#Hispanic Y/N

[moonkake-143]

𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡 | What's Said is Said

Goblin King!Eddie X AFAB/Fem!Henderson Reader

Edited by the lovely: Jen

(please go and check out her stuff its amazing and without her you wouldn't be reading this right now.)

Content: Slow-burn, one-sided pining from Eddie, love at first sight, angst, swearing, minor injury, blood, minimal to no use of Y/n

Summary: You never believed the story you told your little brother would end up becoming a reality, so when a mysterious man named Eddie claims to be the Goblin King after your brother goes missing, you can't help but be skeptical- but he's handsome, and you can't help but fall under his spell. One thing is for sure, though- you need to find Dustin, no matter the cost.

A/n: This will most likely be the only time I put one of these at the start of the fic. But the start of this is FINALLY here, I'm sorry it took so long to come out me and my editor have been busy and only recently have we gained some free time to finish this chapter. This idea has been on my mind for months and I can't wait for you all to dive into this 80s Labyrinth inspired fic!!

Chapter 1/? {wc: 3.8k}

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

        Hawkins, Indiana was no stranger to bats, especially around fall, so you paid no mind to the one that flew over your head, hanging from the very tree you relaxed under. Lover's Lake was always popular at sundown, but when the sky was still painted blue and the stars had yet to say hello, it was your secret spot, especially when you wanted to escape for a few hours to read. Your current interest was a red leather-bound book that comfortably rested between your hands.

        The title had faded from the cover, but the first page named it The Labyrinth- it was a mysterious novel with no author listed. You had saved it from the depths of your local thrift store where it had collected dust, begging for you to take it home, beckoning you to uncover its secrets. In your free time, you had thrown yourself into the book, unaware of how long you had spent underneath the tree with Dart, your golden retriever, who lay quietly beside you.

        “Give me the child.” Your words carried along the wind as you read, with theatrics fit for a proper dungeon master. At the sound of your voice, Dart’s ears perked up and he tilted his head. His wagging tail gently thumped against the dirt, mixing with the sound of small waves lapping against the bank.

        “Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City, to take back the child that you have stolen.”

        You turned the faded yellow page, a small smile gracing your features as Dart sat up, giving you his full attention.

        “For my will is as strong as yours, and my heart as great.”

        As if listening intently to your story, the bat hung silently overhead, its ears twitching.

        “For you will never have power over me…”

        Before you could finish the scene, a roar of thunder shook the ground, causing you to jump and shut the book with a loud thud. Dark grey clouds littered the once-blue sky, the air heavy and humid.

        The bat which had hung over you flew away, and Dart gave chase, barking in its direction.

        “Dart!” You shouted.

        Shoving the book into your bag, you bolted up from your place under the tree, your fantasy fading as you brushed the dirt from your jeans. As if the rumbling thunder and barking dog weren’t enough, your wristwatch let out a beep that was all too familiar.

        “Shit! Come on, Dart! Mom’s gonna be so pissed!”

        You pulled your bike up from the side of the tree, hopping onto the seat and peddling away. Letting out one last howl as the bat disappeared into the branches, Dart turned to run after you, and before you could even curse the sky, the rain came pouring down.

        Peddling as fast as your legs could manage, you made it into town, turning sharp corners and crossing streets, taking as many shortcuts between houses and through back-alleys as possible to avoid the downpour.

        By the time you had made it to your street and turned into your driveway, you and Dart were thoroughly soaked. Ditching your bike, you followed Dart as he ran into the garage, furiously shaking the water from his fur. Trying to catch your breath, you wiped the rain from your face, your wet clothes clinging to you uncomfortably.

        Closing the garage, you left Dart there to warm up, letting yourself inside to escape the dreary cold. Despite the warmth of the house, you shivered as your doting mother came to greet you, holding your fussy three-year-old little brother.

        “Dustin, look who's here!" She chirped. "Only twenty minutes late!”

        “I know, Mom. I’m sorry, okay?” You huffed, kicking off your wet shoes and socks. “…Put him down so he can walk- you need to stop babying him.”

        “You know I rarely get to go out with the girls…and he's still my little Dusty-Bun.”

        “You go out all the time! I’m always stuck babysitting!”

        “You know I only have you babysit when it doesn't interfere with your plans.” Your mother’s beloved ginger cat, Mews, rubbed against her leg as she held Dustin, who looked between the two of you with interest, his blue eyes staring you down.

        “Well, you didn't even ask!”

        “I assumed you would tell me if you did! I’d like you to have plans, really! You should be going out and having fun at your age- maybe meeting a boy!”

        Pushing past her, you grabbed a towel from the bathroom and stalked to your room, slamming the door shut. Everything was so infuriating. When you pulled your book out, you found that it had gotten wet, and with a huff, you threw your bag into your desk chair. Shivering, you wrung the water from your hair, quickly changing out of your soaked jeans and sweater, and into something warm and more comfortable.

        Wrapping the towel around your shoulders to catch the water still dripping from your hair, you flopped into bed, shutting your eyes and soaking in the rare quietness as raindrops pelted the window. It was nice to be left alone.

        But good things don't last, and your illusion of silence shattered when your mother eventually pushed the door open, her honey blonde hair meticulously curled, with makeup swiped on with precision, and that dress. It sparkled and shined, catching your eye the moment she walked in. It was like you were four again and watching her get ready to go out, trying on different pairs of heels as your dad struggled with his necktie.

        But you remember that you're almost nineteen now and your dad left- he left you and your pregnant mother for a woman half her age. You shook your head, trying to forget those memories, and when you finally tuned back in, your mother was at the end of her usual speech.

        “-back by midnight, I already fed Dustin and put him in his playpen. Make sure to tuck him in, alright? You know he's still scared of thunder. I love you…both of you.”

        The older woman was closer to you then you realized as she leaned down to kiss your forehead, though she left the room quickly, her high heels muffled by the carpeted halls. You heard her walk to the garage, start the car, and disappear into the evening, leaving you alone with your little brother.

        Letting out a frustrated sigh, you went looking for a hairdryer, laying your poor book across your desk and peeling the damp pages apart. Finding your mother's on the bathroom counter, you plugged it into the wall and with a whir, began wafting hot air over the wet book, hoping it wasn't too badly damaged.

        A sudden clap of thunder shook the house, and as you jumped, Dustin shrieked at the top of his lungs. The cry was ear-piercing and nearly drowned out the roar of the hairdryer- you could hardly hear yourself think.

        With a frustrated groan, you switched it off, stomping to the living room. Dustin's playpen sat in the corner, filled with colorful plastic toys and stuffed animals that had once been yours. He stood at the edge of the pen with outstretched arms, red-faced and wailing your name as tears poured down his cheeks, his blanket laying forgotten on the ground.

        Clicking your tongue, you gently picked Dustin up and carried him to your mother's room, with Mews silently watching from the sofa. He clung to you for dear life, his cries shattering your eardrums as another crack of thunder rang out.

        “Come on Dustin, stop crying! You're a big boy now, you can't be afraid of thunder!” Your voice was stern, which only seemed to make him wail louder, snot dripping from his nose.

        Sitting him on his racecar bed, you grabbed a tissue box from your mother's nightstand. Wiping his face, you made him blow his nose, your patience wearing thin as the tears kept coming. After disposing of the tissues, you tucked him under his blanket, sitting on the edge of his bed.

        “Fine, do you want a story?!”

        Sniffling, Dustin nodded, his small hands tightly gripping the blanket.

        “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young girl whose mother always made her stay home with the baby. The baby was a spoiled child and had everything for himself, so the girl was practically forgotten.”

        Thunder roared and a flash of lightning illuminated the room, making Dustin bolt upright, his eyes glassy and full of fear.

        “But what no one knew was that the King of Goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and she too had fallen for him, granting her certain powers.” You waved your hands for effect, trying to distract him.

        A crash of thunder rang out, and Dustin whined fearfully, still sniffling.

        “So one night, when the child had been left to his older sister, she called upon the goblins for help…”

        “Listen!” The nest stirred- they were all awake now, eyes wide and ears pointed in her direction.

        “Wha happen?” Dustin lisped in a small voice, his hand reaching for yours and gripping it tightly.

        “'Say your right words,' the goblins said, 'and we shall take the baby to the Goblin City and you…will be free.'”

        The goblins gasped, their crazed red eyes staring at you from their disgusting nest in the Goblin King’s manor. Some had horns, others had sharp teeth, and some were dressed in remnants of armor, but they all had malevolent eyes, their ears prickling with excitement. They could feel the words that you wished to say but could not voice, felt the meaning, the anger, in the desire.

        “But the girl knew that the Goblin King would keep the baby in his castle forever and ever, turning him into a goblin- and so she suffered in silence.”

        “Isth da king evil?”

        “I don’t know, Dustin…but he loved the girl endlessly." You tucked him in again. "With a heavy heart, he watched the girl endure torture for months- until one day, after coming home from meeting with the Goblin King did she suffer cruel and harsh words from her mother. Ungrateful she was for raising her son, the young girl could bear it no longer...”

        Your voice fell into a mere whisper, and Dustin's brown curls fell against the pillow, his eyelids struggling to stay open.

        The rain pattered against the window, and you sighed when the boy finally let go of your hand, breathing softly and evenly as his arm fell to his side. Just as you had begun to stand, the silence disappeared with a sudden strike of thunder, and Dustin's eyes shot open in terror. He screamed, desperately clinging to you as tears welled up in his eyes again.

        “Hey, it's okay!”

        You could hear Dart barking from the garage as you stood up, wrapping your arms around Dustin. Pacing the room, you hummed a melody to try and calm his frustrating cries, but he dug his face into your shoulder, soaking it with tears.

        “Come on Dustin, stop it!” Your words came out fierce, yet your actions showed otherwise.

        “It’s scawy!”

        “I know it's scary, but you're a big boy, aren't you? You need to fight the fear.”

        You tried to shush him, rocking him back and forth just like you did when he was a newborn, only he was heavier now.

        “Dustin, please be quiet…or I’ll say the words.” You looked away from him, your voice lowered.

        “Wha words...?” He sniffled.

        “I wish...no, I can't...I shouldn't..."

        “Everyone, wake up! Listen!” Every eye, every ear and every goblin was awake now.

        “Is she going to say it?!” An excited goblin asked.

        “If you would shut up, I could find out!”

        “Who are you telling to shut up?!”

        “Both of you- quiet!” Another goblin smacked the bickering pair in the head.

        Dustin hiccupped, and when another roar of thunder shook the house- the loudest of them all- did his wails reach the highest of decibels. He trembled frightfully, tears streaming down his bright red cheeks as he clung to you for dear life, burying his face in your shoulder. With a defeated demeanor, you cried out in mock sacrifice, quoting the story.

        “I can bear it no longer! Goblin King, Goblin King, wherever you may be, come and take this child far away from me!”

        “No! Don take me! I be good! Pinky!” He promised.

        “Oh, that's not it!” The goblins let out crestfallen sighs.

        “It didn't even start with ‘I wish’...”

        You clicked your tongue and cuddled him, shaking your head.

        “Oh stop it, you little gremlin- nothing will come get you. But the girl cried…Oh, I wish…I wish...”

        You knew the words but couldn't bear to say them. Anger, jealousy, and sadness filled your thoughts as you looked at your younger brother; the child which you raised, the one that stole the best years of your adolescence from you. His crying slowly ceased and his breath calmed as you held him, the weight on your shoulder heavy. He was some form of asleep, at least for now.

        With a weary sigh, you put Dustin back to bed, gently tucking him under the blanket. As the downpour became a light rain, your mind wandered to your true thoughts- the ones the goblins could clearly see.

        “I wish I could say the words to let the goblins take you away…” You muttered, grateful for the boy's soft snores that covered your frightful words.

        One goblin let out an annoyed huff, trying to spell it out for you.

        “‘I wish the goblins would take you away right now.’ Not so hard, now is it?”

        Rubbing your temples, you headed towards the door.

        The goblins watched tensely, biting their nails with chattering teeth.

        “Did she say it?” A large, dense goblin suddenly asked.

        “Shut up!" They yelled in unison.

        A sudden clap of thunder rang out, causing you to jump. Behind you, Dustin screamed in fright, crying once more, wailing for you- all your hard work wasted.

        Gripping the doorknob, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, saying the wish you had never thought you would utter aloud.

        “I wish the goblins would come and take you away…” Standing in the doorway, you heard his wails hush once again.

        The goblins were so quiet they could hear a pin drop in their nest.

        “...Right now.”

        The door shut behind you, the clouds letting out a final battle cry before plunging the house into complete silence. There were no more cracks of thunder, the rain had stopped, and you didn't hear Dustin anymore.

        As you stood outside the room, you began to worry.

        You flung open the door, eyes darting around your mother’s dark bedroom. It was silent. No whine, no cry, and no calling of your name in the midst of a frightful thunderstorm. You hurried into the room, panic overtaking your features as you pulled back Dustin’s bedsheets, your heart sinking.

        Nothing. He was gone.

        “Dustin?! Come out, this isn't funny!”

        But there was no answer- not from your brother, at least.

        The sound of laughter rang out as something scurried around the room, the closet door slamming open and shut. You spun in its direction. Nothing was there. From the corner of your eye, you saw something crawl under the sheets of your mother's bed, but when you turned to look, it had disappeared into the floor. Your fear only escalated.

        “Dustin! Where are you?!”

        The high-pitched laughter only grew louder as you panicked, anxiety coursing through your veins as you spun around the room, your heart racing in your chest. The wind raged outside as you searched for your little brother, head spinning and eyes whirling. The window panes shook and clattered, a bat slamming against the glass over and over again. You felt ready to pass out. There was too much going on.

        With a roar of thunder, the window shattered. Gasping, you shielding your face from the burst of glass shards that now littered the carpet, the raging wind chilling you to your core. You heard the flapping of wings from somewhere in the room, and when you lowered your arms, you saw the bat. It dropped to the floor in a puff of thick smoke, growing and contorting into a towering figure. Your heart stopped.

        “Jeez, took you long enough to call for me! I thought I would have to meddle a bit more.” The voice was manly, cheery, and full of mirth, the chuckle turning into a bodacious laugh.

        Fear encompassed your body as you stumbled back, tripping over a giggling goblin and falling backwards onto the carpet. A stinging pain sliced through your hands as you landed on shards of glass, but all you could do was stare up at him with wide eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

        The man was captivating, with round brown eyes that seemed almost hungry, and dark hair that framed his angular face, falling around his shoulders in loose curls. His outfit resembled something out of a Renaissance fair, with a flared poet shirt and corset, his dark pants tucked into tall lace-up boots. The long velvet cape over his shoulders sparkled and shined like the night, as if the very stars had been woven into it, extravagantly fluttering in the wind that blew through the broken window.

        “...Where is he?” You found your voice, hands trembling slightly as they balled into bloody fists.

        “Where is who?”

        “My little brother!”

        Stepping closer, the man leaned down to your level. On closer inspection, he had freckles and a fanged grin- his teeth were sharper than any human's. You glared and forced a fire to your eyes, but his held no malice as he looked you over, his gaze landing on your trembling hands.

        “Who are you?! What have you done with Dustin?!” You demanded.

        His hands seized yours and you hissed in pain, the smell of iron hitting you as he held them up, his intense eyes seeming to sparkle. You winced at the sight of the injury- glass bits were embedded into your palms and a large gash ran through the center of your left hand, blood oozing from it.

        The man gently cupped your hands, passing his fingers over the wounds with dark, concentrated eyes. The throbbing pain dissipated as you recoiled, staring down at your injured palms. Before your very eyes, the glass in them crumbled into into sand, disappearing before the grains could hit the floor, and the blood seemed to flow back into your cuts, your skin sealing itself shut.

        Shock, confusion, and panic overtook you as you began to hyperventilate, your heart pounding. How could this be? You felt the glass pierce your hands, you smelled the blood- but not even a scar had been left behind.

        You quivered, hyperaware of how close this man was to you and how he definitely wasn't human.

        “Who are you!? What are you?!”

        “Me? I’m Eddie! You should already know that much, since you're the one who invited me here! I’ve been waiting ages for your call!”

        “Invited? My call?” You stammered. “…No…you’re the Goblin King...?!”

        “The one and only!”

        “No! It was a mistake! I was only telling a story- I didn't mean it! Bring him back!” You scrambled to your feet, shoving Eddie with newfound courageous force. He stumbled, his eyebrows scrunched as he held his ground, dusting off his cape.

        “My dear, what’s said is said- you're the one who wished him away. Story or not, it was in your heart.”

        “But I didn’t mean it! Please give him back!”

        “I’m afraid I can’t do that, but I brought you something better!”

        Eddie plucked a crystal ball out of thin air, its glass catching the glimmering rays of the faded moonlight.

