Today Is Video Games’s Birthday.

actually i love the reveal that the only reason effie got involved with the hunger games at all was because her little sister needed her.

The Bartender || Octavio ‘Octane’ Silva || PART 1

Request: Surely a Octane x reader one shot? Make it angsty, maybe reader is looking at making it official with another legend and Octavio isn't having a bar of it. He wants to prove that he is the one she wants to be with make it smutty hehe

A/N: I had so much fun writing this but unfortunately ya boi loves porn with a plot so the first part is all plot and part 2 will be unadulterated smut lmaoooo

I also tried something a little different, rather than having normal Y/N prompts there’s none present, I feel like it takes me out of it sometimes so I hope its still easy to follow !

Pairing: Octane x f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, Bitta angst!

Word Count: 3.4K

Being friends with the Legends was both a blessing and a curse. The upbeat bartender had found herself a job by quite literally falling into the Paradise Lounge one particular evening, managing to charm her way through the charismatic owner and getting herself some fun and secure work.

Since then with time passing, and more Legends joining the Apex games (given her coworker was literally a Legend) she had come to see familiar faces, ones she held close to her heart. Some considered as close friends — some closer… Much like her boss, Elliott.

With having a cast of famous friends she had been briefed over and over again about etiquette and how to interact with them after hours. It was all so meticulous and boring, half the time she didn’t care for it too much and opted to ignore it mostly. After all, she was merely a bartender and wanted to just do her job.

The Lounge itself was particularly busy, with two functions happening at the same time and the usual mob of Legends that visited the bar. It had become quite stressful, despite Elliotts four decoys helping the poor woman keep up with it all.

“Dude there is something in the drinks tonight,” her exhausted voice called out over the ruckus and atmosphere, in her hands she slid over a full tip jar to Elliott with a confused look on her face. He tilted his head, almost as shocked as she was at the array of tips they had been receiving for the evening.

It wasn’t too unusual, but the tips had been directed toward the bartender entirely which was incredibly weird.

“Uh-oh, Elliott seems a little jealous you’ve taken all the attention.” Anita smirked, bringing her drink up to her lips. The comment made the bartender shoo her off bashfully, following up with a wink and sliding over the mercenary another drink when Elliott had his back turned away.

“What can I say, I’m just better than him in every single way.” The bartender's smug smile reaffirmed her joking comment. She loved nothing more than stirring up the man, only because he reacted so well to her jabs and endearing insults.

Kairi held up her beer bottle in a toast and bowed her head, “I’ll fuckin’ drink to that.”

With that, the night continued on as per usual as people came and went, the functions slowly siphoned people and closing time was upon them. ‘Closing time’ — which usually meant the bar was shut off to the public for an unknown amount of hours while the remaining legends and bartender stayed in to drink themselves into a stupor.

The bartender found herself seated comfortably on one of the couches in the lounge area, her back flush up against the arm and her legs were draped over Elliotts lap. His hand was softly stroking the underside of her legs, almost in a trance as the group of people talked amongst themselves.

She would be lying if she said that the attention wasn’t nice, in fact over the past couple of weeks she had come attuned to the little gestures Elliott started doing and considered that maybe they were meant to come off as more than what a friend would do. It was nice, considering how her heart ached after the birthday she had, it was best to move on and keep herself distracted.

It wasn’t just her who noticed these things, it was some others who had picked up on it as well. Often asking amongst themselves if the two were a couple or not.

“Hey,” her soft voice caught his attention, she brought over her hand to run through his hair as she did so, “what’s on your mind El?”

Truth be told the man had no clue what thoughts travelled through his mind, he rather enjoyed the company his bartender accomplice provided as well as the additional retorts she had stacked away to keep up with him. Sure she was attractive, had the wit and charm to keep him on his toes but he wasn’t even sure if he was willing to pursue it.

Noticing the man had struggled to even find an answer, she got off him and moved closer, placing a hand on his, “do you wanna talk someplace else?” Regardless of any feelings, she cared about him and had grown to care for the rest as time went on.

Some of the others had paused conversations to momentarily look at the two, Ajay had been deep in conversation with Octavio about a lot of things; the two of them had known each other so long now, but their conversation stopped as - like the others - stopped to watch Elliott and their friend interact.

“That looks serious O, yuh better make yuh move now or else Witt will take off wit’ her.” Ajay’s voice was hushed, the last thing she wanted was to arouse suspicion amongst the others and knowing how much of a chatty bunch the Legends could be — she didn’t want to humiliate Octavio like that. Lord knows he deserved it half the time, but not now and not over this.

He ran his hands through his hair, soft green tips poking through the gaps of his fingers. The memories planted in his mind so kindly resurfacing as he was forced to remember one particular night not all that long ago.

Several Weeks Ago*

It was a typical night for the lounge, although the usual bartender had the night off for her birthday. Spending this special occasion surrounded by the majority of the legends she drank to her heart's content and danced on as many tables as she could. Granted she fell off more tables than she could stay on one.

The last table she felt herself falling off of, she at least had someone down below to catch her. His turquoise coloured hair was the first thing she caught sight of and then it was the crooked grin spread across his lips.

“You should watch where your dancin’ chica! I won’t be able to catch you all the time!” He had shouted over the loud music. Her arms had fallen around his neck as he carried her to the safety of a lounge booth.

“Maybe I like it when you hold me,” her words were slurred ever so slightly, matching the goofy look on her face and the glazed look in her eyes. Nevermind she was drunk as ever, the words made him feel giddy, his palms beginning to sweat and his heart hammering.

