What about us isn't?" And then the same second realization hits, and they snap the bed frame with the victory fuck.

Buck and Curt and Bucky: Zero attempts at sex. Curt grew up sharing a bed with siblings and wakes up drooling on Buck's chest with his legs on Bucky's stomach. Kicks Bucky in the dick in his sleep.

Bubbles and Crosby: No platonic cuddling issues. But then they both wake up with boners, and um. Well. Huh. Maybe we should pretend that didn't happen. Crosby makes it ten minutes before his brain sends him into the bathroom while Bubbles is trying to jerk off and frantically NOT say Crosby's name. Crosby shouts, trips on nothing, and takes out the shower curtain as he lands in the tub. They laugh so hard they cry. During their first kiss, Crosby gets shampoo in his eyes.

Rosie and Ken: They both stare at the bed, and then Rosie blurts out, "I can take the couch," and Ken says, "No, I can," and somehow as they argue about it, Rosie ends up saying, "No, look, you have to take the bed because if I take the bed, all I'll think about is you NOT being on the bed." And it's a fucking rom-com moment of cuteness that ends with them both going for the kiss and hitting their noses together hard.

Bucky and Curt: There's no drama. Just some quality fuck and snuggle time. Curt is absolutely the big spoon.

Curt and Ken: Look. Curt's the biggest slut in the 100th. Even past Bucky. And he will remind you. "What do I care, Kenny? I've been in beds with people I've known a lot less about." / "Fuck, your sex life must be average." / "What?" / "The best sex is with someone who knows you." / "Prove it." Anyway, it's filthy.

Douglass and Hambone: Hambone bites in his sleep. Feral motherfucker. In his defense, he got that gold tooth after his brother punched him in his sleep. So.

Douglass and Blakely: Both silently wishing for a tree to run into full-faced to not have to lie next to each other and have the yearnings. Crosby is actually there as well and calls dibs on the couch, which leads them both to yelling WHAT and then staring at each other. Crosby takes the couch and knocks out and sleeps like the dead. Douglass and Blakely figure it out.

Demarco and Macon: Macon calls dibs because of his neck. Demarco offers to rub his neck once he's had a shower because he knows it hurts. Just as they're both realizing that maybe they're into each other, Meatball takes a running leap onto the bed because he has not been paid attention for a full five minutes.

Bucky and Brady: Brady intentionally sticks his cold feet on Bucky and cackles with glee. Bucky body slams him onto the bed, which just makes Brady laugh more.

Jack and Bucky: There is nothing funny here. Jack outranks Bucky, and Bucky can sleep in the fucking tub for all Jack fucking cares. Bucky sleeps on the floor on the side of the bed Jack sleeps on just in case he can trip him in the middle of the night. Jack kicks him in the eye by accident. It's the funniest night of Bucky's life.

Bucky and Marge: Oh no. What will they do. Clearly just platonic friends on a trip to meet Marge's husband at his new base. However could they--they fuck. They call Buck long distance and they fuck.

Buck and Marge: Oh, they absolutely call Bucky long distance and fuck. And then Bucky drives five hours to meet them at the hotel for a fuck at dawn.

Jack and Rosie: Jack is dying slowly because he's had a crush since Rosie was first a dork in the officer's club, and now he's seen him fly and be such a good fucking leader. Meanwhile, Rosie's brain is just the Wii background music because Jack's so nice! What a great friend! But then he realizes Jack only sleeps in his boxers, and oh fucking shit i might have a problem.

Ken and Winks: What's weird about this. They've been sharing a pup tent by the runway for months. A whole bed? And they can cuddle but ALSO turn over? HEY!

Jack and Harding: Jack does NOT have feelings for his CO. That's not a thing he is dealing with. Nope. Harding does NOT have feelings for his Air Exec. That's not something he is dealing with. Nope. But turns out they're both horrific insomniacs and they end up talking and well. It works out.

