You’re warm under the palm of his hand, bare flesh a soft place to rest between him and your hip bone. If he focuses hard enough, he can feel the faint thump of your heartbeat, almost in tandem with the small puffs of air hitting his chin. 

He sighs, the corners of his mouth curling in contentment. 

A good life. 

Evidence of last night is strewn across the room—the red tulips on your bedside and his slacks hanging off the bed. The shirt he’d worn lies atop the dress he slipped off you, half of your black two-piece set caught in it.

The memory replays vividly—bites to his neck down to his collarbone, a pull of his hair and his lower lip caught between yours. You handle Hajime roughly because you know he can take it, know that it gets him going the more you want him. 

But with you, he takes his time—runs his fingers over every area he’s grown fond of (which is everywhere, really). He strips you down slowly, unwrapping you like a gift labeled: handle with care, open gently. 

Then, he savors it—you.

The wrapper lies next to his head, half-tucked underneath his pillow, a piece of elegant black lace you know drives him crazy. 

A perk of celebrating Valentine’s Day two ways is that one half belongs to him and the other to you—a team effort to make the day as special as it can be. 

He shifts, hand sliding up to rest on your waist. The movement causes you to stir, digging your cheek deeper into your pillow as you scrunch your brows—a sign of you coming to wake. 

Hajime immediately shuts his eyes, feigning sleep. Last night was all his—flowers, a nice dinner, and the dessert that came after it. This morning is yours, with only one instruction for him: sleep in. 

How upset would you be if he ruined your surprise? 

The bed dips on your side, no doubt you reaching for the bedside to check the time. Even with his eyes shut, he has your mornings memorized. A whispered ‘shit’ almost makes him break into a smile, but he reigns it in, expression neutral and breathing steady. 

You move again, his hand still on your waist as you turn once more, to what he can only assume is to face him. There’s a momentary pause that makes him worry you’ve found him out, but he feels your fingertips run over the crease between his brows, smoothening it out the way you always do. 

(He has a terrible habit of frowning in his sleep, he’s learned.)

It makes him nervous the longer you linger, the tips of your fingers sliding down the bridge of his nose to rest on his lips, running over it once, twice. Then you sigh, inching closer before gently nudging his nose with yours.

The small peck you land on his lips almost makes him break, but he holds it in, letting you sneak away (albeit badly) for whatever it is you’re planning for today. 

(The bed dips too deeply, comforter rustling as you untangle yourself from it. You stub your toe on the edge of your bedside table and attempt to muffle an ‘ouch’, even though he can hear you—pretty clearly actually. He has to bite his lip to stop himself from chuckling.)

If it were up to him, Hajime would just keep you here, no sneaking around or stubbed toes, no surprise or anything—just you, wrapped in his arms, under his sheets. 

.

Just as he’d promised though, he did sleep in (if an extra 20 minutes of forcing his eyes shut counts as that). 

The flowers on your bedside are gone, and so is his shirt—the sheets beside him crinkled in the shape of your haste to get up from it. He yawns, running a hand through his hair to fix up the mess you made of it last night. 

As part of his routine, Hajime stretches, first with his neck—side-to-side, up-and-down—then with his back, twisting left and right. Next, he changes, puts on a pair of gray sweatpants that you claim must be a staple in his wardrobe (you say he looks like he could fuck you up, its hem hanging dangerously low to reveal the grooves of that deep v-line leading to his pelvis).

After pushing aside the curtains for sunlight to stream through, he cleans the room, picking up the mess of clothes on the floor and making the bed; you usually do this, because you’re particular with the pillow placements, but he’ll take over for now. 

This should buy you enough time, right? An extra 10 minutes for your planned surprise.

He takes a breath, doing one last scan of the room before stepping out. 

As soon as he gets into the hallway, he smells chocolate. 

Each step he takes is consciously softened as he carries his weight, carefully making his way to the sight of you, back towards him in nothing but his t-shirt hanging temptingly high to barely conceal black lace. You seem focused, entirely preoccupied with the kitchen stove.

A familiar feeling settles into his stomach, warm and soothing, one he’s been having more and more around you lately. The corner of his lips curl up. 

For Hajime, the best way to start the day is with the morning light and you.

He sneaks up behind your back, peeking over your shoulder at the chocolate pancakes you seem to be slowly ladling into the pan. And just when you’ve formed a figure he can only assume is a heart, he takes a step closer, hands resting on your hips as he scrunches up the fabric between his fingers.

“Morning,” he whispers, chin resting on your shoulder as his lips brush the side of your neck, soft and ticklish; you shiver, just a little bit. 

The greeting comes out rough, husky, and you lean into him, your hand coming to rest over his, hiking up your (his) shirt to reveal a slight peek at the black lace hugging the curves of your buttcheek. 

“Morning.” you chuckle when you hear his breath hitch. The pancake in front of you gets flipped to the other side. 

“How’s your head?” he moves to peck your temple. Hajime knows you get the worst hangovers no matter how little you have to drink, and last night was by no means little.

You groan, turning off the stove, letting the residual heat cook the pancake through. 

“Terr–” 

As you turn to him within his arms, you pause, blinking uncontrollably at the presence of Hajime’s bare skin in front of you. Your eyes go wide, zeroing in on the full chest beneath your palms, the cuts of his shoulders, and his arms. Oh—

“Slut.” your brows furrow, lips pouting as you stifle a smile. 

Hajime laughs, olive eyes crinkling as he holds you closer, hands coming to clasp at your lower back. 

“Put on a shirt, you know I can’t focus like this.” 

He knows, because you say this almost every morning, every time. 

“I would,” remnants of his amusement linger on his lips, hand reaching to squeeze your butt as he narrows his gaze mischievously, “but someone stole it.” 

You giggle, arms coming up to wind around his neck, fingers playing with the shorter strands of his hair. Then, you tiptoe, white fuzzy slippers slotting itself between his matching green ones as you tilt your head up for a kiss. 

As it is, Hajime’s liking how this surprise is going. 

He leans in, eyes falling shut as he presses against you. His hand cradles your jaw, callused skin tickling you ever so slightly as he guides your head to turn the other way. Hajime can hardly stop whenever you get him started like this, your lower lip already caught between his teeth. 

But you nip it, right as his other hand crawls underneath your shirt, pulling away as he tries to chase for more. The frown on his face is hard to miss. 

“Gonna get dressed,” you smile amusedly, feigning innocence.

“Isn’t this already too dressed?” he raises an eyebrow, tugging at your (his) shirt. His fingers trail lower, hooking themselves into the lace of your underwear. 

“Don’t be a flirt,” you scrunch your nose, “I feel gross.” 

He squeezes your hip, “I’m gross too.” 

You give him a look. 

He gives you one back. 

If Hajime had the words, he’d tell you you’re the furthest thing from gross, making him breakfast in his clothes and that pretty black number you know drives him up-the-wall crazy.

This is the stuff of his dreams. 

But then you give him those eyes, and you know just as well he’s weak to that too. So he sighs, loosening his grip so you can slip away. 

“I’ll make you eggs!” he calls out as you disappear into the bedroom. 

Your breakfast spread for him is set up on the counter, the chocolate heart pancake on the pan the last needed addition to complete everything. It’s sweet, how you prepared a full-on chocolate feast for him: hot chocolate with chocolate heart pancakes, and butter also in the shape of a heart. The tulips he’d gotten you rest prettily inside the vase he remembers from your first anniversary pottery date.

He feels especially sentimental today taking everything in, noticing how the mug that holds your half-finished coffee matches the one that holds his hot chocolate. 

In the little over two years that you’ve been together, you’ve assimilated yourself into his space so naturally that it feels like you’ve always just been here—that it feels right how all your chips fill up the entire bottom shelf of his pantry because you love snacking on them whenever, wherever.

He cracks in two eggs. 

The throw on his couch matches the pillows all because of you, and bottles of your daily vitamins sit perfectly beside all his supplements in the spice-rack turned morning-essentials-rack (one of your so-called organization hacks). 

The pan sizzles, edges of the eggs turning crisp—just how you like it (lately, it’s how he’s been liking it too). 

When you step out of the bedroom, Hajime’s begun plating your food, pouring in another batch of coffee and preparing a bowl of fruits. 

(Today, it’s strawberries—one of your favorites. He made sure to stock up on that for today.) 

Hajime thinks he’s built a pretty solid life for himself—

He prides himself on his routine and the stability of his day-to-day: the mornings, with you raiding his closet and stealing his clothes; the late afternoons, when he picks you up from work and you crash his place because it’s begun to feel so much more like home. 

The evenings cap the day off perfectly, with you tucked under his chin and your leg slung over his hip. It’s too warm, but you get cold easily and he doesn’t mind the warmth when you’re pressed up skin-to-skin. 

And when he sees you in his sweatshirt—the one paired with the sweatpants he’s wearing right now, he smirks knowingly, setting down the utensils with a dopey smile on his face. 

This is good. 

—his life that you now also fit into. 

“Sorry you had to prep the rest,” you pad towards the counter, taking a seat on the stool as he waves it off and sits beside you, “thank you.” 

Without even a word, there’s a painkiller sitting on the palm of his hand, open and waiting for you already. 

You stare at him, puppy-dog eyes and everything, pouting as your fingertips graze his, “I love you.” 

He laughs, rolling his eyes jokingly as he hands you a glass of water, his cheeks already dusted peach.

