#at least this is the first time someone is bringing up glitching

[akanemnon]

At least buy them dinner first before you lore dump all over the place

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference

[juniperdugong]

Relationship Quirks 95s ver.

Aka habits I can see the boys doing in a relationship || 95s || 96s || 97s || Maknae line ||

Scoups Calls you his "wife" while you guys are still dating

NOT AROUND YOU... at first but I doubt that the guys wouldn't secretly take video of him whining during practice talking about, "I miss my wife..." all pouty and everything (he saw you this morning), and NOT send it to you.

He's awkward when you bring it up because he doesn't know if you feel that way about the future of your relationship but once he knows you do feel the same way WHEW you do not hear the end of it.

Suddenly, all the reservations he makes are preceded by "Well, me and my wife...", anytime you're brought up in a conversation dude glitches out and HAS to mention you as his wife at least once (especially if it's to someone he thinks might be interested in you), and the yearning only gets worse! He'll leave for tour and after he texts his customary airplane goodbye message to you your phone will be blowing up with texts from the boys complaining about having to hear their leader practically sobbing about how much he misses his wife.

Jeonghan Steals your stuff

Has big "What's yours is mine" mentality, but don't worry! What's his is yours too! He swears it! Despite the drastic difference in how much he's using, borrowing, or straight up taking your stuff...

Let's be clear though, he never takes things he thinks you'll miss and if he finishes something of yours he always makes sure to replace it pronto. If you do get upset he makes a mental note to not mess with that particular item ever again.

Have you noticed a suspicious amount of your clothing (mainly hoodies, hats, and bags) go missing and suddenly see your boyfriend wearing them during a live? Yes. Has there been multiple arguments about this behavior? For sure! Does it absolutely warm your heart when you're at a concert and see a staff member run on stage to hand Hannie his current comfort item (a childhood toy of yours that you didn't even know was missing from your room)? Absolutely, it does. (Apologizes profusely once you find out...doesn't mean a single word of it and you know it because he's giggling the whole time)

Joshua Buys 2 of everything

Since the dawn of your relationship, Shua has gotten 2 of every item he buys. His initial reason was to get to know one another better by trying out things the other liked. This then spiraled to him doubling every single grocery item, clothes he buys, and pretty much anything he orders. Could be an insanely valuable item worth thousands that he's getting paid to promote but if there isn't a matching one for you then it's off the table. And no, he doesn't necessarily want to be "matching" all the time but he likes knowing that you guys could match whenever you wanted to.

He also gets extremely offended if you question why there's so much of everything, seriously he doesn't even want to hear it, like "Because it's ours! And we share! So we need double! Do you hate me or something!?"

"Babe, why do we have so much shampoo..." "I'm promoting it." "There's 2 of every type in here." "Yep." "We don't ne-" "We do need it." "It's too much." "I don't understand what you're saying to me right now."

A/N: The brainrot I have for these men is so real rnnnnn. I just had to separate these by years bc it was getting too long :( I'll have 96s up by today too, so stay tuned for that 96 line OUT NOW!! (Have to do it for my babe Nonu) Reblogs and Comments are much-appreciated lovelies!!

TAGLIST (open): @bemybabiibish

[noemilivv]

Here I am with the ask!!! I was wondering if I could request headcanons for Adam, Alastor, Lucifer, Vox and Lute with how they would be with a sloth like S/o. I saw someone ask this on a blog I follow and I was stoked, I love this concept so much it's so funny I decided it's my favorite. INSANELY sleepy s/o, they sleep ALL the time and still manage to be super sleepy, they'd be walking down the street? They randomly fall asleep while walking, needless to say that's very dangerous in hell. In heaven a bit less, but let's say falling asleep while flying is definetely dangerous too. They're talking to someone? They might be trying to pay attention but still can't help help falling asleep, characters like Adam and Luci would definetely have no problem with that tho. They are incredibly slow, and also have the sloth tendency to climb(for the tall ones) and cling to said partner and hang onto them like ragdolls. They can stay awake if they replenish the energy they use immediately or by being monitored, but they're very concerning. I imagine warm milk would probably knock them out cold, coffee probably does little to nothing, maybe a huge amount would keep them on the brink of consciousness lol. (Sorry this got long, that's how much I find this concept hilarious, you don't actually have to include all everything I said if you don't wanna I was just rambling)

heyy again!! this is so cute and honestly i’m fangirling at the ideas i have for this haha, enjoy!!

Adam, Alastor, Lucifer, Lute, and Vox x Sloth!Reader

Adam

There’s a solid chance he makes fun of you for your sleepy antics, but only he can do that, no one else!

Unlike Hell, if you fall asleep on the side of the road in Heaven, he’ll just toss ya over his shoulder like nothing happened

Honestly, Adam is pretty tall, and he’s got a bit of muscle under his fit, so he doesn’t mind a bit if you climb about him and all that

Alastor

Honestly, Alastor doesn’t mind your sleepy antics, it gives him an opportunity to get whatever he needs done for that time until you awake again

Although, he probably won’t let you climb him though, due to his dislike of physical touch, but dw he’ll let you cling to him a bit

If you start to daze off while he’s talking he won’t mind, his smile will soften, and he’ll tug you to his chest, talking you to sleep

Lucifer

You guys don’t go out much, so it’s not often you fall asleep on the streets, but if you do, he’ll pick you up bridal style, he won’t make a big fuss about it, at least until you get home

Like Alastor, if you fall asleep mid convo, he won’t mind, he’ll just bring you to his chest and talk you to sleep

Although he is on the shorter side, if you wanna climb him, he’ll certainly let you! He thinks it’s the cutest thing!

Lute

Honestly, Lute hates it when you sleep a lot, as because of her job, she’s busy most of the time and can’t see you, so when she does see you, and you’re asleep, it’s eh…

If you climb on her, she’ll tense up a bit, but she won’t deny it, but there’s a chance she will the first few times. Affection is new to her.

Vox

He’s another tall one, so you could climb on him, but he’s a bit of a twig tbh, so he might not be able to hold you 😭

If you fall asleep during conversation, he’ll be all pissy, but if you fall asleep ON him, bro glitches so bad

Tried to make sure you don’t fall alseep on the streets in the first place, but if you do, bitch is waking you up, ain’t no way he’s carrying you

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part 17

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

Part 17

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

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

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

“Lyla?” you say.

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

“Morning… Is Miguel…” you trail off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Those shoulders.

They’ve carried too much for far too long.

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

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

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

Including you.

But surely, that’s not it. Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time heals all.

Usually.

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

And today is still not that day.

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

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

Are you watching the sunset, too?

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

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

It reminds you of Miguel’s eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m at the gym.” - M

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wait, and wait. And wait.

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

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

“Can you please turn off all the lights?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Miguel. After everything that happened with Gabriella.”

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

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

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

“Is Miguel still at the gym?”

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

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

”Lyla?”

“Yes?”

“… I know I shouldn’t ask…”

“You want to know what’s happening.”

“Yes.”

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

Her.

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

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

Suddenly everything clicks into place.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Darkness.”

You nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tired, you start the day knowing what today is.

Gabby’s birthday.

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

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

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

I’m at HQ. - Miguel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re ignoring Jess’s message.

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

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

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

Today? Things are different.

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

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

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

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

“Ben,” you say, recognizing him instantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Miguel?” you try again.

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

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

“Miguel,” you say once more, gently.

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

“Don’t,” you say. “Don’t apologize.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, of course,” you whisper.

“I don’t want to be here right now.”

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

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

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

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

-♡-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s guilty until proven innocent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

“You… do?”

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

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

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

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

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

You gesture to the kitchen. “C’mon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was her favorite song of hers?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so, the two of you sing to Gabby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod gently. “If you wish me to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply.

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that necessary?”

“It was a jerk move.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel and you chuckle.

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

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

“L?” Lyla repeats, offended.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes light up at the idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel’s face softens even more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” Miguel asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will you?” he asks.

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

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

“Yes, boss?” she replies, knowing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dulzura?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel hums. “My nightstand.”

“Close to you,” you reply, nodding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eugh, no carrots, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’ll never know now.

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

Just maybe.

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

“You know how it starts!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always,” you replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Night,” Miguel replies.

“Good night,” you answer before she disappears.

“Are you tired?” Miguel asks gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm - no,” he replies, sleepily.

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

He sighs, yawning. “I wasn’t sleepy.”

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

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

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

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

You smile tenderly at him, the sight of his sleepy features and voice warming your heart.

“I'm staying here,” you reply as you cover him with your blanket, wondering if the reason why he’s asking is because he'll like for you to stay.

“Mm,” he hums sleepily, satisfied with your answer. “Thank you.” He sighs softly, relaxing and settling.

“Lift your head, Miguel.”

“Mhm.” Miguel does so slightly, more asleep than awake now.

You fix the pillow behind his head, your fingers accidentally brushing the small curls on the nape of his neck including the sensitive skin there, eliciting a gentle hum from Miguel, one of contentment, of satisfaction.

You freeze for a second, the sound surprising you. After a second or two, you smile and finish fixing it, pulling the blanket higher up.

“Sleep, Migs,” you whisper tenderly.

“Mhm, dulzura,” Miguel mumbles, dozing off at last.

You take a seat next to him. The holographic screen is still available, displaying the same photo from earlier.

You get comfortable and stare at the photo, thinking about all the new ones, about the videos. You got more glimpses of Miguel's life with his daughter. More glimpses of him being a father.

Turning your attention back to Miguel and taking in all his features, you think once more.

He was meant to be a dad.

You wonder if there's a chance of him opening his heart to someone one day. Of falling in love and having a child. Or, maybe two, or three. Maybe even four.

With thoughts of the possibility of Miguel building a family with someone, you fall asleep yourself.

It's many hours later when you wake up naturally, without the need of an alarm. To your relief, you find Miguel still sleeping peacefully by your side.

Standing up, you notice his sleeping face, once again remembering how similar it is to Gabby's. You hum to yourself, heart swelling with tenderness, before deciding to make coffee.

You go through yesterday's events silently as you prepare the pot and set up the mugs, opting for some simple ones today instead of grabbing more colorful ones, like the mug you gifted Miguel for Father’s Day due to the circumstances of Gabby’s birthday. You wait patiently, remaining quiet to avoid waking up Miguel and think to yourself. You can't believe that all this time there were more photos and videos of Gabby, lost but thankfully recovered and restored by Lyla.

“Good morning,” Miguel says entering the kitchen, his voice still laced with sleep.

“Good morning,” you reply, offering Miguel a smile. “Coffee is almost ready.”

He nods before running a hand through his hair, it being a little disheveled from his sleep. His movement slows down as he vaguely remembers your fingers brushing his hair and neck, a memory that makes his cheeks feel warmer. “I could use some, muchas gracias [thank you].”

“Always,” you reply, not noticing the gentle redness on his cheeks.

He leans on the counter, still waking up and trying to gather his thoughts. He looks over at the coffee and the mugs, remembering. He moves to where the mugs are found and finds the one. It’s the one he’s been using since you gifted it to him; his mug from Father’s Day with the bees. He retrieves it and moves towards you, placing it on the counter near the two you already have out.

“My favorite,” Miguel says looking at it, still so touched by your gifts, bringing a smile to your face.

So, you serve him coffee in that mug and watch him drink it, raising the mug you made with your own hands to his lips. It’s how you also notice the bracelet you gifted him with Gabby’s name on his wrist, another sight that makes you happy. It seems Miguel really liked the gifts.

“Do you want to come with me?” Miguel asks, lowering the mug. “I’m going to the flower market.”

“If it’s alright,” you say, remembering Miguel’s plans to buy flowers for Gabby to place on the altar. “I’d like to.”

Miguel nods. “I’d like for you to come.”

After drinking your mugs of coffee in peace, you both get ready and dress in civilians clothes. For the second time, you borrow the simple holographic suit Miguel allowed you to borrow months ago when your apartment building caught on fire and your suit was dirty and smelling of smoke.

You both slip out of the penthouse and swing through the city before most of the people of Nueva York are awake, before the city is truly buzzing with life. On an alleyway, you both deactivate the suits and step out onto the street wearing your normal clothes to search through the flower market.

You walk around side by side, admiring the different types of flowers available, trying to find the perfect ones for Gabby. You eventually find bouquets that seem to attract both of you; a lovely combination of white and lilac flowers. Together, you choose the best bouquet out of the bunch before continuing to walk around. Despite your mission being accomplished, it seems Miguel is in no rush to leave.

As you both continue to walk around, his gaze turns to you, noticing the way you eye certain flowers with glee and interest. You even stop at certain displays to take a closer look, so Miguel stops to look at them with you, sticking by your side while holding the bouquet he’s already bought.

His brows shoot up when he sees the owner, an older lady, of the display talk to you, inviting you to see further in the back when you stop on theirs.

You shoot him an apologetic smile as the woman enthusiastically talks to you about other options, so he smiles back with a look that lets you know that it’s okay.

“Mujeres. ¿Verdad? [Women. Right?]”

Miguel turns, a little startled by the sudden voice. He finds a man, a much older one.

“¿Disculpe? [Sorry?]” Miguel replies, towering over the man.

“Mujeres divinas. ¿Que haríamos sin ellas? Hermosas. Y mira como les encantan las flores [Divine women. What would we do without them? Beautiful. And look how much they love flowers],” the man says with a smile. “Parece que ya le llevas un arreglo pero le gustan mucho las flores. Así esta mi esposa [looks like you already have an arrangement (bouquet )but she likes flowers. That’s how my wife is],” he says, nodding to the owner. Miguel quickly realizes the owner is the man’s wife. “You know, she pointed you guys out from the little early crowd.”

Miguel clears his throat, looking down at the bouquet of flowers. His mind immediately puts together what the man is insinuating, or rather what he believes.

“She did?” Miguel questions.

“She said that was us thirty-five years ago.”

“Oh,” Miguel says simply for a moment, struck by the fact that two more people have confused him and you for a couple in two weeks, remembering the lady from the grocery store. “We’re… just friends. Best friends.”

The man laughs as his wife and you walk back to them, talking. “That’s how my wife and I started. Friendship is one of the most essential foundations for a blissful and long marriage, mijo [my son]. Take it from me. Thirty-two years of marriage, three kids later. Something to think about, eh? Take care, mijo, and take care of that one, too,” the man says nodding at Miguel and then at you before he withdraws to meet his wife, leaving Miguel speechless.

He watches as the couple talk to you a bit more before finally letting you free. You join his side a few seconds later, smiling.

“Sorry, Mrs. Gonzalez wanted to show me other flowers she has in the back,” you say.

“You learned her name,” Miguel states.

“She introduced herself,” you reply with a shrug. “She was very excited about showing me some flowers. I couldn’t say no.”

“Did you like them?” he asks.

“They were lovely,” you answer, looking at a certain bouquet that caught your eye.

He nods and before you can say anything, he talks to the owners in Spanish.

“Me quiero llevar uno de esos arreglos, por favor. ¿Cuanto es? [I want to take one of those bouquets, please. How much?]”

You watch as the transaction is quickly made between Miguel and Mr. Gonzalez, the latter whispering something to Miguel that you can’t catch.

“¡Gracias, tenga un buen día, don [Thank you, have a good day, sir]!” Miguel says before walking back to you. He hands you the bouquet. “For… you. I noticed you eyeing these.”

You accept them. “Yes, these….” you reply, looking at them and feeling a little awestruck by the fact that you’re suddenly holding a bouquet of flowers bought by Miguel for you. “Thank you. I’ll pay you back. Maybe with some snacks from my universe,” you add at last, moving past the awe, as you both begin to walk.

