#thank you mr city ♡

[hopecomesbacktolife]

🎶 would you still feel alone if your nightmares left / and they never returned home?

I'll say it now cause it's long overdue / whatever happens, I'll never forget you 🎶

[bloatedandalone04]

Mr. CEO

➪the one where rafe is obsessed with you, his perfect wife who is always there for him when he comes home from work.

Warnings: rafe is a ceo of a made up company, smut, dirty talk, pussy whipped rafe, he eats you out from behind, oh yeah, swearing, unprotected sex, spanking, over-stimulation, fingering, oral (f receiving), size difference, age gap (not mentioned, but rafe is 27 and reader is 22), back door touching (that is all), multiple orgasms from both rafe and reader, biting, breeding kink (lowkey), i think that is it.

Word Count: 3.9k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | THANK YOU FOR 5.5K FOLLOWERS

Rafe has the perfect life. 

The dream job, dream house, and a dream wife. 

At just twenty seven years old, Rafe had more money than he’ll ever need in his life. A week’s worth of work earned him what most people would make in a couple years, which was kind of insane to him.

He never planned on joining the CEO lifestyle, but after his father got seriously sick and had to take an early retirement, thus having his son take over for him, Rafe was thrown head first into suits and briefcases and weekly meetings. While it was hard to adjust to his new title at Cameron Capital at first, he managed to gain control over everything and become one of the best damn CEOS in the city. 

At just twenty two, he had more money to his name than he ever thought he would, and a few years later he was making steady and much needed developments and deals, and then when he turned twenty six, he met you. 

You, of course are his dream wife, his love of his life, and his entire fucking world all wrapped up into one person. 

Rafe had been so busy for most of his twenties, he was sure he wouldn’t find someone to settle down with until maybe his mid-thirties, but then he met you, and he was head over heels. 

So much so, after knowing you for less than a year, he got down on one knee and proposed to you with the big, fat diamond ring you’ve been wearing on your finger ever since. A few months after that, you and he were married, and Rafe felt like his life was complete. 

He had his never-ending income, an amazing support system, and his forever girl. What else could he possibly need?

-

Rafe’s day started out really good.

He woke up to his perfect wife in his arms, your body still naked from the hour long fuck session you and he indulged in last night. And before he left for work, he fucked you for another half an hour and left you in the mess of sheets in pillows with a pretty, fucked out smile on your face. 

When he got to Cameron Capital, he was greeted by the overly flirtatious girl at the front desk who seemed to be oblivious to the big, golden wedding band Rafe hadn’t taken off since you slid it on his finger. But she made no move on him, and he was off to his office.

Then he was bombarded with paperwork and phone calls, and by the time it was noon, he wanted to call it a day and go back home to you. But he stuck it out, and eventually it became six in the evening, and he got to go home.

When he entered the house, he dropped his bag by the front door and loosened his tie, his eyes trailing over the bottom floor of the massive house he bought with you in mind. He found you in the living room, your body perched on the couch as you read through some files he asked you to go over that was for an upcoming development. You were so much smarter than him, Rafe trusted you with anything that involved paperwork. 

“There you are,” he hummed, a lazy grin forming on his face as he walked into the room, and he was greeted with the sight of you looking up at him with nothing but love and adoration in your eyes. 

Rafe dropped his tie onto the end table as you smiled at him, and he felt his heart tighten in his chest. You were so beautiful, so sweet, he still couldn’t believe you were all his. 

“Mmm, my gorgeous girl,” he cooed, leaning down to kiss you deeply before pulling away to return your pretty smile. “Fuck, I missed you today, baby.”

Your smile grew as you kissed him again, your focus quickly slipping from the papers scattered on the coffee table in front of you. “Yeah?” you grin, bumping his nose with yours as you lean back on the couch. “I missed you too.”

You reached out and took Rafe’s big hand in your small one, pulling him down onto the couch with you. As soon as he was next to you, your hands found his shoulders as you began to knead out the small knots you felt under his skin. 

“Hard day?” you asked, kneeling next to him as you worked on his shoulders and kissed his cheek. 

Rafe groaned, his eyes closing for a few seconds as your fingers pressed into his skin. “Mm, you have no idea,” he answered, turning his head to press another deep, lingering kiss to your lips. One of his hands comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek bone when he pulls away. “God, I don’t know what I’d do without you, sweet girl. You keep me grounded…keep me sane.”

You laugh quietly when his other hand finds your waist and pulls you until your body is on top of his. “That’s good,” you murmur, brushing your lips against his as your arms drape around his shoulders. “I like you sane.” 

Your fingers run over his prickly head, his recent decision to buzz off all his hair turning out to be a fucking amazing one since you were obsessed with it. Rafe had never seen you become that turned on so quickly than you did when he first walked into the bedroom after he got it done, and less than five minutes later, you were riding his cock with his face buried between your breasts and your hands running over his rough hair. 

“I’m sorry you had a hard day, baby,” you whisper, leaning down to press soft kisses to his jaw. “My poor husband…such a hard worker. But you’re a sexy hard worker, I’ll give you that.” 

Rafe grins, his hands coming up to squeeze your hips as he tilts his head back to look up at you. “You’re a tease, you know that?” he mumbled, running his nose along your jawline. “Touching me like this when all I’ve been thinking about today is burying myself in my sweet wife’s pussy.”

You let out a needy whine, giving a slow and subtle roll of your hips as you nip at his ear. “Really? Because all I’ve been thinking about is picking up where we left off this morning, but this time you fuck me even harder,” 

Letting out a deep grunt, Rafe’s hands move down to give your ass a firm squeeze before he stands up from the couch. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he carries you towards the stairs. “You want it hard tonight, baby?” he huskily asks, his hands gripping you tighter as he ascends the staircase and heads straight for the bedroom. 

Your laugh of excitement had his slacks tightening as he pushed the door open and entered the room he shares with you. “Yes,” you answered, your lips brushing against his ear as your fingers unbuttoned his shirt as best as they could in your current position. “I wanna feel you everywhere…God, I’m already so wet for you. You’ve ruined me.”

Rafe grunted again before he tossed you onto the king-sized bed, shrugging off his shirt as he looked down at you with dark eyes. “I know I have,” he muttered, crawling on top of you and caging you in with his forearms braced by either side of your head. “I’m gonna fuck this tight little pussy, fill you up so fucking deep and ruin you for anyone else.”

You moan at both his words and the way his hand pushed up your shirt before sliding behind the waistline of your shorts to feel the wet patch on your panties. “Feel that, baby?” you purr, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you rubbed yourself against his hand. When he pulled his hand away and shoved your shorts down your legs, you whimpered and looked up at him with wide eyes. “I need you…need my husband.” 

You scratch your nails down his scalp before pulling back to lift your shirt over your head and toss it aside, leaving your top half covered only by your pretty lacy bra. “Fuck,” Rafe groaned, pulling down your bra to free your equally pretty tits. “You’re all mine, baby. These,” he grunted, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples as he palms your breasts. “Are all mine.”

He leans in and kisses you deeply, his hands sliding under you to unclasp your bra so it’s completely removed from your body. You bucked your hips against his, trying to create friction as his hands returned to your chest, and when he tugged at your bottom lip, you let out a needy moan.

“Such a desperate little thing for me,” he coos against your mouth before he pulls back and flips you onto your stomach, his big hand meeting your ass in a firm smack. “I’m gonna take my time with you tonight, baby…wanna hear all the pretty sounds you make for me.” he promised, hooking his fingers into your panties and dragging them down your thighs, letting you kick them the rest of the way off. 

“Yeah?” you rasp, now completely naked as you wiggled yourself back against him, eagerly awaiting his next move. “What are you gonna do? Are you gonna put your mouth on me? Eat me out from behind?”

Rafe grins, running his hand along your reddened cheek before he delivers another sharp spank to it. “Is that what you want?” he asked, soothing your stinging skin with his palm before he lowered his head to take in the sight of your dripping center. “You want my mouth on this pretty pussy, sweet girl?”

You whined and nodded, subtly trying to push yourself back against him. “Yes…please,” you begged, looking over your shoulder at him. “Please.”

A second later, Rafe was burying his face between your thighs, licking a long stripe up your entire slit before he reached the cleft of your ass. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he groaned, licking along your folds as he brings his left hand up to tease your clit. “So wet for me.” he praised, easily sliding two of his fingers knuckle-deep inside you and pumping them slowly. 

“Oh, fuck yes,” you gasped, shamelessly grinding back against his face and tongue as your head falls forwards. One of your hands fists the sheets as you wiggled back against him, your core desperately accepting each thrust of his fingers. “Fuck, your mouth is so good, baby.” you moaned, your other hand reaching back to grab hold of his head. 

Rafe hummed, his fingers pumping in and out of you faster as his tongue pokes out and circles your clit. “That’s it, baby, let me hear those sweet, sexy sounds you make for me,” he cooed, scissoring his fingers gently to stretch you out a bit more. His other hand reached around your body to palm one of your breasts, his thumb and index finger pinching and pulling at your nipple. “You’re taking my fingers so well, sweet girl…such a good girl for me.”

His words made your head spin, your pussy clenching around his fingers as you bit down on your lip. “Oh, my God,” you whined, your hand pushing his head back towards your aching core with little force since he was already making his way back to your clit. “Wanna cum, Rae…please, make me cum.” 

Your arm was shaking a bit as you struggled to hold yourself up, and the waver in your voice had Rafe smirking as he kissed your clit. “Cum for me then, baby,” he encouraged, licking your clit again as his fingers sped up their pace. His thumb pressed against your untouched rosebud, not breaching it but applying a delicious pressure that had you shaking. “There you go, baby, let go for me. Cum all over my face.” he urged, feeling your inner walls tighten around his fingers. 

Your whole body begins to shake and tremble, your eyes rolling back as you pull your hand away from his head to assist your other one in holding you up. “Fuck…fuck, yes, Rafe,” you moaned, your body tensing up as you cum for him. 

Rafe groaned, his fingers becoming more slick with your release as he continued to fuck them in and out of your sopping core. “Mm, that’s my good girl,” he praised breathlessly, placing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh before he pulled his fingers out of you slowly. He brings them up to his mouth to clean your sweet taste from his skin, his cock twitching painfully in his boxers as he uses his free hand to rid himself of the rest of his clothes. 

He rises up behind you, one of his hands gripping your hip while his other reaches around to cradle your stomach possessively. His dick was rock-hard as he grinds it against the cleft of your ass, letting you feel just how badly he needs you. 

“I need to fuck you, baby,” he muttered, letting you reach around and guide his cock through your folds, coating it in a thin layer of your arousal. “Need to feel this tight, sweet pussy wrapped around me.”

You were still shaking a little as you looked over your shoulder at him, grinding your sensitive core along his cock. “I need you too,” you whispered, jolting a bit when his tip brushed against your clit. Your hands went back to the sheets, and you fisted them as you held his intense gaze. “Fuck me, Rae. I need you so bad.”

Rafe hummed, his cock nudging against your entrance as he ran his palm along your belly. Without wasting another second, he thrust himself inside you, your wetness and previous orgasm allowing him to bury himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. “Fuck yeah, you’re so tight for me,” he grunted, setting a deep, hard pace as he drives his cock in and out of your soaked pussy, his lips brushing against your ear. “So fucking wet, baby…fuck.”

His hand tightens around your hip and holds you in place as his other one slides up your body, teasing your tits before it finds your throat. He wraps his fingers around your neck, applying a faint pressure as he pounds into you from behind. “Fuck yes,” you moaned, your body jolting forward with each deep thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, only adding to the intimate and steamy atmosphere as you fist the sheets tighter and let out gasps and whines. “Harder…harder, Rae.”

Letting out a harsh grunt, Rafe tightened his hold on you and began fucking into you harder. His hips meet your ass over and over again with every brutal thrust, his cock reaching impossibly deeper in you every time. “You’re my sweet girl, aren’t you? My sweet girl who needs to be fucked hard by her husband, huh?” he mocked, but his voice wasn’t condescending, just full of lust for the perfect woman he got to call his wife. 

His hand tightens a little more around your throat, feeling your pulse jump under his palm as his thumb pressed against your jaw. Rafe leaned down and pressed his mouth to your shoulder, his teeth gently sinking into your skin to mark you as his in another way, and it only made you moan louder. 

“You’re mine, all mine,” he breathed out next to your ear, his hand sliding from your hip to grope your tits, tugging and pinching your nipples as he leaned over you. His body covered yours completely, encasing you in his embrace and filling your senses with nothing but the deep, intoxicating scent of his expensive cologne you love so much. 

“God, yes,” you cry out, squeezing around him tightly as the bed softly creaks under your joined weight. “All yours, baby…God, you feel so fucking good.”

Your soft cries were music to Rafe’s ears as he felt you pulse around him, his thrusts increasing even more. “That’s it, baby, squeeze me just like that,” he murmurs, placing both his hands on your hips as he pulls you back against him to meet his thrusts halfway. “Cum for me, sweet girl. Cum all over my dick like a good girl.”

His words send shivers all throughout your body, and a few seconds later you felt the knot that had been steadily forming in your stomach begin to tighten. “Oh, God,” you whimpered, your eyes squeezing shut as your head fell forward. A long, loud, moan left your lips as you let go and came for him for the second time, coating his pulsing cock in your sweet, slick release. 

Rafe groaned deeply as he felt you spasm and clench around him, your high washing over you and coating his throbbing dick. “Fuck, that’s it,” he said breathlessly, burying himself deep inside you one more time before he came too. He stills, filling you up as harsh pants leave his mouth and a thin layer of sweat settles on both yours and his skin. He leaned over you, his chest meeting your back as he peppers your neck and shoulders with soft kisses, slowly and gently rocking into you. “God, I love you so much.”

You whimper softly, leaning your head back on his shoulder as he fucks his cum deeper inside of you with gentle thrusts. “I love you too,” you sigh, your eyes still shut as you try to catch your breath. “I love when you keep fucking me even after you’ve cum…so fucking hot, Rae.” 

One thing about your relationship was that neither of you ever sugar coated things, and both of you had really dirty mouths. It was like that from the very beginning, and it only added fuel to the fire that was forever burning between you and him. 

Rafe hummed contentedly, his hips continuing to slowly rock into you as he reveled in the feeling of your slick walls enveloping him. “I’d keep fucking this perfect pussy forever if I could,” he mumbled against your skin, grinding lazily against you. “Never knew anything could feel this good.” he added, his hand returning to your belly, where he couldn’t wait to feel his baby grow one day in the future. 

“You feel better than anything,” you whisper, biting down on your lip when you feel him rub against your sensitive walls. Looking over at him with a fucked out expression on your face, you asked, “Can you keep going? I don’t want this to end yet…feels too good.”

Even though you’ve already cum twice, and Rafe had cum once, it was obvious that neither of you could ever get enough of one another. Which was perfect, because he never wanted to be without you - and that was one of the reasons he put that ring on your finger. 

Rafe grinned, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in with a deep, satisfied grunt. “You want more, huh, baby?” he muttered, starting to move again with deep, long strokes. “This greedy pussy isn’t satisfied until I’ve fucked it raw, hm?”

Bracing one hand on the bed next to yours, he leans down and kisses you deeply as he picks up the pace, thrusting deeper and harder. His other hand stays on your hip, guiding your body back to meet his increasingly rough fucks of his hips. 

As his lips brush over yours, Rafe could feel his cock swell inside you, already hard again even though he just came. But that was the you effect, the one that got him effortlessly hard within seconds. 

“I love you,” he mumbled against your mouth, his forehead pressing against yours as he slid in and out of your full pussy. “I love you so much.”

You moan, kissing him again as he presses you harder onto the mattress. “I love you,” you said back, your nose bumping against his. “So much.”

Rafe would never get tired of hearing you say that, he knew that much as his fingers dug into the skin of your hip. “Take it, baby,” he rasped, fucking you deeply as his eyes shut. He wasn’t going as fast or hard as he did the first time, but it felt just as amazing, because everything felt amazing with you. Everything always would. 

You bury your face in the sheets as loud cries of his name left your lips, and Rafe’s eyes flickered to your left hand, your pretty rings on display as you held onto the sheets with a death grip. 

He reached out and wrapped his hand around your wrist, coaxing you to let go of the bedding, and when you did, he let you squeeze his hand just as tightly. “Cum for me again, sweet girl,” he murmured, pressing kiss after kiss to your rings and knuckles as he felt himself get close again. “Let go and give it to me.”

And a few seconds later, you came again for him for the third time. You were shaking uncontrollably as he came inside you once more, his arms wrapping protectively around you as he whispered praises into your ear. 

“You did so well,” he mumbled, kissing your cheek as he held you up against his chest. “Took me so well…my sweet fucking girl.”

You were whimpering and trembling, your eyes squeezed shut as your whole body tensed up from over-stimulation. “Rae,” you whispered, unable to say anything else but his name at the moment. 

Rafe slowly pulls out of you, his softened cock slipping free from your inviting core, and he watches as a stream of white leaves your folds. He carefully turned you on your back as he settled beside you, his hand resting on your hip as he gazed down at you with dark eyes. “How are you doing, baby?” he asked, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Was that enough for you?”

You nodded quickly, “More than enough,” you answered, reaching up to stroke his face. “I think I’ll be feeling you drip out of me well into next week.”

Rafe laughed quietly, glancing down at your still shaking thighs as his cum leaked from you and dripped onto the bed. “Good,” he grunted, reaching up to cradle your jaw in his hand. He kissed you again, much softer than most of the kisses you and he shared tonight. “I love you so much, baby. You’re my entire world, my everything…my sweet, sexy girl.”

You smiled, tangling your legs with his when he moved to lay down on his back, pulling you with him so you were resting on his chest. “You’re everything to me,” you said back, laying your head on his shoulder. “Everything you do for me, for us…fuck, it makes me fall in love with you all over again. I never want to be without you, Rafe. I want to be with you for the rest of my life.”

“I want that too,” Rafe said quietly, wrapping his arms tightly around you. “I promise, baby, we’ll have all the time in the world together. I’ll do anything for you, protect you, adore you, and whenever you need me to, I’ll fuck you senseless and fill you with my cum.”

You hummed, nuzzling your cheek against his neck. “Sounds absolutely perfect,” you sighed, “You’re perfect. And I love you.” 

“Mm, yeah, you’re perfect too, baby,” he said back, holding you against his chest as he feels your racing heart beat against his own. “I love you too. More than anything.”

After placing one last final kiss to your forehead, you fell asleep in his arms, covered in sweat and his cum, and Rafe wanted every single day to end exactly like this.

[nebulousmoon3990]

GHOSTS OF THE PAST (Batfam x neglected hero reader)

III𓂃› SPIDER

Warning: violence, swearing, sensitive topics, bad things, spelling mistakes (English is not my first language) and the reader has black hair and blue eyes (sorry), female reader!, I accept criticism, but please don't be rude, everything is fictional!

Hey guys! I'm really sorry it took me so long to post (I was sorting out some things in my life). well, enjoy the chapter!♡

Clark really didn't know what he was getting himself into.

He had expected to come to New York to do a simple interview for the Daily Planet, write the report and spreadsheet right here while eating at a café and if possible bring back some souvenirs for Lois and Jon.

Fighting a supervillain was definitely not in his plans.

It had happened out of nowhere, while he was waiting for the meeting with the businessman, the urgent news on television warning about a monster attacking the city made him leave urgently. He could solve this and finish it in time.

He just didn't know that he wouldn't need to solve it.

While flying, now as Superman, he easily found the villain, it wasn't very difficult to see him in fact. He was the size of a building of at least nine or ten stories, his skin was rocky and hard, made purely of stone. Clark was about to attack the giant when he heard a scream.

Looking through the villain a helicopter was in the way, the pilot tried to maneuver away but they would be enveloped in the confusion. Using his speed, Clark tried to get closer to the helicopter, however it was not enough since it was still far away.

The rocky hand would catch the vehicle before him.

Well, he is not alone.

Before the walking rock caught the propeller and possibly destroyed the vehicle something got attached to the hand and pulled it up, bringing the villain's focus to another place, his distraction was enough for him to catch the helicopter. He noticed as he moved away that what had stopped the giant was... a web? He followed with his gaze the path of the white rope and saw a figure pass quickly on it.

What?

Leaving the helicopter on top of a landing area of ​​a nearby building, he approached the frightened journalists. "Are you hurt?"

The one who answered was the cameraman, who was still breathing heavily, "N-no, Mr. Superman. We're fine-"

"IT'S HER! TYLER FILM, FILM!" The woman's excitement made the man quickly grab his camera. She looked at him and gave a shy smile while holding the microphone, perhaps a little embarrassed by her euphoria. "Oh, Superman, thank you very much. It's just that we never get clear images of her, so you can understand our excitement."

She? She who?

No one needed to answer his question because when he looked at the monster he saw the "she".

A super heroine

Her figure swayed between the giant and the buildings. She wore a suit that covered her entire body, leaving no room to see any of her features. All Clark could see was that she was short, perhaps indicating that she was a teenager.

The monster tried to grab her with its free hand, moving much faster than it had when it was with the helicopter. She, however, brought her webbed wrist towards the giant's face, causing him punched his own face. Swinging away from him, she taunted, her voice echoing off the buildings. "Hey big guy, is that all you know how to do? For someone so tough, you're softer than jelly!"

Hit a nerve, for sure.

"Who is she?" He asked the man who was filming the action with the reporter, even in a situation like that the cameraman looked at the heroine with a glint in his eye, a glint that intrigued Clark.

"Her? She's Spider-Woman."

Spider Woman, he had never heard of this superheroine, but that didn't matter now.The "Spider Woman" swung again on her webs at the stone man's aggression towards her. Superman moved away from the reporters and headed towards the brute. He was quick to bump his fist with the giant's, preventing him from punching a building. The action made the heroine finally notice the Kryptonian. She widened the white eyes of the mask when she saw him flying. "Superman?"

She hung from a building, climbing the glass to get closer to him, she looked at the monster and then at him, her head spinning until she realized something, knowing that he would help her she addressed him. "Hey, Superman. Can you immobilize him for me for at least a few seconds?"

The Kryptonian looked at her, hesitating a little, but then a smile appeared on his lips "Leave it to me."

They moved together at that moment. Clark used his freezing breath on the stone legs, freezing them and immobilizing him to the ground. With the giant still, the spider woman climbed on his back and reached his neck. While the monster struggled, he saw her take a syringe and apply it to the rocky neck. With the liquid entering the monster's veins, he began to scream. Clark was about to intervene when the thunderous scream stopped.

Slowly, pieces of stone fell from the giant, and when they found their end on the ground, they turned into sand, being carried away by the wind. Little by little, the monster began to disintegrate until there was nothing left of him, just a cloud of dust in the place. Approaching to see the damage, he went down and came across the individuals.

The villain, once gigantic and grotesque, was now a thin and small man, passed out in the heroine's arms, while his breathing stabilized, Clark for the first time observed Spider-Woman up close, without being in the heat of battle.

The costume she wore was outlined in black and golden, the fabric was a mix of a dull color and another bright color, the symbol of a spider displayed proudly on her chest, the hood covered the mask on her face, making it difficult to see the white eyes of the mask. What intrigued him most was that it was not common fabric, since when he tried to use his x-ray vision he could not see Spider-Woman's identity.

She certainly knew how to hide her identity.

Just like someone he knew.

"Looking at he now, he doesn't look like a villain."

"And he isn't, they forced him, he's just an ordinary citizen." The dust slowly cleared, now revealing the street they were on. "Honestly, it's a surprise to see you here, shouldn't you be in Metropolis?"

Clark started to sweat a little. True, he should be in Metropolis, not New York, but he couldn't just watch everything on TV, there was a villain attacking the city! And he didn't know New York had a heroine to protect them! How careless of him. "Yeah, actually, I was..."

"was?"

"I-I flew past here! That's it." Spider-woman looked at him before starting to laugh, well at least he tried to hide it, in fact the excuse had been pretty bad.

"Okay, I'll take this as truth, you must have your reasons, don't you, Mr. Clark?"

The aforementioned froze, looking at the spider, who stood up carrying the injured man. The sounds of sirens were heard in the distance, indicating that the police were coming. "What?"

This time, it was the spider woman who froze, realizing her carelessness too late. She looked at him, and even with the mask on her face, he could have sworn a bead of sweat was on his forehead. "Ah, I and my big mouth."

"Do you know my identity? How did you-"

"L-look, I swear it wasn't intentional, seriously! I have... my reasons to know, but I promise! I didn't tell anyone and I won't tell anyone." Superman just looked at her in astonishment, it wasn't intentional? How did she find out then? While the police and ambulance finally arrived, the woman was quick to hand the man over to the police and briefly explained everything, she distanced herself from the police, ready to leave as quickly as possible when he approached her.

"Who are you? Like, really?" She looked at him, clearly anxious to get out of there. "That's... a secret, but like I said, I won't tell anyone, don't worry."

She pulled away from him again, releasing a web from her wrist, already trapping her in a building to resume her run. But before that, she turned to Clark, the tone of her words showing no lies, only truths. "After all..."

"If I wanted to do this, I would have done it nine months ago."

And with that she was gone.

Again, Clark didn't know what he was doing.

It had been a few days since his encounter with Spider-Woman, the revelation that she knew his identity disturbed him, but that wasn't what was going through Clark's head now.

That was who she was.

That woman (or teenager?, Clark doesn't know) had been saving New York for at least a year and absolutely no one in the league knew, she was literally under their noses the whole time and no one knew! But while they didn't know anything, but New York knew, you weren't liked by everyone but most definitely liked you, you gave those people security every day and they trusted you.

You were a real mystery.

In addition, there was the identity issue. Clark wasn't rich, so he didn't have spectacular security to hide his identity, but he always took precautions. You, however, found out so easily. Clark knew that your "it wasn't intentional" statement might be wrong, but whether it was intentional or not, you still did it.

Clark knew that you wouldn't reveal your identity to the world. Your statement made that very clear, but even so, his head itched and itched to meet you.

Maybe he was being hasty, but you were a great heroine, there was no denying that. You fought well, you were smart, and you had experience. You could be a good ally. Besides, Clark doesn't know if you're an adult, so it would be a good way to keep you under supervision.

That's why he's heading back to New York now.

The sun had already set, giving him a view of the beautiful night that had fallen while he was flying, but at that moment Clark was trying to find you.

He didn't know where you could be, in fact he didn't know what to do when he found you, he didn't even know what sparked his interest, he simply... felt. Something about how you were, the mystery surrounding you intrigued him, and Clark simply followed that instinct.

His thoughts were interrupted when his super hearing picked up a sound, of what sounded like running, it could have been anything but his instincts told him to follow the sound, to find the source.

He did.

And thank goodness he did, because he found you.

You were jumping over the buildings, like he had seen you do before, and it was only when you stopped that he could approach you. You were on the edge of the building, looking down at the floors. Clark intended to approach you, but it seemed like you had other plans.

"I thought you had already left." Your voice was neutral, showing no irritation or pleading, it was as white as a sheet, which made him stop, a little surprised that you had discovered him. "I did."

You turned to him, the eyes of the mask you were wearing showing him your confusion, looking him up and down, your reasoning led you to realize why he was here. "You- wait, are you following me?!"

"Following is a very strong word-"

"But you just admitted that you went to the metropolis and came to New York again!" Your arms gestured so quickly thanks to your nervousness that when you realized it you put one of them on your waist and the other you ran your hand over your face.

Clark couldn't help but find this cute.

"Look if this is because of the identity-"

"More or less, but that's not all." Clark's mouth turned into a gentle smile, your brain thinking about the possibilities again, all while you looked at him.

Silence reigned between the two, neither of them wanting to comment before the other, but it seems that Spider-Woman didn't have much time because a sound came from her gauntlet, she quickly accessed it and Clark saw that the "bracelet" was a type of miniature screen attached to the fabric of the suit, you looked at the messages before turning to Clark.

"I'm sorry but I have to go." You looked at the city below, looking at the lights that illuminated the place. Clark was about to speak when you cut him off before. "No offense Superman, but I think it's better if you go back to Metropolis, I don't have time to talk."

You spread your arms wide as you leaned towards the edge of the building, your eyes narrowed affectionately, which contradicted your voice full of irony. "Then this is our last meeting, thank you~"

And then you threw yourself.

Clark flew to the edge, ready to catch up with you, only to be faced with the emptiness of the city, you disappeared before their eyes, like a ghost.

"Then this is our last meeting."

No, it wouldn't be.

And it wasn't.

For the past four months, Clark has been bothering you, appearing out of nowhere, scaring you, helping you, making you more irritated by his constant appearances, making you more dynamic, more ironic, but happy.

It was a confusion of emotions, to tell the truth.

You expected that after a while he would stop doing this, after all he had things to take care of, for example: a city called Metropolis.

But Clark apparently didn't agree with that, because at least once every two weeks he would go to New York just to talk. The weirdest thing is that he started talking about his life to you as if he had known you for years! He talked about how he loved Lois, his relationship with John and Conner, GOD! He even talked about the Daily Planet!

Dude, he didn't even know who you were and he was just talking about his life to you?

You, however, always listened to him, you didn't tell him anything about your life but you didn't stop listening to him either.

Honestly, if you wanted to, you could very well mess with his life.

Good thing you're the heroine here.

As you jumped between buildings, your danger sensor beeped, warning you of something approaching. Knowing who it could be, you went down to the terrace of a building. Your suspicions were confirmed when you felt a gust of air from above. Turning around, you came face to face with the hero who had been on your tail for the last few months: Superman.

Clark had a gentle smile on his face, the smile of a hero, something that conveyed confidence and comfort. And it really did.

"Hello, Mr. Super, you look as happy as ever."

"Yeah, you look as relaxed as ever." He landed in front of you as you leaned against the building's railing, your elbows keeping your body steady as you assumed a carefree posture. Clark glanced at the buildings behind you nervously, uneasy about something. "I hope you don't mind, but we have company today."

You arched an eyebrow in doubt as your danger sensor went off like crazy, you had a few seconds before you turned around and launched a web at the person. You expected to find a criminal or even a super villain, but you were faced with the sunglasses of a teenager in a costume similar to Superman. "Yeah, she's really fast like you said."

What?

Before you could react, a much smaller figure appeared in front of you, just like the teenager (the difference was that he was a child and didn't wear glasses) he also looked a lot like Clark, he floated in front of you, bright and excited eyes directed at you. "Wow! You're so much cooler in person!"

A drop appeared on your head, turning to the man of steel you muttered to him. "Who are-"

"John and Conner." He chuckled softly, seeing your eyes narrow in irritation. "John really wanted to meet you and Conner ended up joining too."

"Oh." You pulled away from John a little as sarcasm flooded your lips. "That's great!"

Conner chuckled softly as you released him from your web, he approached you as he bent down a little to speak to you, since he was taller. "I thought you'd be happy to see us, it's not every day three Kryptonians come to New York to help with crimes." His voice held an undeniable teasing, the low and deep tone of his voice having the words dragged in his speech, it seemed almost sensual.

You stopped as you watched the other two, John and Clark froze, their gazes fixed on Conner, who you had confirmed was trying to subtly court you.

But you're not the shy girl here.

You approached him, close enough to be face to face, your breath could be felt on his mask. Conner, surprised by your bold move, leaned back, his cheeks flushed with your approach. "Well, New York is already protected by its heroine every day, so I don't need help." The smile on your face grew when Conner turned redder at the sound of your voice.

You quickly moved away from him and hung on the ledge, you turned to him, your figure shining with the lights in the city. "Then watch me do my job, mini super."

You fell from the building, the wind shaking your hood as you fell. Before hitting the ground, you threw a web up and climbed up again, hanging on one at a time. As your figure moved away, Conner and John looked at you. "Damn."

"You better come, or we'll end up losing her."

The night would be very long.

"OH GOSH, I'm so tired!" You yawned as you hung on the webs, it was almost four in the morning and you decided to go home. The supers had already left, you believe they were tired too (Especially Conner, where you and he played flirting all night).

You stopped on the terrace while looking around, seeing if someone or something had followed you, seeing no threat you hung on your web and slowly fell to your apartment, you opened the balcony door and as soon as you entered you were greeted by a satisfied meow.

Looking at the sofa in the living room, you saw Mooly lying on the cushion, the little black kitten moving and going to your ankle, cunning for affection. You laughed softly and picked her up gently, while placing her in your arms. "Hey, haven't you gone to sleep yet?"

As you petted the little one, footsteps were heard throughout the house, when you looked up you came across a large white vinyl robot, its form being embraced by its shadows, its round eyes shining in the dark space.

You looked at it and it did the same, the atmosphere apparently cold and tense to those looking from the outside, but completely the opposite for those who live in this house. The robot bowed respectfully, its voice, calm and tobotic, showed deep down a contained joy, reserved only for those close to it.

"It's so good to see you home." He stood up from his position, round eyes blinking slightly in the darkness of the apartment.

"Master (Name)."

You smiled as you set Mooly down on the couch again, you raised your hand to his neck and squeezed it, causing his mask to retract, revealing his identity. His face, the face of someone forgotten is a frequent presence on the walls here.

(Name) Wayne, the Spider-Woman, the missing daughter, the useless Wayne. His face was older than before, aged like red wine, clearly showing that you took after your father, since your face was just like his. Beautiful and exquisite, cold and deadly.

"It's good to be home Mark, where's Alex?" You asked as you squeezed your shoulder, which was a bit sore from today's patrol.

"Mrs. Alex is already asleep, she said she couldn't stand listening to you flirting with Superboy anymore."This made you laugh out loud, you could imagine Alex covering his ears so he wouldn't hear the two of you. You pressed the bracelet on your wrist and in a flash your suit retracted into the bracelet, showing your figure that had a loose blouse and pants. You stretched, heading towards the bathroom.

"Well, I guess I better go too, tomorrow I have a college project and Mrs. Vivian wants me early at the coffee shop" before you could get there Mark called you, his voice echoing through the house. "You got a message from Master Billy."

You stopped and looked at Mark, the notification displayed on his cute belly from an ologram. "Did he send it at this time?" The robot shook his head and handed the phone to you.

Opening your messages you went straight to Billy's contact, concern starting to creep in on you, but then again, you should know how Billy is.

Because when you saw the message you felt your stomach churn.

Billy Batson was eating the most beautiful and delicious candy you had ever seen in your entire life, and he sent it to you even though he knew about your addiction to sweets.

That little shit-

You quickly typed furiously on the cell phone keyboard, not caring that it was late, just wanting to curse Batson for making you feel hungry when you planned on not having dinner.

'Fuck, I hate you Batson ಥ_ಥ'

His answer didn't take more than a few seconds to come, his response irritating you even more.

'HEY, you finally answered me, I was already worried. Besides, I know you love me 𖹭𖹭𖹭(∪ ◡ ∪)'

'I promise I'll buy one for you, good night little spider ツ'

'...good night Billy.'

You wanted to cry, that's it.

Especially because you were hungry now.

Knowing your fate, you threw the cellphone on the couch and turned on the kitchen light, you heard Mooly and Mark's footsteps following you.

"I think there are still ingredients for a mug cake, right?" eating now wouldn't hurt.

"Bruce? BRUCE!" The aforementioned looked at the entrance of the batcave where Tim and Jason had rushed in. The two looked like they had seen a ghost, sweaty and pale, still in their suits. "Tim, what is it?"

"You- You need to see this!" He sighed heavily as he threw himself into the chair at the control panel, his fingers typing faster than he had seen them on missions. Bruce looked at Jason, who was standing next to him, who had a burning look on his face, hope hidden behind his eyes.

What's going on?

Bruce didn't need to ask, because Tim began to explain to him. "Since the accident with... (Name), I've never found any clues..." Bruce shuddered at the sound of your name, they didn't talk about that subject.

Even after three years it still hurt.

"But that was because I wasn't looking in the right place!" The teenager put up the pictures of the bus that had been carrying you that day, only the wreckage that was left was in the picture. "But now-now I know where to look."

"Last year, Star City had several people kidnapped suddenly, just like (Name) no one found any clues about the case, but Jason and Roy investigated thoroughly and managed to find a kind of underground dungeon where the kidnapped people would be."

Now on the computer was the picture of the bus and of a kind of what Bruce would call a mental hospital. The place was so rotten and filthy that Bruce wondered if anyone lived there. "Apparently there's nothing, but if you look behind each of the huge graffiti on the wall..."

Tim, using the program, removed the graffiti, which gave Bruce a view of the white walls, but in the middle of them, pieces of something nonsensical resided there. "... and put them together."

The movement in Tim's hands moved the images on the wall, distorting and shaping them until one completed the other, making the nonsensical make sense.

"A symbol."

The symbol of a womb wrapped around a two-headed serpent.

"Do you know where else this symbol is?" Tim again returned to the image of the bus wreckage, he shaped the image and put together pieces of the walls that resulted in the same symbol, but with small parts missing. "So you mean-"

"That the same people who kidnapped the people in Star City were the ones who kidnapped (Name)." Jason answered for the two, his tone as dejected as Bruce's.

He can't blame him, he's in a similar state.

"The problem is that I can't find out what it means, I've tried on the Internet, in history books, even on Wikipedia! But I haven't found anything."

The crushing silence suffocated those present, leaving invisible marks on their being. "It has to have a meaning, anything- okay, what does it mean to a womb?!"

"Jason, this is stupid-"

"No, but we have to try! Shit, you only looked in science books or-or whatever, but have you tried to look for anything related to mythology?" Tim thought for a moment, but shook his head negatively.

"The womb refers to the woman, the mother. Now, what does a two-headed snake refer to?" Bruce asked no one in particular, his thoughts searching for the knowledge he had about it.

"Would it be a mother snake? That's nonsense."

Jason thought for a moment and realized something. "Technically, it's not." The red hood searched the control panel while talking to Robin and Batman.

"In Greek mythology, there was a creature that was half snake and half woman." The mythological image appeared next to the symbol. The grotesque figure of the creature somehow referred to the symbol.

"She was known as the mother of monsters."

"Echidna."

HI GUYS, this chapter was a lot of work, I had a lot of blockages but I managed to do it.

Now I have a question to ask: Is Conner treated as Clark's son or brother?

You already know that I haven't read the comics, I've watched Young Justice (at least there it gave the impression that Conner would be treated as Clark's son) but on Wikipedia it says that Conner is treated as John's uncle, please answer me 😭.

I'm also doing a reader drawing (NON-CANONIC), I think I'll do headcanons too. I'll possibly leave a link below.

Ok, let's go to the Tag list \(•◡•)/:

@daiyanomochi - @amber-content - @wizzerreblogs - @foggyv-oid - @kore-of-the-underworld - @theunknowntravel3r - @space1crow - @shortnsweetsposts - @popursocks - @sugasweettea - @salfishers - @itachisank - @jsprien213 - @infirebaby - @yhin-gg -@h-ib

@bunbunboysworld - @h-ib - @sheep-from-rad - @tatsuri-zomushiki - @the-holy-pigeon - @geminis93 - @horror-lover-69 - @mybones537 - @eyeless-kun - @timotheechalametswifeys - @justabreadslice - @nymphzy0 - @1-800-g00ber - @pix-stuff - @jsprien213

sorry for any mistakes.

Bye 𖹭

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part 22

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

Part 22

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mr. Kerr,” you reply with a nod.

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

“I am, thank you.”

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

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

“Ladies first,” he mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did something happen?” Harry asks, concerned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? No, no, that’s not necessary.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excited for the holidays, madam?”

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

“Hm… Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My bag is ready. Yours?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-♡-

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

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

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

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

“Yes!”

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

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

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

“Why?” Miguel asks, raising an eyebrow.

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

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

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

“Are you sure?” Miguel asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“All done,” Miguel says with a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you know tricks?” you ask Miguel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Faster?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!” You answer, chuckling.

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

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

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

“Hmm… How are you feeling?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey! What are you guys up to?!”

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

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

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

“When?!” you ask.

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

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

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

“Are you interested?” Miguel asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like mine toasty,” Miguel answers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You guys went skating?” Hobie asks.

“Mhm,” you hum, eating your s’more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you ask, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” you whisper, catching his attention.

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

“You okay?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I see,” Miguel responds.

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

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

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

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

-♡-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s blood,” you reply, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll find a first aid kit. Please sit down… “ you trail off and look around the room, searching for a chair or something for him to sit on. “There,” you gesture once you locate a wing back armchair near the dresser. Without giving Miguel a chance to decline your help, you head to his bathroom in search of the kit. Thankfully, you find one under one of the sinks. “Alright, I found one.” You announce, leaving the bathroom and walking straight to Miguel, who is sitting on the chair just like you asked him to.

“It’s truly fine, Dulzura,” Miguel insists just as you kneel at his side. He looks away for a few seconds, finding it unnecessary for you to give him this much attention to the point you’re on your knees. “It’s just a small scratch.”

“I said that to you many months ago. On Father’s Day when I hurt myself, remember?” you say, opening the first aid kit and looking for the right supplies. “It was just a scratch and you still tended to it.”

“That’s…” he starts, but trails off because he was about to tell you that that situation was different.

“Please… Just let me,” you gently say, looking up at him.

