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anundyingfidelity · 1 year ago

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FOR ALL TIME, ALWAYS – Loki x female reader

Summary: Loki escapes the TVA for a moment. Desperate and brokenhearted, he looks for you, his wife, in the Sacred Timeline. Even if you saw him die ten years ago.

Word count: 3.9k.

Warnings: LOTS of angst, some fluff, spoilers of Loki series in general. Language. Maybe I'm not getting how the branches work oops. This is right after the end of 2x02 and before 2x03. My English is also a warning, just in case.

Notes: while looking on the tags I checked a post of someone asking for a TVA Loki fic where he finds the reader but her Loki died in IW (not canon in my head btw). So I wrote it because is such a great idea, but I can't find the original post... ;-; anyway hope you like this!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

It's harder to stay...

Wasn't this situation hard enough? Sylvie was right. She had a point. But Loki wanted to do the right thing. Maybe he would find a chance... Again, right? Probably he would make the proper decisions this time.

The TVA was already fucked up, and with it, the thousands of timelines and lives in danger within them. Sometimes, it looked like it didn't matter. In the end, they were trying to fix something that was already broken.

Loki let out a deep breath he didn't realise was holding and walked to talk directly to his partner, Mobius.

"I need a favor," Loki mumbled, so the grey-haired man would be the only person to hear his voice.

Mobius met his eyes. He knew that gaze, it meant he was up to something. "What kind of favor?"

The god motioned Mobius to step away from the newly acknowledged variants and far away from what B-15 was witnessing. The branches were pruned from the whole existence; thousands and millions of lifes lost to the void in just the blink of an eye. Loki knew he had to do something before it got worst. Something for himself.

"I need to go the Sacred Timeline," Loki announced.

"Are you nuts?" Mobius scolded, in the same low voice tone Loki had used.

"Is just- listen, it's something I have to do. I really need to go back there. Need to see someone, make sure everything is okay," Loki insisted.

During all the times Loki showed he was desperate, Mobius was sure this was the peak of all of them. He wasn't explaning more than necessary, he looked serious, and his voice was crisp. Loki knew what he wanted at that moment. Mobius sighed, his hands finding the pockets of his pants, unsure of Loki's request.

"So it's personal..."

"A little, yeah," Loki nodded.

"Promise it'll be quick," Mobius said, taking off the TemPad from his pocket and his hand stopped in the air before the object could lay in the god's grip. "Don't make me regret this."

"I won't."

2029, Sacred Timeline

When Loki arrived to his destination, the nerves got the best from him. New York looked no different from the last time he was there. Shifting his usual clothes he wore at the TVA, he chose a plain suit to go undercover, or at least decided he would try to, considering he was a criminal once in Midgard.

But as he walked through the halls of the familiar building he met decades ago, he didn't really care. He longed for something else. Better say, someone. And it was you.

You, who met him in the past right after Thor's banishment, and even helped him to find the Teseract, only to give up to SHIELD and those idiots that people called 'The Avengers'. Of course his heart hurted for a long time, but Loki tried to deny the feelings blooming inside and instead, he just decided to walk away from you, even if that meant hurting you. It was the best.

At least that was what he believed until he checked further his file; the file that Mobius had prepared for him. His life. Even after what he did to your people and planet, you still held no grudges. And Thor was good enough to seek for yours and the sorcerer's, Stephen Strange, help once Hela appeared in their lives.

Loki would never forget the loving look in your beautiful eyes when you saw him again, after years of parting ways. He really paid attention to you while watching his file, and he found there was only love, protection, and care in you. All for him. Someone who didn't deserve it, he thought.

He felt grateful at least he had the pleasure to enjoy happiness for a moment. Even if that meant Asgard was destroyed. Loki already lost his mother, his father, and he almost lost his brother. He couldn't stand losing you either. The simple idea of living without you - even if he didn't know you further than your Loki did - was unbearable pain.

So while in the ship on the way to Midgard with the asgardians and survivors of the Ragnarok, you held a cozy, small wedding when he asked you to marry him. This was one of the parts Loki would replay again and again from his file, with disbelief that he was actually happy and joyful, enjoying a good time with you, his brother, and all the asgardians who survived. Loki felt full of hope after your wedding, thinking fate had better things to come with you as an oficial part of his life.

Unfortunately, it didn't last long, thanks to the Mad Titan. As his steps got near your door, the memory of his brother and your figure mourning on his lifeless body appeared on his mind. It was an image he couldn't erase that easily. Probably, he would never forget that was his original destiny all the way. That was meant to be. And for now, he could not change it.

Loki stopped outside your apartment. He took a deep breath and raised his shaking hand to reach the doorbell. He waited for a moment, not knowing if seconds or minutes went by, it felt eternal. Until the door opened and he saw you.

The bright smile you had on your lips faded away. Your eyes flooded with tears, your forehead was furrowed, and still, Loki thought you were the most beautiful creature in all the Nine Realms.

"Hi..." Loki barely whispered, his eyes were glossy and a single tear also ran down his pale cheek.

You were clearly in shock. You wanted to get closer and finally touch him, to feel him physically. But even if you wanted to move to take his hand to confirm it wasn't a trick of your ruined mind, your body was stiff and your feet were glued to the ground.

"Is this an illusion?" you trembled.

All Loki could do was shaking his head, before muttering. "No..."

"Loki, I saw you die..."

Tears ran down your face, denying to yourself that this was real. That this was really happening to you. And your mind started to wonder all the possible scenarios and reasons on why him, the god of mischief, the only person you loved dearly with all your mind, body and soul, was standing right in front of your door even if he was gone for you... Long gone now. And that couldn't be undone.

"I know you did, my love."

You tried to smile, even a little bit, as he pronounced those words so dearly. Loki came closer to your figure, carefully placing a trembling hand on your cheek, feeling the tears flowing on your skin. You leaned into his touch, with a simpering smile. Such was the effect you had on him, that a silly smile he also had on his lips.

And you realized Loki was so real... His touch, his heat, his smile, his scent, the way he would hold you... Everything about him was exactly as you remembered. You felt his lips brushing softly against yours, gentle and hesitant, and instantly, you melted into a slow kiss, sure knowing that Loki would taste the salt of your tears running down your face. Leaning in closer as the space between would allow you, you savoured each second your breaths allowed, longing to remain right there for eternity. For all time. Always.

"But now I am here... and I can explain," he whispered once you separated your lips from his in the sweetest way.

You let out a soft chuckle. "Mind to enlighten me, oh, god of mischief?"

Finally you guided him inside your apartment. That old apartment Loki saw his other self visiting a couple of times before you were something. It still had your vibe around it and he loved it. He felt like he was at home after a very long time. Once you closed the door, his arms wrapped around your figure, and you let yourself cry, pressing against his chest and with a tight grip of your hands on his coat.

"You don't have any idea of how much I have missed you all these years," you sobbed and his heart shrank on his chest. "I kept wishing every night and every day to be me instead of you."

"My love," he said softly, separating a little and cupping your cheeks with his warm hands. His eyes were red now because of the tears he was holding back again. "Don't say that... It was supposed to happen."

"What?" you mumbled.

Your hands found his wrists and you pulled his palms away from your cheeks. However you kept the contact with him, you just needed to touch him, to feel he was in the flesh. He was alive right now, wasn't he?

"Look, I am not your Loki. I know what you did, what the Avengers did after Thanos-" his voice broke just a bit but he continued. "I know everything. I just couldn't resist knowing there was someone for me, out there in the Nine Realms, capable to love me for who I am," Loki explained as he watched your face. Was it disappointment? Confusion? He didn't know, but he had to tell you the truth.

Your voice came out as a barely audible whisper. "So... you are saying... you're another Loki? Another him?"

He nodded softly. "I am." Loki thought for a moment on how to explain everything, but he just went for what his heart felt it was right. "It's a little complicated. I did something that wasn't supposed to be, and perhaps will sound like I'm insane, but thanks to that I am kind of trapped in time. With an organization that is not what everyone thought it was, hence a multiverse was created. Sponsored by another me, by the way. You are in what is called the Sacred Timeline, where things flow as how they were supposed to since forever. And I just needed to see you after I found out you were the love of my life."

You took a moment to understand everything he said, wishing that his fate would have been different from what originally happened. Loki gave his best, even in the last worst moments, he was changing for good. For you. For Thor... It wasn't fair.

"Your death was supposed to be then?"

"Yes, it was."

"Oh, Loki," you cried. "You know what, I don't care what's happened. I'm just- I feel happy seeing you here... Please tell me everything you've been through. I want to hear your voice again, to know you're with me right now, to feel you near... I'm not crazy, am I?" you chuckled between tears and Loki curved his lips in a smile, wiping your tears from your face with his thumbs.

Loki granted your wish and explained everything, answering every question you had about the lies of the TVA; the files he found out were his whole life; about Sylvie, Mobius and his variants. He spilled all you wanted to hear, asking like a child, until you understood what was happening. You noticed he truly had changed, just like your Loki did when he reunited with Thor before the Ragnarok took over Asgard. It was a bittersweet feeling however, thinking how much they they seemed to each other. They were the same person after all, but this Loki didn't had the chance to continue his path as it was supposed to.

Taking his hand into yours, you leaned towards him and laid down your head on his shoulder while you both sat comfortable in the couch, just enjoying each others company. Your eyes were dry at this point after crying for what it felt were hours, but his voice helped to soothe you enough.

"I'm glad knowing you have someone like Mobius by your side," you said after a quiet moment. "He sounds like a very good friend," you looked at him, waiting for an answer. "Because that's what he is to you, right?"

"He is a great friend, I'm not alone if that is what is troubling you," Loki affirmed.

You let out a sigh. "That is totally a relief to me."

Loki chuckled softly, leaning to leave a kiss on your hair. "Now you've heard everything about me, would I hear something from you?"

"I'm just a mortal, Loki," you smiled. "Doing the normal shit, not the superhero stuff anymore. I am hating my pretty much normal office job every day; I feed the birds when I go outside at the park, also thinking about adopting a cat or a dog... Maybe a dog."

"Or you could do both."

"Yeah, I might. But my place isn't that big for pets. Sometimes I feel like I'm too alone, very much alone... I would love to have a big farm, or a cabin in the mountains with lots of plants, pets and animals to take care of." The idea did sound good for Loki. Hopefuly you could find peace that way. "Do you remember Pepper?" you said, straighting up on the couch to look at him. He nodded. "Well, after Tony died I still visit her and their daughter, Morgan. She is ten years old, could you believe it?" Loki noticed the sorrow and pain you still carried after all those years of losing your friends, your people... "And I've been missing you and mourning you for ten years as well."

"It's not your fault."

"I know, Loki."

"Do whatever is the best for you, my dear... I would have loved to be here with you now, as the Loki from the Sacred Timeline."

You smiled, but it was a sad smile. "Well, either way, you're here now. It's all that matters to me."

Once again, you shared a loving kiss and took his hand to walk to the kitchen, asking him to take a seat in your breakfast bar, glad he decided to search for you in one of your free days. Otherwise, you would have surely missed his visit. But he was looking for you. Probably Loki would have found you anywhere at this point.

You talked some more while you had some tea and ate some cookies that you saved for special days on the shelfs. The afternoon was pleasant, and this was your turn to speak. Loki, coat long gone, was catching up with you and he asked every single thing about your life now. He smiled more than ever, laughed more than you have ever seen, and it was certainly something you could get used to from now on. Knowing you never continued your life with another person made his heart ache though. However, Loki was no one to blame. He would have done the same thing. No other was like you, no one would have replaced you.

"It's my decision," you finally said, reading his face like an open book. "I have loved you, I love you now and I will love you forever."

He took your hand, lacing your fingers with his. "I know..."

"The day we married you gave me a ring. I always have it with me, today I'm not working, but I use this necklace with your ring," you searched for the necklace hiding inside your shirt and taking it off, you showed him the precious jewel hanging on a fine golden chain. The ring he recognized once was from his mother. "I want you to have it."

"No,I can't-"

"But this is what I want. I know I would have to forget, because you will make me forget about this. About you, coming here, risking everything just to see me. So please, take it."

Loki knew you had made a decision, but then if he left, taking your memories away about this day, what was left for you? He had nothing, and it was okay. He would still know he came to the Sacred Timeline; that he kissed you, that you shared a moment together, that you still loved him. But you will have none of that. And you, as human as you were, would die without the memories and without the ring. You would have nothing and he was sure couldn't bear it.

"Perhaps I can have something else to remember you, I want you to keep this ring as a promise," he closed your hand around the necklace. "My promise that I still love you and I will do it. Forever."

And you sighed, taking the necklace back with a smile. Always so stubborn. "Give me a moment."

Loki saw you leave the kitchen for some minutes. While he was alone, he noticed the sunset through the windows, as it was almost ending to welcome the dark sky around the city. He knew he had to go soon. As much as he didn't want to and the simple thought of runing away was starting to hurt him deep inside.

When you arrived, you stood by his seat on the breakfast bar, putting a small photograph, perfect for a passport, on the surface. It was all in black and white, and you looked what you thought it was nice. Loki took it between his hands, lovingly and with a proud smile on his face.

"I used that when I was taking my Master's degree. Looks pretty decent," you joked.

Loki laughed, tears right at the corner of his eyes. "It's more than that. It's perfect."

His smile faded, knowing this meant he had to leave you again. Loki wasn't supposed to have a happy ending, was he? How he wished to stay there by your side.

You kissed his cheek as a sort of goodbye and comfort at the same time, noticing the sudden change on his face and whispered softly. "So you don't search for me on those files."

"Thank you, love."

Loki got on his feet to put his coat on, like some sort of mental preparation before leaving your apartment and the Sacred Timeline. He saved your photograph on his pocket securely along with Mobius' TemPad, pretending to be strong and swallowing all the pain he was feeling right at that moment. You took his hand, lacing your fingers together one last time and walked until you stood there, in the middle of your living room. He looked at you with loving eyes, trying to save your face and your figure before returning to where he was supposed to be now. And it seemed like time had stopped, as everything Loki could see and feel was you and only you.

"I guess is time now," you began, interrupting his mind.

"I guess it is," Loki nodded, expecting an answer from you. Anything. But it never came. You were also trying to save the moment as much as you could.

So he cupped your cheeks, feeling for the last time your warm, soft skin against his palms. He didn't want to talk, because if he would have said something, it meant you were really saying goodbye forever. What Loki didn't know is that you felt the same thing.

Was there something good to say to your lover, whose destiny was just to bring the best from other people with his cruelty and chaos? To the man who had learn to make things better and, in the end, died trying to protect his people and his wife? Was there anything out there that would bring the god of mischief the happiness and love you always knew he deserved? With these branches and multiverse thing, you hoped deep in your heart there was a universe where he found what he longed for so long. This was just one of many of them. Probably he was happy and living in peace in some others.

"I love you, Loki," you mumbled. He caressed your skin with his thumbs and wiped the small tears that were running on your cheeks.

"I love you too."

Loki leaned to kiss you one last time. You welcomed the kiss with shut eyes, savouring his lips and the taste of your tears, mixing now with his own.

The pain started to bloom; every heartbeat felt like a sledgehammer pounding against his chest. He was not ready to let you go, so this was all he could do. The seidr flowed from his fingers, the green lights covering your body with the help of the spell he casted for you was made to protect you from anything that could get out of hand in the Sacred Timeline, particularly from his own hands, the hands of the TVA, or any other danger that could chase you. Because if something would happen to you due to his stubborn decision, Loki knew he wouldn't forgive himself. What he was sure about though, was that he would still look for you until the end of time.

So when the kiss ended, you fell asleep in seconds. He had to take your sleeping figure with his arms to your bedroom, where he carefully laid you down on the bed. Making sure you were comfortable in your sleep, fixing the pillows and the blankets, Loki remained there, just to take in the serenity emanating from you. It was something you had, the ease and calm your aura projected to everyone in the room. This was the last thing Loki wanted to save from you.

He kissed your forehead and dried the tears on your face before standing up. Once you were to wake up in some hours, you would not be able to know everything was real. Loki made sure you thought it was a dream. So that is what you would have in your head. Something you wished for so long that will only be nothing but thoughts, scenes and emotions that felt absolutely true. As real as life could be.

Loki took the TemPad and opened the timedoor to go back to the TVA, where he knew Mobius would be waiting already since he left for hours. Without looking back to your room, he stepped in and forced to compose himself just in case he would bump into someone else. He sighed, observing through the halls of the headquaters as he made his way back to the room that was assigned to him.

At his door, a worried Mobius was already waiting for him, walking in circles.

