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tarjapearce · 10 months

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Bad Teachings (Pt. 6)

Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

WARNINGS: Strained Relationships, Anxiety, Abusive Parenting, implied emotional breakdown, awkward emotional distress handling, Awkwardness. Tension, comfort. Mild fluff.

Summary: Lost wars can bring the most unexpected of comforts.

Hope you like ✨

Pt. 7

Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated 💕

Feel like this song is perfect for the chapter:

------

Fingers were about to type a reply but stopped. What use would be?

Ignoring him seemed the best option, your head had wasted enough energy in his antics, your brain had gone kaput when trying do decipher him. This is what you've gotten in return. You looked around, your little world. It couldn't be unbothered with external things, it was your fortress. The only place you allowed yourself to be you.

Annoyingly fixated into get a knitting technique right, collector of nail polishes, silly socks with passive self deprecating messages embroidered on them, face masks and beauty products; lingerie that was too pretty to not have even though, you'd flaunt it to none but yourself, a whole file in your phone of you in boudoir looking pictures was the proof.

A sucker for tragic romances, an avid exotic food consumer, and by exotic you'd mean the middle eastern all you can eat buffet located a couple blocks away your building.

Fan of feminine looking shoes but wouldn't turn down a camping day, and get muddy even, get imperfect. Humanly flawed instead of presenting yourself to the world as an 'expensive doll' as Hobie had called you.

Of course you liked to dress up, but to do it every single day had turned into a task, like any other adult thing around you.

A sigh of yours merely filled in the place before going to sleep. You wouldn't go to Miguel’s, a trip to knowing a new place was far more interesting than dealing with whatever was bothering him. A bit of regret for offering previous help cocooned into your head.

----

The biological clock in you, got you used to wake up at 7, made you to rose from bed, put some of that new international blend coffee you had bought yesterday to simmer; then you'd move to clean up the little mess in the kitchen you had done last night: a plate, a fork and a strawberry printed glass.

You then organized your toiletries in the bathroom, and began a strict yet short skincare routine. Washing face, moisturizing, and sun blocking. Then you went to the closet, something you had promised yourself to always organize once you had the time.

You went for a pair of palazzos, a ruffled skirt and some pointy flats, but changed your mind last minute, and rather picked a brown jacket, black joggers, sneakers and a turtleneck shirt. Comfy for a day of walking around in a cool day.

At eight you had eaten breakfast, and if it wasn't for the door knocking, you could've washed the dishes again and probably take a shower. Momma standing in the doorway screamed a whole new plan. Hide or run.

"M-Mom."

"Hey baby." She hugged your surprised form and made herself at home. You held her purse as you closed the door.

"I-I was gonna call you yesterday but some stuffs just showed up and I forgot." The words rushing out of your mouth.

She cleared her throat and you snapped to put the purse next to her.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"A bit of coffee would be great"

Nodding you went to the kitchen, a tight and uncomfortable knot coiled tightly in your stomach, anxiety was just warming up.

"I see you're still having a hard time adjusting to this new... place." She observed as her eyes toured the livingroom. Your college books although lined up in the corner, still were in the floor along some other items. Like a small potted cactus and a collection of old DVDs.

" Oh... Im... just busy. That's all." You offered the cup of coffe, she took a sip and scrunched her nose. You just stood there, at lost on what to actually say. It was rare when they paid you a visit in college, and even then their stay were only a couple of hours.

"Too strong." She hummed in disapproval and your eyes casted away .

Here we go...

"You have some... interesting neighbors. Just saw a young man that I'm sure that wouldn't pass an airport check up for the many piercings in his face."

Your expression faltered at her sneering, a bit of frown in your eyebrows.

"He's a good person."

"I didn't say he wasn't darling, a little bit more of... normalcy wouldn't hurt him."

Your eyes darted away from her, your face now solemn.

"Uhm, I don't wanna sound rude but-"

"You have somewhere to go?"

"Yes. I... I actually do."

"Oh? Didn't know you had gotten yourself some real friends "

Your lips pursed, trying to keep her comments at bay.

"I'm working on it."

"I'm sure. I mean, pen pals don't actually count since you can't hang around-"

"Mom."

She sighed and pushed the cup away. Your cue to retrieve it, like the coffee had offended her greatly.

"A little visit at home wouldn't bad for you, you know? We miss you."

We sounded pretty much a one sided word. You put the cup on the sink, not truly wanting to engage into her game.

"I promise to visit as soon as I can." The flatness in your tone could be tasted miles away

"That's what you said two months ago, sweetie."

"I wasn't having as much free time as you think I am, mom. There was this new campaign... and I was ontop of it." you back still facing her.

The fortress shook.

"Ah, honey. I know your job is frustrating and quite busy, but a little hello mom, I'm fine. Can I stay for weekend?, wouldn't harm you. Just look at you, it's okay to be an stress eater, but you have to keep your mouth in check."

The stab was dug deeper. Your fortress was now crumbling.

"You know I worry about you, right?

What a fucked up way to show it.

You just nodded, dread creeping up your face as she pushed a strand of hair behind your pierced ear. You flinched, it was still tender.

"What is that?"

"Nothing. Just something stupid-"

She cupped your cheeks softly and you froze, she took a long and dispraising look at it as she sighed.

"Jesus, it's just a stupid piercing! Don't worry about it."

You pried yourself away from her touch, like her hands had burnt you.

She frowned

"Anyone with a respectable reputation in your workplace could see you not fit-"

"Not fit for what, mom?" Your fingers pinched your nose bridge. Anger simmering below the surface.

"You are meeting important people, honey. You can't go around looking like that. You must look-"

"Perfect." You nearly seethed the word, "I know."

You poured the coffee on the sink. She just watched you for a second. Your hands scrubbing the lipstick stain off the cup furiously she was surprised that the thing didn't break in your hands. She just sighed and grabbed her purse.

"If you want, I could help you getting this place-"

"I'll take care of it." voice firmer than you had intended to.

Her eyes remained on you for a bit too long and then she nodded.

"Call us, okay?" You opened the door for her, eyes refusing to meet her.

"Love you, cupcake"

"I know."

The words bitter tasting in your tongue as they rolled off. The door closed and your fortress was in shambles.

Your mouth exhaled a shaky and almost whimpering breath. You needed to escape, your little world had been compromised and you weren't sure to stand the emotional chaos that was left. Everything you had built was now on the floor, just like your overall mood.

Normalcy? Stress eater? Perfect? You were sure none of those applied to you.

