#I think now I need to stop thinking about it and go to bed

[katiascraft]

﹙MV1﹚ ── ❝ am i enough? ❞

summary: max feels insecure about his body :( (so you comfort him)

warnings: none. it's just pure fluff.

author's note: first time writting 'bout max. short but i just felt i had to write this for some reason. hope it isn't stupid. love you all <3

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Max was taking a shower in the in-room bathroom of our ensuite bedroom in your Monaco house. It was quiet in the monegasque night. You were getting in your pajamas not thinking much about the world and trying to tidy up the room a bit because none of you had time to actually tidy all of it up the proper way. But this will make it for now. 

You heard the shower turned off. Max seemed off all day. He was unusually quiet. You tried to comfort him as much as you could but something was going on in that head of his. But you didn’t want to pressure him nor invade his space when he feels like this. Even if you don’t know what's actually going on with him. You just knew he felt sad. The look in his eyes said it all to you but respected him and let him take his time until he wants to talk about it. 

After a few minutes Max finally gets out of the bathroom. To your surprise he is fully dressed and with the hood of his hoodie over his head. You frown a bit when you see him. This is very unlike max, you thought. He usually walks around th house in just boxers with not a single care. So this was worrying. 

He didn’t say a word. He just crawled into the bed and adjusted himself under the sheets. You looked at him a bit worried and even though you wanted to let him take his time, you needed to check in. 

“Max, are you ok?” your voice was soft and low. You didn’t want to make him feel pressured with the questions. He stopped looking at his phone. Tiktoks could be heard playing on his screen. He blocked it and paid attention to you. “You've been off all day baby, do you want to talk about it? No pressure” you continued looking at him in the eyes trying to figure out what was going on with him but unable to anyway. 

He licked his lips nervously “i’m not okay” his voice was below whisper and you thought you heard a crack. That made sirens in your head turn on. You crawled the bed and laid next to him.

“What’s wrong baby?” you said gently caressing his hair. Worry all over your eyes expecting his answer.

He took his time trying to find some comfort in your gentle gesture. He was a bit ashamed of his feelings even when it came to you. 

“I just looked in the mirror this morning and i didnt like what ive seen to be honest” his voice was shaky between hurt and anxiety. He didn't want to be judged but even though he knew you wouldn't, his pattern because of childhood trauma was still there. Triggering him all the damn time. And sometimes, like today, it takes it stoll in him. 

Your heart broke listening to him saying all of those words aloud. That’s because you got him so well. 

“Baby, I got you. But you’re so beautiful my love. Don’t let those evil voices in your head win” you said, understanding him and trying to give him some comfort. He looked at you with puppy eyes. He was in the book of crying with his lips pouting.

“You really think I'm enough?” His voice is so tiny and shaky. This is so heartbreaking. You got closer to him so you could look each other in the eye and feel you close. You grabbed his face gently, caressing his cheek sweet. 

“Maxie, my love, you’re more than enough. You’re so fucking beautiful max emilian, everytime i look at you the only thing i can see is beauty” you tried to reassured him. He couldn’t look at your eyes anymore or else he would start crying. 

“But I don't have a pretty face nor a good body. I'm not like danny or lewis or even charles.they look good, i don't. I look squishy… i don't like it at all” his voice now expressed a bit of anger. You assumed it was rustration. You shook your head looking at him and trying to find his eyes again. 

“Baby, don’t compare yourself. You’re beautiful in your own way. You have a pretty face, you have a good hell of a body. Max, you’re so hot i can’t even control myself most times” you tried to make him laugh but he smiled at best. Your heart ached for him. “I know it's hard , okay? I know you’re exposed to the world to see and to have an opinion on you. And that must be really hard for you to deal with. I know. And people are mean and will comment so much nonsense just to hurt you. That’s all they want. Don't let them win, baby. They say ugly things about you for a reason, right? Because you’re too hot, too good and a fucking world champion. They can’t cope with that much in one single person.” finally you made him giggle a little. You smiled sweetly at him. 

He hugged you, hiding his face on your neck. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, caressing his back gently. 

“So am i enough?” he asked in a whisper. Your hand on his hair makes him feel safe. 

“More than enough, maxie. You’re gorgeous and I can not be more obsessed with you. "You kissed his head softly. And you didn’t see him but he has a smile on his face now. 

“I love you, y/n” he said, pressing a soft kiss on our neck. That sent shivers down your spine and smiled sweetly. 

“Love you my super hot and fast formula one racing driver, no one can compete with you” you said cheeky and made him giggle. When he got apart you say he cried but hid. It broke your heart a little but you understood. Gently you whipped his tears with your thumb. 

“And i love my super duper beautiful, caring, loving and perfect girlfriend” he said now making you giggle. You loved that man to death. 

And he loved you until forever falls apart.

˖ ֹ੭୧ the end ⊹ ࣪ ⑅

don't forget to like, reblog and comment i you liked it! and follow me so we can be friends <3 (and drink mate together)

[premiumbitch]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ SHIFT LIKE A BAD BITCH: ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW ⭑.ᐟ

Listen up, babe. Why are you acting like shifting is some impossible, mystical riddle when it’s literally just stepping into your power? You shift every damn day—when you daydream, when you dissociate in class, when you imagine yourself as the main character while strutting down the street. So, let’s drop the self-doubt. First things first—stop overcomplicating it. You don’t need a 37-step method, a full moon ritual, or to chant in Latin while burning sage (unless you want to, of course). Shifting is as natural as flipping your hair and making men nervous. You set your intention, you believe it’s already yours, and you let go. It’s that simple. Now, let’s talk mindset. If you’re sitting there whining about how you can’t shift, you’re already blocking your own power. A bad bitch doesn’t beg, she expects. You don’t chase, you attract. You don’t doubt, you decide. And best believe, your reality will bow to you accordingly. Still struggling? Here’s a little secret: shifting is about embodiment. You want to be that version of yourself in another reality? Start acting like her right now. What does she think? How does she move? How does she speak? Become her before you even shift, and watch how effortlessly you glide into her world. And babe, please—detach from the outcome. The moment you start acting desperate, the universe puts you on read. You wouldn’t double-text a man who isn’t worthy of you, so why are you energetically begging to shift? Relax, take a deep breath, and let your new reality come to you. So go ahead—get comfy, set that intention, and step into your next-level life like the powerful, unbothered queen that you are. Because reality isn’t just something you live in—it’s something you own.

FREQUENT QUESTIONS:

Q: Why haven’t I shifted yet? why are you acting like shifting is playing hard to get? It’s not ghosting you—you’re just overthinking. The more you stress, the more you block yourself. Relax, trust, and let it come to you. You don’t chase a reality, you embody it.

Q: Do I need a specific method? Absolutely not. Methods are like designer bags—cute, but not necessary. You can use the Julia method, Raven method, whatever the fuck method or just lie there looking pretty and expect it to happen. The real key? Your mindset.

Q: What if I fall asleep before I shift? Then congrats, you got some beauty rest. you just did the easiest "method" ever. If you wake up in your DR, amazing. If you wake up in your CR, just assume the shift worked and let your mind catch up. Either way, you win. Stay unbothered. Shifting doesn’t have a deadline. You’ll get there when you stop pressuring yourself. also you do know sleeping doesn't prevent from shifting right? you do know you can sleep like sleeping beauty & still wake up in your dr RIGHT? you do realize sleep methods exist right? not that you even need methods but if you like them then oh well.

Q: Can I shift to any reality? Baby, you can shift to a castle, a spaceship, or a billionaire’s penthouse if you want. Reality is literally your playground. Get creative.

Q: What if I get stuck in my desired reality? First of all, why are you acting like that’s a bad thing? Second, you won’t. That's literally impossible (unless you script or assume you will get stuck ig), if you're not stuck here then you're not stuck there. Your subconscious knows how to bring you back. You have control, always.

Q: Do I need to meditate for hours? Absolutely not. You think a bad bitch has time for that? You can shift while listening to music, scrolling your phone, or lying in bed looking fabulous. Intent > effort.

Q: Can I shift instantly? Of course. Shifting is just a decision. The moment you stop questioning it and just assume it’s done, you’re already there.

Q: "I’m scared of symptoms. What do I do?" Love, why are you scared of your own power? Those tingles, floating sensations, or vibrations? That’s just your body adjusting to being that girl in a new reality. You’re not dying—you’re elevating. Relax, breathe, and let it happen like the divine goddess you are.

Q: "What if I accidentally script something bad?" Girl, do you think the universe is petty like that? Your subconscious knows what you meant. It’s not gonna punish you for a typo. Focus on what you want, not what you fear.

Q: "What if I shift and forget my current reality?" sighhhh you think shifting wipes your memory like a bad hangover? I mean unless you script you'll forget it then no you won't forget it. You will always have full control. If you want to come back, you will. Relax.

Q: "I keep trying, but nothing’s happening." Trying too hard is the problem. Do you try to blink? Do you try to breathe? No—you just do it. Shifting is the same. Stop making it a struggle. Assume it’s easy, and it will be.

Q: "How do I let go?" Beautiful, why are you clinging onto shifting like a man with commitment issues? Desperation blocks manifestation. Let go like you just dropped an ugly ex—unbothered, thriving, and moving on. Assume it’s already done and go about your day. A bad bitch doesn’t beg for results—she expects them.

Q: "Can I shift if I have doubts?" Doubts are like split ends—cut them off. You don’t need perfect belief, but you do need to stop letting doubt run the show. If you assume shifting works even just a little, that’s enough. Confidence is key.

Q: "What if I get distracted while trying to shift?" Then congrats, babe—you’re human. Distractions don’t ruin shifting. If your mind wanders, gently bring it back, like adjusting a tiara. No stress, no panic—just ease back into it.

Q: "Can I shift while listening to music?" Absolutely. Blast Nicki, sip your iced coffee, and ascend like the main character you are. Shifting isn’t about how you do it—it’s about knowing it’s already done.

Q: "How do I stop overthinking?" why are you treating shifting like an exam? This isn’t a pop quiz—it’s your reality, and you make the rules. Stop analyzing every little detail like a detective. The moment you stop stressing and just assume it’s done, it will be. Overthinking is giving peasant energy—step into your effortless luxury era.

Q: "Can I script this? it sounds kind of unrealistic" sighhh.. the age old question. yes you can. whatever it is: YES. you are limitless. nothing is unrealistic, logic doesn't exist.

Q: "What if I feel nothing while shifting?" And? Do you feel the earth spinning? No, but it’s still happening. Symptoms are cute, but they aren’t required. Stop looking for proof like a desperate dog—trust the process and go.

Q: "Can I shift even if I have a busy mind?" Yes, babe. Your brain is like a nightclub—thoughts come and go, but you’re the VIP. Let them pass and stay unbothered. Shifting isn’t about stopping thoughts; it’s about not letting them control you.

Q: "What if I accidentally shift to the wrong reality?" Girl, be for real. You think your subconscious is messy like that? You always have control. If you don’t like where you landed, shift again. Simple.

Q: "What if I don’t return to my CR?" This isn’t a Netflix horror movie. You will come back if you want to. Your CR isn’t going anywhere, unfortunately.

Q: "How do I shift effortlessly?" Stop treating shifting like a struggle and start treating it like your birthright. A bad bitch doesn’t try—she decides. Relax, assume it’s already done, and let reality catch up.

Q: "What if I keep failing to shift?" Babe, failing where? The only failure here is that mindset. You’re not failing. The more you stress about it, the more you block it. Shifting isn’t a test—you don’t get graded. Relax, breathe, and assume it’s already happening.

Q: "Do I need affirmations?" You don't need anything, only yourself. BUT if you want them then sure use them. Affirmations are like highlighter—cute for the glow, but not mandatory. If they help you step into the mindset, use them. If they feel forced, ditch them. The real key is belief, not repetition.

Q: "How do I make shifting feel natural?" Stop treating it like an impossible goal and start treating it like breathing. You don’t try to breathe, you just do. Shifting is no different. You already shift daily between moods, perspectives, and daydreams. Now, do it with intention.

Q: "What’s the fastest way to shift?" Decide that you already did. honey, reality bends to you, not the other way around. Stop waiting for permission and step into your power.

Q: "Can I shift without a script?" Of course. If you know where you want to go, you don’t need to write a whole novel about it.

Q: "Can I shift while lying on my side?" Yes, babe. You don’t need to be in a coffin position like a Victorian ghost. Shift however you’re comfortable. Nobody is there with a checklist judging your posture.

Q: "Can I shift in the middle of the day?" Yes. You don’t need a bedtime routine and a candlelit ceremony. You can shift whenever because you control reality, not the clock.

Q: "What if I get scared mid-shift?" Then, angel, you take a breath and remind yourself who you are. You’re not trapped, you’re shifting, not dying. You are always in control.

Q: "Do I need a specific method to shift?" No, babe. Methods are cute, but they’re just tools. The real method? Deciding it’s already done. You don’t need a 10-step guide to exist in a reality—just be there.

Q: "What if my house is loud and I can’t focus?" shifting isn’t about perfect silence—it’s about perfect detachment. If your house sounds like a zoo, use it to your advantage. Let the noise fade into the background like white noise and remind yourself: nothing can distract me unless I let it. You could shift in the middle of a concert if you wanted to.

Q: "What if I shift and something scary happens?" And what if it doesn’t? Fear is just your mind playing games. What's the scary thing thats gonna happen hm? Remember: you are always in control. If you don’t like what you see, change the channel. Reality bends to you, not the other way around.

Q: "What if I get interrupted mid-shift?" Then babe, pause and continue later. You think one phone call is stronger than your ability to shift realities? Please. Reality will wait for you.

Q: "Can I shift if I have ADHD or an overactive mind?" Absolutely. Your brain is already used to hopping between thoughts like a playlist on shuffle—just redirect that energy. Let your thoughts flow, but know where they’re leading. You don’t need to force silence; you just need to focus on what matters.

Q: "What if my subconscious blocks me from shifting?" Your subconscious wants what you want, babe. It’s not your enemy, it’s your servant. If you think it’s blocking you, you’re just giving power to a false belief. Rewrite that story.

Q: "Can I shift while listening to music?" Yes! Music is vibe-setting magic. If it helps you feel immersed in your DR, use it.

Q: "How do I stop doubting my ability to shift?" By deciding you’re done with doubt. Doubt is like an annoying person—if you keep entertaining it, it’ll stick around. Instead, act like shifting is already happening, and watch how fast your reality adjusts.

[tokoyamisstuff]

I need some Mohawk mark head cannons I’m desperate for anything please😞😞😞

Sure thing, I love this unhinged little gremlin! Wrote a whole Oneshot as a special treat for you. 💅

Payback

x f! Reader (gender gets mentioned exactly twice)

Synopsis: In his timeline, Mohawk killed you for rejecting him - and now he seeks you out to do it again.

Warnings: mentions of murder and violence, sexual innuendos, unhealthy dynamics, swearing, not proofread

"Y/N? Im hurt...please, I need you! Y/N...? Ah, shit."

Mohawk was kicking the air in frustration, a little pout decorating his face as he scanned the small apartment for any hint of your whereabouts. He had thought you were home, since the window on the top floor stood wide open. Almost too easy.

Bummer. He was really looking forwards to killing you again...

...after all, last time he wasn't able to enjoy himself. Not really. It all happened so fast, the only thing he remembers is that in his lovesickness, he wanted to make you experience exactly how your rejection made him feel.

Before he even knew it, his fist had buried itself through your ribcage, holding your still beating heart in his own hand. The only way he'd ever get to have it - what tragic symbolism.

Not that he'd ever admit, but that betrayed expression of yours before he could literally feel your heart stop haunts him until this day.

The countless photos you had plastered all over one of the walls piqued his interest. Can't hurt to learn more about the version of you from this world, he thinks.

A particular one he rips off, nothing extraordinary but it bugs him how many they are. Plain selfies with you in various years and situations, together with that pathetic loser - the Mark from your timeline.

Seems like you're rather close, unlike him and his Y/N. And that fucker doesn't even realize how lucky he is.

Mohawk grits his teeth, a familiar jealous anger seething in the pit of his stomach once again.

It should've been him!

You on the other hand are blissfully unaware of the intruder in your house, let alone the catastrophy unfolding on the whole globe right this moment.

It was the day after your nightshift and you had just crawled out of bed, no intention of listening to the news as they only kill the vibe anyways. And in the middle of nowhere that you called your hometown, no one bothered giving an alarm or even evacuating, as it's most likely not going to be attacked.

After a nice, steaming hot shower you stroll out of the bathroom, humming a whimsy melody as you mentally prepare your day off...

...until you notice the stranger right in the middle of your living room.

Your shriek actually caughts him off guard and this moron joins right in, but after the initial shock you merely tilt your head in confusion. "...Invincible?"

Damn. Shit. Fuckfuckfuckfuckingfuck!

Mohawks brain currently had a short circuit apparently, staring at your almost naked form like a deer that had just been caught in the headlights.

Your hair was still damp, a towel - that was way too small for this purpose - wrapped around your curves. Shit. Seems like no matter which universe, you're drop-dead gorgeous. He mentally praises Art for having a groin cup sewn into this suit - or else he would've involuntarily presented something to you he's usually not so shy about.

"The one and only." He manages to regain his cool, smugly leaning against a counter...

...however his mind soon went blank once again when you rushed towards him, wrapping your arms around his torso with your barely covered body pressed against his.

Mohawk freezes, arms itching to return the embrace yet instead he lets them fall limp to the side, hands soon balling into tight fists as you stubbornly refuse to let go.

How dare you.

He should snap your neck like a twig- no, better, break every bone in your body for this insolence...

...but instead, he caughts himself resting his chin atop of your head.

"I missed you, ya know?" he mumbles against your hair, feeling the taunting way his heart flutters in his chest. It's drum is so loud in his head, he's certain you can hear it too. Fuck.

What the hell was he doing? He came here to give you a long, agonizing death, for fuck's sake!

"Well, you are the superpowered alien" you tease, softly poking his chest. "Maybe come around more often?"

Your friend was visibly uncomfortable with the whole exchange, but you didn't seem to notice. Whenever he failed to answer, you filled the gaps of silence with your own babbling instead. It's been way too long and you're simply excited to see him again.

"Is that the new suit you were talking about?" you wonder, still holding onto the sides of his shoulders. Feeling a blush form on his cheeks he quietly glances away, feeling oddly embarrassed under your scrutiny.

"It suits you! But what about that hair?" One of your hands runs through his mohawk and he has to physically fight the urge to purr like some needy stray cat. "...you don't like it?"

You shrug, raising your hands in a placating manner. "No, I mean yes, I mean...it looks super cool and all..." That statement made his chest swell with pride, and he could almost feel his confidence returning. "Doesn't really suit an innocent guy like you though, am I wrong?"

Innocent. Ugh. His variant is so fucking boooring, but he couldn't let his true colors show just yet. This was getting way too amusing.

Only now you noticed the huge gash on his left arm where the fabric of his suit was torn, the blood running down your fingers. Hardly a scratch for a superior Viltrumite like he called himself one.

Again Mohawk felt his chest narrowing at such great display of care, the way you worriedly examined his wound despite knowing how tough his kind was. "This is nothing, it'll be healed by-"

"Na-a-ah!" You scolded him and he wanted to sass right back, but all word of protest died on his tongue. "Come, sit down on the sofa. I'll patch you up."

He complies without second thought, following you like a lost puppy.

The heart wants what it wants.

"You finished whatever mission you were on, right? Because I'm almost done cooking as well" you tell him while working on the bandage, and he has a hard time concentrating on anything else when you're so close, touching him so gently, and your eyes shine so bright. "Be my guest?"

His eyes dart bewteen you any the bandage for a brief while, examining your handiwork before sheepishly accepting your offer. "If you insist...got nothing better to do."

Oh.

When he thought there was nothing to lose by staying for a while, he totally forgot about your absolutely horrid cooking. He remembers it from his Y/N, she used to make it all the time.

In his empire he is provided with the most sublime meals, prepared by the best chef's of across the galaxy...and yet, this homely, nostalgic feeling your food provided is something no one could replicate.

"You still eat this crap?" He picks at the food, plain mac and cheese from the box, but you always claimed you 'improve the flavor' somehow.

"Your fault for not calling beforehand. If I knew I'd be having a guest, I'd have cooked something properly." You scold him playfully, gesturing with the fork to add to your statement. "I mean I'm single and practically live at work, why put in the effort?"

You're single.

That damned boyfriend of yours isn't with you in this universe.

Not that it'd have been any hindrance if he was, but this made things so much more easier.

Back at his dimension, he always wondered what you saw in this guy. He was a nobody that could never even dream compare to his greatness - and yet you chose him over Mohawk anyways.

"You're so broody again today." Concerningly enough, that's basically his standard state of being ever since he became a superhero - and knowing him it meant no good. "Do you want to talk about it, or would you like some distraction?"

His screams had been music in his ears, though...

Mohawk puts the plate down, shuffling a little too close for your liking towards the other end of the sofa. His gaze was stern, softening ever so slightly when you put your hand on the small of his back.

"Say, do you..." he swallows hard around the lump forming in his throat, taking both of your hands into his as he stared at you utterly forlorn. "Did you ever think we could've been more than just friends?"

Huh?!?

That question caught you so off guard, for a second you thought about punching yourself in the face to see if you were dreaming.

It's not like you haven't thought about it before, to be perfectly honest.

Mark Grayson is a fairly attractive guy - inside and out - and you two always clicked well. If it wasn't for the huge distance separating you and him, you might've certainly catched feelings.

Your grandma lived next door with his family, so you befriended each other as kids and played whenever you visited her during the holidays. But life happens and people grow up, so even though his powers would easily allow him to visit you more often, his priorities simply lie elsewhere.

You barely text these days, and see each other maybe once or twice a month at max. Adult life gets busy, that's just the way it works.

Not to mention the most important fact: He currently has a girlfriend.

There was a long pause of silence between his question and your answer, and the more time passed the more anxiety - and violent anger - emerged in his brain.

"Be honest" he pushes at your lack of an answer, insistingly squeezing your hands.

"What, trouble in paradise already?" You cut him off with a judging, almost irritated glare and for a moment he is taken aback. "You told me like a week ago how happy you are with Eve, that she's the love of your life, blah blah blah..."

Samantha Eve Wilkins.

Sure, he had been with her before in his world as well, always trying to make you jealous. Claiming that you were insignificant, while he was with a literal goddess...

...and still, whenever they kissed, whenever she laid beneath him, hell, even whenever they just were around each other, all he could think of was how much he yearned for her to be you instead.

It wasn't enough, never enough to make those feelings go away. In the end he killed her simply for the crime of not being able to replace you.

"Sorry, but I'm not a homewrecker." You want to turn away, angry and disappointed that you seemed to have mistaken him for a good guy, but Mark takes ahold of your chin, letting his thumb run over your bottom lip as he forces you to keep looking.

He'd get that attitude out of you pretty easily.

"Y/N..." The name rolls of his lips like a lovesong, and he drags it out for as long as the air in his lungs allowed him to. "There's no more Eve in my life. And I don't want her, or anyone else but you!"

A boyish smile tugs on his lips when he realizes that despite playing coy, you're receptive to his touch. He feels your breathing hitch when he came forwards, his nose brushing against yours as he waited for your reaction.

There. Gotcha.

The slightest twitch was enough of a sign for him to close the gap between your lips, mouth crashing over yours in all forms of desire. He was passionate, desparate even in the way his tongue delved into your mouth, needing you quite literally more than oxygen. His hands roam across your body, stroking and squeezing and crushing you agaisnt him, not knowing where to settle.

Mark's eyes stay wide open during the kiss, savouring every detail as if to commit it to memory. This, the real deal, is so much better than all those others he used to try and fill the void your absence has left in his soul.

His heart is practically clawing against his ribcage by now, subconscious screaming at him to never let anyone take you away from him again.

Not even yourself.

"Breaking news!" the volume of your TV that always ran in the background suddenly spiked up, and for the fraction of a second Mark's grip on you bordered on painful.

However it wasn't enough to keep you preoccupied, partially breaking the kiss to glance over to the screen...

...and what you saw made cold dread creep up your spine.

"Multiple superhumans all resembling Invincible are wreaking havoc in cities all around the world, overwhelming local and government forces. The police is advising everyone that if you come across one of those invididuals, do not approach them. They are dangerous and unpredictable. Remain hidden and report to local authori-"

It's him.

"They never get my good site" Mohawk's neck cracks as he moves his head from left to right, trying to relieve some stress of having been so rudely interrupted. He's not acknowledging your distress at all, instead looking straight ahead towards the footage of himself making the London Bridge collapse. "But hey, do you like what I've done to the place?"

You didn't even fully register what the news broadcaster had been explaining, and frankly it wouldn't be helpful either way - because at this moment, one of those villains destroying everything in their path was sitting right next to you.

"Please-"

"Relax, would you" he cuts you off both harshly and encouraging, draping an arm over your shoulder and letting out a content sigh. "If I wanted you dead, you'd already be. Okay, maybe that was the plan in the beginning" he chuckled gleeful, "but I changed my mind."

"Wha- how- who are you?" you whimmer only to be met with a smile so innocently, it bordered on pure madness.

"I'm Invicible, but..." he ponders, thoughtfully tapping his jaw. "...from an alternate universe, I guess? Never fully understood how this shit works."

You frown. "So what, you're just like some cheap, evil version of our Mark Grayson?"

"And- why are you at my house?" You have a distinct apprehension about his reasons.

"Oh, babydoll...so stubborn" he cockily corrects you, forcefully leading your hand to rest above his sternum. "I'm the upgrade."

"In my world we go way back, you know?" Mohawk holds your face with his free hand, pressing an absentminded kiss on your forehead. "The old story: Boy falls in love, girl breaks his heart, boy brutally murders girl..." he trails off, but the picture was clearly painted. "I came here to give you what you deserve."

"...and now?"

"Still do" he shrugs, a devilish glint in his eyes as he got an idea. "But I came to think that maybe you deserve something different..."

His words make you shiver, but he only laughs at your misery. "You're trembling. Cute. But I prefered you before. I like dominant women!"

When your eyes gloss in dread, Mohawk looked almost convincingly worried, hushing you while his lips erase the teardrops running down your cheeks. Delightful not only for him...

...because much to your horror, it was oddly comforting.

Out of a whim you get pulled onto his lap, unable to escape his suffocating proximity. You look at him with a mixture of fear and curiosity, which only spurs him to become bolder. He tugs on your towel so that it'd reveal what's beneath, shamelessly groaning at the sight.

"I wanted to hear you scream my name one last time..." he admitted, playfully wriggling his eyebrows. "But there's other ways to achieve that."

Mohawk leans in, the contrast of his hot breath against the chilling air rising goosebumps on your skin. You shiver, a strangled noise of approval vibrating in your throat when you feel his hands devote themselves to more sensitive parts of your body.

"Whaddaya say, sugar? I'll make it worth your while."

[militaryapple]

Thinking about how Caleb would react to you moving to your own room after sex when he falls asleep. He wakes up and sees you sleeping in your own room and not with him. him finding out (after basically interrogating her and asking non stop for days since she started distancing herself) mc gets really insecure after sex but she usually stays, just this time she got in her head too much and actually decided to leave 😭

he'd be so sweet :( oh he would shower u with so much love.. my sweet boy caleb aghhh hold me..

wc. 2.4k

was he the problem?

caleb looked at you, dumbfounded almost as he listened to your sweet confession. "i just.." you said softly, "its not you, caleb — just the way ive see other woman, how better looking they are, how you fit so well between them.." caleb could feel his body tense. how could you say such deprecating things about yourself? have you seen yourself? you were perfect to him. other woman didn't stand a chance.

he knew something was up with you. it was like this for a while now, how everytime you both finished having sex; he would fall asleep in your arms just to wake up to you gone. it made his heart drop. how he’d get up to look for you worried, just to find you asleep in your room. his chest heavy watching you curl in your own bed. at first; he thought maybe it was just uncomfortable for you, you two have always slept together but it was intimate and new — you just needed to readjust to it.

then it was again, and again, and again.

then, at some point you two had stopped. there was no intimacy, no sex, not even a glance of love. so.. he thought he was problem. he didn’t press the furthers, why should he? if he was the issue then he should fix it — and quick. after a while he had thought maybe he had became a better version of himself, he learned new recipes, did chores more often than he should’ve, even started to stay home more to stay next to you; ignoring his colonel duties. yet there was no avail.

he needed to ask you what the problem was.

so here you were, telling him everything. how you felt, how ashamed you were in your own skin. his heart ached for you, he could tell you a million times on how pretty you were, how everytime you spoke it seemed like you the sun, or how whenever you looked at him; it was full of pure love. caleb’s hands found their way to your skin, pulling you close.

his hands on the crown of your head before moving down, patting you. his other arm holding you closely — tightly. he wasn’t going to let you go, he couldn’t let you go. “i’m sorry,” he said softly placing a kiss on your head, his hand moving to your face lifting it so you could look at him. his movements with you were gentle, like you were delicate. “you’re so — where do i begin?” he let out a soft chuckle, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“first of all, your beauty is unmatched.” you stood, looking at him while his arms dropped away from you, both hands now cupping your face while he wiped away your tears through your occasional sniffling. “truly, it is. you are like heaven and earth combined, kissed by the gods themselves.” his kisses lowering down, now on your cheek. “your hair is pretty too, yeah baby? all the cute styles you do with it,” he hummed down, now kissing your ears. “how could i forget your lips? yeah? perfect. just for me to kiss.” his words were sweet, reassuring.

caleb kissed you, it wasn’t rushed. he didn’t hope for anything back, it was a kiss to make sure you knew that he loved you. to him you were a jewel; something he should put up to show the world that it’s his. you wrapped your arms around his neck, returning the kiss, your hands finding their way around his body. “ah-ah.” he said softly, pulling away. “we aren’t doing anything if you aren’t ready,” he placed a small kiss back on your forehead, his hands bringing your arm down before intertwining his hand into yours.

his hands moved up to his lips, turning over so he could kiss your hands. "you are perfect." he said softly, you looked up at him. his gaze meets yours. he was real. truthful. there was no hint of mockery or lies behind his beautiful eyes, it made your heart race. "then," you said, eyes moving away from his. "can we.. kiss?" your voice was low. embarrassed. maybe you were so shy because he was quick to take your breath, leaning in and holding you.

you were shy because he guided you to his bed, and laid you down trying his hardest to not separate your lips. you were shy about how between each breath, he made sure that he complimented you. each part of you, "your smile is beautiful," to "your hands are the perfect size to hold". caleb had your grinning ear to ear - making it feel as if it was both of your first times again.

you leaned into his touch, bringing you up and settling you on his lap on top of him. he loved having you in this position, how he could see your face so clearly, how you looked straight at him on his legs while he sat up on his headboard. you pulled away making caleb look at you. "caleb, i really want to," you place your hand on his shirt, pressing down on his body.

fuck you were so sweet for him, you really were. he couldn't help but hold your hand, using his free one to cup your cheek. "you sure?' he looked at you like you were going to break. he was so kind with you, "I don't want to.. just for you to leave me." his eyes fluttered away from you, his cheeks and ears turning red. "at least let me show you how much you mean to me, please? let me love you - worship you." he kissed you again before pulling away.

you couldn't say no, he was like a puppy in love.

it wasn't long until caleb was back to kissing you, his kisses starting at your head, moving down to your cheeks. every time he pulled away he would whisper sweet nothing's to you - making sure you knew that he adored you. you were a woman kissed by the gods themselves and send down to him. how could you feel so bad about yourself when you were so perfect? those women you envy had nothing against you. they were mere peasants compared to you, a princess in all her glory.

you whined, the feeling of his kisses tickling your chin as he continued to press them against you, his hands moving towards your stomach as he lifted your shirt to rub small circles around your stomach, you were quick to move away from him, pulling your shirt down and looking away from him. ah. right, your body. caleb's brows furrowed before leaning close to you. "I love your stomach," he hummed "how easy it is to hold you," he kissed your cheek, your once stilled body leaning closer to him. he took it as a sign to slowly - make his way to your hips.