        “Look into it, tell it your deepest wish, and your dreams will come true. Forget about the baby~” The crystal shimmered as it called you, beckoning for you to take it.

        “All my dreams?” You reached out with a slight tremor, your voice soft.

        “Yes, all of them.”

        Blinking, you froze, fingers mere inches from the crystal- how could you forget Dustin? Dustin, your little brother, who was probably terrified, was all alone somewhere far, and here you were ready to forget him. How could you think such a thing?

        “Where is he?! Tell me now!”

        You slapped away his outstretched hand, and the crystal orb tumbled to the ground. It shattered, and you gasped as a snake sprung from the fragments. Threatening to strike at your toes, you jumped from it, and the serpent slithered away into the darkness behind you, disappearing under your mother’s dresser.

        “Your brother is in my manor. If you wish to see him again, you will have to find your way through here.”

        Eddie stepped aside, the scenery outside the window changing from the dreary darkness of Hawkins to a bright landscape with rolling hills, covered in a lush green hedge labyrinth, and at the center lay a grand manor- it was like nothing that you had ever seen before. You stepped towards the window, and your mother's bedroom disappeared from around you.

        Where was this place?

        “I'm in the mood for a little game..." Eddie leaned in, his voice like honey in your ears. "If you do not reach your brother in the next, let's say thirteen hours, he'll remain here for eternity..." An ornate clock appeared behind Eddie, the hands moving before your very eyes. "...But if you can solve my labyrinth before time runs out, then the both of you may return home.”

        You flinched, your cheeks flushed from how close he had been.

        “So, what will you do?” He whispered the question like a prayer, his sparkling chocolate eyes drawing you in, drowning you- but you had to look away, eyeing the manor from your place on top of a grassy hill.

        “It doesn't look that far…” Your voice trailed off.

        He let out a laugh that warmed your very soul, the sound deep and rich, his grin sharp and toothy.

        “It’s farther than you think. But don’t fret- I shall benevolently monitor your progress, Miss Henderson- or should I call you…” He whispered your name as if it was a sin, his lips quipping into a smirk.

        Your eyes widened- you had never told him your name.

        “How did you-?”

        His eyes twinkled mysteriously, the clock chiming as it disappeared from thin air.

        “Good luck sweetheart, you're gonna need it!” With a gust of wind and the flutter of his cloak, Eddie vanished in a cloud of mist, his voice fading from your ears.

        You stared down at the manor, the labyrinth seeming more enormous than it had at first glance.

        But you had to get to the center and find Dustin- even if it meant encountering the peculiar Goblin King again.

        Fighting off a blush, you started walking.

Taglist: (if you want to be added or removed from the list let me know here!)

@sh0wthyself, @fracturedarkness 

[arminsesposa]

Tiempo de Posada (Hispanic reader x Katsuki Bakugo)

Tiempo de posada with ur bf !! I hope everyone has happy holidays and stay safe ! 🫶🏽

Imagine! You and Katsuki getting invited to a local posada as you guys dress up in layers of sweaters and scarfs. Katsuki knew and was very nervous about this.

Imagine! Katsuki feeling out of place as everyone greets and compliments you in Spanish, showing how happy they are to see you as their eyes suddenly turn to your boyfriend who immediately blushes red as they begin to crowd him. Now, beginning to inspect him.

Imagine! Katsuki who isn’t fluent in Spanish but understands what these grown señoras are telling you as they hand you each a candle to begin the posada. Katsuki wanting to glare at them as you immediately make sure he doesn’t get into any problems.

Imagine! Katsuki seeing how you sang along in Spanish to the prayers. Remembering how as you guys got ready to come, you explained the meaning it was for you and your culture. He smiled softly at you seeing how into it you were and the beautiful image of community as the group walked with candles lit in their hand to enter the home that the posada was being hosted.

Imagine! Katsuki holding your hand tightly as you lead the way to the table where you guys watch everyone eat and bond. Katsuki eating 2 bowls of pozole which he devoured. The older ladies around him complimenting you on how lucky you were to find a handsome boyfriend.

Imagine! You and Katsuki ending the night drinking champurrado and eating concha’s. Both of you watching the piñata get hit by the toddlers and kids, Katsuki happy to be apart of your tradition, as he wraps his arm around you and watch the fireworks.

[pupkashi]

volvi a nacer

gojo feels life start anew now that you’re by his side

a/n: hi hi friends ! this is heavily inspired by this song !! i think it’s so sweet and yeah <3 (unrelated but my bf sent me it i was geeking out for a week ok) ALSO GIGI (@4sat0ruu) I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS SO MUCH MY FELLOW LATINA 🙏🙏🙏; slightly latinx coded reader bc i can !

wordcount - 2,737

masterlist

translations: mi amor // my love, hermoso(a) // beautiful, mi corazon // my heart, cariño // sweetheart

there was time in gojo satoru’s life that he felt his life had essentially ended. he felt isolated, like no one would ever fill the void he felt in his chest.

he didn’t think he had anyone to lean on when he needed it, opting for a façade of cockiness and jokes when anyone asked if he was alright.

you saw through it all. with a concerned frown on your face as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him as tightly as you could and squeezing him.

“i don’t need your hugs, y/n,” he scoffed, hoping you didn’t hear the wobble in his voice, “I’m the strongest, i can take on anything by myself.”

“I’m sure you can, but you don’t have to,” you whispered, not letting go for a second. you heard the tremble in his breath, the hitch in his throat when he heard your next words, “I’m right here, you’ll be okay.”

for a split second satoru saw the world for all its warmth and love rather than its faults and challenges. he felt the love and support he’d only ever imagined, the suns warm rays hitting his skin as you held him tightly.

it faded as you pulled away, and he could hear nobara and yuji yelling in the distance, toge and yuta laughing at something.

“I’ll be here if you need me, okay?” you reassure him, your hand lingers on his shoulder for a bit before you walk away.

you’re only two steps away when you feel satoru gently grab your wrist, letting go not even a second after he did. when you turn to face him he looks shocked, as if he didn’t have control of his own body for a second.

“uh- can-” he stumbles over his words, not knowing exactly what to say and not exactly having the courage to say whatever they were.

“yeah, i can,” you smile softly, taking his hand in yours, “how about we get some food, when’s the last time you had actual food and not take out or sweets?” you question.

satoru rolls his eyes, scoffing before counting the days on his fingers, “it hasn’t been that long,” he mumbles, smiling a bit when you shake your head and laugh at him.

it’s been three years since then, somewhere along the way the line of caring friend and something more had been crossed, pinkies interlinking during movie night, a stolen kiss in a maintenance closet when hiding from an upset yaga.

he’s not exactly sure what’s making him reminisce on that day. maybe he’s recalling the way the sunshine felt on his skin, the way it does now as it pours in through the blinds, landing on his bare chest.

“you didn’t snore this time” you mumble, voice a bit hoarse as you wake up.

satoru grins, “I told you I’d stop,” you can’t help but half laugh, cuddling up to him more, “I’d do anything you ask of me sweets.”

“it’s 9 in the morning and you’re already professing your undying love?” you tease, just barely opening your eyes to look at your lover, who’s already staring right back at you, soft smile adorning his beautiful face.

“would do it all hours of the day if you’d let me,” he replies, not missing a beat. you can only chuckle softly, letting your head rest on his chest. your hair tickles him a bit but he ignores it, focusing on the way your index fingers draws random patterns on his abdomen.

satoru lets his mind wander, he thinks how lucky he is.

how lucky he was to be given a second chance at life, to be able to come back from a place so dark, to now be able to quite literally be bathed in sunlight and tender touches.

“where’d you go?” you whisper, adjusting yourself on your side and letting your arm prop you up. satoru is reeled back in, snowy lashes kissing his cheeks gently as he lays on his side to face you.

“thinking ‘bout how lucky i am,” he mumbles, staring at you for a second before a soft smile overtakes his lips, “I love you.” the words never fail to make you smile, you never miss a beat to respond, “i love you more, angel boy.”

“there isn’t anything i wouldn’t do for you, you know that right?” he’s focusing on the fuzz of the blanket rather than your eyes, looking up only when you hum in response.

“what if you have to fight off the most talented swordsman in the world for me?” you tease, he’s smiling at you as he sits up.

“then I’ll get a sword and do what i have to do to not lose you,” he answers like it’s the most simple thing in the world, “I’ve fought off worse haven’t i?” his cockiness makes you roll your eyes and chuckle, sitting up and kissing his cheek before stretching and finally getting out of bed.

“i guess so, you’re too strong for any of my hypotheticals,” you mumble, the taller man following you into the restroom, brushing your teeth together before heading into the living room.

“what do you want for breakfast?” satoru asks, his hands are already reaching for the ingredients for an omelette, recalling how you’d been craving one since last night but fell asleep as soon as you’d gotten home.

“what’s on the menu today, chef gojo?” you smile, moving from the couch to the kitchen bar, watching as he took out four eggs and various veggies and meats.

“how ‘bout that omelette you were dreaming of yesterday, sweetheart?” he’s grinning as he cracked an egg open with one hand over the bowl, a trick you’d taught him that took him the course of two cartons of eggs.

“you’re too perfect mi amor,” the words make his ears turn bright red, face flushed as he continues his fluid movements in the kitchen.

three years ago had someone told you the satoru gojo could make omelettes and crack eggs with one hand you would’ve laughed in their face, betting your life savings and then some against the snowy haired sorcerer.

yet here you are; three years, lots of broken eggs, burnt food and nights in the restroom later- you watch the love of your life make you an omelette.

the two of you eat breakfast over small talk, telling him of your plans for the day.

“I’ve gotta run some errands today, i hope traffic isn’t too bad” you trail off, mentally checking all the things you had to do.

“i can drive if you want,” he shrugs, chugging down the last bit of orange juice in his cup before grabbing your plate and placing them in the sink. “i don’t have anything else going on.”

you smile at your lover, “you don’t have to drive me around everywhere, you know that right?” satoru knew your distaste for being behind the wheel, he only saw it as an opportunity to pamper you and treat you like the royalty you were.

“i know, but i love driving you everywhere,” he grins, walking next to where you were seated and bending over to kiss your temple, “I’ll be your loyal chauffeur for as long as you’ll have me, hermosa.” the word is foreign on his tongue, it slips past his lips naturally, just the way you’d been teaching him common phrases.

“hermosa? who’d you learn that one from?” fighting the smile off your face was a predestined loss, barely hiding how over the moon you were at the new pet name. your words are teasing as you stand from the kitchen bar, stopping right in front of your lover, looking up at him.

“duolingo was hitting on me, actually,” satoru replies, a dimpled smile on his face when your arms snake around his neck, pulling him downwards so his lips met yours.

“can duo fight?” you laugh between kisses, pressing a softer kiss to the tip of his nose before detaching yourself from him.

satoru is ready before you, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching- no admiring, your every move as you get ready. his mind is filled with a whirlwind of compliments he can’t seem to get out, overcome with an overwhelming sense of love for you.

you’re an aura of warmth, kindness and love, and angel sent for him. a caring soul, who nurtured him back to health; through late night calls that ended with you in his apartment or vice versa, gentle reminders and tight hugs helping him through his toughest nights. through forced outings to fairs and arcades, despite his protests that he has been doing things other than working with his students and going on missions (he hadn’t).

it had taken time, but satoru had healed.

your love had healed him.

“oh i can’t do movie night Friday” you frowned, watching as the second and first years trained.

“oh? why’s that” satoru was caught off guard, you’d never been one to cancel on him.

“i- uh- I’ve got a date, actually” you chuckle, staring at your finger nails before looking at the man next to you.

“a date?” he repeated, heart sinking and stomach falling as you nodded with a smile.

“nanami set me up with them, didn’t know he actually had friends besides us,” you smiled, trying your best to ease the palpable tension.

you’d gotten up and left shortly after that, some lame excuse he can’t remember now. he did remember angrily walking into nanami’s office, accusing him of hating satoru and wanting to see him suffer.

“have you thought of- i don’t know, maybe telling y/n how you feel?” kento sighs, trying his best to focus on the report he was filling out before satoru had barged in.

satoru hadn’t thought of that, but he took his friends advice and marched up to you three hours later, confessing his feelings upfront.

“don’t go on that date, they don’t deserve you,” he began, immediately taking you back, “and maybe i don’t either but just give me one chance and i swear you won’t regret it.”

“what’s up with you today? maybe you shouldn’t drive” your words pull him out of his memory, blinking once, then twice before fully coming back to his senses.

“do you remember when you told me you had that date?” he asks, watching as you furrows your brows, the corners of your lips turning upwards as you recall the memory.

“oh yeah! then you confessed like an hour later” satoru nods, blushing a bit. “what about it?” you ask, moving to sit next to him, taking his larger hand in yours, tracing soothing circles into his skin with your thumb.

“i didn’t even know i liked you then,” he admits, “i just felt this terrible feeling in my stomach and yelled at nanami for wanting to ruin my life.” the revelation makes you smile a bit, “he told me to tell you that i liked you and only then did it dawn upon me that i had romantic feelings for you.” satoru laughs at himself now, looking at you with sparkling blue eyes.

“well, you were- and still are a bit of a dummy” you mumble, pulling his arm so satoru can lean against you, letting you rest your head atop his. “my silly angel boy.”

angel boy.

the first time he heard you say that he quite literally stopped in his tracks, smiling from ear to ear before picking you up and spinning you around. ‘say it again!’ he kept asking, blushing just as hard every time the pet name left your mouth.

satoru loves grocery shopping with you, checking off things as you put them in the cart. he thinks you look angelic against the backdrop of produce, heart fluttering as you look for the best bunch of cilantro.

he could do this for the rest of his life, he thinks to himself. the realization makes him bump against the display, thankful nothing fell over.

satoru gojo wants to marry you.

he wants nothing more in his life than to be with you for as long as he could. he wants to spend his mornings and nights besides you, he wants to make you breakfast and help you cook dinner, he wants to wash the dishes because you hate washing them, he wants to wake up to Cumbia and bachata on Sunday mornings as you clean, joining you and singing in broken Spanish as you serenade him with a broom.

it’s not as romantic as he’d once imagined, he thought the realization would come to him as the wind blew through your hair, or the golden rays of the sun kissed your cheeks.

instead he’s watching you pick out a two pack of steak, looking at him with a wide smile, “the prices dropped!” you grin, giddy as you happily put the meat into the cart, practically skipping down the line of raw meats.

he can hear his heartbeat in his ears as he wonder what to do next, mindlessly following you around the grocery store with the cart, every aisle affirming the fact that you’re the only one for him, especially as you tell him to get one sweet treat for the week as you go and get the milk.

he’s staring lovingly at you as you wait in line at the register, watching with interest as your eyes light up, “cariño can you get the eggs? i completely forgot,” he nods immediately, placing a chaste kiss to your cheek before turning on his heel and heading towards the eggs.

satoru lets the thought of marriage ruminate in his mind, recalling the times you’d talked about marriage, agreeing that you’d want to marry him. what if you’d changed your mind since then?

later that week as satoru is passing you the salt, he asks you the question that’s been eating at his mind. “do you still wanna get married?”

you chalk it up to his usual insecurities, turning around and kissing the tip of his nose and both his dimples. “‘course i do, angel boy” you reply, not missing a beat, “why? everything okay?”

satoru nods, eyes fluttering shut when your lips are pressing against his. “everything’s perfect,” he mumbles against you, smiling and chasing your lips for one more kiss before he passes you the butter.

one month later satoru is under the shade the cherry blossom trees give him, with you staring down at him, mouth still agape from seeing him get down on one knee.

“mi corazon, I’ve loved you more than i thought possible, you’ve breathed life into me when i thought there was no reason to keep living, you bring out the best in me everyday,” he begins, hands shaking slightly as you stare back at him, tears welling in your eyes.

“i want to be by your side for the rest of my life, i want to find you in every crowd, save you a seat next to mine and end my days with you in my arms,” satoru tried to ignore the thumping of his heart in his ears, “i want to be the only one lucky enough to be loved by you, will you marry me?”

you’re nodding quickly, mouth still covered before you’re throwing your arms around the snowy haired man- your now fiancé. “of course, yes!” you laugh, sniffling and wiping the tears that had fallen as you squeeze him tightly. “i love you cariño, i love you so so much” you grin, pressing your lips harshly against his, not caring when your teeth bump against his as you both smile, the spring wind causing pink petals to fall around the two of you.

there was a time in gojo’s life when he thought his life was over. he looks back and smiles, how was he supposed to know the best part of his life was only starting?

the void he once felt in his chest was now overflowing with the love and patience you poured into him; sickeningly sweet pet names and tender touches to ease his mind.

satoru can’t help but smile when he wakes up next to you everyday, grateful beyond belief he decided to be vulnerable that day in the courtyard.

