#i know his birthday is over now (at least where I live) but I still wanna celebrate a bit

[lemongrablothbrok]

Led Zeppelin/Robert Plant Lyrics that Make Me Feel Some Type of Way:

"I want you to love me all night..." - outro to "Communication Breakdown"

"Little Robert Anthony wants to come and play" - "How Many More Times"

Pretty much all of "Whole Lotta Love"

"Squeeze me baby, 'til the juice runs down my leg. The way you squeeze my lemon, I'm gonna fall right out of bed" - "The Lemon Song"

"Sweetest little baby, Daddy ever saw" - "Bring it on Home"

"She looks so pretty, she's sweet enough to eat" - "How Many More Times", live, Royal Albert Hall, Jimmy Page's birthday, 1970

"Hey, hey, mama, said the way you move, gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove. Ah, ah, child, the way you shake that thing, gonna make you burn, gonna make you sting" - "Black Dog"

"Drop down baby, let Daddy see" - "Custard Pie"

"Trampled Underfoot". The whole thing. The whole damn thing.

"Candy Store Rock". Again, the whole damn thing.

"We're gonna love, love, love, 'til the break of day" - "We're Gonna Groove"

"Let's play wild like wildcats do" - Tall Cool One

I'm sure there's plenty others. That's what I could think of off the top of my head right now though.

[saerins]

ᯓ ᝰ CRAZY GOOD .ᐟ — itoshi sae

hold up, netizens. you’re in for a treat this time because guess what? out of all people, it’s time for itoshi sae to hard launch his girlfriend: you.

itoshi sae x female reader. content tags pro-player!sae, established relationship, profanity, kissing, kind of a tease here, he likes showing you off, oliver is the matchmaker. word count 1.5k

ᯓ notes .ᐟ hi guys i finally have some sae content for you all !!! >:) yes i’ve missed him , and no i didn’t abandon him :’) heh i hope all my sae lovers that are still here will like this mwah <3

there are many things that itoshi sae is good at.

soccer skills, one of them. snubbing people, the second. (that’s how he got the reputation of being rude—even if it’s not really true!) and three, not last and not least (but still substantially), it’s causing a buzz.

he caused a buzz the moment he debuted on the soccer field. his first game and he already made a name for himself. people started asking where he’d been his whole life (even if he was introduced to the people very early on), equating him to soccer megastars like cristiano ronaldo.

ever since that day, he’d been caught in the spotlight numerous times. mostly related to soccer, but some due to his personal life. more specifically, the media loves to take a guess on who he’s dating.

yeah, he’s had more than his fair share of dating rumours. if it were up to the media, sae would have had about thirty-four girlfriends by now and he’s only twenty-six this year. (go fish!)

but as many people do, almost everyone who consumes media content about sae is particularly interested in one thing that is shrouded in mystery: his dating life.

because despite all the rumours and whatnot, there’s never been any confirmation of any relationships at all. and no one in his circle has ever coughed anything up, so anything in that regard has been strictly hush-hush.

well, until tonight, when your boyfriend of six months invited you to one of his teammates’ high-profile birthday party.

“what, are you nervous?”

your boyfriend’s ever unbothered tone is still the same as when you first heard it a year ago. somehow you find it funny that one year later you’re living with the same guy you’d first found to be somewhat intolerable.

sighing, you try and zip up the back of your dress, looking into the mirror, making sure you have your best face on. “sae, you have fans that number in the millions, of course i���m nervous,” you comment, watching from the reflection in the mirror as sae saunters over to you, taking his hands out of his pocket.

he smirks at you through the mirror, his body pressed against you as he helps you zip your dress the rest of the way up, his lips right next to your ear. “i’ve never even seen you this nervous in front of me,” he says, poking a little fun at you as he gives you a light kiss on your temple.

a soft chuckle comes from him as you deadpan, obviously in much more distress than he’ll ever know. not that he’ll blame you; he’s used to the fame, you’re not. “relax, they’ll love you.”

“sae, they won’t.”

he shrugs. “yeah, you’re probably right,” he agrees, earning a small slap on the arm—and he’s laughing again, though this time he tilts your chin up and gives you a long, slow kiss. the kind that takes your breath away everytime he does it. “but who cares? i love you.”

and there he goes, saying that as if it’s no big deal. making your heart beat so quickly it’s not funny. and before you know it, he’s whisking you away into the lobby where a personal towncar is ready and waiting, with the chauffeur and everything.

“geez, oliver sure loves to go over the top, huh?”

sae gives a sharp exhale at your comment. “hey, that’s your friend right there.”

you roll your eyes, getting in first and sticking your tongue out at him. “and you should be thanking him, without him we’d never have met.”

you look away from him right after saying that so you don’t see it, but sae’s smiling to himself, already thanking his lucky stars.

he thinks meeting you and getting to love you is the luckiest he’ll ever get in this lifetime.

by the time you’ve arrived at the venue—a hotel in the heart of the city—swarms of paparazzi already litter the streets outside. they’ve no doubt had their fill of the other soccer players and mega celebrities that have already arrived and are now ready for the real star of the night (aside from the birthday boy himself): itoshi sae.

of course, everyone’s expecting to see sae all by himself because that’s what usually happens; sae attending any and every event alone and unbothered by the scene. it’s never a surprise anymore, but sae’s a good payday and they’d never miss a single shot.

the moment sae exits the car, it sounds like there’s a million shutters pressed all at the same time, give or take a few milliseconds. (it’s nothing you’re used to.) he stands right where he got out for a few seconds, and even inside you can hear the amount of photographers just begging sae to look straight at them.

and if you think that’s rowdy enough, oh boy you’re in for a treat. because the moment the paparazzi realise that sae’s not, in fact, headed for the hotel just yet, you can hear just a few confused noises before it turns into even more pleading the moment they realise he’s opening your side of the door.

when he opens it and holds his hand out for you, that ever handsome smile on his face (which you forget that he only ever shows to you), you feel like you’re nearly blinded by all the flashes. you brave through it though, taking his hand and getting out of the town car, being greeted by the mass of photographers yelling out to you and sae.

“sae, who is that!”

“hey, girl! look over here! yes right there!”

“what’s your relationship?”

“obviously that’s his girlfriend! hey you!”

you’re a little wide-eyed, stunned at how chaotic this scene is. it’s easy to lose yourself in it, but as it always is, sae realises it whenever you are, and he’s quick to pull you back in.

in this case, he pulls you into his arms, a hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as he rests his forehead against yours.

“hey, focus on me, just me,” he whispers to you, eyes looking into yours, eyelashes fluttering against one another’s.

(the paparazzi are having a field day.)

“you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you ask him, chuckling because you only now realise what a fucking tease he is.

sae shrugs, pulling your hair away from your face. (he’s actually just really grateful to you for doing this for him when you don’t need to—when you’re happy to just be able to support him behind the scenes but he really just wants the world to know that you exist, because it’s a blessing, really.) “maybe i am.”

and this time your heart’s beating faster than you know it ever could, his teal blue eyes melting into your gaze, lips getting closer and closer to your own, his calloused hand on the back of your neck.

like clockwork, his lips sink into yours, his tongue snaking its way in. (and the crowd goes absolutely wild.) you’re both laughing at the panicked and hurried yells from the photographers, slowly pulling away from each other.

you reach your hand out to wipe your lipstick stain off his lips but he doesn’t let you, winking at you and leaning in to whisper, “let everyone know who i belong to.”

such a fucking tease.

not that you’re opposed, so you let him be, shaking your head and following him as he holds your hand and leads you in.

within the next hour, pictures of you and sae flood the internet. (notifications come flooding into your phone too.)

itoshi sae hard launches new relationship with mystery woman!

soccer world loses another bachelor—everything we know about itoshi sae’s presumed girlfriend

most of them are pictures of your kiss, with a good chunk of it being his lipstick-stained lips.

as you scroll through some of the articles your friends texted to you, you’re probably never going to be used to it. you’re probably going to be anxious over everything you do in public now.

a slight panic bubbles up in your chest, but then sae comes over, pulling you backwards into his embrace, looking over your shoulder at your phone.

“that quick, huh?”

and suddenly it’s like anxiety has never existed. because even if it may not seem like much, a year of knowing itoshi sae has made you feel safer than you ever did, knowing that he’s always there to catch you, to never make you feel alone.

you melt into his embrace, turning your head and giving him a kiss, your lipstick stain still on his lips.

“i fucking love you, itoshi sae.”

his eyes widen a little before they grow soft, arms pulling you even closer. “i love you too, stupid.”

(and while the two of you are getting all lovey-dovey at his party, oliver’s just slightly—a lot—upset that sae upstaged him during his own birthday party.)

“i fucking hate the both of you,” oliver groans.

[meiieiri]

𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 [geto suguru]

synopsis: suguru geto upped and left that day without a moment’s notice and he took everything with him — your heart, your soul — but as you look at the positive pregnancy test in your hand, you realize that he did in fact leave one thing behind.

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, angst, explicit sex.

a/n: i know, i know. i should be writing WE but this concept has been in my head far longer than WE and i just need to get it out there or else, i think i’m gonna go insane. if anyone wants to know the plot of this would have been fic, feel free to let me know lmao, of course it still involves gojo bc i can’t choose between the two of them since they’re both so baby girl—! also happy birthday to the loml, my pookie-wookie, honeybunch, suguru geto!!

It’s been a year since the happy side trip to Okinawa became a living nightmare that culminated in you, Suguru Geto, and Satoru Gojo on the brink of death and with many more scars than you could have ever imagined. The three of you had very different ideas on how to cope. Satoru spends the past year perfecting his cursed technique, often at the expense of his emotional well-being and energy but then again, after what Toji Fushiguro did to him leaving him with the trauma of being slaughtered without regard, it was only natural.

You and Suguru on the other hand retreated into yourselves; it was hard to believe that just a year before the two of you were a normal teenage couple who enjoyed walking the trendy streets of Shibuya in the weekend sunshine without a care in the world, whose only real problem is to decide where the two of you were gonna have your weekly dates.

Now, things were different. Rainclouds have gathered effectively blocking out the sun. As you sat on the desk reading through your textbook on reverse cursed technique, you glance at Suguru from time to time and you aren’t the least bit surprised to see him sitting by the dorm room’s windowsill, staring at the garden with an empty gaze.

You’ve had enough of this. This eternal state of limbo was tearing you and Suguru apart.

Slowly, you stand up from the desk, softly padding across the wooden floor to where your boyfriend is. It was the middle of the night, last you checked, it’s already nine in the evening. You should be heading back to the women’s dorms now but you couldn’t, not when things were like this, not when Suguru’s losing himself day after day, you can’t help him, you know that, but you could be there for him seeing that’s all you can do.

But even then, it’s never enough.

Your relationship with Suguru is like a lit dynamite stick, you know that it’s only a matter of time before it also explodes in your faces. So, Suguru takes the lead, like he always does, he’s so much wiser and stronger than you in every way though he doesn’t care to admit it, though he pretends he doesn’t know why you’re so dependent on him.

“I think we should break up.”

He says that while holding your hand. You saw this coming but just how long did you anticipate that the love of your life would eventually up and leave you? You squeeze his hand with every ounce of the grief you are feeling hoping it would transcend the confines of your skin and it would reach his heart. “Is that what you really want?”

“No.”

He stands up to meet your gaze, the throw blanket falling to the floor as he does. He leans in closer, his hand cupping your cheek with such tenderness and heartache that you feel your heart rise to your throat. Suguru is normally so gentle like a shower of midnight rain, but he kisses you like this is the last — it probably is. Lost in him, your hands trail over his chest, and he deepens the kiss hoping that you’d also understand that he doesn’t really want to leave but he has to. He can’t bear to drag you into his mess.

He could never do that to you.

You respond with a soft moan when Suguru slowly lifts your shirt over your head. He stares at your plump breasts for a moment, covered only by a thin lace-like material, before deciding that looking at you wasn’t enough. He has to take you, ravish you, fondle you, kiss you. Anything to let you know that he’s not doing this because he’s fallen out of love with you.

“Don’t leave,” you plead in between his soft kisses to your breasts, tears slipping from your eyes as he removes your bra, letting it slip from your shoulders which he was now kissing up to the crook of your neck. How could your hearts be so full yet so empty at the same time?

None of what happened should have caused this much heartache between the two of you. In fact, it should have made you rely on each more, right? It should have strengthened you not destroy everything you had: each other, the future you planned together.

Suguru doesn’t answer as he nips at your neck, sucking on the delicate flesh, as your forms gracefully fall on the bed, he stares at you with such love, such devotion, and you wonder why this should be the last time. His gaze falls to your vulnerable form, his cock hardening at the sight of your clothed pussy getting wet just from that. He grinds against you, sighing at the way you buck your hips to meet his wanting more of him. If this was to be the last time, then, you want to make it count.

“Suguru, I’m yours.” That’s all he needs to hear and he removes your underwear, kissing down your leg as he slips it off of you. He tosses it onto his nightstand, and he leans towards it to grab a condom from his drawer. You catch his hand. “Don’t. I want to feel you.”

Suguru’s eyes widen at your request, his lips eliciting short huffs of breath. He’s never fucked you raw before. “Are you sure?”

You nod against his forehead. “Please. Please fuck me, Su.”

Slowly, his hand guiding his tip up and down your slit, smearing your wetness along the base of his cock before slowly pushing into you savoring the sensation of your cunt squeezing around him as he stretches you with his girth. A deep groan betrays him and his mouth hangs open as your tight walls envelop him as he bottoms out. He takes a moment to collect himself, not wanting to cum right then and there.

“S-shit. Ah, you’re so fucking tight.” He allows himself a small thrust, the tip of his cock already nudging your sensitive spot, having memorized you after many desperate nights of lovemaking. His fingers grip the soft skin of your hips as he pulls out momentarily before pushing back in again more forcefully this time.

“S-su! Mngh—please fuck me—I love you, I love you, I love you,” you beg.

A tear slips from Suguru’s eyes, it was becoming more real now — this final goodbye. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he slowly builds up the pace of his thrusts, his cock bullying your cunt, driving himself in and out of your pussy, again and again. He brings your leg to his waist, holding it so he could angle himself better. “I love you too.”

You mewl as he pistons in and out of you, his balls slapping hard against your skin. “Sugu—ah! More—n-need more of you—“ You’re crying now, and he is too as he continues to ravage your pussy, his hand finds your other leg and he pushes your knees close to your chest, folding you into a deep mating press, slamming into your cunt.

“I’m yours. Always,” Suguru looks into your eyes amidst your desperate cries, your thighs trembling under his passionate gaze. He grunts when he feels the familiar tightening of your walls. “You’re close—fuck,” he takes this as an incentive to go faster, harder, and he fucks you in a way he never has before.

“So good—oh—“ you fall silent as he suddenly brings your hands to your clit, letting you touch yourself. You looked so beautiful like this, under him, your head thrown back against the pillows, your mouth primed in a silent ‘o’. He pants as he feels his balls tighten when your hips involuntarily buck into him as you climax. “Suguru!”

“Ah, baby…” He groans, the hot breath from his lips tickling your forehead as he rides out his high, spilling his seed into you not caring what the consequences may be. You did want this after all, and he did too. You feel full just from the sensation of his thick cum, he thrusts into you one last time, further smearing his release in your walls.

You sighed as he stays there, your weak and trembling arms coming up to embrace him. He strokes your hair, memorizing each lock, pulling out after a while. Suguru pulls you flush against his chest, the remnants of his and your release sliding down your thighs. “It’ll be okay,” Suguru catches his breath, kissing your temple. “Even without me. You’ll be okay.”

“I won’t…you know I won’t.”

“You will.” He says firmly. “I promise. You know me, baby, I never break my promises.” You feel tears well up in your eyes again and he tenderly wipes it away. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too.”

By the next morning, you already knew with the way the AC’s cold air nips at your skin without Suguru, your Suguru, there to embrace you that he’s already left.

Without a note, without a goodbye. Typical of Suguru who doesn’t want to stick around to see you cry.

You curl into yourself as sobs wrack your body, the promise ring Suguru gave you gleaming under the rays of morning sunlight.

A few years later, just as Suguru said, things did get better. You smiled as you arranged the last of the tempura into the bento box filled with soba noodles with nori and small containers of mentsuyu and wasabi. It’s amazing how much she takes after him. You look at the clock and your face pales. You’re running late, so, you head upstairs to speed things up a little. You creak open the door to see the little blessing of your life, the last gift Suguru ever gave you. She’s looking at the picture of you and Suguru which you placed in her room, and since you know it was highly unlikely she’ll ever meet your lover in this lifetime, you’ve decided you want her to know him if by his appearance alone and the stories you tell her.

“Riko? We’re gonna be late,” you gently reminded your four-year-old daughter. You shoot her a funny look when you see the haphazard way she placed her hair in a bun. She pouts as she tries to get it right again, looking at her father’s picture intently. “Sweetheart, are you trying to look like—?”

“Like papa,” she huffs cutely and you chuckle, moving to pick her up and sit her down on your lap. Kissing her cheek, you also gaze at the picture depicting a candid you and Suguru during your first year at Tokyo Jujutsu Technical College. He has his arm wrapped around your shoulder, winking at the camera as he kisses your cheek, a silent gleeful laugh on your face.

You look at her, a little confused, you gently smooth her hair before planting a kiss between her eyebrows. “And why do you want to look like papa?” Riko shyly looks away, her ears turning a little red as she blushes, a trait she inherited from you. You flick her nose, giggling. “Well?” Riko laughs at the playful gesture.

“…So you don’t cry anymore, mama.” Your heart seems to have stopped beating for a moment and a warm, tearful smile appears on your face, wrapping Riko in a bone-crushingly tender hug. “Love you…” she sinks into the warmth of your hug and you kiss the top of her head.

“I love you, Riko. So…so…much.”

At that, your little girl sighs in relief. “School?” she tilts her head and you suddenly remembered the reason you went upstairs. You had to get moving. Your eyes widened and you carry her downstairs, being careful not to jostle her too much. “My hair, mama!” she giggles at her still unruly hair and you grimace in embarrassment. Suddenly, the front door opens and Riko sees who it is, before you could grab the spare brush from your bag, she suddenly jumps out of your arms and makes a beeline for the door.

“Papa, papa!”

You turn around and though the sight pains you to this day, somehow, you’re starting to learn to live with the fact that things are always bound to change with time and that this is what Suguru would have wanted: a loving and complete family for his little girl. You wrap Riko’s bento and place it in her lunchbox before going to greet the visitor.

“Hi, babe.” He turns to meet your lips for a sweet kiss, balancing Riko in his strong arms.

“Good morning, Satoru.”

[yanderenightmare]

L "Lawliet"

rewatched Death Note and just couldn't resist...

TW: strict schooling ig, orphan reader, creepy behavior

gn reader

You were placed in Wammy’s House at an age you don’t remember. To you and most of the orphans here, it’s been your entire lives. Birthdays aren’t celebrated. The days are cold, the residents even colder. There was a time when you’d consider them brothers and sisters, but that’s also long ago now. No one is close to each other in this house.

It’s a rather stale existence with boring conditions unfit for normal children – the solitude, the competition, the games, always a ploy to make each other feel worthless. And for what… more riddles to solve?

You’d long lost interest in proving yourself among the prodigies. When you were given puzzles, you always played with them differently than the rest. They’d tell you to fill out the sheets, and you ended up making origami swans instead.

Looking around at the others, you knew you would never understand them – all blank faces staring into space. They all make you uneasy. You don’t know if it’s you or them that’s missing something, but you recognize it’s a rather pointless question to be begged. 

So you leave your paper flock on the floor and walk away.

You’d started putting the chisel of a black marker to the library books in your spare time – trying to make something else out of the boring pages. Something more palatable than the droning of law and policy you’d already read ten times over.

You had blacked out the word doppelganger when there came a disturbance.

“You had 84% of them right.”

You peeked up from the book, lowering your knees from where you had them tucked close for privacy – sitting on the floor between two bookshelves – a little nook you’d discovered to hide yourself from the rest of the busy readers in the usually crowded library.

It was empty now. Everyone was otherwise busy with the test still.

And yet, a mess of black hair was crouched down in front of you, shadowing his equally dark eyes. He held your swans unfolded in his hands. It was a disturbing sight for some reason – as though he’d dissected their guts. 

“You left 16% unanswered. Most people would test their luck and guess.”

L must have been the least creative alias born in the dull walls of Wammy’s House, and yet, he’s supposed to be the brightest of all those living there. He always finishes your tests early and leaves in favor of his own devices. Much like you, you suppose. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak before.

Suppose it’s only courtesy you pay him the same effort even when what you really want is to tell him to leave you alone…

You narrowed your eyes a bit, looking at him.

You sensed foul play in a game you had no wish to partake in but moved across the board like a sacrificial pawn anyway. That’s how you play these things, after all – never show your cards.

“There’s nothing to guess.” You sigh – despite knowing he already knows all this. “The blanks are trick questions.”

“So you noticed, too?” His eyes are like inkblots – much like those spills you’ve made in your book when you let the marker rest too long. He dropped your papers between you in favor of gripping his knees, leaning forward. “We’re the only ones.”

You purse your lips at his eagerness. You should have played dumb from the start – should have said you swiped the answer sheet from the headmaster’s office. He’d only spoken all but four sentences, and you were already exhausted. Any conversation with any one of your peers was like an interrogation.

“You started folding paper cranes when I was 94% done. Easy logistics would put you 6% ahead of me. But, unlike me, it didn’t seem you were filling out the answer sheets in any hurry. In fact… you seemed bored. And in that case, I’d put you around 16%, no... 18% ahead of me.”

You allowed the following silence to inform him that his ramblings were boring you. But it didn't seem he took the hint – showing no signs he planned on leaving.

Your eyes grew more jaded.

“Paper swans.” You corrected blandly. “You know my alias is Swan.”

You clapped your book together and sighed again.

“And we both know you were finished long before I started folding them.” 

He had a small smile on his face. It looked as if you’d drawn it on with your marker.

“You can state all the percentages in the world to try and confuse me, but your mind games won’t get under my skin for one single simple reason, L…” You got up and brushed off the dust, then walked away while saying, “I’m not interested in playing – not with you or anyone else in this miserable place. So do me a favor and leave me alone.”

L watches you leave and taps his lips with his pointer.

Puzzles and answer sheets have bored him for a while. Maybe he ought to play with you instead…

[sserafics]

MAKE A WISH — henry h. x fem reader

fluff, use of y/n, reader has a bad experience w/ bdays, friends to lovers (?), set in season 4-5, second person pov

(requested!)

the dread you feel when you wake up on your birthday isn’t unfamiliar. every year it’s like this. quiet. lonely. though, it’s not all bad. at least you don’t have people nagging at you to open their presents first.. or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

your birthday has never been something you particularly look forward to; the day has always been filled with empty promises, disappointment, or just being alone in general.

this year, you’ve decided to just stay home, locked in your room all day with a blanket and movies you love to watch on repeat.

you’re curled up on your bed, surrounded by pillows and blankets while you watch a movie you’ve seen a thousand times before.

it was peaceful, almost like today was just a normal day, and not something you should be celebrating with friends and family; until a knock on your window startles you. you frown and pause the movie, getting out of bed and walking to your window. you open the blinds slowly, squinting against the light that filters into the previously dark room.

your brow furrows when you see your best friend, henry hart standing— or sitting on the tree next to your window.

“happy birthday, y/n.” he beams, smiling widely as if he’s not one slip away from falling two stories down. he’s holding a box in his hand, wrapped neatly with colored paper.

you blink. “henry, what are you doing here?” you ask, still frowning as you help him inside.

“i’m here you kidnap you,” he says sarcastically, slipping through your window effortlessly. he hands you the box he was holding, gesturing for you to open it.

you take it, looking at him skeptically before popping the lid open.

“i know you like to spend your birthday alone, but i thought you’d wanna give this a shot.” he gestures to the box, where two tickets to a carnival lay, next to a small pack of your favorite candy. a small smile makes its way to your lips.

you look back up at him, now hesitant as you remember your past birthdays. the disappointment and sadness the day always brought, but there’s a look in his eyes that intrigues you.

“i don’t know..” you murmur, your gaze trailing back to the tickets.

“come on,” he urges you gently, “just give me a few hours. if you hate it, i’ll bring you back, deal?”

you bite your lip, still a bit skeptical.

“i already bought the tickets.” he adds, smiling again at the look on your face after he says that.

you sigh, still debating in your mind if this is worth the trouble, after all, birthdays aren’t really your thing, yet the look on his face makes you second guess yourself.

you nod after a moment. “fine, but just a few hours.”

henry’s grin widens and he takes your hand, leading you out your room. as the two of you leave your house, you can’t help but wonder why he didn’t just knock on the front door. your parents aren’t home anyway, so it’s not like it’d matter.

you don’t have much time to dwell on the thought, the lights and sounds of the carnival ahead breaking you out of your thoughts.

when you arrive, your eyes widen in awe. the colorful lights, the laughter of children, the delicious smell of popcorn and cotton candy— all fills your senses as you two walk in. the atmosphere is a start contrast to the quiet day you had planned on having. you look over at henry and see he’s already looking at you, smiling at your reaction.

“well? what do you think?” he asks, letting go of your hand briefly to fetch the tickets, handing them to the guy in the booth.

“it’s… nice.” you mumble, still looking around at the lively atmosphere.

after the two of you are let in, you approach the game booths. despite your initial reluctance on coming, you start to feel excitement and enthusiasm as he hands the woman at the ring toss booth a few quarters.

you stifle a laugh as henry tries (but fails) to win you a specific panda plush that caught your eye the moment you stepped foot in the carnival.

the two of you have been standing here for about ten minutes, him being determined to win you the plush.

“here, let me try.” you tell him, taking one of the darts from his hands. you turn back towards the booth and throw the dart, hitting the exact balloon he was aiming for, a prideful smile forming on your lips as the man in the booth reaches for the plush and hands it to you.

you look over at henry, who looks shocked. his jaw dropped, almost looking offended at you hitting the balloon so effortlessly.

“i’m supposed to be winning you prizes for your birthday, not the other way around, y/n” he says, sounding exasperated yet joking.

you laugh and reach for his hand, pulling him toward another booth, the panda plush tucked under your arm. “cmon, you can win me that one.” you add, pointing to a stuffed frog at a beanbag toss booth.

when the sun begins to set, a warm glow casting over the carnival from it, henry leads you to the ferris wheel. you hold onto the stuffed animals and the other things he managed to win you tightly as the two of you enter the pod.

you take a seat on one side of the ferris wheel, and you furrow your brows at the box sitting on the other side.

henry grabs the box and places it on his lap, opening the lid to reveal a small cake, that writes ‘happy birthday y/n’ in cursive lettering on top.

“i made this for you.” he smiles, pulling out a small pack of candles and a lighter, lighting them as the ferris wheel begins to slowly move.

he holds the cake near your face, the light of the candles illuminating your face. he smiles wider as he says, “make a wish, y/n”

you close your eyes, a warm feeling in your chest slowly building up as you make your wish. you open your eyes and blow out the candles, smiling softly.

you look at him again, noticing his face closer than your used to. you don’t pull away, though.

he laughs awkwardly before pulling out a plastic fork from the box and cutting a small piece from the cake. “say ‘ah’” he smirks playfully, holding the piece up to your mouth.

you roll your eyes but part your lips, allowing him to feed you. he feeds you a few bites and even purposely smears a bit of frosting onto your nose, making your face scrunch up. he laughs at that and sets the cake down on the seat. you turn to look out the window, taking in the view of swellview below you, the sunset casting a warm glow over the buildings.

“hey, y/n.” his voice rings out, making you turn back to look at him, confused.

“yeah?”

“you’ve got some frosting,” he gestures vaguely to your face, making you frown and try to wipe it away.

“no, no. not there.” he adds, smiling wider and leaning closer. you don’t notice at first. he gently grabs your wrist to stop you from rubbing at your face.

“where is it?-“ you began, thinking he’d get it for you, but your words cut off when he suddenly leaned in and kissed you softly, cupping your cheek.

the kiss was short, almost like it never happened, but the way his hand cups your face assures you that it’s real. your best friend is kissing you.

you pull back after a moment, your cheeks feeling hot as you open your eyes, looking up at him.

“got it.” he comments smugly.

you blink. your wish came true.

later that night, as henry helps you climb back into your window, you can’t help but ask him something that’s been on your mind since earlier.

as you plop into your bedroom, you turn back to the window, where he’s sitting on the tree again.

“hey henry?”

“hm?” he hums, looking back at you, slightly confused.

“schwoz made the cake, didn’t he?”

…

“…yeah.”

(a/n) omf this took me so long to post 😞 thank u to whoever requested this!! it was so cute and fun to write 🫶🏻 also to everyone else who sent me a request i’ll try my best to get them done soon! thank u for ur patience and i hope you guys enjoyed reading!!! :)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for "using" a cucumber and putting it back in the fridge?

(🥒👌 to find later)

Please, I know it sounds nuts but hear me out. I feel awful and I need to know just how bad this is. Also, I intentionally left as much as possible vague as I am a minor and I do not want this to get removed for being too explicit. But the story will not make sense if I don't include certain things, please understand.

So I (16M) grew up in and currently still live in the bible belt, with extremely conservative evangelical parents. As a taste of what it's like, we have church 3 times a week, and church camp every summer. We are only allowed to access Netflix through a stupid content filter app and we can only use a restricted smart phone that is regularly checked at random by our parents. We get an hour and a half of computer usage every other day, and the internet on the computer is heavily filtered also. The only reason I have access to Tumblr and am able to post this now is because my best friend's older brother gave me his old android for my birthday a few years ago. His family is much more open minded, and I'm very close with them. I also think they have always felt a little bad for me with my family being the way they are.

I'm also gay. Obviously, my family does not know, and I intend to keep it that way. I won't go too deep into it, but it will suffice to say I struggled a lot when I was younger over this. The good thing is that in the last few years, I've been able to accept myself more and come to terms with what my own feelings about religion and faith really are. I came out to my best friend and his brother a little over a year ago, and they've been very supportive. I have yet to tell any of my other friends.

Recently, I've been trying out alcohol since my friends found a hookup. Something I have discovered is that I tend to get lewd feelings when I drink, which has nearly caused a few embarrassing moments around friends. Coincidentally, I have also been experimenting with... certain things. Being a minor, I obviously can't enter any of the adult stores around me, nor would I feel comfortable asking any of my friends to drive me there if I could. I also can't order anything online because my bank account is connected to my parents, and I don't have a shipping address I'm comfortable using for those items either. So instead, I use household objects that belong to me and can be sanitized easily. You might see where this is going.

Yesterday evening, I came home from best friend's house with a full bottle of wine in my backpack. We and a few other friends had already been sipping on a few beers that afternoon, and I still felt a little buzzed. After my family went to sleep, despite already having a little alcohol in my system, I proceeded to get wasted on this bottle of wine in my room. I don't have the clearest memory of all of this, but at some point, I got hungry and lewd-feeling. Went into the kitchen and, through some kind of thought process I can only imagine now, came back into my room with a cucumber. From the title of the post, you can hazard a guess as to what happened to this cucumber. Once I was done, I drukedly and quickly washed it in the bathroom sink and threw it back into the fridge. I went to sleep.

I started freaking out as soon as I woke up this morning. There were four cucumbers in the fridge, I was pretty positive at least two were going to be used for dinner tonight, and I had no idea which cucumber I did the deed with. To make matters worse, my mom was inviting the pastor of our church and his family over for dinner. I have practically no money currently, no license or vehicle, and no friends with vehicles free to pick up new cucumbers for me (and no reasonable explanation as to why I needed them to spot me for four cucumbers specifically). I also have no believable reason to give for why we shouldn't have cucumbers added in the salad mix. My mom knows I love them, and they haven't gone bad. Can't say I ate them because who the hell eats four raw cucumbers? And she'll interrogate both my brother and I until she gets a satisfying answer if I just throw them out. I didn't know what the hell to do about this and I was close to having a panic attack, so... I took a nap.

Evening came. Guests came over, dinner happened. We had porkchops with macaroni and side salads. Cucumbers were in the salad, and I along with pastor's family and my own, ate it like nothing was wrong. My parents, the pastor and his wife had an engaging conversation about politics, religion, and some mild church gossip after dinner. My little brother continued to read his book, and I had a very awkward and one-sided conversation about Young Sheldon with the pastor's daughter. Then they left. And I went to my room to mentally implode.

To say I'm horrified is a major understatement. I don't think anyone is going to get sick because I scrubbed all of the cucumbers with soap multiple times and cleaned the vegetable drawer with bleach when I woke up this morning. I guess I also don't know that the violated cucumber was one of the ones that was used for dinner tonight, but then it's only a matter of days until we have salad again, or if mom cuts one up for water. I've rattled my brain for any way I could get some new cucumbers without telling anyone the details of the event, but I have nothing. Don't even have the money, anyway. Gave up the last bit of cash I had for the damn wine yesterday, and I have $0.43 in total on my debit card.

Admittedly, there is a very small part of me that doesn't even really care if they have eaten or end up eating the damn thing. I can't stand my family. My parents are invasive, controlling and neurotic, and don't give a shit about how I'm doing in so far as it pertains to god and the church. I'm a little more sympathetic to my brother as he's been stuck in this hell with me, but at 13 he's already begun to regurgitate way more religious dogma than I ever did at his age. And I know for a fact that they would want nothing to do with me if they found out I was gay. They'd probably kick me out on the street and spit on me if I had to guess. But even still, this is only a small part of how I feel. What I did was still so gross, and no amount of animosity I have for them can change how mortifed I am. I do have at least a semblance of a conscience.

So...AITA for all of this? WIBTA if I did nothing about the other two cucumbers? Please help.

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Dad!Han Jisung x F!Reader TW : first half angst ; reader is pregnant ; Ji is kind of an a-hole ; he fixes himself ; time jump for the second half ; ji and readers daughter is 5 ; Ji is still an a-hole ; angst ; happy ending though ; Word Count : 6.5k Request : Anonny : Can you please write an angst with a fluffy ending on hannie - where y/n surprises him that shez pregnant(w a daughter)but he lashes out at her harshly and says he doesn't want the baby bcz of his tiring and exhausting schedule - but realises his mistake sooner and apologizes her and even takes care of her during her pregnancy and even his precious daughter once she's born , And one mor fic of angst w a fluffy ending on hannie - where he lashes out at his 5 y/o daughter and y/n as they asked him to spend more time with him ,and especially on his daughter's bday and he didn't even remember her daughters bday and said all the possible harsh things like way too harsh things to them on his daughters bday - but later the same he realises it's his daughters bday and regrets immediately and Apologizes to both yn and his daughter and even surprises his precious daughter lately on her birthday A/N : I'm combining these two!! It'll be a famous Nana time jump for this one so I can pair them together in one fic. I changed the request just a little bit, but I hope you still enjoy it, Anonny. ALSO! I think I got the job!! That also means that I'll be working overnights (graveyard shift), but I'll actually be respected and treated fairly so... I'm really happy. I'll be able to get the hours that I need to pay my bills as well. I won't be able to write as much, but I promise I will write when I get the chance to.

Were you and Jisung together? Of course you were, he was the love of your life, and vice versa. You couldn’t imagine a single day that went by when you weren’t able to happily say he was yours. Ji made you laugh, he made you laugh to the point where your stomach hurt and your eyes filled with tears and you were doubled over wheezing and gasping for breath. Ji made your heart feel full, so full that there was no more room in your chest for it to grow anymore. He made you feel loved in a way that was so magical, so dreamlike, it was like living in your own fairytale except it was all real, and every morning you got to wake up and know that he was yours and you were his. 

Were you and Jisung together though? No, very rarely. His job kept him away from you more often than not, and while the moments that the two of you were able to physically be together were… well, dreamlike, a lot of the time, most of the time, your interactions were kept to phone calls and late night texts or video calls. You tried to be supportive, you didn’t complain as much as most people probably would, although there were many times when you wanted to just break down and beg him to put you before his job at least once a month. But you didn’t, you’d put on a smile as you hugged him and kissed him goodbye after one of those rare nights when he would be able to come over and spend the night. 

He spent most of his time at the dorms with the other guys, and while he’d try to invite you over there, you’d always kindly decline. As much as you loved the guys and looked at them as brothers, you wanted to be able to spend time with Ji alone, and to you it seemed like he’d rather be around them than to be around you sometimes. You wished that he’d grow up a little, prioritize the relationship, and it seemed less like a wish and more like a need now. It only took one rare night that he spent the night for you to get the most life changing news of… well… your life. 

///

“Can you… Can you hear me?” You asked into your phone, the mind numbing sound of static coming through the speaker was headache inducing, but you really needed to talk to him. 

“Yeah… Kind of… Shit, this reception is really bad. Can you just text me, baby?” His voice came through choppy and muffled, it sounded like he was underwater, and while you knew that it would be best to text him considering the way the phone call was going, this wasn’t really something that you wanted to tell him over text. You wanted to hear his reaction, and while it would have definitely been better to tell him in person, he was currently on tour and you knew that by the time he got back, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise. 

“I really need to talk to you…” You said, rushing out the front door to stand on the porch, hoping that the service would be better now that you were outside. “Can you hear me now?” You asked, and you heard him hum in agreement, and while you should have felt better that this moment wasn’t stalled any longer, your stomach began to twist into knots and although the mid-February wind was whipping around you, there was sweat dripping down the back of your neck. 

“You okay, baby? What’dya need to talk about?” His voice filled the silence, and you knew that he didn’t have much time before he had to go back to work. He wasn’t rushing you, but you felt rushed, you didn’t want to wait forever to tell him, and you thought that maybe the news would brighten his day and lift his mood that had already peaked. He was so sweet, so gentle, and he had often talked about one day having a little baby Ji to follow in his footsteps, you were certain that his reaction would be nothing but positive. 

“I’m pregnant, Ji…” You whispered, and there was no question as to whether he heard you. The sound of a gasp, and then loud coughing, and then silence. Had he muted his phone so he could celebrate with the guys? “Babe? You still there?” You asked, trying not to get overly excited yourself. You wanted to save your own celebration for when he came back home and you both could be together to share in the excitement of such big news. 

