#I don’t even know how long ago this debate happened

[sillylizardguys]

While scrolling through the BSD tag, I’ve come across a lot of debate about whether Oda “Truly understood Dazai” or not. And it’s made me wanna share my view on the topic:

Does it really Matter?

He was Dazai’s friend, and that’s what I think is the most important part, because that’s what makes a difference. If he just an acquaintance, understanding wouldn’t matter, because it wouldn’t have affected Dazai in the same way. The entire reason it was impactful was because it was Oda. At the end of the day, Oda’s death made Dazai want to become better no matter what understanding he did or didn’t have. It’s a meaningless debate when the impact he had was clear.

Alright I’m gonna draw a comparison to The Black Lizard that is maybe not the best but makes sense in my head (I’m sorry I just can’t go one post without talking about these guys).

Tachihara is an undercover operative for a government force, and due to this, he probably can’t tell The Black Lizard any part of his story that might blow his cover, so they probably don’t fully understand him and his motives. But even so, Tachi cares for his teammates enough to save their lives, and later believe in what they say so much that he literally retcons a Reality bending book (ik there more to it ofc but I know I’ll start rambling). Hirotsu and Gin make him feel happy, despite not understanding everything about him as a person. They trust and care about each other which is what brings them together, not a feeling of understanding.

To wrap this up I wanna say this: even if you don’t fully understand why someone acts the way they do, if you care about them enough, you’ll want to see them thrive. Whether Oda understood Dazai isn’t the point, the point is that the entire Lupin Trio cared about each other in a way that hugely impacted all of their lives when one of them departed. Understanding doesn’t hold a candle to caring and being there for them.

[peaktora]

𝐂 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘 ˚◞♡ ⃗ satoru gojo

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ your husband is unbearably clingy.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊0.9k words. no pronouns used or specified gender for the reader. intended lowercase. established relationship (#married).

a/n. — i’m warning u guys right now that this is not proofread 😭 .. i literally just typed this up rq and posted it bc it’s been too long since i’ve last posted something on here

p.s. the prompt was in my notes from a longgg time ago, but i believe it’s from @/creativepromptsforwriting .. if not please lmk !!

"c'mere, hold my hand," satoru pleads for what has to be the third time. he pouts at you, who’s sitting on the countertop.

your brows furrow as you look up from your phone, "but, you're washing the dishes?”

he twists the faucet handle, and a steady stream of water flows down. after a brief glance at you, he places the plate beneath the water and says, "i know how to multitask, baby."

clinginess is defined as “the tendency to stay near someone for emotional support, protection, ect.” but there has to be another term for what satoru is, because you can't give any of those things while holding his hand right now.

you let out a deep breath and turn off your phone, watching as the screen fades to black. "satoru, there's no way i'm sticking my hand in that dirty dishwater," you say, sliding your phone into your pocket.

he practically shoves the plate into the drying rack. "i can't believe this," he huffs. "we literally had vows."

“what are y—“

“we had vows that said you’d love me in sickness and in health.”

"well…are you sick?" you ask, crossing your arms across your chest.

he pauses his task of washing dishes, leaving them untouched. leaning over the sink, he rests his arms against its edge. he steals a furtive glance at you, only to find your gaze locked onto him. with a hint of hesitation, he softly mumbles, "no..." before you can respond, he interrupts, "but i’m in health, and the vows said that you have to love and cherish me in this state too."

you lean back, searching your mind for what the alternative of holding his hand would be. because in no world would you hold his hand in dishwasher. then, it hits you. "for now, would a hug make you feel better?"

he answers your question with a hum, and you can't believe he's debating whether or not to accept your offer after all that drama over holding hands in dishwater. even so, he adds, "i'll have to give it some thought."

two can play that game.

“it’s okay,” you say, gracefully hopping down from the counter. a smirk spreads across your face. “i could just go—sit on the couch?” slowly, you start to walk in his direction and make your way over to the living room.

he doesn’t say anything, letting you do as you please. it’s not until you start to pass by him, that you get the reaction you wanted.

or atleast, somewhat similar to what you wanted.

"on second thought—" he exclaims, and the dishwater swirls around him as he turns around, his hands still wet and dripping.

you cringe as small puddles gather on the tiles. "hey—" but he interrupts you as he reaches out to grab your wrist. “ew—I—what the hell?”

you instinctively try to pull back, but he slips his wet hand in yours; sealing your fate.

“satoru—”

“what happened to nicknames?”

“satoru.”

"’m not sure who that is. i go by a lot of names, but not that one. lets go down the list, yeah?” he clears his throat. “i go by "babe, baby, swe—"

"you should consider adding "gojo" to that list."

"now, when have you ever called me gojo?”

"right now, in exactly ten seconds.” your husband gasps, hanging his mouth open. “satoru go—"

“woah woah woah—what’d i do to deserve this treatment?”

“you put your dirty dishwater hand in mine.” you jerk your hand back, struggling to escape free of his grip.

his grip tightens on your hand, “if you’re feeling like not loving me today then just say that.”

“hey—don’t discredit me. i offered you a hug and you said you had to “think” about it.”

“cause holding your hand ‘s better.”

you sigh, “after you’re done with the dishes, you can hold my hand as long as you want.“

he lets out a soft, thoughtful hum—the same hum that got you both into this situation in the first place. at the same time you shake your head, a mischievous twinkle appears in his eyes, and a smile twists onto the edges of his lips. "deal" he says, shaking your hand. “but before-“

you tsk, making him drop his excuse.

“wh—“

"the quicker these dishes get done, the quicker you’ll be able to hold my hand. so get on with it—go," you playfully command, and his grip loosens in response. seizing the opportunity, you slide your hand out of his grasp. you look down at it, seeing bits of food that’ve stuck to your palm. gross.

you walk over to the sink, feeling the cool water flow over your hand, washing away the food and dirt that clung to your skin. as you stand there, you hear satoru's voice grumbling from behind, "i hate doing dishes,” and you can’t help but snort.

before you know it, you feel his presence close behind you, his body pressing against yours. his arms encircle you, creating a cozy pocket of space between the counter and his body. satoru leans over your shoulder, gets a sponge from the soapy water, and starts washing a bowl. you simply lean back and look at his features.

the sight almost makes you want to stay in his arms forever. that is, until you realize the predicament you're in.

“you did not,” you whine. you desperately try to break free from the cage he’s trapped you in, but your attempts prove more and more pointless.

"oh, yes, i did," he declares with a smile. “what did you say earlier?" he clears his throat before proceeding. "the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you'll be able to hold my hand," he says, mockingly imitating your tone. "so, the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you can leave and do anything you want."

you sulk and moan while you reluctantly grab a dish and a spare sponge from the sink. “i hate you.”

“i love you more.”

[wild-jackalope]

summary :: the times things went wrong during sex! Featuring my favs; Gojo, Choso, Yuji, Megumi and Toge.

warning :: sex, awkward sex (it happens), safe sex!

note :: all characters are of age!

Satoru (the sound)

The two of you had been going for some time, your third round of the night. Satoru had done a particularly good job in making you utterly wet, which was now the cause of your chest threatening to burst with laughter.

Whenever Satoru buried himself deep in you, it caused an odd kind of squelching noise. You placed your hand over your mouth, giggling against it.

Satoru had come to a gradual halt, noticing your puffs weren’t the moaning kind. “You’re laughing?” He asked in a tone that conveyed he was judging your juvenile sense of humour.

“I’m sorry, it’s just funny! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the mood. Please continue.” It’d only taken a moment of silence before you laughed again, now joined by Satoru.

“Jeez, you’re stupid.”

Choso (too long)

It had been around 20 minutes, Choso was still panting against your neck with his dick buried deep inside you, rutting against your insides.

You’d already reached your climax 10 minutes ago, so now his dick felt like it was giving you an inside gut punch.

“Choso, you close?” You huffed, clawing at his back.

“Almost there, my love.”

You whined, staring up at the ceiling and debating how much longer you could keep up. You’d already tried clenching around him, but hadn’t seemed to help and making out only made him slow down to appreciate your kisses.

You tapped on his shoulder, sighing gratefully when he slowed to a stop.

“Can we take a break? I’m feeling a little raw.”

His eyes seemed to widen with the realisation and he slipped out of you. “I’m so sorry for not noticing.”

“No no, it’s fine baby just give me a little bit and I’ll be okay.”

Yuji (no protection)

You’d been making out for at least an hour, with Yuji’s body pushing you into his mattress and his hands cupping your rounded curves.

He’d barely even broken from your lips to pull out his desk drawer and feel around for a condom. However his hand failed to brush against any wrappers.

“Fuck, I forgot to buy my condoms.”

“Are you serious?”

The two of you were well horny by now, each reeling from the effects of arousal.

Yuji eyed you carefully, face flushed and expression needy. You leaned back into the bed defensively.

“We’re not doing it raw.” You stated. He exhaled sharply.

“I know, I know. Damn.”

Megumi (came quickly)

You straddled him, sliding carefully onto his cock before relaxing at his base. This was a position neither of you had tried before, both your excitement was palpable from the way his dick twitched and how your pussy gushed.

He breathed sharply, fingers digging into your thighs holding you still. He needed to pace himself, otherwise this would be over too soon.

Playfully, you clenched your walls around him.

“Shit.”

His hips bucked into you, humping out his orgasm. You felt warm cum pool into the condom, causing you to shiver. “Already?” You asked.

He only responded by palming his face, covering his embarrassment from you.

“You must really like me topping you.” You grinned, kissing the hand that covered his face.

“Shut up.”

Toge (poor communication)

“You want…”

“Bonito flakes.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, face red and utterly flustered. “Crap. This is really hard. I can’t tell what you want me to do.”

He wanted you to relax and not overthink things.

“I don’t know where I can touch you. Do you even want me to touch you? Do you even want to have sex?” You asked, fretting that you had gotten the wrong idea.

Toge rolled his eyes. One would think him making out with you until your lips were red raw and touching every sensitive part of your body was a good indicator that yes, he did want to have sex. “Salmon.”

His answer only further worried you. So instead of attempting to talk, Toge took your hand and placed it on his crotch, letting you feel how hard he’d gotten.

You flushed.

“Right, I think I understand now..”

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Ｓｗｅｅｔｅｓｔ Ｐｉｅ ♡

♡ Pairing: sex worker!mingyu x chubby!fem!sex worker!reader

♡ Genre: smut/fluff

♡ Word Count: 3.2k-ish

♡ Summary: While spending the weekend at a mansion in the Hollywood Hills, a risky late night comment of yours draws the attention of your crush who happens to be in the same city and wants to see if you're all talk or about that action.

♡ Warnings: you're both spicy content creators, drinking, unprotected sex, Gyu's dick is kinda really huge, size kink for sure, stretching, riding, rough sex, doggystyle, clit play, ass slapping, oral sex (m receiving), cum eating/swallowing, dirty talk, switch Gyu/reader

♡ A/N: I usually put a sweet artistic statement in this space but I don't have a sweet artistic statement. I have a hot girl playlist and Mingyu's existence which is exactly how we ended up here. It's Mingyu, for the love of goddess, can you blame me?

This was never where you thought you’d end up. When you joked with your best friend, a successful OnlyFans girl, about starting one if your job kept working your nerves you hadn’t imagined actually doing it. Yet here you are, 8 months after that tipsy girl’s night, with a hefty following on social media and enough subscribers to never have to set foot in that job ever again. 

Like any other job it has its ups and downs but having your best friend there to help you navigate it early on makes it feel like lightwork now. Plus it’s so easy to ignore your haters when your bank account’s as stacked as it is.

For the first time in your life it’s optional to check pricetags, you can literally have whatever you want. Some things you don’t even have to pay for, they’re just dropped in your lap simply because you are who you are. 

That’s precisely how you scored yourself a weekend at this million dollar home in the Hollywood Hills. You’d passively mentioned during a custom video for one of your fans how hot you found it that he owned so much property.

“I’ve never played with my pussy in a mansion before” you pouted cutely, a vibrator whirling away inside you on its lowest setting. It wasn’t hint dropping as much as you wanted to stroke his ego but he took it as a chance to impress you, offering you a getaway at one of his places while he went on vacation for business. 

You’d be doing him a favor, he insisted, because he hated to leave the place empty for so long. The ego boost was more than enough compensation on his part that he didn’t feel like you owed him anything. Good because as a rule you do not fuck customers. You don’t even do content with other people in your industry. Everything’s solo. Always.

“Show us the top but off” you giggle, reading through the comments on your Instagram live. You do a quick spin, showing off your barely there bikini top. “There it is but it’s not coming off. You guys are gonna get me banned.” 

You only arrived a few hours ago and, exhausted from travel, decided that you’d rather spend the night in the jacuzzi out back than venture out to some crowded bar. This weekend is about relaxation after all and what’s more relaxing than sipping champagne in this warm bubbling water under the starry night sky?

It began to feel a little lonely though, you’re so used to having your best friend with you on these trips, so you decided to prop your phone up on the edge of the hottub and go live for a little bit. 

Reading through the comments, you get caught up in conversation about a million random topics. There’s suggestions for the best restaurants in LA, debates over if aliens are real or not, and even a quick KPop Smash or Pass game before someone brings you to a topic that has your heart thumping harder than an EDM festival.

Your rule on sleeping with other creators is a hard “No”, this everyone already knows, but when it comes to one man in particular that rule’s nonexistent. 

100_karat_xo Gyu saw your retweet 👀 youngxkwonskitty He’s coming over here aaaaaah!!!

You nearly choke on your next sip of champagne, watching the chat go wild as the memory of a recent drunken retweet hits you like a wrecking ball.

Your introduction to who Kim Mingyu was had been innocent enough. You were scrolling your feed one night and saw a video of a bunch of guys dancing. They were just fucking around really but they were genuinely talented and hot as hell so you had to do a little independent research to figure out who they were. 

Mingyu was the one who caught your eye the most with his beautifully tanned skin and a face so gorgeous it hurts to look at. It only worsened the situation when you stumbled upon his spicy account and found out he had the deadly combo of a body Greek gods would envy and a cock that’d have you walking funny for days. Who needs to walk straight anyway? You followed him on everything immediately, nearly died when he followed you back, and it’s been non stop flirting since. 

The two of you even ran into each other at a few parties where things would almost get hot and heavy but never ventured beyond a cute little makeout session. It’s painfully obvious both of you want something more though.

The most recent evidence came when Mingyu posted a video of himself seated in a chair facing a mirror wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants. No shirt, nothing under the pants, just that muscular sunkissed chest and a mouthwatering dick print. 

You were weak in the knees from the sight of that alone but when his hand started moving in his lap, his palm smoothing over the long, thick print, you went feral. Mingyu’s caption asked, “Who does this belong to?” and the shots of Soju in your system that night had you responding, “Me!” before you could think better of it. That was a week ago and you must’ve pushed it to the back of your mind because you haven’t thought about it since. But Mingyu has. 

“Coming over here? What do you mean?” you ask, slinking down into the water as if it’ll somehow make you invisible. You get your answer immediately when a familiar name appears in the chat. 

dongangu.daddy Hey beautiful

“Mingyu! Stop! What are you doing here?” you squeal, a hand thrown over your mouth to hide the uncontrollable smile his arrival brings to your face. As if there’s a way to conceal how giddy you are over this man. Two words from him and your whole aura changes. You were glowing before but now you’re radioactive.

jeonghanssimp95 my worlds collide omfg _horanghaeheaux_ Can you both marry me?

dongangu.daddy has requested to join

Your eyes widen at Mingyu’s request, not expecting to be put on the spot like this. It’s not that you don’t want to see him. You’d look at that face every day if you could—beside you, on top of you, under you—but you’re mortified of swooning over him in front of this many people. 

Finally deciding that your retweet did all it could do to expose you for being down bad for Mingyu, you dry your hands on a nearby towel and accept his request. Another screen pops up below yours. There’s some darkness at first, a few seconds of shuffling, and then Mingyu’s displayed in all of his bare chested glory. 

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” he teases, shifting to a more comfortable position in bed. Of course he had to be shirtless. Of course he had to be in bed. Fuck your sanity. 

Your brain has to shake off a five second delay before you can answer. “You just got on and already you’re picking on me. I’m about to revoke your privileges, sir.”

Mingyu laughs off your comment, confident that you’re bluffing. You are. “No, don’t do that. I’m sorry” he pouts, raking his fingers through his short dark hair, “I just expected you to be happier to see me.”

“I am happy to see you but you can’t come on my live talking your shit.”

“I thought you liked it when I talk my shit” he smiles, recalling all of the X rated texts you’ve exchanged over the past few months. 

You shrug, mindlessly twirling your hair, “Talking is cute buuut actions are better.” 

The true meaning of “action” is clear for you both. Mingyu’s wanted action with you from day one, spam liking your posts the moment he saw that you followed him. You had the prettiest face, the sweetest smile, and your body was so soft and plush he couldn’t stop fantasizing about getting his hands on you. You were even more irresistible in person and that knowledge has had him on a mission to make you his ever since. A mission he’s not willing to give up on easily.

“Action? I can do that. I heard you’re in LA” he says, the white sheet around him falling away as he sits up in bed, “I am too. If you aren’t busy, maybe we could see each other tonight.”

“Oh, y-you wanna see me? And do what?” you stutter, going in for another nervous sip only to find that the glass is empty. You were not prepared to be this thirsty for a drink or for him. 

Mingyu tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes flicking down to take in what he can of your figure peeking out from the water. His heart begins to race, his cock stiffening at the way your lush breasts bob above the surface, droplets of water decorating your cleavage like diamonds. 

“You tell me, babe. What do you wanna do?” 

His question soaks your bikini bottoms with a new type of moisture, your pulse already racing. What do you wanna do? With Kim Mingyu? What don’t you wanna do? 

“Gyu, aaah, fuck. It’s so…so…mmm” you whine, sinking lower onto Mingyu’s cock.

Your fingers trace his abs, your pink and blue ombre acrylics nicking his skin as your pussy relaxes to take the next inch of his cock. You’d seen it in pictures, even felt his bulge once or twice in person, but having him inside of you? Nothing could’ve prepared you for this stretch or for how full you’d feel after only a few inches. There’s still a couple more to go and you’re already shaking like you’re ready to cum. 

“Keep going, baby. You’re taking it so well” he praises, hands cradling your hips to help you take him at your own pace.

He isn’t in a rush to fuck you. That was never an intention of his. Mingyu’s more than pleased to lay here with you in bed, your fluffy thighs snug around his waist, and enjoy the view from below. And what a view it is. The faces you make are too cute for words. They make him want to hold you close and protect you from the rest of the world. At the same time, they’re the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. And, coupled with those little whines of yours, they give him the ravenous urge to fuck your brains out. Every last cell. 