“already staring at me lovingly?” you teased, making satoru grin, dimples on his cheeks as he hummed.

“something like that.”

[adrienneleclerc]

Little Bit of Food

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Y/N sees a TikTok video of couple where the women serves her partner more food on his plate than on hers. For research purposes, she just wants to see how he would react.

Warning: no translated Spanish, spelling and grammar errors, SHORT

A/N: since I am Mexican and Peruvian, the foods mentioned are typical foods that I grew up eating, I LOVE these foods so much, if any other Latine readers have suggestions of what dishes should be mentioned, comment below and I’ll tag you when I use them in another one shot. Also, sorry if it’s short, I don’t think I can build off a lot of “story material” over a TikTok trend, you know?

Y/N was watching TikTok and she saw a video that was interesting to her.

It was of a couple and a woman served her husband more food on his plate than on her own. The husband insisted that his wife should have more food and that he could eat something later.

Y/N knew that Henry was going to busy at the gym for a few hours so that gave her plenty of time to make one of Henry’s favorite meals that Y/N introduced him to, and that’s bistec a lo pobre. She bought sliced New York steaks from the Mexican grocery store (there’s always a butcher there), also some tortillas and 2 avocados to make guacamole or a sandwich later. When she went back to Henry’s house, she started cutting up tomatoes and onions so it would give the steak flavor. She put the onions and tomatoes aside in a bowl and got out the white rice in the pantry to wash the rice.

Half an hour later, Henry was came through the door sweaty and with a happy Kal.

“Ay hola, Kal, como te fue con tu papi, hm?” Y/N asked, kneeling to pet Kal.

“You call me papi?” Henry asked, drinking water from his sports bottle.

“When I’m talking about you to Kal, yes. Ain’t no way I’m calling you that though, it’s weird because I call my actual dad, papi. So don’t even think about it.” Y/N warned Henry as she washed her hands in the kitchen sink.

“Too late, I’m already thinking about, my lady.” Henry said, kissing her cheek as he hugged her from behind.

“Stop it. I’m making your favorite so please take a quick shower and then I’ll call you when it’s ready. Do you want one or two eggs?” Y/N asked.

“Two please, thanks love.” Henry said, kissing her lips before heading upstairs for his shower.

Y/N began sautéing the onions and tomatoes in the pan before adding in two pieces of steak for Henry, we’ll, one and a half, she cut a half piece for her plate. She got a plate out of the pantry to serve two ‘scoops’ of rice, adding the cooked steaks with tomatoes and onions on top of it, and preceded to fry two eggs on a different pan.

“Toro, food!” Y/N shouted and Kal calming running. “I said ‘toro’, not ‘oso’, you need to practice your Spanish, Kal.” Y/N said and placed Henry’s plate on his side of the table. Henry came running downstairs with his hair wet but he’s dressed in some shorts and a t-shirt.

“Thanks love, it looks amazing.” Henry said, kissing her.

“That’s good, now eat up, you’ve had a long workout.” Y/N said and that’s when she got a smaller plate, served herself a half scoop of rice, her half steak with 3 pieces of tomatoes and onions, and no eggs. When she sat down and said “let’s eat”, Henry looked at Y/N’s plate, then at his own.

“Darling, were you snacking while you were cooking again?” Henry asked, trying to find a reasonable explanation for the lack of food on his girlfriend’s plate.

“No, no, I didn’t snack at all. Eat before the eggs become cold.” Y/N pointed at him with her fork.

“Are you sick? You didn’t have to cook if you weren’t feeling well, love.” Henry said in a concerned voice.

“I’m fine Henry, I went to Fernando’s market today but the steak was too expensive so I only bought 2.” Y/N lied, she buys like half a pound of steak, there’s still 3 or 4 pieces in the fridge. Henry got up and grabbed his keys. “Where are you going?”

“To the market to buy more steak, what cut do you order a again? Med-ee-ya Libra de what?” Henry asked, opening the door,

“No no no, Henry, there’s no need for that, I can survive without bistec, please sit down and eat.” Y/N said, Henry closed the door, put down his keys, and sat back down.

“What about the eggs or the rice? I’m sure you could fill up on that, you told me you ate that when you were younger when there was nothing to eat.” Henry said.

“The last eggs were used on you, Toro. Now please eat before your food gets cold. You want something to drink? I got chicha (It’s a purple corn drink) if you don’t want soda.” Y/N said.

“Yeah, that’s fine, darling.” Henry said, when Y/N walked into the kitchen, Henry switched his plate for Y/N’s. When Y/N came back with chicha for Henry and soda for her, she saw what Henry did.

“Toro! You weren’t supposed to do that. You had a big workout, you’re bigger than me, you need all the protein you can get from this.” Y/N said, trying to switch the plates back but Henry refused.

“Nope, you cooked all this, you deserve to eat your delicious food. I could find something later.” Henry said,

“But you must be hungry, just eat it, I can make myself some potato quesadillas later.” Y/N said, attempting to get the plate back from Henry but he swatted her hand. “Toro!”

“I’m sorry love, but it’s for your good.” Henry said.

“I Don’t want you to be starving,” Y/N said,

“I won’t starve, my love. Watching you enjoy your food is filling enough for me.” Henry said and Y/N’s heart melted. She got out of her seat to sit on Henry’s lag, placing her hands on his neck to hug him.

“Amor, it’s a prank. There’s more steak in the fridge that I can fry up, there’s a lot of rice on the stove and plenty of eggs. Now please eat while I go serve myself more food.” Y/N said getting off him and grabbing her plate to do exactly that.

“You scared me, love. I was about to head over to the market…where is it by the way?” Henry asked,

“Haha, i can’t even tell you, I just know how to get there.” Y/N said, placing her steak in the pan and she watched Henry eat his meal.

“Delicious! This might even be better than your bistec empanado, did I pronounce that right?” Henry asked,

“Yes you did, Toro, but bistec empanado with sopita aguada is comfort food, along with quesadilla de papas, which I will be making tomorrow, I’ve been craving it,” Y/N said.

“That sounds so good, I have to make sure I work out even more. When I made you my girlfriend, I had no idea you would try to fatten me up.” Henry said and Y/N gasped, flipping the steak.

“I would never, how dare you accuse me. I’m gonna make flan for my friend’s birthday on Saturday so I’m gonna make another one just for us.” Y/N said and that made Henry laugh.

“I love your flan, darling. Your cooking skills put mine to shame.” Henry said. Y/N placed her steak on her place, serving more rice, and began frying an egg.

“I was born with that sazón, Toro.” Y/N said teasingly. She finished frying the egg, served it on her plate, and went to sit down. “Better?” Y/n asked, showing Henry her plate.

“Much better, my lady.” Henry said, kissing her. Kal barked. “Yes bear, you can have some steak too.” Henry said,

The End

Taglist: @warriormirkwood

[grapefives]

REVÓLVER SEXUAL | HC

supernova trio x gn!reader (separately)

very light angst + implied nsfw + hispanic/latin reader + past fat shaming + insecurities + fluff + mentioned past unhealthy mechanisms

a/n: totally not self indulging. this has been in my drafts for a year LMAO please like 🧍🏻‍♀️

૮ ּ ۟ monkey d. luffy ׅ ۫ ✧

when you first joined the crew, luffy KNEW you had some sort of trouble with food

you were so hesitant of EVERYTHING that he found himself insisting and making sure you ate well, along with sanji

“y/n, eat more.” you felt like he was your MOM.

you could hear the “estas muy flac@” from your family members or the “ni que estuvieras a dieta” from your mother

but it was so HARD to say no to luffy, captain or not.

you still didn’t have a healthy relationship with food, and still felt a little guilty if you found yourself eating more than you FELT like you should’ve

sometimes you’d go all day without eating until luffy drags you for dinner, it’s not that you did it intentionally, you just don’t find it in you to eat

honestly, it worried luffy but he never really commented on it

all he would do is make sure you at least ate

but when you would play with your food more than eat or even just stare at the plate before you, he would frown and actually force feed you

“Y/N YOU HAVE TO BE STRONG AND HEALTHY SO WE CAN BEAT EVERYTHING THAT COMES OUT WAY!”

yet, one day he finds out you literally had an issue with eating, you had mentioned it to chopper and he just happened to overhear

then it clicked why you were always squirmy during intimacy

and WITHOUT FAIL, to your surprise, he started being reassuring to you

he’s always a sweetheart with you, your hype man regardless but this time you knew his intentions were for you to understand you shouldn’t worry about your physical appearance

his eyes were ten times more tender outside the bedroom

yet, when it came to intimacy he was like a hungry animal— kissing, biting and grabbing. it had taken you aback at how specific he was being, but you still melted into him

he made you forget the voices that would say “hide that” or “don’t let him notice” but he made sure you understood that he’ll love you regardless of what you think

and he’s an eater

he’ll eat you up. always.

૮ ּ ۟ trafalgar d. law ׅ ۫ ✧

he’s a DOCTOR. man’s knows when someone is off.

he mistook your lack of interest in food for a stomach bug, genuinely concerned and forcing you to take pills and medicine

lowkey made you feel bad and ashamed to the point you came clean

medical confidentiality right?

😭 the face he gave you!!

“it’s unhealthy to neglect vital nutrients to your body.”

very stern about your meal intake, takes it upon himself to make sure you eat what you can stomach at first and make sure you grow comfortable with both him and food

he’s sweet really, just shows it in private

he literally sits you down and asks you what you would like for your body, because if you have any concerns then you MUST attend them CORRECTLY

no more unhealthy mechanisms

and he falls even more in love when you seem more radiant, more confident.

he’d come up from behind always and just plant a warm, wet kiss on your ear before whispering a compliment on your appearance

he made you feel like no one else’s opinion mattered anymore.

literally it didn’t matter if people commented on your weight, the results you were having made you feel confident

he was definitely surprised when you’d initiate intimacy, when you’d devour him like a starving animal

“someone’s hungry,” he teased once, but when you had paused, he realized his wording must have affected you

he low key panics and stutters out an apology but you smirk at him

“for once i don’t feel guilty for eating-“ and you devour his heart and soul too

૮ ּ ۟ eustass kid ׅ ۫ ✧

i’m sorry but this doofus was really oblivious about it until killer pointed it out

he was so mad at himself. how dare he not see your issue with food?? he thought you gave him your leftovers out of love!!

dude he’s like, an insensitive giant thinking he’s being helpful

it made sense of why you were always trying to put off intimacy or why you’d try to make him see less of you

“i don’t give a damn about how you look. why would i care?” he asks.

in his head he was being sweet and saying “i love you just the way you are.”

but it made you feel like shit

you were already struggling with feeling right with yourself, and he comes and says he doesn’t care? maybe you’re being sensitive but even that made you feel worse

it felt like you’ll never be enough for anyone, even eustass.

you never felt like you mattered, but growing up your weight put labels on you. you grew up with insults being used as nicknames, yet you felt like eustass saw you as nothing

“why aren’t you eating?” he asks when he notices you still aren’t developing a good eating habit, some days you eat well and others you either overeat or don’t eat at all

“does it matter?” you huff.

“i give a damn when you could get sick!”

“you said you don’t give a damn about how i look, so shut up about what i do.” you growl.

“eh? when did i say that!? you need to eat!” he huffs.

“well no thank you.”

you ignore him and he has to corner you in your room to get you to pay him any mind

his interrogations fall deaf in your ears as he cages you under him on your bed

“if i don’t matter to you get out,” you blurt out.

“what are you talking about? when have i made you feel like you don’t matter to me.”

“you know i’m struggling and you just- you just said you don’t give a damn about how i look!”

“because i don’t! does it have to matter? i love you for you! pirates seek out people for their bodies and for their own pleasures! i’m with you because i love you for who you are!”

“and i am not saying you’re ugly or whatever it is you think i think!” he beats you to every argument.

and then he goes on to show you PHYSICALLY what he means. not like, harsh or anything. you’ve never felt so precious under his care before, he kissed you so tenderly.

he didn’t make you feel fragile, like something that could break in a bad way

he made you understand how he sees you as more as his partner- as an extension of his soul, his missing piece

“i’ll make sure you never feel like that again, as long as you’re with me, you’ll be more valuable than a poneglyph. whatever you struggle with, i’ll help you through it.”

your confidence went up, because honestly he’s brutally honest and many people take what the captain says seriously; yet you knew he’s never lie to you

at the end of the day, what your lover says is what matters to you.

[wriitingwoes79]

Careful, He Bites

Miguel O’Hara x Hispanic!Reader

Summary: You’re FWB with the ever-elusive vigilante Spider-Man (2099) who unfortunately, for you, is not too fond of being ghosted.

Content Warnings: dom!Miguel, sub!reader, face sitting, biting, overstimulation, webfluid!bondage, dirty talk (and in español también !!🤭)

WC: 645 (ik ik it’s short my bad lol)

AN: heavily unedited and my Spanish is rusty (gotta love being a no sabo puerto rican ) so I apologize for that!! part 2 maybe? who knows lol

MDNI!!!

Your phone buzzed on the bedside table, your roommate’s photo and caller ID popping up. In your current state, you would just have to let the call go to voicemail—it’s not like you would be able to answer now or any time soon, anyways.

Especially since your thighs were bound by thick muscular arms (and ropes of webfluid) while Miguel’s tongue and lips flicked and sucked over your clit hungrily. The obscenely wet sounds emanating from your thighs held much more sway than the buzzing phone to your right.

Wave after wave of pleasure lapped over you as Miguel forced orgasm after orgasm from you. Your thighs shook around his head, and you squirmed as you felt the familiar rise of arousal leading towards another release.

“Ah!” You cried as you felt Miguel’s teeth lightly rake over your clit, quivering from the sensation. It was a warning from him: take it.

Sit there and take it.

Dios mío, you absolutely couldn’t take another orgasm—your clit was beyond sensitive, overly aware of every rough flick and wet swirl of his tongue as he licked up everything that dripped from between your thighs. His soft groans didn’t help the situation either, soft vibrations from his lips and throat running along your now-aching pussy.

Miguel’s hand tightened on your thighs, hard enough that you were sure the marks would be there by the time you made it back to your apartment.

This had to be a punishment, you thought. How orgasms could even be considered a punishment you didn’t know but you knew the roughness, the little care for how much you ached (despite the overflow of pleasure) had to be some sort of retaliation.

Sure, you hadn’t talked to Miguel in over a week, and sure, you had a blind date with a coworker of your roommate’s but that was nothing! Miguel was just a nice little friends with benefits.

Well…a vigilante friend with benefits.

A vigilante who swung you into his apartment, tearing your panties off with his fanged teeth and trapped you over his face without even taking his suit off—he’d merely lifted the mask up to free his lips and tongue for your torment. You hated how much it turned you on to see his lips and the tip of his nose peeking out from the blue and red suit material.

The orgasm rising in you once more was enough cause for you to squirm more, trying to ease off the side of his face. Miguel’s grip tightened and his lips left from your clit to trace your inner thigh. In seconds, his teeth—his fangs specifically, gripped the soft fleshy part of your inner thighs and pain sparked there. He bit, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to keep you as still as you could manage.

Hard enough to leave marks for you to find later.

“No te muevas,” he growled against you, his lips finding your clit once more, “you can take it, amor.” You whined at the sensation, his lips and gruff voice against your sensitive pussy, the way the ‘r’ in “amor” rolled so delicately off his tongue and onto your clit.

“Puedes hacer uno más,” he said and continued to devour you as if it were the only sustenance he needed to survive. Within seconds, the orgasm came bursting from you, your thighs dripping desire and release which Miguel lapped up with ease. Your entire body shook from the effort and you slumped over, legs tangled on Miguel’s shoulders from the ties still taut and biting into your skin.

Your phone buzzed again and Miguel eased himself you, pulling you free from the webfluid ties without a second thought. He picked up your phone, answering it and held it to your ear,

“Tell her you won’t be coming home just yet, cosita linda. I’m not finished with you.”

[mariclerc]

Summer gateway | ls2

Summary: you and logan decide to do an eurotrip on summer.

Warnings: none, just fluff and Hispanic!reader.

a/n: a little blurb, because i think we're all going to miss logan🥺😭🤍 @bananaleclerc

When the famous "summer break" finally arrived, you and Logan were very clear about what you wanted to do in that almost month-long vacation... Being able to take a Eurotrip through some European cities, maybe not all of them, but it was enough for both of you to be able to say that you two had such a great summer.

Right now you and Logan are at one of the last stops of your Eurotrip... Barcelona, you always wanted to visit the city for its architecture and so on... You and Logan are at a cute cafe enjoying a sunny afternoon.

”¡What a good coffee! Oh god, I really needed one!” you say smiling while sipping a cortado.

“I know, right? The coffee and the place are so amazing.” he chuckled.

“I know, but not as much as you.” you say while blushing a little bit.

