#she loves it! collects it! has a room in her home dedicated to it! but she cannot repair it for the life of her

[dragonsongmakhali]

sildes into your inbox while doing chinhands. on a scale of 1 - 10, where would you put makhali's mad engineer rating? and if she was in a modern education system, what would be her specialty?

Ooooo rubbing my little hands together >:3

Makhali would put the mad in mad engineer. Her usual solution to Allagan tech related woes is percussive maintenance, and she doesn't generally do more beyond that besides bringing the malfunctioning node to one of her engineer friends and giving them sad puppy dog eyes to fix it. I'll give her a 4 for spirit, but her lack of knowledge would make anyone with even a passing understanding of mechanical engineering cringe. The scrolling pages of error text make her eyes glaze over, the poor thing.

In a more modern education system, my first thought is physical education, since she's very much in tune with how her body moves and is very athletic. If we're only talking about more mental fields, I can definitely see her being in botany or biology. She doesn't have the greatest memory, but she has a talent for animal care and growing plants that would translate well to a field position. I think she would enjoy integrating the newest technological advances to her work, like she'd be the kind of person with a greenhouse filled to the brim with sensors and automatic watering cycles. Her plant talent is relatively unknown, even by her friends, and is mostly on display in her house in Gridania - like in her bath!

[okaylikeschaewon]

Photographer: Part 2

IU, ~5k words, smut, male reader, author's note at end with update

“The only one.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

“Do you not trust me?” IU scoffed, crossing her arms and legs, the sass palpable as if she were filming a drama in her own home.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” you replied. “I just know you love watching them squirm.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m such an evil person,” she whined. “I make it worth their while, don’t I?”

“Hey I’m not complaining, I was in that exact situation only like a month ago and loved every second of it.”

“And look how far you’ve come, you’ve become so audacious,” she replied, licking her lips at that last word. “But I sorta miss when you were a stuttering mess.”

“I can pretend to be awestruck again if it’ll make you feel better,” you joked, sitting down next to her and wrapping your arm around her shoulder.

“You’re IU! B-B-But you’re IU!” she teased, lips curled into a sly smile.

She began to giggle as your hand dropped off her shoulder, tickling her ribs playfully.

Her smile was pretty, but her laugh was to die for.

“Okay stop!” she gasped, falling over onto her back.

“Apologize,” you demanded, leaning over her body, locking her in place.

She looked up at you with that mischievous grin - the one she flashed so often lately - on her face.

“No.”

Commotion broke out as you began relentlessly tickling her again, both of your hands toying with her sides. You couldn’t help but join in on the laughter as her shrieks filled the room; It was impossible to not smile.

“Please!” she wheezed, completely out of breath.

“Say it.”

“I’m sorry,” she gasped for air as you finally let up, giving her a chance to catch her breath. “I could get you in… so much trouble… for that.”

“Tell them and then I’ll tell everyone about how you’ve been taking my di-”

“See what I mean, audacious,” she cut you off while smirking up at you.

“I’ve learned from you,” you replied, leaning forward and giving her a short kiss on the mouth. “Take whatever I want, whenever I want it.”

“Strictly speaking, you’re still under that NDA,” IU threatened casually.

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t actually dare tell anyone about this,” you replied, running your hand through her hair. “I’m a gentleman.”

“Well I hope you’ll be enough of a gentleman to pardon me for just a bit,” IU said while gently pushing you off her. “I do actually have to get back to work at some point.”

“Has it really already been an hour?” you asked, sitting up on the couch, freeing IU from her prison.

“Hour and fifteen,” IU laughed while collecting her discarded clothes from around the room.

“Wait, just one last thing,” you requested, reaching forward and pulling her hand towards you.

She walked up right in front of you, looking down at you with a puzzled expression. Before she could ask what you wanted, you leaned your face forward between her legs and planted your lips against her bare thigh. You left a long, wet kiss on her skin before looking up at her.

“You’re IU.”

She rolled her eyes before bursting out laughing.

—

“Do you think we’ll ever be able to go out instead of ordering in?”

IU bit her lip nervously, looking at you with a face full of remorse.

“Does it bother you?”

“Not particularly, but I do sometimes wonder if it would really be that big of a deal,” you speculated, taking a bite of sweet potato. “What do you think?”

“I’m just…” she hesitated, poking at her food. “The thing is, I really like what we have going on. I don’t want to risk ruining it.”

“Ruining it?”

“It’s more like, I know how some fans can be,” she clarified. “I’m scared some of the more dedicated ones might… you know…”

“Understandable,” you said quietly, taking a piece of fish between your chopsticks.

“That’s not what you wanted to hear.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassured her, placing your hand on top of hers. “It makes sense, I agree that we should keep whatever this is more private.”

“Whatever this is…” she mumbled.

The two of you made silent eye contact, forgetting about the dinner spread across the table. You stared into her soft, marble-like eyes, getting lost in her gaze. She was special, you just knew she was special, and you were afraid to lose her. Despite the nervousness, it felt like the right time to ask.

“What exactly is this?”

Silence. An hour of it - or realistically probably just a few seconds - your world stopped. Ever since you had the pleasure of working with IU, you couldn’t stop thinking about her. The two of you would meet almost daily, unless her schedule kept her too busy; the days you didn’t meet, you would still text. You felt like you really knew her.

“I don’t really know,” she answered softly.

“Neither do I,” you said before awkwardly poking at your food, suddenly regretting asking the question. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”

“Don’t,” IU responded sternly. “I may not know exactly what this is, but there’s nothing to apologize for.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You…” she let out a puff of air from her nose before chuckling. “I’m fine with letting things run their course and just seeing what happens if you are.”

“Yeah, that works for me,” you smiled back.

She let out a relieved sigh before finally taking a bite of food.

“If you really want,” she said after swallowing, her tone changing entirely. “Pick a restaurant, I can book the whole thing for us.”

“Do you have any idea how hot that was?”

“Not exactly my intention.”

“Yet, here we are.”

“So what is it,” IU smirked, pushing her plate to the side and planting her elbows on the table, leaning forward with her face in her hands, like a flower blooming. “What are you in the mood for?”

“You know what I’m really in the mood for.”

“I want to hear it,” she purred.

“I’m looking right at it,” you answered, pushing your plate to the side as well.

“Don’t you ever get tired of that one?” she smirked, leaning back in her chair. “You get it all the time.”

“No, never,” you replied while walking around the table in front of her, leaning forward in front of her face with your hands on her arm rests, trapping her in place. “Never.”

“You know you got me in trouble earlier,” IU whined frivolously. “They said I was late.”

“Aren’t you like their princess, who cares?”

“I’m not a princess.”

“Can the amazing IU even get in trouble? Is it even possible?”

“I can!” she protested, unintentionally becoming the most adorable girl on the planet as her sharp eyes contrasted the subtle pout of her lips. “I still have responsibilities, you know, I don’t just show up, take a couple of pictures and leave.”

“Hurtful,” you laughed, standing up straight. You pushed her hair back behind her ear, stroking it softly, admiring the light makeup she was sporting tonight, her charmingly elegant look. That sweet, genuine smile she wore as she looked up at you with her natural innocence - the innocence that hid her true intentions. “You shouldn’t be late, it’s not very responsible of you.”

“I know,” she replied softly, keeping her gaze locked on you, only breaking eye contact for a brief moment to peek at your crotch.

“So the princess learned her lesson?”

“Need I remind you about why I was late?” her expression switched to annoyance. “And I’m not a princess.”

“I would love a reminder,” you smirked, reaching forward to slip the strap of her nightgown off her shoulder.

“You’ll never get one if you keep calling me a princess,” she hissed angrily - yet she made no attempt to stop you as you slipped the other strap off.

“You’re right, you’re not a princess,” you said calmly. “You’re more beautiful than a princess.”

To your lovely surprise, this got her flustered. Flattery almost never worked on her - she was too used to hearing it. Yet her soft features, glowing with a gentle blush, showcased her beauty wonderfully. She looked stunning tonight, just like she did every other night, the perfect visual.

“Tell me more about your responsibilities,” you continued, stepping even closer towards her, easing the thin fabric down until it just barely covered her chest.

“It’s my responsibility to make sure my staff is happy working with me,” she said as she rubbed her hand up and down your crotch, outlining your shaft with her fingers.

“Last I checked, I work for you from time to time,” you said back. “How exactly do you keep them happy?”

“It would be easier if I just show you,” she said while tugging at the drawstring of your pants. “If I have your permission.”

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want,” you answered, holding her hair out of her face as she began slowly easing down your pants. “Isn’t that how this works?”

“That’s exactly how this works,” she mumbled as she pulled down your clothes, freeing your cock from its modesty. “I love how you’re always so excited to see me.”

“Yeah, after all-” you gasped sharply as her tongue made contact with your shaft. “Who wouldn’t be? You’re IU.”

Her lips curled up as her eyes squinted just a bit while she slowly, painfully slowly, ran her tongue up your cock. You took the opportunity to slide your hand down her gown, taking her soft nipples between your fingers, playing with her body with utter freedom.

She reached your tip with her mouth, the way she looked at you. Overwhelming would be an apt description, her eyes managed to be so delicate yet full of ferocity. Confidence, allure, she just knew how to make you lose your mind by doing the most subtle actions, descriptions just couldn’t do her beauty justice.

Your tip was getting all of her attention now as she swirled her tongue, an expert with her mouth, round and round. Her soft lips pressed against your cock, leaving gentle kisses all over the tip while that unbreakable eye contact kept you fixated on her pretty face.

Kiss after kiss, not caring at all about the little bit precum already leaking. She just kept kissing your tip until she was finally satisfied, giving your hole a few gentle prods with her tongue before moving down your shaft, planting her lips on each and every section of your length.

The eye contact never broke. Not once. The most you got was a subtle squint when you would pinch down with your fingers. Even as her lips made it down to your balls, your cock resting on her face, she still kept her gaze on you.

“You’re beautiful,” you muttered, taking one hand out of her top and running your fingers through her soft hair.

Gently, she ran her tongue up your shaft, the blush on her cheeks confirming she heard your comment. Without even lifting her tongue off your cock, she opened her lips wide and slipped the tip into the warmth of her mouth. As she slowly moved down your cock, eyes still locked on yours, the excessive wetness of her mouth began coating your entire cock.

She sucked you off with utmost enthusiasm, repeatedly sending impulses up your spine. One hand was on the table in a feeble attempt to hold yourself up, while your other hand was holding back her hair. With how beautiful IU was, you didn’t want to miss it for a second.

The difficult part, however, was ignoring the haziness in your eyes. The softness of her mouth around your cock was desensitizing your entire body. For the next couple of minutes, it felt like your cock was the only part of your body that existed, and it lived happily halfway down IU’s throat.

It became too much for you. The urge took over - you needed her. You pulled your hips back, letting your cock escape IU’s lips before immediately pulling her up off the chair. Before she could even react, you had picked her up by her thighs and carried her over to the couches behind the dining table.

“Wow, do you have any idea how hot that was?” IU gasped as her back hit the cushions.

“Exactly what I intended,” you replied with a smile.

The smile on your lips was immediately pressed against IU’s mouth as you leaned forward over her. With your tongue down her throat, you yanked her little nightgown down and cupped her small breasts between your fingers as her legs wrapped around your waist.

Your throbbing cock was pressed against her underwear as the soft dress bunched up at her waist, exposing her soft thighs. You began rubbing your cock against the thin chiffon between her legs, her wetness being felt through the thin fabric.

Soon, both of your hands had abandoned her chest and made their way down her body. You had two handfuls of her soft thighs pressed between your fingers while your lips continued their gentle massage against IU’s mouth. She was intoxicating.

It was difficult to stop kissing her, near impossible at this point. Until she took the short instant that your lips parted with hers, while you took a quick breath, to speak words directly into your face.

“Hurry up and take me,” she whispered, closing her eyes and leaning her head back.

After a sharp inhale, you reached a hand between her legs, pulling her soaked underwear to the side and pressing your cock against her bare, warm, wet folds. Her body welcomed you, silently begging for you to enter.

Before you plunged your cock into her warm embrace, you leaned your mouth forward into the crevice of IU’s neck that she was presenting to you. Her gorgeous scent filled your senses as your mouth began kissing her smooth skin, right before you entered her pussy.

The warmth and tightness around your cock was nothing compared to the satisfaction of the moan that hit your ears. You began aggressively kissing her neck, holding your cock about halfway deep into her pussy, relishing in each and every noise leaving IU’s lips each time your cock moved slightly.

Once she had a few seconds to adjust, you rested your face on her clavicle, using your hands to support your body as your hips started to move back and forth. She kept moaning, more pragmatically now, enjoying the sensation. It was like she had become an instrument, one that you magically knew how to play.

Sex with IU was insane. The girl was so unbelievably expressive, it was impossible to not feel like a king around her. You could happily watch her scrunched up face while you fucked her gently for the rest of your lift - it was utterly enthralling.

“I’m going to cum,” you moaned quietly, keeping the pace of your hips. “You’re going to make me cum.”

“Mhmm,” IU moaned back.

“Where?”

“Anywhere!” she cried out, shocking you with the sudden intensity, scrunching her face up even harder.

Her hands grabbed her dress, scrunching it up into what resembled a tiny ribbon just below her breasts, exposing her toned stomach. Her knuckles went white with how hard she was gripping the cloth.

Only now did you become acutely aware of how tight her pussy was becoming. It felt divine, but it also meant it was impossible for you to hold back any longer. You suddenly hit the point of no return, the tension building up all around your crotch. You were mere seconds away from exploding inside her, but the desire to paint her abs somehow prevailed.

Without hesitation, you pulled out and began stroking your cock over her body. The same instant that your tip left her pussy, a beam of white launched all the way up her body, leaving a streak of white across her stomach.

IU, finally opening her eyes, licked the back of her hand clean of the cum that splattered on it before intently watching your cock unload into her stomach. Her deep breaths were making the lake of cum spill over onto the couch - a problem for later. She smiled softly at you while rubbing her pussy with one hand slowly as your cock dripped the last bit of cum onto her belly.

However, you weren’t done yet. Swiftly, you moved back and shoved your face between IU’s spread legs. Her sudden shriek transformed into a moan halfway as your tongue began making circles around her clit. You were aggressive, making sure she felt every movement.

The hand she was pleasuring herself with had grabbed your hair, and you could feel her fingers digging into your scalp. Her other hand was interlocked with yours as you reached up to grab it, squeezing tightly. Your tongue was working overtime trying to get IU back to her climax.

Based on how her thighs began to press against your head, you figured it was working. You began sucking on her clit while bringing your free hand up and inserting two fingers into her pussy.

“Just like that,” she groaned softly. “I’m close.”

Her taste was intoxicating. You simply could not get enough. She began to leak profusely, filling your mouth to the point of her wetness coating your chin; you didn’t care one bit. All that mattered was making her feel good.

She began to hyperventilate, arching her back as her pussy leaked all over your lips and hand. You could feel her pussy squeezing your fingers, convulsing each time your tongue lapped at her clit. It was inevitable now - she was going to cum.

Licking and sucking, you went a bit longer, keeping your mouth open now to try accommodating the mess she was making. After just a short few moments later, you felt a small spurt of liquid hit the back of your throat accompanied by a very loud shriek coming from IU.

“Oh fuck!” she shouted, letting go of your hand and letting her whole body convulse in pleasure.

She had also let go of your hair at this point, simply leaning back on the couch and enjoying the moment. You leaned back slightly, watching her writhe and ride her orgasm out as your two fingers gently thrusted into her pussy. You brought your second hand up towards her clit, rubbing light circles while you watched her.

Her orgasm went on for a while, and you enjoyed every second of it just as much as she did. When she finally began to calm down, you slowly withdrew your fingers and leaned over her body. The two of you kissed again, IU’s eyes closed once again.

After the kiss, you simply lay on top of her body, feeling each breath she took. The two of you were a mess, but that was the least of your worries. You just wanted to hold her, feel her warmth, feel her lungs inhale and exhale. For a few minutes, the two of you simply lay there in each other’s embrace, silence broken only by the gentle breaths IU was taking.

“What’s your plan for tomorrow?” you asked, gently breaking the silence.

“I have a short photoshoot in the morning, and then I’m free.”

“Photoshoot? I don’t remember hearing about this.”

“There’s going to be another photographer,” IU answered quietly.

You sat up and looked at her as she tried to avoid your gaze.

“You’ve had plenty of photographers other than me since we started this thing,” you said cautiously. “But why does it seem like there’s something bothering you this time?”

“It’s… complicated,” IU began to explain.

“I believed you when you said you stopped,” you chuckled. “I’m not actually worried about another photographer working with you.”

“We have history.”

“What kind of history?” you asked hesitantly, starting to get worried by how she was acting.

She looked up into your eyes with a pained expression.

“Are you really going to make me say it?”

“No,” you replied softly before moving over on the couch until you were right next to her. You wrapped your arms around her before continuing. “It doesn’t matter what you did.”

“He’s going to be the first photographer since I met you who knows about…” IU stammered, her arms latching onto your back. “What if he…”

“You can say no,” you interjected firmly, squeezing her small body tightly. You held onto her until she stopped sobbing, until her body stopped trembling, before letting go of her and looking into her face. “You’re not that type of girl,” you said softly as you wiped her face.

“What is wrong with me!” she shouted dramatically, tilting her head back to try and hold her tears in. “This was so much easier before…”

“Before what?” you asked while moving closer to her.

IU gazed deep into your eyes, her own sparkling with the remnants of her tears. She inched her face forward - it felt like she was taking an eternity - until her lips were as close to yours as they could physically be without touching.

“Before you,” she whispered before pressing forward.

—

It was impossible to stop thinking about it. You decided to work from home, IU’s home, because she refused to let you leave last night - not that you wanted to leave anyway. It would be fine under normal circumstances, but it did make it extremely difficult to stop thinking about her.

After accepting work was not an option today, you decided to just slack off on your laptop - something most employees already did when they worked from home. Time ticked away slowly as you spent the day switching between shows and YouTube videos. Luckily, IU’s home was painfully comfortable, there really were no complaints to be had.

Eventually boredom, or perhaps guilt, kicked in, and you decided to give work another shot. By some divine intervention, you managed to forget about the unforgettable girl for just a little bit and you actually got some editing done.

Taking the pictures was only a small part of your job, most of the time you were busy editing and compiling the best shots into sets for clients. As you sifted through picture after picture, you were once again reminded of how nice working with IU was. Working with someone as talented as her just made things so much easier, you didn’t have to delete hundreds - if not thousands - of ‘bad’ pictures; It wasn’t easy taking a ‘bad’ picture of IU.

Endless scrolling eventually took a toll on your mind, and you felt yourself slowly start to doze off. IU was partially to blame again: Why was every piece of furniture in her home so comfortable? It did, however, end up making your extracurricular activities with her quite fun. With all the options available in her home, the two of you rarely ended up doing much in her bed other than actually sleeping.