“how i can kiss it,” you didn’t react to his touch, letting out a small ‘mm,’ in resistance but he stayed firm. he knew you weren’t going to go anywhere this time. “how i can feel you.” his mouth made its way to your lips and you returned the kiss. he carefully touched your stomach, watching your every move. you seemed more comfortable, so he pushed himself a little farther. his hands traced down to your thigh, rubbing it slowly. "caleb," was what you muttered out. oh you sounded so pretty, his name falling from your lips were music to his ears. "what is it baby?" he murmured, his hands rubbing the inside of your thing. "so soft, you know.. i imagine my cock between your thighs, they're so pretty. i cant help but think about how i'll pump into them," his kiss lowering to your neck. you whined at the confession he made, holding to his neck.

his hands slid closer to your cunt, his fingers pressing soft against the fabric of your panties while you moan softly. "yeah? you like when I press riiiight here?" he was precise, his fingers pressing down on your sensitive nub making you twitch in return. you let out a moan, his mouth reaching yours. your kisses now sloppy, messy. "there you go pretty baby, let me make you feel good, let me love you." his breaths turning into moans — feeding into you.

you could only nod, your eyes fighting to stay open. your hips rolling at the feeling of his fingers that rubbed and tickled your nub. caleb’s fingers moved to your panties, pulling on the waistline before down to your cunt. “look at you, so wet. it’s so cute, already eager.” he kissed your cheek, his mouth maneuvering to your ear as he whispered. “deep breath for me baby ‘just wanna make you feel good. okay?” you listened — and before you knew it he slid a digit in your cunt.

he pumped you agonizingly slow, watching your cunt suck him in knuckles deep. you were gorgeous, your moans to your eyes. your flushed face and how you looked at him like he was everything. “you look so pretty like this,” he hummed, his fingers quickening at the sound of your moans before sliding another digit in you. “i can stare at you like this for hours — stare at your gorgeous body.” his free hand sliding up your shirt, cupping your tits while he fondled you.

“so soft” he purred, his mouth now mouthing to your jawline, his fingers both touching and fucking you. you cried holding on to his arm while your legs closed tightly together. that didn’t stop caleb from going faster. his fingers reaching deep into you — making you feel him. “i love you,” he whined, his eyes glossy while looking at you. god, you haven’t done anything to him yet he looks like he’s about to cum. “i love you, everything about you, i want you, i need you.” you fall back on the bed, moaning while you clenched against the feeling of his fingers.

“come on pips, cum for me yeah? you can do it pretty girl,” the words sending a shiver down your spine, your hips rolling at the rhythm his hands rubbed you. it wasn't until a minute later you were babbling sweet nothings, clutching on the sheets of his bed while you moaned out his name. you were pretty little thing. Caleb moved his hand away from your tit, and slipped his fingers away from your pussy. he leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "you're doing so well for me, yeah pretty baby? you wanna stop here? i'll run a bath and wash you.." he was cut short quickly, your hand tugging on his arm.

"please," you whined out softly, your hands twitching while you looked into his eyes. he couldn't say no to you, after all you were his prized possession. caleb was quick to tug on his pants, pulling them down and his waist line, his cock pretty - leaking precum while he stared down at you. he lined himself up with your cunt, sliding his tip between your folds. "oh fuck baby," he gasped, eyes fluttering while one of his hands grabbed your arms, holding them down - the other exploring your body.

"I wish you could see just how beautiful you look," he whimpered, "how - mphgh, how good you are for me." his hips thrusted between your cunt, your juices coating him while he let out soft moans and whimpers. "oh god - baby you're perfect, so perfect I love you," he was about to sob with how good you felt. with calebs free arm he held on your hips, his hands memorizing every curve of your body. "just so gorgeous," he groaned.

you sobbed, "please, you're teasing me I can't - I want you." that was all he needed to hear before his cock was shoved deep into you. you groaned, trying to wiggle, yet caleb kept you firm. "fuck, look at you - taking me so nicely." his hips rocking into you slowly, then picking up a pace. you could only cry at the feeling, overwhelming and so fucking good. Caleb moved his hand from your hip to your nub, rubbing in circles. your legs shook before locking around his hips.

god. you were beautiful, no matter how many times he had told you. you were still so gorgeous, he loved seeing you this way. how you moaned for him, and how you held on to him so greedily. he loved feeling you - seeing you. hearing you while he fucked so deeply into your cunt. his hips started to snap against you, making your eyes roll back in response. you were drunk off him, how good he felt inside you.

you hips bucked, rolling at the feeling of him, "m close, please baby," you moaned. caleb could only shudder, his fingers rubbing against you. faster. harder. “yeah baby? come on, cum for me, wanna see your pretty lil face.” he hiccups, his pace destroying you. you couldn’t help but jolt at the feeling. you clenched around his cock, making him moan in response. you couldn’t take it anymore, your hips rolled against his, your legs shaking as you groan. it was bliss — while caleb kept his pace until he couldn’t his hips slamming into yours while he moaned. “fuck, my pretty girl oh my pretty little lady.”

caleb was quick to take care of you, taking you to the bathroom and washing both you and your hair, clothing you and feeding you a quick meal. he even set you down in his bed with fresh new sheets you didn’t even know he replaced. it was time for you both to finally get some shut eye.

caleb laid you down, then lying down next to you. he faced you, holding on to your sides as he rubbed your back under your shirt holding you close. ah, yet you couldn’t help but think about the sex. was he truthful? was he just calling you pretty, or his or gorgeous just because it was the super of the moment? your mind lingered, until caleb placed a small kiss on the crown of your head.

“i’m staying up until you fall asleep,” he hummed. you couldn’t respond. you knew why, he didn’t want you to leave again. not to run away and cry in your bed; calling yourself names that were untrue. “instead,” he said “i’ll spend the entire night telling you more things i love about you. just until i hear that you’re sleep,” his voce was soft. he was gentle. your arms wrapped around him, your face nuzzling itself in his chest while he began to whisper sweet words in your ear.

oh how he loved you. :(

[yukioos]

Hii! Could we have a cute comfort fic where reader and bakugo are dating, and she starts feeling insecure in the relationship (such as him leaving her or getting cheated on) but he reassures her that shes the only one he wants and has eyes for 🥰 just a lil cutie

Song- sunflower by post malone

when you feel insecure in your and katsuki’s relationship

katsuki had appeared more irritable in the past few weeks, especially to you. unfortunately, you had no idea why, and were too shy to confront him about it. he started holding doors open a second less than how he normally did, and didn’t look at you as often as he normally did.

that enough was clearly a sign. you were still stuck in limbo, as you were timid and nervous to ask him about his actions, or even if he was still romantically interested in you. did he really find someone else to replace you? were you not good enough?

eventually, you didn’t interact with him as much, as you almost gave up with your relationship, but katsuki noticed how differently you’ve been acting. you were more distant, maybe even more self-conscious.

but he was fed up with it. you hardly even glanced at him, and avoided him rather than leaning to him. clearly, something was occurring in your mind, and he needed to deal with it quickly.

you lay on your bedroom, curled up into your soft and comfy bed. you randomly got a text, which distracted you from the series you were watching. eyes pulled away from the screen, your screen lit up with katsuki’s contact name and a notification.

‘im not letting you ignore me anymore. i’m coming to your dorm, we need to talk.’

he was going to break up with you, wasn’t he? maybe now you would find out if he found a different woman, or if he just became bored of you. were you not interesting anymore?

a fist strongly knocked on the door before it automatically opened. your boyfriend’s spiky blonde hair poked out from the crack of the door, and he peeked in with soft yet hard eyes.

he closed the door behind you and stared at your body lying on your bed, eyes tired. you looked so exhausted. was something or someone physically or mentally tiring you out? he hadn’t looked closely into your eyes for a while, but now he felt guilty.

when he locked the door behind him, you felt uneasy. he put his hands in his pockets and asked, “why have you been acting weird?” straight to the point.

you retorted, “i’m not acting weird—“

“yes you are. you have something on your mind, so you better spit it out.” he tried to remain calm with you, giving you a sense of safety.

you hesitated, averting your eyes from his harsh but loving gaze, and instead focused them on your dresser. you replied, “you haven’t been spending a lot of time with me, and you’re not holding doors open for me as long as you normally do. you hardly even look at me, even during class.” you paused, “do you love someone else?”

katsuki’s heart stopped, and his eyes widened. his face relaxed, but he noticed your eyes were teary. he needed time to think about how to respond. of course, he still loved you, but why would you doubt it? why would you doubt him?

he stated, “i don’t love anyone else.” he paused, “the reason why i may have seemed unfocused is because i don’t know what to get you for your birthday. it was supposed to be a surprise, but i think you should know since you’re stressing about it.” he mumbled the last part, feeling as if the words were too intimate.

you muttered an, “oh, i didn’t know that katsuki.” well, at least you knew not to be so worried anymore! “‘m sorry for worrying you.”

he jumped into your bed and threw his shirt onto the ground, tucked himself into your bed, and laid behind you. he wrapped his arms around your waist and placed his face in the crook of your neck. your boyfriend shook his head, “stop apologizing, idiot. you didn’t do anything wrong.”

you nodded and placed your hand on his large bicep, which wrapped around your waist. you pressed your body closer to his, wanting proximity. smiling, you felt much better after talking to katsuki. maybe you should’ve confronted him faster. he didn’t even seem bothered by what you were worrying about!

he was the best boyfriend ever.

this request was so cute! hope u like it!

[vividly-vermillion]

✴︎ CAUGHT RED HANDED PART 3

જ⁀➴ The LADS guys catch you masturbating.

ﾉ including: Rafayel

ﾉ cw: afab!reader, no pronouns, masturbation, phone sex if you will, hinted to more happening

ﾉ wordcount: 0.9k

ﾉ info: I need that fishstick badly someone swaddle me in a blanket please ﾉ Requests are open!

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT IN COMMENTS & REBLOGS!

-> Xavier | -> Zayne | -> Sylus (coming soon)

✶࿐ Rafayel

♡ You planned on going to Rafayel’s place later that day since he said he'd be busy until the afternoon doing who knows what.

♡ Your day on the other hand looked kind of bland, nothing in your calendar except going to Rafayel - a nice and lazy day off in other words.

♡ After cleaning your apartment and taking a shower the boredom started to hit you and your hands wandered faster than your mind.

♡ You bit your lip when your hand started sneaking beneath the fabric of your shirt, gently pinching and rolling your nipples until they were stiff and sensitive to touch.

♡ The dampness in your panties was evident long before you hooked your fingers into the waistband of them to tug them down your legs.

♡ Today was calm, nothing on your schedule and you decided to treat yourself nice and slow, gentle and teasing touches to get you wet and desperate for release.

♡ When your touches weren't enough anymore, you reached into the drawer of your bedside table, getting your favorite vibe out to help you find release

♡ The soft buzzing against your clit left you a moaning mess, whines, gasps and messy moans of his name

♡ Rafayel... little did you know that your phone picked up his name one too many times, his name showing up on your screen but you didn't see - couldn't see with the way your eyes screwed shut in pleasure

♡ Rafayel almost dropped his phone into the water of his mid day bath, getting a small heart attack from the sudden call

♡ "Can't you text me first? What if I fell and broke my ankle... again?" He exaggerated dramatically once he picked up but in reality he was glad you were thinking about him

♡ When he didn't hear anything back from you he started to get worried

♡ "Helloo? Did you forget that you need to speak when you call someone?" He asked and huffed out some air when he suddenly heard your sweet moan.

♡ The breath got knocked out of his lungs and his phone did fall into the tub this time, simply slipping from his grip. His concern wasn't the phone - it was waterproof anyways.

♡ His concern was missing another moan of his name followed by the low buzzing of what he assumed to be a vibrator.

♡ If anyone would see him right now, he would blame the blush on his cheeks on the hot water but the way you sounded while touching yourself really took him off guard.

♡ He knew he should hang up, knowing you didn't call him on purpose and he was breaching your privacy right now... but was he really? He was all what you were thinking about after all.

♡ His cock was rock hard from your sounds and he could picture how you must lay on your bed right now, clothes discarded and how pretty you must look right now with your skin glowing so beautifully.

♡ "fuck..." he grunted softly when his hand wrapped around his shaft to give it a few tentative tugs before settling for a slow speed to match your moans.

♡ Rafayel was completely enthralled in your moans, his own whines and moaned words mixing with yours and painting pictures in his head.

♡ Just as you came with a cry of his name, the buzzing getting stronger almost had him losing his mind entirely.

♡ "yes! Just like that... ngh... don't stop, cutie" he moaned, his voice cracking at his nickname for you, so so close to his own release as your last moan echoed in his head.

♡ "RafaYEL??" You almost squeaked out when you heard his voice muffled through your phone, followed by soft moans.

♡ Rafayels eyes widened when he heard his name like this but it was too late - his orgasm washing over him and he couldn't even hold the moan inside.

♡ You should have hung up but his moan sounded so desperate for you, a slight whimper following and you wished that a sound could get engraved inside your brain to play it over and over again.

♡ Once Rafayel caught himself from the pleasure and the shock that followed he wanted to hang up, pretend like it never happened but he knew that you'd come over later that day. And there's no way that he could keep his hands from you now that he knew that you were thinking about him too.

♡ "You called... it would have been rude to ignore your call... you could have been in danger," he mused and you saw the blush on his cheeks through the phone, that pretty shade of red you've grown to love.

♡ "I think you should come over sooner," he added eventually when he was met with silence on your end.

♡ The vibrator was still buzzing somewhere in the sheets but you paid it no mind once the bold words entered your ears.

♡ "weren't you busy all day?" You asked as you sat up against the headboard, slowly realizing that Rafayel got off to you touching yourself.

♡ "Well I am! Taking a bath and all that..." he tried to protest but heard your soft laugh at the other end

♡ "Think your bathtub is big enough for two?"

[plethorawrites]

I just keep thinking about Jason Todd who is terrified of commitment because he thinks everyone will leave him, finally finding someone who will stay. And how he'd sometimes wake up in the middle of the night or come home from work and feel himself relax with you in his sights and even more so in his arms.

He'd think back to lonely nights in a damp, cold safehouse, where the only sounds were the pipes dripping and only light was from his computer. Then compare it to now, where the loudest sound was your breathing, and the brightest light was the moon shining through the window because he'd finally stopped locking himself in a basement.

The place didn't smell of dirt or old takeout food, it smelled of cinnamon and your shampoo.

He wasn't going straight for his desk, still wearing his kevlar and boots, he was pulling them off the second he was home so he could crawl straight into bed with you. He wasn't sleeping with one, tattered blanket, that had holes from how hard he gripped it during nightmares.

He was sleeping while holding you, nuzzling his face against your neck, which made the nightmares fade or at least lessen. Laying there, comparing his past to his future he breathed without fear of anything aside from losing you.

He didn't know what would happen, but he knew for now, you were in his arms and he didn't need to hate his past or fear his future.

He just needed to hold you and breathe.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Okay okay but like, how do you feel about Mark x William x Reader? How do you think that’d be, Gator? 👀🙏

Mark Grayson x William Clockwell x Viltrumite male reader 

Headcanons 

Reader is a fellow viltrumite, cuz I had a request asking for William x viltrumite reader but it's just... gone, I can't find it in my inbox, but I know it was there. So, enjoy. 

Make reader the son of Thragg, just for angst and power purposes. Maybe he's a bit rebellious, by viltrumite standards. But its entertaining, so Thragg lets him live and grow up. Also, cuz reader is clearly the strongest offspring he's sired. 

Reader is older than Ursaal and Onaan, but not old enough to stay getting wrinkles and all that. 

Maybe this rebellious nature makes him go to earth, because “stop trying to control my life dad” that people go through.  

Earth is supposed to have been colonized or whatever, so Thragg just lets him. Plus, readers one of the strongest viltrumites and the strong can do whatever they want, ya know? 

I feel this would take place sometime after season one, but before everything started truly going insane. Or more insane than Nolan killing the guardians and all that. 

So, William and Mark are in college together, they are roommates. Mark wouldn't be with Amber anymore, or their relationship isn't really going anywhere. And William wouldn't be with Rick. 

I like to think the reader is smart enough to hide his viltrumite affiliation when he gets to earth. Plus, he's rebellious and it's not like his dad is here, so he shaves his moustache and he steals some clothes somewhere out in the galaxy. 

How the reader gets to earth and meets them for the first time is up in the air. It could be many ways, but at this point the GDA aren't as extreme as they become later on, and Mark is still on good terms with them. 

It probably becomes a deal that Mark has to keep an eye on you, since you are some great unknown and you are clearly strong. They have no idea how strong, but you aren't breaking a sweat when you help out doing hero work. 

You may be your father's favorite child, but you also know what it's like to suffer under his fist. To mold you into the kind of warrior he wants you to be, his eyes shining with pride when you always survive and come back stronger. 

The memory makes you sick, always has. Like something inside you always knew it was wrong and disgusting, what the viltrumites were doing. But when it's all you have ever known, then you just go along with it. 

Earth is a breath of fresh air, and though Mark is very wary of you, he still introduces you to how things work around here. 

And yeah, Mark may be a half-breed, but he is still attractive, in his own weird way. Hes not strong, at least he is nothing impressive, but he never backs down. Its admirable somehow. 

He makes you feel warm inside in a way you aren't used too. You care for your younger siblings in some kind of way, like, you don't want them to die, but you also wouldn't die for them. 

What you start feeling for Mark is stranger, warmer and passionate. It makes you angry and annoyed because it feels like a weakness. 

During this time, Mark would also have broken up with Amber if they hadn't already. Insert him having a whole gay/bi awakening because holy shit... he's feeling stuff for you of all people. 

When he has a conversation with William about his panic, it also clicks that what he feels for you, Mark also feels for William. He gets really awkward for a while, and William knows him enough to know something is up. 

Honestly, I think William and Mark would get together first. Like Mark would be pacing the room, flushed in the face, rambling about you, but then end up talking about William. 

William, who I believe has always had a bit of a torch for Mark would be stunned, but also knows he needs to act now before Mark loses all confidence. So, the two kiss, and end up fumbling through confessions and feelings and all that. 

Insert them falling back on one of their beds and just making out, touching and groping. They don't go further than that, Mark isn't ready, but afterwards William would joke about needing to meet you too. 

Meeting you would be an accident, throwing all their plans into the trash. Some villain shows up, and you end up saving William's life before Mark even gets to change and arrive as invincible. 

Insert William looking reader up and down and going “I see what you mean” to Mark. 

Imagine that you can smell that William and Marks are connected so you compliment mark on his “worthy choice of a mate”. It feels like a compliment even when worded like that, so they both feel a little flushed about it. 

In some way, you end up spending a lot more time with Mark and William, even outside of costume. I don't see you applying for college or anything, since you don't have a legal identity, but you spend time with them on the regular. 

When William starts making you feel all kinds of feelings in your chest, you want to go punch something or someone again. It feels like a massive weakness and you don't like it. 

Yalls confessions for each other would start because you accuse them of doing something to you, like poisoning you.  

You are about ready to kill them for this perceived threat, but also because you don't like feeling something so new and strange, it's scary. 

Then William would try to rationalize it and have you explain what they've done, and so starts you spilling all these strange weird feelings they make you feel. How they make your heart race, your hands clammy, how you feel unsteady even why you fly. It has to be a personal attack, right? 

Even as you get more worked up about it, Mark and William just start smiling and flushing, because it's so endearing to see you pace and try to understand all this. It also means a lot that you feel the same that they do. 

Just insert Mark going “hey, dude” and stopping your angry pacing with a hand on your shoulder. When you turn to glare at Mark, William would jump up and kiss your cheek and be all like “what you're feeling isn't poison, stupid. Its feelings. You know, the ones in there?” and poke your chest. 

You end up needing them to explain this whole dating culture on earth, what you are feeling, why it's okay, and that yes, they feel the same. Then you also get the conversation about descrimination, because they both know what will happen when they are open about the relationship. 

This results in them having to stop you from flying out and threatening the entire world with destruction if they don't accept lgbt+ and other minorities. William would say something like “we appreciate it big guy, but let's not destroy the planet, okay?” and kiss the readers chin. 

A relationship with those two can be a bit wild sometimes. There might also be some insecurity in the reader of not fitting their dynamic, since they've been friends for so long. 

Your sweet boyfriends, as earth don't call it mates, are just... so soft and kind. It makes your teeth ache sometimes. 

Like when Mark arrives with flowers for both you and William, or when he somehow shapes a cloud into a heart when you guys go patrolling. 

William is so affectionate in a way you aren't used too. You were left speechless when he shoves you down on the bed and straddles you, a smirk on his face as he gets comfortable. 

All the kissing has also left you reeling. They do it all the time, they run their tongues together for fun, and not for battle. They have to teach you how to kiss, because “as much as I love being devoured, this is too much babe” 

When the time comes when your father sends Anissa, you chase her off by force. When its Conquest, you are able to keep up with him and stake claim on this planet. 

And when the time comes to battle your father, because that time will come, you are ready to die for your beloveds.  

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 APPLE CIDER huh yunjin x reader

❀ ͘ ⴰ “and even if we’re just friends, we could be more than that”

↳ YUNJIN & HER SOLOIST GF 🍓

  ۫ • when yunjin started training again there was this one artist that she listened to that just always seemed to get her through tough times.

  ۫ • yn was her name, a rookie and she just had this angst but soft vibe to her that anyone could listen to if they wanted to be peaceful or just scream their lungs out and that’s exactly the type of music yunjin needed during that time.

  ۫ •  she found her so unique for some reason she was in the industry but she was like her own category. she was under a big company that didn’t produce the type of music she makes, she didn’t dance and she kind of just put out whatever she wanted.

  ۫ • she was also kinda cute.

  ۫ • yunjin carried her love for the artist through training, preparing for debut, listening to her an hour before lesserafim’s debut stage to calm her nerves to talking about yn during her first live alone a couple months after debut.

  ۫ • “my favourite artist?” yunjin read the comment aloud, swaying slightly to the sound of yn’s voice playing in the background. “hmm… I’ll give you a hint she’s playing right now.” she smiled as the chat sped up, comments flooding in. “I love yn so much. her music has gotten me through a lot, she’s so talented.” she tucked a strand of hair out of her face, eyes softening. “I still can’t believe she’s a couple years younger than me… she’s so talented. should I sing on of her songs?”

  ۫ • yunjin didn’t think much of it after the live, it wasn’t until deep in the night her phone started blowing with messages from her friends nearly giving her a heart attack.

  ۫ • “omg yn mentioned you on her live” “ouuuu guess who just mentioned you” “you’re gonna freak out.”

  ۫ • first of all how did she miss yn’s live? (yn never goes live so both yunjin and yn stans are on their knees begging her to go live everyday) and second of all HUH???

  ۫ • she immediately opens twitter and luckily it’s the first thing she sees.

  ۫ • OMG yn mentioned yunjin on her live today my sserayn crumbs.

  ۫ • “I don’t know, guys, attack me all you want, but milkis over banana milk any day,” yn said, spinning lazily in her chair. she slowed to a stop, eyes flicking to the chat. “did you see lesserafim’s yunjin’s live today? she mentioned you—yes! yeah, I did,” she nodded, lips curling into a small smile. “she’s a pretty cool girl. I’m really flattered that she’s a fan. I really liked lesserafim’s debut, so I guess me and her have something in common. when they get a fandom name, let me know.” she leaned forward slightly, about to move on before gasping. “oh! and her cover! it was so good, I love her voice—like, let’s make a song together at this point.”

  ۫ • yunjin nearly screamed so loud the whole dorm would’ve woken up.

  ۫ • yn knew who she was…yn wanted to make a song with her

۫ • yunjin stared at her phone, debating for a solid five minutes before opening yn’s instagram and hovering over the dm button.

۫ • after another minute of staring, she finally typed, "so… about that song?" and hit send before she could second guess herself.

۫ • she immediately threw her phone across the bed, heart pounding. she did not just do that.

۫ • except she did. and when her phone buzzed a few minutes later, she swore her soul left her body.

۫ • yn: oh? you actually wanna do it?🤭 ۫ • yunjin: um YES??? ۫ • yn: [a funny picture that only showed her forehead in a dark] . let’s make it happen.

۫ • and just like that, they started texting back and forth, going from talking about music to random late night conversations about their favorite snacks, childhood stories, and the most unhinged videos they cound find.

۫ • by the time they met up in the studio, it was like they’d known each other forever.

۫ • and at the end of the year, they actually released a song together, fans loved the sound of yunjin’s voice on a song that was more yn’s vibe and just the overall chemistry that yn and yunjin had.

۫ • and a behind the scenes vlogs had fans convinced there was something more going on.

۫ • yunjin was crushing. hard. but she kept it cool… until she didn’t.

۫ • one night, after another long texting session, she found herself typing, "so, are we gonna keep making music or do I get to take you on a date too?"

۫ • yn: that was really smooth dude. ۫ • yunjin:… is that you saying yes? ۫ • yn: maybe… depends on if it’s a sushi place if it is then yes

[sunnie-angel]

Um hello?????? This was so good and there’s going to be more at some point? July is an amazing messenger for this story and I’m so here for it. The yearning is so real.

He kissed her a little, tried to do what he was supposed to; put his hands on her waist, maintaining a respectable distance from too high or too low. But it felt…off, somehow.

I’m so emotional over this. He’s doing what he’s supposed to even though it doesn’t feel right and it makes him think that he can never have this now.

working himself to the bone as the Red Hood so he wouldn’t have time to reflect on who he was as Jason.

Insane over this part!!!! There’s a separation between the mask and the man and he’s leaning on the mask because he finds the man wanting.

He needs time to think. To lie down in his old bed, stare at the ceiling, and think about if he’ll ever see you again.

Yearner Jason Todd confirmed.

“That’s…uh…” Dick clears his throat again. Then again. “That’s great, Jason,” he says, at last regaining his composure.

Dick is the unexpected VIP of this fic, I love how you write him here

Dick has to quiet the extremely loud sirens going off in his head when he (albeit incorrectly) has the realization that his baby brother, the one he still sees as four feet tall, swinging his little legs off the kitchen island and covered in cookie crumbs is, in fact, having sex. 

Cackling at Dick losing his mind and simultaneously trying to keep it together. Yes his little brother is all grown up! But also it’s not at all what he thinks it is.

Jason can’t imagine you’d be welcoming, either, after the way he left two nights ago. He watched you splash your face with cool water, leaving him with a shaky, watery smile, then listened to you putter around the kitchen with the promise of tea for the both of you.

The little details make this so heartbreaking.

He climbed out of your bedroom window, like a coward. In his haste, he left those bloodstains he promised he would clean.

!!!!!!! Jason I’m pretty sure she cared way more about you yeeting yourself out of the window while injured and ghosting her than the stained sheets.

“You’re, uh…using protection, right?”

Dick is trying so hard to be a good big brother but also I am dying from the awkwardness. So is Jason.

You’re mad at yourself for being so stupid as to break down in front of him. It’s no fucking wonder he ran out the first chance he got.

Nooooo!!!!! I knew that bit of vulnerability was gonna come back to bite the both of them.