You and Logan have been dating for a couple of years, since he was racing in F2, you both met in a cafe near the Williams factory, you both started talking until you told him you were a latina from Miami and he got really excited to meet a fellow countryman on the other side of the world... Little by little things started to happen and so on, it was a wonderful thing for you to have met him in such an inopportune way.

“Aw, stop it baby. You're too sweet.” he says while grinning.

You giggle. “No, seriously, I love traveling with you! It's so much fun bebé!” (baby)

He takes your hand. “Me too, mi amor. It's been so nice to just relax and enjoy each other's company.” (my love)

You look at him fondly. “Yeah, with no worries about bad bosses.”

“And without any racing to worry about. It's the perfect break.” he leans closer towards you.

You nudge him playfully. “Bueno, eso es cierto! But don't worry, when we get back on track, I'll be there supporting you, whether you do well or not.” (well, that's true!)

He giggled as he heard you speaking spanish. “I know you will, love. You're always my biggest fan!”

You smile softly at him. “I will always be, mi amor. And you, mine, even if I don't do something as interesting as yours.” you say in a whisper. (my love)

You two sit in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying the atmosphere. Logan takes out his phone and shows you a picture.

“Look at this view from the Sagrada Família! It's incredible!” he says excitedly.

“Principe that's incredible! Can we go there tomorrow? Please?” you say with excitement in your voice and wide eyes as you look at the picture. (prince)

He laughs a little. “Of course we can honey! Anything for you!”

You two continue talking, laughing, and planning your next summer adventure together.

You sighed. “Oh, te amo mucho Logie!” you said softly to him. (oh, i love you so much logie!)

He smiled and blushed. “I know you do my sweet love.” he kissed your cheek. “How about we go back to the hotel and get some rest, little doll?”

You blushed. “Oh yup! Today has been a little tiring.” you nodded at his words.

You two get up from the table and start walking, you love the vibe of the city and the atmosphere so much, but more than that, you love being able to be in that place with your ideal person in the whole world.

[bearieio]

ellie & abby w/ a latina partner

warnings:  fluff! , fem!reader + r is latina ;)

a/n:  in honor of hispanic heritage month!!!! we blowin’ this bitch up. with my headcanons, that is. mostly mexican headcanons (for the reader), because that’s really the only dialect/tradition & cultural that i know ┐( ˘ ､ ˘ )┌

also, SUPPORT HISPANIC/LATINO WRITERS, ARTISTS, AND BUSINESSES!!!! or else... >:(

abby WOULD DEFINITELY try learning spanish. she’d pick it up here and there because of manny, but the farther you guys develop into the relationship, the more she wants to immerse herself within your culture and your language.

and dare i say it, but she’s pretty darn good at speaking spanish.

the first time she speaks spanish to you, it catches you off guard.

you’d come home from your day out with your friends and she’d just peek out from around the corner like, “mi amor, que pasa?”

“Q-QUE?! WHAT?”

“WHAT?! did i say something wrong, babe?” she asks, a frown forming on her face.

“oh no, mi corazon, you just caught me off guard!” you smile, reaching up to caress her rosy cheeks, “have you finally been pickin’ up what i’ve been puttin’ down, abs?” 

she scoffs playfully, “supongo, reinita.”

"okay white girlllll~"

abby would love helping you in the kitchen, cooking up your favorite traditional meals.

but sometimes she’d make a mistake, putting the wrong seasoning in the rice, overcooking the beans, or burning the tortillas. (😭) and you’d temporarily ban her form the kitchen, meaning she’d only be able to watch you.

but every once in a while, she’d remind you about the mole or the broth for the caldo de res. 

you’re grateful she reminds you and she’s just happy to be of service.

if you’re not mexican specifically, she’d most likely start arguments between you and manny about the differences in the dialects and slang since she’s not too familiar with the other latin slang out there. but she does her best

if you happen to be brazilian, she’ll do her best to research and become more familiar with the portuguese language and the brazilian culture.

if you’re haitian, she’ll love learning creole and/or french for you since she’s more familiar with french. (i have a feeling she’s had french lessons in the past/someone she knew was french so she learned it from them!)

ellie BUTCHERS the FUCK outta some words in spanish. like she genuinely CANNOT pronounce “cuatro.” like…

but it’s okay because you know what she’s trying to say…. most of the time.

“quieres comer, mamashita?" with heavy pronunciation on the “shi” sound.

you stare at her for a moment, trying to figure out if she’s be funny or not. “what?”

“what?” she replies

“baby thats not-“

ellie is banned from the kitchen. permanently. she is not allowed anywhere NEAR that bigass pot on the stove. 

when you find her sneaking into the kitchen when she’s trying to steal a tamale, you can’t help but giggle as you try and drag her away from the stove.

“ellie i already told you twice!- you can't be in here!!” 

“YOU CANT MAKE ME!” 

*insert that meme of the kid running away w/ the knife*

ellie LOVES dancing with you. whether its cumbia, salsa, bachata, or samba, ellie is IN IT! 

i think cumbias her fave (bc it’s my fav). and she’s the best at it.

whenever she’s invited to the carne asada, she’s the only one that all your cousins, your tias, and your abuela want to dance with. 

by the 9th-10th song, she’s already complaining about how she’s ready to go to sleep (and she does in your old room at your family’s house) and how she underestimated your grandma’s stamina.

mi amor, que pasa? = my love, what’s going on/how are you? 

mi corazon = my heart

supongo, mi reinita = i guess, my little queen

quieres comer? = do you want to eat?

constructive criticism is appreciated !!!

[snowywolf1005]

HAPPY SEPTEMBER 15 OF MEXICO!!! 🇲🇽💚🤍❤️

Now it's time for...

KENJI SATO X HISPANIC READER

He's deeply in love with you.

You taught him all about your culture.

Kenji meets your family, and he is really surprised to see many people.

He eats one of your favorite foods.

Your family got excited once you have a lover that you really love.

Your mom teaches kenji how to dance, and you also taught him well.

He gets really nervous to dance.

He taught your cousin of baseball.

Your group aunts keep asking you if you're married and also ask kenji too.

I'm still figuring out how you two met.

Kenji celebrate the holidays of Mexico and you also celebrate the Japan holidays.

[forevery0urs]

You and Eren are defff highschool sweethearts💗

In highschool you guys were the main couple! Everyone knew how much you guys were in love with each other even though you didn’t show that much affection.

They would usually see you guys walking around the halls with each other or Eren waiting outside your class for you.

“Hi baby” Eren said grinning as you walked out of your class. He throws his arm over your shoulder,leaning down to give you a kiss.

“Don’t you have to be at practice right now?” You mumble against his lips. “Um actually i don’t have practice until after school,Coach had to do something” He smiles,kissing your cheek.

“So does that mean you’ll be at lunch with me today??” You smile. “You act like i’ve never sat down to eat lunch with you” He laughs.

“Most of the times you’re with your friends at the football field” You roll your eyes,getting a bit upset and kind of walking in front of Eren.

“Okay yeah i am,i’m sorry,mi vida” He mumbles,pulling you back by your waist. He kisses the side of your neck softly.

You try not to smile but you fail. You guys walk to an empty hallway where no one can see you guys.

You turn around and wrap your arms around his neck. “You know i’m right most of the time so don’t try to argue with me” You laugh softly.

“Of course you are,baby. I don’t know why i even try” He grins,wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you with love.

You guys kiss for a few minutes before you’re interrupted.

“Miss Y/l/n and Mr Jeager? Aren’t we supposed to be in the cafeteria and not in the halls?” A teacher interrupts.

You pull away,Eren laughing and hiding his head in between your neck,gently placing kisses.

“Um yes but I don’t think a bunch of students want to see us kissing, Mr Hanes.” You say innocently,trying not to hide your smile.

He rolls his eyes. “This is your first warning,don’t let me catch you again.” He grumbles,walking away.

“You need to stop talking back,Miss Y/l/n.” Eren makes fun of you,you could feel him laughing against your skin. You push him off.

“Shut the fuck up” “Don’t use that language with me, Miss Y/l/n” He laughs even harder when you walk away from him smiling to walk to the cafeteria, clearly annoyed by him not really

And obviously he’s trailing behind you like a lost puppy.

[moonkake-143]

𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡 | Into the Labyrinth

Goblin King!Eddie X AFAB/Fem!Henderson Reader

Edited By the lovey: Jen

Contents: Slow Burn, One sided pining from Eddie turned mutual, love at first sight, fluff, angst, no use of y/n

Summery: Your time starts now and your first challenge awaits.

Chapter 2/? {wc: 5.7k}

Masterlist

Part 1  Part 2

The walk felt long and arduous, especially with the sun beating down on you as hard as it did. How odd it was that you were just under the cover of darkness back home— it had been cold and stormy, but here the sun was high up in the sky, with clouds only partly covering the land. Below you, the grassy hill felt as if it went on forever, and for a beat, you thought it did— a sick trick already at the start, but one thing remained a constant in your mind.

        Find Dustin and get out of there.

        You thought those words over and over like a mantra, or hell, even a prayer, pushing yourself forward despite the burning sun. Despite the clock that timed you from the top of that damn hill. Despite the handsome, curly-haired man who brought you here in the first place.

        Cursing him, you shook your head and continued your trek, finally reaching the bottom of the hill and landing on a dirt road. The surrounding fields were barren, and crops rotted in tipped-over barrels. The area was devoid of life, and as the smell of charcoal invaded your nostrils, you scrunched your nose in disgust, picking up the pace. With sunken thatch roofs, the houses were charred, and when you came closer, you noticed arrows stuck in the rotting wood. You noticed the claw marks that scarred the doors and the rust-colored stains that marred the sides of the cottages. There had been some sort of struggle; a carnage that had been long forgotten, but there were no bodies in sight— as if they had just up and vanished.

       Just what happened here?

        As you walked, the ash-stricken houses began to converge the closer you walked towards the forest, as if a village was waiting deep inside. A growing uneasiness followed you until you finally stopped in front of a signpost, realizing that the dirt road forked into two paths— one that went into the forest, and another that continued towards abandoned farmland. Both signs were illegible, written in a language that resembled the scribbles of a two year-old. But even if you could translate them, the wooden signs were so damaged, rotting and falling apart, that you struggled to decide which way to go.

        Without warning, a gust of wind swept through you, and you shivered, rubbing your arms to combat the sudden chill. Now you really wished you had a jacket, rather than just a tank top. However, you noticed that the wind whisked a trail of leaves into the woods.

        If that wasn't a sign, then you didn't know what was.

        Taking a deep breath, you followed them down the path.

        Time seemed to stand still as you walked through the damp forest, but then again, time felt a lot different here. The trees provided a much-needed cover from the burning sun, casting gloomy shadows. It seemed to be a logging camp, with a scattering of wooden cabins that looked in better shape then the ones outside, but were still unsettling to walk past. You found more arrows, with rusty axes embedded in the trunks of trees, but nature seemed to overtake them. Grass and daisies grew in the gaps between abandoned machinery, covering the pieces in moss. More houses seemed to go deeper into the forest, all seemingly abandoned and overgrown.

        As you walked, the humidity caused your hair to frizz up and covered your entire body in an uncomfortable layer of sweat. You let out a huff and wiped the condensation from your brow, your legs aching.

        How long had you been walking for? Was this all for nothing? Had you gone the wrong way? Was there no labyrinth at all? Questions swirled around your mind as your chest swelled, your breath shortening. The heat was not helping— it felt suffocating, as if the entire forest was a damp sauna. What was it with this sudden change in weather?

       With a ragged breath, you finally stopped walking, and your vision blurred with tears. Anxiety gnawed at your very core, your body tensing and trembling as you buried your face in your hands, taking deep breaths. Slowly, you tried to steady yourself, your head aching and pulse pounding. As the pain in your chest subsided, you lowered your palms from your eyes, slowly opening them.

        In front of you wasn't the dirt path, but a large gate— one that hadn’t been there before. It was tall and deeply ornate, with a stone arch and iron bars that were curled into what looked like bats. Moss and vines twisted along the cobblestone pillars on either side, but what caught your eye was the wide, seemingly endless wall that encompassed the labyrinth. You slowly walked up to it, grabbing onto the iron bars and pulling— but the gate was locked.

        "Come on, I've come this far…” you sighed.

        "Halt! Who goes there?”

        Jumping in surprise, you spun and frantically looked for the source of the voice, bringing your arms up in a defensive position— albeit a rather weak one.

        "Who’s there?!” you called out.

        The disembodied voice seemed to chuckle at your attempt at intimidation.

        "I should be asking you that! What brings a human to my neck of the woods?”

        The voice sounded feminine and held a jolly lilt of humor, one that eased your stance slightly. Looking around, you kept your fists up, stepping forward. Maybe those karate classes from elementary school would kick in if something did happen.

        Then as swift as the wind, someone from the top of the gate dropped behind you.

       "Boo!”

        Yelping, you tripped and landed on your bottom, stirring up dust that caused you to cough.

        Curse your lack of instincts and balance. Those classes did nothing to prepare you.

        When the dust settled, you found a pair of striking blue-green eyes staring you down. You let out a gasp, quickly scooting backwards in a feeble attempt to crabwalk away from her. She was sun-kissed, as if she spent her life outside, with freckles dotted across her nose— or was it dirt? You couldn't tell, but she was studying you like a specimen, her eyebrows married in concentration at the possibility of you being a threat. But then she relaxed and flashed a sharp-toothed smile, her teeth both blinding and scary.

        "So it is you! The girl Eddie’s always on about!”

        "Wh-What?”

        "Oh, sorry for startling you— here, lemme help you up.”

        She grabbed your forearm, hoisting you up as if you weighed nothing, and you winced as her sharp claws lightly grazed your skin. Her dirty-blonde hair was chopped just above her shoulders, her eyes crinkling under her wide grin. How could she smile even more?

        "Who are you?”

        "Oh right, I’m Robin! I watch over this gaudy-looking gate!”

        Robin stepped back from you, and it was then that you fully took her in. She wore a similar outfit to Eddie's, dressed in a poet shirt and tight trousers, with gloves fit for an archer. Slung over her back was a longbow and a quiver of arrows, and a dagger was sheathed to her hip. Gold piercings adorned her ears, which were long and pointed— something you had only ever read about in fantasy novels.

        "You’re an elf…?”

        "Oh hells no! A goblin, actually! Never seen a goblin before? We're nothing like those posh pricks!"

        "No, I've never seen a real goblin before..."

        "And it's been a while since I've seen a human! They're quite rare around here.”

        Shaking your head, you stared at her in awe. Goblins always were depicted as small, evil green things, but Robin— she looked human. It made you wonder what elves really looked like.

        "I know, I am quite stunning, but I'm afraid I'm taken!"

        You realized you were staring for longer than was socially acceptable, and your face turned bright red as you broke your stare.

        "You're really the girl he's always talking about, huh? I can see why he likes you.” The relaxed tone disappeared from her voice, her previous expression returning as she studied you. The goblin woman then began to circle you like a vulture, sizing you up and scanning you from head to toe.

        "What? Why are you doing that? Robin, right? Please, can you let me inside?”

        "Woah, one question at a time. Start with the most important one.”

        "Can you please let me inside?”

        "I can, but that’s not the right question.”

        "What? What do you mean not the right question?”

        "You ask a lot of questions, huh?”

        Robin finally stopped in front of you and stared, a smile slowly appearing on her face. She was quiet, letting you stew in your own mind.

        What was she talking about? You said please, was that not enough?

        You turned your back to her, opening your arms and lifting them to the sky.

        "Open Sesame? Abracadabra?”

        Robin burst into a fit of laughter, her own face turning red as she clutched her abdomen, her shoulders shaking. You dropped your arms in embarrassment, cheeks flushing as you wracked your brain for what could have been the answer— why wouldn't she open the gate?

        Oh wait.

        "...Will you please open the gate?”

        "Now that’s more like it!”

        Robin turned and pushed vines aside to reveal a wooden lever, pulling it down. The mechanisms began to churn, the cranking of the gears becoming louder as you walked closer. Anxiety quickly settled into a permanent place in your stomach.

        "How bad is it?”

        "The truth? Terrifying. Are you really going in there?” Robin watched you with curious, worried eyes.

        "I have to…for my brother.”

        "You mean the brother you wished away? How admirable. But here’s your official warning: a mere human like you may not make it out alive. The labyrinth is no game to take lightly— you might forget which way is which, fall into a pit of spikes, or encounter a monster thirsty for blood— you'll never know what you might find.”

        Staring wide-eyed at the open gate, you turned to her.

        "There are monsters in here? You're not messing with me?“

        "Afraid not, but here— you might need this.”

        Robin unclipped her dagger, quick to wrap the belt around your waist.

        "Promise we’ll be friends if you make it out alive?”