Shyness still hits him when you’re so vocal like this, but Hajime has known he’s loved you since that day at some outdoor concert you dragged him into. The forecast was gloomy but you’d insisted it was an experience he shouldn’t miss, so he agreed—packed an umbrella and wore a jacket with a hood even, just in case. 

But there you were, in the middle of the downpour, dancing under the rain, and when you’d beckoned him closer, you had that same look on your face. 

“Love you too,” he whispers against your forehead, pressing his lips against it, “happy Valentine’s Day, babe.” 

Breakfasts with the two of you are usually rushed, but work for him today isn’t until noon and you have an entire day off to pack for a two-week business trip you’re set to leave for tomorrow.

So, this is nice. You both have time.  

You’re talking about all sorts of things—some work gossip, that nice old lady who lives a few units down from him; there’s the whole itinerary for your business trip too—meeting here, meeting there. An extra hour to kill to maybe sightsee. Evenings are usually free, and so on. 

But as he’s chewing on half of the chocolate heart pancake, he just can’t, for the life of him, stop thinking. 

The more he hears about your schedule for the upcoming weeks, the more he’s realizing that this is the longest time you’ll be apart.

And he wonders, what’s that gonna be like? 

Most of your clothes will be gone from his dresser, his bathroom counter half-empty without all your skincare. No overheating at night without your arm wrapped firmly around his spine. Just one mug during breakfast, not two, and only a single pair of green fuzzy slippers pacing around the rooms. 

It’ll be a little like how it was before you.

And he hates how that’s even a possibility.  

He takes a sip from his mug.

“So, Oikawa’s taking me out on a date. Is that okay with you?” you lean against your palm, elbow supported on the counter. 

He nods, humming as he sets down the hot chocolate. 

“Hajime.” you hide your smile. 

He snaps out of it, “Hm?” 

“So you’re okay with me going on a date with Oikawa?” 

His knee-jerk scowl is much more like it. 

“That fucker asked you out?” 

You laugh, shaking your head while taking his hand to interlace your fingers with his, “Just seeing if you were listening.” 

A pause, then a squeeze. 

“Wanna tell me what you’re thinking?” 

He tilts his head slightly; one look at you and you draw it all out of him. There’s something about this—breakfasts in his kitchen, with you wearing his clothes and the morning light streaming in. You share a joke or two (or five), a few teasing touches here and there, the mood relaxed and just overwhelmingly nice. 

Hajime is so authentically himself when he’s with you that he doesn’t want anyone else knowing the parts of him that you do—

Everyone would be surprised to find that his typically uptight self is surprisingly funny when he’s let loose; he’s made you laugh a good number of times to prove it, too. 

The boys would never let him live it down if they saw him peach-faced at the tiniest bit of your affection; and they’ll tease him for eternity if they find out that the reason he taps out so early during ‘boys’ nights’ is because he still gets so excited to cuddle in bed with you. 

This is the kind of day-to-day he wants, and he knows you’re the key to all of it. 

—so, Hajime chooses you, much like he’s chosen the mornings. 

“Move in with me,” he tells you simply, two fields of olive green sincerity. 

The words flow out of him with an intensity uninhibited, something you don’t get from him very often. Your expression shifts, breath on hold and—

“When you get back.” he follows up quickly, giving you space to consider it first, “What do you think?” 

All logic is telling him he should be nervous, that this is the defining moment of another goal he’s been working his ass off to reach, but somehow, with his hand in yours, this feels easy. Comfortable in all the good ways because loving you has always been just that. 

“Sex last night was that good, huh?” 

And this—there’s never been a problem with this too. 

He snorts, cheeks turning a deep peach. 

“Just realizing that mornings don’t feel the same without you,” he admits, pulling you closer. You hop off the stool and inch closer, standing between his legs as he rests his hands on your lower back.  

“Flirt.” you scrunch your nose, squeezing his waist. 

You say that, but he sees how your smile reaches your eyes; how it glosses over when you catch his gaze. 

“Okay, muscle boy,” your hands settle on his shoulders, fingers splayed out over every dip and curve, “better do all the moving then. Want all my stuff here by the time I get back.” 

.

And he does—

When you get back, he’s contacted his landlord to get you on the lease. Your clothes are all in his (or now your?) apartment, some still in boxes but the essentials already organized in the closet now split to house both of your things. 

There’re pieces of you everywhere now, not just touches like a person half-there. A lot of the big furniture is still at your place, but that’s really just because he wants to leave that part up to you. 

—after all, it’s your home now too.

thank you notes: @augustinewrites for loving hajime as much as i do 🥹 lights down low used to be a normal soft song for me before, now it belongs to him bc of u + @soumies @mysugu bc this is kinda really so self-shippy and every time i think of seiwa i think of you both 🥺 + @ktsumu for requesting this! i know it only slightly follows the prompt but i hope you enjoy my spin on it anyway 🥺

a/n: i don't think any amount of fic can express how much i love him 🥹 but i hope this comes close 🥹

In just a few strides, Kento was upon him, his hair unruly, shirt wrinkled as the tie remained still crumpled around his hand. His muscles ached and he longed for a shower—though any of those trivial thoughts were outweighed by his incessant need to find you.

“Where is she?” The words hung in the air before Kento realized they’d left his lips at all.

Satoru hesitated, almost unwilling to hand over his confession so easily. “I sent her back to the school.”

Kento clenched his fists, but Satoru was defending himself before any irrational actions could be taken.

“She insisted, Nanami.”

Still, he couldn’t help but wish that Satoru had ignored your pleas, even if Kento was unsurprised that you’d volunteered to stand by the students’ side. You weren’t the type of person to let a few first and second years go up against a special grade on their own, no matter how strong they were.

Satoru was squeezing Kento’s shoulder before he had even noticed the movement. Something in his expression had darkened, and though Kento normally would’ve shoved him off, put some distance between the two of them, he wasn’t sure he could remember a time when Satoru Gojo looked so somber. “I wouldn’t have sent them there if I wasn’t certain they’d be alright. I’m not as cruel as you might think.”

Kento knew that he had never behaved warmly towards his ex-classmate, but his opinion of the man was not as low as Satoru believed. For better or worse, Satoru loved his students, and though he pushed them, Kento knew he would never put them into an undefeatable danger.

He sighed, dropping his chin to his chest as Satoru’s hand fell away from his shoulder. “Just take me to her, Gojo.”

Satoru nodded, his lips curling down into a frown before he was teleporting them both back to the high school. There, the sight was even more dismal than Kento had expected. Many of the buildings had been destroyed and there were clear residuals from many sorcerers and curses. It was chaos, a grim sight to behold, and they weren’t even past the gate.

The anxiety twisted up in his chest, and inwardly, he prayed, hopeful that you were as fine as Satoru believed. That Geto, in every inch of his darkened heart, would hesitate when it came to killing an old friend.

“Hey,” Satoru said, tying up the blindfold once more, tightening it across his snowy hair. “She’s fine. This, I’m certain of.”

Kento’s lips were too dry to even offer a thank you, even though Satoru probably deserved it, for all the sacrifices he made, all the time. Instead, he nodded, and turned away from the tall man, haunted by a memory of him once as young as the students that had been left behind to protect humanity.

The leaves and gravel crunched under Kento’s feet as he ran up to the school, taking in the sheer destruction that had befallen the place he’d once called home. It made him ache with a longing for a simpler time, even though he could never go back, and the boy he’d been was long gone.

It was a brisk night—the kind of night that you normally would’ve spent bundled up inside, a bowl of hot soup between you, a movie running while you rested your head against Kento’s shoulder, dozing off before the credits rolled.

That’s how his night should’ve gone. Instead, he was searching every crushed piece of building, every pile of rubble in case your body had been caught between it.

Kento knew that the life of a sorcerer was a miserable one, that it was easy to lose the people you cared about, but he wasn’t certain he’d be able to go on for much longer if he lost you.

The ring was even heavier in his pocket, weighing him down, making it near impossible to move. If you hadn’t survived, Kento would never forgive himself for waiting so long to propose.

He called your name, ripping off his glasses in any attempt to see you better, wondering where you could’ve disappeared to, hoping that you hadn’t died alone.

The grounds, it seemed, had been hollowed out completely, and for the first time, Kento wondered if Gojo was wrong about his old friend.

Panic clawed up his chest, scratching at his throat, sending him into an illogical spiral before a small, shaky voice from behind him brought him back to reality, a light that parted through the black night, so sweet and heavenly to his ears.

“Kento?”

He turned, blinked as you swayed on your feet, making your way slowly down the steps of the main building. You walked awkwardly on your ankle, though you pushed on, heading towards him despite the pain.

For a moment, he watched, and then he was upon you without even acknowledging his movements, two long strides that brought him back to his salvation.

Kento pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your hair, breathing in the undeniable truth that you were still alive, even as you winced from his stronghold, your arms limp at your sides.

“Fuck,” Kento said, kissing you on the top of the head, your hairline, forehead. His eyes were glossy with tears that had been held back by his remaining shreds of hope. “You scared me there for a second, sweetheart.”

Your hands were on his chest, tracing his bicep before you curled your fingers around his jaw, bringing his gaze to your own. The touch was light, searching for any wounds that hid under his stained button-up. “I’m okay,” you said, softly, even though your face was bruised, your ankle twisted, and you were bleeding from more places than one. “Are you?”

