#if someone else knows a better translation pls help

[akimiiyo]

-> JEALOUSY

⌗synopsis : genshin men when they’re jealous.

⌗characters : diluc, kaeya, albedo, zhongli, childe, baizhu, xiao, thoma, ayato, heizou, wanderer, kazuha, tighnari, cyno, alhaitham, kaveh, neuvillette, lyney, dainsleif, dottore, pantalone, capitano, pierro.

⌗cw : gn!reader, not proofread, lowercase intended, probably ooc.

he’s a gentleman, he doesn’t get jealous often because he knows for a fact that he has nothing to worry about. you’ve never done anything that made him feel as if he had to watch out and he’s certain that you never will. although he can still get annoyed at the sight of another man flirting with you. it was his insisting even after you turned him down that angered him the most. nonetheless, he doesn’t let such people interfere with his composure. he’ll act mature and take you somewhere else once he sees that the man has no intentions of leaving you alone. as soon as you both get a moment alone together, however, he won’t hesitate to plant a few more kisses than usual. just in case, y’know?

diluc, zhongli, alhaitham, neuvillette, dainsleif, capitano.

he won’t admit it, but he gets jealous often. he doesn’t want to confront you about it because he believes it’s embarrassing and silly to feel that way. i mean, you’re his and he’s yours. you love him so much, there’s no need to worry, right? yet, he still can’t help but fume at the sight of strangers complimenting you. he can’t blame them, but he still would rather for people to be blind if that meant that they’d leave you alone. he’s aware of how unfair that would be, so he just stays quiet, either sulking or glaring at those people as you offer them a kind smile until you’re both alone where he’ll be needing your utmost attention.

xiao, albedo, thoma, kazuha, kaveh, baizhu.

he’s jealous and he’ll show it. hit on his partner? right in front of him? absolutely not. he might try to keep his calm at first, but as time passes and this scumbag is still around, he won’t hold back. not to worry, he won’t do anything extreme (unless he’s forced to do so), he just wants to make things clear to this guy. he’ll keep it simple at first, simply making subtle comments until he actually starts going straight to the point. after a while, he’ll take your arm and walk away with you, now being angrier than before. the way that guy was talking to him, but especially you, has him furious. be prepared to listen to his angry rant about that random dude. be also prepared to shut him up, you know how.

kaeya, childe, heizou, tighnari, cyno, wanderer, lyney.

this guy almost sees you as his property, his jealousy is unmatched. he won’t take anything lightly. if you’re trying to make advantages on his partner, then you’re asking for it. simple as that! he won’t let anyone think they might have a chance with you because you’re destined to be with him and only him. so obviously, he must make it clear to everybody to not even try. if someone is bold enough though, he’ll just stand beside you, piercing through this man’s soul with his icy gaze. thankfully, nothing ever escalated from that. not that he wouldn’t be capable of doing that, these poor souls simply knew better than to get against someone of that status and reputation.

ayato, dottore, pantalone, pierro.

⌗a/n : im not really proud of this, i might edit it once i have time. it’s 4am and i was supposed to be studying, but i ended up writing this instead. talk about procrastination 😪 let me know if i made any mistakes pls

want to read more? take a look at my masterlist!

©2024 akimiiyo. do not repost, translate, plagiarise, or modify in any way, shape or form.

[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!

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

@rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze @yujyujj @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea @moonsua1 @darksidescorner @geminis93 @1800-get-alife @hrrtkreuz @oharasfilipinawife @dropyoursocksandgrabyourcrocss @may4ri @t4naiis @f1-hoff @llumetrii

[oh-saints]

Would you write a fluffy imagine for Benji Pavard? Like having a little french session and he kisses reader after they get something right? <3

ahjjsskdkl 🤯🤯🤯 oh to be taught by ben.........

but hope you like it nonny! <3

lesson

French is notorious for being a hard language to master and knowing this, your boyfriend is more than happy to provide an extra motivation for you…

benjamin pavard x you

tw: google-translated French words so pls cmiiw

wc: 0.8k

note: this was fun to write but also the hardest bcs I’ve forgotten the French lessons I had during high school. damn, so old. but anyway, I happen to write this during my layover so this is not yet beta-read.

request still open until tonight & you can submit them here!

it was a rather slow day for ben.

having won another Bundesliga trophy, thomas tuchel granted his players a cut to their slacks for this entire day—knowing his players must’ve celebrated wildly at their favourite local pub till the wee hours in the morning—before continuing another rigorous session tomorrow.

so ben decided to surprise you at home with some of the pastry delicacies you’d come to love from his favourite bakery—which was rather hard, finding an authentic French bakery in munich—and your favourite tub of ice cream. your choice of hangover remedy was odd, he found at first, but now he couldn’t ask for anything else to cure his buzzing head.

ben was expecting you to be sprawled in your working station—which happened to be the coffee table in the living room—with sheets and papers and numbers all over the place, as usual, so he was the one getting surprised at the only sight of your laptop and your hair was not tied in a pucca bun. the latter would’ve meant you were dealing your work with stress and that would’ve been something he could take on well by now.

“gauche means left…” you spoke to yourself as you jotted down the meaning. “droit means right… so that means c'est à gauche du four?” (it’s to the left of the oven)

“c’est à côté de four sounds better, no?” (it’s next to the oven)

you were startled at ben’s voice, the owner placing down his shopping bag at the kitchen island. you panicked instantly—not because you thought it could be somebody else, but that would mean ben just found out about your little secret. the one that you’d been working on since you started dating him six months ago.

“ben!” you jumped to your feet, albeit standing awkwardly because you weren’t ready to reveal the reason why you were enrolling yourself to a French lesson. “I don’t know you’re coming home early.”

“coach dismissed us early,” ben chuckled at your weird stance, noticing your nerves, so instead of getting his usual welcoming embrace from you, he was the one who pulled you to his arms. “too many of his players left their heads at the club.”

fuck your initial thoughts, your mind was being taken over by your favourite scent—ben after showering with a bit of his perfume spray—and your favourite kind of warmth exuding from your boyfriend’s body. naturally, you hugged him back, your hands trying to reach one another at ben’s back.

“never thought you’re picking up French, ma chérie,” he placed a well-positioned kiss on the crown of your head. “tu t’en sors?” (how are you managing?)

“pas trop, non,” not really, you replied and ben smiled wider, despite you not being able to see them. for someone who was previously confused about left and right, you were doing better than average in accent and simple phrases like this. “can you help me out?”

“thought you’d never ask,” and when you flashed him those eyes that reminded him of a lost puppy, he was a goner. he didn’t think he could ever say no to that, so cute he could die. instead of dying, though, he kissed your lips. “what topic are we covering today?”

“I’m having troubles with directions...” you said sheepishly as you sat back down, him following suit. “you know I’m generally not good with them too.”

ben laughed because you were right. you and maps shouldn’t belong in the same room without assistance. but he pecked your cheeks anyway. “but I’m already proud of you figuring out how this whole feminine and masculine thing, just so you know, okay?”

a praise from the native certainly uplifted your mood again. you were on the verge of breaking down before ben stepped into the house because god damn, that was difficult. if you weren’t planning on giving him a surprise for their 1st anniversary, you would’ve given up.

but later, you realised that it was rather ben’s preferred method of teaching. he never scolded you if you got any of the pronunciations or the articles wrong, he just corrected you gently. whenever you nailed a difficult word, you’d always get praises from him. and whenever you figured out a sentence on your own, your boyfriend would always add a kiss at the end of his praise.

“bien joué, ma chérie!” well done, my love and followed by a peck, was the most common form of his praise.

but there was also times when he was truly blooming in joy and proud as you aced a more complicated sentence, both by structure and by grammar, on top of not getting confused between left and right. that was when he slipped in a longer sentence because he knew you love his kisses so much, anywhere everywhere.

“félicitations, mon amour,” he whispered after giving you a longer, deeper, more deserving kiss before diving in again for another peck. “tu l’as bien mérité.” (congratulations, my love. you deserve it.)

you really should’ve asked for his tutelage in the first place instead of subscribing to duolingo if this was what you’d get every French lesson.

[ohthatstragic]

You Right - p.m

a/n: guys i've been obsessed with this fecking song ever since it came out, i have no idea, but oH MY GODDD.... also i'm not really sure i like the ending but i had no idea how to wrap it up. if i think of a better way, i'll change it. < 3

also pls don’t repost or translate any of my work.. i don’t give you permission to do that.

pairings: maverick x reader

warnings: age gap if you want, angst?, thoughts of cheating, pining, swearing, alcohol

wc: 3,155

summary: you're seeing someone, but you can't help but want a certain fighter pilot - that being the one and only Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell

song: you right by doja cat ft. the weeknd

It was just another Friday night at The Hard Deck - drinks were flowing and conversations were bubbling. You'd been childhood friends with Phoenix, and through her you met the infamous Dagger Squad. Instantly, you became close friends with all of them, and maybe even more with a certain fighter pilot. However, you were seeing someone, so naturally you decided to try and rid yourself of the feelings you'd developed for Maverick - despite it being damn near impossible to do so.

Currently you stood next to Phoenix with a cold drink in your hand, eyes staring dead ahead at a captain you'd grown to adore. He was sat alone, phone in one hand, and his other hand gently clutched around a beer bottle. Maverick had a gentle smile on his face as he scrolled on the small piece of technology, and it made your heart flutter. Noticing the building feeling in your chest, you ripped your eyes away and focused on something else - that being your feet in front of you. They shuffled uncomfortably and you looked back up sheepishly to an empty table, a feeling of guilt slowly beginning to eat at you.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed and you flinched at the vibration in your back pocket, your hand quickly flying to grab it. It was a text from Jamie. 'Everything ok?'  read the message, making you feel sick. You groaned quietly and shoved it back into your pocket, gently clamping your teeth down on your bottom lip to nibble on it nervously.

"Everything okay?" Natasha frowned from beside you; a small, curious smile creeping onto her lips. Your mouth instantly fell open at her words, and her frown intensified.

"Did you read my text?" You asked, returning her frown. Natasha only chuckled incredulously, quite obviously confused at your accusation.

"What text? You just seem on edge." She squinted eagerly at you, starting to stare into what felt like your soul.

"I'm fine, it's just..." You sighed quietly, eyes glancing to Maverick who was now currently chatting with Hangman and Rooster. Natasha quickly followed your gaze and she attempted to hold back a smug smile, though her face betrayed her. "Don't." You groaned, looking back at your best friend.

"Aren't you seeing James or whatever his name is?" Natasha chuckled again, dryly, evidently showing her distaste in the guy you were currently dating. You cringed at her words and looked down at your shoes, swallowing harshly like you'd just taken a sip of poison.

"Err, yeah, but it's Jamie, Tasha." You cleared your throat. She only glanced at you with a cocked brow, and you took that as a 'whatever.' "He's not that bad, Phee, not compared to the other guys I've dated..." You said, trying to win her over. Though it was not a fair fight - Natasha had obviously made her mind up about this whole kerfuffle.

"Y/N/N, you choose to date the most fucked up men I've ever laid eyes on," She laughed as her hand flew to her stomach to clutch it. "You can do so much better, it's like you don't know your worth. We all agree on this, by the way." Natasha gave you a single nod, casting her eyes around the bar as if to point at the squad.

"Um, even Mav?" You asked shyly and squinted your eyes as you awkwardly scratched the back of your neck, trying to act non-chalant. She glanced at your squished face and held back a giggle, not wanting to embarrass you. The pilot knew how you felt about her instructor, despite not having told anyone anything.

"Yes, even Mav." Natasha hummed, taking a sip of the beer in her hand. Before you could answer her, a familiar, yet unwanted voice appeared from behind you.