        "When I make it out…”

        "That's the spirit! Now go get 'em! Don’t die!" Robin’s smile was blinding as she pushed you towards the entrance. "Good luck, and don’t take anything at face value!”

        You swallowed the lump in your throat as you stared at the stone walls, which seemed to beckon you inside. Taking a breath, you crossed under the gate, which quickly fell shut behind you with a loud bang. You jumped, turning to see the goblin woman waving from the other side.

        Letting out a surprised huff, you faced ahead once more.

        "Alright, I gotta find Dustin," you thought. "I've only got thirteen hours— how am I even going to track that? Robin mentioned monsters...at least she gave me this…"

        Pulling the dagger from its place on your belt, you examined it. It was a simple thing wrapped in leather, with a slightly curved blade. Embedded in the hilt was a red stone, possibly a ruby. You held it out and slashed at the air, imagining your target as someone with curly hair and brown doe eyes. Once satisfied with yourself, you sheathed it away and continued your journey.

        You walked slowly, taking in your surroundings and keeping a watchful eye out for any traps. Brown roots covered the stone walls and spilled onto the path in thick chunks. You carefully maneuvered around them, but the passage seemed to go on forever, and you slowly went from a walk to a jog, and from a jog to a sprint, running down the path with no end in sight.

        Your careless running finally caught up to you when you tripped over a thick, gnarled root, toppling over and tumbling to the ground. Knees digging into dirt, you huffed as you looked up, and from the corner of your eye, you saw it.

        The labyrinth was moving.

        By the looks of it, it changed ever-so slightly— nothing the careless eye could catch so quickly. The walls shifted in what looked to be a wave of magic, pulsating as if they were alive, and the root you had just tripped over slowly disappeared, rescinding into the stone crevices behind you. Was the labyrinth alive after all? Or was this Eddie’s doing?

        You punched the ground in frustration as the pain in your knees became a dull ache. Groaning, you sat up against the wall, your face red not just from exhaustion, but the anger that bubbled to the surface.

        "You can’t be serious!" you screamed at the bright blue sky, hoping someone— anyone— would listen. "What the actual fuck am I supposed to do? Hey, Eddie! Yeah, I have a feeling you can hear me, you prick! What the fuck!? You didn't say it fucking moves! Or that there were monsters in here!”

        You were met with dead silence as you leaned your head against the stone wall, catching your breath and closing your eyes.

        "Alright, this is fine, just breathe. This is like one of those DND campaigns. Yeah, okay, maybe none of this is even real. Did I finally lose it? What if Dustin is dead? Oh god, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself— what if I'm dead too?! What if mom finds me on the side of the road?!” Your ramblings carried through the silence of the labyrinth, hands trembling as you raked your fingers through your hair in anxious panic.

        Tears threatened to escape your eyes, and you tried to will them away, but had to shove your palms against your eyes to force them to hide. You wouldn’t cry, not over this, not over hypothetical scenarios. Dustin was alive— he had to be. You remembered his bubbly laugh. You remembered how curious he always was, often getting into trouble. You remembered how he tucked his head of curls under your chin when you watched movies together. Then you thought about how scared he must be without you there, in the dark and surrounded by terrifying monsters who could eat him if they wanted to. You tucked your knees close to your chest, hiccups erupting from your body as the tears you tried so hard to fight back flowed from your eyes.

        "Are you alright, dear?”

        You jumped at the sudden voice. It was a gentle thing, feminine and holding a motherly lilt that pulled you out of your internal dread. You searched for the source of it, eyes teary.

        "Would you like a spot of tea? I believe I have some leaves perfect for brewing.”

        The source of the voice finally revealed itself to you, hanging from a vine on the wall. Rubbing the tear stains from your cheeks, you leaned towards the creature. A spotted mushroom sat on its head, and delicate, glistening fairy wings sprouted from its back. You shook your head at the question.

        “What troubles you, my dear?”

        The fairy was small but seemed wise with age, with pointed ears that stuck out from her dark brown curls. Her skin was golden, as if the sun blessed her, and she wore a dress made of leaves. Her voice was warm and inviting, but her golden eyes looked you over with sorrow and worry— a mother's gaze, no doubt.

        "It’s this maze! It moves without warning! How am I supposed to get through it in thirteen hours?! Dustin is probably scared to death and it's all my fault!”

        "Oh dear, our king hasn’t properly warned you of the labyrinth, has he? Well, I can tell you with certainty that the brother you shed tears for is safely tucked away in his manor. Our king is kind and always watches over us, including little ol’ me. But in this place, things are not what you expect— for example, take that wall in front of you. It is no ordinary wall.”

        The fairy's wings gently fluttered as she lifted herself towards the wall. Placing a small hand against it, she seemed to keep floating forward.

        Slowly calming your tears, you picked yourself off the ground and approached the wall. Hand outstretched, you expected yourself to stop short, only you stumbled forward.

        "So it’s an illusion...” You walked further and were finally able to place your hand against the cobble, where you saw paths on either side. The fairy slowly settled onto your shoulder, her wings limply hanging downward.

        "I’m sorry, dear— my wings don’t quite flutter how they used to. Can you set me down near that mushroom there? Thank you.”

        "No, I should be thanking you. I needed your help.” You crouched and held your palm towards your shoulder. The fairy hopped onto it, and you set her on the dirt.

        "Oh dearie, it was nothing. Now go, he’s waiting for you!”

        "Thank you again.”

        The fairy gave you a warm smile before waving you away, her hands sparkling as you straightened up. There were two paths to choose from, both looking nearly identical. You looked to the right first, which was lined with spotted mushrooms, and then to the left, where flowers grew from stone walls. Your feet moved towards the left path, distracted by the flowers, but you stopped. 

        "Maybe the flowers are a trap. Their smell is so overwhelmingly sweet, it's giving me a headache— I can't go that way.”  You shook your head and swiftly turned to the right, following the mushrooms down the path.

        You walked and walked for what felt like hours, the pulsating walls shifting from gray cobblestone to green hedges, the changes taking place in your peripheral vision. When you looked over your shoulder, you noticed that shrubbery covered the opening you came through. You pulled the dagger from its sheath and carved an arrow into the ground, marking your path. Keeping the knife out, you trekked through the hedge maze, and when you reached a dead end, you sighed and turned back— only for the arrow mark to be missing.

        "What the hell? This is such a sick joke— I swear it was right here! Ugh!” You stomped, and the stone tile beneath your foot clicked. Your breath stalled short as your eyes darted around, but you saw nothing. You heard the sudden rustle of leaves, and turned to find that the dead end had opened into an archway. It could have been some sort of trap, but you were desperate, and hurried through the opening.

        The passage slowly opened to a courtyard surrounded by round hedge walls, and you froze as fear took hold of you. Between two pillars, you found a mysterious creature sleeping. It was blocking something— a door.

        "This has to be the way. Of course it wouldn’t be so easy. I need to find a way around this thing— whatever it is."

        You surveyed the creature from a distance, still frozen in fear and awe. Curled like a sleeping housecat, it resembled a golden lion with feathered wings. How were you going to get around it? Your sweaty fingers gripped the hilt of the dagger Robin had given you. It wasn’t much, but you took comfort in having something to defend yourself with. You inched forward, trying to find a way around the beast.

        The animal stirred and you froze immediately, sweat beading on your temple as you defensively held the knife in front of you. The creature then growled and twisted, stretching out in its sleep. A crystal ball rested under its paw, suddenly lighting up, and an all-too-familiar voice shouted through it.

        "Chrissy, wake up!”

        The creature hummed and swiped at the ball, which rolled its way towards you. Maybe this was your chance for contact— to see if your brother was alright.

        You quickly sheathed the dagger and dropped down to hoist the crystal ball into your hands, backing away from the creature. Larger than the one previously offered to you, the orb reflected a man with shaggy curls. You glared at his image, but Eddie's attention was elsewhere as he shouted at someone, his voice muffled by all the noise around him. In the background, you heard the sounds of goblins yelling and knocking each other over as something metal loudly clattered to the floor.

        "Eddie, the kid is causing too much trouble! He nearly decapitated little Mike with a sword just now! You watch him, I need a break!” 

        "Stevie you can't leave now! He likes you!"

        "Not my problem! And stop calling me that!

        The unknown man huffed in annoyance before walking off and Eddie rolled his eyes before he let out a heavy sigh. 

        "Some one else was watching over Dustin? And he was around a sword?!"

        Eddie's pointed ears twitched at a high-pitched scream and he groaned, before turning his head to face you.

        "How many times do I—? Oh hello, Miss Henderson.” His eyes widened, not expecting to see you on the other end of the crystal.

        "Where is he?” Your voice was low and angry as you quickly hid behind a pillar, but he seemed distracted.

        "Where’s who? Hey!" The ball jostled as it was ripped from his hands. "Get back here!” He started chasing after the thief, and when he seemed close, you heard childish laughter.

        "Dustin, is that you!?” Your eyes brimmed with tears as you clutched the ball close, a relieved sigh escaping— none of your fears had come true. 

        The laughter became louder as your brother’s gummy grin took center stage, his blue eyes crinkled with glee as he ran, the crystal shaking in his hands.

        "Dustin! Dustin! Are you okay?!” Your voice shook as you tried to get his attention, lowering it as the sleeping creature stirred. He laughed and joyously called your name.

        "I okay, no worry!”

        "Are you sure? You're not hurt? Where are you?” Your questions came out quick, but he giggled, his curls bouncing as he ran.

        "I at Eddie's house! I like it here and I like Eddie! He play with me and I still eat my veggies, like you say! But Eddie don’t eat.”

        "I’m coming to get you, okay? I'll be there soon. Then we’re gonna go home and eat all the ice cream you want. If the goblins do anything bad, then you hit them real hard and run away.”

        "Yay!" The boy cheered, but his running slowed, his eyes droopy and tired. "Pinky promise...?”

        "Pinky promise…I…I love you.”

        "Love you…” he yawned.

        Suddenly he was scooped up, laughing sleepily— something you didn’t think you would miss so much.

        "I’ll take that back now, you little rascal— time for bed.”

        The image shook once again as Eddie plucked the crystal ball from Dustin's grip, holding it out to show the two of them. Dustin dug his face into his shoulder and clung to his neck, legs wrapped around his torso. The man’s eyes were gentle as he shifted his attention from the boy to you, and with a soft voice, he stared you down.

        "You have eleven hours— I'll see you soon.”

        Red smoke filled the crystal, and when it cleared, he was gone.

        "What was all that about? No, forget him, Dustin is okay. He's been eating and now he's going to sleep. See me soon? When I see Eddie, I’m gonna—"

        You set the large crystal ball on the ground and turned to the now very-much-awake creature— one that was half-human, dressed in a white and gold toga. Her ocean blue eyes were piercing, her golden hair perfectly framing her soft face.

        "It seems you caught me napping— you must be the famous Henderson girl I hear so much about.” The creature's voice was soft and tired, her eyes staring you down as you stood away from her.

        How did all of these creatures know you?

        You kept still, your heart furiously beating in your ears. You were sure she could hear it too.

        "That knife at your hip— I hope you weren't planning on using it on me. Otherwise, you might have been my lunch.” she grinned nonchalantly.

        You quickly shook your head— a lie.

        "Come closer, don't be shy. I’m Chrissy and I promise I won’t eat you— there are things here that are far worse than me. Now for your test!”

        You slowly began to approach her, noticing three large locks on the door behind her.

        "Test? What kind of test?”

        "It’s really easy, just answer some riddles and unlock the door behind me to continue towards the city. Easy-peasy!”

        "Wait, riddles? You're a sphinx?” You wracked your head for the story, remembering the creature from a book of Greek mythology you read for history class.

        "Well no, I’m a goblin. We come in all shapes and sizes." Chrissy was a large creature, but she began to shrink, her lion legs shifting into human ones. Her toga reached her ankles, and her bare feet seemed to have been dipped in gold. Her blonde hair fell just past her shoulders as she yawned, arms stretching out above her head.

        You watched in awe and she smiled brightly, giving you jazz hands. The golden bangles around her wrists clanked when she did so.

        "Alright then, I have three riddles for you. If you can’t solve them, then unfortunately, you'll be...misplaced.”

        "Wait, misplaced? Where to?”

        "Typically you’d be placed anywhere in the labyrinth, but in this case, I was told to send you back to the beginning.”

        Your eyes widened and she laughed, her jewelry jingling as she approached you.

        "So, are you ready or not? You don’t have that much time…”

        Taking a deep breath, you nodded. Hopefully all those Dungeons and Dragons sessions would pay off.

        "I’m ready…I think.”

        She clasped her hands together in prayer and her blue eyes gently closed. When she opened them a few seconds later, they glowed a bright gold. You flinched at the unexpected change, but tried to relax. This was your first true test.

        "Your first riddle is this: if given one, you’ll have many or none at all.” Her voice echoed throughout the landing, shaking the hedge walls.

        You steadied yourself and delved deep into your mind, stewing in the question. You had to think carefully; if you gave the wrong answer, you would have to start all over again. And if you did, there most likely wouldn't be a kind fairy creature to help you. What would you even choose to say? There were so many choices.

        Wait.

        Taking a deep breath, you shakily gave your first answer.

        "A choice…?”

        Chrissy smiled, and a lock from behind her fell to the floor.

        "That is correct— your destiny is shaped by the choices you make on your journey through life. Many choices can alter your path, whether they lead you to ruin, or lead you to glory. Choices give the power to challenge your fate. Now your second riddle is this: some are cherished, some are hated, and even if lost, they remain with you.”

        You stared at her, taking in her words, imprinting them into your mind. It could be people— maybe it was. But how are lost people still with you? In your heart?

        Suddenly you thought of your father, the day he left Hawkins ingrained into your memory. Your mother was pregnant with Dustin at the time— you remembered her crying after work, still in her scrubs. You remembered the day she came home with your brother in a carrier and how she cried for weeks after. You remembered seeing her less often. You remembered waking up to feed Dustin when your mother worked night shifts. You remembered not having a Sweet 16th after he was born. You remembered helping to pay for his racecar bed. You remembered getting him to say your name for the first time. It was his first word. You remembered raising him, and you remembered loving him so much. But you remembered the sleepless nights before tests. You remembered missing school to watch over him when he was sick. You remembered crying when he wouldn’t stop. You remembered having to swallow back the tears when your mother was there. The memories were a cocktail of pain, loss, and happiness.

        You remembered…

        "Is the answer memories?”

        Another of the locks fell to the ground, causing it to shake.

        "Correct— memories are powerful. They may hold a person's love or hate, their joy and their grief, and some may choose to block them out. The memories you hold dear will always be imprinted into your heart, even as years pass. Our memories shape us, and you are now stronger because of them. Keep those memories close, for even if they hurt, they are a part of who you are. Now, your last riddle is this: they arrive every night, whether invited or not. They can be seen, but not heard or touched. If one falls, they all keep moving.”

        You absorbed her words into your mind— you needed to get this right, or you would be doomed to reset this death trap. Tapping your foot, you tried to wrap your head around the riddle. You looked up at the sky above you, falling into a distant memory.

        "Whas in da sky?”

        "Those are stars, Dustin. You can only see them clearly out here.”

        "Why?”

        "Because it's dark here.”

        "The dark is scawy...”

        "It can be, but the stars will always keep you safe.”

        "How?”

        "Well, you see that up there? That’s the North Star— when it comes out, you make a wish on it. And guess what? If you follow it, it can take you home.”

        You sat on the driveway with Dustin in your lap, staring up into the starry sky. There had been a blackout, and your mother was still working at the hospital. The sudden darkness had scared the boy, and you tried to calm his cries by bringing him outside.

        "It can?”

        "Yeah, and do you wanna know the coolest thing?”

        "Wha?”

        "Sometimes stars fall from the sky. They say bye-bye to their mommies and they go on their own adventure. They fly by and spread their magic dust to make you happy.”

        "Really? They not scawed?”

        "Maybe, but it’s okay to be scared. Their mommies are always watching.”

        "And sisters?”

        "Yeah buddy, their sisters watch them too.”

        Dustin leaned against you, staring up at the sky with awe in his bright blue eyes. The stars, despite the blackout, kept on moving.

        "Is Mommy still working?”

        "Yeah, the hospital needs a lot of help, so she’s staying late.”

        "I sleep with you?”

        He looked up at you with pleading puppy-dog eyes, and how could you say no to that? You sighed and gently nodded.

        "Yeah, you can sleep in my room 'til Mom gets back.”

        He cheered and leaned against you, his eyes starting to close, and for a second, you thought a comet shot through the sky.

        You wished things were different.