"God, Loki I thought you were gone for a second," the analyst breathed out. Loki just handed the TemPad and Mobius took it back. He noticed his weary demeanor and teary eyes. "Thank you. Sorry I doubted you for a second."

"It's fine," Loki shrugged it off, looking for something on his pocket. The photograph slipped from his fingers and fell down to the floor. Mobius was quick enough to pick it up for him, but as he gave it back to his owner he observed it thoroughly.

"So this was the personal thing you did," Mobius said, looking the photograph resting on Loki's hand. He remembered that face from his files.

"Yeah... I guess all set now," Loki sighed.

"Good, I hope you're ready for another trip to the Sacred Timeline." Mobius turned to walk away, deciding it was better to give him some time, but he turned back to Loki before doing so. "And if you're feeling like talking about this any day, only between us, just let me know."

And with that, he walked away. Loki smiled, standing alone outside his door.

You were right. Mobius was a good friend.

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #tva loki x reader #tva loki x female reader #tva!loki x reader #loki imagines #loki angst #loki laufesyon x reader #loki series fanfiction #loki season 2 #mcu loki x reader #mcu loki #loki series

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iikisa · 1 month ago

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heres more teacher rin au!!!!

ill have some more deets under the cut about this hehe

Welcome back aoex fandom… I’ve decided for this AU to be called “Tightrope”!!!! Haha,, yeah it’s definitely not what i was saying earlier in that ask..

But yeah!!! I’ll be tagging any post related to this AU under a tag from now on! ;)

(The rest of this will contain spoilers from the manga, but then again this whole AU has been spoilers..)

Alrighty, this time we’re going over the reason for Rin’s appearance… Just as in the manga, Rin becomes “unstable” through Yukio breaking his sword, except in this tightrope au, their relationship was much more rockier than it was in the manga. So much stuff that wasn’t cleared up, lots of avoidance, not so much emotional stability.. There’s a whole background to how Yukio and Rin’s upbringing would’ve happened in this AU because of their little aged-up situation— some events are interpreted differently to fit and others are just completely new, you can assume— so obviously things happened differently between them without Yukio being the cram school’s teacher and Rin actually attending said school to begin with…

So, now that Yukio left Rin for Illuminati, leaving him completely lonely and without a proper purpose to live for in life… Rin’s demonic nature is left in a “tightrope-like” situation.

See how the title relates? And boy does it apply for many other things too.

Where is Mephisto to help with all this you ask? Oh he tried to offer Rin help by going into the past, but even after learning of his origins (I don't think it helped his self-esteem much tbh) Rin still finds himself unable to "restabilize". Like in the manga, it's not until Rin truly accepts both sides to himself is he able to truly stabilize. This AU is obviously more heavy on the twins terrible communication and relationship, so obviously this will be harder for Rin.

For as long as he can remember, Rin's always thought of himself as a nuisance to his family. And with Fujimoto's death, everything seems to be Rin's fault and he's not stupid enough as to not notice the pattern. Unfortunately, this really eats away at Rin, especially with how distant Yukio was with him. So until Rin can learn to accept the uglier parts of himself, he won't be stable. And Yukio is the most important part for him to realize that.

Now… time for the appearance explanation.

When Rin first "unstabilizes" his hair, ears, and eyes change (other smaller details like his canines as well as the newest addition of little nubs on his forehead). The more "unstable" he is, the more prominent these features become—his hair is wholly whitish-blue, his ears and canines are pointier, his eyes are sharper and more vibrant, and his little horns get bigger.

After becoming a not-so-substitute-teacher for the cram school, these features start to become smaller or fade away!!!! Depending on Rin’s emotional state—negative emotions lead to instability and positive emotions leads to stability— his appearance changes. The happier and healthier he is, the more his black roots take place (his original hair color) and the duller his other features become!

Now as for his flames.. I think some logic may be off canon for this but it’ll be fine! He can freely use his flames like he does during the final war-against-satan arc, however, his state of stability changes how precisely he can use them. The more unstable he is, the broader and rougher the attacks. When he’s more stable, his attacks can be more precise and controlled, such as shaping his flames into weapons and other uses.

Anywho, I’ll have to start on making these differences more noticeable for the Rin’s I’m drawing out, because I do like to draw him at different times of his life (if you take note of his hair,,, its one of his best indicators ahah). But yes. Now that I’ve written this concept out (after I drew these sketches whoops) I’ll be showing off a little more of the story once some heavy inspiration hits me. I hope you guys enjoy hearing about this AU as much as I love writing and drawing it!!!!! I’d love to hear feedback or any fic recommendations..! They are my fuel.

Thank you for listening to the end, much love <3

#<3 #iikisa’s tightrope au #tightrope au #aoex tightrope au #art #fanart #aoex fanart #aoex au #ao no exorcist au #ao no exorcist fanart #blue exorcist au #blue exorcist fanart #blue exorcist #okumura rin fanart #rin okumura fanart #rin okumura

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rootedinrevisions · 2 months ago

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Friends (with Benefits) Don't: Part 8

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the final part of this story that I have written (as of right now). I'm going to try to get some of my other WIPs finished and posted but definitely may revisit Jake & Halo down the road because these two were fun to write about!

SUMMARY: After recovering from this mission Jake decides it's time to take Halo on their first date. But it has to be special. Dinner and a movie just won't do.

OTHER PART(S): PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3 I PART 4 I PART 5 I

PART 6 I PART 7

WORD COUNT: 3.3k

WARNINGS: FLUFF.

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS BELOW

Jake had been thinking about this date for weeks. It wasn’t just any night out; this was their first real date—one where there weren’t any distractions, hospital beds, or work keeping them apart. He wanted it to be special, but not over the top. Simple, thoughtful, something that showed her how much she meant to him.

He wasn’t exactly known for being the romantic type, but with her, things were different. She made him want to try, to push past his comfort zone and show her how deeply he cared.

Jake sat at the small table in his apartment, a notepad in front of him, scribbling ideas. He knew the usual fancy dinners and upscale restaurants wouldn’t feel like them—too impersonal. He wanted this to be something she’d remember, something with meaning. His eyes flicked to his phone, the picture of her smiling after their impromptu boat ride last week was still his lock screen.

That’s when the idea hit him.

He dialed Penny’s number before he could second-guess it.

“Hey, Penny, I need a favor,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “How would you feel about letting me borrow the boat for the night?”

The conversation with Penny went smoother than expected, and before he knew it, the pieces were falling into place. A sunset sail, a quiet dinner at her favorite beachside spot, and, if he could manage it, a moonlit walk on the beach afterward. It was simple, but it was them.

He made a mental note to keep things low-key with the planning, wanting to surprise her. Jake smiled to himself, imagining her reaction when she saw the boat. He knew she’d be impressed. And if there was one thing Jake liked to do, it was impressing her.

Satisfied with his plan, he sent her a quick message: “Hey, beautiful. Wear something nice tonight. Be ready by 7. And trust me.”

Later that night, Jake could feel his heart pounding a little harder than usual. It wasn’t nerves—he was a fighter pilot, after all—but something about this night made him feel more grounded, more present than usual. This wasn’t just about impressing her; this was about showing her that he was serious, that their relationship wasn’t just about convenience or casual fun. This was real.

By the time 6:45 rolled around, Jake was standing in front of the mirror, straightening his shirt and adjusting his collar for the third time. He smirked at his own reflection, shaking his head. When had he become the guy who fussed over his appearance before a date? Normally a quick glance was all he did and then he was on his way. But with her, it felt important. He wanted to look his best for her, to show her he’d put thought into tonight.

He grabbed the bouquet of flowers from the counter—bright, colorful, and full of life, just like her—and gave himself a quick once-over in the mirror before heading out the door.

The drive to her place was quick, but it gave him time to think, to go over the plan again in his head. He wanted everything to be perfect, and he hoped she’d love the little surprises he had in store. He arrived five minutes early, because showing up late wasn’t an option tonight.

When he pulled up to her apartment, Jake’s heart did an extra flip in his chest. He spotted her silhouette through the window, moving around as she got ready. His stomach fluttered with anticipation as he parked the car and grabbed the flowers.

He took a deep breath and knocked on her door, his fingers tapping nervously against the bouquet. When the door opened, all the jitters melted away. There she stood, looking stunning, her smile lighting up the doorway.

“Hey, darlin’,” Jake said, flashing her a grin. “You look... wow.”

He held out the flowers, watching as her eyes lit up at the sight of them. They weren’t anything too fancy, just a simple bouquet from the supermarket, but the way her face softened when she took them told him everything he needed to know.

“These are beautiful,” she said, taking the flowers from him and inhaling their sweet scent. “Thank you.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” he teased, leaning against the doorframe as she turned to put them in a vase. He watched her for a moment, feeling that familiar warmth in his chest whenever she was near. She moved around the room with a grace that mesmerized him, and he couldn’t help but think how lucky he was to have her in his life.

“Ready to go?” he asked once she had the flowers arranged.

She nodded, grabbing her small bag and stepping out of the apartment. Jake offered her his arm, feeling her fingers loop through his with a sense of ease and comfort that he never wanted to take for granted.

“So,” she started as they headed toward his car, “you’re not going to tell me where we’re going?”

He shook his head, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Nope. You’re just gonna have to trust me.”

She raised an eyebrow but smiled, knowing that whatever he had planned, it would be worth the mystery.

As they pulled up to the marina, the sight of the boat waiting for them caught her eye, and a flicker of surprise crossed her face. Jake grinned at her reaction, parking the car and coming around to open her door.

“You ready?” he asked, offering his hand to help her out.

Her eyes darted from the boat back to him, a mixture of excitement and skepticism playing on her features. “Wait… you’re taking me on a boat?” she asked, biting her lip. “I didn’t even know you could sail.”

He chuckled, brushing off her concern with a wave of his hand. “I had some help,” he admitted, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. “Mav and Penny gave me a few lessons the last couple of weeks. Figured I should learn a thing or two.”

She raised an eyebrow, glancing back at the boat with a slight grin. “And you're sure you’re not just winging it?” she teased, trying to suppress her nerves as he led her down the dock.

“Trust me,” Jake said with a wink, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “I got this.”

When they reached the boat, Jake stepped onto the deck first, offering his hand to her once again. She hesitated for just a second, her eyes scanning the water below them before taking a deep breath and grasping his hand. With a gentle tug, he helped her onto the boat, steadying her as she found her footing.

“There you go, darlin’. Piece of cake,” he said, flashing her that signature confident grin.

She looked around the boat, impressed by how prepared he seemed. It was a calm evening, the sky above streaked with soft hues of orange and pink as the sun began its descent. The water was tranquil, barely a ripple as the boat gently swayed in the marina. Jake moved with ease, untying the ropes and readying the sails like he’d been doing it for years.

The boat began to glide smoothly away from the dock, and as they drifted farther from the shore, the tension she felt about his sailing skills began to melt away. The wind caught the sails, and Jake guided them through the water with confident hands on the helm, his focused expression softening as he glanced over at her.

“You’re really good at this,” she said, her voice full of genuine admiration. “I didn’t know you were hiding this talent.”

Jake laughed, shaking his head. “Guess I’m full of surprises.”

She leaned against the railing, watching the shoreline fade into the distance as the boat cruised farther out. The city’s lights grew faint, leaving only the sound of the water lapping against the boat and the breeze rustling the sails. It was peaceful—an entirely different world from the chaos and noise of everyday life. For the first time in a while, she felt truly relaxed.

Once Jake had guided them to a secluded spot far enough from the shore, he dropped the anchor, letting the boat gently float in place. He turned to her, the soft light from the setting sun casting a warm glow over them. Without a word, he moved toward her, his arm slipping around her waist as he led her to a cushioned spot on the deck. He sat down first, pulling her close until she was nestled against him, her back resting against his chest.

His arms wrapped securely around her, and she felt herself melting into his embrace, her body instinctively relaxing. She let out a quiet sigh of contentment, closing her eyes as the warmth of his body and the gentle rocking of the boat lulled her into a state of calm.

Jake pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering there for a moment. She smiled at the gesture, her heart swelling with affection. Everything about this moment—the boat, the water, the fading sun—felt perfect. But most of all, it was him. It was the way he made her feel safe, cherished, and utterly content.

“You good?” he asked quietly, his voice low and soothing.

“Mhm,” she murmured, tilting her head back slightly so she could meet his eyes. “I’m really good.”

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before leaning down to place another kiss on her forehead.

“I’m glad,” he whispered, his voice carrying a rare tenderness that she’d come to love.

For a long while, they sat there in comfortable silence, just listening to the sound of the water around them. Her eyes fluttered shut again, and she felt the gentle rise and fall of Jake’s chest beneath her. His arms tightened slightly around her, and she couldn’t help but think that this—being in his arms, away from everything else—was exactly where she wanted to be.

As the sky darkened, the stars beginning to peek out one by one, Jake spoke again, his voice rumbling in her ear.

“You know,” he said, his tone playful yet sincere, “I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed anything as much as this.”

She smiled, opening her eyes to look up at him. “I have to admit, I wasn’t sure what to expect when you told me to trust you to plan the date.”

“And now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Now… I’m really glad I did.”

His smile widened, and he gave her a soft, lingering kiss. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, their noses brushing as they stayed close, neither of them wanting to break the moment.

“Good,” he said softly. “Because I plan on doing a lot more of this.”

They both laughed quietly, the sound mingling with the gentle splash of the water around them. As the boat rocked them in its gentle rhythm, she closed her eyes once again, allowing herself to fully sink into the warmth of Jake’s embrace. Wrapped in his arms, the world seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of them and the infinite possibilities ahead.

After their peaceful time on the boat, Jake helped her back onto the dock with the same care and confidence he’d shown before. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky awash in purples and deep blues as they made their way along the beach to her favorite restaurant. Nestled right by the water, the restaurant had an outdoor patio with string lights casting a soft, romantic glow over the tables. It was the perfect spot—casual yet intimate, just like the evening had been so far.

As they approached the entrance, Jake glanced over at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Still trust me to make the right calls?" he teased lightly.

She grinned, giving his hand a playful squeeze. "So far, you're doing great, Seresin. Don't get too cocky, though."

He chuckled, guiding her inside, where a hostess greeted them with a friendly smile and led them to a table near the edge of the patio. The sound of the waves was a constant backdrop, soothing and rhythmic, as they sat down and settled in. Jake pulled out her chair, and she couldn’t help but smile at the small chivalrous gesture.

Once they were seated, she looked out at the view, the beach just beyond, with the moon starting to reflect off the water. “You really went all out tonight,” she said, a hint of admiration in her voice.

Jake leaned back in his chair, looking entirely at ease as he smiled at her. “Nothing but the best for you.”

Her cheeks warmed slightly, and she reached for the menu, trying to hide the flutter of butterflies that his simple words caused. As they browsed the menu, Jake snuck glances at her, admiring the way her eyes lit up when she looked over the options. The flickering candlelight between them added a romantic glow to the moment, and it wasn’t long before their waitress came to take their orders.

Once the waitress left, Jake leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table as he looked at her. “You know,” he began, his tone casual yet sincere, “I was thinking earlier... I’m pretty lucky.”

She raised an eyebrow, setting her menu aside. “Oh? How’s that?”

Jake’s gaze softened, and he reached across the table, his fingers lightly brushing hers. “I get to do this with you. I mean, I know I’m a handful sometimes,” he said with a playful smirk, “but you still put up with me.”

Her heart swelled at his words. “You’re not a handful,” she said, smiling warmly. “Well, okay, maybe sometimes.” She laughed softly. “But tonight... this has been perfect, Jake.”

He grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “Good.”

They continued talking, their conversation flowing effortlessly as they discussed everything from their favorite childhood memories to places they wanted to travel. Jake kept the mood light, cracking jokes and teasing her with that signature charm, but every so often, his compliments would slip through, genuine and heartfelt.

“You look amazing tonight, by the way,” he said at one point, his eyes sweeping over her with unmistakable appreciation. “I think I forgot to mention that.”

She blushed, ducking her head slightly. “You didn't, but I’ll let you say it again,” she teased, glancing back up at him. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Not so bad?” he echoed, feigning offense as he placed a hand over his heart. “Darlin’, I’m crushed.”

She laughed, reaching out to nudge his hand playfully. “Okay, fine. You look great, Jake.”

“That’s more like it,” he said with a wink, his grin widening as he took another sip of his drink.

Their food arrived not long after, and as they started to eat, the conversation became more thoughtful. Jake asked her about her week, genuinely interested in the small details of her day-to-day life. She found herself opening up more than she expected, telling him about work, her friends, and even the things that had been stressing her out. And the entire time, Jake listened attentively, nodding along and offering reassurances whenever she expressed a worry or frustration.