The battlefield had alot of your hurt and blood sprawled all over it, your face was still smeared by a forceful and imposing touch that was devoid of kindness as the knife she had plunged remained deep in your chest.

You didn't know exactly where this attitude and perfectionism had came, but ever since you had turned into a certain age, she'd give little comments here and there that would eventually lead you to your current state. Fucked up, yet moisturized. God, you couldn't wait to be home again and cry your hearts contempt.

Laughing almost bitterly at the realization that you now had to schedule your emotions accordingly. At least you still felt something. And right now, you just wanted to go back to bed and cry, the battle hadn't reached your safest spot, something you were grateful for.

Heart pounded miles per hour, chest constricting and head spinning made you support at the kitchen's sink. Pain pricked your eyes, but a still rational part of you grounded you with a deep exhale. You showered and got ready. Filled in your portable mug with coffee and left.

You had bought a little blt sandwich in the way, you parked and blinked away the stubborn tears that refused to leave without being shed. Patting a bit too rough your cheeks you took the mug, secured the car and went up the elevator.

Nervousness too preoccupied with it's own business to show up, a subtle anger had taken over. Miguel's doorbell was rang.

You looked at your phone's clock. 10 am.

The door opened and you were met with a surprised then a mild furrowing glance. His mouth went ajar but quickly shut it. The words he intended saying, died before anything as he studied your face. Nose a bit red from the previous sniffling.

"Come in." He'd mumbled and you entered, making your way to your work spot as last time. To your surprise his place looked a mess. Some clothes sprawled on his couch, a couple of dirty dishes on his sink, Curtains drawn in, place felt heavy and fusty.

"Go to the living room."

"Same as last time?"

"Pretty much, Yeah." He'd notice the metallic coffee flask on your hands. There was no coffee for him this time.

"You hungry?"

"Already had breakfast. Thanks." You went to the living room and began working. You were avoiding his stare as much as you could, any contact really.

He sat on the couch as you were already organizing files. A million questions popped up in his mind. Why had you stopped messaging him? You seemed unbothered by that, but rather hassled by something else.

Your pouty lips, set in a neutral line, eyes way too gone in a place he couldn't get permission to access just yet, your movements smooth yet void of the remarks you'd do of his work. There was no information sharing, no feedback. No praising from your end. Just silence.

He exhaled and focused on his share of files. You were usually the one that started the little conversations between the both, but after those two weeks of silence from your end, he would expect you asking him the why's and the like. And not that he'd remain silent. He had a valid excuse.

He'd be jumbled up in a room with a new working team as you were messaging him, all of them made noise, noise as in irrelevant ideas and complaining about the new upcoming project but none really offered solutions. He had been annoyed, greatly. His anger was misdirected and now he was neck deep in this predicament.

"Are you angry?" The question itself was stupid, he knew much, but it was the only sort of conclusion his million dollar brain could come up with.

"No." A half truth, "I just happen to have my own problems too." Snappy. He raised an eyebrow to you, genuine confusion on it.

"Besides, I'm just rolling with what you said"

What he had said? The only interaction you had was the text... Oh. Realization hit him like a gloved slap on his face. He went on your message log and reviewed the conversation again.

—That pretty much sums it up

I see—

Fuck. You had taken his words at heart and had just left him be. An apology, that's what you needed, so maybe the heavy and dementor-like aura that irradiated from you would dissipate. What had happened? Cause anything that would make you come here, instead of being somewhere else, had to be grave enough to force yourself in this situation with him.

His belly grumbled after a couple of hours.

"Feeling hungry?" You shook your head

"Got my own lunch, thanks."

Another ammo wasted. His eyebrows knitted together a bit deeper. You were almost done with the first file.

"You should eat."

"I'm not hungry yet." At least you were talking. Barely glancing his way but talking. He ordered some food and finished his file.

He could do it on his own, really, the I need help sort of thing was just a bait to see if you'd still be around. These two weeks had been draining and antsy for him. At first he thought nothing of you, maybe you got busy as well. But as the silence kept stretching, things just spiraled between concern and vexation for him.

Concern because it was usually you the one that most, if not always started the little conversations between the both. They weren't precisely both ways, he also noted, mostly of him replying to whatever random question you'd pop him. But engaging completely, it was only when you were face to face, and even so, he'd still keep you on the surface.

And then, the vexation of the sudden realization of you growing tired of him, for real this time, had sent him reeling into over thinking when the answer you gave him was pretty simple.

I'm just rolling with what you said.

And still everything he had to do was to text back. Yet he didn't.

The fact that you could adapt easily on his words made him both impressed yet again, concerned. You took things at heart. He had to be specific and clear when it came to communicating with you. Great.

You weren't precisely a parrot around him, but the silence you could devote yourself was quite out of your amiable persona. You were snappy, teary eyed, closed off, shut down. You had definitely came here in order to escape from something.

A boyfriend? The thought made him chuckle inwardly, so far what you had told him about yourself quickly erased the idea. Of course he'd listen and pay attention. He just didn't know exactly what to pry from you. He wasn't making an effort in keeping you around either.

Meaning, that he'd always act aloof and detached around people that would eventually leave his life.

Assumptions, really.

He didn't know when that would happen and he was already making sure to severe ties. Coping perhaps? He didn't even know. All that he was certain of was that you weren't yourself and that was partially thanks to him.

His mouth was about to speak when your hand put a strand of hair behind your ear. Three hooped earrings adorning the upper lobe. And by the redness around each pierce, he'd say it was recent. Was this how you faced your problems? Inflicting pain on yourself?

He frowned.

"That's new." Uncertainty just pushed him into a brash mode that eventually would lead him into lash out when cornered. And right now you were leaving him with little options

Your eyes trailed to him, as he gestured over his ear. The piercings. Right.

"Did it yesterday."

"Does it hurts?"

You shook your head as you went for the other file.

"Hobie is a pro at it."

Hobie?

His eyes squinted trying to remember.

The punk guy you had for a neighbor, of course. It was a little too cliché, perhaps.

"Why three and not just one?"

"I wanted to, alright?"

You snapped and he held his hands in defense.

Jesus..

You sighed and shook your head.

"Sorry, just... Nevermind that. Can we focus on working, please?"

A clear I don't wanna talk about it. Or more like I don't wanna talk.

"Sure."

-----

Your phone buzzed as you were transferring the files to him. The name

' Lucio Work' displayed on your screen.

"Excuse me." You stood up from the floor and picked up the call.

