#there is one thing missing though (it's a kiss)

[artficlly]

his girls [one-shot]

marvel au bucky x reader alpine barely tolerates anyone but bucky, so when she curls up in your lap without a second thought, the team is left reeling—especially when it leads to the not-so-subtle revelation that you and bucky have been sneaking around for months.

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, alpine is a troublemaker, secret dating, swearing, kissing, alcohol, tony knows all, natasha too, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: hello! once again a fic no one asked for lol. i'm supposed to be on hiatus buuut i took some time this afternoon to write this because i'm procrastinating a uni assignment. i'm sure this concept has been done before, but i was thinking about that scene in rivals with the dog (iykyk) and yeah! step away from the usual angst and heartbreak i normally provide you all with. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

You were careful.

Or at least, you thought you were careful.

For months, you and Bucky had kept your relationship under wraps. It wasn’t that you wanted to keep secrets from the team, but there was something thrilling about stolen moments and hushed conversations. About Bucky’s hand on the small of your back as he guided you through a crowded room, or the way he’d brush a kiss against your temple before disappearing down the hall.

You figured no one had noticed.

Until today.

It all started with one of many white hairs stuck to your t-shirt.

Natasha plucked it off you mid-conversation one morning in the kitchen while you were praying—desperately—to whatever all-seeing god might finally make the coffee machine work faster. Between the groaning, spluttering sounds and the blinking lights, it felt like the damn thing was possessed. With flawlessly manicured nails, Natasha held the hair up to the morning light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the compound.

“Is this Alpine’s fur?” she mused aloud, twirling the long, pale strand between her fingers.

“Probably.” you replied absently, more concerned with the coffee machine’s latest refusal to cooperate. You jabbed the buttons harder, ignoring the way Natasha’s eyes flickered with something dangerously close to amusement. 

“For all of Tony’s money, you’d think we’d have a coffee machine that actually works,” you grumbled.

“Turn around?” Natasha asked. There was a particular lilt to her voice, that barely concealed intrigue she tried—and failed—to mask whenever she was onto something. It set you on edge instantly, the tone that meant she was clicking a mystery into place, giddy with excitement beneath a thin veil of indifference. You didn’t trust it for a second.

“No, just—” You smacked the machine in frustration. It whined pathetically before the lights blinked off entirely. You let out a long, exasperated groan. “Why won’t this stupid fucking thing ever work—”

“Jesus, you’re covered in it—”

You froze mid-motion as Natasha yanked at your shirt, effectively grooming you like a monkey. Her sharp lips had turned up into a wicked smirk, the type of smirk that made dread pool in your gut. 

“Everything is covered in her fur,” you said quickly, still trying for casual. You reached for the plug, praying Natasha would drop it. “She sheds everywhere, especially on the couch.”

“Mm.” Natasha tilted her head, her smirk deepening. “And yet, I thought Tony hired cleaners for that? Especially with Kate always bringing Lucky around?”

You yanked the plug from the socket a little too forcefully. “Honestly, Nat, I don’t know. I just want this damn machine to work.”

Right on cue, a familiar voice rumbled behind you.

“Machine giving you trouble again?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest before resuming its normal rhythm—though maybe a little faster. You turned just as Bucky strolled in, looking frustratingly good despite the early hour. His hair was a little dishevelled, sleep still clinging to him in a way that made him look too soft for someone who could snap a man’s spine in half.

“There’s a trick to it, remember?” He stepped in close beside you, skin brushing yours as he reached for the machine. The scent of his aftershave lingered, warm and familiar. You tried—and failed—not to watch the way the muscles in his forearm tensed, veins shifting beneath his skin as he pressed a series of buttons.

“Barnes, you’ve got cat hair all over you,” Natasha noted, not even bothering to be subtle. You didn’t dare look at her. Instead, you busied yourself wringing your hands, pretending you weren’t hyper-aware of Bucky standing so damn close.

“Huh?” Bucky barely spared a glance at his shirt, where Alpine’s fur was unmistakably clinging to the fabric. “Oh. Yeah, guess I do. She always wants attention in the morning.”

Then, with one final smack, the machine roared to life. The rich aroma of coffee filled the air as liquid finally poured into your mug. You sighed in sheer relief.

“There you go,” Bucky said, looking down at you with a small smile, a few strands of dark hair falling across his forehead.

Your stomach did a stupid little flip. You smiled back, warmth creeping into your face. “Thanks.”

The machine beeped again, snapping you back to reality. You quickly grabbed the mug with both hands, muttered another thanks, and let Natasha tug you away.

“What was that?” She hissed, voice low as she turned to you with narrowed eyes.

“Huh?” You weren’t entirely listening to her words. You found yourself glancing over your shoulder, a ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. You could still see Bucky standing in the kitchen, both hands braced on the counter as he waited for his own coffee. His back was turned, but even through the thin material of his fur-covered t-shirt, you could see the way his muscles shifted beneath it—

Natasha didn’t even humour your innocence. She crossed her arms. “You and Barnes?” 

“What about him?” You mumbled, pulling your gaze away as the elevator dinged, doors sliding open.

Her lips twitched, amusement clear. “Are you two—?”

You made a face at her. “What are you on about?” 

Natasha didn’t look convinced, but she let it go.

For now.

As the elevator hummed and Bucky was cut from your view as the doors shut, you took a sip of coffee, the liquid a few degrees between too hot and burning. It scalded your tongue, and with the phantom smell of Bucky’s aftershave no longer haunting you, you felt your mind snap back into action.

Right. Focus.

“We’re going to be late for the meeting,” you declared, shaking your head. “And that damn machine is the reason. You know what? Let’s take a detour to Stark’s lab and demand a better one.”

Natasha chuckled, pressing the button for a different floor.

“I like the way you think.”

—

You knew Alpine would be your downfall.

The little white menace was notoriously selective. If you weren’t Bucky, she wanted nothing to do with you. Everyone at the compound had suffered her wrath at least once—Sam even had the scars to prove it. Alpine liked to play dangerous games that usually ended in blood or a yowl of pain. You swore the Avengers bled more dealing with the feline than fighting aliens, wizards, or whatever else tried to obliterate Earth every other week. She was a cunning little creature, lurking around corners, hiding under tables, prowling along bookshelves. And just when you least expected it—bam. Teeth and claws bared, she would pounce, latching on like a tiny, vengeful spectre. This was her idea of fun. The Avengers had learned to tread carefully, tip-toeing around the compound whenever they knew she wasn’t safely curled up in Bucky’s room, where she ruled with an iron paw.

So, when you sat down on the couch one evening, and Alpine immediately hopped onto your lap, you knew you were fucked.

She didn’t hesitate, didn’t so much as sniff at you in consideration before curling right up, purring loud enough to be heard over the football game droning on in the background—which you were only half paying attention to. 

You stiffened, caught between awe at the rare privilege and sheer dread at the witnesses currently gaping at you.

Bucky, for his part, had been sitting at the other end of the couch, flirting with danger in his usual way—stolen glances, conveniently placed touches as he shifted in place. Alpine, just as obsessed with him as you were (Bucky had taken to calling you both ‘his girls’ in private, which always managed to make you swoon.), had immediately perched in his lap when he sat down. Only when he carefully pried her off to grab another round of beers did the little white she-beast decide you were a worthy substitute, strutting over with lazy, languid confidence before settling down, blissfully unaware of what she had just unleashed.

The room fell into stunned silence. Several pairs of eyes locked onto you, breath collectively held. They were waiting for the yowl, for the inevitable attack, for you to tense up and leap to your feet in pain. But to your horror, the little sadist simply settled in. Cosy, unbothered, as if this had been the plan all along.

“Okay, what the hell is this?” Sam finally demanded, pointing an accusing finger.

You blinked down at Alpine, then up at Sam, stroking the soft fur like nothing was amiss. “Uh… a cat?” 

You were foolish and desperate enough to pretend this was completely normal, to gaslight the others into believing Alpine was a perfectly gentle and affectionate cat. A sweet, loving companion. Not a tiny, vengeful menace who had terrorised them all—and definitely not a creature who had only warmed up to you in recent months because you spent more time in Bucky’s bed than your own.

“The same cat that tried to claw out my eyeball for getting too close? And now she’s just—” He gestured wildly at Alpine, who flicked her tail with the smugness of a queen on her throne. “—cuddling with you like you’re her best buddy?”

“She likes me, I guess.” You blinked innocently, turning back to the TV, hoping he would drop it, but Sam, ever the dramatic, was not satisfied.

“Are you kidding me? That cat has tried to kill me.”

Natasha snorted into her drink. 

Alpine smugly licked her paw before resting her head upon your thigh and blinking her wide blue eyes at Sam, who shook his head with an exaggerated shudder.  “This is bullshit, and you know it—”

“Maybe she just doesn’t like you, Sam.” You huffed, scratching Alpine behind her ears. “She’s always been fine with me.”

“That is not true!” 

“She took a chunk out of my arm once,” Natasha added, ever the instigator.

“Remember when I gave her a treat and she bit me?” Steve piped up.

Bucky returned at that moment, frowning as he saw the conversation unfolding before him. You turned to him with wide, desperate eyes, silently pleading for help. Alpine, the little traitor, merely pressed her pink nose to your hand, rubbing her face against you with a contented sigh.

“She only likes people she’s comfortable with,” Bucky offered, setting the beers down with a clink, but his pitiful attempt to be helpful only added fuel to the fire.

The room exploded into a series of overlapping voices.

“I didn’t realise you spent so much time with Alpine?” Natasha’s sharp gaze flicked between you and Bucky, her smirk primed to taunt you both. 

“Buck, doesn’t she spend all her time in your room—?” Steve leaned forward, forearms braced against his thighs, invested now.

Sam jolted upright like he’d just solved a murder case. “Now, hold on a second—”

“You have been covered in cat fur a lot lately,” Natasha mused. “And you two have been suspiciously close—”

As you glanced over at Bucky, you couldn’t tell if his repeated blunders were intentional or borne out of genuine panic. He cleared his throat, his brows raising as he casually popped off the cap of one of the beers with his vibranium thumb in faux nonchalance.

“Coincidence.” He muttered with a shrug, tipping back a mouthful of the brew. 

Alpine, completely oblivious (or entirely aware of the chaos she’d caused), didn’t budge as Bucky sat back down beside you, levelling you with a look that screamed we are so screwed.

“You two aren’t even going to try to lie?” Natasha pressed.

“Lie about what?” You feigned innocence, but the act was flimsy at best. The jig was well and truly up.

Bucky, clearly done with this little charade, let out a long-suffering sigh that might’ve sounded exasperated if not for the telltale smirk tugging at his lips. Without another word, he slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you effortlessly against his chest, Alpine still coiled contentedly in your lap. The smug little she-beast didn’t even stir. She just purred loudly—too loudly, like she was taking credit for the entire thing.

“Wait a second!” Sam pointed a dramatic finger between the two of you. “How long has this been happening?”

“How long has what been happening?” Tony strolled into the room, a glass of amber liquid that looked suspiciously like whiskey in hand.

“Her,” Steve announced, gesturing between the both of you. “And Barnes.”

Tony didn’t even blink. “Oh, I already knew that. You didn’t know that?”

Bucky turned so fast you were surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash.  “You what?”

“Oh, come on,” Tony drawled, making himself comfortable on the armrest of the couch like this was all just another day at the office. “You really thought I wouldn’t notice her sneaking out of your room at ungodly hours for the past six months? F.R.I.D.A.Y. kept flagging intruders, and, shocker—it was just you two, utterly failing at stealth.”

Sam threw up his hands. “Did you say six months?!”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but instead of answering, he just turned to you and, without hesitation, kissed you.

It was sudden but warm, his lips soft against yours like he’d been waiting for an excuse. The room erupted into even more noise, Sam shouting something unintelligible, Natasha making a sound of smug satisfaction, and Steve groaning like he should’ve known, but it all faded into the background.

You laughed against Bucky’s lips, breathless but entirely unbothered. “This is definitely her fault.”

Alpine, still purring in your lap like the devious little mastermind she was, flicked her tail.

Bucky just hummed, brushing his nose against yours. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Not complaining, though.”

And, truthfully, neither were you.

[hsnlv]

🧸ྀི - jaeyun and his (cute) jealousy issues?

pairing: husband!jake x wife!reader • pls mind the fact that this is an actual (almost) teeth-rotting fluff!

a/n: im actually tooo lazy to make a proper layout for this one but enjoy it regardless! reblogs and comments are highly appreciated 🎀here’s my masterlist!🎀

—

you honestly have no idea what is going on with your husband lately.

jake’s usually the most easygoing, playful person you know — the kind of guy who laughs at his own jokes and kisses you on the forehead whenever he walks past. but lately? he’s been a walking storm cloud, and you’re starting to feel like you’re married to a grumpy old man instead of the golden retriever boy you fell in love with.

it started small — sighs when you took a little longer getting the baby to sleep, huffs when you missed dinner because the baby needed you. then it got worse. now, he snaps over everything.

tonight is no different.

“it’s just laundry, jake,” you sigh, leaning against the armrest of the couch as he paces like he’s on a mission to wear a hole in the carpet.

“just laundry?” he scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “the whole load smells like mildew now! that’s like… five shirts! gone!”

“you have fifty more in the closet,” you deadpan.

he opens his mouth to argue, then closes it with a glare.

you watch him, eyes narrowing. this isn’t about laundry. you’re sure of it. he’s been like this for weeks — tense, restless, snappy over the tiniest things. and every time you ask, he just mumbles “i’m fine” and stomps off like a teenager grounded from his xbox.

you’re tired of it.

“jake,” you say carefully, sitting up straighter. “can you please tell me what’s going on with you? you’ve been weird for days.”

“i’m not weird.”

“you’re literally brooding.”

“i’m not brooding.”

“you’re pacing dramatically and sighing like you’re in a sad music video.”

“i’m not—” he stops mid-step, glaring at you again. “i’m not brooding.”

you stare him down, crossing your arms.

“jaeyun.”

his jaw clenches.

“it’s nothing,” he mutters, turning away.

“jake,” you try again, voice softer now. “i’m your wife. talk to me.”

he doesn’t respond.

you sigh, running a hand through your hair. okay. plan b it is.

“if you don’t tell me what’s wrong,” you say slowly, “i’m going to assume it’s something ridiculous.”

he snorts. “yeah, sure.”

“like… you’re mad because i finished the last of the cereal.”

“what? no.”

“or because i didn’t let you buy that life-sized iron man figure last week.”

“hey, that would’ve been cool.”

“or,” you pause dramatically, “you’re jealous of the baby.”

silence.

jake freezes.

your eyes widen.

oh. my. god.

“…you’re jealous of the baby?” you whisper, half in shock, half on the verge of laughing.

“no,” he says quickly — too quickly.

you gasp. “you are!”

“i’m not jealous of our kid!” he protests, turning red.

you stand up slowly, like you’re piecing together the biggest mystery of the century.

“oh my god. that’s why you’re acting like this? because i pamper her too much?”

he groans, dragging his hands down his face.

“it’s not — i didn’t mean —” he stumbles over his words, looking mortified.

you can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of you.

“jake,” you giggle, stepping closer to him. “are you seriously mad because i give the baby more attention than you?”

he groans louder, tipping his head back like he’s praying for the earth to swallow him whole.

“you do, though!” he finally bursts out, voice high-pitched and frustrated. “you kiss her all the time! you hold her, cuddle her, play with her — and i’m just… here! i get, like, one kiss a day now, and even that’s a forehead kiss while you’re half asleep!”

he’s full-on pouting now, looking like a kicked puppy.

you bite your lip, trying so hard not to laugh again.

“jaeyun,” you whisper, stepping closer to cup his cheeks. his face is warm under your hands. “are you seriously telling me you’re jealous of our three-month-old daughter?”

“i’m not jealous,” he grumbles, but his voice cracks. “i just… miss you. i miss when you looked at me the way you look at her. i miss cuddling without a baby monitor going off. i miss being the one you kiss all the time.”

your heart squeezes so hard it almost hurts.

you stare at him, his brows furrowed, lips downturned in the saddest little frown — and you realize he’s not even mad. he’s just hurt.

“oh, jaeyun,” you whisper, your voice softening. you pull him into a hug, feeling him melt into you instantly.

“i love you,” you murmur into his shoulder, holding him tight. “so much. you’re not in second place. you’re my first everything — first love, first choice, first home. you’re my person. and yeah, i’m obsessed with our baby, but that doesn’t mean i stopped being obsessed with you.”

he doesn’t say anything for a second — just squeezes you tighter, his face buried in your neck.

“i’m still mad about the laundry,” he mumbles.

you snort.

“you’ll live.”

he laughs, finally, and the sound is so warm and familiar that it makes your heart swell.

and from that moment on, jake doesn’t even try to hide how clingy he is.

he follows you around the house like a lost puppy, wrapping his arms around your waist whenever you’re cooking or cleaning. if you’re sitting down, he’s immediately in your lap — or pulling you into his. he whines when you get up, pouts when you leave the room, and steals every possible kiss he can.

“jaeyun, i have to go check on the baby,” you giggle as he tugs you back onto the couch for the third time that afternoon.

“she’s sleeping,” he huffs, nuzzling into your neck. “she gets you all day. i get you now.”

“you’re ridiculous.”

“yeah, but you love me.”

“unfortunately.”

he gasps dramatically. “take that back!”

“make me.”

he tackles you onto the couch, smothering you with kisses until you’re both breathless with laughter.

and honestly? you wouldn’t have it any other way.

©️ all rights reserved | hsnlv | 2025

[holyblonded]

family bonding day | stargirl

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader, olga rios x teen!reader

summary: it’s family day in the putellas-rios household, possibly the most important one

warnings: talk of childhood trauma, violence

notes: this was in fact written in one day after yall inspired me. thank you to the anon that requested the older sister estrella hcs 🙏🏾🙏🏾

Alexia sighed as the warm morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the bed. She was perfectly comfortable, her head resting against the soft pillow, a warm weight pressed against her chest. She tilted her head slightly, pressing a soft kiss onto Olga’s hair, listening to the gentle chirping of birds outside.

Off days were always so peaceful… until 8:47 a.m.

Alexia cracked open one eye and turned her head to the alarm clock on the nightstand. 8:46:59 a.m.

She groaned, shutting her eyes again. “Why me, God?”

Like clockwork, the bedroom door flew open with a dramatic slam, revealing you in all your chaotic glory dressed in your oversized elephant onesie, your special blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a cape.

Olga, who hadn’t even stirred, simply lifted one arm in invitation, blindly patting the empty space between her and Alexia. Without hesitation, you sprinted toward the bed and launched yourself onto it with an ungraceful thump, landing squarely between them.

Alexia grunted at the impact, her peaceful morning shattered, while you smugly snuggled into Olga’s side, sticking your tongue out at Alexia like a brat.

“It’s like clockwork with you,” Alexia grumbled, rubbing her face as if she could physically wipe away her exhaustion.

“You love me,” you replied with a cheeky grin.

Olga hummed sleepily, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you closer. “Mmm… you’re warm,” she muttered, voice still thick with sleep.

Alexia sighed, resigning herself to the fact that there was no going back to sleep now. Instead, she ran a hand through your tangled hair before groaning, “We should get up and make breakfast.”