“Don’t wanna wait anymore” you moan, leaning back with your arms behind you, palms resting on his legs. “I need it all.” 

He smooths his hands down your thighs and back up again, “Anything for you.” 

One thrust of his hips and you’re seeing stars. Mouth wide open. Eyes watering. It’s the fullest you’ve ever felt and you can only piece together a string of broken moans as your body adjusts to the new sensation. 

Mingyu smiles up at you, beaming with pride at what he’s done to you. “Too much for you?” he teases, his thumb stroking a solitary tear away from your cheek. 

You shake your head, never the kind of girl to reject a challenge. Breathing in deep, you steady yourself, raising your hips and slowly lowering them back down in a motion that has his eyes rolling to the back of his head. 

“Oh god, fuck” he groans not just at how perfectly your walls hug him and not just at you being wet enough to make that hottub outside look like the desert. Every move you make hits the perfect spot, your body titled at the exact angle required to make him feel like you’re stealing his soul straight from his body.

Keeping your pace, you lean forward and lick your way up his abs, sprinkling kisses across his chest. Mingyu can pretend that it doesn’t tickle in a way he likes much more than he thought he would but his body’s a dead giveaway. His muscles contract beneath your kisses, his length pulsing against your walls. You can almost hear his heart pounding through his chest. 

“Too much for you?” you taunt, smiling up at him, your walls purposefully clenching even tighter around his cock. 

Mingyu bites his lip, staring down at you like a meal he’s prepared to devour. The fire in his eyes makes your heart jump. Teasing him back has consequences and you can tell you’re about to suffer them. 

“Nah, I want more” he growls and two strong arms close around your body, one at your back and the other at your waist. Keeping you flush against his chest, he spreads his legs and buries himself even deeper into your needy core. If you thought you were seeing stars before, there's galaxies now. 

Mingyu holds you like he loves you, cradling you gently while he fucks you like he hates you, and with your arms pinned to your sides all you can do is take it. Waves of heat wash over your figure, the tingling of your nipples brushing his chest sending sparks through your system. There’s no talking back now, only fragments of his name rolling from your tongue. 

“M-min…” you whine, crumbling as the thick head of his cock bumps your sweet spot. You can feel his warm precum leaking into you, mixing with your arousal to make every movement all the smoother. 

“M-min” he coos, reaching a hand up to brush away the hair sticking to your pretty face, “Having a hard time talking back, sweetheart?”

Your eyes are hypnotizing on a regular day but he must admit that there’s something special about seeing them so dazed and glossed over all for him. He grabs the back of your neck with just the right amount of pressure, lifting you away from him enough that he shifts angles inside of you. It’s such a small change in position but it’s more than enough to have you squirming, mindlessly rocking your hips against his. 

“I didn’t know I had such a greedy girl on my hands” he says, tracing your jaw with feathery kisses. In a split second the room’s spinning on its head and you find yourself face down on the sheets with your arms held behind your back.

Mingyu slaps your ass and the sting gets you up on shaky knees. He doesn’t even need to tell you what he wants because you want it too. Teasing his cock at your entrance, he takes his time savoring the way that your juices drip all over him, your pussy already clenching in anticipation.

He runs the head along your slit, dipping it up to roll across that perky little clit of yours. He keeps you like this so long you’re drooling onto the pillow, clenching and dripping down his length and he isn’t even inside of you yet. 

Not one to be outdone, you drop your hips down, slipping him right up to your entrance. You sink back on him an inch or so, popping his head right inside of you. You hear a sharp inhale and feel his body give out on him for a second. You move your hips in a circular motion, teasing him with the sight of you stretching yourself open with his cock.

“I thought you said you wanted more” you giggle, shaking your ass in the cutest way. 

Mingyu slaps it again, gripping your hips, “So she can still speak. We gotta change that.”

He slams into you and you cry out at the force of his thrust. The aftershock has your body humming but there’s no time to soak it in. Mingyu doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up even a little bit. He’s feral for you. Already addicted to the feeling of you wrapped around him. 

Keeping your wrists pinned, he reaches around to massage your clit, and your knees almost give out. He catches you before you can collapse, keeping you right where he wants you. Gripping the pillow, you bite down hard, screaming as loud as you want into the soft cotton while he deep strokes you to the brink of insanity. 

It’s not long before a familiar feeling’s tugging at your stomach. You’re like a bottle of champagne, all shaken up and ready to pop. Mingyu rubs your bud faster, kissing the small of your back, “You gonna cum for me, baby? Hmm?”

Your body answers before your words can, jiggling in all the right places while you cum harder than you ever have. The clench and release of your walls as you gush down your own thighs drags him closer to his own high but he’s not ready yet. He has to keep thrusting into you, playing with your pussy until your body’s spent. 

For a moment it seems as if he’s achieved his goal. Reeling from your high, your whole body gives into the mattress and you’re stuck there, letting out the sweetest whines with his cock still inside of you. But that moment’s fleeting and in a few seconds you’re back up on your knees, whipping around to take his cock into your mouth. 

You don’t hesitate to take all of it into your mouth, not gagging once as you rub it against the back of your throat. If the gasps and moans coming from overhead are any indication, your tongue wrapped around his cock has him wrapped around your finger. You feel around blindly until you find his hands, intertwining your fingers with his. Your tongue traces the veins of his shaft, feeling the blood rush to the head throbbing at the back of your throat. 

The taste of your mixed arousal floods your senses as it drips from the corners of your perfectly pursed lips. You sneak a peek up at him. That gorgeous face. Those muscles dripping with sweat. His body jerks and you easily pick up on the signs, slipping him out of your mouth at the perfect time for him to cum all over your tongue and those plush, puffy lips. You take him into your hands, stroking him until you’ve gotten every last drop. Licking your lips clean, you kiss the tip and lay back in bed, bringing him down with you.

Mingyu cozies his head up to your belly, his chest heaving for air, “Where’d you learn to do it like that?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m just gifted” you sigh, brushing your fingers through his hair. 

“Well, whatever you did, just know it’s yours now” he says, propping his chin up to gaze at you. 

“Mine? What’s mine?”

“I asked who this belonged to.  You said it’s yours. Unless you don’t want it…”

“No! No! No!” you scramble, your cheeks warming up again, “It’s mine! It’s mine! I’ll take it.”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, using his last bit of energy to crawl on top of you, “You’ll take it again? So soon?”

He spreads your legs, dipping his fingers between your legs and you’re still dripping wet. He presses up against you and you giggle feeling how hard he still is.

“You did say it’s mine” you smile, legs wrapping around his waist, “So give it to me.”

[v-hope]

glad you’re missing TF bc me too, i wanna see them finally settling and knowing they’re ready for the next big step in their lives or even just discussing building a family after grad or when they’re at a good stage in their careers���🤧

pairing: jeon jeongguk x reader

genre: slight angst, flufffff, established relationship, non-idol au

warnings: pregnancy scare, mentions of condoms, mentions of unprotected sex

word count: 2.3k

a/n: um. hello after years lolll. i started going through very old requests in my ask box yesterday in case i found anything that’d bring some inspiration to my very uninspired self, and i found manyyyy tiger flower ones and this one in particular reminded me of a headcanon of mine that i never wrote nor mentioned (i think) but for some reason it was??? an actual Thing???? in my mind????? so yeah lol here i am. i don’t think anyone even cares about tiger flower (minus one person. u know who u are<3) anymore, BUT fuck it, i missed them and enjoyed writing this. i hope whoever reads it enjoys it too, bye<333

A pregnancy scare wasn’t something you were expecting only two months into moving in together after your graduation. It wasn’t something you were expecting at all.

At most, you and Jeongguk had agreed on getting a puppy as a new addition to your family of two. Said discussion happened when the two of you had only been together for a few months, a little over a year ago, where you both agreed on moving in together after you graduated college and then get a puppy right away.

Moving in together was not up for debate — you knew so the moment Jeongguk got a job in the last year of college and so did you, saving enough money to get a decent place and looking for apartments throughout the entire year, so you could secure a lease as soon as your previous ones ended. On the other hand, although you were still excited as hell to get a dog, once you were settled in your shared place, you were both too busy and overwhelmed trying to keep up with your new jobs and all the new changes in your lives to even think of adding another responsibility on top of them all, let alone one that had to do with a living creature.

If neither of you felt ready to get a puppy yet, how the hell were you supposed to raise a child?

Your heart beat so fast against your chest, you felt like you would pass out any moment, as you paced around the bathroom while you waited for the pregnancy test to tell you whether you’d bring another human being to the world in nine more months or not. Endless thoughts running through your mind as you did so, and you internally cursed at yourself for not having waited outside with Jeongguk instead — God knows you needed his arms around you to bring you comfort.

You definitely needed Jeongguk to hold you, you realised the second the alarm you set as soon as you took the test finally went off, managing to somehow turn it off with your shaky hands, and fighting not to drop your phone as you took a deep breath and closed your eyes for a moment before taking a look to the test on the sink.

Once you earned enough courage to finally open your eyes and focus them on it, you exhaled all the air you didn’t know you were holding up until then — instant relief washing through your body.

Negative.

You were given another chance not to raise a child when neither of you were ready.

And yet, a part of you couldn’t help but feel a little bit disappointed, empty even, now that said possibility was out of the way.

Although it was not the right time, a family with Jeongguk was something you’d always be happy about — and something you were only now realising you longed for way more than you thought you did.

Coming out of the bathroom and meeting a very distressed Jeongguk waiting right outside the door, you shook your head no right away, just like that letting him know you were on the clear this time around.

He let out a heavy, shaky sigh, rubbing his eyes with his palms as he processed the news, before he pulled you into his arms like you so badly needed him to — melting into his familiar touch and inhaling his scent as you felt yourself begin to calm down.

He said nothing, you said nothing. Your arms around one another and feeling each other’s comfort were all you needed right then.

Jeongguk didn’t let go until he felt your body stop trembling, only pulling away enough to rest his forehead on yours and cup your face in his warm hands.

“You okay?” He wondered; for a change, not being able to tell what the expression on your face meant right then.

He genuinely didn’t know whether you were relieved or not. And, therefore, he didn’t know how to react to the news. Yes, he had sighed in relief a minute ago, but that was as much as he’d let himself express until he knew how you felt about the whole situation.

You nodded, still a little bit stunned — not knowing whether you should say what was on your mind. Then again, it was Jeongguk the one in front of you, holding you. You knew you could tell him anything and he would understand, or at least try his best to do so.

“Is it wrong that I feel a little bit disappointed?” You finally mumbled, catching his attention. “I mean, I know we’re not ready, and we haven’t planned it at all and I would be so fucking terrified had it turned out positive, but, I just…”

“I get it,” he stepped up when he realised you wouldn’t talk anymore, gently reaching for your hands and holding them in his. “Of course I’m relieved we’re not having a baby right now, but… a part of me really wants to start a family with you now”.

“Now?” You playfully raised an eyebrow.

“Not now,” he panicked. “But, I mean, in the near future, but not that nea—ugh, you get it”.

You couldn’t hold back a giggle, biting your lip when he rested his head on your shoulder, embarrassedly hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“I know,” you reassured him, running your thumb on the back of his hand. “I can’t wait to start a family with you either. It’d be cute, wouldn’t it?”

He nodded — one hundred percent on board with it, yet pensively.

Up until that day, you hadn’t really discussed your future together. It was more of a given. Unspoken, but you both knew you wanted everything with each other. From moving in together, to getting married, to having kids, to growing old together.

Maybe it was finally time for you to actually bring those thoughts up.

“What do you think is a good age for us to start trying?” Jeongguk wondered, his voice gentle as ever.

You puckered your lips as you pondered your options. “I mean, we’re only twenty three this year… Maybe in another two or three more?”

“Yeah…” he quietly agreed. “We still need to get the hang of living together on our own…”

“Getting a puppy…” you added.

“Save some money” Jeongguk considered.

“Get a bigger place”.

“Get married”.

You smiled at his addition, feeling the by now very familiar butterflies fill your stomach. Reaching your hand up to cup his cheek, you sweetly ran your thumb over the corner of his mouth.

“You wanna marry me?”

“I am marrying you, Y/N” he confidently stated, only to feel his cheeks burn the next second when he caught the way your eyes lit up. “I mean, if you’ll take me, of course…”

You giggled once again, this time throwing your head slightly back as you rejoiced at the new bit of information your boyfriend had just provided you with. “I am marrying you so hard one day, Jeon Jeongguk”.

He beamed, giggling against your mouth as he searched for it and trapped your bottom lip in between his smiling ones.

You couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh of your own, wrapping your arms around his neck when he held you up by your thighs and took you to the sofa only a few steps away in your living room — not letting go of you for a second as he carefully lied on his back with you on top of him.

Lying your face comfortably on his chest, and running your fingertips up and down on it, you let out a contented sigh.

“So, kids sometime after we’re twenty six?” You returned to your previous conversation, before you got carried away by your desire to spend the rest of your lives together.

He hummed in response. “We should already have achieved all our previous goals by then, so I think it’s the most reasonable”.

“After twenty six it is then” you settled, smiling brightly when he reached for your hand and interlaced your fingers. “How many would you like?”

“Two or three would be nice,” Jeongguk confessed. “I’m okay with as many as you’re willing to have, though”.

“I always thought two… a girl and a boy” you admitted, feeling him smile against your head. “But I wouldn’t mind having three of them with you” a smile curved up your lips at the simple thought.

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “Two girls and a boy, or two boys and a girl…”

“What if it’s three girls?” You looked up at him.

“That’d be nice” he smiled.

“And if it’s three boys?”

“That’d be nice, too”.

“Mhm…” you squinted your eyes, suspiciously staring into his. “You want at least one girl so bad, Jeon Jeongguk”.

“I didn’t say that?” He defended himself.

“I can see it in your eyes” you playfully poked his forehead.

He rolled his eyes in amusement, tightening his hold on your hand to stop you from poking him again. “Well, sue me for wanting a mini version of you”.

Your heart melted, and you were pouting before you knew it. “I want a mini bun, too”.

“Too bad, we’re only having three girls now” he teased.

“Shut up,” you whined, slumping your face back down on his chest. “You just created a new need for me”.

Jeongguk’s chest trembled as a blissful laugh escaped his lips, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you so close to him you almost found it hard to breathe. You would never complain about it, though, let alone when his lips began to pepper kiss after kiss on the crown of your head.

“I love you,” he said. “And honestly I’ll be happy with whatever sex they are as long as they’re ours and we raise them together”.

His words brought tears to your eyes and a lump in your throat, being apparently still too sensitive over the whole situation not to feel like crying when he said the most reassuring words you needed to hear.

“You’re gonna make me cry” you let him know, looking up to meet his doe eyes once more. “But I’ll be the happiest as long as that’s the case, too”.

Jeongguk smiled timidly, gently pushing your chin slightly up for your lips to come in contact with his; pressing a soft kiss on them before his arms were once again tightening their hold around your waist.

“I’m sorry” he mumbled, nuzzling your hair.

“What for?” You questioned.

Jeongguk shrugged, fingers drawing small circles on your back. “For putting you through this…”

You chuckled, burying your face in his neck. “It takes two to make a child, bunny. Which we didn’t get to make, by the way”.

“I know,” he pouted, holding you somehow tighter against his body. “But last time I was too horny to go get a condom”.

You snorted. “Nothing we haven’t done before. We just tested our luck for the hundredth time and it backfired on us for once”.

Although you weren’t looking at him right then, you knew a pout had just formed on his bottom lip. You tenderly kissed his chest, in hopes of making the sad look on his pretty face go away.

When you felt him be distraught still, you decided to switch the mood a little bit.

“Still, I did have the scare of my life, so we’re going on a sex strike for a bit”.

His mouth fell open in disbelief, pulling you up by your shoulders so he could look you in the eye. “You’re not serious”.

“I am” you stated, trying your best not to allow your lips to break into a smile. “One month at least”.

“At least?!”

“Aren’t you the one who went twenty one whole years without having sex?” You raised a teasing eyebrow. “This should be nothing to you”.

“Petal…” he whined, hiding his face in your neck. “It’s not the same now”.

“Why not?”

“Because I got a taste of it with you two years ago and I can’t control myself around you now, you know it”.

“Sucks to be you” you shrugged. “One month starting today”.

Letting out a defeated cry that could only have you finally releasing the laugh you managed to hold for so long, he rested his head back against the couch.

“Can this month end already”.

“So you’re just accepting your fate?” You were the one in disbelief now. “You won’t even try to convince me otherwise?”

“No, it’s up to you” he said, closing his eyes as he threw an arm over them. “If you don’t want me to touch you then I’ll just keep my hands to myself and suffer in silence”.

You half cooed, half laughed, not having expected such a touching answer to your playful question. Then again, it was Jeongguk the one you were dating; you should know better by now.

Removing his arm from his face, you pressed a brief kiss on his nose. “I love you, bun” you ran your fingers through his hair. “As if I’d be able to go a whole month without jumping your bones”.

“Now don’t say it like that” he laughed, throwing one of his legs over your body and making you lie on your sides now.

Properly face to face now, you cupped his cheek and gently caressed it as you rested your forehead on his. “Give me two weeks tops to shake the fear off my body?”

He nodded, lovingly bumping his nose on yours. “As long as you need me to”.

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part 21

Pairing: Spider-Man!Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader Summary: Día de Los Muertos, year three. Word Count: 11.6k Warnings: possible second hand embarrassment at the beginning; a new character introduced; some Spanish, but translations are in-text; mention of deceased loved ones; fluff and more fluff; face painting due to the celebrations; I think that's all??? 🤭 A/N: Hiii, just want to remind everyone that three new chapters were posted in early October. I know some readers missed one or two because the algo sucks, so check this post out to access all three chapters just in case you missed one! Music Inspo: "Cuando Vuelva a Tu Lado" - Eydie Gormé, Los Panchos "Recuérdame (Arrullo)" - Gael Garcia Bernal, Lucy Hernández "Remember Me (Lullaby)" - Gael Garcia Bernal, Gabriella Flores, Libertad García Fonzi Masterlist

Part 21

You look around your apartment, making sure your place looks decent for the hundredth time. It smells good, you know that. Miguel told you so when he arrived earlier for breakfast with you. Unfortunately, he had to leave because you have a guest coming.

With a sigh, you return to your small kitchen to look at the coffee pot and freshly baked pastries you made for the occasion.