From what he could see, you were tense. Arms tightly wrapped around you, like shielding yourself from anything that would hurt you further. Your back turned to him.

"No, it's fine. Really. Will check that up as soon as I get home." Your voice flat, absentminded as you focused on the floor.

"Right. Bye."

A deep sigh.

"I must go."

"It's fine, you finished early anyways."

You stared at him, waiting.

I'm sorry.

His eyes sized you. His lips trapping the apology, and that only made your hands tighten in fist briefly. You picked up your flask and the half eaten sandwich. This time you made sure your tools were with you.

"Guapa..." you felt anything but. You needed air, space even from the suffocating feeling on your chest. And needed it now.

"I-I gotta go." You hands fumbled with your belongings as you rushed to his door. Escaping. Again.

"Wait-"

You were gone. His hands were placed on his waist. There was no apology, but a wider rift between you. He sighed again, for the umpteenth time. He had fucked up.

----

Entering home felt returning to the aftermaths of a lost war. Cold empty space, the drip dropping of the kitchen sink was the only thing that made an effort to acknowledge your arrival. You pulled out the remnants of the BLT and ate just the bacon, discarding the soggy rest.

Your head pounded. Miguel’s eyes popped in your mind. He looked like he had the apology on the tip of his tongue, but pride was bigger than him. Expectations were set incredibly high only to be crushed later. It was the cherry ontop of a messy cake.

You made your way to your bedroom to transform yourself into a more comfy appearance. Hair pulled up in a messy bun as you removed bit by bit your clothes, leaving yourself naked before the mirror.

Flawed.

Your hands explored, prodded and touched your skin. The feeling of unpleasant textures under the pads of your fingertips made you turn away from the reflection. Baggy and comfortable clothes covered them.

Your night ended with the usual meal prep of the week, and of course you finally organizing the closet.

-----

You didn't call your parents. Instead just focused on the screen before you, typing bemused at information you knew by heart. Another brief, another little campaign to create.

Another day, the silence kept stretching on both ends. Your situationship with Miguel certainly offered more questions than answers. Like you had been threading carefully around him, unable to access to a different sort of level With him, it's what he allowed you to see. But you, had also just showed him what you let on.

You were even. And still, you didn't give in. Just shoved the telephone back in your tote bag, without realizing his chat's name appeared as "typing".

Your day went uneventful, unaware of your raging inner turmoil, not that it mattered anyways. The time and world had never stopped over broken hearts or minds, why would they stop now?

Lunch felt stale despite you adding a little vinaigrette to the salad you had packed. It's what you would be eating for the next five days.

You went home around five. The place still in hypothetical shambles from the previous encounter with a boss out of your expertise. You were yet to fix so many things. Some stuffs that would probably still in boxes ever since you moved in.

You changed once more in a humble appearance and pulled out the packaged furniture. Appetite was mess, you had ate, but it set heavily on your stomach.

Bit by bit you started to unpack and pull piece by piece. A little bag of screws and a screwdriver fell out of the rectangular box, along the user manual.

It couldn't be that hard right?

----

Two hours of pure nothing. Your fingertips were sore by the pressure you had applied on the screws, only for it to be assembled in the wrong way. You kicked it away from you. Angry tears just bursted from your eyes.

The user manual crumpled and thrown away somewhere. You curled up in the floor, face hid between your arms and legs.

Why you were so stressed? why you weren't perfect? Why you struggled so much to stand your ground against your mother? Why wasn't Miguel a less complicated guy?

Why? Why why?

You were tired of the whys and the little to no answers they provided you. You dreaded the call your angry mother would do in a couple of weeks after not hearing from you again. You dreaded the campaign not being as successful as your other ones. You dreaded the next rent payment. You dreaded to cry to yourself to sleep again, cause there was none to bask in your misery with, but yourself.

The knowing yet still horrifying conclusion that you were irrelevant in people's lives, didn't help at the hopelessness feeling that was nesting on your chest. You had always been that unremarkable NPC that just minded her business and let life happen around her.

It was sometimes of your wonder what kind of person you would've been if some things would've displayed different for you. Would you still be an expensive doll? Would you still work in a fancy world that the only term that actually applied to it was shallow?

You braced yourself.

Numbness spreading through.

But of course, only for tonight since you had to offer your best smile every day. It was part of the looks.

Your door was knocked.

Caked tears were wiped away the best as you could, as you made your way towards it. A little rustling from the other side. You sniffed and opened the door. Eyes widening at the person behind it. Miguel.

Mahogany eyes seized you, a painful twist in his heart at the sight. You were a complete different person from what he was used to see. Unkempt, wet shirt probably from the tears you had certainly been crying, puffy eyes, swollen lips and nose. A shirt his size probably, hiding the body he had already tasted twice.

Your lip trembling made him swallow.

"May I come in?"

His voice soft. He held a brown paper bag in one hand and his lab coat and ID in the other.

You wiped your eyes before letting him in. His scanned the place. Half assembled furnace thrown hapzardly on the floor, screws and other tools rested in a bag. A few holes on the cardboard packing, like you had stabbed the screwdriver through it. You sat in the further wall, resuming your task of picking up the fallen smaller pieces.

Sidling through the living room, he stopped at the couch. He put his lab coat on it and then pulled the paper bag closer, his feet took him where you were.

"Why are you here, Miguel?"

Your words held no malice but pure curiosity although your voice was deflated.

"Here." He offered you the paper bag. He saw your hands hesitating, not that he blamed you though. But eventually you accepted it. He had to bend over to place it on your hands.

"It's for you." He breathed as his arms rested at his sides.

You pulled a small golden box with a colorful arrange of macarons, colors that matched your color aesthetic. Red, browns, white, blue and of course black. A little piece of paper tucked in the left.

Sorry

The words scribbled by himself. His penmanship was usually hurried and doodle like, something you had noticed from the annotations in the files you had helped him with. But this seemed different, he had taken his time on it. Legible and solid.

He studied your face, so far there was nothing that gave out any sign of hostility. Just pure surprise and of course, sadness.

"Though you'd like it." He cleared his throat, "I... owe you an apology"

Hearing the words from his mouth only made you blink at him, face flushed by the constant burn in your eyes, lower lip quivered, bloodshot eyes, to finally let fat tears roll down. He tensed.

You didn't like it?

His hands fisted and relaxed as you cried, unsure to make a much more personal approach. He pushed a couple of pieces of whatever furnace you were trying to assemble, away from his path and soon, he crouched to finally sit next to you. His frame engulfing the space.