Kento nearly laughed, wondering how you could even think to ask that question when he was untouched compared to you. Though, the amusement died immediately when you looked at him with so much concern that he melted, and he squeezed your hand in reassurance. “I’m okay.”

You nodded, expression serious as you attempted to ingrain the words into your mind, convince yourself that everything would be alright, even though things hadn’t been that way in nearly a decade. You kept your hands on him, as if waiting for some wounds to appear, for him to start bleeding into your palm, even though his injuries went no further than some sore muscles.

“And everyone else?”

Kento pulled you into his chest, running a hand up and down your back, wishing that he could heal you as easily as Shoko could, that a gentle touch could fix everything that had ever soiled your life. “Everyone’s fine,” he said, and as far as he knew, that was true. “A little beat up, but they’re alive.”

You exhaled, nodding into his chest as you rested your weight on him.

Kento would gladly bear it, would carry you all the way home if need be.

Briefly, you were silent, before you squeezed your eyes shut painfully and grimaced. “I got the students to Shoko, but they were all so hurt, so badly,” you swallowed, digging your fingers into his shirt, and Kento suddenly hated that Satoru hadn’t sent him with you, even if he was needed in the city. “Geto—”

You stopped yourself, and said nothing more, heartbroken by a boy you had too many fond memories of to ever see in a malicious light. It was difficult for everyone who’d ever known him back then, even if he hadn’t been that way in a decade.

Kento swallowed and you pushed away your tears, buried whatever conversation had transpired earlier between you and the dark-haired sorcerer.

Though, you’d resolved to be everything that Geto was not. That, at least, had been one positive outcome of his betrayal. “It’s not your fault, love.”

“I should’ve been more prepared to kill him, Kento. I’m not as strong as him, but I should’ve been able to hold him off until Gojo—” You choked back a cry before standing straight, shaking your head. “I tried too hard to reason with him. I left it to a student, and—”

“Hey,” Kento held your cheeks tight in his palms, forcing you to gain a better perspective of the situation. You looked up at him with soft, lost eyes, and Kento was filled with a swell of adoration for you, for the strength that came with the vastness of your heart.

Despite all you’d suffered, you’d managed a smile, been the light in Kento’s life, even when he’d wanted to do nothing but wallow in his own misery. If not for you, he wasn’t sure he ever would’ve come back to being a sorcerer at all. If not for you, Kento would’ve been lost, without an ounce of meaning in his life.

You were so foolish for thinking you hadn’t done enough, when you’d done more for him than he could put into words. Kento’s love for you was enormous, and in that moment, he would’ve let the rest of the world collapse in on itself if it meant you’d be safe and happy.

“Any of us would’ve done the same. Do you really believe that Gojo would’ve so easily killed Geto without speaking to him first? Would I have?”

The look didn’t dissipate from your irises, but you didn’t disagree with him, and that was enough. Kento kissed you, deeply, putting every ounce of affection into that single touch. Everyone had made it out of the night alive, and you’d been there for the students when it mattered the most. That was more than he could say, at least.

“I don’t want to lose anyone else, Kento,” you said, blinking at him once more with those sad eyes, ones that he never wanted to see on your normally bright expression. “I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t tear me apart.”

“You won’t lose me,” he promised, even though he knew that there was no way he could keep it, an oath that was almost destined to be broken. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You and I both know that you can’t be sure of that,” you said, backing out of his embrace to wrap a protective arm around yourself. The smile that graced your lips was sad, defeated. “Our world is not merciful enough.”

Kento knew that better than anyone, and he’d been reminded of it that evening. Reminded of the loss that befell those who wanted to fight for a better world, and even those who didn’t. Death didn’t give any warning, didn’t choose based off anything more than a random draw. “Then I’ll promise to love you until the day I die. That, at least, is a vow I won’t ever break.”

The ring in his pocket was practically vibrating now, reminding him how little the non-necessities of life mattered to him. All this time, he been waiting for the perfect moment, to plan everything down to the very last detail.

It seemed meaningless now.

You squeezed his hand, your face brightening despite your sorrow, lips tugging up sideways. “I can promise the same.” Kento’s heart swelled, and you kissed his cheek before dragging him a few steps forward so the two of you were walking in time together. “We should go check on the students. I want Shoko to check my ankle too. I’ve suffered worse, but it’s starting to swell pretty badly.”

Kento nodded, though his mind was too busy whirling with fears of a wedding that might never happen, that you might never know he was going to propose if he didn’t do it soon. You could be snatched away from him at any moment, or perhaps, he could leave this world with the ring still in his pocket, and you’d only know once you found it on his corpse.

Kento wouldn’t forgive himself, even in death, if he didn’t do what he’d been wanting to do for months.

With one arm around your shoulder, he reached the other into his pocket, twirling the box. He wasn’t even sure why he carried it with him that night when he could’ve so easily lost it in the middle of battle.

Yet, there it was, lingering, the constant weight in his pocket that rested against his hip. He swallowed, and you looked up at him, your lips falling back once more into a frown.

“Hey,” you said, slowing your pace, concern evident in your expression. “Is something wrong? Did something happen in Shinjuku, Kento? I didn’t mean to just brush off—”

Kento shook his head, shushing you quickly. It didn’t take him long to make up his mind, and he wrapped the tiny box up in his hand. “Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of your head again before holding the box out, presenting it to you calmly, without any spike in his normal tone. “I just was thinking about how I was going to ask you to marry me.”

You stopped completely, your pupils blown wide as you took the box from him with shaky hands, blinking back down at it before meeting his tender brown eyes. “Kento?” you said again, calmly, as if waiting for him to explain.

A beat of silence passed between you. Kento, suddenly, felt nervous around you for the first time in a long while.

“Truthfully, I was going to prepare a long-winded speech and buy you some flowers and take you out for dinner. But,” he cleared his throat, regaining his composure as he flipped the lid of the velvety box, revealing the sparkling ring he’d spend hours searching for. “I love you too much to waste any more time. Somehow, until tonight, I’d forgotten how short life can be. I just want to spend every moment I can as your husband.”

Your eyes became glossy as you stared down at the beautiful gem, lifting the ring out of the box to slide onto your finger. As expected, it fit you perfectly, shimmering in the pale light, the perfect complement to your skin. Kento gently took your hand, kissing the knuckle right below the jewelry.

“I’ll propose again to you properly,” he said, laughing quietly, though if it was because of your silence or the joy lodged within him, he couldn’t be certain. “Without all the blood and the—"

“Kento.” Your lips were on his before he could finish his sentence, harsh and passionate despite your injuries. Fingers curled around his chin, holding him into place, making him forget all the horrors that had occurred that evening. “Don’t be silly. I don’t need a grandiose display to know I want to be with you forever. I love you too much.”

Kento’s chest warmed, that bundle of affection within him bursting, making its way through every ounce of his being. There, you seemed to glow brighter, every day making you more beautiful than before, and he wondered how it could be possible that he could feel so much for one person.

He relaxed, unknowingly tense, and kissed you again on the forehead, his arms around your shoulder once more. “I should’ve done it sooner.”

You smiled and caressed the harsh bones of his cheeks, shaking your head. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.” You laughed, pulling him down by the tie, pressing a kiss between his brows to ease the wrinkle there. “Besides, now you’ve turned this awful night into something special. I don’t have to remember this day with a bitter taste in my mouth.”

Kento returned your smile, but it was still weak, even with all of the adoration he felt for you.

Though, when you beamed at the ring, your eyes soft, all of the previous despair gone, he knew that everything would be alright. Perhaps his timing had been less than ideal, but he would do it over and over again if only to ease away the misery from your face.

“So, then you will marry me?” he said again, wanting to hear the words from your lips, even though there was no doubt in his mind.

You rolled your eyes playfully, noticing his teasing smile and indulged him. “Yes, Kento.” You kissed his cheek, letting out a sharp exhale. “I’ll marry you. I would’ve always said yes, even back when we were silly, lovesick teenagers.” You sighed theatrically, adjusting his tie. “Who knows why. You had such a ridiculous haircut back then.”

Kento’s cheeks grew warm, splitting with the force of his smile, one that only seemed to appear with you at his side. Despite all of the horrible things that had happened in all of your lives, he was grateful that there were good moments too.

“Well, I still managed to win over the prettiest girl in the world, didn’t I?” he said, ghosting the words as he laced his fingers with your own, squeezing tight. “Now I get to call her my fiancée.”

You mumbled something less than kind under your breath, but Kento could feel the warmth on your cheeks, the flush the began from your neck.

He laughed, continuing his path back to the infirmary, where the students were likely waiting for you to return safe and sound. “Come on, I’m taking you to see Shoko. I wouldn’t want my future wife’s injuries to get any worse, would I?”

So Miguel scrounged around the kitchen for what he needed. He squinted to read his mothers old chicken scratch from all those years ago. He put in the work, as uncomfortable as he felt, And He packaged it and come all the way here.

And now he didn’t know how to go forward.

He had never felt more out of his element in his life. As he Stood outside your window with the soup in his freakish claws he realised he didn’t know where to go from there. He hadn’t thought further than this point. What would he say when he gave it to you? What would he even do after that?

He had to awkwardly shimmy through the window with the Tupperware in one hand, almost stepping on a cable stretching across the floor. “Fuck—“

the hinges creaking offensively as he pushed down your open window and he cursed, shutting it as delicately as possible. When he heard your voice ring out from behind him he tensed.