Meatball and Demarco: There is one bed, and Meatball spoons Demarco.

Meatball and anyone else: It's Meatball's bed. What the fuck do you think you're doing.

#masters of the air #fic tropes #there was only one bed #i made myself laugh several times

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cacoetheswriting · 11 months

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pearl: october 1980

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 2.2k summary: eddie has a conversation with the girl of his dreams.

content warnings: best friends to lovers, part of a slow burn, a lil mutual pining, adult language, use of pet names, oblivious idiots, self-doubt / insecurities - if i missed anything, pls let me know!

pearl masterlist <- part of this lil series, but can definitely be read as a standalone.

When it came to starting a conversation with people, Eddie sure as hell was not the confident type.

Middle School didn’t allow for a lot of practice, especially since as a person with interests that differed from the norm, he was shunned quite early on into a category he couldn’t, and often still can’t get out of no matter how hard he tries: freak.

People weren’t lining up to spend time with him even in a platonic capacity, and they sure as hell didn’t want to get to know him in a romantic way.

But with time, Eddie learned to be okay with that.

Especially since, as it turns out, most girls in Hawkins had some sort of ‘bad boy’ fantasy they liked to keep a dirty little secret and he was happy to oblige.

Plus it’s not like he badly needed anyone to actually call his own. High School was apparently a time of self-discovery and what he discovered in the last month was that honestly, he really didn’t mind being the almost invisible freak.

That all changed when you came around.

Your entrance into his life was rather unexpected and Eddie quickly realised that he needed to up his game. Yeah, perhaps he still wanted to be left alone, but that thought took a back burner whenever you laughed.

Honey, the sound of your laughter. Every time he heard it, his heart would skip a beat and his palms would start to feel clammy, sweaty, as he gravitated towards the sound instantly. As he gravitated towards you.

Unfortunately for Eddie, so did everyone else in this godforsaken town.

Who could blame them? Your arrival right at the start of the school year was perhaps the most exciting thing to happen in Hawkins since that maniac Creel murdered his entire family in the late 50s.

You had quickly become the new it girl and in the blink of an eye, you two were running in different circles. Your reality had become so far removed from his own, any hopes or dreams he had of getting to know you on a deeper level had become just that: dreams.

God knows he still thought about you often.

“Care to share with the rest of the group, Mr. Saltzman?” the teacher calls out, causing all heads to turn simultaneously in the general direction of the distraction.

This includes Eddie's and he's glancing up from the scribbles in his notepad to focus instead on a few rows ahead where you, the girl everyone wanted to be friends with, sat.

The boy sitting next to you shifts uncomfortably in his seat, shaking his head.

“We were just discussing the history of Halloween,” you chime sweetly. The teacher doesn’t seem to believe you for a second, but with such a likeable personality like yours, there’s not much else to say.

“Blake here doesn't believe Halloween dates back to the Celts, and the ancient festival of Samhain,” you continue with the quite convincing lie and Eddie's surprised you know these obscure facts, “He thinks I’m bluffing when I say the day marked the end of summer for the Celts, who believed on the night of October 31st the boundary between the worlds of the living and the dead became blurred, thus what we now know and celebrate as Halloween.”

Your confidence certainly is admirable, although why you choose to protect the douche you called a ‘friend’ was beyond the young metalhead.

“I guess the conversation probably could have waited till after class so, won’t happen again. We’re sorry,” you add with a soft smile.

When the teacher returns to the blackboard, resuming the lesson no one was really paying attention to anyway, Eddie observes as you mumble something to Blake before turning your head ever so slightly in his direction.

The air hitches in his throat as he awaits the standard "What are you looking at, freak.", but it never comes.

Instead, you smile at him and Eddie can feel his face turn a gleaming shade of red — pathetic. He quickly ducks his head down, but can still feel your eyes on him. It takes everything he has to stop himself from looking up again, afraid of somehow making a fool of himself.