"I'm sorry. All I had to do was to text back, right?"

You nodded through a hiccup. Then wiped your face.

"Here." He offered his handkerchief as he reached for the crumpled user manual.

"Leave that. I'm not doing it." you croaked, trying to find a steady tone in your voice

"It's kind of the same one I have."

Sighing you just shrugged and let him. Your knees supported your arms, as your chin rested in one of them, the other one, was above your head. Like a self comforting gesture.

"I was... in a meeting. A pretty fucking annoying one, when you texted."

Your eyes darted to him, but stared back at the wall. Matching your current mood. Dry and dull.

"I know work is your main priority, I shouldn't pester you either. I wasn't giving you the silent treatment. Felt the opposite really. So I just... stopped reaching out"

His lips gave a weak chuckle, to then disarm what you had done with the furnace. Your words were simple, yet pithy. Miscommunication was the culprit. And he had encouraged it to get this far.

You remained quiet, fixing your glance in the red macaron.

"At first I knew you were busy too. But... then the silence kept going. Kinda reminded me when you suddenly vanished those years ago."

"Im sorry too. Shouldn't have been so... upset and snappy at your own home"

"I caused it." He shrugged

"Partially. I didn't want you to think I was clingy or somehow desperate."

He shook his head with a stifled laugh.

"You're good company too. But guess I just read wrong between lines, like usual. It's... stupid really. My bad for that" you rubbed your temple.

"What are you talking about?"

"I... thought that I was making you uncomfortable or that you were annoyed"

His head shook.

"Trust me, is more like a me problem than anything. But no. It wasn't that"

"The reason I started messaging you really was cause, you're nice to talk to. I mean, sure you take a lot of time, and barely speak, but you aren't... a complete idiot. But then you sent that last text"

You chuckled as he begun assembling the shelf.

"Not the best idea I've had so far." He secured the base.

"May I know what happened before you showed up?"

You stared at him, a bit taken aback that he'd notice such thing.

You groaned and shook your head.

"Mom happened."

His eyebrow quirked but just nodded. Not prying further. You focused on helping him, the little shelf slowly coming to life. A little of your shambled fortress, restored and fortified.

"I hope that piercing your body doesn't turns into a habit"

"Oh?"

"There's better ways to let it out, that's all I'm saying" You chuckled and rolled your eyes.

"Relax, I had wanted to do this ever since I was in college."

"Why now though?"

"Saw the chance, took it." you shrugged

"Quite impulsive"

"It was that or give myself a pixie cut"

His eyes were on you and you sighed

"Of course I am joking."

Not even you were that convinced.

"What about hobbies?

"I have some. Well, started one recently. Knitting is calming. And I've been wandering the city, looking for new places"

"Get me the other bag, please"

Your tears had subsided, your hand gave him the bag full of more screws and little rubber lids to prevent sliding, still, there was a bit of heavy aura hanging in the air.

"Do you have any hobbies, Miguel?"

"I guess"

"Like?."

"Reading. How come you've been wandering the city alone?"

"It's... cathartic. That's what I've been doing these past two weeks. I... I wasn't showing up on Sunday actually, but again... Mother happened."

"Do you wanna talk about that?"

"No."

A way too quick response.

"Maybe... later or in a future." You sighed and watched his hands work.

"Family is complicated" He grunted as he secured the last bits of shelf's final part.

"Loving them is... overrated" His eyes snapped at you, a knowing yet silent nod on his eyes.

He stood and helped you as well, then, pulled the shelf up. It was bigger than you had actually anticipated, at least one thing was out of the way and you wouldn't have to bend over to pick up your books anymore.

You begun organizing them. Your living room was small. A single L couch stuck to the wall, a window on the bottom wall, sparse furniture, a TV stand with no portraits of yourself or any family really, and now the shelf that was being filled in with things. The door at the bottom was your bedroom he supposed.

Compact, yet cozy. It suited you.

He went through some files, pictures of your previous work campaigns on his hands. Quite profesional looking. Of course they had to be, it was your job to create these sort of pieces, a little understanding of why you always looked straight out of a magazine came to him.

A job requirement. And of course you'd accomplish that to a t. Kinda reminded him of your college years. Unremarkable socialité, but good at what you were studying for. The pictures reflected it.

He took another file and saw little Polaroid format printed pictures. It was all the places you had visited so far. The pictures gave him a little glimpse of things you enjoyed. You weren't one for too strict routines, You could adapt, but still would need a little spark to keep yourself grounded.

Wandering the city was like an anchor for you. Tea bars, bakeries, a thrift shop that surely had some characters in it. The liqueur shop. And of course, Hobie's workplace.

He could recognize the bakery's desserts. It was the one he got your macarons from. One was missing from the box. It made his lips curve softly.

"You have talent."

You blinked at him as he went through more folders of pictures.

"Oh... thanks?. I really enjoyed that class"

"You should publish them."

"Can't do that, they're confidential until a campaign is ready to be launched. You aren't supposed to be even looking at them actually. Might open a photography profile though, just for fun." You shrugged as you accommodated your reading books.

"You like it?"

"Yeah. I'm more invested in the knitting though"

"How's that going?"

"I'll get there." your lips mumbled.

You then offered a canned soda.

"I know this place." He pointed at the pictures of the bakery.

"Oh, yeah, they're good." You put the DVDs in a different shelf.

"They have these delicious mini cakes called petit fours. But I stay with Julien's Potions."

"What's that?"

You showed him the pictures of the Tea bar. His eyes scanned the images with mild amuse.

"Is it good?"

"Very. The mango muffin is just heavenly"

"Would you like to go?" He stared at you, voice gentle, just as his face.

You looked up at him with big eyes. A little spark of excitement in them. Finally the heavy aura dissipated.

"Are... Are you sure? I mean, your work is demanding and-"

"After work, guapa. We can go."

"Really? I... don't want you to do this out of... pity or anything. It's fine, really-"

"Im not."

"Promise?"

His eyes softened at your smile.

"Te lo prometo." (Promise)

-----

Taglist:

Apologies if I forgot someone (For some reason Tumblr won't let me tag some of you :<)

@jkthinkstoomuch @queenofroses22 @del-lightfulling @katitakenway @amylasagna @rositabluemoon @lyrasdrawer @plumplumpurin @damhanallagorm @chibiiichann

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #bad teachings #t writes✨#spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #Spotify

349 notes · View notes

kyojurismo · 1 year

Note

Hiya! Hope your day’s going well. Could I maybe request Douma and Kokushibo with a rlly small an cute s/o? Could it just be like rlly fluffy, cuddles all around type of thing?