Despite spending the night in Nueva York at Miguel’s penthouse, you came back to your own place to bake because you’re expecting a person you never thought you’d be welcoming into your apartment ever again: Harry Osborn.

It’s been some time since you’ve seen him and ever since then, you decided to give him another chance. After debating for so long, you felt that it was right. At least, a part of you does. You have a feeling that neither Miguel nor the rest of the spider gang are happy with your decision because of Harry ditching you when you needed someone the most. You don’t blame them. If you were in their shoes, you’d probably dislike Harry, but well, you’re not in their shoes and you know Harry personally. There’s history with him, all the way to elementary school years. How can someone ignore that? Yet again, Harry did once, you suppose. You ultimately decided to do this for Peter, for his sake.

You figured he’d be open to giving Harry another chance, to maybe find out what happened, though that’s not a revelation you’re searching for right away. You’re sure with time, Harry will share the reason for his abrupt exit from your life. You’ve wondered already what the reason or reasons were, but none of your own explanations make sense. There was never a reason for him to do such a thing; to walk out of your life like you were no one to him.

There were no signs and that’s what made it hurtful, even if you were planning on cutting ties with him anyway when you thought you were doing everyone in your circle a favor by shutting them out. It came out of nowhere, just like your encounter with him that day at the flower stand, and now, you’re waiting for him to arrive to your home once more, so many years later.

You wipe the counter with a kitchen towel, feeling a bit anxious about this considering you’re practically strangers. Sighing heavily, you wish you were either going to be alone for the next hour or so, or back in Nueva York with Miguel at the penthouse.

You look at the spot where Miguel sat earlier during breakfast, the seat now empty. The two of you agreed that it was too soon for him and Harry to be introduced, at least in person and formally, so Miguel left about fifteen minutes ago.

That’s why you’re waiting for Harry alone, even though you wish you could’ve gone through the same multidimensional portal Miguel, who looked equally unenthusiastic about leaving you, opened. He didn’t say anything, but you could see and sense the hesitation. He didn’t want to leave you alone, but he had to.

Your cleaning ceases when you hear a knock at the door, realizing Harry is here. Breathing in and then out, you make your way to the door and look through the peephole to confirm. Seeing it’s Harry, you unlock and open the door with hesitation.

In front of you, Harry stares back at you, dressed in a business suit despite the fact that it’s Saturday, the second of November — Día de Los Muertos [Day of the Dead]. You notice he’s holding a bouquet of pretty flowers, but you don’t pay any more attention to it beyond that. Meeting your gaze, Harry offers a small smile, which you return.

Then, at the same time you offer your hand for a handshake, Harry steps in for a hug. He ends up running into your hand, freezing at the formal gesture before backing away in embarrassment.

“Sorry -” you start, lowering your hand.

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that,” Harry apologizes with an awkward smile. He steps back again and then, simply offers the flowers. “These are for you. I was driving by the same little flower stand we ran into the other day, and I thought some flowers would be great since your building is back and running. Well… has been for a bit, but since I just arrived to the states, you know…” Harry trails off.

“That’s thoughtful of you, thank you,” you answer, carefully taking the flowers. “Come in.” You gesture for him to enter, closing the door once he’s inside. You lead the way to the kitchen. “Please take a seat. I have some coffee and freshly baked pastries.”

Behind you, Harry thanks you as he settles on the kitchen counter, taking one of the two chairs — Peter’s, or at least the chair that used to be his. “It’s so great to see you again,” Harry starts as you find a vase to place the flowers in. “I… Thank you for — for calling me back. I know you needed some time to think about it, and I… I’m grateful to have heard back from you. To be here after all this time.”

“I’m glad to have you here,” you answer, giving Harry a smile before continuing to fix the flowers. “Thank you for the flowers, by the way. They’re lovely.”

“Of course, I’m glad you like them,” he answers.

“Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” Harry replies, prompting you to withdraw two mugs from a cupboard, even though you already had one coffee with Miguel. You carefully pour the fresh coffee and fix some pastries on a plate before placing everything on the counter.

“It smells great in here,” Harry comments, flashing you a grin when you place the mug in front of him. “It always smelled amazing here though, with your great baking.”

You hum and offer a smile, staring at the man you never thought you’d see in this apartment again. Seeing him sitting in front of you, with the rest of the apartment behind him is a strange sight. You can’t help but think that Harry looks out of place, even though there was a time in which he visited this place every weekend. He was once in photos that decorated your gallery wall, too. You swallow subtly. “Thanks. It’s the baking. It’ll make your home smell great for hours. And, the oven will warm up the place — so it’s perfect for the colder months, too.”

“Yeah, I can see that. It’s so cozy in here. It always was,” Harry says, looking around the kitchen for a few seconds, observing, or perhaps remembering the days he used to come over.

You’re about to respond with another weak answer when there’s a knock at the door. You both look equally surprise to hear it.

“Are you expecting someone else?” Harry asks, looking over his shoulder and at the door.

“No,” you answer, putting your mug down and walking around the counter towards the door. “Let me see who it is. Might just be a neighbor,” you add, reaching the door. You peek through the peephole, feeling your spider senses act up probably out of the nervousness and awkwardness from this get together. You step back, unlocking the door while looking at Harry. “It’s your… Chauffeur? Butler?”

“Felix?” you hear Harry ask as you open the door to face the older man.

“Hey,” you start softly. “Come in. Is something wrong?” you ask, wondering if there’s an issue.

Brown eyes thoroughly scan your face, as if memorizing it. You remember this is the first time the man has seen you up close, so you disregard his focus on your face.

“Felix?” Harry says, standing next to you now. “What’s wrong?”

“Forgive me, sir,” Felix says looking at Harry to address him before turning to you. “And ma’am. Nothing is wrong. I noticed Mr. Osborn left his wallet at his apartment and decided to bring it to him since he’s driving.”

“Oh, I could’ve sworn I did pick it up,” Harry says while Felix retrieves the wallet from his own suit. “I guess I was a little… Never mind. Thank you, Felix,” Harry continues, accepting the wallet and tucking it away. “Shouldn’t be driving around without a driver’s license, huh?” he asks, looking at you with a sheepish smile.

“Certainly not,” you answer, still standing there, feeling Mr. Felix’s eyes on you. “You don’t want a ticket.”

“Definitely not,” Harry responds. “Thank you, Felix. As always, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Happy to help, sir. I’m sorry for my sudden appearance. I hope you and Ms. Y/N don’t mind the interruption,” the man says, lowering his face slightly as a form of apology before straightening again. “I shall leave you two now and return to my duties.”

“We don’t mind,” you answer, giving him a nod of understanding. “It’s kind of you to have brought Harry his wallet.”

Felix turns to face you, eyes meeting yours. You silently decide he’s about fifty years old or so, based on his demeanor at least. He nods back. “Just doing my job, ma’am, which I take very seriously.”

“Too seriously, sometimes, Felix,” Harry says with a bit of a chuckle, clasping his hand over the man’s shoulder. “He’s a great man, Y/N. He’s been working with me for years and I don’t plan to let him go until he decides to retire, which he states he has no plans on doing, so, he’ll be my right hand indefinitely.”

Offering a smile, you extend your arm to formally greet him, a sight that makes Harry wince internally when he remembers the awkward moment you both had earlier when he arrived. You introduce yourself and shake the man’s hand when he accepts yours.

“Felix. Felix Kerr,” he introduces himself, giving you a firm handshake while holding your gaze. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma’am. I have heard nothing but wonderful things about you from Mr. Osborn and his father.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir. And that’s kind of you, and of Harry and Mr. Osborn,” you reply, withdrawing your hand and turning to Harry. “We’ve known each other since elementary.”

“A long time,” Harry says with a grin before he remembers that you’re not so acquainted with each other anymore. As if sensing his boss’s change, Mr. Kerr nods at him.

“I’ll be at the apartment, sir. Please notify me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Felix. I doubt I will, but I appreciate it. Careful on your way back,” Harry softly says.

“Will do, sir. Ma’am,” Mr. Kerr addresses you once more, nodding at you before turning on his heel and leaving.

“Sorry about that,” Harry says as you gently close the door.

“It’s no problem, no need to apologize,” you answer. “You needed your wallet. Please, take a seat. Again,” you say with a soft amused smile, trying to break down the awkwardness. “Before the coffee and pastries gets cold.”

You both reach your previous spots again now that his personal assistant, or whatever title Mr. Kerr has, is gone.

Harry picks up his mug and takes a sip, smiling at you. “It’s great. Thank you for it.”

“You’re welcome.” You smile slightly, twirling a spoon in your coffee. “So… How was your trip? Did everything go smoothly?” you ask, hoping to make conversation, which you succeed because for the next thirty minutes, Harry tells you all about his trip from the elegant and luxurious hotel he stayed at, the food he ate, a brief summary of the business dealings, and what he did on his free time. You try to ask questions to keep the conversation going, showing interest. You figure this is a good way to begin to know the man in front of you again.

“But enough about me. What have you been up to? How was your move-in?” Harry asks once he’s done telling you about the different historic locations he visited on his free time.

“It went well. Smoothly,” you state. “I had to clean, a lot, but it didn’t take me too long.”

“That’s good to hear,” Harry says nodding, turning on his seat to look at the living room. “You had… help, I hope?”

You look at the living room, not answering for a few a seconds. “Yeah, I did. Thankfully,” you answer simply, not providing any more information beyond that, like how it was Miguel who helped you clean.

Harry hums and stands up, walking closer to the living room, still looking around. “It looks so different,” he murmurs. “Despite the fact that it’s still the same place.”

“Yeah… It’s been some time since you were here,” you reply, opting to keep to yourself that only over a year ago you redecorated the place for the first time. You don’t want Harry to know that you kept the apartment the same for years after Peter’s death, from the furniture to the placement of objects.

“I know,” Harry replies with a sigh, moving to touch the couch. “You’ve changed the couch.”

“I did,” you say, remembering that the old one is still at Miguel’s place in storage. Staring at the new one, you realize maybe it’s time to fully depart with the old one. You haven’t even thought much about it. You suppose it’s true what some people say: out of sight, out of mind. Perhaps much like you’ve been for Harry and him for you. “It was time to replace it, unfortunately.”

Harry nods and turns around, his eyes landing on the gallery wall where photos that included him used to be displayed. Now, there are photos of your new friends. With interest, Harry gazes at them, walking closer.

You watch him carefully, knowing this will be the first time that Harry looks at the entire spider gang and Miguel.

“Are these — Are these your new friends?” Harry asks.

“Yes,” you simply answer, moving so you can look at the photos, too. Your eyes spot the various photos that you left up since you made sure to remove every single photo in which you or any of your friends are wearing their super suits to avoid revealing your super hero identity and raising suspicions.

Harry nods again, his eyes stopping on a photo specifically — the one of Miguel and you with Mayday from New Year’s Eve. “Hm… That little kid again. What was her name again?”

“Mayday.”

“Mayday, that’s right…” Harry trails off, still staring at the photo.

Based on his interest, there’s no doubt in your mind that Harry is wondering about the man next to you in the photo, the one with the little kid on his shoulder.

“Is that her dad?”

“No. That man isn't her dad. Her dad's name is — “ you pause when you almost say Peter's name, realizing it might be weird for Harry to hear that you befriended a Peter after your own. “Benjamin. He's a good friend of mine along with his wife.”

“Benjamin…” Harry hums at that. “Is this ‘Mig’?” Harry asks, reminding you of your first encounter with him at that flower stand after years of not seeing each other. You were grocery shopping with Mayday and after a bit of conversation, Harry invited you to a coffee shop for a drink. It was there that Harry asked about your living situation because he had learned about the fire to which Mayday eagerly replied with ‘Mig’ — unfortunately revealing that you were staying at someone’s place. Thankfully, Harry didn’t prod for answers then. You recall his answer to Mayday’s simple response was that as long as you were safe, that’s all that mattered.

Now, it seems that Harry wishes to know more, especially now that he’s seeing all these new faces on your gallery wall. It must be strange for him, you realize, to see that the people you both knew once — laughed, ate, shared jokes and memories with — are no longer part of this space, and instead, there’s all these new people that are now your family, but strangers to him.

You stare at the photograph, at Miguel specifically. There’s no point in denying, or withholding information when you’ve left all these photographs out. You didn’t want to hide them. Hiding them would mean hiding the people who’ve brought you so much happiness, who have become your family. It didn’t feel right to hide them, the small family who took you in when you were all alone and helped you be where you’re now, not even to protect the feelings of the stranger in your living room who you once knew so well.

“Yes, his name is Miguel,” you finally say, not providing a last name. “And he’s my best friend,” you add, with a firmness and pride that leaves no doubt in Harry’s mind that you mean those words with every fiber of your being.

He turns to face you, tearing his gaze away from the man, Miguel, who seems to be in a lot of pictures with you. He hasn’t failed to notice that, of course. He'd be blind to not notice that Miguel makes up a big portion of your gallery wall.

In fact, the number of photos this Miguel is in, is the same amount as Peter, your Peter.

“Your best friend,” Harry repeats, with that thought on his mind. This man is your best friend, and he along with Peter, make up the majority of your gallery wall. This man is part of the gallery wall just as much as Peter, your previous best friend and lover, is. That thought makes Harry grow still before his eyes flicker to your left hand for a second, as if searching for something. His gaze returns to your face when he finds nothing special, yet the idea doesn’t abandon his head entirely. “I’m glad you have people to rely on,” he continues some seconds later, giving you a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, though you don’t notice that. “They seem like good people.”

“They are. They’ve been an amazing support system over the last few years,” you answer, turning to the gallery to scan your friends’ faces. A smile, one so warm and gentle, so tender, forms on your face.

“You truly seem happy,” Harry comments, taking notice of the smile. “I’m happy for you.” After a pause, Harry turns to the photos again. “So… This is who you were staying with… This Miguel?”

“Yes,” you simply reply. “With Miguel.”

Nodding once more, Harry turns to face the photos again. His eyes scan every photo with the man. There’s the one with you and him and Mayday on New Year’s Eve. There’s the two of you putting together some kind of furniture piece, which Harry quickly realizes is the new bookshelf in your living room.

The realization leads Harry to register the truth — this man is important to you and ingrained in your life, so much he's helped you build furniture for your apartment’s new look, which seems like a too personal task. A task that only close friends, or a boyfriend, would do. At least, in his mind it seems that way.

Harry continues to look at the photos before his phone begins to ring, startling the two of you. He apologizes for the interruption before taking the call.

Remaining in the same spot, you listen silently. It seems to be about work.

“I’ll be there soon,” you hear him say quietly. “See you in a bit. Bye.”

Hearing him end the call, you turn to face him. “Everything okay?”

“Yes… Yes, everything is okay. I just — I must go. Something came up at work,” Harry says, his tone apologetic. “I’m needed, so I must go now. Being the boss's son sometimes means work on Saturday. I’m sorry for how abruptly I’m departing.”

“That’s alright. I understand. Work is work,” you answer, genuinely. “Do you want some of the pastries to go?”

“I — Do you mind?” he asks, slipping his phone into his jacket’s pocket.

“Not at all,” you say, quickly entering your small kitchen to pack some of the pastries for him. In seconds, you gather a few pieces and wrap them up for him to take. “Here you go.” You hand him the package. “I hope you enjoy them. Maybe you can give one to your dad. Tell him I said hi, by the way.”

Harry takes the package and nods. “Thank you so much. I will. I told him I was coming here, so he knows. He was happy about it,” he says, giving you a smile before you both move to the door. Harry’s strides are long and quick, so much his handkerchief falls to the ground without his knowledge.

You stop and pick up the dark green piece of fabric. “Harry, you dropped your handkerchief.”

“Oh, I didn’t even realize,” Harry says, turning around to take it from your extended hand. He easily slips it back in place. “Thank you. For that, and for the coffee and pastries. And for having me here, in your home.” He looks down at the package with pastries, trying to formulate the words before speaking. Once he gathers his thoughts, he looks up at you again. “Thank you for the chance you’ve given me — You have no idea how much it means to me, Y/N. Thank you,” he gently states, stepping closer and looking at you.

“It was nice having you here,” you answer genuinely despite everything. “I hope you enjoyed the coffee and pastries, and of course… You’re welcomed here.”

Harry smiles slowly at you before he steps closer. “May I… May I hug you?”

You nod slowly, agreeing to it, and that’s all Harry needs. He carefully wraps his arms around you, placing his chin on your shoulder.

Not knowing what else to do, you hesitantly place your hands on his shoulders from beneath his arms, staring at the ceiling and feeling weird about hugging Harry after all this time.

You close your eyes slowly and think about all the times you’ve hugged your friends, the spider gang, before you think of someone else. Unbeknownst to Harry, you think about hugging that someone else: the man in your photos Harry kept staring at, Miguel.

You frown slightly. You got a hug from Harry Osborn, someone who hasn’t been in your life for years, before you got a hug from Miguel, your best friend.

At last, to your relief, Harry pulls back and so do you. You offer him a smile. “Go. Work calls.”

Reaching the door again and opening it, Harry gives you another smile. “Yeah, I must get going. Thank you again for everything. Be careful alright?” he says, already halfway out, his gaze sweeping over the place once more, thinking about the new look of your apartment and the fact that Miguel helped you — that that man has been here in your home and helped you redecorate it.

“Will do,” you reply as he begins to close the door. “You, too.”

“I will,” Harry says, waving goodbye and beginning to close the door, but stopping at the last second. You stare at each other for a few seconds. “I’ll see you soon, Y/N?”

You nod your head, confirming. “Yes, soon.”

“I’m relieved, thank you. Take care.”

“You, too,” you answer, waving goodbye.

With that, Harry finally closes the door. After a few seconds, you lock it and sigh, leaning on it. That was a bit awkward.

You finally push yourself off the door and clean up the kitchen before you hang the other photographs back on the wall. Over half an hour later, you change into your suit and slip out of your apartment for a quick patrol of your city, trying to clear your mind after meeting with Harry.

You swing around the city for almost an hour, stopping a bank robbery and a petty criminal from stealing someone’s purse in that time span. You eventually travel to Nueva York, where Miguel waits for you at the penthouse.

“Hiiii,” you say, offering a smile to Miguel as soon as you step out into the living room. You find him carefully laying out some of the decorations for his ofrenda [Day of the Dead altar] on the coffee table, preparing.

Hearing your voice first before he sees you, Miguel smiles and turns to face you. “Hey, how did it go?”

You sigh and sit down on the couch. “It went.”

