#something else i noticed is that there's room for you to add a schedule

[signedreality]

ᯓ       ARGUMENT

        alastor / vox / lucifer / adam / husk x reader (seperate)

ଳ synopsis ; what the hazbin men are like during an argument!

ଳ warnings : profanity, romance, petnames, mentions of death, and silly goofy stuff.

ଳ missive ; i found this on an old document of mine, so i decided to reupload it! enjoy this broadcast! and yes, i did decide to add husk because why not?

now airing ; snap out of it - arctic monkeys

༄.° ALASTOR

it wasn't often you and alastor got into arguments, but when you both did, it was horrid.

not only for you both, but for everyone in the hotel.

you both had gotten into an argument due to you questioning why he had been so distant lately—the inquiry being one alastor took personally as he attempted to inform you he hadn't been distant, and that you were just too busy with the others to even notice when he was present in the room.

while alastor was a gentleman, that argument was filled with a lot of things he wished to take back.

but since he couldn't take those things back, he decided to blow off some steam by murdering whoever he deemed worthless enough to do so.

with alastor and you being irritated, that meant everyone else had to deal with your cranky attitudes.

so, at all costs, they would make sure you both were back on good terms soon.

it had been a couple of days since the bicker, and all it was filled with was tense silence. you didn't even speak to alastor—let alone acknowledge him.

you were sitting on the bed you both shared with a book in hand, and alastor was staring in the mirror with his back turned to you.

the fabric of his bowtie was gripped between his fingers, yet he made no move to tie it. all he could do was just peer into the glass despite being on a tight schedule.

he had a meeting with the overlords, to which he planned to take the egg minions with him due to the fact vaggie demanded he should do something about them. yet, alastor couldn't even bother to acknowledge those things before his eyes flickered up to stare at you from the mirror.

you had always looked so joyed, but with that frown on your face and bags under your eyes from you not sleeping, he couldn't help but let out a low sigh while he let go of the bowtie. he needed to fix this.

"my dear?" alastor softly spoke up—the usual radio static in his voice vanishing. the sound of his real voice made your eyebrows raise as you turned a page. "would you mind helping me with my bowtie? i can't seem to get it right, and i have a meeting soon."

you still didn't look up from your book, which made alastor tap his side for a moment until he continued his words. "please...?"

once an annoyed sigh left your lips, alastor's smile grew slightly while you closed your book.

the novel was set aside as you stood up and walked towards him—your feet freezing right in front of him.

your hands reached up to take the strings of his bowtie into your grasp, and you slowly began to tie the fabric while alastor watched.

eventually, the bowtie was tugged on into the perfect shape as alastor lightly hummed. his hands rose up to gently grasp your forearms as your hands remained on his bowtie—the feeling of his lips meeting yours making your arms wrap around his neck.

"i'm sorry..." the words were mumbled against your lips, "i shouldn't have said those things. i shouldn't have—"

"don't you have a meeting?" you questioned as you pulled back, and alastor looked at you before tilting your head. "am i forgiven?"

"we'll talk about that after your meeting," the declaration made alastor's ears slightly fall back. this made you smile that stunning smile he's grown to favour in his time of being with you.

you placed a soft kiss to his cheek before patting the back of his head. "you're forgiven, but we still need to talk after your meeting."

"will do, my dear!" your news made alastor beam with life as you laughed, and he leaned a bit to press a long kiss to your cheek before he grasped his cane that was leaning against the wall.

"i will see you shortly, darling. i love you!" he had started to stroll out of the door before pausing—his eyes peering over his shoulder as he waited for you to reply.

"i love you too, al."

"and i'm lucky that you do." alastor gave a slight bow before exiting the room and gently shutting the door with a grin on his face.

"FUCKING FINALLY!" alastor froze at the sight of angel dust and charlie standing in front of him, and while angel dust seemed relieved, charlie only gave an awkward smile. "did you two make up...?"

alastor gave the girl a light chuckle before walking past them both, "we certainly did, my dear!"

as alastor continued to walk throughout the hotel, his smile only grew at the thought that you both were okay now. "we certainly did..." he mumbled under his breath.

༄.° VOX

you and vox constantly got into arguments, yet today was different.

the sound of objects being tossed and glitches erupting from vox's office made you sigh as you leaned back in your chair, and the echo of heels clicking on the ground only made you frown.

"ARE YOU GOING TO GET YOUR LITTLE BITCH BOY IN CHECK, OR AM I GOING TO HAVE TO DO SOMETHING!?" velvette's yells made you groan as you tightly closed your eyes.

the woman seemed to notice your irritation as she scoffed, and she walked up to your desk before placing her hands on the wood. "what did you two even gripe about this time? don't tell me it's over some stupid shit again..."

"i told him to calm down when he figured out alastor is back, and then he decided that yelling at me to 'shut the fuck up' was the best option." you spoke clearly while velvette clicked her tongue, "sounds like vox. can't you just go calm the pissy baby for a bit? some of us need to get some work done without the sound of..." her hands gestured towards his office, "that going on."

you gave her a thumbs up while you opened your eyes, and the woman stormed off to where you could only assume was her set.

more crashing erupted from the room as you pushed your chair back—the wheels squeaking while you stood up.

your shoes echoed with each step while you approached the door to vox's office, and once you opened the door, you were quickly met with a cup being tossed besides your head.

"WHAT—" vox's voice was rather glitched out before he took note that it was you, and his lips pursed as you shot him a glare while you entered his office. "watch where you're fucking throwing things..." you mumbled while you started to walk towards him.

"what is it with you an-and always telling me wh-what to do!?" his screen slightly buffered before he scowled at you, "first you tell me to calm down, and now this—"

he was cut off when you pulled his jacket to he would be face-to-face with you, and his words were long forgotten once you placed your lips on his.

his shoulders relaxed a bit before your hands moved to hold his face, and when you pulled back, all you could see was vox's dazed face. the sight made you smile while you stared at him.

"stop acting like a toddler..." you placed kissed all over his face while vox stood there—the frown on his face lightening as he sighed. "i'm not acting like a toddler."

"tell that to your little tantrum." your words were only responded to with vox lightly pinching your arm, to which you laughed before he wrapped his arms around your waist. "why did we even argue, again?"

you raised an eyebrow at him as he patted your sides, "i'm just joking."

"i still haven't gotten a proper apology from you." you taunted while vox closed his eyes for a minute before staring at you.

"i'm sorry."

"DAMN IT, I DIDN'T GET THAT ON CAMERA!" vox hastily pulled you closer before spinning in circles—laughs leaving him while you slightly shrieked.

his movements stopped as he put you into a dip, and a grin was on his face. "this isn't the first time i've said that i was sorry, you know?"

"given how stubborn you are, each time feels like a miracle."

vox only poked your side before leaning down and planting his lips on yours—your arms wrapping around his neck as he held you.

༄.° LUCIFER

when you and lucifer fight, it's really only over the fact on how he acted at first with charlie's hotel.

the way he spoke so lowly of the idea, even if it was on accident, always irritated you. and that led to arguments breaking out.

which also led to lucifer having heavy remorse and wishing for you to forgive him as hastily as possible.

"are you still mad at me?"

"yes."

"when will you not be mad at me?"

"when i decide to not be mad at you." lucifer frowned at your words as he poked your arm.

"honey?"

"yes, lucifer?"

"when will you decide to not be mad at me?"

"when you decide to apologize to charlie and learn how to watch your words."

and as soon as you spoke those words, he hastily rushed away to find charlie.

the sound of his gibberish apologies made you snicker while you grabbed your temples, and his shoes slamming against the floor ended up making you laugh as lucifer rushed into the room.

he launched himself onto the couch and next to you as he shot you a big smile, "i promise to watch my words! and i apologized!"

"you're a weirdo, you know that, right?" you questioned teasingly as you leaned over to softly kiss his forehead, and the action made lucifer beam while he nodded. "but i'm your weirdo," his smile slightly faltered, "right?"

"right."

lucifer grinned in celebration before leaning into your kisses, and he kept replaying your words in his head as he was relieved you were no longer mad at him.

༄.° ADAM

there's really no point in arguing with adam because of how stubborn he is.

"i'm not going to apologize!" adam griped while lute elbowed him in the back—the man letting out a yelp as he shot the woman a glare.

"just go fucking apologize! it's not that hard!"

"NO!" you watched as he flew off while lute rolled her eyes, and you only stared at her with a look that stated she didn't have to do anything.

now, he never did apologize for playing guitar at three in the morning. but if only he had said he was sorry before being brutally killed by nifty.

༄.° HUSK

it's simple—you and husk never get into arguments. never ever.

you both are the type to sit down and discuss what's bothering you both instead of yelling about it.

"hey, husk?" the man peered up from his glass as he stared at you, and he waited for you to continue as you let out a low sigh. "can we talk?"

"of course, what's botherin' ya?"

and no matter what it is, he'll always talk about it and hear you out.

he's just cool like that.

⤷ word count ; 1,855

© signedreality

🌊        reblogs + hearts + comments are appreciated !

[virgoilluminati]

Heyyyyyy,

Can I request a Jude imagine where you attend the match where he does his bicycle kick and you’re just so proud of him ? Established relationship

Thank You

The Final Frame

A/N: i remember watching jude scouring that against slovakia and screaming so loud in the pub it was sooo embarrassing 🙈 ✨Apologies this isn't my longest fic, but i lowkey really love it.

Inspo: You and Jude have been together for two years after you helped treat one of his teammates, as the local surgeon. Despite this, you have never been to a single one of his games, as you barely get time off. One day you decide to surprise him with tickets to the semi finals of the champions league and scores the best goal of his career.

The stadium was a cauldron of noise, filled with tens of thousands of passionate fans. The air buzzed with anticipation as Jude's team prepared for their critical Champions League match. The match had been marked on calendars across Europe, but it held a special place in the heart of one particular spectator.

As a surgeon, you had spent countless nights in the operating room, your hands saving lives and mending broken bodies. Your demanding career often kept you from attending Jude's matches, despite the years you'd spent together. But tonight was different. You had managed to clear your schedule, and for the first time, you found yourself in the stands, eager to witness your partner in his element.

You had kept your visit a secret, not wanting to add any pressure on Jude. His focus needed to be entirely on the game, not on the fact that his significant other was watching from the stands for the very first time. As the crowd roared and the players took their positions, you scanned the field, your eyes locking on Jude. His presence was commanding, his focus unwavering. This was where he belonged.

The stadium was a sea of colors, the team’s vibrant jerseys blending with the scarves and flags of the fans. The air was electric, charged with the energy of thousands of voices chanting and cheering. You took a deep breath, the scent of fresh-cut grass and the faint tang of sweat filling your senses. This was a world so different from the sterile, controlled environment of the hospital. Here, everything was raw and alive.

The game began with a blistering pace. You watched in awe as Jude moved across the field with grace and precision. Every pass he made was calculated, every movement purposeful. He was a maestro, orchestrating the flow of the game with a skill that left you breathless. It was one thing to hear about his prowess on the field, but to see it in person was something else entirely.

It was two years ago when you first met Jude. You had just finished a grueling 14-hour surgery and were grabbing a quick coffee in the hospital cafeteria. The cafeteria was nearly empty, the only sounds the hum of the vending machines and the distant chatter of nurses finishing their shifts. You were exhausted, your mind still buzzing from the intensity of the operation. You had just saved a life, but the weight of the responsibility always left you drained.

Jude had been there visiting a teammate who had injured himself during a match. He was sitting a few tables away, and you noticed his easy smile and the way his eyes lit up when he talked about football with his friend. Despite your weariness, you couldn't help but notice how his presence seemed to brighten the room.

"Hey, do you mind if I sit here?" he had asked, holding his coffee.

"Sure," you replied, too exhausted to care about small talk.

He sat down, and for a moment, there was silence. Then he started talking, and you found yourself drawn into his world. He spoke about his passion for the game, his dreams, and his fears. You listened, fascinated by his dedication and drive.

"You must have a really interesting job," he said, glancing at your scrubs.

You smiled wryly. "It's definitely not boring. I'm a surgeon."

His eyes widened with genuine interest. "Wow, that's incredible. It must be so rewarding, saving lives every day."

You shrugged, a modest smile on your face. "It has its moments."

You exchanged numbers that day, thinking it would be nice to have a friend outside the hospital. What started as casual conversations soon blossomed into something more. Late-night phone calls, stolen moments of time together, and shared dreams brought you closer together.

Your heart raced with every near miss, your hands gripping the edge of your seat. The tension was palpable, each moment hanging in the balance. Jude was everywhere, intercepting passes, setting up plays, and directing his teammates. His passion and determination were evident in every stride he took.

As the match wore on, the score remained deadlocked. The stakes were sky-high, with both teams desperate to secure their place in the next round. Your nerves were frayed, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the field. In the final minute, with the game seemingly destined for a draw, Jude made his move.

You remembered the night before your biggest surgery yet. You had been a bundle of nerves, unable to sleep. The surgery was a complex procedure that would test every bit of your skill and knowledge. The clock read 2:00 AM, and despite the late hour, Jude had stayed up with you, talking through your fears and offering words of encouragement.

"You're going to be amazing," he had said, his voice steady and reassuring. "You always are."

"What if something goes wrong?" you had whispered, voicing the fear that had been gnawing at you.

He had taken your hands in his, his touch warm and comforting. "Then you'll handle it, just like you always do," he had replied. "You're one of the best surgeons in the country. You've got this."

He had then shared a story from his own life, a time when he had been under immense pressure. "It was my first big match with the national team," he said, his eyes distant as he recalled the memory. "I was so nervous I could barely think straight. But my coach pulled me aside and told me something that I've never forgotten. He said, 'Nerves are just a sign that you care. Use them to fuel your performance.' And I did. We won that match, and it was one of the best games of my career."

Those words had given you the strength you needed, the reminder that you were capable of overcoming any challenge. You had gone into that surgery the next day with a renewed sense of confidence, and everything had gone smoothly, just as Jude had predicted. Afterward, you had felt a sense of accomplishment that was indescribable, a feeling that Jude had helped you achieve.

A cross came in from the right, the ball arcing through the air towards the penalty box. Jude's eyes never left it. He leaped, his body twisting mid-air in a perfect bicycle kick. Time seemed to slow as his foot connected with the ball, sending it flying towards the goal. The stadium fell silent, the collective breath of thousands held in anticipation.

The ball sailed past the outstretched hands of the goalkeeper and into the net. For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then, the stadium erupted. The noise was deafening, the joy palpable. Jude had done it. He had scored the winning goal, securing his team's place in the next round of the Champions League.

You leaped to your feet, your voice joining the chorus of celebration. Tears of pride and joy filled your eyes as you watched Jude being mobbed by his teammates. He looked up into the stands, his eyes searching, and for a brief moment, they found yours. You weren't sure if he recognized you amidst the sea of faces, but you hoped he felt your pride and love.

After the match, you made your way down to the players' area, your heart still pounding with excitement. The halls were a maze of concrete and metal, the noise from the stadium a distant roar. When Jude finally emerged, his face lit up with surprise and joy at the sight of you. He rushed over, sweeping you into his arms.

"You came," he breathed, his voice a mix of disbelief and happiness.

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," you replied, holding him close. "You were incredible, Jude. I am so, so proud of you."

He smiled, his eyes shining with emotion. "It means everything to have you here. I can't believe you saw that goal."

You laughed, the sound filled with pure joy. "I've always known you were amazing, but seeing it in person... It's something else."

As you walked together towards the locker rooms, Jude turned to you, his face serious. "I know how hard it is for you to get time off. Thank you for being here. It really means a lot."

You squeezed his hand. "You deserve to have someone here for you. You've always been there for me, Jude. This was the least I could do."

[trippinsorrows]

without you + two

authors note: there's a couple moving parts at play here. some foreshadowing in this one as well. as things get more intense, i'll add appropriate cw/tw's.

do not read this story if you haven’t read ’with me’. it won’t work as a standalone.

warnings: none

song inspo: be without you by mary j. blige

one

words: 6k

Since having a conversation with Callie and reassuring her that nothing and no one could separate her from Y/N and Joe, she’s calmed down a bit with the possessiveness. She’s still very much interested in making him her personal playmate, which he doesn’t necessarily oppose, but she’s also just as interested in playing and spending time with Y/N as well.

It’s balanced out. 

Joe is even able to take Y/N out for date night that includes a hotel room and night spent with just each other while Callie stays the night at Kaylah’s house with Ellie. 

For all intents and purposes, it’s a bit of smooth sailing.

But now, it’s time for meetings.

Because while Joe is on indefinite leave from television and the ring, he still very much has a huge chunk of say in the creative direction of the Bloodline. Thus, scheduled meetings to discuss how that all plays out during his absence are occasional.

Joe is in the middle of listening to Paul and Hunter propose some ideas regarding Joseph, Solo, and his promotion with Joe being off air. He’s about to comment on something when there’s a small knock on the door. 

It’s followed up with the door opening, revealing Callie, her tablet and headphones in hand. Joe hits mute on the mic and computer and turns to her. “What’s up, baby girl?”

Instead of verbally responding, Callie walks over and climbs onto his lap. She hands him the tablet and headphones. “I wanna watch Moana.”

Joe chuckles. “I thought you were taking a nap with mommy.” A planned, scheduled thing because Y/N wanted to give Joe some privacy. Wanted to let him be able to focus and zone in on work without his little twin shadowing him.  

Not that that matters at this moment. There’s no way he’s turning his daughter away.

“I’m not tired.” She replies in the voice of a child who probably is in fact tired but too stubborn to actually sleep.

Joe takes the tablet, putting the passcode in and unlocking it as he gets to work on syncing her headphones.

Callie, meanwhile, looks around and realizes the computer is on, a video conference between the men at play. Curious, she asks in that sing-song voice. “What are you doing?”

Joe matches her tone, answering. “In a meeting.”

Head tilted, Callie follows up with a question he knows is really for something else. “How long is the meeting gonna be?” I.e. how much longer till he can play and spend time with her. 

It brings a smile to his face as she looks over at the screen, waving when she sees Joseph. He quickly hits unmute on both the mic and computer. 

“Hi, cousin Joseph!”

Joseph smiles, “what’s up, Callie?” He then asks. “What you been doing?”

“Playing with daddy!” She answers, leaning over closer to the computer than probably what’s necessary. “How come you and daddy have the same name?”

Joseph laughs, shrugging. “I guess our family really likes the name Joseph.”

Callie suddenly takes a bit of an attitude, correcting almost even though she’s literally the one who said they were the same names. “My daddy’s name is Joe.” 

Joe chuckles. She’s every bit of her mom sometimes. He beckons her to turn around to face him, placing her headphones over her ears. “She’s supposed to be taking a nap with her mama.”

Headphones on but nothing playing yet, Callie turns back to the screen and only then notices Paul and Hunter. She waves enthusiastically. “Hi, Mr. Hunter. Hi, Mr. Paul!”

They laugh and greet her, Hunter asking, “you don’t want to go take a nice nap? I sure wish I could take one.”

She pouts and shakes her head. “Naps are boring.”

“Spoken like a child,” Paul comments, asking Callie, “I bet you could stay up for a very long time, couldn’t you, Callie?”

She nods again, sharing, “one time, I stayed up till midnight.”

The men on the screen do a wonderful job of feigning surprise at her ludicrous admission. Meanwhile, Joe is trying to figure out just when in the hell this child stayed up so late.

But, that’s a conversation for another day.

He opens up Disney Plus, navigating to the Moana splash screen and reaching it to her. He’s not sure if she wants to resume or restart, so he leaves it up to her.

A small part of him thought she’d be on her merry way with her tablet and headphones all synched and ready to go, but he also knew better. Knows his daughter. Cause Callie only proceeds to sit further back against his chest, tablet in hand as her attention is now devoted to the screen in front of her.

He shakes his head, apologizing. “I guess she’s sticking around.” He adds, “her headphones are on, so she can’t hear anything.” His suggestion to buy her the noise canceling ones truly turned out to be the best decision. “Where were we?”

Hunter waves him off. “No worries. We’re all dad’s here.” It’s evident too in the way they interact with Callie and are completely unbothered by her presence, even if unexpected. “I was just running down your potential return timeline.”

Joe quickly checks, looking down to see if Callie is somehow snooping, but she’s completely in the Disney zone. Good. She doesn’t need to overhear any of this. “Alright.”

Hunter jumps right into explaining, “Here’s what we’re thinking. A possible return for Bad Blood which will set the stage for Bloodline Civil War 2 in November. Then from there, start preparation for WrestleMania.”

Joe nods, taking in the timeline, Hunter asking, “whatcha thinking?” A lot. He’s thinking a lot. “You know this is all still up in the air. Just wanna get an idea of when you plan to come back just so we’re ready and doing what we need to do to make that what it needs to be for you.”

And he knows that. Appreciates it. Truth be told, he hasn’t thought a lot about that. His return.  Largely due to the little girl in his lap, the woman upstairs sleeping in his bed as well as the children growing in her stomach.

His family. His family has been his priority. They always will be.

But, he understands that there’s still space to think about his career as well.

“Bad Blood is in October, right?” Y/N is due in September. That’s a month, if that, to be home with the babies. They’ll still be newborns.

“Would he be required to attend all SmackDown tapings following that return?” Paul asks a very valid question, once again proving why he’s such a valuable team member for Joe to have at this point in his career.

Hunter shakes his head. “No. No, of course not. The modified schedule will stay as Joe requested. The SmackDown show immediately following Bad Blood, he’ll need to be at, but we can mess around with specific shows he’s gonna be needed for when we get there.”

Joe nods, appreciative of Hunter willing to accommodate this new part time schedule. There’s no way in hell he could return back to being on the road full time. He couldn’t do that to his family.

Couldn’t do that to Y/N.

“Let me talk to Y/N.” It should be the answer everyone saw coming. “See what she thinks.”

Callie suddenly giggles and shifts on his lap, Joe glancing at the tablet to see it’s a scene with that brainless chicken from the movie. He gestures to her. “And especially this one.”

Hunter laughs a little. “Of course. Take your time. There’s no rush. Joseph’s got this.”

Joe turns his attention to his younger cousin. “You’re doing great already, man.” 

Joseph appears deeply appreciative of the kind words. “Thanks, Uce. That means a lot.” 

Hunter checks the time on his watch. “Well, I’ve got another meeting in a couple of minutes, so Joe just reach out when you have an answer or just to let me know where your head is. Or you can have Paul contact me too.”

“Will do. Thanks again for understanding.”

Hunter lifts his hands. “Hey. You know if anyone gets how important family is, it’s me.” He then suggests, “but a little father to father advice that I’m sure Joseph and Paul would agree with me on….make her take the nap.”

Paul nods almost as enthusiastically as Callie when she was waving. “Absolutely.”

Joseph chimes, shaking his head. “Man, if you don’t, you gon regret it later.”

Joe chuckles, taking it into consideration even though he’s pretty certain it won’t happen. Callie is too hype. Plus, what’s one day without a nap gonna do to her?

———-

Megan fucking hates being paired with Jeremy.

For one, he’s fucking boring.

For two, he’s old and balding.

For three, he’s too nice. And not even in an insincere way. He’s truly a nice, family oriented, God fearing man. All that is fine and shit if not for the fact they’re supposed to be trying to make a sale here. The goal is to end this informal virtual meeting with Roman Reigns at least expressing that he’ll consider the role.