“No paying back,” Miguel answers as he looks ahead, his tone being one that leaves no room for you argue about it. “It’s… a gift. Look, food trucks. Do you want some breakfast?” Miguel offers, changing the subject, and nodding at the food trucks as you both exit the flower market.

You end up having breakfast on some wooden picnic table under a large umbrella to shield yourselves from the sun since it’s summer now. You talk with ease, the tension from the last few days gone, at last. You both watch as the area quickly fills with more and more citizens from Nueva York, the city coming back to full life.

Instead of swinging back home in your suits, Miguel and you silently agree to walk on the way back. He carries both bouquets of flowers in his arms since he insisted on doing so before you left the picnic table. Together, you walk home, sticking by each other’s side like glue, with Miguel walking closest to the street, keeping you on the inside of the sidewalk.

Once you return home, Miguel and you head to the office room. There, you watch Miguel inject himself with that neon serum you now know about. He looks at you sheepishly as he does so.

“I forgot about it,” Miguel says placing the device down, a glow passing through his crimson eyes.

“It's understandable,” you reply, glad that Miguel is in a different mindset and taking care of this.

With that, you help Miguel print the new photos of Gabby. He makes extra copies for backup purposes, storing them in his personal home computer and multiple USB flashes, or some version of them since they look different in this dimension.

Miguel also retrieves the vase he mentioned the night before and at last, he has everything to set up his little altar for Gabby.

As he places one of the photos in the picture frame, you open the bouquet of flowers he bought for her and arrange it in his mom's vase.

When everything is ready, and the surface has been cleaned properly, you both approach the console table with the items. You stand by, holding the vase, and let Miguel work at his pace.

The photo is placed first and then the vase with pretty and fresh flowers. Miguel retrieves the guitar from where he left it last night and carefully places it next to the console table, taking a few moments to look at it.

He’s glad that it's not hidden away anymore, that he'll be able to look at it every day now. At last, he places a candle and lights it, completing the altar for now. Maybe in the future he'll change something, but right now, it's perfect.

The altar is beautiful. You love the fact that Miguel has added Gabby’s guitar, the flowers that bring such a lovely energy to the living room, but most of all, you love seeing Gabby’s photo on the console table.

And so does Miguel.

You both stand in front of the console table for several minutes, simply admiring and thinking about her in silence.

A while later, you both sit on the rooftop of Miguel’s building, peacefully. You remember that it’s a work day and that both Miguel and you are technically “late” to work by now, but you say nothing. You’re certain Miguel already knows what time it is, and that if he wanted to, both of you would’ve already been there. It seems he’s okay with being late today.

He gazes at the sky, at the soft cloud formations, thinking and unworried about making it to HQ. He trusts that the rest of the team can handle the tasks, just a few more hours, without either of you.

After some time of peaceful silence, Miguel remembers.

“How’s reconstruction going for your building?” he asks.

“It’s almost done. I think in a week or two, we should get the okay to move back in.”

Miguel almost frowns, but he keeps the same look on his face. A week or two. His chest feels heavy all of a sudden and he wonders where time went.

“That’s… Good for the building, and everyone,” Miguel forces himself to say. Sure, he’s glad that everyone will be able to go back, that you’ll have your apartment once again - the one you love so much. Hell, even he misses the comfort and coziness from it, but… Why does the idea hurt him more than he thought it would?

He gulps. In a week or two you’ll be gone, back to your universe. He places his hand on the rooftop’s ground, accidentally brushing his fingers against yours.

“Sorry,” he apologizes instantly, worried he may have squeezed some of your fingers with his larger hand.

“It’s alright,” you reply with a smile, keeping your hand where it was, unbothered.

Miguel places his hand near yours, both of you silent and thinking about your upcoming return to your apartment.

A part of you is happy your place will be available again and yet… You sigh softly, staring at the clouds just like Miguel.

Neither of you say anything else about it, equally avoiding further conversation regarding the matter without knowing.

“I know it’s barely time, but what if we stay here for lunch?” Miguel says after a while. “A homemade lunch.”

“That sounds great,” you reply. “What do you feel like eating?”

“Hmm,” Miguel hums, thinking. “What are you up to?”

You laugh. “I’m up for anything.”

“That narrows it down a lot, thank you,” Miguel says sarcastically with a soft smirk.

“Happy to help,” you reply with your own little smirk.

God, he’s going to miss having you here, Miguel suddenly thinks. He forces himself to not think of that. Not again today. He clears his throat. “Let’s head back. It’s growing hotter. We can think inside of what to cook.”

You both slip back inside the penthouse, into the cool air.

“Maybe we can make some chilaquiles [Mexican dish]?” you offer, now in the living room.

“That’s an idea,” Miguel replies as you both stop in front of Gabby’s altar once more.

You both stare at it, the candle still on.

Slowly, you offer your pinky finger. A second later without hesitation, Miguel wraps his around yours.

“Thank you for sticking around,” he says quietly. “Despite my mood.”

“Always,” you reply. “No matter what.”

Miguel gives your pinky a hug with his own. “Always.”

A minute later, you both head to the kitchen to start prepping lunch, splitting up tasks to finish sooner, leaving Gabby’s altar in the living room.

The candle’s flame flickers and dances, peacefully.

A/N: It's here!! The way life kept holding me back from writing this chapter?? But it's finally here :) I loved writing this one so much (I've loved writing every single chapter lets be real) but I've been planning the concept of you helping Miguel celebrate Gabby's birthday since part 3 when we first learned Miguel doesn't celebrate birthdays but instead, makes an ofrenda for his deceased loved ones. Can't believe we're already on part 17, or that we're even on a part 17 to begin with!

I'm going to make this as quick as possible because you've already given my fic and me so much time of your day/night, so... Some of you may or may not know but this month (July) will make one year since I started writing this story and writing fanfic again in general after several years. To be specific, I posted the first chapter on July 29th. 🥺

I seriously doubt that I'll have the next chapter by then, so I just wanted to take the time today to give you guys a huge THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart 🥹❤️ I say it again, and again, and again, but the support this story and my writing has received since I started writing fanfic again truly means so much to me!! I know I also say this a lot, but I genuinely didn't think many people would be interested to read this fanfic that initially was planned out to be only 3 or 4 parts long (lol). Almost a year later, I'm still writing and this story has turned into something so much more than I planned - so much bigger - thanks to you!! All the comments, the asks, the fanart, and you lovely people I get to interact with ... Wow!!! Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd be back to writing fanfiction, much less have it be received and loved so much!! 🥹

Special thank you to every single artist who has created fanart of Nonviolent Communication!! If you read this, I hope you know that you've made me so incredibly happy, blessed, grateful, honored, and so much more - to see such beautiful art inspired by my fic. Each time a fanart has been posted, I've screamed and cried out of excitement, and that's not exaggeration. I am beyond thankful to have the privilege of saying there's fanart for something I've written (sometimes I'm still like "no way" fr). God - my hands are shaking rn and my chest feels fuzzy. I'm a bit emotional lol, sorry, but THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! One day I may stop writing (I hope not) but please know I'm always going to cherish all the fanart (which is all saved in my computer and phone, and now tablet because it's that important to me)!!!!! 😭

I'm gonna end it here because as usual, I'm yapping in the author's note and also the tears are coming🫣 but please know, this means so much to me, and ily guys!!! Thank you for inspiring me to write for our fav Spider-Man, Miguel❤️

To celebrate a year, I'll be posting something regarding opening writing requests (for the first time) over the next week, so if you're interested, keep an eye out for my posts. I was trying to come up with something more exciting but that's all I could think of to celebrate!🤣

That's all. Thank you so much for reading again, and ily guys!! Take care!!

And for old time's sake, I still love Miguel O'Hara (even more)!!🥹

Alondra❤️

P.S. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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[diabolikangel158]

The Makings of a Great Show

Vox x Reader (female) Smut (Hazbin Hotel)

Smut: read at your own risk. Angst (?) in the beginning. Somewhat abusive relationship. Includes: female-bodied reader, fingering, dirty talk, cursing, dubious consent, exhibitionism (?). First smut. I had to use the thesaurus to find different ways to say “moans”.  

Summary: You ask Vox if it's cheating to play games with another guy all night.

You sit on the lush loveseat that Vox provided for you in his monitor room. Something about “compromise” (you said he didn’t spend enough time with you and was always locked up in his monitor room, so compromise to him is buying you your own chair to stay in the monitor room). You look up intermittently from your phone with a bored look, but the same is on the screen. Various sinners with their eyes glued to their VoxTek devices, random areas of Hell Vox likes to monitor, Velvette’s model room, and… ah yes, of course, the Hazbin Hotel with random shots of a glitching Alastor. You roll your eyes in annoyance. If you didn’t know better, you’d think Vox was dating Alastor, and not you. You’re looking at your boyfriend sitting at his desk, watching all his monitors, when a question comes to mind. Something that might cause some excitement. 

“Hey, Voxy, random question.” You ask with a bored tone. 

“What is it?” Vox deadpans.

“Is it cheating if I play video games with another guy for more than an hour at night?” Vox looks back at you over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “Hypothetically, of course.” You add hastily. 

He thinks for a moment. “I suppose not…” He grunts, before looking back at his monitors. “Are you flirting with him?”

You shrug. “No… well what if he has a little crush on me, but I’ve told him I don’t want anything with him?” 

You hear the distinct, sharp noise of his claws dragging against his desk. That’s going to be a pain for someone else to patch up again later, you think to yourself. You lock your phone and put it down on your lap. Vox turns to look at you again, a fake smile plastered on his screen, eye squinting with the forceful nature of the smile. “So… another guy’s flirting with you and has a crush on you… you are aware of this and you continue to play games with him at night without telling me anything about this happening? Is that what I’m hearing, dollface?” 

You shake your head. “No…? I mean it’s all hypothetical.” 

Vox gets up from his chair and pushes it back, walking towards you. You look at his face with a nervous smile. If attention is what you wanted… you got it. “Hypothetical, hm?” As he walks towards you, his face on his screen disappears and is instead replaced with populating screenshots of your messages with said hypothetical man you were playing games with. Sweet messages from him about how pretty he thinks you are, and how he’d travel whatever the distance to come and see you. However, there isn’t a lie… you didn’t entertain the idea of the two of you dating, but… “You know, I didn’t say anything for… compromise and whatnot. For you.” Vox states, a tilt in his voice, as though he’s holding back laughter. “You know, since you didn’t flirt back, though, I found it curious you didn’t say.. ‘Yeah no, I have a boyfriend and he’s amazing.’ Not once.” He reaches you on the couch and places a clawed finger under your chin to lift it up to look at him properly, his face reappearing on his screen. “Why’s that sweetheart? Since you want to bring it up so bad?”  

You look at him with slight apprehension in your eyes. “It just… well seeing who you are…you’re so famous in Hell… I just thought it might make him uncomfortable… so I decided to just keep it to myself.” Vox grins at you while you blabber on poor excuses. He nods at you as words spill from your lips, standing back and removing his finger from your chin, as if encouraging you to keep running your mouth until you found words that made some sense, at least to you. 

“You know…” Vox says, “I would think that after being with me for so long, that you would have learned how to lie a little better.” Your eyes widen at his words, an apology starting to form, but Vox lifts up a finger at you and shakes his head, silencing you. “No, no, don’t speak.” Your mouth clamps shut. “Do you wish you were with him instead of me?” You shake your head feverishly. “No? You wish it was him fucking you? You think he’d deal with you? You think anyone except me would be able to handle you properly? Look at you.” He eyes your form up and down. 

You feel like you can barely breathe. “Vox…”

“What did I say about speaking?” He interrupts. You press your lips together tightly and look down at your feet. You tremble, feelling the weight of him sitting down next to you on the couch. You hear him pat his lap, and you look at him. “I think I need to teach you your place again, doll. Bend over.” You hesitate to move, knowing very well what was coming. “Y/n…do not make me repeat myself.” At this, you rush to lean your body across his lap, ass in the air, hands gripping the cushions of the couch nervously. Vox smiles at your obedience, trailing his claws slowly, starting on the back of your knee, making a path up your thigh, pushing your skirt up, and deciding the end location to be the fat of your ass. He sighs and takes a moment to appreciate your flesh, squeezing. You bite your lip refusing to make any sound, lest he get even more angry with you. 

Vox chuckles a bit, sensing your silence. “You can speak, baby.”

“I’m sorry! Please I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear, I was being stupid, Vox, I’m so sorry!” You blurt out.

Vox absentmindedly rubs your backside, as though deep in thought. Air enters your lungs in a quick fashion, in and out, your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage, so hard he can feel it against his thigh that you lay against. “I want you to count everyone. And if you fuck up, trust me, I won’t be as lenient.” 

You nod against him. As you begin to brace yourself, you hear it and feel it; he brings his hand down harshly against you. Fuck, he really is angry, you think to yourself. “One!” Pain blossoms on your left side, but you don’t have much time to think about it, when another slap lands on your right side. “Two!” Tears prick at your eyes; you can’t remember the last time he was this hard with you. Usually it’s like a little foreplay game, but this time it just feels angry. You sniffle as another hit lands. “Th-three, Vox!”

He laughs at you. “You know what’s the funniest thing about this?” He hits you again.

“Four!”

“That I bet your pathetic little pussy is probably soaking just from this. You have to be finding new ways to piss me off on purpose, dollface.” Unable to help it, you rub your thighs together at his words. “Mhm… I fucking knew it.” You now notice how hard he is beneath you; he’s always been a bit of a sadist with you. 

He slaps you once more, harder than all the ones before, your ass left burning. “Five! Please, Vox. I’m sorry.” You feel him press against the reddened skin, a small mercy from your boyfriend. Tears fall freely, wetting your face.

“What a good girl. Let’s see the damage, yeah?” He slides your panties down smoothly, leaving them hanging on your ankles. He whistles. “Oh my god, you're such a slut. Look at this fucking mess.” You feel him slide two fingers into you. You whine, spreading your thighs subconsciously, searching for more pleasure. He slowly pumps his fingers in and out of you, relishing in the squelching noises that come from you. 

He sighs as he withdraws his fingers from you. “Turn around, pretty girl. Lay down on your back for me.” He scoots, allowing you room as you do as he instructs. “Unbutton your blouse. Show me what’s mine.” Your trembling fingers start, unbuttoning them as best as you can. As you busy yourself with that, he leans to fish your discarded panties that had stubbornly hung onto your ankle, pocketing them in his dress pants. Won’t be getting those back, he’s such a perv. 

You finish with your blouse, tossing it to the floor. You wait, exhaling a slow breath in anticipation. Vox gives you an appreciative look, a trail of red appearing at the corner of his mouth on the screen. “Fucking hot. I have to focus though.” He holds out his hand, expectant. “Give me your phone.” You listen, and he inputs your passcode, opening the camera app. He swipes it into video mode. He grins and points your phone at you, beginning to palm his hard-on through his pants. “Smile for the camera, gorgeous.” 

You start to cover yourself embarrassed. “Vox, I don’t-”

“Shut the fuck up and move your hands.” You do so. What else were you going to do? You look at the phone’s camera lens, giving a nervous smile. “Don’t be so scared, baby. You’re gonna put on a great show for us.” Us? He can see the question in your eyes and furrowed brows. Vox slaps the side of your face lightly while keeping that camera aimed on you. “Don’t worry about it. Just be my good girl.” He leans forward towards you, petting the insides of your thighs softly. Your eyes go back and forth between him and the phone recording your erotic display. “Keep your eyes on the camera, princess.” 