“You’ve got a lot on your plate,” he remarked after she finished talking about a particularly hectic project. “I don’t know how you manage it all.”

She shrugged, smiling softly. “I guess I just take it one day at a time.”

Jake reached across the table again, his hand resting on top of hers. “Well, if you ever need someone to help take your mind off it... I’m here.”

There was something in the way he said it—sincere and steady—that made her heart skip a beat. She squeezed his hand in response, grateful for his support. “I know. And I really appreciate that, Jake.”

They lingered over dinner, savoring both the food and the company. The beachside restaurant had become more lively as the night progressed, but for the two of them, it felt like they were in their own little world. Jake continued to sprinkle in compliments throughout the meal, each one making her blush or smile. And the way he looked at her—like she was the only person in the room—made her feel more special than she ever had before.

As they finished their meals, Jake leaned back in his chair, gazing out at the ocean for a moment before turning his attention back to her. “There’s one more thing we need to do tonight,” he said, his voice low and soft.

She tilted her head curiously. “What’s that?”

He stood up, offering his hand. “Come take a walk with me.”

She smiled, slipping her hand into his as she stood up. Together, they made their way down to the beach, the soft sand beneath their feet as the gentle sound of the waves filled the air. The moon had risen fully by now, casting a silvery light over the water, and the breeze carried the salty scent of the ocean.

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, her hand still in his as they strolled along the shoreline. Jake squeezed her hand occasionally, glancing over at her with a content smile. She couldn’t help but marvel at how thoughtful he’d been tonight—everything from the boat ride to the dinner to this peaceful walk had been perfectly planned.

“This is nice,” she murmured, breaking the silence. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

Jake smiled, his eyes soft as he looked at her. “I remember you saying that,” he said, his voice warm. “Figured it was time to make that wish come true.”

She beamed at him, touched by his thoughtfulness. “You’re full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I’m just getting started,” he teased, nudging her playfully with his shoulder.

They continued walking until they reached a quieter part of the beach, where Jake suddenly stopped, turning to face her. There was a seriousness in his expression now, though the warmth and affection in his eyes remained.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he said, his tone shifting.

Her heart skipped a beat, sensing the weight of whatever he was about to say. “What is it?”

Jake took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck for a moment before meeting her gaze. “I got my next deployment,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m staying at North Island for at least the next year.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, a rush of emotions flooding her at once—relief, happiness, and excitement all mingling together. “Jake... that’s amazing,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, taking a step closer to her. “It means we’ve got time, darlin’. Time to figure this out... you and me. No more rules or boundaries. Just us.”

She felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his words. Without thinking, she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Jake wrapped his arms around her in return, holding her close as they stood there, enveloped in each other’s warmth.

As they pulled back slightly, Jake pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, then her nose, before finally capturing her lips in a gentle, lingering kiss. When they broke apart, their foreheads rested together, and the world around them seemed to disappear.

“I’m all in,” Jake whispered, his voice filled with quiet determination.

“So am I,” she whispered back, her heart full.

And in that moment, with the ocean stretching out before them and the stars above, everything felt right. It was just the two of them—together.

#Top Gun Hangman #Top Gun Hangman Fanfiction #Top Gun Hangman Fanfic #Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin Fanfiction #Jake Seresin Fanfic #Jake Hangman Seresin #Jake Seresin x reader #Hangman x reader

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alice-after-dark · 7 months ago

Text

Vox as an Abuse Victim

So here is that massive Vox post I promised, a day late for...reasons. I swear I have been working on this post for days, even before that StaticMoth discourse influx in my inbox.

After making my post about Vox and Angel and reading @deeply-unserious-fellow's post about a similar topic, I thought it might be finally time to make this post. Most people who have seen my content know how I typically portray StaticMoth. I have mixed feelings about Valentino at the best of times and outright dislike him at the worst. But frankly this post isn't actually about him (well, mostly). It's about Vox and why I am really hoping that Viv keeps the angle of Vox being an abuse victim.

TW for domestic abuse, physical violence, implied sexual abuse, abusive relationships, gaslighting/victim-blaming, and other canon-typical triggers. Contain abusive StaticMoth.

Honestly? The primary reason I hope she keeps it is because it would make him an even more complex character and bring attention to a criminally underrepresented group: abuse victims who are also bad people.

As pointed out in the post I tagged above, the world has become obsessed with this idea of a "palatable" victim, the poor suffering cinnamon roll. An abuse victim is expected to look like a victim. You're supposed to instantly feel sorry for them and want to protect them...but that's not so easy when the victim is someone who also hurts people, is it? It's not so easy to pretend they didn't do bad things too...but they are still a victim. That does not change just because they are a bad person. And thus it becomes complicated and interesting. Because it's not so easy to root for the victim when they're also victimizing others, especially when those others are people we care about...like Angel Dust. At the bare minimum, Vox is doing nothing to stop Valentino from abusing Angel or any of his other employees. Having Vox be a victim of the same abuse that Angel Dust suffers (at the hands of the same abuser no less) and yet also being someone who enables Angel's abuse creates a very complicated situation.

In a most media, the discovery of a mean/bad person being abused is frequently portrayed in a "well, they were abused so you can't be mad at them anymore" kind of light. Like "see? They're just an asshole because they were being abused! Now that we know, they're suddenly a good person!" Except that's not how it works. Someone can be a bad person and also be a victim. And even if them being an asshole was the result of their abuse, those behaviors and the consequences of those behaviors don't just vanish. They still hurt people and frankly I would riot if it came out that Vox was being abused by Valentino and then everyone in the show just up and forgave him for being an asshole. Like...no? He would still need to make up for his own shit and actually work towards being a better person. I like this character because he's an unapologetic asshole. If making him a victim takes that away, then that would be such a missed opportunity.

In fact, one thing I find interesting is that I definitely believe that Vox would have no problem admitting to being a bad person, but would rather fight an exorcist alone than admit to being a victim. His ego won't allow for it. He would probably laugh in your face and call you delusional while literally having a broken screen. Because he can't admit it, even to himself. He would see it as a sign of weakness and that's not acceptable to him (side note that being a victim does not make you weak, that's just what Vox's toxic mindset tells him). While I am fairly certain that he would have moved on from most 1950s mindsets since he is all about the future and progress and moving forward, toxic masculinity is still very much a thing today and I can definitely see him embodying it in some aspects, like needing to appear strong and in control at all times (and Hell's power hierarchy definitely encourages this mindset, so...). Fuck, even now in fucking 2024, men still have a hard time being taken seriously as the victims of abuse. Unless of course you fit a certain mold.

Angel Dust is the perfect example of this. He is a palatable male victim. He's effeminate, he's funny, he's friendly, he's caring, and we actively see him miserable in his suffering. Despite being in Hell just like the rest of them and having been a former mafia member and clearly able to stand on his own two feet it combat, his victimhood is constantly on display and the audience wants to protect and save him. On the opposite end, Vox is shown in a position of power that is constantly reinforced. He's an Overlord, he's manipulative, he's cruel, he's greedy, and he enables abusive behavior from others. He is not a palatable victim, which is why it's perfect.

Now let's get into what I believe is the actual evidence that this dynamic could still be present.

Something I see people commonly say is that Vox being abused by Valentino doesn't make sense because why wouldn't Vox just fight back? He could just shock Valentino into next Tuesday? And to these people I kindly say fuck you. Because while physical strength can be a factor in abuse, it is very rarely the thing that keeps the victim from leaving. Abuse, even when physical, is heavily psychological. It's like telling a victim "well, why didn't you just leave?" It's not that easy. Abusers tend to target those with low self-esteem and it's made pretty clear that Vox is a very insecure person (I feel the need to point out that having an ego and having high self-esteem are not the same thing, in fact having a big ego is typically a side effect of very low self-esteem). It's entirely possible that Vox makes the conscious decision not to fight back because he's afraid of what will happen if he does. He's afraid Valentino will leave. We know Valentino is just as mentally and emotionally abusive to those around him as he is physically abusive and we have actively witnessed him playing into Vox's insecurities and mentally messing with him (specifically in the events leading up to "Stayed Gone").

So let's talk about the scene leading up to "Stayed Gone," because I also see Vox's behavior towards Valentino here used as justification for why it's not possible for Valentino to be abusing Vox. Full disclosure, I myself in the past have even thought that it demonstrated them being mutually abusive towards each other, but have since changed my opinion after reading more takes and doing further analysis. Having rewatched this scene many times now, I have some observations.

There's a small moment that always caught my attention when I watched this scene because I wasn't sure what it meant, but looking at it in the context of this post, I think I can see a possibility. When Vox goes to see Valentino, he approaches the doors and they are opened for him by Valentino's servants. Vox pauses in the doorway, glances at them, then continues on inside.

What was the point of this moment? It seems out of place. Surely Vox has gone to Valentino's room before? Surely this door opening thing isn't new? And looking at Vox's face here, he looks...concerned? Like...they might hear what goes on inside? And he maintains that expression even as he enters the room, like he doesn't like that those two are out there and might hear them.

It also makes the entire situation feel so routine. Like Valentino is upset and these girls just expect Vox to show up and take care of it. And the scenes prior to this also sets it up as a normal occurrence. Vox rearranges his entire schedule to deal with Valentino, like he absolutely expects this situation could take up the rest of his day. And Valentino clearly doesn't listen to Velvette in this regard as she had to call Vox to come deal with Valentino despite him wrecking her department. Her comment even further establishes this as normal when she tells Vox that Valentino is "up in his tower, waiting for a flat-faced prince to calm him down." And when Vox arrives? "FUCKING FINALLY!" All of this sets up a standard situation: when Valentino is upset, it is Vox's job to calm him down and make him feel better. Valentino is a full grown adult and yet he has made it someone else's problem to manage his emotions.

Then of course we have the classic moment of Valentino literally throwing his glass at Vox only seconds after Vox has arrived. And this has to have been a conscious decision, because right before that, he throws his first glass on the ground before demanding another. So if he wanted to just break something, he didn't need to throw it at Vox, but he did. And I definitely don't think he cared if Vox got out of the way or not. But how easily Vox moves aside tells us that he fully expected to have things thrown at him and was ready for it. Now, I do believe that Valentino would throw shit at literally anyone when he is mad, but the key here is that Vox, his supposed friend, on-and-off lover, and business partner, is not exempt from this behavior. He even breaks Vox's phone when he realizes Vox is not paying attention to him. He has no qualms breaking Vox's property just to soothe his rage (I would also like to point out that he fucking obliterated that thing; just how hard did he fucking throw it?!).

Something in this scene that did initially throw me as I was writing this is that Vox doesn't seem particularly afraid of Valentino. Not the way we see Angel is when Valentino gets angry. We also see him actively get angry with Valentino, get in his face, and manipulate him. In the past, I believed this behavior from Vox to have established their relationship as mutually abusive. However, after reading yet another post from @deeply-unserious-fellow, I realized that everything Vox does here is only in direct response to Valentino's tantrum.

So let's go through some things here. When Vox initially tries to tell Valentino he can't go to the hotel, Valentino straight up ignores him. Does not respond to Vox's words, completely carries on like he didn't even speak. From this point on, Vox takes an entirely different approach to the situation. He manipulates Valentino into thinking that not shooting up the hotel is his idea and even offers further appeasement in the form of shooting his own employees as a method to satisfy Valentino's temper. I admit to initially viewing this as Vox being abusive, but frankly, when your options are being manipulative or letting your business partner go shoot up a hotel that houses the literal Princess of Hell, yeah, I'd take the manipulation route. Because, as I pointed out above, Vox cannot actually control Valentino. He tries to give him an order and is completely ignored. And even when he does successfully manipulate him, he still has to appease him in some capacity.

Now, there's also something here that is often played for shits and giggles, but I'm taking it 100% seriously right now. Many people point out that Vox's screen gets brighter when he gets in Valentino's face. Valentino is a moth demon and after Vox does this, he seems to be dazed for a moment, enough for Vox to rapidly switch back into manipulator mode and does his thing. It seems to have snapped Valentino out of his rage and I literally can't help but think that Vox has learned this as a defense mechanism. Valentino can't see very well, so it's very likely Vox's hypnotism doesn't work on him, so Vox had to find other ways of manipulating him and calming him down when he's in one of his rages.

Something I also want to point out is that it is made very clear through a single solitary moment that Valentino is in no way afraid of Vox. When he tells Vox about Alastor, Vox screams in his face, manhandles him, and Valentino just...pushes him off and saunters away, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. He doesn't even look upset or concerned when Vox grabs him. He just...laughs it off...like he knows Vox won't actually hurt him. Because I genuinely think Vox won't. Later in the episode, we hear Valentino's voicemails to Angel Dust and how he's emotionally manipulating him, telling him he can't really get better. I wouldn't be surprised to find that he's given Vox a similar treatment, especially considering that it's obvious Valentino knew what kind of reaction he would get out of Vox by bringing up Alastor. And sure, he brushes it off with a kink joke, but in all seriousness, why did Valentino keep Alastor's return from Vox? We know Angel has been at the hotel for a little while and Alastor has been involved with it as of a week prior to the beginning of season 1, so why suddenly bring it up? It's almost like he was specifically holding onto this information, waiting for the perfect time to use it that would be the most beneficial to him.

There's also another little scene that always caught my attention. It's when Valentino is getting pissed about the shadow construct that Angel Dust is flirting with.

Valentino starts getting pissy again, demands Vox's attention, gets annoyed when he doesn't get it, then immediately switches to mocking and confident when Vox starts bitching about Alastor. Like...he's so fucking proud of himself for getting Vox all worked up over Alastor. Like it's some kind of game for him. Riling Vox up and messing with his emotions is fun for Valentino. Alastor dredges up some real shit for Vox and Valentino exploits it. And from here on, he just keeps egging him on. Now, I'm pretty sure "Stayed Gone" would have happened with or without Valentino, but the point here is that he is definitely playing with Vox's emotions here.

As for the not being afraid aspect, again, Valentino hasn't actually threatened him with something that truly scares him. I don't think he's afraid of what Valentino could physically do to him. It's more likely to make him mad than anything else, even if he doesn't fight back (he'll probably go take out his anger on someone else). The thing about Vox is that we see that he does not like to appear weak in any capacity and I think this extends well into his own psyche. If he admits, even to himself, that he's a victim...to him, that's admitting weakness and he just can't do that. So Valentino's not abusing him, they just had a fight. He didn't hit back because he's in control of himself and he knows he could totally toast Valentino. It's Vox's own fault for pushing his buttons when he knew Valentino was mad. It wasn't rape cause he never said "no".

TLDR: Vox can be both an asshole and an abuse victim and it would be a really interesting aspect to his character as long as the show does it right and doesn't scrap his assholeness to make him a more palatable victim. Show him being a victim and also victimizing others. Show him not wanting to accept that he has been abused. LET PEOPLE BE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH FEELING SORRY FOR HIM.

(that's all for now, I have literally been working on this post for days and I'm exhausted)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #alice rambles #hazbin valentino #staticmoth #hazbin angel dust

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flippinpancakes64 · 6 months ago

Note

could you write the cullen's being jealous??

The Cullens being Jealous

Thank you so much for requesting and I hope you enjoy this!

Also I mentioned it in my last post but I know not everybody would have seen it because I didn't put as many tags, so I'll say it again.

My requests are open!!!!! Please request, I'm bored :(

Edward:

I feel like he would get jealous pretty easy

Like he can hear everybody's thoughts

He already knows if someone starts expressing interest in you before they can even do anything

But the most he would do in that scenario is maybe keep you a little farther away from that person

You know like moving your seat in class so you're closer to him and farther from them

Walking different ways to class to avoid them

Stuff like that

He wouldn't say anything to you or to them

Now if they act on it?

Completely different story

No matter your gender, physical appearance, race, literally anything, the second you guys start dating everyone knows it

So for someone to know that you guys are dating and still try something?

He is seeing red

It doesn't matter what the other person did

A flirty note, asking you on a date, literally touching your fingers while they hand you something

All of it's the same to Edward

If it wasn't your fault or you weren't reciprocal, it's very likely that you wouldn't even know anything happened

To you, Edward just stepped away for a moment at lunch

But in reality he cornered the poor, stupid person and not-so-nicely told them to never even look at you again or they were gonna be dead

But if he sees something that you did as meaning that you were into it?