“I — Okay,” Miguel answers, staring back at you and finding it impossible to refuse your care and attention any longer. He swallows softly, his maroon eyes gazing over your face. “Alright, thank you… Thank you, Dulzura.”

You smile sweetly at Miguel before you begin checking the wound. “It’s pretty long,” you state. “May I…?” You look up again, referring to touching him.

“Yes,” Miguel replies quietly.

You nod before gently cleaning the bit of blood present. Your fingers touch his skin respectfully, always polite of Miguel’s boundaries.

Miguel looks away a few seconds later and stares at the broken bed while you continue to work. He flexes the fingers from his free arm over and over again, feeling your fingers on his skin and trying not to think about how pleasant your touch is.

“All clean,” you murmur. “Luckily, it’s not a deep scratch, but it’s still good to make sure.” You search through the kit to find some kind of ointment, something to alleviate any discomfort and help boost the healing process before turning to face him again, the situation reminding you of last year, when you tended to much worse injuries on Miguel’s body. At that, your face softens and your gaze sweeps over Miguel’s torso, easily spotting those old scars. The itch to trace them suddenly overwhelms you, a need to physically feel them to assure yourself they’re truly only scars and no longer wounds in need of attention.

Of course, you don’t; doing so would be far too intimate and would disrespect Miguel’s boundaries. Internally, you tell yourself to focus as you begin to softly apply the ointment to Miguel’s scratch. You focus on that for a moment before your gaze strays away for a few seconds, despite yourself, to Miguel’s physique, noting and remembering details of Miguel’s body; his tan skin, the scars that were once wounds tended by you, the scars that were already there before, the multiple lines defining muscles from years of physical activity, and the soft trail of hair leading down to Miguel's —

You swallow and look away, scolding yourself for noticing silly things. Instead, you focus on how the ointment melts into Miguel's warm skin as you apply it, his warmth seeping into your own.

“Looks good. It should heal quickly,” you say, clearing your throat and reluctantly removing your hand from Miguel.

Miguel glances at you as you begin to place everything you used back in the kit. “I'm sure it'll be good by tomorrow morning. Thank you, I appreciate it, Dulzura,” he says, offering you a warm smile.

“Always,” you answer looking up at him again, reciprocating the smile. Standing up, you turn to the bed, the sight of it reminding you that Miguel can't sleep here now.

At the same time, Miguel looks at it. He stands up and approaches the bed, pulling the comforter off before he grabs a pillow. “I need to set up the couch,” he states, pulling a blanket, too.

“The couch?” Your eyebrows raise as you think about the couch and how uncomfortable it is already compared to a bed. You imagine it'd be triple the discomfort for Miguel due to his build. “That's not gonna be comfortable for you,” you say. “Have my room instead. I'll take the couch.”

“Wha— No, no, no. That's kind of you, but no way.” Miguel shakes his head, speaking firmly while holding the bedding in his arms. “I'm not letting you sleep on the couch.”

“I'll be fine. It'll be far more comfortable for me than you,” you argue.

“Dulzura, thank you, but no. I'm not taking the bed and letting you sleep on the couch. I'm a gentleman,” Miguel softly, but firmly continues to decline.

“But—” you start, trying to convince Miguel.

“Please, no buts. You sleep on the bed. I wouldn't even be able to sleep knowing you're in the living room.”

“I've slept in the living room at the penthouse before. Many times.”

“This is different, you know that,” he replies with a small smirk. “I appreciate you trying to accommodate me, but there's no way I'm doing that.”

Huffing, you follow Miguel to the living room and watch as he begins to set up his pillow. You suddenly think of something, but you're not sure Miguel will be comfortable with that idea. He might even find it inappropriate. With a sigh, you dare voice your idea. “What if — Um…” You trail off, building up the courage. “If you're comfortable with it, would you be okay with just, you know,” you continue, shrugging to downplay the offer. “We could share,” you finally say, quickly.

Miguel’s eyes widen slightly and you almost swear he clutches the blanket a little tighter. “Share… Share what?”

“You know,” you reply, gesturing to your room. “I wouldn’t mind. I’m comfortable with you because you know, you’re… You’re a gentleman,” you say, softly. “And I trust you, one hundred percent. Wholeheartedly.” Clearing your throat, you look away, afraid you’ve pushed too far with your offer, even if it’s out of kindness. “But, well… I know maybe you’re not at that level of comfort with me, which is understandable,” you quickly say, not trying to guilt Miguel into it. “Whether it’s because we — you know. Us being a man and a woman. Not that I think a man and a woman can’t lay tog—” you stop rambling and sigh. “You know what I’m trying to say. Or, because we would be, closer and we might touch, so…” you trail off again, realizing you probably look like a fool in front of Miguel with your rambling. Maybe you should’ve just kept the idea to yourself. “I understand if you don’t want to, that’s what I’m trying to say, however, if you wish to, that’s an option. It’s up to you.” You gently conclude, deciding that’s the best way to explain it. “I’ll be in the room, if you need something, or if you — You know.” You nod at Miguel. “So, yeah… Good night.”

“Thank you. Good night,” Miguel answers softly, feeling like a deer caught in headlights due to your offer to share the bed.

You walk back to your room and stand next to your bed for a few seconds, almost in a daze. For some reason, you discover that your heart is racing. You finally climb back into bed after shaking your head as an attempt to clear your mind and based on the silence that follows, you assume that Miguel has decided to sleep on the couch after all. Turning on your side, you pull the covers higher over you, preparing to go to sleep after Miguel’s bed breaking. Several minutes later, you hear Miguel’s footsteps.

“You awake?” Miguel whispers.

“Mhm. Still awake. Is everything okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, I just…” Miguel trails off. He’s not sure if you can make out his figure in the mostly dark bedroom, but he looks around shyly. “It turns out, I don’t fit on the couch.”

“Oh,” you softly respond. “Your legs?”

“Yeah, they’re hanging off the couch, so… I was wondering…”

Smiling softly, you turn on the lamp on the nightstand closest to you. You find Miguel standing near the doorway, still shirtless. “I can imagine. Do you want to bring your pillow, or are these okay?” you ask, gesturing to the free pillows on the other side of your bed, unused.

Miguel’s body relaxes, as if he was worried that your kind offer was no longer on the table. “Those should be fine, thank you.”

You nod. “Alright, then… If you need nothing else, you can — You know.”

“Right,” Miguel answers shyly, his cheeks feeling hot as he moves around the bed to the other side. With his long strides, it doesn’t take Miguel long to reach the empty side of the bed. He looks at it and then at you, noticing an equally shy expression on your face.

Noting the shyness in Miguel, you offer a warm and reassuring smile to encourage him, which seems to do the trick.

Gently pulling the covers on his side of the bed, Miguel climbs in, careful not to disturb you too much. He lays on his back before pulling the covers up again. Once settled, he turns to face you, giving you a small smile. “Thank you, and I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience. Please… Don’t hesitate to tell me if I make you uncomfortable,” Miguel gently says. “I'll get off the bed, no questions asked.”

You chuckle softly. “You’re forgetting I’m the one that offered and also what I told you. I trust you,” you murmur.

“I trust you, too,” Miguel whispers. “I just… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in the aspect that you mentioned earlier.” He looks away for a few seconds. “In that you’re a woman and I’m a man, but also because you’re like me,” he says, turning to look back at you with a sheepish smile. “We’re not used to sharing a bed. I don’t want to disturb your sleep and rest because you don’t have the bed all to yourself.”

“I’ll be perfectly fine,” you answer with amusement. “But, I appreciate your concern for my beauty sleep.”

“Not that you need it,” Miguel answers without thinking, still wearing that sheepish smile.

You hum, your cheeks feeling warm suddenly. “Oh, thank you,” you whisper, looking away.

Of course, Miguel notices your shy reaction to his words, inspiring a blooming warmth and fuzzy feeling in his chest. “Always,” Miguel whispers, still grinning.

You clear your throat and pull the covers slightly higher to hide your face. “Good night, Migs,” you whisper, turning off the nightstand lamp.

“Buenas noches, Dulzura [good night],” Miguel murmurs, still watching you. “Dulces sueños [sweet dreams].” Miguel turns away and closes his eyes, laying next to you.

Trying to fall asleep, thoughts of your current position comes to mind for the two of you. Is this strange? You’ve both laid next to each other before, even shared a blanket and pillows, but that was different. All those times, it’s been on the living room floor, not a bed, and for some reason, the bed makes it more… Intimate.

It's not strange, right? Best friends have sleepovers and share a bed all the time.

Rolling to your other side, facing away from Miguel, you decide it’s normal. It’s totally normal… Except, the last time you shared a bed was with Peter, your Peter, and that was years ago. The thing is, you don’t find it uncomfortable, even if he’s a man and you’re a woman. Instead, you find Miguel’s presence next to you new, yet insanely pleasant. His body warmth seems to call to you, to move closer and take a dip in it. You close your eyes and try to ignore it, certain that you’re simply immensely exhausted from the fun day you both had and now having strange thoughts.

Next to you, Miguel opens his eyes and stares into the darkness. There’s some distance between you two and yet, the combination of your personal hygiene items and your very own scent embrace him, like a blanket of constellations welcoming him home. He suddenly remembers that he left your sweatshirt in the bedroom and realizes that if he had stayed in the living room, he would’ve already gone back to retrieve it, but being here with you now, within hand’s reach, he has no need for it since he's next to you, his sleep remedy.

Minutes later, Miguel hears your breathing slow down, signaling your slumber and promising his to come. Focusing on the gentle sound, Miguel rolls on his side, facing your back. Despite the darkness, he can make out your figure, so close, yet with a respectful distance still in place. Once more, Miguel’s fingers flex; close, open, close, open. They itch, to reach and touch.

Miguel slightly shakes his head, ignoring the strange need. He closes his eyes and focuses on your breathing again, finding it easy to find sleep, as always, with you near him.

-♡-

When Miguel wakes up, he’s immediately aware of a pleasant presence next to him. It’s soft, warm, and their scent — Miguel wants nothing more than to bury his face into them and further inhale that lovely essence. Still half asleep and with his eyes closed, Miguel moves closer to the presence, allowing himself to be lulled in this moment of vulnerability.

“Mmm,” Miguel hums in appreciation once the scent is closer, once the warmth feels like it’s become his own. His arm tightens around said presence; wanting it closer, closer, closer.

His eyes slowly open, needing a moment to adjust to the bits of light streaming through the windows’ blinds. With his brain barely waking up, it takes Miguel several seconds to realize: his arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

As the realization dawns on him, Miguel’s arm remains around you, even when his mouth slightly parts in surprise at his own actions. Despite the shock, Miguel doesn’t remove his arm right away. He leaves it there instead and gazes at you, at your sleepy face.

Miguel drinks in the sight of you, one that’s not entirely new to him for he’s had the absolute pleasure and privilege of witnessing so many times before. Still, for some reason, in this moment in this little cabin in the middle of a forest with snow all around, the sight feels different. There’s your eyelashes and the way they brush against the top of your cheeks, your lips, the peaceful and almost innocent-like look on your face, and how utterly and unquestionably endearing, lovely, and beautiful you look.

Miguel continues to observe you, almost in a trance, even as you stir. He watches you exhale softly, snuggling further into the pillows before going still again.

It’s then that it dawns on Miguel that he ought to remove his arm from you. It’s not appropriate, is it? He’s a gentleman. He was raised to be one, and so, Miguel reluctantly removes his arm from you, instantly missing everything about it from the softness to the warmth of your body.

As if sensing the absence of his touch, you stir again and this time, Miguel can tell you’ll be waking up. You hum softly, eyes fluttering before they focus on the man next to you. “Miguel,” you murmur sleepily. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Dulzura,” Miguel murmurs. “Did you sleep well?” He asks, wondering if he disturbed your sleep at some point during the night.

“Mmm, yes. I did,” you answer, covering your mouth to yawn. “I slept very well.”

“That’s a relief,” Miguel says. “I was worried I… I don’t know. Kicked you in my sleep, or something.”

That makes you snort softly. “If you had, I wouldn’t be in bed right now. Probably.”

“Not funny,” Miguel responds in a slightly playful way, yet he’s not amused with the idea of you being hurt, especially by him.

“There was no kicking, or anything,” you assure him.

Except Miguel did have his arm around you when he woke up, but you’re not aware of that innocent fact.

Remembering that, Miguel clears his throat. “… I need to tell you something,” he says, sitting up to give you space.

“Oh… Is something wrong?” you ask, worried you possibly did something to offend him during your sleep. Your brain quickly goes through the worst scenarios, like you getting too close to him, or saying something inappropriate.

“Not exactly? It’s something I did,” Miguel continues, watching you sit up as well. “I just want to be honest.”

You nod, clasping your hands together and waiting.

“I didn’t kick you,” Miguel starts. “But… When I woke up, I had my arm — around you — around your waist,” Miguel confesses, his cheeks red. He curls his fingers around the bedding, waiting for your reaction and finding surprise, but no negative emotion.

“It was?” you ask softly, thinking. Somewhere during the night, you vividly remember feeling the weight of it, yet you were more asleep than anything. “I felt it during the night.” You announce quietly, trying to recall the short blurry memory.

Miguel’s eyebrows shoot up. That means he held you for far longer than he thought. “I’m sorry,” Miguel states a few seconds after recovering from the news. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t know what got to me.”

Smiling, you shake your head. “You don’t have to apologize. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Really. In fact,” you pause, looking away out of embarrassment and a bit of shame. “I may have… Touched your arm, too.”

“I don’t mind,” Miguel quickly admits because he recognizes your emotions and he doesn’t want you to feel like that. Besides, the truth is that he doesn't mind one bit that you touched him. In fact, he hasn’t minded your touch on previous occasions when physical contact has been needed or has happened out of spontaneity. “It's the truth. And it's only expected.” Miguel continues, reassuring you so you stop feeling negatively when it was him who clearly initiated physical contact during his sleep. “I did have my arm around you, so, it's only expected you would touch it. And there's no reason to be… Embarrassed about it,” he gently adds, giving you a warm and soft smile when you look at him again.

You smile back and nod, slowly feeling less embarrassed about it. “I’m glad you don’t feel upset,” you reply, unclasping your hands.

“Not in the slightest,” Miguel answers reassuringly. “And you…?” Miguel asks, just to be certain.

“No, not at all,” you reply. “Not at all.” You glance at the windows, noticing the sun’s rays. “We should get ready for the day. We’re looking after Mayday today.”

“Right,” Miguel answers, remembering. “I almost forgot.” He sighs softly, feeling good about being honest with you regarding what happened and relieved that you both handled it so well. With the day ahead of you two, Miguel decides to move on from the moment for now and start the day by leaning back to stretch.

Next to him, your gaze moves over to Miguel, landing on his chest before it dips to his abdomen. It’s impossible not to notice the way his body moves, or how the sunlight caresses his bare skin. You look away, remembering it’s incredibly rude to stare, just as Miguel climbs out of bed. You find yourself staring again as he stretches once more, his back popping and back muscles rippling.

Again, you look away and finally get out of bed to start the day. The two of you quickly make the bed before you head into your respective bathrooms to get ready.

An hour later, both Miguel and you find yourselves in Mary Jane and Peter’s home.

“We seriously cannot thank you enough,” Peter B. says as he carefully hands Mayday’s backpack to Miguel since you’re already holding his daughter’s hand. “Mary Jane and I appreciate it so much.” He says, exhaustion visible on his face.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Miguel asks, voicing your own thoughts.

“No, no. We’re good, thank you. You offering to take Mayday with you for the day, having her have a day out means so much to us. Mary Jane and I have hardly left the house, which means so has little Mayday,” Peter answers. “Mary Jane is still recovering and with it being cold, we don’t want to take Benjamin out either. I’ve gone out to get groceries and the such to distract Mayday a little, but that’s nothing compared to our routine from before. Today will make her so happy.”

You offer him a smile, gently patting his shoulder. “We’re happy to help, and if you need something else, please don’t hesitate to let us know.”

“Thank you,” Peter answers, smiling despite his exhaustion. “Thank you so much. If you guys need anything or have questions, or need to bring Mayday back earlier, please don’t hesitate either. We’ll understand.”

“We’ll return at the agreed time, don’t worry. She’s safe with us. You guys do what you need to do with little Benjamin, and take care of Mary Jane. If she needs medical attention or support, the infirmary is always open,” Miguel states, reminding Peter of that resource.

“Thank you, thank you,” Peter sighs. “It means a lot. We’ll keep it in mind, if necessary.”

“Say bye to your dad, Mayday! You’ll be back in a few hours,” you say, still holding Mayday.

“Bye, daddy!” Mayday eagerly says, waving bye.

“Bye, sweetheart. I’ll see you in a little bit,” Peter says with a smile, walking closer to gently pinch her cheek. “Be a good girl for uncle Miggle and aunt Y/N,” he adds, earning himself a scoff from Miguel at the silly nickname Mayday gave him some time ago.

“Alright, we’re heading out,” Miguel says. “Rest as much as you can, Peter.”

“Thanks, pal. I’ll try. Have fun, guys. Be safe, please!” Peter says, watching you leave with his daughter for the day.

Back to your vacation spot, the three of you step out of the portal and into the cold. You immediately feel Mayday shiver at the change of temperature, so you hold her closer and adjust her puffy jacket to keep her warm. “Gotta keep you warm,” you murmur as you move on to fix her beanie.

“It might be too cold for her,” Miguel says, slinging the backpack on one of his shoulders and stepping closer to help.

“She did shiver just now, so I’m adjusting her clothes to make sure she’s as warm as possible, right, Mayday?” you murmur softly, unable to stop yourself from being so affectionate with her. “Alright, all warm for now.”

“First activity for the day?” Miguel asks to confirm, still carrying the backpack.

“We have Mayday, so, yes,” you reply with a chuckle. “Let’s just hope she likes what we’ve planned for her today.”

Miguel laughs softly as you both begin to walk over the snow. “I’m sure we can figure something out if the day’s activities are not to her taste.”

With another chuckle, you both continue to walk to your destination. All the while, Mayday looks around with excitement, even though it’s just a bunch of snow and trees all around for several minutes until the three of you reach the small and cute village. The three of you look around for a moment to take in the village, realizing it’s one of those villages that goes over the top with Christmas decorations everywhere.

“It’s cute,” you state as you near your destination by following signs.

“Mhm, it reminds me of those movies my mom used to watch when Gabriel and I were kids,” Miguel answers. “Some of which are so… Predictable, but still fun to watch. I guess.”

You snort softly. “What? You don’t like those movies?”

Miguel shrugs as you both keep walking. He looks over at you and then at Mayday, who is too busy looking at everything to pay either of you attention. He can’t blame her, though, he supposes this is like a kid’s dream. For a few seconds, he thinks of his little Gabby and how she would’ve loved today’s activities. With an exhale, Miguel gently pulls himself back to the present after silently sending his child an ‘I love you’. “I just think… Some of them are both predictable and problematic, so I can’t watch them without thinking about that.”

“Do go on,” you press. “Please?”

Miguel smiles. “Well, when I say that, I’m talking about those movies where there’s a successful character in the city. Typically, it’s a woman. She has a partner and it all seems to be going well in her life. For example, she has a big work promotion coming up because she’s been killing it in her career through hard work and she has all these nice things, like a luxurious car and apartment, but then, she goes back to where she came from for whatever reason. Some far away place from the city that she left a few years ago and hasn’t visited in x number of years because she’s been busy, and this is sometimes right after discovering that her boyfriend has been cheating on her,” Miguel says, definitely getting into it.

Now, with her not visiting her parents… I’d be hurt if my kid hadn’t visited in so long, but then again, the parents could also travel to her.” Miguel continues with furrowed eyebrows. “Actually, I had never thought about that. Everybody always judges the person who went away, but the parents could also visit… Hm. Well, anyway.” Miguel shakes his head, trying to focus and not ramble. “She goes back to some small town where it looks like Santa Claus threw up all over the place. Like… Here. Anyway, she gets judged left and right by people that knew her growing up. You know, giving her backhanded compliments. Like, ‘oh, I hear you’re getting a promotion, but your boyfriend just cheated on you, so how successful are you really, then?’ They have that kind of attitude.”

You nod, paying attention and trying not to grin too hard at how passionate Miguel seems about this topic.

“And it’s like, wait, what does that have to do with her romantic life? It’s like they’re saying her boyfriend cheated on her because she’s ‘too’ successful. It’s so annoying. What message is it sending to women and young girls? Not a good one, for sure,” Miguel says shaking his head in disapproval. “Well, she’s there in town and then,” Miguel says with an exasperated sigh. “She runs into her previous boyfriend, probably high school sweetheart, who she loved so much, but when she brought up the idea of moving to the city years prior, he didn’t support it because he’s a small town man. He imagined spending his entire life in that place, which is fine, but the female protagonist didn’t want that life. She wanted something different, so they ended up breaking up because of the woman’s decision to pursue their dreams.”

“As they should,” you add.

“Exactly. As they should,” Miguel affirms. “But then, they run into each other in the present and it’s painfully awkward because they haven’t seen each other since the breakup and old wounds are open. Despite the woman trying to keep her distance, fate, or perhaps due to the townspeople who meddle too much, she can’t seem to escape the man and they’re stuck in this forced proximity for half the movie, and you can tell the guy is still upset over the girl’s decision. Anyway, it ends with the woman apparently ‘realizing’ she’s not happy in the city, never has been. And she decides, just from spending like three days in her old town, that she wants to move back and take on the family business she didn’t initially want to be a part of, and resigning from her job. Oh, and she ends up with the old boyfriend. The end,” Miguel finishes. “It’s repeated so much. How about we make the man realize he’s not happy in his town like he thought he would, and is the one who leaves to go live in the city with his successful partner? I’d like to see that instead.”

“You know… You’re right. I don’t think I’ve watched a movie like that, now that you mention it. There should be one like that,” you answer.

“That’s why I don’t like those especially. The other ones, they’re good,” Miguel says with a chuckle. “Oh, look. We’re here.” Miguel gestures ahead, directing your attention.

You grin at the sight and point for Mayday to look. “Look, Mayday! Over there.”

Expectantly, Miguel and you wait for Mayday’s reaction to the first activity of the day: petting and feeding reindeer. Thankfully, her reaction doesn’t disappoint.

“Reindeer! Santa Claus’s sleigh,” she says grinning from ear to ear.

“Yes, mija [my daughter]. Those are Santa Claus’s reindeer,” Miguel replies with a small smile. “Want to pet them?”

“Yes! Can I pet the reindeer? Please?”

“You may, but you must be gentle, okay?” Miguel answers, establishing that boundary immediately for both her safety and the animals’.

You watch in awe, always surprised to see Miguel fall into that fatherly energy so effortlessly, further convincing you that Miguel was meant to be a father in this life.

“Come on,” Miguel says, smiling.

After paying and listening to the instructions, the three of you are in front of reindeer with other people. A worker provides information about them, from how fast they can run and how they differentiate from other deer species along with other interesting information.

With glee, Mayday watches everything from some of the reindeer peacefully eating to others walking, but her favorite part seems to be when she has the opportunity to pet and give snacks to one.

“It’s so fluffy,” she says, gently petting the animal’s head. “Like a dog.”

Miguel and you turn to look at each other, smiling.

“And so cute,” you state, carefully petting the gorgeous reindeer.

“Fluffy and cute,” Miguel murmurs, petting it himself after a few seconds of debating it. He gently pats it with a sigh, once again thinking about Gabby and how she would’ve enjoyed this. Knowing her, Gabby would’ve asked for a book about reindeer to learn more about them afterwards.

“Aww,” you coo softly when you see the reindeer close their eyes and nudge their head into Miguel’s hand, apparently enjoying the petting. “Seems like they like you. Probably because of your warmth.”

“My warmth?” Miguel questions, looking over at you.

“Yeah,” you answer with a shrug as you gently pet the side of the reindeer’s face. “You’re naturally warm. I’m sure they find your warmth… Nice.” Nice? You almost facepalm and wonder why you’re even thinking about Miguel’s body warmth. Feeling embarrassed, you change the subject and gesture to a calf. “Look, a baby reindeer,” you say, successfully shifting the attention, though Miguel glances at you even after the fact.

After another half an hour, the three of you leave with Mayday, who happily carries a reindeer plushie that Miguel bought her on the way out. Together, you walk around the village to see all the decorations and the more you walk, the more it feels like you’re all in a Christmas movie set.

“We’re only missing the love interests,” you joke when Miguel mentions that, too.

“And the meddling friend group who must be running around here somewhere,” Miguel answers with a chuckle. “How about some brunch?” Miguel asks when the scent of food from a diner reaches you.

“Actually… I could eat something right now. What about you, Mayday? Are you hungry?”

“Yes, I’m hungry. Can I have waffles?”

Miguel and you laugh quietly at the innocent question.

“We’ll see if they sell some in there, alright? I’m sure they do,” you assure Mayday, taking her hand again to head inside.

Warmth and the delicious scent of diner food immediately welcomes the three of you when you step inside. Looking around for an empty booth, Miguel and you spot a few spider people neither of you were expecting to see here, in this exact universe and location.

“I didn't know other people were coming,” you say once the three of you are sitting at the booth, including Mayday’s plushie by Miguel's side.

“I didn't either,” Miguel answers, glancing at the group and quickly identifying them.

At the same time, Ben Reilly, Malala Windsor, Max Borne, Anya Corazón, and another member you only know as Spider-Canada, turn to look at the three of you.

Making eye contact with them, Miguel and you nod as a form of greeting, receiving nods and hand waves, before looking over the menu and ordering. Thankfully for Mayday, the diner sells waffles, so Miguel orders her some along with a cup of milk.

Once you're all done eating, you take Mayday to the restroom again to wash her hands, only to run into Ben when you walk out.

“Y/N,” Ben starts, looking surprised to have run into you. “How are you doing?” he asks, offering a smile.

“Hey, I'm doing great. We've been enjoying walking around the village. You?” You ask, holding Mayday’s hand, who looks up at Ben with curious eyes.

“Good. I'm doing good. We've also been sightseeing.” Ben answers while scratching his neck, pink dusting his cheeks as he stares at you before turning to look at the kid. He offers an awkward smile to Mayday before looking back at you. “You and Miguel babysitting for Peter?”

“Yes. We offered since Mary Jane and Peter just had — Their baby,” you reply, remembering that their newborn is named Benjamin, just like Ben. You suddenly wonder how Ben feels about that and the fact that Peter looks so similar to him. “So, Miguel and I figured that we could look after Mayday for the day, and give her a fun day here.”

“That’s kind of you and Miguel. I’m sure Peter and his wife appreciate the gesture, and the little kid, too,” Ben states. “Where are you guys staying?”

“We’re staying in a cabin. It’s a few minutes from the village by foot,” you answer. “All my friends rented cabins there, too, so we’re all within walking distance.”

“Oh, you’re not all staying in the same cabin?”

“No, we’re staying in different cabins. Miguel and I are staying in one, and the rest of my friends are in two others.”

“Oh, you and Miguel are in one,” Ben repeats slowly, briefly glancing in Miguel’s direction, who is looking the other way, before turning to look back at you. “Well… I hope that you’re enjoying the cabin.”

“We are, thank you. It’s so cozy. Where are you and your friends staying at?”

“The inn. It’s just down the street,” Ben explains. “It’s a nice place. Cozy.”

You smile, “I can imagine. This place seems so magical. I’m certain that every building and crevice of this village is cozy and welcoming.”

“Uncle Miggle,” Mayday says next to you. “He’s waiting on us. Can we go?”

“We’re going, Mayday,” you answer before turning your attention to Ben. “Well, we’ll see you around, Ben. I hope you and your friends continue to enjoy the holiday trip.”

“Thank you, Y/N. You, too,” Ben replies, smiling again. “See you at work after Christmas!”

“See you!” You reply before Mayday and you both walk past Ben to return to Miguel. “We’re back,” you say once you reach Miguel.

“You guys ready to go?” Miguel asks.

“Yes. Let’s go ahead and pay.”

“I’ve already paid, don’t worry about it, Dulzura,” Miguel answers with a small grin, standing up. He quickly puts on his coat and helps Mayday with hers while you slip on your own.

In no time, the three of you exit the diner only for you to realize that Mayday isn’t wearing her beanie. “Wait, her beanie is missing. It must have fallen off the booth.”

“I’ll go get it,” Miguel states, but you shake your head.

“It’s alright. I’ll go get it. Be right back,” you announce, turning on your heel and walking back the short distance to the diner. Inside, you quickly return to your booth and find the beanie hanging from one side, where Mayday was sitting. You pick it up and head back, running into Ben right at the door while his friends are off to the side, looking at a wall with decorations.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes, I’m alright. Are you okay?” Ben asks, looking you up and down, as if to ensure you’re okay.

“Yep, I’m okay. Sorry, I guess I was moving too fast, I didn’t see you there,” you answer with a chuckle as Ben opens the door for you, allowing you to exit first. As you step out, you hear him chuckle, too.

“It’s alright. It happens sometimes,” he says behind you before he finds himself next to you with a small grin, right in front of the diner’s door. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, no worries,” you answer, reassuringly. “It was more the surprise of running into someone.”

It’s Ben’s chuckling that captures Miguel’s attention while he holds Mayday’s hand for her safety. He turns around when he hears it, finding you next to Ben. For some reason, he’s unable to look away from the interaction, making it the sole reason why Miguel even notices Ben looking up for a single second. Curious, Miguel’s gaze travels upwards, only to find a mistletoe hanging over the diner’s doorway, right above the two of you.

Miguel’s eyes quickly dart back to Ben, who is looking at you once more, and sees an idea form in his head — a light bulb go on.

An idea has formed in Ben’s head and it leaves Miguel frozen in place for a second, just a mere second. His chest fills with a heavy and distressing feeling, spreading like vines. Somewhere in his mind, Miguel is aware that he’s holding his breath, as if he’s bracing himself for something heart-shattering.

The heavy and distressing feeling continues to grow within Miguel, much like the idea in Ben’s head. Miguel’s suspicions are confirmed, or at least he thinks so, when he sees the other Spider-Man reach for your arm.

It’s instinct — pure instinct from somewhere within Miguel — that leads to his free hand shooting out. In the blink of an eye, a string of neon red web travels from him to you, and wraps itself around your torso. Still led by instinct, Miguel tugs you towards him and away from Ben, who was just milliseconds from touching your arm.

One second, you’re next to Ben and the next, you’re flying across the short distance and in front of Miguel, who carefully catches you by your arms, holding you steady.

“Miguel,” you breathe out, shocked. “What happened?”

“I —” Miguel starts, desperately trying to think of a reason for his actions when he can’t even begin to decipher why he’s done what he did. He stares at you, his eyebrows furrowed and chest heaving while he continues to gently hold you by your arms. Miguel searches his brain for an answer. Why did he do that? Why? “I — I can explain,” Miguel says, even though he has no explanation.

“Icicles!” Mayday exclaims next to the two of you.

Miguel looks up, finding icicles over the doorway you were just under, which he hadn’t noticed before.

“Icicles,” Miguel repeats, clearing his throat as he looks back at you, still holding you by your arms. “It looked like one was about to break off and fall on you.”

You look behind you with wide eyes, confirming that there are icicles. “I didn’t notice them,” you confess. “Thank you. Hey, Ben! Watch out for the icicles!” you call out to Ben, who for some reason, looks displeased. Maybe it’s the cold, or the news of icicles, you think to yourself.

“Thanks for the warning!” he calls back, looking at Miguel for a few seconds with that same look of displeasure. He waves bye before he’s joined by his friends.

Miguel sighs, slowly releasing your arms and stepping back. The sinking and heavy feeling in his chest slowly dissipates, and seeing Ben walk away from the diner with his friends, heading in the opposite direction of where you all should be heading next, helps even more.

“Whew, thank goodness you noticed. We should probably tell the owners about it,” you say, looking back at the diner, completely unaware of what just transpired.

“Yeah,” Miguel answers, feeling like he can breath normally again with the distance between Reilly and you growing. “I’ll go tell them. You stay here with Mayday. I’ll be right back, okay?” Miguel says, not wanting you or Mayday to walk past the icicles again.

“Alright, just be careful, please,” you answer softly, a hint of worry on your face.

“I will, don’t worry. I’ll be right back,” Miguel responds before he heads back to the diner to notify someone about the icicles situation. Still feeling off by what just happened, Miguel shortly returns to you and Mayday. “I told one of the workers, so that should take care of it,” Miguel announces. “Should we head back to the cabin, or would you like to go somewhere else?”

“I think with what almost happened, I’d like to go back to the cabin,” you truthfully answer with a small smile. “Besides, we have some fun activities to do with Mayday there.”

“True,” Miguel answers. “Let’s head back, then.” Miguel sighs to himself as you all begin to walk, trying to figure out the mess in his head, but he can’t make anything out of it.

He did a good thing, right?

Miguel subtly glances at you as he asks himself that. What he did was a good thing, or at least Miguel thinks so. Ben was going to try and kiss you because of the mistletoe tradition. There’s no doubt about that in Miguel’s mind; it was obvious and he could smell it from a mile away. And you… Miguel steals a glance at you again just as you tell Mayday something.

You were so oblivious to it, to Ben’s intentions. Miguel doesn’t know how Ben was going to do it. Was he going to tell you about the mistletoe and hint for a kiss, or hope that you offered one instead? Or, was he going to steal a kiss from you without your consent? The simple idea of Ben kissing you without your consent, especially when you don’t carry yourself like that, upsets Miguel. Just yesterday, you were talking about respecting everyone when it comes to the tradition and today, Ben was likely going to disrespect you and your boundaries.

Miguel huffs to himself as you near your cabin, deciding that his actions are justified. He prevented someone from disrespecting you, even if it was only going to be a harmless kiss because of some Christmas tradition. Or at least, that’s what Miguel tells himself.

As the cabin comes into view, Miguel continues to think about the situation and begins to wonder if Ben’s intentions were truly harmless. Didn’t you say months ago that Ben wanted to tell you something, only for it to be about an anomaly report when Ben knows how to make them? That was strange to Miguel back then, how Reilly had only sought your help for something as basic as a report.

And wasn’t there that time at the training sector when Ben only greeted you and completely ignored him despite walking next to you? It was as if Miguel, a man nearly seven feet tall, wasn’t even there. Then, that same day at the training sector, he seemed to be doing a little too much in Miguel’s opinion. It almost seemed like Reilly was trying to impress someone, but doing a horrible job at it — not that Miguel would know any better, but still.

Miguel’s thoughts abruptly halt when he notices you duck before a snowball flies by. He immediately forgets about Ben and turns to find the culprit for the snowball, realizing you sensed it coming.

“Are you okay, Dulzura?” he asks, turning to face you again when he finds no one, a gentle look on his face just for you.

“I’m alright,” you answer, turning around. “I think someone’s playing a trick on us.”

“I think so, too,” Miguel answers, looking at the ground because he has an idea. He crouches and grabs snow before he molds it into a snowball with his gloved hands. “I think I know who threw that one.”

“Right there,” you murmur, noticing footprints coming from an invisible source on the snow. “On your right,” you whisper before another snowball flies your way. You’re quick to dodge it and Miguel is even quicker in throwing his own snowball. It hits something, or rather someone, and when it makes impact, it reveals none other than Miles.

“Attack!” he says, crouching to form snowballs and inciting the rest of the spider gang to come out from behind trees.

Seeing multiple snowballs coming your way, you quickly grab Mayday, who of course, finds the situation hilarious.

“Snow attack!” she yells, still carrying her reindeer.

“I need you to hold on to me, Mayday, okay?” you instruct with a grin. “We’re being attacked.”

“Are we going to win?” she asks as Miguel walks past you, preventing a snowball from hitting you and Mayday and throwing four back in retaliation.

“That’s the plan,” you answer. “Miguel, you, and I must work as a team.”

“And Binx!” she answers, showing you her reindeer.

“And Binx,” you add, wondering at what point did Mayday name the reindeer as you dodge another snowball from Hobie. You quickly collect snow and shape it into balls, launching one after another to different people.

Snowballs fly across the plot of land, some bigger and faster than others. Laughter and comments about winning and defeating fill the air. The snowball fight goes on for some time until Hobie, Gwen, and Pav begin to target you specifically. You run around, swinging from trees to dodge their relentless attack, which only stops when Miguel begins to target them back with much larger and stronger throws, knocking them down.

You laugh to yourself and swing back to Miguel, helping him form more snowballs to defeat the group. It finally concludes with Spider-Ham waving a white flag for surrender.

“Victory!” Mayday exclaims, but not before throwing one last snowball at Spider-Ham’s face.

“Alright, we give up!” Miles states, standing up and brushing off snow from his jacket. “I told you guys not to target Y/N too much,” he continues, looking at the group. “I knew el tío was going to go full on protective mode [the uncle].”

“I think you mean he was going to defend his team,” you clarify, or at least think so, with a small smile as you walk past him. “And I so happened to be in his team.”

“I don’t think I can handle this anymore,” you hear Pav say behind you. “This is like reading a nearly 400K torturous slow burn fanfic on Our Own Archive with the ‘idiots in love’ tag.”

“That’s what it’s called in your universe?” Margo asks. “But, so true.”

“Ooh, can we build a snowman? Please, please?” Mayday asks, tugging your arm and looking up at you with such puppy eyes you forget to ask Pav why he brought up fanfiction.

You glance at Miguel, who shrugs, as if saying ‘why not?’

“Why don’t we build it in front of the cabin?” you suggest.

“Yippie, okay!” With that, Mayday runs ahead of you and picks a spot to begin rolling snow.

“It’s been a hot minute since I’ve built a snowman,” you comment as you both watch Mayday kneel on the ground with her reindeer next to her whilst telling it how to make a snowman.

“Yeah, it’s a been… Years for me, too. I think since I was like fifteen, or so, with Gabriel,” Miguel replies with a fond smile. “Come on. Mayday is going to teach us how to build a snowman, along with her reindeer.”

“Binx,” you say.

“When did they get a name?” Miguel asks. “I missed that development.”

“Somewhere after the reindeer place and before the snowball fight,” you reply with an amused smile. “I found out about it just before the action started.”

“I see. Kids,” Miguel answers with a smile. He turns around to look at the others. “Should we invite them for the baking?”

“I was thinking about that. Maybe some of them will be up for it, if they don’t have plans already. It’s worth asking.”

“Uncle Miggle, aunt Dulz,” Mayday calls.

“Dulz…?” you repeat.

“She’s trying to call you Dulzura,” Miguel states with a smile. “Seems like you have your very own nickname from her, too, hm?” he teases.

“Nothing beats Miggle, though,” you tease back, making Miguel chuckle.

“It’s a noble nickname,” Miguel answers before you reach Mayday. “What is it, mija [my daughter]?”

“I need help,” Mayday replies. “We need big, big snowman.”

Together, Miguel and you help Mayday build a big snowman while your friends build their own things.

“We need another one!” Mayday declares when you've completed the first snowman. “Short!”

“Like you?” You ask, trying to figure out how short.

“No, like you!” Mayday replies with a giggle as she begins to collect snow. And so, a second snowman is built before Mayday requests an even shorter snowman. Of course, Miguel and you oblige.

“Yay!” Mayday happily hugs the tallest snowman. “Uncle Miggle!” She then moves to the second tallest snowman. “Aunt Dulz!”

“Oh, that's supposed to be me” you say amused as Mayday hugs your snowwoman. “Is this you?” you ask, gesturing to the shortest snow person.

“Nope. It's my friend.”

“Your friend? Oh, what's their name?” Miguel asks, equally curious like you.

“Gabby!” Mayday answers with glee.

“Oh,” Miguel softly responds, his chest tightening at the mention of Gabriella by Mayday. It's the first time she’s ever said anything about Gabby and to be honest, Miguel didn't expect her to until much later. He expected that she'd eventually ask who the little girl in the picture frames at the penthouse is on a random day while you both babysat her, not on this winter getaway.

“Miguel,” you murmur softly, gaze softening at the mention of Gabby. “Are you okay?”

“Ye-Yes.” Miguel nods, trying to recover.

“She likes the snow!” Mayday announces before running to pick up more snow with Binx.

“She did,” Miguel breathes out. “She liked the snow. How did she know?”

“Kids…” You trail off, not knowing how Mayday knew of that fact. “They're far more sensitive than we are, and far more aware than we give them credit for.”

Nodding, Miguel watches Mayday continue to play in the snow with the others. After a minute or two, he tries to push the thought away for the remainder of the time in an attempt to enjoy himself and keep the mood light. He watches with a smile as the group has fun and eventually joins you in making snow angels just outside your shared cabin.

Gabby comes to mind yet again, however, when you’re all in the cabin’s kitchen baking cookies. Miguel was concentrated on the task at hand, but when he gazes at you and notes how patient and tender you’re being with Mayday as you teach her how to bake, Miguel can’t help but think about his daughter and how eager she would’ve been to bake with you. He imagines you would’ve been so sweet and patient with her, just the way you are with Mayday.

After baking and decorating cookies, everyone gathers in the living room to enjoy them and relax with the Christmas tree in sight.

