#show me your friendship items

[pngheavy]

#sanae hanekoma #mr h #my art #fan art #twewy #the world ends with you #isnt it kind of cold how his affection when you go to his shop is at zero #are we strangers mr H? #who were you saving all this time? #show me your friendship items #twewy spoilers

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (III)

A whole lot of confusion as to whether Reader and her yakuza friend are actually dating. After much back and forth and a coworker being threatened, the awaited confession might finally take place.

Bonus part: Kazuya tells Reader about his and Daitou's past and how they ended up working for the yakuza.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

TW: Obsessive behavior, violence

Tags: @vinivave @ansy-tea @evvie8 @angelicbunnee @jingerbreadoutofstock @azukoya @randomlyblues @alien-consummation @neverlandlostchild @mimiemie @toji-whore @cloudie-skay @lilkittenmitten

The items are scanned and Kazuya finishes paying. He looks back, searching for Daitou, and finds him wandering among the narrow aisles of magazines and manga. They'd stopped by the konbini at the train station after their job.

"Here's your bentou." The blonde man extends a small box, eyeing his friend suspiciously. "Say, do you have an upset stomach or something? You're uglier than usual." 

Daitou thanks him with a nod, but doesn't take the neatly packaged food. He's idly playing with the cover of a romance volume, bending and straightening its corner.

"Nah, nothing like that. Just, ya know, feels a bit like (Y/N)'s been avoiding me. She hurries straight home after work and barely waves hi. I thought we'd do more things together now that we're dating."

Kazuya nearly spits out the soda he opened while listening to Daitou's troubles. He snorts and quickly wipes his mouth. 

"Wait, are you serious? You actually asked her out? And she said yes??"

Daitou thinks back to the time he gifted you your stalker's finger and teeth, the way you defended him, and the way you quietly walked home and almost held hands. That pretty much made it official, didn't it? So he confidently nods to his utterly baffled partner in crime.

"You little rascal, you! Who would've thought you had it in you?!" He cheerfully slaps Daitou's back and wraps his arm around his neck. The dark haired man blushes and scratches his cheek awkwardly. "You should've told me earlier!"

True. Between the two of them, Kazuya has always been extremely charismatic and popular with women. His perfectly combed blonde hair, his sparkling designer suits, his luxuriously elegant cologne. The handsome features and assertive smile. More than once he'd been approached by modeling agencies, and he likes to joke his lust for violence stopped him from living the glamorous life. In comparison, Daitou has the opposite effect on people. The room will empty if he steps inside. He's unnervingly tall, with bulging muscles, has multiple scars crossing his face, and his prosthetic eye always ends up twisted in the strangest position, causing him to look like he's only missing the straight jacket. Everyone is shocked upon hearing about their friendship. 

So it makes sense that Kazuya would have the required experience to offer him decent advice when it comes to (Y/N).

"Listen here, if there's one thing you should know, it's that women like a guy that fights for them. You gotta show them you care. What can you offer that other guys can't?"

The tall man listens intently, with a concentrated frown as if taking mental notes. He's not entirely sure who he should fight in this ordeal, but he doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of Kazuya, so he nods vehemently to his words.

"That's the short preview. If you have any more questions, just come over later. I'm piss tired, so I'll go home and have the nap of a lifetime." He yawns deeply to showcase his exhaustion and slowly walks away, throwing his hand in a lazy wave. 

The yakuza remains standing, still ruminating over the words of wisdom generously offered by the expert himself. Is he to randomly beat up people on the street as you watch? Won't Boss be angry if he attacks civilians? He gasps in realization. Perhaps this is what Kazuya meant. What kind of man is he if he can't even go against his Boss? So what if Boss won't like it? He has to prove himself to you. 

With newfound determination, he clenches his fists and gazes out of the window. 

That's when he notices you. You seem to be returning from work. Even more - and this causes his jaw to tighten in anger - some unknown man is walking next to you, cheerfully chitchatting and gesturing. 

That settles it. 

"You really didn't have to walk me home." You laugh clumsily to the man at your side.

A new coworker recently joined your company, and you've been asked to show him the ropes. You gradually discovered you had quite a lot in common, throughout your ample opportunities to gossip and talk leisurely. Your schedule isn't as packed nowadays, given you'll show up earlier and leave later.

Normally you'd prefer to be in your warm bed as soon as possible, but you've been feeling rather tense since the incident with Daitou. During his heated exchange with Kazuya, you've heard mentions of 'being liked by women' and 'having a crush on someone'. You thought it involved you and you nervously awaited further explanations from Daitou himself, but on the way back he was completely silent. You didn't have the courage to bring it up, so you assumed there must've been a misunderstanding somewhere along the way. 

Which, after all, would make plenty of sense. What business would a yakuza have with you? He's already shown much more courtesy than it was required of him. Hoping he'd also confess his feelings on top of everything was downright ridiculous and you're embarrassed to admit you'd harbored such cheesy fantasies to begin with. 

"Don't sweat it. You might not know", the coworker warns with lowered voice, "but this area is reeking of gangsters. I'm surprised you've been fine so far, but you should be more careful."

"O-oh...I see..." You glance at him and hold back a smirk. You doubt he could protect you from Daitou or Kazuya, but you appreciate his chivalry nonetheless. 

There's an uncomfortable pause as you stand in your doorframe, having reached the intended destination. The man hasn't left yet, waiting expectantly. He lowers his head towards yours and you swiftly slam the door, muttering something about an emergency. 

"Cute." He thinks to himself as he chuckles and steps away.

There's always a next time.

The coworker heads towards the train station in a relaxed strut. At the first intersection, however, he feels his clothes being pulled and he finds himself abruptly shoved in an empty room by an unknown assailant. 

Daitou easily lifts him up by his collar and nonchalantly throws him in a chair. It seems to be a small storage unit, possibly belonging to one of the shops. 

"What's your business with (Y/N)?" He barks.

"Huh? I should be the one asking-" The man pauses for a second, going over his conversations with you. "Could it be that you're the stalker she mentioned?"

Naturally, you had left out the part where your stalker was carefully packaged and dumped in a place unknown. To your coworker, he was very much still alive and a potential threat.

The yakuza is taken aback. 

"I'm her boyfriend!" He retorts angrily. 

"Bullshit. She doesn't have a boyfriend."

Another slap to the face. Daitou's cheeks are becoming increasingly red and he runs his fingers through his hair, attempting to calm down. Why, this son of a...

He marches to one of the metal shelves behind, grabbing his tool belt. Simultaneously, the door opens and Kazuya sheepishly peeks his head in. His blonde locks are ruffled and one can tell he's freshly woken up. 

"Yo, I just realized I might've been too metaphorical with you back at the store so I've been texting you, but you didn't-...Wait, why is there a guy handcuffed to the chair?"

He crosses his arms, with a habitual scolding glare towards his friend. 

"I just caught this cockroach flirting with (Y/N)! Went all the way to her place!" Daitou whines, his face full of indignation.

"Of course you know where she lives, you fucking stalker." The coworker exclaims bitterly. 

"Watch your mouth buddy, he ain't no stalker!" Kazuya straightens his back and approaches the mysterious man. "If he's right, and you've been messing with his woman...We ain't letting that go. Today you learn why no one fucks with the yakuza." 

The two men exchange a knowing look.

You drop yourself on the sofa and groan. Tomorrow will certainly be strange. Was the coworker trying to kiss you just now? You'll have to think of a polite way to turn him down next shift. Is it because you're not interested, or because you're still hoping to have a chance with Daitou? You slap your cheeks vigorously, trying to pull yourself out of such thoughts. 

You suddenly notice the foreign wallet sticking out of your bag. Your  coworker had dropped it earlier today while running for the train, and you offered to throw it in your bag to save time. Except you forgot to return it.

You check your phone. It hasn't been that long, so maybe you can still reach him if you hurry. Without much contemplation, you pluck the wallet and sprint out.

As you dash past the buildings, you have the idea of calling the man and asking him to wait instead. Why run like a madman? You stop and rest a hand against the wall, trying to catch your breath. Ugh, you've been so scattered today. This should've been the obvious choice, instead you sprang out. Silly. 

From around the corner you can make out the familiar wails you've learned to ignore. Whoever the yakuza tortures is not your problem. You are about to scurry away, yet something about these whimpers feels odd. No...Could it be?

You tiptoe down the vacant alleyway and try to catch a glimpse inside through the small, dirty window. As a matter of fact, it is your beloved coworker. Kazuya is holding his arm against a table, with the fingers forcefully fanned out, and Daitou has a blade secured over the pinky finger. 

You elbow yourself against the door in a theatrical entry. 

"What the hell are you guys doing?! That's my coworker!" You yell.

Daitou freezes, and Kazuya instantly releases his grasp. They turn to you, shocked.

"Stay out of it, (Y/N), this is to be settled among men. This bastard insulted your boyfriend, we can't let it slide!" Kazuya regains his composure and defends his cause fervently, pointing to the man that's now sobbing and crying uncontrollably. 

"Boyfriend?" You question, mouth agape. 

The blonde man stares at you. 

"You're...You're dating, aren't you?"

"Since when?" You demand, confused and upset.

Both you and Kazuya turn to Daitou for answers.

"I'm going to ask you one more time. Did you actually ask her out, Daitou? Did you say it out loud?" Kazuya's voice breaks in exasperation.

"W-well, I didn't...I didn't say it, but I thought..." the man's eyes dart between you and his friend. He gulps. "W-we almost held hands, didn't we?"

Overwhelmed with anger, the blonde stomps over to the shelves and kicks one to make his point, loudly bemoaning his friend's lack of social awareness. He can't believe he went along with his nonsense. Him, of all people! He should've anticipated it. 

As the coworker weeps and Kazuya continues his foul monologue, you can't help the blush that's now burning across your face. You fidget anxiously next to the tattooed man.

"Y-you thought we were dating?"

"Sorry for not making it clear." Daitou is once again twiddling with his prosthetic eye, dejected. "Is it too late to ask you out now? Because I do like you a lot..."

"Since you put it so nicely...I can't really say no~" Your ears are bright red and you're twirling your hair. Is it truly happening? Are you dreaming? Everything feels snug and fuzzy and the butterflies are swarming your stomach. 

You don't have time to enjoy your romantic encounter, as Kazuya is now behind you, clearing his throat.

"Alright, you lovebirds, what about this one here, then?" 

You suddenly remember your coworker and an icy cold flashes through your body. 

"Oh God, how will I explain this at work? I'll get fired!" You bite your nails in terror. You can already visualize the slip of unemployment. The long lines at the Job Center, you and the homeless. Panic begins to build up. 

Until Daitou's large hands rest on your shoulders. He's unexpectedly warm. 

"Don't worry about it, (Y/N). I'll have a word with Boss, and we can get you a job here. This way we can spend more time together", he suggests with childish enthusiasm. 

You glance up at him, moved by his soothing words.

"I wouldn't want to bother you like that."

"Hey, it's my fault you ended up in this situation. You can leave everything to me." He reassures you proudly.

"That didn't answer my damn question." Kazuya points out, annoyed.

"Can't we just kill him or something? He did call me a stalker, and I'm still upset about that..."

Daitou stretches and sighs in boredom, pondering the options. Once he's decided on the outcome, he shoos you away lovingly. You don't need to see this part. 

Bonus: Daitou's backstory 

"Oh, right, how did it go with your tickets?"

Kazuya is walking beside you, hands in pockets. Every now and then he removes the cigarette from his mouth to tap away the piling ash.

"Well, I still have both kidneys, but I won't be swimming in cash for the next months at least." You respond, slouching your shoulders dramatically for the effect. 

"Flying abroad is always expensive. Unless, I don't know, you book years in advance."

"Yeah. I should've looked earlier, but I wasn't sure about my work schedule. At least I get to see my family and friends for Christmas." 

After a few more steps in silence, you glance up at the blonde man. He notices your curious stare and raises his eyebrows, as if encouraging you to speak up. 

"What about you? Will you be going home for the holidays?"

He grins at your question and proudly places a hand on his chest.

"This is my home, actually! I was born and raised in this very neighborhood."

"Really? Was it not a yakuza quarter before?" Your eyes widen at his statement. 

"It was." Kazuya blows some of his smoke in your direction and you cough lightly. "You know the soapland further down the street?"

You nod.

"Mom used to work there. One of the clients got her pregnant and she found out too late. She had a room upstairs, and I just kind of tagged along. The other girls looked after me, too."

You recall one instance when Kazuya received a phone call about some drunkard causing a ruckus at the brothel, and he shot up without a word, rushed out and returned with bloodied knuckles. At the time, you'd assumed he's a client himself and maybe got attached to one of the girls. Now it makes sense. You're a little embarrassed of your obvious prejudice. If he grew up there, it must be his way of showing gratitude to the workers who loved him despite the circumstances. 

"Oh, what about Daitou, then? Is he from the area, too?"

The man frowns and purses his lips thoughtfully. After a moment, his features soften up again and he sighs.

"I suppose you're his girlfriend, after all. It's also not a secret per se..."

Your ears perk up at the strange reaction to your inquiry. 

"I mean, it's just a bit of a grim topic. No one knows for sure. Boss found him on the streets years ago, when he was a wee kid." 

He presses his thumb and index finger together, emphasizing the small size to you. 

"I don't know all the details, just what the Seniors told me - I was a kid myself back then - but it was pretty bad. Had no shoes on, scratches and cuts all over. His left eye was swollen and terribly infected, that's how he lost it, actually. Boss felt sorry for him, so he took him in.

They did try to ask him for parents or relatives, but apparently he wouldn't speak at all. Took him like a year to finally open his mouth. Even now, if you ask him anything about his past, he just pretends he didn't hear you. So maybe don't bring it up to him."

You shake your head along, urging him to continue with more details. Kazuya seems to warm up to the memories and slows down, indulging in the recollection. 

"Anyways, one day Boss' car is followed and he gets shot in the shoulder. Some snot-nosed trainees from the rival gang. They hadn't even gotten their pins yet, wanted to impress their older brothers I guess.

Daitou heard about it and went after them. One of our Seniors - he's a tough guy alright, been with the Family for decades - he told me he was sweating like mad when they found him. Daitou was just a teen at the time, but he butchered those guys up so bad they couldn't tell them apart anymore. Even bit a few bullets, and still kept going, like a crazed animal. The adults were freaking out. They didn't expect him to be this strong.

I suspect they were pretty afraid of him, you know? They were probably thinking, "if one day he has it out for us, we're done for!", so they told Boss they should kick him out. But at this point Daitou was like his own son, so he laughed and said, "What's the matter with ya, he does your dirty work and you wanna get rid of him?! If the boy wants to fight, let him!", and he arranged for Daitou to join the Family officially. I was recruited around the same time.

We didn't get along at first, I mean, they warned me to stay away because he's crazy and also Boss' favorite. He didn't hang out with anyone. He had his own jobs, the mercenary stuff no one else wanted to deal with.

You might not believe it, but back then I was an angry, stubborn asshole. It didn't sit well with me that this guy was out there, doing his own thing. I had a reputation myself, before I dropped out of high school I was pretty much undefeated. I thought I'd see it with my own eyes, this all-powerful jackass even the Seniors avoided."

You smile faintly, trying to imagine a young Kazuya without the expensive, flashy suit and polished appearance.

"So one evening I just walked up to him and told him to join me outside. Didn't even give him a speech, just rammed my fist into his face. This was my signature move, you know, I can't even count how many guys I knocked out with this punch. Straight into the jaw, sends your brain spinning. Whew, and this guy? He didn't even flinch! Just stood there and looked at me like I was dumb. I was pissed off at this point, you can imagine, it felt like he was mocking me. So I yelled we ain't done until one of us gives up. 

He understood what I wanted and finally fought me earnestly. Hell, he even knocked some of my teeth out. This one here's an implant. Mad expensive. Anyhow, as much as it hurt my pride, I'd lost fair and square. So I got up, wiped the blood, and asked him to come grab a drink with me. My treat. 

You should've seen his face, (Y/N). I think it was the first time I've witnessed him smile. 'Really? Can I? Are you sure?' He was like a stray dog after you've thrown him some leftovers. Kept that dumb grin the whole night. You could've given him a clown hat and people would've paid to see the circus. 

That's when I realized this poor bastard probably just wanted a friend. The next day I went to pick him up again and he was beaming like a princess. Heh. Afterwards he started following me around and eventually Boss called me in. I thought I got into trouble or something, even brought a bunch of gauze pads in case I needed to slice off my finger. Turns out he'd heard of us becoming pals, and he asked me to maybe attend Daitou every now and then because he always leaves a mess and everyone's too scared to deal with him. We've been teamed together ever since."

You realize you've been standing in the same spot ever since Kazuya begun talking, completely entranced by his story. He chuckles upon seeing your expression and ruffles your hair. 

"Man, I sure rambled a lot. Sorry about that. In any case, that was my piece about Daitou. I'm sure you already know this, but he's not a bad guy. Just has a twisted sense of loyalty. Once he finds someone to serve, he doesn't see anything else.

Hell, I'm his closest friend and I'm convinced he wouldn't hesitate to kill me if it was for Boss."

Upon further consideration, he smiles and winks at you.

"Or for you. Especially you."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #female reader #yandere yakuza #yakuza x reader #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere original character #yandere mafia #mafia x reader #original work #oc x reader #male yandere x reader #x reader #yandere scenarios

[kichoukotori]

Several years ago I briefly worked in the warehouse of a nondescript extremely large e-commerce company. I had no other options for employment but desperately needed money. Turnover was like 150%. I worked from something like 7pm to 5am, my commute was 50 minutes each way and before I got paid I didn't even have the cash for enough gas to get home one night and had to bum $10 off of my kid sibling (this is all to give you an idea of my abysmal mental state while employed here.) You're not allowed to do anything besides your job, no music or anything and they track your movement on cameras so you can't even take a breather. The job is real monotonous, you get sent boxes of items of random sizes and you have to put the items into shelves of varying sizes and the shelves come to you, you don't walk to them. Because the company tracks the rate at which you put items on these shelves, many small items are desirable because you can put a lot of them in quickly. Everything about the place seems almost designed intentionally to break you mentally and turn you into a robot. So I'm about 6 or 7 hours into my shift, feeling on the verge of a mental collapse, and up comes a container with a bunch of small white boxes, bout half the size of a deck of cards. No labels. Great, I'm already happy about whatever these things are. So I go to scan them in, and it gives you the name of the item and a little picture. Sasuke Penis Costume. What? Sasuke Penis Costume. A picture of that red cloud robe from Naruto and one of the headbands with the metal plate on it. I'm thinking, there's no way. What is a penis costume? Am I hallucinating this? And there's so many of them, literally about a hundred, and I know I'm going to be spending at least an hour with Sasuke Penis Costume, there's so many and they're so small, I'm already excited about the potential efficiency of these, and then I see it's Sasuke Penis Costume? So the entire shift I'm like, trying to not put these things away too quick, because honestly I'm starting to build a kind of kinship with them. This is quite literally the most exciting thing to happen to me during my whole 2 week employment at the warehouse. I started to see Sasuke Penis Costume as a friend, some reminder of the outside world, a reminder of the humanity I was becoming so unfamiliar with, a reminder the world contained comedy, art, anime, and penis. I really couldn't tell you if I ended up putting all of them away, the last thing I remember is my desperate need to look these items up when I got home. I needed a link to send to my friends for when I told them this riveting story. I learned that the costume is called the Akatsuki cloak in my fervent search for the item, and wouldn't you know it, absolutely zero trace of these things exists online. Not on the e-commerce website, not on any specialized penis-costume websites (whose existence I was not privvy to prior to this incident) and no third-party retailer has these. Not even Google images will show me the hypothetical existence of Sasuke Penis Costume. Every few months I look it up, trying to find evidence that it can be bought, that any of this was ever real. My bond, my friendship, and dare I say even love for Sasuke Penis Costume feels as tangible as the boxes they came in, and yet the universe will give me no closure of their fate. Less and less frequently I search for them, each time becoming more and more discouraged that I will ever find them, but unlike their substance on this earth, one thing is inarguably certain. Sasuke Penis Costume exists to me, and it will live on firmly and resolutely within my memory and within my heart.

