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meiieiri · 6 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 [gojo satoru]

synopsis: in every other universe and lifetime he has yet to lead, megumi will always cherish the painfully brief time he felt the warmth of a proper family and would have gladly referred to himself as the son of the strongest.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader | song inspo: chemtrails over the country club, scott street | visuals: megumi’s jacket

warnings: angst-ish, canon-compliant violence (mostly caused by our pookie wookie megumi who doesn’t tolerate scumbag bullies), mentions of bullying, and possible (bc i’m delulu) character death. | a/n: i just want megumi to have one last moment with his dad please, gege, i’m on my knees here. also hehe, get the title? ya’ll get it? someone please shove that arctic-haired freak to the NORTH! 🥹

Nobara Kugisaki is the classic definition of an Instagram girlie with a passion for fashion.

Honestly, she could appropriately appraise clothes without a second glance, and she could differentiate big fashion brands just by the fabric and silhouette alone even without a brand logo.

It happened on a Monday afternoon while she and Yuji were having a quick coffee in the lounge. Yuji is currently playing one of his Nintendo Switch MMORPG games that he bought from the mall last Saturday while Nobara was scrolling through her phone, swiping left as she watches her mutuals’ Instagram stories. The trio is incomplete today since Megumi mentioned he’ll be running some errands with you and Satoru today.

After positively getting envious of Mei Mei’s supposed extravagant shopping trip in Ginza today, Kugisaki promptly mutes any stories from her for a full twenty four hours. Then, as she swipes left yet again, she nearly drops her phone on the ground which would pretty much set her off on a rampage because she just got its LCD screen fixed. But luckily, she holds onto it.

“Fushiguro has an Instagram account?!”

Yuji himself hits pause on the game he’s playing and leans over the table to see what Kugisaki is talking about. No way. Fushiguro? That sulky, couldn’t-be-bothered-to-care-but-I-actually-do-care embodiment of teenage angst having an Instagram handle? What would he even post on there?

Their questions are answered as Fushiguro’s feed pops up, and it’s filled with his pictures, but that’s not the issue. The two dunderheads didn’t seem to mind that in every photo, Megumi looked like a magazine cover boy, what caught their attention is the apparel he’s wearing.

“What the hell?! He’s wearing Arc’teryx?” Kugisaki couldn’t believe it. She zooms in on the candid shot of Megumi in what looks to be a ski resort and an audible gasp escapes her throat. No way. No frigging way. She does a quick image search and sure enough, she is redirected to Arc’teryx’s official website. See? Kugisaki never misses when it comes to fashion.

Yuji’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when he sees the price tag. “One thousand five hundred US dollars?!”

“And look at this! He’s literally tagged in Gojo and Y/N-sensei’s stories.”

Sure enough, the first they see is Satoru’s story which has a video of you picking out new clothes from the rack for Megumi to try on in the fitting room. You looked so cute and teeny tiny next to the teenager and Kugisaki giggles at the thought you walking around with two literal giants in the mall, one of them being your ward and the other, your arctic-haired husband of three years.

“There’s another one!” Itadori says excitedly. The next is a story you took, it’s a photo of Megumi and Gojo, their backs turned and their hands fully occupied by shopping bags, seemingly unaware of the camera. In the photo, they’re checking out new sneakers in Onitsuka Tiger’s storefront window. In a flash, Kugisaki switches off her phone, and immediately begins to head out the door. “Hey, where’re you going?”

Nobara knows that particular galleria, it should be in Tokyo Midtown. “Out, maybe I could borrow Gojo-sensei’s or Y/N-sensei’s credit card!”

“Are you sure you don’t need me to come along?”

Gojo chuckles under his breath. It’s honestly amusing how you won’t normally ask that, given his newfound title as the strongest Jujutsu sorcerer of this generation. A skirmish with a grade two cursed spirit? Pfft. That’s practically child’s play to your white-haired boyfriend. A rogue grade one cursed spirit that turned out to be a special grade? Maybe you’ll sneak some bandages in his bag just in case. Bottom line is you wholeheartedly trust Satoru will always make it out of a mission in one piece.

But here you were seemingly more tense than usual which is incomprehensible because today’s hardly dangerous mission is simple.

Track down the son of Toji Fushiguro.

“I think I got it, babe.” Satoru leans his head in through the rolled down car window to plant a kiss on your forehead. He pats your cheek lovingly, setting off in the direction of the house after taking one last confirmatory look at the address written down in the file sheet. “Well, let’s hope he’s nothing like his dad. Promise you’ll check on me if I don’t come back in an hour?” he teases.

You lightly slap his wrist. Sometimes you wonder how you fell in love with this literal man-child. He’s just so insufferable. Gorgeous in every way but insufferable all the same. “I’m pretty sure a six-year-old boy isn’t gonna try to murder you. If he does, let the record show that I sympathize with him completely.”

“You meanie!”

Sticking his tongue out at you when you blow him a kiss, he disappears into the small street adjacent to the neighborhood’s main road. Coming here, Satoru was uncharacteristically nervous. At the rest stop earlier, you watched the scene tensely from the convenience store window. For once, the obnoxiously loud sorcerer was quiet, hands in his uniform pockets, his cerulean orbs trained on the pavement, his foot kicking the asphalt pebbles on the ground, deep in thought.

To be honest, he had no obligation to make the journey here even if this entire affair was born from Toji Fushiguro’s final words that sounded almost like a desperate plea. “In two or three years, my kid will be sold off to the Zenin clan. Do whatever you will with that.” Satoru doesn’t know why — he’s not exactly the brightest when it comes to his interpersonal relationship skills so he could be wrong about this — but those twenty one words sounded more like four simple words: “Please save my son.”

And so, in a matter of only thirty minutes, you spot Satoru from afar, his hand protectively around his would have been assassin’s six-year-old son as they walk back to the car. Looks like the little boy had made his choice.

And you could see with the way Satoru protectively held Megumi back from crossing the street on a green light that he has also made his choice. Just thirty minutes ago, you were bantering with the version of Satoru that would be reluctant to go out of his way to help someone, now, you were face to face with someone new, someone who has been changed almost in a blink of an eye.

Stepping out of the car, you make your way towards the pair, a faint smile on your lips at the sight of Megumi’s tiny backpack slung over Satoru’s shoulder. Your boyfriend gently nudges Megumi over in your direction, introducing him and you crouch down to meet the little boy’s hesitant eyes. “Hi there, Megumi.” Your voice is as carefully gentle as a psalm, you didn’t want to overwhelm him more than he probably already is. “I’m Y/N.”

“Hello.”

“Ice cold,” Satoru whistles, ruffling Megumi’s hair. But you figured that would be the case. A quiet breath of laughter comes from Satoru when you smile endearingly at the kid’s curtness.

As the three of you settle into the backseat, you and Satoru share a fond look when Megumi who has acted all guarded and silent the entire ride home from Chiba begins to drift off to sleep, his arms hugging his backpack but he was dangerously teetering off the seat, so Satoru gently picks him up, allowing him to lay his tiny head on his shoulder.

“He’s gonna stick around with us for a long time, huh?” you whispered, rubbing Megumi’s back as he slept soundly in Satoru’s arms, the three of yu blissfully unaware of just how much your life has changed. You came to Chiba and there was only you and Satoru, now, you were three. And though you know Satoru doesn’t intend to step in as a guardian, you could tell he was slowly settling into the inevitability of that fact. This boy needed a new start, a home, and people to guide him as he grew.

“…Yeah, he will,” Satoru answers, his eyes filled with wonder himself. Earlier when he first met Megumi, he told him to become strong enough to keep up with him.

But for now, maybe this was enough.

For the most part, Megumi is a good kid.

He diligently helps you with the housework without needing to be told twice the same way he diligently trains under Gojo’s tutelage. He studies hard despite only being in primary school, and he’s well-mannered in every way…at least to you, the kid won’t pass up the opportunity to scowl and call Satoru a lanky freak when he’s being pestered by him.

Because he’s so young to be sleeping in Tokyo Jujutsu High’s dormitories, you and Satoru settled into the idea of renting an apartment near the campus premises. Since you and Satoru are eighteen years old now, it was high time that the two of you start growing into your roles as functional adults which means leasing an apartment, paying the bills, growing your careers and taking your relationship to the next level.

Of course, you and Satoru both piled in cash when it comes to raising Megumi. Satoru mostly shouldered rent, monthly utilities and Megumi’s tuition, being a rich guy like him, those were practically small beans to him. You, on the other hand, shouldered the groceries, Megumi’s clothes and other needs.

One day, while on your way to pick up Megumi, you pass by the trendy Daikanyama district due to a road closure leading to the Ebisu district where Megumi’s primary school is. The inconvenience is nothing short of serendipitous as you and your boyfriend really did need a quick breather and some time for yourselves.

“I feel like I’m gonna turn into a wine dad very soon. Who would have known enrolling a kid would be that tough?” Satoru huffs, his hand protectively around your waist as you walked past boutique after boutique. “Like how am I supposed to know what his blood type is for the school clinic record?”