Your mind casually thought of all the chairs, couches, tables, rugs, and a number of other more unorthodox places the two of you have enjoyed the last month together. As you sank into her couch, you didn’t even have the energy to put your laptop on the coffee table before you fell into a state of bliss.

That state of bliss, however, was completely shattered when you woke up to the gentle sounds of sobbing on the couch next to you. Out of all the ways IU has woken you up previously, this was by far the worst.

“IU?” you croaked as your eyes furiously blinked open, trying to find the source of the crying next to you. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m a fucking slut.”

“Hey!” you quickly rushed to her side, pulling her into your embrace. “Why would you say that?”

“It’s true,” she cried, her eyes coating your shoulder. “Everyone knows it, everyone’s thinking it.”

“No they’re not,” you said firmly.

“You probably also think I’m a slut,” she sobbed, her arms falling limply to her sides.

“No I don’t!” you insisted as you pulled back, holding her shoulders, staring into her face. She still had the professional makeup from the photo shoot on, and you just now noticed how beautiful she was at this moment despite the crying. “What did he do?”

She shook her head, her lip quivering, tears building up in her eyes again.

“I’m not mad, I just need to know what happened,” you said, trying your best to control your voice.

“Nothing happened,” she said sniffled. “I didn’t do anything with him.”

You tilted your head in confusion.

“I told you, I’m not mad, just tell me what happened.”

“See, even you assume I’m just a fucking slut!” IU shattered into tears, putting her hands over her face and crying.

“What? No!” you let go of her shoulders, trying to make sense of what was going on. “Please, I believe you, just help me understand.”

She took a minute, one that felt like an hour, before lowering her hands and looking at you.

“He…” she stammered, scrunching her face up in an attempt to hold back her tears.

“Take your time,” you reassured her, reaching forward and grabbing her hands. “I’m not going anywhere, take as long as you need.”

She inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly, rubbing her cheek against her shoulder before speaking again.

“The photoshoot… after we finished, he…” she struggled until you gave her hands an encouraging squeeze. “He came into my dressing room after.”

You held your tongue, letting her say her whole piece before asking questions despite the burning rage that was filling your insides.

“He expected me to just… he walked right up to me and lowered his pants,” IU choked, taking a short moment to recompose herself. “The way he looked at me, he just expected me to…”

“Did he do anything else?” you asked gently but firmly.

“No,” she shook her head, lip trembling again but no tears fell this time. “I told him I don’t do that anymore.”

“And that was the end of it?”

She nodded slowly, looking at you as if she expected something, reassurance, comfort, it wasn’t clear.

“You’re not a slut,” you said directly. “Even if you did what he wanted, it still wouldn’t have made you… can we stop using that word?”

“Do you not believe me?” her eyes began to well up.

Without hesitation, you lunged forward and pulled her into your embrace again.

“Of course I believe you,” you mumbled into her shoulder while rubbing her back. “I trust you completely.”

“Then why does it feel like you still think I did something,” she sniffled against your shoulder.

“I don’t think you did something,” you replied. “I only meant even if you did, it wouldn’t matter.”

“There is no ‘if you did’ about it!” she shouted as the tears streamed down her face. “I told you already, you are the only one I want. I don’t do that stuff anymore.”

“I know,” you whispered into her shoulder.

“Do you still want…” she sniffled before stopping.

“Want what?” you asked, letting go of her.

“This.”

“You mean, us?”

She nodded solemnly.

“Of course I still want this,” you answered firmly. “We agreed to see where things go, is that not what you want anymore?”

“I’m… no,” she responded. “I’m tired of waiting and seeing.”

“You mean…”

“We both want the same thing, why make it harder than it needs to be?” she continued. “I’m ready if you are.”

“IU, are you sure?”

“Exclusive. You. Me.”

It felt like a weight had been launched off your chest, a weight you weren’t even aware of before. You could feel the palpitations in your chest, suddenly your heart wasn’t working properly. IU wanted to make this official?

“I’m ready.”

---

AN:

IT HAS BEEN A VERY LONG TIME. No, this was not initially intended to be a Christmas release, but hey Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! This chapter ended up being a tiny bit shorter than my normal, but that's because I decided I like this story and want to continue it for just a little bit longer (maybe 5 parts total?) and this was a nice ending spot. I sorta have a plan for how I want to end this series, so we'll see if we get there.

Anyway, figured I'd update a bit on what's going on with me. There's a really good chance that this will bite me in the butt, however, I plan to upload somewhere between 2-5 updates in my other stories within the next week or two. THIS IS TENTATIVE, NO PROMISES.

Life is busy, I am borderline retired as a writer now, but like I said previously: I will still try to write when I have time and motivation. Updates, after the optimistic 2-5 I mentioned above, will continue to be extremely sporadic. For those of you who truly enjoy my writing, I'm sorry that there will be long delays. For those of you who don't really care for my writing... why are you still reading this?

Same deal as before, I'd love feedback! I'll admit, I won't be able to put as much time and effort as I used to, but I still want to improve. Let me know what you liked or disliked! I didn't really proofread or reread this chapter nearly as much as I normally do, honestly I just missed the thrill of uploading a piece of writing. Hopefully you guys understand and will forgive any silly mistakes!

[californ1asnow]

Call Me Up Again - pt. 2 Mike Schmidt x Reader

Part two of All Too Well Angst!!! So much angst everyone I've decided to turn this into a miniseries, this post being the second part. I'll continue to link chapters as I post them This is also being updated on ao3 (cough cough) No warnings this time 1.9k words

Snowflakes fall silently, coating everything around them in a white dust. The wind blows with a crisp chill, nipping at all the rose-pink noses. It sends shivers down the backs of those who dare be out in this weather. The pumpkins and fake graveyard decor that had once littered every home’s front yard has long since been swapped for tinsel garlands and pine wreaths. 

The Schmidt residence beams with colored string lights and holiday music. A tall, sturdy evergreen sits patiently by the window. Its branches are decorated with years worth of homemade ornaments, ranging in all size and age from both Mike and Abby. The red skirt beneath it falls relatively empty of presents, only donning the few small ones Mike could afford to buy this year. They’re wrapped pathetically in an old birthday paper, the only wrapping Mike could find to reuse. 

Usually, the tree is so full that he’s had to store things in his closet, but that was when you were still a part of their Christmas. Stockings hung happily above the fireplace and a love so innocent it wraps the house in a warm glow. However, it’s void of that feeling now, instead Mike is left to pick up the pieces that you once fit together. Abby doesn’t understand why you don’t come over anymore, or why Mike has been so quiet lately. All she knows is that something went wrong, and now everyone is upset. She’s stopped bringing up your name in conversation when talking to Mike, because it always ends with him withdrawn and retreating to the solidarity of his room. 

That didn’t stop her from drawing you, though. Sometimes she’d sit at her desk, tears collecting in the well of her eyes, and doodle old memories of the three of you. She remembers them being happy, but by the time the crayons were set aside and the picture was finished, it was a glum mess of dark blues and frowning faces. 

After a drawing is finished she’d slip past Mike’s room, quietly tiptoeing out the front door, and make a break for the house across the street. Your house. She’d work fast, her feet carrying her quickly to and fro. It was unclear from her perspective whether you paid attention to what she’d give you, but by the time she slipped a new piece of paper underneath your door, the old one she had gifted you was gone. 

Mike was unaware of it all. 

He had found a new job in town where he could bury all his thoughts. It was working construction for a local contractor, a job that certainly wasn’t ideal but it paid better than what he’d been used to. Unfortunately, it required longer hours and ate up all his free time, meaning Abby needed a new babysitter. A job that was once happily filled by your company, now replaced with an afterschool program suggested to him from a flyer he found at work. He hated the thought of her sitting in essentially another classroom, surrounded by strangers and snotty kids, but it was his only option left. 

With a third of his paycheck dedicated to it, Abby now spends her weekdays at the nearby YMCA. 

The first time he told her about the new program didn’t go over very well. He remembers it clearly.  

“Abby please,” his irritated voice interrupts her incessant protesting, “listen, it’s the only place that can watch you.” 

“No it’s not!” She yelled at him, her finger pointing to your house across the street, “I want her back!”  

A pang of guilt struck his chest at her words. The lack of your presence has clearly been taking a toll on the both of them, but it’s the first time Abby’s ever been so vocal about it. He crossed his arms with a sigh, watching his little sister stare up at him with solemn eyes. Her lip quivering ever so slightly, evident that she’s holding back tears. 

He crouches down to her level, just like he had done to you so many nights ago, “I’m sorry,” he pleaded with her, “but she’s not coming back right now.” 

Her head shook with disbelief, stubbornly stuck in her spot, “Then make her come back.” 

–

You’re not sure when the Mike shaped hole in your heart stopped aching, but it’s significantly less sore compared to a fresh wound. That’s not to say the constant reminder of him and Abby living across the street from you doesn’t sting. It’s hard enough to ignore all his calls, but trying to get to your car while avoiding his gaze is even worse. Eventually, he gave up on contacting you by the third month of radio silence. It hurt both of you, but you knew deep down neither of you could continue functioning like how you were. 

The back and forth pull of his affection took too big of a toll on your mental well being. You can remember every moment down to the exact detail of how much you craved for him to just do something, anything. 

All those times you held him in your soft embrace whispering sweet nothings in his ear, reassuring him everything will be okay, just for him to turn around the next day and never bring it up again. Or when you’d run your warm fingers through his hair to calm him down after a panic attack, and he’d let his head rest in your lap. Words of affection dripping off his lips like a rich honey, warming you up from the inside out. Then he’d disappear for a while, claiming he needed some space to figure stuff out, all the while you’d beg and plead for him to tell you what’s on his mind, only for him to give you nothing back.You stood by him regardless though, keeping a silent promise that you’d always be there for him when he needed it, a love that was never reciprocated back. 

A long sigh escapes from you, eying the new delivery that just appeared by your door. You shuffle towards it weakly, unsure if you really wanted to torture yourself by looking at it. It’s one of those things that curiosity will drive you to do, unable to ignore it like a pedestrian passing by a car crash. The paper crinkles under your touch, unfolding it reveals the familiar childlike style of Abby’s drawings. A man drawn in green crayon frowns up at you, holding hands with an equally sad looking child. Your gaze drifts over to the other side of the paper, highlighting a person relatively similar to you standing alone with their arms crossed, angry. Your heart hurts at the sight of it, knowing that Abby is implying that you’re angry at the two of them. You shake your head quickly, trying to evade any tears that threaten to spill. It’s not fair for Abby to be caught in the middle of whatever is going on between you and Mike, and you realize that. 

The sound of your phone ringing breaks your train of thought, and when you check the caller ID your breath hitches. Standing in the middle of your living room frozen with indecisiveness, you stare at the screen while chewing on the bottom of your lip. Without thinking, you accept the call.

“Hello?” 

There’s a sound on the other end of the line, somewhere in between a choke and a gasp, and then your name is mumbled out in disbelief. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually pick up…” Mike’s voice is still a little startled, mimicking the internal panic in your chest. 

You suck in a deep, steady breath before answering, “Yeah, I didn’t think so either.” There’s a slight pause from both of you, unsure how to continue the conversation. It’s felt like years since you last heard his voice. 

“Are you…doing okay?” 

“...Yeah.” Your answer is unconvincing, but Mike doesn’t have any ground to be able to question it. So it’s left like that, timidly dangling in the air between you both. 

You hear shuffling in the background, and a smaller voice asking a question before he dismisses it. Your heart lurches thinking about how Abby is there, trying to figure out who her older brother might be on the phone with. It almost makes your cool demeanor crack, urging you back into your savior complex. 

“Uh, sorry about that,” your phone crackles back to life, “anyways, I wanted to ask you something.” 

“Oh okay.” 

“Can you,” he stops, leaving you on edge, “meet me somewhere?” 

The lack of response from you causes him to start rambling, going on about how it would be better to talk in person, and how it would be easier if you could see each other’s expressions. Soon afterwards, a string of apologies ensue, and you pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. 

“Okay Mike. Promise me this will be worth it.”

“I promise.”

–

A young waitress stares nervously at your booth. Orders continually piling up, hungry customers giving her rude looks whenever she ignores their impatient huffs. It’s been a good thirty minutes since you first showed, and she’s checked up on you at least a handful of times by now. Mike had suggested this little diner down the street from your house, and you agreed to meet here. 

However, it seems like you’re the only one who showed up. 

Your back is pressed against the uncomfortable foam board of your seat, a leg bobbing rapidly out of habit. You pick at the pills on your sweatshirt sleeve, trying to avert your gaze from the sympathetic waitress. Prior to your predicament, she had asked if you were dining alone, and you told her no. However, It’s starting to look like you just might be. With anger bubbling inside of you, a voice in the back of your head is saying you should have seen this coming. It’s so typical of Mike to make promises that he’s unwilling to keep. 

The air smells like grease, mostly from the old fryers sitting in the back of the kitchen. Oil bubbling and brooding in their tanks, waiting for someone to drop a morsel of food so it could shrivel in the scalding lard. Stomach stirring with disgust, a wave of nausea washes over you. It’s unclear exactly what’s causing it, you’d like to give credit to the sleazy restaurant, but something deep down points to the lack of a certain person’s company. 

You keep your attention trained on the dwindling heat of your coffee. Both corners of your mouth scrunch downwards at the smooth ceramic now held in your cold hands. When did watching a cup of coffee become so interesting? 

“Would you like some more?” The sweet but timid waitress asks you, now back at her spot beside your table.  

A joyless smile flashes across your face, a futile attempt at masking your dejection. Pushing the cup forward, silently accepting a fresh refill from her kettle. 

“He’s not worth it.” She adds, tipping off your mug. Her eyes refuse to meet yours as she does so, and you are thankful for that fact. 

“No,” you respond back, “he never is, I guess.” Your voice is shaky, as are the hands that are folded in your lap. 

Mike is not worth the years of being hurt and pushed away. Not worth the tears that fall after coming home from a night spent at his house, inconsolably sobbing because you know no matter what you do it leads back to the same thing. To give up all your time, love, and patience just to receive nothing in exchange. 

It’s not worth the unrequited love. 

“Can I have the check please?” You ask quietly, still avoiding the gaze of the girl next you. 

Her head shakes with pity, fingers wrapping around the arm of the kettle, “it’s on the house.”

TAGLIST - @wriothesleysbimbo @psbc @victimsofadownn @that1lxnlybxch @callsignwidow

[babygirlbites]

How would Leah react to her girlfriend using her as a portable heater and totally not stealing her jackets and hoddies to always smell like her werewolf?

I stopped everything to answer this.

I feel like being Leah’s imprint isn’t easy at first.

Home girl has been through a LOT in her last relationship; she had pretty much given up on the idea of romantic love until she met you

That doesn’t mean her trust comes thick and fast; she’s not cold to you but she’s not exactly opening up and bearing her soul either.

Her physical affection and emotional clarity comes with time and dedication - she keeps you at an arms length for a good while, but it’s inevitable that eventually she has to let you in and share what she sees as her “burden” of her baggage with you.

This can be tough on you, so you find ways to “keep her around”, even when she’s not actually there.

The first thing you take is just one of her black hoodies - she lends it to you at a bonfire before you even get the chance to feel the chill of the evening coming in.

You intend on giving it straight back but then when you get back home without her and pull it over your head you’re hit by the smell of dark sugar and pine - a scent that’s so Leah it twists your gut.

So maybe you sleep with it on your pillow? That’s your business.

It’s bittersweet how fast it loses the smell of HER, so you make sure to give it back so you feel less guilty about taking something else.

You start to be more vocal about feeling the cold, or put on a fake shiver when she’s around - she can’t deny you her clothes when she thinks you could be chilly.

Leah starts to notice this and at first she’s worried you’re getting sick or something; but then when she’s over in your room one day she notices the collection of her things you’ve got stored up.

It doesn’t click at first, and she loves seeing you wearing something of hers so publically - it’s her subtle claim on you.

But then one day she comes over earlier than you expect; you’re half way through sorting something in the kitchen so you send her upstairs without thinking.

She sees her hoodie wrapped around your pillow, the side she knows you sleep on.

And then it all clicks for her - this is as much of benficial exchange for you as it is her.

She doesn’t think before questioning you on it; I feel like Leah can be blunt with her emotions, she’s a open book with you.

And when you blush and try to scramble together an excuse she knows she’s got you.

As annoying as it might be for her to have less outfit options at her disposal, her heart is so full with the idea of you finding as much comfort in her scent as she finds in yours.

The physical stuff comes later; but as soon as you discover Leah is basically a living breathing hot water bottle - there is no turning back.

You’re pressed against her at all times, her skin is so comforting to you it’s like a safety blanket.

She might give you grief for being a little clingy but she’s never serious with it.

One time she ribs you on it at the wrong time of month and you go on a touch strike for a week, suffering greatly but being too stubborn to back down.

She regrets it so much she vows to herself that she will never complain about you clinging to her ever again.

Intimacy is not the easiest thing for Leah, but once you form that level of trust she needs you close just as much as you need it.

She’s always seeking you out, at least some part of her body touching you at all times.

This is only more extreme in the privacy of your own home.

You’re at the sink? She’s behind you with her arms wrapped around your waist.

You’re watching tv? She’s got you on her knee, your head tucked into her shoulder.

You’re in bed? She’s holding you like you’ll disappear if she lets go.

She wants you close always and forever - when you’re in her arms she knows you’re safe from harm.

Leah is the kind of girlfriend who won’t only die for you, but would kill for you.

She’s ride or die, she just needs to warm up to you first.

And she’s definitely got some of your clothes tucked away in her room too.

She offers to clean your clothes but takes the odd item and keeps it in her car or in her room, Sue definitely notices the very NOT Leah clothes that keep cropping up in her house but she knows better then to say anything.

Seth sees it too, but like his mom, he keeps it too himself, they are just both so happy to see Leah happy again and don’t want to push her to tell them before she’s ready.

Maybe it’s time to buy a few copies of your favourite shirt though

[shubblelive]

— NOT MUCH LONGER

summary : wilbur has always been dedicated to his viewers, sometimes too much. his fans are aware of this, you are aware of this, and he is aware of this. so when you go multiple days without seeing your boyfriend because of how hard he's working you take matters into your own hands, not realising that thousands of people are there watching you do it.

genre : fluff

warnings : mentions of eating/food, a few swearwords, wilbur not taking care of himself, very small panicky moment

pairing : cc!wilbur soot x fem!reader

pronouns : she/her, reader is called wilbur's girlfriend/wife

featuring : cc!wilbur soot

requested : Could you do a fic where the reader isn’t a very public person (in regards to the internet) and one day, wilbur’s streaming and she goes in and brings him some food and kisses him, not knowing he was live, and when she notices, she just gets all red and embarrassed and wilbur goes out of frame with her and its just all fluffy, and the chat goes craaazy

word count : 1.3K

note : hi lmao. i know, i know it's been nearly 2 months since i 've posted anything. school really caught p to me, i was so stressed out i was crying like multiple times a day for a few weeks. i wanna thank you guys for your patience, i have one more week of classes before spring break and then exams are right after that so i am really unsure of how much free time i'm gonna have until like mid-november.