The same thing happens to the other person

And he sits down to have a talk with you

Maybe he only heard about what happened and didn't get to read your mind as it was happening

Or maybe he can't read your mind for some reason

Just explain to him that he's the only one for you

And let him read your mind if he can to let him know that you mean it

Overall he's very protective and pretty prone to jealousy

Alice:

I don't really see her as the jealous type

She has that mentality of "they come home with me every night so it doesn't matter what other people do"

Like she's got you already

And she doesn't ever see you cheating

So she's not worried

The only time that she would get jealous is if you show a liking to human nature

AKA anything that she can't give you

If you mention something about someone's hand being so warm or mention having a sleepover with someone she gets a bit jealous

The sad type

It just reminds her that she can't be everything for you

If you're a human it's even worse

She knows that she's cold

She knows she can't sleep

She knows that she'll never be able to enjoy your favorite foods with you

It just hurts to be reminded of it

But she's also not the type to stew in it

She will tell you straight-up if something is bothering her

She won't ask you to never make comments like that ever again

Obviously that's not really something that can be controlled

But she just wants you to know why she's a little more down than usual today

"Oh nothing, I was just reminded that I'm not human"

Please give her so many kisses and tell you that you love her no matter what

Jasper:

I can already tell I'm gonna get carried away

Jasper in my mind 🤝 angst

He gets so jealous

But again it's the sad kind

He's not perfect

He's not human

And he's not good for you

The fact that you agreed to date him at all is still a wonder to him

So he's very sensitive to seeing you with other people at all

He knows that you have friends obviously and that you can't be with him 24/7

But when he sees you and your lab partner laughing and making jokes, when he sees one of your oldest friends leaning way too close, when he finds a note shoved in between your papers, it gets to be too much

It just reminds him of how many better options there are for you

He wouldn't say anything to the person making moves on you

He knows that it would definitely end up in a police report and the Cullens needing to move again

But I feel like he would take some time to talk to you

He would take a while to psych himself up though

Maybe a few practice convos with Alice

And a threat from Rosalie that she is going to take matters into her own hands if he doesn't say anything

He would be very open about what's bothering him

He doesn't like keeping secrets from you

So he would tell you about how he felt seeing the way someone acted with you

The type of emotions they were feeling

And how it was bothering him

He would accept all of your explanations that the person was just a friend, or that you don't feel that way

But I feel like what he would really need is some intense reassurance that you do want to be dating him

And that you love him

Aww so sweet

Rosalie:

Yeah she doesn't get jealous

She's a bad bitch

She's hot

And she knows that you love her

It doesn't matter if some nobody from your highschool starts hitting on you

Because there's no way they have a chance with you

And she knows that

Because guaranteed you are a bad bitch too

The only time that really any reaction would come from her is if somebody physically hits on you and makes you uncomfortable

And it's not jealousy it is full protective rage

Like how dare someone touch her SO and think they can get away with it

A note or two, maybe some longing glances she can get past

But harassing for a date, pressuring you for your number, or even making physical advancements that you are not okay with?

Yeah suddenly they wake up the next day with a broken arm

And she goes full exposé

If they sent you any nudes they are getting leaked to the school

She doesn't play around like that

Fuck around and find out

But she will never be jealous of some losers trying to take what's not theirs

Emmett:

He's also not really one to get jealous

In fact he kinda likes the opportunities

Like if some guy is hitting on you he LOVES being able to sneak up and go

"Babe is this guy bothering you?"

And then the dude just turns around and sees this 6 foot something 300 pounds of pure muscle dude standing there

He loves it

He does get a bit annoyed though

Like if there's one person that keeps sending you notes, asking you on dates, trying to sit next to you in class, he gets frustrated

He offers to beat them up

To get them to leave you alone of course not because it's annoying him

Even if you say not to he's still gonna do it

He's like a 50's gangster waiting in an alleyway for the person to show up

He doesn't physically beat them up

Yet

If the person persists after his "stern talk" their ass gets jumped

And he will always deny it if you ask him

Oh well :)

Esme:

I feel like she might be a bit insecure about being one of the "normal" ones

She doesn't have any special powers

And she didn't have any particularly strong characteristics that manifested themselves when she turned

In her mind she's just a little "blah"

So I feel like she would get jealous easy

But it wouldn't have an opportunity to present itself as much

She wouldn't get jealous over most humans

And since she spends most of her time in the house, she doesn't even get to see you out and about interacting with people all that often

So I feel like the moments in which her jealousy makes itself known would be when other vampires are in the area

Especially if they're vegetarians

And ESPECIALLY if they're gifted

It was her actual waking nightmare when all of the vampires were collected to protect Renesmee

(Not that she really had time to be worrying about that but yk)

The only other time I could see her getting jealous would be if you two were out and about together and someone started hitting on you

And even then she would only tell you about it after the person left

"I can't believe they were flirting with you while I am literally right here" "...are you jealous?" "...no..."

Carlisle:

This is a man who is secure in his relationship

He trusts you completely because he knows that you trust him completely

SO many people flirt with him at the clinic (I don't blame them I would too tbh) (actually no I wouldn't I'm too scared to do that)

He knows that people find him attractive

And he knows that people find you attractive because how could they not

But he has full faith in you

And he is very transparent

He tells you all of his stories from the day when he comes home from work

"This woman came in today with a broken foot, like completely turned around, bone showing and everything. And she still looked at me and asked for my number! And then she passed out..."

He thinks it's funny

Because he would never, not in a million years, even CONSIDER cheating

The only thing would be if you're describing an interaction you had and you don't sound completely put-off by it or if he finds that you kept a note someone gave you that was very clearly flirtatious

He, once again, does not let it stew, though

He directly asks about it

Prying into the details of how you feel about this person and why you talked the way you did/kept the note they gave

I can't imagine anyone cheating on him tho so just tell him the truth that you didn't mean it that way or just forgot to throw the note away

He still fully trusts you tho

Vampire! Bella:

She sort of has the same problem as Esme

In her mind she still thinks of herself as the boring, plain-looking girl who just blended in

She doesn't consider herself to be anything special

So when she sees you talking to someone else, maybe laughing a bit too hard at someone's joke, or even hanging out with someone, she gets super jealous

I am sad to say though that she does immediately jump to conclusions

She gets sad for a bit but then immediately she flies into accusations

Asking you what you were doing with that person, if you want to break up with her, if she's not good enough, if you already cheated on her

It gets a bit exhausting after a while

I feel like this would be a genuine problem

Once she met Edward, she basically left all of her friends

So she has a little bit of a skewed idea of what a relationship is supposed to be like

I mean you can't entirely blame her

Her only other experience with a relationship was complete obsession

So she thinks your relationship should be the same

You just need to tell her that

That most normal people in relationships do actually have friends

She'll get it at some point... maybe

277 notes · View notes

cheralith · 10 months ago

Text

to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader (part iii) 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, implied fem bodied!reader, use of she/her pronouns, reader wears dresses and makeup, mild violence mention

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, angst, angst with some comfort, unedited/not beta read as of 2/24

word count ; 8.5k

notes ; we're so back. am i severely late to posting this? very. did i at least get it done after too many months? also yes. i also apologize in advance to those i tagged that are no longer interested in the series, as i merely tagged people that had commented regardless of time. lmk if you no longer want to be tagged in the last part, i promise i won't take offense at all!

parts ; one two three four (tba)

THREE YEARS AGO

“My name is (Y/N) (L/N), it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. O’Hara. Please let me assist you at any need possible.”

Miguel peered at you through his reading glasses, averting his attention from his laptop to fully examine the stranger that stood in his office. Dark hazelnut eyes scan the appearance of a young woman dressed in black slacks and an ironed white blouse standing stiffly next to his superiors that eyed him with more eagerness than he liked. He could already tell that you were a shy one, a person that wasn’t too accustomed to the outside world and its people; you stood with stiff posture; it was one that exemplified nerve rather than confidence from the way that you almost seem paralyzed in your place.

Caldworth, one of the superiors that stood by your side, placed a wrinkly and veiny hand on your shoulder and showed you off to him as if you were a painting up for bidding. “We choose a sharp one for you. (Y/N) here is rather attentive, so don’t be shy about letting her get to know you better, Miguel.”

Miguel stayed quiet, still skeptical about this sudden new arrangement for him that was brought up at the last minute. He lacked a certain sort of anticipation that would usually behold anyone else in his position—a new person entering their work life would usually be an exciting, rousing meeting seeing as how it would be a new addition to what the higher-ups would refer to as “family.” A loose term, Miguel often thought… very loose, even. To even have the courage to compare coworkers to something as intimate as family was something that didn’t sit well with Miguel. Blame it on the certain circumstances on his own familial life, but even anyone else that had their brain in the somewhat of the right spot would understand that mere coworkers were nothing compared to family.

At least in his case.

“I’ve greatly admired your work in the past,” you said almost robotically, “so I hope I can be of any help in your future accomplishments—no matter how big or small.”

Miguel cocked his head. He fought the urge to raise an eyebrow at what he began to concur was something scripted via his superiors. Something about your tone of voice seemed… flat; devoid of any actual enthusiasm.

Caldworth and his partner began to see themselves out, leaving him to babysit you. “Well, you two have at it! Maybe go out for a cup of coffee to familiarize yourselves, get to know each other better since you both are essentially going to be around each other all the time,” Caldworth stated, making Miguel twitch from the last part.

Just before they left, Caldworth offered the glint of his eye over his shoulder, the peek of a tight-lipped grin ever so slightly visible.

“And don’t forget, we’re all family here!” he cheered before the slam of a door shut you and Miguel in.

Immediately, Miugel noticed that your shoulders caved inward, indicating that you were finally able to breathe properly without the surveillance of people that were essentially in charge of your life. He eyed you again from the top of his glasses before he took them off and rested them in between his fingers, letting them dangle lazily.

“Did they tell you to say that?”

You jolted in your spot. Nerves seemingly reshocked with the same anxiety from before, you turned yourself to face your new boss again with a much more paled, yet evident expression—wide-eyed, pursed-lipped, gritted jaw—and swallowed thickly. Almost in a shameful manner, you silently nodded your head.

“W-was…” you started, “was it that obvious?”

“Somewhat,” Miguel murmured simply and closed his laptop. “Don’t listen to what they say, just make yourself as comfortable as possible. I’m sure neither of us want to be that comfortable with each other.”

Your lips pressed themselves into a tight line, hitching a sharp breath before it’s replaced with another stiff nod. There was no user’s manual of sorts that was given to you by your superiors. They merely told you to do exactly what Miguel needed, so if this is what he wanted—for you two to maintain distance—then so be it. If anything, it’s easier to breathe this way for both parties.

And it was like that for a rather long time; the both of you never came too close to the other person. It was strictly a professional workplace relationship, one that didn’t issue any room for intimacy because it wasn’t needed. There were no lunch or dinner get-togethers outside work hours, there was barely any small talk between you both, and you and he didn’t even bother getting each others’ personal numbers despite being consistently around the other like air—both parties thought the work phones were more than enough. There was no need for you to learn about his likes, his dislikes, his favorite foods, and Miguel couldn’t certainly be bothered with your own slices of life. To each their own, if you minded your business about him, he’d do the same to you.

It was a fair trade and a sufficient barter that satisfied you and him; there need not be any excess of the unnecessary.

That was, until a certain day that Miguel was held back during his usual hours to continue working on lab reports—work that didn’t allow him freedom from this hell of a company to see his own salvation.

“If it’s an urgent matter, Mr. O’Hara, I don’t mind taking on some of the workload,” you had said softly as you placed the last stack of packets on his desk that needed proper annotation. “I’m your assistant, after all. It’s my job to help you out.”

Miguel rubbed his forehead out of exhaustion and shook his head, “You’re my assistant from 9 to 5 only. I’m not gonna be like those shocking pricks and work you longer than needed,” he muttered and stretched out his neck, joints crackling. “Go clock out, (Y/N). I’m sure there’s someone waiting for you at home that needs attending to.”

Suddenly, the atmosphere had gone awkwardly quiet. The tension was only broken by the scritching of your shuffling feet before you coughed.

“Um, there’s no one in particular like that for me, unfortunately,” you whispered through a forced laugh that quickly dissolved. “So again, I don’t mind staying late…”

Miguel stiffened in his seat and mumbled an apology for his blatant inconsideration. Right… you were still rather young and didn’t seem the type to have a family yet. “No boyfriend? Or girlfriend… I’m not one to judge.”

“No, Mr. O’Hara.”

“No parents?”

“I moved out, so no.”

“Not even pets?”

“None.”

“... perhaps friends of sorts?”

“...”

Another sigh heaves itself from his aching lungs. What he’d do for a cigarette right now to kill this awkward tension. You were a rather shy person that isolated herself from most people, but Miguel didn’t think you’d detach yourself this much from the crowd.

You proposed your assistance once more, as third times always a charm. “Please let me assist you, Mr. O’Hara. I truly do not mind staying overtime if needed.”

Miguel, at first, thought you might be kissing his ass for a possible raise, but the thought quickly disappears when you genuinely appear concerned for his well-being given the fact he looked ultimately much more disgruntled than usual. Despite your timidity, you could be a stubborn one, so Miguel gave in before he tired himself even more with mild arguments that he was sure would drain whatever life he had left in him.

He inhales sharply and fiddles with his bag for a bit before he pulls out an array of keys, gently detaching a pair of them. One of them is his car key. The other—his house key.

“Take these,” he said and gestured them to you. “I’ve trusted you enough to drive my car on multiple occasions, so now I’m entrusting you to my daughter.”

Your eyes widened briefly, brows raising to new heights. Blinking in the alikeness of an owl, you repeated, “Your… your daughter?”

Miguel supposes this is what succumbs to him after not revealing even the most personal, yet basic parts of himself to a coworker. He hasn’t even revealed his birthday to you, let alone his family, so he can’t say he’s too surprised at your reaction.

“Yes, my daughter,” he repeats and starts scribbling on a post-it. “Her name is Gabriella, she just turned five and is in kindergarten. I’m gonna call up the daycare and tell them that you’ll be picking her up from school. After that, drop her off at the house and just… just kind of stay there until I come home. There should be leftovers in the fridge if she gets hungry. I’ll take a cab home… I dunno.”

Miguel sticks out the post-it note containing both the address of the daycare and his apartment number. With caution, you take and examine them closely with a mild surprise still on your face of the new information about your boss that you thought you should’ve learned a while ago. You begin to see yourself out of his office with an evident nervousness in your being before Miguel spontaneously gets up and grabs your wrist tightly, forcing you to look at him.

A chill goes down your spine when you see a menacing and unusual red glint in those pools of mahogany. His once-drained face is suddenly stony and rugged with his teeth bitten back to avoid any unnecessary threats. The physical contact makes your nerves go cold and paralyzes you into place to force you to stare into those eyes that you’re not sure aren’t even human, a sort of malicious crimson tint gleaming over brown hues.

“Do not… let anything happen to her,” he hisses under his breath, his tone jaggedly sharp, “Not a single scratch, yes?”

It takes a while for air to breathe itself back into your lungs, yet only a partial amount of it revives your body because all you can reply is a choked out,

“Yes.”

Miguel lets go of your wrist like it’s a heated iron rod, the burn of it stinging his hand with the aftertaste of your skin still damped on his palm. You quickly leave after that, leaving him to sigh and stare into nothing before clutching the picture frame of his daughter that sits on his desk—praying that you’ll live up to his expectations and arrive home to an unscathed Gabriella.

And throughout the duration of the three years you and Miguel have spent side by side, with each repeated question he’d contritely ask again and again, he did each and every single time you had to take care of her. The hours became longer, more strenuous, and created a blockage between Miguel and Gabriella that only you were able to bridge between. Gabriella—whose particular shyness reminded Miguel of a certain someone—eventually warmed up to you and began to treat you much more familiarly as time passed, growing accustomed to wrapping her body around your legs when she saw you during pick up and always asking what was for dinner that evening as if you’ve been there since her birth.

Gabriella grew very fond of you, Miguel noticed. There was some sort of mimicry in her actions at times that mirrored your own habits like how she’d tilt her head and purse her lips to the left when she was confused like you did or she’d randomly walk briskly in the same fashion you marched. She’d slip in a mention of your name during small discussions here and there, a praise never failing to tail her words.

“Miss. (Y/N) bought this headband for me! Isn’t it pretty?”

“Oh, Miss. (Y/N) taught me how to solve that problem yesterday.”

“Can you make cookies like how Miss. (Y/N) does? Yours taste weird.”

While you weren’t always present around the O’Haras, Gabriella made sure it seemed like you were.

There was a particular time that Miguel was helping her on some homework assigned over the weekend. The assignment had discussed different careers that children might be interested in the future and when Miguel had asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up, Gabriella, who couldn’t have been more than six or seven around the time, replied all too simply,

“I want to be like Miss. (Y/N).”