You hummed, sneakily stealing a kiss from him to which he responds to by pulling you closer, and pretending to bite off your ear. “For all the school knew, Megumi is ours. That would explain why they felt a little icky towards us when they saw how young we are back in that parent-teacher meeting.”

“Mmph, fair point. A cute son will come from a handsome father after all—“

“—Oh please. You’re okay at best.”

“You didn’t say that last night when I had you all folde—“

“—Please do not finish that sentence in public.”

Digressing, Satoru sighs, planting a contrite kiss on your warm cheek as the two of you leisurely walk down the picturesque lane of Tokyo’s very own version of Soho. Once you reach the main road, a certain outerwear apparel store catches your eye. You stop in front of the store window, looking curiously at the displayed winter items. “Megumi’s birthday is coming up soon, no? We should get him something nice.”

“Hmm? Oh right, the 22nd is coming up,” Satoru hums thoughtfully, leading you inside the store. There, the two of you split up to look for a nice gift for Megumi. There, he is approached by a staff member who asks if he’s looking for anything in particular. Satoru clears his throat, nodding. “I’m looking to buy a gift for my son.”

Somehow, you heard that from across the store and you shoot Satoru an amused look when he refers to Megumi as ‘his son’.

“Right, and how old might he be? We have a batch of new arrivals that came in today. They’re perfect for kids aged four and above.” At that, you rejoin Satoru and the sales staff leads you to check out the items at the front of the store. You and Satoru sort through the rack and find one that the two of you agree on: a fleece two-toned gravel winter jacket.

After paying for it, the two of you rush to get to Ebisu elementary school. Making your way to the gate, Megumi instantly spots you and Satoru, the latter being very difficult to miss since he pretty much towered over everyone else.

“Hi, kid, d’you have fun today?” you crouch down to give Megumi a hug. Between you and Satoru, you were the more clingy one towards Megumi, there’s hardly any hesitation in your heart when you pull him in for a warm embrace or carry him in your arms. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind one bit, but if Satoru did any of the those things to him, he’ll probably headbut him.

“It was fine,” Megumi says shyly once you pull away. “Oh and I got a hundred on the math homework you helped me with.”

“You did?” you smiled. “I’m so proud of you, Megumi.” Satoru smiles, going to ruffle Megumi’s hair only for the little boy to duck away from his hand and hide behind you.

Chuckling at the kid’s antics, Satoru concedes, putting up his free hand in surrender while his other one held onto the gift bag you got. Megumi reads the name of the store: “The North Face”. Following Megumi’s gaze, Satoru grins, handing Megumi the bag. “Here, we got you something. Call it an advanced birthday gift.”

Megumi’s expression screamed: “You didn’t have to.” but you don’t miss the look of surprise and gratitude that shined through his features. You gently nudge him to open it and his breath hitches in his throat when he sees the gift you got him — the first gift he’s ever received.

“Happy birthday, Megumi,” you and Satoru greet the little boy, with Satoru helping Megumi to try it on.

That was the first time Megumi initiated a heartfelt hug and the first time he ever included Satoru, his little arms trying their hardest to include the two of you, so you decide to help him out, and your and Satoru’s arms engulf the little one.

“Thank you.”

“I don’t know what happened, but I’m headed there now. Alright, see you soon. I love you.”

Everything happened so quickly. One minute you were in Tokyo Jujutsu High’s teacher lounge organizing the first years’ missions for the next few days when you receive a call from Ebisu elementary school, informing you that Megumi got into a horrible fight and was now in the school clinic ready to be picked up, the next you were dashing out the door hurrying over to the school with your heart pounding in your chest.

There, you are the quintessential picture of a frazzled mother looking for her son in the school clinic.

“Y/N!”

“Megumi,” you breathed, your eyebrows knitting together in worry. Gathering him into your arms, you sit on the tiny hospital bed. “What happened? They said you got into a fight? And where’s your jacket?” He was wearing the jacket you got for him this morning when you and Satoru dropped him off, actually, he’s been wearing it a lot, indicating it’s one of, if not his favorite jacket.

Before Megumi could even speak, it looks like the kid that he got into a tussle with had already tattled on him to his mother and now said mother is furiously berating you and Megumi, not caring if anyone else in the clinic could overhear the scandalous remarks she’s throwing your way.

“I want full disciplinary action against this boy!” the middle aged woman all but screeches to the school’s principal, pointing an accusatory finger at Megumi who doesn’t flinch but you hear him sniffle. He’s never been yelled at like that before.

“Ma’am, please, let’s settle this like two rational adults—“

“—Oh I will, I can’t say the same about you! Are you not the least bit ashamed that you couldn’t teach your son good morals?” She then theatrically goes to place her hands on her son’s shoulders. And you have to be honest, with that bruised lip of his alongside his bleeding nose, Megumi had done some serious damage to the boy.

“I — Megumi is a good kid, not once, have we ever seen him hit someone for no reason—“

“—So you’re saying it’s my son’s fault yours is emotionally unstable? This boy doesn’t need a good talking to, what he needs is psychological intervention!”

“Alright, can everyone just please calm down?” The principal, too, seems visibly uncomfortable with the vile words the other parent was spewing at you like machine gun fire. “We’re all here to fix the problem, not make it worse.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you could tell this conversation has reached an impasse. Clearly, there’s no way you could reach a mutual understanding of what should be done to resolve the issue.

The older woman looks at you in disdain, grumbling under her breath at the humiliation of being scolded, “What should I even expect from an irresponsible woman who got knocked up before she was even an adult?”

“Don’t you dare talk about my wife or my son that way.”

Megumi looks up, tears in his eyes when Satoru strides in, his normally shining blue eyes dark with a fury that cannot be quelled. You can’t even feel the butterflies that went wild in your stomach when he accidentally referred to you as ‘his wife’ without so much as a stutter because you’re honestly this close to chewing the vile woman out. It didn’t matter if she insulted you, but if she does so much as insult and make your boy cry, you and Satoru will give the weasel a matching patch on her scalp where there should have been hair had you not ripped it out.

But now was not the time to prove her right.

People have always judged you and Satoru for being acting parents at such a young age, often giving you rude stares when you’re out and about doing the most menial of things like shopping at the supermarket or spending some time in the kōen, people found your current situation disgusting, borderline immoral, which is why you initially had trouble looking for an elementary school that would properly entertain you, Satoru and Megumi and not dismiss you three as a bunch of kids playing house.

“Satoru…” you rub your boyfriend’s arm soothingly.

“Babe, she insulted you and ‘Gumi,” Satoru whispers sadly. “I can’t just let her do that.”

All of a sudden, Megumi’s voice cuts through the tension in the room. “Daisuke was being mean. He ruined Hana-chan’s project and made her cry.” At that, the kid named Daisuke bites his lip, his skin turning pallid at the revelation. “And when I told him to apologize, he and Kaito…” Megumi whimpers, trailing off. He averts his gaze from your and Satoru’s, feeling guilty.

And right then and there, the story becomes even clearer when an unexpected witness comes to Megumi’s defense.

“Megumi-kun? We found your jacket, it’s not too damaged, but you may want to have your mama and papa wash it when you get home.” The school nurse walks in and hands you the ruined jacket, it had been cut all over but since it’s fleece, the damage isn’t too bad, not only that, it had crayon marks all over it and it smelled of the dumpster.

“…Daisuke and Kaito ruined my jacket and I punched him,” Megumi sniffles. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t apologizing for punching Daisuke, that much you could tell, he was apologizing to you and Gojo for supposedly not taking care of the gift you two got him just last week.

The vile mother scoffs at your son’s apology. “Save your breath, you little liar—“

“—He wasn’t talking to you,” Satoru glares at the woman, effectively shutting her up. “Come on, we’re going home.” With that, Satoru, being careful with him given his sprained wrist, carries Megumi out the clinic. You offer the principal a polite nod, indicating that you’ll cooperate with any sanction she seems fit for Megumi, Kaito and Daisuke, before following Satoru and Megumi to the parking lot. A melancholic smile appears on your lips when you hear Satoru reassuring Megumi that you’ll just wash and mend the jacket once you get home to which, Megumi only buries his face in the crook of his father figure’s neck.

If there is one good thing that happened today, it’s the fact that you proved to yourself and to each other that, no one in this world is allowed to hurt or insult your family.

Satoru wakes up to an empty bed and he doesn’t pretend to wonder where you are. He stays like that for a full minute, simply staring at the ceiling while your side of the bed slowly loses its warmth. He knows you’re hurting, and he knows just how much this entire ordeal has taken from you. First, you had to deal with him being sealed in the Prison Realm, now this…

You really just couldn’t catch a break, could you?

Slowly, Satoru gets up and pads across the hallway, entering a painfully familiar room. The owner of the room has only since recently moved out, but for ten years, this room is one he normally frequented with you, whether it be on Christmas mornings to greet the little prince that occupied such a special place in your heart or on nights when the three of you just simply needed to hold each other, searching for comfort, while you slept.

