#literally splitting open cause of my hand washing

[awetistic-things]

goddamn this contamination ocd shit kicking my ass

[delulujuls]

go ahead and cry little boy | aegon II targaryen

hi, i literally have nothing in my defense with this one. aegon's just a baby who needs some comfort okay? and who i am to judge him for that

GIVE THIS BOY SOME PEACE FR

summary: no one sees aegon as a hurt boy who is hungry for love. however, there is someone who is willing to fix him and give him her whole heart

warnings: fluff without much plot basically, pure mommy issues (nothing sexual imo, alottt of comfort though) (yes, he's calling reader mommy), slight breast play in the end

pairing: fem!servant reader x aegon targaryen

The young prince stormed into his chamber like a tempest, freezing the blood of all the maids who were busy tidying up inside.

"Out, get out!," he commanded angrily, though despite his anger, his voice trembled.

The maids left everything and hastily began to leave the chamber, but one of them didn't move an inch. Aegon wiped his bleeding nose with the back of his hand, smearing not only blood but also tears on his face. When he noticed that one of the women was still inside, he became even angrier. He was angry because she saw the heir to the throne in such a pitiful state.

"Are you deaf?" he growled, "I told you to get the fuck out of here."

"I heard you the first time, my prince," she replied calmly. His anger did not scare her, for she did not see a raging lion before her but a defensively postured kitten. "But before I go, I ask that I may tend to you."

"I'm not a child," he muttered, turning his back to her and pouring himself some wine. "Leave before I order your fingers cut off."

"As you wish, my prince," she looked at him one last time. On her way out, she grabbed one of the maester's solutions and placed it on the cabinet. She didn't look at the prince again, but obediently grabbed the door handle. Aegon turned towards her, taking a sip of wine that washed the blood from his lips. He grimaced at the metallic taste and sighed, setting the goblet aside.

"Wait," he sighed, "I allow you to fix me up."

The woman turned from the door and looked towards the prince. His pale, blood-stained face had lost its combativeness, and tears streamed from his large, violet eyes.

She took the solution from the cabinet and knelt, reaching for some small-cutted pieces of cloth.

Aegon sat on the bed, and soon after, the woman did the same.

"May I touch your face, my prince?" she asked, wanting to ensure that the angry heir had not changed his mind.

"Without it, it will be rather hard for you to tend to me," he muttered, "Just do it, quickly."

The woman nodded and opened a small vial, pressing a cloth to its opening and soaking it with the liquid. With her other hand, she touched the prince's cheek and turned his face towards her. Aegon kept his eyes lowered, and his wet, tear-clumped eyelashes lightly brushed the top of his cheeks. The woman carefully brushed his hair from his face and pressed the cloth to his bleeding lip, causing him to flinch and hiss quietly, giving her an angry look.

"I know, I'm sorry," she said softly, placing her other hand on the back of his head, not wanting him to move. She gave him an apologetic smile and once again gently pressed the soaked cloth to his split lip.

Seeing her smile, the nervous grimace on Aegon's face softened. Did she just… smile at him? When was the last time someone smiled at him?

After a moment, the woman set aside the bloody cloth and took a new one, soaking it again with the solution. She wiped the blood from under his nose and pressed it lightly to stop the bleeding.

"It would be good if you lay down, my prince," she said. Aegon lay down without a word, resting his head on her lap. The woman smiled involuntarily and again pressed the cloth to his bleeding nostril.

Aegon avoided her gaze, but when she began to gently wipe his tears, he looked at her face. He paid no attention to the people in the castle, and certainly not to the servants. However, he could swear that he was seeing the woman for the first time in his life.

She seemed to be no more than ten years older than him, but she looked younger than his mother. A carefully braided plait lay on her shoulder, reaching past her breasts. Her eyes were large, and her lips pink. She did not look like a servant.

"Who are you?" he asked quietly, less confidently than he intended. His violet eyes watched her face intently and focused on the small smile that stretched her lips.

"I serve the royal family, my prince."

"You don't look like a servant," he replied, to which the woman stifled a laugh. "What's your name?"

"It's not important, my prince," she replied, setting aside the dirty cloths. She touched his cheek and gently turned his face towards her, wanting to check if she had thoroughly cleaned him of blood and tears. Her tender touch on his face was like a balm after Alicent's hit.

"All done," she announced, giving him a smile and withdrawing her hand. He caught it and pressed it back to his cheek.

"Don't stop," he commanded, though it sounded more like a plea. The woman nodded and stroked his cheek with her thumb, gently caressing him. She placed her other hand on his head and began to lightly comb through his hair with her fingers. Aegon closed his eyes, feeling a sense of peace wash over him.

Aegon Targaryen, second of his name, eldest son of Viserys the First and heir to the Iron Throne, despite his young age, did not enjoy a good reputation. Everyone who knew Aegon, and even those who were completely strangers to him, had only bad things to say about him. The young prince had been causing trouble since his earliest years – he did not want to study, slept in, started drinking as soon as he could reach for a jug of wine, and was rude, arrogant, and cruel. Many believed that the young prince needed not the Iron Throne, but iron discipline. Aegon, however, needed love and understanding. He needed someone who would give him attention and see the hurt child who had ingrained in his mind that he had to act out to get attention. He was willing to pay that price even if it involved shouting and painful blows.

The woman on whose lap he lay saw not a cruel prince but a hurt boy. She saw someone in need of tenderness, not cruelty. A child in need of warmth. Despite having lived through twenty springs, Aegon still harbored a child's heart in his hardened chest.

"I'm sure they never loved me," he spoke suddenly. "Maybe for the first few days after I was born. But that's it."

"Why do you think so, my prince?" she asked, looking at him tenderly. She continued to stroke his cheek and hair.

"What kind of mother raises her hand to her child?" he asked, looking up at her face. "What kind of father says to your face that it would have been better if you were never born?"

The woman sighed and tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear.

"In anger, one can do much and say even more, my prince," she said. "But that doesn't mean you are not dear to them. Their mistake, however, is that they do not know how to love."

Aegon watched her face with his violet gaze and listened intently to her pleasant voice.

"That is the downfall of great rulers, my sweet prince," she smiled, looking into his eyes. "They know how to rule people, but they cannot manage their own feelings."

From that day on, the meetings between the servant and the young prince became a daily custom. The woman visited him every night, and he would lie on her lap and talk about everything that troubled him. She would listen attentively, running her fingers through his white hair that shone like hot gold. She listened as he spoke of his anger at his brother, arguments with his mother, quarrels with his father. She also listened as he spoke with a smile about his dragon, about his travels, and how much he wished to leave King's Landing.

"Would you run away with me?" he asked one night when she was lying on his bed with her back against the wall, and he was lying on his side with his head on her lap. He was naked, covered only by a sheet almost as white as his skin. His violet eyes were so full of hope that the woman couldn't help but smile fondly.

"Of course, my sweet prince," she stroked his cheek. "But I fear no dragon would take me in its saddle."

"Oh, Sunfyre would love you," he smiled. "You should meet him, and we should go for a ride!"

The woman chuckled, stroking his head. "I'd love to meet your dragon, but I hope I won't become his meal."

Aegon yawned and snuggled closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in her stomach.

"Sunfyre won't hurt you," he assured with his face hidden in the folds of her dress. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

The servant smiled at his words and hugged him, holding him close.

In the evenings, her sweet prince did not resemble the cruel and wicked heir to the king that he sometimes was during the day. However, it happened less and less often. He himself didn't think his behavior had changed since he started spending time with the woman, but his sister was the first to notice.

"You have a good effect on him," Helaena remarked at one point. She was sitting on the floor reading in her chamber while the woman was changing the sheets. "He has become… less cruel."

The servant smiled and glanced at the young princess, who was still engrossed in her book. She did not say a word in response.

Aemond also noticed his brother's unusual behavior and heard rumors about Aegon not spending his evenings alone.

"Quite hypocritical of you," he began when the Small Council meeting ended and they were left alone at the table. The guards were still present, so he spoke in High Valyrian, "You criticized me for visiting Silk Street, but you lie with a whore yourself."

"Watch your words, or you’ll lose your other eye," he replied sharply, looking at his face. "She is not a whore."

"Then what? A prostitute?"

"Enough!" he thundered, standing and slamming his fist on the table. "This is none of your business!"

Aemond laughed. "Why so angry, dear brother? This whore must be truly dear to you if my words upset you so much."

Furious, Aegon drew a dagger and lunged at his brother, but the guards restrained him. Aemond remained seated, amused, twirling a voting ball in his hand.

"She is not a whore!" Aegon shouted. "Call her that again, and I’ll have your tongue for that!"

He freed himself from the guards' grip and stormed out of the chamber. Aemond smirked. He knew well that the maid was not a whore. Aegon didn’t care about whores and would never have been so enraged if the woman he spent his evenings with was truly one of them.

The young prince walked briskly, tears of rage stinging his eyes. It was only early noon, so he knew the woman was not in his chambers. He didn't even know whom to ask for. Although she was close to him, he didn’t even know her name. This realization turned his stomach, making the heir to the throne feel even worse.

Aegon wandered through the castle, searching for the woman, but with each passing minute, he became more and more disheartened. He felt like a child trying to find his mother in a crowded market. Defeated, he sat on the stairs and buried his face in his hands, sobbing bitterly.

"Oh, my sweet prince," after some time, a tender, familiar voice spoke above his head. Aegon quickly lifted his head and, upon seeing the woman, immediately grabbed her legs and hugged her tightly, burying his face in her apron.

"It’s alright," she assured, placing one hand on his shoulder and stroking his head with the other. He trembled, holding her as if she were a lifeline. "Come, I’ll take care of you."

Moments later, they were in Aegon's chamber. The young prince lay with his head on the maid's lap as she slowly ran her fingers through his hair. He no longer cried, but his gaze was distant.

"Do you want to tell me what brought you to tears, my dear?"

Her words snapped Aegon out of his thoughts, and he looked at her face. Remembering his brother's words, he was overcome with anger again and lowered his gaze.

"Aemond is an idiot," he admitted, reaching for the woman's braid and playing with it. "So, nothing you haven't heard before."

The woman smiled and took back her braid, gently tickling his face with it. Aegon brightened immediately and closed his eyes, allowing her to stroke his face with her hair.

"You are his older brother, my sweet," she said after a moment, letting go of the braid and touching his cheek with her hand. "He will always try to unsettle you. He knows no other way to assert his presence and make you acknowledge him."

"How is it that you always have an answer for everything?" he asked, looking at her face. "You always know what to say to me."

The woman just smiled in response. Aegon looked at her silently, tracing her facial features with his eyes. After a moment, he raised his hand and twirled a loose strand of her hair around his finger.

"You are beautiful,"

The maid laughed at his words and took his hand, placing a tender kiss in its palm. Aegon looked at his hand and then back at her face. Surprised by her sudden gesture, he didn't know what to say. The woman noticed that her impulsive act had slightly embarrassed the young prince.

"I'm sorry, I—," "Kiss me," he interrupted, touching her cheek with the hand she had just kissed. "Please," he added almost in a whisper, seeing hesitation on her face.

The woman smiled and touched his cheek, leaning in to kiss his forehead. Though it wasn't what Aegon expected, the gesture was incredibly comforting. It didn't stop at one kiss, for she slowly kissed first one, then the other of his cheeks. Aegon smiled slightly and closed his eyes as she kissed the tip of his nose and chin. Just when he thought she would pull away, she planted a gentle kiss on his lips. It felt like a brush of butterfly's wings. Aegon felt his breath catch in his throat. When he sensed her pulling away, he opened his eyes and gazed at her face, mesmerized. No one had ever treated him so tenderly.

"Can I-," he began uncertainly and had to clear his throat because his voice caught. "Can I do the same?"

The woman smiled and nodded. Aegon sat up and moved closer to her, nervously licking his lips. He lifted his hand and touched her cheek, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. He tried to be as delicate as she had been moments earlier, even catching himself holding his breath. The maid closed her eyes and smiled slightly, feeling his thumb caressing one cheek while his lips rested on the other. Aegon also kissed her nose and chin, and finally, with utmost reverence, placed a kiss on her lips.

When he pulled back, the woman opened her eyes again. She felt a blush rising on her cheeks.

"You are the most charming young man in all the Seven Kingdoms, my sweet prince," she said, making Aegon blush as well. So she didn't see him as a cruel, spoiled brat. He was more than that to her.

"Am I important to you?"

He asked as he lay back on her lap, and her fingers returned to combing through his hair.

"Of course, my dear," she smiled. "You are my sweet prince, after all, aren't you?"

Aegon smiled and nodded. Despite the early hour, he sleepily nuzzled his face into her stomach.

"I love you, mommy," he said, and only when he heard what had just left his mouth did he freeze. He didn't know what was more embarrassing – the fact that he confessed his love or that he called her that. He blushed even more and looked at her face, wanting to explain, but she laughed merrily and leaned over, kissing his cheek.

"It's all right, my sweet," she assured, running her hand through his hair. "You haven't insulted me at all."

The embarrassed heir hugged her waist and buried his face deeper into her belly, as if wanting to hide. She laughed softly and lovingly kissed his hair.

From that day on, the pair grew even closer, and with each evening spent together, Aegon began to realize that she was like a mother to him. She didn’t behave like Alicent—Seven save him—but like a real mother. He felt her love and knew he was dear to her, and when in her embrace, it seemed as if all the world's evil vanished. Over time, calling her as he had that day became almost natural.

Sometimes, however, when seeking comfort, he would end up not in her soft and safe arms but in the bitter, burning grip of alcohol. One evening, he staggered into his chambers drunk, unable to stay on his feet. Two of his knights had brought him to rest, but the moment they released his arms, he fell to the floor like a ragdoll.

The woman quickly dismissed the men, and once they closed the door behind them, she knelt by Aegon and took his face in her hands. Her sweet prince was completely drunk. His hair was disheveled, his cheeks flushed, his eyes vacant, and his lips kept breaking into a soft giggle. His clothes were soaked with wine and ale, and the bitter smell began to fill the room. When Aegon managed to focus his eyes for a moment and saw her before him, he happily threw himself around her neck. The maid embraced him and helped him to his feet, which was quite a challenge.

“Mommy, my sweet mommy,” he kissed her cheek a dozen times before she seated him on the bed. “I missed you so much, mommy, you know?”

“Did you miss me?” she asked, kneeling before him and slipping off his boots. “Is that why you came so late?”

Aegon smiled for a moment, but when the meaning of her words sank in, his smile faded. The tone in her voice was not angry—absolutely not. It was calm, perhaps tinged with a hint of sadness. Aegon felt bad. And it wasn’t the alcohol.

“Mommy?” he began, looking at her blurry face, which was turned away from him. “Did I make you mad?”

She didn’t answer, only stood up and reached for the clasp of his necklace, soon setting it aside. Aegon swallowed hard and felt tears welling in his eyes.

“Mommy…”

“You made me sad, not mad, my sweet prince,” she replied. She began unbuttoning his clothing but didn’t look at his face. Aegon grabbed her hand and pressed it to his lips, then to his cheek.

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to…” he stammered, as two large tears rolled down his cheeks. His wet eyes looked at her as if she hung the stars in the sky every night and tonight she wouldn't. “I’m so sorry, I really am.”

“It’s all right,” she assured, stroking his cheek with her thumb. She looked into his eyes, wanting her words to sound more convincing. “I’ll undress you and help you wash, okay? A bath will do you good.”

The young prince obediently nodded and sniffled. He felt terrible. He felt even worse when she undressed him and seated him in the tub of hot water. When she slowly poured water over his back and shoulders, and when she washed his hair with gentle, circular motions. He didn’t deserve this after what he did, he thought. She should slap him, spit on him, and scream at him as Alicent sometimes did. Aegon sat silently, his tears repeatedly breaking the water's surface. One thought occupied his mind—he had made his mommy sad.

“Don’t be sad, my sweet prince,” she said as she knelt before him and began washing his chest with a sponge. “Tears will only hasten the headache.”

“I’m so stupid,” he sobbed, gripping his hair tightly. “I always have to ruin everything!”

She quickly untangled his fingers from his hair and moved his hands aside, kissing each one.

“You’re not stupid, Aegon,” she said, looking at him. She very rarely used his name. “If you wish, we can talk about this tomorrow. Tonight, you should only rest.”

The young prince looked at her in silence, his gaze tracing her face. He wanted reassurance, to find in her features the answer that his misstep hadn’t changed anything between them.

“I love you,” he said, his lip trembling.

She smiled and touched his cheek, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

“I love you too, sweet prince. Now let’s get you to bed.”

When Aegon fell onto the pillows, she covered him with a sheet. She sat beside him and took his hand in hers. He looked at her, devastated.

“Won’t you lie with me?” he asked, his voice breaking, tears streaming down his cheeks again. “No cuddles?”

“You’re breaking my heart, my sweet,” she kissed his hand. “How could I not cuddle you in this state?”

Aegon sniffled and quickly moved over, making room for her. She took off her headscarf and set it aside, undressing. Clad only in her shirt, she took her place beside him, and he immediately nestled against her.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, holding her tightly. “Mother is right, I’m awful.”

“You’re not awful,” she replied calmly, stroking his back, which was shaking with sobs. “I’ve never thought that about you, my prince.”

Aegon lifted his head and looked at her tearfully. “Not even now?”

She smiled and kissed his forehead.

“Of course not. How could my little sweet boy be awful?”

Aegon rested his head on her chest and closed his eyes. He held her tightly, listening to her heartbeat, while she gently stroked his back. She began to hum softly.

The young prince felt as if his head weighed a ton. The world was spinning around him, his nose was clogged from crying, and his restless mind kept trying to convince him that she was mad at him. All this made Aegon exhausted, but sleep wouldn’t come.

He murmured in frustration and buried his face deeper into her chest. He fidgeted so much that one of her shirt buttons came undone, and his nose encountered her soft skin instead of fabric. Still with his eyes closed, the prince tried to find more of her body with his face. She laughed softly at this desperate act.

“I can undo the buttons if that’s what you want, my sweet,” she ran her hand through his hair, and Aegon quickly nodded, looking up at her. He obediently moved aside, and she unbuttoned a few buttons of her shirt. With each one, Aegon’s pupils grew larger. After a moment, she smiled encouragingly at him, and he wordlessly buried his face in her warm, bare chest. The soft skin surrounded him on all sides, and he couldn’t help but plant a few kisses on it.

The maid smiled and closed her eyes. She leaned her head against the headboard, still holding him close and stroking his back. She didn’t pay much attention when Aegon turned on his side, facing her, but she was surprised when she felt him latch onto her nipple.

She looked down at her body and immediately met his big, wet eyes, looking at her apologetically.

“Can I?” he asked quietly. She just smiled and nodded. Aegon weakly returned her smile and kissed her nipple, running his tongue over it before latching on again. Though no milk flowed from it, the act itself calmed the young prince immensely. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, the wet lashes settling on his tear-streaked cheeks. She held him tenderly, gently rocking him in her arms.

“The night may be dark and full of terrors, but in my arms, nothing can harm you, my sweet,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

"You are safe."

[kleftiko]

Hi! Idk if your request is opened or not but if it is, I'd like to request a headcanon for Knb if that's alright?

My request is : How would GOM + Kagami react when their s/o walk in on them taking a shower naked and just casually invite themselves taking a shower with the boys?

❦ SHOWER TIME

cw: this is fluff, but language and nudity [ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP]

—kuroko

in a strange turn of events, you end up startling your boyfriend. the bathroom door is slightly open, the sound of running water and slight humming floats through the apartment. you decide that you should probably get clean too as you step into the steamy room. tetsuya doesn’t hear you undressing, or stepping into the shower. it’s only when your cold hands wrap around his waist that he shrieks and spins around—nearly slipping—eyes wide and startled for a split second until he realizes it’s you. then his expression falls into his signature calm smile.

“hi, sweetheart.”

—kagami

you go in the bathroom to pee, and as soon as you make a noise, taiga peers around the curtain with a judgemental look.

“what are you doing?” he asks, shampoo comically in his hair.

you blink. “using the bathroom.”

he sends you a stink eye before closing the curtains and going back to what he was doing. you know he likes his alone time in the shower, but the apartment only had one bathroom, and you like to annoy him (with love). so when you strip down and attempt to join him in the shower you need to wrestle the curtain away from him because he’s using it to cover himself lol.

—murasakibara

he likes when you sit in the bathroom while he showers. you can tell him about your day and he can poke his head out for you to feed him a little snack. it’s not often that you shower with him because the logistics of the shower head and the height difference was always a hassle. until you renovated your shower to a ceiling head, now when he’s finished his himemaru, you can just join him under the water and he can pull you close and prevent you from moving cause “you’re so cute and cuddly, y/n-chin.”

and you stay like that until your body feels like two different temperatures.

—aomine

you enter the bathroom.

“fuck, daiki, it stinks in here.”

“i had to shit, you’re the one that interrupted my shower.”

despite that, you strip down and pull the curtain dramatically to announce that you intend to join him. and this motherfucker is under the water, head tilted back to rinse out his shampoo, eyes looking down at you with a smirk as he says, “just can’t get enough of me, huh?”

so turn the water to cold so he shrieks :)

bonus fem!reader: soapy tits are his weakness. if you ever want anything from him, hop in the shower and ask lol his eyes don’t leave your chest but he’s nodding along to whatever you’re saying. you could ask for a yacht and he’d agree

—kise

doesn’t want to shower without you tbh. he’s usually inviting you to join him, but not in a sexual way. he’s one of those people who blasts music while in the bathroom and likes to perform concerts, so he needs his back up singer. he’ll shampoo his hair into spikes and start screaming punk, it’s your responsibility to play air guitar and ad lib. on the rare occasions that he’s showering by himself and you decide to join him halfway through, his smile is wide, and his introduction goes, “ladies and gentlemen, my backup guitarists!”

—akashi

literally love him. if you open the bathroom door while he’s showering he assumes something is wrong.

“darling? are you alright?” his soft voice just makes you melt, but you assure him that you just want to join him. and he is delighted! in fact, he proposes a bath after you two wash up. he loves having you between his legs, back against his chest while you’re surrounded by bubbles. he’s one of those people that loves non sexual intimacy, so if you turn around and give him a bubble beard, he’ll just watch you with hearts in his eyes.

—midorima

locks the door so you can’t get in. if you’re persistent—knocking, calling his name, etc.—he’ll step out of the shower, towel around his waist, and open the door with an annoyed scowl. you just smile sweetly and hop under the running water. he’s muttering under his breathe at how much of a handful you are, but he’s washing your body carefully and making sure soap doesn’t get in your eyes <3

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part Nine

Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader

Summary: You spend the weekend looking after Miguel after his encounter with the Green Goblin.

Word Count: 22,193 (I saw the word count at 16K on Friday and my face was literally the second photo on this post after I remembered saying in the last update that the remaining chapters wouldn't exceed that part's word count. I'm sorry if this hard to read because of the length, by the way. I thought of splitting it and doing two parts (9A & 9B) but... I'm just going with this.)

Warnings: Mention of dry blood; Mention of wounds; Mention of syringe; Bland hospital food; Miguel is a bit grumpy at times but who can blame him?; This chapter really shows how I'd look after Miguel if he was hurt, my simpness for Miguel jumped out a lot in this one

Music inspo while writing:

"First Date" - Bill Conti

"Near Town" - The Amazing Broken Man

"Feels Like We Only Go Backwards" - Imaginary Future (cover)

"Nonviolent Communication" - Metro Boomin, James Blake, A$AP Rocky, 21 Savage

"Mia & Sebastian's Theme (Celeste)" - Justin Hurwitz

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

Part Nine

Miguel whispers your name, and it takes everything in you to hold back tears as relief washes over you. Your heart races but in a different way than it did hours ago when you were desperately trying to find him. It’s now racing from happiness that he’s awake.

“Miguel,” you whisper with a gentle smile, standing next to him.

Miguel’s eyes flutter close for a few seconds before he opens them again, his gaze meeting yours.

“Calling…” he mumbles. “Me.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion but you nod regardless. “It’s okay, Miguel. You’re doing good. You’ll recover soon, I promise,” you tell him gently. “Are you cold?” you ask, as you look down at the blanket you placed on him earlier after he was declared in stable condition again.

You feel a shiver run down your back as you hear the medical professionals’ voices in your head, repeating that they were losing Miguel. You close your eyes tightly for a few seconds and will those thoughts away. You can’t take it. You open them again and look at Miguel.

“Are you cold?” you ask again, pulling the blanket higher up his body.

“Stay…” he mumbles, closing his eyes again.

You stare at him, heart aching. You swallow the knot in your throat.

“I’ll – I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” you whisper, gently fixing the blanket to cover him. “I’ll stay.”

Miguel nods slowly and in a few seconds he’s asleep again. Tears roll down your face for the third time in only a few hours. You softly wipe them away with the back of your suited hand. You take a step back and release another shaky breath, feeling the knot in your throat grow. You turn away from him, pressing your hand to your mouth as you stare at the wall.

Ever since you woke up, you’ve felt every imaginable emotion in the span of a few hours. You feel emotionally tired, but don’t dare rest, especially after what happened. After losing him.

You take a deep breath as tears flow freely down your face, but you find it difficult to do so for a few seconds. It’s as if you’ve been holding back this entire time and you just can’t hold back the tears anymore, causing you to feel like you’re unable to even breathe. And of course, it’s a familiar feeling. One you’ve only ever felt with Peter’s death. You furiously wipe away your tears, but they keep falling, blurring your vision.

You finally turn back to Miguel, still crying. His relaxed sleeping face brings you comfort, helping you breathe normally again. You sigh deeply as you take a closer step and watch over him again, tears still flowing. You feel the urge to touch him, almost as if to make sure he really is there and it’s not just your imagination playing tricks. You tentatively lay a hand over his arm, layers of fabric preventing skin to skin contact but it still brings you comfort and peace.

Miguel is here and alive. His chest rises and falls softly. His heart rate is displayed on the heart monitor. You can hear his soft breathing. And you can feel his body’s warmth, which comforts you, as you remember how cold his skin felt even through your suit when you found him on that rooftop.

Miguel is alive.

You keep repeating this in your head as you stand next to him, your hand still over his arm. It seems to help you calm down and your tears slow down until they eventually cease, leaving your face feeling puffy and damp but you could care less right now. All you care about is that Miguel is alive.

That your friend is alive.

You stand near the bed for a while. You don’t know how much time goes by. The nurses come in and check on Miguel occasionally, finding you near the bed each time like a guardian. All the while, Miguel sleeps peacefully. He shifts ever so gently but he’s not restless anymore. You eventually take a seat on your chair again, feeling exhausted but unable to take even a fifteen-minute nap. You feel as though you must guard every second. Just in case. You do cover your body with a blanket one of the nurses brought you earlier, warming yourself up as the room is cold. You also fix a pillow they gave you to support your back and then you sit there and watch over Miguel.

You don’t even find it in yourself to use the tablet Ben Reilly brought you earlier. It lies abandoned on the table in the family area of the room. You simply sit there, watching over Miguel and occasionally looking towards the windows. The sky is grey and gloomy, but brighter now. The rain is still there, making you wonder if it’ll stick around all day. The pit pat of rain against the windows is heard through the room along with the heart monitor’s quiet beeping but your ears focus on one thing only and that’s Miguel’s even and gentle breathing.

As you listen to it, while gazing at him, your mind reminds you of the fact that for a few minutes, his breathing ceased. You see his unmoving chest in your mind suddenly; his body was completely still. He was gone. And for the second time in your life, you felt so helpless as you stood there, repeating “No” inside your mind. You remember saying his name, calling out to him. You wanted to take hold of him and beg him not to give up. Not now. You thought of his family, and though you fleetingly thought you had no right to, you prayed that if they were out there somewhere, that they’d tell him to come back because… you couldn’t bear the thought of him dying. You couldn’t bear the thought that this man, with so much life still ahead of him, could really be gone just like that. And then it happened. The medical team resuscitated him. His chest began to move, and the heart monitor started to display his heartbeat again. He was alive. He didn’t give up.  

And it felt like you yourself could finally breath again as you thanked his late wife, Gabriel, and sweet Gabriella, for you don’t know what you would’ve done if… you can’t even think about it. What would life be like without Miguel? It’s about to be a year since you joined the Spider Society and so much has changed since then. You never guessed Miguel would be a constant in your life the first time you met him. He was so serious and distant. His mind was far away as he gave you a simple and cold welcome before he walked off, carrying the weight of the multiverse on top of an array of emotions on his shoulders that you could’ve never imagined he was dealing with.

You shake your head softly, almost in disbelief. It’s amazing how much can happen in one year. You went from knowing very little about Miguel to now knowing about his brother and mother, about his short time with Gabriella and his wife, to sharing cake on Peter’s birthday and eating conchas and candy on Dia de los Muertos to designing Christmas ornaments and welcoming the new year at his penthouse.

And it all started that day you felt so unwell due to your period. You find yourself wondering if any of this would’ve happened if it wasn’t for that day. And the possibility that none of it would’ve happened makes you thankful for that day, even if you were in pain and discomfort because it led to something you never imagined.

Though you still have no idea how Miguel feels about your interactions, you consider him a close friend. You chat with him and Lyla when you organize the lab. You talk before the meetings start over coffee. You’ve gone on more missions with him than some of the members who joined before you have. You take him lunch sometimes when you head to the lab to organize it, and he happily accepts the empanadas, which you’ve learned are definitely a favorite of his. After the holidays, you’ve made him smile more and even earned yourself low chuckles, both a nonexistent sight and sound for everyone else.

And yet, neither of you have said it yet; that you’re friends. So, it’s up in the air between the two of you for now but you’re okay with it. You know it’ll be a while before Miguel admits it if he thinks of you as a friend, too. And you’ll hold back from saying it for as long as you can for his sake.

You sigh deeply and try to clear your thoughts before you check the time. It’s now past 8 A.M.. When you returned home from Peter and Mary Jane’s universe, you never expected the night to take such a turn. It seems unbelievable.

You went to sleep peacefully, under your warm bed sheets in the same bed you shared with Peter. You were tired and sleepy, and found sleep easily only to be awakened by your spider senses, alerting you something was wrong.

As you stare at Miguel’s face, this simple fact hangs over you. Your spider senses went off because of him despite being in completely different universes. You bring a hand to your temple, wondering how that’s even possible, but you don’t have much time to think about it as the room’s door opens. You turn around and find Jess and Peter. You get up quickly, pushing the blanket off you and turn to face them.

With everything that happened and your emotions a wreck, you never notified them about Miguel’s heart failing but when you look at them, you see it on their faces. There’s pain in their expressions as they scan your face, which shows signs of crying and exhaustion, and their expressions soften.

“Oh Y/N…”  Peter whispers softly, before he quickly approaches, pulling you in for a hug.

You let him hold you in his arms and hug him back. You close your eyes for a few seconds, feeling overwhelmed but reassured at the same time now that they’re here.

“The medical team told us what happened,” Jess begins as she watches Peter and you embrace each other.

Peter lets go gently, though he wraps an arm around your shoulders, making you feel comforted. You give him a sad smile. Peter was the second person you were introduced to when you were first recruited, Miguel being the first one. And once you were accepted, you were introduced to Peter, who immediately presented you to his group of friends and well, the rest is history now. There are times in which it feels like Peter looks over you as some kind of parent because of the age gap. And it’s exactly how he’s looking at you right now after learning what you went through on your own.

“Y/N… I’m so sorry you were here alone,” Jess says gently. “I never thought…”

For once, the second in command of the Spider Society seems at a loss for words. You nod slowly.

“I don’t think any of us expected that… He was in stable condition already,” you answer softly as your eyes return to Miguel. “It just happened out of nowhere…” you add trailing off, briefly taken back to those minutes.

Jess nods and brings a hand to her temple, feeling an ache after the long night. The news of Miguel briefly passing away only added to it, but she feels a sense of relief as she joins you and Peter in watching Miguel sleep peacefully. Miguel is alive. 

You feel Jess’s hand on your forearm, making you turn. She gives you a pained smile.

“I wish someone else would’ve been here with you. I know it must’ve been – hard,” she says solemnly, knowing about Peter’s death and what a toll it’s taken on you in so many ways from leaving you with no family or friends. She feels a pang in her chest for you, for she never imagined you’d see death again today.

You give her a reassuring smile. “I wish so, too, but all that matters now is that Miguel is in stable condition. He’s been sleeping peacefully,” you say as you take a step closer, motioning for them to join you, tugging Peter along with you as his arm is still around your shoulders. “He woke up a little while ago, it was just for a few seconds before he fell asleep again though,” you share but don’t mention that Miguel asked you to stay.

The three of you watch Miguel sleep quietly for a few minutes. It’s a strange sight to see Miguel O’Hara’s face so peaceful and though no one says it, none of you can help but feel heartbroken that it took this to see it.

Jess clears her throat, nodding and feeling relieved that Miguel is well now. All that is left is recovering from his injuries. She stares at him for a few seconds, feeling a little in disbelief now. She’s always warned him about heading out on missions alone at night, but she never thought something like this would happen. She’s just glad that… you found him. That fact comes back to her mind. The last hours have been spent figuring out how to get the system back in order and then directing members to find the anomalies that Miguel was dealing with, but it comes back to her at this moment when things seem to have settled a bit. She wanted to ask earlier when Miguel was first transported but she knew it wasn’t the time to ask.

She turns to you now, seeing that you’re still in your suit. Your hair is a bit of a mess after the search and the rain when you took your mask off to shield Miguel’s face from it, another gesture Jess noticed on top of you giving him your gizmo. Jess decides to put her curiosity aside. For now.

“You should go home. Change clothes or shower,” Jess says, making you turn.

“Thank you but – ” you start, and she raises a hand.