“Nooo,” you whined, nuzzling further into Olga, who chuckled but didn’t protest.

Alexia rolled her eyes. “Fine, but if I start cooking without you, I’m making that horrible dry toast you hate.”

Your eyes snapped open immediately, and you bolted upright. “I’m up.”

Olga laughed, stretching lazily before rolling out of bed. “Come on, let’s go feed the gremlin.”

In the kitchen, the three of you split up the breakfast duties. Alexia was on eggs and toast, Olga was flipping pancakes, and you, somehow, somehow, had been entrusted with smoothie duty. A terrible, terrible mistake.

It started well enough. You threw in some bananas, strawberries, and yogurt, tossing in a handful of spinach to make it healthy (because Olga was watching you like a hawk). But the moment Alexia turned her back, things took a turn for the worse.

“Why is there cocoa powder in the smoothie?” Alexia asked, arms crossed, staring at the countertop.

“It’s an experiment,” you said nonchalantly.

“Why is there peanut butter?”

“…Enhancing the flavor profile?”

Olga peeked over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow, a quick whiff of it made her subtly gag. “Why does it look like swamp water?”

You scoffed. “Have some faith.”

Just as you reached for the blender lid, Alexia caught sight of what you were doing.

“Wait—”

WHIRRRRRR!

You had forgotten to secure the lid properly. The force of the blender sent smoothie splattering everywhere, onto the counter, onto the cabinets, onto you.

Olga let out a loud snort of laughter, flipping a pancake without missing a beat.

Alexia groaned, rubbing her temples. “This is why we don’t let you use kitchen appliances.”

You stood there, covered in smoothie, blinking as a piece of spinach slowly slid down your cheek.

“Well,” you said, licking a bit of smoothie from the corner of your mouth. “Tastes good, though.”

Alexia sighed, grabbing a dish towel to start cleaning. Olga, meanwhile, was wheezing with laughter as she handed you a paper towel. “You’re never living this down.”

“I regret nothing.”

Alexia rolled her eyes. “You’re cleaning the kitchen.”

“Fine, but I’m still drinking my smoothie.”

And so, despite the mess, breakfast continued, laughter filling the kitchen, teasing remarks exchanged between bites of food, and Alexia wondering, not for the first time, how she ended up with the two most chaotic people in her life.

The supermarket was busy, but that didn’t stop you from treating it like your personal playground. Feet firmly planted on the bottom rack of the shopping cart, you held onto the handlebar and pushed off with a dramatic lean forward, sending yourself rolling down the aisle with a whoosh.

Olga trailed somewhere behind, casually browsing the shelves like she had all the time in the world, while Alexia was on a mission, laser-focused, determined, and already regretting not leaving both of you and Olga in the car.

“Can you please act like a normal person?” Alexia huffed, reaching out to grab the back of the cart just as you went to launch yourself again.

You grinned at her, standing up properly but not letting go of the cart. “Define normal.”

“Not this.” She gestured vaguely at your entire being, then exhaled sharply when you suddenly veered the cart toward a display of stacked cans.

“Relax, Mami, I got this,” you assured her.

Alexia didn’t look convinced. “No, you don’t.”

Meanwhile, Olga had completely disappeared, having mysteriously slipped off while neither of you were paying attention.

Alexia noticed first. “Where did Olga go?”

You shrugged. “Dunno. One second she was here, and then poof.”

Alexia pressed her fingers to her temples, inhaling deeply like she was summoning patience. “Great.”

You were greatly enjoying being a menace. Every time Alexia turned her back, you tossed something unnecessary into the cart, chocolate bars, a massive bag of marshmallows, a bottle of the most expensive olive oil just to see if she’d notice. She did.

“Put it back,” she ordered, pulling the olive oil out without even looking.

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” you pouted, dramatically tossing it onto the nearest shelf (which was not where it belonged).

Alexia gave you a look but said nothing. Instead, she continued checking off items on her mental list, marching forward with determination. You trailed beside her, still pushing the cart, still goofing off.

That was when you felt it— tiny arms suddenly wrapping around your legs, squeezing tight. You blinked and looked down.

A little girl, no older than five or six, clung to you like a koala, staring up at you with wide, starstruck eyes. “Oh my gosh, it’s really you!” she squeaked, practically vibrating with excitement.

Your heart melted instantly. Squatting down to her level, you smiled warmly. “Hey there, pequeña, what’s your name?”

“Luna!” she chirped, eyes shining. “I watch all your games! You’re my favorite! You’re so cool, and you do all those tricks, and I told my mamá I wanna play just like you!”

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your chest. “No way, you’re making me blush.”

Luna giggled, bouncing on her heels. “You’re even cooler in person! I’m supposed to see you play next week!”

Alexia, who had turned around at the commotion, stopped in her tracks. Olga, who had just reappeared, watched the interaction with soft eyes.

Luna’s mom appeared moments later, slightly out of breath. “Luna! You can’t just run off like that!”

“Mamá, look! It’s her!” Luna pointed at you with pure glee.

Her mom’s expression shifted from exasperation to gratitude as she looked at you. “I’m so sorry, she just ran the moment she saw you.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “No worries at all, she’s amazing.”

Luna tugged at your wrist, eyes hopeful. “Can we take a picture together?”

“Of course!”

Her mom pulled out her phone while you posed with Luna, making sure she had the biggest grin. Before she could leave, you slipped off one of your bracelets, a simple woven one you always wore, and gently tied it around her tiny wrist.

Her eyes went huge. “For me?”

“For you,” you confirmed. “Now you have to score lots of goals with it, okay?”

“I will!”

After another round of thank-yous, Luna skipped back to her mom, still clutching her wrist like it was the most precious thing in the world.

As they walked away, you stood back up, feeling a warmth in your chest.

Alexia and Olga were already looking at each other, silently melting at the interaction.

“You’re such a softie,” Olga teased, nudging you as she passed.

You scoffed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Alexia smirked. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue.

With everything finally in the cart (and only some extra treats smuggled in under Alexia’s radar), the three of you made your way to checkout, ready for your picnic— your antics forgotten, at least for now.

Well, until Alexia saw the massive bag of marshmallows at the bottom of the cart.

“Are you serious?”

“What? You can’t have a picnic without marshmallows!”

Alexia sighed while Olga laughed at her partner’s reaction. You just grinned, knowing full well that, despite her protests, Alexia wouldn’t make you put them back.

Before every picnic, every day off, every excuse you could find, you made sure to come back here.

Your old neighborhood hadn’t changed much: same narrow streets, same corner stores with faded signs, same familiar faces lingering outside their apartments. But right in the heart of it, where an abandoned lot used to be, now stood the youth center you built with your first paycheck.

One of the many reasons Alexia started monitoring your purchases like a hawk.

“You spent your first paycheck on this?” she had asked back then, looking at the blueprints in disbelief.

And you had simply nodded, not a hint of hesitation. “They deserve it.”

Because you remembered what it was like, what it was like to grow up here, to play street ball because there was nowhere else to go, to see the things kids shouldn’t see. Robberies. Fights. Stabbings. You had been one of the lucky ones, a neighbor, who knew a friend that knew a friend, had gotten you a shot at La Masia. But not every kid had a miracle like that. So you built this place to be that miracle.

When you pulled up outside, the place was already bustling— kids playing on the small pitch, some working on art projects in the shaded patio, a couple of the older ones chatting by the entrance. Upstairs was a place for older teen to have access to tutors, computers, and everything they needed.

The second you stepped out of the car, a wave of excited voices filled the air.

“She’s here!”

“Estrella!”

You laughed as a small group of kids ran straight for you, arms flailing, almost knocking you over as they hugged you. “Whoa, whoa, I just got here! Let me breathe!”

Alexia and Olga trailed behind, watching with soft smiles as you ruffled hair and exchanged high fives.

You made your way inside, checking in with some of your older neighbors who helped run the place. Mrs. Rivera, who handled the tutoring sessions, Mr. López, who kept the rec room stocked, and Señora Valdez, who made sure no kid ever left hungry.

“You’ve been eating enough?” Mrs. Rivera asked, narrowing her eyes at you like she knew the answer.

You grinned sheepishly. “Of course.”

“Don’t lie to me, hija.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but Alexia cut in. “She hasn’t.”

Mrs. Rivera tsked disapprovingly, smacking your arm lightly. “Ay, Estrella, you need to take care of yourself.”

You winced dramatically. “Betrayal, Ale. Betrayal.”

Alexia just smirked. Olga laughed.

Before you could escape more scolding, a group of kids from the pitch ran up to you. “Come play with us!”

You groaned, already knowing where this was going. “Y’all just want to embarrass me.”

They giggled, clearly unbothered. “You scared?”

You scoffed. “Never.”

A makeshift game started quickly, the kids eager to take you on. You played with a mix of effort and amusement, pretending to struggle whenever they tried to steal the ball, exaggerating your movements like you were really working hard.

And then you noticed him.

A quiet little boy, standing on the edge of the pitch, watching but not playing.

You knew the look. You recognized it. You dribbled the ball over to him, stopping just in front of where he stood. “Hey, you wanna play?”

He hesitated, looking down at his shoes.

You crouched slightly, tilting your head. “I could use a goal scored on me… but I dunno, you think you could do it?”

His eyes flicked up to yours, uncertain.

You took a step back, tapping the ball toward him. “Just one shot.”

Slowly, he took a step forward, nudging the ball toward the goal. His movements were hesitant, but the moment it rolled past you and into the net, his whole face lit up.

You gasped dramatically, hands on your head. “No way! You scored on me?! That was incredible!”

Without thinking, you scooped him up and tossed him lightly in the air. He let out a surprised laugh, eyes crinkling with joy.

“You’re a superstar, pequeño!” you cheered, spinning him once before setting him back down.

The other kids immediately crowded him, patting his back and hyping him up. He looked overwhelmed for a second, but then, he smiled.

Alexia and Olga, standing off to the side, exchanged a knowing look. Pride. Love. Something unspoken between them.

Eventually, after one more round of hugs, you said your goodbyes and finally headed back to the car.

As you drove off, you glanced back once more at the center, at the kids still playing, at the place that meant everything to you.

The park was perfect, it was secluded, quiet, with a lake shimmering under the soft afternoon sun. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, and the smell of fresh grass mixed with the scent of the food Alexia was carefully setting out.

Meanwhile, you were doing everything except helping. “Mamá, look at this!” you called out, mid-cartwheel, before transitioning straight into a backflip.

Olga, sitting on a picnic blanket with a lazy smile, clapped enthusiastically. “¡Eso es, mi niña! Do another one!”

You grinned, landing a perfect front flip before turning back to her with your hands on your hips, chest puffed out proudly. “Ten out of ten, right?”

“More like eleven out of ten,” Olga teased, motioning you over.

Alexia, kneeling by the food, rolled her eyes. “Can we please eat before you break something?”

You pouted dramatically but obeyed, skipping over and plopping down next to Olga, who immediately pulled you into her side.

Lunch was peaceful, soft conversations, laughter, the occasional stealing of food off each other’s plates. The lake glistened in the background, the wind carried the sound of rustling leaves, and for a while, everything just felt right. Then, Alexia nudged a small box toward you.

“Here,” she said, her tone neutral, but the glint in her eyes said otherwise.

You blinked, looking between them. Olga was already grinning. Suspicious. With careful hands, you lifted the lid and pulled out.

“A jersey?” You held it up, confused. It was tiny, white and blue, and had Putellas 3 printed on the back.

You stared at it, then at them. “Guys, this is cute, but I don’t think this is going to fit me,” you deadpanned.

Olga burst into laughter, shaking her head as she motioned toward the box. “Keep looking.”

Frowning, you dug deeper, pulling out— an ultrasound photo. Your brain short-circuited for a second. You stared. Then stared some more. Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Then, everything clicked.

Your head snapped up so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash. “No way.”

Olga was grinning, eyes crinkling with joy. Alexia was watching you, a soft, amused expression on her face.

You shot up like a rocket, nearly knocking over the entire picnic setup. “I’M GONNA BE A BIG SISTER?!”

Laughter bubbled from both of them as you took off running— nowhere in particular, just sprinting in wild circles around the picnic area, hands in your hair like you were trying to physically contain your excitement.

Alexia shook her head fondly. “Should we tell her to calm down?”

Olga snorted. “Let her get it out of her system.”

After a few more dramatic laps around the blanket, you suddenly stopped, whipped around, and swooped back down, tackling both of them in a hug so tight Olga wheezed.

“This is the best day ever,” you mumbled, squished between them, holding onto them like they’d disappear if you let go.

Olga kissed the top of your head. “We thought you’d like it.”

“Like it?!” You pulled back just enough to look at them, your grin splitting your face. “I’m gonna be the best big sister ever!”

Alexia chuckled. “We don’t doubt it.”

You nodded seriously, already planning all the things you’d teach your future sibling, all the ways you’d look out for them. Then, as if the excitement couldn’t be contained a second longer, you let out another happy yell and took off running again.

Olga and Alexia simply watched, hands intertwined, hearts full.

Yeah. This was definitely the best day ever.

[slutoru1207]

Home Among the Stars 

A/N: I felt like writing something cute. Also, im currently fixing everything on my tumblr sooo sorry it's taking some time. OMG i need people to inbox me so can make more invincible x reader or any characters!!!

Mark had noticed it before you ever said a word.

The way your fingers traced over old photos from Earth. The way your gaze lingered on the horizon, looking for something that wasn’t there. The little sighs you let out when you thought he wasn’t listening.

You never complained. Never said you wanted to leave. But Mark knew you—better than anyone. And he could see it.

You missed home.

And that? That was something he could fix.

It took weeks. Months, even.

Mark wasn’t a builder. He could destroy things easily, tear down mountains with his bare hands—but creating? That was new. Still, he was determined.

He studied Earth architecture. Found materials that mimicked wood and stone. He obsessed over the details—down to the soft creak of the porch steps, the way the kitchen felt warm and inviting, the big windows letting in natural light. He even made sure the house had a proper backyard, one big enough for you.

Because this? This wasn’t just a house.

This was your home.

When he took you there, he didn’t say a word.

Just scooped you up in his arms and flew—fast enough to make you yelp, slow enough to keep you close. The alien landscape stretched beneath you, endless hills and skies. But then—

You saw it.

Nestled in a quiet valley, a house. But not just any house—your house.

A wraparound porch hugged the front, wooden beams carved with care. The windows reflected the soft light, and a little pathway led to the backyard. It looked so out of place in this world, yet so right.

Your breath caught. “Mark…”

But he was already watching you, waiting—eyes flickering over your face, desperate to see your reaction.

“Do you like it?” he asked, voice softer than usual. Almost hesitant.

You turned to him, heart swelling. “I love it."

If Mark thought you were just going to sit in your perfect little house and do nothing—he was wrong.

Within days, you had a plan.

The backyard? Your domain now.

Mark stood on the porch, arms crossed, watching as you knelt in the dirt—carefully planting rows of vegetables, fruit, and roses.

He had never seen you so focused. There was a smear of soil on your cheek, your hands covered in dirt, but you were glowing.

"This is ridiculous,” he muttered, though he was grinning.

You wiped sweat from your forehead, smirking up at him. “You built me a house. I’m making it a home.”

And he couldn’t argue with that.

Despite not needing to eat as often as humans, Mark still insisted on helping you in the kitchen. You taught him how to knead dough, chop vegetables (without crushing them), and make dishes from scratch.

One night, he surprised you by making dinner on his own.

It was… chaotic. Flour on the counter, ingredients everywhere, but he stood there proudly, holding a plate of slightly misshapen but adorable homemade dumplings.

You tried one. Not bad.

Mark raised a brow. “That good, huh?”

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him. “It’s perfect.”

One evening, as the sky turned soft shades of orange and pink, Mark called you outside.

You stepped onto the porch—only to see a tiny puppy sitting at his feet.

White fur, light brown spots, floppy ears, and huge soulful eyes. It looked up at you and let out a tiny bark.

Your heart melted.

“Oh my god—” you crouched down instantly, scooping up the little thing. It fit perfectly in your arms, soft and warm. The puppy licked your cheek, tail wagging furiously.

Mark rubbed the back of his neck, looking smug. “I figured you might want some company when I’m out.”

Tears pricked at your eyes. “You got us a dog?”

His arms wrapped around you from behind, chin resting on your shoulder as he hummed, “Mmm, yeah. But mostly for you.”

You turned, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I love you.”

He grinned. “I know.”

After a long day of planting, cooking, and running around with your new puppy, the two of you sat on the porch.

The sky above was endless, filled with stars brighter than anything on Earth.

You leaned against Mark, wrapped in a soft blanket, a cup of tea in your hands. His arm was slung around you, warm and secure. The puppy curled up at your feet, tiny snores filling the air.

“You happy?” he murmured, voice low and gentle.

You turned, looking at him—the strongest warrior in the universe, the same man who built you a home with his own two hands just to make you smile.

You kissed him softly. “Yeah. I really am.”

And in that moment, with the universe stretching out before you, Mark realized something.

This wasn’t just your home.

It was his, too.

Because wherever you were—that’s where he belonged.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the repercussions to rinse away

buttercup, chapter nine

a/n: was shower sex at the very top of my list of things to include in the new chapters? fuck yeah it was, as it should be. double bingo because he'd also super hurt, but like in the slutty way that he does it (you know exactly what i'm talking about. just look at the gif i made right up there if you need a visual aid)

summary: “…I want to ask you about how this happened, but I have a feeling you’re not gonna tell me…” 

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, smut, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, the black daredevil suit, hurt/comfort, injuries, blood, kissing, shower sex, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, impact play, pussyjob, thighjob, squirting, multiple orgasms, protected sex, penetrative sex, cockwarming

word count: 4163

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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“Knock, knock,” you hummed as you pushed open the door to Nelson and Murdock, peeking inside before you crossed the threshold completely. As your eyes flickered away from the empty offices, they then landed on the kitchenette off to the left where the only remaining employee stood. 

“Hey,” Matt twisted his head in your direction to flash you the soft smile that promptly blossomed on his lip, as the sound of your voice melted into him like sweet hot chocolate on his tongue, warming him from the inside. 

As his fingers went back to fixing himself a cup of coffee, extending to click on the electric kettle, you stepped closer before he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“So…” you breathed, slightly tense as his lips faded from your skin, “…are you alright?” 

“Hm?” his brows knit together gently, “yeah, of course, I’m fine.” 

“Okay, good,” you leaned against the counter with an exhale, “it’s just when you didn’t show up last night, I got a bit worried.” 

“Shit,” he cursed sharply as it all came rushing back to him at once, “sweetheart, I’m sorry.” 

Since today had been an early morning shift for you, the plan had been for Matt to let himself into your apartment last night after his patrol, so that your paths could, at the very least, cross for a brief moment instead of waiting multiple days for your schedules to once again align. But instead of feeling the comfort of his presence slip into bed beside you, he never came, and even when you dragged yourself out of bed while it was still pitch black outside in order to make it to the bakery when the clock struck four, fear had swayed you to briefly peek inside of his neighbouring apartment, as a detour when you slipped out of your own, but he was still nowhere to be seen. 