All too soon, Miguel and you cook dinner while those who stay to dine with you entertain Mayday in the living room with coloring books. Once dinner is over and the kitchen is cleaned, you put on a Christmas movie while Miguel gathers the snacks, starting the final fun activity for Mayday. Of course, your friends were invited to stay and so they did, which results in a full living room with some people sitting on the floor.

Miguel and you, however, sit on the same couch next to each other and share snacks while the movie plays. You eventually note, close to the end, that Mayday has fallen asleep with Binx close to her chest, exhausted from the day out. A few minutes later, the credits begin to roll and one by one, your friends bid their goodbyes and wish you both a Merry Christmas before returning to their cabins.

“Should we put on another movie? We still have about half an hour before we drop off Mayday,” you say once it’s just the three of you.

“I’m personally… In the mood for Christmas movies, so I’d be happy to watch one more,” Miguel answers with a grin.

“Me, too! Alright, let’s see,” you say, looking to see what options there are. “This one sounds interesting. It says —” you begin but stop when you feel something small fall on you. “What was that?”

“Hm?” Miguel moves to see what fell on you before he feels something light hit his shoulder, too.

You both shift over and find small berries — mistletoe berries, to be exact.

“Berries…?” you say softly before you both look up in confusion only to find mistletoe hanging from the ceiling thanks to spider web and tied with a pretty satin red bow. “I… That wasn’t there before, was it?” you ask, slowly looking at Miguel.

“I think I would’ve noticed it,” Miguel answers. “But, I also didn’t see any of our friends do that, so…” Miguel looks at you, trailing off for a few seconds. “I have no idea how it got there.”

Meeting Miguel’s gaze, you nod in the dimly lit room. You suddenly become aware of the crackling flames from the fireplace and the scent of baking still present. “I don’t know either,” you answer softly, noticing Miguel’s crimson eyes and how they seem to shine because of the flames. You swallow softly, slowly smiling at him out of — something. Amusement? Shyness? Disbelief that you’re both under mistletoe again? A mixture of everything? You don’t know.

Gently, Miguel smiles, too. His gaze sweeps over your face, locking every detail into his memory the way you’d try to memorize every feature about a touching and beautiful work of art; how the fire’s flames cast light on your face, caressing you; the way your eyelashes frame your eyes; and how your eyes look at him with a glimmer in them.

Still smiling at each other, you both chuckle quietly.

“Well…” Miguel starts. “There’s mistletoe.”

“Again,” you say, exhaling softly.

“Again,” Miguel confirms, remembering you’ve now found yourselves under mistletoe twice. He’s also, unwillingly, reminded of that moment with Reilly earlier. Out of instinct, his hand closes into a fist just thinking about it, but he pushes the memory aside, not wanting that bad memory to taint this lighthearted moment.

“It’s everywhere,” you continue, amused, still staring at Miguel.

“It seems so,” he answers, gazing at you.

A few seconds pass and you’re both still staring at each other, unable to look away. Maybe it’s exhaustion, or something else, but you both begin to lean closer without realizing it. Your heads gradually move closer and closer, completely unaware of how the distance is growing shorter and shorter with every breath from your lungs. In that moment, even the crackling from the fireplace ceases and all you can both focus on is each other, almost in a trance.

“Hey, guys!”

Startled, Miguel and you turn to the front door, now fully open thanks to Peter, who has his arms high in the air to make an entrance. He freezes at the sight, eyes widen as Miguel and you stand up from the couch.

“Peter!” you start. “I thought we were dropping Mayday for you?”

“Ah…” Peter trails off, looking between you and Miguel, who is suddenly busy folding a blanket. “Yes, but Mary Jane and I literally decided, like two minutes ago, that it’d be better for me to pick her up since you guys have done so much for us today. I’m sorry if I startled you, that wasn’t my intention.” Peter says before he spots the mistletoe, it adding even more fuel to his thoughts. “Uh… Seems like I should’ve messaged you before showing up?”

“No, it’s okay,” Miguel says, now picking up an empty bowl that had popcorn earlier. “Some of the spider group, who stayed for dinner and a movie, just left.”

“Yeah, you missed them by like thirty seconds or so,” you add.

“Literally, like thirty seconds,” Miguel confirms, for some reason having the need to emphasize that you were both in company of others up until now. “We just finished watching the movie.”

“And Mayday has been asleep for about fifteen minutes or so. She’s exhausted form the day,” you continue.

“Uhuh, I can imagine,” Peter replies, slowly grinning. “I bet you guys had an exhausting yet fun day together.”

“We tried to. I think we succeeded,” you reply with a smile, feeling like you’re explaining yourself when there’s no reason to. Right?

“I would say so,” Miguel adds, coming to stand next to you. “By the way, you have a new family member besides Benjamin.”

“Oh?” Peter inquires simply.

“Binx,” you say, gesturing to the stuffed animal Mayday is still holding on to while sleeping.

“You guys bought her a reindeer plushie?”

“Miguel,” you clarify.

“Dulzura helped Mayday choose, so it was a team effort,” Miguel counters.

“Love the team work,” Peter replies with a full blown grin. “Well, I’ll go ahead and take Mayday, and let you guys rest for the remainder of the night. I imagine you’re both a bit tired after looking after a kid.” He walks past you two and approaches his daughter, picking her up effortlessly and cradling her along with Binx.

At the door, Miguel hands him Mayday’s backpack, too, finalizing the day. “You don’t need help?” Miguel asks.

“Thanks, pal, but I got it from here. You two continue on with your night,” Peter replies, stealing a glance at you and half smirking. “Enjoy the holidays. I’ll see you guys after Christmas at HQ.”

“Say hi to Mary Jane,” you state. “And again, if you guys need something — anything at all — let me know.”

“Yeah, please remember that,” Miguel says, scratching his neck. “We’re here. If we can help somehow, we’d be happy to.”

Smiling, Peter nods. “I know. Thank you, guys. We truly appreciate it. And, thank you for looking after Mayday and Mr. Binx, too.”

“It was a pleasure,” you answer with a smile.

“Any time,” Miguel replies.

“Thanks, guys! I’ll get going now. Have fun and continue to enjoy your vacation!” Peter calls out as he walks out of the cabin. “See you soon!” With his webs, he closes the door shut, leaving Miguel and you alone for the first time since this morning when you woke up in the same bed.

Alone, you both look around before the mistletoe catches your attention again.

The sight of it leaves the two of you rooted to the ground, next to each other. Moments ago, you were sitting beneath it having just learned of its existence and you were staring at each other, laughing about it. It was funny, you internally tell yourselves. Although there is the question of how it got there and by who, but as you both continue to stare at it, you discover that you don’t care to know. It’s harmless and innocent and it’s not like something happened, you tell yourselves, oblivious to that moment, where your heads were inching closer before Peter arrived.

A second later, you yawn softly out of exhaustion. “M’sorry, I guess I’m beginning to feel tired,” you start softly. “Should we quickly clean up and then head to sleep?”

Miguel nods, redirecting his attention from the mistletoe to you. “Yes, or if you wish to go to sleep already. I can clean up on my own.”

“I’m not leaving the cleaning to yourself,” you quickly answer. “We’ll get it done faster together.”

As always, the team effort goes smoothly. Miguel and you leave the living room and kitchen spotless, especially when you remember that tomorrow is your last day in the cabin.

A short while later, you walk into your bedroom donning pajamas. Rubbing hand lotion on your hands, you look up and find Miguel on the bed already. He’s leaning against the headboard while reading a book, lost in the words. Pausing a few steps in, you gaze at him respectfully, or at least you hope so anyway. Miguel’s shirtless once more, apparently not cold, and wearing sweatpants that sit at his waist.

Massaging the rest of your lotion into your skin, you look away and breathe out after seemingly holding your breath. For some reason…

At last, you approach the bed, noting that Miguel has already placed the covers in a way so you can easily slip in. You hum quietly when you’re under the same covers, finding that the bed is warm already, even though Miguel has probably only been on it for a few minutes. Regardless, you embrace the warmth and allow it to embrace you back as you get comfortable.

Next to you, Miguel uses his bookmark and closes the book before he puts it away on the nightstand. He yawns softly and looks down at you, taking note of your sleepy gaze.

“Good night, Dulzura,” he murmurs quietly to avoid startling you. “Sleep well.”

With a small and sleepy smile, you respond. “Good night, Migs. Sweet dreams.”

-♡-

Outside, the heavy snow falls off trees’ branches. Pine cones drop and decorate the ground. Somewhere, wildlife roams the beautiful land that is their home, leaving footprints of their strolls. A silence unknown to most cities is loud in this vast land; no helicopters roam above, no lousy cars speeding off, and there’s no sight or racket from bustling streets filled with beings.

There is silence, a peaceful kind, and with it, a heat.

It’s an inviting, blazing, and amicable heat. The kind you wish to bask in on a cold winter morning until noon. The kind of heat that grows from two individuals’ bodies laying so close together, it lulls you straight back to sleep.

It’s that heat Miguel and you are responsible for as you lay together under the same sheets. Your heads rest on the edge of your respective pillows; your faces merely separated by a few inches.

Slowly and comfortably, Miguel and you wake up at once. With a soft yawn here and a low murmur there, you both slowly open your sleepy eyes and simply embrace the moment. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re both very much still filled with sleep, or perhaps it’s due to something else entirely, but the two of you remain still.

Neither of you move an inch; not when you slowly realize your fingers are intertwined and that your faces are so close together, it would make people talk. Minutes pass and with each one, the more conscious you both become. You finally reach a point of awareness that makes you discover something else: the intimate tangle of your legs, with one of yours between Miguel’s.

It’s until then that it truly dawns on you; your unconscious disregard for Miguel’s physical boundaries. A second later, your eyes go wide. “Oh — Oh, I’m so sorry,” you suddenly say, speaking for the first time today. You quickly move your leg away and remove your hand from Miguel’s before scooting away. “I’m so sorry. I just realized.”

With your sudden and too soon departure from him, Miguel sits up and shakes his head. “Don’t worry. It’s alright,” he answers, his voice deep from just waking up. “People can’t help what they do while they’re sleeping,” Miguel reassures you, curling his fingers into his palm, the ones that were intertwined with yours just now. He exhales softly, feeling the loss of your warmth and touch instantly, and wishing there had been a warning to prepare himself for it.

“I — I know, but still,” you respond, covering your face with your hands because you feel hot in the face out of embarrassment and regret. “I hope I didn’t make you too uncomfortable.”

“Dulzura,” Miguel starts, waiting for you to lower your hands so he can see your face. “Dulzura,” he calls again, much more gentler, when you continue to hide behind your hands. “Can you look at me, please?”

Slowly, you lower your hands when you hear the gentle pleading of his voice. “Yes?”

Miguel smiles, lazily. “Don’t worry about it, please.”

“Your boundaries are —” you start.

“Fine,” Miguel gently interrupts. “I’m fine. You seem to have forgotten that my hand was also there, with yours,” he says, pausing when he admits that, feeling an extra warmth rush to his cheeks. “And, my legs were also, you know, tangled with yours, so… I think it’s safe to say, I was more than comfortable,” Miguel admits softly. “So, don’t worry on my behalf. Or, about my boundaries. Please.”

“I…” you trail off, staring at him to gauge his reaction, to see if he’s truly not upset about the unconscious physical touch. With each second, you realize he’s truly okay with it. Miguel was and is comfortable with the much more intimate touching. You nod and give him a small yet sheepish smile after a few seconds. “Alright. Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” Miguel answers, smiling back. “You’re… Always so considerate. So much, that sometimes you stress yourself too much, Dulzura. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as considerate and respectful as you, you know?”

Smiling slightly, you shrug and look away. “It’s the least anyone can do, to be respectful.”

“And yet, there are some people who lack such quality, so thank you,” Miguel continues before his expression turns more serious. “But, just because I’m alright with it, doesn’t mean I expect you to.”

“Wha—What?” you ask softly, noticing the way he’s serious now when it comes to your comfort.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable at all. I know yesterday I also—” Miguel starts.

“I’m alright, too, Miguel,” you say, interrupting him now. “I was worried about you. I’m… Personally alright.”

Miguel nods, visibly relaxing when he hears the honesty in your tone. He slowly smiles. “I’m glad we can talk like this.”

You tilt your head slightly. “Talk like this?”

“That I’m able to communicate with you better than I used to,” Miguel explains.

“I’m glad you do, too,” you answer, recalling how Miguel kept a lot to himself in previous years, but how with time, he’s slowly opened up to you.

“Something else to thank you for,” he says, still smiling at you. Staring at you, Miguel thinks about that for a few seconds and how he’d have pages full of reasons to thank you for. He hums and slowly gets out of bed, deciding to start the day. “Now, since we’ve discussed that, let’s discuss something else. It’s our last day here and we leave by noon. How about we go get breakfast at the diner before we head home?”

“That sounds like a great way to end our trip,” you answer, kicking off the covers and climbing out of bed with a clear conscious.

After getting ready, Miguel and you decide to do a few things before heading out. You both pack your bags and make sure all the rooms are tidy, leaving them the way they were before you arrived. Fortunately, the broken bed won’t be an issue with the owners since Miguel notified them yesterday at some point, and they admitted they had noticed strange noises coming from it during cleaning. So, he was assured no charges would be added since it was an issue on their end.

Eventually, the two of you make it back to the same diner from yesterday and have a lovely breakfast together whilst enjoying the over the top Christmas vibes from the village.

“I got something sticky on my hand,” you say softly when you’re both done eating.

“Could it be that shiny thing you have on your lips?” Miguel asks since he noticed that you applied something glossy today.

“It’s a lip oil, meant to hydrate my lips due to the weather,” you answer with a smile, amused that Miguel has called it a ‘shiny thing’.

“Right. Lip oil,” Miguel answers, storing that away in his mind because it’s related to you. “It looks pretty on you.”

“Thank you,” you reply with a shy smile. “But it’s not that, it’s something else.”

“Maybe it was from passing me the salt and pepper,” Miguel says, thinking about earlier when his eggs needed a little more seasoning. “It felt weird when you handed it to me. Too many people touch it.” At that, you make a playful little face and mouth ‘yuck’, which makes Miguel laugh. “You should go wash your hands. I’ll pay and then go wash mine before we head out.”

“Alright, I’ll be quick,” you say, slipping out of the booth and heading to the restrooms, remembering the way from yesterday.

After seeing you make it to the restroom, Miguel heads to the register to pay. It doesn’t take him very long, considering there’s no line of customers, so he’s soon headed to the restroom to wash his hands. A minute later, he walks out and spots Ben Reilly leave your side and head his way, to the restrooms. For an unknown reason, Miguel gets a bad feeling, which only grows when he notices Ben wipe his mouth.

“Miguel, hey,” Reilly greets him as he reaches the restroom area.

“Hey, Ben,” Miguel answers, staring a little too closely at Reilly. It’s that, however, which allows Miguel to notice that Reilly has something shiny around his mouth. Something like a lip gloss, or a lip oil. Miguel swallows, his hands curling into fists at his sides at the sight. “Doing well?” he asks.

“Yeah, today has been a great day so far,” Reilly answers, briefly looking over his shoulder before facing Miguel again with a grin.

“That’s great. Glad to hear it,” Miguel responds, wondering why Reilly’s grin irritates him so much suddenly. He wishes he could wipe it off.

“I hope you’re doing well, too,” Reilly says, still grinning.

“I am, thank you,” Miguel replies without a smile on his face. “The past few days have been great with Dulzura, that’s my nickname for Y/N,” Miguel clarifies with a little smirk. “And with our other friends. We’re going home today to celebrate Christmas, but we definitely enjoyed our stay. This place is great,” he adds for some reason, noticing the grin disappear off Reilly’s face. Finally.

“Oh. You guys are going home,” Reilly says, clearing his throat. “To celebrate Christmas together. That’s great. So great for you guys... Well, I’m glad you enjoyed your stay. Happy Holidays to you.”

“Happy Holidays to you, too,” Miguel replies with a nod, watching Reilly slip inside the restroom with a frown on his face after wearing that frustrating grin. He huffs, annoyed with Reilly before he walks straight to you, thinking about the shiny stuff on his face. He pushes the thought away, but it comes back to him when he spots you reapplying your lip product, and mistletoe hanging from the ceiling just a few feet away from you. A sinking feeling washes over Miguel as he unwillingly connects those two facts with Ben and the shiny stuff on his face.

“Hey, you took a moment there. You alright?” you ask when you notice him, putting away the lip product into your pocket.

“… Yes,” Miguel answers, inhaling deeply and trying not to think too much about the reason why you just reapplied the product to your lips.

“I ran into Ben and what’s her name,” you start as you both exit the diner. “Everyone calls her Spider-Canada.”

“Spider…” Miguel trails off, not remembering her name in this moment. “Yeah, Spider-Canada. She was here, too?”

“Yes. Her and Ben were having breakfast. I ran into them while waiting for you.”

“Oh, that’s good for them,” he answers, swallowing. He glances your way as you both walk back to the cabin, noticing that you seem relaxed, a little too much, despite what may have just happened between you and Ben. He wants to ask and yet, at the same time, he doesn’t. What if you kissed and it was non-consensual from you? What if Ben disrespected you? He wants to know if Reilly has done that, but at the same time he doesn’t because he’d be upset.

He’d be upset that Ben disrespected you like that.

That’s the only reason he’d be upset; the sole reason for the sinking feeling Miguel carries with him all the way to the cabin.

Right?

Despite his curiosity, Miguel doesn’t dare to ask if something did happen. Not even when you’re both back home in Nueva York and done making plans regarding the cooking for Christmas Eve.

-♡-Christmas Eve-♡-

On the first morning back to Nueva York, Miguel surprises you with pancakes and other sides like fruit for breakfast. You both enjoy the meal at the dining table while talking, though you can sense that something has been on Miguel’s mind since yesterday right before you left the other universe. It made you wonder if Miguel had changed his mind and wanted to stay longer at the cabin, but when you asked if he was unhappy to leave, he answered no and seemed to mean it.

The rest of the day went smoothly once you arrived home, but still, you could tell something was, and still is, bothering Miguel. With the day ahead, you decide to give Miguel space regarding the matter, especially when he seems his normal self when he’s engaging with you or cooking. You figure he will share with you whatever is on his mind, at his own time.

At around noon, Miguel and you launch into action and begin prepping for the festive dinner.

Tamales with different fillings, and pozole [hominy] are cooked. Fruit is chopped and the dry ingredients are gathered for the ponche before it's all added to a pot with water to boil [hot fruit punch]. The champurrado is carefully prepared by Miguel, who tells you about his mom’s recipe [Mexican beverage]. Buñuelos [fried dough fritter]are also made, filling the kitchen with the sweet scent of piloncillo syrup [a type of cane sugar]. Since it’s one of your favorites, Miguel also cooks tinga with your help [Mexican dish]. For another dessert, you bake one of Miguel’s favorite cakes.

Hours later, you’ve both showered and dressed in more appropriate clothes for dinner to celebrate Christmas. With happy and joyous Christmas music playing from Miguel’s record player from the living room and the table set, you have dinner together, officially making it the third year you’ve done so.

Thinking about that, you chuckle at yourself and how nervous you were that first year.

“What’s so funny?” Miguel inquires with a raised eyebrow and a soft smile.

“I was thinking about the very first time I came here — to your home,” you answer, grabbing your glass and drinking. “I don’t know if you knew, but I was nervous about coming here.”

“I could tell,” Miguel responds, lowering his fork and recalling that moment from three years ago. He smiles fondly at you, feeling tenderness for you. Who would’ve thought that you’d be here three years later, having dinner with him again? Miguel clears his throat, suddenly feeling a knot begin to form. “When Lyla told me that you had been sent to deliver food and asking about my whereabouts, she mentioned you looked nervous. And, when you arrived, I could tell. You apologized for coming here before you explained that the Morales’s had sent food with you.”

You smile slowly and nod. “I was the chosen one. For some reason.”

“And I’m… I’m thankful you were,” Miguel softly answers. “I’m thankful you came that night and that you accepted my invitation for dinner. That was the first year I celebrated the holidays here in my universe after not doing so for many years. It was the first time I wasn’t alone on those days since Gabriel passed away. It meant, and still continues to mean, so much to me.”

You look away, feeling your eyes water. After clearing your throat, you look up and nod. “It meant so much to me that you invited me to stay. That you showed me the holographic tree and how holographic ornaments are designed. And, how you invited me the next day for the recalentado,” you answer [Mexican/Latin tradition].

Miguel smiles. “And we’ve kept it a tradition, haven’t we?” he whispers, a tear slipping down his face.

“We have,” you whisper back, a tear of your own running down your cheek.

“Don’t cry, Dulzura,” Miguel whispers, reaching over the table and offering your special gesture; his pinky finger. When you wrap yours around his without any doubt or questions, Miguel reciprocates. “Please, seeing you cry, makes me want to cry.”

“Sorry,” you whisper, wiping your eyes with your free hand, but a few more tears roll down your face out of nostalgia. Things have changed since that night three years ago, for the better.

“I know,” Miguel murmurs, raising his free hand to your face to gently wipe the tears away. He clears his throat, another tear slipping out of his eye. “We've come a long way.” He smiles again, thinking about three years ago. So much has happened and changed since then. He's smiled, laughed, and cried with you. He's made memories he'll carry, cherish, and protect for the rest of his life.

When he thought he was meant to be alone, in walked someone who didn't give up on him; someone who has had the patience of a saint with him; and someone who extended their hand and kept it offered until he was ready to accept it, or at least, a pinky finger.

“We really have. Three years later and we're here,” you answer. Three years ago, you visited the penthouse for the first time and now, you have a bedroom upstairs. There are reminders and personal touches of yours all throughout the space, like the gallery wall in the living room and the mugs from your universe in the kitchen cupboards. “Thank you for trusting me,” you murmur.

“Thank you for not giving up on me,” Miguel murmurs back.

With a tender smile, you respond. “Never.” You smile at each other, tears still brimming in your eyes. “Let’s finish dinner. Everything, as always, turned out so delicious. And we still have the Christmas show to watch, don’t we?” you ask excitedly, trying to lighten up the mood.

“We do. It’ll start in a few hours.”

“I wonder if you’ll be part of it again,” you answer, making Miguel chuckle.

“Maybe. I’d be surprised if I am for a second year in a row,” Miguel answers, noticing your pinkies are still attached. “Either way, I hope you enjoy it.”

“I’m certain I will,” you answer, giving Miguel’s pinky a squeeze before slowly and reluctantly releasing his finger.

“You up for tinga?” Miguel asks, following your attempt to lighten the mood.

With no more tears shed, you continue to have dinner and enjoy the amazing food you both cooked. After the Christmas holographic show, which did include Miguel once more, you find yourselves in the living room, your usual hangout place. Sitting on the ground, you stare at the Christmas tree’s lights, admiring the beautiful tree and feeling the Christmas spirit. You’ve been talking about your short vacation, recalling each moment from the ice skating to the snowball fight you had with the spider gang.

It’s all lighthearted and fun, but of course, talking about the trip reminds Miguel of the whole thing with Ben from yesterday — about whether you kissed. Miguel has tried his best not to think about it and he’s been successful, or so he thinks, but the thought has come back thanks to the conversation.

And he must know.

Did Ben kiss you?

“Dulzura,” Miguel starts, trying to find the right words. “I know you’re a strong woman. That you can take care of yourself and have no need for someone to physically help you, but…”

“What is it, Miguel?” you ask, curious as to where this is going. One moment you’re talking about the trip and now the conversation has shifted to something completely different and unexpected.

“You would tell me, even if you can take care of yourself, if someone… Took advantage of your kindness, right?”

“Wh— What do you mean?” you ask, confused. With furrowed eyebrows, you shift your body to face and look at Miguel better.

“If someone… If someone was to take liberties with you,” Miguel answers, unsure if he’s using the right words or if he sounds crazy right now. “Like, kissing you without your consent.”

That makes you raise an eyebrow. Where is this coming from? You nod regardless. “I… Yes, I would if that happened. I would confide in you if such situation took place.” You blink a few times, still trying to understand why Miguel has brought this up.

“If that happened,” Miguel repeats, now uncertain if Ben did anything at all, or if he did but with your full consent.

“Why are you asking me this?” you inquire.

Miguel sighs, running a hand through his hair and deciding to be honest. “I ran into Ben at the diner yesterday, too. At the restrooms. I noticed he had something like lip gloss on his mouth and then, when I went back to you, you were reapplying your lip oil. I also noticed there was mistletoe near you, so… I couldn’t help but think that you guys…” Miguel says, trailing off.

“Kissed,” you finish, everything clicking in your head with Miguel’s confession. “No, we didn’t.”

“Oh,” Miguel replies, relief running through his body. “I was worried he had and that it hadn’t been with your consent,” Miguel continues, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Ben can be… A little clueless sometimes, and impulsive. So, I was worried he had kissed you in the name of mistletoe without your permission.”

Suddenly, you realize this is what has been bothering Miguel all along since yesterday. You smile and shake your head, understanding now where Miguel is coming from, and feeling something warm and fuzzy bloom in your chest at the fact that Miguel has been worried about you being in an uncomfortable position due to a man.

“He didn’t kiss me, but he did kiss Spider-Canada. I still can’t remember her name,” you pause, frowning and trying to remember. “I was under the mistletoe with him at some point and he was just about to tell me about it when I stepped away to look for you. When I looked back at them, Spider-Canada was already next to Ben, right under the mistletoe, so they kissed once they gave each other clearance to do so. She was wearing lip gloss, or something of the sort, which Ben tried to wipe off, but he ended up spreading it all over instead. That’s when he excused himself to go to the restroom.”

“I see,” Miguel answers, smiling slowly and finding the situation somewhat funny now, though Ben’s attitude still seems a bit annoying to him. “I’m glad it was consensual,” he continues, telling himself that he’d be saying the same thing, even if it was you in Spider-Canada’s place.

“Me, too. So yeah, no kisses for me.” You chuckle. “Except you know…”

Miguel raises an eyebrow, wondering if he missed something along the way.

“The one you and I…” you say, trailing off.

“Ah, yes, yes,” Miguel answers shyly, his cheeks feeling warmer suddenly. “Just that one.”

“But thank you for thinking about me,” you continue. “I appreciate your concern.” You sigh softly. “And I would’ve told you if something like that happened to me. You’re my… Best friend, after all.”

“And you’re mine,” Miguel answers with a small smile. “I’m glad you’d feel comfortable sharing that kind of situation with me. I know you can take care of yourself, but still. I would — I would defend and stand up for you, or stand next to you and help when you request aid. Whichever way you prefer, I’ll be here for you. Always.”

“Same goes to you,” you reply, touched by his words. “Always.”

Smiling, Miguel sighs. He’s glad that he finally asked you about the situation and relieved that nothing happened. For your safety and well being, of course! With that out of his mind, he thinks about the trip again and how much he enjoyed getting away with you, even if it was just for a few days. “Can we do this again next year?” Miguel asks. “Take a getaway trip, and then come back and celebrate Christmas at home?”

“If you'll have me and I'm still around, it's a yes from me,” you answer, staring at the lights.

“I'll have you,” Miguel quickly responds, holding back from saying that he’ll have you every Christmas, every single one until his last one, if you allow him to. “So, you better be here.”

You laugh softly and turn to face Miguel, smiling. “I'll do my absolute best to be here.”

“Good,” he answers, turning to face you, too. “Or, I’ll go and find you. Wherever you are.”

Chuckling, you continue to stare at Miguel. “Likewise, solecito [little sun].”

At the nickname, Miguel feels his cheeks grow warm. It’s been over a month since you gave him the new nickname and since then, you’ve used it a few times here and there, but no matter how many times you’ve said it, Miguel still feels over the moon each and every time he's heard it. He smiles at you, a fuzzy and fluttering ****feeling stirring in his chest. It's familiar, yet somehow it’s stronger here in this moment.

“Should we… Stay here and maybe watch a movie?” you ask, gesturing to the living room that looks absolutely cozy and magical due to the decorations.

“If you want to,” Miguel answers. “I don’t mind. Staying, that is.”

“Hmm,” you hum, thinking. “I wouldn’t mind either.”

“It’s settled, then,” he states. “I’ll be right back. Wait for me here.”

You watch Miguel stand up, wondering where he’s going, but you don’t have to wonder for long because two minutes later, Miguel comes back from upstairs with pillows and blankets. Smiling, you help set up since you’ll be spending the night in the living room, together.

Once settled, and after you've completed your night routines, Miguel and you decide on a movie to watch, but an hour later, you've both fallen asleep next to each other.

-♡-Christmas Day-♡-

Snowflakes swirl down from the sky, adding to the already thick white blanket that covers the city of Nueva York. Inside the penthouse, the fireplace is still on, keeping the space warm and toasty. The Christmas tree and other festive decorations are still on, creating a lovely and welcoming ambiance. Everything looks the same, except for the gifts beneath the Christmas tree that were left during the night by each of you at different times.

“It’s Christmas time!”

Miguel and you startle awake by the loud voice of… Lyla, of course.

“What time is it?” you sleepily ask, rubbing one of your eyes.

“You didn’t have to startle us like that,” Miguel grumpily and sleepily says, sitting up with a huff.

“But it’s Christmas time! All the families in Nueva York are waking up right now, so you guys should, too!” Lyla eagerly says. “Plus, I really want to see what you got each other for Christmas. It was soooo cute seeing you guys wake up in the middle of the night to put your gifts under the tree. Like, so adorable. I took photos, of course.”

“Lyla,” you mutter. “Please tell me you didn’t because I’m sure we probably don’t look good in them.”

“Yeah, that’s unfortunately the truth. You guys look like you’re sneaking around, which I guess you were to avoid waking each other up? But anyway… Open the gifts!”

“I think we both need coffee first,” Miguel says looking at you rub away the sleep from your eyes, looking so sweet and endearing.

“Mhm,” you confirm. “A cup. Or, two.”

Miguel chuckles deeply before he yawns. “I’ll make it for us. If you want to lay down for a few more minutes, go ahead. I’ll bring it over here once it’s done.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, looking up at Miguel as he stands up.

“I’m sure, Dulzura,” Miguel answers, looking down at you with a soft and sleepy smile. “I’ll get it.”

You nod and watch him head to the kitchen to make the coffee. With a yawn, you lay back down and close your eyes.

“Isn’t he so sweet?”

You open your eyes again, finding Lyla laying on her stomach in mid-air next to you. “What?” you ask, sleepily.

“Miguel. Isn’t he so sweet? Letting you sleep a few more minutes while he makes coffee for the two of you?”

“Yes,” you answer, nodding. “It’s very sweet of him.”

“I think he’d make a great husband,” Lyla continues, smiling. “Don’t you think?”

“He would,” you respond, sleep fading away due to the conversation. “He really would.”

“That’s what I’m saying. If he ever marries, that woman will be lucky,” she continues, raising an eyebrow at you.

“She would,” you answer, slowly sitting up again.

“Anywayyyy,” Lyla continues, checking her nails before glancing at you. “Something I thought about just now. Well, my duty here is done. I’ve woken you two up.”

“I thought you wanted to see what we gifted each other—” you say, but are interrupted by Lyla.

“I see everything, unless deactivated, so no worries. Merry Christmas,” Lyla says with a little smirk before disappearing.

After a few seconds of silence, you sigh and shake your head, putting thoughts of Miguel marrying away. You glance at the windows, noticing the falling snow. With a smile, you stand up and walk to the windows to take a closer look, finding everything covered in snow.

“Una blanca Navidad [a white Christmas],” Miguel states from behind you, finding you in front of the windows. He pauses for a moment to take in the sight of you before approaching.

“A white Christmas,” you repeat with a smile, accepting a mug when Miguel offers you one. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“Always,” he answers. “We definitely need it since someone rudely woke us up. Wait — where's Lyla?”

“She's already gone. She said she can see everything unless deactivated.”

“Lyla,” Miguel mutters, shaking his head before drinking from his mug. He turns to gaze at you again, smiling when he remembers. “Want to open the gifts?”

“Yeah, why not?” you answer with a smile, gesturing to the tree.

With your mugs, you both approach the tree and carefully sit down on the ground.

“Alright, let me see which one I want to give you first,” Miguel says, looking at his carefully wrapped gifts. He picks up a box and hands it to you. “Let’s start with this one.”

“And you with this one,” you answer, accepting his gift to you and handing him his from you. Looking at the box, you smile when you see ‘Dulzura’ written in Miguel’s neat handwriting on a name tag, along with a cute bow.

Together, you unwrap the first gifts together, revealing new music records for each other.

“Seems like we had the same idea,” you say, looking at the different artists’ names.

“Great minds think alike,” Miguel answers with a soft smirk, thankful for your gift. “Thank you for the new records. I’m more than ready to listen to them.”

“Always. I hope you like them,” you respond with a smile. “Thank you for mine, too. I have no doubt I’m going to enjoy them.”

With a grin, Miguel nods and hands you another box. “I hope you do. I went back to the record store you took me to on my birthday. Mr. Stanley asked about you,” he says, accepting another gift box from you. “He asked where… Um.” Miguel pauses as he gently begins to unwrap the box. “Where I left my girlfriend at.”

“He asked me where I left you at, too,” you reveal with a chuckle. “I went earlier this month to pick up a few things from his store.”

“I did, too,” Miguel shares with a smile. “Told him I was picking up some gifts.”

Finally opening the gifts, and being completely fine with the fact that you’ve both casually accepted someone’s assumption of a romantic relationship between you, you both pull out sweatshirts.

“Hey!” Miguel says with excitement as he unfolds the sweatshirt to see the full design, revealing Spider-Woman merch from your universe. “Merch of my favorite Spider-Woman,” he says with a smile. “I love the design and how soft it is.”

Unfolding yours, you find that the sweatshirt is also merch of Miguel with Spider-Man 2099 on it. “And I got my own of Spider-Man 2099. How did you know I’m a big fan of him?” you playfully ask.

“I had a guess,” Miguel answers with a soft smirk. “I hope you like the design and color though. If you don’t, we can return this one and get another one.”

“No, no, I love it! Thank you, Migs,” you reply, touching the fabric. “You’ll be seeing me wearing it often, that’s for sure.”

After exchanging a few more gifts like books, cute fuzzy socks and pajamas with one of your favorite characters on them for you, and a tool set for Miguel among other gifts, Miguel and you each have a box left.

“Here,” Miguel gently says, offering his gift, the most vulnerable of all. “I hope you like it.”

“For you,” you respond, handing him your last gift for him.

At the same time, you accept each other’s final gifts and begin to open them. From the size alone, it seems that whatever you've gifted each other is small and delicate. When the paper is off, jewelry boxes are revealed, making you both look up at each other with equal surprise and amusement. The latter fades, however, when you each open the box and find a similar, if not the exact, gift.

Carefully, you take the bracelet out of the box to admire it. Much like the one you’re giving Miguel, the bracelet is simple except for a single knot in the middle.

“We got each other the same thing,” Miguel states softly in astonishment. With gentleness, he takes it out of the box before looking at you. “Well, mine is meant as a matching…”

“Matching bracelet,” you finish, pulling out the one meant for you out of a pocket from your pajamas's bottom. Your plan was to surprise Miguel with matching bracelets before wearing your own.

“You…?” Miguel starts before he pulls out a bracelet from his sweatpants’s pocket, having the same plan as you. “I got mine from here — this universe, I mean.”

“And I got mine from my own,” you answer in awe.

Silently, you slip on the bracelets you already had, the ones meant for yourselves, before slipping on the ones you’ve gifted each other. Seconds later, you extend your hand out and so does Miguel, your wrists side by side now wearing two bracelets that are fairly similar except for the thickness.

Miguel chuckles as he continues to stare at both your wrists, finding it amusing yet again, but mostly endearing. “What a coincidence,” he murmurs, that of everything you could’ve gifted each other, you both went for matching bracelets. And not only that, the matching bracelets are the same in design with its single yet elegant knot.

“Truly,” you answer with a smile. “But I love the gift regardless. Thank you, Miguel.”

“Always,” Miguel replies, still smiling, before he thanks you for his.

“Merry Christmas,” you tell him.

“Feliz Navidad, Dulzura [Merry Christmas],” Miguel responds with a smile. “Do you want to have breakfast now? I can cook something for us and then, we can put together the puzzle I gifted you. Seems like it’ll keep us busy.”

“That sounds like a wonderful plan,” you answer, picking up the puzzle he gave you. You stare at the picture on the front, admiring it since it’s a pretty puzzle of flying butterflies colored in a way that makes it look vintage. “I’ll help you!” you offer, standing up eagerly to have breakfast with Miguel.

The two of you walk to the kitchen together, the matching bracelets safe around your wrists.

“Wait, really?” Lyla asks, appearing near the tree and watching you enter the kitchen. “You guys didn’t even ask about the knot and the significance.” She huffs. “You’ll figure it out sooner or later, I guess. Hopefully, sooner rather than later, though,” she says with a smirk before disappearing again.

You spend the rest of the day together in the comfort of the penthouse, the very same place Miguel once found cold and desolate, but now feels like home because of you. Time is spent on the puzzle, café de olla is drank, and amazing food is reheated and eaten. Talks about New Year’s Eve comes up with both Miguel and you looking forward to it and knowing that no matter where you spend it, you’ll be together to welcome the new year and everything it has to offer; adventures, personal growth, laughs, special moments, and memories to cherish for years to come.

And perhaps, Miguel thinks to himself later that night as he lays in bed alone while playing with his bracelets, the year to come will be the year he finally says goodbye to those physical boundaries of his.

Miguel rolls on his side, facing the empty spot next to him. Mindlessly, he caresses the cold and empty spot with his hand before his fingers find your sweatshirt, tugging it closer almost instantly. Miguel sighs and closes his eyes, your scent much closer now. For a few seconds, he remains like that before he grabs a pillow to slip your sweatshirt onto. At last, Miguel pulls the pillow close, to his chest, and hugs it.

Embracing the pillow, Miguel thinks about you sleeping in the next room, so close but much farther away than the last few days at the cabin.

Miguel sighs again and hugs the pillow closer, wondering. Could this upcoming year, be the year he finally crosses that final line when it comes to his physical boundaries with you?

The mere idea of it makes his heart race, but not out of anxiety like in previous years before you, when people tried touching him to offer comfort. No, Miguel’s heart races out of excitement at the possibility. It’d be so much progress for him, and Miguel knows it. It’d be another step forward in his healing journey.

And… It would also mean, that at some point, at last, Miguel might finally be ready for something you’ve been ready for a while. He recalls now, how nearly a year ago, you made that clear to him with a sudden confession made out of exhaustion.

It was the day your apartment complex caught on fire. You were already here at the penthouse, showered and free of the smell of smoke, but you were exhausted after hours of helping tenants evacuate the building, and Miguel could see it. He made you breakfast so you could eat something before you went to sleep and it was afterwards, when you were going upstairs to the bedroom, that you stopped at the doorway of the kitchen and dining area.

He wondered then if something was wrong before you thanked him for his kindness and the fact that he had respected your choice of declining backup. You thanked him for helping you transport your belongings to this dimension and for offering his home. And then, you said something that Miguel knows you would’ve kept to yourself had you not been so tired.

“… offering me to stay here and trying to make me feel at home,” you said that day, your voice wavering. “It means so much to me and I wish — I wish I could give you a hug — a really tight one — just to emphasize with more than words — how much it means to me.”

That confession, made out of your exhaustion, messed with Miguel so much. He remembers the effect it had on him after you apologized for revealing it. He wondered then, what would it be like to embrace and be embraced by you? To feel your warmth? His hands itched to touch and before he knew it, he was rushing upstairs, but he found you already fast asleep and that rush calmed at the sight of you peacefully resting at last, in his home.

It stayed with him, that confession. And it had such an impact on him that day, that Miguel made his special gesture for the first time ever.

The pinky hug.

Miguel swallows, holding the pillow wrapped in your sweatshirt. You expressed that day your wish to embrace him, meaning you've been ready for it.

But is Miguel ready, too?

Miguel asks himself that before he surrenders to his sleep, lulled by your lovely and familiar scent. Somewhere in his slumber, he murmurs something.

“Yes.”

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

A/N: hiii my lovely pookies!!

Very quickly (because if you read this far, I've already taken an hour or so of your time), I want to say thank you for reading yet another chapter! This is now the second Christmas I’ve spent writing this fic, which is insane, actually. I know I probably sound like a broken record (I’m an emotional/sensitive person, so I just, yeah 🥲), but anyway, thank you so much if you’ve stuck around to read this fic that was meant to be 4 chapters, and for spending another year with me! For those who joined this year, thank you, too! 🥹❤️

I look at where this story is now and I find it unbelievable, yet so fulfilling. I have written many things over the years from fanfic for other fandoms to personal works since I was about 14yrs (wait, the way I started this fic when I was 24, and I'm now 26...? 😭), but to this day, this is by far my top favorite project.

A big reason for that is due to you lovely readers! I'm incredibly thankful that so many of you are still reading this fic despite the slow and/or super long updates sometimes; the slow and torturous slowburn that this fic is; and the lack of romantic and physical love right now that often repels/discourages many readers because of the need for instant spice.

