#just silly domestic partners in crimes things...

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

that time of month😔

[creepswrites]

MASK OF HATE (CH 3) | Michael x Reader

just when i was finally starting to feel better physically, i tanked mentally :') so i'm sorry it's taken me so long to update. i hope this was worth the wait though! i promise i Do plan to work on other stuff besides just MoH but rn i just. needed to write Michael for a bit

MICHAEL MYERS x FTM!READER (he/him)

SUMMARY: You internally cursed Dr. Loomis for tormenting this man for so, so many years. Embodiment of evil your ass, he was so obviously desperate for love and care that he'd practically thrown himself at you as soon as you'd proven you would love him no matter what. He was more than the traumas he felt compelled to reenact. He was so, so much more and you loved every part of him.

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Halloween in Haddonfield was always a high-strung time for the town.

Ever since the Halloween killings a few years ago, the town had taken a hesitant approach to the holiday. Parents made a point to accompany their kids everywhere or just simply stay home with them. If phones went down or power went out, babysitting teens were told to cross the street and get help, no matter what. Despite the horrors, people still dressed up, still went looking for candy, and still snuck out to make out with their respective partners.

Halloween for you had been quiet. You'd gone to a small costume party with your friends and tried to stay busy. You knew Michael was out working since news of his crimes reached your party, people whispering and gasping at the reported murders coming from the televisions.

You tried not to think about it.

By the time you got home, it was nearly 2am and you were exhausted. As though sensing your arrival, the Boogeyman stepped out of the shadows of your kitchen, bloodstained and breathing heavily. "Busy night?" You'd called to him with a tired smile. He tilted his head in lieu of any response.

With the holiday over, you wondered what Michael would do next. For many nights after, you lay in bed and bore holes in your ceiling as you tried to come up with a plan. Would he leave? Go back to Smith's Grove? Surely he couldn't keep killing, right? There'd be no people left in Haddonfield eventually. But was that the point?

You didn't know. You didn't like not knowing.

But he didn't do any of those things. Instead, he'd sit on your couch and watch television, intrigued by the cartoons, or follow you around the house. If you left, he'd stalk you from a distance just out of sight. He joined you for dinner and movies in front of the television and seemed to enjoy watching horror films when you put them on. You knew him well enough to notice he had a soft spot for The Thing so you tried to put it on as often as possible.

It became the new normal. Domestic and quiet.

Months passed. Fall oranges faded to browns and whites as winter approached. You'd leave out food for Mayhem in hopes he'd come home but you began to lose hope. All you could do now was pray he didn't suffer or that he hadn't been eaten by some other animal.

Michael always watched you when you did this, stood in the doorway of the backdoor while you sat on the narrow steps, hoping your kitty would come home. It might've looked silly to him but he never tried to stop you. You appreciated that.

During all this, he didn't kill anyone. At least, not that you knew of. You tried to avoid the news and, with your dad gone, you didn't have much insider information anymore. Who knows if they were even still looking for him.

So you made a Thanksgiving feast. Michael was familiar with the concept but you knew it had likely been a long time since he'd actually gotten to participate. So you went all out - turkey, mashed potatoes, corn, green bean casserole, gravy, the whole nine yards. The two of you ate together on your couch and watched Charlie Brown episodes, eating your weights in food and falling asleep on opposite ends of the couch.

When you'd woken, you had been taken aback by how peaceful he looked when he slept. Curly hair ruffled from the awkward angle he lay against one of your throw pillows, his face still but not tense. Pretty, you thought to yourself not for the first time.

It was nice. Everything felt perfect.

One afternoon when you'd gotten back from work, you saw Michael masked up and standing on your front porch cradling something wrapped up in an old towel. "What is that?" You gasped, fearing the worse as you hurried closer.

But you broke down into tears, immediately recognizing Mayhem. Cold, trembling, and most certainly sick in so many ways but alive and home. You'd taken him to the vet's office, a sobbing mess in the waiting room. He'd need surgery for his infected wounds and have to be on antibiotics for a long time but you were just relieved he was home and safe now.

Michael never told you how he found him. You didn't ask, just baked him a pumpkin pie as thanks.

November browns turned to December blues as snow and frost began to make appearances. The first snow day, you'd bundled both yourself and Michael up and dragged him outside to see the falling snow. He wore the mask much less now, often leaving the thing in the corner of the closet, hidden away like a bad memory.

You didn't really understand that. Your best theory was that the mask compelled Michael to kill and now that Halloween had come and gone, he was back to some semblance of normal. He still wore masks from time to time - rustic paper mache ones crafted at your kitchen table on quiet afternoons - but significantly less now. Maybe it was just a Halloween thing and he was relatively normal the rest of the year? You weren't sure. Obviously, you knew better than to push about what happened with his sister but you wondered if the killings were a reenactment of the trauma.

Psychology has always interested you.

It wouldn't surprise you if the great Dr. Loomis neglected to acknowledge that Michael was traumatized, quick to demonize him rather than provide him proper care. That he didn't put together Michael went from a normal boy to suddenly completely nonverbal and monotonous after killing her. It had affected him, even if people didn't want to admit that. Michael himself included.

But wearing the classic mask a little less meant you could slip a cute wool hat on his head and drag him out, mitten-clad hands clasped together as you charged outside. "Come see, come see!"

Michael looked up at the falling snow, squinting against the snowflakes that began to freckle his face. You'd laughed and nudged him. "Try this," you said before opening your mouth and letting the snowflakes fall on your tongue.

He'd given you a bewildered look but tried it. Only because he'd grown so fond of you, you assumed.

Days passed. Mayhem made a full recovery and now spent his days lounging in the winter sun. Sometimes he'd brush against Michael for attention and the man had gotten better at returning it, fingers brushing soft black fur occasionally. It was sweet, you thought, how he'd slowly begun to reintegrate into your life.

When you caught him drawing on looseleaf papers, you decided to get him paints and canvases as an early Christmas present and cleared out your dad's old room to let him have an art studio to paint and work on his masks in private. You'd layed down old newspapers to keep the floor relatively clean when you revealed it to him. He'd spend hours up in there, painting or making masks. You'd helped him hang some up on the wall of the room with little thumbtacks as hooks. He was getting good, you'd thought as you examined a bright orange mask that resembled a jack o' lantern.

Michael didn't show you his paintings very often. That wasn't really the point anyways so you didn't mind. But there had been a few times when he'd leave a dried canvas outside your bedroom door or atop your bed like a cat offering dead animals. Your favorite so far was one of the winter sky painted with fluffy whites and cold blues with your own profile looking up at the sky. The way he painted was streaky, like his hands shook, but it was still beautifully detailed despite the messy lines and bleeding colors.

It was interesting seeing yourself through someone else's eyes translated to art. You'd kept the painting in your room and you'd trace your fingers along the raised streaks of paint, fingers running along the lines of your face. You wondered, fleetingly with bright red cheeks, if he painted you often and just never showed you.

There was a chance. You liked to think he did.

It was around the middle of December as you attempted to get ready for a holiday party. Attempted being the key word. “Michael,” you sighed, adjusting your elf hat. “I told you, I’ll be back later tonight. I’ve left dinner in the fridge and I promise I’ll call when I’m coming home.”

It was nearing Christmas when you'd gotten invited to a holiday party. You were attempting to get ready, dressing up as a cute little elf. Attempting being the key word. "Michael," you sighed, adjusting your stupid looking elf hat, "I told you, I'll be back later tonight. I've left dinner in the fridge and I promise I'll call when I'm coming home."

Michael glared at you behind the accursed Halloween mask. He had a habit of being a bit of a brat and you found it equally annoying as you did endearing. He'd put the mask on when he'd learnt you were leaving but you'd expected that. Whenever he was generally stressed out or upset, you'd find it covering his head. The symbolism there wasn't lost on you but you had more pressing things to worry about then the possible metaphor of Michael masking himself literally and figuratively.

"If you're so upset, why not come with?" You snorted to yourself as you focused on doing your eyes in a dark green with white mascara. "I can do your makeup, dress you in a cute sweater, no one would know it's you. Could be fun, yeah?"

You paused to do your lips in a dark red. Makeup wasn't really your preference but it suited the costume you wore - a dark green tunic with red and white striped knee socks with brown boots. The hat was a matching green and jingled stupidly from the little bell on the end. You'd done your face with a heavy blush and had drawn little white snowflakes in liquid eyeliner. It was cute.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching you had you spinning around. Michael stood directly behind you and tilted his head when you made eye contact. "Wait, are you serious?" You blinked in surprise. You'd gotten good at reading him in the few months you'd spent living together and you could tell he was accepting your offer.

He gave you a blank stare before putting a hand around your neck and squeezing. You noted his tense shoulders and tried to relax. A few months ago, this gesture would have terrified you. Now you knew that it was just his way of expression. A knife and a violent hand was all he could use to convey things so you'd learnt to just roll with it, knowing that his intent wasn't to kill you.

So you didn't panic.

"I'm not making fun!" You insisted, lifting a hand to push lightly at his chest. "I just need to be sure you're actually interested in going. There'll be people there, you know that right?" Silence. "People you can't kill." More silence. "I'm not kidding either, you can't hurt or kill anyone if you come with me." It had been a long time since he'd killed anyone but you could never be totally sure of his motives. He could still be unpredictable from time to time.

Michael let you go and marched towards the dresser. You watched curiously as he fished out a black shirt and black jeans - clothes you'd gotten for him when he couldn't be in the jumpsuit - before offering them with outstretched arms. He gave you a curt nod and you smiled.

He didn't do that often so you knew he was serious.

"Alright then, c'mere big guy," you motioned for him to sit on the bed as you began gathering up makeup supplies. You kept your head turned away as he changed to offer him some semblance of privacy. Growing up in an institution meant he didn't have a lot of shame left but you always felt bad when you thought about that. 

You missed the way his hands shook as he took off the mask, too busy searching for a colored contact for his injured eye. You found a pretty jade green and figured that'd work. Heterochromia was uncommon, not unheard of. Some red eyeshadow for his eyes would help cover up the scar and would also be cute for a Rudolph nose. You collected your supplies and turned to Michael with a wide smile.

That smile fell when you saw him sitting on your bed, dressed up nice as he stared at the mask clutched tightly in his hands. He stared into its face with wide, terrified eyes and that made you freeze. You'd seen that look only once before: when you held each other in the bathroom after you'd saved him from being shot.

"You don't have to go." Your voice was soft and reassuring. He looked up at you slowly and you continued. "I know this isn't something you normally do, but-" Michael blinked slowly as you rambled. "I don't want you to feel like you have to do this for me." The last thing you needed was him snapping and killing people at the party. You'd both be in trouble for that.

But you also wondered if he was unfamiliar with being given choices. You never forced Michael into things he didn't want to do and it was possible he wasn't used to that.

He stared at you for a long time, fingernails digging into latex, before he unclenched long enough for the mask to fall to the floor with a soft crunch. The two of you stared at it for a long time and he blinked rapidly as he stared. You could tell by the clenching and unclenching of his jaw that he was fighting something off.

You wanted to make it easier for him.

So you took a seat beside him and reached for his face with slow hands. His flinch made your heart break and you cooed to him softly. "It's just me," you soothed as you clicked open the container with the contact lens inside. "I'd never hurt you."

Michael relaxed slowly, watching you with something storming in his eyes. You cupped his cheek with one hand and his eyes fluttered briefly. "Have you ever put contacts in?" You asked, smiling warmly at him.

He shook his head once. This was going to be tricky.

It took some time to get the contact in. Neither of you really knew what you were doing and you kept worrying it'd roll back to his brain. But, with your combined efforts, it now sat comfortably in his eye. Pretty green-hazel heterochromatic eyes that you fought to not get lost in. Even with the scarring he looked… normal.

"Should I even ask if you've ever worn makeup?" You teased as you took out the eyeshadow. "I'll be brushing your face and around your eyes. Is that okay?"

Michael blinked slowly, which you took as a yes.

"Stop me if it gets to be too much, okay?" You said softly before dabbing the brush in the dark red and swiping it gently over his lids, relieved it covered the scar pretty well.

You weren't sure how familiar people were with his actual face. When people thought of Michael Myers, did they just see the pale, masked face of the Boogeyman? Or did they see his mugshot, televised on the evening news as they reported his escape and recapture?

When you moved to his next eye, his hand shot out to clench your hip tight. He hated feeling vulnerable. You were the only exception to his no touching rule because you'd proven your loyalty. In exchange, he'd given you protection. But he still disliked giving over control and holding you like a stressball was the only thing he could do to abate his anxiety.

You dusted some red on the tip of his nose and smiled to yourself. "So a few of my friends will be there," you hummed as you added the finishing touches on the raccoon-style eyeshadow you'd given him to hide a lot of the scars. Since he was wearing darker clothes, you reached for the black eyeshadow next with the intent of dusting it around his lids to give him a smokier look. It made him a tad intimidating, black soot that petered out into a dark red. "They'll probably try to talk to you but I'll try and take over. If they ask, we'll say you got in a car accident when you were young and haven't been able to talk since."

He gave your hip a squeeze in confirmation.

You brushed some red on the tip of his nose with a hum. "My friend Leslie is the chattiest so at least we won't have to worry about him. He's always rambling on and on about the horror novel he's writing. To his credit, it's really interesting." You began to brush a heavy blush on his cheeks, chuckling at the way he squinted against the sensation. "It's about some boy who was thrown over a waterfall before rising to take revenge on the town? I think? I mean, he'll certainly tell you all about it. I think he's calling it Behind the Mask or something, I'm not sure."

Michael opened his eyes when you finished with the blush and you froze. He looked good and you couldn't help but stare. Tight fitting shirt, half-lidded eyes decorated in smoky colors, and messy brown curls that you made a note to fluff up before you left. He looked painfully normal and pretty and you wanted to-

You cleared your throat and grabbed the white eyeliner pen. "This'll be colder but try not to move." Gently, you held under his chin to keep him steady as you began to dot little freckles along his cheeks and nose, pausing to draw larger snowflakes at the corners of his eyes. That way you two matched!

When you pulled back, you realized he'd been staring at you.

There were a few times in the time of you knowing Michael that you wondered if he could read minds. If, in order to be the scariest thing possible, he knew exactly what scared someone. But, you reminded yourself, this wasn't some Stephen King novel. Still, it unnerved you to consider he knew what you thought of him privately.

"Oh! I know!" You hopped up and hurried back over to your vanity, grabbing a brown headband decorated with felt horns wrapped in tiny bells. They were painfully cute and you spun to show him.

He squinted at you and you giggled. "Trust me, it'll look super cute." Sliding it atop his head, you finally got to fluff his hair out to disguise the band better. When you stepped back, you gave him a once-over and a smile.

Michael fucking Myers dressed up as a reindeer. Cute little nose, horns, and all.

"You think we should use nicknames to be less suspicious?" You hummed, tilting your head - a habit you'd picked up from him. "I could call you Mike." He glared at you and you smiled with a faux-innocence. "Aw, don't like it?" He glared harder and you laughed. "Well, if they ask for your last name, I'm making something up!"

He got up wordlessly and made his way to your vanity, examining himself in the mirror. As expected, he didn't say anything. But he did touch lightly at his eyes, curious when the powder came off on his fingers. You joined him, looking you both over in the mirror. From the outside, you two looked like any normal young couple heading for a Christmas party.

“Well Mikey,” you said as you grabbed your bag, “Shall we?”

You laughed at the slow, unimpressed blink he gave you.

You were honestly impressed Chrissy managed to get so many people to come. She'd been very popular in high school - a cheerleader who'd dated the quarterback of the football team, well-liked, and clearly still riding that high despite graduating out of high school cliques. Chrissy had been a year above you but had always been one of those girls to try and invite everyone she knew to any events she threw. So you weren't exactly close friends but you'd helped her with a school project once and apparently that was enough for her.

The house was decorated to the nines, lined in little white lights that glistened against the freshly fallen snow. Little reindeer animatronics made of the same lights "grazed" in the front yard and little candy cane lights lined the pathway. It all felt a little magical. A small flurry had picked up when you and Michael got out of the car and made your way up to the front door.

Michael paused to look up at the sky while you rang the doorbell, listening to the melodic chimes ring out inside the house. You swore he almost smiled, his hair dusted in little white flakes when he looked down at you. Your heart seized at the sight and you were struck with the urge to k–

Chrissy opened the door, smiling wide and dressed in an inappropriate Mrs Claus outfit. She surveyed you both and let out a surprised gasp, the corners of her mouth curling in delight. "And who's this hottie?" She whispered at you while giggling like a schoolgirl. "I didn't know you knew any cute guys. No offense." She twirled her hair, shamelessly looking Michael up and down.

Jealousy shot through you like a bolt of lightning. "He's my boyfriend."

"Oh," she seemed almost disappointed, which you tried to brush off. She'd always felt a little entitled towards whomever she determined was the most attractive guy. It was just how she was, even if it pissed you off in the moment. "Well, I'm happy for you!" She spun on her heel and led you both into the house, gesturing for her butler to take your coats. "Feel free to mingle, lovebirds! We've got drinks, food, and our chef made a bunch of cookies."

Michael seemed to notice the lovebirds comment and you flushed, giving a nod and smile to Chrissy while trying to ignore his stare boring into the back of your head. "Thanks. Oh, um, here!" You reached into your bag and held out a small, nicely wrapped gift. "For the Secret Santa."

She lit up and took the box enthusiastically. "Ohmygosh, thank you! I was just going to ask." Chrissy added the box to a nearby table and clasped her hands together excitedly. "Alright, perfect, you're free to go!"

You led the way to the kitchen, dodging a few familiar faces with smiles and waves and promises to return once you'd gotten some food and drinks. Michael held your wrist the whole way there, squeezing harder and harder the more people spoke to you.

The kitchen was huge, white, and perfectly pristine. The maid who cleaned everything always made their house look like an interior design catalog rather than an actual home. A large plate of highly elaborate sugar cookies lay atop the countertop, a large amount already missing with only trails of crumbs indicative of their place there.

You grabbed a candy cane shaped cookie and gestured for Michael to grab one. "I think you'll like these." He just stared at you, eyes widened ever so slightly. "What?" You asked through a mouthful of cookie. His head tilted slightly and you swallowed nervously. "Sorry for the, um, boyfriend comment. It just, uh, it felt like a safe alibi, y'know?"

Michael stared at you, eyes calculating. You prepared a million apologies in your head before he reached for a snowman cookie and bit into it, never breaking eye contact. You weren't sure if that was approval or disapproval so you both just stood there, staring awkwardly at each other and eating sugar cookies. Your fingers drummed anxiously on the cold marble tile of the kitchen counter as you tried to stand your ground.

When he finished his, Michael stepped closer to you and placed a hand at your waist. He leant forward and pressed his lips to your forehead, making you gasp in surprise. It wasn't exactly a kiss but the intent was there and the message was clear. You swallowed when he pulled back and you swore his eyes softened. "Okay, okay, cool," you said quietly, trying - and failing - to hold back your smile.

Standing on your tiptoes, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek and smirked to yourself about the faint lipstick stain there. You snagged another couple cookies and a glass of cider. His cheeks were a soft pink when you passed him one of the cookies. "Shall we brace the music?" You grinned as you took his arm and led him out the door back into the party.

Everything went perfectly, all things considered. Of course, everyone you knew wanted to meet your new boyfriend. "It's a recent development," you'd say as Michael took a drink to avoid talking. "I met him when my car broke down and we just… hit it off, y'know?" You'd smile as though recounting the memories through your pleasant buzz from the cider.

"How long have you been dating?" You were asked a few times.

"Oh, a month and a half now, I think. It feels like it's been longer." You'd say while Michael chewed on cookies.

It had been, if you thought about when the starting point of your relationship could've been. Maybe not long after he'd gotten sick and you'd cared for him in a way he hadn't had since he was a child. Or maybe after you'd both made a wordless pact to each other while your father lay bleeding on the kitchen floor. Hard to say. But calling him your boyfriend had come so easily that you questioned how long you'd considered him that in your subconscious.

When Chrissy announced her parent's arrival with a few of their friends in tow, you went to greet them without a second thought. You froze in fear when you caught sight of her father: John Kallas. Officer Kallas. A friend of your father's who had been part of the team searching for Michael around Halloween.