“No. I… Look, I need some time to think about this because… You just… Do you even know what I’m doing right now? I’m about to do a show and you think I needed to hear that before I go on stage? As if things aren’t stressful enough for me… I don’t… I don’t want a damn kid right now!” Had you set your expectations too high? This was most definitely not the way you thought that the announcement would turn out, and this wasn’t the way you thought he’d be. It was so shocking that you were stunned into silence, frozen like a statue on the front porch. “I don’t want it. That’s it… That’s all I have to say. Figure something out because this isn’t going to work. I have to go.” 

And he did. He hung up, leaving you with so many thoughts, but none of them stuck long enough to really form into anything more. What the hell did he expect you to do? You were already 3 months along, it’s not like you were just going to get rid of the baby because he decided that he didn’t want it. That did change things though, it changed a lot of things. You weren’t sure what you were going to do right at that very second, but you had a lot to figure out before he came back from tour. 

~

After the concert, after all of the stress of the show wore off, he was able to really think. He thought about the phone call, he thought about what he said, and he was immediately hit with a wave of regret. He didn’t know what the hell he was thinking when he said it, he didn’t know what came over him, and the only reason he could truly come up with was the stress. It was the damndest thing, because he truthfully wouldn’t mind being a father, especially knowing that someone as amazing and caring and loving as you would be the mother to his child. 

That’s why he tried to get in touch with you, calling your phone repeatedly until he came to the stomach turning conclusion that you just weren’t going to answer him. That didn’t stop him from calling once more to leave a message though. “Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said, I love you so damn much, and I’m happy, I really am. I do want the baby, I want this, I do. Please, don’t think about what I said, I wish I could just take it all back, I wish I could make you forget that I was stupid enough to say something like that. I hope you’re sleeping and when you wake up, just call me, please call me, baby. I need to hear your voice, I need to know that we’re going to be okay. I love you.” 

The call was promptly ended before he fell back onto the hotel bed. It was strange how he had been able to sleep by himself in the dorms for so many nights, he was able to fall asleep without you, but now that he knew that you were carrying his child, now that he knew how much he had fucked up, he couldn’t seem to sleep at all, and he wanted nothing more than to be right beside you, holding you. 

He was restless, he couldn’t even close his eyes to try to get some sleep, and he knew that there was no way he’d be able to perform the following night, not unless he knew everything was okay back at home. So he didn’t sleep, instead he got online and started looking up tickets for the next flight that would take him home to you. How was he even supposed to perform when his mind was running rampant with thoughts of you leaving him? He couldn’t do anything with those thoughts plaguing him. 

So he bought the ticket, a red eye flight that he’d hopefully be able to get a little bit of shut eye on before he landed. He didn’t just need to sleep, he needed to think of what he’d say once he got back home to you. He was sure that the guys would understand. Or maybe they wouldn’t… He’d apologize to them for leaving on such short notice, and he’d make sure to come up with some elaborate excuse for the fans as to why he wasn’t there. 

He knew that he wasn’t the best at prioritizing the most important things, at least not what most people would consider important. He had spent so many years of his life working towards this dream of becoming a famous idol, and even when he achieved that dream, he just couldn’t stop. Even when you had entered his life and made the world seem so much brighter, he had foolishly continued to choose his career, and you had, amazingly enough, still decided to stand beside him and put up with his shit. He had to show you that you were important, not just you now though, but this baby, this child who had come as a surprise, but he made a mental note and a promise to himself to love this child, his child, regardless of anything that happened. 

///

You stood in the kitchen, a cup of coffee held tightly in your hands as you overlooked the city just outside your window. You tried not to think about what he had said, you wanted to have a decent morning, well, evening… It was already 1 in the afternoon. When you woke up there had been so many calls from him, but only one voicemail that you were far too scared to listen to. You knew that he was angry, he was pissed, and you didn’t want him to go off on you again, even if it were only through a recording. You still had to figure out what to do though, it didn’t seem like there was much in regards to options. You weren’t going to get rid of the baby, and as much as you loved Jisung, the life that was now growing inside of you was far more important than a relationship that was clearly one sided. 

The birds chirping just outside your window had captured your attention fully, the sounds of the city which had seemed so loud before were now almost calming, but that calm was soon disrupted by the sound of the lock being undone on your front door. You whipped around just in time to see Jisung standing in the doorway, disheveled and slightly frazzled as he dropped his bags to the floor. “What are you doing here?” You asked, refusing to move any closer to him. “Thought you had a tour to worry about?” 

His head shook and his bottom lip jutted out, shaky breaths had him trembling where he stood just as still as you had been on the front porch just yesterday. “The tour isn’t more important than you. It’s not more important than our family… our baby…” He whispered, his voice shaking just as much as his body was. “I was an idiot, an overly stressed out idiot… But I didn’t mean it. D-Did you listen to the message?” 

You rolled your eyes, trying not to pay too much attention to how sad he was and just how much it pulled at your heartstrings to see him that way. You just had a soft spot for him, and you were sure that that would never go away, or, at the least, take a while to fade. You had to be strong though, and even if what he said was true, you had to let him know how much you had been hurt by what he said before. “No… I didn’t. I think you said enough, and I didn’t really want to listen to your voice again, not any time soon.” It was a lie, you loved his voice, you didn’t want to go a day without hearing it, but watching the way his face crumpled, you could tell that your words really hit him. 

“That’s fair…” He whispered, a loud sniffle coming from across the room. “You don’t have to listen to it… I’ll say it now. I love you… and I love the little baby that we made together… And I’m sorry I was a dick. I don’t want to lose you, not because I was stupid and stressed out. I don’t want to lose you at all, ever.” Now his words were hitting you, although you were definitely going to blame the fresh tears that were streaming down your face on the raging hormones that were currently coursing through your body. “Don’t cry… Please don’t cry, I’ll cry too.” 

“You’re already crying though…” You whimpered out, a small sob mixed with a giggle. It felt so nice to laugh, but it felt even better to laugh with him. You wanted to put it in the past, not forget it, but right now you just wanted to move on. “Do you have to go back? I don’t want you to get in trouble for missing the shows…” 

His shoes had already been kicked off, making his way now over to where you stood in the kitchen, his hands cupping your face and his thumbs brushing away your tears. “I’m staying here… Where I belong. Changbin or Hyunjin can cover my parts. I want to be here with you, and that’s where I’m going to be. No more crying, I want to hear all about how you’re feeling, I want to be here for you.” 

///

The next months of your pregnancy were strange. It was like they were going too fast, but they also weren’t going fast enough. You loved being pregnant, but you weren’t a big fan of all the attention you were getting. It was one thing for it to be coming from Ji, but it was like everyone gravitated towards you, or… Moreso, your bump that everyone seemed to want to touch and ogle over like they’ve never seen a pregnant woman before. 

Jisung was too kind to tell anyone to really back away from you, and you didn’t know half of the people that would swarm around you wherever you went, but it was exhausting to deal with them. You knew that Jisung meant well though, and you could tell that he was proud to be a soon-to-be father, you could just feel the pride radiating off of him whenever he talked about it. 

His proudest moment to date though, was when he found out you were having a girl, that you were carrying his daughter. Tears of joy streamed down his face as he looked on in awe at the sonogram screen. You had to practically snap him back to reality that day, his head stuck in the clouds, daydreaming about the day his daughter would be born, the day he’d finally get to hold her and see her. He had told you all about it in the car on the way home. 

From that day forward, as if he wasn’t already like your shadow, he practically became glued to your hip. You love him, you really do, but it became annoying, not that you’d tell him that. You couldn’t do anything without him being right there beside you just to do it for you. You appreciated the help, but it’s not like you were on bed rest, you could still do things on your own. You couldn’t blame anyone for him being so protective, the only thing you could blame was the internet. He had been looking up what changes your body went through during the many weeks of your pregnancy, and he happened to stumble across the complications that could occur as well. That’s when you got your very panicked, very helpful, and slightly irritating Jisung. 

By the time you reached the third trimester though, you were so exhausted and your back ached so badly that you didn’t even mind it anymore. He had managed to get the rest of the guys in on helping you too, especially if he was in the studio for a long period of time- which was anything longer than 45 minutes -he’d have one of them check up on you and see if you needed anything. 

When he was home or when he got home, he’d shower you in attention and affection, kissing you first before pressing a kiss to your stomach and asking how your day has been, although his gaze would be focused solely on your stomach, absolutely mesmerized by the way your stomach looked when his daughter would move. He loved the way she reacted to his voice, you on the other hand could never get comfortable, although you once again, would never tell him that. He just looked so happy, and he’d get so excited, telling everyone how his baby girl recognized his voice and would move whenever she heard him. 

Of course, she decided to stay in for a little longer than the expected 40 weeks, and by the 41st week you were begging the doctors to induce you. You couldn’t remember the last time you were able to use the bathroom or take a shower without Jisung being right outside the door asking if you were okay or if you needed help every 5 seconds. He really did mean well, but you couldn’t wait for your daughter to be out so that you’d be able to not only get some peace, but also some privacy where you needed it most. 

It was all worth it though when you saw Jisungs face light up at the sight of his daughter when she was born. Tears of joy streamed down his face as his hands seemed to automatically reach out for her, his lips formed into a circle, absolutely amazed at the fact that this, not so little, baby just came from you. If there had been nothing else to prove to you how good of a father he would be, this moment, the moment she was placed into his arms and you could just see it in his face, his entire world was complete now… He was going to be the best father. 

///

5 years seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, and the little baby girl that would once curl up in yours and Jisungs arms to fall asleep, your little cuddle bug, was now a ball of energy that would whip around the house being the biggest goofball, much like her father, to bring a smile to people's faces. She was the life and the light of any room she went into, but at night, when she’s run out all of her energy and she’s tuckered out, you and Ji will catch a glimpse of your little baby girl, curled up in the middle of his and your bed. 

She was more energetic than usual, but that’s because it was her birthday. Her party wouldn’t be until the weekend, but you still wanted to do a little something special to celebrate the official day. Jisung had to work, but he didn’t want to get stuck at the office so he decided to work from home so he could just pack up his laptop and not deal with the commute, he’d be right at home with you and Jisoo when he was done. 

It was hard to keep her occupied, she was so excited and she knew she had presents to open, and you were trying to not only prepare her favorite dinner but also make cupcakes for her. There was so much to do, and you were doing it all on your own so that Ji could work. You were one person, you only had 2 eyes, although a lot of people joke and say that mothers have eyes on the backs of their heads, it seemed like those eyes were focused on the timer on the oven to make sure the cupcakes didn’t burn. That’s why you didn’t realize that she had, at some point, strolled into Jisungs makeshift office/studio. 

“Daddy.” She said, standing right beside him, tugging on the sleeve of his hoodie to try to get his attention. Her smile was wide, two little dimples adorning both of her cheeks as she looked up at him with the brightest eyes. He sighed harshly through his nose, pulling out one of his earphones to look down at her. “You coming now?” She was completely oblivious to the glare that her father was wearing, or at least, she was oblivious to the fact that it was directed entirely towards her. 

“I’m really busy right now, go bother your mother or something.” He mumbled, shaking his head as he tried to turn his attention back to his computer, but Jisoo wasn’t going to allow it. She tugged on his sleeve again, her mouth open to say something else, but Jisung spoke before she could. “Get out. You’re such a burden sometimes, Jesus Christ!” He seethed, his head falling back as he let out a loud groan. 

Jisoo wasn’t oblivious anymore, no, she was heartbroken, and quite honestly confused. She quickly scurried away from him, sniffling softly as she ran out of the room. Neither you or Jisung had ever yelled at her, let alone raised your voices around her. She was shocked, she was devastated, and she immediately ran to you. 

“What’s wrong, honey?” You dropped everything you had been doing to scoop her up and set her on the counter top, working quickly to wipe away the tears that poured down her puffy little cheeks. Your immediate worry was that she had hurt herself, your eyes scanning over her head, her face, her arms, and her legs to look for any visible signs of scrapes or bruises, but there were none. “Did you get a booboo?” 

Her head shook quickly, her hair whipping around her face as she did before dropping her head. She looked embarrassed, and if she had known the word and what it meant at her age, she’d tell you that that’s exactly how she felt. “I try to tell Daddy that it my birthday…” She started, her sentences broken up by shaky breaths and loud sniffles. “He yell at me… told me get out… He say I a bird hen… I not even know what that means…” 

She might not know what it meant, but you sure as hell knew what he meant, and you were pissed. “You’re not a bird hen, honey. You’re wonderful, and I know that daddy didn’t mean to yell. He just gets lost in his computer sometimes. He loves you though, and mommy loves you too.” You pressed a big, wet kiss to her forehead, trying and succeeding in getting her to giggle so that you could get her mind off of being upset. “How about you go play with your dolls in your room so that I can decorate your cupcakes and they’ll be a surprise. How’s that sound, huh?”

Jisoos smile was back once more, her hands clapping together as you helped her off the counter. You watched her run to her room, her door being shut fast, and rather loud, in her hurry to let you start on her surprise. Truth be told, you just didn’t want her to listen to you talking to Jisung, not just because you didn’t want her to think about it again, but also because the language you were planning on using wasn’t going to be kid friendly at all. 

It took everything in you not to just storm into the room and start yelling, but you knew that would draw her attention, so you walked in as calmly as possible, even though it felt like your blood was boiling. He only made things worse for himself when he let out a sound of annoyance, yanking his earphones out and slamming his hands on his desk. “Oh my god! Wh-” 

“You shut the fuck up and you listen to me you son of a bitch.” You hissed the words through clenched teeth, taking one look behind yourself to make sure Jisoo hadn’t come out of her room before storming over to him, your finger pointed and only an inch from his face. “If you ever make my baby cry like that again, I will personally pack all your shit up and throw you out of this fucking house, you hear me?” 

The momentary shock wore off almost instantly, and he was quickly defensive, although he did back away just a little before he spoke. “You knew I was working. I thought you were going to watch her, but I guess I was wrong about that. I should have just gone into the office today, I would be able to get shit done.” 

The fire that was burning inside you, pure rage that had your blood bubbling, it was like it had built up to the top of your body, completely blinding you with rage and all you could see was red as you slammed his laptop shut before picking it up and shoving it against his chest. “Then go to the fucking office, Jisung! Nobody wants you here anyway!” You shouted, your chest rising and falling heavily with each breath that you took. 

“Fine! I’ll be able to actually get something done! Don’t expect me to come home tonight either, I’m not gonna get yelled at because I’m trying to do my job so I can afford everything that you and Jisoo want!” He yelled right back at you, pushing himself up out of the desk chair and grabbing the rest of his things off of the desk. There had never been a time, up until now, that you had ever wanted to hit him, but your hands were twitching, your entire body was shaking. You wanted to hurt him, not because of the way he was talking to you though, it was the complete sense of disregard that he had for his own daughter. It made you physically sick. 

“I don’t want you to come back tonight. I don’t want you to come back at all. But you will go tell your daughter that you’re not going to be here to celebrate her birthday with her, and you’re going to be honest and tell her that your job is once again more important than her.” You hissed, finally taking a step back before motioning to the door with your hand. “Now get the fuck out.” He didn’t move though, he was completely frozen and all of the color drained from his face. 

“Fuck… Baby, listen-” 

“I said get out! Go! Do your job! Leave!” You were shouting once again, and you hated that you cried when you got angry, it made you feel weak, especially when your voice would crack and break when you were trying to sound strong. He continued to stand there though, looking absolutely defeated. “Please… Just leave… It’s obvious, work will always be more important to you. It’s like deja vu.” 

“That’s not true at-” 

“Mommy…” Jisoos voice came from behind you, and you quickly turned around to face her, trying to force yourself to smile. She wasn’t blind though, she could see that you were crying, and she had heard you and Jisung arguing. She quickly ran to you, her little arms wrapping around your waist. “Don’t cry… It okay. We have cupcakes… I help you make them and… And you help me blow the candles.” 

You nodded your head as you picked her up, holding her tightly against your chest. There was nothing more comforting than the hug of your own child, to know that they care, and even on a day that should have been all her own, she was still looking out for you. 

“We’ll have lots of fun.” You agreed, your throat tightening up and almost choking off your words. “When we finish making the cupcakes and after we eat your yummy dinner, you can open your presents.” It was so hard to look, let alone sound like everything was completely fine, especially when Jisung was still standing there in front of you, like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Does… Does daddy still have to do work?” Jisoo asked, glancing up at you and then looking over her shoulder at Jisung. Of course you wanted to say yes, you were absolutely livid, you wanted him out of the house at least long enough for you to have the chance to cool down, but you also didn’t want to send him away, especially if Jisoo still wanted him there. “I sorry I a bird hen, I not come in no more when you working.” With every word that she said, Jisung looked more and more ashamed, his head dropping lower and lower until you couldn’t even see his face anymore. “Please… Stay home. It my birthday… We gonna sing the song… And we eat cupcakes. That make everyone happy.” 

Regardless of how you felt, how pissed off you truly were, it was Jisoos birthday, and if she wanted her father there, you weren’t going to still make him leave. Jisung knew this, and while it was a small win that his daughter still wanted him around, he also knew that he had a lot of apologizing to do, not just to Jisoo, but to you as well. “You’re not a bird hen, honey pot.” He murmured, squatting down so that he’d be eye level with her. “I’m a big ol’ dummy head and I’m sorry that I made you sad. Can I have a hug?” His arms stretched out as he asked the question, and as if he hadn’t hurt her feelings at all, she ran into his arms, almost knocking him onto his butt in the process. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m gonna help momma make sure you have the best birthday ever, okay?” 

He was really trying his best, he helped you and Jisoo decorate the cupcakes, he even attempted to help you finish making dinner. There was tension there between the two of you, words that had gone unsaid due to Jisoos perfectly timed interruption, but she was none the wiser to the feeling, she was just happy that the both of you were still there to celebrate with her. That’s what was most important anyway, making sure your daughter was happy. 

“Hey honey, you wanna see something funny?” Jisung asked, and the little nickname had both you and Jisoo giving him your attention, something that didn’t go unnoticed by him at all. His finger was covered in icing that he had swiped off one of the cupcakes at the center of the table, and he was slowly creeping over to the kitchen where you were plating up dinner for the three of you. “I think momma would look super cute if her nose was bright pink, don’t you, honey?” 

Jisoo was laughing already, clapping her hands together as she shouted out her agreement to his question. “Ji…” You warned, trying to retreat from him, but he was closing in fast and there wasn’t much room for escape. “Don’t do it…” You tried to sound stern, but your daughter's twinkling giggles had you cracking a smile, and before you knew it, you were cornered against the counter and Jisung whose finger was inches from your nose. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean it off.” He whispered, winking at you playfully, and if you weren’t still harboring irritation from the way he had acted earlier, the action would have had butterflies swarming in your stomach. “Boop!” He chimed as he wiped the icing on the tip of your nose, laughing along with Jisoo now as she ran over to look at you. 

“Momma look like a clown!” She said between fits of giggles, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with her and Jisung. You loved seeing your daughter happy, it had become your main goal in life, your number one priority, to make sure she was always happy, and if looking like a clown made her smile and laugh the way she was, then you’d dress up like a clown every day for her. 

“She’s the prettiest clown, isn’t she?” Jisung asked, and Jisoo nodded in agreement. “But we can’t have clowns at the dinner table, can we?” And the question had your daughter giggling even louder as she shook her head no. “Grab me a paper towel real quick, honey. Let me help momma clean off the clown nose.” He watched her long enough to make sure her back was turned before he cupped your cheeks, playfully licking the icing off your nose and then pressing a kiss to your lips. “I’m the biggest clown, and I’m sorry… Thank you for letting me stay… I love you so much.” It all happened extremely fast, his words being rushed out, it felt like he was going 60 miles per hour, and by the time he had finished what he had to say, Jisoo was just heading over with the paper towel sheet and your face was still scrunched up. 

“Where momma nose go?” Jisoo asked as she handed Jisung the paper towel, her head tilted curiously to the side. 

“I think it just fell off. It’s okay though. Momma is still pretty. I got the two prettiest girls in the world in my house, I’m a lucky guy!” Jisung cheered, and it was painfully obvious that he was doing his best to suck up to you, and it sucked that it was working so well. It was impossible to stay mad at him. That didn’t mean that you weren’t still slightly upset though. You wanted… No, you needed to talk to him. 

///

By the end of the night, which lasted longer than any other night, you were exhausted and the argument from earlier had practically been forgotten, at least for now. Jisoo had opened all of her presents, and, even though you and Jisung had promised her that she could play with them in the morning, she had given her best puppy dog eyes and ended up playing with each of her presents for half an hour each, and of course Jisung had gone overboard in buying her gifts. 

“Are you coming to bed?” You asked, standing in the doorframe to the bedroom, looking down the hall and into the living room where Jisung was sitting in the armchair, his face hidden in his hands. “What’s wrong?” You knew he hadn’t fallen asleep that quick, he had just carried Jisoo into her bed after she had fallen asleep in the middle of her brand new toy pile. 

“She’s going to remember that I yelled at her, she’s going to remember what I said to her for the rest of her life. Deep down, she’s gonna hate me… And I know that you hate me too. I hate me… I can’t believe I said that to her. I was so focused on the computer and… I flipped out on you. I didn’t even deserve to be here with either of you today after what I did… I’m a shitty father and a horrible husband.” He rubbed his hands over his face when he finally lifted his head and you could tell that he had been crying. His eyes were puffy and his nose and his cheeks were blotchy and red. 

How long had these thoughts been eating away at him? You wondered if the way he had been acting earlier was actually him sucking up to you or if he was just trying to keep his mind from going to where it was right now. “Ji…” You whispered out his name, and even though you were beyond tired at this point, you couldn’t just go to bed when he was like this. He might have upset Jisoo and pissed you off, but it seemed like he was more angry at himself than both you and Jisoo combined. “Nobody hates you, I could never hate you, and neither could Jisoo. What you did today was fucked up… But I already yelled at you for it, hell, I almost kicked you out for it. But I don’t hate you. I love you too much, and so does your daughter.” 

“I hurt her… I made her cry, Y/N. What kind of father am I?” 

“You’re the best father a child could ever ask for.” His eyebrows lowered with confusion at your answer, his bottom lip in a seemingly permanent pout as he looked at you. “You made her cry once in her five years of being on this earth. One time, Ji. But you know what you do more than anything else? You make her laugh, you make her smile, you make her feel loved… And you do all of those things for me too. Me and Jisoo are the luckiest girls in the world because we have you.” His pout slowly started to go away, turning into a slight smile as you made your way over to where he was sitting and you dropped down onto his lap. His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him as he nuzzled his face against your back. “Plus, if it makes you feel any better… I’ve made her cry about ten times this week already.” 

Jisungs mouth fell open in shock, the entire upper half of his body leaning over so he could look at you. “What?! What did you do to hurt my baby girl?” He asked, and you were sure that right now he was mocking the way you had yelled at him earlier, but you could also see that he was interested in the cause of you making his daughter cry. 

“Whenever we go grocery shopping, she asks to go down the toy aisle to look at the toys… And then she ends up wanting everything that she sees, and I have to tell her no. So she cries, and this week especially, I told her that she’ll be getting a whole bunch of new toys, but… You know how she is.” He nodded his head understandingly. “And then… She tells me that whenever she goes shopping with you, that you get her everything she wants.” You turned your head to face him, and now he was wearing a sheepish grin, his eyes looking everywhere but at you. You laughed lightly, squishing his cheeks between your palms and pressing a kiss to his puckered lips. “Do you feel better now?” He nodded quickly, his eyes sparkling in the low light of the living room. “Good, because I’m so tired and I can’t fall asleep without you next to me. Let’s go.” 

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[elixirfromthestars]

On Days Like This

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (established relationship)

Summary: The comforts of sick days with your boyfriend Matt.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warning(s): fluff / descriptions of mild sickness / sick + comfort

requested by anonymous

a/n: hello! i'm jumping between wips and i was able to finish this bingo request 💖 originally it was just going to be the first part, but then I got carried away 🤭✨ as always feedback is appreciated! and my writing challenge is still on going 💗

birthday bingo masterlist ♡ // main masterlist ♡

When He's Sick

“ Matt, don’t even think about it,” you warn as he reaches for the armrest of the couch. You know what he’s about to do and you refuse to let him do it. You’re not letting him move a muscle while he’s sick. 

“ I got it,” you add, rushing to the front door and answering the knock that rang throughout his apartment seconds earlier. Matt grumbles something under his breath as he sinks back onto the couch—a resigned sigh leaving his lips. 

Your boyfriend gets a little grumpy when he’s sick. He relies on his senses to see and it’s hard to do that when he can’t breathe out of his nose and has a constant ringing in his ears. The delirium of his ongoing fever further muddied his brain. The clouding of his senses was overwhelming to say the least and you were trying your best to help remedy that. 

You open the door and grab the items you instacarted to make him some homemade chicken noodle soup. You make your way back to the kitchen where you take the items out and start preparing the meal.

You peak out into the living room. Your boyfriend resembles a child all snuggled up into the blue cotton blanket you draped over him earlier. The slight hum of the television in the background casting a light glow onto him. 

He won’t admit it now, but he secretly loves being taken care of. Its not a feeling he’s used to, but when it comes to you he welcomes it. 

When you’re done preparing the ingredients, you pour them all into a pot to simmer. You wash your hands thoroughly and then make your way over to your boyfriend. Its time to take his temperature again.

“ Hey, how are you feeling?” You ask, your tone filled with a gentle worry. You lower to your knees to be eye level with him.

“ Like my head’s going to explode,” he groans quietly. You give him a weary smile, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead. You’ve done this so many times you can’t tell if his fevers gone down or not. 

“ Open up,” you request as you inch the tip of the thermometer to his lips. He does as told and you take his temperature. 

“ One hundred and two. Looks like that medicine is starting to kick in. You were at one o’three earlier,” you say, slightly optimistic. This does nothing to cheer your boyfriend up as he’s still in his sickly haze.

You kiss your fingers and then press it onto his lips,“ Soup will be ready soon. I promise it’ll make you feel better,” your voice brings him a comfort he direly needs. Coupled that with the indirect kiss and the way you’re brushing away the strands of sweaty hair from his face—he’s in heaven. 

“ Thanks, baby,” he manages to croak out. You brush another strand from his face and he leans into your touch. “ No need to thank me. I’m here for you,” you reply with a soft sincerity. 

Damn the medicine and the soup. All he needs is you. 

After about another forty minutes the soup is done and served in a bowl. You let it cool down a bit before heading over to the couch, setting the bowl down on the coffee table. Matt can faintly pick up the savory aroma in the air and he gently sits up. He intends to reach out to grab the bowl until you swat his hands away lightly. 

“ No. I got it. You focus on getting better. I’ll do the rest,” there’s a slight pout on his lips as you say this. You’re tempted to kiss it away, but you stop yourself. The last thing either of you needed was for you to get sick too.

You blow on the soup a bit before serving him the first spoonful. The warmth spreads throughout his body blanketing him better than anything else did. 

You were right. The soup did make him feel better.

When You're Sick

A content sigh escapes you as Matt massages the lavender scented shampoo into your scalp. His fingers are delicate, but working with purpose as he lathers every strand. Your body was already melting into the bath, but with the way his hands were working—you’d soon melt into him. 

There wasn’t a strand of hair left untouched by him. He gave every bit of it his full attention. Wanting to make sure he was doing things right. He had never done this for anyone before. 

The bath was Matt’s idea and his doing. When you came down with the flu and complained about your achy muscles and congested sinuses—he knew just what to do. 

Well, more like the internet told him what to do and what products to buy.

His every touch was gentle and soothing. The scent of lavender was calming to your senses so he left it in your hair to settle for just a bit while he worked on lathering a rosemary scented body wash into your skin. His fingers work in slow circular motions, applying just the right amount of pressure to pacify the ache. 

“ How’s that?” he asks, fingers gliding over your back as his circular motions continue.

Now you were completely melting into his touch, “ Perfect. That seriously helps so much,” you reply a little breathless, your eyes closing to focus on the feeling. 

Matt grinned, pleased that he was able to help you. He loves taking care of you as much as you take care of him. Being the one you can lean on, on days like this, means everything to him.

When You're Both Sick

“ Come here,” Matt’s quiet voice rings out in his dark bedroom. The slightest sliver of moonlight coming from his window. His arms are outstretched in your direction as you make your way into the covers. 

You sniffle briefly as you snuggle into his side, his arms enveloping you immediately. You clear your throat to hold back a nasty cough that is trying to fight its way out of you. 

Your bodies tangle under the blanket, trying to calm the chills that run through both of you. Matt’s head rests delicately on your head as your face nestles into the crook of his neck. 

The cold medicine starts to take effect as your eyelids get heavier. Matt’s breathing has relaxed signaling to you he’s on the verge of falling asleep too. 

“ Goodnight,” you whisper, tilting your head to plant a soft kiss to his jaw. 

“ Goodnight,” he whispers back, planting a loving kiss to the top of your head, pulling you impossibly closer to him. 

You fall asleep just like that.

[denileisariver]

pairing: batman aka bruce wayne x f!reader

summary: you move into wayne manor, but not everything is as it seems.

warnings: dark!bruce, established relationships, male and female masturbation, descriptions of male and female genitalia, voyeurism, another age gap fic cuz i love dilf!bruce, reader is described as a vigilante and being dicks friend, some non-consensual touching kinda, no piv unfortunately :(, reader is also described as having hair long enough to pull, one tiny use of the word 'baby', size kink if you squint, some overall darkish batfam? not rlly but I'll tag them as yandere anyway.

a/n: tbh i jus pulled this outta nowhere and have no idea where this might lead but fuck it we ball.

you had no idea what you'd gotten yourself into.

your new life at wayne manor was fast-paced and quite absurd. the transition from living in a cramped dorm with one girl to an ancient mansion with a bunch of other heroes whose lives you could barely keep up with hit you like a ton of bricks, it gave you whiplash.

you'd been friends with dick grayson ever since the two of you were teenagers. he was always someone you could easily bond with. whether it was about school, relationships, or being a vigilante the majority of the short time the both of you had been on this earth, he was always there for you. he was your best friend.

you never really had anyone you would consider family. orphaned at such a young age, you grew up to be cautious of other people, always wary that they would abandon you or find ways to exploit you.

at the beginning of your friendship with dick, you had honestly been quite jealous of the older male. you knew it was a bit selfish, but you couldn't help it. there was always a small part of you that despised him for being taken in by a wealthy man who could support him at his every whim, his newfound family that seemed to only grow bigger and bigger each time you saw him. how despite all the terrible things he had been through, he managed to find happiness, or at least content in his life.

and you wanted that, too.

but you always buried those feelings deep down. it wasn't his fault, and you couldn't blame him for it either, so you pretended it was never there in the first place. instead, you put on a brave face. it wasn't too difficult, and for some short moments, you did truly believe that you were happy, regardless of how out of place you felt sometimes around dick and his brothers and sisters.

brothers and sisters. those words were so foreign to you, that when you looked over the relationships you had with dick and his family, you almost had a sort of epiphany. none of them were blood related at all, but they went through thick and thin together no matter what. and a small part of you hoped, wished, that maybe you could be apart of that too.

maybe it was all just irrational.

dick and you had spent a lot of time together. at school, at the justice league headquarters, fighting side by side at unholy hours of the night, or just casual hangouts. you knew him well enough to catch that subtle look in his eyes whenever he looked at you. pity. it was there whenever he brought up what parties bruce was throwing for one of the kids' birthdays, or how tim and jason got into another petty fight that he had to resolve, damian getting awards at school that the family had to attend.

all experiences and problems that you never had, and probably never would. at least, that's what you thought, up until now.

"why don't you come stay wayne manor?"

at first, the question caught you off guard. sure, you spent countless of sleepovers at the place, and you'd known a decent amount about it to get around by yourself with ease, but still. you never considered the possibility of actually staying there. and by the look on dick's face, he seems to notice that too. "i meant- if you want. i just know how lonely it can be for you sometimes, and it would just be easier for us, y'know with our nighttime activities and-"

your eyes roll at his quick rambling, internally cringing a bit at the prospect of him mentioning you being fucking lonely. you flash him a weak smile, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

"sheesh, dick, thanks." you don't mean to sound so harsh, but it's difficult when all of this is so personal to you.

"i didn't mean it like that. and it's no big deal, really. we have plenty of space, and im sure bruce won't mind. maybe alfred, since he has to pick up after your ass but-" dick continues, shrugging it off like it really didn't mean anything. like he wasn't asking you to pack up your shit and move in with him and his family. "you're always welcome there."

and at that, your heart softens a bit. of course, you knew that, but even when you stayed over for a weekend or two, you never wanted to feel like you were overstaying. "i'll think about it, dick."

and you did. you thought about it quite a lot actually, even before dick had asked you that ludicrous question. and he was right. it would make things easier. you'd have a stable roof over your head, instead of the cracked ones that leaked like your dormatory back in gotham. you'd be able to spend more time with the people you cared about. you'd have people that cared about you too, look after you, and defend you if needed. it couldn't be that bad, right?

that's how you ended up here.

in a room that was bigger than all the shitty squats you lived since you were a kid combined. there was so much space you didn't know what to do with it. but the rowdiness of the boys and girls outside your door brought a smile to your face. life at wayne manor would call for some serious adjustment, but you felt like you could power through it. plus, it was only a bonus that you'd always thought jason was cute, much to dick's disgust.

the first couple of weeks staying here were honestly going great, much to your surprise. the family had welcomed you with open arms, some of them not even batting an eye when you regularly attended dinner with them, or walked around in your pajamas, or were quick to be in the cave once it was time for patrol. like you were supposed to be there all along.

your friendship with dick was more of the same, only now you lived with him. jason and you had gotten closer, but you didn't trust calling whatever feelings you had for him enough to call it a crush. you didn't always understand whatever nerd stuff tim would ramble about, but you listened to him anways. you appreciated how much stephanie and cass involved you into their movie nights and gossiping. well more you and stephanie gossiping than cass, but it still felt like you had the girl best friends you had always craved for. damian took some time to warm up to you, but you could still bond with him over his art and love for animals. alfred loved you already, so there wasn't much there to add. and then there was bruce.

you couldn't quite place your finger on bruce. even when you were younger, his stoicism and broodiness was something you couldn't get past, only in rare moments. there was always something about him that you found off-putting. granted that he was always kind, if that's even the right word for it, he never made you feel unwelcome, but you always felt uneasy around the man.

maybe it was how he seemed to be able to read you like an open book, how he could disappear in a room full of people, how he never quite matched the energy in the room, his incessant staring. god, you hated how much he stared at you. bruce's gaze made you feel small, when you usually were confident and assured of yourself. you could feel his eyes burning into you across the room, and you didn't know how to say anything about it or do much for that matter besides distract yourself.

you thought that by now you'd be able to get over whatever it was about him, that you'd known bruce long enough that you could just play it off as him being strange in his own way, but those feelings had only intensified ever since you moved into the mansion.

chills would run down your spine whenever he'd place a heavy hand on your waist, seemingly as casual touch, but it always lingered too long. held on too tight. this look in his eyes, but you couldn't tell what it was. you had brought it up briefly to dick, but he didn't think much of it, laughing it off, saying something along the lines that's just bruce, you'll get used to it.

but you didn't. you couldn't.

especially now that bruce was inviting you to spar with him. to make sure you're prepared, he said. prepared for what exactly, you're not so sure. but you reluctantly agreed, trying to see it as something useful and educational that you could actually use while fighting against whatever villain of the day thought about creating mayhem in gotham.

bruce was strong and brutish compared to you. every time you tried to throw your best at him, he always managed to get the upper hand, and you'd be flat on the sparring mat in a matter of seconds. it had almost seemed like childsplay to him, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think that maybe deep down a part of him enjoyed it.

he'd roughly grab and contort your body in uncomfortable positions, to test your flexibility, as he so called it. your hair would be pulled unforgivingly, and he'd place his weight on top of you, telling you to try and escape from him, much to your avail. you felt like he was taunting you, "you think those criminals in gotham are gonna be easy on you like i am?"

it didn't fucking feel like he was going easy. bruce would place his hand on your neck and choke you out till you were clawing at his skin, only letting go if you tried to beg or actually managed to use your own skill to get him to stop, but that had only happened once and never again. and when you writhed and struggled in his bruising hold, you'd notice that damn look in his eyes again.

no, this wasn't normal sparring.

you'd seen him spar with the other boys and girls, and it had never been like this. and although he was still ruthless, he'd given them actual advice. advice that you'd seen them use out in the field on multiple occasions.

you'd been wandering around gotham long enough to know when someone had it out for you. whether it was sex, crime, or something else, you knew that distinct look in a persons eyes.

a predator hunting down prey.