So, thank you for supporting this fic! It has been a privilege to be here and to share my writing. I look forward, God willing, to completing this fic in 2025 and giving it a satisfying and well deserved ending, which will most definitely make me sob my eyes out, but in a happy way ((:

To conclude, thank you for your kindness and love, and for being a safe space for me!! Also, Happy New Year!! I hope that this year treats you with love, kindness, and patience, and that you experience nothing but great things!!

I love you all!! Pls take care and I'll hopefully see you for the next chapter! 💕💖🥹

Alondra❤️

p.s. how normal are Miguel and Dulzura about each other? 😅 And what do we think about Miguel's thoughts at the end? 😌

Taglist:

@loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick

@arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav

@bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi

@natsury-kazuki @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07

@nxrdamp @rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01

@somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274

@vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread

@shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix

@luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues

@pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah

@muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii

@www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l

@aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots

@l3laze @yujyujj @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese

@damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea @moonsua1

@darksidescorner @geminis93

@1800-get-alife

@hrrtkreuz @oharasfilipinawife

@dropyoursocksandgrabyourcrocss

@may4ri @t4naiis @f1-hoff @llumetrii

@nina-from-317 @kavimoo

Bonus Message ... because I meant to write this on an earlier chapter, but since I posted the last 3 chapters in a weekend (oh, who is she?), I forgot to. A lovely new reader caught some symbolism I was really excited about in chapter 18 (beach episode) regarding the mention of butterflies and birds, and since I mentioned butterflies in this chapter, I figured it would be ok to mention it here, too.

As some of you may recall, both Miguel and Dulzura have had encounters with birds when they're at the cemetery. As one reader guessed in the past, these birds represent Gabriel and Peter (Dulzura's Peter), visiting and listening to them.

In chapter 18, Dulzura visited Peter's grave with Miguel, and they both saw a bird (same color as before for her) before it fluttered its wings and flew off.

After doing little research, birds can oftentimes represent freedom and spirituality. Due to that, I decided to convey Gabriel and Peter's spirits/souls through birds. In the end, this bird (Peter) fluttered its wings and flew off after chirping for a bit and staring at M and D, symbolizing Peter's true departure. Why? Up to that point, Dulzura had always gone to the cemetery alone, but that day, Miguel went with her and formally 'met' Peter. The happy chirping for M and D before the bird flew away symbolized his happiness, approval, and acceptance of them -- allowing Peter to fully move on knowing Dulzura is in good hands 🥺

As to the butterflies that flew over Peter's grave as M and D were walking away, these symbolize M and D. Butterflies symbolize rebirth, personal growth, transformations, new beginnings, etc. M and D are individuals who have gone through a rebirth after the losses and pain they have experienced. Together, they're forming a new beginning/life.

As to the puzzle in that chapter that they put together while discussing the possibility of love and having children, it symbolizes them piecing a future together.

And that's it! Thank you for reading that, if you did. I was really excited about the symbolism in that chapter just to forget about it lmao💀😭

[daemour]

♡ Event: @pirateeznet 2nd Anniversary Event

♡ Pairing: Farmhand! Choi San x home aide! f! Reader

♡ Genre: Harvest Moon AU, slight slow burn, fluff, slight angst, T for Teen

♡ Warnings: Cursing, some sexual innuendos at the end, that's it

♡ Summary: Working as a home aide on a farm brings you some new trials...namely a certain attractive farmhand named San.

♡ Word Count: 9277 (im SORRY)

♡ Genre: Regular Life ; Prompt: Coworkers

This was supposed to be...a lot longer. LAMFIJGDFJKGHKJSHDF x) With both Hwa and Joong as other love interests...but I gotta learn how to restrain myself LOL. But I do have more planned with YN and San (and a little more spicy too hehe) so if you'd like to read that let me know!

it's a honker of a fic, so i really do hope you enjoy despite the plot holes LMAO

Thank you to @okiedokrie for beta'ing,,,the first draft lmaooo surprisee...its totally different lol

“Are you serious?” you mutter, standing knee-high in a mud puddle. When you decided to move out of the city and stay with an elderly man as a home nurse on his farm temporarily, you expected to get dirty. But not like this, and not that soon. The wagon was only able to take you so far before you had to walk the rest of the way since it was technically private property or whatever the guy said. You didn’t quite remember his reasoning, and it wouldn’t have been such a big deal if it hadn’t started pouring about five minutes after you started walking. Now you’re cold and wet, and mud is everywhere.

With a frustrated groan, you try and take another step, wincing at the feeling of the mud squelching in your shoes and soaking your socks through. You’re having regrets, but you’re sure the ailing older man is having worse issues than wet socks and shoes and you power through. After a long and gruelling walk, you finally see the cream building and connected barn and you sigh in relief.

“Oh, man, you look a mess,” a voice is heard from behind you and you shriek, dropping down to the ground and clutching at your heart. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. YN, right?”

You nod miserably. “Yeah. This is Aria farm?” You punctuate it with a sniff as you try to regain your dignity.

The man laughs, much more high-pitched than you expected. “Yup. I’m the farmhand, San.” He holds out his hand. “Need a hand up?”

With a shaky smile, you nod, grabbing his hand and letting him pull you up. His grip is strong, warm, and calloused, and you shoo away any unwanted thoughts. “Got caught in the rain?” San smiles apologetically like he was the one who brought the showers down upon you.

“Yeah, I sure did.” You return the smile with a weak one of your own. “Got dumped at the end of the road by the wagon, and not five minutes later I got poured on.”

San winces. “Oh, well, sorry that had to be your first welcome here. I’ll give that guy a talk later—he means no harm, just likes to play pranks.”

You grunt, not caring all that much about the villagers in the town, pranks or not. You have no doubt that the wagoneer meant no harm, nor that the villagers aren’t nice, but most of your days will be spent cooped up with the old farmer in his house. Plus, you decided to move away from the city to get away from people and let your introversion take over.

It takes a moment for you to realise he’s expecting you to keep up a conversation. “How is Mr Takeru doing?”

San shrugs, his eyes continuously flickering back to you. “He’s doing fairly well, all things considered. The fall left him physically incapable of a lot, but his energy hasn’t dwindled at all.” There’s a fondness in his voice. “He’s happy to hear you’ll be coming. He loves having people around and his kids barely visit. To no fault of their own, of course. They’re all on different islands, farming as well and it’s hard to get away.”

You hum. You’ve heard of their family situation, how Takeru’s kids all followed in his footsteps to become farmers, and that their children also went on to become farmers. It’s interesting, and you sometimes wonder if it’s something they all wanted. “It’ll be nice for him to have someone around,” you tell an attentive San. “It would’ve been great for him if some of his family could see him, but I’m sure he’s excited anyway.”

As you talk to San, you don’t realise how quickly the two of you walk until you are already at the house’s porch. San opens the door, stepping in, but you hesitate for just a moment. You almost turn tail if it wasn’t for the warm smile San offers.

“Don’t worry, I promise Mr Takeru is super nice. And I’ll always be happy to keep you company.” His eyes crinkle as his smile widens even further, and you can’t help but feel your face warm at how sweet he is.

“I’ll have to hold you to that, then.”

-

“Are you going to the flower festival tomorrow?” San catches you right when you go out to grab the mail.

You tilt your head as you flip through the many letters. Nothing of too much importance, just a couple of notices from the local stores. You see a letter from one of Mr Takeru’s kids and you smile at the sight of it before realising you hadn’t responded to San. “The what?”

“Flower festival,” San repeats himself, a smile growing on his face. It always seems to be there when you see the farmhand. “It’s a holiday where couples enjoy the cherry blossoms together and all.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “San, I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not quite part of the couples demographic.” The farmhand’s eyes sparkle at your joke, but his gaze does not waver.

“You could go with me,” he suggests and you choke on the spot. “I’m being serious! It’s a really nice time and it’d be a shame if you missed it.”

You sigh, glancing behind you. “We’ll see. I might be busy tomorrow.”

San still smiles triumphantly at your answer. “If you do decide to come, I’ll meet you at the church grounds at seven.” And before you can even respond, he winks and walks away, making sure to flex his back muscles. If you can’t rip your eyes away, that's your own problem.

As the clock ticks closer and closer to six, you get more and more antsy. You’re still debating whether to go. One part of you wants to go so he won’t wait in vain, but the other part of you wants to avoid all sorts of contact with people. Every time you go and buy groceries for Mr Takeru, the villagers all stop to stare at you. And you know it’s partly your fault for never trying to get to know them, but you really would rather stay a hermit.

But San, he was different. Although you’ve only been here for a few weeks, San seems to have taken an interest in you. He’s always finding an excuse to talk to you, be it lunch break or asking to pass a message to Mr Takeru. You’re not quite sure what his motive is, but you’re not complaining. He’s good-looking, kind, and makes an effort to get to know you. Perhaps you should return the kindness.

When the clock strikes half past six, you know it’s the last moment before you can make your decision. After a moment’s hesitation, you call up the stairs “Mr Takeru, I’ll be going out! Do you have everything you need?”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he responds, “Mmh, I’ve got my cane so I’m all good. Going to the festival, I see?”

“Bye, Mr Takeru” You roll your eyes good-naturedly even if he can’t see it, grabbing your bag and practically launching yourself out the door. If you run, you’ll make it just in time.

You’re sure you look crazy, running down the streets while attempting to pull your hair away from your face to no avail, but time is of the essence. You manage to smile at the villagers who wave at you, but you’re panting hard and you think your legs might fall off as you take the church steps three at a time.

As you catch your breath, you can see San out of the corner of your eye approaching with the biggest smile you’ve seen on his face. “You came!”

You open your mouth to respond but all that comes out is a hack from the lack of air in your lungs. San laughs, reaching over to pat you on the back as you take a moment to catch your breath. “My gosh, I am not cut out for running,” you gasp, finally straightening up and brushing your hair out of your face.

San’s hands slow as he shifts them lower to rest at the small of your back. “Well, I’m glad you made it anyway. Come sit with me and my friends. They’ll be happy to see you came.”

Without giving you a moment to protest, San sweeps you away towards the back corner of the courtyard. The two people sitting on a blanket you recognise—the farmer you buy your groceries from and the bartender who walks past Mr Takeru’s farm on the way to work in the afternoon, and neither of their names you ever got.

“Guys, this is YN,” San introduces you and you give a little wave as they chorus your name with ‘hi’s. “This is Wooyoung, and that’s Yunho.” He points to the bartender and the farmer respectively.

“Good to finally get your name,” Yunho smiles at you, a bright smile lighting up his face. “You’ve been shopping with me for what, two weeks now?”

You laugh awkwardly. “Yeah, just about.” You silently beg for the topic to change because San is sensitive about how you buy groceries elsewhere since a storm destroyed most of the farm’s crops. “What does one do at the flower festival?”

Wooyoung and Yunho exchange a glance between each other, their eyes soft. “Generally couples sit together and watch the flowers fall and talk about each other. At the end, you pick up a blossom and blow it after making a wish,” Yunho explains, the corner of his lips pulling up as Wooyoung leans into his body. “I’m here with Wooyoung.”

He immediately realises this is not the best thing to say as your face heats up and your brain immediately goes into overdrive. “You don’t have to be in a romantic relationship to go, of course!” San immediately rectifies, his hands shooting out to smack Yunho in the shoulder. “I always go with friends.”

A smile pulls at your lips even though you’re still a little awkward at the revelation. “Well, thank you for inviting me anyway,” you bow slightly. “It’s nice to get a little scenery difference.”

Wooyoung laughs at that. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve seen you away from the farm since you arrived, barring your visits to Marimba and Horn Ranches.” You duck your head shyly and San swoops to your rescue.

“Not that you’re any better, Wooyoung. All you do is work and go home to sleep,” San teases. “Except when Yunho makes you go outside, of course.”

Both Wooyoung and Yunho immediately blush red and you laugh at the sight. “You two are cute together though,” you compliment. “Hopefully one day I can have a relationship like yours.” You miss the soft gaze sent your way by San, but neither Wooyoung nor Yunho do and they exchange a look before smiling back at you.

“I’m sure you will one day.”

-

It’s pouring buckets out there and even San has taken the day off. There’s nothing to do on the farm other than feed the animals, and the day before San had put extra food in their buckets for that occasion exactly. Mr Takeru is fast asleep and all you’re doing is sitting in the living room and trying to focus on reading. But it’s not coming to you.

With a sigh, you put your book back down and move to stand near the window, staring at the bleary landscape. That’s when you see it. A little glimmer of light right by the bending tomato plants. You narrow your eyes, unsure if your eyes are playing tricks on you, but then it happens again. Now you’re sure something is out there, and against your better judgement, you’re going to find out what it is.

With another glance towards Mr Takeru, who doesn’t seem to be waking up anytime soon, you pull on a raincoat and open the front door. The wind almost slams it shut but you catch it just in time, slipping out of the house and closing it gently instead.

The wind is practically bullying you as you make your way slowly over to the garden. When you finally reach the plants, you squint but can’t seem to find anything, but you swear you saw something. Your eyes dart around to see if you can find it again, and another sparkle catches your eye further down the road.

You cast a glance back at the house, inner debate raging in you. But at heart, you’re forever a toddler and you go chase after the pretty lights.

The farther you go, the more you’re starting to regret your choices. But you’re too far to find your way back—although you’ve been here for almost a month now, you’re not all that well-versed in where things are around this island. Yet another point into why you should’ve just stayed at the farm.

With a groan, you take another step closer, making your way through a tunnel of trees. The rain only seems to get heavier but you can still see the faint sparkling but not much around it and you step closer.

Suddenly, the rain melts away to reveal a little grove and a giant tree standing tall and proud. The only thing that tells you were just in the rain is the fact that you’re soaking wet. You blink, step back, and the rain falls around you again. Another step forward, and the sun is shining again.

You rub your eyes, sure you must be going crazy. But the sunny area is still in front of your eyes. As much as your brain is screaming at you to turn back and make your way home, your curiosity gets the better of you. You take a few steps closer, marvelling at the old spring on either side of the stone pathway you’re on.

You’ve heard of the stories of the fae and magic surrounding this island, mostly from Mr Takeru himself, but you always chalked it up to him being old, as much as you thought it would be nice for it to be real. And here you are, standing in the middle of what can only be called magic surrounding you.

The area looks almost unoccupied, with more of the sparkles that drew you out of the house in the first place flitting around. You take a couple of steps closer when someone steps out from behind the tree. “What are you doing here?” You don’t recognise the figure standing in front of you, with perfectly coiffed hair and a frown upon his pouting lips.

You blink at him. “Uh, I was taking a walk and ended up here. What is this place?”

The blonde man blinks at you. “You don’t know? It’s the Goddess Spring, home of the tree that powers our island. Though…I guess you are new here.”

You frown, cocking your head. “Sorry if I seem rude, but I don’t think I’ve met you. Who are you?”

The stranger’s piercing blue eyes widen and he laughs, waving his hands. “Oh my, I can’t believe I forgot my manners. I’m Park Seonghwa, son of the mayor of this little island. My father speaks highly of you and how well you care for Mr Takeru.”

His hand is firm and warm although his palms are softer than San’s. “Nice to meet you, Seonghwa,” you smile at him warmly. “Your father speaks proudly of you as well.”

You can’t believe you haven’t made the connection. Seonghwa isn’t the spitting image of his father per se, but they look similar enough to each other, especially in their eyes. Mayor Gil and Seonghwa both have the same stare.

The young man smiles again, shaking his head. “My father can be passionate. Now that he’s older, he tells me he has less grievances against the world. But I am curious—what are you doing here? It’s still pouring out there.”

You shrug, a little embarrassed. “I was just following some…uh…sparkles.”

“Sparkles? Nothing else?” Seonghwa’s facial expression shifts to one of curiosity. Your eyebrows furrow at his intensity and his features soften as he chuckles. “Ah, I don’t mean to alarm you. This island has a rich history behind this little grove. Are you busy?”

You shrug, glancing behind you. “No, not really. I’m not really in the mood to walk all the way back to the farm in the rain. I’m a big history fan anyway.”

Seonghwa shrugs, gesturing to the stone bench up further on the stone pathway. “Come and sit then. The story starts with this tree.”

To be honest, you don’t understand much of what Seonghwa explains. Something about bells and trees powering the island, and how only the line of mayors and Mr Takeru’s family can see the magic. But Seonghwa seems so passionate about it, and you have no reason to disbelieve it, not when you’ve witnessed the grove itself, so you just smile and nod and do your best to comprehend.

Seonghwa is finishing up his story of how Mr Takeru single-handedly revived the island when he takes a glance at his watch and gasps. “I’ve kept you far too long,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I’m sure the rain has stopped, you should make your way back to the farm before it gets dark.”

Your brows furrow, glancing up to see the sun getting close to the west. “Oh, crap,” you gasp, “I need to start dinner. Do…do you happen to know the way back to the farm? I didn’t quite see how I got here.”

Seonghwa chuckles. “Yes, you can just take a left out here and follow the path down the mountain. It should lead you to the pond right by Aria Farm. I’ll see you around town, then.”

You nod, promising him to try and find time to visit him in town before booking your way out of the grove. He was right, the rain had slowed to a drizzle that hardly bothered you. You’re making your way down the mountain, rushing so much you can hardly enjoy the view you missed on your way up.

As soon as the blue roof of the farmhouse comes into vision, you can’t help but smile to yourself at the familiar sight. Your little adventure was fun but now it’s time to go back. As you unlock the door and swing it open, your vision is immediately blocked by a firm, warm chest and strong arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. “YN, where were you?”

San’s worried voice reaches your ears and your initial shock wears off as you tilt your head back to look at him. “I went on a walk and found some grove near the mountains,” you explain honestly, and San’s eyebrows raise into his bangs.

“A walk? YN, are you insane? I came around to make sure you both were okay and Mr Takeru told me he didn’t know where you had gone. It was a crazy storm out there too. You have to be careful, YN. I– you could’ve gotten hurt.”

San’s arms tighten around your shoulders and your face heats up as you pat his back awkwardly. “Well, I agree it was pretty stupid of me, but I’m fine and here! I won’t do it again, I promise,” you try and cheer him up while also doing your best to wriggle out of his grip. It’s embarrassing for you to be so close, you’re sure he can feel the heat radiating off of your ears. He’s too hot for you to be this close to and you need some space before you combust.

You finally manage to untangle yourself, offering a smile to ease the distance between the two. “How long were you waiting for me, anyway?”

San sighs, running a hand through his dark locks. “Maybe just about three hours? I think I was about ten minutes away from going out to look for you myself. I mean, the rain only stopped an hour ago, it’s understandable I was worried.”

He’s trying to convince himself more so than you, but you can’t really blame him. You would’ve been the same way in his shoes. You try not to think about what would happen if he had suddenly disappeared in the rain. “No, I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you,” you shake your head, glancing away in guilt. “I just thought something was out there and went on a wild goose chase. Turns out it was just my eyes playing tricks on me. But in the grove I went to, I finally met the mayor’s son.”

San’s expression shifts to one of understanding. “Seonghwa? He’s nice, I’m glad you’ve met him.” He finally smiles back, softly, but shakes his head as if remembering where he is. “Er, I suppose I should let you go have dinner now. You must be hungry.”

He slips out of the door before you can even respond, the thought of inviting him for dinner only popping into your head as he’s already halfway down to the river, his form glowing gold in the sunset. You poke your head out to call for him, but your nerves get the better of you and you just watch him grow smaller and smaller in the distance.

“You should go for it.” A hoarse voice interrupts your swirling thoughts and you turn back to see Mr Takeru leaning on his cane and smiling kindly at you. “You’re young, and pretty. Anyone can see clear as day that San likes you. You know, he was quite worried when you were out.”

You swear there is steam radiating off of your face. “Ah, Mr Takeru, don’t get my hopes up,” you laugh. “There’s no way San sees me as much more than a friend. Now, let’s get dinner started, no?”

Mr Takeru just sighs, a melancholy smile on his face. “You should run right after him before it’s too late, you know. But yes, let’s have dinner YN.”

-

You stand in front of the door of the mayor’s house, debating whether to walk in or not. When you received an invitation for lunch from Seonghwa earlier this morning, he had assured you that you could walk right in without knocking, but you felt a little too awkward to do that.

“What are you doing here?” A sharp voice startles you and you jump, looking over your shoulder guiltily. A silver-haired man with sharp eyes and thick robes gazes at you with an uninterested expression on his face.

“Ah– Seonghwa invited me for lunch here,” you explain, glancing back at the door.

Before you can say anything, the strange, eccentric man brushes past you, the many bracelets and necklaces he has on jingling. “Well, then. He’s up to one of his schemes to get me to socialise again. He invited me for lunch too. Come on in.”

He swings the door open, stepping inside the house and you stare at him with wide eyes before scurrying after him. The outside of the house is filled with flowers lining the stepping stones, but the inside of the house is more mature in decor, with dark oak tables and brown wallpaper. The stranger glances at you, having noticed your eyes wandering the decor and he laughs shortly. “Quite the juxtaposition of interior and exterior, no? Mayor Gil’s late mother had designed the inside and so the mayor hasn’t had the heart to change it.”

You’re about to respond when one of the doors to your right slams open, revealing Seonghwa standing there with messy hair and a sullen look on his face. “Sorry, I’m going to have to cancel lunch. My father has fallen ill with cow fever. YN, I’m so sorry to have to turn you away but I don’t want you to catch it, or Mr Takeru for that matter.” He heaves a sigh, then turns to the stranger. “Hongjoong, could you do me a favour and bring me some medicine?”

The man—Hongjoong—nods sharply and spins on his heel, striding out the door without a moment’s hesitation. You falter just a moment, shooting Seonghwa a quick smile and ‘hope your father feels better soon’ before following Hongjoong’s steps out the door.

On your way home, you can’t help but wonder…what on earth is cow fever? You’ve never heard of such a thing. You’re too lost in thought you almost don’t see San waving at you from afar. “Ah, hey San!” you greet him with a quick wave and a smile. “Did you have lunch yet?”

A shrug is your answer and you laugh at San’s nonchalance. “Nah, I was just about to head out for some, though. How was your lunch?”

You shake your head. “It had to be cancelled. Mayor Gil came down with the cow fever, so we decided to reschedule.”

A pout forms on San’s face. “Well, I hope he gets better. Cow fever is no joke. But hey, since you didn’t have lunch, would you like to join me?”

Although it would mean you’d have to walk back to town, you can’t say ‘no’ to the smile on San’s face. “Sure, I’d be happy to,” you grin. “Inn? Do you want to get sandwiches and eat on the dock?”

The smile on San’s face widens. “It’s almost like you’re reading my mind. Let’s eat on the dock.”

Without another word, he hooks his arm around yours and pulls you in the direction of the barn. “Ah– San, the town is the other way, you know.”

San laughs again, loud and bright. “Yeah, I know. We’ll take Emma.”

It takes a moment to register. “The cow? San, are you crazy?” you gasp, but there’s still a giggle present in your tone. “First, we have a horse. Second, I don’t even know how to ride a horse, much less a cow!”

“That doesn’t matter,” San grins impossibly wider, his dimples deep. “Emma’s sweet, she’s an easier ride than Princess. Plus, I want Princess to have some more bonding time with her foal. Come on, I promise it’ll be fun.”

You groan good-naturedly but can’t keep the smile off your face as the two of you approach the well-mannered cow. “Fine,” you agree. “How do I get on?”

Instead of answering your question like a normal human being, San places his hands on your waist. For a moment, you’re lost in his firm grip, but it doesn’t last long as he lifts you and places you on Emma’s back, a shriek emitting from your mouth. “San!” you laugh, looking down to see San’s eyes crinkling as he chuckles and pats your thigh. “Warn me next time!”

“So there’ll be a next time?”

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing,” you scold lightly, turning away so he won’t see your flushing cheeks. “Come on, let’s go. I’m hungry.”

You can hear San laugh to himself one more time before hopping up behind you and wrapping an arm around your waist. Immediately, your mind is taken back to that rainy day almost a month ago when he hugged you and your cheeks burn even more. “Hold on tight,” San hums, leaning forward till his lips are right by your ear.

And once again, he doesn’t give you time to mentally prepare before Emma runs down the path towards the town. You’re terrified, hands gripping so tightly on San’s that you’re sure your nails will leave indents. But somehow, you’re enjoying yourself taking a wild ride on a cow of all things. Maybe it helps that San’s body is pressed against yours and you can feel the heat radiating off him.

You’re practically in a daze when you reach the town, San lifting you off Emma much more gently than when he put you on her. “You good?” he asks, and you snort, shaking your head fondly.

“God, I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe you made me do that. But yes, I’m good. More than good, even. That was fun.” You chuckle mostly to yourself, brushing your hair out of your eyes. “Come on, let’s eat.”

It’s your turn to grab San’s warm hand and pull him in the direction of the inn, the little bell tinkling as you step inside. Mai smiles at the two of you, waving you both over to her station. “Hello, you two. Looking for some lunch this fine morning?”

“Yep,” San leans on the counter with his elbow, ignoring the glare the head chef, Chihaya, sends him. Mai hides her smile extremely badly. “Could I get the tuna sandwich? And whatever YN’s getting.”

Your head snaps towards him. “Oh, no, no, San, don’t worry about it. I can pay for my own,” you decline as quickly as you can, but he raises an eyebrow in response.

“It’s my treat, YN. Don’t fight me on this, I’ll win. I invited you out, so it’s only right I pay.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “But–”

“No buts, okay? Don’t worry, I’m perfectly capable of paying for the both of us. Let me do this, YN. Just order, okay?” San holds up a hand, and you know he’s won.

With a sigh, you concede. “Fine. But next time, I’ll pay, and no buts.” San raises his hands in defeat. Satisfied, you turn back to Mai. “Could I get an egg sandwich?”

Mai chuckles, writing down your order in her little notebook. “It’s cute to see you two together. Poor San has been lonely for a long time.”

“We’re not dating,” you quickly correct her, face heating up in embarrassment.

“And I’m not lonely!” San interjects, pout on his face, and his cuteness in that moment makes you forget how awkward you were about Mai’s statement.

“Okay,” Mai chirps, clearly disbelieving the two of you, but before you can refute any longer, Chihaya stalks over, handing the two of you nicely wrapped sandwiches.

“Mai, stop bothering them. You two, go eat. See you later,” he shuts down the conversation, waving the two of you away.

Both San and you exchange a look before quickly leaving the inn, Mai’s sweet giggles trailing behind the two of you until the door shuts behind you. “Well then. Dock?”

You snort, nodding. “Dock.”

You skip your way through town to the dock, empty aside from the local fisherman about to head inside for his own lunch break. The wind isn’t too harsh today, something you appreciate so that the sea’s waves don’t get close to your feet. Neither you nor San feel the need to talk as you work through your lunches, the food delicious enough to keep your mouths occupied.

You finish your sandwich much earlier than San, leaning back on your arms as you sneak a peek at his side profile while he continues to eat, unaware. Something about his focused gaze on his sandwich seems to draw your gaze. As you wait, you can’t help but think back to Mai’s words, unable to keep your mind from daydreaming about Choi San.

Ever since that fateful day in the rain, the hug he had given you keeps popping up in your mind at the most inopportune times…like right now. You can already feel heat rising to your face once again and you quickly focus your eyes on the horizon to do your best to rid yourself of such thoughts.

You can’t afford to like San, not like that. Not when you have no idea what you’re going to do after this job, or even where you’ll go. This little island feels more like home than the big city did, but you don’t know where your life could fit in here. Not when it feels like everyone already has their place in the town.

“What are you thinking about?” You blink yourself back to reality, where San has finished his sandwich and is looking at you with such a fond look in his eyes. “You look lost in your head.”

You shrug, bringing your legs up to your chest and resting your chin on your knees. “I don’t know…” you murmur, a melancholy smile playing on your lips. “Just the future, I guess. What I’ll do later.”

San hums, his hand coming to rest close to your own, and you push back thoughts of grasping his worn, warm palm. “I get it. Before I started working for Mr Takeru, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do either. I bounced from ranch to ranch, even started over at Marimba Farm for a time until Mr Takeru offered me a job.”

“Is that where you met Yunho?”

At your question, San chuckles. “Yeah. He hired me at Marimba when it was first starting out, then recommended me to Mr Takeru after he was able to manage it with the help of Wooyoung. Yunho is one of my oldest friends here.”

“It must be nice to have that close of a friend,” you state, more to yourself than anything, but San hears you anyway, his brows furrowing with light concern. “Say…who’s Hongjoong? I met him briefly at Seonghwa’s before I had to go home. I’ve never seen him around before.”

San hums, tilting his head so he can look into your eyes more clearly. You fight to keep the blush of your cheeks. “Hongjoong runs the clinic, and does fortune telling on the side. He’s descended from a long line of wizards, and his paternal family has run the clinic for a very long time. Why?”

You shrug. “I heard something about him getting medicine for Mayor Gil. Thought it might be interesting to talk to him about the island’s medical practices. Since I’m a nurse and all.” You laugh, shaking your head. “Maybe I’m a little curious too. He dresses nothing like the other islanders.”

San chuckles alongside you. “His robes are the traditional wear for the wizards of this island. He does quite enjoy talking about the history behind them, so you should ask him about it some time. Any other trivia I can answer for you?”

His tone is light, teasing, and you snort and shove at his shoulder. “Shut up, can’t a girl be curious? I get it, you don’t like me.”

“You and I both know that’s the furthest thing from true.” San shakes his head, and you freeze, aware of what he’s implying.

“San–” You’re unsure of what to say. “I’m–”

“You don’t have to say anything,” San laughs, leaning in to tap his forehead against yours. “Not right now, at least. I’ll give you time to think about it. Now come on, let’s get back to the farm.”

Before you can blink, he’s already on his feet and holding out a hand to help you stand. After a moment's hesitation, you reach out as well, placing your hand in his. As he pulls you up, he leans forward to press his lips against the side of your head and you duck your head, heat rushing to your face.

The walk home is silent, but not uncomfortably so. Instead of riding Emma back, San lets her amble along the path on her own. You walk side by side, fingertips not quite brushing, stealing glances at each other and soft smiles. Maybe it's because he finally put words to what the two of you have, but you can’t help but wonder exactly why both of you are suddenly so open with how much you care for each other.

As he walks you to the front door of the farmhouse, he clears his throat, obviously wanting to say something. You turn to him expectantly, taking note of the nervousness in his eyes. “YN…” he mumbles, a far cry from the confident man he was on the dock. “No matter how you end up feeling, please don’t leave the island because of it. Everyone here likes you, even though you don’t really know them well. And Mr Takeru is terribly fond of you. Don’t let me influence your life too much, okay?”

You sigh, body visibly relaxing. “Of course not, San. I’ve grown to love it here. I don’t think even you can keep me away.”

San chuckles at your feeble attempt at a joke, out of pity, you think. “Okay, okay. Have a good day, YN.”

You close the door behind you, smiling to yourself subconsciously. “Miss YN, is that you?” Mr Takeru calls out, and you shake your head, willing your brain to clear up before quickly making your way to your employer.

“I’m here, Mr Takeru!”

-

You awkwardly stand at the bar, waiting for Wooyoung to finish up with a customer. The bar is the last place you would usually be, but you’re at a loss. San’s words have been replaying in your head since that fateful day on the dock, and you haven't spoken to him since. Not that he’s bothered by it. True to his word, San had been giving you space, only exchanging soft, sweet, ‘good morning’s and gentle smiles.

As each day passed, you knew what your answer would be, but then a letter arrived today from your agency back home. A reminder your contract was almost up. You knew you had to make a decision, fast.

“All right, what’s going on in your head, missy?” Wooyoung’s voice breaks you out of your swirling thoughts. “You look like you’re about to be sick, and I don’t want to have to take you to the doctor’s.”

You open your mouth, close it again, and then reopen. “Wooyoung, do you know if the clinic has any job openings?”

Wooyoung furrows his brow, frowning. “Well, you’ve picked the worst person to ask this question to. I’ve never gone to the clinic before, and Hongjoong never comes in here. But they might. Hongjoong’s grandfather recently retired, so as Mr Van takes his role, there might be a job opening soon. I think Mao was thinking about volunteering there, though. You’d have to talk to Hongjoong about it. Why?”

You hesitate, eyes moving from side to side. No one is close enough to hear you over the music. “Did San talk to you at all in the past week?”

Understanding dawns in Wooyoung’s eyes. “Ah. He told us what happened, but let me hear what you think of it. All our regulars are here already so I won't have to make any more drinks for a while.”

A sigh makes its way out of your throat. “My contract with Mr Takeru is ending soon. The easy answer is to renew, but what about after that? I don’t know where I could work, other than the hospital, and if Mao wants to work there, I don’t want to take that opportunity away from him.”

Wooyoung laughs. “I said he would volunteer, not work. He’s the fisherman’s son, the sea is in his blood. But even if you don’t work at the clinic, San would probably be happy to support you until you find something.”

You shake your head tiredly. “But I don’t want him to. He already works so hard, and I don’t want to make him feel obligated to help me, not when I’m capable of supporting myself and it’s just me overthinking.”

There’s a pause, and then Wooyoung dissolves into laughter. “YN, he would be helping you because he wants to. Hell, any of us would be willing to help you. Yunho could use someone to help him on his own farm, I’m sure Seonghwa would like to have a secretary, hell, I could use you as a server. You’re worrying too much about it. Things will work out if you want them to.”

You wince. “I know, I know. I just worry, you know.”

“Well, don’t,” Wooyoung teases. “Just talk to San. He’ll understand.”

“As always, your advice is impeccable,” you smile. “Thanks, Wooyoung, really.”

“It’s what I do,” Wooyoung winks, sliding a glass over. “Have a drink before you go, okay? I’m not getting paid to gossip, you know.”

You squint at him. “Don’t you own this bar?” All Wooyoung does is smile knowingly and nod towards the cup of…something. You take a tentative sip, and then another, and then it hits. The sweet but tangy flavour with a hint of bitterness from the alcohol. “Oh, this is good! What is it?”

“Raspberry cocktail,” he answers, way too proud of his creation. “I perfected the recipe today, as well as a few others. You should try those ones too.”

You laugh, downing the rest of your drink. “Sure, sure, go ahead. I’m almost never here anyway.”

Wooyoung practically vibrates in excitement, moving around the kitchen in a dash to prepare your next drink. You’re on your third drink and too busy laughing at Wooyoung’s antics to notice the presence behind you. When Wooyoung slides you your next drink, you ask, “Which one is this?”

“This one is your last drink,” a firm voice speaks up and you snap your head around, startled, to come face to face with San. “You still have work tomorrow, YN, you can't get too drunk.”

“Hey, Sanah,” you beam up at him, unbothered by his close proximity. You blame it on the alcohol. His eyes soften as he looks down at you, a smile tugging at his lips. “I was just talking about you!”

“Oh, were you?” San leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. “All good, I hope. Come on, finish your drink and let’s get you home.”

Without much further prompting, you down the rest of your drink and wave at Wooyoung, who is watching the two of you with an amused expression plastered on his face. “Bye, now,” he sing-songs, “get home safe.”

San rolls his eyes good naturedly, nodding at Wooyoung and sliding some money over to pay for your few drinks. “Have a good night, Youngah.” He wraps an arm around your shoulders, helping you stand and pulling you out of the inn. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

You hum, turning your head to press your face into his shoulder. “I dunno,” you mumble into him, breathing in the smell of his soap. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do if I end up out of a job. You’re too perfect, I can’t drag you down.” You don’t mean to say all this, but the alcohol is still coursing through your system and the courage still sits in your stomach.

San intakes a sharp breath. “What do you mean by that?”

You shrug. “You have a job, a life here. I’m here temporarily. When my contract ends next month, what am I supposed to do? I don’t want to go back to the city and leave you here, but I don’t have any idea what I’m supposed to do here.”

San sighs, letting his head sit atop yours, his cheek pressed against your hair. “Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I wouldn’t mind if you went back to the city if you visited. I wouldn’t mind if you stayed with me until you get back on your feet if you decide to end your contract. Hell, I’m sure Mr Takeru would be happy to employ you on his own dime, or someone else in town would take you on. But I’m glad you came to me, okay? I want to help you.”

You can feel your eyes stinging, and you curse yourself for drinking so much that it makes you too emotional for your liking. “Okay,” you concede with a soft voice. “Thank you, San.”

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Of course, YN,” he smiles, and although you can’t see it, you hear it in his voice. “Now let’s talk later, okay? You need to go to bed.”

“Later sounds good,” you sigh, letting your body weight lean even more against San’s broad shoulders. “See you later.”

“Not right now,” San chuckles. “We’re almost home, come on. As much as it’s safe on the island, it’s chilly tonight, and I think you’d probably prefer sleeping in a bed.”

“Hmm, bed,” you repeat, yawning. “I like the idea.”

“I’m sure you do.”

The rest of the night is mostly calm, save for San convincing you to go to the bathroom to change, and not undressing in front of him. As he helps you brush your hair as you sit on your bed, you can’t help but to reach up and put your hands on his waist.

“You know, I really like you,” you mumble. The alcohol has almost faded, but the tiredness has hit and you’re just as loopy as if you were still drunk. “I hope you know that.”

San chuckles, his hands slowing to a stop in your hair. “I do, YN. I do.” He leans down, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.”

He turns to leave, but not until you grab his wrist. “Wait! What about here?” you pout, pointing to your lips, and San arches an eyebrow, a smile toying at the corners of his lips and a laugh threatening to escape.

“Maybe tomorrow, if you ask me, okay? Good night, YN.” And with that, he leaves you to sleep, a smile plastered onto your face as you dream of his touch.

When you reawaken, you feel fully rested, yawning as you slip out of bed quickly and easily. A quick glance at your clock tells you it’s almost noon and you curse yourself for drinking so heavily. You’re never letting Wooyoung talk you into such a thing again.

As you make your way out of your room, you find Mr Takeru sitting on the couch. “Miss YN, come sit with me, okay? I want to talk to you.”

You pause, heart freezing. “Ah– sure, Mr Takeru. Nothing bad, I hope.”

The older man chuckles, waving his hand. “Of course not. This is something both Wooyoung and San have come to me about.”

You blink. “Ah.” You’re going to kill Wooyoung, and think about killing San (You’re too attached to him to follow though).

Mr Takeru laughs again. “I said it wasn’t bad, child, don’t look like you’re about to faint, please. San had expressed his affection for you to me, and Wooyoung has talked about how, in his words, ‘both of them are dumb as rocks and won’t date yet’. I’m quite aware that your contract with me is ending soon.” He pauses to take in a breath. “I would like to offer you a job with me off contract. That means you won’t be with your agency anymore.”

You blink at him. “I…I’m sorry, it’s a lovely offer, and I’m quite inclined to take it, but can I ask why? I mean, it would be cheaper for you to hire from the agency, and I’m sure I could figure something else out.”

“Miss YN, I’m sure you’re well aware I am not in much need of money. San runs the farm beautifully, and even though he is paid generously, the earnings far exceed what I need. And, as I have talked to Mayor Gil, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong, the clinic is happy to contract you so that in the case that I no longer require your services, you may work with them.”

You blink at him, your lower lip quivering. It takes you a moment to compose yourself, and Mr Takeru waits patiently. “The offer is so generous, and I would be a fool to decline it. I really do appreciate it, Mr Takeru.”

Your boss smiles. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Think of it as a favour to San as well. He’s worked for me for so long, he’s like one of my own grandchildren.” He pauses, letting out a yawn. “Now, go find him and tell him the good news, okay? I’d like to take a long nap.”

With a moment to compose yourself, you stand from the couch. “Thank you again, Mr Takeru,” you repeat sincerely. “I’ll prep lunch and put it in the fridge for when you wake up, okay?”

He waves you away, already getting ready to lay down on the couch. “Don’t worry about it. Mayor Gil is coming around to have lunch with me, and he’ll bring me something from the inn.” With another yawn, you know your conversation is over, and you spin on your heel and race out of the house, only one thing on your mind.

“San, are you in here?” you call out as you reach the ajar barn doors. “I need to talk to you.”

“I’ll be right down, just filling up the dispenser.” You can hear San’s voice from the loft and you look up, squinting through the sunrays filtering through the holes in the roof. The carpenters have been working on fixing that before the next rain.

Your gaze is drawn away by San climbing down the ladder, an extra bale of hay perched on his shoulders. As he turns around and you catch a glimpse of his face, your breath catches in your throat.

There wasn't ever a time where you thought sweat and grime on a person could be attractive…at least until right at this very moment. Sweat is glistening on his face, dripping off his cheekbones and chin, and all you can think about is swiping your tongue over his lips to taste it. The sight of it only serves to remind you of your drunken request to San, and his one condition that you ask him about it the next day.

“YN? Is there something you wanted to ask me?”

You blink up at him, eyes wide. “Can I get my kiss now?”

That was not what was supposed to come out of your mouth, but it’s too late to rectify it, so you’re left looking up at a dumbfounded San. The silence goes on for just a tad too long and you’re too embarrassed to face him now, so you turn on your heel and start to exit the barn, hopefully to drown your sorrows and yourself in the hot spring.

Before you can even step foot onto the threshold, however, San grabs your arm and gently tugs you into his warm chest. “Now wait just a moment,” he hums, chest vibrating against your back. His smell fills your mind and you tilt your gaze up to see him looking right back at you with such warmth in his eyes. “I didn’t give you your kiss yet.”