You clutched Michael's arm and steered him to a quiet hallway of the house. "Don't let her dad see you," you whisper-yelled. When he tilted his head, you ran a nervous hand through your hair. "He was one of the cops looking for you. He might recognize you."

Michael didn't visibly react but you did notice him clenching his jaw. "I didn't know he'd be here! I hadn't thought of it until I saw him." You sighed, frustrated with your own anxiety rising. "I'm sorry. Do you want to leave?"

He seemed to think it over but you were interrupted by heels clicking on the tile floor. In a panic, you grabbed his wrists and put his hands at your waist. "Act like we were kissing." You whispered as you leant in, bumping your foreheads together.

His head tilted askew slightly and gave you a moment to mess up your lipstick a little. The footsteps came to a halt and you heard a familiar laugh that made all the anxiety in your body melt away in an instant.

Kalei stood with their arms crossed, looking you both over with an amused expression. "So is this the guy you were telling me about back in September?" They laughed at seeing the way you hid your face in your hands in embarrassment.

Michael gave you a quizzical look and you groaned. "Yes, yes, he is." You confessed with an exhausted sigh. "But shh!" You waved a hand at them to try and quiet them.

They didn't back down though. "He would gush about you at work to me all the time," they drawled out, ignoring your flustered protests.

"I didn't-!"

"You better treat him right!" Kalei said, crossing their arms over their chest. "I may not look it but I can pack a serious punch."

Michael blinked slowly before looking back at you. "What do you need, Kalei?" You sputtered, trying to change the topic before your impromptu boyfriend decided to make a scene.

"Oh, the Secret Santa's starting. Came to getcha." They gestured for you both to follow with an impish smile growing on their face. "Better hurry up before people start making assumptions." They teased with a waggle of their eyebrows.

Your face lit up like a torch and you gently pushed Michael away to march down the hall. "N-no, wouldn't want that, yeah." Your voice sounded far away to your own ears, too much blood pounding through your head.

Michael followed on your heels like a loyal dog and you tried to ignore the way that made you feel.

You and Michael took a seat on one of the couches and you held his arm almost possessively, especially when you noticed some of the other girls at the party kept looking at him with bashful faces. It pissed you off just how shameless they were even when they knew he was dating you. Was it that hard for people to believe?

The absence of John Kallas made you think that he and his buddies had gone into one of the other rooms. Which put your mind at ease, at least a little.

The Secret Santa was relatively uneventful. You clapped politely as people opened their gifts and were surprised when Chrissy handed you your gift from her. A book on growing vegetables with a tab already inside on a picture of a tomato plant. "You think I should grow tomatoes?" You gave her an amused smile.

"Well, duh! It, like, suits your whole vibe, y'know? I'm surprised you don't grow more vegetables." Chrissy had nudged you gently as you began leafing through the rest of the book, skimming the words as Michael watched over your shoulder.

As it finally came time to leave, you were saying your goodbyes to Chrissy when you spotted Officer Kallas leaving the kitchen. You pulled Michael out of there quickly, hoping that the stumble the officer gave was simply him tripping and not because he'd seen The Boogeyman as your date to his daughter's party.

Your walk back to the car was brisk and silent. White snow was like stars as it fell overhead before coming to rest on your shoulders and the ground below. "Thank you for coming," you said, reaching over to squeeze Michael's hand. "It was nice having you there."

Before you could pull your hand away completely, he gave you a squeeze of his own before climbing into the passenger seat.

Oh, you thought to yourself. Oh.

For Christmas, you'd gotten Michael a drum set.

It had been an impulsive buy, a decision you had made while walking past a thrift store and noticing a decently priced set on display in the window.

He enjoyed doing things with his hands - be it painting, making masks, or, most recently, helping you decorate Christmas cookies. So you figured he'd get a kick out of drumming. You lived far out enough that he could afford to be loud without worrying about waking the neighbors up and you had a detached garage he could play in. Maybe when the weather got warmer, he'd move outside.

And it might help him to let energy out. You'd caught him giving death glares to random postmen who came to your door and he'd already begun the habit of wearing the accursed Halloween mask around the house again. So you didn't want him to get bored.

“Here,” you said as you passed him the drumsticks. He examined them curiously and you gestured to the drums. When he gave you an empty stare, you took one of the stucks and whacked on the cymbals. That made Michael’s eyes widen and he moved around to take a seat. “You can be as loud as you want with them. No one’ll hear soooo… go crazy!”

Michael took the stick back and held them both in hesitant hands. With a few bangs that seemed exploratory coupled with getting the hang of pressing his foot to make a lower noise, he seemed to catch on pretty quick. His banging grew in speed and volume as he gained confidence and you laughed, covering your ears when the sound echoed off the walls of the small space. "You got it!" You called over the crashing cymbals.

A loud bang signified the end of his "song" and he stared at you with wide, crazy eyes, panting heavily. "Fun, right?" You smiled at him. "They're all yours so you're free to come play them whenever you want."

His lips curled into an almost feral smile that made you smile back. You'd never seen him smile before, much less like that.

Over the next few days, Michael continued sneaking – literally sneaking, like he'd be in trouble if you spotted him – into the garage to play the drums. His disorganized, chaotic banging was slowly starting to take form. Organized chaos, you smiled to yourself. The loud sounds and movements gave Michael a chance to express himself with noise which was quite the contrast to his usual quiet self.. You also found it exceptionally cute when he'd go play and come back inside hours later with his wild brown curls disheveled and a crazed grin on his face.

It had been unsettling at first seeing him smile the way he did but now it just made your heart seize. His fingers would drum on things to a tune you couldn't hear and he was painfully human now, relaxed around you and genuinely happy, from what you could tell.

So you made a mixtape for him that focused on heavy drum sounds, steady but loud beats the way he liked. At first he didn't seem too interested in it but you'd since caught him listening to it a few times, eyes closed and posture relaxed. Music wasn't something Michael had a lot of exposure to so you had fun introducing him to various bands and musicians.

Metal music seemed to be his preference, which made a lot of sense.

It was New Years when things really changed.

You and Michael had the television on with the channel turned to watch the ball drop. It wasn’t typically a tradition you cared about but you could tell your housemate was intrigued. He’d been upstairs painting for most of the day while you cleaned the house up a bit. "Spring cleaning," you said to Michael as he watched you from the kitchen. "Cleaning makes me happy. It's nice to get everything back in order after the holidays. 'sides, it's still too cold out for gardening."

Michael tilted his head but retreated back upstairs with his water jar for his paints.

Once the sun set, you made hot chocolate and ordered pizza. Michael preferred just plain cheese but you’d gotten yours with olives - something Michael always gave you looks for. "Don't knock it 'till ya try it," you'd snickered through a mouthful of pizza.

His brow furrowed in distaste as he took a bite of his own pizza.

It was cute. He had a lot of personality once you knew where to look. And he’d clearly gotten very comfortable with you during the time you’d been living together. It felt like a great honor to get to see Michael Myers do something as mundane as eat pizza in lounge clothes.

The two of you watched cartoons for a few hours until 11:57 hit. You flicked to the news channel and let your head loll to the side and rest against the back of the couch. "It's not the most exciting thing in the world," you said as you glanced at Michael, "But it's fun. It's nice to see everyone around the world get together for something like this."

Michael had just stared at the television with a slight tilt to his head. 11:59 struck and you felt your throat tighten as an idea came to mind. You recalled a conversation you'd had with Chrissy a couple years back where she'd told you about her favorite New Years tradition.

50 seconds…

It couldn't hurt to ask, right?

45…

“Hey, Michael?” Your voice was barely a whisper. You kept your eyes trained on the TV even when you felt his eyes on you.

40…

Swallowing was a challenge for you. “There’s, um, a kind of New Years tradition. That, um, it means-”

30…

“-you’ll have good luck for the rest of the year.” Your words were slow and methodical. It felt like you had to really sell him on the idea, even if you were afraid to tell him what it was. You weren't even sure you wanted to admit to yourself how badly you wanted to-

25…

“Want to do it?”

Michael just stared blankly at you. His eyes darted between yours, calculating. It made you feel flayed open despite the fact you were pretty sure he didn't know what you were talking about.

20…

He gave you a single nod. You quickly darted your tongue out to wet your lips. Now or never, you sighed internally.

“Trust me,” you said more than asked. His eyes widened slightly but he didn't pull away. You knew he trusted you and all you could do was hope he didn't react poorly.

15…

You swallowed around the heavy lump in your throat and tried to not look too worried. If he got the impression it was something bad, you may lose your chance. Lifting a gentle hand, you let your fingertips graze his cheek before slowly settling to cup his face properly.

It was like you could hear the sound of your own heart pounding even over the cheering on the television.

10…

"This okay?

9…

Michael's eyes softened and he gave a slight nod, as though worried he'd dislodge you entirely.

8…

You scooted closer, the both of you adjusting so you were sat facing each other, opposite shoulders brushing the back of the couch. He sat perfectly cross-legged while one of your legs braced against the floor.

7…

Slowly, you reached over with your free hand to tangle your fingers together in a loose hold.

6…

His eyes widened more and his lips parted. A look of realization flashed in his eyes and for a moment you worried you'd overstepped.

5…

"Still okay?"

4…

Michael gave a small nod again, eyes darting all over your face as he searched for…something. You weren't sure.

3…

2…

1…

You leant forward and pressed your lips together in a sweet kiss. The sounds of cheering that came from the television felt far away and underwater. Every sense in your body was focused on Michael - the warmth of his hand, the residual taste of hot chocolate on his lips, and the soft intake of breath you heard when your lips met.

It felt like the cheering was for you two.

At first, Michael didn't seem sure what to do with himself. With some gentle guidance, you tilted his head to the side to let him lean into the kiss better. He was clearly trying, so you scooted closer and let him set his hands on your hips to lift you into his lap without breaking the kiss.

When you parted to catch your breaths, Michael was staring at you with half-lidded, glassy eyes. It felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest

You pulled him back in, tangling your fingers in his hair to keep him in place. His arms wrapped around your waist and you sunk into his hold. Being with him felt warm and safe.

So yeah. Things changed on New Years. But neither of you were complaining.

The snow finally began to clear up, being replaced smoothly by sleet and rain. It was honestly far more preferable to you, since it made walks in the forest more enjoyable. You'd always preferred the rain.

It had been a few weeks since the New Years and you and Michael were in some type of relationship. The word "dating" had come to mind but it wasn't really accurate. It was more than dating. You were partners in crime - literally and figuratively - as well as good friends, housemates, close confidants, and, more importantly, you saw each other. Really and truly. You'd both picked up on the others wordless sentences and slight shifts in your bodies were like loud declarations. Sure, you two held hands and he let you touch him more but that wasn't what was important to you.

Michael smiled more. He'd watch you with soft, sleepy eyes, stopped tensing whenever you cut his hair, and you'd caught him dozing off on the couch a few times.

You internally cursed Dr. Loomis for tormenting this man for so, so many years. Embodiment of evil your ass, he was so obviously desperate for love and care that he'd practically thrown himself at you as soon as you'd proven you would love him no matter what. He was more than the traumas he felt compelled to reenact. He was so, so much more and you loved every part of him.

Today, you needed to run down to the store to grab a few things. The rain had finally let up enough that you felt comfortable driving. "Michael? I'll be back around 5:30, alright?" You called into the house as you fastened your shoes.

Ever since the Christmas party, he'd gotten better about you leaving the house for short periods of time. So long as you promised to come back, that is. If you didn't, you knew he'd hunt you down with a knife and a bloodstained jumpsuit. Of that, you had no doubt.

Michael appeared in the doorway of the kitchen staring at you. You shot him a grin and grabbed your bags. "Be back soon!" You called over your shoulder as you ventured outside.

Looking back on it, you wished you'd stayed home…

You were examining a box of cereal for dents when someone approached you. "Hey," Chrissy's voice came from behind you. When you turned, she looked tense with her arms around herself and her smile was tight. Forced. Alarm bells began ringing in your head but you smiled back.

"Hey, Chrissy. Uh, you okay?"

"How's your boyfriend? What was his name, um, Michael, right?" She looked like she'd be sick and you felt white-hot adrenaline shoot through you like a bolt of lightning. "He, um, is he around?"

You swallowed, keeping your movements slow and casual. If you cracked, then she'd know. So you made a show of putting the cereal box into your cart and took the chance to look around. The aisle was empty but you caught the sign of movement near the end. Blue police uniforms, likely Chrissy's dad and his partner.

"No, he's traveling." You gave Chrissy an exhausted smile. "Y'know I'm not gonna pass your number along, right?"

She looked pale but her smile got wider and she took a small step back, like you terrified her. "Did, um, did someone die?" Her fake pout made you want to punch her in the face. Her faux sympathy oozed from her tone and you couldn't help the way your eye twitched. "Maybe his sister-?"

You froze in place. She knew. You don't know how she found out but there was no doubt she knew. Why the hell Officer Kallas had waited so long to act, let alone use his daughter as bait, was beyond you. Had he seen pictures from the party and asked Chrissy to identify him? Had he compared it to his mugshot? The thought of that made you irrationally angry.

"His dad is sick." You grit out through clenched teeth.

"You're sick," Chrissy shot back like a viper. "You've been sleeping with the fucking Boogeyman! You brought him to my house, oh my god, what if he killed-!" She choked back a sob, having the audacity to look betrayed.

Like a Barbie doll with mascara tears.

Enough was enough. You spun on your heel and marched away from a sobbing Chrissy like a man on a mission. You heard Officer Kallas call your name and you took a steadying breath before spinning, swinging the metal cart full of boxes and cans behind you and watching the two officers stumble and trip. Chrissy shrieked in fear and you took off towards the sliding glass doors. The crackle of a walkie talkie behind you was loud, too loud for you to make out any words being said. Everything in you was hyperfocused on running.

You heard heavy footsteps hot on your heel and you wished, momentarily, that you had a weapon of your own.

All you had to do was get to your car, the little piece of junk like an oasis in a hot desert. All you had to do was get in and you could get away, get to a phone booth and call Michael. Tell him to get Mayhem, pack bags, and get out. You'd promise you'd pick him up. Something. Anything.

But you’d never get the chance. 

The officer tailing grabbed you around your middle and lifted you up like a bratty child hauling a cat around. “Put me down!” You shrieked and began to slam your fists on his arms.

"You're under arrest for disrupting justice, harboring a criminal, and assaulting an officer," his robotic words fell on deaf ears as you continued to fight for your life. Cornered animals bit and he was finding that out the hard way as you twisted to claw at his face.

But he easily overpowered you, shoving you into the backseat of his police cruiser and slamming the door. Tears began to fall down your face as you began to panic. Michael wouldn't know they were coming. They surely knew to check your house. They'd catch him there and then what? Would they kill him? Shoot to kill, like you remembered hearing on the radio all those months ago?

You felt like throwing up. All you could do was curl up on the leather seats and sob your heart out.

All you could do was hope he'd be okay.

Dr. Samuel Loomis considered himself a brilliant man.

He was assigned to Michael Myers' case when the young boy had first been admitted to Smith's Grove when he'd just been a young, non-speaking child. His mother had brought him in, her eyes red rimmed and pleading to help her son.

And Dr. Loomis always loved a challenge case. Every 'difficult' patient he ever had while working in this institution had eventually cracked under his methods. So he studied Michael, subjecting him to various medications, talk therapy, and tried everything to trigger any kind of response out of him. At first, Michael seemed to truly want to be helped. His mother visited every week and talked with him about home, about his life after the institution.

Michael took well to art therapy, much to Loomis' frustrations - he had strongly advised against giving the young boy access to making masks - and he started to make progress in sorting through what happened to him.

Then his parents died. It was like everything in Michael shut down after that. Walls were built up high and became impenetrable the longer Dr Loomis poked and prodded for a reaction. 

Years went by and no more progress was made. It was like talking to a brick wall. A brick wall with eyes like the devil, as far as Loomis was concerned. There was no way a child could commit such atrocities without an ounce of guilt, no confession of sin. He'd advocated strongly against Michael being released on parole, insisting he was soulless and dangerous.

So Halloween came and Michael escaped, killing teenagers and reenacting the horrors he'd committed to his sister fifteen years ago. And now he had escaped yet again. This time was different though - Michael had gone missing for several months now. Too long had passed without any new murders and Loomis was becoming anxious and impatient. Police had let the case go, grateful at the idea Michael moved on to terrorize a new town.

But Dr. Loomis knew Michael Myers all too well.

He stood in his dimly lit office, watching a police car drive up through the large open window. Watching you get unloaded from the car and observing the way you fought so viciously, Loomis felt like he hit the jackpot. It was no wonder Michael was so obsessed with you. There was a darkness to you that had yet to grow anywhere. Surely he was just biding his time, playing house with you while he waited for you to snap and join him in his killing sprees.

He couldn't have that though. Michael had to be returned to Smith's Grove before he caused any more devastation.

“Doctor?” Officer Kallas’s voice broke the psychologist from his stupor.

“Come in.” He turned, looking over his shoulder and smiling when he lay eyes on you.

There you were. In handcuffs with tear tracks on your face. Your lip was split from where you'd nicked it while trying to bite Officer Kallas. “We apprehended him like you asked. We’ll head to the house to retrieve-”

“Don’t,” Loomis held up his hand to still the room. “No. We’ve got all we need right here.” He approached you slowly, like you were something to behold. You felt slimy under his fascinated stare. “Michael will come looking for him. Then we’ll catch him. We can’t give him any home-turf advantages.”

Officer Kallas nodded and shoved you forward into the room before closing the door behind him. You felt like a muzzled dog, glaring down the doctor with such hate that it reminded him of Michael.

Dr Loomis took a seat at his desk. “Tell me,” he hummed, “What was it like being held captive by Michael?” You looked at him, brow furrowed. Held captive? Was that the narrative they were running with? He seemed to misinterpret your confusion and gave you a sympathetic smile. “I know you were held by him for quite some time. Your friend Chrissy told her father about it. You were seen-”

“I wasn't a prisoner.” You spat, almost offended.

“So you were simply afraid.” The doctor clicked his pen, beginning to write something down. His scribbling felt grating on your nerves and you felt the urge to strangle the man, cuffs be damned.

But you just glared at him instead. “What is this, an interrogation?”

Dr. Loomis lifted his head and you could see the arrogance in his eyes. “I’ve studied Michael for sixteen years,” he said slowly, “And I’ve never seen him so fascinated by another human being.”

“Maybe you’re just shitty at your job.” You scoffed.

If you weren't already glaring daggers, you would have missed the disapproving look Loomis gave you. "In good time, my theory will be proven." He gave you a smile and gestured to one of the chairs sat in front of his desk. "Michael will come for you. And when he does, I will finally rid the world of that potent evil." He said with a menacing, teeth-filled smile.

You wish you’d stayed home.

[thefangirlfever]

In this lifetime (a Miguel O'hara fanfiction)

Summary : When Miguel had jumped into an other dimension to replace his variant, he had not expected life to be so different…

Tags : fluff, romance, F/M, domestic fluff, kind of slow burn, suggestiveness (I tried to keep it PG-13), angst, mention of death, Miguel being a girl dad, soft Miguel O’hara, idiots in love, he fell first and hard, this is not a self-insert but it kinda is, maybe Miguel os a little OOC (he is just silly sometimes)

Notes : I sacrificed sleeping for this. The idea was too fresh in my mind and I didn’t want to let it go to waste. I’ve been inspired by all these amazing artists who have made horror concept arts about Miguel infiltrating this other dimension and those wondering about the possibility of Miguel’s partner in this dimension. I hope you enjoy my take on this.

English is not my first langage and I wrote this in the middle of the night. Therefore, I apologize in advance for my crimes against the English language.

Word count: 14 285

===============================================

Miguel looked at the shopping list with a highly focused look, way too focused for something as trivial as this but he was on a mission. And it may have been one of the most difficult he ever had to face : being a functioning father. Since he jumped into this new universe after the death of his variant and decided to settle in for the good of his daughter -or rather his variant’s daughter but Miguel tried not to think too much about this- he only had one thing in mind. Making this work.