[inkskinned]

for the longest time my family used to host one of the biggest haunted houses on my block: elaborate, themed amateur haunts that pearled out along our lawn for one-night-only. spinning circus wheel-of-terrors and walkthrough alien crash-landings and spiders that arched over our driveway, leaking venom onto your feet.

we didn't have a lot of money; and honestly i don't know how we afforded what we did have. there were not going to be pneumatics or projectors or any supply over 20 dollars - and even 20 was a stretch. we were lucky, and we lived in a town that had a "swap shed", where people would drop off any banged-up-but-usable items that they wanted to get rid of. the whole year, my family would pick over someone else's discarded fans and lights and weird decorations, asking each other - what do you think? for halloween?

we would strip the motors out of rusted fans and spraypaint vases and saw broom handles in half and apply a very thick coat of cardboard and duct tape to everything. for our pirate year, i made the mistake of individually drawing woodgrain onto each strip of cardboard that made up the ship. i then gently painted and distressed the "boards" so they'd each have lichen and cracks and unusual patterns. i hid eyes in the knots and shaped skulls. you couldn't see any of it in the dark, even under our "spotlight" (someone's target-branded workshop flashlight).

i have a lot of very strange skills as a result. i know how to make a flying ghost appear both physically and in the mirror. i know how to make a witch's brew that stirs itself. i know how to burn and cut and paint until there is an iron throne you can sit on, or an alien brushing your ankles, or a hearse trundling along. i can't say we ever made it beyond our local newspapers, but we tried so hard that the town would regularly shut down our street.

i can't put any of these skills on a resume, and i haven't been able to put them to use for a while. i live in an apartment, there's no lawn for me to decorate. for years i've wanted to do an alice in wonderland theme, and have been collecting ideas like coins in a fountain. at other houses, i am transfixed by 12 foot skeletons and paper mache spooky lanterns; easily wooed by the knowledge of how much time people put in.

someone asked me once - so what was the point? and why didn't you guys charge anything to show up?

in truth, we probably needed the money. for years there, we were a 1-meal-a-day kind of a family. i was being polite earlier up in this essay: we furnished both our house and our halloweens using things left a recycling center. we live in new england and still didn't turn on the heat until the end of november, no matter how low the temperature.

every year we would collect donations for unicef and other charities. on an average year, we would collect enough to pay for our food for weeks. every year, without fail: we donated every penny.

this endeavor took months to plan and design and execute. we had to organize any volunteers and check safety and hope-for-the-best. it took at least 24 hours to set up, a week to take down. the motors and fans and lights all had to be packed tight. the cardboard would scatter, pangea in the rain and sleet. i remember picking up a plank from that pirate ship, the paint blown clear off, all my hard work completely erased. a new kind of driftwood.

if this was a poem, and not a memory, i could wrap this up prettily. i could say that these skills landed me a cool job in the haunting industry or that it taught me the value of friendship and responsibility. but i actually think it's something better, something very pretty: there wasn't ever a moral to it.

the night was a long one. yes, there were assholes, people who broke stuff. but mostly it was just kids like us in cardboard costumes, dressed as an incredibly niche kind of truck. good parents who were friendly and laughing. teenagers who slunk in at late hours, wide-eyed and secretly delighted; who asked us can i help next year? like, do y'all take volunteers, or whatever? every year more people came, and told their friends, and offered to pay. and every year we said maybe next year and meant absolutely never.

we did it because it was enough to love something, and to make that love visible. we did it because there is very rarely an excuse to have fun. i think maybe especially, for me - we did it because every year, there was one first "customer" somewhere around 3-4PM, while we were still putting on the final touches. the sun would still be up, and we were frazzled and always-running-late, and these kids saw our vision unfinished in the bright light of day.

something about their parents murmuring say thank you and telling my mom this setup is so sweet while this little kid would grin up at us, dazzled by our artistic mediocrity. the fall air and the chill and their coat-over-a-panda-princess-costume. that first phrase of the night awkwardly managed over a pair of overly-large vampire teeth: a beautiful and excited trick or treat!

#wholesome #happy halloween #writeblr #just something to maybe warm ur heart in these times #my parents also usually let me take nov 1st off #this is the first year in like 20 years im not taking it off bc it became like a family holiday #i regret not taking it off but alas. capitalism.

[ceilidho]

prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 2. (read part 1 here) tags: dubcon

-

There’s a photo of you taped up on the inside of his locker. 

The glimpse you catch of it is quick. Not like you aren’t meant to see it, but more like Johnny’s so unconcerned with whether you see it or not that he doesn’t bother to make a show of it. Just reaches into his locker to grab his lunch and shuts it while you’re still gaping at the polaroid of someone that looks suspiciously like you in your store uniform. You hear someone clear their throat and you glance up, flinching when you meet Johnny’s eyes.

“Missing me already?” he teases, winking. “I’ll be back on the floor as soon as possible. ‘Promise, hen.”

“It’s not—” 

He’s already out the door and on the way to the lunchroom before you’re able to get the rest of your sentence out. 

Johnny seems to have a sixth sense for when you’re about to spurn his advances. Any other day he would have stuck around to listen to the rest of your sentence, but when he has an inkling that those words will be tinged by the flavour of rejection, he’s quick to book it. You privately have to admit it’s not a terrible strategy. It’s not often that you’re able to get the words out. 

It’s one of those rare shifts where you’re clocking in later than Johnny, missing his lunch break. Small mercies. It doesn’t mean much because your schedules still overlap a significant amount, but it does mean that you won’t be forced to choke down your lunch while Johnny sits opposite you at the lunch table and stares you down the entire half hour. 

“Wait, that was so fucking cute,” someone says from behind you. You turn on your heel to find a coworker staring at Johnny’s locker, properly enchanted by whatever she saw. Practically swooning. 

“What is?”

“Didn’t you see the picture he has of you? In his locker?” She says it with emphasis, giving you a significant look. 

“Yeah…I…don’t you think it’s a bit…like, weird?” you ask her, making sure to keep your voice low in case Johnny is still around the corner. You can’t help the way you glance down the hallway.

She frowns. “It’s cute. He’s like, smitten with you. I’ve never seen him with a crush on anyone before and I’ve worked with him for over a year. I think it’s kind of nice. Do you not like him or something?”

“Well, I just…we aren’t even dating and I think…I think he even has a photo of me as his lock screen—”

“Because if you aren’t interested in him, you should let him down now. It’s not fair of you to just string him along, you know. He’s a really good guy.”

You’re not sure about the whole good guy thing. Johnny acts like a nice guy most of the time, but you’ve had the unfortunate luck in getting to experience the other side of him.

The problem lies in the fact that Johnny is, you think, a genuinely likeable guy to everyone else. It’s not like your coworkers are all collectively wrong in their opinion of him—he really is an excellent coworker. A good sport, a funny guy; he lends a hand whenever someone needs help. He helped Jeff move two weeks ago, drove Daryl to the airport last Saturday, and looked after Sonya’s cat while she was away on vacation that one time. 

It’s with you that his good-time nature evaporates; his lazy, drawled predilection for joking around and indulging himself and others in a good ribbing replaced by a weird, manufactured kindness. Almost sickly sweet. He lays it on so thick around others that they think you experience the same friendship with Johnny that the rest of them get to enjoy. 

Not so.

None of them catch the way he’s always hovering, always staring at you. Eyes half-lidded; bedroom eyes in the middle of your shift, in the middle of the workplace. 

None of your coworkers are around when you’re at the register one day and Johnny takes his break to make a couple purchases, coming to your cash with a basket full of chocolate, wine, condoms, body butter, and batteries. No one except him notices the way you pause at the last item.

“Dinnae ken if your vibrator was rechargeable or not,” he says when you look at him funny, a big grin stretched across his face. Blue eyes gleaming almost feverishly. “Thought I’d be prepared either way.”

You scan his items in silence. When you hand him his bag, you try not to shudder when he purposefully glances his hand over yours. 

Worse are the days when Johnny comes in as a customer, the days when he’s off the schedule. When he shouldn’t even be at the store at all. No one notices the way he pesters you the entire time he’s in the store, insisting on you helping him with his purchases. If a coworker does happen to notice his presence (and how could they not when he’s such a formidable presence in any room, when he almost glows from the energy stockpiled in his body with nowhere else to go), he’ll make polite conversation, just long enough to not seem rude, before shifting his attention back to you. 

His conversation borders on interrogation. He asks you about your childhood and your friends and whether you have a partner or any previous partners. He makes you follow him to the bed section where he tries out all the mattresses and then asks you increasingly inappropriate questions like what mattress you have, what it feels like, how you sleep at night, what you wear to bed. 

When you rebuff him one too many times, he’s not shy about telling you off. 

“Ye just need a good fuck ta sort ye out,” Johnny snarls when you brush off another invite out to lunch one day. It’s not often that he loses his temper with you, so his anger makes your eyes widen, your pulse pick up. During morning shift assignments, he’d corralled your manager into pairing the two of you up on curbside pick-up orders, meaning that you’ve been stuck with him for hours, nowhere else to go. 

“Excuse me?” you say, voice going up a decibel. 

He leans across the front of the cart loaded with flowerpots and gardening tools. “I get it, hen. No one at home ta play with your pussy, huh? No choice but ta come into work all pent up and frustrated—”

“This is in like, the outer Hebrides of ‘none of your business’—”

“—clit’s probably all swollen too. Fuck.” He breathes out heavily through his nose, eyes darkening. “No wonder you’re always pissed off. I’d be too if I dinnae have a little replacement pussy at home.”

“You’re the reason I’m upset in the first place, Johnny.”

“Aw, I ken, bonnie,” he says with a pout, eyebrows slanting down like he really, truly pities you, the gesture immediately contradicted by his next words. “Promise I’ll make it better. Wanna meet outside my truck in a half hour?” 

You storm off before it comes to blows. Not that it’d ever be a fair fight. Johnny would probably hold you away with his palm against your head while you swung at him uselessly. You try not to think of that too often. Of him toying with you. Most of your interactions feel like that these days. Like he’s a big cat holding your tail down when you try to scramble away. 

When you beg your manager to switch shift assignments, the look you get could wilt flowers. It’s not completely your fault, even if your request is a bit inconveniencing. Johnny has your coworkers and management so wrapped around his finger that no one can even hazard a guess as to why you might be uncomfortable around him. 

It’s the only reason you haven’t complained to HR yet. There are channels and protocols for dealing with his behaviour, but watching people practically trip over themselves to please him reminds you that the likeliest outcome would be them transferring you to another store. It just doesn’t seem worth it.

You don’t think about how frazzled his words leave you for the rest of your shift. You don’t think about it because there’s nothing to think about. 

You know from the second that your manager reassigns you to women’s apparel that you’ve probably made a mistake. Customers buzz around you like gnats, like swarms of flies, and it’s only natural that you’d be compelled to swat a few. You hold on to the fraying edges of your patience with little finesse. About halfway through your shift, you get a stern talking to from your floor supervisor and put on an extra long break. You’re no less irritated when you get back though, somehow still agitated and snappy. 

Big hands clamp over your shoulders and squeeze like he’s giving you a massage, thumbs digging into the grooves of your upper back. He ignores the way you tense up.

“Hen, you’re making the customers uncomfortable with all your huffin’ and puffin’,” he whispers into your ear, a light chuckle falling out with his words. Amused by your attitude this time instead of ticked off. “If ye want, I could take ye ta the back room ta loosen ye up a bit. Make your day a little better. Dinnae think anybody will even notice if we dip away for a bit—’sides management will probably send me a gift basket if ye come back perky after a good shag.”

You shrug him off to go clock out, ignoring the way he chuckles as you storm off. No one knows if you go home and wear out the battery in your vibrator while thinking about Johnny’s words. Thinking about Johnny guiding you to his truck with a palm flat on your low back, pinkie teasing just under the waistband of your pants, before laying you out across the backseat and climbing on top of you.

You come when you think about how he’d have to keep the door open to fuck you in his car.

Unfortunately, you’re more than familiar with his sweet side as well. 

On your birthday, he comes in early with a sheet cake and organizes the employees so that the breakroom is dark when you come in. The entire staff is there when you switch on the lights, shouting your name and happy birthday, decked out in party hats and blowing into noisemakers.

It catches you off guard. Hits you right in the solar plexus and leaves you winded. You stand in the middle of the room like you’re under a spotlight and that spotlight is Johnny’s stare burning a hole in your head. For once, it doesn’t rankle. It leaves you feeling light, feathery, like floating down to earth. A coworker hands you a noisemaker and you smile until your eyes crinkle when you blow into it. 

You’re in a good enough mood that you don’t argue when he insists on sitting beside you. He got you the cake after all. Maybe it’s the least he deserves. Your goodwill lasts until Johnny tries to feed you a piece of cake with his fork; he winds up getting cake smushed all over your cheek when you turn your head away. 

“Johnny, ‘m not a baby,” you complain, wrinkling your nose when cake and icing slide down your face. “I can feed myself. This is so gross.”

“Shucks, hen, lemme get that. Shouldnae have turned your head,” Johnny curses, leaning over to scoop it off with his fingers. He holds them out to you, an offering. “Here ye go, kitty.”

You stare, horrified, until he shrugs like ‘suit yourself’ and pops them into his own mouth. Then drags the same spit covered fingers over your cheek again to keep cleaning you up. 

You can tell that it’s hopeless to complain by the way your coworkers giggle and gossip, eyes drawn to the two of you. Maybe it would be better if you were transferred. You only have so many ‘I’m not his work wife’s left in you. Something’s bound to give. You have a sneaking suspicion that it’s going to be you. 

On the walk to your car after your shift, which Johnny insists on doing like he does every time the two of you work a closing shift together, he jokingly asks if you’ve gotten your birthday spanks. He says it in that same awkward joking tone, just a bit too excited, staring at you too eagerly. Unblinking. Tuts his tongue when you tell him you’ve never heard of that before. 

You jolt and squeak at the pop on your ass when he insists on opening the door to your car and helping you in. The betrayed look you shoot him hardly penetrates through his shit-eating grin. 

“See ye tomorrow, kitty,” Johnny calls out, walking backwards away from you to where his truck is parked just a few spots away from yours. You think he would’ve parked right next to you if you hadn’t chosen a spot conveniently between two other cars. “More where that came from.”

Your hands shake against the steering wheel your whole drive home. Dreading tomorrow’s shift.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap x you #soap/reader #ikea soap #soap cod #john mactavish #x reader

[a-hazbin-reader]

Hi there! I love all your work and I saw wife!reader and alastor getting married when they were alive and wanted to know how they met or who fell in love first.

You don't have to do this though, have a lovely day! ❤️

I really love this...I won't do how they met because I want people to be able to decide that for themselves but..

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Reader goes on a date, Implied Murder, Alastor being jealous, Suggestive

Description: ☝️⬆️

You are most likely the one who falls first, not that anybody could blame you, Alastor is F I N E

He's a well sought after man with his good looks, charming conversation skills and various other talents

So it makes sense that when you meet him and get to know him a little more, you're smitten with the radio host

But you're well aware that the chances of becoming an item with Alastor are slim to none

He's never once showed an interest in being in a relationship and visibly tenses when someone flirts with him

So you resolve yourself to try and get over this little crush and keep your friendship with him intact

If you were being honest with yourself, then it's more than just a crush, you're head over heels in love with him

You two do become fast friends though, something always drawing the two of you close, a sort of magnetic pull

You're practically the best of friends, always together, inside jokes, judging people together

A dozen almost kisses, romantically charged interactions, almost sexually charged drunken escapades

You even bring him food when he's at work so that he doesn't forget to eat and take care of himself

He sets aside time to take you to different restaurants, clubs, parks, anywhere that might be enjoyable

People are quick to assume you two are a couple, but you're always quicker to correct them

It's the truth but it sort of bothers him

He can't deny that you're great company, or that you're beautiful, or that he hates it when you're not smiling

Or that he has a great...fondness for you and your little quirks/talents

He's very attached to you to say the least, you're an important person in his life

That's what he tells people anyways

He doesn't even realize that he's in love with you until you're suddenly gushing about meeting someone new

You look so hopeful, so excited that some guy asked you out but the idea of you on a date makes his skin crawl

But you're only so hopeful and excited because you think maybe this guy will help you get over your feelings for Alastor?

He's a very sweet man, cute, funny, a little touchy-feely but nothing you can't handle

You don't notice the way Alastor's smile twitches ever so slightly whenever you bring up your date

Or his sour tone and the way he tries to discourage you from going

"Y/N, do you even like him? Can you picture yourself having a future with him?"

"That's why I'm going on a date with him, besides... he's very sweet to me!"

Another eye twitch and a sound that's almost like a snarl, Alastor is sweet to you, this guy isn't special

Okay, you notice but you assume he's just being protective

Alastor doesn't even realize his thunderous expression until your soft hand grips his chin, forcing him to lock eyes with you

"Alastor, I'll be fine. I'm a big girl and I can handle myself, you don't need to worry about me.."

Even though you want him to worry about you, you want him to beg you not to go, to tell you that he-

But he won't

His attitude only gets worse once he actually sees the guy who asked you out on a date

Oh no he's hot

If Alastor knew the word, then he would surely call him a himbo but he doesn't know that word, so he just calls him "Next."

Watching you interact with him was something that was truly sickening, seeing someone so clearly enamored with you

And you're enjoying the attention, Alastor gives you attention, he compliments you and takes you to fun places

Just never with obvious romantic intentions before...

Your date kisses your hand and Alastor wants to scrub it clean for you, Alastor can kiss you-

Kissing you wouldn't be so bad...or possibly more...

What was all that sickeningly sweet stuff you used to talk about couples doing together? Dates, cuddling, sex? He could do that, with you that is-

It's a little hot under his collar all of a sudden

It's not like Alastor hasn't already been practically taking you out on dates, courting you

Everyone already thinks you two are a couple anyways

Fuck he's in love with you and he's probably already missed his chance

He wrestles with himself over the sudden revelation all the days leading up to your date

It's not until you come out looking like the most heavenly creature on earth that Alastor realizes you're actually going on a date

"You... you're really going to go out with him? You can do so much better, Y/N."

He doesn't miss the frustrated look on your face and the way you hug yourself

"Well, he's the only one who's taken an interest in me, Al."

"And if someone else asked you?"

He's cautious with his words, already formulating a plan in his head based off of your reaction

"...there's only one person who I want to take notice of me."

Oh he's stealing you away now

He stands up and slaps his hands on your arms, giving you a charming smile as he leans in

Your body instinctively reacts, and you lean in to meet him halfway, your lips drawn to his-

"Make sure you guys tune into my show later tonight, okay? I'll have something special whipped up for your date!"

He hugs you and leaves you feeling more conflicted than ever, the feeling doesn't leave even after Alastor sees you off for your date

Your lips still tingle from that almost kiss

Your date is absolutely ruined, Alastor having completely taken over your thoughts with his strange behavior

Not that he didn't always take over your thoughts already

But you can hardly focus on your date, who's very sweet, very dumb and a little too touchy for your tastes

You end the date early, already knowing there's no shaking off your love for your best friend

You'll just long for Alastor for the rest of yours days...

Then you remember he asked you to tune into his radio show! Without even realizing it, your feet have taken you to his radio tower

You can hear him in there, getting ready for his show, you grab the handle and press your ear to the door

"Good evening, folks! I would like to dedicate this special song to the love of my life! My soulmate, Y/N!"

You feel your body freeze as a familiar song fills your ears, a song that was special only to you and Alastor

It's the closest thing to a confession that you'll probably ever get from him-

You'll take it

When you open the door to the broadcast booth you can tell he's surprised to see you there

"I thought you would at least be letting him drive you home by now..."

He's nervous but clearly trying to hide it, making his way towards you slowly

"I just wanted to be here with you..."

His arms are sliding around your waist, the nervousness he had before melting away into a smug grin

He's so fucking handsome

"You missed me so much that you ditched you date~?"

Your fingers are tangling in his hair as you pull him in closer, lips nearly touching as the emotions between you two threaten to burst

"And you just dedicated an entire love song to me on air to steal me away from my date."