“Uh, Hey Miguel!” You call from the bathroom. He breathed out the puff of air he was holding in. No turning back now.

“…Hey,” he called, not knowing where to begin. “…I brought you a little something.”

He makes his way to where he heard your voice coming from, and pauses briefly by your kitchen counter. He looks down at the soup in his hands.

…He could just leave it here, that would be less humiliating for everyone, wouldn’t it? He knew you were ok, now. He heard your voice, so you were alive. He did what he came here to do. He could turn around right now and escape while you were still in the bathroom.

But something stops him. A little smell wafted by his nose briefly. It was brief. It was faint. But it was there and it made him pause.

So he sits the soup on the counter quietly, but he doesn’t turn around. He walks further down the hall and takes a deep breathe. The smell is clearer now. Miguel gets a bad feeling.

He picks up the pace and pulls off his mask to get a better whiff, and suddenly he’s hit with the all too familiar stifling stench of blood.

No.

NO!

“Y/n!” He runs up to your bathroom door and starts rattling the handle, but the door is locked. He pauses when he hears your voice on the other side, clearer and more effective at preventing him from tearing the door off its hinges—.

“D-Don’t come in!” You yell. “I’m... ngh- I’m a bit busy in here!”

“Y/n, what do I smell?!” He doesn’t need you to tell him, He already knows the answer. It’s pungency rings clear from his side of the door. The tanginess was so prominent that even someone with normal senses could pick up on it.

“N-nothing!” You stutter. You always stutter when you’re nervous. And when you're lying.

“Are you bleeding? Where’s it coming from? Open up!” He starts banging on the door again, his fist unintentionally rattling the frame.

“You don’t smell anything- stop that!” You snapped, annoyance ringing clear. But there was a certain strain to your voice, a painful whine that made his heart drop. “I-I’m just, uh- changing! will you give me a minute? Please, Miguel.”

“Don’t lie to me! What’s wrong, can you not get to the door?” He starts backing up to gauge the frame of the door and… Yeah, he could kick that in, easily.

sensing what he was getting ready to do, you spring up from your spot hunched over on the side of the bath tub and amble to the bathroom door. “No no no!” You lean against the door, heaving. “Don’t do anything drastic, I’m right here!”

He paused and waited for you to open it, but your hesitation makes him start losing his patience. “Y/n-“

“I’m ok, Miguel. S-seriously. I just took a little tumble on the way home.” You swallow back a painful grunt as you lean on the door frame for more support. “Look…” you started. “Now’s really not a good time—“

“Y/n.”

You shut your mouth. ‘Oh, shit.’

the tone of his voice hid a warning. Miguel knew what you were going to suggest even before you said it, and he refused to let you finish. The fact that you were bleeding as much as you were for him to smell you across the house, And you were trying to hide it from him? It must be bad, there was no doubt about that. His brain began racing for answers, for explanations, for names. He didn’t know where you were hurt, god what if it was somewhere vital? Who did this to you and where? Why were you trying to hide it? Did they threaten you? Something must of happened. there was no way he would leave you here, No. There was no getting rid of him now.

“Open this door.” He says one final time. And you can tell it’s the final time from the tone of his words. His voice quaked with fury at even the mere insinuation that he’d ever leave you when you were wounded. That you were even wounded In the first place.

“Now.”

...

There’s a beat of silence where neither of you say anything. And for a second he thinks he’s going to have to break the door open inwards just to avoid plowing over you to get it open. But then he hears you apprehensively turn the lock and he almost breaks the handle from how fast he rips it open.

You stumble a bit, reeling at his strength. and then youre taking a tumble from being thrown off balance, but before you can even yelp out a cry he swoops in to catch you in his arms before your body can even comes close to hitting the floor. “Lo si—! Sorry! Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

from being so close he could tell immedietely that you were running warm, did you really have a fever too? He perches you on to the toilet seat and you wince at the ache washing through your body. God, your back was killing you... and Miguel's hands were all over you. you tried pulling your arms out of his grip, but he wasn't budging. he scoured your front for bruises, cuts, anything.

"what happened, where does it hurt, Y/N, please." he lifted your arms, checking your sides. nothing there... You couldn't bring yourself to answer, all the jostling around was making you go really dizzy... so much so that his words seemed to bounce off your ears. you squint at him. were there two of him before?

"Oi, mami/papi. focus for me. tell me where your hurt." he pats your cheek, snapping you a little out of your stupor. you blinked. his faced was pulled taught with worry, lines creased his skin in places that looked almost painful. and his eyes...

"Miguel... hhhave... your eyessschanged?" you weren't sure if it was the delirium from the pain finally setting in, or if your bathroom light just highlighted the underlying hues, but his tired brown eyes had shifted to a shade of... dare you say red.

they flicked back to your face, they had this wild look in them, like he was angry. but his voice wobbled like he was scared. "tell me where the pain is."

"... M' back.." you mumbled. he tugs on your shoulder to twist you around, making you whine. he apologizes quietly, before turning back to the red stains that were crawling up the back of your shirt.

you both descended into a tense silence. Miguel looked cramped, hovering over you in your tiny bathroom. he had to draw in his arms to not knock into your shower. not the most ideal place to play nurse... but he would manage. Miguel unshealthes his talons and cuts open the fabric like its warm butter. all you feel is a cold draft hit your back, and you shudder.

when he gets a good look at the state of your back his heart drops, what he finds isn't what he was expecting. your lower back is marred with an explosion like mass of burned skin. the center of the wound is deeper and more bloody then the rest, like something fast, blunt and burning hot struck you there.

God.

"Y/N, what the hell happened?" he glances at your bathroom bin and spots your old, scorched shirt lying inside. so you really were changing... that explained why the shirt you were wearing didn't have a massive gaping hole in it.

"Lyla. whats the aetiology for this." she flickers into view next to him, screening your back, and she winces.

"the lascerations have been caused by 1st and 2nd degree burns, the wound has become infected and needs to be treated immediately. the depth of the wound is telling me that the collision was hard and fast, likely a projectile."

"they were shot?."

"most likely. not by any normal weapon though, obviously." she confirmed, "it... doesn't look like the infection has interfered with the spinal collum." she optimistically added.

"will it scar?" he tilted his head towards her, but didn't take his eyes off the wound.

the Ai assistant didn't respond, calculating the most nerve settling response to his question. her silence told him everything he needed to know. "yeah, don't answer that." a snarl was building in his throat, fighting its way to the top.

he spots the first aid bag and its contents sprawled across your counter. most of it was over the counter painkillers, light ointments and bandaids. nothing in there that would help you.

"ok." he drags his hand down his face looking around the room. "Hijo de puta-!" his fist banged against the wall in a burst of anger, the pathetic thin walls rattled underneath the force. "Y/N, what the hell were you thinking?!"

you were stuck in this apartment by yourself, barely able to move or, jesus, even think. the fact that he could have never come… No, that he had come but couldve left here without knowing you were going through this on your own... the thought made him sick. why did you let it get this bad? what had happened?

you don't answer his question, your breathing has started to grow heavier, fevered. the sheen of sweat on the back of your neck had grown thicker as well. miguel reaches out to hold you steady. his mind racing. you can't stay here.

he knows he has to make a call. literally. he lifts his watch to his face.

"Jess, get someone on the medical team to prepare for my arrival." he picks you up carefully and fights to keep his voice from rising, he wasn't thinking clearly. all he could think about was getting you somewhere safe.

it wasn't common for miguel to ask for medical assistance, even at times when he probably should. he didn't like calling for help, he prefered to do things on his own, even to his own detriment. the idea that something could shake miguel up like this, making him ask for assistance, was new. Jessica could hear the tension in his throat as clear as day.

"whats your condition." she responded, concern shining through in her voice.

"no, no. i'm fine." he answered. "i've got an injured with me, they've been shot and need first aid immedietely. its a second degree burn that been left for over 24 hours, its infected."

"...done." she answers. "are they a new recruit?"

"they're a friend."

Pozole: a traditional soup or stew that is made from hominy with meat, you can put in things like shredded lettuce/cabbage, chilli peppers, onions, garlic, radishes, avocado, salsa or limes. (this sounds scrummy ngl i'm so hungry bro)

"Lo siento": i'm sorry (this is when he goes "Lo si-" but cuts himself off)

"Oi, mami": hey, Mama (i learned that mami or mamita can be used in a lot of different ways. native spanish speakers can use it to adress parentel figures, friends that give motherly energy, or it can even be used as a funny nickname for kids. i've seen a lot of people use it sexually in fics, but apparently thats not always the case!)

aetiology: kind of like a diagnosis, but different. its the cause of a desease or condition. idk if it's applicable to wounds, though.

"Hijo de puta-!": son of a bitch-!

I put these here so if anyone has any corrections i could make to the terms I’ve used to be more accurate then I can change them accordingly. I used online translators and articles… if anyone has any good websites for translating languages let me know! i'd be really interested.

Single Father!Miguel who trusts you as both his assistant and a human being enough to leave his precious daughter in your care knowing full well she would be in good hands. Sometimes Alchemax would work him overtime, sometimes his duties as Spider-Man would interfere. No matter what it was, it delayed him from seeing and attending to his daughter’s needs, and thus, he had asked you once in a while to pick up and babysit his daughter after your usual 9-5.