“Please,” your mentor says softly. “Peter and I’ll stay here while you go. Get a bag ready with clothes and toiletries for the next two days or so. Miguel has some recovery to do, and I trust you to do your duties as my third in command,” she continues. “Which includes sticking around with him while Peter and I lead the Spider Society in his place. If there’s one thing I know about Miguel, it’s that he’s stubborn and he’ll try to wave this whole thing over despite what happened. I think we all agree he’ll need to take it easy, and I trust you’ll help me with that.”

You stare at Jess and finally nod. “Yes, okay… I’ll be back shortly then.”

She nods. “We’ll let you know if something changes.”

You reluctantly leave the room but not before you take one last glance at Miguel.

“Stay…” he said earlier, and you promised you would.

You hurry and leave the infirmary sector, wanting to be back as soon as possible. In about twenty minutes, you shower and dress in normal clothes before you prepare a small travel bag with everything you think you might need. As you’re heading back to the infirmary sector, you notice there are a lot of members at HQ today despite it being Saturday and members having the weekends off, unless there’s some kind of emergency. However, the Spider Society’s HQ is buzzing like it’s Monday, and you connect it to what happened.

You’re surprised once again when you enter the infirmary sector. There are now a lot of balloons, flowers, cards, and baskets with snacks in the waiting area. When you approach the items, a nurse informs you that members have been dropping them off for Miguel. You smile softly as you look at everything, deciding that once you check on Miguel and talk to Jess, you’ll take everything to his room.

When you enter the room, you find Jess and Peter murmuring by the windows. Their conversation immediately ceases before they turn around to face you. You notice there’s now a table next to them with food and cups of coffee. You turn back to them. Peter gives you a nervous smile, making you feel like you were the topic of discussion. You ignore it and walk further into the room, gently placing your travel bag on one of the chairs in the family area of the room, your eyes already on Miguel. He's still asleep.

“How is he?” you ask, walking closer to the bed.

“No change. He’s been sleeping the entire time,” Peter says stepping closer to the bed now, leaving Jess by the windows.

“I had someone bring breakfast,” she says. “I think we all need some food.”

“And coffee,” Peter adds with a sigh, making you turn to see him.

You notice for the first time that your friends also look tired. It really has been a long night for everyone. You yourself feel exhausted now. It’s like your shower made every ache in your body known and as you look at the food, you feel hunger, too. 

The three of you take a seat at the table, everyone reaching for a cup of coffee first before anything else. You eat breakfast, stealing glances at Miguel often. It’s like you’re still trying to make sure he’s there and that nothing’s going wrong. Breakfast is silent as the three of you look out the windows, deep in thought.

It's about twenty minutes later that you finish eating. Peter excuses himself to check on Mary Jane and Mayday, stating he’ll be back shortly. He leaves but not before giving you a reassuring smile on his way out, leaving you and Jess alone. The two of you stand by the windows, looking out at the city. You take a glance at Miguel. He hasn’t shifted in his sleep at all, and he looks peaceful.  

Jess stands next to you, arms crossed over her chest, thinking. She doesn’t fail to notice your glances at Miguel, much like those during breakfast. And of course, there’s one pending question on her mind. After a few minutes of silence, she finally speaks up.

“How did you know?” she asks quietly, still staring out the windows.

Your gaze lands on a nearby skyscraper as you hear her question. You know exactly what she’s talking about and even though you wish you could pretend you have no idea what she’s referring to, you know neither of you have the time nor energy to play this game.

After a minute or so of silence, you sigh deeply. “I don’t know,” you answer honestly, causing Jess to look at you slowly.

She watches you as you stare out the windows, and she can tell from your expression and tone of voice that you genuinely have no idea. You sigh again.

“I don’t know how I knew… I was awakened by my spider senses,” you begin and tell her everything that happened up until she joined the search.

Her gaze is on distant cars as she hears you explain everything, occasionally nodding softly. It makes no sense.

“You also knew where to find him,” she says after you’re done. “I would’ve never thought Miguel would be there, considering we knew he was injured,” she adds, thinking about how you seemed certain about his location, not to mention the way you reached the building. It was as if your life itself depended on it.

Your gaze is still fixed on the skyscraper as she brings up this fact. “On the first mission I joined you guys, we went there – to get a layout of the city since it was my first time visiting that universe. It seemed that he liked the view. I guess, amid everything, I thought he would like to see it again,” you quietly murmur.

Jess nods, thinking. Your spider senses alarmed you that something was wrong, and it was Miguel, who was in another universe, in trouble. She knows it’s possible, she just doesn’t know how. She remembers the events from a year ago when Miles ended up stranded in that same universe, and Gwen realized it thanks to her spider senses, too. Now the two are a thing. Of course, Jess isn’t thinking that you and Miguel have a thing going on, but it does signify something to Jess.

You and Miguel have a connection, and it’s strong enough that you were able to sense his trouble even across the multiverse.

“It’s unexplainable but it might have just saved Miguel’s life,” she says eventually after a few seconds of silence, deciding to keep her thoughts about your connection to Miguel to herself. Instead, she changes the conversation to the anomalies Miguel was pursuing. They’ve been caught and sent back to their respective universes. She also notifies you that other members will be taking shifts patrolling your universe while you’re here with Miguel.

Jess sticks around for a little while longer before she heads out to attend to her duties. Once she heads out, you take the time to bring everything left in the waiting room for Miguel into the room, placing it in the family area so that he’ll see it once he wakes up. The hours go by slowly, and you eventually grab the tablet Ben Reilly brought you earlier. You reach out to your friends, who have been asking about you and Miguel’s status. You even reach out to Jess eventually, asking if you can help with anything else but she declines, and so you stay put. You watch over Miguel, fixing his blanket when he moves to make sure he doesn’t get cold.

It's until later in the afternoon that he begins to stir once again. You’re standing by the windows when you notice and quickly cross the short distance between the windows and the bed, standing by his side immediately. Miguel’s eyebrows furrow as he moves his head against the pillows gently. He hums softly as his eyes slowly flutter, and you’re unable to stop yourself from finding him endearing and tender in this moment.

His eyes open at last and he looks around the room slowly, trying to place his surroundings until his gaze lands on you. You offer him a small smile as he blinks a few times at you.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“Y/N…” he says trailing off, closing his eyes for a second before opening them again.

“How do you feel?” you ask, studying his face for any signs of trouble but Miguel looks in good condition.

“I feel a little dizzy,” he responds, blinking again a few times.

“It’s probably the meds. They’ll wear off soon – let me get the doctor, alright?”

Miguel nods before you use the call button. The doctor and a nurse shortly arrive, checking Miguel’s vitals. Everything looks well and as the minutes roll by, Miguel seems more and more awake. The professionals head out after explaining to Miguel what happened, including his heart stopping, and the extent of his injuries.

Miguel lays on the bed silently, staring down at his lap as he thinks about what the doctor told him. You stand a few feet away from the bed, giving him some time to process what they said. You can’t tell what he’s thinking or how he feels as his face is neutral but, on the inside, Miguel feels a little overwhelmed at the news that he was dead for several minutes. The dream he had, which now makes him wonder if it really was a dream after all, is also on his mind. He looks down at his hands, remembering how it felt to hold Gabi. How she forgave him and told him she would always view him as her dad.

Miguel sighs softly, closing his eyes. He can feel what it felt like to hold them again. He can see all their faces and remember their words about moving forward and having a second chance. And as he recalls their words, he also remembers how they kept telling him someone was calling him. He opens his eyes slowly and looks up at you, finding you in the same spot. Ever since the doctor arrived, you’ve been keeping your distance from the bed, as if you’re afraid that you’ll hurt him by being so close. He swallows softly.

“She’s calling you,” Gabi said.

“You know who,” Gabriel said with a small smile. “You know exactly who.”

You.

It’s you.

Miguel clears his throat softly, finding even that action slightly uncomfortable to do right now. He turns his gaze away from you, feeling heat on his face at the realization. Were you really calling him when he was dying – or rather when he died? Was his dream not a dream but – Miguel can’t even think about it now. He can’t wrap his head around it. Is it possible? Miguel has always been a man of science but as he thinks about it, he has no explanation for it.

You notice Miguel turn away, and for some reason it makes you wonder if he doesn’t want you around. You clear your own throat softly, ignoring the feeling of rejection growing in your chest, and put on a neutral face.

“Jess and Peter are taking care of things, which reminds me… They asked me to let them know as soon as you woke up. Do you feel well enough to see them?” you ask softly, fingers on your gizmo ready to send the message.

Miguel’s gaze turns back to you. He hasn’t even thought about the Spider Society until now that you’ve mentioned Jess and Peter. He thinks about it for a few seconds. He’s still thinking about his dream – he’s just going to call it that from now on – and he doesn’t feel ready to be asked questions or get lectured by Jess after her countless warnings about going solo on missions at night. He shakes his head at last.

“In an hour, please,” he says, and you nod, dropping your arms at your sides.

“Of course.” You feel a breeze from the AC turning on again. You nod at him, noticing the blanket on his lap. “Are you cold?”

Miguel continues to hold your gaze, realizing that yes, his arms are cold. He starts to move but you quickly walk to him.

“Remember what the doctor said,” you remind him as you now stand next to him. “She said to avoid too much movement for now until tomorrow, or even Monday. I’ll help you. Do you want me to cover you to your chest?” you ask, picking up the blanket gently.

“Right,” Miguel replies remembering the doctor’s instructions. “Yes, please.”

You nod and take a hold of the blanket, lifting it.

Miguel feels your warmth as you stand near him. It seeps into the side of his body, spreading a pleasant sensation that leaves the rest of his body yearning for it. On top of that, he’s unable to stop himself from inhaling your scent as you lean closer to lift the blanket further up. The moment is brief. You’re there at his side one second and gone the next, suddenly standing three feet away from the bed but your scent lingers, filling his nostrils. He feels the loss of your warmth almost immediately. The remaining warmness fades away and it makes Miguel wish there was another excuse to bring you closer, which fills him with great shame even if it's only human nature to seek such a comfort, especially in his vulnerable state.

Not to mention that everything about you is comforting. It always is. Your voice. Your warmth. Your scent. Your laugh. Your movements. Your mere presence and existence.

“Is that good?” you ask, ready to adjust it to his liking, oblivious to Miguel’s thoughts.

Miguel nods. “Yes, thank you.”

Mierda, he thinks as he shifts his head slightly. A few months ago, on Dia de los Muertos, he wanted you to push his boundaries. He hoped you’d ask him questions about his life, about Gabriella and the rest of his family and now he’s wishing you push his boundaries regarding physical touch. Miguel dismisses it as part of the medications’ aftereffects. It has messed up with his thought process enough that he’s wanting physical touch, surely.

He tries to distract himself by looking out the windows. It’s still raining.

“Has it stopped raining at all?”

You shake your head. “No. It hasn’t stopped at all.”

Miguel nods, still staring and listening to it, trying to get himself distracted until whatever it is he’s on fades and he can be back to his normal senses. It takes him a few seconds to remember you’re still standing nearby, while he’s there, lying in bed. He turns his head, wondering if you’ll be leaving now that he’s awake. He silently hopes you don’t.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” he asks gently, his red eyes meeting yours.

And the way it sounds, well, it tugs at your heartstrings. There’s a softness to his tone that makes you realize your impression from earlier was wrong, and that you jumped to conclusions. Miguel doesn’t want you to leave but there’s also a part of him that isn’t used to this level of vulnerability.

For all the moments and time you’ve spent together over the last year, neither of you’ve been in such a vulnerable state regarding health. Sure, there was that day you were unwell due to your period, but it wasn’t to this level, and it wasn’t him. Additionally, Miguel is already apprehensive about being vulnerable with emotional wounds, so you can only imagine how hard it must be for him to be seen with physical ones. And yet, the way he asks if you have somewhere to be makes it sound like he hopes you’ll stay. You remember how he asked you earlier to do so, while the medications were probably at their peak before he fell asleep. He may not even remember it now, or ever, but you won’t forget it, much like every moment you’ve shared with him. You smile softly.

“I’m where I’m supposed to be,” you answer and then realize how it may sound. You clear your throat, thinking you really should take a nap at some point today. You tell yourself to be more careful with your words right now. You don’t want to upset Miguel or make him uncomfortable when this situation is probably already too much for him. “Jess assigned me to be here. I’m to be – kind of like your bodyguard – until you fully recover,” you tell him, and the bodyguard part makes him smile a little.

“My own bodyguard, eh?” he says, still smiling faintly, feeling relieved that you’ll be around even if he doesn’t voice it. And though he showed no reaction to your comment about being where you’re supposed to be, a warmness spreads in his chest.  

You smile when you notice his small smile, delighted to see it as always, no matter how faint it is. You nod to the family area of the room.

“You have a lot of gifts from members wishing you a speedy recovery. Would you like to see it?”

Miguel turns slightly. He noticed the balloons earlier, but he was feeling too overwhelmed to even wonder about them. Feeling much calmer now, he nods with that faint smile still on his face. You feel happiness rush through you at his response and nod before you walk over to the items. There are about fifteen balloons and even more flowers and cards along with baskets full of snacks. You collect some of the flowers and cards in them before you take them to him.

Miguel can’t help but feel surprised at the number of items left. If he’s being honest, he didn’t expect to receive so much due to his attitude and behavior in the past, especially the events related to Miles.

“I’ll hold the flowers and cards for you to read, that way you don’t move too much, and you can keep your arms under the blanket,” you say now standing next to him.

You place some of the individual cards next to him on the bed before you show him some of the flowers, gently pulling out a card and holding it for him to read. You do this multiple times with the cards from the flowers. Miguel reads them silently, nodding once he’s done. You go through all the flowers and finally start on the individual cards. You notice there are a few handmade ones from members who opted to apply their artistic skills, like Miles, whose card you show Miguel next.

The only thing you see is the front in which Miles took the liberty of drawing Miguel in his suit. You smile fondly at it, admiring Miles’s art as always. You’ve always loved the pieces Miles has shown you and you’re also very happy that he’s decided to pursue art school again. You watch as Miguel reads the card’s message, his eyebrows furrow softly as his eyes move across the card. Up to this point Miguel has nodded and smiled faintly with each card but you notice Miles’s incites this different reaction. He swallows softly and finally nods, turning away to look out the windows in thought.

You can’t help and wonder what Miles wrote, for whatever the message is seems to have struck something in Miguel as he continues to look out the windows. You close it carefully and put it in the stack of read cards, still thinking as you grab another one to show him but he’s still staring out the windows.

“Do you want to take a break? I can show you the rest later.”

Miguel blinks and turns around to face you. He shakes his head gently.

“No, it’s okay. I’d like to see the rest.”

You nod and show him the next one. Miguel’s mood is slightly different now. He smiles faintly here and there, and there’s no doubt in your mind that Miles’s card is still in his mind. You finally reach the last one and you know immediately who it belongs to. You smile as you show it to him. It has Peter and Mary Jane’s handwriting but Mayday’s artistic skills all over the cover. Miguel stares at it and smiles again.

“Mayday,” he says softly before you open it and let him read the message.

He nods once he’s done, that faint smile still on his face as you put it away with the rest. You carefully pick them up to avoid any damage, fixing them into a neat stack again.

“You also have some baskets with snacks,” you say as you now collect the smaller cards from the flowers. “Would you like me to show them to you?”

Miguel shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. There’s no need for you to carry them here. Thank you though – and thank you for showing me the cards and flowers.”

You nod. “Of course, no problem,” you say as you look him over. “Are you warmer now? I have this blanket as well, if you’re still cold,” you say remembering the blanket the nurses gave you earlier.

“I’m much warmer now, thank you. No need for the other blanket.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“If you need something, please tell me, okay? I’m here to help you,” you say after a few seconds.

Miguel takes a few seconds to nod, feeling a mix of emotions. He feels guilty that you’re stuck here having to look after him because Jess asked you but he also feels relieved that you’re here. Still holding the cards in your hand, you decide to move them to the table in the family area.

“You must be tired,” he comments, wondering if you’ve even slept as his eyes follow you.

“I’m not,” you respond gently as you place the cards down on the table.

“If you want to go home and rest, you should,” he says as he looks down.

You sigh softly, knowing where this is going. You turn around to face him, finding him looking down at his body, covered in the blanket you placed over him. He looks up, as if sensing your gaze on him.

“I’m not only here because Jess asked me to,” you start, standing still. You briefly think about how only a few hours ago you were just thinking about how neither of you’ve said what you’re about to admit to him. You didn’t realize you’d be saying it today. “I’m here because I want to – because you’re my friend and this is what friends do,” you continue, keeping your tone as casual as possible as you hold each other’s gazes, though your tone is full of sincerity. “And you don’t have to feel the same way or say anything right now. Just – just know I’m here for you,” you continue softly, repeating the same words you told him for the first time on Dia de los Muertos night, when he apologized for keeping you up and taking you away from chores. You wanted to say more that night, like how you didn’t mind stopping what you were doing to join him because you wanted to spend more time with him. Except you couldn’t say more that night. It was still too soon, and maybe it still is for Miguel but a part of you wants him to know. That you’d be here regardless of Jess asking you because you wish to be here if he allows it. “It’s not an inconvenience to me, if that’s what you’re thinking. So, please – please let me stick around,” you add much quietly as you hold his gaze. Heat rises to your face, and you feel like wincing at your own words because you understand the gravity of them. You’ve never asked anything of him but here you are now, asking him to let you stay with him. To let you look over him, cover his cold body, keep him company as he recovers, and do much more if he lets you help him because all you want is for Miguel to be well again but you also know that this isn’t easy for him and that you’re asking for something that he might not be comfortable with. Your heart races as you wait for his response.

Miguel holds your gaze, noticing the wincing at your own words but he knows you well enough to know it’s not from regret. No, Miguel knows that you’re always so understanding, so respectful of his boundaries, never pushing or asking and that’s what made you wince; that you’re asking for something from him. Your words and reaction sink in. And Miguel wishes he could reciprocate your words about considering him a friend out loud, but he cannot, not yet even though you are his friend. He can’t risk it, so he nods softly.

“I’d appreciate it – if you did. Thank you,” he replies with sincerity at last, with a small smile.

You smile back, once again happy to see him smile. You don’t mind that he doesn’t say more because with the smile and tone he used, you feel certain he feels the same way even if he can’t voice it right now. You know Miguel has a long way to go in fully letting go. Maybe one day in the future, you think, but for now, him letting you stay while he recovers, is more than enough.

“After you meet with Jess and Peter, would you like to eat?” you ask as you walk to the chair. “You must be hungry. I believe you’re clear to eat now.”

As if on cue, Miguel’s stomach growls and he looks at you with an embarrassed look. For once, it’s his stomach and not yours. You try not to smile and clear your throat quietly.

“I’ll ask the nurse if you can eat while you talk with Jess and Peter, alright?”

He nods, meeting your eyes. “That sounds good, thank you.”

You reach out to Jess and Peter once Miguel tells you he’s ready. You wait for them to arrive before you head out quickly to confirm with the nurse that he can eat now and thankfully he’s cleared. You head back to the room once they tell you they’ll take him food, walking in just as you hear Peter ask how everything happened and so, the three of you listen intently to Miguel as he explains. You can’t help but feel fury as he mentions the Green Goblin twisting his trident into Miguel just before the explosion went off, on top of the fact that he targeted the gizmo once he figured out it was important. You sigh quietly, wishing he hadn’t gone on his own. The conversation shifts to Jess, who briefs Miguel about several things like the system failure and how it’s working again thanks to the work of Margo and other members. He sits on the bed and nods.

“I’ll be thanking them personally but for now – please give them my gratitude,” he says softly. “Everyone – has really stepped up, including the three of you. Thank you,” Miguel adds looking at all of you. “I appreciate it.”

Jess nods and offers Miguel a smile. Peter grins at him.

“Any time, pal. That’s what we’re here for, right? We stick up for each other,” Peter says and Jess nods.

“Peter’s right. We stick up for each other and we’ll make sure everything runs smoothly until you’re fully recovered,” Jess says. “All you need to worry about right now is recovering.”

Peter steps closer to you and quietly mutters, “You heard that, right? Jess agreed with me for once.”

You stifle a chuckle and gently elbow him to be quiet.

“What are you going on about, Peter?” Jess asks with a frown.

“Nothing at all. Just telling my friend that the rest of our friend group has been wondering about her, that’s all,” Peter replies raising his hands in defense and discreetly elbowing you to back him up now.

You nod but say nothing, making Jess shake her head. “Alright you two, if you say so. Well – there’s much we need to do. The system failure messed up some files. Lyla and I are organizing it, so I’ll return to that now. Please listen to the doctor’s instructions, Miguel,” Jess says sternly, and Miguel raises an eyebrow briefly but nods.

“And Y/N’s instructions, too,” Peter adds with a grin. “She’s like your – personal bodyguard.”

You subtly elbow Peter again and he gives you a puzzled look.

“Anyway, we’ll keep you updated. Rest and take the time to recover properly. If you need anything let Y/N know. We all want you to recover and be back on your feet,” Jess says.

Peter and you nod at that, thinking about what you would give to avoid this situation completely.

“Thank you. I’ll do that… Do keep me updated on what’s going on. There are meetings scheduled for this week and the weekly reports are not done yet - ” Miguel starts but Jess stops him, raising a hand.

“We’re taking care of everything. You worry about recovering.”

Miguel frowns but Jess doesn’t back down. “Fine but I want to be updated on what’s happening though.”

Jess nods, satisfied with his answer. “Will do, boss.”

With that Jess and Peter say their goodbyes, promising to return at some point again today to check in. Miguel and you watch them leave even though you want to ask Jess something, but you decide to send her a message later instead. You want to ask her if you can help with the reports as it’s something you can probably work on while Miguel rests, but you figure you should keep quiet about it, or Miguel might try and help you and the last thing any of you want is for him to work while he’s recovering. The two of you say goodbye to them before you turn around to face him.

Miguel still has a slight frown on his face. The commander of the Spider Society is not used to being told what to do. You try not to smile at this.

“One of the nurses said you’re clear to eat. They’ll be bringing in food any time now,” you inform him as you step closer to your chair, picking up your blanket to fold it just as

Miguel groans softly. “What’s wrong?” you ask, putting the blanket down immediately.

“Hospital food.”

You chuckle. “I bet it’s not bad like the typical hospital food.”

“Hospital food is still hospital food.”

“I bet it’s better than my universe’s hospital food.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow at this, looking amused. “Perhaps but it’s still hospital food.”

You grin just as there’s a knock. A nurse comes in with a tray of food, immediately setting it up for him. The nurse asks Miguel if he needs assistance with eating and surprisingly, or perhaps not too surprisingly, he looks at you, not wanting to be fed by a stranger.

“Thank you but I’ll be helping him,” you inform them, and they nod.

Miguel thanks them before they leave the room, leaving the two of you alone again. He frowns as he looks down at the closed containers and you can’t help but find this amusing. You head to the bathroom to wash your hands before you return to his side. You grab a napkin and open it.

“I’m going to put this on your chest just in case something falls,” you tell him, and he nods but he doesn’t look enthusiastic about eating as you place the napkin on him. “Come on, you don’t even know what they brought yet.”

“I can smell it, and it doesn’t smell too good.”

You shake your head softly as you open the containers, putting the lids to the side as you reveal each food item. You stare at the main food. There’s steamed vegetables, chicken, and rice but it all looks a little… bland.

“Hmm.”

“I told you,” Miguel says grumpily.

You don’t say anything and instead pick up a small tub of gelatin that appears to be strawberry flavored. It looks like the most appetizing thing in the whole tray along with the two drinks they provided, apple juice and water.

“You don’t want to give this a try at all?” you ask softly, motioning to the food.

Miguel sighs, frowning. “I guess I have to.”

You grab the cutlery and offer him a steamed carrot slice. Miguel hesitantly opens his mouth, keeping his gaze on the tray, embarrassed. He can’t believe he’s being fed like a child as he softly bites down on the carrot. He chews, trying not to make a face.

“Not that bad, right?” you ask, and he looks up at you.

“Why don’t you try it, and you tell me?” he says grumpily, almost pouting.

You meet his eyes and hold back from laughing. You clear your throat, ready to ask him if he wants to try the rice or chicken now.

“No, I’m being serious. Try it.”

You sigh. “Why don’t you try the rice or the chicken now? We can drop the veggies then.”

Miguel sighs now. “If even the vegetables aren’t good, I have little hope for the rice and chicken… I’m not joking. That carrot wasn’t good.”

“It can’t be that bad. It’s just a steamed carrot.”

“Try it then.”

You continue to meet his gaze and he motions with his head for you to go on. You scoff softly and pick up a carrot with the fork before you slide it off to avoid eating from the same fork. You bring it to your mouth and frown as the scent hits your nose.

“Even the scent is off putting, right?” Miguel asks.

You nod before you chew and wow, Miguel is right. You grab a napkin and spit it out quietly.

“I don’t know how you ate that,” you say quietly. “You want some water to wash down the taste?” you offer, and Miguel nods trying not to chuckle at your response.

You grab the water bottle and notice straws were provided so you open one and slide it into the water bottle once you open it, too. You bring it to Miguel’s mouth, lining up the straw to his mouth so he can easily access it. He drinks for a few seconds before he releases the straw.

“I didn’t realize I was so thirsty” he says before he drinks more. You hold the bottle steady and watch as he nearly finishes it.

“I can get you another one. It’s been many hours since you drank something,” you mutter quietly. You look at the food. He hasn’t eaten anything in hours either and this food is unappetizing. You look at the gelatin. That’s the only appealing food item on the tray but his appetite won’t be satisfied with that alone.

Miguel leans back, releasing the straw again. The water bottle is empty now and he sighs in relief.

“Thank you.”

You nod and put the bottle away, thinking. “Would you be okay if I step out for – five or ten minutes?” you ask.

Miguel raises his eyebrow softly. “Is something wrong?” he asks just as his eyes flicker to your gizmo.

“Nothing wrong, don’t worry. I was just thinking – I can go to the cafeteria and grab you something from there instead. I can bring you empanadas if I can find some?” you suggest and you’re immediately happy you suggested this.

Miguel’s face changes. His eyes lit up and he nods immediately but then he frowns.

“The cafeteria staff showed up today? They have weekends off. They should’ve enjoyed their day off… And it’s not allowed to bring cafeteria food into the infirmary,” he says, and you scoff in amusement.

“They came in because a lot of members showed up to help. And I won’t get caught. Besides, what’s the worst thing the infirmary team can do? Tell the boss on me?” you ask as you start closing the containers.

Miguel watches you as you do this, with a small grin.

“If anything, I think he’d agree that this food is – a crime,” you say and Miguel chuckles before he groans.

“Mierda, that hurt,” he says closing his eyes in pain and you see his hands move under the blanket to his stomach.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you chuckle,” you say as you move the food tray away from him.

“It’s alright,” Miguel mutters with a sigh, opening his eyes again. “It’s fading away now. That son of a – he really got me with the trident.”

“I’m so sorry, is the pain subsiding now?” you ask worried, and he nods.

“It’s fading now, don’t worry,” he says softly, and you nod.

“I’ll go get you food once your pain subsides completely,” you reply, wanting to make sure you’re in the room until he’s completely okay.

After five minutes, Miguel nods. “I’m alright. The pain is gone,” he reassures you.

You sigh softly and nod. “Okay, I’ll be right back. I won’t take long, okay?”

Miguel nods and with one last look, you head out. You walk to the cafeteria quickly, noticing more gifts left for Miguel but you don’t pause to look. Once at the cafeteria, you put together some food boxes, making sure to secure Miguel’s empanadas first before anything else. You fix yourself a box so you can eat since you haven’t had anything after breakfast. Jess offered to take you something for lunch, but you weren’t hungry, so you declined but you realize you’re hungry now. You end up using your webs to secure the boxes together as you remember Miguel saying that it isn’t allowed to bring outside food into the infirmary. You also grab a few water bottles and cutlery, tying everything with more web and swinging the items over your shoulder. You’re about to head back, thinking how you’ll have to sneak into the infirmary sector with the food when you see the coffee station. You decide to grab some as well and when you reach the station you’re met with a lovely surprise.

There’s always only one coffee cup size but today there’s two. It’s double the size, or maybe even larger, than the regular cup. You can’t help yourself and end up ordering two of those. You haven’t slept in a while and you probably shouldn’t have this much caffeine, but you want to stay awake until nighttime as you suspect Miguel might not sleep until then. You pick up the cups and head back, having to sneak past the nurses’ office by sticking to the walls. Thankfully the coffee cups weren’t a problem.

You enter the room at last and find Miguel, still in bed of course, but the TV is now on. As you walk closer, you notice the containers are gone. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion just as Miguel turns around. 

“Peter and Jess came by. Peter took the food with him,” Miguel explains, noticing your confusion.

“I hope he hid them as he walked by,” you say as you set the boxes with food and coffee cups on the tray. “Anyway, I got you empanadas and some sides, along with fruit. I also got coffee. There are new cups,” you announce and motion to the cups, larger than the usual ones.

“You managed to get two?” Miguel asks, his tone full of surprise.

“Yes, why?”

Miguel scoffs softly. “I can never get my hands on these even though they’re meant for me.”

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen them.”

“Everyone opts to get these instead of the other ones. I have these bought because…” Miguel trails off, meeting your eyes. “Not only do I like coffee, but I also need more caffeine to actually feel the effect. The regular size cups aren’t enough sometimes, but I can never find these when I show up,” he says with a slight frown.

You frown. “Oh - I never realized you might need more caffeine, but it makes sense now that you say it,” you reply as you look at him, realizing that Miguel is a tall man and very built, so of course he’d need more than someone within the average height and weight.

 “All this time I should’ve been taking you two cups instead of one then,” you say, and Miguel shakes his head softly.

“Don’t worry about it. It does help me,” he reassures you.

“I’ll see if I can find these for you from now on,” you answer as you fix the napkin on his chest before you tell him you’re going to wash your hands again. When you return to his side, you open the boxes of food you brought specifically for him, showing him the empanadas and everything else before you get the cutlery ready. However, when you look at the empanadas, you realize this is a food that’s usually eaten by hand not with cutlery. You look up at Miguel, feeling silly to ask but you do regardless.

“Do you want me to cut these up for you or…?” you ask.

Miguel looks down at the empanadas.

“I can wrap the end in a napkin and hold it for you?” you offer and Miguel nods slowly. “Okay, I’ll do that then.”

You feel a little nervous. It’s not like you’ve never fed someone in the mouth before with your hand. It’s just that you’ve only ever done this with Peter… or used to. As you carefully pick up the empanada with a napkin and wrap it, you recall those days with Peter. He always liked to share his food with you, wanting you to try what he was having, and this always resulted in getting fed bits and pieces from him. You always reciprocated and found this to be an intimate act as you never did it with anyone else but here you are, lifting an empanada to Miguel’s mouth, who still looks embarrassed by this. You clear your throat softly, trying to dissipate the nervousness between the two of you over this simple and yet intimate act.

“They don’t feel burning hot so I think they should be at a good temperature to eat without burning your mouth,” you say, and he nods.

You watch as he reluctantly opens his mouth and takes a bite. His face quickly displays a pleased look and you’re unable to stop yourself from grinning at the different reaction from earlier.

“Not too hot?” you ask.

Miguel finishes eating, smiling faintly. “No, it’s perfect temperature. Thank you.”

You nod and bring the empanada closer to his mouth again. “If you want a drink, let me know. Or if you want to try the other food. It smells and looks good.”

As Miguel chews you notice a bit of a smirk on his face at your comment. You smile a bit before you look away and pick up one of the coffee cups, bringing it to your lips with your free hand. It seems that the nervousness between the two of you is subsiding now. You look up at the TV, an action movie is on. You turn back to Miguel and offer the empanada again. Each time, you’re careful no mess is left behind as you don’t want him to get food on himself but eventually you notice a bit of food in the corner of his mouth, so you put the second empanada down and pick a clean napkin. You motion to his mouth.

“You have a bit – in the corner of your mouth, here,” you say before you gently wipe his mouth.

Miguel’s eyes are on the food tray, and you don’t fail to notice a slight tint to his cheeks. You keep a neutral face as you clean him, despite wanting to smile as you find the action endearing but for his sake, you say nothing once you’re done.

“So, what exactly is this movie about?” you ask instead, deciding that maybe this’ll help calm him. You can only imagine how this is making Miguel feel, someone who isn’t used to such vulnerability even with you.

“To be honest, I don’t know. Peter turned the TV on, and it was already playing. I’ve never heard of it but then again… I haven’t kept up with movies in a long time,” Miguel admits before he takes another bite of the empanada as you offered it again.

You nod. “I understand, I haven’t either.”

Miguel nods as he eats, for some reason remembering that on Peter’s birthday you claimed you’d be going to the movies with friends from your universe. Except that was just a lie to hide your true plans and there weren’t friends involved either way. He remembers waking up the next day and thinking about how no one showed up. You planned to spend the evening alone and he couldn’t help but wonder. Sure, Jess briefed him on you before she brought you to HQ. She mentioned that you were completely on your own, with no family or friends but he thought there had to be someone, even if they weren’t too close to you but Jess had been right. No one called or arrived on Peter’s birthday. You were really alone in your universe, and he couldn’t understand why. He had wondered, did they abandon you when you needed someone the most or did you cut ties on your own? He just couldn’t and still can’t wrap his head around the fact that you spent three years completely on your own. He can’t help but feel that you deserved better. He can’t help but wish that he had found your universe sooner, so you could’ve had the Spider Society as a support system earlier.

And maybe, just maybe you could’ve been a part of his life sooner, too. Miguel clears his throat as this thought comes to his mind.

“May I please have some water?”

You nod and place the remainder of the second empanada down before you open the water bottle, slipping a straw into it before you bring it to his lips. You can’t help but notice the difference on his face as he drinks. His face is still missing its full natural color, but he has thankfully gained some of it.  