“It’s okay, I understand,” you gracefully swallowed the lingering disappointment, “you probably just lost track of time, saving people who needed it, or just plain forgot,” you shared the theories you’d cooked up while you’d worked the early shift you’d clocked out of just before wandering over here, “or maybe we just missed each other, you got home right when I left, or maybe you didn’t wanna wake me up…” 

Grasping your hand as the kettle clicked beside him, now puffing with steam, he exhaled, “what can I do to make it up to you?” 

Pursing your lips as you thought through the options, you then suggested, “how about I sleep in your bed tonight,” your finger lightly poked his chest before catching his tie and gently running your thumb and forefinger down the silky strand, “and that way we won’t miss each other tomorrow?” 

“Deal,” he smiled, stealing a swift peck before he finished brewing his simple cup of coffee.

Though when his feet then began to shift across the floor for the first time since you’d stepped into the office, a furrow found your brow as you noticed how stiffly he was walking, carefully rounding the corner, mug clutched in one hand as the other palm trailed the wall on his way back to his own desk.  

“…why are you walking like that?” you tilted your head as you picked up on more of the obvious signs than just the pained facial expressions that he tried his best to suppress. 

“Like what?” he tried to act like a kid who hadn’t just been caught with their hand down the cookie jar. 

“Matthew…” your head faintly twisted from side to side as impatience overtook you and you continued to stare at him in concern, “don’t–…” 

“Don’t what?” he kept his tone innocent, though didn’t spin back to face your overflowing worry. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, your eyes narrowed before you uttered, “…take off your shirt.” 

However, he still went on shielding you from the truth as he instead plastered on a smirk and croaked, “alright, sure,” placing his cup down on his desk as he finally whirled around to face you, “if that’s a way I can make it up to you, but just so you know before you start stripping as well, Foggy and Karen will be back any second.” 

“Oh, stop! That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it,” you snapped, snuffing out his charm, “take it off,” you repeated firmly and watched as the faux grin finally dropped from his lips, “let me see.” 

Slowly, he reached up to tug at his tie, carefully slipping it over his head before his fingers began to work at the buttons down his crisp shirt and flickers of agony flashed across his features before it finally parted enough for you to see. 

“Oh, Matt…” you exhaled as you spotted the grievous wounds sporadically scattered across the sliver of his torso on display for you, all of them shielded behind blood-tainted bandages. 

“I’m okay,” he gently grasped your hands as your fingers reached out to trace a ghostly touch safely along the skin beside some of the injuries.  

“What happened?” you whispered as you tried to keep the reins on your imagination and not let it run wild. 

“Sweetheart, this is nothing–” 

“It doesn’t fucking look like nothing! Is this why you didn’t show up last night?” you asked before the guilty look that flashed across his features became all the answer you needed, “Matt…” 

“I’m sorry,” he uttered softly. 

“You should have called me, I could have come, instead of you just lying unconscious and bleeding out in an alley somewhere,” you pleaded quietly. 

“I wasn’t bleeding out in an alley,” he said, attempting to calm your erratic nerves, “Y/n, I’m fine, I promise. It looks a lot worse than it is.” 

“How did it even happen? Are you in danger? Is someone after you?” 

“It was nothing,” his head faintly shook from his to side as he tightened his grip on your hands, “baby, it was nothing, okay?”  

“…okay…” you hesitantly nodded, doing your best to let go of the fear still churning your stomach, “…you know, maybe it would be smart if I learned a little bit more about medicine since things like this are a much more common occurrence for you than I think I realised…” you blinked back down at his beaten and bruised skin, your fingertips briefly catching the hem of his open shirt. 

“I can teach you what I know,” he tilted closer, grasping your cheek before he pressed a kiss to your lips, “…so,” the corners of his mouth twisted upwards as he then shifted topics in an effort to distract you from the remainder of your worries, “was it a no then on the quickie before the others get back?” 

It was a stifled groan that woke you from your slumber. 

Slowly blinking your eyes open, as you layed curled on your side, alone in your boyfriend’s bed, you had to squint before you saw the figure on the other side of the apartment, sitting by the dining table in the dark. 

With his black mask dangling off the edge of the table, Matt’s fingers froze before they could reach back into the open first aid kit as his head tilted and he heard how your legs shifted slightly beneath the dove grey duvet as you woke up. 

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he called out quietly, keeping his back turned to you as he stayed still and tried to not let you notice what he was doing, “I’ll be there in a second.”

But instead, you sucked in a breath and crawled out of bed. Your soft nightgown unravelled and tumbled down around your thighs from where it had been gathered up around your waist while you were sleeping. 

A long sigh slipped from Matt when your bare feet neared him and his current state became impossible for him to hide. His tight black shirt was pushed up to his waist, exposing the wound just above his hip, one that you’d spotted earlier that day back in the office, though now it was no longer neatly bandaged, but instead slowly leaking blood as he worked at stitching it back closed. 

“Matt…” you breathed as your eyes flickered everywhere from his bloody nose to the small knicks that had sliced through the thin material of his shirt.

Bathed by the neon lights that leaked in through the tall windows behind him, he simply exhaled, “I’m fine,” as he reached for a clean cotton pad in the first aid kit and dabbed it against the wound he was patching back up, swiftly swallowing a grunt of pain as the gauze was slowly stained crimson. 

“You can’t keep saying that,” you pulled out the chair next to him and sank down, “tell me what to do.” 

“You don’t have to,” he gritted his teeth as he pierced the curved needle in his grasp through his skin one last time before tying the thread off with a tiny knot, “I can handle it myself–” 

“Matthew! Will you please just shut up and let me help?” you barked, finally cutting through his stubbornness before you watched an exhale slip from his lungs and his head slowly tilted in a nod, “thank you,” you huffed before scooting a bit closer, “now, please be honest this time, how bad is it?” 

“I promise, it’s not that bad,” he uttered as his hand that clutched to cotton wad kept on putting some pressure over the freshly closed-up laceration.

“Do you need any more stitches anywhere else?” your eyes kept on scanning his bruised body, noting as he spoke the bloody gash that split up his lip. 

“No, it was just this one that popped back open,” he carefully took the swab away from the wound with tender dabs, the needle that still dangled from the thread swung gently from the friction, “I just need to get cleaned up, maybe a few bandages and I’ll be fine,” he tried to flash you a smile, though the brave face didn’t help the way that he’d hoped. 

All he could hear was how fast your pulse was beating as you stared at him, tears threatening to spring forth as your heart nearly burst straight out of your chest. 

“Y/n,” his hand swiftly found your own, “hey,” he uttered gently, “take a breath… take a breath…” his head faintly nodded in soft encouragement as he steered you to finally fill your lungs properly. 

As your shoulders finally began to relax, you felt him let go of your palm again before his fingers went back to work. 

“What do you need me to do?” you asked once more. 

Tilting his head towards the first aid box, he murmured, “you can grab the scissors.” 

And as you grasped it, you watched as he then leaned back in the chair, a jagged breath slipping from his lungs as he shifted, before he plucked up the dangling needle and held it out for you to snip the thread. 

“Like that?” you asked once you’d cut through the thin cord, nervous that you’d somehow messed the small task up. 

But as he brushed his fingertips against the short string that remained at the end of the row of stitches he’d knotted, the corner of his lip twitched as he uttered, “perfect,” before he carefully tugged his shirt back down over his stomach. 

A long exhale escaped Matt as he finally let himself relax and fall back down from the highs the events of his night had brought him to. For a while, you both just sat there in silence as he sank further into the serenity he’d made his way back to. 

But then, as his eyes fluttered closed, you parted your lips and uttered, “…I want to ask you about how this happened, but I have a feeling you’re not gonna tell me…” 

Face briefly threatening to scrunch up at the frustration that bubbled up in him, he muttered, “sweetheart–”

“But I just wanna say that even though I know why you don’t like to talk to me about the details,” you cut him off before he had the chance to stop you, “sometimes it doesn’t protect me, sometimes my active imagination takes a hold and tries to fill in the blanks in ways that are surely so much worse than the reality…” 

Sucking in a breath, a second passed before he said, “…you really wanna know?” 

“Yes,” you swiftly nodded, leaning in a tad closer in your seat. 

Sitting up a bit more, he planted a forearm for support on the table before he began to tell you, “a few weeks back I intervened in this trafficking deal, two dozen women and kids, ready to be shipped off like lambs at the slaughter,” his hand gestured alongside his words, “turns out it was connected to something much bigger than I had thought,” he exhaled before uttering, “do you know who Joseph Giordano is?” 

“I don’t think so,” you murmured slowly, “why?”

“He is next in line to the throne in the Giordano crime family.”

Your brows then knit together as you blinked back at him, “…are you saying that there’s an entire mob after you right now?” 

“Well, I don’t know if they’re after me, I’ve just pissed them off a few times,” he tried to downplay his situation in order to calm your nerves that began to pick back up again, thumping in his ears like the booming base at a club. 

“Is that what happened tonight? You pissed them off again?” you looked once again to how hurt he was before he begrudgingly began to nod his head faintly, “…so, how worried should I be?”

“It's nothing I can’t handle,” he uttered as his years of experience shined clear through his tone. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “I am so close to putting a stop to them, all of them, making them pay for all the shit that they’ve done,” his sentence culminated in a heated huff before he let it go. Carefully rising from his seat, he briefly flashed you a tight-lipped smile as he changed the subject, “I’m gonna go clean up, you head back to bed.”

“No, I’ll–,” you swiftly stood up as well, “let me give you a hand.” 

Pausing just before he began to shift close to the bathroom, he then murmured, “alright,” before he let you grab his palm and shadow him with every careful step. 

Reaching an arm into the shower, you turned on the water so that it could begin to rise to a temperature that wasn’t like having snow dumped down over you. As you twisted back around, you spotted Matt’s features, faintly screwed up, as he cautiously peeled his shirt off, though before it could slip over his head, your fingers caught the tail end of it.

As you dropped it down on the edge of the sink, Matt’s hands found his belt, although before his nimble fingers could begin to undo it, your own touch landed upon his own before his palms slipped out from under yours and he let you take over. 

First, you kneeled down before him and slipped off his boots, pushing them off to the side before you straightened back up to undo his pants, gently tugging them alongside his dark boxers. 

As you rose back up with the last of his black vigilantly suit in hand, your partner’s wide palms naturally found your waist in a soft graze, before your fingers then drifted to the hem of your nightgown and he felt the fabric slip beneath his touch as you pulled it over your head.

Dropping it down on the top of his own clothing, piled up on the edge of the sink, you then grabbed his hand once again before your feet began to shuffle against the tile, backing up till you were both in the shower. Twisting you both around, you slowly guided him under the drizzle of water, still holding his palm in yours as it began to rain down on his battered form. 

The water turned a ruddy shade as it cascaded over his body and gently washed the blood away. Gingerly, you let your fingers ghost over his injuries, being careful as you helped clean them. His eyes fluttered closed when your touch floated up from his chest to his jaw before you softly swept over the crimson that had dried in a trickled path from the gash on his forehead, his nostrils from the blow his nose evidently had taken, as well as from the small cut on his lip that had begun to puff it up slightly. 

Gliding your hands down to his hips, you gently guided him around for his broad back to face you. As your hands skimmed over the fresher damages, your touch couldn’t help but slow as you blinked back at the gnarly old scars that split up his skin. You’d likewise been staring at the ones all over the rest of his flesh as your touch swept across his body, but as he stood, facing away from you, the intimate graze of your fingertips couldn’t help but slide up and trace the long marks. 

You barely realised that you’d stopped your aiding efforts till it was just your thumb lightly brushing against one of his scars, back and forth in short swoops, before you closed the short distance and pressed a tender peck to the middle of his spine. 

Though as your touch slowly returned to their work, his hand suddenly snatched up one of yours. His feet shifted slightly, angling him only partly back to face you, he raised your palm up as he bowed his head to meet the back of it and press your hand to his lips. 

Ripping your gaze away from his broad back as it slowly twisted away from you, it swiftly drifted up to Matt’s features, faintly wistful as he planted the soft peck to the back of your palm. When he came to face you once again, his other hand swept up your frame till it came to cup your cheek. 

A soft breath flowed from his nostrils before he uttered, “I love you…” in a tone that made it sound as if he was thanking you, before he then tilted your face up as he bent down to gently press his lips to your own. 

For a while, he kissed you as if he was trying to make time itself stop, as it stretched on, slow and smouldering, light on your lips. But then, while the hand he had on your cheek stayed in place, the other one let go of your palm and drifted down around your waist, gently caressing your side before his fingers slightly dented your skin as he drew you in closer and the light pecks morphed and deepened so slowly that you barely registered the change he had initiated till your tongue was suddenly dancing heatedly against his own. 

His touch on the side of your face soon faded as it instead slipped down the landscape of your body and a heavy intake of air rushed in through his nose as the kiss then grew more desperate. Though as you hugged him closer, careful with your touch, a quiet gasp suddenly bubbled up your throat as his frame finally pressed flush up against your own and you felt the hardness that now poked you in your stomach. 

“Matty…” you breathed in between ravenous pecks as his cock throbbed against your skin. 

A low groan rumbled in his chest as his wide palms then swooped down over the curve of your ass, briefly digging his touch into your softness and making your cunt clench around nothing, before his knees then bent slightly and his hard length slotted in between your thighs, perfectly slipping against your pussy. 

Letting the devil out, Matthew then let himself rut against your folds, a gravelly grunt rolling off his tongue as he momentarily rested his forehead against your own.  

“O-oh, fuck…” you moaned as his hardness continued to nudge against you, parting your slick petals with his fat girth. Hazily tilting your head back at the feeling, you soon felt his lips flutter down your neck, “Matt…” 

Though your pants continued to grow unanswered as your partner only growled in response before one of his hands soared up to capture your jaw and tilt your head for your lips to come crashing back against his own in a feverish kiss.  

Shifting your frame, he then brought your legs closer together till the softness of your thighs hugged around his length still slotted against your pussy. With his hold still digging into the softness of your bottom, he then began to fuck your thighs, though with each needy thrust he granted himself, the details of his cock still dragged against your buzzing clit and made you whimper against his kiss. 

And when you were both on the verge of exploding, nearly too pent up to keep your balance on the wet tile floor, he hastily reached an arm out of the shower and grabbed a condom from the medicine cabinet. Snatching it from his hands, you panted as you rolled it on him, briefly raising yourself up to stand on your toes to steal a breathless peck from him as your fingers twisted the latex into place, granting him a soft stroke once you’d finished. 

Long moans drew forth from both of you when he slowly slid inside, his forehead melting down against your own as he paused at the very tip, letting your cunt clench around his girth a moment before gradually giving you more in shallow thrusts. 

Whimpering to the rhythm of his steady pace, you blinked up at him and panted, “I love you,” before he then crashed his lips against your own. Tilting your hips slightly as he gently rocked inside of you, slowly dragging his cock out of your pussy, most of the way, till he dove himself back in once more, each time burying himself a little deeper than before. 

Your palms slid up his burly chest before your touch tangled around his neck, holding on tight as his desperate grunts melted against your tongue. Matt’s grasp, still on your ass, dented your flesh further as he then began to move your body for you, dragging your hips closer to meet his bucks and grant him the angle to go even deeper, filling you up till your eyes rolled in your skull. His hands swiftly tapped against your butt as he found a greedy pace, one that caused your pussy to sing sinfully over the splashing of the showerhead still pouring down over the both of you. 

The next thing you knew, Matthew then snapped, losing the last bit of self-control he had left after the long night he’d had, and drowned himself completely in the one pleasure that his soul ached for. Feverishly, he suddenly plucked you up off the wet tile, his fat length still nestled deep within you as he picked you up into his arms. 

“Oh my god,” you yelped as he rooted his strong hold under your ass, “wait, no,” your nails instinctively dug into the nape of his neck, “you’re hurt–”

But he only cut you off with a quiet, “shh…” as his nose brushed against your own before he uttered in a gravelly tone, “trust me when I say, I can take a lot more than this when I’m way worse off.” 

And with you in his arms, he then readjusted his grip on you, briefly tossing you up a smidge, before he then sank you back down onto his cock, plugging you up till you couldn’t help but let out a shaky moan as your brain momentarily went blank in the ecstasy.  

Toes curling, you whimpered, “j-just be careful,” as you spread out your fingers till they weaved through the short hair at the back of his head. 

But rather than of playing it safe like you begged him to, he instead just tightened his hold on you as he growled, “I’ll be careful later,” before he then went to town, pounding away till the showerhead above wasn’t the only thing gushing. 

And when Matt finally came undone, after you began to fear he might not snap out of his ravenous haze till the sun rose, fucking your pussy till you could no longer stand on your own two feet, your spine was plastered against the tile wall as his head melted down against your shoulder. The shower went on running as he kept you in his arms, both of you panting as he granted himself the gift of staying warm inside your fluttering cunt even longer and further drawing out the bliss to balance out the night that he had endured. 

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[kismetlotts]

cw: soft love, soft sex, sexual content, mentions of rough sex but none at all, Simon cant help but get emotional, crying, cheek kisses, mentions of Simons military scars, soft touch, love, riding, comfort

Simon Riley who cries during sex- but not in a broken submissive way. Not because you’ve teased him, treat him and took him like the good boy he is. Not because you’ve made him beg and yearn for you so hard and so much he can’t help but sob.

No, Simon Riley who cries because no matter how humid the room is, how wet the sheets are from the both of your sweat and love combined, no matter how dark- lights on and off, only one thing comes to his mind when you settle yourself down on him.

How beautiful you are.

Hearing your murmurs, whines- moans and breaths. Hearing you ask him if everything is okay- if you were okay- if you were fucking ‘good’ for him. It pissed him off because you were perfect in every single way. Even when you accidentally gripped him a little too hard, or bit down or wriggled in a way that makes him hiss- every little fault and fail was perfect because you made it. And it made him emotional. Made him feel.

He’d try to be brave, to be calm- to shake and swallow down them emotions. An SAS soldier crying during sex? What an absolute loser! He didn’t want you to catch him like that, his large hand gently fisting the back of your hair before pushing your face down into his shoulder. Watered eyes, staring up at the ceiling as tears leaked from the corner of his eyes and dripped either side of his head.

“Am I doing alright?” You would breathe out to him. Raising your head from his shoulder while moving your hips to match his rhythm. The duvet to the double bed the two of you shared draped over your shoulders, concealing you both together. Together; the two of you- Simon wished he could live in this moment forevermore.

“Of-” He would start but pause as his voice cracked and lip quivered, choking back the tears that threatened to break. The dark hairs of his eyebrows furrowed in irritation as he scolded himself mentally. Throat was jammed, his heart a mix between bursting open and falling into his stomach. For once he felt vulnerable. He shouldn’t be acting this way- sex was supposed to be full of hunger and desire.

You reached your hand down, placing it over his own that fell attached to the skin of your waist. It was so natural to you, you didn’t even notice you did it meanwhile Simon almost broke apart at the gesture. Inhaling sharply and getting hold of himself.

“Of course you are. Perfect in every way.” His voice a croaky whisper and he pressed his chapped lips against the soft skin of your cheek. Kissing you with such passion and care.

The scars of his fingers brushed against your skin while he pushed your hair to the side with his free hand. The two of you locked like that while you both orgasmed. Skin to skin, chest to chest; his molten warmth flooding you with admiration and affection. It was real, he felt purpose with you.