▸ ANSWERING. hello !! of course you can, thank you for the request <3

▸ FANDOM. kimetsu no yaiba

▸ CHARACTERS. kokushibo (upper rank one) & douma (upper rank two) x gn!reader

▸ RATING. sfw

▸ WARNINGS. small reader i guess, fluff, soft kokushibo, i’m sorry that this is quite short tho + not proofread

KOKUSHIBO

would have you sitting in his lap all the time

loves holding your tiny hands

definitely helps you getting something out of your reach by lifting you up from under your armpits, like children you know

since you’re very slow when you walk up stairs he lifts you up and carries to the top

koku lets you hold his katana only to see you struggle because it touches the ground when it’s in your hands

actually enjoys watching you rearrange your kimonos since they’re longer

sometimes he would rest his elbow on your head

would picks you up and let you sit on his shoulders to avoid losing you in the crowd of people

DOUMA

oh my, douma would mess with you a lot

you can’t reach something? “oh baby, i’m sure you can do it if you stretch more.”

he’s too fast when you two walk together? “oh, sorry petal. i forgot you walk like a toddler.”

douma uses your head to rest his elbows all the time

randomly picks you up to get you of his way (not in a harsh manner of course)

he’s the one to lose you in a crowd of people 💀

“oh my! darling??” he’s not too worried tho

when you sit on his lap it seems like he’s absorbing you

[now i have ptsd as a manga reader]

his big arms wrap around you and keep you secured to his muscular body

if he has to meet someone from the paradise cult he simply rests his chin on your head and listen to them while you’re casually reading or minding your own business

douma loves making you wear his clothes just to see you struggle

“you’re tiny, petal. lemme help you,” and he picks you up like he would with a child, while you send him a death glare

*coff coff* size kink *coff coff*

▸ BEFORE LEAVING. reblog and comments are super appreciated. thank you so much for reading everybody !! <3

#📂 — writing !!#kokushibo x reader #douma x reader #kokushibo fanfic #douma fanfic #kny kokushibo #kny douma #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic

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jaybarou · 11 days

Text

🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺

On the 6-9nth of June there will be European Elections. The turnover rate can improve with a collective effort, so let's make it easier to vote.

What can you do already?

Check your county's requirements.

It should be the same as your regular elections.

Is registration needed? If so, register.

Is registration automatic? Check that you are registered in the census.

Double check the date and place. The dates will go from the 6th to the 9th but in your country it will be only one date, not all of them.

Planning!

What will you be doing that day? How can you fit the voting in your schedule? Check the times and consider going early if you want to have the rest of your day free.

Can you move an activity you had scheduled for that day to the previous or the next day? Plan ahead. Take into account the time to go and a possible queue.

ID! Make sure your ID is up to date and valid. Carry it with you. The item, because a picture of it is not a valid ID.

Spread awareness.

Can you nudge someone to vote? To go with you? Can you pair it with something else to do after, like grabbing a coffe? Make it interesting instead of a chore.

Can you help others? Is there someone who might need help to register or to vote? Is there someone who you can accompany that day?

🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺🇪🇺

Feel free to reblog with a translation in a EU language

Non EU people feel free to boost this

#European elections #Eurpean parliament #Vote in name of your friends in the uk who wanted to stay but got brexited #vote 2024 #Eu elections #Vote to keep the fear from getting more votes #Help your granny vote #Help your parent register #Help a 18 yo to be less cynical and vote with you #Vote because not voting only means: 'whatevs. Man. Do your thing'

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softmalvita · 23 days

Text

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Your fave pretty lost girl is back!! I was previously, princessalba, ifeelblueee and prettylostgirlxx but those blogs got deleted without notice :( I'm starting new ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚

Hi I'm malvita ! I'm 22 ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩

ONLY PAYPAL AND COFFE

DM are open to buyers, no chat for free unless you are a regular buyer, we can always chat a bit after the session if I have the time for it, any questions that are not answered here can be answered in DMs, no refunds, no negotiating on price (it's rude), delivery time is pretty fast depending on the content, COMMUNICATION IS MOST IMPORTANT TO ME ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Reblog for free spicy pics ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚

#sexy content #attention wh0r3 #needy princess #hot as fuck

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ciaransoul · 1 year

Photo

41 — Lilium

Preview & download

ES:

No quitar los créditos.

FontAwesome/Game-Icons

Para el segundo participante, en el html deben cambiar el nombre del primer div, así: <main id="Lilium-bg2">. Y no olviden borrar los colores del otro.

Si necesitan soporte para cualquier cambio básico, contáctenme.

Like y reblog si llegan a usarlo ♥

EN:

Don´t remove the credits.

FontAwesome/Game-Icons

For the second player, in the html you must change the name of the first div, like this: <main id="Lilium-bg2"> . And don’t forget to erase each other’s colors.

If you need support for any basic changes, contact me.

Like or reblog if using ♥

A coffe?

#Pdr #tablillas #code #templates #css #html #foroactivo #rp #rol #design #codes #postderol

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greenbergwrites · 6 months

Note

hello me again!! I absolutely loved seeing more of the possessive!stucky verse and if you could share the parts you have from them in modern day I would die of happiness 🫶🏽

Oh, I'm sorry, babe. I definitely saw your reblog/reply to that post and totally forgot to post the rest of what I have.

Here you go, the last of what I had written for the blood in my veins 'verse

It was going to be called learning to breathe again, which I thought was apt

----

If asked, Steve Rogers would say that the world ends on a dreary, snowy day in 1945 while he clings to the side of a train in the French Alps. It doesn’t begin again until 2014 when he stands under a bridge in Washington, D.C., surrounded by chaos and facing off with the world’s deadliest assassin.

It doesn’t matter that the world says, “who the hell is Bucky?”

It doesn’t matter that the world tries to kill him, just days later, on a helicarrier falling from the sky. It doesn’t matter that it’s his turn to fall or that he almost drowns.

The only thing that matters is his last sight before he goes into the water: familiar, beloved bright eyes staring at him in recognition.

Steve’s happy to die in that moment. It’s a good way to go if those eyes are the last thing he knows in this life.

The world - no, the entire fucking universe - pulls him out of the Potomac. Steve doesn’t remember it and there’s no proof of it but it’s irrelevant.