"Y/N?" A male voice called, and you turned around to face them, your heart dropping. You pushed a fake smile onto your face as you heard Natasha try and conceal a snort with a poorly-timed cough. Oh, god.

"Jamie?" You frowned, suddenly questioning why he was here. "What are you doing here?" You asked, staring at him, clearly confused at his presence.

"You didn't reply to my text, and I was worried you were in trouble, so I came to find you." Jamie replied with a frown making your stomach churn. He probably had your best interests at heart, so you tried not to read into his actions too much. "Looks like you're alright." He added with a nod at Phoenix, who cautiously returned it, eyeing him slowly.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks for coming to see if I was okay." You awkwardly smiled, running a nervous hand through your hair. You watched as Jamie pressed forwards and slid an arm around your waist, making Natasha's eyes almost fall out of her head. She stepped back, glaring as his wide body shoved her out the way. He uncomfortably pulled you tight against him, making you squeak.

"It's what good boyfriends do." He smiled, and you blinked at him, shocked at his words.

"Oh, y-you're my boyfriend?" You breathed out in surprise, eyes widened. Jamie nodded at you, his eyes gleaming with something you weren't sure of. "That's nice." You chuckled quietly, eyes darting to Maverick who was currently watching you and Jamie like a hawk. You gasped and quickly looked back at your 'boyfriend', trying to hide the blush that was currently painting your cheeks pink.

"Well we've been seeing each other for a couple months now.." Jamie frowned gently, confusion evident in his voice. Phoenix's head whipped around at the speed of light at his words, and you stared at her like a doe caught in headlights.

"What?!" She mouthed at you, and you threw her an awkward grin, looking back at the man who had you in his grasp.

"Yeah, I guess we have..." You trailed off and nodded as you slid your hand down to his vice-like grip to try and remove it from your waist. "Jamie, you're hurting me." You whispered to him, and he quickly let go of you, offering you an apologetic look. Natasha still had her eyes on you two, observing your 'boyfriend' like he was a laboratory experiment. Little did you know, so did Maverick.

"Guess that means I should stay and make sure you don't do anything stupid then, huh?" Jamie joked, earning a disgusted look from Natasha behind him. You were speechless, and utterly lost at how to reply, so you just played along.

"Err, yeah, I guess," You swallowed.

****

"So, how long have you been seeing that guy?" A familiar and warm voice suddenly appeared beside you, making your heart race. You turned around, finding the man you'd been desiring all night. A pink blush powdered your cheeks and you let out a gentle laugh at his question.

"Um, a couple months." You brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear mindlessly. Pete smiled at you, his eyes trained on yours. You could feel your stomach doing somersaults inside and you cursed yourself for such a thing. "He's, err, nice," You laughed again, pursing your lips.

"He seems it," Pete nodded in agreement and knocked his knuckles on the wooden bar top quietly. You bit down on your bottom lip and chewed it momentarily, not knowing how to navigate such a topic. "I, uh, never caught his name?" Pete's brows knitted together as he kept his eyes on you.

"Jamie." You stared at Pete, and he stared back at you. The two of you knew there was an undeniable connection between you - it felt like two magnets being held so close together but never being allowed to connect. It was like torture. Your eyes swiftly glanced down at his lips, and you so desperately just wanted to kiss him, but you knew better than that. So you tore your gaze away from him, despite the painful feeling that set within you. "You seeing anyone new?" You asked quickly, wanting to fill the silence that had settled between you two.

"Nah, I'm not exactly looking for anything right now," Pete said, making your heart drop - even though it shouldn't. "I'm happy by myself." He added with a smile that almost made your knees collapse. 'There it is,' you thought. Even if the two of you wanted each other, Pete had made it clear that nothing could ever happen between you two.

"I'm glad you're happy, Pete," You smiled at him, despite the sorrowful feeling beginning to gather in your chest. "It's about time, and it makes me happy that you're happy." You said with a gentle nod, catching sight of Jamie heading over to where you and the captain were currently stood. You held back a groan and clenched your jaw, sliding your eyes back to Pete who frowned at you, obviously noticing your change in behaviour. He threw a quick glance behind him, and turned back around with an amused smile painted on his lips.

"Ah," Is all he said as he leant up from the bar, inhaling slowly. Your head was angled down at the ground but your eyes were stuck on Pete like a magnet. God, why couldn't he just-

"Ready to go, honey-bear?" Jamie smiled at you, purposefully ignoring Pete beside you. You bit back a grimace and smiled at him back, nodding. Your 'boyfriend' slipped in front of the captain, though you could still see part of his face as he leant back onto the bar casually. Pete threw you a cringed look and you subtly rolled your eyes, tearing them away from him.

"Mhm," You hummed. "I'm just gonna pop to the toilet first." You said, throwing a glance at Pete. The captain stared down at the bar-top with a straight face, but you knew he was listening to your conversation. If you were honest, in your mind, you were imagining him following you to the toilets and living out your wildest fantasies.

"Okay, I'll meet you outside." Jamie stepped forwards to press a surprise kiss to your lips - in which you had no time to react to - so you accepted your fate and kissed him back, although it didn't feel right to you. As Jamie pulled away, you smiled awkwardly up at him and brushed a hand through your hair. He stepped back and began to walk away, but not before throwing a harsh look at Pete.

"I guess I'll see you soon then, Pete?" You cleared your throat, a hand flying up to wipe the wetness that Jamie had left upon your lips. Pete couldn't help but chuckle at your action, earning a groan from you.

"Yeah," He smiled at you with a short nod, leaving you unsatisfied. You wished you could just throw yourself at him, but life wasn't good to you like that. "See you soon, Y/N." Pete said as you began to wander to the toilets, and you waved at him.

"Ugh," You groaned to yourself once you were out of ear-shot, heading towards the bar toilets. The sound of your hand slapping against the swing-door echoed out in the empty toilets as you walked in; a warm orange light engulfed the room. The tiled wall was a sage green, and the floor complimented it with white tiles. Your tired reflection stared back at you in the circle shaped, black-rimmed mirror. Your hands fell onto the white countertops as you gazed down at the white basin, a distorted version of your reflection appearing in the silver faucet. As you stared at your reflection, another reflection appeared behind you, but it appeared more masculine than feminine.

With a soft gasp you whipped your body around to face the mysterious figure, but you were met with the someone you'd been hoping for. "Pete?" You breathed out, a little surprised at him being in the ladies room. "You know this is the ladies room, right?" You giggled nervously, glancing between him and the door. Your tense body relaxed slightly as he stepped closer to you, your hands still resting against the countertop.

"Yeah," Pete chuckled at your words, making your stomach do loops. You bit down on your bottom lip in a feeble attempt to distract your wandering mind. "I just wanted to see you again." He said, eyes never leaving yours. The way he stared at you made you feel like the only girl in the world, and to your dismay - it also made you breathless.

"Oh?" Was all you could muster up as he continued to step closer to you, until your chests were mere centimetres from one another. You swallowed thickly as his hot breath caressed your cheek, feeling your heart begin to go into overdrive. You were not an unfaithful person, you weren't brought up that way, but the way Pete was making you feel right now was really making you consider things...

"If you want me to go, just say so." Pete said quietly to you, his baby blue eyes glued to yours. You couldn't look away from him, he was so fucking captivating - like some optical illusion. Instantly you shook your head, and even though you looked desperate, you didn't care.

"No." You said simply as your hands flew to his chest; fingers knotting themselves in the collar of his leather jacket. "I want you," You whined softly, feeling small tears beginning to prick your eyes. "But..." You trailed off, letting your eyes fall to where your fingers were currently gripping onto his jacket. Pete nodded slowly, understanding where this was heading.

"I know, sweetheart." He mumbled, his eyes dotting over your beautiful face. You looked back up at him, gaze falling to his perfect pink lips for a slight second. During that miniscule amount of time, you debated everything. Was it worth ruining something with Jamie? Was it worth potentially ruining your friendship with Pete for something that is possibly just lust?

You looked back up into his eyes, and you knew that was it.

Within seconds Pete pressed his warm lips to yours passionately, his hands flying up to bury themselves in your hair. You whimpered at his touch and your hands slipped up to caress his neck as he pulled you flush against him; your thighs squeezed against the countertop as he pushed against you. Pete slid his hands down from your hair to your thighs and lifted you up so you were sat on the countertop, and instinctively you spread your legs so he could stand between them.

"Oh, Pete-" You moaned softly into his lips, feeling him smile against yours. "You're so much better than him," You said breathlessly in between his desperate kisses. Pete's hands squeezed your thighs, his fingers gently kneading the soft flesh that surrounded him. Suddenly, it dawned on you that you were in a public bathroom -  let alone the fact that your 'boyfriend' was waiting outside for you. You reluctantly pulled away from Pete, though you kept your hands wrapped around his neck, the pads of your thumbs softly stroking the nape of his neck.

"Shit, I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-" Pete stuttered and shook his head vigorously. God, what the hell was he thinking? You had a boyfriend. He stepped back from you and removed his hands, placing them at his sides, before wildly running one through his hair. A look of hurt painted your face as you watched him walk away, your heart dropping in your chest.

"Pete, no, it's fine," You sighed, slipping off of the countertop to reach him. You placed a soft hand on his cheek and it seemed to ground him, his eyes flying to meet yours. "It's not your fault, I shouldn't have said those things." You whispered as the two of you shared a warm gaze.

"No, don't say that." His voice was quiet as his eyes fell from yours to the floor, and you couldn't help but feel awful. You watched as his jaw clenched; the muscle flexing underneath the orange glow of the bathroom lights. "You're with someone, and I shouldn't have done that." Pete sighed, clearly disappointed in himself. Jesus, how could he be so reckless?

"You're right, I'm seeing Jamie... but I want you." You said lowly, thumb brushing against his cheek. Your let your head fall forwards, and Pete started to feel the guilt begin to eat at him as his eyes studied your face. "I can't help it. There's something between us that I can't deny, I don't feel anything when I'm with Jamie, but when I'm with you - it's... different. I-I don't know what it is, but I want it." You rambled, stumbling over your words like a new-born foal. You looked up to find Pete's eyes burning into yours, waiting desperately for you to say the one thing on his mind.

"I want you too." He admitted quietly, almost sheepishly - he knew how wrong this was... you had a man. The energy between you two was just too intense to handle, and it wasn't something the both of you were willing to ignore. "Are you sure about him, sweetheart?" Pete asked, his smooth voice piercing the veil of silence that had suddenly plagued the room. You blinked slowly as you gazed down at the floor before averting it to Pete's warm one.

"No." You answered curtly, staring straight at the captain. He was right in a way, you never felt happy around Jamie - in all honesty, he was a distraction. Not to mention a way to stop your parents from hounding you about when you were going to 'give them grandchildren.' Every time the man said anything you cringed, grimaced or even gagged. What the hell were you thinking? The solution to this problem was standing right in front of you.

Almost too quickly, you fished your phone out of your pocket and dialled Jamie's number. Pete's eyes were watching you swiftly, quite obviously confused at what the hell you were doing. You had to swallow a gag as Jamie's voicemail echoed through your phone. "Hi, Jamie, err, I think we should see other people. It's nothing personal, so please, don't take it that way. I just don't think I'm ready for a relationship just yet." You said into the phone, eyes closing momentarily to think of some bullshit to spew so you could end whatever you had with him without heavy repercussions. At that moment in time, you thanked your lucky stars that you didn't meet him through mutual friends, but during a night-out in a different state.

As you pushed your phone back into your jean pocket with a single finger, you looked back up at Pete who couldn't hide smile that was growing on his face. After listening to you, he was certain what was about to happen. 

"So?" He cocked a brow, awaiting your answer. A toothy grin broke out on your face.