Miguel eats all the empanadas and sides, along with the fruit. He also drinks two water bottles and asks for some coffee. When you notice that he seems to be rushing so you can start eating soon, you tell him not to worry, and to take his time. He slightly frowns but nods after you talk to him, his mind still whirling with thoughts. When he’s done, you eat as the two of you continue to watch the movie, not really understanding what’s going on but it has caught both of your attention regardless. At some point you remember you have the tablet Ben Reilly brought you many hours ago, so you grab it and look up the movie.

“This is actually the third installment.”

Miguel turns to you. “That explains a lot.”

You chuckle after you take a sip of your coffee, done eating. “It does.”

You resume watching the movie. It’s about five o’clock in the afternoon. The slow and peaceful rain is still going. The room has a somewhat comforting energy about it with the few lights on as Miguel and you watch the movie. His eyes flicker to you though his glances go unnoticed by you, as your eyes are on the TV. He has an idea suddenly and when he’s about to speak, he remembers he doesn’t have a gizmo. That prompts him to remember that you gave him yours when you… found him. He clears his throat as the memories come to him quickly.

He was out of it, his body felt weak and cold when he heard your voice. It sounded so far away until it became clear. He felt your touch when you cupped his face in your small hand. He remembers saying that you were there, and you thought he referred to everyone. In reality, he referred to you alone, for you were the last person he thought about before he felt his consciousness slip for the first time. Even in his state, he felt like he had somehow called for you across the multiverse because you were there suddenly, kneeled by his side, telling him that he would go home. Then, you slipped your gizmo into his wrist, not caring if you glitched and he wanted to tell you so badly to take it back because he now knew what it was like, and he didn’t want you to experience it, too. He didn’t get the chance to warn you though and you didn’t care. You didn’t care that you would glitch just to protect him from glitching again.

And Miguel’s chest fills with a heavy feeling now. His eyes soften as he looks at you, still watching TV, engrossed in this movie that neither of you understand. He smiles softly at you, his friend, even if he can’t say it out loud. Yet.

“I think we should watch the other movies,” Miguel says breaking the silence, and making you turn to face him with a raised eyebrow.

“The other movies?”

“We have nothing else to do… Why not?” he asks quietly.

You nod, smiling. You haven’t messaged Jess about potentially helping with the reports but you decide to leave it like that for now. You decide to take the opportunity to distract Miguel with the movies, seeing as he’s showing interest in them instead of trying to jump right back into work. Your reaction makes Miguel nod and so he executes the idea he had a few minutes ago. He calls for Lyla.

“Miguel! It’s so good to see you – you look – better,” Lyla says enthusiastically.

“Thanks, Lyla. I need you to do something for me,” Miguel says.

“You’re not allowed to work right now. Y/N, tell him he’s not allowed to work right now. He’ll listen to you.”

Miguel frowns and you watch in amusement. “I know. It’s something else.”

“Oh, then what is it?” Lyla asks with a raised eyebrow, intrigued.

Miguel asks her to buy all the movies available before he asks her to stream the first one on the TV.

“Hmm, this was the last thing I thought you’d ask me to do,” Lyla says with her arms crossed over her chest as Miguel and you start watching the first movie, looking puzzled. “Alright, you two, enjoy the movies! And Miguel, don’t push yourself. Take proper time to heal. It’s the order – from everyone,” Lyla says softly, looking at him with worried eyes.

Miguel faces her, knowing that this is the first time something like this has happened to him and despite being an AI and her attitude, he can tell she was worried. He nods at her. “I’ll be back soon. Make sure you do your job without driving the members crazy.”

She gives Miguel a grin. “It’s part of my personality, can’t help it but I’ll do my job, boss. I might pop by later when the other members are gone. Enjoy the movies!”

She gives him a peace sign and says her goodbye to the two of you before she disappears. The two of you watch the movies for the rest of the afternoon, pausing when the medical team comes in to check on Miguel, and yes, you hid the food boxes amongst Miguel’s flowers and balloons, masking the scent by bringing some flowers to the nightstand next to the bed so they wouldn’t find out until you got rid of the evidence.

A little after ten o’clock, Miguel yawns softly just as the second movie ends. You stand up and stretch, before walking over to him.

“How are you doing? Do you want a drink or maybe use the restroom before bed?” you ask, wanting to make sure he’s comfortable.

Miguel sighs softly, moving a bit. “I really wish I could get up and stretch,” he says. “I’d also like to brush my teeth.”

You nod, thinking. “I can solve the teeth situation but – I’m not sure I can help you get up without hurting you. Let me call the nurses, okay?”

“Let’s try it. Just – you and me. Please,” he says gently, and you can’t refuse with that soft tone of his, so you nod.

“Alright… but slowly. I don’t want to hurt you. Let me get the toothbrush and toothpaste first though,” you say as you go to your small traveling bag. In your hurry to return fast, you opted to throw a new pack of toothbrushes you had and your toothpaste when you were packing. Now you’re glad because you can give one to Miguel. You quickly take both items to the bathroom before you return to him.

The two of you work together to get him to stand up, and you succeed after what feels like fifteen minutes because you wanted to avoid hurting him. At last, however, he holds on to you with his arm wrapped around your waist at your request when you noticed his balance is a little off. Your own arm is around his waist, careful to avoid touching any of his stomach area. You remain like that for a few minutes, letting Miguel get used to being on his feet again. You ask him if he’s okay or if he needs to sit down again but he declines, telling you to give him a few more seconds. Eventually he nods.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

You silently hope this all goes well as you help him take a few steps. Thankfully the action doesn’t hurt Miguel nearly as much as you thought it would since neither of you are rushing. The two of you walk a bit in the area between the bed and the family area, with Miguel taking short steps. You wish you thought of bringing him slippers as you look down at his feet, noticing that he’s wearing standard hospital socks, but you decide you’ll ask for another pair so you can change them out once he’s back in bed. You also decide tomorrow you or someone else will need to go to his apartment to collect some items as he’ll still be here tomorrow.

At last, Miguel stands in front of the sink. He sees himself in the mirror and his reflection makes him pause. He’s never looked this bad and then he remembers, once again, that he died. The possibility that he wouldn’t even be staring at himself right now hits Miguel suddenly. He clears his thoughts and turns his head to you.

“You ready?” you ask softly, looking up at him.

“Yes. I think I can do it on my own,” he replies, and you nod hesitantly before giving him the toothbrush with some toothpaste on it.

He starts lifting his arm, but the movement makes him wince.

“I can help you,” you say quietly and after a few seconds Miguel sighs.

“You already fed me and now you’re going to brush my teeth,” he says but he doesn’t sound angry, he’s just embarrassed.

“And I’ll do more than that if necessary. If you allow me. I just – don’t want you to get hurt,” you say softly. “I know… This can feel embarrassing,” you continue as you take the toothbrush from his hand, guiding his arm down gently to avoid any more discomfort.

At your height, you can’t reach his mouth, so you climb up the counter, resting on your heels, facing him. You grab a towel from a stack and put it over his chest, tucking it gently into the hospital gown’s neckline to avoid getting it dirty. You lean closer and motion for him to open his mouth. He sighs and then follows your order. You start brushing his teeth gently, focusing on the task as you continue to talk.

“I know it can feel embarrassing. I used to feel like that when I got hurt and went home to Peter,” you start. “He took care of my wounds. Helped me shower and dress. Got me in bed and still had the energy to hold me,” you say quietly, your tone full of fondness as you remember Peter once again. “I felt embarrassed even with my partner so I can imagine what this must feel like when I’m just, you know,” you say as you continue to brush his teeth, carefully. All the while, Miguel’s eyes take in the sight of you this close, listening to your quiet voice as you lean closer, even ducking your head to get a good view of his mouth. He blinks when he hears your last words, knowing what you’re saying. That it’s normal for him to feel embarrassed when it’s you, his friend, doing this for him. “But I hope – you allow me to continue to help you so you can recover faster. I don’t like seeing you like this,” you say with a frown, which he notices, as you finish brushing one side of his mouth. You wipe the corner of his mouth softly with the towel. “So, please… if you need help with something, don’t hesitate to ask because of embarrassment. I’m here to help you,” you say as you start brushing the other side of his mouth.

He nods softly after a few seconds while you finish brushing his teeth. At last, you’re done, and you smile at him, drying his mouth from the water.

“Done,” you say as you rinse the toothbrush before you place it on a toothbrush holder for tomorrow. “Anything else you’d like to do before you get back in bed?”

Miguel meets your eyes, thinking about what he’s about to ask.

“Do you mind – passing a towel over my face?” Miguel asks. “My face feels weird.”

You nod, remembering. “I have these reusable cotton face pads. They’re much softer on the skin than a towel. Let me get them real quick,” you say and with that you slide off the counter and exit the bathroom. Miguel stands there, surprised at your offer but he doesn’t have much time to think anything else because you enter the bathroom again holding some round cotton pads. He watches as you climb up the counter again before you open the hot water and pass the pads under it. You squeeze the excess and turn to him at last. “Alright, you ready?”

Miguel nods again. “Yes, thank you.”

You nod, realizing some of his hair is over his forehead. You feel a bit nervous as you think about what you’re about to ask him. “Do you mind if I hold your hair up?”

“Go ahead,” Miguel answers softly, answering almost immediately, which surprises you a bit.

He doesn’t seem to mind, so you nod and carefully reach for his hair. You lift it lightly before you glide the lukewarm cotton pad over his forehead with a tenderness that makes Miguel hold his breath for a few seconds. You wipe his forehead, then his eyebrows. Your movements remain tender, making Miguel feel like he’s some delicate glass object that’s worthy of your gentleness as you glide the pad down the bridge to the tip and sides of his nose. You change pads and ask him to close his eyes before you glide it over his eyelids, moving to the rest of the eye area.

Your face remains neutral as you clean his face though your eyes take in every detail. From the flecks in his red eyes to his eyebrows to the lines on his forehead and under eyes. And when you reach the bottom half of his face your eyes trace his cheeks, jawline, chin, and finally his lips, wiping them softly to make sure you remove any toothpaste excess.

The entire process makes Miguel’s face feel warm, not because of the warmness of the pads but because of the closeness of this moment. No one has ever done this to him. And yet, you seem so unbothered by it. Like this is normal. You grab another pad, damping it with warm water again and repeating the process much faster this time. You let go of his hair and move back.

“Done,” you say softly as you put down the pads on the counter, telling yourself you’ll pick them up later to take home and wash. Miguel watches your movement and for the first time, he notices it. There are light scratches on your hand, and he instantly knows they came from his talons. “Are you ready to head back? Or do you need to use the bathroom?” you ask Miguel, not noticing.

“Your hand,” Miguel says still looking at it. “I scratched you?” he asks, meeting your eyes, sounding extremely bothered by this.

You look down in surprise, remembering that he scratched you a bit when you were trying to calm him down as he grew restless. It was hard not to forget about them, as shortly after that his heart gave out.

“Oh, yes but don’t worry about it. It didn’t hurt that much. I honestly forgot about them,” you admit, making Miguel frown.

“I’m really sorry. I don’t remember – when I did that. Not only must I’ve hurt you but probably ripped your suit in the process as well,” Miguel says, sounding regretful.

You shake your head. “It hardly hurt, really. I even forgot I had these,” you say nodding to the scratches. “And about the suit, I didn’t notice any rips on it this morning and even if there are, I’m sure I can fix it. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“I can have it fixed for you here. Or you can have a new one,” Miguel offers. “Same design, maybe with some updates if you’d like… But you should get the scratches checked just in case. I’m really sorry that I did this to you,” Miguel says quietly, and he truly does feel bad. He doesn’t even remember doing it.

You smile gently at him and nod. “If it comes to that, sure but we can worry about that later. And don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt. They were very light scratches, nothing to worry about. I promise,” you reassure him. “So, ready to head back?”

Miguel is upset with himself over scratching you, but he sees that you want to drop it, so he lets it go, too. For now. He’ll make sure you have a new suit because he’s certain he ripped yours. There’s no way he didn’t and even though he doesn’t know the exact reason, he knows you’re very attached to your suit. He sighs silently and answers your question at last.

“I need to use the bathroom, but I got it, thank you,” he says gently, thinking the last thing either of you need is for you to help him use the bathroom, too.

“Of course, I’ll be outside if you need me. Please take your time so you don’t hurt yourself, okay?”

He nods, grateful to you for everything but still feeling bad about scratching you, before you head out of the bathroom, closing the door after you.

You check your gizmo to distract yourself, noticing several messages from your friends asking about Miguel and his status, and if either of you need anything so they can drop it off. You smile fondly as you read the thread of messages before responding quickly to them, letting them know that Miguel has been doing well and that you’ll let them know if either of you need anything. You finish sending the last message just as you hear the toilet flush and then the water running. Miguel comes out about a minute later. He seems to be able to walk a lot better on his own now but he’s still moving slow to prevent any pain.

You offer to help him and this time he puts his arm around your shoulders, leaning just a bit on you. You successfully get him back in bed, finding the process much easier than getting him out of it. You tell him about changing his socks since he walked on the infirmary floor, but he says he’s fine without them, so you just remove them for him before you cover him again for the night. You bring the blanket close to his chest and fix his pillow to his preference. At last, he lays on the bed feeling much better.

“Thank you for everything,” Miguel says as he watches you fix your chair to sleep, wishing you’d go home so you can properly rest or for there to be something far more comfortable than the fold out chair, but he can already hear you turning down his suggestions.

You fix your pillow before you turn around to face him, giving him a small smile. “Always,” you say softly. “I’m going to use the bathroom. Just call me if you need anything, okay?”

He nods and watches as you pick up your travel bag before you head into the bathroom, closing the door quietly after yourself. Miguel turns away and looks up at the ceiling, remembering. Last night around this time he was in the lab, feeling restless but still working, not even imagining what was going to happen in a matter of hours. He sighs softly now, repositioning his head to get comfortable. He feels tired and he knows he'll fall asleep soon, but he wants to make sure you’re comfortable, too, or at least as much as possible.

You come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, wearing different clothes but not pajamas, though they look far more comfortable than what you were wearing earlier.

“The AC turns on a lot during the night. Do you want me to lift the blanket higher up, so you don’t get cold?”

Miguel meets your eyes and answers yes, his mind now shifting to how caring you’ve been all day, even sneaking food for him. He has a lot to thank you for, and he feels as though nothing he says or offers to you will ever be able to fully express his gratitude. You fix the blanket and even tuck it in a bit for him before you step back, giving him space.

“Is that comfortable?” you ask, and Miguel nods.

“It is. Thank you.”

You nod, smiling at him softly before you turn around and take a seat on the chair, covering your lower body with a blanket.

“You’re not sleeping yet?” he asks, noticing that you haven’t folded out the chair.

“I’m not sleepy yet.”

And you really don’t, probably due to the large cup of coffee you drank but you know at some point during the night you will as it’s close to twenty-four hours since you slept. Miguel nods though he frowns.

“Try to rest,” he says quietly.

“I will. Don’t worry about me. Rest,” you answer as you pull the blanket higher up your body, thinking.

Miguel nods again, closing his eyes, unable to fight sleep anymore. He ends up falling asleep about fifteen minutes later, his soft and even breathing filling your ears as you sit on the fold out chair. You watch his sleeping figure, the sight providing you calmness as you think about the day. Miguel woke up, talked, ate, and even chuckled at your comment about the infirmary food being a crime. You smile softly, staring at him. He’s okay. He just has to recover and soon he’ll be back in his lab, working like normal, a sight you never thought you’d wish for until now.

You stay awake for an hour more, watching over Miguel, before sleep consumes you.

Miguel wakes up about two hours later. He opens his eyes and looks around, his gaze stopping on you as he takes your sleeping figure. He blinks a few times, still staring at you. Somehow you manage to make sleeping on the fold out chair look comfortable. The blanket is up to your chest, and you hold the pillow vertically to your body, with your head resting on it and your arms wrapped around it. It looks as if you were laying on someone’s chest while hugging them. And Miguel can’t keep his eyes off you as your soft breathing fills his ears, feeling glad that you’re sleeping at last because he doesn’t know how long you’ve been awake for.

He tries to sleep again but it seems that sleep has deserted him and instead he finds himself thinking about everything as he watches over you now. He was able to avoid thinking about a lot of things throughout the day but now, there’s no escape from his thoughts. You’re not awake, there’s no Jess or Peter, or TV to provide relief from the thoughts that have been on his mind since he woke up. And there are so, so many.

First, there’s the fact that Miguel briefly passed away. It isn’t that he thinks he’s invisible. He has experienced too many losses in his life to know that no one is invisible, no matter how strong, how kind, or how innocent someone may be. Death doesn’t care about those things. He’s also not fearful of dying. It’s never been about the actual act itself. It’s always been other factors. Like how a few months ago he was afraid of the aftermath. About whether anyone would care or even show up to his funeral because of the way he carried himself; distant and detached.

Then, on Peter’s birthday, you led him to lose that fear. Now he feels overwhelmed for another reason. It’s the realization that he feels regret. If he was to look back at his life up until the moment his heart stopped, Miguel realizes he wouldn’t look back with satisfaction when it came to his decisions and way of living. No, he would’ve looked back and seen himself experience loss after loss, heartache after heartache. He’d see himself giving up and turning away anyone who tried to get close, leading to his lonely life with a few lapses of time in which he was happy before he’d lose everything again. His short death has made him realize that he doesn’t want to look back at his life, when he’s older or when he’s gone for good, with disappointment and regret.

There’s also the thoughts about his dream or vision, or whatever the hell that was. Miguel moves his fingers under the blanket, extending his arms out the sides of the blanket so he can look at them. He successfully does this without hurting himself and when he finally sees his fingers, he closes his hands, remembering how it felt to hold Gabriella again. How it felt to hug his brother and wife. The dream comes to him quickly, playing through his mind. A part of him wants it to be real, while another part of him feels that it was real. How could it be otherwise when it felt so real? When it made sense? His family’s words echo through his mind again. Everything they said. They want him to move forward. To take this second chance. To stop his current way of living. Miguel also thinks of the guilt he has carried for so long and because a part of him believes his dream was a real but short reunion with them, he feels relieved. Like a weight has been taken off his shoulders, especially after his variant, his wife, and Gabriella forgave him for his actions.

Another thought plaguing Miguel’s mind is Miles’s card. He tried to act normal afterward but he’s sure you noticed the change of mood in him. He began to read it, expecting well wishes for a speedy recovery or something of the sort, and yes, that was part of it but not all of it. For some reason, Miles felt that it was necessary to talk about Miguel’s actions when it came to their “disagreement,” as Miles lightly put it, even though Miguel wouldn’t dare dream of wording it like that after how he behaved. No, Miguel accepts that his actions and words were disgusting and even though everyone has moved on, he continues to feel shame and regret for everything.

For hunting down Miles across the multiverse, for trying to stop him from saving Mr. Morales, the same man who sent him food for the holidays because for some reason he and Mrs. Morales still have it in their hearts to be forgiving and feel concerned for him, despite knowing that Miguel literally asked their son to accept Mr. Morales’s death as a canon event, not to mention the way he treated Miles. Yet, Miles and his family, and everyone else it seems, have moved on – something Miles made clear in his card. With the way Miles acts around him these days, Miguel kind of knew this already though, for Miles continues to call him “tío” sometimes, a title Miguel hasn’t felt worthy of. On top of that, Miles went on and apologized to him, something else Miguel doesn’t feel worthy of and yet, the young superhero apologized, claiming that he had disregarded Miguel’s fear back then, and that even though his theory wasn’t perfect, Miguel was basing it from what he knew back then, from his own experience. All in all, Miguel hadn’t expected such contents in the card but then again, what could he expect from someone who continuously surprised him. So, there’s Miles’s words, lingering in Miguel’s mind.

Then there’s you. You were the one to say it first, to claim him as your friend. And hell, Miguel wishes he could’ve said it back; that you’re his friend. The one that never asks for anything and has remained the same throughout all these months. Always kind, caring, and understanding. Miguel sighs, wishing. Wishing he could say it, and yet he can’t because he’s afraid. Everyone Miguel has ever cared about is gone, and the losses in his life have led to a fear. A fear that the moment he admits out loud that you’re his friend, too, that you’ll disappear; that something will happen to you and Miguel cannot take another loss. He cannot risk it even when a part of his brain tells him he's being irrational.

Miguel’s thoughts are starting to feel more like reasons. Like excuses. Like signs.

Miguel feels like he’s going backwards. For the longest time, Miguel has believed that the best way to “move forward” was accepting loneliness, the lack of friends and family, and that his life’s purpose is his job – his duty. He also believed he put behind certain hardships in his life like his childhood and how his stepfather treated him, not realizing the truth behind it until he discovered that the man he grew up fearful of, was never his father to begin with but rather the man he worked for as an adult. Or how his mother always placed Gabriel on a pedestal, her words cutting through him each time she told Miguel he would never be anything like him. He never resented Gabriel, but he couldn’t say the same for his mother even after they resolved their issues years later. There are so many wounds in Miguel’s heart and while he believes that he has moved on, or put them behind him, the reality is that all his wounds are still there; open and raw.

But Miguel kept going, thinking the next loss or heartache couldn’t possibly be worse than the last one. It was. Each time. It just reinforced his belief that he was meant for this lonely life.

Now, there’s so many signs, so many reasons… Everything around him, all his thoughts, every part of him telling him to go ahead and get his hopes up again. To let himself go back to a younger version of himself that longed for so much.

For a family. For friendships.

His family told him to try and move forward. His variant told him to seize the opportunity, to find another purpose other than work. Basically, to not let the hardships of his life dictate the rest of it. Then there’s Miles’s card, forgiving him for the way he acted towards him. And finally, you’re here. Sleeping on a fold out chair that he can never imagine sleeping comfortably on, hours later after telling him that he’s your friend. Looking after him in ways he’s never been looked after, treating him like he’s worthy of your friendship. Like he’s deserving of this second chance and being able to call you his friend. So many signs.

Miguel sighs quietly. It feels like he’s going backwards, and there’s nothing he can do about it. And maybe, he doesn’t want to do anything about it, Miguel realizes as he continues to watch you sleep.

He lays in bed, watching you and thinking when his thoughts are interrupted.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Miguel turns to Lyla. “Can’t sleep.”

“So, you’re just watching Y/N instead…?”

“I’m not – what are you doing here?” Miguel asks frowning, talking quietly to avoid disturbing your sleep.

“Oh, don’t even try to deny it. You’ve been watching her for like – the last half hour. It’s weird, please stop,” Lyla says crossing her arms over her chest, frowning back at Miguel.

“I wasn’t… I was thinking.”

“Sureee, if that’s going to help you sleep, then go ahead.”

Miguel’s frown deepens but he says nothing else, his eyes returning to you, and once again, he wonders how you look so comfortable in that damn chair. Lyla joins him in staring at you and Miguel notices.

“Now who’s staring?” he asks.

“Oh, I’m just ‘thinking,’ boss,” Lyla says with a smirk, causing Miguel to roll his eyes. “But in all seriousness, I’m glad she’s finally sleeping. She’s been awake since three in the morning when she realized something was wrong.”

That peels Miguel’s attention from you to Lyla.

“What?”

Lyla shrugs, arms still crossed over her chest. “Yeah, she was awake since three in the morning and hasn’t slept until now.”

“No, the other thing. The thing about her figuring out something was wrong.”

Lyla’s eyes widen and she uncrosses her arms quickly. “Oh, you know, I just remembered that I need to do something for Jess. She wants it done by the time she arrives, so I ought to go because I don’t need a lecture from Jess.”

“Lyla,” Miguel whispers in a warning tone.

“Rest well and don’t be a creep, goodnight!” Lyla says before she disappears, leaving him with questions.

Miguel sighs, feeling annoyed that she avoided the question but now he knows. You were the one that figured it out but how? What were you doing at HQ so late? Miguel decides that he’ll ask you tomorrow, or rather later, as it’s already early Sunday. Miguel continues to watch you sleep until your soft and even breathing lure him back to sleep.

★★★

A few hours later, Miguel wakes up. He finds you sitting on the fold out chair, already dressed in different clothes and looking like you’ve showered. You’re on the tablet Ben Reilly brought you yesterday, eyebrows furrowed as you type into the screen.

“Good morning,” Miguel says, his voice sounding raspy and deeper than usual.

You look up and stand up immediately, leaving the tablet on the chair as you approach him.

“Good morning, Miguel. Did you sleep well?”

Miguel nods, closing his eyes for a second, getting used to the brighter light in the room. The sun is out today, and the sky is sprinkled with white clouds. The rain is gone.

“I did, thank you. What time is it?”

“It’s nine.”

“I slept too much,” he responds, opening his eyes.

“You need as much rest as possible,” you reply, observing Miguel’s face. He looks much better today.

“I guess so,” Miguel replies, looking at you again. “You look ready to start the day.”

You nod and smile. “I woke up about two hours ago and decided to go ahead and get ready for the day.”

Miguel gives you a small grin. “What are you working on?”

Meeting his eyes, you continue to smile. “Well, I asked Jess this morning if there was anything else I could help with around here. She assigned me to work on the report for this week.”

Miguel nods, thinking that’s something he always works on, but it doesn’t bother him that you’re doing it. If anything, it makes him think about something. And the thought grows as you grab the tablet and show him your progress so far. The layout is like the current one, just slightly different and he likes it. With the thoughts from last night still present in his mind, Miguel has the sudden thought that maybe he ought to let members do more around HQ. Maybe he should let someone else work on the report with him. Someone like you. He smiles softly as you show him, nodding. He’ll bring it up later, once he’s fully recovered.

“It looks great,” he says, and he means it.

“Thank you,” you say, saving your progress and putting the tablet away. “So, updates. Jess and Peter said they’d be here in a while. They’re bringing breakfast. The doctor came in and said she’ll look at your wounds sometime today to see the progress. Based on how they’re doing, she’ll decide when to discharge you. She also said you can shower today after she checks your wounds. So, would you like me or someone else to bring your personal items for a shower? You can wear normal clothes now, by the way. You just need to wear a jacket or something of the sort that can be slipped on and off if needed without you having to raise your arms too much.”

Miguel nods. “Yes, please. I really would like to shower and wear something else other than this,” he says looking down at the hospital gown. Thankfully he’s wearing his boxers underneath, but he doesn’t like how thin the fabric is and the AC has been constantly on.

“Alright, then we can ask the doctor to check your wounds after breakfast if you want. And then you can shower, which reminds me, the doctor said there’s a male nurse available. He’ll be ready to assist you.”

Miguel shakes his head. “I can do it by myself.”

You frown. “Miguel…”

“At least the lower half of my body, I can,” he says softly and looks away. “I may need help with my hair and torso but that’s it.”

“You’ll let the nurse help you with the rest though, right? You’ll hurt yourself if you try to do it alone.”

Miguel continues to look away. The thought of a stranger, despite being his employee, makes him feel weird, and not because it’s a man. He doesn’t want a stranger to touch him. He sighs and you know why.

“Would you be – more comfortable with one of us helping you?” you ask lowly.

Miguel’s eyes shift to you. There’s Jess, Peter, and you as his options.

You shrug a bit. “I don’t mind. And I’m sure neither would Peter and Jess if you ask them.”

Miguel nods slowly. “I hate to ask…”

You stare at him, swallowing slowly because you have a feeling that he’d prefer for you to help him, but he can’t ask. You decide to put it out there for him.

“I can help you if you’d like.”

And Miguel nods a few seconds later. “Thank you. I’m sorry – I know it’s too much. You’ve done so much already and I…”

“It’s not too much,” you answer softly. “It’s alright. Let’s just focus on you recovering, okay? Everything else – it doesn’t matter.”

Miguel nods but he still feels odd about this. He’s so used to doing everything on his own, which is how he got here, he realizes. He tries to put his feelings away just as there’s a knock on the door. Jess and Peter walk in, both carrying takeout bags. Peter is talking loudly and saying something about a nurse. Miguel and you frown, thinking that they must have been seen carrying in outside food.

“You didn’t get in trouble for bringing outside food?” you ask.

Jess frowns before she realizes what you’re talking about. “Oh, right. There’s that rule. Nobody follows it,” she says with a shrug.

You turn to Miguel as Jess and Peter start putting out the food on the same table from yesterday. The two of you share a look of disbelief at Jess’s comment before you grin, shaking your head softly. Miguel offers you a small smile in return.

The four of you have breakfast. It turns out that Jess brought breakfast from a diner in her universe, apparently a favorite spot of her husband’s, who kindly sent the food and wished Miguel a speedy recovery. After breakfast, Jess and Peter ask Miguel if they can talk about certain tasks that need his approval. You decide to take this time and collect his personal items. He gives you a quick rundown of everything he’d need and where you can find it before you head out.

It doesn’t take you very long. You retrieve his personal hygiene items like his shampoo, body wash, and deodorant along with his hairbrush. You move to the clothes next. It turns out that Miguel has a large walk-in closet, located in his room that you completely missed when you came to look for him two nights ago as the doors blend with the rest of the wall so much. You pick up two pairs of dark grey sweatpants, at his request, and two jackets, along with two pairs of boxers. You remember to grab some slippers and socks as well, and pack everything into a travel bag before you head out of his bedroom, briefly taking in his space.

Miguel’s room is large, clean, and well organized but you can tell he doesn’t spend a lot of time here. Everything is in neutral colors like his grey bed set. You head to Miguel’s home office next to pick up the last thing he requested. A vial that’s supposed to contain a green liquid and a syringe. You wondered but of course you didn’t ask.

You enter the office, finding it like the rest of Miguel’s penthouse; clean and organized, all neutral colors. You head to the desk, remembering he said you’d find what he needs in the first drawer and sure enough, you find the items there. The squared vials, which contain a neon green liquid, are in a small box meant to keep them from breaking. You pick one up, careful not to drop it, and place it in one of the small storage bags within the traveling bag. The large syringe is also in the drawer, and it’s apparently Spider-Man themed as you notice the injecting needles are designed to look like a spider’s fangs. You slide it into the bag, too. You walk out of the office, ready to head back as the strange vial is on your mind.

When you return to HQ, you find Jess and Peter standing off to the side. Miguel is on the bed surrounded by the medical team just as they’re preparing to remove his gauzes. You stick back with Jess and Peter, still holding the travel bag in your hand as Jess tells Miguel about the different things done to fix the system failure from yesterday. Miguel nods, listening intently as a nurse unties the hospital gown from the back of his neck, gently moving it down his arms to not hurt him and for the first time, you see the extent of his injuries. Most of his torso is covered in gauzes with only a few areas showing his skin and it makes you realize just how much he was injured. Thankfully Jess continues talking, showing no hesitation. Meanwhile, you sense Peter going still much like you. He looks out the window with a soft and thoughtful look on his face while you look down at the traveling bag, both of you feeling stunned by the sight of Miguel’s torso covered in gauzes.

You eventually look up again, noticing that the team is now removing gauzes, revealing Miguel’s injuries. Even from this distance you can see light pink lines across his skin from the smaller wounds. You also notice other things, like Miguel’s physique. You obviously know he’s well-built due to being a superhero but as your eyes respectfully inspect his upper body you still feel… admiration? Surprise? In a matter of seconds your eyes take in his broad and defined shoulders, his collarbone, and the lines of definition that mark his chest and abdomen. And when you look at his arms, you notice his large biceps and the veins leading down to his hands. As silly as it sounds all you can think about is that phrase everyone uses when they talk about a well-built and handsome man. It’s like Miguel was sculpted by -

“Did you get everything Miguel needed?”

“What?” you reply quietly, blinking and turning your head to Peter, startled.

“I asked if you got everything Miguel needed. You okay? You look a little distracted,” Peter says with a little grin.

You feel heat rise to your cheeks as you nod. “Yeah, I got everything. And yes, I’m fine. Just – it’s been a stressful weekend, that’s all,” you answer neutrally, looking down at your gizmo as an excuse to avoid Peter’s gaze because you sense that he caught you staring.

You briefly look at Miguel, his eyes are on Jess as she continues to talk, thankfully unaware that you were staring at him. The medical team continues to work and at last, all the gauzes are removed. You can see the worst of his injuries now which include the two large cuts on his side and then the one in his stomach from the trident, which needed stitches. The doctor tells you how to go about cleaning his wounds, as Miguel makes it known you’ll be helping him, so you take note of everything for when the time comes.

“Well, that’s everything. The other thing I was thinking about is that we should consider training or at least educating more members on how to work with the system. Y/N had to get Margo in order to get Lyla working again when she arrived at HQ,” Jess says, not realizing Miguel still hasn’t heard the whole story.

Miguel sits on the bed; the hospital gown is draped over his chest now. At the mention of you arriving to HQ and discovering something was wrong, he meets your eyes. Two people have now mentioned you arriving at HQ and being the one to discover something was wrong. Miguel’s curiosity only grows but he doesn’t ask right now with Jess and Peter here. He’ll be asking you soon, even though he notices you avert his gaze. He returns his gaze to Jess and nods.

“It’s not a bad idea,” he says after a few seconds, which surprises Jess. She was expecting opposition. “Let’s put together a list of members that would be interested and suitable for it.”

Jess nods. “I already have a list. These two are included,” Jess says nodding at you and Peter.

Miguel’s eyes turn to you and Peter. “If you’re interested, you’re approved.”

“Oh, thanks, pal! I’m in.”

You nod. “I’m interested, too. Thank you.”

“Then it’s settled. You’ll be the first to be trained,” Miguel says softly. “I’ll personally teach you once I’m back in the lab.”

Peter and you nod, giving him smiles.

“Well, that’s really everything now. We’ll go ahead and head out so you can shower. Don’t worry about lunch or dinner. My husband and I are cooking something for you,” Jess says smiling fondly. “He agreed you two deserve a homemade meal now that things are calmer. You know how he is,” she adds with a smile that you only see on her when she talks about her partner.