In the days following, the book sat there, practically taunting you until you turned it face-down so the sight of the star-constellated cover would stop making your stomach twist over in nausea. Nausea at the memory of how eager you were to pick it up at the library mere days after he had mentioned it, how you buzzed with excitement, and maybe something deeper, when you came home at night ready to snuggle into the couch with a blanket and your favorite mug to read the next chapter.

1) is this based on a real book? 2) Love the zoom in on the little details in the face of everything else. Reader’s brain/emotions can’t deal with the enormity of everything so it focuses on the little parts it can handle.

That their love was doomed from the start because, inevitably, he will have to leave her, and he has known the entire time that he would have to leave. That he loved her with one foot out the door.

Ohhhhhhh I love the parallel to Reader/Jason and the book couple. Now I really am wondering if this was based on a real book.

You hoped not; no one else needed to know him the way you did.

Let’s go possessive reader!!!!!!!

Ten days after that night, that book is one week past its due date when you muster up the will to take it back to the Gotham Public Library.

This is such a creative idea to get them back together but it also is so heartbreaking.

It would be another two months before you saw him again.

TWO MONTHS?????? Oh the angst is going to be off the wall. I can’t wait to see where you go with this!

love in withdrawal

true that love in withdrawal was the weeping of me, that the sound of the saw must be known by the tree.

or; in the aftermath of that night, you're both wracked with regret, wishing it went differently. [3.3k]

jason todd x fem!reader; warnings from pt1 also apply; typical jason-angst (so ptsd, self-image/hatred, family issues, etc) + virgin!jason YOU ALR KNOW THE VIBESSSS😝😝😝👹👹 previous: you're good to me, baby

Jason Todd has tried very hard to be normal. At least, as normal as he can get. After returning to his home city and settling into his role as the Red Hood, crime lord and resident anti-hero of Gotham, he really did try. He went out with his 'coworkers' to have a good time. He spoke to his neighbors, hoping some friendship would stick. He went to a seedy bar with Roy and stuttered through some flirting with the girl who eye-fucked him from across the bar for fifteen minutes. With Roy’s encouragement (read: peer pressure), he followed her out to the alley behind the bar. He kissed her a little, tried to do what he was supposed to; put his hands on her waist, maintaining a respectable distance from too high or too low. But it felt…off, somehow. His heightened senses made the way she trailed one finger up and down the muscles of his arm feel prickly, the scars under his sleeve sensitive and itching at her touch. Her lips were too sticky with gloss, and its saccharine watermelon flavor lingered on his teeth for days. No matter how hard he scrubbed at them.

Roy hadn’t let him live that down for months. His recounting of Jason leaving her in the bar when she invited him home, looking ‘scared shitless and fumbling hard’ was an exaggeration, but maybe not that far off. Looking back, he wasn’t sure what he expected; he could barely look his own family in the eye. How did he think he’d be able to keep it together around a pretty girl? He was quick to give up any hopes of being ‘normal’ after that.

He lived like that for a while; putting all his energy into keeping the city safe, working himself to the bone as the Red Hood so he wouldn’t have time to reflect on who he was as Jason. He fixed things with his family just enough to have a place to go every other weekend to “upgrade his gear.” When he stuck around long enough that it was ‘only convenient’ to stay for dinner, no one commented on it. He’d accepted that this was his life now.

He never meant for things to go this far with you. Honestly. He was just doing his job when he gave you a ride home after you sprained your ankle trying to fight off that mugger. When he had to hold your weight so you could walk up the stairs to your apartment, he was still just doing his job. And when you, still in shock and heart pumping with adrenaline, put your frantic energy into nervous ramblings and fretting over his bruises— making sure you were okay before he left was part of his job. But one visit to your apartment turned into two, and two turned into three, each under the guise of ‘checking on your ankle’ or ‘being on his route’. Somewhere along the line your arrangement came to be: he stopped by with wounds needing to be treated, you treated them, and then he’d leave. And if you wanted to make some small conversation, getting to know each other a little more with every visit, that was harmless. Seeking you out for the smallest injuries that he was fully capable of dealing with himself was harmless. Holding you in his arms while you clutched onto him for dear life and sobbed into his shirt, neglecting his knife wound for far too long in favor of wiping away your tears—

He never meant for things to go this far.

Two days after that night, Jason is still reeling. In hindsight, letting the slice on his arm sit in the open, stale air for as long as it did was not the best idea. Sewing it closed one-handed so as to relieve the burden from your shoulders, taking no care to sterilize the instruments that fell to the floor in his hurry to follow the alarm bells in his head that screamed go! Get out and go! was a horrible idea. Sure, having you kneeled in his lap, pressed against him for the better part of the thirty minutes he spent at your place wasn’t exactly a regret. But was it worth the round of antibiotics and week-long benching ordered by Bruce after he stumbled into the Batcave an hour ago, hastily stitched up by his own hand and running a fever? He can’t decide. Was it worth the consequence of his siblings taking turns covering the patrol route of his city sector during his absence? Definitely not.

Was it worth the sight of you looking up at him, watery-eyed with flushed cheeks and fluttering eyelashes accentuated by the shine of your tears? The feeling of your hand sliding over his chest?

Maybe.

Maybe he could use the time off, as pointed out by a sneering Timothy, considering he was so stupid as to let his wound fester to the point of infection. He’d be too distracted to give the city his full attention, anyway. He needs time to think. To lie down in his old bed, stare at the ceiling, and think about if he’ll ever see you again.

Tim’s comment earns him a smack to the back of the head from Dick, who promptly kicks Tim out of the room.

“How are you feeling?” Dick stands at Jason’s bedside, arms crossed in concern.

“Same as when you asked me five minutes ago.” Jason wheezes. His pit-enhanced immunity makes the infection symptoms much easier than they could have been, but Bruce still insisted on him staying the whole week for observation. With how much he’s grown since he last used it, his childhood room feels much smaller than he remembers.

“Yeah, but…” Dick narrows his eyes at Jason. His gaze flits to his arm, wrapped in fresh bandages with an ice pack pressed over the stitches. “How…are you?”

“The same as…before,” Jason says, mimicking his brother’s cadence.

Dick sighs, thinking over his next move. He walks to the door, closes it, and pulls Jason’s desk chair to the bedside and sits down.

Jason groans. “Do you really have to—”

“Just humor me,” Dick interrupts. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. He takes Jason’s silence as resignation. “Did something happen?”

Jason rolls his eyes. “I got stabbed, Dick.”

“Is that all?” There’s a lilt in Dick’s voice.

“What are you implying?” Jason shoots back, though his hoarse throat negates his attempt to sound intimidating.

“Nothing! I’m not implying anything!” Dick leans back in his chair, holding his palms up in surrender. “I’m just saying. You seem…bothered. By something.”

“Yeah, the stab wound.”

“Okay. Okay, fine.” Dick clears his throat. “If there’s nothing.” He stands, returning the chair to its place. As he’s leaving, though, his hand settled on the doorknob, he hears a rustle of fabric and turns back to Jason. He’s shifting around in his old bed, awkwardly pulling at the comforter and he moves to sit on the edge, staring hard at the red pattern of the blanket while opening and closing his mouth, battling with himself on whether or not he should speak. Dick waits, giving him the time to work it out.

“I think I…” Jason says finally, not looking up from his lap. “I messed up.” He looks very uncomfortable. If opening up wasn’t such a rare occurrence for him, Dick might have found humor in his brother’s embarrassment.

Dick lets go of the doorknob, but doesn’t dare move closer. He knows that Jason’s fight or flight instincts will take hold the second he feels too caged in. “Messed up how?” He asks, keeping his tone even and unemotional.

“With…someone.” Jason forces out the words, cheeks burning as bright as his bedspread. He still refuses to look at Dick, but at the surprised, choked-back sound he makes at the admission, Jason’s face snaps up to his. Dick is disguising his shock as a cough into his fist, but his wide eyes are unmistakable, even behind the curtain of thick hair falling over his eyes.

“That’s…uh…” Dick clears his throat again. Then again. “That’s great, Jason,” he says, at last regaining his composure.

“Is it?” Jason says, squinting at his brother.

“No, I mean—not that you—” Dick sighs, running a hand down his face and deciding to abandon that train of thought altogether. “What happened?”

“I sort of…left. Abruptly.” Jason rubs at the growing stubble on his jaw. “Like— like after…” He trails off, hoping Dick will get the idea.

Dick has to quiet the extremely loud sirens going off in his head when he (albeit incorrectly) has the realization that his baby brother, the one he still sees as four feet tall, swinging his little legs off the kitchen island and covered in cookie crumbs is, in fact, having sex. 

“Is it serious?” He asks through a stiff smile.

Jason, ever oblivious to the silent breakdown his brother is having at the door, is not sure if he’d describe what you two have as serious. He knows you fairly well, knows what you do from the nights you talk about what’s going on at work; what you like from the posters and trinkets you have hung up around your place. And yeah, you talk sometimes. He may not speak that much around you, and it’s usually just frustrated complaints about the other bats, but it’s certainly more than he speaks to most people outside his family. And he sees you more often than he does most people outside his family. And he feels more comfortable with you than—

“Jason,” Dick calls, pulling him from his thoughts. “Is it serious?” He asks again, though there’s a quirk in his brow that suggests he already knows the answer.

“I don’t know,” is what Jason settles on.

“When did this happen?”

“Uh, a few days ago?” Jason says, even though he knows that’s a lie. It was 45 hours and 26 minutes ago, to be precise, but he doesn’t say that. He’s not sure how it would be received.

“You can’t go back? Just try to apologize?”

He wants to see you again, but he can’t. Doing so in the first place only put you in danger, and he was an idiot for ignoring that. If the wrong person had seen the Red Hood making consistent visits to the same window of the same building? His stomach turns at the thought.

Jason can’t imagine you’d be welcoming, either, after the way he left two nights ago. He watched you splash your face with cool water, leaving him with a shaky, watery smile, then listened to you putter around the kitchen with the promise of tea for the both of you. He felt like an asshole, picturing you coming back to the bathroom with his mug in hand, only to be met with an empty room and scattered first aid supplies on the floor. He didn’t even leave through the living room, like he entered, because you were in the kitchen. He climbed out of your bedroom window, like a coward. In his haste, he left those bloodstains he promised he would clean.

“I’m not sure she wants to see me.” Jason says quietly.

Dick answers thoughtfully; “Did she tell you that, or are you just making assumptions?”

Jason sighs. “Shit.”

“But, actually,” Dick winces. “You do have to stay here for the whole week, so…”

Jason lets out a tired groan and drops his face into his palms.

“Maybe call her?” Dick offers. He gathers the conversation is over from the way Jason glares at him, and turns to leave. But when he’s halfway out the door, he turns back. “Hey, Jaybird?”

Jason lifts his chin.

“You’re, uh…using protection, right?”

Jason blinks. It’s now that he realizes what Dick thought he was talking about and it burns him, leaving his skin red-hot.

“Get the fuck out.”

“Look, I’m just trying to—” He cuts himself off with a yelp, leaping out of the doorway to dodge the projectile pillow thrown at his head.

Jason hears a ‘good talk’ from the end of the hall, but is too busy with brand new concerns about his situation with you. If he could call you, he would, but he doesn’t have your number. He could easily find it, but not while he’s confined to this bedroom; he’d need access to his gear at home. And with the entire manor breathing down his neck for the next week, there was no way he’d be able to sneak out. So he’d have to wait an entire week before coming to see you again.

Maybe showing up at your place two days after the ordeal would have you understandably hurt, but nine days? You were going to be pissed. You are pissed.

Not at the Red Hood. You’re mad at yourself for being so stupid as to break down in front of him. It’s no fucking wonder he ran out the first chance he got. You sobbed into his shirt like an idiot for who knows how long. You practically felt him up. You’re an idiot for not thinking that would make him uncomfortable. And now, he’s never coming back, and you can’t even blame him!

There’s a book on your coffee table with a bookmark near the end that’s been staring at you since that night. That night when you, more consumed with confusion than anything else, dumped two mugs of fresh tea in the sink and flopped down on the couch and…waited. For what, you had no idea. The cover art took up your entire field of vision while you lied to yourself, saying you weren’t stealing glances at the window, hoping for a certain body to appear in the frame.

In the days following, the book sat there, practically taunting you until you turned it face-down so the sight of the star-constellated cover would stop making your stomach twist over in nausea. Nausea at the memory of how eager you were to pick it up at the library mere days after he had mentioned it, how you buzzed with excitement, and maybe something deeper, when you came home at night ready to snuggle into the couch with a blanket and your favorite mug to read the next chapter.

I hate you so much, you had murmured into a nasty bruise on the back of his left shoulder one night, though you couldn’t stop the grin that broke through the words.

What did I do? He replied, turning to look at you over his shoulder. 

You never told me that would happen halfway through, you said, forcing a frown when you looked up at him.

He chuckled. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to spoil it for you.

Through the amusement there was a lull in your usual rhythm. He did not need to ask which part of the book you were complaining about. He knows, knows you well enough to understand that you would be angry, reading about a budding, hopeful love that’s marred by the revelation that the boy and the girl will not make it. That their love was doomed from the start because, inevitably, he will have to leave her, and he has known the entire time that he would have to leave. That he loved her with one foot out the door.

You turned him around, ready to focus on the small abrasion at his temple when he asks, forgive me?

Fine, I guess so, you said, standing on your toes to get closer to his head.

That night replayed in your mind too often. The way he moved a ghost of an inch closer to lean into your fingers. The smell that was purely him in the grime and sweat in his hair when you pushed it back from his forehead, hoping he wouldn’t notice the extra second you lingered, fingers threaded into those streaks of white. You always wondered if they would feel different than the rest of his hair. They didn’t. They were just as soft. You wondered if anyone else knew that. You hoped not; no one else needed to know him the way you did.

(No one needed to know that you revisited that night with such frequency, either, in the middle of the night hidden under layers of blankets and darkness with nothing but your hands and imagination. You’d take that to the grave.)

Perhaps, deep down, there was a small part of you that wished he would turn up at your window again, this time armed with reasonings and apologies.

There was an emergency.

My team needed me.

I didn’t want to leave.

But after five days of radio silence, there’s not much you can do except take the hint.

You go about your normal routine, trying your hardest to push him out of your mind. Things at work are steady, your position intact and safe from usurping coworkers. You resign yourself to a fate of friends with questionable compassion, grateful to have any at all, and call up your best friend to smooth things over. She accepts, moving on to squeal about her boyfriend’s friend that she’s been dying to set you up with. You reluctantly agree to a double date somewhere down the line, but start preparing excuses and illnesses in the back of your mind.

Ten days after that night, that book is one week past its due date when you muster up the will to take it back to the Gotham Public Library.

(So maybe you still held out a small flicker of hope. What matters now is that you’re here, ready to return it and blow out that flame.)

There’s one person ahead of you when you fall into line at the front desk. He makes easy conversation with the librarian while she scans his library card; judging by the waves he garners from other passing staff, he must be popular around here.

“Thanks again, you’re the best,” he says, taking the book she hands him.

“Oh, of course,” the librarian gushes, a faint rouge coloring her face. “You let me know how you like that one.”

“I will.”

He turns around, halting suddenly to stop himself from walking into you. You mutter out an apology, ready to move past him, but he stares at you, saying nothing. His large hand tightens its grip on an old and worn book. The ends of jet black strands peek out from under a red beanie and he searches you with wide, teal eyes, mouth agape like he wants to speak. He’s looking at you like he’s been looking for you for ages, and he can’t believe you’re here.

“Hi,” he says, sounding a little breathless.

“Hi.” You clutch your book tighter against your chest, not knowing what to make of this man. It draws his eyes lower and he sees the title.

“Hi,” he says again. Then; “I— I was wondering. About that book.” He nods toward it. “I’m, uh, thinking about reading it. What did you think?”

“Oh,” you exhale. “I actually never finished it. Sorry.”

“Oh,” he echoes. His face falls, but only for a moment, before returning to a neutral expression. “Okay, sorry.”

He brushes past, leaving you addled in his wake, but also next in line. The librarian flashes you a glare when the book is scanned in as one week late. Sheepishly, you pay the fine and watch as it gets rolled away on a re-shelf cart, the last of your connections to the Red Hood rolling along with it.

It would be another two months before you saw him again.

remember after the last part when i said "ignore how his open would is just sitting there marinating"? well i figured out how to amend that👍 idk why i feel like this is so short i tried to write more but yk how it is the story goes the way it wants to i am but the messenger. i've been experiencing mad writer's block this past couple of weeks please pray for me🙏🙏🙏

listen to the inspo song!!!

[nathanbatemanfucker]

REMY!!! REMYYYYYY

"Beyond Misconceptions" is EXACTLY what I needed today oh my GOD my anxiety has been acting up and this was such a tonic 🥹

The fact that Joaquin is the kind of lover to truly and selflessly go "if you'd be better off with someone else, then I want that for you even though it would break my heart" but then he is so comforted I'M CRYING I LOVE THEIR DYNAMIC SO MUCH

Also, bc you said requests are open, if it's not too much to ask... could we maybe get something where Joaquin is very serious about reader and wants to introduce her to Sam and has a convo w Sam about how he feels? Idk if that's too sappy ofc you don't have to im just swooning thinking about it 👀 - ips anon

Between Sips

about this: wc: 658, characters: joaquin torres, sam wilson (f!reader mentioned), contents: alcohol mention, canon typical injury, joaquin’s a simp, SAMBUCKY if you squint, an: hope u enjoy this my sweet love & as always thank you for your support! <3

danny ramirez characters masterlist

Joaquin stands up from his desk, walking across the room to plop down on Sam’s. “Hey, come get a drink with me.”

“Man, I’m going home. To bed. You see this?” Sam points to the sling his arm is in.

Joaquin raises a brow at him, “What if I add in pizza?”

“Dude—“

“I wanna tell you about my girl. Please?” He presses his palms together, pleading. 

“Oh now you wanna tell me about your girl? After I’ve got a couple of broken ribs?”

Joaquin tries to bite away his grin but can’t. “You getting the shit beat out of you kinda made me realize I want you to meet her.”

“Little shit— you’re getting me dessert too,” Sam grumbles, grabbing his bag and heading toward the door. 

“That late night cookie place is right across the street,” Joaquin calls after him.

—

Sam watches Joaquin fidget with a smirk on his face. He’s never really seen the man like this, he’s always overly confident. “So, you gonna stall until the food gets here to stall again or—“

Joaquin’s grip on his beer tightens as he gazes down into the amber liquid. “Nah, man. I just, I don’t know— I’ve never met anyone like her before.”

Sam sobers a little bit, realizing how serious Joaquin is. Sitting up, he leans in a little, curious.

“Tell me more.”

Joaquin takes a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “It was kinda random, y’know? One of those things where you meet someone and think, this person might change my damn life.”

Sam raises a skeptical brow, waiting.

“I met her on a mission—nothing crazy, just some intel work. She clocked me right away, which should’ve been my first clue she was special.” Joaquin huffs a small laugh, shaking his head. 

“She’s got this way of looking at me, like she already knows what I’m gonna say before I say it. And she’s funny, man. Not just funny—sharp. Quick with it. Keeps me on my toes. But she’s also… sweet. Kind in a way that doesn’t ask for anything back. And when I’m with her, it’s like—” He stops, searching for the words.

Sam tilts his head. “Like what?”

Joaquin’s grip tightens on the beer again. “Like I don’t have to be anyone but me.”

Sam lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”

Joaquin laughs, feeling a little shy. “Yeah. Damn.”

“Can I see her?”

“Yeah, hold on,” Joaquin fishes out his wallet, pulling out the photo booth film strip he keeps there. 

Four photos, all of them where he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you— not when you were looking so angelic. Looking at the photo along with Sam makes him miss you more right now. 

“Oh, she’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

“I…I would do anything for her. I think anything, for real.”

“Would she do the same?”

“In a heartbeat.”

Sam nods, taking a pull of his beer. “And have you told her yet?”

“Told her what?”

“That you’re in love with her.”

Joaquin’s cheeks warm. He scratches at the back of his head with a sheepish smile. “Was hoping you could give me some pointers?”

Sam sighs. “Maybe I can finally give you some after this weekend.”

“Finally gonna tell him, huh?”

“Yeah, I think it’s about time. He’s got a weekend off appearances, we don’t have a mission. I don’t know,” Sam shrugs, letting his eyes drift to the mounted tv screen playing an old sports game. 

“It’ll be perfect man. Just be yourself.”

Sam scoffs playfully, his eyes returning to Joaquin. “How’d you end up giving me pointers?”

Joaquin shimmies his shoulders. “Must be the natural leader in me.”

“Yeah, yeah. So when am I meeting her?”

“I don’t know, let me pull up our calendar,” Joaquin starts to type in his password, scrolling through the date. 

“Our calendar? As in your shared calendar with her?”

“Fuck off.”

Sam can’t stop laughing. “I can’t wait to tell Buck.”

lmk if you'd like to be on the sfw (or nsfw for 18+) joaquin taglist!

sfw joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun, @isuckatmath, @arsonhotchner, @moonymeloncholymoney, @sidkneeeee, @galaxywannabe, @retrosabers, @marchingicenotes7

[81pastrys]

hi, hope you're having a good day! can u write about norris family, piastri family and sainz family are going to a family trip abroad. the children decide to be a little adventurous, and one of them ended up being in a hospital because of a (minor) injury

Outside the Paddock

Summary— The trio take their girls on a beach trip, but the beach isn’t the only trip that happens

Warnings— minor head injury ; screaming toddler ; hospital/er visit

A/N— this is long so enjoy 🙂‍↕️

Carlos, Lando, and Oscar planned on bringing their girls on a group trip after a very underwhelming grand prix. The girls didn’t seem bothered. They were so excited to go on a trip with their dads, uncles, and basically sisters at this point.

Lando and Lila were first to arrive at the house they had rented out, unpacking in a room with a wall of windows. Lila sat on the floor and admires the beach view.

Oscar and Mila arrived next, unpacking with Mila exploring the room like it was fake. Then jumping on the bed before Oscar warned her to behave.

Carlos and Viviana arrived last, Viviana asking all the questions in the world and Carlos answering every one throughly to where she could understand.

The first day they decided to go to the beach. The girl splashed each other and made sand castles. They were loving the trip. The three men sat back on chairs and talked about racing. They watched their three girls play around.

Lila was the first complainer of the three. Always with the dramatics. “Daddy, sand got in my eye!!” She whined, her left eye closed as she held a hand to it. Lando gently grabbed her hand away and wiped the sand away with a towel.

“There sweetheart, go have fun now.” Lando said smiling at her. Viviana was the next complainer running to Carlos with fully drenched hair and a few tears.

“My hair is wet papi!!” She explicitly told Lila and Mila she didn’t want her face or hair to get wet. She whined and cried in Carlos’s chest. He dried her hair the best he could with her towel and sent her away again.

Mila came over and just crawled on top of Oscar. No explanation. “What’s wrong angel?” He rubbed her back and she just hummed. “Go play Mila.” He encouraged and she did. She just needed a moment with her dad.

All three men stood at attention when a scream was let out. The girls had wondered off by some rocks. They all make their way over quickly, it seemed urgent. Oscar about freaked out seeing blood on Mila’s face.

“Oh my god, what happened?” Oscar said, you’re supposed to keep calm not to freak your kid out. However his daughter looked like she just got mauled by an animal.

“She slipped on a rock.” Lila said, now in Lando’s arms. Oscar brought his screaming toddler by the water and tried cleaning some of the blood off. What he forgot was that it was salt water and made her scream even more.

Viviana and Lila covered their ears from the loud screams and they walked back by their things, Oscar grabbing a towel and gently cleaning Mila’s face. “Mila, I need you to stop screaming at me.” He said softly. “Look at me.” She turned her head and sobbed still. “You’re going to be okay.”

He finally noticed the cut that had caused blood to gush over her face and winced. “That looks deep, we should take her to the hospital.” Carlos said. Mila screamed again when Oscar dabbed the wound.

“I’ll start the car, look up the nearest one.” Lando said. Lila and Viviana were absolutely clueless as to why their trip got cut short. Oscar was holding Mila and still examining the wound on her forehead.

“Hey, angel, look at me okay?” He said. She looked up at him and he weakly smiled. “We’re going to bring you to a big doctor okay? And they’re going to help you feel better.” She nodded.

They rushed to get everything in the car and headed to the nearest ER. Only 5 minutes thank god, Oscar didn’t think he could handle Mila in pain much longer. They got out and checked in.

“What brings you in today little girl?” A nurse asked. “Oh no! How did you get that?” She examined the wound on Mila’s forehead and Mila shied away from the cold touch. “Dad can you sit on the bed with her and hold her so she isn’t scared?” The nurse asked.

Oscar obliged and sat Mila in his lap while the nurse looked at her forehead. “We were at the beach and she slipped on rocks.” Oscar explained. “She bled quite a lot.” Concern lacing his voice.

The nurse explained that she’ll need a few minor stitches but nothing too major. Mila whined, she didn’t understand anything that was being said. She leaned into Oscar’s chest and he let her.

“She’s going to give you medicine so you don’t feel the pain okay?” Oscar said when the nurse came back. “Do me a favor angel, hold my hands.” He held his hands on her knees and she listened. He held her hands with a tight grip when the nurse had a shot in hand.

“It’ll be a tiny pinch, and then no more pain, okay?” Mila nodded and let the nurse do what she needed to. Oscar ended up with her tiny hands in one of his and then held her head with the other so she didn’t move. She let out another scream and Oscar rubbed her belly after. “All done! See just a little pinch.”

Oscar got her to calm down once again. The nurse returned with stitching supplies and Mila didn’t want to move her head from Oscar’s shoulder. Luckily enough, her head was tilted the right way for the nurse to stitch her up on his shoulder. She didn’t feel a thing.

“I’m going to put some butterfly bandages, but she should see her pediatrician when you get back home.” The nurse explained. Oscar got paperwork done and then went back to the car. Carlos and Lando decided to opt out of the hospital visit with their daughters, thinking of how hard it was going to be keeping them in one spot for hours.

They actually made a trip home to change, allowing the girls to nap along the way. Oscar put Mila in her car seat and explained everything to the other two. Mila was out by the time they got back to the house.

I figured since Lila broke her ankle, Mila should be the culprit

Taglist: @il0vereadingstuff @kallanfiona

[xxcallmemaryxx]

I think it’s about time you became aware of the sweet creature outside your window, don’t you?

You come face to face with vampire Vessel for the first time, by complete accident. Good thing he didn’t freak out, right? Right…?

Under the cut <3 ~

It’s a night like many of the ones before this one, Vessel sits up in his beloved tree, hidden by the shadows, as he watches you finish up with your dinner. He can still smell the distinct scent of each spice and seasoning you used in your dish, it wafts from your home and lingers in the night air around it. He doesn’t have much use for human food now, he can’t remember the last time he bothered even thinking about it. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hungry right now. It smells devine. He’s unsure if he’s hungry to eat it, or eat you after you’ve scraped your plate. But either way, he wants in. He gets a bit lost in thought.

Images of you two cooking dinner together flash through his mind. He’d hunt the nicest meats for you. Cooking it exactly how you like and using the same spices you seem to gravitate to each night. He pictures you two sitting side by side while you eat. Not across from each other, no, he refuses to let a table separate you from being pressed against his side. You’d have to convince him to let you feed yourself. He wants to be the one to satisfy you in each and every way possible and that includes holding the fork and guiding your food into your mouth himself. He’d plant wet kisses to your face as his thank you, he’d take your plate and wash everything up while you let your food settle. And he’d carry you both to the couch to wind down before bed.

He gets so deep into this world he’s created in his head, he forgets it’s not real. For a brief moment, he forgets all about the fact he’s watching you from the outside and that he’s currently sitting in a tree, not cuddled up with you on your couch. So much so, he leans too far forward and slips right off the branch.

Now Vessel is a vampire, so there’s not much he can do to injure himself. But he’s not immune to scaring the fuck out of himself, and in this moment, that’s exactly what he did. So much so, he couldn’t stop the shout that flew from his throat as he slipped from the branch and fell to the ground, nor could he stop the curse that echoed through the trees as he hit the ground beneath him.

Now if that startled him, it definitely startled you. And what does Vessel see when he looks up towards your kitchen window? He sees you frozen in place, staring right back at him.

Vessel’s concept of time is vastly different to yours. He’s been around for hundreds of years, so hours feel like seconds to him. But in this very moment for the first time in centuries, his world froze.

You see him.

You’re looking right at him.

He doesn’t know what to do.

He’d laid awake for hours of a day fantasising of what it would feel like to be looked at by you. As foolish as it sounds, he’d admit the feeling of the thought alone almost kicked his heart back to life. But this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

He watches as you dart from your kitchen window and towards your front door.

And it’s now he realises his night has come to a close.

He cannot get up from the ground fast enough. He kicks dirt and leaves up everywhere, it sticks to his hands and his ass but he doesn’t bother wiping it off. Absentmindedly, his arm wraps itself around his middle. Seeking comfort. Needing contact with nobody to cling to. He hears the sound of your front door being slammed open with force and with tears in his eyes all he can do is stand there in complete shock as you round the corner and come face to face with him. He can tell you’re scared. So he steps away and goes to leave before you get a good enough look at him.

Vessel is devastated. He didn’t know he still had the capability to feel like this. After living for so long, he was sure there was nothing else he could experience that would pull such feelings from him, but it’s right now he realises he’s been proven wrong. He can’t will himself to move as you stare at each other. If his heart wasn’t already dead, he knows it would die in his chest. The look of fear in your eyes is unmistakable. You were never supposed to look at him like this. Ever. You were supposed to look upon him with love. With desire. With content. His throat closes up and he takes another step back. A sob wracking his body as it rips itself from his chest.