"I'm yours." A soft chuckle left your lips as Pete walked forwards to embrace you in his arms, the musk of his leather filling your nostrils with a homey and warm feeling. This was not how you expected the night to turn out... at all - but you weren't complaining.

my masterlist

how to request something

tag list:

@hlstead

@alltoocecilia

@shakespear-picaso-lovechild

@risingtripletaurus

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@elenavampire21

[scriptlgbt]

How would you feel about us opening the ask box?

So... we have a giant backlog of years-old messages. Some of the questions may or may not be relevant anymore to their askers. Some are from deactivated blogs. Some are things we've struggled to answer. Etc.

The backlog of asks has prevented us from opening the ask box.

So we want to ask you as readers and writers what your opinion is. Longer explanation below.

Life happens, and this is all volunteer-run. But I am sorry for all of you who wrote to us over the past few years only for us to not have the capacity to answer at the time.

Something we have done in the past was briefly open asks to help us get the momentum going, while we chipped away at older asks that required more research or reaching out to guest mods with identities we don't have. Or slowly getting to answering questions about our own trauma in order to help someone else write it in a way that respected its gravity.

With opening the ask box then, it also meant that the mountain continued to grow large. In an ideal world, we'd be able to answer every ask quickly.

I realize folks will see this and reply with, "why not just get new mods?"

Taking on new mods requires figuring out what an application looks like, reaching out to demographics besides our own (and knowing where to do this, and the right way, considering this is an unpaid gig), interviewing, and training new mods in how the ScriptFamily group of blogs operates. And generally, even when people go through all that process, very few people are able to maintain activity on the blog. Which is understandable! We are all in that boat! (ALSO. This isn't a sideblog, so it requires logging in and out, or using another browser, pls advise if you know a workaround. ) So the balance of labour put in to bring on new mods, vs. labour saved by it, is a HUGE roll of the dice.

I say all this not to discourage people from asking tough questions. Only to hopefully give some insight into why some asks take so long, and that it's because I've been researching Molly Houses from their heyday for like 5 years and figuring out what a Bavarian asexual man would call himself in 1920 using repatriated texts from the Magnus Hirschfeld Institute, typed manually and auto-translated. And also... someone asked about the omegaverse, AKA the A/B/O trope and transness this one time and... we all have a lot to say, haha. It's a lot to unpack! But we're passionate. And I hope as we work through asks in the future, our archive will help us better be able to help you.

But IDK, what are your thoughts on all this? Should we just go through the backlog very slowly (regardless of the age of the asks)? Or do you want the ask box opened for your current questions?

[py6oto]

more hlvrai x yume nikki au stuff!!!

this post is gonna have a lot more text than my usual posts. so sorry if you don't want that.

so people seemed to really like my idea (which is really unexpected !! i didn't expect it to gain any attention at all!!! but its also super awesome and im so glad they do!!) so ive been brainstorming a little bit.

heads up i know yume nikki is a very ambiguous game but im pretty new to it so if i happen to get any established information wrong please let me know !? ty !!

anyways. before we do the effects. please take some sprites.

(body horror ((multiple eyes, messed up limbs, gunshot sounds)) under the cut!!! pls stay safe !!! ) (also a huge lore dump. sorry!)

id think this au takes place in a universe where the resonance cascade was real (aka not a game or simulation) and it'd be like, maybe a few months after it. gordon is traumatized as hell and it haunts his subconscious to the point he feels the need to isolate himself completely. he relives his trauma through eerily consistent dream worlds and then dies on a random tuesday. credits roll. audience cheers. wonderful story.

the vision for the sprites is that tommy functions as a "friendly" npc (like monoko and the other girl i forget the name of please forgive me) and benrey functions as poniko, uboa being "xenrey" or essentially messed up alien benrey (the weird...white...blood....world...room...uboa takes you to when you interact with it is simply replaced by xen. that's it. benreys house is a direct gateway to that time gordon fought god and won and isn't that amazing.)

i might remake the "uboa" sprite in the future because i don't really like it right now. im very new to pixel art and imitating YMNK's style is a little hard.

i like to think this imaginary game would have the teensiest tiny bit of dialogue, only when interacting with benrey. when you interact with his "regular" form, he says "you're not supposed to be here." and repeats it every time you interact, not saying anything else.

i know one of the biggest things that makes yume nikki stand out is its lack of dialogue, but listen, i think it would work well!!! seeing as this is the only time a character actually talks to gordon through understandable dialogue (unless i come up with something else!! haha) i think it would be confusing and throw players off because it breaks the pattern of being either ignored or silently acknowledged. someone talking directly to you after hours of isolation is confusing and unpredictable. which is what benrey is. confusing as hell!

im not sure what function tommy would offer, if any, i kinda want him to maybe give gordon an effect (soda effect could work?)

i dont think he'd bring any jumpscares or intentionally unsettling things to the table. seeing as he was the only one by gordon's side when the rest of the team proved itself to be a threat, i think it's logical he'd remember tommy in a warmer light than the others- which is reflected in how instead of unsettling or ignoring gordom, dream tommy simply smiles and gives him the ability to drink a soda any time. soda effect.

does this soda effect make you see faster like tommy said?

as much as i'd love to, no. probably not. because i have no idea what the hell seeing faster means.

maybe you can get a caffeine overdose. if you spam 1 enough times you will get very fast for as long as the soda effect is on. like the bycicle effect, but better, because you can taste it!

but no, it won't help you see faster. i don't know how to translate that sentence into understandable english.

now, coomer and bubby!!!! i apologize very deeply for i have not made sprites for them yet. i promise i will!!! it's just very late today and if i draw anything else i will actually just pass out.

im not very sure what i want for them yet. i think theyd be similar to tommy, but they'd have different functions. maybe they all give gordon different effects. or maybe they scare him! i dunno, i feel like there'd be a certain level of distrust from gordon to the old guys, like, of course he doesn't hate them but itd be hard to remember them super kindly and harmlessly when one of them ruthlessly tried to murder you with 300 clones of himself and the other tricked you into an ambush that cost you your arm, as much as you love them.

also!!! i completely forgot gordon lost an arm when i made his sprite. oops. it's okay its just a very realistic prosthetic

anyways. this post is getting too long so i think I'll save the boomer talk for when i actually post their sprites. its time for EFFECTS !!

i haven't been able to come up with many words yet. but i have some effects and a slight idea of how gordon would earn them.

concept art is beautiful

from left to right (because my handwriting is absolutely hideous!)

SODA - earned by interacting with TOMMY. wherever tommy is??? i dunno! pressing 1 will make gordon drink the soda and earn a temporary speed boost.

CAR??? - part of me really wants to rename this one but it's so funny to me i want to keep it. it's just a car. he literally just whips out a car and starts driving. what a legend. this effect lets him get across water areas faster (even faster than the soda!)

LONG HAIR - literally just gives him long hair. there is no practical use for this. nothing will happen. it just gives him long hair. isnt he beautiful.

ARM - earned by interacting with a dismembered arm found... somewhere.... probably some dark room. you know that effect where madotsuki literally just becomes a head? yeah. this is that but it's an arm because of course it is. this is an opportunity and i will not give it up. there is no use for this either. it just makes him a slow sad lonely arm.

MINIGUN - found by interacting with a certain object in POTION !! WORLD !! YEAHHH!! DARNOLD REFERENCE !!! pressing 1 will let you shoot the hell out of your enemies and make them pay for their sins

SWEET VOICE - found by interacting with any of the orbs in COLOR WORLD. 1 will allow gordon to song a beautiful, colorful song that will soothe any npcs he might have angered and make them stop trying to murder him.

POWERLEGS - MAYBE given by coomer npc? idk! this is all brainstorming and a work in progress! 1 makes gordon jump real high, allowing him to reach otherwise unaccessible areas

GHOST - ghost. he's a ghost. he's transparent. he flies. 1 makes him do a little ooooo noise and all the npcs run away from him because the place is haunted. ghost.

GLASSES - literally just pick up some glasses from the floor. putting them on will uncover a few hidden details across the map that may be necessary for progress ... like a very small and specific set of stairs

SMALL - makes gordon very small. i thought the original effect was super fun so i just kept it unchanged. small gordon. he can clone himself and make a gordon army. small. im thinking he finds it thru a coomer clone that is abnormally small. he interacts. small effect. small!

SHORT HAIR - literally just short hair. gordon can't seem to pick a haircut!

UMBRELLA - ...umbrella. makes it rain. shelters gordon from the rain at the same time. can be used for the same purpose it has in yume nikki which is putting out fires or stopping pre-existing rain.

there's supposed to be more effects and i still need to plan all the worlds and hidden rooms but ........ maybe when the sun is out and i have slept and i can think better !!! let me know whatever suggestions or ideas you guys have. i love hearing them a lot ^_^ thank you if you read all of this!! i promise hlvrai animations are not over this is just an au that has temporarily taken over its okay my content is not changing to yume nikki hlvrai only

gordon no

2023.07.27

[theharddeck]

if anyone has resources on bisexuality pls let me know

or opinions they feel like sharing, or really anything but yeah word vomit below the cut, bc i don't want to overwhelm/ overshare with folks who might not care (which is valid, pls have a good sunday)

so yeah i'm really looking for opinions, shared experiences, or resources that helped anyone else come to terms with their (bi)sexuality. i was raised in a very religious environment but have done a lot to consider myself an ally these days, and lately i've been wondering if maybe it's more than that?

basically i've only ever been with one person (a cis man) and it was fine (typical shenanigans, ultimately me feeling less known/loved by him than i did by my (women) friends, but also the physicality of that relationship kept me in it way longer than it should've, so i'm at least attracted to men physically, if not in other ways), but the more time i spend consuming queer media, the more i'm like...hmm. i've always had deep deep relationships with women (to the point of being the best friend right before they find a man and get married, and then i have the jealousy/fallout of feeling i could care for her better), and celebrity crushes same as anyone, and i truly in my heart feel like i will never be known/loved by a man the way i have been by women (or someone who's nonbinary, but i live in a small community, and don't know anyone in person who isn't cis) (also is that on patriarchy and learned incompetence, rathen than sexuality), BUT THEN is romantic/emotional attraction even the same as sexuality?

up until recently, i'd never considered a future with a woman, but if i think about it, it sounds kinda scary in that it's unfamiliar, but also wayyyy too good to be true? like i just like women better than men, but idk if that translates into physical intimacy...which then lends itself to demisexuality, which is a whole other conversation.

now obviously the easiest thing would be to switch my bumble to men and women, but i'm 28 like i don't want to be that harmful person who's like lol lemme just try it to see like i'm not 21, i don't want to hurt anybody who's secure in their identity and is looking for something serious where i'm like idek what it's like to kiss a girl?? or maybe i'm being dramatic and just another straight woman having a crisis so yeah thoughts/opinions would help, if anyone has any to spare

[fictionkinfessions]

[Fandom this post is about: «“Persona 5”» / «“Persona 5 ROYAL”»]

[CW: Swearing, Shido mention, Kamoshida mention, caps on some parts.. probably some more stuff but I have no idea as to what they are. Neglect and being an outcast, I guess??]

[WARNING: This post (probably) contains some light spoilers for «“Persona 5 ROYAL”», please read at your own risk!]

❂——✧——✧——✧——✧——✧——✧——✧——❂

Canon style : I guess the being somewhat blind and having the same thing on for like half of the day at minimum carried on to this life 😞 unfortunately for me, I still have to wear glasses, but at least I still have my ス(←su)タ(←ta)イ(←i)ル(←ru)！！(Translation: Style) (Apparently knowing japanese partially carried on to here, too..)