☆☆☆☆☆

you tried to wash off whatever the hell that was with bruce down the drain. everytime the eery thought of him having less than good intentions for you came up, you pushed it away. whether it was out of guilt for even thinking of him in that way, cause he saved so many people each night without expecting anything in return, or because he was your best friends father, and no he'd never hurt you. that's just unreasonable.

the whole situation just made your head hurt. maybe it's just an overreaction. dick said that whatever this behavior was is normal of bruce. and so you foolishly continue to believe it.

you search your drawers for a fresh pair of panties, too tired to realize that some of your favorite pairs had gone missing. the room, which you personalized after your couple of weeks here, feels suddenly strange to sleep by yourself in.

when you first moved in, you slept like a baby. you felt safe, like this was a normal thing because you'd slept well in these walls ever since your sleepovers with dick. now, it just felt like something was watching you. a feeling that sometimes left goosebumps on your skin, and you couldn't understand what it was.

there's bruises on your skin from how tightly bruce held onto you. some as big as the shape of his hands on your wrists, and as small as the tips of his fingers on your neck. you're completely oblivious to the camera that's watching you closely, placed strategically so you'd never find it. you're oblivious to the man whose behind them.

even if you had just taken a shower, you decide to get yourself dirty again, in other ways. your favorite thing to relieve stress. playtime. so you trace your fingertips down your body with a feather-light touch, gently tweaking and rolling your fingers between your nipples to get yourself excited. you allow your mind to go blank for a while.

you have no idea that bruce's breathing only gets heavier when he realizes what you're about to do. don't know how his cock is hardening beneath his joggers when you push your panties to the side, gathering up your slick and finding your clit to pleasure yourself. don't know that he's stroking himself too, between the layers of his pants and boxers, with your panties in his hand.

how he wishes there was better light in the darkness of your room, so he could get a better look at your glistening pussy, and swearing to himself that he'll get a good look at it upclose one day. he matches your pace, making sure he only gets to cum at the same time you do.

you seem frustrated. he thinks that maybe he can fix that for you. you lick at your middle and index finger, using your own saliva as lubricant, teasing yourself by slowly rubbing along your wet folds. torturing him. the soft pads of your fingers find your clit, setting a medium-slow pace. and bruce tries his best to mimick your actions. pulling himself out of the constraints of his clothes, teasing the fat mushroom head of his cock, gliding a thumb over the tiny slit where his pre-cum dripped out of him, then moving it down his shaft to gently pump it with his hand.

and when your fingers pick up the pace, so do his hands. his eyes intently watch the screen before him, admiring the way your body arches up off the bed, head pushing into the pillows. your chest heaves a bit, and by the way you're biting on your bottom lip, he can tell you're struggling to be quiet. he doesn't want you be, but he'll take what he can get, for now.

your hips writhe a bit, almost like you wanted to fuck back at your fingers, desperately needing something thicker than your petite hands. you move both hands down to your cunt, so you can play with your clit and finger fuck yourself at the same time, and the action makes your pussy cry at the attention.

bruces muscles flex with each jerk of his hand, his free hand going down to gently cup his balls. his eyes hone in on your tiny digits, moving in and out of your cunt with one sole purpose, your juices creating a filthy sound that's like heaven to bruce's ears. he wants to be there so he could get a taste of that sweet pussy, but he suffices with your panties in his mouth, biting down on the fabric.

he could see the markings he left on your delicate skin in the moonlight that peeks into your room, possessiveness coursing through him. he feels pathetic for even doing this, but he can't help himself. bruce's cock twitches in his hand at the sight, knowing your orgasm was coming quickly by how sloppy and rushed your movements were becoming.

it's been so long since you've touched yourself. too long in fact, that your cunt spasms and gushes, completely soaking your hands and the sheets beneath you in the process. and bruce allows himself to cum too, his cock jumping a bit with every rope of the sticky substance, covering his happy trail and abs.

you seem too tired to care that you're laying in your own pussy juice, darkening the fabric below. bruce's eyes are soft, watching you roll over on your side, not even bothering to clean up afterwards. that was a tomorrow's problem.

bruce makes sure to save the precious evidence that the camera caught, knowing it'll be hidden away for his eyes only. he watches you fall asleep in your own mess till his cock begins to soften, placing himself back into his boxers.

he knows you pretty well, he'd like to think. knows you well enough that if you knew what he'd just done, you'd probably slap him across the face. another part of him hopes it turns you on just as much as it turns him on, but maybe that's just him feeding into his delusion. he trails his eyes over your sleeping form just one more time, a small goodnight baby whispered from his lips, even if you can't hear him.

he shuts off the computer for the night, hoping that he'll soon be lucky enough to watch you touch yourself again tomorrow. or maybe even get to fuck you. soon. really fucking soon.

he'll have to remind himself to be a bit grateful for dick inviting you to stay here, in his home. bruce hadn't been too proud when he suggested it to dick, bringing up that you'd easily accept to their request of moving into wayne manor. and he was right.

if dick or anyone else was suspicious about what bruce was doing, or planned on doing, he wasn't too worried of it. he also knew his adopted children well enough that they wouldn't tell on him, and loved you too much to allow you to leave, and for that, he was also grateful.

he had you right where he wanted you, and he'd give you a really hard time if you even thought about leaving now.

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part 17

Pairing: Spider-Man!Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader Summary: Miguel has been distant lately and you don't know why. Word Count: 23.9k Warnings: distant Miguel; he displays similar behaviors from the beginning of the fic, no sleeping and skipping meals; tones/mentions of death; small moment in which reader misunderstands Miguel's words and thinks he means something else (him wanting to be gone permanently); lots of fluff memories; both Miguel and you cry; lyrics for some of the songs (two) will be sprinkled in the dialogue, I tried my best to translate for one, while for the other one you can search it up. You may already know the meaning behind it since I think most of Miguel nation knows this one song already. I think that's it. If you find something else, pls let me know :) Music (Spotify playlist): "rises the moon (piano version)" - goated. "Baila Esta Cumbia" - Selena "Las Mañanitas" - Vicente Fernández (birthday song for Mexicans, at least) "someday i'll get it" - Alek Olsen "pluto projector (melody)" - emptiness "En Familia" - Carlo Siliotto (unfortunately this song isn't on Spotify, but it was one of the two main songs for this chapter. You may find it on YT here) "Luna de Xelajú" - Gaby Moreno, Oscar Isaac (yes, we're bringing it back and you better have tissues ready 🤧) "Jacob and The Stone" - Emile Mosseri Masterlist (where you can find all my other fics, but most importantly, all fanart for NC 🥹) Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoy!! 🫶🏼❤️

Part 17

The sight of sunlight streaming through the holographic blinds of your bedroom meets your eyes when you first wake up. Yawning, you stretch beneath the sheets, slowly waking up. You roll over on your side with a sigh, staring at the little pockets of sunshine on the floor.

The warmth under the covers keeps you there, anchored to the bed for a few more minutes until you finally decide to get out of bed to start the day. You slip on both gizmos; the one everyone has available to them and the new one Miguel gave you to test for him, removing the wristband you wear around the penthouse due to comfort and to avoid glitching since you’re not in your universe.

Trying not to think about something, or rather someone, you make your bed and get ready for the day. It’s only when you’re done with your bathroom routine that you decide to find out.

“Lyla?” you say.

“Hey - morning,” she says popping through your gizmo.

“Morning… Is Miguel…” you trail off.

“He’s already at HQ, yes,” she replies, fixing her glasses. “He left two hours ago.”

“Thanks.” With a frown, you make your way downstairs. You only check the kitchen out of curiosity, not because you’re particularly hungry. Knowing Miguel is already gone has decreased your appetite. Sure enough, you find a note on the counter from him, stating that he’s going to HQ. With a sigh, you slip out of the penthouse and head to your universe for your usual morning patrol, feeling down about the situation.

The problem is… Today is not the first day Miguel has gone to HQ so early. He’s been leaving the penthouse as early as 5am, unlike the past weeks and months since you’ve been living with him. Typically, the two of you leave together around the same time you’ve left the place today. You have coffee and sometimes even cook a full breakfast, but it hasn’t been like that for a few days.

You eventually arrive to HQ after your patrol, still feeling a heaviness around you. You do your tasks such as working on the weekly report, going on missions, and helping other spider members when and where it’s needed until it’s time for you to head to Miguel’s lab for your weekly organizing.

It’s still something you enjoy doing, especially even more now that Miguel is so much more open than when you first started organizing his lab two years ago. Even if you’re not conversing, the simple enjoyment of being in each other’s presence is satisfying to the two of you.

You look down at the boxes with food from the cafeteria and the drink carrier in your hands as you head there. You’re certain Miguel hasn’t had anything to eat, except maybe a coffee, if even that, so you’ve decided to get him something. Of course, being lunch time, you got him his favorite meal from the cafeteria: empanadas and other sides, along with a water and a coffee.

As expected, he thanks you with a small smile, but it’s one that doesn’t reach his eyes these days. You both eat in silence before you begin to work. As always, you make your rounds and check each surface, seeing what all there is to organize before you actually begin. You do this quietly, noticing that Miguel is too quiet. In fact, he’s been so much quieter the last few days, as if something has been weighting on his mind. Deeply. Terribly.

You’ve found him staring off into his screens several times over the last few days, his crimson eyes unblinking and focused on nothing in particular, lost in whatever has been plaguing his thoughts these days.

His smiles are distant and sad. He’s been unable to give you a true, genuine smile.

To everyone else, it may seem like a normal thing. Maybe they haven’t even noticed it, but you know better.

He’s far too quiet when cooking. His gaze is unfocused when he’s reading in the afternoons. He’s sought more solitude recently, heading upstairs to his room after dinner, and has been working out every day in the private gym in the penthouse building for several hours at a time.

You dared asked him yesterday if something was wrong, in a far more subtle way, of course.

“I’m alright, just tired,” he replied blinking back into focus, raising his hand to move screens around. He was back to working, or well, actually working since he was zoning out before you talked to him.

You continue to work silently now, taking note of the fact that even Lyla doesn’t chat with you like she normally does. She pops in and out, doing her tasks without any banter.

With a heavy feeling, you glance at Miguel. He’s on his platform, his back to you. Your eyes trace his broad shoulders, the tense stance.

Those shoulders.

They’ve carried too much for far too long.

What is plaguing his mind as of now? You can only wonder to yourself.

You carry on with your tasks, giving Miguel his time. You hope he’ll feel comfortable enough to share with you what’s been on his mind soon, or at least that his mood will improve because his recent disposition has reminded you of the early days when you first started organizing the lab. And, the truth is, that that worries and saddens you. It almost sends little alarms to your head about the possibility of maybe… Losing him.

You shake your head, trying to get rid of those thoughts. You don’t want to think about that possibility. The possibility of him taking a step back and deciding to shut everyone out again.

Including you.

But surely, that’s not it. Right?

You’ve thought about it the last few days. Did you do or said something that made him upset? Is there a chance that you did and he doesn’t want to bring it up to avoid hurting your feelings? You even wonder if maybe he’s… In need of space from you. Maybe having you around too much has become stressful, even suffocating. You debate that specifically, having no other explanation for his current behavior.

You’ve both tried to give each other space while at the penthouse, so it’s not like you spend every hour together in the evenings. During the days, you’re off doing other things either at HQ or at your universe. Yet, you still wonder if you being in his personal space, in his home, has become too much for him. Maybe you’ve pushed his boundaries, those you always try to respect, without even realizing it.

With a frown and a bad feeling in your chest, one you’ve carried with you over the last few days, you continue to work wordlessly until you’re done. You decide to leave the lab afterwards and give Miguel space, thinking maybe he truly needs a break from you.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur. Miguel stays a few more hours at HQ than he usually does these days. When he gets home, he reheats his own dinner, even though you offer to do it for him, a gesture he politely declines. In previous days, you talked with him for a bit. You’ve told him about your day, back in your universe when you’re off to do patrols, which you’ve continued to do. Just because you’re living in Miguel’s universe for the moment, doesn’t mean you’ve abandoned your dimension nor left your city defenseless.

You know you have Miguel’s technology to help connect with your two-way radio in case of emergencies, but even then, you like to do patrols. It was your promise to Peter, your Peter, after all. To keep your city safe, so you do.

You patrol your city, witnessing all sorts of things. One thing you’ve definitely learned from being Spider-Woman is that people do strange, funny, and sometimes even wholesome things when they believe no one is watching. If only they knew Spider-Woman is often watching from some rooftop.

It’s these stories you’ve told Miguel, in hopes of bringing some light to those sad eyes. You’ve succeeded but only during those short moments of time.

Whatever is on his mind takes the happiness out of them and his heart.

Today, instead of talking to him, you opt to remain silent as you clean the kitchen to at least give him company. Not long after, he excuses himself after washing his dishes, heading to his bedroom. Once you’re done cleaning the kitchen, you decide to lounge in your room, or Gabriel’s rather.

The penthouse is, once more, silent this evening, and for the first time, you feel an emptiness from it.

With a sigh, you stare out the window. The sight of the sun setting reminds you of Father’s Day and how you both sat on the rooftop that evening, enjoying the view before the sun dipped below the horizon, giving you a memory you’ll forever remember.

You touch your elbow, recalling how you ended up hurting yourself that evening in an attempt to hide the gifts you got for Miguel. Of course, it’s healed now like other injuries have in the past regardless of how big or small, physical or emotional.

Time heals all.

Usually.

You turn towards the closet where you hit yourself that day. Before you know it, you’ve opened the door and stare at the top of it. Your eyes find Peter’s box with all of his belongings, the same one you haven’t opened since you packed it.

And today is still not that day.

You close the door again and lean back on it, the sunset filtering through the window. Silently, you wonder if Miguel is watching it, too, from his own room.

You almost wish you could send him a message, but that would be insensitive and inappropriate when he’s in such a mood.

Are you watching the sunset, too?

You scoff to yourself. Yeah, not the best time.

Isn’t it beautiful? The colors - that shade of red.

It reminds you of Miguel’s eyes.

Shaking your head at your random thought, you sit down on the chair within your room and stare at the sunset some more. You remain like that until the sun fully disappears, still thinking about him and wishing you knew what is bothering him.

It’s a few minutes after the sun sets that you stand up and do a little organizing around your room. You know you’re only trying to distract yourself from Miguel but you accept the distraction happily. It’s the only way you can stop thinking about him and wondering what’s going on, analyzing your actions and words from the last few days before his mood changed. Your organizing halts half an hour later when you hear Miguel’s bedroom door open.

You frown, knowing you’re only able to hear it because he wants you to. He always goes out of his way to make as little noise as possible in case you’re taking a nap or simply to avoid disrupting you.

You don’t hear his footsteps however. You hardly do. For a man his size, you’d think you’d hear them, but no. He’s so silent.

For a moment, you wonder if he even left his room. You foolishly hope that he’s opened the door to give you a sign, one that means he’s better and ready to interact, but your hopes are shattered when you receive the notification from your gizmo.

“I’m at the gym.” - M

A part of you wants to change into workout clothes and go to the gym just to be near him, even if you keep your distance, but no.

You recognize when someone wants space - when someone wishes to be alone.

Miguel wants that now, so, you stay put in the penthouse instead, though you can’t find it in yourself to do something relaxing such as reading a book, or watching a movie or show. You don’t engage with any of your hobbies, old or new. Instead, you slip on headphones and do chores like laundry and vacuuming the living room’s rug. You wipe the ceiling to floor windows of both the living and dining area rooms, needing no ladder thanks to your spider abilities as you listen to music.

You go through an entire album, marking an hour. You play another one, focusing on other chores like drying the dishes and placing them back where they go. You adjust the couches and fix your blanket. You dust the bookcases and Miguel’s new photographs before you sweep the living room, using some advanced broom despite having robot vacuums to take care of it.

Back at the kitchen, you wipe the counters once more and then sweep that area, too. You even venture to the other living room, the one that’s for entertaining guests, and repeat the process all over again.

You keep listening to music, the hours tick by. It’s eventually eleven and Miguel is still at the gym. You only know he’s still there because Lyla tells you so. After all the chores and restlessness, you take a shower before going to bed at last, even though you simply lay there, staring at the ceiling - alone in the penthouse.

You grow restless staring at the four walls, so you eventually get up and leave your room. You stand in the hallway of the second floor, noticing the silence and darkness. It brings a thought to mind, but one you immediately push away.

After standing there for a few minutes, you finally head downstairs. Your steps are the only sound as you reach the living room where one single lamp remains on, one that you left on for Miguel for when he comes home. You also left small lamps on in the other living room and another one in the kitchen so he can see where he’s going when he comes back.

It’s past midnight when you turn to the windows and stare out at Nueva York. You bring your hands to your arms, hugging yourself with a deep sigh.

Is Miguel even coming back to the penthouse tonight? Or, will he stay at the gym all night?

Minutes tick by as you keep your gaze on the city, waiting.

You wait, and wait. And wait.

“Lyla?” you break the silence several minutes later.

“Yeah?” Lyla appears next to you, her voice gentle to avoid startling you.

“Can you please turn off all the lights?”

At that, Lyla turns to you, a frown on her face as she processes the odd request. “Turn off the lights? Why?”

“Please,” you whisper, still hugging yourself and staring out the windows.

Despite her confusion and the urge to question and deny your request, Lyla does as you’ve asked. She turns off every single light, leaving the penthouse in utter darkness, save for some spaces that are somewhat illuminated by the outside.

You turn away from the windows and stare at the living room and the rest of the penthouse. Everything is dark. And you’re alone.

Your thought from earlier comes back as you take in your surroundings.

This is what it’s like for Miguel - what it was like back then when he lost Gabriella. All alone, sitting in darkness and silence with so many running emotions all on his own.

“This is what it was like,” you whisper.

“What was what like?” Lyla asks, still hovering near you.

“Miguel. After everything that happened with Gabriella.”

Lyla nods, now understanding what’s going on, recalling those nights. “Yes, this is what the penthouse looked and felt like on those nights - and there was something heavy that lingered in the space. I don’t like to think about those nights.”

“I understand,” you whisper, imagining what Lyla has shared.

She nods, still staring at the darkness. A frown is visible on her face. It bothers her to see you like this. “I’m turning the lights on.”

“Is Miguel still at the gym?”

“Yeah. He’s been working out, almost nonstop for hours.”

You nod. He’s been trying to distract himself with that. From what? You don’t know.

”Lyla?”

“Yes?”

“… I know I shouldn’t ask…”

“You want to know what’s happening.”

“Yes.”

Lyla sighs, or replicates doing so anyway as you turn to face her at last, still hugging yourself. She sits down and adjusts her heart shape glasses. “I’m honestly surprised Miguel hasn’t told you, but I suppose he still has some healing to do despite all the progress he’s done in the last year,” she says, staring at you. “I guess it’s why he still finds it hard to talk about her.”

Her.

“Gabriella. It’s about Gabby,” you state.

“Yes. Tomorrow…” Lyla sighs again. “Tomorrow, or well, I guess today, considering the time now, would’ve been… her birthday.”

Suddenly everything clicks into place.

Lyla watches the way your shoulders slump, the realization hitting you, and how your entire face changes to one of understanding and pain.

“Miguel,” you sigh, understanding everything now. No wonder he’s been so different lately, he’s been thinking about Gabby’s upcoming birthday for days. Probably thinking about what age she’d be turning today. Now more than earlier, you feel like going to look for him, to comfort him somehow, to be near him to offer at least your presence, but you’re reminded that Miguel doesn’t want that. At least, you don’t believe so. If he did, he’d be here in the penthouse, not at the gym alone.

“You should get some rest,” Lyla suggests. “I know that’s probably the last thing you want to do now but… Miguel would feel far more guilty if he knows he’s been keeping you up. I’m certain he already feels upset with himself for how different he’s been the last few days.”

“I don’t think I can sleep, but I know I can’t go and look for him,” you reply.

“No, that would upset him even more. He doesn’t like disturbing you, or rather worrying you.”

“Right,” you respond, even though you wish to run and find him right now. “I’ll be in my room. Please make sure those lights remain on. I don’t want him to come back to…”

“Darkness.”

You nod.

“The lights will remain on, no worries,” she reassures you. “Try to sleep a bit. I’ll keep an eye out for him, too. If something comes up, I’ll wake you up.”

Lyla “walks” you to your room, feeling the need to look after you. You’re after all, her boss’s best friend. Looking after you is her looking after Miguel, one of her integral designs.

You settle down on the bed, covering your body with the bed sheets, your mind running wild with thoughts. Lyla wishes you a good night after several minutes of her simply hanging out around the room, knowing you’re not much for conversation now that you know the reason for Miguel’s current behavior, before she flickers away.

Alone, you’re back to staring at the ceiling and the walls in an empty penthouse. It’s close to two in the morning when you hear subtle footsteps. They slow down in front of your bedroom, stopping by the door.

For a moment, you wonder if Miguel will come in, deciding to talk to you, even if he thinks he’ll have to wake you up. Instead, you hear a soft sigh before the footsteps continue, fading once Miguel enters his bedroom.

You’re not sure if Miguel gets any sleep, even though you’re tempted to ask Lyla. A part of you refuses to continue invading his privacy by having Lyla tell you what he’s up to, so you don’t. You stay up for a while, staring at the walls, tossing and turning. You eventually doze off despite wanting to remain awake, waking up at six only to be told by Lyla that Miguel has already been at HQ for an hour.

Tired, you start the day knowing what today is.

Gabby’s birthday.

As you move about the penthouse, you wonder how old she would’ve turned today. The few images you have of her pop into your mind along with the few videos Miguel has of her - almost like a movie, and one too short, like her life.

You ask Lyla what Miguel has done. Apparently, he’s been working on data since he showed up.

Downstairs, you find a sticky note on the counter. Ever since you began living with him, you started the habit of leaving him sticky notes around the place, something Miguel has begun to reciprocate. Like the previous day, he’s left you another one today.

I’m at HQ. - Miguel

You make yourself a coffee and gulp it down in a few drinks, needing the caffeine. You debate doing your morning patrol, but eventually decide to do it anyway, thinking it’ll give you time to think. Swinging around your city and watching from rooftops on your own, you question whether you should talk to Miguel, let him know that you’re aware of what today is, but you quickly change your mind.

You imagine Miguel might not be pleased to know that Lyla told you, so you decide not to say anything, at least for now. You’ll have to pretend that you don’t know the reason he’s hurting.

Back at HQ, you walk around the building and check on things, trying to distract yourself. It’s nine in the morning when you decide to grab some breakfast from the cafeteria for both Miguel and you. You’re unsure of what the day or Miguel will be like when it’s Gabby’s birthday, but you definitely know that you want to look after him, even if it’s only by making sure he’s eating properly.

With breakfast in your hands, you begin to head to the lab with hope. You’ve only taken about twenty steps when you receive a notification through your gizmo from Jess, which you quickly realize was sent to everyone.

“For all questions or concerns, direct yourself with me. Miguel is busy. Do not disturb him.” - Jess

Lowering your arm, you wonder if that message applies to you, too.

Standing in the middle of a corridor, hands occupied with food, it suddenly feels a lot like the time you entered Miguel’s lab and found him overwhelmed, upset, but more than anything, hurt at the discovery of hidden photos and videos of Gabby and his wife by Lyla. You recall the way it felt to have stepped into the lab and you wonder now if that’s what awaits for you because you quickly make up your mind.

You’re ignoring Jess’s message.

Two years ago, you would've simply oblige and made no questions. You would’ve try not to think about your boss and wonder what he did all day, wondered if anyone dropped off food for him, or if he even left the lab in his own discrete ways to eat and drink something, to nourish his body. You would've hoped that he'd at least let either Jess or Peter B. check on him.

Two years ago, you wouldn't had done it yourself nor pushed his boundaries because you were a simple member, not one of his close ones.

Two years ago, that would’ve been the end of it, even if you silently worried about Miguel from a distance.

Today? Things are different.

Two years ago Miguel and you hardly talked, hardly interacted.

Now, you're best friends, and best friends don't leave each other alone. They don't give up on you. They keep trying just like Miguel said Harry and your other former friends from a lifetime ago should’ve with you.

With a determined nod, you continue to make your way to Miguel's lab. As usual, there's other spider members walking around. You catch a few checking their gizmos, making you wonder if they’re reading Jess’s message regarding Miguel. You nod at a few, at least at those you're not too familiar with or who might be new. To those you do know and have more of a bond with, you give them a quick and simple greeting, not opening for conversation, not when you want to see Miguel already.

You turn the corner and it’s only thanks to your spidey senses going off that you don’t run into -

“Ben,” you say, recognizing him instantly.

Ben Reilly's eyebrows shoot up, surprise visible on his face. He shifts slightly. “Y/N… Hey.” He offers a smile, scratching his neck.

“Hey,” you greet him back, returning a small smile even though you're in a rush. “I'll see you around!” you say, walking around him, determined to reach your destination.

“Hey, Y/N!” Ben calls out, turning to face you quickly. “I was wondering if I could talk to you about something…?”

You turn to face him, walking backwards with both your hands occupied with the food and drinks.

“Of course. Can we talk …” you trail off. “Later? I'm in the middle of something. I'm sorry,” you apologize softly.

He sighs subtly, his shoulders slumping just barely before he fixes his excellent posture. “I understand. I'll look for you later today.”

“Alright. That sounds good. I'll see you later, Ben. Careful if you go on missions!” You offer him a quick smile before you turn away once more and hurry off, leaving Ben behind.

He sighs again, running a hand through his hair that earns him a few glances of interest from other spider members. He watches you become smaller and smaller as you retrace steps you take each day.

Everyone knows where you're going and who you're seeking: the one person they were told to not disturb today.

That person’s door is closed to them but not for a few people like Jess Drew, Peter B. Parker, and now you.

He huffs and turns away, heading to the training sector for a workout session to sweat his frustrations away. He turns for one more glance, seeing you disappear into the elevator and heading for Miguel's floor.

You reach the lab doors, wondering if you’ll be turned away. A few seconds later, relief washes over you when Lyla confirms, after asking Miguel, that you can go in.

As far as Miguel knows, you have no idea what today is, so you offer him breakfast, which he thankfully accepts. You both sit on his elevated platform and eat in silence, legs dangling from it. As you eat, you remind yourself that you agreed to saying nothing, to pretend like you don’t know. You stay true to that even though your mind is a mess, even though you want to do more than just offer Miguel food.

However, you say nothing as you eat. Even after breakfast, you reveal nothing. You don’t want Miguel to feel pressured to say anything just because you know, behind his back. No, if he says anything, you hope it’s because Miguel is ready and comfortable doing so.

So, you stick with him for a while, working silently from your own area in the lab now knowing that his behavior has nothing to do with something you may have done or said, or your mere presence as you were worrying about yesterday. At some point you leave him because you’re needed by Jess, so you do so reluctantly.

For lunch time, it’s the same with the small difference that you both make small talk. The hours tick by and when you look at your gizmo, it’s suddenly three in the afternoon. Due to Jess’s warning, no one sends Miguel messages except for Jess, nor does anyone show up to the lab. It’s just Miguel, Lyla, and you.

You yourself get a few messages from the spider gang, asking if Miguel is alright and why you’ve been hiding at his lab all day. You reassure them both Miguel and you are physically alright. You don’t know what else to say. It’s not your place to share something so sensitive and personal, especially when you’re not supposed to even know.

Standing up, you stretch quietly, remembering that Ben Reilly wanted to talk to you. You figure you should make yourself available at least for an hour. He hasn’t sent you any messages, so you wonder if he’s already aware that you’ve been at Miguel’s lab for the majority of the day, hence the reason for the lack of messages from his end. You pack your things silently, shutting the laptop and fixing the area, which catches Miguel’s attention.

On his platform, he turns to look at you. Seeing you pack up makes him realize you’re probably not coming back because if you were, you would be leaving your desk as it was. Watching you push the chair under the desk only solidifies the fact.

“Heading… out?” Miguel asks, starting the conversation for the first time in days.

It catches you by surprise, so much it’s clearly expressed on your face. It immediately pains Miguel, to see how surprised you are that he’s talking to you. His hands close into fists at his sides, cursing mentally.

“… Yes,” you reply, picking up your empty cup. “I’m heading out.”

Miguel nods, his expression neutral but quickly morphing into a pained one.

“Migs…?” you say softly, quickly noticing his expression changing.

“Mierda [shit],” Miguel whispers, looking away and unable to stop himself from thinking he’s undeserving of your nickname. A nickname, or a term of endearment, is a gesture from someone who cares about you, and here he is, hurting you with his behavior. Seeing the surprise look on your face just seconds ago solidifies that. Miguel’s guilt only intensifies as the look on your face flashes in his mind. You don’t hurt those that you care for and care about you, but now he has hurt you to some degree.

“Miguel?” you try again.

“I’m - I’m sorry,” Miguel says, exhaling deeply with a remorseful tone. “I’m … sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Hearing Miguel say that throws all ideas about leaving out the window. You place the cup down and make your way to him, his head hanging low.

“Miguel,” you say once more, gently.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, lifting his head enough so you can see his face.

“Don’t,” you say. “Don’t apologize.”

“You deserve an apology,” Miguel replies. “I’ve been - I haven’t been in a good mood… I need to tell you something.”

“You don’t have to, Miguel,” you counter gently.

“I do. You deserve an explanation,” Miguel continues with a sigh, shaking his head in frustration at himself. “I saw the surprise on your face from me talking to you. You shouldn’t be surprised by that, but you are because I’ve been - a jerk.”

You sigh, standing on his platform. “You’re not a jerk, Miguel.” You state firmly. “I… I was wondering what was the matter,” you pause, wanting to be honest. “Don’t be mad at Lyla but… She told me a few hours ago. Some time before you returned to the penthouse this morning from the gym.”

“Lyla,” Miguel says, not even upset. “A part of me is relieved you already know… I should’ve told you sooner, but I couldn’t…” Miguel shakes his head, his eyes closed. He gulps softly. “It’s her birthday,” Miguel whispers, finally sharing from his own lips what has been on his mind all these past few days. ”Today is Gabby’s birthday.”

Nodding, you take a step closer. “I know,” you start. “I know it’s her birthday…” you reply, not knowing what else to say right now. To be honest, you weren’t expecting Miguel to tell you today. “I know it must be hard to share that,” you add softly.

Miguel sighs gently, nodding. “May I be honest?”

“Yeah, of course,” you whisper.

“I don’t want to be here right now.”

Your eyebrows furrow and you’re filled with worry instantly, for a second thinking that Miguel means something else, something much sadder, darker.

“I want to be home,” he goes on, clarifying. “I don’t want to be here, trying to distract myself from my thoughts about her.”

You sigh in relief, nodding. “We can go home, if you want?”

Miguel nods, wanting now more than ever to leave his lab. “Lyla, please let Jess know I’m going home,” Miguel says before correcting himself. “Let her know we’re both going home, dulzura and me.”

-♡-

Back at home, Miguel takes a shower while you begin to prepare an early dinner. You know that there’s essentially nothing in the whole multiverse that can lessen Miguel’s hurt today, but you hope that a homemade meal will sooth his heart just a little.

When he comes back downstairs, showered and dressed in lounging clothes, you fix him a plate before joining him. He doesn’t say anything else about Gabby, which you respect. You’re grateful he’s at least told you about Gabby’s birthday and that you’re both home eating together instead of him staying after hours at HQ before coming home and hiding at the gym.

Even after dinner and cleaning the kitchen, you’re unsure of what to do. You search for silent cues from Miguel. Does he want to be alone or is he okay with you being near him? You receive your answer when Miguel asks if you want to watch TV together, a question that leaves you a little surprised to start with, but one you answer with a “yes.”

You sit together in the living room. As always, you’re both on your respective couches.

Miguel watches the TV, or tries to. His attention is not fully on it for obvious reasons. Gabby is always on his mind, along with Gabriel, but due to her birthday coming up, she’s been even more so. He’s been thinking about it for days, about his little girl and how old she’d be turning today. It pains him so much, knowing she’s not here. He’s been trying to distract himself with work at HQ and then working out at the gym, going for hours so he doesn’t think about the fact that Gabby isn’t here - that she won’t be celebrating her birthday like she should.

He turns his head to look at the windows, the sun setting now. He’s reminded of yesterday when he was in his room after dinner. He found himself watching the sunset from there and in that short amount of time while the sun dipped, he thought about you. He heard you entering your room shortly after him and he wondered if you were watching it, too. He typed the message but before sending it, he changed his mind.

Miguel turns to look at you now, sitting on the couch, keeping him company. His guilt washes over him again at the sight. You denied it earlier but he’s such a jerk for the way he’s been behaving, there’s no way to deny it, at least not in his eyes.

He sighs. He promised he was going to try, didn’t he? He promised for Gabby and Gabriel. He was going to try to heal, to move forward.

It’s that thought that compels Miguel to stand up from the couch, telling you that he’d be back before heading upstairs.

You simply nod and stay in place, hoping Miguel truly does come back. To your relief, Miguel returns a few minutes later, holding a guitar.

You recognize it instantly from Miguel’s ofrenda [altar] for Día de los Muertos [Day of the Dead] as Miguel approaches you, who then takes a seat on the ground next to you. You join him a few seconds later without a doubt, watching him hold the guitar carefully.

“It’s the only thing… The only physical reminder I have left of Gabby. It was pure… Coincidence that I still have it,” Miguel shares, staring at the guitar. “A day before her universe collapsed, she asked me to fix the strings for her, so I brought it to HQ to work on it. Unfortunately, there were a lot of things happening that day. It was one thing or another. Every time I lifted it to begin working on it, something or someone would pop up and prevent me from doing so. I ended up forgetting it at HQ that day. With so much happening, I left it in my lab. It was much later when I remembered it. That last night. When I got back to her universe just in time for school to be out, she didn’t ask for it. She was so tired from the school day, she didn’t remember it. Not even later in the afternoon when she was done with school work and was free to do what she wanted, whether that was coloring, or playing with her toys, or practicing the guitar. It was me who remembered it when I tucked her in for the night.”

Miguel brushes his fingers over the strings, gently. “I told myself I’d fix the guitar as soon as I got to the lab, so I could take it back to her… So I could hear her play it in the afternoon the next day.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I had no idea that would be the last night… ever.”

Miguel doesn’t know why, but suddenly he feels like talking about that last night. He’s shared with you the last morning he spent with Gabby, just hours before one of the worst moments of his life took place.

“I used to think… After losing Gabriel, that nothing could ever hurt me as much. That there was nothing much worse that could happen to me. Nothing could ever, make me feel so much sorrow, grief, pain - and I was wrong. I never thought that I’d become a dad,” Miguel states, looking over the guitar, at the stickers that Gabby placed on it. “I never thought that I’d experience that, much less the loss of a child. I think - I know - a part of me always believed I was unworthy of such thing. I wasn’t meant for that life. Wasn’t meant to experience it. I was destined to be alone,” he continues. “And then she happened, and she - she was and continues to be one of the most beautiful things I’ve had the privilege of experiencing.”

Miguel shifts slightly, knowing you’re listening to him, like always.

“That last night, my wife and I cooked dinner. It was a normal evening, like any other. Gabby did her homework, got to play with her dolls afterwards. She had a lot, you know, but her favorites were the doctor and scientist dolls. Part of it was because they looked like her, and another part because of their professions.” Miguel smiles slightly, a sad smile. “In the short time I had with her, I always told her so. How they were mini versions of her in the future because she was so bright, so smart. I’d always tell her that she could do and be anything she wanted. I never once dampened her dreams nor her aspirations. I wanted her to know that she could be a scientist, or she could be a teacher, or she could be a bakery owner. It didn’t matter. As long as she wanted it and worked towards it, she could achieve anything, but I digress,” Miguel says, realizing he’s all over the place.

“She played with her dolls and showered afterwards. I arranged her school stuff for the morning. I always helped her prep her outfit the night before to save time in the morning, and made sure her backpack was set with her assistance to help her build responsibility, too, though I never struggled with that. She was so responsible for her age. She watched some TV that evening, and then, it was time for bed. I never missed bedtime,” Miguel continues, a fond smile on his face, his fingers splayed over the guitar.

“I loved tucking her in, reading to her. I’d climb into the bed to read to her sometimes. It was always a struggle, of course, and my back would be tense in the mornings, but it was worth it. So worth it. What I’d give… to repeat those moments. To be back in that cheerful bedroom and have her ask questions while seeking the comfort of her father… of her daddy.” Miguel sighs, thinking about that. How his heart would swell with a pure happiness unlike any other when she called him “dad” or “daddy.”

“I read to her that night and soon, she was drifting off. Sus ojitos [her little eyes; little is used as endearment, not meaning she had small eyes]… Her little eyes would flutter, trying to fight off the sleep to keep talking about the book. She’d blink real hard,” Miguel says with a soft chuckle, inhaling deeply and shakily. “Thinking it’d help her stay awake longer, but my little girl, she eventually doze off into a peaceful slumber with no worries. I was grateful for that, you know?” Miguel says turning to look at you. “There is no doubt in my mind that the original Miguel of that dimension was grateful for that, too. Gabby didn’t know what it was like to be ripped away from a peaceful dream because of your parents’ arguing in the living room. Nor did she have to worry about a younger sibling coming to her room to seek her comfort. I was always grateful that Miguel, the original of that dimension, had succeeded in providing such a safe space for her. And I was set on doing the same for her. I succeeded, too. So… she dozed off. I held her close,” Miguel whispers, recalling how it felt to hold his sleeping daughter in his arms.

“I remember thinking, ‘just a few more minutes. One day she’ll be all grown up, she may not want her dad’s affection anymore because she finds it embarrassing or uncool.’ So, I did. I stayed there with her. Now I wonder, if something deep inside me felt the danger coming. If I had sensed it somehow and I wanted to hold on to that moment - to her - just a little longer because something in me knew... knew that that would be the very last time I’d ever get to hold her like that, in such calm manner because the next day would be the very last time I held her, but under much different circumstances. That it’d be outside the comfort of her home with hundreds of frightened people running around us, seeking a safety that I couldn’t give to them because I didn’t understand what was happening.”

“Miguel,” you whisper gently, knowing to this day he blames himself for the collapse of Gabriella’s universe despite there being no evidence of such thing.

“I know,” he whispers back. “You’re too kind to me, so you don’t think I had something to do with it, but… my brain tells me so.”

“We still don’t know, you know that. There’s no evidence that suggests you did. Just because you were there, doesn’t mean you were responsible. It doesn’t make sense when so many of us have done the same, and yet those universes are still… here.” You inhale softly, hating the fact that Miguel still blames himself. You know it’s something that will take him time to let go, maybe until there’s further evidence that suggests otherwise. In Miguel’s mind, it’s not ‘innocent until proven guilty.’

It’s guilty until proven innocent.

“It probably doesn’t mean anything,” you start. “Because I know how these feelings can be rooted deep in us, despite any comforting words… but I don’t think you had anything to do with it, Miguel.”

He looks at you then, the pain in his eyes visible. “But what if it was me? I took everything from her. If I had stayed away - her universe might still be intact. She would be alive. She’d be celebrating today like she ought to,” Miguel says with desperation in his tone. “I ruined it. I should’ve never gone. I should’ve let things carry on like they were supposed to,” he insists.