Not a lot of things had worked in his past life, and it all started back in his childhood. That’s why he had made the promise to himself that he would not make the same mistake with Gabriella. He was no longer Miguel, the messy vigilante, tortured scientist who broke hearts here and there. No, he was a respectable father and this new attitude of him had to shine every time. He would just not allow himself to make any mistake. Even in the way he would follow a grocery list.

Miguel was a new man and that meant no more tantrums, no more stress and just an overflowing sense of calm and control. He had everything under control. He could easily balance the vigilante life with the domestic lifestyle. He would not be the first one doing this. Weren’t most mothers already doing the same ?

But it seemed that the world had already decided to test out his new resolutions. Just when he had stepped in front of his apartment door and passed the badge that allowed him to enter, the digital reader made a red light and a robotic voice said:

“Try again”.

Usually the calm of the robotic voice would have pushed him over, only making his frustration grow even more. But not now. He was a new man. He was ‘cool dad Miguel’ who never throws a tantrum, even when he is tired, locked out of his apartment with his arms filled with groceries on a hot Summer day. He took a deep breath and swiped his badge another time. Must be a small mistake.

“Try again.”

The echo of the mechanical voice definitely got on his nerves.

When he arrived in this dimension, he was amazed and relieved to see that it was not so different from his own. Most of the technologies, slang and even clothes were alike. He had no problem blending in. The only difference was that he couldn’t talk freely to Layla since his variant never had an AI assistant. He didn’t want people to ask questions that could lead them to suspect that he was not who he pretended to be.

Then why was this stupid machine not working?

An other deep breath, an other pass of the badge.

“Try again.”

Miguel groaned in annoyance. He was close to dump the bags on the ground and force the door at this point. He was already late on his schedule at this point of the day; Gabriela would be back from school any minute now and he still had to make dinner… Why wasn’t this working?

“Shock!”, he cursed under his breath before pressing the badge with more strength, trying his best to not let any grocery items fall from the bags. He knew that applying the badge like this would do nothing, since he already had that system in his own dimension. What he also knew was that after three trials, the box would send an alarm signal to the owner of the house.

He was about to curse an other less polite word when the door suddenly opened and to his surprise, the person in front of him was no one he knew. It was not Gabriela. It was a woman, a grown woman. She looked sleepy. Sleepy and pissed off.

Miguel eyed up and down the woman, from her bare feet and oversize shirt to the mess of her hair above a very tired face. He immediately recognized this look for he often had the same one. This was the look of someone who barely managed to sleep because of work, an underlying pressure and an unhealthy stress level. His sympathy went to the woman standing in front of him. Confusion ran through Miguel’s expression, along something else, something like curiosity. His eyes didn’t leave the silhouette of the woman in front of him and they did linger a bit too long on her bare legs to not look rude. A rush of heat ran through his cheeks, and he was pretty sure the summery weather had nothing to do with it, but those slender legs were more likely the cause of it.

He had to internally taunt himself: “Cool dad Miguel wouldn’t pry upon the legs of one of his neighbors this way.” No matter if said legs looked absolutely dashing with their tan, toned and almost endless. Just when his mind was starting to touch upon riskier territory, he lifted his eyes up and all trace of admiration disappeared. Not that the woman’s face was not the type he would usually admire, quite the opposite, but her gaze made it clear that any word from him would put him in great danger of getting his butt kicked.

“You think this is funny?”, the woman asked in a voice that left no room for any hesitation.

She had just spent one of the worst nights of her life, endlessly working under the worst conditions possible and just when she thought she could get some rest and take a nap, she had been woken up by the alarm signal coming from her door. The least person she was expecting to find on the other side of the door was her neighbor, Miguel O’hara. So far the single father had struck her more as the quiet type and not the type who would wake you up from a peaceful nap unannounced.

Right now the guy seemed like he wanted to disappear into the ground. His larger silhouette almost seemed crushed under the weight of her dark gaze and he only stuttered:

“I..I’m sorry...who...what are you doing here?”

At this point, she was suspecting that either the Sun had hit him too hard on his way here or that he was dumb, or maybe playing dumb. She replied with a sarcastic snicker:

“Oh, you mean, what am I doing here in my own apartment?”

Miguel’s brows rose in confusion, although the small grin of the woman only increased the warmth in his cheeks. He hoped she would put it onto the account of the really hot weather.

“Your apartment? There must be a misunderstanding, miss. This is my apartment…” His voice sounded less confident as he kept talking and the woman’s sarcastic grin only widened.

She pointed at the door at the end of the floor, the one facing a large window and replied:

“This is your apartment. Now, if you will excuse me, mister O’hara, I’ve had quite the rough night and I would like to rest now!”

“Wait...I’m so…” before Miguel could even finish his sentence, the door slammed shut in his face. A pack of cookies he had just bought fell to the ground and he couldn’t feel more stupid than in this moment. He didn’t need a mirror to know that he was red to the root of his hair, just like when he was a kid caught red-handed.

He had only just settled in this dimension and he still needed time to adjust. It was not enough that this world looked like his, because it was not his world. And that thought always made him feel sick in his stomach. Unlike his variant, he didn’t know every little detail about Gabriella or their apartment. So, the first night he didn’t find the cabinet with the plates, nor the one with the glasses. He didn’t know Gabriella’s schedule without looking at the planning on the fridge while his variant knew it by heart. He didn’t know what Gabriella’s favorite dish was, nor did he recognize her friend’s names when she mentioned them in a conversation. In these moments, he felt like an intruder and that thought always made him feel nauseous. He had already thought about leaving and returning back to his universe but… he couldn’t leave Gabriella alone. He knew what it felt like to grow up without the care of a father or to be betrayed by him. And he had sworn that he would be better than this.

But he was off to a rough start. Hell, he didn’t even find the door of his apartment. He didn’t even remember meeting his floor neighbor, which was a shame. The woman seemed to know him since she called him by his name but he had no idea of what hers was. Did his variant and her go along well? Now that he thought about it, Miguel has never been the friendly type. He didn’t know the names of his own neighbor in his original dimension. Maybe it was time to change this, and the fact that the said neighbor looked very charming had nothing to do with this decision…

“Dad? What are you doing here?”

Miguel turned around and noticed Gabriela on the apartment floor, holding her pink backpack on her shoulders. The sight almost made all the air in his lungs disappear, just like every single time. He couldn’t believe that she was there, all real and looking just like him. Maybe it could have seemed uncanny to see a mini-him, but every time he saw her dark brown eyes, her freckles and the long strands of chestnut hair, he was just in awe. She may not be his daughter, in the sense that she was not made out of his own flesh, but they looked too much alike for him to care. He was determined to take care of her as if she was his own daughter. Affection swelled in his heart and he replied with a light-hearted tone:

“Mija! You’re home early.”

He gestured in a way to open his arms so she could run to him and hug him, just like they did every day, but he only managed to make more groceries spill from the bags. And yet, he couldn’t care less. It was like, as soon as Gabriella was around, the moody Miguel just disappeared for a new version of him, one that seemed unable to get angry.

“Yes, Sandy’s mom got me home after the …” Gabriella replied while helping him gather the fallen groceries.

Sandy. He knew that name. He could even picture this girl. He was not doing too bad; he was a quick learner. Miguel was pretty sure that in less than a month, he would know everything about this world. His world.

Gabriella looked at the door her father was standing in front of and asked: “Did you talk with the new neighbor?” Miguel could feel the back of his neck burning under the heat of the shame he was feeling. Talking? Kinda. If you call being yelled at by a pretty woman talking, he wouldn’t mind talking a bit more often with her.

“It’s nothing, Gabi.” He would never admit that he had mistaken their apartment’s doors.

“You know she doesn’t like when people come talk to her.”

Oh really? Miguel grinned and replied:

“Yeah, I noticed.”

The little girl grabbed the box of cookies and a wide smile immediately blossomed on her face, making her nose scrunch up and Miguel’s heart melt.

“Those are the ones you wanted, right?”

“Yes, they’re my favorites! Thanks, dad.”

A wave of pride washed over Miguel as his daughter hugged his waist. He was still learning but he was definitely a quick learner.

***************

It’s been almost a week since the accident with his neighbor. Miguel hadn’t had the opportunity to see her again and he found himself looking at the closed door of her apartment every time he passed by. From what Gabriela had told him, she was the grumpy type, barely leaving her flat or speaking to anyone in the building. She moved in a few weeks ago, so it was not surprising that she was still shy. However, in her case shyness and grumpiness were two sides of the same coin.

This afternoon, Miguel had made extra time on his schedule to pick up Gabriela from school. The two had made a short stop at an ice cream shop on their way back home and were now waiting for the elevator while Gabriela’s incessant bubbling entertained him.

If someone had told Miguel that one day he would have the time for such mundane things and enjoy them, he would have not believed it. He never took the time for anything, not even having a decent meal sometimes. So, getting ice cream was not even an option. Hell, the moment he tasted that ice cream, he swore that his taste buds had never tasted anything this good in a long time. Was he really living such a dull life that he almost forgot the taste of ice cream?

Just when the doors of the elevator were about to close, he spotted someone walking in its direction and so he held the door for the newcomer. As soon as he recognized the silhouette, he felt a small tinge of both excitement and apprehension in his heart.

His neighbor thanked him with a sign of her head for holding the door and got into the small cabin without saying a word. She was standing in front of him and once again, he didn’t resist the temptation to eye her up and down. Her hair was tied in the back and she had her earphones on -clearly she was not the most talkative person in this building and she made it quite clear -, everything indicated that she must be coming back from some workout session. Her athleisure clothes highlighted even more the shapeliness of her legs and how long they were. This time, his gaze traveled a bit higher and he noticed her wide hips as well as the patch of bare skin above the hem of her yoga pants.

He must have been quite a desperate case if something as simple as the sight of some lower back and a hint of a belly got him all riled-up, he thought. But it turned out that ice creams were not the only thing Miguel had to deny himself with his busy lifestyle. He doesn’t even remember the last time he flirted with anyone; not that he didn’t get the occasion but he had never been prone to flirting with his colleagues and well, he never saw anyone outside of his colleagues. Needless to say that his last romantic experiences didn’t end well either. He had all the reasons in the world to keep it to himself.

But, does this mean that he couldn’t admire a beautiful woman or even try to engage in conversation with her? Absolutely not.

He was a new man, he was ‘cool dad Miguel’ and this new persona of his could definitely be a little friendlier toward his neighbor, right? There was nothing strange about engaging in a conversation with your friendly neighborhood. Miguel even began to think that he could become the type of guy who can easily chat about the weather. Everything was possible in this new life.

“Mhh, excuse me, miss?”

With her earbuds on, she didn’t hear him at first. It’s only when he cleared his throat that she turned around. Her lips were pursed in what could be either a grimace of disdain or annoyance and she looked absolutely done with everything and everyone.

For some reason, this only made Miguel more of a flustered mess.

“Hum...Hi...I wanted to apologize for the next day…”

Why did he have to stutter? He never stuttered. The piercing gaze of the woman didn’t help his stuttering. It seemed like his words had brought no emotion to her face and he even wondered if she remembered that day. Even Gabriella was staring at him as if he was some madman. Finally, the woman replied:

“It’s okay.” And without saying anything else, she turned back, clearly ending the conversation. Miguel didn’t know exactly what he was waiting for but it was not that. Was his pride hurt that a pretty woman didn’t seem to recognize him? Maybe. Was he a bit annoyed at her attitude? Maybe. Was he finding this attitude really attractive? Definitely.

He didn’t have any time to think about what was pulling him closer to this woman since Gabriella quickly resumed her ranting. Miguel was listening to her without saying a word, a fond smile on his lips as he wondered over her amazement of the whole world. At least, until Gabriella mentioned how impatient she was to do his nails again. That was one of the other tings that surprised him the most about himself -how easily Gabriella got him to do anything. She just needed to do her puppy eyes and he would agree on absolutely anything. Again, if someone had told him he was a girl dad, he would not have believed it. But here he was, playing dolls with his daughter or letting her paint his nails. He was very confident in his masculinity, so these things usually didn’t bother him. At least he thought so. For some reason, he was not too fond of the idea of a pretty woman hearing about his next nail appointment.

It looked like the woman didn’t hear Gabriella’s comment and for some reason, he felt relieved. He gave his daughter a soft smile and nodded his head.

“I want to try the one with the glitters! I’m sure it will look good on you!” Miguel internally winced in pain. It seemed like each sentence Gabriella uttered was like a direct kick into his ego but he knew better and simply replied:

“I’m sure it will, mija.”

“There are glitters in it!” Miguel will never understand the enthusiasm about glitters. He had stopped counting the number of times he found glitters on the pillows of the couch. These things should be banned.

A small chuckle echoed through the elevator. It was definitely not him and it was not his daughter either, so it could only be… Both Gabriela and him look at each other with a look of surprise until the woman slowly turned her head to look at them. And to Miguel’s surprise – and joy – a smug smile had crossed her lips, making one of her dimples pop out a little more. That was one dangerous smile and he understood why she wouldn’t smile too often. Not everyone deserved to see such perfection on a daily basis.

He gathered all his courage -who would have thought the moment you need to be the bravest is not in front of an army of zombies or a super villain but while facing the mocking smile of an attractive woman? - and tried to talk. But the words got stuck in his throat and before he could say anything, the doors opened and she left them alone in the elevator.

Miguel stayed frozen for a few seconds until Gabriela pulled on his hands and finally got him back to their apartment. He couldn’t resist giving one last look toward the door of the mysterious woman.

********

Miguel would only catch a glimpse of the woman during the next few days and he never had the chance to initiate the conversation, not that he knew what he would say. If it was like the last time, he would probably just end up stuttering a bunch of nonsense while getting lost in those deep brown eyes of hers like a man doomed to die in quicksands.

So, when he saw her entering the elevator that Tuesday afternoon, he made himself the promise to not speak a word and keeping it low. He didn’t need to embarrass himself more than he already did, twice. The woman seemed to recognize him as she nodded her head in his direction, which both scared him and made him feel butterflies in his stomach. He could notice more details about her as she stood by his side in the elevators. She had let her hair loose today and they bounced around her face in thick curls; glass frames in turtle-shell sat on top of her crooked nose and she was wearing one of these power suits with large shoulders. The color highlighted the glow of her skin and he couldn’t help but notice the subtle fragrance of her perfume.

But overall, he was not staring and he was definitely chill. Very chill. And laid-back. Not at all wondering what it would feel like to smell this scent directly from her skin.

To his surprise, he noticed her sneaking a quick glance in his direction from time to time. He subconsciously straightened up his posture –he had stopped counting the number of times he had been called out for his terrible back posture – and puffed out his chest. He would probably smack himself in the back of his head later for acting like some peacock. But it seemed like her eyes were more drawn towards his hands, especially the glittered pink nail polish on them. A smile curled up her lips, and this time it didn’t seem as mocking as it was the last time. Just when he was about to break the heavy silence between them, she said in a small voice- it was almost a whisper and he thought he had misheard her for a few seconds:

“She was right; it looks good on you.”

The doors opened with a small ‘ding’ and Miguel found himself dumbfounded once again, his jaw hanging low as he whispered in a hushed voice “Thank you”.

******

Miguel was heading toward his apartment building, more than eager to throw himself on the couch, and probably just dive into an endless slumber after that long day at work. Just when he entered the building, he noticed two things. First of all, there was a small sign on the elevator indicating that it was broken. And reading this sign, standing there, her arms overflowing with grocery bags stood his cute neighbor. As he stepped closer, he could hear her groan in annoyance. He didn’t need to think much before addressing her in a faint voice:

“Can I help you?”

Not only did he manage to talk to her but he also didn’t stutter. So, that was a win. The woman turned around and maybe it was his delusion speaking, but her smile seemed even more genuine when she saw him. Or maybe she was just happy that someone would help her out…

“Thanks but I’m okay.”, she politely declined his offer even though she was clearly not okay. Miguel didn’t dare saying anything and he didn’t need to. As soon as she made a step, she almost dropped one of her grocery bags down the floor. Thanks to his superhuman reflexes, Miguel was quick to catch it and she couldn’t deny that she in fact needed his help. Miguel sensed that it costed her to admit this and truly speaking, this was something he could understand and respect; being himself unable to ask for help even if his life depended on it.

The two of them climbed the stairs in silence and Miguel couldn’t resist peaking at the inside of the bags he was carrying. He had no idea on how this woman was living since she was always so secretive and it seemed like no one could get a glimpse of her life behind this closed door. In one of the bags he could spot a box of eggs, frozen pizza rolls and among other snacks one green vegetable. This made him laugh quietly as his own groceries were not so different when he used to live alone, before Gabriella. Not that he minded adding more vegetables to his own diet now. He also noticed a few cans of tuna in the other bag and multiple period pads. His cheeks instantly flared up at the sight, which made him curse himself internally for that. He was a grown man for God’s sake and a scientist. But periods were not what got him reacting this way, it was more likely the fact that he could catch a glimpse of such an intimate part of her life, when he even barely knew this woman.

He forced his eyes to focus somewhere else and they landed on her back and drifted towards the swaying of her hips as she moved up the stairs. Not good for his blushing.

They finally stopped at the right floor and he watched her opening the door. For the first time he noticed the small charm that she used as a keychain. It was one of these small Japanese cats with one of their paws raised to their head and a peaceful smile on their face. He smiled at the sight, finding this little touch of personality quite endearing.

The two of them parted away after she had thanked him and Miguel didn’t dare saying anything more than a polite “You’re welcome” but he was sure he had heard something, or someone, moving on the other side of the door.

******

After only two months in this dimension, Miguel could proudly say that he was fitting in nicely. He knew Gabriella’s schedule by heart, he had met all of her friends and he didn’t mistake the door of his apartment with the door of someone else anymore. Of course this didn’t mean that he knew everything about Gabriella or this world yet. But he had understood that he would need a lot of patience and that was fine by him. Overall he was satisfied by this new life, and it was easy to see. Or course, it was tiring to juggle between saving the multiverse on a daily basis and being a single father, but he managed to make it work. He had even fallen into a comforting routine.

Among all the small rituals he had now in this life – like doing Gabriella’s hair every morning before school, making a lunchbox for the two of them every night or their weekly movie nights – one of his favorites was seeing her...

At this point, Miguel had accepted the fact that he had a crush on his neighbor.

There was nothing wrong in having a small crush, even at his age after all. That’s what he liked to tell himself every time he was delusional. He was pretty sure that the feeling wasn’t mutual and that she was way out of his league, but a man could dream. Either way, he already had too much on his plate, right? Romance has never been a part of the plan anyway.

Then, how come he always ended up acting like a fool when this woman approached him? He had a phd on neuro-physic, had practically invented the inter-dimensional travel and was overall a pretty smart guy but she just had a way to send him back to default mode with one look. He clearly remembered that day he saw her approaching with her wet umbrella and the only thing he managed to say was:

“It’s raining, huh?”

Like, no shit Sherlock, of course it’s raining, he immediately thought. He genuinely wondered how this woman was not already fed up with him but she seemed to hold as much as patience as phlegm in her. He even caught her smiling in his direction from time to time, clearly feeding in his delusion. She didn’t seem to find him as annoying as he found himself and they even ended up chatting a bit.

But most of the time, he would only see her in the morning when he was heading off to work, just when she seemed to come back from work. He guessed that she must have some type of jobs with unusual schedules and this was only confirmed the day he caught a glimpse of her still wearing her scrubs. She must have had a rough night of work and Miguel felt even worse for the day he had woken her up. Her hair was tied in a tight up-do and dark bags settled under her eyes. He was not looking any better after spending a whole night in an other dimension trying to catch an anomaly. The two of them exchanged one knowing look inside the elevator and after Miguel asked “Rough night again, huh?”, she found herself chuckling a bit. This was the kind of sound that he could listen to on repeat for days, he thought.

When he first heard the knock on his door, Miguel wasn’t expecting to find her waiting on his doorstep at this time of the day. But here she was, dressed in that dainty sundress with a flower pattern that just perfectly highlighted the curves of her shoulders and hugged her belly tightly, asking him to borrow some eggs. At this point, he was close to ask for some mercy on his poor mind and body but he managed to calmly give her what she had asked him for. With this dress on, he would have given her all the eggs in the world if she had asked for.

