#i also had a couple of weeks off but am now BACK to seeing movies every tuesday at the cinema and it's genuinely the best

[pynkhues]

Hey Sophie, I've never seen a Wes Anderson movie! Any suggestions on what to start with?

Hey! Oooo, yeah, I think I'd say to start either with Fantastic Mr. Fox or The Royal Tenenbaums?

The latter was my entry point to Wes Anderson and is definitely the one of his I've rewatched the most. The cast is amazing, but I think it encapsulates a lot of what I love about his work at its purest which is stylisation and comedy for the sake of emphasising genuinely human moments, and emotional truths that just rip a hole in you. If I was to ever make a list of my top fifty movies, I think The Royal Tenanbaums would be on it (Ben Stiller's line deliver of I've had a rough year, dad is genuinely iconic to me).

Fantastic Mr. Fox I think though is just both good and pretty accessible? His style of writing/direction/filmmaking lends itself well to stop motion, and he's a bit of a dream match for Roald Dahl adaptations tbh. It's a great movie and a great story anyway, and particularly if you feel inclined / know you like animation, I think Fantastic Mr. Fox is a very good place to start.

[cvpidzcvrse]

𝔄𝔯𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔉'𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔩?

MDNI, skadaddle nigga

✦A/N: i swear i try to post more but like but sitting on my ass is just rlly fun to do. BUT OFC I CANT BE GONE FOR LONGG!! also i didn’t proofread so ignore typos. here’s an ony fic that i pushed out my pussy bc i’m hot like that. ENJOY!

⋆.ೃ࿔*･Synopsis: You and ony have been fwb for a few months now. On a strict “no emotions involved” type of situation. But he can’t help it if he gets jealous when you start talking to someone else. Your famous last words? "Make me, nigga."

⋆.ೃ࿔*･Wc: 2,233

⋆.ೃ࿔*･Warnings: Mdom, argument, jealous ony, degradation, light choking, oral male!receiving, manhandling, spanking, face fucking, orgasm denial, fingering, very little praise, he’s mean asf, p in v, and finishing inside (practice safe sex)

(reader is black)

You and Onyankapon have been friends with benefits for a couple of months now. It all started because you wanted to lose your virginity badly. You were gnawing at the bars of your enclosure, being that dick hungry you put pornstars to shame. But you didn’t want to lose something so special to someone you barely knew. So you went down a line of people you knew, most of them you immediately shot down. Connie was a whore, Armin had a girlfriend, Jean is…Jean, so what was left was your best friend. He took the opportunity and ran with it, now you guys fuck at least twice a week.

Ony made the sex strictly just sex, with no relationship or strings attached. Just adults blowing off steam almost every weekend. He said it was ok to talk to other people, that’s where Eren comes in. You met him through Armin 2 weeks ago and you guys haven't stopped talking since. Even now, you’re at Ony’s house watching a movie but you can’t separate your eyes from your screen. He invited you over with the notion of just “watching a movie” but he just wanted to fuck, and you knew that. 

“Me Personally, I’d definitely survive in the quiet place. Like all you have to do is be quiet, it’s easy.”

You nod your head slowly, paying no attention to Ony’s statement. Your fingers are flying across your phone, you’re having a deep conversation with Eren. Ony looks over at you and rolls his eyes, you can feel his attitude radiating off of him and steam coming out of his ears.

“My nigga, you’re not even listening to me,” 

“First, I’m not ‘your nigga’. Secondly, I am listening…”

You trail off after hearing your phone go off with a ding. You snatch your phone out of your lap quickly and start typing away. He gives you the most crazed look he can muster. 

“Nigga, are you f’real?”

You look over at Ony’s reaction and the fact that he’s acting like such a drama queen right now. There’s no way he’s hurt by the fact that you’re talking to other people. He’s the one who made the rules in the first place, so why does he care who you talk to? He’s starting to regret his rule-making skills. Your flawless brown skin-pops with your white hoodie and sweatpants to match. Even before y’all started hooking up he thought you were the most beautiful person ever. 

“Damn, what the fuck are you talking about? Are you good?”

You frowned at his outburst, confused by the sudden change in tone. You finally put your phone to the side and put your attention on Ony. 

“You’ve been on your phone this whole fucking time. Paying absolutely no attention to me or the movie. Who are you even texting?”

“No One-” 

Ding..

Ony groans before snatching your phone out of your lap and softly pushing you back from getting it. You get up from your position on the couch and start reaching over his head but his grip on your wrist won’t budge. 

“Let’s see who you’re so fucking focused on…”

He looks at the screen and goes silent before turning his head at you. You’re standing there with an overly irked look, hands on your hips, and eyeing him up and down.

“...Eren!? Eren fucking Jeager!? Don’t tell me you’re actually talking to that sorry ass nigga?’

You roll your eyes at his possessiveness. There’s no reason why he should be concerned about who you text and who you decide to mingle with. It’s your pussy and can determine who it wants, right? 

“It’s not something you should be concerned about. Shit, just give me the dick so I can leave, that’s why you called me over right?”

His eyes go wide at your boldness. He can’t tell if you’re upset or just trying to rile him up—either way, it’s making him go insane. 

“Take that bass out yo’ voice mama. I’m looking out for you, Eren isn’t the type you want. Stop talking to that nigga”

He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue showing clear signs of irritation. His baritone voice sends chills down your spine. Even when he’s irritated he still looks handsome, the warning look in his eyes makes your pussy clench.

“Who are you talking to right now? I ain’t gotta do shit, f’real. I’m not gonna let some Chiptole bag-tatted ass nigga tell me what the fuck to do.” 

Ony’s eyes are bulging out of his head and the vein on his forehead is starting to grow. He isn't fond of your attitude, he snatched you up multiple times because of it. He slowly gets up from his spot on the couch, now looking down at you with a dark look in his eye. 

“Watch your tone…”

He says eerily calm, his low voice coming out as silk to your ears. It’s like he’s talking directly to your pussy and she’s listening to every word he’s saying. Instead of standing down like he said you decide to stand on business, which is one mistake amongst many.

“Make me, nigga..”

You scuffed and rolled your eyes. That statement alone made Ony let out a rich chuckle, his face displaying a cheeky smirk. Before you even have time to gauge his actions you feel his callous hand wrap around your neck, forcing you to look up at him.

“Make you what? Say it again..”

He whispers seductively in your ear. You turn away from him before he roughly drags your face back to his. You shake your head not wanting to even breathe, You started this mess now he has to finish it. 

“The cock slut doesn’t wanna speak, huh? Take off your clothes since you want my dick so badly.”

The tent in his pants is now noticeable. He lets go of your neck and sits back down on the couch. You start untying your sweatpants, then slowly taking over your panties, followed by your hoodie and bra. Now you’re standing in front of him, all dignity stripped away with your clothes. 

“Get on your knees and suck this dick, I’ll show you exactly how to watch that mouth one of yours.” 

You nod before sitting in front of him unbuckling his belt. You slide down his pants to reveal his bulging cock through his underwear. You slowly pull down his underwear, earning a scuff from Ony. He pushes your hand away and pulls his cock out himself. His leaking mushroom tip was just inches away from his face. 

“Open your mouth.”

His passionless voice makes your clit throb and your stomach drop. He’s giving you no mercy tonight and you know that. You open your mouth wide as directed and impatiently wait for his next. He chuckles at how pitiful you look at this moment, taking a mental snapshot in his head. You’re waiting for his next command, your hand in between your thighs as you subtly grind on your hand for some type of friction. He grabs the base of his cock and slaps the tip on your tongue. 

“You like this shit, don’t you? Go on, suck it.”

You wrap your plump lips around his big cock, bobbing your head slowly. You trace circles around his tip with your tongue. He lets out a string of groans, feeling your warm mouth wrapped around his cock. He grabs the back of your neck and pushes you down on his cock roughly. You gag when his cock grazes the back of your throat with force. Tears swell in your eyes as he fucks your face senselessly. The vibrations of your moans drive him crazy, your muffled moans and tears send him over the edge. 

“Mhm…Swallow this cock—fuck”

His head lays on the couch cushion behind him. His hand travels from your neck to the back of your head, gripping your hair harshly. Your faux locs are now scrunched up in his hand. He starts pushing your head down rougher as his pace starts getting sloppy. You feel his cock twitch in your mouth and hot tears flow down your face. 

“Fuck–I’m about to cum. Make me cum, slut.” 

You moan at his command, your fingers travel down to your soaked pussy, and start massaging your aching clit. You hollow your cheeks and bob your head at his messy tempo pushing him closer and closer to his climax. White ropes shoot down your throat, and the warm thick substance slides your throat. His dick flops out your mouth with a ‘pop’. You rub fast circles on your clit wanting to cum as hard as he did. Right before you make it you feel Ony grab your wrist, halting any movement. 

“Who said you could touch yourself? Get up…”

You pout at your ruined orgasm. You get up before he grabs your waist and pulls you onto his lap. Your ass grazes his cock and your back is to his chest. He spreads your legs and hands as he traces small circles on your clit. Your head falls back in satisfaction, he smoothly inserts two of his long fingers inside your damp cunt. You grab his arm roughly, leaving dark nail marks on his tatted skin. His finger moves in and out of you with wet sounds accompanying it. 

“F…fuck…right there..”

You whine into his neck when you feel his pace quicken. He’s knuckles deep inside of you, the speed of his strokes increasing by the second. He chuckles at the sight, you’re drooling, your eyes screwed shut, and pornographic moans flooding the living room.

He groans as you squirm in his lap, your bare ass rubbing against his hard cock. He uses his other hand to rub your sensitive clit. Your grip tightens on his arm, your nail prints getting deeper every time he picks up his pace. His fingers plunging into your cunt with such speed and aggression brings you closer to your orgasm. 

“F—Fuck…s…slow down…I’m about…to—”

Ony chuckles before pausing his movement. He removes his fingers from your sloppy pussy and trails his hand over to your ass and gives it a small squeeze. 

“Only good girls get to cum. C’mon, face down ass up. Right now.” 

You whine at the absence of friction and he gives your ass a hard ‘Smack’ in response. He tossed you over to the other side of the couch before turning you on your stomach. He slides his cock on your warm slit, teasing your greedy pussy. He gives your ass a sharp slap before plunging his cock into your pussy without warning. 

You let out a porno-worthy moan and grab one of the couch cushions for stability. Ony quickly picks up the pace, abusing your cervix with every stroke. He gives your ass a couple of harsh slaps before grabbing the back of your neck and pushing your face into the couch cushion. The living room is overflowing with moans, grunts, and the sound of your sopping wet pussy. You put your hand back to stop Ony’s forceful thrust. 

“S—Shit…slo—ow…down…fuck” 

“Nah, Take this shit…Fuck, you’re such a slut.” 

Ony slaps your hand away before placing both of his hands on your hips, pulling you deeper into every thrust. You stifle your moans with your both as the bully of your pussy continues. 

‘Ding’

‘Ding’

You hear him groan as his strokes cease. He grabs your phone from the other side of the couch before scoffing at the name. 

“What the fuck does this lame ass nigga want?... Hold on.” 

You can hear the smirk in his voice, his cock going at a slower pace than before. You let out a few whimpers that earn you a harsh slap on your already stinging ass. 

“Hush…” 

His monotone voice sends chills down your spine. You have no clue what's going on behind you until you notice the shadow of your silhouette on the neighboring wall. 

‘Is that a flashlight? Wait…is he recording?’

Before you can confirm your answer he goes back to abusing your pussy. You muffle a moan with the pillow in front of you. He presses your body against the couch, the only thing talking is the wetness of your pussy.

“Shit…She’s talking to me, mama. C’mon, tell him who this pussy belongs to.”

You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out but slutty moans. He gives your ass a hard smack, placing his free hand on your lower back. 

“Y-You! F—Fuck!... You do! You own this…mmph…slutty pussy!”

You choke out, completely cock drunk. You hear him chuckle and groan. You pussy turning him into a mess also. His strokes begin to get messy and you feel his cock twitch inside of you. 

“Shit mama…cum on my cock baby .”

He reaches his free hand around to trace circles on your clit.  Almost like clockwork, you leave your juices all over his cock and coat his shaft in a slippery mess. You feel his tip hit your G-spot a few more times before you feel his warm and sticky cum engulf your inside. His cock is covered in both of your juices, a ring of the mix at the base of his cock. 

Your brain is fogged with lust, you can barely think right now. All you can see are stars and darkness before finally feeling him pull out. 

“Did my dick feel good?”

“Mhm…”

“You’re my slut, right?”

“Mhm…” 

“Thank you, mama."

[Sent: 1 Attachment.]

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 9. the end

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel leaves overnight for a scouting mission. When he returns, you finally confess your feelings for him.

Chapter Warnings: language, amnesia, slow burn, dry humping, some dead bodies 'n stuff, fluff, feelings, smut (18+ MDNI), piv unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), soft!joel, guns?

WC: 9.1K

Series Masterlist

A/N: Two things. One: I don't have the slightest clue how memory loss works and if what I am about to detail in this chapter is even plausible but if television has taught me anything, nothing is impossible only extremely rare. Two: this is the final chapter and it makes me very sad. I wish I could have thought of more storylines to drag this out but at the end of the day, I feel good about how it all came together and I can't thank quite literally hundreds of you enough for reading this each week. It's kind of insane. So, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! Also, if anyone wants to toss some one-shot/sequel ideas my way, I am all ears. Much love.

Two Weeks Later

"Joel," you whispered, your head tilted back into the couch cushion while his mouth greedily nipped and sucked at your neck. His hips were grinding lightly against your center and you knew if you didn't stop soon, you would be in trouble. "I think we should slow down."

"Mhmm," he mumbled in agreement, reluctantly pulling his hand from underneath your shirt.

"You're lucky it's still cold enough for me to wear a scarf," you murmured into his hair. He sighed against your neck, finally dragging his mouth away and sat up on the couch while yet another movie went unwatched on the TV.

"Can't seem to get enough of you," he said with a grin, his arm stretching over the back of the sofa. You rolled your eyes dramatically but smiled, pushing yourself up and fixing your shirt before looking at the TV. "Brad Pitt's in this?"

Joel tossed his head back and laughed heartily. "Think he's the main character," he told you, and you scowled at him but he could tell you weren't actually angry.

"Well maybe if you didn't distract me every time we try to watch a damn movie, I would know that."

The past two weeks had been downright perfect. Joel couldn't be any happier. Now that things had changed between you, he craved your touch constantly. Part of him wondered if it was his way of trying to make up for lost time because you weren't wrong: he couldn't keep his hands off you. He had no desire to leave the house or see anybody. All he wanted was to stay holed up with you doing absolutely everything and nothing. He shuddered to think how crazy he would become when you were finally ready to take things further. Tommy will have to drag him by the collar from your bed for his patrol shifts.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked him, leaning into his side and tucking your legs underneath you, only half listening to the movie.

"Patrol," he answered while the tips of his ears burned red from embarrassment, like you caught him doing something he shouldn't be doing. He was perfectly fine waiting as long as it took until you were ready, but it didn't stop him from fantasizing about it. And the fact that he already knew what you felt like, what you sounded like, what made you come undone, worked him up even more.

"How are you feeling about getting back out there?" you asked, tipping your head up to look at him. He didn't seem worried but it was hard to tell sometimes.

"Actually, there was somethin' I wanted to talk to you 'bout," he admitted. "And if you don't want me to do it, I won't. I put you through enough shit as it is-"

"Spit it out, Miller," you said, shifting out from under his arm.

"Now that the snow's melted, I wanna take a couple guys and scout the area for any trace of those raiders," he began, watching your face closely. "I won't go far, but..."

"But?" you pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"But I would be gone overnight. Just one night," he assured you quickly when he saw your face.

"Wouldn't the others have already noticed anything out of the ordinary on patrol?" you asked as anxiety began to squeeze your throat. "I don't understand why you need to go out there."

"'Cause I only trust myself to make sure we're safe," he explained. "If somethin' happened to anyone 'cause I led these assholes to our doorstep, I'd never forgive myself. D'you understand?"

You chewed on your lip and glanced down at your lap as you weighed your options. On one hand, you understood where he was coming from. And if no one else on patrol or guard had yet to see or find anything strange, then Joel would most likely not find anything, either. But on the other hand, just simply leaving Jackson was a risk. And even if Joel didn't find any other raiders, he wouldn't mean he would be safe from whoever or whatever else was out there.

Joel pinched your chin and gently tugged your lip from between your teeth, making you snap out of it.

"Can I go with you?"

Joel's face softened. "No, baby. You don't even remember how to shoot a gun. I can't risk it."

Of course, he was right. "Who would you take?"

He smiled and dropped his hand. "Tommy. Neil. George. Couple others offered, too, but I'm not sure how many we wanna bring. Don't wanna stick out like a sore thumb with ten horses out in the middle of the woods."

You relaxed a bit knowing he would be going with some of Jackson's most seasoned patrolmen.

"Okay," you agreed softly. His face lit up and he leaned forward.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you sighed, looking over at the TV as the credits began to roll. He hooked a finger under your chin and dragged your eyes back onto him.

"Thank you," he whispered before pressing his lips firmly against yours, trying with all his might to pour every ounce of affection and adoration he had for you into the kiss. You giggled against his mouth as he tried to push you onto your back once again, but you playfully shoved his shoulder before breaking the kiss and scooting away.

"We told Ellie we'd meet her and Dina for dinner, remember?"

He groaned as if he were in physical pain and reached out for you but you quickly stood up, wagging a finger at him. He gazed up at you from the couch with his brown eyes all wide and gentle.

"I mean it, thank you. I don't know what I did to deserve you."

You blushed and bit your lip as you slowly walked backwards towards the stairs. "You can make it up to me one day."

Joel's gaze darkened and he dug his fingers into the couch cushion. "Just say the word, baby. Anytime. Anywhere."

You laughed and turned towards the steps. "Come on, we should get ready for dinner."

"In a minute," he said as you disappeared upstairs. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to will his raging hard on away before standing up and following you.

You inhaled deeply, your body heavy with sleep as you struggled to focus on Joel's voice.

"Sweetheart, I'm leavin'."

With a groan, you rolled over and reached out for him blindly, your eyes still not fully adjusted to the beam of light shining in from the hallway.

He smiled and grabbed your hands, wrapping them around his neck. He felt your fingers dig into the back of his neck and shoulders as you feebly attempted to pull him towards you.

You asked him to wake you up before he left for his scouting mission, so he did as you requested but you were so warm and soft and supple under his touch that he was finding it impossible to leave.

Maybe you planned it that way.

"I'll be back late tomorrow. I love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss against your temple, taking an extra moment to savor it. When he pulled away, your fingers tightened around his neck and you lifted your chin, kissing him with an urgency he hadn't expected from your half-awake state.

"Come home to me, Joel," you mumbled, your eyes squinting at him through the darkness. He pulled an arm from around his neck and brought your knuckles to his lips.

"Promise."

It was so hard to leave but he kept reminding himself he was doing it to keep you safe. Regardless of what Tommy thought, something in his gut told him they hadn't seen the last of those raiders. He brought them into the mountains, and he was determined to be the one to finish it.

"I'm still surprised she let you do this," Tommy said a few hours into their travels. George was leading the group while he and Tommy brought up the rear. The forest was silent, save for the birds just beginning to wake in the branches above. After a long, painful winter, it was a relief to hear the first signs of spring.

"What'dya mean let me?" Joel scoffed, but when he locked eyes with Tommy, who was giving him a look that said he saw right through his bullshit, Joel grinned. "Yeah, alright, it took a little work but she understood."

Tommy nodded and went back to paying attention to their surroundings. They were officially in unguarded territory, the nearest patrol route now miles behind them. The trees had yet to fully bloom so it was still rather easy to see through the woods.

"I think you really freaked her out when you left," Tommy said, "she came runnin' to the house that mornin' in a panic. Thought she wouldn't let you leave her sight again after that."

Joel hummed and turned his head so his brother wouldn't see his smile. He didn't want to worry you, but every time he heard something like that, it reminded him how much you cared, even if you couldn't say it just yet.

"So, you two back to normal now or what?" Tommy pried. Joel shot him a look and he shrugged. "We got a long journey here. We can't talk to pass the time?"

"Yeah, mostly back to normal," Joel finally answered, shifting his weight in his saddle. He could already feel his lower back beginning to flare up. "Takin' things slow. Givin' her as much time as she needs."

Tommy nodded, reading between the lines. "Didn't look that slow the other night after dinner," he muttered under his breath, but Joel still heard him.

"She had a couple drinks, is all," he replied with a chuckle. He scratched his chin as he thought back to a few nights prior when you had draped your arms around his shoulders and your face buried against his neck for the better part of thirty minutes. It was late, all of the families had cleared out after dinner, leaving behind the adults to kick back and cut loose a bit. It reminded Joel of a time before the world went to hell. When he and Tommy would go to a bar on a Friday night, the smell of stale beer and cigarettes in the air while the patrons had to shout over a mediocre cover band playing Lynyrd Skynyrd. It was the first time in a long time he felt relaxed and at ease. He watched his brother and wife across the bar steal kisses around conversations with neighbors, grateful for a night out as Ellie had offered to babysit. He had you at his side, sipping whiskey and making a face before you switched to something else.

As the night dragged on, you got a little closer. Then your hand found his knee under the table and you tilted your head into his shoulder, quietly listening to him discuss the plan for the trip with George. He wrapped an arm around your waist but his focus was entirely on George, too concerned with the map he had spread out over the wooden table. George's wife finally came to collect him, telling him she was tired and he was too old to be trying to keep up with the younger men, shot for shot. She wasn't wrong by the way he stood up and stumbled a bit, leading him towards the door, leaving just the two of you at your table. Once you were alone, your arms snaked around his neck and you tugged him to your lips, your tongue greedily licking into his mouth, the heavy taste of whiskey and gin on your combined breath.