“Miguel,” you say his name again but this time not in a whisper. You speak firmly, evenly. You almost lift your hand to place it on his shoulder but you remember not to. “I’m not saying that only because you’re my best friend,” you continue. “I wholeheartedly believe that you weren’t the cause. You’re not responsible for it. There’s something we’ve overlooked, the real cause. I have no doubt one day we’ll discover it, and it’ll show you that you were not at fault.”

“But what if I was?” he repeats. “She could’ve been alive today.”

“I’ve told you I don’t believe you are responsible. You know that, Miguel, but maybe there’s a chance she might have still been alive, if it wasn’t for the true cause of her universe’s collapse.” Next to you, Miguel huffs in frustration, as if he’s upset at your relentless faith that he had nothing to do with it. It frustrates you, the fact that he thinks you’re just trying to sooth his guilt. “Do you think it’s my fault Peter… passed away?”

That makes Miguel turn before he lowers the guitar to his lap. “What - no, of course not, dulzura. It wasn’t your fault,” he says, brows furrowed.

“Are you only saying that to make me feel better? Because we’re best friends?”

“Dulzura… No, of course not. It wasn’t your fault, and I mean that.”

“Then, can you believe that when I tell you that I don’t think you are responsible, I don’t say it only to make you feel better? Can you believe that I say it because I really do believe it?” you ask, holding his gaze with such a serious face that leaves no room for doubt or questioning.

Miguel blinks, keeping his gaze on you for several seconds. His gaze searches your face, so serious. He silently decides he doesn’t like such look on you - he prefers to see you smile, prefers the brightness in your eyes when you’re happy, when you’re in good spirits, but that serious face… Miguel sees you truly believe what you’re saying. You’re not only saying it to make him feel better, to reassure him, and lessen his guilt and pain. At last, he nods slowly.

“I can… a part of me can, but another part of me still feels an incredible guilt that I swear will never fade, no matter how much time passes,” he states softly. “I think about what she could’ve had, where she could’ve been. What she’d be in the future, the amazing things she could’ve done, and experienced.”

You sigh softly and nod. With deceased loved ones, there’s always those questions, especially when they pass away too soon, when there was so much for them to live and experience. You yourself have thought about Peter and all the things he never had the opportunity to experience nor accomplish. Then, there’s also the things that he didn’t even get a chance to wish for, or dream about. By now, he may have accomplished all his previous goals and dreams, and he might have been on to newer ones, but you’ll never know now. Still, you know that for however long he was alive, he lived a good life despite the few tragedies he experienced early on in life. He was a happy man, and he loved and was loved deeply.

“I know it’s a different age with Peter. He had the opportunity to live more but… That always hurt me to think about, too,” you admit. “About all the goals and dreams he had, about the ones he didn’t even get to think of.” You pause, looking at your hand for a few seconds. “A wise man once said, that seven years count the same as seventy, even seven hundred.” Looking up again, you find Miguel’s crimson eyes on the same hand you were just staring at before he lifts his gaze to yours. He raises an eyebrow, wondering, so you continue.

“Someone may live to ninety years and we think, ‘Wow. They’re so lucky.’ We imagine they lived and experienced so much, but that’s not always the case. Someone who only got to live nine or twenty-three years old may have lived more than the ninety year old person has. Just because we’ve had more years to live doesn’t mean we’ve actually lived, not for all of them,” you say softly, looking away. “I didn’t live for many years. I stopped when I lost Peter.”

Hearing you say that breaks Miguel’s heart, brings him so much pain.

“It’s probably… stupid and maybe even cringe,” you say with a smile and shrug, which for some reason pains Miguel even more. “My heart functioned, and I was alive, but I didn’t feel like it. I didn’t actually live over that time. And I didn’t even realize until much later, when I joined the Spider Society, how dull I had truly become. There’s still moments, even now, when I realize that all over again. Like, when I look at sunsets and realize I looked at sunsets during those times but I wasn’t really looking at them… if that makes sense. It was as if I was looking through a screen, someone else’s life. And then, I started to learn to live again. So… I’m sure you know where I’m getting at with this,” you say, looking at him again, at last.

“Gabby may have only lived for nine years but every single one of them counted as living. Her biological father, from what you’ve shared, loved her so much and gave her a safe and comfortable life with so much love, which you continue when you stepped up to be her dad. In her nine years of life… She knew and most importantly, felt, the important things. Unconditional love. Comfort. Happiness. Safety. That’s more than some ninety, or even forty year old have ever experienced despite being alive for several decades… because they haven’t lived. I wish Peter… Gabby, Gabriel - were here now. That they were able to still be here and live longer. That wish will never fade, not truly, I don’t think, but personally?” You offer Miguel a smile. “I’m thankful Peter knew and felt all those things - that he was able to experience them when so many don’t.”

With that, you look away and lean back on the couch, allowing Miguel to either absorb your words, or reject them.

“She was loved,” Miguel states almost a minute later of silence. “She was so loved. By both her biological dad, and then me. I’m grateful for that,” he whispers. “I’m grateful she knew love, kindness. That she knew happiness, comfort, and safety. Like every child should.” Whispering that, Miguel sighs. His head lowers to look at the guitar, his mind flooded with memories of Gabby being happy. He can’t help but feel a new wave of guilt at the fact that on a day that she’d be very happy on, he’s feeling this way.

Like a bolt of lightning, he’s reminded of Gabriel suddenly, of his words, to be exact, from his dream a year ago. He asked Miguel to live for them. Then, there’s also your words from a few weeks ago when you witnessed one of his nightmares for the first time. You said to honor them - to live how they would live if they were here.

Thinking about that, Miguel clears his throat. “You always bake a cake for Peter on his birthday.”

“I do,” you reply, looking over at him with curiosity. You didn’t expect the sudden change of conversation.

“You do it because that’s what you would’ve done if he was still around.”

“Yes.”

Miguel nods, thinking. He’s never bought or baked a cake for Gabriel or his mother. He’s never celebrated their birthdays after they passed away. That includes Gabriella.

He looks down at his gizmo. It’s not too late… Surely a bakery is still open. Maybe they still have cakes.

“Miguel?” you ask softly, noticing him looking at his gizmo.

“I… I think I want to buy her a cake,” he says looking up at you.

“You… do?”

Miguel nods, rapidly realizing he really wants to do this. “Yes. I want to. She deserves it.” He places the guitar on the coffee table and begins to stand up. “I’m going to check the bakeries and see if I can find a cake she’d like. Maybe I’ll have luck.”

Noticing Miguel begin to stand up, you stand up, too, and before you can stop yourself, you make an offer. “I can bake her one, if you want.”

Miguel freezes, looking at you. “You?… Really?” he asks, his entire face softening and lighting up. His tone is gentle, filled with awe and wonder, as if you’ve just made him the greatest offer in history.

With a nod, you smile and reply. “Yes, really. We can bake one together, if you want to help. You know I love baking, so I have almost anything I could need to bake a cake. Just say the word, Migs,” you answer softly.

The nickname, your smile, and offer brings a smile to Miguel’s face. He nods slowly, standing completely now. “Si, por favor [yes, please]. That would mean so much to me… and Gabby.”

You gesture to the kitchen. “C’mon.”

Miguel follows after you, carrying Gabby’s guitar, so precious to him.

You set the oven to preheat, already knowing how to use it since you’ve baked a lot at the penthouse since you’ve lived here. You have Miguel decide the shape, so you find the round cake mold when he politely requests a round one. He retrieves the mixer and the few ingredients he knows will be used, letting you tell him what else is needed so he can help.

As you stated, you have a little of everything so you give him plenty of options for the type of bread, filling, and icing.

Miguel quickly decides the filling should be out of strawberries since Gabby loved them, apparently they were her favorite fruit. For the actual bread, he decides to go with chocolate - it was also a favorite of little Gabby.

Once that’s settled, you begin working with the help of Miguel though your years of baking do not require it. You let him though because you know it’s special to him. It’s for his little girl, after all. So you let him pour the ingredients into the mixing bowl while you work on other things towards the cake.

The more you move through the process together, the more Miguel slowly begins to tell you about Gabby. It’s as if his mind is flooded with random little memories all fighting for his attention. You listen intently to every word, smiling and chuckling with him when he tells you something funny she did or said once.

He’s already shared some of the moments he talks about, but you still listen to him, noticing the glimmer of happiness in his eyes while talking about his Gabby.

As you bake and Miguel shares with you all these moments, you picture them in your head. You see Miguel carrying Gabby on his shoulders, her toothy smile on display. You see Gabby giggling when Miguel accidentally let go of the hair tie and it snapped against his finger while doing her hair. There’s Miguel making Gabby Choco Milk in her favorite cup, and the one time Gabby asked where babies came from out of nowhere, which Miguel didn’t know how to answer in the moment, so he told her he’d find that out and let her know later on.

“What about music?” you ask softly when you pull the pan out of the oven a while later. “What did she like? You’ve mentioned her favorite song before… ‘Luna de Xelajú’, but what else did she like?”

Miguel smiles softly at the fact that you remember her favorite song. “That was her favorite song, yes. She liked other songs, of course. Different genres and artists of all ages. She even liked Joan Sebastian,” Miguel says amused. “She sang some of his songs like she understood matters of the heart already. Then, there were some that always made her dance, like this song called ‘No rompas mi corazón’ - there’s a dance for it. It’s played at parties sometimes,” Miguel shares, not sure if you’re familiar with it.

“It’s something like this,” Lyla says popping out of nowhere, showing you a video of people dancing at a party.

“I know of it,” you say with a smile, not surprised that Lyla has made an appearance. She tends to pop up sometimes out of nowhere when both Miguel and you least expect her. “So Gabby danced to it?”

“Yeah, she’d hear it and it’s like her feet were tingling to move. She’d get so excited every time it came on,” he says with a smile. “She’d dance and look at me and say ‘¡mira, mira, papá! [look, look, papa]’… But there was one artist she absolutely adored, her favorite artist. Selena.”

“Selena?” you ask, surprised. Of course you know of her. “A version of her existed in Gabby’s universe?”

“Yes, but unlike in so many universes where her life is cut short, this version peacefully passed away before Gabby was born out of old age. She had a large and happy family. Gabby told me so,” Miguel says. “She knew a lot about her.”

“What was her favorite song of hers?”

Miguel smiles. “It was ‘Baila Esta Cumbia’ - she’d dance to it, too.”

“Do you want me to… play it?” Lyla asks Miguel while you work on the cake, wondering what his answer will be. It might be too soon for him.

Miguel stays silent for several seconds, thinking. It’s been so long since he’s heard the song, or any of the music that Gabby used to enjoy listening.

“Lyla can always turn it off,” you offer softly as you work, glancing at him for a few seconds before continuing to work on the cake. “If you decide to.”

He hums softly at your words, drumming his fingers against his thigh. At last, he nods to Lyla and a few seconds later, the upbeat song begins to play, filling the kitchen and lifting the mood.

Miguel watches you work on the cake, his finger tapping against his thigh to the beat, thinking about Gabby.

“If only she were here now,” he mumbles softly. He wonders if she’d still like the song, or if she’d have a new favorite song by Selena, if she’d still even be a fan of Selena to begin with. He wonders, just like he wonders about other things, what her music taste would be like now.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the counter and interlocking his fingers to press against his forehead, looking at the counter surface for a few seconds before closing his eyes and just listening to the song.

He can pretend for a few seconds that she’s here, that she’s singing happily to the song and doing her little dances. He hears the ‘eh, eh, eh,’ part and recalls how she’d sing that part, clapping her small hands to it.

He uncovers his face, lowering his hands to the counter. “You heard that part? The ‘eh, eh, eh?’ She used to clap along with it,” Miguel shares, smiling softly. “She was always so elated when it played. It cheered her up.”

Miguel makes it without crying for the rest of the song, so Lyla deems it safe to play other songs she thinks are appropriate for what could’ve been Gabby’s birthday party. She keeps it light with the music as you work on the cake while Miguel shares other tidbits of Gabby.

After some time, you add the last candle before turning it around so Miguel can see it, his eyes softening immediately at the finished cake.

“What do you think?” you ask him as his eyes take in every detail about it.

He nods, eyebrows knitted gently before he turns his attention to you, smiling tenderly. “It’s… Beautiful, dulzura,” he states softly, his tone full of sincerity. “It’s so Gabby. She would’ve loved it, I know that. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he whispers accepting the cake as you hand it to him with a warm smile, happy that Miguel likes the cake.

You find a lighter and reach Miguel’s side, not worried about washing dishes since Miguel got most of them while you were working to help, and even then, neither of you would’ve cared in order to celebrate.

At last, you both look at it, at the completed cake, sitting side by side while music still plays in the background.

Miguel continues to observe it, admiring your work with the details like the little bees and the sprinkle of lilac flowers. He doesn’t fail to notice the color you used to write ‘Happy Birthday, Gabby!!’ with - the color Selena was most known for, that rich purple.

“She…” Miguel starts, his voice soft and quiet, as he thinks about her. About Gabby. “She would’ve loved it.” He whispers, a knot forming in his throat. “Thank you - she would’ve loved it, so much.”

“The bees and her favorite color,” you say. “I thought she might have.”

“She would. She really would,” Miguel replies lifting a hand to his face. He tries to be subtle about it, but from your peripheral vision, you can see the action, the way he wipes at his eye.

You feel tears yourself but for Miguel, you try to stay calm, try to be strong. However, seeing someone you care for so much cry has never made it easy. A few tears pool in your eyes, blurring your vision. Biting your bottom lip because you feel it quivering, you dab at your eyes gently, trying to make the gesture subtle, too.

“Do you want me to…?” you ask raising the lighter.

Miguel turns, sniffling. Noticing the lighter, he nods. “… Please,” he whispers.

Miguel doesn’t need to say anything else. His simple response is all you need, so you lit the candles carefully, watching the cake come to life with their flickering.

You both stare at it, unbeknownst to either of you, imagining the same thing: a Gabriella standing behind the counter, her eyes lit up with happiness, her face illuminated by the gentle glow of the candles. There’s a beautiful, toothy smile on her face as she listens to the people around her sing happy birthday before she gets to make a wish and blow the candles.

You can imagine Miguel taking pictures from the very back to avoid blocking anyone's views due to his height with a happy, warm, and sweet smile on his face to see his little girl turn one year older.

Then, there's Gabby looking at the camera still smiling once she has made her wish, guests cheering and clapping.

And maybe, just to keep up with traditions - Miguel would gently get a little bit of icing on Gabby’s nose with his hand, but remaining alert that no one tries to push his daughter into the cake.

“Están son… las mañanitas [these are… the beloved mornings],” Miguel starts singing, his voice low. “Que cantaba el rey David. Hoy por ser día de tu santo, te las cantamos a ti. Despierta - [That King David sang. Today being your saint’s day (same as birthday), we sing them for you. Wake up -]” Miguel pauses, inhaling sharply. “Mi niña, despierta. Mira que ya amaneció… ya los pajaritos cantan, la luna ya se metió [My little girl, wake up. Look, the sun is up… the little birds sing, the moon is gone]…” he sings softly, trailing off.

The next part of the song carries on, credit to Lyla. She starts playing it from where Miguel left off, Vicente Fernandez's voice filling the kitchen.

You sit by, listening to the music and how Miguel sings a song he's known and sang many times in his childhood for friends and Gabriel, but one he never had the opportunity to sing for Gabby.

Despite wanting to join him, you let Miguel do it on his own, respecting he’d want to do so.

“Con jazmines y flores, este día quiero adornar. Hoy, por ser día de tu santo, te venimos a cantar [With jasmine and flowers, this day I want to decorate. Today, for being your saint’s day, we come to sing],” Miguel finishes at last, his voice just a tad louder than when he first started. He clears his throat, wiping some tears from his eyes.

“Do you want to sing ‘Happy Birthday,’ too?” you ask gently.

“… Yeah, would you…?” he asks taking a moment to swallow. “Join me?”

Of course, you nod. How could you ever decline Miguel when it comes to his daughter? Never.

And so, the two of you sing to Gabby.

”Cha, cha, cha” Miguel adds at the end. He turns to face you, his cheeks dusted with redness. “We always did that in the family at the end. Right before the ‘queremos pastel’ and ‘que lo parta’ - Gabriel used to love that when he was little [we want cake; cut it (referring to the cake)],” Miguel shares a fond smile on his face, his eyes misty with tears before turning to look at the cake again.

By this point, the birthday girl should’ve made her wish and blown the candles. He swallows harshly, realizing. Someone needs to blow the candles. He pulls the cake closer to himself, feeling the heat from the candles. He turns to look at you then, a sudden thought popping into his mind.

“I was going to blow the candles… Would you like to do it with me?” Miguel asks softly, his eyes searching your face for any discomfort. He knows he might be asking for too much already. You’ve done so much by baking the cake, by being so thoughtful with the details that he has no doubt Gabby would’ve loved and gushed about.

Now, he’s asking this extra thing from you, asking you to join him in blowing the birthday candles for someone you didn’t have the opportunity to meet, but the way you talk about Gabby and how you look at her pictures on the wall lets Miguel know you care about her as if you had known her personally.

And not just Gabriella, but Gabriel, too. You’ve told him how you wish they were around, so you could’ve met them and known them, something that always makes his heart swell with tenderness and happiness. How he wishes they were around for that, too, to meet you.

Knowing how you feel about two of the most important people in his life, makes Miguel feel a little less worried. Still, he searches your face to make sure he isn’t placing you in an uncomfortable position. However, when he meets your eyes, he finds no discomfort at all.

You nod gently. “If you wish me to.”

“Yes, please. If you’re okay with it,” he replies, still holding your gaze, giving you an option.

“I’m okay with it... In honor of Gabby,” you respond warmly, images of the little girl still flashing in your mind, thinking how much different this would be if she was here.

Miguel might still have tears in his eyes, but they’d be happy ones. Maybe a little bittersweet knowing that his kid is growing older, but he’d be happy because he gets to celebrate his daughter - because he’s a dad and he has family.

You wonder if some spider members, like the spider gang, would’ve been invited to the party, whether it’d be a small or medium size gathering. You wonder what the decorations might be like. Miguel would’ve gone all out, no corners cut to celebrate, no doubt. He would’ve probably blown balloons and stuck decorations on the walls. He would’ve planned the party for weeks, so it would be perfect for Gabby.

He would’ve ordered a cake with plenty of time to make sure there were no problems. If he was unable to pick it up himself, he would’ve sent his most trusted person to pick it up. Probably not Miles after he share the incident with his dad’s cakes when he became captain though.

Maybe it would’ve been Jess if she was available. Or, maybe even Ben Reilly. Maybe his wife if they were still together.

Or maybe, he would’ve asked you if you were still friends in this alternative scenario.

Either way, the cake would’ve been left to someone trustworthy while Miguel got other things completed. There would’ve probably been party hats passed out, the penthouse filled with people. You wonder what Miguel would have ordered for food, or whether he might have cooked it himself because Gabby requested her favorite foods for her birthday.

You think back to Dia de los Muertos [Day of the Dead] and the foods Miguel offered for Gabby’s ofrenda [altar]. Would she had requested some of those foods? You remember she especially loved Miguel’s breakfasts, specifically pancakes with chocolate chips.

Perhaps Miguel would’ve made that for her this morning. He would’ve woken up early, but not to head to HQ. No, the reason why Miguel would’ve woken up early would’ve been to make Gabriella her favorite breakfast, if it was the same to this day, of course. He would’ve cooked for her and then woken her up at an appropriate time, las mañanitas [the birthday song, Mexico’s version] playing thanks to Lyla.

You imagine her waking up, the sleepiness wearing off her face as she realizes it’s her birthday. Perhaps Miguel met her at her bed, giving her a tight bear hug, wondering how it’s possible that his daughter has turned a year older, wondering where time is going, hoping that she doesn’t grow up too soon.

He may have pushed his thoughts away, trying to avoid the bittersweet feelings and focusing on making sure that Gabby’s birthday is perfect, so he’d tell her to come to the kitchen only to surprise her with favorite breakfast, hinting at a special day ahead with the birthday party scheduled for the afternoon. And oh, you know he would’ve left HQ early. Nothing, no mission or anomaly, would’ve prevented him from making it to his daughter’s party.

You sigh softly at the thoughts, the wishes for Miguel and Gabby. How you wish they could’ve had today.

Maybe in another universe, still undiscovered by the Spider Society, a Miguel had the privilege of doing that with another version of Gabby today.

“One… Two…” Miguel counts softly, thinking of what could’ve been today - of all the ways he would’ve made sure today was perfect for his daughter. If only they could’ve had today. If only they could’ve had a full lifetime.

“Three,” you both whisper before leaning forward and blowing the candles.

You both watch as the small trails of smoke rise above the cake, leaning back once more.

“Feliz Cumpleaños, mija [Happy Birthday, my daughter],” Miguel whispers tenderly. “I hope wherever you are… That you’re celebrating with Miguel and your uncle Gabriel. Maybe with your grandmother Conchata, too, if she’s available. Te quiero, y te sigo extrañando. Como siempre [I love you, and I keep missing you. Like always].”

“Happy Birthday, Gabby…” you say gently after gulping a small knot in your throat due to Miguel’s words. “I hope you’re having a lovely day with Gabriel and your other dad. I hope there’s lots of pan dulce [Mexican sweet bread], especially pink conchas [seashell shaped pan dulce], and your favorite Mexican candy.”

Miguel chuckles, ducking his head to wipe the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Pink conchas and Mexican candy. That would make her day,” he says straightening up, smiling despite the tears. He dries them again, sighing. He turns to look at you, filled with ternura [tenderness]. “Thank you for your sweet words, for agreeing to blow the candles with me, for the cake…” He pauses. “Thank you for everything. I hope you know how much it means to me, how much I appreciate it - thank you, dulzura,” he whispers gently, sincerely.

You smile at him, nodding. “Always, Miguel,” you whisper.

He smiles softly before it fades, his expression turning to an apologetic one. “The last few days…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply.

“No, I do,” he states firmly, shifting closer. He turns his body to face you fully, his legs touching your leg closest to him. “I… want to say I’m sorry. I haven’t been… It’s been a few hard days knowing her birthday was coming up, and I… It still hurts,” he says. “It still hurts and instead of talking about it with you, I just - partially shut down, like I used to before… You,” Miguel confesses. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable the last few days, making it seem like I didn’t want to be around you. I wanted to but I didn’t want to burden you with all of this.” He sighs. “I didn’t want to cast my rain on you.”

“Cast your rain on me?” you question, tilting your head to the side. “You know that’s… what friends are for.” You give him a reassuring smile. “I understand though… About it hurting and shutting down. It’s okay,” you reassure Miguel. “And you don’t need to apologize. I was worried but… I understand.”

“I do need to apologize,” Miguel insists. “If it was you, I would’ve…” Miguel trails off, scratching his neck. “I would’ve felt that you were pushing me away without a reason. I never want to make you feel like that,” he shares unable to look you in the eyes, so he focuses on the cake again while he speaks. He reads Gabby’s name on it before turning back to you. “I’m sorry, dulzura. I’m still learning.”

“It’s alright, Miguel,” you tell him again. “Should we… cut the cake?”

“You refuse to accept my apology,” he says, brows furrowed.

“Is that necessary?”

“It was a jerk move.”

“I don’t see it that way, but if it makes you feel better, apology accepted,” you reply, flashing him a small smile. “I appreciate your apology, and your willingness to share what’s been going on.”

Miguel nods at that, relieved that you’ve accepted his apology for the way he’s been acting recently.

You nod back, still smiling.“Cake time?”

“Cake time,” Miguel answers with a small smile.

You both turn your attention to the cake again just in time to see two candles sparkling and then flickering back to full life for a few seconds before they go out again, on their own.

With knitted eyebrows, you turn to look at each other, equally surprised by the short moment before turning your attention back to the cake.

As you remain sitting, watching the cake, the mood changes to a significantly lighter one, as if something physically tugged a heavy cloak from your shoulders to relieve them.

For a few seconds, neither of you say anything, basking in the new and light atmosphere that descends on the two of you like falling leaves in autumn.

“I’ll get the knife and plates,” you say breaking the silence after a few seconds.

“I’ll get us drinks and utensils,” Miguel replies before you both gather everything on the counter and prepare to cut the cake.

You hand him the knife so he can do the honors but at the last second he pulls back. “Wait,” he says. “Before I cut it - Lyla?”

“Yes, jefe [boss]?” Lyla says appearing in front of you.

“Can you… Can you take a photo of it?” Miguel asks her.

With a little grin, Lyla nods. “I got you covered. I’ve already taken a few…” she admits. “But I’ll take one more.” With that, she takes one more photo, which she displays for you to see. “What do we think? You outdid yourself, D, by the way.”

“D?” Miguel and you say at the same time.

Lyla turns and smirks. “Well, Miguel gave you ‘Dulzura,' so I figured I could call you D.”

“Oh,” you say, not sure if you’re up for that.

“I don’t think that’s…” Miguel trails off, not liking it himself, but at least Lyla isn’t trying to call you dulzura either. For some reason the idea of someone else calling you that, even if it’s his own AI assistant, rubs him the wrong way, but he doesn’t say that. “I think… Maybe consider something else.“

“Fine. I see neither of you are happy with it. You outdid yourself, Y/N. There. Better?” Lyla says rolling her eyes. “The longer you two spend time together, the more you team up against me. It’s so unfair.”

Miguel and you chuckle.

“And now they’re laughing at me. Humans,” Lyla mumbles under her breath. “Are you cutting the cake or not?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re cutting the cake,” Miguel says. “Thank you for taking the photo, L.”

“L?” Lyla repeats, offended.

“It’s for Lyla,” you say with a smile, making Miguel smirk softly since you’re following along with his teasing.

“You’re not calling me ‘L’ - I reject that,” Lyla replies, crossing her arms over chest.

“We’ll think of another nickname then,” Miguel replies, positioning the knife to cut the cake at last.

“Finally!” Lyla says. “Queremos pastel [we want cake]!”

“Queremos pastel [we want cake],” Miguel repeats, lowering the knife, imagining for a second that Gabby is the one cutting it, not him. He imagines himself taking photos from the back to capture the moment. “Queremos pastel, pastel, pastel [we want cake, cake, cake].”

You smile, listening to Miguel say ‘we want cake’ as he finally slices it. Lyla and you clap softly, which warms Miguel’s heart.

“Happy Birthday, Gabby!” Lyla says, smiling fondly at the cake. “I wish I could eat cake,” she adds frowning.

“You have no idea what you’re missing out on,” Miguel says with a smile as he cuts two slices, one for each of you.

“You don’t have to rub it in, Miguel,” she replies with a huff as she watches Miguel fix you a plate first, carefully placing it in front of you before fixing his own.

You wait until Miguel has his plate ready and then, you both try the cake at the same time.

You both sigh in content as the flavors melt in your mouth, pleased with it. Of course, there was no doubt in your minds that it was going to be good, especially not in Miguel’s mind. He loves your baking and cooking, but especially your baking since it satisfies his sweet tooth. So he had no doubt your baking was going to be excellent as always.

You both go for a second slice, which you take to the living room for more comfort after storing the remainder of the cake away. Miguel brings Gabby’s guitar along, placing it next to him on the floor. You’ve returned to the same spots from earlier, sitting side by side on the ground.

Lyla disappeared at some point while Miguel served the second slices, unusually quiet as she glanced between you before flickering away, so it’s just the two of you and light music for now as you eat your extra slices of cake.

Finishing with his, Miguel clears his throat and carefully dabs his mouth clean with a napkin. He rests his back on the couch, smiling gently as he watches you bring the fork to your mouth to eat.

“As always, your baking was incredible,” he compliments you. “Thank you for baking it. I believe Gabby would’ve loved it.”

“I’m happy and flattered to hear that,” you reply with a smile.

“She would be - probably giving you a lot of hugs right now.”

That makes you smile brighter, a warm feeling in your chest grows at the simple idea of Gabby loving her birthday cake so much that she’d give you a hug, or multiple.

“I would’ve accepted every single one of them,” you answer, still smiling.

“And returned them,” Miguel adds, knowing you so well. “You would’ve returned every single hug Gabby gave you and then add one or two more.”

“You know me too well,” you say chuckling before you take a sip from your glass. “I would’ve.”

Miguel picks up the guitar, a small smile on his face still. He brushes his fingers against the strings, thinking.

“The last few days were hard, knowing that her birthday was approaching. It’s hard, still,” he says, looking at it. “I didn’t expect for it to hurt less so soon, of course, but it always hurts to think she didn’t turn a year older, even if that would’ve been bittersweet.”

“In a way, I think I know what that would’ve felt like,” Miguel continues, his lips almost pouting. “I watched Gabriel grow older before my own eyes and it always made me feel bittersweet, to see my little brother grow older. I imagine I would’ve felt something similar with Gabby… but it’s not only that that hurts. It hurts that I can’t visit her somewhere. There’s nowhere for me to go. To visit her. I can go and visit my mom and Gabriel, but Gabriella… She’s gone. Really gone. There’s no resting place for her - because there’s no… her,” Miguel whispers, looking at the guitar in his hands.

To think he was the last one to hold her, his arms were the last thing she felt. “I was the last one to hold her. The last thing she felt… were my arms around her. That’s brought me some… comfort over time. She didn’t suffer in her last moments, not physically. I don’t know what I would’ve done if she had.” Miguel’s eyes shut tight, his head lowering. He would’ve hated himself so much more than he does already for not stopping what happened.

After several seconds of silence, he opens his eyes. “But as I was saying… there’s nowhere to see her. Nowhere to offer her flowers. I would visit her every day if there was. I would change her flowers every few days. I would’ve visited today and taken some things for her but there’s nowhere to go.”

You listen intently to Miguel, nodding as he talks. The very same thought has come to your mind before, about how Gabby doesn’t have a resting place, somewhere for Miguel to visit her. You remember thinking about it a while back, imagining how much harder it would be for someone like Miguel to heal from his loss when there’s no resting place for Gabby because her universe collapsed.

“It’s something I think about often, but I can’t do anything about it,” Miguel says playing a few strings.

You hum softly, staying quiet for a few moments and simply watching Miguel as his fingers move over the strings, not playing. “I can imagine, Miguel,” you reply gently after some seconds.

You look over to the wall, your gaze finding the photographs you helped Miguel hang not too long ago. It’s become a special spot for him in the penthouse, a detail that’s given the place a much warmer vibe along with the other changes Miguel has made.

Your eyes move to the console table attached to the same wall, decorated with a simply abstract figure. It’s a spot neither of you have thought about spicing up with Miguel trying to redecorate.

“I know you said there’s nowhere to go… But what if…” you trail off, the idea still forming in your head.

“What if…?” Miguel repeats, wondering what you’re thinking about. He’s both curious and excited to hear whatever is on your mind, something that might give him some comfort regarding the situation.

“What if you give her a place here?” you continue, nodding to the console table. “Her special place for you to visit her per say, close to you, here in your home.”

His eyes light up at the idea.

“Never mind, that’s probably… not a good idea,” you say, doubting yourself, but when you turn to look at Miguel, he’s shaking his head.

“I like it. I like it a lot. In fact… I love it,” he says softly with a little smile. “I spend a lot of time here at the living room, so it’d be nice to set it here. And,” he pauses, standing up and looking around. “This place receives a lot of natural light. She loved the sunshine. Sometimes I think she would’ve loved the living room especially for that reason, the sunshine coming through the windows while she colored on the coffee table,” Miguel continues, a hint of excitement in his voice, as his mind works on how he wants it to look - to honor his little girl, to have a place to visit her in a way as you said. He walks over to you and hands you the guitar. “Hold this, please, while I go get something. I’ll be right back.”

He exits the living room before you can say anything, heading towards the office on the first floor, so you hold the guitar with care knowing how special it is.

This is the first time you’ve held it, so you inspect it a little closer to look at the stickers Gabby put on it. There’s three flowers on it, a DNA strand, and a science symbol which doesn’t surprise you. Miguel has always stated how much Gabby loved science, how bright she was. You smile tenderly at it, allowing yourself to realize it was once held by her, a thought that makes you tear up a little. You think about how this guitar was once held by that little girl with the toothy smile who loved pink conchas, chocolate chip pancakes, arroz con leche [Mexican rice pudding], and Choco Milk. The little girl whose birthday is today, who loved science and candy so much her dad couldn’t say no to her, and who loved bees and the color lilac. The one that played guitar and fútbol [I don’t want to call it soccer], who sometimes fell asleep on the way home after a victorious game.

You turn the guitar over, reading the name on the back.

“Gabriella O’Hara,” you whisper, your fingertips barely touching it. “Gabby.” You sniffle quietly and wipe tears from your eyes, not wanting Miguel to see you crying but then, a tissue comes into your vision.

Startled, you look up and find Miguel, his own eyes teary due to seeing and hearing you cry. Despite his own sadness - his grief - he still finds it in himself to offer you a reassuring, little smile before he carefully dries your tears with the tissue.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, embarrassed.

“Don’t be,” Miguel whispers back. “Seeing how much you care about Gabby, despite not having the opportunity to meet her, is so touching to me. You have no idea.” He clears his throat and steps back once he’s done. “It means so much to me that you care about her.”

You sniffle again, trying to recover. “I do. If I could do something to bring her back…”

Miguel’s face softens even more.

“I’d give my life so she was here with you,” you say, looking down at the guitar. “So you’d be happy.”

“I would still be hurting,” Miguel says quietly, which makes you look up, frowning.

“Why?” you ask softly, so honestly it leaves Miguel in disbelief for a few seconds.

“Why? You ask why?” he says, his brows raising. “I’d be missing and grieving you, dulzura. That’s why.” He sits near you with a sigh. “So… don’t ever sacrifice yourself,” Miguel says quietly, firmly. “Please.” Just the idea of something happening to you… It leaves more than a bitter taste in Miguel’s mouth. He doesn’t know what he’d do if you were hurt, if something else happened. He doesn’t want to think about it.

You nod slowly, his words sinking in. Without saying it directly, Miguel has stated that he cares about you. It brings a little smile to your face as you hand him the guitar, thinking he’d appreciate holding it again. Your fingers brush his as the guitar is exchanged but neither of you say anything about it.

“But I’m touched you care so much about Gabby - about me - that you’d try to bring her back if there was a way, without you giving your life.” Miguel adds. “To make me not happy, but happi-er because despite everything… I am happy these days, you know.” He turns to look at you, nudging his chin at you.

You smile, guessing he’s talking about you, so you nudge your chin back at him because you’re happier these days thanks to him, too.

He flashes you a small grin, for a second having the urge to gently take your chin between his thumb and finger, an urge that disperses quickly when you change the topic for his and your sake.

“You went to get something. What was it?” you ask.

“Right,” Miguel says, remembering. He reaches from his other side and retrieves a picture frame and a candle. “I want to add another photo of Gabby, a larger one to place on the console table. The candle… I want to light one for her. In Mexico, people sometimes have small altars for their loved ones at home throughout the year, you reminded me of that when you mentioned the console table. Tomorrow, I’ll go and buy her flowers from the flower market. I already have a vase that I think will be perfect. It used to be in my mom’s apartment when she lived in the building.”

“That sounds lovely,” you reply with a smile. “It’s going to look so beautiful. What picture are you thinking of using for the altar?”

Miguel sighs. ��Well… All the pictures I have are already on the wall.”

You both turn your gazes to the photographs, your eyes finding Gabby’s few remaining photos.

“So, it’ll have to be one of them,” Miguel continues, to this day still upset that there’s not more photos of Gabby.

You nod, wishing there were more photos and videos of Gabby at least.

Seeing a sudden pop of white to your side, you turn and find Lyla. She gives you a look, as if asking you to wish her good luck before she floats farther away so Miguel can see her, too. The sight of Lyla and her expression, at this moment, has your heart racing suddenly.

“Hey… Miguel?” Lyla starts too quietly, too serious.

“Lyla,” Miguel replies his face changing to confusion, then to one of seriousness as his ears identify the different tone in her voice.

“I have something to tell you… It’s a good thing,” she continues looking at him and then at you.

“What is it?” Miguel asks.

“So… A year ago when you were injured in another universe, you know with the Goblin, the system shut down. It was rebooted by Margo and all was great, but some files were temporarily lost due to the sudden shut down. Others became corrupted. I started working on retrieving those files, slowly but surely. There was no rush as those files weren’t top priority, you know, essential to us for our day to day work at HQ. To be honest, I couldn’t even tell you what these files were, since they had no official name when I found them,” Lyla explains.

“Files… What are you getting at?” Miguel asks.

“I’ve retrieved them, uncovered what they were. Including the corrupted files. On my little free time, I’ve been restoring the files and well… It turns out that I had forgotten about some of these files due to previous system reboots. Since they were somehow omitted from my system due to previous shut downs, I didn’t even know they existed anymore, especially being lost and corrupted files within the system.”

“What are they? Why is it important to tell us this now?” Miguel asks, holding on to the guitar. His heart begins to race a little, even though he tells himself to not be stupid - to not have hope there’s more.

“Both the lost and corrupted files have turned out to be…” Lyla trails off, looking between Miguel and you. “Photos and videos of Gabby and you. New ones, not the ones you have already.”

Miguel inhales sharply, his heart racing as Lyla’s words sink in. “It’s not possible,” he says without thinking.

“It is, Miguel,” she replies offering a genuine look. “And I swear I didn’t hide them this time. They were lost and even I had no idea they were just sitting there in the system. I came across the folder sometime over the summer after you were injured and decided to work on them. It wasn’t until October or so that one of the files turned out to be a photo of her. I wanted to tell you right away, but then, I figured that since I didn’t even know about this one photo being lost, maybe a few more files would turn out to be photos of her, too. I was hoping to have it done by Father’s Day, but well, things happen at HQ…” Lyla says apologetically. “I finished today. My work proved to be successful because almost every file was of Gabby. I finished recovering the last one today and I’m happy to tell you that there’s over twenty photos on top of some videos. Do you wish to see them?”

“Yes,” Miguel breathes out. “Yes. Please show them to me.” He turns to look at you, his eyes filled with so many emotions - surprise, disbelief, happiness, and excitement.