He is a fool. Hatred isn’t a strong enough word for what he feels for himself right now.

“I am sorry…”

His voice is broken and quiet, he’s sure you barely heard him. You shake your head at him, stepping forward and going to reach out.

“Just wait-“

But he’s gone. In a mere second. And that stops you in your tracks. You blink into the darkness like an idiot, trying to will him back. Trying to get answers. Trying to figure out if what you saw even just happened or if you’re hallucinating. There’s no words for what just happened to you. You’re at an absolute loss for words, the shock so intense you almost collapse.

You stand there frozen, unsure of what to process first. The fact that there was someone outside your home, in the middle of the woods, in the dead of night? Or that fact he was gone in a second? That can’t be right. That can’t be real. That’s not something humans can do.

You slowly approach the mess of dirt that remains, you didn’t see it but you heard him collide with the ground. As you look up to figure out where he came from, you see a sturdy looking tree branch that lines up perfectly with the disturbed earth beneath it. It’s dark though, so you can see why you’d not noticed him prior. Slowly, you make your way back inside, triple checking your locks on every entryway into your home. You’re on edge, but you can’t shake the feeling that you’re not in any danger. Which is weird to process. You make a mental note to ask around the nearby town about people messing around in the woods during the night.

As you finish up getting ready for bed, your night just feels different. Like something is missing, almost. The air is too warm, or you’ve forgotten a step in your nightly routine. You’re not sure. You chalk it up to the fright of seeing someone outside and try to just go to sleep. It takes a while, but eventually your body gives in. That night, you dream of sharp teeth and oddly coloured eyes.

…

You awaken the next morning to a crack of thunder ripping you from your sleep. It seems so much louder out here surrounded by nothing but trees. It’s definitely taken some getting used too. You slip out of bed and stand by your kitchen window, eyeing that branch and the ground below it. Except now there’s nothing to see except for a puddle. You stand there longer than you realise, eyes glued to the ground outside. It felt so real. You still remember the sound of his yell, the sound of his body hitting the ground. You remember the cold biting into your skin as you ran outside to figure out what the hell had happened. But the speed he took off with… that couldn’t have been real.

Another deafening boom of thunder rips you from your thoughts and causes you to jump back from your window. It must have been a dream. This thunder must have been what you heard, not someone yelling. Not someone falling from a tree branch. You laugh at yourself. Of course it was a weird dream, nobody comes out here. Nobody moves that fast. You shake your head at your own stupidity and move on to start your day as normal. No longer worried. But every now and then, you can’t help but look back out that window.

…

Vessel does not return that night.

But someone else does.

When ii realised the state in which Vessel returned home early last night must have had something to do with you, he took it upon himself to pay you a visit. Really he just wanted to know if he needed to pack himself and the boys up now. Frankly, he doesn’t care for Vessels infatuation with you. His concern is the safety of his family, and although he doesn’t know what happened, he’s confident that you’re not concerned. There’s no frantic packing. You’ve not got the authorities on your door step. You actually seem completely unfazed. He definitely notices the way your eyes flick to the window more often than not. He finds it amusing, it’s something he knows a certain someone would be interested in knowing. Vessel may have kept the events of last night to himself, but ii is not stupid. He doesn’t need to know the finer details, but he will be having serious conversations with Vessel about you.

“Humans… nothing but trouble.”

He mumbles to himself, leaving you alone and heading back to the manor.

He supposes he can tell Vessel the good news.

Maybe it’ll pull the big sook out of bed.

.

.

.

Hello hello please enjoy. You finally saw him. You’ll see him again don’t worry.

Also I proof read this while half asleep so I apologise for any ridiculous spelling mistakes.

I love you all <3333

[greensagephase]

I was going to comment, but my response was longer than a comment, so reblog it is 😅 @oharaslove

V, omg, thank you so much for sharing your live reactions! 🥹

Girl… the scenario about Miguel grabbing and turning us around before kissing us! I need that so bad 😭🙏🏼 but haha, Miguel truly got all flustered being called cute! I’m so ready for Dulzura to say more stuff and see his reaction to it, it’s going to be so cute!

The way you thought it’d be one bed because of the Lovers’ Cabin and it wasn’t…. until there was only one bed😈

“STOP BEING SO BOYFRIEND IF YOU AINT ADMITTING SHIT” - SJFDKFJIFJIJEFIJEI😭😭 No, because Miguel really does act like such a boyfriend, omg. He’s basically husband-ing now, too, and doesn’t realize! Someone needs to tell him!

I love how so many of you mentioned the ice skating part! It’s literally my top #2 favorite moment because of how sweet Miguel was, even helping us put our skating shoes on (and that comment by the couple !!! MARRIAGE LEVEL!) and then him catching us and being so patient as we learned — someone pls hold me 😭😭😭

RAHHHH, THANK YOU POOKIE!! I loved their little pinkie kiss, too. And, awww, I see what you mean! It’s somehow a bit more intimate than a lips to lips kiss 🥺

THE FREAKING WALL AND BED. That room has seen a lot of things💀💀💀 I’m glad it made it you laugh, hehe!

Girl — The happy trail, the happy trail, the happy trail… Just thinking about it makes me want to fall to my knees. I also just got goosebumps. I need help 😭

And then, there was one bed 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

Your comment about Miguel keeping his arms on us — Me, too, pookie🤭🤭

Sjkdjfdkjdkdj Miguel’s rant about the Christmas movies was so much fun, I’m not going to lie! And yes, he’s definitely one for the girls! 🥺

V, I need Miguel to hold me, too! Just imagine how warm and toasty he is! I would be out like a light in Miguel’s arms

Hahaha, Lyla and Mayday literally being the wingwomen in this chapter!! We love the support :))

EEEE, I’m so glad you liked the jealously and possessiveness of Miggy here (I was giggling and kicking my feet, no joke!)

Lol Pav’s comment had me cackling! I wanted to give a little nod to readers, hehe! Also… A peck? In the future :))

Omg, the Mayday and Gabby moment 😭😭 I thought it would be sweet to include Gabby here and have her be Mayday’s little friend :’)

Peter B. really messed up the near kiss 🙄

The part about us searching for each other’s touch - I need a moment 🥺🥺

HAHA, the way you’re not explicit about what you’re referring to, but I know it’s about the possibility of a kiss between Ben and us! Thankfully, it didn’t happen. And lol, Miguel really was trying to assure himself he’s bothered by the mere idea of this happening for a whole other reason and not because he’s jealous… 🤭

POOKIE, DON’T WORRY! THE HUG IS COMING SOON AND THEN WE’LL GET TO PLAY WITH THE HAIRS ON THE NAPE OF MIGUEL’S NECK AND NUZZLE AGAINST HIS NECK, SMELLING HIS LOVELY AND COZY SCENT — I literally cannot wait for this part!! It’s coming, I promise! Thank you SO MUCH for reading, V, and for sharing your live reactions! I truly enjoyed reading it and feeling like I was there with you, hehe! Thank you!!! 🥰🥹💕

Nonviolent Communication - Part 22

Pairing: Spider-Man!Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader Summary: A getaway trip before Christmas with Miguel! ♡ Word Count: 27.6k (back on my shiz, what's new?😔) Warnings: mention of blood and injuries; mentions of Mexican/Latin food, but it's nothing new; the dating allegations are getting harder to deny, I'm afraid; slightly jealous Miguel??!🗣🤭 A/N: hiii, new update! Music Inspo (Spotify playlist): "Carol of the Bells" - John Williams "Better Than Snow" - Norah Jones, Laufey "Where or When" - Laufey "Die With A Smile" - Birru (piano version) "Nocturne (Interlude)" - Laufey Masterlist

Part 22

Snow sticks to the bottom of your shoes as you walk across the snow-covered pavement. The chill bites at your face, making you feel thankful about not forgetting your gloves or else, your fingers would be freezing right now. From somewhere in the city, you hear a clock strike seven times, announcing it's already 7pm. Internally cursing, you speed up to your destination. You could’ve simply traveled straight to the location from Miguel’s universe, but you decided against it to avoid any potential witnesses and now, you’re running a few minutes late.

Pausing at an intersection, you make the spontaneous decision to take a shortcut through an alleyway. If you were any other woman, you'd disapprove of this decision, but since you're Spider-Woman, you take the risk.

You move quickly through it, steering clear of frozen puddles of water under dirty and dimly lit light posts that make the alleyway a perfect place for a naive individual to run into trouble. Halfway across, your spider senses alarm you and a second later, an arm is wrapped around your shoulders.

“Drop all the money and jewelry you have,” a rough voice commands. “No screaming, or else.”

Seriously? You sigh internally. This is the second petty robber you've come across tonight just on your way to the dinner party.

“Did you not hear me? I told you to drop all the money and jewelry you have on you. Now. Don’t make me repeat myself, pretty thing,” the man says, his arm tightening around your body as a warning.

“You're lucky,” you start. “I don't have much time to teach you a proper lesson.”

The man snickers, amused by your words. “What could a thing like you do to me?” he arrogantly asks, that being the last thing he says.

In the blink of an eye, you easily free yourself and push the man against the wall, earning yourself a noise of surprise. You look at the poorly lit light posts and decide that they’ll at least keep your face hidden pretty well, so your identity won't be compromised.

“Now, where were we?” you ask, taking care of the matter. Two minutes later, you walk out of the alleyway and slip your phone back into one of your coat's pockets. You continue walking, police sirens audible in the distance.

It's not until you're about thirty feet away from the building’s entrance that you notice him, Felix Kerr. He's clad in dark clothes from head to toe, blending into the night. You hum to yourself, hoping he didn't see you slip out from the alleyway from a distance, but just in case he did, you relax your face and wear an expression of innocence and ignorance to the situation as you walk closer to the building's door.

“Madam,” Kerr says as a form of greeting, breaking the silence.

“Mr. Kerr,” you reply with a nod.

“Are you alright?” Kerr asks, pushing himself off a car — Harry’s — and stepping closer. His wide shoulders are covered in flakes of snow, making you wonder how long he's been outside in the cold and why.

“I am, thank you.”

“Allow me to walk you inside,” he says, gesturing to the double doors of the tall building. Before you even respond, he’s already moving towards the doors, expecting you to follow.

Silently, you follow and enter the building while he holds the door for you. Inside, you're both greeted by warmth, a sharp contrast to the coldness outside. Once you reach one of the elevators, Kerr steps aside to allow you in first.

“Ladies first,” he mutters.

Inside, Kerr presses a button and the doors close. You find yourselves, standing across from each other, leaning into the elevator's walls in silence, minus the elevator’s sound system announcing each floor level, for several seconds.

“You're lucky,” Kerr starts, breaking the silence.

“Pardon?” you respond, turning to look at him in the face.

“A petty robber was reported in that alleyway minutes before you stepped out from it. You're lucky Spider-Woman got him before you ran into him.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. How the hell does he know about that? Quickly, you use your genuine surprise to hide the reality, however.

“There was a petty robber there?” you ask, lifting a hand to your chest to pretend to be shocked and frightened by the news. “I did hear noises, but the alleyway is so poorly lit, I didn't see anyone. I assumed it was coming from the other side of the street. Oh, my goodness,” you mumble, looking down. “My landlord stopped me on my way out of the building to discuss something. It's why I'm running late. Had I been on time, I might have ran into them,” you lie. “Who knows what could've happened.” You sigh in relief and lift your face to look at Kerr again, who is observing you with a frown on his face.

“I’m glad you missed them, madam,” he replies. “Thankfully, Spider-Woman got there before you did.”

“Agreed,” you answer, pushing your hands into your pockets and turning to look at the digital display that reads the floor number. You clear your throat. “How did you find out so soon, sir?” you ask, turning to look at Kerr again.

At that, the older man gives you a small grin. “I used to be a police officer. My coworkers and I remain in touch, especially since I’m somewhat of a bodyguard for Mr. Harry. As soon as the call was reported, someone notified me since they know I’m in the area with him. I suppose they figured I could take action if needed before they arrived.”

“Oh, that’s… Great,” you answer, offering a small smile. You turn to look at the display again, feeling off not by the fact that Kerr is an ex-police officer, but because it seems that he’s still somewhat in touch with the police department, as if he were still active. Silently, you wonder if it’s illegal and also, if you’ve ever come across him in the past as Spider-Woman, but you cannot remember ever seeing him before that day you ran into Harry for the very first time in years.

“We’re here,” Kerr says just as the elevator doors open. “Ladies first.”

Thanking Kerr, you step into the fifth floor of the building. Christmas music, laughter, and conversations immediately reach your ears, reminding you that this is a Christmas work party Harry invited you to, even though you’re not an employee. He initially asked you about meeting on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, but you had to decline because you already have plans — plans that involve traveling to another destination with Miguel and part of the spider gang tomorrow.

Unfortunately, scheduling a dinner between Christmas and New Year’s isn’t possible because Harry is highly busy with work and will also be traveling out of the country with his father the day after Christmas. Still, Harry insisted he’d like to celebrate a bit with you, even if it meant you attending his father’s work Christmas party, and now you’re here.

In truth, you wish you were home by the fireplace with a cozy book and café de olla [coffee] with Miguel sitting across from you, both wearing pajamas or lounge clothes. Instead, you’re here in this room full of strangers.

“Mr. Harry is this way,” Kerr says, tearing you away even from the mental image of being home with Miguel.

You almost sigh in displeasure, but stop yourself from doing so. Following Kerr, you move past a few people before you’re in front of the man who once used to be a close friend. Seeing Harry’s face, you’re reminded of the awkward moment you both shared last month when he went straight for a hug while you offered a handshake. This time, thankfully, Harry holds back from instantly going for that and instead, he smiles at you and places his hand on your shoulder to greet you.

“You’ve arrived! I was wondering if you had forgotten,” Harry states, a hint of worry in his tone.

“No way,” you answer with a smile. “I was just a little late, I’m sorry.”

“Did something happen?” Harry asks, concerned.

“No, thankfully not,” you answer, reassuring him.

“Miss Y/N barely missed an encounter with a criminal, sir,” Kerr states, gently inserting himself into the conversation.

Harry’s eyes go wide before his gaze sweeps over you. “Oh, God. Are you okay?” he asks, placing his hands on both your shoulders to inspect you. “Are you hurt? Scared?”

“I’m alright, Harry,” you answer, slightly annoyed by Kerr. “I didn’t even see the person. I missed them completely.”

“Thank God,” Harry breathes out. “I’m so glad to hear that. Come on, let’s get you something to eat and drink. Thank you, Felix.” With that, Harry guides you away.

After two hours of conversing, eating, and drinking, Harry helps you slip on your coat when you inform him that you’re heading out. Insisting on walking with you, Harry guides you out after you thank his father and wish him well for the holidays and their trip.

“Please allow Felix to drive you home,” Harry says in the elevator, suddenly.

“What? No, no, that’s not necessary.”

“I can’t allow you to walk home alone this late. Much less when you hardly missed a criminal earlier. I’d drive you myself, but I must see everyone away.”

“It’s fine, Harry, seriously,” you insist.

“Please. I’ll be worried the entire time until you reach home,” Harry states, taking your arm and holding it. “You’ll be home sooner, too. Out of this cold weather.”

Sighing, you agree. “Alright, alright. If it’s not a bother.”

“Of course not. I’ll be relieved knowing you’re safe. And, Felix is free,” he answers before you both move towards his car. “Felix. Please drive Y/N home.”

“Yes, sir,” Kerr replies, moving quickly to open the backdoor on the passenger’s side. He looks between you both, waiting.

Harry smiles, his hand sliding down your coat. “Thank you for coming tonight. I’m glad we got to celebrate and enjoy a bit of the Christmas season together, even if it was through a work party. I wish we could’ve had dinner, but perhaps we can do something once the new year starts, and we’re both free.”

“That sounds wonderful. Once you’re back from your trip, we can discuss it,” you reply with a smile. “By the way, have a safe trip, okay? And, try to enjoy the holidays with Mr. Osborn.”

Harry laughs softly and nods. “I will. I try to appreciate every moment with my dad as much as possible, being the only parent I have left. We’ll make time to celebrate the holidays properly, for sure.”

“Good,” you answer, slipping into the car. “I’ll see you soon, then?”

“See you soon,” Harry answers, looking down at you. “Happy Holidays!”

“Happy Holidays!” you cheerfully reply before Harry steps back and Kerr closes the door. After waving goodbye and buckling your seat, Kerr begins the drive to your home.

Quiet Christmas music plays from the radio, filling a silence for several minutes. You find yourself staring out the window, counting the seconds until you’re home and done with this car ride, which feels awkward for some reason.

“Excited for the holidays, madam?”

You blink in surprise, not expecting the man to make small conversation. “… Yes… Yes, I’m excited,” you start softly. “What about you, sir?”

“Hm… Yes.”

You nod, despite the fact that he probably can’t see you. “I’m glad to hear that,” you reply before a short silence follows.

“Will you be doing some traveling, madam?” Kerr asks, continuing the small conversation.

With pursed lips, you decide not to fully share your plans. Better safe than sorry. “No traveling, just going to other people’s homes for the celebrations,” you share. “Small gatherings.”

“I see,” Kerr replies as he makes a turn.

You glance out the window before deciding it would be bad manners if you don’t ask about his plans. “What about you? Are you traveling with your family, or staying home?”

It takes several seconds for Kerr to reply, as if he’s deeply pondering your question, and you almost swear he looks at you through the rear view mirror for a second before he finally replies. “I’ll be traveling with Mr. Harry and Mr. Osborn.” Kerr pauses, letting that sink in. “I don’t have any family.”

“Oh,” you respond in a hushed tone, understanding that feeling very well from when you were alone before joining the Spider Society.

“Not anymore,” Kerr continues quietly as he pulls to the side of the street, in front of your building. He clears his throat, unbuckles his seat, and gets down in seconds.

Despite Kerr’s startling revelation that he no longer has a family, you quickly unbuckle your seat when you see how fast he gets out of the car. A second later, your door opens and Kerr is there, offering his hand to help you out. To avoid being rude, you accept the gesture and step out of the car. Shivering slightly now that you’re back in the cold weather, you quickly thank Kerr for helping you out and for the ride.

“No problem, madam. I’m simply doing my job,” Kerr replies, taking a step back. “I’ll let Mr. Harry know that you made it home safely.”

“Thank you. Have a good night, and… I hope you enjoy the holidays,” you gently say, taking several steps backwards, towards your building’s entrance. “And, be safe.”

“Thank you. I hope you and your friends enjoy the holidays, too. Take care,” Kerr says with a nod, seemingly unbothered by the cold.

With a final nod, you walk towards your entrance, feeling a heavy gaze all the way to the door. As you open, you dare to glance back, finding Kerr in the same spot and watching you, probably to ensure you truly make it home safely, or maybe because Harry asked him to.

Inside your apartment, you turn the lights on and do a quick check around your space. You fluff the couch pillows and refold the blanket over your couch, wasting time. Humming, you turn to the art work on your wall and stare at it before you turn away and check your gizmo. After a few seconds of reading random messages from your friends, you subtly check the window to ensure that Kerr is gone. Satisfied when you don't see the car anywhere in sight, you open a multidimensional portal and finally, **travel back to Nueva York.

You step into the penthouse, specifically the living room, where you find the fireplace roaring with gentle flames. Above it, a fluffy and big green garland with ribbon, ornaments, twinkling lights, and other Christmas decorations adorns the fireplace mantle.

"Dulzura? Are you home?" Miguel calls out from the kitchen.

"I'm home!" you answer with a smile upon hearing his voice. You quickly slip your coat off just as Miguel enters the living room, looking incredibly cozy and warm in a white cable knit sweater while carrying a tray with two mugs on it.

With a warm smile and pink cheeks due to the penthouse’s warmth, Miguel happily welcomes you back home. "How did it go?" Miguel asks, handing you a mug.

"Mmm, it smells so good," you murmur with a smile, lifting the mug closer to smell the freshly made Abuelita hot chocolate Miguel promised to have ready for your return [a hot chocolate brand]. "It went well. It was a work party, so I talked with a few strangers, but for the most part, I talked with Harry and his dad."

"I'm glad to hear it went well. Sounds like it went smoother than the previous time you met with him," Miguel replies, placing the tray on the coffee table.

You smile sheepishly, remembering the embarrassing and awkward moment with Harry and his attempt to hug you on Día de Los Muertos for the second time tonight [Day of the Dead]. You sigh in relief that that didn't happen again, or something of the sort. "Don't remind me. I'm getting embarrassed again just thinking about it, but thankfully, nothing like that happened. It went smoothly. I was just a little late because of petty crimes."

"What happened?" Miguel asks, worry instantly flashing in his eyes despite the fact that you’re Spider-Woman. Still, you get a fuzzy feeling inside seeing Miguel so concerned over you.

“Just two men trying to rob money and jewelry. I took care of them, no worries,” you answer, reassuring Miguel “How’s the packing?” you ask before taking the smallest sip from the hot chocolate to avoid burning yourself.

“My bag is ready. Yours?”

“I have a few things I still need to pack, but I’m pretty much done! I’ll pack them before I go to sleep. So, packing the groceries is the only thing we have left to do?” you ask, watching Miguel take a seat on the couch, the one you always sit on. You make note of that, how he opted to sit there instead of the couch he always sits on, on top of the fact that he’s leaving your specific spot open. You can’t help but interpret it as a silent invitation for you to take your spot, next to him, so you do.

“Yep, the groceries are the only things we’ll need to pack tomorrow. Other than that, we’re set,” Miguel answers before gently blowing on his mug. “Shock.” Miguel gets up, placing his mug on the coffee table. “I forgot the pan dulce [Mexican pastries].” Miguel almost facepalms at his forgetfulness. He was so happy about you returning already that he forgot about the damn pan dulce. A few seconds later, Miguel returns to the living room with a plate that contains a few pieces of the sweet pastries, neatly arranged. “Here we go!”

Miguel joins you once again on the couch, now with pan dulce to go with the hot chocolate. You both indulge, happy and relieved to be back in each other’s presence while basking in the cozy vibes from the penthouse thanks to the Christmas decorations you both put together; from the garland on the fireplace mantle to the Christmas tree. Drinking hot chocolate, you admire it.

It’s a tall and fluffy artificial tree — not holographic like previous years. Smiling to yourself, you remember how at the end of November, Miguel and you put it together along with the holographic one in the dining area and the one at your apartment. You enjoyed setting up each one, but this one… It has a special place in your heart.

It was Miguel who brought up the topic the day after Thanksgiving. Unlike the previous year, when you both brought up plans for Thanksgiving dinner barely a few days before the holiday, Miguel and you discussed it with plenty of time this year. It may have seemed silly, considering you spend so much time with each other already, to think that you wouldn’t spend Thanksgiving day together, but still, you both brought it up to confirm.

Of course, the answer was yes; you wanted to have dinner together for the holiday again. It resulted in the two of you cooking and inviting the spider gang to join you, hoping that some of them could join.

In the end, a majority of the spider gang made it, along with a very pregnant Mary Jane, Mayday, and Gayatri. With such delicious food and great company, the dinner extended longer than either Miguel or you anticipated, but neither of you minded. The next day, after waking up much later than you’re both used to and having a much needed mug with coffee, Miguel brought it up. He asked if you wanted to help him set up the Christmas tree.

You agreed, expecting it to be the holographic tree with holographic ornaments, but no. An hour later, Miguel came back from downstairs carrying a large box. The surprise must have been evident on your face because he grinned at you before he placed the box down in the living room floor.

“¿Qué [what?]? Did you forget what I told you about Christmas trees on Earth-928? We do have artificial trees, you know,” he said, still grinning.

You grinned back before he headed back downstairs to retrieve the decorations, thinking to himself that you must have forgotten what he told you in the past regarding trees for the holidays, but it wasn’t that. You didn’t forget what Miguel told you; about how most families have holographic trees on this Earth and that they have an app to design their ornaments together, making it a family tradition. Nor did you forget the fact that some individuals or families have artificial trees and some even live ones, but that only the wealthiest tend to go for the latter.

You remember thinking that you knew Miguel had money, more than plenty, since he lives in this penthouse and keeps up with the Spider Society’s headquarters. Along with that, you recalled thinking you expected Miguel to own an artificial tree, but that it was likely he didn't put it up because he hadn't celebrated the holidays in recent years. Since you’ve only ever seen a holographic tree in his home, Miguel must have thought you forgot the information he gave you because of your surprise, but it wasn’t that.

Your surprise wasn’t due to seeing an artificial Christmas tree on this Earth, but rather because Miguel actually brought out his. That was the reason for your surprise; that Miguel felt like putting a physical tree up, and on top of that, with you.

Perhaps it was silly, but as the two of you assembled the tree and fluffed the branches before decorating it while lively and joyous holiday music came from the record player, you couldn’t help but consider it as yet another step forward for Miguel.

It was hard not to when you noted the smile on his face while he added beautiful ornaments to the top of the tree where you couldn’t reach, something he teased you about. Ornaments, bows, and other small decorations were added to the tree and when you thought it was all done and ready to lit up, Miguel disappeared upstairs.

He came back shortly with a bag, wearing a sheepish expression on his face. You didn’t know why, but you had a feeling it had to do with what was inside the bag, and you were right.

Inside the bag were clear, see through ornaments to be decorated along with supplies for such activity. Still looking sheepish, Miguel explained that DIY ornaments are also a thing in his dimension.

“And, I thought — I was thinking — you know,” Miguel said, his cheeks feeling warm while trying to relay the purpose of him buying those supplies. “If you want, which you don’t have to,” he continued, scratching his neck out of shyness. “That we could make some?”

You chuckled sweetly and walked past him. “You’re so cute when you’re nervous,” you murmured before you took a seat on the floor and picked up a clear ornament.

“I’m wha — cute?” Miguel asked, so flabbergasted that the words were barely a whisper. He watched you with wide eyes and even redder cheeks while you looked through the supplies with much excitement, he wondered why he was even nervous about asking you. Meanwhile, his brain was struggling to process the fact that you called him ‘cute’. A few seconds later, he pulled it together and joined your side, clearing his throat and hoping that you hadn’t notice any of that because in the moment, Miguel couldn’t even understand why your simple and short statement was affecting him so much.

In the end, the activity gave you something fun to do together and once completed, the ornaments were hanged on the tree not far from each other — as if neither of you could handle even your ornaments being too far apart from the other.

Now, your gaze falls on those ornaments, hanging so beautifully from the lit tree. A few branches below those, hangs another one that catches your attention. It turns out there are highly small projectors, small enough to fit inside a regular-size ornament, available on this Earth, and now, there’s that ornament displaying pictures of Miguel and you throughout the year.

Musing on the tree, Miguel drinks hot chocolate from his mug while your eyes move around the rest of the living room. After the Christmas tree, Miguel brought out other decorations, which resulted in the garland over the fireplace mantle, poinsettias on the coffee table, Christmas lights lining the windows, blankets on the couches paired with decorative pillows in winter colors, and other decorations, including a stocking for each of you with your names embroidered on them. The penthouse has never looked this cozier, that’s for sure. It’s the reason why Miguel and you decided to only spend the weekend away and return the day before Christmas Eve to the penthouse again; neither of you wished to be away from home for Christmas.

-♡-

The next morning, the groceries are packed away and everything from ensuring that the doors are locked to the air conditioner being set the way it needs to is checked before you both head out. With the help of the gizmos, Miguel and you arrive to the location in seconds, where you’re both welcomed by a cold breeze and the crunch of snow beneath your shoes.

Standing side by side, Miguel and you take in the view. The cabin, a single floor space, sits right in front of you. It’s surrounded by tall, majestic trees that seem to be hundreds of years old. The front of it is aesthetically decorated with rounded bushes covered in snow. In fact, almost everything in front of you is covered by snow except for a single path leading up to the cabin’s door. On one side, there’s logs ready to be used for a fireplace and on the other end, wooden chairs surround a fire pit.

“Looks cozy,” you state at last, looking around and realizing your cabin is far away from the rest were members of the spider gang should be staying at.

“It does. I like the pine trees,” Miguel says with a soft smile. “Should we head in?”

“Yes!”

After finding the key under the door mat, Miguel and you enter the cabin, completely missing the cabin’s name found above the door on a metal plaque —Lover’s Cabin.

Once inside, the two of you look around with interest and drinking in the coziness from the warm tones and Christmas decorations, including a Christmas tree, in the living room. You move to check the kitchen, finding it cozy and quaint. After putting the groceries away and becoming acquainted with the kitchen, you finally inspect the bedrooms to select one for your stay.

“You can have this room,” you say after a second or two when you realize the last room is the master’s bedroom since there’s a king size bed and has an en suite bathroom.

“Why?” Miguel asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Bigger bed,” you simply state, as if that alone should make sense. Noticing his raised eyebrow, you continue. “You’re a tall man.”

Miguel snorts, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning on the doorway. “So, just because of my height?”

“Yep! I’ll take the other room, alright?”

“Are you sure?” Miguel asks.

“I’m sure. I’m going to unpack now,” you announce. “And then, we can… Unwind for a little before we do other stuff.”

“No rush. We can figure it out once we unpack, Dulzura,” Miguel replies gently, gazing at you with nothing short of an adoring gaze, even without realizing so.

“Right,” you answer with a smile. “This is meant to be relaxing.”