“Oh–” is all you manage to squeak out before San’s lips are on yours and you immediately melt into the kiss. His arm pulls you even closer against his body, his lips soft and inviting. “San–”

He doesn’t give you a moment to speak, his mouth capturing every sound escaping past your lips. You can feel every breath against your lips, his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips. Slowly, you part your lips for him and he wastes no time to map out your mouth, taking the air out of your lungs at how desperately he kisses.

As you fall deeper into his embrace, your arms come to loop around his waist, resting by his hips as your hands grip onto his shirt. His own hands roam up and down your sides, gripping at your waist and keeping you pulled against him. One of them finds its way to your face, cupping it with a gentleness that rivals the roughness of his mouth.

You could stay here like this for hours, but your lungs disagree, and after they scream at you for some air, you finally pull away, gasping softly as you lean your forehead against San’s. “San,” you call his name again, although this time your words aren’t interrupted by his lips but your lack of air. You take in one more breath, San waiting patiently as he looks at you like you put the stars in the sky yourself. “San, I like you. And I’m sure I’m just stating the obvious, but again, I do. I want to stay here with you, and just this morning Mr Takeru has offered me a personal contract with him. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

San laughs, his hand on your waist moving up to stroke your cheek. “I know, YN. I asked Mr Takeru to make you the offer. Or, to be more precise, I implied that he should make you the offer, and I did that because Wooyoung implied to me to do that.” He tilts his head to press a short and sweet kiss to your lips again, chuckling to himself at how you follow his lips when he pulls back.

“Of course he did,” you roll your eyes good-naturedly, nodding as you lean up on your tiptoes to try and steal another kiss. “Nothing will ever be kept secret with his big mouth. Can we go back to kissing now? It’s easier.”

You can practically see the eagerness shine to San’s eyes. Instead of an answer, he tilts his head down to meet your waiting lips. This time, though, your makeout session is sadly cut short.

“So you two are finally together?”

You’re not too embarrassed to admit you shrieked, jumping out of your skin and burying your face in San’s chest. You can hear both San and Seonghwa chuckle, San’s arm tightening around your body. “Thanks to you, Seonghwa,” San hums. “We both really appreciate your role in this.”

“It’s no problem whatsoever. And as surly as Hongjoong can be, he’s happy to have someone else on board. But I’ll let you two get back to…talking. I was just passing through to have lunch with the jeweller. Have a good day, you two.” With a wave that you see out of the corner of your eye, Seonghwa leaves.

“I’m never going back to the town hall again,” you mumble against San’s shirt. “I can’t face Seonghwa again.”

San rubs your back with a comforting hand, although you can feel his chest rumble with quiet laughter. “I’m sure he understands, YN. Plus, look on the bright side. At least he didn’t walk in on a more intimate moment.”

Your head snaps up, heat blooming in your cheeks as you slap his shoulder. “San! We’re in the barn!”

A smirk is the only warning you get before San wraps both his arms around you and hoists you into the air, ignoring your squeal. “My house is just across the creek, you know. We don’t have to be in the barn.” You swear he can see how flustered you are just by your expression, and it only seems to egg him on. His one hand moves down to hold you up by your thighs, and you don’t think your face could get any hotter. “Shall we celebrate?”

“San–” you start to decline, but then you pause, casting a glance over your shoulder. Seeonghwa is long gone, and you’re sure Mr Takeru and the Mayor will be talking for a good few hours. “...All right. But put me down!”

Laughing, San happily sets you on your feet, leaning in to press his lips against yours again. “I really am glad you decided to stay, YN. Thank you for choosing me.”

“And if given the chance, I would choose you over and over San.” You smile up at him, reaching up to cup his face and pull him in for yet another kiss. Although the future seems uncertain, you’ll be happy to navigate it with him by your side.

[soullessdianthus]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 | 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐔

❗ APOLOGIES for the tag list in the comments, Tumblr has an issue with tagging more than 5 people ❗

Summary: Victorian AU where you are hired by Lord Simon Riley as his housekeeper in the secluded countryside. Besides the gardener - Johnny, you barely sees anyone around the house and the strange things begin to happen around you. The manor, or rather its residents, hides a terryfing secret.

AO3 link ⟶ 𝕏

A/N: Huge thanks to @starsexplodeatnight who was so kind and sweet to help me with the fashion aspects of this fic. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Also, won't lie, @ohbo-ohno's works and Ghoap dynamics inspired me to go back to the roots and to write some darker, gothic romance with Ghoap and Reader. At least I tried. ╮(￣▽￣"")╭

Warnings: dark themes, religious themes, dubcon/noncon (full list on Ao3)

Word count: 7.6k

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐄

Lord Riley’s house seemed to be alive at times. The wind sweeping through the draughty windows fills the lungs of the great manor. Old, wooden flooring creaks and the glass strain within its frames. 

You hated how untamed your imagination was especially after nightfall, when the darkness creeped in every hollow and corner of the manor. Since the first day, every night you would leave a single candle lit on the bedside table just to ease the vivid imaginations. When you were a child your mother scolded you about reading such profanities about ghosts and curses. 

And now you knew why. If the candle wasn't lit, strange figures danced in the shadows, their eyes imprinting into your skin and if were they real, would they try to hurt you or rather warn you?

But now, as a grown up woman, those nightmares of your childhood came back to haunt you once again. 

With all of your heart you were grateful for Sir Jonathan Price, a friend of your family, who helped you get into Lord Riley’s favour. It was him who wrote a letter of recommendation to make it easier for you to find a good, suitable job as a woman of your status. 

But he didn’t mention once that the manor was so far from civilization. 

Johnny quickly became your closest confidant around here. A Scottish gardener whose brown hair reached down to his broad shoulders and sparkly eyes in the colour of clear sky. He took care of the gardens as well as master’s horses and sometimes you could find him repairing a fence or something of sort. Johnny was a hardworking man, only a few years older than you, but he was also gentle, clever and jolly.

Such an opposite to Lord Simon who was everything but what Scot was – silent, harsh former lieutenant who would rather spend his time in the solitude of his chambers. Otherwise he would go on a ride or hunt into the forest on one of his favourite studs. Simon’s face was pale as a ghost’s and covered with shallow scars, remnants of his service in the army. 

Nonetheless, the tall, portly man seemed to enjoy your presence, if you dared to assume that, purely because you were quick to adapt. Lord liked his silence and you did not want to disturb your master’s peace, wouldn’t you? 

Within a week you have learned the following pattern – each day started with breakfast, which you ate alongside Lord, sporadically noticing the presence of busy cook, Kyle Garrick, who didn’t happen to talk much. Then, you would proceed with your everyday duties. Which did not include sneaking around to go and talk with the gardener, but nevertheless you did.  

And as the evening would finally come, you were sitting in the playroom of the manor embroidering while Mr. Riley was reading his book. Even Johnny was allowed to come sit with both of you, gnawing at the wooden pipe between his teeth. It all felt so domestic in such a short period of time. 

And how could you believe such gossip about Lord’s hospitality, or rather its lacking, hearsay in the city? 

Sundays were always a day of rest. You were sitting in your bedroom on the highest floor, reading one of the novels you brought from home. Too entertained with the story, you blindly reached for the cup of tea standing nearby. The noise of ceramic pot splattering across the floor caused you to tense immediately. 

It shattered to pieces. Such a waste, it was a pretty one. 

You closed the book with a sigh and set it aside, slowly walking towards a storage on this floor. With a small broom in your hand you returned to your room only to find it oddly… clean. The staining of spilled tea on the flooring was gone just as the bits of what was left of the floral cup. 

Almost like it never even happened. 

Your eyes wandered across the chamber, searching for the mess you just made. But every little trace of it was gone. You kneeled down and looked under each piece of furniture. Still, nothing was found, a broken teapot swallowed by the void.

Slowly you retracted from the room onto the long hallway, searching for the maids or signs of their presence. It must have been one of them, right?

— Hello? — You asked with hesitation in your voice, but there was no living soul to answer you back. Not nearby anyways. 

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈

Coos of the crows and rattle of their wings echoed through the old trees. And although the sky was grey and cloudy that day, no rain had yet fallen. Alongside Johnny, you went for an afternoon stroll down the borderline of the forest, enjoying a minute of break.

— How long have you been working for Lord Simon? 

— A couple of years now — the man reached down the wild grain growing on the field and plucked a single piece. He continued to play with it between his thick digits, brows narrowed as he reflected on his further answer. — He hired and gave me a roof over my head when I retired from service.

— You were a soldier too?

Johnny nodded with a simple “aye” and you smiled.

— What?

— Nothing. Didn’t think such a gentle gardener was once enlisted. 

— Yeah? Didn’t think a pretty lass like yourself would be so nosy. — He smacked the tip of your nose with the stalk he was holding. 

Your cheeks grew rosy and warm, when he paid you a compliment. Not that you were a prude! Actually far from that, but it was just that Johnny was so charming and he definitely knew how to sweet talk to a woman like you. 

— Not nosy, it’s considered rude — you explain to him, fidgeting with your fingers yet a smile is painted upon your face. — “Curious” I think suits me better. Those who spread gossip about others’ affairs and tragedies are the nosy ones. See, that’s the difference. 

Johnny stopped suddenly and took your hand into his palms. He held you gently, almost like you were made out of glass and he, with his admirable strength, could break you into pieces. What a great waste it would be to destroy such a pure soul. He leaned closer to your ear, warm breath tickling your sensitive skin and your heart almost jumped out of the ribcage. Should his closeness excite you so much? Should a grown woman be this rash?

— Only if we were seen by someone, here on the glade, alone. Scandalous — the man mocked such behaviours, while brushing a single strand of your hair behind the ear. — What would they think, hm? 

Before you took a step back, your gaze met his for a brief moment. There was a hint of curiosity and playfulness in his blue eyes. And perhaps something else, something much more obvious than you believed it was. 

Something that made men weak.

— Right, what would they say, Johnny? Who? — You asked him playfully, though your expression was full of sorrow. —  I barely see anyone around the house. I’m starting to believe those servants are some… ghouls living in the attic or they simply avert me so often. 

— Lord likes his peace, they work as if they weren’t there. Just as it needs to be. 

— It’s been some days now and I hadn’t met any of them. You’re the only person who actually talks to me. Don’t you get lonely there?

— Simon’s and your presence is enough for me. And well, it’s nice to talk to Mr. Garrick sometimes. 

— He talks to you? 

The cold breeze danced through your hair, causing you to shiver. Dry and brittle leaves crunched under your soles when the two of you continued to walk down the old pathway. 

— Autumn here is tough, lass, you should have worn a sweater. We should head back home, the nightfall is coming. 

You loathed the cold weather and how freezing the chambers got in the morning. Your first winter in England’s countryside might not be as pleasant as you thought it would be, with cold feet and no one in the manor to warm your spirit up. 

No peers, no guests, no neighbours. Just you, Johnny and Lord Riley.

You stood back in the middle of your quarter, looking at everything and anything at the same time. Each detail like a porcelain vase with flowers or lace tablecloth looked so neat, with no sign of dust it was almost impossible. Many questions were stacked inside of your head. 

Was your chamber cleaned every single day? If so, when did they do it? And why hadn't you even bumped into any of the servants of the manor? Yes, the building was large, but at some point you had to meet the staff, right? 

It has officially been two weeks since you moved to live and work here. Although using the word “work” was far-fetched. You hoped to become a governess to Lord Riley’s children, but that dream was quickly demolished as he had none. So then it was told that you were responsible for the house work, but there was no one to supervise as they were constantly hiding from you. So you were sitting there at the end of the day in a living room, chaperoning your Lord. This time without Johnny.

Fireplace was spitting long flames, popping ashes into the air. The interior was welcoming, when the wind behind the windows grew stronger. A storm was coming. 

— May I ask you a question, Sir? — You had put aside your embroidery set, before finally asking. The blonde man hummed, eyes still transfixed on the lecture he was reading. — How often do the maids come to my room?

— As often as needed. Why?

— I wanted to rearrange my quarters this morning, just to push the bed closer to the wall, but when I returned from the afternoon stroll, it was back in its primary place. 

— Then they fixed the furniture, didn’t they? 

You had a feeling that was not the case. You scratched the flooring during the first attempt, if the staff was to push the bed back to its origins, they would only do further damage. Yet, the wooden planks were brand as new. No signs of any scratches.

Were you hysterical? Was it all your vivid imagination?

— But it’s heavy, my Lord.

— And yet you managed to move it. So did they. 

Lord Riley was grumpy again, his voice hoarse and accent thick. 

You once again took the needle threaded with string into your fingers and returned to the unfinished piece, but the urge to continue pushing him was stronger. You might rather bite your tongue in the future. 

— Maybe I should talk with them and explain that I prefer it the other way. 

— I prefer when the rules of my household are followed. You wouldn’t have such an idea if you didn’t have so much free time.

Your hands dropped to your lap as you abruptly looked at him, slightly offended. And even though Lord tried to conceive this, you noticed how the edges of his lips twitched in a tiny smile. He was toying with you.

Simon was strict. Perhaps he never abandoned the military's rules and drills. He was an adamant man who valued his own comfort. That means, obeying his rules. 

— Come, I might have an idea how to keep you busy.

The Lord of the house rose from his seat. Each time you stood next to him, you were intimidated by his height and solid build. Despite being off duty, he kept his admirable physics of a Greek god. 

At least that is how the books you kept so dear to your heart described the brave warriors. 

You followed the master into his private library and patiently stood right behind him, when he was searching for a certain book. Finally he reached a thick tome in your direction – “A Mortal Immortal” by Mary Shelley. 

— Here, this may interest you — but when you stretched out to receive it, he moved the novel out of your reach. — Ah, ah. What do we say?

— Thank you. For borrowing me your book. 

— However, when I think about it, I’m worried this will only worsen your… troubled mind.

— My mind?

— Johnny told me you worry too much about some nonsense that should not be your priority in the first place. You’re letting this place and its solitude haunt you. Are you of a weak mind, girl? — You quickly understood what he was referring to, so to prove the point you denied the vile accusation. — So, I’d recommend you stop being childish and focus on your chores. Then everything will be alright, understood? 

— I’m not childish.

— Is that clear? — He repeated with much harsher tone.

You nodded slightly, barely visible, but enough to agree with the Lord.

— Now, go to your chamber, it’s getting late. 

His dark eyes carefully inspected your figure. You noticed him staring at your neckline for far too long than what was decent. His coarse hand swiped over yours when he was giving you the book. The cold metal of his signet felt like a thousand sharp stings. 

What kind of game was the Lord of Riley Manor playing with you? 

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈

The simmering sound of something powerful cracking snatched you from the peaceful dream. Every muscle in your body tensed and you sat up, holding the duvets tight when a thunder enlightened the black sky. Your heart beated fast within its cage of bones and breath shattered, anticipating.

Surely, thunderstorms can happen in late autumn, but you had never predicted it to happen this night. You felt uneasy, when another loud rumble made you scared. Then there was the banging window frame, somewhere in the long hallway and those horrible, horrible whistles of wind. They sound almost like human cries. 

At first you ducked down beneath the covers to shield yourself from the haunting sounds, thinking that the servants would take care of the open window. But minutes passed and they didn’t. 

With a lit candle on a metal holder you walked down the corridor, the flame being the only source of light. 

So when the wind coming through the window blew it off, you gasped loudly in panic – you barely saw your own hands in front of you!

— No, no, no…

You almost screamed when someone placed their hand upon your shoulder and then your mouth. A familiar figure was illuminated by another lighting. You could never mistake those blue eyes for another. 

— Shh, bonnie. It’s me — Johnny whispered, slowly uncovering your mouth. — I heard the fuss. You alright? 

— Actually, no… Did you hear those sounds?

Your hands squeezed the candle holder, when the gardener rushed to close the open window. You shivered, only a thin layer of nightgown covering your skin. You looked behind, checking if you were alone in the hallway. It certainly felt like you weren’t. It had to be the ghouls. 

— What sounds? 

— Howling, distressed cries? Wails? I-I heard them in my chamber. 

— You’re scared of the storms?

— No, that’s not-

— It’s okay to get spooked sometimes — he cut you off and grabbed your hand, slowly leading you back where you came from. — Come, let’s get you to your room.

— Oh, don’t belittle me. — You frowned upon him, yet you doubt he had seen it. You clung to his strong arm like a scared girl, not eager to get lost in the darkness again. 

— That was not my intention. Was just trying to comfort you.

When you finally reached your room, you couldn’t find the strength to let go of his hand. You interlocked your smooth and delicate fingers with his digits.

— Please, Johnny, don’t go. I’m… scared. 

— Of thunder? — He chuckled, petting the palm of your hand. 

— No, this place. Something is not right, please, I–

— It’s okay, you got scared a little, that’s all. You really want me to stay? 

You shuddered when taking a deep breath, calculating every possible consequence of this decision.

This was not right. 

— Yes.

When he stepped inside of the room, a rush of excitement flooded your veins and sank on the bottom of your stomach. Perhaps it was foolish and considered promiscuous inviting a man into your bedroom, but your body and heart desired otherwise. 

Johnny’s presence brought you comfort that you were longing for, his touch ascended your worries to the void and filled the troubled mind with pleasure. Nothing else.

Without a word spoken the two of you moved to the narrow, still warm bed and climbed under the sheets. Johnny captured your head between his hands and pulled in a gentle kiss on the lips. In his performance he was eager, sloppy yet charming. One of his palms gripped your hip through the crumpled material, just as you hooked one of your thighs over his hip. 

Foolish, foolish girl. 

— You’re so pretty — he whispered through the thick air as he pressed his forehead to yours. The curve of his nose filled your bridge as you looked at him from under your lashes. — The moment I first saw you getting out of the coach, that day you arrived, I knew I couldn’t ever let you go, bonnie.

Johnny swiftly moved on top of your lying form, holding that one thigh open. He continued the passionate assault on your lips, carefully rolling the hem of your nightgown up. 

Your body was on fire, everything inside of you screamed this was wrong, but somehow, the sinner inside of you called for him. For his touch, for his affection and his sweet, sweet nectar. 

Only when he started caressing your mound and its slit did you acknowledge where his hand wandered. And although his skin was rather tough  from all the years of hard work, his touch was gentle and surprisingly precise. You gasped lovely. It didn’t take that much of a hassle for him to make you wet and eager down there.

— Oh, Johnny… 

His name rolled off your tongue like honey, a music to his ears. It wasn’t long enough before he was grinding over your thigh with his excited and leaking length. 

— You are what we needed. A little warm sunshine, eh? 

Did you hear “we”?

But before you could ask him, he began stretching your cunt a little bit too carelessly to your liking. All his prudence was gone, as he got drunk on your scent and how you felt around him. Your hand gripped his bicep and your glossy eyes went wide like a scared doe. 

— Johnny, Johnny, slow — you breathed out through muffled whine and the man atop of you stilled. — Slow, please.

He could feel how your heart pumped within your veins. 

— I’m sorry, bonnie. Let me kiss it better — the gardener leaned down to pepper your face with kisses. And when he got to the sweet spot on your neck, you giggled — shh, we don’t want to wake him, don’t we? 

Obviously he meant Lord Simon. 

He set a steady yet bearable rhythm as his hips rolled into you in waves. His chest was close to yours, brushing sensitive nipples through the thin fabric of a nightgown. You were pushed into the cushioned pillow, hair splayed beneath like roots of the ancient tree. 

You felt so lightheaded yet so good at the same time. Sparkling, increasing sensation tickling the nerves and blinding the vision. Johnny was all you could experience in that moment. He was the only thing you could smell, touch and taste, when he was trying to steal the air from your lungs. You fell into the abyss of pleasure quickly, all the latest worries fading away.

And the horribly loud storm? Didn’t matter at that moment. All thunders quietened down and the entire world could be burning in flames and ashes, but you wouldn’t even notice. 

The man moaned deeply from his throat, when he got closer to his peak, hips frantically snapping against yours. You barely managed to entangle your shaking fingers within his brown hair, right above the nape of the lover’s neck. With one more final thrust both of you indulged sweet, sweet pleasure.

Johnny stayed until the morning came, just as he promised. With an expression of pure ecstasy and lust, you snuggled into his chest. He wrapped a pair of arms around you and for the first time since the arrival you felt at peace sleeping in the manor. The candle remained snuffed out. 

In the morning of the following day, you went to the city with Mrs. Garrick to receive the remaining letters and a few other errands. You and the cook split to settle matters quickly. 

The post office was a small place with barely anyone inside but a friendly looking old lady behind the counter. 

— Good morning, I’d like to receive the mail for Lord Riley.

You put on a polite smile, walking closer to the counter and removing the bonnet from your head.

— So you are the new housekeeper, I’ve heard about you. It’s been a while since someone got his letters, guess he still ain’t leaving the house?

— No, ma’am. Lord is rather… — you paused, searching for the right description of your employer — a private person. 

— Always had been, even before he went to war. But oh, that was years ago, I hope he softened at least a little. Such a sad and grumpy boy he was. 

There was something in the way she phrased it that made your body still. Blood got so heated up anyone that touched you could feel it on the outside. Did she mean the previous Lord, father of Simon Riley? But that couldn’t be the case, this title was newly found when he returned from the war. So what was this all about? 

— Forgive me, you said “years ago”? How long ago was it? You see, I’m not from here and the Lord doesn’t share much about himself.

— Of course he does not and do not expect otherwise — she waved with her wrinkled finger, before reaching for the bile of letters from the shelf behind her. — It was around twenty five years ago, Lord Riley was the same age as my son when he joined the Queen’s army.

— I see. 

You were confused, extremely confused. The blonde Lord with scarred face did not look a year past his thirties, how could this be that he enlisted quarter of century ago? At that moment you felt so horrified by this anomaly. 

Through the rest of the day and the day that followed, the old maiden aunt’s words echoed inside of your head:

— I am surprised anyone actually was willing to take that job. Lord Riley is a… forgive me for speaking so freely, but he’s a strange man who abandoned the word of God years ago. Why do you think he got pushed away from the post earlier? 

He was…? 

You didn’t look the same into the depths of the windows of the Manor, nor did you stare at the dark corner of the hall. Every sound of wood creaking sent shivers down your spine. They were coming. 

Oh God, have you gone mad?  

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈

You stirred the porridge over and over again, watching as the gooey mush slipped from the spoon down to its den. Despite the tremendous amount of honey you added it still tasted rather bitter this morning. 

— Did you finish?

— Excuse me?

You tightened the hold over the silver spoon when Lord’s hoarse voice brought you back to the eerie reality. 

— The book. I asked if you finished the book? — Blonde man raised his thick brow in question, curiously looking at you from his own plate. 

— Oh, yes, yes. I enjoyed it, however I found Winzy’s life quite miserable to be honest. And tragic.

— Why so? 

— Well, he lost the woman he loved so dearly and then had to continue living eternally without her. Imagine how lonely his life had to be, when he must have outlived every single friend he had made. 

— If he was so miserable as you say, then why wouldn’t he just end his suffering and join the woman he claimed to love? Maybe he didn’t really care after all. — Simon leaned back in his chair, exhaling loudly. — I sometimes wonder what his life would look like if he had given the potion to Bertha. A pair of immortals walking this earth, would they become some sort of Gods?

— Doesn’t the thought of living so long… make you feel… I don’t know, unease , my Lord?

— No. I’ve seen worse things than an old man. Those who fear death might go to extremes just to avoid their end.  

— We were not made to live forever, don’t we? We should not play God.

— There is no God, sweet girl. Only sinners and fools. Those who play and those who lose. Are you a loser?

— No, Sir. 

His dark eyes glowed in a mysterious manner as the silence fell between you two. The man was bright and had seen right through you. 

— Good. If we speak of the matter of sinners, I’d like to make one thing clear.

The Lord stood up from his seat, putting the white napkin on the table. His figure loomed closer toward his housekeeper and finally leaned on one of his hands over you. You could feel his breath on your neck, his closeness made you shiver. 

— You’ve been living under my roof and by now you should know I despite disobedience and liars. 

— I am no liar, Sir. 

— Perhaps not, but you hide things from me. Captain Price spoke of you in high regard - a well behaved woman from a respected family, yet you’ve proven yourself to be rather promiscuous. You even ensnared poor Johnny, didn’t you? 

That… was straight forward. 

— I did no such thing!

Suddenly he wrapped one of his strong hands over the nape of your neck, causing you to tense and lean away from his touch. The man began drawing circles over your skin with his thumb, almost like he tried to soothe your shattered nerves. You gasped at the sudden force he had put you in place.

— Watch yourself and think twice about answering again. 

— It was mutual.

— Mutual? — He repeated mockingly. — Johnny boy would fuck anything that moves in ten miles radius. And it just happened to be you. 

— How dare you speak like this? — You turned your head to look him in the face. When you did, you saw the insolent smirk painted over his pale face. — He is at least decent towards me, he’s kind and caring. We did nothing wrong. Why do you care?

Simon leaned down right next to your face. He continued to stare you down, his brows narrowed in deep disappointment. 

— You’ve built a wall between us, sweet girl. Yeah, you did. If there was something you ever needed, you should have come directly to me, your Lord. And I can assure you, Johnny did not give what you craved and desired. 

Inconveniently your face changed its colour to vivid blush, when he suggested such things. Your stomach felt like one, big knot twisting its way to get stuck in your oesophagus. Was that it? Was this how he perceived you? Was he jealous of the fling between you and Johnny or was he simply cruel?

Lord Riley let go of your pretty neck and caressed your cheek with the knuckles of his fingers. Just like one would touch a lover and another – a pet. 

— You’re frightened. Are you scared of me, is that it? Be obedient and you won’t have to be. Or do you really want to be punished so badly?

You quickly denied by shaking your head to the sides to which he only hummed. His weight shifted behind your back and a trail of footsteps could be heard as the Lord of the house left the dining room.

A moment passed before you caught yourself staring at the bowl of now cold porridge, slowly digesting the conversation you just held with him, your Master. 

The burden upon your poor, poor mind has overwhelmed you and the realisation of a potential madness weighed heavily upon you. Nothing made sense. Not a single logical explanation has come to light to soothe your fears. 

After those couple of weeks the staff and maids stayed in the shadows, Lord’s age did not match the tales of his youth and those horrible sounds you continued to hear at night? Ugh, they kept you awake, causing dark bags to show under your pretty eyes. 

The manor itself seemed to have poisoned you. Was that it? The reason? You knew you had to leave the house as soon as possible. You had to…

Oh God, what have you gotten yourself into? 

That night was no different to those before it. Wind blowing through the crack in the window’s frame, wheezing and whistling. Your bedsheets are exceptionally cold this time, causing you to shiver and tremble. The candle is still burning, a metal holder standing on the table. 

When you finally manage to curl up under the sheets and doze away slightly, you hear this agonising, scary wails. 

Wait. No. 

Those are no wails.

I-Is someone moaning?

You raised up to a sitting position in a half asleep state. Loose strands of hair stick to the forehead as you continue to listen for more sounds. 

Those seem to be almost human-like. Maybe they are? 

You throw the sheets to the side and crawl out of the bed. You’re frustrated and moody, close to tears from the exhaustion of not being able to sleep. Before you left your chamber, you grabbed that damn candle light and took a deep breath. 

Your bare feet left no traces behind as you walked down the dark hallway. The heart in your chest was about to burst, obviously you were still scared of the dark and what possibly lurks within it. The hem of your nightgown sweeped the wooden flooring that cracked underneath your weight. 

Then, you heard those moans again, louder. You were getting closer. Following the awful sounds you finally get to its source. You knew where your feet happened to take you to and that you shouldn’t have dared to enter this chamber. Nonetheless, you did. The shroud of mystery had to be torn. 

You slowly creeped towards the half-opened, heavy doors and sneaked inside where the darkness swallowed almost everything. Single candles had been lit across the room, creating an ascended ambience. You should have turned around and left, you understood that perfectly well. However, you wanted answers to all the secrets of the manor and its habitants. 

Behind the wooden screen there was a large bed and two figures sitting on its edge. Gardener who was completely bare and whining into Lord’s shoulder, drool leaving the corner of his mouth. Thighs spread open and eyes closed tight. And there he was – Lord Simon dressed in trousers and loose, white chemise. His big hand was tightly wrapped around Johnny’s angry cock, pulling and twisting the sensitive skin. They seemed to be enjoying themselves as Johnny whined pitifully again at the sensation. 

At least now you finally knew what those sounds were exactly – that stormy night Johnny came to you, were they also together? You couldn’t move and kept standing close to the screen, eyes transfixed at the scene you witnessed. So many emotions washed over you – were you embarrassed, scared or even jealous? The dots and the facts slowly began connecting. You had to make haste and leave this room. This house. You knew you had to get away tonight, before things would escalate. Oh God, you couldn’t properly breathe, your face and lungs felt like they were on fire!

— Looks like we have company — the coarse voice of a blonde man made your skin cover in goosebumps. He stared directly at you. — Want to join us? 

Unknowingly you made a muffled whine of embarrassment as you swiftly turned around and started to walk away in a hurry. As if you were in some kind of trance, your body going automatically. You rolled up the long hem of your nightgown not to stumble upon it as you found yourself on the corridor again. 

Christ! You forgot to take the candle with you! 

The breathing became difficult as you had to navigate somehow in the complete darkness. A part of your heart felt betrayed by the erotic scenery you just witnessed, although you couldn’t completely understand why. You and Johnny were a one time thing, why would you feel sorry for him bedding someone else? 

Probably because this “someone else” was your mutual employer.

There were heavy footsteps behind you, they were getting closer and closer. He was right behind the nosy intruder. You tried to fasten your pace, blindly going forward, hoping to find a staircase. Then it would lead you downstairs and outside of the building. But before you even made it halfway to the stairs, you bumped into a slim table standing by the wall. The vase standing on it fell and broke as the painful impact of the table's corner digging into your abdomen sent you to the ground. 

When it was clear you were within his grasp, you tried to crawl further away from him, trying to escape somehow. But Simon was faster and he collected you from the floor. 

— Come, before you’re gonna hurt yourself. — Lord Riley said as he managed to lift up and throw you over his broad shoulder with little effort.

You tried to break free by kicking like a goat and punching him with your curled fist. But how could the strength of a city girl ever compare to the former soldier’s? You groaned, you kicked and you cursed. Nothing could have prepared you for the harsh slap that Simon planted on your bottom. It stung, causing you to go still over his shoulder. And when he spanked you again you bit your lower lip, trying to confide any pathetic whines. 

— Should have whipped you long ago. Maybe it would teach you some respect. 

— I didn't mean to interrupt, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, my Lord!

— Oh, you happened to join us just in time. 

Lord Riley took you back to his bedroom and tossed you down onto his remarkably large bed. This time, he locked the doors from the inside and removed the key from the lock. You were stuck there with them. You managed to back up a little, before Johnny reached you. He sat at your side and carefully extended his hand towards your petrified face, a curtain of hair covering your pretty features.

— It’s alright, bonnie. Calm down. 

— I don’t want to be a part of this. — You stated, kneeling on the bed sheets splayed beneath. Simon stood tall with his hands crossed in front of you and the gardener. Johnny gently began to caress your back in a soothing manner. 

You were caught red handed, busted the only chance to run away and now you were more than positive he would never let you go. You tried to conceal the fears and shame, because now was the time to uncover the truth. 

— What is this? — You asked with a shaking voice, eyes transfixed on the two figures of men, going from the blonde to the brunette. — What’s going on? Please, let’s forget about this. I’ll go back to bed. I–I…

— You already are in one — Lord took a step forward and caught your jaw. He yanked your head up, forcing you to look at him. — Have you finally figured it out? I directly gave you clues. Come on, you’re a smart one. Put the pieces together. 

How could you come up with a logical conclusion? Everything you gathered through the weeks could be interpreted as a mad woman’s nonsense. But you weren’t ill, you were aware of the games going around you.

— You’re much older than you look, that’s what I know. And that you’ve done horrifying, unforgivable things during your service. Lord– Simon — you corrected yourself — what have you done? 

— Think. Harder. 

His patience was running thin. Simon spoke through his bared teeth. 

— Oh, God. Are you a part of this? — You looked at Johnny, before the blonde man caught your throat and lifted you on your feet again. 

— Don’t be harsh on her! She doesn’t know better. She needs to learn. — The Scotsman said to your defence, narrowing his thick brows and scrambling the bridge of his nose. All this time he was sitting comfortably on the bed, absolutely not bothered with his nakedness.  

— There is no God here, sweet girl, I already told you. Only me, Johnny and well, you. I’ve been kind enough to share a piece of me with you and that’s how you repay your Lord? In such childish, pathetic disobedience? Fucking nosy, aren’t we? Or just eager? 

The tall, bulky man reached with his other hand and forcefully cupped your crotch through the thin material of the nightgown, causing you to wriggle in his hold. He prodded against your slit with his finger, toying with you, testing the limits and your responses. And you were very responsive. 

In that moment you thought about the choice of literature Simon had given you. The main plotline revolved around immortality and its consequences, which would somehow explain… some things. Yet what about God? Why did Simon detest him so much?

— God turns his back on people like me and once you sin for us, he will turn on you too — he mockingly snorted, before continuing your torment. — If he didn’t already. 

You tried to tear from his hold, shaking yourself and pushing his chest away. Lord Riley stood like a mountain, not moving an inch. In a quick movement he twirled you around and took a firm hold of the nightgown material at your back. Then you heard how loudly the stitches broke and the teared material slowly fell to the ground, exposing your much alive and young flesh.

Before you realised you were completely bare and managed to cover yourself somehow, Simon grabbed your arms behind your back so you couldn’t move further. 

— I think he sent you to us as a gift — the man leaned against your shoulder, whispering into your ear. — Yeah, that’s what you are – a sweet, innocent present. Isn’t she cute, Johnny? 

Brunette finally stood up from the bed and gently caressed your hip. He was standing so close, you could feel his pulsating cock and its leaking tip on your supple thigh.

— Aye, she is lovely. 

— Have you tasted her, boy? That night you sneaked under her covers? — To which the dark haired one denied. — Well, I think you should compensate the little lady, no? Help her calm down, you know how women can get… hysterical. 

— W-Wait, wait, no, n-no… 

Simon sat down on the edge of the bed and placed you between his massive legs. One of his hands wrapped around your fragile, swan like neck and the other cupped your left breast. Meanwhile, Johnny got down onto his knees and moved closer to the two of you and before he dived between your thighs he looked into the dark irises of his Lord. Not yours. 

— He eats like I starve him beforehand. You’re gonna find out, lovely. 

You tried to squeeze your legs shut, but the gardener kept them spread wide so he could lean closer to your cunt. And when you tried anything like moving or wriggling away, Simon would pull or twist one of your nipples causing you to yelp. 

— She’s really pretty — the Scot said, parting your lower lips apart. The shame washed over you, causing your head to turn into Simon’s shoulder. — Never could have pulled such one while in the army. 

Then he flatten his tongue over your most sensitive parts and started dragging it along the slit. You entangled one of your hands within his brown strands of hair, on top of his head pulling slightly. When his lips sucked at your clit you finally moaned, releasing some tension and anger within you.

— Bird’s already singing.

Simon purred into your ear, nuzzling his eyebrow ridge into your head. The feelings and sensations you were experiencing overflowed your system. The man you trusted as your lover was assaulting your cunt with his mouth and the Lord you were supposed to work for was enjoying the show. You pressed your eyes shut, trying not to cry. But you finally broke and the salty streams began to run down your rosy cheeks. 

— You think she deserves to cum, Johnny? — To which the kneeling men nodded vigorously. — Use your words, stupid mutt. 

— Please, Si, let her. Look how stressed she is. Poor thing, she might need a few more.

— A few- Ah! M-More?! — You squealed again, when someone rolled your nipples between their fingers. 

When your peak neared, you tried to turn your head away and hide. You didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing your face in pure bliss. Simon held your head against his sternum, pressing your forehead backwards. 

You felt like you were on fire, orange flames licking your fingers, your breasts, your inner thighs. 

— That’s it, good girl. 

And when the knot finally bursted, a wave of painful, white pleasure washed over you. The orgasm was so strong, it blinded your senses for a short moment in which the men flipped you around the bed. 

Johnny was supporting your shoulders and your head, while Lord was stirring in front of you. He threw your legs over his thighs and scooped closer to your still wet with saliva crotch. And not only with that…

The new wave of panic overwhelmed you when Simon began to undo his trousers. He was taller and bigger than the gardener in every aspect, you were scared. Taking two lovers, without marital vows? Does this make you a whore? But you didn’t want this!

— No, no, no… — You weeped sadly, trying to crawl away, before Johnny began to caress your head. His grip was tight and successfully held you in place. 

— After tonight, we’ll be joined as one, bonnie. Just us, here in this house, forever. 

— But I-I don’t want this, Johnny! Please, let me go. Let me go.

You repeated as Simon pulled you by the hips closer to him. His now exposed, thick cock stiffened over your soft abdomen, leaking some precum. 

— Shh, Simon knows what’s best for us. He knows. 

When the tip of his length caved his way inside of your warm, silky walls, he was at least decent enough to take it slow. If you felt full during that first night spent with Johnny, this time it seemed even fuller. With his flesh, Simon filled you to the brim, still not even moving. The man saw your struggle to relax, so he leaned down and sucked the thin and delicate skin below your jaw. 

Meanwhile Johnny brushed your hair backwards and with the other hand he caressed your ribs. Somehow they knew how to press each individual button to make you docile enough. 

They learned how to tame you. 

Only then, Simon began to move his hips, thrusting slowly and continuously fastening the pace. His movements made you sway along Johnny’s knees. Your breasts bounced within the rhythm and your eyes searched for them through the half absent haze. 

You got lost in the moment, every breath merged with another. Hands roaming over your body, whose owners you couldn’t really assign, the burning stretch in your cunt that began to lube itself to ease the friction. 

The pleasure that crushed over your sensible thinking, put you in an almost ascended state. You were still sobbing, when Simon fastened his pace and his cock penetrated you deeper, kissing your cervix. You were still trembling, when the two men started making out above you. Their lips crushed in a vulgar exposition of their affection.

— Can’t you see that you’re lost without us, lovely? — The Lord’s voice shaken as he was getting closer to his climax. He leaned down and kissed you, almost stealing your breath away. 

— Wouldn’t last without us, would you, lass? 

They continuously somewhat mocked you and each time after they did, they cooed at you or leaned down to “kiss it better”. By the time Simon finished inside of you, groaning loudly, he spilled the warm seed inside your walls to, as Lord claim, “make you theirs”. 

— Don’t worry, we got you now. We’re gonna take care of you. Just let us… get familiar first. — Johnny said calmly, when the blonde was massaging your tense things. You knew they weren’t yet sated. 

That night you happened to lay over one of Simon’s bulky arms like a pillow. He caged your body from behind, his chest pressing tightly against your spine and Johnny laid on his side in front of you. Through a half awakened state you managed to look through the window that faced the treeline. An edge of forest shrouded in thick, morning mist. 

Tonight you finally were able to put the pieces together. However it was too late anyways.

The house seemed to be stuck in time and space, so were its residents. The wind sweeping through the draughty windows fills the lungs of the great manor. Old, wooden flooring creaks and the glass strain within its frames. Every aspect of the building stays the same, untouched and reclusive for many years to come. 

You finally let the heavy eyelids close. The sun was rising.

Obviously very inspired by Ghost's music and Crimson Peak, here is Spotify playlist ⟶ 𝕏

[athanza]

Starlett - Part 1

Cooper Howard/fem!OC (not self-insert)

Tags: Hurt/comfort (sort of?), non-allowed romantic connection, lots of tention, pre and post war drama, some fluff

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse (no graphic scenes or descriptions of that nature), angst, canon wasteland violence

Summary: The Ghoul remembers a recruit of Moldaver, by the name of Irene Taylor, who he met before the war.

This branches out from canon but I thought it was a cute story idea so I had to write it. Enjoy! ♡

Part 2 | Part 3 | Final part

2296

Cooper's weather-beaten boots thudded on the dirt, the stones crackling beneath his heels.

The town was too quiet for there not to be a surprise waiting for him somewhere amongst the pre-war rubble so when a glimpse of movement caught his attention and he pulled his gun.

A kid, no older than 15 held up his hands in fear.

"Please don't shoot!"

Coopers sunken eyes narrowed. "Do yourself a favour and scram. If you try anything I will shoot you. Understand?"

The kid nodded frantically in agreement and Cooper gestured with his gun for the kid to get out of there.

As the boy ran off, a large, rolled up piece of paper fell out of his backpack and unfurled face-up in the dirt.

Cooper stepped over as he re-holstered his gun, and looked down at it out of curiosity. When he saw a familiar face on it he bent down to pick it up and held it out in front of him.

"Irene Taylor," It read. "Songbird of Hollywood Hills."

On the poster was a large photograph of a glamorous woman behind a microphone, and a look of a fond, yet faded, remembrance appeared on his scarred features.

2077

"This is a little public for a meeting isn't it?" Cooper asked as he and Lee Muldaver made their way to an empty table at a local jazz club called the Bird Cage.

