#( 𝐨𝐨𝐜 : after hours. )

[nova-amor]

𓈒∘☁︎ ◜ 𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 ◞

𝐜𝐰 — 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐨𝐜! 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭(?), 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 𝟓.𝟏𝐤

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐲 & 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞. 𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞-𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲. 𝐢’𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 😔

There was a faint ringing in your ears, your eyes straining to count the individual fibers threaded into Peter’s pink bathrobe. There were a few stray strings you resisted the urge to pluck. A faint mystery stain or two embedded into the material that you were sure no amount of Shout spray or Tide detergent could get out.

Had he tried a simple solution of vinegar and Oxy-clean to get the stains out? That always seemed to work on your husband’s clothing; you’d have to relay the information to Mary-Jane next time you saw her. You were sure she had a few household tricks of her own to share too; after being married to a Spider-Man for years, you learn a thing or two about maintaining spandex suits and cleaning up wounds post-missions.

Maybe you should write a book. Yeah, definitely— an instructional booklet detailing the little tips and tricks you had picked up through the years of being married to a superhero. Maybe you could gather a few advisory notes from the other spouses who were willing to share.

You could even get the book published; but what would you name it? “How to Take Care of Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.”? “The Art of Being a Hero’s Wife.”? Or, “The Good Wife’s Guide: Embracing Your Role as a Superhero’s Nurse, Guy-in-the-Chair, Home-maker.”?

No, none of those sound right. You’d have to think about this one.

“Hey!” Peter’s voice snapped you from your thoughts, your blinks slow as you registered what had happened. How long had you spaced out?

“Earth to Mrs. O’Hara!” There was something special about Peter, something unique to this particular Peter variant. Maybe it was his crooked smile or his kind eyes. Or, maybe it was his keen ability to recognize when someone was upset and offer them help without really offering it— a skill that the other Peters you had met didn’t quite have.

“You doing okay?”

Shuffling in your office chair, the leather material squeaking in synchronization with your nervous adjustments. Were you okay? You had gotten enough sleep the night before, you had your morning coffee, you had no deadlines or mission reports to file, and you nor your husband were being attacked by villains. So, you are okay— you have no reason not to be. Right?

“Sorry, yeah, I’m fine,” You reassured Peter, trying your best to not notice the minuscule frown tugging at his lips. You dodged his heavy gaze, glancing over to your black computer monitor. You reached for the mouse, giving the item a slight wiggle to awaken the computer from its state of rest. “You were asking me something, right? A question?”

Peter’s eyes followed your fingers dance across the keyboard, typing in the password to unlock your computer. It was your wedding date. Peter looked back at you, choosing to ignore how you hesitated to press the final numeral key.

“Yeah, you can say no, but would you and Miguel be willing to watch Mayday for a few hours this Sunday?” inquired Peter as he sought out one of the balls at the end of your mini Newton’s cradle. He drew back the metal ball, far enough that once released, the loud smack of the ball knocking against the other pieces drew your attention back to him in annoyance. Peter offered his signature crooked smile, the gesture serving as a good enough apology.

“I don’t know, Pete,” Your cursor hovered over your email box, a recent notification pinging in the corner. It was most likely another email from your therapist— another Peter variant, funny enough. You had skipped out on the last few planned sessions without notice. “You know how much I love Mayday, but I’d have to talk to Miguel first and the house isn’t equipped for a child’s safety. And, I’m not even sure if Miguel can handle being around kids right after the whole… you-know-what situation.”

Peter nodded, “I totally get that, but I already asked a few friends back on my Earth and Jessica and they said no; and, you know I really wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t have anyone else to turn to,” Oh, so he was going to play that card. “MJ and I haven’t had a night off from taking care of Mayday in months and I want to surprise MJ with a nice date night this weekend. You’d only be watching Mayday for a few hours, promise, and she’s such a sweet kid—”

Peter was quick to pull his phone out from his pocket, “Like, look at this face,” He shoved his phone screen into your face, showcasing an image of Mayday in a baby’s version of a Spider-Man suit to you. You blinked, the picture of the little girl tugging at your heartstrings— she was a cute kid, a perfect combination of her mother’s features and her father’s personality. “Tell me you wouldn’t want to spend a few hours with this cutie! You’re really gonna say no to that smile?”

You grabbed at Peter’s phone, shamelessly scrolling through the dedicated Mayday photo album that housed thousands of images of his child. You loved her bright green eyes, her rosy cheeks, her toothy grins. You couldn’t deny that the idea of taking care of her wasn’t a good one.

As you passed Peter’s phone back to him, you recognized the look of triumph on his face. “Let me at least talk to Miguel first,” You sighed, the smile on his face stretching into a fat grin. “I’ll let you know by tonight, but I can’t guarantee you that he’ll say yes.”