It’s not going to be easy. All that Megan has heard via coworkers and her own deep dive is that the man is extremely family oriented and not interested in doing anything other than spending time with his pregnant fiancé and kid for the next couple months. If not longer.

Still, with the movie primarily filming in Florida and not starting for another month or two, she’s hopeful that their pitch will be enough to win him over.

Well, less she’s more hoping Jeremy will let her handle this.

She can be….very persuasive when it comes to men.

And Roman Reigns is the quintessential definition of what a man is. Because the minute he joins in on the call, all she sees is broad, muscular shoulders, pretty brown eyes and one of the most handsome men she’s ever seen.

Unfortunately, he’s not alone.

No. There’s a kid on his lap. His kid, she’d guess. The little girl has her head down, focused on something else, but even with that angle, it’s hard not to see the similarities.

It definitely kills her mood a little bit. Hard to fanasize about a man fucking you senseless with his kid sitting right there. Still, she does her best to hide the irritation and jumps to introductions before Jeremy can.

“Hi, Roman. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Megan, and this is my colleague, Jeremy. We’re the reps from Apex that’ll be working with you, hopefully, on your next film.” She flashes him the most charming smile she can muster and nearly moans as he also offers a smile. Not as wide. Just as friendly.

“Nice to meet you both. Please. Call me Joe.” Megan crosses one leg over the other. Joe….it fits him. “I’m also sorry about my daughter being here. She’s really been enjoying me being home.” He ends with a chuckle, kid still not looking up. Good. Hopefully, she’ll stay quiet.

Jeremy’s annoying ass, however, just has to stay true to his gregarious nature. “No worries. I got three at home. I get it. What’s her name?”

Megan has to suppress an eye roll as Joe lightly taps on the little girl’s arm. She lifts her head, and he shifts her headphone so one ear is exposed.

He asks, “can you say hi and tell them your name?”

She pouts a little, voice soft and almost unsure. “Hi. My name is Calista.”

“What a very pretty name, Calista.” Jeremy is quick with the introduction. “My name is Jeremy, and this is my friend, Megan.” 

Megan has to force herself to tap into the truly non-existent kid-interacting skills she has. “Hi there, Lis.”

Her pout deepens as she corrects with a fucking attutude, “my name is Calista. Not Lis.”

“Callie,” Joe lightly chides Calista or Callie or whatever her fucking name is. Little brat shouldn’t be there anyway. “Be nice, baby girl.”

“It’s okay,” Megan smiles. One of the first things on the list will need to be finding the brat a boarding school of some sort. She seems pretty young, but there has to be something out there. “My apologies, Calista.”

Megan is relieved when the kid places the headphone back on, tuning out the adults. And to be fair, she’s not the only one turning out because while she’s partially annoyed Jeremy then takes over the handling of the meeting, it allows her time and space to fawn over the man on screen. 

God, he’s so damn handsome, and his smile is infectious. She finds herself pushing back her own smile whenever Jeremy makes one of his lame ass dad jokes that somehow Joe seems to find funny. 

Must be a father thing.

The request for his real name to be used leads to Megan subtly grabbing her phone and googling him yet again. She can never remember his last name. It’s complicated as fuck.

Anoa’i. 

She doesn’t know how to pronounce it but decides to save that for another conversation. Preferably when his failed Plan B isn’t around. 

She finds herself doodling on her legal pad. 

Megan Anoa’i.

She can’t help the smile this time around. The pronunciation may still be unknown, but it looks damn good on paper.

Way better than Y/N Anoa’i.

But speak of the fucking devil, and she will appear. 

Because Megan watches Joe turn his head to the side and gesture over someone who turns out to be Y/N herself, thanks to Jeremy saying something about wanting to say hi.

God, she hates this man.

Y/N apologizes, and Megan has to hold back her scowl at the woman on screen, her hand on her big ass pregnant stomach. 

“Hi. I’m sorry,” she chuckles, other hand moving to Calista’s shoulder. “I just came to get this one who was supposed to be taking a nap with me.” She leans down, kissing the side of the little girl’s neck, making her giggle.

Good lord. Is this a fucking family reunion?

Jeremy also laughs. “Don’t worry about it. She’s semed real focused on that tablet versus any of our boring conversation.”

Megan forces herself to join in even though it literally kills her to talk to this woman. Like seriously, what the hell does Joe see in her anyway? If they only had one kid, she’d bet it’s because the bitch trapped him with a kid. But now two kids?

Maybe she gives good head or something.

Megan is better though.

“Oh, I bet whatever she’s watching is way cooler.”

Y/N lands her eyes on Megan. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

Megan forces a deeper smile and little laugh. “Megan. I’m sorry, I don’t think I offered it. Sometimes, I space out a bit during these types of things.”

“Don’t even worry about it. I’m a teacher. I get it.” She doesn’t remember asking this bitch what she does for a living but okay. “I’ll just escort this one….” 

Caliope or whatever the fuck her name is starts to whine, and it’s irritating as fuck. “I wanna stay with daddy.”

“Daddy’s gotta work,” Y/N emphasizes, offering a potential compromise Megan hopes the kid goes for. “Come help me make dinner, and you can have ice cream for dessert.”

That does it as the girl gasps, jumps off Joe’s lap, and sprints off, out of view. Good.

Y/N laughs and waves bye. “It was nice meeting both of you.” The feeling isn’t mutual, but Megan musters up another smile and feels utterly relieved when they both leave.

If only Jeremy would do the same that way things could be as they should.

Just Megan and Joe.

—-------------

Mom: Hi, baby. Just got out of evening service, and you fell heavy on my spirit. I just want you to know I’m always here for you, and I know I always raised and told you how strong we as black women are. But, I don’t know if I told you enough how we don’t always have to be strong.

Mom: You’re about to be a mother again to three babies at the same time. That’s a lot on anyone, even with the support you’re gonna have. I guess what I am trying to say is that I hope you know you can always talk to me if you need it. 

Mom: Talk to Joe. Your sister. Someone. Just never think that you’re alone.

Mom: Love you, and I’ll try to call you tomorrow. ♥️

You have to read over your mom’s texts a couple of times before shaking your head and chalking it up to her just being an overtly concerned mom who’s worried about her daughter who just moved away from home. 

Regardless, you appreciate her kind words even if they don’t necessarily seem….well…..necessary.

There was a bittersweet theme to your first pregnancy, the absence of Joe and not having him as your partner noticeable, maybe more than you initially realized. But, that was then, and this is now. He’s back in your life. For good. You’re about to commit yourself to this man until death do you part.

You’re about to welcome three beautiful babies in the fall. The most strength you’ll need to deal with whatever stress or trial your mom believes is coming will probably be limited to the fact that you’ll have to push out three children at the same damn time.

And even then, Joe will be right by your side.

So again, while you forever love your mom and her thoughtfulness, she’s worried for nothing.

The person who should be worried is your future husband who suddenly walks into the bedroom, brushing his hands together. “Okay, kitchen is all clean, Callie Bear is sleep—” You snort, grabbing the remote to pause the episode of Judge Judy you were watching. “What?”

“Didn’t you say you didn’t make her take a nap today?” 

He looks from side to side confused. “Yeah. She said she wasn’t tired.”

Covering your mouth to hold in your laugh, you inform him as kindly as you can, “then that child is not asleep.”

“I put her down for bed. She was falling asleep when I left.”

You sigh. Your poor, handsome future husband is so naive. “Did you take her tablet when you left?”

“No, cause she was sleep.”

“Joe, I bet you any money that lil’ girl is in her room right now on that tablet watching Disney Plus or playing Roblox cause I know you forgot to put the passcode back on it too.” He opens and then closes his mouth. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” You sit back against the pillows, grabbing a couple more pretzels from the bag you were eating out of. “You’re gonna have to go in there and set her lil’ ass straight. Because she’s gonna be irritable as hell too since she didn’t have her nap.”

He sucks his teeth. “I keep telling you she’s sleeping.” You roll your eyes, chewing on the pretzels and sipping some of your sweet tea. “And if she’s not for some reason—”

“She’s not.”

“—I’ll just tell her to go to sleep.”

That makes you almost choke on your food. “That’s funny. You think it’s just gonna be that easy? Joe, you haven’t seen Callie throw a tantrum before. She’s a lil’ nightmare. You can’t be that super sweet daddy. You gotta be stern with her.”

He shakes his head. “I got this, okay?”

You lift your hands in a defensive position. “Okay.” Grabbing the remote to hit play, you start humming the Undertaker music as he walks away. 

“Annoying ass,” he mutters under his breath, exiting the room. 

Joe is more than certain he’s about to prove you wrong and come back with a smug ass disposition that’ll lead into taking advantage of Callie being sleep by fucking you senseless and reminding you why you also call him daddy.

There’s only one problem with his plan.

Callie is very much not sleeping and instead sitting near her play area.

On that damn tablet.

It takes a second for him to take in the scene before him. “Callie, why aren’t you in bed?” 

She ignores him, continuing to play on her tablet. “Calista.”

It’s only then she whines out, “what?”

That takes Joe back for a second. He can’t recall a time where she’s said as such. “Don’t what me. I thought I told you to go to bed.”

She murmurs, mouth pouted. “I don’t want to go to bed.”

Fuck. This is the first time he’s actually had her push back on him. Experienced a side of Callie that isn’t 100% agreeable. “Callie, it’s late, and you need to get in the bed. Now. I’m not gonna—”

“Be quiet,” she whines, cutting him off, turning her back toward him. 

Joe is nearly rendered completely silent. He’s never known Callie to be capable of disrespecting anyone like this. 

“Callie.” Joe tries to make his voice sound stern. Emphasis on try. Because as frustrated as he’s getting, she’s still his little girl. “It’s time for bed.”

She’s unmoved, still sitting in the corner on her tablet as she shouts out, “I don’t want to go to bed!”

Joe has to mentally count backwards from 10 before trying yet again to get his almost 5-year-old daughter to just go to bed. “I understand that, Callie, but you need your sl—“

Again, she cuts him off, hitting the ground as she screams, “I said no!”

Joe closes his eyes and shakes his head. Without another word, he’s down the hall and in the master where you’re still laid comfortably up in the middle of the bed snacking on some pretzels and enjoying the court case on the TV.

You land your eyes on him, head tilted as you ask with an intentional amount of inauthentic sweetness, “how’d it go, Mr. Gentle Parenting?”

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “Fine. You win. She’s not listening at all. What should I do?”

You smirk and close up the bag of pretzels, carefully climbing out the bed. “Watch and learn, Daddy.” You clap your hands to get rid of the salt remnants, providing him some context on just how he got here. “Because you didn’t make her take her nap, she’s extra irritable because she’s tired even though her lil’ stubborn ass is too hard headed to realize it. So you gotta be extra bold with her.”

You can tell he’s partially confused or just not in agreement, clearly needing a demonstration. Taking his hand, you lead him out of your shared bedroom and into hers. 

“Calista Manaia Anoa’i, if you don’t get your little ass off that damn tablet and into the bed right now.” His eyes widen a bit at your tone. You’re not yelling, not screaming, but you’re definitely not using the typical tone used with her.

Callie looks up from her tablet with determination that’s a bit wavered. “But, I’m not sleepy!”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t care if you’re sleepy or not. Your daddy and I say it’s time for bed, so it’s time for bed, sis.”

“But—”

You lift a finger to silence her. “Calista. I brought your little butt in this world, and I’ll take you out.” You point to her bed. “Bed. Now.”

Joe watches with slight amazement as Callie stomps over to hand you her tablet and stomps right back over to her bed, climbing in, still pouting. 

“And don’t you ever disrespect your dad like that again, you understand me, lil girl?” She doesn't say anything, but she doesn’t need to because you know she knows you mean business. 

But it’s when her bottom lip starts to tremble and she starts to ‘cry’ that Joe damn near acts like the girl just got her arm broken. 

He starts moving toward her. “Cal—”

You stop him, however, instead telling Callie, “if you wake up in the middle of the night and wanna come sleep with us, you can.”

But Callie is too busy with her tearless crying, shouting again, “I don’t want to go to bed!”

Ignoring her, it literally takes you lightly pushing on Joe’s chest to guide him out of the room as you close the door to her bedroom, partially obscuring the sound of Callie screaming.

“She’s upset. We can’t just leave her.” He seems just about as upset as his unruly four-year-old twin.

You turn around and correct him. “No, she’s throwing a tantrum because she didn’t get her way.” And before he can protest, you point out, “did you see any actual tears coming out her eyes? Exactly.”

“But—“

You wait until the two of you are back in the room before placing your hands on his chest, trying to butter him up a bit before hitting him with the truth. “Baby, I love you so much. You’re such a good dad, but when it comes to this discipline thing, you suck.” He rolls his eyes. “I told you she’s a nightmare when she’s having one of her temper tantrums.”

He really has no need to worry about her. You’ve done this song and dance countless times to know how it works. In less than ten minutes, she’ll be out like a light. 

Joe scoffs. “Yeah, well, she gets all that attitude from you.”

You can only also roll your eyes because he’s not entirely wrong. Joe is legitimately a chill ass person. You’re the one who’s got the smart mouth from time to time. Or maybe more often than not. “Maybe so, but you still love me and all my attitude so….” 

He moves his hands to your ass, pulling you into him. “Damn straight….”

And before he can kiss you, you hit him with the truth you’ve been sitting on since this afternoon. “So are you gonna willingly tell me about that movie they want you to be in or do I have to fuck it out of you? I mean, I’m cool with either.”

“How about we skip the movie talk and just fuck instead?”

“Nice try.” You lean up and kiss the corner of his mouth. “Get to talking, baby.”

“I knew your ass overheard something.”

“I’m a mother, Joe. I hear and see everything.” Moving away to grab your bag of pretzels, you again remind him. “Now start talking.”

He shrugs. “It’s an action movie.”

“Not just any action movie, they’re rebooting Reacher and want you to have a leading role. Baby, that’s huge. You know that’s one of my favorite shows too. The only man I would ever consider leaving you for.” It’s more a joke than anything, even though Alan Ritchson is not hard on the eyes at all. “Seriously, Joe, it’s a great opportunity.”

“I get that, Y/N, but I’m taking a break from work.”

“No, you’re taking a break from wrestling. There’s a difference.” You motion him over to the bed, patting the spot next to you. He comes and plops his body down. “I heard them, Joe. It’s filming here in Florida. Less than what, an hour away?” His silence is the answer. “And you wouldn’t even need to be there all the time. 2 or 3 days out of the week, max.”

Realizing what’s probably got him most hesitant, you close up the pretzels, placing the bag back on the nightstand. Sliding closer to him, you place his hand on your stomach. “Joe, I’ll be fine. The babies will be fine. Callie will be fine not having her best friend around 24/7. It’s not like you’ll be on the road like you are with wrestling. You’ll still be close enough if we need you.”

“I don’t want you feeling like I’m putting my career first.”

“I would never think that, Joe. Ever. With everything you’ve done for us, there’s no question where your focus is.” This man has been too good to you for you to ever even think he’s about anything other than his family. “I just think this would be great for your career, and I know you’re at least a little bit interested or else you wouldn’t have even agreed to hear them out.”

The guy seemed cool. The woman was alright. Just your average looking white woman. Nothing to write home about. But, they represent something much bigger, an amazing opportunity for Joe to further his career, to possibly transition into something else fully when his wrestling days are done.

“Besides, you said it yourself, you didn’t have to go to Hollywood, Hollywood came to you.” You do your best to imitate him from one of his stellar promos. It makes him smile and laugh a bit.

“Yeah….” He then shares. “Met with Hunter today too, and he asked if I would be open to returning around October.”

You shrug, no strong opinion on that. “That sounds reasonable to me.”

He looks at you, an expression of disagreement on his handsome face. “The babies will only be a month or so old.”

“I’m aware.” You move your hand to the hair at the nape of his neck. “But, you’re still gonna transition to the part time schedule once you return, right?” He nods. “So, it’s not like you’ll be gone consistently. My mom will probably still be here. Kaylah’s here. Alexis is here. We have a really great support system, baby. It doesn’t have to be all on you.”

“What about Callie?” He asks, clearly a high priority point for him. You as well, but Joe’s concern is probably a bit deeper than what’s necessary. “She’s already scared I’m going to leave her.”

“And you will sometimes, because that’s the nature of what you do. We’re working with her on that though.” And you are. Gradually getting Callie to a place where she isn’t as anxious about something happening to her parents. “Plus, she’ll be in kindergarten at that point, so it’s not like she’ll be moping around the house all sad. She’ll also have ballet.”

Not wanting to be too pushy, you decide to leave the ball in his court. “It’s completely up to you, Joe. Just know whatever you decide, I support you, baby.” You take his hand in his. “I’ve also been thinking about the wedding.”

He looks down at you. “And?”

“I think we should wait until next summer to have it.” Before he can protest or ask follow-up questions, you explain, “I don’t want to walk down the aisle big and pregnant. Plus, there’s realistically not enough time for us to plan a wedding before the babies get here. Not to mention, trying to coordinate everyone’s schedule so the people we want to attend can do so is virtually impossible with such a short timeframe.” Because you can’t imagine having a dream wedding if the people you love and care about the most can’t be present. “The babies will be almost a year old. It gives everyone time to clear their schedule. I won’t be as big as a house…it’ll just be better that way.”

You know he knows that you’re right. He doesn’t appear to be happy with it though. “I hear you. I just….” He scratches his beard. “I hate the idea of having to wait that long for us to get married.”

Frowning, you agree with him there. “Me too, but—”

“What—” He cuts you off, looking at you. “What if we didn’t?”

For a second, your heart stops. “Didn’t get married?”

He’s quick to shoot that down. “No. No. The opposite. What if….what if we got married now?” And just like you, he jumps straight into explanations. “We can still have a wedding. As big or whatever as you want it to be, because you deserve that. I wanna give you that. But…but what if we just legally got married now and the wedding is just for the social and show aspect of it?”

The more he talks, the better you’re able to follow along. “Like….like we just go to the court house?”

Your voice must unintentionally indicate some level of disagreement. “I know it’s not how you probably imagined it—”

Cutting him off, you place your hand over his that’s still resting peacefully on your stomach. “I would marry you under a bridge if that’s what it took, Leati.” His eyes soften as your lips curve into a small smile. “But, we don’t need a bridge, because we’re going to the court house.”

He seems genuinely surprised. “Yeah?”

It’s not a hard sell. At all. You love this man. He’s your best friend. Your lover. Your soulmate. Being married legally before the actual wedding is actually a brilliant idea. You want more than anything for you all to share the same last name. 

Smirking, you get up and climb onto his lap, your baby bump providing a little bit of a barrier.

“Alexa.” You call out, locking eyes on him as you make your request. “Play Let’s Get Married by Jagged Edge.”

———-

“.....Because I am Wrestlemania!”

Megan’s thin lips turn upwards into a big smile. She likes the video and adds it to her ‘Lover ♥️’ playlist on YouTube. Private, of course. It must be the 50th video she’s added. She quickly clicks the back button to see the result list that has nothing but Roman Reigns videos.

Watching him, watching Joe is such an experience. It’s fascinating to her how he can be such a dominating, narcissistic presence on screen but such a gentle soul behind the scenes. It’s fascinating and impressive as hell how he navigates both roles so seamlessly.

Makes him even more attractive. 

But, it’s when a video with Cody Rhodes from the latest SmackDown show appears in her list that she scowls. Megan still can’t believe Joe actually dropped the belt for her. For Y/N.

She’s read articles, seen the gossip on wrestling blogs. The internet wrestling community seems to be torn on that. Half say it was time anyway and that Cody needed to ‘finish the story’ while the other half say Joe himself asked to be relieved so he could spend more time with his family.

And with that fat bitch pregnant with his second child, the second choice seems more believable to her.

Megan groans and turns on her back. She truly cannot see nor understand why Joe ever settled with the likes of that. This man is a god among men, yet he chose a maggot.

He reproduced with that unworthy bitch. 

She grabs her phone and goes to his profile again, the latest option in her search history. His page is nearly perfect, filled with Roman based posts except for the last three. No. He just had to ruin the algorithm by posting them. The first personal post is a picture of him, Y/N, and the spoiled little brat, Cathy. The caption is long and essentially him defending them. 

From what Megan read online as well as what Paige sent over, Y/N had an ex best friend that leaked a lot of shit online. Some true. Some untrue. Apparently, ever since getting slapped with a slate of lawsuits, one or two of which could include jail time, she’s gone dark.

Unfortunate considering she almost got rid of Y/N for Megan.

The second post is of the bitch. From some date night he took her on or something.

What-fucking-ever. 

And the latest post is of the kid with some sappy caption.

Again, what-fucking-ever.

Humming his theme song, Megan climbs off the bed and opens up her top dresser drawer. She digs around, pulling out her favorite red lingerie set and putting it on. Grabbing her phone, she moves to her bathroom, using the mirror attached to the back of the door to snap a couple photos. 

Settling on her favorite photo, she uploads the photo, smiling at her caption.

[wosoragebaiter69]

ignored

alexia putellas x fem!reader

request: here

A/N: this photo is my roman empire and new tiktok pfp 😜 (my titles on fics or SO over dramatic icl)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Being the second captain of Barcelona, meant coming with a few responsibilities. Like showing new players around, and trying to include them in the atmosphere to make the whole move less daunting. It probably makes sense considering we are the best in the world.

Which is what’s happening right now, we’ve signed a new centre-back, considering we barely have any due to injuries. Currently we rely on a defensive midfielder, and anyone we deam can do it. Not ideal. January transfer is like heaven.

We walk around, talk about our lives a little bit as I try to make conversation more homey. Apparently she has a girlfriend who plays for PSG and I talk about Alexia, my other captain and long-time girlfriend. Who may (definitely) have a slight jealousy problem.

After a while of talking and walking, we make it to the gym and I announce the arrival.

“Everyone! As you know, we have a new person joining us! Make her feel welcome, included and we won’t have any problems. Got it?” They nod their heads going back to their respective activities as the new recruit smiles fondly at me, something which doesn’t go missed by Alexia.

I turn to face the CB.

“Now you, let’s get you headed for the locker room. I’ll show you your area and then you can go home for now. I’m assuming Jona has emailed you a schedule of everything?” She nods.

“Alright, now message me if you need anything and I’ll add you to the main group chat all of the girls are in.” She smiles and I lead her toward our changing rooms showing her where she’ll be.

“You can decorate a little bit, add some personality like some of the girls have. Anything you need can be kept here.” I point to a door at the end of the room.

“That’s the showers, obviously if you’re going anywhere after trainings. I know Patri likes to play music, so I suggest some strong noise-cancelling headphones if you don’t like the music. Any questions?” She shakes her head, I smile.

“Well then, go home. Settle into the new apartment, Ale and I live pretty close to you. Same with Ingrid and Mapi, who are also willing to answer anything else you have in mind.”

I pause.

“Now, if that girlfriend of yours ever comes to visit I’d like to meet her, I know it seems straightforward but I do like meeting new people.” I notice the recruit blushing, and pat her shoulder before leaving.

- - - - -

Over the next couple days, I ensure the new defender is fitting in well and she is. Hanging out with Ingrid and Frido but also Keira and Aitana, it’s good to see.

Alexia might think differently. I noticed her getting worked up over something but I can’t imagine what. I can but I don’t know how when a quick instagram search could cease any of her worries. She’s too straight headed for that.

It’s after training when I see her approach, I’m speaking on tactics in the locker room when Alexia slides in next to me, her arm wrapping protectively around my waist. I smirk then hear what she has to say.