Single Father!Miguel who, at the beginning, once in a while asked you to pick his daughter up from school. Once in a while turned into occasionally. Occasionally turned into sometimes. Sometimes turned into constantly, and next thing Miguel knew, you were the one that his daughter and teachers would look out for during school pick up time. He didn’t expect that you would become his assistant even outside of work, but you did, and Miguel can’t exactly turn back time now. He’s labeled you as his child’s unofficial secondary caretaker—you’re even listed as an emergency contact.

Single Father!Miguel who thinks you’re too polite for your own good. Miguel had asked you once if this was a burden, being his assistant both in and out of Alchemax, and if it became too much that you were more than free to quit at any sudden time without consequence. You had merely replied that you understood the struggles of being a single parent and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of asking for help when it was needed. 

Single Father!Miguel who notices that Gabriella views you more than just her occasional babysitter. When he'd come home late at night, he was usually greeted by you two doing something together, whether it be doing math homework together, baking cookies, you reading aloud to her, or just simply talking, he'd always catch you and her almost... bonding.

Single Father!Miguel who often dwells on the memory of young Gabriella asking innocently why she doesn't have two parents like the rest of her classmates, why she only had one parent compared to everyone else after witnessing she was the odd one out during Family Day. Miguel didn't, and still doesn't, have the courage to tell her that her real mother had abandoned her to him, leaving Miguel in the dust. Miguel used her naivety to his advantage. He disguised it as her being unique compared to others, that some moms just came later in life; she just happened to be a late bloomer.

Single Father!Miguel who always thanks you for staying late tucking Gabriella into bed when he couldn't. You constantly tell him that it's truly no problem, but he insists on thanking you every time and ever so subtly increasing your paycheck. How could he not? Especially considering the fact you always, always whip him up extra dinner that was tucked away for him to eat during the late hours of night.

Single Father!Miguel who feels uneasy as he opens up a fridge to find the said pasta left by you one night in a glass tupperware container, staring at how neatly it’s been plated despite its standard container. He juts it into the microwave as he attempts to ignore how quiet and desolate the kitchen and the apartment is, how the humming of the microwave and the humdrum of the ceiling fan are the only noise that floats through. And when he quietly eats the pasta serving meant for one, he can’t help but gaze longingly at the empty seat across the dining table, where someone else should be seated with him sharing the same meal.

Single Father!Miguel who finally has the time to pick up his daughter after school for once in the school year, but forgot to tell you that you were able to take the rest of the day off. So you, him, Gabriella, and essentially everyone are surprised when both you and Miguel show up to pick Gabriella up after school. One of the teachers goes to gush about how she's excited to meet Gabriella's dad and what a beautiful family you all are, to which you and Miguel, evidently flustered, explain loosely your relationship to each other and how it's merely professional (to one curly-headed third grader, though, it's not—but she'd never tell you and her father that. At least not now.).

Single Father!Miguel who tags along to Gabriella's after school soccer practice for once and despite your protests about you not wanting to interfere "family time", Miguel and his daughter convince you to come watch her like you usually did on Wednesdays. He says he doesn't mind at all and if anything, could use your presence there to ease his nerves since he'd be a newcomer to the soccer parent group.

Single Father!Miguel who watches attentively to how you support Gabriella on the field from the sidelines. He wonders tenaciously if you've fallen into routine of this—from helping her get ready into her uniform to offering small suggestions that help her on the soccer field. He doesn't miss the way her eyes go towards you whenever she did something right and he especially catches onto the fact that she would gush in pure happiness from your approval when you would throw a thumbs up or a delighted nod.

Single Father!Miguel who merely blinks at the compliments given by the two friendly soccer mom next to him.

"Gabi does certainly look a lot like you, but she still has (Y/N)'s beauty and kindness, doesn't she?"

"Oh yes, I agree. Your wife is nothing less of lovely, you know, you're a very lucky man, Mr. O'Hara!"

He's so caught up in trying to process both their words and Gabriella's action on the field, that it doesn't register to him until a few moments later. Miguel attempts to butt in, saying that you're just his subordinate, but when a loud cheer from the other team erupts through, his words fail him.

Single Father!Miguel whose mind is still so stuck on what the soccer moms had said about you that he didn't even realize Gabriella had made the winning goal for today's practice match. Lying through his teeth when asked about if he saw it from her, he realizes that perhaps he should start viewing you in a different light rather than just his daughter's babysitter because the way that Gabriella looks at you with such elation when you congratulate her on her win pulls at his heartstrings ever so slightly.

Single Father!Miguel who contemplates over and over again if he should be doing this—inviting you to Gabriella's first game of the season—the two purchased tickets he held in his fist. You've entered his home a dozen of times, but this would be the first time in three years that he was outside of your own residence. He thinks he's too dressed up for the occasion, cladded in a white button up and black dress pants. A voice asks him if he's his daughter's boyfriend, and Miguel whips around to face an elderly man with a questioned look on his face.

Single Father!Miguel who realizes that it's your father standing in front of him, spare key in hand. He's quick to say no (to your father's disappointment), and introduces himself as your superior. Your father invites Miguel inside your apartment, telling him that you were out fetching groceries and jokingly mentions he uses this opportunity to sneakily fill your cabinets and fridge of food. Your father complains you're too independent for your own good, but he can't exactly blame you—you grew up that way.

Single Father!Miguel who learns that once in your life you were just like his daughter and that in one point in your father's life, he was just like Miguel. All details shared from him, he learns that your mother passed away early in your life due to cancer and ultimately left you and your father to fend for yourselves. Your father tells Miguel that you often had helped out even when you didn't need to—and it doesn't take long for Miguel to piece the pieces together. Why you barely complain about the extra workload, why your father said you're too autonomous, and why all those years ago you not only sympathized with Miguel, but understood his situation as you came from the same exact upbringing.

Single Father!Miguel who listens intently when your father quietly tells him that all he wants for you is to find a good man that would be able to take care of you properly because he believes he wasn't able to. Miguel is quick to reassure him, however, that he did a fantastic job raising a selfless, humble woman that grew to be compassionate and considerate of others' needs, that you were the hardest worker he had ever seen and that he shouldn't discredit himself. Your father goes to examine Miguel for a moment before letting out a loud, haughty laugh in your apartment and jokingly (not really) tells Miguel he hopes that you'll marry him one day, or at least someone like him.

Single Father!Miguel whose resolve dissipates when you walk into your apartment to find your boss and your father talking amongst each other. He sits silently and awkwardly as you complain to your father about dropping by without any warning before you ask him what was he doing here in the first place. Your father takes his leave, winking at Miguel with a glint in his eye, leaving you two in your apartment alone.

Single Father!Miguel who finally gathers up the courage to ask you if you'd like to attend Gabriella's soccer game with him. You interject with visible hesitation, telling him that it was implied that it was a family-only event and you'd hate to intrude onto something so intimate, but he's quick to reassure you that his daughter would love to have you there considering all the help you had given her during her practices—if anything, she would need you there for your support.

Single Father!Miguel who tells you that Gabriella had shown visible distress last night when Miguel told her that you might not be able to come due to your non-familial relationship with them. He almost begged you to come with them, as Gabriella had even threatened to quit soccer altogether if you weren't there to witness her first game. When you give in after moments of contemplation, Miguel truly couldn't believe his luck.

Single Father!Miguel who roots alongside you for Gabriella and her team, watching oh so closely just in case someone from the other team did a dirty trick on his precious daughter. He'd sometimes occasionally glance at you, only to see you completely zoned in and focused on Gabriella's playing like the rest of the parents, offering your support through compliments and encouragements that his daughter always caught and would visibly improve from. When she finally scores the winning goal per usual, she's quick to ignore the cheers coming from her teammates and parents to run off the field and not look for Miguel first, but for you.

"Did you see me?!" Gabriella exclaims excitedly as she flings her arms around your waist. "Did you see what I did?!"

"I did, yes," you laugh, attempting not to stumble over from the impact with visible glee and crouch down to her height. Pride written all over your face, you grin. "And I'm so incredibly proud of you."

"It's 'cause I did what you taught me," she declares. "I pointed first and then I shooted!" She uses hand gestures to reanimate her play on the field.

"Shot, Gabi," you correctly gently, your fingers going to automatically comb out the tangles out of her hair like you usually did after practices. "It does come handy, doesn't it?"

"Yeah!" Her eyes go to see Miguel, who doesn't stalk too far behind with open arms and the same proud look painted on his face. "Dad! Didja see me?! Didja see that I scored?!"

Miguel lets out a once-in-a-blue-moon chuckle and lifts his daughter into his arms, her arms wrapping around his neck in an affirming hug. "I saw very clearly, mi cariño, and I can't wait to brag about how my daughter scored the winning shot for her team," he compliments warmly.

Gabriella goes to point gleefully in your direction. "It was all because of Miss. (Y/N)," she declares, not knowing that her statement would make a rush of heat bloom onto your face.

"O-oh no... I only... w-well," you stammer out meekly, trying to find the right words. "I'm actually not too knowledgeable on soccer... I only repeated what I found online and—"

"Thank you," Miguel starts off fondly. "(Y/N), truly. Thank you."

You stare at him. "Mr. O'Hara..."

He sets Gabriella down for her to join her rejoicing teammate and pats the small of your back with a grateful look plastered on his face. You were so used to seeing the rather stoic and often tired side of Miguel O'Hara that you forgot he, too, was capable of smiling at times, so when you spotted the small of a grin on his lips that was for you specifically, you felt something in your chest jerk a little bit.