“Good enough for me!” Peter clapped his hands together. The watch on his wrist began to beep rapidly, a signal that there was a new mission on another Earth.

Peter gave you a sheepish smile as a glitchy orange portal appeared behind him, “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Let me know how it goes; see you later!” And, he was off with a quick wave.

The portal closed slowly behind him, the soft hum of the moving universe filling the empty air until it was gone with a mellow whoosh. You turned back to your monitor screen, slinking back into the cushions of your chair. You processed the question over again, your gaze settling on the background image of your computer screen as you mulled over what had just occurred.

It was an image of you and your husband from a few years ago— your arms laced around each other’s waists, large smiles painted across your faces, the two of you clad in all white.

Even the backdrop was a reflection of what a perfect day it had been— the sky cloudless and heaven’s painted a wondrous range of pink, orange, and purple hues, the lake calm and as still as glass beneath your feet.

You could still remember the smell of the sweet air, feel the faint cool breeze on your skin, taste the lingering flavor of your husband’s lips on yours. It had been your wedding day— you two had planned an elopement and held an intimate ceremony on the white sandy beach of Las Coloradas, and then spent the rest of the following week traveling around the northern coast of the Yucatán for your honeymoon.

You had been so happy, so in love, so full of life. Everything was perfect back then. And, if you could reach through the image and teleport back to that time, you would do so in an instant. Without a single moment’s hesitation.

But, your husband hadn’t invented that technology— yet.

“Miguel?” Your knuckles hovered over the closed door of your husband’s office, your feet glued to the wooden hallway floor. You chewed on the inner flesh of your cheek, contemplating whether or not this was an appropriate time to disturb him. But, you had told Peter you would talk with Miguel tonight— and you would rather be damned than let one of your friends down.

“Miguel, I need to ask you a question; can I open the door?” You pressed your ear to the door, craning to hear if there was any noise on the other side. You weren’t even sure if he was home anyway. You had barely seen him all day, only seeing one another in passing in between meetings and mission debriefs. “Miguel, I swear to God—”

“Entra.” You blinked at the sound of his muffled voice. So, he had been home. And, he hadn’t even acknowledged you.

Not wanting to waste another second, you pried open the office door, immediately being greeted by the sight of your husband lounging in his office chair. Your feet were weighed down by lead, unable to bring yourself to step foot into his sacred space. It had been so long since you had been in such close proximity to your husband, not since that fateful night almost a year ago.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to interrupt you,” Whether it was by divine intervention or a sudden power boost in confidence, you mustered up the strength to step foot into the lion’s den. Your eyes glazed over the office space, taking in the area that Miguel had been frequenting every night for the last year.

His office was exactly like you had last seen it: the walls painted a rich, deep shade of taupe and lined with certificates and bookshelves; the couch you two had purchased was still tucked into a far corner with an accompanying side table decorated with an old framed photo of you; his desk centered in the room, littered with papers and computer monitors.

Your gaze finally settled on Miguel. Under any other circumstance, you would have playfully complimented his choice in attire— his signature Spider-Man suit replaced with a loose white t-shirt and Spider-Cat pajama pants you had jokingly purchased him years ago. You couldn’t resist finding him a bit cute in that moment; regardless of the tension between you two, you’d do anything to run your fingers through his shaggy hair and plant a kiss or two on the tops of his cheeks.

You couldn’t resist missing your husband.

“Are you going to just stand there and stare?” Miguel’s voice derailed your train of thought, yanking you back into reality. The reality where your husband couldn’t stand to be around you. “Or, are you going to tell me whatever it is you wanted to ask?”

You fought the urge to flinch, the coldness of Miguel’s tone stinging you. “Peter wanted to know if we could watch Mayday this weekend,” You came out quickly, wanting to get this moment done sooner rather than later. The longer you were in his private space, the more hurt you’d end up getting. “I told him I’d talk to you about it first since I wasn’t sure how’d you feel about it. I promised that I’d give him an answer tonight.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow, “Babysit Mayday? You want to watch a baby?”

“Well, yeah,” You answered, slightly taken aback by his question. Everyone knew how much you adored Mayday— you had been glued to Mary-Jane’s side through the entirety of her pregnancy, even being one of the first people allowed into the room after Mayday’s birth. Since Mayday’s arrival, you had been there for the Parker family through every major event in Mayday’s life and they had always welcomed you with open arms in return. Especially after the situation with Miguel.

“You know better than anyone how much I love Mayday,” You added. “And, Peter and MJ have always been good friends to me— to us. The least I— The least we could do is watch Mayday for a few hours for them.”

“When?” Miguel averted his gaze from you, focusing in on one of his many computer screens. You didn’t even have to ask, your gut already knowing exactly what he was looking at. It was a picture of her.