“Ready to go home amor?” She says, kissing my neck softly, something she’d rarely do in such a public setting. I stifle my laugh nodding and saying my goodbyes to everyone else, getting in the passenger seat of our car as Alexia insists she always drives.

I sigh, her jaw is set and I can tell something is wrong.

“Alexia, qué pasó?” She shakes her head, her knuckles growing whiter as she grips the steering wheel. I know I can’t do anything but I seem so helpless at the moment.

It’s a completely different change from the confidence in the change rooms to now not even speaking to me.

We head inside without saying a word, I head straight for a shower to hopefully get a grip on where the conversation with Alexia will lead.

- - - - -

After the shower, I walk into the living room and Alexia is sat with her legs crossed in the couch, staring straight ahead at the blank TV. I break the silence.

“If you stare at the poor TV any longer I think it’ll break.” She doesn’t say anything, just nodding slowly her eyes darting toward me before back in front.

“I will not do this Ale. You need to tell me your feelings or we can’t work this out.” She huffs leaning back.

“Lo siento, I just… missed you.” Her voice quiet, I nod in understanding, I spent a lot of time with the new defender.

“So in other words, you’re jealous?” She blows an air bubble between her lips. (do you guys know what i mean by that)

“Maybe.” I can barely hear her voice but I don’t need to.

“Well baby, nothing to worry about because A. she has a girlfriend and B. I love you more than anything. Never forget that. I’ll try make more time and maybe we can meet the new ones girlfriend when she comes to Spain.” She nods slowly.

“Sorry I acted this way.” I shake my head.

“No, it’s ok. I understand, I sort of put you aside. I’ve learnt and I’ll prioritise your feelings a little bit more in the future.” She nods, tears glistening in her eyes.

“Te amo Ale. Remember it forever.” I place my lips against hers, gently and full of passion that I’d never give to anyone but her.

When oxygen gets the best of us I rest my forehead against hers, breathing in everything of this moment. Oh, I never want to leave.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To a Tea 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc. 

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU 

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk. 

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 

Summary:  A demanding customer grows increasingly needy.

Character:  Raymond Smith

The title is a pun, don’t @ me.

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved. 

You don’t often miss work, but that week, a burst pipe throws everything off. A morning spent waiting on your landlord, then the next few hours for a plumber, has things a bit off kilter. Even the next day, you’re not quite back on point. 

The patched wall next to fridge reminds you of the disaster and a dingy smell persists. You hope it doesn’t cling to you as you set off for your shift that day. If you can, you want to pick up some hours from others if their up for grabs. Harry doesn’t like Saturday’s, maybe he’ll hand over some. 

You try to leave your problems behind as you catch a bus down to the city centre. You get to the tea shop five minutes before the hour. Jenna’s wrapping up the opening tasks as you go to leave your things in the back. You tie on your apron and unlock the front door for the first customers of the day. 

At first, it’s a trickle. Never very much at all. The early risers who often come alone or if they aren’t, they don’t speak much or very loudly. The smell of fresh baking and the slow rising sun add to the lazy din. 

“Thought the special was strawberry today,” you comment as you transfer macarons from a cooled tray to the display. 

“Eh, it was but we didn’t have enough jam,” she shrugs. “Changed the sign, is all.” 

“Ah, thought my mind was lagging again. Everything’s been off since yesterday.” 

“Eh, how’s the apartment, anyhow? Marilyn said it was something about a leak?” 

“Burst pipe,” you explain, “they took out the wall above the sink, buncha clanging all day. When I tell you this place is like heaven.” 

She chuckles, “can be.” 

“There’s a formal tea booked in the Marigold Room at noon,” she intones, “forgot to mention that. With Mother’s day coming up, suppose we’ll get more bookings.” 

“Suppose,” you go to check the schedule hanging on the wall. “Party of twelve, wow.” 

“I’ll man the till. Honest, since those ladies at New Years, I’ve hated doing them.” 

“No problem, Harry should be here, shouldn’t he?” 

“Well, he’s... called in.” 

“Again?” You whine as you face her. 

“Are you really surprised?” She scoffs. 

“No one else to cover? Not even Louisa?” 

“Nah, she’s on holiday still.” 

You huff, “fine. Not much of a choose then, is it?” 

🫖

The tea room is as close to raucous as you’ve ever heard it. You have your back to the rest of the shop as you balance the stacked serving trays with an array of sponge cake, fruit, and biscuits. It’s the typical assortment for a tea party booking. 

You’ve already served the tea and the sandwiches, and dessert is the last bit, along with any further pots needed to be steeped throughout. With a partner, it isn’t hard to keep up, but alone, it’s rather overwhelming. Jenna does her best to assist but there aren’t many lulls around lunch time. 

Beyond that, the tourists are chatty. You could hardly get away to fetch each course as they wanted to chat about the culture and your suggestions of what they should do next. It’s nice that they’re friendly but still stressful. 

You put the trays on the cart and roll it around the counter. As you do, you nearly skid to a halt. In the rush, you hadn’t noticed him. Your eyes meet Raymond’s as he watches you. Intent, intense. You give an apologetic smile and nod in acknowledgement. Jenna wanted to deal with the main room, she’ll have to wipe down his table and do her best. 

You roll behind the wall and into the Marigold room. You present the tray and grab it by the ring at the top, lifting it onto the centre of the table. You roll around to gather the empty plates and cups, taking two pots for refill. 

You come back out and see Raymond standing, just as he was. He sees you too. Watching, hands folded, knuckles white, jaw set. He’s usually patient but you don’t know how long he’s been waiting. 

You roll behind the counter and sigh, clearing off the cart as Jenna steams a tea latte. 

“Can you wipe Raymond’s table?” You ask. 

“Who?” She furrows her brow. 

You glance over your shoulder toward the man in question and she follows. She rolls her eyes, “I tried, I wiped the the table. He didn’t sit.” 

“Hm, well... did you wash your hands first?” 

“Christ Almighty, what is he a child?” 

“Jen, he’s just... you know, my mom’s the same. He can’t help it.” 

“You can deal with him. I won’t be arsed,” she sniffs, “he was rude and you know I don’t got time for those ones.” 

“Jenna, I’m kinda up to my eyes,” you dump the used bags from a pot. “I know he can be prickly but just wash your hands and redo the table.” 

“Ugh, fine,” she sneers, “but you owe me.” 

“Let’s call it even,” you retort as you pour boiling water into the pots mouth. 

She shakes her head and huffs, “guess it is.” 

🫖

It’s nearly three in the afternoon. It’s quiet. Harry’s on his phone instead of doing the cups and your wiping the empty tables to keep yourself moving. The door opens and you glance over to make sure Harry’s alert. He’s not. 

Doesn’t matter. It’s him. Raymond. You stand and clutch the cloth tight in your hand as you greet him. 

“Be right with you, Raymond,” you assure him. 

He barely looks at you as he goes to wait next to his table. You go behind the counter and mutter under your breath in Harry’s direction, “...dirty cups.” You wash your hands and make sure to clink some of the empty porcelain in an effort to draw your coworker’s attention. He’s still entranced by his phone. 

You take the disinfectant wipes and go back out. You approach Raymond as he checks his watch. 

“How are you today?” You ask. 

He grumbles and shrugs, “fine.” 

“English Breakfast, black,” you declares as you finish wiping up, “usual.” 

“So you remember,” he challenges as he steps close, closer than ever, before sidling around to sit. 

“Of course, I always do,” you smile. 

“And last time?” 

“Last time...” 

“Twice.” 

You’re confused. What is he talking about? 

“I came on Tuesday and you weren’t here. Then on Thursday, you didn’t even say hello.” 

“Oh, well, I’m sorry, Raymond, it was a busy day. Tuesday, I had a personal emergency so I didn’t even know you’d been in--” 

“I’ll have my tea now,” he interjects tersely. 

“Right, tea,” you confirm and spin around. 

“Crooked strings,” he remarks dully, “again.” 

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part Six

Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader

Summary: A few weeks after your first mission with Miguel, he shows up at your apartment to show you something.

Word Count: 10,161 (Someone needs to take my laptop away from me. I promise this will be the longest part. I won't let it happen again.)

Warning: Soft Miguel; Sad Miguel; It made me wish for summer to end even more; Some readers may not recognize some food items mentioned but it's not too important for the plot, however, you can find a guide right here if you want to know what they look like; Slight mention of abuse

Music inspo while writing:

"Luna de Xelajú" - Gaby Moreno, Oscar Isaac (I love this song so much. The Gaby and Miguel edits with this song make me want to sob each time 🥹)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine |

Part Six

The trees in your city slowly change colors as the weeks go by. The greenery of summer fades only for nature to offer its orange, yellow, and red hues on your morning patrols. The sun retreats into hiding sooner, while the moon and stars emerge earlier, lighting the early, chilly evenings. It’s finally autumn. Coffee and book shops play autumnal music in the background as quiet and intimate conversations take place in small, cozy corners. The sweet scent of cinnamon and coffee fills the air. People walk the streets wearing cozy and warm apparel, coffee in hands to provide warmth. When you walk on the busy sidewalks of your city to buy groceries, you see the lively colors of autumn behind condensed window displays. You take notice of the faux autumn leaves and twinkling lights. The sight of mums and pumpkins meets you here and there.

You begin to go out to bookshops more often. You spend time with your friends, both outside and during work. Your friendship with them grows stronger. They visit you in your universe as you start inviting them for dinner at your humble apartment. You slowly begin to talk about Peter with them, feeling easier to bring him up each time you do so.

Many weeks have gone by since your first mission with Miguel. It’s not the last one. You find yourself going on missions with Jess, one other person, and him once a week now. You are no longer surprised by it. It’s normal. One week he assigns you to the same side of the city he works on, the next one he doesn’t. It’s a pattern. Each time you work on the same side, he suggests that the two of you swing through the city when you’re both done scanning for anomaly matter.

It's part of the surveillance and learning plan he has implemented, of course. So, this makes perfect sense. Every other week, you find yourselves on the tallest building’s rooftop, overseeing the city. Sometimes you talk briefly. Sometimes Miguel tells you about anomalies that have been caught from that universe in the past, before your recruitment into the Spider Society. Before you knew of each other’s existence. Other times, it’s you who tells him about anomalies you have caught with other colleagues. You listen intently to each other’s words as a form of respect and trust.

You continue to organize Miguel’s lab. With the weekly assigned missions, your time organizing his lab, and the minutes before scheduled meetings that add up, you begin to spend roughly four hours around the founder and commander of the Spider Society each week. You continue to take coffee for meetings, arriving early as always. Miguel sometimes talks to you about the anomalies from the previous week before anyone else arrives, your conversation ceasing when other ears enter the room. Sometimes you take food to him when you arrive to organize the lab. Miguel is no longer surprised like he used to be about the coffee cups, or like the first time you took him empanadas weeks ago. He accepts the food, and thanks you.

Without fully realizing it, there’s a shift between the two of you. So subtle, like the changing leaves of trees in autumn.

It’s the first of November. You walk around your apartment with your fall playlist playing in the background as you do random chores even though it’s ten at night. You do laundry you needed to catch up on. You put away the little amount of Halloween decorations you have. You wash dishes and clean the kitchen. You fix the throw blanket on your couch. You dust your furniture. It’s all a bunch of random chores that you’ve been meaning to do but have been too busy to get done over the week due to missions, patrolling your city, and Halloween. A lot of petty crimes occur on the holiday because people think they can get away with it if they wear costumes.

You’re also hit with a random spur of energy, so you take advantage of it. You move quietly around your apartment, your music filling the space that would otherwise be silent. As you clean, you think about how different this year has been compared to the last three years. You especially think about this as the holidays are right around the corner now. For once in three years, you have plans for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years. Peter and Mary Jane are hosting Friendsgiving at their universe. Mr. and Mrs. Morales invited you and the rest of the group for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day to their building’s party and then again for New Years.

It's been so long since you even celebrated. You found no point since it was just you and you cut off your friends from your universe. You smile as you clean thinking how it will be different this year. You can’t help but stop and stare at one of Peter’s photos on the wall. He would be happy, you think.

You’re in your bedroom now, putting away random objects that have made other areas of the apartment their home for days when a multidimensional portal opens in your living room. You sense it. You walk out of your bedroom just as the floating objects in your living room fall back into place. The portal is fading now.

Miguel stands in the middle of your apartment. His eyes take in your living room, lightly decorated for the autumn season. He spots a few pumpkins and faux leaves on your bookshelf. He can smell the scent of autumn candles as the music plays softly in the background. He finally turns around, looking for you, it seems. His gaze falls on you, meeting your eyes.

“Miguel. Is everything alright?” you ask, as you stand just outside your bedroom.

Miguel looks around for a second at the fallen objects. He gives you an apologetic look before he speaks. “Everything is fine.”

You nod, unsure of what to say. It’s past eleven at night and your boss just showed up. Randomly. Or at least it seems so. You see Miguel’s eyes scan you briefly, probably noticing that you’re still in normal clothes and not pajamas despite how late it is. His eyes meet yours again as he briefly thinks about how this is officially the third time he has been to your apartment. You are officially the only colleague he has visited these many times in such a short amount of time. He doesn’t let himself think too much of it now.

“Are you busy right now?” he asks at last, quietly.

“I was just doing some chores so, no…” you say, unsure of where this is going. He said everything is fine. He is calm. That means there’s no threat to the multiverse. No need to change into your suit right away.

Miguel nods and sighs so quietly, you barely register it. “I would like - to show you something,” he says, still meeting your eyes.

You stand there for a second or two, processing what he just said before you nod slowly.

“Should I change into my suit?” you ask, still unsure of what’s going on, but Miguel shakes his head.

“No need to change.”

You nod. “Oh, okay. Then – I’m ready,” you say quietly, still standing just outside your bedroom.

Miguel nods before he clicks on his gizmo, opening a portal again. The portal opens. Its lights shine brightly around your apartment and objects begin to float again. You quickly grab your own gizmo, sliding it on before you approach him. He motions for you to enter first and as you do so, you briefly wonder if you should’ve grabbed a jacket as your sweater is on the lighter side. Your worry melts, however, as you step into Miguel’s lab, where it’s warm. You sense Miguel right behind you, so you step to the side. Your eyes scan the lab, trying to figure out what Miguel wants to show you, but you see nothing out of the ordinary. Then again, you don’t know what you’re looking for.

Miguel is standing next to you now as the portal’s colors and lights begin to fade away. You look over at Miguel and find him looking down at the floor as if thinking. You wonder then. What is he trying to show you? Whatever it is, it seems that he might be reconsidering.

“If you’re not comfortable showing me, it’s okay,” you say quietly, not wanting him to feel pressured to show you now but he lifts his gaze to yours and shakes his head softly.

“No – I want to show you,” he says quietly, and you nod.

Miguel nods back before he turns and starts walking deeper into his lab. You follow him, giving him some distance just in case he changes his mind. He walks to a side of the lab that’s not usually trafficked by people, behind his platform. Your curiosity grows with each second as you walk around it, a few feet behind Miguel. Your nose is slowly overwhelmed by a rich and sharp scent, but you can’t pinpoint what it is. Miguel looks behind his shoulder as he finally stops walking. You see it then, or part of it as Miguel’s body covers some of your vision because he’s a few feet in front of you.

“You can come closer,” Miguel says, sensing that you’re still too far away.

As your eyes take in what you can see in that moment, you immediately know where the scent is coming from when your eyes fall on marigold flowers.

An ofrenda, as Miguel had said weeks ago when you were celebrating Peter’s birthday. You suddenly remember. It’s the first of November. Dia de los Muertos. Your mind flashes back to that moment. You were cutting Miguel a second slice of cake, feeling embarrassed about the whole thing when he spoke.

“I also…” Miguel said, pausing. “I celebrate Dia de los Muertos, I don’t know if you -” he paused, and you nodded then, indicating you knew what he was talking about as you put the slice on his plate. “I make a small ofrenda for them.” You placed his plate in front of him, meeting his eyes. “So – it’s not – Don’t feel as if…” Miguel said, trailing off and you nodded.

He had shared that with you then, to make you feel less embarrassed. To assure you, you weren’t alone in remembering, celebrating, and honoring Peter even after his death.

Your eyes flicker to Miguel for a few seconds, his attention is back to the ofrenda. You step closer, keeping your eyes on him, as you do so. You stop, standing a few feet behind him still, not wanting to invade his space. Not wanting to invade his ofrenda, his act of remembrance, celebration, and honor for his loved ones.

Sensing your reluctance to walk closer, Miguel speaks in a hushed tone.

“Y/N… you may come closer,” he whispers.

You stand still for a few seconds and then walk closer, stopping next to him. Your eyes take in the ofrenda as you’re able to appreciate it more now that you’re closer to it. Miguel’s ofrenda is absolutely beautiful and you can see the effort he put into it as your eyes take it in.

The ofrenda is made of two levels, both are covered in a bright blue fabric. Sheets of tissue paper in lively colors were cut into intricate patterns and hung from the edges of both levels. You notice the second level holds four photographs, which are in physical, wooden frames. Despite the advanced universe of your boss, Miguel O’Hara still used physical, wooden picture frames for his ofrenda. For some reason, that makes you feel tenderness towards the man next to you. Your eyes move from each picture slowly. The first photo your eyes fall on show an older woman. You take in her appearance, noticing some of her features are familiar. Miguel’s face flashes in your mind. His mother, you realize, knowing nothing about her. No one knows anything about Miguel’s family. It isn’t something that Miguel ever talks about.

Your eyes move to the other end of the level, falling on the photograph of a young man. He was handsome with one of those cheeky, boyish smiles. You notice he looks on the younger side and you can’t help but wonder if Miguel once had a brother.

The two photos in the center show people you have seen before. Two individuals you know a little about.

Gabriella and Miguel’s wife.  Your eyes fall on Gabriella, noticing that her photo was more centered on the ofrenda. You notice the decorations then. Small sugar skulls made of clay fill the gaps between each photograph. Marigold flowers serve as a pop of color behind the picture frames and clay sugar skulls. Lit candles light up the ofrenda on both levels. They flicker softly, creating a soft and intimate moment.

Your eyes fall to the lowest level. You still find marigold flowers, sugar skulls, and lit candles but there are other items in front of each photograph. You remember that on Dia de los Muertos, loved ones place food, drinks, and other objects that those who have passed away enjoyed in life. In front of his mother’s photograph, Miguel placed a plate with food, surrounded by fruit like apples and oranges. A glass bottle with an orange drink was placed next to it. When you move to the young man, who you are almost certain is Miguel’s brother, you spot tamales, a drink, and two pink pieces of bread in the shape of a seashell. Pan dulce. There are also these thin, bright yellow candy-sized packages next to his drink. Your eyes almost miss it but there’s a scarf looped around the plates with food. When you look back at the photograph, you notice the young man is wearing that very same scarf in his photo.

You move to Miguel’s wife. She, too, has a plate with food, different from the others. You cannot help but wonder… Did Miguel cook their favorite meals? Once again, tenderness washes over you as you imagine Miguel spending the day cooking and setting up his ofrenda. You finish looking at Miguel’s wife section, seeing some candy and a drink, too.

It's Gabriella’s section that really strikes you, making a bittersweet feeling rush through you as you scan her section. There are three plates of food. You don’t recognize the food in one of them but the other one you do. Pancakes with chocolate chips on top. Your mind flashes back to months ago, when you entered Miguel’s lab after he found out that Lyla had hidden a folder containing photos and videos of Gabriella and his wife. He had mentioned Gabriella loved his breakfasts, especially pancakes with chocolate chips, when he was telling you a little bit about her.

Your heart aches as you continue to stare at the pancakes. You swallow the knot that has begun to form in your throat. You tell yourself to calm down. You know Dia de los Muertos is not about grief. It’s about celebrating those who have passed away. Remembering and honoring them. A night for loved ones to visit and spend time with those who are still alive.

You sigh quietly as your eyes move. You spot more items in Gabriella’s section. There is quite a bit of candy, which makes you smile. You spot small, green and white, bottles with pointy red lids. There are small packs with bright pink tablets, which remind you of gum. Your eyes fall on two lollipops. They have a clown face printed on it, showing a chocolate covered marshmallow with gummies as a face. There’s more candy, like those thin bright yellow packs you saw on the young man’s side. Your eyes move to the last plate. Gabriella also has the same kind of pan dulce found on the young man’s plate: two pink seashell-like pieces of bread.

There are also drinks in Gabriella’s section. You find tiny see-through bottles, almost the height of your pointing finger with a beige liquid and red letters printed on the outside. There’s also a tall glass of what looks like chocolate milk, next to a short, blue container with an animated character printed on it. And finally, there’s a large mug of rice pudding sprinkled with cinnamon. Arroz con leche.

It doesn’t stop there, however. The bright blue fabric covers some of the floor and right there you find toys and other random objects. Your eyes immediately fall on a soccer ball, reminding you that Gabriella loved to play soccer and was part of the soccer team at her school. You smile as you keep your eyes on it for a few seconds. You spot children’s books on the side, noticing that some of them fall under the science genre.

You remember that Miguel shared with you that Gabriella loved science and enjoyed reading. There are other toys of course, like dolls and small animal figures. Your eyes fall on one item specifically though. A small acoustic guitar. You briefly wonder if little Gabriella liked to play the acoustic guitar but of course, you don’t ask about it.

Your eyes take in the ofrenda again, all of it now. Miguel did a beautiful job. You smile softly at the sight and the fact that Miguel went to your apartment tonight to show you his ofrenda. He’s honoring his loved ones in his own way, and he invited you to be a part of it. The same way you invited him to be a part of Peter’s birthday celebration.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel Miguel move. He slowly gets on his knees in front of the ofrenda, with a soft sigh before he rests his body over his heels. You notice he’s looking straight ahead at Gabriella’s photo. You slowly drop to your knees, too, and as you stare at Gabriella’s photo you speak, breaking the silence.

“It’s beautiful, Miguel,” you whisper softly in Miguel’s quiet lab.

“Thank you,” he whispers back, softly.

The two of you stare silently at the ofrenda. The candles’ wicks flicker softly, still casting soft shadows on the photographs. You think about Miguel’s loved ones. He has lost so many people even before Gabriella and his wife. You can’t help but wonder now, how lonely was Miguel that he inserted himself in another world?

You have never judged him and never will for this. However, you cannot help but feel heartache for him. He has lost so many people. Why did life take so much from this man? This man, who you have begun to know better with each passing day, who was soft, loving, kind, and caring on the inside? He didn’t show these traits much these days, but you have received his kindness before.

He showed you kindness the day he showed up at your apartment to check on you. It wasn’t Jess who sent him. He had shown up on his own. You still wonder about that. How he had asked you not to bring it up to Jess so he wasn’t caught in a lie. He didn’t want you to know he had done it because he wanted to or because his true, hidden traits had led him to do it. Ever since he lost Gabriella and his wife, he was distant and cold, unwilling to attach himself to anyone again. Except, his true self was still there, hidden under the surface of his coldness and unattachment.

He made appearances sometimes. Like that day at your apartment. Or the day he talked about Gabriella to you when you walked into his lab, not knowing he was having a bad day because of Lyla’s secret. Or on Peter’s birthday. And there were other moments you hadn’t been around for like the time he allowed Gwen Stacy into the Spider Society. Even though he didn’t want her to be a part of it because of her connection with Miles, Miguel allowed her recruitment because of the issue with her father and her Spider-Woman identity.