"You sure it was just the drinks? You don't think it had anythin' to do with Angie sittin' two tables over?"

Joel's face flushed and he cleared his throat. It shouldn't turn him on but he couldn't help it. He liked it when you were possessive over him.

"Didn't think it wise to ask," was all he said. Tommy chuckled.

The group made decent time. They had a grid in mind and they almost reached their desired destination by sundown. When morning came, the plan was they would make their way back towards Jackson and cover the northeast quadrant of the map.

As they set up camp for the night, deciding to forego a fire since the temperature was comfortable and they didn't want to risk giving away their location, Neil commented that they hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary so far.

"Not that I mind coming out here, Joel," he followed up quickly, "always a good idea to take precautions and all that."

Joel nodded and focused on spreading out his sleeping bag. "I appreciate you all comin'. Not sure if I say it enough, but I'm grateful."

Neil and George exchanged surprised looks at the unexpected appreciation.

They got an early start the next morning, and as the sun rose higher in the sky and more ground was covered, Joel began to wonder if maybe they would make it back to Jackson sooner than he thought. He really hoped they would. Even if it was just one day, he missed you. He hated sleeping without you. He hated waking up and not finding you curled up against him with your head resting on his chest or his arms wrapped about your waist, face buried against the back of your neck.

He was glancing around the forest, wondering what you were doing right at that very moment when he spotted something orange in the distance. His heart rate picked up and he whistled, catching the group's attention. He pointed through the trees and they all silently slid down from their horses. Checking their weapons, they fanned out and slowly made their way towards the scrap of fabric. As they got closer, Joel could see it was a knit cap stuck in a bush, fluttering in the wind. None of the men saw any other signs of life, each of them silently communicating with hand signals they were taught years ago.

Tommy heard shuffling and he held up his hand, bringing the group to an immediate stop. From his angle, Joel could see that the bush with the knit cap was right outside the opening of a small cave. The way the trees had grown around the rocks, it was impossible to notice it from a distance.

The perfect hiding spot.

He exchanged worried looks with Tommy before they crept closer, his rifle gripped tightly in both hands, ready for anything. The shuffling got louder and clearer and it became apparent that the noise was coming from right within the mouth of the cave. Catching Tommy's eye, he made sure to show him he was putting his rifle away in favor of his hunting knife. He always preferred a silent takedown over wasting ammunition, but just in case it went sideways, Tommy would be ready to cover him.

Joel situated himself next to the mouth of the cave while the other men, spread out amongst the trees, hid and waited. He reached down and grabbed a rock, throwing it about ten feet away to draw out whoever was hiding.

He didn't even need to see it to know what was waiting for him.

When the rock cracked against a tree trunk and he heard the telltale snarl of infected, he tightened his grip on his knife. The runner stumbled out of the cave with a shriek, jaw snapping angrily in the direction of the noise. Joel had run into his fair share of infected over the years. He knew the noise would have drawn the attention of any infected in the immediate vicinity, and when he only spotted one, he almost breathed a sigh of relief.

He took it down silently with a blade to the back of the head, then inspected the body. It looked fresh, the clothes mostly intact. The rest of the men joined him as they peered inside the cave, listening intently for any movement. When they heard none, they began to advance.

The cave wasn't very big but it was enough to house ten men. At least, that's the number of bodies they found, not a single trace of life left.

"Well, shit," Tommy muttered, kicking one of the mangled bodies with his boot. "Guess that hunch of yours was right."

It didn't exactly please Joel to know he was right, but at least it was the best possible scenario. The men were taken out by infected probably within the past week. He counted the bodies five times. Then recounted the backpacks and sleeping bags. Ten seemed to be the correct number. No one was missing, assuming the runner he had just killed was the only raider who had the misfortune of turning instead of dying right away.

They scavenged what they could from the dead bodies before trekking back to the horses.

"Keep your heads up. Don't mean there ain't anythin' else out here," Joel warned.

"The warmer weather must've thawed out some infected," Tommy mused next to him. Joel nodded.

"Probably should warn the others to keep their guard up the next few weeks," he replied. "Maybe add an extra body to the towers if we can."

Tommy nodded in agreement. The winters in the mountains were harsh but at least they saw a decrease in the undead.

"Now let's get the hell home," George said over his shoulder, the rest of the men mumbling in agreement. Joel ducked his chin to his chest to hide his relieved smile. Home.

To say you were happy to see him return was an understatement. It was closer to ten at night when you finally heard his heavy footsteps on the front porch.

"Told'ya I'd come back," he chuckled when you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tight.

"I know," you mumbled into his shirt. His heart swelled in his chest and he closed his eyes, breathing deep the smell of your shampoo. You both had a lot of work to do, essentially starting over and building a relationship from the ground up, but it was moments like those that made him believe everything was going to work out.

"Are you hungry?"

"Nah, just need a shower," he said, dropping his pack by the door and kicking off his boots.

"So I take it you didn't find anything?" you asked, trailing up the stairs behind him. He walked into your bedroom to grab a fresh set of boxers and sweatpants.

"Actually, we did," he began, and your heart plummeted. He saw the look on your face and quickly shook his head. "They were dead by the time we got there. 'Bout ten of 'em holed up in a cave. Infected got to 'em first."

"Oh, wow," you breathed, slowly sinking down onto the bed. "Well, at least you have peace of mind now, right?"

"Exactly," he said, giving you a quick kiss before heading into the bathroom. "Be out in a minute."

You heard the water turn on and you glanced over at the red flannel of Joel's that you slept in the night before. Even though it was clean, it still smelled like him. You glanced at the closed bathroom door and bit your lip, your heart fluttering in your chest as you thought things over. The morning he left, you wished you had told him but you were too sleepy and you wanted it to be more meaningful. Then, when you woke up and his side of the bed was ice cold, you felt the dread begin to creep up your spine. What if something happened and you never told him how you felt?

Well, nothing happened. He was home now. Safe and sound. There was no reason not to tell him.

You heard the water turn off and you jumped up to grab his flannel and scurried out of the bedroom, across the hall to the other bathroom, shutting the door.

Joel emerged a few minutes later with his wet hair slicked back wearing just a pair of sweatpants, per usual. He tossed his dirty clothes in the laundry basket and looked around. He noticed the closed door across the hall and assumed you were getting ready for bed so he slid between the sheets with a groan. He closed his eyes and took a moment to appreciate the mattress underneath him instead of the unforgiving forest floor before leaning over to grab his glasses and a book.

When you tiptoed back into the bedroom wearing only his flannel, he didn't notice at first. His focus was on the small print in front of him, blinking a few times and wondering if he needed stronger lenses when you cleared your throat. He glanced up and did a double take, his lips parting in shock when he saw his red flannel hugging your curves, the hem falling just below your ass.

You looked up at him and feigned surprise. "Oh, is this okay? I was cold-"

"Yes," he swallowed, immediately cutting you off, "it's okay."

You smiled and made a show of bending over to fix the sheets. Again, he swallowed tightly when he caught a glimpse of your black underwear and he felt his cock twitch. Before you turned around he made sure to be focused back on his book, although he was most definitely not absorbing any of the words on the page.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw you peel back the sheets and with a sigh, you tucked yourself in. You glanced over at him, admiring his strong side profile and the way his glasses perched on the tip of his nose.

"I missed you," you whispered, and he dragged his eyes from his book to look at you.

"I missed you, too."

You caught the way his eyes flicked down to your chest where you purposely left two buttons undone so you exposed a little bit of cleavage.

"What are you reading?" you asked, and he laughed through his nose.

"I've got no fuckin' idea."

In a flash, his book was discarded and you were in his lap, your mouth hungrily devouring his as he carefully removed his glasses and tossed them to the side. He wrapped both arms around you and held you close to his bare chest, his tongue licking past your teeth eagerly.

"You look so fuckin' good in my clothes," he growled, sounding as if it pained him before biting at your jaw.

"I wore your shirts the whole time you were gone," you admitted, rolling your head back and grinding down on his hips. You bit your lip when you felt how hard he was already. "Almost the whole week. I slept in your bed and-"

"Fuck," Joel groaned, grabbing your face with both hands and feverishly plunged his tongue into your mouth. You moaned and grabbed his shoulders, the intensity behind the kiss growing too hot. You could feel yourself tumbling, free-falling into the abyss with the unspoken words sitting heavy on your tongue, hoping Joel would be there to catch you.

"Wait," you gasped, pulling away, but only a little. Your forehead still rested against his as you both panted for air.

"I know, I'm sorry-" he was about to apologize for taking things too far when you cut him off.

"Do you remember all those months ago when I asked how I fell in love with you?"

Joel nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you remember what you said?"

He tilted his head back, lips parted as he gazed up at you, wondering why you were asking him those questions in that moment.

"Yeah," he replied slowly, "I said you're gonna have to wait to find out."

You bit your lip and with a shaky hand, you traced one of the wrinkles next to his eyes. "Well, I found out."

His chest stilled, breath caught in his throat as he processed your words. His eyes roamed over your face, hoping and praying he wasn't misunderstanding. When you saw him nervously swallow, you smiled.

"I love you, Joel."

His eyebrows pinched together and before you could see the tears welling up in his eyes, he pulled you down for another searing kiss. This time, he went slower. He savored every second, he memorized everything he possibly could about that moment because the way you made him feel hearing those words was unlike anything he ever experienced and he didn't want to take a single second for granted.

"I love you, too," he choked. He could feel you smile against his lips when he pressed his mouth against yours again. "Fuck, I love you so much," he mumbled, his hands falling to your hips, "I'd do anythin' for you."

Your mouth latched onto his throat and you dropped your hand between your bodies, your fingers lightly stroking him through his pants. And once again, you felt his muscles stiffen and freeze.

For a moment, the self-doubt crept in. What if he didn't want to? Was he too tired? Was he not ready? Then his hand covered your wrist and you watched as he slowly dragged your hand up and down, showing you what he liked. Encouraging you to continue. So you did.

His head tipped back against the headboard with a sigh and he squeezed his eyes shut, removing his hand and letting you take control. He wanted - no, needed - you to call the shots. You needed to take it as far as you wanted to take it.

When your fingers dipped below his waistband, he tensed.

When he finally felt your soft touch on his cock, he groaned.

It was better than he even remembered. His eyes were still closed as you worked him up and down, the arousal pooling between your legs the longer you spent just feeling him and not seeing him.

"I want you," you whispered in his ear, and his hips jolted as he whined against your shoulder. You wanted him.

When he opened his eyes, he looked absolutely wrecked. You could see that he was trying his best to hold back, trying his best to make sure you were comfortable, that you weren't feeling pressured, that you really wanted it.

But when you sweetly whispered please, Joel, he didn't hesitate. He flipped you onto your back and pulled hastily at the buttons of his flannel while he cemented his mouth against yours. Your hands drifted to his hair and back, pulling and scratching as you went while he finally flung open the shirt. He instantly latched his lips around your nipple, making you moan and arch your back underneath him.

"So beautiful," he mumbled against your chest. "Tell me again."

You smiled and peered down at him. "I love you."

He breathed a sigh of relief, his exhale fanning over your skin, making your nipples tighten. His rough hands slid down your stomach, thick fingers splayed wide, trying to touch as much of you as possible at once.

You could hear your heartbeat thrumming steadily in your ears when he dipped his fingers below the elastic of your underwear, a deafening sound that made it hard to focus but when he slid a finger slowly through your arousal, your senses suddenly sharpened. The house could have been on fire but you never would have known because all you could focus on was him.

He dragged his open mouth across your chest, teeth grazing over your collarbone, tongue flicking out and tasting you as he went. His lips puckered and sucked at your skin as he pet gently at your entrance, making you squirm with need and tug impatiently at his hair. When he pulled his hand out of your underwear, you made a frustrated little noise that made him smile. He popped his finger into his mouth and you watched, struggling to breathe, as his eyes fluttered closed and he moaned like he had just slipped into a warm bath after a hard day.

"God, I missed that," he whispered, and the look on his face made you actually believe him.

"Joel..." you breathed, plucking feebly at the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Lemme just make you come on my mouth first," and before you could respond, he was shimmying down between your legs and tugging off your panties. When you glanced down and saw how good it looked with his head between your legs, you relaxed and leaned back. How could you argue with that view?

"Oh," you sighed when his tongue first slid through your folds. You tipped your head back and closed your eyes, allowing your muscles to melt under his touch. His hands held your thighs open but he didn't need to bother. There was no possible way you would do anything to stop him. Not when he felt so good, taking his time and expertly lavishing your core with his tongue. And perhaps he was an expert. At least when it came to you, he had five years of experience to fall back on. He surely must have figured out what you liked in all that time.

Your breath was growing ragged and you could feel the heat creeping up your chest. He pressed the backs of your thighs, pushing your knees up towards your chest so he could devour every inch of you, eating messily at your cunt. You pulled your knees back and hooked your hands around each one, your thighs becoming too shaky to hold open with your own strength.

It was a combination of his lips wrapping around your clit and the deep groan that rumbled through his chest that made you come undone the first time. Instant relief flashed through your body and you released your knees, letting your legs fall limply onto the quilt while he eagerly cleaned you up with his tongue.

When he sensed it was too much, he began peppering kisses along your inner thighs, murmuring praise into your skin as he went. You opened your eyes and peered down at him, your breath getting caught in your throat at the sight. His mouth and beard were glistening with your slick, his own eyes remained shut as he mindlessly nipped and kissed your skin, but even from your angle you could see him rutting his hips into the mattress, looking for any amount of friction to relieve the ache.

You reached your arms out to him and he inched up but stopped at your stomach. He sighed and rested the side of his head against your belly, listening to your breath evening out as he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around your waist. It took you by surprise that he wasn't immediately jumping at the chance to chase his own release when it was clear just a moment before he was dying for it. You glanced down at him and smiled when you saw the look on his face, simply content with just holding and being close to you. Carding your fingers through his curls, you heard him hum before pressing a gentle kiss against your stomach.

It might have been that moment when you realized he was right. What you had was special and rare. You could feel it in your bones, the way a look or touch sent a jolt right through you. The way you felt drawn to him, even from the very first day of your accident, you could sense something in him. You had no idea at the time what it was, but you were beginning to understand now.

"Joel?" you whispered, worried he might have somehow fallen asleep. Then you felt it. The first hot teardrop hit your skin and your heart clenched. "C'mere," you said, tugging at his shoulders. Begrudgingly, he obeyed. And after his arms loosened and he unpeeled his wet face from your belly, you saw the anguish in his eyes. All watery and wide and guilt-ridden.

"I don't deserve you," he said softly, his voice breaking a bit as you cupped his jaw. "Never did and definitely don't now. Not after everything I've done. Don't deserve your forgiveness, let alone your love."

You shushed him and pressed your lips tenderly against his, your thumb wiping away his tears as they fell.

"Don't tell me who I can and cannot love," you said, taking his chin in your hand and giving it a firm shake, like you were punishing him. He chuckled thickly through the tears.

You pulled him down by the back of his neck and kissed him slower, your tongue just barely dipping into his mouth. He groaned when you began to plant wet kisses along his jaw and you noticed with pride that his chest was rising and falling faster than usual while his hips ground into yours.

"Love you s'much," he almost sounded drunk, the feel of your mouth over his skin clouding his mind and mushing his words together.

"Yeah?" you asked before sucking a bruise where his jaw met his throat. "Then show me."

Joel kicked off his sweatpants and boxers with a grunt but when you went to remove his flannel from around your shoulders, he stopped you.

"Leave it on."

Your cheeks flared with heat at the way he looked at you and all you could do was nod and bite your lip.

It felt like time stood still when you first felt him enter you. Like nothing else in the world mattered outside of those four walls. He held your gaze and your fingers dug into his back, each of you savoring the stretch with your mouths hung open, the only sound was the occasional sharp little breath or gasp from one or both of you.

You could see it in his face again and you had a feeling you mirrored his look. It was too intense. Too overwhelming. So much had happened that led up to that moment: all the fear, sadness, laughter, arguments, long talks and shared traumas came crashing down at once. A tear slid down your cheek right when his hips came flush with yours and he leaned down to kiss it away.

"You okay?"

You nodded and wiped another tear away with the back of your hand.

"It's just a lot, y'know?" you sniffled, hoping he understood. And he did.

His eyes glistened and he smiled, his fingers brushing away a few stray pieces of hair from your face. "I know. We've come a long way."

"Yeah," you whispered, blinking back more tears. Your fingertips traced his bottom lip, your eyes flickering around his face, taking in every little crease and dimple. "Kiss me."

He did as you asked, kissing you slow and deep, matching pace with his hips. Your fingers dug into his arms, holding onto him, keeping him close. His hand pushed his flannel back, exposing one of your shoulders while your head tilted back into the pillows, momentarily breaking away for air. You moaned softly when he began to grind his hips against you, providing your clit with some much needed stimulation while he dragged his mouth down the column of your throat and across your collarbone. When he sunk his teeth gently into your shoulder, he felt you clench around him and gasp.

How's that feel?

Do that again.

Tell me you love me.

I love you.

Those sweet, desperate whispers were shared, breathed into each other's mouths, every word dragged out, every touch deliberate and slow. Neither of you in the mood to rush a thing as your fingers tightly laced together next to your head.

His other hand skirted around your back and under his shirt, palm pressing against your spine, pulling you closer to him, if it was even possible. He flexed his hips and you groaned when the tip of his cock hit a spot that had your entire body buzzing.

"Right there," you whimpered into his neck, brows pinched together and stomach tightening as you concentrated on the fire being stoked deep within you. Every one of his powerful thrusts was adding fuel to the flames. Your skin was slick with sweat and you began to regret keeping his flannel on.

"I know, baby. I remember," he whispered, tightening his grip on you. "Fuck, y'feel so good, I can't-"

"Don't stop! Please, Joel, more," you begged, tears welling up and spilling down your cheeks the closer and closer he pushed you to the edge. Your thighs tensed around his waist and his lips kissed the tears away and when you came, crying his name into his skin, he soothed you. He told you how much he loved you, how much he missed being so close to you, reminded you he was right there, that he had you and everything was okay.

Moments later, you felt his body tremble and his hips stutter. In a haze, you loosened your legs from around his waist. His lips captured yours frantically, fast puffs of exhale fanning over your cheek as he got more and more lost in chasing his climax. Your shaking fingers reached up to get tangled in his hair, ensuring his mouth remained firmly planted against your lips, muffling his groans and garbled versions of your name and I love yous, swallowing everything down until he yanked his hips away, spilling himself all over your stomach.

You both broke the kiss and looked down between your bodies, watching as each weak thrust painted your skin with more and more of his release until he finally stilled and shuddered.

After he finally forced himself to stand, he cleaned you up and slipped back into bed, one of his legs sticking out from underneath the covers, still slightly panting for air. You curled into his side, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you snug against him, his nose getting buried in your hair as you listened to each other's breaths even out. You quietly told him about a wound you stitched up at work all by yourself the day before and he told you how proud he was of you. You listened to him tell you a little more about his trip, how relieved he felt now that he confirmed with his own eyes Jackson was safe. At least, for the time being.

The last thing you remembered was him telling you how much he hated sleeping on the ground and how much he missed you while his knuckles soothingly dragged over your stomach but all you could think about was the warm glow that radiated from your skin and the delicious soreness between your legs as you drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, you heard birds singing outside your window. You smiled before you even opened your eyes. Spring was coming. You always loved spring. Something about it made you hopeful and calm, and that morning was no exception.

You awoke still wrapped in his arms and his flannel, your cheek pressed against his bare chest, one of your legs slotted between his, enjoying the peace and quiet the morning brought.

"I thought you died," you admitted quietly once he woke, your fingertips tracing over the scar above his hip. "When you didn't come back that day, I was so worried. So scared my last words to you were something cruel and hurtful."

He hummed and said, "Oh darlin', I'm so sorry," then kissed the top of your head.

"Don't be. In a way, it helped me realize how much I care about you," you replied, lifting your chin from his chest to glance up at him. He always looked way too handsome in the morning. It was hardly fair. "Made me realize I couldn't live without you."

He grinned and rolled his shoulder, stretching out his sore muscles. "Well, if that's all it took, why didn't you say somethin' sooner?"

You giggled and looked back down at his scar, the smile slowly slipping from your face the longer you looked at the pale jagged edges marring his bronzed skin. "God, that day you didn't come back, though," you continued, your brow furrowed as you thought, "I had the worst pit in my stomach. Almost like I knew something was wrong, you know?"

He nodded and closed his eyes, letting you talk, completely at ease listening to your voice.

"It probably didn't help I had woken up that morning from the worst fucking nightmare."

"What nightmare?" he asked sleepily.

You chuckled when you thought about it.

"It's not really funny," you explained, rolling off of him and onto your back, pulling his flannel closed as you moved. "It had started out just like this, actually. It was morning, we were in bed and we were talking... about death?" you said the last part as if it were a question. "I was asking you if you believed in heaven and I told you I was afraid we were going to hell." His eyes snapped open and he quickly rolled his head to look at you, waiting for you to continue. You laughed again and shrugged. "I guess it felt like a premonition or something. Really freaked me out, it felt so real."

"What else?" he asked excitedly, sitting up. You looked up at him and cocked your head to the side.

"What do you mean?"

"What else do you remember? From the nightmare?"

"Oh," you said, pushing yourself up so you were also sitting. You stared at the wall blankly as you thought about it. "You told me we aren't bad people, and even though I told you we had done bad things, I believed you. Then..." you felt your cheeks flush and he sat forward eagerly.