“I’ll go - I’m going to wait upstairs,” you say, already making the move to stand up so Miguel will have privacy to look at the photos.

“You don’t have to,” Miguel says, suddenly placing a hand on your shoulder for a few seconds, making you go still at the unexpected touch. “Stay, please.”

You stare at each other as Miguel slowly retrieves his hand. He didn’t plan nor anticipated it. It was a genuine reaction, to keep you here, with him.

“Will you?” he asks.

Nodding, you settle back down. “Yes. If you want to, I will.”

“Thank you,” he replies with a small nod. He turns to Lyla, readjusting his position. “Lyla…”

“Yes, boss?” she replies, knowing.

“Go ahead,” Miguel states, his heart racing. His fingers fiddle with the guitar’s strings, feeling nervous. As Lyla prepares, the idea sinks further. There’s more photos and videos of Gabby. All this time, there’s been more memories sitting in the system, lost but finally recovered.

“Here are the photos,” Lyla says gently as she makes a holographic screen accessible. She turns to you, giving you a small smile and a subtle thumbs up. You suppose she was thinking back to the time when she hid photos of Gabby and his wife, and how Miguel reacted then by shutting her down, but his reaction today is far different. The Miguel from then, you suspect, had done little healing. You turn to the screen after acknowledging her with a nod and a small smile, giving your full attention to Gabby.

Three seconds later, there she is. Beside you, Miguel sighs the way a parent does when looking at old photographs of their children, with nostalgia.

“Gabby,” he whispers, his gaze soft as he takes in the photo of her sitting on a living room floor, coloring books and pencils scattered over a coffee table. Her face is one of concentration as she colors, dressed in jeans and a pink shirt with her hair down.

Photo after photo, Miguel and you observe each one, drinking in the details the way you drink café de olla [coffee]. Slowly, with delicacy and love. While Miguel is thrown right back into his memories, you get more glimpses of his life with her, of that short time. You finally see a little bit more of that universe, leaving an incredible pain in you knowing these photographs and Gabby’s guitar, is basically the only evidence left that that universe once existed to begin with.

Despite that feeling, you smile as the photos progress, seeing Miguel with such a happy smile with his daughter. Your heart beats with tenderness seeing how happy they looked, sharing father and daughter moments, such as them playing dolls on her bedroom floor, a flower sticker on Miguel’s hair.

“I didn’t notice it until I was going to shower,” Miguel says with an amused smile. “She noticed it for sure but she didn’t tell me.”

You laugh softly. “She was probably wondering how long it’ll take before you realized.”

“Most likely,” Miguel agrees, shaking his head in amusement before you both turn back to look at the next photo.

Everything is fine and lighthearted inside you as more photos are displayed but your throat suddenly feels impossibly restricted when the photo changes to one of a sleeping Miguel and Gabby on her bed. An open book, abandoned, can be seen on the side. It’s clearly night time, a single lit lamp in what used to be the little girl’s bedroom while Gabby and Miguel sleep, the latter having fallen asleep at some point while reading to his daughter. Your vision becomes blurry when you spot their same sleepy faces, their mouths open just slightly, identically like father and daughter. Silently, the tears roll down your face without warning.

You don’t dare turn to look at Miguel, or even make a subtle move to wipe your tears away because you don’t wish for him to see you crying. You don’t want your tears to make him tear up, too. Inhaling gently, you attempt to swallow the painful knot in your throat and rein in your emotions, but your eyes remain fixed on the photo, on sleeping Miguel and Gabby - no worries in their minds as they peacefully sleep.

For Gabby, she’s in the comfort of her father’s arms - safe and sound, protected. For Miguel, you imagine in those moments that the multiverse didn’t exist. It was a far away concept in those moments, so far he slipped into his sleep with ease and without a fight - a high contrast to what awaited him in the future. Sleepless and long nights in his dark and empty lab due to nightmares, alone with the exception of Lyla at times. The children’s books he read to Gabby replaced with data reports pertaining to the multiverse once more by a cruel and unexpected twist of misfortune, something Miguel has been no stranger to.

Still staring at the photo, you once again wonder how different Miguel’s life would have been had Gabby’s universe not collapsed. You wonder if he’d still live there in that universe, or whether he would’ve told Gabby and his wife about his universe, have them move to Nueva York, here to his penthouse.

You wonder, if perhaps, Miguel and his wife would’ve divorced and it would’ve been Gabby and Miguel alone then.

You wonder if her room would’ve been Gabriel’s, or if Miguel would’ve done changes to the penthouse, like making the upstairs office an extra bedroom. Perhaps, on this coffee table in front of you, Gabby’s coloring books or hair ties, or something that belonged to her, could be found.

“I used to read to her every night,” Miguel says, bringing his knees close to him, resting his arms on them. “I’m so glad there’s a memory of it. That I can see her sleepy face again physically, not just in my head.” He wipes his eye using the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He sniffles quietly before he reaches with his hand, zooming in on her specifically. He traces his daughter’s face as if he were actually tracing it physically, with such tenderness and so much love. “Su carita [her little face],” he whispers. “I’d forget everything about the Spider Society at the sight of that little face. I wasn’t Spider-Man. I was just ‘papá’ or ‘daddy’ - and my biggest worry was a scraped knee during practices [papa].”

He turns to face you slowly, finally realizing you’ve been so quiet, so still. His gaze softens when you turn away as an attempt to keep him from seeing your face, the tears staining your cheeks.

“Dulzura?”

“Yeah?” you reply, clearing your throat, trying to make it seem like you’re fine.

“You don’t have to hide your tears,” Miguel says gently. “Not from me.”

With that, you turn to face him. You offer him a small smile. “I’m sorry… This photo…” you trail off, looking away to dry your damp cheeks. “You just - Your sleeping faces are the same,” you continue, chuckling softly instead of crying, even though your eyes are still tearing up. “Even the way your mouths are open just slightly.” You sniffle. “It’s so… sweet, Miguel.”

You shakily huff, drying your face with the back of your hand. You wish you could blame your emotions on something else, like your period, but it’s not even time for that yet. Your emotions are running uncontrollably purely because of Miguel and his daughter. It’s due to the tenderness of this photo and every single moment they were able to share, but knowing it wasn’t, isn’t, and never will be enough for Miguel or Gabby.

And God, you wish on everything that Gabby was here right now. You wish there was a way that time could go back, that you had the answers to the real cause for the collapse of universes. And then, you’d go back and prevent it from happening, along with every other universe that’s been lost.

“You think so?” Miguel asks, his eyes twinkling with delight hearing you say that Gabby and he share the same sleeping faces.

“Absolutely,” you reply. “It’s clear as day.”

Miguel sighs, dropping his arm. He wraps his arms around his legs and stares at the photo some more. “Thank you for saying that,” he whispers. “That makes me feel… happy. Happier.”

“Always,” you whisper back, able to look at the photo again. “This one… It would be sweet to have in your room.”

Miguel hums. “My nightstand.”

“Close to you,” you reply, nodding.

You fall into a comfortable silence, despite the emotions, and continue to observe the photo for a few more minutes before Miguel asks Lyla to display the rest. Each one is as sweet and tender as the last one, but thankfully you don’t cry anymore, or at least not as much.

“There are a few videos,” Lyla says turning to look at Miguel, talking for the first time since she shared the fact that these files exist. She’s been silently watching the two of you, glad that Miguel has you by his side while he goes through the photos - relieved that he isn’t alone today, and tomorrow, and the date afterwards. He has someone. You. “Do you wish to watch them?”

“Yes, please,” Miguel answers turning to look at Lyla before his eyes turn back to the screen.

As time goes on, Miguel and you watch the videos, all of which are of just him and Gabby. And thankfully, they’re all long videos. You watch Gabriella play fútbol in the backyard with Miguel. There’s the one Christmas they spent together, with Gabby excitedly showing Miguel new toys.

“Christmas,” Miguel says softly. “She was so excited. I did the Santa’s snow boots footprints, she was squealing with happiness when she woke up and saw them,” he shares.

You watch the video, thinking. Miguel was that kind of father, and it makes so much sense.

At last, Lyla turns to face the two of you. “This is the last one,” Lyla says softly as the screen changes before it starts.

Miguel and you both watch as the video clip begins playing, starting with Gabby on display holding her guitar and playing it. Miguel sits on a chair watching with an expression that leaves no room for question how proud he felt in that moment. Like in every video and photo, Miguel’s eyes have a special spark, one you recognize in Peter B. and MJ, Jess and her husband, and Mr. and Mrs. Morales. It’s the spark a loving, caring parent has in their eyes when looking at or talking about their child. Miguel had it around Gabby, and now it’s only visible when he talks about her, or when he looks at her photos.

A warm, gentle, and beautiful smile grazes his face as he watches and listens to Gabby expertly play the guitar at such age, a look of concentration on her sweet face. She plays a melody you don’t recognize but one she seems to know by heart, no mistakes made. She ends her playing gently, the sound pleasant to the ears before she eagerly and expectantly looks at her father, a smile that reminds you of Miguel’s, too, on her face.

“That was amazing, mija [my daughter]!” Miguel says suddenly with such energy you swear you’ve never seen in him before. “You get better and better the more you practice, eh? My little musician!”

You smile, seeing Gabby’s smile widen before she runs to her father, throwing her arms around his neck. The sight of Miguel instantly wrapping his arms around his daughter makes your heart weak. There has never been any doubt in your mind that Miguel loved, still loves, Gabby, but this interaction hits you deeply. You see the way his eyes close in content, his smile unfaltering as he hugs his daughter tightly. He’s so proud of her. He’s so loving, tender, sweet.

There’s also no doubt in your mind. Being a father suits him so much even if he once thought he wasn’t meant to. Quite the contrary, Miguel was meant to be a father.

“Now it’s your turn, daddy! You play and sing!” Gabby says excitedly, pulling back to offer Miguel the guitar.

Miguel shakes his head gently. “I think you should keep playing, mija [my daughter].”

“Please? Pretty please, daddy?” Gabby insists, puppy eyes on full display. “Sing my favorite song, please.”

And just like Miguel has told you before, he was never able to say no to Gabby when it came to healthy, harmless requests like these. He accepts the guitar.

“Just one song, and then you play again. ¿Entiendes, chiquilla [do you understand, little girl]?”

“Okay, okay! Ya se [I know], but please! I like to hear you sing, daddy,” Gabby says taking a seat in front of Miguel on the floor, watching him like he’s the center of her universe.

“Okay, okay. Ay vamos [we’re going, starting]…” Miguel says with a little sigh. “How does it start?”

“Dad!” Gabby whines with a little huff. “You know how it starts!”

“I forgot. What are the first notes, again?” Miguel asks with a sweet, playful smile that stays on his face as Gabby tells him. “Ah, okay. So… Something like this,” he says playing a few notes that earns him eager nods from Gabby. “Okay, I think I got it, mija [my daughter].” He begins to play the guitar again, the same notes Gabby was playing earlier but continuing on.

And for the first time since you’ve known Miguel, you hear him truly sing.

“Luna gardenia de plata que en mi serenata, te vuelves canción. Tú que me viste cantando, me ves hoy llorando, mi desilusión. Calles bañadas de luna que fueron la cuna de mi juventud. Vengo a cantarle a mi amada, la luna plateada de mi Xelajú…” Miguel sings with ease, his brows furrowing slightly, gazing at his daughter who smiles tenderly at her father. “En mis noches de pena, por una morena de dulce mirar,” Miguel continues singing, smiling at Gabby, nodding at her. He earns himself a sweet, happy, and toothy smile along with an applause from Gabby’s hands, and it’s so heartwarming, so sweet Miguel can’t help himself from stopping midway when he sees Gabby rise and head straight for him.

He welcomes her in his arms, laughing softly as he places the guitar down to fully embrace her like it’s the last time he’ll ever be able to. The thought breaks you. He never imagined he’d lose her - not while embracing her like that nor when he read bedtime stories to her.

“Again, daddy! This time all the song, please,” Gabby says hugging Miguel, her father.

“Okay, okay, mija [my daughter], but first we need to have dinner. C’mon, the caldo [broth] should be ready now,” Miguel says carrying her to what you assume is the kitchen. “Le agregue muchas papitas pa’ que comas. Tienes que comer pa’ que estés fuerte y sana. ¿Recuerdas? [I added a lot of potatoes so you’ll eat. You must eat so you’ll be strong and healthy. Remember?]”

“¡Y pollito [and chicken]!” Gabby says making Miguel chuckle.

“Si y mucho pollito. También zanahorias [yes and chicken. Carrots, too].”

“Eugh, no carrots, please.”

The last thing heard is Miguel’s laughter as they both disappear into the kitchen, the screen returning to the all familiar marigold color used for all screens in the Spider Society.

You chuckle softly as you remember something. “So she wasn’t fond of carrots either.”

Turning to look at you, Miguel frowns softly yet he’s amused. He remembers that evening so vividly now, how it felt to carry his daughter to the kitchen so they could check on the food. “Either?”

“Remember when you were injured last year?” you ask, which instantly reminds Miguel.

“Dios [God], that carrot was disgusting,” he says frowning deeply. “I don’t know how we didn’t throw up right there.”

Covering your mouth, you laugh, recalling the face he made that day when he tried it. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re laughing,” Miguel says raising an eyebrow, feigning disappointment and offense. “Can’t believe you made me try it.”

“I didn’t think it was actually bad,” you reply. “In my defense, I thought since it’s this dimension, and all the great resources at HQ, that the infirmary food would be top notch.”

“Mala [Meanie, feminine version in Spanish],” Miguel replies, amusement dancing in his eyes. “At least you tried it, too. So we’re even.”

“Never again.” You chuckle again. “If I ever end up there, please spare me from the carrots.”

Miguel’s amusement falters a bit. “I hope you’re never there. Not even for a minor cut, but I promise I’ll spare you from the horrible food,” he says earnestly, leaving no doubt in your mind that you’ll never taste that food. Again. “I swear.”

“Thank you,” you reply softly with a smile.

“Always. I’ll protect your food palate,” he says, amused yet again.

You both smile at each other, staying quiet for a few seconds before you speak again. “That was… Very beautiful, Miguel,” you start quietly. “Your voice. You singing to Gabby her favorite song. You made her happy, so happy.”

He nods, his smile shifting to a much tender one. “I sang it to her every time she wanted me to. It was a pure request, an easy way to make her happy. I always wanted her to be so,” Miguel shares. “And if I could make her happy in such an easy way, I would. It was also bonding for us. I never wanted to make her feel like I didn’t want to spend time with her, like she was being rejected. I wanted her to feel loved,” he adds softly. “For her to know she was deeply loved and cared for. That she didn’t need to hide anything. I wanted her to have what I…” Miguel pauses, swallowing. “What I didn’t have at her age. That unconditional love, protection, and tenderness from a parent. Constant. Not in pauses, making her wonder if she had done something wrong.”

Nodding, you sigh softly. You know about Miguel’s childhood; about the situation with his mother Conchata and his stepfather, on top of the situation with his biological father. You try not to think about it often because each time you do, anger and sadness flares up inside you for him. You hate that Miguel experienced such rejection and negligence in his early life, how it has affected him throughout the years.

You’re glad, at least, that by the end of Conchata’s life, Miguel had somewhat of a stable relationship with her, something you’ve wondered about sometimes at random times. You wonder, if time had allowed, whether Miguel and her could’ve worked on their relationship, if by now they’d have a better one, but of course, it’s fruitless to think of such moments. Conchata has been gone for several years.

Another thing you wonder is if she saw the way Miguel stepped up to the role of father and how wonderful, tender, sweet, and loving he was to Gabby from wherever she is. You wonder if she felt shame, knowing her son tried to be everything she hardly was for Gabby.

“It’s evident you did just that,” you say at last, concentrating on the now. “She was so happy, Miguel. Her laughter, her smiles - all signs of a happy, safe, and loved child.”

Miguel hums, his gaze softening at your words. “Thank you,” he whispers. “I tried my best to be a good father.” He turns his gaze towards the guitar, the lovely and bittersweet song stuck in his head. He picks it up and holds it, remembering how many times he played the song for her. His fingers glide over the stickers, thinking how it’s still her birthday.

There’s a chance her favorite song would’ve changed by now. Maybe she wouldn’t be interested in playing the guitar anymore but rather another instrument. There’s a lot of things that could’ve changed by now, truly. Maybe Gabby would’ve stopped playing fútbol. Maybe she would’ve stopped loving science.

He’ll never know now.

But maybe there’s a chance, that despite the years… “Luna de Xelajú” would still hold a special place in her tender heart. Maybe she’d appreciate her father remembering the times she asked him to play it for her, to sing her the song while gazing at her, letting her know that she was his morena de dulce mirar [his brunette, or of dark complexion, girl with a sweet gaze]. Just maybe, she’d let her old man play and sing it for her on her birthday even if she no longer begged him to sing it by wrapping her short arms around his neck, giggling and calling him daddy.

Just maybe.

Miguel clears his throat and positions his fingers. How does it start?

“You know how it starts!”

He hears Gabby’s voice in his head, even the little huff. Right. Like this. His fingers move, playing the notes for the first time since he lost his daughter. For a moment, he thinks he messed up, but no, his memory doesn’t betray him, and so his fingers move, as if they had a mind of their own.

You watch as he begins to play, familiar to your ears now thanks to the video. Your eyes remain on him, not missing even a second of this. For a moment, you wonder if you’re imagining it, but no, Miguel really is playing the guitar and playing Gabby’s song, at least the beginning of it.

You suddenly realize what he’s trying to do, just as Lyla does, too because a second later, Lyla displays a photo of Gabby, one of the new ones, for Miguel.

Miguel is going to play and sing the song for her, on her birthday.

Holding your breath, you watch Miguel lift his gaze to the screen, still playing the guitar before he begins.

“Luna gardenia de plata, que en mi serenata te vuelves canción. Tú que me viste cantando, me ves hoy llorando mi desilusión,” Miguel sings softly, staring at his daughter’s photo, his expression gentle yet with a trace of mourning and grief. “Luna de Xelajú, que supiste alumbrar, en mis noches de pena por una morena de dulce mirar,” he continues, his gaze softening and his mouth pouting.

You remain still, almost as still as a statue itself. You have heard Miguel sing before when he does so under his breath, sometimes unaware of it, but nothing compare to this. If his voice sounds beautiful in the video, it sounds angelic live. His voice travels straight to your heart.

Still playing, Miguel’s eyes fill with some tears. After so long, he’s playing and singing her song. For so long, he’s tried to not think of it, finding it to be too much for him, too soon for his grieving heart, but his very heart seems to have found today appropriate for it.

Maybe it’s another sign of him healing, Miguel doesn’t know, but he has no regrets playing it now. It feels right, so he continues, hoping that wherever Gabby is, she’s listening to him sing it at last, just for her.

“En mi vida no habrá, más cariño que tú, mi amor. Porque no eres ingrata, mi Luna de plata, luna de Xelajú. Luna que me alumbró, en mis noches de amor… [in my life there won’t be more love than you, my love. Because you’re not ungrateful, my moon of silver, moon of Xelajú. Moon that lightened me up, in my nights of love]” Miguel sings, his fingers slowing down as he pauses for a few seconds. “Hoy consuelas la pena… Por una morena… que me… Abandonó [today you console the sorrow… for a brunette, or girl of dark complexion… that… abandoned me],” he sings the end in a whisper, a single tear rolling down his face as his fingers play the last notes, finishing the song.

He lowers the guitar to his lap slowly, still gazing at Gabby’s photo. He doesn’t bother to wipe away the tear that slowly trails down his face. Instead, he lets it run its course until it sinks into his skin. Miguel inhales heavily and sighs. Something in him, so deep, settling in. It’s a certain kind of peace.

At last, several seconds later, you sigh as well. You didn’t realize you held your breath throughout the entirety of the song, but you did. You didn’t want to miss a single moment of Miguel singing to Gabby; from hearing his gentle, soothing voice.

“That was beautiful,” you whisper quietly, looking at Gabby’s photo.

Miguel smiles slowly. “Thank you,” he whispers back. “I haven’t played, sang, nor heard it since then. The last time was before I lost her. Even the simple thought of it, the melody in my head - was too much for me,” Miguel admits, gathering his thoughts. “If she was alive, I know she’d be changing. The things she once liked, maybe she wouldn’t be much into anymore. Maybe this song wouldn’t be her favorite anymore. There’s a chance… I know, but even then, before I decided to play it, I thought maybe, just maybe, from wherever she’s at, keeping me safe, she might enjoy me playing her once favorite song from down here on Earth… I hope she heard it.”

You smile softly, still staring at the photo and think about Miguel’s words. Maybe Gabby’s music taste would’ve changed by now. Perhaps “Luna de Xelajú” would no longer be her favorite song, and maybe it’s wishful thinking, but a part of you believes that Gabby would’ve loved the beautiful gesture from her dad regardless. And for some reason, you also can’t help but think that maybe she did hear it tonight.

The two flickering birthday candles from earlier come back to mind. That was rather strange. You wonder silently. Maybe the two most important people in Miguel’s life, visited him tonight in their own way.

“I have a feeling she did,” you reply softly.

Miguel turns to face you, shifting his body slightly. “You may think I’m a little bit crazy,” he starts, making you tilt your head towards him with a raised eyebrow, letting him know you don’t. He smiles a bit. “The flickering candles.”

You nod. “I was just thinking about that. Two candles,” you reply.

“Two candles,” Miguel repeats. “Gabby. Gabriel.” He smiles a bit at that. “You don’t think I’m… overthinking it? Maybe with my messed up sleep schedule, I’m just… Not making sense.”

“You’re allowed to believe that,” you state gently. “I’m never going to judge you. I had my fair share of moments in which I felt like Peter and my parents were - leaving me little signs. I also thought about them, you know.” You shift slightly to face him better. “About Gabby and Gabriel.”

Miguel smiles, his head dipping to face the floor. It’s reassuring. He straightens up to look at you again.

“I know I already said it earlier, but, I want to say I’m sorry again. For the way I behaved these last few days.”

You prepare yourself to reply but Miguel lifts his finger, stopping you.

“I don’t want to… Push you away nor make you feel like I’m trying to when I’m not. I have,” Miguel pauses, thinking about that mutual agreement between you some weeks ago.

“We do. We have each other,” Miguel said, before adding, “Always.”

“Always,” you replied.

He also thinks about how you’ve only been a part of his life for a few years. Two, to be exact. It’s a realization that for some reason feels so wrong to him. He wishes you could’ve been in his life sooner, but there’s no time machine to do that, or Miguel would’ve already used it to bring back Gabby and Gabriel. There’s no changing the past, unfortunately, but he has control over some aspects of the future, and he’s already made up his mind. You may have entered his life only two years ago, but he’ll try his absolute best to make sure you stick for the rest of his - until his last breath.

“I don’t want to ever…” he tries and clears his throat. “I don’t want to - I’d like for you - stick around.” He sighs and runs a quick hand through his hair. “I’m not trying to push you - away. Ever.”

You smile at that. “To be honest, it’s going to take a lot for you to push me away. I’m afraid… You’re stuck with me,” you say.

He laughs softly, the sound making your heart swell. “Like that’s a bad thing,” Miguel answers.

“Well… Just saying, so you don’t complain later on.”

“I could never,” Miguel replies, smiling softly.

“Lyla, I hope you recorded that,” you reply, earning yourself a chuckle from Miguel, one that makes you chuckle, too before you both settle into a comfortable silence.

The holographic screen is still available, the same photo of Gabby displayed with one of the sweetest smiles you’ve ever seen.

It’s several minutes later when Miguel breaks the silence. “Tomorrow I’m printing all the photos.” And then remembering, he adds. “Thank you, Lyla. For recovering everything. I… I had no idea there were more photos and videos. Thank you.”

“You got it, Miguel,” Lyla says, looking between him and you, happy that she was able to restore everything. “I’m heading off now. I have some things to work on. Good night.”

“Night,” Miguel replies.

“Good night,” you answer before she disappears.

“Are you tired?” Miguel asks gently.

“Not a lot,” you reply, even though last night you only slept for a few hours. You know Miguel slept even less. “You?”

He shakes his head slightly. “No. Not yet.” He picks up the guitar and plays a few strings, ones you don't recognize.

You remain by his side, letting time go by in each other’s company. Despite the emotions, the mood is lighthearted. Miguel is no longer as quiet and he even offers a few more smiles as the hours go by, smiles that actually reach his eyes.

As time slips by, you notice Miguel grow sleepier and sleepier, which is not surprising. At some point you find him nodding off, so you suggest that he goes to bed but he declines, stating he’s not sleepy yet.

Except, he is and he ends up falling asleep sitting next to you. In a matter of minutes, you grab a pillow from upstairs and your blanket before you reach him. You talk to him softly, waking him enough to talk to him.

“Lay down,” you say, watching the way he looks at you sleepily.

“Mm - no,” he replies, sleepily.

“You’ve fallen asleep. Lay down,” you try again. “Please?”

He sighs, yawning. “I wasn’t sleepy.”

You hold back from chuckling. “I totally believe you. Now, lay down. Please.”

He sighs again, all sleepy and stubborn, but finally lays down.

“Sleep,” you whisper firmly. “Rest, Migs.”

“Are you going upstairs?” he whispers sleepily, his eyes fluttering as he gazes at you, with a hint of a pout.

You smile tenderly at him, the sight of his sleepy features and voice warming your heart.

“I'm staying here,” you reply as you cover him with your blanket, wondering if the reason why he’s asking is because he'll like for you to stay.

“Mm,” he hums sleepily, satisfied with your answer. “Thank you.” He sighs softly, relaxing and settling.

“Lift your head, Miguel.”

“Mhm.” Miguel does so slightly, more asleep than awake now.

You fix the pillow behind his head, your fingers accidentally brushing the small curls on the nape of his neck including the sensitive skin there, eliciting a gentle hum from Miguel, one of contentment, of satisfaction.

You freeze for a second, the sound surprising you. After a second or two, you smile and finish fixing it, pulling the blanket higher up.

“Sleep, Migs,” you whisper tenderly.

“Mhm, dulzura,” Miguel mumbles, dozing off at last.

You take a seat next to him. The holographic screen is still available, displaying the same photo from earlier.

You get comfortable and stare at the photo, thinking about all the new ones, about the videos. You got more glimpses of Miguel's life with his daughter. More glimpses of him being a father.

Turning your attention back to Miguel and taking in all his features, you think once more.

He was meant to be a dad.

You wonder if there's a chance of him opening his heart to someone one day. Of falling in love and having a child. Or, maybe two, or three. Maybe even four.

With thoughts of the possibility of Miguel building a family with someone, you fall asleep yourself.

It's many hours later when you wake up naturally, without the need of an alarm. To your relief, you find Miguel still sleeping peacefully by your side.

Standing up, you notice his sleeping face, once again remembering how similar it is to Gabby's. You hum to yourself, heart swelling with tenderness, before deciding to make coffee.

You go through yesterday's events silently as you prepare the pot and set up the mugs, opting for some simple ones today instead of grabbing more colorful ones, like the mug you gifted Miguel for Father’s Day due to the circumstances of Gabby’s birthday. You wait patiently, remaining quiet to avoid waking up Miguel and think to yourself. You can't believe that all this time there were more photos and videos of Gabby, lost but thankfully recovered and restored by Lyla.

“Good morning,” Miguel says entering the kitchen, his voice still laced with sleep.

“Good morning,” you reply, offering Miguel a smile. “Coffee is almost ready.”

He nods before running a hand through his hair, it being a little disheveled from his sleep. His movement slows down as he vaguely remembers your fingers brushing his hair and neck, a memory that makes his cheeks feel warmer. “I could use some, muchas gracias [thank you].”

“Always,” you reply, not noticing the gentle redness on his cheeks.

He leans on the counter, still waking up and trying to gather his thoughts. He looks over at the coffee and the mugs, remembering. He moves to where the mugs are found and finds the one. It’s the one he’s been using since you gifted it to him; his mug from Father’s Day with the bees. He retrieves it and moves towards you, placing it on the counter near the two you already have out.

“My favorite,” Miguel says looking at it, still so touched by your gifts, bringing a smile to your face.

So, you serve him coffee in that mug and watch him drink it, raising the mug you made with your own hands to his lips. It’s how you also notice the bracelet you gifted him with Gabby’s name on his wrist, another sight that makes you happy. It seems Miguel really liked the gifts.

“Do you want to come with me?” Miguel asks, lowering the mug. “I’m going to the flower market.”

“If it’s alright,” you say, remembering Miguel’s plans to buy flowers for Gabby to place on the altar. “I’d like to.”

Miguel nods. “I’d like for you to come.”

After drinking your mugs of coffee in peace, you both get ready and dress in civilians clothes. For the second time, you borrow the simple holographic suit Miguel allowed you to borrow months ago when your apartment building caught on fire and your suit was dirty and smelling of smoke.

You both slip out of the penthouse and swing through the city before most of the people of Nueva York are awake, before the city is truly buzzing with life. On an alleyway, you both deactivate the suits and step out onto the street wearing your normal clothes to search through the flower market.

You walk around side by side, admiring the different types of flowers available, trying to find the perfect ones for Gabby. You eventually find bouquets that seem to attract both of you; a lovely combination of white and lilac flowers. Together, you choose the best bouquet out of the bunch before continuing to walk around. Despite your mission being accomplished, it seems Miguel is in no rush to leave.

As you both continue to walk around, his gaze turns to you, noticing the way you eye certain flowers with glee and interest. You even stop at certain displays to take a closer look, so Miguel stops to look at them with you, sticking by your side while holding the bouquet he’s already bought.

His brows shoot up when he sees the owner, an older lady, of the display talk to you, inviting you to see further in the back when you stop on theirs.

You shoot him an apologetic smile as the woman enthusiastically talks to you about other options, so he smiles back with a look that lets you know that it’s okay.

“Mujeres. ¿Verdad? [Women. Right?]”

Miguel turns, a little startled by the sudden voice. He finds a man, a much older one.

“¿Disculpe? [Sorry?]” Miguel replies, towering over the man.

“Mujeres divinas. ¿Que haríamos sin ellas? Hermosas. Y mira como les encantan las flores [Divine women. What would we do without them? Beautiful. And look how much they love flowers],” the man says with a smile. “Parece que ya le llevas un arreglo pero le gustan mucho las flores. Así esta mi esposa [looks like you already have an arrangement (bouquet )but she likes flowers. That’s how my wife is],” he says, nodding to the owner. Miguel quickly realizes the owner is the man’s wife. “You know, she pointed you guys out from the little early crowd.”

Miguel clears his throat, looking down at the bouquet of flowers. His mind immediately puts together what the man is insinuating, or rather what he believes.

“She did?” Miguel questions.

“She said that was us thirty-five years ago.”

“Oh,” Miguel says simply for a moment, struck by the fact that two more people have confused him and you for a couple in two weeks, remembering the lady from the grocery store. “We’re… just friends. Best friends.”

The man laughs as his wife and you walk back to them, talking. “That’s how my wife and I started. Friendship is one of the most essential foundations for a blissful and long marriage, mijo [my son]. Take it from me. Thirty-two years of marriage, three kids later. Something to think about, eh? Take care, mijo, and take care of that one, too,” the man says nodding at Miguel and then at you before he withdraws to meet his wife, leaving Miguel speechless.

He watches as the couple talk to you a bit more before finally letting you free. You join his side a few seconds later, smiling.

“Sorry, Mrs. Gonzalez wanted to show me other flowers she has in the back,” you say.

“You learned her name,” Miguel states.

“She introduced herself,” you reply with a shrug. “She was very excited about showing me some flowers. I couldn’t say no.”

“Did you like them?” he asks.

“They were lovely,” you answer, looking at a certain bouquet that caught your eye.

He nods and before you can say anything, he talks to the owners in Spanish.

“Me quiero llevar uno de esos arreglos, por favor. ¿Cuanto es? [I want to take one of those bouquets, please. How much?]”

You watch as the transaction is quickly made between Miguel and Mr. Gonzalez, the latter whispering something to Miguel that you can’t catch.

“¡Gracias, tenga un buen día, don [Thank you, have a good day, sir]!” Miguel says before walking back to you. He hands you the bouquet. “For… you. I noticed you eyeing these.”

You accept them. “Yes, these….” you reply, looking at them and feeling a little awestruck by the fact that you’re suddenly holding a bouquet of flowers bought by Miguel for you. “Thank you. I’ll pay you back. Maybe with some snacks from my universe,” you add at last, moving past the awe, as you both begin to walk.

“No paying back,” Miguel answers as he looks ahead, his tone being one that leaves no room for you argue about it. “It’s… a gift. Look, food trucks. Do you want some breakfast?” Miguel offers, changing the subject, and nodding at the food trucks as you both exit the flower market.

You end up having breakfast on some wooden picnic table under a large umbrella to shield yourselves from the sun since it’s summer now. You talk with ease, the tension from the last few days gone, at last. You both watch as the area quickly fills with more and more citizens from Nueva York, the city coming back to full life.

Instead of swinging back home in your suits, Miguel and you silently agree to walk on the way back. He carries both bouquets of flowers in his arms since he insisted on doing so before you left the picnic table. Together, you walk home, sticking by each other’s side like glue, with Miguel walking closest to the street, keeping you on the inside of the sidewalk.

Once you return home, Miguel and you head to the office room. There, you watch Miguel inject himself with that neon serum you now know about. He looks at you sheepishly as he does so.

“I forgot about it,” Miguel says placing the device down, a glow passing through his crimson eyes.

“It's understandable,” you reply, glad that Miguel is in a different mindset and taking care of this.

With that, you help Miguel print the new photos of Gabby. He makes extra copies for backup purposes, storing them in his personal home computer and multiple USB flashes, or some version of them since they look different in this dimension.

Miguel also retrieves the vase he mentioned the night before and at last, he has everything to set up his little altar for Gabby.

As he places one of the photos in the picture frame, you open the bouquet of flowers he bought for her and arrange it in his mom's vase.

When everything is ready, and the surface has been cleaned properly, you both approach the console table with the items. You stand by, holding the vase, and let Miguel work at his pace.

The photo is placed first and then the vase with pretty and fresh flowers. Miguel retrieves the guitar from where he left it last night and carefully places it next to the console table, taking a few moments to look at it.

He’s glad that it's not hidden away anymore, that he'll be able to look at it every day now. At last, he places a candle and lights it, completing the altar for now. Maybe in the future he'll change something, but right now, it's perfect.

The altar is beautiful. You love the fact that Miguel has added Gabby’s guitar, the flowers that bring such a lovely energy to the living room, but most of all, you love seeing Gabby’s photo on the console table.

And so does Miguel.

You both stand in front of the console table for several minutes, simply admiring and thinking about her in silence.

A while later, you both sit on the rooftop of Miguel’s building, peacefully. You remember that it’s a work day and that both Miguel and you are technically “late” to work by now, but you say nothing. You’re certain Miguel already knows what time it is, and that if he wanted to, both of you would’ve already been there. It seems he’s okay with being late today.

He gazes at the sky, at the soft cloud formations, thinking and unworried about making it to HQ. He trusts that the rest of the team can handle the tasks, just a few more hours, without either of you.

After some time of peaceful silence, Miguel remembers.

“How’s reconstruction going for your building?” he asks.

“It’s almost done. I think in a week or two, we should get the okay to move back in.”

Miguel almost frowns, but he keeps the same look on his face. A week or two. His chest feels heavy all of a sudden and he wonders where time went.

“That’s… Good for the building, and everyone,” Miguel forces himself to say. Sure, he’s glad that everyone will be able to go back, that you’ll have your apartment once again - the one you love so much. Hell, even he misses the comfort and coziness from it, but… Why does the idea hurt him more than he thought it would?

He gulps. In a week or two you’ll be gone, back to your universe. He places his hand on the rooftop’s ground, accidentally brushing his fingers against yours.

“Sorry,” he apologizes instantly, worried he may have squeezed some of your fingers with his larger hand.

“It’s alright,” you reply with a smile, keeping your hand where it was, unbothered.

Miguel places his hand near yours, both of you silent and thinking about your upcoming return to your apartment.

A part of you is happy your place will be available again and yet… You sigh softly, staring at the clouds just like Miguel.

Neither of you say anything else about it, equally avoiding further conversation regarding the matter without knowing.

“I know it’s barely time, but what if we stay here for lunch?” Miguel says after a while. “A homemade lunch.”

“That sounds great,” you reply. “What do you feel like eating?”

“Hmm,” Miguel hums, thinking. “What are you up to?”

You laugh. “I’m up for anything.”

“That narrows it down a lot, thank you,” Miguel says sarcastically with a soft smirk.

“Happy to help,” you reply with your own little smirk.

God, he’s going to miss having you here, Miguel suddenly thinks. He forces himself to not think of that. Not again today. He clears his throat. “Let’s head back. It’s growing hotter. We can think inside of what to cook.”

You both slip back inside the penthouse, into the cool air.

“Maybe we can make some chilaquiles [Mexican dish]?” you offer, now in the living room.

“That’s an idea,” Miguel replies as you both stop in front of Gabby’s altar once more.

You both stare at it, the candle still on.

Slowly, you offer your pinky finger. A second later without hesitation, Miguel wraps his around yours.

“Thank you for sticking around,” he says quietly. “Despite my mood.”

“Always,” you reply. “No matter what.”

Miguel gives your pinky a hug with his own. “Always.”

A minute later, you both head to the kitchen to start prepping lunch, splitting up tasks to finish sooner, leaving Gabby’s altar in the living room.

The candle’s flame flickers and dances, peacefully.

A/N: It's here!! The way life kept holding me back from writing this chapter?? But it's finally here :) I loved writing this one so much (I've loved writing every single chapter lets be real) but I've been planning the concept of you helping Miguel celebrate Gabby's birthday since part 3 when we first learned Miguel doesn't celebrate birthdays but instead, makes an ofrenda for his deceased loved ones. Can't believe we're already on part 17, or that we're even on a part 17 to begin with!