"My contact is meeting us here. Don't worry about being recognised, this place is used to celebrities, they mind their own business."

They took a seat and settled in and Cooper turned his attention to the band, the singer had a lovely voice and it reminded him of the band that played at his wedding. He shook the memory from his mind.

"So where is this contact?" He asked.

Muldaver smiled a little. "You're listening to her."

He looked back at the singer.

Now that he thought about it, he did recognise her. He'd seen her face on posters for jazz clubs all over the city but never gave them much thought.

"Her husband is Frank Taylor, he's an executive for Vault Tec. She feeds us any information she can get. She's one of our best."

She had wonderful stage presence, captivating the audience with a rendition of "Them There Eyes" by Billie Holiday. Her champagne coloured dress sparkled in the stage lights, and she had every person in that room wrapped around her finger, and she knew it.

When she finished the song the room roared with applause and she stepped off the stage, politely thanking patrons as they came up to her on her way over.

Muldaver rose from her seat to meet her as she reached their table.

"Lee." Irene smiled fondly as she hugged her. "Thank you for coming."

"That was wonderful as always."

"Stop it you." Irene joked.

"May I introduce Mr. Cooper Howard?"

Irene looked at him and he held out his hand, having stood up with Muldaver.

"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Howard." She smiled as she took his hand.

"The pleasure is mine." He replied with a charming grin.

She sat down at their table and waved the waiter down for a round of drinks.

"How is everything going? Is Frank well?" Muldaver asked.

Cooper noticed Irene make a subtle, nervous glance at the bar before answering. "He's fine." She replied. "You said there was something you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Yes, our new recruit."

Muldaver looked at Cooper and Irene seemed surprised, unable to reply for a few seconds.

"I apologise for seeming so shocked, but with all of your promotions with Vault Tec, you're one of the last people I'd expect."

"Don't worry about it." He replied, reassuring her. "I understand. I'm not the first I'd expect either."

"Well, I guess this proves how convincing Lee can be." She smiled again, but there was something in that smile that seemed pained somehow.

Just then, a man came up behind them with a drink in his hand and put the other on Irene's shoulder and she jumped a little.

By her reaction Cooper thought it was another random patron come to say hello and invade her space, but he kissed her on the cheek and she looked up and smiled at him.

"Hello darling." She said.

"Hi Frank, how have you been?" Muldaver smiled.

"Oh, you know, more hours and no pay rise." He joked.

It was obvious he was tipsy and the discomfort on Irene's face as her husband sat down next to her made Cooper's eyes narrow a little.

"Darling, have you met Mr. Howard?"

"No I haven't had the pleasure." Frank replied, reaching over to shake his hand. "Nice to finally meet you Mr. Howard, your advert for vault 4 was terrific, exactly what we were looking for. I was sad to hear about your resignation."

Cooper shifted in his seat and chuckled uncomfortably, trying to retain his professionalism. "Ah, well, I'm not getting any younger." He joked.

Frank laughed, a little louder than was necessary. "Aren't we all! Say, is it true that it was your real dog in A Man and His Dog?".

Cooper took a sip of his drink that had just arrived. "Yes, Roosevelt, he's a beloved member of our little family."

"Well isn't that just the cutest darn thing." He smiled.

Irene was shrinking. Frank's presence was drowning the one that was only just captivating an entire audience. Then he noticed it and his chest pulsed with distain.

"Mr. Taylor, would you mind if I stole your wife for a dance?"

Irene looked slightly worried and stuttered her reply. "U-um, I don't..." She looked at Frank, almost for permission.

He hesitated but wanted to save face in front of everyone. "Of course." He smiled.

She stood up and walked over to take Cooper's extended hand.

He lead her to the dance floor. The band was playing an instrumental of "Good Morning Heartache" and he placed a hand on her waist.

"Not too close." She said. She realised her fear had slipped out and very quickly composed herself. "Don't want Frank to get jealous." She chuckled, disguising her reaction with a joking tone.

He stayed a modest distance from her as they began swaying to the music.

"He's playing it down but Frank is a big fan of yours. He's seen almost all of your movies, even dressed as your role in The Man From Calabasas for Halloween a few years back."

"You know," he said. "There's a funny story from that set. In the scene where I had to lasso that steer, the first take it somehow managed to pull me clean off my horse. I had a terrible black eye for two weeks after that, but the makeup team covered it up so well that no one could tell. In other words, I know a cover job when I see one."

She nervously glanced at her shoulder, briefly enough that hopefully Frank wouldn't notice if he was watching her.

"I know we just met, and it's none of my business, but Lee told me you married him for the mission. If he's hurting you, you need to tell her."

"She knows." Irene replied.

"She knows? And she hasn't pulled you out?"

"I asked her not to."

"Why?"

"Because this cause means a lot to me, and whatever I'm going through is for the greater good. I'm the only one with my foot in the door this high up, at least before you showed up."

He was getting angry now, not at anyone in particular, but at the unnecessary situation.

"Forgive me, but that's about the biggest pile of bullshit I've ever heard. You don't need to be in this any more than I do."

She scoffed dismissively. "You don't understand Mr. Howard, this is my purpose, stopping Vault Tec in any way that I can, even if it's one password or document at a time."

Part 2

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Chapter 12

Chapter 11 Letter

Thank you @passthechloroform for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

???: Is this also God's guidance? Miss Emma, it's been a while.

The moment I heard that gentle and calm voice, as if all the surrounding noise had been erased and the surroundings were enveloped in benevolence, an unknown chill ran down my spine.

-- A few hours earlier.

Emma: Prince Azel, I'm off.

Azel: It must be tough for you every day.

I put on the bag filled with books and covered my head with a stole to protect myself from the sand.

It was a solution that Prince Azel had taught me when I told him I was troubled by the fine sand getting in my hair.

(Even though he says "I don't care," he's a surprisingly caring God.)

Azel: You're going to the place of that big merchant who manages the market today, right?

Emma: ...Did I even tell you that?

Azel: I just happened to see the books you were packing in your bag.

Azel: I have a connection with him. I know his taste in books.

(To deduce that just from the specialized books on art...)

Azel: If you're going to the city, take this with you.

It seemed like Prince Azel's main point was an errand, as he handed me a folded piece of paper.

The letters written all over it were scribbled and honestly hard to read.

(Prince Azel's letters all look like horizontal lines except for the first letter.)

It took me a few minutes to decipher the letters that were probably created as a result of prioritizing efficiency.

Azel: And one more thing.

Just as I finally understood the contents, he handed me an envelope as an additional request.

Azel: Give this to the person who calls out to you.

Emma: It's like a prophecy.

Azel: It's not "like" a prophecy, it is a prophecy. Someone will definitely call out to you.

Azel: Let's see... If you have time, you can attend to his request.

Azel: You were interested in Tanzanite divination, right? It wouldn't be bad to experience the real thing once.

(It seems like the future I can't see is clearly reflected in Prince Azel's eyes.)

There are still things I don't understand about the mysteries of the "Living God."

Whether it's a mystery or just foresight –

Azel: Oh, and also...

Emma: Is there more!?

Azel: If a suspicious old man calls out to you, ignore him.

Azel: If you lose to your conscience and listen to his sweet words, all that awaits you is ruin.

Emma: ...That's casually scary.

Azel: It's the truth. Listen, indiscriminate kindness is not a virtue, it's just stupidity.

Azel: This world is overflowing with "madmen who aren't aware of their own evil."

Azel: As Belle, you're a good target for anyone. Leave the scamming to me.

(Though Prince Azel's scams aren't good either...)

Emma: ...Understood. I understand that you're worried about me, Prince Azel.

Emma: I'll do my best to run away from any trouble.

Azel: I'm not worried.

Azel: I'm just saying don't cause me any trouble.

Azel: I've already been put through enough trouble, I don't need any more.

(Hmm... He won't meet my eyes.)

Emma: I understand, Prince Azel.

Emma: Actually, you're so worried that you can't stand it, but your embarrassment keeps you from saying it honestly––

Emma: Ow...! My cheeks are going to rip!

Azel: That's divine punishment for your ignorance.

Azel: Would you please stop being so conceited? I'm not interested in other people.

As if to tell me to hurry up and go, Prince Azel grabbed my shoulder and forcefully turned my body around.

(Now that I know Prince Azel is a tsundere who's bad at expressing himself, I can't help but grin at every little thing.)

Perhaps sensing my amusement, he gave me a strong push on my back, and I left the temple, stumbling a little.

-

Emma: ...Huh?

Silvio: What?

As I left the office of the association that manages the market, I happened to meet someone I knew.

Silvio: You again? If you came out of there, does that mean your client is Temer?

Emma: That's right.

As Prince Azel had said, Mr. Temer was a big merchant who controlled the market, and he was generous with rewards in the form of books.

Silvio: Your guest is quite a big shot.

(Now that I think about it, the Living God, the chairman of the tourism association, the big merchant of the market...)

(The owner only has connections with big shots.)

Silvio: Are ya done with your business for today?

Emma: Yes. After this, I just have to run an errand for Prince Azel... Ah!

I suddenly remembered and took the envelope out of my bag.

(It seems like the prophecy came true.)

Emma: Prince Azel asked me to give this to you.

Silvio: Ha, I don't remember making any plans to meet with you, though?

Silvio: That guy really is thorough in these matters.

After receiving the letter, Prince Silvio immediately cut it open with a small knife he had and read through it, but...

Judging from the wrinkles between his eyebrows, it seems like I'm not the only one who struggles with his handwriting.

Silvio: Damn, not only is it a pain to decipher, it's also a hell of a deal.

Emma: Is it about business?

Silvio: Yeah, somethin' like that.

After looking up from the letter, Prince Silvio stared at me with an impolite gaze.

(He looks like he wants to say something.)

Silvio: ...Well, whatever. Woman, accompany me while you're running errands for the God.

Emma: Is there something you need help with?

Silvio: There might be, there might not be.

(...)

His vague attitude bothered me, but Prince Azel's prophecy was still fresh in my mind.

Emma: Understood. It's a rare opportunity to get in Prince Silvio's good graces.

Silvio: You might actually end up being the buyer.

Silvio: First, let's find a gift.

(A gift...?)

-

Silvio: Hey, drunkard diviner.

Diviner: Ah, Prince Silvio, I've been waiting for you. I brought my collection of rare alcohol today, but...

Sitting at the table in the tavern, enjoying his drink, was a man veiled in mystery.

Our eyes met through the translucent cloth, and for some reason, he was astonished.

Diviner: The woman next to you...is...

Diviner: ...Could it be, the foreign girl that the Living God is passionately infatuated with...!

(...I want to say it's a misunderstanding, but I can't...)

As I forced myself to swallow the words that were about to come out, the diviner stood up abruptly and offered me his seat.

Diviner: I'm fine on the floor.

Emma: You are not fine, please sit back down!

Diviner: How can I possibly sit comfortably in front of the supreme treasure of the Living God?

Emma: The Living God... surely wouldn't want this.

Diviner: How merciful...!

(He's reacting this way because he's drunk, right? I want to believe that.)

Silvio: Passionately infatuated...

Silvio: I want to know more about that.

(Oh no...)

As a guest staying at the castle, Prince Silvio must have heard some rumors, but judging from his reaction, he might not have grasped the details yet.

Emma: M-more importantly, don't you have more important business to attend to?

Silvio: Not really, I just thought I'd have a drink with the drunkard.

Emma: In the middle of the day?

Silvio: I don't have much work today.

Silvio: Besides, in Tanzanite, there's no one more informed than a diviner.

Silvio: It's more convenient to bribe a diviner than to hire a lousy informant.

(Why is that?)

When Prince Silvio offered the expensive alcohol he had bought on the way, the diviner's eyes changed.

Silvio: So, what happened with that greedy God?

Emma: Oh, that's right! I'm interested in divination!

Emma: I heard that Tanzanite has its own unique astrology...

Emma: I've never seen a real divination before, so I'd like to see it... or something like that.

I forcibly changed the subject before he could pry any further.

(I'm not lying.)

(I know about Prince Azel's fraudulent divination, but now I'm not even sure if that was really divination...)

Emma: Would it trouble you to tell my fortune sometime when you're free?

Diviner: Not at all! If you're interested, I can show you right now.

(Right now!?)

The diviner stood up, grabbed a nearby bag, and took out paper, a pen, ink, and a beautiful disc engraved with numerous letters.

*flashback*

Azel: All diviners in Tanzanite are interested in the sky.

Azel: The basis of divination in our country is astrology.

*flashback over*

Emma: ––Is that a horoscope?

While I was dumbfounded, a fragment of memory flickered in my mind.

Diviner: Yes. But it's different from the ones prevalent in other countries.

Diviner: What Tanzanite diviners use is an astrological chart built up by successive Living Gods...

Diviner: It's the "stars" spun by the Living God himself.

(I don't know anything about astrology, so I don't understand what's different...)

(Maybe it means the horoscope itself is unique and handmade by the God?)

Diviner: The one I have is an old chart, and the stars of the current Living God aren't engraved on it...

Diviner: But that probably won't affect the results of the divination.

Silvio: Come to think of it, I've only ever seen fake divination.

(...I feel like he's talking about Prince Azel's divination.)

Silvio: Woman, what exactly are ya goin' to have him tell your fortune about?

Emma: Anything is fine?

Diviner: Of course. Divination unravels the tangles of worries and anxieties and shows people the path to a certain tomorrow.

Diviner: I don't think it's necessary for the daughter blessed by the Living God, but please ask me anything.

(Since it's a rare opportunity, I should ask about my love life...)

(...But I feel like it's dangerous to ask that in my current position.)

Emma: Actually, I'm in debt.

Silvio: Huh?

Emma: I'm working hard every day to repay that debt...

Emma: Will I be able to repay it in the future?

(I can't return to Rhodolite unless I repay it... It's my most pressing concern right now.)

Diviner: Let's ask the Gods. But before that...

Diviner: First, please answer a few questions.

With Prince Silvio watching over me, I answered the questions one by one.

From personal information to intuitive questions with unreadable intentions like "Which do you choose, red or blue?", it wasn't so much about being exposed by mystical powers, but rather each piece of information I answered seemed to become the foundation of the divination.

(This is completely different from Prince Azel's way.)

(...When I'm questioned so thoroughly like this, I understand what he meant by "knowing more than an informant.")

Prince Silvio seemed to have gotten bored halfway through and started drinking by himself after ordering alcohol from the waiter.

After a considerable amount of time had passed, the diviner who had been looking at the horoscope finally looked up.

Diviner: ––The oracle has spoken.

Diviner: If you continue to do what you should do, the misfortune that has befallen you will surely be dispelled.

Diviner: The guidance of the moon's incarnation shows a good omen that you will become free.

Emma: Really? That's great.

(I'm so glad it's not a future where I'm eternally exploited by Prince Azel!)

Silvio: Ha, it's just a divination, right?

Silvio: If you're in debt, what else can you do but work your fingers to the bone?

Emma: ...I was caught by a rather special swindler, so I'm happy even if it's just for peace of mind.

Silvio: Peace of mind won't solve anything.

Diviner: No. Prophecies come true most of the time. That's the divination of our country.

Diviner: Unlike other countries, in this country, which is directly blessed by God, the future is a "guaranteed reality."

(...Prince Azel said something similar.)

(Come to think of it, it's only recently that divination has become inaccurate.)

(Was it really a "guaranteed reality" before that?)

Diviner: People rely on divination before doing anything. Employment, starting a business, marriage partners, politics, everything...

Diviner: For the people of Tanzanite, divination is the star on the vast ocean.

Diviner: Why can navigators steer their ships without getting lost even in the middle of the vast ocean...?

Diviner: It's because there are stars in the sky that indicate direction.

Diviner: Divination plays the role of those stars, and it's an essential and important thing.

Diviner: We don't know the "uncertain future."

(...I think I understand this country's view of divination.)

(The reason why the people of Tanzanite are in a panic now is...)

(Because the stars that should have always been there suddenly disappeared one day.)

Crossing the ocean without a compass or stars must be incredibly difficult.

Perhaps people are left behind on the dark ocean, trembling with anxiety.

Silvio: I wonder what the Living God thinks of this current situation?

Prince Silvio, putting down his alcohol, dropped his gaze to the unique disc engraved with small letters.

Silvio: The people of Tanzanite can't live without God now.

Silvio: They are kept alive by God and have built prosperity by God.

Silvio: Did God wish for this...?

*flashback*

Azel: Someone once said that humans are thinking reeds.

Azel: But those who give up thinking for themselves are just reeds.

Azel: It's a fitting image for this country where the plants have withered.

*flashback over*

Emma: No... I don't think he wished for this.

Prince Silvio, as well as the diviner, widened their eyes slightly at my firm declaration.

Silvio: ...If you, who he's so passionately infatuated with, say so, then it must be true.

Silvio: If God didn't wish for this...

Silvio: Then who the hell created this situation?

(...Who created...)

Neither I nor the diviner had an answer.

The quiet tavern in the middle of the day was enveloped in silence.

Prince Silvio's casual question sank deep into my heart.

-

When we left the tavern, the sunlight had already begun to slant.

Emma: Speaking of which, what was it that you needed help with?

Silvio: Huh? Let's see...

Silvio: Moral support.

Emma: ...Does stopping me have anything to do with Prince Azel's letter?

(There's no way Prince Silvio would bring me along without a reason.)

Silvio: Who knows?

Silvio: ...Hm?

???: Is this also God's guidance? Miss Emma, it's been a while.

(...!)

The moment I heard that gentle and calm voice, as if all the surrounding noise had been erased and the surroundings were enveloped in benevolence, an unknown chill ran down my spine.

Trying to calm my heart that was beating like an alarm, I slowly turned around –

An elderly man with a benevolent smile, unchanged from when I saw him before, approached me.

(The apostle...)

Apostle: This is a precious opportunity.

Apostle: Miss Emma, would you like to listen to the sermon as well?

.

.

.

Chapter 13

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to leave me a tip here or buy me a coffee through the "Leave a Tip" button on my navigation bar!

[poraphia]

"Four Medium-Sized Coffees, One Big Fat Work Crush"

lvjy!wilbur x manager!reader 1457 words • 8.9.23 request by @mrssabinecallas! "lead singer will with a manager reader! they book all their performances and bring them coffee every morning, just happy to be there with Will and their friends"

requests are still open!! dont be shy :3 pt. 2 here <-

How to be a good tour manager: 1) Bring them coffee every morning 2) Don't fall in love with the lead singer

♡♡♡

Y’know, when I signed up for this job, I didn’t expect the roller coaster of emotions and action that would come with being an on-tour manager. 

I especially didn’t think I’d end up falling for the lead singer of Lovejoy, William Gold.

I have been a stage director for concerts for a couple of years now since I graduated from university. I worked for different venues, taking up jobs such as being in charge of soundcheck and directing the lights. After years of hard work and a resume of experience, I was finally offered my first opportunity of being an on-tour manager for a rising band that was touring the world.

I have to admit, it was different. I was constantly away from home and on the road. The one thing genuinely battling this homesick feeling was the constant adventure and excitement we faced in every city. From sitting awkwardly in an Uber as the driver told us horrific stories, to running around the late-night streets tasting cuisines we had never heard of before.

I remember on the first day, I was a nervous train wreck. I spent most of that night pacing around my hotel room while occasionally practicing in the mirror how to greet the band, how to talk to them, and how to even shake their hand. It wasn’t until the peak time of 4 AM I decided that I should keep things simple (and that I should probably go to sleep because I had to wake up in three hours).

I met up with the band at our first venue for a soundcheck. When I got the text that they were arriving shortly, I ran to the nearest cafe and ordered four coffees, each with a simple shot of espresso, two scoops of sugar, and a cup of milk. It was basic, and it wasn’t guaranteed it would be something they’d love, but I was far too deep to turn back around and return the coffee. Plus, wouldn’t that be a super awkward situation? Oh, hey Mr. Barista! Sorry, can you refund me these four coffees after I walked in the blazing city heat for roughly ten minutes before—

“Hi,” A deep, posh voice caused me to snap out of my thoughts. I looked around, not even realizing I was already at the venue, and the man was holding the door for me. He was tall with disheveled curly hair and he wore a striped T-Shirt with some basic black jeans. Glasses rested on the bridge of his nose but more importantly, there was the guitar case slung across his shoulder.

“O-Oh, thank you!” I stuttered, rushing past him to avoid any more embarrassment. He softly chuckled behind me before closing the door. I turned around, half-smiling to shake off the embarrassing situation I’ve seemed to stumble in.

“You must be (y/n), right? Our manager?” He asked, his eyes trailing from my face to my lanyard, to the cardboard cupholders presenting four hot and fresh beverages. 

“Yeah!” I exclaimed a bit too loudly. Guess that’s another check on the list for what will keep me up tonight. “I, uh, I got these coffees for you guys! Just to help you guys out with the jetlag and all…” I trailed off in the end. But thankfully, the man smiled and took a random cup, slightly pursing his lips to retrieve the beverage only to flinch back, laughing.

“Holy shit, this is hot.” He chuckled. I couldn’t help but laugh along as well. “Oh, fuck, where are my manners– My name is Wilbur, Will, William, honestly call me what you like.” He shrugged. “My other mates are right there and are practicing on stage right now. There’s Ash, Mark, and Joe.” He pointed to the respective person, each calling out their name. 

We both began to walk toward the backstage area and continued talking. As Wilbur walked nonchalantly with coffee in hand, I struggled to catch up to his long strides while also maintaining the balance of the rest of the drinks.  “It’s a funny way how we all became a band actually–” He turned around. Noticing my struggle as he spared a few milliseconds so that I may catch up. Will chuckled before continuing to walk at a much slower pace.

Once we arrived in the backstage lounge, I pushed the door for him with my back. He thanked me before walking past. “Oh, (y/n), I would like to mention something–” He said, turning his head to face me. I tilted my head, anticipating. “Next time you get us coffee, I’d like mine with two cups of milk!” He smiled. “Although, it is perfect as it is anyway. I’m sure the rest of the band would love it.”

As I watched him finish up his coffee and make his way to the stage, my mind was set on a new goal:

“Find out Lovejoy’s desired coffee orders.”

From that day forward, I brought them coffee every morning. From meeting them on the tour bus, at soundcheck, to even waiting in the hotel lobby. I would listen closely to what comments they would make. If Joe slightly mentions to Ash he doesn't like sweet coffee, I'll remember to add less sugar. If I heard Mark asking around for creamer, I'll remember to put more cream. My petty rule for myself was that I wouldn't dare ask them directly about their preferences. It was a fun little game for me, and it only took Wilbur a little over two months for him to notice.

Wilbur and I were sitting in the tour bus booth area going over the set list when he brought it up. "Hey, (Y/N), can I ask you something?" He said, tapping at his cardboard cup. I looked up from the piece of paper I was writing on to meet his eyes. 

"I know what you're gonna ask– I've already asked the stage crew if we could add smoke for The Fall along with some more flashing lights during Warsaw." I explained, pointing at the paper with the pen I had in hand.

Wilbur let out a soft chuckle with the softest smile on his face. His hair covered a bit of his eyes but even then I could see the reflection of light making his pupils sparkle. His laugh caused a fluttering sensation in my chest. My hands and stomach tingled as if dozens of butterflies were dancing on my skin. Was I.. Getting flustered?

"No, no, I wasn't going to ask that." He spoke gently. I held my breath, a little embarrassed for my rambling. "Though I do appreciate it all. You've picked up so much about us as a band in just a couple of weeks." He held the end joints of my fingers between his grasp as he spoke, fidgeting with them as he talked. 

"Oh, well…" I felt the blush creeping to my face. "that is kind of my job." I chuckled.

"Also you've been getting our coffee orders perfectly I've noticed. Mark was raving to me earlier about how good it tasted. Ash even posted it in his story." Wilbur said, reminiscing on his mornings with his friends. 

I couldn't hold back the biggest smile on my face. It took every nerve of my body not to jump up on the table and do the goofiest, happiest dance of my life. Instead, I nodded and hummed, using my thumb to rub circles into his hand.

"I'm really glad to hear that. This is my first on-tour job, so here it's just–" I stumbled over my words trying to find the right phrases, but I was so overwhelmed with giddiness I just sighed. "Thank you…"

Wilbur looked back up to meet my eyes again. His cheeks were dusted with the slightest bit of pink as he examined bits of my face. I wanted to take in every feature of his as well. From the small mole near his eye to how pink his lips were. How pretty his lips are… they look so… Soft–

"(y/N)! Wilbur!" Mark called out from the other end of the bus. Immediately we pulled away from each other, sinking ourselves in our opposite-end seats from embarrassment. 

"Yeah?! What is it, Mark?" Will called out, but he dared not to turn around to face him. 

"We're in LA now! You guys ready for our last gig in the States?!" He asked excitedly.

Oh, God. 

It was the last gig. 

Which means… 

I looked over to Will, who also had a slight shock on his face as if it slipped his mind as well. 

This is it, I suppose. 

Who was I to think I would get my happy rom-com ending?

♡♡♡

my wilbur soot masterlist ~! a / n ~ i have a part two idea for this already omg should I do it?? reblogs and likes are super appreciated!! they be motivating me :33

[chanswhxre]

hiiii🌾🤍🌹

I loved your sugar daddy felix smut...andddd i would like to ask(when you can,and if you want) you to do a sugar daddy felix x fem reader breeding kink,size kink ,praise kink a little bit of daddy pet name and felix calling th reader "sugar"(like a pet name!!🌟♥️) And at the end when reader finds out that shes pregnant and tells felix,he asks her to be his wife and they become husband and wife!!

Thank you!!!love you♥️🌾💋

-mimi

a/n: i've been busy lately so sorry if it took a while, mimi. i tried to put everything in your request, i really enjoyed writing this one. thanks for requesting, i hope you like it! xoxo -jan ♡

Birthday Special

✩ masterlist ✩ requests ✩ kofi ✩ add to taglist

♡ Please read this before engaging with me and my content

♡ Pairing : sugar daddy! felix x afab reader

♡ Genre : smut

♡ Word count : 3.1k+

♡ Warnings : 18+ nsfw, explicit sexual content, oral sex (f & m receiving) cursing, size kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap), creampie, pet names, the use of daddy in sexual act

❗️minors, ageless, and blank blogs that will interact with me or my work will be BLOCKED.

Today was a very special day for you. The day you've always looked forward to, your birthday, and Felix, your sugar daddy had something planned for the two of you. Before you met him, you'd just spend your birthday with friends or your family. You visited your family yesterday and promised your friends you'll go out with them on the weekend when they're free from work.

You were excited about the plans today, Felix told you everything is a surprise but as always, you can tell him anything you'd like to do today and your wish will be his command. It's always been like that for the past 5 years. Each year, a different surprise.

You had just arrived in Italy via his private jet and you're currently in a private car that was going to take you to the hotel that he owns there. He owned a chain of luxury 5-star hotels and resorts all over the world and apparently, this one was rated as the most romantic hotel to stay in during vacations or honeymoons in Italy. This was only the second time you'd come to visit it but the first time to actually stay in it. As you entered one of the most luxurious lobbies you have ever set foot in, the manager greets you with a smile and some champagne while a bellboy unloads your luggage.

"Good morning, Miss." the manager greeted. "Shall I lead you to your room?"

"Yes please." You said and took a sip of your champagne. You still couldn't believe your eyes, the lobby was huge with shiny, marble floors and elegant black, white, and gold walls, and the whole place was lit with a large, beautiful crystal chandelier. Everything is beyond expectations when you finally arrived in your room, the top floor suite, their biggest room and surely the most expensive one. You were welcomed by a spacious living area with velvet couches and chairs, elegant paintings on the walls, and a lot more expensive furniture.

"Mr. Lee will be joining you in the afternoon. If there's anything else you need, please do not hesitate to call." The manager said before he left. The bellboy also left your luggage by the door then you closed it. You explored the entire room, it had a small hallway that led to the bedroom and the bathroom, you entered the bedroom first, greeted by the king-sized bed and a balcony that overlooked Milan. It was already beautiful with sunlight, imagine if it was evening and all the city lights would probably look like stars. The bathroom didn't disappoint as well, it had a large bathtub, a jacuzzi, and a long marble counter with a hugely lit mirror. You couldn't help but be in awe of the place.

Felix texted you shortly saying that you could explore the hotel and use its amenities while waiting for him and so you did. You went to the hotel's spa, got a relaxing massage, ate a lunch at the restaurant, and went to the garden. It was truly a luxurious experience. After dressing up for your date with Felix, you stayed and enjoyed your tea in the garden when someone suddenly covers your eyes.

"Guess who." He says in a low, familiar, voice.

"Felix?" You said and you felt him smile by your ear. He laughs and then takes his hands off and walks in front of you.

"Happy birthday, my sweet sugar!" He greeted you with his sunshine smile. You quickly stood up to wrap him in your arms.

"I missed you, you know." You pout.

"I know, darling. But hey, I got you something." He smiled and gave you a little paper bag with a familiar jewelry brand logo.

"Thank you." You smiled and opened the velvet box containing the most beautiful diamond necklace you have ever seen in your entire life and probably the most expensive one yet. "Wow. This is..wah..I'm speechless!"

"Do you like it?" He bit his lip.

"Of course I do! It's beautiful." You said.

"Let me put it on you." He offered and he walks behind you to put the necklace on. He then kisses your cheek when he hooked it. "Perfect. Now, let's go shopping."

He took you to Via Montenapoleone to shop. The luxury shopping street of Milan where it is home to the biggest designer and luxury brands. One thing you liked about shopping was the unlimited budget you had because it's a special day but mostly, when Felix comes with you, he isn't that bored little puppy just following your tail, he's actually very interested and insightful. He picks out clothes for you, accessories, makeup, and lingerie that he thinks would look great on you. He's very involved that most of the time you forget that he's not your boyfriend but your sugar daddy. He picks mostly pink items because that man is absolutely crazy for pink items on you. Of course, it wouldn't be complete without women ogling at the handsome man.

"I like this one. Try it on for me please?" Felix said as he handed you a pink, silk dress and you obliged. His mouth dropped when you tried it on and immediately bought it for you to change into with a new pair of luxury brand heels. He even surprised you with a bag he bought from another store while you were busy trying on outfits. He literally is the best. After bags and bags of new clothes, shoes, accessories, and more, you both went to a 3 Michelin star restaurant that is owned by his brother, Minho Lee. You had a reservation in a private balcony of the restaurant which had a very romantic mood to it. You didn't expect to meet his brother there but you did. A fine, handsome young man just like Felix but older, you shared a few conversations while he leads you up the stairs and he recommended you their top dishes and personally offered you a bottle of wine before he leaves the two of you.

You and Felix ordered dinner, you took a sip from your glass of wine and took in the beautiful view beside you which is the city, and in front of you, which is Felix.

"Had fun today, darling?" He asked.

"Yes. I did. One of the best days ever." You said and you clinked your glasses. The appetizer was then served and you were already 3 glasses of wine in. A mischievous thought entered your mind while you took a sip. You took your shoe off and then ran your foot along his legs, Felix almost choking on the soup. He looked at you suspiciously but you blinked at him innocently. As he drinks his glass of wine, you couldn't help but stare at his adam's apple bobbing up and down, you just wanted to kiss him and mark his neck right then and there since it's been two weeks since you last saw each other.

The main course was served and you both savored your meals then your birthday cake was served, the staff sang you a happy birthday song and you blew your candles happily as they all clapped. You took the first slice of cake with white frosting. As you both ate, you purposefully ran your foot again on his leg making him look at you who was licking the thick, white frosting on the spoon while staring straight into his eyes. Felix cursed at the sight and stood up from his seat and walked to you, his cock was semi-hard and you could quite see the bulge it was forming in his pants.

"You've got frosting on your mouth, sugar. Let me clean that up for you." He said and his next move surprised you. You thought he was going to wipe it with his thumb and then lick it but he straight up licked it from the side of your mouth. He smirked when he saw your face, frozen in shock.

"So sweet." He said, his voice lower than usual it was sexy but it wasn't like you not to get revenge so without a thought, you pulled him by his collar and smashed your lips into him which caught him off-guard but quickly caught on. You pulled back breathlessly.

"Your lips taste sweet too." You smiled, eyes still closed.

"I wonder what else would taste so sweet." He smirked.

After paying for the meal, you both went back to the hotel. Felix couldn't wait and was already peppering you with kisses and marks while on the elevator. Once you arrived in your room, you found your way to the bedroom. Felix quickly discarded his clothes and you did yours. Once your dress hit the ground, Felix's mouth hung agape seeing you wear a new baby pink lingerie set with ribbons. His knees went instantly weak and his dick hard once you wore the cat ears you placed on the bedside table.

"Like what you see, daddy?" You looked at him seductively as you crawled onto the bed.

"Fuck, sugar. And here I thought I'll be the one giving surprises for today." He growled as he discarded his pants leaving his underwear on. "Can't wait to spoil you some more tonight."

You lay down as he positioned himself between your legs, his hard bulge in contact with your soaking wet heat. He kisses you, his tongue swirling with yours as you tangled your hands in his soft, dark hair. His hands travel to your right breast, index finger circling over the clothed nipple making it hard. You moaned into his mouth when he started grinding on you.

"M-more." You whimpered, the friction not enough to satisfy you.

"You look so cute and sexy in this but you look sexier without it." He says as he unclipped your bra. "Keeping the ears on though."

Soon enough, you were both naked. He trailed kisses on your neck and collarbone and even with gentle bites and sucking, you were sure it was going to leave marks. He caressed your boobs, he loved how his big hands perfectly cover them. He licks your nipples and gave them equal attention and you could feel the tongue flicks on your hard nipples down to your core. He licked his way from your boobs down to your dripping cunt. He glides his tongue upwards to your clit making you shiver, he holds your thighs in place as he laps at your pussy and then circled his tongue around your sensitive bud which made you moan more loudly than usual.

"You taste so sweet like sugar. I'm getting addicted." He moaned. He then sucked your clit which made you see stars and you could already feel the familiar knot building in your stomach.

"Fuck. Just like that. Please, daddy. I want to cum." You whined as you get closer and closer to your climax.

"Such a good little girl for me, saying please and calling me daddy." He said. "Cum for me, sugar."

He hungrily licked and sucked on your sensitive bud as he slowly pushed a finger in. He quickens the pace which pushed you to the edge and it all came crashing down on you. He could feel your walls contracting around his fingers as you rode your orgasm on his tongue.

"Thank you, daddy." You sigh in bliss but still aroused.

"Such a good girl for me." He said and caressed your hair with his clean hand.

You lifted yourself up and pushed Felix to lie down. You gave him a quick kiss before lowering your head to his aching cock. He looked at you with pure lust and anticipation and then you wrapped your hand around his cock. Your hands were cute and tiny around his huge, thick, hard cock that you could barely wrap your fingers around it which turned him on even more, and with the ears, you looked like the perfect little kitten you are. You gave him kitten licks, tasting the salty precum first before taking him inside your mouth. He couldn't fit inside fully that's why you had your hands assist you. As you bob your head up and down, your hands moved in sync making his eyes roll to the back of his head. He tangled his hands in your hair, pushing you to take him deeper into your mouth but a little gently not to destroy your small throat.

"Come sit on my cock now, darling." He said while he sat up to lean on the headboard and you obliged positioning yourself on top of him and slowly sinking on his cock. You screwed your eyes shut while you were shaking with him stretching you out to the fullest. "That's it, sugar. Take daddy's big cock in."

There was a little pain at first due to the stretch but then turned to pleasure once you started moving. His hands found your tiny little waist and started helping you move up and down, moans and profanities spilling out of each other's mouths. His mouth finds your nipples again, circling his tongue and suckling on them while you roll your hips on him, another orgasm approaching. He felt your cunt tighten around his cock and he knew you were close and with your walls fluttering around his cock, he knew he wasn't gonna last long. He flips you over in a second and your back was now flat against the soft mattress before he slams his cock into you at a brutal pace, hitting your g-spot in the process.

"S-so good." You whimpered and clenched his dick. He felt your cunt getting tighter pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuck, sugar. You want my cum, yeah?" He pants, thrusting deeper and harder.

"Want your cum inside so bad. Claim me, breed me." You moaned and locked your legs around his waist.

"Shit. You really want daddy to fucking breed you, yeah?" He said and that made you clench around his cock, with one last thrust, he comes deep inside you, strings of hot cum filling you up nice and full. He kisses you one last time before pulling out and immediately stuck his two fingers inside you before his cum could leak out of you.

"Fuck daddy, yes I'm cumming!" You screamed as he fingered you, curling his fingers upward to hit that sweet spot inside of you.

"That's it, sugar. My good girl." He praises you while you creamed all over his cum-covered fingers.

You close your eyes in pure bliss as Felix went to get tissues to clean you up before he carries you to the extravagant bathroom, relaxing in the jacuzzi then doing another round and giving you mind-blowing orgasms all night long.

A few weeks later after that amazing night with Felix, you started to feel a little unwell. You stopped your travels for a while to rest but you felt worse than ever even after resting for a few days, you went to the doctor to get yourself checked. You haven't notified Felix yet, seeing that you might just be experiencing over-fatigue from the new workout routine you've been trying out and there's nothing too alarming about it but when you got yourself checked, the doctor told you your symptoms aligned with pregnancy. You even ordered two pregnancy tests in the lab and it was all positive.

You froze in shock not knowing how to react. You went home and thought about how you would tell Felix. There was something stated in the contract about this that in the case you get pregnant and he's the father, he would actually give child support but first he needed to run a paternity test to confirm. You abided by your contract terms of not seeing or sleeping with anyone other than him (for health purposes) so this baby is no doubt his. You couldn't sleep thinking about when and how to tell him about this and how he would react. Your phone buzzed and it showed a message notification from Felix.

My Sugar Lix 💗 Do you have plans tomorrow evening, sugar?

You Just staying at home. Why?

My Sugar Lix 💗 Let's have dinner tomorrow. I'll have my driver pick you up at 6. See you xx

And the opportunity presents itself.

The next day, you had gotten ready with your best outfit and everything. His driver picked you up promptly and you arrived at your favorite restaurant. It was surprisingly empty, Felix must have rented the whole place but what for? The two of you dine here often but he never rented the place out. You gulped, getting more nervous as you approached the lone table that was neatly decorated with petals and candles. Felix stood right there and kissed your hand. He pulled your chair out and you thanked him before you sat down. He jogs to his seat, smiling dearly at you. The two of you enjoyed a nice candlelight dinner. You gathered up your courage before speaking.

"I have something important to say."

The both of you froze as you said the words in unison.

"Go ahead." Felix gestured.

"No, you can go first." You said, trying to delay the inevitable. He shook his head.

"Now, that wouldn't be very gentleman-like of me now, would it? It's always ladies first in my book." He said. Well, he's not wrong. Of all the principles he sticks to, he never forgets this one and when you inhaled deeply, you just let the words flow out of your mouth.

"Felix, I'm pregnant." You said.

The moment of silence was deafening, his mouth hung agape with the shocking words that you just said.

"It's yours. I promise. We can take the paternity test stated on the contract or we can have an abo—" Before you could finish what you were saying, he ran up to you and hugged you before kissing you sweetly on your forehead.

"Sshh...I believe you, darling." He said before getting down on one knee which confused you more.

"Wha..what are you doing?" You asked him.

"I have been meaning to ask you something. I've planned it a few months ago." He said and pulled out a small, velvet box from his pocket.

"I'm totally confused.." you said, looking around all anxious. Is this what you think it is?

"Y/N, my sweet sugar, the light of my life for the past five years. I never knew I could meet such an amazing person after completely giving up thoughts about love and relationships but, I found someone I can see my future with, have kids with, and live a happy life with. Y/N, will you let me spoil you for the rest of your life?" He said and opened the small box, and there it revealed a beautiful, round-brilliant diamond ring that looked like it probably cost more than all his precious cars in total. "Will you marry me?"

Those four words were ringing in your ears. You knew you had fallen for this wonderful man a while back but you didn't know he did as well. So, without second thoughts, your answer is

"Yes!"

↳ reblogs, feedback, & comments are highly appreciated. it motivates me and it is the lifeline of my blog. To everyone who read and left a like, comment, and reblogged especially with text, thank you so much 정말 감사합니다 ♡

↳ requests are open click me !

↳ if you like to support my work, buy me a kofi ☕

⇁ love, jan ♡

[anxious-dumpling]

Chapter One: First Day at Playcare! (6,600 words.)

♡ Fandoms: BTS, Stray Kids!

REQUESTS OPEN :) RULES IN END NOTES!

♡ Characters: Little!Reader CG Jungkook CG Taehyung Playcare Owner Hoseok EA Felix EA Hyunjin Little Jimin, IN, Seungmin Everyone else is Teachers!

♡ Genre: SFW Littlespace, Fluff, Non Idol AU!

After moving from the rural city of Geochang to the bustling city of Seoul, your parents Jungkook and Taehyung decide to start you in a new Playcare Centre. Life is about to be so much different!

Time to be brave!

Notes: Welcome! ʕ•◡•ʔっ♡!

This is a very fluffy, very relaxed series that hopefully you can immerse yourself in!