He placed her down on the couch, her stubborn grip unmoving despite his best efforts. He chuckled to himself, feeling the weightlessness of the alcohol consumed, “if you don’t want to sit here, where would you like to go?”

She rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent which smelt mostly of pinewood with a vanilla fragrance and a hint of his own natural musk. She hummed to herself in a dazed thought, enjoying the warmth of the man that held her with little to no effort.

“How about we get you some fresh air chica?” He began heading upstairs to the rooftop balcony, knowing that if he had walked her out the front door like that it would raise some questions he wasn’t up to answering.

“I like this colour on you,” she mused, running her fingers through his hair.

The compliment alone lit a fire burning inside of Octavio, he never felt more alive than when he was with her. Something about her was just so exciting and intoxicating altogether. That feeling was just about mutual for her as well, finding the moments spent with Octavio were ones she always remembered.

He was grateful the night air chilled the heat he began omitting, seating his companion where she could overlook Solace City as the night drew on. He admired her features, the way the ambient neon lights bounced off her skin in a heavenly glow. She had an uncanny ability to light up a room with her smile alone, and her laugh was something he wished he could wake up to every morning.

It had been sometime ago Octavio caught feelings, he couldn’t quite place when or where or even how… But they were there and he was always first through the door at the lounge and ever so eager to make company alongside his favourite Bartender.

“Oh! Hermosa, I almost forgot!” He exclaimed, breaking the peaceful silence as he pulled out a small hand sized package from his pocket. It was a surprise to mostly everyone when the man arrived dressed up, considering his resentment towards functions like this.

She cautiously grabbed the box, surprised he had given her anything at all. But nonetheless grateful, the brisk air had begun clearing the fog in her mind, a smile pulled at the corner of her lips, “O… you didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did! I wanted you to know how much you mean to me — uh us! How much you mean to us,” he stumbled, recovering rather well despite how hard it was to control his blubbering mouth. He wondered if this is what it felt like to be Elliott, constantly tripping over words all the time.

An endearing expression pulled together on her face when the box was opened. The contents inside were photographs, capturing the night they had spontaneously explored the harbour of Solace City, swimming around and causing a ruckus. Another captured the night they had stowed away the woman on the drop ship when they were headed to Psamathe.

Many memories relived for her, reminiscing on the trouble particularly her and Octavio got up to together. The two caused nothing but trouble and yet they were a pair that complimented one another to an odd degree, considering the bartender had a uniquely boring life outside of Bartending.

Behind the final picture was but a simple necklace with an intricately designed charm, beautiful as it was, she put a hand to her heart and looked at the aloof man.

“Tavi… Thank you so much.” She stood up, pulling him into a hug, she inhaled his scent in more as her arms tightened around him. Her muscles relaxed when he hugged her back with equal enthusiasm, the two merely enjoying the moment together alongside the authentic noisecape of Solace.

It was a rather long drawn out hug, one that exceeded the normal timing of anything friendly. When she pulled away, she couldn’t seem to pull completely away, resting her hands on his chest as she continued looking into his eyes. The way the outer corners would crinkle every time he laughed or smiled, even that twinkle in his eye that was ever present was something that ignited a feeling of excitement within the young woman.

Neither of the two could quite recollect the night to the most accurate detail but it was Octavio who had leaned in first. Unable to break away from the enchanting way she looked that evening, her eyes, her hair, the way she dressed… It was all too much for him to not do anything about.

Their lips brushed together, the feeling alone sent tingles through both of them as they paused in unison with hesitancy. Ultimately it was Octavio’s companion that continued the delicate moment, sealing it with the most passionate of gestures as the space between them finally closed.

He had fucked up.

He was the one that ghosted her the weeks after that, unable to live with the possibility that their friendship could’ve been ruined. He refused to go to the lounge alone, in fear that he would be confronted with a face that was heartbroken. Yet, he watched on as Elliott drew that little bit closer to her as time went on, and now watching the two interact made his stomach drop and his heart ache.

It was his fault he pushed her away and now if he didn’t make amends, he would suffer in silence for far longer.

“O, yuh can’t pull the same shit with her like you do with me, ya hear?” Ajay was always so honest and blunt, it was the only way she could get through to her childhood friend. She knew his habits better than anyone.

Over by the couch, the comfy duo had gotten up and left the group which resulted in murmurs, granted they were just heading over to the bar and storage room, so hardly out of sight from most people present.

“El, you got me worried — what’s up?” She queried now out of earshot. His behaviour was more than questionable considering he was ever the charismatic charmer and never shut up about anything.

“Y-yeah I just… I’m just… Can we talk?”

She looked around, one of her eyebrows raised, “uhh… we’re talking now.”

His arms slumped by his side as he gestured to the storage room, making her go wide eyed and groan internally for her inability to pick up the subtle lingo, “oh of course.” Her cheeks flushed bright red as the two stepped out of view of the others present.

“Is everything okay?” She brought a hand up to Elliotts face, trying hard to read his eyes. His beard prickled the pads of her fingers, he slightly leaned into her touch and exhaled a deep breath.

His mind was a whirlwind of confusing and conflicting emotions, thoughts and feelings. Ultimately he came to the conclusion in his mind after so much thought, that this had been a mistake -- it was the first time in a long time he needed to not act out on impulse. Despite the banter, the small touches and gestures shared between them, Elliott was swiftly reminded of how things could end up if this ended poorly.