You listen and your mouth falls open, feeling two of his fingers enter you again. He doesn’t bother going slowly this time, he knows you're wet enough from his previous administrations. You whine, spreading your legs again; you’d almost forget about being recorded if you weren’t forced to keep looking at it. Vox continues to pump his fingers in and out of you with vigor, and you moan as you feel him add a third. You move your hips against his hand. “M-more please, Vox, please…” 

You hear him chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, I know what you want. Because you're my girl right?” You nod in a daze. He uses his thumb to press against your clit and you whimper in pleasure. “No one could please you like this, huh, Y/n?” You nod in agreement, struggling to keep your eyes open.

“I'm close…please let me.” You beg quietly. 

“Not so fast.” Vox slows his fingers, much to your dismay. “Who do you belong to? Who makes you feel this good?”

You blink slowly, looking at him for a moment. “You.” You feel him remove his fingers from you and he slides them into your mouth. You suck obediently, gazing at Vox lovingly. He smiles at you, but shakes his head. 

He flicks his eyes to the camera and removes his fingers from your mouth, tracing your lips softly. “Tell the camera baby, who do you belong to? Who do you love?” 

Your eyes trail to the phone camera lens. You smile and say, “Vox. I belong to Vox. I love him and only he makes me feel this good.”

Vox nods in approval. “That’s right, baby. You did so good.” He shoves three digits inside you, using his thumb again to rub at your clit. You moan loudly in surprise and pleasure. The coil in your stomach tightens up again, and Vox feels your walls tightening around his fingers; his dick twitches in jealousy. “Hurry up and fucking cum, dumb slut.” You sob sweetly at the release that entrances you. He continues the movements inside you, letting you ride out your orgasm. 

He quickly pulls away from you once your breathing slows. He scrolls through your phone, opening a messaging app. “Oh there he is.” He taps the screen a few more times, and grins, tossing your phone back to you.

You look to see what he was doing. You suspected it, but it doesn’t lessen the dread you feel. The video Vox recorded, he of course sent to himself, but he also sent it to your gaming buddy. Well, he wouldn’t be that for much longer you supposed. A message was sent after the graphic video. Hope you enjoy it, cause this is as close you’ll be getting to her. She didn’t want to be with you because she actually has a boyfriend. Send that to anyone and I’ll know, and trust me, I will kill you and no one will even fucking care. Never speak to Y/n again and flirt with someone you actually would have a chance with, cause my girl is WAY out of your league. 

You look over at Vox, shocked. “Vox! What if he-”

“I’ll kill him.”

“But the Vee’s image!?”

“Babe, you really think I’d let it be traced back to us? Fuck no.” He stands up and pulls out his phone, switching to the camera. “Anyways, get on your knees. That one wasn’t made with me in mind.” He unbuckles his belt, letting his pants slouch on his knees. He crooks his finger at you. “Put that mouth to good use and give me an even better show.” You can’t help but smirk as you fall to your knees before him. 

It would appear that this little charade would be going on for a while.  

[gay-dorito-dust]

mayhaps i request an anomaly!reader who miguel can’t even seem to be mad at because she’s awfully sweet and becomes extremely protective of her over the months he keeps her at the spider hq? and just v fluffy in general because we need to see more of miguel’s soft side 😫😫

Not really a protective Miguel but I still hope it fulfils the soft Miguel aspect tho.

Miguel didn’t know what made you any different to the countless other anomaly he’s caught. The first time your kindness had greatly thrown him off was the moment he caught wind of a anomaly in dimension 619 but once he arrived, Miguel was confused by the lack of destruction that he was use to, the lack of chaos, the lack of panicked out their minds civilians running away; something felt wrong.

Miguel even checked in with Lyla to make sure that he wasn’t sent to wrong dimension but upon insistent confirmation -and a bit of back and forth- that he was in the right dimension as the anomaly, he wasted no time in immediately taking to the streets to hunt down this anomaly that could seemingly bypass the natural disruption their existence brings; So imagine his surprise when he found you -the supposed anomaly- enact an kindness in the form fishing a kitten out of the tree before handing them safely to the kid.

‘Here ya go.’ You said, smiling.

‘Thank you!’ The kid exclaimed happily but once their back was towards you as they made their way home, your body began, what you liked to call, glitching out of existence, your yelps becoming distorted alongside your body before the glitching ceased for the time being; That’s when Miguel decided it was time to actually do what he came here to do.

‘You’re not meant to be here. This isn’t your dimension.’ Miguel stated, thinking he was going to get a rouse out of you but all you did was smile at him, ‘isn’t that why you’re here, to contain us anomalies from causing further harm?’ You said, taking him aback with how complacent you were compared to your fellow anomalies, whom he’d have to tussle with before biting them for that extra measure. You on the other hand didn’t fuss, struggle nor fight back when he escorted you back to HQ; All of which had made Miguel all the more suspicious of your sweet kindheartedness, chalking it down to it just being a ruse, apart of some grand escape you had sitting in the back of your mind for when you could enact it perfectly when they least expected it. So Miguel made it his personal assignment to always keep an eye on you in the instance that your facade should slip ever so slightly; unfortunately for Miguel, that day never seemed to pass for your kindness seemed to know no bounds.

‘Miguel, you need sleep.’ You tell him worriedly, eyeing him as he rubbed his aching eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. It wasn’t hard for anyone to see that the man was neglecting his most basic of human needs for his personal pursuits and projects, to the point that due to his negligence his temper had became a short fuse, as Miguel himself became prone to more frequent -and in some instances violent- outbursts that had no real intended target. ‘Y/n’s right Miguel, you haven’t slept for the past few days.’ Lyla said, appearing next to you. ‘Who’s side are you on?’ Miguel snapped at the AI who merely shrugged her shoulders, he then goes to turn his gaze towards you but no bitter venomous words could escape his mouth, as though they were wedged within his throat with no signs of budging, slowly chocking out his fire for a fight; the effect you had over him had taken it’s course as Miguel felt himself rear back into a state of neutralism.

‘I don’t need sleep, I need-‘

‘Sleep.’ You butted in, uncaring of the side eye he gave you, ‘the Spider-Society isn’t going anywhere if you took a Power Nap, it’ll still be here when you wake up.’ You tried to reason with him while Lyla watched you both, intrigued as she’s never witnessed Miguel actually listening to someone making sense and no bite their head off. Lyla wasn’t oblivious to the way Miguel would watch over you as you talked to the likes of Peter B, keep Mayday entertained or going out of your way to defend and or patch up spider quartet made up of Hobie, Pavitr, Gwen and Miles when they returned from missions; You were the soft, homely warmth to Miguel’s ice cold ruthlessness, you were what he needs and he knows it but denies ever acknowledging it because to acknowledge it was to admit to himself that he was healing from the pain that made him the way that he was in the first place.

Miguel didn’t realise the breath that he’d been holding until you rested your hand upon his arm, causing his muscles to tense at first but ultimately relax upon seeing that it was just you as you smiled softly at him. Miguel wanted so badly to hate you but he couldn’t, he thought he had gone heartless ages ago but you’ve single handedly proven that wasn’t the case, he still very much had a heart but that heart wasn’t his anymore; it belonged to you. ‘Please Miguel, you’re killing yourself at this point and I don’t know what I can do to stop it.’ You whispered solely to him as your hand on his arm tightened it’s grip. Miguel finally let’s his walls down and rests his head atop of yours, his eyes closing briefly as he allows himself to be vulnerable infront of you. ‘You’re a pain in my ass you know that, making sure I don’t overwork myself, making sure I’ve got enough for eat, always checking in on me when you could be doing something else worth your time, and yet as hard as I try to find reasons as to why I wouldn’t feel the way I feel about you, the less I find myself actively finding anything to fuel a false narrative and more so in finding reasons for why I want you close.’ He chuckles for what felt like the first in a long time, he also felt like he could properly breath again.

‘Does that mean I can stay?’ You asked, dreading to be anywhere near the go home machine after having seen it in action once or twice on other anomalies such as Prowler or Vulture. ‘I thought my longwinded confession gave it away that I’m never letting you go,’ Miguel said as he cocooned you in his arms, drawing you near so your hands would be pressed against his chest, ‘so I’d suggest you get comfy because you’re not going anywhere for a long while, or just until you become sick of me.’ He adds a little softer so that only you could hear. ‘I don’t think I could ever grow sick of you Miguel.’ You admitted as you buried yourself into his chest to cope with how protected you felt within his hold, almost enough to the point you’d rather live out the rest of your life within his arms if that was possible. ‘Because beneath all that you are is a man searching for another chance and I hope to help you to get that opportunity.’

‘You already did.’ Miguel admits, ‘you are my second chance.’

[aealzx]

By the time Raphael reached Don at the main computer the alarm had already glitched out several more times. To the point that Don had disabled the sound aspect and just had the reports  populating on screen. He’d barely started pulling up various live camera feeds when Raphael leaned on the back of his chair. “So what’s the noise about?”

Giving a huff of amusement, Don tapped through the points that were triggered. “You know I’m not that fast, Raph,” he chastised, still analyzing what he was looking into.

“My bad. I meant, ‘what have you found so far’?” Raphael snorted, having forgotten Don could be slightly too literal sometimes. “Do Leo and I need to go on a patrol?”

“Leo’s not going anywhere for at least another five hours,” Don declined quickly. “Just because he got an antidote doesn’t mean his lungs are miraculously healed. Same with the other two.”

Raphael gave a small snort at the eye roll Don gave to emphasize his point, but reigned his words in for a moment. He wanted something to act on, and it was hard when there wasn’t anything yet. “Fair enough.”

Giving a moment of silence to see if Raphael wanted to say anything else, Don started vocalizing what he was finding. “Something is triggering our perimeter alarms. But there’s nothing showing on the camera feeds, and the points being tripped are…. Inconsistent,” he explained, touching a few parts of the screen to bring up a map of which perimeter locations had been notified. It was something Raphael could understand easily enough when it came to reading it. But what he saw definitely explained Don’s confusion. The map almost looked like someone had just thrown a bunch of red dots on it randomly. Or, near randomly. Looking at the timestamps and locations of the alarms, Raphael frowned. “... Is it just me, or is it getting closer?”

Don didn’t vocally answer, but he didn’t have to. Not when the alarm message displayed on the screen changed from ‘perimeter breach’ to ‘intruder detected’, flagging Raphael’s room first. With only a glance at each other, two more messages popping up for different rooms in their lair, Don and Raphael grabbed their weapons.

—----

The bubbling of broth in the pot Mikey currently had on the stove was accompanied by him humming random songs. Leo had already checked in on him, so he was content to know that all of the medical treatment was at least almost complete. Now he just needed to finish cooking so they could have a warm meal to unwind with. It was a habit he’d picked up years ago. He wasn’t much help with medical knowledge, so after getting sick of being the one stuck doing nothing he’d started cooking for everyone after missions. Provided he wasn’t the one that was injured of course. Today’s choice was a thick chicken stew, with plenty of beans and other vegetables. Leo had mentioned the new Donnie’s main ailment was blood loss, so Don wanted something high in iron, with orange juice as a drink. They weren’t sure when Donnie would wake up, so it was best to have it ready, even if they had to warm it up later.

His current task was the reason Mikey hadn’t moved from the kitchen even after the broken alarms had gone off. They had only been cautionary alarms, so he had deemed it acceptable to focus on finishing the food. And yet it seemed someone wanted to stare at him without announcing themselves. That slight prickle at the back of his neck that caused Mikey to pause, turning to look up where he thought the new presence was. The fact they were in the ceiling, and the quick sight of blue made Mikey briefly think it was Leo pulling a weird prank on him under the guide of training. But the eyes were distinctly not warm chocolate brown, and were also accented by curved red markings. Mikey knew they both knew each other knew they were both there, but he didn’t have anything to say before Don’s voice came over their intercom.

“We might have an intruder. Location unknown. Keep a lookout.”

“...Huh,” Mikey voiced, continuing to stare at the newcomer. He barely had time to connect the dots between them being there, and Don’s announcement before his instincts caused him to dodge towards the door with a yelp, silver blades swiping through the air where he’d been. Looks like the intruder decided to give up hiding. “Hey guys, I found the intru-EYAH!!” Mikey started to call out, cutting off with a startled shriek and darting into the main room when the figure came at him again.

“MIKEY!” Raphael’s responding yell was louder than usual in reaction to Mikey’s panicked scream. Darting towards the kitchen, Raphael caught sight of Mikey attempting to use the ladle he had to block an incoming attack, only to have the utensil sliced in half.

“HEY! That was my favorite- EEP!” Mikey protested, ducking his head while covering it with his hands, then swinging a lazy kick towards the intruder. His attack was definitely half hearted, but that didn’t prevent him from being shocked when he hit nothing but air. The intruder had just been in front of him as Raphael reached them, but in a blink he was gone in a haze of blue energy that fizzled out in less than a second. It was only after Raphael let out a startled noise, and the clang of blade hitting sai resounded that Mikey realized what happened. “Guys I know how he got in!” Mikey blurted, half keeping an eye on the others and half looking for a proper weapon.

“He teleports!?” Raphael sputtered, his own attack whisking through completely vacant air. Chasing his surroundings with his eyes, Raphael opened his mouth to warn Mikey as he caught sight of the intruder apparating behind him. It was too late, but at least Mikey was able to turn and block the kick with his forearms instead of taking it to his shell. He still got knocked back slightly, and the intruder vanished once more.

“That explains the glitching security,” Don realized, taking his own turn to block a series of slashes from dual swords. This newcomer was fast, but with Don’s skill level he was able to keep up with the exchange, the blades thumping into the reinforced wood. It should have been easy for Don, but there was something unrefined about the newcomer’s fighting style that added a strain of unpredictability to his moves. Especially when a flicker of blue light came from underneath Don, and his feet immediately lost the ground they were on to sink into the newly appeared blue disc.

“DON!” Raphael sprang forward on instinct, crashing into Don midair and sending them tumbling for a moment before they both twisted to their feet.

The intruder was once again in a different location, back to Mikey. “Don’t get caught by those! I don’t know where they lead to.” Don warned, extremely grateful Raphael had saved him from a first hand experience to find out.

“This is- SO COOL- but also- AHH!” Mikey sputtered between blocking more blows. An upward swipe smacking the hand holding the sword off course, foot sliding back as he turned slightly to get in the way of the intruder getting behind him, stepping forward and raising a hand to block an incoming kick towards his head before the intruder disappeared again and an abrupt slash came towards Mikey’s skull.

A lunge forward from Raphael to try and grab the intruder only earned him empty air, and a swift kick to the back, causing him to stumble forward into Mikey. Giving a slight growl, Raphael whirled around, fists ready. “Rrrgh! Enough tricks! Come fight me face to face!” he belted, sick of the popping in and out of sight the newcomer was doing.

Don wasn’t sure what in the last few seconds had triggered the change, but the next attack towards him was notably different. A faltering course forced into a last second adjustment, and backed up by a sudden increase in force. It was alarming, but also concerning in a different way. There wasn’t venom behind the attacks. Just…fear? It was hard to get any words out around the new barrage of borderline frantic attacks. Was the kid panicking? The shifts in location had increased in frequency to all of them, to the point none of them could get any words out around their focus on reacting to the attacks. It felt like a stalemate, but only because the three of them were holding back. They didn’t think this was an actual enemy. More just a misunderstanding. But it was hard to get a good look at the newcomer when they were always moving.

The battle ended up shifting when Leo joined them, launching from the infirmary stairs and almost crashing into the intruder if it weren’t for them disappearing milliseconds before. “You picked the wrong home!” Leo shouted, skidding on the tile in a crouch next to Mikey.

Unexpectedly, the response to Leo was a sudden stretch of silence in place of where they had come to expect the intruder showing up in someone’s blindspot. After a brief consideration that the intruder was elsewhere in the lair, a ring of blue swirled into a diagonal disc above them. But instead of a figure appearing from it Don’s eyes snapped wide as a familiar chemical storage cabinet came hurtling towards them.