        "Stars— the answer is stars.” Your voice came out shaky and unsure, and you held your breath until finally, after what felt like years, the final lock clicked open and fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

        "Correct— for centuries, the stars have guided the lost, and today, their memory guides you forward. Whenever you feel lost in your heart, unsure of how to navigate the darkness within, then look to the night sky. Follow the stars and allow them to guide you, just as they guided others long ago. Just as the stars keep moving, so will you. Congratulations— you have passed the test and may continue on your journey.”

        You held your breath, your eyes wide with shock. Your heart raced as you stood still, as if one wrong move would send you back to the start of the labyrinth. But your anxiety melted into joy when you realized that you had done it— you had passed the first test. You let out a shaky breath, your trembling hands quickly rubbing away the joyous tears that poured down your cheeks. Breaking into a smile, you turned to the orb, pointing at it with a determined fire in your eyes.

        "See that, Eddie?! Fuck you, I did it! Bring it on!”

        Chrissy smiled and tried to hide her laugh. She closed her glowing eyes, and when she blinked them open, she was herself again.

        "Do watch out for traps, won’t you? I would like to see you at the banquet.”

        "Banquet?”

        "Yes, I would like to see you there alive and well. We have a celebration coming up and would love to have you there.”

        You stared at her with confusion etching your features— as if you would voluntarily spend another second in this godforsaken place.

        Chrissy stepped aside as the door swung open, exposing a topiary of a lion on the other side of the passage. You turned to her as she stretched and yawned, her form shifting back to her more animal-like appearance. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you were finally able to voice your concern.

        "Are the next trials harder?”

        "Well, everything has its difficulties and everything has its solutions. You’ll be fine, just keep looking ahead.”

        "Alright, thank you!”

        You took a deep breath, and with a newfound excitement, you passed through the doorway, your eyes trained on the topiary ahead. You looked back at Chrissy, who seemed to settle into sleep, and with a wide smile, you began to run. Your shoes pounded against the flagstone floor as you hurried through the passage.

        But then the flagstone was gone, there was no ground, and your eyes widened as you fell down a gaping abyss. You clawed at the edge of the stone, but it was too late. Your heart raced as you helplessly flailed your arms, the darkness swallowing the scream you let out as you plummeted into the unknown. Was this the your fate all along? Had you made the wrong choice? Gone the wrong way? Were you going to die?

       "I should have looked where I was stepping."

        You fell down, down into the abyss, and the darkness consumed you.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I know it took almost a year to get here but it's here! I'm a full time college student and coming up with original puzzles for this was no easy feat I'll tell you what. I promise I haven't given up yet! Don't forget to reblog, like and comment it really helps! (gosh I sound like a Youtuber lol) But anyways thank you again for reading and back to the writing cave I go!

Taglist: (If you want to be placed on it comment under here)

@fan-girl-97 @sh0wthyself @maxstecc @mirkwoodshewolf @bellalillyrose @under-the-clouds @bllshtbel @ali-r3n @darknesseddiem @ladyjbrekker @mewchiili

[futurecorps3]

Hobie Brown partying with latina!reader<3

Masterlist<3

SUGGESTIVE!!! MDNI GO AWAY OR ILL BITE YOU

I’m already giggling about this shit and haven’t even started it 🤭 just picture that emoji cause that’s how i look rn. This is written from my perspective which is from a mexican living in Mexico going to 100% mexican perreos!!!

-It took a while to convince him to be honest

-Don’t take it the wrong way though!! He’s supportive and go ahead, perrea hasta el suelo but it’s just not his scene

-He’s not a reggaetón hater, he believes every type of music has a merit to it!! BUT ITS JUST NOT HIS SCENE

-Hacerle ojitos was enough to convince him lmao

-“Mi amor please! I want you to meet my friends” You whined, looking up at him all dressed up for the party that started in about thirty minutes. How could he say no when you were looking so pretty? “Shit ‘aight” He muttered, leaving to do his makeup as you kissed his cheek sweetly

-Now when y’all get there

-HE’S ASTONISHED TO SAY THE LEAST

-Yeah sure, mosh pits were crazy and the pubs he frequently attended were also wild but seeing

-People making out with a stranger then the next, some couple basically fucking in the couch next to the door, a girl downing shots like there was no tomorrow, besos de tres, and most importantly; el perreo.

-My man gets shy n shit like he holds your hand. pls help him no entiende nada

-Your friend approaches you with two plastic cups with some golden liquid that didn’t even reach the half of the cup. “Hey Hobie! Nice to meet ya’, my name’s Martha. Tengan, para ambientarse and getting the party started for you two!”

-Hobie thought it was dumb to drink so little of something, even more when he saw how effortlessly you downed your shot. “What’s this shit?”

-Tequila. It was Herradura. Now he knows why you pour so little for a single shot.

-HE WAS WHEEZING, SPILLING HIS GUTS OUT AND ABSOLUTELY BAFFLED BECAUSE HOW DID YOU DRINK THAT WITHOUT EVEN FLINCHING?????

-Your male friends definitely laughed a bit at that, pero en buena onda, they know how important Bee is to him so they’d never be mean to him hehe

-“Ay cabrón, Martha le dio tequila?” One of your friends say while laughing, his arm rounding your boyfriend’s tall figure “Sí, no soportó” You laugh back, kissing Hobie softly

-Your friends got to know him, silently questioning his intentions and stuff but not like they’re your parents. They mean well!! They just want their friend to be happy with this new dude, and some of them are men, so they definitely know how shit they can be

-“So this is what usually happens?” He asks, looking around as he takes it all in “Yup” you nod, popping the ‘p’ and smiling “I love it”.

-He found it all very freeing; no one judging, everyone moving as they pleased and drinking like hangovers weren’t real. No labels, no consistency. Just fun.

-Then… your friends pulled you to the circle to dance

-And he was done for.

-Seeing how you moved your hips in circles (something he was now sure was sort of a generic gift) changed his life forever

-You danced with your girlfriends, making a line of grinding and twerking from time to time. Some of their boyfriends reaching out to dance with them

-“Holy shit” Hobie muttered, entranced by how you ass moved in those shorts “Yeah, it’s something else” One of your friends who was now friends with Hobie (bonding over playing vodka beer pong) answered.

-“Try to dance with her man, I know you’re foreign and stuff but I don’t think Y/N/N would mind teaching you”

-His feet take him to you before he knows

-“Want me to teach you, love?” You shout so he can hear you over the music, and he just nods with a smile, holding your hands

-“Your work is just moving with me with your hands on my hips, look at Martha and her boyfriend”. He noticed how your best friend’s boyfriend kept a tight grasp on Martha’s hips, going down with her and up again if she did.

-Hobie replicated his moves and soon he got the hang of it

-Big, ring-clad fingers holding your waist tightly as he loosened his hips and felt your ass grinding against his crotch. You can feel how his tall figure looms over you, towering your smaller frame and you love it.

-As he gets more confident, he starts pulling you closer, kissing your neck from time to time and pulling away for a bit so you can scream some lyrics with your friends and then go back to him.

-It's safe to say he has a boner, yeah

-To you? It felt like an absolute dream! Imagine him grinding behind you to some track of Un Verano Sin Ti as he sings along to some of the chorus’s lyrics <3

-You got wasted, danced the night away, he perfected his spanish and you accomplished your dream; ver a Hobie Brown, el punk, perreando.

˚ · • . ° .

TAGS: @kirbyskisses @angeliquecherie @cowboycurtis56 @backyard-bear @lilacspider @gktyo @katsukiswrld @elusive-honeydew @solanawrld

I'm actively ignoring my full inbox to write this so it better not flop. HERMANAS lemme know if u like it and leave in the replies what else would you like to see from hobie with a latina reader

Remember, the best way to support writer’s works on here is by REBLOGGING WITH TAGS. I’d very much appreciate it if you did!

Thanks again, stranger. Hope you have a nice day<3

NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO REPOST AS THEIR OWN/TRANSLATE/OR COPY MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM OR SPACE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT CONSENT.

[ishomieokay]

Idolatry (Chapter 4)

+18 5.9K, homelander x hispanic oc, age difference, manipulation, controlling behaviour, unhealthy relationships, mild racism, hurt/comfort. (4/?) AO3 link. part 1, part 2, part 3.

Homelander's fooling around with a perky Latina almost twenty years his junior. She's looking for a daddy. He just wants a good fuck, and maybe to mess with Maeve's head. It's not going to end well.

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Aura María stirred, her mind still caught in the haze of sleep. The sheets felt smooth and comforting around her, but something else caught her attention. She wasn’t alone. A smile crept onto her face, the memories of the night flooding back to her. She turned her head and found Homelander lying next to her. He was perfectly still, his blue eyes wide open and sharp as they gazed out at nothing in particular. He seemed strangely alert.

Aura María shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow. “Hey,” she said, her voice still groggy, “did you sleep at all?”

Homelander turned his head toward her, his expression unreadable. His lips curled into a casual smile, but there was something unnerving about how still he held himself. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said, his tone light as he rolled onto his side to face her. “A little. I don’t sleep much.”

Aura María frowned. “Oh. Is it like, an insomnia thing? Or you just don’t need to?”

Homelander shrugged, as if he didn't know the answer himself. “A bit of both,” he replied, and suddenly, it was like a switch was flipped. That familiar, easygoing charm was radiating from him again. “Sometimes it feels like a waste of time, you know? Sleeping. There’re so many things to do. Fight crime, help the helpless, take a quick trip around the Earth.”

“Watch me sleep?” Aura María rolled her eyes at his flabbergasted expression. “Yeah, I noticed. Creepy much?”

Homelander pursed his lips, then gave her a playful nudge. “Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve got superhuman vision. Then you’ll understand.”

Although she smiled, her thoughts lingered on his words. The idea of him watching her sleep wasn’t exactly comforting, but his easy, charming demeanor made it hard to dwell on anything too seriously. With a small stretch, she sat up, running a hand through her hair. “I’m making breakfast,” she said with a smile, then slipped out of bed and headed towards the kitchen.

Her skin tingled as the cool air brushed against her. The thrill of the night before still cursed through her veins, subdued but certainly noticeable. As she set out to make breakfast, she was overcome by a giddy feeling. She hummed quietly to herself, her hands working the dough rhythmically. She felt lighter than usual, strangely at ease as the sizzling sound of the frying pan filled the air. He’s probably never tried this, she thought with a smile, but he’ll like it.

Homelander sat at the table, arms crossed in front of him, watching her like a king awaiting a royal meal. “O-okay, I see you’re channeling your inner housewife,” he teased, a playful grin on his face. “I could get used to this, you know? A beautiful girl in my bed, homemade food the morning after. I wonder what’s next?” Then, a worried look crossed his features. “You’re not going to knit me a sweater, are you?”

Aura María turned, smirking as she wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Sorry, pal. Knitting sweaters isn’t really a thing in the Caribbean. If you need something to warm you up, I’m your ticket to ride, though.” She winked at him, feeling bold and playful. Homelander blinked at her, then whistled cheekily. 

“Bring it on, firecracker,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m ready for whatever you throw at me.”

Aura María paused. She had heard that nickname before, but Homelander hadn’t used it on her. Unwilling to let it affect her, she turned back towards the stove. When the arepas were ready, golden and crisp, she plated them neatly and carried them over to the table. Homelander seemed curious. His posture was as straight and perfect as ever, his eyes following her as she approached. Aura María set the plate in front of him.

For a moment, Homelander just looked at the food. His expression faltered slightly – a brief flash of something that looked like confusion, or maybe annoyance, crossed his face. It lasted long enough for Aura María to notice, though he quickly masked it with a grin. Aura María felt a flicker of disappointment but quickly brushed it aside. Homelander was probably raised on all-American breakfast – bacon, pancakes, fried eggs. He wasn’t used to foreign food, that was all.

“What are these?”

“They’re called arepas. It’s like bread, only we use cornmeal instead of flour,” she explained. “I stuffed them with avocado and shredded chicken, but you can go for any filling you like. Just try one, trust me.”

“Arepas, uh?” Homelander poked at one, his tone light. There was something underneath it, though. “Not exactly the stack of waffles I was dreaming with.”

“Ay, papi. Don’t tell me you’re a fussy eater,” Aura María teased, nudging his side. “That’s okay, I was kinda picky too when I was little. My mom used to serve me a plate full of arepas and tell me they were like spinach. You know, like Popoye? Fuel up with this, and you might just join a superhero league, she’d say.”

Homelander didn’t try to hide his incredulity. For a brief moment, it looked like he might refuse, but at last he signed in defeat. He picked up an arepa, eyeing it with mock seriousness, as if it were a risky challenge. “Here goes nothing,” he declared, taking a bite. For a moment, his face remained neutral. Aura María held her breath.

Then, something shifted in Homelander’s expression. His brow relaxed, and he nodded, swallowing with a look of begrudging approval. “Well, well”, he said, leaning back in his chair. “Not bad all. I feel stronger already. Maybe even stronger than I was five minutes ago. Careful, you’re creating a force beyond all comprehension.”

Homelander finished the first arepa quickly and reached for another. “You might just have to be my personal chef from now on,” he joked, winking at her. “What else do you have up your sleeve, uh?”  

Aura María rolled her eyes. “Not much, for now. How about some coffee to go with that, though?” She stood up to turn off the coffee maker, then glanced back at him.

Homelander shook his head minutely. “No drugs for this guy. It’s in the contract,” he said, then pointed to himself with mock pride. “Gotta be clean as a whistle.”

Aura María raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was joking. “That’s taking the no-drugs policy a bit foo far, don’t you think?”

“I don’t really mind,” he replied. There was an air of self-satisfaction around him. “Sides, I’m perfectly fine without it. But you keep sipping that – more for you.”

“Whatever. You’re missing out.”

Homelander grinned, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed.

“This is nice,” he said, seeming thoughtful. “We should do it again—though maybe next time you could whip up a classic American breakfast instead. Just a thought. You know how I like things simple.”

Aura María laughed, but as she poured herself a cup of coffee, she couldn’t shake the small knot of unease that formed in her chest. As she finished cleaning up, she caught a glimpse of Homelander out of the corner of her eye, his expression unreadable as he watched her.

…

Aura María sat at her desk in the editing room at Vought Studios. The gentle hum of the equipment enveloped her. It was a sound she found comforting, especially after long periods of time working on set. Editing had always been easier for her than directing, for a number of reasons. It didn’t require her to interact with large numbers of people, for starters – an endeavor she had always found tiresome, even as a child. Working on her own and for long hours before a computer screen had never felt like a chore to her but rather a welcomed respite.

Still, her concentration faltered today. The footage played on the screen, scenes of The Deep striking a series of heroic poses after saving a sinking boat on the coasts of Hawaii. She’d been trying to assemble the sequence for over an hour now to no avail. Once again, Homelander inhabited her thoughts. His ravenous stare as he loomed over her, his heavy breathing at the shell of her ear, his steady hands and warm body, always hidden under the smooth layers of the suit.

Aura María drank from her water bottle, trying to quench a sudden, overwhelming thirst. This was not a feeling she was familiar with. The quickening heartbeat, the deep-seated warmth, the unbidden craving for touch. There was an undeniable quality to Homelander. An allure in his unblemished celebrity smile, in the overwhelming power he displayed for the cameras. He was the blueprint of the ideal man for millions of women all around the world, and for some reason, he’d taken an interest in her. It was still hard for her to believe.

There was more to Homelander than his public persona, though. In private, he was different, although not always for the better. He had a temper, unusual appetites and an elusive sadness clung to him. He confided in her secrets that only a small number of people knew about. His real name, Maeve’s affair, Vought’s cover story for him. Facets of himself that rendered him less an invincible champion and more a man yearning for affection, someone in need of authentic companionship.

America only knew the Homelander on stage—the one with the perfect hair and the dashing smile, the one who recited Bible verses at rallies and never swore and pledged allegiance to the flag, but Aura María had seen more than that. Her fingers brushed over the keyboard absentmindedly. She was still unable to focus.

That first night on his penthouse, just after the gala, she got a glimpse of the real Homelander. Now she knew that he wasn’t the perfect paragon of virtue that for years had been sold to the press. He was a deviant in bed. He could be awkward and hesitate, and late at night when his guard was down, there was a weariness to him. Aura María remembered the way he had looked at her in Central Park, when at last he confessed that the biopic was a fabrication. His piercing blue eyes had softened, as if relived he could put a stop to the charade, if only for a little while.

He trusts me, Aura María thought, and a wave of warmth spread through her. She was also afraid, though. She knew better than anyone what was the price to pay for unveiling Vought’s secrets. More than once, she had seen colleagues and acquaintances fall down that slippery slope, hoping to make a few bucks out of a Supe scandal. It was career suicide, as far as she was concerned, and certainly not something she wanted to be involved in. By confiding in her, Homelander was unknowingly putting her job at risk.

Who else knows about this, anyway? Surely, I’m not the only one. Did Madelyn? Did Stormfront? Does Maeve?