“I’m-I’m sorry —“

It was just too little too late, had he been just a second quicker his companion may not have read into things all too much. Seizing the opportunity to capture his lips in hers with a kiss.

Despite his futile attempt to take the moral high ground, he couldn’t help but melt into her touch, deepening the kiss as he put his hands on her waist. She could feel her heart hammering into her chest, knowing that the move she made was risky but it was definitely rewarding.

The two were so incredibly engrossed in the moment that it was no surprise neither had heard the door open, it was a loud curse that ruined the moment. Tearing the two apart from one another as both heads snapped toward the intruder.

“Are you fuckin’ for real?”

Her face fell upon seeing Octavio in the door frame, how upset he seemed to look having witnessed Elliott and his girl kissing. Regret, then panic and then anger happened upon her face, recalling the night of her birthday and the weeks proceeding it. A vivid callback to the way the speedster treated her.

“What the fuck’s your problem?” She backed away from Elliot, pointing her anger toward Octavio. How dare he? Come barging in, like he had the right to police her every move after ignoring her for weeks.

“Well I don’t know, maybe seeing your tongue halfway down Witt’s throat is my problem!” He shouted back, redirecting the same energy back onto her. A lot of emotions hit him when he opened that door, but none more than sadness. It was always such a pity that he had difficulties expressing the right emotions when it came to confrontations like this.

“Why is that a problem, you’re the prick that ignored me for weeks! You made your point crystal-fucking-clear!” She spat, her chest was heaving and her heart was hammering through the aches. If she looked him in the eyes she knew she would most likely break down into tears.

Poor Elliott looked between the two fighting parties, sure he was well equipped for the games and had dealt with his fair share of sibling fighting, but he had absolutely no idea or approach to alleviate this current situation. He was at least privy to the context of what happened a few weeks ago, he also remembered spending a great deal of time getting his bartender back to the cheerful and happy face he came to like so well.

Octavio was silent while he paced, he was aware he was the one that was to blame and he just couldn’t help but feel angry seeing anyone else with their hands on her. “You need to leave,” His tone was eerily calm, an arm outstretched as he pointed out the door, his eyes narrowed on Elliott.

She stood between them with a fierce look, “I think you need to leave, you don’t get to barge in here and act like you’re mad and upset!”

“It—it’s really fine… I’ll call you later…” Elliot knew that the best way for things to mend was for the two to talk it out — grateful that Octavio saved him from having one awkward conversation in the event things went south between the two.

He squeezed past the two, giving Octavio a polite pat on the shoulder on his way out, finally inhaling seemingly fresh air after being stuck in the tense room.

“Are you fucking serious, am I about to hear some fucking rehearsed bullshit like ‘oh you’re mine’ and ‘you can only fuck around with me’? New flash pal, we weren’t ever dating, we weren’t anything because you left me hanging.” She was pacing, fighting the urge to break down right then and there.

Her words were harsh, but nonetheless true. Octavio let out a deflated sigh, knowing if anyone was going to see through him it was most definitely her. It still angered him, the image of her and Elliott so close was scorned into his mind, “at least show some respect — Elliott, really? It’s like you’re trying to piss me off on purpose,” he folded his arms over his chest, eyes following her every move.

She scoffed, “you don’t get to be mad about that, asshole — I thought we had something… And now when I try to move past it, you pull me back into your bullshit.” Her finger was poking his chest to emphasise her point, he merely swayed subtly with every poke.

“Yeah and I thought it was pretty clear to everyone else that you’re my girl — imagine my surprise when I see Witt making his move on you, huh?”

“I’m not your anything!” She threw her hands up in the air, a pained look morphed onto her face. Emotions and thoughts clouded her mind and if she stayed too long on them, she was sure the tears would follow.

“Fine, then prove to me that I’m not the guy you want,” his movements were lightning fast, snatching her wrist at record speed and yanking her toward him. She stumbled slightly, pressed flush up against his chest and arms not holding onto particularly anything.

She wasn’t panicked, despite it all she still trusted Octavio and being this close to the man had always been comforting no matter what. But her anger at his attitude was hard to wash by, gritting her teeth and balling her fists up, “I don’t need to! you already—.”

His lips tasted like a mixture of the craft beer he had been drinking (no doubt one of Ajay’s picking) and the aftermath of the gum he had long spit out. Her anger subsided momentarily, lost in the heat of the moment while breathing in his scent and becoming putty under his touch.

“Fuck you,” She grumbled against his lips, her final act of defiance before she fully succumbed to the moment, to the feelings and listened to the butterflies in her stomach.

He deepened the kiss, guiding her until her back hit the storage shelves. Her hands cupped his neck and head desperately, as if he was going to leave her again. But for the first time in his life, Octavio wasn’t moving and he wasn’t going anywhere.

She nibbled on his bottom lip, earning herself a breathy groan from her companion. As he pressed into her, she could feel how hard he was, breaking away from the kiss and pressing meticulously placed kisses down his neck and across the nape of his neck.

As her teeth nipped a little too hard in one spot, Octavio jolted back, a chuckle escaping his lips, “you might wanna settle down Hermosa, I won't be able to control myself.”

“I’m counting on it.”

All of the fics from the Clone xReader Gift Exchange are up! If you missed some of the amazing fics written for this event, here is a list of them!! They are organized by character and are in alphabetical order by title. 

If you liked a story, consider reblogging it! Reblogs are a great way to show appreciation for an author’s work. reblogs to signal boost this list are greatly appreciated as well.

NSFW fics are strictly 18+ and are marked as such. 