The door creaks open and Satoru’s eyes well up with tears, his heart plagued by the same emotional turmoil that was haunting you day in and day out. “I just want our boy to come home…I want our son back,” you cried as you held the jacket Megumi had outgrown, the same one he wore almost everyday that winter when he first came to live with you and Satoru.

Instantly, Satoru sits next to you on Megumi’s bed, hushing your cries, kissing away each agonizing tear that slipped from the confines of your sorrowful orbs.

“He must be so scared,” you sniffled, picturing Megumi in the darkest crevices of Sukuna’s soul, trapped and alone. “I don’t even know if he’s alright, if he’s even slept at all or if he’s being tormented by Sukuna day in and day out. What if he’s in pain? What if he’s cold?” you sobbed into your husband’s chest, your cries growing more desperate with each hour Megumi isn’t home safe.

“Shh, shh…I know, sweetheart…I’ll get him back, I promise I’ll bring him home.”

Or he’ll die trying.

Somewhere in the void, Megumi Fushiguro is in a state of catatonic stasis. Is this what limbo feels like? He just wants to sleep, to give in and let Sukuna’s soul consume him.

It’s so cold…so…cold.

No! He can’t give up, more than his desire to tap out and just live and let die…he wants to go home where he belongs.

You and Satoru must be so worried about him and he was worried too, what if something had happened out there while he was here? What if…something happened to the two of you when he hasn’t even done a thing to thank you both for all the love you’ve given him throughout these years? So with his last inch of consciousness remaining, he spends it on a silent plea.

“Mom…dad…please come find me.”

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musubi-sama · 3 months

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Shopping with Kento

A happy little shopping trip with your dear husband and some suggestive banter.

Walking along the covered sidewalk, you and Kento peek into stores and eye up the products. Stores filled with chopsticks, kitchen apparel, knives, plates, industrial-sized cooking vessels.

Ah, this looks promising! Pulling your husband into a cramped and densely-packed store filled with long, tall shelves filled with all manner of kitchen utensils and wares.

Quickly losing Kento as you slipped past patrons, you are caught up examining a collection of chopstick rests. You reach for a pair of adorable dinosaurs, a wooden triceratops and a coordinating brachiosaurus.

SLAP

A surprise slap hits your ass and you let out a muffled moan, dropping the mini dinosaurs as you clasp a hand on your mouth. Furiously looking around, you snap your head and spot Kento with a small smirk on his face.

“May I help you?” you ask, feeling a warm flush through your ears.

“Just testing out the wares,” he looks over your shoulder at the dinosaurs. “I’d like to get a new spatula and multi-taksers are a far superior choice.”

“Multi-tasking?”

“Those are adorable, pick out two you like. I’m going to look downstairs.”

Kento turns on his heel and walks off. You’re left in a haze and confusion. While you’re no stranger to cooking up new fun in the kitchen, you’ve kept kitchenware out of the equation thus far.

Grabbing the dinosaurs and heading downstairs, you spot Kento looking at a lovely collection of white and blue plates.

“Wouldn’t I make a better plate than that?” You stand up on your tippy toes and whisper in his ear.

“Don’t tempt me,” he takes a deep breath and slowly, deliberately, gently places the plate in his hands back on the stack.

You stand back down on your heels, hands running down Kento’s wide back and tracing the edges of his harness. Feeling the tense muscles around the soft leather, your mind wanders to what his back would look like wrapped in just the straps of an apron. Surveying the shelves nearby, you spot a rack filled with a rainbow of apron choices.

“What do you think?” you hold up a frilly green and orange affair. Kento starts to make his way over to you.

“If that’s what you want,” he gives in his most non-committal tone, nose wrinkled.

“Hm, how about this one?” you hold up a yellow and black patterned option.

“It’s a bit full-coverage, don’t you think?”

“Who do you think I’m shopping for?” you tilt your head as you hold it up to his chest for a quick guauge of sizing. Pleased with your choice, you sling it over your arm and start walking off to the register, happy with the items you’ve chosen.

Back outside, your purchases on one arm, the other wrapped around Kento’s arm as you continue wallking down the crowded streets in Kappabashi. Falling into a lock-step together, you can smell a light whiff of his gentle cologne. One of your favorite scents. You steal a glance upward at his stong jaw, unable to see exacltly where his eyes were pointed due to the dark lenses of his glasses.

“Let’s cross here, I think Kama Asa is just over there,” Kento points at a shop a bit further down the road.

“We can stop in every shop if that’s what you want, love,” you squeeze his arm as you both come to a stop at the crosswalk waiting for the light to change.

Entering the store, you see a few neat tables of shiny pots and pans. Fry pans and woks of varying sizes, shiny sauce pan…bowls? Why are they missing handles? You slip over to the display to inspect the wares and figure out how you would use a saucepan without a handle.

Meanwhile, your husband is standing at a long display of frying pans, eyeing up one with a dark sheen and a long handle. He’s speaking with a store worker who slips away after giving Kento a quick bow. He makes his way over to you, placing a small kiss on your temple.

“I found a great frying pan, it’ll arrive in two months. Hand-made in Kanagawa prefecture,” Kento is giddy as he explains the details of his new pan to you. While you enjoy cooking, Kento loves it and is the primary chef in the house. He not-so-secretly loves looking for new kitchen hardware, trying to find the elusive perfect utensils and tools.

“Yeah? And then what?” you wink and bite your lip lightly.

“I-what? And then I season it and make you fried eggs. What is going through your head?”

Your smile starts to fall and a light blush washes over your face. But then you hear a warm chuckle from your husband as he places his hand on your lower back.

“I’m not going to turn a frying pan into something sexual, unless you’re really into that old Atari game,” he continues at a whisper, mostly to himself. “Besides, I think it would hurt, and not in a pleasurable way, first and foremost.”

You shake your head as you get back to examining the handle-less pots.

“Well that’s clever. Using a speculum to grip a pot,” Kento reaches out to a metal gadget you were staring at.

“Excuse me?” you’re incredulous the word speculum just fell from Kento’s mouth. Sure, he’d knowledgeable about anything you’ve ever asked him of, and this entire outing has been nothing but hornily-charged banter and innuendo. But speculum?

“Surely you see it. Are you into doc-ow!” you cut off your husband with a light jab to the side and an exasperated sigh. The sigh is mostly filled with the contentment that he’d never say this around yours or his friends. Content that he can open himself with you to let all the weir

“Not at all! Let’s get on to the next place, I’m starting to get hungry.”

Back out on the street, you both slip into a shop dedicated to all things coffee gear. And you walk out with the receipt for a new syphon brewer to be shipped directly to your house.

You attempt a poorly-constructed joke about syphoning Kento however it falls flat. But the laughs still flow.

"An admirable attempt, but next time I'll just take a sip of your sweet nectar," and again, your husband causes you to gasp on lost words, feeling a twinge of arousal grow.

Kento rounds the corner and spots the shop he’s been looking for during this entire excursion. A knife shop to get his heirloom cleaver cleaned and inspected. He carefully pulls it from his bag in a protective case and box. The shop owner immediately recognizes the age and craftsmanship and he promises to treat it carefully. He asks you both to return in three hours.

“Let’s get lunch while we wait. What are you in the mood for?” Kento asks as you exit the shop.

You steer the two of you into the nearest hourly hotel.

“Kento, which bag has the spatula?”

Suddenly lunch can wait.

#jen の stories #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x you #nanami fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #suggestive kento #suggestive nanami #suggestive nanami kento #inappropriate use of kitchen gadgets

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jaiden-zhou · 11 months

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(1) casual iso <3

contents: headcanons, reader is a uniqlo employee for plot purposes

not a writer but,, iso is so.. sigh, imagine this reserved uniqlo wearing hitman acting like an absolute puppy for you. yeah this is self indulgent and yeah maybe its based off of my experiences but hey, content.. its long.. i.. the things this man does to me

part 2, part 3

iso whose closet is practically all uniqlo apparel, from core basics to limited exclusive collabs, anything else is like expensive tech wear/street style clothes, he likes his quality

iso who always grabs heavy oolong milk tea with tapioca pearls, a classic predictable drink (his friends call him basic for it, but he doesn't mind), every afternoon he gets the chance to

iso who ends up being an employee there with how much he visits, the owners are a chinese elderly couple who like gossiping with him in mandarin (he has fun listening to their stories and such)

iso who likes having music playing of his own whether it be from his headphones or speakers, even at work his music is playing loud enough for only him to hear from his headset hanging around his neck

iso who works evening shifts part-time and gains a lot of eyes from admirers where he gets at least three numbers given to him a month like "you're really cute, text me <3 (XXX) XXX-XXXX"

iso who's never interested, none of them catch his eyes like how he catches theirs, and ends up tossing whatever number scribbled onto a receipt away

iso who goes to uniqlo on his day off for a collaboration launch consisting of outerwear jackets and trousers that match his style only to not find his size on the racks

iso who takes his time trying to comb through the racks, desperate to find it on his own and take it with him before giving up, pulling down his headphones, and reluctantly asking you