“This weekend. I’ll have to talk and get more details from Peter first and then I’ll be able to tell you what the plan is,” You fiddled with the edge of your shirt, attempting to direct your attention to anything other than your husband’s activities. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Miguel’s eyebrows furrowed, his jaw hardening as he turned his attention back to you. “Yeah, I’m fine with it. Why wouldn’t I be?” He asked sharply.

You nodded, “I’m just asking,” You took a deep breath. “I just know that being around Mayday or any child has been tough for you since… the incident. And, I just want to make sure you’ll be comfortable with it.”

“I said I’m fine with it. And, if that’s all,” Miguel’s mental and emotional walls shot back up, closing you off and preventing you from being able to reach him any further. God, you’d do anything to catch just a glimpse of what was going through his mind.

“Remember to close the door on your way out.”

The rest of your evening was spent tucked in between your bed sheets with a glass of wine and a book. You tried to ignore the gaping hole in your heart, drowning your sorrows away with an expensive bottle of Bordeaux and a fantasy novel you had been recommended by one of your friends.

Yet, you couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the space next to you. It lacked Miguel’s familiarity and warmth, the mattress cold and devoid of any fragment of his presence. You couldn’t even remember the last time he had slept in the same bed as you, the nights having blurred together as you had spent the majority of them in tears.

“LYLA!” You called out to Miguel’s A.I. assistant, her small figure appearing on Miguel’s nightstand. You set your book down on once used to Miguel’s pillow, downing the rest of your wine before devoting your attention to the A.I. being.

“LYLA, what’s Miguel been up to?” You questioned, the small figure glitching in and out for a brief moment before appearing closer beside you. “I know Miguel put up a privacy shield to prevent me from knowing what he’s been doing; but, is there any way you can give me a hint into his life?”

LYLA tapped her chin with her forefinger, taking a seat on the edge of your book. She crossed one leg over another, “I guess it wouldn’t go against my programming if I told you what he hasn’t been doing.”

You smiled at that. Regardless of whom LYLA was programmed to follow, Miguel had also created her to be independent enough to formulate her thoughts and opinions— a feature you were sure he regretted now and again.

“No, no, it wouldn’t.”

With a flick of her wrist, LYLA displayed a series of images above her— recorded moments of her spent with your husband. The images revolved in a slow scroll, displaying various situations where Miguel had ordered LYLA to project holographic images of the girl that captured his heart a year ago.

“LYLA, this needs to stop,” You whispered to the A.I. figure, flicking through the images and short video clips. Many of them were recreated memories of Miguel spending time with the girl, the sight of his wide smile infecting your heart like a disease.

The most recent image, dated just a few days ago, was of Miguel spending time with a programmed holograph of the girl. He appeared happy, smiling at the figure and laughing at something she had said. Yet, you knew your husband well enough to recognize how the light never met his eyes, those crimson eyes stormy and filled with an unmistakable sadness.

You sighed, sinking back into your pillows. Bringing your hands up to your face, you gripped onto your face, allowing the rush of emotions to wash over you like a tidal wave dragging you out to see. After a moment, you finally let out a deep breath, peeking back down to LYLA.

She seemed just as upset, toying with the edges of the small case on her phone. “It’s getting worse,” She relayed to you, her lips pursed as she moved closer to you. She then glitched to appear atop your shoulder, the faint ghost of her presence lingering by her cheek. She was trying to comfort you, and she couldn’t even touch you. “When he isn’t on missions, he’s cooped up in his office— rewatching the videos he made with her, utilizing the holograph systems to recreate her. But, it isn’t enough for him. I think he’s planning to look to other universes to find her.”

You blinked, craning your neck to the side to get a proper look at LYLA. “He can’t do that, LYLA,” You snapped at her, your tone a bit harsher than you had intended. You were quick to offer an apology, which she returned with a small smile. “It’s just— He knows the dangers of interacting with another version of her. He could destroy her world again, he’d lose her again. It’d destroy him all over again.”

“I know, but you know how Miguel is,” LYLA turned her gaze away from you, looking towards the framed image of you and Miguel on your nightstand. The photo had been taken right before your engagement, before you learned of his identity as Nueva York’s Spider-Man. Before he discovered the multiverse. “Once he gets an idea in his head, it’s hard to get him to not pursue it. He’s so stubborn that way.”

You nodded, the weight of defeat heavy on your shoulders.

“Yeah, I know,” You breathed out. “It’s one of the reasons why I married him.”