That version of Miguel made his appearance today. Miguel O’Hara spent his entire day working on his ofrenda for his loved ones. He cooked. He cut the tissue paper. He printed out the photos and placed them in picture frames despite being able to simply display them with screens. He picked out the marigold flowers. He bought drinks, candy, and toys. He put together his ofrenda.

As the two of you kneel before it, there’s a shared understanding between the two of you. There’s comfort. Vulnerability. Trust. A bond between the two of you that has been forming over the last months strengthens.

You sigh softly as your eyes land on the soccer ball again. Miguel turns slowly to you, looking down to see your face. He sees you looking at the soccer ball.

“She loved playing soccer, so I bought her one,” Miguel mutters quietly, and you nod.

“I remember. She played in the soccer team,” you say softly.

Miguel nods, feeling a warm sensation wash over his chest as you mention that fact. It has been many weeks now since he shared that with you. And you remembered.

“I think – she must be very happy to see her favorite breakfast,” you add, looking up at Miguel.

He looks down at you. You remembered that, too. Miguel nods before turning away slowly. He has never shared much about his life with others. Not with Jess or Peter, who were already a part of his life back then. They knew some parts of his life of course but he had never gone into much detail. It had been too painful. It was easier to keep it all to himself, put away at the back of his mind while he exhausted himself with work to keep his emotions at bay.

You are the first one he has shared some of those days with. Miguel can’t help but think about the first day he met you. Jess introduced you and of course, he had thought you were the opposite of him. You seemed so happy and alive despite having lost someone. He had been so wrong about you. You carried your own grief and loss but hid it so well.

Either way, had someone told him that he was going to be opening to you in so many ways back then, he would’ve laughed. He wouldn’t have believed it, but it was true. He has opened up to you. And you remember. You listened to him. You didn’t ask questions. You understood.

Miguel sighs softly, looking at the photographs. You knew of his wife and sweet Gabriella of course but not of his mother or Gabriel. Little Gabrielito. Miguel shakes his head softly at his brother’s photograph, thinking how he left too soon.

Miguel clears his throat, turning slightly to you now. This catches your attention, so you turn to face him.

“The young man – that’s my brother. Gabriel, or as I called him, Gabrielito. He passed away a few years ago,” Miguel shares.

You offer Miguel a sad smile, not speaking. Not wanting to discourage Miguel from sharing.

“He was my little brother,” Miguel says. “He was such – a pain on the butt sometimes but he always meant well. He was always cheery. Kind.”

You nod, wanting to say that you could tell just by the cheeky smile on Gabriel’s face. Miguel notices that you seem reluctant to speak. He thinks about how respectful you always are. Again, you never ask questions. You never overstep his boundary lines. And hell, his respect for you grows in that moment even more. You are a good person. You are kind. Miguel fails to notice it, but his heart beats a bit faster. You are the closest he has to a friend these days even though he doesn’t fully realize it. You are the only person he was willing to share this moment with because you allowed him to be a part of Peter’s birthday celebration. He wanted to reciprocate the gesture.

And, as he stares down at your face, he realizes that he wants to hear your thoughts. He wants to know what you think. He wants you to ask questions because he feels comfortable with you. The firm boundary line he has established and maintained for so long, crumbles in that moment for you.

“You can talk, you know,” Miguel says softly, prompting you to offer him an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t want to intrude or overstep. I know how delicate and personal these moments are,” you respond truthfully. “Thank you for letting me in on your celebration,” you whisper, and Miguel detects the sincerity in your tone.

He nods. “You made me a part of Peter’s birthday celebration … I wanted you to be a part of mine,” he answers softly.

You nod once again, giving him a brighter smile. “Thank you,” you whisper, meaning it.

Not everyone understood of course but you understood each other. With his words coming back to you, about being able to talk, you sigh softly before you speak.

“Your brother – I can tell he was cheerful with that cheeky smile,” you say, turning to Gabriel’s photo.

Miguel’s eyes fall on his brother’s smile. It was indeed cheeky.

“Since a kid,” Miguel shares. “He always had that smile. It never changed throughout his life. There were always at least two girls who had crushes on him when we were kids because of it,” he says fondly, his mind going back to days that were long gone when Gabriel and he were still in school.

You chuckle lowly. “I can imagine it got him into some trouble with the girls,” you say, smiling, unable to stop yourself from also thinking of younger Miguel. You wonder what he was like when he was a teenager. You wonder if he also had girls crushing after him, and you are immediately confident he did. If Gabriel had the girls crushing, there was no doubt Miguel definitely did, too. You have never thought of Miguel in that way but even though you have never thought of him like that, it doesn’t mean you are blind. Miguel is an attractive man to say the least. People, mostly women but even some of the men in the Spider Society, talk about it sometimes. Even if you hadn’t noticed it yourself, you are sure you would’ve at one point with the questionable conversations you overheard sometimes in passing when colleagues thought they were being discreet, except they weren’t.

“Believe me, it did. I once had to come to his rescue because this girl’s boyfriend thought he was flirting with her,” Miguel says, shaking his head, missing his brother. “But he wasn’t like that. He was a good person. A good man.”

Miguel thought of Gabriel when he allowed himself to think about the past. He loved his brother even when there were tensions between them.

“He was the better brother,” Miguel mutters. “He was kind. Unselfish.”

You can’t help but get hung up on the word “unselfish.” Did Miguel think he was selfish?

When he thought about Gabriel, Miguel couldn’t help but wonder what his little brother would have said about what he did. He was so selfless and compassionate. If there is a Heaven, Miguel fears that Gabriel must have disagreed with his decision. With what he did in Gabriella’s universe.

You sense a slight shift in Miguel’s mood, even when your mind is still stuck on the indication that Miguel feels like he was the selfish brother of the two. You feel the urge to keep the mood light. You don’t want to see Miguel sad or upset, so you speak up.

“He sounds like a wonderful person. I think I would’ve liked him a lot,” you start, looking at Gabriel’s photo before looking down at the yellow candy packs. “I see he and Gabriella liked the same candy,” you add softly, hoping to lighten his mood again.

Miguel, staring at his brother’s photo, briefly thinks about what you said, and he agrees. In fact, Miguel can’t help but think that Gabriel would have befriended you was he still alive. You were both warm and happy people. Unselfish, he thought again.

“Gabriel would have liked you,” Miguel says, knowing this is true. “I think you two would have been great friends,” he says pausing for a few seconds. “And yes – they’re called Pulparindos. It’s made from the pulp of tamarind fruit. Gabriel loved them. I swear he ate like four a day. He always had some with him,” Miguel says with an amused tone but there’s no smile on his face. “Imagine my surprise when I found out Gabriella also loved them,” he adds fondly.

You nod, that’s why both Gabriel and Gabriella had the same kind of candy then. You also feel somewhat pleased with the fact that Miguel thinks his brother would’ve liked you.  

“We would go to the store, and she always made a beeline for the candy aisle. I could never say no to her,” Miguel says, his voice still laced with that fondness as he thinks of the times they went to get groceries. “We made an agreement. She could have one piece of candy each day but no more. She always respected the deal.”

You stare at Gabriella’s photograph. She’s in the frame alone, smiling at the camera. Again, there’s that toothy smile you remember from weeks ago. Your heart aches for her. For Gabriel. For Miguel’s wife.

For Miguel… who didn’t have the luxury of visiting all his loved ones at the cemetery, you suddenly realize as the two of you remain kneeling on the floor. Miguel couldn’t visit his wife or Gabriella. There were no bodies to be buried. No funerals.

Your sudden realization cuts deep into your soul. You cannot imagine what you would do if you were in his shoes. If you didn’t have at least that small comfort of knowing that Peter rested somewhere in peace. Or the comfort of being able to visit him whenever you wanted or needed to. Or the comfort of talking to him, even when you know your stories are heard by silence.

Miguel had none of that when it came to Gabriella and his wife. Your heart feels heavy with pain for Miguel. You have never thought of this and to be honest, no one else has either. Miguel was expected to move on eventually but how could someone move on when they didn’t even have the chance to mourn properly? How could anyone move on when they didn’t have a place to visit their loved ones?

It has been those small things that you have taken for granted that have helped you during your mourning period. Those comforts that mostly everyone who loses a loved one has but for Miguel… it’s not true. He doesn’t have any of those comforts.

You feel the sudden urge, for the second time in months, to reach out for Miguel. You want to comfort him. You want to hold him in your arms and tell him how sorry you are that this has happened to him. That you are sorry that he has lost so many loved ones. That he lost his wife and Gabriella, his loving family.

You want to tell him that he deserves so much more. That he deserves a family and happiness. And that he’s not selfish for wanting these things. You want to hold Miguel, and take away his grief, sadness, guilt, and any other negative emotion he still carries with him.

You just want to comfort Miguel.

Your hand, which has been resting on your lap, rises slowly, involuntarily, in Miguel’s direction. You freeze for about two seconds, realizing what you are about to do. You bring your hand back to your lap discreetly, or at least you hope it was discreetly.  

You cannot comfort Miguel in the way that you usually comfort people because he doesn’t do physical touch. No matter how badly you want to rest your hand over his and let the gesture speak for itself, you know you can’t. Or rather, shouldn’t. You don’t dare break his boundary line as you return your attention to Gabriella’s photo.

Beside you, Miguel also stares at his daughter’s photo. His mind has paused the memories and instead, is overtaken by the fact that you were reaching for him just seconds ago. He didn’t fail to see the way you stopped yourself. He senses it’s not because of impropriety or even changing your mind about it but for another reason.

As Miguel stares at Gabriella’s photo, he wonders how you know. Perhaps it was Jess, he realizes. Perhaps she mentioned that he cannot do physical touch these days. And you, as always, respected his space. He silently appreciates your respect and the fact that you wanted to comfort him. He sighs softly. It’s been so long since he has been comforted by someone physically.

The last time he felt another person’s skin was… with you, he realizes, remembering the day he checked up on you. That day, for once, he allowed his hand to be bare so he could feel your face, to check if you were running a fever. That was the first time he had felt another person’s skin in a really long time, and there hadn’t been any other instances since then. He remembers how natural it had felt to press his hand to your forehead regardless.

Miguel’s thoughts are interrupted when he hears your stomach grumble, making him turn to you. He narrows his eyes slightly as you slowly look at him.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

You shake your head, embarrassed, thinking about how you had an early dinner and that was hours ago.  “No. I ate something a few hours ago. It was just my stomach being – weird,” you say softly and Miguel stares down at you, knowing you’re lying.

Before you know it, he gets up with ease. “Hold on,” he says walking away and around his platform.

You wait there, not knowing where he’s going on, or what he’s doing. It’s a few minutes later that Miguel returns. You hear his footsteps and turn around to find Miguel carrying two cups and two plastic bags hanging from his right wrist. Noticing your furrowed brows at the sight, Miguel walks over to you and hands you one of the cups.

You immediately feel the warmth of the drink before the scent of coffee fills your nostrils when you take the cup from his hand. You look up at Miguel, with curious eyes but he doesn’t say anything as he kneels next to you again, this time much closer than before, you notice. Miguel places his own cup to the side before he pulls the plastic bags off his wrist.

“I only made enough of the food for them…” Miguel says, pausing and nodding at the plates with food. “But I did get extra of this,” he says, opening one of the bags and showing you.

You catch a glimpse of pan dulce, which you have tried before. You meet his eyes again as he moves the bag closer to you. He motions for you to get some.

“I know you’re hungry,” he says quietly, meeting your eyes. “Please.”

You feel reluctant but then again, the pan dulce looks too appetizing to say no to. You nod slowly and reach into the bag, grabbing a pink, round seashell like piece of pan dulce.

“Those are called conchas,” Miguel says as he sees what you chose. He turns to the ofrenda. “Gabriel and Gabriella loved those. Especially the pink ones.”

You turn to the ofrenda, returning your attention to the pink conchas you noticed earlier on Gabriel and Gabriella’s sections.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, holding the cup of coffee and pan dulce, feeling embarrassed. You wonder if this is how Miguel felt the first couple of times you took him coffee and then in the last couple of weeks food.  

Miguel’s head turns to the side to look at you. “You’re welcome,” he says softly before he, too, grabs a concha.

He looks away from you as he breaks a piece of the pan dulce to make you feel comfortable. He knows you were lying to hide the embarrassment of your hunger, so he turns away to give you space. He brings a small piece of the concha to his mouth, the pan dulce reminding him of his childhood when his mother made hot chocolate for Gabriel and him. Miguel remembers how Gabriel and him always looked forward to autumn and winter because the food was better. They got hot chocolate with pan dulce; tamales of all kinds, including his favorite ones, which were the sweet ones back then because he loved the sweetness of them and the fact that his mother added food coloring to make them colorful; they also got buñuelos, and pozole amongst other delicious foods.

Miguel brings the piece of pan dulce to his mouth as he thinks of the past, of his childhood. He didn’t think too often about it but when he did, he tried to only think of the memories that included Gabriel. He didn’t like to think of other memories that included the man he once thought was his father. The same man whose last name Miguel still holds to this day. Other memories included his mother as well. Some were from the early days of his life and then from her last years when they had grown closer once there were no more secrets and lies between them.

It was just his mother and Gabriel. Neither his stepfather nor biological father were thought of. Nor were they on his ofrenda. He couldn’t bring himself to add them to the ofrenda that was for those he loved and cherished dearly. Those he missed.

“That was my mother,” Miguel suddenly says once he finishes eating the small piece of concha, remembering he hasn’t talked about her. “Her name was… Conchata.”

You finish chewing the small piece of bread you, too, broke off. You nod. “She was beautiful,” you say as you turn your attention to her photograph. You can see Miguel got a lot of her features, as did Gabriel. You don’t say anything about the fact that there’s no sign of his father, not knowing Miguel had a stepfather as well.

“She was… We didn’t have the best relationship for some time, but things changed in her last years. It was often a problem between Gabriel and I in those years. He always tried to remain neutral. I, on the other hand…” Miguel trails off, thinking of the past. “I distanced myself from her for some time until we resolved our issues.”

You frown a little. Is this why he thought Gabriel was better? Because Gabriel remained neutral in whatever problems Miguel and Conchata had? Despite Miguel indicating that he isn’t as good as Gabriel, even saying he distanced himself from his mother in a negative tone, you can’t bring yourself to think of him any less. You have no right to begin with. You don’t know what happened between them. There’s so much that you still don’t know about Miguel. So much he might never reveal. Either way, you don’t care.

“We all have our reasons for what we do,” you finally say, thinking this was the best neutral thing to say. “You had your reasons for distancing yourself.”

Miguel nods, appreciating your response. “I did,” he says simply, thinking about those reasons. Thinking about the abuse from his stepfather that his mother allowed. About the manipulation. The lies.

He has never shared his past with anyone. The only person that knew of it has passed away, taking those memories with him to the grave. Gabriel. Miguel doesn’t know if he will ever share that. He put it in the past for the most part.

However, he couldn’t help but feel that if he ever shared his past… it would be with you but not tonight. At least not all of it.

Miguel clears his throat. “I had a stepfather and of course, a biological father but I wasn’t close to either of them. They have both passed away, too.”

You notice a slight change of tone. It’s laced with resentment. You put your cup of coffee down.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” you say gently. “Tonight, is for them, right?” you ask softly, motioning to the ofrenda.

Miguel nods. “Yes, but I know the other members talk. About my past. About my family.”

You nod slowly, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. That’s how you found out about what happened in Gabriella’s universe and what happened with Miles. It turns out that despite being superheroes and being part of a professional superhero society, its members were not immune to gossip.

“I didn’t have a good relationship with either of them. That’s why they’re not on the ofrenda,” Miguel continues, feeling like he wanted to get it out of his chest for once.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you reply, and Miguel nods.

“It’s in the past now. I just wanted to say it – since my mother is on it. And again, I know people talk.”

You nod, feeling sad that Miguel feels the need to share his past life. “Please know that you never have to explain yourself. It’s your life, and you don’t owe anyone an explanation,” you say, surprising yourself with your words and tone but you hope you make your point clear. He shouldn’t feel pressured to share anything just to satisfy people’s curiosity. “But thank you – for trusting me enough to share that with me,” you add, softly again.

Miguel feels stunned by your words, especially your change of tone. It almost felt like you were scolding him. He can’t help but feel comforted while also amused by it. He feels his lips curl upward as he looks down at you. You notice it, of course. The slight curling of his lips. Did you almost make Miguel smile?

You can’t help but stare at his mouth. You have seen his smile in a photograph before and it was… beautiful. You remember the spark in his eyes as he smiled. His smile was such a sight it made you wonder what it would be like to see it in person. You can’t help but feel selfish at this moment. You want – need – to see Miguel O’Hara smile.  

You want to see him happy because he deserves it.

You meet his eyes and offer him a small smile, feeling happy that you almost made him smile but Miguel surprises you. Miguel, for once,returns a genuine, small smile.

Miguel O’Hara, founder and commander of the Spider Society, your boss, is smiling at you.

You feel like your breath has caught in your throat suddenly. Miguel is smiling at you. It’s a small one but it’s a smile. You stare at it and meet his eyes. The moment feels much longer than it lasts but in a good way. You abruptly look down at your piece of pan dulce, feeling like you are overwhelmed by the sight of Miguel’s smile. You can’t comprehend your emotions, so you take a piece of pan dulce and change the subject.

“This is really good. Thank you,” you tell him, looking up at him again.

The smile is gone but there’s still a hint of it on his face as he looks down at his own piece of pan dulce. His mood is lighter, indicating that the resentment you detected earlier about his fathers is gone. You realize he found your sudden change of tone, which you now realize may have come off as scolding, amusing and you don’t mind it.

“Glad you liked it,” he says with a tone you can’t pinpoint right now as his smile is still flashing in your mind. “And thank you. For your words,” Miguel adds, meaning it.

You nod at him and take another bite of your concha, thinking. You are never going to forget this night.

The two of you continue to kneel on the floor but it feels like your distance has decreased somehow. You can feel his body warmth much closer as you eat pan dulce and hot coffee. The lab is silent and mostly dark around the two of you, but you find yourselves in a peaceful and comforting silence as the scent of marigold flowers and coffee fills your nostrils. The soft flickering of the candles on the ofrenda creates a warm and soothing mood, spreading that warmness to the two of you on this cold November night.

It is a beautiful moment, shared by two people who understand each other on many levels. It is a moment that will pass, like every other moment you have shared so far but just like the rest, it will be a moment the two of you will look back on. It is a moment that only the two of you will know of as there is an unspoken agreement these moments were for yourselves only.

Miguel eats his piece of bread, quietly. He’s thinking about your reaction to him smiling. It makes him feel a mix of emotions. Was the sight of him smiling, even if it was a small smile, so surprising? Of course, he knows he doesn’t smile much these days, but your reaction makes him feel like the sight of it is a once in a lifetime moment. That was one emotion.

Another emotion is… what is the word? His emotions and thoughts are a bit out of place tonight, making it harder to think but he feels… satisfaction? Is that the right word he’s looking for? The point is that he found some joy in seeing your surprise, and your sudden – was it shyness? Was the sight too much for you that you had to look away and change the subject?

Miguel takes a sip of his coffee as he thinks about how he liked your reaction to him smiling, no matter how small it was. He sets the cup down and looks at the other plastic bag he brought with him. He picks it up, remembering.

“There’s candy here, too,” Miguel says opening it.

You finish eating your piece of bread, making a note to look for some pan dulce in your own universe because it was wonderful, as you turn your attention to the bag. You’re still thinking of Miguel smiling. You watch as Miguel pulls out different candy, holding so much in one hand because of its size.  

He shows you the candy, and you recognize it from the ofrenda. He extends his arm out to you, offering you candy. You look up at him.

“What do you recommend?” you ask, and he begins to tell you what each candy is, even when you recognize some of it from trying it before.

You eventually go for a clown lollipop, which makes Miguel raise his eyebrow slightly.

“What? It has three things. Marshmallow on the inside, chocolate on the outside, and gummies,” you say giving him a small smile.

“You got a point,” Miguel says, grabbing one himself.

The two of you open your clown lollipops. You look at your own, noticing the gummies’ placement on the lollipop, which are supposed to signify the eyes and mouth, are crooked, looking nothing like the picture on the wrapping. You frown a little but shrug.

Next to you, Miguel stifles a low chuckle, noticing your frown at the appearance of your lollipop. He shows you his.  

“The thing about these is that they never look like the picture on the wrapper,” he says quietly as you look at his crooked lollipop.

You chuckle, noticing his has the mouth upside down. “I was a little disappointed but I’m pretty sure the taste is going to make up for it,” you say, looking at it before you take a bite, making sure to go around the gummies.

Miguel watches, wanting to see your reaction. You chew the small piece you bit off, the chocolate and marshmallow melting in your mouth. Miguel sees the pleasant look on your face.

“Oh wow, this is – I think I’m in trouble,” you say, taking another small bite, still going around the gummies, deciding you’re going to leave them for last.

Miguel raises an eyebrow as he, too, takes a bite of his, also going around the gummies, as you mention being in trouble. You finish eating and look over at him.

“I used to have a sweet tooth. I think this is going to make me return to my bad ways,” you explain as you take another bite.

Miguel feels like smiling again as he sees you go for another bite. He also notices that you left the gummies for last, which reminds him of Gabriella because she used to do the same thing when he bought these lollipops for her.

The two of you spend another hour sharing candy and Miguel tells you about each one. Miguel eats the same candy you choose each time, as if he was trying it for the first time as well. He pays attention to your reactions, noticing which candy leaves the best impression on you. He also shares bits and pieces of Gabriella’s liking for a specific kind of candy. You listen intently when he speaks, appreciating his openness with you. You notice there’s no sadness as he speaks fondly of her. At least not tonight.

“I guess we’re not sleeping tonight,” he mutters as the two of you are now sitting, still on the floor, facing the ofrenda.

It’s past midnight now and the two of you have eaten quite a bit of candy, plus you had that cup of coffee. You both feel awake and alert.

“I don’t think I was planning on sleeping early, anyway,” you say quietly, staring at the flickering candles.

Miguel leans back on his hands, stretching his back slightly. The two bags he bought earlier are between you. The plastic wrappers from the candy you two ate are in a neat pile.

“You were doing chores,” he says, remembering you had mentioned that when he arrived.

You nod. “I had some random chores that I meant to do over the week but didn’t get to.”

“I’ve been keeping you busy with missions,” he says, looking at the photos of his loved ones.

You chuckle lightly. “It’s just the life of a superhero.”

Miguel nods, knowing exactly what you mean. When he lived in Gabriella’s world, he took every chore in the house. He cooked, cleaned, did the laundry, dishes, cut the lawn, and many other chores on top of being a father and a superhero. There were days when it all felt like too much, especially when he was unable to complete some of those chores when his superhero duty called. When he felt like that, when it was all too much, he just reminded himself that it didn’t matter. It was okay if the lawn grew a bit tall. It was okay if he got behind a day or two on laundry. It was okay as long as it meant he got to spend time with Gabriella. Her happiness and comfort were his top priority, and if he had to choose which he often did, between doing laundry or sitting on Gabriella’s bedroom floor playing with dolls because she asked him to join her, he always chose spending time with her.

The satisfaction of done laundry, or a clean sink, never compared to Gabriella’s smiles and laughs. If he could pay to hear her laugh live again, Miguel would give up everything he owned. Even if it was just one more time.