“MOVE!” Don snapped, hurling himself towards Mikey to get them both out of the way, being relieved to see his brothers also fling themselves to the side, and covering his and Mikey’s heads with a hand. Only now did he remember that one of the recorded breach points was their chemical storage room. A fact that was emphasized by the crashing containers inside the large cabinet causing materials to mix violently with each other, crackling into a small explosion that made their ears ring. All Don could think was ‘What a waste of materials’ as well as ‘That cabinet had been bolted to the wall with five centimeter thick screws!’ as he waited for the reactions to stop.

“Anyone hurt?” Leo called out as soon as the deafening silence that followed explosions fell over them.

“Mikey and I are fine,” Don called back, removing his hand from Mikey’s head so they could both push themselves to their feet.

“...Where’s the other guy?” Mikey voiced, flinching and flicking his eyes all over to see if he could see where the intruder went.

“Raph?” Leo’s call came after a second of not hearing from their remaining brother.

Raphael would have responded, but he’d ended up in a minor situation. As soon as he’d tried to get back to his feet after the danger had passed his own sai was being stabbed through the soft section of the tactical armor on his calf, wedged expertly into the ground to secure his leg. Then the opposite arm was yanked behind him and hooked behind the intruder’s knee as they leaned their body weight into him, attempting to pin him. They honestly didn’t weigh much, and it would have taken little effort for Raphael to shove them off. But the cold sting of metal tapping against his throat caused him to freeze, more from curiosity than fear. Huh. This was an interesting move. At least the kid had stopped jumping through the air.

When the others didn’t get a response from him Raphael saw them skurry around the pile of fresh debris to the side he was on, only to skid to a stop when they realized why he hadn’t answered them. A small gasp escaped Don as he froze where he was, and Leo gave a small snarl as he shifted to a defensive stance.

“Dude! Not cool!” Mikey guaffed, quickly checking his options.

“...Let him go…,” Leo hissed, his entire form tense, sliding his foot forward slightly in warning.

___________________

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It was tough to decide if I should hide the pick below since it's kind of spoiler for the end. But then I just decided to keep the same format as the others. It's semi eye catching anyway

Also I'm fully aware that Leon is too small for that hold to be effective against Raphael. |D It was deliberate.

Fun fact: I had 2 scenes (more than 2 posts worth) written way back when I scribbled the first picture for this story. This one, and Donnie blowing stuff up earlier were both of them. But I did have to rewrite almost everything to fit the rest of the story X'D oh well.

[skullhorn59]

Heavenly Hell 2

A/N: second chapter! no spicey here just yet. sorry!~ im not that good at writing yet. xP Tags/Warnings are added progressively, design changed/fixed with time. mostly proofread! Summary: you have always been a fan of the show Hazbin Hotel in your life - and as you are spawned in a Hell identically matching the Show, you can't believe your sheer luck. you're immediately on your way to eagerly meet the celebrities (at least they are in your world), but your arrival hadn't gone unnoticed... Pairings: Lucifer, Valentino, Adam, Alastor, Vox, Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, Husk x Fem!Reader Warnings/Promises: self aware and insecure Reader, Spoilers for the Show, Vox, Attempted Manipulation, successful Manipulation

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Minors DNI 🚨🚔

"so, tell me, what useful information could you, someone this new to hell, possibly have?"

Vox sits down and leans back in his chair, watching you with a bored expression on his screen. urgh. right. he probably watched you spawning (arriving?) in hell. this is gonna be a hard one to explain. fiddling with your fingers anxiously, you look everywhere but at his screen.

you already regret coming here first, and not getting yourself a fidget toy first or something. or some pills to help keep your anxiety down. shit, you probably look scared out of your mind right now. he's gonna think you're really weird and rude if you speak up like this. or straight up lying. but for fucks sake - you can't bring yourself to look directly at him.

instead - you take in your surroundings. Vox's office. you only know it's impressive size from the Screenshots of the show, and literally sitting in it now is even more impressive. it consists of a gigantic room, an equally gigantic shark tank below, and a big round platform in the middle, which is connected to the door with a long passway. no idea how this could possibly fit into the tower without having it collapse from the sheer weight of the water alone - the only logical answer would be it being underground.

your eyes wander back to the platform, which is decorated with Vox's emblem. illuminated by a bright array of screens behind it, a round control pult sits at the back end of the platform. infront of it in a spinny chair with it's tips pointing upwards, is a rather impatient looking Vox seated.

oops.

you better get to answering his question.

you clear your throat and swallow, unsure how to even start. thankfully, you get your own chair - manifested with a wave of Vox's hand - to sit into. hoping you aren't sweating too visibly right now, you collect your thoughts. if you know one thing, it's not to sell yourself short.

"well, you see, that's hard to explain. and, you, as the head of.. technology.., surely understand that information is a valuable resource. I can't just.. give it away for free."

taking a deep breath, you lean back a little, trying to at least look more relaxed than you actually are. nervousness isn't even close anymore, like, are you panicking already?? well, at least you can mask it pretty well, you think.

"but I can say this much: I have so much information on Alastor," you think you hear a slight glitch coming from Vox at the mention of the name, "and the others in the Hotel, it's not even funny. Just.. I have a few small questions for you first."

a short glance up into the TV Demon's face tells you he raised an eyebrow. is he interested?? you hope he is. with all you got.

"go on, ask your questions."

wait. isn't he usually more talkative than that? nono, you can't spend a thought on that right now. you need to focus.

"When did the last extermination happen?"

"about a week ago."

"okay.. any interesting or unexpected turns of events? I just have to know what happened and what didn't. I-I know this sounds cryptic, and maybe even crazy, but I need to know at what time I got here."

silence fills the room for a moment. you dare to glance at the Overlord again, and he musters you with an expression you can't quite place.

did you mess up?

But Vox interrupts your thought before you can continue it. "... the hotel members fought back against the Angels, and won. that's all." relieved, you let out breath you didn't realize you were holding. okay. that's good to know. so the extermination already happened. it makes a good bunch of your information useless, but still. you can work with that. now you just need to-

"I think I provided enough information to you now," the Overlord begins, interrupting your thoughts again. his voice is oddly sweet. "its time you return the favor, my dear." - of course, he's trying to get the info out of you without paying for it.

how greedy.

you adjust your position on the chair, crossing one leg over the other, before looking directly at him. he's wearing his signature smile, his digital eyes looking  almost affectionately at you, but you know better than to trust the façade he put on.

"I told you, I'm not going to just give it away for free. And don't even try to fob me off with stuff like any of your products, pins, an autograph or similar worthless knick-knacks. That won't work on me. Trust me."

you glance at him again to gauge his reaction, and he seems surprised to hear you use his own slogan against him, but he quickly regains his composure. good. now just don't get any hypnotizing ideas, Vox...

"No, what I want is... actually quite simple. I want to be able to come and go to the entirety of this tower how and when I please. and.." you can't help a small smile at the thought of the Moth Man, "I want to see Valentino. preferably after our conversation."

and again, silence fills the room. you watch him tap the armrest of his chair with his fingers, thinking about your demands. you can't tell if he's going to give in to them or just declare you as crazy and throw you out, but you hope dearly it's not the latter.

just as the silence begins to get uncomfortable, the TV Demon clicks his tongue and stands up. your eyes dart up, and you automatically stand up too. what's happening? is he gonna throw you out now? - "alright. I accept. you may come and go freely, I'll get you your meeting with Val, and in turn, I get all the information you got on the Hotel and it's residents. Deal?"

Staring down at the hand he holds out, your mind whirls for a moment, overwhelmed with the action. you never thought he'd also make deals like Alastor - another detail they're matching each other in. you always thought he'd just somehow get peoples souls with sneaky contracts being signed when buying a Voxtek product or something.

as soon as you take his cold hand, he gives yours a firm shake, his smile widening to a grin as his face glitches momentarily. bright blue electrical currents and sparks begin to flow around the two of you for a moment, together with an intense blue light and a metallic screech. but as soon as it came, it's gone, and before you can waste a thought on it, Vox lets go of your hand, instead placing his around your shoulders as he guides you towards the door. "fantastic. now that that's done, how about we go check if Val's got some free time for you, hmm?"

you're confused.

doesn't he want your informations now?

on second thought - you don't mind too much. this way you have more of a reason to stick around and return.

─❲♡❳▷Hazbin Masterlist

─❲♡❳▷Main List

[the-s1lly-corner]

may we please request gn porcelain doll!reader whos on the verge of abstraction (but has zero idea how to stop it and is afraid to admit it) x jax and maybe pomni (separate) ? ot I love how canon your writing is !! have an amazing day/night :3

Jax and Pomni x porcelain doll!reader whos abstracting !

cracks my knuckles. a TADC angst request? dont mind if i do eheheheh! and ueueueueu thank you anon! i gotta admit im really self conscious about writing characters, doesnt matter how long ive been writing them i always feel that i could do better with their characterization... but im so so happy to know that theyre not too OOC!! that means a lot!! got a little too silly on jaxs part so its longer than pomnis i hope thats okay!!

POMNI:

gosh imagine this is the first time shes seen someone actively abstract... like yeah sure shes seen kaufmo in his abstracted form, but seeing the aftermath/complete transformation is totally different than being there in the moment. i think she would.. be all over the place. i mean youre at your worst and you dont even understand whats going on... and pomni doesnt know what to do or what she can do to ground you. can you even be grounded back to the present moment? can you even back up and regain yourself? is that something someone can do? i think her panic makes you panic, which ends up making your.. situation worse.. i think pomni would try to keep you together as best as she can; physically and mentally. i got the image of the readers face cracking open and the abstraction stuff peeking out and pomni just... trying to push the pieces back together... its a horrible situation, and before long you're fully abstracted and pomni just stands there. im not even sure if she would have the mind to run away, probably too caught up in trying to bring you back to her.. i think sometimes she would stop in front of your old bedroom door and just. stare at the brand new red X over your portrait

JAX:

unlike pomni, i think he can more easily catch the signs of someone abstracting, though i dont think hes seen someone actually lose themselves right in front of him and transform right there... hmm... but unless you and him are very close i dont think he would bother trying to check in on you. i mean, if youre not, why would he? but... lets say youre both friends, or even partners, and he notices that youve been acting off.. i think it would still take him a little longer than id like to admit for him to actually come to your room to check in on you. perhaps he wants to give you space, or feels youre just going through something and thats your business, or maybe he didnt feel obligated to ask how youre doing as horrible as it sounds (i feel this is more likely if you guys are just friends, though, perhaps not close but still friendly with one another).. gets tipped off that something is wrong when he sees a stray (and glitching) piece of porcelain on the ground... which turns into two pieces, then three. a trail, leading right to your breaking form. i think at first he would think its some joke, before realizing that this is actually happening. unfortunately, i dont think jax is the best comforter so even in your last moments of being conscious and aware would still be spent in fear and confusion.. but at least theres an attempt to try to help you, right? i think jax would actually try to call for help, at least he might be able to admit hes unqualified to help you.. but regardless of if anyone hears him its too late for you.. i like to think he keeps some of your porcelain shards, on the off chance theyre still hanging around even after youre sent to the cellar

[cyberrat]

Long post but this has been LURKING in my head and I must share.

Vox with his interchangeable parts decides he wants to give himself a pretty little cunt just for experimentation purposes. Except he can't just let VALENTINO see him acting like a virgin with his pretty little slit, especially with how much fun he has bullying and teasing Val's pretty little pussy. No, the vengeance would be merciless and humiliating. He needs someone who doesn't matter. Someone he can bully into obedience. That cute little eel assistant of his is well trained, already good at juggling meetings and being a pretty little cockwarmer for stress relief. It'll be fine.

(It is not fine.)

Glitch/Eelliott/Peppermint (I've seen So many names for him) has accepted that he's the secretary in a bad porno with the way Vox will drag him under the desk or fuck him while watching Valentino on his screens without a seconds hesitation. He accepts that sometimes, working at V tower means Valentino will come up to you, caress your face in one clawed hand, and whine for Vox to let him borrow you because he thinks you'll cry pretty. It might be upsetting if Vox wasn't paying him so well, or if the people perving on him were less attractive. He's always gone weak in the knees for power though and this is no exception. When Vox snaps for him to come into his office? Glitch is a good little toy and follows.

When Vox drops his slacks to show off a pretty little pussy instead of a new vibrating/double dicked/spiked/etc attachment, Glitch drools.

Vox has to deal with the fact that suddenly his well behaved little toy has a spine. That instead of the nervous hesitation that came with the first time he made Glitch suck him off, or the well trained eagerness focused exactly on his own desires that he's taught the twink, Glitch is BEAUTIFULLY eager to make a mess of himself eating out his boss. The sensations are just new enough, different enough as Glitch laves the flat of his tongue along Vox's electric blue little slit, that he can't quite keep control the way he usually does. Whimpers. Whines. Humiliating little pleading noises spill their way out of him and each one encourages his usually timid, hesitant little assistant to be eager. Almost cruel. Vox barely let's Valentino fuck his uptight little 50's ass! Having his weak little subordinate spreading his thighs and going to town eating his cunt like he's starved for it is SO much more than he was expecting to deal with!!!

When he finishes, Vox thinks he's done. That he'll just wipe Glitch's mind with his hypnosis so only he and his cameras remember how this little ingrate made him whine like a woman and make such a scene. But before he's able to, Glitch is pushing him onto the desk properly and fucking into him like HES the stupid little secretary who needs to be punished for bringing cold coffee. Maybe it would be easier if it was like that, if Glitch was taking revenge for unpaid overtime, for years of being made to handle things like Vox's impossible schedule or being made to pick up the slack when Vox decides he has time for a Valentino break. Trying to punish his boss for making him lick up the mess that had dripped out of Val onto the polished floor would at least keep them to their roles of boss and employee. But no, Glitch won't stop running his mouth now that it's free. Greedily telling him how good he feels, how pretty he is with this pussy, asking if this is a treat for him and thanking Vox before he can protest. Telling him he feels so GOOD. One hand is groping through Vox's shirt with a confidence the eel has NEVER had before, greedily searching for his nipples to grab and pinch and tease, while his other leg is hoisted higher in the air than Vox thought he was capable of stretching just to keep that pretty pussy as open as possible.

Glitch doesn't even have any skill with his cock, he's just eager and so fucking pleased as he rabbit fucks into Vox who's trying to tell himself it only feels so good because HES good with tech and made an excellent cunt, that it's got nothing to do with how that tongue worked him up so prettily first. Nothing to do with Glitch telling him he's always thought about doing this, about how he's been fantasizing about Vox in a pencil skirt and sharp sharp heels for years now anyway-

Obviously, Glitch needs to be punished afterwards. After Vox cums so hard he blacks out. After he's put himself back together again. After he's berated his little assistant who looks like a kicked puppy but still doesn't look quite guilty. Clearly, the best choice is to lock Glitch up in a chastity cage. He is only allowed pleasure when Vox decides now.

...If that happens to mean that denied, needy, greedy little Glitch is that much more eager. That much rougher in the once in a blue moon occasions he's ALLOWED to fuck Vox. Well... that's not Vox's fault!

Oh. My. Goodness 😮

I‘m fucking speechless oooffffff yesssss 👏👏👏👏 fucking LOVE Vox with a pussy getting *bamboozled* by his assistant 😭😭😭 that‘s so fucking good and horny.