There was a lot of things that you loved about Wilbur. Of course there was, the two of you had been together since university, nearing on 5 years. Knowing for someone that long, though, and there were obviously aspects of your boyfriend that you were less than fond of. There weren’t a lot, but the main one was the fact that he was a major workaholic. 

You were completely understanding of how important his job was to him. He had been doing it longer than you’d even known each other and you’d never want to do anything to make it seem like you were anything less than supportive. 

But the last couple of weeks had been driving you crazy. 

He’d be out all day filming for twenty different videos or in the studio - that was fine, you had your own work and hobbies to keep you occupied. But then he’d get home and it was straight to editing, or writing, or meetings for merch, album art, new videos. It had gotten to the point where you hadn’t even seen him in two days. You knew he’d been home, you vaguely heard the shower running while you were asleep, so tired you couldn’t bring yourself to lift your head. Clothes had been added to the laundry hamper, and water glasses had been added to the sink. He’d messaged you, of course. You were high on his list of priorities, it being a no-brainer that whenever he got a free minute he was texting you to let you know where he was going, promising that he’d be home soon.

When you got home from work, you were pleasantly surprised to find his docs at the front door, neatly kicked to the side so they were out of the way along with the rest of your collective pile. You put your stuff down and practically floated around the house, searching for your boyfriend. Not in the kitchen, though the dishes had been done for you, left to dry. Not in the living room, though there was a coat draped over the back of the couch that you picked up and deposited in the bedroom (also empty, but his side of the bed was rumpled like he’d fallen straight on top of the blankets). 

You were walking down the hallway when you finally heard him. He was talking softly, not outside of the norm for him. His office wasn’t soundproof, and you often heard him through the walls as you went about your day, whether that was laughing loudly as he streamed, or the muffled sound of him strumming his guitar, trying to write a new song. He was being quiet, probably editing a video. You knew he had his own room in the group office, just for him to edit, but he liked to bring them home sometimes. 

You went back into the kitchen to dry the dishes for Wilbur and you noted that there weren’t any new plates added to the pile. You knew that Wilbur had eaten while he was gone, he’d texted you every time they ordered food, but you also knew that it had been a couple of days since his last home cooked meal. You, admittedly didn’t have much in the pantry, but it was made with love, which was the thought that counts. 

That was the thought on the tip of your tongue as you knocked gently on the door, a plate of mac and cheese and a glass of water in hand, smile breaking out at the sight of your boyfriend at his desk. 

Wilbur’s viewers had always been aware that he had a girlfriend. He mentioned you for the first time after you guys had been together for a year, and since then you were a sporadic presence in his online life, maybe a mention every couple of weeks or months. They didn’t know anything else though, not even your name. His viewers, over the past couple of years had developed their own nicknames for you. It started from one of the first streams you were mentioned in, someone in chat asked if you were Wilbur’s wife. He’d laughed, said no, and then tried to say you were not his wife, and instead pronounced it “wiff.” It got slightly out of hand over the years, with most people lovingly referring to you online as wiffleball. Wilbur had apologised profusely for the slip up, but you found it too funny to actually care. It was definitely weird for you to see, though, the phrase ‘Wiffleball’ randomly trending every couple of months. 

So, they didn’t know your name, and they definitely didn’t know your face. Wilbur was usually on high alert for even your footsteps outside the door, let alone you wanting to come inside. He’d yell that he was live, and you’d wait dutifully at the door for him to come outside. It was more for your sake than his, but he cared just as much about your right to privacy as you did. But today, he was so preoccupied with the fact that he hadn’t seen you in nearly three days that he completely forgot to. 

The monitor with his own face in it was tilted away from the door, and you were so entranced by the smile on his face that you didn’t notice until it was too late. He was standing to meet you, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Hi, lovely, I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too, Wil,” Your hands were on his arms the second you placed the food down, and you were right about to kiss him properly when you saw a fast movement out the corner of your eye. His chat was whizzing by so fast that you almost couldn’t read it. You backed out of frame immediately, almost out of instinct, wide eyes meeting Wilbur’s. “You’re streaming?”

“Fuck,” Wilbur made sure that you were definitely out of the frame before putting his stream back on the loading screen and going back to check on you.

Your breathing was much faster than usual and he could all but see your heart jumping out of your chest. “I am so sorry, darling, I was too busy being happy to see you that I completely forgot that I was even streaming. Are you okay?”

Your hands found Wilbur’s shirt, clenching it between your fists and burying your face in the fabric across his chest. His hands were securely on your back as he held you while you calmed your breathing. You weren’t crying no, he could tell you just needed to slow your breaths down and you’d be alright. He was whispering reassurances in your ear and within a few minutes your heart had calmed down. “I’m alright.”

“I’m so sorry,” Wilbur launched immediately into apologies again but your vice grip on his shirt stopped him.

“I’m alright, Wilbur.” You strangely were alright. What you could see on the chat were all nice things, they were all so excited to see you. “Never want to go back on your stream again, but I’m okay with them seeing me.”

“You don’t have to be okay, love, if you’re not. I’ll get the VOD taken down when I’m done and edit you out and say something about not circulating the video, I am so sorry-”

“I’m fine, Wilbur.” You pulled the fabric closer to your chest, the movement effectively silencing him. “Like I said. I am still good not showing up on your streams and stuff, but you can leave the video up. I’m alright with it, I promise.”

He softened at your determined face. “I love you,” he said in place of another apology. “I love you, and I am still sorry that I forgot to tell you. No more until you say so, I promise.”

“Thank you,” you said earnestly, loosening your grip on his shirt. “I’ll let you finish up now, do you think you’ll be a while?”

Wilbur kissed you softly before sitting back in his chair and looking up at you full of love. “Trust me, I definitely won’t be much longer.”

[piracytheorist]

Twilight Eyes Project: "The Prestigious School's Interview" (part 2)

First part here

Previous episodes analyses

The anime starts this part by immediately establishing that Twilight has planted a listening device in the interview room and is listening in, and shows him with Twilight eyes.

As he admits, this is the first time he feels so nervous during a mission that he's having trouble breathing. So his instinct to stay fully alert is pushed up to eleven.

His mission is to be serious and collected for the interview. Yet there is a subtle sign of distress on his face. The slumped shoulders add to that effect.

The time for the interview is finally here! Loid Forger thanks the teachers for having them, with "Twilight eyes" still on.

Walter Evans asks first, and Twilight studies him, his eyes stay on.

Until Evans addresses him directly about his relationship with Yor. The manga has a small panel of Loid having a speech bubble with a "!" in it, the anime stays on the shot and softens up his eyes.

However, they're still "Twilight eyes" as he answers. The anime adds a shot of him looking away as he talks about his first meeting with Yor.

The image he presents about said meeting is not representative of reality.

He wasn't blushing, nor was he looking at her with such eyes, when they first happened upon each other.

The manga lampshades this exaggeration by showing a new picture of him with Loid eyes and adding the comment "mental picture".

Fans can hope this will be real one day.

He continues on to praise Yor's dedication to their family. Though he has Loid eyes on, they're not the exaggerated, zesty wide eyes we've been used to.

He's more calculated here, more modest and down-to-earth. He's adapting to the strict environment of a school interview; he can't look like a carefree, happy-go-lucky dad here.

In the manga, he turns back to Twilight eyes as Yor is asked about him, and he watches her carefully.

Murdoch Swan enters the chat! Focused Twilight eyes show our guy's suspicions of him.

Evans asks why they chose Eden, and Loid answers like any dutiful Ostanian citizen would: because Patriotism™ and shit.

How to Kiss Ass in a delicate, elegant manner.

I am quite intrigued by the fact that he mentions patriotism among the things "Loid" wants his daughter to learn in Eden, especially when he says it with such a passionate face. This may be "Twilight eyes" but I doubt any of what he says reflects his real views.

However, this is a super crucial moment for the mission. The smallest slip-up and everything goes up in flames. He needs to keep his face perfectly controlled at all times; every single expression he makes is deliberate. And this expression is the face of a man who loves Ostania too much to be working for a foreign government! Right?!

Evans asks him about Anya, and softer Loid eyes are on.

That's a proud dad who believes his child is Eden academy material. Confidence is powerful in an interview like that, and he needs to sell it as better and as more convincing as he can.

A polite, light-hearted smile as he jokes about how sometimes it feels like she's reading his mind. That's how intuitive she is, trust me, I've definitely known her for longer than a week!

Evans asks Yor about her cooking, she hesitates, and Loid chimes in helpfully, with a humble smile on.

Swan continues being an asshole, grating on Twilight's nerves. Twilight eyes are back on as he tries to explain the absolute horror of a *gasp!* husband cooking at home.

He's full-on, seriously defending Yor here. The average Manly Man™ would be on Swan's side, willing to badmouth his own wife in order to appeal to the teachers' conservative sides, or would at least admit that his wife's lack of cooking skills is something they're working on. Instead, Twilight praises Yor's cleaning skills and caretaking of Anya, saying that's more than enough to warrant him cooking the meals.

Swan is having none of that, and Twilight is ready to double down, until Yor interrupts him, agreeing with Swan's criticisms. I'd wager a guess this is our first glimpse of his anger through real eyes, an anger that will explode a little later.

My guess that his eyes here are expressing his real irritation and aren't just "Twilight eyes" comes from the fact that he has nothing to gain from doubling down - quite the opposite, in fact. He even chastises himself for getting so worked up, as he gains his composure.

Once again, eyes hidden in the anime.

It's Anya's time to answer questions, and Twilight prepares himself. Anya manages to hold her ground, though mixing up her words a bit. Eyes are slightly narrowed, and though he smiles, this is another moment where everything can go downhill very easily, so he's still tense.

He explains her fumbling away with well-timed excuses and awkward smiles that I won't show because I've hit the pictures limit.

Anya declares she loves her parents and wants to stay with them forever... and her honesty touches Twilight. Real eyes. He has nothing to decipher and no-one to manipulate, so he's just left speechless.

But he has no time to ponder on why he reacted like that, cause Swan decides to strike again. Twilight eyes are back on, as he senses he can't afford opposing him again, and tries to respectfully divert the discussion away from such an inappropriate, sensitive question.

Anya starts crying, and we immediately switch to Loid and Yor's reactions. And let me tell you, that small line under his left eye does it all. To Twilight, she's ruining the interview and thus any chances of Operation Strix moving forward. But he's not upset at her - he's upset for her.

Struggling to salvage the situation, he keeps his face tight and controlled as Yor runs to console Anya and even exclaims what a cruel treatment this is.

The anime adds a shot of Twilight looking at Swan's direction as the latter starts dissing them, and losing some control on his expression in the process.

Despite that, he makes one last effort to hold himself together, telling himself it's alright if Swan smears them. They're not a real family, after all...

But then, he's had enough. Cue nightmare eyes.

A mess has officially been made. All he can do now is try to salvage his dignity and walk out with his head held high, though secretly having lost all hope things will work out.

We get Twilight eyes, but I'm leaning towards the theory that it was because he was trying to pull himself together. For Anya and Yor's sake, who were harassed by Swan's vile words, he needed to be the one to end things there and take them out of this upsetting environment.

But not without a last word. He allows his judgment and genuine anger and disappointment in Swan's behaviour to show through his "Twilight eyes".

Again, things went downhill, there's nothing to investigate, he can't manipulate his way into the school any more, but he feels the need to make a point about how he feels about not respecting the feelings of children. If he's to walk out, he's going to do it with his head held high because this asshole Swan hurt the feelings of two innocent people, and telling him off is the least he can do.

And he keeps that face on as they leave.

And that dignity is enough to inspire Henderson to act in his stead.

(continued in part 3)

(no manga spoilers please)

[mrs-snape5984]

“It’s true! Look, how they shine for you…”

“Look, how they shine for you, and all the things that you do…” (“Yellow” by Coldplay)

Today, I want to share a personal story with you…something, I’ve experienced about two weeks ago.

As some of you might know, I’m living in my very own Snape-museum-like chamber, which is dedicated to my beloved Severus and the Wizarding World in general. Since I’m suffering from this cruel disease ME/CFS, I’m not capable of leaving the darkness and solitude of my room anymore. So, surrounding myself with my already 21 years lasting passion for Severus in memorabilia and artworks, is my way of coping with my loneliness and my sadness. Every single piece of my collection is like a patch of consolation…sewed together into a huge comfort blanket, which embraces me to soothe my troubled heart.

For this reason, I get notifications, whenever someone offers another rare item of Severus Snape online. This time, I found an extremely interesting and beautiful sideboard, which was skilfully painted and decorated. Unfortunately, this object was 600 kilometres away from my home, so I couldn’t ask anyone, if they could pick it up for me. Despite the fact, that I wouldn’t be able to buy this cabinet, I contacted the owner of it with the only intention to congratulate her for her beautiful design of this unique piece of furniture….and suddenly, we found ourselves in a nice chat about Severus Snape and his meaning for us.

She showed me a delicate pencil drawing of Severus, which she had made and I was immediately in love with it. After presenting her my own art collection on my walls, she offered me her drawing as a present. And now, I’m allowed to share it with you all! Thank you, J. Holdman, for your act of pure kindness and compassion. You’re an incredibly empathetic and thoughtful person and I’m grateful for meeting you online.

Commissioning artworks has become my favourite coping mechanism, even though it’s currently more difficult for me, since my savings are shrinking and my regular income isn’t paid anymore, due to my disability. I feel bad, that I can’t add every single drawing to my walls, but my room isn’t very big (and some of them would also be inappropriate for my children’s eyes 😏). Sadly, I’m struggling a lot with the acceptance of daylight and illumination, lately. But once a day, I’m switching on a little lamplight to enjoy my art gallery for some minutes (by wearing sunglasses).

My beloved friend Miri helped me again to rearrange my whole gallery. You’re invited to grab a piece of my joy by having a glimpse at my collection. Please feel free to enjoy these masterpieces of art! Most of them are drawings of Severus and my, indeed, very self-inserted OC Jules! 🥹

Credits for these mesmerising pieces of art in my room go out to (there’s no order, I’m going through my gallery, whilst I’m writing this):

J. Holdman

My bestie Miri H.

@madfantasy

@mmad-lover

@turpinsimp-blog

@snake-queen7

@alinearthp

@dranna

@sleepybradipo

@capysnapeart

@hannisimp

@opalchalice

@pinklovecharm

You all…and all the other artists of Snapedom, I’ve already commissioned, but also all those other persons, I’ve met here on tumblr, are my lights in this dark time…my stars…my yellow! There are no words to express my gratitude…so I just leave it like that. Thank you. ✨

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[yandere-metal-family]

Diana Headcanons

Girl is so in love it’s crazy

Can not keep her eyes off of you to save her life

It’s so obvious she has a crush on you. She’s not good at hiding it

Wakes up super early to doll herself for you to notice her

Bats her eyelashes whenever talking to you

Subconsciously talks a bit higher when around you

Sometimes asks for your help on assignments just to be able to talk to you

God, she could listen to you talk all day

She's obsessed

Has multiple pictures of you on her phone. Has a whole album dedicated to you

You're her home screen

She has Pinterest boards that remind her of you and your future [and wedding]

Probably has a shrine in her room. Hopefully you never see it

Collects your things when you lose/throw them away. At first she thought it was gross, but she quickly dismissed that thought

She has your whole schedule memorized

She gets jealous pretty easily

Will roll her eyes and glare

Wears your favorite colors and gets so flustered when you compliment her outfit

Really knows how to manipulate you to get what she wants

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Love is a killer that never dies (part 1)

Dracule Mihawk x reader. NSFW!! Discussion of dub-con.

This fic is part of the Beast in Black series.

This is part one of four. Kuraigana Island is Mihawk's home in the manga/anime.

Shanks being in a relationship with his crew's doctor is an allusion to this headcanon list and then to this fic, even though they take place in a different continuity.

*****

Dracule Mihawk was in a conundrum. 

That was more than a little unusual for him, since as a rule there was very little that had the power to actually catch his interest, and when that happened he was inevitably powerful, well-connected and, on occasion, intimidating enough to get what he wanted without too much hassle. Most of the time he was content, even happy with his life, and with what he owned, and he rarely found himself wanting for more.

Well, it appeared life still had the power to surprise him, because at his age, after years in which no opponent had been able to seriously trouble him and he had grown bored with his occupation as one of the Seven Warlords, he suddenly found himself highly interested in a certain matter, something he deeply desired, that he craved, even that he physically needed, and that at least for the time being was not only outside his reach, but Mihawk had not the faintest idea of how to make it his.

Well. He said something, and it, but somebody, and she, would have been more appropriate; a she who had a lovely smile, and very pretty hair, and a particular way of walking that made her hips and backside sway in such an enticing way…

“What are you thinking about?” (name) asked, looking curiously at Mihawk and unknowingly distracting him from thoughts that not only concerned her, but she had a protagonist role in “I’m sorry, I’m boring you…”

“Not at all.” he rushed to reassure her, forcing himself to swallow and act normally; he had not made a fool of himself in front of a lady when he was a hormone-prone teenager and surely he would not start now that he was decades older “I just… got distracted. I’m very impressed by all of this; you and your mother must be very proud of yourselves.”

It was the third day of his permanence on (name)’s island, and the woman had brought him to visit the site of her newest project: a museum, which was going to be inaugurated soon in a large building that had previously housed the island’s chamber of commerce. Once the organisation had moved to a new headquarter, closer to the centre of the city, (name) and her mother had decided to repurpose the old location, destining it to the preservation and display of works of arts and other culturally significant pieces. 

“There are excellent schools on the island, and libraries, and even an astronomical observatory.” (name) explained as they crossed one of the still half-furnished rooms, that according to the panel hanging out of the door was destined to house archaeological artefacts “But no museums. I got the idea reading about the inauguration of an art gallery on the paper; I have visited quite a few, as well as botanical gardens and other institutions, when on holiday with my parents as a girl or on my own; but not everyone here can travel freely as I can, and I want my people, especially children, to learn to appreciate art, and that learning doesn’t necessarily happens inside a classroom.”

Mihawk nodded; he admired how dedicated his friend was to the well-being of her island, and of the people she would one day rule over. “What about the collections? How did you acquire the pieces to fill all these rooms?”