“And, a bit spontaneous,” Miguel adds, his hand suddenly itching to rest on your shoulder as a form of reassurance. Just when he lifts his hand, however, you walk back to the first bedroom, leaving his hand hanging.

“Alright, let’s unpack,” you eagerly say as you walk away. You glance at him with a smile before you enter your bedroom, unaware of how close Miguel was to making physical contact.

With a quiet yet defeated sigh, Miguel enters his own room carrying his luggage. He unpacks his personal hygiene items first, placing the items in the bathroom, before unpacking his clothes and placing them in the empty dresser. He walks around once he’s done as an attempt to get acquainted with the room and to ensure the windows are locked. At last, he turns to the bed and runs his hand over the bedding, finding it soft. He presses a hand into the mattress, trying to see if it’s going to be comfortable or not just as you walk into the room, missing a slight noise the base and headboard made when he pressed down.

“All unpacked?” Miguel asks straightening up, satisfied with the mattress.

“Yes. You?”

“Same. I was just checking the bedding, making sure it’s comfortable,” he says walking closer to you. “Is everything okay with your room? No issues? We can switch, if you want.”

You shake your head with a smile. “No issues. Everything is fine, so no need to switch on my behalf. You?”

“The room is great,” Miguel answers with a smile, glad to hear that you’ve found your room satisfactory. “So… We're here now. Our little Christmas getaway begins now.”

The vacation begins by settling down in the cozy living room. Miguel starts the fireplace, blankets are unfolded, and books, which you both brought along with you, are taken out. You both settle on a different couch, which you both find much smaller than the ones back at the penthouse, to read for a while. Eventually, you both grow hungry and decide to make brunch in the cabin’s kitchen.

“Do you want to go out? Head to the village?” Miguel asks once you’re both done eating and cleaning the kitchen.

Humming, you look around, thinking. “If you’d like to. Unless you want to do something else and check out the village tomorrow since we’ll be taking Mayday anyway.”

“That’s true,” Miguel answers, remembering that you both offered to look after her to give Peter and Mary Jane a little break, for lack of a better word, since they have a newborn at home and also, to give Mayday a chance to be out of the house, considering Mary Jane is recovering and Peter is taking care of her, while they both look after the baby. “There’s a little bookshop, coffee shop, and an ice skating rink just outside the village — it’s kind of separated from it by a small forest.” Miguel shrugs, smiling softly. “What do you think about a coffee and a visit to the book shop?”

“You know what? That sounds better than snow,” you answer with an excited smile. “You want to head out now?”

“If you’re up for it,” Miguel replies.

“Give me five minutes, please, and we can be on our way!”

“Take your time,” Miguel says, finding your excitement contagious and endearing. “No rush. Today, we’re being spontaneous.”

“Spontaneous,” you repeat. “We’re going with the flow.”

Miguel laughs softly and nods. “We’re going with the flow for this trip.”

After quickly getting ready and dressing appropriately for the weather, Miguel and you leave the cabin and walk on foot to the small area he suggested. The walk is a short one despite the snow and it grants you both a moment of tranquility and fresh air. You even spot squirrels scurrying away with their mouths full, carrying food to their small and cozy homes within trees. When you reach the small area at last, you pause and admire it, guessing that it’s only a small teaser of what the village has in store for you tomorrow.

The first stop is at the welcoming and warm coffee shop, where Miguel, always the gentleman, buys coffee and warm pastries for the two of you. You get on to him for always treating you to things and hardly giving you opportunities to reciprocate, which he chuckles about as you walk to the book shop. Amused with your little frown, he tells you not to worry about it.

Once at the book shop, the two of you browse every shelf high and low for an interesting book to take home with you. By the end of your search throughout the entire shop, you head to pay with Miguel, who carries the shopping basket for the two of you. And of course, Miguel pays before you get a chance to.

“That was a successful book shopping trip,” Miguel states softly once you exit the shop, carrying a reusable bag with everything that you both picked up.

“They had a lot of great options. I’m excited to read every book I picked. You?”

“Same. I got a few sci-fi books, and the others are in genres I don’t read much. I figured I’d give them a try,” Miguel answers as you walk past the ice skating rink. Still walking, Miguel glances back at the sign announcing the entrance and fee. “Would you like to — To go ice skating?” he asks suddenly, making you stop in your tracks.

“Ice skate?” you repeat, glancing at the entrance and reading the sign. You bite the inside of your cheek and turn to look at Miguel again. “I…” you trail off, nervously.

“We don’t have to,” Miguel says, immediately noticing your reluctance. “I simply noticed the sign and thought it sounded fun. I haven’t gone ice skating in forever, but it’s silly. Plus, it’s going to get dark soon and we have the bonfire with our friends, so —” Miguel continues, but is interrupted by you.

“I don’t know how to ice skate,” you gently confess with a bit of embarrassment. “It’s not silly at all. It actually does sound like a lot of fun, but I don’t know how to skate. I always wanted to try it out, but… It’s one of those things that you never make time for.” You smile sheepishly at Miguel. “So, yeah… But! I can watch you! I’d still find it enjoyable to watch.”

“It’s alright. Don’t worry about it,” Miguel answers softly, understanding. “We can go back to the cabin and unwind before the bonfire instead.”

“Please. It sounded like you really want to. Don’t stop on my behalf,” you insist with a smile. “I’d be more than happy to watch you. Maybe I’ll even get inspiration and try to learn as a new year’s resolution.”

Miguel chuckles before he sighs. He glances at the sign and then back at you. “You sure?”

“One hundred percent. Come on,” you say, leading the way.

Inside, Miguel heads to the ticket area to pay and get a pair of skates. While he does that, you settle down on a bench facing the ice rink, excited to see Miguel skate and have fun. A minute or two later, Miguel is at your side again, holding a pair of skates that look far too little for him. Just as you’re about to inquire about that, he kneels in front of you and it’s only then that you realize he’s already wearing a pair.

“Wait — Miguel?” you ask, looking at him a little confused.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Miguel starts, looking at you. “I went ahead and bought a ticket for you, too.”

“But, I don’t know how to skate,” you remind him softly, amused.

“But, I do,” Miguel answers with a soft smirk. “And you said, that by watching me, maybe you’d get inspired to learn, so I thought… Why not start now? If you’re okay with it, of course! I’m not pressuring you, just offering. I’ll guide you.”

Quietly exhaling, you glance at the ice and find it slightly intimidating.

“Hey,” Miguel starts, trying to get your attention again. “It can be a little scary at first, but after a few minutes, you get a little used to it. You just need a guiding and helping hand.”

Smiling, you nod. “Right. It’s like everything else… I… Okay,” you answer, nodding more to yourself for encouragement. “Alright. I’ll try it out.”

“Good, I’m happy to hear that,” Miguel answers with a grin before he gestures to your shoes. “I’ll help you put your skates on.”

“Wha- That’s not necessary! I can put them on myself.”

“It’s no problem, plus,” Miguel says as he begins to fix the shoe laces on the skates while you slip off your shoes. “I tie them in a specific way to ensure they’re truly secure. Sometimes they feel a little loose and tying them the right way makes a big difference.” With that, Miguel helps you put the skates on, despite your shyness about it.

He carefully ties the first one, concentrated on the task while you sit on the bench.

“How come you don’t do that for me?” a woman mumbles behind you from somewhere.

“That’s marriage level,” a man answers.

Curious, you glance back and spot a young couple walk by, exiting the skating rink. You hum to yourself, unsure what the couple were talking about.

“All done,” Miguel says with a smile.

“Thank you,” you answer, looking at the skates now on your feet. You glance up at him, a nervous look on your face. “I suppose… We go now?”

With a grin, Miguel nods. “If you’re ready. Or, we can take a few minutes if you need them. No rush,” he firmly states. “At your own pace.”

You sigh softly, mentally preparing yourself before you nod. “Let’s do this.”

“Are you sure? If you need a few more minutes, that’s more than okay.”

“I think I’m ready,” you insist. “Can we just… Stick to the edge, so I can hold on to the boards?”

Miguel smiles and nods. “Of course. Whatever is more comfortable for you. Ready?” he asks, standing up and extending a hand to you.

You look at him and then at his hand, truly noticing for the first time that he’s wearing the gloves you gifted him the previous year for Christmas. The sight brings a small smile to your face before you accept his hand with your own gloved one, standing up.

“Ready, I think,” you answer, trying to stand very still. “Okay,” you breathe out, unused to the feeling.

“Step like this, look,” Miguel gently guides, demonstrating for you while still holding your hand.

With his demonstration, you slowly but surely make it to the actual ice rink without falling. Miguel, ever the patient man with you, continues to guide you.

“Some people try to walk,” Miguel says. “But skating isn’t like walking because you’re not walking. You’re gliding on the ice. To get the feel, you need to start off by gently marching.” Still holding your gloved hand, Miguel marches, staying near you. “Like this, see?”

“Mhm. I can tell already that you’re — like, pre-gliding.”

Miguel chuckles. “Pre-gliding, that’s right. Okay, do you want to try now?”

You huff softly, out of nerves, and nod. “Yes. Marching, right,” you mumble more to yourself than him. Despite Miguel holding your hand, you still hold on to the boards. “March, march, march,” you whisper, moving your feet. “If I fall, I’m going to try very hard not to use my webs to help myself.” You state, marching shakily.

“I won’t let you fall,” Miguel states with a soft smile. “I’ll catch you. You trust me, right?”

“Yes, of course. I trust you. It’s me I don’t trust in this situation,” you answer. “I feel like I’m one second away from one of my feet gliding a little too far and then, falling on my butt.”

“You won’t fall,” Miguel assures you again, squeezing your hand and surprising you in the process because of it. “I’ll catch you however many times I must. I promise.” He grins at you before he continues on with his lesson. “However, I should probably teach you how to correctly get on the ground if needed, and how to get up again. Safely.”

After showing you those things and having you practice everything he’s taught you, Miguel then shows you how to ‘kick’ your feet off the ice to properly skate. When you successfully skate about fifteen feet or so, Miguel congratulates you.

“Great job! You’re doing amazing, Dulzura,” he proudly says, still holding your hand. “It took me far longer to get used to the gliding, but you — You’re already so much more comfortable with it.”

“Thank you! Your patience and guidance made it possible. I’m no longer as nervous as before. I see why people enjoy this,” you answer. Grinning, you slowly let go of the boards.

“There we go,” Miguel whispers, noticing that you’ve let go and you’re now only holding on to him. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this new experience. It’s a fun activity, and you can even learn tricks when you get more experience.”

“Do you know tricks?” you ask Miguel.

“Mm… Not really. Just spinning around, but it’s been a long time since I’ve skated. I probably can’t even do that now,” he answers with an amused smile. “Plus, I won’t let go of you now that you’ve let go of the boards. Maybe in the future. For now, lets try to circle around the rink — get you more comfortable.”

Continuing to apply what Miguel taught you, you grow more and more comfortable and manage to complete one full lap of gliding around the rink.

“I think… I’d like to try on my own,” you announce when you skate, still slowly, past the rink’s entrance.

“Alright, I’ll loosen my hand, and you can release mine when you’re ready,” Miguel responds, trying to make everything confortable and safe for you. He slowly loosens his grip on your hand and a few seconds later, he feels your hand slip away. With much pride, Miguel watches you skate on your own for the very first time.

“I’m doing it,” you say with a smile as you move. “I’m actually doing it, Miguel.”

“You are.” Miguel answers with a smile. “You’re doing so well,” he continues, keeping up with you and remaining alert, just in case.

You giggle softly and kick your feet a little harder, trying to gain a little more speed.

Unable to stop himself from smiling, Miguel speeds up just a tad to keep up. He watches in awe as you move, the sound of your giggling kindling a fluttering in Miguel’s chest.

“I think I’d like to keep practicing in the future,” you say, looking up at him for a moment. Unfortunately, looking at Miguel distracts you, eliciting a loud gasp from yourself as you feel your foot move in a way it shouldn’t. The sense of falling is barely registered by your brain when strong hands take your arms and hold you steady.

“Tranquila [relax; feminine noun],” Miguel gently mutters, holding you. He helps you straighten up first, trying to make the near accident as calm and smooth as possible. “You’re not falling, remember?” He continues with a small smile as you sigh in relief.

“Yes. You’re not letting me fall,” you answer, your shoulders relaxing slightly after growing tense. You exhale again and gather yourself. “I’m sorry. I got distracted looking at you.”

“Hey, no reason to apologize. Small accidents are going to happen,” Miguel reminds you. “Even those with years under their belt have hiccups.”

You chuckle. “Thank you — for the lesson and for catching me.”

Miguel’s gaze softens as he gazes at you, his hands releasing your arms. “Always,” he answers, wholeheartedly, before his hand moves to yours. “Do you want to do another round? Maybe this time faster?”

“Faster?”

“I'll hold both your hands,” Miguel assures. “And you can experience skating with a little more speed. Only if you're open to it, of course.”

You hum and look around the rink before nodding with a smile. “I'd like that.”

“Hold on tight,” Miguel instructs, offering his other hand and standing in front of you. Once you're holding hands, he begins to skate backwards with ease. “You're doing great.” Miguel praises as you simultaneously follow and allow him to lead, moving your feet. “We're gonna pick up speed now,” he informs to avoid startling you.

“Alright, alright,” you answer, bracing yourself for a different pace, but Miguel does it so carefully that you hardly feel the transition. “Hey, this isn’t so bad!”

Miguel grins, guiding the two of you around the rink. He continues to skate, gently tugging you along. “Having fun?”

“Yes!” You answer, chuckling.

The two of you continue to skate, moving along the ice rink laughing and talking, unaware of strangers’ gazes. The innocent bystanders stop and watch, the sight of you alluding to an intimate, warm, and beautiful romantic connection; the kind that millions and millions of people across the vast multiverse can only ever dream about and wish for.

At last, the two of you reach the entrance, feeling like that round went by much faster than it should’ve.

“Do you wish to keep practicing, or would you like a break? Or, go back to the cabin?” Miguel asks.

“Hmm… How are you feeling?”

“I personally… Would be okay if we return to the cabin, but what about you?”

“Me, too,” you say, moving your feet a bit to ease some tension in them. “I’m kind of tired of wearing the skates.”

“Understandable,” Miguel answers. “Come on, I’ll help you get off the ice rink.”

Along with helping you get out of the ice, Miguel also helps you remove your skates, despite your refusal out of embarrassment, before he returns both pairs. A few minutes later, you’re back on your way to the cabin.

“That was a lot of fun,” Miguel softly starts after a few minutes of silence. “Thank you for indulging me by joining me. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.” Miguel looks at you, carrying the tote bag with books.

“Are you kidding? I loved it!” Smiling, you eagerly continue. “After my initial nervousness, you helped me get over it and simply enjoy the learning experience. For some reason, I thought it was going to be scarier. Maybe that’s why I never actually tried it in the past. I can’t remember if I ever even told Peter that I’d like to learn,” you say, silently trying to remember if there was ever a time you shared that with your boyfriend. “Either way, I loved it. Thank you for suggesting it in the first place, and for teaching me.”

“Always,” Miguel answers with a sweet smile on his face, more than happy that you enjoyed it as much as he did despite how random it was.

“Hey! What are you guys up to?!”

The sudden number of voices startle you both, directing your attention towards them. Hobie, Pav, Margo, Noir, and Penny wave at the two of you.

“Heading back to the cabin!” Miguel answers once he realizes it’s them.

“We’re having a bonfire! Wanna come?!” Hobie yells.

“When?!” you ask.

“… Now!” they all reply, waving you over.

“Are you up for a bonfire?” you ask Miguel, turning to look at him.

“We have marshmallows! Andddddd hot dogs!” another voice says in a singsong voice. Peter Porker.

“Are you interested?” Miguel asks.

“Roasted marshmallows. That’s something I haven’t had in a long, long time.”

“Well, how can we say no to that, then?” Miguel answers with a grin.

“Are you in, or not?!” the group yells.

“We’re in!” Miguel and you yell back in unison.

Half an hour later, Miguel and you sit next to each other toasting marshmallows with mini chocolate bars and graham crackers to make s’mores.

“Dang, how much longer are you guys toasting your marshmallows?” Gwen asks, looking at both of you. “It looks like your marshmallows are going to be burnt.”

“I like mine toasty,” Miguel answers.

“Me, too,” you reply. “Another minute, or two.”

“I think those are beyond toasty,” Gwen responds, but Miguel and you shrug and continue on.

Two minutes later, you’re both assembling your s’mores at last.

“Just perfect,” you mumble, gently squeezing the sandwich and watching the chocolate drizzle down the marshmallow.

After taking a bite, Miguel hums in approval. “It’s great. Nice little dessert after skating.”

“Agree. An unexpected dessert, but so, so good,” you answer.

“You guys went skating?” Hobie asks.

“Mhm,” you hum, eating your s’more.

“I didn’t know you guys know how to skate,” Miles says with interest, earning a few head nods in agreement.

“I don’t — Or, well, I didn’t, but now I have a little bit of experience. Miguel taught me today,” you reveal with a small smile.

“And Dulzura did amazing,” Miguel adds, looking at you with a warm smile — one that seems to be reserved just for you, as far as the spider gang is concerned.

Glances are shared amongst your friends, curious as always. It’s no secret that Miguel and you hold each other in high regard, or that you occupy a place in the heart of the once stoic man. You even have your own nickname, which none of them are even sure where or when it came to be. One day, they simply heard Miguel address you as such and noted the level of comfort and familiarity you had with it, meaning the nickname had had to be a thing for some time.

“Thanks to you,” you answer. “You made it fun and not so scary.”

Smiling at each other, Miguel and you continue to eat your s’mores before you become aware of teasing noises from your friends.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“Nothing,” Miles answers, giving a warning look to the others, but Hobie Brown has other plans.

“You guys are under mistletoe,” Hobie says with a half smirk.

That simple statement makes your heads snap upwards, finding the plant innocently hanging over the two of you from a tree. Neither of you noticed it earlier, somehow, but it’s there — hanging so effortlessly above the two of you, a Christmas symbol for many and one with several meanings, such as peace, goodwill, love, and even fertility. And of course, there’s that one tradition when two people happen to be below it that involves…

Slowly, Miguel and you look away from the mistletoe and at each other once the realization dawns on you. The respectful distance between you suddenly seems shorter, much shorter. Gazing into each other’s eyes, you both sense the continuous teasing, but also curious energy radiating from your friends. Will you kiss?

“I — Um,” Miguel starts, his brain failing to form words.

“Wow, um, we didn’t — didn’t see it earlier,” you stammer, still looking at Miguel before you look away to face your friends. You offer a small smile. “It’s just a silly tradition, right?” you ask, turning to look at Miguel again.

“Yeah — Yeah, it’s an old tradition,” Miguel quickly replies, still looking at you.

“And besides, you know — Miguel, he — We must be respectful of each other. And I mean that for everyone,” you continue, stopping yourself just in time before stating that Miguel isn’t open to physical touch, much less a kiss. “Including you all. So, yeah.”

“If you say so,” Hobie answers before he takes a drink, slightly shaking his head in either disbelief or amusement, who knows.

“In my universe, the ancient Greeks used mistletoe berries to treat some medical conditions, and even as a way to promote fertility,” Margo shares, shifting the focus from you and Miguel.

You exhale softly and take a drink, glad for the distraction Margo has provided. Slowly, you glance at Miguel to gauge his reaction now. You find him staring at the bonfire, what’s left of his s’more forgotten for now.

“Hey,” you whisper, catching his attention.

“Hey,” he replies in a whisper, turning your way.

“You okay?” you ask.

Miguel nods, slowly smiling a bit. “Yes, thank you.” He pauses and looks at his s’more. “I know what you did there, so thank you.” You raise an eyebrow, prompting him to continue. “Without bringing up my physical touch thing, you steered the conversation away,” he explains, whispering. “Thank you for time and time again respecting my boundaries.”

You smile slowly and nod. “Always. I’m not pushing your boundaries over a silly tradition,” you answer, not quite believing the ‘silly’ part, but saying it in hopes of easing any discomfort.

“I wouldn’t say it’s silly,” Miguel gently counters, informing you indirectly that perhaps… He isn’t opposed to participating in the tradition and would kiss you, if the circumstances were different; those being Miguel’s boundaries with physical touch and a worry of disrespecting each other. “It's a fun, old tradition. As long as there's no disrespect.”

“I agree,” you confess. “I said that for you. I didn't want the situation to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” Miguel answers, realizing that that means you'd be open to the tradition, too. “So you… You participate?”

“In the past, yes, but only with Peter,” you share, looking at the bonfire's flames briefly.

“I see,” Miguel responds.

A few seconds later of debating, you watch Miguel lift his hand with his index finger out towards you.

You stare at his finger and then look at him, wondering. Slowly, you raise your own finger to the same height as Miguel's, leaving a few inches of separation.

Smoothly, Miguel moves his finger closer and closer until there’s barely an inch of space left. A second later, his finger moves the rest of the way and ever so gently, presses against yours at the top.

You watch in silence, smiling sheepishly and leaving your finger in place until Miguel slowly retracts his own, about thirty seconds later. Smiling to yourselves and ignored by your friends, who are too busy talking about some celebrity from another universe, you continue to enjoy your s’mores with the silent yet mutual understanding of what that gesture shared between you symbolizes: a kiss underneath the mistletoe.

-♡-

Hours later, Miguel and you are back in your own cabin after the bonfire. After showering to wash away the scent of smoke, dinner was cooked and eaten. Out of nowhere, you surprised Miguel with a little self-care moment that involved matching headbands and treating yourselves with gentle skincare before unwinding with Christmas movies and snacks in the living room; finishing the day in a relaxing manner.

“Good night,” you softly say with a smile once the last movie is over and you've both cleaned up the living room from your activity.

“Good night. Sleep well,” Miguel answers, reciprocating the smile. He enters his own bedroom once he sees you enter your own and heads to the en suite bathroom to do his routine. Once done, Miguel steps out of the bathroom and begins to prepare his bed to sleep, ensuring that your sweatshirt is near him.

He slips off his top and places it at the end of the bed before climbing on it and laying down. Staring at the ceiling, he sighs softly and begins to reflect on the day, thinking to himself how much he enjoyed spending the day with you. Rolling on his side, Miguel smiles to himself as he fondly recalls the day’s activities like the cooking, watching the movie, the relaxing self-care, and the ice skating. It’s then that his thoughts shift to that moment at the bonfire, but before he can reflect on it, he hears a noise coming from his bed.

Already laying on your bed, you’ve barely tucked yourself in when you hear a semi-loud noise from Miguel’s bedroom. The loudness startles you so much you immediately climb out of bed and walk to Miguel’s room.

“Miguel?” you call out, pushing the door open without thinking about asking first. “I’m turning on the light.” Once you locate the light switch, you flick it and freeze at the doorway when you find Miguel’s bed, and him on it, partly on the floor while the other half remains in place. “Are you okay?” you ask, rushing to his side to help him as he begins to move.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just a scratch, I think,” he answers as he maneuvers himself to stand up.

“How did that happened?” you ask in shock, offering your hand just in case Miguel needs help. A second later, Miguel accepts it. You clasp hands, securely, and pull him up before releasing his hand.

“I heard a noise and next thing I know, I’m falling,” Miguel answers, shaking his head in amusement.

You look at him, finding a smile on his face. “I’m surprised you didn’t say anything while it was happening. I would’ve probably cursed out of surprise.”

Miguel chuckles softly. “I did, internally. It happened so fast,” he says, crouching to inspect the damage. “Seems like the base and this side of the headboard cracked.”

“Surely it was broken before we arrived,” you state, crouching next to Miguel to look at the situation. In doing so, you notice the sweatshirt you gave Miguel earlier this week for his sleep, still clinging to the half hanging mattress. “It seems the owners failed to catch this.”

“It appears so,” Miguel answers in amusement as you both continue to look at the broken bed.

You sigh softly just as you notice that there are several spots on the wall where the paint has chipped off, right about where the top of the headboard lines up. Your mouth parts slightly as you realize what the reason must be for that.

“Oh,” Miguel quietly mutters, his gaze on the wall, too. He hadn’t noticed that before until now, and now that he does, his cheeks flush as he realizes.

“Umm... You said you got a scratch?” you ask, shifting the conversation.

Miguel turns to look at you, his cheeks still red. “It’s probably nothing,” he says, lifting his bicep to check. “I think I hit it against the nightstand in my attempt to catch myself.”

“Here, let me see,” you gently request.

“It really is nothing,” Miguel answers, standing up.

“It doesn’t hurt to check,” you reply, keeping your eyes on Miguel’s face because he’s shirtless.

“Alright, alright,” Miguel murmurs softly before he shows you his bicep, which immediately earns himself a frown from you. “It’s not that bad.”

“There’s blood,” you reply, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll find a first aid kit. Please sit down… “ you trail off and look around the room, searching for a chair or something for him to sit on. “There,” you gesture once you locate a wing back armchair near the dresser. Without giving Miguel a chance to decline your help, you head to his bathroom in search of the kit. Thankfully, you find one under one of the sinks. “Alright, I found one.” You announce, leaving the bathroom and walking straight to Miguel, who is sitting on the chair just like you asked him to.

“It’s truly fine, Dulzura,” Miguel insists just as you kneel at his side. He looks away for a few seconds, finding it unnecessary for you to give him this much attention to the point you’re on your knees. “It’s just a small scratch.”

“I said that to you many months ago. On Father’s Day when I hurt myself, remember?” you say, opening the first aid kit and looking for the right supplies. “It was just a scratch and you still tended to it.”

“That’s…” he starts, but trails off because he was about to tell you that that situation was different.

“Please… Just let me,” you gently say, looking up at him.

“I — Okay,” Miguel answers, staring back at you and finding it impossible to refuse your care and attention any longer. He swallows softly, his maroon eyes gazing over your face. “Alright, thank you… Thank you, Dulzura.”

You smile sweetly at Miguel before you begin checking the wound. “It’s pretty long,” you state. “May I…?” You look up again, referring to touching him.

“Yes,” Miguel replies quietly.

You nod before gently cleaning the bit of blood present. Your fingers touch his skin respectfully, always polite of Miguel’s boundaries.

Miguel looks away a few seconds later and stares at the broken bed while you continue to work. He flexes the fingers from his free arm over and over again, feeling your fingers on his skin and trying not to think about how pleasant your touch is.

“All clean,” you murmur. “Luckily, it’s not a deep scratch, but it’s still good to make sure.” You search through the kit to find some kind of ointment, something to alleviate any discomfort and help boost the healing process before turning to face him again, the situation reminding you of last year, when you tended to much worse injuries on Miguel’s body. At that, your face softens and your gaze sweeps over Miguel’s torso, easily spotting those old scars. The itch to trace them suddenly overwhelms you, a need to physically feel them to assure yourself they’re truly only scars and no longer wounds in need of attention.

Of course, you don’t; doing so would be far too intimate and would disrespect Miguel’s boundaries. Internally, you tell yourself to focus as you begin to softly apply the ointment to Miguel’s scratch. You focus on that for a moment before your gaze strays away for a few seconds, despite yourself, to Miguel’s physique, noting and remembering details of Miguel’s body; his tan skin, the scars that were once wounds tended by you, the scars that were already there before, the multiple lines defining muscles from years of physical activity, and the soft trail of hair leading down to Miguel's —

You swallow and look away, scolding yourself for noticing silly things. Instead, you focus on how the ointment melts into Miguel's warm skin as you apply it, his warmth seeping into your own.

“Looks good. It should heal quickly,” you say, clearing your throat and reluctantly removing your hand from Miguel.

Miguel glances at you as you begin to place everything you used back in the kit. “I'm sure it'll be good by tomorrow morning. Thank you, I appreciate it, Dulzura,” he says, offering you a warm smile.

“Always,” you answer looking up at him again, reciprocating the smile. Standing up, you turn to the bed, the sight of it reminding you that Miguel can't sleep here now.

At the same time, Miguel looks at it. He stands up and approaches the bed, pulling the comforter off before he grabs a pillow. “I need to set up the couch,” he states, pulling a blanket, too.

“The couch?” Your eyebrows raise as you think about the couch and how uncomfortable it is already compared to a bed. You imagine it'd be triple the discomfort for Miguel due to his build. “That's not gonna be comfortable for you,” you say. “Have my room instead. I'll take the couch.”

“Wha— No, no, no. That's kind of you, but no way.” Miguel shakes his head, speaking firmly while holding the bedding in his arms. “I'm not letting you sleep on the couch.”

“I'll be fine. It'll be far more comfortable for me than you,” you argue.

“Dulzura, thank you, but no. I'm not taking the bed and letting you sleep on the couch. I'm a gentleman,” Miguel softly, but firmly continues to decline.

“But—” you start, trying to convince Miguel.

“Please, no buts. You sleep on the bed. I wouldn't even be able to sleep knowing you're in the living room.”

“I've slept in the living room at the penthouse before. Many times.”

“This is different, you know that,” he replies with a small smirk. “I appreciate you trying to accommodate me, but there's no way I'm doing that.”

Huffing, you follow Miguel to the living room and watch as he begins to set up his pillow. You suddenly think of something, but you're not sure Miguel will be comfortable with that idea. He might even find it inappropriate. With a sigh, you dare voice your idea. “What if — Um…” You trail off, building up the courage. “If you're comfortable with it, would you be okay with just, you know,” you continue, shrugging to downplay the offer. “We could share,” you finally say, quickly.

Miguel’s eyes widen slightly and you almost swear he clutches the blanket a little tighter. “Share… Share what?”