Moments passed and the two of you would move to get comfortable, he’d move his arms letting you climb off of him before immediately rubbing his eyes clear. You wouldn’t miss the redness and the way his nose sounded all snotty as he breathed in; but if you were ever to ask he would just tell you he was feeling tired.

You couldn’t miss the times you heard a whimper slip that was a pitch to high to be from pleasure alone, the times you’d seen the skin beneath his eyes shine- of course it could just be sweat- however deep down you knew otherwise and he was fully aware you knew about his ‘tearful tendencies’. He saw it in your eyes as you searched his face.

You didn’t push him, though. You didn’t tease him or tell him that he shouldn’t be embarrassed. You didn’t try to comfort him and you did not pester him about it. You never mentioned it once because sometimes words aren’t needed to communicate. Dark eyes fluttering shut as your fingers trailed the muscles and veins of his arms, soft strokes against his harsh, worn skin: your touch spoke volumes to him.

You understood that, even if he knew that you knew, he didn’t need the confirmation: just the comfort to barricade himself out his head.

And that was another reason he loved you.

[pythonmoth]

cw: FLUFF. social anxiety. self-imposed exposure therapy (pls never do that!). cute and then not so cute, but cute again! panic attack. dissociation. reader is traumatized and inconsistent. implied sexual activity, nothing explicit. simon is a whiny little bitch. slightly styled text.

primary simon x f!reader. poly tf141.

word count: 4k

First | Last | Next

Having breakfast with Johnny, with the team, wasn’t something you realized you’ve been missing.

It fits right in your heart, filling a hole you didn’t know has been empty.

So many years have gone by and little things like this usually go ignored until you’re forced to be aware of them and their absence. Maybe it’s therapy; maybe it’s that you’ve gotten used to being alone after nine months, only relying on your brother for a few months and then being on your own, but breakfast with the people you’ve called your family for nearly ten years now, it’s something your body accepted as necessary once you got it back, only then understanding how much you’ve been missing it.

Once everybody’s tummy is filled with tea, coffee and good food, they take turns to shower, one by one leaving to get ready until it’s only Simon and you. He looks far more relaxed than the day before, his eyes warm as he nods when you talk, telling him about how you’ve been planning to remodel a little, maybe change the paint of the exterior or even add some flowers to your backyard. Now that you’re forced to stay home, there are things that you want to change so it looks prettier when you come back. 

You don’t miss the way his right cheek jumps, as if he’s trying not to grimace; you know it isn’t a happy memory for anybody, but you’re glad he isn’t trying to shut it down, and merely accepting it as it is. Same as you are.

“Do you know if Tommy is available? I might have to call him up, since I can’t reach everything on my own. He’s the closest one to a professional I know, anyway” you hum, your fingers entertained as they rip apart a sugar packet, your eyes not leaving it for a moment.

“My brother? I think so. I can ask him to contact you” Simon mumbles. You look up when you notice how unhappy he sounds. He’s… pouting.

“What?”

Simon frowns, seemingly unsure if he should speak up or not. In the end, just when you’re starting to overthink and overanalyze everything you’ve said and done to get him to look like his, he finally looks up.

“I’m… I am available. I could help you” he grunts. “I’ve helped him at work before and I can get it done as quickly as he can” Simon rushes, as if he couldn’t help it. “With the right tools, perhaps even faster”.

When you go quiet, he shuts up. You’re hyper aware of his eyes on you as you look down at the ruined sugar packet in your fingers, biting down on your lip. It’s not that you don’t know he helps Tommy sometimes, it just felt like a safer question.

In the back of your mind, you think back to something your therapist mentioned as a possibility, something that could help you with the PTSD, though she said it wasn’t time nor a good idea for you yet. That was five months ago and, really, neither of you mentioned it again. Maybe…

Exposure therapy. It should be okay.

After all, what’s the worst that can happen? It’s just Simon.

“Wait, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I can just call him and—”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay” you interrupt him, your eyes twinkling a little. “If you’re free… we could start today, buy a few things. Please?”

And so, when the morning comes to an end, Price, Gaz and Johnny say their goodbyes, only Gaz and Price coming over to kiss your cheek and pat your head. Johnny gives you a bright smile and a promise to come over later. Price makes sure you remember his number, just in case. Gaz cups your cheeks, kissing your forehead loudly before he walks out the door with Price.

Johnny kisses Simon briefly before they leave, Gaz playfully gagging behind them. You see him, however, getting nudged by Price, both of them looking quite content; surely, there was a conversation you weren’t part of. The sun is high up as the car disappears from sight, some part of your heart wishing they could stay longer, but this will be good.

You hope so, at least.

Then, it’s only Simon and you.

It takes you fifteen minutes to get ready, and another ten minutes for you to stop looking in the mirror, reminding yourself that you’re not going alone. You don’t have to double check behind you, you’ve nothing to fear. But, the reminder that is Simon who’s coming with you, brings an unwelcome feeling at the base of your spine.

It’s somewhat irrational, you’re aware. But it’s still scary, and it doesn’t make it less real.

Taking a deep breath, you nod to yourself in the mirror, and step back, hastily putting away your makeup and promising yourself you’re going to clean the few-weeks-old dust from it when you’re back.

Your guts flip when you realize the sun’s already coming down, and it makes you feel insane that you can’t even focus on things like that; why would you be unsure of how long you’ve spent spacing out? That’s something else to mention the therapist, maybe.

Simon’s waiting in the living room when you come down, his face relaxed and his eyes fixed on his phone. His leg betrays him, however, because you can tell he’s been waiting, anxious. When he hears you, Simon gets up, checking his pockets to make sure he has everything and gives you a thumbs up, gingerly walking towards you.

“You ready?” he asks, his expression inviting, as if giving you an out. He looks just as anxious as you feel, and that makes you feel a little better.

Reaching into your bag, you make sure you have your knife and the spare knife, before nodding at him. As you both make your way out and into the car, you also pat the left pocket of your jeans. 

Pocket knife is a must, sometimes.

Buying the paint isn’t nearly as boring as you thought it would be. 

Simon makes it his mission to keep you entertained, easily reading the anxiety in your body language; he talks.

He talks a lot. And quite easily, much to your surprise.

Simon tells you why the lighter painting is better, and why you shouldn’t go for the darker one in certain places of the house, and why grey is a hard no if you want your house to look good. The black surgical mask is almost funny with how much it moves over his mouth, but you focus on him, and soon enough, you’re less worried, talking more, smiling and laughing at his awful jokes.

Eventually, in the middle of one of Simon’s morbid comments —"Look, that ashtray would be a funny gift for Johnny, if you ask me. We could make him fit in there later. Do you think it would be cheaper if we tell them why we want it?"—, you find the perfect shade for the exterior of your house. Simon isn’t convinced, you can see it, but he doesn’t complain, only crossing his arms and tilting his head, as if calculating in his brain how much you’ll need. He’s been at your house many times, and knows it as well as you do.

Simon’s the one who asks for the paint and a few other tools, since you’re already aware he won’t let you carry it anyway. You hand Simon your credit card, and turn away, distracted with little light bulbs of soft white light that would look pretty good in your bedroom, so you don’t notice he doesn’t use your card to pay for it, but his instead. He doesn’t tell you either as he hands the plastic back to you and carries the bucket and the rest of the big tools to the car.

Just like a few days ago, you find yourself checking your surroundings, especially now that it’s dark. You keep the car locked as you check the back seats with your phone, making Simon wait a moment. After making sure it’s safe, you pat your left pocket to feel the knife there and quickly get inside, finally allowing him in as well. Maybe your therapist is right and you’re still jumpy, but it is dangerous out there anyway, and there’s nothing wrong with being paranoid careful.

The drive back home is pretty calm, your shoulders finally relaxing after nearly two hours of being on edge. Simon’s music blasts on the speakers, a little too loud to be safe, but you need the distraction, and the streets are pretty lonely at night so you only focus on it, mumbling the lyrics to yourself.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re home and carrying the little bag with tools, which is the only thing Simon will let you grab, and get inside. Not even bothering to turn back, you lock the door behind you and take your shoes off, letting Simon take the plastic bag from your hands so he can set everything by the back door.

“I’ll be up early. If you wanna help, make sure you’re up by 7am” Simon grumbles, yawning as he takes the mask off.

“I haven’t woken up at 7am in like… nine months. That’s too early”.

“Tough shit”.

With a happy feeling in your chest, you say goodnight and go up to your room, leaving Simon to get comfortable in the guest room. Neither of you mention it, but it’s implicit he won’t be staying in your room like he would if this were before. The stairs creak slightly when you pause, your hand over the handrail, looking down as he seems to hesitate before waving at you, making his way to the room.

Out of habit, and maybe feeling a little anxious, you lock the door before taking your heavy jacket off. Getting ready to sleep alone feels a bit odd now that Gaz isn’t laying in your bed, but soon enough, you’re fresh and clean, and ready to sleep.

A loud crashing sound makes you jump up, face wrinkled from the pillow and heart pounding in your chest. You make your way downstairs, nearly tripping over your bare feet, one of the long knives in your hand as you try to focus on whatever is happening. The sun hits your face from the back door, watching as Simon hisses and holds the bucket of paint up, a big splash of colour all over your wooden floor.

“What the hell are you doing?” you grunt, using the knife to scratch your forehead.

Simon looks up, his eyes widening as he takes in your appearance. He didn’t think he’d ever be given the opportunity to see you so messy in the morning, but here you are. He clears his throat and starts scraping up the paint before it dries. “I didn’t seal it and I kinda dropped it. It’s fine, I’ll clean it quickly”. He falters a little when he sees the knife in your hand, a little amused. “Are you gonna stab me for messing with your floors?”

“Maybe. Don’t tempt me” you huff, your shoulders relaxing. “Be back in ten. Don’t you dare use the skyscraper ladder without me”.

“Mhm”.

“You’re gonna break your neck if you do”.

“Heard ya” Simon grumbles, his lips curling up. “I’ll wait for you”.

The tone in his words makes your heart tremble, but your face betrays nothing. Excited to work on your house, and hoping the little challenge you're putting yourself through doesn’t end badly, you rush to get ready.

The toughest part of painting with Simon is getting the job done.

Simon doesn’t move until the edges are perfectly done. He accidentally touched something he shouldn’t have? He’s gonna spend as long as necessary to get the paint off. You’re doing it gently, slowly, so he doesn’t take the brush from you? You’re taking too long! And if you let him do it himself, then why are you sitting there all pretty while he does it all? In the end, you give him an annoyed look and he calms down.

But then, when the edges are done, and you have to use the roller? Now that’s fun.

Since it’s easier, he lets you do it yourself, one of his hands on your lower back so you don’t trip —if your heart is trembling a little, that’s none of his business. Though you’re not entirely sure if it's anxiety, or excitement—. Simon’s smiling now, guiding you with a lot more patience, chuckling next to your ear when you accidentally get paint over your hands, and some tiny, little drops on his hair.

“I’ll make something to eat after we finish the first layer” Simon promises, guiding your arm with his warm hand; a simple caress from your elbow to your wrist as he points to the little places that are missing some love, as he calls it.

It doesn’t take you both long to finish the first layer, though it is more than you expected, since Simon kept coming back to perfect the edges and some little mistakes you couldn’t even notice, but you appreciate his enthusiasm, so even if it can be a little annoying, you don’t really complain.

Simon cooks something “simple” that allows you both to take two hours off, letting the paint dry properly. With both of you working together, his movements less sudden than they were the last morning —especially with the knife, which you can appreciate—, you end up just eating on your feet, both of you in the kitchen, not even using the plates and eating straight from the pot. 

Feeling lazy to clean up after this, you reach out for a single glass, lifting your eyebrow at him. Simon nods, taking it from you to pour some cold water for the two of you.

You can tell his eyes are fixed on the little mark your lip balm leaves on the glass and the way he drinks from the exact same place, but you’re easily distracted by food, so it doesn’t cross your mind to call him out for it. It’s something he used to do a lot back then, so you’re not surprised, but… it’s a little funny, honestly.

A few hours later, Simon’s on your ass again. The stupid edges are making both of your eyes twitch and your annoyance grows with each comment about how you’re doing it wrong. He isn’t even mean, but it’s so fucking annoying it makes your blood boil, your guts churning with murderous intent.

When he fucking whines that you’re not doing it as straight as it should be, you just can’t do it anymore. Your hand reaches down to the painting tray and, when your palm is dripping, you don’t give him a moment to understand what you’re doing before you place your hand right across his face, paint getting to his hair, his forehead, his nose and temples.

“Whom do you serve?”

Simon stares at you in shock.

You have exactly two seconds to run away when you see him reaching down for one of the brushes. 

He catches up to you in just a moment, the cold brush getting paint all over your old shirt, as if he were slashing a sword across your back. You shriek, still trying to get away, but Simon’s determined now, an arm wrapping around your waist to hold you against him. “You little shit” he grunts, amusement dripping from his voice as clearly as the paint does from the brush.

“Wait!” you yelp, laughing when Simon runs the cold paint across your face, forcing your lips close for a moment as the coarse bristles run over your cheeks.

“See? Better” he laughs, his hand splaying on your stomach before he finally lets go. Your skin tingles when his warmth slips away, but then you turn around to huff at him, and notice the bright, rare smile splitting Simon’s face in two, so you end up tackling him to the ground instead.

You’re rewarded with his flushing face, a loud bark of laughter coming from deep in his belly as he doesn’t even try to stop you. You scoop the dripping paint from your cheeks with your fingers and wipe your hands clean on his hair, his shirt. The paint seems to glow over his flushed cheeks.

A loud yelp of surprise echoes in your backyard when Simon easily flips you around, one of his hands pinning your wrists to the soft grass as he uses the brush to paint ridiculously big dots all over your shirt and arms. Your entire body shakes with amusement, laughing with no inhibitions, until you try to free your wrists from his grip.

And you c a n ’t mo ve.

Your mind fills with awful memories, with pain, fea r, salt wa ter, and pain. 

Pain. Pa in. One finger nail. Five fi ngerna ils.

Th r ee toe na il s.

You suddenly freeze, zoning out. You don’t even notice Simon’s holding you up, carrying you back inside as he mumbles, whispering soft promises. His hands are gentle and warm as he wipes the paint off your face, doing his best not to get much water on your skin, but you aren’t listening, your body is rock solid and your jaw is so tight he can’t even make sure you’re not biting down on your tongue.

When you wake up, you’re in your bed.

Your skin is clean, and there’s a soft towel under you that’s now a little dirty with paint; you’re still wearing the same clothes from this morning. It takes you a little moment to remember why you’re here, and look down at your wrists. 

Right.

The sound of water running from downstairs makes you get up, taking the towel off your bed. You set it over your chair by the desk and walk downstairs, your cheeks warm with embarrassment when you see him in the kitchen. The lights are low so you can’t really see his face, but you can see his slumping shoulders, the tension on his nape and the twitching of his mouth.

“Simon?”

He nearly drops the glass when he hears your voice, but he manages to catch it just in time, freezing as he stares up at you.

He’s still covered in paint, including the mark of your hand across his face. The sight of him looking so worried and still giving you those big puppy eyes behind all that completely dry paint…

“I’m sorry”.

Simon’s lips part, the words heavy on his tongue. His eyebrows seem unsure if they should be surprised or angry, because they jump and pinch together at the same time. He lets the glass aside and walks over to you, stopping just a few steps from you, his shoulders trembling.

“Sorry? You’re— sorry? What the hell are you even apologizing for? That was my fault. I scared you, again” he mumbles, tears welling up in his eyes, even if he desperately tries to stop it, swallowing thickly and shaking his head. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It slipped my mind and I fucked up”.

You reach up to touch his shoulder, but Simon steps back, flinching away from you. Your heart breaks, your lips parting in surprise, but Simon’s too gone with guilt that he doesn’t realize it. Distantly, you wonder if this is what he’s felt this whole time. You wonder how many times you’ve broken his heart by now.

“I’ll just— I’ll call Tommy tomorrow. I’ll tell him to help you with the rest, so you don’t have to be around me for now. That will be easier” Simon mumbles, mostly to himself, his eyes darting from one place to another, avoiding your eyes. “Just let me grab my stuff. I can leave in ten minutes. I won’t bother you, I promise, I—”

Taking a quick step forward, your arms wrap around his middle, closing your eyes as you navigate through the complicated feelings growing in your chest. A little bit of fear as you feel him so close again, the panic still not gone from your system, but the love makes you weak on the knees; even like that, you don’t let go of him, your arms tightening around him when you hear him breathe shakily.

“I’m alright” you whisper, your fingers curling on his shirt, almost pleading. “Don’t leave”.

Simon’s heartbeat pounds against your ear, his arms still hovering over you, hesitant. And scared.

“Please”.

That’s all it takes for Simon to sink to his knees, gently bringing you down with him, his arms never restraining you, merely holding you close. His hands splay across your back, your sides. You grip onto him harder when you feel his tears running down your shoulders, shifting until you’re straddling his lap, his face buried in your chest as he cries in complete silence, your fingers lost in his hair.

“I love you. I’m sorry” he whispers, his voice muffled with your skin. You think he’s going to pull back, but his hands only curl slightly on your arms, your sides, one of your thighs, as if he were grounding himself.

As if he couldn’t believe you were holding him again.

The ball of feelings in your chest unravels until you’re able to slowly identify them as you both hold each other right there in the middle of the kitchen. His hands brush over your back, fingernails scratching softly over your skin, and you’re reminded of good memories, of better times; of the moment you realize you were in love with him, of the ridiculous moment he asked you to be together. Of the night Johnny joined you for the first time, of the instant you understood your own feelings, Johnny's, and Simon’s. 

You’re reminded of the night you saw Price and Simon share a fervent kiss before disappearing into the Captain’s room, more than once. And then when you saw Gaz and Price do the same over the years, even if they never freely spoke of it. 

The memories of that experimental kiss with Price, back in your first year with the team haunts your memory for a moment; both of you had paused after a while and grimaced. In the end, Price had given you his chocolate and you gave him your tea flavored mochi, the kiss forgotten and never spoken of again. 

At some point, your arms relax around Simon, but he doesn’t seem in the mood to pull away, even if his grip isn’t even too tight. It takes a little bit of nudging, a few whispered words, but he finally pulls back, his face puffy and slightly wet with tears, staring at you.

“Sleep with me?”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, it seems; his hesitation appears to be long gone as his arms easily hold you up, calmly throwing you over his shoulder. That would’ve broken the tender moment, if it weren’t for the warm hand over your back holding you still, and the shaky fingers gripping onto your thigh again as he walks up to your room.

Simon hesitates, but you kick back on your door, hurrying him up. Once inside, he sets you down, waiting by the door.

“Are you... expecting me to kick you out?”

“Yes”.

Your lips curl up, forever glad he never holds back with you, and motion him to get in. 

The anxiety doesn’t magically leave your body, and you’re still awfully terrified of him being able to just restrain you so easily again, but… progress.

It’s progress when he curses and rushes down to grab his clean clothes and a towel, asking you to let him take a shower after you’re done.

It’s progress when Simon lays in your bed, body stiff and hands shaky as he waits for you to turn the lights off.

It’s progress when you both awkwardly find a good position to sleep.