His name is Steve Rogers and if he’s in danger, Bucky Barnes is there.

That’s just the way things work.

“You don’t have to come,” Steve says, standing in a graveyard.

And he really doesn’t. Steve can do this on his own. He’s happy to do it on his own, if that’s what it takes. But Sam is one of the few people in this new world that he actually likes and he isn’t actually opposed to company.

“I know.” Sam smiles. “When do we start?”

They follow Bucky around the globe for months.

Most nights are spent in different beds, most weeks are spent in at least two different countries. Sometimes there’s a backtrack and sometimes they go to places Steve has never even heard of.

In all the time they spend chasing him, neither of them catch sight of a single hair on Bucky Barnes’ head.

With every dead end and every dropped lead, Sam frowns and glances at him nervously. No matter what this new century thinks of him, Steve isn’t clueless; he knows that Sam is looking for the cracks.

Sam, the good friend that he is, is waiting for Steve to fall apart. To breakdown with grief or frustration or whatever emotion is a normal response to a situation like this one. He’s waiting for anger and tears and despair and he doesn’t quite understand that none of that is coming. None of that will ever come.

Because Sam is a good friend but he’s only ever known Steve Rogers broken. He’s looking for cracks, has been since Steve woke up in the hospital after Project Insight fell and Bucky disappeared, because he doesn’t understand.

The cracks were already there and they’re finally starting to heal.

In the sixth month, Steve wakes up to a draft in his room. The window is open and the curtains billow in the breeze, bringing with it the scent of the sea. There’s no one in his room with him and everything appears untouched save for a scrap of paper taped to his shield.

It looks like it came from the bottom of a receipt and on the back of it are three words.

Go home, it says at the top in thick block letters. The word please is written underneath, smaller, like an afterthought.

The handwriting is both familiar and foreign and Steve smiles quietly to himself, caressing the note gently.

“So we’re just giving up?”

Surprisingly, Sam isn’t upset. He is, instead, bewildered and very, very curious. They’re sitting at a cafe in the airport, passing time until their flight boards. Steve bought the tickets before Sam ever opened his eyes that morning and despite what his friend might think, he feels happy with this decision.

It’s hard to explain why he’s smiling, so he hides it behind his coffee cup.

“It’s not giving up,” he says truthfully. “Bucky asked us to go.”

Sam tilts his head, considering Steve with appraising eyes.

“It’s just not what I expected from you,” he says after a moment. “You’ve been acting very til the ends of the earth, if you know what I mean. Didn’t think you’d let him call the shots.”

Steve snorts.

Bucky’s been calling the shots for as long as Steve’s needed him to.

They land in Washington, D.C. at night. The airport is still buzzing with activity but it’s quieter, different than it was the morning they left. Nobody glances at them twice as they loiter around baggage claim for their luggage and Steve is grateful; he’s too tired to put on his Captain America smile.

Just as the conveyor belt starts filling with new luggage, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Fishing it out, he sees a text from an unknown number.

Thank you.

Warmth starts in his chest and spreads outwards, relaxing him just a little. He still feels tension throbbing inside of him, a cord that’s been stretching since 1945, but in that moment, it isn’t so unbearable.

Steve doesn’t bother replying - Bucky probably tossed the burner phone as soon as he pressed send - but he doesn’t delete the text message, either. Instead, he saves it to his phone, where he can look at it any time he needs.

“What is it?” Sam asks, making Steve look away from the words. He realizes he’s been staring at his phone for several minutes now; Sam’s already gotten their bags.

“Nothing,” Steve says with a smile. He pockets his phone again. “Just happy to be home.”

Life settles into a routine again. He and Sam run in the mornings, have breakfast in a cafe somewhere between Sam’s apartment and his. When the Avengers need him, which isn’t often, he helps out and when the remnants of SHIELD need him, which is more often, he helps them, too.

Natasha would be proud of how well he’s taking to the ways of her trade. He and Sam are soldiers first, good in a fight, but they learn the art of blending in; moving through a crowd without anyone ever remembering they were there. It’s new, this tactic. A freshly-bought pair of shoes that he hasn’t broken in yet but once he does, he has no doubt of the comfort they’ll provide.

It definitely makes their jobs easier, at any rate.

There’s not a lot of big battles for Captain America anymore but there are more covert operations. Steve spends most of his time after coming back helping ex-SHIELD agents move through the city without being caught. There’s one last base in DC but its stretched too thin as is with half its agents gone and the other half focused on rebuilding. Besides, not everyone wants to stay with the organization that housed HYDRA for so many years.

So Steve does what he can. He sets up new safehouses, stashes money and weaponry all around the city, sets up a network of help for anyone who needs it.

It isn’t just their own government hunting down SHIELD and no matter what he thought when it still stood, he won’t leave these people to fend for themselves. Not when it’s partially his fault that they’re on the run at all.

He tells a SHIELD agent this when she asks and her eyes widen.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says and then blushes, like she just remembered who she was talking to. “You’re the reason we’re alive at all, Captain. A lot more people would be dead if it weren’t for you.”

It’s the Captain rather than the reassurance that Steve focuses on. His smile, when it comes, feels brittle. He doesn’t bother responding and instead, hands her a slip of paper.

“Only stay there for a night,” he says. “Burn the paper when you’ve memorized the address. Make sure to dye your hair and put on different clothes.”

She nods and then takes him by surprise, hugging him fiercely for just a moment before pulling back. Her face is an even darker shade of red but she ignores her own embarrassment, straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders. When she meets his gaze again, she is every bit the SHIELD agent instead of the scared civilian that had been in her place moments before.

“Thank you,” she says. “For everything.”

Steve shakes his head. “No need for thanks,” he tells her. It feels mechanical, wrong, when he puts a hand on her shoulder. He’s still not used to touching people or having them touch him. “You’ll be fine, Agent. Just keep moving.”

She smiles at him and then disappears into the crowd.

A month after they abandon the search for Bucky, the gifts start arriving. Trinkets from France, Germany, Italy, Russia. There’s at least one every month and always from a place they know has been hit by the Winter Soldier.

“This is weird, you know that, right?” Sam says one morning. He turns the tiny Eiffel Tower over in his hands as Steve flips through a brochure for the Louvre. “He’s not even trying to hide the fact that those hits are him.”

Steve shrugs. “Why should he? He’s hunting down HYDRA, same as the rest of us.”