“Thank you, Jess. Please give my thanks to your husband as well,” Miguel says pausing, taking the moment to look at all of you. “Thank you for everything,” Miguel expresses, with his tone full of sincerity.

You smile at him as Jess and Peter say something, not finding it necessary to tell him anything else. You’ve told him already. Being here and helping him is not an inconvenience to you. He’s your friend, and you want to be here for him.

Jess and Peter head out shortly after, and you prepare to help Miguel shower.

You set his personal hygiene items out in the bathroom, along with his clothes before you help Miguel out of the bed once again. You walk with him to the bathroom and start the shower for him, angling the shower head so that he can wash the lower half of his body without getting his torso wet, as too much exposure to water can lead to infection. You leave towels out, easily accessible for him and head out but not before telling him to let you know if he needs help or when he’s ready.

You also ask him to take his time so he doesn’t hurt himself as the deeper wounds will take maybe two or three more days to fully heal. And Miguel promises he will.

You head out, closing the door behind you and prepare the items you’ll be needing to dress his wounds once he’s out. You also prepare the soap, washcloths, and two water basins the medical team provided to wash his upper body.

You wait patiently for Miguel to finish and as you do, you clean around the room to give yourself something to do. You fix his bed, fold the blankets, and rearrange the flowers and snack baskets gifted to Miguel since you picked up more items this morning while Miguel was still sleeping from the waiting area. Once done, you look around as you take a sip of leftover coffee from breakfast and that’s when you hear Miguel’s voice. You walk over and knock, asking if you can come in and do so once he replies yes.

When you walk into the bathroom, Miguel is standing in the shower. A towel is wrapped around his waist. The end of the towel is tucked in but he still his hand over it, as if he’s afraid it’ll slip off.

“Everything okay?” you ask. “No issues?”

“No issues, I just took a long time,” he says quietly.

“That’s alright. As long as you don’t get hurt, that’s all that matters,” you say. “Let me grab the other items, okay?”

He nods before you walk out and retrieve the items you prepared earlier. You come in again, feeling glad the shower is large enough to fit about three people despite a shower chair and bench being inside. Miguel watches silently, unable to stop himself from feeling embarrassed about the whole thing. He observes you place the water basins on the shower chair before you check the water temperature to make sure it’s not too hot, as you don’t want to cause Miguel any irritation or discomfort to his sensitive wounds. You finally angle the shower head towards the water basins to fill them as this is how you’re washing his chest. You check the soap that was given to you by the medical team when you remember.

“Shoot, I forgot to ask for something else,” you say, placing the soap on the bathroom counter. “It shouldn’t take me long, hold on.”

“What’s needed?” Miguel asks curiously, as nothing seems to be missing.

You pause, thinking how to word your statement. “I’m going to ask for gloves. It might be better for me to wear gloves to avoid – touching your injuries directly.”

You feel satisfied with your response. You didn’t say that you’ll be asking for gloves specifically to respect his boundaries regarding physical touch. All throughout the weekend you’ve done your best to avoid it, only touching him when there are fabrics in between and when it’s absolutely necessary. Miguel looks down at you with a look you can only describe as soft and tender, but it’s so brief you almost feel like you made it up.

Miguel gazes at you, knowing your true reason for wanting to request gloves, which leaves him unable to stop this warm feeling from taking root in his chest. Tenderness. It spreads across his chest rapidly and he tries his best to hide it even when he’s sure it’s too late to prevent it from showing on his face, but he can’t help it.

Despite everything, how tired you may be and how much he’s already asking of you, you’re still trying to respect his boundaries, something he’s always been silently grateful for. He gives you a small smile.

“I don’t mind,” Miguel says at last.

You nod slowly. “Okay – you’re sure, though? I can quickly go get some. The medical team has been wonderful, and they’d get me a pair in no time.”

“It’s alright. You don’t need to get gloves,” Miguel replies quietly but with a reassuring tone.

You nod again and look at the water basins, they’re halfway filled now.

“Okay… Alright, then let’s get you cleaned up. You might start getting cold with the AC continuously running,” you say, trying to distract yourself from the fact he’s okay with potentially feeling your hands on his skin.

You push away your thoughts regarding that and prepare yourself mentally, as you don’t want to hurt Miguel in the process. You wash your hands thoroughly and go through the steps the medical team gave you in your head as Miguel waits patiently. The two of you decide to start with washing his chest first before anything else as you both figure that it’ll take the most time and then leave his hair for last.

And so, after grabbing the smaller shower bench to stand on because you can’t reach his shoulders all the way, you begin. You start from Miguel’s shoulders and make your way down slowly. You do this in parts. Cleaning the areas gently, rinsing the soap away, and then softly patting dry Miguel’s skin to avoid any infections. Your movements are gentle and cautious, and you continuously ask Miguel if he’s alright; urging him to tell you if you need to be more careful. Miguel assures you he’s in no pain or discomfort. He almost tells you he believes it’s impossible for you to be any gentler with him. Your gentleness makes him feel like some fragile object that may break with just the wrong look. Thankfully, his embarrassment fades slowly as you don’t seem to mind this. You look so focused on the task, like it’s your sole mission to avoid hurting him.

You dip the washcloth into the water basin once more before you slightly push the shower bench away, no longer needing it for height right now until you wash his back. You carry on while Miguel stands there, still holding the towel around his waist with one hand softly, staring at the shower wall and occasionally looking down at you briefly. He distracts himself for a bit by wondering if he’ll have some scars from this. He’s certain the trident wound will most definitely leave one behind since it was the deepest wound, but it doesn’t bother him. Miguel doesn’t view scars or anything of the sort like stretchmarks on a body as a flaw or imperfection. He’s just curious if there’ll be a physical reminder of this event on his body.

Miguel’s thoughts are interrupted when he feels the washcloth lower on his body. You’re about to reach the trident wound at last and that means you’re reaching his lower abdomen. He feels a bit embarrassed as the towel is just inches above his pelvic area. He’s afraid that you’ll find this to be too much but when he looks at you, you have the same look on your face. You’re not eyeing him or helping him with hesitation. You’re only focused on his comfort and making sure that the wounds are clean. He does think about the way you were looking at him earlier though when the team was removing the gauzes. He noticed a look of surprise on your face, but he doesn’t know if it was due to the injuries or his body overall. Either way, he didn’t mind.

You finish at last and rinse the last part before you dry the area softly but effectively, as this is the area with the worst of his injuries.

“We’re done. Do you feel any discomfort? Please tell me if you do,” you state with concern.

“No discomfort. I hardly felt anything,” Miguel reassures you. “Really, you can relax.”

You sigh softly and nod, relieved because you can tell he’s not lying. “I’m glad to hear that. I was worried I was putting too much pressure at times because some of the wounds had – you know – dry blood, so I wanted to clean the wounds properly,” you softly reply. You give him a small smile now, glad the most nerve wrecking part is over. “Alright, let’s wash the rest of your body now.”

You wash the rest of Miguel’s body, washing his arms all the way to his fingers. You keep a neutral face even when you hold his wrists so you can wash his hands, noticing the slits on Miguel’s finger pads from where his talons come out. And of course, you’re sort of in awe at how large his hands are. It’s not like you haven’t noticed before but they somehow look larger without the suit. You push your thoughts away, making sure that Miguel is in no discomfort and that you don’t waste time but even then, you can’t help but notice how his skin feels or how warm he is. You silently think about how you’ve never encountered anyone with such body warmth.  

The two of you are silent the whole time but it’s a comfortable silence. Neither of you feel the need to fill the quiet and besides, Miguel’s mind is occupied with last night’s thoughts, about the new proposition to educate members on how to operate the system, and on top of that, he’s still wondering how you knew something was wrong. He wants to ask but the fact that you averted his gaze when Jess mentioned it makes him think you’re not ready to talk about it. So, he’ll wait for a few days.

You gently wash Miguel’s sides, his underarms, and finally his back having to use the shower bench again to reach his shoulders. You rinse his body, holding a towel above the one wrapped around his waist to avoid getting it damp. Finally, you pat him dry everywhere again.  

You move to his hair at last. For this, the shower chair is used. You arrange it so that you can stand behind Miguel while he sits on it. With everything you need at your disposal, you start by wetting his hair. You pour warm water, making sure that his hair is completely wet before you lather the shampoo in your hands. You proceed to glide your fingers into Miguel’s hair, gently pressing your fingertips into his scalp.

At your request, Miguel’s eyes are closed since you’re worried water or shampoo will get in his eyes. And the moment he feels your fingertips on his scalp, Miguel’s relieved you requested that of him. His lips part slightly in both surprise and delight at the sensation of your fingers in his hair. Fortunately for him, you don’t notice. He quickly closes his lips and bites the inside of his cheek as he continues to feel your fingertips through his hair. His grip on the towel around his waist tightens and for a few seconds he's afraid his talons will come out.

And you, you’re oblivious to all of this as Miguel tries very hard not to let it show. You just continue to wash his hair, noticing more than ever the curls on Miguel’s hair. His hair is silky, and you briefly wonder what it’d be like to glide your fingers through it when it’s dry. It reminds you of the countless times you played with Peter’s hair, something he absolutely loved, claiming it always eased his stress.

Thinking about Peter in this moment leads you to remember the one time you washed his hair. It was shortly after the two of you moved in together. You painted the living room, and he got paint on it, which refused to come out after the first two showers. He ended up sitting on the tub while you sat on the edge, washing his hair a few times until it finally came off. It was the only time you got to reciprocate such intimate act even though he helped you shower on more than five occasions, when you returned home with nasty bruises and cuts, and completely spent from fighting.

Miguel continues to sit still, your hands still washing his hair gently, and he decides to talk about anything to keep his mind occupied and distracted from your hands on his scalp.

“Have you ever received injuries like these?” he asks, keeping his eyes closed.

The question interrupts your thoughts, and it takes you a few seconds to answer.

“To this degree… One time only. I got cut with a sword,” you say, recalling that incidence. “The guy caught me by surprise while I was helping civilians out of the way. I needed a few stitches.”

Miguel hums softly in acknowledgement. “A sword…”

You chuckle. “Yep. Got home afterwards and well, Peter had to help.”

Miguel turns his head slightly at that. “Peter? You didn’t go to the hospital?”

You slow down your movements as you’re now washing the hair near Miguel’s nape. “I was too – precautious, I guess you could say. Paranoid might be the best term here. I feared that the hospital staff would start asking questions or put two and two together about being Spider-Woman. I was afraid that my identity would be revealed. That Peter’s life would be a mess because of me.”

Miguel listens intently, briefly feeling thankful that the conversation is distracting him from your touch.

“So, I refused to go to the hospital. It was a condition I had. Unless it was very, very serious then I’d go but otherwise no. Peter ended up taking a class on wound care and CPR because of my decision, even though he was very against it, but he was always very supportive… Thankfully by the time that happened he already knew how to take care of it. That was the first and last time he had to give me stitches.”

You pause for a few seconds, thinking. To this day you have a slight scar on the side of your stomach, and you carry it with love, for it’s one of the reminders of Peter’s love. You sigh softly and wash Miguel’s hair near his ears now, careful not to get shampoo on them. Miguel sits there thinking about Peter. He never met the man but just from what he’s acquire, he knows Peter loved you. So much, that he took classes on wound care to treat your injuries. Miguel feels grief for you. You had such a beautiful relationship with Peter. He wonders silently if at this point, you’d be married to him. If you’d have a child by now.  

You’re almost done washing his hair when his thoughts lead to a different line of thinking. He hates it because he knows it’s wrong and yet he cannot stop his thoughts. Would you still be here if Peter was alive? Or would you be just another member who reached the conclusion that perhaps he was a lost cause after weeks of him ignoring your coffee cups? Would you go home to Peter and tell him about your distant boss, who spends too many hours on his own in his lab? Would you be here? Would you be a constant in his life the way you are now?

Would any of this have happened at all, he wonders. If Peter was here, there would’ve been no need for him to show up to your apartment that day you were unwell. There would be no talking on Peter’s birthday over cake and ice cream. No sharing of pan dulce and Mexican candy on Dia de los Muertos night, no one to watch the Christmas lights or New Year’s Eve show with. There would be no you.

You wouldn’t be a part of his life the way you are but if Miguel had the power to choose between you being a part of his life or you living your best life with Peter unscathed, he’d choose the latter, even if it meant there would be no you in his life.

Even the thought, the simple thought, that there’s a chance you could’ve never been a part of his life like this, leaves Miguel with a heavy feeling in his chest that rises to his throat. A feeling that he hasn’t felt in a while and it’s one that tells him he has something to lose again. And that’s how he truly knows. He’s been going backwards all this time. Each moment spent with you behind closed doors talking over coffee, or on rooftops gazing at cities across the multiverse, each moment that either of you’ve shared something with the other about your past and loved ones, or each time he thought of you late at night when his exhausted mind wandered off; he’s been slipping backwards all this time and he hasn’t even realized it until now. And despite knowing he’d give this up for you to be happy with Peter, he still can’t help but grief over the thought alone, causing that feeling to grow in Miguel’s throat.

You continue to wash Miguel’s hair and then rinse, laying your hand gently over his forehead to prevent any water from rolling down his face as you do so. You have no idea what’s on Miguel’s mind or what causes him to sigh deeply before he speaks.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I haven’t said it but I’m sorry for your loss. Peter – he sounds like he was an incredible human being.”

You smile sadly as you rinse his hair out. “Thank you… He was. I wish he would’ve had more time. I think – he would’ve done a lot of amazing things. He had so many goals,” you share quietly, remembering all the ideas and plans he had, which had remained exactly that. Just ideas and plans. You finish rinsing Miguel’s hair and give him a happier smile now. “We’re almost done here.”

Miguel nods gently, still thinking about everything. For once, his mind isn’t occupied with tasks regarding the Spider Society but with other affairs. As you rinse the bottom of his hair, squeezing out the water gently, Miguel opens his eyes.

“Y/N?” he says, making you pause.

“Yes?”

Miguel stays silent for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling.

“Thank you,” Miguel says softly, heavy with sincerity.

And the way he says those simple words, it makes your lips part in surprise and endearment, for you sense that his thanks extend beyond this moment. Miguel turns his head towards you, his red eyes meeting your gaze. You give him a smile.

“Always,” you reply quietly, and he nods with a small smile of his own before you finish rinsing his hair.

You finish helping Miguel with the rest. You dry his hair with a towel and brush it. You help him get dressed once the two of you figure out a way to do so without him feeling improper. At last, Miguel stands in his sweatpants, still topless as you must dress his wounds. You do this in the room instead of the bathroom, with Miguel sitting on the fold-out chair you’ve claimed as yours this weekend. You sit on the shower bench and tend to his wounds the way you were told to, applying your own knowledge from experience over the years.

The TV is on as you work carefully. Miguel seems unbothered until you reach the trident wound and the two lacerations on his side, wincing silently which makes you stop to give him a moment. At last, his wounds are taken care of for the day. You help him apply deodorant before you slip a beige jacket on, zipping it up so he won’t get cold.

It isn’t until you’re done fixing the bathroom from the shower that Miguel asks about the vial, reminding you about it. You get it out along with the syringe before you show them to him. You know he can’t do it himself and despite your curiosity, you don’t ask questions about it, deciding that he’ll share details about it if he wants. So, you only offer to help, and he accepts. He tells you how to do it and the process is over in a few seconds with a fleeting red glow in his eyes. You don’t say anything and neither does Miguel, who looks down at his hands as you put away the syringe.

As promised, Jess arrives during lunch and dinnertime to bring the two of you food. You help Miguel eat both times and you notice he seems in much better spirits than the day before. It’s about 7pm when your gizmo goes off, alarming you of a new notification, and then another, and then another. Miguel, who now sits on the bed, turns to look at you with a puzzled look much like yours as you check it. You smile in amusement as you see it’s your friends, wondering if you and Miguel need something, and just overall asking about his health. Another one arrives, making Miguel raise his eyebrow as you look up at him.

“It’s my friends,” you say with a soft smile. “They’re wondering how you’re doing and if we need anything.”

Miguel nods, noticing the smile on your face as you talk about your group of friends. He realizes you probably haven’t seen them since Friday after the weekly dinner that Peter and Mary Jane host. Dinners that Miguel has been invited to but has never shown up to.

“If you want to see them,” Miguel starts. “They can come.”

You hold his gaze with a bit of surprise, which Miguel finds amusing.

“There are no rules against visitors this late in the evening, and even if there were – they’d probably be disregarded as well, just like the outside food rule,” Miguel says with a shrug, making you smile even more.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

You beam at Miguel, and nod before you invite them over. Your visible excitement makes Miguel feel pleased with his decision. And, in the span of ten minutes, you and Miguel are joined by all your friends, including Lego Spider-Man, who was apparently hanging out with Noir. Miguel sits on the bed, surrounded by some of your friends as you hang out by the windows with Hobie and Pav specifically.

You watch Miguel as he talks to Lego Spider-Man, who’s held in Noir’s palm. You notice he gives Miguel a balloon and a flower, from his Lego universe, of course. Miguel nods at something the small superhero tells him, and you smile faintly before turning your attention back to your friends.

Miguel thanks everyone as they approach him, not only for the cards and well wishes but for helping around HQ. When Miles approaches him, he takes the time to thank him for his words – for his forgiveness.

“Wait, you guys know what I just realized?” Pav asks suddenly in a surprised tone.

You and Hobie both raise an eyebrow.

“This is the first time I’ve seen Miguel in normal clothes. This is so weird,” he shares frowning at Miguel, who doesn’t notice Pav’s shock. “It’s like – It feels wrong to see him like this.”

Hobie chuckles and you try not to laugh, catching Miguel’s eyes. He raises an eyebrow at you, as if asking what’s so funny. You shrug and mouth “later.” He nods as Pav continues about how strange Miguel looks until he changes the discussion to Gayatri, his girlfriend.

Miguel looks around the room, now filled with chaotic energy. His eyes land on you as you smile and nod at something Pav says.

He sighs quietly. He thinks about the dream with his family, about their words. He remembers Gabriel asking him to try to move forward and live life, and Miguel telling his brother he’d try. He doesn’t know exactly how he’s going to approach this entirely, but he is going to try. And as he continues to look at you, he thinks of his thoughts from earlier; about the possibility of you not being here or being his friend.

He'd give this up if it meant you’d be happy at home with Peter right now. If he had the power, he would but he doesn’t. He can’t change the past. None of it. No matter how much he has wished he could, it’s out of his hands. And so, he has no other excuse to give this up. No other excuse to push this away or catch himself from falling backwards even though he knows it’s too late anyway. He can’t walk away even if he wanted to.

“It’s gonna be alright, tío,” Miles says out of nowhere, noticing Miguel staring at you.

Miguel looks at Miles and nods. “Yeah, you’re right. Thank you… mijo.”

Miles nods with a grin, his eyes light up at Miguel’s response, which the commander of the Spider Society notices.

“Uh – I just remembered I need to tell Gwen something. I’ll be right back,” Miles says, looking like he can’t believe what he heard, amusing Miguel before he walks to Gwen.

Miguel’s eyes return to you. He has a lot to share with you about his life; like his childhood, the situation with his parents, Gabriel’s death, or why he needs to use suppressants among other events in his life. He’ll share those things with you one day, little by little. The same way one day he’ll say those words that his mouth begs him to say.

You’re my friend.

One day, he’ll claim you as his friend out loud, too. In the meantime, he’ll try to show it through his actions instead.

___________ *Translation for italicized Spanish words:* conchas - Mexican bread shaped like a seashell Dia de los Muertos - Day of the Dead Mierda - Shit Tío - Uncle Pan Dulce - Sweet bread; Mexican pastry breads Mijo - My son ___________ Hi, guys! So sorry for taking a while to update. I honestly didn't expect to take this long writing this part. I had a clear idea for this part but got caught up with family events and just life in general. To the anon that asked when this part was going up and I said last Monday - I'm sorry it took me basically another whole week. 😭 I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter though. My simpness jumped out for this one so bad lol. The speakable things I'd do for this man are unreal!! I just want to hug Miguel and hold him and tell him he's worth it and deserving of love and friendships!!! 🥺

Anyway, I hope to return to my regular Sunday schedule this upcoming weekend. I'm also planning on doing some short drabbles for this month because I can't stop thinking about autumn and Miguel and just how freaking cozy he would be. Also, just very quickly! Some readers have drawn fan art for Nonviolent Communication, which I still cannot wrap my head around. I'm so, so thankful that these lovely artists drew art for it. I never imagined that someone, let alone two people, would take time out of their days to do so. Thank you again so much! 🥹 If you're interested to see some of the scenes from the story, including someone's take on reader's Peter (which @sunsetdoodler somehow managed to draw exactly like my personal vision of him??! I still feel emotional. One of their drawings was also the inspiration for the larger coffee cups for Miguel after we talked about Miguel probably needing more caffeine because of his physique lol) then please go check it out, and show the artists some love, please!! It's all linked on my masterlist. Thank you so much for the support throughout this story. I genuinely love reading the comments and asks I receive, and I hope you guys continue to enjoy the story to the end. I'm just really in awe with how wonderful this community is and I'm thankful to my 6'9" half-Irish, half-Mexican boyfriend for it.

I'm off to sleep now as it's 1am and I've been writing and editing all weekend lol. Take care guys and enjoy the spooky vibes this month!! ❤️🎃🍁

-Alondra🍁

Tag list: @loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @rootin-tootin-morgan @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp @rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @mandodinstuff @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze @yujyujj @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea

[paradisecas]

MIDAM ANNIVERSARY MIDAM ANNIVERSARY. i was supposed to have the proposal fic finished by midam anniversary 2023 and wouldnt you know it im STILL not done. but i want to celebrate so here’s the very beginning, which takes place right before last year’s preview.

——

“Miss Plumber says she got married and we can call her Mrs. Jacobs now,” Bunny says over dinner. She tears at her roll a little too violently, mushing butter between her fingers. Adam knows she’ll refuse to use a napkin and that he and Michael will spend half an hour after bathtime wiping greasy smudges off every surface in the house. He mourns the rags he’ll have to wash tomorrow.

“That’s exciting,” Adam says, picking his battles and letting her continue getting all buttery. “Getting married is a big deal.”

Kitty starts to say something, but she’s still chewing her massive bite of spaghetti and Michael, who has a sixth sense for these things, shoots her a warning look. Kitty, of course, takes this warning as an excuse to open her mouth and let the unchewed mass plop onto her plate in her hurry to say, “Tony from my class said his dad got married too and that he doesn’t see his mom a lot anymore ‘cause she married someone else first.”

Michael’s admonishment dies out immediately. Adam actually watches it happen—his grace goes from indignantly disgusted to rapturously curious in a split second. “Oh?” he says, and Adam kicks him under the table.

This is not the time or place to press their child for gossip.

(That’s what the PTA group chat is for, anyway. Someone’s bound to know what went on with David and Amanda.)

“Sometimes things are complicated,” Adam decides to say.

“Very complicated,” Michael says, a little too gleeful, and Adam kicks him again.

“Miss Plumber showed us some pictures,” Bunny starts again, smearing her buttered hands along the tabletop, but Liv starts babbling around her green beans so Adam is forced to tune Bunny out in favor of his youngest. Michael will tell him anything he’s missed.

Her bib patterned with small turtles is stained red, not just from tonight, and Adam tries to add laundry to the to-do list on the fridge through sheer force of will, but. He’s not an archangel. He’ll have to remember to do that later.

When Liv is back to happily gnawing on her dinner, Adam turns back to the table’s conversation, just in time to hear Kitty ask, “Are you married?”

Adam blinks. Michael catches his eye across the table and shrugs with one shoulder.

“We’re not,” Adam says.

“Why?”

“It’s a human thing,” Michael says. “Angels don’t get married.”

“Oh.” Kitty looks down at her plate, almost forlorn. Then, again, “Why?”

“Angels are siblings, ergo we don’t get married,” Michael says, which is simplifying things to a ridiculous degree, but they can cover—that—later. When the girls are older. Much, much older.

Kitty nods. “Right,” she says, going to shove another forkful of spaghetti in her mouth and seemingly thinking better of it. “But you love each other?”

“Of course we do,” Michael says immediately.

It’s a valiant effort, truly, but Adam fails to squash down the smile that takes over. “Of course we do,” he repeats, “but we’re—it’s romantic and exciting, but we don’t need that.”

Because they don’t. It’s been—they’ve been together long enough that technically, probably, they’re considered common law married. Or they would be, if Michael was a human with a social security number and a place in the American census or whatever it takes to get legally married. And it’s not like they need a piece of paper or some rings to hammer in the knowledge that they’re it for each other, for the literal rest of time.

“Why?” Bunny asks, taking her turn in the inquisition.

“Why don’t we need it?” Adam asks. “We love each other. And we love you, and that’s enough.”

Kitty hums around her spaghetti. Liv shoves her sauce covered fingers into her mouth. Bunny hmphs, and says, “You should get married.”

Something flickers inside Adam, then. Not grace—this is different. Closer to what he felt in that diner, mere hours after they fled the tsunami of hell and neither he nor Michael were ready to admit the full truth of what they wanted from each other at the same time as they carefully confessed that they knew they’d figure it out together.

Michael meets his eyes, and Adam thinks he might feel it too: the red-hot flame, somehow gentle as a candle as it roars in an inferno.

Huh. Something to think about, then.

[halloweenhorrors]

» Headcanons for the different Paulo’s [pt 1]

Summary; These headcanons are all mixed about. There will be general and romantic headcanons on the different Paulo actors. Might update this with more added to it in the future.

I’ve decided to split this into multiple parts due to the fact I’m too impatient and wanna share what I’ve got so far and cause of the fact that I’m still in the works of making headcanons for some other actors/versions of Paulo. So enjoy what I’ve got so far and again please don’t be shy to give me any headcanons. I’d love to hear them! The links take you to the videos where I screen recorded the footage to make the gifs (minus babyface Paulo). Also there will be mention and/or use of y/n, (name), etc.

OG!Paulo (Gianni)

🎞️ Very reluctant about affection and such. Not because he doesn't necessarily want it, but because he isn't used to it. And also because he isn't used to being vulnerable around anyone. He's tolerant with your affections if you've lived this long, just don't expect it back immediately. He'll grow and learn to open up in the future.

🎞️ In this interview, the interviewer described Paulo as the following, “tense and jittery, clutching his jacket, constantly squirming and stammering as disturbing thoughts are shaped into words” which makes me feel like he has, what most could probably agree with me, ocd and adhd. Probably a sprinkle of bpd too.

🎞️ You'll never find him without his film camera. If you see him without it, run walk the other way. He becomes a perturbed mess without it in his hands. Not only because he uses it like a fidget relief but he does not like the idea of something happening and not having his camera with him to capture the moment. Dissociates at the knowledge he can't find the moment he just witnessed with his eyes.

🎞️ Absolutely hates modern technology with a passion. Will go into a hour long rant about how awful cgi as a whole is. Why fake someone getting impaled with a stake when you can recreate the real thing? His thought process for anything that "needs" cgi, for ex. the meg movie, shouldn't be made a movie in the first place if it requires cgi.

🎞️ Sleeps in his suit. Good luck trying to get him to wash it. Actually— good luck trying to get him to take a bath as well. Mf reaks. You’ll probably have to force him to bathe with his suit on so it’s basically killing two birds with one stone.

XX/16!Paulo (My favorite🫣)

🎬 Diva of them all. I'll die on this hill. The videos with him alone give it away.

🎬 Strong take on having ocd and bpd. Mf can go from having a screaming match, with Jack, Adaru, or one of his actors who isnt showing what he's wanting to capture, to being all romantic and flirty towards you moments after.

🎬 Demanding af. Literally expects you to drop anything and everything for him and basically be at his beck and call. He's tall af too so if he's demanding your love or attention and you don't give it to him immediately because your busy? No worries. He'll just scoop you up into his arms and carry you to where ever it is he wants you whether it be to cuddle on the couch or review film footage with him.

🎬 He’s also the most emotional, at least when showing it. Mf was tweaking during the 16 icon movie. Also when the interviewer made a comment about his teeth he literally goes, “what about my teeth? ☹️”. Ik he goes back to being all threatening after that but I’d like to imagine that little comment stuck with him for a few weeks.

🎬 Yknow that trope where the Big Bad doesn't give a single solitary fuck about anyone but their own desires, but their soft spot is their significant other? Yeah, he fits inside that little box real nicely. If anything happened to you he would kill anyone in his path.

🎬 Everything he does, no matter how big or small, has you at the forefront of his mind. You become his top priority once you catch his attention, and catch his attention you certainly have! It becomes kind of obsessive.

Baby Face!Paulo

📹 He's the most quiet of them all in my opinion and from what I've seen from video interactions. Could just be actor's choice but since this post is meant for headcanons, I like to think that he's selective mute. At least until an "actor" or guests makes one wrong move and he has to raise his voice at them. Overall he most likely will just silently pose his actors into whatever position he needs like those stop motion movies where they have to pose the clay figures.

📹 He’s very non expressive, his face is always neutral. Even if you flirt with him he doesn’t react, unless you look close enough to see his pupils dilate or if you put a hand on his pulse you’d notice a spike. It’s all internal. He’d mostly just react by hugging or gentle affection. He’s more actions than words.

📹 Literally sees red if anyone compares or thinks he looks younger than 30 (ik he’s canonically 49). You call him babyface? Little man? Baby boy? Will silently stare into your soul as he imagines all kinds of ways to film your death.

📹 The reason he has two different colored eyes is cause I assume it’s a style choice similar to like a two face reference to how in the video (Gianni’s commercial) he starts off with a normal eye color then slowly switch to pale white. I don’t think he did anything to get his eye to be a different color, I think it basically meant how him and the other icons are dead/immortal now that they’ve embraced fear and are under his influence.

Singapore!Paulo (Billy)

📼 Ngl, from my standpoint, he's the most insensitive and indifferent of the "Paulo versions" or actors. I know some may disagree and say Gianni's is the most authentic Paulo actor and while I do agree his performance was perfection, Singapore's version seems the most authentic in my mind because of the lack of videoed interactions and information about him. The main backstory for The Director as a character is that he left/fled from his home country to flee the police and continue creating his snuff films. It makes it all the more realistic to me that we wouldn't know much about him due to him trying to avoid police, making his films under the radar. Also he just looks intimidating, especially with the scar that we also know nothing about.

📼 This also makes it where he likes referring to the most random past events from his life at the most random times just to fuck with you for a reaction. The more absurd sounding, the better.

📼 Moving on..

📼 "Dating" is a very stretched word when it comes to Billy. Being who he is makes it impossible for him to love like the average person would, because of his dark tendencies having distorted him greatly over time. It's more probable for him to "possess" you as he views you more like a preferable muse than an actual partner.

📼 However, just because he can't mentally see himself as a lover doesn't mean he doesn't try physically. He doesn't particularly care if the outside world believes he can't, but behind closed doors? He's anything but that. He's very similar to Gianni with affection and such but is more reluctant earlier on.

📼 He surprisingly has a huge soft spot for you. After all you are his muse. You have never seen him being angry or even raise his voice in frustration infront of you even if you break his favourite expensive limited camera or changed the layout of his film rolls causing his OCD to irk. But he would just smile at you meanwhile he would peel anyone else’s skin for even doing a single mistake. In his eyes you can do no wrong.

[corviride]

Welcome to the webbed site friend :)

Let's start off simple - glance, canvas, hair - for any OCs of your choice.

Y'know what, I'm gonna do all three! Or-- Well, I guess it's two and a half since Jsashe is based on a canon character? Anyways, first is Daighre, the Dragonborn.

glance: At first glance, what stands out most about your OC's appearance? What's their distinguishing feature?

It's easy to tell at a glance how poorly Daighre has taken all of this Dragonborn business - her hair is messy and has not been washed in a while, her eyes are ringed with bags and rarely does she ever take her hood down -- she doesn't want to be noticed, and that sort of thing is itself rather noticeable.

canvas: Does your OC have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings? Do they display or cover them up at all?

Of scars she has plenty, but none are particularly notable. More notable is her tattoos, of which there are many. I haven't come up with a design yet, but her left arm is covered in a full sleeve that'll extend onto her back and the nape of her neck. Will have to think more on a design!

hair: as far as I can tell, this one is not from the og ask game, but I'll answer it regardless cause hair is important!

Her hair is a dark brown, and she cut it short somewhere on the road between her home village and Markarth - formerly, it was worn down, hanging down in between her shoulderblades, but now it's just hanging low enough to cover the back of her neck. For pure practicality, of course - shorter hair takes less maintenance. She usually wraps the little hanging hair she has left up. It's still not the cleanest hair - girl hasn't really had the time for a bath recently. _ Next up, Aerikke, the warrior.

glance

Aerikke is a giant, even for Nords -- standing 6'6, with a weapon to match and a character that certainly does not, she looms large in any environment, quite literally. With her deathly-pale skin and glinting silver eyes, she looks a bit otherworldly, as if she were pulled from prehistory and placed in a time she could not possibly belong in. She is, however, the most well adjusted of the three, and also the only one who can actually talk to people, so once you get past the shock at how tall she is she's actually quite nice to be around. Dings her head on doorframes sometimes though.

canvas

She is absolutely covered in scars - what do you expect of a nord, exactly? A few notable ones include:

A cut that crosses her palm; she got it working at a lumber mill -- she was sharpening an axe when her hand slipped and she split open her palm.

A sabrecat's claw's mark across the right side of her jaw; I don't believe I need to explain how that happened. She killed the sabrecat, though, so who really got the last laugh?

A gash along her right forearm. That she got in a bar fight - someone drew a knife, she can't remember who.

She regularly touches the scar on her palm - it's a nervous tic.

hair

Her hair is a bright, silvery-blonde, fastidiously cared for, long and, usually, worn in a braid. She wears jewelry woven into the braid. She's easily the most well off of the three of them.