Chuckling, Miguel sits down across from you as well, deciding to take a break to give you his full attention. “Was it that bad?”

“When he first arrived, he was going for a hug and I offered him a handshake,” you confess, feeling a rush of embarrassment at that. You press your hands to your forehead and sigh. “So embarrassing. And awkward.”

Miguel offers you a small smile of understanding, though his interest perks up when he hears Osborn went straight for a hug. He clears his throat. “That sounds uncomfortable. How did you handle it?” he asks, curious to know if you eventually hugged Osborn.

“We apologized to each other, and then, he gave me some flowers he brought,” you state, leaning back on the couch.

Flowers? Miguel watches you lean back, noticing the little get together got to you a bit. He hums, thinking about the interaction.

“We talked for a bit about his business trip over coffee and pastries. He eventually looked around the living room and saw my gallery wall. He asked about you,” you continue to share.

“He did?” Miguel asks, intrigued by that.

“Yes. He remembered that Mayday mentioned a ‘Mig’ that day we ran into him at the flower stand. He looked at one of the photos of you and I with Mayday, one from New Year’s Eve. He asked if you were ‘Mig’ and I confirmed it. I told him your name — just your first one — and that you’re my best friend.”

Hearing you say that, and the way you say it so proudly, brings a gentle blush to Miguel’s cheeks. He smiles fondly at you, elated with the fact that you told Osborn about him. Miguel silently wonders what Osborn thought about him and the rest of your friends, however.

“After that, he said he was glad that I have a support system,” you continue, telling him about the remainder of the get together, including the hug at the end.

The revelation that Osborn got a hug from you after all, leaves a slight pout on Miguel’s lips and a strange feeling he doesn’t have enough time to identify. All Miguel knows is that Osborn seems to have received what he wanted from the start.

“It was a bit awkward, but I suppose it will be like that for a bit, considering we’re basically strangers at this point. It’ll take some time before that feeling goes away. Anyway, I’m glad we had that little get together, no matter how uneasy it felt, and even gladder that I’m here again. I’m so excited to cook and bake, and help you set up your ofrenda,” you eagerly say, standing up.

“I’m excited, too. I started on a few things already to ease the workload. I’ve set up the other pots and pans we’ll be using, the dry ingredients, and the supplies for the ofrenda. I figured it would help since gathering the things takes a bit of time, too. I also finished the filling for the tamales [Latin dish].”

“Gathering everything is a process of its own,” you agree. “Collecting everything, or as much as you can, beforehand, helps so much. You avoid the running back and forth when you’re actually doing the task, and prevents you from entirely skipping a step because you’re all over the place. It’ll make the process run much smoother being organized, especially since we’re doing a lot of cooking! Do you want to start now?” you ask with so much excitement it’s clear to Miguel you’ve been looking forward to this.

“If you want to, yes,” Miguel answers, standing up as well. “But first, I think you might want to change into more comfortable clothing since we’re doing a lot.”

You look down at yourself, remembering you’re wearing your suit. “You’re right. I’ll be right back!” you tell Miguel, already halfway to the stairs.

After changing into far more comfortable clothes — clothes you’ve left in your bedroom, at Miguel’s penthouse — and turning on his record player, Miguel and you begin to work on the food for the ofrenda.

Hominy for the pozole [Latin dish] is placed in a pot to boil along with the necessary vegetables needed for the sauce and flavor.

With that done, Miguel makes the masa [dough] for tamales, so you can begin making them.

As always, you work together with ease. You move around the kitchen in sync, making steady progress while Latin romantic ballads play in the background.

You also open the packages of candy and set them on a tray to later offer to each of Miguel's family members.

Little by little, progress is being made. You reach a point in the cooking that allows you to take a break and have lunch before you both set up the ofrenda, using tables and shelves to give it two levels.

White tablecloths are used as the base before gorgeous and vibrant banners made out of papel picado [pecked paper] with intricate designs cut into it are hanged at the edge of each level. Colorful and handmade sugar skulls are placed throughout both levels along with white candles to be lit later on.

To finish, both Miguel and you add marigold flowers to the ofrenda. They're fresh and so lively, their scent filling Miguel's living room, where he decided to set his ofrenda this year.

While placing a flower down, you find it hard to believe that you’re here now. Three years ago, Miguel showed up to your apartment out of nowhere. Smiling, you recall that evening.

You were doing chores, specifically putting items away where they belonged and laundry. All of a sudden, you sensed a portal and when you stepped out into the living room, there he was, Miguel. He looked around your apartment, probably noticing the autumn decorations before you asked him if everything was okay. You were surprised by his random appearance and even more so because he looked calm, so your guess was that nothing was amiss. Still, you had to ask just in case you needed to change into your suit.

“Are you busy right now?” Miguel asked after he assured you everything was fine.

“I was just doing some chores, so, no…” you replied, unsure of why Miguel was there so late. He was calm and said nothing was wrong, so that meant there was no threat to the multiverse. At least, that was your impression.

After nodding and sighing to himself, he told you his reasoning for being there. “I would like — to show you something,” he said, meeting your gaze.

In the span of minutes, if even that, you were in the lab and looking at Miguel’s ofrenda for his family.

That was what he wanted to show you, his offering and way of honoring and celebrating those who were once in his life, but now gone. By doing so, Miguel also wanted to assure you that your own way of honoring and celebrating Peter was okay — that you weren’t alone. It was a way of reciprocating the vulnerability you had allowed Miguel to see on Peter’s birthday. And since you had made him part of your celebration, Miguel wanted to do the same for you, something that brought you so much tenderness at the time and continues to do so to this day.

Now, three years later, you’re at his penthouse helping Miguel set up his ofrenda again, just like last year. The difference now is that you’re here instead of at the lab because Miguel decided to set it up at home since he spends more time here than he did in the past. You hum softly and place the last flower before turning to look at Miguel just as he adjusts Gabriel's photo.

You smile at the sight. Gabriel, Gabriel O’Hara. How you wish you could’ve met him and Gabby, the same way Miguel wishes you could’ve.

Heck, Miguel even wishes you could’ve met Conchata. Perhaps she would’ve liked you. Perhaps she would’ve done better as a mother and grandmother to Gabby if all three of them were still alive. Perhaps.

You look at each photo before meeting Miguel’s gaze, both your mouths curving upwards into a smile.

“I was thinking,” Miguel says, still smiling, but with a hint of shyness and hesitation. Perhaps it’s too much what he’s about to say, what he’s about to offer. He scratches his neck nervously, his cheeks red. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, or offensive. Or… find it weird, or to be too much,” he continues, rambling without realizing it. “I was wondering if you’d like to — like to add your loved ones’ photos, too?” Miguel manages to ask at last, staring at you sheepishly. He has been thinking about it for days, about asking you, but he kept going back and forth on the idea, and now it’s Día de Los Muertos and you’re both here. Maybe it’s a stupid idea, or too much since it’s about your deceased loved ones. Miguel almost begins to apologize for the bad idea, but then he notices the look of surprise and then tenderness on your face.

You slowly smile at him, a sweet smile. “You’re serious?”

“Yes… Yes, I am,” Miguel gently replies.

“But this is for family,” you state softly, wondering if Miguel has truly thought this through.

Miguel nods and that’s how you realize that he knows, that you’re making his point. It’s for family. He’s offering your loved ones a place on his ofrenda because you’re… Family.

You’re part of Miguel’s family.

“Oh…” you simply answer, a small knot forming in your throat before you push it down by swallowing. You smile. “Are you sure? I mean…” you look at the ofrenda, thinking. “It’s your ofrenda and I don’t have any food for them anyway, and I don’t want to crowd —”

“There’s plenty of space,” Miguel says gently. “As to the food, I can help you cook just like you’ve helped me. There’s plenty of time for it.” Noticing your smile, Miguel smiles, too. “Just say the word,” Miguel continues. “And we'll start immediately.”

That’s how, a bit later, the ofrenda is no longer only Miguel’s. It’s his and yours.

Instead of only four portraits, there’s seven. There’s one of both your parents, one of Aunt May and Uncle Ben, Peter, Conchata, Gabby, Gabriel, and Miguel’s wife. Like Miguel, you’ll be offering favorite foods and snacks later on when he does, too. Additionally, you went ahead and added belongings to your loved ones that were significant to them in life. For Peter, you’ve obviously offered his record player and favorite albums.

When you place the last one, a Billie Holiday album, you step back to look at everything. There’s even more sugar skulls, candles, and banners than before. And, the scent of marigolds? It has grown tenfold because more were acquired by Miguel, who went out on a quick trip to buy more.

You smile, feeling thankful for the kind and sweet gesture and privilege to share and partake in such a beautiful tradition with Miguel.

“There,” Miguel gently says with his own smile, staring at the ofrenda with everyone now. He hums and readjusts a flower in front of your parents’ photo before stepping back, standing next to you. “We can place the food in a bit,” Miguel offers before something catches his attention through the windows.

A few seconds later, you both walk to the windows to look closer. Vibrant holographic sugar skulls decorate the sky above Nueva York’s downtown, announcing that the celebrations have started.

At the sight, Miguel smiles softly. It’s been several years since he’s gone to any of those events. Too many years. He slowly turns to face you, noting the smile and intrigue in your eyes. He doesn’t even think about it twice before he makes another offer. “Do you want to go?” he asks. “There’s always live performances, amazing food, small businesses, and great music.”

“Really?” you ask softly, looking at him. “Do you want to go?”

With you? Anywhere. Miguel grins and nods, not sharing that thought. “I’m up for it, if you are.”

You chuckle with a spark in your eyes. “I’d love to!”

-♡-

When you reach Nueva York’s beautiful downtown, the sight of sugar skulls and marigolds greet your and Miguel’s eyes. Lively music reaches your ears and the wonderful, mouthwatering scent of food sold from food trucks reaches your noses.

As you both walk side by side, you notice children eagerly pointing to the holographic sugar skulls in the sky, trying to get their adults’ attention. Countless of people walk around with their faces painted in the traditional sugar skull makeup with intricate patterns. You also notice that many girls and women walk around with beautiful and bright hair accessories, many of which include big flowers.

Pulling your jacket closer to you due to the chilly weather, you smile in delight because of the spirit. There’s always an energy to Nueva York, but tonight, you can sense a different kind — one that seems to be almost pulsing. You silently wonder if that energy comes from those who have departed this physical world, but are visiting their loved ones still on Earth once more.

Your thoughts are interrupted when a lady from a small booth beckons Miguel and you with a bright smile. You glance at Miguel before looking back at the lady, quickly realizing the service she’s providing: painting people’s faces for the celebrations.

“Would you guys like to have your faces painted? I have a special price for couples!” the woman offers, still smiling.

You look away with a small smile. There it is again.

Only three weeks ago on Miguel’s birthday, back in your universe, Mr. Stanley assumed Miguel is your boyfriend. Now, there’s this lady also making the assumption. Thankfully, Miguel didn’t seem to mind. He said it was an innocent assumption, which calmed your worries about him being offended that day.

Next to you, Miguel scratches his neck after hearing the woman’s words. Once again, someone has assumed you’re dating. Despite how many times he’s been told that personally, Miguel still finds it surprising. Do the two of you give that impression? He wonders, considering that this lady has to be the fifth or sixth person to make that innocent assumption. He then wonders how many more people make that silent presumption just from seeing the two of you walking around. Before he has a chance to think further, like what does it mean that you’re being mistaken as a couple, you smile and walk to the booth to look at the different design options. And, of course, Miguel follows you.

“You can do matching, or different designs if you wish,” the lady offers. “I can do different eye colors, too. And, just letting you know, my friend in the next booth is selling hair pieces if you’d like to complete the look, señorita [miss].”

“That sounds lovely! Thank you for letting me know,” you answer politely before looking at the lady’s work again.

“Do you want to get it done?” Miguel asks after he thanks her, too.

“I…” you trail off and look at him, wondering if it’s okay.

“If you want to, you should. It’s fun,” Miguel gently says with a small smile. “We have time, too.”

“Alright!” you happily answer before the lady leads you to a chair and begins to ask you what design you’d like.

Meanwhile, Miguel watches from the side, intrigued by the process. He leans on a street lamp, slipping both his hands into his pockets as he quietly listens to you and the lady make small talk while she paints your face. Unbeknownst to him, Miguel looks like a devoted boyfriend and/or husband, waiting on his partner.

To Miguel’s surprise, it doesn’t take long for the lady to finish the makeup, but then again, he realizes that the lady must have a lot of experience and your face is probably one of hundreds she’s painted today alone.

You stand up and look at yourself through a handheld mirror that the lady offers you, admiring and thanking her for the wonderful service before you return the mirror. You then reach into your pocket for money — cash you’ve converted to this dimension’s — to pay the lady, but before you even get a chance to pull it out, Miguel has already handed the woman a bill.

“Miguel —” you start, but Miguel politely shakes his head at you just as the lady, who silently finds the interaction cute, takes the money.

“It’s on me. Keep the change, doña [short for señora/madam],” Miguel says.

“You’re paying for two people, mijo [term of endearment; my son],” the lady says. “Let me give you your change.”

“No, that’s alright, really,” Miguel insists.

“At least, let me paint your face, mijo. You’re not only paying for your girlfriend’s, but for one more person. You might as well.”

“I don’t…” Miguel starts, but trails off. He’s unsure of how to explain to the kind lady that he’s not open to someone touching his face plus feeling sheepish because she’s called you his ‘girlfriend’.

“Your girlfriend can do it, if you want,” the lady offers, picking up on Miguel’s reluctance.

Standing there, your cheeks feel hot. Not once, but twice has this lady said you’re Miguel’s girlfriend. Pushing past that, you glance at Miguel. “I can if you want, Migs,” you offer.

Miguel looks around for a few seconds before nodding. “If that’s okay… Alright.”

Once Miguel agrees, the lady quickly sets things for you on the other side of the table, so she can continue to work if other customers arrive. In a minute or two, you’re sitting in front of Miguel with a makeup brush in your hand. You begin by painting his entire face with white paint, just like yours. While you do so, Miguel stares at the tent’s ceiling, not failing to notice how close the two of you are sitting. You’re so close to each other that your knees are slightly pressed against each other’s.

After a few seconds, Miguel finally looks at you. His gaze travels over your face, taking the opportunity to look at the painted details now that you’re closer. His eyes stop at your own, noting that you chose a light purple color for eye shadow.

“You chose purple,” Miguel states as you paint one of his cheeks, almost done with the white paint.

“Mhm,” you simply answer, eyebrows furrowed. You look away to gather more paint before resuming. “I chose it because of Gabby, since she loved the color lilac.”

Miguel’s lips part in surprise. He hadn’t made that connection, but now that he knows, his chest flutters with ternura [tenderness]. You chose it for Gabby, his daughter. He smiles, even as you work the brush against his cheek again. “That’s so sweet of you,” Miguel says very softly so the lady doesn’t hear.

You smile back, your cheeks warm. “I just thought it would be… Nice. In her honor.”

“It’s more than nice. It’s sweet, Dulzura,” Miguel answers. “It’s a sweet gesture and I like to think that wherever Gabby is… Perhaps here… She’s appreciating it.”

“I’m sure she’s here,” you answer, reassuring Miguel. “With you.”

Smiling, Miguel nods. “With us.”

“With us…” you repeat softly, your chest filling with happiness at the fact that Miguel said ‘with us’.

Once done with the white paint, you switch to black paint and begin to draw the lines on Miguel’s face. You do the cheekbones and teeth first, finding it the easiest to do. Then, you do his nose by drawing an upside down heart at the tip, finding it cute. You draw circles around his eyes next, tracing Miguel’s orbital cavities, before filling them in and adding a decorative outline.

When you reach his forehead, you think about it. You had flowers drawn on yours, but you don’t want to do that for Miguel. You wish to do something different, something more fitting for him, but what? You hum softly before you begin to draw.

You carefully draw a sun in the middle of Miguel’s forehead, with little rays coming from it to indicate that it’s shining. When you’re done with that, you add a few more details above Miguel’s eyebrows. With a smile, you pull back when you’re fully done and grab the handheld mirror so Miguel can see the final result.

“You drew a sun,” Miguel murmurs with a smile when he sees it.

“Yep,” you say proudly. “Solecito [little sun].”

Miguel’s eyes move from the mirror to you, finding a grin on your face.

“What?” you say. “Some time ago, you jokingly said you were everyone’s solecito. ‘A ball of sunshine’, if I recall correctly.”

“It was sarcasm,” Miguel says, chuckling. “I’m not.”

You sigh and put away the makeup brushes. “For them, maybe.”

“Wh-what?” Miguel stutters, caught by surprise.

With a smile, you close the paints. “I’m saying you’re a ball of sunshine. To me.” You look up, closing the last paint. “Solecito.”

“Solecito,” Miguel repeats, his cheeks growing hot. “Little sun.”

“Mi solecito [my little sun],” you say this time, nodding with a warm smile, leaving Miguel speechless when you add the ‘mi’. Your little sun. You’re saying he’s your little sun. You stand up and grab the materials before walking to the lady to return them. “Here’s everything, ma’am. Thank you so much!”

Meanwhile, Miguel’s brain is having a moment. He’s never been given such a nickname by anyone. Ever. And now he’s your little sun — your ball of sunshine. Miguel’s cheeks grow hotter the longer he sits there, your sweet nickname echoing in his mind, leaving him flustered.

Your solecito.

“Are you ready for the live performances?” you ask, standing in front of him, so eager to go while Miguel’s brain is short circuiting.

“Si [yes],” Miguel replies, clearing his throat. “Yes. I’m ready.”

Miguel forces himself to stand up, trying to push past his pleasant surprise from your new nickname for him. You both thank the lady and wish her well with her business before walking away, happy with the service.

Walking again, Miguel continues to push past his feelings when he spots the small business the lady who painted your faces mentioned earlier. His gaze quickly sweeps over the beautiful hair accessories, which reminds him of the lady’s words, about how you can complete your look with something like that. He stops walking, something you quickly notice.

“Miguel?” you ask, wondering what’s up.

“There’s hair accessories,” Miguel states, staring at one of the tables with organized accessories. He flashes you a grin and gestures for you to follow him before he walks to the booth, leaving you wondering.

You slowly reach his side, finding him already talking with the owner.

“We have several options. Are you looking for a specific color?” the woman asks.

“Hmm, Dulzura,” Miguel turns to face you. “Do you want it to match your makeup?”

You smile, realizing. “I suppose it would be appropriate,” you answer.

“Something purple, please,” Miguel politely says before the lady shows the two of you all the options she has.