The second time, she came asking for some flour. The third time, it was sugar. Surely, she would soon find herself out of things to ask for, which scared him a bit. He liked these moments when he would see her at the most unexpected times, asking him in a quiet voice to help her with those big brown eyes playing tricks on his brain. After some time, he slowly realized that she must be doing all of this as an excuse to see him; that or she was preparing to open a bakery of some sort.

She always made sure to let enough time between each visit to not look too suspicious but she was fooling no one, not even herself. And one day, Miguel had the utmost pleasure of seeing the subtle hint of a delicate blush on her cheeks when he joked about the fact that they literally had a supermarket down the street. She grumbled something he barely understood and he thought he would never get tired of seeing her like this.

*****

So, when he heard someone knocking at the door this Sunday morning, he immediately jumped on his feet and ran toward the door, hoping it would be her. And it was. But this time she seemed slightly more concerned and flustered.

“Hum...sorry to bother you but I have a problem with the water at my place… Do you think you could maybe take a look at this? It’s okay if you can’t...I just didn’t know who else to ask in this building…”

Miguel practically melted on the spot when he heard her asking for help. It was still early on the day and she was still in her pajamas. She had hastily thrown a robe over her clothes and her face was practically covered by a thick mass of heavy curls, the tip of her nose pointing up out of this beautiful mess. It took him all his willpower to not lean close to her face and start kissing her there, right on the tip of her nose. He had never been a romantic person but there was just something in her that got him enthralled by every detail he found on her body, even the smallest or most insignificant. Not that anything was insignificant with her, whether it was her laugh, her smile, the depth of her voice…

That’s how Miguel found himself lying on her bathroom floor, looking at the underside of the sink. He had been a bit impressed when he first stepped into her apartment. The place was a bit smaller than his and he found himself feeling quite comfortable with the muffled atmosphere. The gentle lights didn’t trigger his very sensitive eyes and he was very glad for this. It seemed like she had settled very well inside this apartment as it was filled with a lot of stuff already; she seemed to be more on the maximalist side of things, and it looked very lively overall. Even the bathroom had a certain level of messiness that he found charming. He quietly laughed when he noticed the huge mass of green plants hanging from different pots, some of their vines even running along the showers walls.

“I’m really sorry for the mess.”, she quickly apologized but he gave her a reassuring look as he began to fix the leaky pipes. He didn’t find this a problem, quite the opposite. He was glad to discover so many new sides of her after being so long in the dark.

He was so focused on the task at hand that he didn’t hear her coming closer, watching him work in silence. The small look of admiration she gave him filled him with pride and a softer feeling that dispersed through his chest.

“Is it bad?”

She had asked while leaning over his shoulders and as she did so, he could catch a whiff of her scent. It was not the same as in the elevator. This time, it was not some sort of expensive and delicate fragrance that perfumed her skin but her natural scent. It was a very heady scent with some spicy notes in it. He could discern something like cinnamon and an other more delicate and dainty scent close to vanilla. His hypersensitivity made the sensation even stronger and his nostrils flared up while he fought the urge to pull her closer to inhale deeply this scent.

“No, it’s nothing. We also got this sometimes at the apartment. You just gotta make sure those pipes don’t get clogged too often…” His words died on his lips when he noticed just how close they were now. Her warm breath was brushing against the back of his ear and he could feel the small hair on the back of his neck standing up. He suddenly realized just how small the bathroom actually was as their bodies were suddenly very close to one another and he tried to move away. Due to his larger frame, he only managed to hit his head against the edge of the sink. He was expecting her to laugh or at least crack a smile but she seemed genuinely worried as the impact had made some of the stuff on the sink fall.

“Are you okay?”

Without giving him any time to reply, she leaned a bit closer and her fingers carefully pushed some strands of hair on top of his head to check if he had any concussion. Miguel felt like her fingertips were directly sending a jolt of electricity down his whole body and to the tip of his hair. He sat there, quietly, letting her slender fingers rummage through his locks, trying to keep his gaze focused somewhere else, anywhere else than the pleasing sensation of her warmth so close to him.

She had insisted on thanking him with a cup of coffee and no matter how hard he had protested, she managed to make him seat on one of the stools in the kitchen. Miguel was still a bit flustered from their little moment earlier and he was trying his best to not stare too much at her, so his gaze traveled through the apartment. That’s when it hits him. Everything looked strangely old inside this place, or was clearly thrifted. Miguel knew that his original dimension and this one were really advanced in terms of technology compared to many others and therefore, a lot of the items and devices peopled used on the daily were highly futuristic and sometimes seem soulless… But here, everything, even the smallest trinket, seemed to have a soul, a story. He liked how everything seemed to belong to different eras and seemed frozen in time. The place was like a small, comforting bubble of warmth in the chaos of this futuristic raging city.

When she presented him a warm cup of coffee, they both exchanged a smile and she couldn’t help herself but joke:

“It’s not the finest China I have…”

“It’s perfect.”

Miguel made sure to carefully hold the cup as it seemed even older than both of them combined. He gave the apartment one last look and his eyes stopped on a fuzzy shape that he hadn’t noticed before. The thing moved and two pointy ears appeared from the depth of its black fur. Then two round eyes stared at him from the living room.

“Or should I rather say that it’s purr-fect.” Miguel chuckled, knowing that his lame dad joke was either a hit or miss and to his delight, she chuckled even more. His grip on the cup went a bit more shaky every time he heard her laughing.

The cat at the other end of the living room yawned and stretched on top of one the numerous pillows thrown on the couch. With a place like this, he definitely understood why she would never leave her home. He didn’t even want to leave himself.

****

“Look, dad, a cat! He is so cute.”, Gabriella cooed while looking through the kitchen’s window. There was indeed a small, fuzzy black cat resting on top of their balcony, a sluggish look on his face while his tail swayed from side to side in the air.

Miguel smiled as he recognized the said cat. However the cat didn’t seem to recognize him and he ran away as soon as Miguel made a move to open the window to Gabriela’s disappointment.

Nevertheless the cat came back a few times and soon even Miguel was smitten by this little fuzzball. There was even something in the mean looks the cat was giving him that reminded him of his owner. Even the shape of their eyes were almost alike.

Miguel could be in the middle of cooking when he would suddenly hear the cat meowing on the other side of the window, begging for some leftover, as if he wasn’t being fed already enough. To his surprise, Miguel found himself feeding the cat from time to time, even buying some designed snacks for him since he wasn’t sure that the feline could eat everything.

As soon as Gabriela had managed to pet the small feline and he had purred in her arms, Miguel knew it was over. She would beg him to adopt one cat and he was right. For the first time, he had to refuse his daughter something, no matter how much she would plead with her hangdog look or her sulky face, there was no way they could handle a cat here.

But Miguel had to admit the small feline had a certain charm to himself. He might look cold and unapproachable at first but as soon as people gained his trust, he was almost clingy. Like someone else Miguel knew too well… He even found the cat waiting for him on top of their building when he would come back from a mission late at night as Spider-Man. It felt good to see someone waiting for him, even if it was just a cat. It was like a link between the two lives he was living. Because there was no way he would tell anyone else about his secret identity.

***

“Why the glasses?”

“I’m sorry? What?”

Miguel had perfectly heard the question but he didn’t know he would answer it yet. She had asked him quite abruptly this question and he was a bit unsettled to say the least. Coupled with her most innocent-looking eyes, he was unable to think for a clever answer. The truth was that Miguel had to wear these glasses because of his mutation. His eyes were more sensitive than most people’s and if he didn’t want to end up with excruciating headaches, he had to result to this.

He stuttered:

“I...hum...when the Sun’s a little too bright, I end up having migraines and it’s very painful…”

Her silence made him feel a bit more uncomfortable and he kept sinking more into convoluted explanations:

“It’s like a condition...from my mother...hum...it’s very rare…”

It was a rather vague explanation but she seemed satisfied by it, or at least acted like she was. While they were walking to the doors of their apartments, Miguel couldn’t resist asking her why she asked this question in the first place. To which she replied:

“I just thought it was a shame that you had to cover your eyes like that…”

****

Miguel was quietly laughing as he looked at the different brands of snacks in front of him. The racks of the supermarket were overflowing with different varieties of chips, candies and probably enough sugar to kill an elephant; exactly what he needed. Gabriella was off to a sleepover with her friends and he finally got the whole evening for himself. What was making him laugh was the fact that all these brand’s names were almost the same as in his universe, but not exactly quite the same. It was often a small letter that changed the whole name and this has always been something funny to him to look at. It truly was fascinating to see how many changes there were between all the different universes, and yet, everything was part of something bigger and united. Like some sort of web.

He finally chose a pack of chips and an even larger one of marshmallows. A small chuckle that he immediately recognized rang behind him and he slowly turned around to face her. Of course they were leaving in the same neighborhood, so it was inevitable that they would end up shopping at the same place. Miguel gave her a stupid, little giddy smile and asked:

“Someone finally came to buy her own eggs and flour?”

Seeing the blush that spread all over her cheeks, Miguel felt very satisfied with himself. Not that he minded her visits at the apartment, but at this point she must know it. She was holding a basket with her own groceries and Miguel couldn’t help but smile when he saw all the cans of tuna she had bought for the cat. He assumed she just came back from either one of her yoga classes or a jogging because she looked a bit disheveled and her face was still red from the effort. Her skin looked very flushed around her face but what caught his attention was the way her skin seemed to glisten from all this sweating. He was clearly not about to complain about the view. Was there even a moment when this woman was not stunning? Must be something in the air of this dimension…

She looked at the bags of marshmallow he was holding and her smile only widened.

“Let me guess, movie nights?” Miguel watched her trying to grab something on the highest shelf and despite her more than respectable height, he had to help her. When he handed her the small box, he finally replied:

“Not really. I’m just planning on stuffing my face with as much snacks as I can. No particular reason.”

“I’m sure Gabriella gonna love this program.”, she replied with a soft voice that barely showed any sign of mockery. He had always noticed how she seemed to have a soft spot for Gabriella. Honestly, who wouldn’t? Maybe he wasn’t very objective, but he could proudly say that his daughter was like some sort of angel. And it seemed like she could even agree on that.

“Gabriella is not here tonight. She’s at her friend’s place.”

“And that’s a good news?”, she asked with a bit of a smile. She must have noticed how slightly disappointed he sounded while saying so. To be quite frank, Miguel was glad that his daughter had friends to spend time with. She was a very sociable little girl, unlike him when he was younger. He just couldn’t help but think that after waiting so much time to have his own family, he wanted to make the most of it. Maybe he was also a bit too protective sometimes, which apparently was not exactly his variant’s type. He was sure the variant made a good job raising Gabriella, especially since he was alone, but Miguel knew better than this. The dangers of the world were nothing new or strange to him and he wanted Gabriella to stay away from these as long as possible. To some extent, he wanted her to stay the little girl she was. Not in some creepy way but he had never seen her as a baby; he had missed her early years too and he wanted to enjoy these last years with her before she would enter high school and then leave for college… This thought alone made his head spin. For one of the first time in his life, he was able to make plans for the future.

He knew that this was just a slumber party but so many things could happen while she was away from the house. What if she fell down some stairs at her friend’s house? What if she burned herself while they were making s’more? What if she had an allergic reaction? What if…

The woman put one of her hands on his arm and asked him if he was okay. Miguel must have looked like someone who was spiraling down his train of thoughts.

“Yes, thank you. I’m perfectly fine. It’s just that…”

He didn’t need to say more. With an understanding smile, she replied:

“It’s her first slumber party and you’re afraid to let her out of the house?”

Miguel wasn’t sure that it was Gabriella’s first slumber party. She must have had many others before but for him this was totally new. All of this was new to him, just like the contact of her warm hands on his bare arm. “Focus, Miguel, focus.” He cleared his throat and asked:

“Is it that obvious?”

A cheeky smile curled up her lips, and Miguel could swear he saw more understanding in it than just amusement at his situation:

“You look like my parents when I used to go on slumber parties. I remember my dad willing to come pick me up at any hour of the night and my mom who could barely fall asleep if she knew I wasn’t at home.”

She even sounded nostalgic when talking about this. Miguel had the feeling that he was looking at a new part of her personality through a tiny window opened just for him.

The only problem was that he was pretty sure that ‘cool dad Miguel’ was not the type to spend hours getting his daughter ready before an innocent slumber party and stressing over everything and nothing. That wasn’t very ‘cool dad’ of him and he must have looked like one of those overprotective parents who would wrap their kids in bubble wrap if they could.

Was she viewing him like that?

“I think I understand your parents…”, he simply replied and to his relief she agreed with him.

“I never said I didn’t understand them. I mean, yes, it was frustrating sometimes to not be allowed to go out or go to some parties or even have a curfew while everyone was outside…”

Miguel’s chest tightened as he imagined a teenage Gabriella wanting to go at a party. That would be hypocritical of him to deny her this but at the same time, he knew he would spend his entire night worrying about her.

Was Gabriella frustrated with him being over-protective? Was he a little bit too much?

“...but one day I understood that they were doing this for my own good. In their clumsy, sometimes very awkward way, they just wanted to protect me.”

Her last words brought some comfort upon Miguel’s heart and he was thankful that she was willing to talk and listen to him about these things. For most of his life, Miguel had never been a father or even a parental figure to anyone and he never had the chance to learn this from his own parents.

“I just don’t want her to resent me for acting this way. I’m glad she is going out and making friends, really… But...I don’t know, maybe this is going too fast?”

Like, literally too fast. He was expecting a strong reaction from his interlocutor, but she only smiled even more softly.

“Trust me, she won’t resent you.”

“Hod do you know that?”

“Because I’ve seen the way you are with her. She is lucky to have a father like you.”

If Miguel could have combusted right on the spot, he would have done it. His face was probably the same shade of red as Gabriela’s ladybug cuddy toy and he could feel even the back of his ears heating up. How embarrassing would it be for a grown man to have a meltdwon in the middle of the snack alley? He didn’t want to try his luck and find out, so he took a hold of himself and managed to keep his composure. First, she was touching him and then she was giving him one of the most beautiful compliment he would ever dream of...

“That’s...thank you. You’re...you’re being too nice.”

“I’m not. I wouldn’t be saying this if it wasn’t the truth.”

Her firm tone left no room for any doubt or way for him to talk back. This was like a nice pat to his ego but also very reassuring words to hear. It was not every day that Miguel got praised this way and he wouldn’t complain about getting this kind of praises by her, out of all people. Miguel appreciated how brutally honest she could be at times for it only made this type of moments even more enjoyable and he was sure she wasn’t lying to him just to make him feel nice.

“Thank you.”

She nodded in acknowledgment while the two of them moved toward the checkout. While Miguel was putting all his stuff on the conveyor belt, he saw her looking at a few newspaper put near the cash register. He cringed as soon as he was the front page. A large picture of him in his Spider-suit, in full color was on the first page.

Miguel knew he had to protect his identity but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t help the people from this realm. Just like in his own Nueva-York, the city’s underbelly was a paradise for any kind of criminals and the traffic of the rapture wasn’t helping either. He just couldn’t stand there and let this city be run by crime, even if it meant sacrificing some of his time with his daughter to run off in the middle of the night. Every time Miguel thought about the death of his variant he was filled with so much frustration. The fact that an innocent man could have been killed this way in the middle of the street and left for dead without anyone willing to help him really strained his faith in humanity. He couldn’t let that happen again; he wouldn’t let any criminal in this city make an orphan of a kid.

However, he was aware that some people were not very found of him and especially the way he was not collaborating with the police. But after all, it has always been part of Spider-Man’s identity. He had to work hard in order to gain people’s trust.

He couldn’t help but look at her face while she was looking at the front cover and when he saw a small smile on her lips, he really thought that was over. He will definitely have a melt-down at the checkout.

The title of the paper reads: “Spider-Man, criminal or hero?” and Miguel was curious about her answer.

“So, what do you think?”, he asked in a small voice. She looked back at him and Miguel was again about to lose it when he saw the pink hue covering her cheeks.

“You mean, about Spider-Man? I mean, is there even a need to ask this question? Of course he is a hero. I mean, before moving in Nueva York I was very anxious and everyone was warning me about this city. But since he is here...everything changed and for the better.”

Take a deep breath, Miguel. Just take a deep breath. Just don’t look at her in the eyes and everything will be fine. Of course, he looked at her in the eyes and he almost lost it. If this fool didn’t know better, he would have thanked her for this.

“You don’t think so?”, she asked and Miguel panicked a bit, trying to find a good answer without cringing at himself.

“I...I think that what he is doing is admirable. But I don’t know if he would consider himself a hero…”

“Then how would he see himself?”, she asked in an interested voice. Miguel swallowed hard before replying:

“I think, and that’s just an hypothesis of course, that sometimes he just feels alone… He probably didn’t have much of a choice when it comes to being who he is and he probably just feels like a guy who tries his best…”

The silence that followed his words made him immediately regret what he just said and he was about to back off:

“It’s just an hypothesis of course…”

“I’ve never thought about it this way…”, she replied slowly. “I hope he doesn’t feel as lonely as you think he is… He doesn’t deserve this.”

At this point of the conversation, Miguel’s legs were very mushy and his brain had some trouble forming even a simple sentence. The way she was looking at this picture of him made his limbs go all jittery and he wished that she could look at him this way. If she did one day, he would die happy.

They kept chatting all the way back home and when they finally parted way, Miguel felt like there was an unresolved tension in the air. They both stood in front of the door and looked at each other as if they were waiting for the other one to say it, to make the first step. He was alone tonight and so was she. What’s wrong in asking your friendly neighbor if they wanted to spend a nice evening with you? Nothing. Then why couldn’t he just invite her to come over?

He knew that as soon as the door would be closed on them, he would barely hold himself together. He would just burst into a million pieces like a broken puzzle just to let her build him back together. He would let her do anything she wanted with him, whether she desired to break him or just pamper him. He was hers without any doubt and that thought both made his heart race faster and ache. When was the last time he allowed himself to be this vulnerable around someone? What if he had to leave in the middle of all of this because of a mission? What if the feeling wasn’t mutual and he came off as pushy? What if she didn’t like him back?

Miguel felt like years of self-doubt and hesitation all rushed back to him. He suddenly remembered the fact that he was a mess, someone who didn’t really belong here and that his body was the one of a mutant. How would he explain the talons on his hands or even his fangs?

And that’s how the two of them parted away that night. Miguel knew that whatever choice he would make, he would regret it.

****

Miguel smacked an other kiss on Gabriella’s cheek before leaving his apartment. He was in a rush and under a lot of pressure as well as an unhealthy amount of caffeine. He hadn’t slept that much last night because of a mission he had in an other universe and when he was expecting to spend this day at home with Gabriella, chilling and rewatching one of their favorite movies together, he had been called at work for an emergency. If not for his brother, Gabriel, he would have had to leave his daughter alone at home all day.

Maybe it was time for him to find a baby-sitter. He knew Gabriella would hate this idea. She was already ten and she would argue that she would be fine alone. He didn’t doubt her maturity any minute but an accident could happen so fast… Even if he didn’t really like the idea of letting a stranger come into his house, he had no other choice. He just needed to find someone he really trusted enough to take care of Gabriella, and someone Gabriella appreciated.

He was very much lost in his thoughts when he heard a soft voice greeting him. Miguel lifted his eyes from his shoes and when he saw her, his breath almost left his lungs. She must have been going out today because she looked all dolled-up. His voice croaked out a small “Hi” and suddenly all thoughts about baby-sitters or work left his mind. The off the shoulder dress made his imagination run wild while his senses succumbed to the sugary aroma of her perfume. She was so close to him in this small cabin, so close he could run his hands over the satin of her dress if he just stretched his hand a little further, and yet so far away like some forbidden fruit. The memory of this aborted evening together had left a sour taste in the back of his mouth and he resented himself for chickening out every single time he found himself alone with her.

They engaged in some light chatting and Miguel couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of jealousy when she mentioned going out with friends this afternoon. He couldn’t really afford to be jealous since he was nothing to her and was too much of a coward to make the first move. He also knew how shitty of him that was to feel such things but he couldn’t deny it. The longer he kept looking at her in this dress, the more he wanted to pull her closer to him and keep her wrapped in his arms for days and days. It’s been months since he met her now and he was still at the first step of it all, which consisted of daydreaming about her and immediately feeling ashamed of his fantasies. This woman was turning him into a mess.