His warm breath hits your face as he chuckles, bypassing your waiting lips to kiss your ear softly instead

"What can I say, my dear? I'm a fool when it comes to love~"

His voice nearly makes your knees buckle, but Alastor easily holds you up, pushing you up against the door while giving you a bruising kiss

For someone who's never really taken an interest in relationships, he's a really talented fucking kisser

I really hope you like this one! I had so much fun with it!

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

[glassartpeasants]

How to Love

Eustass Kid/Trafalgar Law x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, semi-slow burn?, beginnings to chapters are hard </3

A/N: yeah here we are. just wanted to set a light on what the base plan is. Also, this takes place RIGHT after the prologue ends. hopefully, it's good for a first chapter.

~~~

Your heart beats harshly against your ribs as the events of only moments ago replay in your mind like a broken record. The images of the two most significant people in your world, your boyfriend and your best friend, betraying you, makes your head spin. It almost feels unreal, like a nightmare instead of reality.

But it wasn’t a dream. It was a harsh reality, a stark contrast to the life you thought you were living.

Instead of waking up next to your boyfriend, you find yourself in a disorienting place: your ex-best friend's ex-boyfriend's car. Random items you managed to grab scattered across the passenger side and on your lap. The smell of Eustass’s cologne, a scent that used to bring comfort, now only added to your heartbreak, still plaguing your nose.

“Thank you, Law. You really didn’t have to.” Despite being almost inaudible, Law still heard you like you were screaming. The tremble in your voice notifies him of his own inability to speak without breaking down.

“It’s fine. Thank you for telling me about (.....)-ya’s infidelity.” The fact you even told him in the first place shocked him. You had known (.....) for years, and she was your best friend, while you only had a class project with him. Given that it was a whole semester-long, you were willing to throw away a friendship just like that. 

“You're a good guy, Law. You don’t deserve to be cheated on. Whether we’re friends or strangers. I would have told you regardless. No one deserves such heartbreak.” Law can see tears slipping down your cheeks out of the corner of his eyes. The fact that you're trying to stay strong after being the one to discover the affair is admirable in a sense. It could also be that you didn’t want him to see you cry. The latter sounds more plausible.

“I'm glad I didn’t delete your number. It would have been awkward if I had tried to catch you at work.” A small, sad chuckle left your lips. The tension in the car was too much, and you needed something to keep your mind distracted so you didn’t start wailing in front of Law.

“That would have been a scene I’m grateful we avoided. I like to keep my private life and work life separate.” 

“I’m the same in a sense. I don’t tell my co-workers much except to recommend shows or movies. I know you're more of a book guy, but have you seen any shows or movies recently?”

“(.....)-ya made me watch a movie the other day. It was a horror movie.”

“Oh. Was it good?”

“No, it was terrible.” You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at Law's cold tone.

“Bad effects, or was it a storyline issue?”

“I could’ve made a better movie with a budget of two dollars.” Even though tears still fall from your eyes against your wishes, Law manages to make you laugh to ease the pain.

“Well, have you read any good books recently?”

“Haven’t had the time.” Law’s admission made your eyes furrow together. You know the medical field could be rough, but there wasn't enough time for him to read?

"The bookworm hasn't read recently? Are you sure you're the real Law?" A small smile tugs at the corner of Law’s lips as he listens to you talk, but even he can only hide the effects of heartbreak for so long.

Whether Law knew it or not, you could see tiny droplets of water gather in his eyes. Seeing him trying to hold it together made it just a bit harder to prevent yourself from breaking down. You grip the seat of his car and try to regulate your breathing. Clenching your teeth together,  you lay your head on the window and look outside. The sudden tap of water hitting the glass makes you jump. You look around and watch as more water droplets start hitting the car. 

“It’s raining. I thought it was supposed to be sunny all day?”

“I thought so, too.” The thick, tense silence rose once again, making it hard to breathe. If there had been enough room, you would have curled yourself up in a ball and cried. But you could do that when you get to...

“Where are we going?”

“My apartment. Just for now.”

“Ah, okay. Do you have any alcohol at your place?”

“Maybe some (.....)-ya left. Why?”

“So we can drink away our sadness.”

“I’m not much of a drinker.” A second silence covers the car.

“So I can drink away our sadness.”

“We’ll see when we get there.”

~~~

Your feet feel heavy as you walk into Law’s apartment. It’s been a while since you’ve been inside it. After the project was finished, you stopped coming over. Law’s busy schedule and your own just didn’t mix. Sometimes, you’d text him to check up on him and ask him how he was doing. He’d take hours or a day to respond, but you never held it against him. He always answered before it had been 48 hours, so it was okay with you.

Looking around his apartment, you see things that hadn’t been there before: some plants, many pictures on the wall, a TV, and some knickknacks you recognize that belong to (.....). The atmosphere was more welcoming than when you first visited Law’s apartment. If an apartment could feel like a hospital waiting room, then that’d be Law’s place before (.....) put her touch on it.

Placing your things near the couch, you take a deep breath as you rub your sternum to try and soothe the pain in your chest. All the pictures of Law and (.....) smiling happily nailed to the walls made your throat go dry. The images of your own apartment clouded your vision as you remembered your own photos with Eustass. Pictures of times when you did matching Halloween costumes, went to concerts together, relaxed at a beach together, or the two of you would just stay home. Every picture held a memory. 

A once cherished memory is now tainted by the image of betrayal. No amount of effort can make that image disappear. Even your happiest memories become blurry when you hear (.....) calling out Eustass's name. It ignites a fiery rage inside you, and seeing (.....)'s face everywhere makes you clench your teeth. You feel like tearing apart every picture of Law and (.....) just to remove her face from your sight. Every bone in your body screams at you to lose control. To destroy everything that reminds you of Eustass and (.....) until it is nothing but microscopic pieces.

But you weren’t home. The home you once had was now lost to time. For now, your ‘home’ depends on whether Law will allow you to stay the night for tonight.

“You can stay the night on the couch for tonight if you want. I have blankets in the closet over there.” You let out an internal breath of relief from Law, answering your question without being asked.

“Thank you, Law. Can I make you dinner or something? Just so I can repay your kindness?” You watch Law lean against the kitchen counter before crossing his arms. His eyes staring out into space.

“I haven’t gone shopping yet this week, so I don’t have much.”

“I’m sure I can craft up something.”

“If you want, then go ahead.” The sound of a ringtone brings a silence to the both of you. You check your phone and see the screen’s black.

“I think it’s yours.” Pulling out his phone from his pocket, you watch Law look at the screen. A frown crosses his face immediately, letting you know the caller. Letting out a heavy sigh, you watch him answer the phone.

“What do you want (.....)-ya?” While you couldn’t understand what she was saying, the tone of her voice was frantic. You could hear sobs coming from the other line. Hearing them pissed you off to hell and back. Didn’t (.....) have a shred of decency? How dare she plead and beg after she committed such an act?

You had to sit on the couch to calm yourself down just so you wouldn’t start screaming at (.....) through the phone. As soon as your body relaxed on the couch, a wave of soreness came over you. It feels as if you’ve been working out for hours on end and only now stopped. Even your eyelids felt heavy as you feel tears starting to form and blur your vision. Trying to breathe normally falls short as you begin to hyperventilate. Your lungs burn as you can feel your throat constricting. It feels like you're swallowing your heart just to keep yourself quiet.

“I meant what I said (.....)-ya. I’m breaking up with you, and that’s final. You can come get your things tomorrow afternoon.” Hearing Law’s voice helped soothe a part of your aching soul. Hearing something other than your own ragged breathing helped calm down the streams of tears that were flowing down your face.

“I’m done talking with you (.....)-ya. Goodbye.” The sound of Law’s calls ending made you rub your face, trying to hide the tears that plagued you seconds ago.

“Your more civil than I would have been. I probably wouldn’t have even picked up her call.” Your voice cracked as you tried to let out a small laugh.

“She was asking me for a ride. Apparently, her and Eustass got in a fight, and he threw her out in the rain.” Scoffing in disbelief, you turn your head to look at Law, hoping he wouldn’t notice your puffy eyes.

“She asked you for a ride after cheating on you? Serves her right, getting thrown in the rain. Hope she gets a cold.” You can see Law’s body tremble and how he bites his lip. His eyes get glassy as he looks at the ceiling.

“Fucking a man.” Even from across the room, you can hear Law whispering to himself. You hated seeing him like this. Watching someone you care about hurt only adds to the pain you feel.

“Hey…do you wanna watch something to get our minds off them?”

“I should go back to work. They probably need me.” You let out a hum, hearing his words. A slight feeling of rejection crosses your mind, but you're quick to shake it off. The last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable. And if he was the type to work away his feelings, who were you to stop him?

“Well, drive safe. It sounds like the rain is hitting harder.” The sound of rain beating against the windows of Law’s apartment was finally acknowledged. Its beat almost matched Law’s own heartbeat as he thought about the phone call only minutes ago.

Hearing (.....)’s voice felt like nails on a chalkboard as she tried to explain what happened. The voice that once calmed his aching heart was now the reason it hurt. It was astonishing how fast his whole world flipped upside down. Earlier today, he couldn’t wait to come home and see (.....) and have her talk to him about her day. But now, instead of (.....) smiling at him, you were sitting on his couch with puffy eyes.

The way he could hear the tremble in your voice and how the light shined against the path of tears left on your face made his own wave of emotions try to surface. Even if he could tell you were trying hard to hold them back, he could see tears collect against your eyelashes. The sight had tears accumulating in his own eyes, making him look up at the ceiling to try and stop them. He didn’t need to show how bad (.....)’s betrayal has affected him. At least not in front of you.

Sure, you guys were going through the same thing together, but it wouldn’t help him or you if he let his own emotions out. It’d just be easier to shove them down, ignore them, and work until the pain left. He’s done it before, so he can do it again. 

“Um, Law?” Looking back down, he sees you standing in front of him. You refuse to meet his eyes as you fiddle with the bottom of your shirt.

“Yeah?”

“Can I hug you?” Law felt his heart skip a beat hearing your request. A part of him told himself no that he’d break down the moment you wrapped your arms around him. Yet, the voice of someone he used to know told him something different.

“Okay.” As soon as the words left his lips, he felt your body smushed up against his. Your arms held him in a tight embrace as the sound of your hushed sniffles made Law finally cave. Wrapping his own arms around you, a sense of comfort filled him. The feeling of being cared for once again was nice yet terrifying. As soon as the feeling would come, it’d leave just as fast.

But for now, he’ll indulge in your hold.

~~~

The blanket that wrapped around you did little to replicate Law’s hug. Sure, you were warm, but it wasn’t the same. It reminded you of how alone you were. You had no family in this city, and your only friends were (.....) and Law, but you wouldn’t count him as an option due to the current predicament. It felt like you were running in circles with every idea that popped into your head. Always leading to a dead end and making you start all over again.

You couldn’t go back home. It’d take you around three to four hours to drive there! Plus, you didn’t leave on a good note with your parents when you left for college. And if their last words to you were anything to go by, they didn’t want you back. You shake your head at the thought of your parents.

“No. No need to drag myself down even more thinking about them.” Slithering your hand out of your blanket cocoon, you grab your phone that was on your right. The black screen stared at you as it showed your reflection. Eyes red from tears earlier and a cut lip from biting on it so hard earlier.

A ding echoes across the empty apartment as the phone's black screen soon turns on. The quick flash makes your eyes burn before squinting to try and get used to the brightness. Once adjusted, you see a message from Law hiding in your notification bar.

-“I need a favor from you.”

-“Sure, what ya need?”

-“(.....)-ya is supposed to be getting her things this morning. I want you to make sure she takes everything and leaves her key in the dish by the door.”

A frown skims across your face as the thought of seeing (.....)’s face makes your stomach churn. It’s only been a day, and you're already forced to see her face? At the same time, Law did allow you to stay the night last night. So, despite your distaste for seeing (.....), you agreed.

-“Will do. Can count on me :)”

-“Thanks.”

-“How’s working going so far?”

-“Fine.”

-“That's good”

The urge to ask him what his plans were with you after you did him this favor ate at your conscience as soon as you sent that last text. Law was really the only one whose place you felt safe enough to sleep at. And he’s the only person you have in the entire city. You didn’t have a license since a lot of things were always within walking distance, so you never had a reason to. 

But now, you were on the complete other side of the city. What used to be a five-minute walk to your job now would take at least thirty minutes. You had no idea where anything was on this side of the city. Sure, you and Law would go grab an energy drink from the gas station when the two of you worked the night away on that old project, but that was two years ago. Who knows? Maybe that gas station doesn’t even exist anymore!

“Do you go here a lot?”

“To buy an energy drink and coffee every now and then.” The sound of small pebbles crunching under your and Law’s shoes goes unnoticed as you walk next to him.

“Okay, so every day then?” A laugh escapes your lips as Law rolls his eyes, yet a small smile plays against his lips.

“This gas station is the only place that sells my favorite one.”

“Which is?”

“Can’t tell you. What if you take it?” A smirk appears on his lips as he puts his hands in his pockets. Scoffing, you place your hand on your chest in fake offense.

“I can’t believe you’d think so lowly of me. Stealing your beloved drink? Only a monster could be so heartless!” Hearing Law let out a chuckle from your words made a heavy feeling of confidence run through your veins. He was always relatively quiet when in class, so it was nice to see him show emotion other than ‘bored.’

“How much farther? I’m dying to know the favorite drink of the future best doctor in the world.” A faint pink tints Law’s skin as he tries to look away from you, hoping you don’t see what your comment did to him.

“You really think so?” Despite trying to copy your playful tone, you can hear his self-doubt and hopefulness that your words were true.

“I know so! No one works harder than you! If anyone says otherwise, tell me and I’ll kick their ass.” Law could feel his palms grow sweaty, and his heart beat a little faster. 

Sure, he’s gotten praise from his teacher, but hearing it come from someone he had just met and barely knew felt a little more sincere? Why, he didn’t know, but he won’t complain.

“Will do.”

KNOCK KNOCK

The sound of light knowing pulls you from your memories. Looking up at the clock, you see it’s nearly three pm. You sigh as you shed the multiple layers of blankets you were snuggled in. The rage and anger from yesterday are still strong in your system, making you clench your fists. You walk towards the door when you hear your fingers popping from the sheer force. Unlocking it, you take a deep breath before fully opening it.

In front of you stood a very unkempt (.....). Her hair was in a messy ponytail, accompanied by red eyes and a red face. Makeup from the night before was still applied to her skin as mascara streaked down her face. Your eyes even caught the barely covered hickeys and bite marks that shined through her concealer.

“(Y-Y/N)?...Why are you…Where’s Law?” Her pitiful voice made you squeeze the doorknob tighter to try and calm yourself.

“He’s at work. Not that it’s any of your business, but he was kind enough to let me spend the night.” Your eyes narrowed at her as you couldn’t help but glare daggers at the marks on her neck. Noticing your stare, (.....) moved her shoulder to cover her neck.

“I see…” You move to let her in and shut the door behind her. She lets out a shaky breath before beginning to take down the multiple pictures hanging along the wall. The sound of sniffles hits your ears as you watch her grab the frames with shaky hands. Listening to her hold back tears made you struggle to hold your own.

How could she have done this? Years of friendship only to throw it away for some dick? Did you mean so little to her? You’ve been with her for everything! Breakups, grandparents passing, getting in trouble together, anything and everything you’ve done for her! If she needed a kidney transplant, you would’ve volunteered right away!

Now, seeing how a friendship can easily be thrown away like trash after years made bitterness fill your heart. If your best friend and boyfriend could betray you without so much of a second thought, what does that say about the strangers all around you?

What does that say about you? Did you do something to deserve this? Was (.....) mad at you and thought fucking your lover would get back at you? There had to be a reason. To be an explanation for the horror you saw yesterday. Maybe after a drink or two after (.....) leaves will calm you down.

~~~

“You got everything?”

“Yeah.” Just as she was about to walk out the door, you remembered that she still hadn't given you the key.

“I need the apartment key.” Putting your hand out, you move your eyes to your hand and back at her.

“I-I don’t have it.” Furrowing your brows, you sigh.

“Don’t bullshit me. I’ve known you for years, and I know when you lie. Now give me the goddamn keys (.....).” You watch (.....) bite her lip before digging into her jacket pocket. The light shined off the key as she gently put it in your hands.

“Can you say goodbye to Bepo for me?” Confusion hit you like a train at her request.

“What the hell are-you know what? Fine. I’ll say bye.”

“Thanks.” Closing the door, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. After locking the door behind her, you placed her old key in the dish Law has near the door for his keys. (.....) request puzzled you as you tried to think of what she was talking about.

“What the hell is a Bepo?”

Just then, a light pitter-patter echos in the apartment. Your heart stops as the sound gets closer. There shouldn’t be anyone else in the apartment but you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you try to move quietly towards the kitchen to grab something to defend yourself.

“Meow!” You stop in your tracks upon hearing that noise. Embarrassment floods your body as you move even closer to the noise. Upon turning the corner, you see a white cat walking in your direction. A big white cat.

“Can’t believe I got spooked by a damn cat. Didn’t even know Law had a cat…a fatass one nonetheless.” Bending down, you move your hand to let the cat smell you. A smile appears on your face when it rubs against you.

“Hmm? What’s this?” Moving the fluff from his neck, you see a collar with a tag. Squinting your eyes, you finally see the name engraved on the tag.

“Ohhh…your Bepo! Well, aren’t you a cutie-pie?” With (.....) 's request finally making sense, you fight to actually fulfill it. With a sigh, you pick up Bepo and hold him gently. 

“Let’s send your dad a selfie. I think he’ll appreciate it.” You go to the couch, pick up your phone, and find the right angle for the picture. When you find the right spot, you smile as Bepo rubs his head against your face.

“Say cheese!”

~~~

It’d been a long day at the hospital. It felt like nothing went right. Sure, he put in his all, but he had to tell people how they were diagnosed with a terminal illness or dealing with dumb co-workers. The only good thing today did for him was keep (.....) out of his head. But now that work was over, the nagging thoughts could finally bother him once more.

Sighing as he unlocked his apartment door, he was immediately hit with the smell of something cooking. Whatever it was, it smelled good, and he was happy that he didn’t have to make anything tonight. When he went to put his keys in the dish designated for them, he saw (.....)’s key lying in the middle. A wave of relief washed over him as he finished taking off his shoes and coat.

“Oh, Law, are you home?” Your voice rings in his ears as he walks further into his apartment. He spots you setting up the table while humming to yourself.

“Yeah, I’m back. Did you make something?”

“Well, you’ve been at work for sixteen hours, so obviously, you should be hungry! Not to mention that you deserved a home-cooked meal after working so hard.” Moving closer to the dinner table, he sees a plate of grilled fish along with a can of what looks to be sparkling water. The smell of his favorite food drew him closer, and he felt a sense of calm filled him. It’d be the second night in a row you made him dinner.

“Where did you get the fish? I don’t remember having any?”

“Oh, after (.....) took her stuff and left, I used GPS to find a store nearby, and there was an organic type of food store only two blocks away! So I went shopping and got things! Except for beverages, so I stopped by the gas station we used to go to and got sparkling water 'cause you don’t drink and no way you’d drink an energy boost at eight pm.” You continued talking, but it was lost on Law’s ears as he stared at the set-up table. The fact you put yourself to go grocery shopping and making him dinner made his sour mood from only moments ago lighten.

“Thank you.” As he moves to wash his hands in the sink, he sees his beloved cat following you and purring.

“I see you’ve met Bepo.” Upon speaking, the cat changed his attention to Law. Bepo begins to meow as he prances towards Law’s feet before rubbing against them. Leaning down, Law gives him a few pets before washing his hands.

“I didn’t even know you had a cat. Did you just get him?”

“No. I’ve had him for almost a year and a half. Why?” He watches you lift your eyebrows and look at Bepo before looking back at Law.

“What?”

“Law. Do you see how big that cat is?” Despite just washing his hands, Law picks up Bepo and holds him in his arms.

“What about it? He’s growing.”

“That cat is obese. He needs a diet.”

“Bepo is perfect the way he is.” You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched him hold Bepo protectively and away from you.

“You can be delusional all you want, but come eat before the food gets cold.” Turning your back, you begin to dish up after washing your hands. You can hear Law rewashing his own before sitting on the opposite side of the table.

As awkward as it may be, the presence of one another brings a slight calm to your new chaotic world.