❂——✧——✧——✧——✧——✧——✧——✧——❂

Opinion differences: Honestly, back then I didn't really mind how my parents literally just sent me off somewhere where I didn't know anyone and with a guy I didn't even know either, how much people talked about me at school or how teachers seemed to irrationally hate me, I kinda thought I may have deserved it in a way, I guess? And I don't really blame anyone for being wary of me, cause all they knew was that I had assault charges, but come on.. "they say he carries a knife, gets into fights, and KRILLED someone!!1!11!" WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?? I swear, people made CRAZY rumors about anyone back then..

On a more serious note of what I think about it now, I'm really just realizing how utterly awful all of that was, and it's maddening, in a way. Was it really so bad to help someone who was gonna get harmed by some twisted asshole? Maybe said guy was asking for me to “““hit him””” by being a whiny bitch?? Sorry for my language, but like.. I DIDN'T EVEN PUSH HIM SO HARD?? Man must have been a theater kid or a football player in the past because he was SO SO dramatic.. and Kamoshida.. gosh, that guy was SOOOOO entitled, and he hated me just because I existed. God forbid someone comits the ATROCIOUS crime of being in the presence of the “““““allmighty Kamoshida””””” 😒 so glad Ann and Ryuji got to show that thing the meaning of karma, though!! Deserved, truly.

Although, all of this makes me wonder what would have happened had I not met Ryuji on my first day at Shujin.. best not to think about it too hard, but I really want him to know I appreciate him a LOT. Most of the stuff that happened in my canon and source canon were because of him (in a good way), so he better not just be generic comic relief #11037 to everyone else :( Most of the time I never understood what Morgana's beef with him was, though.. psst psst, if either of them is seeing this.. pls tell me, I need to know why you two were constantly getting on eachother's nerves in the span of 2 seconds 😕

— #❂🥞🐈‍⬛✮ (✧Ren Amamiya✧ | ❂Akira Kurusu❂ | ♧“Joker”♤ fictive + fictionkin)

(I love organizing and decorating stuff like texts with symbols or stuff like that even if it's not necessary so so much.. it's a need for me atp.. kinda wish I was this way with school too 😞💔)

x

[lune-de-miel-au-paradis]

Mind games

Summary: Nina woke up in the hospital after the attack, she has a secret visitor. Also we learn some about Nina’s past relationship with Felix and we learn about her motives for the future.

Pairing: Darth Maul x OC Nina Cerasus

Warnings: Mention of attack, violence, wounds, medication, hospital, mind control, mental health, anxiety, mutual pining, idiots in love, angst, multiple pow, (Let me know if I left out something.) Minors DNI!

Sentences in italics is an inner monologue, a thought.

AN: This fic means a lot to me and I worked on it a lot. If you have any advice or comments, please share them with me kindly. I'm posting for the first time in years and I don't want nasty comments to discourage me from posting again. Remember it’s a slow burn! If you don't like it, please go to another blog. I did my best to translate it, so pls forgive me, English is not my first language.

Also huge thank you for lovely @hellhound5925 to beta reading it and help me arrange my messy mind.💖💖

Please enjoy reading!

previous chapter

divider by the lovely Saradika

Nina woke up in the hospital, her head hurt as if someone was trying to pull her brain out through her nose. Her mouth was dry, and tasted like ash. Everything moved quickly around her, as if every object and person had loosened the boundaries that made them solid and their form became fluid for her. Everything seemed like an endless blur of lights, shadows and colors. The stimulus was overwhelming. 

She tried to sit up, but her body wouldn't obey, machines were buzzing around her, and Nina was extremely thirsty. 

She felt a gentle touch, and some kind of thick yet soft material, maybe leather from a glove.

Someone helped her she understood, when they put the rim of the cool glass to her lips, she opened up and began to drink the water greedily, but that someone stopped her.

 "Slowly!" she heard the monition. 

It was a male's voice, she decided she liked it. It was like a whisper of darkness surrounding her. Nevertheless she felt it comforting.

She restrained herself with self-control and slowly sipped the water, she could almost feel the liquid being absorbed by her cells and she felt much better.

When Nina opened her eyes, the only thing that wasn’t blurry or spinning was something glooming. Shining golden and pulsating like fire, like twin suns, and she couldn't look away.

This pair of eyes became her focal point, which anchored her gaze and helped the spots and blurry recondense into shapes and make sense. It grounded her. 

In addition, Nina felt something else, the pain in her body began to dull a little, she felt a soft and gentle vibration around her that calmed her down, and slowly her consciousness began to sharpen. It was so feather light that she thought she only imagined that. Memories came back quickly like scenes from a holomovie. She fell down on the university’s stairs! The bounty hunter who attacked her.

She slowly remembered everything, it made her headache worse but at least she was safe now. She tried to force a smile, but wasn’t sure it broke on her face. She felt pain, a shame that she let this happen to her, then she started to drink in her surroundings: a hospital room, a bed and a little nightstand, and a lamp.

Time slowed into one endless beat, it was slightly painful which he doesn't understand why. He wasn’t the one injured lying on a bed looking pitifully weak. He felt anger boiling his thoughts through his veins. 

How did she get injured? Was someone involved? Seeing the marks on her throat and the wound on her head made him restless. He wanted to break every piece of furniture in the room, and shake the hospital walls. Yet, as always he kept calm and collected.  

Before he let his feelings wash over himself, he exhaled a breath he didn’t notice holding in. 

“Focus!”

She started to wake up, from her dreamless sleep. This wasn’t the time to draw attention to his selfish raging anger and disobey his Master by causing a scene. 

He focused on Nina’s awakening form instead. He casted out his presence with the Force like shadow beams, felt the young woman's mental protective wall, which this time was neither strong nor resistant. He slipped easily in her mind.

 Stars! It was a mess there. Nina must have had a concussion, because in the confusing cavalcade of information and memories, Maul couldn't make any sense. Nevertheless he gently nudged her memory threads to sort themselves out and show him the events and information he was curious about. It didn't work, her body was too weak. He would check her ABC results (airway, breathing and circulation) but this kind of information was with the medical droid which wasn’t in the room. 

He only sensed her pain and her thirst. Risking that the doctor might come in, Maul stepped forward from the dark corner and helped Nina to drink some water. He almost laughed when he saw how eagerly Nina gulped down the offered liquid. It was obvious that she was not used to such cases, like being in danger. Many moons ago, Maul learned as a little boy that he can't drink a lot so quickly, his body can't handle the pace and it ends up leading to dehydration caused by vomiting, which only worsens the situation of his already damaged body.

"Slowly." he said softly and felt warmth when he noticed that Nina actually listens to the advice and calms down when he hears her calm breathing.

He looked at her suspiciously. One injury didn't change the fact that he still thinks she might be some sort of test for him, but in some twisted way he felt slightly relieved when he looked at her. 

“She is fine.” 

He continued to try telepathy, but he only felt pain in the girl, mentally as well, but this was now surpassed by the pain of the physical body. Methodically and carefully, he manipulated the Force so that it swept over Nina like a warm gentle wave, soothing her. He also treated the pain-sensing center in her mind, so her pain began to dull even if she was not cured immediately. He was so close to her, in her mind, that he sensed and felt her sigh of relief almost as his own, as if the air was flowing through his own nose and lungs, he could feel her pain and cells vibrate under the influence of the Force he manipulated.

As a telepath, Maul had felt others this close before and had to practice a fair amount, so that neither the subject nor his own consciousness would be harmed. It was a difficult process requiring caution and precision, which he learned under his Master's training. But this was the first time that someone's proximity did not make him feel disgusted or disdainful. Nina was different, not suffocating like the others, connecting with her consciousness was a different feeling, airy, fresh and spacious in a metaphorical sense. It was like looking up to the sky on a starry night.

When they eyes met, he felt the memories clearing in her confused mind slowly. She used him as a focus point, to drag her mind back in order by adjusting and ranking the memories to the present time. Some of them he could catch and saw but only bits and pieces. It was not enough yet it has to be enough for now. 

He wanted to say something but he noticed that someone was coming, so he disappeared through the window while hearing the doctor's greeting voice. He had taken fragments from her memory he needed to anyalize.

“Do you remember what happened Miss?”

“I fell down the stairs in front of my Univercity school,”she said quietly, looking out the open window. The medical droid closed it and the doctor asked another question. 

“How many stairs were there?”

“I’m not sure, maybe between one and two dozen?”

“You hit your head Miss. We had to stitch up the wound, it will heal but it will scar under the hairline. Other than that we only censored a few bigger bruises on your upper body. These will be uncomfortable for a couple of weeks but will fade over time.”

“Okay.” she nodded. 

“Are you hurting anywhere in particular right now Miss?”

The question hung in the room while Nina thought through the answer. 

“My head, my shoulder and lower back.” she spoke after.

“Any kind of pain in the neck?” the doctor felt along her C spine notice that she did flinch or not. He felt relieved when she didn’t flinch nor mention pain.

“Are you taking medications Miss? I see on your file that you have a heart disease?”

“It is correct. I have to take my daily meds like blood thinner,beta blocker and some for blood pressure. It’s in my file.”

“I see. I will consult with your doctor when he arrives about your painkillers. It will be calculated and be available for you by the end of my daily shift.

“I have to ask a few questions. Is there any chance you’re pregnant?” 

“No.”

“Any kind of alcohol or drug use besides the heart medications?”

“No.”

“Your CT scan results will arrive soon. But I’m gonna have to ask about your other injury. The one that is on your neck.”

Nina suddenly raised her right hand to her neck and felt the damaged skin as the medical assistant droid held a mirror towards her in response to her questioning look.

She had to explain this somehow, but it was going to be difficult, because the bruises were perfectly visible fingerprints around her throat, a purplish-red that was ridiculously bright against her pale skin tone, mocking her.

“You are weak!” they made her feel this line in her mind. “No I’m not!” she wanted to shout back. 

She knew what the hired bounty hunter wanted. The drive that had all the information from Felix's holopad. She stole it. She had this plan for weeks by now. Everything planned out details and possible outcomes as well. 

What should she say to the doctor? That weeks ago she paid a guy to hack into Nigel's home droids programming them to spy? That her savings went to sponsoring this mission? She waited patiently until her father appeared. and she intentionally arranged the meeting with her father while holding the holopad? Well, rather not.

In the end, she provided the simplest explanation and used the “I got injured so I can’t remember cards.”

"The bounty hunter attacked me. He wanted to rob me.... My bag.. he wanted my bag."

"This makes sense because more robberies were reported in several places since they lifted the prices." the doctor hummed. "Do you want to file a report?"

“It all happened so fast. He attacked me and when I twisted his arm we both rolled down the stairs. I didn't even see his face clearly. But he wasn't human and he wasn't gungan."

"Luckily, you escaped, Miss. However, I recommend rest and have peace for a few days until the headache goes away due to the concussion. I called your school so you have a few days covered to rest. If you feel nauseous or the pain gets worse, please come to the hospital immediately."

"Have you told my grandmother yet? I don't want to upset her." Nina asked as she tried to stand up, it was not so graceful.

"So you don't remember everything.. Miss, you came into the hospital alone, in a state of shock, a taxi driver escorted you in. Your grandmother was the nurse on duty before you fainted again. She wanted to accompany you to all the tests and rushed all the results. She didn’t want to leave your side, but I told her you need a calm atmosphere. She sent me a look that gave me chills. Woah if looks could kill I’d be dead already.”

"Well, that sounds like her." Nina smiled.

The hospital visit exhausted her; it was a blur of examinations and tests. Apparently she had a mild concussion, some nasty bruises and a cut on her head but she still thought she was lucky. This all explained the slight throbbing in her head, besides that she felt tired, and didn’t want to go to her dorm room, and answer Polina’s questions. 

She felt better, but not strong enough for Polina's interrogation. Nevertheless she called for her to escort her home. 

Nina signed everything the doctor showed her on his holopad, and felt relieved when she left the building. She filled her lungs with fresh afternoon air, feeling the oxygen fill the lobes of her lungs. It was a relief shaking off the hospital’s aura and that usual smell. 