-

Finally, Jsashe, who cannot be said to be anything as of yet, but she's gonna be a witch!

Okay i actually need to think about this one more because I am still formulating her in my head. Get back to me later on this.

[lollytea]

It’s 2014 and 4*Town disbanded years ago. Only Robaire and Tae Young are still actively making music, while the rest have happily faded into their retirement.

It’s literally out of nowhere, on a Tuesday of all days, at 2:46 in the afternoon, when Aaron Z comes out.

Tyler is sitting in his car in a Five Guys parking lot, already dealing with the quandary of having more fries than he knows what to do with, when he reads the hot topic of the week. The article has been up for less than an hour.

Once he’s read every word, he slowly sets his phone down in his lap and stares out his windshield, dazed. One text buzzes. Then another. And another. But he’s too distracted to acknowledge it.

After what’s either an hour or ten minutes of gazing blankly into space, he calmly folds his arms over the steering wheel, presses his face against them and cries. He doesn’t cry for long, he doesn’t need to. Just a good two minutes to get it out of his system.

Obviously he’s not gonna be a complete sobbing wreck over this. Why would he be? He’s barely thought about 4*Town since his teens. Usually when the band is mentioned these days, it’s an inside joke, an affectionately cradled memory of cheesiness, shared between himself and four of the most batshit women he’s ever met.

But joke or no joke, this hits.

He takes a deep breath, then draws it out to steady himself. He sits upright and scrubs the dampness from his cheeks. All he needed was that moment. He’s fine now.

His phone is still attempting to catch his attention. (Buzz, buzz, buzz) so he fishes it out from between his legs, already half knowing what to expect.

It’s unmistakable. That is the relentless symphony of group chat fuckery. And judging from the recent news and the excitement of multiple texting thumbs, he’s pretty sure he knows which group chat.

A broad grin splits his face when the opening text that erupts in rapid conversation is ‘TYLER’

Times change, people change, memories shift and deteriorate. Sometimes it takes a little trigger to refresh the past. But some stuff sticks like Hell. And there is no memory more adhesive than the celebrity crushes your friends had in middle school.

Aaron Z was his. And he was the first person they thought of when they read the news. His smile is so wide, it’s causing an ache in his cheeks.

He scrolls through a myriad of colorful emojis, with some sentences scattered here and there. Yup, that’s his girls. Completely incoherent unless you’ve had over a decade of experience with them.

They’re screaming among themselves, catching up, sending gifs, all occasionally wondering his whereabouts and if he’s heard yet.

‘Blasting nobody like u as we speak’

‘Nostalgiaaaa’

‘Can we please go out tonite? I miss u guys’

‘Where the FUCK is Tyler’

‘I found the CD Mir gave me forever ago ❤️’

‘❤️❤️❤️’

‘TYLER YOUR HUSBAND’

Once he’s caught up, he decides to make his grand appearance, padding out a comment before one of them bursts a blood vessel.

‘13 yo me knew what was up’

The chat explodes, delighted that he’s showed up to contribute to the discussion.

If you could call this a discussion.

He eases back in his seat, feeling a comfort wash over him that he didn’t realize he was missing minutes prior. He’s got his ass lodged in plenty of group chats, but this is the only one where he never feels an ounce of anxiety.

He allows himself a moment of geeking out about his Z. His girls respond enthusiastically. 

Mei makes a typo.

Like any decent friend, he repeats the typo.

‘SHUT UPPPP U ASSHOLE 😡’

‘My hands are bigger than ur head rn’

‘Lmao’

He’s laughing from his gut like he’s still thirteen and giddy with the reality of having friends.

‘Mir pls come eat my five guys fries I have too much’

‘I’m at work Tyler’

‘Why don’t u love me’

‘Tyler’

‘Help him Miriam’

‘HELP HIM MIRIAM’

He’s sitting in that parking lot for over an hour. The conversation settles once Miriam’s break is over, as nobody wants to have any fun without her.

Plans are made. In honor of the occasion, they’re going to karaoke tonight and getting black out drunk. 4*Town hits will be screeched from their lungs on this fine evening and that is a promise.

It’s some sort of miracle really. Hanging out with friends in your twenties is hard. The five of them are rarely ever free at once and it feels wrong to leave any of them out.

Whatever stars aligned to make this possible, he humors himself with imagining Aaron Z had something to do with it. Fate or cosmic luck or whatever.

He presses two fingers to his lips and blows the kiss in no particular direction.

“Still love you, man.”

[boeswhore]

Hi! Could you write 63,65 and 68 with Jack Hughes?

63. “my torso isn’t exactly a pillow you know.”

65. “how did you get that black eye?”

68. “i’ve got you. just stay awake. can you do that for me?”

you look up from your book to see your boyfriend stumbling in through the front doors. you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

you place your book in the coffee table as you reach him slowly, “jack? what’s wrong?” you ask as he shakes his head but lets out a loud groan.

“hey, hey what’s happening? are you alright? and why are you wearing sunglasses it’s literally cloudy out.”

you reach up to remove the sunglasses and your eyes widen as you let out a gasp. “what the fuck jack! oh my god, how— how did you get that black eye?”

he opens his mouth to respond but lets out a low groan, his fingers reaching up to press at his temples.

next thing you know, he’s fluttering in and out of consciousness leaning against your shoulder. your heart is pounding as you quickly move to hold your boyfriend up.

“i’ve got you. just stay awake. can you do that for me?”

he nods slightly, as you take his arm and wrap it around your shoulder as you secure yours around his waist, gently hobbling to your shared bedroom.

to your luck, he was already washed and changed and you wondered how he managed to do that all tipsy and dizzy.

you gently lay him down, taking a seat beside him brushing his semi wet hair out of his face. “how did this happen?” you ask quietly.

“took a puck to the eye,” he mumbles and you wince at the picture of your boyfriend laying on the ice in pain.

“i’ll be right back.” you say but jack quickly clutches your hand, stopping you from moving.

“no— please don’t leave me.”

your heart broke, seeing him so vulnerable.

“i’m just grabbing some ice for your eye bubs, and i’ll grab a couple of painkillers as well.” he looks hesitant but gently lets go of his deathly grip on your hand.

once you walk back into the room, jack immediately does grabby hands towards you. you set the water bottle on the side table, handing him his pills which he hastily takes and swallows down with water.

you go to place the ice on his bruised eye but he has different plans, wrapping his arms around your waist pulling you under him as he lays his head on your chest.

“jack— what are you doing? you’re hurt!” you scold as you try to pry yourself from his tightening grip. you let out a tsk, shaking your head.

“i need to ice your eye, how else is the swelling going to heal?” you question causing him to mumble some gibberish into your chest.

you try to place the ice on his eye but having his face smushed against your chest didn’t make that quite easy. “cmon jack, please.” you plead and he groans; lifting his head to lock his eyes with yours as he rests his chin on your chest.

“thank you,” you grin, as you tentatively place the ice pack against his painful black eye causing him to wince and pull his head back from your touch.

“sorry baby. it’s going to hurt i know.” you comfort, placing a hand on his cheek to keep him in place, “just a few minutes, okay?”

he nods, as you lean forward to place a kiss against his temple before placing the ice back on.

“no more, please i want cuddles.” he whines and you chuckle at his childish behaviour. your boyfriend was the biggest baby whenever he got injured.

you pull the ice pack away, placing it on the side counter as he gently places his head back down on your torso, tightening his grip against your hips.

he moves his hand for a split second to take your hand and place it on his head and you take it as your cue to gently card your fingers through his fluffy brown hair. he presses a kiss against your tummy, before setting his arms around your waist.

“my torso isn’t exactly a pillow you know.” you say and he lets out a small laugh, “to me it is.”

you giggle, placing a kiss to his forehead. “alright— get a quick power nap in while i order us some pizza and then we’re icing your boo boo again.”

he places another kiss against your chest in response as you pull the covers over the both of you.

“thank you babe.”

“no need to thank me, you know i’d help you with anything jacky.”

“even a broken bone?”

“let this black eye heal first j,”

[pagesfromthevoid]

i was just in the middle of reorganizing my shelves but when i saw your requests open, i ran back to tumblr so fast pls 😭😭

hear me out now:

knife against throat and "let's just kiss to see what it's like" w adrian. im so curious to read what you'll come up with 😮‍💨 she/her pronouns but tbh gender neutral is fine too !!

-momo 💕💕💕

The latest and greatest bad guy that Adrian and Chris were trying to take down was a now rogue member of the suicide squad. Chris had explained that they were on the first team —having been sent to die as decoys. Chris explained that he was pleasantly surprised they were even still alive; he thought their luck would run out eventually. Adrian didn’t seem to care who they were, since they were causing problems. Anyone Harcourt said was an issue was a bad guy, as far as Adrian was concerned.

Though, Harcourt didn’t explicitly say they were an issue. Just that they had been spotted.

“Why were they on the team?” Adrian asked, resting his machete on his shoulder as they walked through a suspiciously empty corridor.

“They’re just really lucky,” Chris explained, cocking his gun.

Adrian didn’t really understand the explanation, assuming Chris meant that they just got chosen. But quite literally —they were lucky. They could push things in their favor if they willed it to.

“Let’s split up,” Chris ordered, pointing down a hallway. “I’ll go east, you west.”

“That’s north and south.”

“No it fucking isn’t.”

“Uhh I’m pretty sure it is,” Adrian argued. He pulled his phone out. “Hey Siri, which way is north where I am?”

“Dude, put that shit away,” Chris demanded, snatching his phone. “Just go that way, I’ll go this way. We’ll meet back here in fifteen.”

Chris threw Adrian’s phone back at him, taking off down the hallway. Adrian huffed in frustration, pocketing his phone, then taking off the opposite direction. He kicked open each door, peering inside each as he made his way down towards the double doors at the end of his corridor.

He had this weird feeling wash over him suddenly, like this overwhelming need to drop his weapon. Adrian didn’t, of course, but there was a weird urge still poking at him to do so. His brow furrowed under his mask as he shoved open another door, pointing his machete into the room as he examined it.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” he sang into the empty space, stepping further in.

“Marco!”

Adrian spun, looking around with his sword out as he meet the gaze of who was probably the prettiest fucking person he’d ever seen. Hands on their hips, head cocked to the side and a sword at their throat —they just grinned at him devilishly. It made his stomach twist into knots. Why were the bad guys always so hot? What the shit?

“Polo?” He responded, though he seemed unsure.

“Did Waller send you?” They asked, reaching up to touch the blade against the throat.

“Who?”

They looked around for a moment, brow raised. Usually when they asked straight forward questions, they got honest answers. It was a great perk of their powers; forced honesty. It was just their luck, after all. But the masked man in front of them seemed genuinely unsure who they were asking about.

“Are you here with a team or anything?” They continued to prompt.

“Oh yeah, I’m with Peacemaker!”

They made a face. “Gross. Here I thought they’d at least send someone worth fighting.”

“Hey!” He yelled at them, pressing the blade a bit further into their skin. Their hands went up. “I’m Vigilante. I’m definitely worth fighting!”

“You really wanna fight me?” They asked, brow raised as they pushed the sword away now. Adrian couldn’t help but let them; which annoyed him.

“Uh, obviously. That’s why I’m here.”

“Luck won’t be on your side,” they warned him, suddenly thrusting their leg out and knocking him back on the ground.

Adrian let out a surprised yell, falling back on his ass. The machete slid across the room as they stood straight, hands back on their hips. He stared up at them through his visor, surprised how easily they got the jump on him. Adrian scrambled up, unsheathing a knife as he swiped back at them. They ducked, suddenly snatching one of the other knives he had on his belt and holding it up with a grin.

“That the best you got?” They asked, motioning for him to come at them.

Adrian slashed the knife again, but they blocked it with the knife they stole from him. Every move he made, they blocked or countered with ease. When Adrian determined that the knife fight wasn’t going to do anything, he resorted to grabbing at them and throwing them to the ground. They seemed surprised, suddenly, that he got the upper hand. But they didn’t stay down long, kicking his feet from under him.

He cussed angrily, but they were on top of him now, knife to his throat. Adrian swallowed hard, looking up at them through the red tint of his visor. That same devilish grin appeared as they leaned in.

“I think I win, Vigilante,” they taunted, “What’s it gonna be like to die by your own knife?”

“Fuck, I don’t know. Probably hot, honestly,” he offered up. They looked down at him with surprise. “You wanna see my face? Why do I wanna show you my face?”

“I’m just really lucky you like me,” they said simply, reaching for his mask. Even though he had offered —very much against his will, because he really didn’t want to —Adrian wiggled under them, trying to fight back as they tossed his mask to the side. There was another surprised look, and then a hum left their mouth. “Oh, shit. You’re cute. That’s a shame.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he quickly said, blinking some as his vision adjusted to not only being normal colors, but also being blurry as shit. “Hey, let’s just make out. Like let’s just kiss. See what that’s like. I’m cute, you’re cute. You’re already on top of me —“

“You’re seriously asking me to make out when I have a knife to your throat?”

“It’s really hot, honestly.”

“Vig!”

Chris burst through the door, and they looked up with annoyance. They hummed again, considering their options. “Maybe another time, Vigilante.”

“Oh, no, wait —“

But they were off of him without another word, taking off towards the window. Chris started shooting, but every shot missed as they crashed through the window. The fall alone should have killed them, and Adrian shoved himself off the ground to run after them.

They were gone though.

“Fuck dude,” he said, snatching up his mask. “Way to cockblock me!”

“What the fuck are you on about?” Chris demanded.

[prettyboykatsuki]

am i warm enough for you?

➳ tags ;; soulmate au, strangers to lovers, fluff and angst but mostly fluff, some-what canon compliant, bakugo katsuki is bad at feelings, lots of Feelings™, you guys are adults but the end of the fic but the fic is sfw, alcohol, drunk confessions

➳ wc ;; 5.6k..

➳ plot summary ;; you see your soulmate in dreams - sometimes in bits and pieces and other times in full. bakugo is less than inclined to admit he even has a soulmate - and you learn how to cope with it, one day at a time.

bakugo learns that this soulmate shit is no joke. that has to be why he keeps falling for you so helplessly.

➳ a/n ;; i wasn’t even gonna comeback this early but it felt so wrong not to post on my bfs birthday so alas </3 for anyone who cares to know this is @elysianseraph but with my new url. nice to see u all <3

this was originally posted on 4/20 but im reposting cause it didn’t show up in the tags dskjds

It’s hazy.

A cloud of smoke settles over your body, permeating your lung. It smells like sugar, like burning, like smoke and a little like leather. You can feel your toes curl and your hands moving but your body is separate from you in a way you can’t describe. It’s a pleasant kind of warmth that spreads, creeping up from behind your neck till it’s soft and cradling your skull. It’s soft like the touch of a mother, like wool over your ears.

It’s a pleasant feeling, that’s all. Almost cozy but there’s a fading sense of distress that chills in your lungs as you encompass it. Your hands are too small to reach forward, and truthfully the sensation is so powerful that you’re afraid to reach out. You’re 6 years old, so all you know is how it makes you feel. You can’t remember many details, but you feel pleasant. Something about it is soft, but there’s a sharp edge right at the end that has your lungs gasping for air.

It’s a flash of colors. Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red. Orange. Red.

And then it fades into a feeling again. A blurry feeling. You feel conflict, then concern, then inadequacy in heavy waves almost like it’s drowning you. It’s the first time you’ve experienced such a pain, so your wailing and wiping tears away with chubby fingers and saying a name you don’t know and can’t remember.

Ka. You know the sound, Ka. But you don’t know of anything more. It repeats rhythmically in your mind like a knock on the door, rapping with urgency - but it doesn’t do anything to jog your memory. Someone is trying to be let in but you don’t know how to answer them, and you’re still crying. The distress, the inadequacy shakes you and all you feel is frustration in short simple bursts.

Your first encounter with your soulmate is written this way in your memory. A sense of urgency laced with frustration - but they’re not towards you. It’s him, his feelings - you can feel them even deeper then he can. They pierce you in a way that makes it hard to breathe, no matter how you try to escape them it’s an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. The only way to escape the feelings of a dream is either to control them, or to face them and swim through the fog.

Soulmates have an urgency to them, in general. His is different, you can tell as much. Your first soulmate dream leaves the heaviest impression and each one thereafter is like pieces of a puzzle.

Sometimes you simply share random dreams, like a split screen in a video game - the two of you witness different parts of the same dreamverse. Other times, and honestly - most times, you’re experiencing their emotions or feelings. You experience their core memories, their life, in flashes and bits and pieces.

It’s not enough to know them or who they are, it’s like know everything about them except the things that matter

Sometimes you meet too. Just barely.

MEETING 1:

The room is white. When you blink, colors flash in order - red, pale yellow, orange, forest green and you know. You blink a few more times, stretching your hands out in front of yourself. Curling your hands into fist then into stretched palms, you lean forward and stretch. You wriggle your toes - notice you're wearing shoes. Clothes from your closet. Strange.

You take a look around the room but there isn't much to see. There’s a wall in front of you with a glass divider and a mirrored empty room. The room across from yours has spiky decor littered against the walls. An orange dresser, plastic grenades and play guns. You know who it is without a second warning - and a foggy part in the back of your head tells you that it’s him, again but with more force. You don’t see anything in your room, but you figure he might. All of it is confusing to you.

Before you can blink, there’s a loud thud coming from the other side of the glass. It’s a silhouette, the outline of a face - but nothing clear. Dream logic dictates you can’t know a face you’ve never seen, yet somehow you know his outline. Spiky, he’s spiky everywhere.

“Hello?,” you call out, overly tentative. The figure pauses, seems to take in whatever they must be seeing. You’re not sure what response you’re expecting, really. There’s no expectations at all.

“...Who the fuck are you?,” says a pitchy, male voice. He sounds like he’s your same age, a highschool boy. His throat is rough, yet not overly deep. It’s almost scratchy.

“Uhm,”

You’re not sure how to reply. You can see him through the glass, but not really. Still, you take note of his shadows like they’re going to tell you anything more. You shove your hands in your pockets, messing around with something inside.

“Uh.. your soulmate, I think,” you reply.

Scratching the back of your neck as an awkward silence settles, you take a few minutes to try and figure what more to say.

“We met when we were kids once too,” you explain awkwardly. He must know, has too - this soulmate thing is a two way thing, but his silence is deafening. You just want to feel this space. Is it always this awkward?

“Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Forest Green,” you repeat, like a mantra. You hear him take in a sharp breath, and freeze. For some reason, you’d like to avoid upsetting him. He doesn’t seem like he’s taking to the information too well.

“I don’t have time for this damn bullshit… whatever quirk you’ve got to mimic this - cut it the fuck out,”

Hostile.

You pause, not sure how to feel. Half of you is offended, the other half is confused - had you done something to upset him? You can feel how he feels - but you don’t understand it. You sit with your mouth agape, like a fish out of water. Unsure of how to proceed, you scoff a little.

“Woah.. this isn’t a quirk thing. We’re.. soulmates? That’s already a thing,”

More silence. You’ve.. he doesn’t seem upset, but you can tell he’s not all that keen to the idea. It’s a bare minimum improvement that you find yourself valuing, without your consent. He breathes again, throat even more hoarse than before. His voice is angry but it doesn’t fit his responses, his feelings - so you don’t pay attention to his madness. Something is off.

“... I’m not supposed to have a soulmate. No fucking way I have a soulmate,” he grits. You step back, stumbling. You didn’t have any expectations.. but this wasn’t what you had been expecting at all. You feel uneasy, sick. It must be a shared feeling if the way he leans against a wall counts for anything.

A beat of silence passes before you open your mouth to speak.

“... I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to that,” you admit. He scoffs.

“Nothing you damn extra. Leave me the fuck alone,”

You don’t reply, too stunned. This was your soulmate? This.. asshole? Not that you were a peach entirely either, but this was supposedly the person that the universe had decided for you?

You shake your head. Maybe you’re just being rash? He could be a nice guy behind all the chaos. You try your best to hold onto that, that this was literally someone chosen for you before you gave up all hope. You sigh, cracking your neck.

“You can say whatever you want but.. we’re here, you know? It’s more productive to just go with it.. isn’t it?,”

“Go fuck yourself,”

“After meeting you, I’m not exactly over the fucking moon about it either. It is what is,”

“You’re not my fucking.. soulmate or whatever the fuck. Leave me alone,”

Your heart both aches with anger and sadness. You don’t know what to do. What does this shit-head know about you, anyway? You know he’s been through some shit, same as you - what makes him so entitled? You swallow the lump in your throat. It hurts. It pierces. Stupid soulmate bonds.

“Yeah? Alright. Fuck you too,”

You see him pace around for a longer before he disappears in a cloud of smoke. You didn’t even catch his name, and you’re not sure you wanted too. It must be morning, but at least you're away from him. It feels lonely, but it must just be you.

Your eyes flutter open but your heart is heavy with regret. You don’t know who it belongs to, but you’ve got class in an hour and not enough time to think about it. If he doesn’t want to meet you that’s fine.

It’s fine. Not like you wanted to meet your soulmate anyway.

__

You don’t have another meeting with your soulmate for months. Lately your dreams have little if anything to do with him or where he is, how he’s been. You have some of those split screen ones, where you know he’s there but neither of you acknowledge each other, even in spirit, like how you did before. When you wake up feeling angsty, you don’t know how to distinguish the feeling but you don’t try.

You wonder idly if he can feel your apathy, if he cares enough too. Maybe he also mistakes it for his own? It seems likely.

It’s a weekday where you’re getting ready for remedial classes at your school. First year advanced courses were no joke, and you find yourself regretting your choice to participate in them.

Still you get dressed anyway, put your uniform on and brush your teeth - wash your face with your eyes half open and look presentable. No one's home in the morning, the house is empty of any life but you. Food becomes a last minute priority, so you make an egg sandwich with cheese and eat it on the way to the train station.

You stare down at your feet as you step outside, music drowning out the noise of your surroundings aptly. The walk to the station is long and the ride is longer, but the streets are packed edge to edge. Musutafu is busy this time of year - the U.A. Sports Festival is taking place today and everything seems to reflect that. You barely manage to squeeze past all the strangers on the subway - clearly on their way to see it.

When you get to school, you're greeted by a mostly empty classroom with a teacher. These classes were straightforward as always, do the work you need to correct, have it approved and leave. It repeats until your finished with all the assignments and you get to be done. You give a respectful nod to your teacher before grabbing your work from your bag.

It goes on and on - occasionally, you hear an excited gasp and quiet chatter from classmates. It’s about the festival, the happenings - but you’re too caught up in completing your work that day and trying to get the fuck out of their as soon as possible.

Shit like that didn’t matter to you, anyways. It’s just a festival.

You leave around the same time the festival seems to have ended, the streets flooded with people - you miss the first station and wander towards an electronics store a block away from your highschool.

It’s the winners on TV. A guy with split hair - Shouto Todoroki, Endeavors son. A guy with a bird head, and a blonde with red eyes - muzzled to the pole.

When you see them, your heart stops. You can feel anger, an unfamiliar rage and humiliation building in your chest. It feels the word has stopped as you watch from afar, through screens. Your soulmate seems upset about something, but you wouldn’t know what.

And that blonde on TV, you wonder if you know him from somewhere.

MEETING 2:

Red.Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red.

You feel him before you even know what’s happening - and it catches you completely off-guard. You haven’t had a proper soulmate dream in two years. Smoke clouds your lungs, the taste of sugar burning your tongue as you cough yourself into awareness. This time, you’re not in a room but it’s a campground. In the middle of the space is a bonfire, burning warmly. This one feels more vivid, more real.

But you know it’s not, your body feel unusually light and your hands can’t hold anything for too long. You know it’s a dream, but you sit in the chair anyway. It feels like you're floating. You feel oddly warm. Dread builds in the pit of your stomach. Even though it’s been so long since you’ve spoken to your soulmate - you can’t forget the terrible first encounter. It sticks to the roof of your mouth - a bitter memory that fills you with unexplainable, irrational resentment.

But it’s not like you hadn’t been seeing him, to an extent. You’ve seen all his memories in bits and pieces - all of them tragic and painful. This time, you see people but they come in the form of small scraps. Spiky Red. Electricity. Tape. Pink with Horns. Music. Green. So much green and red - like Christmas, you’ve called it. You’ve seen disappearances, fear, anguish - so much anguish.

In the weeks after All Might’s fall, you were in so much pain - you couldn’t stop crying for days. It’s been enough time to know what feelings were yours and which were his - and these ones felt so much like him. It went on for nearly a year - you’d almost got accustomed to it. If tears showed up to blot the ink of your lecture notes, you didn’t think twice about it. You tried to keep yourself calm, steady - in hopes you could lend your soothing to him. Even if he hated your guts, you could barely believe so much sadness could exist in one person. You didn’t know what happened but whatever it was - it must’ve been terrible. At the very least, you felt sympathy.

Sympathy was enough to get by for a long time. A neutral, level-headed sympathy that helped soothe some of your own hurt.

All that said, you were hardly expecting to see him again - especially not this soon. You don’t remember the last time you thought about him in anything other than passing - actively. It’s one thing to know what's happening - you’ve felt him passively everyday for damn near two years.

But it’s another thing to see him in front of you, force yourself to acknowledge him as your soulmate even if he insists on not doing the same.

You squirm in your chair, noticing that you’re wearing PJ’s instead of clothes. Just a hoodie and sweats, none of which fit you quite right. You pull your sleeves over your hands, fiddling with the stray strand of thread loose.

“What the fuck is this shit?,”

Your stomach drops. Unsure of what to say, you opt to say nothing at all. Just let him be, sit quietly in your dreams and mind your business. Maybe he’ll wake up soon and it’ll all be over.

You can’t see him from the corner of your vision but you can hear him shuffle. The way he touches things, noticing how they make noise but don’t feel quite right in his hands. How it feels real but doesn’t, how it is real and isn’t. Surely, he’s noticed you by now. The lingering silence makes you squirm.

“...It’s you,”

You flinch, lifting your head up slightly to meet his gaze. His expression is unreadable, but it’s different from before. In a fleeting moment, something occurs to you.

You can see him. What he looks like. Blonde with red eyes, and a sharp chin and thin waist. You know it must mean you’ve seen him before - perhaps you’d even seen each other, but for your life you can’t remember where you’ve seen his face. It’s right there, on the edge of your mind, but you’re stumped.

“Hello?,”

“Oh,” your reply comes short, strained. Your eyes flutter as you press your lips into a flat line. “Uh, hi,”

The blonde sits in the chair, slumping down. His eyes go towards the flickering flames without another word and you decide it’s best not to engage. It stays like that for a while, a beat of silence - not awkward but not comfortable, passing by without another thought. It all feels real, present - not like normal dreams. This must be the special kind of soulmate thing you find yourself feeling resentful towards.

His eyes are heavy. Relief is overwhelming him, with an iron grip and he’s worried you can feel it. If you can, you don’t say a word.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,”  he admits.

The words sound tender passing through his mouth, unmistakably so - but you don’t get your hopes up. Instead, you give him a placating laugh, leaning forward towards the fire and mirroring him.

“I didn’t think so either,”

When it falls silent, it feels comfortable. It’s not like either of you have anything to say to each other right now, with no manual on how this was supposed to go. If he even wanted to go there.

“I can.. see you,” you start. He squints.

“You couldn’t before?,”

This takes you by surprise. You shake your head.

“No..Could you? See me, I mean?,”

Bakugo feels heat rise to his skin. Oh. Huh.

“Yeah,” he replies, a sharp inhale leaving his lungs “I can see you,”

There’s something tense in the air. It’s a strange sensation - to know the deepest and most intimate parts of someone without even knowing their name proper, or where they went to school, or what they normally eat for breakfast. All that connects you are these mutual feelings, shared grief that holds you two to the title of soulmates. This odd bond.

“..d’ya still think I’m a quirk wielding villain?,” you laugh, or try too - you’re doing your best to cut the tension. He can feel your hurt all the way from your sit, so deep in his gut - it’s been haunting him for years. How many nights of sleep he’s lost knowing there are soft and helpless tears coming from these suppressed feelings. He doesn’t know how to say sorry, so he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. He’s changed a lot in two years - but not enough to be good at this.

“No, I don’t,”

“Oh,”

He smiles, just a little. It’s gentle, casts shadow on his face from the light of the fire. It’s warm, everything feels warm and better and invigorating. When you look at him and his uneasy expression - you know he feels it too.

“By the way, uhm - what’s your name? Ka.. something? Right?,”

His eyes shoot up in surprise. He nods a little.

“Katsuki Bakugo,” he replies, expectantly. You seem surprised that he wants to know yours.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” comes your reply.

“Nice to meet you,” says him, Bakugo - your soulmate.

“Nice to meet you too,”

__

Getting to know Bakugo is unusually easy. You get the feeling it wouldn’t be, in the case that you were anything but soulmates - but Bakugo has never known being this intimate with someone other than you. Despite himself, how much he hates himself - you never seem too. Even though you feel and see all the ugliest parts of him - have since he was small enough to still be innocent, you always treat him the same.

Your conversations are short, and shallow. Regardless, he’s not used to talking so much about himself. But you’re always curious, so much so Bakugo doesn’t have the heart to see your countless questions go unanswered.

You keep a little notebook of all of your encounters. You remember them by heart but write them down too, just in case you miss something. You ask about his friends - Spiky Red and Soft Green, referring to them that way even after you’ve known their names. You ask about his work - the life of a dangerous hero, and if he ever gets nervous flying through the air.

Admittedly, he’s mean to you. He teases you so frequently, he’s lost count of all the times you’ve huffed and puffed at his sarcastic remarks. Still, you never turn away from him. You stand with your foot down and your arms crossed over your chest - insistent on making him feel flustered too. And it works, somehow - because you know all too much about Bakugou and always gets him right where he’s most conscious about. You don’t have to tease him about his feelings since you know them like the palms of your hand.

But these shallow conversations always mean a little more to him that he knows how to verbalize, and half the time he doesn’t need to do that at all. You’ve learned the masterful of working around him quietly, making all the parts of that feel too big to love - something small and fragile. Somehow, you’ve made being with him, even as friends - feel like less of an impossible feat but a dream.

Katsuki Bakugo has been in love with you since he was 6 years old. There must be some feelings we cannot share with our soulmates, because he has no idea if you feel it or not. He just knows he does, somewhere deep in the cavern of his heart, he loves you.

You never cross the barrier of romance with him, though. A paralyzing fear seems to settle in your bones when you breach too close to love and intimacy - and Bakugo understands those feelings, even if he doesn’t know exactly why they’re there. It’s not something you’ve decided to tell him yet, but he feels it in the same way he feels your loneliness. You may be kind but you’re more guarded than he is, and not fearless but reckless.

But he still finds himself aching to love and be loved by you, no matter how much he hates it. The yearning still manages to swallow him, even late into the night.

MEETING 3:

It’s been a while since your last meeting with Bakugo but not long. You were 21 now, but your dream visits were frequent. When you weren't speaking or seeing him through dreams - you were watching him on TV. You’d been yet to meet with him in real life but to you, that was okay. Seeing him like this had been more than enough.

Today was different. Normally, that bonfire was always a back-drop to these little encounters but it was a field today - a filed with rolling hills and hundreds of flowers and tall grass that made you feel itchy. The sun was permanently stuck right before it set but it was so warm everywhere. When you get there, there’s a blanket on the top of one of the hills. You sit on it cautiously and watch the wind pass. Everything is tinged orange, and red - you know he’s there with you before he appears.

When he does, he seems different. You glance over at him as he stumbles towards you in a stupor, and when he does finally sit - you get a whiff of alcohol coming from his neck and mouth. It’s strong enough to make a little dizzy. Blinking owlishly, he sits crisscross besides you, staring a little at the surroundings.

“..the fuck?,” he slurs. You can’t help but break out into a laugh. He nearly falls over, body swaying so you bring his head down to your shoulder wordlessly, a furious heat running all over your skin. Even though you can’t feel him, the gesture makes you feel something in your belly.

“Why’re you so drunk?,”

“Birthday,” he mumbles. Your eyes widen in surprise. Bakugo is seemingly unfazed, eyes drooping with tiredness. He’s completely inebriated.

You feel yourself grow tender. You’d have to wake up and remember the days date. Despite all the times you’ve met, you had no clue about his birthday or how he celebrated. You feel your heart ache at the idea you’ve spent the latter half of it together, in your own way.

“Happy Birthday, Bakugo.”

“Bakugo this, Bakugo that,” he growls, a little incoherent “We’re supposed to be fucking soulmates and you still call me by that.. damn name.”

He hiccups a little as you sit there stunned. You blink.

“.. You think of us as soulmates?,”

“Are you some kind of moron?,”

You scowl, flicking his forehead with your thumb and forefinger. He makes a noise of indignance.

“Well, how would I know? When we first met, you didn’t seem enthused about it,”

Bakugo sighs tiredly.

“I was 15 and an asshole - clearly I don’t fuckin’ feel that anymore,”

You seem surprised again.

“..You don’t?,”

Instead of swearing at you, he closes his eyes and gets closer to you. The liquor runs through his system like liquid courage and he nods a little.

“Not at all,”

“What do you..”

“What do you think I mean?,” he barks a laugh. You feel your pulse under your skin, drumming against your chest like a hammer. You can’t even breathe.

You’ve had feelings for Bakugo from the second proper meeting you’d had with him. It was clear as a day that he was your soulmate for good reason, that inexplicable draw that kept your heart from ever belonging to anyone else. You tried to - tried to go on dates and see other opportunities through but he was always so one of a kind.

Yet, you’d given up all hope that it would mean anything to harbor these feelings, convinced that Bakugo simply wasn’t interested in you In doing any of this. You didn’t want to force him into something he didn’t want - so you kept your distance with hope that he’d still be in your life. It was enough, or you’d wanted it to be.