iso who, at a reasonable distance, looks over your shoulder as you look up the product listing with the desired size and color, hearing faint rap music playing through his headphones slung around his neck, finding that there should be three units left and listens in quietly when you radio your coworkers if there are any in the back before going to look for yourself

iso who waits patiently at the same spot for quite a while before you go jogging up to him with the jacket he has been wanting, the plastic and paper still wrapping it up signaling that it has been unprocessed and untouched

iso who still is patient with you with an expectant look, not the impatient kind, it's the anticipating excitement kind, as you're still a little out of breath from running around finding the item for him unwrapping and removing all the excess packaging and giving it to him with both hands, garbage tucked at your arm

iso who looks at your earnest expression, sweet eyes, and genuine smile and feels his breath hitch before taking the coat and doing a little head bow while muttering a quiet 'thanks'

iso who leaves an anonymous compliment to you, conveying his gratitude for going out of your way to find him a limited quantity jacket and sub-consciously thinks of your cute expression of when you gave it to him every time he throws it on

iso who was asked to pick up a morning shift, no one else could and so he decided to just wake up early enough and suck it up but boy does he not regret it

iso who opens up the shop for the first time ever and lo-and-behold, you waltz in as the first customer and immediately he recognizes you, and apparently so do the owners

iso who listens quietly as, whom he likes to call granny, greets you with a warm voice asking if you're ready to go to work

iso who once again patiently waits for you to walk up and order, finding out that you're also a regular here, always grabbing a drink before your long shift at the japanese clothing store he met you in

iso who's still a little quiet, shy even, when you greet him noting that you recognize him from a while ago, your friendly exterior giving him a fuzzy comforting feeling inside

iso who after making your drink, bids you goodbye and continues on (not before asking to switch to morning shifts.. for some reason hehe)

iso who starts seeing you most mornings before you work and then with some time, working up the courage (it was very hard, he was very nervous you just didn't see it) to ask you for your number, nothing romantic just being friendly, right?

iso who starts getting a little closer to you, learning what day and times you work, your hobbies, your favorite things, the music you listen to <3

iso who sometimes drops by your workplace to give you a drink or some food and simple yet subtly sweet encouragement that always seems to lift your spirits to push through the day

iso who even starts to see you near or at the end of your shift to take you home, you've worked long enough, and it's dark out.. :(

iso who likes to ensure your safety by accompanying you home, his friends like to say (tease) that it gives him an excuse to see you more. it's dangerous out at night, what are they talking about? nonsense. (denial is a river in egypt)

iso who as time goes by, slowly craves your presence a little more than he'd like to admit, you're always on his mind and he often flusters himself with his thoughts of you, his cheeks donning a light-pink blush. maybe his friends are onto something.. ugh

yeah i'm definitely writing more iso content hehe

------

"don't have to take me home every time, zhao yuuuu." you whined next to him. "i've done it before and i can do it again."

you only get a short scoff in return, iso's hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

"it's dark, you're more at risk when you're alone." iso states matter-of-fact. his headphones at his neck with no music playing. "you know this too, so you shouldn't be complaining."

"yeah but," you pause for a moment. "i don't want you to have to make the trip each time to pick me up.."

iso takes in your dejected tone, his eyes soften.

"and i don't want you being in potential danger where i could've been there to deter it." iso chides softly. "please, for my peace of mind.."

"whatever you say," you comply, your shoulder bumping into him jokingly as you share a quiet laugh. "thanks, yu. it means a lot."

"always," he replies, a certain warmth sets in when he hears you say his nickname.

#iso x reader #iso fluff #iso valorant #valorant iso #valorant #valorant x reader #valorant protocol #gosh i wanna kiss his face all over #zhou’s daydreams

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greensagephase · 1 year

Text

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 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

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thesoftboiledegg · 4 months

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I went to the smaller mall a couple of weeks ago. The head shop didn't have new Rick and Morty merchandise, but the employee gave me a free snack: crunchy biscuits in chocolate and cream!

Nothing in Rue 21, Hot Topic or the nerdy store, either. I was starting to lose hope until I spotted a new holographic sign in Spencer's. Seasons 1-3 still dominate merchandise, but we're slowly catching up to season six.

Marshall's also had a pair of psychedelic boxers.

That same day, I planned to visit another head shop in the area. Unfortunately, I didn't know that a car cruise was happening on the same street, so I ended up getting stuck in nightmare traffic until I turned around and went home.

The new Tesla location was also open and showing off their vehicles. Cybertrucks are uglier in person.

A week later, I decided to give the head shop another shot. This time, the road was clear. They had a couple of items:

Initially, I passed over the coloring book, thinking it was the same book that I photographed a while back. But I opened the book and found new illustrations from seasons 4-6, including some of my favorite scenes and episodes!

Yes, I like the stupid slut dragon episode.

Anyway, this weekend brought a shock: RUE 21 IS CLOSING! 😭 OK, I wasn't that shocked because this mall is notorious for driving stores out of business, but now the closest Rue 21 is an hour away. And that's not very close!

It's probably just a matter of time before the entire mall shuts down. But in the meantime, Hot Topic had a new shirt, which surprised me because they don't get new Rick and Morty merchandise very often:

I'm glad we're getting more season five apparel, but come on, where's the Crow Witch Rick shirt? Bruce Chutback gets a shirt, but not him? Mr. Nimbus spooking Phoenix Person is pretty funny, though.

And another sign in Spencer's!

One of the nerdy stores had a stack of comics. I love this Summer (variant?) cover.

And, finally, a visit to the bigger mall today resulted in this sign.

So far, it's been a slow year for Rick and Morty apparel. Merchandising usually explodes around Christmas, but before then, we might be limited to the occasional mug, shirt or metal sign.

Or maybe they're getting ready to unleash a barrage of Crow Witch Rick T-shirts and hoodies...right?

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith #spencer's #hot topic #rue 21 #head shop #roundup #summer smith #beth smith #jerry smith #space beth #bird person #mr. nimbus #phoenix person #marshall's

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yyh4ever · 10 months

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ZOZOTOWN x Yu Yu Hakusho

It seems that with the distribution of the Netflix's Yu Yu Hakusho many live action merch is going to be released! A POP UP STORE in Marui with Netflix goods has also been announced.

ZOZOTOWN fashion online shop will be selling Netflix clothing and clothing accessories from December 13th to January 8th, 2024 . The shipping period is scheduled for early March to late April 2024 (Source: fashionsnap).

This collab features the visuals of Yusuke Urameshi (Takumi Kitamura), Kurama (Jun Shison), Hiei (Kanata Hongo), and Kazuma Kuwabara (Shuhei Uesugi). The Lineup includes 7 types of apparel and miscellaneous goods that incorporate original designs and scenes from the live action:

Short sleeve T-shirts (4 types, 5,720 yen each)

Long sleeve T-shirts (2 types, 6,820 yen each)

Hoodies (4 types, 8,910 yen each)

Acrylic key chains & Tote Bags (4 types, 3,850 yen each)

4-type Tin Badge Set (2,200 yen)

Cap (4,400 yen)

Yukimura Restaurant Glass & Towel Set (2,750 yen)

Sarayashiki Shopping Street (皿屋敷商店街)

Yukimura Restaurant (雪村食堂)

Package & Stickers

Products purchased on ZOZOTOWN will be shipped in a collab design package. The customers will also receive an original holographic sticker.

#Yu Yu Hakusho x ZOZOTOWN #yu yu hakusho #zozotown #Takumi Kitamura #Jun Shison #kanata hongo #shuhei uesugi #yusuke urameshi #kazuma kuwabara #hiei #kurama

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muddyorbsblr · 2 years

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to save her pt1

See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration requested by: @my-gf-loki

Summary: When Loki loses a wager against Thor, he has to spend a few hours on Midgard and play by his brother's rules. When he meets you, he suddenly no longer felt too sour about losing.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings [spoilers]: major character death

Things to be aware of: Story takes place in 1990s

"Hogun has developed more various techniques in combat, I am positive he will prevail in this little showcase," Thor declared proudly as he watched his warrior friends engaging in a friendly match for the sake of their training.

Loki simply tutted at his brother in response, confident in his prediction of the outcome was quite different from the god of thunder's. "Fandral's height and arm reach will grant him the advantage he requires to best Hogun in this match, Brother."

"So smug once again, little Brother," the blond god chuckled. "How about we make this more interesting with a wager?"

"I'm in," the god of mischief responded with a taunting tone. "When I win you must spend the remainder of the day as a goose. Only when you retreat to your chambers to sleep for the night will you return to your regular form."

Thor merely laughed heartily at the wager, seemingly self-assured that he would not be partaking in any shapeshifting this fine day. "And when I win, Brother, you will spend until nightfall within Midgard, walking amongst the mortals wearing their tourist apparel."

"Enjoy your time waddling and honking."

"Enjoy your afternoon in Midgard."