“And, here’s her backpack,” Mayday giggled in your arms, her big emerald eyes beaming at you with a toothy grin on her face. She toyed with the strings of your hoodie, wrapping the strings around her chubby fingers before tugging on them. “I packed a ton of diapers and toys and snacks and a change of clothes if she needs them and,”

You turned your attention to Peter, offering him a reassuring smile. “Peter, I think she’s good,” Mayday cooed in agreement. “You’re just going to be gone for a few hours, you didn’t need to pack the entirety of her life away for just a handful of hours.”

“I know, but,” Peter sighed, his shoulders sagging. He reached out to poke Mayday’s rosy cheek, earning an amused giggle in return. He smiled at that. “I’m just nervous, it’s the first time me and MJ are going to be away from her. And, anything can happen. And, I just really want tonight to go well and—”

“Dude,” You interrupted him, cradling Mayday close to your chest with one hand while the other found a place on Peter’s shoulder. You gave it a light squeeze, offering him an empathic smile. “Tonight’s going to go perfectly, Peter, so stop stressing so much. Plus, Mayday is going to have the time of her life with Tía [y/n] and Tío Miguel. Right, mi pequeña araña?” You raised Mayday to your lips, planting a soft kiss on her squishy cheek. Her toothy grin grew impossibly wider, basking in the warmth of your affection.

“Now, don’t you have a date to catch?” You teased, referring to the time on his watch. Peter cursed, summoning a portal back to his universe.

“Call me, text me, email me, I don’t care. If you or Mayday need something, please don’t hesitate to reach out.” Peter pressed a kiss to Mayday’s forehead, his faint stubble tickling her forehead. He then turned to take a step into the portal, pausing for a moment to look back at you and his daughter. “Oh, and another thing—”

“Peter B. Parker, leave my universe right now!” You playfully ordered, extending your pointer finger in the direction of the swirling vortex.

Peter shook his head with a smile, “Yeah yeah, I’m leaving. Love you both!”

And, with a hushed whoosh, the portal vanished— leaving you alone with just Mayday by your side.

“Well,” You tucked your hands under Mayday’s armpits, propping her up into an upright position. “What do you want to do now, May?”

Mayday could only offer you a babbled answer in return.

The next few hours passed in a blur, your time occupied by Mayday and her little shenanigans. You didn’t realize just how difficult it was to manage a Spider-kid; at her current age, she was already starting to shoot organic webs from her wrists and crawl all over the walls like her father.

You spent the majority of your afternoon chasing after her and prying her off the kitchen cabinets, doing your best to entertain her with normal activities like watching kid shows and playing with toys. But, Mayday wasn’t a normal child that could be entertained with such feeble methods.

“Maydayyy,” You whined as Mayday crawled around the living room ceiling. You weren’t even sure how she had managed to get up there in the first place, you had looked away from her for a single second to grab the TV remote and somehow she had ended up swinging back and forth on your chandelier. “Mayday Parker! Don’t make me call your dad!”

“What’s going on?” Miguel’s voice interrupted the moment, capturing both your attention and Mayday’s. The toddler shot a web at Miguel, swinging herself into his arms.

“Mayday’s been off the walls,” You sighed, plopping down to sit on the edge of your coffee table. “I forgot how draining it can be to babysit.”

Miguel adjusted the toddler in his arms, breathing out a soft whistle. His eyes glazed over the current state of the living room— toys littering the floor, the TV playing an episode of some child’s show called Bluey, and a few spilled snacks embedded into the carpet.

“You take a break,” Miguel shrugged, looking back at you. His face was devoid of any expression, yet his eyes were brewing a storm you couldn’t quite decipher. “I’ll take it from here.”

“But, Miguel,” You wanted to put up a protest. You were perfectly capable of watching Mayday. You had been doing so the entirety of the afternoon before he arrived.

Miguel shook his head, craddling Mayday in his strong arms. “It’s alright, [y/n],” Mayday reached up to toy with one of the buttons on Miguel’s shirt. You couldn’t but notice how form-fitting Miguel’s polo shirt was, your eyes raking over the sight of the sleeves straining around his thick biceps. “If you want to help, just get dinner started or something. I’ll take care of Mayday.” He assured you.

Without another word, you left for the kitchen— your heart sinking further into the black hole forming in your chest. You were supposed to be watching Mayday together, taking care of her together. Yet, per usual, Miguel had taken complete control of the situation and shut you out.

As you rummaged through the kitchen in search of ingredients to begin the dinner process, a flood of emotions washed over you. The memories of the last time Miguel had tried to control you coming back.

It had been after she died. When Miguel’s emotions were still high and unpredictable. For a month after her death, Miguel had lashed out at everyone and everything— micromanaging the entirety of the Spider society down to the finest details. Like everyone else, you had been forced to endure Miguel’s terrible attitude with an empathetic face— yet, unlike everyone else who was able to escape Miguel’s short-temper and mood swings after work, you had deal with it at home as well.