"Then what?" he urged, and when you looked at him again, any trace of playfulness was gone.

"Then... it got a little dirty but I woke up before anything happened. But I do remember you were on top of me and you said-"

"This is heaven right here?" he finished for you, and you looked at him in surprise.

"Yes! How did-"

"That was no nightmare, honey. That happened," he told you, his voice rising. He thought his heart was going to explode, it was racing so fast.

"What?" you whispered, but Joel was already jumping out of bed and tugging on his boxers.

"C'mon, get up! We gotta take you to see Nick!"

"Wait," you said, buttoning up his flannel as he flew around the room, grabbing new clothes for you both. "Joel, this was a month ago, what will going to see Nick do?"

"I-I-I don't know! But we gotta tell him. Maybe there's somethin' we can do if we know you're capable of -"

"Joel, sit down," you said, cutting him off. He froze, having just tugged on a shirt but his jeans were still left unzipped and unbuttoned. You stared at him until he took the few steps towards the bed and sat down on the edge. "I'll talk to Nick next time I'm at work, but I don't want to barge in there and take up his time. You know this is out of his area of expertise."

He looked disappointed but he knew you were right because he finally nodded in agreement and bit the inside of his cheek while he stared at the floor. You put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, drawing his attention back onto you.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," you said softly. "If my memories come back, then they come back. If they don't, they don't. All that matters is this... right?" you asked, inching closer to him and resting a hand on his thigh. He smiled and enveloped your hand in his.

"Yeah, you're right," he said, staring down at your conjoined hands for a moment. "You wanna go get some breakfast? Maybe talk 'bout it a bit more?"

"Sure," you replied, then leaned forward, kissing him tenderly before standing up. "I should probably shower, though. Last night got a little messy," you said, tossing him a wink over your shoulder. He smirked and watched your ass sway back and forth in his fucking clothes as you made your way to the bathroom. You turned around in the doorway, one hand on the knob, the other braced against the frame as you looked at him expectantly from across the room. "Aren't you coming?"

All the blood rushed directly between his legs and just like that, his excitement for you recalling a memory was replaced by a very different kind of excitement.

"Hell, yes," he said, standing up and shucking off his shirt as he followed you into the bathroom. He grabbed your face with both hands and crashed his mouth against yours, kicking the door shut behind him.

Three Months Later

"Can't believe I'm the one teachin' you how to shoot," Joel muttered in disbelief as you walked back from the line of trees where he had hammered a paper target into one of the trunks. "You were always a better shot than me. Almost better than Tommy, and he was in the goddamn Army."

You laughed and shook your head, still finding it difficult to believe that you ever shot a gun before. From what you remember, you were always afraid of guns growing up.

"Maybe I'm a natural, then."

Enough time had passed and the weather had gotten warm enough where you decided it would be beneficial to re-learn how to shoot. You didn't plan on going back to patrol, but in the world you lived in, it was an important skill to have.

You sat down next to Joel on the fallen tree trunk in the middle of a small field about two miles away from Jackson. He picked up each one of his guns and inspected them, making sure they were clean so there wouldn't be much kickback.

"Have any dreams lately?"

You sighed and shook your head. "Just the one about Ellie, and that was over a month ago."

When you woke up one morning from a dream that felt all too real, you shook Joel awake to tell him about it. It was a simple dream, but it felt intense. You had dreamed Ellie sat you and Joel down at the kitchen table, and full of nerves, explained that she was seeing someone. Someone she cared about deeply. You seemed to catch on quicker than Joel because the conversation lead to where Ellie had to point blank explain to him that she was dating another girl. He seemed surprised but not overly shocked, and when he shrugged it off and still maintained that his only concern was her partner treating her right, her face broke out into a huge smile.

After he confirmed it was a memory, you agreed to see Nick. He didn't end up having much insight on what spurred your sudden recollection that day, just as you expected. But much to your surprise, Joel was perfectly calm. In fact, he made a point of thanking Nick and you even saw him smile at the other man.

And it wasn't just Nick you noticed his demeanor changing toward, either. When kids playing in the street bumped into him, he laughed and waved them off. When Jesse proposed to his girlfriend, Joel was one of the first in line to give him a hearty handshake and wished them well.

You weren't sure if his behavior changed because you were so revolted by it in the beginning, or if he was just happier in general, but you didn't complain.

"Alright, so which one d'you think we're gonna use from this distance?" he asked after he showed you his revolver and then his rifle, explaining the difference between each: how they handled, when to use them, when not to use them, and then finally, how to load and unload them.

You gave him a blank look. "The rifle, Joel. I'm not a complete idiot. I've seen movies."

He grinned and holstered his revolver.

"Good girl. Beauty and brains," he said, and you rolled your eyes.

"Don't start."

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Don't start flirting with me. You'll distract me and I want to take this seriously."

"I ain't flirtin' with you."

"Yes, you are!"

He laughed heartily at your frustrated little pout. "Can you blame me? You're so goddamn cute."

"Joel..." you whined, and he held up both hands in defeat before picking up the rifle.

"Alright, alright. Lemme shoot off a few rounds and you watch my form, okay? Watch my shoulders and where my hands go."

"Okay."

You observed him as he took aim at the target, nearly hitting the bullseye but not quite.

"You wanna give it a shot?"

"Pun intended?"

He grinned and held out the rifle, so you grabbed it and sunk down to one knee, resting your elbows on the tree trunk as you tried to imitate his posture.

"Like this?"

"Mhm," he said, "now take a deep breath and squeeze the trigger nice 'n slow."

Doing as you were told, you inhaled and blinked a few times, making sure your vision was clear and your eye was on the prize. Pursing your lips, you slowly exhaled and squeezed the trigger - only to miss hitting the target entirely.

"Shit," you grumbled, sitting back on your heels.

"You got spooked by the kickback," Joel said, "try again, but this time try not to flinch."

You shouldered the rifle and took aim, once again taking a deep breath and focusing on the little yellow circle in the middle of the target. When you fired off your second round, doing your best not to flinch, you clipped the edge of the paper, but you were no where near the center.

"Goddamnit!" you yelled angrily. Joel chuckled and crouched behind you.

"Here. Lemme help you."

He wrapped his arms around yours and pressed his chest against your back, his hands coming to rest on top of yours as he made some minuscule adjustments to your posture.

"Y'gotta be gentle, see?" he whispered in your ear. Your eyelids fluttered but you managed to nod. "Gotta be patient. Don't let her scare you. Think of her as an extension of you. Like another arm."

"Her?" you teased.

He chuckled, his breath puffing against the back of your neck. "Yeah. Her. I'm respectful and careful with all my girls."

"All?" you repeated, leaning into him a bit. "How many are there?"

"Oh, tons," he said, making you giggle. "But if it makes you feel any better, you're my favorite."

"A favorite over a bunch of guns? I'm so flattered."

"Hey, now. Didn't you just say you wanted to take this seriously? C'mon, focus up," and you knew he was right so you straightened up and pressed your eye against the scope once again.

Joel stayed behind you, his hands on your shoulders to help stabilize your upper body as you squeezed off shot after shot. His advice helped a little, you were at least hitting the paper, but you weren't getting anywhere near his shots from earlier. He could see you were growing frustrated so when you ran out of bullets, he took the rifle and told you to take a break while he reloaded.

"It's okay, darlin'. It's gonna take a bit to get used to it."

You sighed and slumped forward on the tree trunk. "Yeah, I guess," you mumbled.

For the next twenty minutes, Joel coached you while you struggled to remember all his advice at once. Keep your shoulders loose. Don't flinch. Follow through. Breathe. When you pulled the last round into the chamber and took aim, you expected it to go like all the others so you stopped worrying about it and just pulled the trigger.

"Holy shit, you did it!" Joel exclaimed excitedly. You hadn't even bothered to look, so you quickly brought the scope back up to your face. When you saw the small little circle burning a hole through the paper, nearly dead center, you squealed and quickly placed the rifle against the tree so you could jump into Joel's arms. He wrapped his arms around your ribs and spun you around while you giggled into his neck.

"Told you," he said with a wide grin after he put you back down. You grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him into you, crashing your lips together, taking him by surprise. He stumbled forward but wrapped a hand around the back of your neck just as you lost your own footing and fell onto the grass, dragging him down with you.

You laughed against his mouth, still peppering kisses all over his face. He braced both arms on either side of you, elbows digging into the warm grass, smile permanently stretching across his cheeks as he soaked up your affection.

When your laughter died down, you pulled away to gaze up at him, your fingers playing with the dark curls at the base of his neck. The sun was shining over the field and onto his tanned skin, making his sparkling brown eyes look like the color of gold. It took your breath away.

"You're so handsome," you whispered in awe, your fingers leaving his hair in favor of stroking the graying stubble dusting his cheeks. He blushed and shook his head, but before he could protest, you spoke again. "I love you so much, Joel. Sometimes it makes me sad to think we probably wouldn't have ever known each other if the world didn't end."

His eyes softened and he gave you a small smile, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "I'll always find you. In every life, in every universe. You've got a piece of me," he tapped your chest lightly, "I don't make the rules."

You laughed and laced your fingers together with his. "Like fate?"

He shrugged. "Call it whatever you want. I already told you, sweetheart. We're meant to be together."

You pulled him down for another kiss, this one more gentle. More loving. More intimate. For the hundredth time, you mentally berated yourself for wasting so much time after your accident when you could have been with him like this, being loved and adored and cherished all along. Instead, you both had been searching endlessly for some version of yourself that you weren't sure you would ever find again. But then you realized if you never did, that was okay. Because you got to fall in love with each other all over again, and how many people get to say that?

[missnancychavez]

So I am on my third rewatch of Twisters. So here are some of my own personal headcanons and theories for the movie and some parallels that may add weight to those theories.

1. The original 5 friend group dynamic: Jeb and Praveen have known each other for years and are each others best friend. Javi and Kate are the dynamic duo (basing it on the fact that they were the only ones to do the handshake together). And Addy is everyone's little sister. Her and Kate were extremely close, but in a different way than her friendship with Javi.

2. Tyler Owens is the nephew of Bill and Jo on Bill's side (As we knew Jo didn't have any sibling). He spent his summers with them as a kid, and then as a teenager, he moved in with them full time. He started chasing with them around then, too. He even pays homage to that as he is driving a newer model of Bill's red dodge ram.

3. Boone and Lily have something going on. The way Boone screams her name as she gets picked up by the wind. And their personalities are perfect together. You can't convince me otherwise.

4. Kate and Tyler kiss in the truck after the chase they go on straight from the airport at the end of the movie. (Refer to point 8)

5. Kate puts in her resignation almost immediately, and Javi cuts ties with Riggs and Scott. The wranglers and Kate join StormPAR. Kate and Tyler spend the off-season working with Javi while the others do their own gigs, but during the storm season, they are all chasing and gathering data.

6. Cathy is so encouraging of her daughter because she's been through loss before. They called her Mrs. Carter, meaning she was married. Kate's dad died when Kate was a little girl. Cathy had to learn how to navigate being a young mom and tending a farm on her own. But she also knows that it could stop her from living her life. So she didn't. She grieved, and she learned to live with the grief and still do what she loves. It's why she is so encouraging of Kate getting back out there.

7. Kate stayed in OK for another couple of weeks after the tornado (neither her nor Tyler appeared injured in the final scene, and the truck looks great, all things considered, so clearly they had time tp heal and fix the truck.) They all were forcibly invited back to the farm by Cathy after Tyler and the wranglers went to drop Kate off post El Reno. Cathy took one look at Tyler and forced him in the house. Kate gave herself a headache from laughing so hard. She was then sent inside alongside him. Cathy made everyone stay for as long as they needed. But she did, however, get some free labour from it. It was an unspoken agreement that Kate's was now home base.

8. By the credit scenes, Kate and Tyler are together. Their first kiss was immediately after the two of them went chasing from the airport. Something about their adrenaline rushing, and it being just the two of them. It was electric. It was immediate. It just happened, and when they pulled back, they both started laughing. It reminded him of the first time they chased together, just the two of them. Kate delayed her flight for another two days. She was back home within the month. Tyler quickly realised he would have to start bribing Boone afterwards on the days he and Kate went out.

9. Kate and Boone will play card games at night to see who gets shotgun the next day, when Boone isn't riding with Lily, of course. Turns out, Kate's damn good at playing poker. On the rare occasion that Kate drives, Boone automatically hops in the back of the truck. He won't tell anyone, but he loves it when she drives. She gets this manic energy about her in the drivers seat and his adrenaline always ends up pumping. Tyler loves it, too, but he has no qualms verbalizing his affections toward her.

10. Tyler has nightmares now. Of watching Kate drive into the tornado. Of finding her body, discarded and broken by his truck. Of her slipping through his fingers during a storm. He wakes up sweating and panicking. And it's only when he sees her that he can calm himself down. The two of them, those first two weeks after El Reno, would spend hours each night, sitting in the barn, going over formulas. Or sitting outside on the tree swing, talking until they were both too exhausted to have any nightmares. When she left to go back to New York, she wasn't particularly surprised when one night she awoke to her phone ringing, Tyler close to having a full blown panic attack as he tried and failed to reassure himself that she was okay without her help. They would always call each other before bed after that, usually falling asleep over facetime.

[6ix9inewiturmom]

Jealousy, Jealousy- Chris Sturniolo

Summary: You got a little jealous and insecure about chris’ relationship with Tara, the fans don’t know about you so it makes your thoughts a little worse.

Warnings: Arguments, inscure, fluff, use of Y/N, kinda Asshole chris, TW! co comparison

A/N: I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY THIS BABIES?! also a PSA!! no hate to tara i love her sm she’s absolutely amazing and beautiful this is jus a FICTIONAL story!!

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It was an average Tuesday for me sitting in my apartment waiting for chris to come over so we can have our normal once a week movie night at my house. i knew chris had a video to film, i assumed it was for his youtube channel cause normally they film either on monday or tuesday for their wednesday videos. The endless scroll of tiktok was genuinely getting exhausting, considering chris and i had both decided to keep our relationship private until we felt comfortable enough to share with his fans, i always get chris fan edits all over my for you page, which was nice, sometimes i send him the good ones to see his reaction, but as im scrolling through tiktok a video popped up of chris and his newer friend tara, singing ‘Primadonna’ by Marina, now normally i don’t get jealous or insecure because i know he’s mine and im his, he ALWAYS made sure i was okay with anything, but he never told me the video he was doing was with her? she had this newer series on her channel called ‘Stuck in a car with..’ and last weeks was Nick, so i’m assuming this weeks was chris.. but why wouldn’t he tell me? he tells me everything? why was she smiling at chris like that? does she know he has a girlfriend? did he tell her? why was this the song choice? why was he not telling me it was Tara that he was filming with? i trust chris why am i overthinking so much? why am i questioning him? do i have a right to question things? should i test him? should i just ask? what if he gets mad at me for being like this?

A billion thoughts were flooding my once at eased mind with thoughts of Insecurities and Jealousy. she’s a beautiful woman, amazing style, she’s funny, she’s a lot of things i’m not, but does that matter to chris?

i get up off my bed to head to the bathroom to run me a nice warm bath to see if that’ll ease my mind, i step in the bathroom and turn on the light and start the water and stop in the bathroom mirror and stare. i just sit here for a good 4 minutes looking at myself, comparing myself to her, was it her perfect skin? her perfect figure? i let out a frustrated sigh and hop in the tub and my tense body softens at the hot water absorbing into my skin. i lean back in the tub and stare at the ceiling. questioning myself what i’m gonna do.

it’s now about 6pm, i’ve taken a bath, nervous baked, cookies, brownies, and a chocolate cake, baking always seems to calm my nerves down, i’ve watched 7 movies, no word from chris which is weird, but what’d i expect.

Speak of the fucking devil.

Chrissy 🎀

Hey ma, sorry i’ve not responded, we just got done filming and we ran a few errands and im on the way to your house now baby.

this motherfucker, did he just lie to my face? so he’s now believing his lie that he was filming with his brothers?

Y/N

doors open 🙃

maybe i should just play it cool, maybe i should just see how long he cracks? nah i shouldn’t do that thats some toxic shit.

i hear my doorbell ring a couple times, i get off the couch and walk to the door and open it up to find chris standing there in his light blue Fresh Love hoodie smiling at me.

“Hi baby” he smiles at me holding his arms out expecting a hug from me like i normally do but i can’t help but stare into his eyes and my once harsh gaze softens at his smile and i walk closer giving him a hug and he kisses my head.

i pull away from his soft hug and let him in. as he walks in he notices my disarray of a house, dishes everywhere, flour is scattered over my kitchen counter he has a puzzled look on his face.

“what’s with all those dishes and stuff?” he points around at my kitchen.

“oh that?… yeah i uh started watching tiktok waiting for you and i started baking..” my voice trails off.

“okay..” he starts “anyways… what movie do you wanna watch” he walks with me to my couch and sits down with his arm draped over my shoulders.

“i don’t wanna watch a movie” i smile “i just wanna sit and talk to you for a little bit” he smiles softly at me.

“what do you wanna talk about ma” he chuckles smiling at me

“umm how was filming?” i drop my head playing with my rings on my fingers.

“oh yeah it was good, a lot of good laughs, but it’s how we normally are” he laughs nervously.

“so just you and your brothers?” i lift my head up smiling at him. at this point i blacked out, i completely lost control of my voice, i trust him but why wasn’t he telling me the truth?

“yeah, we was filming for wednesdays new video” he looks me deeply in my eyes, straight up lied to me.

my lips kiss my teeth and i nod, “so Tara is your brother?” i spit out.

his eyes widen, and his face goes pale “Y/N, it’s not what it looks like, look i know me and you have been together for a year and a half in private, she knows i have a girlfriend who i love” he places his hand on my knee rubbing circles on it.

i nod “yeah so why didn’t you just tell me you were with tara? then when i asked you completely lied to my face, yeah i saw the fucking tiktok you guys made, and best believe me, the comments on that fucking video? a BUNCH of boat emojis, and ‘oh the way he looks at her’ what the fuck chris?” my voice cracks with anger and sadness

“Y/N i just know how you are..” he looks down playing with his thumbs.

“HOW I AM? chris i have done nothing but trust you, im sorry for expecting the bare minimum by i don’t know my boyfriend to tell me that he’s filming a video with someone? then not lie to me about who he was with?” i yell standing up off the couch.

“Y/N sit down, talk to me ma, i promise it’s not like that” chris starts trying to grab my hand, i jerk my hand back.

“no you’re not gonna ‘ma’ me, at all, you lied chris, u caught you in a lie, if i would have never seen that fucking tiktok, you would have never fucking told me about it chris, what the fuck?” i pace around my living room in anger and in almost tears

“Y/N…baby” he gets off the couch trying to calm me down.

“no chris, get away from me, get out, i don’t wanna see you” i sit on the floor next to my window in fetal position with my head between my knees.

“Y/N pls don’t push me out” he starts “please, i love you” he squats down at eye level with me

“give me one second chris” i stand up and go out the door unlocking my phone and dialing matt’s number.

“Y/N? what’s up?” matt answers

“come get your brother, i can’t look at him” my voice shakes and tears form my eyes.

“what happened Y/N” his voice panicked

“i should let chris tell you, just please matt?” i single tear drops from the left side of my face

“i’m on my way” he sighs.

i end the call walking back inside and chris is sitting on the couch with his face in his hands as if he’s stressed.

“your brother is on his way Christopher” i sigh walking to my room and locking the door, obviously he followed me sitting at my door with his head leaning against the door.

“Y/N please… i just know since our relationship is private how sometimes you can get insecure” he starts; not helping the situation.

“Chris, leave, you’re not helping” i start crying

“fine, you know fuck this, i tried explaining myself, you don’t believe me, ive tried, now im the problem” he sighs dragging his feet and slamming my front door which causes me to jump and start harshly crying. i hear a ping from my phone assuming its chris i turn it around to find Nick frantically texting me.

Nick Bean 🫘

Y/N??

WHAT DID MY BROTHER DO?!

ARE YOU GUYS BROKEN UP?

WHO I NEEDA FIGHT??

i guess news travels fast in the sturniolo household.

Y/N 🎀

no we’re not broken up, he didn’t tell me that he was filming with tara, told me he was filming with you and matt, but i found out from a tiktok.. all of his comments were shipping him, and i know our relationship is private but like nick… i love your brother so much..

i start crying harder then i’ve cried before. i never would have thought chris would make me cry like this, never, he’s always been so communicative with me. why start this now?

Nick Bean 🫘

what the fuck..

why?

but i have to say one thing Y/N, you know he would never leave you, i can say that, i can’t justify his actions but i can say he loves you dearly.

was i overthinking? he lied. was i being dramatic? he lied.

Y/N 🎀

i know nick, but i jus need a couple days to cool down.. that’s all im asking, a couple days to get his ass straight

i put my phone down and power it off so i can sleep without interruptions, or at least try and attempt to sleep.

about an hour later i woke up, tears staining my face, mascara still running down my cheeks, my heart aches. why would chris do something like this.

Two Days Later

the past two days i’ve heard nothing from anyone, nick hasn’t checked on me, matt hasn’t, and i expected chris not to check on me considering he’s playing the victim card.

New Message Requests from Ms.Yummy on instagram!

hm? tara texted me? god she’s probably the last person i expected to hear from.

Mrs.Yummy

Hey girl! so i heard about you and chris! i just want to say he did tell me all about you, he bragged so much about you!! sorry if things got mixed up between me and chris!! nothing is going on between us! i hope you can forgive him! <3

so i’m guessing chris texted her. wow. he can text her but not me? are you kidding me? i clicked on her profile and found myself gazing at her pictures, looking at the way she does her eyeliner, the way she dresses, her smile, her nonexistent acne, her perfect makeup. fuck i’m doing it again, but i’m not answering her.