The brothers waited with bated breath as the two warriors had exchanged blows, evenly matched with Fandral's agility and Hogun's speed. After a few minutes of metal clanging and lighthearted battle cries, a strangled sound of disbelief echoed across the training field as Hogun stood above Fandral victorious.

"It seems we are off to the Bifrost, Brother. Remember, you must stay until nightfall, and you must walk among the mortals. No scurrying into your libraries and book shops idling the time away. People should see you. I will have Heimdall presiding over this to ensure that you will abide by these rules."

Thor had decided that he would choose where within Midgard Loki would be sent off to, which was how the raven-haired god found himself walking the streets of New York City, perusing the stalls to find a merchant that offered tourist's apparel.

Equipped with some Midgardian currency acceptable in this country, he approached the first merchant he found, grumbling his intent to buy one shirt that ostentatiously stated that the wearer "hearts NY", handing over the amount required to purchase the inferior garment.

"You don't look too happy with your purchase there, buddy," a voice spoke up from somewhere beside him. He looked over to see the one who belonged to that all too casual sounding voice that seemed as if there was sympathy behind her sentiment, but also just the slightest touch of mockery. A combination that he prided himself that only he excelled in; for that reason alone, he wanted to see this person face to face.

When he saw you, he needed to take a moment to compose himself. Truthfully whenever he visited Midgard he never once took the time to properly look at the people walking around him, refusing to take in their features, let alone pay attention to how engrossed they were in such mundanities of their day to day lives.

But one look at you, with your inquisitive doe-like eyes, your hair neatly falling to the middle of your back with half of it pulled back into a nondescript hair tie, eyebrow raised in a clear expression of amusement, and the god who usually had so many words he could tire out any partner in conversation…was at a loss for them. With your elegant features and your almost aristocratic posture, you seemed just as out of place as the Asgardian in this garment store.

"I lost a wager to my brother," he mumbled in explanation, bringing you to begin melodically chuckling in response. "I am to walk these streets adorning this garish garment until nightfall. Apparently a representative of his will be overseeing my activities to ensure that I will be playing by his rules."

"Yikes. Sorry, buddy. Sounds like that sucks a fat one. You have my deepest sympathies." While your words sounded sincere, the smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth remained, compelling Loki to smile at the sight of you despite his efforts to remain stoic…or even surly at the predicament he was about to find himself in.

"And what of you, milady? What brings you to this establishment of kitschy garments?"

"Milady?" you questioned in awe. "I have never met anyone who actually used that unless they were playing a bit. You're not an actor, are you? Going a little too method into your role there?" He furrowed his eyebrows at you, shaking his head in response. "Huh. Maybe I just haven't met too many people across the pond then. Gotta change that one of these days…" you trailed off before lightly hitting your head with the bottom of your palm. "Oh, right. What brings me here. Well my aunt and uncle are in town and I've been assigned with getting them some Big Apple souvenirs. So much fun…not."

The god nearly felt the sharp pang of loss as you approached the merchant to purchase the garments you'd chosen for your relatives. He wasn't quite ready to conclude your conversation yet; your presence had not been as grating as that of the other people he'd encountered in this realm. He could stand to be around you a few more minutes. Hours even. He was even willing to explore the possibility of spending days around you, if you'd let him.

When you turned around to face him, he braced himself for the inevitable farewell. Never having even gotten your name. But then your next words had his heart beating a little harder in his chest. "So you have to walk around here for a few hours, huh?" He nodded mutely at your question. "Well then, I have a few hours to kill. Honestly just prolonging the inevitable inquisition from relatives that just revolve around why I gained weight or why I'm perpetually single, and I will gladly put that off until the second coming of Christ so…you want some company?"

You were offering to accompany him? Willingly? What had he done today that had the Norns smiling down on him so? "I--I would love some company," he stammered, clearing his throat and trying to smoothen his suddenly rough voice.

The smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth had affected him so strangely; he could swear that he could feel himself beginning to yearn. All he knew at that moment was that he wanted to see that smile again, that he wanted to give you reason after reason to smile in his presence. "Well, I always think that it's a terrible idea to be in the company of strangers, so let's fix that real quick, shall we?" You held your hand out to him. "I'm Y/N."

He took your hand in his, but instead of shaking it, he turned it over in his grasp and bent down to press his lips to your knuckles. "Hello, Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Loki."

You spent the next few hours walking down the length of Broadway, and the god found himself given the rare opportunity to talk to someone without being interrupted or being told to stop because he'd gone off on tangent after tangent. No. Instead, he'd found that at every detour his stories had taken, you'd listened and followed right along with him, asking questions that further proved to him that you were just as engaged in the exercise as he was.

When he saw that the sun had nearly fully set and the city had begun to be shrouded by the night sky, a heavy weight had settled over his heart, the disappointment over his time with you coming to a close sinking in. It was clear from your expression that to some degree, you shared the same sentiment. "Looks like it's time to rejoin the land of the nosy relatives," you grumbled.

"Well that may very well just be the beautifully tragic thing about family and the double edged sword that is unconditional love."

You shook your head at him in clear disagreement. "I don't believe that love should be unconditional. Gives people cute ideas. You tell them that you love them and that you'll be there for them no matter what and suddenly they find themselves testing the limits just to see if there really are none. Unconditional love means that someone can exploit and abuse that love, and at the end of the day you'll still be there, gluing the very same heart that they shattered back together to hand it back over to them. I refuse to ever let anyone have that power over me. Even family."

Once again Loki found himself taken aback at your response, having him believe that you were far from Midgardian after all. These humans thrived on the idea of that type of love, wrote such poignant literature about it, some even died for it, and here you were refusing to succumb to the concept of it. Choosing to be rational instead.

An approach that he agreed with, an outlook on the universe that he shared.

Before he could process the words, they slipped out of his mouth. "I like you, Y/N."

His outburst of sentiment had you breaking out into a beaming grin. "I like you, too, Loki." You briefly took his hand in yours, giving it a quick squeeze before letting go once more. "If ever you're in town again, look me up. My last name's Y/L/N. I work in the Oracle building in Manhattan. Near Central Park."

And then, as if you hadn't blindsided him enough times today already, you did so one final time, as you stepped closer to him, stood on the tips of your toes, and lightly pressed your lips to his cheek. "Until next time," you whispered, before promptly turning around and walking away from him.

Next time, he thought to himself, allowing a smile to ghost across his features.

When Thor was once again feeling confident about setting up a wager against his brother, this time over a duel between Volstagg and Hogun, Loki found himself looking for the less likely outcome and placing his confidence behind that. His intention was clear only to himself: He wished to lose so that he may have a reason to visit Midgard again. To see you again.

"Next time" had finally come.

He held back a knowing smile as he watched Hogun win once again, ready to revisit Midgard again. Ready to look for you. Thor had decided that for this visit, he would need to sit in a coffee shop and fully engage in conversation with any mortal that approached him. There were to be no illusion casting to fool the mortal, no mentally disconnecting from the conversation. He was to be fully present.

Not an hour later, Loki found himself in New York once again, observing the city dwellers how they proceeded to communicate with one another, and shortly after stepped into a phone booth to peruse the directory for one Y/N Y/L/N. It was just after the luncheon hour when he situated himself upon a seat in a cafe close to the structure displaying the name Oracle on its facade.

He passed the time nursing a cup of coffee, watching the door as the humans filed in. Perhaps he'd missed his window? Had he taken too long searching for your building?

"Hey, stranger." His gaze snapped up at the sound of your voice, a smile finding its way to his face at the sight of you. "This is a nice surprise."

To say that he was elated at the turn of events, to have you be the first mortal that approached him, albeit he did have to mastermind this "chance encounter" in order to increase the chances of it being so, was an understatement. He invited you to join him for a coffee, which quickly turned into two and a shared slice of cake, as you talked about your duties and aspirations in life.

How despite what the realm thought about him he didn't wish to be King, but rather only to be given the opportunity to aid in the betterment of the Nine. To be seen as more than simply a troublemaker. He had more to offer than wiles and tricks; he could provide council, strategize, even fight with the best of them. If only he were to actually be given a chance to prove it.

Once again you listened intently, even held his hand through portions of his story, telling him how these people were fools who failed to see in knowing him for majority of his life what you'd seen within a few hours of being in his company. You told him how you could see that he was brilliant, that if you were in the place of these people who clearly desperately required council you'd seek out someone objectively intelligent, rather than just someone you were familiar with.

"These people don't deserve you, Loki," you said softly, keeping your hand within his gentle grasp. "And you deserve so much better."

At your words he found himself yearning for that better to perhaps be a life with you. It mattered not where it would be, whether it be Midgard or Asgard or anywhere in the Nine Realms. He knew it irrational to think such thoughts upon knowing you for barely a heartbeat in his extensive lifetime, but he so desperately longed for that life regardless. And even more desperately, he longed for you to want that life as well.

He looked to the sky to allow himself a brief interlude from your piercing gaze, dread setting in as he saw the sun beginning to set. "Darling, I have to apologize, it seems I've held you from your duties for an extended period. I would understand if you need to--"

"Don't worry about it," you dismissed his concerns so casually. "Nobody in that office notices a woman's presence until she makes a mistake." A rueful smirk colored your features as you finished your statement with, "And I haven't made any mistakes so far. So I'm blissfully invisible."