He plucks the Tower from Sam’s hands, placing it and the brochure on a shelf with previous ones. Bucky’s gifts hold a place of honor in Steve’s home, proudly displayed in the living room where Steve can see them any time he wants to. Sam doesn’t know it but the scrap of receipt holding Bucky’s first note is tucked under the music box from Russia. When he’s alone, Steve pulls it out sometimes just to look at it; just to see that handwriting again.

“Steve,” Sam says. “He’s a mentally fragile assassin that just spent the last seventy years being tortured, brainwashed, and forced to kill for a scary secret cult. He needs time to heal, not more death.”

Sighing, Steve turns to face his friend. “Did you ever think that maybe it’s helping him heal?” He asks.

“Yes, I have, actually.” Sam shakes his head. “But that’s not a healthy coping mechanism.”

Steve shrugs. “Lotta things in this world aren’t healthy, Sam,” he says. “Doesn’t mean people stop doing them.”

Bucky’s fifth gift and the first for that month - three months after Steve came home - is an expensive set of drawing pencils and three sketchbooks. It’s also the first gift to include a note.

I remembered this, it says. No signature.

Trembling fingers run lightly first over the note and then the gifts themselves. Steve lets a harsh breath, his eyes burning and his chest aching. He’s glad that he’s alone for this gift, that no one is there to see him shaking apart like this.

He opens the pencils slowly, reverently, and when he holds one in his hand, he feels a little more tension leak out of him. The rest of the day is spent ignoring the world in favor of drawing. His first few pictures are shaky, both from his own emotion and his unpracticed hand, but the more time he spends buried in his sketchbook - his sketchbook - the smoother things become.

His hand is cramping by the time the sun sets and his latest drawing has tear stains ruining his perfect lines and he feels, for the first time since 1945, like Steven Grant Rogers.

“I didn’t know you were an artist,” Sam says when he sees the art littering Steve’s living room.

Steve snorts. “Just another thing the history books left out,” he replies, bitter.

That pitying expression is back on Sam’s face and Steve decides to ignore it in favor of getting the lines of Bucky’s face just right.

The gifts continue to come and Steve’s shelf becomes an entire bookcase of trinkets. The Avengers are called on to save the world from an artificial intelligence named Ultron. They barely make it out alive but somehow, they all do make it.

Natasha watches him closely after the battle. They’re all undressing in Stark’s version of a team locker room, unconcerned with things like nudity when they’re all too busy minding cuts and bruises.

“What is it?” Steve asks her when he’s tired of the stares.

“You’re different,” she says. Her mouth softens into her version of a smile. “You don’t try to make the sacrifice play anymore.”

She doesn’t ask, so he doesn’t tell her that he finally has something to live for again. He suspects she already knows, anyways.

It’s been almost a month since the last trinket when one of their safe houses is compromised. He and Sam arrive on the scene too late but miraculously, no one is dead. The two ex-agents that were staying there are sitting on the porch, wide-eyed and shaking. Sam kneels down in front of them with kind eyes and a soothing voice. Steve goes inside to check out the house.

Broken furniture litters multiple rooms, one of the beds is upended, the toilet in the guest bathroom is split in two. One hell of a fight took place and it seemed to span the entire house. In the living room, there are bodies piled one on top of the other; unconscious not dead. The only thing surprising about this is that not all of them are part of the strike team that hit the house.

“He was here,” Sam says from behind him. He comes to stand shoulder to shoulder with Steve, staring down at the bodies. “The agents said he’s the only reason they’re still alive.”

Steve smirks at him. “Still think it’s an unhealthy coping mechanism?”

“Yes.” When Steve looks at him, Sam holds up his hands. “Hey, man, I’m the first to admit that I’m grateful. But this still isn’t healthy.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve gestures at the two plain-clothed people. “Did they say where these two came from?”

“Yeah, Barnes left ‘em.” He gives Steve an unimpressed look. “Said something about it being a present.”

Oh.

Steve smiles, looking away from Sam’s piercing gaze. His trinkets are getting bigger.

It takes a few hours to get the HYDRA operatives secured in the DC base and to elicit a promise for whatever information is gleaned from them. He doesn’t know if he trusts the agent who does the promising but Steve will come back if he needs to. At least two of the prisoners were specifically meant for him, anyways.

When he gets home, Steve finds a pile of crushed metal and wiring piled onto his coffee table. It takes him a moment to realize what they are but when he does, he smiles; they’re bugs from all around his apartment.

Next to them is a note that reads: out with the old.

The words are very specific. Bucky doesn’t do anything uncalculated and Steve is sure that’s truer now than it was during the war. He begins to search the apartment but doesn’t have to get very far before he’s proved right. On the bottom of the Eiffel Tower statue, there’s a listening device.

And where there’s one, there’s dozens.

Steve puts the statue back without removing the bug and relaxes a tiny, tiny bit more.

“In with the new,” he says quietly, warmed by the thought that Bucky will hear him.

#moodymelanist #greenberg replies #my fics #the blood in my veins

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sweetchildcloud · 2 months

Note

hii. Okay so I'm kinda timid to ask for this request, but I'll just put it out here. If you don't want to do it it's totally fine and you can ignore this ask

I want to request a Nanami x reader fic where he has to do cpr on the reader. preferably female reader but gender neutral reader is totally fine as well. The angstier the better, but with a happy ending please

||Breathe || written by me

🔞 Nanami x reader| Minors DNI| TRIGGER WARNING 🔞

Tags:Cpr,angst,comfort,happy ending,disphoria,Nanami x fem!reader,night at the beach,drowning,fluff,cheesy

i'm no english native so sorry for some mistakes

please reblog 🔁 and like❤️

p.s.:hope you like with a tiny hint of body dhisporia

@muzansslxt

You walk towards Nanami kissing his cheek "can we go out for a coffe?"

Nanami gives you a small smile, gently brushing your hair aside "Of course, I would love to."