It’s progress when you wake up in the morning with his arms wrapped around you, your legs tangled, and one of your hands under his tshirt, warm against the bare skin of his back.

And it’s progress when you’re greeted with a small, sleepy smile from him before his eyes even focus properly on you.

henlo. how are we feeling? progress!!! progress!!! PROGRESS!!!

› buy me a coffee ♡

anyway, simon's autistic bc i am autistic and he's a whiny little bitch perfectionist!

if things go well, we have 8 chapters left :)

+18 people read here: yes, price and simon still fuck nasty from time to time. nobody gasped, nobody surprised.

taglist I: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic @silas-fanfic-favs @nina-from-317 @an-ever-angry-bi @kittygonap @adventurerabby @defronix @sheepispink @iambuttwodaysold @blackhawkfanatic @malevolentghoul @thriving-n-jiving @literallegendicon @echo9821 @angel-bugz @ssc7514 @clickbait-official @hades--baby @blackhawkfanatic @sirbonesly @saki---chan @skeletonsucker @nnsissys @kukavittu @tessakate @honestlymassivetrash @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @rayrayyio @diseasedclitoris @alex1011sdzfgh @thebumbqueen @hyunjaebaby @jillvalentinesrealwife @sodavrr @kneelforloki @vioxsoo @l4vstrr @leon-thot-kennedy @t3a-bag @dotmistbird @littlezarp @eclipsedcherry @codeseven @babydoll-143 @viennakarma @exitingmusic @lockofspades

[shyamanuensis]

three weeks - m.r

fight, breakup, kiss, makeup? yeah something like that. mdni. oral. a little swearing. outside of that, kinda sweet xoxo

It’s been three weeks – three long weeks and your ex still hasn’t gotten the fucking hint. It’s hard to breakup with a guy like Mattheo; not because he doesn’t understand how a breakup works but because he just doesn’t want to. You’re his – his toy, his cock sleeve, his pet, his salvation and there isn’t a thing in the world that he won’t destroy or sacrifice if it means having you to himself. This is why after 112 missed calls and close to 400 texts that have blown up your phone in the last 48 hours that you’ve wilfully ignored, he’s standing at your dorm door – feeling frustrated, horny and well, just fucking relentless.

The first few knocks are gentle; knuckles rapping at the hard wood while he stands out in the corridor on his best behaviour. He knows you’re in there; he can hear that ridiculous bubble gum pop music that you always listen to that grinds his gears coming from your stereo-system flooding the dorm room. Hell, if the knocks don’t get more and more aggressive as the seconds pass. He knows you hate this side of him – that you despise his temper. It was the reason the two of you broke up in the first place and then again, and again. It doesn’t matter though; his fists are pounding at the door for you to let him in.

Is it truly a breakup if you keep getting back together? If you keep running back to him? Mattheo is convinced it’s just a break – some time needed apart for you to appreciate him again and that’s why he’s here. Rumour had it you were heading out tonight with an older Ravenclaw boy of all fucking people on a date to some fancy ass new restaurant in Hogsmeade he had to be sure that it was indeed just a rumour. Not fact. He’s still knocking, and you can hear him – the agitated breaths, the hardened scoffs, the way he calls our name out to open the door before he bashes and bursts through it. He was willing to play nicely for one – well, by his own set of rules, but when you refuse to open up just to test his patience, he plucks out the spare key you gave him when you first got together from his pocket and lets himself inside. He wonders why he didn’t just do it in the first place.

The familiar scent of soft florals and burning candles which encapsulate your dorm hit Mattheo square on as he steps inside, and he finds himself suddenly at ease. He feels oddly at home. At peace. Glancing around; he isn’t able to find you at first, so he calls out your name with a hint of affection laced through his voice, yet you don’t respond. How odd. A little weird. That is until he hears humming coming from the bathroom. Ah; the tune doesn’t match the music that the stereo is playing but he knows you well enough to tell that you’re probably standing in front of the vanity mirror, a towel wrapped around your body, probably at the point of your makeup routine that you’re applying mascara, and he decides to pay the bathroom a visit.

“Hi Princess.” He greets you with a dark and dry drawl as he makes himself comfortable, resting up on the doorframe of the bathroom and crosses his arms, eyes eagerly tracing your silhouette as he glances over you. You’re a sopping wet mess; hair half dry, face half made up – mascara being applied just like he guessed it, all you’ve got left is to swipe some lipstick on, dry off and slip into whatever you’ll be wearing for tonight. Mattheo smirks as you glance his way; only half surprised to see him and you roll your eyes almost poetically, letting out a heavy sigh rather than asking why he’s here.

“Riddle.” You address him coldly, not in the mood for whatever bullshit reason or excuse he has for coming into your room and potentially ruining your night, but you have to admit to yourself that he looks good. Fuck he always looks good – but that tight blue jeans and black t-shirt combo does something for you – something weird, something to your libido. If a psychologist studied your thought pattern regarding what happened to your brain when you saw him like this, you’d probably be classed clinically insane. And you – fuck. To him you look like heaven. A rush of memories float behind his eyes of how many times he’s had the pleasure of thrusting into you senseless in the shower and his lip twitches, eyes darkening at the fact he’s just missed out on that opportunity.

“To what do I own the displeasure of a visit?” “Bored, horny, thought I’d come and see you.”

You both knew that his response was an absolute lie and yet neither of you say anything. He bites his lip. You notice it. He gives you that look. The one that screams “I need you. I want you” but you know better than to just give in as much as you want to. Life has been… safe for the last three weeks. Albeit boring at times but it was what you thought you wanted. What you thought you needed. All up until Mattheo fucking stood in the doorway while you tried to get ready for what would possibly be a nice, normal, decent date.

“I’m busy tonight – you need to leave.”

Your instructions are met with a snicker. His gaze is on you like that of a predators. Heavy, dominating, seductive. Within a few long strides, he’s standing behind you; glancing into your eyes using the mirrors reflection and with his hands on your hips, he can feel that you’ve already started to become weak. His lips skim across your shoulders, up the side of your neck, he nips at your pulse point, you let out a shakey breath. He knows he has won before any form of back and forth bickering even begins so he flickers his tongue across your earlobe and whispers as softly as can be… “I’ve missed you.”

Your shoulders drop, your eyes shut, you let out a whimper of his name and that’s all it takes to confirm within yourself that you’ve missed him to. You shouldn’t, but fuck… you can’t help it. He’s addictive in every fucking sense of the word and you’re forever willing to dive in headfirst into whatever chaos he brings along with him. You shake your head; not in defiance but because you need a time out already with what he’s making you feel and Mattheo buries his head into the crook of your neck murmuring sweet nothings as his fingers dance across the hem of the towel you’re wrapped in – teasingly tiptoeing towards you core as the tips swipe across your folds, feeling just how wet you’ve already gotten and he’s been here less than a minute.

“How long until your date comes?”

You glance at your watch and bite your lip.

“…fifteen minutes.”

He smirks and begins to toy with your clit; his thumb rubbing the most excruciating of teasing circles against it and you lean back against his chest almost forgetting how to breathe as he confirms that all he’ll need is ten. Dropping to his knees, Mattheo spins you around, requesting that for now you keep the towel on as he presses the softest of kisses up the inside of your thighs. He needs this. He needs you. You need this and fuck – he’s going to ensure he makes you feel good. So good that you’ll question if that date tonight will be even worth it.

You whimper as his tongue slides between your folds and he groans out a greeting of hi to your pussy like he’s missed an old friend. You rest a hand on his shoulder, the other on the vanity unit to keep yourself upright and he wraps one arm around your waist, the other around the top of your thigh promising silently to keep you steady tonight. His teeth nip gently, nose brushing against your clip, lips working their magic as you get wetter and wetter and fuck… he slips in two fingers without warning which cause you back to curve, head to tilt, hand resting on his shoulder creeping up to knot within his curls and keep Mattheo exactly where you need him.

“You taste so fucking delicious...”

God, you hope that’s true.

“My princess with the perfect pussy…”

His compliments were never good.

“I’ve been good – I promise. Cum for me?”

Since when has Mattheo ever been ‘good’.

Tongue and fingers working together, your mind is in a frenzy; Mattheo has totally lost his from the noises that are leaking from your lips as quick as your wetness is coating his chin and before you know it; the towel you’ve had wrapped around you falls to the floor and the sight before him is too good to be fucking true. You in all your glory. Fuck, he suddenly needs more than you’re currently giving him. Not yet though – he can be good. He thinks. He just fucking admitted it. He watches you – can see your eyelashes fluttering, feel your walls clenching around his fingers, hear your ragged breathing and that’s when he backs off. Just enough to know that you’ll tug him in by his messy locks and moan out, “Fuck – Mattheo, d-d-don’t.. don’t fucking stop.” And that’s how he knows he has you. He’s won you back. You’re his. You aren’t going on a date tonight. Hell no. This preparation, this foreplay, this ‘getting all dolled up’ for some fucking jerk he doesn’t know but is jealous of – it’s all his.

“Be a good girl…”

He spanks the side of your thigh and your hips buckle toward him, far enough away from the vanity that he’s able to drop the hand that’s firmly around your waist down to your ass to squeeze as his teeth graze over your clit and you cum on his tongue; a waterfall of slick juice trickling down your legs which he laps up with pleasure licking your skin clean. Your mind is blank. Your skin is warm. You look down at him and he’s wearing a shit eating smirk of victory that you can’t ignore.

“Gimme a minute…”

You struggle to find your phone – knock over some toiletries off the counter as you struggle to text your date for a ‘rain check’ and just know, that a dinner date with anyone else any time soon is a fucking no.

[ceeaann]

Opposite Attract !? — Being the Total Opposite of Them

Characters - Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Sevika, Viktor, Jayce, and Silco Content - 2k words, hcs, contrasting personality pairings, light angst, possessiveness & protectiveness, established & developing relationships, tender moments, playful banter, mutual (and one-sided) yearning, conflicting morals & values, opposites-attract themes, soft/domestic interactions, power struggles, emotional vulnerability, implied past trauma, affectionate teasing, mild language.

A/N - hi im back haha... this one is a rlly short one cuz im writing smth amazing right now huehue (its sooo good trust ill be posting it in a few days)

— Vi

-You met Vi by accident—wrong place, wrong time, and before you even realized what was happening, she had already handled it.

-"You wouldn’t last a damn second down here, sweetheart."

-At first, she thought you were just another fragile little thing that needed protecting. And at first, you thought she was dangerous.

-(You were right. But not to you.)

-Vi teases you constantly.

-"You’re just so soft, babe. It’s unreal."

-"You say that like it’s a bad thing."

-She grins. "Nah. I like it."

-You try to keep her out of trouble. It never works.

-"Vi, maybe we should think this through."

-"Uh-huh. Lemme know how that goes while I punch this guy."

-"VI—"

-Dating Vi is terrifying.

-"Hey, babe, funny story—I may have started a bar fight." "Vi." "Before you say anything, I won."

-She lives to fluster you.

-"You always get so shy when I call you babe. S’cute." "I—I do not!"

-Vi leans in. "Oh yeah? So if I called you sweetheart right now, you wouldn’t get all shy on me?"

-"...Shut up."

-"That’s what I thought."

-You’ve seen her throw herself into fights for you without a second thought.

-"Vi, stop, you’re bleeding!"

-"They started it."

-"That doesn’t mean you have to finish it!"

-She smirks, wiping blood from her lip. "Sweetheart, that’s exactly what it means."

-But then, one time, you actually hit someone.

-Vi had the guy handled—had him cornered, already mid-swing—until he lunged at you.

-And you punched him.

-The guy went down.

-You stood there, wide-eyed, clutching your fist like you couldn’t believe what you’d just done.

-Vi just stared.

-Then, slowly, she grinned.

-"Well, damn, babe."

-"I—"

-She grabbed your wrist, turning it over to check for damage.

-"You throw a punch like that again, and I might just marry you."

-You turned scarlet.

-Vi never let you live it down.

-"Hey, babe, remember that time you punched a guy?"

-"Vi, stop."

-"Nah, seriously, you were terrifying. I was quaking."

-"I am never doing that again."

-She grinned. "Yeah, yeah. Talk to me after your second punch."

-You keep her grounded. She keeps you wild.

-Balance.

— Caitlyn

-Caitlyn despises rule-breakers. So naturally, she fell in love with you.

-You flirted while she was cuffing you, calling her “Officer Cutie.” She pretended not to care, but her ears were so red.

-You broke out of jail just to see her again.

-"You're breaking the law."

-"You're breaking my heart."

-You treat laws like suggestions. Caitlyn treats them like the word of God.

-"No, you cannot bribe an officer, that’s illegal."

-"Then why do they take the money?"

-"YOU’RE MISSING THE POINT."

-Caitlyn has arrested you multiple times, but at this point, it’s just flirting.

-"Back again, officer?"

-"Maybe if you stopped committing crimes, I wouldn’t have to keep arresting you."

-She gets so flustered when you flirt with her.

-"I swear, you’ll be the death of me."

-"Aw, Cait, don’t be dramatic. You’d look so good in mourning black, though."

-You show up at crime scenes just to mess with her.

-"Fancy meeting you here, Sheriff."

-"WHY are you here?"

-"Moral support. Also, I may or may not have stolen some evidence. Oops."

-First kiss? During a heated argument about morality. You kissed her just to shut her up, and she froze.

-“You—you can’t just do that!”

-“Why not? Worked, didn’t it?”

-Caitlyn is constantly exasperated with you, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

-She scolds you like a mother but spoils you like a lover.

-“One day, you’re going to get yourself killed.”

-“Yeah? But at least I’ll look hot doing it.”

-She has never sighed so much in her life.

-You love making her break the rules. One time, you convinced her to steal a single piece of candy from a store.

-She acted like she personally had doomed Piltover.

-"I CAN NEVER SHOW MY FACE HERE AGAIN."

-"Cait, it was literally a mint."

-"A stolen mint."

-She once caught you doing something very illegal and instead of arresting you, she sighed and went, "Just… don’t do it again."

-That’s when you knew she was doomed.

— Jinx

-You the embodiment of "calm down."

-Jinx the embodiment of "I will not calm down."

-The moment Jinx met you, she immediately decided you were her favorite person.

-You did not agree.

-"So, you’re all serious and broody, huh? Like, all ‘I have a tragic backstory, don’t talk to me’?"

-"No, I just don’t enjoy explosions."

-"Pfft, sounds like a tragic backstory to me."

-Jinx tests your patience daily.

-She steals your things just so you’ll chase her.

-"Jinx, give me back my book."

-"Make me, serious-face."

-You tackle her.

-You are the ONLY person who can calm her down.

-You’re incredibly patient with her. No matter how chaotic she gets, you never push her away.

-That scares her. She’s used to people getting tired of her. But you never do.

-The first time she has a breakdown in front of you, she expects you to leave.

-Instead, you just wrap your arms around her and hold her. No words, no judgment.

-Jinx never admits it, but that’s the moment she realized she’s completely in love with you.

-You always pull her out of danger, even when she insists she doesn’t need help.

"Baaabe, I totally had it handled." "Jinx, you were literally on fire." "Okay, but—" "No."

-Jinx is determined to break through your stoic exterior.

-“C’mooon, just smile for me once, yeah? Bet you’d be real pretty when you do.”

-The first time you genuinely laughed at her joke, she melted.

-She was obsessed with making you laugh after that.

-First kiss? She literally caught you off guard mid-sentence and ran away laughing.

-“You should see your face, babe! Priceless.”

-You are the definition of opposites attract.

-You keep her sane, and she keeps you... un-boring.

— Sevika

-Sevika thought you were too soft for the world she lived in.

-“People like you? They don’t last long down here.”

-“Then I guess you’ll just have to protect me.”

-You weren’t scared of her. That pissed her off.

-But she couldn’t ignore the way you made her feel—like maybe, just maybe, not everything in the world was awful.

-You tended to her wounds without question, never expecting anything in return. That scared her more than anything.

-"I can do it myself."

-"Yeah, well, you weren’t, so sit still."

-Sevika would kill for you.

-You’re the only person she’s soft with, and everyone notices.

-“She’s different when she’s with you.”

-“Nah, she’s just scary in public.”

-You make her believe in something more than survival.

-And damn it, she loves you for that.

-If anyone even breathes wrong near you, Sevika is already cracking her knuckles.

-You're basically her emotional support human, and she has no idea how she ended up this soft.

— Viktor

-Viktor never thought he had time for love. He had science. That was all that mattered.

-And then you came along.

-At first, he brushes off your romantic nature as a distraction.

-But then he catches himself listening to you.

-You talk about dreams, about passion, about things beyond logic, and—damn it—he likes it.

"You’re ridiculous," he murmurs, watching you twirl around his lab with a dreamy expression. "And yet, you keep me around." "...Yes. A mistake, clearly."

-It’s not a mistake. He’s doomed.

-You force him to take breaks, dragging him away from his work despite his protests.

"Viktor, have you eaten today?" "I consumed knowledge." "That’s not food." "It is intellectually nourishing." "You’re ridiculous."

-You leave little notes on his desk when he’s too busy to talk. "Reminder: You’re brilliant and I love you." "Reminder: You need sleep, you absolute workaholic." "Reminder: I’m kissing you later, whether you like it or not."

-He pretends they’re a nuisance, but he keeps every single one.

-The first time you kiss him, he’s so flustered he forgets how to speak.

-"I—uh—hmm—well—" "Oh my god, Viktor, just kiss me back."

-He does. And once he starts? He doesn’t stop.

-Viktor is completely enchanted by you. He never knew love could feel this… effortless.

-"You’re a distraction," he mutters one night, watching you ramble about constellations.

-"A good one?"

-"The only one."

— Jayce

-Jayce is used to people either admiring him or challenging him outright. He’s not used to you.

-You don’t hang on his every word.

-You don’t take his charm at face value.

-You argue. You push back. You challenge him.

-And damn it, you’re good at it.

-"You know, most people find me charming."

-"Most people have low standards."

-"Wow. Remind me why I keep you around?"

-"Because you love the abuse."

-He swears you’ve made it your life’s mission to challenge every idea he has. And worse? You’re smart. He can’t even dismiss you because you actually make good points.

-"This is the best approach."

-"No, it’s the most convenient approach."

-"Oh, I’m sorry, do you have a breakthrough invention?"

-"No, but I have common sense."

-"...Touché."

-He swears he hates debating with you, but the way his eyes light up every time you challenge him? Yeah. He loves it.

-At some point, your arguments stop being about proving each other wrong and start being about understanding each other.

-You’re not impressed by his title, his status, or the way people look up to him. You’re only impressed when he actually earns it.

-That makes him work for it. Not because he has anything to prove, but because he likes knowing he can meet you at your level.

-Jayce flirts like it’s second nature. With most people, it’s effortless. With you? It’s a goddamn battlefield.

-"Come on, admit it. You like me."

-"I tolerate you."

-"You love me."

-"I love watching you struggle."

-"Same thing."

-He’s never had to work so hard for someone’s attention, and it kills him. But the first time you actually soften toward him? It’s over for him. Completely.

-He’s never wanted something so badly in his life. And it’s not just because of the chase. It’s because you make him better.

-You don’t just challenge his ego—you challenge his ideals. You make him think. You make him question things he’s taken for granted.