He reached across the table to lightly hold your chin with his free hand. "You're far too beguiling to be invisible, dear Y/N." You let out a warm exhale against his thumb when he lightly ran it across your bottom lip. "A woman like yourself deserves to be seen."

"Well maybe I should only be seen by the right people," you murmured in response, your gaze unwavering in its intensity as it locked onto the god's. "Are you only here again until nightfall?"

He could feel the melancholia setting over your heads like a taunting shroud, a ticking clock waiting to chime and bring you both out of the little pocket of peace you'd found in this little cafe. "I'm afraid so, dear Y/N." He shifted his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb gently stroking along your cheekbone. The ache in his heart intensified as you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as if you were relishing this very moment the same as he was. "I wish to see you again. Soon," he uttered before he could hold back the words.

Your eyes opened and met his once more, shining with a fondness that threatened to steal the air from his lungs if he stared for too long. Which he was; he couldn't find it in himself to look away. "I would like that very much." You reached into your bag and handed him a large rectangular device. "If you find yourself with plans to visit again, call me before you do. It's the only number programmed on there anyway, and it's not like the company would miss one phone from stock. Call me, and I'll take the day off work."

Your Highness, it is time. Your brother is anxiously awaiting your return, Heimdall's voice echoed in Loki's mind. It was as if you'd heard the voice as well because you stood up from your seat and walked over to his side of the table.

"Until next time, I suppose," you said softly, placing your hand on his shoulder and leaning in to press a kiss on his cheek.

"Next time," he muttered, looking upon you with longing coating his every word as he watched you walk out of the establishment to return to your duties. He looked to the sky and addressed Heimdall. "Not a word to my brother about her."

"Brother, I am convinced you are intentionally losing now. How have you wagered wrong thrice in a row? I believe you much more analytical than that," Thor goaded as Loki once again lost in wagering on the outcome of a sparring match between Volstagg and Fandral this time.

"Perhaps you do not give yourself enough credit, Brother," the god of mischief remarked in an attempt to deflect his brother's train of thought. "It is pitiable that you would rather believe I was losing intentionally rather than that you were genuinely triumphant."

"Say what you wish, Brother, but I know you better than you might think. Not only did you lose for the third time in our little wagers, but you seem…delighted that you'd lost." He gasped in such an animated manner that Loki compared him to a child…perhaps a toddler, who'd been given a few too many sweets at the table. "You met someone on Midgard, didn't you?"

The raven-haired god blanched at how quickly he'd come to the right thought. "I know not what you're talking about, Brother," he mumbled.

"Nonsense. Tell me about her." He glared at Thor. "Him?" More glaring. "Come on, Loki. At least tell me one thing about this Midgardian."

"There is no Midgardian," he lied through gritted teeth. His brother always somehow found a way to obtain the things he desired for himself; he couldn’t entirely blame it on Thor, for it was simply the way of nature. People liked his jovial disposition especially when put in stark contrast to Loki's. All he longed for was that he could prolong that inevitability and keep you for himself just a little while longer.

"So you obtained that archaic-looking device from Midgard for what then? Sentimentality?" The sarcasm was dripping from the god of thunder's voice as Loki dialed the only number programmed in the device, laughing boisterously as he received an even more pointed glare from his brother. "Listen, Brother, don't tell me about this person if you wish. I can remain content in at least knowing you have someone who lights you up the way you are now."

"Hello?" a voice spoke from the device. Your voice. "Loki? Is that you?"

He quickly brought the device up to his ear, speaking into the bottom of it. "Y/N. Yes it's me. You said to call once I have plans of visiting again. I should be there within the next two hours. Is it too short of a notice for—"

"Not at all." He could nearly hear you smiling as you said the words. "I'll call in sick for work today and you'll call me when you get here?"

"That sounds excellent, darling." He turned his back to Thor so that he wouldn't see the smile growing on his face. "I look forward to spending the day—" A feeling of dread settled over him as he heard the sound of skidding tires and horns blaring over from your end of the call, first distant but quickly increasing in volume…and proximity.

"Loki?" you said softly, the dread and confusion audible in your tone. The final words he heard from you before the sound of metal crunching like cheap aluminum came through to his end. Followed by the sound of your device hitting the ground.

"Y/N?" he choked out. Part of him already knew you wouldn't answer, but he had to try regardless. "Darling?" His voice was barely audible. There was nothing but sirens and panicked voices that all melded together as he heard his pulse drumming violently in his ears.

All he knew as he felt Thor's hand clap over his shoulder, the device dropping from his hand just as his knees hit the hard floor of his chambers, was that his world had shattered around him.

A/N: Ngl writing the last bit broke me a little because the precious bb was so happy he was gonna see her again and then…🥲😭

Everything taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @my-gf-loki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27 @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston @ladyjames78 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @kats72 @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot @creationsbyme @coldnique

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #muddyorbs writes #fic requests

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trashpie420 · 10 months

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Loki Season 2 was heartbreaking so im just writing what should've happened. Or just ideas/thoughts I wish/wanted to see. PART 3:

-Loki meeting Mobius/Don’s ex wife and her surprised that Mobius/Son found love for something that isn’t a jet ski.

-AU where Loki & Mobius open a beach themed bar so they can always be around/on jet skis and water together.

-AU where Loki is a famous model/influencer who falls in love with single dad Mobius at Möbius’s jet ski shop and ends up with 30+ jet skis (he got them so he can keep seeing Mobius).

-Mobius being a Wild West fanatic and Loki discovering that his boyfriend looks hot in cowboy boots.

-Loki having a goth/emo apparel (black cat energy) with Mobius being a suburban beach vibe cargo short dad (golden retriever energy).

-Loki & Mobius/Don on a date which ends up with Loki bumping into Jane and Darcy leading him to explain he is a different Loki and that he just wants to have a nice date with his husband.

-Loki stating he doesn’t like animals but ends up having a soft spot for old golden retrievers (they remind him of Mobius).

-Mobius/Don crushing hard on the new guy across the street (Loki moves across the street from him) and his work buddies notice how distracted Mobius/Don is on his jet skis.

-AU where Mobius is a stereotypical single dad who gets upset at his sons for playing with an Ouija board and deciding to go to the new “Magick” store to knock some sense into the guy who sold the Ouija board to his kids. However, plans change when he falls hard for the middle aged goth guy named Loki in all black, all tatted and rocking the eyeliner. Mobius has been “bewitched”.

These are what I have again for now. These ideas/AUs are open for taking and sharing. I hope y’all like it I might write a few of these as Fics.

#loki x mobius #loki season 2 #loki series #lokius #loki #mcu loki #mobius m mobius #marvel #mcu

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withoutyouimsaskia · 2 years

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Remember Me, Special Dreams

Part XXI.

GIF: Originally posted by @mimisempai

Summary: Self-insert. You're having trouble with recurring night terrors and Morpheus pays you a visit. (Title from the lyrics of Placebo’s Special Needs)

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of night terrors.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Hello there dearest readers. I’m back! I hope the festive period was kind to you all and that you are doing well. It’s all about to happen in this chapter (why not start off 2023 with a bang, right?) Would love to know how you are and your thoughts. All my love, Saskia ❤️

Sandman Masterlist

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

You breathe a sigh of relief upon leaving the supermarket. It had become a little crowded in there towards the end. Seemingly, some people didn't value personal space like you did and it had made you feel vulnerable having that kind of proximity to total strangers.

The cool autumn air is soothing and the sound of the carpet of crinkly leaves underfoot is so much better than the beeping of tills, the whirring of refrigerator cabinets and the hubbub of chatter.

You pause for a moment to the side of the sliding doors to swing your backpack up onto your shoulders and set a jute tote bag in your right hand. You take a couple of steps to the edge of the pavement, looking left and right with the intention of crossing the road.

That's when you see him.

Morpheus.

Standing on the opposite side of street. Looking right at you.

You react in the same way as you had done the first time you had met. Blinking several times, believing that you are simply imagining. But you’re not.

He's wearing a different coat but it's definitely him.

You move towards him like warm air being drawn to a cold pane of glass. Inexorably. You stop in front of him. His face is so perfect in the early afternoon sunlight. Your attraction to him reignites with fierceness.

“Hello, Y/N.”

How you had missed that velvet voice.

A mischievous grin pulls your lips up. “I would ask if I'm dreaming but we both know that I can't actually do that anymore.”

“You haven't changed, Y/N,” he says with bemusement.

“You have.” You gesture to his apparel. "New coat?"

"It is more suitable for blending in when in the public domain."

"I see.” You smile again at his practical approach before adding, “It looks good on you."

You adjust one of the straps on your backpack with your free hand.

"I trust you are well, Y/N."

Emotions of guilt, regret, and longing break through your initial feelings of excitement and begin to cycle through your mind on a fast-playing loop.

"I've been alright, keeping busy," you let the sentence trail off.