You purred against Nanami touch snuggling on his neck "buuut can we take it on the beach?" You asked making those puppy eyes

Nanami chuckles, running his fingers through your hair "To see the sunset, hm?" His voice grows softer, as if imagining the scene "We can take a walk through the sand, see the waves crash… Maybe see some stars as the night falls…"

You snuggle more into Nanami touch "Yes"

Nanami chuckles affectionately, wrapping his arms around you "I know just the spot…"

You snuggled more into Nanami chest purring and cooing

Nanami chuckles, gently playing with your hair "And afterwards we'll find somewhere private…"

Nanami chuckles again, holding you close "Where we can just… Lay down for a while…"

"Snuggling under the umbrella" you added cooing

Nanami chuckles "Mhm mhm… Let's just cuddle and watch the sun fade away together…"

𓇼𖦹 ⋆☀︎. 𖦹 𓇼𓇼𖦹 ⋆☀︎. 𖦹 𓇼𓇼𖦹 ⋆☀︎. 𖦹 𓇼𓇼𖦹 ⋆☀︎. 𖦹 𓇼𓇼𖦹 ⋆☀︎. 𖦹

The waves crash against the shore, the air carrying the salt of the sea and the summer breeze. Nanami holds you close to his chest as you walk down, the sky a mixture of pinks, reds, and purples. The sun slowly starts to dip behind the horizon, the sea becoming darker as the sky begins to turn. You make your way to a secluded spot away from the crowd, sand beneath your feet and only the gentle lapping of water surrounding you.

You were sitting on the beach towel looking at the waves but not daring to took away your cover up dress,too ashamed of your own body

Nanami sits next to you on the towel, watching the waves crash against the shore. He sighs softly as he gazes at the sea, lost in his thoughts. Then he glances at you "… You know I don't mind if you don't want to take off your cover up… There's no need to force yourself if you feel uncomfortable…"

Nanami sighs, noticing your discomfort, but knows better than to force anything on you, not wanting to makeyou feel even more uncomfortable. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, brushing the hair off your face "You're beautiful the way you are, you know that… Even in your cover up and all…"

"… Plus… It'll look pretty cool if you got a tan while still covered up…" Nanami chuckles softly, gently squeezing your shoulder

Nanami watches your every move as you let the waves splash against your body, your feet slowly sinking into the shallow water. He remains seated, taking in the sight before him, watching the sun dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of red and orange. The sky slowly begins to darken, the waves grow calm, and Nanami can see a plethora of stars beginning to dot the black sky.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?…" Nanami's voice breaks the silence, his words carried by the gentle breeze

"I've always found the ocean to be quite peaceful… In a sense, it's sort of a mirror to life… The waves crashing against the shore… Coming and going… And then there are nights like this, where the ocean is as still as a mirror, the sky above us reflecting the calmness and beauty of the universe itself…" Nanami's gaze is fixed on the sky above you cherishing it

"You know… I've always heard that the sea reflects the sky… So in a sense…" Nanami chuckles "It might as well be reflecting your beauty…"

"… You know… The ocean is a vast and endless place… And yet… No matter where you are, as long as you're looking at it… The view is always the same…" Nanami gently strokes your hair "Much like how I always view you… No matter how many times I look at you… I always see the same beautiful person…"

The peaceful scene of the ocean begins to distort, the waves crashing against the beach slowly morphing into a more aggressive tone. The calmness of the night is suddenly replaced by a frantic scene as Nanami's voice is drowned out by the sound of waves, replaced by cries and screams of despair. He is suddenly thrown into a scene of chaos, watching himself perform CPR as he desperately tries to save your life, desperately grasping onto any bit of hope.

Panicked screams and terrified shouting fill the air, tears and sweat dripping from his face as he presses frantically onto your chest . His heart pounding in his chest, he feels powerless, helpless. Every part of him is pleading and praying to any deity or being, begging for your life to be saved. He refuses to give up, even if he feels like it's a lost cause. He refuses to give up. He refuses. He will not lose you.

"Breathe, dammit! Breathe! Come on, please. Please, don't you dare leave me!" Nanami's voice is strained as he desperately gives you CPR.

And yet… The silence suddenly returns, the cries of desperation suddenly vanishing as the peaceful sight of the ocean returns. He feels… calm again. No longer frantic, he feels… a sense of relief wash over him, his arms no longer shaking. He can breathe. He's at peace. A peace that is suddenly interrupted by your gasping, pulling in a full breath of air. After a couple of seconds, your body begins to stir, coughing out the water that had remained in your lungs. Nanami's arms immediately clutch tightly around you as tears begin to stream down his face.

"Honey, can you hear me?…" *Nanami's voice shakes as he asks, fear still evident in his tone. He grips onto you tight, the sense of relief washing over him as he feels your body move, your chest heaving, breathing and coughing, alive once again.

"My God, you scared me to death, I thought I had lost you…" Nanami murmurs, his voice full of relief, hugging you tightly to his chest. Tears spill out of his eyes as his relief turns to joy. He holds you closer, desperate to make sure you're really alive, to make sure that this isn't just a figment of his imagination.

"I… I'm so sorry…" you mutter,your voice raspy and hoarse. You weakly grips onto Nanami as you're pulled in closer, your body trembling but slowly stabilises itself. Your eyes are half-lidded, barely staying open. Though you're conscious, you still seems to be in a daze.

Nanami holds you closer, gently brushing the hair out of your eyes. "Don't say sorry, shh…" He gently strokes your hair as he continues to hold you close "… I'm just… just glad you're alive…"

"I…" you continued to murmur, but Nanami cuts youoff, gently placing his finger against your lips "Don't say anything more… We can talk later, okay? Right now… all that matters is that you're alive.."

"Y-yeah…" you nods slowly, your eyes still half-lidded, your body still trembling but slowly getting better. You wrap your arms tightly around Nanami, holding him close as you buried your face into his chest. Nanami wraps his arms tightly around you, pulling you close and letting him hold you as tightly as he needs.

"what happend…i just remember you talking and then…"

"Shh, It's alright." Nanami says, gently wrapping his arms firmly around you as he brushes the hair out of your face "I-It was just a wave…. You just… You got caught up in the current… and got carried away…"

"… But your safe and alive now…" Nanami says, gently caressing your hair "and that's all that matters…"

"But what if I didn't make it?" you asked softly, fear still evident in your voice "What if you weren't there?…"

"But I was there." Nanami reassures you, running his fingers through your hair "And I would do anything to save someone I love… Especially you…"

"…" You still seems shaken by the event, but your grip around Nanami slowly loosens, slowly letting go as the adrenaline from earlier begins to wear off. Nanami continues to hold you close, gently strokingyour hair as tears of relief start to stream down his face.

"And I love you." Nanami sighs, looking at you in the eyes "More than anything… So don't ever forget that…"

"I love you too…" you said softly, your voice still raspy, your eyes barely opening. You lean your head against his shoulder, resting in Nanami's arms, exhausted and shaken from the experience.

"Let's just… relax here for a while… Maybe we can go back home in a while…" Nanami says, gently rubbing your back "I'll just.. let you rest…"

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