Miguel sighs softly, thinking of Gabriella. Memories of them playing on her bedroom floor flash through his mind. He can hear her voice and laugh. He remembers the way it felt to hold her in his arms. He remembers the nights he had to find a way to fit in her tiny bed to comfort her because she had nightmares. He’d lay there for hours, even if his muscles were tired. Even when his body desperately wanted to stretch to ease the tension, he laid there, guarding her sleep. He remembers the natural father instinct that surged through him. It was as if he had been meant to be a father his whole life.

As Miguel stares at the ofrenda, his eyes fall on the toys, and he silently prays that Gabriella visited him on this Dia de los Muertos. He prays that she forgave him for lying. For replacing her biological father. He prays that she found joy in the toys and food.

“Perdóname, mija.”

“Do you – do you mind telling me more about her?” you ask in a whisper, noticing Miguel’s lingering eyes on his deceased daughter’s photograph. You don’t know what gave you the confidence to ask that and you quickly add, “I’m sorry, I – you don’t have to. I don’t know what came over me.”

Miguel turns slowly to you, looking down at you. Your eyes meet. He’s quiet for a few seconds but his face is calm. He doesn’t look upset, and he’s not. He’s glad you asked. He’s just surprised and comforted by how you asked. It’s strange. Sometimes he feels like you grieve with him. He sees it in your eyes and detects it in your words and tone. He has never felt like anyone could share his grief. Until you. You didn’t even know Gabriella or his wife, or that version of himself.

Regardless of that fact, Miguel feels like you grieve with him. As if you grieve the opportunity of knowing them and a life he no longer has.

Miguel nods at last. “Gabriella…”

And so, the two of you spend another hour or so together in his lab. Miguel O’Hara begins to talk about his daughter and it’s like a door opens. His memories pour out of him, and you listen intently, nodding. He talks about the times she was sick, the time she fell from a swing and the scraped knee afterward, about her playing with dolls and him having to change his voice to be in character. He talks about the car rides back home after soccer matches and how Gabriella would be filled with energy the first fifteen minutes before she passed out asleep, exhausted from the game and her excitement from winning. He tells you so much than the last time. So much more, that you feel like you knew Gabriella yourself. You smile tenderly as Miguel talks about her in a way that just enforces how great of a father he was.

It's a while later when the two of you get up from the floor. You help him clean up, despite his protests. The two of you stand in front of the ofrenda for a few minutes, in silence afterward. You finally turn your head towards him, looking up at him. He notices and looks down at you, meeting your gaze.

“Thank you. I know this isn’t easy,” you say quietly, and he nods slowly.

You wish you could say more. Again, you feel that rush of emotions for this man. You wish you could tell him that he deserves happiness. That he deserves so much more…

“Thank you for coming,” he replies, and you nod with a small smile because you feel that that’s the only thing you can do.

You fall into silence again for a few seconds before you sigh softly.

“I should probably head back now,” you say, looking down at your gizmo to check the time.

Miguel also checks his gizmo, surprised. It’s very late. When he finished setting up the ofrenda and was ready to travel to your universe to invite you, he had no intention of keeping you up this late. He thought it would be an hour or so. Instead, the two of you have spent the last three hours on the floor eating pan dulce and candy, with him talking and sharing details of his life.

For a brief moment, Miguel tries to imagine doing this with someone else. He can’t. No one else pops into his head, for the two of you speak so differently when you are alone. You understand each other.

Miguel finally nods. “I didn’t realize how late it is. I’m sorry for keeping you up.”

You shake your head with a smile. “Don’t apologize. As I said, I was going to stay up to do some chores but…” you trail off and try to put your thoughts together without them coming off wrong. You want to say that you much prefer this. Spending time with him. Keeping each other company. How can you say that without it coming off wrong? You look away from his gaze for a few seconds, trying to think of how to word this and simply having no idea how to do so without giving the wrong impression. You shake your head softly at yourself, feeling silly for being unable to pull your thoughts together. You meet his eyes again, which have been on you this whole time. Miguel can see that you’re struggling to find a way to say what’s on your mind. It makes him want to know even more what you’re thinking.

“What I’m trying to say is that – I’m here,” you finally say and immediately feel like that was not the best way to say it, but it is also not the worst. “I’m here – for you.”

And I don’t mind stopping what I’m doing to be there for you, you silently think but can’t voice that part out loud.

Miguel stares down at you, your words echoing in his head. You’re here… for him. And he knows you mean it as your eyes meet. Miguel gives you a soft nod, his eyes show appreciation.

“Thank you…” he says, with a warm feeling in his chest.

You nod and give him another smile, seeing that appreciative look in his eyes. That will have to do. Maybe in the future you can say more but for tonight, that will have to do.

Miguel wants to say the same to you, but he can’t. The words get caught in his throat. He looks at the plastic bags from earlier. He pulls out two chocolate lollipops and some of the other candy he saw you liked the most, not fully realizing that he perfectly remembers this information. He looks at the bag with pan dulce. There are only two pieces of bread left. He extends his arms, offering you the bag with bread and the candy. It’s his own way of reciprocating your words to him. You look up at him, a little surprised.

“Oh, thank you but you don’t have to do that,” you say not making a move to take the items.

He looks down at you. “I insist… please,” he says quietly with a firm yet breathy tone.

Noticing his tone, you nod slowly and take the items from his hands gently. Your bare fingers brush his suited palm and fingers as you take the individual pieces of candy. The sensation is almost ticklish to Miguel’s palm, but he keeps his hand steady. Once you have everything in your hands, you look up at him again and smile.

“There was no need for this but thank you.”

Miguel nods, wishing he could’ve done this on top of reciprocating your words. Maybe another time.

“I hope you enjoy the other pieces of bread,” he says softly.

“I have no doubt I will,” you reply, still smiling. There’s a few seconds of silence between the two of you before you speak again. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you again… for everything.”

Miguel nods. “Thank you. I’ll see you later today,” he replies remembering it’s already early morning.

You nod one more time at him before you turn your eyes to the ofrenda. Your eyes fall on each photograph, and you say a silent goodbye to them. You don’t celebrate but you hope that they came to see Miguel tonight.

“Good night,” you finally say.

“Good night,” Miguel replies before you walk around the platform. Miguel remains standing in front of his ofrenda. He hears the multidimensional portal open nearby and then it’s quiet again. His eyes fall on each photograph, the flickering candles casting dancing shadows on his loved ones’ faces. He stands there for a few minutes, quietly thinking before he breaks the silence in his empty lab.

“I’m here for you, too...”

_________________

Translation for italicized words: Dia de los Muertos - Day of the Dead Ofrenda - Altar for Day of the Death Pan Dulce - Sweet Bread (Mexican pastries) "Perdóname, mija" - "Forgive me, my daughter." Mija(o) is a combination of "Mi" and "Hija(o)"

For the other italicized food items mentioned by Miguel from his childhood and items described on Gabriella's ofrenda, you can find a food guide right here that I quickly put together.

--

Ok, so I just want to say sorry for the freaking LONG update. My jaw dropped when I checked the word count once I was done editing (no wonder it took me so long). I don't think any other part will be this long. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and that if you love autumn (like me) this brought you comfort. I'm done with this summer heat 😭

I also want to ask how would you guys feel about a short Christmas part? It wouldn't be super long but I thought of Miguel in Christmas time and I just - Imagine Miguel in a chunky cable knit turtle neck sweater!! (Screaming, crying) If not, it's okay. I already have the "next" part mapped out and... I'm not well thinking about it.

As always, thank you for the support. For the lovely comments and asks. Reading them makes me so happy. Thank you 🥹

I love Miguel,

Alondra

Tag list:

@loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @rootin-tootin-morgan @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 @mandodinstuff @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes

[callsign-dexter]

Heartbeat Promise

Request: Aw yaaay 😊 I just wanted to make sure before requesting 🥰 it would be an idea with Connor, where you're dating but recently didn't have much time together due to your work (you're a nurse in the ER). So you also barely talk at the moment and you don't tell him about some chest pain you recently have, as you don't want to put more worries on his plate. One time during your shift you pass out as the pain gets too much and Maggie immediately pages Connor. He's more than worried and feels terrible for not noticing how you feel. So he stays by your side all the time and when you wake up he apologizes for not being there and promises to work on spending more time together and that he'll be there whenever you need him. I hope this is ok 💕

Pairings: Connor Rhodes x Nurse!Halstead!Reader

Warnings: chest pain, inaccurate medical talk, fluff, angst

Masterlist

It wasn't like you weren't going to tell your extremely handsome, smart, overprotective, and doctor boyfriend, aka Connor Rhodes, that you were having chest pains. You were honestly. Well eventually. With both of your schedules being super busy and one or both of you pulling double shifts. He has been stressed out by the number of difficult surgeries and overbearing patients that you didn't want to add anymore onto his plate, so you kept quiet. It got worse when you took a deep breath so you kept your breaths short.

You have been dating for 2 years now and you both were very in love with one another. Recently you two barely have time to talk with each other. Your routine was the same but shortened drastically. Before you would come home cuddle for a little bit, eat dinner, talk about work, watch a movie or TV show, take a shower together, get ready for bed, and once in bed cuddle so more until you're asleep. Now it's come home put dinner on before he got home and then you go take a shower and eat and start getting ready for bed and then up before he even got up. It just wasn't the same and you missed it and you could tell he was missing it too. You were just too tired most of the time.

You would catch him giving you longing looks but then you would start doing something else. Since you two haven't been spending much time together, despite you both living under the same roof, he didn't catch you holding your chest, when your breath caught, or you just being out of breath doing simple things.

Every day it was getting worse and every day you didn't tell him. You felt guilty but you didn't want to burden him and when you were at work you hardly see each other. You tried to keep it to yourself but you worked with other nurses and doctors. One particular doctor noticed you having some problems, that doctor would be none other than Dr. William Halstead, aka your twin brother.

You and Will were truly inseparable even with him being a millisecond older which he likes to brag about it. You and your younger brother, Jay Halstead were also inseparable but not like you and Will. Will would notice you wince every now and then, especially when picking something heavy up, and he noticed that you seem to run out of breath but each time he asked you about it, you just told him fine and left the conversation. You didn't want to tell him because then he would be telling Connor and that's the last thing you wanted.

You were in the break room for a break when Will decided to confront you. "Y/N are you ok?" He asked you as you were getting your water bottle. You turned to look at him.

"I'm fine. What makes you think there is something wrong?" You asked back as your breath caught in your throat.

"You just seem in pain." He said almost going into big brother, by a millisecond, doctor mode but you shook your head and waved him off.

"I'm fine Will." You said as you set down ready to eat a little bit of something and have a break from being on your feet for 9 hours into your 24-hour shift.

"If you need anything, you can come to me. You know that right?" He asked you and you nodded your head.

"Yes, I know that." You said and smiled at him. "Are we still on for drinks tonight tomorrow tonight with Jay?" You asked him. It was 3 PM on a Friday, you, your brothers, and Connor had arranged for you all to go out to Molly's for drinks every Saturday if your work permitted it.

"As of right now, yes we are. So, how are you and the love of your life doing these days?" He asked and you sighed which was a big mistake because when you did a pain shot through your chest. Will looked at you concerned but you didn't acknowledge it.

"We're fine. I think." You paused and thought "We haven't been spending much time or talked much as we used to with our busy schedules." You told him and he nodded feeling bad for you. Your watch beeped meaning your break was over. "Well, it looks like my break is over brother. I'll see you later." You said and stood up and instantly got dizzy you grabbed the table loudly and Will took notice and got up steadying you.

"Y/N/N are you sure you're fine?" He asked you and you nodded the dizziness and pain going away.

"I'm fine." You said breathlessly and composed yourself and walked out of the break room leaving with a concerned brother behind. You walked over to the front desk where Maggie was.

"How's my favorite Halstead sibling and nurse doing?" She asked you and you raised an eyebrow looking at her.

"I'm fine..... what do you need?" You asked her fighting through the pain trying not to let weakness show.

"There is a patient in Trauma 2 that needs a consult." She said and you looked at her with the same look.

"Why couldn't anyone else do it?" You asked her.

"Because you're my best nurse and nobody else wanted to take them." She said and you raised eyebrow turned into a glare, playful.

"Fine. You owe me." You said and she nodded

"Thank you so much!" She said and handed you the tablet. You walked into Trauma 2 and found a middle-aged, tall, blonde, and blue-eyed man.

"Hello, Mr. Coal. I'm Nurse Halstead. What seems to be the problem?" You asked him and looked up at him just to see him looking and smiling at you.

"Nothing now that you're here." He said and your refrained from rolling your eyes. Blood pressure skyrockets causing your chest to hurt. Oh, how you wish Connor was here with you.

"It says here that, you came in for some tenderness in the lower right side of your abdomen. Is that correct?" You asked him and he nodded his head getting that your weren't going to flirt back.

"Yes. It started 2 days ago around noon. I thought it was just something bad I ate but it just started to get worse." He said and you nodded your head and typed it into the tablet. You paused and took a deep breath which made your chest hurt and he looked at you in concern. "Are you ok ma'am?" He asked and you nodded your head.

"I'm fine. This is about you." You said with a smile and he nodded "I'm going to have a listen to you and get some vitals." You told him and he nodded. You did just that and he was very cooperative and polite. You entered your results into the tablet. "I'm just going to feel around on your stomach. So please lie back." You told him and he did as told. You started to feel around and asked him if he felt any pain and when you got to the right side and pressed down he groaned out in pain and you let up. You typed in the results and nodded. "I think you have appendicitis but I want to confirm with a doctor. So please be patient and I'll be back with you shortly." You said and he nodded. You walked out and to the front desk. Maggie was there "Hey Maggie can you page Dr. Halstead for me? My pager stopped working and I haven't had time to get a new one. I want a confirmation on a consult." She nodded while you typed in more details on the tablet.

A few minutes went by and your brother walked over to you. "Maggie paged me. What's up?" He asked you.

"There is a patient in Trauma 2 and I believe he has appendicitis." You said almost out of breath maybe it was just tiredness, to be fair it was the 10th hour into your shift. He looked at you concerned but knew you were stubborn. "He had some tenderness on the right side of his abdomen, all vitals were normal." You said and he nodded his head.

"Lead the way." He said and you did just that. You walked in first and Cole was sitting up.

"This is Dr. Halstead he's just going to confirm my suspension." You said and he nodded. Will did the same thing you did and confirmed it.

"You do have appendicitis and we'll get you up to surgery right away. We'll be in shortly to start preparing you." Will said and Cole nodded.

"Thank you." He said and you both smiled and walked out of the room closing the curtain. Your chest was on fire. It was hard to breathe. You grabbed the desk and your breathing became labored.

"Y/N are you ok?" Will asked having heard your sudden change of breathing pattern and looked at you. You were sweating. You looked up at him and shook your head and the next thing Will knew your eyes were rolling to the back of your head and your knees gave out. He caught you "Woah. Ok, sis. I got you." He said even though you were unconscious. You fainting and him catching you caught everyone's attention. Maggie pointed him to Trauma 4.

"I paged Connor. He's on his way down." Maggie said and just about that time, he came barreling through the curtain to find his girlfriend on the bed unconscious. They had just sat you down on the bed.

"What happened?" He asked whipping out his stethoscope and starting to listen to you.

"I don't know. We were at the desk and all of a sudden her breathing changed and she passed out. She would've hit the ground if I hadn't caught her." Will said just as he got done listening to you. Connor nodded "I'm gonna go and call Jay and let him know what is going on." Will said needing to step out of the room, again Connor nodded.

He noticed that your heart rate was way too fast. Maggie, who was in the room, was hooking you up to the heart monitor. There wasn't anything for them to do but wait for you to wake up.

It was around 20 minutes later that you started to wake up to the sound of the heart monitor going. You slowly open your eyes and see both of your brothers and your boyfriend sitting there. Jay was next to you watching you and saw your eyes open.

"Hey sis. Welcome back to consciousness." Jay said with a smirk which made you smirk.

"Shut up." You told him that got a laugh out of the other two males.

"What's going on babe?" Connor asked and you sighed.

"I'll tell you after you get these leads off of me." You said and both Connor and Will moved to fill your request. Once it was done they nodded at you so you began. "It started Thursday. We both have been under a lot of stress and then I was worried that you weren't happy. I was also worried that we were going to break up because we weren’t spending time together as often. It made me start to stress out and then my chest started to hurt. Instead of telling you and putting more on your plate with the difficult surgeries and the amount, I didn't want you to worry about me." You said mainly to Connor but the rest of them heard.

"Oh, babe. I'm sorry we haven't been spending time together. But baby, 9 days? That's a lot of time to keep something a secret, especially something medical. I promise we'll start spending more time together. I should've seen the signs." He said and you nodded.

"Sis, I think I can speak for Jay as well, you could've come to us. We would've dropped everything for you. I'm a doctor I could've helped." Will said.

"I'm no doctor but you could've still come to me or even Haley." Jay said you had tears forming in your eyes.

"Thank you, guys. I'm sorry I kept it from you. I just hate bothering you all with knowing how busy our schedules are." You said and just then Goodwin walked in.

"Nurse Halstead, I heard that you fainted." She said and you nodded "Are you ok?" She asked you.

"Yes, I'm ok now. I had some chest pains and passed out. I was just stressed out." You said and she nodded.

"Well, I'm glad you're ok. I'm giving you the rest of the day off. Connor, I'm giving you the rest of the day off as well to watch out for our best nurse, your appointments, and surgeries have been handed over or rescheduled. Y/N, you take care of yourself and more getting into stressful situations." She said, "Have a good day and see you soon." Goodwin finished and walked out.

"Well, you heard her. Go get your stuff and head home." Jay said and you all laughed Connor helped you off the bed you bid your brothers a goodbye and you left with Connor.

When you got to the locker room Connor stood back watching you. "You should've told me, babe." He said softly and you turned around leaning up against the lockers.

"I know but you were already stressed. I didn't want my problems being put on your plate." You said softly back he walked over to you and brought you into a hug. You inhaled his musky scent and buried your head in his chest.

"From now on tell me what is going on no matter how silly it is. I'm in this with you no matter what. I'm sorry I didn't notice earlier. From now on we're going to be spending much more time with each other. From now on you have my utmost undivided attention." He said as he dropped a kiss on your head. You knew it was true.

"I like the sound of that." You said pulling back. You both finished getting your stuff and he slung his bag over his shoulder and grabbed yours. He slung his right arm around you and you both walked out of the hospital.

Since he drove you both to work, he drove you home. It was mostly silent but it was comfortable. He was holding your left hand over the center console and every now and then rubbed it with his thumb or kissed it.

When you got home it was all about you. Connor made you go change into something comfortable. He then made you sit on the couch while he made you both something to eat. After you were situated he went and changed and joined you. "I'm capable of doing things on my own you know." You said as he tried to feed you and he let out a deep chest chuckle that you loved.

"Yes I know but I want to keep the stress off of you. I'm also doing it because I love you and it's a way to say I'm sorry. Also doctors orders." He said and you could've sworn your heart melted and you laughed. You leaned up and kissed him which he returned. You let him feed you and as he ate. Once you were done you cuddled into his side and wrapped your arms around him, him doing the same to you and watching whatever you put on when he made you sit down.

"I promise to tell you next time in a heartbeat." You said and he chuckled. "I love you, babe." You said.

"I love you too." He replied. The fatigue was catching up to you and the warmth of your boyfriend along with his scent, was putting you to sleep. You tried to keep your eyes open as snuggled into him further, a sign he knew that you were getting tired. "Get some sleep, babe. I'm right here with you." He said and that's all it took for you to close your eyes and drift off to a peaceful sleep. Your breath evened out and Connor dropped a kiss onto your head.

Connor was going to make things right again. He loved you with his whole heart. He knew you were the right one for him and he couldn't wait to spend more years with you.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

[jamsandsuch]

advice for first year uni students from a uni senior

the roommate(s) will always be more important than the room

+ for roommates, SET. CLEANING. EXPECTATIONS. EARLY. don't wait until you're uncomfortable with how much mess is in the kitchen for you to start thinking if you should bring it up or not. set standards and make them clear.

put your key on a lanyard and hang it from your doorknob when you’re at home so you don’t forget it on the way out

if your dorm has a shared laundry room, set your timer for when your laundry finishes ~5 mins early to give you time to walk from your room to the laundry - especially during weekends/evenings/finals people wont have the patience to wait for you - even if your load just finished

If you have noodle arms like me, buy yourself one of those collapsible grocery carts you drag behind you like a luggage - best purchase i've ever made

Or if you're lazy, order online - but order on a free day because even if you schedule a time they're always gonna come stupid early and you dont want any frozen items to get spoiled or have your groceries stolen

DONT BUY ANY TEXTBOOKS/MATERIALS UNTIL THE FIRST WEEK/CLASSES ARE OVER. sometimes you’ll have early access to the booklist or syllabus and go ahead and start buying textbooks, but increasingly often you’ll buy the materials and show up to class just to find your prof has uploaded scanned copies of everything. *save your money*, wait!

BEFORE SCHOOL STARTS - look at your class schedule and walk around campus to find each classroom. you will probably get lost on day 1 and so will many other students so this will save you a lot of walking around bumping into other lost first years

trust me after a few weeks you won’t be waking up for that 8am class. i know you did it 5 days a week in high school, but there’s a reason uni students are allergic to morning classes. know your natural energy/attention levels and take advantage of the freedom to build your schedule around your energy fluctuations

compress/stack your class schedule as much as possible. if you absolutely do need breaks, make them at least 1.5-2 hours long or you probably wont get anything productive done and minimize these long breaks as much as you can so you can just get your day over with sooner

work smarter, not harder - when school starts note each course’s assessment type by quizzes/finals/essays. if i ever have a course thats just essays, i only do lecture notes + write my own annotations about readings rather than taking notes on them which saves time i can dedicate to textbook notetaking for courses with frequent quizzes + finals

if your school has benefits/discounts/insurance - know what it is and USE IT.

most clubs wont be like high school where there are regular meetings you attend. unless youre in the exec team the membership fee you pay/when you sign up for membership it’s just for access to their events when they happen. if you want to be involved in a club in a way thats as involved as high school, look at their social media pages for hiring.

+ as someone who has had to hire before - if you’re nervous, literally just do it. i was in an exec position for our student union services and once only had like 3 applicants to pick from

if you want to be noticed by a professor, sit in the front row. and always answer/ask questions - it doesn’t matter if you said anything of substance or not, they will remember that you contributed

that and also always make the point to say hello and goodbye! eventually (in my experience) if you come early enough and are just waiting for class to start, a conversation will happen - make these regular enough and you could have an important connection!

disclaimer: of course, not all of this might be something that resonates with you/possible for your course or school, so in the words of my cousin - take what resonates

+ anyone else is free to add on!!

[comfortzonequeen]

Under Starlit Skies

Summary: A story where reader and Austin Butler are working together on a romantic movie, and while filming, their on-screen chemistry starts to blur the lines with their real-life feelings for each other?

Warning: N\A

Y/N L/N and Austin Butler were cast as leads in a romantic drama, a project everyone in Hollywood was buzzing about. The movie, "Under Starlit Skies", was about two people who meet by chance during a magical evening and slowly fall in love. Their characters, deeply intertwined in emotion, had undeniable chemistry from the very first table read. But what no one anticipated was that this chemistry would spill into their real lives.