The lady shows you headbands, bows, and other cute dainty hair accessories — all with the color purple in different shades. You watch with careful attention as she shows you thing after thing, all so beautiful you’re undecided on which one to buy until you turn to Miguel, who lifts a headband from another table to inspect it. Gazing at it more closely, you realize the headband has handmade flowers out of lilac and white ribbons. It also has some hints of pink due to smaller decorations glued to the ribbons for a little dazzle.

“That one, please,” you say with a smile.

“This one?” Miguel asks with a smile, moving it forward so you can get a better look at it.

“That one,” you confirm, finding it beautiful.

“We’ll take this one, then,” Miguel says, looking at the price tag. Before you even have a chance to pull out your money, Miguel, once again, pulls out his wallet and pays.

“Miguel,” you say softly.

“What is it?” Miguel asks, already knowing by the little pout on your lips.

“You can’t keep paying for everything, you know.”

Miguel grins. “It’s my treat, so please let me,” he answers with amusement before he steps closer to you. To your immense surprise, Miguel steps even closer while holding the headband in both hands. He moves them closer to your head carefully and slowly, as if to avoid startling you. And then, to add to your growing surprise, Miguel gently slips the headband on your head.

You’re so caught off guard by Miguel’s brave gesture that you’re not sure if you misheard yourself gasping, but you’re aware of your widened eyes and parted lips.

Happy with the way the headband looks and how it adorns your hair, Miguel steps back with a soft smile. A gentle blush covers not only his cheeks, but also the top of his ears. For a few seconds, Miguel seems to avoid your wide gaze out of shyness. At last, he meets your eyes, still finding surprise on your face. “Does it feel okay?” Miguel asks, slowly and almost reluctantly taking another step back to give you space.

“Ye-yes,” you answer softly, speechless. You clear your throat and smile, trying to shake off the surprise, or at least not make it so obvious that you're shocked. “Yes. It's fine. Perfect, actually,” you continue with a smile.

“Good,” Miguel says with a small grin. “Now your look is complete, Dulzura.”

“Your change, sir,” the business owner says, dropping the money on his hand.

While Miguel thanks the lady, your eyes land on a beautiful bow. It's lilac with little white pearls lining the two tails. You gently pick it up, imagining that little girl with the toothy smile who loved science and fútbol so much wearing it.

In seconds, you imagine what it'd be like if she was here. You can picture Miguel carrying her on his shoulders, both their faces painted for the celebrations. If she was walking, you can imagine her holding his hand as they walk, tugging him to the small businesses to see everything. You even imagine her pulling him to this booth and picking this very bow because it matches her dress.

Smiling, you check the tag before pulling money out. “I'd like to buy this one, please,” you tell the lady once Miguel finishes talking with her.

Miguel turns to look at you, surprised. “You should've told me you liked that one, too. I can pay —” Miguel starts but you hand the money to the lady before he can finish.

“It’s for Gabby and I wish to pay for it,” you gently reply to Miguel.

“Would you like to get this packaged?” the lady offers.

“Please. That way it doesn't get damaged on the way home,” you answer.

“Of course. Are you guys going home to your child? A little girl, maybe?” the woman asks the two of you with a smile, making another innocent assumption that you both have a daughter.

“I…” you trail off before you start to shake your head.

“My daughter — she — she's no longer with us,” Miguel explains gently, though not explaining that Gabby is just his daughter.

The lady's face softens when she hears that. “Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss,” she replies full of sincerity. She closes the small box and hands it to you, your money on top. “It's on the house, for your little girl.”

Both Miguel and you decline politely at the same time, but the lady gently pushes the box into your hands.

“Please. As a gift,” she insists, still pushing the box into your hands.

You accept it hesitantly, only to not come off as rude. You pick up the money bill and offer it again. “Please-”

“No, no. Please take it. For your daughter,” the lady continues, stepping back. “I want you to. Accept it as a Día de Los Muertos gift. I hope your little one enjoys it.”

You sigh softly and lower your hand. “Thank you so much,” you reply, holding the box carefully.

“Gracias, doña. You didn’t have to, but thank you,” Miguel says after you, sincerely thanking the lady.

“Of course, jovenes [young people; youths]. Please take care and enjoy the celebrations. Have a great night,” the woman says, wishing you well before another customer approaches the booth.

Miguel and you walk away and continue on your way to watch some of the live performances, holding the box closer to you to make sure the bow doesn’t get damaged somehow.

“That was so nice of her,” you say softly as you both reach the center of the downtown, where there’s already a lot of people waiting.

“It was,” Miguel answers, agreeing. “It was a kind gesture. Hers and yours,” Miguel continues. “I appreciate you trying to buy it for Gabby. I’m certain she would’ve loved it.” Miguel smiles at that, knowing it’s true.

You grin. “I was thinking about her wearing it with a matching dress.”

Miguel’s smile softens, imagining his daughter eager to wear her bow with a matching dress. It brings a warmth to his chest. “Thank you, Dulzura. She would’ve definitely worn it like that. I… I imagine she would’ve wanted me to do her hair in a ponytail to wear it, too.”

You both grow quiet, thinking about that vision until the live performances begin. With interest and enthusiasm, Miguel and you watch lovely performances by amazing artists, including a mariachi band, who sing some of the most iconic songs to Mexico and talented ballet folk dancers donning beautiful and authentic attires among other great presentations that keep the spirit for the celebrations high.

Towards the end, Miguel and you eventually decide to go home, but not before you run into an elderly couple who you both overhear quietly talking about not having enough money to buy food from one of the food trucks.

“Tenemos comida en la casa, mi amor [we have food at home, my love],” the elderly man said. “Maybe in a few weeks we can buy the ingredients and make this meal ourselves. We can save for it.”

“You’re right, Balby. We should go home now,” his wife answered.

Hearing that, neither Miguel nor you could simply walk away. So, you bought the couple dinner and even gave them extra money for food. You’re not sure how much it was in total, but Miguel gave them plenty and you gave them what you converted a few days ago. Knowing they’ll be enjoying a great dinner, Miguel and you wish them a good night before you walk away, wanting to go home to complete the ofrenda and have dinner.

While you both walk away, side by side as always, the elderly couple watch you from their seats.

“So you were right, mi amor,” the man says with a grin.

“I always am, Balby,” the woman answers with satisfaction. “Those two have pure and courageous hearts. And they’re meant to be together.”

“I cannot deny it,” the man says. “Even I can see that. However will we pay them for their kindness tonight?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the woman says, watching the two figures fade into the crowd.

“How about a wager, mi amor?”

“No wagers tonight!” the woman replies before they both disappear, invisible to everyone else, to pass on the kindness Miguel and you gave to them.

[Characters from The Book of Life film; La Muerte and Xibalba (Balby)]

It takes less than half an hour before you reach the penthouse, and upon arrival, Miguel and you change into lounging clothes before heading to the kitchen to reheat the food. In the meantime, Miguel also makes pancakes with chocolate chips for Gabby, wanting those to be freshly made.

Once everything is ready, the food is offered.

Plates with tamales and pink conchas are placed. Bowls with delicious pozole, too. A fresh batch of chocolate chip pancakes is set in front of Gabby’s photograph. Apples and oranges are placed for Conchata and strawberries for Gabby. The various kinds of candy you placed on a tray earlier are distributed between Gabby and Gabriel, which include Paletas Payaso, Canel’s gum, and Pulparindos. And of course, Miguel didn’t forget his loved ones’ favorite drinks like the Jarritos and Chocomilk for Gabby.

Your parents, uncle Ben and Aunt May, and Peter had their favorite foods and drinks served, too.

To complete the ofrenda, Miguel places other offerings for his loved ones. He begins by putting a few things for his mom and his wife. When he’s done with their portions of the ofrenda, he moves to Gabriel’s part. Miguel smiles at his brother’s photo before he gently pulls out Gabriel’s green scarf from his pocket, placing it on the lower level in front of the photograph, offering it.

At last, there’s the youngest O’Hara, Gabby. Like previous years, Miguel places dolls for her, from a scientist to a soccer player and a few other toys. He offers a few new books because she loved to read, books he bought a few days ago with you at his side. From the bag in which he stored everything, he also pulls out a soccer ball. It was a must, of course. And finally, Miguel places her guitar, too, hoping that wherever Gabby is, she can enjoy her beloved guitar.

“I almost forgot,” you say softly, walking closer with the packaged bow. You offer it to Miguel, so he can place it, but Miguel shakes his head.

“You place it,” he replies. “I know you were going to buy it for her, so you should do it. It’s alright if you do so.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, not wanting to push boundaries.

“I’m sure, truly,” Miguel reassures you with a small smile, one you return.

With a nod, you open the box and pull the bow out, admiring it for a few seconds and thinking once more about a different timeline in which Gabriella was here, physically. You place it between the two dolls, silently hoping that Gabby likes it. You step back to look at the fully finished ofrenda. It took some time and love, but it’s completed at last and it’s so beautiful.

Both Miguel and you stand in silence, admiring it. The silence is a comfortable one, not out of grief despite the several photos in display of loved ones physically gone. It’s a silence of comfort and hope that those who have left too soon and unexpectedly come home, even if just for a few hours to share a meal with their living loved ones once more.

Miguel’s eyes trace every single photo in silence. He feels at peace, something he didn’t feel three years ago. There was too much pain, too much heartbreak. And, too much loneliness, even if he didn’t fully admit it to himself back then. Yet, three years later, Miguel stands in his penthouse — same one that felt so incredibly void and cold before, but now feels like home.

Home.

Miguel turns to face you. Things are different now. There’s less pain, less heartbreak. He’s learned better ways to manage his feelings, too, that’s for sure. Even better, there’s no more loneliness. With a soft sigh, Miguel finally breaks the silence. “Dinner?” he simply says, watching the way you turn to look at him with your face still painted, much like his.

“That sounds good. I’m actually starving,” you confess with a grin.

“It’s all that walking,” Miguel answers before he gestures for the two of you to return to the kitchen for food.

Due to the celebrations, Miguel and you go back to the living room with plates containing food to have dinner with your loved ones. You enjoy the food over conversation regarding the wonderful performances.

Not surprisingly, Lyla shows up halfway through dinner to play music for the two of you. She also takes the opportunity to sneakily take pictures for her secret, or not so secret, folder of digital content before disappearing again.

Eventually, Miguel and you take off the makeup before returning to the kitchen for what feels like the hundredth time to prepare café de olla and arroz con leche specifically for Gabby. When all is done, more than two mugs are set on one of the kitchen counters to pour coffee into them. Together, the two of you carry the mugs to the ofrenda, placing one mug for everyone except Gabby.

“Para ti no, mija,” Miguel tenderly states with a smile on his lips. He places the mug you gifted him for Father’s Day earlier this year, the one with the two bees, filled with arroz con leche and topped with a generous amount of cinnamon powder with the rest of her food. “Estás muy chiquita para tomar café todavía, but I made your favorite instead.” Taking a step back, Miguel’s eyes soften when he looks at his daughter’s photograph. If only she were here, Miguel thinks, before he settles down on the floor with you in front of the ofrenda. He picks up his mug with coffee and takes a drink, the music from earlier still playing thanks to Lyla who left it on. “Thank you,” Miguel suddenly says, turning to look at you. “For joining me tonight and participating in the tradition… For allowing your family to join mine.”

You hum and offer him a smile, holding your mug in both hands. “No, thank you… Solecito,” you reply, using that nickname again. “For allowing me to be part of it again and for inviting my family into your ofrenda. It means so much to me,” you continue. “So, thank you.”

“Siempre,” Miguel whispers, his heart skipping a beat when he hears the new sweet nickname you’ve given him. “Always… But, seriously… Thank you for being here with me again. For accepting my offer.” Miguel’s eyes meet yours, his gaze tender. He knows that his invitation for your family to join the family ofrenda might have been too much — too personal — even for best friends, but still, Miguel couldn’t help himself from making it. He turns to look at the ofrenda again, noting how big it turned out with your family being part of it. After a few seconds, Miguel turns to face you again. “Thank you.”

You smile sweetly and nod, knowing what Miguel means. Having your family join the ofrenda was certainly a personal gesture, a much more intimate one than previous ones simply because it’s about family, and it’s a gesture you appreciate so much. “Always,” you whisper back.

Much, much later, you lean back on the couch with heavy eyes. It’s late at night, about three in the morning now. Miguel and you have spent the last few hours just talking and drinking café de olla. You were feeling alert, but all of a sudden, you’re hit with a tranquility, one that seems to caress you into a sleep. You lean into it for a few seconds, closing your eyes and feeling a warmth surround — embrace — you.

Feeling the same, Miguel’s crimson eyes flutter, but he fights the sleep. Or, tries to, anyway. He glances at you, remembering your meeting with Osborn earlier today. He thinks about the hug you two shared, pondering for a bit before he finally speaks. “Dulzura?” he whispers, not sure if you’re asleep already.

“Hmm?” you sleepily respond, your eyes fluttering just to look at him.

Miguel’s lips quirk up at the sight. You look so cute when you’re sleepy. “I was just thinking about how you said your meeting with Harry was awkward at first because he went straight for the hug,” he says slowly.

“Mhm, it was,” you confirm.

“Did the hug feel awkward, too?” Miguel asks, seeing you’re more asleep than awake now.

You yawn softly, covering your mouth, and nod. “It was. It felt weird,” you respond too softly.

Miguel hums as a response, thinking. He feels something in his chest again, something he didn’t register earlier. Envy, perhaps? Envy that Harry Osborn who has only been in your life for a few months now, if even that, has embraced you before he has, even if it was awkward.

He sighs and rubs his eyes. He doesn’t know why he’s even feeling like that. It’s silly.

Right?

On top of that, Miguel also feels a bit of shame and disappointment in himself. “I’m sorry,” Miguel sleepily murmurs to you.

“What — For what?” you ask, Miguel’s words waking you up a bit.

“For… I still haven’t — You know. I haven’t embraced you yet,” Miguel replies quietly, disappointment and shame laced in his tone.

“Miguel,” you start gently. “You don’t have to apologize. Not for that, you know that. This isn’t a race. It’s a healing journey, and everyone needs their own pace to heal from their grief and trauma. You’re going at your pace and therefore, honoring your boundaries and yourself, which is so important. That’s all that matters to me.” You offer him a reassuring smile before continuing. “That’s not to say, I don’t wish to… One day have the opportunity to experience that — a hug from you, but everything at its due time, okay?” you murmur softly, as if there were other people in the room.

Miguel nods, reassured by your words and gentle reminder. “Thank you, Dulzura. I appreciate it…” he answers, feeling better. You’re always so understanding of him and his boundaries. After a few seconds, he continues. “One of these days,” Miguel tells you softly, sounding like a promise he fully intends on fulfilling.

“One of these days,” you repeat gently, looking forward to the day.

You both think about it — about the day in which Miguel will be open to that kind of physical touch. You think about what it’d feel like, to hold each other close. To learn what it's like to be in each other's arms.

When that day comes, Miguel knows he will hug you close and remember what it feels like to hug someone after so many years of going without a single embrace.

With that in mind, you both admire the ofrenda again. It somehow looks even more beautiful now in the dark living room with the candles’ dancing flames. It almost feels like they're waving at the two of you.

Still looking at the ofrenda, Miguel wonders if there’s a chance that both your relatives are here tonight. If they made it. He hopes they did and that they enjoyed the food and belongings that were offered to them.

As the minutes tick by, that wave of sleep rolls over you again and instead of fighting it, Miguel and you surrender to it this time. There’s a warmth that reaches and embraces you both. It’s so familiar neither of you can help yourselves from leaning into it like a child leans into their parents’ warmth for safety and comfort.

The last thing you both hear is static coming from the speakers from which music was just now playing. A soft, sad guitar begins to play, but you’re both asleep already — lulled by a warm, gentle, and familiar energy not visible to the human eye, but always around.

Remember me

Though I have to say goodbye

Recuérdame…

Previous ⋅ ♡ ─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ♡ ⋅ Next

A/N: Hiiiiiiii!! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter 🥺 Ever since last year, I wanted to write a short chapter for Día de Muertos, but alas, I didn't get the chance to, so I couldn't miss it this year!

Guys... I was giggling and kicking my feet when MIGUEL PUT THE HEADBAND ON OUR HEADS RAHHHHHHHHHHH AND THEN THE FACT HE FELT A BIT JEALOUS OVER HARRY HUGGING US??? (forgive me for screaming but !!!) and then the fact he's thinking more about it -- about hugging us!! 🥹

Also, don't mind the direct reference to The Book of Life. I was working on this chapter Thursday and listening to the official soundtrack for it because it's genuinely one of my fav movies ever, which I plan on watching tonight, and then the idea popped in my head to include La Muerte and Xibalba somehow and well... I did it. 😌

Also, what do we think about Harry? I was cringing while writing that part because they're so awkward!😭😭 But anyway, what do we think? 🤔 Side note, I was fighting the urge to make Felix a hot old man, I'm ngl 😔(I'm still imagining him to be hot, I'm sorry).

Ok, I think that's all and I must go now because my siblings are bothering me to help them with something. I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, show it some love! Take care everyone, and happy November! 💖

Alondra❤️

p.s. I haven't forgotten about chapter 20's comments and reblogs. I'm sorry for how long it's taken me to reply to them. I got behind because of the three chapters I dropped 3 weeks ago, but I promise I'll get to them this upcoming week!! Thank you so much for the amazing love and support as always!! I love you guys 💖💖🥹

Credits: Gif by @/halloween-pumpkin-queen. Purple dividers by @/thecutestgrotto and green divider by @/vysleix

Taglist:

@loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp

@rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze @yujyujj

@taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea @moonsua1 @darksidescorner @geminis93 @1800-get-alife @hrrtkreuz @oharasfilipinawife @dropyoursocksandgrabyourcrocss @may4ri @t4naiis @f1-hoff @llumetrii @nina-from-317

@kavimoo

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Gojo learning that his s/o's ex wants to get back together with her?

“Who’s that?” Satoru asked when he saw [Y/N] look at their phone and then put it back down.

“It’s nobody.”

Which was all Satoru needed to know who it actually was.

He and [Y/N] had been dating for a while now. It was still casual but getting more serious. They had known each other from years ago when they were still in school. [Y/N] going off into the ‘real world’ for a while like Nanami before inevitably coming back like they all did. Satoru had liked them since they were in school, so he was happy when they decided to come back and he could have another shot at them & their happiness together. Now that he wasn’t some faux jaded kid going on and on about how ‘feelings were for weaklings’. Now he was really jaded, and aware that feelings made you stronger, not weaker, in the grand scheme.