Movies, sleep, cry, shower. that’s my routine for the last 2 days. i can’t live without him. maybe he’s right. maybe i am insecure. maybe i am jealous.

fuck it.

Y/N

come over at 5. we need to talk.

i texted chris. we needed to fix whatever problems we had. weather it’s me being insecure and jealous or chris lying to me. we needed to fix things.

Chrissy 🎀

i’m coming over now.

fuck. i had no time to get ready, i looked like shit, felt like shit, still had stains on my face from tears. never mind, i didn’t care, i just needed my boyfriend back.

about an hour waiting for him i was in between dozing off and staying awake, i hear keys jingling at my door. damnit he has a spare key. he slowly walks in holding flowers and my favorite gummy candies and chocolate.

“Hey Y/N i’m sorry it took so long, i ubered all around LA, you know how embarrassing that is? matt refused to drive me anywhere today. him and nick are both mad at me since the whole…yk?” he started nervous smiling.

“these are pretty, and thanks for the food” i say walking up to him with a straight face, and grabbing things from his hand and placing them on my kitchen counter.

“so now what?” he placed his hand on the counter.

“i don’t know chris, You told Tara about our relationship problems obviously, she took your side” i rolled my eyes.

“look i know i fucked up Y/N, i should have just told you about filming with Tara, i shouldn’t have lied..” he starts

“you didn’t just lie Chris. you lied to my fucking face even when i questioned you.. THEN you told Tara about us and she fucking texted me all silly and ass kissing me.. how do you think i’ve felt? genuinely curious how do you think i’ve been doing?” i sit on the counter with my arms crossed staring at him looking at the floor.

“well uhm by the looks of things around here, and your stained cheeks, not good…” he continued to look at the ground moving his ring on his finger around in circles around his finger.

“chris you’ve got me looking in the mirror differently thinking i’m flawed, i mean look at Tara? she’s fucking beautiful, she’s skinny, she’s funny, she’s got amazing style, and definitely good taste in men if she’s interested in you..” my voice fades off and i start breathing in and out trying not to cry.

“fuck” he whispers “Y/N you’re all of that and more… no i’m not making this up, you’re absolutely the right woman for me, i should have told you about tara, im just saying i should have never made you feel different about yourself, i shouldn’t have lied, and i shouldn’t have lied to you. i’m sorry Y/N, for everything, im sorry for making you feel any less then perfect, you’re so very perfect to me” he grabs both sides of my face looking at me deep in the eyes. “you” he kisses my forehead “are” he kisses my right cheek “so” he kisses my left cheek “perfect” he finally places a little kiss on my lips making me smile.

“there’s that beautiful smile i’ve missed” he says still cupping my cheeks making a soft pink color appear on my cheeks.

“i’m sorry chris, i may have overreacted but im sorry for causing an emotional distress upon our relationship” i softly smile.

he places his hands down besides my legs on the counter “that doesn’t matter anymore. i promise from here on out, no matter what, no matter who, i will tell you who im filming with, okay?” he holds out his pinkie, i roll my eyes and intertwining my pinkie with his and smiling.

“i just want you Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, only you, one day i’m gonna make you take my last name, i can PROMISE you that” he says kissing my lips softly.

“i only want you Christopher Owen Sturniolo” i smile back softly giving him another peck on the cheek “can we take a nap please… i haven’t been sleeping good lately… and i just want you to hold me” i look down and back up at chris with his blue eyes gazing down at me smiling.

“yes but i have to do something before anything okay? but you can’t look” he smirks

“i’m confused but okay..” i smile softly.

Liked by Nicksturniolo, Mattsturniolo, MommyYN and others

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ChrisSturniolo WHOOPSIE FINGER SLIPPED.. Hard launch :) @MommyYn

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Comments disabled

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“CHRIS” i drag out the ‘s’ “no way..” i almost had tears in my eyes.

“now the entire world can see that you are mine and i am yours” he smiled kissing my lips softly “now we can take a nap.. come here ma” he opens his arms out for me i lay down on the couch resting my head on his chest and he kisses my head whispering sweet nothings to me, as i fall asleep peacefully for the first time in 2 days with my boyfriend.

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A/N pt 2 I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS!! again no hate to tara, i love tara, she’s an icon to me, this is completely fictional!! I LOVE YOU ALL

XOXO

Gabs 💋

[minisugakoobies]

Mingyu 💞

💞 [ Reunion ] - A longing kiss shared after being apart for a while

This almost ended up being 1k 🤦‍♀️ I am sorry! But the 'gyu brainrot is REAL and it is STRONG 💕

**********

"You know, you didn't have to come."

You roll your eyes as Jeonghan repeats himself. True, your brother doesn’t really need any help picking up his friends from the airport, but you'd insisted on tagging along anyway.

"They're my friends, too," you declare.

"No, they're not." He glances at his watch, then shoots you a look. "You're not gonna be weird about this, right?"

You ignore him, choosing instead to focus your attention on the faces of the passengers now crowding around the luggage carousels, wishing you could brush aside the buzzing of your nerves just as easily as you shut out your brother's voice. The only thing weird right now is how excited you are to see your brother's annoying friends again. You've known Seungcheol, Seungkwan, and Mingyu for ages.

It's been two months since the guys left for baseball spring training. Jeonghan normally would've been with them, but his broken ankle is keeping him benched this year. His incessant whining about being left behind made it a very long sixty days.

But the countdown is over. They're back. And you’re anxiously elated.

Because something changed in the few weeks leading up to their departure, between you and -

"Mingyu." His name falls from your lips as you spy him across the room. Even with his snapback pulled low on his face, you can see how his tanned skin glows, popping against his white tee. You bite back a sigh, wondering how it’s possible that he’s grown more gorgeous in just a few weeks. "I mean, I see the guys."

You lift your hand in a half point, half wave, and it catches Seungkwan’s attention, who then nudges Seungcheol, who in turn shoulder checks Mingyu. You feel the moment Mingyu’s eyes lock onto yours, stomach swooping like you’re in freefall when his lips lift in a soft smile.

You come crashing back down to earth as the other guys spot your brother. The regression is immediate, all four of them suddenly obnoxious teenagers again, with their secret handshakes and crushing bro hugs and unreasonably loud ballbusting. This is how they always say hello, so it doesn’t faze you one bit, though it does make quite a few of the other travelers standing around you glare.

Once they’ve finished their raucous greeting ritual, the luggage carousel begins to move, and all you get are a few quick head nods before the guys start pulling their bags off the conveyor belt. Your heart sinks a little.

Weird, don’t be weird, you think, plastering a blithe smile on your face and pretending to laugh as Seungcheol not so subtly trips Seungkwan with his roller suitcase. Maybe it was weird for you to expect more of a reaction from Mingyu. The two of you had only hung out a few times, a couple of casual dinners, some drinks, one movie, and then, the night before he left - 

Well, maybe it didn’t mean what you thought it did. The two of you had talked a little bit while he was gone, but never about anything serious. You suppose you could’ve asked him about it, but you knew he’d be busy with baseball, and maybe also you didn’t want to know. 

Your mind remains thusly occupied as you follow the guys out to your brother’s beat-up car. Jeonghan pops the trunk from the driver’s seat, using his now-healed ankle as an excuse to get out of helping them. Seungkwan and Seungcheol hastily toss their bags into the tiny space and clamber into the backseat, leaving Mingyu sighing in frustration.

“Thanks for the help, assholes.” 

“Here, let me,” you mutter, not quite looking Mingyu in the eye as you join him.

Together, the two of you rearrange the bags, trying to make everything fit. While the other guys sit in the car loudly fighting over where to grab lunch, you and Mingyu work quietly, in a comfortable silence. It makes you think that maybe it’ll be okay, if things go back to the way they always were before, even if your pulse still races the way around Mingyu the way it’s doing now. 

It’s not until the trunk closes that you finally meet his gaze. Mingyu smiles, that slow-spreading smile of his that makes you weak in the knees, and leans toward you, voice hushed as he speaks. “Sorry I didn’t get to give you a proper greeting earlier. Is it okay if I do now?” 

You’ve no idea what that means but your answer is, of course, yes, an emphatic head nod that makes Mingyu huff out a surprised (and pleased) laugh. His hands drop to your hips, shuffling you towards him just the slightest bit, and then he’s kissing you, lips moving against yours, slowly, longingly, like he’s been dreaming of this moment for two months and is bound and determined to make sure you feel it. 

Weird, how you’re surrounded by hundreds of strangers pouring out of the airport, and yet it feels like there’s no one else around. 

At least, not until your brother lays on the horn.

[like-a-diamondinthesky]

used to this | l.m.h

-> the first i love you m.list

pairing... bf!minho x gn!reader tags... fluff, soft moment with minho 🥹, established relationship

the soft voices, the late-night cuddling, the sweet and fluttering affections you showed each other; man, minho could get used to this.

wc... 777 words a/n... look i know i said felix would be next but i rly liked how this turned out like it's just short and sooo sweet! which i think represents minho a lot HAHAHA,, i hope you enjoy <3 (also thank you so much for 700 followers ily guys so much istg)

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You and Minho have been seeing each other for a couple of months and it's been great. You just click, you fit together, you're a match! You even have a little tradition where he comes over to your place every week and the two of you watch a movie, show, anime, or whatever content interests you that night. Tonight, Minho chose to watch Spirited Away because, surprisingly, he'd never seen it before.

You've watched this movie many times before and it was one of your comfort films, but right now, you just weren't too invested in it—not when you already had all the comfort you needed from the person you were watching it with.

As the TV screen illuminated the dark living room, you sat on the couch, eyes unfocused and mind elsewhere. Minho was lying on his side with his head resting on your lap, an act of affection he had only recently made a habit of.

Absent-mindedly, you began playing with Minho's hair, running your fingers through the soft tufts. He made a sound—not so much a hum, but rather more akin to a purr—and leaned into your touch. "That feels nice," he remarked softly.

You giggled at his light, gentle voice, one that he only ever uses with you (and his beloved cats). As you continued petting his head, you pulled your phone out to capture your cute interaction. After taking several photos, you put your phone away, directing your eyes back to the screen in front of you.

No matter how hard he tried, Minho couldn't get himself to stay awake. He found his eyelids getting heavier and heavier, the feeling of your fingers in his hair lulling him to sleep.

When you noticed the absence of comments from your boyfriend, you leaned forward to check if he was awake. Upon seeing Minho sound asleep, eyelids closed and mouth slightly parted, your gaze softened and your previously furrowed brows fell. Only he could make you melt like that.

You paused the movie and turned off the TV. Carefully, you lifted Minho's head off your lap so that you could move to lay down properly next to him. Subconsciously, he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, causing a soft gasp to escape your mouth. ‘God, he's adorable,’ you thought as you wrapped one arm around his back, bringing your other hand to play with his hair once again. After a few minutes, you, too, fell asleep with your boyfriend in your arms.

A few hours later into the night, Minho opened his eyes to find you laying on top of his body, snuggled into him, as he had his arms wrapped around your waist. The only light in the room was from the street lamp outside the window, which cast tall shadows onto your sleeping face. He doesn't quite know how you both ended up in this position, but he didn't mind at all.

Curious about the time, Minho felt around his pocket for his phone but didn't find it. Craning his neck towards the coffee table, he saw it resting atop the surface, far from his reach. Patting his hand around your leg, he felt your phone in your pocket and took it out to check the time. The clock read 1:43 AM, answering Minho's concerns. Too sleepy to notice your new wallpaper, he returned your phone to your pocket. Perhaps he'll notice the image of your fingers threaded in his tousled hair that takes residence on your lock screen another time.

Minho leaned down to press a light kiss on your forehead, causing you to stir. You rubbed your head against his shoulder, tightening your grip around his torso. "That tickles," you whispered against his skin, eliciting a warm smile to appear on his face.

At that moment, Minho realized exactly how tightly you had him wrapped around your finger. He could get used to the weekly movie nights ending in snug cuddles on the couch, the soft and sleepy kisses you exchange when you wake up, and the hushed voices you use to speak to one another when curled up together. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, for as long as you'd let him.

"I love you," he whispered, so quietly that you would've thought it was your own imagination. You lifted your head and let your gaze track from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. In the same soft tone, you whispered back, "I love you too, baby." You reached up and kissed Minho, earning a satisfied hum from him.

Yeah, he could definitely get used to this.

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taglist: @jinnixxn @elllisaaa

comments, reblogs, and feedback are appreciated! © like-a-diamondinthesky 2023

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 1k words

warnings: explicit language, no steve in this one (but he will be in everything going forward) (we're just setting the vibes in this one yall🫡 )

summary: you suggest an idea that you immediately regret, but you find it too hard to take it all back

PROLOGUE | ❝𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒈𝒐 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌❞

Spring Semester 2018

“We should set each other up on blind dates.”

Right as the words left your lips, you regretted them. And then you were immediately wondering how long it would take for you to look back on this moment and not feel completely embarrassed by it. 

Your honest answer was ten years, your more hopeful one was five. However, you could also see yourself never getting over this moment because you knew that everything else that transpired from it would be entirely your fault, and you’d probably forever feel like an idiot because of that.  

A confused look crossed Eddie’s face for a brief moment. “What?”

It was only you two in your apartment right then, sitting on the couch in the living room with a blanket draped over your laps. The night started with him suggesting a horror movie to watch and you agreeing because the plot of it sounded just dumb enough to seem interesting. The credits of said movie were now rolling on the TV screen in front of you, but neither of you paid any attention to that. 

“Um, that’s why I asked if you think you’re ready to start dating again. Because I’ve been thinking that we should set each other up on blind dates, and I didn’t wanna suggest that idea if you weren’t ready to start dating again.”

Your initial question that started this entire conversation had nothing to do with that random blind date idea you just pulled out of thin air. It, instead, had everything to do with you watching a nostalgic romcom in your childhood bedroom two weeks ago during winter break and feeling an ache in your chest that resurfaced everything you had successfully pushed away for the last few months.  

That was what led you to asking Eddie if he was thinking about dating again; the answer to that question would tell you exactly what you needed to do about your feelings. If the answer was no, you could easily bury everything back down for another handful of months before it hit you like a ton of bricks again; this time you planned to avoid watching romcoms for as long as you could. If the answer was yes— well, you actually hadn’t thought that far ahead, and that was the main reason why you hadn’t planned on bringing the question up tonight. 

You were going to avoid asking it for as long as possible. Hopefully, until you found some other reason to push your feelings away for the millionth time. But then you were blurting it out as the credits of the movie started rolling. 

“Hey, um, do you think you’re ready to start dating again?” 

You weren’t expecting his answer to be yes, and you especially didn’t expect him to sound so sure about it. 

The last time the topic of Eddie’s dating life came up, it was the beginning of the Fall semester. Robin had asked if he was finally over Chrissy and the break up— a break up that was abrupt and, in his eyes, came out of nowhere, but according to Chrissy, she had been feeling “off” about things for a couple of months. 

His answer was no back then, he wasn’t fully over the almost year-and-a-half relationship. And because of that, dating again was pretty much the farthest thing from his mind.

Now, though, it was a complete one-eighty of that. 

“Yeah, I am, honestly. It’s been a long time since the breakup, and I think I’ve “wallowed” long enough. I’m completely over Chrissy. Finally.”

You responded with, “That’s really great,” and you hoped it didn’t sound as surprised as you felt. And then he was asking you why you asked your question, and for a few moments you were at a loss for words. 

It could’ve been easy to finally say everything. I like you. I love you. More than a friend. Maybe always more than a friend. 

However, none of it would form on your lips. 

You couldn’t find it in you to tell him the truth. So, instead of finally doing that, you decided to put yourself in this idiotic “blind date” situation. 

That was why the question should’ve stayed buried down just like your feelings. Because even though his answer was yes, he was ready to “get back out there,” you now weren’t sure if you’d ever want to take this chance that you had been waiting and hoping for since Freshman year. 

The fear of ruining everything that you two had built since that first year of school when he lived just across the hall from you— a friendship that quickly became one of the most important things in your life— weighed too heavily on you. 

That fear never managed to actually change your feelings for him, though. 

It did, however, make you do some of the most insane things ever. Like, suggesting a very dumb idea. 

But, somehow Eddie didn’t think it was dumb. 

“I honestly don’t hate that idea.” 

You simply looked at him for a moment before speaking. “Actually?”

“Yeah,” He nodded and his shoulders upturned in a brief shrug. “A blind date could be cool, and we know each other really well, so we’d probably actually choose good people for each other.”

And that was when you started contemplating how long you’d feel like an idiot because of this moment. 

You smiled, hoping that it didn’t look as fake as it felt. “Yeah, exactly. That’s why I thought of it.”

The conversation seemed to take on a life of its own from there. Eddie said that you two should do it next week and you nodded along, continuing to say things that you didn’t mean in the slightest but you simply pretended like you did. It felt as if you had accidentally dug yourself into a hole and there was no logical way to backtrack on everything you said. Eddie mentioned that he already had someone in mind for you, and you lied and said that you did too; even though the thought of now having to find someone for him made you feel the tiniest bit ill. 

Moments before he left for the night, you thought about simply taking it all back and finally just telling him how you felt, but when you pulled back from the goodbye hug he pulled you into, you couldn’t do it.

Apparently, you just loved making things stupidly complicated for yourself. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa

[wambsgansshoelaces]

could you maybe do headcanons on how the succession characters would comfort their partner? it's just being such a shit week and on top of that i finished succession and i am immensely sad💀 it's okay if you can't tho !! thanks <3

I hope your week ends on a good note!!! Thank you for requesting anon, I love u and I hope this makes you feel better :) <3

p.s. I’m so sorry I’m updating slowly :( I promise I’ll get better about it the moment I’m on break, im sick and school is ruing my life :,) enjoy x

comforting you

Kendall

ᝰ he doesn’t need you to say anything, ever

ᝰ he just knows what you need

ᝰ when he comes home and finds you in bed early, he knows you’ve had a difficult day

ᝰ he doesn’t know what happened, but he won’t ask until you’re feeling better

ᝰ he changes out of his work clothes and just gets into bed with you

ᝰ when you don’t say anything either, he pulls you into a cuddle, one hand pressing your head to his chest and the other cupping your hip

ᝰ “hi, ken.”

ᝰ peppers your face in kisses

ᝰ “feeling off?” he asks

ᝰ you nod

ᝰ his fingers go to stroke your jaw

ᝰ “you can talk to me, you know. i want to make it better,” he tells you

ᝰ so you tell him everything

ᝰ whatever the issue was, the next day, he’s found some way to solve it

ᝰ just for you

ᝰ anything for you

Roman

ᝰ he’s not exactly a ‘sit down and talk about feelings’ type of person

ᝰ but he can tell when something’s wrong

ᝰ and he wants nothing more but to make you feel like you’re on top of the world

ᝰ he sees your pouty face when you get home from a grocery run

ᝰ “hey, babe, come look,” he says after he helps with all the bags

ᝰ he’d been at work when you’d left for the store

ᝰ so he’s had some time to figure out what to do for you without making it seem like he’s prying

ᝰ he’ll ask you about what’s bothering you once you’ve relaxed

ᝰ he plops down on the couch, dragging you with him

ᝰ your favorite movie is paused on the tv, waiting to be played

ᝰ “i found an extended version. with bloopers and deleted scenes and everything,” he murmurs

ᝰ the entire movie, his hand is rubbing up and down your back

ᝰ his fingers sometimes creep up your neck, playing gently with your hair

ᝰ the entire thing is extremely soothing

ᝰ you know he knows something’s wrong

ᝰ and you also know he’s going to do everything in his power to fix it

ᝰ and you’re so grateful he just loves you

Shiv

ᝰ the minute you come home from work, exhaustion and misery rolling off of you in waves, she demands to know what’s wrong

ᝰ “is someone bothering you? is it your boss again? because i can get him fired.”

ᝰ you tell her everything

ᝰ she promises to help you with whatever it is that’s causing you trouble

ᝰ she’d tip the earth off it’s axis if you asked

ᝰ and she does as she said she would

ᝰ everything’s somehow resolved in the next hour

ᝰ “come here, i want a kiss,” she tells you

ᝰ you very happily oblige

ᝰ she spends the entire night just spoiling (and worshiping) you

ᝰ the sheets of your bed are tangled between both your legs

ᝰ you’ve never felt more loved

ᝰ she murmurs about how valentine’s day is coming up

ᝰ and tells you to get your nails done and dress pretty day of

ᝰ you don’t really know how you got here

ᝰ but you’re not upset

ᝰ you smile up at the ceiling, delightedly dazed

ᝰ you don’t even remember why you were upset

Tom

ᝰ the two of you are watching your current show, as you do every night, and he notices you’re zoning out

ᝰ he pauses it and looks down at you

ᝰ he dots a couple kisses over your brow

ᝰ “everything okay?”

ᝰ “rough day…”

ᝰ “why didn’t you tell me?”

ᝰ his expression is one of concern now, yet still absolutely laden with affection

ᝰ “i’m sorry, i’m not trying to keeping things from you or anything. i just don’t want to bother you.”

ᝰ “i want you to bother me. say everything that comes into your brain, i want to hear it.”