~~~

TAGLIST: @yuki190 @stachelrose @loraleiii @axcel-lucci @st4rfevrr @rexspersonalhell @nanapurinpurin @elen-alambil @starlightkitten19 @bby-deerling @queenofthekill @chaes-tea @emmaiscool22 @shuujin @augustanna @likeliterallywtf @iraaiitz @cherrybomb5000 @lavenderkaye106 @jabean @wrennyx @jamaicaa-blakee @ashortdork @kat2tired @nerdgeekandeverysweet-blog @getsue @kaptain-rebekah @reigenmagnet @rebeccawinters @keenzinemugstudent @mydearlybeloathed @firefistussy @throne-inmyside @littleleelee @thepurpleempath @yuji4lierrr @whodissbitj @slut-for-buck i hope i got everyone and if i didn't im sorry. I tried writing everyone's names

#one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #law x reader

[danse--macabre]

unpopular astarion headcanons r.e. mirrors and reflections:

while I love the memes around this, I don't think, unless you had a particularly charismatic tav/durge, the whole party would draw him / contribute to some kind of spell where he could see his reflection. Obviously there's room for difference given how many routes your playthrough can take, but generally: he's not universally loved in the same way Karlach is, he's not the heart of the party, he's mostly clinging to the edge of it (and that's fine!)

I think showing him his reflection would impact him deeply and therefore if it is done at the wrong time/place, he'd actually resent the person who did it. this is because you're making him appear vulnerable.

e.g. if the venue is too public, if the others could see, he'd dislike the fact that others can see a moment of vulnerability

alternatively: if your approval with astarion is too low, he'd automatically distrust it / question your motives. this is someone who simply does not believe that people will be kind unprompted to strangers (because doing so violates his worldview and in some ways makes his abuse feel crueller -- if no one cares, there's a logic to what happened to him, at least)

the more permanent the method, the more effort put in, the more likely he is to have mixed/negative feelings towards it. a sketch is a kindness, but not one that requires a great sacrifice or planning - it's easy to dismiss as a fleeting gesture (while he will keep it, obviously, to look at, because he's not that willing to believe his own bullshit).

in contrast, if a permanent method of showing his reflection was given - e.g. a charmed mirror that casts a spell - I think astarion, with a high approval PC, would feel on some level obligated to pay that 'debt' back. astarion strikes me as someone who distrusts thoughtful, non-flippant gifts because again, he's used to transactional relationships.

I also think it might strike at an insecurity: the knowledge that astarion lacks autonomy/independence to deal with his own issues by himself, and, with some bitterness, is dependent on the PC to help him. if you give astarion an enchanted mirror, he, on some level, feels he is dependent on your magic and your supply of magical items to gain access to an element of his humanity. that doesn't entirely sit comfortably with him.

the "best" way to deal with this? let astarion figure out how to handle this himself. for example: gifting him a 'mirror image' spell scroll or something similar. give him time to study the scroll and he'll find a way to cast that spell himself. mechanically, astarion isn't a wizard, but narratively, his default class is arcane trickster, he has access to magic, I don't think it is really that much of a stretch to believe he could achieve that. in general, I think handing astarion the tools to achieve his own goals by himself will be more appreciated than handing that to him on a plate.

however! counterargument to consider: it may be more valuable in the long run to confront astarion's fear of dependence and the sense of reliance that exists particularly in a tav run, where you the PC have 'saved' him without needing to be saved in return. he needs to realise that the PC isn't expecting anything in return for friendship/romance.

either way, i think showing astarion his reflection is going to be more fraught than one might expect - a generous gift, obviously, he will take (he's been poor and starving enough not to turn it down), but there might be some tension beneath any show of gratitude your receive (or he might feign disinterest, if approval/trust is low enough!)

#astarion #bg3

[razzberriezz]

Fashion Dreamer Tips & Tricks

Some stuff only I found that isn't mentioned or in-game at all or is easily missed as far as I'm aware? I hope it helps some of you guys out :) It is quite image-heavy under the cut, fair warning!!

Colour Matching (Item Creator) Pressing down on the left stick changes the display from mannequin to the item itself, but pressing it again will show whatever item you're creating along with whatever your muse is currently wearing.

So if you've gotten a custom coloured item from someone else, this is great for making items and accessories to match with it! And you don't have to waste 120k points trying to match colours by guesstimation instead like me :'))) Or maybe I'm just dumb because I knew how to zoom in and out, just not the display switching OTL

2. Showroom Configuration (is stupid) This is for the Happy Home Paradise players... Make sure that any mannequins or clothing you display in your showroom is actually accessible, because you cannot walk under ceiling decorations, even if they are lighting. I have no idea why. You also can't change the camera angle, so it'd be best not to put the door/panel decorations all in a row at the front, because then players can't see what you're even displaying (unless it's just like a mannequin in the middle surrounded by lockers... Idk)

Taking the time to plug my showroom again before I swap out the outfits for the fancier stuff I have >o< Find me at a8xv4JW3Am!

3. Muse Advisors There are at least 2 or 3 advisors who are present at the Muse Mirror in each Cocoon in rotation. (e.g. Noz and Iris in HOPE) They can not only suggest colours and unique makeup that you haven't obtained yet* (I've seen a look where your character gets like a Batman/Robin mask lol), but also give you their own! If the one whose look you want isn't there, you just have to quick-travel (press down on the right stick) to another Cocoon and back. Otherwise, you can just keep talking to them and backing out until their option shows up.

Before & After (Iris ver.)!

(*Unfortunately, they won't give you unique eye shines/reflections.)

4. NPCs I've just learnt that the NPCs you start with are most likely random. I've seen others start with NPCs I haven't even seen or heard of! You need to raise their friendship level until you get a special event that says 'Friend Introduction' - and even then, I think the NPC who appears next might be random (unconfirmed). This may make it quite a pain for those who want the unnatural skin colours, since I believe they are only unlockable via NPC friendship rank... So just go into solo mode and spam some outfits :')

5. Camera Angles and Idle Poses This one is a bit useless, but I didn't know about it until now so it's going in. Most of the time, I use the drone camera to take photos, but could never really fit fullbody photos - turns out, you need to angle the camera slightly downwards (have your character looking up) to be able to zoom out enough to fit your Muse's whole body in. If the camera angle is level with your Muse, you will never be able to get a fullbody picture. Who thought this would be a good idea???

Level angle and tilted angle - the level angle is already at the lowest it could go.

Additionally, waiting for a while will let your character have the time to perform some idle animations, some of which (I think) are not present in the poses option, even via NPC friendship rank. The downside is that you'll have to crop out some parts of the UI and the quality will be a little lower - however, that can be fixed using waifu2x (which I tend to use anyways for aesthetic posts lol).

Before & After using waifu2x!

Since the game is so new I thought this might be helpful to some who are also just starting out. If anything here is wrong, please let me know and I'll fix it as soon as possible!

#fashion dreamer #my.fashion.dreamer.posts #idk what else to tag so this is it for now

[hrts4scarr]

ᯓ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ⑅ walk him like a dog 2 ✯ jb22 .ᐟ.ᐟ

★ 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃﹕﹙ yes/no ﹚ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘﹕﹙in which sebastian vettels sister gets her dream job to work along with him, but stumbles across an infamous playboy﹚ — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒﹕﹙purpose use of lowercase letters only, not sure if there's gonna be another part, use of y/n, black-cat!reader, golden-retriever-ish!jenson, past-playboy!jenson, lowkey-past-toxic!jenson, VERYY light angst [i think], probably not well proofread, lmk if there's anything i missed!!﹚ — 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆﹕﹙jenson button 22 x f!vettel!reader﹚ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓﹕﹙icba checking but it's not much at all imooo fjdkjfdsjfkla﹚ ★ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎﹕﹙part two who cheered !?﹚

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JENSON COULDN'T HELP BUT look at the red bull racer's sister eating her lunch with some of her co-workers. she fit right in and right away, even only after a week. she was smiling. oh, her smile. it was different than how she smiled with her brother. how jenson would do anything to make her smile that genuine smile she had with her brother.

"staring at my sister, huh?"

jenson whipped his head around to see sebastian vettel. he opens his mouth then closes it as he sees the fellow driver's raised eyebrows.

sebastian's cold face cracks into a grin. he throws his head back and laughs. "you should have seen the look on your face!"

jenson grumbles under his breath.

"alright, all jokes aside, please don't play with my sisters heart." sebastian puts a hand on jenson's shoulder.

"why would i ever-" jenson starts as he looks at him, but seb raises his eyebrows.

jenson purses his lips. "i.. alright, maybe you're right and i'm sorry."

seb sighs softly. "i'm just looking out for my sister, alright? i love her very much, with all my heart. i don't want to see it broken. i don't want to see *her* broken. just please, promise me."

"i promise." jenson nods sternly.

〜

days after days, you and jenson had formed a friendly and healthy relationship, in which you both hoped would never be ruined. every time you laughed or smiled, you didn't know the thoughts lingering behind the eyes that shined when you did so. you've opened up more and more, finally showing the fun side of you.

jenson hoped to keep it that way. he hoped that your friendship would never be ruined. he'd never felt this way before, and he didn't know whether you felt the same way or not. being the infamous playboy he was, of course he didn't want to break your heart like he did to the other girls. he made a promise to your brother, a promise he could and would never break. you were too dear to him, too precious. he didn't want to break you. he vowed to, with all his life and heart, and he would never admit that to anyone or to himself.

so from then on, he kept it a secret. a secret he couldn't bear. and little did he know, that you on the other hand, was starting to catch feelings too. and you would never admit that to yourself either.

you both had fallen too hard to ever want to break your relationship. your personalities might be polar opposites, but the way you both want to keep your loved ones close and protected was a trait you shared.

jenson, the infamous playboy he was known as, obviously had toyed with a 'few' girls hearts. he's not one to think before he acts. he's the outgoing, social golden retriever.

you were oftenly known is the black cat, and the studiouss quiet kid. you were known by everyone, but not exactly popular. you plan out your movements carefully, always one step ahead. perfect match, honestly.

but further more, jenson made you feel special. you wanted to deny that feeling that made you think, 'he probably gives this treatment to every girl.' but oh, how you were wrong.

he would never offer to carry an item that weighed less than a pound for the 'other' girls. ("here, let me help you with that." "jenson, i can carry it, it's fine!! it's literally just a-" "no, please just let me help." and of course you had to give in to those helpless eyes. that effect he had on you made you weak in the knees.) he would never buy the 'other' girls special and thoughtful gifts. ("please, darling, this is my treat." "but jens-" "i said it once and ill say it again. my. treat.") he would never follow those 'other' girls around like he did to you, like a dog on a leash. ("walk him like a dog." seb snorted. "shut up!!" you muttered, feeling your cheeks get slightly red. jenson rolled his eyes, continuing to follow you neverless.)

it was never those 'other' girls, who he never even talked to anymore ever since he had met you. it's always been you. and from then, it would never change.

★ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎﹕﹙i MIGHTTT take some blurb and part requests for this series, so ill lyk if i do!!﹚ ౨ৎ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓﹕﹙@gray4youuu @c-losur3 @ujws5 @namgification @faithshouseofchaos @isurvived3-11andimproud @somebodyonce-toldme @44lewico﹚

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notes, comments, reblogs, feedback and follows are greatly appriciated!

!! PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ON OTHER WEBISTES/APPS OR COPY MY ORIGINAL WORK !!

#౨ৎ﹔💌 ┄ scar's works ! 🪽 #౨ৎ﹔🏎️ ┄ scar's works ! 🪽 #ᯓ 𐙚 walk him like a dog fic ˚⋆. #hrts4scarr #lvrzzscarr #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #formula 1 smut #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula one #formula one x y/n #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one imagine #f1blr #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 edit #f1 x you #fanfic #f1 fluff #f1 fanfiction #f1 x female reader

[sushis-wild-imagination]

Seventeen and first dates (all members)

More like this on Seventeen Masterlist <3 Requests are open! Genre: FLUFF

→ Choi Seungcheol

“You do look like a fish” he says.

You and cheol were walking around in an aquarium as your first official date. You both have been really close friends for a while before you decided to finally give into your feelings and see where it goes with each other.

You couldn’t be happier, cheol really was the best thing that happened to you, even friendship wise. The sweetest boy.

“Look, that looks exactly like you” he points to ansilly looking fish through the glass.

You put you lips out and pout like a fish.

“Close your eyes; you look exactly like this fish behind you,”

You giggle at that, you’ve never been told you look like a fish and that made you laugh,

“let me take a picture” he says.

You stand at the glass, with your lips out and eyes closed. After two clicks you feel someone in front of you and a pair of lips, pecking yours.

“Hey!” You were fully red. It was your first kiss with him. It was playful and so sweet. Nothing like you imagined but a 100 times cuter, innocent.

“Sue me! I stole a kiss” he says running away from you while you chase him.

“Come back here”

→Yoon Jeonghan

“You can’t eat anything if you don’t catch anything!,” jeonghan tells you while you stand at this pool like area for fishes.

You and Jeonghan confessed quite mutually to each other that you liked each other. All your friends could see it, how you would kick your feet at his messages and how he would giggle at yours. You weren’t just friends.

“You’ll let your girlfriend starve?” You ask acting offended.

He pauses for a second and scans you top to bottom.

“Yes”

You playfully smack him while the fish catching turns into a competition about who catches more fish. At the end of the night you had 6 fishes you caught, snd you foulness possibly eat 6 fishes so you gave some away to the kids who couldn’t catch any.

“If this is how we were going to catch fish, I would’ve taken you fishing instead”

“I am somewhat of a master fisherman myself”

You giggle at the reference.

→ Hong Joshua

You’ve liked joshua ever since he transfered to you school in high school. He was your bench mate and it wasn’t a long time before you fell for his charm, he was a handsome boy with such a kind heart. You still had an umbrella he gave you to use.

You met him again at a reunion after years and the group of friends planned to go to an amusement park that weekend at the reunion.

Seeing him again, after years set you off with some feelings, all unresolved.

You reached the amusement park as a group but little did you know it was a set up and suddenly you and Joshua were left alone.

You ended up touring the entire park, you realised he was the same crazy shua you knew and liked. Everything he did made you laugh.

“Here!” He says and hands you a bracelet he won shooting at balloons.

“A souvenir from our first date” he adds.

You look up at him in surprise.

“First date?”

“Unless you don’t want it to be”

“No, of course, I like that”

“Good”

‘Our first date’ rang in your head the rest of the day.

→ Moon Junhui

This was the first time you had gone over to your boyfriend, Jun's apartment. He liked decorating his apartment and interior design, his apartment was full of decorative items, you went through them all. it was fascinating how much you realise of a person just by seeing how they decorate their spaces.

Jun had called you over for a home cooked meal that he was so confident about. He was so excited to make you this Malapot that he knows he makes the best. He wanted to almost show off to you and impress you with his food.

You were excited for the food too, just listening to him talk about it made you drool when you made the plan.

"Ah it's ruined" you hear jun's voice from the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" you walk over.

"Somethings wrong, it's not tasting the way it's supposed to" he says dejected. You go over and he gives you a spoonful of broth from the pot. It was quite flavourful.

"It's good Jun, what's wrong?" you ask again.

"It's good, not great, I can do so much better" he was very disappointed. He just wanted you to enjoy his food and like his food.

"I'll eat anything you make junnie" you say hugging his side while his eyes never leave the pot in front of him.

You force him to look at you.

"There's always a next time, I'm not going anywhere"

He finally smiles.

→ Kwon Hoshi

You were cycling with your boyfriend of 1 week, hoshi. You met at a fashion show and immediately clicked. You fell for his goofy personality and felt this urge to protect him from the world.

He asked you out first and you happily agreed. Both of you had some feelings some flirtatious text messages happening between the two of you.

But today you could taste blood, he was cycling way too hard and you couldn’t catch up.

He was a little ahead of you while you volunteered to crash in the grass to relax, you would’ve died if you went on for a little longer.

You were panting while the tiger came back to you to check if you are okay.

“Cycling is too hard” you say between laboured breaths.

“You have no stamina” he smirks suggesting something completely different.

It was your chance to chase him down for that comment.

“We’ll see” you blush but also respond sassily chasing him in the grass.

→ Jeon Wonwoo

Jeon Wonwoo, your next door neighbour that had taken a liking to you, has made it routine to pick you up from office everyday, so you could go back home together.

You were still unsure about dating him and he gave you all the time in the world to come to a decision.

You wanted to surprise him today, by agreeing to date him. You had spent a lot of time together and he was a sweet guy. You were just scared of something, past relationships weren’t exactly a flower path. He understood that.

You came out of your office building, to see wonwoo, hopefully your soon to be boyfriend, waiting at his bike.

“Did you wait for too long?”

He smiles. “I’ll wait forever, if its for you”

Maybe you don’t have to wait anymore.

You take a deep breath and take his hands in yours.

“Listen, I had to talk to you about something”

His body language changes and he’s almost nervous. You fidget with his thumb, very embarrassed and shy.

“Whats wrong?” He asks getting concerned at how you couldn’t make eye contact with him.

“I gave us a thought”

He visibly freezes. Like he’s preparing himself for anything thats to come.

“I like you Wonwoo, I know I’ve been scared but Im ready to get through that”

There is a glowing smile on his face. “I’ll treat you so well, I promise” his hand pats your hair. It makes you feel safe and reassured.

“So girlfriend?” He asks putting your helmet on you and buckling up for you.

Him calling you girlfriend sets your chest on fire.

“Yes, boyfriend” you squeak out, not used to this.

“Let me take you to the moon, our first date”

“I’ll go anywhere with you” you say softly, getting on his bike.

→ Lee Jihoon

Jihoon was a schoolmate first, your co worker second, he recommended you at the company you work at now. You became close with him being the only person you knew. Soon, this closeness turned into romantic feelings. You couldn’t get him out of your head.

You asked him out, you straight up told him, you like him and what he thinks about it. It was the first time you had seen him speechless. He took a minute to collect himself before he said “sure” and you started dating. Although his demeanour may seem as if he doesn’t care but you know he likes you too. There has been multiple times jihoon has gone out of his way to help you blend into your work and otherwise.

“Our first dinner in the studio” he said and it made you smile. You like when he says ‘ours’

“You never let me eat in the studio, how cone today you called me here”

His face turns red before he answers. “I thought it’ll be rude to have your girlfriend eat out while I work in the studio”

It was your turn to turn red. You mutter “cute” under your breath.

The power suddenly shuts down and the whole room goes pitch black. Jihoon steps out to see if its just his studio.

“I think something wrong with the generator on this wing” he says sitting next to you on the couch while you gobble up the food you brought for the both of you.

You hear him sigh and carefully lay his hesd on your shoulder.

“Are you tired?”

He shakes his head cuddling closer, you never took him for a cuddler but its like a cat, if a cat CHOOSES you to cuddle, you shouldn’t move. Thats exactly what you did.

You turn on the light on your phone and set it on the coffee table next to your food.

“Torch light dinner”

You hear him chuckle at that while you offer him some food almost feeding him.

You hoped the light never came back and this stayed like this forever.

→ Seo Myungho

You ran an art workshop where you met Minghao for the first time. You didn’t know what he did and who he was until you saw your pictures plastered all over the internet one day.

He was the first to say he likes you. You liked him too, he brought perspective to your life and you loved that about him.

You and him were at a library having a relaxed date but the thing is you suggested going to a library when you didn’t even read.

You look over at hao, sitting by the window completely immersed in his book, he looked gorgeous. You pick out a comic to read from the shelf. You were a bad reader, even comics bored you after a while. But since Hao liked reading you thought you can enjoy it too. You sat next to him on the couch he was at.

You flipped through the pages and almost got bored instantly.

“Trouble reading?” You hear a whisper next to you.

You look up, not being able to manage this front you put on to impress him.

This was the second time he caught you looking bored.

“I’ll be honest, I’ve never been a reader”

“Everyone’s a reader, you just haven’t found the right book yet”

He’s so wise and calm, he brings stability to your chaos. He suggested a book you might like and he was right, you were immediately hooked to the premise and discovered that you like the thriller genre that doesn’t let you put your book down.

→ Kim Mingyu

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

You shake your head no. Kim Mingyu was a random guy you bumped into at a coffee shop you frequented at. You madecthe first move and dared to ask his number.