Luckily, he manages to keep distracted till the bell rings, but he's not completely in the clear 'cause as everyone disperses in a hurry, you approach him.

“What you doodlin’?”

When he doesn't immediately answer, or meet your gaze for that matter, your hand appears in his field of vision. Your moves are hesitant at first, but since Eddie doesn't protest, you twirl the notebook around on the desk.

“Well shit, Eddie. These are really fucking cool.”

He snaps his head up, possibly a little too quickly, a little too eagerly, but he couldn’t help the act of surprise 'cause he didn’t realise…

“You know my name?”

Your pretty eyes latch onto his momentarily and a smile circles your lips. “Of course I do. As the new kid in town, I had to make it my business to know who’s who since y’all ogled me and my family from day one as if we were from outer space.”

He let out a semi-nervous chuckle as you pause, glancing back down at the notebook.

“Plus, you’re pretty much the only person in this entire school who’s got a good taste in music,” you state casually, as if it’s no big deal. And to you it’s not. Though for Eddie, your admission causes his heart to flutter inside his chest since no one's ever admitted out loud to liking the same shit as him.

“Anyway, are you going to this Halloween party tonight? I’m thinking of dressing up as Janis Joplin and I could really use someone to be Peter Albin…”

“I’d love to!”

You giggle at his excitement and Eddie's thanking some lucky stars that his rather abrupt reaction doesn’t scare you off.

“I-I mean, I love Peter Albin. Janis too. Dressing up as them with you would be cool," he rambles.

“Cool,” you say and flick through some pages of his notebook and bend over slightly to scribble something down. “This is my address. Come by around six if you wanna make it for dinner, my mom’s making lasagna. Also, if you wanna stay over after the party, we have a spare room so bring a change of clothes or somethin’.”

Stay over at your house... Eddie swallows and does his best not to show how his insides are literally shaking at the thought of: a) going to a party with you, and b) this casual invite to what one could only call a sleepover.

The bell rings, signalling it’s time for next period.

A small part of the metalhead is angry since it means the two of you have to part ways, at least for now, but as he stands to gather his things, to his pleasant surprise, you wait.

A certain envious feeling spreads through Eddie because he was never good at making friends, yet it seemed to come so naturally to you. Then something crosses his mind. What if this is some elaborate joke? After all, you are friends with some of the worst people this school has to offer, however, he does his best to shake the thought away for now and follows you out into the crowded hallway.

“So, are you a big Joplin fan?” Eddie asks, his best attempt to continue the conversation.

“Pearl is my favourite album,” you reply, “I know that could be a little tame to someone who wears a Judas Priest t-shirt, but I promise I also take devil worship super seriously.”

He snorts at your joke and when your eyes meet his once again, his priorities shift and he swear he's willing to do quite possibly anything to become your friend.

To say you checked your appearance at least forty times wouldn’t be a gross over exaggeration.

You had the outfit planned long before you were even invited to this Halloween party, you knew it was perfect and something Janis Joplin herself would likely wear, yet ever since you asked Eddie Munson to not only join you, but also compliment the costume with his own, you were suddenly feeling nervous.

The curly-haired teen was by far the coolest person in this stingy town — although it didn’t seem like he knew that or like anyone else shared your belief.

His metalhead vibe reminded you a lot of the kids you grew up around, which is exactly the initial reason why you were so drawn to him. Though it took you weeks to finally approach him. Partially because you were scared he’d brush you off, but mainly because ever since you moved to Hawkins with your parents at the brink of August and September, the more popular kids latched onto you like leeches.

“Don’t waste your time with Munson,” Blake would say repeatedly, “He’s a freak.”

Unfortunately for your new group of friends, you didn’t care about social status and it also helped to know Eddie was just as fascinated with you as you were with him. His secret glances and soft smiles when no one else was looking only affirmed that belief.

So you bit the bullet and invited him out.