Miguel was astonished. He had expected an answer like a professional soccer player due to her love of the sport or a scientist like her father, but to aspire to be someone that seemingly was just an occasional companion? To him, it didn’t make sense.

“Like, do you wanna work for Daddy when you’re older?” Miguel asked, attempting to clarify what she meant since she knew enough to understand you were associated with her father.

Gabriella shook her head and mindlessly continued to draw what seemed to be a portrait of you in… a pink dress? “Nuh uh. I wanna be a princess like her.”

Through furrowed brows, Miguel chuckled a little aimlessly. Of course she’d still believe fantasy and magical things—she was just seven after all. Initially, he wanted to merely correct his daughter, but was a little curious as to what sort of silly information you had been feeding her. “Miss. (Y/N) is a princess?”

“Yep, she told me herself!” Gabriella exclaimed, her hand fisting a yellow marker that scribbled on a crown on the drawing. “She said she used to be a princess, but she ran away ‘cause a giant, fire-breathing lizard tried to kidnap her!”

“I think it might’ve been a dragon, mijita,” Miguel corrected gently, trying to go along with the usual trope fairy tales portrayed.

“Nuh uh, it was a big and creepy lizard, she said!” she retaliated stubbornly.

“Well,” he started again, attempting to choose his words a little more carefully this time around. “How come you don’t wanna be like Ariel? Or Tiana? They’re princesses, too, right?”

She shrugged. “I like them. But they’re not Miss. (Y/N).”

Something unnatural began to seep into Miguel’s chest. He knew that Gabriella liked you quite so, but he didn’t expect for her to almost admire you in such a fashion that inspired her to be like you. In his eyes, you were nothing but the assistant that loyally stood by his side and abided by his every word—to him, it seemed like you were more of a butler or servant than a princess.

But in his daughter’s eyes…

“Why? What’s so special about (Y/N)?” Miguel inquired with a growing curiosity to try and see you in the same light as Gabriella.

She shook her head, displeased with the informality given to you by her father. “You gotta say Princess (Y/N). I don’t have to ‘cause she said it’s okay.”

He sighed, “Okay, fine. What’s so special about Princess (Y/N)?”

Gabriella set her marker down carefully and thought for a little while. Her eyes suddenly lit up with delight, an affirmative grin set on her lips.

“Well, she’s really pretty… like reallyyy pretty. I wanna be just as beautiful as her one day,” she praised, making Miguel’s brows rise at the sudden compliment. “She’s really nice, too. She never shouts at me like the teachers or coaches do… and she always lets me have extra dessert when I do a good job on my homework.”

Miguel fell silent. Perhaps it was more than mere admiration, but idolization for Gabriella. She viewed you in a way that Miguel hadn’t even thought of because he only viewed you as his coworker. But in Gabriella’s eyes, you were more than just her babysitter—you were literal royalty to her. He shouldn’t be one to complain though—he’d take his daughter following in your footsteps over some others that might lead her astray. You were… sufficient enough, he supposes, even if Gabriella didn’t think so.

“She’s super smart too—like you, Papá! Maybe even smarter,” she retorts, making Miguel twitch. “And I like her voice a lot. I really like it when she reads me a story because her voice is pretty. Sometimes she sings this song to me to help me sleep.”

“Oh?” Miguel questioned, “¿Y, qué canción es esa?”

“I keep forgetting the name and words of it…” Gabriella pouted after a moment of attempted concentration. “But it went somethin’ like…”

She began humming an off-tune melody that struck a dissonant, yet familiar chord within Miguel, but it was impossible for him to find why it was so eerily familiar to him. Was it perhaps from an old song? Or a film he’d seen before? It was a calming song, one that was perfectly suited for a child’s lullaby, but something about it seemed almost so customary to him.

“Ya gotta marry her,” his daughter said plainly and began to resume her artistry, ignoring the sudden startle she gave her father. “So that way, I can become a princess, too.”

Miguel helped himself to the nearby cup of water to soothe his choked throat after the scare she gave him. “Sweetheart, I’m not a prince, though.”

“Yeah, I know,” his daughter replied without missing a beat. “But you know what you are, though?”

Dare he say that Gabriella had grown akin to you the same way she had with her father. Something about her praise and regard for you seemed to mirror the way that reflected alike to her father, yet Miguel couldn’t tell if she had managed to draw a line between the images of you and him. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if Gabriella could even define a difference in her adulation between you and him besides the fact one was her parent.

But when the thought of Gabriella potentially viewing you as sharing the same title as him—a parent—something seeds inside Miguel. He doesn’t know what it is or what it will grow into, but there’s one thing he knows for sure.

The seed of you in his life and hers is here to stay, whether he likes it or not.

Gabriella’s smile grew wide before she happily announced,

“You’re her knight in shining armor!"

PRESENT

If he squinted properly and took a closer look, perhaps Miguel could make himself hallucinate enough to try and visualize the golden chandelier above your head as your haloing tiara. It was the main light source nearly the entirety of the venue, but something about the way the light glistened around you made you seem almost holy, like you were a divinity gracing your presence on the wretchedness they called Earth.

Blame it on the wine, but Miguel couldn’t help but notice that you looked more celestial tonight; a unique sort of ethereal that he’s only seen in the finest of paintings. The banquet hall is covered in layers of silkened gold, only emphasizing your best features in the spotlights of reflecting amber.

You’re talking idly (per usual, unfortunately) with a coworker from Human Resources that he’s seen you often have mild conversations with on the weekly, a rare familiarity that he only knows he’s been graced with in full; so it’s truly no surprise that there’s a placid stir of envy growing within Miguel as you’ve decided to not give your semi-cold shoulder a break even tonight, even with the rarity of a compliment given by him. At least there’s been somewhat of an improvement—you’re actually holding miniscule conversations with him every now and then as you both chatter with the crowd as long as there’s a third party.

Yet he still hasn’t been granted mercy of having a proper one-on-one with you, yet.

But beggars can’t be choosers, so Miguel must make do with what he’s offered.

The coworker, finally, is called by one of his project managers and politely excuses himself, leaving you to Miguel’s devices at long last. Like a flower’s petals given little to no care, your smiling face wilts into the solemn countenance that Miguel has grown accustomed to seeing for the past week when you turn your gaze back towards the table, a sliver of Miguel caught in the corner of your eye. In time, he just barely catches a glimpse of your eyes flickering toward his figure before they return to stare at the nearly empty plate of food with a slight dismal.

A choice of what words to say jumble in his mouth. They toss and jump about while not giving him full comprehension of what they mean and Miguel grows frustrated at his lack of intelligibleness because it wasn’t every day that his resolve could be so cowardly in front of someone. Usually he was the one that made egos shrink, but upon your grace, his own could only grow so small.

You can tell there’s an awkward silence amongst you both despite the audible chatter throughout the banquet hall and the idle conversations among your tablemates, so you break it first but stiffly shuffling out your phone and dialing Gabriella’s babysitter for tonight—a blue moon occasion since neither you nor Miguel could be present. Gabriel is out of town and because there were only so many people in the world that Miguel could trust with his beloved, the elderly next-door-neighbor was the last resort.

“I should probably check up on how Mrs. Darcie is doing,” you splutter with a dry mouth. “I forgot to teach her how the TV remote works and I’m sure she must be bored out of her—”

Unconsciously, Miguel gently pries the phone out of your shaking hands, the connection between skin and skin electrifying his nerves more than he liked. He takes notice of the size difference between your hand and his own and eyes carefully at how easily your fingers would be able to slip into the gaps of his all too easily; like two connecting puzzle pieces.

He places it face down on the table to avoid further distractions. “I’m sure Mrs. Darcie is alright,” he attempts to soothe as he places his hand over your own, nearly caging it between his fingers. Miguel struggles with fighting the urge to squeeze it delicately—he doesn’t know if he’s earned that privilege, or if he ever did. “Gabi is most likely preparing for bed, we shouldn’t distract her.”

Eyes flickering toward your covered hand, the warmth that envelopes it from Miguel’s makes you swallow thickly.

“Ah,” you murmur and timidly pull back your hand to place back on your lap to Miguel’s disappointment. “Right… Never mind then.”

And suddenly, he’s back to square one. Silence plagues the air again between you and him, only this time, it’s thicker and grimier almost. Perhaps it was the oddity that was the physical contact that added to the musk of it; Miguel prays that you didn’t find it uncomfortable.

A fork is plucked between your fingers and you go to idly poke at your food to fidget with something other than your hands. “I hope she’s okay. Gabi, I mean. I-It feels a little odd leaving her with someone other than you.

Rays of hope and enthrallment embellish Miguel’s being from the fact that finally… finally you’re the one attempting a conversation with him after much too long. And not only that, you’re beginning with something bold, even if you don’t realize it. Despite the fact you’re rather unconscious of what you’re saying, something within Miguel perks up at the fact that you’re worried about Gabriella in the same sense… that he is.

That a parent is.

He fights the urge to physically shake his head to brush the thought off. Miguel hums, a semi-sorry attempt at being suede and casual. “Mrs. Darcie has had eight children in her lifetime, I’m sure that she’s definitely had her experience of taking care of kids,” he says seemingly nonchalantly. “Gabi, if anything, is lightwork to her.”

A soft delight pings in his chest again when you reply almost instantaneously, “She is indeed a good girl, very well-behaved.”

“She has her moments,” Miguel snorts, fondly remembering a few of younger Gabriella’s temper tantrums and outbursts of tears.

Something golden, something bright blossoms within him when he hears you let out a soft chuckle at his reply. It’s abrupt, but it’s short and sweet enough that he feels accomplished, enough for him to savor the taste of it. “All children do from time to time. But she’s definitely one of the better apples of the bunch.”

Miguel thinks you’re right; it wasn’t often that parents, new ones especially, were granted with the privilege of having obedient children, so he’s one of the lucky ones. Perhaps Gabriella being a good kid was the universe giving him mercy as a single parent, as society often thinks it takes two to tango when it comes to childcare most of the time.

But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Even if Miguel wasn’t aware of it, some of the responsibility was lifted off his shoulders when you entered the picture, as the duties of nurturing a young child were now in your favor the moment you had signed your work contract. For that, he harbors guilt from time to time when he thinks that you never exactly signed up to be a babysitter, let alone a parent figure to his kin that you were still unaware of.

And then it hits him.

It comes all of a sudden—his senses downpouring from the cloud of his daydreams and thoughts.

It’s not a good realization by far. If anything, it’s the very opposite, one that’s one the other end of the spectrum. It’s a deathly epiphany and one that he doesn’t like to acknowledge but is forced to.

Miguel stares blankly at the tablecloth, eyes droning into the satin folds of it as they mimicked the waves of a crashing ocean. A sort of paleness infects his face, the color of it draining slowly and he goes still when he feels his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

You’re quick to take notice of your boss’s current disposition, growing wary of his wide, blank eyes and gritted jaw, along with his knuckles growing white as they fist his slacks. A shallow breath is echoed from him; you furrow your brows.

“Mr. O’Hara?” you murmur, leaning toward his figure.

Miguel’s mind stirs. If Gabriella views you as a parent-figure, what exactly would you think of it? You’re not much younger than Miguel is, only falling behind a mere four or five years, but you’re still significantly young that you’ve got your whole life ahead of you that you’d need to experience by yourself. The remnants of youth are still planted onto you despite being well-adjusted to the adult world, so to put the responsibility of a child on your shoulders? Miguel feels contrition flood into him.

What if you didn’t even want children?

It’s a fact that you care for Gabriella, but do you harbor the same type of love for her that she has for you? Does she even understand what your role is in her life and that there’s a strict boundary between you and Miguel and Gabriella? He knows he can’t just shackle you onto a weighing responsibility, but when Gabriella is a part of this dilemma, the complication increases tenfold.

Your boss seems to be frozen in time, seeing as how not a muscle in his limbs nor his face were moving, but his eyes were wide open, almost glazed with fear. A feathery hand goes to place itself over his tightened fist before you ask again, “Mr. O’Hara, are you okay?”

The worst case scenario infects Miguel’s thoughts—you standing in the same shadow of his ex, exiting through the same door she had walked through just a few days after his daughter’s birth and breaking his entire being into little pathetic pieces.

This time, however? He wouldn’t be the only one with a shattered heart.

A thick swallow goes down your throat. You gently shake his hand with your own to attempt to break him out of his frigid state, a worry beginning to settle itself in your stomach. “Mr. O’Hara? Can you hear me?” you declare a little louder than the first two times.

Your voice makes him blink and he clears his throat, feeling his cheeks warm at the sudden loss of composure. “Yes, I-I’m fine…” he mutters as he tugs at the tight collar of his dress shirt.

You nod with visible skepticism. Miguel turns away from your gaze to avoid further questioning, since he knows you’ve been at his side long enough to know his behaviors. “Are you sure?”

He nods and stifles a sigh, nodding. The flurry of what had just occurred in his mind lingers almost painfully and it takes him a while to remember where he is and why. Right… the annual celebration gala… with you… to make up for the date that never happened.

His mind is a mess. It’s an incoherent tornado of everything and anything, with images of all kinds flashing throughout his mind—young Gabriella’s drawing of you and her as princesses that she insisted on framing, your face of disappointment that you gave him when he ditched out on the date, a flashback of his ex slamming his old apartment door on him as an infant Gabriella screamed and wailed in her crib, you hugging his daughter after her winning goal, Miguel��s frazzled self as he showed up too late to his daughter’s first Parents Day with a teary-eyed Gabriella, him finding you quietly reading a sleepy Gabi a bedtime story after a long shift at work, you making baked goods in the kitchen with her.. you tucking in her into bed… you suddenly with a suitcase in hand, a sobbing Gabriella in the back as Miguel begged you to stay before you slammed the door behind you and leaving them—

Miguel stands up abruptly, making you jump. The collar and tie around his neck suddenly seem too tight and his throat runs dry. The air grows hotter and his vision starts to blur.

“Mr. O’Hara,” you start as you also stand up, “Is everything alr—”

“I need some air,” Miguel barely chokes out before he leaves the banquet hall without another word. He can just barely hear you ask if there’s anything you could do before he turns a sharp right and leaves the entirety of the building altogether, choosing to remain in the back garden to breathe in fresh oxygen, a relieving chill to the air.

A hand goes to loosen his collar and tie and he can feel himself gain consciousness again. The sky is draped with an ink blue all over, speckles of the night stars scattering all around. The floral smell of many garden flowers fills his senses and Miguel grounds himself properly before he settles himself on a stone bench to balance in his mind.

He attempts to reason with himself.

Clearly, you don’t mind being with children, and obviously you don’t mind being with and taking care of Gabriella. She’s not simply a job to you that you’re forced to work with—you’ve said it yourself. Otherwise, you wouldn’t go to her games nor would you remember to bring her small gifts of her liking. You’ve done things for her out of your own initiative many times. Gabriella is your world, Miguel thinks, as much as your hers.

Now there’s the problem of you being with Miguel, if your feelings haven’t changed all too much. In all honesty, Miguel thinks if he’s with the right person, he’s sure to put in effort into stabilizing and nurturing a proper relationship. He hadn’t had the time to go around and look for love because of work and Gabriella, so serving as this sanctuary that came to him was basically a perfect fit into his life—don’t mind it took him three years to notice it. You’re worth putting that effort in.

Finally… there’s the possible chance that you reject Miguel’s proposal of being Gabriella’s secondary caretaker.

…

Miguel attempts to process it in a more… positive light. One that won’t send him spiraling.

But it’s nearly impossible.

How is it possible to settle a middle ground of happiness, or at the very least… satisfaction, between you and him and Gabriella? How do you imagine a happy ending to a dawning of Gabriella’s happiness? How can Miguel ever face you after asking such a thing?

His vision shakes again, another hurricane of impossible questions begins whirling in mind. The bile in his stomach churns uncomfortably and his hands grow clammy again. His feet feel like they’re sinking in the dirt. Somehow, even at a staggering height compared to most of his colleagues, Miguel feels small once more.

Would he be able to cope with such a—

A loud crash and multiple screams suddenly break Miguel out of his state and he whirls his head to see what was happening inside. The peek of something green slithers inside the massive hole in the glass ceiling indented in the building, and it doesn’t take Miguel long to know what’s happening.

He sprints back inside the building and into the banquet hall, the opposite way where everyone is headed and takes a swift peek inside to what was happening.

A horrifically large green lizard crawls on the floor, letting out an agonizing roar of sorts with its tail swishing about and knocking everything and everyone in its path over. Dr. Curtis Connors, the one foe Miguel had fought a few months ago and had just managed to escape his grasp, had come back for revenge in a newer, more improved, more terrifying form of his initial self-experiment. News of his identity had leaked out immediately the moment that he had defeated the mad doctor, and every work that was researched by him that was deemed irrelevant by Alchemax was unpublished and/or destroyed—that included raiding everything in his personal lab—an urgent executive order made by Tyler Stone himself.

