#//but ye I translated a new song today

[adrienneleclerc]

hii i love your fics so much! i was wondering if you could do a latina!reader x charles fic were reader is asking charles juicy questions fans sent in or him guessing female products? i hope this make sense ❤️

I think I get it. I’m going to make Y/N like Kika, she has a heavy social media presence but is also a model.

Grill the Boyfriend

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Latina!Reader

Summary: Charles fans have questions and Y/N will give them the answers

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors, a few +18 questions

A/N: sorry it took me so long, this was written on my phone

Y/N was setting up the camera and ring light in the living room so her new video would turn out well.

“Muñeco, are you ready?” Y/N asked,

“I’m coming!” Charles called out from his room before coming into the living room with a black shirt and gray sweatpants. “Do we have to film this today?”

“We don’t have to, but I want to get it out of the way.” Y/N said. Both sat down on the couch and Y/N clicked a button so it could record. “Hola, mis amores, if you’re new here, my name is Y/N and welcome to a new video. Today we are here with my boyfriend, the beautiful monegasque man who’s face card never declines, Scuderia Ferrari F1 driver Charles Leclerc.”

“Hello, everyone.” Charles waves hi to the camera.

“So all of you have sent me your questions on Instagram, and today we are going to be asking them, how are you feeling, muñeco?” Y/N asked.

“A little nervous.” Charles said

“We will start with an easy question, who is your celebrity crush?” Y/N asked.

“You are.” Charles said.

“Aw, that’s sweet. Mine is (your celebrity crush) actually.” Y/N said and Charles was offended.

“That’s how you want to play it? I change my answer, my celebrity crush is Camila Morrone.” Charles said.

“Oh my gosh, Charles, she’s my friend, you are never beating the homie hopper allegations now.” Y/N said and shook his head.

“Next question, please, before you give me a migraine.” Charles said.

“Very well, what is your favorite Måneskin song?” Y/N asked.

“Mm, i like zitti e buoni, mamma mia is very good too. Zitti e buoni is my favorite.” Charles said.

“Of course it is, there are so many edits of you to that song. I like supermodel and baby said, which is also used in your edits.” Y/N said.

“You watch edits of me, Mon coeur?” Charles asked.

“Next question!” Y/N exclaimed and Charles laughed at her abruptness. “Besides wiener dogs, what is your favorite breed?”

“I like all dogs honestly, I don’t have a favorite breed, but I always wanted a golden retriever.” Charles said

“That’s because you are a golden retriever boyfriend. I always wanted a Saint Bernard.” Y/N said.

“That’s because you loved Beethoven as a kid.” Charles said.

“I still love Beethoven, such a cute movie. Anyway, next question, if we broke up, would you try to date one of my friends?” Y/N asked and Charles covered his face.

“No I wouldn’t, all of your friends are in the states.” Charles said.

“So if one of them came here, would you go out with her if we broke up?” Y/N asked.

“Of course not! I would be trying to win you back.” Charles said.

“Okay then, do you think the car has gotten worse since Monaco?” Y/N asked. Charles paused for a moment

“Legally I can’t confirm or deny that statement. I think there are strategies that the team are implementing that only work in theory but not in practice and that’s causing poor results in races.” Charles said

“What a diplomatic answer, Mr. Leclerc. Based on your recent grill the grid video, have you ever thought about standing me up when we were first talking?” Y/N asked.

“No I did not think about standing you up at all.” Charles said.

“Más te vale, eh. Okay, this question is in Spanish, has pensado en tener una fiesta de despedida para Carlitos? Have you thought about throwing a goodbye party for Carlos since it’s his last Ferrari season?” Y/N translated the question to English.

“Yes, at the Ferrari garage, we’ve already started planning.” Charles answered

“Si, en el garaje de Ferrari, ya están planeando todo para Carlitos.” Y/N translated in Spanish. “Next question, do you like my cooking?”

“There’s no way they asked that.” Charles stated but Y/N showed him the Instagram inbox with the questions. “Does Charles like your cooking” Charles read. “I do like her cooking, she tries to make her cultural dishes fit into my diet and I appreciate that.”

“Thank you, muñeco.” Y/N kissed him. “What is your favorite sex position?”

“Why?” Charles asked facing Y/N. “Why do you need to know?” Charles asked facing the camera.

“They’ve asked this multiple times, the world wants to know.” Y/N said.

“Fine, I like Cowgirl, I like it when she rides me, I also like reverse cowgirl and doggy because I like seeing Y/N’s tattoo of my driver number.” Charles explained in detail and Y/N covered her face.

“Like Haley from One Tree Hill, anyway, what is one of your kinks?” Y/N asked.

“I like choking, hair pulling, being called sir.” Charles said.

“There will be no demonstrations. Craziest place you had sex?” Y/N asked.

“On the yacht.” Charles answered easily.

“I find it concerning how comfortable you are answering these types of questions.” Y/N commented. “Moving on, have you ever thought about marriage?”

“I have thought about getting married someday, having a family, 3 children like my mom did, a nice family dog.” Charles said.

“I’ve also thought about it, I think most women have Pinterest boards of wedding dresses, rings, centerpieces, shit like that.” Y/N commented. “Have you thought about moving away from Monaco?”

“I like Monaco, my family is here, I don’t think I can love somewhere else.” Charles said.

“Have you ever read fanfics about yourself?” Y/N asked.

“Im sorry, what?” Charles asked.

“Fan fiction, have you ever read fan fiction about yourself?” Y/N asked again.

“No I haven’t, but I admire the creativity all of you have.” Charles said.

“I have read fanfics about you.” Y/N admitted to Charles. “They are really well written on tumblr, you know.”

“Why read about me when you have the real thing, Mon coeur?” Charles asked

“Because I have trouble sleeping and I need something to read.” Y/N said. A few questions later, we are in the last question. “Are you excited for Lewis to join Ferrari?”

“Of course I am! We have talked a lot off the track, we are very good friends, I can’t wait for him to join Ferrari.” Charles said.

“And that’s it for this video, hope y’all liked it, make sure to like, comment, and subscribe. For more content, follow me on TikTok and Instagram, besitos.” Y/N said and stopped the recording. “Perfect! I just need to edit it and I can post it later. Thank you for being a good sport, muñeco.” Y/N said, kissing Charles.

“Of course, Mon coeur, anything for you. Now what were you saying about someone else being your celebrity crush?” Charles asked.

“Well they are my celebrity crush, you were my celebrity crush but now I’m dating you.” Y/N said. “You really think about marriage and having a family?”

“Whenever I picture myself having a family, you are right there.” Charles said, they shared a loving kiss. “You want to head out in the yacht today?”

“I would love to.” Y/N said.

The End

hope y’all liked it!

[honeydewblogforwriting]

The Wolff Pack (Mr. and Mrs. Wolff pt.2)

Warnings: innuendos, cursing, bad grammar, poorly translated German

Pt.1

Sunday (race day) :

Monday night:

Two weeks later

Y/N: Hello GQ. I'm Y/N YM/N Wolff

Toto: and I'm Toto Wolff

Y/N: you mean Torger Christian Wolff. We're using our government names today, babe. No nicknames.

Toto: y/n, please.

Y/N (giggling) : okay, okay. I'm sorry, you guys can cut that part out.

Y/N and Toto: and today we'll be doing the GQ's couple quiz to see how well we know each other.

Producer: who's going first?

Toto: Y/N is always first in my life so her.

Y/N: awww, he's trying to butter me up incase he gets anything wrong!

[Toto shakes his head]

Y/N: Okay first question. When did we first meet?

Toto: At the 2018 Austin GP

Y/N: ehhh wrong answer forehead!

Toto: schatz, I'm right. You were invited by Ferrari and you had on their merchandise and a beautiful red jacket and your hair was down. You were passing by Mercedes Hospitality and we smiled at each other and you gave me a tiny wave.

Y/N: babe... what? I- wait, its coming back to me now. What how did you remember that?

Toto: How could I forget? You looked absolutely radiant in that hideous ferrari red, a hard feat to pull off.

Y/N: (giggling) awww. Give him two points for this one. Okay, next question: what is my favourite look on you?

Toto: mein Geburtstagsanzug

[Subtitle: my birthday suit]

Y/N: benehmen

[Subtitle: behave]

Toto: okay, serious answer now. You love me in a good button down, pleated pants and my glasses.

Y/N: yes, I could literally eat you up when you wear that.

Toto: and you're telling me to behave?

Y/N: babe, you're worse than me but anyways! Next question, what is my go to soda order?

Toto: this has to be a trick question because you don't drink soda. You only indulge in green juices and smoothies. Your favourite is a kale, spinach and beet smoothie with almond milk and peanut butter.

Y/N: you're correct once again! He knows me so well guys. I know this was a few years ago but what was the song that i constantly sang after we got engaged? (laughing)

Toto: (shakes head while chuckling) It was so awful and unexpected that it's stuck with me and sometimes (unfortunately) plays in my head. It went something like, "put it on him make him wanna marry me." And you'd sing it while flaunting your ring and body rolling.

Y/N: yes, right on the nose! Okay, so what is my ideal type of man?

Toto: derjenige, der dich zur Mutter gemacht hat, meine Liebe

[Subtitle: the one who made you a mom, my love.]

Y/N: correct again! Babe, you're on fire! And every correct answer makes you hotter and hotter...Baby Nummer zwei könnte früher kommen als geplant

[Subtitle: baby number 2 might come sooner than we planned].

Toto: schatz, do not make jokes like that, you know what I want.

Y/N: I'm not joking.

[silence on set as the camera switches between y/n and Toto who are locked in intense eye contact]

[Producer behind the scene]: um guys

Y/N: oh sorry, um, next question- what was the first foreign language I learned in high school?

Toto: Spanish and then you did French and finally Portuguese but you're more inclined to Portuguese. You're currently learning German.

Y/N: correct, the perks of attending a private school. And,  to those of you viewing at home, I'm learning German because Torger refuses to speak to baby girl in English! He swears that she has to know German just as fluently as English and I don't want to be left out so I'm indulging in it.

Y/N: Okay, final question- what is my favourite thing to do?

Toto: well, it's definitely trying new things. You love to try different hobbies, crafts, sports, business ventures, careers and it's admirable, you just go after what you want even if it's something you know nothing about. Also you love spending time with die Prinzessin .

Y/N: correct again, Torger Christian Wolff, you got everything right, now that is stinking cute.

[TOTO WOLFF QUIZZES Y/N WOLFF]

Toto: Okay, schatz, first question- when is my birthday?

Y/N: is this a trick question? Your birthday is January 12. You were born in 1972 in Vienna, Austria to a Middle class family and your education was focused towards finance and economics because of the family you grew up in.

Toto: (laughing) schatz, you might as well let the people know my blood type, that was a lot of details but all true. I'll give you 4 points for this. Okay, next question. What is my favourite snack?

Y/N: me of course!

Toto: you'd be my favourite meal, schatz

Y/N: oop, okay! Let me get serious though, your favourite snack is Kumpir with Sauerkraut Filling and Pumpernickel Crumble. You ate so much of it on our honeymoon that it made you sick. I'm surprised you still like it (giggling).

Toto: Where is my favourite place to be?

Y/N: okay I'm giving two answers for this one-  first, it's anywhere that Prinzessin and I are and second, at home it used to be in our room but now it's Prinzessin's room. Torger would spend all day there if he could.

Toto: mhmm, I'm actually surprised that your answer was PG but correct again beautiful. Next question, what is my biggest priority?

Y/N: family, I know this might seem like a surprise to the viewers but you have never missed an anniversary, hospital visit, birthing class, date night, family reunion, birthday celebration or anything of the sort. I don't know how you do it but that it's so clear to see that your loved ones are your number priority .

Toto: How would I describe myself ? Like how do I view myself ?

Y/N: mhm this is tough, I think you consider yourself as someone who is constantly evolving whether that's in your personal life or your career. You're driven and goal oriented. You've got that aggressive streak that the Internet loves to make memes of but uh, yeah. How'd I do?

Toto: pretty spot on. It's like you know me better than I know myself. Okay, final question, what is the name of our sweet little angel ?

Y/N: yup, you heard that right, for the first time ever we will be revealing the name of our baby girl. We thought it would be perfect to announce it during something so fun and sweet. Anyways enough of the chit chat.

Y/N and Toto: (turns to look at each other, grabs each other hands) we'd like to formally introduce the world to Myah Sunshine Wolff!

Y/N: it was so nice being here and I'd like to thank GQ for inviting us onto their wonderful platform.

Toto: I hope you guys enjoy watching this as much as we enjoyed making this. Bye!

(Both of them wave until the screen goes black)

A few hours after the video is released :

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

i can see you (miguel o'hara's version)

pairing: professor/mentor!miguel o’hara x graduate assistant!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 4.5k

summary:

As Dr. Miguel O’Hara’s graduate teaching and research assistant, you’ve spent years pushing down the inappropriate thoughts you’ve had about the brilliant, gorgeous man.

But what happens when a late night at the lab and a scientific breakthrough leads to a breakthrough of a different kind?

author's note:

my first (but probably not my last) miguel o'hara fic based on taylor swift's song "i can see you" from speak now tv. if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or commenting and letting me know your thoughts!

content warnings/tags:

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), explicit language, no use of y/n, alternate universe - no powers, age gap (undefined), presence of power dynamics (teacher/student), author took scientific liberties (forgive her, its been 10 years since bio II lab), pineapple on pizza, potentially bad spanish translations, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), miguel picking reader up, unprotected p in v, size kink, choking, pet names, praise kink, competency kink, dirty talk. let me know if i've missed anything!

Translations you may need:

Universidad Estatal de Nueva York - State University of New York

Sí - Yes

Dios mío - My god

El Origen de la Genética Mutante - The Origen of Mutant Genetics

Mierda - Shit

Te lo prometo - I promise you

Lo juro por Dios - I swear to god

Arañita - little spider

Cállate - be quiet

Mirame - look at me

te sientes tan bien - you feel so good

Perfecto - perfect

________

You’re sitting in the front row, in the seat you’ve claimed as your spot, watching Dr. O’Hara pace in front of the projector screen that displays today’s lesson notes. 

“And what is the hallmark of this mutant gene that demonstrates its incompatibility for transmutation?” He asks the silent room of undergraduates that have found themselves on the roster for his Mutation Genomics III course at Universidad Estatal de Nueva York. 

A few hands go up around the room and Dr. O’Hara points to a student in the back who says, “Uh, it’s got a spiked protein arrangement that can’t be modified?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” Dr. O’Hara asks. There’s a sprinkle of laughter in the room and a smirk tilts his lips briefly. 

“An answer,” the student says more confidently. Dr. O’Hara nods.

“Correct, but that’s not the whole picture,” he says. His eyes catch yours and he gestures for you to join him. Your eyes go wide as you stand and walk to his side at the front of the class. “I’m sure some of you that actually use your available resources to pass my class recognize my teaching assistant. And if you don’t, I recommend visiting her office hours during this section because this is her area of research.”

Your cheeks feel warm as everyone’s attention falls to you. Dr. O’Hara hands you the data pad and steps back, giving you an encouraging nod. You tap the screen, bringing the diagram up on the holo projector and making it larger.

“You’re correct that the spiked protein arrangement can’t be modified, but there’s something more limiting in this particular model. If you look at it from this angle—,” you spin the DNA diagram, “you’ll see something else hindering the modification process. What do you see?”

Hands go up. Dr. O’Hara points to another student who says, “There’s a gap jump. The spike protein would continue to travel across the gap jump and avoid any inserts.”

“Exactly. So, what’s the potential alternative?” 

“Fill the gap. Target the spike protein in your modification cycle,” Dr. O’Hara finishes. “That’s all for today. Your exam next Wednesday will include this presentation, so don’t act surprised when you see the questions.”

A few students stop to speak with Dr. O’Hara as you gather your bag from your desk. His low voice calls your name, the timbre of it sending a shiver down your spine as you step up to his desk.

“You’re running a sequence right now, sí?” He asks, shuffling a stack of papers into order. 

“Yes, it should finish around seven tonight. Sorry, I know that it's late for a Friday,” you reply. He waves a hand dismissively.

“I’ll see you in the lab.” His brown eyes flick to yours and your stomach swoops, heart skipping a beat, same as it always does when he looks at you. 

Dr. Miguel O’Hara makes you nervous. Not only because he’s one of the most notable researchers in the field of mutant genomics, but also because he’s so handsome he leaves you breathless. He’s tall, towering over most men you’ve met, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist that are always covered by a suit and tie in the classroom or a lab coat in the research lab. His tan skin is complemented by dark hair and brown eyes that make you lose your train of thought when you stare into them for too long.

Which…is exactly what you’re doing now.

You clear your throat, stepping back from his desk. Had you been leaning closer? Christ, you hope not. You give him a brief smile before responding, “Yeah, see you tonight. Thank you, Dr. O’Hara!”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Miguel?” He calls after you. 

“Maybe when I’ve cracked the sequence!”

________

Miguel watches your hips sway in the jeans you wore to class today, the denim hugging your curves so well he has to bite back a groan. The door to the lecture hall slams shut behind you and he sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw in frustration.

You drive him crazy. Every class period you’re sitting in the front row, watching him as you tap your pen to your lips or leaning over your desk just enough to give him a glimpse down your blouse or dress. Or you’re in the lab, delicately handling samples and extractions with a level of competency beyond your years, your lip caught between your teeth as you analyze a sequencing output. 

He looks forward to and dreads your impending graduation in equal measure, being free from the constant temptation but losing the greatest researcher he’s met in years. 

Miguel finishes gathering his belongings as the door opens and the next lecturer comes in, nodding at him in greeting. As he steps out into the warm Nueva York air, he has a weird sense that something big is coming. 

He just doesn’t know what.

________

Miguel is waiting for you outside of his double locked research lab that evening, suit jacket hung over his arm and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to reveal tan forearms dusted with dark hair. Your brain nearly short circuits at the sight, conjuring up images of those arms wrapped around your—

No, you think. He’s your mentor. Your handsome, intelligent, and very serious mentor. 

He looks up as you approach, corners of his lips tilting the slightest bit. Or maybe it’s a trick of the light, you can’t be sure, but he presses his palm to the biometric lock and the heavy metal doors slide open. He steps inside ahead of you, putting his face in the frame of the security camera. A red laser scans his face and a light above the second locked door goes from red to green, the click of the lock disengaging echoing in the anteroom. 

You follow him through the door and into his research lab. The fluorescent lights glimmer off the chrome equipment and pristine bench surfaces. A machine whirs, running the sequence analysis you’ve been waiting on. 

“LYLA, what’s the status?” Dr. O’Hara says as he sets his belongings on the desk in the corner.

“Sequence will complete on schedule. Also, your specimen delivery is available in the ultra low freezer,” Dr. O’Hara’s AI assistant, LYLA, announces, feminine voice carrying through the room. 

“I have a surprise for you,” Dr. O’Hara says, tugging on his lab coat as he walks towards the ultra low freezer. 

“A surprise?” You ask, setting your stuff down at the assistant’s work space. 

There’s the beep of a passcode being entered and the heavy freezer door being opened and shut. He’s holding a tray of cryovials, the contents varying in color. He sets the tray on a bench top near your desk and pulls one out, holding it up to the light.

“Isolated arachnoid mutagen,” he says. Your mouth drops open in shock. You rush forward, pressing in close to stare up at the vial with him. 

“You’re kidding,” you whisper. He hands the vial to you, fingers brushing yours. You hold it between your thumb and index finger to inspect the suspension, red in color with tiny flecks of black. “Dr. O’Hara, this is insane. How did you even get this?”

“A guy owed me a favor,” he says. You glance up at his face and you’re suddenly very aware of how close your bodies are. One deep breath and your chest would probably graze his, and did you just imagine his eyes dropping to your lips? 

“That’s one hell of a favor,” you murmur, stepping back. “You want me to work on the extraction?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“You say that like I’m not your research assistant. You can tell me to do anything.” Dr. O’Hara’s eyes go wide and you cough. “I mean, you know, lab related. Research stuff. Yeah. I’ll get started on this. LYLA? Power up the centrifuge and thermocycler, please.”

“Centrifuge is online. Thermocycler will reach optimal processing temperature in t-minus five minutes,” LYLA replies.

You set up all the necessary supplies and prepare the sample for the thermocycler, going through the motions that are now part of your muscle memory - extract, vortex, centrifuge, extract, wash, set in ice. You set your tray of samples into the thermocycler and remove your gloves to hit the start button.

________

Miguel watches you run the PCR test, fixated on the confidence with which you complete each step and your words from earlier continue to echo in his head.

“You can tell me to do anything.”

Dios mío, he thinks. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to will away the possibilities that anything could entail. 

“Sequence results are available. Would you like to review now?” LYLA asks. 

“Display,” Miguel says. You spin on your stool to view the hologram of the spliced DNA you prepared. He notices an issue immediately.

“Fuck,” you hiss, stepping up to the control screen and spinning the model. “There’s a deletion.”

“You knew there was a risk of that.” 

You zoom in on the model DNA strand, a broken gap shown in the mutation. “I know there was a risk, but it should have worked.”

Miguel crosses his arms and watches as you bring up the transillumination image of the DNA you had attempted to merge with a human sample. “You wanted it to work. Science is finite. There is no room for should.”

You glance at him. You look like you’re about to say something when the thermocycler beeps and he’s left to wonder what you would have said as you busy yourself with removing your tray of DNA samples. He leans against the bench as you assemble the agarose gel for electrophoresis. 

“Tell me, why do you think there was a deletion?” He asks. 

“The mutagen was incompatible with the human strand,” you murmur, adding dye to your vials. “Just the same as it has been the last dozen times.”

You’ve loaded the wells of the gel with your sample and set it in the tank, closing the lid and turning on the power supply. Miguel takes the remaining tray of arachnid samples to the freezer while your procedure runs. He understands your frustration, he’s run his fair share of failed experiments after all.

After about an hour, the hum of the electrical current from the electrophoresis tank shuts off. Miguel, who had been reviewing a journal submission for El Origen de la Genética Mutante, joins you at the bench as you remove your gel and set it on the UV transilluminator.