Across the Stars by @wanderer-six (NSFW)

Somewhere to Start by @cioneo

The Way You Look Tonight by @miseries-mistress

Untitled by @mayonnaisepudding

Always by @writing-positivelyexisting

i told you not to follow me by @burningfieldof-clover

Sunshine by @moonlight-sonata99

Untitled by @techs-ass

don’t you know by @221bshrlocked (NSFW)

enough for you by @miaowshacat

Heart Made of Flesh by @dragonrider9905

Just in Time by @pizza-writes

Meeting the Family by @haven-is-happy

Not Just For Show by @ghostofskywalker

By Your Side Tonight by @toomanybandstocare

Challenge Accepted by @of-stardust-and-dreams

Open Your Eyes by @tecker

Crescendo by @wizardofrozz

Insidious Visions by @agenteliix

Let the Sun In by @exxasperatedauthor

The Escape by @chicknstripz

A Match Made in a Classroom by @melliejellybellybean

Begonias by @diviluscorner

Bleed For Love by anonymous (hosted on @staycalmandhugaclone)

Don't Be Afraid by @echos-girlfriend

Growing Into Love by @ladysongmaster

Jealous by @knightprincess

Personal Tastes by @l-lend

The Force Works in Mysterious Ways by @staycalmandhugaclone (NSFW)

Yours & Mine by @embeanwrites

Falling For You by @masterjedilenawrites

Born For This by @arctrooper69

Lucky by @snippy-tano

i remember... by @221bshrlocked (NSFW)

Into the Forest I Go by @fives-lover

it's always been you by @obixwan

It's Gonna be Fine? by @loving-the-cambridges

Just This Once, Everybody Lives by @l-lend

Precious Soul by @wizardmando

Slowly But Surely by @ghostofskywalker

This New Reality by @angelltheninth

Circumstance by @captainpains

Jogan Rolls For Two by @theunderscorekinginyellow (NSFW)

Logical by @photogirl894

Pretty Boy by @manofworm

Don't Let Me Go by @rainydaydream-gal18

Fine Line by @homie-one-kenobi

Pack Mentality by @corona-one

I Like You a Lot by @imarvelatthestars

lilac - chapter 3

miguel o’hara x f!reader

summary: your boyfriend doesn’t have the time anymore. good thing both miguel o’hara and spiderman do.

wc: 5.2k

tags/warnings: domestic dispute, unhappy relationship, pining, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of violence, allusions to suicide, mentions of strip clubs

author’s note: got a lil carried away with my emotions for this one ngl

Your pink pen pressed harshly down on the science quiz you were grading, smearing a pit of the sparkly ink as the searing noise of an electric guitar being tuned submerged your little apartment from the floors to the ceilings. You glared up from beneath your brows, a predator chained just inches from her prey, as Ferris and his band of four barked and howled between themselves in your living room. From your perch at the tiny dining table, you watched them, your knuckles paling around your pen. They had moved the furniture around to make room for their equipment, shoved your couch, your armchair, your coffee table - fuck, even your television stand - against the walls so that they could spread out and practice for a gig the drummer had managed to score; probably by going down on the manager of the place, but you’d never say that out loud.

Unless they provoked you - which, with every ticking, prolonged minute that passed, you were getting closer and closer to your inclined tipping point.

Sniffing quietly, you shook your head and tried to go back to grading your quizzes. So far, your class had done a fairly good job. A few percentages below eighty, but not many. No matter what score they got, however, you were sure to place a sticker on the corner of the page. Of course, as you had expected, Gabriella O’Hara’s score was a perfect hundred. A small smile graced the corner of your lips. She was a bright kid, you’d give her that. While she needed a little extra help in mathematics from time to time, she practically excelled in every other subject. You scribbled out a little note praising her for a job well done before beginning to move on to your other papers.

From the living room, another glass-shattering, skin-crawling shriek was raised from Ferris’ guitar. You twitched in your seat, subtly raising your eyes to watch the band. Your boyfriend was downing his second beer of the day, despite it being barely eleven in the morning, and he had his feet propped up on some chick’s - the new keyboard player, because the last one stormed out of the group after realizing what a bunch of asswipes they were - and idly strummed a lazy medley on the taut strings of his guitar. It was hooked up to the speaker, so every note that he twanged out was amplified tenfold.

Downstairs, your neighbor knocked against their ceiling with a broom. Telling you all to shut the fuck up, no doubt.

Taking a deep breath, you put on your best smile - which looked more like a grimace, actually - and cleared your throat. “Babe,” you said tightly, drawing Ferris’ attention away from the keyboard player. He regarded you with a roll of his head and hand on the strings to stop the vibrations. “Maybe it’s time to pack it up. You’ve been…” You hesitated. “Practicing for almost two hours now. Why don’t you save some of the music for the paying customers tomorrow instead of the neighbors?”

To your chagrin, like he was dumping fuel across the little flame that had flickered to life in your chest, he shrugged a shoulder and went back to his guitar and the girl across from him. “We’ll leave when we’re done,” he replied nonchalantly, eyes never meeting yours again. “Still got some more songs to run through.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed and went back to your work. “You look real fucking busy.”

“If you’re so tired of listening to us,” your boyfriend snapped suddenly, “why don’t you find somewhere else to go? This is my place too, you know.” He exhaled a venomous sigh and downed another swig from his bottle. “Always on my ass.”

By now, the rest of the apartment had gone silent. The other band members glanced between the pair of you, movements suddenly stiff with tension they had no idea how to release. It felt like no matter what they did, it would light the fuse on either one of you.