It’d be a lie to say that you hadn’t started thinking about it more and more as the days pass. What it would be like to see him, touch him and love him and be with him for real - these passive daydreams gone vivid. If he could see your dreams, he must know about them. But you didn’t know how to approach it - how to approach love at all.

That’s the thing with soulmates. You’re told that you’ll just have the answers, destiny will do the hard work but that’s far from true. Because even now, with Bakugo leaning  on your shoulder with this confession lingering in the air - you don’t know what to do.

“Stop being so nervous,” he mumbles. You stumble a little over yourself.

“Sorry,”

He chuckles.

“You really need me to say it, huh?,” he sighs. He picks himself. If he’s drunk and reckless, then fuck it - he’s gonna take it all the way. He drops his head onto your lap with a tired sigh.

“I think you’re my soulmate, you fuckin’ idiot,” he admits.

And it’s hard to say, because feelings don’t come easy for Bakugo Katsuki - but it’s the least he can do. All Bakugo Katsuki has ever known is to be lonely. It’s a loneliness that he’d forced on himself. Bottling up all the anger and sadness and swallowing it. It’s long since sunk it’s claws into him. That overwhelming, all consuming ugly feeling that lingers underneath that superiority complex.

That no one would ever, could ever love the ugliness that lingers in him. That no one who knew him for what he truly is, could care for him. Deku was the first of many disbeliefs and not much had changed.

Except for when it did. Except for when he met you - in a dream, and you were real and beautiful even at 15. That the universe hadn’t been playing some sick joke on him when he kept seeing you in his dreams, so soothing to his teenage loneliness. You were real and that was so fucking scary.

But you loved him anyway. Looked out for him when he was at his lowest - the soothing beat of your heart  in the days after All Mights end . When he cried himself into sleep and dreamed of you. God, how he dreamed of you. Not especially romantic dreams, but dreams of how you made breakfast. How you watched cartoons on Sunday and read manga in your classes instead of the assigned work. How you fell asleep on the train station and always ate icecream after big tests. How you were especially mundane and how he got to be apart of that everyday routine.

After all, you see dreams of each other, but Bakugo has no clue what your dreams of him look like. His have always looked like you though.

When he was worthless and empty and unable to give you anything meaningful, to apologize or put his pride away - you had loved him anyway. Felt for him with clumsy hands and held on, not letting go. Even when he was begging for you to leave him alone, in fear of this all being nothing more than a cruel dream - you held on tightly to him. With your silly notebook questions and dumb names.

Bakugo Katsuki has never known what it means to love someone who isn’t you. Even if you found someone else and there was someone better than you for him, he would grit his teeth and bear it. He wonders if he’ll ever believe he deserves you. He wants to believe you’re his soulmate - to believe you wont ever leave. To believe that he did something right enough that the universe could give him someone like you.

And he wishes he could say all this, but he can’t - he just closes his eyes and hopes you can feel it.

“You’re so mean,”

“Isn’t that why you like me?,” he grins.

And you can feel his sincerity. He should feels yours too.

“I love you, actually,”

He gasps, a sharp breath that stabs his lungs. He feels sober from the confession.

His voice is gravelly when he speaks.

“Yeah, shit - me too,”

__

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest. The address is correct, it has to be with the way this place looks. Only a hero could live here, with the floors that lead up to skies. He lives on 3rd floor, so you swallow your fear. You give yourself a thumbs up in the glass window pane of the building before entering through the doors.

When you get there, a box sits. You press the button next to his place, bouncing on the balls of your feet until you answer.

“Hello?,”

His voice feels different in real life. You  cough.

“Uh, hi,” you greet awkwardly “I’m here,”

“Oh,” he says. You hear something buzz and then him again. “Come on up,”

And you do. The elevator ride feels like it stretches mild, classic piano echoing against the empty walls. You feel yourself feel sick but you’re not sure it’s from the movement. All you can do is fidget and wait.

When the doors open, you peak your head out into the hallway. He’s the first one on the left, just as promised. You can see a welcome mat - forest green, and something in you knows that it’s the right one.

You step up and knock, three times precisely. Your heart is all the way in your ears and everything in you is filled with unease and excitement.

When the door swings open, the world stops. You gape like a fish out of water in disbelief. He’s tall and big like he promised he’d be, but you’re unprepared. His chin is scruffy, eyes full of sleep. Strong chest and arms that seem to crowd your vision, you don’t know what do.

His expression is full to the brim with feelings you’ve never seen. He steps aside with his head ducked down.

“Come in,”

“Ah.. right,”

You take your shoes off and place them in the slippers meant for you - they fit you just right, and it can’t be a coincidence. Your heart swells up a little as you take your coat off, hanging it on the rack. You can feel his eyes as they linger on your silhouette.

“So -,”

Before you can get a word out, you feel strong arms wrapped around your waist. His scruff brushes against the skin of your neck as he holds you tightly too him. The warmth of his breath lingers on your neck - and he hiccups, a sob stored in his rib cages let out with a howl. The tears blur your vision too. You can feel his drip onto your shoulder as you snivel into his neck. Your legs feel weak, but he holds you up at the door - the only thing keeping you standing.

You cling around him tightly, your nails digging into the meat of his shoulders. It’s him, your soulmate, Katsuki Bakugo. He’s real and holding you - and he smells like leather and sugar and a fireplace. He’s warm and strong and overwhelming and your crying into his shoulder with so much feeling you don’t know what to do. You hit him weakly, unsure of what do with yourself and he laughs.

“Damn you, shitty woman - makin’ me fucking cry,” but his voice is strained. It’s like something connected, how you feel each other so intimately in that moment. Not only because you’re soulmates, but because you love each other so deeply. Your heart feels heavy.

When you pull away, you manage to give him a warbly smile.

Your hands cradle his face - so handsome and wonderful. You lean forward, emboldened, and peck him. He melts into your touch like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life. It makes you grin.

Maybe you don’t realize that he had.

He’d been waiting for you all this time.

[carrotmakar]

baby

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: pure smut

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Harry wants a baby, and you’re more than happy to help him make one.

Warning(s): slight mention of oral (m receiving), boot humping, slapping (face, thigh, pussy), degradation, breeding kink, choking, orgasm denial, overstimulation,

A/N: listen, i know the title is :/ but who cares? not me! anyway yeah here’s a piece that’s literally just smut because i was talking to some of my friends about harry having a breeding kink and here we are :))

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*

“Fuck, just like that, puppy,” Harry pants as you slide your tongue along the vein that runs from the base of his cock all the way to the angry red tip. 

You look up at him through your lashes, blinking slowly as you take the head of his prick into your mouth. He hisses at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth enclosing around him, and the sound makes your thighs clench together. He growls when he catches sight of the movement. He grabs ahold of your hair, tugging you back as he forces your legs open with the toe of his boot. The stiff leather grazes against your clit, causing you to whine high in your throat. 

He chuckles darkly, tutting lightly as he tightens his grip on your hair. “You’re so fucking needy, puppy.” His words cause your cheeks to burn, but there’s something about the embarrassment that makes your arousal soak your panties even more than it was before. “You’re so desperate for anything that I give you that my boot touching your cunt gets you all fucked out.” He releases his grip on your hair to cup your face, leaning down to smear his lips against yours for a split second before taking your bottom lip between his teeth and tugging. He stays close to your face, close enough that you’re breathing his air. “You’re so greedy for it, puppy, so go ahead and grind your pretty little pussy against my boot until you cum, alright?” You nod eagerly, and he smirks. “Then go ahead, but just know whatever mess you make, you’ll be cleaning up.” 

He pulls away and takes a seat on the bed, leaning back on his hands as he waits for you to begin. You crawl towards him, the soft carpet rubbing against your hands and knees as you make your way over to him. He watches you with hungry eyes and a wolfish grin, taking in every movement that you make. Once you’re finally close enough to him, he cups your cheek once again as you mount his boot. Letting the leather press down on your clit, you begin to grind against him as you look up at him through your lashes. His mouth is slightly ajar, heavy breaths escaping his lips as he watches you get yourself off. 

A dark smirk comes across his face as you breathe out moans of his name, the pleasure from rubbing yourself against him getting the best of you. “You’re so fucking easy for me, pet. Just a little whore that would do anything I asked of you, yeah?” He chuckles demeaningly when you whine high in your throat, nodding vehemently in agreement. “Pathetic little thing, I could tell you to bring yourself right to the edge while grinding on my boot over and over again and you’d do it.” You open your mouth to speak, but he stops you quickly by leaning forward and sticking his thumb in your mouth. He pushes down on your tongue as he slides the digit further into your mouth. You feel yourself gag lightly, but you can’t pretend that you don’t enjoy the absolute power he has over you at this very moment. “Should I make you do that, puppy?”

“No!” you all but beg around his finger, the word coming out a garbled mess. He laughs, mocking the sound. The embarrassment that courses through your veins sends flames licking up your spine, the feeling causing you to grind down harder on his boot, your arousal slicking your path even through your panties. 

He tuts, shaking his head. “What happened to that ‘whatever you want, daddy!’ attitude that you had when I walked through the door a few hours ago?” he pouts mockingly as he removes his thumb from your mouth, dragging the slick digit down over your lip and letting the skin catch there. He groans lowly as he notices your thrusts begin to falter, your steady pace becoming messy as he clutches your jaw in his hand, squishing your cheeks together so that your mouth is puckered open just the slightest bit. He lets his arms roam your face for a moment before puckering his lips and letting a trail of his spit fall from his mouth into your awaiting one.

“Swallow for me,” he commands, but the grip he has on your face makes it hard to do so. He watches you struggle for a few moments before retracting his hand and letting it come back down onto your cheek. The smack isn’t hard enough to hurt, or to even leave a lasting mark, but the impact and the complete submission that it pushes you into makes your back arch as pure pleasure washes through your body. You swallow the spit in your mouth before gasping for air as your entire body is overtaken in a white hot ecstasy that only Harry can bring you to. 

“So fuckin’ pathetic for me,” he drawls. “Cumming all over my shoe because I smacked you around a bit. What a fucking whore,” he spits, pure dominance radiating through his tone. When you look up at him, he’s got his hand around the base of his cock, and the sight alone makes you whine. He drags his hand up to the tip, collecting the pre cum there and dragging it back down to the base in one languid stroke. He continues, repeating the actions as he looks down at you. “Now clean me up, puppy. Want you to lick up your mess. You wouldn’t want my boot to be dirty, would you?” His voice has a teasing lilt to it, and it makes you just that much hotter as you look up at him. You shake your head quickly before backing up and leaning down until you’re face to face with the toe of his black leather boot. You press the flat of your tongue against the material, licking it clean. You can taste smoky leather mixed with your arousal and the taste makes you groan as your eyes roll back into your head. 

After a few minutes, you pull away as you look at your work. Finding it satisfactory, you lean back on your heels as you wait for his approval. He just removes his hand from his cock and curls his fingers in a ‘come hither’ movement. You automatically obey, scrambling to your feet and into his arms. He pulls you into his lap and he groans at the feeling of your slick folds rubbing against his aching cock. He captures your lips in a searing kiss that has you breathless in moments. 

When he pulls away to let the both of you catch your breaths, he flips you both over so that he’s on top. Running a hand up your forearms, he stops at the wrist, holding both of them together in front of you with just one of his large hands. He pins them above your head and you gasp at the sudden change. He grinds his hips down into yours, eliciting a wonton moan from your lips. 

“Do you want it, puppy?” he asks, grasping your hip with his free hand in order to hoist himself up into a sitting position. You nod eagerly, raising your hips from the bed. He brings the hand that was on you hip down onto your thigh, smacking the skin. The impact makes you jump, but the heat of the spank goes straight to your core. “You know better,” he spits, voice hard. “Use your fuckin’ words.”

You rush to comply, but when he releases your hands and slides that hand down to your throat, squeezing hard enough to restrict your air flow the slightest bit, it becomes hard to choke out the words. “P-please, want you to— want you to fuck me,” you gasp and he chuckles, loosening his grip on your throat but still leaving his hand around it, letting you know that he’s in charge, that you’re his. 

“You want me to fuck you, puppy? Want me to fuck you like the little whore that you are for me?” he asks, bringing his free hand down to stroke his cock as he waits for an answer. 

“Please, daddy. Want you to fuck me. I need you,” you whine and he groans. 

“How can I say no to my baby begging for my cock?” he asks, teasing slightly as he guides his cock into your weeping entrance. He groans, grip tightening on your throat as he buries himself to the hilt inside you. Your wetness makes it easy for his length to fit inside of you, but the stretch still takes a moment to get used to. 

He falls onto his forearm, propping himself up with the one arm while the other one tugs you closer by your throat. He dips his head, bringing his lips to the shell of your ear. “Haven’t even done anything besides slide in and you’re already gone for me,” he teases, nipping at your ear and making you clench around him. “Can’t wait to see how you are when I cum inside you, puppy. Do you want that? Hmm? Want me to fill you up until you’re dripping with me and there’s no way you don’t make me a daddy?” 

You moan unabashedly at the thought, nodding as you claw at his back. “Please, fill me up daddy, wanna be full of you.” 

He groans, dropping his head to the mattress beside you as he begins bucking his hips into yours. You wrap your legs around his waist to get him impossibly closer, and he raises from his spot to look at you. Squeezing your throat, he pistons his hips, fucking into you with no mercy. “You’re gonna look so fucking pretty dripping with my cum, puppy. And when I’m done I’ll fuck it into you with my fingers until I’m ready to fill you up again.” You clench around him, crying out at the pleasure that courses through your veins at his words. “Yeah, you like that don’t you?” He brings his hand down to your puffy clit, circling the nub repeatedly and applying just the slightest bit of pressure. The combination of that, his thrusts, and his grip that’s progressively getting harsher on your throat has you seeing stars. “My little fuckin’ slut.” 

“I’m gonna, gonna—“

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” he spits, removing his hand from your clit just to bring it back down harshly, smacking the bundle of nerves. You cry out at the sensation and he smirks when you clench around him. He brings his hand down once more, repeating his action and you whine high in your throat. Looking down at your swollen clit, he spits on the nerves and continues rubbing against the bundle with the pads of his fingers. “You’ll cum when I tell you to, if I tell you to. After all, you have acted like a whore all night. Do you think pathetic little whores get to cum?” 

You want to say yes, because you want to cum more than anything at the moment, but you know the answer. He knows that, too. So if you look at him and say yes, you really won’t get any release tonight. 

“No, daddy,” you whine, grinding your hips down to feel him deeper. 

“Then I guess you’re not cumming.” He shrugs, thrusting into you harder and applying more pressure to your clit. “And if you do,” he warns, “I’ll make you keep cumming until you’re begging me to stop.”

As he continues his ministrations on your clit, you decide that maybe him making you cum over and over again isn’t that bad of an option, so without a second thought, you let go. Your back arches as you cry out his name, repeating the syllables until they’re nothing but incoherent mumbles. Your thighs shake around him and his hand tightens on your neck, cutting off your air supply just the slightest bit. He applies more pressure to your clit, rubbing harshly as you ride out your orgasm. 

He doesn’t let up when you’re finished, he does exactly what he told you he would do. He continues his actions, grunting out a quick “Keep cumming, puppy. You fucking wanted it so here you go.” and rubbing quick circles. You continue to convulse around him, cumming over and over again as he thrusts into you. 

“Since you don’t know how to fucking listen, I don’t know if you deserve my cum, puppy. What a shame, I wanted to fill you up so bad.” 

You immediately begin to babble on, almost incoherently, “No, no, please! Want— want you to cum inside me. Please, daddy. I’m sorry I didn’t listen, it won’t happen again,” you beg as his hips begin to falter in pace. 

You shudder around him, clenching his cock with your walls as he brings you to get another orgasm as he buries himself to the hilt and let’s go. The feeling of his warm spurts of cum filling you up make your eyes roll back in your head. Grasping onto any part of his body you can reach, you pull him closer to you as he calms down from his high. 

Before you can say anything, he slowly pulls from you and slinks down your body. His eyes are wide as he watches his cum drop from your hole, and before you know it, he’s rubbing his fingers through the mixture of your releases with his fingers and fucking it back into you. Your breath hitches and he chuckles, letting his head come to rest on your thigh as he continues his harsh thrusts. “Told you I’d fuck it back into you until I was ready to go again. Wanna make you a mommy.”

Your back arches at his words paired with his fingers curling up to graze against that spongy spot inside of you that has your legs shaking and your eyes rolling into the back of your head. He continues his ministrations as you clench around him, shaking in pleasure and right on the edge of another orgasm before he pulls away completely. 

You whine, but the sound gets caught in your throat as he runs the head of his cock over your folds and smirks at you. “Ready for me to fill you up again?”

[caravelstan]

all too well | j.m. kiszka

authors note: merry late christmas! i’ve been working on this ever since red (taylor’s version) dropped and i’m super proud of it (for the most part). this is the longest piece of writing i’ve wrote in a long time. i’m sorry for any errors, i don’t have an editor, but i really do hope you enjoy :( i’m thinking of doing songs from red (taylor’s version) for the rest of the band but have yet to decide on that. anyways! enjoy and always remember if you have any requests my ask is always open and feedback is greatly appreciated! love u <3

pairing: josh kiszka x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of underage drinking, mentions of sexual acts (alluding to sleeping together, literally just a mention), angst (sorry lol)

word count: 13.9k

summary: fragments of the rise and fall of josh and reader’s relationship throughout high school, and the time they meet again. 

We're singing in the car, getting lost upstate

Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place

Her eyes fluttered shut and she leaned back against the headrest, letting the cool air wash over her skin. It was a particularly warm day for Autumn in Michigan, and when Josh had asked her to go out on a drive she couldn't say no to her best friend. Her eyes open again moments later as she watches the trees pass by them and she lets her hand stray out the window, the air catching between her fingers.

Their drives never consisted of an actual destination, whoever was behind the wheel that day had free reign on where they were going. Sometimes it’d lead them nowhere and other times it’d take them to the most beautiful spots Frankmuth had to offer.

Her eyes drift towards Josh and she has to stop herself from smiling, watching as he sings along to If Not for You by George Harrison. He sneaks a glance at her, still singing and holds her gaze for a moment. Her breath hitches in her throat and she stills, even after Josh returns to watching the road.

Whether it be the moment or what, she finds herself reaching out to twirl one of her fingers around one of his curls, mesmerized. She rests her hand on the back of his neck and he comes to a stop, looking over at her. His eyes hold a certain softness, much too soft for it to be friendly - though, she supposes their relationship had always teetered between friends to something more. Whatever it was it had her heart racing and warmth spreading across her chest.

"What?" Josh asks, absentmindedly leaning into her touch.

"You're beautiful." She says softly.

"Shut up." He rolls his eyes playfully before focusing back on the road, continuing on their drive.

“You know I’m right!”

His glances over at her again and she doesn’t miss the way his gaze flickers down her face before finding her eyes once again, lips twitching into a small smile. She blushes under his gaze but doesn’t dare look away. She couldn’t even if she wanted to - Josh was mesmerizing.

“Whatever you say, mama.”

She doesn’t respond, instead lets her fingers toy with the few stray curls at the base of his neck, lips tugging into a wide smile. She loved moments like this, when it was just her and Josh. Of course she loved spending time with the rest of the Kiszka’s, but her time with Josh was always special to her.

He was special to her. Though, she thinks she’ll keep that to herself.

“If not for you, my sky would fall. Rain would gather, too,” Josh softly sings, sneaking another glance at her. “Without your love I’d be nowhere at all. I’d be lost, if not for you.”

Their eyes meet and for a split second, they’re the only two people in the world.

...

'Cause there we are again on that little town street

You almost ran the red 'cause you were lookin' over at me

Her head spun, even after shutting her eyes, and leaned her head against the window. She had drank a bit too much tonight. Even though she was sobering up, especially with the cold December air pressing into her skin like ice, she knew she was going to be paying for it in the morning. She mentally cursed Jake Kiszka and the many shots he had given her that night.

She groans.

"Remind me to never drink again." She says, a hint of a whine in her voice. Josh laughs from beside her, hands gripping the steering wheel.

"I'm surprised you even agreed to come tonight," He says gently. "You barely come to parties with us."

She gives a tiny shrug, squeezing her eyes shut as another dizzy spell comes. "It's our senior year. I wanted to make memories with you and Jake that weren't just at our houses."

"We have plenty of memories that aren't just at our houses."

"I know, but this is different!" She huffs, finally opening her eyes. She tries to glance at Josh without moving too much, eyes straining. "I don't wanna be remembered as the lame friend who didn't do anything cool with you guys. Plus, it sounded like it'd be fun. At the time."

Josh snorts. "At the time?"

"Yes. I am very much regretting it now." She presses her head back against the cool glass, eyes fluttering shut.

"By the way, I hope you know we don't think you're lame - you never were. You just don't like parties," He shrugs, "and that's okay. We still love you."

The dizzy spell had ended and her head no longer spun, though the reminisce of a headache lingered. She barely moves when she feels Josh place a free hand on her leg, gently squeezing her knee. She's grateful that he feels that way - and hopes Jake feels the same too, even though she hates him right now - but her head is pounding too much at the moment to even come up with a proper reply.

"Can I please stay with you tonight? I really don't want to try and sneak past mom."

"Of course, mama. Anything you want." His voice was gentle again and he continued to drive, keeping his hand on her knee.

They rode in silence after that, the only sound was the radio playing quietly in the background - some song that she knew Josh would hate. She feels his thumb brush against the fabric of her jeans and she smiles to herself.

"I’m so lucky to have you."

She still regrets drinking so much and will be giving Jake a mouthful whenever he comes home in the morning, but she's also grateful for Josh at this very moment. She knew that no matter what, the boy would be there to take care of her.

She feels the car come to a stop and she keeps herself leaned against the window. It feels like they sit there for a while, and she thinks they do, and she opens her eyes to peek over at the boy. He's removed his hands from her leg, both of them now gripping the steering wheel again but his eyes are on her. She can barely see it, with how dark it was inside the car, but she can make out the faint flush to his cheeks. She remembers him having a few beers that night, but not enough that would actually make him drunk. She knows Josh isn't dumb enough to drive under the influence, especially with her in the car.

She twists her body to where her back is leaning against the door, eyes never leaving his, "Take a picture, it'll last longer."

Josh laughs, almost surprised. He looks off to the side and clenches his jaw. "Maybe I will."

Her headache has subsided for the most part, maybe due to the car no longer moving, but that's the last thing on her mind right now. She looks around and notices they're still stopped at the same stop sign, the only car on the road currently. Which would be creepy, she thinks, if she hadn't known her surroundings. One more stop sign and they'd be turning on Josh's road.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

"I don't think you want to know what I'm thinking."

Her brows furrow. "I was just saying it to say it, but now I'm curious. What are you thinking?"

Josh glances at her and the look in his eyes causes her breath to hitch. There was so much inside of them. The same softness he always gave her, but mixed with want, and maybe even a bit of guilt. Her heart twists beneath her chest as she watches him put the car in park, unbuckle himself from his seat, and leans over the console towards her. She finds herself leaning towards him and he places a hand on her face, cupping her chin.

"I'm thinking that I really want to kiss you, and have wanted to since I was like 12." He breathes out a laugh. "Please tell me that I can."

All she can do is stare back at him, mouth agape. What the fuck? Did Josh just ask if he could kiss her? She would have never thought that would happen in a million years. Of course their relationship has always been just a little bit more than just friends, and maybe there was a part of her that always wished for him to kiss her, but she pushed it to the back of her mind. Wishful thinking, she thought.

He searches her eyes, waiting for some kind of response, and she knows he won't kiss her or pull away until she tells him so. Her eyes drop to his lips and she subconsciously licks at her own, gazing back up at him. His thumb brushes against her cheek and she leans into the touch before slowly nodding her head.

His mouth twitches into a small smile before he closes the distance between them, pressing his lips against her own softly. She doesn't move at first, scared that this was all a dream that she'll be waking up from soon, but that's all thrown away when she feels his lips move against hers. Her hands find their way to his face, cupping his cheeks. She’s never really thought too much on what it would be like to kiss Josh, never thinking she’d ever get the chance, and this goes far beyond her imagination. He pulls away all too soon and she whines when they part. Josh lets out a breathless laugh, resting his forehead against hers and letting his eyes fall shut.

"Why'd you stop?"

"I know if I didn't stop now, we wouldn't get home, and both of our ass's would be in trouble." He says, but presses another chaste kiss to her lips before pulling away fully. She leans back against the door and stares at him, bringing a hand up to brush at her lips.

Josh had kissed her.

She’s in a daze on the remainder of their drive and doesn’t come to until Josh is already out of the car and coming to her side, opening the door for her. She stares up at him for a moment and he smiles, reaching a hand out for her to grab. Her cheeks flush when she wraps her fingers around his and hauls herself out of the car, letting him guide her towards the house. They’re quiet as the navigate through the house, partly so they don’t wake Josh’s parents, Ronnie, or Sam, and partly because she’s not sure what to say. What is there to say?

They sneak into Josh’s room and he shuts the door behind him slowly. She stands in the middle of his room and gazes around, arms crossed over her chest.

“Here.” Josh finally speaks up and she glances over at him, seeing him holding one of his old school shirts and a pair of sleep shorts. She smiles sheepishly as she reaches out for it. “I’ll change in the bathroom, okay?”

She nods and watches him leave his room, shutting the door behind him. With a deep breath, she’s quick to change out of her clothes and into the ones Josh had given her and then crawls into his bed, curling up under the blankets. Her headache has returned, probably with new meaning. There’s a knock at the door and she shuts her eyes, feigning sleep. Call her childish but she’s scared to face Josh right now. She doesn’t know what to think, what to even making out of the situation. Her and Josh had kissed, and they both seemed to really fucking like it.

The bed dips behind her and she hears Josh shuffling with the covers, getting comfortable. He stills and lays there for a second and she thinks they’ll leave it - at least hopes that they will - but then he shifts again, probably onto his side, and she hears him sigh.

“I know you’re awake.” Josh says from behind her, voice barely above a whisper. “We need to talk.”

“I don’t think we need to do anything.” She says quietly, eyes still shut.

“Y/N.” 

She flips onto her back and opens her eyes, looking up at Josh. He’s looking down at her and she brings the covers up to her chin, trying to hide underneath them. His gaze softens and he reaches down to run his fingers through her hair and she can’t help but lean into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. 

“If we talk about it then it becomes real, and it still feels like a dream.” She whispers, opening her eyes to stare up at him. “And I really don’t want to wake up from it.”

“It’s not a dream,” He says softly. “This is very much real life.”

“Why did you kiss me?” She blurts out. Josh stills for a moment before carding his fingers through her hair again, shoulders going up in a small shrug.

“Because I wanted to.”

“That’s it?” She says flatly, lips pressing into a line. Not quite the answer she was expecting… or wanting for that matter.

There was a part of her wishing that maybe, just maybe, these stupid feelings she’s had pent up for this boy weren’t one-sided and that maybe, just maybe, he felt something more than just wanting to kiss her.

“Well,” He starts, looking off to the side, “and because I’ve also had this crush on you since we were like.. 12.”

Oh. Her cheeks flush with color as she curls in on the blanket wrapped around her. “Really?”

“Really.” He looks down at her again, his own cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re my favorite person. I feel.. safe when I’m with you. It feels right, like it makes sense. We make sense.”

“Okay, now I’m really hoping this isn’t a dream.”

Josh laughs at that, full and loud, and she smiles up at him. It’s such a beautiful sound. One of her favorites, she’d listen to it all day if she could. She reaches up for his hand that was messing with her hair, pulling it away from her and bringing it down to lay in between them.

“I promise it’s not a dream.”

“Good,” She hums quietly, watching her fingers trace random patterns into the palm of his hand.

“Does this mean that you, um,” Josh clears his throat and she looks up at him, arching her brow. His cheeks are flushed again and he averts his gaze, “does this mean that you like me too?”

She lays there for a moment, eyes moving back to their hands that lay between them before looking back up at Josh. She pushes herself up and closer to Josh, reaching out to place a hand on his cheek and brings his head down to hers, pressing their lips together in a kiss.

She pulls back a second later, but not too far, eyes locking on Josh’s as a smile spreads across her lips. “You've always been my favorite person.”

The smile Josh gives her fills her entire body with pure joy she can’t help but lean forward to connect their lips again. No words were spoken between the two - nothing was needed to be said at this point. Soft kisses and soft touches filled the rest of their night up until she pulled away to curl up against his chest, her eyelids becoming too heavy to even keep open. Josh’s arms wrapped around her body to pull her close, their legs tangling together. 

This isn’t the first time they’ve cuddled, let alone slept in the same bed together, but this is the first time it’s had different meaning. The last thought she has is Josh’s lips against hers, and she finally drifts off with a sleepy smile.

...

'Cause there we are again in the middle of the night

We're dancing 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light

It’s been two months since her and Josh made it official. Not much had really changed between them, but it was still the best two months of her life. Sneaking Josh in from the back door without her mother knowing and the late night kisses they shared in her bedroom, being able to hold his hand whenever she pleased, the secret kisses they shared in the back seat of his car, countless nights of sneaking in and out of the Kiszka’s house without anyone knowing... The essence of it all thrilled her.

No one knew about them yet. It had been Josh’s idea to keep it a secret for awhile, letting them get used to being a couple and to have it actually be theirs until his family found out. Don’t get her wrong, she loves the Kiszka’s, but she knows the second they find out all hell will break loose and they’ll never get a second alone ever again. 

For now, she gets to keep Josh for herself. And maybe that’s selfish, but she can’t think of anything else she wants more in this world.

“Can you get us some more beer?” Jake asks from his spot on the floor, tossing his head against the couch go stare up at her. She scrunches her face up.

“Why can’t you get it?”

“Because I don’t wanna get up. And you love me.”

“And what if I don’t wanna get up either? Also, I actually hate you.”

“Yeah, Y/N, can you get more beer?” Sam cuts in from the other end of the couch, already finishing off his third beer of the night.

She glares at him, “Again, why do I have to do it when you both of perfectly capable of getting your own? You weren’t even supposed to be drinking tonight, Samuel.”

Sam can only glare in response before turning his attention back to the movie.

“Because they’re men.” Ronnie says from her side, body shaking from her own giggles. She can’t help but laugh herself. “They can’t do anything by themselves.”

“Hey! I take offense to that.” Josh speaks up from the chair in the corner, glaring playfully at the two girls. Ronnie rolls her eyes.

“Good.”

“And,” Josh continues, “I’m capable of helping myself, thank you very much.” He stands up from his seat and stretches his arms out.

She watches as his shirt rides up just a bit, showing just a bit of skin and she has to bite down on her lip to stop the smile from growing. She flickers her gaze up and finds Josh already staring at her, a knowing smirk plastered on his face. She checks to make sure the others didn’t notice, and they didn’t, all too focused on the movie playing in front of them to even care about the current stare down going on between her and Josh. He walks over to where she’s seated and places his hand out for her to take, which she does gladly.

“Up you go, mama.” He says as he’s helping her up to her feet, hand lingering in hers for a second longer than needed. “We’ll be back.”

“Thought you were capable of helping yourself?” Ronnie teases, but she barely even gives them a glance.

“I’m just going to supervise,” She says over her shoulder while Josh leads her towards the stairs. “He’s still a poor, helpless man.”

Ronnie laughs loudly at that and she can’t help but grin before turning her focus back on Josh, her grin turning into a smirk.

"Now why am I actually coming with you, Joshua?" She teases once they’re out of ear shot, her hand finding his once again. Her fingers wrap around his and squeezes gently before lacing them together.

"Like you said, I'm a helpless man," He turns his head to shoot her a grin, "I need all the help I can get."

She throws her head back with laughter. He pushes the basement door open that leads them into the kitchen, hands untangling from hers to make his way across the kitchen.

"Grab the beers and I'll make some popcorn?"

"Sure."

She watches as Josh opens the cabinet above the microwave, reaching up to grab a packet of popcorn and her eyes drift down to where his shirt has started to ride up again. Clearing her throat she turns to the fridge and opens it, glancing inside to look for the beers Jake had snuck in here for the night. She pulled out the last four that were stuffed in the back, turning around to carefully place the bottles on the counter. She lets out a yelp instead and almost drops them when she finds Josh behind her, an amused grin on his lips.

"What the hell are you doing, Kiszka?" She bites out, holding the bottles to her chest. He laughs.

"The light from the refrigerator made you look really pretty and I wanted to tell you that," He starts, his grin only growing. "Then I decided scaring you would be better."

She moves around him to place the bottles on the counter before turning around to punch playfully at his arm, shooting him a glare. "You're an asshole."

"But you love me."

"Not sure where you got that from." She grumbles, turning to shut the refrigerator doors.

Josh's arms circle around her waist and he spins her around to face him instead. She looks up to find him beaming at her and her heart skips a beat at the sight. He maneuvers their arms around, having one hand rest against her hip and hers rest against his shoulder, while lacing their free hands together. 

“Dance with me.”

She stares at him quizzically. “There’s literally nothing playing.”

“You don’t know what’s going on inside this beautiful head of mine, baby.”

She stifles her laughter while Josh spins them around the kitchen, humming along to whatever song is playing in his head. After a few moments his hand drops from hers to wrap both arms around her waist and hers around his neck, both of them leaning together to press their foreheads against each other. His eyes lock on hers and for a split second, it feels like the first time again, and she can't help but lean in, pressing her lips against his in a gentle kiss.

"I love you," She mumbles when she pulls back, head resting against his shoulder as he sways them from side to side.

"And I love you." Josh hums, lips brushing against her forehead.

They pull apart a few moments later and both quietly go back to their prior tasks - her grabbing the remaining beers and shutting the fridge and Josh emptying the bag of popcorn into a bowl. He turns to look at her again, head tilting towards the basement door.

"Ready to go back?"

She nods in agreement, even though she’d much rather stay here and dance away with Josh, and the two of them make their way back down to the basement, finding Ronnie, Sam, and Jake still in their same spots.