Turns out he was the sweetest guy you had spoken to in 4 years. He really reset your brain and suddenly you just wanted to do everything in your power to see where things go. You felt an instant connection you didn’t want to let go of and regret later. You decided you’d go for it.

Kim mingyu comes back to your car, you and him decide to watch a screening of cars 2 in a drive in theatre. You have never been to one and he was excited to show you.

As soon as he opens his package of food, the air is filled with the smell of burrito. It makes you hungry as soon as it hits your nose. But you already told him you didn’t want any, and asking for even a bite felt criminal.

But you were subconsciously staring at his food.

“You’re staring y:n” he calls you out.

You immediately snap out of it and look away, muttering a quick sorry under your breath.

You see him dig into his package and pull out another burrito wrap.

“This is for you” he hands you a wrap.

“No, Im really fine” you defend yourself again, but you were so so hungry.

“I know what ‘im fine’ means y/n, it means you’ll get hungry when you watch me eat” he says smiling like the big puppy he is.

You can’t help but give in, you take a wrap from him smiling sheepishly. He really was the best.

“You eat so well, it could make anyone hungry” you say cutely while he gobbled up his burrito in literally 2 bites. It was insane to watch this man eat.

He pats your head softly.

“HEY! Burrito hands!” You squeal while he laughs.

→ Lee Dokyeom

You and Dokyeom were cycling in the park. It was one of your first dates. You had met him at a coffee shop,ordering something you also liked so he offered to pay for yours too.

Here you were on another date with the goofball. The original plan was to bicycle around the park and get some lunch at a picnic spot.

But, as with dokyeom, he fell off his bike showing off some ‘cool’ moves to you. Although he made you laugh but the fall looked bad. You ended up getting him some ice from the store to press on his wrist.

“This is very normal”

“What do you mean?”

"I was a very… curious kid, i’d put my feet out on the road as a car would pass, just to see how it feels” you laugh out loud at that. “That’s hilarious”

“At least this is making you hold my hand” he says looking down at your hands pressing his with ice while your other hand hold his wrist in place.

This realisation makes your ears go red.

→ Boo Seungkwan

“I can’t believe it” seungkwan exclaims.

You met seungkwan as a trainee and you had become fast friends. But life happened and you decided not to be a trainee anymore. You ended up going for artist management and becoming a manager.

Life had plans of its own when they assigned you to seungkwan and your friendship rekindled. This time the friendship took a step further and you started to love spending time with him laughing with him.

One fine day in the car you blurted out that you liked him while driving him to a solo schedule. To your surprise he reciprocated these feelings. You were the happiest girl that day.

“What what happened?” You ask. You and seungkwan had come hiking to a mountain close to his place.

“My pants tore”

You laugh out loud. “What a memorable first date” you continue laughing while he scurries to cover himself with his bag and a towel he had brought in his little backpack.

“What a story, ‘kids, your dad hiked so hard, his pants tore on our first date’” you laugh thinking about the anecdote you have now you can use. Its a funny story.

“You want to have kids with me?” He asks stopping what he did and looks up at you

You freeze at what had just come out of your mouth. You did not mean it like that but now that you think about it definitely sounded like you wanted to have his babies.

“Um..”

“Thats cute” he says and a sense of relief washes over you as you try to come up with something else to catch the subject STAT.

→ Choi Vernon

Vernon wanted to watch this scary movie and you liked him so much you just wanted to be with him. But you forgot how scary scary movies can become.

Half way through the movie you were flinching and just uncomfortable in your seat, it really felt like someone was going to grab your feet from under the seat.

Seeing you this uncomfortable, vernon casually decided to put his arm around you and cover your eyes for you while you covered your ears with both your hands to protect yourself from jumpscares.

This position automatically made you lean into him a little and it made you feel a million types of a ways. He smelled good was the only consistent thought.

“Are you okay?” He asks leaning into your ears and whispering.

It sent a shiver down your spine. You nod without being able to push out any words. You liked being this close to him. ‘The things you do to me Choi Vernon’ you think to yourself.

You could watch a thousand horror movies if this is how you watch it.

→ Lee Chan

“Its burnt!” He exclaimed looking at the marshmellow you decided to toast for yourself.

“Thats the flavour!” You defend. You liked slightly burnt marshmallows.

You and chan are childhood friends that ended up falling for each other. Your way of showing love was through constant banter.

One such banter, Chan ended up confessing his feelings for you and you found it so cute.

You move away to get some crackers for the marshmallows. As you come back you hear a scream.

“Whats wrong whats wrong?” You panic and rush to him. You see Chan holding his fingers out and hissing in pain.

You immediately take his hand to inspect.

You see that it was a little red, he probably burnt himself. You see him think for a second. He is going to say something funny, you knew that look on his face, trying to cook up a joke.

“I burnt myself so you’ll like me” he said dramatically looking into your eyes.

The lamest joke ever made you laugh so hard, only because it was Chan who said it.

#svt imagines #svt preferences #seventeen #carats #caratland #svt scenarios #svt jun #svt hoshi #svt wonwoo #svt woozi #svt minghao #svt Mingyu #svt dokyeom #svt seungkwan #svt vernon #svt dino #dad svt #seventeen dad #dad!scoups #dad!svt #lee chan #dino x reader #seungkwan x reader #hoshi x reader #woozi x reader #svt fluff #svt #scoups x reader #jeonghan x reader #joshua x reader

[casuallyimagining]

Two Hours || myg

otter hybrid yoongi x female reader

Summary: Your neighbor invites you to a work picnic that he's nervous to attend. You promise to only stay for two hours. Word Count: 2,870 Genre: slice of life, fake dating, friends to ???, fluff Warnings: none

Notes: Thank you to @park-jimin-isnt-real for the moodboard above, and to @rec-me-bts for the moodboard below that I used in the teaser. I had so much trouble deciding which one to use where. Also many many thanks to @oddinary4bts and @madbutgloriouspond for beta-ing this for me and for their endless sympathies while I basically had an existential crisis in their dms. Thank you for not telling me I am annoying 💙

The elevator dings and you step onto your floor. Your arm stings from carrying the grocery bags from the garage–they aren’t particularly full, but it’s just heavy enough and just long enough to get your out of shape muscles angry at you. The closer you get to your apartment, the more you notice a banging noise. And when you finally round the corner, you see its source.

Your across-the-hall neighbor, Yoongi, stands outside of his own apartment rattling his door angrily.

“Stuck again?” you ask, fishing out your keys with your free hand.

Yoongi grunts, the small ears on the top of his head pressing into his hair in frustration. Silently, he takes the bags out of your hand while you open your door. 

“You should call the landlord again,” you tell him. He follows you inside as if it’s natural. Which, really, it is. This is the fourth time this month his door has jammed, effectively locking him out of his home until a locksmith showed up.

“I’d fix it myself if he’d let me.” He sets the bags on your counter and starts to hand you items. Strawberries, a bottle of coffee creamer, cucumbers and celery. He picks up a box of frozen fish sticks and flips it around to read. “You know this stuff is garbage, right?”

You ignore his commentary on your groceries. “You know Krolmeir’s never going to let you fix it. He’d have to lower your rent.”

He hums, and you can hear the underlying ‘jackass’ in the tone. 

“Do you want me to call him?” you asked. Krolmeir–your landlord–likes you way more than he seems to like Yoongi. You’re almost positive you can guess why. But you aren’t afraid to use his skeeviness to your advantage.

“I called him just before you showed up.”

“And he said…?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Yoongi imitates Krolmeir’s voice–a high-pitched nasally whine more than anything. He rolls his eyes. “So he’ll be here sometime between five minutes from now and next Tuesday.”

You hum sympathetically. “Hang out here until he comes? I’ll make dinner.”

“Are you making fish sticks?”

“Thought about it.” His face scrunches up in disgust, a massive frown parts his lips, revealing his longer than human canine teeth. You laugh and roll your eyes. “I was actually just going to order something. Want to get sushi?”

His eyes light up, but when he speaks, his tone doesn’t match how excited he looks. “Whatever you want to do. I’m the one crashing your evening.”

You wave him off. He should know by now that he’s not imposing. You’ve been neighbors for a few years now. You’d started off just going grocery shopping together–it’s easier to carry groceries when there are two of you–and quickly progressed to taking refuge in each other’s apartments when something went wrong in your own. First, it had been your air conditioning crapping out that had driven you to Yoongi’s apartment to avoid the late-summer heat. Then, his oven stopped working, and he’d hidden in your living room while the landlord and the handyman made the repairs. Back and forth until a friendship had formed.

The sushi arrives and you settle in together on your couch. You prop your door open so that you can hear if the landlord arrives. He takes two bites of his sashimi before Yoongi hums urgently, causing you to pause the show you’d turned on for background noise.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he says, and you can tell he’s suddenly nervous. “So we’re having a potluck picnic thing at work, and someone decided it would be a great idea to make it mandatory.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah. But I get a plus one, so I was wondering if maybe you’d go with me? Make it a little more tolerable?”

“You want me to go to your dumb company picnic with you?”

“Well, when you say it like that…” Nervously, he pokes at a grain of rice that had fallen off one of his nigiri.

“Sounds like it’s going to be not a lot of fun.”

“Yeah.”

You shrug. “I’m in.”

Yoongi is a ball of nerves as you shift into park. You’re definitely not the first ones here–there’s like ten other cars in the gravel lot, and you can see a large-ish group of people milling about the pavilion just up the hill. He alternates between patting his thigh and picking at the skin around his thumbnail. His ears press into his hair so far you can’t even see them. You know he doesn’t care for his coworkers, but you didn’t know it was this bad. Maybe it’s the crowd, or the fact that so many of his coworkers will be here. You aren’t sure, but you don’t like how affected he is.

You reach over and gently cover his hands with your own. He freezes. “Let’s make a game plan,” you say softly. He hums. “We’ll stay for how long? Two hours? An hour and a half?”

“Two I think. Since it’s mandatory.”

You nod. “Stay for two hours. We’ll talk to people, but if it starts to be too much, let me know.” 

For a moment, he’s quiet. But then, he nods. “Let’s do this.”

You carry the dessert Yoongi made–partially because you’re a little worried he might drop it from nerves–and he sticks by your side. He’s got one hand in his pocket, but he’s so close that the other brushes against you every few steps.

The closer you get, the more the people in the pavilion notice you. You watch as one by one, then a few at a time, they watch you approach. And suddenly, you understand why Yoongi’s uncomfortable. Eventually, someone comes scuttling toward you.

“Hi Yoongi!” she calls, waving enthusiastically as she approaches.

“Oh. Hey Liz.” He presses closer. “We uh… we brought tiramisu.”

The woman–Liz–takes the container out of your hands. You make a small noise of protest, but she’s already gone, back up the hill to the pavilion and everyone else.

“Yoongi and his girlfriend brought dessert,” you hear her announce.

“Oh, tiramisu? Nice!” someone else–you can’t see who–says.

“No way. I thought he was going to bring something fishy.” Someone else, you can see them and you make a note that you hate them, laughs. A few others chuckle, too, and you also hate them.

They’re still laughing when you get to the pavilion. You’re introduced to each of them by finding out what they brought, and honestly, you don’t remember most of their names. It’s David that made the comment about the fish, so you’re sure to memorize his name so you can hate him fully. David’s dating Yoongi’s manager, Marcus, who apparently brought chicken that is very good. There’s Alison, who brought naan, and Rabia who brought chutney to go with it. And Donghyun brought some sort of seven layer dip.

For the most part, none of them talk to you. It quickly becomes clear that these people aren’t friends. Certainly, they aren’t friends with Yoongi, but they aren’t friends at all. They talk to each other, but it’s clear that this is just another mandatory work thing for them, and they don’t want to be here. You’re honestly a little glad that they leave you alone. None of them seem particularly nice. Or interesting.

So you grab food. And you sit together at a table far away from where the rest of the group is lingering.

“One hour, 45 minutes to go,” Yoongi mumbles, and you snort in laughter, almost choking on the naan you’d just taken a bite of.

“Maybe it won’t be so-”

“Mind if I sit?” You’re interrupted by a bright voice, and when you look, Liz is standing beside Yoongi, holding a plate of food.

You look to Yoongi and he makes a face that says he really doesn’t want her to sit with you. But he says nothing, simply gestures to the other side of the table. Which, of course, she takes as an invitation to sit right beside him. He practically squeaks in distress and scoots slightly over so that there’s a bit of space between them.

“I have to be honest,” Liz begins, oblivious. “No one really expected you to bring anyone. We kind of all just assumed you were single, you know?” He hums, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge what she’s saying. Briefly, you consider correcting her–you aren’t dating–but she continues before you can even consider a polite way to address the situation. “How long have you known each other? How’d you meet?”

“Years.” He doesn’t even look at her to answer her, his focus on pushing his food around on his plate. His current victim is the seven layer dip he’s stabbing with a tortilla chip.

“We’re neighbors,” you add, hoping that maybe if you answer her questions, she’ll shut up and leave you alone.

Liz nods enthusiastically. “That’s so cute! You guys are cute.”

“I’m going to grab a drink,” Yoongi announces suddenly, standing up. “Do you want anything?”

“Surprise me.”

He nods and leaves you alone with Liz. “I’m serious,” she laughs. “When we were all told we could bring a plus-one, I don’t think anyone expected Yoongi to bring someone. He’s usually so quiet around everyone at work.”

You’ve lost patience with her quickly. You aren’t quite sure what it is, but every time she opens her mouth to speak, it grates on your nerves. “Sometimes, he only talks when he thinks it’s worth his time.” You shrug and make eye contact with her. 

Her smile falters very briefly, but then she recovers and it’s like nothing changed. “He talks to me, though,” she continues, as if you’d said nothing. “Mostly about new album releases and stuff.” You work at a music store, you think. But you let her keep talking. “He knows so much about music. He played the piano for me once.”

You hum and say nothing, craning your neck so you can look around her to see where Yoongi’s gotten to. He’s at the end of the pavilion, distracted by Marcus, his manager.

“He’s really good,” Liz gushes. “Like, really good. He used to want to be a music teacher–did you know that? He told me-”

You tune her out. Of course, you know that he plays the piano. You’ve seen the brown upright that sits in his living room, never dusty because he plays it too much. You often hear the soft melodies that travel through the walls at night when he can’t sleep. He’d even told you about wanting to be a music teacher–a long-dead dream that he’d abandoned in his early 20s. You wish he hadn’t, he had the patience of a saint and he was one of the smartest people you knew. But you also understand how needlessly cruel the world can be sometimes.

Finally, Yoongi returns, balancing a plate and two bottles of beer. He sits one of the bottles in front of you and, with a flourish, places the plate between you. “Someone made hotteok,” he says gleefully, nudging a pancake in your direction. “They aren’t hot, but Marcus said they were really good.”

He picks one up, gives it a satisfied pat. A wide, gummy smile spreads across his lips and his eyes crinkle in delight. He pats the pancake again a few more times, before nudging the plate toward you. It’s got one more hotteok on it, and a scoop of the tiramisu trifle Yoongi’d made. 

Liz makes a noise of annoyance, and the look on her face says that she’s not happy she’s being ignored. But she plasters on a smile when Yoongi looks over at her.

“Oh. Liz,” he says softly, one hand still gently patting his hotteok. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

Her face falls. “I was just leaving.”

She leaves her plate behind.

He watches after her, eyes wide as she goes to join the group currently surrounding a bluetooth speaker. It’s blasting some sort of 90s pop song–you assume they’ve got a playlist going on someone’s phone. 

“That was weird,” Yoongi says finally. “She’s normally really nice.”

You hum and lie. “Maybe she’s having a bad day.”

And as tactless as you think Liz is, you want to believe that’s true. You’ve heard plenty of stories of her, how she’s the only coworker that Yoongi actually likes, how she’s nice to him, how she actually seems to be interested in what he has to say. You don’t trust her, but you hope for Yoongi’s sake that she’s just off her game today. 

Maybe if he clarified that you weren’t dating, it would help.

He doesn’t make any effort to do that, though, not even when Rabia brings around a QR code for you to scan to add songs to the playlist they’ve got going.

“Thought maybe you and your girlfriend would want to add some songs,” she says, offering a small smile. She waits patiently while Yoongi scans the code on her phone, and then she disappears again, back to the group over by the speaker.

“She seems nice,” you say, watching as he types into his phone and picks a couple songs.

Yoongi shrugs. “I’ve met her like twice? She works nights.”

After a second, he hands you his phone, open to some music website you’ve never heard of. You carefully consider what you might want to add. The site doesn’t let you see what else is in the playlist, so you aren’t sure what songs Yoongi picked, let alone what the others have queued up. But you pick two of your favorites that you think would be fun and hand him his phone back.

Apparently, the playlist is on shuffle, because a few songs later, you recognize the opening beats of one of the songs you chose. Immediately, Yoongi perks up, his little ears on alert as he listens. It takes all of about three seconds for him to break into a grin. 

He’d introduced you to this band back when you first started grocery shopping together. You were driving, he was playing music on his phone. They were his favorite, a small hip-hop group made up of three dog hybrids. It wasn’t common for hybrids to make it in really any industry, so the fact that these guys did and their music was good? You couldn’t deny they had quickly become some of your favorite artists, too.

He sways a little with the music, his eyes closed. He looks content. You smile watching him, rest your chin on his hands. You’re happy you came, you determine.

Two hours fly faster than you thought they would. And when you point out that you’ve hit your promised limit and ask if Yoongi’s ready to go, he immediately nods. So you stand, say your goodbyes. His coworkers make a big deal of you leaving so soon. Liz tries to hug Yoongi before you leave, but he dodges her by grabbing another hotteok–though whether it was a purposeful deflection or just a happy accident, you aren’t sure.

He barely speaks until you’re in the car and halfway back to your apartment building. He shifts around in his seat, digging around in his pocket. He pulls out a rock–his favorite rock, you note–and rolls it around in his hand.

“Thanks,” he says quietly. “For coming with me. I uh… I’m sorry I didn’t tell them we weren’t dating.”

You frown, and when you slow to a stop at the next redlight, you turn to look at him. “You don’t have to apologize for that. If it made the situation even a little easier, it’s totally fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean, when am I going to see these people again?” The light turns green and you hit the gas. “Let them think whatever they want. You wanna come back in eight months and tell them we’re married? Go for it.”

“I-I don’t…”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

He nods. “I appreciate it.”

The car falls silent, the only sounds coming from the radio–Yoongi’s phone connected to the aux cord. He continues to toy with the rock, rubbing it between his fingers and tapping it against the armrest on the door. It takes only minutes to pull into the garage under your building, and even less to find a spot.

While you’re waiting for the elevator to return to the garage, he says your name so softly, you almost don’t hear it over the whirring of the cables and machinery.

“Here,” he says, reaching out and grabbing your hand. Carefully, he presses his rock into your palm.

You look at him, confused. “Yoongi, I…” He loves this rock. He’d never said exactly where he found it, but it’s a little round and very smooth, and you’ve seen him pat his pockets down on numerous occasions to make sure he has it with him.

“Take it. Please. I… As a thank you.” He doesn’t look at you, his face flushed a shade of light pink.

You nod and close your fingers around the rock. You’ll have to find somewhere nice to put it. And maybe, someday, you can find him a new one to replace it.

I'd love to know what you thought! I had been considering making this longer, but I thought leaving it open might be a little more fun. if you're interested, I may do a part two later? idk let me know if you're feeling a part two. thank you again to yav and jay for the moodboards. they're both so pretty.

#yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #hybrid yoongi #hybrid yoongi x reader #hybrid min yoongi #hybrid min yoongi x reader #hybrid bts #hybrid bts x reader #bts hybrid au #yoongi hybrid au #yoongi hybrid #yoongi hybrid x reader

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part Six

Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader

Summary: A few weeks after your first mission with Miguel, he shows up at your apartment to show you something.

Word Count: 10,161 (Someone needs to take my laptop away from me. I promise this will be the longest part. I won't let it happen again.)