Hungry for revenge for the destruction of his work, Miguel was certain he was back for revenge as back when he was still sane, the amount of research that Dr. Connors had put in was extensive and yielded long years in the making, spanning over nearly three decades of research that was wiped away in the matter of a single day thanks to Alchemax.

Miguel quickly turns a corner, hidden from the public eye, and commands his suit on before quickly re-entering the banquet hall. He swings up towards the domed ceiling and carefully analyzes the area.

There’s still a few people scattering from the room, shrieks echoing from the walls. His eyes go to search for where you are in desperation, praying you’re safe somewhere outside, but a flash of light pink catches the corner of his eye. He nearly snaps his neck when he finds you running in the opposite direction of where most people are headed—towards the garden.

“(Y/N)!” Miguel yells out without thinking and slaps a hand over his mouth. Thankfully, you don’t hear him due to the commotion inside the area as you swim against the current of people. You fight the urge to fall down with every person that bumps into you amidst the chaos before you thankfully make it near the exit.

He lunges down from his spot on the ceiling, lassoing a few people that nearly get crushed under Lizard’s humongous tail and bringing them to safety properly on the way, making his way towards your figure. Rubble from the many columns begin to collapse on themselves; clouds of dust and debris fog the first floor of the hall with the wreckage already trapping some people inside.

A large chunk from the wall creaks and begins to teeter over the south exit, where you’re headed. A certain distraction diverts you from noticing the large cement framework around the exit that’s about to topple on you to Miguel’s horror. In the nick of time, he just barely manages to snatch you by the waist from a thrusted sprint just before the framework collapses with a thunderous boom.

You and Miguel cough from the dust it created. It takes a good second for you to process what your fate might’ve become, and it takes just another second for you to regain your consciousness. A good part of the exit is now blocked, but that doesn’t stop you from taking off your heels and attempting to climb over it.

Miguel barks out and grabs your arm that’s now scathed with slight scratches. “The hell are you doing?!” he exclaims worriedly.

You turn back with a teary and troubled look on your face, much to his shock. Abruptly, you turn back towards the exit and attempt to tug back your arm from his firm grasp. “M-my boss… he’s inside the garden,” you croak miserably out as you try to pull yourself over the fallen column. “I need t-to know if he’s safe…”

Lizard lets out another mighty howl and patters toward the stage, his tail once again swinging haughtily and ignoring anything in its path. Miguel shouts at you to duck and pulls you down along with him. You prop back up and without his arm on yours, you use it to your advantage and grunt yourself forward onto the column.

Miguel wraps a large hand over your ankle and weighs you down from moving any further. “Hey, you need to get out, now. You can’t be here, no one should be,” he urges.

The shake of your head concerns him—right, you’re too stubborn for your own good. “I’ll be fine. P-please, just leave me be.”

“Not when you’re about to get killed,” he declares and juts your ankle more towards him. The motion makes you fall into his chest and Miguel uses one hand to properly secure you to himself, the other launching and swinging a web to the north entrance.

You squirm and fight against him, pleading desperately for him to drop you and leave you alone. A frame of tears threatens to fall from your eyes from frustration and despair when you get put down. Miguel has to physically stop you from running back into the banquet hall once again—you put up a fight though. You thrash against him, clawing and weakly punching at his stronger arms, imploring for him to let you back inside.

“You don’t understand—” you gasp as the remnants of the people inside flood out. Looking over his shoulder, you gaze at the exit solemnly. “Please… I need to know if he’s alright—he h-has a young daughter back at home and if anything happens t-to him—just please let me go!” you wail.

He grabs you by the shoulders forcefully and settles you down, the stream of tears falling from your eyes running his throat dry once again. Miguel has never seen you cry, or even come close to crying. Not when Gabriella forced you to watch what she considered “one of the saddest movies in existence”, not when an entire glass beaker had toppled and its shards pierced your skin, not even when Miguel had first scolded you about your many mistakes on the very first document you turned into him.

Glassy eyes meet concerned, masked ones. Your lip trembled violently, the words all jumbled in your mouth about to spill. “Just let me check if he’s alright,” you just barely whisper.

He bores his gaze into yours as his composure does its best to upkeep him as best as possible. Miguel, from the inside of his mask, bites his lip and sighs. “I promise you, I’ll make sure Miguel gets home safely.”

“What if you don’t?” you accuse with furrowed brows.

“I’ll bring him home safe and sound,” he says firmly. “You said he has a daughter, right? I won’t let her become an orphan. I swear on my life I won’t.”

Your gaze doesn’t falter, even when Miguel attempts to soothe you by chafing the chilled skin of your arms up and down in a calming manner. Unbeknownst to you, you and him share an image of Gabriella in your minds; it brings a sting of ache to your chests.

“How can I trust you?” you ask dryly.

“Because,” he goes to weave a string of webbing through the north entrance and takes you out into the safety of the outside. He settles you on the corner of two intersecting streets that sit nearby the building, with your tears still falling and hands trembling. A hand carefully holds your cheek and wipes away descending tears on your chalky face, Miguel ignoring the squeeze of his heart with each one that puddles on the sidewalk.

“... I’m your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

Spider-Man leaves you on the sidewalk idly with the blurry figures of your co-workers and other people in the company whizzing by you with no concern for anyone else other than themselves. It takes a moment for you to understand what just happened and with whom, suddenly hit with the pang of realization that you had just met the Spider-Man: the well-known vigilante protecting Nueva York from all corners, beloved by the public. Excitement can’t seem to conjure itself within you, however, your gaze still lingering on the building that Miguel was possibly in.

A hesitant step takes you forward back to the building, but your phone vibrates abruptly from a notification from Mrs. Darcie. Word must’ve gotten out so quickly that it reached the O'Hara's neighborhood, as her text was asking if you and Miguel were alright. Your thumbs shake as you try and type up a response to let her know that you were at least alive, but you know that Gabriella wanted you both home.

The least you could do is make sure half of that concern was eased. You were counting on Spider-Man to do the rest.

With an arm reaching out for a taxi, you rush into one and tell the driver to step on the gas, promising to tip extra. You’d be willing to give all the money you had with you if it meant that you could be with Gabriella for tonight.

You’ve underestimated the nightly rush hour this Friday night had brought upon, because there’s a sea of cars that are equally as stuck as you are amidst the road. Tangible fingers go to grip your hair frustratingly, and asking the driver to go any further was basically useless. Each minute you wasted on the same road you had been on for what was nearing twenty minutes made you more anxious by the minute.

“I-isn’t there some sort of shortcut?” you ask the driver hoarsely. “I don’t care what roads you have to take, just please get off this one. I’m begging you. I have a child that’s waiting for me.”

His eyes give you a quick glance in the mirror, and empathy embeds itself in his equally tired eyes. He must be a father himself, you think, as he gives you an affirmative nod and swings off the road onto a much more bumpy and gravelly, but visibly less dense one.

It’s nearly an agonizing hour later off the road—it would’ve most likely reached around two or even three if you stayed on the main road—but you thankfully make it to the O’Hara’s residence. Your body moves on its own, flying out the elevator and speeding down the floor of the apartment. You burst open the door, visible sweat misted on your forehead and an ache to your limbs but all that is ignored when Mrs. Darcie greets you with relief, with a sleeping Gabriella settled soundly on the couch as her favorite TV show buzzes in the background.

She grasps you tightly by the arms. “My goodness, thank heavens you’re alright,” she murmurs quietly. “That must’ve been quite a scare… are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” you gasp out tiredly. “But how is she? Gabi, I mean… d-does she—”

Mrs. Darcie shakes her head. “She fell asleep a while ago, she doesn’t know. I just managed to get informed thanks to my son who works near the building. But where is Miguel?”

Dread floods your face once more, remembering why you left the banquet in the first place. Somehow, however, your phone vibrates and receives a text from the one and only. A loud sigh escapes your lips and you crumple to the floor as the feeling returns to your numb legs as Miguel’s texts ease your worries.

Hey I’m alive and alright. I saw you leave earlier, hope you’re safe. I’m omw home.

You fight the urge to burst into tears from the relief as Mrs. Darcie helps you back up. “I’m assuming that’s him,” she says gently as she encourages you to take off your heels. “What a waste of night and beautiful dress. Shame that blasted giant iguana or something had to ruin it.”

A broken laugh leaves you from her gentle humor. You glance down at the dress that the mysterious Lyla had given you tonight and sigh sadly at the many tears of the tulle and fabric. The dress looked expensive and you planned on wearing it again for formal events, but alas, fate has decided to toy with you.

“That’s alright,” you mutter as you help Mrs. Darcie gather her stuff back up so she can finally leave. “I have plenty of others to use in the meantime.”

The elderly woman leaves you inside their apartment after bidding you a goodnight to tend to Gabriella, who’s still sound asleep and oblivious to what was happening to the world and people around her. That’s a good thing, at least, you think to yourself as you tidy up the living room around her quietly. Ignorance is bliss, sometimes.

She’s still small enough that you’re able to carry her to her room even at her age and it reminds you a lot of when she was younger, when she’d pretend to be asleep so you could carry her yourself to go back to her room. Nowadays, she knows her bedtime and does it by herself, but assuming she had been waiting for you or Miguel to come home, sleep had snuck onto her as she waited and waited.

You put her down gently, hoping not to get any of the leftover debris on your soiled clothes onto her freshly-washed body. The action just barely stirs her awake, her eyes slitting open at the slightest bit. Your blurry figure just barely makes it to her senses and she grins sleepily.

A titter escapes her lips. “You look like a…” Gabriella starts, her words faltering due to a fading consciousness.

“Like a…?” you whisper softly, a hand stroking her hair gently.

“Like a…” you can tell she’s trying to find the words in her very limited vocabulary currently, her brain threatening to shut off at any second now. “Like a princess, I think?”

You raise your brows at her description as Gabriella immediately falls back asleep. You suppose you do look much more dressed up from usual, but your cheeks tingle a hint of warmth at the comparison of literal royalty. You blame it on the drowsiness.

Your own tiredness begins to crawl up your spine as you stay by Gabriella’s side in her darkened bedroom, her quiet breaths soothing you like a lullaby. With heavy eyelids threatening to shut close at any minute, you fight the urge to give into the Sandman, insistent on Miguel’s return.

Miguel…

His name rings aloud in your mind for a moment.

Miguel…

“I promise you, I’ll make sure Miguel gets home safely.”

Spider-Man’s familiar voice suddenly jolts you awake. Your brows crunch together. How on earth did Spider-Man know Miguel’s name when you merely referred to him as your boss? Perhaps he saw Miguel in the garden beforehand? Maybe Miguel had an earlier oncoming with him from before and Spider-Man just knew him from that one incident? Or… he just happens to know the names of all the citizens of Nueva York because… that’s just how Spider-Man is?

Or, was Miguel actually Spid—you shake your head in the same second you think of such a stupid reasoning. That’s impossible…

… you know in your heart that it just is.

Any reason that you attempt to give, you think of it as either obnoxious or just simply impossible. Maybe you did let it slip that your boss’s name was Miguel… that just seems like the most plausible reason. After all, your adrenaline was at an all-time high and you could barely remember what had happened before the takeover, let alone the conversations you had.

Whatever it was, it was going to bring Miguel back home, and that’s what ultimately had mattered in the end. It probably wasn’t even your business to prod around.

At Gabriella’s visible sleeping state, you stand up and start to head towards the bathroom to fix yourself up, but the sound of the master bedroom’s window suddenly shuffling open makes your nerves electrify. Miguel’s bedroom sat just right next to Gabriella’s, and it was also the bedroom that was nearest to the complex’s fire escape, so a break-in at this time of night was highly plausible.

Grabbing one of the displayed metal baseball bats on the wall, you turn off Gabriella’s lights and lock the door behind, ensuring her safety first before yours. You’re careful to tiptoe around the more creaky parts of the floorboards, desperate to make yourself not seen by the intruder as you step closer and closer to Miguel’s bedroom. The door is just barely ajar, and the lights are on. A distinct shuffling, bed springs, and a masculine groan echo from the crack of the doorway and when all is silent from the other side of the door, you make your move and burst in, ready to swing at whoever threatens the O’Hara residence.

The bat is suddenly grabbed from your hands from a familiar neon orange webbing and thrusted to the side of the room, where it thunks against the wall and falls limply. You gasp aloud and with nothing to defend yourself with, you look up with fear in your eyes that suddenly turn to shock from the sight in front of you.

There, standing in the same blue and red vinyl suit you had crossed paths with earlier, without its mask completing the look… and thus, exposing the face of the man you had been waiting for to come back home to you.

a/n ; second to last part to this mini-series and once again, i apologize for this nearly six-month delay, last semester was rough for uni. almost made this into two parts, but i felt like they just belonged together and i quite like the blend of them together.

thanks for the patience for those who stuck around and have waited far too long for this, you deserve this! i'm glad to see you all again <3 thank you endlessly for reading and likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and appreciated (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡

taglist ; @secretlyrexlapis @urbimom @p1nkliquor @julesclues @averagefloydlover @apurpletrashcan @raeisthebae @mvchmp @um-well @nintendh-e @eddieslooneymoonie @deputy-videogamer @xochyw @honeybeeznuts @aspens-cove @btszn @scaleniusrm @goldenpoison @the-pan-liquid (if you'd like to be either added or removed from the taglist, please lmk! i know it's been awhile, so hi again haha)

#spider man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel #across the spider verse x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #fem!reader #fem!y/n

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mistress-of-vos · 8 months ago

Text

I'd make a longer post (and maybe one day I will) but since Lore Olympus, the story that introduced me to webtoons is coming to an end I'd like to say something:

I can't believe it is considered problematic. It has to be one of the sweetest, fluffiest, simplest stories I have read (hence why I still like it, it's a relaxing read before bed) and somehow it got too "kinky" for mainstream. It's laughable.

Everytime I dare to click on their tag or look for the # on Twitter or FB I see people clutching their pearls as if Lore Olympus were brainwashing teenagers into marrying a non existent God of the dead and have babies with him. What the hell?

The fact that people think LO is too dark makes me laugh. A single episode of Rick&Morty, BoJack Horseman or HQS has way more explicit content and dialogue. In fact!!! If it were up to me LO would have gotten genuinely kinky!!! All it does is have some surface spicy tropes that get sugar coated to not make puritans awkward and tbh that's sad. LO and the author get terribly hated anyway for daring to portray the most common female fantasy.

And this all makes me laugh but also mad because you'd think LO at least has some genuine dark themes but no? At most we have Persephone's trauma due to Apollo's abuse and yet that topic is treated as a therapy pamphlet because people couldn't handle an imperfect victim. Hades is a wife guy who shows little to no anger. Hera was re written to be sort of a feminist so that people stopped being annoying about women having emotions.

LO is a sweet, simple story with tiny spicy things here and there that were eventually pushed aside because people couldn't handle it. I wonder how Rachel feels about this, because at the beginning the story was extremely spicy and the only crime was being published in a platform as webtoon, full of people who can't differentiate reality from fiction.

Is LO a masterpiece? Idk! I enjoy the story, it's very self indulgent for me, but I won't go and analyze every detail to see how it should be labeled as it's not meant to be a perfect media. It's meant to be an entertaining, nice story of romance and it does that job very well. This need to demand perfect writing while also crucifying authors over "dark" themes is ridiculous and contradictory.

And I keep wondering, if these people loathe LO so much, why dedicate all that time to the infinte posts they make about how they would have told the story? And all those re tellings are boring! It's always "So Persephone and Hades won't ever kiss here because she's a lesbian. Also he doesn't appear at all. And Demeter isn't an abusive mom! Oh and everyone is ugly because gods shouldn't be beautiful! And Apollo isn't evil he's uwu baby. And no toxic relationships here, Zeus is a good husband!"

Sweet Gaia, you guys wouldn't handle Saint Seiya having Athena in the body of a teenage girl with big tits and who's constantly in the edge of breaking her virginity vows. This attitude screams of jealousy and puritanism and both are disgusting.