Polina had a worrying look on her face that she managed to hide but failed. Nina only signaled her with a slight nod, that she feels okay. Polina had already reserved a taxi and opened the door to Nina.

When they were all settled Nina rested her head on Polina's shoulder while her friend played with the bracelets on her wrist. Various mineral pearls, polished to a spherical shape, clattered to each other. Pale pink quartz, honey-colored citrine and dark purple amethyst were meant to contribute to today's success.

Polina believed in these in "crystal magic" and they affect on the body. So she bought them for Nina long before the exam period started.

“To help your mind focus, protect you from jealous eyes, and shower you in success.” she said when she gave her the gift in a sparkly bag. 

Nina believed in manifestation as long as it was supported by hard work.

But it crossed her mind that maybe she would be lucky today with her little mission, so to ensure this, she slipped them on her wrist in the morning. She was amazed that only a few pearls cracked and broke after the attack. What a shame, she frowned, she will need to replace the broken beads. The journey passed silently and quickly. All Nina wanted was a hot shower, tea and some quiet time with the drive, which was hidden in the star pendant on one of her bracelets.

Polina made sure that she showered safely, and always asked if she needed anything. Nina was grateful but felt so overwhelmed by the day. 

“Could you please bring us some dinner from that place we like? I need something spicy and warm, and also some sour vegetables.” she asked. 

“I don’t want to leave you alone.” Polina said while she put hot steaming tea in front of her friend.

“I’ll be fine. I have my device, so I can comm you anytime if I feel bad. I plan to take a nap, and I don’t want you to look while I sleep.”

Polina, like all good friends, sensed that Nina wanted solitude. Reluctantly, she finally agreed to bring some delicacies for the three of them for dinner. Grandma will also be happy that she doesn't have to worry about cooking after a long work shift.

Nina slipped on comfortable clothes and sighed. She couldn’t stop replaying the hospital events in her mind. Both from her account with her father and the attack. And also after that… Did Maul was there? He visited her? Or was it just a vivid dream? If he was there, then why?

However, before she could get an answer to her questions, she realized she had more important matters. 

She took out the small flash drive gadget that was supposed to contain any incriminating evidence of her father Felix's activities. 

He must have known that lately Felix has made serious progress both in the ranking at work and in the public life of the wealthy elite. 

Felix methodically and carefully stepped up the ranks, but due to the shortness of time, he still seemed suspicious, at least to Nina and a few other journalists.

Nina's plan was to sneak in and get some incriminating information from Felix. Then she delivers this anonymously to one of the journalists (who would write the most promising exposé article) and boom! Felix's reputation would be ruined, and as a result, he would lose his credibility, both in his beloved public life and at work.

Nina knew that she would not kill this "beast" with her little jab. But for now, it would have been enough satisfaction for her until she went on to a higher career as a successful lawyer. Then she would have more resources and opportunities to attack and finally destroy her father permanently.

Nina flexed her tense shoulder muscles and took one of the holo-images in her hand. There were three people on it. Her mom, she and Felix. When they were still a family. They are united and healthy.

"Look what your little comet has become, father. To your sworn enemy. He won't even see me coming after him." she smiled mockingly.

Suddenly, a red light indicated the denial of access to the information. Nina sweared out loud. But she decided she wouldn’t let this opportunity slide from her fingers when she had gone so far on her plan. She dialed with her comlink instead. 

"I need your hacking knowledge again." she said without greeting.

"It will cost twice as much, " was the reply.

"I don't have that much credit."

"I heard you're smart one. I have a few assignments to write by the end of next week so I won't fail this semester. Will it work if someone would help write them to me?"

"Deal."

Nina inherited many external features from her father. Their chins and dark richly textured hair and olive skin were of the same tone. Felix's eyes, however, played a slightly darker shade of green and glittered artificially. Nina also inherited his love for music, his curiosity about the stars and celestial bodies of the universe, and something else.

Nina was talented in building relationships that fit her purpose and using them at the right times. Although Nina hated these analogies, she still benefited from them, if only for the irony of the situation. How sweet the revenge will be, crushing Felix to the ground by turning his own tools against him. Nina felt no regret. Felix let them down, forgetting his former life. In exchange for money and fame. Because of this, Nina's mother's health only got worse and eventually completely consumed her. This was a forgivable offense in Nina's eyes. No mercy.

As she was wondering, she didn't notice that she had walked out of her home all the way to the end of the garden, where the stone bridge connecting the forest already stood. Her gaze flicked up to the landscape. She had a perfect view of the sky and the water below, which was no longer human territory, gungan land was there. The brilliant night glittered upon her mesmerizingly with one full moon, one third quarter and one waning gibbous. The celestial bodies' rays reflected so lovely, the water almost merged with the sky creating an endless sea of stars. Outside the darkness was absolute. 

Then she felt something. At first she thought it was a side effect of her head injury, but it was something else. As if dark claws were trying to enter her consciousness.

The touch was soft and barely perceptible, but it was definitely probing. The feeling was familiar, she felt the same in the hospital when she woke up. Light excitement flickered in her chest. It has to be him.

But why is he trying to push through the boundaries of her mind? This annoyed her. No one has the right to rummage through her mind. Especially today, when she was already injured and her attackers took power over her physical body, no one has the right to enter her soul. She still didn't had time to process today's trauma nor her achievements on her revenge plan. She started to feel overwhelmed, it all started to feel too much. Almost suffocating. She didn't had patience nor self control over her emotions that were started to bubbled inside her like hot lava, like a volcano waiting to erupt.

“Get out of my head if you can’t face me in person!” she told the darkness behind her.

next chapter

Taglist: @stardustbee @hellhound5925 @cloneloverrrrr @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @firstofficerwiggles

Let me know if you want to be added 💖

[daz4i]

ok ok I'm doing the silly and. talking abt my writing and showing parts of it and you gotta promise not to judge me and even if you find it cringe keep it to yourself pls be nice to me i am very sensitive!!!!!! anyway.

(tw for general depressing shit, mentions of death and implied csa near the end) (also this got so long I'm so sorry)

so the latest song(?) i wrote is called קלף טאקי בשולחן פוקר which is a reference to a local meme lol. i think i mentioned it before but if you missed it, it roughly translates to "uno card at a poker table". i think you can already guess what the topic of the song is. i actually wrote it after months of not writing anything and it felt like some of the grime on my brain was scrubbed off god bless

i have a file of a bunch of lines i come up with and don't know where to put yet and some of them are actually lifted from vent posts i make here and. this song was the first time i used smth from that file!! yippee!!!!

anyway i am not posting the whole thing bc my rhyming is. not good but I'll post some of my favorite parts in it i think. starting with

the lines the song opens with! originally it was called "unfit" (this word will come later too) but i wanted to get silly with it, hence the meme reference

speaking of references, that second line is one, to "avalanche" by bring me the horizon. great depression song go listen to it if you haven't yet. i kept thinking abt that line while writing and eventually i went "sure why not, may as well pay a tiny homage to one of my fav bands ever"

these are the opening lines of the second verse^

ik the length of the first one is a bit much compared to others and esp the first verse (see above), but this is one of the lines i grabbed from the aforementioned collection file and i was too attached to it to change it. i feel like once there's music and shit it might solve this

anyway i feel like here it's clearer what the topic actually is (the chorus also helps, but we'll get to that later) - having to be fake and pretending to be someone else in order for people to like you. the song wasn't originally supposed to be abt that but ngl most of what i write eventually comes to this lol (i think i have at least 3 other pieces about this oof <- joker kinnie)

this one!!!!! is a reference!!!!! to a play i liked as a teen and used a monologue from multiple times in acting school (everyone in the class loved the way i did it and asked me to keep using it in stuff and who am i to say no), dentity crisis by christopher durang!! it's about, well, identity crises lol, and eventually the main character loses herself trying to make sense of the people around her and the chaos of her life so naturally it felt like a fitting reference to make, esp with the whole theater theme

this is the. i wanna say bridge but idk all the right terminology oof. like the part before the final chorus+outro.

i think you might've picked up by now that this is a bit of a silly, somewhat sarcastic song on some level, hence the improv line lmao

when i hear this part in my head it's very dramatic, lots of belting like a broadway showstopper, mixed with some. almost spoken, yet still sing-song-y lines

and here the whole theater motif really picks up the pace too. honestly this one appears in a lot of my writing for obvious reasons, but it's especially fitting when the song is literally about pretending to be someone else in order to be loved

the game thing peeks its head in the first chorus which we will get into in a sec, but either way i think it goes hand in hand. games are often abt getting into the shoes of another character yknow? and there's a whole play on the word, well, play lol. and how it's both for games and for acting (in my first language we straight up don't have another word like "act". it's just the same as play and that's it. so maybe it works better in my head for that reason idk!)

music wise i imagine in the last 2~ lines the beat starts to slow down, the notes become a bit higher, every syllable is drawn out for a bit longer, and in "stops" there's a short pause before the final chorus comes in. speaking of!

yeah showing each of them separately would've been a bit too cringey even for me. i don't think they're good as standalones BUT i like them together paralleling each other. it's smth i like to do in almost every song i write tbh, and very often i switch between "i" "you" and "we" as the song keeps going, to sort of draw the listener/reader in and let them become a part of the "narrative" if they want to and relate to it hehe. kind of make them (and me) feel less alone in this feeling

second chorus talking abt masks is once again smth i put in a lot of what i write (<- joker kinnie. again) askflglg sorry for not being original it will happen again 👍 but what can i say, it's relevant to the topic!!

in the last one i tried adding some sense of urgency. a reminder that this comes after the build up of the bridge, so it'll either be more intense or more quiet. haven't decided yet.

"maybe one day I'll fit" goes with the original "unfit" idea. bc at the end of the day this is what it's all about yknow? gotta make up a humansona and constantly roleplay as it to get through.

and through that "maybe one day" sentiment I'll slide into the outro. it's less sung than it is spoken sing-songly and dramatically to the beat (speaking of, i imagine a slight key change by now, as well as the music itself becoming more chaotic and intense and messy for this part), so i didn't bother much with rhyming or a steady pace heh

i mean. can it really be something i wrote without at least one reference to death and/or being a slut (<- dazai kinnie).

actually ironically "better die as myself than be loved as a character" might be my favorite line in the whole thing bc. well as i said the song is sarcastic. in its essence it's about being TIRED of pretending to be someone else. it's about how it's not something you actually want, you only want its benefits. but eventually, at the end of the song, you're just too tired to keep it up. all shows have to end eventually. and, this connects back to the first chorus - "maybe one day I'll be myself", kind of implying this one day might be in death, since all of life is pretending (only good vibes and fun on this blog ♡)

but. not dead yet. and i still want the benefits. so better find an alternative! nobody needs to know who you are if you've got tits they can touch! - is what i learned growing up and as a teen it never failed me lol.

so, the song ends with finally taking off the mask, but. taking off everything else in the process as well. all for being wanted, or the pretense of being loved, because that's the only thing that matters 👌

and that's it! i apologize for being depressing and for how long it got, but i hope you liked it anyway uwu

[thevampirearchive]

Commentary on Interview With The Vampire - Episode 4 (Spoilers)

Now why did I think that was a cotton tree. Does Cotten even grow on trees? Okay

Omfg diaries! CLAUDIA MA CHÈRIE!

Black Angel :) he is beautiful! Pls, I love this!

From a young person perspective, I’m with Lestat. Imagine being a child forever? I’d loose my mind. @ vampires pls don’t turn me till I’m a crisp 35 pls and thank you.

“I dont know” I know this pisssed Lestat off. Like why you bring her here WITHOUT ANY PLANS? But also? Same Louis, same.