“LYLA, scan and project,” you ask the AI assistant. Miguel stands behind you, looking at the DNA bands you’ve generated. He’s momentarily distracted by the fact that he’s so close he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume, something citrusy that reminds him of summer.

You jump suddenly, back colliding with his chest. His hands come up to grip your waist, steadying you as you turn to face him, face lit up in the brightest grin.

“Miguel, look. This arachnid mutagen. It’s a potential match for insertion!” You say excitedly. “It has the same length as the deletion seen with the scorpion mutagen.”

“LYLA, show the current projection against the scorpion scan,” he says. The two images appear side by side and it’s clear that the band of arachnid mutagen fits definitively in a space that appears void in the scorpion samples. “Mierda.”

“You see it, right?” You ask. It’s then that Miguel realizes he’s still got his hands on your waist. He flexes his fingers experimentally, watching as your eyes go the slightest bit darker at the pressure.

“I can see it,” he murmurs. He wants so desperately to lean in closer, to back your body up until you’re pressed between the wall and his body, nowhere to go as his lips explore yours.

But he doesn’t. He drops his hands and puts much needed space between your bodies. He clears his throat.

“Prepare a combined sample,” Miguel says. You blink, checking your watch.

“It’s almost nine. Running a new combined sample would mean we’re here until close to midnight.”

“I’m familiar with how time passes, sí.”

“Are you sure you want—“

Miguel sighs, placing his hands on his hips. “You’re on the verge of one of the greatest scientific discoveries in the last decade. Do you think I give a shit about having to stay late? What kind of mentor would I be if I told you, ‘Oh just wait until Monday to change the scientific world’?”

“One with a work-life balance, probably,” you reply with a giggle. Miguel raises his eyebrows at you. “Okay, okay, combined sample. I’m on it.”

As you rush around the lab, it hits him that you called him Miguel. Not Dr. O’Hara. He’s not sure what that means but he’s certain he wants to hear his name from your lips again.

_______

Dr. O’Hara orders food while your new combined sequence runs, begrudgingly agreeing to a half pineapple and half sausage pizza to split. You’re sitting outside of the lab in the empty hallway, pizza box between you as you eat the slices over grease stained napkins. 

“What are your plans for after graduation?” Dr. O’Hara asks. You shrug.

“Probably get my doctorate. No one takes you seriously in this field without one.”

He frowns. “You’re on the cusp of a major breakthrough, one that could change our understanding of genetic modifications and mutants as we know it.”

“Yeah, and it’s coming from your lab. You’ll get listed as the first author, that’s how this goes.” You pick at your pizza crust, tearing the bread into tiny pieces that you sweep back into the box. 

“I won’t let that happen. If this works, you’ll be the first name on that paper,” Dr. O’Hara says vehemently. “Te lo prometo.”

You smile, caught in his gaze for a brief moment before an alarm rings from his watch. LYLA announces, “Sequencing complete.”

Dr. O’Hara stands, holding a hand out to you. You grasp his broad palm and he pulls you up with ease, the force of it making you stumble slightly. You press a hand to his chest to steady yourself, marveling at how solid he feels beneath your palm. 

“Sorry. Slipped,” you murmur.

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you with a crease between his brow and storms in his eyes. His watch beeps again and he releases your hand to silence it, the spell broken between you. 

He unlocks the lab doors and you join him at the holoprojector, taking a deep breath. Dr. O’Hara brings up the sequence analysis, the hologram coming to life in the space between you. Your eyes scan the model, checking for gaps, deletions, frayed nucleotides, anything that could mean your procedure didn’t work.

You turn the projection this way and that, looking at it from every angle. You scan the result output reading, eyes jumping to the green SEQUENCING SUCCESSFUL text at the bottom. 

You turn to face Dr. O’Hara, eyes wide with surprise. “It worked.”

“It did,” he replies. 

“It worked,” you say again. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, your grin so wide it hurts your cheeks as you rush forward shouting, “It worked!”

Dr. O’Hara’s arms open to catch you, wrapping around your waist as he lifts you from the ground and spins you. He’s smiling, a rare sight for such a serious man, and it makes your heart pound in your chest as you stare up into his face.

“Dr. O’Hara?” You ask as he sets you down, his arms still wrapped tight around your back. “What—“

His lips collide with yours, stealing your breath from your lungs and your words from your brain as you melt against his broad body. The kiss is anything but gentle, with Miguel acting like a man starved as his tongue sweeps into your mouth.

“Dr. O’Hara—“

“Lo juro por Dios, if you call me that one more time,” he growls, lips trailing down your neck with wet kisses, “Miguel. Say it.”

“M-Miguel,” you whimper. He smiles against your neck before sinking his teeth against your pulse point, making you gasp. 

“That’s right,” he says, lifting his head. His brown eyes have gone dark and he’s smirking as his hands find the hem of your blouse, fingertips ghosting across the skin of your abdomen and dipping beneath the waist of your jeans. “Tell me what you want, arañita.”

Rather than trust your voice, you bring your own hands to his shirt collar, working at the buttons of his dress shirt as he opens the fly of your pants. He slips his hand lower just as you reach the last button of his shirt, revealing the tight white t-shirt that outlines his impressive chest.

His fingers rub you over your panties and you feel your knees buckle at the delicious friction. Miguel chuckles, removing his hand to grip the backs of your thighs and lift you against him, your legs wrapping around his trim waist and your hands holding onto his shoulders. He sets you down by his desk, reaching around you to sweep the surface clean, pens and paper falling to the floor.

“In a rush are we?” You say with a laugh. Miguel raises an eyebrow at you.

“Cállate.” He kneels before you, lifting each foot to remove your shoes before turning you to face the desk with his hands on your hips. He grasps the waist of your jeans and shimmies the material down over your hips. When they’re pooled around your ankles, his warm palms grip each ass cheek roughly, spreading you open. “This pussy is even prettier than I imagined,” he groans.

“You think about my pussy a lot, Dr. O’Hara?” You ask innocently. A palm lands a smack to your ass cheek, heat blooming across your skin as you gasp.

“Don’t play dumb, baby, I know you’ve thought about this just as much. You think I can’t see it. Trust me, I can see you watching me in class with those pretty little lips wrapped around your pen, wishing it was something else. Isn’t that right?”

You gasp as he runs his thick fingers through your soaked folds, reaching forward only enough to graze your clit without giving it the attention you desperately want. He leans himself over you, his chest pressed to your back and his lips grazing your ear as he says, “Answer me.”

“Yes, yes,” you pant, the confession earning you that delicious friction, his fingers drawing messy circles around the sensitive nub. He withdraws too soon for your liking, a whine falling from your lips that he shushes, his warm breath on your pussy. You turn your head to look over your shoulder, surprised to find him on his knees.

As you watch, he spreads your cheeks once more before leaning in, licking from your clit to your entrance with a rough groan. Your head drops down, hitting the surface of the desk with a thump as he eats you out like a man who’s found water in a desert. The sounds echoing in the lab are downright indecent, deep groans of appreciation against your cunt and desperate whines from your lips.

“Miguel,” you moan, unable to keep your hips still as his tongue drives you closer to the cliff’s edge of release. “Miguel, I’m gonna cum!”

The man only grips your hips harder, fingers digging deep as he holds you still and doubles his efforts. The thread you’re hanging on by snaps, sending you falling into ecstasy as your muscles go tight and your breath leaves you in a shout of his name as you unravel. 

He pulls away only long enough to stand and turn you to face him, lifting you so that you’re sitting on the edge of the desk, legs spread by his body. He wastes no time slipping two thick fingers inside of your still fluttering cunt, his grin sharp as he sets a pace that has you trying to wiggle away to escape the overstimulation.

“Ah, Miguel!” You yelp, trying to shut your legs. His free hand shoves one thigh wide, pressing it to the desk. “What–”

“Cum for me again, I need to see your face this time,” he demands. He curls his fingers, pressing against your front wall with each drag of his hand from your body. 

“I can’t!”

“What was it you said to me earlier? I can tell you to do anything?” He curls his fingers harder, focusing his efforts on a spot that has you squirming, desperate to get away and to cum in equal measure. “I’m telling you to cum again, arañita, so be a good girl and do as I say.”

Your orgasm crashes over you in a wave, the tightness in your abdomen unraveling as you clench around his fingers. His movements slow as you try to catch your breath until he’s withdrawing, leaving you feeling disparagingly empty.

“Mirame,” Miguel says. You lift your head, pushing yourself up on your elbows and watching as he unbuckles his belt. “You made a mess, baby.”

You feel your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you notice the wet stains on the front of his gray slacks. The feeling is short lived, however, as Miguel unbuttons his pants and pushes them down his thighs along with his boxers, kicking them to the side as he reaches behind his head and pulls his t-shirt off. You’re blown away by how stunning he is, broad shoulders and chest that lead to sculpted abs and a defined adonis belt that draws your eyes to his thick and intimidatingly long cock.

“There’s no way that’s going to fit,” you tell him nervously.

“Why don’t we test that hypothesis?” He asks, taking himself in hand. You blink at him.

“Did…did you just make a joke?” Laughter bubbles up your chest until it’s spilling into the room, your shoulders shaking with the force of it. Miguel takes himself in hand, notching the broad head of his length to your dripping entrance and sliding inside the barest amount, just the tip, but it has your laughter morphing into gasps.

“Mierda,” he murmurs, gaze fixed where your bodies connect. “So fucking tight, arañita.”

You feel like he’s splitting you apart, the stretch deep and all consuming as he fits himself inside of you, drawing back after each inch and slowly thrusting back in and giving you more of his cock in the process.

“You’re so close,” he tells you. “You’re doing so good for me. Tell me how it feels.”

“It feels so fucking good, Miguel,” you answer honestly. “I’m so full.”

“Fucking right you are,” he growls. His hands shove your blouse up, bunching the fabric under your armpits to expose your breasts. He tugs the cups of your bra down before leaning forward, the last bit of his length slipping inside of you as his lips wrap around a pert nipple and his hand gropes the opposite breast. 

Your back arches at all the sensation - the fullness and stretch of him inside of you, the warmth of his mouth and the pinch of his fingers. He moves his mouth to your other breast and looks up at you through dark lashes with darker eyes as he licks the taut peak while holding your gaze.

His hips draw back, the drag of each inch from your body exquisite torture until he slams into you, the force of it sliding you up the desk. You cry out, your hands gripping his shoulders and your fingernails leaving crescent shaped indents as you cling to him.

Miguel stands, his arms looping beneath your thighs so that the backs of your knees rest across his forearms, spreading you open as he picks up his pace. He looks down at your body like it’s his greatest discovery.

“Fuck, fuck, te sientes tan bien,” he growls. 

“Miguel,” you moan, “please, please, please!”

“What are you begging for, arañita? Tell me.” 

“Wanna cum, please, Miguel,” you beg. He drops your legs, reaching up to wrap a hand around the back of your neck, urging you to sit up. You keep one hand planted on the desk behind you, the other diving into his thick, dark hair, pulling at the strands.

He drags his strong nose along your jaw as he murmurs, “Greedy girl, but I’ll give you what you need. Won’t I?”

“Uh huh,” you moan in response. His other hand settles at the base of your throat and his eyes hold a question that has your pussy clenching around him in anticipation.

His palm creeps up, strong fingers wrapping around your delicate throat, squeezing the sides the slightest bit. Your eyes roll back at the pressure.

“Look at me,” Miguel demands, “look at me while I make you cum again with my hand around your pretty throat.”

You gasp for air as he pounds into you, your release sparkling at the edges of your vision. It explodes like a supernova across your nerves, your muscles tightening around him and making him moan, a deep rumble that you echo as his movements grow erratic.

He slams deep inside of you, cock pulsing and filling you with warmth as he groans your name, head dropped to your shoulder. You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as the sweat on your skin cools and you run your fingers through his hair.

“That was—“

“Perfecto,” he finishes, lifting his head and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, one that has your heart pounding even harder than the lust filled ones from earlier. “It’s late. Let’s get this cleaned up and get you home. I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you argue. He scowls at you as you continue to say, “No, seriously, you don’t need to go out of your way—“

“Will you shut up for a minute?” Miguel asks. He holds your face in his hands as he says, “Get dressed. I’m driving you home.”

He steps back, the absence of him making you feel empty as you carefully stand from the desk on shaky legs. He hands you your jeans and you look around in confusion.

“Have you seen my underwear?” You ask.

“Hm? No, I don’t see them,” he hums, buttoning his slacks. The stain from earlier has blessedly faded. 

You shrug, pulling your jeans on and fixing your blouse. Miguel cleans up the stuff he’d knocked from the desk, putting it all back in haphazard piles and grabbing his bag. He holds his hand out to you.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. He must sense the hesitation you’re feeling when you don’t immediately grab his hand because he steps close, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “No one will see us. It’ll be our secret.”

You nod, digging your teeth into your bottom lip. “Just this once?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it, arañita.”

The most fantastic fanart by narutoss.ramen on insta that fits the vibe of professor! miguel:

[kanmom51]

You are me I am you

You know how sometimes when you are lying in bed just about to fall asleep and you have an idea or train of thoughts that leads to clarity of mind?

Well, a couple of nights back I had one of those epiphanies. I hurried to jot it down so I can come back here and put them to paper, so to speak (before forgetting them the next morning, which I surely would have).

So what's it all about, you may ask.

Well, I guess the header is a pretty good tell.

You are me I am you.

Or more so, how, for some reason, we seem to forget just how amazingly romantic that notion is, and what it truly means to JM and JK.

I will tell you where this train of thoughts started.

It started here:

I was thinking about Jikook in Sapporo, and this conversation came to mind.

Talking about how alike they are (following them doing the robot man simultaneously and telling us they watch the same content).

Yes, they don't do the You are me I am you in this instance, but I couldn't help think about it. This would be their You are me I am you on a more "we're one and the same" on a day to day basis kind of way.

And they are pretty much one and the same. So many similarities.

Is there any surprise they just FIT one another? One might think they were actually made for each other.

Their moles:

Their IQs

Thoughts, likes, habbits:

I don't even know how to describe this one:

Knowing each other through and through.

Knowing what the other thinks without words - a type of telepathy.

And:

When it comes to You are me I am you, they made it their own. Something that symbolizes them and their relationship.

Used it to express their feelings for one another publicly!!

Came by @haedalkoo 's post just today, kismet I guess, explaining the translation of JK's Tweet:

They have used it so much since JM's Serendipity. Many times doing so playfully.

All while claiming it as their own.

And perhaps because of that, I feel so many are either unaware or perhaps have forgotten over time the true meaning of You are me I am you, the deep romantic sentiment attached to it, and just how amazingly romantic those two are by claiming it as their own.

So, where does "You are me I am you" even come from?

Seeing that there are quite a few new Army and Jikookers around, I guess another short history lesson is required here. The origin story so to speak.

The line/saying originates from a 2016 song "You are me I am you" by Zico.

You are me, I am you I am you, you are me If our hearts are the same Two will become each other You are me I am you We make a pretty picture Who came up with the word “cringe”

There was talk about JK & JM using a reference to the song's MV wearing matching plasters during a Puma fansign in April 2016.

*Do I remind that this is way before JM's Serendipity came to pass?

JM saying he was given the band aid from JK (again, a reference to the song's MV).

What a coincidence...

I dare say this was not a coincidence, quite like JM tells us in Serendipity.

You know, the song that same exact line found it's way into....

Yes JM did not write the lyrics to Serendipity, but we have seen their writing process, we've heard from them and seen that the members have input and are consulted at times, especially when it's their solo songs. Remember JK's Begin? Such a personal song. So JK, right? Well, JK didn't write Begin. RM is credited though, just like he is for Serendipity. Does anyone doubt that JK had a input into the lyrics of Begin. I don't think so!!!

All this is no coincidence Just, just, by my feeling The whole world is different from yesterday Just, just, with your joy When you called me I became your flower As if we were waiting We bloom until we ache Maybe it's the providence of the universe It just had to be that You know, I know You are me, I am you

Serendipity is a love song.

One would say the ultimate love song.

Me being one of those.

Me also being one of those who say that JM took ownership over Serendipity making this his love ode to JK (and then came Letter...).

This was theirs.

And You are me I am you is theirs.

They even claimed copyright over it.

They were kidding.

Or were they?

Those two have been so friggin loud over the years with this.

JM and JK are the embodiment of You are me I am you. They took ownership over it and wore it ever so loud and proud.

They obviously had so much fun with it over the years.

And because they have been so loud about it and mostly in a playful manor, at times we forget the deep romantic meaning of it all.

But then you have those moments when it's clearly just for them, more intimate. It's quieter or softer or without realizing it's caught on camera, or embedded in their own lyrics with so much meaning or just so loud and emotional that it just hits you right in the face.

Those times when it's less about playfulness (you know, at times it can be romantic and playful too) and more about THEM.

The romantic undertone is just so so obvious.

This was done for no one but themselves!! Definitley not for us!!

Those moments where they remember where it came from and what it means to them.

The way JK's hand goes for JM's waist and then he moves to hold on so softly to JM's jacket.😭😭

The way the rest of the members move away, leaving them to themselves (a couple of them clearly thinking to themselves "get a bedroom").

They were both really caught up in the moment. And their embarrassment after it's over is a clear testimony to that.

I'm struggling with putting this into words... just how fucking romantic this was. Smiles on faces, teasing, flirting, giggling, and so damn romantic. And when you remember this comes on the coattail of TTU and the staging and lyrics change up...

I'm sorry. I'm just lost for words, hoping that you guys just see it, feel it. How can you not?

I can't end this without mentioning Like crazy as well.

JM may not have written Serendipity (although, again, I do believe You are me I am you has ALWAYS been theirs), but he certainly did write Like crazy.

Thinking again of how JM was struggling and what he was going through is heartbreaking. And JK's place in this song written by JM is so very loud. JM referring to another person that is with him is very loud. JM using the line "You are me I am you" in the song is very loud.

As for JK and his feelings for Like crazy, well I do think he has mixed feelings about that song. He loves loves loves SMF pt. 2. It's JM's catharsis song, his healing song, and JK is mad about it (not to mention the MV and just how damn sexy JM is there). But Like crazy, that one hits home for him. It's a reminder of hard times, emotional times, times that perhaps, just like JM tells us in the song, JM was hurting and wasn't allowing that other person with him, "the moon with you in its arms...forever you and I..." to save him:

This will break me This is gonna break me (Break me) No, don’t you wake me (Wake me) I wanna stay in this dream, don't save me Don't you try to save me (Save me) I need a way we (Way we) I need a way we can dream on (On, on, on)

JK was that bystander. Can you imagine that feeling of helpless, unable to pull JM out of the darkness?

And being reminded of that every time you hear the song.

JK's reaction here to JM playing Like crazy.

It's not about not loving the song. It's not about not loving JM or supporting his art. It's about the emotional baggage that comes with the song.

Try and remember the times we got to hear JM's songs during JK's lives. The one song that JK put off (in a sense) listening to on camera was Like crazy. First time he played it in one of his lives was when JM was on the show JK was watching and JM sang it in English!! Next time he listened to it was months after the song was released and after AYS CT (what they call season 1, lol) was shot. And even then, when he played it he did the whole comical intro and dance.

How did I get here from You are me I am you?

Good question.

Oh yes! JM's Like crazy, using You are me I am you in the lyrics, it being such a personal song and one that hits hard for JK as well. The romantic undertone to You are me I am you. That one person that JM is with and doesn't want to wake from the dream he's in with that person by his side (awaken to the reality of the pandemic and his emotional struggles).

JM and JK have told us and shown us oh so many times they are "You are me I am you".

The personification of "You are me I am you"!!

How do people still not see this????

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part 17

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

Part 17

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

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

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

“Lyla?” you say.

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

“Morning… Is Miguel…” you trail off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Those shoulders.

They’ve carried too much for far too long.

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

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

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

Including you.

But surely, that’s not it. Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time heals all.

Usually.

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

And today is still not that day.

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

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

Are you watching the sunset, too?

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

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

It reminds you of Miguel’s eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m at the gym.” - M

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wait, and wait. And wait.

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

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

“Can you please turn off all the lights?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Miguel. After everything that happened with Gabriella.”

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

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

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

“Is Miguel still at the gym?”

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

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

”Lyla?”

“Yes?”

“… I know I shouldn’t ask…”

“You want to know what’s happening.”

“Yes.”

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

Her.

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

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

Suddenly everything clicks into place.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Darkness.”

You nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tired, you start the day knowing what today is.

Gabby’s birthday.

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

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

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

I’m at HQ. - Miguel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re ignoring Jess’s message.

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

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

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

Today? Things are different.

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

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

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

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

“Ben,” you say, recognizing him instantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Miguel?” you try again.

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

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

“Miguel,” you say once more, gently.

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

“Don’t,” you say. “Don’t apologize.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, of course,” you whisper.

“I don’t want to be here right now.”

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

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

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

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

-♡-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s guilty until proven innocent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

“You… do?”

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

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

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

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

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

You gesture to the kitchen. “C’mon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was her favorite song of hers?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so, the two of you sing to Gabby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod gently. “If you wish me to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply.

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that necessary?”

“It was a jerk move.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel and you chuckle.

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

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

“L?” Lyla repeats, offended.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes light up at the idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel’s face softens even more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” Miguel asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will you?” he asks.

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

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

“Yes, boss?” she replies, knowing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dulzura?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel hums. “My nightstand.”

“Close to you,” you reply, nodding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eugh, no carrots, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’ll never know now.

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

Just maybe.

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

“You know how it starts!”

He hears Gabby’s voice in his head, even the little huff. Right. Like this. His fingers move, playing the notes for the first time since he lost his daughter. For a moment, he thinks he messed up, but no, his memory doesn’t betray him, and so his fingers move, as if they had a mind of their own.

You watch as he begins to play, familiar to your ears now thanks to the video. Your eyes remain on him, not missing even a second of this. For a moment, you wonder if you’re imagining it, but no, Miguel really is playing the guitar and playing Gabby’s song, at least the beginning of it.