“It’s very rare to see you out there on a Saturday? I hope nothing bad happened…”

How sweet and considerate of her… If only his attraction to this woman depended only of the physical attraction he was feeling for her, this would be easier. He would just put it on the account of all these months he spend alone, living like some monk. But it was more than that. Miguel didn’t just want some easy hook-up with her. He wanted to wake up with her every morning; to have her taking part in their movie nights with Gabriella; to let him braid her hair before she went to work; to love her… He wanted so many things. He wanted that wit, that laugh, that tenderness of her into his life.

“No...it’s just that...we are working on something and they needed me at work… It’s...it’s complicated…”

Miguel didn’t want to bore her with his work stories but every single time he did so, she just stayed quiet and let him dump his worries on her shoulders. He felt terrible because he knew she already had a lot going on her side but at the same time, it felt good to have someone listening to him and even understanding him.

“Hopefully my brother managed to get some time off today to watch Gabriella. But I think next time I will need to find some baby-sitter… Do you think I could place an ad at the supermarket?”

“I could do it.”

“Placing an ad?”

“No, I mean, watching over Gabriella.”

Her proposition took him by surprised and he was too stunned to speak for a few seconds. This could be the right solution after all. Gabriella and her seemed to get along very well and she had her way around children with her job. He also knew she was someone he could trust…

“But I don’t want to bother you…”

“You’re never bothering me, Miguel.”

***

It was past midnight and Miguel was afraid to go back home, just like when he was a teenager coming home after his curfew at the Alchemax Institute. Only this time, he was worried for different reasons. He had managed to leave work early today but due to some troubles in one of the worst neighborhood in town, he had to put on his Spider suit and go, barely having the time to call for his neighbor to watch over Gabriella. He had thought all of this would be over soon, but it turned out he was wrong. He felt terrible, knowing he had to ask her for her help in such a short amount of time and he was coming back home way too late without looking suspicious. And if that wasn’t already enough, he was spotting a pretty bad bruise on the right side of his face.

When he entered his living room, he found her sitting on the couch, her legs under her body, wrapped in a cozy blanket, fighting off sleep with a book in hand. This triggered his sense of protectiveness and he just wished he could run to her and take her in his arms. He couldn’t believe she was waiting for him all this time.

“Hi…”

She was a little startled by the sudden intrusion and she jumped on the couch. She turned around and as soon as she saw his bruised face, her smile disappeared. Miguel tried to act as if nothing was wrong, asking if Gabriella was already asleep, to which she slowly nodded her head:

“Yes...yes she is. But...what happened to your face?”

“Oh this?”, he said while touching the bruise with his fingertips, “Nothing. I just...tripped.”

This poor explanation didn’t convince her and she was back on her feet in a matter of seconds. Her hands immediately cupped his face and her fingertips brushed against his bruise. The very focused and serious expression on her face made him imagine that this was what she was looking like when working. He always guessed that she must be a great nurse but he was definitely certain of it when he saw all the care she put while handling his beaten up face. He barely felt her touch, except for when she pushed her fingers a little more against the skin that was already turning purple.

He made a soft sound that he wasn’t even aware he could do and that made him feel terribly ashamed of himself and very self-conscious. The sound was between the gasp and the moan and made his loins burn immediately with the need to release all the heat trapped in his body.

“Shh...it’s okay. It will take maybe a week or two to heal but that will be fine…”, her soft voice comforted him and he had to fight the urge to just rest his head against the palm of her delicate hand.

She went to the kitchen to grab a bag of ice for his face and Miguel released a soft groan when her fingers left his cheek. He must really be down bad for acting like such a fool. When she went back and put the bag against his face, he immediately felt relief wash over him.

“I’m sorry for being home late…”, he whispered after a few awkward minutes of silence.

“It’s okay. We had a great evening together with Gabriella. She is really cute.”

“Yes, she is.”

He was growing a bit more uncomfortable under her gaze. There was no way she believed his lie and he knew it. But he couldn’t tell her the truth and risking her safety. Little did he know she already had some suspicions about him at this point and if he was suspecting it, he decided to let it go. He was too tired to have an argument or even a conversation tonight and he just rested his back against the couch, his head thrown over the pillows. The only thing her remembers before falling asleep was her voice:

“Please, be careful, Miguel.”

***

Not all Miguel’s missions implied fighting off goons or criminals. Sometimes he would have to rescue people trapped in a burning building or from any other type of disaster honestly. And today was one of these days. As soon as he had heard that a train had deviated from its usual route and was about to crash down the bridge in the middle of the city, he dropped everything he was doing and ran off to the place of the accident. Apparently one person was still trapped inside the wagon.

Miguel moved as carefully as he could, using his webs to swing from one part of the bridge to an other before landing on top of the train. A woman was holding one of the bars for her dear life and she looked so pale, he thought she was about to pass out from fear. It was true that the whole thing had stopped at a really concerning height. If the train just fell, this would kill them both instantly and this was without even talking about the shock of hitting the cold water underneath.

When he recognized the face of the woman, Miguel’s anxiety skyrocketed and it took all his willpower to not call for her and stay calm. He needed to keep a cold head and not let his emotions take over him during a mission, which was something he had learned to do years ago. He carefully slipped into the wagon through a broken window and made his way towards her, using his palm to stick to the wall.

“Hey, are you alright?”

She didn’t answer. Her gaze was locked on the dark water underneath and Miguel immediately guessed that she must have been scared of heights.

“Hey, look at me. It’s going to be alright.”

The woman turned his head toward him and her expression really shattered his calm behavior. He had never seen her so distressed and scared. She was usually so calm and collected, even wearing a slug smile from time to time. There was none of that now as her eyes were open wide and her lips quivering in fear. Just when she was about to say something, a strong gust of wind blew against the wagon and the fragile structure lost its balance and hung more in the void. She pushed a scream of pure terror while nervous tears rolled down her cheeks.

Miguel jumped as fast as he could across the train and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. He was no longer thinking as Miguel but as Spider-Man. Usually, this contact between the two of them would have made him flustered but not today. His grip around her waist tightened and he pulled her closer to his sturdy chest.

“Just close your eyes, okay, and trust me.”

His warmth wrapped around her as she closed her eyes and her own arms wrapped around him.

“That’s right. You’re doing just fine.”

When he was sure she was holding him tight enough, Miguel carefully took the two of them out of this hazard situation and shot one of his web toward a pillar of the bridge.

“We’re gonna move just a bit, okay?”

“What?”

She didn’t have the time to voice her concerns that Miguel jumped from the platform of the train while this last one dived into the water. Unlike what she was expecting, no sound of terror left her lips when she felt their bodies swinging through the air. Even if she was truly terrified, she trusted him and either way, her body wasn’t able to move from his tight grip and her fear. She just nuzzled her face deep onto the crook of his neck while holding him tightly. The wind blew through her hair with force and Miguel wished he could have felt it brushing against his skin, without the mask blocking it. He was a bit more relaxed now that they were out of this situation and he basked himself in the warmth of her body, certain that he would never have an other opportunity to feel it. The scent of hair made him feel ill with a fever so intense he never encountered one before. The need to just dive his face into those luscious curls was getting too strong for him and he needed to collect himself asap.

When he finally landed on the ground, he made sure to gently let her down. His voice was a bit hoarse after all of this when he asked her is she was okay.

But no matter how much his voice had changed, she definitely recognized it.

***

The sudden flash of a flashlight blinded him for a few seconds and he groaned in annoyance. Miguel was still wearing his Spider suit and he was panicking, hoping he could make it clear out of this situation from anyone who caught him going back to his place this late at night. He was just hoping that it wouldn’t be Gabriella because he knew he wouldn’t be able to lie to her. He wouldn’t even be able to lie to...

“I knew it!”

Shock! It was her. Miguel’s eyes squinted in the direction of the silhouette holding the light. Long curly hair, loose bathrobe and thick brows furrowing into a concerned expression. He was done.

“That’s not what it looks like.”

“You’re dressed as Spider-Man in the middle of the night, on top of our apartment building, Miguel. What does it look like to you?”

He was not sure if she was angry, frustrated or maybe both. Miguel tried to explain himself but after seeing him jumping from a building to an other and using his web, he would just lose his time denying it. She had recognized his voice, she was suspicious since the day she mentioned his glasses. There was no escape for him.

“I...okay, you got me there but…” Why was he acting like he needed to apologize? He did nothing wrong? Yes, he did lie to her and hid the truth from her but it was for her own good. He never intended to hurt her feelings or make her feel like he wanted to keep her out of his life.

“But what? Do you really think I was this stupid to not connect the dots?”

“I’ve never thought you were stupid!”

“Do you realize just how worried I was?”

This time, he didn’t have any word to reply to her. His mouth just hung low and he was breathing out some deep huffs. Did he hear this right?

“You...you were worried?”

Her fists tightened into balls and she kept on ranting:

“Of course I was worried! How do you think I felt every time I saw you coming back late and all beaten up! I even imagined the worst case scenarios, Miguel! I swear to God, you’re gonna make me go crazy one day! I just…”

Before an other word could leave her lips, Miguel put into action his other plans for them. He didn’t think of anything while doing this. But the fact that she cared so much about him, when he has spend his whole life thinking no one would and that he was worthy of such attention, had broken his last resistance. If she knew who he truly was and didn’t mind it, she might as well know what he was thinking and feeling.

With one swift move of hi wrist, Miguel launched a web at her and pulled her closer until she ended up in his arms, all pressed against his solid chest and stammering heart. And without giving it a second thought, his lips found her in a kiss he wished he could have given her sooner. His hands cupped her face, his thumbs playing along the edges of her jaw, holding back as much as he can to cover it in kisses and let his hands slide down her neck.

He wished he could devour her with his kiss, make up for all the time they lost. His heart practically bursts out of his chest when he feels her indulging into the kiss, tilting her head to the side so they could deepen the kiss. Her hands grabbed his suit tightly while she moves her plump lips against his. They are breathing into each other’s mouth and their bodies molding against one another, making him feel weak in the knees. Her soft curves brush against his body and he can’t fight back the urgency of this situation. Some strands of her hair get tangled with his fingers and he wants more. So much more in this moment.

They both had to break the kiss at some point because the heat between them has become unbearable and they needed to breathe. They huffed into each other’s face with their foreheads touching. Her eyes are still closed and he is watching her, admiring her like one admires a piece of art. His fingers brush against her cheek, her nose, her lashes and he shivers when he feels them fluttering against his skin. Her eyes are beaming with affection, the same way his do and he feels like he is watching a galaxy of lights and stars unraveling into these deep sloes.

“Do you always resolve a conflict this way?”, she asks with a small grin that almost makes him start to kiss her again.

“Only when it’s with you…”, he breathed out in a tender voice.

***

“Stop moving around.”

“Stop torturing me like this, then.”

She immediately stops the movement of her wrist and therefore of the needle she was using to stitch him up. He is sitting on the floor of her apartment on top of a mountain of soft and fluffy pillows while she was tending to his wounds, sitting behind him on the couch, his head on her lap. Life couldn’t get any better than this to his humble opinion and he couldn’t resist the temptation of bickering around. He slowly shifts his body, half-facing her and grips her thigh with his hand, a smug face on his lips:

“What kind of nurse are you if you’re always this brutal with your patients?”

He was clearly messing with her since she was nothing but pure softness when it came to his wounds. And God knows he was giving her a lot of work. But he couldn’t help it. It was like she had unlocked a new side of him and when he was around her, he couldn’t help but feel playful, as if all the weight on his shoulder had disappeared.

“If you’re not satisfied, then you can go and find someone else as your new healer.”, she replied with a sarcastic tone, knowing damn well he wouldn’t leave even for the most talented healer out there.

“Mhh...I think I’m gonna stick around with you a bit more…”, he replied in a low voice before kissing her bare knee.

His eyes lifted up to look at her from above and his gaze darkened under his lashes when he saw her flustered expression. He could trace his way all along her thigh, only using his lips if he wanted to and the need to do it was growing stronger with every minute. Instead he kept squeezing her plush thigh with his hand, letting out a low hum when he realized how easily he could dig his fingers into her plump skin.

“How generous of you…”, she replied with a flirty smirk.

“I know, I’m so selfless sometimes…”. Just when he finished his sentence, he squeezed a little harder her thigh. But despite being careful and trying to keep it playful, one of his talons pushed against her flesh making her gasp.

“Shock! I’m sorry, it’s not supposed to happen. I didn’t mean to…” Embarrassment was filling up Miguel’s face. This was the reason why they had never been intimate together yet. There was no way he could trust himself around her. He knew he wouldn’t hurt her on purpose but he also knew an accident could happen so easily. His guilt would never let him find peace again if he hurt her.

“Wait, those are claws?”, she asked in an unexpected tone. No one has ever looked at these claws with a tone like this one. She looks genuinely curious and a bit… impressed. Her hands gently held his and she asked:

“May I?”

Miguel was genuinely too flabbergasted to even make a coherent sentence so he simply nodded his head while her fingers traced the lines on his palm. The feeling of it tingled him a bit and he squirmed a little. Not that he was uncomfortable but every contact skin to skin with her had this effect on him. In the silence of the room, he could hear his heart beating in his ears.

She was studying every detail of his hands, from the rough fingertips to the veins on them. One of his hands could easily hold both of hers and the skin on them was warm, just like a small personal heater. When her fingers brushed against his fingertips, one of his claws came out. He hated the fact that even after all these years, he couldn’t sometimes control them perfectly. Usually he did a great job at holding them back but he needed to stay absolutely focused in order to do so. And with her being so close and her breath hitting his skin did nothing to help his focus.

“You’re not scared?”

“Why would I be scared?”, she replied in the most genuine tone, almost making his heart melt. If he hadn’t already been on his knees in front of her, he would have fallen to his knees.

“Because...I could hurt you…”

A gentle smile cured up her lips and she brought his hand closer to her face. When she began kissing his fingertips, Miguel was left breathless, almost shaking. No one had even treated his body with such care after his transformation, and not his claws out of all the spots on him.

“You could never hurt me, Miguel…”

***

Miguel’s hands couldn’t stop shaking as he slipped them under the fabric of her top, feeling the smooth and soft skin of her belly. In fact his whole body was shaking and he felt like he needed to calm himself, to pull back just a little. But it was impossible. They had been waiting so long for this moment, he couldn’t let it go.

They were stripping each other off their clothes with a growing urgency. The cold air of the room brushed against his burning skin and he felt like he won’t be able to survive this moment. His body was burning hot like a furnace and he needed to release all this pent-up tension as soon as possible. Every muscles under his skin rippled, tensed and locked while he tried to hold himself back.

When the last piece of clothing had disappeared from his body, she looked up at him and Miguel swore he could have died right on the spot. It was worth waiting this long for the look of awe she was arboring.

“You’re gonna be the death of me…”, she whispered in a breathy voice and Miguel’s vision almost turned blurry the moment she touched him.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes, I do.”

***

She was slowly waking up when she felt something sliding along her waist. Miguel’s strong arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer to his chest. It was barely 8 in the morning and he was already acting this way. She loved it.

“Hi.”

She felt his breath warming up the shell of his ear and her chest tightened when she remembered all the things he has whispered to her the night before. And all the other nights… She had stopped counting them but Miguel didn’t. He even remembered clearly every one of these moments they’ve shared together and he could have easily told them apart.

“Hi.”, she replied in a sleepy voice and that triggered something deep inside him. His hand left her waist and slides up and down her body, his fingertips gently tapping against her skin. Miguel’s face nuzzled against her neck and he proceeded to leave a trail of sloppy kisses all over her skin, from her ear to her shoulder. Her hair brushed against his face and he was close to let himself be suffocated by those locks.

When his hand slipped under the hem of nightdress, she shifted her body, trying to get him off her.

“Miguel...we already talked about this…”

“Please, just five minutes…”

“You said that the last time and I ended up being late…”, she lazily protested. The weight of his body was making her sink down the mattress and despite how good it felt, she knew she had to act upon this. She gently pushed him back and he obliged, after leaving one last kiss on her upper arm.

“I have to go to work…”, she said with so little enthusiasm that Miguel just wanted to pull her back into his arms.

“I know, bebita, I know.”

“Then maybe, you could let go off my dress, please?”, she replied with a cheeky grin. Miguel finally reluctantly let go off her. His arm stayed on her empty side of the bed, taking in her warmth and the scent she had left on the pillow. She grabbed her clothes on the floor and was about to go for the bathroom when she noticed his sulky face and the way he was running his fingers along the mattress.

When she leaned against him and placed a kiss on his lips, Miguel’s face immediately lit up.

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

***

There have never been a ‘tonight’, nor a ‘tomorrow’.

There have only been this day ever since.

Miguel will never forget it as it plays on repeat in his head, again and again.

***

First, there has been confusion. And then, denial. When he saw the whole world around him unraveling, he only had one question in his mind. Where were they?

Gabriella was at a game’s rehearsal but her… She should have been on her way to work by now… He couldn’t be less sure of it. Wait, didn’t she say she needed to get something at her place first?

Miguel remembers running as fast as he could. The door was still open and when he entered the small apartment, his heart sunk down his chest. It looked like madness. All the colors of the room were mixing together in a dreadful mix of shades. All the precious stuff she had accumulated over the years were gone, disappearing faster than he could even register it. But the worst was yet to come.

She was laying there, on the ground, the lower half of her body was slowly disappearing into what looked like a myriad of pixels. Her cat pushed a last meow and vanished as it it had been blown by the wind, as if it was nothing.

Miguel had only seen her this scared once before. It was that day on the train. Tears were running down her ethereal face as she was suffocating for air. Miguel knelt down by her side and immediately wrapped his arms around the last remains of her body. The pixels were growing and going higher on her with every breath she took.

He remembers that he had cried, that he wanted to tell her so many things… But all he managed to say was screaming “No” in denial. He couldn’t lose everything right now, not after he finally managed to find happiness. She couldn’t disappear like that. He remembers holding her in his arms almost an hour ago and she was fine. Her body was still whole, it was real and she was his just like he was hers.

“Please, don’t leave me! Don’t go!”

No plead could stop that. Her body was being consumed and he had no clue about what was creating this. She cupped his face one last time, begging him to let go, to go look for Gabriella, to make sure she was safe… She knew it was too late for her. And Miguel knew she was right. After that, everything happened so quickly. He remembers the taste of their last kiss, bitter like his tears as she vanished into the void.

***

Miguel already thought that his heart was broken at this point.

That nothing could ever compete with this moment.

And then he lost Gabriella.

In his arms.

He saw her vanish, he heard her last cries of terror and sensed the despair in her eyes.

He had failed her.

He had hurt them.

***

Miguel gave one last look at the screen in front of him. His office was dimly lit and he could watch on one of his giant screens one of his favorite memories.

Gabriella had won one of her games that day and she was hugging him. Gosh, he looked so proud of her and he certainly was. He took her in his arms, made her swirl around while she kept on laughing. Her little nose was scrunching up, just like every time she would smile.

When he finally put her down and looked up at the camera filming them, his smile became charming and his eyes lit up.

He could see himself talking at the person behind the camera, his voice warm and filled with nothing but longing.

And every time the Miguel from the present heard the voice talking back, he would finally let go of the tears he was holding back.

================================================

Notes: Thanks for everyone who read this story. I hope you all enjoyed it.

I’ll be posting less things this month because of college but I’m not forgetting mu dbf! Fiction and I’m already working on the next parts.

[milolunde]

can u list all the main guys and their roles in the tunes bc i only know daffy and bugs and lola kinda rly but no one else😞😞also is roger rabbit relevant at all to them

YES I CAN.

Bugs Bunny- THE Main Character. Young upstart that’s been the “clever funny snarky guy who always gets the upper hand and makes sure the other person feels like an idiot while he does” since the start. Has a gay charm about him that pisses people off when immediately when they enter proximity.

Daffy Duck- THE The Main Character… before Bugs. Was the one to get the upper hand with some hijinks and shenanigans and always win in the end, just without the “cool” edge. Until, of course, Bugs had to be the one to Always Win. This shifted him from a Silly Duck to a generally greedy jealous and spiteful person, especially when paired with Bugs. He’s recently returned to his role as The Silly Guy.