“Well, the art section will mainly house paintings owned by my family; they will look better here than in rooms that no one but me and my mother have visited in years. Some others have been donated, or lent, by larger institutions my mother has written to; and a few… well, my latest two bounties were particularly high, and after I bought a new dress there was more than enough for a few antiquities.” she answered proudly “I can’t wait for this place to open, I was thinking about inviting the lords and ladies of a few other feuds to the inauguration…”

The two spent a while walking around; they were alone, the construction workers having left an hour before. Mihawk did his best not to look uninterested in the project the woman next to him clearly cared so much about, but as he listened to her talk, and saw her proud smile as (name) described the way the artefacts would be arranged in the various rooms, and how she had invited the kingdom’s leading archaeologist to attend the museum’s inauguration, all he could think about was how pleasant would it be to take advantage of that solitude to press her back against one of the building’s unpainted walls, rest his hands on her deliciously feminine hips, and kiss her long and hard enough to leave both of them breathless. She would taste heavenly, he was sure of it, but what he wanted the most, what he would give half of his blood to experience just once, was to hear her say his name in the throes of passion, their bodies pressed against each other, his mouth avidly swallowing her moans as her lovely hands, that Mihawk had seen delicately holding a fork or a pen, and then confidently clench around the butt of a gun, caressing and stimulating his skin under his clothes.

“M-Mihawk… don’t stop… oh, Mihawk, I want you so much…”

Gods. He could get hard just by thinking about it; what was happening to him? How could he manage his urges… and, more importantly, the feelings that had aroused them? 

“I’m sorry if all this feels dull to you.” (name) said later as they, sitting in the small but elegant horse-drawn carriage, looked at the people and building of the city pass in front of them on the way to the fortress; Mihawk saw many passers-by respectfully bow their heads at the vehicle’s passage, no doubt imagining who was riding inside “I love my island, but there is not much to do, especially for a guest who is used to a more… active lifestyle; also, I have so little time…”

Mihawk smiled - briefly, and only for a moment, but sincerely. “You have nothing to apologise for; I don’t need to be entertained every waking moment, and I understand you have duties to attend to.”

(name) smiled, relieved and almost shy; Mihawk saw her bit her lip -her lovely, rouge-tinted lips, that he recently had found himself dreaming of more than once- and briefly move the hand resting on her lap, apparently without a reason… or maybe, Mihawk allowed himself to believe for a moment, to touch his, only a few inches away. 

“Still, you are my personal guest; it is my duty to make sure you are well looked after, and do not regret accepting my invitation.”

“You don’t need to fear in that regard; you are an excellent host.” he reassured her. “I am actually enjoying my stay more than I expected.”

“I’m very happy to hear you say so.”

The two of them spent the rest of the ride home in a comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence as they always did - with each other, and few other people besides. When the carriage stopped in front of the fortress’s main gate, Mihawk allowed a servant in livery to open the door, stepped out and then offered his hand to (name) to help her descend, receiving another smile as a reward. Gods, her smile, he thought; that alone could be enough to make his self-control crumble.

“Thank you, kind sir.”

“It was my pleasure, my lady.”

They were about to walk inside when the servant cleared his voice. “Apologies, my lady, but the lady Veressa asked me to inform you that lord Theon has honoured us with a visit.”

Looking at (name), Mihawk thought the woman didn’t seem to feel particularly honoured; rather, she had the face of someone who had been told they would never celebrate their birthday again. “You mean today? Now?” she asked “He was supposed to come for my mother’s birthday, next month.”

“Yes, my lady; he arrived less than an hour ago. He is in the banquet hall with your mother.”

“Alone? I mean, are his wife and son with him?”

“No, my lady. He came alone.”

(name) frowned. “Which means he could want to stay a while. Just what I need.” she muttered, clearly unhappy; realising she had actually uttered those words instead of simply thinking them, she rushed to dismiss the servant, who bowed low and left.

“I gather this guest is not of your liking.” 

“He really isn’t. He… well, Theon is my cousin. If unpleasantness were a sport, he would be a world champion, but since he is one of my closest relatives besides my mother I can’t always avoid him. He has the unspoken right to come visit whenever he pleases, a privilege he makes large use of with the sole purpose of vexing me, even though he doesn’t enjoy my company any more than I enjoy his.”

 “Why has he come visiting, then?” Mihawk wondered; he thought the question harmless, but he saw the woman in front of him frown, the good mood of the afternoon spent together disappearing like snow at the coming of spring.

“Well… you remember I told you I can’t have children?” she said in the end, not even attempting to hide how painful it was for her to discuss that topic. It had been unintentional, but Mihawk mentally kicked himself for leading their conversation towards such a difficult topic.

“Of course.”

“Theon is not simply a close relative of mine… he is the closest, obviously after my mother, which technically makes him my heir. He’s two years older than me, which means he’s probably not going to enjoy being the lord long, but five years ago he had a son, and since I was still unmarried and childless, he formally asked my mother to exclude me from the line of succession, naming him her heir. My mother obviously refused, which only helped exacerbating Theon’s resentment against us both.”

Mihawk tensed. “You think he could attempt to depose her? Or hurt one of the two?” he inquired, and (name) actually considered his hypothesis for a moment before shaking her head.

“Theon is an idiot, but he’s not a fool; he knows the people of this island would never accept him if he took power by force.” she reasoned “He only wants to check whether my mother is in good health, clearly hoping she is not… and if I have a partner who could get me pregnant, since we have kept the fact that I am now infertile secret. He’s becoming more insufferable every passing year…”

She looked decidedly unhappy, an unusual circumstance for a normally self-assured woman, her eyes downcast as her hand almost unconsciously brushed against her stomach - against her womb, that would never grow heavy with a child. 

For a moment, Mihawk seriously considered offering to tell (name)’s cousin she did have a partner - him, a powerful and menacing pirate with a six foot four sword hanging from his back, who would have no qualms defending her from any unpleasant comment or insinuation; the woman could take care of and stand up for herself, but she might be forced to be polite to her cousin, while he would happily introduce the fool to Yoru’s cutting side to save her the torment. 

“I’ll have to ask him to dine with us.” (name) muttered as they both set off towards the inside of the fortress “I’m so sorry, Mihawk.”

“I don’t mind.” he lied “To be honest, I can’t wait to meet your cousin.”   

His desire was fulfilled only a few minutes later when, crossing the banquet hall to reach their quarters, they met the lady Veressa, deep in conversation with a tall, well-dressed man. The older woman smiled seeing them come in, but her gaze grew tense a moment later; she clearly did not appreciate Theon’s visit any more than her daughter did. 

“Hello, my love; Mihawk. Was your afternoon pleasant?”

“It was, mother, thank you.”

“Good. Look who came to visit us.”

There was a vague resemblance between Theon and his cousin and aunt, Mihawk found, even though the man’s face was devoid of the beauty they had been blessed with; he was tall and broad-shouldered, but a weak chin was visible under his well-kept beard.

“Theon. We were not expecting you.” (name) pointed out without a smile, fake or otherwise.

“I’m returning home from a trip abroad, and I thought I would pay my family a visit before returning home.” Theon explained “Good to see you, (name);”

“And you. How are your wife and child?

At the mention of his family, a touch of sincere affection coloured the man’s voice.

“Very well, thanking all the Gods. My son has just started his classes with a tutor, the man says he has never had a cleverer pupil.” he said, before smiling sweetly at his cousin - the sort of smile one could expect from a snake ready to gape its jaws “And what about you, dear cousin? No man in your life… and no child in your womb?”

“Not for the time being, no.”

“You should hurry. After all you’re no longer a girl, am I wrong? I thought you’d be more interested in the future of your feud… even though I understand it’s not always easy to find the right person, when one is not exactly… well, of course there’s nothing wrong with having high standards…”

(name)’s expression had turned to ice; clearly she was used to her cousin’s subtle cruelty, but Mihawk could see the hurt in her eyes. 

“Did you spend your afternoon working in a construction site?” Theon insisted, before (name) could utter an equally biting answer.

The dress the woman had chosen that day was one Mihawk had seen her wearing more than once; she looked lovely -and oh, how deliciously she filled it, the shape of her body caressed by the fabric- but neither her nor Mihawk had noticed there were traces of plaster dust on her skirt and sleeves, no doubt a residue picked up at the museum’s site.

“Let’s say that is my new hobby. To be honest, I’m quite busy these days; unfortunately not all of us can spend our time hunting in the woods and playing chess.” she answered sweetly, without even attempting to hide or clean the dirt on her dress “Duties of the heir, you will understand. Or maybe not.”

Mihawk felt a smile tug at his lips; meeting the lady Veressa’s eyes, he saw the older woman hide her own amusement behind a hand. Theon, on his part, went red in the face; like all cowards, Mihawk thought, he enjoyed making fun of others, but was unable to defend his own honour when he was the one attacked.

“Theon, I don’t think you’ve ever met our guest.” the lady Veressa intervened, stepping closer to rest a reassuring hand on her daughter’s back “Meet Dracule Mihawk.”

Theon blinked; only then he seemed to notice the presence of the tall, menacing man in black next to his cousin. “Dracule Mihawk? That Dracule Mihawk?” he asked, disbelief evident in his voice “One of the Seven Warlords of the Sea?”

“I am not aware of another man with my name.” Mihawk replied, his tone icy. Theon gulped; both Mihawk and the two women saw him eye the man in front of him, and then the huge black sword hanging from his back.

“What… what are you doing here? Don’t tell me the Marines sent you…”

“I am not here on business; I am (name)’s guest.”

“Mihawk and I have known each other for many years.” the woman interjected, moving in turn marginally closer to the man; Mihawk felt her fingers brush against his “He’s a good friend.”

“R-really? I… had no idea…”

“I admire your cousin’s ability with a gun; I have seen her shooting a man between his eyes from a hundred and twenty feet away. Do you remember, (name)?”

“I most certainly do. It wasn’t a criminal I had been assigned to capture by the Marines.” she replied innocently, her hand now brushing against her faithful derringer, hanging from her waist in its holster “It was just someone who was irritating me and should have minded his own business.”

Theon gulped. He looked at (name) as if he was seeing her for the first time, seriously wondering if the woman would actually shoot him, rules of hospitality and familiar bond be damned; then his gaze moved to Mihawk, and even though he had just met him Theon did not doubt for a second the pirate would happily slice him without a moment of hesitation. 

“W-well, that’s interesting. I hope we’ll have time to talk some more at dinner… now, if you excuse me, I need to… you know…”

He quickly retreated towards the door; (name) almost didn’t wait for him to be out of earshot before laughing. “What an asshole!”

“(name), language.”

“I’m sorry, mother. But Theon really deserved it; one day I’ll use him for target practice!”

The lady Veressa giggled; she smiled gratefully at Mihawk, who silently bowed his head in response, and took her leave.

“Before I forget; your cousin has brought you a gift.” she added before departing, nodding in the direction of a large box placed on a nearby table “I don’t ask you to like it, but you should at least see what it is.”

(name) promised she would; she waited for her mother to leave, then she smiled at Mihawk, and after a moment of hesitation she took both of his hands in hers - a chaste, completely uncompromising contact, that nonetheless filled the swordsman’s heart with a feeling he struggled to find a name for. 

“Thank you.” she murmured “I’m sorry you had to deal with my cousin, but… thank you for supporting me.”

“You seemed perfectly capable of putting him in his place by yourself.”

“I am; I have been practising since I was maybe six. But having you near… made me feel stronger; safer, even. I’m sorry, you’ll think I’m an idiot, a weak woman who needs a man to protect her…”

Mihawk huffed. “I could never consider you weak, (name).” he murmured as he delicately caressed the back of her left hand with his thumb; his heart was pounding, hard enough it almost hurt “Nor could anyone who knows you. You must be one of the strongest people I know.”

Again that shy, grateful smile and Gods, Mihawk was this close to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. “Well, that is a great compliment, coming from one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.” she said “Anyway, I’m happy you are here, Mihawk.”

“I’m happy as well. Truly.” Mihawk answered softly. For a whole minute neither of the two moved, or spoke; they both looked down at their clasped hands, and then their eyes met. 

The world stopped turning. 

(name) was the first to look away; Mihawk was almost sure she had blushed. “Well, I should take a look at this gift; I bet Theon has chosen the least tasteful thing he could find.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… baby clothes, maybe? In the hope you’ll soon need these…”

“If he has done that I swear I’ll carve his heart out with Yoru.” Mihawk promised; Theon didn’t know (name) couldn’t have children, but still he had to have realised how painful the fact that she was yet to give an heir to her feud was for her “And I’ll offer it to you on a silver plate.”

The woman grinned as she left his hands to walk to the small table the box had been placed on. “Now that is a gift I would appreciate… oh. Oh, would you look at this…”

This was the content of the box, that (name) had quickly opened; a vase, its upper lip roughly as wide as a serving dish, from which a single tall flower rose on a long, thin stem, surrounded by a bed of tiny green leaves. The flower was closed, its bright pink petals secured around the central head; Mihawk knew vaguely the process had the purpose to protect the flower at times when pollinating insects were dormant. 

“It is… nice.” (name) almost reluctantly admitted “I mean, I don’t particularly like flowers, but… what’s wrong?” she added, seeing that Mihawk had frowned “What’s so weird about gifting flowers to a woman?”

“Nothing, I assume. It’s just… I think I have seen this flower already.”

“Where?”

“It was an illustration on a book; it was Shanks’, I saw it the last time we met. I can’t remember what it said, but there was something strange about this flower.”

“Is it dangerous?” (name) asked, clearly intrigued “Is it one of those carnivorous plants that eat any creature that comes close to them? Maybe Theon hopes I will keep it on my nightstand, and at night as I sleep the plant will come alive and devour me…”

The flower, still and barely a foot tall, didn’t look particularly threatening, but Mihawk wasn’t convinced; (name) seemed sure her cousin, unpleasant and resentful as he was, would not try to seriously hurt her, but he decided it was better to be safe than sorry. 

As usual, he was wearing the Kogatana on his neck, the deceptively small knife resting against his chest; Mihawk took it out of his sheath. “Stand back.”

“What are you doing? Mihawk, it’s a flower, you don’t seriously think…?”

“Stand back, please.” he insisted, and (name), clearly perplexed, obeyed. Mihawk slowly extended the knife towards the plant; he didn’t dare thinking about how ridiculous he had to look in that moment, pointing his weapon against an opponent whose kind was routinely cut to be made into bouquets and wreaths, but his instinct said he better be on his guard, if only to avoid (name) or the lady Veressa to fall into some kind of danger. If only he could remember what that book had to say about this flower…

Nothing happened as Mihawk let the blade of the Kogatana slowly approach the flower; then, when the tip of the blade was half a foot from it, the small plant seemed to quiver, as if it had perceived the presence of a threat. Slowly, its petals opened, and Mihawk and (name) found themselves staring at what looked like a pale yellow eye, surrounded by pink lashes.

“It’s lovely.” the woman murmured “I can’t believe Theon would gift me something like this…”  

A moment later two things happened in rapid succession, too fast for the two to be able to react. First, the tip of the dagger -tiny, but sharp enough to cut through a person’s body, if handled with sufficient strength- touched the flower head, that trembled again, as if in pain, and then, lighting fast, a shower of pollen erupted out of it, hitting Mihawk in the face.

“What the…?”

“Oh, Gods!” (name) cried; she quickly retrieved a handkerchief from her pocket, and used it to clean the grains from the swordsman’s face “Mihawk, I’m so sorry… are you alright?”

He thought about it for a moment, gently taking the handkerchief from her hand to clean himself; the smell of the pollen was too intense for his liking, unpleasant after he had breathed some of it, but the sensation was not painful… even if it did make him sneeze. 

“I’m fine.” he reassured her in the end “That had to be the flower’s defence strategy, a way to ward off predators. Curious…”

(name) frowned. “Clearly this is what Theon wanted; to pull a stupid prank on me, like that time when he was fourteen that he hid a lizard in my jewel case to scare me. He clearly hasn’t matured since then… I’m sorry you got involved…”

“No harm done, truly.”

A moment of embarrassment passed through them; Mihawk felt his fingers touch (name)’s as he returned the handkerchief to her. “Maybe your cousin should remember that, just like this flower, you also know how to defend yourself when someone threatens you.” he said, more gently than most people had ever heard him talk.

“Yes; maybe he should…”

A moment later, a valet entered, to announce (name) was expected at an audience she had granted to a few members of the court; the woman sighed, clearly unhappy she had to leave.

“I’ll see you at dinner, alright?” she asked Mihawk “Thank you for being with me today, I spent a lovely afternoon.”

“As I said, you are an excellent hostess.”

“Such a flatterer…!”

She smiled at him, now neither shy nor embarrassed, before leaving, stopping just to tell the valet to make sure her guest was well looked after in her absence; Mihawk couldn’t help following the movement of her hips, the delicate fabric of her skirt hugging her curves, as the woman walked away.

The valet bowed. “Is there anything I can do for you, sir?” he asked; a moment of reflection, and Mihawk shook his head in response.

“No.” he answered softly, more to himself than to the man in livery in front of him “I have everything I need already.”

*

Mihawk’s feelings for (name) had succeeded in what no opponent had been able to do in his life since he was maybe seventeen: they had snuck up on him, slowly growing in his heart unnoticed, and then revealing themselves once they had been too intense for the swordsman to be able to deny or suppress them.

The realisation had caught him off guard, since he had never given too much thought to love and feelings in general; he had never had a serious relationship in his life, and since he had reached adulthood the occasional night spent with a woman whose name he promptly forgot -or never cared to learn- had been enough to satisfy his needs. It wasn’t that he didn’t like women, because he did; he simply had never found one interesting enough to attract his attention for more than a few hours spent in an inn room.

In hindsight, he should have imagined (name) would be the one to break down his defences, if only because she had no idea she had done so, nor had she even tried to endear herself to him beyond mere friendship.

But she had. Gods, she had, and for months now Mihawk had felt his heartbeat accelerate every time (name) smiled at him. There hadn’t been a specific moment his feelings had grown beyond the pleasant, firm and deep friendship he and the woman had built in so many years to indisputably, irrevocably fall in the realm of romanticism. It had simply happened that one morning Mihawk had woken up in his bedroom at home on Kuraigana Island, and instead of getting out of it to quickly begin his day as he usually did, he had lingered for a while, looking at the other half of the double mattress and thinking how lovely, how right, it would have been if (name) had been there, sleeping soundly with her hair spread on the pillow or already awake, about to smile at him and wish him good morning with a kiss. That had been enough to make him realise he was lost already, completely and utterly enamoured, and for the first time in his life he didn’t know what to do.

While he hadn’t expected his feelings for her to change, Mihawk wasn’t surprised (name) had been the one his heart had turned to. They had been good friends -she was maybe the only one he had apart from Shanks, which was two friends beyond what Mihawk expected to have or felt the need for- for so long, and the swordsman sincerely respected her: (name) was clever, strong-willed, determined in pursuing her goals and didn’t let anyone doubt or demean her on account of her gender or origins. She could have lived a tranquil, privileged life on her island, far from danger and surrounded by the comforts she was entitled to as the lady’s daughter; instead, she had spent her youth learning to shoot, first taught by her grandfather and later on her own, and then she had become a mercenary and bounty-hunter -and an exceptionally capable one at that- spending her time tracking down pirates and other criminals to bring back to the Marines. Most of the berry she earned with the bounties were spent for the good of her home and people; she didn’t do it for the money, rather to prove how capable and resilient she was and could be, not only a noblewoman destined to rule over a small but wealthy feud, but a capable markswoman no one could afford to underestimate or challenge lightly. Mihawk admired her for that; he respected her intelligence, the quiet strength anyone who met her couldn’t help perceiving, and the way she had to fight for what she believed in and considered important, be it refusing to back off in an argument or pointing the barrel of her derringer against the temple of a killer and telling them to plan their first move carefully if they didn’t want to end up with a bullet in their head. 