You suddenly realize what he’s trying to do, just as Lyla does, too because a second later, Lyla displays a photo of Gabby, one of the new ones, for Miguel.

Miguel is going to play and sing the song for her, on her birthday.

Holding your breath, you watch Miguel lift his gaze to the screen, still playing the guitar before he begins.

“Luna gardenia de plata, que en mi serenata te vuelves canción. Tú que me viste cantando, me ves hoy llorando mi desilusión,” Miguel sings softly, staring at his daughter’s photo, his expression gentle yet with a trace of mourning and grief. “Luna de Xelajú, que supiste alumbrar, en mis noches de pena por una morena de dulce mirar,” he continues, his gaze softening and his mouth pouting.

You remain still, almost as still as a statue itself. You have heard Miguel sing before when he does so under his breath, sometimes unaware of it, but nothing compare to this. If his voice sounds beautiful in the video, it sounds angelic live. His voice travels straight to your heart.

Still playing, Miguel’s eyes fill with some tears. After so long, he’s playing and singing her song. For so long, he’s tried to not think of it, finding it to be too much for him, too soon for his grieving heart, but his very heart seems to have found today appropriate for it.

Maybe it’s another sign of him healing, Miguel doesn’t know, but he has no regrets playing it now. It feels right, so he continues, hoping that wherever Gabby is, she’s listening to him sing it at last, just for her.

“En mi vida no habrá, más cariño que tú, mi amor. Porque no eres ingrata, mi Luna de plata, luna de Xelajú. Luna que me alumbró, en mis noches de amor… [in my life there won’t be more love than you, my love. Because you’re not ungrateful, my moon of silver, moon of Xelajú. Moon that lightened me up, in my nights of love]” Miguel sings, his fingers slowing down as he pauses for a few seconds. “Hoy consuelas la pena… Por una morena… que me… Abandonó [today you console the sorrow… for a brunette, or girl of dark complexion… that… abandoned me],” he sings the end in a whisper, a single tear rolling down his face as his fingers play the last notes, finishing the song.

He lowers the guitar to his lap slowly, still gazing at Gabby’s photo. He doesn’t bother to wipe away the tear that slowly trails down his face. Instead, he lets it run its course until it sinks into his skin. Miguel inhales heavily and sighs. Something in him, so deep, settling in. It’s a certain kind of peace.

At last, several seconds later, you sigh as well. You didn’t realize you held your breath throughout the entirety of the song, but you did. You didn’t want to miss a single moment of Miguel singing to Gabby; from hearing his gentle, soothing voice.

“That was beautiful,” you whisper quietly, looking at Gabby’s photo.

Miguel smiles slowly. “Thank you,” he whispers back. “I haven’t played, sang, nor heard it since then. The last time was before I lost her. Even the simple thought of it, the melody in my head - was too much for me,” Miguel admits, gathering his thoughts. “If she was alive, I know she’d be changing. The things she once liked, maybe she wouldn’t be much into anymore. Maybe this song wouldn’t be her favorite anymore. There’s a chance… I know, but even then, before I decided to play it, I thought maybe, just maybe, from wherever she’s at, keeping me safe, she might enjoy me playing her once favorite song from down here on Earth… I hope she heard it.”

You smile softly, still staring at the photo and think about Miguel’s words. Maybe Gabby’s music taste would’ve changed by now. Perhaps “Luna de Xelajú” would no longer be her favorite song, and maybe it’s wishful thinking, but a part of you believes that Gabby would’ve loved the beautiful gesture from her dad regardless. And for some reason, you also can’t help but think that maybe she did hear it tonight.

The two flickering birthday candles from earlier come back to mind. That was rather strange. You wonder silently. Maybe the two most important people in Miguel’s life, visited him tonight in their own way.

“I have a feeling she did,” you reply softly.

Miguel turns to face you, shifting his body slightly. “You may think I’m a little bit crazy,” he starts, making you tilt your head towards him with a raised eyebrow, letting him know you don’t. He smiles a bit. “The flickering candles.”

You nod. “I was just thinking about that. Two candles,” you reply.

“Two candles,” Miguel repeats. “Gabby. Gabriel.” He smiles a bit at that. “You don’t think I’m… overthinking it? Maybe with my messed up sleep schedule, I’m just… Not making sense.”

“You’re allowed to believe that,” you state gently. “I’m never going to judge you. I had my fair share of moments in which I felt like Peter and my parents were - leaving me little signs. I also thought about them, you know.” You shift slightly to face him better. “About Gabby and Gabriel.”

Miguel smiles, his head dipping to face the floor. It’s reassuring. He straightens up to look at you again.

“I know I already said it earlier, but, I want to say I’m sorry again. For the way I behaved these last few days.”

You prepare yourself to reply but Miguel lifts his finger, stopping you.

“I don’t want to… Push you away nor make you feel like I’m trying to when I’m not. I have,” Miguel pauses, thinking about that mutual agreement between you some weeks ago.

“We do. We have each other,” Miguel said, before adding, “Always.”

“Always,” you replied.

He also thinks about how you’ve only been a part of his life for a few years. Two, to be exact. It’s a realization that for some reason feels so wrong to him. He wishes you could’ve been in his life sooner, but there’s no time machine to do that, or Miguel would’ve already used it to bring back Gabby and Gabriel. There’s no changing the past, unfortunately, but he has control over some aspects of the future, and he’s already made up his mind. You may have entered his life only two years ago, but he’ll try his absolute best to make sure you stick for the rest of his - until his last breath.

“I don’t want to ever…” he tries and clears his throat. “I don’t want to - I’d like for you - stick around.” He sighs and runs a quick hand through his hair. “I’m not trying to push you - away. Ever.”

You smile at that. “To be honest, it’s going to take a lot for you to push me away. I’m afraid… You’re stuck with me,” you say.

He laughs softly, the sound making your heart swell. “Like that’s a bad thing,” Miguel answers.

“Well… Just saying, so you don’t complain later on.”

“I could never,” Miguel replies, smiling softly.

“Lyla, I hope you recorded that,” you reply, earning yourself a chuckle from Miguel, one that makes you chuckle, too before you both settle into a comfortable silence.

The holographic screen is still available, the same photo of Gabby displayed with one of the sweetest smiles you’ve ever seen.

It’s several minutes later when Miguel breaks the silence. “Tomorrow I’m printing all the photos.” And then remembering, he adds. “Thank you, Lyla. For recovering everything. I… I had no idea there were more photos and videos. Thank you.”

“You got it, Miguel,” Lyla says, looking between him and you, happy that she was able to restore everything. “I’m heading off now. I have some things to work on. Good night.”

“Night,” Miguel replies.

“Good night,” you answer before she disappears.

“Are you tired?” Miguel asks gently.

“Not a lot,” you reply, even though last night you only slept for a few hours. You know Miguel slept even less. “You?”

He shakes his head slightly. “No. Not yet.” He picks up the guitar and plays a few strings, ones you don't recognize.

You remain by his side, letting time go by in each other’s company. Despite the emotions, the mood is lighthearted. Miguel is no longer as quiet and he even offers a few more smiles as the hours go by, smiles that actually reach his eyes.

As time slips by, you notice Miguel grow sleepier and sleepier, which is not surprising. At some point you find him nodding off, so you suggest that he goes to bed but he declines, stating he’s not sleepy yet.

Except, he is and he ends up falling asleep sitting next to you. In a matter of minutes, you grab a pillow from upstairs and your blanket before you reach him. You talk to him softly, waking him enough to talk to him.

“Lay down,” you say, watching the way he looks at you sleepily.

“Mm - no,” he replies, sleepily.

“You’ve fallen asleep. Lay down,” you try again. “Please?”

He sighs, yawning. “I wasn’t sleepy.”

You hold back from chuckling. “I totally believe you. Now, lay down. Please.”

He sighs again, all sleepy and stubborn, but finally lays down.

“Sleep,” you whisper firmly. “Rest, Migs.”

“Are you going upstairs?” he whispers sleepily, his eyes fluttering as he gazes at you, with a hint of a pout.

You smile tenderly at him, the sight of his sleepy features and voice warming your heart.

“I'm staying here,” you reply as you cover him with your blanket, wondering if the reason why he’s asking is because he'll like for you to stay.

“Mm,” he hums sleepily, satisfied with your answer. “Thank you.” He sighs softly, relaxing and settling.

“Lift your head, Miguel.”

“Mhm.” Miguel does so slightly, more asleep than awake now.

You fix the pillow behind his head, your fingers accidentally brushing the small curls on the nape of his neck including the sensitive skin there, eliciting a gentle hum from Miguel, one of contentment, of satisfaction.

You freeze for a second, the sound surprising you. After a second or two, you smile and finish fixing it, pulling the blanket higher up.

“Sleep, Migs,” you whisper tenderly.

“Mhm, dulzura,” Miguel mumbles, dozing off at last.

You take a seat next to him. The holographic screen is still available, displaying the same photo from earlier.

You get comfortable and stare at the photo, thinking about all the new ones, about the videos. You got more glimpses of Miguel's life with his daughter. More glimpses of him being a father.

Turning your attention back to Miguel and taking in all his features, you think once more.

He was meant to be a dad.

You wonder if there's a chance of him opening his heart to someone one day. Of falling in love and having a child. Or, maybe two, or three. Maybe even four.

With thoughts of the possibility of Miguel building a family with someone, you fall asleep yourself.

It's many hours later when you wake up naturally, without the need of an alarm. To your relief, you find Miguel still sleeping peacefully by your side.

Standing up, you notice his sleeping face, once again remembering how similar it is to Gabby's. You hum to yourself, heart swelling with tenderness, before deciding to make coffee.

You go through yesterday's events silently as you prepare the pot and set up the mugs, opting for some simple ones today instead of grabbing more colorful ones, like the mug you gifted Miguel for Father’s Day due to the circumstances of Gabby’s birthday. You wait patiently, remaining quiet to avoid waking up Miguel and think to yourself. You can't believe that all this time there were more photos and videos of Gabby, lost but thankfully recovered and restored by Lyla.

“Good morning,” Miguel says entering the kitchen, his voice still laced with sleep.

“Good morning,” you reply, offering Miguel a smile. “Coffee is almost ready.”

He nods before running a hand through his hair, it being a little disheveled from his sleep. His movement slows down as he vaguely remembers your fingers brushing his hair and neck, a memory that makes his cheeks feel warmer. “I could use some, muchas gracias [thank you].”

“Always,” you reply, not noticing the gentle redness on his cheeks.

He leans on the counter, still waking up and trying to gather his thoughts. He looks over at the coffee and the mugs, remembering. He moves to where the mugs are found and finds the one. It’s the one he’s been using since you gifted it to him; his mug from Father’s Day with the bees. He retrieves it and moves towards you, placing it on the counter near the two you already have out.

“My favorite,” Miguel says looking at it, still so touched by your gifts, bringing a smile to your face.

So, you serve him coffee in that mug and watch him drink it, raising the mug you made with your own hands to his lips. It’s how you also notice the bracelet you gifted him with Gabby’s name on his wrist, another sight that makes you happy. It seems Miguel really liked the gifts.

“Do you want to come with me?” Miguel asks, lowering the mug. “I’m going to the flower market.”

“If it’s alright,” you say, remembering Miguel’s plans to buy flowers for Gabby to place on the altar. “I’d like to.”

Miguel nods. “I’d like for you to come.”

After drinking your mugs of coffee in peace, you both get ready and dress in civilians clothes. For the second time, you borrow the simple holographic suit Miguel allowed you to borrow months ago when your apartment building caught on fire and your suit was dirty and smelling of smoke.

You both slip out of the penthouse and swing through the city before most of the people of Nueva York are awake, before the city is truly buzzing with life. On an alleyway, you both deactivate the suits and step out onto the street wearing your normal clothes to search through the flower market.

You walk around side by side, admiring the different types of flowers available, trying to find the perfect ones for Gabby. You eventually find bouquets that seem to attract both of you; a lovely combination of white and lilac flowers. Together, you choose the best bouquet out of the bunch before continuing to walk around. Despite your mission being accomplished, it seems Miguel is in no rush to leave.

As you both continue to walk around, his gaze turns to you, noticing the way you eye certain flowers with glee and interest. You even stop at certain displays to take a closer look, so Miguel stops to look at them with you, sticking by your side while holding the bouquet he’s already bought.

His brows shoot up when he sees the owner, an older lady, of the display talk to you, inviting you to see further in the back when you stop on theirs.

You shoot him an apologetic smile as the woman enthusiastically talks to you about other options, so he smiles back with a look that lets you know that it’s okay.

“Mujeres. ¿Verdad? [Women. Right?]”

Miguel turns, a little startled by the sudden voice. He finds a man, a much older one.

“¿Disculpe? [Sorry?]” Miguel replies, towering over the man.

“Mujeres divinas. ¿Que haríamos sin ellas? Hermosas. Y mira como les encantan las flores [Divine women. What would we do without them? Beautiful. And look how much they love flowers],” the man says with a smile. “Parece que ya le llevas un arreglo pero le gustan mucho las flores. Así esta mi esposa [looks like you already have an arrangement (bouquet )but she likes flowers. That’s how my wife is],” he says, nodding to the owner. Miguel quickly realizes the owner is the man’s wife. “You know, she pointed you guys out from the little early crowd.”

Miguel clears his throat, looking down at the bouquet of flowers. His mind immediately puts together what the man is insinuating, or rather what he believes.

“She did?” Miguel questions.

“She said that was us thirty-five years ago.”

“Oh,” Miguel says simply for a moment, struck by the fact that two more people have confused him and you for a couple in two weeks, remembering the lady from the grocery store. “We’re… just friends. Best friends.”

The man laughs as his wife and you walk back to them, talking. “That’s how my wife and I started. Friendship is one of the most essential foundations for a blissful and long marriage, mijo [my son]. Take it from me. Thirty-two years of marriage, three kids later. Something to think about, eh? Take care, mijo, and take care of that one, too,” the man says nodding at Miguel and then at you before he withdraws to meet his wife, leaving Miguel speechless.

He watches as the couple talk to you a bit more before finally letting you free. You join his side a few seconds later, smiling.

“Sorry, Mrs. Gonzalez wanted to show me other flowers she has in the back,” you say.

“You learned her name,” Miguel states.

“She introduced herself,” you reply with a shrug. “She was very excited about showing me some flowers. I couldn’t say no.”

“Did you like them?” he asks.

“They were lovely,” you answer, looking at a certain bouquet that caught your eye.

He nods and before you can say anything, he talks to the owners in Spanish.

“Me quiero llevar uno de esos arreglos, por favor. ¿Cuanto es? [I want to take one of those bouquets, please. How much?]”

You watch as the transaction is quickly made between Miguel and Mr. Gonzalez, the latter whispering something to Miguel that you can’t catch.

“¡Gracias, tenga un buen día, don [Thank you, have a good day, sir]!” Miguel says before walking back to you. He hands you the bouquet. “For… you. I noticed you eyeing these.”

You accept them. “Yes, these….” you reply, looking at them and feeling a little awestruck by the fact that you’re suddenly holding a bouquet of flowers bought by Miguel for you. “Thank you. I’ll pay you back. Maybe with some snacks from my universe,” you add at last, moving past the awe, as you both begin to walk.

“No paying back,” Miguel answers as he looks ahead, his tone being one that leaves no room for you argue about it. “It’s… a gift. Look, food trucks. Do you want some breakfast?” Miguel offers, changing the subject, and nodding at the food trucks as you both exit the flower market.

You end up having breakfast on some wooden picnic table under a large umbrella to shield yourselves from the sun since it’s summer now. You talk with ease, the tension from the last few days gone, at last. You both watch as the area quickly fills with more and more citizens from Nueva York, the city coming back to full life.

Instead of swinging back home in your suits, Miguel and you silently agree to walk on the way back. He carries both bouquets of flowers in his arms since he insisted on doing so before you left the picnic table. Together, you walk home, sticking by each other’s side like glue, with Miguel walking closest to the street, keeping you on the inside of the sidewalk.

Once you return home, Miguel and you head to the office room. There, you watch Miguel inject himself with that neon serum you now know about. He looks at you sheepishly as he does so.

“I forgot about it,” Miguel says placing the device down, a glow passing through his crimson eyes.

“It's understandable,” you reply, glad that Miguel is in a different mindset and taking care of this.

With that, you help Miguel print the new photos of Gabby. He makes extra copies for backup purposes, storing them in his personal home computer and multiple USB flashes, or some version of them since they look different in this dimension.

Miguel also retrieves the vase he mentioned the night before and at last, he has everything to set up his little altar for Gabby.

As he places one of the photos in the picture frame, you open the bouquet of flowers he bought for her and arrange it in his mom's vase.

When everything is ready, and the surface has been cleaned properly, you both approach the console table with the items. You stand by, holding the vase, and let Miguel work at his pace.

The photo is placed first and then the vase with pretty and fresh flowers. Miguel retrieves the guitar from where he left it last night and carefully places it next to the console table, taking a few moments to look at it.

He’s glad that it's not hidden away anymore, that he'll be able to look at it every day now. At last, he places a candle and lights it, completing the altar for now. Maybe in the future he'll change something, but right now, it's perfect.

The altar is beautiful. You love the fact that Miguel has added Gabby’s guitar, the flowers that bring such a lovely energy to the living room, but most of all, you love seeing Gabby’s photo on the console table.

And so does Miguel.

You both stand in front of the console table for several minutes, simply admiring and thinking about her in silence.

A while later, you both sit on the rooftop of Miguel’s building, peacefully. You remember that it’s a work day and that both Miguel and you are technically “late” to work by now, but you say nothing. You’re certain Miguel already knows what time it is, and that if he wanted to, both of you would’ve already been there. It seems he’s okay with being late today.

He gazes at the sky, at the soft cloud formations, thinking and unworried about making it to HQ. He trusts that the rest of the team can handle the tasks, just a few more hours, without either of you.

After some time of peaceful silence, Miguel remembers.

“How’s reconstruction going for your building?” he asks.

“It’s almost done. I think in a week or two, we should get the okay to move back in.”

Miguel almost frowns, but he keeps the same look on his face. A week or two. His chest feels heavy all of a sudden and he wonders where time went.

“That’s… Good for the building, and everyone,” Miguel forces himself to say. Sure, he’s glad that everyone will be able to go back, that you’ll have your apartment once again - the one you love so much. Hell, even he misses the comfort and coziness from it, but… Why does the idea hurt him more than he thought it would?

He gulps. In a week or two you’ll be gone, back to your universe. He places his hand on the rooftop’s ground, accidentally brushing his fingers against yours.

“Sorry,” he apologizes instantly, worried he may have squeezed some of your fingers with his larger hand.

“It’s alright,” you reply with a smile, keeping your hand where it was, unbothered.

Miguel places his hand near yours, both of you silent and thinking about your upcoming return to your apartment.

A part of you is happy your place will be available again and yet… You sigh softly, staring at the clouds just like Miguel.

Neither of you say anything else about it, equally avoiding further conversation regarding the matter without knowing.

“I know it’s barely time, but what if we stay here for lunch?” Miguel says after a while. “A homemade lunch.”

“That sounds great,” you reply. “What do you feel like eating?”

“Hmm,” Miguel hums, thinking. “What are you up to?”

You laugh. “I’m up for anything.”

“That narrows it down a lot, thank you,” Miguel says sarcastically with a soft smirk.

“Happy to help,” you reply with your own little smirk.

God, he’s going to miss having you here, Miguel suddenly thinks. He forces himself to not think of that. Not again today. He clears his throat. “Let’s head back. It’s growing hotter. We can think inside of what to cook.”

You both slip back inside the penthouse, into the cool air.

“Maybe we can make some chilaquiles [Mexican dish]?” you offer, now in the living room.

“That’s an idea,” Miguel replies as you both stop in front of Gabby’s altar once more.

You both stare at it, the candle still on.

Slowly, you offer your pinky finger. A second later without hesitation, Miguel wraps his around yours.

“Thank you for sticking around,” he says quietly. “Despite my mood.”

“Always,” you reply. “No matter what.”

Miguel gives your pinky a hug with his own. “Always.”

A minute later, you both head to the kitchen to start prepping lunch, splitting up tasks to finish sooner, leaving Gabby’s altar in the living room.

The candle’s flame flickers and dances, peacefully.

A/N: It's here!! The way life kept holding me back from writing this chapter?? But it's finally here :) I loved writing this one so much (I've loved writing every single chapter lets be real) but I've been planning the concept of you helping Miguel celebrate Gabby's birthday since part 3 when we first learned Miguel doesn't celebrate birthdays but instead, makes an ofrenda for his deceased loved ones. Can't believe we're already on part 17, or that we're even on a part 17 to begin with!

I'm going to make this as quick as possible because you've already given my fic and me so much time of your day/night, so... Some of you may or may not know but this month (July) will make one year since I started writing this story and writing fanfic again in general after several years. To be specific, I posted the first chapter on July 29th. 🥺

I seriously doubt that I'll have the next chapter by then, so I just wanted to take the time today to give you guys a huge THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart 🥹❤️ I say it again, and again, and again, but the support this story and my writing has received since I started writing fanfic again truly means so much to me!! I know I also say this a lot, but I genuinely didn't think many people would be interested to read this fanfic that initially was planned out to be only 3 or 4 parts long (lol). Almost a year later, I'm still writing and this story has turned into something so much more than I planned - so much bigger - thanks to you!! All the comments, the asks, the fanart, and you lovely people I get to interact with ... Wow!!! Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd be back to writing fanfiction, much less have it be received and loved so much!! 🥹

Special thank you to every single artist who has created fanart of Nonviolent Communication!! If you read this, I hope you know that you've made me so incredibly happy, blessed, grateful, honored, and so much more - to see such beautiful art inspired by my fic. Each time a fanart has been posted, I've screamed and cried out of excitement, and that's not exaggeration. I am beyond thankful to have the privilege of saying there's fanart for something I've written (sometimes I'm still like "no way" fr). God - my hands are shaking rn and my chest feels fuzzy. I'm a bit emotional lol, sorry, but THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! One day I may stop writing (I hope not) but please know I'm always going to cherish all the fanart (which is all saved in my computer and phone, and now tablet because it's that important to me)!!!!! 😭

I'm gonna end it here because as usual, I'm yapping in the author's note and also the tears are coming🫣 but please know, this means so much to me, and ily guys!!! Thank you for inspiring me to write for our fav Spider-Man, Miguel❤️

To celebrate a year, I'll be posting something regarding opening writing requests (for the first time) over the next week, so if you're interested, keep an eye out for my posts. I was trying to come up with something more exciting but that's all I could think of to celebrate!🤣

That's all. Thank you so much for reading again, and ily guys!! Take care!!