The stoic expression on his face worries you.

“Are you okay, Morpheus? Has something happened for you to come here?”

“All is well. Lucienne suggested that I should… enquire after your wellbeing.”

“Oh. That's very sweet. Please pass my best wishes to her.”

“I will.”

Your feet suddenly become very interesting.

"When you say you have been busy, may I ask for more details?"

His question is unexpected; you stumble internally.

"Sure, but, um, can I ask if we could walk while we talk?” You peer at your groceries. “I’ve just been to the shop and there are some things that need to go in my fridge."

“Of course.”

“Great. Um, shall we?” You incline your head in the direction that you need to take.

Before you can begin to walk, Morpheus goes to take the bag from your hand.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to -”

Ever so gently, he slips it from your grasp.

“I insist.”

Now free of your load, you dig your hands into the pockets of your red quilted jacket and start to walk at a semi-brisk pace to keep up with his long legs.

“What do you want to know?”

“As much as you are comfortable with sharing.”

“Right. Well... I changed jobs to go to a less corporate company, and I’m starting to make friends there. Got back into artistic pursuits. Adopted a cat.”

"A cat?”

“What can I say, they're a great companion; cuddly, affectionate, quiet, introverted like me. The whole package.”

“I am pleased for you. It sounds as if you have made a number of beneficial decisions to improve your waking life.”

The reference Morpheus is making and the measured tone of his voice brings your guilt to front and centre.

“I'm sorry about what I said that night. About wanting to go back to my ‘real life’. Having another life in my dreams was a gift. It provided for me in ways that my hours awake were lacking in. I was lonely and you made me feel so welcome and cared for. I didn’t want to leave you. I was just so afraid of hurting people, hurting the Dreaming. I only said it because I couldn't think of how else to get you to agree.”

He looks straight ahead. “I see.”

“Are you mad at me?” You stare at his profile, a stifling burn threatening to close off your throat and spill tears from your eyes.

“No,” he says, meeting your wobbling gaze. “You put the needs of others ahead of yourself. I could not hold a decision like that in contempt.”

There is nothing you can think to say in response so you become quiet. After a couple more minutes of walking, you reach your house and stop at the top of the path that leads to the front door.

“Do you want to come inside?”

He nods once and you pull your keys from your pocket in readiness before making the short journey down the line of stone slabs. Once inside, you remove your outdoor clothes and shoes and take back the bag from Morpheus.

A loud mew sounds from just behind the internal door.

You grin. “Brace yourself.”

As soon as you open the door, you are greeted by a rush of black fur. You are immediately crouching down to let him sniff you and to give him a fuss.

“Morpheus, this is Neo.”

You giggle internally. All you are missing now is Trinity.

Neo moves on from you and begins to wind himself between Morpheus’ legs, rubbing his cheeks affectionately against every part of him that he can reach. Morpheus copies your stance and holds out his hands. Neo bumps into them both in turn before allowing your companion to stroke the back of his head.

Your cat’s green eyes fall closed and he begins to purr.

“I think he likes you,” you comment.

Eventually contented with the amount of fuss given, Neo clambers up onto the window ledge and assumes a sentry position.

You move into the kitchen and begin to scurry about the room, storing food in various locations, emulating a squirrel stashing acorns.

Morpheus hovers in the doorway looking like a lost child.

You finally get round to host duties.

“Can I get you anything? Tea, water?”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay.”

You want tea so you fill your kettle to the minimum line and start it heating. You use the interval to gather the remaining objects you require. All this activity is great for alleviating your nervous energy but only seems to fuel Morpheus’. You notice it in your peripheral vision as you return the milk bottle to the fridge.

“There's something on your mind, Morpheus,” you state.

He feigns innocence.

You give him a knowing look and blow on your tea.

He gives in when you speak his name.

“Before, when I said that Lucienne had sent me, it was not entirely true. I didn't give you the context. I am here because there is something I need to say.”

You sip your drink quietly as he composes himself.

“I have been haunted by how things ended that night. I swore to protect you and instead I failed you.”

“It’s not your fault.”

He closes his eyes and is silent for a moment. “What is it like to sleep without dreaming?”

“It was disorientating at first. I could usually gauge how much sleep I had managed to get through remembering my dreams in the morning but without them, it was difficult to know if I had even slept at all. I’m used to it now though.”

“Do you day dream?”

You smile. “Yes. A lot more than I used to.”

“What do you think of?”

“You. All the hours we spent talking. All the hours we spent in silence. Your eyes. Your little smile. Your voice…” You suppress your trepidation and continue. “When you kissed me on the penultimate night.”

When had your mouth become so dry? You take a long gulp of tea and put the mug down.

“I also think about that time. I often wonder what would have transpired between us if I hadn’t cut you off from the Dreaming.”

His admission has your pulse spiking.

“I wonder about that too,” you say quietly.

The intensity of Morpheus' unwavering stare, it makes you feel exposed. He takes a step across the threshold.

“I feel that we have a connection.”

You nod in agreement, unable to speak. The vulnerability in his eyes is potent. You are becoming lost in their blue again.

“I wish to deepen our connection.”

The rumble of his voice causes heat to bloom inside you. Your thoughts are eddying in circles. Morpheus has just told you that he wants more. He wants you. Exactly as you want him.

"Is that something that you can see yourself wanting to explore?" His tone is loaded with sexual tension.

Your voice breaks as you reply, "Yes."

He’s across the room in mere milliseconds, lips meeting yours in a passionate collision.

Gone is the uncertainty and nervousness that underpinned your first two kisses. Morpheus’ body is flush against yours, pressing you into the wall. His hands cup your face and neck. He kisses you deeply, eagerly, desperately.

His soothing scent encapsulates you like mist on a winter morning. You are gripping the fabric of his coat to keep him close.

You cannot get enough of him. And from the way he is touching you, it is likely that he feels the same.

The pace of the embrace comes down slowly and naturally until you are kissing languidly. You are reluctant to stop but you have a question that you need to ask.

You pull back and look up at him. Your features are anxiety.

“Y/N,” Morpheus whispers with concern, his face shifting to mirror yours.

“Shall we go to my bedroom?” You ask, paraphrasing his words from when he had visited you on the second night.

You hold out your left hand.

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

"Hush, it's okay. Dry your eyes. Soulmate dry your eyes. Cause soulmates never die."

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bbeboppp · 11 months

Text

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 | 𝘗𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯 𝘕𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘬 | 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗪𝗢 ; Philosophy

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

❝I'm stronger than all my men; except for you..❞ quote from "Pretty When You Cry" by Lana del Rey.

✧

THIRD PERSON'S POV:

December 5th, 1971. 07:56 AM

The dim light from early morning hours shone in through lacey white curtains in Bobby's room, illuminating the cold flat. The humble droning of cars below rumbled softly. Bobby had never, ever been a morning person, especially in the winter months.

God, he remembered just why he didn't take opening-shift jobs now; the mornings of New York were miserable to be welcomed from sleep to. He groggily sat up, reaching to the foot of his bed, where his suitcase lay. Inside were just a few of his belongings, such as clean spare clothes, forty bucks, a half-empty deodorant stick, a pack of stale beef jerky, and a belt. As he looped the belt through the belt loops, Bobby remembered the feel of it's soft leather wrapped around the skin just above his elbow. As if the room wasn't already silent, another dreadful silence slipped in.

Rejecting the memory, Bobby finished looping his belt quickly, kicking his heels into his shoes as he shoved his bomber jacket over his shoulders, zipping up half-way. A box of matches and a packet of silk cuts branded themselves against his skin as he felt them in his pockets.

✧ THREE MINUTES LATER ✧

A five-minute walk with only a minute to spare, Bobby accepted the fact that he'd be late to work. He wasn't planning on punctuality, the mindset of working any job but one assigned to him already kicking in, I guess some things never change. Besides, the dark-haired man already had something else in mind.

Bobby sat on the steps of the apartment, a cigarette tucked between his lips. He rested his hands in the pockets of his jacket, keeping them from the nipping frosty air of New York. Across the street, the little café had opened. The tan-brown bricks, the tea-green awning, the name of the café written in white paint. He watched two waiters, already in uniform, walk in through the door along with a tall, grey-haired man with hollowed cheeks. He was likely the manager, as his ridiculous outfit suggested. The lights turned on inside, the outside seating brought outside once again & the awning extended out into the street. Lastly, the little sign saying Closed was flipped, now reading Open.

Bobby stood up, throwing his cigarette butt on the ground, stamping out the burn end with the tip of his boots as he crossed the street, entering the café.

✧ INSIDE THE SHOP; Y/N'S POV: ✧

Y/N's uniform consisted of a white t-shirt, green apron that wrapped around her mid-section & pants of her choice, which in today's case would be a pair of brown flared trousers. It was a fuck ugly uniform, but it hard to slay when you have to worry about the uniform policy.