ᝰ he pulls you closer, palm smoothing over the back of your neck as he sets your head against his chest

ᝰ you tell him about your day, and how you were getting so frustrated

ᝰ frustrated everything was going wrong today, frustrated that the entire week was going wrong

ᝰ he listens intently, stroking your hair the entire time

ᝰ he gives soft “mhms” and “of courses” at your words

ᝰ he peppers warm kisses all over your face

ᝰ he does his best to give you a solution

ᝰ even if what he suggested doesn’t work, he’s sending you flowers to your office for the next week

Greg

ᝰ he’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit

ᝰ he’s a little nervous to ask what’s wrong

ᝰ he’s afraid he won’t know what to do to make you feel better

ᝰ “hey, uh, everything okay?”

ᝰ you shrug

ᝰ “wanna talk about it?”

ᝰ you tell him everything

ᝰ he nods the entire time, his eyes never leaving your face

ᝰ he’s trying to memorize everything you’re saying

ᝰ he doesn’t really have any great solutions

ᝰ and he kind of hates himself for it

ᝰ he wants to help you

ᝰ “hey, how about we go out tonight? take your mind off things.”

ᝰ you spend the night at dinner then wandering through a night market

ᝰ you both talk nonstop

ᝰ he gets you a bunch of trinkets

ᝰ just things that reminds him of you

ᝰ and a bracelet, too

ᝰ`he spends a bit of time fiddling with the clasp, eventually hooking it together and letting it sit on your wrist

ᝰ you don’t take the bracelet off

ᝰ ever

ᝰ at home, he’s worried you’re still upset

ᝰ but you’re not

ᝰ you fall asleep curled up against him, your worries now nonexistent

Stewy

ᝰ he feels what you feel

ᝰ and at this point he can never leave you alone

ᝰ he NEEDS to be with you 24/7

ᝰ so naturally it’s like he’s dying when you come home looking upset

ᝰ “hey, no kiss hello?” he whines

ᝰ that manages to get you to laugh

ᝰ he smiles at your smiling

ᝰ you go over to kiss him and he catches your wrist before you walk off

ᝰ “no, c’mere,” he insists

ᝰ he tugs you into his lap and winds his arms around your waist

ᝰ he sets his chin on your shoulder

ᝰ “why’re you upset?”

ᝰ “oh, it’s nothing, stewy.”

ᝰ “bullshit.”

ᝰ you spill

ᝰ he rubs circles into your hip bone

ᝰ “i’d be upset, too,” he admits

ᝰ he kisses all up your neck

ᝰ “but we don’t have to think about that all now. can we just spend some time together? i promise, though, if you’re still having problems i’ll gladly fuck up many lives for you.”

ᝰ you laugh, making him laugh

ᝰ you spend the rest of the night just sitting there talking to him

ᝰ he even lets you put his hair into pigtails with your hair ties

[semperama]

hiii, for the ask game, i would love nr 7 (i dreamt about you last night) for buddie! ✨️

This is probably not what you had in mind when you sent this prompt, and I'm sorry!! It got a little angsty on me. Also long.

“I dreamt about you last night.”

----

Buck wakes up to sheets soaked with sweat, a scream halfway out of his mouth. His ears are still ringing with gunfire, sirens. His heart is pounding, his lungs pulling desperately at the air. He paws at his face, his neck, looks at his hands in the semi-dark and expects them to be stained black with blood.

But it’s just clean skin. He’s alone in his bedroom, legs tangled in the blankets, no copper taste on his tongue.

It was a dream. Just a dream.

The fourth time he’s had the same dream in as many nights.

He throws back the covers and gets out of bed, goes into the bathroom where he turns on the light and splashes water on his face, like that might wash it all the way. They always do it in the movies, the water trick. He wonders if it ever works for them. It doesn’t work for him.

Even when he’s awake, he sees it. The blank expression on Eddie’s face. The pool of blood spreading across the asphalt. The way Eddie’s hand moved. He reached for Buck like Buck could save him, and Buck tried, but it doesn’t feel like it was enough. Even though Eddie’s alive—it was because the bullet missed vital organs, and because the surgeons knew what they were doing. But if he’d been hit a couple inches to the left…Buck couldn’t have done anything. Eddie might still have reached for him, but all he would have been able to do was watch him die.

“Fuck,” he mutters, then splashes himself with another handful of cold water. He can’t—won’t—go back to bed, so he shuts off the faucet and goes downstairs, curls up on the couch and turns the TV on.

He should nod off again. He’s tired enough to. But he knows by now what will happen if he does, the worst moment of his life in technicolor, surround sound. So he stays awake, until the gray light of dawn crowds out the darkness beyond his windows.

———

The nightmares didn’t start until Buck went home. The nights he slept on the Diaz couch were quiet and dreamless, either because he was too exhausted or too numb. He went to work, did the necessary chores, helped Christopher with his homework and cooked him dinner. His body ran on autopilot and his mind stayed blissfully blank, and at night he dropped off to sleep like someone pulled his plug.

But it’s been almost a week since Eddie got home, five days since he sent Buck back to the loft. You’ll kill your back sleeping on that couch much longer. I’ll call you if you need you. Buck hasn’t gotten more than four hours of sleep in a night since.

“You look like shit,” Chim says when Buck clomps up the stairs for breakfast at the start of their next shift. And Buck knows it’s the truth. He saw himself in the mirror this morning. His eyes are bloodshot, and the circles under them have darkened into a bruised shade of purple. His hands have been shaking so much, he keeps them stuffed into his pockets or curled around something—the strap of his bag, a coffee mug.

Bobby’s busy chopping a handful of chives, but when he looks up, Buck knows immediately what he’s going to say.

“Go home, Buck,” Bobby says. “You know you’re no use to us like this.”

What the fuck am I going to do at home? Buck wants to ask—but he also knows Bobby’s right. In his current state, he’d end up jamming the Jaws into his own leg, or throw himself off the side of a building before clipping in.

Maybe neither would be so bad, though. Maybe a different kind of pain would be a relief.

Regardless, he can’t go home. He sits inside the Jeep in the parking lot for almost ten minutes, hands curled around the steering wheel, wondering if a nap here would end up the same way. Then, he starts up the engine and drives to Eddie’s.

It takes a while for Eddie to get to the door, and Buck realizes too late he’s probably sleeping. It’s early, and the painkillers always make him tired, and Buck should have just—let him sleep. Someone should be getting some sleep.

“Why didn’t you just come in?” Eddie asks when he sees it’s Buck on his doorstep. He looks—soft. His hair is sleep-rumpled. He’s not wearing a shirt, his sling strapped across his bare chest, and soft black sweatpants sit low on his hips. Buck wants to lean in and bury his face into the place where his shoulder meets his neck.

“Not sure,” Buck says honestly. His brain isn’t working right, probably. How could it, when it’s wrapped in three layers of cotton?

Eddie steps back to let him in, a furrow forming in his brow. “Wait, aren’t you supposed to be at work?” he says. “And why do you look like—is everything okay?”

Buck shuffles in just enough for Eddie to shut the door behind him. “I had a dream about you,” he says, dropping his gaze to the floor. He feels like a child, showing up in his parents’ bedroom in the middle of the night to cry about the monsters in his closet. Or—it’s how he imagines it must feel. His own parents certainly weren’t interested in protecting him from the things that go bump in the night.

“A dream?” Eddie repeats. He takes a step forward, puts a hand on Buck’s shoulder, and ducks his head to meet his eyes.

“More than one, actually.” Buck doesn’t want to look at him, but he knows he won’t stand for it. “Every night.” His voice cracks. “The sniper.”

“Buck.” Eddie’s hand tightens on him, grips hard enough to hurt. It’s good. Grounding. Buck wants to beg him to leave a bruise. “Why didn’t you say something?

“You’re the one who got shot,” Buck says. “What right do I have to even—”

“No, hey.” Eddie moves in closer, his hand kneading Buck’s shoulder, only a few inches of space between them now. “For me, it was just…pain, and-and your face, and then black. For you…I’ve been in your shoes before, too. I know how scary it can be.”

Buck wants to reach for him, but there’s no safe place to put his hands—the soft skin of Eddie’s waist, the pillow crease that slashes across the side of his face. “I almost didn’t save you.” Finally, Buck touches Eddie’s elbow, just gently, with the tips of his fingers. “I froze, Eddie.” His breath hitches. He can feel his face start to crumple. “I almost didn’t—”

“Oh, Buck.” Eddie yanks him in, guides Buck’s forehead to that spot Buck wanted to nestle into moments ago, holds him close. It’s awkward with Eddie’s bum arm smushed between them, his knuckles digging into Buck’s stomach, but it’s also perfect, because Eddie is warm and alive, his heart beating and blood rushing through his veins and lungs expanding, his breath ruffling Buck’s hair. “I’m here,” he murmurs, his fingers scratching into the hair at the back of Buck’s head. “I’m fine. You did save me, okay? I’m right here.”

Buck cries. For how long, he doesn’t know. Shaky sobs into Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie’s skin going slick under his cheek. His arms curl around Eddie’s waist, and his fingers dig in, clinging. Eddie almost died, but he didn’t die. He’s here, and he’s solid, and he’s real. Buck doesn’t ever want to let go of him again.

“Here, why don’t we…” Eddie says after some indeterminate amount of time, shifting to wrap his arm around Buck’s shoulders and tug. “Come on. Come lay down with me. You need sleep.”

“Yeah,” Buck says, a strangled sound. He lifts his head enough to walk under his own power, but he won’t stop touching Eddie, one arm still wound around him, their hips brushing all the way down the hall.

In the bedroom, he makes himself let go of Eddie long enough that Eddie can rearrange himself in bed, get into a position that’s comfortable for his shoulder. Buck climbs in carefully, but as soon as he starts to settle, Eddie pulls him closer, manhandles him so his face is tucked against Eddie’s neck again, that spot starting to feel like it was made just for him, two puzzle pieces fitting together.

“Sleep,” Eddie says, and soon, Buck does.

He falls into dreams of Eddie, but this time it’s different—not the sniper, not any other disaster. He dreams of Eddie and Chris at the zoo, gilded with sunlight. He dreams of Eddie grinning up at him during a rope rescue. He dreams of warm skin, warm breath, strong fingers pressing bruises into his hips.

He sleeps, and he dreams of Eddie.

[mylovelies-docx]

Sorry, I Love You - Part 1

Here we go! I have it planned that I will be updating this story on Fridays, so yay! I have 10 parts set out as of now, but we'll see where this story takes me.

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Friends with Benefits, ANGST, unrequited feelings, lots more to come!

Word Count: 1,200

Prologue

You were right to doubt Natasha's words.

Waking up next to Bucky just gets harder and harder as time goes on. Listening to his soft murmurs and heavy sighs, the feel of his bare skin against yours. Every time you find yourself between his sheets, you resent him a little. But it’s not his fault, it’s yours. Every time.

Because you know that if you ever take that one crucial step towards him, you’ll lose him. Lose this closeness, this connection.

So you don’t take that step. You haven’t opened up and told him how you feel for months now. And it drives a knife into your heart with every second that passes where you don’t confess.

Every time you sneak away from parties to some hidden room for a quick fuck, or when he’s pounding into you under a street light on some deserted road with your leg hiked over his motorcycle at 3 am, you can’t help but imagine that all this passion has to mean something to him. Like it means something to you.

So you test it.

You invite him on adventures between missions, visiting museums and parks and 24/7 diners that you know are perfect date spots. He always readily agrees to hang out and stays with you the whole time, his arm slung over your shoulders while he laughs in your ear.

Spending time with Bucky like this leaves you effervescent. You always leave his arms smiling like a fool – because that’s what you are.

Because these movie tickets are just an excuse, really. 

Bucky’s been so busy these last couple of weeks that you’ve hardly seen him, let alone spent any "quality" time with him. You’re currently on your longest dry spell you’ve ever had with him, and the lack of contact leaves you delusional.

Delusional enough to do something stupid. 

Delusional enough to tell Bucky how you feel.

The air is cold as you and Bucky stroll from the movie theater, your heart buzzing in your chest as you contemplate how best to approach the topic. Bucky gives you the perfect opportunity with his next sentence.

“Damn, dollface, forgot how much fun it was to hang out with you. Feels like it’s been ages.”

“We could always hang out more,” you respond coyly, taking his hand and curling yourself against his side. You don’t think you can look him in the eyes while you confess to him.

“Yeah, we should,” Bucky says, and you can’t hold back your next words.

“We could go on a real date sometime.”

You feel a nearly imperceptible jolt in Bucky’s muscles, and his voice is slightly bemused when he replies. “What?” 

There’s confusion behind the words, but you hope against hope that it’s because he’s thinking your suggestion through.

“Well, I mean, we’ve already kind of been going on dates and doing other things that couples do? It wouldn’t be so hard to just make it more concrete, you know?” Your words squeeze around the lump in your throat, your insides shivering in desperation.

Bucky stops in his tracks and pulls you off to the side of the street out of other people’s way. He turns you to face him, his palms resting on your shoulders, his blue eyes searching your face for any sign of the joke you must surely be playing. Because you’ve talked about this. He was very clear. And you had agreed all those months ago – agreed that it was just sex. Agreed that neither of you had any romantic feelings for the other.

“Uh, doll? What are you…?”

Your cheeks burn and your fingers tingle. Your heart can’t handle being scrutinized so intensely at this moment. You avert your eyes to where you’re scuffing your shoe back and forth, back and forth, across the pavement.

“I’m saying… I–I like you, Bucky.” Heart in youth throat, you finally look back into his eyes when you say his name. 

But his expression as he looks back at you isn’t the one you were wanting to see. Bucky looks panicked. Like you’ve just told him that you’re holding a bomb that’s set to detonate in seconds. 

“Jesus,” Bucky says your name in exasperation as he removes his hands from your arms and runs them through his long hair, “why would you–”

Fuck. 

You quickly back-pedal, trying to keep the panic out of your voice while scrambling to pick your bleeding heart off the dirty sidewalk.

“No, no, no. Wait, Bucky. Listen. I know we’ve talked about this before and you said you weren’t looking for anything serious.” Your hands are flying all over the place as you try and explain away your feelings. “But we’ve been hanging out a lot and maybe I just got the wrong idea–”

“Yeah. You did,” Bucky interjects, sending a dagger into the mess of an organ clutched desperately between your hands. “It’s flattering and all, but… you know I’m not interested in you like that.”

You’re successfully holding back tears against the burning in your eyes, but the need to release all the pain you’re feeling is overwhelming. You wrap one arm protectively around yourself and grab on to your other bicep, squeezing hard to feel the physical hurt instead of the emotional.

“No, yeah, you’re right. I’m – I just thought I should be honest? But, seriously, don’t even worry about it.” You hold your hands up in a placating gesture and give as convincing a smile as possible. “This won’t change anything, I promise. And besides, I’ll get over it soon enough!”

Bucky gives you a skeptical look, but nods his head slowly. “So… we’re taking sex off the table, obviously.”

You give a breathy laugh and try to roll your eyes playfully. “Probably not the best idea at the moment,” you respond.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs, “probably not.”

You both stand in awkward silence, not really looking at each other. You can only stand it for so long until you casually throw a thumb over your shoulder and suggest heading back home.

It’s a long, long ride back on his motorcycle. But at least the wind lashing your face gives you an excuse for the tears that fall.

***

You make it to your floor without seeing another person, but your luck runs out when you find Nat and Wanda watching a movie together in your bed. The sight of your two best friends smiling warmly at your entrance shatters the last of your strength.

You can’t stop the hiccuping sob that leaves your throat – it refuses to be held back any longer. Both women’s eyes widen and they immediately start to sit up, but you’ve collapsed on top of the covers between them before they could move. You can feel Wanda’s fingers in your hair and Nat’s hand rubbing soothing circles between your shoulders.

Your sobs eventually turn into sniffles, and that’s when Wanda speaks.

“What happened?” she asks softly.

You take a shuddering breath in before saying, “I was stupid.”

“What–” Wanda begins, but Natasha immediately knows what you mean.

“Fuck.” She sighs heavily and leans down to place a kiss on the crown of your head.

Part 2

[paddockletters]

I'm sick of it | jude bellingham

request: yes / can you write one about bellingham where they argue all the time and she’s so exhausted about that so she cries and he confort her please? summary: You and Jude are tired of arguing all the time, but he realises he's been a jerk so he tries to sort things out with you. pairing: jude bellingham x reader warnings: angst, fluff words count: 1.4 k author's note: kinda short but i hope you like it! just to let you know again, english is not my first language so pardon me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me—

The last few weeks have been rough for you, Jude, and indeed for your relationship.

It hasn't been the best because of some small or silly reasons—for you, it’s not that silly, but for Jude, it is—you end up fighting, even over things that aren't worth arguing about.

One of those many arguments was over the fact that he had been hanging out with his friends lately. It wasn’t that it annoyed you at first because, of course, he has every right to do so, but you barely saw him at night when he came home just for dinner or to sleep.

You were upset because he wasn’t able to spend time with you; he was always out.

"Jude, you're never here; you never spend time with me. I don't even know when you're going out," you told him in annoyance. You were tired of the same old thing.

"Damn, you are so needy. I just want some time off..."

"I can't believe it, Jude. I'm not asking you to be with me all the time; I'm just asking us to spend time together like we used to. Watch movies, go out to dinner, but clearly, I don't see that you're interested. That's it. Honestly, I'm sick of it."

“Yeah, and so am I, and I think I want to stay away from you.”

“Oh, so now you don't want me around anymore?”

"Come on, I didn't say that."

"Jude, you just said that. You know I love you. I left my family, I left my friends, I left college to come here with you. You don't know how lonely I feel sometimes. I try to distract myself with online classes, even going out with the girls, but I also want to be with you. I want us to go back to the way we used to be," you said with tears.

"I didn't force you to come here." You couldn't believe what he had said; it hurt you to hear him say that.

"You know what? Forget it. I don't want to argue anymore and say something I didn't mean and might regret," you said as you walked out of your room and into the living room.

This fight led to the silent treatment, which has been the worst thing and a nightmare for both of you because you are both so proud. But certainly, you had reason to be angry after everything Jude said to you. You know that you can't escape conflict and that there is no such thing as a perfect relationship. However, you and Jude were an imperfect couple that fit together perfectly; he treats you great, and you know that from time to time, you might disagree on some things, but it never escalated to a major level. You always fixed it very quickly.

You used to wait a few days to calm down and talk about the problem so that you could try to figure out what the matter was and how you could fix it. Despite the fight, Jude still tucks you in bed when you sleep, and you cook breakfast in the morning for both of you. Maybe you don't show your love with words but with actions.

From Jude's point of view, it had been hard for him to understand that somehow you were right and he was acting selfishly. While he hadn't spoken to you, it was to give you time because he knew you needed it after that big fight. He was also tired of fighting with you, so this time he wanted to fix things, fix what he said, and knew he shouldn't have acted that way. He was sorry because, yes, you had left many things in your country to follow him because he had asked you to. He was sure that he wanted, and in fact, he wants to continue enjoying achievements and defeats with you by his side.

Days after the fight, Jude arrived at your shared flat after training, ready to fix the situation because he didn’t want to lose you. As he walked in, the first thing he did was head to the living room to see if you were there, like you usually are watching a TV show or even a movie. However, you weren't there, which made him frown.

He headed to the small office, thinking maybe you were in an online class, but no, you weren’t there either. He quickly went to the door of your room and heard you sobbing, so he entered the room to find you under the blanket, your body moving because of your crying.

When you heard that he had entered the room, you tried to stop crying, but you were still sobbing a little.

"Baby..." you heard Jude coming closer.

"Hey, are you okay? Please don't cry; I don't like seeing or hearing you cry." Those words, instead of calming you down, made you cry even more.

"Go away," you said between cries, hiding more under the blanket.

"Baby, please, let's talk. I want us to work out whatever it is that's going on with us." You felt the mattress sink next to you.

Jude, seeing that you weren't responding, decided to start talking.

"Well, I apologize for how I have been acting and everything I said because I really understand that I acted like a dick to you when you didn't deserve it after everything you have done for me. I want you to know that I am very grateful to you. I think sometimes a discussion is necessary to understand each other and to make sure that we are communicating well, that we are expressing how we feel, and I didn’t take that into account in our last discussion, and I'm sorry for that.

"I want us to understand each other because that's what it's all about. We are in a relationship where we have to grow and learn. And I know that relationships are not easy, but they need some work on both sides, so I assure you that I will do my best."

By that time, you had stopped crying.

"Jude... I'm sorry too because I know we've been arguing about silly things that I sometimes start, but I'm really hurt by what you said. I want to fix this too. We should have the confidence to say what bothers us or what we disagree with without fighting. Like you said, that's what a relationship is all about: teamwork.

We have to do everything we can so that this argument doesn't happen again, and of course, fix and talk about what's wrong. Just like you, I will also do my part to avoid having fights. I love you, and I missed you, baby," you told him while hugging him and hiding your face in his neck. You immediately smelled his perfume, which calmed you down and gave you peace.

"I love you too," he kissed you on the head, and you felt him smile. "What do you say we go out to dinner tonight at that restaurant you love so much?"

"When we get home, we can watch a movie," you murmured into his neck.

"Or maybe something else to make up, you know," he told you as he smiled cheekily.

"Judeeee." You gave him a little punch in the abdomen.

"Babe, we have to recover lost time because you don't know how much I missed you— not kissing you, not hugging you, not touching you. I think there's no better way to recover lost time than making love," he said to you as he turned you around so he was on top of you and started kissing your neck.

"Jude..." you said as you moaned softly.

"I love you, baby. You really are the best thing that ever happened to me," he said as he looked into your eyes.

"You made me go from emotional to horny. I hate you," you told him as you pouted.

"You know you love me. But well, you better take a shower; we have dinner." With that, you got up to head to the bathroom and felt a playful slap.

"Bellingham, stop or I'll get mad again."

"Don't act like you don't like it. I know you missed it just as much as I missed you and your ass," he said as he laughed, and you closed your bathroom door.