And for old time's sake, I still love Miguel O'Hara (even more)!!🥹

Alondra❤️

P.S. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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[megumislovedoll]

super shy? no, super lucky

⠀ ⠀— chapter 2 of the cool with you series

yn pov 3rd person

She sighed, finally finishing her test. Now, it was time to see what she got on it. She'd been lucky enough to remember her test was today just in time, but now let’s see if she was lucky enough to get a good grade despite her last minute studying, constantly leaving online classes early, and turning in assignments late. 

Which the only reason why these things would happen is because of newjeans. 

“ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh,” she whispered, her hand shaking as she reached for the refresh button—or maybe she was just being dramatic. She pressed it, and then—“YES! OH MY GOD!” she cheered, seeing her grade: a B. 

Just as she was about to scream some more, a text popped up, it was utahime reminding the group about an afternoon dance rehearsal for their new song, Supernatural.

“Right, rehearsal,” she murmured, calming down a little but still feeling the excitement. She grabbed her dance bag and was just about to leave when she caught a look at her reflection in the mirror by the door. Maybe she should actually get ready for the day—considering she’d just ran out of bed in panic earlier today and hadn’t even showered yet.

Megumi’s pov 3rd person

morning classes are done, and now he has about an hour and thirty minutes until his afternoon classes. Everyone else is out of the dorm doing something, except Toge, who’s napping on the couch. Megumi opens the fridge—nothing, besides four eggs left. "Of course," but he pulls the eggs out of the fridge and starts cooking them, which makes Toge’s big back ass wake up.

"Can I get some?" Toge asks.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because there’s only four, and you guys are always eating everything anyway."

Toge groans. Maybe a few minutes later, Megumi gets a text from Yuuta: "megumi it’s your turn to get the groceries and share some eggs with toge"

"No way you just snitched on me," Megumi says. "Shareeee, Megumi."

"You know what," he says, "since you wanna be so big..." He puts the cooked eggs onto a plate. "Have the rest. I don’t fucking care."

He moves toward the door and grabs his keys. 

"Wait, where are you going?" Toge asks.

"To get some groceries, since you wanted to tell on me," he replies, leaving the dorm.

Yn pov 3rd person 

It’s been about 15 minutes, and Uber won’t fucking work. She tried reopening the app, restarting her phone, deleting and downloading the app EVERYTHING but it won’t work. She also tried asking the other members to pick her up; half of them are already there, and the other half hasn’t seen her message.

“guess I’m just gonna have to walk.”

The walk isn’t exactly long, just a few minutes, but it’s still risky considering she could get noticed. So, she’s gonna have to wear a mask and some glasses. She went down the stairs, then out the door, walking down the street with her head down as well so she could definitely not be noticed. Amazing idea, right?

Yeah, until you bump int—

masterlist!

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[niteshade925]

April 14, Xi'an, China, Shaanxi History Museum, Qin and Han Dynasties Branch (Part 3 – Innovations and Philosophies):

(Edit: sorry this post came out so late, I got hit by the truck named life and had to get some rest, and this post in itself took some effort to research. But anyway it's finally up, please enjoy!)

A little background first, because this naming might lead to some confusions.....when you see location adjectives like "eastern", "western", "northern", "southern" added to the front of Zhou dynasty, Han dynasty, Song dynasty, and Jin/晋 dynasty, it just means the location of the capital city has changed. For example Han dynasty had its capital at Chang'an (Xi'an today) in the beginning, but after the very brief but not officially recognized "Xin dynasty" (9 - 23 AD; not officially recognized in traditional Chinese historiography, it's usually seen as a part of Han dynasty), Luoyang became the new capital. Because Chang'an is geographically to the west of Luoyang, the Han dynasty pre-Xin is called Western Han dynasty (202 BC - 8 AD), and the Han dynasty post-Xin is called Eastern Han dynasty (25 - 220 AD). As you can see here, in these cases this sort of adjective is simply used to indicate different time periods in the same dynasty.

Model of a dragonbone water lift/龙骨水车, Eastern Han dynasty. This is mainly used to push water up to higher elevations for the purpose of irrigation:

Model of a water-powered bellows/冶铁水排, Eastern Han dynasty. Just as the name implies, as flowing water pushes the water wheel around, the parts connected to the axle will pull and push on the bellows alternately, delivering more air to the furnace for the purpose of casting iron.

The Nine Chapters on the Mathematical Art/《九章算术》, Fangcheng/方程 chapter. It’s a compilation of the work of many scholars from 10 th century BC until 2 nd century AD, and while the earliest authors are unknown, it has been edited and supplemented by known scholars during Western Han dynasty (also when the final version of this book was compiled), then commented on by scholars during Three Kingdoms period (Kingdom of Wei) and Tang dynasty. The final version contains 246 example problems and solutions that focus on practical applications, for example measuring land, surveying land, construction, trading, and distributing taxes. This focus on practicality is because it has been used as a textbook to train civil servants. Note that during Han dynasty, fangcheng means the method of solving systems of linear equations; today, fangcheng simply means equation. For anyone who wants to know a little more about this book and math in ancient China, here’s an article about it. (link goes to pdf)

Diagram of a circle in a right triangle (called “勾股容圆” in Chinese), from the book Ceyuan Haijing/《测圆海镜》 by Yuan-era mathematician Li Ye/李冶 (his name was originally Li Zhi/李治) in 1248.  Note that Pythagorean Theorem was known by the name Gougu Theorem/勾股定理 in ancient China, where gou/勾 and gu/股 mean the shorter and longer legs of the right triangle respectively, and the hypotenuse is named xian/弦 (unlike what the above linked article suggests, this naming has more to do with the ancient Chinese percussion instrument qing/磬, which is shaped similar to a right triangle).  Gougu Theorem was recorded in the ancient Chinese mathematical work Zhoubi Suanjing/《周髀算经》, and the name Gougu Theorem is still used in China today.

Diagram of the proof for Gougu Theorem in Zhoubi Suanjing. The sentence on the left translates to "gou (shorter leg) squared and gu (longer leg) squared makes up xian (hypotenuse) squared", which is basically the equation a² + b² = c². Note that the character for "squared" here (mi/幂) means "power" today.

This is a diagram of Zhang Heng’s seismoscope, called houfeng didong yi/候风地动仪 (lit. “instrument that measures the winds and the movements of the earth”).  It was invented during Eastern Han dynasty, but no artifact of houfeng didong yi has been discovered yet, this is presumably due to constant wars at the end of Eastern Han dynasty.  All models and diagrams that exist right now are what historians and seismologists think it should look like based on descriptions from Eastern Han dynasty. This diagram is based on the most popular model by Wang Zhenduo that has an inverted column at the center, but this model has been widely criticized for its ability to actually detect earthquakes. A newer model that came out in 2005 with a swinging column pendulum in the center has shown the ability to detect earthquakes, but has yet to demonstrate ability to reliably detect the direction where the waves originate, and is also inconsistent with the descriptions recorded in ancient texts. What houfeng didong yi really looks like and how it really works remains a mystery.

Xin dynasty bronze calipers, the earliest sliding caliper found as of now (not the earliest caliper btw). This diagram is the line drawing of the actual artifact (right).

Ancient Chinese "Jacquard" loom (called 提花机 or simply 花机 in Chinese, lit. "raise pattern machine"), which first appeared no later than 1st century BC. The illustration here is from the Ming-era (1368 - 1644) encyclopedia Tiangong Kaiwu/《天工开物》. Basically it's a giant loom operated by two people, the person below is the weaver, and the person sitting atop is the one who controls which warp threads should be lifted at what time (all already determined at the designing stage before any weaving begins), which creates patterns woven into the fabric. Here is a video that briefly shows how this type of loom works (start from around 1:00). For Hanfu lovers, this is how zhuanghua/妆花 fabric used to be woven, and how traditional silk fabrics like yunjin/云锦 continue to be woven. Because it is so labor intensive, real jacquard silk brocade woven this way are extremely expensive, so the vast majority of zhuanghua hanfu on the market are made from machine woven synthetic materials.

Chinese purple is a synthetic pigment with the chemical formula BaCuSi2O6. There's also a Chinese blue pigment. If anyone is interested in the chemistry of these two compounds, here's a paper on the topic. (link goes to pdf)

A list of common colors used in Qin and Han dynasties and the pigments involved. White pigment comes from chalk, lead compounds, and powdered sea shells; green pigment comes from malachite mineral; blue pigment usually comes from azurite mineral; black comes from pine soot and graphite; red comes from cinnabar; ochre comes from hematite; and yellow comes from realgar and orpiment minerals.

Also here are names of different colors and shades during Han dynasty. It's worth noting that qing/青 can mean green (ex: 青草, "green grass"), blue (ex: 青天, "blue sky"), any shade between green and blue, or even black (ex: 青丝, "black hair") in ancient Chinese depending on the context. Today 青 can mean green, blue, and everything in between.

Western Han-era bronze lamp shaped like a goose holding a fish in its beak. This lamp is interesting as the whole thing is hollow, so the smoke from the fire in the lamp (the fish shaped part) will go up into the neck of the goose, then go down into the body of the goose where there's water to catch the smoke, this way the smoke will not be released to the surrounding environment. There are also other lamps from around the same time designed like this, for example the famous gilt bronze lamp that's shaped like a kneeling person holding a lamp.

Part of a Qin-era (?) clay drainage pipe system:

A list of canals that was dug during Warring States period, Qin dynasty, and pre-Emperor Wu of Han Han dynasty (475 - 141 BC). Their purposes vary from transportation to irrigation. The name of the first canal on the list, Hong Gou/鸿沟, has already become a word in Chinese language, a metaphor for a clear separation that cannot be crossed (ex: 不可逾越的鸿沟, meaning "a gulf that cannot be crossed").

Han-era wooden boat. This boat is special in that its construction has clear inspirations from the ancient Romans, another indication of the amount of information exchange that took place along the Silk Road:

A model that shows how the Great Wall was constructed in Qin dynasty. Laborers would use bamboo to construct a scaffold (bamboo scaffolding is still used in construction today btw, though it's being gradually phased out) so people and materials (stone bricks and dirt) can get up onto the wall. Then the dirt in the middle of the wall would be compressed into rammed earth, called hangtu/夯土. A layer of stone bricks may be added to the outside of the hangtu wall to protect it from the elements. This was also the method of construction for many city walls in ancient China.

A list of the schools of thought that existed during Warring States period, their most influential figures, their scholars, and their most famous works. These include Confucianism (called Ru Jia/儒家 in Chinese; usually the suffix "家" at the end denotes a school of thought, not a religion; the suffix "教" is that one that denotes a religion), Daoism/道家, Legalism (Fa Jia/法家), Mohism/墨家, etc.

The "Five Classics" (五经) in the "Four Books and Five Classics" (四书五经) associated with the Confucian tradition, they are Shijing/《诗经》 (Classic of Poetry), Yijing/《易经》 (also known as I Ching), Shangshu/《尚书》 (Classic of History), Liji/《礼记》 (Book of Rites), and Chunqiu/《春秋》 (Spring and Autumn Annals). The "Four Books" (四书) are Daxue/《大学》 (Great Learning), Zhongyong/《中庸》 (Doctrine of the Mean), Lunyu/《论语》 (Analects), and Mengzi/《孟子》 (known as Mencius).

And finally the souvenir shop! Here's a Chinese chess (xiangqi/象棋) set where the pieces are fashioned like Western chess, in that they actually look like the things they are supposed to represent, compared to traditional Chinese chess pieces where each one is just a round wooden piece with the Chinese character for the piece on top:

A blind box set of small figurines that are supposed to mimic Shang and Zhou era animal-shaped bronze vessels. Fun fact, in Shang dynasty people revered owls, and there was a female general named Fu Hao/妇好 who was buried with an owl-shaped bronze vessel, so that's why this set has three different owls (top left, top right, and middle). I got one of these owls (I love birds so yay!)

And that concludes the museums I visited while in Xi'an!

[storiesaplenty]

Jelly Bracelets (12) (18+)

Eddie Munson x f/Reader

Jelly Bracelets Masterlist

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy, though.

Warnings: swearing. Mentions nudity. Lap dancing. Grinding.

Gifs & photos do not belong to me: 1st gif: @munsuneddie

WC: 1123

©️ storiesaplenty 2024: Do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

Red - wearer is willing to perform a lap dance

Eddie Munson may be the freak of Hawkins, but he is your best friend. Who is always willing to teach you new things, even when you get new bracelets from your cousin. Eddie will even go as far as teaching & showing you what each one means.

"Oh get out of here Eddie. I don't feel like doing anything today." I pulled the covers over my head, trying to ignore him as he tried to hank the covers away from my bed.

"The is shining. The birds are singing." I snorted at him, loudly.

"You must be high Eddie. It is raining out, and there are no birds singing."

"I am not that high, and you know it. Come on. I rented some movies, got pizza on the way. Lets get you out of bed and into that living room to watch some movies.

I didn't move.

I heard him sigh. "I even rented Flashdance."

I pushed the covers down, and looked at Eddie's handsome face to see if he was lying.

"Show me." I demanded.

Him, knowing me so well, pulled it out of his inner coat pocket, and I couldn't help but squeal as I saw that he wasn't lying.

"Now will you get out of bed, and watch the movies?" He asked one last time, and I was already getting out of the bed, rushing past him to get my favourite spot on the couch.

The movie was almost over, half of the candy was gone and there were still a slice of pizza.

I knew Eddie was bored, but I know he is watching this for me.

His arm is on the back of the couch behind me as I am leaning against his side, just like we have always done.

"You know if you stuck with dancing, you probably would have gotten out of this shit hole town." Eddie said, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

"Please. I stopped just before high-school, and I am glad I did. The teacher was creepy." And she really was.

Her husband was also creepy as well.

"You still remember any moves?" Eddie questioned me, which I responded by nodding my head yes as I took a sip of Pepsi.

"Enough to do a lap dance?"

"I didn't do that type of dancing Munson." I pointed out.

"Well, now you know what I am asking for." He snapped the red one

Wearer is willing to perform a lap dance.

"When do you want this?"

"I think now may be a good time. I even got a song picked out." He said smugly, as I pushed off the couch.

"Fine. Get in my room." He hopped up, and ran to my room.

I went to the laundry room and grabbed a pair of clean, lacy red panties, along with it's matching bra and put it on and fixed my hair just a bit.

As I am walking through the living room, I grabbed his discarded jacket and drapped it over my shoulders, knowing this would drive him wild.

"Start the music Eddie." I called out, and the moment I heard the music playing, and of course it is AC/DC. None the less, I opened the door, and Eddie was sitting in my vanity chair, almost looking a bit too relaxed, but he looked good.

His legs were spread and his hands were on his lap.

He saw me and his mouth dropped open as I took a few steps in my room, closing the door behind me.

His eyes trailed up and down my body.

He gave me the confidence to get me through this.

My hands trailed up and down my body, my hips moving back and forth to the beat.

I turned around, bending over slightly for him to get a good look at my ass, and as I looked over my shoulder, biting my lip I could see him adjust himself in his jeans.

I reached up and took the bra off, and putting his coat on fully now.

I turned around and his eyes were drawn to the bra in my hand, and it dawned on him that his favourite jacket is touching my breasts.

I flung the bra at his face, and he instantly grabbed the bra and put it around his neck as I moved towards him.

I smiled at Eddie as I circled around him, my arms rubbing his shoulders and touching his chest.

He reached up to touch me, but I slapped his hands away, making him pout.

"No touching, Eddie."

I placed my hands at the back of his neck as I lowered my body so we are making eye contact.

Eddie licked his lips nervously, and I watched nothing more than kiss him, but I held off.

The music faded as I turned my body to face away from Eddie, leaning forward as I sat down his lap.

I moaned softly at hard he is.

I reached behind me as I leaned back, my fingers playing with his hair as I moved back and forth, then rolling my hips in a circle motion.

"Fuck." I heard him say behind me.

I grinded my ass against him, my hands now gripping his thighs.

I needed to see him, so I got up and turned around to sit back in his lap once more, continuing gyrating my hips once more.

I grabbed Eddie's hands and moved them up and down my body, listening to soft moans fall from his lips.

Our faces were close and he leaned in to kiss me, and I pretended to lean in to kiss him as well, until I pulled away and stood up, knowing the song is about to end soon.

I ran my hands up and down my body as I closed my eyes, wishing it was Eddie.

I turned my body, bending down to touch the floor as I stand between his spread legs, my ass against his cock as I grinded my ass against him.

I felt him wrap his arms around me and I was about to say no touching once more, as he turned me around and slammed his mouth against mine, moaning into the kiss as he was muttering against my lips.

"Need you. Please let me have you." Eddie as he grinding his cock against me, making me gasp.

"Yes, please Eddie." Was all I needed to say before he was walking me backwards towards my bed, and gently pushing me back to lay on it.

I looked at him, and he looked at me as he was just about to undress when there was a loud knock on my bedroom door.

"You two want some tacos? I made tacos." Robin excitedly called out, instantly killing the mood.

"Be out there in a second." Eddie called back, through clenched teeth.

"My place. Tonight. Wayne is working and no one will bother us." He kissed me one last time as he opened the door and shut it behind him.

♣︎

Green (18+) ♥︎ Glittery Green (18+)

[mysteryshoptls]

Twisted Entertainment News ～April Fools 2024～

The Aniplex Youtube Channel dropped a parody news segment for April Fools Day, which had Kazuki Furuta (Kalim) and Kaname Futaba (Jamil) as "commentators." A full official MMD clip of Absolutely Beautiful was shown, and afterwards, Furuta and Futaba "taught" the viewers back home how to do the dance. I don't normally do transcriptions of videos, but this one made me laugh with enjoyment that I wanted to make sure that everyone else could enjoy it too, especially since I know this video is region-locked. I've highlighted Furuta and Futaba's names with the colors for Kalim and Jamil's that I usually use for their vignettes. I've also added small commentary on their movements and expressions, which is not something I normally have to do for vignettes. I also only translated the "news" portion of the video and left out the final part, which was them returning to reality and talking about the monitors in the in-game shop that could be bought for the Guest Room. I hope this transcription is enjoyable for everyone else, too! Please check it out under the cut!

Newscaster Yasuda: Good evening to Twisted Wonderland and to all those who have found themselves transported here. It’s time for Twisted Entertainment News, where we report on all the hottest entertainment topics. I have with me today two very well-known commentators who have appeared on so many of the variety talk shows as of late: Kazuki Furuta-san and Kaname Futaba-san.

Commentator Kazuki Furuta: Good evening, I’m Kazuki Furuta. I’m beyond honored to have been asked to come on this show as a commentator. Thank you very much for inviting me.

Commentator Kaname Futaba: Good evening, I’m Kaname Futaba. You know, I really dig Twisted Entertainment News.

Furuta: I do hear you say that often.

Futaba: Yeah. I watch it every week, and even record it.

Furuta: Indeed.

Futaba: I’m really hoping we’ll have a ton of great things to talk about. Thanks for having me.

Yasuda: Well, let’s get right into today’s entertainment news. First, Magical Motors is finally venturing into space. Second, are the rumors that the Mysterious Amusement Park is closing true!? And finally, the Absolute Dance is the current breakout trend. Of these three topics, the Absolute Dance is probably the most eye-catching, so, Furuta-san, Futaba-san, have you heard of this dance before?

Furuta: Very much so. It is very popular even in my circles, so not a day goes by that I do not come across it.

Futaba: I’ve known about it for some time now, too. So, I guess it feels like the times have finally caught up.

Furuta: You’re so right.

Futaba: Yeah.

Yasuda: Now then, we’ve prepared a video to show what exactly this dance is all about. Please take a look.

[Absolutely Beautiful Official Dance MMD plays while Yasuda, Furuta, and Futaba are shown in the top right corner, watching]

[clip ends, Yasuda, Furuta, and Futaba applaud politely]

Furuta: How amazing was that?

Futaba: Yeah, a great clip.

Furuta: Indeed.

Yasuda: So, this “Absolute Dance” originally comes from the dance movements of the song “Absolutely Beautiful.” It seems that thanks to the performance by Night Raven College stu－

Furuta: [interrupting] Night Raven College!

Yasuda: …Right. The students performed this song and dance at the school’s cultural festival and this garnered a lot of hype.

Furuta: [jumping in] Hype!

Yasuda: …Right. I do believe that this is a rather complicated dance that cannot be mastered just from watching it once. So, today I hoped to have our commentators, Furuta-san and Futaba-san, to show those of you watching this show at home how to perform it so that everyone can dance along.

Futaba: I see.

Furuta: Of course.

Yasuda: Furuta-san, I’ve heard that you may be a commentator, but you are also a very good dancer.

Furuta: [sounding like he wants to protest politely but is also smug at the praise] Ah, well― that is― by myself, I― [background music cuts] Yes, I am!

Yasuda: Right, thank you. And so, I was hoping we could receive an instructional demonstration from you on how this dance is performed.

Furuta: [politely but smugly trying to refute] Ah, that― Heh― Of course.

Yasuda: Wonderful, we would be so grateful.

Furuta: Of course! Now, I’ve chosen 4 specific points of the song to dance to in order to help anyone master the Absolute Dance. Those of you watching, please feel free to dance along!