And ofc begging will help because Lestat would literally do anything to make his man’s happy, king.

Louis trusting Lestat and not saying anything as he nearly drained her —- iktr

Pls not a street cat, I love her.

“If you want it to be” Louis where will she go if it’s not pls he’s so nice, giving options and not tryna scare her. Lestat would have said yes ofc, and if you need anything else, tell me because I’m very rich.

“That make him the dumb one” not me weezing, child pls. And all while Lestat in the dark.

I love this tho, them communicating like this and watch Lestat be jealous as he should.

“What’s he saying” he’s so irritated! This is the reality Edward Cullen thinks he wants but trust, he doenst. Nobody does.

Relying on Louis words alone would make me anxious cuz it’s not like they understand eachother most of the time. And now miss C has access ? Yeah hang in their Lestat.

Not him calling her his lil Milkweed — IM SCREAMING

“Family secrets” awwwww. And Lestat got so happy! I’m so exited.

Uncle Les and Daddy Lou are the cutest nicknames!

Aww her observing them! She’s so cute.

Pls not the vegetarian parents vs the carnivore parent feuding. EAT HIM EAT HIM EAT HIM! Love how she sounds a lil sad but not for long cuz she about to have the best time and Louis will scream cry throw up

Lmaoooo ‘it has movement’ no because speak! Lestat, pls, You’ve been dragged for your outfits twice while we watched, you’re not a fashion icon pls you’re just French.

Pls not her smelling someone better hhhhahahahaa glad the swans are safe.

Ew not the singing, she’s so creepy, it’s perfect!

‘Not a cop’ Claudia said ACAP purr, that’s my niece for sure.

Lmaooo not now Lestat, he’s really tryna ‘that’s my baby’ rn? We’re busy bro pls have your proud father moment at home (but yes that’s y’a girl! PEIROD)

Lestat smiling at Louis as he really he’s him what Lestat taught him :) and I’m sure he’s especially happy because Louis had that whole morality dilemma. And now, he’s not even springing it on Claudia! Good!

Lmao she’s so pouty , same. Start screaming and kicking. “From starvation” hahahahaha ON HER KNEES, pls they need to pay attention or she’ll eat the streets💀

LMAO she’s having too much fun! FROG LEGS? Y’all sure this isn’t Leatats daughter?

Not her smashing the macaron, I know Lestat screamed cry threw up at the sight. It’s his country’s national treasur!

Hahahah not Kill Juice!

I love how she plays in the light! She’s such a kid Argh same.

Yes Daddy Lou is cute but Lil waif? Lmao not him calling her a fucking abandoned neglected poor orphan to her face 😭names go hard tho tho — they should drop a track

‘The book is her friend’ not Louis translating to Lestat who still don’t get it. She talks to books cuz she her daddy’s daughter hello? What’s not clicking.

Pls not the pen scribbling, it’s so loud 😭

And they squished in the coffin like sardines! MAMA,WE TRAPPED INNA THIS BOMBOOOOOOOO! WE CANNOT ESCAPE WE CANNOT GET OUT! WE TRAPPED LOKE A PACK OF SARDINES

NOT Lestat tryna threaten her and she unbothered, PEIROD. Nobody cares if your tiers uncle Les, answer the question 🔫

Omg! Louis French is good :) lmao Lestat just yelling FUCJING he’ll. Iconic. Lestat is super young-acting tho so idk how that was thrown at him. He’s mad cuz he cannot sleep, he cannot rest, 🎶a single mom who works two jobs —🎶

Pls not her testing the coffin, same.

Hahahahahahah not his feet in her face, baby was traumatized!

Not catching them get it on, ‘you miss me’ 🤓 yes pookie, hahaha I loved that

Glad Claudia realizes the hypocrisy, but don’t question him too much 😭 glad Louis set her straight cuz he’s been yelled at now a lil too much.

Pls not him explaining queerness, purr. She’s so freaking cute! Perfect casting!

Pls Claudia looks disgusted THAT FISH LOOKS NASTY INDEED. He’s tryna convert her and she’s still frowning, lmaoo. I lowkey don’t like this cuz he’s confusing her because he’s so tightly connected to his humanity still vs her adjusting so well already.

Pls not the call for prayer, mashallah. i could go on a 7 day rant about vampires and Muslims, and how Christian’s should step aside cuz their religion does not have the full facilities to hold such supernatural creatures to begin with! PURR

Claudia was out here on some author shit. Wrote all down like her life depended on it.

Her room is so nice. Lmao not her throwing stuff at him I’m screaming!

I’m glad she explains how time flies, cuz some ppl think eternal immortality is = boredom. YOU FOOLS!

Aww she truly is a child! Gets between her dads when they fight? Many of us are having war flashbacks, I bet.

Pls not them watching Nosfaratu and laughing! Same. The mockery. Pls

Another funeral, haven’t people died enough? And She wore red to a funeral? Baby, I bet it was lestats idea.

Pls not his sister against same

Sex parents hahahahahahahahha enough.

Not the smugness of Louis, same💀 I bet he’s sad tho, but still resentful after all.

Pls not his sister thinking Lestat pays for it all.. he does but Louis pays him back :/ put some respect on his name. And the threat. Pls! Their like a lil family of killers.

NOT THE SMELL! She was stood up there like that picture of blue Ivy

Lestat pls be Fr! cuz he acts however he wants and doenst care, and that’s why her behavior was fine lmaoo

Uncle Les and you are Evil Twins lmao, iconic evil twins.

Not him having the most convekyrrd complicated sex talk 😭 even i was slime huh? So he’s teaching her how to drive and what love and sex is? Iconic.

If someone called me belladonna I’d scream, that’s my fav nickname for her — why is he comparing her to drugs like this? Sir? 😭

Pls not them hunting together how Louis said he hated. Louis did tell her she hated it for a reason and I see why, but I see why Lestat loves it. Creepy, weird, enticing snd perverse.

Lmao not her just jumping him, I love this scene. “She’s with me” purr.

She’s realizing! I love it! But realizing too hard cuz now you playing grown.

‘Jumped a girl’ LMAO period, Lestat is so proud of her and Louis is terrified 😭I’m both 🫶🏾 Except that outfit is giving elderly, she truly is lestat’s daughter.

Pls, not darkie, I’m triggered y’all. 💀 NOT DARKIE. Almost had her commit homicide.

Omg he kinda looks like Louis’ brother :) omg.

Oh my gosh, she’s like a fanfic writer her thoughts hve be giggling.

She reads so fast she doenst even look down, me when? All so she could go see her man’s do his rounds!

THE FLOWERS! PLS! Not the blocking! ‘This is your father speaking’ LOUIS GET OUT OF HER HEAD! Can a girl get some privecy in here ?

Omg she’s matured so much! WAIT! I need a timeline cuz she said 19, is she lying or has 2. Years passed? If so, it took her almost 2 years to complete one diary? That seems fake.

Pls not the horse 😭 she’s finally getting what she wanted. But now I’m scared. ‘Your an Angel’ leave that man’s neck alone baby girl, cuz it cannot end good! YOUR KILLING HIM! CLAU! CLAU! NOOOOO! The horse fighting for its life in the back cuz she killed him!

I love her and I’m so sorry baby girl but not taking him home knowing your uncle is Lestat…. He’s gonna hurt your feelings Fr

‘He’s dead’ thump — I AN SCREAMING.

Louis: Lestat :/ — translation: be empathetic pls

Lestat: :) what? :)? — Translation: I keep telling y’all we vampires but everybody in this fucking house wants to mess around and be entangled with humans so this why y’all get, bodies bodies bodies..

‘Clean up after yoursel’ AND IM SCREAMING AGAIN. Y’all don’t understand this is him when he’s angry. When he’s yelling and shit? That’s him hurt and frustrated. Smiling and smooth and snip? Yeah y’all have him pissed.

Talk about taking actions for your responsibility. Lestat would be a ‘let it cry itself to sleep’ type of parent. He has to teach her tho or she’s gonna be miserable. And I love how harsh he is with her cuz this is exactly how Louis would have had to face the music if Lestat wasn’t so in love and so afraid of loosing him that he forced gentleness and patience out. Lestat fed up tho, he cannot have a Louis 2.0 situation, Mans 159, he’s tired.

“I don’t want you” 🤨 Louis, quickly, who does this remind you of? Option 1. You? Option 2. toi?

Not Anne Frank and Stephen king, Daniel…. 😀

‘I had two and their—’ lmaooo Daniel finish the sentence 💀

They have a lot of dark eras of their lives, ngl.

‘Bandaid for a shitty marriage’ DANIEL😭 this man must be an earth sign cuz what’s this brutality. Taurus maybe ? Or a

Coffin scene smacked. Omg the flavors! Me at 3am having yet another mental breakdown nBUT WORST. She’s realizing everything and it’s rushing thru her, poor baby about to end it. Pls and the nock on wood, CLAUDIA

LESTAT! LOUIS! GET HER! Their truly parents to an emo child cuz she basically cutting and venting to paper and I cannot beleive that’s how it ends :/ GIVE ME MORE DAMN IT!

[kyaruun]

okay butlers was all in all a really sweet and nice story about idols from different units working together but. as most kinosei izumi i've read,,, there's something with it

i can't judge the other characters because out of the cast in butlers i'm not that much a producer for anyone other than izumi and he reads weird. and i don't mean the translation, i mean his character. i think kinosei likes to remind the players izumi's perfectionism is some kind of "bad habit" he can't/doesn't want to control, but i feel like they're ignoring two key elements to izumi's character and development throughout the series. 1) izumi's perfectionism is aimed at himself before everyone else and 2) he would never speak bluntly to someone in a higher position than he is.

an important part of his character is the fact that he's been working in the industry for a really long time (see portrait) and the way to do stuff "the right way" as been slowly ingrained into his character. things like keeping a good relationship with coworkers and not bothering his superiors to make sure he gets called in again for future work. respecting work hierarchy. yes he is bossy, yes he is hard to please —but that's on his personal relationships. he knows how to separate his work persona from his personal life persona.

i'm not saying izumi is not perfectionist and doesn't require a certain level of perfection from the people around him, but he only does that with other idols around his same level. he will be annoying and bother knights to keep practising until he's satisfied with the outcome because he knows HE can do better ><

i feel like it all boils down to izumi's "i want to show the best side of myself (only)". he doesn't want people to see all the struggle behind the cameras and wants his fans to have the best time, at all costs. he thinks it isn't fair for them not to get a wonderful experience, so he is working himself to the bone for that.

i don't think putting izumi as someone who values himself before absolutely anything else and acts like a karen all the time is actually the take they wanted to make... maybe i'm just reading too much into his motifs (pls read butterfly) but deep down izumi doesn't want to get attached to people so they won't hurt him. but being unnecessarily mean to people in his work environment doesn't really help that out? i thought e! had already worked on that.

for me he feels like the annoying senior who keeps pushing everyone around him to do better because he knows they can do better, with a little extra help! because he gets stuck in similar situations and his own pride won't allow him to ask for help, he'd rather be the help other people need, even though they might not realize it.

so tldr: in my honest opinion, izumi is the kind of person that gets frustrated with himself when something doesn't come out the way he expected it to and actually blames himself for it, even if he won't say it out loud

[useless-switzerlandfacts]

Baden in Switzerland where the peace with the Kaiser and (the) King of France was negotiated

The “Peace of Baden” in 1714b was the first international treaty negotiated on Swiss territory, making it the first of many. More than 300 years ago, the neutral Switzerland was chosen to host to mediate between the different parties in the War of the Spanish Successor.