Feeling your cheeks heat and your palms become sticky with embarrassment, you swallowed thick and nodded your head slowly. Then you stood, began to gather your papers, and stuffed them into your purse.

“Hey,” said the band’s drummer, a pudgy guy with thick lenses that had, actually, always been nice to you despite their leader’s obvious intentions, “if you need us to clear out, we can. We can find another place to set up where we’re not bothering you.”

You released a short huff, sounding more akin to a snarl than anything else. It seemed your judgment in men really was shit; you’d chosen the wrong fucking band member. “That’s okay,” you spat as you tugged on your shoes and checked that you had your keys. The drummer’s face flashed with guilt and you felt bad for a moment, but then your eyes flickered to where Ferris had wandered into the kitchen to fetch himself another drink. Like a raging wildfire, the flames in your ribcage roared and seared your insides, making them feel like you’d implode upon yourself if you stayed here - in your own damn home - any longer. “I’ll go somewhere else.”

With that you exited your apartment and slammed the door behind you, not stopping your frantic escape from Ferris’ snarls and rolling eyes until you hit the street down below. Before you on the road, traffic moved at a sluggish pace. Horns blared and street lights flickered. Shop fronts gleamed in the sunlight and bells over doors jingled. As you took a long, deep inhale that granted your lungs a wave of fresh air and your eyes with a certain wetness in the corners, you realized your crumbling relationship with your boyfriend was such a trivial little thing in this city. Nothing was going to stop, halt in its tracks, just because your world was falling apart.

Life went on. There was nothing you could do to stop that.

Plopping yourself down on the bus stop bench, you placed your head in your hands and tried to keep yourself from crying anymore. You couldn’t let anyone else see you cry, because what if they did, and they turned out to be like Ferris? Told you that you were being dramatic, that you needed to pull yourself together and be a girl? Fuck, you didn’t think you could handle someone else telling you that. You didn’t need anyone else against you; it already felt like the entire world was.

What you needed, desperately, terribly, pleadingly, was someone else in your corner.

In your pocket, your phone chimed with an incoming text. Wiping away the tears sitting heavy against your lids, you pulled it out. It was an unknown number; your cyber security app had blurred the message, waiting until you accepted to see it. You swiped on the blurred screen, then clicked open the message.

Hi, it’s Miguel O’Hara. I hate to cross any lines here, but Gabriella is having a hard time understanding the homework assigned for this weekend. I tried to help, but it’s beyond me. Some sorry excuse for a geneticist I am, right? Anyway, I was texting to ask if you’d be able to meet us somewhere today and help Bri. I was thinking the public library? We’re going to be headed to the park afterward for soccer practice… you’re welcome to come along. She’s eager to show you a new trick she learned yesterday. Again, excuse my forwardness. We understand if you’re not available. :)

You sniffled slightly, rereading the text over and over again, trying to stuff down the fluttering feeling arising past the flames inside you. Your head snapped up and you were on your feet in less than a moment, hailing the first taxi that passed you. When you climbed inside, the driver asked you where to.

“The public library,” you said, and managed a smile at him in the mirror.

Half an hour later, you sat at a desk in the middle of the study section of the New York Public Library, already having drawn out fresh sketches and examples of the mathematics homework you had assigned for this weekend. Your foot bounced with anticipation under the table, and you found yourself constantly glancing over your shoulder at the wide, arched doorway that let into the private section.

You’d tutored students outside of class before, so you shouldn’t have been so excited. You’d met with them in diners and cheap restaurants, outdoor pavilions when the weather allowed, hell - you’d even sat with them outside their cramped apartment buildings on overturned milk crates and used cardboard as a back for the worksheets while their parents were busy working three jobs and balancing five other kids on their hips at the same time. You weren’t one to judge; you knew how hard it was out here for some people. You were a teacher; it was your job to love and nurture and teach your kids, no matter who they were or where they came from.

So you shouldn’t have been this excited to tutor one of your students. Even if she did have a smoking hot dad.

Small, quick-paced footsteps - like thunderclaps along the ground in the nearly-silent room - pricked your ears and turned your attention to the doorway. A wide, easy grin broke across your lips as you spied Gabriella breaking away from her father’s side to rush toward you and your table. In her arms she carried a wrapped bouquet of flowers. When she reached where you had risen from your seat, she pressed her face into your belly in lieu of a hug.

“Hi, Miss Y/N,” she said, rather loudly, then presented the flowers like they were sterling silver encrusted with diamonds and jewels unimaginable. An ear-to-ear smile stretched from one of her ears to the other. “These are for you.”

Miguel arrived behind her, a backpack slung over his shoulder and a gentle grin of greeting gracing his beautiful face. He tilted his head at you for a moment, then ruffled his daughter’s hair and said, “What are they for?”

“A thank you,” Gabriella rushed to say as you accepted the bouquet. “For coming to help me.”

You tried to squash the butterflies that fluttered through your stomach when he smiled at you, instead pushing your focus to the flowers clutched to your chest. They were fresh blooms, a collection filled with pinks and purples and a few yellows here and there. “Well, thank you so much, sweetheart,” you said as she rounded the table to go and sit by her father. “They’re beautiful.” You took your seat again and carefully set the gift beside your purse. “And you don’t have to thank me. I was already out today anyhow, so it wasn’t any trouble.”