However, a few weeks ago [Y/N] started getting text messages from an old partner who seemed to also want another shot at happiness with them. They told Satoru what was going on, but no more than that. Now, they wouldn’t even make a comment on it. Just ignore it and move on. It was just a little hard to ignore when it was happening right in front of him.

“Do you want to get another cup before we head out?”

“Nah.” Satoru told them as he leaned back in his seat. His long legs sticking out. “If I have anymore I’ll start vibrating. Want me to get you another iced tea though?”

[Y/N] nodded with a smile and Satoru went to go get them a refill and pay the bill. When he came back, drink in hand, he saw [Y/N] was talking to someone on the street. They had just appeared next to their sidewalk table, it seemed, and [Y/N] did not seem happy with their presence. He slowed down to listen in on their conversation, debating on if he should step in.

“Are you following me?” [Y/N] asked.

“What? No. Just on Instagram.” They hiss through their teeth at the stranger’s answer, but they keep talking. “You haven’t returned my calls. I wanted to see you.”

“The not returning your calls should have been the hint.” [Y/N] told them. “I’m not interested in talking to you. Or getting back together, since that’s probably where this conversation is going.”

“You’re not even going to talk to me about it!” Their ex reached out and grabbed [Y/N]’s arm, and Satoru had to remember that the cup in his hand was very fragile.

[Y/N] batted their hand away with a glare and told them, “I don’t owe you anything. You certainly didn’t want to talk about it with me when you left me all of a sudden and wouldn’t return my calls.” They remind them. “Now, I’m here with someone. Someone I care about. So can you just leave and stop calling me. Even if I was single now, I would not be interested. This is the last time we’re going to have a conversation.”

The ex seemed fit to want to argue but sighed in defeat and left. Their shoulders looking like they might hit the ground if they sunk any lower. “Your tea, m’laday.” Satoru announced, after giving it a minute, as he returned to the table.

[Y/N] turned to him. Smiling, but not as bright as it usually was, and took their cup. “Thank you Satoru.”

“You know, I was thinking.” He helped [Y/N] up to their feet by offering them a hand, smiling down at them. “It’s a little too crowded out here for me today. Why don’t we go back to my apartment and watch a movie there, instead of the theater.”

“But…I thought you wanted see that new one…” [Y/N] seemed surprised but looked secretly hopeful. Clear that they didn’t want to be out in case their ex changed their mind and tried again, but not wanting to tell Satoru what just happened.

“Eh. I changed my mind.” Was all he said and was already walking them out of the café perimeter down the block to his place.

He wouldn’t tell them that he saw what had happened, but he also wasn’t going to risk it happening again either. Satoru showed remarkable restraint earlier. The cup in [Y/N]’s hand now was not actually the original one, and their ex was lucky that that was all that had been crushed that afternoon.

[confused-wanderer]

Incorrect batfam quotes as things I’ve heard as a college student that definitely fit them:

—

Dick: Stop copying me!

Jason: StOp CoPyInG mE!

Dick: Oh my god you’re so annoying

Jason: oh my god you’re so annoying

Dick: I love you

Jason:

Dick: Say it bro

Jason: *booking it to the door*

Dick : SAY IT BACK MOTHERFUCK-

—

Barbara: .. wait I’m lost now

Stephanie: Girl I’ve been lost a long time ago

—

*while the batboys are doing laundry*

Dick: .. hey Jason?

Jason: yeah?

Dick: I put money and my clothes in the washing machine but it won’t start. Could you try?

Jason *stares at it and gently pries the door open before slamming it shut with such force that it swings open again*

Dick: DONT BREAK IT I PAID FOR THIS MAN

Jason: Hold on lemme try some- *swings harder*

Tim: WHAT ARE YOU DOING IDIOT ??

Washer *beeps and starts washing*

—

Duke: ah.. such a peaceful day and gorgeous vie-

*hears screaming in the distance*

Duke: Aaand we’re walking-

—

Tim: I’m sorry but could you tell me how to spell your name? I’m trying to save your contact.

Damian: It doesn’t matter.

Tim: Of course it does! I just want to make sure I spell it right.

Damian: No, seriously. It doesn’t matter how you spell it. That’s not even my real name.

—

Jason and Damian having breakfast in silence at a restaurant

Damian: so I have a knife in my room.

—

Bruce: And there’s this girl in the bathroom who’s been crying there for hours! And I don’t even know who it is, I can just see her shoes

Selina : Wait let’s check it out

Bruce: .. isn’t that an invasion of her privacy?

Selina: you’re no fun… I wonder what’s going on

Bruce: well she was talking to her friend about *insert very oddly specific rant about every microscopic detail*

Selina:

Bruce: ? What?

Selina: ..and youre trashing me for tryna find out who it is.

Bruce: Hey I was debating if I should call out and ask her if she was okay

Selina: Mhmm. Nosy. Imma go check-

Bruce: I have to fill my bottle anyways so I guess I’ll join..

— later —

Harley: and then what happened?

Selina: This mf was waiting for me outside while I found out and then I shooed him away to fill his bottle. And then we both watched as he placed it under the tap only for it to immediately start overflowing

Harley *howling with laughter*

Bruce: IT WAS HALF- EMPTY

Selina: It was FULL

Bruce: ..you’re exaggerating

Selina: Girl be for real you’re just as nosy as I am, that’s why we get along so well~

———————————————————————-

[plutoccult]

HOW CAN I SNOOZE AND MISS THE MOMENT? YOU JUST TOO IMPORTANT

pairing: kei tsukishima x gender neutral reader

description: even after a long and frustrating day at work, you can’t help but fight to stay up with your favorite person on earth.

word count: 1.6k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: i wrote this because i hated my job at the time (i have since quit and found a job that pays me way more), and this idea spurred after a draining day at work. i debated on who to write it for, but ironically the #1 tsukishima anti (/j) @heavenfilm suggested i write it for tsukishima. i mean, since no. 1 party anthem was so successful, it makes sense for me to write for him once more. plus, the fandom is probably bumping again thanks to the new movie. i know this is short, but don’t most people want that? anyway, i hope you enjoy!

tags: @solefleurs @heavenfilm @mayariviolet @dragon-slayer5 @darthferbert @5sos-wdw @todorokiskitten @intheewrld @localgaytrainwreck @rasisarchive

taglist form here

the second you walked through the door and slammed it shut behind you, you wanted to fall to the floor and rot there. it was incredibly overdramatic, you were well aware of that, but you felt such theatrics were more than valid after the hellish day you had at work.

your job was easy for the most part. while you knew you wouldn’t spend the rest of your life working there, you at least wanted it to be somewhat tolerable. sometimes you dealt with annoying customers, treating you as if you were an idiot despite knowing the policies like the back of your hand. but today wasn’t one of those days where you put up with some snotty karen, funnily enough. the villain of your work day happened to be your manager.

when things are going their way, they’re the coolest person in the world. but whenever there was the most minuscule inconvenience, it turned into everyone’s problem, and you couldn’t stand it. it was like playing survival mode on the hardest level. many a time were you tempted to put your foot down and quit, but you were too afraid of being jobless for too long and leaving your boyfriend to pay all the bills. it didn’t help that applying for jobs was such a pain in the ass either.

after a long day at work, you scrunch your face in frustration then let out a long sigh, sliding your back against the door as you found comfort sitting on the carpet. too lazy to do anything else, even kick off your shoes, you sit there for a few moments with your eyes closed. it was the most relaxing moment you’ve had all day, but that title would soon be taken over once your boyfriend tsukishima emerged from your shared bedroom, having heard you come through the door just moments ago.

“y/n?” he pattered down the hall, finding you in your current position. “why are you on the floor?”

you open your eyes and see tsukishima’s face. it was hard to read him most times when you first met, but you had learned him inside and out, down to the way he let out a sigh once agreeing to something he didn’t really want to do. the sight of him just standing there, looking down at you with his head slightly tilted brought you utter joy. his face was the one thing you always looked forward to see after days like these.

“hi, my love.” you say. “it’s been a long day…”

“your manager again?” tsukishima asked. he knew you all too well.

“a pain as always.” you groan. it didn’t require any more detail than that for him to understand your struggle. days like these had been going on for a while, and it pained him to see you like this.

“well,” tsukishima offered his hand, you taking it immediately as he pulled you to your feet, bringing you close to him by wrapping an arm around your shoulder, all in such slick movements. “you should probably have some food then get to bed.”

you quickly shake your head in protest. you didn’t want to go to bed yet. you just got home. you wanted to spend time with him.

“go to bed? but i wanna stay up with you…” you pout.

while your puppy face was one of tsukishima’s weaknesses, he valued your wellbeing far too much than to be selfish and let you sacrifice time that could be spent resting.

“you need to rest.” he insisted.

“but—”

“you’ll fall over if you stand a second longer.” tsukishima interrupted you, gently running a hand through your hair, which almost lulled you to sleep on the spot despite your resistance. “i’ll bring you something to eat as long as you get to bed, okay?”

“okay…” you let out a sigh, looking down to the floor as you dragged your feet to your bedroom. you stop for a moment, your feet aching too much for you to bother taking another step.

“tsukki?” you turn around, tsukishima saying “hm?” as he anticipated your next words. “carry me?”

ah, of course. he couldn’t ever say no to that. “alright…”

tsukishima lifted you up with ease, a given considering he always stayed in tip-top shape throughout the years thanks to playing volleyball. as relaxing as it was to be in his arms, you fought like hell to stay awake, wanting to keep your eyes on that gorgeous face as long as humanly possible.

he placed you down on the bed, going as far as to take your shoes off your feet and set them aside. the constraint of your shoes were killing you all day, so you felt immediate relief upon their removal. you were thankful for tsukishima doing such things for you without you even having to ask. he truly understood you through and through, his love shown in his acts of service rather than words spoken.

“get comfy while i bring you a plate.” tsukishima placed a kiss on your cheek and ruffled your hair before leaving the room. you were tempted to get under those cozy blankets, but you knew it would only make you sleepy, and you couldn’t have that. you didn’t work all day just to fall asleep before you could spent more than just a moment with the one you love.

tsukishima found you yawning as you tried sitting up as straight as possible. he came in with a bowl of fettuccine alfredo, having made it earlier with you in mind, just freshly reheated for your enjoyment. but tsukishima couldn’t help but sigh at the display in front of him.

“didn’t i tell you to get comfy?” he rolled his eyes as he sat down on the bed next to you. “here. i’m sure you’re starving after a long day.”

“i’d start gnawing on your arm soon enough.” you joke and take the bowl from his hands. “but thank you.”

“i’d rather you didn’t.” tsukishima cringed at the thought. funnily enough, he thought that such a thing would affect his performance at games. he wasn’t the same as he was as a teenager, that’s for sure.

you’re too busy to even respond, inhaling your food like it was going out of style. sometimes you’re just too caught up at work to even think about taking a snack break. even if you did relax for once, someone was always bound to ask for your help because they either didn’t 1. have a clue on what to do or 2. feel like doing their job. you were truly stuck to a ball and chain because of these people.

once you finished the last bite, you didn’t have to say a thing as tsukishima took the bowl out of your hands, already thinking to wash the dishes for you later so you didn’t have to lift a finger. he placed the bowl down on the nightstand for a moment, grabbing the edge of your shared comforter, which you immediately took notice to.

“woah, woah, woah!” you exclaim and grab tsukishima’s wrist. “i’m not lying down!”

“you think just grabbing my wrist can stop me?” he snickered, harshly tugging the blanket like a magician pulling a tablecloth off the table while leaving the dishes unscathed. you plop over face first onto the bed as you try to scramble for the blanket, but fail miserably. tsukishima couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.

you roll onto your back and pout over his laughter. “what’s so funny?”

“i just don’t understand why you want to stay awake so bad. you’re clearly exhausted.” tsukishima said as he gently stroked your hair, almost trying to lull you to sleep. had he scratched a certain part of your head, you would’ve been a goner and he knew it.

“because i…” you sit up, continuing to resist your inevitable slumber. “i wanna spend more time just with you. you’re too important to me.”

“you’re important to me too.” he replied. “and if you weren’t, i wouldn’t care about your health.”

you can’t help but smile at his words. curse him for caring so much, you almost want to say, but how could you? it’s not like you’d rather he didn’t give a damn at all, you would never. but still, you can’t resist wanting to lay your eyes on him as long as you humanly could.

“ass.” you say, a giggle escaping your mouth with ease.

“butt.” tsukishima grinned, leaning in and planting a kiss on your lips. his kiss felt like a spell to you, and you’d be pulled in each and every time.

as you lay down now, the only source of light being the lamp on the bedside table, you find yourself starting to succumb to the sleep you fought so hard to resist. tsukishima took notice, pulling the blanket over your body and reaching his hands to scratch your head. you fell asleep within seconds, just as he predicted.

tsukishima couldn’t be mad seeing you in this state. sure, he missed you like hell all day, but watching you now, looking so peaceful, tsukishima knew this was one of his favorite sights in the world. if he could sit here and just stare at you like this all day, he would do it instantly.

“i love you, y/n.” he said, gently caressing your cheek, hoping he wouldn’t wake you up. “i know i should say it out loud more often, but i hope you know that i do. there aren’t enough words to describe the feeling, but i love you.“

even if you didn’t hear tsukishima, you could still feel his love just from him sitting beside you. you feel it when you look at his face down to when you yap your mouth off while he just listens. you would never feel this with anyone else, and you would forever try to savor it.

© plutoccult / 310802. please do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my content in or outside of tumblr. reblogs are appreciated <3

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 19

part 1, prev part

Dustin’s crying when Wayne walks into the room. Rushing to wipe away the tears when he realizes Wayne’s presence. His hand gripped in Eddie’s while he sleeps. Wayne almost feels like he’s intruding.

“I can go if you need a minute,” he says. Halfway stepping out the door.

Dustin shakes his head, hand releasing Eddie’s to wipe away the rest of the tears. “No, it’s fine.”

Wayne hesitates before sitting down. Debating whether or not the kid is lying for his benefit. But it’s better to let the kid decide for himself than Wayne to decide for him. So he sits in the same chair he always does. Waiting for Dustin to ready himself.

“He was a wake a few minutes ago, you missed it.”

“I’m sorry if he said anything,” Wayne says on instinct. Ready to apologize for the things that Eddie can’t control. “He’s so confused right now that he can’t tell here nor there. Don’t take anything too personally-.”

“He remembered me,” Dustin interrupts. Awe vibrating through his voice.

Wayne’s brain recalibrates. “What?”

Dustin turns toward Wayne. A hope that Wayne has never seen from him gracing his face. “My name. He said my name. He remembered me.”

A smile so unfamiliar at this point cracks on Wayne’s face. The muscles in his face having to remember how to form it. “He did?”

“Yeah.” Dustin smiles. A real bright smile that could light an entire room. “I was reading to him and finished the book. He opened his eyes and was listening, like he has been. And then he started talking, apologized for yesterday, and I think for what happened before. Then he said my name.”

“That’s,” Wayne’s struggling to find words. Anything to express what he’s feeling. “That’s really good, kid.”

There’s that bubbling sort of hope starting up again in Wayne’s chest. The feeling like there’s a chance his boy will wake up again and actually remember him. Say something other than cheap swears meant to hurt and nothing else. Finally, be able to heal. Maybe in a place outside of the blank hospital walls. In a place that feels like home.

If Wayne can find a place by then.

It’s not without a lack of trying, it’s with a lack of funds. His paychecks being tugged in different directions. Most of it going into savings to pay for what is about to be an astronomically high medical bill, the rest going to the money pit of his motel room. Leaving Wayne to use pennies to take care of himself.

Wayne doesn’t know how he’s going to pull himself out of this debt. Having a feeling that it’s going to haunt him for a long time. Hoping that it’s going to be a burden that only he has to have. Not one that he will have to pass down to the person he’s doing all of this for.

“You said you finished the book,” Wayne starts conversation. A dual effort to cheer the kid up and get himself out of this thought train. “You got me all invested and couldn’t even wait for me to finish it. Best you can do is tell me how it ends.”

There’s a certain light that brights people’s eyes when talking about the things they love. Makes the people that notice a bit happier when it does. Knowing that there’s something someone loves so much that it makes time a little brighter for a while. Instead of the suffocating darkness that it can be.

It’s the same light that clicks on when Dustin starts to relay the last few chapters of the book. Talking like someone who’s read it a million times, wanting to interject with their own thoughts of the events. Intertwining information learned in later books and materials when they aren’t necessary for the summary. Often pausing and going back on his words after getting ahead of himself.

Wayne sees so much of Eddie in this kid. It’s insane how two people couldn’t be more related when sharing no blood at all. How mannerisms imprint from simply spending time with each other. And how sharing the same interests can form a bond so special that he hopes it never breaks.

What he said to Steve was true, it was no problem looking out for this kid. It was no problem at all. Mainly because helping this kid was helping a part of him too.

It reminded him that there was at least one person out there that cared for Eddie enough to come and sit by him when Wayne couldn’t. That someone else believed in Eddie’s innocence from the beginning and took the time to try and help him. And, while he wouldn’t wish it on anyone, someone that shares his pain.

Dustin was one of the reasons that Wayne remains as hopeful as he is. It’s harder to lose hope completely when that means breaking it for someone else. Easier for it to remain when there’s a person smiling at every step forward, instead of getting weighed down by the steps back.

And somewhere along the small conversations to try and get their minds off the subject at hand, Wayne started getting invested. Started paying more attention to how Dustin’s doing in school, at home. Checking in a making sure he was taking care of himself, and not stretching himself too thin.

It was easy to start caring about him.

“Oh shit, I almost forgot.” Dustin pulls a take out container out of his lunchbox and hands it to Wayne. “It’s from my mom, she wanted to give it to you. Please don’t refuse it, she gives out food to literally everyone.”

Wayne takes the container, seeing some sort of pasta dish under the clear lid. “Tell her I said thank you.”

Dustin zips up his bag and stands, saying goodbye to Wayne before leaving. Just him and Eddie left in the room.

Despite what people may think about Eddie, about his friends, they’re good kids. All of them. They were some of the kindest people Wayne’s ever met.

next part

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[memymay]

~ Mychael ~ Mushroom Oasis Oneshot ~

Reader who’s legally blind / has really poor eyesight

fluff, comfort - NB reader - No TW’s

Reader Insert Masterlist ⭐️

(For those of you who don’t know, you can still have sight while being legally blind, for this MC is going to have glasses. I’m legally blind without my glasses, and I’ve had this idea in my head for a good long while, enjoy!)