“You know,” you reply, gesturing to your room. “I wouldn’t mind. I’m comfortable with you because you know, you’re… You’re a gentleman,” you say, softly. “And I trust you, one hundred percent. Wholeheartedly.” Clearing your throat, you look away, afraid you’ve pushed too far with your offer, even if it’s out of kindness. “But, well… I know maybe you’re not at that level of comfort with me, which is understandable,” you quickly say, not trying to guilt Miguel into it. “Whether it’s because we — you know. Us being a man and a woman. Not that I think a man and a woman can’t lay tog—” you stop rambling and sigh. “You know what I’m trying to say. Or, because we would be, closer and we might touch, so…” you trail off again, realizing you probably look like a fool in front of Miguel with your rambling. Maybe you should’ve just kept the idea to yourself. “I understand if you don’t want to, that’s what I’m trying to say, however, if you wish to, that’s an option. It’s up to you.” You gently conclude, deciding that’s the best way to explain it. “I’ll be in the room, if you need something, or if you — You know.” You nod at Miguel. “So, yeah… Good night.”

“Thank you. Good night,” Miguel answers softly, feeling like a deer caught in headlights due to your offer to share the bed.

You walk back to your room and stand next to your bed for a few seconds, almost in a daze. For some reason, you discover that your heart is racing. You finally climb back into bed after shaking your head as an attempt to clear your mind and based on the silence that follows, you assume that Miguel has decided to sleep on the couch after all. Turning on your side, you pull the covers higher over you, preparing to go to sleep after Miguel’s bed breaking. Several minutes later, you hear Miguel’s footsteps.

“You awake?” Miguel whispers.

“Mhm. Still awake. Is everything okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, I just…” Miguel trails off. He’s not sure if you can make out his figure in the mostly dark bedroom, but he looks around shyly. “It turns out, I don’t fit on the couch.”

“Oh,” you softly respond. “Your legs?”

“Yeah, they’re hanging off the couch, so… I was wondering…”

Smiling softly, you turn on the lamp on the nightstand closest to you. You find Miguel standing near the doorway, still shirtless. “I can imagine. Do you want to bring your pillow, or are these okay?” you ask, gesturing to the free pillows on the other side of your bed, unused.

Miguel’s body relaxes, as if he was worried that your kind offer was no longer on the table. “Those should be fine, thank you.”

You nod. “Alright, then… If you need nothing else, you can — You know.”

“Right,” Miguel answers shyly, his cheeks feeling hot as he moves around the bed to the other side. With his long strides, it doesn’t take Miguel long to reach the empty side of the bed. He looks at it and then at you, noticing an equally shy expression on your face.

Noting the shyness in Miguel, you offer a warm and reassuring smile to encourage him, which seems to do the trick.

Gently pulling the covers on his side of the bed, Miguel climbs in, careful not to disturb you too much. He lays on his back before pulling the covers up again. Once settled, he turns to face you, giving you a small smile. “Thank you, and I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience. Please… Don’t hesitate to tell me if I make you uncomfortable,” Miguel gently says. “I'll get off the bed, no questions asked.”

You chuckle softly. “You’re forgetting I’m the one that offered and also what I told you. I trust you,” you murmur.

“I trust you, too,” Miguel whispers. “I just… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in the aspect that you mentioned earlier.” He looks away for a few seconds. “In that you’re a woman and I’m a man, but also because you’re like me,” he says, turning to look back at you with a sheepish smile. “We’re not used to sharing a bed. I don’t want to disturb your sleep and rest because you don’t have the bed all to yourself.”

“I’ll be perfectly fine,” you answer with amusement. “But, I appreciate your concern for my beauty sleep.”

“Not that you need it,” Miguel answers without thinking, still wearing that sheepish smile.

You hum, your cheeks feeling warm suddenly. “Oh, thank you,” you whisper, looking away.

Of course, Miguel notices your shy reaction to his words, inspiring a blooming warmth and fuzzy feeling in his chest. “Always,” Miguel whispers, still grinning.

You clear your throat and pull the covers slightly higher to hide your face. “Good night, Migs,” you whisper, turning off the nightstand lamp.

“Buenas noches, Dulzura [good night],” Miguel murmurs, still watching you. “Dulces sueños [sweet dreams].” Miguel turns away and closes his eyes, laying next to you.

Trying to fall asleep, thoughts of your current position comes to mind for the two of you. Is this strange? You’ve both laid next to each other before, even shared a blanket and pillows, but that was different. All those times, it’s been on the living room floor, not a bed, and for some reason, the bed makes it more… Intimate.

It's not strange, right? Best friends have sleepovers and share a bed all the time.

Rolling to your other side, facing away from Miguel, you decide it’s normal. It’s totally normal… Except, the last time you shared a bed was with Peter, your Peter, and that was years ago. The thing is, you don’t find it uncomfortable, even if he’s a man and you’re a woman. Instead, you find Miguel’s presence next to you new, yet insanely pleasant. His body warmth seems to call to you, to move closer and take a dip in it. You close your eyes and try to ignore it, certain that you’re simply immensely exhausted from the fun day you both had and now having strange thoughts.

Next to you, Miguel opens his eyes and stares into the darkness. There’s some distance between you two and yet, the combination of your personal hygiene items and your very own scent embrace him, like a blanket of constellations welcoming him home. He suddenly remembers that he left your sweatshirt in the bedroom and realizes that if he had stayed in the living room, he would’ve already gone back to retrieve it, but being here with you now, within hand’s reach, he has no need for it since he's next to you, his sleep remedy.

Minutes later, Miguel hears your breathing slow down, signaling your slumber and promising his to come. Focusing on the gentle sound, Miguel rolls on his side, facing your back. Despite the darkness, he can make out your figure, so close, yet with a respectful distance still in place. Once more, Miguel’s fingers flex; close, open, close, open. They itch, to reach and touch.

Miguel slightly shakes his head, ignoring the strange need. He closes his eyes and focuses on your breathing again, finding it easy to find sleep, as always, with you near him.

-♡-

When Miguel wakes up, he’s immediately aware of a pleasant presence next to him. It’s soft, warm, and their scent — Miguel wants nothing more than to bury his face into them and further inhale that lovely essence. Still half asleep and with his eyes closed, Miguel moves closer to the presence, allowing himself to be lulled in this moment of vulnerability.

“Mmm,” Miguel hums in appreciation once the scent is closer, once the warmth feels like it’s become his own. His arm tightens around said presence; wanting it closer, closer, closer.

His eyes slowly open, needing a moment to adjust to the bits of light streaming through the windows’ blinds. With his brain barely waking up, it takes Miguel several seconds to realize: his arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

As the realization dawns on him, Miguel’s arm remains around you, even when his mouth slightly parts in surprise at his own actions. Despite the shock, Miguel doesn’t remove his arm right away. He leaves it there instead and gazes at you, at your sleepy face.

Miguel drinks in the sight of you, one that’s not entirely new to him for he’s had the absolute pleasure and privilege of witnessing so many times before. Still, for some reason, in this moment in this little cabin in the middle of a forest with snow all around, the sight feels different. There’s your eyelashes and the way they brush against the top of your cheeks, your lips, the peaceful and almost innocent-like look on your face, and how utterly and unquestionably endearing, lovely, and beautiful you look.

Miguel continues to observe you, almost in a trance, even as you stir. He watches you exhale softly, snuggling further into the pillows before going still again.

It’s then that it dawns on Miguel that he ought to remove his arm from you. It’s not appropriate, is it? He’s a gentleman. He was raised to be one, and so, Miguel reluctantly removes his arm from you, instantly missing everything about it from the softness to the warmth of your body.

As if sensing the absence of his touch, you stir again and this time, Miguel can tell you’ll be waking up. You hum softly, eyes fluttering before they focus on the man next to you. “Miguel,” you murmur sleepily. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Dulzura,” Miguel murmurs. “Did you sleep well?” He asks, wondering if he disturbed your sleep at some point during the night.

“Mmm, yes. I did,” you answer, covering your mouth to yawn. “I slept very well.”

“That’s a relief,” Miguel says. “I was worried I… I don’t know. Kicked you in my sleep, or something.”

That makes you snort softly. “If you had, I wouldn’t be in bed right now. Probably.”

“Not funny,” Miguel responds in a slightly playful way, yet he’s not amused with the idea of you being hurt, especially by him.

“There was no kicking, or anything,” you assure him.

Except Miguel did have his arm around you when he woke up, but you’re not aware of that innocent fact.

Remembering that, Miguel clears his throat. “… I need to tell you something,” he says, sitting up to give you space.

“Oh… Is something wrong?” you ask, worried you possibly did something to offend him during your sleep. Your brain quickly goes through the worst scenarios, like you getting too close to him, or saying something inappropriate.

“Not exactly? It’s something I did,” Miguel continues, watching you sit up as well. “I just want to be honest.”

You nod, clasping your hands together and waiting.

“I didn’t kick you,” Miguel starts. “But… When I woke up, I had my arm — around you — around your waist,” Miguel confesses, his cheeks red. He curls his fingers around the bedding, waiting for your reaction and finding surprise, but no negative emotion.

“It was?” you ask softly, thinking. Somewhere during the night, you vividly remember feeling the weight of it, yet you were more asleep than anything. “I felt it during the night.” You announce quietly, trying to recall the short blurry memory.

Miguel’s eyebrows shoot up. That means he held you for far longer than he thought. “I’m sorry,” Miguel states a few seconds after recovering from the news. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t know what got to me.”

Smiling, you shake your head. “You don’t have to apologize. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Really. In fact,” you pause, looking away out of embarrassment and a bit of shame. “I may have… Touched your arm, too.”

“I don’t mind,” Miguel quickly admits because he recognizes your emotions and he doesn’t want you to feel like that. Besides, the truth is that he doesn't mind one bit that you touched him. In fact, he hasn’t minded your touch on previous occasions when physical contact has been needed or has happened out of spontaneity. “It's the truth. And it's only expected.” Miguel continues, reassuring you so you stop feeling negatively when it was him who clearly initiated physical contact during his sleep. “I did have my arm around you, so, it's only expected you would touch it. And there's no reason to be… Embarrassed about it,” he gently adds, giving you a warm and soft smile when you look at him again.

You smile back and nod, slowly feeling less embarrassed about it. “I’m glad you don’t feel upset,” you reply, unclasping your hands.

“Not in the slightest,” Miguel answers reassuringly. “And you…?” Miguel asks, just to be certain.

“No, not at all,” you reply. “Not at all.” You glance at the windows, noticing the sun’s rays. “We should get ready for the day. We’re looking after Mayday today.”

“Right,” Miguel answers, remembering. “I almost forgot.” He sighs softly, feeling good about being honest with you regarding what happened and relieved that you both handled it so well. With the day ahead of you two, Miguel decides to move on from the moment for now and start the day by leaning back to stretch.

Next to him, your gaze moves over to Miguel, landing on his chest before it dips to his abdomen. It’s impossible not to notice the way his body moves, or how the sunlight caresses his bare skin. You look away, remembering it’s incredibly rude to stare, just as Miguel climbs out of bed. You find yourself staring again as he stretches once more, his back popping and back muscles rippling.

Again, you look away and finally get out of bed to start the day. The two of you quickly make the bed before you head into your respective bathrooms to get ready.

An hour later, both Miguel and you find yourselves in Mary Jane and Peter’s home.

“We seriously cannot thank you enough,” Peter B. says as he carefully hands Mayday’s backpack to Miguel since you’re already holding his daughter’s hand. “Mary Jane and I appreciate it so much.” He says, exhaustion visible on his face.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Miguel asks, voicing your own thoughts.

“No, no. We’re good, thank you. You offering to take Mayday with you for the day, having her have a day out means so much to us. Mary Jane and I have hardly left the house, which means so has little Mayday,” Peter answers. “Mary Jane is still recovering and with it being cold, we don’t want to take Benjamin out either. I’ve gone out to get groceries and the such to distract Mayday a little, but that’s nothing compared to our routine from before. Today will make her so happy.”

You offer him a smile, gently patting his shoulder. “We’re happy to help, and if you need something else, please don’t hesitate to let us know.”

“Thank you,” Peter answers, smiling despite his exhaustion. “Thank you so much. If you guys need anything or have questions, or need to bring Mayday back earlier, please don’t hesitate either. We’ll understand.”

“We’ll return at the agreed time, don’t worry. She’s safe with us. You guys do what you need to do with little Benjamin, and take care of Mary Jane. If she needs medical attention or support, the infirmary is always open,” Miguel states, reminding Peter of that resource.

“Thank you, thank you,” Peter sighs. “It means a lot. We’ll keep it in mind, if necessary.”

“Say bye to your dad, Mayday! You’ll be back in a few hours,” you say, still holding Mayday.

“Bye, daddy!” Mayday eagerly says, waving bye.

“Bye, sweetheart. I’ll see you in a little bit,” Peter says with a smile, walking closer to gently pinch her cheek. “Be a good girl for uncle Miggle and aunt Y/N,” he adds, earning himself a scoff from Miguel at the silly nickname Mayday gave him some time ago.

“Alright, we’re heading out,” Miguel says. “Rest as much as you can, Peter.”

“Thanks, pal. I’ll try. Have fun, guys. Be safe, please!” Peter says, watching you leave with his daughter for the day.

Back to your vacation spot, the three of you step out of the portal and into the cold. You immediately feel Mayday shiver at the change of temperature, so you hold her closer and adjust her puffy jacket to keep her warm. “Gotta keep you warm,” you murmur as you move on to fix her beanie.

“It might be too cold for her,” Miguel says, slinging the backpack on one of his shoulders and stepping closer to help.

“She did shiver just now, so I’m adjusting her clothes to make sure she’s as warm as possible, right, Mayday?” you murmur softly, unable to stop yourself from being so affectionate with her. “Alright, all warm for now.”

“First activity for the day?” Miguel asks to confirm, still carrying the backpack.

“We have Mayday, so, yes,” you reply with a chuckle. “Let’s just hope she likes what we’ve planned for her today.”

Miguel laughs softly as you both begin to walk over the snow. “I’m sure we can figure something out if the day’s activities are not to her taste.”

With another chuckle, you both continue to walk to your destination. All the while, Mayday looks around with excitement, even though it’s just a bunch of snow and trees all around for several minutes until the three of you reach the small and cute village. The three of you look around for a moment to take in the village, realizing it’s one of those villages that goes over the top with Christmas decorations everywhere.

“It’s cute,” you state as you near your destination by following signs.

“Mhm, it reminds me of those movies my mom used to watch when Gabriel and I were kids,” Miguel answers. “Some of which are so… Predictable, but still fun to watch. I guess.”

You snort softly. “What? You don’t like those movies?”

Miguel shrugs as you both keep walking. He looks over at you and then at Mayday, who is too busy looking at everything to pay either of you attention. He can’t blame her, though, he supposes this is like a kid’s dream. For a few seconds, he thinks of his little Gabby and how she would’ve loved today’s activities. With an exhale, Miguel gently pulls himself back to the present after silently sending his child an ‘I love you’. “I just think… Some of them are both predictable and problematic, so I can’t watch them without thinking about that.”

“Do go on,” you press. “Please?”

Miguel smiles. “Well, when I say that, I’m talking about those movies where there’s a successful character in the city. Typically, it’s a woman. She has a partner and it all seems to be going well in her life. For example, she has a big work promotion coming up because she’s been killing it in her career through hard work and she has all these nice things, like a luxurious car and apartment, but then, she goes back to where she came from for whatever reason. Some far away place from the city that she left a few years ago and hasn’t visited in x number of years because she’s been busy, and this is sometimes right after discovering that her boyfriend has been cheating on her,” Miguel says, definitely getting into it.

Now, with her not visiting her parents… I’d be hurt if my kid hadn’t visited in so long, but then again, the parents could also travel to her.” Miguel continues with furrowed eyebrows. “Actually, I had never thought about that. Everybody always judges the person who went away, but the parents could also visit… Hm. Well, anyway.” Miguel shakes his head, trying to focus and not ramble. “She goes back to some small town where it looks like Santa Claus threw up all over the place. Like… Here. Anyway, she gets judged left and right by people that knew her growing up. You know, giving her backhanded compliments. Like, ‘oh, I hear you’re getting a promotion, but your boyfriend just cheated on you, so how successful are you really, then?’ They have that kind of attitude.”

You nod, paying attention and trying not to grin too hard at how passionate Miguel seems about this topic.

“And it’s like, wait, what does that have to do with her romantic life? It’s like they’re saying her boyfriend cheated on her because she’s ‘too’ successful. It’s so annoying. What message is it sending to women and young girls? Not a good one, for sure,” Miguel says shaking his head in disapproval. “Well, she’s there in town and then,” Miguel says with an exasperated sigh. “She runs into her previous boyfriend, probably high school sweetheart, who she loved so much, but when she brought up the idea of moving to the city years prior, he didn’t support it because he’s a small town man. He imagined spending his entire life in that place, which is fine, but the female protagonist didn’t want that life. She wanted something different, so they ended up breaking up because of the woman’s decision to pursue their dreams.”

“As they should,” you add.

“Exactly. As they should,” Miguel affirms. “But then, they run into each other in the present and it’s painfully awkward because they haven’t seen each other since the breakup and old wounds are open. Despite the woman trying to keep her distance, fate, or perhaps due to the townspeople who meddle too much, she can’t seem to escape the man and they’re stuck in this forced proximity for half the movie, and you can tell the guy is still upset over the girl’s decision. Anyway, it ends with the woman apparently ‘realizing’ she’s not happy in the city, never has been. And she decides, just from spending like three days in her old town, that she wants to move back and take on the family business she didn’t initially want to be a part of, and resigning from her job. Oh, and she ends up with the old boyfriend. The end,” Miguel finishes. “It’s repeated so much. How about we make the man realize he’s not happy in his town like he thought he would, and is the one who leaves to go live in the city with his successful partner? I’d like to see that instead.”

“You know… You’re right. I don’t think I’ve watched a movie like that, now that you mention it. There should be one like that,” you answer.

“That’s why I don’t like those especially. The other ones, they’re good,” Miguel says with a chuckle. “Oh, look. We’re here.” Miguel gestures ahead, directing your attention.

You grin at the sight and point for Mayday to look. “Look, Mayday! Over there.”

Expectantly, Miguel and you wait for Mayday’s reaction to the first activity of the day: petting and feeding reindeer. Thankfully, her reaction doesn’t disappoint.

“Reindeer! Santa Claus’s sleigh,” she says grinning from ear to ear.

“Yes, mija [my daughter]. Those are Santa Claus’s reindeer,” Miguel replies with a small smile. “Want to pet them?”

“Yes! Can I pet the reindeer? Please?”

“You may, but you must be gentle, okay?” Miguel answers, establishing that boundary immediately for both her safety and the animals’.

You watch in awe, always surprised to see Miguel fall into that fatherly energy so effortlessly, further convincing you that Miguel was meant to be a father in this life.

“Come on,” Miguel says, smiling.

After paying and listening to the instructions, the three of you are in front of reindeer with other people. A worker provides information about them, from how fast they can run and how they differentiate from other deer species along with other interesting information.

With glee, Mayday watches everything from some of the reindeer peacefully eating to others walking, but her favorite part seems to be when she has the opportunity to pet and give snacks to one.

“It’s so fluffy,” she says, gently petting the animal’s head. “Like a dog.”

Miguel and you turn to look at each other, smiling.

“And so cute,” you state, carefully petting the gorgeous reindeer.

“Fluffy and cute,” Miguel murmurs, petting it himself after a few seconds of debating it. He gently pats it with a sigh, once again thinking about Gabby and how she would’ve enjoyed this. Knowing her, Gabby would’ve asked for a book about reindeer to learn more about them afterwards.

“Aww,” you coo softly when you see the reindeer close their eyes and nudge their head into Miguel’s hand, apparently enjoying the petting. “Seems like they like you. Probably because of your warmth.”

“My warmth?” Miguel questions, looking over at you.

“Yeah,” you answer with a shrug as you gently pet the side of the reindeer’s face. “You’re naturally warm. I’m sure they find your warmth… Nice.” Nice? You almost facepalm and wonder why you’re even thinking about Miguel’s body warmth. Feeling embarrassed, you change the subject and gesture to a calf. “Look, a baby reindeer,” you say, successfully shifting the attention, though Miguel glances at you even after the fact.

After another half an hour, the three of you leave with Mayday, who happily carries a reindeer plushie that Miguel bought her on the way out. Together, you walk around the village to see all the decorations and the more you walk, the more it feels like you’re all in a Christmas movie set.

“We’re only missing the love interests,” you joke when Miguel mentions that, too.

“And the meddling friend group who must be running around here somewhere,” Miguel answers with a chuckle. “How about some brunch?” Miguel asks when the scent of food from a diner reaches you.

“Actually… I could eat something right now. What about you, Mayday? Are you hungry?”

“Yes, I’m hungry. Can I have waffles?”

Miguel and you laugh quietly at the innocent question.

“We’ll see if they sell some in there, alright? I’m sure they do,” you assure Mayday, taking her hand again to head inside.

Warmth and the delicious scent of diner food immediately welcomes the three of you when you step inside. Looking around for an empty booth, Miguel and you spot a few spider people neither of you were expecting to see here, in this exact universe and location.

“I didn't know other people were coming,” you say once the three of you are sitting at the booth, including Mayday’s plushie by Miguel's side.

“I didn't either,” Miguel answers, glancing at the group and quickly identifying them.

At the same time, Ben Reilly, Malala Windsor, Max Borne, Anya Corazón, and another member you only know as Spider-Canada, turn to look at the three of you.

Making eye contact with them, Miguel and you nod as a form of greeting, receiving nods and hand waves, before looking over the menu and ordering. Thankfully for Mayday, the diner sells waffles, so Miguel orders her some along with a cup of milk.

Once you're all done eating, you take Mayday to the restroom again to wash her hands, only to run into Ben when you walk out.

“Y/N,” Ben starts, looking surprised to have run into you. “How are you doing?” he asks, offering a smile.

“Hey, I'm doing great. We've been enjoying walking around the village. You?” You ask, holding Mayday’s hand, who looks up at Ben with curious eyes.

“Good. I'm doing good. We've also been sightseeing.” Ben answers while scratching his neck, pink dusting his cheeks as he stares at you before turning to look at the kid. He offers an awkward smile to Mayday before looking back at you. “You and Miguel babysitting for Peter?”

“Yes. We offered since Mary Jane and Peter just had — Their baby,” you reply, remembering that their newborn is named Benjamin, just like Ben. You suddenly wonder how Ben feels about that and the fact that Peter looks so similar to him. “So, Miguel and I figured that we could look after Mayday for the day, and give her a fun day here.”

“That’s kind of you and Miguel. I’m sure Peter and his wife appreciate the gesture, and the little kid, too,” Ben states. “Where are you guys staying?”

“We’re staying in a cabin. It’s a few minutes from the village by foot,” you answer. “All my friends rented cabins there, too, so we’re all within walking distance.”

“Oh, you’re not all staying in the same cabin?”

“No, we’re staying in different cabins. Miguel and I are staying in one, and the rest of my friends are in two others.”

“Oh, you and Miguel are in one,” Ben repeats slowly, briefly glancing in Miguel’s direction, who is looking the other way, before turning to look back at you. “Well… I hope that you’re enjoying the cabin.”

“We are, thank you. It’s so cozy. Where are you and your friends staying at?”

“The inn. It’s just down the street,” Ben explains. “It’s a nice place. Cozy.”

You smile, “I can imagine. This place seems so magical. I’m certain that every building and crevice of this village is cozy and welcoming.”

“Uncle Miggle,” Mayday says next to you. “He’s waiting on us. Can we go?”

“We’re going, Mayday,” you answer before turning your attention to Ben. “Well, we’ll see you around, Ben. I hope you and your friends continue to enjoy the holiday trip.”

“Thank you, Y/N. You, too,” Ben replies, smiling again. “See you at work after Christmas!”

“See you!” You reply before Mayday and you both walk past Ben to return to Miguel. “We’re back,” you say once you reach Miguel.

“You guys ready to go?” Miguel asks.

“Yes. Let’s go ahead and pay.”

“I’ve already paid, don’t worry about it, Dulzura,” Miguel answers with a small grin, standing up. He quickly puts on his coat and helps Mayday with hers while you slip on your own.

In no time, the three of you exit the diner only for you to realize that Mayday isn’t wearing her beanie. “Wait, her beanie is missing. It must have fallen off the booth.”

“I’ll go get it,” Miguel states, but you shake your head.

“It’s alright. I’ll go get it. Be right back,” you announce, turning on your heel and walking back the short distance to the diner. Inside, you quickly return to your booth and find the beanie hanging from one side, where Mayday was sitting. You pick it up and head back, running into Ben right at the door while his friends are off to the side, looking at a wall with decorations.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes, I’m alright. Are you okay?” Ben asks, looking you up and down, as if to ensure you’re okay.

“Yep, I’m okay. Sorry, I guess I was moving too fast, I didn’t see you there,” you answer with a chuckle as Ben opens the door for you, allowing you to exit first. As you step out, you hear him chuckle, too.

“It’s alright. It happens sometimes,” he says behind you before he finds himself next to you with a small grin, right in front of the diner’s door. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, no worries,” you answer, reassuringly. “It was more the surprise of running into someone.”

It’s Ben’s chuckling that captures Miguel’s attention while he holds Mayday’s hand for her safety. He turns around when he hears it, finding you next to Ben. For some reason, he’s unable to look away from the interaction, making it the sole reason why Miguel even notices Ben looking up for a single second. Curious, Miguel’s gaze travels upwards, only to find a mistletoe hanging over the diner’s doorway, right above the two of you.

Miguel’s eyes quickly dart back to Ben, who is looking at you once more, and sees an idea form in his head — a light bulb go on.

An idea has formed in Ben’s head and it leaves Miguel frozen in place for a second, just a mere second. His chest fills with a heavy and distressing feeling, spreading like vines. Somewhere in his mind, Miguel is aware that he’s holding his breath, as if he’s bracing himself for something heart-shattering.

The heavy and distressing feeling continues to grow within Miguel, much like the idea in Ben’s head. Miguel’s suspicions are confirmed, or at least he thinks so, when he sees the other Spider-Man reach for your arm.

It’s instinct — pure instinct from somewhere within Miguel — that leads to his free hand shooting out. In the blink of an eye, a string of neon red web travels from him to you, and wraps itself around your torso. Still led by instinct, Miguel tugs you towards him and away from Ben, who was just milliseconds from touching your arm.

One second, you’re next to Ben and the next, you’re flying across the short distance and in front of Miguel, who carefully catches you by your arms, holding you steady.

“Miguel,” you breathe out, shocked. “What happened?”

“I —” Miguel starts, desperately trying to think of a reason for his actions when he can’t even begin to decipher why he’s done what he did. He stares at you, his eyebrows furrowed and chest heaving while he continues to gently hold you by your arms. Miguel searches his brain for an answer. Why did he do that? Why? “I — I can explain,” Miguel says, even though he has no explanation.

“Icicles!” Mayday exclaims next to the two of you.

Miguel looks up, finding icicles over the doorway you were just under, which he hadn’t noticed before.

“Icicles,” Miguel repeats, clearing his throat as he looks back at you, still holding you by your arms. “It looked like one was about to break off and fall on you.”

You look behind you with wide eyes, confirming that there are icicles. “I didn’t notice them,” you confess. “Thank you. Hey, Ben! Watch out for the icicles!” you call out to Ben, who for some reason, looks displeased. Maybe it’s the cold, or the news of icicles, you think to yourself.

“Thanks for the warning!” he calls back, looking at Miguel for a few seconds with that same look of displeasure. He waves bye before he’s joined by his friends.

Miguel sighs, slowly releasing your arms and stepping back. The sinking and heavy feeling in his chest slowly dissipates, and seeing Ben walk away from the diner with his friends, heading in the opposite direction of where you all should be heading next, helps even more.

“Whew, thank goodness you noticed. We should probably tell the owners about it,” you say, looking back at the diner, completely unaware of what just transpired.

“Yeah,” Miguel answers, feeling like he can breath normally again with the distance between Reilly and you growing. “I’ll go tell them. You stay here with Mayday. I’ll be right back, okay?” Miguel says, not wanting you or Mayday to walk past the icicles again.

“Alright, just be careful, please,” you answer softly, a hint of worry on your face.

“I will, don’t worry. I’ll be right back,” Miguel responds before he heads back to the diner to notify someone about the icicles situation. Still feeling off by what just happened, Miguel shortly returns to you and Mayday. “I told one of the workers, so that should take care of it,” Miguel announces. “Should we head back to the cabin, or would you like to go somewhere else?”

“I think with what almost happened, I’d like to go back to the cabin,” you truthfully answer with a small smile. “Besides, we have some fun activities to do with Mayday there.”

“True,” Miguel answers. “Let’s head back, then.” Miguel sighs to himself as you all begin to walk, trying to figure out the mess in his head, but he can’t make anything out of it.

He did a good thing, right?

Miguel subtly glances at you as he asks himself that. What he did was a good thing, or at least Miguel thinks so. Ben was going to try and kiss you because of the mistletoe tradition. There’s no doubt about that in Miguel’s mind; it was obvious and he could smell it from a mile away. And you… Miguel steals a glance at you again just as you tell Mayday something.

You were so oblivious to it, to Ben’s intentions. Miguel doesn’t know how Ben was going to do it. Was he going to tell you about the mistletoe and hint for a kiss, or hope that you offered one instead? Or, was he going to steal a kiss from you without your consent? The simple idea of Ben kissing you without your consent, especially when you don’t carry yourself like that, upsets Miguel. Just yesterday, you were talking about respecting everyone when it comes to the tradition and today, Ben was likely going to disrespect you and your boundaries.