Day 1 on Set

The first day of shooting took place in a beautiful, secluded vineyard just outside of Napa Valley. The scene required Y/N and Austin to share a quiet, intimate moment under the stars. As they rehearsed the lines, the glow of the moonlight and the warmth of the nearby campfire set a calming tone.

"You're really good at this," Austin complimented, his blue eyes sparkling in the dim light.

Y/N smiled, feeling a slight flutter in her chest. "Thanks. I could say the same about you."

They fell into a comfortable rhythm, effortlessly bouncing off each other's energy. The crew was watching closely, captivated by how easily they seemed to connect. Even the director, a veteran of countless love stories, was impressed. "Cut! Perfect take, guys. Let’s move on to the next."

But neither Y/N nor Austin was ready to walk away. They lingered, sharing a smile, before heading off to their trailers.

Late-Night Rehearsals

As the days turned into weeks, Y/N and Austin found themselves spending more time together. The demanding shooting schedule gave them little time for much else, and soon they were having late-night rehearsals in Y/N’s trailer.

"You know," Austin said one evening, leaning back on the couch, "this script is great and all, but I think we could add something more to this scene. Make it feel... real."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Like what?"

"I don't know, maybe we play with the pauses between our lines. Sometimes, when people are falling in love, it's the silence that says the most."

She thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "I like that. Let's try it."

They ran through the lines again, adding subtle moments of quiet, glances that lingered a little too long, and smiles that felt all too genuine. By the end of the scene, they were sitting closer, their knees touching.

On-Set Chemistry

The director had noticed something shifting between Y/N and Austin. Their on-screen chemistry was electric, so much so that the rest of the cast began making little jokes about it.

"You two should get a room," one of the crew members teased after a particularly steamy scene.

Y/N laughed it off, but her heart raced every time she was near Austin. It was undeniable—they were growing closer. What started as friendly banter had evolved into something much deeper. Austin would make her coffee in the mornings, and she'd wait for him after they wrapped each day. Their conversations grew longer, and the silences between them, even off-camera, were comfortable, full of unspoken understanding.

The Turning Point

One evening, after filming a particularly emotional scene, Austin invited Y/N to grab dinner at a quiet little restaurant off the beaten path. The small town they were filming in didn't have much, but the ambiance of the place was perfect.

Over dinner, they talked about everything—life, work, dreams, and fears. Y/N shared stories of her childhood, and Austin opened up about his career and the pressures of being in the spotlight.

"I'm glad you're here," he said softly, his hand resting on the table near hers. "I don't think this film would've worked without you."

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. "I feel the same way. This has been... unexpected."

"Unexpected, but good?"

"Yeah. Really good."

There was a pause, the kind Austin had suggested in their rehearsal weeks ago. They held each other’s gaze, the energy between them shifting.

Austin reached across the table, gently taking Y/N’s hand. "We should stop pretending this is just for the movie."

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by his boldness, but the truth of his words resonated deeply. "What do we do then?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Austin’s smile was tender, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "We let it happen. No pressure. No expectations."

Balancing Work and Love

After that night, Y/N and Austin’s relationship evolved quietly. They tried to keep things professional on set, but their stolen glances and subtle touches didn’t go unnoticed by the cast and crew.

Off-set, they spent their free time exploring new cities together as the movie took them to different locations. Whether it was wandering through the streets of Paris or sipping coffee in a cozy café in Prague, they found moments to just be themselves, away from the public eye.

The intensity of their work on-screen bled into their real-life connection, but they both knew the importance of keeping things balanced. They supported each other, Austin showing up to set early to cheer her on during difficult scenes, and Y/N being a grounding presence when the weight of fame bore down on him.

The Premiere

When "Under Starlit Skies" premiered, the media couldn’t get enough of KC and Austin. Their chemistry on the red carpet was undeniable, with photographers constantly snapping pictures of them laughing together, stealing little touches, and whispering in each other’s ears.

As the movie played on the big screen, audiences were captivated by the love story, but what most didn’t realize was that the real love story had unfolded behind the scenes.

By the time the credits rolled, it wasn’t just the characters in the movie who had fallen in love. Y/N and Austin had found something real, something they hadn’t anticipated but couldn’t deny. And as they stepped out of the theater hand in hand, the world watched in awe, knowing this wasn’t just a Hollywood romance—it was the start of something beautiful.

End

Author's Note: This is my first ever imagine guys so please don't come for me. I know it's short but ...... No buts. But please feel free to tell me what you think. Been hella obsessed with AB lately.

💋😘

[goldenempyrean]

Hey! I have a request. Could you write something where Wanda has been a bit stressed with work, and R had the flu. R doesn't want to add to Wanda's stress, so R hides their sickness. R has to go and do something outside for whatever reason (even though Wanda protests) and when R comes back in, their so delirious and out of it, they tell Wanda they feel sick, even though they don't really know what's going on. Thank you for your time!

Don't You Worry About Me

〚 Notes  - Hey! Just another lil piece to fill the gap as I work on the AU :) Oh, please lmk what yall think about the new lil colours for the titles and stuff. I think it looks pretty cool! Also my amazing @lyak12 helped me out with the main idea for this too!〛

〚 Pairing- Wanda Maximoff x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - Wanda's been swamped with work lately and the last thing you wanted to was to add to her stress. Even if it means hiding the truth from her. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 3140 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

Wanda had spent the last few days battling a nasty case of the flu. She had been feeling weak and achy and was fighting a fever which just wouldn't break, no matter how hard you tried. But she was finally starting to feel better and had even managed to drag herself into her online work that morning. Unfortunately, she’d quickly realised that she was behind schedule on her reports. For some dumb reason Fury had decided to shorten the deadline and now she was quickly running out of time to complete them all. 

She tried to focus on her work, but her head was still a bit fuzzy from the fever. She kept having to stop and reread things, and it was taking her twice as long as it should have. She could feel her stress levels rising as the clock ticked on and her to-do list seemed to be getting longer rather than shorter. And despite your best efforts to keep her calm, every little thing only seemed to add to the growing pile of stress pressing down on her. That was probably why you hadn't even registered the aching feeling in your bones, you were far too busy.  

But as the day went on, you couldn't ignore the sick feeling that was slowly creeping up on you. Your head was starting to throb, and your throat was beginning to feel scratchy. You tried to push through it, but every time you stood up to grab something, you found yourself feeling dizzy and disoriented.  

Around noon you'd decided to make some tea and that's when you'd first noticed it, the weakness in your arm as you went to lift the kettle. That’s when it really clicked for you that you were getting sick, and you had to stifle an annoyed groan. Of course you’d caught it from her. Just great... But it wasn't exactly like you had the time to dwell on it – if you did you’d only end up alerting Wanda to your condition, which was the last thing you wanted, especially when she was already so stressed with her work, so instead you finished up the tea and came to sit beside Wanda in the living room, attempting to clear a space on the coffee table between the piles of paperwork and files to place her mug down. 

You could see the frustration and exhaustion written all over her face as she loudly tapped on the laptop settled on her knees. It made your heart ache. You knew that she was the type of person who hated falling behind on her work, especially when deadlines were involved. 

Wanda looked up from her laptop and smiled weakly as you placed the mug of tea in front of her. "Thank you," she murmured before turning her attention back to her work. You settled down beside her, trying to ignore the growing ache in your bones. You really didn't want to worry Wanda, especially since she was already stressed enough as it was. "How's your day going?" She asked casually, her voice still a little hoarse from days of coughing. 

You shrugged. "Busy, but nothing I can't handle," You replied, trying to sound optimistic, “Can I do anything else for you though sweetheart?” you offered sweetly as you reached out to gently squeeze her thigh. 

“Is there any way you could help me with these?” She motioned to the stacks of paper littering the coffee table, “I know it wasn’t your mission but I’m so far behind and Fury’s going to have my head chopped off and hung up for public display if I don’t get this all done.” 

You nodded, Fury was known for being strict with deadlines, “Okay baby, do you want me to look over these?” You asked, picking up one of the denser files. 

“That’d be amazing.” Wanda sighed in relief as she leant over to kiss your cheek, “You’re doing me such a huge favour baby.” 

As you both started working on the reports, you could feel your own weakness and fatigue growing with every passing minute, not to mention the constant feeling like your nose was running leading you to sniffle quietly every so often. But you pushed through it, determined to help Wanda get her work done. Much to your annoyance, over the next few hours, your sniffles only increased, and you were frequently having to take breaks to go and discreetly blow your nose in another room. On a normal occasion you would’ve told Wanda the second you began to feel like something was off, but you knew that telling her would only stress her out further and there was no way you wanted to do that. So, you stayed painfully silent about the growing pressure in your sinuses and continued to diligently help Wanda with her work. 

As the day wore on, you could feel the exhaustion starting to take its toll on you. Your body felt heavy, and your mind was starting to feel foggy. You knew you should probably take a break and rest, but you didn't want to let her down so when Wanda suggested taking a break, you instantly jumped on the opportunity. 

By the time the two of you were going to bed, you felt thoroughly exhausted. Even just moving felt like a monumental task and you had to fight to stay awake as you brushed your teeth. By some miracle, you managed to finish getting ready for bed without falling asleep, it was just as you were giving yourself a final look over in the mirror when you felt the annoying itch in your sinuses. 

“Hh'ishu! Ish'chu! HeH’TSHiew!” Despite your best efforts to stay quiet, your last sneeze ended up being on the louder side prompting Wanda to call out a ‘bless you!’ from the bedroom. You waited hesitantly to see whether she’d say anything else, but it seemed her poor mind was too preoccupied with the looming work of tomorrow for her to connect the dots, so you took the opportunity to thoroughly blow your nose before padding back into your bedroom. 

“You tired my love?” Wanda asked, as you sank into the bed, welcoming the warmth of your blankets, “Thanks for helping me out so much today.” 

“A little.” You mumbled – ‘a little’ was a huge understatement, “and you don’t need to thank me darling, I just want you to be able to get all this work done.” 

“You helped a lot. I'm really thankful.” Wanda murmured quietly as she yawned widely before nuzzling against you, “Goodnight baby.” 

“Goodnight Wands.” 

〘✧✧✧〙   

When you woke up the next morning the bed was cold. Painfully cold. You rolled over into the spot where Wanda would usually be led, only to be met with an empty bed. You felt awful, you’d barely opened your eyes when you were struck with a harsh, painful headache nestled deep behind them. Groaning, you tried to sit up, though admittedly it did numerous attempts, and you began slowly massaging temples in a feeble attempt of getting some form of relief. 

Pulling your aching body out of bed seemed almost impossible but you did it anyway, trying to take a deep breath as the room span around you. There was no way you were getting properly dressed today, instead you opted to pull on one of Wanda’s fuzzy cardigans instead before heading over to the bathroom. 

You really should’ve prepared yourself better for the reflection staring back at you in the mirror. You looked awful. Thick purple bags hung beneath your red, tired eyes, only extenuated further by your sickly, white skin. You hadn’t even had the chance to criticise your fever flushed cheeks before your sinuses reared their complaints and sent you bending at the waist with two strong sneezes only to be followed by a harsh bout of thick coughing which left you trembling and breathless. 

After the coughing fit subsided, you stumbled over to the sink and splashed some water on your face. The cool liquid brought a small measure of relief to your pounding head, but it wasn't enough to stop the dizziness from overwhelming you. You leaned heavily against the counter, willing the room to stop spinning. Humouring yourself, you decided to take your own temperature and even that was a huge task, especially when you weren’t able to breathe out of your overly stuffy nose. 

However, you managed to hold your breath long enough for the small device to beep loudly, announcing its verdict. 

“Oh shit...” You mumbled to yourself, looking down at the numbers on the slightly blurry electronic screen. 39.1 - that really wasn’t good, truthfully it wasn’t just the screen that was blurry, everything around you seemed to be muffled by a thick wall of cotton and you only found yourself cursing again when you opened the bathroom cupboard to see an almost-empty bottle of Flu medicine sitting on the shelf. 

Wanda had used the last of it. 

Great. 

Speaking of. You wished Wanda was here. You needed her more than ever, you craved her comfort and longed for her to tuck you up into bed but no, you were stuck here staring at your pitiful reflection, feeling like death warmed over. Just as you were about to call out for her something stopped you.  

She still had her work to do, calling out for her now would only distract her. Muffling another round of harsh, chesty coughs into your sleeve only made tears well up in your eyes. But you didn't cry. You only sniffled and reminded yourself that you were an Avenger too. You might not have powers, but you had resilience and determination, and you weren't going to let the flu defeat you. You just had to toughen up. How far even was the shop anyway? All you needed to do was go out and by yourself some medicine. That’s all you needed to do. 

Taking a deep breath, you pulled yourself away from the bathroom counter and slowly made your way to the door. The room spun as you tried to focus on the hallway in front of you. Every step felt like a marathon, your body ached and shivered with every move. But you pushed on, driven by the desire to get better and not let this illness get the better of you. 

Ignoring Wanda’s call of ‘goodmorning’ from the kitchen, you reached the front door, opening to only be blinded by the intense light beaming down from the blue sky. It was a beautiful day, the kind of day you would usually spend outside, enjoying the warmth and taking in the sights of the city. But today, all you could think of was getting to the pharmacy and getting back to bed. 

With shaky hands, you stepped outside, continuing to ignore Wanda’s calls of confusion. The cool air hit you instantly, and you shuddered, pulling the cardigan tighter around yourself. The pharmacy was only a few blocks away, but each step felt like an eternity. You could feel your temperature rising, your head pounding, and your breathing becoming more and more laboured. 

You didn’t know how long you were walking for before you decided to turn back, everything was too much, the light, your wheezing exhausted breathing, everything. Hell, you could barely make out your own hand in front of your pale face as the world spun around you. It was a miracle you’d even made it this far without collapsing. 

And so, by the time you’d stumbled back into the safety of your home, all your energy had been thoroughly drained, and you clutched the wall for support, knowing it was the only thing keeping you upright. 

“Sweetie? Where did you go?” Wanda called out as the sound of the door closing echoed through your home, hearing no answer, the witch stood up from the table and slowly padded over to peek round the corner only to frantically rush to your side when she saw you leaning weakly against the wall for support, “Oh my god, Y/N?! Holy shit, you’re on fire, why on earth were you outside? When did you get this sick? Fuck Y/N-” 

Truthfully, you were only hearing about half of the worried words frantically spilling from her, you were too busy on attempting to keep yourself lucid which was proving to be a very difficult task when the room around you wouldn’t stop spinning, “We need’d med’cine.” Your words came out in a jumbled mess as Wanda pulled you into her arms, cradling your trembling body. 

“No, no baby you need to be in bed. Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling sick? When did you even get sick? This can’t be new.” Her anxious tone was impossible to miss as you felt yourself being lifted up into her arms as she carried you in the direction of your bedroom, “Why didn’t I notice this...” 

“Yo’ were busy wit’ work.” Your slurred word were barely decipherable and you soon felt yourself being lowered down onto the familiar softness of your bed; a thick blanket being tucked over your shaking body.   

Wanda’s face was etched with worry as she looked down at you, “No, I should have noticed. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. My work is nowhere near as important as your health is.” She pressed a cool hand to your sweat-soaked forehead, “You’re beyond burning up...” 

Your response was only a mutter of unaudiable words as Wanda quickly rushed out of the room. It felt like she was gone for hours, but in reality, it was only probably a few minutes. But when she returned, she was tightly clutching a small bottle in her hands, “I got this from the neighbours, it isn’t too strong but it’s the only thing we have on hand.” 

“Mm?” you tried sitting up, but a firm hand kept you in place. 

“No baby, lay down. I just need you to drink this, okay?” Wanda’s words soothed you as she poured out a dose of the medicine and held it to your lips, rubbing your back as you sipped it weakly.  

The medicine was bitter and made you scrunch up your face, but you were too weak to protest. Wanda continued to stroke your hair and hum a gentle tune, trying to calm you down as the medicine began to take effect. Gradually, you felt the heat in your body subside a little and your breathing became easier. 

“Poor baby, I'm so sorry that I got caught up in all that work.” She whispered quietly, reaching over to grab some tissues when you began fussing with your running nose. 

She must’ve been physic or something because only seconds later, you felt your nose burn with that pestering itch again and you only had to energy to turn your head away in the opposite direction to her before...  

““Ihsheiueww! Hih...hihhEHHHSHIEW!” 

“Awh my poor baby, bless you.” Wanda sighed, taking another handful of tissues to wipe your face before running her hand through your slightly-damp hair, “This bug’s really doing a number on you, isn’t it?” 

You could only manage a weak nod in response, feeling utterly drained and exhausted. But as Wanda continued to care for you, you couldn't help but feel grateful for her presence. Her gentle touch and soothing words were the only things keeping you grounded in reality. 

As the medicine began to take full effect, you felt your eyes start to droop and your body relax into the mattress. Wanda must have noticed because she leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead before whispering, "Get some rest, my love. I'll be right here with you." 

And with those words, you allowed yourself to drift off into a peaceful slumber, feeling safe and comforted in Wanda's loving embrace. 

The next time you opened your eyes, the room was dark, and you could see the faint outline of Wanda sitting in a chair beside you, still keeping a watchful eye. She must have fallen asleep at some point because her head was resting against the back of the chair, her breathing slow and steady. You didn't want to wake her, but your throat was parched, and you needed water. 

You mustered up all your strength to croak out her name, "Wanda?" 

She stirred slightly and opened her eyes, rubbing them to adjust to the dim light. "Hey there, how are you feeling?" she asked softly. 

"Thirsty," you managed to say, your gravelly voice barely above a whisper. 

Wanda immediately stood up and grabbed a glass of water from the bedside table. She helped you sit up and slowly raised the glass to your lips, supporting your head with her other hand. The cool water felt heavenly on your parched throat, and you gulped it down greedily. 

"Thanks," you said, your voice a bit stronger now. 

Wanda smiled, "Anything for you, my love." 

You settled back down into the bed, feeling a bit more comfortable now that you had some water in your system. Wanda pulled the covers up to your chin and tucked you in, her hand lingering on your forehead to check your temperature. 

"You're still warm," she noted. "But your fever has gone down a little, I was seriously debating taking you to hospital earlier y’know.” 

The next few days were a blur of fever dreams and fits of coughing, but Wanda remained by your side throughout it all. She made sure you were always comfortable, bringing you hot soup and a cool washcloth to soothe your burning forehead. 

Despite the pain and discomfort, there was something oddly comforting about being so vulnerable around Wanda. She never judged you or made you feel weak for being sick. Instead, she loved and cared for you even more, making you feel truly cherished. 

As the days passed, your symptoms gradually began to subside, and you started to feel more like yourself again. Wanda was always at your side, encouraging you to take it slow and rest as much as possible. 

Finally, the day came when you felt strong enough to get out of bed and move around a little. You stumbled into the living room, feeling a little unsteady on your feet, but Wanda was there to catch you. 

"Easy there," she said, smiling gently. "How are you feeling?" 

"Better," you replied, your voice still a little raspy from all the constant coughing. "Thanks to you." 

Wanda's smile widened, and she pulled you into a warm embrace. "I'm just glad you're feeling better," she whispered. "I was so worried about you." 

You hugged her back, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you. Despite the illness, it had brought you even closer to Wanda, and you knew that you would always have her by your side, no matter what. 

〖 Join My Taglist! 〗@sayah13 @scrambled-brain-eggs @natashamyl0ve @shin-conan-kun @bloomingflowersthings @kathleenmikaelson @shamelessbearunknown @inluvwithfictionalwomen @ceiestiaie @fluffyblanketgecko @kljhsong @santana1437 @lovelyy-moonlight @juiles @lots-of-pockets 

[riofann]

Future Planning

Trigger Warning: Abortion, Pregnancy

“Yay daddy's home!”

“Yay” you say unenthusiastically, not wanting to have the conversation you planned on having with him. 

As Marcus gets out of the car and runs towards the door. You grab the groceries and follow inside. 

“Oh man, you let Y/N carry all the bags? I taught you better than that” Rio lightly scolds while reaching for them 

“It's okay” you say maneuvering around him and placing them on the counter

“I'm sorry, won't happen again” Marcus hugs you suddenly

“Apology accepted” you smile down at him rubbing his head 

Rio and Marcus spend some time catching up until Marcus retreats to his room to do homework, shower, and get ready for dinner.

“You good mama?” He asks noticing how distant you were being 

“Yes” you say smiling at him and returning to cut the potatoes, he was moving closer to you and you had yet to break the news to him 

“You look good….I missed you” he wraps his arms around you from behind and places a soft kiss on your neck 

“Thanks” you look down and your hands are slightly trembling. This could wait till after dinner you try to rationalize but it couldn't because he might have already noticed something was off. No greater time than the present just rip off the bandaid you coach yourself. 

“We need to talk!” you blurt out and step away from him 

“Okay” He hated those 4 words especially when they came from you. It meant you were unhappy about something he did or didn't do.

“What is it?”  He watches as you create space between you two standing on the other side of the counter. It must have been really bad you only do this when it's bad. And he is bracing for impact

Just say it like you practiced, you coach yourself “I'm pregnant” you say matter of factly. A smile immediately appears on his face. And he walks over to you but stops when you put your hand up. "But I don't think we are ready so I've scheduled an abortion for end of the week” there it was finally out in the open

He stops smiling. “What do you mean by 'we are not ready’”. He chuckles, “this a joke or something mama?”

You shake your head “No I'm telling the truth” 

He scoffs and a look of confusion takes over his face. While he points behind him he says “I got a whole son mama”  he begins walking closer 

You nod “Yes you do that doesn't mean we are ready for another child in our relationship. Marcus’s schedule is busy pick him up here drop him off there practice and games play dates he's a handful and I do not mind doing all those things let me just stress I love doing all of this for Marcus but having another child will just add a layer of complexity that I believe we are not ready for” 

He was now at arms length “Based off of what?” 

Your heart is racing trying to make sure you don’t say anything that would trigger a fight “Based off…” You pause 

“Based off of what Y/N?”  he knows what you're going to say

You look at him “Based on your availability with the many "projects" you are currently overseeing” 

He sucks his teeth “Y/N” 

“I just don't think now is the best time Christopher” 

“Don't I get a say in this?” he points to himself 

“That's why we are discussing now” 

“But you already made the decision off some bullshit!” you take a step back seeing his anger simmering right below the surface. You take in a deep breath and prepare for whatever else he had to say “I can adjust whenever necessary” he argues 

You nod “I understand what you're saying I just think th…” 

He interrupts “So really it's you that's not ready and projecting that shit onto me” 

“I'm not projecting it onto you, I said we.” You argue back 

“I'm ready so who's left between us in that we?” 

“Christopher..”  he sucks his teeth again “Remember we had this discussion we discussed goals short and long term, how our future would look together and individually, we even agreed that right now having a child isn't the best, we went over how it would slow down your plan for expansion and profits. We agreed that I ha…” 

He interrupts again you moving closer and speaks in a stern voice “Stop” he commands he puts his hand on your stomach “Stop talking about this like we are discussing business.”  he rubs his thumb back and forth “we are talking about my baby, our baby” 

“I know that Christopher. But in order for you to meet” 

“Stop!” His jaws clench in anger, 

You open your mouth but refrain from speaking seeing the anger in his face

“I'm okay with slowing down, I want us to have a child together, this one and many more with you Y/N ” he speaks with conviction 

“Christopher.. I just” 

“Stop. Let me finish.” he sighs  “I know what I said but shit life happens I just cut my time at work in half for a month cuz of Marcus don't act like I won't do it for you” 

You go to object “yea but…” you pause to find the right way to say what you were thinking. Marcus was his child. It was different. You’re an adult, you don't believe that would be extended to you at least not as long as he did for Marcus. Let alone 9 months 

And it all clicks for him it wasnt that you were having his kid it's that you feared going through this alone “You won't be alone. I know I'm guilty of pushing you to the back burner but I've been working on it and it shows right?” 