TLDR: LO being too problematic for people is both funny and annoying. I wished it actually were as kinky and dark as people insist it is. I'd pay for a toxic romance, but that being said, I LOVE it very much as it is and it's nice to have a re telling that, while not pretending to be loyal to mythology, didn't go for a route of sanitizing all the myths. I hope that once it ends haters will move on and let real fans and the author alone. 🙏

#lore olympus positive #pro lore olympus #anti anti #anti purity culture #anti puritan #anti censorship #okay here we go #lore olympus #discourse #I'm gonna block anyone who comes here to cry about how LO is too dark istg #if you can't handle size difference go back to SpongeBob or something #mistress' venting

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14dayswithyou · 10 months ago

Note

i asked a question about the post where it was said that canon renren wouldn't care about his children, so I decided to clarify

(I don't remember exactly how I asked)

By not caring about them, does he mean that he would not want to take part in their upbringing, since his father traumatized him very much?

(I hope that in the scene, where renren and angel meet his parents, it will be possible to shoot taylor (or replenish a renren account on the darknet with a new torture...)

(and happy belated birthday, renren!)

and another question: in day 3, it says that Ren only has a motorcycle, didn't Ren have a car? I remember for sure that somewhere there was an old answer where it was said that he had both a motorcycle and a car

ANSWERED: I think people see how "soft" Ren is on this blog and kinda forget the fact that he canonically only cares about Angel and no one else. He's often described as being apathetic, indifferent, and hostile towards everyone around him -- and the only person he truly feels empathy and genuine emotions for is Angel.

Ren would 100% care/be there for his kid and would never subject them to the same abuse he suffered as a child, but he won't prioritise them over Angel either. He'll love them because they're an extension of Angel, but he won't feel the same empathy or attachment the same way he does for his lifelong obsession. Canonically, Ren has no strong opinions on children, and he wouldn't really mind either way if Angel wanted to start a family or not. All he cares about -- and will ever care about -- is them.

If you haven't seen them already, here and here are two posts that show how Ren would react around his children.

I also wanna quickly clarify that Blog Ren differs from Canon Ren because while I don't see certain things happening in the official universe of 14DWY; I don't want to outright shut down people's creativity or ideas either. If someone asks about Ren's opinion on children, I'm not going to be like "he canonically hates them, next question". I want to give some sort of content that others can enjoy and work with. I hope this makes sense!! Any maybe helps to show the difference between the "canon" tag and "blog canon" tag! ^^

But!! As for Ren owning a car: he does!! It's a black Corvette -- but the reason why it's not mentioned in the demo is because it's linked with @unsentmemory's storyline (and the True Ending of 14DWY)! It'll be brought up later as more chapters are released, however!!

Also please keep in mind that we're only up to Day 3 out of 14+ days, so not all content found on this blog will appear in the demo ^^;

#💌 — answered.#💖 — about ren.#💖 — 14 days with queue.#Answerin on mobile so this might not make much sense/won't be proofread until later hghsjg #Sorry!!#to be tagged later

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teaboot · 7 months ago

Note

Hello, hope you're having a great day! You seem to be okay with asks, so I figured I'd ask you for help figuring something about tags here on Tumblr. I know general rules regarding tags/comment/reblog talking, but there's one thing I don't understand: do you need to, ideally, tag all your reblogs with things like tw for other people to see? If I don't tag, do previous tags disappear for the algorithm to take into account? I'm afraid my tagless reblog might slip under the radar and either show up unwanted or don't show up for people browsing the for you page or whatever. To clarify, I don't have any followers and don't use tags for managing my reblogs. Any answer is appreciated, and thank you in advance!

I can do my best!

The OP's tags make their post (theoretically) available results under the "search" function site-wide. Other reblogged add-ons are not.

Tagging posts you reblog (theoretically) makes them available results to search on your own blog.

If you dont copy the tags of the person you reblog from, they do not appear on your blog, and the people who follow you won't see them either. It's generally common courtesy to copy and add trigger warnings (tw) and content warnings (cw) for your followers, so they can blacklist them if needed.

Previous tags don't disappear if you don't copy them, they just don't move with your reblog. The things you do to your version do not affect previously reblogged versions.

There is no algorithm. Yet. Thank God

I personally only really "tag" potentially upsetting information, Fandom information, and relevant topics, so people can search or avoid.

You can choose not to tag anything at all if you don't want to, as well- I just have a lot of followers so I try not to bring up anything potentially upsetting without fair warning

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cheapshrimpysheep · 1 year ago

Note

Congratulations on your 500 followers!

I know Diasomnia is your hardest one to imagine, I just hope this one shouldn't be troubling you.

The request can be an imagine or headcannon, whichever you can do best.

For Silver+MC(reader), like what if their relationship is a secret? So Silver and MC have to come up with some ideas and plan to make sure their date is also a secret! Like imagine having a date in the forest, just them relaxing. Or hiding at some corner for a kiss.

Hope this won't be a trouble for you

COMMENTS: Thank you! 😊 I chose headcanons because it's easier for me. Especially for Silver, I feel like I can't know enough about him to write him well, but I hope what I can do is good enough.

I hope you and all enjoy it. 😉

CHARACTERS: Silver (and Lilia as your #1 accomplice)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Headcanons; Secret Relationship

WORD COUNT: 476 words

One thing is certain: Lilia would know! Not because Silver or you told him, but because we're not only talking about Lilia Vanrouge, but the person who raised Silver. Maybe he pretends to you that he doesn't know, but he does.

Silver starts to try even harder not to fall asleep in public. For fear of talking while sleeping and end up revealing your secret if his dreaming about you. Which he will admit happens a lot.

He himself is already the type of person who goes well unnoticed, which makes it easier to keep your secret.

You have a secret place to meet. In the woods behind campus, since the birds can warn you if someone is coming. You may also have a special tree, your meeting point, and where you carved your initials.

Whenever it's time for the two of you to meet, Lilia "convenently" appears and invites Grim to join him to do something, or starts messing with him so he can run away to Ramshackle Dorm. Ending up making you really alone with Silver.

You never go on a date where someone can tell it's clearly a date. Allowing the two of you to forge the following plan of procedure: whenever someone approached and could find you together, Silver would pretend (or even literally) fall asleep and you would pretend you were there just to wake him up. A good friend would do that, right? He would feel bad about deceiving people, but it was something that had to be done.

He really wants to give you gifts like bouquets of flowers or a stuffed animal or a box of chocolates, but big gifts like that could give you away. So, instead, he offers you smaller things like discreet jewelry, letters and other things that can pass as something you buy for yourself.

He was trained to be a guard, so he knows very well when the coast is clear. Which means he knows very well when the best times to kiss you are. But he will only do it if you are the first to show interest. He's not one to give you a spontaneous kiss.

He'll know exactly which corners to take you to so the two of you can kiss. Not only because, as a guard, he has to know where to take the person he is protecting from possible dangers, but also because of the places where he fell asleep for being so quiet and for taking so long for someone to find him.

Of all things, the one you most run the risk of someone finding out that something is going on between you two is Silver's smile. His smile is so rare that whenever it appears it's a surprise. And the fact that he always wants to smile at you turns out to be extremely suspicious.

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

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villainofmyownstory · 8 months ago

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Day Zero chapter 4

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pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x plus size fem!reader

summary: Your horror and fear after what happened at the town hall are mixed with hope. Unfortunately, the newly met man in the mask doesn't make things any easier for you. He is stubborn and distrustful. However, when night comes, he takes you to his only safe place. To his house. Home.

tags: AFAB reader, plus size reader, dog german shepherd, weapon, suicide

author's note: I decided to post a new chapter today, unfortunately I'm having a worse time in my life again…. I hope it will get better soon. The longest chapter so far, let me know what you think.

Warning!! Mention of a suicide attempt, if you don't want to or can't read this, skip the parts where day 64 is referred to. Your mental health is more important! Take care of yourself, dear reader.

AO3

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Chapter 4: The one where you visit Ghost's house

Day 732

Getting to the tower by car definitely shouldn't take as long as your hike. The distance to cover, from the center to the suburbs, did not seem so far. You both remain silent the entire way. Ghost keeps looking in the rearview mirror while driving. As if he had to make sure you were still sitting on the trunk. When it reduces speed or (worse) brakes to almost zero on the odometer. His gaze focuses on the mirror. As if the man expected you to take advantage of the opportunity and jump out of the car, taking Riley with you. You will run away and disappear, just as you suddenly and unexpectedly appeared.

Admittedly, you had no intention of doing so. Quite the opposite. You wanted to stay. Even though the man was hostile towards you, you were sure of that. Damn, he wanted to shoot you!

Like a hunter hunting a defenseless deer. A sniper in war, shooting at a designated, nameless target. Without blinking an eye, in cold blood, in one breath. Shot. Exhale. End.

Without even exchanging a word with you. Without asking you anything. Not wanting to know anything. One shot and you're done, you wouldn't even feel it. He pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Remembering what happened a dozen or so minutes ago, you clench your hands into fists. Rubbing the material of your gloves against each other. Feeling the rough material slide over the skin of your hand. You try to focus exactly on that feeling.. You don't want to let fear and terror get the best of you. Breathe, slowly. Don't let these bad thoughts defeat you. Luckily for you, the man didn't do anything to you. Maybe he is also a lost and lonely man. Who is slowly losing his mind under these circumstances. He can't cope. Just like you.

You swallow. The hands are still tightly clenched into fists. Your hands are sweaty from stress.

The sun slowly hides behind the buildings, getting darker with each passing minute. The night is getting closer. The car is traveling at a higher speed. There are fewer and fewer buildings, they are probably suburbs, so you are getting closer to your goal - the tower.

You have to be strong, not show weakness. Focus. To listen carefully. Observe.

Although it's all Ghost, he has the upper hand. He has the most important argument and strength - he has a gun. Also, he's in his own territory and is undoubtedly a man with military training. He's taller and better built than you. Definitely stronger and athletic. Yet you try to control another panic attack, you won't give in to him so easily. You may not be in a lost position. You just have to convince him somehow. After all, somehow he has to believe that you came here alone. If you gain his trust without lying to him, maybe he'll let you stay. You don't really have anywhere to go back to. That house somewhere far away wasn't fit to live in for another winter. No heating, a leaking roof, you could list more defects. And the food supply in the area was running out, you found almost everything edible. You didn't know if it would be safe to return to that place.

You swallow. Your hands are still clenched into fists. Sweaty from stress.

The sun slowly hides behind the buildings, getting darker by the minute. The night is getting closer. The car is traveling at an increasing speed. There are fewer and fewer buildings, probably suburbs, so you are getting closer to your goal - the tower.

You have to be strong, not show weakness. Focus. To listen carefully. Observe.

Without a doubt, the whole Ghost guy, has an advantage over you. He has the most important argument and power - he has a gun. Besides, he is in his own territory and is undoubtedly a man with military training. Higher and much better built than you. Stronger. Athletic. But, if you are trying to control another panic attack, you won't give in to him so easily. You may not be in a lost position. You just have to convince him somehow. After all, he has to believe in some way that you came here alone. If you gain his trust without lying to him, maybe he will let you stay. You don't really have anywhere to go back to. That house somewhere far away, is uninhabitable for another winter. There's no heating, the roof is leaking. And food supplies were running out in the area, you could find almost anything edible. You don't know if it would be safe to go back there.

This town you are in now is the only one of the larger ones in this area. He seems to be better organized, definitely better than you. You haven't even found a car in working order with at least a little bit of fuel in the tank. So maybe it's better to stay with him. It will be easier to survive. Maybe the two of you can find other people?

Maybe the man knows something more, maybe he knows about a settlement, a safe place? Some larger group of living people? Maybe there is some hope.

Meeting this man caused a small spark that some future might exist.

Although it is probably not difficult, you have never been able to plan or predict. You lived in the moment. Not worrying too much about what the next day will bring. Not really taking into account.

The consequences of your actions or, inversely, your inaction. It's time to grow up, the worried voices of your parents echo in your head. Well, maybe you should have listened to them.

You sigh and look away from the passing suburban landscape, still lost in your own thoughts. You look down for a moment, at your protruding belly and wide thighs. You haven't even lost much weight in the last two years. You blame it on your bad, inappropriate diet. You mainly ate carbohydrates and cans of ready-made or sweetened food. You found any canned vegetables less and less often. Lots of cans of carbonated drinks and lots of sweets. Not to mention salty snacks. It was easier that way. Everything had long expiration dates and was tightly packed. Thanks to this food, you satisfy your hunger and provide your body with endorphins. Fighting with your own bad, dark thoughts, when you had supplies of food and drink. You simply lay in bed on the mattress for weeks. Vegetating, waiting. Counting on... you didn't know what.

You look back at the passing landscape, individual buildings and road signs. City exit sign, highway exit, empty fields.

You regret that in the past you were never interested in the army. You didn't even know what military unit this man was from. The only thing that was clear to you was the British flag attached to his uniform. Maybe it meant something? Perhaps he was here for a reason?

Even now, when the cold of the coming evening and the breeze caused by the speed of the car caress your cheeks and exposed neck. This causes goosebumps and reddened cheeks. It was bearable, the feeling of cold wasn't really that bad.

The most significant thing is that you no longer have to walk.

The important thing is that after so many days you at last found hope.

The fact that you are finally not alone.

You choose not to think about it any longer, clinging to Riley, thanking him without words for saving him. You calm down a little.

When you finally arrive at your destination, the man hurriedly gets out of the car and opens the trunk with a gun in one hand.

“Riley stays with me”

If you don't mind the penetrating chill of the coming evening, the coldness in the man's voice definitely makes you shiver.

‘And you, woman, go into the building and tell your people to leave. I have you in my sights all the time.’

You don't have the strength to argue with him. Another exchange of words makes no sense at this point. You dream of eating something and finally taking off those damn shoes. Your legs hurt so terribly. Subconsciously, you already know that a verbal battle with this man is pointless now. He won't believe you anyway, he has to see for himself. See what you keep telling him.

One thing you were sure of right from the start. This guy was definitely confident and he didn't tolerate a word of disagreement, he knew best. Stubborn. Probably soulless, a killing machine. Who knows what bad shit he'd done in the past?

So as you slowly walk towards the building next to the tower, you wonder if your back might get shot. Simple and clear. He will execute you and this will all be over. Perhaps it would have been better. Maybe that was your end.

Fate. Destiny.

Maybe these two years of loneliness and torment were supposed to end this way. Your body will remain near the tower as a warning to other travelers. If anyone but the two of you had survived this long. Because during these few months, without seeing any sign of another person's life, you began to believe that you were completely alone. That somehow you were the only one who survived.

Day 64

You

You didn't think the crisis would come so quickly. That you will lose faith. You didn't see any solution to the situation, or there never was one.

You weren't the type of person who was sad, emotional, or prone to depression. You were always a ray of light, a cheerful green pea, as your dad used to say.

But now, as more days passed, more days of darkness, emptiness, silence. Fucking loneliness.

You couldn't handle it.

You have stopped looking out the window for hours, hoping that your loved ones will come home.

That some familiar face will save you. That someone will break the silence.

The worst were the sleepless nights. Curled up somewhere in a corner or hidden in a bathroom, somewhere in a room without windows. As far away from the outside walls as possible.

You gave up really fast. And you made one most important decision. And that day, early in the morning, when the first rays of sunlight appeared in the sky. You left the house at a brisk pace and easily reached your destination without stopping. Standing in front of the abandoned pharmacy, you knew why and for what you had come here. Without blinking an eye, you went inside and quickly found the right packages and took them from the shelves. Then, just as efficiently, you hurried back to the empty family house.

However, as you crossed the threshold of the building, the familiar smell, so close to your heart reached your nostrils. Home, the family nest. The door slammed behind you and then, for the first and only time, you hesitated.

Just as you had done for years, now, you called out to the empty rooms.

“Mom? Dad? Sis?... I'm back..."

Silence.

Nobody answered.

Emptiness.

So that was a sign, no one was there. And the decision was made, there was no turning back.

Sitting down on a chair in the dining room, you carefully unpacked the contents of the packages you brought. Earlier, you prepared a kitchen mortar and a glass of water.

Slowly, systematically, one by one, you place tablets of different sizes on the bottom of the agate dish. You don't know what quantity is right. Probably the bigger the better. The more the faster. The larger the quantity, the much painless it should be. You hope so. End the pain. Put an end to this misery.

Stirring slowly with a heavy stone pestle, you don't worry that some of the grinded medicine, will fall on the table. White powder stains the dining room table and your jeans.

Nobody will see the mess anyway. And if they do, they won't pay attention to such a detail anyway. They're more likely to notice you.

You pour the ground contents into a glass of water. Hoping that some of it will dissolve and make it easier for you to drink.

Bitterness. This is all you feel.

The cold water with the crushed tablets slowly passes down your throat into your stomach.... The bitterness on your tongue. The ground up undissolved pieces irritate your gums, sticking like sand between your teeth. You feel the acid under your tongue. Something in your throat.