"We come bearing gifts!" Josh sports a fake British accent that causes her to laugh before she's handing a beer to both Jake and Sam, squinting at the younger boy.

"This is your last one of the night."

"You're not my mom." Sam grumbles out as he snatches the bottle from her, glaring at her playfully.

"No, she's not but I'm your brother and I say you're cut off after that one, dude. You were only supposed to have one anyways." Jake says as he reaches for his own, nodding up at her in thanks, and misses Sam giving him the finger behind his back. "What took you guys so long? You were gone for like 10 minutes."

She can't stop her cheeks from flushing and turns to place the remaining two bottles down on the end table, shoulders going up in a nonchalant shrug. "Josh was being a goof and kept joking around. Lost track of time."

She climbs back onto the couch beside Ronnie, leaning her body back into hers and getting back into her previous (and very comfortable) position, and she feels Jake's eyes still on her. He doesn't say anything, just raises a brow before glancing over at Josh who's already back in his chair, popcorn placed in his lap and eyes on the screen. Jake gives her another look and she has to act as if she’s not freaking out on the inside, heart beating rapidly beneath her chest, and then he's looking back at the screen.

"Whatever." He doesn't sound convinced, but goes with it anyways, and for that she's thankful. 

Sneaking around is getting to be a lot harder than she thought it would.

Her eyes find their way back to Josh and he's already looking at her, and he winks before turning his head back towards the TV. She buries her face against Ronnie's shoulder to hide the growing flush to her cheeks and feels the girl shift underneath her, grunting quietly.

"What's your deal?"

"Tired." Her voice is muffled by the others shirt and she gives a yawn for dramatic effect, full on snuggling into Ronnie's side. "Could fall asleep right here, Ron. You're so comfortable."

"You're so weird." Ronnie mumbles, but there's a smile in her voice. 

She shifts underneath her again but this time lets her arms wrap around her, getting into a much comfortable position. From how comfortable she is and how at peace she feels in that moment, snuggled up on the couch and surrounded by her favorite people, she finds herself struggling to keep her eyes open and before she knows it, she's asleep - dreaming of her and Josh dancing around the kitchen, and their friends and family dancing right along with them.

...

And maybe we got lost in translation

Maybe I asked for too much

But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up

It all happened so quickly.

They were curled up on the couch, legs and arms intertwined together as a movie played softly in the background. Josh's parents had went to Detroit for the weekend with some friends which left the Kiszka children on their own for a few days. Jake ran off the second he could to hang out with his current girlfriend, Ronnie went to stay with a friend, and Sam went to Danny's. This left the perfect opportunity for the two of them to spend time together at Josh's house without having to sneak around.

It was a relief, like a weight was lifted off of her shoulders knowing she didn't have to look around before she kissed Josh. She could even cuddle up to him without getting odd stares from the others. It was amazing, and made her wish they'd just come out and tell everyone because she wants nothing more than to do this all the time.

Josh's fingers threaded through her hair as his eyes focused on the screen in front of him and she was so content, eyes fluttering shut every so often. She loved when Josh played with her hair, it was so relaxing and was one of the quickest ways to lull her to sleep.

So it was no surprise that neither of them heard the front door shut and the sound of Jake’s footsteps snapping them back to reality.

"Josh?"

The sound of his voice caused the two of them to jump, eyes widening in shock at the realization of their current position.

"Fuck."

Josh pulls away from her and scrambles down to the other end of the couch. Her heart drops and she can't help but feel like she's been punched in the gut, especially with how quick he pulled away from her - as if touching her had burned him. She glances at him but he refuses to even look at her, eyes trained on Jake finally entering the room. The air is tense almost immediately and she knows Jake can sense something is off, especially with the way he comes to a stop to stare at the two of them on the couch.

"Hey," Josh's voice is tight and he clears his throat before continuing, "What're you doing home?"

"I left my wallet." Jake squints, eyes roaming between her and Josh. "I texted you but I guess you were... preoccupied."

His tone was a bit too accusatory for her liking but she shrugged it off, telling herself that he doesn’t know. He can’t know… right?

She shrinks in her seat under Jake's gaze. It made her skin crawl and she refused to look him in the eyes. His head tilts before he's looking at Josh again, squinting harder.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. Must've missed it." Josh doesn't even sound like himself, even when he lets out a nervous chuckle.

Jake's brows quirk up looking anything but humored. He snorts out a breath before making his way towards the stairs, "Yeah, must have."

She watches as Jake bounds up the stairs to his room and moves her gaze back towards Josh who's still refusing to look at her, practically curled up against the arm rest. She's not understanding why Josh is acting like this, even after Jake ventured upstairs. It was weird - and nothing like him.

"What the fuck was that?" She whisper-shouts at him.

He barely even spares a glance her way. "Not now."

She pauses. "Why are you being so weird?"

"I'm not, I just," He sighs, running a hand over his face. "I just freaked out. He almost caught us."

She pauses again, a frown spreading across her lips. "You're acting like Jake finding out is the worst thing that could possibly happen, Josh."

"It is!" His voice raises and they both still, the implications of his words hitting almost immediately. "I mean, it's not - fuck - it's not, but I don't want him finding out this way."

Her frown only deepens. “This way? You don’t want him finding out by us acting like a couple? That makes no sense.”

Josh opens his mouth to respond but slams it shut when he hears Jake coming back down, staring off towards the staircase. He stops at the last step and looks over at them, the same hardening gaze remaining on his features. She swallows and averts her gaze from him, staring at the TV. She'd completely forgotten a movie had been playing. Silence overlaps them as she feels Jake's eyes on her again and with the way her heart is pounding beneath her chest she's sure he hears it.

"Question," Jake speaks up finally, moving his eyes towards Josh.

"What's up?"

"What were you guys doing before I walked in?"

Her eyes widen and she doesn't dare look over at Josh, even though her body is screaming at her to do so. A beat passes them and Josh clears his throat, tilting his head at his brother.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right," Jake says, stretching out the word and brows furrowing. "There's definitely something you're not telling me."

“You’re being weird, dude.” Josh laughs it off.

“No, you’re being weird.” Jake points at him and then at her, lips forming into a frown. “And so are you. There’s something you guys aren’t telling me and I don’t get why.”

She feels Josh’s eyes on her now and she sneaks a glance at him before looking at Jake, opening her mouth to respond. Nothing comes out - she’s not sure what to even say. Instead, she brings her shoulders up into a shrug and presses her lips back into a line.

Jake pauses. “You guys aren’t like dating or something, right? Because you would at least have the decency to tell me that.”

Holy shit. She looks over at Josh with wide eyes and her heart is beating rapidly, watching as the boy is staring at his brother like he’s got two heads. Was it that obvious?

“Dating?” He laughs. “You think I’m dating her? She’s like our sister, man.”

"I don't know!" Jake's arms flail around him, obviously frustrated. "That's the only explanation on why you both are being so fucking weird right now."

She opens her mouth to speak, but Josh beats her to it. "We're being weird because you're being weird. Like... Do you seriously think I'd date her? Are you fucking crazy? I could never - that'd be fucking awkward."

The silence that followed was enough to make her stomach drop. I could never. What was that even supposed to mean? She stares at Josh, lips downturned into a frown but he's only focused on Jake. He shakes his head as he stares at his brother, a laugh slipping past his lips.

"You’re out of your mind if you think I'd date her... out of all people."

Of all people. The way he says it, the sneer in his voice as if dating her was actually the worst possible thing to happen has her eyes burning with tears. Not once did she ever think twice of her and Josh's relationship and his feelings towards her, but the front he has on right now has her questioning everything. She crosses her arms over his chest and drops her gaze to her lap, sinking further into the couch.

All she wanted to do was hide.

"You've always been a terrible fucking liar, Josh."

If Jake didn't know they were dating before, he surely knew now. She sneaks a glance at him and watches his face drop in realization before going back to his stoic expression, lips pressed in a line. He meets her gaze and it softens for a split second, sorrow filling them before they harden, glaring over at Josh. He doesn't say anything else and turns to leave, muttering about how he won't be back tomorrow and to not wait up for him.

The door slams shut behind Jake and the two of them sit in silence, the only sound coming from the television. Her arms are pressed tightly against her chest, fingers digging into her arms to try and stop the tears that are threatening to spill. Surely he didn't mean any of that, right? If he had then why would he even be with her right now?

That still didn't stop the words from stinging.

"I think I'm gonna go home." Her voice shook as she finally spoke up, slowly pushing herself up off the couch. "Obviously you don't want to be seen with me."

"I didn't even say that, Y/N." Josh mumbled, a groan falling from his lips.

"You sure did make it seem like that," She twirls around to stare down at him, lips pressed in a line to stop the trembling. She wipes at her eyes, "You didn’t need to say any of that - all you had to say was No Jake, we’re not dating.”

He frowns. “You know I didn’t mean it.”

“Sure sounded like you did!” Her voice raises for a moment and she takes a deep breath, running her hands over her face. “I just don’t understand why it’s still such a big deal that Jake can’t know we’re together.”

Josh leans forward and rests his elbows against his leg, holding his head in his hands. "I'm not ready."

"Not ready?" A humorless laugh escapes her, arms moving at her sides. "Josh, it's been over four fucking months. How are you not ready yet?"

"You don't get it-"

"Oh, cut the bullshit, Josh.” She’s yelling again, tears burning at her eyes. “I don't understand how you can say you love me - god, you fucking slept with me - and then turn around and say you're not ready to tell fucking Jake. It's doesn't make any fucking sense!"

He stands up quickly and she has to take a step back, watching as he turns to face her. "I'm scared to tell him, okay?"

"Why are you scared, Josh? There's nothing to be scared of!"

“There’s everything to be scared of!” She tenses as Josh’s voice raises, her arms hugging close to her chest. "What happens if we break up? What happens if I hurt you? Y/N, they fucking adore you. They'd never let me live it down if I did anything to you... I'm just. I'm scared."

"This is hurting me!" The tears are falling now but she makes no effort in wiping them away, staring at him with wide eyes. "What you're doing right now hurts! What's the point in us being in a relationship if we can't tell anyone? I can't even tell my mom, Josh."

His face softens. "We'll tell them soon, I promise-"

"No.” She shakes her head. “No. I'm tired of waiting. I want to tell them now."

"Can we please wait until graduation? We'll tell them then."

"Graduation?” She says exasperatedly. “That’s another month away. You said we could tell them after our birthdays, it’s been over a week, and now you want to wait until graduation?”

"Please."

"No. Either we tell them now or..." She pauses, tongue licking across her bottom lip. "Or I'm done. I'm not hiding anymore."

Silence fills them after she utters those words. Josh’s face falls, lips turning into a frown and her stomach drops. She wants to take it back, she does, and her head is telling her to forget it and run into his arms but her heart… her heart is telling her otherwise. She loves him. She loves him so much that it hurts and sometimes she feels like she can’t breathe, the love she has for him overwhelming her. Josh is her best friend and has been since she was a child, but no matter what she feels for him and no matter what they’ve been through, she doesn’t think she can keep being a secret any longer.

It’s not fair, she thinks.

"You don't mean that." Josh says quietly. She notices the redness circling around his eyes and knows that he’s holding back tears, and her lips tremble as a few more of her own fall.

"Oh, the same way you didn't mean to say that you'd never date me? That you're embarrassed to even be with me?"

"I did not fucking say that I was embarrassed-“

"But you implied it! Out of all people? What the fuck does that even mean?”

"Stop!”

His voice cuts her off and she tenses again, taking a step back from him. This is the first time they’ve fought in the existence of their entire relationship, and she doesn’t count the petty arguments they would have as kids. This was serious. Tears are flowing, voices are raising, and she knows lines have been crossed. She’s hurt.

“We’re not doing this right now.” Josh wipes the wetness off his face before taking a step towards her, his frown deepening. “I don’t want to fight with you. Not like this. Let’s just - let’s take a breather, okay?”

He comes to stand in front of her, hands resting against her shoulders. She can’t help but lean forward to rest her forehead against his shoulder, out of reflex, and takes a few deep breaths. She didn’t realize just how worked up she had gotten - chest rising and falling rapidly as the anger overtook her.

“I’m just done hiding, Josh.” She sounds defeated, voice breaking off at the end as more tears fell. “I don’t want to be a secret anymore.”

“Please just give me until graduation.” Josh pleads, arms beginning to circle around her body. “We’ll tell everyone then. I just need time.”

“Time for what?” She pushes back against his chest and pulls herself out of his arms. “We’ve been together since December… it’s almost May. You’ve had enough time.”

“Y/N, please.”

“No.” Her head is shaking as she fully pulls herself away, face scrunching up in frustration. “I’m not doing that.”

“Listen, let’s talk about this in the morning. You’re upset, I’m upset, and we need to talk about this with a clear head-“

She cuts him off, “No. I don’t need to clear anything, I know what I want. I want to be able to come over and hang out with you and your family as your girlfriend. I want to go on stupid little dates with you in town and hold your stupid hand in public. I just… I just want people to know how much I love you. Why can’t I do that?”

Josh doesn’t respond. He presses his lips together to stop them from trembling and her arms come up to cross over her chest again, hugging herself protectively.

“I can’t do that. Not now.”

She thinks she hears her heart break right then and there, crackling throughout the living room and falling to the ground in a heap of shattered pieces. Her words get stuck in her throat and fresh tears are building up behind her eyes, threatening to fall at any second. He can’t do that? Or does he not want to do that? Her head is whirling with every single earth shattering thought she can come up with and she barely registers her feet moving, body operating on zombie mode as she reaches for her things and starts towards the door.

“Y/N,” Josh calls after her and she can hear his footsteps falling in line with hers. She has the door half open when she feels his hand circle around her wrist and she pulls back immediately, his touch burning her.

“You’re a fucking coward, Josh.” She spits out, turning around to face him. Her cheeks are wet with tears. “Call me whenever you’ve made up your mind, but just know I’m not waiting another fucking month.”

She doesn’t miss the heartbroken expression on Josh’s tear stained face and the quiet plead of her name, but turns around with her chin held high, slamming the door shut and leaving Josh behind her.

...

And you call me up again just to break me like a promise

So casually cruel in the name of being honest

The last few days have been... awkward, more or less, between her and Josh. Since their argument the other night things haven't been exactly the same, but she just chalks it up to the both of them needing time. Things were said that shouldn’t have been said and even though she was hurt by Josh’s words, she knows he’s hurting too.

She still doesn't understand the big deal about it, on why it's not a good reason to let people know that they're dating and why he can’t let anyone know. It's not like she wants to broadcast it to the entire world. She just wants to be able to go to his house as his girlfriend and not have to sneak around his family. It's not fair to them - and to her.

She's propped up against her headboard, a book in hand, when she hears If Not For You blare throughout her room. She pushes herself up with a grunt and pads across her room, seeing Josh's name light up on her screen. Her stomach turns, not expecting a call seeing as she hasn't heard from him in almost 24 hours, and picks it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me." Josh says softly on the other end. She moves back towards her bed and sits down, her free hand playing with the strings of her hoodie.

"I know, I saw your name on the screen."

"Oh, yeah. Right."

Silence fills her ears and she frowns. Their phone calls have never been this awkward, even when they were younger, and her stomach churns with anxiety. Had their argument really been that bad that Josh doesn't know how to speak to her anymore?

"I think we need to talk." He says finally, clearing his throat.

"I'm sorry." She blurts out before he can say anything else, frown deepening. "I mean, I'm not sorry for expressing my emotions but I am sorry for yelling. Yelling doesn’t fix anything, even if I was hurt.”

"I'm sorry too," He whispers and she can see the frown in his voice.

“And I don’t think you’re a coward,” She mumbles, head dipping down. “That was really mean of me to say.”

“You’re right, though. I am a coward and I’m sorry for everything I put you through. It won’t happen again.”

She stops playing with the strings of her hoodie, brows arching in uncertainty as her frown deepens.

"What do you mean?”

Josh pauses on the other end before sighing. "I don't think... we should keep seeing each other."

It feels as if the world comes to a halt. Her heart quickens beneath her chest and her words get stuck in her throat, the only sound being able to come out is the pathetic whine that seems to slip past her lips. He's breaking up with her.

"What?" She breathes down the phone.

"I just," Josh sighs. "We both have so much going on - me with the band, you with school, graduation. Then the possibility that you won't even stay in Michigan. It's just, it's all so stressful right now, Y/N. And I know how upset I made you the other night… I can’t forgive myself for that.”

"I made you upset too," She says shakily. "A relationship isn’t supposed to be easy all the time - arguing is normal. And you promised we’d work through all of that.”

"I know."

"You promised."

"I know.” He pauses again. "It's just - the other night, you know? When you got mad because I’m not ready -"

“To tell everyone about us?" She can't help but laugh, a painful sound, the tears threatening to spill from her eyes before realization hits her. "Wait... Are you seriously breaking up with me because you don't want to tell your fucking brother we're dating?"

"Y/N -"

"Are you fucking serious, Josh?" She feels wetness against her cheeks but doesn't wipe it away, anger bubbling inside of her. "You're that embarrassed to be with me that you can't even fucking tell Jake?"

"You know that's not true."

"It has to be true if you’d rather break up with me than tell anyone we’re dating." She laughs again but it's forced. "I'm only good enough to be seen as your friend but not your girlfriend, huh?”

"Okay, now you're putting words in my mouth." Josh grits out. "I never fucking said that, and you know it."

"It sure sounds like that to me."

There's a long silence on the other end, all she can hear is the sound of Josh's breathing on the other end. She wipes at her face, sniffling quietly.

"I’m just not ready." He says after a moment of silence. His voice was thick with emotion and she didn't miss the way his tone trembled. Her bottom lip quivers as fresh tears begin to pour out.

"What do you mean?"

She knows exactly what he means.

"I just," He sighs and she hears a sniffle, "I think maybe we jumped into this. We worked so well as friends that I thought it'd just be the same if we were actually together and I don't - I think I was wrong.”

There's a finality in his voice that brings another whine out of her, and it's heartbreaking, but she can't help it. It feels as if Josh reached into her chest and ripped her heart out himself, shredding into small, pitiful pieces. She tries to wipe away the fresh tears but they continue to fall.

"Are you really that embarrassed to be with me?" She asks, voice breaking at the end.

"No," She hears his voice break at the end and a few sniffles follow, and her heart twists even more. "God, no. It was never that, okay? I think it's just… something with me."

"Do you not love me anymore?" It's pathetic, it really, really is, but she can't stop herself from asking. The thought was already clawing at her mind, feeding into the terrible thoughts that were beginning to cloud her.

There was another long silence and she clenched her phone between her fingers. Josh sighs shakily on the other end. She brings a hand up to her mouth to try and muffle the sound that wants to escape - another whine, a sob, she doesn't know at this point.

"I'm sorry."

The sob she was trying to contain escaped after that, her hand pressing hard against her mouth to muffle it as much as she could. She can't even think straight, her head whirling with the terrible thoughts again and before she knows it she's hanging up on Josh. She lets her phone fall from her hands and tumble onto the floor, landing with a soft thud but she pays it no mind - she couldn't even if she wanted to.

Every emotion she has felt in the last few minutes of that call comes crashing onto her. Anger, confusion, complete and utter sadness, even a bit of nausea. Where did it all go wrong? They had been happy, at least to her knowledge. And yeah, that argument the other night was a lot but she didn't think it was enough for their relationship to end. She thought it was enough to change Josh’s mind and finally gain enough courage to tell his family about them.

Oh, how wrong she had been.

Another sob wracks through her body as she curls in on herself. She lets herself sit there, for how long she's not sure, and she cries. And cries and cries and cries until she can't anymore. Until her eyes are so swollen that they hurt to even blink. Until she's sick to her stomach and could throw up at any moment. She barely remembers hearing her phone going off during that time and looks down to see 15 missed calls and 20 missed texts from Josh.

A considerable amount of time has passed, an hour she thinks, and she stares down at her forgotten phone. Josh's name flashes across the screen one more time and she thinks she hears her heart shatter beneath her chest, but she sits and lets it ring. She waits a few moments after the ringing stopped before picking it up, reading over the texts Josh had sent.

Please pick up.

I'm so sorry.

Will you just hear me out for a second?

Please.

I'm sorry, Y/N.

She laughs, and it's a bitter one, before tossing her phone to the end of her bed. She goes through the motions like a zombie while getting herself ready for bed, changing out of her clothes, washing her face, brushing her teeth - wanting to keep some normalcy to this rather shit night - before crawling back into her bed and curling up under the covers.

She hears Josh's ringtone blare throughout her room and she brings the blankets up to cover her ears. She thought she had already cried it out, but new tears fell with ease. Her body shakes as another sob rolls through and the last thing she remembers is the sound of Josh calling yet again, his ringtone loud and clear.

"If not for you, my sky would fall. Rain would gather, too. Without your love I'd be nowhere at all. I'd be lost, if not for you."

...

After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own

Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone

But you keep my old scarf from that very first week

'Cause it reminds you of innocence

And it smells like me

You can't get rid of it

'Cause you remember it all too well, yeah

It had been weeks since she last heard from Josh, or from anyone really. She's locked herself in her room most days, giving complete radio silence to anyone besides her mom. Doing anything is like a chore now and all she can do is go through the motions - wake up, go to school, come home, sleep. Something so simple like that is so overwhelming to her, most days crying herself to sleep from the exhaustion. She feels as if she's drowning, like she's short of breath and trying to make it back to the surface and right when she gets there she just sinks further and further down.

It only took her mom a few days to realize something was up, not used to having her home at all times; she was usually with Josh. Whether it be at the Kiszka's house or her own, Josh was glued to her side and had been for years, so her mom knew something had happened when they were going on Day 3 of No Josh.

It happened over dinner - confessing to her mother why she and Josh were no longer speaking and that it wasn't just a friend thing, they were actually together and had been for months. Her mother was surprised, more so about Josh breaking up with her and going completely off the radar. She always expected her and Josh would end up together, so that wasn’t much of a surprise. Many tears were shed and she let her mother hold her that night on the couch, rocking her back and forth as she whispered in her ear that everything was going to be okay.

She felt far from it.

Her thoughts are cut off by the sound of someone knocking and she groans, pushing herself up off the couch. She trudges towards the door and looks through the peephole to see who it might be, seeing as she was home alone for the night, and her breath hitches as she sees both Sam and Ronnie on her steps. Sam holds a box in his hands and her heart drops, but laughs it off bitterly.

He couldn't even bring me back my things himself, she thinks before she opens the door and pokes her head around the corner.

"Hey." She says quietly. Sam eyes her suspiciously while Ronnie gives her a frown, immediately pushing her way through the door.

"Where have you been?" Was the first thing Ronnie said to her, staring at her hard.

Her fingers grip the doorknob she's holding onto as she stares in between the two youngest Kiszka's, lips pressing together.

"Here."

Ronnie rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I could've fucking guessed that. Here, how about this - why the hell have you been ignoring me?"

"And me." Sam speaks up. "If Josh did something, fine, but that doesn't give you the excuse to shut all of us out. I thought we were closer than that."

She glances over at him and frowns. His expression is nothing short of a kicked puppy and her stomach turns. She'd grown up with all of Josh’s siblings and being away from any of them was hard for her, but being around them was too much. So maybe she had went a bit MIA on the youngest Kiszka’s, but she meant no malice behind it.

"Yeah, that's not fair. Especially because I have no idea what's even going on!" Ronnie's arms fling about in the space around her before she points to the box in Sam's hands. "All he said was to bring this to you and then shut the door in my face."

"It was rude." Sam butts in, brows furrowing. Ronnie nods.

"Extremely rude." With her hands on her hips, she turns back around to stare at her, giving her a pointed look but voice softening. "You have to tell us what's going on. You're like... a walking corpse at school. I'm worried about you - we're all worried about you."

Ronnie's voice breaking at the end was enough for tears to burn at her eyes and she slowly shuts the door, leaning her forehead against it.

"We broke up."

It's as if time stood still once those words left her mouth. She doesn't bother looking up for their reactions, already knowing what they both would look like. Sam's eyes would be wide in shock and she's guessing from the gasp Ronnie let out, her mouth was hanging open, and those same brown eyes wide.

"What?" Sam speaks up first, the shock evident in his voice.

"What do you mean by broke up?"

"Meaning that we were together and then he broke up with me." She mumbles as she turns around and reaches up to wipe at her eyes, sniffling quietly.

“Holy shit.” Sam says.

“Yeah, holy shit. Why didn’t you bother telling any of us?” Ronnie asks, arms crossing over her chest.

All she can do is huff out a bitter laugh. “Ask your brother about that one because I’m still not sure.”

She finally looks up at the two to find Ronnie staring right at her, expression mixed with anger, hurt, and pity. She has to swallow down the pit that was beginning to form in the back of her throat.

“Explain. Now.”

They've moved to the living room, Sam placing the box of her things on the floor. She's curled up with her knees up to her chest at one end of the couch while Ronnie sits at the other end, her mouth formed in a permanent frown. They’re both staring at her expectedly and she rests her chin against her knees, and she lets it all out.

She tells them everything. From when she knew her feelings for Josh were no longer just friendly in middle school up until their last phone call. All the good, all the bad, and the in between. Their first kiss, the first time they said I love you - she didn’t miss a single detail. She starts crying halfway through, the memories of the beginning of their relationship clouding her head that she doesn’t remember how Sam ended up on the couch beside her, pulling her into his arms. Ronnie scoots closer to them, her own arms wrapping around her. She lets them hold her as the pent up frustration and sadness inside of her is released, quietly sobbing into Sam’s shoulder. 

They stay like that for what feels like hours and she thinks she’s cried herself out. She reaches up to wipe the heaviness out of her eyes, feeling as if they’re about to fall out at any moment, and Sam squeezes her side gently.

“Do you want us to stay?” He asks softly. She feels Ronnie smoothing down her hair beside her, leaning into her touch.

“I can order some pizza and we can watch a movie? Whatever you want.” Ronnie mumbles quietly. 

She shakes her head as a wet laugh leaves her, sniffling softly, “Is it selfish of me to say I want to be alone? I think I just want to sleep.”

She pulls back from Sam to look in between the both of them, watching as they both wore the same frown. Sam’s grip on her tightens.

“Are you sure?” He says apprehensively, frowning deeply. “You’ve been alone for weeks.”

She shrugs. “At first it really sucked, but it’s gotten better… I’m learning to be without Josh. I realized how attached I was to him, and how not healthy that was. I think I need to learn to be alone and like it.”

She pulls away from the both of them and climbs off the couch, stretching out her limbs. It’s gotten dark outside - they’d been sitting there for a few hours then. Both Ronnie and Sam get up and mimic her, stretching out their stiff limbs.

“If you need anything tell us, okay?” Ronnie says as they make their way to the door. She gives her a small nod and Sam stops in front of her, eyes squinting. She has to look up at him now, the youngest Kiszka growing taller as each day passes. Sam pulls her into his arms again, hugging her tightly to his chest.

“You’re not allowed to shut us out again, you hear me?” He says into her hair before pulling back.

She can’t reply, her throat tightening around her words so she opts for a nod instead, hugging herself to his body again. She feels Sam brush his lips against her forehead before pulling away fully, giving her a gentle smile. She tries to give him one back, but it falls through, and her stomach turns at the pitiful look he gives her. She’s quick to usher them out the door, not wanting for them to see her cry again, and lets them know she’ll call them first thing in the morning.

She makes her way back into the living room and sits down on the floor in front of the box of things they had left behind. She reaches inside and pulls out the folded shirts she had left at Josh’s throughout the years and lets out a huff of air, holding one of the shirts up. Her heart drops when she realizes that it’s not even her shirt, but one of Josh’s old school shirts, but he had always joked around that she wore it more than him. 

Fresh tears form in her eyes as she continues to go through the pile of clothes before they’re all laying around her in a heap. There were things she had remembered she left and things she hadn’t even thought about in months and she wishes he had found the scarf she lost a few months ago, the one Josh had gotten her for Christmas a few years prior. It was her favorite and she had been distraught in losing it. Josh promised to get her a new one if he ever found it again.

He never did. His promises seemed to always fall through.

It was all becoming too much. It was all becoming too real. If the radio silence wasn’t enough of a message from Josh, this was definitely the tipping point.

It was over.

With a heavy sigh she gathers the clothing pile up and throws it back into the box, gently picking it up and carrying it up to her room. She doesn’t bother putting them away, instead keeps the box in the corner of room. She’ll get to that another day. For now, she climbs into her bed and curls up under her covers, finally letting her exhaustion take over.

(And what she doesn’t know is that tucked away in the darkest corner of Josh’s closest is that very same scarf she had lost. He had found it while cleaning out his room in search of her things, wanting to get rid of anything that would remind him of her. When he stumbled across the scarf he couldn’t seem to part with it. It reminded him of a time when she was at her happiest, the bright smile on her face clouding his mind. He wants to remember her like that, happy, and not how he left her - heartbroken with a tear stained face.)

...

'Cause there we are again when I loved you so

Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known

It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

7 Years Later

"Are you sure this is okay?"

She was nervous - no, scratch that - she was scared shitless. It had been years since she had last seen Josh, literally since graduation, and she wasn't completely sure why she had even agreed to come tonight anyways.

Maybe it was the countless phone calls from Ronnie practically begging her to come, or maybe there was a small part of her that actually wanted to see him again. Or maybe she was insane and loved inflicting pain onto herself. At this point, she doesn't know.

Ronnie rolls her eyes. "Y/N, if it wasn't okay I wouldn't have invited you."

She frowns. "I know, but -"

"Calm down." Ronnie turns to face her now, placing both hands on her shoulders. "You had fun tonight, right?"

She stares at her with wide eyes before nodding slowly. Ronnie had called her about a month ago letting her know that the boys would be in Los Angeles this weekend for a show and insisted that she come. Her and Ronnie kept in touch throughout the years, and she's kept in touch with both Sam and Danny. Jake was... here and there, she'd say. They were close when they were younger but when her and Josh "drifted apart", as she put it, so did her and Jake.

And she did have fun. She'd been to a few band practices with the boys in high school but it was nothing at this level. It was an entirely different from watching them play in their garage - she felt as if she was having an out of body experience from how incredible it was. They were so talented, and always had been. She kept up to date on Greta Van Fleet because of Ronnie and their parents, watching from afar, and she knew they had something special. She remembers the night they had won their Grammy and she Facetimed Sam immediately, screaming a congratulations down the phone before he had even fully appeared on screen.

That was the first time she had seen Josh, albeit not in person, since graduation. All the boys were huddled together around Sam's phone and she froze up immediately. He looked different, but still all the same. It was a weird feeling seeing him again - she remembers the way her heart dropped once their eyes met through the camera. They all thanked her, even Josh, and she gave them all a weak smile and another string of congratulations before hanging up. That was the last time she'd spoken to Josh since... well, since forever.

"Of course," She said softly. "This has been the most fun I've had in awhile."

Ronnie smiles at her, the memories from the night flooding her mind. They stayed in the back, hopefully far enough to where no one would notice her, and just danced and sang the night away. A few fans came up to them during the show, recognizing Ronnie, and some even recognized her from old high school photos. That was a bit odd, random strangers recognizing her from photos that she probably hadn't seen in years, but they had been incredibly kind.

"And you didn't freak out when you saw him, right?"

She wouldn't call it a freak out, but she did freeze up when he came out on stage. He's much different than he was in high school, more grown up, more sure of himself. The moment he smiled to the crowd and the venue erupted into screams, her stomach did that stupid little fluttery thing, and she knew those feelings that she had all those years ago were still locked up somewhere inside. Though, instead of freaking out and running away like she thought she would, she smiled and let the music take her away.

"Not entirely."

Ronnie laughs. "That's good enough for me."

"But this is different. I didn't freak out because I wasn't face to face with him but in there," She waves her arms towards the dressing room door they were about to walk through, face scrunching up in slight panic, "I'm going to be in front of someone I haven't seen since fucking high school, Ron."

"You've seen the other three plenty of times since then."

She rolls her eyes. "I didn't date them. And they all had the audacity to reach out to me throughout the years, Josh hasn't said a single word since 2014."

Ronnie gives her a pointed look. "Please tell me every single time you reached out to him since graduation."

She huffs but doesn’t respond, crossing her arms over her chest. Goddammit.

Ronnie pushes her towards the door, keeping her hands on her shoulders. "Listen, it'll be like old times! We all haven't hung out together in so long, Y/N. And you know I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t think you were ready. It’ll be nice."

They come to stop at the door and Ronnie faces her again, giving her a smile. She tries to act mad, glaring at the girl and trying to repress the smile that's threatening to spread across her lips. She fails but can you blame her? It's hard to stay mad when it comes to Ronnie.

"It might be a little fun," She mumbles eventually, shrugging her shoulders. Ronnie's smile grows.

"See! That's the spirit." She reaches for the door knob and twists it before looking at her from over her shoulder. "Oh, and before we go in... only Sam, Danny, and Jake know you're here."

Her eyes widened in surprise at Ronnie's words and all the worries she once had came rushing back to her, shaking her head from side to side. Her mouth opens to yell at the girl but Ronnie's opening the door and shoving her inside with such force she stumbles into the room, catching herself on the vanity near the wall.

"Surprise!" Ronnie shouts from behind her as the door shuts, throwing her arms in the air.

She looks up to find four boys staring at her but only one of them looks shocked, and of course it's Josh. His shock then turns into something else, something she can't read, and her heart twists beneath her chest. She swallowed the lump that was beginning to form in her throat, smoothing her hands down on her jacket. Why did she wear this? And when did it get so hot in here?

"Y/N!" Sam yells as he makes his way across the room, wrapping his arms around her. He picks her up off the ground and twirls her, a soft squeak escaping from her lips at the sudden movement.