Miguel huffs to himself as you near your cabin, deciding that his actions are justified. He prevented someone from disrespecting you, even if it was only going to be a harmless kiss because of some Christmas tradition. Or at least, that’s what Miguel tells himself.

As the cabin comes into view, Miguel continues to think about the situation and begins to wonder if Ben’s intentions were truly harmless. Didn’t you say months ago that Ben wanted to tell you something, only for it to be about an anomaly report when Ben knows how to make them? That was strange to Miguel back then, how Reilly had only sought your help for something as basic as a report.

And wasn’t there that time at the training sector when Ben only greeted you and completely ignored him despite walking next to you? It was as if Miguel, a man nearly seven feet tall, wasn’t even there. Then, that same day at the training sector, he seemed to be doing a little too much in Miguel’s opinion. It almost seemed like Reilly was trying to impress someone, but doing a horrible job at it — not that Miguel would know any better, but still.

Miguel’s thoughts abruptly halt when he notices you duck before a snowball flies by. He immediately forgets about Ben and turns to find the culprit for the snowball, realizing you sensed it coming.

“Are you okay, Dulzura?” he asks, turning to face you again when he finds no one, a gentle look on his face just for you.

“I’m alright,” you answer, turning around. “I think someone’s playing a trick on us.”

“I think so, too,” Miguel answers, looking at the ground because he has an idea. He crouches and grabs snow before he molds it into a snowball with his gloved hands. “I think I know who threw that one.”

“Right there,” you murmur, noticing footprints coming from an invisible source on the snow. “On your right,” you whisper before another snowball flies your way. You’re quick to dodge it and Miguel is even quicker in throwing his own snowball. It hits something, or rather someone, and when it makes impact, it reveals none other than Miles.

“Attack!” he says, crouching to form snowballs and inciting the rest of the spider gang to come out from behind trees.

Seeing multiple snowballs coming your way, you quickly grab Mayday, who of course, finds the situation hilarious.

“Snow attack!” she yells, still carrying her reindeer.

“I need you to hold on to me, Mayday, okay?” you instruct with a grin. “We’re being attacked.”

“Are we going to win?” she asks as Miguel walks past you, preventing a snowball from hitting you and Mayday and throwing four back in retaliation.

“That’s the plan,” you answer. “Miguel, you, and I must work as a team.”

“And Binx!” she answers, showing you her reindeer.

“And Binx,” you add, wondering at what point did Mayday name the reindeer as you dodge another snowball from Hobie. You quickly collect snow and shape it into balls, launching one after another to different people.

Snowballs fly across the plot of land, some bigger and faster than others. Laughter and comments about winning and defeating fill the air. The snowball fight goes on for some time until Hobie, Gwen, and Pav begin to target you specifically. You run around, swinging from trees to dodge their relentless attack, which only stops when Miguel begins to target them back with much larger and stronger throws, knocking them down.

You laugh to yourself and swing back to Miguel, helping him form more snowballs to defeat the group. It finally concludes with Spider-Ham waving a white flag for surrender.

“Victory!” Mayday exclaims, but not before throwing one last snowball at Spider-Ham’s face.

“Alright, we give up!” Miles states, standing up and brushing off snow from his jacket. “I told you guys not to target Y/N too much,” he continues, looking at the group. “I knew el tío was going to go full on protective mode [the uncle].”

“I think you mean he was going to defend his team,” you clarify, or at least think so, with a small smile as you walk past him. “And I so happened to be in his team.”

“I don’t think I can handle this anymore,” you hear Pav say behind you. “This is like reading a nearly 400K torturous slow burn fanfic on Our Own Archive with the ‘idiots in love’ tag.”

“That’s what it’s called in your universe?” Margo asks. “But, so true.”

“Ooh, can we build a snowman? Please, please?” Mayday asks, tugging your arm and looking up at you with such puppy eyes you forget to ask Pav why he brought up fanfiction.

You glance at Miguel, who shrugs, as if saying ‘why not?’

“Why don’t we build it in front of the cabin?” you suggest.

“Yippie, okay!” With that, Mayday runs ahead of you and picks a spot to begin rolling snow.

“It’s been a hot minute since I’ve built a snowman,” you comment as you both watch Mayday kneel on the ground with her reindeer next to her whilst telling it how to make a snowman.

“Yeah, it’s a been… Years for me, too. I think since I was like fifteen, or so, with Gabriel,” Miguel replies with a fond smile. “Come on. Mayday is going to teach us how to build a snowman, along with her reindeer.”

“Binx,” you say.

“When did they get a name?” Miguel asks. “I missed that development.”

“Somewhere after the reindeer place and before the snowball fight,” you reply with an amused smile. “I found out about it just before the action started.”

“I see. Kids,” Miguel answers with a smile. He turns around to look at the others. “Should we invite them for the baking?”

“I was thinking about that. Maybe some of them will be up for it, if they don’t have plans already. It’s worth asking.”

“Uncle Miggle, aunt Dulz,” Mayday calls.

“Dulz…?” you repeat.

“She’s trying to call you Dulzura,” Miguel states with a smile. “Seems like you have your very own nickname from her, too, hm?” he teases.

“Nothing beats Miggle, though,” you tease back, making Miguel chuckle.

“It’s a noble nickname,” Miguel answers before you reach Mayday. “What is it, mija [my daughter]?”

“I need help,” Mayday replies. “We need big, big snowman.”

Together, Miguel and you help Mayday build a big snowman while your friends build their own things.

“We need another one!” Mayday declares when you've completed the first snowman. “Short!”

“Like you?” You ask, trying to figure out how short.

“No, like you!” Mayday replies with a giggle as she begins to collect snow. And so, a second snowman is built before Mayday requests an even shorter snowman. Of course, Miguel and you oblige.

“Yay!” Mayday happily hugs the tallest snowman. “Uncle Miggle!” She then moves to the second tallest snowman. “Aunt Dulz!”

“Oh, that's supposed to be me” you say amused as Mayday hugs your snowwoman. “Is this you?” you ask, gesturing to the shortest snow person.

“Nope. It's my friend.”

“Your friend? Oh, what's their name?” Miguel asks, equally curious like you.

“Gabby!” Mayday answers with glee.

“Oh,” Miguel softly responds, his chest tightening at the mention of Gabriella by Mayday. It's the first time she’s ever said anything about Gabby and to be honest, Miguel didn't expect her to until much later. He expected that she'd eventually ask who the little girl in the picture frames at the penthouse is on a random day while you both babysat her, not on this winter getaway.

“Miguel,” you murmur softly, gaze softening at the mention of Gabby. “Are you okay?”

“Ye-Yes.” Miguel nods, trying to recover.

“She likes the snow!” Mayday announces before running to pick up more snow with Binx.

“She did,” Miguel breathes out. “She liked the snow. How did she know?”

“Kids…” You trail off, not knowing how Mayday knew of that fact. “They're far more sensitive than we are, and far more aware than we give them credit for.”

Nodding, Miguel watches Mayday continue to play in the snow with the others. After a minute or two, he tries to push the thought away for the remainder of the time in an attempt to enjoy himself and keep the mood light. He watches with a smile as the group has fun and eventually joins you in making snow angels just outside your shared cabin.

Gabby comes to mind yet again, however, when you’re all in the cabin’s kitchen baking cookies. Miguel was concentrated on the task at hand, but when he gazes at you and notes how patient and tender you’re being with Mayday as you teach her how to bake, Miguel can’t help but think about his daughter and how eager she would’ve been to bake with you. He imagines you would’ve been so sweet and patient with her, just the way you are with Mayday.

After baking and decorating cookies, everyone gathers in the living room to enjoy them and relax with the Christmas tree in sight.

All too soon, Miguel and you cook dinner while those who stay to dine with you entertain Mayday in the living room with coloring books. Once dinner is over and the kitchen is cleaned, you put on a Christmas movie while Miguel gathers the snacks, starting the final fun activity for Mayday. Of course, your friends were invited to stay and so they did, which results in a full living room with some people sitting on the floor.

Miguel and you, however, sit on the same couch next to each other and share snacks while the movie plays. You eventually note, close to the end, that Mayday has fallen asleep with Binx close to her chest, exhausted from the day out. A few minutes later, the credits begin to roll and one by one, your friends bid their goodbyes and wish you both a Merry Christmas before returning to their cabins.

“Should we put on another movie? We still have about half an hour before we drop off Mayday,” you say once it’s just the three of you.

“I’m personally… In the mood for Christmas movies, so I’d be happy to watch one more,” Miguel answers with a grin.

“Me, too! Alright, let’s see,” you say, looking to see what options there are. “This one sounds interesting. It says —” you begin but stop when you feel something small fall on you. “What was that?”

“Hm?” Miguel moves to see what fell on you before he feels something light hit his shoulder, too.

You both shift over and find small berries — mistletoe berries, to be exact.

“Berries…?” you say softly before you both look up in confusion only to find mistletoe hanging from the ceiling thanks to spider web and tied with a pretty satin red bow. “I… That wasn’t there before, was it?” you ask, slowly looking at Miguel.

“I think I would’ve noticed it,” Miguel answers. “But, I also didn’t see any of our friends do that, so…” Miguel looks at you, trailing off for a few seconds. “I have no idea how it got there.”

Meeting Miguel’s gaze, you nod in the dimly lit room. You suddenly become aware of the crackling flames from the fireplace and the scent of baking still present. “I don’t know either,” you answer softly, noticing Miguel’s crimson eyes and how they seem to shine because of the flames. You swallow softly, slowly smiling at him out of — something. Amusement? Shyness? Disbelief that you’re both under mistletoe again? A mixture of everything? You don’t know.

Gently, Miguel smiles, too. His gaze sweeps over your face, locking every detail into his memory the way you’d try to memorize every feature about a touching and beautiful work of art; how the fire’s flames cast light on your face, caressing you; the way your eyelashes frame your eyes; and how your eyes look at him with a glimmer in them.

Still smiling at each other, you both chuckle quietly.

“Well…” Miguel starts. “There’s mistletoe.”

“Again,” you say, exhaling softly.

“Again,” Miguel confirms, remembering you’ve now found yourselves under mistletoe twice. He’s also, unwillingly, reminded of that moment with Reilly earlier. Out of instinct, his hand closes into a fist just thinking about it, but he pushes the memory aside, not wanting that bad memory to taint this lighthearted moment.

“It’s everywhere,” you continue, amused, still staring at Miguel.

“It seems so,” he answers, gazing at you.

A few seconds pass and you’re both still staring at each other, unable to look away. Maybe it’s exhaustion, or something else, but you both begin to lean closer without realizing it. Your heads gradually move closer and closer, completely unaware of how the distance is growing shorter and shorter with every breath from your lungs. In that moment, even the crackling from the fireplace ceases and all you can both focus on is each other, almost in a trance.

“Hey, guys!”

Startled, Miguel and you turn to the front door, now fully open thanks to Peter, who has his arms high in the air to make an entrance. He freezes at the sight, eyes widen as Miguel and you stand up from the couch.

“Peter!” you start. “I thought we were dropping Mayday for you?”

“Ah…” Peter trails off, looking between you and Miguel, who is suddenly busy folding a blanket. “Yes, but Mary Jane and I literally decided, like two minutes ago, that it’d be better for me to pick her up since you guys have done so much for us today. I’m sorry if I startled you, that wasn’t my intention.” Peter says before he spots the mistletoe, it adding even more fuel to his thoughts. “Uh… Seems like I should’ve messaged you before showing up?”

“No, it’s okay,” Miguel says, now picking up an empty bowl that had popcorn earlier. “Some of the spider group, who stayed for dinner and a movie, just left.”

“Yeah, you missed them by like thirty seconds or so,” you add.

“Literally, like thirty seconds,” Miguel confirms, for some reason having the need to emphasize that you were both in company of others up until now. “We just finished watching the movie.”

“And Mayday has been asleep for about fifteen minutes or so. She’s exhausted form the day,” you continue.

“Uhuh, I can imagine,” Peter replies, slowly grinning. “I bet you guys had an exhausting yet fun day together.”

“We tried to. I think we succeeded,” you reply with a smile, feeling like you’re explaining yourself when there’s no reason to. Right?

“I would say so,” Miguel adds, coming to stand next to you. “By the way, you have a new family member besides Benjamin.”

“Oh?” Peter inquires simply.

“Binx,” you say, gesturing to the stuffed animal Mayday is still holding on to while sleeping.

“You guys bought her a reindeer plushie?”

“Miguel,” you clarify.

“Dulzura helped Mayday choose, so it was a team effort,” Miguel counters.

“Love the team work,” Peter replies with a full blown grin. “Well, I’ll go ahead and take Mayday, and let you guys rest for the remainder of the night. I imagine you’re both a bit tired after looking after a kid.” He walks past you two and approaches his daughter, picking her up effortlessly and cradling her along with Binx.

At the door, Miguel hands him Mayday’s backpack, too, finalizing the day. “You don’t need help?” Miguel asks.

“Thanks, pal, but I got it from here. You two continue on with your night,” Peter replies, stealing a glance at you and half smirking. “Enjoy the holidays. I’ll see you guys after Christmas at HQ.”

“Say hi to Mary Jane,” you state. “And again, if you guys need something — anything at all — let me know.”

“Yeah, please remember that,” Miguel says, scratching his neck. “We’re here. If we can help somehow, we’d be happy to.”

Smiling, Peter nods. “I know. Thank you, guys. We truly appreciate it. And, thank you for looking after Mayday and Mr. Binx, too.”

“It was a pleasure,” you answer with a smile.

“Any time,” Miguel replies.

“Thanks, guys! I’ll get going now. Have fun and continue to enjoy your vacation!” Peter calls out as he walks out of the cabin. “See you soon!” With his webs, he closes the door shut, leaving Miguel and you alone for the first time since this morning when you woke up in the same bed.

Alone, you both look around before the mistletoe catches your attention again.

The sight of it leaves the two of you rooted to the ground, next to each other. Moments ago, you were sitting beneath it having just learned of its existence and you were staring at each other, laughing about it. It was funny, you internally tell yourselves. Although there is the question of how it got there and by who, but as you both continue to stare at it, you discover that you don’t care to know. It’s harmless and innocent and it’s not like something happened, you tell yourselves, oblivious to that moment, where your heads were inching closer before Peter arrived.

A second later, you yawn softly out of exhaustion. “M’sorry, I guess I’m beginning to feel tired,” you start softly. “Should we quickly clean up and then head to sleep?”

Miguel nods, redirecting his attention from the mistletoe to you. “Yes, or if you wish to go to sleep already. I can clean up on my own.”

“I’m not leaving the cleaning to yourself,” you quickly answer. “We’ll get it done faster together.”

As always, the team effort goes smoothly. Miguel and you leave the living room and kitchen spotless, especially when you remember that tomorrow is your last day in the cabin.

A short while later, you walk into your bedroom donning pajamas. Rubbing hand lotion on your hands, you look up and find Miguel on the bed already. He’s leaning against the headboard while reading a book, lost in the words. Pausing a few steps in, you gaze at him respectfully, or at least you hope so anyway. Miguel’s shirtless once more, apparently not cold, and wearing sweatpants that sit at his waist.

Massaging the rest of your lotion into your skin, you look away and breathe out after seemingly holding your breath. For some reason…

At last, you approach the bed, noting that Miguel has already placed the covers in a way so you can easily slip in. You hum quietly when you’re under the same covers, finding that the bed is warm already, even though Miguel has probably only been on it for a few minutes. Regardless, you embrace the warmth and allow it to embrace you back as you get comfortable.

Next to you, Miguel uses his bookmark and closes the book before he puts it away on the nightstand. He yawns softly and looks down at you, taking note of your sleepy gaze.

“Good night, Dulzura,” he murmurs quietly to avoid startling you. “Sleep well.”

With a small and sleepy smile, you respond. “Good night, Migs. Sweet dreams.”

-♡-

Outside, the heavy snow falls off trees’ branches. Pine cones drop and decorate the ground. Somewhere, wildlife roams the beautiful land that is their home, leaving footprints of their strolls. A silence unknown to most cities is loud in this vast land; no helicopters roam above, no lousy cars speeding off, and there’s no sight or racket from bustling streets filled with beings.

There is silence, a peaceful kind, and with it, a heat.

It’s an inviting, blazing, and amicable heat. The kind you wish to bask in on a cold winter morning until noon. The kind of heat that grows from two individuals’ bodies laying so close together, it lulls you straight back to sleep.

It’s that heat Miguel and you are responsible for as you lay together under the same sheets. Your heads rest on the edge of your respective pillows; your faces merely separated by a few inches.

Slowly and comfortably, Miguel and you wake up at once. With a soft yawn here and a low murmur there, you both slowly open your sleepy eyes and simply embrace the moment. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re both very much still filled with sleep, or perhaps it’s due to something else entirely, but the two of you remain still.

Neither of you move an inch; not when you slowly realize your fingers are intertwined and that your faces are so close together, it would make people talk. Minutes pass and with each one, the more conscious you both become. You finally reach a point of awareness that makes you discover something else: the intimate tangle of your legs, with one of yours between Miguel’s.

It’s until then that it truly dawns on you; your unconscious disregard for Miguel’s physical boundaries. A second later, your eyes go wide. “Oh — Oh, I’m so sorry,” you suddenly say, speaking for the first time today. You quickly move your leg away and remove your hand from Miguel’s before scooting away. “I’m so sorry. I just realized.”

With your sudden and too soon departure from him, Miguel sits up and shakes his head. “Don’t worry. It’s alright,” he answers, his voice deep from just waking up. “People can’t help what they do while they’re sleeping,” Miguel reassures you, curling his fingers into his palm, the ones that were intertwined with yours just now. He exhales softly, feeling the loss of your warmth and touch instantly, and wishing there had been a warning to prepare himself for it.

“I — I know, but still,” you respond, covering your face with your hands because you feel hot in the face out of embarrassment and regret. “I hope I didn’t make you too uncomfortable.”

“Dulzura,” Miguel starts, waiting for you to lower your hands so he can see your face. “Dulzura,” he calls again, much more gentler, when you continue to hide behind your hands. “Can you look at me, please?”

Slowly, you lower your hands when you hear the gentle pleading of his voice. “Yes?”

Miguel smiles, lazily. “Don’t worry about it, please.”

“Your boundaries are —” you start.

“Fine,” Miguel gently interrupts. “I’m fine. You seem to have forgotten that my hand was also there, with yours,” he says, pausing when he admits that, feeling an extra warmth rush to his cheeks. “And, my legs were also, you know, tangled with yours, so… I think it’s safe to say, I was more than comfortable,” Miguel admits softly. “So, don’t worry on my behalf. Or, about my boundaries. Please.”

“I…” you trail off, staring at him to gauge his reaction, to see if he’s truly not upset about the unconscious physical touch. With each second, you realize he’s truly okay with it. Miguel was and is comfortable with the much more intimate touching. You nod and give him a small yet sheepish smile after a few seconds. “Alright. Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” Miguel answers, smiling back. “You’re… Always so considerate. So much, that sometimes you stress yourself too much, Dulzura. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as considerate and respectful as you, you know?”

Smiling slightly, you shrug and look away. “It’s the least anyone can do, to be respectful.”

“And yet, there are some people who lack such quality, so thank you,” Miguel continues before his expression turns more serious. “But, just because I’m alright with it, doesn’t mean I expect you to.”

“Wha—What?” you ask softly, noticing the way he’s serious now when it comes to your comfort.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable at all. I know yesterday I also—” Miguel starts.

“I’m alright, too, Miguel,” you say, interrupting him now. “I was worried about you. I’m… Personally alright.”

Miguel nods, visibly relaxing when he hears the honesty in your tone. He slowly smiles. “I’m glad we can talk like this.”

You tilt your head slightly. “Talk like this?”

“That I’m able to communicate with you better than I used to,” Miguel explains.

“I’m glad you do, too,” you answer, recalling how Miguel kept a lot to himself in previous years, but how with time, he’s slowly opened up to you.

“Something else to thank you for,” he says, still smiling at you. Staring at you, Miguel thinks about that for a few seconds and how he’d have pages full of reasons to thank you for. He hums and slowly gets out of bed, deciding to start the day. “Now, since we’ve discussed that, let’s discuss something else. It’s our last day here and we leave by noon. How about we go get breakfast at the diner before we head home?”

“That sounds like a great way to end our trip,” you answer, kicking off the covers and climbing out of bed with a clear conscious.

After getting ready, Miguel and you decide to do a few things before heading out. You both pack your bags and make sure all the rooms are tidy, leaving them the way they were before you arrived. Fortunately, the broken bed won’t be an issue with the owners since Miguel notified them yesterday at some point, and they admitted they had noticed strange noises coming from it during cleaning. So, he was assured no charges would be added since it was an issue on their end.

Eventually, the two of you make it back to the same diner from yesterday and have a lovely breakfast together whilst enjoying the over the top Christmas vibes from the village.

“I got something sticky on my hand,” you say softly when you’re both done eating.

“Could it be that shiny thing you have on your lips?” Miguel asks since he noticed that you applied something glossy today.

“It’s a lip oil, meant to hydrate my lips due to the weather,” you answer with a smile, amused that Miguel has called it a ‘shiny thing’.

“Right. Lip oil,” Miguel answers, storing that away in his mind because it’s related to you. “It looks pretty on you.”

“Thank you,” you reply with a shy smile. “But it’s not that, it’s something else.”

“Maybe it was from passing me the salt and pepper,” Miguel says, thinking about earlier when his eggs needed a little more seasoning. “It felt weird when you handed it to me. Too many people touch it.” At that, you make a playful little face and mouth ‘yuck’, which makes Miguel laugh. “You should go wash your hands. I’ll pay and then go wash mine before we head out.”

“Alright, I’ll be quick,” you say, slipping out of the booth and heading to the restrooms, remembering the way from yesterday.

After seeing you make it to the restroom, Miguel heads to the register to pay. It doesn’t take him very long, considering there’s no line of customers, so he’s soon headed to the restroom to wash his hands. A minute later, he walks out and spots Ben Reilly leave your side and head his way, to the restrooms. For an unknown reason, Miguel gets a bad feeling, which only grows when he notices Ben wipe his mouth.

“Miguel, hey,” Reilly greets him as he reaches the restroom area.

“Hey, Ben,” Miguel answers, staring a little too closely at Reilly. It’s that, however, which allows Miguel to notice that Reilly has something shiny around his mouth. Something like a lip gloss, or a lip oil. Miguel swallows, his hands curling into fists at his sides at the sight. “Doing well?” he asks.

“Yeah, today has been a great day so far,” Reilly answers, briefly looking over his shoulder before facing Miguel again with a grin.

“That’s great. Glad to hear it,” Miguel responds, wondering why Reilly’s grin irritates him so much suddenly. He wishes he could wipe it off.

“I hope you’re doing well, too,” Reilly says, still grinning.

“I am, thank you,” Miguel replies without a smile on his face. “The past few days have been great with Dulzura, that’s my nickname for Y/N,” Miguel clarifies with a little smirk. “And with our other friends. We’re going home today to celebrate Christmas, but we definitely enjoyed our stay. This place is great,” he adds for some reason, noticing the grin disappear off Reilly’s face. Finally.

“Oh. You guys are going home,” Reilly says, clearing his throat. “To celebrate Christmas together. That’s great. So great for you guys... Well, I’m glad you enjoyed your stay. Happy Holidays to you.”

“Happy Holidays to you, too,” Miguel replies with a nod, watching Reilly slip inside the restroom with a frown on his face after wearing that frustrating grin. He huffs, annoyed with Reilly before he walks straight to you, thinking about the shiny stuff on his face. He pushes the thought away, but it comes back to him when he spots you reapplying your lip product, and mistletoe hanging from the ceiling just a few feet away from you. A sinking feeling washes over Miguel as he unwillingly connects those two facts with Ben and the shiny stuff on his face.

“Hey, you took a moment there. You alright?” you ask when you notice him, putting away the lip product into your pocket.

“… Yes,” Miguel answers, inhaling deeply and trying not to think too much about the reason why you just reapplied the product to your lips.

“I ran into Ben and what’s her name,” you start as you both exit the diner. “Everyone calls her Spider-Canada.”

“Spider…” Miguel trails off, not remembering her name in this moment. “Yeah, Spider-Canada. She was here, too?”

“Yes. Her and Ben were having breakfast. I ran into them while waiting for you.”

“Oh, that’s good for them,” he answers, swallowing. He glances your way as you both walk back to the cabin, noticing that you seem relaxed, a little too much, despite what may have just happened between you and Ben. He wants to ask and yet, at the same time, he doesn’t. What if you kissed and it was non-consensual from you? What if Ben disrespected you? He wants to know if Reilly has done that, but at the same time he doesn’t because he’d be upset.

He’d be upset that Ben disrespected you like that.

That’s the only reason he’d be upset; the sole reason for the sinking feeling Miguel carries with him all the way to the cabin.

Right?

Despite his curiosity, Miguel doesn’t dare to ask if something did happen. Not even when you’re both back home in Nueva York and done making plans regarding the cooking for Christmas Eve.

-♡-Christmas Eve-♡-

On the first morning back to Nueva York, Miguel surprises you with pancakes and other sides like fruit for breakfast. You both enjoy the meal at the dining table while talking, though you can sense that something has been on Miguel’s mind since yesterday right before you left the other universe. It made you wonder if Miguel had changed his mind and wanted to stay longer at the cabin, but when you asked if he was unhappy to leave, he answered no and seemed to mean it.

The rest of the day went smoothly once you arrived home, but still, you could tell something was, and still is, bothering Miguel. With the day ahead, you decide to give Miguel space regarding the matter, especially when he seems his normal self when he’s engaging with you or cooking. You figure he will share with you whatever is on his mind, at his own time.

At around noon, Miguel and you launch into action and begin prepping for the festive dinner.

Tamales with different fillings, and pozole [hominy] are cooked. Fruit is chopped and the dry ingredients are gathered for the ponche before it's all added to a pot with water to boil [hot fruit punch]. The champurrado is carefully prepared by Miguel, who tells you about his mom’s recipe [Mexican beverage]. Buñuelos [fried dough fritter]are also made, filling the kitchen with the sweet scent of piloncillo syrup [a type of cane sugar]. Since it’s one of your favorites, Miguel also cooks tinga with your help [Mexican dish]. For another dessert, you bake one of Miguel’s favorite cakes.

Hours later, you’ve both showered and dressed in more appropriate clothes for dinner to celebrate Christmas. With happy and joyous Christmas music playing from Miguel’s record player from the living room and the table set, you have dinner together, officially making it the third year you’ve done so.

Thinking about that, you chuckle at yourself and how nervous you were that first year.

“What’s so funny?” Miguel inquires with a raised eyebrow and a soft smile.

“I was thinking about the very first time I came here — to your home,” you answer, grabbing your glass and drinking. “I don’t know if you knew, but I was nervous about coming here.”

“I could tell,” Miguel responds, lowering his fork and recalling that moment from three years ago. He smiles fondly at you, feeling tenderness for you. Who would’ve thought that you’d be here three years later, having dinner with him again? Miguel clears his throat, suddenly feeling a knot begin to form. “When Lyla told me that you had been sent to deliver food and asking about my whereabouts, she mentioned you looked nervous. And, when you arrived, I could tell. You apologized for coming here before you explained that the Morales’s had sent food with you.”

You smile slowly and nod. “I was the chosen one. For some reason.”

“And I’m… I’m thankful you were,” Miguel softly answers. “I’m thankful you came that night and that you accepted my invitation for dinner. That was the first year I celebrated the holidays here in my universe after not doing so for many years. It was the first time I wasn’t alone on those days since Gabriel passed away. It meant, and still continues to mean, so much to me.”

You look away, feeling your eyes water. After clearing your throat, you look up and nod. “It meant so much to me that you invited me to stay. That you showed me the holographic tree and how holographic ornaments are designed. And, how you invited me the next day for the recalentado,” you answer [Mexican/Latin tradition].

Miguel smiles. “And we’ve kept it a tradition, haven’t we?” he whispers, a tear slipping down his face.

“We have,” you whisper back, a tear of your own running down your cheek.

“Don’t cry, Dulzura,” Miguel whispers, reaching over the table and offering your special gesture; his pinky finger. When you wrap yours around his without any doubt or questions, Miguel reciprocates. “Please, seeing you cry, makes me want to cry.”

“Sorry,” you whisper, wiping your eyes with your free hand, but a few more tears roll down your face out of nostalgia. Things have changed since that night three years ago, for the better.

“I know,” Miguel murmurs, raising his free hand to your face to gently wipe the tears away. He clears his throat, another tear slipping out of his eye. “We've come a long way.” He smiles again, thinking about three years ago. So much has happened and changed since then. He's smiled, laughed, and cried with you. He's made memories he'll carry, cherish, and protect for the rest of his life.

When he thought he was meant to be alone, in walked someone who didn't give up on him; someone who has had the patience of a saint with him; and someone who extended their hand and kept it offered until he was ready to accept it, or at least, a pinky finger.

“We really have. Three years later and we're here,” you answer. Three years ago, you visited the penthouse for the first time and now, you have a bedroom upstairs. There are reminders and personal touches of yours all throughout the space, like the gallery wall in the living room and the mugs from your universe in the kitchen cupboards. “Thank you for trusting me,” you murmur.

“Thank you for not giving up on me,” Miguel murmurs back.

With a tender smile, you respond. “Never.” You smile at each other, tears still brimming in your eyes. “Let’s finish dinner. Everything, as always, turned out so delicious. And we still have the Christmas show to watch, don’t we?” you ask excitedly, trying to lighten up the mood.