And she was beautiful. He had thought that since their first meeting, how could he have not? (name) was simply gorgeous, even not considering the practical elegance she dressed with, the comfortable but refined dresses she liked to wear that only accentuated her natural charm, even though Mihawk was sure he would find her enchanting whatever she wore - or didn’t wear. He wasn’t the only one to find her good-looking; while (name) had confided him she felt completely incapable of flirting or making romantic advances, many victims had fallen prey to her captivating smile, not imagining that the pretty woman who looked so interested in what they had to say was already clenching the butt of a gun under the table, and Mihawk had once heard Garp mention that in the years of her collaboration with the Marines at least two officers had -unsuccessfully- asked her out. 

Yes, he had always thought she was attractive, but since he had become aware of his own feelings for her, Mihawk found he couldn’t stop looking at (name), and that his appreciation no longer stopped at the beauty of her smile or her elegance, but had started drifting towards other parts of her body. The morbid curve of her chest under her corset, the way her hips swayed while she walked, and the way her shapely -he had no way to know for sure, but he was sure they were; they had to be harmonious and well-proportioned, nothing that was part of her couldn’t not be- legs peeked out from under her skirt when a gust of wind lifted it… She was just so lovely, so exquisite in her natural sensuality, and every simple touch between them, even just his hand holding hers when he helped her dismount from the carriage, was enough to give him palpitations.

He couldn’t take it anymore; that situation was driving him crazy, worst of all because (name) had no idea of the effect she had on him. The fact that the woman had invited him on her island for a few days -or more, if you want; you can stay as long as you wish, you know I like having you here- had pleased Mihawk immensely, since it meant spending plenty of time with her, alone, but keeping his emotions in check in her presence got harder by the hour. (name) had already asked him if he was alright twice, which meant she had noticed his behaviour was somehow odd or unnatural; if he didn’t do something soon, Mihawk reflected, he would end up making a fool of himself, a problem for which he could see only one solution…

He had to declare his feelings for (name); he had to confess how much he cared for her, how special and beautiful and precious he thought she was. He had to tell her he was in love with her, that there was not a moment in which she was not in his thoughts, and in his heart, and that while he had always felt content and satisfied alone, with few people he tolerated and even fewer that he enjoyed spending time with, he had come to wish she would share her days, perhaps even her life, with him, an exclusive bond made of loyalty and affection and respect and yes, pleasure as well. He could make her happy, Mihawk was sure of it, and if he were lucky enough to discover his feelings were reciprocated, he would make sure the woman forgot any other man she had ever met or been with.

The problem was, he had no idea whether (name) cared for him like he did for her, and in that case, if she would actually be interested in a relationship. She was clearly fond of him, and enjoyed their time spent together, but that didn’t necessarily mean she could see him as a potential partner - as a lover. Like Mihawk the woman mostly kept to herself, at least while on the island, mainly to maintain her good name and avoid gossip about her love life, and occasionally took a lover while away on vacation or travelling around for her mercenary assignments, relationships she invariably abandoned after a few days at most. The arrangement seemed to suit her just fine; who knew if she would be interested in something else, in a more committed relationship? Maybe she was, just not with him, because she did only see him as a friend and wasn’t attracted to him at all…

Also, there were (name)’s duties towards her feud and people to consider. The lady Veressa was in excellent health, but sooner or later she would have to take her place as lady of the island, which would mean abandoning her activity as a mercenary and remain at the fortress to take care of her people and land. Children were regrettably something she didn’t have to worry about, but who knew if she would approve of him as her consort? (name) was not the sort of woman who judged people on their origins and he knew she valued his intelligence and strength of character, but perhaps she wanted someone different to share her responsibilities, someone who was born on the same island as her or at least who knew what it meant caring for a family of more than a thousand people. Mihawk himself wasn’t sure he could see himself in that role, given his intense preference for solitude and relative disinterest for what happened for most other people. 

Maybe they, or at least their inclinations and ambitions in life, were too different for him and (name) to be compatible as a couple; maybe the woman was not, and would never be, attracted to him. Simply considering that hypothesis was painful, especially because Mihawk knew finding out they wanted different things from their rapport would most likely mean the end of their friendship.

Nonetheless, he couldn’t remain silent; his feelings were too intense, too encompassing, too deep and real to keep them secret. He was already happy with (name) in his life, but what he really wanted, what he craved, was to have her by his side, to share his feelings with her as well as his thoughts and his time; he wanted to know no other man existed for her, because no other woman could ever exist for him. Perhaps his friend expected he would confess his feelings first, as was tradition for men to do, perhaps she had simply never thought about him as a potential partner and lover; that was fine, and he was confident he could change her mind. All he needed was a chance, just one, to show her how happy he could make her, how much pleasure and joy and empathy they could create and feel together…

*

Mihawk sighed as he closed the door behind him and contemplated the spacious chamber he had slept in for the last two nights. The bedroom his host had had prepared for him was almost as large as the one he slept in at his home, elegant and comfortable, with a lovely view of the city’s harbour out of the thickly curtained window; Mihawk had even heard a servant mention that (name) had requested the furniture moved to better suit his tastes, a consideration that had flattered the swordsman - even though he could not avoid thinking how even more pleasant it would have been to share that ridiculously large bed -but the mattress was firm, just like he liked it; he wondered if his friend had thought about that as well- with her, or to sleep in hers.

Nevertheless, not even the simple opulence of his apartment could comfort Mihawk at the moment; he had made a fool of himself in front of (name) with that stupid flower, and while she wasn’t the sort of person who would make fun of him, he could have taken advantage of that moment of intimacy after her mother had left to tell her about his feelings. He hadn’t thought about that -something he felt he would reproach himself for a long time- and this was already the third day of his sojourn on the island; even though (name) had told him he was welcome to stay for as long as he wanted, he had decided he would confess his feelings for her before leaving, and the time at his disposal was starting to run short.

But how? Could he start by asking her if there was someone important in her life, or if she ever thought about settling down with a partner who would one day help her rule over her island? Or was it better to invite her for a walk, make sure they were alone, and tell her he couldn’t stop thinking about her and he would give half of his blood just to know she cared for him as well? Or perhaps the right thing to do was to knock at her door at night, pick her up to carry her to her bed, and prove (name) beyond any reasonable doubt she was his already and he was his as he made her scream his name…?

He had no idea. Still a reasonably young man, Mihawk had done and seen more in his life than many people could even dream, but this was completely new for him - a veritable leap in the dark, and while the word fear simply didn’t exist in his vocabulary, he had to admit he felt… anxious at the prospect of discovering whether (name) shared his feelings or not, a mix of trepidation and worry he had never felt before…

A small but elegant desk was positioned in front of the window, with a set of writing instruments neatly placed on the wooden surface in the event the lady’s guest wanted to pass a message or leave a request for the servants. Looking at the small stack of white sheets, Mihawk felt more foolish than ever; writing a love letter was something shy boys did, which he was not, or men whose ladylove was physically distant from them, while his slept no more than a dozen paces from him. Furthermore, (name) deserved better than that; she deserved a declaration she would remember for the rest of her life, a confession that made her feel as special, precious and splendid as he thought she was, and he would give it to her; he would give her everything she needed and wanted, and the only thing he wanted in return was her heart.

He felt strangely tired all of a sudden, but not exactly the way he did at the end of a long training session; rather, it was a weird, uncomfortable drowsiness that had fallen on him like a wet blanket, making it hard for the swordsman to focus. Was he coming down with a fever? He had no reason to believe that, but he was sure he would feel better after he had rested for a while; he had plenty of time before dinner… but there was something else he wanted to do first.

Mihawk was sincerely glad no one could see him as he retrieved three sheets of paper and a pen from the desk and brought them to the bed, together with a book to use as a support. He would not confess his feelings to the woman he loved in writing, but perhaps it could help him to decide how to… address the issue.

My darling (name)

(name), there is something important I need to

Since the day I met you, I have known you were special

I’ve never felt anything like what I feel for you

Mihawk sighed; all those words, and the feelings they described, corresponded to the truth, but at the same time they felt reductive, because not even the greatest poet in the world could describe the depth and intensity of his love for (name); he sighed, partly discouraged but still determined to find the right words.

I love you. I have loved you for a long time, and if you gave me a chance to

I dream to hold you in my arms and kiss you until we both can’t breathe

I want to worship your beautiful body and to make you scream my name

I need to fuck you senseless and feel your wet pussy clench around me

Mihawk blinked, staring uncomprehendingly at the piece of paper in front of him - specifically, at the last lines written in the elegant cursive his older sister had taught him to write in, a lifetime ago. Yes, that was without a doubt his calligraphy, and the pen was still in his hand, but he couldn’t believe he had actually written those words. Embarrassed, irrationally fearing (name) could somehow find and read them, he looked at the empty fireplace in the room and tore the sheet of paper into tiny pieces, making it impossible for anyone to read his incriminating desires.

What in the world was he thinking? Yes, he was attracted to (name) and he had fantasised about them together -what man worthy of the name wouldn’t? How could he look at her, at the shape of her beautiful body under her dress and not wish he could ravish her, feel her writhe under his body and stimulate her with his mouth?- but this was not how he wanted her to know! Mihawk was in love with her, a much deeper and more lasting feeling than a passing infatuation or the simple impulse to find relief between her legs; sensible and mature as she was, (name) was not the sort of woman who would faint or react running away if a man propositioned her, and he did plan on showing her how irresistibly arousing he found her body. But to convince her of his feelings, and that they could be happy together, was Mihawk’s first and foremost goal.

And he would accomplish it soon. But first he did need to rest for a while, the swordsman reflected as he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. Despite the pleasant breeze coming in through the open window he felt uncomfortably hot, his head swimming to the point the furniture of the room appeared blurred to his eyes; all of a sudden he felt as if he had been awake for five days.

I’ll tell her soon. Today, if I can; but not now. Now, I have to sleep.

He left Yoru propped against the wall, and the Kogatana on the table next to the paper and pens; he quickly got rid of his coat and boots, for once not caring where he left them.  Mihawk sighed as his head fell into the pillow - not too soft just like he liked it; he heard the birds sing on the branches of the trees in the garden.

He fell asleep with her name on his lips.

[chahnniesroom]

tenderness | chapter 9: a time to learn

[noun] /ˈtendərnəs/

1. the quality of being gentle, kind, or loving

2. the feeling of pain, aching, or soreness

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: in a world where soulmates are rare and precious, you don’t know why the universe has decided to give you one. you never could have imagined that they would be an idol, and one that you worked with at that, or the challenges that would arise from your bond.

chapter word count: 6.8k

chapter warnings: injury recovery, lots of emotions happening

a/n: no words can describe how difficult this chapter was to write haha i apologise for some of the transitions between scenes and also for the fact that i did not proofread more than a cursory skim.

i am not a doctor and i did minimal research on anything medical related

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter | read it on ao3

Chan’s not a doctor and he’s never wanted to be one. But the longer that he spends in the hospital, the more he wishes there was something he could do to help. He knows that in a way, his presence is helping. The doctor tells him that for injuries, a soulmate bond is actually beneficial because sufficient Charge can increase healing times. 

The doctor also explains that the more serious injury is the initial stab wound. The blade had damaged Y/n’s liver, which had required surgery and now demands constant monitoring. It was the main reason that Y/n would have to stay in the hospital for an extended period of time. While the second wound was larger and required more stitches, it was fairly shallow and was expected to heal without any issues. 

As expected, there’s various bruises from the fall, but what surprises Chan is that he’s told Y/n is suffering from a mild concussion. When he had watched the footage that he had saved from social media, he could see that Y/n may have hit her head, but it hadn’t seemed that hard.

It means that Chan hasn’t left the hospital yet. It doesn’t really help that Y/n was specifically brought to the hospital that her father owns and that she’s situated in one of the nicest rooms available. With a large private bathroom, a separate room that has a few couches and low tables to entertain guests, and a large bed that’s almost more comfortable than the one Chan has at home, there’s no reason to leave. Yonghwan has been going back to the dorms to collect clothes and other personal items, like Chan’s laptop and some equipment. After a few days, the boys are allowed to visit too, although only in small groups and for short periods of time. 

Chan kind of hates the medications that Y/n is put on. He knows that she needs them to deal with the pain, to protect her from infection, it's just difficult to witness how they make her woozy and extremely tired, drifting in and out of consciousness. When she is awake, her thoughts are scattered, she can’t concentrate for long periods of time, and she spends most of the time watching Chan as he works or dozing.

It's a relief when she's finally weaned off of the ones that have the worst side effects. 

Although she gets her phone back pretty soon after waking, Y/n doesn’t really touch it until her doctor lets her know that her concussion has healed and she’s been cleared to look at screens without any limitations. Chan has helped her with messaging some of her friends and family, but she seems pleased to have full access to her phone again. Chan leaves her to catch up on everything, taking out his laptop and opening up a track that he’s been trying half-heartedly to finish a first draft of. 

He gets pulled away from his work a couple hours later when Y/n calls his name. She’s biting at her lip and staring with a furrowed brow at something on her phone. He immediately sets aside his laptop and turns to face her, trying not to worry.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Did you- I saw-” Y/n takes a second to gather herself and then flips her phone to show him what she’s looking at. It’s a Twitter fanpage, dedicated to Chan’s Bubble subscription. The last tweets are the updates to his profile picture, background photo, name, and status.

He did it in a fit of anger, knowing it was about as much as he could do without getting in trouble with the company. He wouldn’t dare send any messages about the incident, especially ones that could be twisted the wrong way and end up hurting Y/n, but he couldn’t just sit and pretend everything was okay.

So he deleted it all. Or, rather as much as he could. Replacing the pictures with solid black, leaving the status line empty. He didn’t have as much freedom with his name, but left it as “찬“ and nothing more. He hadn’t sent anything since then, either.

The other members hadn’t changed anything on their profile, but they too had been subdued in their messaging. The first couple of days, they did nothing. After that, Changbin, Jisung, and Felix joined Chan in the continued radio silence. Hyunjin had sent pictures of the sunset, when it was Y/n’s favourite time of the day and the clouds were painted pink against the blue background of the sky. Minho, Seungmin, and Jeongin had messaged only a couple times since then, reminders for Stays to eat well, get lots of rest, and stay safe.

There hadn’t been an official statement released by the company, but news of the incident had spread like wildfire.

“And yesterday was Sunday,” Y/n says slowly. “You were here the whole time, what about Channie’s Room?”

“What about it?”

“You didn’t do it?” When Chan just shrugs in response, Y/n’s brow creases like she’s trying to figure out some sort of puzzle. “What? But you… You always do it. Did the company tell you that you can't?”

“No, they didn't have to. I already let them know I wasn't going to."

"Then why?"

“I didn’t want to. I don’t want to,” Chan says sullenly, even though the explanation makes him feel like a toddler who doesn’t want to share their toys.

“What do you mean? It’s- You promised Stays! Here you can go now, just go to your studio and do a short live. If this is some sort of roundabout punishment for what happened-”

“I don’t want to,” Chan repeats. “All they’re going to do is spam the chat with questions about what happened. I don’t want to deal with that and honestly I don’t know if I can go through that without blowing up on them.”

"But-"

"Is it really so hard to believe that I have had other priorities the past few days? That I don't want to have to pretend that everything is okay?"

Y/n seems to soften at that. Chan reaches out and he catches her hand in his, mindful of the tape and IV that’s attached to it. The Charge warms between them.

“No, no, I’m sorry. It’s-” she hesitates for a moment. “I’m glad that you’re taking a break. Sorry if it felt like I was pressuring you.”

“You weren’t. Everything that I’m doing, it’s my decision. I know everything has been pretty overwhelming lately, but you’re-”

Before he can finish, the door to their room slides open and a nurse steps in to serve them dinner. 

“What were you going to say?” Y/n asks once they’re alone again.

“I don’t remember anymore,” Chan lies. “So it probably wasn’t that important. Let’s eat.”

Chan’s almost glad for the interruption. The moment is gone now and Chan’s just now realising that he has no idea how Y/n would react if he had said what he wanted. That she was his biggest priority right now. That he cares about her. That he would do anything for her. 

He’ll do that later, when they’re at home. When everything has calmed down.

—

Chan wakes to the loud smack of someone’s hand against a table. His face is burrowed into the soft fabric covering Y/n’s shoulder, his arm is wrapped around her waist, and the whole length of his body relaxed by the warm thrum of the Charge. He cracks open one eye and, after seeing that neither Y/n nor Eunsung, who was the source of the noise, have seemed to notice, quickly closes it to feign sleep. 

When Eunsung speaks, his tone is exasperated, like he’s had this conversation multiple times before.

“Are you even listening to yourself? You can’t keep doing this. You have to talk to him about it,” he insists. “The doctor said you have acute fatigue and the only reason it’s getting better is because the two of you are practically glued together right now. The second that he starts going back to schedules, it’s going to be the same as it was before.”

“I was doing fine before,” Y/n defends herself. “Things just got so busy with all the concerts, I forgot to eat enough. As long as I make sure that I’m getting enough calories, it makes up for the Charge. I promise, I'll make sure to take better care of myself."

Chan has no clue what they’re talking about. Acute fatigue? Y/n not eating enough? Chan hasn’t heard anything on these before.

"I don't think you understand. It's not about you doing things to take better care of yourself, it's about him not letting you take care of yourself. If you Charged for at least 6 hours a day then you wouldn't have to worry about eating more than you used to. You shouldn't have to be making up for anything," Eunsung argues.

"Listen, Eunsung-oppa," she says. "I know you're saying this because you're concerned, but I know what I'm doing. This is… This is bigger than just Chan-ssi and I. He's not just my soulmate, he's the leader of Stray Kids, a producer for 3RACHA. It's- The work that he does- What I see on Twitter, the comments on Youtube, the posts on community. He has the power to reach so many people and make lives better. And he does. He’s such a good person. How can I do anything but support him in any way I can? Even if that means letting him push himself without stepping in, then I'll do it. I trust that he knows his own limits."

“And if that means him ignoring your limits?”

“Eunsung-oppa-” Y/n protests.

"You've talked to him about it," Eunsung interrupts her, clearly able to read something in her tone of voice.

"Yeah, I- I understand how you feel, being on that side of it. I thought that I could convince him, but it turns out that he convinced me instead."