There will be some angst but mostly fluff!

In this universe, Littlespace is permanent. If you don't know much about Littlespace, please research the topic elsewhere, since this story doesn't reflect how Littlespace functions in real life! Thank you!

The car's tyres grind against the tarmac as Jungkook pulls into the Little Sunshine Playcare's car park, a single storey building coming into view. It's made of caramel colored wood and black metal, a big welcome sign at the front that has a smiling cartoon sun attached to it. Arts and crafts are stuck to insides of the windows, so many colorful handprints reaching out to you as if giving you high-fives.

You tuck your chin into the soft collar of your pink sweater, peering at them nervously through your lashes.

As Jungkook chooses a parking space and turns off the engine, Taehyung twists around in his seat.

A kind smile graces his face. "Are you ready for your first day, sweetness?"

"Umm-..."

You glance back outside.

There's a man holding the hand of a colourfully dressed woman walking up to the front safety gate. He pulls the little knob and guides her through to the door, stopping to poke some buttons on a square thingy on the wall before heading inside.

"I dunno, Papa," You mumble as they leave your sight.

What if they don't wanna play with you? What if your teachers are meanies, and not nice like your Daddy and Papa?

"You don't know?" He sing-songs, pouting and reaching out to pinch your knee playfully. "Are you a little bit scared?"

Hang on.

You didn't say that!

Jungkook turns just in time to see you gasp, giggling to himself.

"I'm not scared!" You protest. "I'm not scared of anything, Papa!"

"Aww. I know."

Jungkook is sceptical. "No? Not even Lord Tirek?"

You think back to last night, when the big, scary monster appeared on the screen and you just had to hide in your Papa's arms.

You admit, "Maybe I'm scared of some things."

Taehyung smacks your Daddy on the shoulder, eyes wide behind his black glasses. "Luckily there's no Lord Tirek here then, right?"

"Right, Jagi," He agrees guiltily.

"Come on. It's time to get out now, sweetness."

You hug your teddy bear to your chest as they both exit the car.

Taehyung appears at your window, pulling your door open and leaning over you. He takes the big, red car seat buckle laying on your belly in his hands and clicks the two halves apart. The straps fall over your shoulders as he slots his hands under your armpits.

"Let's not forget your present," He reminds you, lifting you out of the seat and onto the ground.

As Jungkook rounds the car, he catches you chewing on your teddy's ear.

"Ah-ah," He chides, his tattooed hand coming up to pull it from your lips. "That's yucky. Be nice to Mr Bear, okay?"

"Sorry, Mr Bear."

"And?"

"Sorry, Daddy."

"Thank you."

"Here it is." Taehyung pulls out the bakery carry-box, slamming the door closed and carefully passing it to you. "Gentle hands."

"Good job." Jungkook praises. "It's not too heavy?"

"S'fine, Daddy."

Walking through the car park together, Taehyung strokes his hand through your hair, fixing the few fly-aways that have slipped from your piggy tails he very lovingly styled you in this morning. Your Papa is great at doing hair. Oh, and at picking outfits.

He's wearing a beige knitted vest over a plain white shirt, baggy pants, big shoes, and a beret.

The hairdresser's he works at lets him wear whatever he wants!

Jungkook, though; He has to wear a suit every day.

"Wooooow. Is that right?" Your taller parent exclaims. "You must be very strong?"

"Yes, I am, Daddy." You agree, plodding along.

For some reason, as he opens the gate and lets you through, both of them break out in chuckles above you. You don't know what's so funny about saying that! When you carried that heavy bag of rice at the shops yesterday, Daddy only had to help a little.

The door makes a clicking sound as the code is punched in, Jungkook pushing it open gentlemanly.

As you step into the foyer, you're suddenly hit with the feeling of being lost in a new place. You got lost in the supermarket once and it was so scary. Even scarier than Lord Tirek. You were about to be lost forever and ever until your Daddy finally found you.

You don't want to be alone again. No, no, no! A sad moan leaving your throat, you drop the bakery box onto the floor and wrap your arms around Jungkook's waist, smooshing your face into his breast through the black fabric. You're never letting go!

"Oh!" Taehyung exclaims, picking the small box back up. "Whoopsies."

"Whoopsies," Jungkook croons.

"Good morning," The lady at the desk greets, before her eyes widen. "Would you like some help?"

"We've got it." Your Papa assures her. "We're here to sign in Jeon-Kim Haen, please."

"Of course. Just a moment."

"I'm scared," You muffle.

"It's okay, baby." Jungkook soothes, rubbing your back. "Remember what you said before?"

I'm not scared of anything!

"I lieeeed." You complain. "I'm sc- scared of Lord Tirek and the air frier and scorpions and getting lost!"

Taehyung plucks a tissue from the reception desk box, bending to mop the yellow frosting off the floor.

Jungkook tsks sadly. "Maybe. But you're still very brave, Haen-ie."

"I'm b'ave?"

"Of course you are. Can you say, 'I'm Daddy and Papa's strong, brave girl'?"

"I'm- I'm Daddy and Papa's strong, b'ave girl."

"Good morning!" A new voice comes lilting into the room. You squeeze Jungkook even tighter, turning your head ever so slightly to get a look at the newcomer. A man as tall as your Daddy is approaching the three of you, dressed in an orange hoodie and looking like he swallowed the sun and all the stars for breakfast, the light trying to escape through his face. "Did we have a little accident?"

"We did," Tae laughs, throwing the used tissue and squished cupcake into a nearby bin.

"Don't worry. No harm done!"

His black hair is tousled neatly over his forehead, a rainbow lanyard laying against his chest.

"She's nervous about her first day." Jungkook explains, stroking your cheek. "Had a bit of a scare coming in."

The man smiles, his eyes turning into crescent moons. "You must be Haen-ie. I'm Hoseok-seonsangnim. It's nice to meet you!"

"Hello, Hoseok-seonsangnim." You murmur politely. "Are the cupcakes okay?"

Taehyung chuckles. "They're for her classmates."

"Wow, that's very nice of you." Hoseok gasps, looking through the little plastic windows. "Ooooh, yummy. They look perfect."

You let him know, "You can have one, too."

The three of them burst into soft laughter.

"Awww. Thank you, Haen-ie. You're a very kind girl. How about we go share them with everyone? Would you like to do that?"

You pause, thinking about it for a moment. "Okay."

"Awesome! Good idea." He praises, even though the idea was his, taking the box. "You'll have so much fun today!"

"You hear that? Come say goodbye to Papa-bear, sweetness."

You let go of your Daddy to fall into Taehyung's embrace, trying not to feel too scared as he wraps you up safely in his arms, rocking you gently from side to side and growling like a big, happy bear. When he pulls back, he kisses your forehead and passes you off to Jungkook, who gives you a quicker, lighter hug and reminds you not to chew on Mr Bear because he likes his ears to be clean.

"I won't, Daddy." You promise, earning another kiss to the forehead.

"Good girl. Daddy and Papa will come and pick you up later, okay?"

"Okay."

One last kiss. "We love you."

"Love you," Tae smiles.

"Love you, Daddy, Papa."

Hoseok offers his hand to you. "Come on, Haen-ie. Let's go share these yummy cupcakes, huh?"

Taking his hand in yours, you bravely let him guide you away.

"What flavor are the cupcakes, Haen-ie?"

"They're chocolate," You tell him, remembering what Papa asked the baker-lady for this morning.

"Oooh. I loooove chocolate." Your teacher gushes, giving your hand a bit of a squeeze as you walk side by side down the bright corridor. Splodgy paintings and crayon drawings hang from little wooden pegs along the wall, all the cats and dogs and dragons and two headed shark-giraffe hybrids all grinning down at you with silly faces and glittery decorations. "Is chocolate your favorite, too?"

"Uh-huh." You sheepishly nod. "I like it- I like it even betterer than vanilla, but Papa likes strawberry."

"He likes strawberry, does he? What about Daddy?"

"Daddy likes chocolate, too. He goes to the gym a lot, but he says it's healthy so we can eat lots!"

He laughs at that. "Well, I don't know about 'healthy', but it sure is delicious. Oh, look! Here's our classroom!"

You come to a stop in front of a door with a sticker on it that says, 'A2.'

Glancing back down the corridor, you notice the foyer is suddenly very empty. No Daddy, no Papa. Hoseok distracted you. You face forward again, taking a deep breath and telling yourself, I'm Daddy and Papa's brave girl, as he knocks on the door.

It opens. A man with long, wavy hair smiles sweetly at the both of you, moving to let you inside.

"Good morning!" He greets, closing the door behind you. "This must be our new friend, Haen-ie."

The classroom is bustling, filled with squealing laughter as Baby Shark plays loudly from somewhere.

"We're doing some dancing right now. It helps shake out all those early-morning jitters." He explains. "My name is Hyunjin-ie. It's so exciting to meet you! I'm one of the EAs in this room, so I'll be helping you get settled in today! Does that sound good?"

"What's an EA, Hyunjin-ie?"

"It means, 'Educational Assistant'. That means my job is to be your best friend and help you with your work!"

When you giggle, Hoseok adds, "We've got some delicious chocolate cupcakes here for everyone, too."

"Ohh! Cupcakes? I knew today was going to be a great day."

"Excuse me, friends!" Hoseok calls out over the song, getting everyone's attention. "I know we're all having fun dancing, but we have a new classmate here joining us today and she's very kindly brought us some delicious cupcakes to eat together!"

Exclamations break out across the room. "Cupcakes!!"

As the kids come running over, Hoseok sets the box down on the nearest activity table. "Everyone, say thank you to Haen-ie!"

"Thank you, Haen-ie!"

"Thank you, Haen-ie!"

"I love you, Haen-ie!"

A shy smile makes its way onto your face, realizing that nobody here is mean like you thought they would be.

Your classmates jump up and down like pieces of popcorn as Hoseok hands a small cupcake to you first, then sharing the rest of them to the gathered crowd, reminding them all to be patient and thanking them for their nice manners.

Peeling back your cupcake's paper liner, you take a big, big bite.

Mmm. Chocolate with sweet, yellow frosting and a tiny, bear-shaped cookie sticking out of it.

"Thank you, Heun-ie!" A boy exclaims, his chin smeared with frosting. "Dis is soooo yummy!"

You smile, "My Papa buyed them."

"I love your Papa."

"I love my Papa, too."

"Nice manners, Jimin-ie." Hoseok praises him, handing the last of the cupcakes to EA Hyunjin and two other men who must be teachers. "Haen-ie, you've already met Hyunjin, but this here is EA Yeongbok-ie and Teacher Yoongi-seonsangnim."

The first man, Yeongbok; he has blonde hair, the color of vanilla cookies, and a wonky, toothy smile sweeter than every cookie in the world. He gives you an enthusiastic wave, his voice deeper than even your Papa's. "Hi! Nice to meet you!"

The second man, Yoongi, looks a bit like a sleepy, smiley cat. "Hello, Haen-ie."

"Hello," You wave back.

"We can meet the rest of your teachers later, but Yeongbok here is our second EA, and Yoongi is our very talented music teacher."

The man snorts. "I play recorders, Hoseok."

"All the same."

"Do you like music, Haen-ie?" Yeongbok asks as he pulls out a wooden seat for you, sitting in the one next to it.

"Okay, everyone! Sit down to eat, please!"

As everyone gets settled, you sit down next to Yeongbok and Hyunjin while Yoongi walks off with his cupcake.

"I like to sing with my Daddy and Papa," You tell the friendly EAs, your two new best friends.

"You guys just moved here from Geochang, didn't you?"

"Yeah," The mention of your old home sends a pang through your heart. It was a lot different than here. The streets were lined with wild grass and old, proud houses, always a breathtaking view of the mountains sitting on the horizon. "We got here two days ago."

"Well, we're very happy to have you here." Hyunjin smiles like a pretty prince. "What do you like about Seoul so far?"

Oh, um... You've never thought about that up until now.

"I like Han River," You guess, popping the biscuit in your mouth. "And we're going to Teseum Teddy Bear museum this weekend."

"Uwaaah," Yeongbok exclaims, "That sounds exciting?"

You nod, chewing, the wet crumbs falling from your lips and into your lap. "Bea'ws are my fav'ite animal."

"Oooh, careful," He warns, taking the handkerchief out of his pants' pocket and using it to clean you up.

"Oh! Sorryyyy."

"Don't worry." He brushes the crumbs off your sweater, and then your bear's fat, brown nose. "Look. It's as if nothing ever happened!"

"Daddy doesn't like it when I get my things dirty," You babble, giving the teddy a kiss as an apology, "Or chew on Mr Bear's ears."

"Aaah," Hyunjin hums understandingly, "So you're going to be one of the messy ones."

"You're going to love art class."

"I love art class!" A nearby boy butts in. "I made a painting for my Mommy yesterday!"

"Yes, and you used yourself as the canvas, didn't you?" He jokes, pinning him with an cool, sassy look.

The boy does nothing but giggle, his teeth covered in bits of chocolate cake, before running off to join his friends again.

"That's Jeongin-ie."

As you bite and swallow the last chunk of your cupcake, Yeongbok stands from the small seat, leaving his own cupcake on the table and offering his hand to you. "All done? Let's go put your bag away in the cubby before class starts, okay?"

"Okay, Yeongbok-ie." You agree, grabbing his pale hand and following him.

He takes you over to the wall besides the classroom door, where the cubby shelves are all stuffed with the other Little's backpacks, books, spare clothes, and water bottles. Coloured strips of paper are velcroed above each one, their names printed on them.

'Jimin', 'Jeongin', 'Maru', 'Nathan', and even your name! You point it out to Yeongbok, who chuckles in that delicate, tinkling way of his that makes it sound like he's a magical xylophone. He takes off your purple backpack and places it in the cubby below your tag.

Returning to the sitting area together, you spot Hyunjin and Yoongi helping tidy the aftermath.

"This one was yours," Yoongi nods toward an empty liner, wiping down the table with a cloth. "Go put it in the trash, please."

Hyunjin adds, "You too, Jeongin."

"Okayyyy." The boy sing-songs. "Fine."

Scooping up your trash and dumping it in the nearby bin, everybody works hard to clean up before settling down in their assigned seats at the activity tables strewn across the room. You're unsure where to go, awkwardly hugging Mr Bear, but sweet EA Yeongbok is there to help you again, taking your hand and guiding you to a table near the toy boxes. Jeongin and Jimin are sitting there, too.

"Ooh, Haen-ie. Look." The man points at the back of the chair. "What's that?"

You follow his finger.

Wow! It's another tag with your name on it!

"My name!" You exclaim proudly as you sit down. "This is my chair, Yeongbok-ie!"

"You're right. It is your chair," The man praises this genius discovery, as he drags another chair over and sits next to you.

Hyunjin and Yoongi are both sitting at other tables, joking with the kids around them.

"Hi! I'm Jimin!" The boy in front of you cheers.

"I'm Jeongin!"

"These are your table-mates, Haen-ie. Say hello?"

"Hello," You greet, using Mr Bear's fluffy arm to wave to them. "It's my first day today!"

"Why is it your first day?"

"We moved here." You explain, "And my old playcentre is too far away to visit, now."

"Awwww," Jimin pouts.

"That's so sad!"

"It is a little bit sad," Yeongbok validates, his tone comforting, "But she's going to make lots of new friends here, isn't she?"

Jeongin nods so fast you think his head might fall off. "I'll be your friend, Haen-ie!"

"Me, too! Do you like dinosaurs?"

Glancing at the T-Rex printed on his blue sweater, you shrug. "Um... A little."

"Oh." He deflates, perking right back up again afterwards. "It's okay! I'll still be your friend!"

"Yeah! He's friends with me, and I like sharks, but he doesn't like sharks, and we're still friends."

"Okay, guys," Yeongbok interrupts, placing a finger over his lips, "Sh, sh, sh. Let's listen to Hoseok-seonsangnim, okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay!"

"Okay!"

"It's time for our first class of the day, friends." You turn your attention to the front of the classroom, peering over Jimin's shoulder as Hoseok drags the wheelie whiteboard into view, uncapping an orange marker and smiling brightly at his class. "Now, Yoongi-seonsangnim and I were nice enough to let you guys have some cupcakes before class this morning, weren't we?"

"Yeah!" You all reply at once.

"Yeah! Fun, right? So do you think you'll all be able to put your learning caps on, now?"

As he mimes putting on a big hat, you all copy him.

Even Yoongi, Hyunjin, and Yeongbok, too!

"Perfect!" He lowers his hands. "Does anyone know what we're going to be learning today?"

The whole class starts giggling hysterically as he glances at the laminated chart on the wall, which very obviously reads, Monday, 1. Music, 2. Arts and Crafts, 3. Snack Break, 4. Math, 5. Nap Time, 6. Lunch Break, 7. Reading, in bubble letters.

Everyone shouts out, "Music!"

"It's Music!"

"Music, Hoseok!"

"It's what?" Your teacher squints, cupping his ear. "We're learning what?"

You join in the chaos, shouting, "Music!!"

"Aaaaah. Music! Why didn't you say that the first time?"

Silly Hoseok-seonsangnim. You guys did say that!

"Let's start with our word of the day first, and then we get out the instruments." Turning and writing, Word of the Day, at the top of the whiteboard, he faces forward and looks directly at you. "How about you choose today's word, Haen-ie?"

Oh! You?! 

"There's no wrong answers," Yeongbok encourages you when he notices your apprehension. "What about Bear?"

You give a quick nod. "You say, please?"

He happily reports back to your teacher, "The word of the day is Bear!"

"Oooh. Good choice. Let's all use the letters at our tables and have a go spelling Bear!" 

"Oh! I know, I know!" Jimin exclaims, wiggling impatiently as your EA reaches into the middle of the table and pulls out a velcro board and a cup of felt letters from the basket of supplies, splaying them out. "Let me do it! I know!"

He grabs the pile of letters, pulling out a flimsy G character and sticking it to the board.

"Good job, Jimin-ie." Yeongbok slides the letters in front of you. "Haen-ie's turn, now. We have to work as a team!"

Humming thoughtfully, you sound out the word Bear in your head. There's a Guh, and then an Ohhhhh. Must be O.

You stick the O character below the G.

When it's Jeongin's turn, he sticks down an M character, completing the simple Hangul symbol.

"Is everybody ready? Show us your boards!"

Chatter fills the room again as Yeongbok holds up the board for you.

Hoseok glances from table to table, nodding, "Correct! Yep, correct! Well done! Yeongbok's table, correct!"

Your EA gives you a high-five.

Yay!

"Hyunjin's table," He sucks in a breath at the last group, "I'm afraid that's not quite right."

Everyone at the table groans in defeat and starts throwing accusations around.

"I told you it was just one M!"

"Hyunjinnnnn!"

"You didn't listen!"

Yoongi's laughing behind his hand, shoulders shaking.

The kids keep heckling him as he grumpily throws down the letter in his hand.

Yeongbok laughs, "Maybe you need to move to the baby's room, Hyung? What do you guys think?"

"Baby's room!" The girl next to Hyunjin chants. "Baby's room!"

Hyunjin sticks his tongue out at her.

"Okay. Okay," Hoseok chuckles, taking back control of the room as Yoongi stands up. "Time for music, now."

When Namjoon checks his watch, he announces, "Snack break, everyone!"

Jumping up from your seat and pulling your bucket hat on, you can't wait to eat!

You file out into the play yard with everyone else, finding a spot at one of the picnic tables. Hoseok and Namjoon-seonsangnim wheel out two carts of food, approaching each table and handing out the small bowls. Namjoon; You met him during Arts and Crafts. He's tall and muscly like a sports teacher, but he actually teaches art and English, his face round like a toffee candy, both cheeks dimpled.

"Hello, everyone." He greets, placing a plastic bowl and spoon in front of you. "Did you have fun in art today?"

"Thank you," You remember your manners, licking your lips at the sight of the sliced fruit and yoghurt.

"You're welcome, Haen-ie."

As you stick your spoon in, Seungmin exclaims, "Yeah! I maked a rainbow! It was really pretty."

"'Made'." Hoseok calls out.

The boy corrects himself. "I made a rainbow."

"Yes, I saw. It was pretty."

Gulping down the dollop of yoghurt and crunchy apple pieces, you gaze out at the patch of sunlight nearby. Your class's art creations are drying in the sun, the pieces of paper swaying in the breeze, wrinkled from all the glue and pom poms on them.

"I made a dinosaur with Jimin," You garble as Namjoon walks away with the cart, your mouth full.

The boy nods. "It was a brontosaurus. Brontosauruses are the ones with the-!"

"The long necks," The girl across from him rolls her eyes. "We know."

Your dinosaur's neck was five pompoms long!

He gasps. "You like dinosaurs, too, Ahyun?!"

"No. You just talk about them all the time." She glances up from her bowl. "Haen, you have glue on your elbow."

You do? Shrugging a shoulder, you peer down at the side of your arm and scratch the dried flake off.

"And paint on your shoulder."

Oh, she's right. There's a pink splat on your sweater. You hope your Daddy won't be too upset.

"And on your hand."

... Oh.

"She got really messy," The girl beside her giggles. "She's like my baby brother, and he's only one!"

"I think she's messier," She jokes, making your cheeks go hot.

"Are you one, Haen-ie?"

"No. I'm nineteen," You mumble uncomfortably, hiding your paint-covered hand under the table. "And four on the inside."

"You should go sit somewhere else," Ahyun chirps. "I don't want you to get me dirty!"

"She won't," Jimin frowns.

"Yes, she will!"

Whatever. You don't want to sit with Ahyun, either. You pick up your bowl and stand from the wooden bench, storming over to the playground and ducking under one of the platforms. You hide away in a dark corner to finish eating your snack in peace.

Tears start burning at the edges of your eyes when you catch a second glimpse at your ruined sweater.

"Haen-ie? Sweetie?"

Sniffling, you watch Hyunjin as he searches the playground, coming to a sudden stop when he sees you. He looks like he's about to explain that you're not allowed to eat in the playground, but something in his expression changes and he crouches down.

"Haen-ie, sweetie, what are you doing all the way over here?" He asks. "What's the matter?"

Glancing behind him, you catch the other teachers watching the two of you, before they go back to what they were doing.

Hyunjin crawls in and sits beside you, long hair framing his face as he tilts his head at you.

"Haen-ie?"

You pout, "I don't wanna sit at the tables."

"No?"

You shake your head, poking sadly at your yoghurt.

"You don't want to sit with your friends? Jimin and Jeongin?" He tries, only to be met with silence. "Me and Yeongbok-ie?"

You admit, "I don't wanna sit with Ahyun."

He pauses. "Did Ahyun say something a little bit mean?"

You nod. "Her friend said I'm like her baby brother because I'm messy. And then Ahyun said I'm even messier than him because I got paint and glue on my clothes in art class, and then she said I can't sit with them, so I came over here to hide."

Sympathy washes over his face. He muses, "That wasn't very nice of her, was it?"

"No, it wasn't," You agree.

"Did it make you sad?"

"Uh-huh." It did make you sad. "I didn't get messy on purpose, Hyunjin-ie. It was an a'sident."

"Awww, Hyunjin-ie knows it was an accident, sweetie. And you know what?"

"What?"

"Art class is all about getting messy, little friend. Wouldn't it be boring if the paint only got on the paper?"

"My Daddy doesn't like it when I get dirty. He likes it when things are perfect and nice and clean."

Your Papa calls him a 'Perfectionist'.

"You're already perfect and nice," He argues. "And Yeongbok and I are going to make sure you're clean, too."

"You are?"

"Yeah. Yeongbok is new, too, you know. He's only been here a week. And he says I should be in the baby's room. Pssh. After art class ended, I had to teach him where to find the extra wet wipes, but you went outside to eat before we could clean you up!"

Ohhh. You remember now! After class ended, Yeongbok told you to wait, but you forgot and ran outside!

"I was too excited to eat!"

"Yes, you were." He chuckles, taking your hand. "Come on. Let's go get clean!"

"Okay!"

He helps you crawl back out from the playground, leaving your bowl at the table and stepping inside the empty classroom.

It's much quieter in here. The aircon hums above you, tables all clean and glossy. You see Yeongbok standing behind the partition of the exposed bathroom area, peeling open a package of wet wipes and digging through your purple backpack.

Both of you approaching him, Yeongbok gasps dramatically with a big, sunny smile. "Haen-ie!"

Hyunjin squeezes your hand.

"I'm sorry I didn't wait for you, Yeongbok-ie," You apologize sweetly. "I got distracted and forgot to wait for you!"

"Aw. That's okay." He says, pulling out a spare shirt with a big strawberry on it. "Let's get you into some clean clothes."

The two nice men work together to remove your paint-covered sweater and stuff it back into your backpack, wiping down your fingers and palms with the wet wipes afterwards. Yeongbok quickly dresses you in the green shirt and adjusts your bucket hat.

"There we go," He celebrates, zipping your backpack up. "That was nice and easy, wasn't it!"

"Thank you, Yeongbok-ie and Hyunjin-ie!"

"See? Nothing bad about getting messy." The older EA holds his hand out to you. "Come on. Let's go finish eating, little friend."

Uh oh.

"Do I have to?"

Yeongbok makes a confused face. "I thought you were excited to eat?"

"I am, but," You twist your shoe into the floor. "Ahyun was mean to me."

He frowns. "Oh, no."

"Hyunjin-ie will make sure Hoseok-seonsangnim tells Ahyun's parents she was being mean to one of our friends," Hyunjin promises. "And you can sit with me, if you like, or we can ask Jimin and Jeongin if they want to move tables with you?"

You wanna sit with all of them!

"Let's all sit together!"

"Okay, sweet friend." He praises as you take his hand. "Let's go. Your yoghurt is waiting for you!"

You giggle. "I'm coming, yoghurt!"

Hyunjin guides you back into the play yard, approaching the picnic table.

"Excuse me, guys," The man politely interrupts, pointing to a nearby empty table. "I'm going to take my friend Haen-ie over to the kind-friends table over there, and we want to know who else is going to join us."

"Ooooh," Ahyun's friend exclaims. "I do!"

Not wanting to be left out, Ahyun agrees and raises her hand. "Me too, Hyunjin!"

"Sorry, Jenna and Ahyun. This table is only for kind friends. You weren't being a very kind friend to Haen-ie today, were you?"

She gawks. "Wh-?!"

"Maybe when you're feeling a little bit kinder," He suggests, "You can come and join us later."

As she scoffs angrily, Jimin raises his hand. "Can I come, Haen-ie?"

"What about me?" Jeongin adds. "I wanna sit with you!"

"Me, too!" Seungmin agrees. "I'm a kind friend!"

You go pink under all the attention. "Okay!"

"Yay!"

"Let's go!"

"Kind-friends table!"

The four of you grab your bowls and go sit at the other, better table together. Hyunjin offers his lap to you since you might still be a little sad. Even though you're feeling better now, you still climb up onto his thigh, while the three boys sit around you.

"There you go," Hyunjin cooes, bouncing you up and down a little. "Ooooh. Apple? What else did you get?"

"I got banana," Seungmin answers, pointing at his friend's bowl. "Jimin got some, too!"

Jeongin pouts, "I got grapes."

"He hates grapes," The boy beside him explains helpfully.

You ask, "Do you like apple?"

When he nods, you hold your bowl over his, using your spoon to flick the apple into it.

"Thanks, Haen-ie!" He gasps, before giving you his grapes. "You can have mine!"

"Thanks, Jeongin-ie."

"Woooow," Hyunjin exclaims, "Nice sharing, you guys."

"My Papa says it makes our friends sad when we don't share," You tell him. "And I don't like it when people are sad, Hyunjin-ie."

The man suddenly clutches his heart through his baggy shirt, wincing like he's in pain. "Dawww."

You giggle at his outburst. "What, Hyunjin-ie?"

He makes a Grrrrrr sound as he mimes grabbing your cheeks. "You're adorable, that's what!"

You push his hands away. "Silly Hyunjin!"

Yeongbok comes into view as you all laugh together, setting his bowl on the table. "Hey! Don't have all the fun without me!"

"How are you guys going over here?"

As Hoseok approaches your table, you pout your lips around the pencil in your mouth.

Not good. Math is hard!

He takes notice just like all good teachers do. "Needing some help there, Haen-ie?"

You mumble, "Yes, p'ease."

Yeongbok gently pulls your hand away. "We don't chew on pencils, little friend. There you go."

As he goes back to helping Jeongin, Hoseok takes a seat next to you. "Tell Hoseok-seonsangnim what you need help with."

"Yeongbok-ie is busy with Jeongin and there's-! There's too many steps!"

"Ahhh, I see. Don't worry. Let's break them down together, shall we? Can you read the question to me?"

You look down at your paper, making sure to ignore the cartoon gardener at the bottom because he's annoying you. "Taeyun buys some-... some flower seeds. He plants five seeds in normal soil, and five seeds in special mulch. The seeds in the... in the special mulch grow double the flowers than the seeds in the regular soil grow. How many flowers will he have when they're done growing?"

See?! That's super hard.

Taehyun should ask somebody else about his flowers, because you have no idea.

"That was great reading," Hoseok praises you, before grabbing a blank piece of paper and some crayons from the supply box. "I've got an idea. You know what helps me when I can't figure out a question? Drawing it out!"

Your eyes widen. "There's questions you can't figure out?"

A laugh escapes him. "Yes, there are. Even teachers need help, sometimes."

"But you're super smart?"

"The only way to get smart is to be wrong a lot of times first." He explains, drawing some dots on the page. "Let's draw what we need to know. First, I'll draw the seeds... Five normal seeds on the left and five special seeds on the right."

When he's finished, he hands you a green crayon.

"Now let's draw the flowers coming out of the seeds."

"Okay. I'll try!"

"That's what I like to hear, friend. You should draw two flowers coming out of each special seed, remember?"

Nodding, you get to work drawing the stems.

After that, you add a yellow ball and colorful petals to each one.

"Let's add some ladybugs!" You suggest, reaching for the red crayon.

"Hang on. We don't need any ladybugs right now." He reminds you. "Maybe you can draw some in art class tomorrow, okay?"

Awwww. "Okay."

"Let's count the flowers instead. Ready?"

"Uh-huh. One, two, three," You concentrate hard and count every flower. "Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen!"

"Fifteen. Well done!" Hoseok exclaims with a big, excited grin, giving you a double high five. "You did it!"

"I did it!"

"Go ahead and write the answer down and we'll have a go at the next one."

"Okay! Thank you, Hoseok-seonsangnim."

"You're very welcome, sunshine."

By the time you've filled out the math booklet, you're in serious need of a nap. Being smart is lots of effort. How does he do it?

Luckily, it's nap time.

You grab Mr Bear and head into the toy area, where the EAs have moved the furniture out of the way and set up sleeping mats on the floor. Your Papa packed your softest, pinkest bedding today. You kneel on the cotton fabric, yawning and laying your head on your pillow as Hyunjin pulls the curtains over the windows. Hundreds of stars light up the walls when Yeongbok switches on the lamp.

"Who needs a little extra help getting to sleep today?" He asks quietly, switching on the speaker next.

The sound of somebody playing the piano graces your ears.

A couple of kids raise their hands, including you. No matter how tired you are, it's still scary falling asleep in a new place.

Hyunjin comes over to you.

"Close your eyes, sweetie," He whispers, settling beside your mat.

With him slowly stroking your hair, you're drifting off into dreamland before you even realize it.

At the end of the day, while you're all sitting on the rug, Hoseok asks, "Who here had a good day today?"

"Me!" You all shout.

"Let's share three things we're grateful for today," He says, gesturing to a student. "Let's start with you, Jihyun."

She tilts her head. "Ummm... Art class, Yeongbok helping me find my pencil when I lost it, and... Oh! Haen's cupcakes!"

"Oooh. They were yummy, weren't they? Jimin?"

He's got his answer right away. "Meeting my new friend Haen-ie!!"

Jeongin's got his, too! "Haen-ie sharing her fruit with me!!"

"Aw, those are great answers. I'm grateful for our new friend, too."

When it's your turn, you shyly stare back at the class. It's difficult to choose only three things! You're grateful for the EAs, who made your first day as easy as possible for you, Yoongi for making you laugh as he taught you how to hold the recorder, Namjoon for opening the glue pot for you when it was stuck, and Hoseok for being such a great teacher, even if he's bad at drawing flowers.

"I'm grateful for my friends and my teachers and the EAs... and nap time, and brontosauruses."

That might've been five things... But Hoseok doesn't mind. "Aww. I'm so glad, friend."

Hyunjin does that thing again where he looks like he's going to die.

Yeongbok chuckles, petting his shoulder in support.

Parents start gathering in the corridor outside the classroom as the rest of the kids share their three things. You keep an eye out for your Daddy and Papa, your legs squirming and your heart racing like it's trying to break out of you and go find them.

The last time you glance through the window, they're both there!

When they spot you, their faces light up like they always do when they spot you in school assemblies and sport events.

They wave to you.

"Daddy, Papa," You cheer under your breath, trying to keep your hand in your lap. "Daddy, Papa are here."

"Okay, my friends." Hoseok eventually concludes. "I'll see you all tomorrow!"

"See you tomorrow!!"

"Bye, Hoseok!!"

"It's home time!!"

As soon as he opens the door, you jump up and run over to the big group of parents, straight into your Papa's open arms.

"There you are!" Taehyung gasps happily, holding you tight. "There's our sweet girl!"

"Papa!!"

"Did you have a good day?" He asks you, kissing your hair and letting you hug Jungkook next. "You didn't miss us too much?"

"I missed you so much," You muffle into Jungkook's button shirt. "But I had a good day at the same time!"

"We missed you, too," Your Daddy chuckles.

As Hyunjin approaches the three of you, handing your backpack and artwork to Jungkook, you pull away slightly.

"Here are Haen's things," He smiles.

He thanks the man. "Wow. Is this a dinosaur, baby?"

"I made it with my new friend, Jimin! He said I could keep it because he has a lot of dinosaur drawings at his home already."

"It's so cute."

Taehyung adds, "I love it."

"She had a good day," The EA smiles. Yeongbok and Hoseok are talking to some other parents behind him, handing more backpacks and artworks out. As Jungkook gives your dinosaur craft to his husband and unzips your bag, making sure everything is in there, Hyunjin explains, "We did have a little hiccup this morning, though. You'll find her sweater in there. It just has some paint on it."

Guilt squeezes you as you watch Jungkook turn the fabric over in his hand. "Sorry, Daddy."

"It's okay, Haen-ie." He shakes his head, zipping it up. "Daddy just wanted you to have fun today, okay? We can wash it out."

"I also got crumbs on Mr Bear," You admit.

He laughs at your sudden burst of honesty, slinging your bag over his shoulder. "We can wash him, too."

"He'll love it," Tae agrees. "It'll be like a spa day."

Some people might think your Daddy is the stricter parent, but he actually breaks more of his own rules than you do, and it's him who's always spoiling you with new toys, treats, and clothes! He's a big softie!

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow then, Haen-ie!" Hyunjin says. "High-five!"

"Buh-bye, Hyunjin-ie!"

After you smack hands, Taehyung and Jungkook thank him again and they each take one of your hands, leading you out of the Playcentre. They listen intently as you babble about every detail of your day all the way to the car, where Tae lifts you in.

"Did everyone enjoy the cupcakes?" He asks, helping you thread your arms through the straps.

"Oh! Yeah! They were really yummy, Papa."

"No dessert tonight, then, I guess." He pouts, clicking the buckle together, before grinning cheekily at you. "Just kidding."

You stick your tongue out at him.

"Hey," Your Daddy chuckles, watching you in the rear-view mirror. "Save that little tongue for your ice cream tonight."

"We're having ice cream?!"

Tae closes your door and settles into the passenger seat as the car starts. "Didn't we tell you? Brave girls get ice cream, baby bear."

"Yay! Thank you!"

Cupcakes, new friends, a good nap, and ice cream?

You wish every day could be your first day at Playcare!

When you get a whole bowl's worth of chocolate ice cream all over your pyjamas that night, Jungkook just fondly smiles at you and sneaks you a second scoop while Tae isn't looking. He taught you that chocolate is healthy when you want it to be, after all!

Notes:

Please share your thoughts and leave some suggestions for future chapters! ʕ•◡•ʔっ♡!

Things I won't write. - Smut. - Self-harm. - Intense angst. - Anything unrelated to Haen or Littlespace. Everything else goes!

Current roles. - Taehyung: Parent Caregiver. - Jungkook: Parent Caregiver. - Jin: ??? - Namjoon: Art / English Teacher. - Hoseok: Homeroom Teacher / Playcare Owner. - Yoongi: Music Teacher. - Jimin: Little. - Bangchan: ??? - Lee Know: ??? - Han: ??? - Changbin: Sports Teacher. - Hyunjin: EA / Art Teacher. - Felix: EA. - Seungmin: Little. - Jeongin: Little.

I encourage you to be friendly and patient with me! ^◡^

[devilfic]

#✦✎: dc.

disclaimer: I do not consent to reposting of my work, credit given or not. if you’d like to share my work, please share direct links from my tumblr or my AO3. thank you!

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! ♡

✦: batman | battinson!bruce wayne

✎: series

where two are joined, relentlessly [completed] ↳ gotham city’s bound to discover it’s got a prized bachelor on its hands. selina kyle got it, you got it, and you’d quite like if it stopped there, thanks.

I. go, go, loverboy II. best-kept memories III. sick day IV. nameless V. ballroom blitz VI. favors for a friend VII. clean slate VIII. happy birthday, mr. wayne IX. from now on

right place, right time [ongoing] ↳ you took the hippocratic oath. you swore to help those in need. you didn’t sign up for a man crawling through your apartment window bleeding to death, but you’ve unfortunately seen worse.

I. right place, right time II. of niceties and awkward second meetings III. the tower IV. the hierophant V. curiosity killed the cat VI. do you trust me? VII. twenty-one questions VIII. whatever keeps you around vignette. strawberry candies IX. I'm the well they're gonna drag you down X. we don't fight fair XI. I only have eyes for you.

honeymoon [ongoing] ↳ in a gamble to retake his place as ceo of wayne enterprises, bruce wayne is strong-armed into an arranged marriage with you.

you finding out his secret identity is only one of his problems at the moment.

I. honeymoon II. marriage bed III. on the clock IV. sugar-coating V. sins of the mother

✎: one shots

got you ↳ the wayne family has a special kind of love language.

at the front steps ↳ eventually, the well will dry up. eventually, your patience will wear thin. eventually, you will leave him. of few things he was more certain. unfortunately, how much you loved him wasn’t one of them.

ghosts ↳ there’s a split second between dreaming and waking where the dream exists in the real world: the tender loss of a dream unrealized, and the relief of a nightmare severed. your nightmare is still clinging to you.

good grief ↳ you and batman have something special going on. obviously, people notice.

hard-knock life ↳ even with the riddler locked away in arkham, his followers manage to haunt bruce to this day. thankfully, you’re more than willing to help your fiancé tie up all his loose ends… even if they are a bit ridiculous. or four times the riddler’s followers make a threat on bruce’s life and the one time alfred shoots them for it.

nocturnal animal ↳ okay, maybe the caped crusader is a vampire. and maybe you just want to know what it would feel like for him to sink his teeth into you. it’s not weird.

I want us both to eat well ↳ “It’s so complicated staying alive sometimes.” — your friendship with the elusive vigilante is a special one in many ways.

✎: headcanons

bruce and reader’s mother/misc. headcanons [where two are joined, relentlessly universe]

love languages

bruce making a playlist for his partner

bruce with a gothic s/o

wedding headcanons with bruce wayne

sleeping headcanons with bruce wayne

✎: drabbles

bruce’s first family christmas with you and dick

reader with a villain mbti

dick finds out bruce is batman

bruce's diary [right place, right time]

bruce is a little stalker

✦: catwoman | selina kyle

✎: headcanons

jealous!selina kyle

✎: drabbles

secret admirer and roommate!selina

✦: the riddler | edward nashton

✎: series

boogeyman [hiatus] ↳ he is your shadow as much as you are his. one person, one reflection. you made a deal with the devil and this is the price you pay for redemption.

I. boogeyman II. no god in gotham

✎: one shots

first snow ↳ life wasn’t all pain, there was you. there was you.

✎: headcanons

young!edward nashton headcanons

[valentine-cafe]

. ˚◞♡ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ( verse 9819 denara )  sorcerer x reader, healer x reader ⊹ ۪ ࣪

𖹭. you fall in love with the pretty sorceress who keeps visiting your flower shop 

oh. . . thinking of working in a flowershop and greeting each and every familiar and new face you see everyday when you open it.

you adore your job, through thick and thin.

even when those with saddened frowns came to get their flowers for lost ones. or those with big smiles who came for flowers to their new babies. some came because of married, some found someone. . .

but most times, customers simply wished to buy flowers for friends, familiy, or themselves.

you had memorised by now what people would come to get.

mrs. lilian would adore having her bouquets decorated in bluebells and white lilies and blue wisteria.

while the young mr. ulrik would enjoy his sunflowers and lady's bedstraw

you loved it. you loved the community it created.

the establishment had been passed down to you by your parents, who had raised you with loving arms. now old, but still supporting your every step and decision you make in life. it was their unconditional love that got you here.

and they certainly also were supportive of you when you had fallen for one of your new frequent customers. a woman with pitch black hair, gothic makeup and style. she was so pretty it hurt. everytime she greeted you with that soft and chiming voice you felt your heart stutter and squeeze.

you’d seen her around here for a month now. her eyes black but full of so much life. you’d get flustered when she looked into yours. your fingers fiddling with the bouquets awkwardly.

lucky was the lover who had someone like her. she composed the most lovely bouquets.

white and pink camella, pieced together with a touch of calla lilies and red chrysanthemum. and one of your own favourite bouquets she recently ordered: white clover, irises, pink roses and blue salvia.