I'm going to make this as quick as possible because you've already given my fic and me so much time of your day/night, so... Some of you may or may not know but this month (July) will make one year since I started writing this story and writing fanfic again in general after several years. To be specific, I posted the first chapter on July 29th. 🥺

I seriously doubt that I'll have the next chapter by then, so I just wanted to take the time today to give you guys a huge THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart 🥹❤️ I say it again, and again, and again, but the support this story and my writing has received since I started writing fanfic again truly means so much to me!! I know I also say this a lot, but I genuinely didn't think many people would be interested to read this fanfic that initially was planned out to be only 3 or 4 parts long (lol). Almost a year later, I'm still writing and this story has turned into something so much more than I planned - so much bigger - thanks to you!! All the comments, the asks, the fanart, and you lovely people I get to interact with ... Wow!!! Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd be back to writing fanfiction, much less have it be received and loved so much!! 🥹

Special thank you to every single artist who has created fanart of Nonviolent Communication!! If you read this, I hope you know that you've made me so incredibly happy, blessed, grateful, honored, and so much more - to see such beautiful art inspired by my fic. Each time a fanart has been posted, I've screamed and cried out of excitement, and that's not exaggeration. I am beyond thankful to have the privilege of saying there's fanart for something I've written (sometimes I'm still like "no way" fr). God - my hands are shaking rn and my chest feels fuzzy. I'm a bit emotional lol, sorry, but THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! One day I may stop writing (I hope not) but please know I'm always going to cherish all the fanart (which is all saved in my computer and phone, and now tablet because it's that important to me)!!!!! 😭

I'm gonna end it here because as usual, I'm yapping in the author's note and also the tears are coming🫣 but please know, this means so much to me, and ily guys!!! Thank you for inspiring me to write for our fav Spider-Man, Miguel❤️

To celebrate a year, I'll be posting something regarding opening writing requests (for the first time) over the next week, so if you're interested, keep an eye out for my posts. I was trying to come up with something more exciting but that's all I could think of to celebrate!🤣

That's all. Thank you so much for reading again, and ily guys!! Take care!!

And for old time's sake, I still love Miguel O'Hara (even more)!!🥹

Alondra❤️

P.S. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

taglist: @loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp

@rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze @yujyujj @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea @moonsua1 @darksidescorner @geminis93 @1800-get-alife @hrrtkreuz @oharasfilipinawife @dropyoursocksandgrabyourcrocss @may4ri @t4naiis @f1-hoff @llumetrii

[laurfilijames]

Worst Way

Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Mention of mutual masturbation/video call sex. Unprotected intercourse. Will in that polo shirt.

Summary: Will comes home from doing a stint of talks and his only priority is getting his fill of you, your time apart making him need you in the worst way.

A/N: I've been listening to this song on repeat and needed to write about it, and the character I felt that fit it the best was our Captain Miller. We'll consider this a little early birthday treat to myself, I was going to wait until Tuesday to post it but I'm too excited! A big thank you to @spaghettificationandpretzels for making me the beautiful banners to use!

---

In the grand scheme of things, five days was a blink compared to the amount of days he’d been away from you before, but as he drew closer to being home, Will’s impatience to get there was becoming nearly unbearable.

He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, the leather feeling cool to his palm that was hot from his eagerness and holding it in the same spot for too long now, glancing at his watch on his wrist where he calculated he had exactly two hours and fifty-three minutes left until he would pull in the driveway.

Each day had been the same; driving from base to base all along the coast from Tampa to Houston, waking up in an uncomfortable motel bed he tried hard not to think about how many other people had laid in doing god knows what, and giving his memorized speech to a different room full of candidates considering signing on to be part of the Special Forces.

It was all automatic by now, having said the same words one hundred and ninety-two times, his mind able to drift off to what you were doing as he spoke without a second thought, wondering if you were making coffee in the kitchen wearing just his hoodie and your underwear, or if you were cleaning the house, feeling jealous of your fingers grazing over every surface and all the belongings that made up your home.

He imagined your smile; greeting the cashier warmly as you placed groceries onto the belt from the cart, grinning as you said thank you to the older gentleman who held the door open for you as you left the store, and knowing he was so close to seeing it for himself again kept him hanging on to get through each long day without you.

Late night video calls and texts sent between lectures helped carry him through, feeling grateful to at least have that compared to what little communication he would have when he was deployed, a crooked grin tugging his lip up as he thought to your last video call from the night before; both of you laying naked in your separate beds, touching yourselves in ways that were instructed by the other, the sounds of your moans brought on by your own hand still repeating in Will’s mind now.

He adjusted in his seat, his right foot pressing on the accelerator with slightly more pressure, the need to get home and have you increasing to a level he couldn’t tolerate anymore than he already had.

Rain started speckling on the windshield, a few drops at first before turning into a steady fall, the streams of it on the glass reminding him of all the showers you had solo in his absence, feeling envious of the water running down your skin and every curve, imagining you slipping into your bedsheets with drops still clinging to you and marking the cotton with darker spots.

Will wondered if it was raining at home, too, if you were sitting on the porch watching it pour, always loving the sound of the rolling thunder and the tapping of each drop on the roof, or if the skies were clear as the sun started to go down, picturing the pinkish-orange light casting on your skin to make it glow in its golden hour.

With a sigh, he rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, accepting that no matter how much he continued to dream about you, it wouldn’t bring him any closer to home any faster, accepting that he had to live through each of these minutes in full until he was able to have his hands on you again.

With the sun now tucked behind the horizon and the ground saturated with water, Will slammed the door to his truck, leaving his bags in the back seat to get tomorrow, nothing more important than getting inside the house and getting his hands on you.

His boots ground against the wet pavement as he took purposeful strides to reach the front door, quickly inserting the key into the deadbolt and unlocking it, the smell of home and of you filling his nose as soon as he turned the handle and stepped inside.

Before he could close the door behind him, you walked around the corner from the hallway leading to your bedroom, your smile making his heart leap in his chest as you locked eyes with him.

You rushed into his arms, your body warm and soft, the feel of your hands carding up his back making goosebumps break out on his skin. You both peeled away from each other slightly, exchanging a look that spoke more than words could before crashing your lips together, a shared moan transferring between your mouths as the desperation you both felt finally set in.

Will kicked the door shut with his foot, making it slam so hard the walls shook, his hands tearing to get to your form that was covered by an oversized t-shirt and quickly discovering that was all you had on.

He growled against your lips, his hands squeezing your bare ass and spreading your cheeks slightly, feeling you press your hips forward into his in a silent request for more.

Your chest rubbed against his body, the tight fit of his polo allowing him to feel how hard your nipples were through both of your shirts, your arousal clearly having built up as much as his had in anticipation of his arrival.

He felt drunk with lust, his senses working primally as everything about you made him feral, your scent and touch breaking him down to be nothing more than a man who needed his woman in the most raw and cardinal way.

Will grabbed at the hem of your shirt and ripped it up and off of you, his hand gripping your jawline when he met you in another claiming kiss, hearing your breathy moan die out in his mouth.

He forced himself to stop, his chest heaving as he broke the seal of your lips, seeing yours already puffy from his beard chafing against them and wet from his kiss.

You looked heavenly standing before him; naked and stunning, equally as vulnerable as you were strong, your frame small in the shadow of his. But what made him feel powerful was the love and lust held in your eyes, your heavy gaze consenting for him to take you how he needed, knowing you craved him as much as he did you as you shifted on the spot you stood, squeezing your thighs together while arching your back so your chest stook out.

A crooked, half-smile dressed his lips as he took a step toward you again, backing you up against the wall and shoving his thigh between your legs, watching with complete satisfaction as you closed your eyes at the feel of your bare sex contacting the rough denim of his jeans.

He dipped his head and latched onto your neck, sucking and nipping at your tender skin, making you squirm against him and begin to ride his thigh, his hand slapping the painted drywall beside your head.

His fingers dug into the flesh on your hips with his other hand, clawing at you in a way he knew might leave bruises but that you also loved, aiding your movements on him as you ground back and forth.

“Will…” you whined, his name the only word uttered between you so far, the sound of it coming off your tongue so desperately in combination with how your hands clawed at his shoulders encouraging him to kiss your neck even more and press his leg up harder against your core.

His mouth traveled upward along your throat and under your chin, pulling your earlobe with his teeth before making his way back to your lips, growling when your hands ran over his straining cock in his jeans and then tugged at his shirt to untuck it from his waist.

He lifted his arms for you to whisk it over his head, returning to your mouth instantly while your soft hands smoothed over his bare chest, his skin feeling like it was lit on fire wherever your palms had laid.

You worked next on his belt, the sound of the metal clanking undone and then his zipper sliding open almost lost in the wet smack of your lips, your fingers sliding behind his back to pull his jeans along with his boxer-briefs down over his ass. They fell at his feet and he stepped out of them as quickly as he could, holding your face in his hands to try to keep you near him, but feeling you sink away from him as you dropped to your knees.

The look in your eyes as you stared up at him made his cock throb even more, and when you took it in your hand and stroked it while bringing your lips to the tip, he knew he couldn’t go a second longer without being inside you, having you take him in your mouth not even enough to sate his need.

Will knelt in front of you, grabbing your face again as he kissed you hard, leaning his body forward to guide you back to lay you down beneath him.

Spread out beautifully for him, he covered you, his cock finding your entrance without assistance, and with the slight movement of his hips, he pushed inside your wet hole and stretched you out.

Your cry was suffocated by his tongue, your back arching off the floor as you succumbed to his size, and Will allowed no time for you to adjust, pulling out of you before slamming back in again.

His thrusts were powerful and unbroken, determined to give you everything you needed while taking from you everything he could, his pleasure controlling all of him and blinding any restraint he had left.

You met him with equal fervor, rolling your hips with his with a similar goal in mind, chasing what only he could provide you, feeling you get wetter by the second and already soaking his dick and groin.

Will held onto you tight, nearing his end, his hands grabbing at any part of you he was able to keep you as close to him as he could while he hammered into you, your cunt clenching around him in a way he knew that signalled you were about to come apart too.

Your nails scratched his back wildly, muscles tensing and straining in both of your bodies as you rode through your climaxes, Will continuing to pump in and out of you frantically as he coated your walls and filled you completely.

Feeling you contract around him again, he didn’t relent, fucking you more with all he had left as a second orgasm took hold of you, the feel of his cum leaking out of you extending your high in the most addicting way.

His panting breaths filled your mouth as your kisses began to slow, feeling you relax under him as he settled his pace until he eventually stilled in you, his hand smoothing over your forehead where he looked at you smiling sweetly at him after he’d peeled his face away from yours.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he purred, finally giving you a proper greeting.

You giggled softly, your finger tracing the crease beside his mouth. “Welcome home, Will.”

---

Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls

@littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90

@paintlavillered @casa-boiardi @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @justreblogginfics

@spaghettificationandpretzels @whatever-lmaoo @steviebbboi

[alotofpockets]

A fluffy meet-cute | Steph Catley x Reader

Where you meet Steph after Calvin nearly runs you over

A/n: Happiest of birthdays to @totaly-obsessed 💗

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.2k

-----

It was the first sunny day of the year, which meant that along with the rest of London, you were enjoying it while it lasted. With a small picnic blanket, a book, and your bottle of water, you headed to the park. You weren't surprised to see many people had the same idea as you, which you actually thought was quite nice. 

Not only did the weather give the summery vibes you had been longing for, your surroundings were as well. Kids were playing together and dogs were running around. Some people were chatting and others were reading like you were, or just simply enjoying nature.

After reading a couple chapters of your book in the warm sun, you deemed it time for a little water break. With the book down, your surroundings come back alive. The bustling joy still ever present, this was exactly what you needed after this spell of bad weather.

While in the middle of a sip of water, you see a blur of golden fur charging your way from the corner of your eye. Before you can even respond to the fast approaching animal, your water goes flying everywhere. 

The dog couldn't care less for getting your shirt soaking wet, he just started drinking the water that was now pooling on the ground where the open bottle had fallen.

You put the bottle back up, hoping to save at least some water for later. “Hey fluffy boy, you must've been so thirsty.” He looks up at the sound of your voice, and excitedly jumps up and down in front of you before going in for a cuddle. 

The dog was rather large, but didn't seem to know his own size as he plopped down on your lap. You gave him a couple pets, before his owner came running your way. “Calvin, what did you do?” The woman gasps as she sees your soaked t-shirt and water all around you. “I am so sorry.” She says, this time to you.

When you look at the dog still in your lap, you can’t help but smile. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Calvin is a sweetheart and my shirt will dry soon enough.” The girl visibly relaxes, glad you’re not mad. “Yeah, it’s not often that the London weather will get you to say that.” She laughs. “I’m Steph by the way.” You can’t help but notice the girl’s accent and realise she isn’t from around here. “I’m y/n. Have you been in London long?” 

“The accent still gives it away then.” She laughs. “Yeah, I’ve lived here for a couple of years, but I’m from Australia.” Calvin had fallen asleep in your lap in the short time that Steph had stood besides your blanket. “Do you want to sit with me for a bit? I would love to hear what brought you to London, and it seems like Calvin is down.”

Steph’s face lights up, “Yeah, I’d love to.” She sits down on the opposite end of your picnic blanket, and gives her dog a quick scratch behind his ears. “So, what made you trade the sunny beaches of Australia for the unpredictable weather that London has to offer?”

“Well, work actually brought me here. I play football professionally and was offered a contract to play at Arsenal. Before that I played in the US, so I had parted with the Aussie beaches for a bit before that.” You listened to her intently, loving getting to know her. “That’s so cool! Do you play for the Australian national team too then?” Her face beamed with pride, and you knew the answer just from that. “Yeah, I will actually get to captain the team to the Olympics this summer.” 

“What? No way! That must feel like such an honour.” She smiles and nods, “Yeah it really is, but enough about me. Tell me about you. Has London always been home?” You start telling her a bit about yourself, and enjoy the time spent getting to know Steph.

A bit further into the park, Steph’s friends wondered what was taking so long. “I’ll go take a look.” Beth said, “Come on Myle, let’s go find Calvin and Steffy.” The dog ran off sniffing her surroundings, and Beth followed along. 

When Beth spotted Steph talking to you and Calvin peacefully lying in your lap, she smiled to herself. She didn’t want to interrupt the moment you two seemed to be having, but Myle seemed to have a different plan as she ran into Steph’s lap. 

“Oh hi Myle girl, where did you come from?” She says petting her. “Is she your dog as well?” Steph shook her head. “No, just Calvin. Myle is my friend’s Beth and Viv’s, us and a couple other girls from the team went to the park together.” 

“She’s very cute, I hope I am not keeping you away from your friend’s.” Steph shakes her head quickly, “Oh no, I’ve been enjoying getting to know you a lot. Plus they have each other, I’ll see them again later.” 

Beth realised that Myle was just as content as Calvin was on the picnic blanket, so she turned back around. “I thought you were going out to find Steph and Calvin, how are you coming back without them and now missing Myle too?” Jordan asked. 

“Oh I found them.” She plops down next to her friends. “Calvin is playing matchmaker. He was fast asleep on this girl’s lap, and Steph was sitting with her deep in conversation.” They all thought it was very cute and were rooting for you. “Wait, that doesn’t explain the missing Myle.” Alessia realises. “Myle wanted to join in on the fun and jumped into Steph’s lap.” 

You had talked to Steph for so long that your shirt was now all dry again, yet you didn’t even notice cause you were too deep into conversation with her. It wasn’t until a group of girls approached you that Steph looked away from you for the first time that she had sat down. “Oh hi girls, this is y/n. Y/n, these are Beth, Viv, Jordan, and Alessia, the girls I told you about.” You wave at them, while they are all looking between the two of you with smirks on their faces. 

Viv is the first to speak up. “It’s very nice to meet you, y/n. We were gonna head down the road to get some coffee, would you want to join us?” You looked over to Steph to see if she would be okay with it, and the hopeful look in her eyes told you enough. “I’d love to, thank you for the invite.”

You found a table outside to keep enjoying the sunny day, and enjoyed your coffee whilst getting to know Steph’s friends. With the coffee order were also two puppuccino’s which the dogs were thoroughly enjoying as the whipped cream covered their chins. 

From start to finish, it had been the perfect day. Before you said your goodbye’s, Steph asked if she could see you again, so you exchanged numbers. You couldn’t wait to see her again after the wonderful time you had had together. 

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

[littlegodzilla]

Well I heard someone might be a little down in the dumps today. It's been a while since I've posted anything here, but I wanted to do a little something to make you feel better.

I hope you like it

************

I can try.

Daryl Dixon x Fem Reader.

One shot.

@celtic-crossbow birthday present.

Warnings: M. Friends to lovers. Smut.

Words: 10k.

Summary: You and Daryl are good friends, but sometimes is good to try new things.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No. Stop... wait..." You gasp with a frown. "Stop, stop."

"What's wrong?"

"That I can't... I can't."

"What?"

"It's not going to work...I'm going home." You push his hands away from you, getting up from the bed, reaching for your clothes.

"But what's wrong with you? I thought you..."

"Yes, I wanted to, but you've been looking for my spot for fifteen minutes... it's not going to go well, I'd better go." You shake your head getting dressed.

"But don't leave me like this! At least let me finish."

"Use your hands, like I'm going to do when I get home." You tell him and quickly leave the room.

"You're such a bitch!"

You hurry out of the house, adjusting your jacket to your body, the weather is still nice, but the nights are starting to get cold. Your feet move fast towards home, you want to get home as soon as possible and get into bed, you'd even like to disappear if possible.

Things have changed. A lot if you stop to think about it. Alexandria has changed for a few years now, after the Wolves, the hordes of Walkers, The Whisperers and some Communities that tried to take over yours, but finally Alexandria is safe and you all live in tranquility, or at least what this new world allows you. Since then, since you have settled there, you have allowed yourself to free yourself a little, of course there will always be guards to keep, to go out for supplies, to fight, but when all is quiet, you allow yourself to be who you were before. You spend days on the porch or in the garden, reading, watching the clouds move, you help in the fields, with the animals, you teach the children, who are more and more in the community. You have boyfriends. You have sex, arguments, breakups. It almost feels like your old life, but something is not right now.

You have been dating Nathan for a few months now, thanks to Deanna you have a new calendar and the days don't go on forever. You've been going out with him for a while now, he's nice, you get along well, you have fun... but in bed you don't quite click. It's frustrating and a bit embarrassing, you've been running away like a rat, but you'd rather cut the relationship before things get even more strained.

You get home. You're going to spend a few days at Rick and Michonne's house, the last storm that hit Alexandria washed away part of the roof of your house, now you entertain yourself in the morning to fix it with the help of other colleagues, but you still have for a few days. You close the door with some violence, your anger coming out.

"Dun be so noisy. There’re children sleepin’." You hear a voice in the darkness.

"Fuck, Daryl!" you jump, holding a hand to your chest. "What the fuck are you doing in the dark?"

"I've just come up now." He says turning on a small light in the dining room. "Rick and I are gonna out fer  few days."

"Well turn on the light, you could kill someone with a heart attack." You growl, looking sideways at him, he shakes his head.

"Sorry." He apologizes, you can feel his gaze running up and down you, making you nervous. "Bad night?"

"Frustrating." You reply in a curt tone, making it clear you don't want to talk about it. "Where are you going?" You'd rather change the subject. You know Rick doesn't get out of the community much since RJ was born helping Michonne with whatever she needs.

"Dunno. Not too far. Maybe a couple of days, no more than a week." he answers your question, shaking out his backpack a bit, rearranging the things inside. "Back Rick wants to go to Hiltop, need anythin’ from there?" he wants to know, you stand for a moment thoughtfully and gesture to him.

"Wait." You nod and trying not to make any noise, you go up to your room, coming down shortly after. "Here, give it to Maggie, please." You hand him a small letter. He looks at it, but nods, tucking it into his vest pocket. "Thank you. Have a safe trip and be safe." You ask.

"A'right. Night."

"Good night." You whisper looking at him again and go up to your room.

You've been traveling with Rick's group since they showed up by the Greene farm where you too had taken refuge after your parents were bitten and Hershel locked them in the barn. Your first impression with Rick Grimes' group was rough and wild, but you will never regret following him after that, thanks to him you had a real home in the prison, thanks to him you were still alive, thanks to him you now have this community, you are safe and happy. They are your family now and you know you can trust them, Maggie, Tara, Michonne, Rosita, they are your friends you can vent to, Carol sometimes acts more like a mother and that's not much older than you, but it's her instinct above all else. Carl and Sophia are little siblings to all of you, as are Judith and RJ. 

You lie in bed, curling up, feeling your body pulse, the heat coursing under your skin, but you ignore it, your head dull, the anger still lingering. You close your eyes and try to sleep.

"Good morning." Michonne greets you that morning, carrying little RJ in her arms.

"Good morning." You greet her by putting the coffee pot on the stove for breakfast the two of you. "Hey, shorty." You touch his nose and smile looking at Michonne out of the corner of your eye. "Quiet night?"

"Until Rick left...I think he feels it, he's been restless after that." She tells you, tucking the child into her arms.

"Daryl told me it wouldn't be many days, they'll stop by Hiltop when they get back." You tell her, she nods and sighs.

"Sometimes I miss getting out and exploring the world."

"Me too, you can leave the little one with Rosita or Carol, for a few hours I don't think they'll mind."

"I know, but now I have the constant fear of... not coming back." She whispers and you look at her pityingly. 

"Hey that's not going to happen, you're our samurai, no one can take you." You joke and she laughs low, chuckling. "Sit down, I've made breakfast."

"Thanks. If you keep this up I don't know if I'll let you go home." She jokes too. "Speaking of which, you came early last night, usually when you meet Nathan..."

"Yeah, well... we broke up..."

"Broke up? Why, what happened?" she sets RJ down in his highchair accepting the coffee you hand him. 

"It wasn't working... we didn't quite click..." You explain on top of it, but start to explain more when she prods you a little.

"You know Nathan is going to get hysterical, they're going to say a lot of bullshit..."

"I don't care, at the end of the day I took off leaving him halfway through." You shrug your shoulders as you braid your hair into a braid.

"If you see him get too nervous, we can get him to shut up."

"Don't worry, Michonne, I'll manage." 

After breakfast, you leave the Rick family's house, to go to work in the fields and with the animals, that afternoon you have guard duty too, it's going to be a long day, but at least it will help you to keep your head busy.

The whispers, gossip and looks soon spread through the community. Nathan, completely pissed off with you, goes out of his way to make it clear to every man in Alexandria that you are a slut. You try not to make a big deal out of it, but two weeks have passed and your neediness continues to grow and no one pays any attention to you, which makes the situation more frustrating

Daryl and Rick have been back from patrol for a week now, they've brought some people with them, they've made new deals with other communities that are starting to expand, they've even brought more supplies. They are at the bar that opened a year ago having a home brew, it's not great, but it's drinkable. Abraham, Eugene and Glenn are with them.

"We're expanding the southern part of the community." Rick explains to Glenn since he hasn't been around for a while. "We're opening up the walls bit by bit, keeping an eye on the hordes of Walkers and slowly moving the houses out of the compound."

"That's a good idea, we're expanding the farming area too, there are more and more of us and the houses are getting too small."

"If ya guys need help with construction we can form a posse." Daryl says as Abraham nods.

"Thanks, I'll talk to Maggie and Jesus." He nods grateful for the support of those who have always been his family.

"I tell you guys don't let that bitch fool you." They hear talking from another table. "She dried up and took off." He growls again. Daryl frowns.

"Who are they talking about?" Glenn asks curiously and Eugene snorts saying your name. Daryl's blue gaze bores into him.

"Apparently they had a relationship. But the thing didn't work out. They broke it off and he's running around talking all kinds of shit." He keeps talking, this time Abraham. "I've threatened to smash his face in, but he won't fucking listen to me." Daryl sees the anger under the ginger mustache.

"I'll have to go talk to him myself." Rick snaps tongue in annoyance.

"Hey, Nathan." Daryl raises his voice and almost the entire bar falls silent. "Why dun ya keep yer voice down?"

"What do you say, Dixon?" he replies, rising from his stool. Rick and the others tense up, but Daryl remains calm.

"That yer talkin’ shit ‘bout someone who ain't here and can't defend herself." He turns his head to look at him. "Besides, it's bullshit."

"And what the fuck do you know?" he roars, but Daryl doesn't flinch.

"I know ‘cause I've been with her too." His companions' eyes widen so wide they look like they're going to pop out of their sockets. "Ya should stop sayin’ she's a slut, maybe ya weren't able to touch her like she deserved." He spits at Nathan with a growl at the end of the sentence.

"And you do, redneck? Since when do you know what a pussy is?"

"Better than ya, like I see." He replies and when the man wants to pounce on him, the bar owner grabs him and pulls him out of there by force.

"Have you slept with her?" Abraham asks unable to contain himself any longer.

"Nah." He shakes his head, drinking from his beer.

"And why the fuck did you tell her that?"

"To get him to stop sayin’ that shit about her."

"But now they'll think she's your girlfriend." Rick tries to understand. "That's not going to get any guy to want to be with her again." Daryl gives them all a sidelong glance, and goes back to drinking from his beer.

"She's gonna be pissed." Eugene says what they're all thinking. "It's not like she's flirting with the men in this community all day, but she has her needs. Just like everyone else." Eugene says again. Daryl gives them a sidelong glance, but shrugs it off as unimportant.

It's frustrating. And you're pissed off. You don't know what's wrong with the men in the community, but they all avoid you like you're cursed, have a fatal disease, or worse. You don't need a steady partner either, but maybe you do need someone to give you some fucking affection.

"Is it that you guys are avoiding me or what's going on?" you growl when another fellow member waves at you from afar, but he looks scared.

"No, it's just... we don't want any trouble."

"Trouble about what? Hey if it's about Nathan, I understand being pissed, but that's only ever happened to me with him..."

"No, it's not about that, Daryl already said he had a big mouth."

"Daryl? I-I don't understand..."

"You're his girl, he said so. I'll pass on Dixon having me in his crosshairs."

You're speechless, you can't even defend yourself from what he just said before he walks away. What  Daryl talked to them? That you're his girl? What's that all about? You don't understand anything. Yet as the pieces start to fall into place, your brow furrows, your cheeks flush as anger bubbles under your skin. You emerge from the bar almost like a basilisk ready to talk to the archer. You discover the motorcycle parked next to Rick's house, so you don't hesitate, you walk determinedly towards the basement door and slam it with all your might.

"Dixon, I know you're in there!" you bang on the door again. "Your bike is outside!"

You're tempted to turn around the house, go in the front door and kick down the basement door inside, but it's too late, surely the kids are already asleep. Then the door opens, Daryl looks at you confused from the other side, his hair is disheveled and his eyes are narrowed, it looks like you've woken him up. At another time you'd feel sorry for him, but you're still angry, so you walk in uninvited, crossing your arms.

"What are you doing?" You bark.

"What?" he grunts, rubbing his eyes. You realize then that he's only wearing his jeans, bare-chested and barefoot.

"What have you been going around saying?" you insist shaking your leg nervously.

"What ‘bout? The beer from the bar still has my head choking." He rubs his hair and cross his arms, hands under his armpits.

"What have you told Nathan? Or all the guys in the community? That we're boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"No. I didn't say 'girlfriend'." He shakes his head, understanding what you're saying at last. "I just shut his mouth. He was goin’ around callin’ ya slut and frigid. I just made him think the problem was his ‘cause he didn't know how to touch ya."

"That was my problem! You had no business butting in." You snort in frustration. 

"I didn't want him to keep talkin’ bout ya like that." He's not upset, that much is obvious and it stresses you out more.

"Now all the guys are ignoring me! It's like they're afraid of me. No, they're afraid of you."

"M? Ain't gonna do anything to them."

"No, but they think I'm your girl." You remind him, waving your arms nervously. "You can go to the bar and talk to them, clear it up. Tell them we broke it off or it was a shag. But we're not together anymore."

"’kay." He shrugs. "Sorry."

"Well..." You tell him going to the door again. "Anyway... thanks." You look sideways at him. "I know you just wanted to help me and I appreciate it, but I deserve it too."

"Dun think so."

"I left him half-heartedly, I got frustrated, I couldn't... no matter how much he..." You have to admit you're embarrassed to talk about this with Daryl. "So he had a right to say all those things about me." You shrug turning back towards the door.

"I can try." Daryl speaks and you stop.

"What?" you turn to look at him.

"It's frustratin’, the need, wantin’ to finish but not getting there..." He advances towards you, slowly, calculating his steps. Your eyes follow his every advance feeling goosebumps rise on your skin. "Even when yer alone in yer room, it's as if ya've suddenly forgotten how yer own body works.”

"Y-yes..." You gasp, his thumb brushing your lower lips, his blue eyes sinking into you.

"I can try..." He says again. "Maybe it was just Nathan, that he really didn't know what he was doin’."

It's possible, but you're so enraptured in his gaze that you're unable to respond. Daryl holds you by the back of the neck, his nose brushing against yours.

"I only have one condition, close yer eyes."  He whispers very close to your mouth.

You hesitate for a few seconds, not quite sure if you want to figure out how this is going to go on, but your eyes close. Seconds later, Daryl's lips are on yours, very lightly, slowly, they feel warm, but not nervous. The sensation makes you snap your eyes open, seeing Daryl staring at you. He breaks the kiss, but his hand is still holding the back of your neck.

"Close yer eyes."

"Y-Yes." You nod closing them again.

This time his mouth encompasses yours completely, his fingers closing tighter against your skin and hair, you don't hesitate to reciprocate, his lips moving against yours, his tongue entering your mouth and you moan low resting your hands on his bare chest. Daryl kisses the line of your jaw, down your neck, you throw your head back, leaning against the door. Daryl's mouth continues to run down your neck, you feel him bite against your racing pulse and you moan at the pleasure coursing through you. You close your eyes tighter, tempted to open them again to see what he's doing.

A squeak escapes your mouth as Daryl pulls you away from the door to make you walk towards his room. He pulls your shirt off, his large hands caressing your wide hips, moving down to your ass as his mouth kisses and bites your shoulder, moving down to your chest. Daryl's hands grip your ass tighter lifting you a few seconds off the floor then sitting you on his bed. Daryl kneels in front of you, his fingers brush your cheeks and lips, you can't see him because your eyes are still closed, but he smiles at you for being so obedient.

He unclasps your bra, his mouth once again running over the skin of your shoulders as he pulls down the straps of your bra before tossing it to the floor.

"Daryl..." A gasp escapes you.

His fingers grasp one of your breasts, he bites and kisses its shape before catching your nipple in his mouth, which he plays with inside his mouth, sucking, licking and nibbling at his pleasure, not neglecting your other nipple which he fiddles with between his fingers getting your head to start spinning, pleasure forming in your stomach, your body jerking. Daryl releases your nipple with a wet sucking sound, licks your skin with the gate of his tongue, from your sternum, down to your navel as he guides your body to lie on the bed. He bites your navel, licks your soft, bulging skin. His deft fingers unbuckle the belt of your pants as well as your boots quickly leaving you in your panties on his mattress. Daryl stops, giving you a little time to catch your breath, he sees you agitated, he doesn't want to make you nervous. He gets up from the floor, you are tempted to open your eyes again when you hear the sound of his belt slapping against the bedroom floor. You lick and bite your lip, waiting for what else Daryl is going to do with you. You feel his body lay down next to you, his mouth runs down your cheek and neck again, one of his arms wraps around your shoulders under your body, his other hand again caresses your belly, your hips, his fingers tighten on your thick thighs to spread your legs apart. You jerk, his hand under your neck covers your eyes as the fingers of his other hand caress your clothed pussy. You hold your breath for a few seconds, your heart racing, your skin too sensitive to his touch.

"Yer scared?"

"No..." You assure him and swallow hard.

"Anxious." He understands then, caresses your mons, slowly moving down, finding the opening of your folds, feeling the dampness of your underwear. "Needy." He kisses your cheek, your mouth, your tongues tangle in a passionate battle.

You arch your back, Daryl's fingers begin to move in circles over your clit, you spread your legs wider to give him better access, still kissing. You dare to touch him at last, one of your hands grips the back of his neck, pulling his hair slightly, your other hand holds his wrist, not stopping him, perhaps daring to guide him a little, before reaching for your breast and stimulating your own nipple. The hunter's pupils dilate, at the sight of you, his fingers on your clitoris move faster.

"Ya like this, ain't ya?" he whispers against your ear, catching that same nipple you're touching, in his mouth, you withdraw your hand, moaning louder.

"Daryl!”

You're so close, you can feel it, how the pleasure starts coursing through your whole body to pool in your lower belly, you're so close already, your eyes roll under Daryl's palm.

"No, not yet." He denies you and his fingers stop the moment.

"What?" you sound desperate, but you don't care, you were touching the best orgasm in a long time and he's denied you.

"Hold on a little." He asks you, releasing you.

Again the urge to open your eyes and say what he's thinking comes over you, but you hold tightly to the sheets as Daryl grabs your panties by the edges of the waistband. You lift your hips to help him get rid of them, the garment getting tangled around one of your ankles. Your heart races faster as you are aware of what Daryl wants to do to you and you bite your lip again.

"Nathan didn't know how to touch ya." You hear him speak. "I barely touched y’ and look how yer already." He scoffs, his fingers running along your folds.

"Don't... Don't talk about him now." You protest with a thread of a voice hearing him chuckle.

Daryl settles between your legs, spreading them a little further apart, his thumbs parting your folds watching your entrance press against nothing. When his tongue brushes your skin, hot, wet, you jump, your hips thrust against his mouth and Daryl devours you like a starving man. His tongue runs up and down your cunt, between your folds, prodding at your entrance, working its way in, he grunts and purrs at your taste, his lips close and press against your clit, sucking, pressing to heighten your pleasure. Which soon begins to swirl in your lower belly again. You close your eyes tightly, clutch the sheets between your fingers, until your knuckles turn white. Your legs jerk, in your mind you beg for it not to stop again. The air gets stuck in your lungs as one of his fingers finds its way into your core moving in and out, adding a second finger, increasing the pleasure, you spread your legs further apart, moving your hips against his hand. You feel him getting closer and closer, stronger and stronger. Daryl has no intention of stopping, but the point he's taking you to is too much.

"Daryl, wait, wait..." You moan, but you can't stop him in time.

You cum, with a long moan, in surprise and pleasure, you let yourself go, feeling yourself squirt and splash on Daryl's face. It's not the first time you've cum like this, it had happened to you before with other boyfriends who had known how to touch your exact spots, but from experience not everyone liked the experience and you didn't want this to ruin the moment.

"Fuck... Daryl, I'm sorry..." You say apologetically, covering your face with both hands.

"Did ya squirt?" He lifts his head, licking his lips. "I've never seen a woman do that..."

"I-I'm sorry..."

"Can ya do it again?"

"Can we pretend it didn't happen and..." You uncover your eyes and look at him, you can't help yourself. "What?"

"Could ya do it again?"

"I- I don't know..." You stammer, completely confused, it's the first positive reaction you've had to this.

“Find out?"

He kisses you again, intense, needy, his teeth biting your lips, his tongue fucking your mouth, his hand covers your eyes again and you close them just the same, lying back, letting his fingers cover your core again, overstimulating your clit, fucking you with his fingers, bringing you to another orgasm, this time faster than before. Your fingers tangle in his hair, you can't help it, and you bite him on the cheek as you cum again, soaking his fingers. Daryl protests at the bite, but his fingers don't stop until you close your legs and hold his wrist.

"Turn around." He tells you in a husky voice.

He releases you and turns away from you.

You do as he asks, turn around, hug the pillow, using it to cover your face, spread your legs apart, dig your knees into the mattress and raise your hips. Behind your back you hear Daryl rummaging for something and the tearing of plastic. You're about to say that at your age you're not worried about getting pregnant, but you're grateful that he's worried about the possibility or you getting something. You gasp as he returns to your side, pushes you slightly further forward, holds you by the waist and guides his cock to your entrance, pushing himself inside, bit by bit. You open your eyes wide, holding your breath, feeling him stretch you, working his way up until he's wedged inside you. You hear him huff and puff, gripping your hips with both hands, he slowly pulls out again, tearing a gasp from you, and you groan as he thrusts in a single thrust, taking on an almost cruel rhythm. Fucking you fast and hard, his fingers digging into the skin of your wide hips. Your moans echo in the room, muffled by the creak and squeak of the bed with each thrust Daryl delivers.

"Oh my God..." You moan holding onto the pillow, bucking your hips against his cock, moving to the opposite direction of his thrusts.

"Fuck..." You hear him say and his movements become more desperate.

The pace is fast, clumsy, sloppy, he's reaching his limit, you can sense it by how tightly he grips your body. But that's not what surprises you the most, it's the fact that he's going to get you to cum again. Three times, since before the apocalypse that hasn't happened to you.

"Daryl, Daryl!" you moan, your toes curling as you tense and clench around his cock.

You hear him curse through his teeth and your orgasm takes over as he spanks your ass hard as he too cums staying still inside you as he unloads and fills the condom. 

You both need to catch your breath, you can feel him rocking forward, but he doesn't quite land on your body, his fists are resting on the mattress. You gasp hard against the pillow, trying to process everything that just happened, to stop your knees from shaking.

Daryl steps carefully away from you, you hear his footsteps getting lost down the hallway, all the way to the bathroom, you guess, until you hear the flush of water running. Maybe it's your cue. Maybe it's time for you to grab your clothes and leave. You don't wait for him to tell you. Still feeling weak in the knees, you grab your clothes from the floor, get dressed quickly, leaving the room with your shoes still in your hand. You pass him at the bathroom door. You don't quite know what to say, but he doesn't seem to expect you to either.

“Night." He says.

"G-good night..." You reply, lowering your gaze, walking out of the basement.

You're not sure you'll be able to sleep that night with how fast your heart is beating.

You watch the sunrise. Lying in your bed, looking up at the ceiling, you slowly watch the moon leave its place for the sun, the first rays are annoying, but then you get out of bed. Ready to go on with your daily routine. That makes you think, what's going to happen now between you and Daryl? How should you talk to him? Look at him? What exactly did it mean?