“Yes that's true but” you still weren't convinced 

“But what mama? What is it? Cuz I'm all in doctors appointments, morning sickness, swollen feet, achy back, 4am cravings, pregnancy pillow I’m all in, you won't go through it alone I'll be there” he tries reassuring you 

You really want to believe him but it's hard he hasn't had the best track record of keeping promises. 

 “I will think about it” is all you can think to say 

He huffs in frustration “what else is there to think about Y/N?” 

“Many things Christopher you act like having a baby won't change everything” 

“And I'm telling you I will be here with you” he counters 

“And I appreciate that I just need to think about some things”

“So fuck everything I said you've made the decision you just trying to get my buy in?”

“No I haven't”

He scoffs again “You already scheduled the appointment what else is needed from me but to hold your hand while you go through with this bullshit”

“I’m..” you pause feeling yourself getting emotional “It's not set in stone Christopher. You've given me a lot to think about and I just need to process it all”

“End of week is in 3 days Y/N. If you already called and made the appointment you not bout to back out now.” he pauses  “When did you make the appointment?” 

“Last week..... when I found out” you mumble 

He scoffs “You couldn't have waited to talk to me first? Why did you even tell me?”

“I wanted to get your opinion” 

“Why?” 

“Because I value your opinion…” 

“Can't be you booked the appointment without even hearing what I got to say. And then you come home to drop good and then this bullshit news all at once and nothing I'm saying is swaying your decision. So why put me through this shit?!” 

“I'm sorry Christopher I just didn't want you to discover later”

“Whatever Y/N do what the fuck you wanna do cuz clearly you're the only one that matters in this relationship” with that he walks away 

You both don't say anything else to each other, the tension hangs in the air as the days tick by getting closer to your appointment. You want to continue to talk about it, but you say nothing. You need more reassurance but you feel guilty by how you handled the situation. 

You both don't even acknowledge each other as Friday approaches. He wakes up early and leaves. You get dressed and go to work. The day is a blur and if anyone asked you can’t tell them what fires you put out or what you worked on. When evening approaches you pull into the driveway of Abuela’s (Mariana’s) home. It was a get-together for one of the kids birthday in the family. You were late and Rio had been telling everyone that you weren't feeling well so it was a surprise to see you walk in. 

“Y/N you're here!” Nick greets 

“Hey!” you greet as you step into the room you see Rio in your peripheral vision but refrain from making direct contact. 

You make your rounds and join the ladies in the backyard this time the men are in charge of cooking.

“So Y/N how are you?” Mariana asks

Your body tenses up you knew Rio went to her for advice from time to time

“I'm good just work you know” you smile trying to fake it

“Life's treating you well? Anything coming up?” 

You feel like vomiting

You shake your head “No just work” 

She gave you a look he had gone to her, you were positive. Well this was it the end of your relationship as you knew it. If she sided with him why would she want her grandson staying with such a woman. 

You refrain from saying much feeling like everyone knew and when you were pulled into conversation you kept your answers short and brief. When the dinner is ready some women plate the food themselves while others were served by their partners. You fixed your plate, you were nauseous and also you were doing all that you could to avoid Rio. You were glad this was a casual celebration so seating is open and you sit with your back to him purposefully and pretend to be involved in an ongoing conversation between his relatives sitting in a circle. 

Nick sits by you and once again you tense up. He always had something up his sleeve “You and Rio got into it or something?”  he asks 

You roll your eyes “No”  you did your best to avoid whatever strange push and pull relationship they had 

“He hasn't even given you a kiss, when we know he can't go more than 30 minutes without showing you affection.” you remain silent and smile picking the dessert on your plate “come onnnn” he eggs you on “you can tell me we’re family” 

“It’s nothing Nick!”  you smile. 

“Well I'm here if you need me” he winks at you before leaving 

You never trusted him. You couldn't, you  have seen and heard too many shady situations caused by him.  

His scent lingers and it makes you feel even more nauseous and you do your best to make your way to the bathroom without raising concern from the group.

You barely have time to lock the door behind you before you vomit into the toilet bowl. 

You try your best at keeping quiet so no dry heaving or heavy breathing just liquidized food making noise as it makes impact with the water. When you're done you quickly spray the air freshener clean around the toilet, swish in some mouthwash you see in the cabinet and hurry out of the bathroom. 

“Oomph I'm sorry!”   Rhea says as you noth run into each other 

“Im so sorry Rhea” 

“Its okay wasn't paying attention to where I was going” 

You chuckle nervously “Me too” 

She rubs your arm “You okay? You look pale” 

“Yea yea just tired” 

“Oh yea get some rest this weekend. Marcus, Sean, and I are going to Florida!"

“Yea thats right, I remember” 

“Yea it should be fun! let me give Ezra this book” You nod and watch as she walks away 

When you return to the gathering you make it a point to leave first. It was getting late and you were tired. Your body was starting to crash from the high stress week and day.

You say your goodbyes with Mariana being the last person you hug 

“Congratulations sweetie, can't wait to meet my grandbaby”  she whispers. You look back at her shocked. “A woman knows come see me sometime next week”

“Si abuela” 

“Good drive home safe” and with that she walks away from you 

You get in the car in a daze. How would she have known were you showing that much? You begin your journey home. As soon as you get close to your home you see Rio calling you.  

You don't know why but this creates immediate panic in you he wouldn't be calling you unless he found out you didn't go through with the abortion. He calls again and you veer right and take the exit towards the freeway you aren't going home not now you need to calm down and all the emotions hit you like a ton of bricks so much so you pull over in a gas station to calm down. 

You're able to gather yourself quickly and make a quick stop at the local grocery store to pick up comfort snacks.Your heart sinks to see Rio's G- Wagon in the driveway. You cringe looking at the amount of time he had called you and texted. God why couldn’t you get it together. You scold yourself 

As suspected he was in the kitchen eyeing your every move. 

“Ignoring me now?”  You don't even want to say anything, you don't want to cry anymore

“No sorry I didn't hear my phone’s on silent." He wasn’t willing to argue about that now there were more pressing matters to discuss. He watches as you put the groceries away waiting for you to say something. 

“Abuela congratulated me on our new bundle of joy.” he finally speaks, realizing you weren’t going to say a thing. 

You nod “yup same” 

“You told her?” 

“No” 

“So you didn’t….” 

You shake your head “Nope I did not. Canceled on Thursday” 

He bites back a smile seeing how tense you still were but failing miserably 

“Talk to me mama we are a team remember”

“Uh yea” You take in a deep breath “I'm sorry. I didn’t handle this the right way. I should have. I panicked, I shouldn't have, I should have called you instead I got carried away in my head. I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. You matter to me your opinion matters. I thought I was making the right decision for us. I don’t want you to think I don’t care about you. I’m sorry Christopher”  

He nods smiling and placing his hands on your waist 

“Come here” he pulls you towards him but you tense up

You put your hands on his chest “Umm no I should go take a shower” worried that all you did was smell like vomit. 

“Nah that I wanna hold you and I want you to talk to me. Tell me what's bothering you. I'll be here for you all the way.”  The tears gather in your eyes threatening to roll down your face. “Tell me” He urges caressing your face

“What if I'm not a good mother?” you mumble

He pieces your words together “What if you’re..” he stops and looks at you confused “You’re so good with Marcus why would you think that?”

“Yea but he has you and Rhea, so if I mess up you guys are there to fix things. And I wanted to have an abortion how does that make me a good mother?” you wipe away the tears

“Shh” he shushes your worry wrapping his arms around you. You whimper feeling the migraine forming as tears roll down your eyes “Tranquilo mama”

“I’m a bad person” you comment

He chuckles “no you’re not, stop thinking that way”

“I am” you insist “What good person would do what I did?”

“Look at me” He tilts your head up 

You bit your lip and shook your head. Why did looking at him always make you cry more when you were upset?

“Please mama,” he begs. You do so and he sighs in relief “You’re not a bad person, a little crazy” he jokes “But you’re not a bad person you will be a great mother just like you have been to Marcus. I don’t want you to worry about this. I don’t want you stressing over this. I forgive you for how you handled this. I should have also understood where you were coming from so it's not all your fault okay?”  You nod “Nah I need to hear you say it”

“I’m sorry”

“You already apologized mama,” he chuckles “I forgive you  its not your fault, I need to hear you say it”

“It’s not my fault” 

He kisses your forehead and gives you a loving embrace and you two stand in silence for a while, his heartbeat calming you down. “How about I run a bath for both of us”

“Okay”

“Come on mama” 

“You know abuela just comes up to me and pinches my arm talkin’ ‘bout why didn’t I tell her you were pregnant” you giggle “that shit hurt” he speaks while you relax on him in the tub

“Sorry, she told me congratulations when I was leaving. I thought you had told her”

“Nah, man that's crazy how did she find out?”

“She said to me a woman knows”

“Is this like some ET shit like y’all get with your period?”

You laugh “no I don’t know how. maybe it comes with age?”

He chuckles “Well whatever it is I’m glad we have her Blessing” 

“Yea” 

“You book an appointment to the doctor yet?”

“Mhmm” you nod “in 2 weeks”

He kisses your shoulder “I’ll be there” 

“Do you want a boy or a girl?”

“I want a healthy baby, but if I had to pick, I want a baby girl”

“And if its a boy?”

He shrugs “Love them the same but that's why we got all the time in the world. You and I can keep trying till I get my princessa.”

You chuckle “no im not about to keep pushing out babies till you get a girl”

He groans playfully “why not?”

“Besides, what if it's all girls?”

“Then we keep trying till we get another principe” 

“Christopher” you pinch his thigh

He laughs “Oww! I’m joking. I’m joking” 

A comfortable silence takes over and once the bath is done you both lay in bed in each others arms. “Can’t wait to see you waddle around the house” You groan making him chuckle “You’ll fill out real nice mama”

“And you ruined the moment”

He laughs “I love you” he says kissing you 

“I love you too.”

[skzoologist]

Ok so I have another idea,

So bae is having a bad day and struggling with something, feeling insecure making him feel really stressed and down and he considers harming himself to cope with it thankfully one of the members notice him (Feeling in a minho or chan mood rn so if you could write it as them that would be amazing) and check up on him right before he was about to and stops, him comforting bae

P.S You don't have to write it if you aren't comfortable writing something like this. Ngl I dunno what came over me with this, maybe I am self projecting?

-🐿️

word count: ~2.1k

warnings: self-harm, self-deprecating thoughts

genre: heavy angst, hurt/comfort

a/n: I know I got another ask from a different follower a day ago, but this is just activating my own spidey senses, so this enjoys priority. Also I'm alright writing this, because it touches on a part of Bae's lore that I haven't revealed yet, so don't worry about that. But 🐿️ anon, my sweetie, if you ever really have these thoughts, talk to someone. Anyone. A friend, family, heck, even me or another online person! This isn't a long-term solution, but it can help tremendously. This goes for everyone too: if talking to me or requesting something like this helps, never hesitate to do so! Life is hard and we sometimes need some time and help to recuperate and get back to our feet. There's no shame in it.

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

As soon as Bae opened his eyes, he felt the air heavily pressing onto his skin, as if a weight was fused onto the upper layer. His limbs felt sluggish, as if his own blood and bones were cast out of pure steel and misery. The light that successfully seeped through the thick curtains felt too bright, earning a low hiss from the male.

Mornings after a migraine were always hard to bear.

The one he’d had the previous day was particularly harsh, rendering him useless as he’d been just carried away by his bandmates to the dorms in urgency. All schedules’s been cancelled for him immediately, Chan telling him how it was alright, how he should only ever focus on his own health.

It made his stomach churn.

Everyone was working themselves to the point of exhaustion every single day, yet here he was, laying in bed once again, causing inconvenience for everyone. He hated it with every fibre of his being, the feeling seeping deep inside and nestling there. 

Yet, Bae put a lock onto the gate this monstrous being hid behind, forcing his limbs to move, the motion cumbersome and difficult. What would have only taken him a few minutes now took ten or twenty, an obscuring fog settling over most of his mind. Nothing felt right, yet he powered through it, refusing to leave out another day of work. 

Not even Chan could stop him.

After his morning routine was done and his horribly pale skin was hidden behind makeup, he went out of his room at his own, slow pace, knowing fully well no one else was at the dorms anymore. They were all already at the company, busy with their solo schedules and practices. He himself had to be at a photoshoot in an hour, or at least according to his original, filled out schedule. His hyungs adamantly gave him not only yesterday off, but two other days as well, not leaving him any room for argument.

Little did they know he’d told his own manager to reschedule those two days amidst head-splitting pain and blurry vision. It was an arduous task, but he’d managed.

Once he was down in the lobby and ready to go, his driver was surprised, safe to say, the expression obvious as it sat out onto his face. But he’d been working with Bae for long years now, thus that was the only indication about the idol’s unexpected appearance. No words were exchanged, the two acknowledged the other with a respectful nod and off they were to their destination.

The drive wasn’t long, leaving Bae no time to sink into his thoughts as he watched the scenery fly by through the window. Even the weather was feeling down, the skies grey and melancholic. It felt as if in the next minute the clouds would start weeping, openly pouring their heart out in a silent farewell.

Once the car was parked, he slightly nodded at the driver who was looking back at him, opening the door and stepping out onto still dry pavement. His legs automatically took him into the company, something he was grateful for with his hazy mind. The only thoughts that were coherently formed in there were about his bandmates and how he wished he wouldn’t run into them accidentally. He really didn’t have the energy to hear what they had to say and berate him over not resting.

It seemed like his prayers were heard, nobody noticing him as he was silently walking through the halls, as if he was a ghost tied to them for eternity. The moment the staff saw him enter the room they bowed and greeted him, something he reciprocated silently with a bow of his own. 

He was soon whisked away to a chair, his makeup and hair professionally done. Even if the workers noticed the bags under his eyes or his unnaturally pale complexion, none of them acknowledged it, opting to instead silently work away with precise movements. 

The different array of powder snugly stuck to his skin, just enough to make him feel like the idol he was supposed to be, not a smidge more. The colours were vibrant, the exact opposite of what he felt like under the mask he’d put up, something that fit his idol self only. His bleached, white hair was gently clipped up, a few chosen strands taken out and purposefully left hanging down, framing his face elegantly. A glint caught his eye, the dangly earring in his left ear catching light and shining brightly.

The man who looked back at him in the mirror felt like someone else.

Tearing his gaze away, he let the stylists choose his outfit and got into position, everyone’s eyes on that stranger who he was supposed to be. With a cold gaze he did his job, perfectly executing everything that was expected of him. Even after the sixth outfit change, the final one, and endless photos taken over the course of hours, his expression remained unchanged, focus solely on the camera that was pointed directly at him.

The way back home felt like a blur to him. Stripped of the branded clothes and sheltering makeup on his face, he felt vulnerable, something those dark, swirling thoughts started taking advantage of. He tried to think of anything else, of food or even a favourite TV show.

None of it worked.

They all circled back to how he shouldn’t be skipping the group’s dance practice, how miserable he looked and how he felt nauseous, even though he hadn’t eaten anything all day. Horrendous scenarios played through his head, worsening with every passing second, each ending with him being forced to leave the group.

He really should cook something. If not for himself, then his bandmates, who no doubt would be hungry by the time they got back to the dorms.

But what if… What if they wouldn’t want to eat it? Why would they? After all, he was someone undeserving of their love, to be in the group, useless with a malfunctioning body. He wouldn’t be surprised if one of them finally would have had enough of his constant migraines and the hassle that always came with it, the constant darkness and hushed voices as he was carried away, unmoving.

He also didn’t have an amazingly unique voice like Felix, or dance moves like Minho. Hell, he didn’t even know how to produce music, like 3RACHA.

He was useless.

The knife in his hand glinted, surrounded by half-chopped vegetables. A thought ran through his head, one that would solve all his problems, permanently ending them.

Pale skin drew him in, dark veins peeking through. It felt inviting, as if it somehow grew a mouth itself and called the knife’s name, inescapably alluring.

“Bae?”

His eyes were drawn from the freshly drawn blood, only a few droplets escaping and coating the surface of the blade in a bittersweet vermillion colour. Chan just stood there, frozen, hand stopped midair, no doubt in the process of taking off his bag. Their eyes met, dull ones with pure panic, darting between the knife and Bae’s eyes, as if no matter how hard their owner tried, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

The thud of the bag was loud in the heavy silence, unsure footsteps soon following it.

Bae just watched as the older walked towards him, steps wobbly and out of their usual, steady rhythm. Shaking hands reached towards his own ones, gently prying them apart and away from the stained, sharp object.

An even shakier breath left Chan’s lips as he just stood there, still holding the other’s hands in his gentle hold, blood now painting his skin in small rivers. Their eyes couldn’t meet this time, no, the leader’s own gaze focused on their conjoined hands, expression hidden from the younger.

Not a sound could be heard as Bae was led towards the bathroom, Chan’s hands quietly working away on taking care of the fresh wound. Bae similarly didn’t say anything, not even hiss left his lips when the alcohol touched open skin, or when it was finally sealed off, left to heal in peace.

The two remained there for a while, one standing, the other sitting, until the silence was broken by quiet sniffles, the older’s lip wobbling and eyes shining with unshed tears.

“What were you thinking?” - his voice was a broken little thing, as if he himself got hurt by the knife instead of Bae.

The younger stayed silent, numb and unwilling to burden anyone with his worthless thoughts. He didn’t deserve being cared for like this, something the voices whispered to him relentlessly.

“Bae, why did you do it? Do you hate being with us this much?”

His head snapped up from where he was observing the tiles underneath his feet, wide eyes staring into Chan’s tear-filled ones. Those obsidian orbs were filled with sorrow, the usually bright nebulas now hidden in darkness. The sight alone broke something in Bae, as if he was pulled up onto the surface of an alaskan lake from its deep, imprisoning depths.

A sound left the younger’s lips, something that vaguely resembled a word, yet no one could tell. It was quiet, broken, much like the male himself. More soon followed its wake, finally donning the form of a word and adamantly denying Chan’s question with their sole existence. His head shook as tears finally fell down upon shaking hands, ones that were raised in a sad attempt of hiding away. Chan didn’t hesitate to hug the unravelling boy in front of him, his standing form easily engulfing Bae’s small, sitting one.

“Then why?” - the question was careful, as if a single wrong word could shatter Bae into irreparable pieces.

“I don’t feel worthy to be here.” - that was the simple answer he got.

The grip on the younger tightened impossibly, Chan’s form rigid and unbreathing. It prompted Bae to snake his hands further up, clinging onto the fabric there desperately, hold more secure on his hyung. His head was buried in Chan’s stomach, afraid to be seen like this.

“My moonlight, look at me.” - it was a gentle request, one that was accompanied by tender hands, holding onto tear-stained cheeks and leading them out of their hiding.

Thumbs softly swiped the droplets away from underneath dark, confused eyes.

“You’re one of the hardest working people I’ve ever met, and I’ve been in this demanding industry for longer than anyone should have. There’s a passionate fire burning inside you, one that you never let lose its intensity. Not only do you practise and work relentlessly, you also have amazing talent in everything you do. Your singing is wonderfully soft, perfectly harmonising with anyone you sing with. You know every single one of our dances to the point where if I were to start a song from any point, you would know what dance move goes with it. And you always look amazing, no matter what you wear or do. On top of all that, you never fail to help us or listen to our problems. Never once have you turned us away in all these years.”

Chan’s eyes held a soft light, a gentle smile dancing on his lips. It stole the breath out of Bae’s lungs, his eyes stinging as a fresh wave of tears started forming.

“You can ask any of us, we would only sing your praises. Because they’re true, baby. You might get migraines often, but then what? That doesn’t make you any less of us. You work hard enough already, a little rest won’t take away from that.”

He stopped for a moment, as if a fond memory appeared in front of his eyes.

“Did you know? I love the little snacks you sneak into my bag that I take to the studio with me. I also love the little notes you always give me with it and the silly little drawings on them. I’ve never thrown one out ever since you started giving them to me.”

The look on Chan’s face was entirely too fond, something that Bae couldn’t possibly look at for too long, lest his chest burst into loved pieces. No, hiding into the fabric of his hyung felt better, unwilling to think about the way the man’s lips curved up, dimples peeking through, or the way his eyes were just slightly crinkled, holding the warmth of a star itself even through those crystal droplets.

“You’re loved, Bae. Never forget that.”

[signedeclipse]

yayyy finally your request is open! may I request a prompt like, you wanna confess to them on valentine's day but accidentally already confessed to them, or you can watch this vid (https://www.tiktok.com/@punkgal_/video/7204905468186152197) with gyutaro and muzan, but you can add extra character if you want, and can it be in kimetsu academy au please? you can make muzan become our senior or same age friend! I really like your signed with love work, you write it so well and accurate with their character😭 thank you in advance!!!

Gyutaro

Gyutaro is not one to celebrate holidays which is why you pulled together a plan to ask him instead

The only trouble was how unpredictable he could be, and after almost three attempts gone wrong you were starting to realize having a large scale setup for it was pointless

The first time you had wrapped yourself like a present in his room, but, he stayed out late and by the time he got to you he thought you were being held hostage by someone

The second time you made a sign with lights and flower petals but he ended up grounded for a week for bullying first years

And the most recent attempt was something akin to today, except no candles this time because he accidentally caught his hair on fire when playing with the candles

So now you were searching through every hallway to find him and get him to meet up with you properly so you could ask

When you did, he was outside the school at his parking spot, polishing his motorcycle even after everyone had already gone home

"Gyu-kun! I have been looking everywhere for you!"

He only grunts in response and shrugs his shoulders

"When you are done come to my place so i can finally ask you to be my valentine! You are so hard headed sometimes...!" You were already stomping away down the sidewalk

Leaving the poor red-faced boy behind

Once he gets his motorcycle on he'll be chasing down the street to catch up to you and accept your confession

Muzan

The senior student was always punctual, working off of a strict schedule

So it was easy to predict the best time to stop him

As his self-proclaimed best friend, you knew him better than anyone else which was still very little

Between every class, he would pull out a book and read exactly twenty pages

But depending on the length and size of the font, the time it took varied

Luckily for you, you noticed this book was not typical novel size and had a larger font, which would give you a minute to cut in before the teacher showed up!

Of course you can't judge his punctuality when you could pay attention to such small details with ease

"Muzan-kun, are you available at 5 o'clock tonight to meet outside the school library?"

The second his book had been put down on the desk you asked sharply, having taken the seat next to him

"5:15 and I will be."

The boy only stared forwards at the chalkboard, but you knew he cared what he had to say by the fact he was holding onto the side of the next with a grip so hard his knuckles were going white

"I will be asking you to be my valentine, see you then!"

Right then the teacher walked in and you moved to sit across the class from him

He would lower his head so some of his hair falls in front of his eyes and use a hand to cover his mouth

Not because he's bored of the teacher talking, but because he wants to hide his shifty eyes and red cheeks

Of course you would confess like that, you were so stupid- and now he had to arrange to get some of your favourite flowers by next week

Authors Note - Thank you so much for those kind words! I am really happy my SIgned with Love series was enjoyed <3 Funnily enough I saw a tiktok once of that audio with Shinobu! I hope I captured what you were hoping for!