Lola Bunny- originally appearing in the first Space Jam as sex appeal I mean Bugs’ love interest. She could play basketball and didn’t like being called “doll” and that was it. I counted and she had about 10 lines and 3 scenes

In The Looney Tunes Show and Rabbit Run, she’s portrayed as a complete ditz. She’s stupid, airheaded, and lowkey a stalker to Bugs because she’s so unaware of things outside of herself. In Rabbit Run they toned down the stupid and stalker and just made her a ditz who wants to sell her perfume and I LOVE her.

In the second Space Jam she is a Strong Independent Woman… I truly can’t remember if she plays a role other than being a member of the team, but that’s because Space Jam 2 didn’t utilize their characters correctly. Though she’s not much more than a Strong Independent Woman, I super love her. She’s capable and strong… like, become an Amazonian Warrior capable and strong. Anointed by Wonder Woman herself. She also cares for her friends and cares for family and the love others share as she virtually throws away her life’s work to become a Warrior because she hears a dad pleading for her to help his kid… she’s also sporty. Like the first Space Jam, its core that she’s Sporty and Likes Basketball

Then she appears in one episode of Looniversity, the Tiny Toons spinoff Spinoff as a chef. And a surfer. And skate boarder. She’s the Everything-Woman and she makes it look incredibly easy because, for her, it is. She has a Dude Bro Chick voice which I lowkey don’t like, but she’s fun.

Over all, Lola was made to be Bugs Bunny’s Girlfriend, then got her own Thing in The Looney Tunes Show which developed further (and into a better character) in Rabbit Run… then they lost it because god forbid a woman be a ditz. Hey this became more about my opinion on Lola than about Lola but that’s because, in their attempts to make her not a shallow woman character they made her a shallow woman character

OKAY. Okay <3

Yosemite Sam- Rootin’ Tootin’ souther cowboy with anger issues and guns

Elmer Fudd- THE hunter and THE adversary of Bugs Bunny… though I always thought adversary wasn’t the right word, as it seems more like Bugs messes with Elmer for fun, not because he HAS to outsmart him to survive being hunted

Tasmanian “Taz” Devil- I’ve seen him majorly in Bugs Bunny cartoons and he doesn’t interest me that much so I’m not sure if he’s bigger in a different set of cartoons. He’s a tornado-spinning rampaging beast that can destroy anything in his path but isn’t very smart. Always outsmarted by Bugs but that’s usually solved with Taz eating whatever tomfoolery is set in front of him

Porky Pig- before Bugs Bunny and Elmer there was Daffy Duck and Porky. Typically the victim of Silly Duck Daffy’s silliness. Sometimes his partner in crime. In The Looney Tunes Show Porky is A Loser by trade and usually victim to Daffy being a bag of dicks, I was pleasantly surprised that is different from their other portrayals as a duo

Sylvester the Cat- sometimes a domestic cat, sometimes and alley cat, always chases tweety bird

Tweety Bird- yellow canary of suspicious gender. Has to outsmart Sylvester as a means of survival… but they have a Tom and Jerry relationship half the time where they’re super trying to kill each other but would be devastated if the other was actually gone

Granny- the sweet old lady who either owns Sylvester or Tweety or Both depending on the cartoon. Also the “sweet but tough” grandmother trope. In The Looney Tunes Show she and tweety fought the Germans at war in France

Wile E. Coyote- silent coyote who uses ACME products to try and catch the Road Runner on Route 66

Was also in some Bugs Bunny cartoons where he did speak. Was a self proclaimed genius (“Wile E. Coyote. Geeeenius.”) and inventor. I haven’t seen media outside of Bugs Bunny cartoons where he speaks other than using signs

Road Runner- says meep meep, is fast and blue, and doesn’t even have to outsmart Wile E. It’s in their unwritten-written rules that Wile E. is thwarted by his own incompetence

Marvin the Martian- funny little guy who wants to take over earth for mars

Foghorn Leghorn- so like he’s The Rooster on this farm and he wants to fuck all the chickens and has some crazy Hero Syndrome about it, putting the farm in danger to prop himself up what a virgin

Pepe Le Pew- he’s a skunk that harasses Penelope because he thinks she’s also a skunk. He smells bad and is also French. His whole thing is he’s a diehard swoon French romance man but Penelope Does Not Like Him also he fucking stinks; I haven’t seen media where this is different

Penelope Pussycat- gets harassed by Pepé Le Pew because she’s a black and white cat and he thinks she’s a skunk. Sometimes she gets to beat the shit out of him <3

There was a short they used to show in theaters before movies called Carrotblanca, a parody of Casa Blanca, where Penelope is Bugs’ ex-lover who finds him again by pure chance. Their relationship left Bugs an actual alcoholic and disturbed to the point of he heard a single note of the piano of a certain song he’ll flip out- the song is Penelope’s favorite… worth mentioning as we’ll that Daffy is there with him as he RELAPSES INTO ALCOHOLISM BECAUSE PENELOPE IS THERE and threatens to kick he out when she comes pleading to Bugs for help. She kicks his ass, so… Anyway, she and Bugs end up together again at the end of the short, kissing beneath a parachute and dancing in an empty airport … lot…

As for Rodger Rabbit.

No

That guy means nothing to the Looney Tunes, BUT the Looney Tunes DO mean something to Rodger. Who Framed Rodger Rabbit is (almost) entirely stand alone, referencing and parodying both WB and Disney cartoons and characters.

In the crazy ass Meta Verse Actor World of Looney Tunes, the closet relationship Rodger has to any of the Looney Tunes is that he might work on the same set sometimes, Jessica Rabbit might be a performer, and whatever the movie e Who Framed Rodger Rabbit means to the characters depending on if you view it as a movie where the characters played roles or as events that happened to the characters that is only a movie in real life…

[nonbinaryeye]

One thing I really love about Disco Elysium is how it subverts your expectations based on stereotypes and clichés you've learnt to expect from media.

There are the Hardie boys. Obvious first suspects and vigilanties given questionable authority by the Union and what more do they appear at the first glance than some mean boys gang. Except they *are* trying to make Martinaise better and safer place and they are willing to help their neighbours and people who seek refugee there - that's what the arranged lynching was about in the end. And yes their remarks are still sexist, they do not hesitate to use brutal force (I was testing what if I chose the worst option and they killed me and Kim on like three separate occasions). But also they could quite easily be abusing the power they have.

There is Evrat Claire fitting into evil fat ceo stereotype and you expect to learn that he does not really care about his workers and that the whole Union strike and getting benefits for the workers is some evil scheme but no! Turns out he really wants the Union to work out and he fights for his workers. He is using his influence to prevent organized crime and build up infrastructure and he cares about people of Martinaise - enough to create superficial job for René, enough to fund education for Elizabeth. And he is still not a best person. He is trying to bribe Harry. He does not hesitate to get rid of threats to his goals. His plans for Fishing village are not good either. And his refusal to acknowledge the danger mercenaries poses is questionable at best.

There is Cuno, delinquent kid screaming slurs at you and you expect him to be more of one gimmick character that is there just to make place feel more alive but you can actually bond with him and learn not only about his life and domestic abuse but also about his hobbies and you would not expect him to be your companion but there he can be if you fail to save Kim and you can recruit him to RCM.

There is Insulindian Phasmid. Mythical creature that is obviously fake and how ridiculous would it be to really believe in its existence? You expect all the mission surrounding it to be just a treasure hunt in vain that is really not about the Phasmid and more about relantionship of Lena and Morrell but no. The Phasmid is very much real and you can encounter it and it is much bigger and smarter than you would expect even if you did believe in its existence.

And then there is of course Kim Kitsuragi, your partner from precinct 57 and where can one even begin to describe all the contradictions Kim is? He just fits into that boring and very serious cop who is there to serve as your foil and hold you back and guide you and who will always be polite and kind. But no, he is genuinely funny and mean. He will not coddle you he just wants to do his job. He will not hesitate to call you on your bullshit but also he can play along with whatever scheme you are attempting. And he is actually very competitive and he can be silly and he is willing to agree even to some of your straight out crazy ideas. But he does care about you and he is quite amused by some of your stereo investigations. And when you learn about his past you understand why he always tris to keep up his perfect composure. And I will rather stop here because there is just so much to say about Kim.

I could go on and on I do not even know where to begin with our player character Harry and the journey of discovering who he is, who he was and who he could be. I could just keep listing characters and what are you supposed to notice about them at first and who you are supposed to assume they are in contrast what you can actually learn about them as you progress. And, yes, sometimes things are as they appear and the Racist Lorry Driver is just a racist and a lorry driver.

The point is you should never judge others based on the first impression even if they are just video game characters who appear to be cardboard cutout of overused cliché.

[cru5h-cascades]

So, looking at the description for Emio on the Nintendo store, I can't help but notice that the description raises the question that the origin of the Smiling Man story could have something to do with why the string of crimes are so similar. Here we go again... my lil' Corrine theory.

Okay so my current theory for the Smiling Man's origin is that he lost his lover (Corrine) during one of her preformances and that loss, on top of previous trauma related to being a victim of domestic abuse, was too much for Emio to bear so he went nuts, becoming the villain we know (and that some people simp for I guess) today.

Now with the info that Emio specifically goes after crying girls on the street, another question is raised. Why specifically girls? Time to add onto the Corrine theory...

Earlier today I decided to find out what flower is featured on the game's logo and came to the conclusion that the flower most likely is a balloon flower, which represents devotion, the "desire for a friend's return", and eternal love, to name a few things the flower represents. Where am I going with this? I think that the Smiling Man goes specifically for crying girls in hopes that he'll find Corrine, who may or may not be sad because she has been seperated from her partner... or maybe father...

"But cru5h, you sounded so confident that Corrine was Emio's lover? Why are you raising the question of her being his kid now?" you might ask. Hear me out. The descriptions of the Smiling Man's murders have to do with young girls. Not women in general. Considering Emio goes after girls in despair and he tries to "cheer them up", I think that my Corrine theory could also apply to a daughter character. Why would some dude give his partner a paper bag mask? Wouldn't it have a negative connotation and imply that Emio doesn't give a shit for his lover? Thinking more about this I can definitely see that before going crazy, Emio had a kid and whenever she was upset he'd try to cheer her up by making a silly paper bag mask, put it on himself, and do some silly stuff until his kid was happy again.

And also I keep refering to the possibility of Emio being a domestic abuse victim, but I never elaborated on that, did I? Well, I kinda think it has to do with being raised in an abusive household as a kid. Emio probably tried to see the bright side of things and as a father he probably wanted to keep his kid happy and safe. Failing to do so on the day of his daughter's death probably broke the Smiling Man, and then boom bro goes crazy and is in denial that his daughter is dead, believing that she's just missing, scared, alone, and in need of a smile.

In other words, now I kinda think Corrine could possibly be Emio's dead daughter rather than a lover now that we know the Smiling Man goes after specifically girls and not just women in general.

[w98pops]

Still cant believe a fucking terf is in fallout fandom intecacting with trans creators and drawing her ugly stereotypical twink transmasc character. You should be ashamed

What is even happening to my inbox anymore. Idk if it's the same person that asked about Sharky or not, but it really makes me uncomfortable.

I don't know where the TERF stuff even come from, but I'm very open with my political views and yeah, I was a radfem in 2019 or something. I also was a very vulnerable sad russian teenager. I know not a lot of people on tumblr aware of all the intricacies of russian internet scene, but I assume you, anon, have some knowledge, because you called me a TERF in the first place.

There's an internet phenomenon called "alt-right pipeline" and I fell in the simular thing called "TERF pipeline". This shit is inevitable for every single afab person that speaks russian. It's a really big thing. I don't say it's an excuse to be a bigot, but I was 12 when i first touched the internet. I was insecure, very fucking poor and spiteful. Also I had and (still have) some hormone problems and was generally a pretty ugly girl so coped with it by drawing ponies and hating on elusive and mysterious "men in skirts" these smart twitter girlies always talked about.

To be perfectly honest, I genuinely don't understand what russian TERFs are fighting for or against, I was in this shit for solid few years and still have no idea. I mean, now it's illegal to be transgender in Russia (a real law), but it wasn't a win for these angry teenage girls, it was a win for genocidal bigoted russian government, the same one that legalized domestic violence (also a law. its officially not a real crime in this country). I went off the topic and started ranting about my frustrations with the government again FUCK 😭

I tried to say that russian internet is genuinely a fucked up place, but I lived in the middle of Siberia in a village, ideologically only had my orthodox grandma, racist older brother and TERFs on the internet. I only started to learn english a few years ago, so i didn't have enough options before that. Or, to better words, didn't have enough knowledge to be a better person.

I'm really really and sincerely fucking sorry for that. Like, truly. It was really fucked up and I'm ashamed of stuff I said and supported blindly. I now have resources and have some media literacy in my disposal and basic understanding of english to educate myself about the topics I'm talking about. I'm trying my hardest to show support and love to all my queer friends and mutuals, and as an artist I do all I can to be inclusive, not because I feel the need to, but because I want to.

I have no right to speak about trans people and their issues and I won't. I don't know if Sharky is as bad as anon described, because I'm biased (this is my character after all) and not educated enough to acknowledge all the stereotypes associated with transmasculinity. I would really enjoy to hear opinions of my fellow transmen. To address some of my choices regarding his design and writing:

- He wears pink, because it's a quirky color that doesn't show up much in Fallout. Never meant to de-masculate him or to ridicule him. It's my favorite color, after red and brown, which are the primary colors of Wendy.

- He has a silly personality and a carefree attitude because 1) I'm projecting and 2) Wendy needed a character to balance out her awkward and moody autism

- He's a girl's boy and has wives. I didn't have the reason to make him not like girls. I wanted him to be an example of positive masculinity and solidarity. He is a straight dude who loves women. Not just sexually attracted to them or sees them as pets. They are his partners. With their own personalities and lives. Also I wanted to make a full circle 😭😭😭 I'm asexual and bi-romantic. I like boys, girls, all between and beyond boys and girls and don't really think sex is a big thing for me. Aletus likes boys, Sharky likes girls and Wendy likes when there's no sex. Pretty simple, I think.

Hope this explains why Sharky is the way he is. Would still really appreciate an opinion from a trans person. Or any kind of feedback really, because I've been feeling really fucking bad lately and can't objectively reflect on my choices. Also more questions about my OCs are very much welcome. There's a lot of stuff that made me feel like I've been misiforming people, including this anonymous message, and I will specify anything you want to know. Thank you all a lot.

[alicepao13]

Happy 30th Anniversary Inspector Rex!

Kommissar Rex was always "the little show that could". It could easily find its way into your heart with a cute dog, it could have silly and heavy plotlines, it could (even back then) handle societal issues with a certain grace and sensitivity. Imagine my surprise when I went back to watching it after (admittedly) quite a bit of time to realize that it still mostly held up (I'm only talking about the German/Austrian production). And damn, how funny it could be sometimes. It would also spend a substantial amount of time focused on the bad guy of the week in the episode, which I believe served two purposes: it made us understand them better and it was a less heavy load on the main actors.

I was introduced to it when I was about 10 years old and possibly too young for some cases that they showed (although the networks here had cut any and all sexual content). Tobias Moretti had already left the show but in my country we still had the episodes with him airing and it was the 90s so it was the no-spoiler age (we didn't even have internet until the mid-2000s in my house). I recall having a bit of a crush on Moser. I remember how gutted I was when he was replaced and I didn't even get to watch the episode he was killed on until way later (maybe they didn't even air it). Anyway, one day I saw Brandtner on my tv and was not impressed lol. I was young enough to not be able to tell that they were in the process of switching the dog.

(Sorry about the images. I have a shitton of them but as I mostly got them all when dial-up connection was a thing, they're pretty damn small in dimensions, so any image I have to get now about his show, I'm just googling as I write this.)

When they changed to Gedeon Burkhard, kid me didn't really like the change but that changed when I revisited it as a teenager (a new network here picked it up and showed all the episodes again, funnily enough this show was picked up by 3 different networks, without counting the networks that picked up Hudson and Rex, and each one would add the next "generation" with the next actor that replaced the previous one lol). And it so helped that I got closure on Moser and watched his final episodes. I cried. I dare you to watch these episodes and not cry when you see Rex over Moser's dead body. And on the next episode where they introduce Brandtner and show how he bonds with Rex. I totally get how the show got more popular with Brandtner's episodes internationally but not domestically. He was a new age cop back then, he could run and fight and box and be somewhat sensitive, and he had abs lol. Now, as an adult I don't need guys to have abs on my crime shows but back then it was impressive (not to mention my watching experiences in Greek shows back then in that genre were classified as... meh).

At some point, they changed the lead again. And the dog. I suspect these changes had to do with the chemistry between human and canine actor as well.

This was the first time they had a woman in the team too. I admit that Alexander Pschill never hit the right tone for me, not that I didn't like him. I think it didn't help that the change was pretty much "we will pretend that Moser and Brandtner never existed and Hoffmann always had Rex". It bothered me. But I understand why they couldn't kill one of Rex's partners again. The romance with Nikki was a bit nice. I don't remember a lot from these as I watched them while in college (the show had already ended 4 years ago) and I'd just hit my golden crime show age, so I was looking for something more impressive. There were notable episodes, though, that I still remember.

The last Greek network that aired Kommissar Rex also aired a couple of seasons from this. I'm surprised that they presented it as a continuation instead of an adaptation and actually set up the story to start from Vienna. They kept the story up to Moser's death and then had Fabbri adopt him and bring him to Rome. The tone of the show was already lighter, and the sexism heavier. That was probably due to the Italian culture too (don't hate me if you're Italian, we're the same in a lot of things about that and I actually have Italian roots). Anyway, if I were to purely focus on Fabbri and Rex's partnership, it wasn't bad. I didn't like the actor much but that's a personal preference kind of thing. The episodes did have some action which was good. And then, surprise surprise, he was killed lol

Rivera was a better character for me and it's interesting that they had him be like, no I don't want a dog. That went on for a couple of episodes, if I recall (I haven't watched the Italian episodes a lot, I couldn't find subtitles until way later for these). As I've said before, he was quieter than the loud Fabbri and I liked that. There was also no cringe romance with the forensics lady which I'd hated with Fabbri (imagine how badly it was set up for me to hate that kind of ship lmao).

Terzani was promising but I unfortunately found only one season of his episodes. I'm hoping to properly meet this guy sometime in the future. There are a few episodes the plot of which I've read and I want to see those tropes play out. He was more of a Brandtner type and... lived in a boathouse? Something like that. He was interesting.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that there are other adaptations out there that for various reasons (mostly availability and language) in Europe I couldn't watch. I remember that when I was in my teen years, I used to hope that one day Rex would be picked up for an English speaking adaptation. I was thinking the US but Canada was definitely as good an option. It just took me about a season to find it and I'll explain why. I'd never thought that we'd go from a show called "Inspector Rex" to Rex being second in the title so I'd noticed the "Hudson and Rex" title but didn't think it could possibly refer to this franchise lol

I'm using this promotional photo on purpose because it pretty much reflects the change that came with this show. Hudson and Rex is not what I'd call a true ensemble but it's closer to it than Inspector Rex ever was. Hudson and Rex is a modern crime show that is trying to keep the identity of the original while adding new elements like true team work, and chose to build on these characters and on Hudson and Rex's partnership instead of replacing actors and characters. I respect them for that and it gave the show an advantage over its predecessors. They now have years of history together, and with the rest of the characters too. On top of that, they developed an adequate non-toxic ship that I could get behind, which they had the guts to make canon (something that to this day crime shows are often wary about). No matter where the show ends up (as it's still ongoing but it's probably on its last legs which is okay), I'd say it's worth the time I spent on it. Maybe some of it was due to nostalgia but I still enjoy it.

Happy 30th Anniversary to the Rex franchise! Thank you for the countless hours of enjoyment!