Maeve. The discussion she’d overheard at the door of Homelander’s trailer often tugged at the edges of her mind, but Aura María always brushed it aside. Queen Maeve didn’t seem the kind to forgive easily. Breakups usually bring out the worst in people, and her relationship with Homelander had not been particularly healthy, if he was to be believed. Perhaps animosity was to be expected. She wasn’t sure she wanted to consider the other possibility.

With a sign, Aura María clicked the mouse, resuming the footage. The documentary flickered back to life on screen, but she wasn’t really watching it.

…

Aura María stood at the edge of the red carpet, her heart pounding in her chest. The lights outside the theater blazed like a thousand suns. Cameras flashed everywhere, capturing every moment, every glance, every tiny misstep. The premiere of the new Seven film had drawn the usual crowd—media personalities, A-list celebrities, and, of course, hundreds of fans—all hungry for a glimpse of the evening’s main attraction. 

Homelander was at the center of it all, basking in the attention like a god among mortals. He smiled brightly for the cameras, his arm around Aura María’s waist as he guided her through the chaos with the confidence of someone who had done this a thousand times before. His grip was firm, but gentle enough to be protective, reassuring. Aura María forced a smile, feeling the heat of the flashing bulbs sear into her skin.

The cat was out of the bag. With this one public appearance they had confirmed what the media had been suspecting for weeks now. María Dávila and the Homelander were dating. She wasn’t sure what to feel. Her dress, a sleek red number that clung to her figure, was tight around her ribs. It had fit just fine last week at the store, but now it felt like it was a few sizes too small. Aura María swallowed hard, trying to keep her nerves at bay, but the noise, the clamor of the press, the endless barrage of voices calling out to them, felt like a tidal wave crashing down on her.

“Homelander, over here! Look this way!”

“María, how does it feel to be the new woman on Homelander’s arm?”

“Homelander, what’s next for the Seven after this film?”

The questions were relentless, each one sharper and more invasive than the last. Homelander didn’t miss a beat. He answered effortlessly, his voice smooth and controlled. Aura María clung to his arm, her fingers gripping the sleeve of the suit, trying to steady herself against the storm of attention. She had dressed carefully for the evening – modestly, but not enough to seem like a prude, subtle jewelry, hair pinned up – but under the harsh lights and the scrutinizing eyes of the press, she felt unsure. Somehow inadequate.

“It’s a great movie,” Homelander said with a grin that dazzled the crowd. “A celebration of everything the Seven stand for, that’s for sure.”

Aura María struggled not to make a face. She had seen the movie already, at a private screening weeks before, and she thought it was mediocre, at best. Full of clichés and bombastic action sequences that lacked any real depth. She had stayed quiet, though, knowing how proud Homelander was of it. His ego wouldn’t handle that level of critique. He was talent, after all. Now, hearing him speak about it with such delight, she felt a pang of guilt.

“Smile, chica,” Homelander whispered into her ear, his voice low and smooth. The warmth of his breath sent a shiver down her spine. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her cheek as the cameras flashed around them. “You look like someone just kicked your puppy. They don’t like that.”

Aura María’s heart fluttered, and she smiled for the cameras, trying to push away the anxiety gnawing at her insides. Homelander was trying to help her – his hand never straying from her back, his arm always there to guide her, to keep her close. She should feel grateful. She should feel safe. To some extent, she did. But the weight of the attention, the endless eyes on them, on her – it was overwhelming.

Do I even belong here? The thought flickered through her mind, uninvited. These events were his world, not hers. The media swarmed around them, circling like jackals ready to feast on fresh gossip. She hadn’t signed up for this level of scrutiny. She was a filmmaker, not a celebrity, and yet here she was, paraded like a prize at Homelander’s side. A part of her wanted nothing more than to retreat back into the shadows.

Homelander reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. She glanced up at him, feeling both grateful and trapped. As they posed for more pictures, a reporter moved closer, microphone extended toward them.

“Aura María,” he said brightly, “what’s it like to be here tonight? Are you excited to see the Seven’s new film?”

Aura María opened her mouth to answer, but Homelander was quicker. “Course she is! She’s been incredibly supportive,” he said, his voice smooth as velvet as he answered for her. “Couldn’t have done it without her.”

The reporter nodded eagerly, jotting down notes, before moving on to the next question. Aura María blinked, the words she had planned to say evaporating into the air. She searched for Homelander’s eyes, but he was already smiling for the next set of cameras, effortlessly shifting their attention elsewhere. He didn’t seem to notice her discomfort.

They continued down the red carpet. Aura María’s smile felt more and more strained with each step. She could feel her anxiety rising, her chest tightening. The weight of his arm around her waist, which had initially been comforting, now felt like it was holding her in place, keeping her tethered to him. Every time she tried to step away from the press, Homelander gently steered her back, whispering reassurances in her ear.

“Just a few more pictures,” he murmured, squeezing her waist. “Gotta keep the beast well-fed, if you don’t want it to bite.”

…

Out in the balcony the night air was cool and still, the noise from the event muted by the thick glass doors. The world seemed quieter there, smaller. Aura María stepped out onto the terrace, feeling her shoulders relax for the first time since they’d arrived at the premiere. The gentle hum of the city below was a welcomed reprieve. She could still hear the murmur of voices and music from the party, but out here, it was bearable.

Homelander followed after her, letting the glass doors shut firmly behind him. The smile he had worn all night – the one that dazzled the cameras and charmed the roaring crowd – slipped away. This was the other version of him. More subdued, quieter. He leaned on the railing beside her, his gaze fixed on the city lights sprawling out beneath them. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, his hands gripping tightly the cool metal.

Aura María watched him carefully, sensing the shift in his mood. His jaw was clenched, his brow furrowed in thought. “You okay, papi?” she asked gently, reaching out to place her hand on his arm.

He didn’t answer immediately. His eyes remained locked on the skyline. After a long moment, he let out a quiet, frustrated sign. “I lied to you, you know? Sorry about that,” he said, rubbing his face tiredly.

Aura María blinked, not understanding. “About what?”

“On our first date, you asked me if I ever got tired of it. The cameras, the crowds.” Homelander shook his head, his expression hardening for a second before softening into something that resembled exhaustion. “Everyone looking at you, expecting something. It’s like you’re always on display, but no one wants to see the real you. They want you to perform for them 24/7, like a fucking monkey.”

Aura María frowned, her hand still resting on his arm. “I didn’t think it bothered you,” she said quietly. “You’re always so good at handling it.”

Homelander let out a laugh, the sound low and humorless. “It’s part of the job, right? I’m The Homelander. I have to be perfect for them, give them the smiles, the poses, the show. They don’t want the real me,” he said, turning his head just enough to glance at her. His eyes looked darker than usual. “No, I always gotta be Johnny-on-the-spot. Their Boy Scout, their Good Samaritan. But don’t lay it too hard on the Bible! That’s gonna alienate the libtards and the blue haired weirdos! Like I give a fuck what those people think.”

Aura María furrowed her brow, unsure of what to say. He was the most powerful man in the world, untouchable, adored by millions. She hadn’t realized he had such a tenuous control over his public image. Maybe she should have, though. Stan Edgar would never allow one of the company’s greatest assets to just do whatever he wanted. Everyone at Vought was just a pawn to him, even the Homelander. It was an unsettling realization. 

“To them, I’m just a pretty face,” Homelander said, his voice barely above a whisper now. “A product. Talent for Vought to parade around. They don’t care about what I want, or what I think. I’m just there to sell the image, to follow orders. To be Stan Edgar’s good little puppet.” His hand tightened on the railing, his knuckles turning white. “I’m sick of it.”

“I’m sorry,” Aura María said, hesitantly. “I mean, I know working for Vought is not exactly a walk in the park, but… I guess I never realized it was that bad.”

Homelander shook his head again, cutting her off. “Of course you didn’t. No one does. Because Vought doesn’t want you to.” He crossed his arms, his gaze darkening. There it was again – that childlike petulance. “They all think they know better than me. But they don’t. This company would be nothing without me. Stan thinks he’s so fucking smart, and he doesn’t even realize that Starlight is working for the opposition. But whatever. He’s gonna be dead within the year, anyway. Heart disease, you know? He’s weak. It’s fucking pathetic.”

Aura María was taken aback by the resentment in his voice. She had never heard Homelander speak like this before, never seen this much raw anger in him. It unsettled her. Although it made sense for someone so influential to have frustrations, the callousness of his words still caught her off guard. “You don’t mean that,” she said, placing a hand over his chest.

Homelander’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with anger. “I do,” he said simply. “People disappoint me. Over and over again. They want to use me and put me on display like I’m on a fucking circus. They want to take and take from me until there’s nothing left. Humans are weak and greedy, and so fucking manipulative and I’m sick of pretending otherwise. I’m sick of letting them control me.”

Aura María stared. She could hear the bitterness in his voice, the righteous anger that simmered just beneath the surface. Although it made her uneasy, she reminded herself that he was human too – even if he seemed to be blind to that fact. He had every right to feel slighted or betrayed. To expect otherwise would be unfair. She took a deep breath and placed her hand on his, gently prying his fingers from the railing.

“I’m human too. Remember?” she said. “And I want you. The real you.”

Homelander looked at her then, his anger fading into something softer.

“Do you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, uncertain. “Because I’m not sure anyone really does.”

“I do,” Aura María whispered, squeezing his hand. “I see you. And I like what I see. Others will like it, too. I know there’s bad people in this world, but there’s also good people. You just have to take a chance. I promise, not all of us are out to get you.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Homelander just looked at her, seeming lost. His face softened, then, as if her words had reached some part of him that had long been buried. He let out a long, weary sigh, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. “You know, for a human, you’re alright,” he said with a hint of a smile.

Aura María smirked at him, a small, tender gesture.

“Yeah, I’m pretty great, not gonna lie.”

…

Aura María moved down the hallway, the soft click of her heels echoing in the otherwise silent space. The glass walls reflected her image back at her – a little disheveled, but still poised. Her dress, crumpled slightly from the events of the night before, clung to her, a reminder of Homelander’s lingering touch. She smoother her hand down the fabric as she walked, hoping not to run into anyone as she made her way out of Vought Tower. 

Her hand tightened around the strap of her bag as she approached the elevator. Pulling out a compact mirror she glanced at her flection once more – the slightly smudged makeup, the tousled hair, the faint shadow of a smile still playing on her lips. The elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss. Just as she was about to step inside, a voice called out to her from behind.

“María.”

She turned to find Queen Maeve leaning casually against a doorway, staring intently at her. The sight of her sent a ripple of unease through Aura María. Maeve’s presence always carried a certain weight – there was a sharpness, an intensity to her that was impossible to ignore. “Can we talk?” Maeve’s tone was direct, giving little room for refusal.

Aura María hesitated, glancing around the empty hallway before nodding.

“Yeah, sure.”

Maeve opened the door of her penthouse and stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter. Aura María obliged, mostly because she couldn’t find a reason not to. As soon as she made it inside, Maeve got into her personal space, her eyes studying Aura María as if she were the world’s most difficult puzzle. “You’re getting close to Homelander,” she said bluntly, not bothering with pleasantries. “Too close.”

Aura María’s heart skipped a beat. She kept her face neutral, though, not wanting to betray the sudden flash of fear rising in her chest. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You know exactly what I mean,” Maeve said, arching an eyebrow. “You guys are all over the news. I mean, in case you didn’t know. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And I’ve seen the way you look at him. I’m telling you now – whatever you think this is, whatever you think he feels for you, it’s bad news. Walk away while you still can.”

Aura María’s stomach twisted. “With all due respect, Maeve,” she said, forcing herself to remain calm. “Whatever is happening between Homelander and me is, frankly, none of your business.”

Maeve rubbed her forehead, then let out a humorless laugh. “Listen, María, I’m telling you this for your own good. Homelander is not a good guy. He’s very good at pretending. Frighteningly good. But sooner or later, you’re gonna meet the real him, and you’re not gonna like it. Not one bit.”

Aura María felt her defenses go up, but was quick to restrain herself. She took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “Okay. Why don’t you let me find that out by myself?” she said, her voice smooth and easy. “I know you guys didn’t have… the best relationship, alright? And I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you, I really am. But that has nothing to do with me. With… us. And I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but I don’t need you to look out for me. I’m a big girl.”

Maeve stepped closer, her eyes flashing with something dark and dangerous. “Listen, María. You don’t know him the way I do. You don’t know the things he’s done. I’ve been where you are. I know exactly what it feels like to think he cares, to think you’re special to him. But let me tell you something – he’s a liar. He’s dangerous. He can’t love anyone. Not the way you think.”

Aura María swallowed hard, a lump forming in her throat. “You’re wrong,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I mean, God knows he’s not perfect, but give him a break. You make it sound like he’s some fucking monster.”

Maeve’s expression softened, just slightly. “I too made excuses for him. And I paid the price for it. You think you know him, but you don’t.” Her face hardened then, an edge creeping into her voice. “He is a monster, María. He doesn’t care about you – he only cares about controlling you. About using you. You’re boosting his numbers and that’s all that matters to him. Look at the tabloids if you don’t believe me.”

The words hit Aura María like a slap, but she refused to let them sink. She couldn’t. Maeve didn’t understand. This was her first relationship, ever. She had lost her virginity to him. Homelander made her feel things no one else ever had – affection, desire, safety. He was her only friend, her one companion in a foreign country where she had no family, no connections of any kind expect a high-stress job where no one was to be trusted. She couldn’t walk away from it, from him, just because an ex-girlfriend she barely knew was bad mouthing him.

“That’s not true,” Aura María said, shaking her head. “Look, this is getting really weird for me. So just step aside and let me leave, because I’m not having this conversation with you. It’s not my fault if you still have feelings for him.”

Maeve’s jaw clenched. “I’m telling you this because I know what he’s capable of. I’ve seen it firsthand. He’s not someone you can trust. He’ll chew you up and spit you out the moment you stop being useful to him.”

Aura María took a step back, feeling a deep coldness spreading through her chest. “Look, this whole girl’s girl act doesn’t suit you at all, Maeve. Let’s cut the bullshit,” she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “Why are you even doing this? You have a girlfriend. Is it really so hard for you to accept that he moved on, too?”

Maeve’s eyes flashed with anger, but she quickly regained her composure. “You think I’m bitter? Fine. Think whatever you want, María. I’m just trying to warn you before it’s too late. He’s not who you think he is.”

With that, Maeve stepped aside and let her out of the penthouse. Aura María was left standing alone in the empty hallway. She pressed the button again, and waited for the elevator. Her chest tightened as the conversation replayed in her mind. Maeve’s words lingered, heavy and unsettling, but she refused to let them take root. Homelander wasn’t a monster. She couldn’t believe that the man who had held her so tenderly, who had confided in her, who had shared time and again his deepest fears with her, was the same person Maeve was describing.

Aura María shook her head. Maeve was just another woman of Homelander’s past. They had their own problems, their own baggage. There had been many others after her – Starlight, Stormfront, Madelyn. The past was the past, though, and she was living in the present. Aura María wasn’t going to let any of them poison her relationship. It wouldn't be fair to her, nor to Homelander.  

…

Aura María sat on the edge of her bed, the dim light of her phone casting a soft glow across the darkened room. It felt emptier than usual tonight, quieter. She wrapped her arms around her knees, resting her chin atop them. Her eyes were fixed on the screen. She had been scrolling through her messages with Homelander for almost an hour, reading over their conversations. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for. A text popped up.

Hey there missy

Wat u doing?

Her heart fluttered despite herself. It usually did, whenever his name appeared on the screen. Homelander’s rizz was certainly old-fashioned, but not as bad as one would think, taking into account he was in his mid-forties. It always did the trick, as embarrassing as it was to admit. It had only been a few hours since they’d last seen each other, but she found herself missing him already. It was nice to her from him, to feel the pull of his presence, even through a few simple words.

Nuthing. Just getting ready for bed.

Aura María bit her lip. She stared at the chat box, wondering if she should tell him about her conversation with Maeve. She didn’t want to seem jealous, much less create a problem where there was none. The longer she thought about it, the more restless she became, though. Maeve wasn’t the first to question their relationship. Aura María’s father had also been incensed, although his motives were largely different. Ay, esta carajita, pero ¿cómo se le ocurre?, he said through the phone, trying and failing not to sound judgmental. ¡Ese señor es muy mayor pa’ uste!

Aura María signed, setting the phone down on the cushion next to her. The apartment felt lonely without Homelander around. She hadn’t realized until now how much space he had taken up in her life – how quickly she had come to rely on his company. Without him, everything seemed boring and mundane. It was as if a part of her was missing, like a constant itch on her skin that only his attention could soothe. She wondered why. They had only been seen each other for a few weeks.