He was impossible, but you loved him like that, and you were happy you could fix things.

[lawbreaker13]

There’s something about Elemental that I love but I can’t quite seem to articulate.

[Spoilers by the way]

At the end of the movie, Ember and Wade leave together so Ember can take her internship at the glass company. This is supposedly a full time thing for her, which means she’s moving. Like yeah, she underestimates herself like “oh it probably won’t go anywhere and I’ll be back home soon,” but that’s a very “ooh this is a big step and I don’t feel ready to move out” mentality (literally told my parents I’d be back at the end of my first year’s lease, it’s just a mental safety net, but boy was that a relatable line for me). Regardless of her lack of confidence in herself and this potential new job, she is moving out. And Wade is going with her.

She had said “I want to travel the world with you.” That’s great, and I hope they do, but that’s not what’s happening here. It’s said that this is several months, maybe even a year after the main events of the movie. The majority of the movie itself spans a couple weeks or so (edit: I counted, it’s about 8-12 days). So by the time they leave for Ember’s internship, Ember and Wade have been dating for a while. Anywhere between three months and a year. Wade is leaving with her, and it’s difficult for me to believe they’re going anywhere but the same place. Which means they’re moving in together.

Now I know that it sounds like I’m just freaking out and being incoherent about a ship, but the truth of the matter is, that’s really mature of Pixar.

Family friendly and kid-centric animation tends not to push anything but the “fall in love, kiss, get married, move in, have babies” pipeline. But what I loved about Elemental was that it portrayed a REALISTIC, HEALTHY, and MATURE relationship. One where the couple has arguments about real things that matter and after space, they talk it out. One where “I don’t understand” isn’t an invitation to shut down (even if Ember meant it that way in the heat of the moment), but an invitation to try and learn. One where anger and “I’m leaving” can be met with “I’m coming with you,” and one where the couple doesn’t just love each other right off the bat, they have to DATE MANY TIMES AND GET TO KNOW EACH OTHER, SEE EACH OTHER IN THE WORST OF TIMES, and THEN, realize they’re in love. AND they said it out loud, which doesn’t happen often either (edit: I am well aware that a week or two is a very short amount of time to fall in love, but I’m gonna cut them A LITTLE slack because it’s not like. 3 days, and also they seemingly saw each other every single day for those couple weeks and had the months after that. It’s rare, but sometimes, when you know, you know).

But beyond that. Beyond dating, getting to know each other, communicating and helping each other out, and deciding “yes, we can and should be together,” Elemental showed these two doing an adult thing together—leaving home and moving out. Because they are ADULTS. And the fact that I felt like this movie was targeted towards me and my peers the same way a PG-13 or R rated movie might be, strictly because of the realism in the character’s interactions and dynamic, that is something that I absolutely adore. Like, Zootopia was a kid’s movie with mature themes. Miraculous is a kid’s show with mature themes. Even Avatar: The Last Airbender was clearly targeted towards children, even though we all know it has something for everyone.

But Puss in Boots: The Last Wish. The Spider-Verse movies. And honestly, Elemental. These feel like our movies. Movies I’m glad the kids can enjoy, but they’re made for us. The 20- and 30-year-olds.

I’m just so happy to see animation studios treating adult characters like real people. Maybe soon people will start to recognize animation as a legitimate form of storytelling, too.

I loved Elemental. I really did.

[sunshine-zenith]

(Different anon) one of ANW's writers talked on twitter about how the crew was thinking of bringing Timmy back in S1 (as the founder of the Galax Institute! neato), and that's a fascinating what-if, but I'm glad that the writers ultimately elected to hold off. I kinda agree with the other anon -- Timmy's doing a good job of haunting the narrative, right now. All the parts of ANW that he's (in)directly impacted fascinate me. And yet... I'd also love to see him again? The writers withholding him while they figure out how/where they want him to show up makes me hopeful that whenever he *does* debut in ANW, it'll be good.

I remember hearing that — it could’ve really worked with the episode, especially with how Crocker was specifically reminded of Timmy because of Hazel’s outfit (if Timmy had been the Galax Institute’s founder, this would’ve gone from a reference to actually pretty neat foreshadowing). Still, I’m glad that they didn’t go that route — I watched an Awestruck Vox video on the topic of Timmy a couple weeks ago and he pointed out that Timmy opening the Galax Institute could easily turn into a Crocker 2.0 situation, which I kinda agree with — I want Cosmo and Wanda to matter to him, and him spending his adult dedication to studying the supernatural is kinda cool, but I don’t want to see him derailed completely due to obsession

The more I think about it, the pickier I realize I am when it comes to adult Timmy lol — I definitely don’t want him to be miserable, otherwise it feels like Cosmo and Wanda’s love and efforts did nothing to help him in the end and the irl decade+ the OG series ran for was a waste; I don’t want to see him be a stick-at-home-in-denial-about-growing-up adult (which is why I avoided the live action movies as a kid, even if I knew he’d get character development); I’m torn on him becoming a fairy — if it happened during the OG series and he spent his life from childhood onward as a fairy, I’d be super down with that, because he’d officially be able to grow up with Cosmo and Wanda and never lose them because they’d be his actual adoptive parents, BUT learning the timeline where he became a fairy in canon is the timeline where he grew up, got in a serious relationship, and then died trying to save his loved ones is a little… why tho??; and overall I love that ANW is generally compliant with Channel Chasers, because seeing Timmy grow up to be a genuinely average, seemingly well adjusted adult with a loving family who, even if he doesn’t remember Cosmo and Wanda, still has positive feeling associated with them — it amazing to see as a kid… until it was revealed that his kids had their own awful babysitter and needed fairies. It was less a the story goes on moment and more a slap in the face, especially as a third grader

That said, I 100% trust the crew working on ANW. They did a great job with references to him in season 1, and if they want to bring him back in a potential season 2, I know they’ll do something wonderful. Plus, ANW has Infinity Train alumni working on it — if there’s any series that mastered balancing bringing character back and knowing when to leave characters behind, it’s that series

[billie-reportingbadnews2you]

Not that change you can borrow/ a Billie Eilish fanfic

Warnings: swearing, throwing glass, crying, slamming into walls

summary: ever since billie started working on her new album, she spent less and less time with you, talking to you less and less more, but smiling more as if she was happier without you, you felt you were loosing her but when you brought the subject up she brushed it off as bieng tired, but you have decided to do something about it, what is it?

You were drifting off to sleep on the couch, watching billies documentaries on Disney plus, it was around 3 am, your eyes were incredibly heavy, you had made some food for yourself and billie, you always re-assured her that dinner would be ready when she got back and you also said you would be there, as you were about to give up and sleep, you heard the front door open, you heard scooting and the low sigh of your girlfriend, you rubbed your eyes that were slightly red and felt plumpy and swollen, you went up to billie and gave her a hug "your back!" she was on the phone "Haha yea sounds great this weekend!" she hung up and met your eyes with a tired smile and hugged you back softly "hey babe" she stretched her arms wide while yawing "hey i made dinner" she stopped in her track, than continuing and grabbing a glass "oh yea thanks babe, we picked up taco bell on the way ill have it tomorrow" she said while obviously distracted by her phone pouring milk into her glass almost missing it, you smile faded, "hey is that a new shirt?" she looked up from her phone the dim light, revealing her curious face, she looked down "oh this yea, me and finneas went shopping, he got it for me awesome right?, speaking of finneas, me, him and our studio director are going out for dinner this weekend" you frowned looking at the table top and started to fiddle with your finger "b-billie what about out date?" she almost choked on her milk "shit sorry baby i completely forgot about that, next week ok?" she gave you a quick peck on the forehead before going upstairs still staring down at her phone, " night babe". you let out a sad sign and cleaned her cup and wiped down the bench, you heard billie yell for the stairs "hey babe ill make you breakfast tomorrow" this put a slight smile on your face, a couple minutes later you started to walk up the stairs completely drowned in your own tiredness, you opened the door to your bedroom, seeing billie fast asleep you get into bed and get in a cuddly position, you snuggled into her neck but she pushed your head away and turned away, you were a bit shocked so you just turned around, you didnt know why she had gotten so distant, you silently cried yourself to sleep and billie snored and but her legs on your stomach making you uncomfortable but you fell asleep soon….

You woke up to the light of your windows piercing your eyes, you thought your billie was home so you put on your dressing gown and ran down stairs 'BABE HOW ABOUT WE GO TO THE MOVIE-" you were met with a plate of food and a note "hey babe sorry i had to leave early here's some food, i wont be back until this weekend im staying at the studio, if i need anything ill text you love you" you eyes began to water you looked on the plate to see a MacDonalds burger and fries dried up and soggy, you looked in the trash can seeing the uber eats bag, you began to cry, you would've loved a call or even just a little bowl of cereal , now you had to cancel your reservations, an prepare to be alone for a week, your heart was slowly breaking, as the nights got longer and your crys got harder to control, every single message you sent billie was left on delivered, you missed her, but did she miss you?

after a whole week of loneliness, just like before at 3am you heard billie enter the house, you approached her you pushed you forward and just went straight into the room while on the phone and before you could say anything SLAM!, she closed the door, you figured she was just sleepy, but you just ended up ugly crying really badly, you used up about 3 tissue boxes, what happened to the love of your life? her face is more glower when shes not with you, is she losing feelings?

You slowly walked into your room with billie passed out again, you went onto her phone too see the hundreds of messages from you on delivered, but you went onto her and finneas messages and they were endless, i mean you get that she texts her brother alot but why not you, shes with him all day and she cant even reply to you, a pit full sorrow engulfed your lungs, silently choking on your tears, you slumped downstairs and grabbed a blanket, you figured you'd sleep on the couch, you blanket smelled like her which made you cry even harder, within no time you were passed out, you woke up the next day to see the bedroom door open you have a little bit of hope she stayed but just as you imagined she was gone, she left a note, you frantically ran towards it hoping for good, news "hey Y/n im goin out again, see ya this saturday" now you were really pissed, she called you by your name? didnt even say 'i love you' and just said bye?. she even forgot about the date you re-scheduled, you choked down your tears and watched a movie, you gave up on dinner and waiting for her, but you were triggered by the door opening, the tv screen dimming the room as you see your girlfriend, walk towards the kitchen "hey babe" you couldn't even reply, you started crying like a idiot, she walked over to you her eyes staring at her phone patting your back, "eat your food properly don't choke" you wiped your tears, broken at the fact that billie assumed you were choking becuase she was on the bloody phone all the time, you slapped it out of her hands, she looked like a clueless cat "BABE WHAT THE FU-" her eyes met your bloodshot watery eyes, "oh my god whats wrong?" you have, had it "YOU WANNA KNOW WHATS FUCKING WRONG" her face went pale, attempting to comfort you by rubbing you shoulders you swatted them aggressively, "YOU BARELY TALK TO ME, YOU DONT LOOK AT ME, YOU DONT KEEP YOUR PROMISES, DO YOU EVEN LOVE ME" her frightened face turned into a angry one "WILL YOU STOP BIENG RUDE, IM TRYING TO DO MY WORK AND I AM EXHAUSTED, AND ALL I WANA DO IS SLEEP OKAY, IVE APOLOGIZED" she was really turning it on you , without a second to loose, you slapped her making her green hair fly in the air, she slightly smirked and charged at you your back crashing into the wall with a thud, "WHY ARE YOU SO FUCKING DRAMATIC" her nails pierced your skin, eventually you got out of her grip grabbing a glass and throwing it at the wall, you were aiming for the wall but also wanted to kinda hit Billie she ducked and ran at you, you ran upstairs, and side stepped her into going into your bedroom you locked it, you knew very well that she would get out so you have about 2 minutes to do something, you ran down stairs and grabbed her keys you heard the door fly open "Y/N GET YOUR FUCKING ASS BACK HERE!!!!" you made a run for it and ran to your car door you could see billie zooming out of the house, you turned the car on and hit the acceleration pedal, you looked at the rearview mirror seeing billie on two knees crying as you left "IM SORRY BABY, PLEASE FORGIVE ME, COME BACK" she said while pacing as you drove off….

a couple weeks later you had settled into an apartment, your ex's album had dropped, you saw an ad about her song "Chihiro" in the interview she said "this song expresses my love for somebody who means the world to me, i didn't show them what they deserved and i got what i deserved but whatever happens i still love them" you shut your laptop trying not to cry you knew it was for the better, you opened your phone to see hundreds of missed calls and voice messages from her and thousands of texts messages, you simply blocked her, should have you just let her off?

[bit-dodgy-innit]

We're Not Here to F*ck Spiders

Summary: You were the oldest Spider-Girl the society had ever encountered, therefore, Miguel took a special interest in you. He wanted to know if your life would correspond with his and the other Spiders’ canon, or whether you had a completely different canon you were forging on your own. After an offhanded comment about reviewing your canon with Miguel outside of headquarters, your relationship with Spider-Man 2099 is forever changed.

Set in between ITSV and ATSV.

Pairing: Marc x OC Female!Reader

For context, Reader is an alternate, grown-up version of Mayday due to personal reasons (personal reasons being I’ve been obsessed with Mayday Parker since I was baby child)! No real use of Y/N, though Miguel does refer to the reader as "May" twice and Peter Parker nicknamed her Mayhem. Peter B.'s daughter is Mayday.

Word Count: 10.2k words (see why this took me forever?!)

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI!!

CW/TW: An obscene amount of world-building, parents and kids fighting, mentions of a loss of a child, everyone being hot for Miguel, rough-ish sex (both partners are superheroes, come on), our boy is HUNG, dirty talk, a bit of cocky dom!Miguel, oral f!receiving, a lil bit of both m and f!receiving nipple play, PIV sex, riding, a quick spank, creampie, felching, and perhaps most intense of all, Miguel’s fear of commitment.

A/N: hahahahahaha this movie is nearly a year old and I FINALLY got around to writing a fic for it! Trust that I've been working on this on and off for a while now, but life has been nuts and writing more and more for work (yay!) but wanted to get this out while I had a slow week for everyone to enjoy!

Also, due to more personal reasons, my HC for Reader's parents are Peter and Mary Jane from Sam Raimi's masterpiece in 2002. But no presh if that doesn't jibe with ya!

I MADE A PLAYLIST FOR THIS FIC AND I'VE NEVER BEEN MORE PROUD OF ANYTHING

“Careful, Mayday!” you fondly called after the child who was literally bouncing off the cavernous walls of HQ. Yeesh, were you this energetic when you were her age? Probably. It never ceased to be weird, hanging out with an alternate baby version of yourself, but you could manage if you pretended she was your little niece, or sister, or something like that. 

The alternate baby version of Mayday Parker in question didn’t heed your admonishment at all (which tracked), so you called again, “Oh noooo…I’m gonna have to come up there and get ya!”

Mayday squealed in delight at your “threat” and only zipped around quicker. However, you had a couple decades on her, so your reflexes were more attuned. It didn’t take long for you to capture her in your grasp and tickle her. However, little Mayday wasn’t going to give up that easily. She squirmed out of your hold and began scaling the nearby wall at a dizzying pace. 

“Okay, missy, let’s settle down,” you announced, shooting a web to meet the infant on the platform she’d crawled onto. You continued to speak as you swung, “you know how Miguel is, we can’t get too carried…away.”

You nearly threw yourself back off the platform when you were met with the sight of Miguel himself standing before you holding May. 

“Oh, hi,” you gestured to the squirming girl in his hands, “thanks. I was right behind her.” 

“What am I like?” He asked, an inquisitive arch in his brow. 

“You’re…you run a tight ship that’s all,” you wished a portal would swallow you whole. “And it’s great! We need it.”

“Are you supposed to be anywhere?” Miguel prodded further as he passed you May. 

“Me? No, it's my day off.”

“Then why are you here?” 

“Because you put Peter B. on a mission and it gives me anxiety when he takes her.” 

“You and me both,” he huffed. 

“That being said, anything I can help you with?”

“Yeah actually, I have new sequencing to go over with you.” 

Though the multiverse was ever-expanding, you were the oldest Spider-Girl the society had ever encountered, therefore, Miguel had taken a special interest in you. Since you were a second generation Spider, Miguel wanted to know if your life would correspond with his, your dad’s, and the other Spiders’ canon, or whether you had a completely different canon you were forging on your own. You initially found the whole concept fascinating, yet that interest waned pretty quickly when Miguel informed you that he was going to have Lyla analyze your entire life and have you expound on your experiences so he could compare you to the other Spiders. 

Not that there was anything you were particularly ashamed of, but some of this stuff was embarrassing. Unlike baby Mayday, whose powers had already emerged, yours didn’t make an appearance until puberty. Reviewing your awkward teen years wasn’t exactly your ideal way of spending time with an unfairly hot guy, let alone the head of Spider Society.  

“Oh okay, yeah,” you replied. “When Peter gets ba—“

“MAYDAY! WHERE’S MY PUMPKIN?” Peter’s voice echoed across the room. 

No sooner had Peter spoken did Mayday websling herself off of the platform and into her father’s arms. 

Shit, there went your excuse. A nervous chuckle escaped you, “Convenient.” 

“Sí. Follow me.”

You did as Miguel said and trailed behind him to his…office didn’t quite describe it. Work station? Lair? You lasted all of forty-five seconds before your gaze dropped to his sculpted backside, a new record for you. 

It really was unfair that the intense, ornery leader of the Spider Society had to be so damn fine. You were a superhero and a consummate professional, but at the end of the day, you were a mostly heterosexual human woman with eyes. Miguel was stupidly sexy. His shoulder-to-waist ratio, that chiseled face, and of course, perfectly round ass had been the topic of a few hushed, giggly conversations between you and the other Spiders that liked boys. 

It was only ever cheeky whispers however. All of you knew better than to catch any real feelings for Miguel. One, it was majorly inappropriate. And two, he’d built emotional walls higher than the tallest skyscrapers in Nueva York. 

Still, your mind couldn’t help but wander every now and then…you blamed it on your latest breakup. Spider-Girl duties had yet again claimed another potential partner. You suspected that was the reason it was more and more difficult not to fantasize about Miguel lately. Like sure, he was probably an animal in bed in the best way, but it was the prospect of not having to hide anything from him that appealed to you even more. 

“Lyla, bring up the latest sequencing,” Miguel ordered. 

If it weren’t for your spider-senses, you would’ve collided with his impossibly cut back, you were so deep into your thirsty thoughts. 

Suddenly, you were back on Earth-982A in your childhood bedroom. Or at least, that’s where you appeared to be. The virtual surroundings would’ve been comforting if it weren’t for the particular event that Miguel had wanted to revisit. 

Your father was forbidding you to use your powers. Again. You gazed at the rendering of your teenage self with compassion. Now, your father was fully supportive of you following in his footsteps, but the journey there had been rough. 

“You know, most parents would be happy if their kid wanted to do something to help the world!” 

Your dad scoffed. “That doesn’t matter - I’m not most parents and you’re not most kids!”

“Yeah and whose fault is that?!” Virtual you fired back. “I was born like this because of you! Dad, you’re always telling me that ‘with great power, comes great responsibility’ and now when I discover I inherited that great power, I can’t use it!?” 

“Pause,” Miguel’s voice spooked you back into the present. When you finally shook yourself from the memory that was playing before you, you found his eyes on yours. “Okay, there. Define ‘always’.”

“Quantitatively?” 

“Preferably.” 

“That’s impossible.” 

“Qualitatively, then.” 

“I mean, it's one of those things he said so much that I can’t remember the first time I heard it.” 

“When did your dad first hear it?” 

“His Uncle Ben told him during their last conversation together.” 

“Checks out. And how old was he?” 

“He was a senior in high school, so like seventeen, eighteen?” 

Miguel nodded. Even though x-ray vision nor telepathy weren’t in your powerset, you could practically see all the comparisons and calculations he was making in his head. 

“So using your powers to help people, that was your instinct when you inherited your abilities.”

“Yeah.” 

Miguel nodded again. 

“It’s different, isn’t it?” you asked him. He didn’t reply. “My dad told me he entered some god awful cage-match-wrestling-thing to get enough money to buy a car and impress my mom before he officially became Spider-Man.” 

Miguel was seemingly too busy with entering his latest data to respond. Instead, he barked at Lyla, “Resume sequence.” 

The holographic version of your dad lurched back to life to argue, “May, you are my great responsibility! So if I say no powers, no powers! I did this a lot longer than you! ” 

Tears streamed down your adolescent face. Thankfully, you’d lost some of the baby fat since.  “I hate you! I HATE YOU DAD!!” 

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. This wasn’t easy to live, let alone re-live. So, as a Spider, naturally you made a jaunty, off-handed comment. “Wow, you really know how to show a girl a good time.” 

“Qué?” 

“Nothing.” He fixed you with his signature scowl so you elaborated, “Seriously, nothing. Though, maybe if we did this in an environment where I had access to alcohol and carbs, this would be less um…less unsettling for me.”

Miguel stared at you blankly. “But the simulator is here.”

“Right, of course.” Ughhhh, why was he so damn pretty?! “Forget I said anything, Miguel.” 

He dropped it, but before the simulation could start again, your gizmo beeped. Benji’s basketball game started in twenty. 

“Actually, sorry, I have to go.” 

“But we just got started.” 

“I know, but I haven’t been able to catch one of my little brother’s games yet this season, and it’s almost the playoffs.”

“Won’t he under–”

You interrupted Miguel. “You realize spider-stuff is not a viable excuse with my family, right? Besides, it’s my day off. I’m only here out of the goodness of my own heart and my commitment to the Spider-Society.” 