Bold move on your part. One you were almost starting to regret as you nervously flattened the crinkles of your loose shirt, glancing at the clock on the wall in anticipation.

Eddie doesn’t show up for dinner.

You try to hide the disappointment in front of your parents and eat the meal while actively listening to your dad retelling the events from his day at work.

“Kid, I tell ya, moving here was the best idea your mother’s ever had. Aside from marrying me and havin' you, of course. Wanna know the most exciting thing that’s happened? There was a mixup with our lunch order. Can you believe it?”

You help mom clean up after before going to quickly freshen up, brush your teeth, and grab your set of house keys. After saying a quick goodbye, still thinking about the boy that never showed, you walk outside and are about to begin your journey to the party you no longer wanted to go to when a figure emerges from the shadows.

“Shit,” you exhale and place a hand over your heart, “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” Eddie says sheepishly, running a hand through his brown locks. “I-I wasn’t sure if you were still home so…”

Your brows string together as you take a step towards him.

“How long have you been out here, Eddie?”

“Uhm, at least the last half hour,” he answers, “I noticed the light was on upstairs, but I wasn’t sure if that was your room or not. Figured I’d hang around and you’d either show up or I’d head home embarrassed.” He pauses. “Sorry I didn’t come for dinner.”

“It’s okay,” a white-lie. “Still wanna go to the party?”

“If you want to.”

Eddie slides his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and you notice then how good he looks under the dim street lamps. Peter Albin, eat your heart out.

“I like your outfit,” you compliment him with a genuine smile and you swear you can see him blush.

“Thanks,” he says with a little more confidence than he’s displayed thus far, “but you arguably look a hundred percent better than me.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you, Eddie. That’s very sweet.”

“You’re welcome.”

The two of you never make it to the party.

Instead, Eddie offers to show me Skull Rock and that’s how you end up laying down on the cold ground, arm-to-arm, somewhere in the middle of the forest.

Truth be told, if you were with anyone else, you wouldn’t have agreed to this in the first place. An eerily quiet night and the deep dark woods are like a recipe for disaster in most horror movies.

Things felt different with Eddie.

Despite only having three conversations in the span of one day, the doe-eyed boy made you feel safe.

The few hours hiding from the world under this rock also made you realise how much you actually have in common. The conversation flow was incredibly natural. You drifted from topic to topic as if you had known each other a lifetime and in the space of two hours, you went from sitting across from one another to being in the formerly named position — pinkies gently grazing.

His presence next to yours is soothing. It’s also exciting, thrilling even. You hadn’t experienced this sensation before, with anyone, and you quickly find yourself thinking perhaps this could be more than just a friendship.

Until Eddie says, “Friends are hard to come by in Hawkins. I’m glad we’re here and I hope we can hang out more.”

Darkness hides your disappointment.

Short lived, the idea of dating the boy next to you so it’s easy to extinguish the flame inside and convince yourself that perhaps this was for the best.

Relationships end. Sometimes they do so quite badly.

Friendships however, well, they have a tendency to last forever.

“From now on, Eddie, we’ll never not be hanging out.”

pearl masterlist

thank you for reading <3

& tagging some cool people that expressed interest in this lil series: @cactusangie , @spenciesprincess , @capitanostella , @ashlynnkennedy , @ms1oftheboys

#a prequel of sorts—#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x best friend reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #bestfriend!eddie #pearl (eddies version)

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howlingday · 2 months

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Dark Au:I'm not one much for Grimdark either. Would Winter and Winter try to bond with Jaune because he was one of the last people to ever talk to Weiss? Would Cardin and his team still give Jaune crap? How would Ghira and Kali learn of Blake's death? Maybe someone (like Ironwood) would register the name Belladonna so they contact them. Would anyone train Jaune here?

Winter and Whitley are still in the middle of their own grieving process, which is kind the opposite of each other. Winter's thrown herself hard into her work, despite being told to take it easy after hearing the news and attending the funeral. Whitley sits in Weiss' old room, crying as he remembers the sister who used to sing songs for him.