-And despite all the teasing, all the stubborn back-and-forth, all the arguments? He’s never felt more alive than when he’s with you.

-The first time he kisses you, it’s because you’ve finally pushed him past his breaking point.

-"You’re so—"

-"I swear, Jayce, if you—"

-And then he’s kissing you. Hard.

[kikiwie]

call me back? 𖦹 ˚.

————————— 𐔌⋆🍊 ̟ ˚ !! 𐦯 —————————

in which you get in a heated fight with the haikyuu boys, and it takes longer to reconcile than usual.

you didn't need to see his message appear on your screen. especially not after waking up.

after going days without speaking and feeling better, you were able to stop thinking about him so much. but now that he was reaching out, you felt as though all of your effort was gone.

he mentioned something along the lines of wanting to meet up and talk. you really couldn't look at it for too long or you might lose what little sanity you had.

this was the worst fight you’ve had in your relationship, and you didn’t know what to do. you knew you couldn’t be mad forever, but some things said did hurt, and you could admit you said things you shouldn’t have too.

you screamed into your pillow, and you didn’t know if it was from dread or something else you didn’t want to recognize. that you missed him more than you wanted to.

immediately you grabbed your phone and texted the group chat to ask if you should text him back fast or wait because you were not sane enough to handle this situation.

you, of course, ended up giving in after 2 minutes, which you didn’t even finish asking your friends. even if you tried not to give in, you knew you loved him too much for that.

(he would’ve seen you or sent a text earlier, but he didn’t know if you were still mad. he was tweaking because you were non verbal.)

suna, osamu, sakusa, kenma, tsukishima & kageyama.

the last thing you expected to happen today was to see him standing in front of your door. you felt horrible for him because he was so wet from the rain, but you were hesitant.

"what brings you here?" despite your best efforts to appear cold, your eyes betrayed you as you glanced at him. "not even going to invite me in?" when you glared at him, his attempt at a smile turned wary.

"i didn't ask you to come here.” he didn't like it when you crossed your arms. you felt so distant.

"i just had to see you. to talk. i really miss you, and i wasn't expecting for the fight to go to this.” with a sigh, you decided that it would be best to have that discussion inside.

he entered when you stepped aside. "come, i’ll get you some dry clothes and a towel." he agreed, and he followed you to your room to get one of the hundreds of sweatshirts and shirts he stored in your dresser.

shortly after, he changed and came back with the towel in his hair. he gave you a hug when your back was to him. “i’m really, really sorry. i promise i’ll do anything to make this better..” he kept rambling, and you knew you couldn’t be mad forever.

kuroo, iwaizumi, terushima, daisho, akaashi & semi.

he tried to be nonchalant about the whole situation. like it didn’t bother him at all. (he in fact did care. just in denial) that was until he realized it wasn’t one of those times where you’d fight and after a few hours you would talk it out after you’ve both cooled off.

nope, he was going insane. he tried calling you and texting you, but you weren’t answering. it was really messing with him and with his performance in whatever he was up to.

he’d stalk your socials sometimes to see if you were up to anything, but you weren’t giving him anything to stalk. now he was just getting worried. usually you would repost on tiktok or post on your spam, but nothing. just radio silence.

that was until a miracle happened. your mutual friends had decided on a night out and invited you both. that was his chance.

when he saw you, he tried not to run to you and shower you with kisses like he usually did. but at this point he was getting desperate.

being the hopeless man he is, he had to talk to you. to fix this and never fight with you again and shut up whenever you want him to.

let’s just say he almost got on his knees and begged for forgiveness because he couldn’t last another second without you by his side. (in a way that didn’t seem too desperate, of course.)

atsumu, oikawa, bokuto, tendo, futakuchi & koganegawa

they don’t fight with you. they get told to shut up, and they do. they get told to sit down, and they sit. (they just love you a lot)

tanaka, nishinoya, hinata, lev & yamamoto

————————— 𐔌⋆🍊 ̟ ˚ !! 𐦯 —————————

this was for funsies, might not be too accurate. hope you enjoyed either way. <3

[maskedcrawford]

Not So Secret Relationship

G-Dragon x Reader

Summary: After paparazzi help out your relationship, you and GD choose to announce it yourselves in true G Dragon style.

Warnings: None really

A/N: Thank you anon for being so patient. I hope this is close to what you wanted <3

Requests are OPEN

It all started when you agreed to work with with G-Dragon for his new song and music video. The two of you had chemistry unlike any other, quickly becoming close friends, constantly being seen with each other or leaving one another’s home. It wasn’t long before Jiyong got the courage up to ask you out and you more than readily said yes.

This would lead to the frenzy of pictures and speculation, being form America meant that anytime he was there, the reporters and paparazzi were all over him and you’d be photographed together. Anytime you were in Korea, the same thing happened for you. You were both ecstatic to have thriving careers, but it made keeping your relationship a hard secret to keep. The only thing you could begin to bank on was that neither of you confirmed your relationship.

It's been months and the media continues to speculate about your relationship, much to some fans cheers and dismay. There was growing fanbase for your relationship and then there were fans who wouldn’t believe it. Truth be told it was nice to have something only the two of you could share. Something that, though they may try, the world couldn’t be 100% sure of.

But that all ends one night when you’re out on yet another date, speculation in the media turns to soft launch when a paparazzi gets a picture of Jiyong sweetly kissing your cheek at the end of your date. Not to mention, the pictures of both of you smiling, caressing each other’s hands and fingers being interlocked.

You can’t help but stare at your tv as the gossip show talks about the pictures and shows multiple of the two of you holding hands, pictures that look like you’re joking around, and even one of the two of you getting close at the beach. You sigh as you pick up the ringing phone on your table.

“Have you seen the show?” Jiyong’s voice is calm, not exactly what you expected.

“Yup,” you respond aggravated, “And it’s not just here, Korea’s media is picking up on it too,” you mention with a slight stress headache. You got a text from a mutual friend that morning that the K-media is buzzing once again about the two of you.

“Why don’t we just tell them, y/n?”

“I mean, are you sure you’re ready to give up the big secret?” you ask tentatively. It’s not that you didn’t want to tell anyone, it was that it was so nice keeping it private, or at least, unconfirmed.

“I mean, if I ever want to marry you it’s going to have to come out at some point. Why not now?” You blush at his comment and bite your lip as you smile at the thought of him in a suit.

“Ah, ok,” you sigh.

“But if we’re doing this,” he begins and you can hear in his voice the theatrics are about to be noted, “We’re doing it right. G-Dragon, style.” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“Nice confidence, G-Dragon,” you tease. You can hear his chuckle over the phone.

“I’m flying you out in a week, pack your stuff.”

“How the heck are we doing this?”

“I’ll tell you all that once you get here,” he hangs up the phone before you can protest.

-

You land in Korea that next week, curiosity peeking as you get into the car Jiyong has sent for you. You’re walking up to his apartment door, nervous about the plan and excited to see him.

He practically pulls you inside and you yelp, surprised by the sudden force.

“God I missed you,” he cups your face and leaves multiple little kisses all over it before his lips find yours for a slow, meaningful kiss. He makes a mental note that your lips taste like strawberries.

“I missed you too,” you say against his lips and after a moment he finally lets you go to breathe.

“I swear you’re my oxygen.” He says partly panting.

“Yeah, that’s why you’re panting,” you tease and he rolls his eyes.

“So, what’s this new plan of yours?” You sit on the couch as you watch him pace animatedly around in front of the tv.

“I’m performing at the MAMA awards this weekend, that’s where we’ll do it. You’ll come out with me, we’ll do our song and choreography and we’ll make it all official.” His smile is as wide as his face and you smile at the idea.

“Very G-Dragon of you,” you compliment jokingly and he rolls his eyes playfully with the smile stuck on his face.

“Thank you, jagi,” he takes a dramatic bow. The rest of the week is spent in intense preparation. Once the media caught wind that you were in Korea, the outlets once again were fueling fans theories that the two of you are together. Pictures of you two out to get frozen yogurt and walking to and from practices, as well as the two of you going back to his penthouse.

-

The day of the performance arrives and the place is buzzing. You go through the song and routine a few times, nailing it each time.

“This is going to be so good,” he smiles at you as you land in his arms for the final move. He pecks your lips and you smile, nerves taking over slightly as the time for the show gets closer.

-

Before you know it, the time comes and your both out on stage, singing and dancing with the crowd going wild. Each move is precise, exactly how you practiced it. By the end of the song, you’re in your final pose and both of you have your chests heaving.

He quirks a brow at you and you bite your bottom lip with a smile as you both lean in, sweaty lips connecting in front of the whole crowd. The arena goes into a frenzy, phone cameras are up, fans are freaking out and your heartrate is sky high. You pull back from one another, looking into each other’s eyes and you look at the crowd smiling with a little giggle. Jiyong’s forehead rests against the side of your head as he hugs you closer to him, the lights catching every single miniscule movement. You blow a kiss to the crowd and walk off hand in hand with your boyfriend.

-

The next morning your social media is blowing up from notifications. You giggle as you show Jiyong the edits and tons of gossip pages freaking out at the confirmed relationship of you two. Jiyong picks up his own phone and quickly uploads a pic to Instagram.

“Now I can post you whenever I want,” he says cockily as he kisses your cheek.

You roll over catching a glimpse in the mirror and decide that if he can do it, so can you.

Maybe confirming your relationship was the best idea.

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Comment if you'd like to be tagged in future fics!

Tags:@loveesiren @topluvr @breakmeoff

Masterlist

[greensagephase]

Sweet Hibi, I didn't miss your lovely thoughts! 💕 I've been meaning to get to you and Lara, but I've been busy these past few days with a lot and not feeling well (headaches and seasonal allergies), but I literally had planned to get on Tumblr today to reply to you and then, here's your reblog, haha! Perfect timing!

Hibi, thank you so much for sharing so much of your thoughts! I’m literally over the moon with how so many of you lovely readers shared your thoughts for this chapter (I’m literally screaming)!!🥹

★ Ummm…. This is a great question, but I won’t be answering it because… No spoilers! Keep your eyes open, though. 🙂

★ Miguel getting all flustered about us calling him cute, hehe! He’s such a cutie! I love how his brain short circuited XD

★ Hibi, me, too! I don’t know how to ice skate. 😭 I used to roller skate when I was a kid, but stopped eventually and lost the skill, so I wouldn’t even have that experience anymore. It does sound very fun, though, and it would be wonderful to try with someone as patient as Miguel and with his guidance 🥺 I mean, he was so sweet, he even helped us put on our skating shoes (HE’S SUCH A GENTLEMAN). And haha, YES, MARRIAGE LEVEL! 🤭💖

★ Haha, the amount of mistletoe in this chapter and the teasing of a potential kiss, which ends in that cute fingertip kiss! I loved that little detail. 🥺 Thought it would be fitting and sweet to have them ‘kiss’ like that since that’s how they hug! 🥹

★ Omg, no, for real! Miguel trying to squeeze on the couch is a nope 💀

★ Miguel is truly so touch starved 🥺🥺🥺 but no worries, he won’t be like that forever :’)

★ The accidental cuddles — my heart!! That was one of my favorite moments in this chapter!! The way they sought each other, aughhh!!😭😭

★ OMG SJDKFJDKF THE FREAKING FLY AND NEWSPAPER EMOJIS FOR BEN SENT ME, HELP 😭😭😭😭😭 Why did I just imagine Miguel swatting Ben away with a newspaper for real? But honestly, that would be Miguel if he could. He’d shoo Ben away, haha! 💀

★ The uncle Miggle and Aunt Dulz - I forgot about that, but it’s so cute of Mayday 🥺 Also, yes :’) Gabby is her little friend! I thought it’d be sweet to include her and have her be Mayday’s little friend!

★ Peter truly ruined the almost kiss! When we catch him, I swear, when we catch him!

★ YESSS, CANON WARM MIGUEL! You bet this is going to come back again in the future :))

★ Lol Miguel really was like that meme of the lady with the equations going across the screen with the whole Ben situation. He was doing the work trying to figure things out. Seems like things are ok… For now. ��

★ Miguel getting butterflies… You just know what that means! 👀👀

★ Our Queen Lyla playing matchmaker (along with Mayday), hehe! She wants us and Miguel to be together already!

★ The matching bracelets!! One of my favorite parts because the little knot is the Celtic lover’s knot! It symbolizes their love and bond💖

★ Yess, the butterflies show up again because of the symbolism of rebirth for them, both individually and together💕

★ YES, MIGUEL IS READY TO HUG AND IT’S NOT A DRILL!! 🗣🗣

★ It’s truly so crazy that another Christmas went by and I was still writing NC. I genuinely find it so shocking because as I’ve said, my initial plans were for this fic to be about 4 chapters long back in 2023, and now it’s 2025 and there’s 18 chapters more than I thought and more to come! Awww, Hibi, thank you for mentioning that! I definitely have woven myself into this fic and because of that, it’s going to be so, so, so bittersweet when it’s over, but I’m also going to be so proud that it’s completed. Thank you for being part of the journey, my friend!🥺

★ Haha, M and D are totally so normal about each other! So normal! 🤭But me, too, Hibi! I know I’m the writer lol, but I do love how much respect they have for each other. They’re also so understanding and caring for each other, just thinking about it makes me want to cry lol!😭 Also, Miguel’s thoughts at the end… I needed a moment, but I felt so proud of him for finally reaching this point. It’s been such a journey as the writer to see his progress, so fulfilling. 🥹 And yes, he does have it bad! I’m so ready for him to realize he’s not normal about Dulzura, ehehe!

★ Aww, don’t worry about yapping, pookie! You know I yap way much, so yapping is welcomed in this home, but thank you so much for the lovely wishes. I’m so freaking late to replying, but I wish you and your loved ones the same!!🥹🥹🥰💖💖

Alondra❤️

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? 😌

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@1800-get-alife

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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💀😭

[rebelfell]

They're baaaaaaaaack… (she said, as though they ever leave her brain) 18+, MDNI 3.2k

older!fem!Harrington!reader x eddie munson

cw: a little angst to keep happily ever after interesting

continued from here, index here

Eddie sort of hates these faculty parties.

He likes the ones you throw. At the house, with the professors from your department you actually like. Everyone sits on the patio looking out at the garden, all of them ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the dreamy space Eddie has painstakingly curated—the ivy that climbs the fence; the plentiful plants and flowers that attract bees and butterflies; the willow tree that shades the hammock; the stone pavers leading to it from the patio and fire pit.

Honestly, your backyard is his masterpiece.

You light the tiki torches to keep the bugs at bay and the string lights flicker on when it gets dark. Music trickles outside through the speakers you pushed up to the open window and Eddie pokes his head out when he comes home from work, waving at your guests who titter excitedly.

It’s mostly older women, lots of heads of pure silver and white. Thick-framed glasses on beaded chains; velvet shawls with long fringe that drape off their shoulders; funky patterned skirts that swish around their legs; enamel bangles that clack together when they talk with their hands.

He comes back out once he’s showered and changed his clothes, bringing with him a new bottle of wine to replace the one you’ve already finished. He refills all their glasses and you crane your neck back for a kiss when he gets around to you. Both of you smile into it as the ladies start clucking and squawking excitedly, galvanized like a gaggle of middle schoolers.

Eddie knows they like to tease you about him, calling him your ‘boy-toy.’

Not so secretly, he loves it.

It was always casual and relaxed. They’d insist Eddie join them and everyone would chatter with ease into the evening. And by the time they found the bottom of that second bottle and the record you put on had ended, at least one of them would catch Eddie’s eye and mime playing guitar until he went inside to fetch his old acoustic and serenade the group with old standards.

Then, after they all went home, you tumbled into bed so blissfully tipsy you’d just kiss and kiss and kiss until you were so tired you nearly fell asleep still wearing your clothes on top of the covers.

Those nights he liked. Not like these.

These mixer things weren’t explicitly mandatory, but it was deeply frowned upon for you to miss them. They didn’t happen all that often, usually spaced out just far enough that Eddie had time to forget what a pain in his ass they were. And it wasn’t like you made him go, he just didn’t like to relinquish a night with you so easily. So 9 times out of 10, he opted in of his own accord.

All the departments came together in a big hall that was somehow drafty and stuffy all at once, and it only got stuffier the longer some of these blowhards prattled on about nothing.

And no one said a single word to Eddie all night.

It reminded him of those rarified times that he’d stumbled into a pep rally, either purelyby accident or because of an admittedly ill-advised crush on a certain cheerleader. Even without doing much of anything, without saying a word, they all looked down their noses like he just didn’t belong.

Nobody recognized him outside of his coveralls, headphones, and aviators. In his sport coat and glasses with his hair hanging loose around his shoulders, he felt a little like Clark Kent. And he tried to act like he was supposed to be there, but it was near impossible without you by his side.

You had been, at the start of the evening. But everyone seemed to want a piece of you tonight... None more so than professor Dickus Maximus.

He was a classics professor, specializing in Ancient Rome. He had a strong, square jaw dusted with greying scruff and a head of tousled, swoopy curls—dark and streaked intermittently with wisps of white. His upper lip was topped by a dense mustache that only made his stupid Disney prince smile all the more roguish and disarming.

Eddie had only interacted with him once, but it was enough to seal his disdain.

The days he worked on campus, he always took his lunch break during your office hours so he could eat with you while you worked. Your office was small, but it had a big window that let in lots of light in the afternoon. Once he’d wolfed down whatever food he brought, Eddie stretched out on your loveseat and more often than not took a little nap in the sun like an overgrown cat.

He’d just started to kick his feet up when there was a knock at the door and whoever was on the other side had started to push it open before you even told them to come in.

Eddie jumped up, feeling his cheeks beginning to flush with heat. But you’d hardly looked up from the papers strewn across your desk before you were smiling at the guy standing in your office.

You greeted him with more familiarity than Eddie had seen you use with some other colleagues, a warmth in your smile and voice he couldn’t help but notice. It made his shoulders stiffen as he straightened his back and his stance widened, trying to take up more space in the room.

You noticed, but gave it no acknowledgement beyond a brief wrinkling of your brow.

“Marc, this is Eddie, my b—”

“Ah, yes. The new groundskeeper, right? I’ve seen you around. Marc Acacius, nice to meet you.”

Extending a large hand, Marc took his eyes off you for the first time since he came into the room. “Yeah,” Eddie answered, his voice as tight as his grip when they shook, “that’s me.”

With a quick smile, he dropped Eddie’s hand and his gaze swept right back to you. “Just checking if you’re coming tonight. Ramsey wants a head count, he’s convinced we need more food.”

“I’ll be there,” you nodded, “but I’m not eating if he’s pushing his daughter’s catering again.”

Marc let out a deep and hearty laugh at that, tipping back and putting his whole body into it, even though it barely constituted a joke. When he straightened, his eyes cut to the side once more.

“Just an informal little get-together,” he explained, shooting a sardonic smile in Eddie’s direction. “They’re exceedingly dull, but we try to make the most of them,” he added, eyes twinkling when they landed back on you in a way that made Eddie’s blood bubble in his veins.

“I’ll see you later, then,” you told Marc, smile shrinking when you saw the look on Eddie’s face.

That big, stupid hand of his raised once again in a broad wave as he turned to go, only to stop and look back over at Eddie, snapping his fingers.