"If it weren't for you being here," he starts off quietly so only you can hear. "Gabi wouldn't have participated at all. She wanted you to come so she'd have enough courage to play because she was so used to you supporting her," Miguel glances at his daughter giggling about on the field. "So it was understandable that if her biggest supporter wasn't here to cheer her on, she wouldn't exactly do her best."

You blink slowly at him, digesting his words in order to truly savor them for all that they were. "I was just—"

"—doing your job?" Miguel finishes for you. He shakes his head. "Last time I remember, 'attending your boss's daughter's soccer games' wasn't on your job description," he says, earning a soft chuckle out of you despite his rather flat tone.

"I suppose so," you murmur with an evident warmth in your eyes, one that Miguel is sure Gabriella has seen numerous times and will continue to welcome as long as you're around.

So when after a dinner celebration at her favorite restaurant, after the star player is tucked into bed after a long day's work, Miguel takes it upon himself to do the what he thought was the impossible for him but possible for Gabriella.

"Stay safe out there," Miguel directs quietly as he helps you put on your coat again. "And again, thank you for today."

"It was my pleasure, Mr. O'Hara," you reply, "And I actually had fun today, so I can thank you for that."

He escorts you down the apartment complex to the lobby and begins to watch you leave, the words on his tongue tipping ever so slowly before they spill the moment you're about to exit through the doors.

"(Y/N)."

At the sound of your voice, you turn to him with a questioning look on your face. "... yes?"

Miguel opens and closes his mouth like a fish for a couple of seconds before blurting out, "Are you free tomorrow evening?"

He scans your face for a reaction before surprise paints itself on your moonlit features. "I-I suppose I am," you nod slowly. "May I ask why?"

"Gabi is having a sleepover at one of her teammate's house," Miguel coughs out and shoves his hands into his pockets to hide their fidgeting.

"Do you need me to drop her off...?" you ask, clearly puzzled.

"No, um," he clears his throat again. "I was... I was actually wondering if you'd... if you'd like to check out that new restaurant that opened up on Clark..."

Regret pools in his mouth the second it falls from his lips and he begins to internally conjure some sort of half-assed lie, perhaps saying something along the lines of the company wanted him to review it for a potential cater in the future or that a friend of his worked there, but when he sights your eyes softening with the same warmth from earlier, he lets you take the reigns on fate.

"I'd quite like that," you murmur, a modest smile on your lips.

a/n ; i told you i was going to give into temptation. wrote this on a plane with no wifi on the way here (thank god for offline editing!)

anyways, i'm trying to squeeze this bit out before my plane ride tmrw since i've been travelling for the past week and a half! i'll be returning home soon where i can finally write to my heart's content, phew! i just reallyyyyy wanted to write something for miguel adjdjfkfalwf but fear not! we shall be back to our regularly scheduled program soon!

It had been a fairly normal day until everything flipped on its head in Manhattan. You’d been Spider-Woman for three years now and everyday came with its challenges. Managing bills piling up and dealing with the bizarre villains that popped up.

That’s New York for you.

You’d been swinging around casually on your day off from work. You swung around the corner of the Empire State Building when suddenly you noticed a flash of bright colors in the middle of the sky. Your eyes widened, what the hell?

The sky was literally glitching out. Well, this was new.

Then a sharp scream rang out and all of your senses lit up. A little girl flew through the mess of glitching colors and straight toward the ground.

You dove off the side of the building without hesitation and shot towards her. You quickly grabbed her into your arms and held her tightly to you. You shot a web out quickly to the closest building and swung towards the roof. The girl clung to you tightly and sobbed. Your heart clenched at the sight, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you kid.”

You landed on top of the building and looked back at the sky to find the glitch that the girl had fallen out of was gone now. You set the little girl down as she continued to cry. She looked to be around ten and had brown hair pulled into a ponytail.

You bent down to her level and placed a comforting hand on her back and rubbed it to soothe her, “Hey, what’s your name?”

She sniffed and took a shuddering breath, “Gabriella.”

You realized the mask wasn’t helping you to calm her down since she literally just dropped from a hole in the sky. You took a moment to nervously ponder whether taking it off was worth it.

“Are-Are you like Spider-Man? My dad is Spider-Man in my ho-home,” She said, wiping her tears away.

You felt relief flood you as you resigned to take your mask off. You pulled it from your head and smiled at her, “Yeah, my name is Y/N. They call me Spider-Woman here.”

She nodded and you could tell the similarity between you and her dad helped her relax. You sighed at the realization that you had no clue how to get her home.

“What’s your dad’s name?” You asked her and she shuffled back and forth on her feet.

“Miguel O’Hara,” She said softly.

You’d definitely never heard that name before. You had no clue how to get to another dimension and it was going to take a lot of brain power to get this girl home.

You smiled gently at her and squeezed her shoulder. Her scared eyes looked up at you, “I know this is all scary and confusing. I’m sorry you ended up here, but just know that your dad is doing everything he can to get back to you.”

“My dad calls me ‘todo su mundo’ it means ‘his whole world’. I miss him a lot,” She said and her eyes filled with tears again.

“Gabriella, I’m going to do everything I can to get you back to your dad, okay?” You said, trying to comfort her as much as you could.

You held your hand up with your pinky out and you caught the smallest smile on her face as she nodded and looped her pinky around yours. You stood up and sighed, “I think you should stay with me until I can find a way to get you to your dad. I live with my Aunt May and let me tell you, she makes the best cookies ever.”

Gabriella smiled as she looked up at you, “Really?”

You beamed at her and ruffled her hair, “Oh totally. She’s the best cook in Queens. She’ll make whatever you want I swear.”

You pulled the mask over your head and picked her up on your hip. She wrapped her arms around your neck and tucked her head into it. You held her tightly to you and shot a web before jumping off and heading towards Queens.

You hoped to god Miguel O’Hara was out there looking for his daughter too.

Three years had passed since you’d had any experience of the multiverse. Gabriella was now fourteen and a sophomore in high school. She was an extremely bright girl and excelled in school and sports. She was the star soccer player and you and Aunt May always attended her games to cheer her on, well when you could with Spider-Woman business.

Your search for how to get Gabi back to her universe had never come up with any leads. She had literally just dropped from the sky, like goddamn Chicken Little. There was no Miguel O’Hara in your universe either for you to try to rely on.

You wanted her to get back to her dad as you could tell it still ate her alive not knowing what happened to him. But, she had also become like a daughter to you.

The superhero life didn’t leave much time for relationships. How many people on earth would ever be able to understand how much sacrifice and hardship it took to protect the city each day? But, that girl did.

She understood how much her dad, and now you, had to sacrifice to keep the city safe. She was a great kid and you were happy for her to be in your life.

You were in the midst of having a movie night with her. You lounged next to her on the couch as she leaned against your shoulder.

“So, they just decided to make dinosaurs ‘cause they could? Isn’t that a stupid idea?” She questioned and you laughed.

“That’s kinda the whole point. Humanity is bound to destroy itself if given the chance,” You said with a shrug.

“The dinosaurs are a genetic disaster. It’s wrong to bring them back,” She said with a smirk and you threw a hand over your heart dramatically.

“Woah! From a genetic disaster themselves that is rude,” You teased her as your watch lit up.

You had crafted a watch to track crimes and keep you updated on the going ons of the city. Much better than a walkie talkie. You pulled your arm out from behind her shoulders and checked the notification, “Santa mierda.”

Gabi pointed at you and grinned, “Aunt May would have your head for that mom.”

You stood up from the couch and swore to yourself as you rushed to change into your suit.

“What’s wrong? Mom?” Gabi questioned as you sped back into the room in your full suit.

“Goblins out. He’s supposed to still be stuck in a maximum security cell in the Raft. I’ve gotta go before he tears up Manhattan,” You said as you moved over to her and grabbed her shoulders gently.

You smiled at her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “I love you mi ángel. I’ll be home when it’s done, but you need to stay here with May. It’s not gonna be safe in the city tonight.”

She nodded and pulled you into a tight hug. You sighed and rubbed her back to comfort her. You pulled away and smiled before pulling on your mask and rushing out the window.

You swung as fast as you could across the city. There’d been no reports of a break out from the Raft, so how the hell had he got free? You swung towards the Brooklyn Bridge as you saw bombs coming from the sight. You swore to yourself as you zipped towards the bridge and Green Goblin came into view.

What the hell? That was not the Green Goblin you knew.

He looked so weird. Almost like a devil or a guy in a strange Halloween costume. Either way that was not the guy locked up in the Raft.

“I don’t know who you are, but I already put one or your asses in the Raft,” You said as you swung towards him and landed a kick to his jaw.

He went flying and crashed into the wall behind him. He looked up and growled at you, “You’re not Peter Parker.”

You scoffed as you began to web him up, “No shit. Now can we hurry this up. I've got a movie night to get back to.”

You continued to fight this Goblin and you had him pinned down until you noticed a flash of bright lights above you. Your eyes widened as you noticed a portal opening up, just like the one that day.

“What the hell?” You said before Goblin shot a bomb at you and you flew backwards.

You smacked your head hard against the concrete and groaned, “It can never be easy.”