The peace was already largely negotiated before in Utrecht (the Netherland) and Rastatt (Germany), but the final touch was given in Baden. While the Swiss did not have a direct connection to either of the groups, the catolic parties within Switzerland were able to secure a deal with the other catholic party of the war in order the ensure being protected if there would be another civil war in Siwtzerland between the protestant and catholic cantons (as there was one 2 years before the Peace of Baden).

[therunawaykind]

And I can't help myself - She Looks Like Fun Drabble

Pairing: Fratboy!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 958

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, alcohol consumption, body shots, jealous Wanda, possessiveness

The Request: May I pls request a drabble for 'she looks like fun' in which maybe R does a body shot from Wanda and later on in the party, someone takes the seat where Wanda was sitting so Wanda asks if this seat is free but is actually pointing at R lap. When she proceeds to sit R is a blushing mess hiding behind her and Wanda can't stop smiling.

A/N: Soooo this has been the first thing I've posted in a long while. I know it's shorter than what I usually post but these are just some fun 'She Looks Like Fun' requests and drabbles that all of you can send to me btw. But yeah in the last few weeks of university so things are a bit hectic at the moment. But please if you do send me any more requests/drabbles you wanna see for this series because that's one of the main things I wanna do at the moment. But yeah it's nice to be around talking to you guys again and interacting. I've missed you guys a tiny bit.

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Here you were again at another one of the Maximoff’s parties, the first in a long time actually for no specific reason actually, they just didn’t wanna throw them….well that’s what Wanda told you. Pietro on the other hand told you it’s because she wanted to spend more time with you and to get to know you better because and you quote “she’s a lil softie for you and no one else.” So here you both were at the first party back after the hiatus and both you and Wanda’s first party as a couple. You couldn’t lie you were slightly shocked that Wanda was sticking by your side all night and being openly affectionate with you, you would’ve expected her to keep up her cool tough guy act.

The thought that didn’t cross your mind was that by Wanda doing this she was showing everyone what was hers and to not even attempt to try anything. To say the least, you and Wanda were stunned when you both saw Vision still attending the parties you both were convinced he would’ve gotten the message by now….but apparently not he was persistent you can give him that. Without saying a word Wanda grabbed your jaw and turned you to face her as she placed a deep passionate kiss on your lips which led you to a dazed state. After far too long for Wanda’s liking, you finally started to kiss her back and she smirked slightly as she felt your fingers hook around her belt loops to pull her closer. Before things could escalate anymore Wanda albeit reluctantly pulled away and placed a few more pecks on your lips as she saw you chase after her.

It was only then when she pulled away did you both hear all the whooping and hollering going on from all the party attendees. You chuckle embarrassedly and hid your face into the crook of Wanda’s neck. You could feel the vibrations from the back of her throat as she laughed “Y’know, you’re very cute when you get all shy. Acting as if you couldn’t take charge and control me like you’re a lil weakling when we both know very well that isn’t the case is it Darling?” Wanda couldn’t hear a thing of your response she only heard muffles but couldn’t help but smile as she placed a kiss on the top of your head. As her lips stayed pressed against your head she noticed Vision give her a little wave as he was making his way over.

She glanced at Pietro who was standing with Natasha and Maria looking at the new couple as they all saw her eyes dart back to Vision, they all nodded subtly. All of a sudden you heard Natasha yell “hey lovebirds it’s your turn to do body shots!” Wanda grabbed your shirt instantly and dragged you over to the table before you could even consider taking off your shirt Wanda’s was off and she was laying on the table. You stared at her mouth agape whilst Natasha and Maria got everything ready. Wanda couldn’t help but chuckle and wiggle her eyebrows at you. You cleared your throat as you made sure to not make it blatantly obvious you were staring at her chest even though no one could give out she was your girlfriend…the only exception to that rule would be Pietro being her brother and all. Maria slapped you on the back and whispered amongst the five of you “Come on Y/N/N don’t act so nervous, trying to act as if you’ve never kissed our dear Wanda Maximoff here, in any of these places before.” You shook your head subtly as you licked the salt off of Wanda, quickly moving to suck the shot out of her navel and moving up to take the lime out of her mouth which very quickly turned into Wanda kissing you again. As you tried to pull away Wanda held onto the back of your neck and pulled you down, you both couldn’t help but grin at each other as you pulled away.

After that, you both retreated to sitting in one of the corners on sofas with your closest friends. Wanda decided she’d get up just to get you both refills of your drinks but somehow found herself stuck and separated from you. Wanda couldn’t remember the party getting this full and this many people attending but then again she was focused on you all night, no one else really mattered if you were with her. However, when she spotted you she noticed some random girl none of you knew sitting in your corner though that wasn’t the worst part, she had taken the seat Wanda was originally sitting in which of course was right beside you, she was your girlfriend for crying out loud.

Instead of making a big scene she strut over and looked down at you “Y/N Darling, is this seat taken?” You immediately glanced at the girl who had taken Wanda’s seat scared of what might happen, Wanda grabbed your jaw for you to face her as she moved her face inches from yours “that wasn’t the seat I was on about Darling.” You let out a faint “huh?” You scan your eyes down Wanda as you see her index finger point at your lap as you let a faint “oh.” Wanda can’t help but chuckle as she sits on your lap sideways and sees you hide your face in her side she immediately feels the heat coming from your cheeks. Unnoticed by you both all your closest friends….and the random girl are looking at you both with soft smiles seeing you both truly at your happiest.

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[todoscript]

how he would ask you out

request: pls some headcanons of how the boys (shinsou/tamaki/shouto) would ask the girl they like out 🥺

characters: shinsou hitoshi, amajiki tamaki, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff

word count: 3.3k+ total, 900-1200 per character

tags: pining, confessions, fem!reader

author’s notes: sorry if this sounds rushed?? i can’t write 

copyright 2021 todoscript, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated anywhere else.

SHINSOU HITOSHI

two years after his enrollment into the hero course, shinsou had finally came to terms with the feelings he’s been holding for you for quite some time now.

what began as just friendly encounters and kind gestures felt like something more to him. after all, you were one of the key people that led him to transition smoothly into the class, with your helpful demeanor and coming to his aid whenever he was stressed and troubled by the new environment.

you went out of your way to organize study sessions and small arrangements to mingle and get to know the other students better.

you reiterated to him that if he ever had any questions about anything, he could always come to you.

initially, shinsou thought he was being a burden—that he was just heavy baggage that tied you down.

however, you assured he was anything but, and stated that you were more than happy to help him, even going to say you enjoyed spending time and getting to learn more about him.

at your response, shinsou was appalled at how genuine you were.

appalled… but also very grateful.

eventually, there came a point when he realized there was no mistaking the affection he felt for you—not when he subconsciously noted every one of your habits and intricacies, able to tell whatever emotions were running through you at a simple glance, or when he would stop to admire the way you decided to style your hair differently or changed your look, thinking you seemed even more charming that day by the confidence you exude.

no, at that point, he’s sure it was painfully obvious. so obvious, in fact, that kaminari and mina had chosen to skip today’s group study session in favor of letting the two of you have your “alone time”. whatever that could mean.

shinsou had grimaced over their excuse of “being too busy that day” when you had told him the reasoning they gave you over text, despite knowing their next exam was only a couple days away. recalling just how nosy and enthusiastic they could get when involved in these kinds of affairs, he had an inkling of what exactly those two were planning. you, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to their schemes.

however, what did latch onto your mind was the thought of spending the day with only shinsou, in his very room, sitting across from each other with your textbooks open in front of you. though you should be more attentive to your studies, you couldn’t help the palpitations beating loudly in your chest and your wandering eyes that snuck glances at him after every question you answered.

unbeknownst to you, shinsou mirrored your actions all the same, reciprocating the flustered behavior, albeit a bit more subtly.

keep calm, hitoshi. why are you getting all worked up? he would say to himself, putting on his usual facade.

although he came off as relatively calm and collected on the outside, it’s difficult to keep his emotions in check when actions never lie.

that was especially true as he reached his hand out for the eraser you two were sharing between each other. with his eyes continuing to gander down at his notes, he hadn’t noticed that you were lunging for the same thing—not until your fingers had suddenly touched and you both pulled away at a speed equivalent to making contact with fire.

his stare unfaltering, shinsou was surprised to discern the embarrassed look on your face that immediately fixed itself as you rummaged through your pencil pouch. a second later, you pulled out another eraser, one that was notably smaller than the one you were sharing.

“um.. i’ll just use this,” you offered, and shinsou rubbed the back of his neck, the whole situation more awkward than it needed to be considering you never had any trouble sharing your supplies with each other before.

through some examination of your demeanor, shinsou had made a… bold enough claim, thinking that maybe—just maybe—you held the same kind of affections for him as he did for you.

it’s like he recalled earlier—actions never lie—and shinsou didn’t let the quiver of your lips or the intense concentration at your work to avoid meeting his gaze go past his head. that’s what spurred him to finally act on his desires.

without warning, he leaned forward on his seat to lay his hand over yours that caught your attention. you met his eyes, astonished to say the least, but more so concerned by how your eyes widened before you were about to open your mouth to ask him what was wrong.

the violet-haired male beats you to your words, voice resonating firmly, “y/n.”

you blinked. “y-yeah..?”

“i know this might be a bit late coming from me, but,” you could feel his hand tighten atop yours, “after exams, do you want to catch a movie together? just the two of us?”

shinsou fought the urge to look away, bashful at how he made his declaration for your time. the warmth surging under his skin was alleviated at the smile that slowly curled on your lips as you rotate your wrist, your palm touching his. the expression washing over your features told him you’ve been waiting for him to ask you this for a while now.

“i’d love to.”

AMAJIKI TAMAKI

ever a shy and introverted individual, tamaki has never had the heart to ask you out despite years of harboring a crush on you.

every time the thought had crossed his mind, he’d reason poorly with himself that you wouldn’t be interested in him in that way.

it didn’t help that his low self-esteem only deepened that thought that had now rooted itself in his brain.

at such a prestigious school like u.a., you were bound to find someone far more compelling than him—someone with guts, confidence, and great social skills. not a guy like him who conjures the image of potatoes at every anxiety-inducing encounter he comes across.

he was relieved enough to settle himself comfortably as just your friend—a title that allowed him to stay close and keep within your circle, all the while subjecting him to simply admiring you from afar.

but his eyes that held a hidden longing for more weren’t overlooked by a fellow student of his. or to be precise, the ever curious and free-spirited, hadou nejire.

always aware of his surroundings, it was hard not to notice that peculiar stare she’d aim at him during moments where he might’ve just finished speaking to you, or when you’d pass by and his head would naturally drift in your direction.

it was like she was picking apart every detail laid on him and it made tamaki absolutely restless.

tamaki’s suspicions and anxiety were later raised during one instance at the lunch table. he was at his usual seat next to his other big three companions, mirio and the aforementioned nejire, who was eyeing him with a gleam in her eye.

even with his self-consciousness, tamaki did his best not to pay any mind to the undesired attention and munched on his plate of takoyaki—the octopus nestled in the batter sure to come in handy later in training that day.

to his dismay, you passed by their table with your tray of food in hand, and nejire did not waste any time calling you over in that cheery tone of hers.

she invited you to sit down with them. you gave her invitation some thought before ultimately placing yourself in the free spot next to mirio, with nejire and tamaki already seated across from you.

the girl was all smiles and hums while tamaki was in a state of distress, both at his friend’s odd behavior, which was starting to spell trouble, to having you pulled into all of this. mirio was just being mirio, welcoming as always.

you greeted everyone at the table, making eye contact with mirio and nejire, but tamaki evaded your line of sight. he simply waved his reply without breaking away from his balls of takoyaki.

luckily for him, you didn’t give his lack of words much thought and started digging into your own lunch. it was then that nejire found it appropriate to start up a conversation.