“Mychael… is that yours…?” You asked, staring at the tail now tightly gripping your cup. Your eyes slowly gazed up to look at Mychael, head now hanging low in his hands. It hurt to seem him like this, he was so cheery just a few moments ago.

“I… I’m sorry (y/n)” he spoke softly, “I-“ he paused, debating his next words, “I should be honest…” he slowly tilted his head up, pulling his hair back to reveal his two sets of eyes.

You stared in shook, looking from one set to the other, and taking in his expression. His brows were knit, and a small frown adorned his face… he was scared. He looked away from you, avoiding your gaze and looking around the room. His dark eyes were downcast, and his eyes were teary.

“Please…” his voice was low, almost a whisper, “I know… I…” he stopped and took a deep breath to steady himself, before closing his eyes and speaking again, “I know its a lot… but… this is what i really look like. Who I really am…”

“I know what I look like, just please,” he finally turned his gaze back up to you, eyes pleading, “Please don’t be scared…” he begged.

Finally gathering your senses, you turn your gaze to flick between his eyes, tail, ears, and horns. You weren’t scared, as much as fascinated. He was like the fae your grandmother would warn you about, like the fairies, elves, and dragons in your story books.

However, this did not reach Mychael. His perception clouded by fear, he took your silence as a bad sign. he dropped his head on the table, quietly muttering out a sentence that was barely audible, being muffled by the table. “I can hide my face, if that’s what you want, just… I…” he let out a staggered breath, not knowing what else he could say. Slowly he peaked up through his hair to see your face.

You were smiling

A soft reassuring smile, one that slightly eased his growing anxiety.

“There’s nothing wrong with how you look.” You said plainly, meeting his eyes as he picked his head off the table. He was preparing for the worst, and hopping for the best. But even so, your reaction was the farthest from what he expected. Not even in the “good ending” he had hoped for.

“R-Really!?” He asked, face lifting from disparate to a slight hopeful look, “even though I look like this?”

You reached up to grab your glasses, taking them off and setting them on the table.

“There,” you said, smiling fondly, “now I can’t see you, problem solved.”

“That’s not-“

“Mychael.” You interrupted, “You have treated me better than most of the people I know would have. And im a stranger. Your kindness means more to me than what you look like.”

You reached out to put your glasses back on, and laid your hand on his, “I’ve spent most of my life with eyesight so bad, im considered legally blind. Only recently did I finally get the right prescription. I know there are mean people, and there are nice people” You gave his hand a small reassuring squeeze, “I’d much rather spend my time with someone as thoughtful, kind, caring, and sweet as you over most.”

Mychael stared at you in disbelief as a few small tears streamed down his face. He couldn’t have hopped this would happen, not even in his dreams, yet here he is.

“And besides,” you continued, “you’re pretty in your own way. Like the mystic, natural beauty of nature infused into a person. Unnatural yes, but ugly…?” you paused, staring deeply into his eyes,

“That’s the farthest thing from what you are.”

.

.

.

And that was it, he decided then and there, that you had to stay. Those words, he could feel the meaning behind them. He could see the warmth in your eyes, and the honesty in your voice.

You were perfect.

And hopefully, you’d forgive him for being selfish, just this once.

notes~

Damn…. I kinda got carried away 😅. Started to feel more like I was talking to my past self rather than writing a fanfic, but I hope that emotion just made it better 🥰

[moshpitgamma]

My Sunflower|| John Dory x Fiancé!Reader

Warnings:Angst+Fluff

(This is my first real fanfic so Plss don’t be TOO harsh)

YALL ITS LONG OK😭

——————————————————————

“John! I’m home!” Said the exhausted troll walking through the door of their shared apartment. “Huh? Damn it’s 9pm.” Y/n said checking the time. “Hun, You here?” They screamed again wondering why their fiancé wasn’t answering. When they didn’t get a response they started to get anxious, but convinced themselves he went to either the studio or to hang out with his brothers.

The clock finally hits 11:03pm and still there isn’t a sign of JD. “Why isn’t he answering his phone?” You said with worry laced in your voice. His brothers also didn’t answer their phones for god knows what. Now you’re in full panic mode pacing back and forth in the dining room blowing UP his phone with messages and calls. After your many failed attempts of contacting him you finally decided to call the only person you KNEW that was gonna pick up. So you called his grandma.

Once she answered you tried to hide your anxiousness and your panicked voice, but she caught on to it quickly. “Hi Mrs. Rosie, do you know where John is? I haven’t spoke to him since this morning before I went to work.” You asked frantically hoping that she would cure the pulsating adrenaline going through your body. When you finished your nauseating questions the silence you both held was fueling it like you were going to burst. When the never ending silence finally came to an end a sigh was heard. "Hun Bun….JD left hours ago after their embarrassing show fail." she told you with reassurance and empathy. She then continued to tell you how and what happened between the brothers. The last thing you ever heard from her was “Sweetie just give it time.” So you waited…

And waited….

And waited….

Until 20 years have passed and still no sign of John. You were invited to the royal wedding of King Grisel and Bridget and was currently trying to find a dress. While rampaging you closet like a mad woman you come across and unfamiliar bagged dress. When you took it out you stared at it with tears welling up in your eyes. It was your dress he proposed to you in. It was admired in jewels and yellow sunflower like petals and soft like satin and silk. It was one of a kind. Your debating stopped instantly and you proceeded to put on the dress.

FAST FORWARD TO WEDDING :>

“We are gathered here today t-.” “STOP THE WEDDING!” A random voice yelled…

You felt like your heart was going to jump out your chest from all the adrenaline rushing. Trying to force your tears down you finally built enough courage to turn around and look to where everyone else was looking. When you finally saw who it was your tears finally escaped their haunted and sorrowful chamber. He was there……

Standing in front of Branch?

Trying to pick him up?

You didn’t wanna get noticed in this state so you turned to leave but you felt a hand grab your flushed smaller ones. It was Branch..”Are you ok?”he asked knowing you weren’t. “I’m ok.” You said quickly dismissing his attempts of comfort. Before you could leave you heard a nickname you never knew you would hear again. “My sunflower?” He must’ve felt the tension he created so he hurried to you and begged you too listen to his explanations and excuses. You couldn’t do nothing, BUT listen so you gave him 3 minutes. “The reason I left was because Brozone was turning into a disaster and I needed to just space myself away for a while!”

You didn’t know whether to be mad or sad or HELL even glad but you knew he was trying to get you to understand. “But did you have to go?” Tears welling up..

Silence…….

“Did you have to leave me alone without telling me ANYTHING?!!?”

“I-“ you didn’t let him finish before you started walking off letting the emotions and realization sink in. He knew he fucked up… He couldn’t let you leave…. He needed his flower…He ran up to you and hugged you as hard as he could to prevent you from leaving and cried like hell was dragging him away from the heaven he created with you. “Sunflower PLEASE, I promise I’ll never leave you again!!” He repeated like his life depended on it. You slowly started to give in and soothed him. “Please Hun, I promise I’ll pro-“ He couldn’t even get done with his sentence before feeling the feeling he oh so missed….

Your lips…

“Please Don’t leave me again.” You said barely above a whisper and your teary E/C eyes looked at him.

He smiled warmly and responded with nothing but sincerity..”Of course not my sunflower.”

THE ENDDDDDDD☺️🫶🏿

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Ten ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Ten Warnings: profanity Click on the first tag to see all the other chapters

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

[Chapter Ten]

You pressed the stone on your bracelet feverishly in a string of long and short beeps, hoping Lucifer would receive it. 

They know. Me and you. They know. 

The stone lit up, indicating he had heard you. You pulled your sleeve down over the accessory, and smiled brightly at Avery, one of the exorcists, who was approaching you down the street. She smiled back, but it was shadowed with the disappearance and probable death of her friend who hadn’t come back from the extermination a week ago. 

You’d met in the street and she had stopped you to talk- something that happened to you quite frequently whenever you went out. But now you were itching to get away, now that Adam knew- anyone could have known.

“Well well well. Look who it is.”

You turned your head to see Adam and Lute. Avery perked up. 

“Adam, Lute! How was the meeting?”

Adam yawned animatedly. “Boring. Lucifer’s-“ his eyes shifted towards you “-brat showed up. Has some stupid hotel for redemption or something.” His snickers turned into a flurry of raucous laughter, and even Lute next to him looked smug, yet contemptful. 

“Er, what?” 

Both their eyes turned to you in unison. 

“What meeting?”

“We had a meeting in the Heaven Embassy. Charlie Morningstar was there,” she explained slowly, as if you were stupid, and also because Adam had just stared at you for a good six seconds without any response. “She wanted to redeem sinners,” Lute spat.“Stupid idea.”

Your mind swirled at Charlie’s name, and you bit back your objection- if angels could fall, why couldn’t sinners rise?- but you decided it was best to not disagree with Adam for the time being. 

“Agreed,” you said rigidly. Adam nodded, as if he was pleased with what he heard, then turned to Lute.

“C’mon danger tits,” he said. “Let’s get outta here.”

You watched them disappear down the street.

“Well he’s quite a character,” Avery piped up. You turned to her. You had forgotten she was there, you realized, taking in a deep breath and sighing it out.

“Right. Well. There’s not much one can do.”

Avery laughed. “He’s the first man. Do you ever think it got to his head?” She fell silent, flushing. “Don’t tell anyone I said that, though.”

You gave her a wan smile. “Don’t worry. I can keep a secret.”

♱♱♱

Your hand gripped the edge of the sink, before your eyes met your own haggard reflection in the glass in front of you. You winced at your eyebags, which boasted your lack of sleep proudly, and your dull complexion. 

One month left. You still hadn’t decided. 

You debated between going to the living room and tidying up a bit, or going back to your bedroom and falling asleep for what could hopefully be at least a year. You could wake up and realize this was all just a dream. The past seven years, since the day you had met Lucifer, had been just a dream. You slunk back into your bedroom, shutting the door and climbing into bed. Something drifted out of the sheets and landed soundlessly on the floor, and you bent down to pick it up. 

A single red feather. From his wing.

Something swelled in your throat, tears threatening to spill out from your eyes. You sniffled, then bent over, shoulders racked with silent sobs. You ran a hand through your hair, fingers tangling with the strands and tugging it involuntarily.

A couple of quick, polite knocks on the front door snapped you out of your state. You sniffled again, wiping your eyes hastily. They sounded nothing like Adam or Lute, who usually knocked as if the door was unbreakable, or simply barged in. You picked your way across the messy living room and opened the door. 

“Sera,” you said, trying to make your voice sound bright and welcoming but it just rasped out instead. Sera’s smile began to fade once she saw you, her eyes looking up and down, taking you in, in all your exhausted glory.

“[name],” she said, and her voice betrayed no emotion. You tilted your head to the side.

Fuck. She knows.

“Yes?” You said dryly, trying to hide the fact that your heart was going a million kilometers per second. 

Sera cleared her throat, straightening up. “I’ll cut straight to the point.” You stiffened, waiting for the blow. “Heaven has visitors. From Hell, arriving this week, to plead their case in court- that redemption may be possible for sinners.”

You nodded slowly, the dread melting away as you relaxed. 

“We need a place for them to stay, only for a little while, and seeing that you are- supposed to-“ she frowned as your stare darkened, “-be one of the most powerful souls here, due to your purity-“

“You want me to take them in while they’re here,” you said flatly. She nodded and smiled, continuing, trying to convince you, confident she would.

“It’s safer to put them with you than some random hotel, and your house is quite big, you’ve got plenty of guest rooms, and you’re quite- supposed to be-“ she waved her hands around, as if she was trying to bat your sharpening glare away from her, “-proper, collected… neat and tidy…” Her gaze drifted behind you into your living room and she winced. 

You twisted your head round to look over your shoulder, then snapped your eyes back to her. “I’ll get myself presentable for them,” you said gruffly. Sera smiled again, and you wondered if she actually believed you. Clearing your throat, you forced a smile, even though it came out as a grimace. 

“So. Who exactly are these lovely… wayward souls?”

Sera’s expression hardened. “Charlie Morningstar, the Princess of Hell,” she said stiffly, and then relaxed. “And some other… sinner who she’s going to bring along with her.”

The word ‘Morningstar’ knocked the breath right out of you. 

“Oh,” you managed to utter. Sera smiled tightly. You cleared your throat.

“Well.” You squared your shoulders. “I look forward to meeting her. Sera nodded shortly.

“I’m sure you do.” Her voice dropped as she leaned forward suddenly, and you took a step back. “[name], are you sure you’re alright?” You forced a smile.

“I’m just fine, Sera.”

♱♱♱

A/N: Hey guys! Rain here. Multiple things I’d like for it to be known:

-Exams are coming up, and I have a fuck ton of stuff to study. It’s meant to be one of the most important exams in my course so… it’s a pretty big deal.

-Meaning, this might be the last chapter I’ll be able to get out for a while. Either that, or updates will be slower. Luckily, once exams end I have three months of freedom and will be able to update as much as possible!

-until then, I am going to write oneshots now and then, and am also opening my requests! More details are on the pinned post on my blog. (Pls send me a request it makes me feel cool… :’) no like please PLEASE SEND REQUESTS I literally have nothing to write otherwise)

-all I’m saying is, I just won’t be able to write as much cause I’ll be super busy. Don’t worry haha I am NOT going on Hiatus. The taglist is still open.

Taglist: @boredlime, @ica1, @tremendoushearttaco, @sweetadonisbutbetter, @lucky-flowey,@kitty-kei, @thornwolfy235, @w31rd3rg1rl, @marxo5, @lvstyangel, @brainz00, @lukerycyja-reblogs, @dickmastersworld,@everlastprime259-blog, @rain-doll401-blog, @bakugounuggets, @ren-ren23, @mjhehe09, @angelicwillows, @rayyrayysanchez, @luleck, @dellugh-shposts, @rebecca-hvnstn, @l0v3lyx, @ravenswritingroom, @rattyrattyratty, @lovayle, @relatedsoda, @cimadreamer, @valckenaux, @lauruoriii, @deardaffy, @randompersonnotoneaeth, @bloody-delusion-expert, @vampirefilmlover, @lillianastuff, @tsukiko26

[blasphemecel]

Michael Kaiser — Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.3k TYPE: Angst, Post-break up WARNING(S): Don't read if you're sensitive to medical stuff, also tw for KAISER-TYPICAL MELODRAMA

“Are you fucking kidding me? That just sounds made up.”

“Sir,” the doctor, who’s been having to deal with Kaiser acting like the hospital is a debate club for the past fifteen minutes, says. Then he lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. In all honesty, he does not want to deal with this. “While there’s an existing argument about the classification of broken heart syndrome, it is a real thing that happens. And you have it as we’ve deduced.”

“I don’t have health problems,” Kaiser says. Of course, those words fly out of his mouth without trouble even when Ness had to call an ambulance on him and everything, since he looked like he was on the brink of death today at practice. “Much less from bullshit reasons like a broken heart.”

“You don’t need to take it literally. That’s just the name. The trigger for the stress varies from case to case.”

Kaiser hopes his defensive statement didn’t reveal anything too personal, and decides to throw off any suspicion by staring down at his lap while frowning like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. At least the doctor doesn’t seem to care because he’s not prying for unnecessary details. Not yet, anyway.

“For how long have you been ignoring the symptoms?”

“I haven’t been ignoring anything,” Kaiser says.

Sure, he was dizzy a few (many) times and short of breath, and disregarded it. And while he can sense the tightness and pain in his chest each time, a recurring physical and tangible ache, Kaiser interprets the experience as some kind of metaphor for the figurative stabbing he was a victim of. The arrhythmia is a natural indignant response to whenever your irritating face pops up in his imagination, since you’re the perpetrator.

All this over some shitty break up. While it’s stupid for someone whose career is in sports to shrug off such obvious signs, until today Kaiser never truly thought it was serious enough to warrant such an overreaction from his body. You shouldn’t have this much power over him. He’s going to kill you next time he sees you for doing this to him.

He’s deep in denial and the grave he’s been digging with his stupid lies is shallow in contrast, inefficient. Can’t even deceive himself.

“It’s most common in people over fifty.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes. “Thanks. I really needed to hear that.”

“What I’m saying is, I assume you’ve been ignoring this for some time and it escalated to a bad attack. So, do you recall if you’ve gone through severe stress recently? Anything traumatizing even, either physically or mentally? When was it? If you could be exact, that’d be helpful.”

Traumatizing? Traumatizing? Is this man fucking kidding him right now?

Kaiser stares at the doctor as if he’s the stupidest person alive. Forget a person, he is a bug for such a suggestion. Through grit teeth, he relents, “There was something two weeks ago. By the way, it wasn’t traumatizing! That’s ridiculous.”

What’s even more absurd is the notion Kaiser wouldn’t know how much time has passed with perfect accuracy. Fourteen days he hasn’t been sleeping well, hugging his pillow and crying like a loser, cursing you, wanting you back, both a worshipper and a heretic.

What was he feeling at that moment, when you broke things off? Was it overwhelming anger which got him to this point? Though he’s been reliving the moment over and over, Kaiser still can’t identify it. Just something intense zapping him through his veins, a devastating shock, a surge of adrenaline. But surely it was resentment at your audacity to throw him away like disposable trash? He doesn’t like the thought that he’s been so pathetically sad, he got sick because of it, so this is what he’ll go with.

Thinking about it is enough to make him start picking at the skin on his neck like he’s trying to peel the ink off. It’s almost vile. At least he retains the common sense not to squeeze it in front of a medical professional who can send him away to a psych ward with ease.

The doctor, too, looks at Kaiser like he is an insane person. Good thing they pay him enough for this — otherwise, he doesn’t know how he’d deal with having a strange man with a bizarre haircut give him attitude over his diagnosis when it should be reserved for his barber or whoever is responsible.

“Two weeks ago, okay,” he says, writing it down. “Lucky for you, this is temporary and reversible unlike most other things we checked you for. You’ll be fine in about two months with the treatment.”

“So, like I thought, it’s not a big deal. I can still play football, right? Don’t need to lay off or anything?” Kaiser asks.

The doctor sighs. Again. He wants to measure the circumference, thickness and density of Kaiser’s skull. “You’re not listening,” he says, clearly exasperated, but still trying to exert patience. “Your heart is weak and not functioning properly at the moment. You can’t immediately jump back into living the way you usually do. It’s still serious no matter what you say and it can cause complications.”

Kaiser makes an annoyed expression like this is all one big inconvenience rather than a threat to his quality of life. “Are you serious? You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I’m honored you seem to think I’m a hilarious comedian, sir, since this is your nth time asking, but it’s not the case,” he says levelly.