He rolled his eyes at your remark, but couldn’t help a little half - nay, quarter - smile from forming across the lips you had fantasized about kissing one too many times. “Things are quiet for once. We should knock this out now.�� 

“We should,” you conceded as you created a portal, “but trying to have some semblance of work-life balance is Spider-Girl canon.”

And with that, you hopped back into your world, before you could change your mind or say anything else stupid and/or unintentionally flirty to Miguel. 

You re-appeared in your apartment with just enough time to throw on clothes and swing over to the middle school. Your mom was waiting as you hurried into the gym right as Benji and the other players were taking the court. 

“Look who made it,” MJ observed wryly. 

“Ha ha,” you fired back humorlessly, but pulled your mom into a hug all the same. “Where’s Dad?”

The ref’s whistle signaled tip off and the beginning of the game, momentarily distracting you two. You were thrilled to see Benji starting – he really wanted to make JV when he started high school next year, and this was a step in the right direction. 

“Go Benji!!” MJ cheered before answering your question, “He hit traffic coming from the station. He’ll be here soon.” 

Your collective attention was pulled to the game unfolding in front of you, then MJ asked, “What have you been up to today?” 

“Me? I was at the society for a bit, helping with the baby.”

You didn’t need to see your mother to know that she tensed at the mention of the Spider-Society and Peter B.’s Mayday. It, understandably, weirded her out. 

“How can it not be strange to care for–”

“It would be if we were closer in age,” you pointed out. “But it’s just like babysitting with Mayday right now. And trust me, after all the versions of Dad I’ve met, hanging out with little me is nothing.” 

Despite being weirded out, your mom always tried to empathize, so she switched gears. “Anything interesting happen?” 

“Ugh, just more sequencing with Miguel - today was a tough one.”

“Why?”

“Fights with Dad from years ago that I know we’ve moved past, but still suck to watch.” 

Your mom took your hand in hers, a much-needed grounding gesture. “Well, you’re back in the present, in your corner of the universe now, sweetie.” 

You gave her hand an appreciative squeeze and took her words to heart, focusing on the basketball game in front of you. It didn’t take too long to put the earlier events from headquarters behind you – Benji scored a couple baskets and you took it upon yourself to meticulously document the game on your phone for memories and possible future blackmail. 

When your Dad did join you and MJ, you couldn’t help but hug him tightly. You buried your face into his coat, which smelled like a mix of smoke from the streets and his aftershave. 

It was Peter’s mix of spider and paternal instincts that prompted him to ask, “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah,” you assured him, giving him some space. “I just–I love you, Dad.” 

“Love you too, Mayhem.” Where Mayday was Peter B’s moniker for his daughter, Mayhem was your dad’s nickname for you.

The game ended in victory for Benji’s team, the Midtown Mavericks, and you three waited for the youngest member of the Parker family to emerge from the locker room. 

Benji’s face when he saw you made any lingering discomfort you had leaving Miguel one thousand percent worth it. “You made it!” 

“Wouldn’t miss it!” you pulled Benji into a hug - however reluctant he was to it since he was a ~teenager~ now. “Dude, you put up points tonight!” 

But Benji had gotten distracted, so instead of responding to you, he murmured “Woah, that guy is swole.” 

You turned around to see who he was talking about and your jaw nearly hit the floor. 

It was Miguel. 

Even more incredibly, he was in civilian clothes. It wasn’t until you witnessed him in dark wash jeans, a henley, and a well-worn bomber jacket that you realized that you’d actually never seen Miguel in anything other than his spider suit. 

He called your name and you acknowledged him with a wave, flabbergasted. Even more astonished that you knew this very attractive hunk of man was your brother, “Wait, you know him?!”

“We work together,” you said quietly. 

“At the paper?” Benji was confused. 

“No, at my other job.” 

“Oh,” it clicked for him. “That makes sense. Man, I hope I get that jacked when I get my powers.” 

“Shhhh, be cool Benji,” you urged him. 

“Um, I’m not the one you have to worry about,” he harrumphed. “Oh shit, you like him.”

Though there was more than a decade between you and Benji, your little brother was still your little brother.  “No! He’s the head of the Spider-Society and he’s–you’ll see.” 

You took a step forward to greet Miguel before anyone else from your family could get to him. “Hey! What’re you doing here?” 

“I wanted to finish our work today, and since it’s your day off, I decided to come to you.” 

“Miguel O’Hara making a compromise? How not canon. Wonder how big of a hole that’s gonna tear in the multiverse.” 

“Shut up,” he ordered you playfully. 

“Miguel, good to see you!” Your dad strode over and pulled the younger spider-man into a handshake. 

“You too, Dr. Parker.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how oddly deferential Miguel was with your dad. He’d met Peter first, when he was establishing the Arachnohumanoid Polymultiverse. Miguel was stunned to discover that this Peter was not only retired, but had a full-grown daughter who’d taken up his crime-fighting mantle. Apparently your dad’s canon was particularly important and central to the greater Spiderverse, which meant Miguel would pester you with questions about him constantly. 

“Is everything okay?” Peter asked, “You don’t usually make house calls.” 

Before Miguel could explain, an elbow nearly sent you into careening into his broad chest. Mom. 

“Miguel, this is my mom, Mary Jane.” 

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker,” Miguel dutifully offered his hand to her. 

“The pleasure is mine,” your mom gushed, “I’ve heard so much about you.” 

Benji was right. He was not the person you had to be worried about. A rip in the multiverse to swallow you whole would be rather convenient right about now. 

Miguel’s brow creased. “You have?”

“She hasn’t,” you intervened. “Like two or three things in passing, max. Promise I haven’t broken my NDA or you know, the superhero code of secrecy or anything.” 

Mercifully, Miguel let it slide for the time being. He turned to your brother. “And you must be Benji.” 

“Yeah,” Benji confirmed, doing a terrible job of pitching his voice lower. “‘Sup, bro.” 

Jesus Christ. At this point, you were ready to rip the fabric of reality yourself to end this. 

“Congrats on the win. Hate to do this, but I need to steal your sister for a bit.” 

“No problem, I know she’s fine with it.” Perhaps Benji needed a reminder regarding which sibling had the super powers. “Also, what’s your workout–”

“Well, as fun as this all is, we should probably get back to work.”

Your family didn’t put up much of a fight – thank God – as pleasantries were exchanged and you and Miguel took off. You hoped Miguel didn’t catch when your mother mouthed “So handsome!!” to you as everyone said their goodbyes. Finally, it was just the two of you walking down East 36th Street. 

“Sorry about them,” you began. 

He looked at you, puzzled. “Why?” 

“My family. Embarrassing.” 

“They’re not embarrassing. They’re…they’re nice,” there was pain behind Miguel’s eyes. “It’s interesting. Your brother hasn’t experienced any spider-abilities, has he?” 

“No,” you confirmed. “Not yet.”

You two slowed to stop on the corner. Miguel looked at you expectantly. “So, where to?”

“What do you mean?” 

“You said you wanted to do this in an environment where you ‘had access to alcohol and carbs’.” 

“Oh! Right. Hmmm, where are we?” you looked up at the cross streets above you. “36th and 3rd? I know a place.” 

You took Miguel to a little hole-in-the-wall Italian spot nearby. Since it was so close to Benji’s school and your old middle and high school, you had spent many a week night at their tables, either working on homework or chowing down after basketball practice. 

Therefore, the staff knew you – it was a family owned spot, you’d basically grown up with the owner’s children, Maria and Chris. Though you graduated from Midtown Charter a looong time ago, they still took care of you. Maria had even let you use their first aid kit once, no questions asked, after a nasty Spider-Girl skirmish nearby. You didn’t suspect she knew anything, but even if she did, you could trust Maria to be discreet. 

At least, you thought you could trust Maria, but when she showed you and Miguel to your table, and Miguel made a pit stop at the restroom, she very indiscreetly asked, “Daaaamn, girl. He your boyfriend? Because you–”

“No!”

“You getting dicked down by him?” 

“No!” 

“Can I get dicked down by him? He single? Does he like the ladies?” 

“Maria, he’s a colleague. Actually, he’s my superior. So no…unfortunately, no.” 

Maria cackled with delight. “That’s a pen worth sticking in your company ink. I’ll bring you some garlic bread.”

“And a glass of red wine,” you added. “no, a bottle.”

“That’s my girl!” 

In theory, you had thought that reviewing sequencing outside of headquarters would’ve been less awkward, but in reality, it was more so. You couldn’t stop drinking in the sight of Miguel in normal clothes, the intimacy of having a meal together when usually your interactions were so sterile and professional, plus there was a little voice in your head screaming that THIS WAS BASICALLY A DATE on repeat.

“So should we pick up where we left off?” Miguel asked. The question brought you back down to Earth. Despite that little persistent voice in your head oohing and ahhing at him, it was clear that Miguel didn’t think this was a date. This dinner was a means to end, nothing more. 

“Let me get a little wine drunk first,” you bargained. 

“Yeah, but you have sped-up metabolism, so that’ll take at least–” 

“That was a joke. Miguel, when was the last time you went out to dinner?” 

He seemed to truly consider the question, then, “I don’t know.” 

You’d never heard Miguel say those three words in that order before. 

“I promise you I will go over my cringe teen years with you, but can we eat some garlic bread and not get drunk off this very nice bottle of wine first?” 

“You’re worse than Lyla,” his eyes narrowed. 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“She’s always trying to get me to take breaks.”

“You should! There’s only so much self-flagellation a human can take, even if they’re a superhero.” 

Miguel’s response was a very inarticulate grumble. Maria dropped off the wine, bread, and took your order. You didn’t know what was more insane – the amount of food Miguel ordered or how unabashedly Maria was ogling him. 

“Let me guess, Lyla’s the one who suggested the field trip to my home dimension?”

Another grumble, this one in the affirmative. 

“Classic,” you remarked with a snort before taking a gulp from your glass. “I love that your AI is smarter than you.” 

“Of course she is, she can access all of the multiverse’s knowledge in a nano-second.’

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?” 

“Can we not talk about me for a second?” 

“Why?” 

“Because…because, I don't know, I was hoping doing this in a more casual environment would–it’d make it feel more like a conversation.” 

“We are having a conversation.” 

“Jeez, Miguel,” you took another sip of wine. “It’s not easy digging through my past like this. A lot of the time it feels more like an interrogation.” 

“Ah.” 

“Yeah. And don’t get me wrong, I want to help you, help the Spider-Society, but the one-sidedness of this is exhausting.”

“Exhausting.” He sounded dubious. 

“You know what? Forget it. I’ll take care of the bill and see you tomorrow, and we can go back to reviewing the sequencing like we normally do. I should know better than to complain to you.” 

Miguel looked at you if your words had stung him. “You can complain to me.” 

“No, I can’t,” you disputed. “You’re the most self-sacrificing Spider out of any of us–which is really saying something, by the way–and I feel lame talking about my feelings with you.”

“And that’s why our reviews feel like interrogations,” he was putting it together. 

“Yeah. Sorry to drag you out of HQ.”

Miguel scrutinized you with a long, unreadable look before announcing, “I’m not leaving before I have my bolognese.”

You didn’t know whether to smile or scream. Miguel may have lacked the traditional spidey precognitive sense, and the signature spider sense of humor, but he definitely had the stubbornness you all seemed to possess. 

You shot him a sidelong glare. “Why did you come here?” 

“I told you - I wanted to finish sequencing and Lyla suggested coming to you.” 

“But you didn’t have to take her suggestion.”

Miguel’s large frame shifted in the chair that suddenly appeared too small for him. “Like you said, she’s smarter than me, so I did. And yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve gone out to dinner.”

You didn’t know how to react to that. Right before the silence became intolerable, Miguel spoke again, “You still with that gu–’

“No.” The last thing you wanted to talk about with Miguel was your failed relationship with Gene, and you’d once discussed the correlation of getting your first period could’ve had with your powers emerging with him.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I mean, you get it.”

Miguel at last took a sip from his glass. “All too well.” 

“The price of being a hero, right?” you sent him a small, sympathetic smile across the table. “Or at least that’s what I tell myself.” 

“Your parents seemed to have figured it out,” he pointed out. 

“Well, that took like decades, and according to you, they’re canon, right? So it was meant to be. I guess that’s one of the comforts of having a canon-confirmed soulmate.” 

“Yeah, if you're Peter Parker.” 

Your heart sank at the implication. “So that means if a Spider isn’t Peter we’re meant to die alone?” 

“I don’t know,” Miguel’s eyes were averted. “Maybe only if you’re a Miguel O’Hara.” 

“Stop, you could get anyone in this restaurant to sleep with you,” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “Our waitress has to resist climbing on top of you whenever she passes the table.”

He swatted away the implication as if it were a pest. “That’s different.”

“You know, it might help with the stress.”

“What?”

“Letting someone climb on top of you.”

Miguel glared at you, “Don’t.”

“See? It’s not fun being on the other side of the questions,” you smirked. Your conversation was briefly suspended when Maria returned with your entrees. After thanking her, you refocused back on Miguel, “Can I ask you something else?”

“No.”

“DADA!” A child, who couldn’t have been more than three, screeched happily from a neighboring table. 

Miguel froze. For the first time in the several months that you’d known him, you saw his face soften. The warmth that filled his eyes at the sight of the toddler was undeniable. The fond expression hardened back into his stoic facade within an instant, yet Miguel couldn’t fully conceal the anguish that clearly still haunted him. He never could. 

“Sorry,” you said softly. 

He shook off your condolences. “What’d you want to ask me?” 

“Have you tried seeing anyone after…” it felt forbidden to say Gabriella’s name out loud. 

“What’s the point?” Miguel shrugged. “I don’t have the time, even if I wanted to.” 

“Right,” you hedged. 

Eventually, you and Miguel were able to find things to talk about outside of work and your respective traumas. You compared notes on the lamest villain you’d each encountered rounding up anomalies, discussed the idea of a nursery for spider-babies, or as Miguel insisted on calling them, “second-generation Spiders” – Peter couldn’t keep taking his kid on missions, plus Jessica Drew had just learned she was expecting – you even got Miguel to open up about his teenage days some. 

“Makes sense you were a rebel,” you chuckled, taking one last bite of the tiramisu Maria insisted was on the house.  

“Yeah? Why?” Miguel prodded.

“Because you-re so uptigh–upstanding now.” 

You were treated to another rare grin from Miguel, this time a half smile rather than a quarter. “Nice save.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you contended with put-on innocence. 

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t always like what I have to do, you know.” 

Your gaze locked directly with his for a breath-taking second, his eyes garnets in the low light of the dining room. “We should get going, I've taken you away from headquarters for long enough.” 

“You act like I’ve never left HQ before, and if anything, I took you away from your family,” Miguel parried, yet stood up nonetheless. You followed suit, only mildly disappointed he didn’t argue with you about leaving. As awkward as this dinner initially was, you’d actually ended up enjoying it. “I’ll take you home.”

Miguel’s words stopped you in your tracks, “You know I’m the protector of this city, right?” 

“Obviously, I—” he huffed as you waved goodbye to Maria and exited back onto the street. “Mierda May, I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

Oh. Oh. Did Miguel think this was a date too? Date was too strong of a word – did Miguel think this was a not-entirely-work-related-hang too? 

You struggled to keep your face blasé. “Ah, okay. We taking the subway or are we swinging?” 

Miguel shot you a look as if the choice was obvious, which is how you found yourself traipsing across the city with Spider-Man 2099. You’d traveled by web plenty of times with Miguel before on missions, but there was something about it being the two of you, in your city, that made it feel just a little bit special. 

And to be honest, you’d never get enough of watching Miguel’s body hurtle through the air – despite his bulk and brawn, he was agile and lithe as he swung from building to building with you. You nearly plunged into traffic on Sixth Avenue after your thoughts had wandered to what those bulging muscles looked like unencumbered by that skin-tight suit of his. 

When you arrived at your apartment in Morningside Heights, you were suddenly self-conscious. You’d never brought a Spider to your residence, and Miguel was likely the hardest to impress of them all. 

He studied your modest one-bedroom with the same intensity as he did his screens at the Spider-Society. 

“It’s not much, I know,” you began, “and with Spider-Girl stuff, I don’t have the time to keep it as tidy as I'd like to.”

“It’s perfect,” he mumbled before catching himself. “I mean, it’s perfect for you.” 

“Yeah, I don’t need much, but it gets good light during the day and was the highest floor I could afford at my price point,” you removed your mask as you babbled on. 

“Makes sense,” Miguel nodded. 

You had no idea where to go from there – what on Earth was the man playing at? Should you offer him water, another drink, the best spot to portal back to HQ? He was lingering in your space, seemingly fascinated by the framed prints on your walls, the photos on the coffee table and credenza. 

“Um, do you need to use the restroom or something? Because it’s right through there,” you motioned to the appropriate door. 

“I’m good for now.”

THEN WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE? You hollered in your head. Externally, you kept playing hostess, “Let me get you a glass of water then–”

Yet Miguel caught your wrist before you could retreat into your tiny, galley kitchen. You weren’t proud of how your heart leapt and your breath hitched at the contact. 

“Shouldn’t you be getting back?” 

He shrugged, “I should, but–”

“But what?” 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said…about letting someone climb on top of me.” 

You gulped, “Sorry, that was so inappropriate of me–”

“It was. Inappropriate, that is, but it doesn’t mean it wasn’t a good idea,” he tugged you closer to him. You could barely stand to meet his eyes, alight with desire, while your heart was pounding embarrassingly fast. 

“Um, judging by the–uh, do you want me to climb on top of you, Miguel?” you were always so much smoother in your daydreams about him. 

His lips hovered dangerously near yours. “Do you want to climb on top of me?” 

The closer you got to Miguel, the faster your brain turned to scrambled eggs. His large, sure hands had settled on your hips. 

“Uh huh,” was the best you could muster before he crashed your lips together. 

Miguel’s kiss was searing and all-consuming – it felt as if the longer your mouths moved against each other, the more your body melted into his. He was tall, so tall, and even for a superhero like yourself, it was difficult to keep yourself perched on the balls of your feet to reach his skilled, hungry mouth. 

He seemed to sense your struggle, and without breaking your liplock, he scooped you up into his arms. It was foreign but not unwelcome – you were so used to being the strongest, the person who held others, the hero. Therefore, being held so effortlessly in Miguel’s arms was nothing short of exhilarating. You weren’t the strongest person in the room anymore, you could surrender. You loved it.

Miguel pressed your back into the nearest wall, causing an emphatic moan to leave you when your hips became flush with his. You could already feel him – hot, hard, and big – between the flimsy fabric of your spider-suits. Instinctually, you canted your heat against his, delighting in the way he seemed to grow hotter, harder, not to mention unbelievably bigger, when you did. 

“Bedroom?” he gasped between harsh, ardent kisses. 

You managed to fling a hand in the correct direction, and next thing you knew, Miguel was depositing you onto your bed. You propped yourself up, leaning back on your palms to take in the man towering over you at the edge of your bed. In a flash of color and light, his suit disappeared from his strapping physique, and the sight of Miguel naked intoxicated you more than alcohol ever could. 

His shoulders seemed even broader without the unstable particles of his suit covering them. His pecs were massive, which made a delectable ratio when his chest tapered down to a chiseled abdomen and slim hips. Slim hips that framed the biggest cock you’d seen outside of porn – hell, maybe even including porn. He was long and thick – it made a dark thrill race down your spine when you contemplated how the hell that was going to fit inside of you. 

Miguel noticed you marveling at his package, misinterpreting the rapacious glint in your eye as unease, “I’ll prep you, I won’t hurt you.” 

“Oh, I’m not worried” you glanced back up at his face coquettishly. 

“No?” Miguel cocked an eyebrow and advanced toward you on the bed, a jaguar stalking its prey. He nudged you onto your back and pinned your wrists to your comforter, “maybe you should be.” 

You muscled out of Miguel’s grip and switched positions so you were straddling him. Only then did you lean closer and whisper into his ear, “I can take it.” 

Miguel growled, and within an instant, you were on your back once again as he pawed at your suit. Unlike his costume, your spider-suit was made of plain old fabric, so there was a bit of fumbling, cursing in Spanish, nervous giggling, and a mumbled comment about ‘making you a suit like mine’ from Miguel before you were nude as well. 

He splayed you out against your mattress as if you were a feast before him. Your first instinct was to try and cover yourself but Miguel’s dark gaze froze you. A pleased groan rumbled from his chest and then his large hands flew to your breasts. “Such full, perky tits.”

You moaned in response to his ministrations. How was this real? You and Miguel were touching each other – naked – and you hadn’t woken up yet. 

“It’s all for you,” you mewled, relishing his hot palms on your sensitive buds. 

Another growl ripped from his chest before he swooped down and sucked one of your nipples into his warm, wanting mouth. You keened, a pathetic, high-pitched sound, and you wove your fingers into his dark locks as he gorged himself on your tits. 

The pull of Miguel’s mouth on your peaks was made only better when he snaked a hand between your legs and ran a finger along the seam of your sex. You bucked at the touch, your reaction causing Miguel to lift his head from your bosom. 

“Mmmm, you like it when I play with your pussy, cariño?”

At this point words had all but left you so you nodded and whined in the affirmative. Miguel’s digit parted your folds, tracing up and down, then found your clit and rubbed slow, tortuous circles into the nub. 

“So wet for me, bebita,” he observed, maddeningly casually, while he played you like an instrument. “This is all for me, huh?”

Your head thrashed back and forth on your comforter with a sob, both from pleasure and bashfulness. Now there was no downplaying how horny Miguel made you. 

“Shhh,” he cooed at you, taking one of your hands and bringing it to his groin, “feel what you do to me.”

This time your moan was unabashed as your hand circled around his girth. “Fuck, you’re so big.” 