"Sammy!" She shouts back, but her voice is not as strong as his was. She musters up a smile but she's sure it's awkward. He doesn't notice, or he doesn't care, because he's beaming at her while placing her back onto the ground.

He looks so much older now, a bit of stubble has grown on his chin and he cut his hair since the last time she saw him. She can't help but reach out and tug at the ends gently. Danny's the next one to come up to her, pulling her into a bone crushing hug.

"It's been too long." He says, pulling back to give her a smile. She laughs.

"It hasn't even been a year," She says. Which is true. The last she had seen Danny was over Christmas a few months ago when she had come back home for a week to spend with her Mom and she had spent the day with him and his girlfriend.

"Like I said, too long."

"Alright, alright. My turn, get away from her." Jake says from beside her and she jumps, not even noticing him coming up to her side. She's pulled from Danny's arms and into Jake's chest and she relaxes immediately, melting into his touch.

Besides Josh and eventually Ronnie, Jake had been the closest to her. They'd stay up all night talking whenever she'd come over and they both couldn't sleep, sitting outside on the Kiszka's porch until morning. When her and Josh broke up and the group found out about it, about their secret relationship, Jake had been one of the first to drift from her. It was hard, losing Josh and then Jake, and it wasn't because he was taking his brother's side or anything - he felt betrayed. The fact she nor Josh told him about their relationship hurt him. She never blamed him for it because she understood.

It wasn't until last year when she had seen or even spoken to Jake again, the boy coming to her mothers house out of the blue one day when she was back home for a short visit. It came as a shock to her but she invited him in immediately, apologizing profusely for what had happened years prior. He apologized as well, even apologizing for never reaching out until then.

"Missed you," He said into her hair, sneaking a kiss to her head without the others knowing. She smiled into his chest.

"Missed you too, Jake."

They pull away from each other after a moment and the only person left is Josh who's still staring at her with that same unreadable expression. Someone clears their throat, probably Sam, and she feels hot again, wanting nothing more than to get rid of the stupid jacket that Ronnie told her to wear and to run out of the room. She unwraps her arms from Jake's waist and brings a hand up to wave at Josh, giving him a closed mouth smile.

"Hi."

His gaze drops to her hand and then back to her face, a strained smile forming on his lips.

"Hi Y/N."

Everyone's eyes are on them and she can just feel how awkward the air is. The tension was almost overbearing. It's embarrassing, really, and she clears her throat before averting her gaze from Josh's towards Sam, who's clapping his hands together.

"I don't know what that was," He starts, "but it was fucking weird. Don't ever do that again."

Both her and Josh let out surprised laughs, a bit forced, and Sam gives them a crooked smile.

"We don't have to be out of here for another hour, I think." Sam says as he sits down on one of the couches in the middle of the room, patting the spot next to him. "Please indulge me on all things Y/N that I may have missed since the last I saw you."

"Me too." Jake nods, sitting on the other end of the couch Sam occupied, making room for her in the middle.

"Nothing's really changed since the last time we spoke." She says with a shrug of her shoulders before plopping down next to the two brothers. She watches as both Danny and Ronnie take their places on the couch across from them and Josh opts for sitting on the armrest next to Danny, arms crossed over his chest.

They fall into easy conversation after that, laughing together like it was old times. It's crazy to think the last time they all sat around like this was over seven years ago - back when her and Josh were okay. It doesn’t feel like it was that long ago.

Her eyes flicker towards him to see that he's staring down at Danny, listening intently to what he's saying with a smile on his face. Her heart flutters, hands clenching in her lap because it's been so long since she's seen his smile - a genuine one at that. She's seen photos online and from Ronnie, but seeing it infront of her after all these years is enough to take her breath away.

And it's pathetic, really it is, to yearn for a time when they were children but it's hard not to. His smile takes her back to a time where she hadn't had a single worry about the world and was happy with Josh by her side. It was simpler then - but they're adults now. Things are different.

It took her a long time to come to terms with the fact that her relationship with Josh, and even Jake, would never be the same. Her happiness dwindled, it came in waves, crashing into her with such intensity that once the moment left, it was like she had to start all over again. She had been glued to the Kiszka's at such a young age, losing the twins was like losing herself. She had to adapt, be her own person, and even though the road getting there was long and winding, she's finally at a spot in her life where she can confidently say everything will be okay.

Maybe her mom had been right.

The thought makes her smile to herself and Josh glances at her at the exact moment. They stare for a moment and she watches as the corners of his lips twitch into a wider smile before focusing back on Danny.

The hour passes by much too quickly for her liking and they're all packing up and moving out of the room, and Jake's arm wrapping around her shoulder to tug her close.

"We'll be in town for a few more days, we should get together again." He says, lips brushing against the side of her head. She leans into him, eyes fluttering shut before giving him a nod.

"Of course," She says softly and smiles up at him, before turning to look at the rest of the group. Her eyes stop on Josh and she gives him a timid smile, "You're all welcome to come by my place any time while you’re here, we could have dinner or something."

Josh mimics her grin and stuffs his hands into his pockets, tilting his head to the side. "That sounds nice."

"It speaks!" Sam shouts from behind them. Josh rolls his eyes at his younger brothers words and she has to press her lips together to suppress the smile threatening to form.

The tension in the air had subdued and even though she knew things were far from perfect, it was still nice to be around Josh and not feel so... tight. Feel as if she can't step out of place in fear of making him upset or worse, making herself upset and a fight between them breaking out. The night went better than she, and everyone for that matter, had expected.

"Actually, do you have a minute to talk? Alone?" Josh asked, voice low. Everyone still heard him but turned around and acted as if they heard nothing at all, starting up conversations between themselves. She chooses to ignore the knowing smirk Ronnie gives her and nodding at Josh.

"Um... Of course, yeah."

The timid smile Josh gives her was enough to make her stomach flutter and a comforting kind of warmth spread across her body, following Josh down the hall and away from their group

"It was..." He pauses, licking at his lips. "It was really nice to see you."

Her stomach flutters at his words but she tries to remain neutral, arms crossing over her chest.

"It was nice seeing you too," She says earnestly, giving him a small smile. "I won't lie, I was nervous as all hell to come tonight. I didn't know what Ronnie was planning."

"You never know with her." He chuckles at that. "I had no clue you were here until you stepped into the room. Jake said he had a surprise for me but I wasn't... expecting you."

Silence overlaps them and she stares down at her shoes, unsure of what to say. It was weird, standing so close to someone she used to know inside and out and not knowing them at all. The Josh she knew is different from the Josh in front of her, this one being a stranger. 

"I'm sorry for never reaching out." He finally says. She lifts her head up to find him staring at her, regret apparent in his eyes.

She frowns. "I'm sorry too."

He laughs, but it's painful, and he rubs at his neck nervously. "Jake always said we were the two most stubborn people he's ever met."

She watches him carefully but doesn’t say a word, pressing her lips together. Jake wasn’t wrong - the two of them were stubborn. Josh may say Jake was more stubborn than him, but she knew he was the worst out of the two. 

“Why didn’t you?” She asks after a few moments of silence.

Josh leans back against the wall across from her and crosses his arms over his chest. “I was scared.”

“Why?”

“I hurt the one person I never wanted to,” He says softly, eyes meeting hers, “because I was too worried about what people would think.”

She scoffs. “Oh, so you were embarrassed to be with me?”

“Y/N.” He groans, tipping his head back to thud gently against the wall. “You always know how to twist my words.”

“You said you were worried about what people would think. How else am I supposed to take that?”

“I was scared what people would think because I knew you were too good for me. Everyone thought so.” He tips his head forward to look at her again, lips in a frown. “And I was stupid. I let them get to my head.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” She says quietly, “but you’re not stupid. I just - I wish you would’ve talked to me.”

“I know. I wish I did too.” A beat of silence overlaps them again before Josh continues, “If I could take it back, I would.”

Her heart beats rapidly beneath her chest at his words, face flushing with color.

“That was years ago, Josh.”

He gives her a smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes, and her heart drops. The look in his eyes spoke a thousand words and it was heartbreaking.

“Before anything you were best friend.” He spoke softly and this time his smile does meet his eyes, though still a bit sad. “My other half. And I ruined that because I was a stupid kid. Losing you was one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced. So… yeah, I’d take it back in a heartbeat.”

Her heart drops. My other half. Her eyes burn with tears at his words and she looks off to the side, but she knows he noticed. Seven years of radio silence, seven years of nothing, seven years of coming to terms with what happened for it to come to this. On one hand it’s a relief to know that even after all these years Josh regretted it but on the other hand… she wished he hadn’t said anything at all.

“Josh…”

“This isn’t me asking you for anything.” He takes a step towards her, arms coming to rest at his sides. “I just - I never got to apologize. I owe you that much, and I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness right now but I hope one day I’ll be deserving of it.”

He’s in front of her now, just barely out of arms length. Their eyes meet and for a second the world stops - they aren’t standing in a random hallway with their friends and family a few feet away but instead they’re back inside of Josh’s car, John Denver playing over the speakers as they take on another adventure.

“I forgave you a long time ago.” Her voice is barely above a whisper and her heart stumbles at the small smile Josh gives her.

“Well, isn’t this just my lucky day?”

She can’t help but smile back, laughter falling from her lips with ease.

They stand there for a few moments, just staring at each other, before Josh finally takes a step back, and wordlessly tilts his head down the hall to insinuate that they should head back to the band and Ronnie.

"Do you think we could meet tomorrow? Maybe get lunch, or something. Catch up on the years we’ve missed.” They're walking back towards the group now, side by side, and she has to hide the wide smile that's beginning to form on her lips.

"I think I'd like that."

The beaming smile Josh gave her was enough to let her own slip, cheeks beginning to hurt just from how hard she was smiling. She still wasn't sure what this would entail and where they even stood, but she knew that in the end, whatever happened, everything would be okay eventually.

-

taglist (forgot to add this lol)

@danny-wagners-peacesign-necklace

[bunnybunbun0]

hi<3

Harry james potter request where he just win a Quidditch game and his girlfriend (reader) promised him a reward.

smut prompt #26. "wait to see what i'm wearing under it" & #30. "well, i think you're being a bad girl, don't you think you deserve a punishment?" also #27. "just one more, for me."

Reminder: it is completely fine if you don't want to do it so no pressure! It's your account, and it's your choise so I understand :)

- Stay happy, love!

Prize| harry James potter

Summary: that was always something about the cocky grin on Harry's face after he has won a match that made you all hot and bothered,this time,you decieded to take matters into your own hands.

Pairing:harry James potter X fem! reader

Warnings:smut, fingering,oral(f receiving), overstimulation, penetrative sex, degradation,Dom! Harry,hints of subspace.

Prompts: smut prompt list

#25 "wait to see what I'm wearing under it"

#30 "well,I think you are being a bad girl,don't you think you deserve a punishment?"

#27 "just one more,for me"

A/n:first of all hello,and thank you so much for your request! Second of all, sorry it took so long to respond I was out of town visiting my godmother and the internet connection there is awful,but I'm finally back home,and posting again!

That was very cool to write, harry owns me on a silver platter,it was also my first time writing overstimulation stuff so I hope it doesn't sucks.

Hope you enjoy it <3

_________________________________________

The match had came to an end after what felt like forever, griffindor had won, and that meant youd have to deal with an extra cocky harry.

You weren't such a quidditch enthusiastic, but you loved harry and wanted to show it to him,so you always came to watch and cheer extra loudly for him.

As usual, there was a party planned on the common room to celebrate the victory and hard work of the team by being showered with firewhiskey and a lot of music.

Now what you had planned for tonight's party was the real news. There was something about seeing harry all confident and extroverted that just did it for you,letting you all hot and bothered, so you decieded to take matters into your own hands.

After greeting the boy by the door of the locker rooms and make sure he would be at the party you came back to your dorm to put your plan to work, you took a fancy shower with all the self care products you owned,then you dressed up in a sexy pair of see through dark blue lingerie, putting on top a a tight black dress to ensinuate your curves.after fixing your hair and putting on some makeup you were ready to go down to the common room.

You went in naturally through the door, being used to said so celebration,you saw harry sitting in the couch bickering his drink,almost spilling it when looked up and saw you in a dress much shorter than you used to wear

"hi,uhm,wow,you look..."

"brilliant?"

"y-yes"

You chuckled lightly at how easily you could flutter the boy;you choose to ignore how he was devouring you with his eyes,and invited him to the improvised dance floor,being familiar with the playlist of Muggle sounds playing in the background.

The little firewhiskey you took making you confident enough to start purposely grinding down on harry times enough to make his mind wander to some dirty thoughts.

"I'm warning you y/n,you should stop while I'm being nice"the look in his face was hard

"stop what?"you knew that playing dumb would get you exactly what you wanted,encouraging you to bat your eyelashes at him innocently.

He chuckled darkly, expression getting even harder.

"you know exactly what you are doing don't you?"he smirked and pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheeck.

You kept ignoring his warnings and getting even more confident while swinging your hips to the beat,while harry shamelessly stared at your body,giving you an awesome terrible idea.

In one swift move you locked your lips on his, slightly biting his bottom lip,them pulling away only to whisper seductively into his ear

"you seen to like my hair huh?wait to see what I'm wearing under it"and then pressed your body against his.

That was it,in a split second,he was dragging you to his dorm by your arm,being followed by weird looks and wolf whistles, everybody knew what you were about to do,so it was no surprise to find the bedroom empty

Once inside it,he slammed the door shut pinning you on it and passionately kissing you,roaming his hands all over your body,lips now trailing down your jawline to your neck, getting on that spot that made you melt.

"bet you liked acting like a whore, let's see if you like what comes now"

He threw you on his bed,and proceeded to assault your neck,claiming you with red marks all over,knocking the breath out of your lungs.

"your dress,"he gave your clothes body another hungry look"take it off, now"

You did as you were told without hesitation,presenting him his favourite post game prize, pulling out a huge smirk from him

"all of this for me huh?"if he looked hungry,now he was a starved man looking at his favourite meal.

His gaze shot from your body directly into your eyes.

"well I think you were being a bad girl, don't you think you deserve a punishment?"

You felt yourself get wetter over your panties where a damp spot were already sitten,you simply looked at him with this doe eyes and he already knew what you wanted.

His feather like touches teasing you through the fabric of your underwear, slowly taking them off,teasing you by rubbing agonizingly slow circles on your clit,making you gasp loudly;harry slowly but surely buried his fingers on your cunt,knowing very well how to find that spot that made you melt and giving it no rest,prescisely brushing his fingertips in there with every thrust of his hand.

As his ring and middle finger pumped your pussy,his thumb played with your clit,bringing you closer and closer to a release.

Harry could feel the familiar feeling of your pussy clenching around his fingers,he leaned his body upon yours,attacking your neck once more,never stopping the ministrations on your pussy,it was definitely gonna leave a mark,but he knew you liked to be marked by him,so that everyone knows what he's getting after a well played match

"are you going to cum?"

"yes!" You somehow breathed out

"let go them"

You came almost immediately after his words, feeling your orgasm wash over you,at first you find it Weir that he so easily gave you your release,you were expecting him to tease the hell out of you and make you beg for him to let you cum.

But when his fingers didn't stopped after you rode out your high,it was when it hit you,he was going to overstim you,turn you into a sloppy mess,the startled look you gave him letted the boy know you were aware of his intentions,but it never stopped him though,he just winked at you,before diving into your pussy like he needed it for a living,tongue flicking your little bud,fingers never ceasing

You were still sensitive due to the orgasm you just had,the vibrations his groans of pleasure sent to your core had you already on the brink of cumming again,moans getting more desperte and hard to hold.

"ha-ah!-harry, gonna cum again"

"weren't you acting like a slut?that's what sluts like you get,just what you fucking asked for"

These words were all you needed to push you over the edge,coating his fingers and moth on your release.

You were already a whimpering mess,harry had that power over you,make you putty in his hands with so little,the sight of him pulling his pants down along with his briefs made you whine loudly,both for seeing his rock hard cock finally free,and for the thought of him fucking you in such a fucked out state

Harry knew you,he knew how you could get carried away,but he was painfully hard and just needed to feel your warm walls clench and cum around his cock.

He started to pepper little kisses all over your face whispering sweet nothings in your ear while easing himself inside you,his groans and whimpers in sync with your moans.he really did try to hold himself but you were just so close to him,so warm,so his,he quickly started a relentless pace

At this point you were giving zero fucks about being quite,just straight out moaning aloud.

"that's right princess,let the whole castle know how good I make you feel,f-fuck so tight"

You were literally quivering,shaking underneath the boy,wanting to get closer and away from him at the same time,it was hurting,but felt so good you didn't had the heart to stop

"h-harry 's sensitive,too much,'s too much!"

Now call him a masochist but this boy loves seeing you like this,writhing underneath him,face contorting in both pleasure and pain,him being the cause of it.

"fuck,I know love,just one more,for me"

He reached his hand down to toy with your clit,sending you into a blissful high,eyes shutting close as you came hard with a loud cry.

The way your pussy clenched impossibly tighter around him was all he needed before filling you up with his warm cum.

Once you regained yourself and opened your eyes again,you were met with harry holding a wet cloth and a glass of water.

"you okay love?was it too much?are you still with me?"

"it's fine,I'm here love,just tired" once the adrenaline ran out it was hard to keep your eyes open,a drowzy smile on your face.

"all right, let's get you ready to rest"

Harry handed you the glass,and carefully wiped you clean while you drank,he them handed you a pair of his boxers and one of his shirts,after you were all dressed up you just snuggled against each other,curled in your own little bubble of affection until doze off to sleep.

________________________________________

Sorry,I don't do good with endings,and sorry for any mistakes,English is not my first language.

Hope you like it,tell me if something needs a change.

[cloudytamaki]

hq » dumbass things

warnings: crack, dumbass topics (choking etc), swearing 😺✨ author’s notes: sorry if i didn’t get many characters / all of them,, i’m new to watching/reading + this is my first time writing haikyuu!

bokuto • you were choking on water, and guess what this dumbass does? he panics and yells your name, jumping up quickly as he slaps his hand down hard on your back. sir?? are we trying to give y/n a mcfucking back issue?

sugawara • found a puppy in the backyard at 12 am and brought it inside. i’m currently wondering if he needs glasses or a slap on the back, because it was obviously a coyote. you kept telling him and told him not to bring it inside, but he was in his mom mode and brought the ‘homeless shepherd mix’ inside anyway.

tsukishima • so you got up early in the morning and absolutely lost it when tsukki got up without pants on. this man was wearing his mom’s birthday gift from last year – boxers with chibi dinosaurs on them. when you pointed them out, he got redder than the dinos on the fabric.

asahi • you asked him to watch a horror movie with you. this was a very bad idea since you chose saw. he actually jumped into your lap a few times, and on a particularly gory part, he gasped and suddenly went silent. he actually fainted.

oikawa • you did the tiktok shower prank on him since he was singing at the top of his lungs. you jumped in, fully clothed, expecting a funny ass reaction. what you didn’t expect was him screaming, pulling down the shower curtain, slipping and falling, butt ass naked. he got shampoo in his eyes and landed hard on his wrist. you had to help this man up and rinse him down, then dry him after.

yamaguchi • you were at a gas station, buying slushies and random snacks for the car. you paid and walked out of the store, getting into the car. you thought he was behind you... he wasn’t. he actually got into an unlocked car; you dragged him out before the person could come back and call the cops.

kuroo • you have a pair of crocs that you wear all around the house, and you usually keep the strap up. but when you slid them on, you didn’t notice that the strap was down, and you were in the hallway trying to yank your feet out of the crocs when kuroo came in and scared you, causing you to fall right on your ass. he started laughing like a hyena and didn’t help you fix them.

goshiki • you were giving him a haircut since he insisted. i don’t even know how this happened but your dog came running in and started barking because of the mailman. and guess what?? goshiki jumped and there was some screaming – then suddenly you realized you had chopped a lock of his hair off. cue intense fright when he looks in the mirror. never again.

iwaizumi • you were cuddling in bed, fully asleep when suddenly he had a nightmare. his foot slammed into your shins and you let go of him, screaming. he shot up, his eyes crazed and his hair wild when he saw you on the floor. he helped you up and was so confused when you scooted to the other side of the bed.

kageyama • he... i don’t know how to explain this but he managed to get his foot stuck in the door. literally not joking. he managed to get his foot stuck in the door and called you for help, you grabbed him and pulled him hard but it didn’t work until you unscrewed the door.

daichi • he was eating lunch with you; he ordered a dish and he forgot to tell the waiter to hold the spice. so, when he started eating, he started coughing loudly. his entire face was red and no amount of water could fix it. guess who’s never going back there.

hinata • you know the funny my-child-is-at-the-register joke? you always laughed at it until it happened to you. you went to the bathroom and when you came back out, you couldn’t find hinata. he was gone... or so you thought; your name was blasted throughout the store on the loudspeakers. when you came over there he looked like he was about to piss himself.

lev • you were at the beach, slowly stepping into the water to have some fun. then your 6′5 boyfriend comes running in the water and slips on the sand, doing a wonderful face plant. and when he slipped, mud and water sprayed all over your nice new bathing suit. 

kenma • this man... you were at ikea looking at some new beds and wallpapers for your rooms, kenma was looking for a gaming desk. you told him you were gonna look at another theme and he nodded and sat down on a nearby couch. then you walked back over and saw him slumped on the couch, passed out. you had to shake his ass awake because there were angry staff people behind you.

tendou • he was making a scene about how he stuffed 12 pieces of gum in his mouth and was dancing to the store music when he started choking on his bubblegum. people literally passed by the aisle you were in with disgusted looks as you gave him the heimlich. don’t even ask me how, but he managed to get it stuck in his hair.

akaashi • you were going ice skating. kind of a classy activity, so you thought he’d be great at it. well... he kind of was; he didn’t fall, but he accidentally slid into the wall/railing thing a few times.

atsumu • begged you to go out with him to a new pizza restaurant and said he’d pay for everything. you reluctantly agreed, and you had the best pie of your life. and the $40 receipt comes, and you realize this man. left. his wallet. at home.

osamu • he mopped the floor and went outside, then came back inside, expecting the floor to be dry. well, it wasn’t, so when he walked on it, there were some nasty ass footprints. he actually blamed it on you uhm...

sakusa • someone recognized him in public and shook his hand because they were a big fan. the man went into convulsions when the person’s skin made contact with his.

terushima • he keeps acting like his tongue piercing is something to brag about. it definitely isn’t when he gets it stuck in some food and asks you to help him take it out.

suna • so... you were unaware he was taking a nap in the other room, and you were shaking your ass to some cardi b songs. and you thought the door was locked, and he caught you right in the middle of a split. your muscles popped when he threw open the door asking you to turn the volume the fuck down.

ushijima • you were cleaning the fish tank with him and you offered to carry the 10 gallon tank back to where it was after you washed it. he kept denying you and lifted it up to prove his point. when he was walking with it, he dropped it. 

yamamoto • kept talking about having guts and being manly, so you decided to test his resolve by dragging him to an actually haunted house. he did a very good job of disguising his surprise, but he just squeezed your hand tighter. you were nearing the exit when a big ass hairy spider dropped right in front of his face. man jumped back and shrieked like the little girl you saw earlier. he was so embarrassed when you brought it up.

nishinoya • you invited him horseback riding, and he happily agreed. well, you warm up to the horse before swinging yourself onto its back. he somehow botched both of those – the horse bit him and ran off when he got on. that pretty much ruined his perception of horses.

tanaka • he was going out in public and was completely oblivious to his own smell. goddamn, it smelled like baked beans fermenting in a sewer. he was acting all cool and didn’t even notice people covering their noses. when he got home with a bouquet of marigolds, you didn’t know what smelled worse, the flowers or him.

[obeymeluv]

QUICK! KISS ME! [Bros x Reader]

A lead-up blurb before I go to bed.

School is killing me. This has been in the drafts far longer than I wanted.

No offense if your name is Bethany. It’s a name I picked at random.

The follow-up piece will have the kiss scenarios.

△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽

Some of Asmo’s friends may have used you to get into a special makeup event, but it’s okay! They bought you a lip gloss as a thank you! The shade ‘Sealed with a Kiss’ was not what you thought it’d be

△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽

Being one of the first humans in the Devildom could be uncomfortable and sometimes down-right dangerous! It also had its perks. To you, that meant being close with the Seven Lords of Hell (and Diavolo). To other lesser demons and classmates, you were kind of a ‘get out of jail’ free card.

Were they late to class? Oh, just helping the human out!

Caught sneaking in food or drink when they weren’t supposed to? It’s to split with the human, of course! They thought you’d love to try it!

Everyone was keen not to overuse it and you’d actually made good friends this way. It was starting to feel less like an excuse and more of a way to be included. You were the friendly, reliable human that had won hearts and saved some asses. As a thank you, one of your closer friends (a repeat offender for lateness), invited you out to an exclusive makeup release. She was a VIP member and had early access an hour before the store opened to the Devildom public. 

The fact that she chose you, a human, over some LITERAL century-old friends caused a bit of tension but she could care less. “I’ve seen them every day for over a hundred years. You get one year, and we’re going to make it awesome!” Bethany breezed through the store at a dizzying pace, picking through concealers and opening a box of mascara to look at the packaging. She moved at a pace only demons could manage; you thought you saw her by the nail polish display but when you looked again she was throwing sheet masks in her basket. Hooking her arm with yours, she picked up some foundation on the way back to the coveted display of lip glosses and lipsticks.

You weren’t totally versed in the differences between Devildom makeup and human world makeup. In all honesty, there didn’t seem to be a difference. Bethany swatched powdery cream lipsticks on her wrist and followed with ribbons of liquid lipstick. Every now and then she dotted them on your arm; she was adamant about finding a shade the both of you could wear as your thing.  

“This one,” she decided, waving the tube at you and booping your nose with it carefully. “This is our color!” she took you by the hand and joined the checkout line. She had two in her hand but refused to let you so much as hold one, wanting to pay for it first. It wasn’t technically breaking the purchase limit rule; if they tried to nag her she’d just say she was holding onto it so another demon didn’t bully you out of it. You didn’t know if it was her VIP status or the fact that her defense made sense, but you were able to check out without a problem.

A few sour faces and mean glares met you outside but Bethany ignored it all, eager to have a Devilgram-worthy celebratory snack break (snack victory? You know, since you got the makeup?) The plan was to eat, hold down a table at the nearby cafe while her other friends shopped, and have group makeovers (or try-ons) before calling it a day. That plan was interrupted three bites into a croissant sandwich when Lucifer summoned you back to the House of Lamentation. He’d gotten wind of all the girls you’d be with and didn’t feel totally comfortable letting you hang out with them,

Had Barbatos seen something? Did Lucifer feel spurned that you weren’t hanging out with the Seven Lords of the Devildom? He gave no answer, simply asking you to stay put while someone came to escort you back to the house. Bethany was put off by the turn of events but few people dared to complain about the Seven Lords due to their connections with Diavolo (she was no exception). “If we can’t get the full makeover, we’re getting the selfie!” she declared, deftly breaking the seal to her Sealed with a Kiss gloss and swiping it on with help from the front-facing camera on her D.D.D

You busied yourself with opening your tube. Before you could ask for her phone (since the camera was already open), she took the tube from you and tilted your chin up. She dabbed the center of your lips playfully before carefully tracing your lips with the color. The heat rose in your cheeks and she smirked. Being part succubus, she could draw energy from emotions like embarrassment and the feeling of being flattered. Her fingertips pulsed under your chin as she drew on that energy. 

Getting energy sucked could feel like a lot of things -- being light-headed, getting a rush of excitement, all prickly and tingly like your whole body was pins and needles. Whatever it was, it usually faded into drowsiness and kittenish contentment. She probably only touched your chin for seconds but the wash of coziness had you melting against your chair, your cheek cradled in her palm. 

Did she take the pic? What was happening? It felt like Asmodeus had materialized out of thin air, helping you stand and making small-talk with Bethany before pulling you away, out of her aura that was trying to suckle the vestiges of happy energy you offered.

“And what shade did you get on those pretty lips, hm?” the cotton fell out of your head and ears, allowing you to really hear Asmo now that the aura effects had worn off.

“Uh,” you fished around in your bag and looked at the packaging. “Sealed with a Kiss.”

Asmodeus stopped so abruptly it’d almost yanked you back to him. The two of you were barely tangled at the pinkies and now he’d completely laced your hands together. He held your hands captive, drawing them up in surprise and basically dragging you into his torso. You were forced to look up into glittering pink eyes and if you didn’t know any better, they looked a little panicked.

“How long ago did you apply it?”

“I don’t know.” you blinked helplessly at him. That energy suck thing had a way of making your brain tune out and turn to pudding. That aside, who knows how long Asmo stood there and talked to Bethany while you were being siphoned?! “Bethany applied it, not me.”

Asmo clicked his tongue, huffed, resigned himself to only holding one hand. and started scrolling on his D.D.D to find that selfie Bethany posted. You were being dragged along like a child as Asmo’s shoes clicked towards the House of Lamentation. It amazed you how well he could navigate his D.D.D with his long, painted nails. 

Whatever he was looking for, he found it.

Asmodeus tucked his D.D.D into his pants pocket, scooped you up in a way that terrified and amazed you (two people being supported by one set of heels?), and flew to the House of Lamentation. He didn’t always use his wings, as he preferred to decorate them and maintain them with oils, but the fact that he was flying made you nervous.

What had he found? What was the deal?

“Asmo--” you started nervously, the flapping of his wings nearly drowning you out as he pushed himself. Flying against the wind didn’t help. Your hair was a mess and the wind was in your face; the Devildom was always a little chilly but now it was enough to make your face tingly.

“She gave you enchanted makeup. There is a reason humans don’t use enchanted makeup.” Asmo’s pretty brows furrowed as he cut a hard angle and glided over a portion of the square. The tell-tale thicket of trees that lined the winding path back to the House of Lamentation were on the edge of the horizon.

“What’s going to happen?” should you ask that? Did you really want to know?

“You’ll feel something in your lips--some people felt tingling, some people felt pulsing, it can be anything, I think--and then they’ll seal shut.”

“SHUT?!” you yelped. It was enough to make Asmo wince. The startle carried over to his wings; they shuddered and locked; the two of you dropped for a heartbeat or two before he corrected himself.

“If I can’t get some makeup remover on it first.” Asmo panted, tucking his wings in and preparing for a quick descent. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought to teleport first--the panic? Trying to one-up Bethany by walking home and being extra cute with hand-holding?--but a quick touch down could roll into a simple skip teleportation and everything should work out!

“But my lips are already tingly!”

“Ugh, Bethany! I can’t believe you! I mean, I can because it’s you, but really, Bethany?”

“Asmo, focus!” you’d already skipped several feet ahead, clearing the front yard in two teleports. The third put you in the foyer. “I don’t want my lips to seal shut!”

The House of Lamentation was huge but when the occupants had supernatural hearing, that exclamation turned heads. 

“What’s this about your lips sealing shut?” Lucifer appeared at the top of his stairs, his head already shaking.

“DID YOU MAKE A PACT WITH A WITCH?!” Mammon screamed down the hall, clearly not far behind.

Asmo scoffed, lowering his D.D.D with a pout. He was halfway up the main stairs, fingers working at lightning speed. “It’s the lip color!” he explained, stomping his foot. Noisy people were just so annoying! If everyone was talking he couldn’t explain! How rude! 

“All this over some makeup?” skeptical Satan peered over the banister, book and arm casually propped up on it.

“If two people apply the color and kiss, they’re locked in a makeout session until it dries down. When one person applies the lip color, they can use it like a cheat sheet to see who secretly wants to kiss them,” his words tapered out from authoritatively informed to quiet and shy. “It’s from their ‘Liquid Love’ collection.” he muttered into the stunned silence of the room.

You were trying to open your lips and ask why. The magic had already taken hold. Asmodeus could see you trying to move your lips and strain your chin. Luckily, demons could read minds. “It’s because Bethany is stupid.” Asmodeus rolled his eyes. “Ambitious, but stupid.”

“Please explain, Asmo.” even when using the dear nickname Lucifer couldn’t hide the demand. His demon aura was creeping up his body and slowly becoming jagged and suffocating.

“Bethany has had a HUGE crush on our little human here, and wanted to seal it with a kiss, so to speak.” Asmo’s cheeks got pinker and pinker as he explained. Mostly because he was mad he didn’t think about it. His heart did something funny at the thought of you kissing someone else. Lucifer also looked like he wanted to murder someone about now, and Asmo had to remind himself that he was being looked through, not looked at.   

“Just grab a napkin and wipe it off.” Mammon shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Asmodeus shook his head angrily. “It’s too late now. We need to find someone for them to kiss! Someone’s lips will break the seal on theirs...that’s kind of the point of the enchantment.”

“So they just pick someone to kiss?” Levi’s face was turning tomato red. Would it be him?! It would at least be one of them, right? What if your person wasn’t in the House of Lamentation and you NEVER SPOKE AGAIN?!

“Sort of.” Asmo patted your shoulders with his gentle, smooth hands. He started to rub them like he was trying to warm you up. Partly in encouragement and partly to get your attention because he could feel your brain spiraling down into panic. “They basically follow their mouth.”

“So that lip color is like a crush detector?” Satan abandoned his book at the top of the stairs and was now perusing articles on his D.D.D as he sauntered down the steps. It sounded like he’d found the one that sent Asmo flying to the House of Lamentation.

“Basically.” Asmo sighed. It was the stupidest way to confess to someone, he thought. Demon to demon, it was fine. Demon to human?! NO! The whole thing gave him a headache. The fact that Bethany thought she could just steal your little lips and be greedy with them was the biggest annoyance of it all.

“So,” Satan’s green eyes cut sharply from his phone to you. The corner of his lips curled up in a smart little smirk. He knew it was wrong to find your predicament so funny, but this was a very human thing to get mixed up in. “Who do your lips want? Who do you feel yourself being drawn to?”