“Really?” said Miguel. He pulled the bag from over his shoulder and gave it to Gabriella for her to begin pulling her schoolwork out. He quirked one of his thick brows, his sad-looking eyes meeting yours. Jolts of excitement, and pleasure, and adoration went sprawling down your spine all at once, like back to back shocks of raw, untamed electricity. “I figured you would have been staying in during a tourist weekend like this.”

You wanted so badly to tell him just what you were doing out, why you weren’t at home enjoying your two days of free time between your two jobs - one that required every bit of your soul and heart during the day, and another that required every bit of your body during the night. You wanted horrendously to confide in him the troubles plaguing you like an illness only he could cure you from, wanted him to secure those thick, sinewy arms of his around your form and hold you tight, assure you in that husky tone that everything would be alright.

But instead, all you said was, “Can’t let tourists drive us locals from our stomping grounds, can we, Mister O’Hara?”

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards, his eyes stuck upon your form even after you’d pulled your attention to the worksheet Gabriella had pulled out.

For a long while, the three of you sat at that table in the library. You taught Gabriella the maths lesson over again as many times as she needed it, helped her with the more challenging problems on the worksheet, then made up a few on the spot to give her for the extra practice. You even tilted around your textbook so that Miguel could see it and gave him a rundown of the next few lessons so that he could help her the following week, should she need it.

It was perhaps an hour or so later when you sat back in your chair, watching as your student set to work on the few practice problems you’d given her. You shut your eyes for a moment, exhaling a long breath, and allowing your brain to shut off for a moment. You’d succeeding in getting Ferris and his stupid, stubborn fucking attitude off your mind for a time, but now you were faced with the realization that sometime today, you’d have to go back home. You’d have to see him again, most likely get into another argument that would lead to one of you sleeping on the couch the next couple evenings.

Most likely you.

“How are you doing?” came Miguel’s voice from across the table.

You thought for a moment he was speaking to his daughter, looking over her work, but when no reply came, you opened your eyes and realized he was talking to you. You blinked a few times, watching as he smirked kindly and crossed his arms over the table. Fuck, he was so easy to look at. He was wearing a t-shirt against the sunny day today, giving you a generous view of the muscles in his arms. They sloped down to his elbows, and further still to wrists wrapped in Gabriella-made friendship bracelets, to large, wide hands that were callused at the fingers and bruised at the knuckles. You wondered briefly if he boxed during his workouts.

Sliding your hand up your face, you gave him a tired smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. Despite only speaking to one another a few minutes every time at pick up and drop off, you felt you could talk to him better than even the girls at your nighttime job. “I’m alright,” you said, then added, “Just… tired, is all. Lots on my plate right now. Work, stuff at home, the whole ‘masked vigilante swinging around the city’ thing. Well… you know how it is.”

It was not the last detail that seemed to faze him. It was the second. “Is everything okay?” he asked, tilting his head to the side slightly, like that of a curious puppy. The lines beneath his eyes deepened a bit, the untamed hair atop his head slipped to his temple. “Sorry if I’m overstepping a boundary, or anything like that. I just -”

“No, you’re alright.” You reached out to finger at a petal on one of the flowers in the bouquet, fondly brushing the delicate thing as if it would disintegrate if you handled it any rougher. His eyes followed your movements deftly. “And, everything’s… okay. Sort of… okay.” You sighed and pulled away from the flower, instead opting to rub at your temples. “Just drives me out sometimes, you know? Everything… happening in those walls. Sometimes it gets too much.”

“You’re never out on the streets, are you?” Suddenly his gaze had turned serious and stony, his mouth set into a hard line across his chiseled expression.

You swallowed thick, feeling the dropped baritone of his voice hit the bottom of your belly and head south to your core. You shifted slightly in your seat, crossing your legs over one another to mask the subtle movement. “No, never.” Forcing yourself to chuckle, you dropped a hand to the desk. “You don’t have to worry about me, Mister O’Hara. I’m just fine.”

Before you realized what was happening, Miguel had reached out to brush his long, thick fingers over your knuckles. Your skin was suddenly alight with a blaze you didn’t even know existed. He leaned forward slightly across the table, lowering his voice so that only you heard it in the cage between your ribs. “It’s alright to ask for help, you know,” he murmured quietly. You were caught in his gaze, unable to pull yourself away. “If you ever need something, some place to stay… our door is open.”

Your tongue had ceased its ability to work, your heart its ability to beat properly. You could only stare at him, wide-eyed, as he settled back in his chair. Miguel O’Hara had just offered you his home. Fuck - he knew. He had to have known. Maybe he could see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice when you whispered; maybe it trembled too much. Or maybe he could just sense it, feel it from the bottomless pit in your soul screaming out for someone to pull it back into the daylight.

Just when you trusted yourself to speak again, both your and Miguel’s phones alerted at the same time. Across the study section, other devices went off, as well. Simultaneously, you pulled out your cells and read the messages scrawled across the screens.

“Jesus,” you muttered upon scanning the message. A kidnapping had just taken place not a block from the library. Car details and plate numbers were attached, along with an urging for anyone with information to call the authorities. “This city gets worse every day.”

Miguel glanced up at your words, hesitated, then looked down at Gabriella. She was still busy with her work, tongue stuck out gently between her pink lips. You sensed him tense from across the table.

“...Miguel?” you asked, tentative to use his first name. “Is everything okay?”

After a short, brief moment, he seemed to make up his mind about something. He stood from his chair so abruptly that it squealed softly against the tile floor, throwing the backpack over his shoulder and rounding the table. “Excuse me just a second,” he said, already heading toward the doorway. “I have to make a call. Ten minutes, tops.” Then he was gone, jogging too quickly and hurriedly to be making a phone call - or so you thought. You wanted direly to follow him, see what he was doing, but you couldn’t. You had your student to take care of.