You've known Daryl for years, you've seen him change, that transformation that earned the trust of his entire group, you've seen him fail, make mistakes, but also be loyal, faithful, a friend and protector, you've even seen him joke and laugh when he thought no one was watching. You know his true loyalty is with Rick and Carol, they are the most important people to him, even though he loves the whole group, they are the ones he would give his life for the most. Still, being wandered back and forth and in prison, he took time and patience to teach you how to defend yourselves, how to hunt and how to be invisible. You can say you are friends, almost certainly, you know that if you asked him for help or a favor, he would do it. But this is different. You're not blind, Daryl has his own charm. Many women have noticed that appeal too. Quiet and grumpy, but at the same time he has a big heart. It's also true that you've never seen him with a woman or a man either, but it's clear he knows what he's doing and how he's doing it... maybe before the world went to hell he was in a relationship, or in his travels from community to community he's met other women he's had fun with... no, Daryl's not like that, you don't see him that way.

You let out air loudly through your mouth, trying to stop thinking about it, you adjust your clothes and leave the house to head to the farm area, Olivia gave you a list of things that needed to be replenished in the store room; Beans, tomato, squash if there were still any left, you were starting to plant cabbages as well and although they are not your cup of tea, you are excited to see how the first ones are starting to emerge, slowly forming.  It's ironic, how little you loved getting up early on your parents' farm to help them with the work in the fields and how much you treasure it now. You still hate mosquitoes, though.

"Good morning." You raise your head when you see Carol right in front of you, with such a characteristic smile. You smile too.

"Good morning, Carol." You greet her, carefully plucking some tomatoes, dropping them in the box you bring with you. "Do you need anything?"

"I've come to get some carrots and squash to make a couple of pies." She tells you walking into the field with you. "I talked to Olivia and she gave me permission." She jokes, making you smile again. "How are you, I see you in a better mood than you've been these days." She comments absentmindedly and you open your eyes wide.

You know you can't hesitate with her, Carol is quiet but she knows how to observe and as the mother of the group, she will worry if she sees you take too long to answer or try to make up a lie.

"Y-yes, it's just that I went to talk to Daryl yesterday." Your voice trembles for a second and you clears your throat. 

"Oh, so that was you, Michonne said someone almost woke RJ up because they were banging on the garage door."

"Shit..."

"Don't worry, I think Rick already calmed her down."

"Argh, I don't want to know about that..."

"So were you able to talk to Daryl?" She asks you again, helping her pluck the carrots. "You know he sometimes acts without thinking, but he doesn't mean it."

"It's like you're talking about a puppy or a child..."

"What's the difference?" she jokes, making you laugh, but yes, if you told her what Daryl had done to you she wouldn't think of him as a child.

"We were able to talk and he told me he'd clear it up, so I was more at ease."

Carol shoots you a curious look, you frown slightly, waiting for her to say something, but the woman remains in a state of mystery. When you finish filling your boxes, you walk together toward Olivia's storage room.

"What, are you going to tell me what's on your mind or not?" You say because you can't stop seeing her smile.

"It's nothing, it's just that your 'courtship' gave a lot of buzz."

"Oh yeah?" You look at her curiously.

"Sure, believe it or not, Daryl has a lot of popularity among women." She nods, your eyebrows raise higher making her laugh.

"But... I've never seen Daryl with a girl... Do you know if he's ever had a girlfriend?"

"Well, we know he's tricky when it comes to making friends, but yeah, I know he had a thing with a girl he met in the woods... you know, after what happened with Negan, that time he took to himself." You nod. "And Connie..."

"I knew it!" You blurt out, perhaps shouting louder than you should have. "I knew it...I thought it was so cute that he wanted to learn sign language." You laugh softly, Carol nods. "But Connie."

"She's in the Commonwealth, you know she comes to see us from time to time, but last time, she told us she'd met someone there."

"Poor Daryl..."

"He was the first one to be happy for her, he's always been so good at heart."

"Yes... And what about the other girl?"

"I didn't know her." She shrugs. "But he told me she didn't want to come to Alexandria, he made her choose and when Daryl went looking for her, she was gone."

"...Do you think he misses her?"

"I don't know, this happened even before Connie, maybe he has her as a good memory, but I don't think so... Why?"

"No, curiosity, like I'm telling you, I've never seen him with a woman and... now you've blown me away."

"Daryl is so much more than you think."

Those words ring in your ears for the rest of the day. Yes, it's true, you found out that very night, when you showed up over there and he did with you whatever he wanted, whatever you let him, but it's not just that. You've discovered that Daryl has his little secrets, he's had his romances, his little love stories. None of them have ended, maybe, well and maybe that's why he's still elusive but it makes you want to know more, it makes you think about you, what has what happened meant to him? Should you talk about it?

"Hey..." His voice pierces your ears, making you raise your head. You're helping Olivia with the warehouse inventory and he's peeking through the garage door.

"Hi..." You whisper, you feel nervous and your hands move awkwardly, you don't know where to put them and you fold your arms. "Are you here to get something?"

"Carol." He answers with a nod. "I was told she had gone to the orchard, have ya seen her?"

"She came all the way out here with me, she was bringing some stuff to make some pies, I guess she's home."

"Nah... she ain't there, I've already looked for her."

"Uhm... maybe she's at the mill, or she's gone to help Rosita with Coco..." You give him several options seeing how he shrugs. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I'm gonna go to Hiltop." He tells you. "Maggie and Glenn need help there, I'm taking a group for a few days. I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Oh... You've already got the posse closed?"

"Yeah, wanna come?" He shifts his body weight from one foot to the other, squeezing the crossbow band with his hand.

"Uhm no, if you've already got it all organized."

"No, ya can come, if ya wanna, the more hands we have the better." He shakes his body, raising his hands.

"Okay." You nod, you really feel like going to Hiltop, see Maggie, maybe talk to her about what happened with Daryl. "I'll pack the backpack and..."

"Okay, let Rick know, we'll wait for you at the gate."

"Okay."

It looks like things haven't changed between you and Daryl. You're relieved about that. Thinking about how you should act from now on was weighing you down a bit, but the hunter doesn't show any sign of discomfort, or approach either, it's a bit disappointing, but you prefer it that way, you don't want the friendship you have with him to be ruined. Once you have your pack ready, you grab your Halberd and run off in search of the group, Daryl is waiting for you along with a couple of wagons with the horses, your companions and the gear you're going to need.

"Hop on." The archer says to you, looking at the bike. You nod, climbing on without hesitation. It's not the first time you've ridden together on his bike.

On the ride nothing is out of the ordinary, except for how fast your heart feels. You're used to riding the bike with him, but your head is going a mile a minute. Daryl slows down a little as you ride over the bridge you built a few years ago, the vibration of the wheels going over it sends a tingle through your body and you hug a little tighter to Daryl's body. He looks over his shoulder at you, smiles and speeds off again. Arriving at Hilltop fills you with excitement, you almost jump off the bike when the gates open and you finally stop. Maggie, Glenn and Jesus are the first to greet you. You run straight to your friend, hugging her tightly. It's been days since you've seen her, she takes care of the whole community with her husband and Jesus, she had too many obligations on her back.

"I didn't know you were coming."

"I joined the group at the last minute." You smile, hugging Glenn and Jesus too.

"Good, because I hadn't gotten around to responding to your letter yet." He looks at you apologetically and you shake your head. "We've been pretty busy."

"I can see that, I love how you guys are rebuilding it, after what happened with the Whisperers." You sigh. "It's almost like going back to our parents' farm."

"Yeah... come on, we'll show you where you'll be sleeping these days." Glenn gestures for you to leave your things there.

The wagons are put aside, the animals are taken to the stable. Your companions are housed in different wooden cottages and you and Daryl are taken to another, slightly larger, two-bedroom cottage. 

"We didn't know you were coming, but I guess you don't mind sharing the house."

"No, no problem." Daryl shakes his head. "It's not the first time."

"No, I remind you that I was the one putting up with his snoring in prison." You joke and hear him snort.

"My snoring? The one moving the walls was you."

"No way!" You look at him offended, watching a small smile form on his mouth.

"I'll leave this here." He changes the subject, dropping his backpack on the couch. "I'm gonna go with the others, to find out what we're doin’ tomorrow."

"Okay, I'm going with Maggie and Jesus." 

"Okay." He nods before leaving the house.

With your friend and Jesus you go up to the main house of Hilltop, they have restored it, it is almost as majestic as it once was, no doubt they are trying their best to preserve that place. You feel a little uneasy, you didn't want to make a big deal out of it, seeing that Daryl hasn't changed his attitude towards you, but after what Carol has told you about his courtship, you need to talk to someone about it.

"We've been scouting the northeast area, we've covered more ground since the last checkpoint, across the bridge. We've found some settlements..." Maggie begins to speak as you enter her office. 

"I've slept with Daryl." You throw up, unable to contain yourself any longer. Jesus and Maggie raise their heads at the same time.

"What?" is all you can say.

"Are you dating Daryl?" he dares to ask. He doesn't want to get too much into the conversation, but curiosity gets the better of him too.

"No..." You avert your gaze, but you know you've captured Maggie Rhee's undivided attention.

You forcefully release air through your mouth, wanting to shake off the weight you feel on your back. You start talking, you tell her what happened with Nathan, how the relationship started to deteriorate, the little connection you had in bed and how you left his house leaving him in the middle. You then explain to him that Daryl tried to defend himself in his own way, tangling things up a bit more and when you wanted to talk to him, things cleared up, but you were surprised by his proposal.

"Was he the one who told you?" Maggie is getting more and more intrigued.

"Yes...and it was..."

"Okay! I don't want to know so many details!" Jesus refuses. "I'm leaving, when you're done, we'll talk." He tells you and leaves quickly.

"But don't say anything. Daryl keeps treating me as usual, it's not weird or awkward... I don't want things to get complicated."

"But...do you like him?"

"Daryl? Well..." You get quiet all of a sudden.

"Come on, haven't you ever thought about it?"

"I don't know. Have you?"

"No! I have Glenn."

"Let's see...he's changed a lot since we met him at your dad's farm...not just physically, I'm aware of that, but I never thought he...well nor that he could...like me." You shrug.

"Why not?"

"I don't know!" you groan in despair, covering your face with both hands. "I always thought Carol and him, but... well, we're friends..."

"Glenn and I started out that way." He tells you. "Sort of... and now we're married and we have Hershel."

"That last part doesn't bother me, getting pregnant at my age..."

"You can always adopt, like Aaron."

"First we'll figure out what this is, then we'll talk about kids..."

Maggie smiles broadly, you feel your cheeks flush, but you try to concentrate on what's important, the plans your friend was talking about with Jesus, the settlements found, the departures to talk to them, expand the circle of allies or prepare for a new battle. You spend hours planning, talking, rewriting everything they have to show it to Rick and Michonne, planning something also with Ezekiel. When you finish with your meeting you make a dinner for all the people of Hilltop, you use a huge kitchen that they have installed in the main house, there are a few of you who move between the stoves and tables, leaving everything ready. You feel your heart warming up as you look around you, discovering that everyone is enjoying that moment, the peace and calm that surrounds all those people. You look across the table when your eyes connect with Daryl's on the other side, next to Glenn and a few others, he stares at you, you can see him smiling sideways, a smile forms on your mouth as well and you look away, focusing on the food on your plate.

Your heart beats so hard you feel it pounding against your bones.

When dinner is over you feel your body pass you a ton. After all the travel, the community involvement and then the relaxation you've felt from being at dinner, it has taken all your strength. As you enter the house you almost throw yourself on the couch, but Daryl holds you down.

"No, no." He says. "Go to bed." He orders you. "Tomorrow we're gonna start work and ya need to be in top shape."

"Bossy..."

"Get used to it, although I dun think ya care sometimes." He subtly pushes you toward the room you've decided is going to be yours. You know what he means. You've understood his little dig. You turn to look at him, but he just points to your room with his chin. "Night." He says and disappears into his own room.

"Good night..." You whisper at his door.

 

Things are definitely business as usual. You know what Daryl is doing, he's feeling out the situation, trying to figure out the same thing you are, that everything is fine, that there's no conflict, that you can still call each other friends. Still, you can't help but smile, he tries to flirt with you too, carefully, dropping his words, waiting to see their effect. You wonder again what would have happened if that woman had returned with him to Alexandria or Connie hadn't stayed in the Commonwealth.

******************

Jobs are hard at Hilltop, everyone cooperates to raise the houses, expand the walls surrounding the city, protect the fields, outside Hilltop, so that the Walkers don't enter and destroy everything. Also to keep the animals safe.

Maggie has wanted to know on several occasions how things have been going with Daryl, if there have been any problems, you repeat to her several times that no, it's fine, not to insist on it. Anyway, you come home exhausted every day, the only thing you think about is taking a shower and going to sleep.

Your body is much more relaxed when you get out of the shower, the mist on your skin is the perfect sign that you've used up all the hot water. You feel a little bad for Daryl, but you know he'll understand.

"Rough day?" You hear Daryl's voice from his bedroom door.

"Same as yours." You look at him, he's showered too, before you, so he was already home when you've arrived.

"Come..." He whispers in a little roar that ruffles your hair.

"Okay." You whisper as well walking over to where he is.

Your body weighs down on Daryl's, you arch your back feeling the pleasure coursing through you as the archer, grabbing your ass, helps you move over him and he cums letting out a gasp in a grunt. You lay back on his chest, trying to catch your breath, Daryl's hands are still on your ass, you can feel his fingertips close, squeezing your ass, almost making you laugh.

"I don't know if I'll be able to go to my room..." You say with a trickle of voice.

"Ya can stay here. Dun gotta leave."

**************

There they are again, those same young women who have been after him for several weeks now. You frown slightly. Daryl has just returned from another trip of a few days, this time he brings some gasoline and parts that will be used to reinforce the walls of the community and continue its expansion, your people come and go constantly, some of you stay longer inside the high walls to take care of the city, but he is constantly out, which makes seeing him come back always a relief.

As soon as he drops the bike in front of his front door, there's already a group of girls nearby, wanting to help him, all talking at once, hovering around him, touching him without his permission. What do they intend?

"I think if you keep staring so hard you'll get some of them blown up." You listen beside you. Your heart leaps inside your chest, you raise your head, discovering Carol right next to you. You didn't even realize when she got there.

"I don't know..." You try to make something up, but she sits, on the porch, grabbing another shirt to help you. You're mending some clothes, small holes, adding patches of denim or leather to make them sturdier. Out of caution.

"Are these the girls you told me about?" She asks you again, you just nod.

"They've been after him like headless chickens for weeks." You sigh fixing your gaze for a moment on the patch you're sewing, the last thing you need is to stab a finger. "No matter what time, they're always waiting for him in front of his house."

"How do you know that, do you spy on him?"

"What? No! But we're neighbors, I see them walking past my house and..."

"I don't think you need to worry. I'm pretty sure Daryl has no interest in girls that young."

That shuts you up, also stopping in your tasks. You look up directing your gaze back to Daryl, the girls and now Rick is talking to his brother, the two of them seem engrossed in an important conversation. Ignoring the archer's small fan club.

"I-I don't mean age... Daryl can be with whoever he wants, but it bothers me that they think it's so simple, that he's going to notice them dressed... like this..."

You can feel that like this slipping out of your mouth. There is disappointment and frustration in such a small word. They're young and you understand that, despite the world you live in, they like to draw attention to themselves, feeling safe behind those walls, but you don't think those tiny jean shorts and tight t-shirts are the right bait with Daryl.

"You think Daryl isn't a man who notices pretty legs or a pair of boobs?" Carol asks, mockery and irony shaking her question. You grunt, shaking your head.

"No, of course he'll like those things, but I mean..."

"Are you afraid they'll take him away from you?" Attacks Carol again and that leaves you speechless.

After what happened at Hilltop, you've talked to the group. You've ended up telling them all, whatever is going on between you and Daryl. Maybe your main idea was to take a load off your mind, to clear your head, but you were also hoping for some kind of advice, some encouragement from them. But you only found curiosity and gossip, which makes that every time Daryl is around or comes up in a topic of conversation, mocking looks fall on you, wanting to disappear.

"No. I'm not afraid they'll take him away from me. He's nothing of mine." You fight back, feeling yourself start to get angry, nervous. It always happens to you when you're cornered. "But I think if they knew him well, they'd know that Daryl is not one to be swayed by first impressions, and it's obvious that they're just trying to get his attention because of his physique..."

"They want to have fun with him, yes, that's obvious." Carol agrees, calming down her game a bit when she realizes she's pulling on you too much. "But you know Daryl and you shouldn't worry. I doubt he'll fall for their game."

"I'm not worried...but I find it a little depressing that every day they do the same thing, like hoping that in the end, out of desperation, he'll agree."

"As I say, I don't think you should worry, he's clear about his own interests." Says the white-haired woman again.

You raise your head once again directing your gaze towards the hunter. Rick nods his head several times, Daryl speaks and expresses himself with his whole body, with quick and nervous gestures, but both men seem to come to an agreement. Rick taps him on the shoulder affectionately, helping him with the gas canisters he has brought, Carl is also there to lend a hand, Abraham and Olivia, who notes down everything the archer has brought. Leaving the bike and the empty trailer, Daryl is left alone again, well, the group of young people is still by his side, waiting to get his attention, but the man passes by. Between his hands he fiddles with a piece of paper, it looks like a new list of things to do or bring. You tense slightly as you realize he is walking directly toward your house, toward Carol and you. The girls call out to him, but they stay back, they never get too close when he's with any of you, whether it's Denise, or Rosita or whoever, they prefer to talk to him when he's alone. Or at least try to.

"Here comes Romeo."

"Carol!" you groan, looking at her with wide eyes.

"Hey Pookie!" The woman greets him, ignoring your reproachful voice. "How was the ride?"

"Fine, fine. I brought gas from a stand that traded it for Walkers, they have huge barrels, ain't sure where they get it from or how it stays stable, but it'll help us for a few days." He comments with his voice in a growl. Carol nods. "I've also brought some parts Eugene needed for the radio, I'm going with him to the Commonwealth to see Princess and Merce, Rick has some stuff for them." He shrugs. You raise your eyebrows.

"You're leaving again?" you blurt out, perhaps sounding more distressed than you intend.

"Yes, tomorrow, I'll get some sleep today, pack a car with everything I need and leave early." She nods chewing her lip several times.

"But you just got here..." it sounds almost stupid and you watch as he just shrugs, not understanding why it's a problem.

It's not a problem, there's no problem really. You understand that it's his job, that despite how long Alexandria is his home, Daryl is more comfortable outside the walls, it's his spirit animal, it's who he is. But it's a selfish feeling, you'd like to see him at least a few days over there, calmly, simply enjoying the day, with you, perhaps, doing nothing else. A single heartbeat, strong, forceful against your chest makes you aware of what you have just thought. Your pulse quickens as your face must reflect everything you are thinking, for the faces of your companions change, they look worried.

You want him to stay in Alexandria, with you.

Fuck…

"Are you okay?" Carol asks you.

"Y-Yeah, just..."

"Wanna come to the Commonwealth?" Daryl's voice brings you out of your bubble completely.

"What?" you feel a little stupid for your question.

"It's a good idea." Rick's presence catches you by surprise. You hadn't even seen him, he's there, standing in front of you, hands on hips, with a kind and calm gesture, but at the same time he has an amused gleam in his eye. He knows something, surely Michonne has told him something. "Juanita is going to need help organizing the party she has planned, I'm also going to send Rosita, Enid, Eugene and another group to help, to organize it with Max as well."

"Yes, that's a good idea, besides it's been days since you've been out, I'm sure Connie will be glad to see you." You're encouraged by Carol, for a second you want to ask if she'll be happy to see you or Daryl, but you bite your tongue in time.

"Well, okay, that way I can see how Princess is doing too." You agree although still a little nervous. Daryl nods his head.

"Get some clothes ready, a backpack and we'll leave first thing tomorrow morning."

"Okay..." You nod watching as they all slowly leave, leaving you alone again with Carol.

"You really like him." She comments. It's not a question, there's no hesitation. She just mentions something so obvious it makes you shudder.

"I..." You gasp nervously, looking at Daryl.

"It's possible that you always liked him, but that none of them would have noticed."

"Sounds like a cheesy romance novel..." You mutter and she laughs.

"More like an erotic novel, don't you think?" she jokes getting your cheeks to flush bright red.

You decide to set about getting your things ready after your conversation with Carol. You don't want to think about it too much. Have real feelings for Daryl. Not just the sporadic sex you two have. That makes you nervous and anxious at the same time, you'd like to talk to the archer, ask him if he feels the same way too, but at the same time, you're afraid that he doesn't, and it will all end drastically and awkwardly for both of you.

You leave your backpack, your weapons, your things in general ready at the side of the bed. You go over the edge of your halberd, it's been days since you've been outside the walls of Alexandria, you want to have everything ready so that there won't be any problems later. At night you find it hard to fall asleep, you are nervous about the trip, it's nothing new, it has always happened to you. Sitting on your couch, with a book in your hands and a dim light, you try to lure yourself to sleep so you can go to bed when you hear a knock at the door. Frowning slightly, you put the book down on the couch to open the door. Daryl is on the other side. Maybe in another situation you'd be surprised he was there, but not now. A small smile forms on your mouth in greeting, he gives you a sidelong glance before entering the house as you step aside. The door closes slowly, neither of you needing to say anything. You lean against the wall as Daryl leans into you, kissing you slowly. Your arms go around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Falling asleep after that was much easier.

The next morning, the two of you wake up in your room, not for the first time, here or in Daryl's basement, since that night at Hilltop, sleeping together is also an option and in the mornings it doesn't feel strange, neither the situation, nor the conversation. Daryl gives a gentle touch to one of the legs lying on top of his, waking you up completely. You rub your eyes lazily to look up at him out of the corner of your eye. He looks asleep too, but greets you with a small smile.

"Morning." He grunts, you just hum, unable to find your voice yet. "I'm gonna go home to get my things, gotta everythin’ ready?"

"Yes...but, don't you want some breakfast first?" You offer, looking at him already with your eyes fully open and awake. He shakes his head.

"I'll eat something while I get the bike organized." He comments, you nod letting him free, you move your legs aside, Daryl gets up looking for his clothes.

"Okay, so I'll meet you later at the main house by the warehouse to get the wagon and horses."

"Okay." He nods, getting up, putting on the black sweater and vest.

Even today you find it painful to look at his back, there are many new scars due to the new world you live in, you all have them, but nothing compared to what the hunter has tattooed on him from his previous life. You sigh, earning Daryl a raised eyebrow, you shake your head.

"I don't know if I'll be able to get up." You joke, not wanting to worry him with your real thoughts. Daryl laughs through his nose, lowering his head, hiding his red cheeks with his hair.

"Don't be long, the Commonwealth is far, we need all day to get there, dun want us to get caught in the night." He asks you and you nod your head.

"Yes, sir." You smile, earning an intense stare, but the archer leaves without another word.

Later, already prepared, with your pack and weapons with you, you're finishing off the last few boxes in the wagon, Olivia making a list of everything you're taking with you as you tie the horses to the wagon. Daryl approaches down the same street, Rick meets him at the door of the house, greeting him with a gentle touch on the back to which the hunter responds with the same touch. Eugene and the rest of the group accompanying you are also ready to leave.

"I'll go ahead with the bike." Daryl says. "We'll position ourselves around the wagon to avoid any kind of assault or any Walkers getting too close."

"The group stay well aware, we know what the way there is like, we have communities that are allies, but there are always people who don't respect the rules." Rick speaks as well. "Don't waste ammunition unnecessarily, but don't be intimidated either."

"Don't worry, boss." Abraham says getting into his car. "We'll call in on the radio as soon as we get there."

"Go carefully." He asks you and you all set off.

Before you leave the community you see Carol standing by the front door, waving goodbye to you. A mischievous smile runs across her mouth and you look down, you know what's going through her mind and you don't want her to see your face turn red. A new trip with Daryl, which will keep you out of the community for a few days, surely Princess will offer you the hunter's old apartment, where he lived with the Grimes family. Thinking about it makes your stomach clench, butterflies flutter loudly almost making you dizzy. You shake your head to get those thoughts out of your head. The trip is going to be a long one, you need to stay alert on the road, the last thing you want is for your companions to end up in trouble because of your fantasies.

**********************

Princess and Merce are waiting for you at the huge gates of the Commonwealth when you arrive late at night. The sun is already setting leaving the uncertainty of the night behind you, but it has been an intense journey. You have been caught in an ambush of Walkers, two or three of which you have been able to deal with without much trouble, but further along the same road, they were cutting you off. Among them there was still some Whisperer, guiding them, using them as a shield to continue to survive. The supplies and yourselves are fine, but you arrive tired, covered in blood and mud, which does not prevent your friend from hugging you when you enter the community. Juanita gives Daryl a gentle hug, she has known the hunter for less time than some of you, but has learned that displays of affection with him are brief, with the rest she allows herself to give you a tight hug, smiling broadly and even laughs when she hugs Rosita, excited. Yumiko, Magna and Connie are also waiting for you in the main square, Max runs directly to hug Eugene who wraps his arms around her, happy to see her again. Merce approaches you giving you a handshake, the soldier is still stiff and formal, despite no longer working under anyone's orders. 

"It's good to see you again." You hear Daryl mutter, out of the corner of your eye you see him gesturing to Connie. She smiles broadly, giving him a hug that he accepts without hesitation.

You don't like the way you feel at that moment. Connie is a wonderful person and an excellent friend, for your stomach to cringe like that when you see them together, you don't like it. You don't want to feel that way. You and Daryl are nothing and they seem to fit together perfectly. You wonder again what would have happened if the two of them had decided to stay in Alexandria or come to the Commonwealth together. You'd possibly see Daryl a lot less and you'd never have figured out those feelings you have for him.

"Shit..." You mumble under your breath. Magna looks up, they're getting the stuff from the cart where you are.

"Everything okay?" she asks you leaving several boxes in a small trailer being taken away by other soldiers from the community.

"What? Oh, yeah, it's just... it's been a long trip." You lie, though not entirely. Truth be told a shower and a bed wouldn't hurt right about now.

"Okay, let the boys take care of this, come with us." Princess says, taking her partner's hand and you all walk towards the main building. You have a small meeting at the entrance. Max hands out a few things among you, apartment keys, a few bags with some towels and food already prepared.

"We have placed most of you in your old apartments, the rest of you are also relocated to various houses. If you don't know how to get there, we'll drive you, I think some of you are coming to the community for the first time." She says looking at some of the companions who have come with you.

"There is hot water so you can take a shower, the apartments are clean and we have prepared something to eat for you." Max explains as well. "We guess you guys are exhausted, we'll talk about the party tomorrow."

"Daryl." Merce speaks after a while observing the situation. "You guys we've put you in Rick and the kids' old house. Where you were living."

"A'right, thanks... I figure it's time for a well deserved rest." He looks at you, your body trembles, you didn't expect him to invite you, although it's clear, where else would you go? Well maybe in some other apartment, or with Rosita and Coco.

You detect out of the corner of your eye how Connie looks at the two of you, curiously, and then she smiles biting her lip. You open your eyes wide, nervous, feeling your cheeks burn. Something knows, something senses, which is reaffirmed when Daryl gives you a tap to get your attention, you snap out of your self-absorption to look at him.

"Cmon?"

"Y-yeah, see you tomorrow." You smile a little.

"Is there something I should know?" You listen to Merce talk to Princess.

"Later at home I'll explain it to you." She replies kissing your cheek. "Everyone to rest." She gives the others permission to retire.

"You're good at being the boss." Rosita tells her, cradling Coco in her arms.

"Nope. Merce take care of everything, I just pretend I know what I'm talking about." She jokes, making the small group laugh. "People are a lot calmer now that things aren't ruled...well, like they used to be." He shrugs.

A party. The thought keeps running through your mind as you walk the dark but quiet streets of the Commonwealth. True, things are quiet, it almost seems like the world you once knew, but that's... you still remember the first party in that world of the dead. When you arrived in Alexandria, not knowing what was going to happen, who these people were, or if things would work out. Deanna invited you all to a party to welcome you, seeing dresses, party clothes, high heels inside the closet of what would be your new home made you a little dizzy, making you think that that community would not stand for long.

You were glad you were wrong about that.

"It's been a while since I've celebrated Christmas." You comment, not sure if you said it loud enough or just thought it. When you feel Daryl's gaze on you, you know you've caught his attention.

"We've never celebrated." He mutters, not giving it a thought. You look at him in surprise.

"Never?"

"Well, when I was a kid, but I don't remember much...it was just another day my dad came home drunk." He shrugs.

"I'm sorry to hear that..." You whisper pityingly. You know little and less about Daryl's life, only what he's told you, and truth be told, he's never been too cheerful.

"It's not like I care." He shakes his body. "We can do it so the kids can enjoy a different kind of day, gifts, sounds good to me."

"I have to figure out what to get Judith and RJ."

"It's not like you have much of a choice." He tries to joke and you laugh through your nose.

"You're right..." You stand there for a moment thinking. "Do you want to come with me to the mall?" You say it as a joke, but at the same time it's true, you'd like to take a quick trip to the mall near the Commonwealth, “I'm sure it's stripped down, but just to try it out.”

"To the mall next door?" he asks catching you by surprise. "Do you think there will be anything left?"

"I-I don't know, but I'd sure like to take a look."

"Okay, we can make a list, bring stuff for the kids here too..."

"And for us, I mean... I'm sure the others will be excited too."

"I guess."

A small smile tugs at your mouth, biting your lip to try to stifle it a little and not annoy the hunter, but you feel his gaze on you, one eyebrow raised, questioning.

"What?"

"Nothing, I'm just excited by the idea. Just from imagining the kids opening the presents." You laugh softly and he seems to catch it, snorting.

"You like kids." He understands, looking sideways at you, opening the apartment door. "But I've never seen you with one."

"The world went to shit, Daryl, remember? The thought of bringing a baby into this world scares me, I know we're safer now, that things are different than they were in the beginning, but..." You shrug, venturing inside the house, right behind him. "Besides at my age the chances of me getting pregnant are very small..."

"But it's not impossible." You cut off your thoughts. You look at him, twisting your head slightly, smile trying to joke and put your hands on your hips.

"Is it that you want a baby, Dixon?"

He looks at you, there doesn't seem to be any expression on his face, but the intensity in his eyes make your smile falter, forcing you to hold your breath for a few seconds before he shakes his head.

You, maybe.

"Nah, who'd want another Dixon for the world?"

"I know of a group that would love to help you with that." You can't bite your tongue in time. By the time you're aware of what you've said, Daryl is already looking at you with raised eyebrows and a pursed mouth. How stupid.

"What?"

"Nothing."

But you know his question is rhetorical. That he understood perfectly well what you were referring to, he's just trying to set the conversation straight. You're standing there, in the middle of the living room of the apartment, now it feels incredibly small to you, feeling suffocated, you'd like to leave the conversation there, tell him goodnight and tomorrow will be another day. But Daryl turns on his axis and walks towards you a couple of steps.

"You mean the group short shorts?" He says with an amused edge to his voice.

Oh. He's noticed it too. You think, but of course, how can you not? As Carol told you, why wouldn't nice legs and little ones still in place get his attention? They'd get your attention too if you'd like those things. You shake off those thoughts, taking a small step back, looking at him sideways.

"They are always waiting for you when you come back from some mission..." You try to justify yourself.

"They're just looking for attention. Besides I don't think I could handle all four at once. I'm not that good." 

Your gaze shoots to him, there's a small smile on his mouth at the same time the tips of his ears look reddened. You hold each other's gaze for a few seconds before you laugh and lower your head, hiding the laugh between your teeth.

"Idiot."

"I have no intention with any of them." You say again. "I don't like them following me around either, but they don't listen to me."

"Bark, you're good at it when you're angry." You prod him and he snorts.

"I think you like it when I bark at you." He smiles moving a little closer to you.

"You don't bark at me...you just growl at me." You smile wanting to tease him, Daryl growls, brushing his nose against yours, a chuckle escapes you.

"You want me to growl at you?" he whispers against your lips, you nod.

"Yes..."

Opening your eyes you feel Daryl's arm around your waist, pressing you against his chest, fully asleep, or so it seems. Slowly, not wanting to wake him, you look up, discovering how calm and relaxed he seems. His other arm under his head, his disheveled hair falling over his eyes, his mouth half open, letting out several sighs that don't become snores. It is a privileged view that you try to burn into your mind. Very slowly you move between his arms, kissing his chin, the line of his jaw, but the movement wakes Daryl, putting him on alert. His huge hand covers your mouth as he turns sharply, standing over you. Your heart races at the sight of his still sleeping eyes. As he begins to become aware of where he is and who you are, he snorts and slowly lowers his hand from your mouth.

"I'm sorry. I was asleep..."

"I know, it's a miracle I didn't know existed." You joke and he rolls his eyes.

"Shut up. What were you doing?"

"Looking at you."

"That's creepy." He jokes and you laugh quietly.

"I like looking at you, you're so cute." You continue to sting watching his ears turn red.

"Why didn't you roll over and go back to sleep?"

"Because we have to go get the kids presents." You smile wider seeing him get a small smile too.

"Okay." He grunts letting you off the hook, sitting down on the bed to get his clothes and get dressed.

It's been days since you've dreamed of that time. Before you and Daryl started this relationship. The Christmas that changed everything for you.

Your relationship with Daryl started to become more evident and continuous from that first night in the Commonwealth. You went next to the mall, talking to Princess, Merce and Max about your gift idea, everyone thought it was a good idea and put together different requests from kids and teens in the community to try to bring everything. While you were looking for the last requests before Christmas day, the party was all organized, the room where it was going to be held was fully decorated, even a Christmas tree had been put up and was being surrounded by lots of presents, but some were left behind and you were doing your best to find them when you and Daryl heard a very soft cry coming from one of the tents.

There you found Oscar, a baby just a few months old, begging for attention, possibly starving. His mother was chained up not far from him and it was evident that she had not long ago been transformed. You didn't even hesitate, Daryl gave his mother rest and then took little Oscar in his arms, he was wrapped in a blanket with that name embroidered on it, so you decided to leave that name for the baby. When you returned to the community there was a small commotion when you saw the baby in your arms, many questions plastered on the faces and eyes of your companions.

"You were supposed to go for gifts for the children, where did you get that one?" Princess asked for the others.

You explained to them what had happened at the mall and no one doubted that you had done the sensible thing. On the other hand, the idea of adopting Oscar didn't cross your mind at first, in fact your idea was to leave him at the Commonwealth, surely someone would take care of him, but Daryl didn't think so.

"We kept it. We found him."

"Daryl, it's a baby, it's not a toy. You can't just… claim him..."

"And what yer gonna do, leave him here for someone to raffle off." He snorted and you opened your mouth but then closed it. If you thought about it...

"I'm just trying to find him a family."

"We could be his family!" He barked and you looked at him with wide eyes.

"We?"

"In Alexandria, I meant... all of us, in the community... you..." mumbled looked visibly nervous. You knew there was something struggling to get out but his mouth refused to spit it out.

"Fine, we'll take him with us to Alexandria, but you can't force me to have a baby, Daryl." You tried to make him understand. "Much less if I have to take care of it by myself."

Again you saw that gesture in him, like chewing his lip as his eyes searched for a spot to look other than you, the ideas building up in his head, but his mouth still didn't want to speak.

"You know Daryl. If you have something to say to me, say it, it's not good to keep things to yourself." You provoked him to speak, but he just turns and walks away. "I thought so..." You growled.

As Rick arrived with the others, even Carol with Ezekiel from The Kingdom, you had to explain again how you had found Oscar, earning you some funny looks from your friends, but you wanted to ignore them, however, in your mind Daryl's words followed, maybe you should take Oscar to Alexandria, he will be safe there too, after all there will be other mothers there who can help you if you had doubts, plus other children he could make friends with. Maybe you should listen to Daryl. During the day you took care of Oscar, taking care of him, bringing out your maternal instinct. It's not that you don't like children, you loved taking care of Judith and RJ, but you never thought you would become a mother. That day with Oscar in your arms, you ended up making the decision that you would be his mother and that he would come back to Alexandria with you. 

Daryl got to you before you got to him. At the ball, after getting everything ready, the archer appeared through the party room, walking straight towards you.

"Daryl listen..."

"I wanna have a baby with ya." Your words got stuck in your throat. "Ya asked me if I wanted to have a baby, yes, if it's with ya." You were unable to speak, Daryl was breathing heavily, his nose swelling, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Saying all that was complicated for him, it was clear he'd had an intense argument with himself. "You said you didn't think you could have babies and suddenly Oscar has shown up...it's...I dunno..." He was stunned, he simply couldn't get his thoughts together and it was overwhelming him.

"Is that what you want? It would be a commitment... very long term, Daryl, it's..."

"Yer my girl, ain't ya? A commitment..."

"I'm your girl?" your heart raced violently at those words.

"Ya wanna a ring or somethin’?" he asked leaving you speechless once again.

The sparkle on your finger captures your attention, pulling you back out of the memories. You didn't need a ring for Daryl to make it clear how he felt, his words had already done that, but still the archer showed up with a ring that symbolized a little more of how he felt.

"You're such a romantic, Dixon." You laughed with him accepting the gift.

"We were already friends. The sex is fine. All that was missing was the baby." He told you and you laughed.

"Mom?" You hear in the hallway, putting you both on alert.

"Shall I go?" asks Daryl who is already sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Please, I'll be right there and fix some breakfast."

"Okay." He leans over giving you a kiss. "Coming, champ."

"Daddy!" replies Oscar with an excited shout.

You sit on the bed for a few more seconds, enjoying just that, the feeling that is enveloping you, in the distance, you hear Daryl's voice and Oscar's laughter enjoying his father's attentions. You close your eyes feeling goose bumps, your heart racing. How everything has changed with a few simple words.