“You know, there’s some shrubberies over by our building that need some cleaning up,” he said. “Think we could get that taken care of, chief?”

The way he asked wasn’t overtly condescending. It practically passed for congenial. But it made Eddie feel like his coveralls were full of fire ants. His neck burned hot with scorn and he could feel his chest puffing up as he crossed his arms in front of it and glared back at him.

“Sure,” he answered sharply, teeth grinding behind the word. “On it.”

Marc just smirked and tossed you another wave before disappearing down the hall. Eddie kicked the door closed behind him, wishing he could have slammed it.

“What a tool,” he groused.

“He can be,” you agreed. “I guess teaching about narcissistic, bloodthirsty Roman emperors driven insane by syphilis makes him look a lot better.”

Your attempt at joking fell flat, the words coming out too tight as you stood from your desk chair. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, a long pause making the hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck stand up and blood rush in his ears.

“But, uhh…just in the interest of full disclosure… we kind of had a thing.”

“A th—” Eddie sputtered as he whipped his head back around,  “What kind of thing?”

You shrugged, staring down at the papers on your desk as you started to shuffle them together.

“We used to go for drinks after work. Sometimes it lead to more, but it wasn’t anything serious.”

“So you’ve…you guys have…”

Eddie didn’t need to finish asking before the look on your face gave him his answer. 

“Well…yeah. But again, it wasn’t—”

“Was he good?” Eddie snapped. Was he better than me? his brain feels like screaming.

You paused at your filing cabinet, the folder in your hand hovering above its space in the drawer.

“Is that really what you want to ask?” you replied.

Eddie’s jaw ticked, but he inhaled the deepest breath he could manage through flaring nostrils. “No,” he finally answered. Still stilted, but a little more calm now. “I just don’t…why him?”

Just asking made his skin feel itchy. That guy was such the total opposite of everything Eddie thought you would be interested in. He was so self-involved and self-important—so much so that it edged into being pompous. Smarmy, even. He looked like he wore tweed those jackets with patches on the elbows, and he smelled like the cologne samples Eddie used to rip out of Wayne’s old man magazines—stuff like sandalwood and frankincense and other shit from the bible.

But then maybe Eddie didn’t want to see all of the things you had in common. Same profession, more than likely similar interests. Similar incomes. Similar levels of intelligence. And while he was older than you, your ages were a hell of a lot closer than yours and Eddie’s were.

He was nothing like Eddie…or maybe Eddie was nothing like him.

You sighed a little sadly as you came around your desk. You didn’t reach for him, sitting against the edge instead so he had the space to come to you if he wanted to. And he did, but not yet.

“Does it matter?” you asked. “Weren’t you with other people while we were…you know.”

Eddie didn’t answer. He could only look at his boots guiltily. Neither of you liked to think about that awful gap in your story; that time when you didn’t know what he was doing or spending his time. When he didn't know whether you were thinking of him, or if he vacated your mind.

He hated it, honestly.

This was so not how he saw this afternoon going. He had spent most of his day looking forward to seeing you, distracting himself from the drudgery of spreading sod by thinking about that tight little pencil skirt you laid out last night to wear to work today. He’d pictured himself bunching it around your hips after he sat you on your desk and hauled your ass right up to the edge.

Wondering if he got you worked up enough you’d be willing to blow off the rest of your classes.

He was only just now seeing you in it fully and it was doing things to his brain, even mid-spiral. But now he couldn’t help but let the image of Marc’s stupid handsome face leak into his fantasy.

Fuck, what if you’d hooked up with him in your office? What if your little loveseat earned its name from him bending you over it? What if he’d gotten on his knees for you and made you cum all over your own desk? What if Eddie had tried it and all you could do was think of him?

You cleared your throat, surprising Eddie when you held out your hand for him to take. His arm felt like lead, but he still lifted it and let you curl your fingers around his, giving a gentle tug.

“I think maybe we should talk about this later? After you’ve had a minute?”

Eddie was still sulking, but he nodded as he moved closer. “Yeah,” he said. “That’d be good.”

That fight was ages ago. About as ancient as the stuff on Marc’s syllabus.

You’d blown off the party entirely and met Eddie back at his apartment instead. He was calmer by then, especially after taking a machete to those shrubberies and pretending they were Marc’s face. And he got your reasoning that you didn’t intend for him to find out like that, you just didn’t want to lie or hide anything from him. Ever.

Which he had to admit was nice to hear.

But not as nice as hearing that it literally meant nothing to you. That the only reason you even entertained the idea was because you knew implicitly it would never turn into more.

And then you’d made up by letting him finally see you in that pencil skirt and nothing else.

Still, ancient as it was, Eddie couldn’t help but feel like he’d been plopped right back into that day, right back into those same feelings just seeing the two of you standing together.

He closes his fist around the napkin in his hand, smashing the dry and flavorless cookie he’d been nibbling on the past hour, and flung it in the trash on his way over to you. Your eyes meet his as he swoops in, smoothing his hand up your back to rest just below the nape of your neck.

Subtle enough that it’s not tacky, but still obvious enough to be sure Marc sees.

“Getting kind of late,” Eddie hums from behind you, not even looking at the man he’s interrupted. Your glossed lips spread in a shiny smile, easily reading the level stare he’s giving you.

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” you nod.

You drain the last swallow of wine from the tiny plastic cup in your hand and place it down on the emptied refreshments table, barely waving goodbye to Marc as Eddie pulls you away. He slides his hand down your spine until it settles at the small of your back and he guides you forward, glaring over his shoulder back at Marc one final time just to make sure that he’s watching.

Their eyes meet and Eddie seethes.

That’s right, motherfucker, he thinks. Mine.

Campus is eerily quiet, your footsteps on the sidewalk echoing as you pass under the lights lining the path. The air has a chill bite that does little to temper the burn rising in Eddie’s cheeks.

“Thanks for saving me,” you coo as you’re making your way to the staff parking lot. “I would have been bored to tears if you hadn’t come.”

“Doubt it,” Eddie mutters under his breath before he can stop himself.

“What do you mean?” you ask, a little sadly.

He just shrugs, his shoulders bristling as he shoves his fists deep in his jacket pockets. It’s brown suede, lighter and thinner than his leather jacket. He loves it because you bought it for him, but he almost wishes he was in the other one.

It felt weightier, more impenetrable.

More like armor.

“Nothing,” Eddie grumbles. “I just don’t get why he has to be all over you like that.”

Without realizing it, his feet start to speed up, like he’s trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and this night, and you find yourself trailing behind as you ask, “Who?”

“Fuckin’ Marc,” Eddie sneers.

He doesn’t recognize the voice coming out of him, all snippy and pissy. That’s not how he talks to you. It’s not how he ever wants to talk to you. So why the fuck is that what he’s doing?

“Hey,” you say, taking his elbow and pulling on it so he’s back in step with you. His fists squeeze tighter inside of his pockets, but his gait slows. “What’s going on here? Are you really mad?”

Yes, Eddie thought bitterly.

“No,” he replies with a frown.

A puff of air pushes out through your nose in a snort. “Oh, well, that was convincing.”

In spite of himself, Eddie can’t help the corner of his mouth twitching up into a tiny smile. You slip your hand through his arm, fingers curling around his bicep to stop him and turn him towards you.

“M’sorry,” he mutters, looking at his feet. “I know you said it didn’t mean anything, I just…”

Eddie exhales sharply, the sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. Finally, he looks up to find himself staring into your eyes. They’re trained on his face, patient and waiting.

“I fucking hate him. I hate seeing you with him, I hate thinking about you with him—I hate him.”

“Oh, Eddie…”

He’d heard his name sighed in exasperation a lot. Teachers sick of homework turned in smudged and torn, even if all the work was correct. His friends when he made a big bad too challenging, keeping them from moving on in the campaign. Wayne finding the ashtray overflowing with butts after he had reminded Eddie to empty it. Girls—cheerleaders—when he asked if he could take them out on a real date instead of subsisting on shadowy, clandestine hook-ups inside his van.

But that’s not the way you say it.

There’s too much fondness in your voice, too much care for him in your soft eyes, your touch too gentle as you reach out a hand to cradle his jaw. He flinches microscopically at your touch. Burning cheek numbed by the wind getting warmed back up by the heart of your palm.

He doesn’t realize until you touch him that he was shaking. Shivering, either from the cold or from the rush of adrenaline he got from finally getting to say how much he despised that guy.

Except now that he’s said it out loud…he doesn’t think this has anything to do with Marc after all.

He inhales slowly and lets out a big breath. Your thumb strokes his stubble, your eyes drawn to the miniscule number of grays that shine silver under the street light as you’re brushing them.

“I don’t mind that you were with him,” he admits at last. “But I hate that you weren’t with me.”

Eyes shining with the beginning of tears, he looks into yours and finds them in the same state. You blink furiously fast, trying to clear them and clamber to throw your arms around him.

Wrapped tight around his neck, hugging him as close as you can so you can whisper in his ear,

“I hate that I wasn’t with you, too.”

The two of you stand there for a long moment, curled around one another’s bodies as you sway gently. Eddie imagines the song you’re dancing to in his head; one you introduced him to and loved to put on whenever he was having a bad day, or just feeling a little combative.

It grounds him. Brings him back to the thing that matters, the only one that does. You and him.

And you tell him the same thing you’d told him the night of that fight. In the same solid, affirming tone that silenced all the unkind thoughts about himself flying around inside Eddie’s head.

“He’s not you,” you whisper, giving him another tight squeeze. “Not even close.”

prev┃

I wanted to keep the song referenced vague, but this is what I hear when I think of them. Not at all influenced by severance taking over my brain permanently, nope, nuh-uh, neeeeever

@cryingglightningg @saramelaniemoon @tlclick73 @winchester-angel @nope-thanks

@bastardstevie @skyfullofsong123 @mmmunson @woahnotmecryingoverafanfiction @micheledawn1975

@alastorssimp @itsrainingbisexualfrogs @maskofmirrors @darknesseddiem @comeonatmebruh

@aurora-austen @mrsjellymunson @yujyujj @ilovetaquitossmmmm @cranberry-moth

[malsmind]

𝘰𝘩𝘩 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵

the moment matt steps through the door, you practically throw yourself at him. it’s been a week—seven long days without his touch, without his warmth, without him. between filming with his brothers and preparing for the tour, he’s been too busy to come over, and you’ve felt every agonizing second of his absence.

now, though, he’s here. and you can’t keep your hands off him.

his arms wrap around you instantly, pulling you against his firm chest. his scent—warm, familiar, utterly him—makes your head spin.

“missed me, baby?” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement as his fingers slide down your spine.

you nod frantically, your hands clutching at the fabric of his hoodie, desperate to pull him closer. “so much,” you breathe, pressing your face against his neck.

matt chuckles, and the sound is low, knowing. he tilts your chin up, his thumb brushing over your lips before dipping inside just enough to make your knees buckle.

“sure you missed me and not just my fingers?” he tilts his head, his voice laced with a teasing fondness that makes your stomach tighten. his fingers trail lower, skimming over your skin with an agonizing slowness, until he’s exactly where you need him.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

the first touch is enough to have you whimpering, hips jerking into his hand. your body is so eager, so needy for him, and matt knows it. he watches you with that small smirk, his eyes dark and full of something possessive as his fingers lazily circling your clit.

“poor thing,” he murmurs, pressing kisses along your jaw, his fingers working you open so easily. “so needy, hm?”

you nod helplessly, breath hitching as his fingers slip inside. he groans at the way you react, drinking in every little sound that spills from your lips.

“thaaat's a good girl.” he whispers, his voice like honey, smooth and thick. “always so wet f'me.”

matt’s fingers move with a practiced ease, slow and deliberate, teasing you just enough to make you squirm. he watches you with a smirk, his free hand gripping your hip to keep you from writhing too much.

“look at you,” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement. “so desperate… you really can’t go a week without me, huh?”

you whimper in response, your head falling against his chest as pleasure coils in your stomach. his fingers are too good—his touch precise, knowing exactly where to press, where to drag, where to curl. you can barely form words, your body betraying just how much you need this, how much you need him.

“please,” you whisper, your voice shaky.

matt chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “ohh i know, sweetheart.”

his thumb brushes over your clit, and your whole body jerks. a wicked grin spreads across his lips as he watches you struggle to keep it together.

“oh, baby,” he coos, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “you just can’t help it, can you?”

you shake your head frantically, gripping onto him for support. his fingers move faster, pushing you closer and closer to the edge, and he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“that’s it, sweetheart,” he murmurs, lips grazing your ear. “let me take care of you. let me give you what you’ve been missing.”

and with one last precise movement, he does exactly that.

@emely9274 @impossiblecollectorcat @staargazr @sllutty-sturniolo @shadowthesim237 @sturns-mermaid @courta13 @grace-sturnz @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @ncm9696 @rcklessheavn @sophand4n4 @amyiasturnl @ivysturnss @loser41ifee @helpimateenagerinlove @joanakaulitz @colorthecosmos444 @tits4matt @pasteldreams @h3arts4nat @sweetshuga

[vrsin]

~The Embrace Beyond the Veil of Time~

Linked Universe x Reader

Story by @vrsin

Linked Universe by @linkeduniverse

Previous

Fan Art : 1

~~~

✧ 3 ✧

Sky held onto the tiny wooden necklace carving of a four pointed star softly in his hand. It was the first wood carving he made, while on this new quest alongside other heroes which share the same fate as him. The dark blue oak wood carving outlined with gold and a solid gold four pointed star painted in the center, softly glitters as the fire’s light hits it at the right angle. Failing greatly to substitute a companion which he misses dearly. 

He stayed quiet but observant, as he listened to the chatter among the group about the new… riveting dream the Vet has gotten. 

“Are you positive..?”

“For the last time, yes!”

Vet crosses his arms as he and the Old Man have a stare down. None have moved to stop them, frankly none have moved from their spots once arriving back at camp after the Vet went to the lake bed. However Sky couldn’t blame Time for being so…persistent.

You were always a touchy subject….

Sky can remember the tense talks when they all first came together, speaking about their own quest to defeating the great evil of their world, speaking about… the help

Though never being truly honest with each other, he thinks now looking back at it. He believes each knew about the real  help which had yet be spoken about. 

Sky was hesitant to ask if they had met you, if you helped them. Learning their place between time he soon found out he was the first, being the one to forge the Master Sword from what was known as the Goddess Sword. 

He was the first, which means years could have past…centuries 

Fear gripped onto him like a shiver of cold that never went away, always lurking, waiting. Just for the right opportunity to show itself and reveal the dreadful, gruesome fear that he holds deep within his soul and subconscious. Desperately praying to whatever God that may hear him that it will never come.

However, just as the unyielding thought of an unwanted fate happening to you clung to him like frozen fingertips kissed with the shiver of cold known as fear. 

That fear soon melted away by the bright smile of a young sailor, the youngest Hero within the group. 

“Isn't this a good thing?!”

The Chain all looked at the young sailor, a beaming smile on his face. His eyes twinkling with unshed tears of pure happiness. “This is a sign! It has to be!”

Wars crosses his arms as he leans against the tree he sat in front of, “Or a trick…by the shadow.”

Silence fell over the camp. None dared to be opposed to that option. It hasn't been the first time your voice or the mere mention of you. Have driven them to go deeper then they ever had before; in the most dangerous of locations that you would have smacked some sense into them for even thinking about going. To get even a small hint about you, only to come back with nothing. Each, and every time.

The search for you has been hard and long, though none of them ever gave up. If anything, now after meeting each other and learning they were all looking for you. Gave them even more ambition to push forward, because now Link wasn't doing it alone. Now he had help from others, who each are all driven to find you and ensure that you will never be taken against your will again.

Though any hint of you had to be taken into consideration, it also has to be reviewed with caution. You were no secret to his many many enemies he has gained not only in his singular lifetime, but in all lifetimes. 

They, like Link, wont forget about you either. The annoying little bug which always stayed by his side, no matter the life. Never wavered or fled from fear. Always loyal to the hero, always warned him of their attacks. Guided him through the battle to ensure his victory. Made fun of them as Link proceeded to beat the ever loving shit out of them.

Each encounter and battle, they can hear your little high pitched annoying laugh as Link stood over them, victorious.

Oh yes, they can't ignore or forget an unwanted little pest like you.

Always cheering on your hero. Your Link.

 

Though they know how important you are to Link, its a fact documented in archives at this point. 

So it comes to no surprise as they use this to their advantage. As they try to get an upper hand over the hero, try to finally  slaughter him, only to fail at the end. Beaten by an infuriated Link. Pissed  beyond measure by them even merely thinking of using you in any way, shape, or form to trick him. In the very essence disrespecting you. 

This is why Time stands firm and motionless. He is the eldest…in a sense.

He must be the responsible one. The mature one. So he clutches his hands as tight as possible as his arms are crossed on top of his chest. He cannot let any of them see the shaking of pure excitement that is coursing through his body. He can't let his childness, his mischievous side, the blissful and most loving memories he holds with you. Blind him to what tricks this possibly could be.

He needs to be cautious.

He needs to be sure.

This is the first real clue they've had ever 

So he stares down the Vet, Unmoving and unforgiving. "Speak of your dream.”

Vet bites his lip as he clutches his hands into fists on the side of him. His eyes shut so ferociously, he can feel his brows pinching against each other. He takes a shallow breath, going to sit on the log closest to the fire. 

He doesn't want to talk about the dream, in general he never wants to talk about his dreams. Not ever since…

He takes in a deep breath.

He remembers how you would calm him after having a truly awful dream - not a nightmare - but so close to becoming one. The pain and grief he would feel. How he would launch up from bed crying and gripping at his chest as if his heart will  burst from so much pain.

But then, without fail.

You would always be there for him 

“Link, Link it’s okay. Im here, Im here. Breathe Link, that's it, Those dreams can't hurt you, not while I'm here.

It's okay now Link. I'm not leaving you.”

 

You're not here now….

You haven't been for awhile…

Vet’s eyes open as he stares at the burning glow of the fire in front of him. It's alright though, he’ll push past his fear and grief. Because now he will fight his dreams for you, to save you. 

To be with you again.

“...I was on a beach…” 

~~~

The sun was bright and warm on his skin,  the wind blowing in his hair. He can hear the seagulls singing and the waves crashing against the shore. The smell of the salt muting his senses, he's at peace. A deep sigh escapes his lips as he opens his eyes. He stares at the bright blue ocean in front of him, the plush white clouds dancing through the sky. 

Today is a beautiful  day.

A beautiful day on Koholint.

Link stands still, not daring to move, to turn around. To see what is there, and what is not. 

“Here again…always here.”

Link gently rubs his eyes, sighing deeply one last time as he proceeds to turn to the left. He figures if he's here, he can enjoy a walk on a beach. Though he never looks toward the island, keeping his gaze to the sea. 

He hates how real it feels, how alive everything is. To the wind, the sun, the feeling of the sand underneath his bare feet. 

He hates it all, because it lets him know. How alive they felt too. The people of Koholint. 

But…this is a dream, he knows that.

And they…they were a dream too.

“How unfair…” 

Link continues to walk forward, just enjoying the feeling of the warmth and the  rhythm of the waves. The sound of the soft crunch from the sand under his feet and the cool breeze which kisses his cheeks. 

“Ah~ The wind feels so nice here! Don't you agree, Sunny?”