He didn‘t want Val to notice how cute and virginal he is about his pussy and ended up getting his cherry popped by his fucking little assistant. What a looooser >:3c

[jinisnuggets]

hii can i request an angst & fluff idol!jeongwoo? been deprived of trsr fics lately :< thank you so much!! 🫶

𝚄𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎

ᴾᵃⁱʳⁱⁿᵍˢ: ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʰᵒᵒᵈ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ! ᴶᵉᵒⁿᵍʷᵒᵒ ˣ ᴳⁿ! ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

ᴳᵉⁿʳᵉ: ᴬⁿᵍˢᵗʸ? ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠ

ᵂᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ: ¹.⁷ᵏ

ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ: ᵘⁿⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ˡᵒᵛᵉ, ᶜʳᵘˢʰ ᵒⁿ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ᵉˡˢᵉ, ˢᵃᵈ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ, ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵉⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ

ᴬ/ᴺ: ᴴⁱ ᵃⁿᵒⁿ! ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵇⁱᵗ, ᴵ ˡⁱᵗᵉʳᵃˡˡʸ ʰᵃᵈ ⁿᵒ ⁱᵈᵉᵃ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉ, ᵐʸ ᶠᵃᵘˡᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ 🥹.ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᴵ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵒᵐᵖᵗ ᵉˣᵃᶜᵗˡʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ᵒᵏᵃʸ 🫶

ᴮᵃⁿⁿᵉʳ: @cafekitsune

“Isn't he the cutest?”

Jeongwoo turned to face your eyes which were glued to your phone, he couldn't help but roll his eyes and look right back to his own individual device.

“I don't know what you find so attractive about him.”

“Well he's cute, he's nice too so I don't really know what there isn't to like about him.”

“There's better people out there.”

“Well, to be fair you're never gonna find the best person in the world. That's just delusional, the best person is who is right for us and that's different for everyone.”

Your best friend finally made eye contact with you for the first time since you both ate, you turned off your phone and placed it face down on the table.

“What about you?” You asked, turning your full body to face him, who was busy drinking his coffee.

He responded with a confused pitch “What about me?”

“Do you like anyone? I always talk about him so I just wanted to know if you had anyone like that.”

He glanced up at the ceiling thinking for a solid moment, he glitched out of reality and completely lost himself in his own world. You… who had now become awkward, laughed a bit which seemed to bring him back to his senses.

“I do like someone, but I don't wanna tell you.”

“Aw come'on now, don't be mean.”

“I'm not, I just don't go around telling everyone like you do..”

“See? That just proves my point that you're mean.”

“There's a huge difference mind you.”

Rolling your eyes, maybe because you were now genuinely curious to know who he may have liked, or because of how he was being a jerk. Nevertheless you brought yourself to stand up and went to the kitchen.

“I should start prepping dinner, is regular pasta okay with you?”

“If you're gonna treat me to some food then might as well make me something luxurious.” he taunted, a slight smirk creeping onto his malicious face.

“You're not worth my time and energy.” You teased back in which a visible frown appeared on his face, turning back to the front of the couch and turning on the TV to put on some random channel so he could at least try to assist you in making dinner.

Although Jeongwoo and you had known each other for practically forever, you both had what could only be described as a love-hate relationship even though you both were technically each other's closest friend.

“Jeongwoo, pass me the ball.”

“No, come get it yourself.”

“You always tell me that, at least kick it a little.”

“Make me.”

“I'm gonna get run over if I go over there!”

It was your favorite excuse because he knew you were right, and he couldn't bear to watch you get hurt. It was always the best thing to say when he didn't want to pass you a simple ball.

“Thanks, Jeongie.”

He pretended to not like that name, you knew he did. Despite you cringing when you said it for the first few times you got used to it and it became a way of teasing him, and now it was really more of a habit.

Moving into college you both became roommates, really no one could complain even though you liked to pretend it was the most miserable thing that could happen to you at first… well sometimes still like to tease him that way.

“You've got to be kidding me.” you muttered

“You know you like being with me.” he responded, flopping onto the couch.

“I've already spent the last 12 years of my life with you- I don't need to add another 4.”

“Hey, at least it's better than getting a stranger, you've known me for 12 years and know I'm not a creep at least!”

“You're gonna throw parties every weekend!”

“I will not!”

“Ugh… I knew I should've transferred.”

“I'll only throw parties with your permission!”

“I don't like parties so if you're gonna throw one, tell me at least 3 days prior so I can make plans to go out.”

“Deal.”

“Oh! And you're cleaning up after yourself!”

“Yes I know… I'm not irresponsible..”

“That's debatable-”

“Hey! Let's just make some rules and boundaries list. You make one, I make one and then it's a fair game.”

You thought about the offer for a moment until you nodded and made your list of rules to follow, that really applied for both you and Jeongwoo because all of them were reasonable.

And that's mainly how you ended up where you were, roommates with whom you perceived as an all too familiar face.

————————————————————————

“Do you wanna go eat?” You heard Jeongwoo ask from the other side of the couch.

You glanced at him, both of you had been studying in the living room, although he was in a different major, you did sometimes study in the same room because you knew very well that there were always those phone tendencies.

So you both completed assignments together sometimes in order to limit your access to those tendencies… So upon hearing him you wondered if he somehow got ahold of his phone and dialed some random friend's number so they could go get takeout together and you somehow were so laser focused on your assignment that you hadn't noticed him pick up his phone.

Just as you were about to scold him and tell him to focus, you noticed his phone on the table where it had always been. Confused, you looked over to see his eyes fixed on his computer before looking up at you.

“Are you talking to me?” you asked

“Come’on, don't get delusional. You would never be so focused on studying in order for me to go unnoticed when I pick up my phone. Yes I'm talking to you!”

“My bad-” you muttered, rolling your eyes at the unnecessary offense that he just gave you, almost wanting to reject him because of that but decided to nod just because you were hungry. “But you're paying,” you added..

He nodded slowly as he slowly shut his computer “Yeah… it's my treat”

He was getting up slowly and only then did you start to wonder if he was okay, he seemed off, kind of upset and a little stressed, you set your computer to the side and picked up your phone, “you okay?”

“What do you mean?” He replied, making his way to pick up his wallet which was sitting on the TV table, he opened it to check how much money was in it.

“You seem a bit upset, or nervous. Are you okay?” You asked again, this time he just simply nodded without saying a word. It was abnormal behavior for him and that kinda made you more suspicious, but maybe he just wasn't in a chatty mood and the only one who would be worsening it would be you, so you decided to stay quiet.

It wasn't late at night, but it definitely wasn't early. There was a fast food lot nearby so there was no need to hop onto a taxi, there weren't many students in the area like you expected, so the walk was pretty peaceful.

Glancing up at the moon and then glancing back down in front of the non-busy city “It's a nice night isn't it?” you could hear Jeongwoo say beside you.

“It really is, it's nice and quiet, there's a light breeze, and the lights are gorgeous…”

“I agree..”

You both walked in silence for another few moments before you looked up at him and asked.

“Speaking of- why did you decide to invite me all of a sudden?”

Jeongwoo turned to you and made quick eye contact before breaking it and looking back to your surroundings. “I kinda figured we both needed a break. Nice and simple explanation.”

“Oh that's cool but I don't buy it- I think you wanna tell me something.” You teased.

“I have nothing to tell you- you're a boring person.” He replied with a frown appearing on his face, slight pout as he placed his hands in his pockets and brought his face down into the crook of his jacket in order to shield his nose from the cold… sure it was fall, but to be fall it was definitely one of the warmer nights today.

“Still cold sensitive huh?”

“A little”

“Guess you've really never changed” you said with a sigh, slightly smiling and remembering the old times with your childhood best friend.

“I haven't thrown any parties ever since we became roommates. That was 3 years ago.”

You froze in place, you never noticed how close it was to the last year in your curriculum, and you also didn't realize how Jeongwoo, the life of the party… never actually threw his own ever since he moved in with you.

“Crap, I never noticed that we only had one year left, I'm moving out of the dorms next year.”

“That's right.” He answered to your comment, you who was slightly petrified at the sudden realization hitting you.

“I don't know if I'm ready for that yet-”

“Why? Because you wanna see -”

“No! Because I won't be able to see you again!”

Jeongwoo stopped in his tracks, looking at you confused, “you're gonna miss me?” He asked in which you replied with an annoyed pitch “you jerk, how would I not miss you? I've been with you for practically 15 years by now and you expect me to just forget about you?”

“Well- I kinda did…”

“I’ll find you and I'll show up to your wedding when you least expect it.”

You noticed his mood drop a bit and you wondered if you had said the wrong thing, you immediately apologized but he brushed it off.

“I won't show up to yours just know that.”

You lifted an eyebrow, staring at him confused by his words.

“Why?”

“I can't watch the girl I love get married to someone else.”

“What…?” You questioned, words shaky and almost trailing off into the air.

“Don’t say that you didn't know-”

“I really didn't -”

“Of course you didn't. You were too busy loving someone else to notice me.”

“Jeongwoo - I'm sorry… I really didn't know.”

Before you realized you had arrived at the food area, you glanced at him who was already making eye contact with you.

“What would you like to eat?”

[spenglersglasses]

🎙️Now I know you're asking yourself, 2 chapters in one day? ❤️‍🔥

Well yup that's right... don't get used to it. I just got on a stride and could literally not control myself...

⚠️ FLASH WARNING⚠️

Anyways once again a few disclaimers/reminders before we begin!

While I know it is canon that Alastor is asexual, in this fic he has a rare sexual attraction that develops for a certain someone in particular and is NOT aromatic. If this is something that bothers you or if you are not a fan of the Alastor/Charlie ship (Charlastor/RadioBelle) then this is not one for you my fellow smut enjoyers.

If you aren't bothered then be prepared, this will be a wild ride!

Also, when Alastor has moments of "glitching" or that infamous radio cracking to his voice, his speech will look like this (Ĝ͎͍͓͌͠l̡̟̩͍̐̐̕͞ì͓̞̗̜̇̿͝ẗ̼c̬̮̹̔̒́h͚͇́̓ ̙͕̮̣̎͑͛̚s̟͇̽͞p̫͉͆̈e̡͇͉͐̑̊e̻͞c͙͇̆̏h̺̗̭̙̑̓̄͝), I will be making a note of what is being said, so those who have a harder time can understand it, but I thought it was an awesome effect lol.

*Special shoutout to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for the GLITCH dividers!

Now without further ado!

D̢͙̯̦̙͎̎̽̇̔̾͊̿̚͜͟A̜̱̫̭̽̌̔̄R̫̬͊̈̊͜Ļ̮̗̲̤͎̙̅͒̿͒̿͊͡Í̱̮͑́͢͜͠N͔̗̘͈̲̤̳̉̅̉̀͗̔͠͝ͅG̢̻̱͐́̆͜͠

(Hazbin Hotel)

When Alastor made a deal with Charlie Morningstar, he knew it was a chance for him to ascend the ranks. Now that it's been weeks since the events of the extermination battle, Alastor decides it's time to collect…what he didn't expect was to slowly fall for the Princess of Hell. But hey, a deal's, a deal.

Chapter 3: Put Your Head on My Shoulder

Also available HERE on AO3. Haven't started yet? Beginning HERE on AO3!

Eventually will be NSFW below the cut!!

- FLASHBACK (7 Years ago) - 

The winds snapped around him like lashes from a whip. Kissing and slicing into his skin, leaving marks of blood in their wake. A pattern of scars that would speak volumes. The great radio demon had managed to escape. Coming too close to meeting his end at the hands of that filthy screen-faced fuck. 

Alastor was seething with rage. His powers had all but dwindled down to nothing, leaving the once power overlord defenseless. Thankful that he had at least been able to take his own pound of flesh from the head of the Vees, before fleeing for his life. Now, past the outskirts of Pentagram City, he found himself. Deep beyond the inner rings of Hell. Cast out into the bowels of which even Lucifer himself had long since abandoned. 

“This can’t be happening.” he groaned, struggling just to continue on. Gradually his movements became slower. Like walking in quicksand, he struggled with every step until he was all but crawling along the ground. The sounds of screaming and radio signals crackling in his ears. And for the first time, Alastor felt truly helpless. It was then, in his most desperate hour, he heard HER voice again.   

“Oh, poor sweet Alastor… what brings thee to my garden?” she asked, waiting for his response as she remained still hidden in the shadows. 

No. Not now, Alastor pleaded inside, feeling the presence growing closer. Unable to leave, she manifested before him. Enormous and horrid, her mouth opening up to reveal her slithering tongue. Splicing itself into tentacles and covered in glowing eyes. Sprouting like sores on its spines as she came closer and closer.  

The sight of her alone could destroy even the most robust of sinners. Like a mutation, colored in shades of black, red, and white she continued evolving—changing. Finally becoming fully formed as she reached Alastor. The radio demon, forcing himself to look up at her. The entity, now appearing as a rather normal looking woman. 

Dark black hair, fading into crimson red, was long and luscious. Her beautiful face, partially obscured beneath a wide-brim black hat. She was imposing to look at. Her Long, red overcoat flowing in the hellish winds. Endless chains coming from the depths of her coats. Emerging from its checkered pattern of black and white, spreading out into the abyss and traveling to Alastor.   

“My favorite pet… Seems we have run into a bit of trouble. Tsk tsk.” she taunted. Alastor’s smile flickering into a snarl for a moment before he spoke.

“Roo! Fancy seeing you here. I—” he struggled, coughing up blood as his radio wave effect crackled in and out. His chest still aching from his wounds and his powers holding on for dear life before he finally collapsed onto the ground. The shadows and spirits he commanded, spinning around him with nowhere to go. Roo smiled, squatting down beside him. Taking Alastor’s chin in her hands and raising his gaze up to meet her. 

“Poor Alastor, letting the TV bother you again I see. You know I can’t have that… after all who else would bring me such delicious souls if not for you.” she hummed, her otherworldly tongue coming out to swirl over his cheek. Alastor knew she wouldn’t let him off that easily. They had made a pact when Alastor first arrived in Hell. The newly deceased sinner, confused and bloodied from his fall into the pit when he saw Roo had been waiting. 

Somehow, she knew he was coming. Standing by in the darkness, watching for him—ready to offer the once proud New Orleans radio host, turned serial killer, an opportunity he would never be able to refuse. Her wicked hand, held out to him, tendering him the chance to become Hell’s greatest overlord. To continue his work started on the Earthly plane. 

All Alastor had to do was agree that every soul who had fallen short of his debts, she’d be allowed on them. Alastor would have full control of the rest, using them, and his newly given powers, to ascend the ranks. To the ambitious and blood lusting Alastor it was a deal that was too good to be true. They shook on it, Alastor and Roo now bound until his death. Alastor, learning quickly that his deal would eventually lead to his death.  

While the stipulations of their agreement had worked for a time, Roo quickly grew greedy. Trying to convince Alastor to go beyond the terms of their deal. Sending her souls when no breach of their contract was made. The sounds of overlords filling his radio waves as he slaughtered them, over and over again, began haunting the rings of Hell. So much so that the mere mention of his name incited fear in their souls. 

HIs last attempt to feast on an overlord was Vox. The demon who had only nearly managed to escape, but not without first taking his swing at the radio demon. Now Alastor was hanging on by a thread. Looking into Roo’s soulless eyes and wondering if this was truly the end or if in exchange for more time, an even more binding deal would be necessary. 

After all, Roo was in fact the root of all Evil. Feeling as though she were equal, but opposite to God than Lucifer himself. A position she clutched tightly enough to bleed.

“I was so close.” Alastor stammered. His voice, weak and pathetic. It was a rare sight to see. If she were being honest, it tickled Roo to see him that way. She still needed him, however and their deal together was still very much not done. There was still more to gain from him, and Roo was never satisfied.  