Cardin and his team won't give anyone crap because, well, they're kinda dead. Honestly, part of what gave me this idea was how someone pointed out that there were shadow people at the initiation, which means that at least four people in the canon died or failed otherwise during initiation, but we never saw them.

Ghira and Kali learn the same way I assume the other parents learn of their child's demise. Ghira's been seen lashing out more and more, losing his temper on everyone except Kali, who's been inconsolable since the news.

Jaune isn't going to be training any time soon. He's got some... problems that need resolved first.

Of course, this is all what I'm thinking right now. Can't really say anything official on the subject.

#rwby #jaune arc #dark au #rwby au #my thoughts #my answer #my answers #ghira belladonna #kali belladonna #winter schnee #whitley schnee #cardin winchester

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bradshawssugarbaby · 3 months

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Under The Stars and Stripes - One (Capt. Syverson x OFC)

a/n: look at your girl coming up with two multiparters at once!!! i wanted to write something sweet for capt. syverson (who moving forward, i have named luke, fyi), and my partner sort of suggested this (i mean, kinda, he thought it was what i was writing - turns out he was wrong but gave me a v good idea).

pairing: Capt. Syverson x Joanna Blake (OFC)

warnings/content: injuries, medical discussions, age gap (38 + 26), mentions of military service, inaccurate descriptions of physical therapy + military life.

word count: 1.9k

The unforgiving glare of the overhead lights in the medical center cast a harsh radiance over the waiting room. Luke's cerulean blue eyes squinted against the artificial glow in the room, his gaze wandering in search of anything remotely captivating. Opposite him, an infographic poster touted the virtues of physical activity and mental health, a message that seemed incongruous with the knee brace he begrudgingly wore. The irony of contemplating jogging or hitting the gym while nursing a wounded knee did not escape him.

"Luke Syverson?"

He swiveled his head in response to the melodic call of his name. In the doorway stood a woman, her blonde hair secured with a claw clip, a clipboard balanced gracefully in her hand. A warm, friendly smile adorned her heart-shaped face. With a half-hearted wave, Luke acknowledged her.

"Present and accounted for, ma'am."

Internally, he winced at the self-consciousness his response provoked. Rising to his feet, Luke attempted to distribute his weight favorably, minimizing the strain on his compromised leg. A sharp pang shot through his knee, confined by the rigid embrace of the brace. Collecting his crutches, he navigated his way toward the young woman, focusing on maintaining a semblance of grace. The crutches, tools of mobility he had resisted vehemently at home, now betrayed his struggle.

As he drew closer, Luke observed that she was notably younger than he, the realization of his own impending forties sinking in. Her olive-green eyes sparkled, framed by honey-colored strands that cascaded like molten gold. A sun-kissed radiance illuminated her complexion as she beamed at him.

"I'm Joanna. I'll be your physiotherapist moving forward. Let's head to the exam room; we can go over the paperwork together."

Her voice possessed a cheerfulness that could rival a weather reporter or red carpet interviewer. Luke nodded in understanding, trailing behind her as they entered the room. The once sterile lighting had mellowed, casting a more agreeable ambiance.

The examination room emanated professionalism, each piece of equipment meticulously arranged, and charts displayed with precision. Joanna gestured toward the examination table, indicating for Luke to take a seat. Settling into a chair nearby, she balanced the clipboard on her lap.

"Alright, Captain Syverson, let's delve into the paperwork and gain a betterunderstanding of your situation, ok?" Joanna initiated, her focus shifting to the documents before her.

“Let’s start with the basics, full name and date of birth?”

“Right,” Luke began, “"Full name's Luke Everett Syverson, ma'am. Ain't much use for the middle one, but it's there. I was born April 15, 1968, ma'am, interrupted my ma’s Easter dinner. Home base is Fort Bragg, North Carolina, hence why I’m here in Durham. Otherwise woulda’ probably gone to the centre in Tennessee, closer to where I’m from and all..”