“We do. It’ll start in a few hours.”

“I wonder if you’ll be part of it again,” you answer, making Miguel chuckle.

“Maybe. I’d be surprised if I am for a second year in a row,” Miguel answers, noticing your pinkies are still attached. “Either way, I hope you enjoy it.”

“I’m certain I will,” you answer, giving Miguel’s pinky a squeeze before slowly and reluctantly releasing his finger.

“You up for tinga?” Miguel asks, following your attempt to lighten the mood.

With no more tears shed, you continue to have dinner and enjoy the amazing food you both cooked. After the Christmas holographic show, which did include Miguel once more, you find yourselves in the living room, your usual hangout place. Sitting on the ground, you stare at the Christmas tree’s lights, admiring the beautiful tree and feeling the Christmas spirit. You’ve been talking about your short vacation, recalling each moment from the ice skating to the snowball fight you had with the spider gang.

It’s all lighthearted and fun, but of course, talking about the trip reminds Miguel of the whole thing with Ben from yesterday — about whether you kissed. Miguel has tried his best not to think about it and he’s been successful, or so he thinks, but the thought has come back thanks to the conversation.

And he must know.

Did Ben kiss you?

“Dulzura,” Miguel starts, trying to find the right words. “I know you’re a strong woman. That you can take care of yourself and have no need for someone to physically help you, but…”

“What is it, Miguel?” you ask, curious as to where this is going. One moment you’re talking about the trip and now the conversation has shifted to something completely different and unexpected.

“You would tell me, even if you can take care of yourself, if someone… Took advantage of your kindness, right?”

“Wh— What do you mean?” you ask, confused. With furrowed eyebrows, you shift your body to face and look at Miguel better.

“If someone… If someone was to take liberties with you,” Miguel answers, unsure if he’s using the right words or if he sounds crazy right now. “Like, kissing you without your consent.”

That makes you raise an eyebrow. Where is this coming from? You nod regardless. “I… Yes, I would if that happened. I would confide in you if such situation took place.” You blink a few times, still trying to understand why Miguel has brought this up.

“If that happened,” Miguel repeats, now uncertain if Ben did anything at all, or if he did but with your full consent.

“Why are you asking me this?” you inquire.

Miguel sighs, running a hand through his hair and deciding to be honest. “I ran into Ben at the diner yesterday, too. At the restrooms. I noticed he had something like lip gloss on his mouth and then, when I went back to you, you were reapplying your lip oil. I also noticed there was mistletoe near you, so… I couldn’t help but think that you guys…” Miguel says, trailing off.

“Kissed,” you finish, everything clicking in your head with Miguel’s confession. “No, we didn’t.”

“Oh,” Miguel replies, relief running through his body. “I was worried he had and that it hadn’t been with your consent,” Miguel continues, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Ben can be… A little clueless sometimes, and impulsive. So, I was worried he had kissed you in the name of mistletoe without your permission.”

Suddenly, you realize this is what has been bothering Miguel all along since yesterday. You smile and shake your head, understanding now where Miguel is coming from, and feeling something warm and fuzzy bloom in your chest at the fact that Miguel has been worried about you being in an uncomfortable position due to a man.

“He didn’t kiss me, but he did kiss Spider-Canada. I still can’t remember her name,” you pause, frowning and trying to remember. “I was under the mistletoe with him at some point and he was just about to tell me about it when I stepped away to look for you. When I looked back at them, Spider-Canada was already next to Ben, right under the mistletoe, so they kissed once they gave each other clearance to do so. She was wearing lip gloss, or something of the sort, which Ben tried to wipe off, but he ended up spreading it all over instead. That’s when he excused himself to go to the restroom.”

“I see,” Miguel answers, smiling slowly and finding the situation somewhat funny now, though Ben’s attitude still seems a bit annoying to him. “I’m glad it was consensual,” he continues, telling himself that he’d be saying the same thing, even if it was you in Spider-Canada’s place.

“Me, too. So yeah, no kisses for me.” You chuckle. “Except you know…”

Miguel raises an eyebrow, wondering if he missed something along the way.

“The one you and I…” you say, trailing off.

“Ah, yes, yes,” Miguel answers shyly, his cheeks feeling warmer suddenly. “Just that one.”

“But thank you for thinking about me,” you continue. “I appreciate your concern.” You sigh softly. “And I would’ve told you if something like that happened to me. You’re my… Best friend, after all.”

“And you’re mine,” Miguel answers with a small smile. “I’m glad you’d feel comfortable sharing that kind of situation with me. I know you can take care of yourself, but still. I would — I would defend and stand up for you, or stand next to you and help when you request aid. Whichever way you prefer, I’ll be here for you. Always.”

“Same goes to you,” you reply, touched by his words. “Always.”

Smiling, Miguel sighs. He’s glad that he finally asked you about the situation and relieved that nothing happened. For your safety and well being, of course! With that out of his mind, he thinks about the trip again and how much he enjoyed getting away with you, even if it was just for a few days. “Can we do this again next year?” Miguel asks. “Take a getaway trip, and then come back and celebrate Christmas at home?”

“If you'll have me and I'm still around, it's a yes from me,” you answer, staring at the lights.

“I'll have you,” Miguel quickly responds, holding back from saying that he’ll have you every Christmas, every single one until his last one, if you allow him to. “So, you better be here.”

You laugh softly and turn to face Miguel, smiling. “I'll do my absolute best to be here.”

“Good,” he answers, turning to face you, too. “Or, I’ll go and find you. Wherever you are.”

Chuckling, you continue to stare at Miguel. “Likewise, solecito [little sun].”

At the nickname, Miguel feels his cheeks grow warm. It’s been over a month since you gave him the new nickname and since then, you’ve used it a few times here and there, but no matter how many times you’ve said it, Miguel still feels over the moon each and every time he's heard it. He smiles at you, a fuzzy and fluttering ****feeling stirring in his chest. It's familiar, yet somehow it’s stronger here in this moment.

“Should we… Stay here and maybe watch a movie?” you ask, gesturing to the living room that looks absolutely cozy and magical due to the decorations.

“If you want to,” Miguel answers. “I don’t mind. Staying, that is.”

“Hmm,” you hum, thinking. “I wouldn’t mind either.”

“It’s settled, then,” he states. “I’ll be right back. Wait for me here.”

You watch Miguel stand up, wondering where he’s going, but you don’t have to wonder for long because two minutes later, Miguel comes back from upstairs with pillows and blankets. Smiling, you help set up since you’ll be spending the night in the living room, together.

Once settled, and after you've completed your night routines, Miguel and you decide on a movie to watch, but an hour later, you've both fallen asleep next to each other.

-♡-Christmas Day-♡-

Snowflakes swirl down from the sky, adding to the already thick white blanket that covers the city of Nueva York. Inside the penthouse, the fireplace is still on, keeping the space warm and toasty. The Christmas tree and other festive decorations are still on, creating a lovely and welcoming ambiance. Everything looks the same, except for the gifts beneath the Christmas tree that were left during the night by each of you at different times.

“It’s Christmas time!”

Miguel and you startle awake by the loud voice of… Lyla, of course.

“What time is it?” you sleepily ask, rubbing one of your eyes.

“You didn’t have to startle us like that,” Miguel grumpily and sleepily says, sitting up with a huff.

“But it’s Christmas time! All the families in Nueva York are waking up right now, so you guys should, too!” Lyla eagerly says. “Plus, I really want to see what you got each other for Christmas. It was soooo cute seeing you guys wake up in the middle of the night to put your gifts under the tree. Like, so adorable. I took photos, of course.”

“Lyla,” you mutter. “Please tell me you didn’t because I’m sure we probably don’t look good in them.”

“Yeah, that’s unfortunately the truth. You guys look like you’re sneaking around, which I guess you were to avoid waking each other up? But anyway… Open the gifts!”

“I think we both need coffee first,” Miguel says looking at you rub away the sleep from your eyes, looking so sweet and endearing.

“Mhm,” you confirm. “A cup. Or, two.”

Miguel chuckles deeply before he yawns. “I’ll make it for us. If you want to lay down for a few more minutes, go ahead. I’ll bring it over here once it’s done.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, looking up at Miguel as he stands up.

“I’m sure, Dulzura,” Miguel answers, looking down at you with a soft and sleepy smile. “I’ll get it.”

You nod and watch him head to the kitchen to make the coffee. With a yawn, you lay back down and close your eyes.

“Isn’t he so sweet?”

You open your eyes again, finding Lyla laying on her stomach in mid-air next to you. “What?” you ask, sleepily.

“Miguel. Isn’t he so sweet? Letting you sleep a few more minutes while he makes coffee for the two of you?”

“Yes,” you answer, nodding. “It’s very sweet of him.”

“I think he’d make a great husband,” Lyla continues, smiling. “Don’t you think?”

“He would,” you respond, sleep fading away due to the conversation. “He really would.”

“That’s what I’m saying. If he ever marries, that woman will be lucky,” she continues, raising an eyebrow at you.

“She would,” you answer, slowly sitting up again.

“Anywayyyy,” Lyla continues, checking her nails before glancing at you. “Something I thought about just now. Well, my duty here is done. I’ve woken you two up.”

“I thought you wanted to see what we gifted each other—” you say, but are interrupted by Lyla.

“I see everything, unless deactivated, so no worries. Merry Christmas,” Lyla says with a little smirk before disappearing.

After a few seconds of silence, you sigh and shake your head, putting thoughts of Miguel marrying away. You glance at the windows, noticing the falling snow. With a smile, you stand up and walk to the windows to take a closer look, finding everything covered in snow.

“Una blanca Navidad [a white Christmas],” Miguel states from behind you, finding you in front of the windows. He pauses for a moment to take in the sight of you before approaching.

“A white Christmas,” you repeat with a smile, accepting a mug when Miguel offers you one. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“Always,” he answers. “We definitely need it since someone rudely woke us up. Wait — where's Lyla?”

“She's already gone. She said she can see everything unless deactivated.”

“Lyla,” Miguel mutters, shaking his head before drinking from his mug. He turns to gaze at you again, smiling when he remembers. “Want to open the gifts?”

“Yeah, why not?” you answer with a smile, gesturing to the tree.

With your mugs, you both approach the tree and carefully sit down on the ground.

“Alright, let me see which one I want to give you first,” Miguel says, looking at his carefully wrapped gifts. He picks up a box and hands it to you. “Let’s start with this one.”

“And you with this one,” you answer, accepting his gift to you and handing him his from you. Looking at the box, you smile when you see ‘Dulzura’ written in Miguel’s neat handwriting on a name tag, along with a cute bow.

Together, you unwrap the first gifts together, revealing new music records for each other.

“Seems like we had the same idea,” you say, looking at the different artists’ names.

“Great minds think alike,” Miguel answers with a soft smirk, thankful for your gift. “Thank you for the new records. I’m more than ready to listen to them.”

“Always. I hope you like them,” you respond with a smile. “Thank you for mine, too. I have no doubt I’m going to enjoy them.”

With a grin, Miguel nods and hands you another box. “I hope you do. I went back to the record store you took me to on my birthday. Mr. Stanley asked about you,” he says, accepting another gift box from you. “He asked where… Um.” Miguel pauses as he gently begins to unwrap the box. “Where I left my girlfriend at.”

“He asked me where I left you at, too,” you reveal with a chuckle. “I went earlier this month to pick up a few things from his store.”

“I did, too,” Miguel shares with a smile. “Told him I was picking up some gifts.”

Finally opening the gifts, and being completely fine with the fact that you’ve both casually accepted someone’s assumption of a romantic relationship between you, you both pull out sweatshirts.

“Hey!” Miguel says with excitement as he unfolds the sweatshirt to see the full design, revealing Spider-Woman merch from your universe. “Merch of my favorite Spider-Woman,” he says with a smile. “I love the design and how soft it is.”

Unfolding yours, you find that the sweatshirt is also merch of Miguel with Spider-Man 2099 on it. “And I got my own of Spider-Man 2099. How did you know I’m a big fan of him?” you playfully ask.

“I had a guess,” Miguel answers with a soft smirk. “I hope you like the design and color though. If you don’t, we can return this one and get another one.”

“No, no, I love it! Thank you, Migs,” you reply, touching the fabric. “You’ll be seeing me wearing it often, that’s for sure.”

After exchanging a few more gifts like books, cute fuzzy socks and pajamas with one of your favorite characters on them for you, and a tool set for Miguel among other gifts, Miguel and you each have a box left.

“Here,” Miguel gently says, offering his gift, the most vulnerable of all. “I hope you like it.”

“For you,” you respond, handing him your last gift for him.

At the same time, you accept each other’s final gifts and begin to open them. From the size alone, it seems that whatever you've gifted each other is small and delicate. When the paper is off, jewelry boxes are revealed, making you both look up at each other with equal surprise and amusement. The latter fades, however, when you each open the box and find a similar, if not the exact, gift.

Carefully, you take the bracelet out of the box to admire it. Much like the one you’re giving Miguel, the bracelet is simple except for a single knot in the middle.

“We got each other the same thing,” Miguel states softly in astonishment. With gentleness, he takes it out of the box before looking at you. “Well, mine is meant as a matching…”

“Matching bracelet,” you finish, pulling out the one meant for you out of a pocket from your pajamas's bottom. Your plan was to surprise Miguel with matching bracelets before wearing your own.

“You…?” Miguel starts before he pulls out a bracelet from his sweatpants’s pocket, having the same plan as you. “I got mine from here — this universe, I mean.”

“And I got mine from my own,” you answer in awe.

Silently, you slip on the bracelets you already had, the ones meant for yourselves, before slipping on the ones you’ve gifted each other. Seconds later, you extend your hand out and so does Miguel, your wrists side by side now wearing two bracelets that are fairly similar except for the thickness.

Miguel chuckles as he continues to stare at both your wrists, finding it amusing yet again, but mostly endearing. “What a coincidence,” he murmurs, that of everything you could’ve gifted each other, you both went for matching bracelets. And not only that, the matching bracelets are the same in design with its single yet elegant knot.

“Truly,” you answer with a smile. “But I love the gift regardless. Thank you, Miguel.”

“Always,” Miguel replies, still smiling, before he thanks you for his.

“Merry Christmas,” you tell him.

“Feliz Navidad, Dulzura [Merry Christmas],” Miguel responds with a smile. “Do you want to have breakfast now? I can cook something for us and then, we can put together the puzzle I gifted you. Seems like it’ll keep us busy.”

“That sounds like a wonderful plan,” you answer, picking up the puzzle he gave you. You stare at the picture on the front, admiring it since it’s a pretty puzzle of flying butterflies colored in a way that makes it look vintage. “I’ll help you!” you offer, standing up eagerly to have breakfast with Miguel.

The two of you walk to the kitchen together, the matching bracelets safe around your wrists.

“Wait, really?” Lyla asks, appearing near the tree and watching you enter the kitchen. “You guys didn’t even ask about the knot and the significance.” She huffs. “You’ll figure it out sooner or later, I guess. Hopefully, sooner rather than later, though,” she says with a smirk before disappearing again.

You spend the rest of the day together in the comfort of the penthouse, the very same place Miguel once found cold and desolate, but now feels like home because of you. Time is spent on the puzzle, café de olla is drank, and amazing food is reheated and eaten. Talks about New Year’s Eve comes up with both Miguel and you looking forward to it and knowing that no matter where you spend it, you’ll be together to welcome the new year and everything it has to offer; adventures, personal growth, laughs, special moments, and memories to cherish for years to come.

And perhaps, Miguel thinks to himself later that night as he lays in bed alone while playing with his bracelets, the year to come will be the year he finally says goodbye to those physical boundaries of his.

Miguel rolls on his side, facing the empty spot next to him. Mindlessly, he caresses the cold and empty spot with his hand before his fingers find your sweatshirt, tugging it closer almost instantly. Miguel sighs and closes his eyes, your scent much closer now. For a few seconds, he remains like that before he grabs a pillow to slip your sweatshirt onto. At last, Miguel pulls the pillow close, to his chest, and hugs it.

Embracing the pillow, Miguel thinks about you sleeping in the next room, so close but much farther away than the last few days at the cabin.

Miguel sighs again and hugs the pillow closer, wondering. Could this upcoming year, be the year he finally crosses that final line when it comes to his physical boundaries with you?

The mere idea of it makes his heart race, but not out of anxiety like in previous years before you, when people tried touching him to offer comfort. No, Miguel’s heart races out of excitement at the possibility. It’d be so much progress for him, and Miguel knows it. It’d be another step forward in his healing journey.

And… It would also mean, that at some point, at last, Miguel might finally be ready for something you’ve been ready for a while. He recalls now, how nearly a year ago, you made that clear to him with a sudden confession made out of exhaustion.

It was the day your apartment complex caught on fire. You were already here at the penthouse, showered and free of the smell of smoke, but you were exhausted after hours of helping tenants evacuate the building, and Miguel could see it. He made you breakfast so you could eat something before you went to sleep and it was afterwards, when you were going upstairs to the bedroom, that you stopped at the doorway of the kitchen and dining area.

He wondered then if something was wrong before you thanked him for his kindness and the fact that he had respected your choice of declining backup. You thanked him for helping you transport your belongings to this dimension and for offering his home. And then, you said something that Miguel knows you would’ve kept to yourself had you not been so tired.

“… offering me to stay here and trying to make me feel at home,” you said that day, your voice wavering. “It means so much to me and I wish — I wish I could give you a hug — a really tight one — just to emphasize with more than words — how much it means to me.”

That confession, made out of your exhaustion, messed with Miguel so much. He remembers the effect it had on him after you apologized for revealing it. He wondered then, what would it be like to embrace and be embraced by you? To feel your warmth? His hands itched to touch and before he knew it, he was rushing upstairs, but he found you already fast asleep and that rush calmed at the sight of you peacefully resting at last, in his home.

It stayed with him, that confession. And it had such an impact on him that day, that Miguel made his special gesture for the first time ever.

The pinky hug.

Miguel swallows, holding the pillow wrapped in your sweatshirt. You expressed that day your wish to embrace him, meaning you've been ready for it.

But is Miguel ready, too?

Miguel asks himself that before he surrenders to his sleep, lulled by your lovely and familiar scent. Somewhere in his slumber, he murmurs something.

“Yes.”

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

A/N: hiii my lovely pookies!!

Very quickly (because if you read this far, I've already taken an hour or so of your time), I want to say thank you for reading yet another chapter! This is now the second Christmas I’ve spent writing this fic, which is insane, actually. I know I probably sound like a broken record (I’m an emotional/sensitive person, so I just, yeah 🥲), but anyway, thank you so much if you’ve stuck around to read this fic that was meant to be 4 chapters, and for spending another year with me! For those who joined this year, thank you, too! 🥹❤️

I look at where this story is now and I find it unbelievable, yet so fulfilling. I have written many things over the years from fanfic for other fandoms to personal works since I was about 14yrs (wait, the way I started this fic when I was 24, and I'm now 26...? 😭), but to this day, this is by far my top favorite project.

A big reason for that is due to you lovely readers! I'm incredibly thankful that so many of you are still reading this fic despite the slow and/or super long updates sometimes; the slow and torturous slowburn that this fic is; and the lack of romantic and physical love right now that often repels/discourages many readers because of the need for instant spice.

So, thank you for supporting this fic! It has been a privilege to be here and to share my writing. I look forward, God willing, to completing this fic in 2025 and giving it a satisfying and well deserved ending, which will most definitely make me sob my eyes out, but in a happy way ((:

To conclude, thank you for your kindness and love, and for being a safe space for me!! Also, Happy New Year!! I hope that this year treats you with love, kindness, and patience, and that you experience nothing but great things!!

I love you all!! Pls take care and I'll hopefully see you for the next chapter! 💕💖🥹

Alondra❤️

p.s. how normal are Miguel and Dulzura about each other? 😅 And what do we think about Miguel's thoughts at the end? 😌

Taglist:

@loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick

@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

Bonus Message ... because I meant to write this on an earlier chapter, but since I posted the last 3 chapters in a weekend (oh, who is she?), I forgot to. A lovely new reader caught some symbolism I was really excited about in chapter 18 (beach episode) regarding the mention of butterflies and birds, and since I mentioned butterflies in this chapter, I figured it would be ok to mention it here, too.

As some of you may recall, both Miguel and Dulzura have had encounters with birds when they're at the cemetery. As one reader guessed in the past, these birds represent Gabriel and Peter (Dulzura's Peter), visiting and listening to them.

In chapter 18, Dulzura visited Peter's grave with Miguel, and they both saw a bird (same color as before for her) before it fluttered its wings and flew off.

After doing little research, birds can oftentimes represent freedom and spirituality. Due to that, I decided to convey Gabriel and Peter's spirits/souls through birds. In the end, this bird (Peter) fluttered its wings and flew off after chirping for a bit and staring at M and D, symbolizing Peter's true departure. Why? Up to that point, Dulzura had always gone to the cemetery alone, but that day, Miguel went with her and formally 'met' Peter. The happy chirping for M and D before the bird flew away symbolized his happiness, approval, and acceptance of them -- allowing Peter to fully move on knowing Dulzura is in good hands 🥺

As to the butterflies that flew over Peter's grave as M and D were walking away, these symbolize M and D. Butterflies symbolize rebirth, personal growth, transformations, new beginnings, etc. M and D are individuals who have gone through a rebirth after the losses and pain they have experienced. Together, they're forming a new beginning/life.

As to the puzzle in that chapter that they put together while discussing the possibility of love and having children, it symbolizes them piecing a future together.

And that's it! Thank you for reading that, if you did. I was really excited about the symbolism in that chapter just to forget about it lmao💀😭

[littelovelunette]

Hii, do you think you could write a vi x fem!reader comfort fic where reader’s parents aren’t that supportive of their relationship cause they’re lesbians? And Vi just comforts the reader?

I’m sorry I just sort of needed this… my mother isn’t really supportive of me liking girls…

Bringing You Home

Vi x Fem!Reader

Contains homophobic parents

"She said she'll disown me if I don't break things off with you," you sobbed against Vi's neck.

"Shh," Vi cradled you close.

Her hand ran down your back lovingly, she pulled you close resting her chin on your head. You couldn't stop crying. Vi was your everything. She was your absolute life.

Your parents had controlled every aspect of your life and now Vi too? You couldn't let them but you couldn't afford to get kicked to the streets? You were broke as a joke.

"What am i gonna do?" You sobbed to Vi.

"You don't have to make any sudden decisions," Vi whispered.

You could hear the strained pain in Vi's voice. She was upset about this too. She didn't want you to be at a dispute with your family because of her.

She couldn't handle the guilt churning in her stomach like an inevitable sickness. "Fuck," she groaned.

You sniffled, "Vi, what am I really gonna do?"

You looked up at her, face reddened and tear streaked, your hair was sticking to the damp surface of your forehead and cheeks.

"Oh, my baby," she caressed you before pulling you close again, your face resting against her chest.

"I don't want to live like this—" you sniffled. "Constantly being wary whether my parents are gonna lash out on you when I bring you home. Why did they have to be so homophobic?"

Vi pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Maybe you should take some time to think over 'us'."

"Us? What's there to think?" You asked, blinking at her confused.

"You know... Since your parents don't really like me, maybe it's better we—"

"We are not breaking up over that, Violet." You snapped.

Vi sighed, bringing you close, she caressed your hair. As you melted into Vi's touch, you wondered what would've happened if you just told you mother that you were gonna be with Vi no matter what.

"You wanna stay over at mine tonight?" Vi asked her voice soft and gentle.

You nodded, letting your face lean into her chest. "That would be nice."

"Okay, then, you stay right here and I'll go order some takeout, okay?" Vi got up.

"Don't go..." You grabbed her jacket sleeve.

V chuckled and sat back down next to you. "Okay, then. How about this, I go order the food and you go into my bedroom and put on a movie to take your pretty mind off these bullshits, hm?"

You let out a small hum of approval and got up from the couch, walking into Vi's bedroom. You got in bed, cozying yourself there.

You could see Vi standing at the doorway of her bedroom as she ordered. You grabbed the TV remote, putting on a movie and sighing.

Your mind was still heavy with the thoughts of your homophobic mother. What would she say if she saw you like this? In Vi's bed?

"Hey, sweetheart, want fries with your cheeseburger?" Vi asked.

"Huh? Y-yeah." You forced out a smile.

Vi noticed your forced smile, eyebrows furrowing slightly. She finished ordering and walked upto you. "Baby, what's on your mind?" She sat down beside you.

"Just thinking what mum would've said." You mumbled.

"Following your heart is never wrong, love. You have the right to choose the person you date." Vi said, "It's not a crime to love a woman. Women are beautiful."

You laughed a little hearing that. "I know. I don't want to disappoint my parents. Don't get me wrong we are not that close. But again, I have no other choice. I live with them. With their money."

Vi nodded and pulled you close to herself. "You take your time with this, okay?"

"Let's just watch the movie." You mumbled and Vi wanted to say something but she didn't. She didn't want to rush you when you weren't ready.

As you both enjoyed the movie and food, you found yourself relaxing in Vi's arms. Every deep breath was laced with Vi's soft scent, and whatever cheap cologne she wore. You still liked it.

When it was 8:00 PM, you were sitting between Vi's legs as she did your hair. Her fingers were gentle and soothing on your scalp. Your phone rung.

Your blood ran cold when you saw it was your mother.

"Are you gonna pick it up?" Vi asked softly.

You didn't answer. You couldn't. Your tongue felt dry, too dry. You raised a hand and picked your phone up, slowly pressing it to your ear.

"Hey, mom." You greeted, voice a little hoarse from nervousness.

"Where are you, young lady?" She snapped.

"I'm... I'm at Violet's—"

"What did I tell you about dating that... That faggot!?" Your mother screeched from the other line.

"Mom, do not call her that. Please." You said firmly before adding. "I, I love her mom and if you can't accept that, I'm sorry, I don't care. This is my life. I've always done what you wanted me to do. Always. This one thing, this relationship, means so much to me and I really can't let you take this away from me, too."

For a long moment there was just silence.

Vi was shocked you spoke to your mother in that tone, it wasn't flat or anything. Simply emotionless.

"Get your things, young lady. I am not raising a girl who likes girls." You could hear the tears in her voice when she hung up.

"She's upset." You told Vi.

Vi sighed, bringing you close and burying her face in the curve of your neck. "What are you gonna do now?"

"I don't know. She literally just... Is gonna kick me out."

"Move in with me." Vi said suddenly, hands playing with the fabric of your hoodie.

"What?" You sputtered. "I couldn't possibly—"

"I insist." Vi said, arms tightening around you. You leaned your head back.

"Hm... you're so sweet." You smiled at her.

Vi smirked against your skin. "Uh-huh, figure of speech or literally?"

You rolled your eyes. "We gotta go get my things then."

"Is it gonna be a lot of things?" Vi asked.

"Mhm. Better take your car." You giggled and Vi got up, car keys jingling as she was already at the door.

"You're gonna go looking like that?" You asked your voice now playful. Vi looked in the mirror and ruffled her hair up, putting a cap on.

"Eh." She shrugged before heading out the door.

You smiled to yourself. With Vi by your side, you could overcome anything.

[growth-opportunities]

it would make my day if you could write about someone being forced to grow massive tits against their will :)

"No, you can't do this! Please let me go home! The trial was only supposed to last twelve weeks and it's been twelve weeks and I'd like to go home! I'll call the cops! I'll sue! You can't-"

Bryn's tirade was cut short as Dr. Sullivan's hand took hold of her breast, her words replaced with an involuntary moan. Her breasts had never been more sensitive; even her hospital gown brushing against her swollen nipples had been enough to send waves of arousal through her body. To be gripped like that, squeezed properly, was overwhelming. Her hips bucked, lifting off the bed.

Dr. Sullivan did his best to maintain an even expression, even as he kneaded his patient's breast. He knew his warm smile would do nothing to comfort her, nor would the placating gaze of his green eyes peering out from behind his glasses. It was a strange mix of ingrained bedside manner and cruelty. "Miss Callahan, I would ask you to please calm down. Just think of how you're forwarding medical science! You're the only subject who has responded in this way to the medication and we need to study it further."

Gritting her teeth, Bryn did her best to fight through the arousal being forced onto her. "P-please… Just let me go home… You already have your data, don't you? I'm begging you… Don't make me hnnng… a-any bigger…" Bryn had tried to back out of the trial halfway through, when her formerly C-cup breasts had doubled in size, but her contract had bound her. She could do nothing but countdown the days to the end of the trial, watching in fear as her breasts grew larger and larger beneath her gown. She had no idea what cup size they'd be now; 'big enough to rest in her lap' wouldn't fit on a label.

The simple act of brushing his thumb over her nipple was all it took for Bryn to tense up again, her mind clouding over with arousal. Dr. Sullivan couldn't be sure his words would get through to her, but he said them anyway. "This could revolutionize plastic surgery! This could revolutionize hormone therapy! We still have no idea why your body reacted the way it did. We need to keep going! We need to see how far we can push it! We need you to keep getting bigger! We need-"

Now it was Bryn's turn to interrupted, screaming and moaning as she arched her back. The nipple pinched between Dr. Sullivan's fingers twitched. The doctor's eyes went wide as a damp spot formed on the gown right over her nipple. Bryn, for her part, sobbed and moaned as her emotions and her sensations conflicted with each other. Dr. Sullivan was in awe. "Fascinating… You're full of surprises, aren't you? Exactly why we can't stop now! Who knows what'll happen as you get bigger!"