Alastor suddenly felt like he could expand his lungs. A cold rush flowing through him and the pain, beginning to disappear and he had begun healing. His loyal shadow and souls, pulling themselves back inside him. The greenlight of his power radiating brightly once more. He felt refreshed—alive. 

“See now. All better.” Roo said smugly. Watching as Alastor rose up from the ground, ready to slaughter anyone who stood in his way. “Remember Alastor, you owe me.” she smiled. Winking at the radio demon. Before he could speak, he found himself somehow back in Pentagram City. 

A bit dazed and confused, he strolled down the streets just as he did before. Ready to rumble once again with Vox, after some careful planning, when he noticed that another extermination had already begun. Alastor, wondering to himself why it was happening again soon. Wasn’t only a few days ago that the angels descended to Hell, he asked himself. Sauntering over to Cannibal Town, where he managed to find a calendar hanging on the wall at Rosie’s favorite butcher shop.

When his eyes met with the date, his dials began spinning. Horns growing larger from his head in his panic. Making ungodly sounds that glitched and screeched loud enough to affect everyone traveling around him. Somehow, in the short time he felt he was with Roo, 7 years had passed.   

- Present Day -

Charlie didn’t know why, but she found herself frantically running towards Alastor’s radio tower. Crying hard, the tears spilling with every step. Angry at Vaggie for her betrayal, but even more angry at herself, knowing that she was responsible. That she had in fact betrayed their relationship long before Vaggie’s indiscretion. 

Slowly things had been driving a distance between them. Vaggie’s issues with the hotel, the revelation she was an angel—part of the extermination team to boot, and this thing with Alastor that Charlie couldn’t shake. All of it had been slowly pulling them apart and Charlie did nothing to stop it. Now here she was, running to the man who had stolen her affections. 

Charlie’s heart was raw and bleeding. Her emotions had never been so overwhelming. When she finally reached the door, she began banging, hard and loud, until it swung open. Alastor, spinning around in his chair to see Charlie looking more distressed than ever before. A sight that had unexpectedly made him feel a flicker of worry and concern.  

“Charlie! My dear, just in time for our little announcement.” Alastor beamed, rising up from the chair before coming to greet her. Charlie took one look at Alastor, standing there with what she hoped was a genuinely happy smile and hoping it was for her, when she rushed towards him.

“Alastor.” she cried, quickly burying her face into his shoulder. Alastor was taken back, finding himself unable to let go of her. Wrapping his arms around her as the princess sobbed against his coat. The sound of her cries, making him feel an unexpected pity—even sympathy for her.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” he asked, the words feeling odd as they fell from his lips. However odd it seemed; he still meant them. Charlie, looking up at him. Her eyes, full of sadness and pain. 

“Vaggie… she… I… we…” Charlie cried, feeling Alastor unexpectedly pulling her in even closer. Both Alastor and Charlie, unable to deny feeling one another’s heartbeats. Their rhythm, matching each other’s intensity. Wondering to themselves, if the other was feeling it too. 

“Shhh…” he said, patting the top over her head, “...it doesn't matter anymore.” he assured her. Charlie felt a smile tugging on her face just as Alastor pulled her off by the shoulders. Looking her dead in the eye. “Now my dear bride-to-be… I suggest we keep the details of our nuptials between us. Heaven knows what kind of madness that might cause for your family. You know should it be revealed that you had just… owed me one.” Alastor chuckled.  

He was right. The situation was bad enough without having everyone in Hell knowing all the gorey details. Charlie nodded her head in response. Alastor smiled, taking a hold of his microphone cane and tapping it against his hand until he found his preferred frequency. 

“We have a new journey to attend to.” Alastor assured her. Sending her a wink.

“Al… what are you?” Charlie began, Alastor placing a finger to her lips. The sound of his laughter ringing out all over Pentagram City. 

“Salutations my fellow sinners. Today is a special day indeed. I know you have all been waiting oh so—patiently for the new broadcast. So without too much more suspense… I thought we might open things with a bang or should I say a bell. Wedding bells.”

The broadcast was sent out all over. Heard by everyone within the city—every sinner, demon, overlord, imp, and hellhound. All of them Wondering what the fuck the radio demon was going on about. Their answer came fast when before they knew it, Alastor asked Charlie to join him on the mic. Their ears piqued as they waited with bated breath.

“...It’s about time I settled down. Asking my beautiful, darling Charlotte Morningstar for her hand… so whaddya say Charlie, will you marry me?” Alastor asked her. The broadcast, finding its way to Lucifer who was halfway across the city in his palace. Spitting out his food when he heard what Alastor had to say. The king of Hell swatting a stack of rubber ducks across the room. Feeling like his skin was crawling at the news. Immediately searching for his phone to call Charlie. Thinking that he’d be well on his way to stopping this soon.

Back at the tower Charlie began fidgeting with her hands. “Um… uh….” she mumbled. Stalling for time while she battled herself inside. The will of her heart and mind at odds. 

She knew what she had to do, this bit was all just for show. Neither one of them wanted the rest of Hell to know the truth. The stench of it wouldn’t be good on either of them. Charlie swallowed back her reservations and looked over to Alastor. “Yes. I will marry you.”

The town was in an uproar. The conversation on everyone’s lips was only about the enigmatic couple. “Oh, I had no idea they were an item.” said one of the sinners who had stopped on the street beside a hellhound in the Pride ring. Another in the Lust ring, mentioning that they were actually perfect for one another if everyone thought about it. There was no escaping it now, everyone would know now. 

In Cannibal Town, an engagement celebration had begun. The crowd, cheering at the news of their delightful princess and Alastor getting ready to tie the knot. Rose, however, was sitting quietly on her veranda. Munching on a few lady fingers, when the broadcast caught her attention. “Hmm… Alastor, just what are you up to?” she asked herself. 

The news had even reached the depths of V Tower. Vox was sitting in his office, feet propped up as he casually watched 666 News while going over some plans. Suddenly anchor Katie Killjoy came on the screen. His attention was captured. 

“Thanks for nothing Tom, and now for more amusing news… Seems everyone’s favorite radio demon overlord and the princess of Hell are set to tie the knot. While no details have been disclosed at this time. You can be sure we will keep you up to date on their upcoming nuptials.” she reported, a glimmer of sarcasm and resentment present in her tone.

The screens around him began shorting out. Glitching and pixelating, covering them completely from left to right. Vox began digging his fingers into the control console. How? Why? 

“Alastor and fucking Charlotte Morningstar?!” he raged, instantly coming to the conclusion that Alastor was making a power play. “That motherfucker!” Vox said, ripping one of the screens off the wall. Tossing it out into the hall just as Velvette had been walking towards him. Cautiously peeking her head in the door frame, noticing Vox’s bad mood. Velvette, relishing a chance to worsen it further. 

“Hmm… What's up your ass now?” she asked. Vox practically heaving, desperately wanting to taste Alastor’s blood. 

“That noisy little fuck has managed to convince Lucifer’s daughter to marry him.” he growled. Velvette, cocking an eyebrow at him before laughing her head off. 

“Jealous?” she asked him, a big smirk on her face. Vox was ready to tear her throat out but tried his best to compose himself. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” he growled. 

“Let him have her. Why the fuck should we care?” Velvette asked, refusing to let the news ruffle any of her feathers. Vox clearly wasn’t going to be satisfied with that answer. Angry that Alastor had managed to come up with yet another way to gain power. Thinking to himself that there was no way the princess and him were actually in love. 

“Because it gives him more control, you idiot.” Vox began, knowing he had to do something to put a stop to it. “Wonder how things will blow over once they are exposed for the frauds they are. Maybe that outdated, crackling son of bitch will be held accountable.” Vox mused. 

“Just what do you have in mind?” Velvette asked him. The TV screens, all beginning to flash with images of Alastor and Charlie. Then images that appeared like they were from cameras surveilling the city. The system, bouncing from image to image, trying to locate the two of them. Vox, laughing maniacally before answering.

“You will see. Everyone will see.” 

Charlie left the radio tower with unexpected butterflies in her belly. Her head, still however, screaming at her to run. Struggling with herself and the right thing to do. Just as the broadcast had ended, as if On cue, came the call from her father. Lucifer, insisting she get her “royal ass” down to the palace before he’d find a way to shut down the hotel. She knew he would be angry, how could he not, but not this angry. 

Alastor and her father were oil and water. There was no way he was going to accept this marriage without a fight. Charlie, deciding to do her best to convince him. Gathering up her courage and putting on a brave face. Hoping that between the hotel and her father’s house, she could come up with a believable enough excuse for him to let it go. A tall order indeed. Just as she stepped outside, she immediately bumped into someone. 

The impact, sending them down to the ground. Charlie panicked, reaching out her hand for them to take. Feeling stupid for having not seen them when she noticed the hint of wings beneath the person’s silver cloak—It was Emily. 

“Emily! Oh, shit I’m sorry. What are you doing here?” Charlie asked, hoisting the angel up from the ground and helping to brush her off. 

“Charlie, it’s so good to see you again! I was coming to talk to you about something, but gosh I just overheard some of your… um… people… saying that you are getting married?!” the angel smiled, her eyes shining with anticipation and excitement. 

“Oh ah… yeah that's right. Alastor and I. Who knew.” Charlie laughed nervously. Emily jumped at her, arms quickly flying around Charlie’s shoulders as Emily squeezed her tightly in a hug. 

“Oh gosh, that is such wonderful news and oh man I am so sorry to bug you while you are planning… but I need to speak with you.” she continued, her face turning a bit more serious than before. 

“What's wrong? Has heaven decided that—” Charlie began before Emily cut her off. The smile on her face, now practically sparkling.

“Your friend, Sir Pentious… he is with us in Heaven! He has been absolved Charlie, you did it!” she explained. This time Charlie grabbed hold of Emily. 

“What?! Are you sure?!” she asked, almost shaking the poor angel in her excitement. Rejoicing and crying as the smile on her face grew wide enough to rival even Alastor’s.

“It’s true he arrived a while ago. He’s proof that the sinners can be redeemed!” Emily grinned. 

“How? I mean I know how. Fucking Hell we did it!” Charlie cheered, the excitement sending her head spinning. She felt the need to sit down for a moment. “Wait Emily… How come you are just now telling me? It’s been months now… I have been waiting for another letter and nothing…” Charlie asked.

“Oh Charlie, that's why I had to come see you in person. Someone has been intercepting our letters. I don't know who, but I have it on good authority it’s one of Adam’s crew. Don't you worry though, I plan on getting to the bottom of it.” Emily assured her. “I have to go now before anyone gets suspicious, but keep your head up girl, you got this!.” 

“Thank you.” Charlie said as Emily disappeared into thin air. The news was powerful, just what Charlie needed to feel better about everything that had happened between Vaggie and Alastor. While she wished she had time to go wake everyone up and scream their success from the rooftop, there was still the matter of attending to her Father. The boss of Hell was waiting impatiently for his daughter’s arrival. Charlie would do well not to keep him waiting. 

By mid-afternoon Angel and Husk had managed to stumble out of bed. Husk, going straight back to minding the bar as Angel slumped over the sofa in the parlor. The night had proven to be quite enjoyable, the two of them finally consummating their affections, that up until now Husk had been loath to admit. The former cat overlord, softening up to the porn star with a big heart after all.

Angel began flipping through the TV channels. Sending Niffty off to grab him a bite to eat and occasionally making lewd comments at Husk, when he caught a repeat of Katie Killjoy’s segment. Angel’s mouth dropped to the floor. Dumbstruck with the words he had just heard from outta the old cunt’s mouth. 

They had missed Alastor’s special broadcast. Too hungover, and blissfully snoozing, after a night of unbridled passion to have listened. “Well fuck me.. You hearin’ this shit whiskers?” Angel asked, jolting up off from his spot and over to the bar. 

“I told you not to call me that… Already up my ass after one night.” Husk huffed under his breath, a slight smile peeking out from beneath his annoyance. 

“I believe you were up my ass schnookums, but seriously we got a problem. Charlie and Smiles are getting hitched. That’s gotta be a joke right?” Angel asked, cringing at the thought. 

“Charlie’s in love with Alastor.” Niffty chimed in, handing Angel over his sandwich and climbing up to sit on the bar. Husk insincerely smiled,  pushing her gently off the side of the bar. Niffty scurrying off somewhere they didn’t care to know. 

“My money is on Charlie getting herself into some deep shit.” Husk commented. “He’s no good. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“What are we gonna do?” Angel asked, Husk letting out a sigh. Resigning himself to having to help figure things out once again. 

“Let’s go talk to her.” he suggested, ready to round the bar and head upstairs. Taking Angel with him to Charlie’s room, when Niffty shot out in front of him. Halting them two of them mid-stride. 

“Charlie is out! Left this morning after the broadcast.” she informed them. Husk, face palming hard as he tried to quickly formulate a plan. 

”Nift, you keep watch over the hotel. Me and…Pookie are gonna go find our Princess.” Husk said. Niffty, nodding in response. With that Husk and Angel left to find her. Unbeknownst to them, Alastor had been lurking in the shadows. Over hearing their little conversation and beginning to wonder himself where Charlie had run off too. 

Deciding that he should be keeping a closer eye on her just in case. Having the budding need to protect her, when suddenly a thought hit him. If Charlie was out and the news about their wedding was going around like wildfire, surely someone who wanted to get at him might take the opportunity to use her against him. Instantly the radio demon fled from the hotel, determined to try and find Charlie before anyone else.   

Charlie was strolling down the center of Pentagram City, ready to have a one on one with her dad. Hoping to convince him that she and Alastor were a real couple. Knowing all too well that things were far from the fantasy romance she had spun in the deep recesses of her mind. As she walked, the residents of the city stopped to talk with her. 

Well wishes and congratulations, coming from all around. Her people, seeming to be truly happy for her. If only she could be happy too. It wasn’t very long into her journey, when she reached the road that would lead her to her father’s.  Unexpectedly finding herself face to face with Vox as she turned the corner. The one overlord she knew Alastor absolutely detested above all others. 

While she had hoped to avoid him, it was too late. He had caught sight of her, yelling her name from across the street. Bringing with him a flood of press from 666 News and other outlets. Cameras and reporters coming out of the woodwork to surround them. Charlie, wondering if Vox had planned this, knowing that it most likely had. Nothing would make him happier than finding a way to get to Alastor. 

“Charlie! Ms. Morningstar! I hear congratulations are in order. What are you doing all this way without your… handsome beau?” Vox asked, practically choking on the words.  

“I ah… well…” Charlie tried to answer, tapping her pointer fingers together. Overwhelmed with all the flashing lights and cameras in her face. Vox was never happier, grinning as he saw how flustered and upset she had become. It was only a matter of time before he’d get the truth out of her.

“Tell us Charlie… is it true that you and Alastor have been making it all up?” one reporter asked. Charlie’s eyebrows raised and her teeth clenched as she wanted to scream back at them. 

“There have been reports that the marriage is a sham, can you comment?” another reporter asked. 

“No that's not… I…” she said, trying to think of something to say. Something that had more weight than just telling them it was real, that it wasn’t just for show. Words that maybe could even convince her it was true. 

“Please… come on you guys. Of course Charlie and Alastor aren’t faking their romance.” Vox said, his face and demeanor suggesting otherwise. It was about that time that Lucifer had come looking for his daughter. Every television had his little princess plastered on every channel. She was in trouble and he knew it. 

By the time he reached her, so had Angel and Husk. All three of them, unable to get to her from behind the hordes of press that had encircled her and Vox. It was clear that this had all been a set up. Lucifer, Husk, and Angel, Watching poor Charlie becoming more and more panicked as the press berated her and there was nothing they could do. 