“You know, I never use my middle name much either, but, just in case there’s two Luke Syversons in the armed forces, gotta include it to make sure I’ve got the right one.,” Joanna nodded her head, humming as she jotted down her notes.

The room embraced a quiet tension as Luke settled onto the examination table, his eyes following Joanna's movements with a mix of curiosity and wariness. The dimmed lighting cast a softer glow, alleviating the clinical starkness of the surroundings. Joanna, her gaze focused on the paperwork, began with a series of routine questions about the nature of Luke's injury.

"So, Luke," she started, her tone gentle yet professional, "tell me about when the injury occurred, and how has the journey been since then?"

Luke took a moment, his gaze drifting to a framed landscape photo on the wall. The distant mountains seemed to echo the weight of his thoughts. "Iraq. Torn ACL," he said, sparing the details but acknowledging the source of his struggle. "Routine patrol, turned into anything but routine."

Joanna nodded, recognizing the understated weight in his words. "I see. That's a significant injury. And you had surgery to correct it?"

Luke shifted his weight uncomfortably on the exam table, nodding his head. “Sure did, m’am, three days ago. Still hurts somethin’ fierce, but I guess that’s what I’m here for.”

He sighed, his focus on the knee brace that had become both a literal and symbolic constraint.

“To be completely honest with ya, m’am, I just wanna get back on my feet so I can figure out what to do with my life now, you know?”

She nodded, understanding the complex emotions wrapped around his military service and the path to recovery. "Recovery and returning to civilian life is a process, Luke. We'll take it one step at a time. Do you have any idea what you’d like to end up doing in future?”

“I haven’t really thought about it. Never went to college, so a lot of stuff’s off the table now. Plus, I’m getting old. Not sure where that leaves me either. Thought about maybe becoming a police officer or an EMT, you know? I wanted to do that when I was a kid, but then joined the military on my 18th birthday instead.”

Joanna smiled warmly as she made a couple of notes on her paperwork, before continuing to further establish the details of Luke's history, the conversation shifting to one about his daily struggles and the impact the knee surgery had on his life. With each exchange, a bridge of understanding formed between them, an unspoken alliance forged in the pursuit of healing.

In those moments, Joanna glimpsed the man behind the military façade. Luke rarely dwelled on his time overseas, focusing instead on the immediate goal: shedding the brace and moving forward. The physical therapy sessions ahead were not merely about mending a knee; they were about reclaiming a life after two decades of military service.

As the examination progressed, Joanna outlined a personalized rehabilitation plan, detailing exercises and strategies to rebuild strength and mobility. The room, once filled with tension, now held a promise of progress and recovery.

"Alright, Luke," Joanna said, concluding their discussion, "we something to start with at least. Let's work together to get you back on your feet."

With the paperwork completed, the clipboard now resting on the desk, Joanna moved seamlessly into the practical aspect of Luke's rehabilitation. She began guiding him through a series of light exercises designed to gradually rebuild some of the strength in his knee that he’d lost. The atmosphere in the room shifted from contemplative to purposeful as Joanna demonstrated each movement with precision, her instructions clear and encouraging.

Luke, though initially reserved, found himself following her lead, a quiet determination in his eyes. As they progressed through the exercises, Joanna observed the subtle signs of discomfort and adjusted the routine accordingly, ensuring that the session struck the delicate balance between challenge and progress. The room resonated with the rhythmic hum of therapeutic effort, a shared endeavor toward a future where the weight of the brace would be a distant memory. As the session neared its end, Joanna offered a reassuring smile.

"Great work today, Luke. We'll take it step by step, and before you know it, you'll be moving freely again."

“Thanks m’am, I appreciate it,” Luke replied, a soft smile forming on his lips.