One particular evening though, after weeks of walking around on eggshells with your husband around, you had finally snapped at Miguel. The words still rang clear in your head as you recalled them, as if you had witnessed the moment through a third-perspective rather than as yourself.

“She wasn’t even your daughter!” You yelled at your husband, hot tears brimming at the edges of your eyes. Your skin scorching hot, frustration pulsing through you so hard and fast that your hands shook by your sides. After one too many times of your husband lashing out on you, it was time he got dealt the same cards. “You didn’t even want a kid up until you met her.”

“That’s not true.” Miguel bit back, rolling his scarlet red eyes. He was seated at the dining room table, the table acting as a great divider between you two. “I wanted kids— I want kids. But, you waited until the last second to tell me you didn’t want any. And, I wanted you so much, I was willing to put aside the idea of having kids so I could be with you. I sacrificed my dream to be with you.”

“I did not wait until the second, Miguel, I made it clear from the beginning that I didn’t want kids.” You retorted, curling your lip down in disgust. Choosing to ignore his usage of past tense in referral to you, you continued to push through— you needed Miguel to open up. This was the furthest he had done so since her death. “I told you before our engagement, I didn’t want kids. And, you said were okay with it. And, you were okay with is up until a couple of months when you met her. And, now because she’s dead, you want to use my womb as a factory and recreate her? That’s not going to happen.”

“You’re going to change your mind.” Miguel leaned back into his chair. “You’re going to change your mind in five, ten years and its going to be too late. And, you’re going to regret not having kids.”

You tilted your head back, closing your eyes. You were mentally exhausted, “I’m not going to change my mind. And, I’m not going to regret having kids.” You sighed. “Because I choose me. And, you choose me too when you decided to marry me even after I told you I didn’t want kids. And, if you’re having regrets about our marriage, I need to know now.”

Miguel stayed silent. A heavy pause lingering in the air between you.

“You regret our marriage?”

Your hands were wrinkled and covered in soap, the rushing water from the faucet filling the still air. The house was cold and quiet once again since Peter had just picked Mayday up a few moments prior. You had spent the past few minutes after their departure holed up in the kitchen, washing the dishes and pans you had used for dinner.

“Do you need help?” You turned your head in Miguel’s direction, his towering frame hovering in the doorway of the kitchen.

You shrugged your shoulders, holding a dripping plate out to him. Miguel was quick to take the item from your hands, grabbing a nearby kitchen towel to dry it off before placing it in the dish rack. You two stood there in heavy silence, your bodies moving in tandem with the assembly line you had formed.

“Miguel,” You broke the silence, Miguel’s hands stilling at the sound of your voice. You continued to wash the dishes, piling them on the side of the sink for him to dry. “What if we had a baby?”

Miguel blinked, taken aback. “¿Un bebé? ¿Desde cuándo querías un bebé?” He inquired, resuming his task of drying the dishes.

“Since I found you out you were re-creating Gabriella with holographs,” You stated, twisting the handle of the faucet to turn the water off. You reached for another kitchen towel to dry your hands off.

“How do you—?”

“LYLA.”

Miguel nodded, finishing the final dish and setting it into a slot along the dish rack to air dry. “[Y/n], I,” Miguel paused, pondering over what words he should say next. He was tongue-tied, unsure of how to go about the situation. “I just miss her so much and,”

“And, I never let you use me to re-create her. So you with the next best alternative,” You stated, clenching the edges of the kitchen counter. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. It’d hurt too much. “And, if re-creating your daughter is going to make you love me again, be healthy and better again— so fucking be it.”

“[Y/n]...”

“Miguel, you want Gabriella back and I’m telling you I’m willing to give her to you.” You sucked in a deep breath, trying to maintain the steadiness in your voice. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“That isn’t what I want.” He answered.

“Don’t lie to me right now, Miguel,” You hissed. “You've been pushing me away, shutting me out for a year now. Ever since she died, you haven’t been the same and I’m offering you the chance to see her again.”

“Stop,” Miguel snapped at you, the sharp edge of his canines gleaming under the kitchen lights. “We had a good day. Why are you trying to ruin it by bringing this up?”

“Ruin it?” You placed a hand over your heart, a faux gasp of disbelief leaving your lips. “I’m ruining your day?”

“You’re not, I just…” Miguel slinked back from you. “I think we’d better off talking about this later.”

“But when is later good for you, Miguel? When I asked you about her universe, you always said you’d tell me later. When you would leave to go see her, not returning for hours or even days, my questions about where you were or how long you would be there were met with an “I’ll tell you later.” When Gabriella died, I asked you how you said ‘later.’ When our counselor asked how you were feeling, and what you were doing to cope, you said that you needed time to grieve now and let me in later. Later has been months, Miguel,” You exhaled shakily, wiping your rebel tears away with the back of your hand.