Lucifer had had enough, pushing through the crowd. Only getting about half way to Charlie when out of nowhere Alastor materialized beside her. His tentacles and horns on full display. The crowd that had been keeping her captive, backing off in terror before the radio demon came back into his usual form. Standing beside Charlie as he took her hand in his. 

Instantly Charlie felt breathless. Was Alastor actually holding her hand? What other choice did they have if they were going to keep up the facade. The small gesture was enough to send her heart pounding once again. Alastor speaking to address Vox and the rest of the crowd. 

“Oh Vox, Y̲͐Ŏ͈̮͡U̅ͅ ̡̜͘͠A̧̩̻̻̓͌̏̓̚͟N͉͓͂̋N͕̚O̢̘̬̬̎̑̐͡Y͍̼͒͗͊͜I̹̾N̗̰̝̪̩̈́͑̓͊̕G͖̰̐̉ ̜͉͇͕̊̊̇̾̏͢L̗̜̩͈̱̒̏̚͡͞Ȋ̳Ť͓̱̼̑̆T̙̣̮͈͔́̂̑͛̀Ḷ͎͑́E ̢͉̎̃F̢̦̰͉͉̀̾̇̌͠Ȗ̺C̨͕͋͘͟͡K͚͖͙̅̾̒̅͟. You have been such a poor reporter. Maybe staying in your tower is more suitable for your talents.” he snapped, sending a devilish grin Vox’s way. The overlord, wanting so badly to punch Alastor’s smug face. He knew this might be the only chance he may get to screw him over. It was now or never. 

“Well Alastor, if the two of you are so IN LOVE… why don’t you prove it?” Vox hissed. Both Alastor and Charlie, frightened by being called out on their bluff. They had to do something to prove it, but what? Her father and friends, all watching, waiting—wondering what they would do next. 

Just as Vox was beginning to feel that he had accomplished his goal, Charlie grabbed hold of Alastor’s coat. Pulling him close to her and pressing her lips to his. The crowd audibly gasped as their lips met. Alastor, too, was in shock. Finding it hard not to close his eyes to the feel of Charlie’s mouth on his. 

Was Charlie enjoying this? Was he? Alastor wasn’t sure, but he met her half way—and more. Dipping her before the crowd. His willing tongue, sliding into her mouth with ease. Dancing along with hers in the most sincere kiss Charlie had ever felt before. The princess’s eyes, opening a moment in surprise before closing them once again. Both of them lost in the moment. 

Alastor was wondering what had come over him. Never before had he felt this way with anyone, but when they kissed, it was undeniable. Something was happening to him. On the inside, Charlie too was overwhelmed, pretending that he felt for her what she felt for him. The crowd began cheering around them as the kiss was broadcasted across all the rings of Hell. Vox pissed off more than ever before as the two of them seemed to have foiled his plans once again.  

Roo laughed, the radio waves having just reached her. The news of Alastor’s engagement to the princess of Hell was now on her radar. Roo, knowing that she would now more than ever, need to keep a close eye on Alastor. “Oh Alastor, just what are you up to?” 

Notes:

Y̲͐Ŏ͈̮͡U̅ͅ ̡̜͘͠A̧̩̻̻̓͌̏̓̚͟N͉͓͂̋N͕̚O̢̘̬̬̎̑̐͡Y͍̼͒͗͊͜I̹̾N̗̰̝̪̩̈́͑̓͊̕G͖̰̐̉ ̜͉͇͕̊̊̇̾̏͢L̗̜̩͈̱̒̏̚͡͞Ȋ̳Ť͓̱̼̑̆T̙̣̮͈͔́̂̑͛̀Ḷ͎͑́E ̢͉̎̃F̢̦̰͉͉̀̾̇̌͠Ȗ̺C̨͕͋͘͟͡K͚͖͙̅̾̒̅͟- You annoying little fuck.

[dayseedrawz2]

Okokok, Its time to stop mentally preparing... (for Pomni AND me in this case cuz I sorta regret doing this-) this part is probably gonna be longer than the first

[also tagging @sm-baby again. I'm sorry if I'm infiltrating you notifications but if I tagged you in the first it makes sense to tag you in the rest of the parts]

Here is part one of the Fic:

Okay now here we go again...

PART 2 OF:

☆Settings for two☆

Pomni, not having much to do while waiting for Caine and the others, just sat on the floor on the stage. Letting herself stare off into space, with the thought of escape still circling her head.

Caine was gone for a bit longer than she thought he'd be. She thought he would just snap his fingers and bring the cast out against their will. Ya know, like the oblivous AI that he is. Or at least he appeard to be to her... Then she heard the distant bustling and chatting of the others getting closer:

"Do we really have to do this for her??"

"I guess so. But I don't quite mind."

"Yeah, whatever. I just think it's stupid that he's involving us..."

"The only thing stupid about it is that he's involving you, Jax."

"Oh, settle down, guys! I think it's really sweet of him!"

"Shut up, Dollface!"

"C-can you guys stop arguing..?"

"Oh! Of course! Sorry, Gangle."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever..."

"Let's just get the day over with..."

Pomni got up as they all lined up side by side in the center of the room. But She was still a bit confused...

"What on earth were they talking about..?"

The thought lingerd with her, but it didn't invade her mind as much as the inevitable effect of her plan. But her train of thought again was interrupted by the voice of Caine bursting into their muffled conversations:

"Good morning again, my superstars!"

He swooped around the corner, approaching from the direction of the hallway.

"I hope you all are excited for today's adventure! This one is sure to be a doozy!"

He began to explain the rules of the adventure. "Something Something, the grounds, blah blah blah, Something about the Carnival? Or perhaps it was the Lake?" Not like she would know. She wasn't paying much attention. Again, all that was on her mind was the idea of leaving. When finally she tuned back in to Caine as he wrapped up his speach:

"Alright everyone! I hope you all enjoy the adventure! Stay safe and have fun!"

*Snap!*

And POOF! Caine and the others was teleported to who knows where.

Execpt, for Pomni?

She started to panic a bit:

"Im still here!? Should've known not to get my hopes up... Maybe he set that door there as a trap like the others..."

Well, at least she was alone...

*Poof!*

"Pomni!? What're you still doing here!?"

"Oh God..."

He snapped in attempt to fix what he thought was some sort of bug on his end.

Nothing happened.

Another snap.

Nothing.

He began to grow visibly frustrated, continually snapping as he spoke:

"M-my apologies, dear! There seems to be something wrong with-"

He turned to see the blue door slightly open. Pomni grew worried:

"Oh god... Did he see me in there?? Is he gonna do something to me??"

To her surprise, upon connecting the dots, he simply laughed it off:

"Haha! It appears someone got into the old settings room!"

"..."

"I told Bubble to quit messing with code without permission! I'll be giving him a stern talking to later..."

Though still tense, she let out a releived sigh:

"Sorry again, my dear! I guess this means you'll have to sit out of today's adventure!"

"I-it's fine, Caine. If that's all, I'll just head back to my room now-"

"W-wait!"

His response was a bit more panicked than usual:

"I-I'm afraid you can not go to your room at this time..."

This, of course, alarmed her:

"Wh- I- why not..?"

"You should be in the adventure right now, so even if you tried, the place would glitch like crazy!"

"Oh... well, uh- now what?"

"I... I'm not sure. This hasn't really happened before..."

"Mhmm..."

"Yup..."

It was a bit off-putting seeing Caine this quiet. Normally, he's always bugging her and the others with his antics. Not that she would prefer if he did, just- it didn't feel right that he wasn't.

Caine to must have realized just how akward it felt. He attempted to continue the conversation:

"Ya know, lately a lot of things have happened here that haven't happened before since you got here! It's pretty funny now that I think about it!"

"R-really? Like what..?"

"Well, if I knew, I would tell you! Haha!"

She wasn't quite sure what he was implying. "Was it some sorta joke? A reference?"

"S-sorry, what? I don't quite get it..."

"Well, as a not human being, I have been trying to learn as much as I can from you humans! I want to make sure that this place is as normal and comfortable as it can be!"

As he continued, he seemed more down to earth than he usually was:

"I tried to ask everyone for information about the human world, but either they say they don't remember or they just don't answer me at all."

This answer from Caine caught Pomni very off guard. She didn't expect him to open up to something like this. Especially to her.

"Gee, well- I-"

"But the feedback you gave me this morning, It made me realize. Perhaps I have been asking the wrong questions?"

She wasn't sure how to answer. Never has she been good at giving good feedback, but still she decided to give her best- "advice" You could say.

"You mean you should ask more about their personal issues with the place? Well- it might be different for everyone, but it might give you at least a few of the answers you're looking for? I-"

She was cut off by Caine rapidly shaking her hand:

"Why thank you again, my dear, for your feedback! Hopefully, this will improve everyone's stay!"

The rapid hand-shaking continued:

"Y-you're welcome?"

The shaking finally stopped, making Pomni almost fall forward:

"Well then, I suppose we should wait for the others' return."

"Yeah... I guess we'll be here for a while, heh."

He checked his WackyWatchTM:

"My! It's already almost over! They will be here any minute now!"

"Wait, really?"

"If my WackyWatchTM is right! It's as if it only started not even 5 minutes ago! Ha! That's one more odd thing that's happened since you've been here! Care to explain that one?"

Pomni had to think about that one for a moment. She hadn't had this sort of experience for a while:

"Well, if i remember, humans usually are unaware of time when doing something fun or being around someone that they enjoy being around."

This answer seemed to peak his interest even more:

"I am surprised that you are even willing to share this information with me! Is there anything else?"

As their conversation continued, Pomni thought:

"Huh... maybe this guy really does have good intentions..."

And there! Cut! End part! I can't write anymore-

Stay tuned for the third and final part!

(It is 1 am for me rn and I started at like 10 or 11 oh my goodness)

[fennelrabbit]

Now that people have had time to watch and think about the miniseries, can we agree that Fionna and Cake was really bad, or at least disappointing?

I'm very happy to hear some different opinions if anyone wants to try and change my mind, but now I've had some time to digest what I watched, I can still say my bad feelings on the episodes are exactly the same.

I haven't been able to mention Fionna and Cake's characterisation much, so I'll try and make a bulleted list (read more)

° Cake didn't grow or have to change at all during the miniseries. She was selfish and never had to face any consequences for her choices. Her relationship with Fionna is not wholesome and friendly like Jake is to Finn, but more parasitic. Fionna does things for Cake, and in return Cake doesn't abandon her. Cake still helps Fionna in fights and doesn't want her to get hurt, however Cake doesn't really appreciate Fionna and all that she does for her.

It's particularly bad that Cake isn't very bothered by the fact that the trade-in for a magical world is Simon's sanity, which is another moment of selfishness. This scene is never addressed later, which unintentionally implies that if someone isn't benefitting Cake, she doesn't want to care about them anymore.

° Fionna was also poorly handled. Although the show tries to say that it won't treat Fionna in a sexist way by swapping her skirt for shorts, a large part of Fionna's story still revolves around romance and her relationships with men (platonic or romantic). In fact, there's a pretty substantial lack of female characters (barring Fionna) that have any stage presence or do anything meaningful in the story. The episode with apocalypse PB and Marcy was a refreshing addition, with an interesting conflict between the two women, but it's a shame that they couldn't be included in the larger conflict, as characters can jump across the universe and the story would've really benefitted from their inclusion.

Fionna's character started pretty strongly, introducing her boredom and apathy towards her life (that being a capitalist nightmare of endless job hunting just to pay for rent), but didn't do enough to develop this plotline. It's true that having Fionna stay in Ooo wouldn't push her to grow as a person - Fionna needs to find a way to find happiness in the life that she's given.

However, much like Simon was sent back to his shitty life and basically ordered by the narrative to 'get over it' and 'stop being sad', nothing changes in Fionna's original world. Fionna is sent back to the same old world, with the same old problems, and nothing is really resolved. No solutions are presented to Fionna inside of FionnaWorld, even though her situation is very difficult and not something that can just be fixed with 'life's not so bad'. Fionna should've found a way to experience the thrill of adventure in her world, in a way that wouldn't endanger everyone around her.

° Bringing the farmworld characters to FionnaWorld in the end was a total cop-out, and should've resulted in damaging the multiverse. They did not need to be there.

° Fionna and Cake causing things to glitch around them (damaging the multiverse???) was never resolved or followed up on after Act 1. It's like the story forgot that plot point, which really lowered the stakes.

° Scarab was a weak villain. Though his first episode had a strong introduction, he was very undeveloped, and came across as more of a comedic pest than an actual threat. The final fight between Fionna and Scarab were laughably boring, and I never felt like the characters were in danger at all. One of the weakest finales the show's ever done.

° Rip to Betty, folks. You'd think we'd finally get some backstory on her character beyond being "Simon's gf/love interest", but no. We know she has a mum, I guess? And that she's impulsive. Betty has officially been fridged by the narrative THREE TIMES, and will now forever remain as Simon's dead/absent girlfriend. This is very sad, and not to mention, very anti feminist. We will never know who Betty is outside of Simon.

(She doesn't even get to have a real conversation with Simon as Golbetty. She has a couple of sentences, and then gets on the stupid bus. Betty literally has no voice in the story).

°The dialogue was very weak. I don't have much to say here really, the dialogue was just very basic and badly paced. Subtext doesn't exist in this story. At some point, one of Finn's children literally blurts out that their dead mum made their soup. Very subtle exposition, guys.

° I don't like how Fionna and Cake treated Simon at all. The entire time they were both self centered and very annoying, and their relationship with Simon wasn't developed that much. When Simon described Fionna and Cake as his "friends", it wasn't believable in the slightest. They have no chemistry or real connection as a group.

Well, that's all I could remember for now.

Anyway, feel happy to share your thoughts Adventure Time fans, I'd be happy to hear it!

[xoxo-sarah]

Bye Bye Baby // First Heartbreak

↝a/n: I kinda enjoyed writing this. Feedback is appreciated. ALSO next part of I Wanna Yours will be coming out soon!

↝pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!reader

↝ Warning: angst, break up, first heartbreak, out of character Robin (?), Mention of a character death, not correctly lined up lyrics with the Moments, timelines are all over the place- bare with me, not proofread

↝⎙ 7.5.24

(Lyrics are Bold.)

It wasn't just like a movie

The rain didn't soak through my clothes, down to my skin

Usually in movies, when the main character gets their heart broken, it is raining, becoming a dramatic scene that every teen girl was supposed to cry their eyes out over when seeing.

Your heart laid in a million pieces and there wasn't a rain drop in sight. This wasn't what you expected your first heartbreak to be like.

I'm driving away and I, I guess you could say

This is the last time I'll drive this way again

2 weeks later, no word from anyone. Not Robin, not your friends. You were tempting to get in your car and at drive until Hawkins and the memories faded into the far, far distance.

Lost in the gray and I try to grab at the fray

'Cause I, I still love you but I can't

"Robin, I..." The phone was held tightly by your hand close to your ear. You seemed to stay by the phone for the past week. Waiting for someone, anyone to reach out. Most of your hope was for the girl you prayed to see-hold...again. Before you could say anything else, you put the phone back into its holder, like you have at least 10 times.

Bye, bye, to everything I thought was on my side

The movie you used to rent, the one you loved so much you eventually bought- skipped. Many nights sitting on the couch of your family home, cuddled up with the person you loved, watching and laughing, maybe crying until it hurt, skipped. Bits and pieces breaking out on the VHS. The tape was glitching until the tape broke, the actual tape inside becoming a mess. It was as if the black block looked up at you, laughing. Mocking.