You slowly swallow the rest of the mixture in the glass. Now you just have to wait. You fall asleep.

Alone.

But you won't wake up on your own. Eternal peace. Eternal peaceful sleep.

Maybe it'll be better if there's anything waiting for you afterward. If only this pain would go away.

That's what you're counting on. Well, you haven't been good at math since kindergarten.

Day 732

Finally, after a long while of walking, with a feeling of fear, with the gun pointed at your back, you reach the door of the building. With a deep sigh, slightly irritated by this whole protracted situation, you open the door

“Hey guys, come out.”

With irony in your voice, you look at the man standing at a notable distance from you.

"You see? Like I said, no one. here. There isn't"

You say angrily, clenching your fists. After a few moments, you turn on your heel and cross your arms over your chest, waiting for Ghost to move. Whatever was going on in his head right now was starting to irritate you. Constant silence on his part, and when he did have something to say. It was his words that were cold, harsh. Angry, rough commands. He addresses you without respect.

In fact, he treats you worse than a dog.

“I'll shoot you if no one comes out soon."

Ghost adjusted the gun resting on his shoulder, still aiming at you.

“No one will come out of this building...”

You sigh.

“...maybe you'll finally believe me and we'll end this nonsense? If this is how you host all your guests. I'd rather not know how my predecessors ended up.”

You add, exhaling loudly through your nose

“And I don't really want to find out”

While waiting for the man's reaction, you look at him closely. Why is he so hostile? Why does he still not believe you?

Yes, no one had the right in these strange times to trust anyone or anything, however, you appeared in the area defenseless. Without any weapons. You didn't even think to bring a knife with you. Nothing for possible self-defense. So he, after all, was just plain stubborn.

Finally, the man slowly, silently approaches you and searches the inside of the building.

Of course there is no one inside.

Paying no attention to you, the masked man turned around and moves back toward the vehicle.

“Let's go. There's not much time left.”

He throws over his shoulder in your direction. Nothing more, no apologies, you're right. I believe you now. No remorse, no understanding. Heartless, strange, Ghost.

As you sit next to the dog, with your back to the boot, the man starts the car with a squeal of tyres. The speed of the car is definitely higher. You are going too fast, even though there are no other road users besides you. It's as if Ghost is racing against the setting sun. Every now and then he nervously checks his watch and turns his head over his shoulder, towards the western sky. And so on and on.

The streets grow darker and darker. Night is coming. Nightfall.

This time you are heading in a different direction from the centre. A new, unfamiliar one. With Riley at your side, you watch the changing landscape with curiosity. Crowded, densely built-up streets with many tall buildings turn into new suburbs. Single family houses and wide pavements with overgrown yards appear before our eyes. This must once have been a nice, quiet and green neighbourhood. Families with children probably spent their best moments here, enjoying a happy life together. The middle class probably lived here and worked hard for every square metre. After school, children rode their bikes on the wide streets or ran on the green, evenly mowed lawns.

Once. Past. Memories.

Finally, after several minutes of crazy driving, the man parks the car next to one of the houses. Hurriedly he gets out and opens the garage door with a flourish.

Ghost quickly pulls in and reaches for the dog and pulls him out of the trunk. He puts him in another car, parked in the garage next door.

“Hurry up, we don't have much time.”

With that, Ghost opens the passenger door and gets behind the wheel without waiting for you.

When you change to a smaller vehicle and sit on the passenger side, you ask in surprise

“Why a we changing the car? What's going on?"

He doesn't answer anything, he rushes away. He drives for a while, again, in silence you notice him circling the area. You definitely pass the same house several times.

“Why are we driving around?”

You ask with a little fear. From minute to minute, every behavior of a man causes increasing nervousness in your body. Again, you find his behavior strange, irrational.

‘We need to confuse the trail, cover our tracks.’

The man finally speaks up and after a few moments stops at the next house.

‘Stay in the car and don't go anywhere, understood?’

Ghost quickly picks up Riley and, with the dog in his arms, marches quickly in an unknown direction. Disappearing from your sight after a moment. You're left alone, in the car, in an unknown place.

The sun was almost below the horizon, a small red glow gently illuminated the wide street.

Suddenly, the door opens on your side and you jump in your seat, slightly scared. Seeing the now familiar, masked figure, you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Shit!”

You clutch your chest, mumbling.

“Put this on your shoes and walk fast, damn it.”

The man hands you something like hospital slippers. You quickly put them on over your shoes. Hearing his voice, you know perfectly well that there is no time for discussion. Time is running out.

"Pull your hair back or keep it out of the wind and follow me quickly. Don't you dare turn around and stop!"

The man grabs you by the elbow and pulls you out of the car. He moves quickly, taking quick and decisive long strides. Compared to his legs, yours are considerably shorter than his, you practically have to run to keep up with his pace.

Not only do your legs hurt, but you are simply out of shape. Many weeks of trekking to this city and saving the portions of food you took with you. And also, the nerves caused by today have left you simply out of shape, out of strength.

Stumbling, your legs slowly give up and you hold your hair with one hand to keep it from being blown away by the wind, as commanded. You try not to fall behind the man.

At one point, Ghost slows down for a moment and turns his head, looking behind him.

“Damn it, faster.”

Regardless of your protests, he grabs you and lifts you off the ground.

"Hold on to me and don't let go."

He energetically grabs your hips and lifts you up, pulling your body towards him. He squeezes your plump body hard, digging into your skin. He's practically running now. You hold on to him, praying that he doesn't fall under the pressure of your weight or suddenly drop you.

However, nothing of the sort happens, and you both quickly reach one of the larger houses in the area. The only thing that distinguishes it from the others. Apart from its size, is that it has massive shutters and is not as overgrown with weeds as the others in the area.

The man opens the door locks, with one hand, and hurriedly enters the house. Finally, he sets you down on the floor, mumbles something unintelligible under his breath. He closes first one front door and then another, more massive one with multiple security features.

The room goes dark.

‘Where are we?’

You finally ask hesitantly, catching your breath. You didn't even notice when you held your breath.

‘In my house.’

He answers briefly and walks past you into the cramped vestibule, deep into the dark hallway

‘Take off your shoes and jacket, leave them here. Follow me.’

Ghost's house is warm and somehow strangely cozy. Standing in the doorway of the living room, while the man hastily closes the shutters and before the room goes completely dark, you try to look around. Get acquainted with the new surroundings.

The interior is decorated in a simple style. Plain, single-coloured shelves. The dark furniture bends slightly under the pressure of the collected objects. Against the walls, where there is no furniture, stand towers of neatly arranged things. There were a lot of objects here. Everything neatly, perfectly arranged. Books, CDs, clothes, bins, boxes containing other things (rather essential for survival and ordinary daily needs). Everything neatly and evenly grouped. You will not be surprised if you find that the man has everything carefully catalogued. So if you were to ask him for a small lithium battery of the CR1620 type, he would certainly find it in a few moments, without hesitation.

Despite the large number of items stored, the space does not seem cluttered. In the middle of the room is a large dark sofa with a small coffee table, opposite one of the walls on which is a large flat-screen TV. Looking to your right, you notice a slight glow and notice that instead of another wall with lots of cupboards and shelves filled in, there are open double sliding doors that lead into the kitchen. Now that glow reaches you, it's the light from the LED lamps above the worktop, slightly illuminating the distant room. You make a mental note to ask the man later where he gets his electricity from. Because he definitely has some sort of energy source. So it's not just the tower you were in last time that has a power source. It looks like this house has been inhabited for a long time and is definitely set up to live in such apocalyptic conditions for a long time. Rather, you could ask the man if he found this house by chance. Did he know about this building beforehand, and if not, how did he know to prepare so much?

Maybe he was one of those weirdos who believed every conspiracy theory, every rumour. Perhaps he was once in some sect that spoke of the imminent end of the world.

When Ghost finishes closing the shutters, the room is completely dark. You don't even hear the man moving around the room because suddenly you hear his low voice from behind you.

“Follow me, you need to wash up.”

It's only now that it's come to you. That's right. You must stink badly. Now the smell must be clearly noticeable in an enclosed room.

You feel a wave of shame sweep over you. Your cheeks are definitely red.

So many days of wandering, sleeping anywhere, as long as there was a roof over your head.

When you set off, you didn't take too many things with you. You mainly packed food, a sleeping bag and one thick sweatshirt, which usually served as a pillow. In order not to carry too many weight in your rucksack. You did not take excess clothing, but only the most necessary things to survive. You didn't expect to find much food along the way that was still edible. You didn't know how long the trek would take. However, you didn't think it would be that long. Too long.

So you turn away in shame, lowering your head, even though the house is dark, you are afraid of the man's gaze. You feel your way towards where the Ghost's voice had just come from.

You feel embarrassed about yourself, you must have, well literally, stank. You can't even remember the last time you washed yourself properly. Before setting off, you managed to heat up the water you had collected and washed yourself thoroughly in the bath. You don't even remember how many days ago that was. Too long ago to remember.

You have quite long hair, which you had tied up in a braid for days without even untangling it or combing it every day. Now many strands have fallen out of the braid, in fact, even your hairstyle looked more like your hair was loose than braided.

But the fatigue and frustration of the ongoing journey had subsided and you no longer cared about looking presentable. You didn't expect to meet anyone.

Seeing the soft light that spread a pleasant warm and yellow aura in the narrow corridor. You slowly approach the open door. Finally you hear the clear voice of a man from deep in the room, and he speaks to you again in the same dark and monotonous voice.

“Take a bath, you have everything you need in the bathtub”

Then, following his voice, you enter a slightly lit room.

It is a large bathroom decorated in a minimalist style. Dark tiles and silver fittings. No windows, no shelves of supplies. Simple minimalist interior.

A man stands next to a large free-standing bathtub. Without waiting for your answer, he leaves and speaks again.

“Wait a few minutes, the water needs to heat up”

Before you can say anything, Ghost pushes past you and closes the door behind him.

You stand in the room for a few moments, you feel so unreal and strange. As if you were in some hotel. On a special vacation.

There was a time, well, you hardly even remember, when you had things like hot water, warmth, a house without a dripping roof and just a safe space. Everything is prepared and at your disposal. You don't have to search for anything. Scouring shops and houses to find the thing you need like shampoo, toothpaste or a hairbrush.

You sit down on the closed toilet, gently remove your gloves and place them on the sink, having to wash them by hand to put them back on as quickly as possible.

You struggle to remove your shoes, and a terrible sight appears to your eyes: socks that were probably white were now a mixture of several colours. Brown, greyish black or crimson. With great difficulty you remove the sock, hissing loudly in pain. The cotton material has stuck to the dried blood, fusing with the cotton material of the sock and with your foot. Some of the wounds are reopening. Most of the nails are practically black. They are likely to fall off soon. Now that your feet are finally uncovered and you are free to lay them on the cold stone tiles on the bathroom floor. You breathe more deeply.

Cursing under your breath, you try to undress. You slowly stand up, shaking on your swollen legs. It seems to you that it is even worse than when you had tightly knotted shoes on your feet the whole time.

After a few moments, you slowly reach for the rest of your clothes and slowly undress, throwing your dirty clothes on the floor. The last layer of clothes, the one closest to your skin, has practically stuck to it. The material is wet, as if greasy and even hard in some places, soaked through with the sweat that your skin has secreted over many weeks.

When you finally manage to undress, with shaking legs you walk over to the bath and sit down on its edge. As you turn on the tap you almost sob with joy. It's been a long time since you've seen running water. Hot straight from the tap. It used to be a normal thing that attracted attention, today it's an incredible luxury.

You hesitantly reach your hand under the flowing stream of water and shiver with pleasure. It's really, really warm. You don't even know what you're going to say to Ghost when you get out after your bath. You are so grateful to him. There are no words now to describe your joy and gratitude over such a trivial matter as this bath.

You reach for the bottle standing next to the bath. A 3-in-1 body wash. For men. Well, you can't have everything. But even if you only had warm running water at your disposal, you wouldn't mind at all.

When the bath fills to the bottom, you slowly step into it and sit down. Despite the growing tingling on your skin and the pinching of your wounds. You lean more comfortably against the tub, tilt your head back and close your eyes. You finally feel comfortable and can relax, at least for a while. Your muscles and injured skin, although they seem to hurt less for a while, can finally rest.

Hot water heats the bathroom, slowly steam appears in this small space, it becomes stuffy.

The bath takes a really long time. You contemplate how the water will slowly warm your frozen, swollen body. You wash every inch of your body thoroughly. The gel smells nice, you can feel lavender and sandalwood.

You don't care that a man might be angry with you and full of further resentment. Because you spent so much time in the bathroom. That you used too much water.

It feels so wonderful. Blissful. You finally wash your greasy and tangled hair and massage your scalp. You feel tears coming to your eyes. For the first time in you don't know when, you feel safe, just clean and comfortable. You allow yourself moments of weakness.

Relaxed, you fall asleep, but unfortunately the bad memories haunt you once again.

Days 64-66

You

You didn't see how long it would be before these peculiar cocktails full of anxiety would kick in, so you chose the closest place that seemed comfortable. The sofa in the living room.

Lying down, you hugged one of the cushions you had taken from your parents' bedroom earlier. It was big, soft and smelled like.... Mum. Home. The closeness. Security. Stability. All the good things that no longer existed.

You don't know how much time has passed, each passing minute seems like an eternity.

Eventually your eyelids become heavier and heavier. Your breathing slows down. You fall asleep. Hoping forever.

Unfortunately, you were wrong, the mixture of drugs was not what you expected. You wake up with a terrible, huge stomach ache, headache, nausea. You don't even have the strength to open your eyes.

You vomit. You can't collect your thoughts, you don't know what's going on. There is only one thing in your head: pain, pain, pain.

All this goes on for hours, moaning in pain, nausea, fainting. Breathing problems come on suddenly, convulsions occur.

Everything is one long agony.

This is not how it was supposed to be.

You were not meant to suffer.

Tears run down your cheeks, mixing with the vomit that is practically everywhere. You must have fallen off the couch. You don't even feel yourself hitting the floor.

Everything hurts so much.

You fall asleep for brief moments. It all continues, the pain, the crying, the momentary loss of consciousness and then back again. Vicious circle. Endless.

When it all goes away for a while, you don't have the strength to get up, you stare at the white ceiling. Your heart beats fast.

Night and day pass. In the end, everything slowly subsides. This time you have failed. Something gave you another chance. Maybe there was a reason that you survived after all.

Days 732

You

You wake up abruptly and only after a while do you remember where you are. The bath water is already cold. You sit up shrinking your legs, hugging your legs tightly to your chest, wrapping your arms tightly around them. You bury your head, trying to make the bad memories disappear, hide, or preferably erase them from your mind.

It's not just the constant, daily nightmares that remind you of the ordeal that day. When you swallowed the ground pills and the wrong mixture caused one of the side effects to appear. That night you lost some of your hearing.

Maybe it was a punishment, or maybe it was meant as a reminder. It's not worth it. You shouldn't. No.

You will never forget.

Once the water is very cold, we get out of the bath. Although your body has thankfully relaxed a little. You wrap yourself in a towel and look around the bathroom. No sign of a change of clothes. After all, you're not going to parade around in a small towel that barely covers your pudgy body.

Slowly, hesitantly, you open the bathroom door, wanting to call out and ask a man for clean clothes. Because there is no point in wearing the old ones. They are fit to burn at most. You don't believe that even the best washing machine and detergents can cope with such dirt that has dried for weeks.

Looking down the corridor you notice a few changes. The corridor is softly lit, no longer dark.

And the other thing is that there is a chair opposite the bathroom door.

And on it lie nicely stacked brand new clothes, deodorant and a toothbrush. Next to it lie plasters, bandages and wound disinfectant.

You look around the corridor, but there is no one there but you.

In the distant kitchen you hear the clink of plates and cupboards being opened. You think you hear the clatter of Riley's claws walking quickly across the kitchen floor, a very familiar sound, something known from the past.

In addition to the symphony of sounds, your nostrils are filled with a smell. Food. Dinner. Definitely a warm meal. It's all so unreal, ordinary, idyllic. So innocent and mundane. As if those two years never happened, as if you were spending your weekend off gossiping at a friend's house. And you weren't struggling in drudgery and terror to survive.

Hurriedly, feeling your stomach growl with hunger, you pick up the things Ghost left for you from the chair. You glance at the tag of one of the clothes, not only were they the right size, they were from a really good and expensive company.

Returning to the bathroom you smile slightly, hugging the fresh and tactile clothes.

Well, maybe meeting and visiting Ghost's house wasn't as bad as you thought at first.

And maybe under the mask he wasn't such a scary person after all.

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