"But the conversation you were having, it was about him taking care of himself instead of you prioritising your needs, wasn't it?" he presses. Y/n confirms, but it sounds reluctant. 

“He didn’t want to hear it. He was… I don’t know. I don’t want to say what he said to me.”

“And he never brought it up again?”

“He did, kind of. He said sorry the next day. And I know he’s sorry. I know some of the things that he said were just in the heat of the moment. I get it, I really do. He was stressed, tired, we probably weren’t getting enough Charge, even then. But… It hurt. What he said,” Y/n says, her voice small. “What he really meant. It still hurts a little, every time I think about it. Every time I see him.”

"Sometimes you two are too similar. You’re both just pretending you’re fine, but you’re not. I know Chan, maybe not as well as you, but in a different way. He’s not the type to just let this type of thing slide. As much as I hate him right now for making you hurt, if he doesn’t know that you’re hurting, then there’s no way that things will be fixed. I think you need to talk again, if he cares about you at all then he wouldn't just let this go."

"I think you're overestimating our relationship a bit."

"What? Even after the past few months, you guys aren't close?"

“I’m not delusional, I never had fantasies of us immediately falling in love like in the movies or shows, I just,” she shrugs with the shoulder the Chan wasn’t curled up against. “I don’t know, I just thought that we could be friends or something.”

“You wouldn't even consider yourself to be friends?” Eunsung says in a low voice.

“Actually, at one point I did think we were friends… or maybe more,” Y/n admits with a hollow laugh. “I was wrong. His attitude keeps changing, I can’t keep track of it. One second he’s annoyed at me for nagging him and the next he’s carrying me to bed because I fell asleep on the couch. But wherever we’re arguing, it feels like it’s always my fault. And I know, I know that I’m hard to be around. It’s just hard. The moments of… care, they were an illusion. It was all fake, like kids playing house. He can tolerate me of course, but in the end, I'm just someone he works with.”

"You don't think that if he were to hear what you're saying, he would be sad?" Eunsung asks. Y/n stays silent for a while.

“I don't know. What he said to me. I thought a lot about it. I- I want to make his life better, but I think… I think I make it worse. I don’t understand why we’re soulmates, I can think of a million people who would be better for him than me,” she finally confesses, voice sounding wet.

Eunsung shifts forward, but before he can speak, a nurse knocks on the door and lets herself in. It’s enough noise that Chan takes it as an opportunity to pretend to wake up. When Y/n notices, she looks back towards the nurse and quickly sits up straighter so that Chan's arm naturally falls away from where it’s wrapped around her.

“I think you should go to the company, Chan-ssi,” Y/n suggests after the nurse has finished redressing her wound and has left. Her voice is back to normal, upbeat even, and if Chan hadn't been awake then he wouldn't have been able to tell she had just been in a heavy conversation. It’s scary how easily she can mask her emotions. “I don’t want you to fall behind because of all the time you’ve been spending here. Eunsung is already heading there, he can give you a ride.”

“What am I, a chauffeur?” Eunsung mutters, but he stands up and gathers his things without waiting for an answer. “Come on, let’s go.”

Normally, Chan would protest being ordered around, but at this point he’s just grateful to have some space to process what he just heard. He knows that Minho and Jisung were planning to visit soon and that Felix would be dropping by shortly after, so at least he feels somewhat comfortable leaving Y/n alone. He feels lightheaded and… bad in a way that he can’t describe. It's different than when he first found out that Y/n was hurt. Now it's almost like he’s dissociating, but worse because having an out-of-body experience would be better than the heavy press of emotions that he feels now. It’s clogging up his airways and all he can do is focus on following Eunsung out of the room.

Chan hasn’t had many opportunities to interact with Eunsung, but he knows for sure that they were never as tense as they are right now. It’s understandable though, after what he just heard. When Chan starts toward the lane where he usually gets picked up and dropped off, Eunsung instead steers him toward the parkade. 

“This way, superstar. Unlike you, I actually have the freedom to drive myself.” Chan barely notices the thinly veiled jab, he’s still reeling from the conversation. He can’t think of a comeback and really, doesn’t feel like he deserves to give a rebuttal.

When they finally stop in front of a car, Chan catches himself right before reaching for the back car door instead of the one to sit shotgun. 

The pair sit in silence for the first half of the ride, until Eunsung finally speaks up.

“You know, you don’t deserve her,” Eunsung says, eyes trained on the road ahead.

“And you do?” Chan fires back, thinking of all the rumours he’s heard from the rest of the staff, the giggles he hears whenever Eunsung interacts with Y/n. Although his guilt is creeping up and clouding his thoughts, his first instincts are to feel defensive.

Y/n is his soulmate, not Eunsung’s.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, I’ve seen how close the two of you are.” He tries hard to not sound too accusatory, but instead his words come out as overly bitter.

"Yeah, we're friends."

"And is that all you want to be?"

In response, Eunsung just laughs incredulously. “What? Even you thought- You think that I like Y/n? I’m-” He can’t even finish his thoughts before he starts to laugh again. “Of course I like her, but she’s like a sister to me.” 

“Of course you would say that-”

“I’m married, Chan."

"What?" Chan exclaims. "But, but everyone was saying you- I thought- Who are you married to?"

"Saerom. I've definitely mentioned her before, I know for sure that Y/n has too."

“Oh,” he says dumbly, “I thought- I thought Saerom was the name of your dog.”

"What?!" Eunsung turns to gape at Chan.

“How was I supposed to know? You said you have to take her on walks otherwise she gets too restless, you talk about buying her treats! You said she doesn’t like it when you’re travelling for too long, it sounds like how Berry gets when the family goes on vacation. Just because she has a human name doesn't mean she is a human. I've never seen a picture of her either."

“Oh, I cannot wait to tell Y/n about this.” Eunsung continues to laugh while Chan hides his face in his hands. His cheeks feel like they’re on fire. He’s relieved that Eunsung isn’t secretly in love with Y/n but also mortified that he thought his wife was a dog. At this point, opening the car door and flinging himself out doesn’t sound like a bad idea to get himself out of this conversation.

“You don’t wear a ring,” he says, probably digging himself further into the hole he’s currently in.

In response, Eunsung hooks a finger under the collar of his shirt and pulls out a chain, a ring dangling on the end of it. They turn into the company parking lot and Eunsung kills the engine, turning to face Chan directly.

“Chan-ssi,” he says seriously. “I know that there are rumours about a relationship between Y/n and I. She knows about them too. I’m not deaf to the chatter or the way they react when we’re together. Just, is it really so bad if people suspect that the two of us are soulmates? And I’m not saying this because I enjoy all the rumours. It’s because I know that they mask any sort of interactions that you have with her. If any other staff finds out that you’ve been visiting her in the hospital, they wouldn’t think anything of it other than you being concerned because she’s a manager and you were right there when it happened.”

Even though Chan doesn’t like the idea, he knows that Eunsung is right. It’s safer this way. He just has to get used to swallowing the possessive part of him that wants to publicly declare his soulmate bond. He can do this if it means protecting Y/n.

“You’re right,” Chan says quietly.

“I know all of this must be hard for you and even harder if you didn’t know about Saerom. Just know, we’d never do anything outside of being friends, I promise. If you don’t trust me, then at least trust Y/n. And,” he hesitates for a moment. “I know you heard our conversation earlier.”

“What?”

“I saw when you woke up. You’re not as good of an actor as you think you are, but luckily for you, I don’t think Y/n noticed.”

“I- I really messed things up, didn’t I?” Chan says, feeling defeated.

“I’ll be honest, it’s going to be difficult, fixing your relationship. Y/n is very independent. It’s definitely one of her strengths, but it’s also a big weakness. She doesn’t ask for help, even if she needs it and she’s very hard on herself. You know her family, she’s used to doing things on her own. She’s trying her best with this whole soulmate situation and she was really opening up. She trusted you.”

The past tense in his sentence shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

“You hurt her,” Eunsung continues. “But I know Y/n will forgive you. She cares about you, a lot. If it wasn’t obvious by… everything that has happened so far. You just have to talk to her.”

“I- Thank you, Eunsung,” Chan finally says. “Thank you for being there for her, for helping with all of… this. I’m sorry.”

“You’re a good person, Chan-ssi. I want things to work out between the two of you.” Abruptly, Eunsung’s tone hardens. “But if you make a habit of hurting her, just know that sasaengs will be the least of your worries.”

—

Chan forces himself to try and be productive for at least an hour in his studio before resigning himself to the reality that he wouldn’t be able to get anything done with how distracted he is. He spends the whole time wishing that he was back at the hospital. 

Right as he’s about to call it a day, Jisung- who has just arrived after visiting Y/n and assures him that she’s still doing okay- and Changbin join him. They’ve actually been getting work done in the past few days and quickly run through the progress that they’ve made. Even with their presence, Chan’s attention span is practically non-existent. Everything seems to remind him of Y/n.

He ends up staying until the sun starts to set. When Changbin and Jisung start to discuss dinner options, he takes the opportunity to pack up his things.

“Hyung, are you not joining us?” Changbin asks.

“Sorry-” Chan starts saying.

“Hyung just wants to go and see Y/n again. He doesn’t care about us anymore,” Jisung whines playfully. 

“That’s not true!” Chan says indignantly.

“You don’t have to lie, just make it up to us.”

“Anything,” Chan agrees.

“Have dinner back at the dorms with us tomorrow,” Jisung says instantly. “You need to bring new clothes to the hospital anyway, you can save Yonghwan-hyung a trip this way.”

Chan realises this was his plan all along and reluctantly agrees. Logically, he knows that nothing will happen to Y/n while he’s away, he just feels better being able to see it with his own eyes.

—

When he gets back to the hospital, he’s surprised to find Y/n just staring blankly at the wall in front of her. She doesn’t react to the sound of the door opening or Chan’s greeting while he had closed it again. He approaches her cautiously, afraid of startling her, but still manages to make her jump when he gets into her field of vision.

“Oh!” she says breathlessly, putting a hand to her chest. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were back.” She automatically smiles at him.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, just had a weird day,” she says in that same strange voice she had back in Japan. Chan is starting to realise it means that she’s hiding something.

“Y/n-”

“Maybe it’s just because you were gone. Not to be clingy or anything, I’m glad that you were finally able to go to the company and get some real work done, but I’ve gotten used to having you attached to my side,” she jokes. It’d be convincing if her voice was more steady, if her smile reached her eyes.

“Uhm,” Chan says, not quite sure if he should pursue the topic further or go along with Y/n’s attempt to gloss over it. “I’m sorry, I promised that I’d go back for dinner tomorrow.”

Y/n rolls her eyes at that. “You don’t have to apologise for that! I’m glad that you’re finally getting to see them after being cooped up here. They're your family, you have to spend time with them.”

“I wasn’t forced to stay here though! I want to be here, I want to be with you. You're my family too,” Chan says earnestly. 

Y/n's lips press tightly together at that and she breaks eye contact.

“How about this, Eunsung-oppa was planning to come by tomorrow sometime anyway. He said that he’d bring me some non-hospital food and I couldn’t say no,” she says instead of responding to Chan’s comment. “Felix wanted to come by again too, so you can go home at the same time as him. I’ll tell Eunsung-oppa to come by around dinnertime so you don’t feel like you’re leaving me behind, is that okay?”

“Okay, but promise me that if anything happens then just call me and I’ll come back.”

“I promise.”

—

Dinner with the members is rowdy as usual, maybe even moreso. Chan doesn’t think much of it, happy to have a distraction from his thoughts, until he takes a second too long to respond to someone and catches a couple of concerned glances. He realises that the boys are being overly rambunctious to keep him present. It warms his heart and makes him feel guilty at the same time.

After eating, Jisung slumps onto the couch, stretching out so that his feet hang over the side. Chan joins him, smothering him in affection before he leaves for the night. He knows that Jisung has been more anxious than usual these past few days and although he wishes he could do more to help him, his biggest priority at the moment is Y/n.

“Minho-hyung and I met Y/n’s family yesterday,” Jisung says, voice muffled from being pressed against Chan.

Chan bolts upright, accidentally elbowing Jisung in the process, forcing a groan out of him.

“What? When?” he demands. His mind is racing, finally able to sort out Y/n’s strange behaviour when he had last seen her.

“I forgot to mention it at the studio, but when I was visiting, they also showed up. I don’t really know what I was expecting, but they seemed alright.”

“Just alright?” Chan prompts him, trying to calm his heart rate which has spiked.

“Uhm, I mean her parents were very… polite. They spoke to Y/n privately so I just met them briefly.”

“Where did you go?”

“Her brother, Siwon, I forgot he’s a doctor too. He took me to a private lounge they had, there weren’t any people around which was good. He seemed nice, concerned about Y/n.”

“Well not that concerned,” Chan mutters darkly, “since he didn’t even bother to visit until yesterday.”

Jisung stares at him, clearly shocked by the sudden vitriol.

“Sorry,” Chan says, running a hand through his hair and making it stick up wildly. “It’s just been a lot these days, my emotions are everywhere.”

“It’s okay, hyung,” Jisung says cautiously. “It’s been a lot for all of us, but mostly you and Y/n.”

Chan hums in agreement, but still feels bad.

“You can go back now if you want,” Jisung prompts him.

“What? No, I-”

“I can tell you’re distracted,” he says. “Go, we’ll still be here when she’s better.”

Chan goes.

—

The route to the hospital and through the back entrance is becoming more familiar by now. Chan accidentally startles Y/n when he opens the door to her room, but her expression quickly settles to one of relief upon seeing him. Now that he’s looking closely, he can recognize the same, strained smile that he first saw at Chuseok. 

She shuffles to the side of the bed and lifts the blankets so that Chan can sit beside her. He wraps an arm around her and pulls her closer.

“The boys all missed you,” he says in greeting. “Dinner wasn’t the same with just the eight of us.”

“Oh come on-”

“You’re part of us, now. I told you before. And-” Chan hesitates for a moment. “I heard that your parents visited.” Y/n stiffens for a second, before relaxing again.

“Ah, Jisungie, the little snitch,” she says, the fondness in her voice opposing her words. “Yes, they dropped by while you were away.”

“And?”

“Well, my eomoni was telling me that it was a sign that I should quit my job, get out of the industry, said I was stupid for getting between the sasaeng on you, the usual. But I got my abeoji to look over my files, when I asked he said that I can be released tomorrow!” she says excitedly, smiling so much that her eyes curve into crescents. “I get to go home!”

It’s clear that things with her parents didn’t go as well as Y/n is projecting, but Chan is too much of a coward to push more. Somehow that righteous anger that had filled him when he had talked to Jisung has been replaced with uncertainty. He doesn’t want to get into yet another disagreement with Y/n now that he knows what she truly thinks of him. Or rather, what she thinks that he thinks of her. He needs to focus on bringing them together instead of allowing them to drift further apart. He vows to bring this topic up another time, when things are better between them.

“That’s great!” he replies, but even as he says it, he can’t help the nervousness that starts to form in his stomach at the thought. He is happy that she’s been healing well and will definitely be reassured to have her back home, but until now, the hospital has served as a sort of protective bubble for Y/n, shielding her from the outside world. He has the irrational sense that keeping her here longer is the same as keeping her safe for longer.

—

“Bang Chan-nim?” The doctor that has been in charge of Y/n’s care steps into the room and glances at Y/n, who is busy packing away her things. All morning she’s been in a good mood, enthusiastically talking about what she plans to do once she’s back at the dorms. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course!” he replies. He tells himself that everything is alright, but can't stop himself from running his hands through his mess of hair, palms prickling with nerves.

The doctor leads Chan to his office and smiles at him gently, like he’s about to break some bad news and needs to make sure that Chan doesn’t also break. It makes things worse, Chan’s stomach starts to churn, his mind racing.

“This might be a difficult conversation, but you may already be aware.” The doctor starts slowly. “Y/n-nim works with idols, right? In the entertainment industry?”

“Yes,” Chan agrees, but he’s confused. Did someone leak the news of Y/n’s injuries? Is there a sasaeng that’s been visiting the hospital? He wants to pull out his phone and immediately call the company and force them to do more damage control, but the doctor continues.

“These days, there is a lot of pressure for young women, especially those who work with or follow idols, to fit into certain beauty standards.” Chan nods. He’s seen countless people destroy their bodies to try and lose more and more weight and knows how devastating it is, but he still doesn’t understand the point of this conversation.

“I’m concerned about Y/n-nim”-the doctor interrupts Chan’s thoughts-“When she came to the hospital, we were focused only on her injuries, but throughout her treatment, we have noticed that she is underweight. The testing that we’ve done tells us she has not been getting enough of what her body needs. Not getting enough food, not enough charge, and not enough rest. She's showing signs that she was becoming malnourished.

“It’s not uncommon to see those with soulmates, especially young women, take advantage of the bond, reducing charging time and saying that they will eat more instead. They often eat a normal amount so that it doesn’t concern anyone, but it’s not nearly enough to make up for the missing charge. Both of you have probably been more sensitive lately. It wouldn’t surprise me if you’ve also noticed yourself being irritable or having rapid mood changes these past few days."

Chan can't do anything but stare as the doctor pulls out a small packet of paper. His pulse roars in his ears and all he can feel is guilt, pooling in his stomach and creeping towards his extremities. He feels nauseous. This is his fault.

He thinks back to all the nights where he stayed in the studio, just a little bit longer to finish a track, sliding into bed to charge for only a few hours before they had to wake up. Of the extra meals, protein drinks, snacks he had consumed that he thought nothing of, too used to the varying diets of the rest of the members depending on their schedules and the ups and downs of bulking up or cutting calories. He’s used to the heaviness of his eyelids, the pounding headaches, and occasional dizziness that were the result of sleepless nights.

All these things he had taken in stride, forgetting that Y/n had been dealing with too. He had the luxury of being an idol, during schedules and tour, there was always breaks for food. But he had seen the way the managers and coordis had to run around, only eating when they had a couple minutes to spare.

He knows that he’s snapped at Y/n more than a few times, patience worn thin enough that at the end of the day he doesn’t have it in him for niceties. Of course, he had felt bad about it after the fact, but Y/n hadn’t seemed very phased by it and he had forgotten about it until the next time. It wouldn’t be the first time that stress made him more easily annoyed and ill-tempered, but now he realises why he seemed quicker to get caught up in his emotions.

The doctor continues talking, but Chan feels like he's underwater, the sound is muffled. This is his fault. 

"Bang Chan-nim!" The doctor clasps one of Chan's hands in his and finally pulls his attention away from his self-loathing thoughts. "Are you okay? I know it can be a shock to find out, but don't feel bad. It's very common to be surprised, people are good at hiding things like this, even if you're close to them and I know that your bond is still relatively new. Luckily there are a lot of strategies we have to help your soulmate get more Charge, even if you both have busy schedules. Okay?"

"Okay," Chan replies weakly, he can barely focus on what’s being said, all he can think of is that he's the reason his soulmate is malnourished. And he didn't notice. That they think Y/n has an eating disorder, when it's him that has dictated the amount of charge that she gets. The doctor flips open the packet of papers and starts to highlight it.