Warning: Soft Miguel; Sad Miguel; It made me wish for summer to end even more; Some readers may not recognize some food items mentioned but it's not too important for the plot, however, you can find a guide right here if you want to know what they look like; Slight mention of abuse

Music inspo while writing:

"Luna de Xelajú" - Gaby Moreno, Oscar Isaac (I love this song so much. The Gaby and Miguel edits with this song make me want to sob each time 🥹)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine |

Part Six

The trees in your city slowly change colors as the weeks go by. The greenery of summer fades only for nature to offer its orange, yellow, and red hues on your morning patrols. The sun retreats into hiding sooner, while the moon and stars emerge earlier, lighting the early, chilly evenings. It’s finally autumn. Coffee and book shops play autumnal music in the background as quiet and intimate conversations take place in small, cozy corners. The sweet scent of cinnamon and coffee fills the air. People walk the streets wearing cozy and warm apparel, coffee in hands to provide warmth. When you walk on the busy sidewalks of your city to buy groceries, you see the lively colors of autumn behind condensed window displays. You take notice of the faux autumn leaves and twinkling lights. The sight of mums and pumpkins meets you here and there.

You begin to go out to bookshops more often. You spend time with your friends, both outside and during work. Your friendship with them grows stronger. They visit you in your universe as you start inviting them for dinner at your humble apartment. You slowly begin to talk about Peter with them, feeling easier to bring him up each time you do so.

Many weeks have gone by since your first mission with Miguel. It’s not the last one. You find yourself going on missions with Jess, one other person, and him once a week now. You are no longer surprised by it. It’s normal. One week he assigns you to the same side of the city he works on, the next one he doesn’t. It’s a pattern. Each time you work on the same side, he suggests that the two of you swing through the city when you’re both done scanning for anomaly matter.

It's part of the surveillance and learning plan he has implemented, of course. So, this makes perfect sense. Every other week, you find yourselves on the tallest building’s rooftop, overseeing the city. Sometimes you talk briefly. Sometimes Miguel tells you about anomalies that have been caught from that universe in the past, before your recruitment into the Spider Society. Before you knew of each other’s existence. Other times, it’s you who tells him about anomalies you have caught with other colleagues. You listen intently to each other’s words as a form of respect and trust.

You continue to organize Miguel’s lab. With the weekly assigned missions, your time organizing his lab, and the minutes before scheduled meetings that add up, you begin to spend roughly four hours around the founder and commander of the Spider Society each week. You continue to take coffee for meetings, arriving early as always. Miguel sometimes talks to you about the anomalies from the previous week before anyone else arrives, your conversation ceasing when other ears enter the room. Sometimes you take food to him when you arrive to organize the lab. Miguel is no longer surprised like he used to be about the coffee cups, or like the first time you took him empanadas weeks ago. He accepts the food, and thanks you.

Without fully realizing it, there’s a shift between the two of you. So subtle, like the changing leaves of trees in autumn.

It’s the first of November. You walk around your apartment with your fall playlist playing in the background as you do random chores even though it’s ten at night. You do laundry you needed to catch up on. You put away the little amount of Halloween decorations you have. You wash dishes and clean the kitchen. You fix the throw blanket on your couch. You dust your furniture. It’s all a bunch of random chores that you’ve been meaning to do but have been too busy to get done over the week due to missions, patrolling your city, and Halloween. A lot of petty crimes occur on the holiday because people think they can get away with it if they wear costumes.

You’re also hit with a random spur of energy, so you take advantage of it. You move quietly around your apartment, your music filling the space that would otherwise be silent. As you clean, you think about how different this year has been compared to the last three years. You especially think about this as the holidays are right around the corner now. For once in three years, you have plans for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years. Peter and Mary Jane are hosting Friendsgiving at their universe. Mr. and Mrs. Morales invited you and the rest of the group for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day to their building’s party and then again for New Years.

It's been so long since you even celebrated. You found no point since it was just you and you cut off your friends from your universe. You smile as you clean thinking how it will be different this year. You can’t help but stop and stare at one of Peter’s photos on the wall. He would be happy, you think.

You’re in your bedroom now, putting away random objects that have made other areas of the apartment their home for days when a multidimensional portal opens in your living room. You sense it. You walk out of your bedroom just as the floating objects in your living room fall back into place. The portal is fading now.

Miguel stands in the middle of your apartment. His eyes take in your living room, lightly decorated for the autumn season. He spots a few pumpkins and faux leaves on your bookshelf. He can smell the scent of autumn candles as the music plays softly in the background. He finally turns around, looking for you, it seems. His gaze falls on you, meeting your eyes.

“Miguel. Is everything alright?” you ask, as you stand just outside your bedroom.

Miguel looks around for a second at the fallen objects. He gives you an apologetic look before he speaks. “Everything is fine.”

You nod, unsure of what to say. It’s past eleven at night and your boss just showed up. Randomly. Or at least it seems so. You see Miguel’s eyes scan you briefly, probably noticing that you’re still in normal clothes and not pajamas despite how late it is. His eyes meet yours again as he briefly thinks about how this is officially the third time he has been to your apartment. You are officially the only colleague he has visited these many times in such a short amount of time. He doesn’t let himself think too much of it now.

“Are you busy right now?” he asks at last, quietly.

“I was just doing some chores so, no…” you say, unsure of where this is going. He said everything is fine. He is calm. That means there’s no threat to the multiverse. No need to change into your suit right away.

Miguel nods and sighs so quietly, you barely register it. “I would like - to show you something,” he says, still meeting your eyes.

You stand there for a second or two, processing what he just said before you nod slowly.

“Should I change into my suit?” you ask, still unsure of what’s going on, but Miguel shakes his head.

“No need to change.”

You nod. “Oh, okay. Then – I’m ready,” you say quietly, still standing just outside your bedroom.

Miguel nods before he clicks on his gizmo, opening a portal again. The portal opens. Its lights shine brightly around your apartment and objects begin to float again. You quickly grab your own gizmo, sliding it on before you approach him. He motions for you to enter first and as you do so, you briefly wonder if you should’ve grabbed a jacket as your sweater is on the lighter side. Your worry melts, however, as you step into Miguel’s lab, where it’s warm. You sense Miguel right behind you, so you step to the side. Your eyes scan the lab, trying to figure out what Miguel wants to show you, but you see nothing out of the ordinary. Then again, you don’t know what you’re looking for.

Miguel is standing next to you now as the portal’s colors and lights begin to fade away. You look over at Miguel and find him looking down at the floor as if thinking. You wonder then. What is he trying to show you? Whatever it is, it seems that he might be reconsidering.

“If you’re not comfortable showing me, it’s okay,” you say quietly, not wanting him to feel pressured to show you now but he lifts his gaze to yours and shakes his head softly.

“No – I want to show you,” he says quietly, and you nod.

Miguel nods back before he turns and starts walking deeper into his lab. You follow him, giving him some distance just in case he changes his mind. He walks to a side of the lab that’s not usually trafficked by people, behind his platform. Your curiosity grows with each second as you walk around it, a few feet behind Miguel. Your nose is slowly overwhelmed by a rich and sharp scent, but you can’t pinpoint what it is. Miguel looks behind his shoulder as he finally stops walking. You see it then, or part of it as Miguel’s body covers some of your vision because he’s a few feet in front of you.

“You can come closer,” Miguel says, sensing that you’re still too far away.

As your eyes take in what you can see in that moment, you immediately know where the scent is coming from when your eyes fall on marigold flowers.

An ofrenda, as Miguel had said weeks ago when you were celebrating Peter’s birthday. You suddenly remember. It’s the first of November. Dia de los Muertos. Your mind flashes back to that moment. You were cutting Miguel a second slice of cake, feeling embarrassed about the whole thing when he spoke.

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

He had shared that with you then, to make you feel less embarrassed. To assure you, you weren’t alone in remembering, celebrating, and honoring Peter even after his death.

Your eyes flicker to Miguel for a few seconds, his attention is back to the ofrenda. You step closer, keeping your eyes on him, as you do so. You stop, standing a few feet behind him still, not wanting to invade his space. Not wanting to invade his ofrenda, his act of remembrance, celebration, and honor for his loved ones.

Sensing your reluctance to walk closer, Miguel speaks in a hushed tone.

“Y/N… you may come closer,” he whispers.

You stand still for a few seconds and then walk closer, stopping next to him. Your eyes take in the ofrenda as you’re able to appreciate it more now that you’re closer to it. Miguel’s ofrenda is absolutely beautiful and you can see the effort he put into it as your eyes take it in.

The ofrenda is made of two levels, both are covered in a bright blue fabric. Sheets of tissue paper in lively colors were cut into intricate patterns and hung from the edges of both levels. You notice the second level holds four photographs, which are in physical, wooden frames. Despite the advanced universe of your boss, Miguel O’Hara still used physical, wooden picture frames for his ofrenda. For some reason, that makes you feel tenderness towards the man next to you. Your eyes move from each picture slowly. The first photo your eyes fall on show an older woman. You take in her appearance, noticing some of her features are familiar. Miguel’s face flashes in your mind. His mother, you realize, knowing nothing about her. No one knows anything about Miguel’s family. It isn’t something that Miguel ever talks about.

Your eyes move to the other end of the level, falling on the photograph of a young man. He was handsome with one of those cheeky, boyish smiles. You notice he looks on the younger side and you can’t help but wonder if Miguel once had a brother.

The two photos in the center show people you have seen before. Two individuals you know a little about.

Gabriella and Miguel’s wife.  Your eyes fall on Gabriella, noticing that her photo was more centered on the ofrenda. You notice the decorations then. Small sugar skulls made of clay fill the gaps between each photograph. Marigold flowers serve as a pop of color behind the picture frames and clay sugar skulls. Lit candles light up the ofrenda on both levels. They flicker softly, creating a soft and intimate moment.

Your eyes fall to the lowest level. You still find marigold flowers, sugar skulls, and lit candles but there are other items in front of each photograph. You remember that on Dia de los Muertos, loved ones place food, drinks, and other objects that those who have passed away enjoyed in life. In front of his mother’s photograph, Miguel placed a plate with food, surrounded by fruit like apples and oranges. A glass bottle with an orange drink was placed next to it. When you move to the young man, who you are almost certain is Miguel’s brother, you spot tamales, a drink, and two pink pieces of bread in the shape of a seashell. Pan dulce. There are also these thin, bright yellow candy-sized packages next to his drink. Your eyes almost miss it but there’s a scarf looped around the plates with food. When you look back at the photograph, you notice the young man is wearing that very same scarf in his photo.

You move to Miguel’s wife. She, too, has a plate with food, different from the others. You cannot help but wonder… Did Miguel cook their favorite meals? Once again, tenderness washes over you as you imagine Miguel spending the day cooking and setting up his ofrenda. You finish looking at Miguel’s wife section, seeing some candy and a drink, too.

It's Gabriella’s section that really strikes you, making a bittersweet feeling rush through you as you scan her section. There are three plates of food. You don’t recognize the food in one of them but the other one you do. Pancakes with chocolate chips on top. Your mind flashes back to months ago, when you entered Miguel’s lab after he found out that Lyla had hidden a folder containing photos and videos of Gabriella and his wife. He had mentioned Gabriella loved his breakfasts, especially pancakes with chocolate chips, when he was telling you a little bit about her.

Your heart aches as you continue to stare at the pancakes. You swallow the knot that has begun to form in your throat. You tell yourself to calm down. You know Dia de los Muertos is not about grief. It’s about celebrating those who have passed away. Remembering and honoring them. A night for loved ones to visit and spend time with those who are still alive.

You sigh quietly as your eyes move. You spot more items in Gabriella’s section. There is quite a bit of candy, which makes you smile. You spot small, green and white, bottles with pointy red lids. There are small packs with bright pink tablets, which remind you of gum. Your eyes fall on two lollipops. They have a clown face printed on it, showing a chocolate covered marshmallow with gummies as a face. There’s more candy, like those thin bright yellow packs you saw on the young man’s side. Your eyes move to the last plate. Gabriella also has the same kind of pan dulce found on the young man’s plate: two pink seashell-like pieces of bread.

There are also drinks in Gabriella’s section. You find tiny see-through bottles, almost the height of your pointing finger with a beige liquid and red letters printed on the outside. There’s also a tall glass of what looks like chocolate milk, next to a short, blue container with an animated character printed on it. And finally, there’s a large mug of rice pudding sprinkled with cinnamon. Arroz con leche.

It doesn’t stop there, however. The bright blue fabric covers some of the floor and right there you find toys and other random objects. Your eyes immediately fall on a soccer ball, reminding you that Gabriella loved to play soccer and was part of the soccer team at her school. You smile as you keep your eyes on it for a few seconds. You spot children’s books on the side, noticing that some of them fall under the science genre.

You remember that Miguel shared with you that Gabriella loved science and enjoyed reading. There are other toys of course, like dolls and small animal figures. Your eyes fall on one item specifically though. A small acoustic guitar. You briefly wonder if little Gabriella liked to play the acoustic guitar but of course, you don’t ask about it.

Your eyes take in the ofrenda again, all of it now. Miguel did a beautiful job. You smile softly at the sight and the fact that Miguel went to your apartment tonight to show you his ofrenda. He’s honoring his loved ones in his own way, and he invited you to be a part of it. The same way you invited him to be a part of Peter’s birthday celebration.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel Miguel move. He slowly gets on his knees in front of the ofrenda, with a soft sigh before he rests his body over his heels. You notice he’s looking straight ahead at Gabriella’s photo. You slowly drop to your knees, too, and as you stare at Gabriella’s photo you speak, breaking the silence.

“It’s beautiful, Miguel,” you whisper softly in Miguel’s quiet lab.

“Thank you,” he whispers back, softly.

The two of you stare silently at the ofrenda. The candles’ wicks flicker softly, still casting soft shadows on the photographs. You think about Miguel’s loved ones. He has lost so many people even before Gabriella and his wife. You can’t help but wonder now, how lonely was Miguel that he inserted himself in another world?

You have never judged him and never will for this. However, you cannot help but feel heartache for him. He has lost so many people. Why did life take so much from this man? This man, who you have begun to know better with each passing day, who was soft, loving, kind, and caring on the inside? He didn’t show these traits much these days, but you have received his kindness before.

He showed you kindness the day he showed up at your apartment to check on you. It wasn’t Jess who sent him. He had shown up on his own. You still wonder about that. How he had asked you not to bring it up to Jess so he wasn’t caught in a lie. He didn’t want you to know he had done it because he wanted to or because his true, hidden traits had led him to do it. Ever since he lost Gabriella and his wife, he was distant and cold, unwilling to attach himself to anyone again. Except, his true self was still there, hidden under the surface of his coldness and unattachment.

He made appearances sometimes. Like that day at your apartment. Or the day he talked about Gabriella to you when you walked into his lab, not knowing he was having a bad day because of Lyla’s secret. Or on Peter’s birthday. And there were other moments you hadn’t been around for like the time he allowed Gwen Stacy into the Spider Society. Even though he didn’t want her to be a part of it because of her connection with Miles, Miguel allowed her recruitment because of the issue with her father and her Spider-Woman identity.

That version of Miguel made his appearance today. Miguel O’Hara spent his entire day working on his ofrenda for his loved ones. He cooked. He cut the tissue paper. He printed out the photos and placed them in picture frames despite being able to simply display them with screens. He picked out the marigold flowers. He bought drinks, candy, and toys. He put together his ofrenda.

As the two of you kneel before it, there’s a shared understanding between the two of you. There’s comfort. Vulnerability. Trust. A bond between the two of you that has been forming over the last months strengthens.

You sigh softly as your eyes land on the soccer ball again. Miguel turns slowly to you, looking down to see your face. He sees you looking at the soccer ball.

“She loved playing soccer, so I bought her one,” Miguel mutters quietly, and you nod.

“I remember. She played in the soccer team,” you say softly.

Miguel nods, feeling a warm sensation wash over his chest as you mention that fact. It has been many weeks now since he shared that with you. And you remembered.

“I think – she must be very happy to see her favorite breakfast,” you add, looking up at Miguel.

He looks down at you. You remembered that, too. Miguel nods before turning away slowly. He has never shared much about his life with others. Not with Jess or Peter, who were already a part of his life back then. They knew some parts of his life of course but he had never gone into much detail. It had been too painful. It was easier to keep it all to himself, put away at the back of his mind while he exhausted himself with work to keep his emotions at bay.

You are the first one he has shared some of those days with. Miguel can’t help but think about the first day he met you. Jess introduced you and of course, he had thought you were the opposite of him. You seemed so happy and alive despite having lost someone. He had been so wrong about you. You carried your own grief and loss but hid it so well.

Either way, had someone told him that he was going to be opening to you in so many ways back then, he would’ve laughed. He wouldn’t have believed it, but it was true. He has opened up to you. And you remember. You listened to him. You didn’t ask questions. You understood.

Miguel sighs softly, looking at the photographs. You knew of his wife and sweet Gabriella of course but not of his mother or Gabriel. Little Gabrielito. Miguel shakes his head softly at his brother’s photograph, thinking how he left too soon.

Miguel clears his throat, turning slightly to you now. This catches your attention, so you turn to face him.

“The young man – that’s my brother. Gabriel, or as I called him, Gabrielito. He passed away a few years ago,” Miguel shares.

You offer Miguel a sad smile, not speaking. Not wanting to discourage Miguel from sharing.

“He was my little brother,” Miguel says. “He was such – a pain on the butt sometimes but he always meant well. He was always cheery. Kind.”

You nod, wanting to say that you could tell just by the cheeky smile on Gabriel’s face. Miguel notices that you seem reluctant to speak. He thinks about how respectful you always are. Again, you never ask questions. You never overstep his boundary lines. And hell, his respect for you grows in that moment even more. You are a good person. You are kind. Miguel fails to notice it, but his heart beats a bit faster. You are the closest he has to a friend these days even though he doesn’t fully realize it. You are the only person he was willing to share this moment with because you allowed him to be a part of Peter’s birthday celebration. He wanted to reciprocate the gesture.

And, as he stares down at your face, he realizes that he wants to hear your thoughts. He wants to know what you think. He wants you to ask questions because he feels comfortable with you. The firm boundary line he has established and maintained for so long, crumbles in that moment for you.

“You can talk, you know,” Miguel says softly, prompting you to offer him an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t want to intrude or overstep. I know how delicate and personal these moments are,” you respond truthfully. “Thank you for letting me in on your celebration,” you whisper, and Miguel detects the sincerity in your tone.

He nods. “You made me a part of Peter’s birthday celebration … I wanted you to be a part of mine,” he answers softly.

You nod once again, giving him a brighter smile. “Thank you,” you whisper, meaning it.

Not everyone understood of course but you understood each other. With his words coming back to you, about being able to talk, you sigh softly before you speak.

“Your brother – I can tell he was cheerful with that cheeky smile,” you say, turning to Gabriel’s photo.

Miguel’s eyes fall on his brother’s smile. It was indeed cheeky.

“Since a kid,” Miguel shares. “He always had that smile. It never changed throughout his life. There were always at least two girls who had crushes on him when we were kids because of it,” he says fondly, his mind going back to days that were long gone when Gabriel and he were still in school.

You chuckle lowly. “I can imagine it got him into some trouble with the girls,” you say, smiling, unable to stop yourself from also thinking of younger Miguel. You wonder what he was like when he was a teenager. You wonder if he also had girls crushing after him, and you are immediately confident he did. If Gabriel had the girls crushing, there was no doubt Miguel definitely did, too. You have never thought of Miguel in that way but even though you have never thought of him like that, it doesn’t mean you are blind. Miguel is an attractive man to say the least. People, mostly women but even some of the men in the Spider Society, talk about it sometimes. Even if you hadn’t noticed it yourself, you are sure you would’ve at one point with the questionable conversations you overheard sometimes in passing when colleagues thought they were being discreet, except they weren’t.

“Believe me, it did. I once had to come to his rescue because this girl’s boyfriend thought he was flirting with her,” Miguel says, shaking his head, missing his brother. “But he wasn’t like that. He was a good person. A good man.”

Miguel thought of Gabriel when he allowed himself to think about the past. He loved his brother even when there were tensions between them.

“He was the better brother,” Miguel mutters. “He was kind. Unselfish.”

You can’t help but get hung up on the word “unselfish.” Did Miguel think he was selfish?