“I know,” he grunted. Normally, such braggadocio from a man would be an immediate turn off to you. But Miguel wasn’t being arrogant, not when he was referring to the thick, pulsing hardness you were currently caressing. “Gotta get you ready for me.”  

He guided your hand away from his member, even despite your protests, to wrench your thighs wider and bury his head between them. The realization alone that Miguel O’Hara was about to eat you out almost made you come, yet actually feeling his tongue on your needy cunt was infinitely better. He licked a stripe from your perineum to your clit, tearing another ragged moan from you when his tongue focused in on the bundle of nerves. 

Miguel chuckled against your folds at your enthusiastic praise and redoubled his efforts. Your fingers reflexively tangled in his inky locks once again as he continued his delectable assault on your pussy. The way Miguel tasted you matched with how he seemed to approach everything – he was vehement and determined to bring you pleasure like how he was when he worked. He managed to just stay on the right side of rough as he slurped at you..though perhaps that was a bit different than how he fought.

He speared his tongue into your hole, affording you the opportunity to grind your clit against his prominent nose. In your pleasure-filled haze, you briefly fretted that you were suffocating Miguel, but when you tried to scooch away and give him some air, the man grunted and pulled your hips closer to him.

You keened again when one of his thick fingers joined the fray as he prepped you. After all the sexual tension, all the self-denial, and all the excitement the night had held, it felt so good to clench around something. He was again methodical with his preparation, allowing you to adjust to one digit before adding another, and another. It couldn’t have made a starker contrast with how he was devouring your sex. Even in the bedroom, Miguel O’Hara was full of contradictions. It didn’t take long for your breaths to become more shallow, for your cries to reach a higher pitch as you climaxed around his hefty fingers. The combination of the penetration and the stimulation of your clit with his mouth was too good to resist. 

You were slightly relieved that Miguel remained nestled between your legs while you rode out your peak. The orgasm he’d given you was much too good to be able to control your facial expressions. 

He at last came up for air once you’d begun floating down from your peak. A primal pride surged through you at the sight of your juices smeared all over his lips and chin. You couldn’t help but smash your mouths together, eager to sample the combination you two made. It was all too easy to get lost in a kiss with Miguel, yet as you plundered his mouth with your tongue, your hand crept back down his groin. 

This time it was Miguel who moaned into your mouth as you returned him to full mast with feather-light, teasing touches. 

“I need to fuck you,” he gasped between kisses. 

“Finally,” you bantered back. 

A growl from Miguel and then he tackled you back flat on the bed. You couldn’t help the giggle – partly from nerves, partly from anticipation – that escaped you at his actions, despite the visage of a hulking, intimidating man hovering over you could be frightening in another context. 

“Do you have protection?” 

You hesitated. You kept a box of condoms in your bedside drawer, but given Miguel’s size, they’d be inadequate. 

“None that would fit you,” you confessed, stealing another glance at his large erection. It was truly a sight to behold. Miguel deflated slightly, fearing penetration was off the table, and usually it would be. You were firmly a two methods of contraception girl, but there was no way you were going to pass up this chance to have sex with Miguel. “Don’t worry Spidey, I’m on the pill.” 

“Gracias a Dios,” he muttered, then wasted no time situating himself between your hips. He drew yet another mewl from you when he slapped the tip of his cock a few times on your clit before lining himself up with your entrance. 

He found you looking at him expectantly. And though Miguel mostly saw desire in your eyes, he could see the glimpse of unease too. He assured you, “I’ll go slow.” 

You nodded, you trusted him after all, but nothing could prepare you for the stretch of when Miguel finally pushed into you. Just the tip was already splitting you apart more than Gene, or any former lover for that matter, ever had. 

“Breathe,” Miguel rasped. You couldn’t tell if he was advising you or himself though. It struck you then that you’d perhaps achieved the damn-near impossible – disarming the notoriously closed-off Miguel O’Hara. He looked beautiful, biting his plush lower lip as he slowly rocked more and more of his huge cock inside of you. 

Your back arched off the mattress of the sensation of being progressively speared on the monster that Miguel called a dick. It was too much and not enough all at once, and your fingers dug into your comforter below you. He tried to distract you from any potential pain, Miguel’s index finger returning to your barely-recovered clit. 

“That’s it, open up for me,” he husked. Your head swam at the mix of his enormous manhood stretching you to your limit and his tender, in-control tone. The realization hit you harder than a punch from an anomaly. In that moment, fear skittered down your throat and pooled into your stomach, resting right above where you two were joined. He’s going to ruin me for other men, isn’t he? 

You couldn’t think any further since not only was Miguel fully seated within you, he had asked you a question. Your eyes glassy and pupils blown, found his, and he repeated himself. “You okay? Can-can I move?”

“Yes,” you gasped. In case your breath affirmation left any room for doubt, you added, “please.”

Another grunt from your lover and Miguel at last began to thrust into you. Your arms flew from the bed to his impossibly wide shoulders, your nails digging into the caramel, taut skin there. You couldn’t tell exactly when it’d happened, lost in the deliciously lewd sounds you were making between the slap of your bodies, your labored breaths, and his determined staccato grunts while Miguel railed you, but your hips had begun to meet his. 

“M-more Miguel,” you urged him as you dragged your fingertips down the expanse of his back. Each of your hands grabbed a fistful of that glorious ass and squeezed to drive home your point. 

“You sure?” 

You moaned. It was as if he couldn’t give it to you hard or faster enough. You used your grip on the globes of his perfect rear to try and force him to increase to the pace and force you needed him to fuck you at. 

Miguel laughed. A dark and stirring sound that made you involuntarily tighten around his girthy length. “Alright bebita, but remember…you asked for this.” 

His words ignited something defiant within you. You pulled Miguel’s head from where it had fallen into the crook of your neck so you could look him in the eyes when you said, “I’m not some pillow princess from Nueva. I’m just as strong as you are, I can go just as hard you can, and I want you to fuck me.” 

Your lover’s eyes darkened at your demand. The growl that ripped from his throat was your only warning before Miguel unleashed the full force of his strength on you. You keened in pleasure as he all but drove you through your bedframe and the wall behind it. Miguel captured your wrists once more and restrained you against the mattress as he absolutely pounded into your pussy. 

His drilling drew another ecstatic cry from your mouth. Miguel glared down at you, his eyes nearly crazed, his face barely lit in the ambient light from the street. It truly was infuriating to you how beautiful this man was. You watched his brow furrowed in concentration – not on his stupid screens for once – and his dark hair shift in time with his thrusts.  Your features contorted in pleasure when Miguel switched from drilling into you to swiveling his hips to stuff you with his cock. His movements were deliberate and slow, he was trying to get as deep inside of you as he could. You almost went cross-eyed at the feel of his bulbous cockhead punching against your cervix. 

The criminal undulations of his hips extracted a little yip from you each time he pistoned into you. He grinned down at you wolfishly. Equal parts indignation and arousal bloomed within you. Also, was the first time you'd ever seen Miguel smile? Not a little half-smirk or a humorless quirk of his lips, but an unabashed smile?

“Want me to back off?” 

Oh, there was no way you were going to take that lying down. Even if Miguel’s pubic bone was perfectly grinding into your clit. 

You let out a growl of your own and summoned all the power in your core muscles to wrestle Miguel back and claim the high ground. Out of breath when you found yourself seated on Miguel’s dick, his large, muscled body prone beneath you, you braced yourself on his rippled abdomen.

“Is the itsy-bitsy Spider-Girl gonna ride my cock?” he taunted you. If Miguel didn’t wear that arrogant, playful smirk so well, you would’ve wiped it from his lips. 

You slid your hands up the length of his chest and leaned over, your face hovering over his. “That depends. Can 2099 handle it?” 

Miguel answered you with an impatient buck of his hips up into your sex. You giggled as you straightened up again, tweaking one of Miguel's nipples as you went. You relished the little shudder it sent through him. “Alright, but remember baby, you asked for this.”

He snorted out a laugh, which you quickly silenced once you began riding Miguel like the stud he was. “Hnnn–shock, bebita.”

“Ah,” you sighed as you bounced on his prick. Before sleeping with Miguel, you had assumed the term “feeling him in your guts” was hyperbole. Not with him. “Fuck, you’re even bigger like this.” 

A large hand traced its way up one of your thighs, now lightly covered with a sheen of sweat, past your sex, split apart by his shaft, to where Miguel’s manhood made the slightest bulge in your lower belly. His smile became wider and even cockier. “It’s good, no?”

You gave him a nonverbal, but enthusiastic, reply. He smacked your ass in satisfaction, “Yeah c’mon, cariño, ride me. Wanna watch your tits bounce.” 

You officially hated Miguel and his big, thick, perfectly sized cock. Where as with other partners you’d smack them right back with a zinger, all you could do was moan again. His naughty, domineering words did nothing but excite you. There was something about him and the way he fucked that made you incapable of doing little else than enthusiastically submitting to him. You leaned back, your fingers clutching onto Miguel’s thick thighs to stability as you changed angles and gave him a better view of your breasts jiggling in time with your motions. 

“Ay, sí bebita,” Miguel’s hands flew to your hips to intensify the frantic mashing of your bodies together, “Ven aquí.”

He gathered your torso in his hulking arms and pulled you closer so that he could coax a breast into his mouth again as you rode him. 

“You gonna come for me Miguel?” you panted.  

“No,” he sounded as winded as you were. “Not yet.”

You clenched around him and snickered. “Are you sure?” 

“¡Coño!” Miguel snarled at the feel of your already blistering, tight pussy suffocating his dick further. “¡No más – basta de esto!”

The vision of your bedroom swam when Miguel lifted you off his pulsing member and dropped you back on your stomach onto the mattress facing the foot of the bed.. You could hear him shifting behind you, and you blindly groped for the lower metal railing of your bedframe’s footboard, only vaguely aware what was to come. 

A grunt from Miguel, and the next thing you knew one of your pillows was stuffed under your lower belly and his massive hands were back on either side of your hips. Your lover didn’t give you any notice before shoving his fat erection back inside of your already tender pussy. 

You shouted at the feeling of his cock stuffing you to the brim once again. Miguel’s hands appeared above your head where you held on for dear life as he impaled you on his prick.

“Ahhh!” you clamored, desperately trying to pull enough air in your lungs to function as Miguel squatted behind you. “I’ve never been so full! Oh God, Miguel, it’s so much…so much…”

Miguel responded with a pleased growl, and merely rammed into you harder. You were peripherally aware of the clanging of the pieces of your metal bed frame clanging together in protest at the vigor of your and Miguel’s coupling, but there were too many sensations overwhelming you at once to focus on one in particular. Not even when the metal groaned and the angle Miguel fucked you at changed did you pay attention to what was actually happening. You merely pushed back onto his cock as much as you could, your fingertips scrabbling into the folds of your comforter. 

Your eyes screwed shut at the barrage of stimuli - the unrelenting stretch of Miguel’s hardness,  his harsh but steadying grip on your hips, the light scratch of fabric beneath you on your skin, the little puff of warmth on the back of your neck from Miguel’s labored exhalations. You were sure this was better than any high any drug could provide. You hadn’t tried many, not even Rapture, and but nothing could top being thoroughly fucked into your mattress by Miguel O’Hara.

Miguel’s dogged grunts morphed into shouts when he at last found his release, spurting rope after rope of hot, creamy cum into your welcoming cunt. You found yourself crying out along with him as he emptied his load, your walls bearing down around his length as you both rode out his high. Miguel flooded your pussy with his seed and before you could even try to adjust to the feeling, he withdrew his cock from you, tearing a quite pathetic-sounding whimper from your mouth. 

Miguel pulled your ass cheeks apart to examine your stretched, puffy pussy leaking his cum. His chest rumbled with primal delight. “Hermosa.”

You’d barely had a chance to catch your breath when Miguel dove back in for more, this time his eager, demanding tongue again invading your channel. You whimpered again, your pitch jumping an octave at Miguel’s needy tongue not only collecting his spunk from your pussy, but flicking the muscle against your clit. He was a man possessed, he ate you out as if he needed you to orgasm one more time for his survival. 

You gave him what he wanted (how could you not?), and once the crest of your pleasure had subsided, you lightly pushed him away from your gaping, abused cunt. 

The first thing you noticed when your wits returned to you was how much closer the ground had become. 

“Oh my God,” you put it together and turned to face your partner, "we broke the bed.”

Miguel arched a brow from where he leant back into the pillows. “Are you surprised?”

You frowned at him.  

“I’ll fix it,” he promised. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’m going to…” you trailed off your gaze floating to the bathroom.

“Do your thing.”

“Can…can I get you anything?” 

Miguel glanced down at his crotch. “A towel?” 

You nodded. “Say no more.” 

You ducked into your en-suite, and once you were sure the door was firmly closed behind you, you proceeded to have a freak out to yourself in the mirror. You scarcely believe your own appearance – lips kiss swollen, hair a veritable bird's nest, your mascara smudged into rings around your eyes. Miguel had destroyed you in the best of ways. 

The thought sent a little aftershock of pleasure through you. You didn’t dally any longer — you relieved yourself, washed your hands, ran a brush through your hair and splashed water on your face. After dampening a washcloth for Miguel, you returned to the bedroom, where your bed frame was properly vertical again. 

You glimpsed the glow of Miguel’s distinctive red webs holding the broken metal rods together. The other Spider was reclining on your mattress, a sheet haphazardly tossed over his groin to preserve his modesty. Even so, the sight of him made you go weak in the knees. He really did remind you of some sort of a large cat given the odd grace in which he lounged with, the evidence of his power and strength so poorly hidden under the surface of his skin. 

“Get a new frame and expense it to Spider-HQ,” Miguel's baritone snapped you out of your reverie. 

“Oh, okay. Thanks,” You tossed him the towel. 

His eyes raked over your naked form. But instead of the desire you’d found there earlier, his gaze was full of concern. “You okay?”

“Yes. Very okay. A little sore but good sore, ya know?” 

“Good,” Miguel busied himself with cleaning up. 

“I mean, what’s the point of having superpowers if you can’t enjoy extra rough sex?” you joked. 

“Yeah, about that,” Miguel refused to meet your eyes. “As um…great as all this was…I think we–it should be a one-time thing.” 

“Um, duh.” He looked up at you hastily and you continued, “Miguel, neither of us are anywhere close to ready or in the right place for a relationship.” 

Your heart disagreed with your words, but you uttered them anyway. Not because it was how you truly felt, but you knew it was what he wanted to hear. Miguel associated any sense of closeness or vulnerability with weakness and danger. Trying to get him to see otherwise was a fool's errand, and it was easier on your heart to convince yourself into concurring with him. 

Oddly, Miguel didn’t seem to relax at your assurances. He looked dubious. “Are you sure?” 

“Oh my God, you are so cocky!” you accused him with a playful slap to the broad, tan chest. “Spare me the fake worry 2099, you may be amazing at sex, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to be professional with you at HQ.” 

“Amazing at sex?” Mirguel parroted you with a smirk. 

You slapped him again. “Of course that’s the only part you heard.”

“Sorry but those are very distracting,” he claimed, his gaze focused on your exposed breasts. 

You scoffed and grabbed a pillow to temporarily cover yourself. “Hang on there, Spider-Man. Yes, you are…not terrible at showing a lady a good time, no, you don’t have to worry about me being clingy at work, and yes, I’m sure so stop looking at me like that!” 

You tossed the pillow away and straddled him. “Now I don’t know about you, but it’s only midnight. If this is indeed a one-time thing, I say we make the most of the night and the fact that no one has bothered us with some multiversal emergency yet.” 

Miguel finally let it go, choosing to focus on your very nude body on top of his. His hips moved on their own accord, grinding his cock, already stiffening back up to full mast, against where you were still so nice and stretched for him. 

“Vamos, bebita,” he whispered into your ear. His fingers dug into your sides possessively in a way that almost let you believe he was doing it because you were his. “Wanna fuck you on the ceiling.” 

***

You shouldn't have been surprised that Miguel didn’t stay the night. You were honestly shocked when he collapsed beside you after the hours you’d spent vehemently fucking. Your bed was now held together by a mix of both his and your webs, one of your framed photos on the wall lay shattered on the floor to be dealt with later, and the ceiling now sported a dent that was going to be very difficult to explain to your landlord. 

The memory of Miguel leaving was hazy at best. After so many rounds of deeply satisfying, intensely athletic sex, you felt like you could sleep for a week. Yet the shift and dip of Miguel’s large frame exiting the bed was enough to wake you. You could sort of recall a small flash of light and chirpy voice which must have been Lyla…and you also had a vague memory of him replying in a hushed rumble as if not to wake you up. Or was he telling you he was heading out? Everything jumbled together under the fog of sleep. 

Either way, you had to tell yourself that the sensation of a large hand caressing your face and then tenderly stroking down the sleep-warm skin of your back was a dream. Not for Miguel’s sake, but yours. 

Thanks to super-spider stamina, you only really needed a couple extra shots of espresso to function somewhat normally the following day at headquarters. You were angry at your instinct to avoid Miguel. You both were adults that had an adult, mature conversation that last night’s activities were merely a form of stress release that didn’t mean anything. It was hard to believe however, when you could still feel the phantom shape of him inside of you. 

Besides, it’s not even like you could avoid him if you wanted to. You were scheduled to go over more sequencing today with Miguel, and you were dead set on not blinking first in the post-sex-awkwardness stand-off. 

“Hey, Miguel!” your voice reverberated in the vast space. 

Several agonizing moments later, his platform lowered enough for you two to start conversing. If he was at all bashful about seeing you, the man didn’t show it. 

“Good. You’re here.”

“Yep.” 

Miguel was all business. “I want to go back to the fight you had with your father. Lyla, take us to timestamp 46:90:45.”

Damn, and here you thought you were good at compartmentalizing. You did your best to hide any disappointment from reaching your face, playing along as if he hadn’t seen every crevice of your body the night before. 

***

Days turned into weeks, and you eventually, reluctantly accepted that Miguel had told you the truth that night. What you two had shared was really just a one-time lapse of his frighteningly strong self-restraint. 

You were enjoying a rare night in, parked on the couch, takeout boxes strewn about the coffee table, your favorite trashy reality show playing on your TV. You’d gotten injured taking down a Doc Ock variant a few days ago, and Miguel benched you to recuperate. You were all too happy to take a break, from him and Spider-Girling. Despite your complicated feelings for the man, he assigned a recently displaced Spider, Spider-Woman 1357, to pinch hit for you in your dimension while you healed up. It was the first time since you became a hero you had a day off with peace of mind. 

Just as you started another episode, a tingle raced down your spine. Your spider-sense. Something was about to happen. Out of all the possibilities of what could have followed, a portal opening in your living room and Miguel walking through was the last thing you would’ve guessed. You leapt up from the sofa. 

You instantly regretted your appearance - messy bun, no makeup, and ratty sweatpants. Miguel, as usual, looked immaculate in his skintight spider-suit. 

“Hey.” 

“Is this a booty call?”

“No.” 

“Don’t bullshit me–”

“It’s not, I swear! Coño, I came to check on you.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Why not?”

“Because you could have messaged me on my gizmo. It’s your preferred method of communication after all, ever since the last time you were in my apartment.” 

“May–”

Lyla appeared over his shoulder. “He missed you, that’s all.”

Miguel growled at his AI. “I’m going to sentence you to robot death via spreadsheets.” 

Lyla wasn’t threatened in the slightest. “Thank me later.” She disappeared before Miguel could try and make another retort. 

“You missed me?”

“No,” his denial was instant. “I just…I–”

“This is a booty call!” you crumpled up a napkin and chucked it at his large form. “Go home, Miguel!” 

He didn’t budge. “It’s not a booty call. I…what are you watching?”

“The Realest Housewives of Manhattan. What, don’t judge me!”

Miguel couldn't keep his face straight. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Seeing his eyes crinkle with amusement was infectious. You threw another napkin ball at him and then composed yourself. He wasn’t getting off the hook this easily. “Why are you here? Be honest with me. It’s the very least I deserve.”

“I wanted to see the shocking expensive bed frame you expensed to HQ for myself.” 

“You said I could and you didn't set a spending limit.” A wicked little grin pulled at the corners of your mouth. The bed frame from Restoration Hardware had been your own private form of revenge. “And I’m supposed to believe you wanting to see my bed – my bed that you broke–”

“Hey! We broke the bed–”

“--is not your thinly veiled excuse for seeking another roll in the hay? Enough with goddamn mind games Miguel.” He tried to speak but you pushed on, “I’m tired and this is the last thing I need.”

Miguel sobered. He hung his head. His mouth seemed to fight the words as they left his lips.  “Alright, fine. I missed you.” 

You ignored your heartbeat’s sharp increase and schooled your features to maintain a neutral appearance. “I have some extra Pad Thai if you want.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“So this may not be a booty call, but does anyone other than Lyla know you’re here?”

“No.” 

You nodded. “Come. Sit. I just started the episode where Beverly throws her poodle a forty thousand dollar birthday party.” 

“Nothing you said just now made sense,” Miguel protested, but took a seat on your couch anyway. 

A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed!! Miguel has fully rotted my brain so I thought it only fair to share the horniness. Of course I have more imagined in this AU, fingers crossed I can find more time to write (comments and reblogs and likes help!)

Translations:

Mierda - Shit 

cariño - dear

bebita - baby

Gracias a Dios - Thank God

Ven aquí - Come here

¡Coño! - Damnit!

¡No más – basta de esto! -No more, enough of this!

Hermosa - beautiful

Vamos, bebita - Come on, baby

Taglist: @plethora-of-imagines, @itdobe-liza @absolutelybloodyhopeless @ninebluehearts, @oscarissac2099 @trinthealternate