Inhaling shortly, you turned to Gabriella only to find her staring at the doorway her father had disappeared through. You were quick to find something to change the subject. “These flowers are so pretty,” you told her and nudged the bouquet slightly. She met your eyes, your gentle smile, and it seemed Miguel’s sudden absence was wiped from her mind. So was the inner workings of a nine year old.

“I got to pick them out,” she said proudly, then went back to her worksheet. “But it was Daddy’s idea to get them for you.”

Your heart skipped a beat in your chest. You did your best to maintain your smile, trying not to grasp at your chest and stop the oncoming heart attack making its way through your systems. It had been Miguel to get the flowers? “Yeah?” you said in a small voice.

Oblivious to your strained tone and the excited bouncing of your leg under the table, the little girl nodded and hummed. “Uh-huh. He like-likes you. He told me so.”

Holy fucking goddamn son of a bitch.

You cleared your throat because you knew if you talked about this any longer, you would explode into a little cloud of confetti. Then you’d never even get to see him again, look at him in this new light because fuck, was it a new light. It was a new light you could dance under, twirl and sing and jump under, because no one was going to judge you anymore, and even better, now you could invite him to be under it with you. And you knew you just might have a chance of him saying yes.

And fuck, what a dance that would be.

“Are you excited for the field trip to Alchemax on Tuesday?” you asked her, recalling the months it had taken Washington Elementary’s principal to get permission to bring classes there. She had insisted it was an important place for them to visit, considering all the work they were doing as of late. You guessed your suggestion for a trip to the zoo had been vetoed. “Your dad works there. Maybe we’ll see him. You can brag to all your friends that he’s a fancy scientist.”

“Maybe,” she said, scratching out a wrong answer on her paper. “He works on the seventh floor. I’ve seen his work badge thing. We probably won’t be able to go up there.”

“Here’s hoping we can,” you said to yourself beneath your breath.

Ten minutes passed since Miguel’s sudden disappearance, and then another. Thirty minutes was just approaching, as was the beginnings of sundown, before you sensed him approaching you from behind. Turning in your chair, the first thing you noticed was that he was out of breath, sweating at his temples and down his neck slightly. God, he looked good like that. But then your rational side kicked in. Had he been running somewhere?

“I think that’s enough homework for today,” he said as he reached the table and ruffled Gabriella’s hair again. She batted his hand away, but nonetheless began to pack up her things. As she did so, he switched his gaze to yours, tilting his head in that way he did. “We’re going to head to the park, kick a ball around for a while. You’re welcome to join us, if you like.”

Numbly, because now that you knew he not only liked you, but like-liked you, you heard yourself accept and follow them out the doors of the library and onto the street. The deep purple sky felt a bit brighter than before, and the steps you took together, side by side, seemed a little closer than necessary. The sidewalks were cramped, sure, but not enough so that your hands needed to brush every few seconds. Not enough so that your shoulders bumped when you stepped off curbs to cross roads.

The park was quiet this time of day, occupied only by a few elderly couples leaning against walking canes and teenagers out past their curfews sprawled out on benches making out like they knew they were going to die tomorrow.

How long had it been since you had kissed Ferris? The saddest part of you knew that you couldn’t recall.

For hours, you sat on the sweet-smelling grass of the park’s lawn and watched Miguel and Gabriella scrimmage, kicking around a ball worn by years of scuff marks and green stains from fields. The breeze blew their matching hair this way and that, the dying sunlight illuminated their identical smiles as they round about one another in only a way a parent and a child could know one another. You cheered when either scored a goal. You laughed when they called one another names. And when they urged you to come join, even though the night was throwing itself over the sky and the stars were beginning to wink down at the park, you got to your feet and played.

You realized, through your aching laughter and the grass stains on your knees, that you hadn’t been this happy in a very, very long time.

That night, after you had wished Miguel and Gabriella a goodnight and walked home, after you had found Ferris crashed out in bed and the dishes still in the fucking sink, you found yourself sitting on the rooftop of your apartment building. It wasn’t quite silent up here, not with the helicopter chopping in the distance, or the occasional honk of a car down below, or the dog barking three stories down, but it was better than facing the quiet of your own home. You knew you would go mad in between those damned four walls, listening to your boyfriend snore and the clock in the kitchen tick and the floorboard creak when you walked to the bathroom.

You couldn’t face the quiet, not after the wonderful, deafening, blaring joy of this afternoon.

You let your legs dangle off the edge of the rooftop, sitting back on your hands and staring at the glaring screen of your phone. Your thumb ached slightly from scrolling through anything and everything you could find to keep yourself distracted. The newest clean energy replacement from Alchemax. The latest from politics. The child that had been kidnapped this afternoon, now home and safe, thanks to Spiderman snatching the kid from the backseat before plowing the speeding car with the kidnapper into a metal gate.

There came the soft, muted noise of a weight landing on the power box on the rooftop behind you, and you whipped around to find a familiar - but no less startling - red and blue figure sitting perched on the metal edge. Spiderman tilted his head at you, balanced on the balls of his feet despite the hulking frame of his muscles.

“Just came to check up on you after the other day,” he said through the mask. His eye lenses moved as his eyes roamed your figure. “Didn’t know you were this far gone.”