“Don’t get clever with me.”

A sharp inhale through the nose and the doctor’s back on track, maintaining a feeble grasp on his inner peace, at least enough not to snap. Then, after this brief recollection, he reaches out to grab something, then holds it up. It’s a picture that looks either like an abortion-to-be or a black and white photo of lasagna… maybe. “This is your heart.”

Kaiser almost forgot about the ultrasound or whatever since he was strung out and sedated- relaxed throughout that whole ordeal. At the sight of it now, always theatrical, he decides the best course of action is to wrinkle his nose and say ‘eww,’ even though he’s not squeamish. But treating the matter seriously means admitting he has a problem, and he can’t have that.

The doctor pretends he can’t hear anything and points at the relevant area with his finger to illustrate the crux of the matter better. “You have apical ballooning. Do you get it? Even if it’s temporary, you can’t treat it lightly. So-”

Kaiser tunes out the rest of the explanation. Blah, blah, he could harm himself, very original. His gaze is stuck on the echocardiogram, though, and this time he’s nauseous for real, the tiniest bit. It strikes him as particularly ugly and deformed. Organs are repulsive to begin with, anyway, but this… thing is his, and he’s seeing it now. In any case, nothing so disgusting is worth loving or treating with care.

Is this how you’ve come to see him? What does Kaiser look like in your eyes? Ugly and maladjusted on the inside? Someone who likes laughing at other people’s misery, but can’t take even the slightest puncture? So out of touch with his emotions — and of his own volition —, he’s started experiencing them in the most visceral way possible. His desire for you: torment, a disease.

Would you find him dramatic? Maybe, but at least you’d make him laugh and smile and anything else his troubled mind has decided he needs at the moment, from you alone. Doesn’t matter, though. He’s not privy to that kind of thing, not anymore.

There’s a sting in his eyes and Kaiser wipes away his tears with a hasty swipe, though a few more stream down his cheeks. He doesn’t even know what he’s crying about again.

The doctor observes the display with the distanced apathy of someone who’s watched people die and shit themselves.

He gets discharged with a prescription and elaborate instructions on how to go about his physical activities until it’s deemed he’s fully healed at the later check-ups.

Great. Pitiful.

___

What's funny is that Y/n's probably having a good day while all this is going on

[tiredfox64]

May I request a part 2 to your Havik “You Have Freedom” fanfic? This felt so good to read. Truly liberating 💖

Test Your Freedom

Yip notes: I saw that you really loved the first part. Hopefully I can do you justice with this one as well.

Pairing: Havik x Gn reader

Warnings ‼️: Mention of abusive/toxic relationship, violence (not towards you), he is so strange, what a little goober

You are lucky. Very lucky indeed. Havik was your unexpected savior and you were grateful to have him in your life.

It’s been a year since you started dating him. Every day you were healing from the horrible past that you experienced. You were weary of him dropping his façade and would start gaslighting you into thinking you were crazy like all your exes did. But it never happened and it never will. He’s not like the others. He’s better than them.

I wasn’t lying.

Havik lets you do your own thing while he does his own. You go out more frequently to have fun with your friends or even have the chance to see your family. You get to eat whatever you want without him judging you and telling you to watch your weight. You don’t need to ask for his permission, just tell him what you are going to do so he knows in case of anything. In return, you don’t pay any mind to what he does. It’s best that you don’t. He doesn’t want you to know all the heinous acts he commits.

The one thing you haven’t done with him is introduce him to anyone. Not that it really matters to him his presence will be found out one day. But to you, you feel guilty for hiding him away from everyone. The first guy who has treated you right and you were afraid to even have your closest friends meet him. You could have been worried that they would assume the worst of him based on his looks. Or even that he would kill you one day. If that were true he would have done that a long time ago. Havik genuinely loves you and wants you to be safe. The thought that anyone would think negatively when you see him so positively saddens you. Maybe you will hold off on introducing him to others. Slowly expose them to the truth.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

You invited your friends to come over since it’s been so long since they visited. You told Havik to stay in your room till your friends left.

Havik loves you but he won’t listen to every command you give him. When he wants to move, he’ll move.

So as you and your friends are catching up about what’s been going on and having some snacks you hear a ‘thud’ sound from your room. Oh geez, he’s on the move. One of your friends joked about you already having a new partner and your other friends felt like it was in poor taste to say something like that. Your face was blank with the only hint of emotion being a weak smile. You thought if you ignored it then they would ignore it. Your friends couldn’t ignore the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the steps.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Soon enough you heard your friends gasp in horror once they saw Havik. Not only did his mutilated face scare them but since he had no shirt on they could see all the scars he had. The only thing that he had on was a pair of sweatpants and he may not be wearing any boxers under there, my gosh he truly loves being free in every sort of way. And what does he do in response to your friends' reactions? Nothing. He’s just coming down for some food. Like a slab of frozen meat or a head of lettuce. He doesn’t eat normally but you’re not gonna change that.

He got what he wanted from the fridge before heading back up the stairs. All the while you kept that weak smile on your face. You can’t ignore what just happened. It’s like ignoring a buffalo breaking into your house, you can’t.

“What…was…that?” One of your friends asked.

“Uhm…” You debated about telling the truth or not, “My imaginary boyfriend.”

You heard Havik let out an amused ‘hah’ at the top of the steps because your efforts were too ridiculous.

You spilled the beans. You were honest with your friends and told them how you started dating Havik near the time your last ex left you. You told them that he was the one to walk you home. Your friends were unsure about this situation. They’re not gonna victim blame but you did have a bad history when it came to dating. Havik looks like the worst choice you’ve ever made. If they saw how he usually dressed and the weapons he had they surely would think you were in trouble. But they also realize that if you were telling the truth about how long you two were dating that means he was letting you do whatever you please. The others didn’t allow you to do that. You did seem much happier as well, even insisting that they come for a visit. If what you say is true, they want to make sure of it.

They told you to bring him back down so they could “observe” him, whatever that meant. You were unsure but realized that they only wanted the best for you. You told them certain likes don’t ask him about his scars or face, don’t start making rules, don’t start shit in general. You got up to get Havik.

“Could you do me a favor?” You asked him.

“You want me to go down there to have your friends judge me, don’t you.” He hit the nail on the head.

You were about to tell him never mind but he picked you up and threw you over his shoulders. He knew this would happen. Relationships call for this moment. He had one request.

“Don’t have them treat me like a freakshow. I can’t promise I will be gentle with them like I am with you.”

Your friends were alerted by the heavy footsteps and stared at Havik carrying you over his shoulders. He went over to the couch you were sitting on and laid you down before deciding to lay on top of you. His head rested on your chest as his arms wrapped around your waist. If it wasn’t for his burned face your friends would have said he looks peaceful while resting on you.

Your friends began asking him questions like how does he feel about you going out and would he allow you to do certain things like take a week-long vacation. The only answer they got out of him was “I don’t care”. You couldn’t tell if he was saying that in regard to whatever you do or if he was blankly telling your friends he didn’t care what they were asking him. You didn’t get the chance to ask him since they were throwing out questions left and right. After a while, he stopped answering them. Maybe an occasional grunt, but nothing more. He had his eyes closed acting like he fell asleep but you knew he was wide awake.

You’re not afraid that he will be angry after this because you know he will pass it off as something irrelevant. He tends to not listen to people when they are criticizing him. Havik knows at this point that you know he loves you and he knows you love him back. That’s all that matters. Your friends can keep testing, but they will eventually have to accept the truth. He would and could make them accept it now but you would tell him not to because you know what he would do.

Your friends were not too on board with you dating Havik. They find his dismissive behavior to be a red flag. You don’t see it that way because it isn’t that way. He has nothing to hide, this is just how he is because of his past. In fact, he was pretty calm at the moment until someone started slamming their fist against your front door. Then you heard a voice. Your ex’s voice.

His tone was aggressive and you heard him slurring. He was defiantly drunk. It wasn’t even the typical time for happy hour. You heard his voice calling towards you to open the door. He said he knows your friends are in there as well and that they can’t protect you. Immediately his tone changed quickly to begging for you back, saying he will be a better man. You’ve heard those promises before and they were never true.

You began shaking and holding Havik’s head closer to you. He tried his best to soothe you by rubbing your arm. He needed you to let him go. He slowly got up and walked over to the window. Lo and behold he saw your ex. Havik walked back towards you but grabbed one of your friends to drag them closer to you. He advised them to not let you near the windows or doors. They didn’t know what he was about to do but they got the hint when he walked over to the door and immediately headbutted your ex when he opened the door. Your ex fell back with his hands covering his bloody nose and Havik closed the door behind him so you didn’t have to see the bloodbath that would appear.

Havik grabbed your ex by the neck and dragged him to the forest near your home. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ex’s neck, causing a more painful sensation than a burning one. Once he was far away from the house he started wrecking your ex. Havik broke off parts of his own body to use his bones to stab. Your ex stood little chance. He had many opportunities to leave you alone but he always came back. Havik could not stand for that anymore. He would have killed him the first time but you were always around. Now was his chance to do you right and permanently end your suffering.

“You have permission…to die.” He said. It’s ironic that your ex always made you ask for permission. How the tables have turned.

Soon the pleas turned to gargling. Limb after limb was being ripped from Havik’s body only to be regenerated back in seconds. A painful cycle for his victim. An unholy demise for an unholy being. One would not say he was killed like cattle. This was a murder that could not be mentioned in a true crime show. All that was left was a mess that wouldn’t be cleaned up by your boyfriend. He will leave that job to the animals who were already coming close to take a piece of flesh or bone for themselves.

Havik did his best to hide what just happened. Any spot that he saw blood on he ripped that part of his body off to regenerate it back clean. He walked back into the house to spot you nearly hyperventilating. Once you saw him you ran into his arms. You were babbling things that no one could understand. Whatever it was it could wait. You needed to be taken care of. Havik picked you up and had your arms and legs wrap around him before taking you up to your room. Your friends let him do that, feeling like he might be able to calm you down.

When you both were back in your room he laid you on the bed and held you close. He licked your tears away as he comforted you with his words.

“You don’t have to worry anymore. You are free.” “Your chains are broken.” “You will never be controlled again; I’ll make sure of that.” “You did nothing wrong.” “I will make everything better.” “No one will cause you pain if it’s the last thing I do.”

Your breathing started to slow down and your took in every word he said. His licking has become a new comfort for you. Your fear and anxiety went down once you realized it was over. Fully over. Havik pressed his forehead against yours as he allowed your head to rest on your pillows. It was a blur after that.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

You woke up randomly. The golden light of the setting sun filled your room, letting you know that it was getting late. Havik was asleep next to you, drooling away as usual. You needed a drink of water after that emotional episode. You got up and went downstairs.

When you got to the last step you realized your friends were still there. They ran up to you and hugged you while asking if you were okay. You nodded which was relieving to them. They were so worried about you but were grateful to hear your crying stop quickly once Havik brought you upstairs.

They apologized for doubting your boyfriend and doubting you. After seeing how quickly he acted both when defending you and calming you down, they saw him as a green flag. A little weird and horrific, but he’s chill. They were happy that you finally found someone good for you and they promised not to butt it too much with this relationship. They could see clearly that you were in good hands with a man who wanted to give you the freedom you deserved. Hearing that was the greatest thing to you. You knew you had finally won and got what you deserved.

So Havik is a little off. He can be a bit scary and even uncanny to look at. And some of his methods could be extreme. Not a little bit extreme, they are full-on extreme. But when it comes to you, he is perfect for you. You are perfect for him.

The only thing I would ask of you is to keep him on a good path. Do you think you can do that?

Yap notes: I saw a blue jay this morning and immediately when woooooooooah. That has nothing to do with the fic but I thought y'all should know. I wanted to post yesterday but I was having anxiety problems and fell down the rabbit hole of ARGs. Fucking Wyoming. I like and dare i say love Havik now. I lied to my friend and said he scares me. But I'd try my best to give him a kiss. I made a comment on a tiktok yesterday on an edit of him saying i would shove my hand through his chest cavity and take his heart. The creator said he would love that and now that's a headcanon of mine. This was too much and i need to feed my dog. Adiós!

[morgluvsconnie]

VOW, a.arlert

↜ CHAP.3 / not proof read yet! fluff, mild language :) / CHAP.4

A/N / HEYYY um this week been long asf & i’ve been so busy 😭 but this chapter is just calm and nice yk? updating friday as a bonus bcus i won’t be able to finish the chapter tonight, enjoy!

“i just don’t think she like me.”

you mumbled to sasha while sitting in the bleachers. you watched as the boys practiced for an upcoming basketball game.

“she just acts like that because eren was looking at you.”

“he don’t like me either.”

“eren would fuck a leaf if it had a pussy. he likes everything and everyone.” sasha looked at an assignment she decided to do early.

you stared at the basketball players practicing, just now realizing armin said he played. it took you by surprise for just a second, even though he told you only a few days ago.

and talking about the situation with sasha was late, simply because you didn’t wanna remind yourself of how embarrassing it was to be around new people.

crossing your legs, you watched as the basketball coach spoke to armin, seeing him pinch his practice jersey and pull on it a few times.

some of his hairs sticking to his forehead as he looked around at the rest of the players. eren too, on the other side of the court, putting his shoes on while he sat on the ground.

“how long he been playin?” you asked sasha.

she finally looked up after some seconds of focusing on her laptop. “who, eren?”

“no. armin.”

“you’re obsessed.”

you scoffed. “i just wanna know.” you leaned back against the stands behind you. “‘s not like i like him.”

“but you like him.” she raised a brow.

you tilted your head side to side, thinking. “i like him. as a friend.”

sasha put her laptop to the side and sat up, turning towards you and crossing her arms. you sighed at her obvious body language. “now he’s your friend. thought you hated everyone there but jean and ony?” she smiled.

you sighed loudly, waiting for her to answer your previous question.

as sasha caught on, she smacked her lips and grabbed her laptop, “ion know, ask him.”

quickly shaking your head, you looked back down at armin. “we don’t talk like that.”

“you can’t ask a simple question?” sasha squinted in genuine confusion. you took a deep breath in and continued to watch armin with an exhale. “gonna make it seem like i wanna get to know him.”

“you don’t?”

you looked at sasha with an ‘obviously’ type of look and she hummed. “well to be honest, i don’t know. probably since middle school?” she shrugged, moving her attention to armin.

“eren started like two years ago but he was too busy with football for it.”

you looked over to eren, who’d looked up after a few seconds and glanced at you. you rolled your eyes as you saw him walk over to armin, who was having a water break, and point at you with a grin.

armin scanned the bleachers before finally spotting you, smiling and pointing before waving.

you raised your brows with a light smile and tilted your head to greet him back.

“oh yeah, did i tell you annie’s his ex?”

“annie?” you frowned in disbelief, looking at sasha. sasha sucked in air between her teeth and cringed. “ah, yeah. she’s shady as fuck when it comes to armin. and if you get close enough…” she pursed her lips together, hinting what would happen.

“i really don’t care.” you shrugged while shaking your head. “like i said, it’s not like i want him. just tryna be friends is all.”

“you just said he wasn’t your friend.” sasha widened her eyes with a smile. “see? you like him.”

after a long debate, and a moment of an awkward silence as sasha waited for you to explain why you wanted to be his friend, it was time to go.

you grabbed your bag and made your way down the steps.

your movements halted when you heard your name being called, you and sasha looking back to see who it was.

and to your surprise, “shut up sasha.” eren nudged sasha’s arm, making her frown and push him back. their bickering was completely ignored by you and armin, who’d walked out of the gym with you.

“i never seen you in there before.” he looked down at you, wiping his sweat and downing a bottle of water.

“she insisted.” you looked at sasha who walked a few feet in front of both of you, beside eren.

“bet she did.” armin pulled out his phone and went to the camera to fix his hair. “was hoping…” he flicked a strand. “…you came to see me practice.” he mumbled.

as armin held the door for you, you both walked to the exit of the campus.

you laughed softly, “if you asked.”

armin smiled, scratching his head. “well, since youn wanna watch me practice, come to my game tomorrow.”

raising a brow, you looked at him. “you want me to?”

he made an “ehhh” sound and nodded. “i’ll play better if you come. if ion got support ima start slacking.” he admitted, but you just shook your head.

“ion know.”

considering you’d just met him, there’s no possible way he was saying all this right now and actually meaning it, not just to flatter you.

“you good.” he looked up at you from his phone and put it in his pocket. looking around, he put his hands in his pockets. “you stay around here?”

you nodded, looking at the houses you passed.

“me too.”

“so the friend group does stay on the same block.”

“only me, you, and eren.” armin laughed lightly and glanced at you. it went silent, the only sound being your shoes rubbing against the sidewalk with every few steps.

swallowing, armin bit his top lip, looking at you again like he was remembering something. looking down and too the side, armin clears his throat.

“live wit parents?”

“you blushing?”

armin frowned into a confused expression and stared at you for a moment. “what?” he turned towards you, giving you a clearer view of his face.

“your face—its pink.” you explained, examining his face.

and it was pink, just as said. from the bottom of the outter corner of his left eye, to the outter corner of his right. his ears were a hue of light pink.

you started to smile into a laugh.

armin just stayed silent and scrunched his nose up at you, looking at the pavement silently. “ion know what you talkin bout.” he kicked a small pebble.

it came to your realization that the sun was setting, and the pink shade on his face only showed up because of that.

the orange light from the setting sun made his face pink.

armin, coming to the realization of what you’d noticed, turned away and started to walk, you, talking a couple quick steps to catch up to him.

“and yeah, i do live wit my parents.” you answered his previous question, which he’d forgotten all about.

as he nodded slowly, he spoke, “me too. well, my dad.”

you raised your eyebrows and looked at him. “‘s it fun? where’s mom?”

getting caught a little off guard by your choice of wording when it came to mentioning his mom, he just shrugged quickly, as if he knew you’d ask the question.

“it’s… shit, ion know. it’s cool.” he looked up to the sky. “like…” he started, trying to explain, but you stopped him in his steps with a grab to the forearm.

“my stop.” you jutted your head towards your house.

“oh, shit.” he laughed before exhaling. “about that game.”

“still don’t know.”

“let me know.”

“no number.” you paused. “well, i’ll tell sasha. she’ll tell you, i hope.”

armins hand paused on his phone that rested in his pocket. “oh. yeah, okay.” he rubbed his arm with a groan. “ima see you tomorrow, if you come to the game.”

you glanced back at your house before looking up at armin.

“i’ll be there.”