When he thought about Gabriel, Miguel couldn’t help but wonder what his little brother would have said about what he did. He was so selfless and compassionate. If there is a Heaven, Miguel fears that Gabriel must have disagreed with his decision. With what he did in Gabriella’s universe.

You sense a slight shift in Miguel’s mood, even when your mind is still stuck on the indication that Miguel feels like he was the selfish brother of the two. You feel the urge to keep the mood light. You don’t want to see Miguel sad or upset, so you speak up.

“He sounds like a wonderful person. I think I would’ve liked him a lot,” you start, looking at Gabriel’s photo before looking down at the yellow candy packs. “I see he and Gabriella liked the same candy,” you add softly, hoping to lighten his mood again.

Miguel, staring at his brother’s photo, briefly thinks about what you said, and he agrees. In fact, Miguel can’t help but think that Gabriel would have befriended you was he still alive. You were both warm and happy people. Unselfish, he thought again.

“Gabriel would have liked you,” Miguel says, knowing this is true. “I think you two would have been great friends,” he says pausing for a few seconds. “And yes – they’re called Pulparindos. It’s made from the pulp of tamarind fruit. Gabriel loved them. I swear he ate like four a day. He always had some with him,” Miguel says with an amused tone but there’s no smile on his face. “Imagine my surprise when I found out Gabriella also loved them,” he adds fondly.

You nod, that’s why both Gabriel and Gabriella had the same kind of candy then. You also feel somewhat pleased with the fact that Miguel thinks his brother would’ve liked you.  

“We would go to the store, and she always made a beeline for the candy aisle. I could never say no to her,” Miguel says, his voice still laced with that fondness as he thinks of the times they went to get groceries. “We made an agreement. She could have one piece of candy each day but no more. She always respected the deal.”

You stare at Gabriella’s photograph. She’s in the frame alone, smiling at the camera. Again, there’s that toothy smile you remember from weeks ago. Your heart aches for her. For Gabriel. For Miguel’s wife.

For Miguel… who didn’t have the luxury of visiting all his loved ones at the cemetery, you suddenly realize as the two of you remain kneeled on the floor. Miguel couldn’t visit his wife or Gabriella. There were no bodies to be buried. No funerals.

Your sudden realization cuts deep into your soul. You cannot imagine what you would do if you were in his shoes. If you didn’t have at least that small comfort of knowing that Peter rested somewhere in peace. Or the comfort of being able to visit him whenever you wanted or needed to. Or the comfort of talking to him, even when you know your stories are heard by silence.

Miguel had none of that when it came to Gabriella and his wife. Your heart feels heavy with pain for Miguel. You have never thought of this and to be honest, no one else has either. Miguel was expected to move on eventually but how could someone move on when they didn’t even have the chance to mourn properly? How could anyone move on when they didn’t have a place to visit their loved ones?

It has been those small things that you have taken for granted that have helped you during your mourning period. Those comforts that mostly everyone who loses a loved one has but for Miguel… it’s not true. He doesn’t have any of those comforts.

You feel the sudden urge, for the second time in months, to reach out for Miguel. You want to comfort him. You want to hold him in your arms and tell him how sorry you are that this has happened to him. That you are sorry that he has lost so many loved ones. That he lost his wife and Gabriella, his loving family.

You want to tell him that he deserves so much more. That he deserves a family and happiness. And that he’s not selfish for wanting these things. You want to hold Miguel, and take away his grief, sadness, guilt, and any other negative emotion he still carries with him.

You just want to comfort Miguel.

Your hand, which has been resting on your lap, rises slowly, involuntarily, in Miguel’s direction. You freeze for about two seconds, realizing what you are about to do. You bring your hand back to your lap discreetly, or at least you hope it was discreetly.  

You cannot comfort Miguel in the way that you usually comfort people because he doesn’t do physical touch. No matter how badly you want to rest your hand over his and let the gesture speak for itself, you know you can’t. Or rather, shouldn’t. You don’t dare break his boundary line as you return your attention to Gabriella’s photo.

Beside you, Miguel also stares at his daughter’s photo. His mind has paused the memories and instead, is overtaken by the fact that you were reaching for him just seconds ago. He didn’t fail to see the way you stopped yourself. He senses it’s not because of impropriety or even changing your mind about it but for another reason.

As Miguel stares at Gabriella’s photo, he wonders how you know. Perhaps it was Jess, he realizes. Perhaps she mentioned that he cannot do physical touch these days. And you, as always, respected his space. He silently appreciates your respect and the fact that you wanted to comfort him. He sighs softly. It’s been so long since he has been comforted by someone physically.

The last time he felt another person’s skin was… with you, he realizes, remembering the day he checked up on you. That day, for once, he allowed his hand to be bare so he could feel your face, to check if you were running a fever. That was the first time he had felt another person’s skin in a really long time, and there hadn’t been any other instances since then. He remembers how natural it had felt to press his hand to your forehead regardless.

Miguel’s thoughts are interrupted when he hears your stomach grumble, making him turn to you. He narrows his eyes slightly as you slowly look at him.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

You shake your head, embarrassed, thinking about how you had an early dinner and that was hours ago.  “No. I ate something a few hours ago. It was just my stomach being – weird,” you say softly and Miguel stares down at you, knowing you’re lying.

Before you know it, he gets up with ease. “Hold on,” he says walking away and around his platform.

You wait there, not knowing where he’s going on, or what he’s doing. It’s a few minutes later that Miguel returns. You hear his footsteps and turn around to find Miguel carrying two cups and two plastic bags hanging from his right wrist. Noticing your furrowed brows at the sight, Miguel walks over to you and hands you one of the cups.

You immediately feel the warmth of the drink before the scent of coffee fills your nostrils when you take the cup from his hand. You look up at Miguel, with curious eyes but he doesn’t say anything as he kneels next to you again, this time much closer than before, you notice. Miguel places his own cup to the side before he pulls the plastic bags off his wrist.

“I only made enough of the food for them…” Miguel says, pausing and nodding at the plates with food. “But I did get extra of this,” he says, opening one of the bags and showing you.

You catch a glimpse of pan dulce, which you have tried before. You meet his eyes again as he moves the bag closer to you. He motions for you to get some.

“I know you’re hungry,” he says quietly, meeting your eyes. “Please.”

You feel reluctant but then again, the pan dulce looks too appetizing to say no to. You nod slowly and reach into the bag, grabbing a pink, round seashell like piece of pan dulce.

“Those are called conchas,” Miguel says as he sees what you chose. He turns to the ofrenda. “Gabriel and Gabriella loved those. Especially the pink ones.”

You turn to the ofrenda, returning your attention to the pink conchas you noticed earlier on Gabriel and Gabriella’s sections.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, holding the cup of coffee and pan dulce, feeling embarrassed. You wonder if this is how Miguel felt the first couple of times you took him coffee and then in the last couple of weeks food.  

Miguel’s head turns to the side to look at you. “You’re welcome,” he says softly before he, too, grabs a concha.

He looks away from you as he breaks a piece of the pan dulce to make you feel comfortable. He knows you were lying to hide the embarrassment of your hunger, so he turns away to give you space. He brings a small piece of the concha to his mouth, the pan dulce reminding him of his childhood when his mother made hot chocolate for Gabriel and him. Miguel remembers how Gabriel and him always looked forward to autumn and winter because the food was better. They got hot chocolate with pan dulce; tamales of all kinds, including his favorite ones, which were the sweet ones back then because he loved the sweetness of them and the fact that his mother added food coloring to make them colorful; they also got buñuelos, and pozole amongst other delicious foods.

Miguel brings the piece of pan dulce to his mouth as he thinks of the past, of his childhood. He didn’t think too often about it but when he did, he tried to only think of the memories that included Gabriel. He didn’t like to think of other memories that included the man he once thought was his father. The same man whose last name Miguel still holds to this day. Other memories included his mother as well. Some were from the early days of his life and then from her last years when they had grown closer once there were no more secrets and lies between them.

It was just his mother and Gabriel. Neither his stepfather nor biological father were thought of. Nor were they on his ofrenda. He couldn’t bring himself to add them to the ofrenda that was for those he loved and cherished dearly. Those he missed.

“That was my mother,” Miguel suddenly says once he finishes eating the small piece of concha, remembering he hasn’t talked about her. “Her name was… Conchata.”

You finish chewing the small piece of bread you, too, broke off. You nod. “She was beautiful,” you say as you turn your attention to her photograph. You can see Miguel got a lot of her features, as did Gabriel. You don’t say anything about the fact that there’s no sign of his father, not knowing Miguel had a stepfather as well.

“She was… We didn’t have the best relationship for some time, but things changed in her last years. It was often a problem between Gabriel and I in those years. He always tried to remain neutral. I, on the other hand…” Miguel trails off, thinking of the past. “I distanced myself from her for some time until we resolved our issues.”

You frown a little. Is this why he thought Gabriel was better? Because Gabriel remained neutral in whatever problems Miguel and Conchata had? Despite Miguel indicating that he isn’t as good as Gabriel, even saying he distanced himself from his mother in a negative tone, you can’t bring yourself to think of him any less. You have no right to begin with. You don’t know what happened between them. There’s so much that you still don’t know about Miguel. So much he might never reveal. Either way, you don’t care.

“We all have our reasons for what we do,” you finally say, thinking this was the best neutral thing to say. “You had your reasons for distancing yourself.”

Miguel nods, appreciating your response. “I did,” he says simply, thinking about those reasons. Thinking about the abuse from his stepfather that his mother allowed. About the manipulation. The lies.

He has never shared his past with anyone. The only person that knew of it has passed away, taking those memories with him to the grave. Gabriel. Miguel doesn’t know if he will ever share that. He put it in the past for the most part.

However, he couldn’t help but feel that if he ever shared his past… it would be with you but not tonight. At least not all of it.

Miguel clears his throat. “I had a stepfather and of course, a biological father but I wasn’t close to either of them. They have both passed away, too.”

You notice a slight change of tone. It’s laced with resentment. You put your cup of coffee down.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” you say gently. “Tonight, is for them, right?” you ask softly, motioning to the ofrenda.

Miguel nods. “Yes, but I know the other members talk. About my past. About my family.”

You nod slowly, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. That’s how you found out about what happened in Gabriella’s universe and what happened with Miles. It turns out that despite being superheroes and being part of a professional superhero society, its members were not immune to gossip.

“I didn’t have a good relationship with either of them. That’s why they’re not on the ofrenda,” Miguel continues, feeling like he wanted to get it out of his chest for once.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you reply, and Miguel nods.

“It’s in the past now. I just wanted to say it – since my mother is on it. And again, I know people talk.”

You nod, feeling sad that Miguel feels the need to share his past life. “Please know that you never have to explain yourself. It’s your life, and you don’t owe anyone an explanation,” you say, surprising yourself with your words and tone but you hope you make your point clear. He shouldn’t feel pressured to share anything just to satisfy people’s curiosity. “But thank you – for trusting me enough to share that with me,” you add, softly again.

Miguel feels stunned by your words, especially your change of tone. It almost felt like you were scolding him. He can’t help but feel comforted while also amused by it. He feels his lips curl upward as he looks down at you. You notice it, of course. The slight curling of his lips. Did you almost make Miguel smile?

You can’t help but stare at his mouth. You have seen his smile in a photograph before and it was… beautiful. You remember the spark in his eyes as he smiled. His smile was such a sight it made you wonder what it would be like to see it in person. You can’t help but feel selfish at this moment. You want – need – to see Miguel O’Hara smile.  

You want to see him happy because he deserves it.

You meet his eyes and offer him a small smile, feeling happy that you almost made him smile but Miguel surprises you. Miguel, for once,returns a genuine, small smile.

Miguel O’Hara, founder and commander of the Spider Society, your boss, is smiling at you.

You feel like your breath has caught in your throat suddenly. Miguel is smiling at you. It’s a small one but it’s a smile. You stare at it and meet his eyes. The moment feels much longer than it lasts but in a good way. You abruptly look down at your piece of pan dulce, feeling like you are overwhelmed by the sight of Miguel’s smile. You can’t comprehend your emotions, so you take a piece of pan dulce and change the subject.

“This is really good. Thank you,” you tell him, looking up at him again.

The smile is gone but there’s still a hint of it on his face as he looks down at his own piece of pan dulce. His mood is lighter, indicating that the resentment you detected earlier about his fathers is gone. You realize he found your sudden change of tone, which you now realize may have come off as scolding, amusing and you don’t mind it.

“Glad you liked it,��� he says with a tone you can’t pinpoint right now as his smile is still flashing in your mind. “And thank you. For your words,” Miguel adds, meaning it.

You nod at him and take another bite of your concha, thinking. You are never going to forget this night.

The two of you continue to kneel on the floor but it feels like your distance has decreased somehow. You can feel his body warmth much closer as you eat pan dulce and hot coffee. The lab is silent and mostly dark around the two of you, but you find yourselves in a peaceful and comforting silence as the scent of marigold flowers and coffee fills your nostrils. The soft flickering of the candles on the ofrenda creates a warm and soothing mood, spreading that warmness to the two of you on this cold November night.

It is a beautiful moment, shared by two people who understand each other on many levels. It is a moment that will pass, like every other moment you have shared so far but just like the rest, it will be a moment the two of you will look back on. It is a moment that only the two of you will know of as there is an unspoken agreement these moments were for yourselves only.

Miguel eats his piece of bread, quietly. He’s thinking about your reaction to him smiling. It makes him feel a mix of emotions. Was the sight of him smiling, even if it was a small smile, so surprising? Of course, he knows he doesn’t smile much these days, but your reaction makes him feel like the sight of it is a once in a lifetime moment. That was one emotion.

Another emotion is… what is the word? His emotions and thoughts are a bit out of place tonight, making it harder to think but he feels… satisfaction? Is that the right word he’s looking for? The point is that he found some joy in seeing your surprise, and your sudden – was it shyness? Was the sight too much for you that you had to look away and change the subject?

Miguel takes a sip of his coffee as he thinks about how he liked your reaction to him smiling, no matter how small it was. He sets the cup down and looks at the other plastic bag he brought with him. He picks it up, remembering.

“There’s candy here, too,” Miguel says opening it.

You finish eating your piece of bread, making a note to look for some pan dulce in your own universe because it was wonderful, as you turn your attention to the bag. You’re still thinking of Miguel smiling. You watch as Miguel pulls out different candy, holding so much in one hand because of its size.  

He shows you the candy, and you recognize it from the ofrenda. He extends his arm out to you, offering you candy. You look up at him.

“What do you recommend?” you ask, and he begins to tell you what each candy is, even when you recognize some of it from trying it before.

You eventually go for a clown lollipop, which makes Miguel raise his eyebrow slightly.

“What? It has three things. Marshmallow on the inside, chocolate on the outside, and gummies,” you say giving him a small smile.

“You got a point,” Miguel says, grabbing one himself.

The two of you open your clown lollipops. You look at your own, noticing the gummies’ placement on the lollipop, which are supposed to signify the eyes and mouth, are crooked, looking nothing like the picture on the wrapping. You frown a little but shrug.

Next to you, Miguel stifles a low chuckle, noticing your frown at the appearance of your lollipop. He shows you his.  

“The thing about these is that they never look like the picture on the wrapper,” he says quietly as you look at his crooked lollipop.

You chuckle, noticing his has the mouth upside down. “I was a little disappointed but I’m pretty sure the taste is going to make up for it,” you say, looking at it before you take a bite, making sure to go around the gummies.

Miguel watches, wanting to see your reaction. You chew the small piece you bit off, the chocolate and marshmallow melting in your mouth. Miguel sees the pleasant look on your face.

“Oh wow, this is – I think I’m in trouble,” you say, taking another small bite, still going around the gummies, deciding you’re going to leave them for last.

Miguel raises an eyebrow as he, too, takes a bite of his, also going around the gummies, as you mention being in trouble. You finish eating and look over at him.

“I used to have a sweet tooth. I think this is going to make me return to my bad ways,” you explain as you take another bite.

Miguel feels like smiling again as he sees you go for another bite. He also notices that you left the gummies for last, which reminds him of Gabriella because she used to do the same thing when he bought these lollipops for her.

The two of you spend another hour sharing candy and Miguel tells you about each one. Miguel eats the same candy you choose each time, as if he was trying it for the first time as well. He pays attention to your reactions, noticing which candy leaves the best impression on you. He also shares bits and pieces of Gabriella’s liking for a specific kind of candy. You listen intently when he speaks, appreciating his openness with you. You notice there’s no sadness as he speaks fondly of her. At least not tonight.

“I guess we’re not sleeping tonight,” he mutters as the two of you are now sitting, still on the floor, facing the ofrenda.

It’s past midnight now and the two of you have eaten quite a bit of candy, plus you had that cup of coffee. You both feel awake and alert.

“I don’t think I was planning on sleeping early, anyway,” you say quietly, staring at the flickering candles.

Miguel leans back on his hands, stretching his back slightly. The two bags he bought earlier are between you. The plastic wrappers from the candy you two ate are in a neat pile.

“You were doing chores,” he says, remembering you had mentioned that when he arrived.

You nod. “I had some random chores that I meant to do over the week but didn’t get to.”

“I’ve been keeping you busy with missions,” he says, looking at the photos of his loved ones.

You chuckle lightly. “It’s just the life of a superhero.”

Miguel nods, knowing exactly what you mean. When he lived in Gabriella’s world, he took every chore in the house. He cooked, cleaned, did the laundry, dishes, cut the lawn, and many other chores on top of being a father and a superhero. There were days when it all felt like too much, especially when he was unable to complete some of those chores when his superhero duty called. When he felt like that, when it was all too much, he just reminded himself that it didn’t matter. It was okay if the lawn grew a bit tall. It was okay if he got behind a day or two on laundry. It was okay as long as it meant he got to spend time with Gabriella. Her happiness and comfort were his top priority, and if he had to choose which he often did, between doing laundry or sitting on Gabriella’s bedroom floor playing with dolls because she asked him to join her, he always chose spending time with her.

The satisfaction of done laundry, or a clean sink, never compared to Gabriella’s smiles and laughs. If he could pay to hear her laugh live again, Miguel would give up everything he owned. Even if it was just one more time.

Miguel sighs softly, thinking of Gabriella. Memories of them playing on her bedroom floor flash through his mind. He can hear her voice and laugh. He remembers the way it felt to hold her in his arms. He remembers the nights he had to find a way to fit in her tiny bed to comfort her because she had nightmares. He’d lay there for hours, even if his muscles were tired. Even when his body desperately wanted to stretch to ease the tension, he laid there, guarding her sleep. He remembers the natural father instinct that surged through him. It was as if he had been meant to be a father his whole life.

As Miguel stares at the ofrenda, his eyes fall on the toys, and he silently prays that Gabriella visited him on this Dia de los Muertos. He prays that she forgave him for lying. For replacing her biological father. He prays that she found joy in the toys and food.

“Perdóname, mija.”

“Do you – do you mind telling me more about her?” you ask in a whisper, noticing Miguel’s lingering eyes on his deceased daughter’s photograph. You don’t know what gave you the confidence to ask that and you quickly add, “I’m sorry, I – you don’t have to. I don’t know what came over me.”

Miguel turns slowly to you, looking down at you. Your eyes meet. He’s quiet for a few seconds but his face is calm. He doesn’t look upset, and he’s not. He’s glad you asked. He’s just surprised and comforted by how you asked. It’s strange. Sometimes he feels like you grieve with him. He sees it in your eyes and detects it in your words and tone. He has never felt like anyone could share his grief. Until you. You didn’t even know Gabriella or his wife, or that version of himself.

Regardless of that fact, Miguel feels like you grieve with him. As if you grieve the opportunity of knowing them and a life he no longer has.

Miguel nods at last. “Gabriella…”

And so, the two of you spend another hour or so together in his lab. Miguel O’Hara begins to talk about his daughter and it’s like a door opens. His memories pour out of him, and you listen intently, nodding. He talks about the times she was sick, the time she fell from a swing and the scraped knee afterward, about her playing with dolls and him having to change his voice to be in character. He talks about the car rides back home after soccer matches and how Gabriella would be filled with energy the first fifteen minutes before she passed out asleep, exhausted from the game and her excitement from winning. He tells you so much than the last time. So much more, that you feel like you knew Gabriella yourself. You smile tenderly as Miguel talks about her in a way that just enforces how great of a father he was.