[screen transitions to Furuta standing in front of the desk, with Futaba and Yasuda sitting and watching]

Furuta: Now for the first dance point: I’ll start with the opening dance for the song.

[Furuta dances Vil's movements from the chorus at the beginning of the song while Futaba's eyes widen as he watches intently]

[dance ends]

Futaba: Just hold on a sec. That’s so amazing?! I’m so shocked. Like, especially the third part of the second-eighths was really good.

Furuta: The third part of the second-eighths, you mean this movement, yes? [shows off the specific dance move again]

Futaba: It’s fantastic! And this dance looks like it moves your entire body, so I bet it’s really good for your health, too.

Furuta: Oh yes, especially that movement. It uses the whole shoulder joint so I believe it could be good for relieving any stiffness in the shoulder.

Futaba: This is spectacular.

Furuta: Thank you very much.

Futaba: Man…

Furuta: Now then, I think it’s time to move onto the second part.

Futaba: [quietly, to himself] That was shocking.

Furuta: The second dance point:

Futaba: [quietly, to himself] I’m so shocked.

Furuta: Jamil’s― [turns to address Futaba] Oh, was it shocking?

Futaba: Yeah, totally shocking. Sorry.

Furuta: I’m so glad to hear that. [turns back to the camera] I'll now dance the part with Jamil’s rap.

Futaba: [quietly, to himself] Really shocking.

[Music begins to lead into Jamil's rap, Furuta prepares himself to start dancing]

Futaba: [quietly, to himself] Man, I’m still reeling from that shocker.

[Furuta starts by dancing Ace/Deuce's movements while Futaba stares in awe]

Futaba: No way...

[Furuta continues by dancing Kalim/Rook's movements while Futaba continues watching him in awe]

[dance ends]

Futaba: This part… I mean, your dance was just astounding, don’t get me wrong. But… this voice rapping just now… I really like this voice!

Furuta: [turns to address Futaba] It’s a very familiar voice, isn’t it?

Futaba: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Furuta: [turns back to the camera] Almost like it feels really close to me, that’s right.

Futaba: It’s just so smooth.

Furuta: Smoothly, yes, the lyrics just come so smoothly.

Futaba: So smoothly.

Furuta: Yes, it just enters my mind so smoothly.

Futaba: It really gets me hyped.

Furuta: Just from the first sound, it just― [Furuta starts dancing] I can just flow with the music.

Futaba: Yeah, this’ll just get your body dancing on its own. Amazing.

Furuta: [turns to address Futaba] Would you like to dance up here together?

Futaba: [background music cuts] Ah, no, I’m good.

Furuta: [turns back to the camera] It seems he’s good, so I’ll move on to the third dancing point: The solo dances by each student during the song’s interlude. And for this― [a little out of breath] for this…

Futaba: Uh-huh.

Furuta: Well, for this part, I will be dancing Kalim’s portion.

Futaba: You’re breathing a bit hard, you good?

Furuta: [turns to address Futaba] Oh, I’m fine.

Futaba: You sure?

Furuta: [turns back to the camera] I’m not tired whatsoever. I am very used to dancing, after all.

Futaba: Then please, go on.

Furuta: Of course.

[Furuta begins dancing Kalim's movements during the interlude while Futaba keeps gazing intently]

[dance ends]

Futaba: No way, that’s so aggressive! Woaaah, this part feels like the most aggressive of the whole set!

Furuta: [turns to address Futaba] How about it, Futaba-san, would you like to dance this aggressive part with me?

Futaba: [background music cuts] Ah, no, I’m good.

Furuta: [addresses Yasuda] Yasuda-san, would you like to dance with me?

Yasuda: No, thank you.

Furuta: [turns back to the camera] Alright then, moving on! Time for the fourth and final dance point: I’ll dance from the song's hook to the end!

[Furuta dances Kalim/Ace's movements for the end of the song while Futaba looks on in amazement and awe]

[dancing ends, Futaba starts a slow clap, picks up speed, then stands up]

Futaba: EXCELLENT! PERFECT! BEAUTIFUL! Futaba-kun, you’re amazing! You’re an absolute genius!

Furuta: [turns to address Futaba] Thank you very much. Shall we share a dance together?

Futaba: [background music cuts] Ah, no, I’m good. [sits back down]

Furuta: [turns back to the camera] It seems he’s good, so for everyone else, I hope you were able to learn how to dance this song. After all the energy and effort I put into this instructional demonstration, there’s no way you can’t dance it now, I’m sure.

Futaba: Absolutely. Thank you for the dance lecture, Furuta-san.

Furuta: [turns to address Futaba] Futaba-san, I do hope you’ll dance with me on the next occasion.

Futaba: [background music cuts] Ah, no, I’m good.

Furuta: [turns back to the camera] It seems he’s good.

Fin

[jokeroutsubs]

[ENG SUB] Bojan Cvjetićanin and Nace Jordan on 'Na sceni', Val 202 (19.11.2024)

Bojan and Nace discuss the process of making the new album, 'Souvenir Pop', the songs 'Mesto duhov', 'Muzika za decu', 'Stephanie', 'Ako toga više neće biti' and 'Lips', and the therapeutic note Nace brings to the band.

The original audio, including the songs which are cut out here for copyright reasons, can be found here.

Transcript and translation by a member of JokerOutSubs, review by IG 10_anja, proofread by IG GBoleyn123, subtitles by @vesdagrem and a member of JokerOutSubs.

Full video with transcript below the cut 👇

Host: Good evening, welcome to Val 202. You're listening to Radio Slovenia, the second programme. The 'Na sceni' ('On the Scene') broadcast has just begun and today's guests are from the band Joker Out. Good evening.

Bojan: Good evening.

Nace: Good evening.

Nace Jordan and Bojan Cvjetićanin have come to our studio. They've taken precious minutes out of their probably too-full schedule. Bojan, what's that been like for the past year and a half?

Bojan: The schedule is nicely full, but an interview like this one today, these are nice notes on the calendar, so...

Thank you.

Bojan: Thank you for hosting us.

Nace, how have things changed after the second album, 'Demoni', has anything changed at all?

Nace: That'd be hard for me to comment on, since I only joined the band with the second album.

Bojan: Well, has anything changed for you?

Nace: A lot of things have changed for me. I became a member of a band. I finally have a band with my peers, kind of, and we've created a new album. We suddenly saw a big part of Europe, by playing concerts in... how many countries did we visit, I don't even know. Well, in most of Europe. And... I hope we'll go somewhere outside of Europe as soon as possible, too.

And that would be only right. You're one of the few Slovenian ensembles, performers, who have even managed a feat like that.

Bojan: I mean, we managed to do something really nice. Basically in one night, I'd say, from that... if we think of it as the final night of Eurovision flowing into our new band era. We really went from a band that performed practically exclusively in Slovenia to a band that, in the past year and a half, performed, I would say, exclusively outside of Slovenia. So we definitely had a 180-degree turn happen to us, but I'd say that we really took the proper steps on this path too, even though it happend, I'd say... well, very quickly, but we didn't get ahead of ourselves. So I'd say that, as a band, we're still held together by nice foundations and roots.

The album is called 'Souvenir Pop', so it'll forever be written down somewhere as a kind of memory, right?

Bojan: That's right!

A pop one, even though a few songs are quite, let's say, well, significantly harder.

Bojan: Yes...

How come, it's a live experience, right?

Bojan: Yeah, you know what it is? We're children of a generation of parents who always said that you should bring a magnet home when you go somewhere. It was always like that for me. You absolutely had to bring a magnet from a trip. And these songs are actually, with all the memories and all the emotions they pull, they're magnets that we've all brought together and collected in a bag and they will forever remain very tangible souvenirs for us, I'm sure.

First up was 'Mesto duhov'. Bojan?

Bojan: Yes, 'Mesto duhov' is actually, I'd say, the first absolutely pessimistic song I've ever written. I have to say that I'm pretty sad and unhappy every time I wake up from the slumber of everyday life and realise that there is constant injustice and inequality and basically impossible living conditions around us. And... I also started to feel that in the general climate for the first time. I feel that people have a different aura around them, that we're all on some kind of high alert. There's a lot more of a negative whiff in the air. Young people are pretty pessimistic. That's how I perceived the current climate, not only at home, but basically wherever we went. So I think that 'Mesto duhov' was a very clear reflection of how I felt when I first walked through the streets of Ljubljana when I came home after a longer period of time, which never happened to me before, I was never away for that long.

Nace, the next one is called 'Muzika za decu'.

Nace: Yes.

How did you fall into... I won't say the Joker Out machine, but into this creative process of yours, or, how are songs generated?

Nace: This song actually has a very interesting origin. That is, if I remember correctly, in the six weeks that we spend in the studio in Hamburg, we were kind of waiting for Bojan to write and bring another song which we would then put our instruments over, and in one moment, Bojan said: "We're not doing it that way anymore. We'll do a song here tomorrow and that song will be a hit, will be the best." And I have to say he wasn't wrong because we grabbed our instruments and... That was definitely one of the highlights of those six weeks in Hamburg. I think that was when we lived like a band the most, or felt a kind of mutual energy the most, we took the instruments and played that together. And I think Bojan had an idea in the back of his mind.

Bojan: No, I had... I had something on the piano. Pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa.

Nace: That idea.

Bojan: But it was called 'Zlatna kosica' ('Golden Hair') initially, I have no idea what it was, something like "how I'm drawn by your golden hair", which just, I didn't feel like constantly drilling the piano, so Kris did it on the guitar...

Nace: That's right.

Bojan: Then it was very clear where the song was going, even with that busted guitar. But it had an attitude, and just bam, 'Muzika za decu'.

Nace: I think it has, the whole song captured exactly that energy.

Bojan: I came up with the lyrics while singing. The idea was that because I was recording on, I don't know, an SM58 or something, which is a microphone that you generally use for live singing, not recording. And I was in the place with them while all the instruments were rattling, and the plan was just that... Okay, the lyrics work, even if I came up with them more or less on the spot, but I'd record the vocals again in Ljubljana. I came to Ljubljana, I recorded with a proper studio microphone, it was a catastrophe and then poor Žare had to clean all those vocal channels of all the noise surrounding it. So this song is truly, the way we did it at our place there, that's how it came out, from start to finish.

Great, so Joker Out, the album is 'Souvenir Pop', the third album in a row, this will be 'Muzika za decu'.

You're listening to 'Na sceni'. Our guests on Val 202 are members of Joker Out, they are Nace Jordan and Bojan Cvjetićanin. The album is a bit of a mix of languages, right? On purpose. Three Slovenian ones, four Serbian ones and a few English ones.

Bojan: True.

Did someone from your headquarters recommend that you do that?

Bojan: The soul. The soul recommended it. The songs are written in the language in which they came up when I started writing them. With the exception of 'Mesto duhov', which was initially a song called 'Wembury Mews', which was our street in London that we lived on. But I then ended up writing it in Slovenian because I had a story that resonated with something I wanted to tell, and I think it also coincided very well with the music. But no, like... We travelled a whole lot, I thought and spoke in those three languages a lot and that just came out of me in the way of songwriting. I think that it was a very clear, at least clear to me, reflection of parts of me that come out completely differently when I think about them in a different language.

Anyway, the team is now that you've joined as the last one, Nace, still the same, right? Who are the other three matadors?

Nace: The other three are Peteh Jan, guitarist, Kris Guštin, guitarist, and Jure Maček, drummer.

And if you spend six weeks together in the studio and live somewhere together, like some kind of football team, do you ever argue?

Nace: Of course we do, it's normal to have a moment when you disagree with someone. But I think that now we've spent so much time together, we know each other well enough to spot which one of us might be in a not-great mood in that moment and give him some space or sometimes agree with him for the sake of mutually good energy.

Bojan: But I was thinking that we've actually never argued in the sense of fighting. There have absolutely always been many disagreements as far as creating and logistics and all that stuff go. But there was never a moment of something blowing up. Genuinely. I don't remember that happening. So that's very good. But that's the consequence of us constantly clearing things up, and... We don't allow anything to inflate that balloon and for everything to end up exploding, but... Nace, for example, is the most important, let's say, member of this relationship. Especially because he brought this "filtering" dynamic into the band, because he's actually the only person who always calls all of us the moment he feels that there's a bad mood in the air. You always get a call from Nace: "Is everything okay? Today I sensed that things were a little off, what happened? If you want to talk, you can hit me up." So I'd say that Nace also brought a very healthy therapeutic aspect to this band.

Commendable, of course. You need that too, you'd probably have a hard time without it. Up next is 'Stephanie', so an English one.

Bojan: 'Stephanie' is actually an interesting song. I wrote just the line "Her name is Stephanie, she lives about a thousand miles away from me" about three years ago, but it didn't actually have any kind of story, except the melody and this line that sounded nice to me. But by now, things have already happened in my life that actually gave it its story so the song wrote itself very naturally after that. It kind of has a slightly different sound. Because we didn't really know what to do with the song, Žare Pak and I kind of patched it together with his famous Reason programme for creating percussion. And then Nace played around with programming for an hour or twelve.

Nace: The song is interesting because most of us don't play our primary instrument in this song.

Bojan: That's true.

Bojan: Jan...

Rotation.

Bojan & Nace: Yes.

Bojan: Jan and I are on the bass.

Nace: Kris and I are on the guitars.

Bojan: Yes. I played the keyboards.

Nace: I also played the keyboards. I mean, like, it's something completely different.

Yeah, that must contribute to the vibe.

Nace: Yes.

Bojan: Yeah, I mean, making this album was quite the sandbox. Sometimes you had to fight for the toy rake you liked the most.

So, 'Stephanie' and Joker Out. Tonight's guests in 'Na sceni' are Bojan Cvjetićanin and Nace Jordan, Joker Out, of course. 'Souvenir Pop' is the third album, Jernej Vene is with you. There are two concerts in Cvetličarna coming up, both sold out. You're not going to a bigger place on purpose, right? Because you like proximity. What does the audience give to you?

Bojan: We're not going to a bigger place, or a different place, on purpose because we presented the first album twice, in a twice sold-out Cvetličarna. That was absolutely, if not the most beautiful, then one of the most beautiful moments of our lives. This year, when we've been away from home so much and played in clubs so much, we saw what a good effect that club energy truly has on us. How much of a reciprocal "give and take" moment it is, meaning, you give your all and the audience gives it all back to you and the same thing happens for them. So we said that we wanted to play at home, somewhere we also feel at home. That is definitely home to us.

There's actually a bit of a problem now since you have three albums. How do you pick the songs for the concert?

Nace: I mean, we just started that this week, when Bojan wasn't here, putting it together a bit already, what should be played, and it's actually a real problem because there are a lot of songs that are "the juicy ones", as we call them. Those are the songs we have to play or that we like to play or that...

Bojan: For a 'Greatest Hits' album.

Nace: Yes. The juicy ones. And alongside the new album, which we'll play in its entirety at the upcoming concerts, there are too many of these songs to fit into a two-hour concert so we'll definitely...

Bojan: Oh, we have such horrible problems.

Nace: No, no, no. I mean, it's a problem because some fans want to hear one song, others another, so we'll probably change the playlist a bit between the concerts so that we can play at least something for everyone.

Moving on. 'Ako toga više neće biti'.

Bojan: I don't know, it's probably my favourite song from this album. One of my favourites in general, as well. I think we feel it. It was a bit weird initially. I remember that when I showed the boys a rough idea, they weren't really sure what, basically... What the poet wanted to say¹.

¹It is a phrase commonly used in Serbo-Croatian speaking area, meaning that it is hard to understand what the author of the original piece of art wanted to say, the meaning isn’t transparent or clear right away. This phrase also has another word used sometimes, it’s pisac instead of pesnik; in that case it translates as ‘What the writer wanted to say’. Pisac is a writer, but the meaning of the phrase is the same.

I'd say that this is where we sound the most like a band. Well, maybe here and in 'Muzika za decu'. But purely from the sound aspect and from a kind of vibe aspect, this recording makes me feel the most like I'm listening to a band that's playing in the same space. Because most of it actually was played together, as well. I like it. It's organic, it's very close to my heart.

So, 'Ako toga više neće biti' and Joker Out.

Joker Out in 'Na sceni'. The album 'Souvenir Pop’ is their third one. Bojan and Nace are here. After Ljubljana, you're on the road again soon, or what?

Bojan: That's right.

Nace: True, true. We're going around the Balkans for a bit, that is, I think we're starting in Novi Sad², continuing in Belgrade, Skopje, Zagreb, then we're returning to Maribor and finishing in Vienna.

²The concert in Novi Sad was later rescheduled due to a tragic event that happened in the city when a canopy at the railway station collapsed, killing several people.

That's still for this year.

Bojan: That's for this year, yes.

We continue with another Slovenian one, titled 'Sonce'.

Bojan: Yes, 'Sonce' is a song that came about as basically my direct response to what's currently happening in Palestine. I actually kind of had a story in my head of a son who's saying goodbye to his mother from the afterlife and is basically addressing his mum with those words. So I'd say it's a pretty atypical song for us, seeing as there's no repeat chorus, or that it doesn't have the kind of classic song structure. And I absolutely have to say that Jan did an incredible arrangement, and wrote his own piano part and recorded it as well, which really added even more dots to the 'i' for the song. So I'm glad that it's basically... what I wanted to say with my voice, Jan completely encompassed with the piano as well, so... It's a heavy song to listen to, at least for us, I'd say, but still beautiful. It fits onto this album.

Joker Out on 'Na sceni'.

Bojan and Nace are still tonight's guests. We won't ask about plans because they happen on their own, right. Are there any days that aren't planned?

Bojan: Absolutely.

Nace: Definitely.

To clear your heads, right?

Bojan: Yes, yes, yes. I mean, in general I think that Nace and I in particular are not really the type of people to... When...  Yeah.

Nace: To set up schedules for ourselves.

Bojan: Yes, we're not the type of people to have a schedule, especially for free days. And, I don't know, for me, even with days that are planned, I often happen to wander off somewhere. And it's by accident, but... I don't know.

Nace: I mean, everything is definitely organised so that we at least have mornings free. So, if we do want to seize the day, we just wake up a little earlier.

Bojan: Yeah, right. Stop it.

Nace: Well, look, it happens, stuff happens. You go to sleep too early...

Bojan: Yeah, okay.

N: ... and you seize the day.

Bojan: That's right.

Nace: Early.

For the end of the broadcast another English one, 'Lips'.

Bojan: 'Lips' is truly a song that had many forms. It started out as 'Je t'aime'. A Franz Ferdinand-esque rock song with French and English. It ended up as... what kind of genre would that be, if any?

Nace: I'd call it cinematic rock

Bojan: Cinematic... wow. There you go, a cinematic rock song. It's also, I'd say, a departure from our traditional sound. This is in large part thanks to Nace on my right, because he arranged practically the whole song as well as put it into its sound form. He really put in the effort here and spent a whole lot of time on it, so we really have to say "Thank you!" to Nace here. Or, if you don't like the song, tell him to get lost, but...

Nace: I'm the one at fault, yes.

Bojan: Yeah, I mean, I like it, I think I had a very determined vision of how I wanted the vocals to work in this song. Whereas what would happen around it was kind of a mistery to me. So Nace, with his cinematic rock, hit the nail on the head with me too.

Nace: But as a fun fact, well... this song was happening in the studio, we were in a bit of a hurry, honestly.

Bojan: At the end, yes.

Nace: We were in a bit of a hurry at the end, and one evening, I was like: "It can't be like that." I got...

Bojan: Yes, Žare and I made the basic beat and stuff, but it was very bland. And then Nace, in five hours or so, put something together and sent back something that, if we put it as a trailer for, I don't know, James Bond or something, it'd be awesome.

Nace: As a fun fact, I did all that while lying in bed.

Bojan: Well, there you go.

Nace: On my laptop.

Bojan: Such hard work, that you can do it in bed on your laptop.

Fun. Gentlemen, thank you for visiting us.

Bojan: Thank you for the invite.

Nace: Gladly.

And good luck on all the roads ahead of you in the next year and beyond.

Bojan: Thank you.

Right, to finish off, 'Lips'. The album is 'Souvenir Pop', Joker Out is the band, you know all that. Nace Jordan and Bojan Cvjetićanin were with you. Jernej Vene, signing off. Until next time, to plenty of good music. Goodbye.

Bojan: Goodbye.

Nace: Goodbye.

[cainnleacghlovers]

Who’s he? - MM

Paring: Mason Mount x Fem!Reader

Summary: Mason thinks Y/N is cheating. What happens when he can’t get his girl to forgive him? And what happens when Mason marks him in a match?

Warnings: Angst

Part 1/2?? maybe??

Finishing up the pasta you were cooking, you checked, for about the hmm? what time? you’d lost count. Okay, you definitely had enough protein in it. You’d asked the clubs dietician for some dishes you could make for Mason, knowing he loved a home cooked meal. Why on earth would someone need so much protein? What even is an amino acid?

You couldn’t complain, after all, you did get to reap the benefits of the muscle he was building. Whether it was a strong hand clasped in yours when you were out for a walk, or clutching his biceps while he pounded into you. Yep, you definitely weren’t gonna complain.

Trying a bit of the sauce. you were satisfied with the taste. Hearing the door creak open. You still hadn’t gotten round to oiling it yet. Shoes were thrown off, no doubts against the skirting board, and feet padded across the wooden floors, until a voice rung through the house.

“I’m home baby!” The voice said. That voice none other than your boyfriend. His voice was raspy, probably due to the freezing temperatures in London right now. You don’t think you’d ever get used to the permanent draft that seemed to linger in ever corner of the country.

“Kitchen!” You hummed back, singing to the beat of the song currently playing. New romantics by Taylor Swift. One Mason had even grown to love, insisting the lyrics mirrored his life. ‘The best people in life are free.’

Stepping into the kitchen, he gave you a smile, before making his way over to you, and pulling you into his chest by the waistband of your leggings. He swayed you slightly, his cold breath gradually heating up against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“I missed you today.” He’d been gone, how long? 3 hours. But you two needed to spend every minute of every day of every month of every year of every… okay, you get what i mean, together. He was your best friend, and he wasn’t just your world, he was your moon and stars. He was your entire galaxy.