Clicking your phone off anxiously, feeling your heart thunder in your ears, you gave a little laugh and looked down at the drop beneath your feet. “I think if I was ready to end it,” you joked in return, “I’d go for something a little less traumatizing for pedestrians.”

Spiderman was still for a moment. Then he extended his wrist, and a string of web shot across the rooftop to stick to the space on the lip beside you. He used it to yank himself across the tarmac of the roof, landing again on the balls of his feet on the edge. He shifted himself, resting his forearms overink his thighs, and turned his masked gaze to the city before you both. Golden lights twinkled from skyscrapers and apartments and office buildings, creating a constellation of life between windows. The night air was crisper up here - as crisp as it could get, what with the smog from arsonist fires and churning factories and gas emissions - and the stars seemed to shine just a touch brighter.

“So… how are you doing?” the vigilante asked, keeping his gaze on New York. “After the robbery, I mean. Something like that, it can… stay with you.”

There came a fluttering in your heart. But rather than express such a sensation, because you had every right to be wary about giving yourself away anymore, you said, “It wouldn’t be the first thing like that to happen to me. And I’m sure it won’t be the last.” You lifted a hand to the star-lit city, crowded to the rim with life and hatred and love. “We’re in New York. What more can you expect from a city like this?”

For a long while, neither of you said anything more. It was strange being so close to the man everyone had been talking about for the couple weeks he’d been active - so close you could lean right over and pull that mask off. But you kept your distance.

Spiderman took a breath and said, “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shrugged a shoulder. “As if I typically sleep at this time anyway.” Then you turned to face him again, locking your ankles together over the edge of the rooftop. The breeze swayed your hair back and forth, like you were suspended underwater. The tension in your lungs certainly felt that way. “Did you enjoy the show the other night?”

He was still for a moment. For two. Then he met your gaze through his mask, his eye lenses narrowing. Even through the cover that hid his face, the heat of his eyes scorched holes through you. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Feeling slightly bolder than you had a moment ago, you lolled your head at him. “You know what I mean.” You sniffed, leaning back on your hands. “Did you follow me? Or was it just a coincidence that Spiderman showed up to my club the day he saved my ass?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“...Sure.” You felt a flutter of embarrassment within you, of doubt and guilt. What if that hadn’t been Spiderman that night at The Menagerie? What if it was some other guy, with some other scar on his collarbone, and you had gotten it all wrong? Despite your sudden worry, you refused to let your confidence waver. “So… do you make it a habit of checking up on every person you help?”

For the first time, you watched and listened as he cracked a smile and chuckled. The lenses over his eyes narrowed as his cheeks rose and his mouth spread into a smirk. You watched the bit of mask over his lips stretch. “You got me there,” he drawled in that low, husky tone of his that made you cross your legs a bit tighter, squeeze your thighs tighter. “Just… couldn’t really get you off my mind. You’ve got courage, saying no to that guy. That’s admirable.”

You felt your cheeks flush. Spiderman? Calling you brave? What an ironic sense of humor the universe had.

“I guess someone has to stand up and say no,” you murmured into the breeze.

“Yeah. Someone has to.”

Moments turned into seconds, and those turned into minutes. You almost wished you could stay like this forever; here, on the rooftop with Spiderman, with the breeze rustling your hair and the car horns beeping and the rest of the world forgotten.

But all too soon, it was over.

Spiderman rose to his full height in a seamless transition, turning his head to face the street away from you. “Should get back now,” he said, then switched his gaze down to you. You wondered, behind that mask, what color his eyes were. “Sure you’re not going to jump?”

You felt yourself smile. “Promise, Spiderman.” You watched as he nodded his head, then prepared to catapult himself off the building and swing onto the next one. Before he could, however, you called out. “And hey,” you said, drawing his attention, “if you ever drop by the club again, ask for the Monarch.”

He stared at you for the longest moment. Then he turned, stepped off the lip of the rooftop, and disappeared.

You didn’t bother leaning over, watching him spring a web from his wrist to flip through the air and parade down the street above the cars and streetlights. Instead you looked back to the city’s skyline far above yourself, silhouettes of buildings framed by a rich violet horizon.

Perhaps one day, you would see what it looked like without all this smog and the army of dark clouds hanging over it.

But for now, you were content with watching it darken until it was nothing but black and purple.

tags: @mooomeadows @twentysomethingwereyote @screamforyani @fangirlreice7 @axdjelx @ornamentalnecromancy @faust-pda @ilikethemoon28 @mrm-pachypoda @wadafrick @natthernandez @bakgoktski @soupsexsunsalutationsss @roxannarichie @lovagirlxxx @soggyeyeballsss @yoyoyoyoyo55555 @sophipet @quantii @lavnderluv @cookiezxx @euphorica @its-a-polyglot @nicalysm @maxi-ride @exzidss @crappwr0m @femme-is-dead

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Silly doodle bc it was the first thing I thought of when I saw Pomni.

once i beat the depression and the burnout and the anxiety and the loneliness and the exhaustion and the guilt and the awkwardness and the apathy and the low income and the chronic illness and the impatience and the vulnerability and the creative block and the capitalism and the cruelty THEN you'll see

This is Anakin coded, that's it, that's the post

Are you alive

Don’t ask me no personal shit like this

my favorite sdv media is things that preserve the chaos of the farmer. i want emotional fanfictions where the farmer gifts Shane a singular egg in the morning on his way to work and he falls in love. i want elliott to watch the farmer eat raw seaweed fresh from the sea. being a farmer in stardew valley is incredibly chaotic and i am here for it