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

☔️? i really love your work! (your trent is so dorky he's absolutely perfect)

thank you sm!!! i just. i just love him being a dork <33 he's so. 💗💞💖💗💓💞💞💗💖💖💗💞💖💞💞💗💖

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

okay i swear im not copying off of @sighonaraa here (hey !! 😘) bc my initial inspiration was poirot (silly mustache buddies!) not benoit blanc, although benoit blanc and sherlock holmes did cross my mind after i had the initial idea, but i have a fic i've rotated in my brain about like. amateur sleuth/gentleman detective/gumshoe ted au, with a tedependent angle.

i actually have a lot of interest in like. both mystery stories in general (amateur sleuth/gentleman detective versus private eye/noir detective is a good one! i have a very vague noir au too--and trent as a homme fatale, perhaps? inch resting) and in like. certain archetypes (gentleman thief, amateur sleuth, magical nanny, noir private eye, etc) and it's fun to see how ted would fit into them (magical nanny is weirdly fitting, the whole mary poppins/nanny mcphee--oh my god, "when you do not want me but need me, i must stay--when you want me but no longer need me, i must go" this is literally how ted thinks of his role with the teams he coaches isn't it. jesus christ. hang on a second i'm going to make that a Post.)

so like i have a lot of vague aus centered around these concepts: ted as a poirot/benoit blanc/sherlock type character, and trent potentially as his watson/hastings/etc, or the other way around possibly but less likely, and so on.

with the sleuth thing in particular, though, i just have a lot of feelings about how a good gentleman sleuth has to be like. kind, intelligent, underestimated, and non-judgemental. particularly that last one, i think, is a very important trait--because they go digging around in the domestic private lives of their suspects, and often uncover truths that are irrelevant to the crime at hand, but nonetheless have deeper life-changing implications. (a hidden relationship, a secret, a past indiscretion, whatever--i could genuinely write an essay aobut this but im trying to hold back here so i won't give specific examples) and in order to be kind, an amateur sleuth must know when to let things lie (in fact, a good sleuth will sometimes, if rarely, let the murderer go entirely, if it is needed, which generally, a cop in a cop show can never do), or when to be earnestly non-judgemental about it, you know? and i think all that suits ted to a "t". being curious, not judgemental. being kind and empathetic. i think trent would make a great partner in this as well because he very much cares about the truth, but ted helps him see when it's better to keep silent, because despite trent's determination (especially if he still starts off as a journalist with a Reputation) he does have a kind heart, and he isn't necessarily interested in causing pain. and he's very intelligent in his own right (although that's another thing, is that usually the watson/hastings is, while intelligent in their own way, an entirely different type of intelligence, while i believe trent would actually be pretty good at detecting, considering his skillset? so. hm.)

anyway i just have a lot of messy thoughts about this.

also see: i wrote like, one page of a selkie!trent au bc a single scene sprung into my brain fully formed and nothing else will cooperate now.

[thesnailtail]

i was dared to ask about the phantom thief minori au in the tags...

can we have details?

(also this au seems really cool)

;; well!!! >:D (also thank you!!)

;; small warning: later on there is a mention of hospitalisation and overworking yourself to the point of hospitalisation

;; minori and mizuki are partners at the start, two silly thieves doing silly things. the two detectives on their case are haruka and an! minori and mizuki's aliases are clover and amia.

;; the main way i can describe the next bit is: phantom thief minomizu -> ??? -> profit (domestic mizuan happens)

;; minori's reasoning for becoming a thief is that if she gets enough money from the things she takes then she can use it to make the world better right? robin hood reasoning. - haruka and an did notice the odd correlation between the heists and a sudden decrease in other crime and social problems in the area. but this thinking does lead to some unintended consequences later.

;; so now minori is the only phantom thief left in the area and haruka is the one trying to work out what the heck is going on with this case

;; then later on after haruka runs in on minori escaping and they have a very quick chat, minori worries that she offended haruka. so she calls up mizuki to give her a letter who then gives it to an who gives it to haruka.

;; that then leads to minori and haruka meeting on the roof of that detective agency and having a short little talk, mainly consisting on minori saying sorry over and over. haruka offhandedly mentions that she doesn't get paid enough for this job. so she goes to the building the next morning to get another letter from minori, this time with "just over four months of good paychecks for her" in money.

;; typical phantom thief shenanigans insue then minori almost gets shot. ive not explained it but my personal belief is rui was testing out the gun in his phantom thief card and minori happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. so she falls off of a rooftop and haruka catches her. luckily she's in casual clothes otherwise that might not have ended so well.

;; after a while this is when haruka and an get to fight. so canon haruka has problems overworking herself, well. well, haruka has to be reminded by an to eat, drink and sleep. she does the first two. she has not slept in a good week and has a caffeine dependency. so her and an argue (during which haruka is a jerk about it) about the state of her wellbeing until haruka collapses in the middle of it. and this kids is why you should take care of your health!

;; in the time when haruka is recovering in hospital, minori doesn't do any sort of heist because she feels bad. she thinks that she was the reason this happend. thought she visits haruka, saying that she was thankful for her catching her when she fell off of the building. and hey here's those unintended consequences from earlier! minori gets stuck in a loop of thoughts that are basically: she thought she was helping people, only for someone to get badly hurt because of her, so was she really even helping in the first place?

;; so when haruka gets back to her normal life, an is constantly worried about her at work. minori gets word from mizuki that she's alright. so she does one heist and no one comes.

;; she does another. and no one comes. she does a third and finally haruka shows up. so minori is absolutely panicking about if haruka's okay and haruka is just mildly annoyed at the fact this case is still ongoing. minori apologises for the problems she caused for haruka. at some point part of minori's disguise (probably the mask) falls off and haruka realises that one of the people who visited her most in the hospital was the person she's been chasing for the past 7 months-ish. yeah.

;; still working out how parts of it go on from there so im just gonna copy this bit from what i said earlier: phantom thief minori -> ??? -> profit (domestic minoharu happens)

;; other plot points im working on fitting in:

- minori gets her money from selling the things she steals to miku. miku encourages theft!

- married couple shizuai, they're a thing. main museum minori keeps stealing from so haruka has to deal with them a lot. in her sleep deprived state and it's not fun for anyone.

[carry-on-my-wayward-hobbit]

I mean it’s kinda been a while since I’ve been properly active on here whoops. But I’ve still but skulking about quietly cultivating my silly little hyperfixations and writing my silly little stories about them and it’s gotten to the point where I may finally have something new to put on AO3 so I figured I would indulge in WIP Wednesday to really put the pressure on.

It has been two years since I’ve posted a fic and this is a Christmas fic so she still has a few months of proofing and fine tuning ahead - but it intends to be very wolfstar turning hallmark movie featuring single-dad/bookstore owner Remus; fancy business Sirius learning to let himself appreciate to little things in life; James being his usual chaotic-Christmas obsessed self; toddle Harry and Teddy being best friends/partners in crime/unintentional matchmakers; and a little side of domestic Jily

It’s strange being back in Hogsmeade. Sirius notes as he makes his way down the winding street, that the small town really hasn’t changed at all since he was last here almost ten years ago. In fact, if anything it somehow seems even smaller and quieter than it was when he used to visit during his high school days. Frankly, he finds it ridiculous that James would ever want to give up the excitement and buzz of city life for a town whose under-fifty population could probably be counted on two hands. And yes, logically it does make sense - Lily started a new job at their old high school in September and it’s probably a good place to raise a kid (not that Sirius knows much about good parenting but he feels like quaint countryside is supposed to be good.) But regardless of that, at the end of the day, Sirius is still just a smidge annoyed that his best friends up and moved to the other end of the country when there are plenty of good schools in London for Lily to teach at and Harry to enrol in.

However, any mild resentment that has quietly brewed over the last couple of months is quickly replaced by excitement when he finally reaches the last cottage at the of the street and pushes open the red garden gate. The front door is open before Sirius if even halfway up the path. There’s a delightful squeal and Sirius barely has time to register what’s happening before a tiny toddler slams into his leg at a speed that no three-year-old should be able to reach.

He leans down to scoop up Harry, lifting him high into the air and holding him above his head. Harry shrieks with glee, making tiny grabby hands at Sirius’ face.

“Hello Hazza, how’s my favourite little Prongslet?” He asks as he gives Harry one more bounce in the air before bringing him down to balance on his hip.

“Pads!” is all Harry has to say with an unwipable grin plastered on his face.

“He’s been watching through the window all day,” another voice calls and Sirius glances up to find Lily leaning up in the open doorway, an equally big smile as her son.

It only takes a few strides for Sirius to make it to the porch and as soon as he’s in arms reach, he pulls Lily into a tight hug. “Hey, Lils,” he says, face pressed into her soft curls. God he’s missed this.

“How was the journey up?” She asks as pulls away from the hug and leads him inside.

He is hot immediately by the warmth and the smell of baking. It immediately reminds him of visiting the Potters over Christmas as a teenager - Effie and Monty had somehow always made him feel more welcome and more at home than he ever did with his actual parents.

“Long,” he says as he shucks his shoes off. It’s a careful balancing act as he refuses to put Harry down. “I can’t believe we used to do that trip multiple times a year without complaint.”

Lily hums in agreement. “I know. Now imagine it that little nightmare,” she says, the last part more of a coo than actual talking and Harry is giggling again as she ruffles his dark hair.

“Aw, you’re not a nightmare, are you Harry?”

“Yeah!” Harry cheers in agreement.

“You wouldn’t disagree after a ten-hour road trip with him.”

Sirius shudders at the thought.

[marshmallowprotection]

Hello! I hope you’re having a good day :) I was wondering if I could get a matchup please?

My pronouns are she/her, and I have a preference for guys. I’m an INFJ 6w7.

Growing up, a lot of people have told me I’m very mature for my age, which might be because I’m the oldest child. I’m pretty shy and quiet, but if I get the right vibes from you, I’ll open up and joke around. I can also be a bit of a yapper to the people I’m close with. Still, I’m a true introvert at heart. While my family and friends go out to parties and concerts, I’d rather stay home. I’m pretty relaxed and chill, and I don’t like conflict or confrontation, but I will handle it if necessary. I’ve been told I’m too nice and polite, and maybe I am, but I know my limits. I also have strong morals and stick to them. I won’t hesitate to defend myself or others if needed.

As for hobbies, I love to read, watch true crime documentaries, and play my guitar. I’m also always listening to music—my noise-canceling headphones are basically glued to my head. I also have a soft spot for kids, so I’m always up for babysitting.

A toxic trait I have is giving people the silent treatment when I’m upset. I typically won’t tell them what’s wrong unless they confront me about it first. I’m also someone who leaves—if I feel like an argument is a waste of time, I’ll literally walk away mid-conversation.

On the bright side, I’m very supportive and a great listener. I’m always ready to lend a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen. I love doing favors for the people I care about, and I enjoy taking care of them. I can be a bit of a ditz from time to time, and pretty clumsy. I also have a bit of the oldest daughter syndrome.

But yeah, that’s pretty much it! Thank you so much <3

I match you with...

Jumin.

You need a partner that is willing to communicate and meet you in the middle, someone who understands that you've got a constant need to say what you feel even if it's tough. For that reason, you've got the level-headed member of the bunch on your side. Jumin is... the steadiest shell in stormy waters. He knows when to let the waves float past him and when to move with the current. He's not the type to brace the waves unless something has to be done. So, that silent treatment of yours isn't going to turn into a mess while he's around. He understands needing time to yourself, there are moments when he feels the same, but it's not going to turn into a house at odds with one another.

If there's one thing true about the two of you it's that you can get sucked into whatever media you're consuming. I can see the two of you spending 12 hours on your off days just watching as many documentaries as you can get your hands on, and you never finish them because you're always in the middle of analyzing what's going on with each other. It's not a horrible thing because you get to have interesting conversations.

At the end of the day, his favorite thing to do is to watch you from the door, seeing you and grossed and whatever you're doing as Elizabeth tries to get your attention. It may be a little bit silly but this just feels like the domestic life he’s always wanted. 

[thelittlepalmtree]

It's really annoying to see all the jokes about like "why would some 500 year old fairy man fall in love with an illiterate 19 year old??" Because like 1) just say ACOTAR like this isn't a common trope. 2) Did it ever occur to you to analyze WHY women fantasize about men who are centuries old? Because that part is not specific to ACOTAR.

The truth is that in fantasy romance the majority of the story is FANTASY including the romance tropes. And what makes fantasy great is that you don't have to experience it. Enemies to lovers is an incredibly popular trope but like 90% of people probably don't fall in love with people they initially disliked. And personally, that is my worst nightmare, that someone I intensely dislike is secretly harboring feelings for me. Romance is not about real love which is a fulfilling and difficult process that requires a lot of discomfort.

Romance is rooted in the true heroine's journey in my opinion. In MOST MAJOR (I didn't say all so don't tell me that some 200 person tribe in Australia is the exception) cultures the majority of women were relegated to the domestic sphere. Most of our women ancestors relied entirely on their father and then their husband for their social and economic status and had little means of choosing their partner or leaving him. So while men experienced the hero's journey and fantasized about war and monsters (things most men would not want to experience in real life), women fantasized about a husband who could maintain a high social and economic status but was also totally devoted to her and their children. They fantasized about difficulties that could test such a partner and prove he would prioritize them and fight for them. And of course, because women are and were the oppressed class these stories were seen as silly or frivolous while the heroes were seen as intellectual and universal.

So what does this have to do with the 500 year old vampire, fairy lord, wizard, etc? Well the fantasy here is that you would have a partner who waited his entire centuries long life for you. He has infinite stories to tell and yet he finds you fascinating. He may have been with other women but they all fall away when compared to his one true love. He's also usually rich and powerful because, again, women historically relied on their husbands for riches and power. The added element in modern romance is that he elevates the heroine to his level without her having to take centuries to work at it. She benefits from his experience.

You might be thinking "but it's so unrealistic that he would fall in love with a nobody like that." Well it's unrealistic that Odysseus was the only man who could string his bow, it's unrealistic that Theseus defeated a minotaur with string, or that Batman can outwit superheros, or that Luke Skywalker defeated emperor Palpatine. In "real life" all of those characters would likely have died in the first leg of their journey. But we, as a whole, don't find those stories to be offensive because a relatable character completes a remarkable task, in fact that's literally the reason people like those stories.

Wait, wait, I know the next complaint, "Well it encouraged girls to be attracted to old men." Somehow I don't see you complaining that marvel encourages little boys to put on costumes and fight crime, or that Percy Jackson teaches little boys to wrestle aligators. We're all very concerned about little girls looking for five hundred year old magical men to fuck. Maybe that's because you don't think girls are as smart as boys. Maybe it's because we don't teach girls or boys how to be safe in relationships. Either way, the issue isn't the romance, it's how we raise our children and the many other ways we educate young people. Is it possible that some stories in the genre are problematic? Of course! But that's a features of stories not of a particular genre.

You can say you care about women, but at the end of the day this is just another way to tear down femininity. You're doing the same thing the patriarchy has always done, discrediting something that women experience together because if it belongs to us it must be destroyed. How silly and ridiculous and even dangerous for any woman to think that she could be loved by a powerful man. How petty and frivolous for women to have dreams of their own. It's only a literary tradition as old and varied as language itself.

If you don't like the trope, that's fine, but don't act like it's any more ridiculous than the dumb shit men havr obsessed over for centuries.

[paperpeachy]

no ones gonna know what im talking abt bc this show is fresh on my mind not urs but. whatever anyway ok sonic boom is a silly slice of life sitcom before it is anything nuanced ik but...im getting so crazyy over this underlying subplot where sonic and amy are trying to figure out what they are to each other in the bg.

amy gauging his reactions by inviting him to all these lunches n picnics and acting a few steps away from a girlfriend to him by giving him extra tlc+someone to banter w in a playful-partner-in-crime way until sonic confuses himself into acting like her boyfriend by feeling the need to step up as her emotional crutch when she’s upset, not bc hes good w feelings (hes really not), but bc he recognises himself as the only option for amy to go to out of the pack and is always the one urging the rest to try something for her. even tho hes bad at it lol...just thinking abt the way he scans her sadly as she keeps bawling her eyes out and resigns to the fact that hes about to get all deep and personal w her to help comfort her despite it going against his too-cool-to-feel mentality (it’s played for laughs bc the thing shes sad abt is a bee bot she grew attached to but sh anyway). all that until theyr at a point where he just starts spontaneously calling amy to check up on her, complaining to her abt how miserable a time hes having out or dropping everything to buy her some groceries bc she called in the middle of a race w the guys..like its the most natural thing ever.. y did they make them so domestic anyway im going thru it

[strawberryspence]

when death knocks on your door

Angst/Fluff [18+] | Spencer Reid x FEM! BAU! Reader

Summary: Some trauma tears people apart, while some brings people together. SSA Doctor Spencer Reid and SSA Doctor Y/N Y/L/N is brought together by the death of SSA Emily Prentiss.

Word Count: 3,13k 

Warnings: based on the Ian Doyle/Emily Prentiss character arc so some spoilers for s6-s7. talks about death (a lot of it), mention of drug use, allusions to depression, attempted suicide (nothing graphic), mention of cancer & car crash, a few curse words, description of smut, its very vague (one part only), mentions of therapy, HAPPY ENDING (i am not a monster)

Writer's Note: Hello! A bit of a heavier topic on today's fic! I picked apart the whole Emily arc and this is written basically in the reader's perspective. I love writing angst but I can never end it with sad endings. So I hope you enjoy this, I am very proud of how it turned out! 💛

GIF is made by yours truly. Its surprisingly hard to find "purple shirt + sweater vest spencer reid" gifs.

Death.

Death.

Death comes in different shapes and forms.

For Spencer, he has seen it up close with Haley and Hotch, but never with someone in his family or close group of friends. He sees death in the form of abandonment, in ways when people leave him and a part of him goes with them.

For you, you were familiar with death. Death looms over you. You’re father dying when you were younger and then you’re mother in your teens. 

Death comes when your father was killed in a car accident involving a drunk driver. It was fast, in a blink, death sweeps him and takes him. All her father’s life and dreams gone in a second, with a crash.

Death comes when your mother was diagnosed with cancer. Cancer, the fucking bitch, takes her time. It was slow, like it was enjoying the pain. It takes and it takes till its taken everything and the last thing it has taken is your mother.

And death comes when it takes Emily Prentiss. This was your best friend, partner in crime and roommate. Her death wasn’t fast, it wasn’t slow, its painstakingly in the middle while you try to get her blood off your hands while sobbing in the SUV as Derek drives way past the legal speed to get to the hospital.

In her death, you find yourself being swallowed by something that you were not. Something bigger, something you can’t describe. The team sees this weeks after she has been buried. You were the same person, and you were a different person, all at once.

One night, when death was about to knock on your door as you hold a knife to your wrist, ready to meet Death, ready to tell him off, it is then when chance knocks on your apartment door.

Spencer is at your door, a sobbing mess with three bottles of dilaudid clenched in his hands. He stumbles in your new apartment avoiding the piles of boxes unopened. You just moved, not being able to sleep in the apartment you and Emily shared.

“I am sorry. I-I am sorry, Y/N. I didn’t know where to go. JJ was... busy and I am so close... so close.” Your heart softens at how desperate he looks, Spencer doesn’t know how strong he is to you, being able to ask for help when you were just about to end it all.

You take the bottles from him, setting it on the counter as you guide him to your couch. He clings to you as you both sit on the couch, crying and sobbing.

“Death is among us. Avoiding him is what makes us stronger." You whisper to him and he cries harder.

Something is so bitterly comforting when someone shares the same pain you are suffering. It hurts, but in a funny way, it hurts less when some shares it with you.

So you cling to Spencer as he does to you and you let it all go. You cry as much as he does as he holds you and as you hold him.

You both wake up the next day, with a full 8 hours of sleep, something you both have not had in weeks.

“Thank you.” Spencer whispers and you smile, stroking his hair, “Thank you.” You say it back at him.

You were sure that Emily is laughing at her grave. I had to die for you to finally make a move on your crush. You shake her voice off your head. Now is not the time for silly crushes.

It becomes a routine, finding comfort and safety in each others presence, Spencer almost lives in your apartment. His toothbrush sits on the cup besides yours in the bathroom counter, his clothes takes up half of your closet, his books scattered on the shelfs and his cups on the kitchen counter.