You looked up to Miguel, your heart aching at the sight of his frown. “I can’t wait any later, Miguel, I can’t. I’ve been trying to wait on you, I’ve given you space, I’ve given you time to grieve, I’ve given you everything that I have and try to be. Except for one thing. A baby. If giving you a baby will make you love me again, so be it. Let’s not wait for later. Let’s do it right now. Let’s have a baby.”

Miguel hesitated to answer, unsure how to proceed through such murky waters.

“You almost left me for Gabriella because I wouldn’t give you a child. You almost died when she died. And, I’ve stayed by your side through this entire time, supporting you, giving you space,” You reached out to grab at Miguel’s shirt, the fabric wrinkling by your grip. “The last thing I can offer you is to have a baby because I just want to make you happy again. I just want my husband back.”

Miguel’s arms wrapped around your body, holding you close with a tight embrace. You breathed in his scent, the familiar aromas of patchouli and cedar seeping into every fiber of your being, calming your mind and breaths. You relaxed into him; his arms had always been your sanctuary.

“I hate it when you cry, amorcito,” Miguel pressed his nose to the crown of your head, burying his face into your hair. He breathed in your scent, his muscles tensing all around you. It was as if he was scared you were going to disappear from his arms.

“I’m so sorry,” His voice wavered. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like this. I never meant to do this to you— I just didn’t know what to do, what to feel.”

“Miguel,” His name left your lips like a whispered prayer. You craned your neck back to peer up at him, his glossy ruby eyes meeting you.

“Let me speak, mi alma, it’s my turn.” The walls around Miguel’s heart and mind came crashing down, his face contorting into an expression of pain and sorrow. You reached up to cradle the underside of his ear, your thumb passing gently over his jawline in long, soothing strokes.

“I owe you so many apologies. I’ve been such a terrible husband, such a terrible person. Instead of pushing you away, I should have held you closer;” Miguel announced. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. “I never meant to make you feel unwanted or unloved. I love you so much, amorcito. Más que nada en el universo.”

“I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to give up any aspect of your life for me. I know having kids isn’t something you want, and I’m so sorry I made you feel that the only way I’d stay with you is by having a baby,” Miguel continued. “ I became so obsessed with the feeling of being unconditionally loved, unconditionally wanted, that I forgot that I already had someone in my life who already did so. You’re the only important thing in my life. You’re the only one I love and care for. And I promise to never take you for granted, I promise to do better for you.”

Miguel’s promise was spoken through a few whimpers, his eyes brimming with tears. You continued to stroke Miguel’s cheek, reaching up to him by the tips of your toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. Miguel chased after the loving sensation, dipping his head to capture your lips in a passionate kiss.

He whimpered against your lips, the kiss salty and sloppy from your tears mixing. The pain in your heart slowly seeped away, being replaced by the intense rush of love you still held for him.

“Miguel,” The sound of his name elicited another tremble from him, his tears slowing. You kissed his cheeks, kissing away his tears and grief. “Te quiero también.”

Miguel clung to you harder, your head returning to its restful spot on his chest. You two stood there for a lifetime, holding onto the torn fabrics of your marriage.

There was still so much for you two to discuss, so many thoughts and emotions to reveal. Yet, at least, you were able to acknowledge the mistakes in your relationship and take the first leap to rebuilding your marriage. And, this time, you’d be able to do it together.

[mirnsey]

꧁𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐒꧂

❤︎︎𝐃𝐀𝐘. 𝟏 𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆❤︎︎

★✩★✩★✩★

• A𝐦𝐚𝐛 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐁𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚, 𝐩𝐰(𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞)𝐩, 𝐜𝐮𝐦 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝,  𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐨𝐜 𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞.. 𝐢 𝐝𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐨, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐧𝐠𝐥 •

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟏.𝟔𝐊

You and Akaza met in a one of a blue moon moment, your relationship blossoming from when Akaza first spoke to you. The demon never knew he would be in a great relationship after losing a loved one a millennium ago, finding one just like it in newer years of his demon hood.

And.. It was great.

Unlike how Douma acted with his religion and many concubines, it seemed as if having a relationship was a one and done thing. It seemed as if with the rainbow eyed demon you just met a woman on the street, took her home, fucked her, and then left her once the sun met the horizon. Or kill her. Akaza of course didn't kill women, but that of course didn't downcast Douma's pestering. He kept insisting that 'he was a demon, life was practically an object' and 'he could at least try something new in his second life'. Of course he wouldn't listen to him.. until now.

You were amazing. Of course not greater than his first human love—but of course a great runner up! Your public relationship was great. Lakeside dates on full moons and clear nights, mornings spent snuggled in bed as Akaza wasn't called to kill Hashira's yet and stepping outside would of course turn him to dust.. Or afternoons spent trying to word off Douma as he asked what position you guys usually fucked in, where Akaza would just yell at him after. Though, if he really wish to know, it was usually a mating press.