"The most important thing right now is increasing Charging time. With Y/n-nim's injuries, her bedrest and all the time you two have spent charging have already been helping a lot. Take this recovery period as a time to build new habits and establish a routine that involves more skinship. I understand you two are busy, but I expect you try for at least 6 or 7 hours of sleep while charging, but more if possible. If you're both doing work on the computer, watching a show or movie, or eating, then sitting close enough to touch will help recharge without taking away from your regular activities. As you may already know, for the most efficient charging more skin-to-skin contact is recommended." He flips the front page back over and places the packet onto another, larger, stack of papers. "More details can be found here and this is the rest of Y/n-ssi's care instructions, prescriptions, and other information on soulmate bonds."

"Thank you so much," Chan says, automatically reaching out to accept all the papers.

"You're welcome. This must be very overwhelming, but Y/n-nim is healing quickly. Your bond is helping her recover much faster. We caught her malnutrition fairly early and expect that she'll be at normal energy levels within a few weeks. Don't feel guilty and try not to worry too much, Bang Chan-nim. Your bond is a good thing, not a bad one." The doctor smiles warmly, checking his watch and standing up. "Y/n-nim should be ready to be discharged now, let's go back to the room so that we don’t keep her waiting."

Chan follows the doctor back in a daze. Y/n is sitting on one of the chairs in her room, scrolling on her phone when they arrive. She brightens when they enter.

“Can we leave now?” she asks eagerly. Chan beelines to her side, reaching to hold her hand.

“Yes, everything has been sorted out now and Bang Chan-nim has all your care instructions. Please give us a call or come to visit if you have any questions or concerns at all,” the doctor says.

“Of course.”

“Looks like everything is ready to go. It was very nice to meet you both, although I wish it could have been under better circumstances. I hope that the rest of your recovery goes well, Y/n-nim, and please do not hesitate to contact us for anything.” With that, the doctor bows and leaves the room.

At the same moment, a nurse knocks on the doorframe as a greeting, pushing a wheelchair through the open door. Y/n’s smile fades when she sees it.

“Oh, no,” she says quickly. “I can walk, there’s no need for one of those.”

She turns to look at Chan for support, but he just shrugs helplessly. Secretly, he would feel better if she used it. After only a week in the hospital, she isn’t close to being fully recovered, even if she hides it well. He’s seen the slight grimaces when Y/n tries to shift positions and the way her face is lined with pain when she walks or has to stand straight for longer than a few minutes. If she pushes herself too much now, it’ll just extend the overall healing process.

“Really, I don’t need it,” she insists. “What was the point in all the walking practise? Besides, Chan-ssi and Yonghwan-ssi will be beside me, they won't let anything happen to me.”

The nurse looks sceptical, but agrees. Before they leave the room, Y/n twists her hand trying to break Chan’s grip. 

“It’s too public,” she murmurs when he tightens his hold instead. “Just in case, I don’t want anyone to see anything that can be misinterpreted.”

Unable to think up an argument against that, Chan reluctantly lets go. Y/n hooks her arm with Yonghwan’s instead and they make their way out, Chan hovering behind them anxiously. They’re all wearing masks and hats and the car that’s going to pick them up is waiting at a private exit, but there’s a shared urgency in their movement. By now, the media has turned their attention to other stories, but with the radio silence from Stray Kids since the incident, fans have had nothing to do except theorise and wonder what’s happening behind the scenes. 

He knows that it’s making him paranoid. He finds that he’s constantly looking over his shoulder when he’s in the hallways of the hospital. He’s never been more careful trying to cover up his appearance and avoid anybody who looks like they might recognise him. 

They can’t risk the chance of a sighting of Y/n, especially now that her face was captured and shared on social media by fans before JYPE’s legal team was able to step in, and pictures of Chan with Y/n would make things much worse. There have already been rumours about how close Y/n is with all the members and who she is, using pictures from other schedules and events, somehow identifying her in blurred out clips from vlogs that have been posted, and even old footage from when she worked with Xdinary Heroes as evidence. 

It scares Chan. Scares him so much that he can’t talk about it to anybody.

Although Y/n’s time in the hospital was fairly short, all things considered, Chan feels like he’s the one that has changed during this stay. Everything he has learned has made him feel like his chest has been opened up and his insides have been scooped out, leaving him hollowed out and unsteady. 

When they finally get home safely, it feels like Chan can breathe easily for the first time in days.

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter | read it on ao3

[yesbutmakeitgay]

Caught Red Handed

GIF by sersi

Carol Danvers x Reader

We’ve Loved A Thousand Lives

Same beginning, different story every time.

Part 10

Fury!R, Light angst, Fluff.

Beta'd by @cordeliasdarling 💜

Word count: 1.1k

Masterlist | This collection | AO3

Carol enters her ship after another successful mission wanting for nothing more than to relax and rest, until she senses someone else’s presence in her space home.

She walks slowly, pointing one of her lit up fists in a general forward direction, but before she becomes too alarmed, you decide to make your presence known by stepping closer to her.

Once she sees you, her body stops glowing, but her muscles remain just as tense, "I don't like where this is going," she says as she notices your very official uniform and your unwavering posture.

"I haven't even said anything." You tread carefully.

"But you will." She steps into the living room while taking her gloves off. You can only give her a sympathetic look, following behind her and deciding to rip off the bandaid.   "Agent Danvers, you're fired," you state firmly. Even though she knew it was coming, she still makes a pained expression.

"I already apologized, are you sure there is nothing I can do?" she groans in desperation.

"Pleading with me is useless, I’m afraid, I’m just the messenger here."

"Can I at least talk to Fury again?"

You feel a pit in your stomach, "I disabled your comms, and your ship is permanently on manual mode," Carol slumps on the couch with a big sigh, you remain standing on the other side of the room, staring at her, "I know I’m not supposed to say this, but I’m really sorry," you tell her genuinely.

"You should be! This is all because of you," she weakly snarks.

You were waiting for her to bring it up, "Well, you shouldn't have let Fury catch you," you taunt her.

"How was I supposed to know that you're his daughter?" Her tone is aggressive, but it doesn’t carry any venom.

"You never were the sharpest tool in the shed."

"I didn't even know your name then!" she defends herself.

"Oh, wow, maybe don't let him know that."

She side eyes you, "Like you're the epitome of morality."

"I mean, I knew your name," you point out smugly as you walk closer to her.

"Everyone on Earth knows my name."

"Not for long," you take a seat beside her, "you’re still fired."

"I cannot accept this, who's gonna take over my job? Has he thought of that? It's not like any of the Avengers are fit to do it."

You bite your lip, "Monica was interested."

"Really?" she asks in shock.

"It was either her or Kamala, but then Fury said, 'over 21.'" She reminisces for a bit, as much as she trusts her, it would be too dangerous for Monica to do her job.

"Why couldn't he come fire me himself? He doesn't have the time for his most dedicated agent?" There’s a slight acidity in her words.

"He was going to," you concede.

"And?"

"I, uh, insisted on coming myself." Your heart starts beating faster.

Her brows furl, "Why?"

"So I could do this one last time." You grab her by the back of the neck and pull her into a slow, passionate kiss, she leans in for more, but you pull away connecting your forehead with hers as you breathe heavily.

"I hate you," she whispers with a grin on her face.

You shake your head, "You love me."

"Love?" She raises an eyebrow.

"You don't seem to have much else going on, so…" you shrug.

She gently laughs, "You’re gonna be the death of me."

"Get away from her, Danvers." A deep voice comes through the ship, you lazily peck Carol's nose and stand back completely, a knowing smile growing on your face as you turn to look at the source.

"Hi, dad," you greet the hologram.

"I thought you disabled that," Carol asks you.

"I lied," you mumble back.

"So, my ship is still—?"

"Yup," you quickly admit as you turn back to Fury.

"I knew I shouldn't have trusted you with this," he scolds you, you stand up to meet his gaze properly.

"You gave me the job, now you accept the consequences."

"What do you even see in her?"

"Are you kidding? She's gorgeous!" Carol exclaims proudly, the compliment makes you feel like a giddy high schooler.

"Wasn’t talking to you, Danvers," he clarifies with a stiff jaw.

"Oh, well, it's still true." She remains on her spot on the couch to let you two talk.

"You’re the one who said I should get out more, meet new people," you try to object to your father’s displeasure.

"Yes. New. People. You've known Carol since you were five."

Your lips curl into a huge smirk, "And that's how I know she's the hottest woman I've ever met."

"Stop being disgusting," he rolls his eye, making you chuckle, "did you do it?" He proceeds with the conversation.

"Yes."

"Then, what are you waiting for? Get back here."

You’re about to oblige when a sudden burst of confidence takes over you, "No."

"What did you say to me?" He is startled by your stunt.

"I said no."

He squints his eye daringly, "I am your boss and your father, when I give you an instruction, you follow it immediately."

"Or what?" You cross your arms defiantly.

"Do not challenge me, young lady!"

Your tough expression melts into a softer one, "Dad, I love you, but I’m not twelve anymore, you have to let me be my own person."

"Yeah, let her be a person, Fury," Carol repeats provokingly.

"Don’t help me," he growls.

In an instant, she realizes, "You just had me fired, I don't have to listen to you anymore," she smiles, Fury is offended by her words, "but, as a friend, I'll tell you what I’m gonna do," she stands up behind you and protectively wraps an arm around your waist, "I am going to hang up this call and let your daughter disable my communications system, I’m gonna take her on a date, probably stargazing, then, I’m gonna make her dinner, we'll have some fun, and afterwards we'll go to sleep together, sound good? Good, bye!" And with that, she ends the call.

You remain frozen in place for a few seconds, "A date?" you repeat tentatively.

"If you’ll have me."

"That sounds nice."

"Wait until you see what I have planned after dinner." She shoots you a wink that makes you blush.

"I can't believe we just did that."

"I can't believe he fired me." Carol is still outraged on the inside.

"Don’t worry about it, give him two weeks to realize literally no one in the universe can fill your shoes and he'll come back begging," you turn to her and wrap your arms around her neck, "as for me, though, I think I’m gonna have to take refuge here, indefinitely."

Your exaggeration makes her giggle, "You’re always welcome to stay with me."

"Thanks." You stare into each other’s eyes for a long moment.

"I love you."

"You do?" you gasp.

"Mhmm, aren't you gonna say it back?" She’s smiling so big, the corners of her eyes wrinkle.

"I love you too."

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

a/n: another one????

part one, part two, part three, part four

as time passes, you learn that toji prefer to be addressed as "my lord" and especially "lord toji" by you and only you. he turns down the name of a god, and certainly anything to do with that as you've noticed others within the island refer to him with other formalities that aren't exactly like yours or that of a god's.

lord toji comes every few days from business. the flower girl, ameera, tells you he's off debating with gods, passing souls to the underworld, and doing what a being like himself does. he's been kind to accommodate you here, with free food, a clean home, and the liberty of peace. when you ask the girl what her reason for being here was, she simply shrugs, "he found me wandering the hills of olympus," she says, "I figured my human parents had no need for me, but his excellence has found use in me. at least for harvesting flowers and pottery." she chuckles, a faint smile upon her features. you think if you were to end like her, then surely life here was better than back home. by now, sukuna would have either wed another or burnt the village to the ground. but you try the second not to get the best of you. "what about you, my lady?"

"lord toji found me in the woods, though I think I was the one who called him," you chuckle, helping ameera collect the berries in the basket you hold. "it was not my proudest moment. I was set to marry a man I did not love, and he made room for me here. so I think that makes two of us." ameera's words interrupt your chuckle.

"his excellence does not bring woman as you, especially those fleeing marriages." she speaks softly, "the rest of the women here are either orphans, old widows, or nuns dedicating their lives to maintain the temple." she speaks, "so you're certainly a first."

"perhaps," you say, "but I hope my presence is not a threat to the peace of this home."

"oh, not at all." she smiles brightly, her eyes sparkle as two shooting stars. "in fact, I think his excellence visits the island more often thanks to you. he's been able to create more improvements, and he's also well up to date making sure you have everything you nee-"

"-is everything alright, ladies?" the two of you turn, and you notice ameera has said something she may not have been allowed to say to you with the look she and lady mildred exchange. lady mildred, you learned, was a widow. she lost her husband to famine and landed here, taking care of the meals and food preparation.

"yes!' the both of you reply, flushed. "we were just..."

"...picking berries?"

"yes."

"I would have finished my pie by now if you ladies would have just minimized the chit chat," she sighs, then glancing at you and then at ameera, "but I suppose it is good that ameera is getting you out of that shell, isn't that right dear?"

it had been a long time since another woman treated you as kindly as lady mildred. she had a character, but a warm heart. offering anyone food or beverages at any hour with no complaint. no matter what, she believed all deserved a warm bed and meal at the end of the day. and she has ensured that upon your arrival.

the rest of the day was relaxing. you often help setting up laundry to dry, the cool wind blows against the green grass tickling your ankles and the white sheets flow gracefully. peace seems attainable here. no war, no intruders, and certainly no distress so long as lord toji ensures it. everyone in the island sees him as a god, a savior to whom they owe their loyalty to, and as a result, a warm community is built. one you would have liked to grown in back home. but it was never too late to begin to grow in a new one.

[secretsnowclub]

I found a weird old Gamecube survival horror game??? Can you help??

I’ve recently started collecting older video games, specifically all the survival horror games that I was too afraid to play as a kid. Now that I’m older and have a salaried job, it’s nice to be able to court that younger version of me and buy all the stuff my family couldn’t afford. Plus the games are fun. Everything from Resident Evil to Rule of Rose, Fatal Frame to Parasite Eve. I love being scared and these games work their hardest to do it and sometimes succeed.

Before I play them, I like to go on youtube and watch retrospectives, reviews, and old ads for them, so I can sort of get settled into the headspace and learn about the creation of them. But there’s one that I’ve stumbled on that I’m unable to find anything about. Almost like it came out of nowhere.

I found this game at a used game, movie, and music store just off the red line in Chicago. It’s called Soul Cemetery for the Gamecube. A survival horror game about a detective returning to their hometown to investigate the mysterious death of her father. It’s very obviously inspired by Resident Evil, featuring the tank controls, fixed camera angles, and similar graphics, not to mention the focus on zombies which wander the town. There’s also some Silent Hill influence with a heavy use of snow (instead of fog) and ambient music throughout. 

It seemed like a very generic sort of game after the opening cinematic and wandering around the opening area, but then it started to reveal itself as something more. The controls were straight forward but also had some interesting things about them. You aim and shoot like in RE, but there’s also a button to “hum,” which makes the detective slow her run to a walk and hum a tune, which changes with each area and sometimes changes within each area depending on exactly where you stand. 

There’s also a dedicated “smoke” button, which plays a unique (albeit short) cutscene where the detective smokes a cigarette and says a little something about the area, or what just happened. It almost feels like the journal mechanic that games like Life is Strange have, where the character recaps the last chapter in their own words, only you get to control when it happens and how often. 

Both of these things kinda took me off guard and drew me into the game in a way I didn’t expect. There are no save rooms or safe rooms like in a lot of survival horror games, so these two things were like getting a break for the spooky scary stuff whenever I needed it, while also getting to hear the thoughts of the character. 

This got kinda freaky when the detective started saying things about me during these moments. The game must read your memory card and system data or something because the further I got into the game, whenever she’d smoke she’d say stuff to me about how late I was up, or about the weather (possibly reading the month??? Idk if Gamecubes have location data). In the light of day these things aren’t that scary ig, but after getting killed by zombies after playing till 4 a.m. it was definitely giving me goosebumps.

It was extra creepy when the detective would do these things without being prompted. The further I got into the game, the more she would indulge in humming or smoking without me pressing the buttons. At first I thought maybe my hand slipped, but no, it’s almost like she has a mind of her own. And these self-indulgent moments were often the scariest.

I played through the entire thing in one sitting, it was maybe 5-6 hours. There were some obvious levels included in a lot of survival horror games, like a spooky motel with zombies, a dark forest with this weird moon spirit creature who is like the main bad guy of the game, and an empty town center where there’s a boss battle. About halfway through, the detective finds herself at her childhood home and that’s when shit really started to freak me out. I don’t know how to explain it other than her house had the same layout as mine? Maybe it’s just a coincidence because the game takes place in an unnamed midwest town, and maybe the houses here are just copy-pasted anyways. But it was spooky. Her living room was my living room, her bedroom was mine, the kitchen was mine. Even the spooky stairway into the basement was in the same place. 

Back in her parents room, her mom is a zombie. There’s no music. Just the looped MP3 of the zombie groans. Whenever you press the button to aim, the detective would hesitate and tell me not to do it. It was only after the mom had attacked and killed me once that I could actually return to the room and shoot the zombie. Immediately after, the detective took control and started humming this really broken, solemn tune. It felt so recognizable but I can’t figure it out. I did my best to record it here:

It’s been stuck in my head ever since.

After the run in with the mom zombie, the detective continues humming that tune, allowing me to walk slowly through the house. I returned to her bedroom and was able to “interact” with her childhood bed. The detective climbs in, the humming breaking up more and more until she falls asleep.

There’s a few esoteric and surreal images that flash on the screen. I didn’t expect them, so I couldn’t take pictures, and when I went and played through the game again, this entire section didn’t happen. Idk if it’s just like the order of events was different, or if it was how I killed the mom or how I explore after? Idk. But the images were these brutal close-ups of the mom zombie. Like, real photos, not just rendered. There were startling, and even if I can’t get them to pop up again, I feel like they’re still fresh in my mind.

The detective wakes up in her childhood bedroom after a second and is different. She’s a child. Her character model is smaller, she doesn't have her gun, and her entire control scheme is different. Most of the buttons are replaced with the “hum” thing, which has her doing that same haunting hum from before. As a child, she can still wander around the rest of the town, and it’s still overrun with zombies, now there’s just noway for her to defend herself.

I felt kind of stuck and frustrated with this as the zombies kept killing me and I didn’t like hearing the MP3 child scream over and over again, so eventually I turned the Gamecube off and on, and when the game loaded up, the detective woke up in her childhood bed as an adult, like none of that stuff happened. I was able to continue the game but was unable to beat the final boss. I think there was something I had to do as a child to be able to? But I don’t know. The game was very confusing at that point and, like I said, when I tried to replay it, the child-thing didn’t even happen. 

I think if the game has a guide or even just, like, any information online I could have made sense of it. It’s a weird take on survival horror that really did get under my skin, I just wish I could finish it, or at least figure out what some of the weird stuff in it was doing or trying to do. If you played this game when you were younger, were there any guides you followed? Or do you remember anything? The only thing I was able to find was a shitty scan of the game manual, but even that I’m having a hard time deciphering…

Any help is appreciated!