“It’s what I’m here for,” Joanna nodded as she held the door open for him in an effort to make it easier to exit as he hopped on his crutches, “And Luke? I wanna hear that you’ve been using the crutches at home as well, or you’ll just injure your knee further.”

“Yes, m’am,” He chuckled, shaking his head as he made his way out of the clinic.

Later that night, Luke settled into the worn-out couch in his living room, the dim light casting a soft glow across the room. He dialed his younger brother Travis’ number, the anticipation of sharing his day evident in the subtle smile that played on his lips.

After a couple of rings, Travis’ voice came through the phone, lively and teasing.

“Well, well, if it ain't the elusive older brother himself. What's new, Luke?"

"Not much, just had my first therapy session today,” Luke chuckled softly as he took a bite out of his slice of pizza.

"Therapy? Never thought I'd see the day, Luke. What's the world coming to?"

"It's for the knee, not my sanity, Travis."

"Alright, alright. So, how'd it go, Captain?"

"Surprisingly good, actually. The therapist, Joanna, she's something else. Got me doing all these exercises. Says I'll be back to hiking those Arkansas woods in no time."

“Joanna, huh? Luke, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a little bit of a thing for her. Florence Nightingale effect?"

"You watch too many movies, and besides, idiot, that’s when the therapist falls for the patient. Ain’t gonna happen. She's just good at her job, makes me feel less uncomfortable, I s’pose."

"Sure, sure. So, what's the verdict? She cute? Should I tell the kids they’ve got a new aunt?"

"You'll be waiting a long time for that. But seriously, it felt good, productive. And, she asked me about what I wanna do now. Got me thinkin’ about my options."

"Really? Did she smell the smoke? Set off a fire alarm?"

“Funny. I’m thinkin’ maybe becoming an EMT, you know? Can still help people, use my military training, just…stayin’ stateside and less sand.”

“You did always have a thing for helping people, I’ll give you that. Now, about Joanna…”

“Travis, forget it.”

“I’m just saying, Ma’s 60th birthday is coming up, and you know you’re in for a grillin’ about when you’re giving her grandbabies.”

“She has two already,” Luke protested, laughing as he took another slice from the box of pizza, “Besides,” he said with his mouthful, “I don’t know if I even want kids at this point. I’d be dead by the time they had kids”

“Well, if they take after you, maybe. I had kids at a reasonable age.”

“I s’pose, how are they anyway? Bet ya Hannah’s grown like a bad weed since I saw her last, and Maddie? She was knee-high to a grasshopper last time I saw her.”

“They’re good. Maddie’s almost 5 now, gettin’ quite feisty, like her mama, and Hannah’s taken up cheerleadin’, now I gotta become well-versed in making perfect pigtails in her hair if her mother’s busy with the little one.”

“Better you than me, Trav. Don’t think I could figure out how to do those tiny lil elastics.”

As Luke engaged in a heartfelt conversation with his brother, the echoes of family life stirred a contemplation of his own future. The tales of parenthood shared by his brother left a lingering thought.

Did he, despite his usual reserved nature, harbour a desire for a family of his own?

Love and romance had often found him awkward and uncertain, but when it came to showering affection on his nieces, those barriers melted away effortlessly. His musings naturally gravitated towards Joanna, her radiant smile replaying in his mind, illuminating the corners of his apartment like a beacon.

The playful teasing from Travis planted an idea in his mind, one he never expected to be considering, which prompted Luke to consider whether there might be something extraordinary about his connection with Joanna.

Setting the cordless phone down on the table beside the couch, he sighed heavily, the weight of his newfound solitude settling in as he savored a third slice of pizza. His eyes roamed around the room, the empty expanse of his apartment feeling almost suffocating. The hush of the house, disrupted only by the dull roar of football highlights on the TV, intensified the solitude. In that moment, amidst the quietude, the prospect of companionship and a shared future became a lingering ember in Luke's thoughts.

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