“y’know, y/n, i’ve been meaning to ask you this, from one girl to another,” she mused, finger waving around playfully, “are you interested in anyone here?”

upon hearing her question, tamaki almost choked on his bonito flakes, his cheeks puffed and eyes blown. meanwhile, your chewing slowed as you gave your answer some thought.

“uh… well–”

“i’d say fujita from class d is quite the looker! think you’d be interested in them?”

after swallowing the food in his mouth, tamaki began to subconsciously listen in on the conversation. he paid close attention to your responses with bated breath, a small part of him anticipating your answer highly.

“fujita’s nice and all, but i don’t think we’d really get along as a couple.”

tamaki mentally sighed, relief evident all over his face. it was then that mirio had started fitting the pieces together after watching his close friend’s brow wrinkle throughout the entire exchange before finally relaxing at your words. crossing his eyes with nejire’s only confirmed his suspicions as the girl sent him a wink.

as a friend, mirio wasn’t about to let nejire’s operations fall flat. getting up from his seat, he motioned tamaki to come with him.

“i heard they have extra yakisoba bread right now! we should go check it out!” he said as a guise to give the other two time to themselves, free from tamaki’s prying ears.

unaware that mirio had caught on so quickly, tamaki didn’t object to tagging along with him. mostly because he thought of this as an opportunity to get some fresh air and calm his racing heart, finally feeling the effects of the blood rushing to his face.

with tamaki supposedly out of earshot, nejire was free to go about her questions however she wanted.

“okay then, if not fujita, then who? there has to be someone, right?” the girl scooted further in her seat out of pure curiosity. “tell me, is it perhaps someone in our class?”

it was your turn to be stricken by her boldness. you tried picking at your food, stuffing it into your mouth to avoid answering, but nejire’s tenacity outmatched you.

finishing your lunch, you opened your mouth to speak, “actually, the person i’m interested in is pretty close to you…”

nejire feigned ignorance, innocently placing a finger under her chin. “who? mirio?”

“ah no, it’s tamaki, alright?!” you ended up blurting, voice hushed but frantic.

bingo. hearing exactly what she wanted, nejire returned to her original position, a triumphant grin plastered on her lips. replaying what you said out loud in your head, you buried your warm face in your hands.

unbeknownst to you, tamaki had ended up hearing the whole exchange around the corner coming back to their table as mirio lightly snickered at his revelation of an expression.

the blond patted his shoulder. “go on then, you know what to do.” he threw tamaki an encouraging thumbs-up.

the boy gulped in response before inhaling a deep breath of air to prepare himself for what would arguably be the most important yet stress-inducing moment of his life so far.

noticing you getting up to discard your tray, tamaki—through a final push from mirio—went to make his move.

hearing him suddenly call out to you, you were caught off-guard. after admitting to your crush on tamaki to nejire, you felt your cheeks get hot just seeing his face right afterward.

“oh hey, did you get your hands on those yakisoba breads?” you scraped up a way to start the conversation.

“right... that… mirio managed to get the last one in the cafeteria,” he answered. then he brought his hand to rub his elbow, fidgeting in his spot as he found it difficult to look you in the eyes again.

“tamaki? something wrong? are you upset that he got the last yakisoba bread?”

he shook his head. “no, i… it’s just… i’ve been meaning to ask you this for a long time now, but never had the courage to say it to you because i didn’t think you ever liked me that way. but…” he finally mustered the determination to face you head-on. “would you go out with me, y/n?”

at first, you were speechless—absent of words as you relayed his request in your mind over and over again. then, your eyes softened, lips easing into a smile as you reached out for his hand.

“i thought you’d never ask.”

TODOROKI SHOUTO

it’s no surprise to many that when it came to asking someone out, todoroki didn’t exactly know the first thing to do.

mostly because he’s never asked anyone out to begin with.

you were the first person he’s ever felt these kinds of emotions for, and to be frank, he wasn’t sure what to make of everything that had been going through him when that root of infatuation had started to bloom inside him.

rather than sulk or contemplate on his thoughts for too long, he surmised it was best to simply come clean and ask for advice.

but when he confessed to what had been on his mind lately, he wasn’t expecting such a vigorous response from his friends.

“i’ve been thinking about asking y/n out.”

there was a layer of uncomfortable silence amongst the group before all hell eventually broke loose.

midoriya, uraraka, and iida immediately sprung from their seats in the common room, yelling “what?!” in unison. tsuyu and her frog-like mannerisms were more idle, but still surprised nonetheless.

todoroki was unfazed by their reactions, actually expecting it to go that way considering he’s never brought up any topics of that nature before. at the very least, he’s thankful he decided to say this when it was just the five of them. compared to what the whole class’s reaction would have been like, this was incredibly tame.

todoroki was used to always listening to what others had to say and never being the subject of the conversation when it came to dating.

but now things were different. he was openly admitting to them that he was regarding someone romantically. that he possibly sought a relationship with this someone—wanting to be committed to them and become the very best person he could be right next to them. to the four, this was coming completely out of left field.

after everyone simmered down and let the news sink in, the dual-haired boy resumed his thought,

“but i’m not sure how to do it.”

though the entirety of the group never had any experiences when it came to dating, they knew enough from media and pop culture to get an idea on how to help him. more than todoroki could imagine on his own anyway.

“i know! how about we go with the romantic and suave approach!” uraraka suggested. the rest asked her to elaborate.

“it’s simple! it starts by you leaving a note on her desk right before class, saying to meet you on the rooftop of the school! before the designated time, you should wait there for her with a bouquet of flowers, and then when she arrives, confess your feelings and ask her out!”

midoriya rubbed a finger against his cheek, skeptical. “i don’t think that sounds as simple as you’re making it out to be.”

tsuyu chimed in beside him. “those kinds of ideas usually only work well in books, ochako.”

pursing her lips, uraraka gave her plan a once-over, and realized it did seem a bit more involved and out of character than what todoroki was used to.

despite sharing a few more ideas with one another, they couldn’t narrow it down to any perfect one.

that was when iida clapped his hand, bringing everyone’s attention to him.

“alright, i think we’re starting to blow this whole ‘operation’ way out of proportion,” he said.

“if you’re honest about the way you feel about her and show it sincerely, i’m sure she’ll consider your feelings. you don’t have to do anything extravagant when it comes to asking someone out.”

listening throughout every word, todoroki nodded. meanwhile the other three were astonished that their class representative could be so whimsical when it came to romance, which in turn, iida was conflicted by. however, at the very least he was glad they could help out a friend. and so, todoroki went about his day with their discussion in mind.

he found that in many occurrences, whenever he crossed by you and thought of it as a chance to ask you out, there would always be someone to come in and take your time away. leaving him to stand there awkwardly before dismissing the fated question for later.

eventually, the sky dimmed and evening arrived, and by then, the whole class was already back at their dormitory and about to have dinner.

through some rather convenient circumstances, you two were actually assigned on kitchen duty that night.

“it’s been getting pretty cold lately so i was thinking we should cook up a hot pot for everyone.” you gave your idea to him as you pulled out some ingredients from the fridge, waiting for his reply, but it came a few seconds later than you were expecting.

“right. sounds like a good idea,” todoroki answered a tad late. upon realizing it was only going to be the two of you making dinner tonight, his mind was occupied by what he and his friends spoke about earlier.

that was when he started overthinking the situation and absentmindedly half-assed his work.

“todoroki, the cut on the tofu is slightly uneven.” you reviewed his cutting board. looking down, he saw the inconsistent slices of tofu limp in front of him. if bakugou were the executive chef for the evening, he would’ve had to hear an earful from him.

“sorry…” he apologized quietly, reaching out for another cube of tofu to cut.

“is everything okay? i know you’re still learning how to cook, but i’ve seen you show some significant improvement on your knife skills recently.” you voiced your concern for him.

the white and red-haired boy stared at the white bean curd while hearing your worried tone and couldn’t find it within himself to continue the task. it was now or never he thought. he laid the knife flat on the cutting board.

“actually, i wanted to ask you something.” he turned toward you. “do you… want to go out with me?”

nothing but the sound of the fire running on the stove could be heard in the kitchen. todoroki didn’t move his eyes away from you, watching you nearly drop the plate of siu choy and shiitake mushrooms out of shock as your mouth was hanging open.

when you caught onto your bearings, you let out a small laugh. “oh… i… wasn’t expecting that,” you admitted honestly, placing the ingredients on the counter safely.

the boy furrowed his brows. “is that a no?”

“n-no! i mean that isn’t my answer! i–” you fumbled with your words, cheeks warming up now that his confession had finally sunk in. in the meantime, todoroki found your reaction quite amusing. the corner of his lip quirked into a grin.

“what i mean to say is that yes, i’d love to go out with you.” you accepted the offer wholeheartedly. todoroki would be lying if his heart wasn’t throbbing from anticipation. he’s glad he’s able to rest and put that aside.

“now let’s continue making this hot pot together!” you cheered, smiling widely and he found comfort in your words before resuming slicing the tofu.

[totiredtowrite]

emergency request pls? with (any) hq boys and for those like me who keep getting misgendered? ive been out for god knows how long and i just feel like ppl just cant look past me being a girl and apparently not presenting as a guy enough ,, rlly just makes me feel invalidated as heck, like i haven’t been “myself” enough even though im finally comfortable in my own skin an forgetting being a girl and them someone goes “hey girlie” :/

im sorry this is so long and i think eventually became a little rant, i saw the emergency request thingie and took the chance, i hope you get this tho, and hope it counts as an emergency req ahaha, absolutely your works!!

ᴇᴍᴇʀɢᴇɴᴄʏ

Kyotani and Tsukishima (separately) comforting their transmasc boyfriend for being misgendered

Warnings - Talk of misgendering, insecurity, and dysphoria, cursing bc kyotani

Note: I hope it gets better dude :(. If it's any consolation, remember that technically you were never actually a girl. You don't owe anyone masculinity by any means, n as long as you know who you are you're set up for success <3333

FEM ALIGNED READERS (SHE/HER, SHE/THEY), DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE

⇰ Kyotani Kentarou

Kentarou's always been good at reading people.

That's why he can always tell when you need him, it's like a sixth sense. He can tell when you're out of it, or need help, or if you generally don't feel okay. He'll find you wherever you are. You won't see or hear much aside from him grabbing your arm and muttering something about "Stupid people with their stupid ideas."

He's surprisingly rather good at helping you. After all, he doesn't really understand why people misgender you. You look like a guy to him? Hell he forgets you're trans a lot, simply because you say you're a dude, so you are. There aren't any two ways or second meanings.

You'll never actually get the chance to say anything before he wraps his body around you, sitting there like a guard dog. It would be hard to get out until he deems that you feel better. You'd have to tell him multiple times, and he'll make you say it, that you're 'man enough.'

It's endearing, if not a little aggressive.

⇰ Tsukishika Kei

God he's...something, that's for sure.

Unlike Kyotani, he won't make you promise anything. He won't encase you in a human cocoon, he won't sit there with your face in his hands and tell you that you're man enough. What he'll do, though, is equally as effective.

Tsukishima was never one for showing his affection in big ways. It scares him, if he's being honest, to do so much for someone. That doesn't mean he won't help though. He's over six feet tall, his jackets and shirts are huge. (Even on him, seeing as he's a pretty lanky guy). He silently drags you away from whatever you're doing to throw one of his giant hoodies on your face, telling you to "just put it on already, you're making this weird."

He never wants you to feel bad. He is soft for you, deep deep down, and every once in a while you'll see it. If he ever catches you feeling insecure, too feminine, he'll gently put his hand on your back and say something along the lines of "you're my boyfriend, not my girlfriend, idiot."

He calls you handsome and he gives dirty look to people who call you the wrong things. It's your body, after all, nobody else should have that invisible right to make you question your validity.

~

Do not repost, translate, or copy my work on to other platforms.