It's a while later when the two of you get up from the floor. You help him clean up, despite his protests. The two of you stand in front of the ofrenda for a few minutes, in silence afterward. You finally turn your head towards him, looking up at him. He notices and looks down at you, meeting your gaze.

“Thank you. I know this isn’t easy,” you say quietly, and he nods slowly.

You wish you could say more. Again, you feel that rush of emotions for this man. You wish you could tell him that he deserves happiness. That he deserves so much more…

“Thank you for coming,” he replies, and you nod with a small smile because you feel that that’s the only thing you can do.

You fall into silence again for a few seconds before you sigh softly.

“I should probably head back now,” you say, looking down at your gizmo to check the time.

Miguel also checks his gizmo, surprised. It’s very late. When he finished setting up the ofrenda and was ready to travel to your universe to invite you, he had no intention of keeping you up this late. He thought it would be an hour or so. Instead, the two of you have spent the last three hours on the floor eating pan dulce and candy, with him talking and sharing details of his life.

For a brief moment, Miguel tries to imagine doing this with someone else. He can’t. No one else pops into his head, for the two of you speak so differently when you are alone. You understand each other.

Miguel finally nods. “I didn’t realize how late it is. I’m sorry for keeping you up.”

You shake your head with a smile. “Don’t apologize. As I said, I was going to stay up to do some chores but…” you trail off and try to put your thoughts together without them coming off wrong. You want to say that you much prefer this. Spending time with him. Keeping each other company. How can you say that without it coming off wrong? You look away from his gaze for a few seconds, trying to think of how to word this and simply having no idea how to do so without giving the wrong impression. You shake your head softly at yourself, feeling silly for being unable to pull your thoughts together. You meet his eyes again, which have been on you this whole time. Miguel can see that you’re struggling to find a way to say what’s on your mind. It makes him want to know even more what you’re thinking.

“What I’m trying to say is that – I’m here,” you finally say and immediately feel like that was not the best way to say it, but it is also not the worst. “I’m here – for you.”

And I don’t mind stopping what I’m doing to be there for you, you silently think but can’t voice that part out loud.

Miguel stares down at you, your words echoing in his head. You’re here… for him. And he knows you mean it as your eyes meet. Miguel gives you a soft nod, his eyes show appreciation.

“Thank you…” he says, with a warm feeling in his chest.

You nod and give him another smile, seeing that appreciative look in his eyes. That will have to do. Maybe in the future you can say more but for tonight, that will have to do.

Miguel wants to say the same to you, but he can’t. The words get caught in his throat. He looks at the plastic bags from earlier. He pulls out two chocolate lollipops and some of the other candy he saw you liked the most, not fully realizing that he perfectly remembers this information. He looks at the bag with pan dulce. There are only two pieces of bread left. He extends his arms, offering you the bag with bread and the candy. It’s his own way of reciprocating your words to him. You look up at him, a little surprised.

“Oh, thank you but you don’t have to do that,” you say not making a move to take the items.

He looks down at you. “I insist… please,” he says quietly with a firm yet breathy tone.

Noticing his tone, you nod slowly and take the items from his hands gently. Your bare fingers brush his suited palm and fingers as you take the individual pieces of candy. The sensation is almost ticklish to Miguel’s palm, but he keeps his hand steady. Once you have everything in your hands, you look up at him again and smile.

“There was no need for this but thank you.”

Miguel nods, wishing he could’ve done this on top of reciprocating your words. Maybe another time.

“I hope you enjoy the other pieces of bread,” he says softly.

“I have no doubt I will,” you reply, still smiling. There’s a few seconds of silence between the two of you before you speak again. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you again… for everything.”

Miguel nods. “Thank you. I’ll see you later today,” he replies remembering it’s already early morning.

You nod one more time at him before you turn your eyes to the ofrenda. Your eyes fall on each photograph, and you say a silent goodbye to them. You don’t celebrate but you hope that they came to see Miguel tonight.

“Good night,” you finally say.

“Good night,” Miguel replies before you walk around the platform. Miguel remains standing in front of his ofrenda. He hears the multidimensional portal open nearby and then it’s quiet again. His eyes fall on each photograph, the flickering candles casting dancing shadows on his loved ones’ faces. He stands there for a few minutes, quietly thinking before he breaks the silence in his empty lab.

“I’m here for you, too...”

_________________

Translation for italicized words: Dia de los Muertos - Day of the Dead Ofrenda - Altar for Day of the Death Pan Dulce - Sweet Bread (Mexican pastries) "Perdóname, mija" - "Forgive me, my daughter." Mija(o) is a combination of "Mi" and "Hija(o)"

For the other italicized food items mentioned by Miguel from his childhood and items described on Gabriella's ofrenda, you can find a food guide right here that I quickly put together.

--

Ok, so I just want to say sorry for the freaking LONG update. My jaw dropped when I checked the word count once I was done editing (no wonder it took me so long). I don't think any other part will be this long. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and that if you love autumn (like me) this brought you comfort. I'm done with this summer heat 😭

I also want to ask how would you guys feel about a short Christmas part? It wouldn't be super long but I thought of Miguel in Christmas time and I just - Imagine Miguel in a chunky cable knit turtle neck sweater!! (Screaming, crying) If not, it's okay. I already have the "next" part mapped out and... I'm not well thinking about it.

As always, thank you for the support. For the lovely comments and asks. Reading them makes me so happy. Thank you 🥹

I love Miguel,

Alondra

Tag list:

@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 @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @mandodinstuff @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes

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

[writers-potion]

Writing Toxic Parents

They are Manipulative.

Guilt and shame are their two most beloved tools here.

Because they are emotionally precarious, they know exactly how to put someone on the hook.

They hold time, money, friendships or other items as pawns and batter the child's self-esteem to submission.

They may try to gain control by being overly critical of the child's decisions, even as an adult.

They are Abusive.

Abuse doesn't have to be hitting, yelling, threats or something totally obvious.

More subtle forms of abuse like name-calling, shifting blame, silent treatment or gaslighting are equally damaging.

Many parenting strategies like grounding, restricting TV time, or having curfew can turn into abuse if applied excessively and forcefully; often with the intention of making the parent satisfied that they've "taught" the child something.

They Have No Boundaries.

This can manifest in various forms. It may be the parents pushing their child into a specific way of life for self-satisfaction.

It can be the parents projecting their inner insecurities onto their child, like how almond moms underfeed their children "for their own good".

The child in this case may tire from their intrusive tactics (which often continues into early adulthood) and simply give in out of frustration or exhaustion.

Here's a list of questions to determine whether your protagonist has a toxic parent(s):

Are they told they're constantly bad?

Are they forced to care for their parents at a young age?

Are they scared to show their anger or frustration to parents?

Do they keep secrets from their friends about what happens at home?

Do they just feel they will never live up to their parent's expectations?

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee! ☕

Reference: <Write Great Fiction: Plot and Structure (techniques and exercises for craftin a plot that grips readers from start to finish)> by James Scott Bell

#writer #writers #creative writing #writing #writing community #writers of tumblr #creative writers #writing inspiration #writeblr #writing tips #writers corner #writers community #poets and writers #writing advice #writing resources #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #helping writers #writing help #writing tips and tricks #how to write #writing life #let's write #resources for writers #references for writers

[megistusdiary]

getting high for the first time w 2000s!arlecchino 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

you're the innocent type, you've never really been into anything too out of the ordinary, only having had alcohol a handful of times, let alone being drunk.

you're happy that way, until one of your friends drags you into the hot topic store, and you really aren't into it until you see the shop assistant. if the nonchalant look on her face didn't catch your attention enough, the striking features it was painted on most definitely did.

since then you've been taking any excuse to go back to the store and see her again, even buying items you don't want just so you can go back to return them.

eventually she strikes up a conversation with you, and you're too shocked to even work up a response, but somehow, you start to talk with her more, and slowly begin a friendship of sorts.

one day, you ask her "hey, can I get high with you, I've never done it before, so could you do it with me?"

at first, she was completely stunned, she never imagined someone so... so sweet, would be interested in doing that, but she couldn't deny she was flattered you trusted her to be your first time. she was also rather excited, she had had her eye on you for a while now, and seeing this side of you only made her all the more excited to think of what else she could be your first time for.

when it actually happens though, it's more than she ever imagined. your long lashes fluttering half lidded over your now reddened eyes, and that glossy look you're giving her. you're more touchy than you ever usually dare to be, and when you lean in, who is she to deny you?

in conclusion, I am completely and utterly feral. someone needs to call animal control 😭😭

YOU COOKED HELLO??? THIS IS SOMETHING I TOLD BUN ABOUT AND I WAS LIKE "imagine getting high with her" THEN THIS SHOWED UPPP

i like to think she'd take you back to her place, let you get comfy on her bed/couch and smoke with her

but... consider shotgunning!!!

her larger hands cradling the back of your head while she takes a long drag and then breathes the smoke into your mouth for you omg

lipstick is left on your lips and skin as she pulls away, and she wipes it messily with her thumb, only smearing it further

you get giggly and touchy when you're high, and who is she to deny you when you climb into her lap? when your hands slide up to her neck, holding her face and demanding another kiss full of smoke and tongue? how could she say no?

also, all arlecchinos in any universe come built in with a corruption kink, i don't make the rules.

she loveeees watching a good girl make bad decisions for her. 😚😚

#genshin smut #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #fem reader #genshin wlw #arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino genshin #arlecchino #arlecchino x you #💌─𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘭! ༊*·˚ #genshin impact smut #🪷─𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴 `♡´ #suggestive

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

+1 Chance | Short/Oneshot

In which some people get an extra life.

Tags/Warnings: pro Esports!Kook, Teenage crushes to ???, SFW, Short, Open ending, all around fluffy

Length: 2.2k Words

A/N: Yes I'm still writing on existing stuff dw. Just a random valentines day drabble. Not proofread.

—--——--——--——--——--🩷--——--——--——--——--—

You met Jungkook in summer, many years ago, when the sun was hot and your friends turned out to be nothing but situationships.

You’d been seeing the hints of their friendship not being of honest nature for a while now- but as a young girl barely about to graduate a year later, you didn’t want to be alone during your allegedly best years of your life. So you ignored the warnings one after another, always found excuses as to why their behavior was totally justifiable and normal, even if deep down you knew that you were just trying to convince yourself of that.

And then, you met him- a guy showing you honest kindness for nothing asked in return.

It was hot, sun burning, and you’d tried to get out the pool- but your small strawberry floaty had kept slipping from underneath you, making it hard to find the strength to get out of the large pool in your ‘friend’s’ backyard by yourself- when suddenly, a hand had grabbed the red item to keep it still, so you could properly hold onto it for a moment.

“Here- let me help.” He’d said, black nail polish chipped. And you’d taken on the help, too tired to really care about the fact that your friend had told you to just ignore her brother’s ‘weirdo friends’- him clearly being one of them. “Want me to help you get out? The sun is pretty hot right now, you should get out soon.” He had worried a little, and you'd nodded, pushing yourself up on the ledge after having let go of the floaty, finally having been able to escape the pool with his help, as he made sure you wouldn’t slip or end up back inside because of your strength leaving you.

You weren’t sure back then where your friends even were at that point. But somehow, it was like a moment of realization- a clear sign you couldn’t ignore any longer. “your uh.. friends went to watch a movie upstairs now, in Kate’s room..” he says, watching you sit down in the shade, drying yourself with a towel you brought.

“..thanks.” you’d mumbled. “I.. Probably should go home now.” You’d shrugged, feeling ashamed and embarrassed to ever having trusted these people at all. All they did was use your kindness and clear need for just someone to talk to and befriend- and you’d willingly accepted that, blinded by the glimpses of happiness they’d made you feel every now and then.

They knew how to manipulate you- keep you happy and clingy enough with occasional treats never given too often.

“I mean.. I can drive you. It’s late.” Jungkook had offered you. “But we’re also missing a fourth player for mario-cart right now, down in Kate’s brother’s room.” He’d jokingly told you- something that had given you hope.

“..but won’t it be weird?” You’d worried. “They don’t know me.”

“Well, everyone’s a stranger when you first meet them.” Jungkook had laughed, as he gave you a towel from close by, both of you having slowly walked back into the house. “I’m Jungkook. Just in case you didn’t know. “ He’d introduced himself, smiling like he’s the sun itself.

And little did you know that on that day, as you gave him your name, you both also set the foundation for much more than just a friendship.

—--——--——--——--——--🩷--——--——--——--——--—

“So you two have history?” Your friend asks, sitting across from you on your hotel room floor, both of you occupied with making sure your freshly applied nail polish dries well. You’re on a weekend trip for just the two of you, to take some time off the stressful life and to nourish your friendship a little.

“Not really.” You shrug. “I wouldn’t call it that. More so.. An awkward friendship when I was younger, before I moved away.” You answer, explaining your situation as to why Jeon Jungkook, one of the current top e-sports players had greeted you when you randomly ran into each other today in the hotel hallway.

“Oh, so he was the guy you had a crush on when you were younger?” She teases, never forgetting anything it seems like- not even a random confession during a childish game of never-have-I-ever. “I knew it. Damn, you were so close! Imagine your life if you’d bagged that guy.” She swoons, having made it known time and time again that she wouldn’t pass up any opportunity to ‘get her hands on those abs’ if she ever had the chance to do so. You know this is simply a joke, but still, her words do make you think.

How would your life have turned out if you got with him?

Would he have chosen to go against his parents’ advice to just keep his hobby as, well, a hobby, or would he have accepted their wishes to instead study something more steady, to earn a position in a stable company? You’ll never know- but despite that, its still interesting to just humor that idea for a moment.

“Hey, maybe there’s still tickets for the tournament!” Your friend chirps up, having noticed her nailpolish having dried by now, phone fetched and disconnected from the charger as she swipes and inputs her passcode to unlock it. “Or I’ll ask if we can have my brother’s tickets, since he didn’t go..” She mumbles, texting him most likely now.

“It’s.. I don’t know, we wanted to go out for dinner though.” You mumble, checking your polish for any imperfections. “You don’t even like gaming that much.” You also add, teasingly so. She rolls her eyes.

“Just cause I don’t play them, doesn’t mean I cant enjoy watching someone play them instead.” She argues. “Also, you can watch the game- I'll watch the pretty boy.” She winks, making you laugh with her, when she receives a text, phone falling out of her hand for a second before she can pick it up again. “Oh- he said we can have them!” She chirps up, clearly excited. “As far as I know they’re free seating- so if we’re early, we get to choose where we wanna sit and watch.” She explains, texting him some more while you contemplate.

This is dumb. He probably has a girlfriend, a life of his own, hell- you have a life of your own now, far away from him. There’s no reason for you to try and test your luck like this, but you’re also a fan of the game he’s competing at. So, maybe..

Yeah. You’re totally not doing it for him. You’re just going to watch the gameplay.

What’s the worst that can happen?

—--——--——--——--——--🩷--——--——--——--——--—

It’s not even the next day yet, but you already see him again.

On your way down to the reception desk, mission clear in your head to muster up the courage to ask for another pillow instead of sleeping uncomfortably like this, you’ve barely exited your room when your eyes meet again in the hallway.

He says your name. His voice has gotten deeper after all those years, you notice. You nod, and he smiles, the turn of the corner of his mouth pulling your attention to the twin piercing he has placed there, silver rings piercing right through his skin. “It’s been a while.” He offers, hands in the pockets of his pants. He must’ve been out with his teammates, smell of faint cigarette smoke clinging to him as you walk a bit closer.

You nod. You feel awkward, all dressed down like this, having gotten reader for bed hours before, trying to find sleep without the extra comfort another pillow would bring you. “how are you?” He asks, and again, you nod.

You hate this. You’re still terrible at talking to people. “I’m good.. and you?” You answer, avoiding eye contact. Of course he’s obviously doing good- great even, about to bag thousands of prize money tomorrow when he’ll surely win the tournament.

“Good. Great even, now that I.. anyways, do.. What’re you doing here?” He wonders, clearly happy to initiate smalltalk. “vacation or work?”

“vacation. With.. a friend of mine.” You tell him, toes digging onto the fluffy slippers you brought on this trip for yourself. “like.. a girl’s weekend.” You explain, and he nods.

“Yeah.. guess you gotta leave the men at home sometimes to unwind.” He jokes.

“hmhm. Well, she had to- I don’t, you know, have anyone, so I’m flexible.” You tell him, and that seems to make his eyes sparkle almost like you’ve challenged him. Which you didn’t- so why does he look so energized now.

“Cool! I mean.. yeah.” He nods to himself, before he seems to realize something. “Oh hey, if I interrupted you or I’m holding you in a conversation, don’t mind me! You look like you were on your way somewhere-“ he starts, pointing down the gall to the elevator. “But uh.. if you wanna go down, there’s a bunch of drunks down in the lobby, just a warning.” He offers, making you deflate.

“Oh.” You hum, defeated. Well, maybe you cal roll up your sweater or something.

“If you.. I can go with you, if you’d like.” He offers. "I’m still pretty fit. Still boxing. So.. I can be your meat-shield basically.” He jokes, making you giggle, his eyes brightening up at the sound and sight.

“I.. that would be nice, actually.” You accept, and he happily walks next to you into the elevator at that, faint music drowning our the heavy buzzing of the mechanics.

“so uh.. how’s your family?” He wonders. “is your dad still making your mom’s life harder every day?” He jokes, but you shake your head, smiling fondly.

“No, they surprisingly settled these days. They’re.. on a trip themselves. For valentines day and all.” You explain, and Jungkook nods.

“romantic.” He teases, and you giggle, nodding along.

“they.. ask about you a lot. It’s kind of funny.” You tell him. “I can only ever tell them what I see online though.” You shrug.

“You.. know what I do?” he wonders, and your eyes widen as you look at him.

“are you kidding me? You’re the top player at my favorite game.” You say, making his expression moron into one of both wonder- and slightly bashful.

“I uh.. didn’t know. Guess I’ll take that as a compliment.” He laughs it off. “I.. have a tournament actually, tomorrow.”

“I know.” You nod, elevator doors opening. “I’ll be there. With my friend.” You say.

“Oh wow.” He chuckles. “I better win, in that case.” He.. flirts? As he walks towards the reception desk with you- drunk group of friends luckily only being loud, but not aggressive. “where will you sit?”

“its.. free seating, so I’m not sure.” You mumble, before you ask the lady at the desk for another pillow for your room number.

“I could probably reserve some good seats.” He says, and you smile.

“You really don’t have to.” You reassure him, when he suddenly asks the lady for something else as well- a flower from the last bouquet left over from the hotel’s valentines sale for the guests. She happily gives it to him, free of charge, before she tells you that housekeeping will bring you the pillow shortly, before she resumes her own work again, letting you and Jungkook walk back into the elevator.

You’re not sure what you think of this- but junkook has liked flowers back then, so why wouldn’t he still like flowers now. Or, maybe he’s staying here with his girlfriend, and he’s just wanting to gift her something on his way back to her- it’s valentines day, after all.

“I’ll.. can I have your number? To text you where you’ll sit tomorrow.” He asks, and you nod, walking into your room to fetch your phone, showing your number for him to type into his own, screen cracked a little in one corner. “awesome. Now then, the only thing I gotta do is..-“ he starts, slipping the phone in the pocket of his pants. “-ask you to be my valentine?” He wonders, holding the flower out to you. "Don’t have to say yes. I’m a big boy, I can take rejection.” He jokes.

“Can I.. ask why?” You wonder, and he grins, shrugging.

“I feel like, maybe the universe is trying to tell me something.” He simply answers. “..giving me a second chance, to ask you out for real this time.”

“wait.. you mean-“ you stammer, and he nods.

“I had.. kind of a huge crush on you back then. And, seeing you again.. it all just.. flared up again. Exactly the same way.” He confesses. “I’m not.. asking for something big. Just one date- and we’ll go from there.” He asks, and you slowly take the flower from him, smile on your lips as you think about his words. Fate, huh? A universe’s second chance? What are the chances?

You decide you don’t care.

“okay.” You answer him,-

And his eyes sparkle brightly, while he smiles at you like you’re the sun.

—--——--——--——--——--🩷--——--——--——--——--—i

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