Denara, is her name. gods. it is beautiful.

you could have sworn that even the mention of it made all of the flowers bloom in relief of her name. and whenever she walked in, you saw how the room lit up in such a way you couldn’t describe. you felt as though you walked on clouds.

“thank you so much for making all of these bouquets each and every day,” she had hummed out with that soft smile of hers. beautiful, it made you slack as you leaned against the counter. clearing your throat.

“sharing them with all around the city and helping decorate for festivals.” she continues, handing you over a small box. and with your eyes flicking down to it and looking up at her again in confusion. you stood up straight again and smiled sheepishly.

“ah uh— you don’t have to, really. it’s always been a passion of mine-” you chuckles, rubbing the back of your neck and taking in a deep breath. only for it to stutter when her hand extends out, asking for yours.

“you do not have to hold it if you do not want to, but please. take the gift.” her giggle, that giggle. your knees wobbled at the sound of it, face flaring with a newfound red heat and hue.

very slowly you take her hand. yours trembling, while her one remained still as it guided you down to the box to help you unwrap it.

“I got it for you, because it reminded me of you and your lovely presence. I would love to get to know you more.” she hums softly, watching as you neatly open the box. so carefully, it made her chuckle. look up at you fondly.

“my boyfriend—” your heart dropped, brows twitching a bit. “— he says he’d really like to get to know you too. if you would be alright with that.”

confusion hit you like a trolly, and you looked up at her with such expression too. “what?”

she smiles and nods down at the gift.

“i’ll continue. open it.”

you look back down at your hands holding the delicate, small black box. opening it slowly and gasping when you saw a pair of red tulip earrings, with goldleaf covered edges of the leaves and small teadrop shaped black jades hanging at the ends of the tulip.

“we both commissioned this for you.”

at those words you felt yourself and the way you had forgotten to breathe, a small awkward laugh leaving you as you raised an index finger up to signify you needed a moment before fainting into a chair. leaving her a confused and slightly panicked mess.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hello, dear! ♡ I saw your requests were back open and I was wondering if I could request more Thranduil smut where the female reader (human) does everything she can to befriend Legolas just so she can get into Thranduil's pants "Do you think I don't know what you are doing?" 🔥🔥🔥 (modern or not. I will let you decide!). Please and thank you so much. I hope you are having a great week.

I hope you like this!

“Mr. Oropherion”

Prompt: "Do you think I don't know what you're doing?" | Setting: Library, and then the bedroom.

Pairing: Modern Thranduil x Fem Reader (Second person POV)

Themes: Smut | Soft | Slow burn | Modern AU

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol use and drunkenness | Age difference | Nicknames | Degradation | Dirty talk | Kissing | Authority kink | Penetrative sex

Word count: 4.3K words

Summary: Finishing university and having to spend the night at your best friend’s place takes a surprising turn when his father reciprocates the feelings you had been secretly harbouring for him.

Rating: 🔥🔥🔥| Minors DNI | 18+

Want to be tagged? Want to know the rules? Read all here.

It was close to four in the morning when you brought Legolas back home.

The graduation party had been a resounding success; everyone had enjoyed themselves. Legolas got into a drinking game with Gimli, and neither backed down. Bottles quickly emptied, stacks of glasses grew, and then, just when it looked like the contest was heading for a draw, Gimli burped, his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head, and he fell right off his chair. That was when you knew the time had come to take your friend home. Gimli was taken by Aragorn, Boromir, and his brother, so he could sleep at their place.

"My hands tingle," Legolas suddenly mumbled, before slumping deeper into the seat and snoring loudly.

You shook your head and smiled to yourself. Tingling hands? He’s going to be in for one hell of a hangover, you mused. And begging for aspirin the moment he opened his eyes—or perhaps a quick death. Maybe both, depending on how bad the after-effects were. You turned your attention to the road. It was empty at this time, but the incessant rain only served to slow down the taxi. Still, you could make out the bright neon lights and the lightning that split the sky in white, hot flashes of light. The residential area of the city soon neared, and you gaped at all the apartment buildings. It still shocked you that Legolas and his father live in such an expensive place in the city.

Thoughts of Legolas’s father had you reaching into your purse for your phone. You would need help taking Legolas up to the appartment. It didn’t take long, and you were promised someone would be there to help you. You squinted into the gloom and pointed out the correct building to the driver. Sure enough, Feren, Thranduil’s assistant, was out by the main entrance, wallet in hand, to pay the driver. Your apologies were endless and earnest, and Feren brushed them off with a friendly wave of the hand. He and Thranduil had been up most of the night anyway, going over an important contract, finishing up things just before your call came. The three of you had to walk in fits and starts, as Legolas was taller and swayed constantly. It was a trial, taking him through the ground floor, ignoring the stares of the stunned concierges. Then the lift, where Legolas nearly tilted onto the door. Then the top floor, where again, Legolas kept swaying and dragging the two of you with him.

"Will there be a repeat of this after he comes back from his trip?" muttered a highly amused Feren.

"I don’t know," you replied. "Next time it will be Aragorn’s turn to be the designated responsible adult, so you’ll have to ask him."

Feren nearly choked on his laughter. "You lot all take turns?"

"Oh yes," you mumbled, relieved when a familiar pair of doors drew closer. "We drew straws the moment we all became friends in University. Gimli has been grumbling about this arrangement ever since."

Feren snorted and gave you the apartment key. And nearly toppled into the corridor the moment you opened the door. "Easy there, big fella," You managed to brace yourself against the doorpost, to stop all three of you from falling flat on your faces. "Not all that far now; go to bed and sleep."

"I don’t need sleep," Legolas mumbled in his sleep. "I need Tauriel. Where is she? Where is my Tauriel?"

"Sleeping in her own bed," you said and smiled, thinking of the ring you helped Legolas pick out. "And probably thinking of all the things the two of you could do on your trip. Now come on," you let Feren lead the way to Legolas’s bedroom. "Off to bed with you."

"Mmm-hmm," Legolas breathed and allowed himself to be put to bed. His snores started again the moment his head hit the pillow, leaving you and Feren with enough time to dry off his hair and remove his socks and shoes.

"I’ll be heading out then," Feren said, satisfied that his boss’s son was settled in. "Mr. Oropherion said he’d like a word with you after you’ve settled in the guest bedroom."

"Of course," you managed, after having remembered Legolas’s invitation for you to stay over, and rest. "I’ll go see what the old man wants."

With that, Feren said his goodbyes and left. And you, not knowing what else to do with yourself, made your way to the guest bedroom. Everything was just like you remembered it: the comfortable bed and softer silk sheets, the quaint furniture, and the delicate wallpaper, all covered in roses. You noticed none of it while you put your things away and left your duffel bag in a corner. A bath had to come first to get the smell of that party off of you. And how wonderful it was to feel steam and hot water, the soap that felt so good as it glided over your skin. You showered for as long as reasonably possible, and then, one glorious hot shower later, you threw on a nightgown and flannel robe, and padded into the hall.

Thranduil wasn’t there, and he wasn’t in the kitchen. You were certain he didn’t want to meet you in his private rooms, so that left you with only one other place. The library. You took your time, relishing the feel of the soft carpet under your feet, the beautiful paintings that graced the walls, and the photographs. There were so many of them that you probably wouldn’t have been able to count them all. A door then opened, making you jump and clutch your chest in shock.

"Mr. Oropherion," you managed. Thranduil had been standing by the door, still dressed in his office clothes. You tried hard not to stare as he cut a stunning figure in the crisp white shirt and black pants he wore. His hair, usually pulled up into a neat bun, was loose now. "I… I didn’t mean to keep you waiting or anything."

Thranduil studied you keenly, his vivid blue eyes never leaving yours. "It is all right," he said finally, showing no sign of anger or impatience. "Come in. There is coffee if you would like something hot to drink."

"Please," you said cheerfully, perking up at the thought of hot coffee.

And being in Thranduil’s company, of course, although you would never say it out loud. That was the main reason you befriended Legolas in the first place—to try and get closer to his father. Thranduil was a most achingly handsome man, possessing the same platinum blonde hair, blue eyes, and strange but pretty leaf-shaped ears as his son had. Captivating and very much the man in charge, Thranduil was also a mystery, a man who was fiercely guarded about himself. Even his own son knew only so much about him, and Thranduil barely spoke to you, although you were frequently visiting Legolas. Now? Now he invited you to his library of all things, with a need to talk to you. You swallowed and walked up to him.

"Feren said you wanted to have a word with me, Mr. Oropherion," you said after going inside and closing the door behind you. "May I ask what for?"

Thranduil said nothing, only gesturing for you to make yourself comfortable at a large, polished table. His, no doubt, the one he used for his work. You were content to curl up on a comfortable leather chair and watch as he brought over two steaming mugs of coffee. Yours he gave first, before making himself comfortable in the chair opposite your own. He studied you again, watching you while you sipped, how your hair had been slicked back and how your cheeks looked all flushed after your shower. His gaze intensified in a way that made your heart flutter, and then he focused on his drink and asked questions about the party, what you planned on doing now that you were done with university, if you had any jobs lined up, and was pleased when he heard you would be starting work in a few weeks time. He then turned the discussion to the matter of his son's plans.

"Legolas showed me the ring." He sighed and took a sip before putting his mug away. "It is quite exquisite, and perfect for Tauriel. I am told you had a hand in it?"

"I had to, when he showed me the rings he had in mind," you said, making a face when you remembered going over Legolas’s choices. "You’d think with a father like you, Legolas would have better taste."

You quickly went back to your coffee, trying to be as casual as possible. The chief purpose of your compliment was for Thranduil’s benefit, not just because you were talking about Legolas’s questionable taste in jewelry. Thranduil didn’t reply but looked at you keenly. You coughed and tried to come up with something else to say. The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. Thranduil kept looking at you, thinking of what he should say to you, of what he should say about your comments. In the end, he decided to be direct. 

"Do you think I do not know what you are doing?" He took the mug out of your hands and placed it on the table. His fingers seemed to linger over yours, but you weren’t sure if you were imagining things or not. You coughed again and tried to brush off your comments.

"Do what?"

"Trying to get my attention. Do you think I have not caught on to what you are trying to do?"

"It’s nothing, Mr. Oropherion," you said with a nervous wave of the hand. "Just a silly little nothing, that’s all."

"And the Christmas gift?" Thranduil refused to let it go. "The handmade bracelet for me? Or that bottle of fine wine? One that should have been well beyond your means? How about all the times you would look at me with such deep yearning when your attention should have rightfully been elsewhere? Were those silly little nothings as well?"

Oh, dear. The bracelet could have been explained away, but the wine? You should have known you were overdoing it with the wine, and you now realize you had not been as subtle as you thought when it came to the way you looked at him.

"Does he know?" you asked finally, hoping and praying the ground would open and swallow you whole.

Thranduil rewarded you with a brief but arresting smile. "No. Legolas does not. And since you genuinely care for my son, I have kept my silence on the matter. But that still does not answer my question. Were you trying to get my attention? And no lies, I have neither the time nor the patience for them."

You dropped your head in utter embarrassment. Thranduil tutted gently and curled a finger under your chin, lifting it so your gaze was level with his. "Were you craving my attention, y/n?"

"Yes," you replied meekly.

"I see," Thranduil said slowly, hesitantly, as he ran his thumb across your lower lip. He groaned softly when your lips slowly parted. "Was this a simple liking, something innocent, or was this something more intimate in nature?"

Your cheeks were aflame. "More… intimate… Mr. Oropherion."

Thranduil’s eyes darkened. "You want me to bed you? Have my way with your body?"

"Yes," as bashful as you were, you still answered him. You very much wanted him to spend the night with you. "Maybe more than that."

His smile simply grew, and his eyes glinted wickedly in the light. Thranduil reflected on your answer and came to a decision. The time had come for him to be truthful as well. 

"What if I told you I desired you in return?" He grinned when your eyes widened in both shock and pleasure. "That I had longed for you for nearly a year?  What would you say to that?"

You were stunned and confused. Over the course of the previous year, Thranduil treated you like he always did, with barely any interest. Of course, he would be polite to you, asking about your classes and your exams, but there was nothing beyond that. In truth, it was Legolas who did most of the talking. You weren't sure if Thranduil even listened to you. Now he has freely confessed to wanting you. 

"But you barely spoke to me," you huffed, more than a little hurt that he would keep such a thing from you. "There were times you acted like I wasn't even there."

For this, Thranduil was remorseful. "And I apologize for being so cold with you. I do have very good reasons for concealing my true feelings, and I will talk about them someday soon, but for now I must ask if you would like me to bed you now and make you mine."

Thranduil said no more. He leaned back in his chair and gave you time to think.

He had good reasons, you mused. The age difference, no doubt; Legolas's possible reactions and the memories of his first wife's tragic passing. Thranduil took years to recover, Legolas had once said, and he refused all attempts at relationships, even ones that could only last a night.

Until now.

"Why now?" A wave of insecurity caught you unawares. The Oropherions had come from another country and were old money. Thranduil could have easily set his sights on someone like him, and he could still do it, pretending that there was no one else. After all, longing could mean many things. "And why me?"

"Is it not obvious?" he asked, after seeing doubt cloud your eyes.

"No," you flushed when he took your hands into his. Such large hands he had—hands that were so warm against yours. Thranduil raised yours to his lips, kissing them repeatedly.

"Your skin smells glorious, just like I thought it would be," Thranduil observed, his lips curling into a smile. "And soft. So soft. I cannot wait to feel your hands all over my body."

His gaze cut to yours. Your eyes were fixed on his, your pupils wide and your breathing quick. Doubt still clouded your eyes, and doubt was what he wanted to soothe.

"Are you worried I might set you aside for someone else?"

"Yes," you swallowed, but somehow you clung on to your courage. "You're an Oropherion and I'm... I'm... Me"

Thranduil grabbed your hands by the wrists and tugged on them, pulling you out of your chair and onto his. Your breath hitched when you found yourself on his lap, his arms hooking around your waist. 

"I cannot ask you to simply put complete faith in me, not when you still do not truly know me," Thranduil admitted. "All I can ask is for you to give me a chance. Just one. Will you do that for me? Give me a chance?"

You looked at him, at those startling eyes of his. You found no malice, no ill-intent, just a pair of sky-blue eyes that looked at you in a way no one else had done before. One chance, he had asked. You could risk giving him one chance.

"Alright," hands moving up your waist made your breath quicken again. "One chance."

Thranduil tightened his grip, heady anticipation coursing through his veins. "And can I make you mine now?"

"Yes," you were just as excited as he was. "But where though?"

Thranduil already had a place in mind, and set you down on your feet. When he rose, you had to really look up. Legolas may have been tall, but Thranduil was even taller.

"Come," he said, holding onto your hand. Thranduil led you out of the library and into the corridor. "I know just the place."

That place turned out to be his bedroom. It was like Legolas’s but on a much grander scale, with a large four-poster bed and warm accents everywhere. There was a wooden crest of some sort hung up on one wall, an intricately carved leaf surrounded by vines.

"My family’s crest," Thranduil stood behind you. "Tis an old one; the true meaning of it has been lost to time."

His hand had been moving up your arm, making your skin prickle and warm beneath his palm.

"You can change your mind at any time," he murmured and moved even closer, his other arm slowly circling around your waist. "I will stop the moment you ask me to."

You didn’t want him to stop. Not now, not after what he was making you feel, all warm and feverish and lustful.

"What if I don’t want you to stop?" you replied, your body slowly sagging into his. Thranduil groaned triumphantly and turned you around, his arms pulling you into a tight embrace.

His kiss was far from gentle, leaving you breathless and heady. You willingly yielded, your arms twinning around his broad shoulders when he dipped to carry you, a growl slipping past his lips when your legs wrapped around his waist. Thranduil carried you to across the room, his kisses demanding and unceasing. When he set you down by the foot of the bed, you tried to undress yourself.

"No," Thranduil was quick to stop you. "Let me do it instead."

Your hands moved to your sides while skilled, patient fingers worked on the belt of your robe and drew it away. His eyes darkened at the lace and skin that lay beneath.

"Beautiful," he whispered dreamily, before tugging your robe down your arms. When it pooled around your feet your cheeks warmed immediately. Thranduil stood still for a moment, drinking in the vision that stood in front of him, before gathering you into his arms and kissing you again. You found yourself being carried into bed, its bedspread cool beneath your skin. A blissful sigh parted your lips when his tongue dipped into your mouth. You felt caged beneath him, his body heavy against yours in all manner of wonderful ways. When he pressed himself even closer, your nails nearly ripped into his shirt, leaving gouges in his back. It hurt, but Thranduil thought no pain felt even a fraction as good.

"You are going to be the death of me," he breathed and pulled away, so he could undress himself. Your blush rose immediately when the last of his clothes joined the little pile by the side of the bed and he towered before you like a magnificent sculpture come to life. You didn’t have time to even think as his lips sought yours again. He had to prop himself on one elbow, to avoid crushing you, but his kiss, oh, how sinful was his kiss, hungry and needy, and his touch, heated and possessive, as it moved all over your body. His hair felt thick to your touch, his skin petal-soft against your own. When he ground into you, more than a little hesitant, you threw caution to the wind.

"You don’t have to be gentle with me," you encouraged. When Thranduil stopped, studying you keenly, you cupped his face with your hands. You wanted him to do it, to take control and have his way with you completely. "I mean it, Mr. Oropherion, you don’t have…"

"Sir," Thranduil insisted, having brought down his own inhibitions. He wanted to hold back, to be gentle, to not fall on you like a beast, but if what you asked for was true…

"Not Mr. Oropherion," Thranduil's need to take control slowly overcame him. "Not while we are here, within the confines of this bedroom."

Your entire body flushed heatedly by his tone alone. "Yes," you gazed at him, blood roaring in yours ears. "Sir."

"Come," Thranduil settled onto his knees and held out a hand. When he pulled you onto his lap, you felt his cock—already hard—rubbing against your slick heat. Pinpricks of desire slowly grew as he kept rubbing himself against you, making you mewl and whimper into his shoulder.

"Are you sure about this, princess?" Thranduil growled, his voice deep and husky by now. "You do not want me to be gentle?"

What was it with the way he suddenly called you princess? Why did it make your pulse scramble so? "Yes," you readied yourself, eager for all the things he could possibly do to you. "Sir."  

His lips crushed yours, his arms tightening around your waist like a vice. His teeth grazed over your lips, his tongue pushing past them and flicking against yours when it slipped into the warmth of your mouth. You couldn’t help but purr helplessly, your fingers raking through his hair. Thranduil forgot all sense of gentleness and decency as need lashed at him like a whip.

"So shameless, princess," he cooed, his hand making its way around your waist and onto your thigh. "The way you would look at me. Thinking I would not notice? Pitiful."

"I’m sorry, sir," you sighed when that hand of his snuck under the hem of your nightgown and glided up. "I’m so sorry."

"You should be," he muttered, "You should be very sorry."

Slap.

You jolted when he smacked your thigh. The pain that came was sharp, but the pleasure that followed afterwards…

"More," you begged, "Please."

"Sir," he reminded, before reddening your thigh again. "You forget yourself, princess."

"Sir," you mumbled quickly, "More sir, please."

Thranduil dipped and nipped your throat and your shoulder, taking care not to bruise such exposed parts.

"So needy already," he spanked your thigh a third time, moaning when you tugged his hair. "And I have just gotten started."

He kissed you again; his kisses aggressive and hot. He tugged at the hem of your nightgown, ordering you to lift your arms. The lace and silk confection went up your arms and over your waist before being tossed to the pile of clothes by the side. Thranduil pulled away to look at you, at your bruised lips, your skin gleaming in the lamplight, your disheveled hair, and your eyes, heavy-lidded, dark.

"Look at you," Thranduil grinned wolfishly as he took you in. "Already a mess."

"I am, sir," you snuggled even closer and threw your arms around his shoulders.

Instead of kissing you Thranduil pushed you onto your back, his greedy mouth exploring as much of your body as possible. You could only grip into the sheet when his teeth left darkening patches to bloom in their wake, your back arching every time he nipped at your skin. Your mewls turned into heady moans and Thranduil couldn’t get enough it.

"I often wondered how sweet you would sound when we fucked," he moaned and turned his attention to the soft swell of your breasts, dipping his head to taste. "How sweet you would taste."

"As much as I wondered how good you’d taste," you babbled without even realizing it. Thranduil chuckled before turning his attention back to what he was doing. He licked and laved, leaving your nipples throbbing by the time he had finished.

"Needy little slut, yes?" Thranduil pinned your hands over your head and forced your thighs apart with his. "But do not worry; you will get to taste me later. Lift those beautiful hips of yours for now."

You had just hooked your legs over his hips when he entered you, his cock plunging into your cunt in one quick stroke. He was so big, and it hurt, but the sensations that came with him sinking his length into you—the feel of your walls clenching around his cock—were too good, and the pain was forgotten quickly enough. Then he started to move.

Helpless and pinned beneath him, you found yourself being pushed higher up the bed every time he pulled his hips back and pushed back in, his moans matching yours. Thranduil forced himself to hold on, to wait till you had climaxed, but it had been so long, so very long, and you felt gloriously warm, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

"Come for me, princess," he commanded, "Come for me now."

A wave of intense pleasure rose within you, threatening to drag you under. You let it drag you under, your body splintering as your orgasm ripped through you. Your senses dulled as the world around you seemed to stop spinning. So lost in your blissed-out state that you barely felt Thranduil pull out of you and spill his seed over your belly, his moan that of a deeply satisfied man.

Clarity came slowly. The sweet, restful scent of lavender oil mingled with each breath you took. You blinked your eyes and looked up. Thranduil still hovered over you, his arms trembling, and sweat gleaming on his brow. Slowly, he let go, his kisses going from raw fury to tender pecks. He massaged your wrists, helped you get cleaned up and insisted that you sleep in his bed, reassuring you that Legolas would have no issue with you being with him. Once he was sure you were settled, he quickly threw on a pair of sweatpants and went out to fetch you a glass of water. Legolas had also walked into the kitchen at the same time, and the two shared a knowing look.

"It’s happening?" Legolas asked, and made his way over to his father. "Are you and y/n together now?"

Thranduil filled out a glass of water for him and watched while his son took an aspirin for the headache that was already building in intensity. Legolas knew of his father's plan. He had seen both his friend and father pining for each other and it was he who encouraged his father to take the first step in the first place.

"Yes," Thranduil filled another glass for you and studied his son. "I will date her properly and do my best not to make a mess of things. Y/n deserves better than that."

"Good," Legolas would have grinned, had it not felt like a rat was trying to gnaw its way out of his head. "Y/n will be good for you. Besides, you’ve been a lonely, miserable bastard for too long, dad."

Thranduil blushed but smiled all the same. "One does not expect to hear such language from their own child, but thank you."

tags: @ryantryan6969 @asianbutnotjapanese @lemonivall @the-fandoms-georgie @nupppuff

[nightinggail-writes]

Back to December

I was so disatisfied with Bridgerton season 3 as a whole that I decided to just rewrite the whole thing myself. Some things I will keep, but others I won't be (looking at you entrapment comment) I don't know how many chapters this will be, but I'm assuming at the VERY least 6. Anyway, enjoy the first chapter!

notes: severely unbeta'd, 2k words, dual posted on AO3

《~~~》《~~~》《~~~》♡《~~~》《~~~》《~~~》

When Colin Bridgerton arrived back to the inn that he was staying in while in Paris, the last thing he expected was to receive a letter.

Now don’t get him wrong, he certainly received letters from his family, as few and far between as those responses are, but this letter in particular was one that he was both anticipating and shocked had been delivered. He had written to Penelope Featherington of course, but unlike with his last tour, she nary responded to one of his letters; so receiving a letter from his oldest and dearest friend filled him with a joy he could not even begin to describe.

Colin snatched the letter from the innkeepers hands—far too eager to have any sense of propriety-–quickly thanked the man, and rushed over to his room.

The letter was opened faster than the door could close from behind him. But he did not even get through the first sentence before the smile slipped from his face.

The further he got through her missive, the more distressed he became. There was no possible way that his Penelope could have been the one to write him this letter. Lady Featherington must have been the one to write this, he thought to himself, Pen would never do this. As much as he tried to delude himself into thinking that she did not write this letter, he could not deny that this was her writing. He knew in his heart that she had written this letter.

As he scanned the letter, his skin paled, and his heart dropped into his stomach. It would only happen in one’s wildest fantasies—they would have to be mad to think as much.

Are you mad? He had laughed, I would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington. Not in your wildest fantasies, Fife.

Good god, she had heard him.

She heard him.

Her silence made all the more sense now. She had heard the words he had spoken while under the influence of many a drink, the words he had spoken to men who were truly not his friends—words he only spoke to fit in. Words that held no real truth in them at all. Words that he had spoken while under the pressure to impress those around him.

He could not possibly continue his travels now that he knew how much he had hurt Penelope. How could he possibly continue traveling the coastal cities of the Mare Nostrum and the mountains and plains of Central Europe, when he had left his dearest friend, the friend closest to his heart, in pain. Pain that you caused, a voice whispered in his head, You are a fool if you think she will forgive you after what you have said. Behind her back, no less.

“If I am a fool to think she will forgive me,” He whispered to himself. “Then I am a fool on a mission.”

So Colin Bridgerton walked over to the desk in his room, pulled out a piece of parchment, and wrote.

~~~~~~

The letter came in the middle of their family dinner.

“Mr. Bridgerton, a letter has arrived for you from your brother. It’s marked as urgent.”

Benedict sighed, put down his silverware, and took the letter from his valets hand. “This better actually be important, and not a description about the mountains of Switzerland or the coast of Sicily. Or a request for more funds, if he’s requesting more funds, I’ll leave him stranded where he is, with no funds to speak of.”

“Benedict Bridgerton, you will certainly do no such thing! I doubt Colin would send a letter marked urgent, if it weren’t so.” Violet said.

“I do hope Colin is not injured, I can not think of any other reason that he would write us an urgent letter.” Hyacinth interrupted, saving her elder brother from their Mama’s scolding. “Read it aloud so that we may know that he is well.”

Benedict sighed again, wishing that Anthony would make haste and return to Aubrey Hall from his honeymoon with his Viscountess, so that he could go back to his paintings and get far away from managing the household funds and accounts about crop rotations, as well as being in charge of all of their younger siblings, save Colin and Daphne.

Upon opening Colin's letter, another rolled up piece of parchment fell out, one that had clearly been opened already and re-waxed closed, Benedict set that one aside to focus on the one he opened.

“Well, it’s an awfully short message. So it’s not one of his ramblings about the scenery of where he is.”

Eloise, who’s attention had previously been directly on the book in her hands, finally looked up and acknowledged the surrounding conversation, “Would you just get on with reading the letter? He’s probably just requesting funds. It cannot possibly be that important.”

Gregory sat up in his chair, “What if he’s died?”

“How would Colin send us a letter if he has died?” Hyacinth piped up.

“Gregory, Hyacinth, do not speak about your brother this way. He is not dead, and hopefully shall not die any time soon.” Violet exclaimed tiredly.

“Family, I believe we should let Benedict speak now.” Francesca, who had been quietly observing her rather rowdy family, spoke up. “He is looking rather exasperated.”

“Thank you, sister.” Benedict spoke, rolling his eyes, “You are now my favorite sibling. I’m tired with the rest of you lot.”

Finally, after at least 5 minutes of the Bridgerton family squabbling over each other, they finally quieted down enough to listen to what was so urgent for Colin to write about.

“Benedict,

As Anthony has gone on his honeymoon, I shall address this matter to you. Due to a grave error made last season, I will be returning home far earlier than planned. I must return home as soon as possible to rectify my mistake. I will go down on my hands and knees and beg her for forgiveness if I must—”

“What could Colin have done that was so horrible that he is coming home early? And who is the lady he must have offended so horrifically to justify ending his tour” Eloise blurted, sitting up in her seat.

“That is rather curious,” Francesca replied. “Colin does not regularly associate himself with many young ladies. At least no more than is required of him for proprieties' sake—”

“Would you all let me read, please! It is almost over!” Benedict exclaimed.

Eloise shrunk down in her seat, and Francesca reverted her eyes down to the table and ate some of her roasted pork.

“The mistake in question is referenced in the letter I received mere minutes ago that I shall attach to this one.

Do not bother replying, as I am departing for Aubrey Hall as soon as possible, preferably within the next day, and as such will arrive shortly after you receive this message.

Colin”

Hyacinths face brightened as she leaned forward, “So, Colin will be returning soon!”

“At least he isn’t dead!” Gregory stated.

Eloise barked out a laugh, “He’s not dead right now, but I imagine he will be when he goes to talk to the young lady he has earned the ire of.”

“I do wonder what young lady he angered. Although he did say it would be stated in the letter he attached.” Francesca pondered.

“Mother, you’ve been awfully quiet. May I ask whatever is on your mind before I move on to the next letter?” Benedict asked.

Violet sighed, her brows creased together in thought, “I can only imagine what Colin may have said to this young lady. I truly hope I am wrong on whom I think she is.”

Ever the gossip, Hyacinth perked up at this. “You know who she is, mama? Oh, you must tell us, please!”

“Hyacinth, I am not entirely sure, and no I will not be telling you. We will find out who this young lady is in no time at all, I assure you. Benedict, would you be a dear and read us that second letter? I must know what your brother has done this time.” Violet replied.

“Gladly,” Benedict responded. Rather unusually, the remaining five Bridgertons present did not interrupt the second-eldest son as he read the dooming letter that Colin had received; the dooming letter that has prompted him to return to England earlier than he had planned.

“Mr. Bridgerton,

It seems as though my lack of response has not thwarted your attempts at contacting me and your pleas for my own response to your letters; I only hope that my words will be what you listen to, if not my own silence.

It is in my belief that we should go our separate ways. I intend to marry this upcoming season, and do not want the inconvenience of potential suitors inquiring about our correspondence or friendship and whether or not you intend to, or have been, courting me. After all, that would only be in one's wildest fantasies, would it not? In fact, one would have to think himself positively mad to think as much, would they not? In regards to your statement of the protection of me and my family at my mama’s ball at the end of last season, I do not need—nor do I want—your protection. You are not my father, you are not my brother, and you are certainly not my husband. It would be for the best if you kept your distance from me this upcoming season so as to not cause confusion. Our former friendship was already toeing the line of impropriety, and as Eloise and I are no longer on amiable terms, there is no excuse (nor has there ever been, truly) for our behavior. As I do not wish to cause further scandal, it is for the better that we part ways.

I do hope you enjoy your travels and that you continue to find yourself and your purpose while doing so.

Regards,

Miss Penelope Featherington”

All was silent for but a few seconds until Hyacinth burst out “Penelope! He insulted Penelope, of all ladies?!”

“She seemed to have taken direct quotes that came out of his mouth as ammo to use against him. Her passive-aggressiveness is quite eloquently done.” Benedict noted.

Violet closed her eyes and sighed through her nose, pinching the bridge, “I knew it must have been Penelope. Who else would he write letters to besides her.”

“Whatever he must have said must have been cruel for her to address him as Mr. Bridgerton and not by his given name. I do not think I can recall I time when she did not refer to him as Colin.” Francesca noted.

Throughout this whole ordeal, Eloise remained silent. She was still cross with Pen for what she had written about her. In the past few months, she has come to realize that Penelope had only done it to protect her from the Queen. However, her own pride refused to let her accept that as the answer to what Penelope had done. Her pride would not let her reply to any of her letters, or even read them for that matter. Her pride, preventing her from forgiving her best friend, still her best friend as Eloise can never name her as anything else, no matter how furious she was with her.

And while Eloise does not think she can face Penelope herself. That does not mean that she wishes for her to hurt more than she must already be hurting. Eloise cannot help but wonder when Colin had said what he had said, and hoped that it wasn’t the same night that she had called Penelope an “insipid wallflower”. She could not fathom losing two friends in one night, with both saying cruel words directed to her, in her own home no less.

Despite their distance at the moment, Eloise still cared for Pen; far more than her wounded pride would let her admit. And so, Eloise Bridgerton decided that upon her brother's return, she would have a few select words for him.

[the-phantoms-kiss]

I am sorry pt. 2

John Wick x Fem!Reader

Part 1 💖Some mention of Kevin Lomax 💖 2K

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

it has been 3 years since I stepped out of this place and swore never to come back. 3 years since I left a life I’d known all my life. 3 years since I had to learn to depend on someone else. Now it has been 3 days since I left my only home. 3 days since I was forced to learn to depend solely on my own. 3 days since I lost my love.

Now I stand here, outside the Continental with a suitcase in hand, contemplating on whether I should continue; on one hand, I would be provided with a temporary roof over my head, but on the other, there is a great chance that John would find me and order a ban on me. But I guess that is a risk I'll have to take otherwise I'll have to join King out on the streets and personally, the homeless style ain't my thing.

Upon entrance, a group of eyes falls on me, most in shock and some in displease. "Welcome back, Ms. Wilde, am I to assume that Mr. Wick will be joining us as well?" Charon spoke from behind the desk. "No, you are not. I'd like to meet with the manager please." "Of course, in the meantime, we will arrange your room, is your usual alright?" I simply nod, hand my suitcase to a nearby concierge, and head towards the lounge.

"It's nice to see you again Wilde, it has been quite a while since we have chatted." Winston pours me a drink as I sit on the comfy velvet of the couch. "Yes, far too long. I miss our old conversations. How have you been old man?" He chuckles a bit, "I've been alright. What about you? I doubt this is simply a visit." He could read me as if I were an open book, and to him I probably was. "I'd like to ask you for a favor Winston." I take a sip and he lets out a deep sigh. "Look, you know how much you matter to this hotel, but whatever is going on between you and John, I simply cannot partake." "I am not asking you to kill anyone, I'm simply asking you to let me stay here for a while and get a job. I'll take any sort of job, it doesn't have to be an assignment, I'm content with just being the maid." he looks relieved at my simple request. "Alright. From now on you will be the lead singer for our jazz performances, that is until you train to become an assassin again, I can't risk you dying on the first night back. I assume you told Charon to prepare your usual room?" I nod, "I'll send up a contract that states you will be an official employee for a month. if you have any questions or concerns call me. " "Thank you, Winston, truly, thank you." I take my leave.

Finally, a room that doesn't smell like cheap cologne and sweat. This room was basically a second home, and for a long time, it was my home. The shower was even better than expected, the mattress is softer than I remember it, and the view, god, how I've longed for this view of the city. I still remember the first time I stepped into this room, I'd never seen anything as luxurious as this room, the bathroom alone was bigger than my bedroom at my old apartment, and this living room covered both my apartment and my neighbors. I simply sat, on the same bed I am sitting on now. I recall thinking "If this is what being an assassin gets you, I am more than willing to avert my eyes for a few seconds just to get to sleep here." Knock Knock. This must be it, John must've found me, what will I say to him? Should I slap him in the face? No! What if he's come to apologize? What if he came to drop off the rest of my belongings? Am I to run into his arms like a helpless maid? No! What if I am too cold and he thinks I'm not worth the chase? Knock Knock. "I'm coming!"

I dramatically open the door, and give the biggest puppy eyes I could possibly muster while looking down at the floor for an ever greater effect. "Ms. Wilde, I am here to drop off the contract. Is everything alright you look quite ill." "Oh, hello, no, I mean yes... I am fine... are there any messages for me?" Charon looks confused now, and I feel incredibly embarrassed, "Ah yes," So he did know I was here! "The manager asked me to hand you this card, he'd like for you to buy appropriate clothing tomorrow." Wow, he truly could read me like a book! "Perfect! Thank you!" He nodded and walked away to resume his other tasks. He truly didn't care about me... that's alright, if I were him I wouldn't either.

"It's time for breakfast! Come on, it's time to get up sleepy head!" His voice was soft and gentle as it always was, and there was a soft scent of pancakes that I could barely make out through my sleepy state. "Just five more minutes love." As I haphazardly roll on my sides, he chuckles lightly, except, it's not his usual pitch, it's higher, shorter. "Ms. Wilde, it is 11am, you may want to consider waking up sometime soon." Ms. Wilde? John never calls me by my last name, let alone at 11am, 11am?!

I jolt up from the bed and fully awaken to see a tray with coffee and pancakes on the small round dining table, and on my nightstand, the clock shows 5 minutes past 11. I'm unsure who left this food here, but truly they were sent from the gods. The aroma pulled me closer to the food, forcing me to start the day.

Most of the day was spent in various shopping centers trying to make up for all the clothes I'd left back at our house. His house. This would be the last shop of the evening before heading back to the hotel. Now I must try on this dress before being able to check out. The dress was stunning, tight fitting, yet modest, it was enough to catch a stranger's attention. "How much?" I quickly turn towards the voice, it was a young man, quite handsome, "I'm sorry?" "The dress, you look splendid in it, I'll pay for it." "Oh no, It's far too expensive I couldn't let you do that, but thank you." Boy when was the last time I received such a compliment, I hate to admit that it made me blush, "It wasn't a request. You can pay me back by taking me to dinner." He's got a confident smirk, "I am flattered, but, I must decline. I just got out of a relationship and am not ready." He nods and hands me a card, "I understand, just give me a call if you ever want to talk." He stands up and signals for a worker to come, "Excuse me miss, please baggage that dress and anything else she desires." He hands her his credit card and she walks away, "You really don't have to!" I move towards him, I can't just let him splurge on me so easily! "Non-sense, I can and so I must. I must go back to my job now, have a nice day." and before I could retaliate he takes back his Credit Card, from the employee who had just returned, and walks out the doors. I can't even chase after him as in this dress. The employee is now helping me out of the dress with the biggest smile I've ever seen, "He's awfully nice for a stranger isn't he?" She's got a southern accent, "Nice isn't the right word, trusting is better suited." She just chuckles at my response.

"I am assuming your shopping spree went well?" Winston asks as he sees me walking into the hotel. A concierge is behind me carrying all sorts of bags and boxes. "Yes, you seem to be correct. I met the strangest man not too long ago, he bought me a dress without even looking at the tag. Isn't it charming, the great lengths men will go to just to get a date? Of course, I rejected him several times but he kept insisting, even without the promise of dinner. I remember when John was like that..." He smiled, walking with me towards the elevator. "Well, for both our sakes I hope the dress was worth it because we have an important guest tonight." "We have important guests every night" "He's a businessman." "Ah, that kind of important, well, I must get ready then. Thank you for the money." He smiles and walks away, his hands behind his back.

After what felt like an eternity I am finally ready, my makeup is done, my hair is up in a vampy hairdo, the romantic olive dress on from earlier, and my simple Mary Jane. Now it's simply time to warm up a bit, review my songs, and go down and perform. Though I've done harder things it's nerve-racking performing once to an audience again, I'm so used to it only being John. I wonder if he'll come, I know he probably won't, and even if he does he's sure to ignore me, I just hope that maybe he'll come and say he's sorry. But that is silly and dumb and would never happen so I should get going now before I'm late.

It's now about to strike 11, and I've just finished my last song, thankfully things went on without a hitch and I can finally go back to my room and sleep. "Ah, Ms. Wilde, would you do us the honor of joining us?" Winston spoke from a booth, the booth was seemingly empty aside from him, he must be imagining things. "Of course! Where's the important guest?" I take a seat across from Winston, "He went to the restroom he'll be right back." He offers me a glass and pours whisky into it. We talk for a few minutes as we wait for his associate to come back. "Sorry for the wait, now where were we?" The man from the shop smiles at Winston and sits beside me, a slightly shocked reaction. "How lovely of you to join us! You know, when I asked you out to dinner earlier I meant us two alone, but, I'll take what I can get." He grins taking a sip from his glass, "Ha ha, very funny. I'm the singer for the Jazz band." "Oh evidently so, I don't doubt it for a minute. You sound as wonderful as you look, and I didn't think anything could come so close." It's obvious he's just being playful but the look that Winston gives me says otherwise. We introduced ourselves to each other formally and resumed talking about business. He was as every bit kind as he seemed, quite funny too. "Well Mister Lomax, it was lovely meeting you, and once again, I owe you one for this dress." "It was my pleasure, Miss Wilde. Until we see each other again." he gave a slight bow and promptly walked towards the exit. Looking back to wave goodbye he bumped into someone and quickly apologized. Had it been someone else they would have simply kept walking, but of course, that is not the way life goes and so it had to be the one and only John Wick with whom he'd bumped into.

Well... surely this won't bite me in the ass. Yeah right, maybe in another universe, in this one John is looking at me more so irritated than when I last saw him, and I didn't think that'd be possible. Tonight would be a long night.