"I can try…”

[burn-before-reading]

moving in w joost fluff? eating takeaway pizza on the floor bc there isn’t a dinner table yet, unpacking old stuff from trips together, discussing where to hang paintings or how to furnish the place and that kind of stuff. just total domestic bliss. plzzzz I’m begging <33

Floor Pizza & Photo Albums

joost klein x reader

after finally moving in together, the two of you reminisce on how you two met and start planning your future.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: Im a total sucker for domestic shit i love this request so much. Also as someone who has moved at least once a year the past couple years i kinda need a chill moving party at some point aaaaaaaa

“ Do you want me to set the last box over here?” Joost gestures to a pile of boxes labelled KITCHEN and you nod. Setting is down, he takes a look at the work you two have left, dozens of boxes scattered around your guys new house. The two of you had planned to move in together after he asked you about a year prior. So after five years of dating, looking at too many places together, and waiting Joost to finish his tour, you guys finally found the right place to settle down.

“Thats the last box from the truck, right?” you asked, leaning up against the kitchen island.

“ya, i think so. this took longer than I thought honestly. we should have hired movers.” he laughed, wiping the sweat from his hands.

“yeah, and now we gotta unpack everything. and we can’t fully do that till all the furniture we ordered shows up.” you look to the barren kitchen and living room situation. “at least we got a mattress.” you add clicking your tongue in thought a few times before looking at him and smiling “ soo… Dinner?”

-

This moment reminded you of your first apartment after college, but a little less lonely. The two of your sitting in a makeshift picnic in your soon to be living room, old blanket laid out to protect the hardwood from any crumbs from a bag of chips you grabbed. A box of pizza open and slowly being devoured with some beer to wash it down. a bit more relaxing than your first night at your last apartment. sitting on an air mattress, eating microwave ramen and rewatching a movie on your laptop. yeah, this time was a lot better.

“ That was not the first conversation we had i promise you.” you chuckled as the two of you reminisced on your guys past.

“ Yes it was! I met you at Alanis’s birthday! You complimented my tattoos and you were wearing that, that one thing.”

“that one thing.”

“yeah!”

“very specific.. and that wasn’t the first time we met.” you took a sip of your beer. “it was the week before actually.”

“No, I would’ve remembered you… wait, were you at the concert?” he asked, now more intrigued than ever. his head titled slightly in curiosity.

“I was. Alanis invited me.” you nodded.

“why don’t I remember you there?”

“because you got completely hammered the second the show was over. by the time she properly introduced us you were almost black out drunk.” You teased. He just winced.

“wow, im surprised you even agreed to a date if that was your first impression of me.”

“well I already had seen you at your worst, and you still looked pretty cute.” you smirked and leaned over to kiss him on his cheek before standing up and walking over to one of the boxes.

“Schatje, we can start unpacking tomorrow. Its late.”

“I know I know, Im looking for something.” You rummaged through one of the boxes with your name on it. After a second you found what you were looking for and pulled out a book before heading back over to a confused Joost, sitting back down on the floor next to him and leaning over so your shoulders touched. You handed the book to him and opened the cover up to reveal a photo album.

“I started a photo album after moving here.”

“I remember you used to bring those disposable little cameras everywhere. Thats why I bought you that polaroid.” you nodded and continued flipping through.

First few pictures were of your old apartment, the one you had just moved out of. The sad air mattress, a blurry mirror selfie, the old cafe you used to go to.

“after the first month I met Alanis. She saw me at the same cafe all the time and said I looked sad.” You pointed to the first picture of her you took at the cafe.

“Forever glad she befriended you by the way.” Joost murmured and kissed the side of your head. your face grew slightly red but you continued the small album tour.

“yeah, me too, moving to a new country was definitely overwhelming, but two months later,” you flipped through a couple more photos, your first day at work, a couple more outings with Alanis. “I met you, unofficially.” you joked. The top picture was him performing at his concert, He was shirtless and screaming some lyrics at the crowd. The picture below was of the two of you. He clearly was wasted, and had him arm around your neck. You were smiling, facing the camera, slightly buzzed, and the two of you were making the sign of the horns with your free hands. “you saw my camera and insisted we get a picture together.”

“How had i never seen these before? and Why am I barely learning of this now?” his hand touched the picture softly, like he was trying to absorb the memory of your first meeting.

“It was for like two minutes if that makes you feel any better. I had to leave immediately after. I just felt rude leaving without complimenting your performance. And I just never wanted to correct you when we were in public.” you reassured him, but he just kept gently brushing over the photos.

“can we frame it?” he asked. You shrugged your shoulders.

“if you want? I don’t wanna take it out but I can make a copy?” you replied, but joost had pulled the picture out and was stood up to walk to fireplace mantel and held the picture up. “be careful! your hands are greasy.” you followed him with the book to see what he was doing.

“It should go on this wall right here. in the center.” he imagined.

“we can, but its like, super tiny. shouldn’t we put something bigger over there? we can do like a collage maybe.” you saw the lightbulb go off in his head at the mention of a collage and you clutched the album in your arms tighter. “wash your hands first, then ill let you start pulling all the photos out.” he set the picture down so it rest on the mantel and stood back to admire the temporary decoration.

“Volmaakt.” (perfect)

“Well if my photos are going on the wall over here then,” you went to another box and pulled out a frame that had a funny portrait Joost had drawn of you on your fifth date. “I want this to go in the living room as well. we gotta have a whole art wall honestly.”

“I bet I could commision a painting from Daan to go above the couch.” he went and moved some boxes around to make the “couch” and another for a place holder coffee table and sat down on them. “ the tv can go over there. so you can hook up your game console.” he gestured in front of him then stood up again.

“maybe the book shelf can go somewhere on that wall?”

“hmm.” you stand next to him and stick your hands out in a frame shape and squint your eyes. “I can see it. You know what I think?” Your hands go back down and you look and him and grin.

“If we invite everyone over tomorrow they can unpack and move all the furniture for us.”

“They definitely will if we pay them in beer. Appie said he would bring my dogs over tomorrow anyway. I miss them.”

“me too, that's why the house feels so quiet.” you reply.

“well I can fix that.” joost goes pulls his laptop out of a bag and starts playing ABBA.

“The neighbors are going to hate us.” you laugh as he starts dancing and motions you to join in. “actually keep dancing I need to capture this.” you scrounge around in a bag of your for another little film camera and snap a quick picture of the floor pizza and Joost having his own mini dance party. satisfied with your documentation you go to join him, the two of you vibing to Gimmie Gimmie.

When the song ends you realize how tired you are so the two of you decide to retire for the night, and deal with the mess in the morning. Heading to the makeshift bed you had set up earlier with the queen sized mattress and a mountain of pillows, blankets, and stuffies. You simply let yourself collapse on the pile and Joost joins you, the exhaustion hitting you both. He feels his way through the blankets till he finds your arms and pulls you close to him so you guys can cuddle. In the morning you can deal with unpacking and furniture, but now you two can be next to each other, in the same bed, officially.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi Miss Raven! I was reading your opinions about Leona and wanted to ask you, do you think Leona would be a better king than Falena?

[Referencing this post!]

Put simply, no--but not for the reasons you're probably thinking. Hey now, hold on! Put down your pitchforks and torches! Please at least hear what I have to say and consider it.

It's not that I think that Leona is incompetent or that I think Falena is sufficient as a king. It's that ruling (especially as a monarch that has a LOT of power and control) is very nuanced and to say that one person would be "better" than another is grossly glossing over all that goes into governance.

This post gets quite long, so I've placed all my thoughts under the cut. Again, I ask that you read the whole post before commenting.

First of all, the baseline we're comparing to is Falena so let's review what we know about him that's relevant to this discussion. Leona describes Falena as someone who has a "carefree attitude". Because of this, Leona worries that Falena will "run [their] kingdom into the ground." Now something I want to make clear: "[running their] kingdom into the ground" is very harsh wording used ONLY in EN. In JP, Leona is much more casual with his phrasing. He simply expresses that he is "worried about the country's future", not that he thinks Falena will ruin it:

In the book 2 post-OB flashback sequence, Leona implies that his older brother can sing and nap but still be guaranteed the crown because of Falena being first-born. Falena is noted as holding a ceremony in honor of his son's birth; he had commissioned for a fountain to be built (even though water is a scarce resource in their land) and unveiled in their capital—an occasion which Leona skipped. He refers to the ceremony as a "self-indulgent party where you show off your son to the people." This characterizes Falena as a jovial and excessive person who doesn't think too deeply about policies. Another example of this comes from Leona's Birthday Boy vignettes, in which Falena sends his younger brother an expensive rug. "In the time he spends sending me gifts I don't even want, he could be sending rugs to neighboring lands and bolstering our foreign relations," Leona says. "Of course, the thought never even crosses his mind." One of the Sunset Savnna’s driving philosophies is “hakuna matata”, which, as Leona describes it, means, “don’t think too hard about things”. And indeed, if Falena is anything like how Leona says he is, then he is the walking embodiment of their country and their beliefs.

One major issue that is unique to their homeland is that of unification. The Sunset Savanna boasts many different kinds of beastmen, each with their own customs and cultures--and because of that, these beastmen tend to live in settlements of just their own kind and don't always get along or see eye-to-eye with others. For example, it is said that very few bird beastmen reside in the capital city and Ruggie has implied that hyenas are low in the social hierarchy. Kifaji, the grand chamberlain, confides that the acting king Falena has struggled with this unification. The Kingscholars' father has communicated that he would like for nothing more than Leona to lend his assistance to Falena for this endeavor. (Keep this in mind, as I will be touching upon this again later!)

What I think many people tend to overlook when it comes to Falena's rule is that he has not been in power for a long time. According to Tamashina Mina, Falena has only been running the country for "the last few years", which is NOT that long. Falena has not even had that much experience as the official head of state to begin with--and yeah, you could argue that he has been preparing his whole life to eventually become the ruler, training for it and actually doing it are very different beasts. No amount of tutoring will prepare you for having the weight of an entire nation suddenly on your shoulders. I would also argue that anyone that is new to a job won't do the best right away and that experience is the best teacher. Falena is likely still learning while on the job and trying to do his best while also juggling being a parent and husband, trying to reach across the aisle to his estranged younger brother, and looking after his ill father.

This leads me to another point: a lot of what we hear about Falena is coming from Leona's perspective, which is very biased (especially in the post-OB flashback, as this was when Leona was at his most bitter). We should be aware of this while taking in the information Leona is offering. I don't doubt that Leona's telling the truth about how his brother is carefree or the things his brother has done, but at the same time we need to realize that this is a limited view of Falena. It's not the whole picture of who he is. Leona tends to focus on his brother's shortcomings and downfalls--but thinking about it, what are Falena's strengths?

Well, one of them is definitely that Falena is friendly, kind-hearted, and honest. Even Leona confesses to this. However, he frames these traits in a negative way, stating that "[Falena] could just focus on the kingdom's affairs--you know, his JOB--but nooo, he's gotta be the caring big brother who's nice to everybody," and, of his honesty, "he just makes things harder for himself." Falena also seems to be positive and insightful--admirable qualities in a leader. When Leona speaks rudely to him, Falena tries to reassure his little brother: "You may never become king, but you are still wise. There is much you could do for this country." He even pursues Leona when he leaves, trying to get his little brother to see reason. Falena sees the potential in Leona and he wants Leona to realize that potential too. If you look at this another way, this personality can be a boon. It could make it easier for Falena to smooth over tensions and get other political figures to open up to him, similar to how Kalim’s empathy helps to uplift and support his dorm mates and how those dorm mates in return give him their loyalty.

Finally, we know that Falena is cognizant of the culture and the values of the Sunset Savanna and likely works in accordance with those. If we revisit Tamashina Mina, Leona talks at length about how some areas of the country are so underdeveloped that its people are still drinking rainwater or from wells. He laments the situation and says that if only they improved their infrastructure and mined the valuable ore their country has, the people would be able to live better lives. Leona here leans pro-industrialization. From the lack of industrialization we see in large parts of the country, we can assume that Falena does not have this same stance. Rather, Falena understands that the people of the Sunset Savanna cherish living in harmony with nature and want to honor their animal ancestors by living in this way. He KNOWS that their people would be against industrialization, and so he favors slower development (Sunrise City being one of these metropolises that developed under the rule of their father) and in ways which preserve nature. As Lilia puts it, “Developing is easy. You just throw money at it. But building a city like this, while still preserving nature? That’s the real challenge, I’d say.” (That was a very quick summary but if you're interested in reading more about this topic specifically, I'd recommend this post!)

Falena cares about tradition and upholding it, and there isn’t inherently an issue with that. He values where he comes from and the practices that come with that. That’s why Falena gets upset with Leona for not doing his duties and skipping out on important meetings. It’s not purely that Falena sees these acts as disrespectful (although let’s be clear, it is disrespectful), but it also comes with the sadness of knowing that his younger brother doesn’t see the value in the same things he does—yet he still understands that Leona has his own strengths that be brings to the table.

You can see how this could translate into his ruling style too, even if it is not explicitly stated in the game. Falena is someone who is easy to approach with your problems (let's assume that this is the case both for his own people and for diplomats of other countries). He is someone who cares about tending to everyone, which would make him popular with the public--but that means he may spread himself or their resources too thin. Falena is also for slower progress in order to respect the ways of their culture and their people's values. But the point is, Falena cares, and all Leona sees in that is a bleeding heart since it doesn't produce what Leona thinks are good results.

And speaking of Leona, it's about time we get to him. What are his qualifications in a situation where he was king? What would his ruling style be like, and who would it serve his country?

Firstly, it's worthwhile to compare Leona's thinking to Falena's. Unlike his older brother, Leona is proactive--he plans ahead and considers the political power in something as simple as gifting an item. Many of the ideas he proposes for bettering his country are things that Falena either never thought of (ie gifting the rug to another country instead of to him) or would refuse to implement out of principle (speedrunning mining operations). However, it's undeniable that Leona's methods would produce results. As he demonstrates to us with his shady tactics in books 2 and 3, it does not matter to Leona what he has to do in order to achieve what he desires. His eyes are set on the goal, not on how he gets there (though he will plan the steps out meticulously as well). He's willing to tear up the environment if it means enriching the Sunset Savanna's economy and providing clean, consistent drinking water for the citizens. It's ultimately gains, but it jeopardizes maintaining harmony with nature. This would earn him genuine ire from his people (and honestly, disliking someone for blatantly disregarding your beliefs is valid; it's not blindly being petty or hating Leona for being the "lowly second born"). But!! Leona as of book 7 says he is going to intern at a mining and energy lab in his home country. This implies that he is willing to learn about the field and may use that knowledge to enact sustainable change. This is a really good start to his development and growth into a wise leader.

The brothers' personalities are also not alike at all. Leona is... admittedly far more abrasive that Falena. I'm not saying that Leona would behave so rudely to politicians or on a global stage (please, the man has more tact than that), but he would carry himself very differently than Falena. Leona can be polite and speak fancily all he wants, but he still does not have that same approachable warmth to him. Something else we should consider is that... well, Leona doesn't like stuffy occasions or putting on airs, which would basically be expect of him as king. We don't know for sure how he would act if the circumstances ask that he be cordial and yet the man himself detests such a thing. He could play the part if needed, sure. But for how long before he becomes annoyed or tired of it? Leona can also be arrogant and demanding. Do you think he would skip/sleep through meetings with advisors he deems irrelevant or unproductive? (Recall how he skips ceremonies and traditions he deems unimportant or boring, like the celebration of Cheka’s birth and tries to cheat his way out of his responsibilities as Captain of the Sunset Warriors.) How do you think he'd act with people who oppose him? Would he defy traditions? He also disregards the “hakuna matata” mantra and cynically labels it “self-serving”. I could see how tensions could rise as a result. (Reminder that I'm not saying it's for CERTAIN that Leona would do these things, I'm just posing possibilities based on what I understand of his character and whether you believe Leona would act like this or not is up to you.) Leona is 10 years younger than Falena and has never formally served in a governmental position. This means that he, too, lacks the political experience to be king. Some would say that where Leona makes up for this is in life experiences. He has been downtrodden and defeated, mingled among the common folk, etc. This means Leona is better equipped to understand the plight of his people, they argue. And I can see where people are coming from--but personally, I think Leona still lacks what he needs to be a "better" ruler. Yes, Leona has lived "out there", but the fact remains that Falena still has 10 years on him. What's more is that Leona has not actually strayed that far from his privileged life. He's dorm leader (a position of power within NRC), attends an elite magic school, and constantly has Ruggie taking care of him. I don't think this really prepares him to rule a whole country.

That's a good segway into Leona and his leadership. As I've mentioned before, Falena is having trouble with enacting national policies to unite all beastmen. Leona does not appear to have the same issue, as even though there is a variety of beastmen within Savanaclaw, they all defer to Leona the same. Therefore, Leona, as king, could easily resolve this problem in the Sunset Savanna--so the theory goes. As for me, well... In my opinion, I do think it's a show of skill that Leona can get many different beastmen rallying under his flag but I don't think this generalizes to (again) the scale of an entire nation. Not only do we have to account for WAY more people, but also people of demographics that differ wildly from Savanaclaw. The mobs under Leona follow him, yes--but thinking about it, they're all VERY similar demographics-wise. They're roughly the same age, all male, all students, and have the same goals in mind (for book 2, it was to be noticed by talent scouts). I would bet that most of them are from middle class or upper-class incomes too. Now expand the scope to a country. Do you think Leona could appeal to young and old? Male and female? Rich and poor? People of all occupations? What about parents? There are so many other factors to account for, so I don't think it's fair to generalize Leona leading a dorm of maybe 85ish (this is just a guess; NRC has ~800 total students, 600 are on-campus and split across 7 dorms so this assumes equal splitting) to a diverse kingdom of thousands.

If Falena were to abdicate the throne to Leona right this second, no, I don't think Leona would be fit to be king. Leona's ideas seem "good" on a surface level, but that's ignoring the long-term impacts and his less-than-stellar personality quirks. He has a ton that he has to learn before he can comfortably govern. At the same time, Falena isn't exactly a perfect ruler either. He, too, lacks experience and can be short-sighted and naive in spite of his good intentions and willingness to hear everyone out.

In an AU where Leona was actually the crown prince (and thus never got talked down to or treated like the “lesser” second born), maybe things would be different. But then that creates the same issue with Falena (now the scorned younger prince) being the "Leona" of the AU.

Each Kingscholar brother has his own strengths and weaknesses, perspectives, and leadership styles. THIS DOES NOT MAKE ONE SUPERIOR OR "BETTER" THAN THE OTHER. Instead, they make up for one another's deficits or flaws, creating a more well-rounded and unified view. This is, perhaps, why both Falena and their father want Leona to step in and help with ruling the country. I think they all see the benefit that Leona could provide and that they value his thoughts.

The "best" situation for the Sunset Savanna, in my opinion, would be Leona and Falena working together to see the country's future through. It does not have to be in the capacity of king and advisor; titles do not matter here. What is most important is that Leona and Falena can meet on neutral grounds and agree to put their all into improving the Sunset Savanna.

[mayuichi]

Spending your birthday with them.

Include:

Genshin Impact [ Alhaitham, Wriothesley, Heizou ]

Honkai: Star Rail [ Aventurine & Veritas Ratio ]

Persona 5 [ Akechi Goro ]

Moriarty the Patriot [ William James Moriarty & Fred Porlock ]

Content Warning: fem!reader, I'm sorry for men that may read this! If you easily switch pronouns in your mind then go ahead, but there's mention of the reader wearing a dress at some point! (kind of irrevelant though, so I think you can imagine something else then?), pet names and.. that's all i think-. it's just a fluff so...

may's note: im so sorry i took so long to come back!! ive got a lot on my plate recently, i had planned another oneshot to come out but but BUUT!! My best friend's birthday is right around the corner when I write this (aha just a day before.. hi..) so im writing this for her, with her favourites and some that i know she loves <3 HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!! I HOPE YOULL HAVE AN AMAZING DAY AND THAT YOU GOT THAT PLUSH YOU WANTED TO GO WITH AVENTURINE!! ive kinda rushed this to come out ngl, because its been a month im like "i have the time" until i didnt have time anymore.. sorry if it sucks :(

This artwork has been made by susucre! Do not steal/use it! every other used for the headers are official arts!

Even if he doesn't want to, he has duties now. Or at least, unexpected duties. But you can be sure Alhaitham always makes some time for you. How can he not? You're his sweetheart. Well, he isn't one to give sweet names but he still thinks so.

However, how could've you expect him to forget about your birthday? It's once a year, and he doesn't really care much about them usually. But we're talking about you. Of course he can't forget about it. He wants you happy, and he knows you'd hate if he doesn't at least wish you a happy birthday.

But what was your surprise when you find him still in bed, beside you, his right arm drapped over you as he reads from the other. Isn't he supposed to be at work, at the Akademiya? You don't even have the time to inquire, he saw your eyes fluttering open.

“Good morning.„ he briefly looks over you, before focusing back onto his book. But he strokes your side with his hand gently. He isn't much of a talker, but his small gestures are everything, aren't they?

He rapidly finishes his page, and places the book down to turn to you. “I'll let you take a shower and I'll prepare you breakfast.„ you can't even reply that he's already out of bed and heading to the kitchen. You'll just have to go shower.

It's your special day. Of course you'll wear a pretty dress, you want to feel extra pretty for today. When done, you head to the living room, finding him waiting for you to eat. It isn't a feast, but more than enough for the both of you. The silence is comfortable, only your breathing.

“Where are you going?„ he inquires when he sees you about to open the front door. You thought you'd go on a walk. “I haven't overworked myself for a week so I could have a full day off for you to ditch me, you know?„

It wasn't much, maybe even a bit offensive for some. But the idea that he paid attention enough to be certain to have a complete day off for you is enough to make you smile. And so, you chuckle and walk towards him.

“The weather is nice. It's sunny. We should go out together, don't you think?„ you tilt your head, waiting for his approval.. or for a compromise.

“It is. It's the perfect weather to do nothing at all. Or to read next to a window.„ without further notice, he stands and pulls you with him to the nearby window. Making you sit in his lap, he pulls out a book and rests his chin on top of your head.

“Maybe it isn't the best birthday you'll ever have, but I hope my company is enough.„ he isn't necessarily insecure, far from it even. But it's your special day. He just wants to make you happy, doesn't he?

And even if he says so, just reading in his lap with him, is enough. Spending time with him makes it nicer. Leaning further into his chest, you sigh and start to read with him. He's careful to wait for you, to ensure you finished before he actually turns the page.

He'll take breaks from time to time to make you both a drink, or to let you talk a bit. It isn't partying, but being able to spend the day together, reading and talking, without him possibly thinking about his duties is a luxury he doesn't always allow himself.

And he's more than glad for it to be with you.

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐒˚ ◌༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕥ⋆·˚ ༘ *︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚༊*·˚

Until now, Wriothesley was used to stay in the Fortress most of his time. It never bothered him. Sigewinne keeps him company, and his prisoners aren't too bad most of the time. Even Neuvillette or Clorinde comes visit him from time to time.

But it changed when he met you. He didn't want you to be that often in the Fortress, and yet he couldn't help but want you. You don't know it, but he even asked Neuvillette for your birthday. It has never been that much of a talk in between you. You were both kind of over it after all. You aren't toddlers for who it is extremely important to get one year older.

But he wants your first birthday with him to be special, to be something you'd remember. He wants to make this day amazing. And for that, he had to have permissions and ensure the paperwork was done before that day. He had to be prepared for any possibility, to be called in for an emergency if someone tried to escape, or if they get overwhelmed and for your day to be ruined.

But he was willing to take that risk.

On your occasional weekly visit, you both talk and drink tea together, as any other time. You're not sure when, yet now, he has you in his arms, holding you close. It is as if he believed you were leaving. He's quick to compose himself and just steals a kiss from you, to hide his worries behind that smirk he always has when he surprises you.

“By the way, I've heard your birthday is soon, isn't it?„ you raise an eyebrow. You haven't told him, yet he knows. “Would you like us to spend the day together?„

You were so sure he meant inside the Fortress of Meropide, that when he mentioned that it wouldn't be there, but in the city, your eyes widened. Of course, you firstly worried about his work. It isn't like he's just a guard who could take a day off or a sick day. He has a prison to keep in place.

But he assured you it'd be alright. And so you trust him. There's no reason for you not to.

Your birthday was soon to come, and you waited for him in front of the Fortress' entrance. Dressed in a pretty outfit, that you kept on for this occasion, you obviously felt amazing. And upon seeing you, Wriothesley grinned. “Someone made herself extra beautiful for today.„

His tone flirty, he wraps his left arm around your waist and pulls you close, pressing his lips on your hair. “It suits you perfectly. But you're always beautiful.„ his words meant the world to you.

And so began the day. Wriothesley is careful, meticulous even. He makes sure you stay hydrated, well fed and have fun. If you want a pastry, he'll buy it without a second thought. This piece of jewerly looks pretty on you? He'll offer it to you, no matter the cost.

It's weird for everyone to see the Duke out of the Fortress. He's respected for sure, and well known. You hold hands all day long, sometimes stealing kisses when you're in a alley or when no one's looking.

When the sun fades away to let the moon takes place, stars show up too. Now sitting near the water, you both look up at the navy blue sky. Wriothesley lets out a sigh and clears his throat. “I hope you had fun. I'm not sure when I'd be capable to have such a long time outside the Fortress without it being work related.„

Sure or not, you're just happy he manages to have time for you. And he's relieved everything went smoothly. He leans closer to you, his lips grazing your cheek. “Happy birthday.„

And even if it has caused him some stress, he's ready to do it over again next year if it makes him see your eyes so sparkly and shiny with delightment and happiness.

He'd risk anything to see you smile and hear your laughers echoing in his ears.

-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹｡ₓ ू ₒ ु ˚ ‧̫‧ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛-

The good part of being a detective is that he knows how to not leave any clue about his true intentions. And so, he can surprise you whenever he wants and you won't even realise he has planned it for a while!

Since Heizou can hardly take a day off recently, you agreed it'd be better if you spend the day with your friends and just leave your evening for him.

It was an amazing day, your friends and you strolled around the city, went to some fancy places and just spoiled you entirely. But it felt off, knowing that Heizou wasn't with you like you wished he could've.

They dropped you by your house, and with a sigh, you stepped inside. Of course Heizou wasn't home yet. It wasn't surprising, he's quite overwhelmed with work lately. Yet there was a small disappointment in your chest. Your heart was a bit heavier. But you brush it off.

By the time he gets home, you had just finished preparing dinner. He steps closer with that shitty grin and clears his throat. “Such a sweetie, making dinner when I hoped I'd have time to treat you today.„ of course, he doesn't want you to do any effort for today, but his schedule decided otherwise.

And so, with a swift movement, he shoves a bouquet against your chest. “I know it isn't much compared to how it could've been nicer to spend the day together, but I hope it'll make it up for it a bit.„

Heizou has always been a romantic at heart, he loves it when he sees your cheeks flushing and feels your breath growing faster from his teasing. And he's delighted to see that sweet blush spreading slowly.

Leaning in close, he takes your hands in his, and presses a chaste kiss on your lips. “Let's eat dinner and enjoy the time we have tonight, alright? I need to make it up for you.„

He lets you take care of the bouquet first, ensuring it won't die just yet. He teases you about your day, plays with you some games and even let you win for once. And needless to say the night ends in something.. more than just flirt and teasing.

But he hopes next year won't be as busy, so he can treat you like the princess you are in his eyes.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ☽ ✧˖*°࿐ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A gambler. That's what he'll always be no matter what, no matter the day. He needs to work every single day, to be a good asset for the IPC. He can't afford losing. He will never accept it.

But today, Aventurine thought it'd be nice to let you experience gambling too. Well, not as much as he usually does, but more in a regular casino. He's obviously well known here, and has some free drinks. But he wants you to enjoy it too.

He teaches you how to do, the ropes of each games. To guess when to stop, and more importantly of course, to understand the rules and that losing can cost a lot. But deep down, Aventurine doesn't give a fuck about how much money you'll lose. He has way more than someone can think of.

Each games were fun, but you hated seeing those girls eyeing him like you don't exist. Don't they see you, the gorgeous girl sitting next to him, with who he holds hands? Or perhaps they don't care. But it frustrates you.

Even more so when one comes closer and accidentally spills wine on Aventurine's jacket. He doesn't react at first. But he grows more and more impatient as she tries to clean her mess.

But he got fed up when she literally sat in between the both of you. Who does she think she is? “Excuse me, Miss,„ with a dry chuckle and bright smile, he stands up and walks behind her, “don't you see her?„

Swiftly, almost as if he has always been ready for it, he pulls you close, your head resting on his chest. Your face flushes bright red of course, but you don't say anything. “She already holds the string. And compared to you, she doesn't care about my money. So if you please, do not dare to bother us further on her special day.„

He leads you away, and yet, casts them a last glance, “Except if you want to face the consequences, that is. But I doubt you would like it.„

He'd never let anyone makes you feel inferior, nor worthless, and even less when it's supposed to be your day. The day he caters to your every need without any complaint or question.

Upon arriving to a new game, away from those nuisance, he holds your hand in his, pressing his forehead against yours. “I'm sorry, darling. But I promise you, you're the only one in my eyes. The prettiest, the cutest, and the most loveable woman I've ever set my eyes on.„

He'd cherish you. He knows the pain, and he wants to keep you away from it. He struggles at time, but every effort is worth of your smile. Every day is a delight to get home to you, to know you're his, and that he's yours.

That he has a home. A home with you.

☆.｡.:*　❥　-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-　☽　.｡.:*☆

What were you thinking when you first confessed to him? Of course you thought he'd reject you. We're talking about Veritas Ratio. But to your surprise, he accepted! But maybe you should've been careful... He's a teacher.

It isn't uncommon for Veritas Ratio to call you stupid or dumb, because you don't understand something or that you made a mistake on something simple. But you also know he'll always be here for you.

Compared to one of his colleage, he isn't particularly rich. Don't get me wrong, he is completely financially stable, and he won't be anytime soon the type to get ruined. But basically, if you need special teaching in something he doesn't master, he won't hesitate to help you with it.

He can't help but put intellect into a bit everything he does. But he knows it can piss you off at times, especially when it's not the moment for it.

Today, he has a long day. Longer than intended. So you nicely bring him lunch. Yet he requests of you to stay until his break is over. You know he isn't one to care about birthdays, but he does remember them if he is supposed to know them. Yours is no exception.

“I'm going to be home later than usual tonight, but perhaps you have any wish for how we spend our time?„ it isn't often that he lets you so openly choose. But you don't wait more time to ask if you could watch a movie and snuggle. You need nothing more than some rest, and so does he.

Laughers fill the empty classroom, except for the both of you. He knows when to not overdo it, especially with you. He will never admit it entirely, but he doesn't want to risk losing you. He can't. Not when you bring him so much by just existing.

There's a reason why he doesn't want you to be to close to that blonde, don't you think? But it doesn't matter.

In the evening, after you shared dinner, you set on the couch with him, snuggling up. His left hand caressing your side while his right one is holding a pen. Of course he can't only watch a movie, he needs to keep on going with his paperwork. But he doesn't entirely focus on it.

However, from time to time, you'd hear from Veritas that he clicks his tongue. He seems rather.. unpleased. And when you take a look, you don't see anything wrong. “Of course you don't, you're too much of an idiot to realise that student's mistake. What a pity.„

Unfortunately for you, you dared to ask what was the mistake.. and now you're in for a lecture. He sits you up and explains to you, in a rather annoyed tone. It isn't a surprise to say that you both don't even noticed when the movie has finished.

You're about to stand up when he holds you back, pulling you in his lap. “Don't you dare run away from my lecture. You asked to know, so you'll know.„ It promises to be an interesting evening and night, especially if you try to push your luck.

Veritas will make sure you get the appropriate punishment if his patience runs out by the time he's done with you.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ੈ✩‧₊˚ೃ⁀➷˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚.ೃ࿐

Have you ever imagined he'd steal your heart? A detective by day, a Phantom Thief by night. He earned his title well, he's definitely a prince in your eyes.

“Are you still listening?„ Akechi inquires. You have to admit, you weren't. You were too charmed into his eyes, shining as he shares his day with you.

“I've been thinking, there's an amusement park not far from here. Would you like to go with me?„ he asks. He isn't really scared of asking you on a date anymore. Of course, he couldn't help but feel like he isn't enough at times. But you love him, right? He can't let his insecurities win over.

And so, you are now on a date with him, on your birthday. He cares for a bit everything. He makes sure the sun isn't hitting you too hard, that you drink enough, and especially have fun.

You're the only one lucky enough to see him almost constantly out of his detective prince persona. To know the real him. He has his issues, and sometimes he may snaps at you. But he apologises and proves that he changes. He already does, but he tries to make sure you know he's willing to become better for you.

You're his light, and he can't lose you. At first, he even thought you loved that coffee shop's employee, but he felt lucky when you reciprocated his feelings.

Since then, Akechi would take you out often. To the beach, at restaurant, or even just for a walk. He wants you to know he cares, and he wants you only. He needs to be careful though, but he makes it work out.

Getting into a bit every attractions, he even ends up winning you a teddy bear. No one is ever too old for one after all, right? As he hands it to you, he presses a kiss on your lips, soft and tender, as if he wants the time to stop.

The sun sets slowly, and you get into the Ferris Wheel to end up the day. It's cozy, just the two of you. He holds you close, his nose in your hair as he breathes in your scent. “Happy birthday, my love.„

Why would he need to say anything more? Your heart races, and you look up at him with a sheepish smile. No one can mistake that expression on both of your faces. You're so undeniably in love with each other.

“I know I fucked up, especially when you discovered what I've done. But I'll become better. For you, and for us. So please, stay with me.„ he couldn't help but squeezing you tighter against him, as if you won't allow him time.

“I love you. So fucking much.„ he whispers as the sun disappears from view, letting the moon rise slowly. He'll always do his best for you, to be worthy of you.

Because he loves you. And he'll make every birthday from now on special for you.

·:¨༺ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　✮　☄. *. ⋆ ༻¨:·

It took him time to allow himself to be vulnerable in front of you. To allow you to see the worst part of him. To see the monster beneath. He was certain he'd lose you. And yet, you're still here, beside him.

William is more than delighted to know you aren't ready to leave him. To know you'll stay. He doesn't entirely understand his feelings himself, but he has them, and that's all that matters.

To say William cares about birthdays is an understatement. He doesn't make big things, but he shows his care for sure. So don't you dare think you'll be an exception.

He has been quite busy lately, but he made sure he'd be here for your birthday. From waking to sleep. He stays in bed with you until you stir awake. Your eyes flutter open, the first sight being his blonde locks.

He presses a gentle kiss on your forehead and lets you get ready while he goes preparing breakfast for you. Going downstairs, you smell the sweet scent of food filling your nose.

He serves you, as well as himself, before eating and letting you talk of whatever comes in your mind. He could listen to you all day long, but today wasn't that. He'd spend some quality time with you, no matter what.

He helps you putting on your coat, and holds your hand as you get inside the carriage. He feels your head resting on his shoulder, and he simply caresses the back of your hand with his thumb.

Getting into town, he dismisses the carriage for now. No need for that. He wants you to enjoy the place. If there's something appealing to you, he'll be ready to let you have it. But in the end, he's mostly the one who wants to buy you things.

A beautiful necklace, it'd go perfectly around your neck. Gesturing you to get closer, he carefully puts it around your neck and smiles. “It looks beautiful on you.„ his voice, smooth and quiet, holds so much love. Without hesitation, he buys it for you.

You walk hands in hands, past bakeries and shops, stopping when something would be nice for you. You're definitely spoiled, and it was unexpected for you. You aren't with William for his money, and he knows it. But today, he wants to make sure you'll remember it.

By the evening, inside the carriage to get back home, he lets you rest against him. It has been a tiring day after all, yet so thrilling. But the best was to come in his eyes.

Entering the manor, the living room has been decorated especially for you, a bouquet from Fred's garden waiting as well as a freshly baked cake by Louis. And they were all here too. Well, some like Sebastian aren't so happy, but they could make that effort.

He has planned it all, and it was worth it. For that smile, those happy tears, and those laughers and happiness filling the manor for the rest of the evening.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚︵‿︵‿୨✧༺♥༻∞୧‿︵‿︵‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

He has never been much of a talker. Ever since you both met, he mostly listened to you, no matter what you'd say. And he has a great memory too.

Fred is a caring man, he just stays quiet. He doesn't want to be noticed, he likes his tranquility, despite the circumstances of his current work under William. He absolutely adores the idea of being in charge of the garden, though.

He doesn't show it, but he appreciates plants and flowers. And whenever you may search him, you always find him there. He's peacefully repotting some flowers, to make sure they can grow further.

His head snaps up when you ask him if you can help. “Shouldn't you.. be with the others, celebrating your birthday..?„ he's unsure. He looks at you with suspicions, but in the end, he relents. You must have your reasons to not be celebrating it with them.

He loves spending time with you, but he doesn't want you to restrain yourself from having a good time just because he's tending to flowers.

But when he sees you, right here, with a smile as you carefully move a flower, it feels him with joy. He doesn't show his love much, he does it through small gestures like making sure there's always some of your favourite flowers in the bedroom for the scent. Or to stay with you throuhough breakfast.

It's those small gestures that makes you love him even more each day. And you just want to spend time with him, especially today.

He shyly scoots closer to you, to correct you. “You shouldn't be doing it like that.. it can hurt the roots.„ he doesn't scold you, he just tries to teach you.

Yet, he doesn't move away once done. He stays close. Until he gathered the courage to press his lips against your temple. “Happy birthday.„

It's cute, the way he quickly walks away to care for other plants. But you just thank him quietly. The day passes in a blur, and without even noticing, the moon is in the sky, and you're both still in the greenhouse.

He holds you tight against him, the garden not over yet but it's too late to keep working. And he has cut a rose to give you, making sure to also cut the thorns so you can't get hurt.

“We should head back inside, it's getting cold.„ he helps you up, until you're both home. He even helps to wash your hands, in your sleepy state.

He never thought he'd enjoy gardening with someone so much, and yet..

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

/ᐠ - ˕ •マ Ⳋ mayuchi's property. do not repost, copy or translate without permission.