“I missed you too.” You hummed against his chest, hands still stirring the pot in front of you, as you slapped his hand away when he tried to take some. That boy was so bad for double dipping.

“How was your day?” He asked, refusing to let go of you.

“Boring. Lecture was absolute shite. Came home, did homework. Got bored of said homework. Made pasta to procrastinate. How was yours? Working hard?”

He laughed at your comment, as your prodded his bicep.

“Working very very hard.” He added, spinning you round so he could pepper kisses all over your face. His bearubble, as you liked to call. It wasn’t a beard, but it wasn’t stubble. It was a bearubble. It tickled your face as his lips found yours, and you melted into the kiss. The coldness of his lips contrasting the warmth of yours.

“Mason stop. That tickles.”

‘Mason stop’ seemed to translate into ‘Mason keep going’, and he began to tickle under your arms, and scratch your face lightly as you kicked your feet in defence. You were a giggling mess under him, and he swore, in that moment, he’d never heard anything sweeter.

“Mase dinners gonna go cold.” He released you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Fine. You win.”

As if on queue, his stomach rumbled, and he kissed you on the cheek before reaching up to grab some bowls. As he stretched, his jumper rose slightly, getting a good look at his toned stomach. Suddenly you were hungry for two things now!

Filling the bowls, he moved you over so he could lift them. Insisting he did everything for you, even carrying your bowl.

Making your way over to the living room, yes you ate in the living room, and yes you had a perfectly good kitchen table, but both your parents had been strict with eating on the sofa, so as soon as you got your own house, by god were you eating on the sofa.

He sat down, patting his lap for you to sit down.

“Will you be able to eat your dinner without getting distracted?” Hand on a hip, as you looked at him.

“I’ll be a good boy.”

Laughing, you fell onto his lap. Enjoying your dinner, and enjoying your company.

As you went to get drinks, a phone buzzed.

“It’s yours.” Mason said.

“I think it’s your mum. She was asking me about wallpaper. I said light blue, but she sent me every light blue wallpaper in the blinkin’ place.” You laughed to yourself, not really angry. You loved his mum.

He looked at your phone, as he checked the notification. Unless he unlocked the phone, he wouldn’t be able to see.

“Well who’s it from?”

“Can’t see. Got that lock thingy on.”

Unlocking your phone, you came back in, handing him a bottle of water. The atmosphere seemed to change, as if the cold from outside had crept in.

“It’s from Martin.” He said with a monotone expression.

“Who’s Martin?” You said genuinely curious.

“I think you exactly who Martin is.”

He spat the name out, and you felt the poison spilling off of his tongue. Furrowing your eyebrows, you were confused at why he raised his voice at you.

“Right, calm down.” You said, rolling your eyes at his temper.

“Calm down? Haha, you’re a funny one Y/N.”

“Oh i’m just hilarious. Why’ve you got a stick up your ass all of a sudden?”

Opening your phone, you realised it wasn’t messages. It was Instagram.

“No no. Don’t try be all ‘I’m so innocent’ with me? Jesus, you’ve talked more than once. What is this? He’s swiping up on your stories? He’s swiped up on one i’m in? He clearly knows that you’re you know, not single? Why is he messaging you? And why is it more than once!”

He was angry now. You knew the messages he was talking about, and they were certainly not bad. He played football with your brother, he complimented you? It was innocent. Absolutely nothing in it. If he was gonna point fingers, best believe you were too.

“Want me to go find him and go ‘Yo Martin, why are you messaging me, tell me every single fibre of thought behind it.’ I didn’t ask him to do this? So don’t take something that isn’t my fault, out on me.”

The tension in the room rose, the sofa being both a literal boundary, and a metaphorical one. You two didn’t shout, and you two most certainly didn’t accuse the other of cheating.

“Well you obviously gave him some notion that this was okay? You’re probably loving the attention.” He drew out the loving, and the sarcasm was laced through his words. His final words hurt you.

“And why on earth, mars, and venus would i do that? I don’t know why he’s messaged me. He swiped up on my story, and being a decent human, I replied back! I didn’t think much of it? It’s not like I sent him hearts and kisses, and ‘omg i’m in love with you?’ You’re being dramatic.”

If he was gonna go for sore spots, you were going to absolutely kick him in the ball. Not literally, but you were considering it. He knew you hated the attention you for dating him, and you knew he hated being told he was dramatic. Two can play at that game Mason.

He did not take that well. At all. Oh no.

“I’m dramatic?! My girlfriend is messaging other lads? What am I supposed to say to that, do a happy dance, and tell all the lads tomorrow at training! No! You’re bloody entertaining him. Why’re you going it? Your own validation?”

He opened your phone, scrolling through the messages. There was no point trying to get it, it would make the whole situation, that was already dramatic, explode.

“You’ve replied to all of them? Awk come on now Y/N. ‘Looking great’ with an ‘x’ ,a fucking ‘x’ you can’t be serious? ‘Aww thank you, that’s so sweet’ with a happy face. And you didn’t think much about it? What a fucking joke. Absolute bull shit.”

Not only did he mock his accent, his intimidated yours. You couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Are you serious Mason? He said ‘looking great’ and I replied? Being nice? And if we’re being like that, yeah i guess he’s a friend. But there’s absolutely nothing in it!”

“Fuck off.” He said, phone still in his hand, as if it were glued.

“No you fuck off you bastard.”

You didn’t mean to call him a bastard, and god you hated that word, but you were angry and cross and furious and every single word that means pissed off.

“Such a nice thing to call your boyfriend. Maybe you’d rather Martin be your boyfriend.”

“I’m not even talking to you anymore you ass hole.”

Again, you didn’t mean to call him that, but you were angry and cross and steaming out the ears. He scoffed, throwing your phone on the seat, and went upstairs to do something. Who cares what he was going to do. Probably complain about you to Declan.

Slumping down on the seat, you groaned in pure frustration, not understanding how the situation went from his mums wallpaper, to your supposed cheating scandal. Kicking your feet in the air, like a child, you got off of the seat with another groan, and put the bowls in the kitchen.

—

After you’d cooled down, and your vision turned normal, no longer seeing red. You decided that you should crack on with some homework. The complex Uni stuff you didn’t even understand would distract you.

Only problem was, Uni books were upstairs. Normally that would be a problem because, who could be bothered walking up the stairs not you. Today the problem was Mason.

Walking upstairs, you seen him sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Y/N.” He said softly. How dare he use that tone on you?

You looked at him, your eyes dark. You did not want to speak to him.

He patted the space beside him, looking for you to sit down.

“Come here. Please.” He added. The desperation in his voice almost made you feel bad. Almost.

“I do not want to talk to you.” You said harshly.

“Please. I wanna apologise.”

Number one rule in your relationship, someone wants to apologise, listen. Sighing you say down beside him. He moved to be closer to you, his arms stretching out to find their usual spot, around your waist. Not today though. You moved away from him.

“I’m sorry. You know I trust you.”

“Omg! You totally do. You’d never accuse me of cheating.” You said sarcastically, not even sorry that it probably hurt his feelings. He deserved it.

“I don’t know why I reacted like that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t of blown up at you.”

“That’s nice.” You added, raising your eyebrows. Listening to him, but not listening to him.

Getting up, and getting your books. You made your way to the door, eager to get out of this damn room.

“Y/N come on. I know I fucked up. I’ve said sorry, and I am sorry. What else can I do baby. Talk to me. Tell me how I can be better.”

“I know you said sorry, but I just don’t wanna look at your right now. Never mind talk to you.”

He sighed knowing you weren’t gonna give in. You pursed your lips, and prepared for you long, super long, night of studying. Yay!

—

Checking the time, and seeing it was 1:30 AM. You decided you’d have enough. Valuing your back over a fight with Mason. You were not sleeping on the coach. You made your way up the stairs.

—

Getting changed, you turned away from him, and he knew every single detail about you. From the time you wanted to be blonde, till the clothes you slept in. So of course, he noticed that you didn’t wear your usual bed attire. His t-shirt, and shorts. Instead opting for your own top, and a pair on long bottoms. You got in bed, not even looking at him, ad you stared aimlessly at the wall.

Better to go to bed angry than to rush an insincere apology.

“Night baby. I love you.” Mason said, and you heard him move to face you. Instead of being met with your pretty face, he was met with your back. He still thought it was pretty, but it wasn’t your gorgeous eyes.

“Night Mason.” You said coldly.

“Are you still coming to the match tomorrow?”

“I’ll see. I have a lot of work.” It wasn’t a lie, you did have a lot of work.

“But you never miss my home games.” He moaned. It was true. 4 years of dating, 4 years of home games.

“Mason please. I don’t wanna do this. Go to sleep.”

You felt him turn away again.

“Sorry. Night. I love you.”

Ignoring him, you soon fell into a dreamless sleep.

—

Waking up that morning, you notice Masons gone. You knew you put him a bad mood, after ignoring him last night, but he hadn’t been cross enough to let you freeze. The blankets had been pulled over you.

Rolling over, you rolled your eyes. Reaching for your phone. A message from Kai lit up the screen.

Kai: “what’d you do to him? worst fucking mood ever.”

So Kai got the blunt of it. Lucky him.

You: “he thinks i was flirting with Martin Ødegaard???? so i got pissed off. like really. called him a bastard…😬”

You watched the three bubbles appear as Kai typed.

Kai: “In short, he fucked up.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. The German really fit the stereotype. Blunt as hell.

You: “hmm.”

Kai: “You coming to the game then??? Sophia’s been eating my ear off about seeing you. Both them on the same pitch, roughhhhh😳”

Your heart dropped. Chelsea were playing Arsenal. Forgot being fucked, you were double fucked. No, triple fucked.

You: “Fuck off. no way you’re playing Arsenal.”

Kai: “We are indeed.”

You: “fuck my life. good luck later then!!”

Not that Kai needed it, he was a phenomenal player.

Kai: “thanks Y/N🙌🙌”

—

You decided you had to go to this match. Getting ready, you decided you didn’t hate him enough to not wear his jersey, but decided on a jumper over the top. The jumper could come of, the jumper could stay on. You’d see how you were feeling.

—

Getting to the match, you showed your pass, and they let you in. Making your way up, you spotted Sophia. Greeting her with your usual hug.

—

As the match progressed, Mason was extremely aggressive. You’d never seen him play like this. He always insisted that a dirty player, meant they weren’t secure in their ability. He fouled Saka. Surprising you. He had a lot of respect for the young boy. Singing his praises often.

“Jesus Mason.” You muttered, watching as Christian pushed Mason back, looking like he was having a serious conversation with him.

Sitting beside Sophia, you both cringed. The fouling was unnecessary.

“Did something happen? He’s really angry.” She commented, and you let out a dry laugh. You didn’t have the energy to explain what happened, even to one of your best friends. The girl you say on the floor with giggling like teenagers over your boyfriends.

“Fight last night. I didn’t wanna apologise. He thought I was cheating.”

Her eyes widened, she was genuinely shocked. The whole world knew how much you two adored each other. If you wanted the stars, he found a way to give you the whole universe.

“No way. What a dick.” She commented, making you laugh.

“Worst part is. Number 8. That’s who I apparently cheated on him with.”

—

Mason had the ball, and he was plummeting towards the goal. He tore through the defence like they were just made of feathers. Booting the ball, he found the back of the net. Running over to the corner of the field, he slid across on his knees. Lifting his top up.

He had ‘you look great x’ wrote across his under shirt, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re right Soph. What a dick head.”

-

Half time came and done, the tension in the pitch spreading to the stands. The fans were tense. The coaches were tense. The players were tense.

You were tense.

The boys came back out, and before you knew it. A commotion broke out of the pitch. Mason pushing Martin. He obviously did not appreciate that, and shoved your boyfriend right back. Christian ripped Mason away, and Martin shouted something.

I seen the anger rip through his body, coursing through his veins. Mason stormed over to Martin, grabbed his shirt, and threw him to the ground. Martin hit the ground, his team matés absolutely furious with what happened. The referee wasted no time showing him a card, as Kai dragged him away. Trying to talk some sense to him.

No surprises, he got subbed off. He stalked off the pitch, kicking a water bottle that was on the grass, sending it flying into the dug outs. He stormed into the changing rooms, or so you thought. That’s the general direction he appeared to be going in.

You and Sophia gave each other the look.

All she did was pay your shoulder and laugh.

“Good luck.”

—

Sick of his attitude, you walked into the changing rooms. Taking a lot of convincing on your behalf to the security guard to let you in. Eventually he did.

You got to the door of the changing room. Doing an awkward dance, jig type thing, as you prepared to go in. Your tongue became sandpaper, and you had to give yourself an internal clock to convince yourself to knock.

“Mason. It’s me. Are you decent?”

Waiting for a response, you cringed. Not sure what you were embarrassed over. The whole situation probably. Hearing a grunt back, you assumed that translated into something like ‘Come on in.’ Taking a deep breath, you opened the door.

Sitting away from him, you looked at him. He refused to meet you eye. There was no point sugar coating what he’d done. He’d messed up. Again.

“What was that about? You’ve bebe bebe booked for aggression.”

“Jesus, let me breathe. You’re going to tell me how I shouldn’t of done it either. I’ve heard it from Kai, i’ve heard it from Christian. I don’t wanna hear about it.”

He ripped his boots off, throwing them into the shoe locker. You never understood how they got new boots every match. 100’s of pounds for one game. Seems like an awful waste.

“I’m sure you’ve heard it enough, but yeah, you shouldn’t of done it. Pushing Bukaya as well. Come on Mason. What got you so pissed off? Other than the obvious.”

“Nothing.” He said bluntly. This was like talking to a brick wall.

“Mason.”

He raised his head out of their position between his hands, and his hair was messed up from gripping it. He threw his head against the wall, groaning in frustration as he sighed deeply.

“He called me an arrogant son of a bitch. Said I think this big tough lad, and i’m not. Didn’t even say that much, I was just cross and he was an easy target.”

He sighed, obviously regretting what he’d done.

He looked at you, finally. His eyes sad, and dropping from tiredness. You knew yourself, how eyes look when they’re about to cry. Your Uni work enforcing this feeling so often. You couldn’t help but feel bad.

“It got me thinking. Maybe I am an arrogant son of a bitch. And I know I don’t deserve you. And don’t tell me ‘Oh Mase don’t listen to him.’ or ‘you know i love you.’ After what I said yesterday, you deserve someone better. You deserve more than me.”

His eyes scanned your body, noticing his name wasn’t on show. You were still mad, but you had all the time in the world to be mad. Mason needed you.

Moving close to him, you tugged your jumper off. Turning your back so he could see his name, looking over your shoulder to see him smiling a little.

There it was. Your beautiful boys smile.

“I’m very proud. To let everyone know. That the handsome, talented man, that is the Mason Mount, is my boyfriend. My boyfriend. My man.”

He smiled, putting his hand out to pull you closer, pulling it back a little when he remembered you were still mad. Doing his job for him, you moved closer. Head resting on his shoulder. The whole fight seemed silly now, but you knew you still had to talk about it.

“I’m sorry for calling you a bastard, and an ass hole.” You joked. You definitely weren’t sorry, he didn’t have to know that.

He laughed, and you felt a weight lift of your shoulders.

“No I deserved it.”

“Yeah, you did.” You laughed.

You two sat in silence, the only thing breaking it was the cheers of the crowd. Who scored? You don’t know. Did you care? Not one bit.

“And I love you.” He smiled at that, his arm resting around your shoulder, rubbing lightly up and down.

“I love you. So damn much. No, that’s not enough. I love you so much that I’d give up football for you. I love you so much that i’d let Declan beat me every time we play fifa. I love you so much that I-”

You shut him up with a kiss. The kiss was more than just two lips touching. It was full of love. Full of passion. Full of 4 years of love you’d shared with this boy. 4 years of laughter, smiles, and tears.

“No harm Mason. You absolutely stink.”

He laughed, missing your banter. Even if it was just for a few hours. He never ever wanted to stop hearing your laugh.

“Guess we should shower then.” He prompted. Trying his luck.

“Showering’s a solo task.” You said.

He stood up, grabbing the back of your thighs as he lifted you, bridal style.

“When has showering ever been a solo task with us?”

Part 2???

This was inspired by a fic I read ages ago, and cant find the author :( If you do, let me know!

[asksythe]

Ah? What do you mean mpreg is built into the setting of MDZS?

I mean exactly what I said. It's part of the setting. Mpreg is part of MDZS setting.

Or rather, mpreg is part of any and all xianxia or Chinese fantasy settings. Mpreg is not impossible... or even truly rare... in xianxia setting. There are at least three different regular ways for men to get pregnant in this kind of setting, even for low xianxia like MDZS.

Xianxia is Chinese fantasy. Cultivators cultivate until immortality. The upper level of cultivation, an immortal becomes a facet of reality and bends the world to their will. Some can even create an entirely new world wholesale. What's getting pregnant compared to that?

Sure, the setting of MDZS is low xianxia. But we know at the very least a lot of MDZS cultivators are at the Jindan stage. Do you know which stage comes right after the Jindan stage?

元婴 Yuanying. The common English translation for this stage is Nascent Soul. But its real meaning is nascent / origin child/baby/infant.

How does yuanying come about? Well, a cultivator at the end of Jindan stage will go through tribulation. If they pass through tribulation successfully, the jindan (golden core) in their belly will collapse and out comes a baby. This baby then takes over the task of the jindan, circulating the cultivator's chi and feeding off of it. The baby will grow alongside the cultivator's progress, eventually maturing and potentially becoming a separate person should the parent allows it.

(Game interface from a Chinese cultivation game)

This stage is very well documented in actual real-world ancient texts by Wu Liupai, dating back to the 16th century. It's not a modern concept made up for entertainment. It's part of actual real-world Daoist practices and beliefs.

...And xianxia is the brought up to eleventh fantasy version of real-world Daoism. Think about it.

So in truth, every single high-level Jindan stage cultivator in MDZS is just one stage and one successful tribulation away from getting preggo whether they want to or not. (Yes. Every single one of them. Not just Wei Ying or Lan Wangji, but also Jiang Cheng, Lan Qiren, Lan Xichen, Xiu Xingchen, Song Lan, Nie Mingjue... if he didn't die, etc... Not Jin Guangyao, though. He's too weak to get pregnant. Jin Zixuan, maybe)

You don't even have to be a cultivator or in a xianxia setting to get pregnant (whether you are male or female or whatever). Artificially induced pregnancy has been a thing in Chinese folklore since the Summer and Autumn period (BCE). Several different classics mention a fruit called 孕果 yunguo (Lit. Pregnant Fruit). This fruit bestows the ability to get pregnant to anyone who eats it, regardless of gender. Sexual activity with a man is still required, though. Can't make something out of nothing.

And the most famous and widely known in Chinese folklore: water from the River of Mother and Child 子母河. Anyone who drinks this water becomes pregnant, regardless of gender (or even species, actually). You know the most famous person who drank it? The monk Tan Sanzang... and his disciple Zhu Bajie (a male pig), and Sha Wujing (a male fish). It's been made into several TV series and movies. In one of those movie adaptations, Tang Sanzang even carried the pregnancy to term as he wasn't willing to terminate a life and saw this as an opportunity to experience the female side of life.

In the same story, Journey to the West, a rock was pregnant with Son Wukong and gave birth to him.

You have to remember this. Ancient Chinese didn't really think of pregnancy as a biological process requiring sperm and eggs like we do today. They thought of it as a concentration and condensation of qi (breath of the world) until the 'mother body' was saturated with fetal qi and gave birth.

Real-world folklore texts are chockful of such instances where things got pregnant with the breath of the world and gave birth. And that's just regular folklore, not the brought-up-to-eleven version that is xianxia.

[potatounicoorn]

Käärijä's Helsinki live concert, mid-speeches translated

Okay as promised I will try to translate Käärijä's speeches of his concert. I am doing this as training for my English exam so I will make mistakes. Also Käärijä speaks in Finnish spoken language, and it has more slang than written language. So the translations are a polished versions of his speeches. Please correct me on my grammar mistakes! :D

---

"Good friends! Welcome to Käärijä's journey!

---

"Just like that. There is a lot of you. I heard some people have been waiting for a week in there. That requires skills. Thank you for that. Good lord give your self a big applause for this."

"Käärijä in Vantaa. From Vantaa. A sold-out Black box (the concert)."

"Nobody would have believed this. Not you, not me, no one. But accidents happen to everyone and now one happened to Käärijä.

"Amazing, let's continue."

(applause)

"Oh don't start yet, I'll take my jacket off. (A friends name?) take my jacket off."

"This leather is a bad choice for the outfit cause there are flames and everything. Leather against leather.

(The Finnish word for skin and leather is nahka so it's a fun play with words).

"A sip of water and we will continue."

"But one question! Did we come here to have fun? (Crowd cheers) Okay then we will continue."

---

"Thank you"

"Hey! Now there is this thing, and I am hoping that this friend who is coming here has drunk water. So that he won't go into the pyres, because today this one guy has a bachelor party."

(The guy in question appears, and Käärijä speaks to him. The guy wears a monkey suit)

"And I bet. And I bet you don't get any further. This will remain as a bachelor party. And you can start looking for a new friend, a new companion. I hope they are watching this."

"Hey! Here we have a monkey. And so am I."

"This job that we are doing here is really a job of a monkey. (With monkey they mean kinda silly or stupid). Glad to see someone else in this suit and next we have the song Kiertävä sirkus."

"You can go wild but don't go into the flames."

---

"Thank you! (Speaking to the monkey guy). I wish you nothing but the best and good luck."

"If everything went badly because of this, then you can move into my tiny apartment. You are always welcome."

"Okay take that monkey away."

(Speaking to the crowd again)

"It makes me glad. (He said "vetää hiljaiseksi" which means "pulls me silent", but idk how to translate that well)."

"People are wearing green and some people don't have clothes at all on them, but that is fine."

"So, have you been enjoying yourselves huh?"