You tell yourself its platonic. Spencer tells himself its platonic. The team doesn’t say anything, only thankful that you were reverting back to your old self and Spencer is getting better.

You want more. It was hard to admit to yourself. But you wanted more with Spencer. Your little crush now growing into something bigger than yourself. You wanted futures full of him and what you have right now is not right. Shared trauma is not love.

Three months into the set up of him basically living in your apartment, you suggest therapy for both of you. You are a Doctor of Psychology and you know the percussions of what you’re doing.

Spencer is shocked but he understands. This was your territory, Spencer knows that this was the right thing to do so he agrees. You lay out all the options to Spencer, all the therapy and how both of you should change your routines more often.

It works. He stops sleeping on your bed every night (he still comes tho, just on the harder nights where he needs to hold you to remind himself that death has yet to take you).

You have breakfast together every morning, using it to comfort each other rather than sleeping together every night. It works.

The therapy helps you both as you both move on from Emily’s death. That is until seven months later.

-

Declan was missing. You’ve let the Emily case go but Derek has not, you know this and you let him. Every time you want to do something to help Derek catch Doyle, your doctorate that hangs above your couch stares back at you, like it was taunting you. You studied this, moving on was the better choice and you know it. No amount of killing Doyle would bring back Emily, no amount of it would make you feel better.

That is until Hotch gathers the team on the conference room.

“Everybody have a seat.” Hotch instructs. You all look at each other. Spencer looks at you as if asking if you knew what’s up but you only shake your head.

“Why?” Morgan asks, looking around.

“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize her—“

“What?” You squeak out. Hotch holds his hands up, asking you to hear him out first.

“She was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need-to-know and she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security.”

Spencer can see how your face pales. He reaches for your hand under the table and gives it a tight squeeze. You return the squeeze, finding comfort in his touch.

“She’s alive?” Penelope asks, tears now forming in her eyes.

“But... we buried her.” Spencer says, like its a fact. Like its the solid truth. Your hand clamps down harder on his.

“As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision. If anyone had any issues, they should be directed to me.” Hotch says and all you can do is look at him, not able to believe anything he is saying.

“Any issues? Yeah, I got issues!” Derek’s loud voice now looming over the room.

“Oh my god.” Penelope squeaks making the whole room turn around. You turn around and you see Emily walking to the room. Your hold unto Spencer tightens, as if checking if he is real, you want any sign that this is not a dream, that this is real.

“I am so sorry. I really am. Not a day went by that I didn’t want to...” Emily explains.

Death comes and it takes, and it takes, and it takes but never has Death give someone back to you.

Emily was standing in front of you. The woman whose blood stained your hands for days, the woman you buried, the woman who’s grave you cried on for god knows how long that Derek had to physically carry you away from her grave and here she was breathing and hugging the team.

She comes in front of you and you still haven’t let go of Spencer’s hand.

“Y/N?” She says, it comes as a whisper. A whisper, coming from the ghost that has been haunting you for months. She opens her arms for a hug and you let go of Spencer to hug her.

She was real, she was solid and she’s hugging you back. So why, in the mountain of emotions you are feeling, why is happiness in the bottom of the pit? Why is anger the one screaming in your heart?

You pull away, and she hugs Spencer but as soon as she lets go, Spencer captures your hands again. Emily sees this and smiles, but doesn’t say anything.

“There’s so much I want to tell you guys, and I will. I promise. But right now I really need to know what’s going on with Declan.” The team continued to discuss Declan and Spencer holds unto your hand like its his life line. You only break apart when the team has to work again.

He gives you one look as he separates away from you, “I got you.” He says, kissing your temple before leaving to go to the interrogation room.

That was enough to calm you down.

-

The team gets Declan back safely and after all the trials, you finally had a moment to breathe.

“Hey, you doing good?” Spencer asks. You nod. He looks good, he looks like home in a purple shirt and sweater vest.

“Do you want to go home?” He asks you. You want to shout but you’re my home! You nod and he takes your scarf from your desk and wraps it around you.

“Let’s go?” You smile at him as he wraps it around you. It felt so domestic, so familiar.

You walk together to the elevator, leaving the BAU and all the piles of emotions that you’ve been through this past few days. As you both stand in the silver tin box, you see your reflection with him standing beside you, his arm around your waist and your head on his shoulder.

You wanted to scream how much you love him. But the voice in your head screams back, he doesn’t love you! It’s shared trauma! You shake your head and Spencer sees this.

“You okay? How are you feeling?” You smile up at him, as he looks at you with all the worries that a person can hold for another one.

“Yes, I am good, Spence. How about you?” He smiles and kisses the top of your head. “I am good. I just need time to process some of the things that has happened.”

Spencer drives you both home. Spencer doesn’t take the word hate lightly but Spencer hates driving. He still drives tho, for you. Holding your hand while he drives with the other, while you were staring out of the window, just watching the places blur by.

Death waits on your door and when the right time comes, it will knock. When it does, you can’t turn it away or send it away. When it knocks, it sweeps you off your feet, leaving no time for goodbyes or regrets. Ironically, Spencer walks you to your door, opening it for you and even taking your scarf off for you.

Your heart almost grows twice its size and you can feel yourself bursting in its seams. You find yourself closing the door, as if trying to block Death away from him. He smiles at you and something bursts inside of you.

“I love you, Spence.”

He drops your keys on the bowl on your hallway and he smiles, teasingly. “I love you, too, Dr. Y/L/N.” You smile but you shake your head.

“No Spence, I love you. With my whole heart... I mean, of what’s left of it. W-we need to stop, if this is only a shared trauma for you. I can’t be that... because... I love you and I want futures with you. Any kind of it, as long as you are there, every morning with a cup of hot coffee for me. If that’s not possible, we need to stop. Because my heart...” You hold unto the edge of the table for strength.

“My heart... is not strong enough to lose you and love you at the same time.” Spencer stares at you, confused with a certain spark in his eyes.

“W-why are you saying this now?”

“Because death is at everyone’s door. Emily is lucky. But what if it takes me tonight, or tomorrow? I don’t want to die without telling you that I love you.” You say, bracing yourself for the impact of the rejection.

Spencer walks to you, holding your waist to steady you.

“I love you, more than anything in this world. I have love you even before Emily died. This isn’t shared trauma, it’s been love way before that. If it's anything, it made my love for you grow deeper. You... helped me heal. You pushed me to go to therapy. You made me stronger, Y/N.” Spencer holds your face and brings you into his arms and you clung unto him as he hugs you.

“I love you... I love you so much.” You whisper to him and he hugs you as close as humanly possible.

Spencer lets go of you but cups your face to lift it closer to his face. Spencer kisses you like it was the last time you can ever kiss him. It felt like a fever dream you once had. The fire of the kiss fills in the cracks in your heart, slowly but surely healing it all at once.

Life, the direct opposite of death, has always been hard to describe. Death was easy to describe for you but Life? it was a struggle. But with Spencer kissing you, as he holds your hand and your face, so tenderly like you were going to break, you finally realize what life is supposed to be. It felt good being alive, it felt good to be breathing.

You and Spencer sleep together for the first time that night. It is in one word, unbelievable. It was as if the universe has planned it all along to teach you what it felt to be alive, as he pushes himself inside you, whispering nothing but sweet praises and promises of futures together in your ear. You wake up, hours after making love, tangled with him and the bed sheets, with you in his arms.

“I love you.” You whisper to him, brushing through his hair as he sighs to your touch, snuggling more to the crook of your neck.

-

The morning comes in a breathe. Easy and fast. You wake up earlier than Spencer, untangling yourself from him to make him his daily morning coffee.

A knock comes and it almost makes you drop his mug. Looking up at the clock, it was only 7 in the morning. The thought disappears as another knock comes. You open the door and today life offers you Emily Prentiss.

“Hey, good morning.” She says with a smile, you give it back, still not used to seeing her, alive.

“Hey.” You smile looking at her as you let her enter.

“Pen said you had my boxes.” She looks around on the apartment. “Its not here. Its on the garage downstairs. Do you want it right now?” She nods. “Oh. Uhm, the team actually helped me move it there, its a little heavy...”

“Okay... I’ll get the team to help me later.” You nod but don’t say anything and the silence is so loud, it’s deafening.

“Can we talk?” Emily asks, in a gentle voice. Almost like she’s talking to a toddler. You shake your head. “We can, but not today... I need to process some things first and I need help with it. We can talk this weekend, after my therapy.”

“Therapy?” She repeats. You nod. “Therapy.” She bites down her lips, you know Emily enough to know that she feels bad about it.

“I know it’s not your fault, Em. I understand, but I just... need time. I... buried you. I cried on your grave and for months, I had to accept the fact that you were... dead.” Emily nods, opens her arms for a hug and you gladly accept it.

“I’ll give you as much time as you need. You are my bestfriend and I love you.” You nod and hug her tightly, reminding yourself that she was alive, and that was what’s important.

The hug was cut short when Spencer comes out of your bedroom half naked.

“Spencer?!” Emily almost screams as she pulls away from the hug.

“O-oh... I-I didn’t know you were here...” He says as he slowly backs up the door and picks up a shirt to wear.

“When did this happened!?” Emily is definitely losing her mind now.

“Uh... Last night?” You said, not exactly sure as to when it started. Emily’s mouth drops in surprise and Spencer can only smile at her offering her a cup. “Coffee?” Spencer says with a smile and a shrug that makes both you and Emily laugh.

Emily doesn’t stay long after that, opting to leave the two of you to spend some time together. Spencer and you end up in the couch, huddled together in a huge blanket you both knitted together with cups of coffee in hands.

“So... Are you officially moving in with me?” Spencer looks down at you. The steam of the coffee colouring your cheeks a bright pink colour.

“Do you want me to?” He asks, smiling at you. Spencer loves you, in ways he didn’t know he possibly can and he’d give you anything you want. You could ask for the stars and Spencer would build a rocket just to get a few to give to you (even if he knows it was impossible because, well, stars are made of gas.)

“I want you everywhere. You... are my home.” You say softly, as your hands caress his cheeks.

“Then, I am moving here, love.” He says as he kisses your forehead and you lean unto him as you wrap the blanket tighter around each other.

“I love you.” He says as you lay your head on his chest and he brings you closer to him. You smile and whisper it back. “I love you more.”

Most people say that time heals pain. It, truthfully, does not. Love does, love in the corniest way possible, mends your soul in ways that are not physically possible.

When Death knocks on your door it will be in different shapes and forms, but so will love and for you, love came in the shape and form of Spencer Reid.

-

[parisa-kh]

Here For You (AU series)

Chapter 2. The Truth

Book: Open heart

Paring: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Haley Rochester) x M!OC (Alexander Solace)

Word count: 2k

Rating: T

Category: angst

Warnings: mentions of domestic violence

Series premise: Near the end of her intern year, Haley's marriage is about to fall apart. How is it gonna affect her relationship with Dr. Ramsey?

Chapter 1

Chapter premise: Haley tells Ethan the unsettling truth about the fight.

A/N: I hope you enjoy the second chapter. English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance if there are mistakes or typos. Again, thanks to @utterlyinevitable for her help.

“He wants kids, I said no. … He thinks you're the reason.” Haley finally got it off her chest.

Ethan's eyes widened in surprise. His heart pounding, he felt his ears getting hot. Trying to process the unsettling news, he stammered,

“I'm sorry, what?! What… what are you saying? What on earth do I have to do with anything?!”

Haley wasn’t sure how to answer. She didn’t even know why she was telling Ethan. She just needed him to know. Ethan was her rock, and she was his partner in crime. By telling him, Haley didn't know if she subconsciously wanted to sabotage her relationship with Ethan or was she seeking comfort in him.

Ethan, on the other hand, was mortified. The last thing he wanted was for people to think there is something between him and Hailey, and now her husband was thinking that of all people. It was true that he had a crush on her since day one - just a silly crush on the brilliant and beautiful and seemingly perfect woman before him, he thought. But the moment he learned Haley was married, Ethan did everything in his power to forget about her and swore to himself not to think of her that way ever again. He was successful at that, partly. Ethan Ramsey was a grown man. He could control himself, he had years of practice in suppressing his feelings and putting up boundaries with anyone who had ever tried to get closer to him.

That was the reason Ethan was able to look at her as a friend. Although in this friendship she had become so dear to him, more than he had realized.

Now everything was about to fall apart. Maybe People were starting to talk about them, ans he was about to lose his only friend. Was he able to go back to the lonely life he had before?

What if Haley had to transfer to another hospital to put an end to the fights with her husband? Who was going to teach her to become the great doctor she could be? Was he ever going to see her again? Could he live every day without her beautiful smile? Her sparkling eyes? Wait…

Why was he thinking like that all of a sudden? Why was he missing her so much before anything even happened? Ethan was thinking of every possibility at lightspeed and it was terrifying him. He hadn't felt that way in a very long time. He could feel his heart racing. It was getting harder to breathe.

The expression on Ethan's face made Haley’s stomach turn. She had shared the disturbing truth and gotten Ethan involved in her problem. Among many things she was feeling at the moment, she felt guilty for that.

“I'm sorry, I think I've put it the wrong way. Um...I don't know how he got the idea, but he believes that you're the reason I'm working too hard, and he's mad that I enjoy working with you so much. He is also kind of jealous… and … intimidated by you.”

Casting a glance at Ethan, Haley slightly blushed. There was no denying that Ethan Ramsey was a very attractive man, and his charismatic personality only added to his magnetism. Haley wasn't blind, neither was Alex. But for her, Ethan was her mentor, and she had never let herself think of him in that way. She was in a committed relationship, and Alex was the love of her life. He was the one, right?

She wasn't so sure of the latter, however. Something had been off between the two of them for some time now, lines had been crossed, and some things had been damaged beyond repair. Lowering her head, Haley continued,

“He knows I can't have a baby when I am an intern and I don't know how he does not get it. Last night he was drunk… and he brought up the subject again. I explained how busy I am and the fact that I am working on a very important case with you…” She paused, unsure if she should spill the torturing details.

“At the mention of your name he lost control, screaming at me accusing me of ...He thinks…” Haley felt a lump in her throat, remembering the accusations. “He thinks there's something going on between me and you, and insisted that this was the real reason I didn't want a child with him.”

Despite her effort to remain calm, her vision got blurry. Her voice cracked,

“It was so unexpected and stupid that I didn't have any idea what to tell him, and the moment I started talking he… he did this.”

Haley turned away, angrily wiping her tears with the back of her hands.

Silence took over the room. Ethan rubbed his forehead, his eyes closed. He was Horrified and feeling slightly guilty, though he didn't know the exact reason. They've never crossed a line, but maybe their close friendship had not been such a good idea. Maybe he should have known better.

“I had no idea..., I'm sorry if I gave the wrong impression...” He said in a low whisper, eyes on the floor, unable to look into her tearful eyes.

Haley smiled at him through the tears.

“It was not your fault, or mine... He just saw you once at the party.” She let out a bitter laugh. “We didn't even talk that much!”

“Do you want me to talk to him? I can explain… that this is all a misunderstanding.” And put that jerk in his place, he thought.

“Can you? It will make everything worse. Let's not talk about it anymore, I'm exhausted. I’ll talk to him tomorrow and… we'll figure it out…one way or another.”

Ethan dropped the conversation. He was struggling with the load of information that had been revealed to him. It was hard to concentrate on their current task and he was feeling the urge to cheer Haley up.

“I think we need a break.” Ethan said as he took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes.

“Coffee?” Haley asked with a tired smile. She’d found it so endearing that she couldn't help but smile each time the demanding Dr. Ramsey took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, transforming from Dr. Terminator to a tired, approachable Ethan.

“Yes, but not here.” Ethan said, smiling back at her.

10 minutes later they were both on the hospital rooftop, sitting next to each other, sipping their coffee in comfortable silence.

“Dr. Ramsey?”

“Yes?”

Haley looked up at him,“Thank you for today.” She said in a low voice. As if saying it out loud would break the spell, ruining the contentment she felt in his presence.

Ethan's eyes softened, his voice also barely audible,“It was no problem at all.”

Another few minutes passed, neither of them wanted to leave. Haley broke the silence,

“And may I add, I'm not gonna suddenly burst into flames, so you can stop monitoring me.” She said as a playful smile spread across her pretty face.

Ethan scoffed, “I'm not monitoring you!”

“Oh come on! You’re so obvious when you’re worried.” Haley grinned.

“I wasn’t worried. I just care about the well-being of my subordinates. That's all.”

Haley turned to him. Raising her eyebrows, she gave him an amused, knowing look.

Ethan kept looking into the distance, trying to maintain his composure. He said with a steady tone. “Stop staring at me, Rookie.”

“ Am I making you uncomfortable?” Haley teased. She kept staring at him with her infectious smile.

She was making him uncomfortable. Ethan wanted to stare back at her, look into her eyes, and kiss her hard until she forgot all that was wrong with the world. But he knew he had to push all of that into the back of his mind, be the Dr. Ramsey, and settle for enjoying their playful banter for now.

“Nobody can make me uncomfortable.” He retorted, the corners of his lips curling into a small smile.

“Suuuure.” Haley said with a giggle.

In the evening of the following day , Haley's shift had ended. As she was walking towards the nurse station, she saw a figure at the entrance that made her freeze in her place. Alex was standing there with a huge bouquet of red roses, her favorite flower. A timid smile on his face.

Haley Felt her blood boiling. What was he thinking? That he could hurt her, then buy her flowers and everything will be OK? She wasn't going to let him manipulate her like that.

Haley marched towards Alex, ready to give him a piece of her mind. But when she got closer and took a closer look at him, she lost her determination. She saw the dark circles under his eyes. It was obvious he had a sleepless night. It was hard to believe he was the same man who hit her only two days ago.

“There is no point in making a scene here, I should go home and talk to him in private.” She thought to herself, feeling uneasy.

“Haley, would you please come home? I will do anything for you to forgive me. Just… please, let's go home.”

It seemed like Alex was genuinely sorry. And Haley couldn't stay in the hospital forever. It was time to go. Haley reluctantly took his hand that was reached out to her, though she grimaced and turned away as their hands touched. That was when she locked eyes with Ethan, standing in the shadow in a corner.

Despite his efforts not to give anything away, Haley saw how his jaw tightened, his hardened expression, and how his lips were pursuing together. Of course, he wasn't happy with her decision. He would have punched Alex right there and then if he could. Ethan never tolerated jerks, that was because of his kind heart that Haley adored so much. But there was something else in his eyes. Was it … melancholy? Was he sad that she was leaving with Alex or was she imagining things?

Ethan was standing down the hall, there was a pang of pain in his heart, watching Haley leave with her abusive husband. It was taking all his willpower not to do anything, not to wrap her in his arms and prevent her from leaving. Ethan was clutching the chart in his hand so hard that his fingertips had turned white.

“Why are you doing this to yourself? He doesn't deserve you.” He thought.

Before exiting the hospital, Haley took one last uneasy look at Ethan's agitated face, and the automatic doors closed behind her.

Later that night

Ethan had been tossing and turning in his bed for hours. His mind was occupied by the thought of Haley and how she was doing. He simply couldn't fall asleep, knowing that Haley was alone with an aggressive man, and it was possible that she was getting hurt right at that moment. The thought of that made his stomach twist. Ethan grabbed his phone and opened her chat.

“Everything alright?” He typed. But when he was about to hit send, he hesitated. He was the reason for their fight in the first place. He was the reason she got hurt. Was he seriously going to send her a text in the middle of the night and make everything worse?? “Dear God I'm losing my senses.” Ethan thought. He discarded the message and put his phone back on the nightstand.

What he didn't know was that a few blocks away, Haley was also restless in her bed, haunted by the look on Ethan's face when she was leaving.

When Haley grabbed her phone and opened their chat, she was surprised to see Ethan typing something. She smiled, feeling a warmth in her heart. But the message never came.

Haley started typing, “I'm fine, don't worry about me.” When she was about to send the message, she also hesitated, “Am I gonna send a non-work-related message to my boss in the middle of the night? No wonder Alex is being so paranoid!” What was she thinking? If she wanted her marriage to work, she needed to set up boundaries. Ethan was her boss, that was all. She put aside her phone and tried to go to sleep, though her heart was struggling to accept the distance she was going to put between the two of them.