You pushed yourself up into a sitting position and watched three people come out of the portal. Your senses lit up and your head felt fuzzy until you realized that these people were Spider people as well. One woman rode in on a motorcycle, another came in with a guitar, and the last one was just an imposing man. They were quick to take down Goblin and contain him as you dusted yourself off and walked over. “So, are you guys Spider-Man too? I’m Y/N L/N.”

Goblin banged against his brightly colored cell as they turned to you. The woman smiled and folded her arms over her chest, “Yeah, I’m Jessica Drew. Spider-Woman too.”

She was very obviously pregnant and so much cooler than you. You grinned under the mask, “God it’s good to have another woman around. Y’Know basically all of my villains are guys. We gotta mix it up around here.”

She laughed at you and your eyes moved to the one with the guitar. He cocked his hip and chuckled, “Hobie Brown. Power to the people.”

You nodded and laughed, “I like it. Very anti-establishment of you.”

He nodded and folded his arms across his chest as your attention turned to the last one. He was a very tall and broad man in a futuristic blue suit. He stayed silent and you raised your brow, “What’s your name? Michael Myers?”

Jessica snorted and Hobie didn’t even bother to hide his laughter. The man grunted and folded his arms across his chest, “Miguel.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Miguel was a common enough name, but a Spider-Man named Miguel? You stepped closer to him, your heart pounding in your chest, “Last name?”

He obviously rolled his eyes even if you couldn’t see it with the mask, “What is this? An interrogation?”

You had hope that maybe he could be the dad your daughter had been searching for. You stepped closer and narrowed your eyes, “Last name.”

He stepped chest to chest with you and glared down, “O’Hara.”

You felt your heart stop and you stumbled back a few steps, “Holy fuck.”

You put your hands on your knees and closed your eyes as you tried to take calming breaths. This was your daughter's father. Gabi would have her dad again. You looked back up at him and rushed over and grabbed his arm, “Did you have a daughter?”

He physically recoiled at the question and stepped back, “What?”

No one had ever asked about his little girl. Few even knew that he had a daughter and now some random woman from a different universe was asking about her. Miguel glared down at you as his heart pounded against his chest.

You could practically see his defenses go up at your questioning, but you swallowed your fears and stepped towards him again, “Was your daughter named Gabriella? You called her ‘todo su mundo’.”

Miguel felt physically shaken by your words. His heart dropped to his stomach. There was no way. He’d seen her disappear from his arms. So, how did you know the nickname he had for his daughter?

Miguel rushed towards you and tightly grasped your arms,“How do you know that?”

You smiled under the mask and tears welled in your eyes at the knowledge that you had finally found her father. You grabbed his hands and squeezed them, “Because Gabi fell through a portal just like that three years ago. Your daughter is alive, Miguel.”

Miguel fell to his knees and began to cry. His daughter was alive and safe? He bent his head to the ground and clenched his fists as he tried to calm himself down.

You dropped to your knees next to him and placed a hand on his back and rubbed it, much like you’d always done for Gabi, “I’ve been taking care of her as my own for the last few years. You’d be so proud of the girl she’s grown up to be.”

Miguel sat up as he took deep breaths and he lifted his head to meet your eyes, “Thank you, for taking care of her.”

You smiled at his words. Gabi had been the best to ever happen to you. You sniffled as you did your best to hold your own tears back, “I’m grateful for her everyday.”

Miguel let out a shaky breath before he pushed himself to his feet. You quickly stood up and had to crane your neck to look up at him as he asked, “Can I see her?”

Your heart broke at the sight of him. This was a man who had clearly never stopped looking for his kid and he wanted her back. You looked around at the disaster around you and sighed before you met his eyes again, “I think it’s best to do this tomorrow. I need to talk to her and give her time to process this.”

Miguel looked ready to put up a fight at your words. You quickly grabbed his hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze, “I know you want to see her now, but she needs time and so do you. There’s no need to rush this.”

Miguel bit his lip to hold in his frustration at your words. He wanted everything to go great when he saw his daughter again and as upset as the thought made him- you knew her better now than he did. Miguel nodded and let go of your hands,“I understand.”

You smiled and let out a shaky breath, “I can take her to you tomorrow. Is there a way I can meet you?”

Miguel looked back and held his hand out. Jessica tossed a watch similar to your own and he caught it before offering it to you. You took the watch from him and slipped it onto your free wrist. He took your hand in his and pressed a button, “Hit this and scroll until you see Earth-928, that’s headquarters.”

You shook your head and laughed at his words, “Headquarters? This feels like S.H.I.E.L.D., like a super secret superhero club.”

Miguel shook his head at you, but secretly smiled to himself. If his daughter could have ended up with anyone, a witty Spider-Woman from another universe wasn’t the worst possibility.

“Open the portal and come there at eleven,” He said, quickly showing you how to do it yourself.

“It’s a date,” You said without thinking and your cheeks lit up.

Miguel watched you in amusement as you became clearly very embarrassed at your own words. You folded your arms across your chest defensively and cursed, “No! Not like that. Ah, mierda you know what I meant.”

Miguel laughed at you and felt a pull towards your demeanor. Like all of the other Spider-Men, aside from himself, you had a good sense of humor and for once it didn’t completely annoy him. Miguel softly smiled at you before he surprised even himself by pulling you into a tight hug.

Your cheeks lit up again because from everything you had picked up about him hugs were definitely not in his repertoire. His grumpy demeanor did not scream that he was a hug guy, so you were going to take this as a success. Miguel stepped back, remembering himself as he cleared his throat and looked down at you, “Thank you for taking care of my little girl.”

You smiled at him and nodded, “I love her as my own. I’ll talk to her tonight and get her ready, okay?”

Miguel nodded and you backed away as you checked to make sure Goblin was all taken care of. You smiled at the group and saluted them, “Thanks for taking care of that weirdo! Can’t have more Green Goblins running around.”

You looked at Miguel one last time before you shot a web and swung away. The whole trip home felt like a blur as you fretted about how she would respond. You were glad you had found her dad, but did this mean she’d never come back? Would she visit you still? Would Miguel be okay with you still being her mom? You were the only person she’d ever called mom.

You landed in an alley near your apartment and quickly changed out of the suit before heading home. You took the elevator up in your building and let out a sigh to calm yourself before you unlocked the door.

Gabi was sitting at the kitchen table working on a painting, but her head snapped to the door as she noticed you come in. You let out a sigh as you kicked your shoes off, “You didn’t have to wait up for me.”

She dropped her brush and rushed to your side and tackled you in a hug. You let out a sigh and smiled as you hugged her back, “Hey kiddo.”

She pulled away from you and you brushed her dark hair from her tired eyes, “Why’re you still up? It’s way past your bedtime.”

She rolled her eyes at your teasing, “Can’t I just be worried about my mom?”

You nodded and sighed, suddenly feeling the weight of having to tell her the news. You wrapped your arm around her shoulder and led her to the couch, “We need to talk hun.”

Gabi tensed at your words as you sat on the couch. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders as she asked, “Am I in trouble?”

You shook your head and squeezed her shoulder, “You know, I am grateful everyday that I get to be your mom and that you came into my life. I wouldn’t change anything for the world.”

Gabi leaned into your hold as her cheeks lit up and she smiled. You bit your lip to hold back the wave of emotion threatening to crash over you, “But I can’t imagine how hard it was for your dad to lose his daughter and for you to be away from him.”

Gabi quickly scrubbed at her eyes and nodded. You pulled away from her and put your hand on the side of her face as you tried to smile as comfortingly as possible, “Gabi, I found your dad.”

Her face paled and she grabbed onto you, “Mom- I don’t understand- what?”

You smiled comfortingly and you scooted closer to her, “I met your dad tonight. He came from your universe with a few other Spider-Men.”

She then broke down into tears and clutched onto you like a lifeline. You held her tightly to you as she sobbed. After a few minutes she looked up at you with puffy eyes, “Where is he? Why isn’t he here?”

You pushed her hair out of her eyes and squeezed her shoulder in support, “He wanted to angel, but I think you both needed time to process this. You’re getting your dad back and he’s getting his daughter.”

She nodded in understanding and you sent her a small smile, “Besides he was still in his suit and could probably use a shower before you had to give him tons of hugs. By the way, was he always a grump?”

Gabi laughed and nodded, “Yeah, he was always really grumpy with other people. But, it’s all a lie. He’s a softie.”

You smiled at her words, that made more sense rather than the stoic demeanor he put on. She looked at you hopefully, “When can I see him?”

“We’ll meet him in some Spider-Man HQ tomorrow at eleven. But if that’s too soon I can go and tell him you need time, just say the word,” You said as you tightened your hold around her shoulders.

“It’s not that. It’s just, when I go back to him will I still be able to see you? Of course I want to be with my dad, but you’re my mom too. I don’t wanna leave you,” she said as she tucked herself further into your side.

It was your biggest fear too. She was your kid now and you didn’t want to let her go either. You smiled wistfully and kissed her forehead, “Don’t worry about it tonight. We’ll figure everything out tomorrow, I swear.”

The next morning you and Gabi both nervously stood in the living room as it neared eleven. She fretted over herself as she fixed her hair again for the thousandth time. You smiled as you squeezed her shoulders and then pressed a kiss to the side of her head, “Don’t worry, he still loves you. You’re still todo su mundo, I promise love.”

She nodded and squeezed your hand on her shoulder, “Thanks, I love you mom.”

You took her hand into your own and smiled at her before pulling your mask over your face, “I love you too. Ready to go?”