Bye, bye, baby

The pillow she'd barely sleep on, opting to sleep laying on your chest, somehow smelt like her. Not a purfume of cologne, her scent. One of the many things you loved, craved about her. You didn't know if you should wash it or hold it close, wishing with every ounce of your being that it was her instead. If it was her, the scent would never fade.

I want you bad but it's come down to nothing

You promised yourself to stop trying to contact her. If you had any self-respect, you'd stop. However, you couldn't help the feeling you'd get when the phone rang. It was embarrassing.

And all I have is your sympathy

Robin stood in front of you, fiddling with her rings, not looking you in the eye. She couldn't bring herself to do so.

"So, you're breaking up with me?" After a moment, she slowly nodded. "Can I ask why?"

Her heart broke for you when your voice broke.

You didn't blame her, you never could do such a thing. She didn't feel the same and that's okay.

It didn't make it hurt any less.

'Cause you took me home but you just couldn't keep me

"Y/n/n, I really am sorry." Walking towards your house, it was pure silence, only the sniffles from you and the rock that would slide under Robin's shoes, making her kick it along the side walk. Coming up to your drive way, she broke the silence.

Bye, bye, baby

Bye, bye, baby

Nodding, you continued towards the porch, wanting nothing more than drag yourself into your room and sob into your pillow, or maybe in the shower where you could blame the water for the liquid rolling down your face instead.

The picture frame is empty

On the dresser, vacant just like me

Week 1 your mom had done you the favor of getting everything of hers out of the room. Well, first she wanted you to get out of your room, but deciding on plan b as she sympathized with your first heartbreak. Thankfully she didn't think of Robin's pillow, but she took the picture. It was of you and Robin before a pep rally. She was in her band outfit while you were in normal clothes, ready to stare at your girlfriend in adoration at her talent, not paying attention to whoever was supposed to be the center of attention at the event. Your mother had caught the photo, always being one for capturing moments. It honestly hurt her to get rid of the picture. She really adored her.

I see your writing on the dash

"This car is literally ancient."

The old Chevrolet Bel Air was all dusty, your father not having cleaned it in probably 20 years, where the car sat in the garage, untouched. He had given it to you after you finally got your license, a spur of the moment. The car was a gift, so you didn't gripe about the dust. What did concern you was the way the car could probably fall apart from not running for so long, but surprisingly held up well. "Obviously." Robin sat forward, rubbing her finger on the dash, writing something, her finger coming back with a black mark.

Your nose scrunched in disgust. "Don't do that."

She made a sound of disgust before wiping it on her jeans.

"All jokes aside, it's a pretty car."

You couldn't agree more. The pretty red paint job was shiny after the car wash, almost blinding.

Then back to your hesitation

Reaching across, your hand making contact with hers, fingertips running up the inside of her wrist, moving up to intertwine with her slender fingers. She hesitated, looking down at your hand as you continued paying attention to the road in front of you. She relaxed her hand, letting your fingers intertwine into one comforting moment.

I was so sure of everything

As your fingers met, your lips twitched into a small smile, glancing over at her looking out at the blurred trees and houses. God, you would never get over her side profile.

Everything I thought we'd always have

Your eyes watched the old couple hold each other as they walked over to the bence a little aways from the park. As long as you went to this park, even as a kid, the couple had walked to the park, talking about whatever they wished, never seeming to run out of things to talk about. The women's wrinkled old hand moved to throw bread crumbs around, struggling to bend her knees to sit down on the old wooden bench, having her husband attempt to help. The old man tried to smile. Although it might have been a struggle to get placed, or do much of anything, you could tell the old couple loved every second of it because they did it together, they went through it together. Hearing commotion from beside you, you turned, seeing Robin's blushing face as she tried to clean the juice stain on the picnic quilt. She apologized profusely, trying to dab and drag with the napkins. The stain wasn't budging but you didn't mind, simply staring at her before you assured her it was fine.

Guess I never doubted it

"I adore you." You noticed every highlight she had gotten from the sun as you laid in your bed, the early sun lighting your room as you ran your hand through her hair. She hummed from her spot of your chest, sounding sleepy.

Then the here and the now floods in

Feels like I'm becoming a part of your past

Walking through the park, something made you look up, you didn't really know what.

A familiar brown head of hair was standing not that far away from the walking trail that you were on, subconsciously walking past where you had sat for a picnic with the person you would've easily grown old with, fed the bird with. She smiled at a red head, keeping a proximity that was obviously forced due to the peoples possible opinions that stood around.

Bye, bye, to everything I thought was on my side

Bye, bye, baby

You had to fight with yourself to turn away, look anywhere but her- them. For your heart's sake.

Your eyes landed on the bench. The empty bench.

I want you bad but it's come down to nothing

And all I have is your sympathy

When you went home, you couldn't help but ask your mom at dinner. "Mom, you know the couple who would go to the park and feed the birds?"

She looked up, her chewing slowing as she stared at you, before nodding. She swallowed before clearing her throat.

"Yes, Honey. Have you heard?"

"Heard what?"

Your mom glanced at your father from his spot at the table.

"The woman died a week ago, sweetie."

'Cause you took me home but you just couldn't keep me

Bye, bye, baby

As soon as you opened the door, you mother looked up from her place on the couch, smiling at your back. She always loved seeing how happy you were after dates with your girlfriend.

She was about to ask all about it before you turned around, lips trembling and tears cascading down your face. Her face fell as she got up, moving to comfort you.

"She broke up with me, mom." You sobbed in her arms, like you have plenty of times in your life. But this was different.

There's so much that I can't touch

Your sweet mother had put everything of Robin's in a cardboard box in the garage, ready anytime you wanted to do whatever- give it back or burn it, totally up to you. But every time you went into the garage, you ignored it. According to you, there wasn't even a box.

You're all I want but it's not enough this time

Speaking of the nonexistent box, you had reached for something hanging up behind it on the wall, something your father asked for when your arm bent, knocking the box forward and off the shelf. Everything scattered on the cold concrete floor. You huffed, bending down to pick everything up. Your fingers skimming over the soft clothing and knickknacks you bought her. Sitting the knocked over box upright, you began throwing everything in, trying not to pay too much attention to the old memories you were throwing without a care.

And all the pages are just slipping through my hands

And I'm so scared of how this ends

"Bug?"

Your father stood in the garage door, after not hearing from you after asking you to get the thing - that was long forgotten now- he came looking. He stopped, watching as you hunched over a cardboard box, looking up into the roof, trying to hold tears at bay. He frowned, moving forward and helping you up, leaving the box to deal with later, only wanting you to get inside.

Bye, bye, to everything I thought was on my side

"Steve," Acknowledging the man you saw before you, you couldn't help feeling a little happy about seeing an old friend, even if it was running into him in a store. You two had gotten along great, you considered him a friends. Robin trusted him with her life, so you would too.

He sent back a tight-lipped smile, seeming slightly uncomfortable with the whole interaction before he slipped past you.

Bye, bye, baby

"I'm doing great." Robin beamed, seemingly believing the smile you plastered on your face before she started up a conversation. It didn't help it was in the park yet again. There wasn't really any reason for you being here, the memories not doing you any good, but maybe a walk would. Atleast, that's what you told yourself. "Really great."

The lovesick expression she had in her face quite obviously wasn't for you, you're not sure it had ever been.

But she was happy.

I want you bad but it's come down to nothing

And all I have is your sympathy

Feeling weak at the knees after Robin walked off, you took refuge in the old bench. Oh the irony.

You were supposed to grow old with Robin and sit here. Grow old and feed the stupid bird with stupid bread that you'd eventually had trouble with with age. But Robin would help, smiling lovingly.

'Cause you took me home but you just couldn't keep me

Bye, bye, to everything I thought was on my side

"Hon?" Wiping at your eyes, you looked up. The old man kindly smiled, his old, shaky hands trying to motion to the spot beside you. "Oh no,-god. No- please. Sit." You scooted over more, wiping more at your eyes as he sat. You two sat in silence, not the usual uncomfortable silence most old men would have happening. This old man seemed like the sweetest man to ever walk this earth.

"She wasn't my first."

"What?" You asked because 1, you had barely heard him with how his voice wavered and 2, you weren't really sure what he was talking about.

"Becky, she wasn't my first girlfriend, or even my first wife."

"Oh." That had to be the old lady's name.

"I know you know of her, you'd watch with a smile as she fed the birds ever since you were little. Most people did." Above his lip wrinkled as he fondly smiled. "So many people have commented on our trip here. On our love."

"I'm sorry for your loss." You couldn't help but feel bad. He lost his woman who he loved so dearly that many people were as inspired by them as you were.

"Thank you, dear." He went back to before, going through the many comments people have made on the cute couple. "It took time. I had just got divorced. Becky nearly ripped my head off as I used a couple of my Pop's old pickup lines while I still wore a wedding ring. But she listened, she believed me. I'm thankful we both met that day, even under difficult circumstances. That girl might not have been the one, and that's okay. You'll find a Becky. Everyone will."

Bye, bye, baby

"They're adorable, aren't they?" You had turned behind, looking at your newly girlfriend, after seeing the old couple walk away, back to wherever they come from every evening. Robin hummed, running her fingers absentmindedly over the back of your hand, mind elsewhere. You two sat under the usual tree you always sat under.

I want you bad but it's come down to nothing

And all I have is your sympathy

"Thanks." Robin awkwardly grabbed the box out of your hand, moving deeper into her home to put the box down, seeing the top layer of everything she had left, not quite having the nerve to ask for everything back. Truthfully, she would've been fine if you threw it away or burned it.

'Cause you took me home but you just couldn't keep me

Oh, you took me home, I thought you were gonna keep me

"I'm proud of you, sweetie." You mother smiled at you across the table, reaching across the table to squeeze you hand before picking her fork up again. The proud smile never left her face. Your first heartbreak feels the worst for most people, the tears, the overthinking- scenarios running through your head of what you could've done to make her leave, what you could've done to make her stay. But you got over it. You're trying to heal and she couldn't be more proud.

Bye, bye, baby

Bye, bye, baby

•© 2021-2023 by xoxo-sarah•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [!I don't give permission!]

[jaemified]

SNOWED IN ! [ep.iii] | forced proximity

“literally hate you jeon wonwoo”

a barista xu minghao x receptionist reader smau

‘welcome to first class resort’

previous | MASTERLIST | next

updates ; every saturday-monday (new schedule bc work is kicking my ass</33)

synopsis ; after a long first week of their first quarter at work, y/n and her department just want to go out for burgers before being snowed in the hotel thanks to an unexpected snowstorm.

🏷️ ; @minhui896 @snowcake666 @kissesfrmwonwoo @wonqr

couldnt tag ; @/heelarious @/minghaossv

note - if u see those blank pages below this then the tweets ur phones not glitching its just to fix the format:)

read below the cut !

before any of the staff realized, their first week of the new quarter had flown by, and it was time to go home for the weekend (or, just saturday since they had to come back sunday).

the first concierge/receptionist unit (aka miyeon, y/n, minnie, chan, soonyoung, sakura, and mingyu) finished cleaning up their stations, before miyeon and y/n went to explain the night shift to the manager of the second unit from the other department.

“finally, just barely 20 minutes overtime. its only 10:20 but does anyone want to go for a late dinner with the other staff from our department?” miyeon suggested to her team of 6.

“yeah sure, ill need to find seungkwan first? he’s my ride home.” chan said as he started to walk down the hall as soonyoung called out, “make sure he brings down all of his staff too!”

“alright is that a yes from everyone else?”

“except for me, my auntie is visiting from japan and i need to be the one to pick her up from the airport.” sakura said while waving at everyone as she walked towards the exit.

the unit began to converse amongst themselves as they waited for the other staff in their department before they felt the ground shake the walls harshly, the winds howl as their speeds increased and the front doors be pushed open.

“earthquake! everyone get under the desk!” miyeon yelled out, her staff being her priority as manager.

they all took cover underneath the receptionists desk before hearing a loud thud after a few minutes, leaving the glass on some of the doors shattered.

everyone got up to see what the noise was, only for their faces to freeze in shock.

“s-snow?!” minnie exclaimed. “there wasnt any snow in the forecast this week at all! and its barely the first few weeks of winter..”

“im sure you’re just as shocked as any of us are. i hope sakuras safe, im just glad she got out. uh- y/n! call sakura while i try to reach seungkwan and josh? and someone go to check out the side and back doors! don’t go alone! the powers iffy right now.” miyeon safely instructed off the top of her head, trying to remain calm in front of her staff.

you pull out your phone, dialing sakuras number as you tap your foot repeatedly against the floor in impatience and worry.

she picked up after the first few rings, “hello?”

“sakura! where are you? are you okay?”

“no, yeah im fine. im just off the side of that bridge a few miles away from the hotel. but the real question is, are you guys okay?”

“you felt it? we’re fine. splitting up duties to ensure safety. and why are you off to the side off the bridge? i assumed you wouldve been at the airport already.”

“everyone in seoul felt it. but i think it hit you guys the hardest since it came closest from that direction. you know, some cars were flipping over as i was about to pull out the parking lot!”

“just glad youre safe, but if you see the hotel, how bad does it look like we’re snowed in?”

“pretty bad.. looks snowed in on all sides and that wall of snow is so tall it goes beyond the 9th floor. that’s at least 7 meters thick going outwards.”

“shit. alright. i gotta go, but get home safely okay? bye!”

after getting off the phone with sakura, y/n goes back as she sees some of her coworkers returning from opposite directions after looking at the exits.

“theyre all blocked. completely. the garage tunnel is entirely blocked through the stairs, elevator, and side door too.” mingyu and soonyoung reported with minnie following not far behind despite being told not to go alone.

“should we call the police?”

“ill try, i just got off the phone.” you said, but just as you swiped emergency call, you immediately had no bars. “what? anyone else have service?”

everyone pulled out their phones and held it in the middle so you could see, “guess the signal just dropped.” you muttered as you dialed 119 anyway.

‘we’re sorry, the person you are trying to reach is-’

“has anyone noticed chan hasnt come back yet? its been like, well over 20 minutes.” mingyu questioned while looking around the darkly (and eerily) illuminated halls.

as mingyu walked closer, he let out a loud scream as he saw a big snd ominous silhouette coming towards him before he realized it was the rest of the staff from their department.

miyeon walked passed mingyu, playfully slapping his back before meeting up with the other managers seungkwan and josh.

“hi wonwoo.” you smiled, wrapping your arms around him brightly as you were now reassured your childhood best friend was safe now that he was in your arms.

“hi y/n. you’re not hurt or anything right?” he asked while looking around your body as he kept his hands on your shoulders.

“no im completely fine. what took you guys so long to come out though?”

“we still had a lot to clean up, but then chan went to kwans restaurant then jun just HAD to make a quick meal for him before coming to us and it always takes long if the cafe is the last stop.”

after everyone discussing what had to be discussed, such as agreeing to try calling for help in the morning, etc, etc, wonwoo announced to everyone they’ll have to check out rooms for each other and that they had to be paired up into twos.

so of course, he made you and minghao be ‘roommates’ for the time being.

“are you serious??” minghao whisper shouted as he pulled wonwoo into a corner, watching as everyone walked towards the stairwell.

“you were the only two left.” wonwoo shrugged, playing it off even though he was aware minghao clearly knew about his schemes.

after climbing 29 flights of stairs (seeing as the elevator broke), you were all beyond exhausted.

so, you took your room key from miyeon before following minghao to your shared room.

you opened the door and sigh in relief as you saw the two beds separated by a nightstand, taking off your shoes before lying down.

minghao ran a hand through his hair as he walked out from the bathroom to get himself ready for bed.

he went under the white sheets and muttered a grumpy, “dont even try talking to me.” before turning out the light, leaving you with your thoughts in the darkness.