But your private relationship..

Akaza was never an outgoing man, in or out of bed. Douma would pout when he would even have a conversation with you over ten minutes that wasn't insulting, as the best thing he could get out of him was a backhanded comment. He never got to talk to him like that, how come his fuck buddy gets to! To Akaza, just being able to touch you under a kimono, or grope at your dick over your clothes, would've been enough for him for a night, cum staining the inside of his pants. Though, farther on with experimenting, you found that the only pose he had known from his decades of life was missionary.. with him on top. That was something you definitely weren't gonna stick with.

So, you showed him the reins. Almost every night he wouldn't be called away or the sleepless days you would be trying to find out every pressure point, nook, and cranny that made him shudder. Hours of lubbing your fingers with spit and trying to find that pace on his cock or in his hole that would make him whine. And it wasn't hard either. Years of chaste loyalty caused Akaza to be an open book; and, oh, was he an open book you were gonna read.

There was a full list of things that made Akaza weak, all carved into the grooves of your brain. Grabbing his waist from behind and pushing your hard on into the groove of his ass, whispering your demands harshly into his skin, and marking him. Oo—He loved that one.

Watching the multiple bite marks stain his skin with a wreath of red crescents, thin red lines traveling down his shoulder blades left when you would tease him with your nails, or hickies tainting his porcelain and lapis skin in a constellation of deep colors. Often after one of your.. sessions, he wouldn't even heal them, relishing in the slight ache of the markings. He never knew why he liked this, but you told him it was nothing but liking. Everyone liked different things, as you explained them as kinks, and he enjoyed standing in front of the full body mirror in your room, a tent rising in his pants as he stared at the different tags of your ownership adorning his skin.

And tonight was one of those nights.

A cracked main left Akaza's swollen lips, his back arching. Pink hair was sticking to his forehead from sweat, whole body glossy with it. His skin wrinkling at the side of his eyes, tears beading his eyelashes. It was all too much but also too little.. he couldn't explain it.

The tip of your cock hit his prostate with every thrust, fingers digging into the skin of his hips and having him meet your movements. Your mouth was practically glued to his skin, teeth nipping and lips sucking marks onto him. With every snap of your hips against his more pleasure rippled through your body, mind clouded with lust. You couldn't even help but rut into him, eyelids fluttering as his hole pulsed around you. Akaza has memorized every vein and curve of your dick, but no matter how many times you force him onto your cock, he can't help but cry on it.

His cock bobbed under him, hitting his abs a couple times with every heave of your hips. He felt a spark of humiliation from the squelching noise of his hole squeezing taut around your length, but he couldn't help him if you were fucking him so well. But, the spark was dissipated by the waves of pleasure crashing upon him, your lips leaving a wet hickey against his pale skin. If anything the spark caused his stomach to twist more, pushing him closer to his orgasm.

Akaza's clawed hands searched for yours, whining out when you thread your fingers together. He was usually a pillow princess as he of course never had to take it from the back, so barely being praised for a long period of time started to take a toll on him. He didn't get into a relationship just to take dick like a slut.. but that was definitely a plus.

Though, his thoughts dispersed when you started to babble into his skin, just the sound of your voice causing his hole to clench tighter, ripping a groan from your throat.. "Oh—you take me so well. Hah ah, f-fuck... Mhmm, your noises are.. 's pretty.." you slurred, brows furrowing as you bit another oval of marks into his shoulder blade. Your teeth clashed with your teeth as you went to lick over the but mark, words barely comprehensible.

The line clad demon shuddered, back arching and hips pushing back onto your cock, a glob of precum falling from the tip of his dick. He couldn't help but let his head fall back into your shoulder, spikey hair falling more unruly while small tears fell down his cheeks. Choked moans and drawn out whines fell from his spit soaked lips, bright eyes glossy with tears that left marks in his face.

"Come on.. haah—oh fuck—you can do it.." you moaned into his shoulder, hand wrapping around his waist and grabbing his dick. With quick strokes you matched them to your thrusts, already overstimulating the great demon. Despite your encouraging words his head shook side to side, body thrashing lightly. He couldn't do it. At this rate, by the second round he would be shooting blanks. 

From both your impending orgasm and Akaza's wiggling your hips stuttered, a light whine falling from your mouth when you missed his prostate. With a newfound vigor your free arm wrapped around his waist, leaning closer to him and pressing your chest flush on his back, hips trying to chase that pleasure you had just been indulging in a second ago. Akaza moaned from the impossible closeness, red eyes going crossed. With a particularly hard thrust to that spongy spot in his ass drool escaped the side of his lips, rolling down from his chin.