(crowd cheers)

"Well yes. So I actually went to Eurovision, I don't know if anyone watched it, but-"

(cheering)

"Yes that was, that was like a basic gig in Nivala. Yeah we did that out of the way and- now we are here. So I appreciate all of you so so so so much."

"This is not self-evident, so many people want to see this circus monkey, I don't- I mean I am thinking what is wrong with you all, but it's nice that you are all here. Yeah just kidding.

"I also want to thank you for everything, you guys have made this thing, not me I just made the song. I didn't do much more than that. You guys created this around Käärijä- well I am not sure what sort of chaos this is, but you guys are guilty for that. Thank you for that."

(Crowd cheers)

"And then I would like to respect this guy called Antti Tuisku. " (Antti is a very popular and beloved Finnish singer).

"Sadly I need to tell you that Antti had much more better things to do, than come to Käärijä's concert."

"He is somewhere in Spain, with an oiled chest. Macarena- or what is that song."

"But we are trying to give our respects to him. He is apparently quitting his career, good for me, he made me some room. Thank you Antti."

"Antti was Finland's best live performer, notice "he was". Who is it now? I do not know."

"But- I was thinking we could do it for you guys (his and Antti's song "Auto jää".) We can respect Antti and- this sounds like a funeral speech. He is alive. And is doing well. Is doing better than ever."

"Antti, if you are watching this somewhere, I don't know somewhere. But if you are not watching then all the best for you. See you in Spain."

"Let's get going."

"You can sing along! I have no idea how these lyrics go, but let's try."

---

"Thank you."

"Pity that Antti didn't come."

"Antti did not come and you can't do anything about it."

(I don't know how to translate the word "onpa" but he says that a few times. Basically a word to start a sentence)

"I don't know, this makes me speechless. (the sound is not working) And now my headset is starting to get broken. I am absolutely messed up over here. I am not drunk but otherwise I'm messed up."

"There is- hey (points into the crowd) you put me messages about that hat, didn't you? Yes. Think about this, there is this one person who made a- I don't know how many weeks or months it took you to make that- that hat. Hat. First they were flexing me like "Look at this hat" and I was like oh that is kinda cool "Do you want this?".

(The person starts to point at the hat and ask does Käärijä want it)

"Why would I take it, it's yours!! Dear lord- no I can't- maybe later."

"Quite a hustle and bustle."

"Shall we continue still?"

(Crowd cheers)

"Yes we will continue- I am trying to look if there are any- all of you are my friends. And that much I want to say that welcome to Käärijä's family."

(Cheering)

"Even if you don't want to, now you are a part of Käärijä's family, because you came here. You have sold your souls to Käärijä.

(Cheers"

"And I hope everyone respects each other here, because otherwise I will come there and no one will have fun anymore."

"Because there are small family members here, so I hope they too will see something. So if there is a little Lassi somewhere in there, then take that Lassi and carry him so he could see too. Or then they can come here 10 years later."

"I feel like that 5 year old Lassi is as tall as me. Or what was its name. But I guess-"

"Okay then we will do a few new songs. We released this mixtape and decided to do those songs as well. I am kinda terrified already, (looks at a paper on the floor) and I went to look what were the names of the songs."

"Are they- Are these the songs? Well I guess there is no other choice but to do these."

"Are there anyone who bought that mixtape?"

"Well they did not sell that well but- that is why I am not even wearing a shirt on."

(A pink guy whispers something to him)

"What?"

"Is it the wrong song? That was the wrong song."

"What was it?"

"Well it was Mic mac."

"Sorry for that, I am still kinda in Liverpool, but well just ignore that."

"Let's play Mic mac then."

"If someone knows this legendary dance, you are allowed to dance."

---

"There is a mini Käärijä. Hello."

"That is cool. Is that my missing bolero? That was- you never returned it. But that's okay, it is yours now."

"Who else do we have here. What is that, a Pokemon card, a Bulbasaur- so many gifts here again."

"You guys are- a finnish flag- yes I know where we are."

"Someone came here "Really, Käärijä can't remember. We should show him that he is here in Finland, and no more in Liverpool!"

"Draw me a tattoo."

"Now you are- I will come there at some point. You are- you are- you are going hard over there, there is absolutely no sense in this."

"Dear lord."

"Does anyone else want a tattoo? I have the equipments over there."

"When this career in music starts going downhill, I was thinking about- well I guess I need to have a tattoo shop then, because so many want to take one."

"Alright, let's do more new songs then. Is that ok?"

(Crowd says yes)

"Well this is the first time we are doing these live, so give us some air and mercy. We are a bit confused, but that's the spirit."

"Let's go."

---

"Thank you."

"That went surprisingly well. A bit of confusion, but that is okay. Forgive me."

"And then there would be this "Morgan", has anyone heard it?"

(cheering)

"I can tell you, yesterday when we were practicing it- it was horrifying to watch. Let's hope it is today, just as horrifying to watch."

"So let's go!"

---

"Thank you (starts laughing)"

"Guys, you should never present a song you learned yesterday."

"But that went quite well, didn't it?"

"Yeah, the same thing was with Eurovision. I learned the lyrics a day before the show, and it went well!"

"Hey it is absolutely amazing. Life ain't so serious. It's good to go wild sometimes, but like nicely, no stupid things."

"I also want to say hey to the back row."

(cheering)

"Käärijä's concerts rarely have a back row, but now there is one."

"That is very nice, welcome here. I hope you can see something, I'm kinda a tiny short guy."

"People have been talking about how tall Käärijä is. So you know what?"

"I don't know."

"That's it."

"Let's go to the next song!"

---

"That kind. That song."

"Hey, a question. Always interesting a question like this."

"How many people knew about Käärijä before UMK?"

(Crowd answers)

"Not everyone could have know no. Where have you been those days? When Käärijä sang lonely gigs? In Pudasjärvi, in a corner of a pizzeria. Haven't seen you guys there."

"How many of you, Käärijä was not really known, before UMK?"

(Crowd answers again)

"Well now it badly seems like, people are trying to get pity pints to Käärijä. Same guys who said "Yes I have listened" raised their hands in "I haven't listened"."

"Well it is what it is. That I will never know. Numbers will know."

(The person with a tattoo sign is waving their sign)

"You are still swinging there. We should take a hotel room later, now take it easy. We will make that tattoo."

"Wow. Are there- How many made a bolero?"

(People raise their hands, one guy is jumping, Käärijä points at him)

"You. The same crazy person again here. I can never get rid of you. Now you have some kind of a teddy bear with you. What gig was it- it was Lap- Lappeenranta?"

"This guy stole the whole show."

"You got paid and everything."

"Yes well- yes no wonder Kärtsäri is not driving around with a fancy car when this one guy takes it all (the money)."

(The guy takes his wig off)

"Put that potty back you looked better in it."

"Hey I want to- there is a bolero. I first of all want to thank you- I am usually not the one to say thank you, I am that kind of a person who is not thanking everyone. That's not who I am. Thanking everyone is more of Antti's thing, not mine."

"But I want to say, to all the families that there here. Are there any families here?"

(Crowd answers)

"I assumed at first of course that "Yess there are families here". And nobody came. Let's just say, the smallest family members welcome here, and I hope parents know where they just took their kids. And I try to behave accordingly, today. This is the last time."

"This is the coolest thing that has happened to me, honestly."

(Crowd cheers)

"There- there in Liverpool the fact that there were 15 thousand people and 250 million people watching from TV, this is much cooler. Thank you for that."

(Crowd cheers)

"Even if I lie a lot, I am not lying about this."

"Okay shall we continue?"

"Hey, will any shirts come off? Next up is Paidaton riehuja (shirtless rampage) so will any come off? There! There went one."

"Remember at Käärijä's concert we are all family, so you can take off your shirt no matter gender or who you are. Of course be aware of the smallest family members, so they wont get trauma."

(Points at the crowd)

"What kind of a duck costume are you wearing?"

"You have come to the wrong concert, no but let's go."

---

(Käärijä goes near the crowd.)

"Thank you"

"Like that."

(Someones money drops)

"Your money dropped here."

(A little kid in a pink dress comes next to Käärijä)

"You- oh goddaughter even came here. Go fast to your mother or you'll drown there (in the crowd)."

(People give him stuff. Käärijä leads the kid back)

"Are these for me? Thank you. Amazing. (girl's name maybe?)"

(Käärijä goes back to the stage)

"I'll go back to the stage, I didn't go back home like some of you thought."

(Someone in the crowd shouts something, I am not sure what)

"It will come, it will come. It is the next one actually."

"Let's see. First time ever I had to do a set list. Because there are like 16 songs here."

"I am not sure what these songs are, but here they are."

"What are these songs? Do we even have time to do these all? Hey, before Urheilujätkä, there will be Hirttää kiinni."

"Is that okay?"

(He asks "Hirttääkö jengillä kiinni? Hyvä niin minullakin", not sure how to translate it right.)

---

"Kärtsäri's concert haven't had this kind of a feeling in a long time."

"Old man's pump is starting to fail, I hope our first aid is ready. Okay no that was a joke, no need to worry."

(Watching fan signs)

"What is there? "Greetings to mom and dad" my parents? Do you have something to say to my dad? "Cha cha cha, hirttää kiinni ja Mic mac" very well... "

"That is a cool sign, I need to give you my respects. My apartment is full of drawings, and shoes and socks and... I sleep on top of all the fan made things... and I don't have the money to move to a bigger apartment yet, but maybe someday for sure."

(Points to the crowd)

"Why are you jumping over there?"

"Cool is your bolero, what is it made of? Sheets maybe? No, just kidding, it's amazing."

(Cameraman is filming a fan with a sign "Make a <3 if you think Bojan is hot" Käärijä sadly did not notice :( Love the fan for trying)

"Soon we will give you some cha cha cha. And and well not yet, I tricked you guys a little, but soon."

"Before that, I would like to ask some people- wait I need to check who I was supposed to ask here."

"Yeah my memory left in- I need to say that this journey from Liverpool- no actually from UMK to here has really been a journey of some kind. And you people have made me come through it. I must say that if people think that this kind of life is just some highlight and very cool- this is very cool yes, but there are a lot of dark sides into this."

But I must say that the moment I see so many people here because of me- Dear lord."

"If my mom comes here well that is normal, but this many people, I am not sure how many is just wow. Nobody probably bought their own ticket here. You won your tickets from some cereal packet or-"

"Hey next I would like to ask people here on the stage. First of all I am asking my friend, who is actually the reason why I am on music business at all, and I have learned a lot from him and he is a dear friend. We have been through some hardships but we are still friends and I hope it stays like that, so now with a big applause welcome to the stage Soni!!! (I think it was Soni)"

(crowd cheers)

Soni: "Good evening"

Käärijä: "Pay your debts"

Soni:: "Tomorrow"

Käärijä: "Welcome to the stage"

Soni: "Thank you thank you"

"And next I would like to ask, one friend, who we made the first Käärijä song with and my best friend. Who was with me in Liverpool as an interpreter but he didn't get to do anything cause I became so good in English. My English is kinda good nowadays."

"Yes yes mister worldwide here"

"Applause to Jesse!!!!!"

"And before all this I will go get this one shirt. Where is it? Here."

Soni: "Does anyone have lamps on their phones? Could we get those up for the next song?"

Jesse: "This is the moment"

"This is very awkward to wear this shirt on. But is e here, is uncle Jaska here somewhere? Sportguy himself."

"He is not. Hey now it looks cool. Are you ready before the big final? Let's go!"

---

""Well that was a journey."

Joni: "What a circus."

"Jesse over here has played hockey before. Can't believe he is here now. Well career didn't start on that area and Jesse is not doing anything in this area either."

"Hey a few songs left I hope you have all enjoyed. Tomorrow I will go to a vacation so don't try to contact me. I won't answer. Cause now Kärtsäri needs a vacation."

"A few songs left and then you can all go to home to sleep. Are you ready?"

"I'll go take my shirt of and then we will continue."

(Someone shouts take your pants off)

"Pants off? These pants are stuck in my skin. So they won't leave. If you didn't know I actually sleep in these."

"Journey has been hard and it has a prize and that we pay."

"Next we will have a tense atmosphere"

"So let's continue."

---

(Crowd shouts Cha cha cha)

---

"Thank you!!!!"

"Give a big applause to yourselves! Give a big applause to the dancers! And give a big applause to my pink friends!"

"Do you want it to play again?"

"DO YOU WANT IT AGAIN?"

"Okay let's do it, now everyone goes as hard as they can!"

---

"Thank you!"

"Dear god, thank you thank you thank you!"

"Now my tank is empty and I will go to a vacation. remember to take a break and have a vacation."

"I will remember this always, I don't remember anything from the Eurovision show but this I will always remember. Thank you!"

"And I hope we can take one family photo. Everyone here, YLE will shut the TV soon. Okay good, good. And you can lift our hands."

(Crowd is chanting "Winner! Winner! Winner!")

"Thank you! See you in the future and maybe somewhere else!"

"Thank you, thank you. Goodbye!"

---

And with that I have decided to never translate anything ever again. Why did I think this would take an hour max? Anyway I hope this was useful to someone out there. It was a fun protect and after this, my English exam better be a 10.

GOODNIGHT!!!!! <3

[munsons-melody]

putting the x in sixx (part 2)

summary: with corroded coffin now on tour with the boys of mötley crüe, nikki sixx takes the time to keep trying to get to you

pairing: rockstar!boyfriend!Eddie x female!reader

cw: mentions drugs/drug abuse,

recommended song: you’re all i need by mötley crüe

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this was a request and i was over the moon to write it!! also not very proofread :)

requested? yep :))

masterlist

part 1 can be found here

i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.

——

"uh huh... yes... yes of course... yep... okay... okay great thanks man" eddie said as he hung up the phone, turning to you with the biggest smile on his face

"good news?" you asked excitedly, moving up from your laying position on the couch, turning off the tv

"we're going on tour!" eddie screamed, jumping up and down causing you to giggle

"wait what? huh? explain!" you leaped from the couch to where he walked over to the living room

"that was our manager, he apparently talked to his buddy doc who talked to the boys of mötley crüe and said they loved our sound and our stage presence and when they go on tour they want us to open!" he explained, talking fast

your jaw dropped and you squealed, pulling him in close, wrapping your arms around his neck as you jumped and your legs wrapped around his waist

he held you close until you heard a small sniffle, and moved so you carefully landed on the ground

"eddie baby you okay?" you asked, moving a few strands of hair away from his face and wiping a tear that was falling down his cheek

he nodded and sniffled again, wiping the tears away from his face and looked at you

"i just can't believe it, i'm so happy" he admitted as you held his face gently and leaned into kiss him

as you pulled away, your brow furrowed in confusion "wait don't you need to tell the rest of the band?" you let out a small chuckle and eddie's eyes widened

"oh shit yeah thank you love you" he said, kissing you fast before running to the phone again

——

it was 2 weeks later and tour rehearsals were in full swing along with corroded coffin recording songs for their new album and mötley crüe doing endless press for their girls, girls, girls album that had just come out

you hadn't seen much of the boys of mötley crüe due to their heavy promo schedule, occasionally seeing vince in the studio helping eddie with some vocals, and of course, mick just appearing randomly, fueling yours and Eddie's inside joke that he truly was an alien with superpowers- reminding you of a specific girl that once escaped hawkins lab that led you to meet eddie

"god i'm just so excited for the tour!" you said excitedly, walking in between Jeff and Gareth into the rehearsal studio

eddie was stuck at the recording studio with dougie for another hour while you accompanied the boys to the rehearsal space as they deemed it necessary you be there since eddie couldn't

"me too! can you believe we're actually here and doing this?" gareth replied, matching the excitement in your voice

the three of you continued to talk as you walked through the corridors of the large building before appearing at the double doors before the room that served as the rehearsal room

you already heard Vince, singing out the last few high notes of 'dancing on glass' when the three of you walked in, standing there watching them finish up the song

once they were done, you clapped along with jeff and gareth and nikki looked at you, smiling

"great guys, take 5... and no bump- we have a lot to get through today" doc said in a grumpy voice before patting mick on the back and turning to talk to some other important looking person

nikki set down his bass carefully on its stand and walked over to where you were standing

"hey stranger" he said and you felt a blush creep onto your face

"hey yourself" you replied back with a smile

"didn't know you were going to be here today" he said casually and you nodded, turning to where gareth was once standing until you realized he was in conversation with jeff and their manager steve

"yeah well eddie's stuck in the studio for another hour and the guys wanted me to come watch them rehearse so here i am" you joked and he chuckled

"well i'm very glad you got to see us perform a little bit of our song" he said

"me too, i'm excited to see it on stage in a month when tour starts" you admitted, tucking your hair behind your ear while nikki gave you a confused look

"wait are you coming with us?" he asked and you nodded

"uh yeah i'm staying with eddie for the entire tour" you smiled and he did a slow nod and pursed his lips

"good to know" he said with a smirk when you heard tommy yell "sixx! we're doing girls now!"

"that's my cue... maybe you should stick around and watch us play, i'm very good at doing girls" he winked at you before turning around and walking back to where his bass sat

it didn't click until you heard the intro to their hit girls girls girls, that you understood the joke and for a second you felt stupid before you realized that nikki was hitting on you again... was he always this persistent with every other girl he's ever slept with? not like it mattered anyways, you were with eddie, and the happiest you've ever been

before you can fathom another thought about nikki, talking to you, the door swung open, and you saw eddie and dougie, walking in with smiles plastered on their faces

eddie immediately walked up to you and gave you the biggest kiss and wrapped his arms around you

"hey you still had like half an hour left before you had to be here?" you questioned with a laugh and he pulled back to look at you

"it's crazy, i just was able to sing every perfect note with the right amount of energy and dougie just knew the exact notes of what to play to help me and it was like everything just clicked and we finally nailed it, so now i can watch the rest of their rehearsal with you" he smiled, lacing your finger together

your heard the drums starting up along with the guitars and bass, and took eddie to one of the couches facing the set up as vince started singing

you've heard this song at least a thousand times, and you liked it too, but as you were sitting with eddie's arm around you, half your back leaned into his chest, it was hard to watch them perform with nikki's eyes fixed on you

this might be a long tour... you thought to yourself

——

the past week had been a blur with traveling all up and down the east coast, but you were finally in New York City, after a month into the tour

you were hanging out in the dressing room while corroded coffin did their sound check

you heard their songs being played in a row so many times within the past month that you took the opportunity to hang out in the dressing room and get a moment to yourself

you had just flipped, open a new magazine, and lay down on one of the plush couches in the room when there is a knock at the door, and before you could even get up to answer it, it was none other than Nikki walking into the room

"oh shit hey sorry didn't know you were in here" he laughed, attempting to turn around to walk out when you got up

"oh, no, it's fine, i just needed a break from everything, god this tour has been so hectic... i don't even know how you can put up with it all" you joked and he chuckled

"with this my dear" he laughed and pulled out a small bottle that you immediately recognized

"ah yeah right" you said, awkwardly smiling at him as he sat down at the table across from you

you aren't uncomfortable with drugs, as your boyfriend used to be a dealer back when you two were in high school but you've never actually seen anyone snort anything right in front of you

"want some?" he asked as he set it up on the table and you shook your head

"no thanks i'm good" you said as he took out a card from his pocket

he did his business and as his head came up, he looked at you, his eyes looking straight into yours

"what?" you asked, secretly praying that he wasn't somehow going to just OD right in front of you with how long he was staring at you before he finally spoke, which calmed your nerves

"i don't know why the fuck i can't stop thinking about you, but jesus christ i've fucked every girl i wanted, and yet you're still on my mind..." he said, fiddling with the card in his hand

you looked at him with raised eyebrows before you finally found the courage to speak again

"oh wow uhm... that's blunt" you choked out

"i'm that type of guy" he said before taking in another line

"listen nikki-"

"god even the way you say my name is so hot" he breathed out and you found yourself blushing yet again at his words

"i will admit years ago before i met eddie... i had the biggest crush on you and yes if i wasn't in the the most amazing loving relationship with eddie and these were all different circumstances, then it probably would've happened, but that's not what's going on and honestly, i highly doubt you'll even remember this conversation in a few hours" you finally said as he just stared at you

the tension was so thick you could chop it with an ax, and it would still be there, but eventually he leaned up from a seat, and took another line before falling back into his chair

"if i could turn back time" he started to sing and you let out a laugh

"if i could find a way" he continued

"oh now you're gonna try and seduce me with cher?" you joked and he let out a laugh

"no just manifesting i build a time machine and go back in time" he said, staring at the ceiling

"you know, for someone who likes to sleep around and not commit or come off as anything more than being a sexual partner to the opposite sex, you do have very romantic words" you admitted with a laugh and he shook his head with a smile

"i think tommy and his stupid hopeless romanticness is rubbing off on me" he laughed and you smiled

you heard cheers and screams from outside your door when it burst open to see a very wet corroded coffin barging into the room

"oh my god babe it started raining when we were outside on the stage and so after we finished up the last song we ran around on the grass and it was the most amazing thing!" eddie yelled walking to you and shaking his hair like a wet dog

"agh! babe!" you squealed with a laugh as he went to pick you up

you turned to run so he wouldn't pick you up to get you all wet but as you did, you fell right into nikki who was getting up

you landed on him he sat in the chair, your bum pressed against his crotch perfectly

"shit sorry!" you said, scrambling to get up

"don't ever apologize for getting this close to me" he quickly whispered, looking into your eyes before you got up, looking at eddie who had his head flipped over as he dried his long hair with a towel

"see you tonight boys! have a good show!" nikki yelled before giving you one last glance and headed out the door

—

it was an hour before showtime, and you sat with Eddie on the small loveseat in the dressing room, pretending to be in your own little bubble before you had to share your boyfriend with the rest of the world well the rest of the boys were trying to hype each other up and blasting the radio

you ended up telling him about everything that happened with nikki that day, and you sat there feeling guilty for no reason when eddie grabbed your hand and locked his fingers with yours

"y/n there's no reason to feel bad, i'm just thankful o have a girlfriend that's loyal enough to me that when nikki sixx is hitting on her, she doesn't cave, especially when you had the biggest crush on him... i love you and i trust you and just know that nothing you do will ever change that for me" he said, looking at you, bringing his other hand up to gently stroke your cheek

"i love you too eds" you said, immediately feeling better, and you wrapped your arms around his neck and the two of you switched positions so you could lay down together

"and honestly if you're feeling uncomfortable, i have no problem fighting him, he'll probably be too doped up to even realize he's in a fight" he joked causing you to laugh

"thanks but babe have you ever actually won a fight outside DnD?" you questioned and his face dropped into an expression of confusion and thinking

"uh not technically, well this one time-" you cut him off by kissing him and the second you pulled away, you could see the enamoration and love he has for you wash over his face

"when do we stop in Vegas?" you asked and he looked away for a moment as he thought about the schedule

"uh maybe like 2 weeks from tomorrow i think our show is there? why?" he asked and you smiled

"i think we should get married" you said as a smile grew on eddie's face

"you want to elope?" he asked and you nodded

"the whole nikki thing made me further realize that the only man i ever want to be with for the rest of my life is you eds, and i think it'll be romantic just the two of us together"

"sounds like a plan" he said ecstatically, kissing you

"wait what about nancy? didn't you and her already start planning wedding stuff, aren't you each others maids of honor or something?" eddie asked you once you pulled away

"what she doesn't know can't hurt her" you joked

soon enough, it was time for the boys to go on stage, and you kissed Eddie one last time before he ran from the side of the stage into the center as the music started to play

——

you had just finished corroded coffin's set and were in the middle of watching mötley crüe's set, standing in the private section of the crowd to catch a couple of their songs before you headed back to the tour bus

"this next one goes out to someone in particular, hope you know i remembered the conversation babe" nikki said as the beginning of 'you're all i need' started to play

you looked at eddie, who was looking right at you and you both let out a small laugh, knowing about the conversation you had with nikki earlier and how you believed that he wouldn't even realize what he said till just now

"you know i love this song" you joked as you moved his arms around your waist and yours around his neck

you were pulled in close to eachother, enjoying the song as you stared into each others eyes and stealing kisses from eachother, feeling like the only two people in the arena

"yeah, i know you" he smiled

"you could probably write a better ballad that's all about me" you said and eddie shook his head with a smile

"don't you think nikki will be upset i'll have my own personal love song dedicated to only you as your wonderful, soon to be husband?" eddie said with a laugh and you let out a chuckle

"what he doesn't know can't hurt him" you smiled

fin.