Link smiles at the fond memory, you had always loved traveling with him, but for some reason you loved this island more than the rest of the places you both had been to. Whenever he asks how this lonely island was different from the rest, you would always say the wind paints colors different then anywhere you have ever seen. A watercolor of different shades and songs which blend together to make a wonderful dream. 

This place has brought you so much joy as it did to him, and even after everything he has been through with Koholint and its people. He is just glad you were able to enjoy it, every moment. He smirks and rolls back his shoulders. He remembered walking down the beach just like this with you when you both first arrived, it was calm and serene, nothing but the sound of the seagulls and laughter shared. You told him it reminded you of a song, walking down this sandy path with him. Curious, you gladly sang to him. LIke you have done in his other lives. 

“...How did it go again?”

Link lightly bites his lip, feeling his cheeks heat up. Slight embarrassment creeping up as he opens his mouth to let out a soft, rough singing voice. 

“...I have often walked…down this street before.” 

Link throws his head back with a laugh. He can't believe himself! He doesn't sound nearly as good as you did when singing. Though he pushes his laughter aside with a smile, a slight hop in his step as he keeps singing. Twisting his rings with closed eyes, his voice is low but smooth as he gains his rhythm. You had often sung such unique songs that he had never heard in Hyrule, songs only you knew. There were so many things you taught him,  from songs to stories and dances. The knowledge in which you would use to lift his spirits and make him smile so wide his cheeks would hurt. 

“Does enchantment pour. Out of every door? No, it's just on the street where you live.” 

“And oh~ , the towering feeling~”

He stops.

Doesn’t move.

Doesn't sing.

Your singing… 

It's coming from the island, right beside him. This has to be a mistake, the grief taking him over and making him hear your voice again. It has to be it! He can't stop himself though, turning to look at the island. Though he doesn't see it at all, instead he sees a treeline. Leading into dark oak trees. 

“Just to know, somehow you are near. The overpowering feeling~”

He sees a glow, a golden glow. Deep within the oak but bright enough for him to see. He steps forward to get a closer look. Entering the woods he hears the flutter of wings. Then he sees it…

A golden fairy clear in his view. 

“That any second you may suddenly appear…” 

You're right there…Just a few feet away. A bundle of golden starlight with shimmering dust coming from your wings. He steps closer to you, even if this is still just a dream. He has to be with you. He needs to…

But as he gets near, slowly putting his hand out to reach you. You fly away. 

“WAIT!” 

Link runs after you as he follows your humming, Youre rapidly  moving back and forth through the trees, at some point he loses sight of you and spins around as he hears your humming coming everywhere at once. The bright light of your glow just within the corner of his eye, but never in view. This has to be the sickest thing his own mind has done to himself. To present the one person who he cherishes the most and stood by him through everything. Just being out of reach. 

Link screams gripping at his hair tightly and falls to his knees, Hiccups begin to escape his throat and his eyes sting. A hand quickly goes to cover his mouth as he lets out a silent cry. “Please…” 

His cries echo throughout the woods, the pain and sorrow leaves him in waves as each cry gets louder and louder to the point he is screaming as he sobs. It's so unfair. Dreaming of this once beautiful island, dreaming of you. Both things he has lost, but then. As his hiccups slow down and his eyes begin to dry up, he hears it again. The fluttering of wings

“No, I won't look…”

The fluttering intensifies as it's right in front of his face. He can feel the glittering dust coming from the wings falling gently on his nose and eyelids. 

“...I said no…”

The continuous noise of the wings is all that he hears as he covers his ears. But yet that does nothing to conceal the sound as it gets louder and louder to the point his ears start to ring. However no pain comes from such an intense noise. If anything it's just urging him to look. 

“FINE!” He shoots up with his eyes wide,  just to slightly choke on his breath. 

A golden trail. 

Leading deep inside dark blue oak trees, with vines and colorful bioluminescent flowers. He knows this path, your fountain. Tired mentally and physically he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath in. Placing his hands on his hips he glares at the trail and woods, “...No…” He turned on his heel to head back from where he came. Just to stop at the sound of your humming, coming from the direction of the gold path.  

Link sucks on his teeth, will he really do this to himself? Make him go through even more pain just to hear you singing? To hear you? Link sighs and his shoulders slump down - of course he would…. 

Turning back to the trail, he shakes his head in disbelief at his own thoughts  as he begins to walk on the path ahead. Following your humming. 

Deeper into the woods he goes, following the sound of your soft hum. You sang as if you were singing to a babe a sweet lullaby to help them sleep. The softness and care at each vocal note sents shivers down his spine. You were always so careful, so kind and soft to anything. No matter if it was another person, a flower, or even a rock. You held each with care, not because you believed that they were delicate. That you were so scared of shattering them, no.  Because you believed the philosophy that anything and everything deserved softness in their life, a gentle touch, to smooth out the wrinkles of stress. From a world that could be so - heavy at times.

Even with monsters - although you have never killed any yourself before - Link had noticed whenever he had asked you to scout out an area or a monster camp. Not only did you map everything out perfectly that he could imagine it without even needing to look.  When you assisted him on slowly getting rid of the enemies one by one. You had always directed him in a way that would make the fatal attack instant and painless, a silent mercy.  Only one person, or thing depending on the lifetime - that you showed zero mercy. 

Ganon. 

Link was amazed on how utterly cruel  you could be. Each swing of his blade guided by your hand, were ruthless and downright unfair. Insuring the battle moved on swiftly but that with each wound inflicted on his enemy would give him nothing but agony as he kept fighting. Though after every gruesome battle, you always lay on his chest singing him to sleep, finally getting his needed rest after his adventure. 

Now, as he is following that same lovely voice through the dark woods. He craved to cruled up on a soft bed, with a warm freshly cleaned blanket, a fluffed up pillow under his head. You - his little nightlight in the dark, singing to him as drifts to sleep - you by his side. Maybe thats why he's following this glimpse of you. He craves to be in bed, to rest along side you. Singing another one of your unique songs. 

So please…

Please just give him this one thing…

“People stop and stare. They don't bother me.” 

He's at the cave entrance, your voice is stronger - clear. He takes a deep shaky breath and pushes the vines hiding the spiral stairs. Going down the steps he hears the echo over and the drops of water against the pools of water he remembers fondly. At the bottom of the steps, he sees it once again. 

Your hidden fairy fountain. 

Small pools of water reflected off the glowing crystals and bioluminescent flowers that decorated the large cave. Droplets of water coming from the ceiling fell down with a soft drip drip drip to the clear water below. The ripples of the water merge together until they reach the ends of their pool. The trail continued forward to a large pond at the very back. The pond which connects to the back wall of the cave with numerous amounts of crystals of various sizes and colors in the water, surrounding the pool. A waterfall from the very top crack of the roof, water glistening down in rainbow colors as it enters the pond. Lily pads and floral decorations around the vast cave. 

Light and warmth drowned out all of his senses as he just stood at the very entrance of the fountain and breathed in the scent of the flowers. The fresh water, taking in the sound of the rippling waves -  the beautiful background noise of the waterfall. He took a deep refreshing breath in and continued his walk to the very back pond. The one whose size, color and decoration of pure life ruled over the rest of the small pools -your fountain. The vast crystals, the unique flora and statues made of pure gold surrounding your fountain appeared to make it seem like a throne fit for the most majestic eternal ruler. Unique and ethereal, just like you. 

Link almost lunched back as the water was violently rippling and moving. Something glowing bright gold at the very bottom. The water bubbling and splashing around till finally a pure gold being bursted out of the water. So bright he could not see the features but yet he could see the clear outline of a Hylian - reaching out to him, “For there's no where else on earth.” 

Link has no control over his movements. As he gets closer to this utterly enchanting being, his footsteps echo through the cave, but yet drowned out by that soft singing voice. It's you. It's always been you. As he stands at the very edge of the pond, you push yourself up from the water with your hands. Your soft glow warming his cheeks. As finally - finally the same size as him, though he notices you're a bit smaller, which he smiles at.

You cup his cheek and wipe his single tear, “That I would rather be…”

Link hiccups as he slowly brings up his arm. To reach out and to finally touch you again. Though this time he will not be cupping your whole body within the palm of his hand. He will be cupping your soft cheek. Feeling the warmth that is radiating off of you. The golden fairy dust which is shimmering off of your being. Just as he's about to finally hold you again, something else pops out of the water.

Chains.

Made of pure darkness. They wrap around your neck, your body, your arms. It tugs you down, forcing your hand to let go of his cheek. The water which used to be clear and untainted, shimmering with rainbows. Is then contaminated and murky

“NO! Hold on!”

He roughly grabs at your waist, trying to desperately pull you up as the chains slowly keep sinking in, each link one by one, pulling you down antagonizingly slow. With such force that even as he grips you so hard that his knuckles turn white, he can feel you slipping away. He yells out your name, your reply a soft whisper of his. His eyes shoot up to look  behind you, witnessing a scaled back barely protruding out of the water and going back down below in your pond. You're being dragged in. Down with that beast! He yells out your name one more time, and something snaps within you.

Realization

Acceptance. 

Desperation.

He doesn't know, but he hears it.

Your scream. 

"LINK!!"

With a final tug, you plunge down into the murky dark water of your own pond, which has been corrupted by plight. “NO!” 

Shoving his hands into the water all the way up to his shoulders. He is reaching around trying to grab at you. How deep is this pond? How low could you have gotten? Did that monster get to you? Can he still save you? About to hold his breath to jump in right after you, he is pushed back. He falls on his back on the hard granite ground. Then swiftly pushes himself back up to look back into the pond.

And then he sees it. His reflection.

But it's not, him.

An exact copy of him is staring back at him, but his eyes are sunken and pure red. His clothes seemed to be made with threads woven with pure darkness. His skin an unhealthy pale grey. A sickening smile that spreads from ear to ear. So unnatural with sharpened teeth that appear ready to just puncture and gnaw at him. He stares in fear. Is this thing with you too? 

“They're still waiting. You failed, hero.”

A scream of fury, defeat and just pure hatred escapes his throat as he swings at the water at this bastard reflection of whatever creature is staring back at him. All he hears is that manic deep laughter in the murky water. A single dot of golden light deep in the abyss. 

You. 

~~~

“I woke up and made my way to the riverbed where…I, you know.” 

The calm calling of an owl in the distance is all the reply Legend receives. Time’s brows are pitched together as he continues to stare at Legend, though behind his eyes is a whirlwind of intense emotions Legend can't even begin to decipher. Vet looks around to the rest and holds back a laugh, many had thought during their travels that they were related by blood. Yes, they looked kind of similar - they did see each other as brothers. Though at this very moment as each held a look of extreme fury and determination. Those shades of blue eyes each share burns as hot as the blue flames the Champion has shown them once before, a molten heat of pure unfiltered anger. Any unlucky being or monster to come across this group of heroes would be nothing but a mush of inners and blood on the dirt floor. 

“This bein’ of darkness…looked like ya?” The Ranch Hand let out each word with such a deep hard accent he sounded more like growling than speaking, but Legend understood the heated question. A confident nod made the Ranch Hand  lean back against the boulder he sat in front of, his ears pointed back and a snarl showing off his pointed teeth. A full unhidden growl coming from deep in this throat, one shared look between him and the old man. “We are…familiar with such a doppelganger composed of shadows.” Time let out with a deep voice filled with venom equal to Twilight. 

“...Do you think, the shadow we fought is the same as the thief of your face?” The young sailor’s comment caught them by storm, seeming to almost break their necks as they looked at him. The young man glaring at the ground deep in thought, at this moment he did not appear to be the child he was - but a veteran hero reviewing over the information provided, connecting together the possible profile of their current target. Each is proud of his growth, though if what he said is true…

With a tired sigh Time pushes his hair back and rubs his eyes, “If it is such a case, then this has been more complex than we originally thought.” Warriors pushes himself up as he walks in the center of the crowd, “The concerning question is, what do they want with our golden fairy?” Wild is next to push himself to stand, “Doesn't matter what, we won't let them do anything to them”, each nodding to the statement. 

Four staring at the fire, a shifting of colors in his blue eyes, he shares his thoughts, “From the details of the Vet’s dream. It comes to the conclusion our fairy is held at their fountain, the way you were being led there, in addition to the song they were singing. They sang it to us once I think… It’s called ‘Where You Live..?-”  as they reviewed the information none paid attention to the mistake Four made referring to himself as “us” instead of “me”.

“- ON The Street Where You Live’ it’s called and they live at that fountain when they're not with us!” Hyrule adds to Four’s explanation. Warrior and Time nod in unison, “Each detail points to that outcome, leading Vet to their home as well as singing about being home.” Time sits on a singular log in front of the group looking at each with the gaze of a leader, “Then it is decided, we sleep the rest of the night away. At dawn, we rise with the sun and start the journey back home.”

“To the Meadow.”

~~~

Next

Tags: @pinkittwice @luimagines @twilightpoison @cafecourage @phlying-squirrel @smartiepants217 @eyeless-kun @stardropz-oo @athanasia-day @silver-the-pendejo @krys0210 @justanotherweeb666 @lunadepan120699 @specter-solaire @honest0215 @internet-stuff @lunarobyn22

Heyo! I hope you guys like this new chapter! Mid terms took a lot out of me than I originally expected, I'm sure my fellow students can understand lolol. Based off the comics it looks like the Chain has not yet realized that Dark Link and the shadow are the same person that's why this is going to be a huge detail. The version of the song "On the street where you live" Im imagining is by Vic Damone, he has such a beautiful voice and I adore how he sings! I like to imagine that whatever the MC does while playing Legend of Zelda, it transfers into the world while guiding Link such as singing. This opens the door of adding in a lot of modern-day references which I'm excited for! What is something you guys would do while playing? If you did not get tagged or if you would like to be tagged hit me up in the comments! Thank you so much for reading and I'll see you on the next one!!💙💙

[ashwhowrites]

Eddie as a girl dad

A small blurb that ran through my head

Finding out-

He stared at the pink stick in his girlfriend's hand; the two lines started right back at him. He kept blinking; truly, he was seeing things. He stepped forward and gently grabbed the stick, gulping as he looked at it as close as possible.

"You're pregnant?" He asked, his throat closing in. He turned to look at her, her bottom lip trembling. "It's okay! We'll be okay!" He said softly, throwing his arms around her as he set the stick on the counter.

She sobbed into his chest, every possible fear she had running off her tongue in sobs. Eddie closed the bathroom door to give them more privacy. Even though he was scared as hell himself, he did everything he could to calm her down.

~

"I can't believe we already get to find out the sex," Y/N gushed excitedly as Eddie parked the van. He helped her and held her hand as they walked into the office.

"What are you hoping for? And none of that healthy baby bullshit," Eddie said. Y/N smacked his chest for his inappropriate words as the nurse laughed to herself.

Y/N jumped as the cold jelly hit her stomach, "I want a girl. What about you?"

Eddie never thought he'd have children, and certainly didn't think he'd be this young. His answer was a boy, he wanted a boy. But as he looked into her eyes, smiling face, and growing belly, he wanted another her.

"I want a girl too."

~~~

Meeting her-

"Keep pushing, baby. You can do this," Eddie whispered, clenching Y/N's hand as she pushed. She had been in labor for hours, tears down her face as she begged for their baby to come out. Eddie was out of words, encouraging her the same way over and over. He wished he could do more to help her but standing here and holding her was the only thing he could do.

"Here she is! You're doing it!" The doctor said, Eddie smiled as he kissed Y/N's cheek. "One more."

Before they knew it, cries filled the room. Eddie never looked at another girl since he met Y/N, but his eyes couldn't help but look at the small girl in the doctor's arms.

Y/N cried as she grabbed their daughter, holding her close. "Jesus, Eddie. She looks just like you."

Eddie sniffled as he blinked away his tears, looking at his daughter. "She's beautiful."

~~~

Growing up-

Y/N groaned as another call went unanswered. "I'm going to kill him," Y/N said as she tried to call Eddie again.

She made it home, unlocking the door as she dropped the groceries at her feet. "Edward!" She walked into the house, no sign of him or Alex.

"Eddie?" she called out, she walked to Alex's bedroom, noticing the door was closed and some classical music was playing. She smiled before she opened the door, already knowing what she would see on the other side.

"Mommy!" Alex cheered as she ran to her mom. Y/N picked her up, the pink puffy dress bunched in her hands. "I see Princess Eddie has arrived at the ball," Y/N teased.

Eddie flicked her off, a tiara in his hair. A pink fluffy dress was thrown on over his shirt and dark jeans. Eddie sipped on the empty tea cup.

"Mommy, will you play princess with us?" Y/N let Alex down, letting her join Eddie at the small table.

"One of us has to make dinner. Do you want mommy or daddy to play?" Y/N asked, a smirk on her face knowing Eddie was going to be in that dress a lot longer.

"DADDY!"

~

"She is finally asleep," Eddie yawned, throwing himself down on the bed. Y/N laughed, pulling back the blankets so he could crawl in.

"I've missed you," Eddie groaned, his hands on her in seconds. Y/N smiled as his lips worked on her neck and up to her lips. Y/N gave him a quick peck, tasting lipgloss.

"You've still got some lipgloss on you," she whispered, wiping Eddie's pink lips. "I can see why boys like this, make your lips so much more kissable."

Y/N rolled on top of him, her hands moving down to his pants. "Wanna have some fun?"

"We gotta be fast, I promised Alex I'll drive her to the princess breakfast tomorrow," Eddie said reaching forward to take Y/N's shirt off.

"Wait, isn't that like three towns over?" Y/N asked, scooting back as she looked at Eddie like he was insane.

"Yeah, and?"

"You are going to do a four-hour car ride to take Alex to go eat a plate of eggs that she'll have two bites of?" Y/N asked as she looked at the clock.

"She wants to see the princesses!" Eddie fought.

~

"Did you tell Dad about your boyfriend?" Y/N asked, placing the small bowl in front of her. Alex dived her spoon into the bowl, collecting her cereal as she answered with a mouth full.

"No"

"Boyfriend?" Eddie asked, sitting up from the couch across the room. His feet quickly carried him to the kitchen table as he stood over Alex. "We didn't discuss boyfriends."

"He's super nice and funny!" Alex smiled, a few teeth missing.

"Well if he's funny, laugh. You don't have to date the kid!" Eddie argued.

"Mom went for nice and funny too. They are the good ones," Y/N spoke up, enjoying the way Eddie was uncomfortable.

"Oh, you are not dating someone like me, not happening," Eddie fought, sitting next to Alex. "No boys until thirty!"

~~~

"Dad! Seriously! I'm sixteen, I think I can go to a party!" Alex argued, stomping her way through the house.

"I don't care how old you are. You will not be at a party with drugs, alcohol, and hormonal boys!"

"Mom! Can you talk to him?" Alex asked, walking into her parent's bedroom as Y/N folded the laundry. Eddie was a few steps behind.

"Eddie, she's a responsible and smart girl. She'll be okay," Y/N sighed, already tired of hearing the fight as soon as they walked through the front door.

"You were responsible and a smart girl at eighteen and you had sex with me," Eddie explained. Alex gagged as she covered her ears.

"Please, I don't need to hear about your guy's sex life"

"Well it resulted in you, so no party and still no boys!" Eddie declared as he left the room.