[just-rogi]

“I DO NOT DREAM OF LABOR” this “LATE STAGE CAPITALIST BRAINROT” that- well I do. I do dream of labor. Idleness makes my hands buzz and my eyes glaze over. Of course I enjoy rest (what little of it I get with my job) but ultimately, yes, I do dream of labor. Labor is what I dream of most in fact-

I dream of creating : of having time to knit and sew and embroider my own garments, rather than let my yarn collect dust in my closet. I dream of creating poetry and art and spending hours illustrating something beautiful and having the time and energy to focus only on that.

I dream of biking the back roads of my town with my brother again collecting litter that we see and filling up plastic bags to sort into recycling and trash (two summers ago was the last time we biked together- the litter is building up now in the ditches).

I dream of tilling the soil in my mothers garden and watering the tomatoes and peppers and zucchini and Persian squash in the garden until I can harvest it. I dream of watering my neighbors garden and feeding her chickens every morning and every evening while they are away on vacation for a week. I dream of driving to my grandmothers house twice a week and bringing her fresh fruit bread and vegetables and cooking for her while she sits in the sun eating tomato salad I made.

I dream of mowing my mothers lawn and making my brother lunch and baking treats for the teachers room at work.

I dream of academia and dedicating hours to research to archaeology and anthropology and spending long hours on dig sites and in the lab as that was when I was the happiest in college.

I am one of the few people who can say that I really, truly, from the bottom of my heart, love my job and come home from work feeling a sense of fulfillment and pride in my work. I am a teacher and I dream of spending hours teaching children to read, teaching ancient civ and history, of reading texts on effecting teaching methods and finding interesting assignments for them. I dream of teaching them to draw during their free periods. I dream of taking them to the library to practice reading and language comprehension skills- of taking the time to sit with middle schoolers with learning disabilities and dedicate my time and energy to teaching them how to be functional adults and making their lives better. I dream of labor, yes, and I would bet that most of the tiktok communists who say “I do not dream of labor” fucking do to.

Labor is fulfilling. Humans dream to create and do something worthwhile- otherwise we lose our minds! But we are at such a late stage capitalism here in the west (specifically America) that we associate labor with exploitative labor.

I love my job- but I do not dream of skipping my lunch break. I do not dream of working 8:45-4:00. I do not dream of staying after work until 4:35 unpaid. I do not dream of small classrooms with little supplies. I do not dream of understaffed schools and overstuffed classrooms forcing teachers to stretch themselves too to pick up the slack. I do not dream of sending emails after working hours. I do not dream of forty minute unpaid commute due to dysfunctional public transport. I do not dream of coming home and crying from stress every night. I do not dream of my feet and ankles swelling and hurting so badly after a full day of work that all I can do when I get home is shower and sleep with my feet elevated to lessen the pain enough to slip my shoes on the next day. I do not dream of the pay being such that I have to live with four roomates in the city I live in, AS A CITY EMPLOYEE!!! IM A FUCKING PUBLIC SERVANT!! I WORK FOR THE CITY BUT DONT GET PAID ENOUGH TO LIVE IN THE CITY!!

I do dream of labor fuck I love labor but exploitation has made me resent work which I should love, and has taken up so much of my time that I have no energy to garden or to clean the roads or to knit gifts for friends and family anymore. I know that there are people who dream of being truck drivers and baristas and grocery store employees. I know that there are people who would feel fulfilled by being garbage men and construction workers and dishwashers, but who can’t because the abuse would kill them and the hours are too long.

I dream of labor I’m a world where I am not abused and where all my basic needs are met - I dream of labor in a world where labor isn’t the price of being alive, but rather one of the many joys of it.

[hunterbunter3000]

Krueger being a seat sniffer isn’t shocking tbh 💀 that man def already picked out the names of his and Sweetheart’s future kids and wedding plans detailed in a binder (is he manifesting or delusional; who knows lol!).

He also def has a shrine dedicated to Sweetheart openly in his room, atleast the other boys have the decency to hide their shrines in their closet 😤😂

LMAOOO STOP THATS SO HIM (AND FUCKING EVERYONE ELSE)

He has like- three binders and two notebooks he has for Sweetheart and his future with her. Like it's just FILLED with where they would live, how many kids they would have, tHEIR NAMES, the colleges they would go to, the house he wants to get when they get married, THE WEDDING

MANS IS EVEN PLANNING FOR THEIR RETIREMENT LIKE-- KRUEGER??? he's delulu and manifesting for this to happen!! Let's cheer him on! ✨️🙏 PFFTT-

And yes. He has a shrine of Sweetheart. OBVIOUSLY. THE MOMENT YOU WALK IN its right there in your face. It's sitting on a small table-like stand and it's FILLED with framed pictures of Sweetheart and heart shaped candles around them. There's a long frame with gold on it, and inside of it is a nail set he got her his first time ever (that was three years ago 💀) She told him it was coming off, and she was so sad because he got it for her (he fell in love with her more because of that) so he helped her get them off, and he told her that he'll throw them away.

S I K E

once she left he threw them in his pocket so fast and ran off to his room 💀💀 and then there's a pedestal on the table, and it has a small, marble bust of Sweetheart he paid someone to do on etsy (HE LOVES ETSY IM NOT CHANGING MY MIND) and what's crazy is that all of its glued down to the table, and there's a button behind it, so he presses that button when Sweetheart comes around and the table top flips, being empty and he places magazines on the clean top 🧍‍♀️ THE MAN HAS A SECRET CONTRAPTION FOR HIS SHRINE

(You can't deny the fact that he prays to it as well. You CANT)

He's down horrifically bad. He wants her sO BADLY

well get tf in line BIG BOY CAUSE SO DOES EVERYONE ELSE

They don't really have shrines like Krueger (because he's delusional) but everyone does have a picture of Sweetheart or some sort of gift she's made them somewhere in their room. Or on them.

Like Alejandro has a small gold locket of Sweetheart he wears around his neck and NEVER TAKES IT OFF-- and when he's about to go on a mission, he kisses the locket, says a small prayer and puts it under his shirt, so he knows that he's protected and has someone to go back to (why am I making myself cry)

Rudy has a picture of Sweetheart framed with a letter she sent him on his desk with the little things she's made him. He reads the letter every time he misses her (WHY AM I DOING THIS TO MYSELF)

Ghost wears a braided friendship bracelet Sweetheart made him. (Its black and blue with lil skulls) He hides it on his left wrist with his glove, but he still wears it. When he's not around Sweetheart, he plays with the ties and smiles

Soap has like a little collage of pictures of Sweetheart and him on a corkboard. They take pictures when they're in a new country or state and collect weeds of flowers and give it to each other (SO CUTE I LOVE SOAP) and his sketchbook is FILLED of Sweetheart-- like he remembers what she looks like so much he sketches her from memory. And he uses a separate sketchbook for her, he calls it "Sweet's Looks".

Gaz only has one picture of her, and it's on his phone. It's Sweetheart cuddled up on his side, hand on his chest while watching a movie. It's obviously his home screen wallpaper (not his lock screen he can't handle that) he also has a little basket of different rocks Sweetheart has given him because she has a little basket of rocks he has given her as well (they're birds I tell ya)

Price has a photo of her in his hat. That's why he never lets anyone touch it, and his heart beats a little quicker when Sweetheart wears is hat cause he's nervous she's gonna see the picture (she has, and it's her and Brutus together and she squeals everytime in her mind)

Roach has a picture of Sweetheart taped to a bear. 🧍‍♀️ don't really wanna go into that one--

Alex has like- one of those photo booth type of pictures. Yk the ones that come in threes or fours. They went to a mall and Sweetheart HAD to get some. Alex uses his as a bookmark.

Now Horangi is like Krueger. He DOES have a shrine but it's in his closet. You will NEVER SEE IT.

König would have a shrine in his closet as well, but it's SMALL. Like two pictures and a good luck letter she wrote to him when he was on a mission. He's so soft for her good lord.

Graves has like.... I don't know a paperclip? That Sweetheart gave him? Think he still has that pen that Sweetheart forgot to take back. Still counts.

[oharamwah]

♡☆— a secret ? : your life-long partner has been keeping a big secret from you about his career. → 2.3k

read pt. two → it’s not a onsie

husband!miguel o’hara x fem!reader

contents : au!miguel, florist!reader, sliiiightly ooc (he never had gabi), slight gore? (i kinda just describe injuries miguel has),

posted july 22nd - to be edited !

© oharamwah , please do not steal my work

like any other day, you sat in your living room mindlessly listening to the tv blaring a brain frying romance reality show. you already ate dinner, though today you ate alone. despite the tv playing and the dishwasher running, the house was quiet.

‘he’s usually home by now, this is the fourth time this week.’ you thought.

your husband, miguel, worked at alchemax, the biggest scientific research company in all of new york. he was always so dedicated to his job, always giving it his all, but you are his wife. he always made time for you. you are his world. right?

##

new york, new york - 2089

6:03 pm : you run a small floral shop in new york right on the edge of broadway street. flowers are your favourite thing in the world — they’re so beautiful without even trying. you sat down, ready to take your first break of the day. a bad storm had hit the city the previous night and completely ruined your outdoor setup. what used to be a lovely arrangement of wooden shelves bathing in different floral collections you gardened became a mess of buckets, paper wrappings and loose flower petals. so, you spent the entirety of the day cleaning up and gathering the remains of your flowers.

you dusted your hands off on your apron and collapsed into your chair, a deep sigh following after. you closed your eyes and settled into relaxation, but suddenly..

door chime

your eyes jolt open. ‘seriously? the shop is open all day and no one comes in until now?’

you got up anyway. before your eyes at the entrance of the shop is a man. a tall man, nearly as tall as the door itself. he must’ve had to crouch to get in. he had messy brown hair, reddish-brown eyes, and a small scar on his left cheek.

you greeted him sweetly as he walked towards the counter and flashed a handsome smile, his canines slightly pointy. “evening,” he said politely, leaning one elbow on the counter. “i need a bouquet.” he said. duh. “well, you came to the right place,” you replied. “what kind of flowers are we looking for?”

the man thought for a second before sheepishly asking for advice.

“actually, they’re for my mother. i’m not very good at flowers or gifts, but it’s her birthday tomorrow.”

you gawk at this. ‘awww how sweet. does this mean he’s on the market??’ you thought. “oh, well, do you know her favourite colour?” you ask. “hm.. i know she likes pink. and yellow.”

you nod and walk past the counter, past the tall handsome man, and take a look around the shop. you come across a patch of pink dahlias and an idea pops into your head.

“might i suggest these lovely things? they make lovely centre pieces in assorted bouquets.” you say, your mouth curving into a smile as you make eye contact with the beautiful stranger. he smiles back. you hold up one of the flowers and he takes it into his hand, inspecting it as if it were some oddly creature — it was a flower. he rose the flower to his nose to smell it and his eyes closed in delight. he opened his eyes and looked into yours. ‘god his gaze is intense.’

“perfect.” he said with a small smile.

he had a certain look to him. not skeevy, not overbearing, he just looked good. now, not in an attractive sense (although that was definitely something that was on your mind) but in a human way — something about this man and his demeanour screamed “i’m a good man with a good heart who loves deeply.”

and at the time, little did you know, but the man thought nothing less of you. he knew for certain the second he saw you: that first visit to your floral shop would not be the last.

##

by the time miguel got home, it was already 4 o’clock in the morning. to say you were upset was an understatement.

yes, you were still awake, but only a little. you lay in bed scrolling on your phone as your eyelids weigh down on themselves, your brain fighting to keep them open. the idea of making sure miguel got home safe was the only thing keeping you up. and then, you hear the familiar sound of the door unlocking, followed by the kicking of boots and the dropping of a briefcase. miguel grunts.

in this moment you are livid. your husband has come home late in the past, yes, but never this late. before you know it, you’re on your feet again, awake as ever.

“miguel?” you call out as you leave the bedroom. the more you near the front door, the more you hear him panting. you get closer, and there he is. your husband is leaning against the wall, his scrunched up face showing nothing but pain. he has a few blood stains on his shirt, his hair is a disheveled mess, and the entirety expresses a deep exhaustion.

“oh my god, miguel,” you say in a sigh, rushing to him, your heartbeat picking up with every second. you grab onto his shoulders to support him from falling. “miguel, dios mío what happened to you??” you pleaded. “y/n,” he said in an exhale, “you should be asleep, my love.”

you couldn’t believe him. first, he comes home late. second, he’s clearly injured. and third, he’s completely ignoring the fact that he is injured.

“miguel..” he refuses to look at you. he can’t. “miguel look at me.” you say sternly, your voice slightly louder than normal.

miguel is convinced that in your entire marriage, and in the whole 11 years of you two knowing each other, you never raised your voice when you don’t have to. parties? sure. calling miguel down for dinner? of course. but when you’re upset with him? never.

miguel looks up at you, breathing heavily. his eyes are worn and weak. in this moment, he feels ashamed.

“what happened, miguel?” you said in a whisper, cupping his face in your hand. “who hurt you..” your other hand reaches his chest, his quick heartbeat along with the warmth of his skin seeping through his blood stained shirt. your faces were inches away, miguel could feel your breath on his nose. he only looked at you.

“miguel, please. talk to me.”

by now you were more desperate than upset with him. all you wanted was to make sure he was okay. you and your husband aren’t the kind to keep secrets from each other. anything and everything about yourselves, the other could recite the fact in their sleep. so what happened this time? what’s been happening this week to make miguel think he had to hide and come home at ungodly hours? let alone covered in his own blood?

you reached for the buttons of his shirt and slowly undid them, and what was revealed shattered you. miguel’s chest was painted with scratches, and one big gash right across the middle. he could only look down with embarrassment. it was hard for him to know you were seeing him in this state.

the most that’d happen to him at work is a small cut on his hand that he’d play off as a paper cut, or even red eyes that he’d blame on being around too many chemicals. he was your strong husband, your miguel who never felt any pain, or showed it. him being this vulnerable infront of you made his heart clench. he never wanted you to see, to know. but this was inexcusable. he knows today is the day.

“y/n,” he said, breaking his silence. “cariño.”

he looks at you, for the first time in what felt like hours.

“i haven’t been good to you, and i know that.” he admits. “and i know that i’ve been coming home late, and dismissing your concerns when i do,” he takes your hand and gently holds it. “miguel-“ you start, but he interrupts you.

“my love, i hope you know i mean well. i only want to be good to you.” he assures you, almost begging for you to hear him out.

“i know that baby but-“ “but today is different, i know.”

you’re at a loss for words. on one hand, you’re extremely confused; where on earth is he going with this? but on the other hand, all you want is to kiss him, clean him up and go to bed.

“mi reina, i haven’t been 100% truthful with you. about my job.” he states. “i..”

miguel pauses, trying to think of the tamest way to tell you the truth without sugar coating it. “you..?” you say, getting impatient.

“i’m not just a scientist at alchemax.” he looks at your lips and back into your eyes. “what, you’re a shitty hit-man too?” you say, half joking, half serious. ‘dios bueno is going on..’ you think. “no.” he says in a sigh, “no i’m.. i’m..” “what is it miguel please..”

and then he says it.

“i’m spiderman.” he looks at you.

“you know, that guy that’s always on the news?”

“oh.. you’re.. you’re… are you serious?” you let go of him. miguel nods. he isn’t surprised, he knew this wasn’t easy information digest.

the news stories didn’t exactly show is best side either. sure, he helped people, but he’s killed people too. out of malice? no, definitely not. but for the sake of the civilians? give or take a few. and miguel knew exactly what you thought of vigilante types.

“i just wish they didn’t hurt anyone at all,” he recalled you saying one evening. “this spider guy would be a lot better in my eyes if he just saved a kitty stuck in a tree once in a while.” to which miguel would get defensive and argue that “maybe he’s doing his best not to hurt them, honey.”

it all started to make sense.

“please let me explain.”

“explain..” you say in disbelief. “oh yeah take a minute to explain this huge secret you’ve been hiding for how long?!” you exclaimed. here comes the anger once again.

“y/n, please just hear me out.”

you look at his face, and then at his wounds, and suddenly you remember who you’re yelling at.

he was stupid to lie to you. really stupid. but you love miguel, you’ve loved him since you met him that one evening in ‘89. so you cross your arms and stay quiet.

“i wanted to tell you, my love. i did. and i should’ve. but.. you just don’t understand.”

“understand what, miguel?” you ask, so quietly you’re almost certain he didn’t hear. your heart hurts.

“i kept this from you to keep you safe.” he explained, and you scoff. he can’t be serious.

“miguel-“

“i know you, cariño. i know that if you knew, you would find a way to get involved and end up getting hurt. i could lose you.” he takes a step forward and reaches out for your waist, pulling you closer. you give in.

“i’m involved regardless, miguel. i’m your wife.” you explain, desperate to show him that you care. “we’re supposed to be a team, remember?”

you’re looking up at him with teary eyes, the same eyes that miguel fell in love with years ago. miguel’s got many weaknesses with you, but your eyes have proven themselves fail proof. the way you’re looking at him makes his entire brain go fuzzy.

miguel sighs. he knows you’re right. all of a sudden, his shoulders feel 10x heavier with all the guilt he’s carrying.

“you’re..” you pause. you have to think.

“you’re spiderman,” you whisper nervously, “but you’re my miguel first.”

miguel is taken aback by this. the anger he expected, but this? he did not prepare for.

“i don’t want you to feel as if you have to hide who you are.” you gently trace the scar on his cheek. “if this is who you are,” you say, gently touching around his injuries, “i still love you miguel.”

the weight on his shoulders is lifted. he knew you loved him, but the confrontation inevitably led him to think that might not last.

he sighs, “i just don’t want to let you get hurt, my love. i could never forgive myself if i did.” he looks at you longingly.

“if i promise to stay out of it,” you grab his hand, “to stay as far away from all the danger you face..” he gives you a sorry look. “would you just trust me?”

“i love you y/n, i do trust you. you are my entire universe and more.” his usually furrowed eyebrows are softened and his heartbeat had calmed down. “and i.. i’m sorry for not telling you. for making you feel like i don’t trust you. i really do,” he leans his forehead against yours. you can feel his breath again, but this time, it’s breaths of relief.

“i forgive you, miguel.”

his eyes are deep, but you’re close enough to see that his pupils dilate at the sound of your mercy. miguel felt his body regain strength, rejuvenating itself. he leaned in to kiss you softly, so soft in fear that if he was too rough then you’d crumble away and disappear. the kiss was gentle and loving, but the feeling that lingered after was begging for more.

your eyes remain gazing at only each other and you both smile wistfully.

“whaddya say we get you cleaned up and in bed,” you say, comfortingly rubbing his shoulders. miguel chuckles.

“only if you’re gonna help me,” he said, looking at you in a way that showed he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

you jokingly roll your eyes, smiling.

“lead the way, mi héroe.”

spanish glossary :

dios mío - oh my god

dios bueno - good god

cariño - my dear, sweetie, honey

mi reina - my queen

mi héroe - my hero