"I'm gonna—fuck, haah, oh g-gods- cumming!" He gargled out, eyes squeezing closed. His line covered cock, already soaked with precum and spit, twitched aggressively, ropes of cum spurting from his red (and slightly purple) tip. Beads of the white liquid stained your hand, running down your knuckles and onto the ground. As if right on cue you came after him, tip of your own dick shoving right against his prostate as your own cum squirted out and painted his walls white.  Akaza let out loud whines as he came down from his high, the fatigue of just fucking weighing down on him enough to let him slump back into you.

You sucked in sharp breaths, pecking kisses onto the side of his neck. Your hand continued to run over his spent cock a couple times, pulling whines from the demon. "No—n-no.." he hiccuped softly, the tears once running down his face leaving small streak lines to accompany his blue markings. You continued on, thumb rolling over his tip, coaxing out the last of his cum.

Fingers letting up from his dick you pulled away, holding it in front of his face. Almost immediately Akaza lolled his tongue out, running in over your cum covered palm to get it off. Akaza could barely comprehend the embarrassment his mind wanted to feel, as he would usually be taken aback by anyone telling him to eat his own cum. He wouldn't be in the place to do that anyway, but even if he was, he would have killed you. But of course.. It was you. He would never...

You were his second true love, and even if you died a mortal death before he was executed by the king of demons, he would never forget that.

★✩★✩★✩★

𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲'𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 </𝟑

𝐊.𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 . 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[helltownohiohq]

𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 — 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝟷 / ?

JULY 28TH, 2024 . . . 10:54am.

earlier this morning . . . a fire broke out at one of the most beloved ( and deeply traumatized ) establishments this town has. ash and ember lilted on the late summer breeze, coating the entirety of HELLTOWN, OHIO in a blanket of soot and smoke . . . the wailing of fire trucks and police sirens rung in the air like church bells, which also happened to chime in the background of the chaos that broke out just off the main road.

someone had set the bowling alley ablaze.

it took hours to put the fire out . . . egregious amounts of gasoline and fuel having been dumped in and outside the building making it impossible to calm the raging inferno in a timely manner.

we advise all residents to stay clear of that area of town, for safety purposes and to keep the road clear for emergency vehicles.

JULY 28TH . . . 3:07pm.

an update to the story reported on this morning. . .

resident NIGEL MCNEIL has been arrested in connection to the fire that broke out early this morning at the bowling alley.

mr. mcneil is a longtime resident of HELLTOWN, OHIO and worked primarily in construction and demolition. mr. mcneil is also the father to born-and-raised resident, kayla mcneil, who went missing in january of this year. mr. mcneil was found less than a mile away from the scene, unconscious, with lighter fluid soaked into the fabric of his clothes. when he has recovered from the injuries he sustained from the fire, the police plan on performing a full interrogation.

JULY 28TH. . . 5:24pm.

another breaking update on the bowling alley story . . . one that is devastating and heartbreaking for all residents of HELLTOWN, OHIO. . .

after the fire was put out, and the debris was sifted through, the fire department made a grueling and unnerving discovery. . .

the bodies of the six missing residents were uncovered amongst the destruction, peculiarly untouched by the flames and protected by some kind of fire resistant blanket.

ANTHONY AFZAL

DERRICK ADALHARD

DEVIN WILLIAMS

HELENA CAVARETTA

EVELYN CAMPBELL

KAYLA MCNEIL

our deepest sympathies go out to the families impacted by this tragedy.

JULY 29TH. . . 6:24pm

mother of deceased resident kayla mcneil, KENNEDY MCNEIL, will be holding a fundraiser in the park to raise money for the funeral services and arrangements, as well as provide support and aid, to the families of the bowling alley victims. kennedy also plans to erect a memorial for the fallen with the funds raised, as well.

there will be games, auctions, food trucks, live music, fortune telling, and more . . . all to raise money for the victim's families. as kennedy is a nurse, the fundraiser will also be hosting a blood drive, as " it was something kayla had always asked the hospital to do. she was always wishing to give back to the community. all she ever wanted was to help others and uncover the truth."

the fundraiser will begin on JULY 30TH at 3pm and will go on all week at the park downtown. our deepest sympathies and condolences lie with the families of the deceased, and we encourage the town to show out and show these families support, love, and companionship in their time of loss.

𝐨𝐨𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

buckle in folks . . . we got a wild storm ahead. this is part 1 of ??? for our next event !!

think of this as the conclusion to part one. . . we don't think you're ready for all that is to come !!

[clownpainted]

listen . . .  i’m  not  scared  of  anything  these  days  but  some  of  your  big  3s  in  my  inbox  right  now . . .

[drakainaea]