Perhaps it was not about him, though. Perhaps it was the loneliness. She felt it now, like a weight pressing down on her, reminding her of all the empty spaces that had been there before he arrived. She didn’t have anyone else. Only distant voices on the phone, texts, the occasional Zoom call. Vought had been her world since she had moved to the US, and while her work brought her fulfillment, that wasn’t enough for her. Not anymore.

Her thoughts circled around the events of the day – Maeve’s harsh words echoed in her mind, sharp and foreboding. Aura María glanced at her phone again, the empty chat screen staring back at her, and she felt a flicker of annoyance. What was taking him so long to reply? If he was busy, why had he texted her? She fought the urge to send another message. Even if she felt lonely, Aura María didn’t want to seem clingy or desperate.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed. Aura María opened the chat box and felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Im on patrol. Just wanted to check on you.

She shook her head, then typed, checking on me, uh? No sir, I think you’re just bored. Slow night?

The reply came almost immediately. Bored? Of course not! Just making sure my best gal is okay.

Aura María raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. The best one, uh? I bet you say that to all the girls. She hit sent, biting her lip as she waited.

Only the ones who earn it. You know that.

The message made her roll her eyes. Mmm, smooth. But I’m fine, really. You should focus on your patrol. Don’t let me keep you from saving the world.

She tossed her phone aside for a moment, expecting that to be the end of it. Her phone vibrated again, though. I can multitask. Besides, I like knowing you’re tucked in safe. Even as she let out a small huff, Aura María’s eyes softened at the words. I can handle myself, mister. But thanks for checking in.

Her heart raced a bit more than she wanted to admit when the next message appeared on the screen. I know you can. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop watching out for you. Now go get some sleep, missy. So you can dream of me. She smiled despite herself, feeling an odd mix of flattery and annoyance. She signed dramatically as she typed her final response. Fine, fine. Goodnight, John.

She stared at the message, her fingers hesitating over the send button before she finally pressed it. The name – John – felt so intimate, so personal. She pulled the covers over herself, turning off the beside lamp. Her phone vibrated one last time. She peeked at the screen through sleepy eyes. Buenais noche, preciosa. She set the phone down with a smile, much too charmed to correct his unfortunate spelling.

[adrienneleclerc]

Hey there I was wondering if you could write for Henry Cavill and can it be something like y/n is kind of a newly famous younger singer and is on the Graham Norton Show with Henry and you know he’s always kind of been objectified which kind of makes me sad so maybe Graham mentions that y/n is a fan of Henry and he assume it’s mostly about his looks but y/n asks Henry about gaming and stuff like War Hammer and stuff and he’s really happy that it’s not just a bout his looks and it’s a cute moment as they bond about that stuff and maybe turns a little flirty. Hope that makes sense x

This is so cute! I have watched some Graham Norton interviews with Henry Cavill and I have looked up about War Hammer to make it as accurate as possible, Y/N will be 28, I believe that age gap is good, 12 year age gap like my parents’, hope you like it! Like always, it will be Hispanic Reader because you didn’t clarify ☺️

Nerds in Love

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Henry Cavill and Y/N bond over their love for Warhammer and World of Warcraft in the most unlikely place.

Warning: no warnings.

A/N: im sorry if I keep mentioning Eiza González in my Henry Cavill fanfics but she is literally the only Latina that can be linked to him, the only other Latina is technically Shakira and I don’t think they even talked. Also, I LOVE Becky G so she will ALWAYS be like a reference when it comes to outfits or songs when writing about “singer! Reader”

Y/N was in the recording booth, recording her new song.

“Soy muy buena niña, 100 de calificación, tengo todo bien resuelto, vivo chill de vacación, cerveza, billar, dados, tacos son mi tradición, pero tú eres idiota.” Y/N sang but her manager made a signal to stop and the backing track stopped, Y/N took off her headphones. “What’s going on? I thought it was sounding really good.” Y/N got out of the booth.

“It was, it really was, my dear, but I got a call and Graham Norton wants you on his show as his musical guest.” Y/N manager, Milagros, said. Y/N got a water bottle out of the mini fridge by the soundboard.

“Graham Norton? I didn’t think I was popular enough with the UK crowd, I just started.” Y/N said, drinking water.

“Your song was in a movie, you gained a lot of fans from that. Plus, you’d be surprised how many Europeans LOVE Latinas. Would you be interested? He wants you in 2 weeks.” Milagros said

“I don’t know if I can, I don’t even watch the show.” Y/N said.

“Well, i thought you’d be interested since Henry Cavill will be one the guests.” Milagros said, she turned to leave the studio.

“In 2 weeks, right?” Y/N asked.

“Yes! Okay so Henry Cavill will be there with Eiza González, and Henry Goulding. I’m gonna make the call, continue recording, this song is going to be a hit, I know it.” Milagros walked away to make the call.

“Okay compa, do we start from the top?” Y/N asked, stepping into the booth.

“Yes, that would be preferable.” The music producer said.

Y/N was backstage getting her makeup done.

“Oh my god, I’m so nervous. I’ve seen what people have said about Renee Rapp and how she has no media training, these people will rip me to shreds.” Y/N began to panic to Milagros.

“A ver, mi niña, cálmate, You’re going to be great, you’re going to sing your heart out, sit with the Henries and Eiza, and answer some questions that Graham might have about your musical journey. You’ve been working for this, you’ll be great.” Milagros said. Y/N was wearing a decent performance outfit that’s also TV appropriate.

“And welcoming the Latin Pop Princess of the moment, here’s Y/N L/N singing her hit, ‘Arranca’” Graham announced and Y/N walk out on stage wearing this.

She sang her song and everyone applauded. Y/N walked over to sit next to Henry Goulding.

“Y/N, that was a spectacular performance, honestly.” Graham complimented her.

“Oh thank you, I was very nervous, this is my first TV appearance.” Y/N responded.

“Does not seem like it. I’ve heard that you are a big fan of Henry Cavill.” Graham said.

“Oh yes, I really am.” Y/N responded, nodding her head excitedly.

“Are you a fan of his shirtless movie scenes?” Graham asked and Y/N laughed a little before catching a glimpse of Henry who looked a little uncomfortable with Graham’s question.

“No actually, I became a fan of his when I discovered that he’s into Warhammer as well.” Y/N replied and Henry looked at her.

“Really?” Henry asked.

“Yes! I’ve collected quite a few, sometimes I just don’t have the time to paint all of them so there are a few figurines left untouched.” Y/N said.

“Whenever you finish painting, we should play together sometime.” Henry said.

“I’d like that a lot actually, it’s a dream come true to okay Warhammer with the great Henry Cavill, are you kidding?” Y/N said and there a few laughs.

“So Y/N, you’re still new to the industry, only being signed for what, 5 months? How did you get discovered?” Graham asked

“Well, my friend was holding this fundraiser because she runs that performing arts school in New York, the one Timothee Chalamet went too…” Y/N started and there were cheers in the crowd. “Yeah, Timothee is popular, anyway, she needed to replace a performer who got sick, she knows I sing, so instead of playing world of Warcraft that night, I was singing on stage and this woman, who is now my manager, came up to me with this tall guy and said I had a really great voice and if I was interested in becoming a singer.” Y/N said.

The last 6 minutes of the show was just Y/N answering questions because she is new to the industry. When the show finished, Y/N was walking backstage when she felt someone touch her shoulder. She turned around and saw Henry.

“You play world of Warcraft too?” Henry asked.

“Yeah, I do. Along with The Witcher, it’s actually the reason why I became a fan of you. I know I said it with Graham, but it’s awesome that there’s a celebrity with the same hobbies as me, you know? Besides, it’s fun to surprise people who only see me as a pretty face.” Y/N said.

“Yes, I feel the same way, a lot of people see my body and they become a fab of me because they think I’m hot.” Henry said.

“I mean you are hot, but you are so much more than that.” Y/N said

“What do you feel about getting dinner with me right now?” Henry asked. Y/N looked down at her outfit.

“Let me change and I’ll let Milagros know.” Y/N said.

“I’ll wait for you outside the door so we can leave together.” Henry said and Y/N went to her dressing room and told Milagros everything.

“Ay mija, Im so excited for you. Have fun, tell me everything.” Milagros said, giving Y/N her change of clothes.

Y/N walked out and saw Henry on his phone. He looked up as soon as he heard the door open and close.

“You look great. Let’s go.” Henry said, holding out his arm so Y/N could hold on as they started walking out of the studio.

The End

I hope you like it! I was thinking of a part 2 where Henry and Y/N are on the show again and Y/N sings “So American” and they just talk about their relationship. If you think that’s a good idea that is

Taglist: @warriormirkwood

[mintsbubbletea]

𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐨 - 𝐌𝐢 𝐂𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐨

Word Count: 1,455

Contains: Gender Neutral Reader, cursing, fluff at the end.

Proof Read and Edited

A/n: Reader has a plant quirk, I really love plants so I had to use it with my fav boy <3 Mi Cielo means my sky

Part 2

Many people were taken aback when Mr. Aizawa revealed that someone in the class had a Plant quirk. They all looked around, expecting someone with green vines for hair like Shiozaki. But to their surprise, it was you. You didn't fit their expectations at all. With your H/C hair and reserved demeanor, you didn't act like the typical plant-based quirk user. You were more focused on your studies and hero work, not caring about what others thought.

Some might assume that your introverted nature was a result of your parents' lack of affection. However, that couldn't be further from the truth. Your parents were incredibly loving and affectionate, always coming to your room to hug you and share stories about their day. They acted exactly how parents should, and you loved them dearly. But as you grew older, you developed your own opinions and preferences. You didn't want to be touched or show affection to others. Thankfully, your parents understood and respected your boundaries.

Instead of physical affection, you expressed your love by surrounding their house with beautiful plants. You created a lovely garden in the back where they enjoyed their breakfast, and filled the living room with vibrant greenery. Your earthy and down-to-earth touch mirrored their own personalities, and they adored that about you. Your mother, who also had a plant-based quirk, encouraged this as a way for you to show your love. Sometimes, in return for their understanding, you would give them a heartfelt hug.

You couldn't help but fall for Sero, even though you never spoke to anyone in class. Your quietness allowed you to observe him closely, noticing his kindness, his great friendships, and his outgoing nature - all of which caught your eye. However, you couldn't shake the thought that school is meant for education, not for falling in love with a cute boy who has tape coming from his elbows. You felt lost and unsure of what to do, especially since you weren't close to anyone at UA, and telling your parents would only lead to endless teasing.

So, you decided to do something that felt right. You made him plants that reminded you of him. Arriving a few minutes early to class, you pulled out a small succulent from your bag and carefully placed it on Sero's desk. Quickly returning to your seat, the rest of the class entered. "Hey, what's this?" Sero exclaimed, capturing the attention of his friends. "A fucking plant?" Bakugo chimed in. Sero picked up the handmade pot and examined the little plant in his hands. "Yeah, it looks healthy," he said with a smile. "I wonder who put it here," Denki pondered aloud before taking his seat. "Doesn't Y/n grow plants?" Mina questioned. All eyes turned towards you, causing you to freeze as you just opened your bag.

"Nah, they hardly ever talk to us, let alone Sero," Kirishima remarked, causing everyone to turn their gaze towards you. You snapped your head in their direction, a tinge of annoyance evident in your voice as you asked, "Can I help you with something?" Tilting your head slightly, you watched as their expressions froze. "N-nothing! Sorry, Y/n," Kirishima quickly apologized, but Denki interrupted him. "Did you give Sero this plant or not?" he questioned, snatching the pot from Sero's grasp. "Uh, no. Why would I do that?" you scoffed, a hint of sarcasm lacing your words. "Just because I can grow plants doesn't mean I'll do it for all of you," you rolled your eyes before turning away from them. You could have sworn you caught a glimpse of disappointment in Sero's eyes, but you didn't pay it much mind.

The following day, you repeated the same action, except this time, you filled the pot with marigolds, one of Sero's favorite flowers, or so you had overheard. As you settled back into your seat, they all entered the room. "Again?" Mina questioned, while you noticed Sero's eyes widen. "No way?" he exclaimed, a smile spreading across his face as he practically sprinted towards the pot. "It's just a flower, flatface," Bakugo remarked dismissively as he took his seat. "It's a Marigold, my favorite among them all," Sero spoke gently, his fingers caressing the delicate petals. "Hey, little one," he whispered, and in that moment, your heart melted. The way he treated the flowers with reverence and spoke to them, acknowledging that all living nature had feelings, only made you fall for him even more. You turned your head to the side, hiding your flushed face. "Are you alright, Y/n? Your face is turning red-" Before Deku could finish his sentence, you swiftly used your quirk, shooting out vines to cover his mouth. "Shut it," you hissed, glancing back at Bakusquad to ensure they hadn't heard you or Deku. Letting out a sigh, you released him. "Sorry," you said coldly, averting your gaze and capturing the attention of Dekusquad as they exchanged curious glances.

Throughout the week, you delighted in placing a new plant on his desk each day, each one a reminder of Sero. It was impossible to resist the joy of witnessing his reaction and the growing curiosity of your classmates about the flowers he would receive. Today, you hurriedly entered the classroom and carefully set down a Lapageria, a plant you had only read about and seen pictures of. As you placed the pot on the desk, a sudden movement caught you off guard - white tape swiftly wrapped around you. "I knew it!" you heard a voice exclaim. Frozen in place, you found yourself face to face with Sero, a mischievous smirk on his face as his tape held you tightly. "Let me go, Sero," you snapped, determined to maintain your composure. "And why would I do that to my secret admirer?" he teased, inching closer to your face. "Who said I gave you all those flowers?" you spat, struggling to break free from his grip. "I simply walked in and the flowers happened to be there." You glared at him, boldly lying to his face. "I think you're lying~" he smiled, his confidence unwavering. "You can stop pretending now, Y/n. I know it's you."

You let out a defeated sigh, finally giving up the struggle. "Fine, it was," you said, averting your gaze. "I only knew it was you because you were the only person around when I mentioned liking marigolds." Your mouth formed an 'o' shape as you recalled that the Bakusquad was in the lounge area with Sero when he mentioned it, while you were alone in the kitchen. You tried to speak up, but all that came out was a squeak, leaving you speechless. Your face turned red as Sero laughed at your reaction. "I appreciate it, Y/n. I loved coming to school every day to see what kind of plant you grew for me. It made my day," he said softly. Finally gathering the courage, you looked back at him and spoke with a gentle smile, "I'm glad you liked them. These plants are like my babies, and I don't usually give them away without knowing if the person will take care of them." You paused for a moment before continuing, "And seeing you talk to them, acknowledging that they have feelings like we do, made me realize that you are the right person." You quickly shook your head, correcting yourself, "I mean, the right person to take care of the plants, not necessarily the right person for me. Although, I do like you and you kind of are the right person for me, but-" Sero interrupted you, placing a finger on your lips. "I understand what you mean," he chuckled, releasing you from his tape. "But I also think you're the right person for me." Once again, he left you speechless. He glanced behind him, hearing the sound of the approaching class. "Let's continue this conversation in my dorm. There, you can see how your 'babies' are doing," he smiled before leaning close to your ear. "See you later mi cielo" A shiver ran down your spine as the class entered, prompting you to quickly rush to your desk before getting caught.

As they all approached Sero's desk, Momo inquired, "So, which flower did you receive this time, Sero?" With a smile, he replied, "It's a Lapageria, also known as a Chilean bellflower." The sight of the stunning flower left everyone in awe. Ochaco chimed in, "It's absolutely adorable! I wonder who keeps surprising you with these beautiful flowers." Sero glanced at you, his smile gentle as he observed your blushing face. Feeling a mix of emotions, you turned your head away, concealing your smile behind your hand, as you rediscovered the joy of expressing happiness once more.

[jlfletcher]

All I Really Want Is You

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Breakdown

I'm overworking 'til the sundown

Don't see the light inside my head now

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

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

I need to see you in my window

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

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

And I whisper

All I really want is you

What would you do?

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

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

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

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

Laying in the rain with you

Middle of June

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All I really want is you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What would you do?

Sleeping outside, the moon

Tripping with you

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

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

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

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

Head down

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What question?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lyla!”, he groans in annoyance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And we're escaping through the window

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

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

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

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

And I whisper

“What?”, you tilt your head curiously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you truly not eat well?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, may you please-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All I really want is you

What would you do?

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

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

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

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

“So what’s the issue here then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, you think so?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, now you’re pouting.”

“Not pouting.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I am not.” 

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

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

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

Laying in the rain with you

Middle of June

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All I really want is you

What would you do?

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

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

Sleeping outside, the moon

Tripping with you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All I really want is you

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

I love you. 

All I really want is you

What would you do?

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

“Never.”

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

All I really want is you

Is you, is you, is you

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

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