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Harry hosts Festivus

with a group of shades thanks to the resurrection stone. I have been working on this story for two years at this point, and I would love to finish it and post it for Dec. 23 (or sooner), but that hasn't worked out so far, so here's a couple snippets. Someday I'll complete it.

1.

He’ll head to the Burrow tomorrow evening to sleep over and spend Christmas with the Weasleys, but tonight – tonight is going to be something a little different. He’d heard of this thing from an American muggle program, Sane-fields or something, and now seems the perfect time to give it a whirl. As night falls, his nerves start to mount, and he may be a bit liberal with the spiked eggnog, the mulled wine, the fire whiskey… Point is, Harry’s smashed and maybe not in the best frame of mind to be making decisions. Not that he’ll let that stop him. So, with a tipsy flourish, he withdraws the Resurrection Stone from a pocket and turns it. And keeps turning it, until the room fills with the shades of all the people he wants here for this. “I got a lot of problems with you people,” Harry announces. “And now, you’re gonna hear about it.”

2. (But he's definitely not Voldemort...)

"Wait, what?" Harry says, flummoxed. "Why are you here?" The man gazes back evenly. "When the master calls, I cannot help but answer." "Shite, sorry about that." Harry winces.  "My schedule's hardly packed these days," he says dryly. "Though I wonder what you were thinking to draw this motley crew to you." "Well, I thought I was thinking of family," Harry says, dragging a hand through his hair and wobbling when he almost pulls himself off-balance. "..."  The assembled spirits look around at each other dubiously. The man's stare takes on an eerie intensity. Dumbledore's eyes begin to twinkle with tears. Harry only notices it’s gotten quieter. "...Conduct your little ritual," the man says, breaking eye contact to stare off into the fireplace. "Right then, let's get this show on the road!" Harry calls, walking back over to flop into his chair. With pride audible in his voice, Dumbledore says, “Harry, my boy, I’m so–”  And that’s as far as he gets. “Nope,” Harry says abruptly. “Nuh-uh, not a chance – not a peep out of you. This is my airing of grievances, which means you all have to listen to me. Especially you,” he adds, pointing a bit unsteadily at a mildly incensed Dumbledore. “Wh–” Dumbledore tries to speak again, only to quiet himself at Harry’s stern look. (Possibly aided by Sirius cracking his knuckles menacingly, though it’s hard to gauge how useful a beatdown would be against a ghost.) Frowning, Dumbledore gestures demonstratively at the man by the wall. “Him? He got to talk because I asked him a question.”

3.

Harry stares off into space for a moment before turning to Sirius and Remus. “Oi, Padfoot, Moony – level with me. Were you two ever, y’know, together?” Remus goes to answer but is stopped short when Sirius drapes a long arm around his shoulders and leans into him. “I’d love to satisfy your curiosity, Prongslet, but as the saying goes: what happens in animagus form, stays in animagus form,” he announces with a roguish wink.  It’s certainly something to watch mortified resignation take over Remus’ face by degrees before he simply buries it in his hands. Lily reaches over and pats him on the shoulder in long-suffering sympathy. Harry wishes he could offer the man a stiff drink. Around his horrified laughter, James chokes out, “That’s not a saying, Padfoot, you bloody slag!” “Well it should be! Like you wouldn’t’ve been up for a little adventure if Lils had been a doe,” Sirius says, elbowing a suddenly blushing, dazed-looking James in the ribs. “Yes, we were together!” Remus cuts in before Sirius can say anything else inflammatory. Alas, Harry thinks, not quickly enough. “And no, I don’t know what I was thinking.” “I reckon you were thinking I’ve got a great–” “–personality!” Remus interrupts loudly. Snape and Lily both turn to give Remus sceptical looks. Sirius looks gleeful. “Really, Moon? That’s what you’re going with?” James mutters. Remus throws his hands up in defeat. "Absolutely, my personality," Sirius says cheerfully. "Gotten a lot of compliments on my huge, throbbing personality over the years." "If you weren't already dead, I would smother you with a throw pillow." Remus sounds sincere.

[cookeybg]

Unexpected Cohabitation a JonDami fic

So....my chapters seem to be getting longer. I apologize, but I can't stop myself. Here's chapter 3!

Title: Unexpected Cohabitation

Main Characters: Jonathan Kent and Damian Wayne (some of the others show up too, the list is too long)

Eventual relationship: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne (my fave)

Stuff to know: No capes, reverse robins, high school AU, no smut, no Brucie Wayne, I know nothing about sports but it will show up, (aaand I think that's it, will add more if it comes up)

[In case you missed it Chapter 1 , Chapter 2]

Part 1 - Chapter 3

Jon had been distracted. The morning had started out hectic. First, Conner had taken forever to get ready and they had to run to the subway in order to get to school on time. Then, it had turned out that he had been placed in the wrong math class so he had to go into the school office and have it changed to proper math class, lucky his schedule stayed the same. Even luckier he now got to see Jay twice everyday, not including club activities every Monday. What had really been the cherry on top was when Jay stopped him after class to give his phone number. Lunch had been full of memes and texts and exasperated glances from Kathy. So, Jon was distracted when he stumbled on what felt like a tree root, his phone flying into the air and him landing on his hands and knees on the dirt floor. Miraculously his glasses stayed on his face if not a bit askew.

“Ow.” Someone groaned behind him. “Sorry!” Jon scrambled up and turned around. His wide blue eyes met glaring green ones. “Tt.” Damian tsked removing Jon’s phone from atop his head. “Do you make it a habit to throw your things at others?” “What? No!” Jon reached out snatching his phone back. “It was an accident!” Damian stared at him unimpressed passing him by without further comment. Jon could feel the heat of embarrassment heating his neck and face. He gripped his phone and cursed his decision on taking the short cut to his art class. He took a deep breath and continued on his way, Damian Wayne was long gone.

Walking into his art class Jon sat across the table from Jay, who waved and smiled at Jon when he entered but was now talking to the girl sitting next him. Jon kept his hands busy by pulling out his art pencils and sketch book he had bought the day before on his way home from school. Jon took discreet glances towards Jay wore a light blue hoodie, it made his pink hair standout and it made him look warm and fluffy. Jon wanted to hug him. “Hello everyone!” Ms. Worle clapped her hands, getting the whole class’s attention. “I have great news today! After many attempts, I was finally able to convince my favorite prodigy to become my T.A.” She clapped her hands again, looking at the door, her white curly hair bouncing in excitement. A loud chatter filled the classroom when Damian Wayne stepped through the door. He glanced around the room, his green gaze locked onto Jon’s blue. The embarrassment from early crawled up Jon’s neck and he quickly looked away. Damian, clearly deciding to pay him no further attention looked back at Ms. Worle, his expression softening. “Ms. Worle, I wouldn’t call myself a prodigy.” Damian said. “Nonsense, please humor this old lady.” Ms. Worle waved away Damian’s words. “You are certainly not old.” Jon wanted to gag, all Damian had to do was kiss the back of the teacher’s hand and the whole charade would be complete. Jon noticed that Jay sat up in interest a small “No way,” escaping his mouth. Jon bit his lip not liking the attention Jay was giving the Wayne. Jay’s sparkling eyes locked unto Jon a wide excited smile graced his face. Jon could feel heat burning his ears, Jay had such a cute smile.

“Jon!” Jay whispered excitedly, leaning forward as far as he could and covering the side of his mouth in an attempt at secrecy. “This is huge! Damian is going to our T.A.!” “I don’t see the big deal…” Jon frowned. Jay looked at him in surprised, he opened his mouth to say something else but Ms. Worle cut him off. “Now, Now, let’s all settle.” Ms. Worle’s face was slightly flushed. “You will be sketching the person sitting across from you and Damian will be assisting all those who need help.” “Try not to make my forehead too big.” Jay teased. “Try not to make my ears too big and we have a deal.” Laughed Jon. It was hard drawing Jay. Every time he looked up at him his heart would race and sometimes their eyes would meet and the butterflies in Jon’s stomach would take flight. It was distracting and difficult to not let his day dreams wander. It didn’t help that Jon wasn’t a very good artist to begin with and kept erasing the same eye he had been trying to draw for the last eight minutes. “Tt.” Jon’s shoulders tensed. When he turned, his nose nearly collided with a brown jaw. He took in a breath of surprise and caught a whiff of something sweet and earthy. Damian’s eyes locked onto his and Jon pulled away slightly, heart pounding in his chest. “May I?” Damian glanced at Jon’s hand. Jon nodded stiffly and watched as Damian’s elegant fingers plucked the pencil out of Jon’s grip, his fingers lightly grazing his. “You need guide lines on the face if you want to make everything symmetrical.” Damian spoke lowly. Jon had to lean in a bit to hear him clearly due to his loud classmates. Jon watched as Damian lightly drew a couple of horizontal lines and a vertical line down the middle. He then started drawing the outline for the second eye. “Drawing is just a series of shapes. Look at Jay’s eyes,” Damian gestured towards Jay and Jon could see that Jay was keenly paying attention to the both of them, “draw a circle for the iris and then fill in the detail like the curve of his eyelid and notice the delicate sweep of his brow.” Damian’s eyes were intense as he pointed out aspects of Jay’s face. Jay fidgeted but did not look away a blush darkened his cheeks and his lips were parted in awe. Jon gripped the table trying not to show any jealousy. “Nothing is a straight line; his soft wavy hair, his lips and the curve of his chin.” Damian paused waiting for Jon’s understanding. “Thanks.” Jon said sulkily. Damian placed the pencil on the sketchbook and moved on. Jon’s back and side prickled uncomfortably in Damian’s absence. Damian helped a couple of girls, they turned red and chattered amongst themselves after he left them. But Jon was paying attention to them, he watched Jay stare after Damian his face slightly red and his gaze determined. Did Jay like that jerk? Was Jon going to lose Jay to Damian? Jon grimaced and looked down at his sketch. Damian’s pencil marks looked light and easily erased. The parts he had drawn as guides looked better than the dark lines Jon had drawn and markedly improved the sketch itself. He sighed and did his best to follow what he had been taught.

After class Jay sidled next to Jon looking behind them at Damian who was speaking with Ms. Worle. He nudged Jon’s shoulder with his own as they left the classroom and Jon got butterflies in his tummy from Jay’s proximity. “You are so lucky that Damian helped you!” Jay tried to whisper but failed. “Yeah, I guess.” Jon tried not to roll his eyes. “He must be pretty good at drawing.” “Pretty good at-“ Jay laughed. “Jon. Damian has won awards for his art.” “So, he’s like actually talented?” Jon asked. Jay stared at him and stopped to type something on his phone. Once he found what he was looking for he showed Jon an article from the Gotham Gazette complete with a picture of a painting. Jay clicked on the picture so that Jon could see it zoomed in. “He won this prestigious art award last year and donated the winnings to charity, since you know, he doesn’t need the money.” Jon took the phone and looked at the painting. It displayed a desert oasis, the palm trees swaying in the breeze seemed to come to life. The sand colored buildings contrasted beautifully with a bright blue sky and green vegetation. In the distance a storm brewed making the birds take flight. The ground closer to the buildings was slightly tinted in a rust colored red. It was beautiful but it somehow made Jon feel as if danger was just around the corner despite the tranquility of the scene. The plaque next to the painting said it was an oil on canvas, titled “Home.” “But, he’s the baseball captain.” Jon said dumfounded. “He’s also been winning art awards since he was a kid. He’s won so many he’s probably lost count.” “How can he be good at so many things? Isn’t he the top of his grade?” “It’s awful, isn’t it?” Jay said smirking. “I can’t wait to interview him!” Jon watched as Jay waved and left him behind. What if his fears were true? If Jay didn’t like Damian now he certainly would after he interviewed him. Kathy was right, Jon needed to confess, ASAP!

I hope you enjoyed! The next chapter is going to be my favorite so I hope you're as excited as I am. XD

[beyoursbb]

€uro Tra$h Series: Dipped in $ugar (Part 1)

Pairing: Billy Butcher x You (Reader) || Rating: Explicit || Word Count: 2.4k || Link to Part 2 and Link to Part 3 - final (Timeline for this work is Season 1 btw)

Author’s Note: It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything! So please leave your feedback! Specifically I want to make sure I’m hitting the dialogue right cuz I can’t always imagine how words would sound or how to write them in Butcher’s accent LOL. Also if there’s anything I should add / eliminate / change next time (to make Butcher more accurate or the smut hotter haha) let me know. Thanks for your help and for taking the time to read!

Warnings: sugar daddy / daddy kink (the name daddy is used 4 times), age gap (implied, not specified), oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, swearing, kinda praise kink? (I’d write this better if I could lol)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, luv,” Billy greeted you as he opened the door. You smiled in return and as you stepped forward into his motel room, he immediately captured your lips into a quick, familiar kiss. “Sorry I haven’t been able to take you out proper in awhile.” 

You shrugged. Plenty of sugar daddies required discretion. “If it’s discreet that you need, I don’t judge. I’m happy to see you wherever.” 

He nodded gruffly, and handed you his phone. “Order whatever you want. Gona shower.” 

“You don’t want anything?” 

“I’ll eat something else later,” he smirked, giving you a once over that sent a jolt of excitement through you.

Billy Butcher was hardly your first sugar daddy. You were pretty accustomed to the lifestyle by now and its variations. You had met men from all walks of life who all wanted companionship and intimacy in different forms. Most enjoyed regularly scheduled dates with you a couple times per month, one took you on trips as a travel buddy, and others were more casual acquaintances, like Billy, who would randomly reach out whenever his schedule allowed, and you wouldn’t hear from him again until the next time.

Butcher re-emerged 10 minutes later from the bathroom, wearing only boxers with a towel draped around his neck. It appeared tiny against his broad shoulders and expansive chest. As you stared at his bare, freckled complexion under his taut muscular frame, a similar feeling from earlier electrified your core. You found yourself rising swiftly from your seat and striding toward him confidently. 

He sat on the edge of the bed as he saw you coming, his big hands enveloping your waist as soon as you stood in front of him between his legs. You rested your hands on the towel atop his shoulders and gazed down, studying his hazel eyes, the crinkles in his forehead, his damp hair slicked back in a way that made you consider how smoothly your fingers could run through it. 

“What you starin’ for? C’mere,” Billy grumbled. 

He jerked your body towards himself, one hand flying up to grab the back of your neck as his mouth latched onto the soft skin near your collarbone. You gasped at the contact and steadied yourself from being thrown off balance by gripping the towel and pulling him even closer. Billy sucked a mark into your flesh before you could register the moan that escaped your lips. 

He always made hasty work of you, even the first time after this arrangement had been agreed upon, when nerves were still fresh. Since then, there had been at least half a dozen dates you’ve met for some quick fun, each one well worth your time despite being planned on short notice. In the moment, you couldn’t put your finger on how he turned you on so fast with a simple touch or kiss in the same places you’d been touched and kissed by numerous men before him. 

All you knew was that every little thing he did and every little thing about him made you fucking insatiable. 

Maybe it was his body type — thick, the perfect proportion between dad bod and DILF. His strength was surprising — hidden under that trench coat he wore everywhere — but he wasn’t so ripped that his chest and stomach felt uncomfortably rigid when he was naked against you. His height alone gave you a rush whenever you saw how he towered over others, or barely fit through doorways, or otherwise made his physical presence more domineering than his personality already granted. You wanted nothing more than the overbearing weight of his body to pin you down under him with the sole intent of consuming all of you. 

Or maybe it was his casual cockiness — the fact that he knew you were putty in his hands, that he could do anything he wanted to you, and you would practically thank him. Of course, there was always a give and take of control in a sugar arrangement, but with Billy, you didn’t mind if all he did was take. The time and dedication it took you to curate a personality that was a delicate balance of being submissive enough to appease older men, yet assertive enough to remind them of your expectations to consistently hold their end of the deal, all went out the window when it came to Billy. The money was the last thing on your mind. One flash of that wicked smirk, and you melted on the spot. You instantly relinquished what little control, if any, you had over this affair.

Or it could be — and this was the biggest reason you thought accounted for your deep, inexplicable attraction to him — that you never knew when you’d get to see him again. It could be days, weeks, or months. He told you upfront his life was hectic, which you accepted, but the sporadic nature of your get-togethers was reminiscent of that toxic ex from college who you let in every time he rolled around suggesting you two could still work out to be great friends with benefits. You couldn't help the sex was intoxicating. Unlike with your ex though, you never had any regrets after Billy fucked you. Your friends would laugh at how badly he left you dickmatized: always satisfied and always craving more, never one without the other. Unsure of how long you’d have to go without, you savored the hours spent in between his legs under motel sheets, basking in his lustful gaze, absorbing the timbre of his thick accent that you’d most certainly replay over and over in your mind later. 

You tilted your head back to give Billy more room to maneuver as he continued a trail of kisses and bites up your neck, before switching to the other side. You ignored the itch of his scratchy beard to focus on his hands which were seemingly pinching you everywhere at once — your hips, ass, chest — yet still not touching where you needed him most. In an effort to not get lost in the haze of lust so soon, you threw off the towel from his shoulders and dove your face into his own neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses against it. The heat from the shower rose off Butcher’s skin and he smelled deliciously woodsy. 

“I missed you, Daddy,” you breathed on his collar bone.

Billy groaned, grabbing your chin with one hand and attacking your mouth in a rough, tongue-heavy kiss. He pulled back for a second — too soon for your liking — dragging out his teeth against your bottom lip. Still holding your face, his darkening pupils peered into yours. 

“Daddy missed you too.” 

The glint in his eyes made your breath hitch. It was subtle, but no reaction of yours eluded him. The corner of his mouth turned up just slightly, and you barely swallowed a gulp before you felt yourself being twisted and your back hit the bed with a low thump. Billy’s tongue once again slid between your lips in an instant while his fingers tangled in your hair. You linked your hands behind his neck and did the same, pushing your tongue into his mouth with the intent to taste every bit of him while tugging at his brown locks.

At this point, you were so thoroughly wet, you were certain you had soaked through your leggings, and possibly his underwear too. With Billy on top of you, his length was starting to peek through his boxers. Feeling his hard-on against your thigh suddenly reminded you who was getting paid to do what here. You hoped he didn't notice how your face grew hotter with embarrassment at how much his attention distracted you, while you dipped a hand between your bodies and freed his thick cock all the way. Billy groaned against your mouth and let you provide a few glorious pumps before pushing you back even farther onto the bed covers and pulling up the waistband of his underwear. 

He answered your surprised expression with a hungry look. “I want to taste you first.”

You nodded and sighed in anticipation as he yanked down your leggings and panties, but instead of taking them all the way off, he left them bunched around your ankles, and ducked his head in between your legs, raising your knees onto his shoulders so he was fully trapped under you. His hands caressed your bare thighs, easing them open wider. He dipped his head down to suck on your clit before licking a stripe down and back up your pussy. 

You watched him keenly as he worked his tongue through your folds, his eyes meeting yours every so often to gauge your response. His hazel irises were stunningly gorgeous this close up, and gentle — more of a calming green tone than an impatient gray. He always looked like he genuinely enjoyed pleasuring you. Although you assumed you were far from the only woman in his life, it didn’t matter right now. With his tongue working magic circling around your clit and his low moans signaling he was relishing lapping up your juices, you allowed yourself to feel special being the current focus of his admiration. You closed your eyes now and ran your hands through his hair, concentrating on the sensations building in your core.

Once Billy got you rising, there were only two scenarios of what would happen next: he’d either, more commonly, string you out until you were scream-begging for release, or if he was feeling unusually nice, like tonight, he’d waste no time in finishing you off. So you hummed your approval when you felt a finger prod your entrance, and eagerly bucked your hips into his face when a second digit promptly followed. 

“That’s it, luv,” Billy said as he stroked your inner walls, slowly at first, then picking up the pace as your grip on his hair tightened and your ankles twisted across further behind his neck to hold him in place. Between his mouth swirling more kisses along your sensitive bud and his steady finger-fucking, he was utterly devouring you. “You’re so fucking delicious.”

Your breathing quickened. “Fuck, don’t stop, please.”

Billy knew you were reaching your limit for physical stimulation, and that his words would bring you all the rest of the way to the edge. 

“You look so fuckin’ hot right now, cunt dripping for me.” Billy paused his movement, causing you to open your eyes in time to catch him sucking your wetness clean off his fingers before plunging them into you once more and immediately curling to find that sweet spot that drove you insane. 

“Please,” you whimpered, “I’m so close.” The tidal wave threatening to crash that was your nearing orgasm continued to grow in the pit of your stomach. 

“Then come, darlin’, let me feel you come hard on my fingers. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous when you do.”

With his free hand, Billy reached up to fondle your chest under your shirt, his warm palm enveloping your breast, thumb tweaking your nipple. You arched your back into his touch, craving him still to be impossibly closer as you moaned his name. 

“So fucking tight, you know this pussy’s my favorite.”

With his final praise, your body convulsed, your walls squeezing tightly around his fingers, but Billy didn’t let up for a second. 

“Fuck—” you gasped. “Daddy—”

You didn’t even recognize the noises that spilled out of you, nor were you able to hear more of his flattery as your orgasm wracked through your senses, multiple mini waves washing over you until they finally tapered off. You opened your eyes that had been sealed shut to find Butcher grinning smugly, licking his lips. 

“Feel good, luv?” he asked, knowing you had no words nor energy to adequately express your satisfaction; all you could do was nod as you came down from your high. 

Billy started to rearrange your bodies, releasing himself from your tangled legs to undress you completely in preparation for your second round, but stopped at the sound of his phone vibrating on the table with several texts. You saw a thought flash across his face as he debated checking it for a split second, but when it started ringing, he stalked over, looking disgruntled. 

“This better be fuckin’ rich if you’re bothering me right now,” he answered.

Butcher was turned away from you as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the call, but you thought you saw his shoulder muscles tense ever so slightly before his next reply.

“Alrite, for fuck’s sake, calm down. Be there in 15 minutes,” he responded, then ended the call. 

“Work?” you asked, not that you had any idea what his job was anyways. It was a bit of an unspoken rule to not discuss what made a sugar daddy in the first place. They tended to be private with that information. You usually assumed they were high on the corporate ladder or an investor in some big technology company, though Billy had a pretty distinct appearance from that type of man, with his numerous Hawaiian print shirts. You were curious what he did, but never crossed that boundary to inquire. 

He grunted an affirmative. “If I’m not back in an hour, go ahead and leave,” he said, nodding towards the envelope stuffed with cash on the nightstand. “Don’t want to keep you waiting.” 

He threw on jeans and a plain black sweater that hugged his arms, instead of his signature outfit. You fixed your clothes as well, then repositioned yourself against the pillows, fiddling with the TV remote. Billy sat down on the edge next to you as he tied his shoes.

“But if I do come back and you’re here,” his voice was a low growl as he suddenly leaned forward to occupy your space. Your eyes locked with his. “I’m going to fuck that tight wet cunt of yours ‘til I fill you up with my cum.” His hand came up to gently caress your cheek. “You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” 

As much as he had just worn you out, the prospect of his dick doing the same was definitely something you looked forward to. You swallowed as you nodded. 

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes, Daddy,” you corrected yourself. 

“One hour,” he repeated, then was out the door before you could say anything more.