The first customer of the day was an old man who sat in the darkest corner in the café, reading the menu slowly. He typically came in every few days and never tipped. Y/N's work partner, Loretta, usually took his order. Loretta was one of Y/N's only friends, but a great one at that. She had shoulder-length curls, bleached not quite blonde but rather an off-ginger shade. The second customer was a woman in all-black attire, probably attending some important meeting that day. She wore heels that sounded loudly on the old wooden floor as she walked towards the counter, ordering a black coffee to-go.

The third customer was a man y/n hadn't seen before, and definitely not one who looked like he drank coffee from a local café. Maybe he drank coffee, but still, his grungy apparel brought a feeling similar to a premonition, but an enticing one at that.

His face was stubbled; he needed a shave. His hair was kept out of his face with a band around his forehead and a tall nose standing in the middle of his face like some sort of landmark. The thick, dark hair around his face framed it; his dark eyes held a witty spark within them; he seemed upbeat for some reason.

"What would you like to order?" Y/N spoke, hands on the counter as she waited for an order to fix a drink of some sort.

No response. Bobby had heard her, and acknowledged it, probably, but he was busy reading the menu fixed on a sign above Y/N's head.

"Mmm, I don't know. What do you suggest?" Bobby spoke after maybe fifteen seconds of silence, glancing from the sign to her. Already, a line began to trickle in behind Bobby, all lining up quietly & neatly.

"Black coffee." Y/N spoke, unfeeling and unknowing to the chemistry Bobby was trying to search for. Her answer was short and simple. She had recommended the easiest drink on the menu.

"I don't like black coffee." He scoffed, looking back at the menu, reading it slowly and carefully as if he had all the time in the world.

Y/N frowned a little. She glanced nervously at the line, hoping the man would make up his mind. Thankfully Loretta had finished taking orders of seated customers & handed them to the manager who was working behind the counter and now opened a second register, a second line forming.

"Espresso then." Y/N suggested, another easy drink to make.

"What's in an espresso?" He tilted his head a little, knotting his brows together as if to imitate confusion.

"Americano." Y/N bluntly spoke. She didn't have the patience to explain simple coffee recipes.

"No no, I don't want an Americano, they're too sour." Bobby protested, shaking his head as if in disappointment.

"Americano's are sweet."

"No, they're sour."

A long silence came from Y/N. She stared at Bobby, not reciprocating his silliness.

"Americano's are not sour."

"The ones I've had are."

"..So.. do you want an Americano?"

"No I want an Espresso."

Y/N hesitated, waiting to see if he'd pull another trick. He stared intently now, his lips not moving to speak another remark.

Four minutes later, Bobby was handed his Espresso. He didn't typically indulge in buying over-priced coffee, but the charisma of the little café was something Bobby decided if he incorporated into his life, would steer him away from spending his time elsewhere. A distraction.

✧ 08:12; BOBBY'S POV: ✧

By the time Bobby had arrived at work, the store had been open for just over ten minutes. Inside was quiet, apart from a few teenagers on their way to school buying gum or the elderly doing their weekly shopping.

Matilda was at the front desk, the sweat on her forehead making her fringe begin to curl.

"You're late!" She hissed at Bobby entering through the door, strutting towards the backroom to get his uniform.

"No I'm not." Bobby replied before shutting the door to the backroom. He scribbled his name down on a name-tag, sticking it to the store-uniform fleece. The fleece was a dark navy colour with two thin lines running horizontally below the chest, one yellow and one red.

"You're LATE." She repeated, glaring at him, but still somehow keeping the pace she held scanning customer items.

"Maybe your watch is just fast." Bobby remarked, taking zero offense to the huff Matilda was working up over his timing. He walked into another register, opening it up.

The day went by with no significant events. Thankfully, Matilda didn't snitch to the manager about Bobby's punctuality, but there's a good chance she will if he runs late again.

✧ 03:21; ✧

First day back, Bobby had accidentally charged four customers twice the price of their items, dropped multiple & worked about three times slower than Matilda. Raul dropped by once, much less cheerful than he was the previous day. Bobby had a feeling that would happen; no grocery-store manager is typically that enthusiastic. He took a spoking break in the back alley, meeting Matilda doing the same. Their uniforms would smell of tobacco afterwards, but since Raul smoked in the backroom it was easy to blame the smell on the backroom, as Matilda had informed Bobby.

Raul offered Bobby $2.10 per hour if he stayed til half seven, as the person who was supposed to come in after Bobby had spontaneously moved to Florida. Bobby agreed, liking the sound of a seventy-cent temporary pay-rise.

✧ 07:26; ✧

With the end of Bobby's shift approaching, the final mile was really kicking in. His entire demeanour was tired, and he was working impossibly slow with a grumbly attitude.

Deciding to go out for a "smoke break" and never return, Bobby left the register & stood outside the shop, as Raul was shouting on the phone in the back-alley. As he held a cigarette between his tobacco-stained fingers, a familiar face exited the shop. Y/N, not wearing her horrid work uniform & in a thick fake-fur coat. She was holding two brown paper bags of groceries, balancing one on each hip.

Bobby stood up from where he slouched against the wall, now walking in step with her. A man of the moment, if Bobby tried this today he'd probably get tazed.

"Want some help carrying those?" He offered, the cigarette hanging lazily from his lips.

Taken slightly aback, Y/N frowned, almost discouraging him altogether.

Before Bobby could speak another bluntly friendly offer, Y/N handed him a bag. She continued walking, readjusting the other bag a little, not acknowledging the puppy she had at her heels.

"Your welcome." He sassily added.

The two walked a length together, Bobby sparking up conversation about anything, anything he could think of. "How's the weather?" He asked, spitting the cigarette he had into a bin, not wanting to look bummy in front of a lady. "Same as always. Cold." Y/N shrugged, crossing the street. Bobby followed in tow.

"Do you like your job?" He asked. "No, who does." Y/N answered. "Awh, don't be such a pessilist." Bobby cooed "The word is pessimist." She corrected him, fighting the oncoming smile at his idiocy. There was something.. slightly charming about the way he answered so quickly yet so foolishly, large doe eyes glancing to his side at her every chance he got.

"Oh, well, I'm not too smart. You seem smart, you go to college?" Bobby followed up. Y/N scoffed sadly, "No, I wish. I got rejected from four." "What were you gonna study?" "Philosophy." Y/N mumbled, perhaps slightly embarrassed about it. Not that she found anything wrong with studying philosophy, but her parents seemed to highly discourage it, since it's deemed typically useless.

"Oh, I know a few philosophers." Bobby spoke brightly. "Pythagoras, Plato, Aristotle.. Uhm.. Para-something." Bobby began listing all the philosphers that came to mind at that moment. Y/N giggled when he said para-something.

"What? I told you I'm not too smart." He retorted, mocking a hurt-tone in his voice. "Parmenides. Philosophy is much more complex than studying the Greek Philosophers though. I mean, the courses can cover a range of umbrella-genres.." As Y/N began rambling about all she knew of philosophy college courses, Bobby listened with a great interest. Of course, he didn't understand half of what she was saying, but at least he nodded along with great enthusiasm and asked a few questions along the way. Unbeknownst to Bobby, Y/N was taking the long way home, just to draw out the conversation a little longer.

✧ SIXTEEN MINUTES LATER; ✧

At the steps of a grey apartment, Y/N stopped. Bobby stopped beside her. He looked up at the building, trying to count the storeys in it but gave up at fifteen.

"What floor do you live on?" He asked. "Twenty." Y/N sighed, taking the bag from Bobby.

"Oh, and thank you." Y/N smile was warm, bizarrely different from when they first met. "Anything to help out the next Aristotle." Bobby replied, looking down with a grin.

Y/N rolled her eyes, giggling quietly. Bobby skipped up the steps ahead of her, just to get the door and hold it open.

"Why thank you." She smiled again, tilted her head against her shoulder as Bobby stood there, stupidly smiling.

"Are you working tomorrow?" Bobby asked, leaning on the side of the door now.

"No, I only work on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays." Y/N shook her head. Tomorrow was Wednesday.

"You have the day off?" Bobby asked, brows raising.

"No," Y/N sighed, huffing a laugh, "I'm going to Coney Island this Wednesday, visiting my sister."

"Well, have a good time so." He pursed his lips into a subtle smile, watching as Y/N made her way inside, towards the elevator. Bobby walked down the steps, towards his own flat. He didn't know this area of New York too well, but wouldn't get lost by any means.

He took a seven minute detour, deliberately avoiding Needle Park. A burning curiosity itched his insides. He wanted to have a look, to check up on his friends. To see if Kitty was there. But he couldn't do that, he couldn't go back. People don't go to Needle Park to find jobs or prosperity, they go there to die.

When Bobby got home, he patted down his pockets, looking for his keys. He found him in his back pocket & unlocked the door. A cold room & mumbled arguments from neighbours greeted him.

END OF CHAPTER ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Word Count: 2.2k

IMPORTANT: If I call Bobby Paolo at some stage PLEASE tell me omg it's so embarrassing I don't know why I do it </3

#tony montana #pacino #panic in needle park #al pacino #70s #new york #new york city #meow #uhhhhh

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