[atalentedwriter]

— snooze and miss the moment

paring: e-42!miles x fem!reader

a/n: i don't speak spanish i'm sorry but i used the most accurate translator i could find. if i made ANY mistakes, feel free to hmu and tell me i will certainly change em. also didn't like forgive me so i deleted it lol sorry forgive me (get it 🤭)

taglist: @looorelaaaiii

sypnosis: in which the reader and miles take a day to unwind from the stress of day to day life and his secret alter ego as the prowler.

wordcount: 2,103 words and 10,898 characters

genre: fluff, teenagers, romance, slightly suggestive but not really, established relationship

translations: "they can't hear you" - "no te oyen" "hey" - "hola" "you shouldn't have" - "no deberías tener" "whatever you say" - "lo que tú digas" "you've got the loveliest voice" - "tienes la voz más hermosa" "my love" - "mi amor" "my life" - "mi vida"

"Don't go in there girl, you know the killer is ALWAYS in the cabin!" You scream at the tv and Miles has to put a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. You two were watching a horror movie and the characters were pissing you off with their stupid decisions.

"Damn mami chill out, no te oyen." He said with a chuckle and smile before turning back to the tv as you sunk into his arms on the couch.

It was a late night and you two were in your bedroom which had a bed and desk on the right with a tv and couch across from it. It was a stress-relief night- that's what you called it at least. You had these once a month or whenever miles' busy schedule doing God knows what clears up.

Prepping for tonight was the most exciting thing to happen today. You bought new matching pajamas for both of you, hello kitty for him and kuromi for you. You spent HOURS perfecting stitch braids on your braiding doll so you could try it on Miles. You also created a slow playlist for both of you, one of the songs being "Snooze" by SZA. Miles put you on, it was the song he played for you on your first date and it immediately became your song.

You had also bought facemasks and extra nail polish, as well as a bunch of snacks and more.

Miles arrived at your door at 9PM when both of your parents were to be out the house for date night.

"Hola mami." Miles cupped your face to give you a small kiss on your lips, you had to pull apart before he turned it into a makeout session. "What?"

"You'll get your kisses Miles, but for I prepared a lot of stuff to do, come." You urged him into the house and shut the door, locking it as he noticed the matching pajamas on the couch.

"For me? Oh mami no deberías tener." Miles picks up his pants and walks over to you to give you another kiss but you swerve him.

"Bathroom, go change." You say as he rolls his eyes jokingly, walking over to the bathroom to change. You grab your stuff and head to your room, changing into your kuromi pants as well. Once you were done, you heard a knock on your door.

"Come in."

Miles steps in, wearing his hello kitty pants and the same green hoodie from earlier, folded sweatpants in his hands. He puts it on top of your dresser and looks you up and down. A red tube top with your baggy kuromi pajama pants. the waistband hung a bit low showing the top of your nike underwear pants.

He raised an eyebrow, a small smile peeking on his lips before he hid his amusement to look up at you. "And is there any reason you asked me to take my hair out?" He didn't have his usual 2 braids, just his regular 4c hair in a low bun and you brightly smiled.

"Yes , actually, come sit." You walked over to the couch and sat down, a tray with a bunch of hair cair products, a comb and a rattail comb sitting next to you. "I wanna braid your hair."

He shrugged and sat between your legs, reaching his hand up to squeeze your thigh. "You sure mami?"

"Yeah, I spent hours perfecting stitch braids and I..wanted to try on you." You grab your comb as he reached down, pulling the rubber band out of his hair, revealing it to be much fuller and bigger than you thought.

You go silent. What the fuck was Mrs. Morales using and why did he have healthier and better hair than you? You were a bit envious, you were definitely gonna ask for haircare tips after.

"You good up there mami?" He raised his head up to look at you and you reach down to move his head back straight.

"Mhm..I got it, don't worry."

"Lo que tú digas" He says as you start combing through his hair which felt like silk, the comb quickly and easily moved through. Miles hummed as he closed his eyes, resting his head in your thighs.

"You're not tender-headed are you?"

"Nah..go crazy." He reached up to rest his arm on your thigh as you picked up the rattail comb, parting it down the middle and applying gel.

"Snooze" by SZA filled the room as you silently sung along to it. You stopped and moved your head down till you were face to face with Miles. He opened his eyes to look at you in confusion and you smiled, singing along with the lyrics.

"I can't loose, when I'm with you, how can I snooze and miss the moment? You just too important, nobody do body like you do"

Miles laughed at your antics and leaned in to kiss your cheek but you moved back, giggling.

"Uht uht, lemme finish." You sat back straight to continue braiding his hair as he closed his eyes again.

"Tienes la voz más hermosa (name)." Miles said as you smile to yourself.

Minutes later you had finally finished and top it off with some rubberbands at the ends.

"You done?" Miles asked as you nodded. "Lemme see."

You nervously handed your man the mirror as he opened his eyes to look at it. He was silent for a second, moving his head to the side to see it better.

"You like it?" You asked and he raised his head up to look at you with a smile. "Or it's like nah?"

"It's dope, I fuck wit it.." He paused and looked up at your satisfied expression. "Lemme rephrase. I love it mi amor" He said as your smile grew bigger.

"I got something hold on." You move his head back into position placing some cute hello kitty pins on his head, he watched you through the mirror intently as your face focused to find the perfect spots for the clips. "There, is it cute?"

"You got me putting all sorts of shit in my hair...I like it." He turned to face you, raising an eyebrow. "Do i get my kiss now?"

"No." You turn him back around as he playfully pouts before you chuckle. "I'm joking, c'mere." You move his head upwards so he was upside down, at least in your pov, and you kissed his lips slowly, cupping his face.

His hand that was holding the mirror up fell down to the ground as he pushed himself upwards to get the kiss deeper. As you both pulled back he had a goofy grin on his face, one you rarely saw.

It returned back to a smirk just as fast as it appeared, it was gone. He looked back into the mirror and raised an eyebrow, looking up at you. "You tryna be my personal stylist ma?"

You couldn't even clock what he was saying, he looked so good upside down like that. It took you a second before it registered in your head. "Huh...? Oh yeah, if you want."

Next up was face masks. You both were in your bathroom, and Miles watched you, arms crossed as you take out the masks from the paper bags they were in and placed them on the counter in front of your mirror.

"And that does what?" He asked, that was something he never seen before. I mean, he does skincare, his mom made him do it since birth but when it came to facemasks he always preferred a gel his mom always got for him.

"It exfoliates the skin and combats acne. Plus it gives you smooth skin." You say, looking up at him as he raises an eyebrow with a smirk.

"If you wanted smooth skin, we could've just done it another way mami." He wanted to crack up, his jokes get him sometimes.

You stare at him, looking up through the glasses you had on. "Why are you always so nasty?"

"I can't help it mi vida you do something to me." He whined as you stoped the emerging smirk on your face. "I know you wanna laugh."

"Miles." You turned away to hide your smile before looking back at him. "You need to start getting on your knees for Christ."

"Okay, pastor."

That got it. You both erupted into laughter, Miles laughing because you laughed and you just couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Boy- anyway." You collected yourself as you giggled a little bit. "Do you want the hello kitty mask or the kuromi mask"

Miles pointed and looked at you. "Hello kitty please."

You took the mask out of the packaging before instructing him to sit down on the covered toilet seat due to him being taller than you. He obliged and you gently put the mask on him as he closed his eyes. You used your fingertips to smoothen out the mask on its sides.

"Damn, I've been missing out." He says as he stands up and you both walk over to the counter. He puts his hands on his face which was covered by the cute pink mask.

"Soft right?" You gently apply the purple mask on your face and he helps you smoothen out the sides like you did for him. "We look so good, hold on." You brought out your phone to take a mirror pic as Miles walked behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head in the crook of your neck as you snapped some pics. One where you both flashed grins at the camera, another where he was kissing your neck and another where he jokingly bent you over the counter, both of you making faces.

As the facemasks worked on your face, you both sat down on your bed, your nail kit open as Miles raised an eyebrow, looking through the colors.

"Matching nails?" He asked as you showed him the hello kitty nails you had gotten for yourself the other day.

"Yeah, I got hello kitty and I figured I could do a little kuromi for you." You smile at Miles who ponders over your words. "Pleaseeee?" You take his hands and pout playfully, blinking as you looked up at him.

He sighed. "Yeah okay whatever ma." He smirked as a huge smile graced your lips and you picked aside some colors.

"I have some kuromi nail thingamabobs so-"

"Thingamabobs? Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Miles asked as you grabbed the base coat bottle.

"Relax, I know you're supposed to put it on the nail, if you want i can just like try to draw the character instead?"

"Don't fuck me up mami."

And there you two were, half an hour or more later, on the couch, cuddled together and wrapped in blankets while eating snacks and watching scary movies.

You had painted Miles' nails black and purple and on the middle fingers for both of his hands was the character, Kuromi. You actually did a pretty good job drawing it but that's because Miles was stressing you to do a good job.

As the movie ended in a gory mess, you turned to look at Miles who was already staring at you. "What? Something on my face?" You asked and he smirked.

"Nah, you're just beautiful." It caught you off guard but he normally did that, he compliments you at random times to see how shocked and cute your flustered face is.

"Pfft- you're corny" You laugh, turning away to hide your face but Miles' noticed the big smile. You turned back to him. "Is there anything else you wanna do loverboy?"

Miles narrowed his eyes at you. "...I've got some ideas."

"Wha- MILES!"

He grabbed you, picking you up bridal style before placing you on the couch. In one swift motion you were under him and he was hovering above you, his legs between your thighs and his arms on both sides of your body, keeping you trapped.

"Tell the truth, I look better under you" He smirked down at you and as if on command, "Snooze" by SZA started playing again and Miles lowered himself and attached his lips onto yours.

Apart from SZA's smooth and slow voice, the only other thing that filled the room was the low volume of the tv which was playing the movie credits and the faint sound of lips smacking and small moans. Miles had moved one hand down to your thigh, putting it on his hip as he rubbed it gently but firmly.

"Damn."

[landofzero-archive]

Eden TRIP Album MC Talk Series

Season: ☆

MC 1

Hiyori: “Thank you for coming to our, Eden’s, independent live today! It sure is a blessing to be able to celebrate the album release together!

We’ve loaded our love into the songs to be delivered to you. Receive them without leaving out a single one, okay……♪”

Jun: “The first song we performed was KEEP OUT.

How was this song that was specifically written for the album?”

Nagisa: “…… I’m glad that you seem to like it. KEEP OUT means ‘no trespassing’.

…… We’re going to break into everyone’s hearts. Into the shining paradise, like a lurking viper.”

Ibara: “And then we will slowly and carefully pour poison into you, and show you sweet dreams.

So that tonight’s stage may become an unforgettable memory……♪”

Jun: “Afterwards, we’ll perform two songs; one after the other~ That first song is—”

Nagisa and Ibara: “…… Melting Rouge Soul.”

MC 2

Ibara: “Melting Rouge Soul from Adam, and Ruby Love from Eve have been performed.

Both of these were songs unveiled at Chocolat Fes— during Valentine’s season.

Nagisa: “…… Yeah. At that time, the fact that both Adam and Eve were releasing new songs at the same time became a hot topic.

…… The cheering during the moment Ibara and I said “Melting Rouge Soul” felt really good.”

Ibara: “Fufu. I’m sure there are a lot of people who did not expect it because it’s called Eden’s independent live.

I told you, didn't I? That I’ll show you sweet dreams……♪”

Hiyori: “Adam’s fans, Eve’s fans, as well as Eden’s fans—

Today we will satisfy every single person who loves us.

You’re prohibited from looking away! Keep your eyes on us till the very end♪

Jun-kun, you can’t blink either!”

Jun: “Eeh, please let me blink~ My eyes will get dry.

Oh, seems like they got everything ready while we were talking. The next song will be a solo song.

Ibara Saegusa’s— Salute Desire.”

MC 3

Ibara: “— That was Salute Desire

Oops. Thank you for the warm applause.

Though I endeavored to give a more perfect performance than usual—

During a solo song, everyone’s gazes are concentrated on me from every possible angle, so my mind could not even be inattentive for even a single moment.

Above all else, I’m glad that you were satisfied♪

Now, let me briefly introduce myself.

I am Eden’s Ibara Saegusa. Salute~☆

As you see, alongside my idol activities, I’m also serving concurrently as the producer of Eden and the vice president of the agency.

I’m very happy to be able to deliver the new song as well as the accompanying event to everyone.

I will continue to work energetically, so I ask you to please continue to treat Eden and Cosmic Production well☆

The next song will be brought to you by the four members of Eden.

Let us show you our way of life— Paradise Banishment -Faith Conquest-”

MC 4

Nagisa: “…… We’ve performed Paradise Banishement -Faith Conquest-.

…… It was first unveiled during Conquest wasn’t it. It’s a song containing Eden’s faith.

…… Hiyori-kun doesn’t really like it, I wonder?”

Hiyori: “No. I like the song itself. It’s a song that’s just like Eden.

But I’ve had enough of Conquest! Even if it’s a farce, I don’t want to act like we’re fighting and hating each other.

We’re aaaalways been the best united, mutually loving, unit—

I’m sure the fans don’t want to see us like that too.”

Nagisa: “…… I agree. The loud cheers that could shake the whole venue is the greatest proof of that.

…… Let’s keep getting along, Hiyori-kun.

…… As an ‘equal friend.’”

Hiyori: “Yes. ‘Equal’……♪

-Now now, next would be something everyone has been waiting for, my solo song!

Accept My Love— accept my love……!”(1)

TL Note:

He translates “Accept My Love” into Japanese here.

MC 5

Hiyori: “Thank you for listening to Accept My Love!

Yes yes. You’re smiling so much, I’m happy too☆

I’ll follow Ibara’s example and introduce myself. I am Eden’s Hiyori Tomoe!

Life isn’t all about fun. There’s times where you feel depressed and like you want to cry.

When that happens, it’s good to look at me. Because I’m the one who shines bright like the sun☆

Listen to my songs, and follow the productions I appear in—

Just imitate me and smile! Since I always have a smile on my face!

If you smile, the people around you will also smile. It’s a happiness chain reaction. What fine weather……☆

Now! Let’s move on to the next song, shall we?

All four of us will perform it, so please give us all of your support.

Eden’s— EXCEED.”

MC 6

Jun: “I’ve just performed EXCEED. This song is—”

Ibara: “Isn’t this a song with a shady history for you, Jun?”

Jun: “Wait a sec. Could you please stop saying misleading things~?

It’s not like it’s got a shady history or anything, umm……

When we released this song, I had lost my confidence and kept makin’ mistakes.

But then, Ibara went out of character and comforted me by saying,’Why do you lose confidence when there are people who view you so favorably?’……”

Ibara: “‘Out of character’ is superfluous.”

Jun: “Haha. I won’t be able to be the same as Ohiisan, Nagi-senpai, or Ibara, but to that extent—

No. That’s why, as Jun Sazanami, I’ll continue to put in the effort as myself.

Eden is where I belong, y’know~

Haha, thank you for all the applause. Sorry if I sounded like I was urging y’all to do something.”

Ibara: (Whispering) …… Honestly, Jun really was an idiot during that time.

There are so many people who love you.

Jun: “Hm? I couldn’t hear it over the applause, but you said something, right?”

Ibara: “No, it’s nothing. Please continue talking about yourself after you finish singing.

Now then, please listen. Jun Sazanami’s— Unlock the Soul.”

MC 7

Jun: “Hello, everyone. It’s Eden’s Jun Sazanami.

How was Unlock the Soul?

The lyrics were good, weren’t they~. When I sing them, I get excited.

Speaking of lyrics, apparently Ibara wrote the lyrics to the song I just sang, EXCEED, for me.

Wha~t? People might think I sound conceited when I say that.

But Nagi-senpai said it was to help me get over my slump or something. There’s no doubting it~

Well. That Ibara, he can be really kind sometimes~♪

Haha. Ibara’s looking at me from the side of the stage with a face like he just swallowed a bitter bug.

I shouldn’t get carried away, or I’ll probably get scolded later~

Now that I’ve told a story just for this special occasion, let’s get to the next song.

Eden’s— Absolute Perfection.”

MC 8

Nagisa: “…… Absolute Perfection. This is the first song we performed at Absolute.

…… I am God♪

…… Ibara, please look. Everyone’s rejoicing.”

Ibara: “It seems so. Unlike Absolute’s stage, this is a country where countless gods rule.”

Nagisa: “…… That’s not the only reason.

…… There are many people here who love us. They weren’t present at Absolute either.”

Ibara: “Indeed. The presence of fans is an idol’s strength—their powerful weapon.

However. It’s not normal for Eden to be completely dependent on our fans.

Let’s be ourselves and make a triumphant return to Absolute with our utmost strength.

Then, we will receive our laurels and make ourselves known. Eden are the best idols in the world.”

Nagisa: “…… Yes. I’m sure our fans want that as well.

…… Because we’re the strongest idols, Eden.

…… Next, I’ll perform my solo song.”

Ibara: “Everyone please listen. Nagisa Ran’s—We’re all alone.”

MC 9

Nagisa: “…… You just listened to We’re all alone.

…… I’m Eden’s Nagisa Ran. Thank you for coming to our live today.

…… Each song has its own memories. I was remembering all that happened while singing.

…… I wonder if you all have had the same experience? Since music and memories are connected to one another and committed to memory.

…… I wonder if everyone has some kind of emotional attachment to Eden’s songs.

…… If possible, I would like to ask each and every one of you individually. But, it would be difficult to do that today.

…… It would make me happy if you could let me know through a letter or handshake event.

…… I hope our songs may touch everyone’s hearts.

…… ‘The eternal paradise that touches the heart’— that’s what Eden is.

…… And now, it’s almost time for the end.

…… We’ll perform two songs in a row at the end. Eden’s— Awakening Myth.”

MC 10

Nagisa: “……  It’s a shame, but let’s close the door to paradise.”

Jun: “It was nice to meet you. Thank you for coming to Eden’s independent live today!

Did you all have fun at our live?”

Hiyori: “You got to see my finest performance, so it must have been fun!

I swear on Ibara’s glasses that it’s true☆”

Ibara: “Could you please not involve me? If you’re going to swear on something, swear on Jun’s life instead.”

Hiyori: “That’s no good! Jun-kun’s life is mine!”

Jun: “My life is my own. Could you not swear on it so casually~?”

Nagisa: “…… Hey, can I close the door to paradise?”

Jun: “C’moon, Nagi-senpai is bothered now, isn’t he?”

Hiyori: “Don’t make it sound like it’s my fault! It’s collective responsibility!”

Jun: “Alright alright. Now then, let’s meet again some time soon.”

MC 11

Ibara: “Everyone! Thank you for the magnificent encore!”

Nagisa: “…… The door to paradise opened right away.”

Hiyori: “No. It didn’t open on its own, we had to open it. With the power of everyone’s love♪

That’s why we also have to respond with love. Let’s share the love with everyone here.”

Jun: “The last song is, of course, this song!— BRAND NEW STARS!!!”

MC 12

Jun: “That was BRAND NEW STARS!!! This is truly the end.

We did our best, though. When I think about how it’s over, I feel lonely after all, huh~”

Hiyori: “Everyone, thank you for singing with us! Thank you for your magnificent smiles!

Please come and see me again! I’ll be waiting♪”

Nagisa: “…… The door to paradise shall close again.

…… But I’m sure we’ll meet again. Without stopping, we’ll continue to grow.”

Ibara: “The latest information about Eden is always posted on the official SNS. Please take make use of it☆

Thank you for coming today! We’ll see you soon, salute~♪”