She nodded and you held up your watch and pressed the button. You then scrolled to Earth-928 and hit the button to open a portal. A burst of colors appeared in front of you and you both looked at each other in awe. You squeezed her hand in yours before you both stepped into the portal.

You gripped your hand in yours as you tumbled through an inter dimensional tube. Then suddenly you both landed in a different universe. Your eyes quickly moved to Gabi and gave her a quick once over to make sure she was alright before turning your attention to the world around you.

Holy shit.

There were flying cars, buildings going into the clouds, and there were only spider people here. This place was filled to the brim with every kind of Spider Person you could possibly think of. Gabi had a look of wonder in her eyes as she looked around at the world in front of her.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Jessica standing there with a bright smile on her face. Jessica walked up to you and you smiled in relief, “Jessica. It’s good to see at least someone here that I know.”

She nudged your shoulder and laughed, “You can call me Jess. I think we’ll be seeing enough of each other that we’ll be friends.”

You nodded with a smile before her attention turned to Gabi and her eyes softened. She met your eyes again and you could see the sympathy in her eyes for what you were feeling, from one mom to another.

“Come on, I’ll take you to his place. He’s waiting for you two,” She said and then began walking further into HQ.

You both followed behind her as she led you through a maze of hundreds of different Spider People. You could tell Gabi was in awe of the sights around her, but her nerves were eating her alive. You held her hand tightly in your own to keep her grounded as you finally began to move away from the crowds.

You reached what looked like a residential wing of sorts as Jess led you into the elevator and hit the button for the top floor. The ride to the top gave you a great view of this world, but you were nervous for Gabi to meet her dad. She was still a kid when he last saw her and now she was growing into an amazing young woman.

The elevator reached the top and you came face to face with the door to his apartment. Jess stayed in the elevator, but gave you both a comforting smile, “Good luck.”

You nodded in thanks before you both walked up to the door. You squeezed Gabi’s hand and she looked up at you, “I’ve got you. No matter what happens next.”

She nodded and you dropped her hand to let her do this on her own. You pulled your mask from your head and shoved it in your pocket as she raised her hand and knocked on the door. The door swung open and Miguel stood in front of you now with no suit and in casual clothes.

He looked so much like his daughter.

Gabi’s eyes watered as she reached out for him, “Dad? Is it really you?”

Miguel nodded, clearly choked up, “Gabi, my little girl, look at you.”

Gabi burst into tears and jumped into her dads awaiting arms. Miguel pulled her into his arms and held his daughter to him.

This made everything worth it. Gabi finally had her dad back. You’d done it.

They continued to hug for a while until Miguel let out a half laugh and sob as he looked at his daughter, “God, look at you. You’re a beautiful young woman now.”

Gabi smiled at her dad as she wiped away her tears, “And now you’re old and grumpy.”

Miguel laughed at his daughter and clearly this was the happiest he’d been in years. Miguel finally moved his eyes to you and you felt a little out of place being here. Gabi reached towards you and grabbed your hand and pulled you forward, “Dad, this is my mom, Y/N. She’s been there for me ever since I landed in her universe.”

You met Miguel’s eyes and you both seemed to stop.

Wow, he was really good looking.

The intimidating demeanor he had previously only added to your attraction. He had dark tousled hair and a jawline that looked like it was cut by the gods.

Miguel was taken aback by you. Out of all of the thousands of Spider People he’d recruited, none of them held a candle to you. You were beautiful. You were a kind person and a good one. Oh he was in for it.

“Hey Miguel. Nice to see you without the mask and everything,” You said, trying to keep your embarrassment to a minimum.

Miguel nodded and you swore his own cheeks looked a little pink, “Thanks again, for everything.”

Gabi looked between the two of you with a mischievous look written all over her face. You narrowed your eyes at her, oh god what was she up to. Miguel opened the door to his apartment and you followed Gabi in and she looked around in wonder at all the futuristic technology.

His apartment didn’t seem homey. It was huge, but it was lonely. It was missing his daughter.

You looked around as Gabi and Miguel sat down to talk when you noticed a picture of Miguel and a little girl. You walked over to the frame and picked it up. The picture was of Gabi as a little girl shoving an ice cream cone into Miguel’s face as he smiled lovingly at your daughter.

“Do you have any pictures of her as a baby?” You blurted out without thinking.

You turned to face them and Miguel had an eyebrow raised at you. You flushed, slightly embarrassed for just speaking without thinking as Miguel sat next to Gabi with his arm around her shoulders.

“I’ve always wondered what she looked like as a baby. Y’know since I’ve never seen her that young,” You said and Gabi rolled her eyes.

“Mom, you’re just gonna use those to embarrass me,” Gabi teased you with a smile.

You set the frame down and went over to her and pressed a kiss to her, “I’m pretty sure that’s in the job description.”

“Yeah, I’ve got them back here,” Miguel said as he stood and began walking down the hallway.

You quickly followed after him then he suddenly stopped in front of a closet. You stumbled into him and he grabbed your arm to stabilize you. You met his eyes and bit your lip and shyly stepped away, “Sorry.”

Miguel opened the closet and reached into the back and pulled out two large scrapbooks. He placed the old large scrapbooks in your hands and you smiled up at him, “Can’t say I would’ve chalked you up as the scrapbooker type. I’m very impressed.”

Miguel shut the door and leaned against it, “Well, I’m a single dad what can I say. There’s plenty you don’t know about me.”

“Well at least one of her parents has to be good at it. I can hardly do anything creative that isn’t tech related. Worst soccer mom ever,” You said as you pulled the books to your chest.

Miguel smiled at you.

What? It was a smile just for you, but kind of in a teasing way? He was way too hot to be doing things like this. You were starting to get mixed signals from him. First he was stoic and grumpy and now he was charming and making scrapbooks.

He was also your daughter's father. That made everything far more complicated.

“Thanks Miguel,” You said before you headed back to the living room and sat down next to Gabi.

She leaned into your shoulder and whispered, “He’s totally into you.”

Your eyes widened and you checked to make sure Miguel was still in the hallway. You pressed a finger to her mouth and shook your head, “Nope. Nada. Zip. Don’t even start on this.”

Miguel sat down on her other side and the two began talking as you tried to keep your heated cheeks from view. You opened the book in front of you and began to look through it. There were so many photos of her as a baby and you couldn’t help but to feel devastated at the possible loss of your daughter.

Why would Miguel let her stay with you? How was she supposed to manage traveling through different universes and maintain a normal teenage life?

You flipped through the pages, holding your bottom lip firmly between your teeth in fear of losing the best thing you’d ever had. You wanted her to have a relationship with her dad, but that didn’t mean you wanted her gone forever.

You gently set the books on the table after flipping past a picture of Gabi as a little girl with a replica of her dad’s mask pulled over her head. You stood from your spot on the couch and mustered up your best smile, but not meeting either of their eyes, “Sorry, I just need some air.”

“Mom? You okay?” Gabi asked with a worried voice.

You knew if you met her eyes you’d lose all of your self control and burst into tears. You nodded and headed towards the balcony door, “Yeah, I just need a minute.”

You opened the door, shot a web, and pulled yourself to the roof. You let out a shaky breath as you plopped onto the roof and looked out at the city. Pulling your knees to your chest, you rested your chin on your knees and looked out at Nueva York. This universe was beautiful.

The city always calmed you, but now it was a reminder of everything you could lose.

Some time had passed when you heard a thwip similar to your own and there was a thud on the roof behind you. You closed your eyes in anticipation of the bad news Miguel was about to bring you. He quietly sat next to you at the edge of the roof and hung his feet over the ledge.

“She’s worried about you,” Miguel said, looking over at your tense form.

You bit your lip and shook your head, “I’m okay.”

“Tell me about her,” He asked, looking out at the sun setting over the city.

You tried to keep your sniffles at bay as you spoke, “She’s incredibly smart and way too intuitive for her own good.”

Miguel chuckled at your words and you moved your eyes to him as he said, “She always got into trouble when she was little because she was like that.”

You smiled softly at his words and let your knees hang over the edge, “She gets in trouble in some of her classes because she outsmarts her teachers. Can’t be mad at that.”

Miguel watched as you began to open up and relax as you talked about Gabi. You were too good for anything he deserved, but maybe you were meant to be here with him. Maybe Gabi was meant to bring you together.

Maybe the rules of the multiverse were a little more lenient than he thought.

“She’s a super talented soccer player. She still young, but some college scouts have been watching her play and showed interest. She’s just a great kid. You raised an amazing daughter,” You said, looking at him with a smile.

He bumped your shoulder with his own as his lips slightly curled up, “You did too y’know.”

Your eyes slightly widened at his words and your voice caught in your throat, “I-I’m glad you can be together again. I really am.”

“But?” He asked, his dark eyes seeing through your walls.

Tears welled up, but you blinked quickly to get them to go away, “But I don’t want to lose her either. She’s my daughter now too.”

He stayed quiet as you began to ramble, “I know being outside of your universe can mess things up, but she’s been fine. She never glitched or had any issues in my universe. Don’t you think that’s a sign-“

“That she could be a part of both of our universes,” Miguel finished for you and you nodded.

Miguel swallowed down his own nerves and placed his hand on yours and gently squeezed it, “I just want her to be happy. I don’t think taking her away from her mom would do that.”

Your heart leapt at his words as you gripped his hand, “Seriously? You’d be okay with splitting time with me?”

Miguel chuckled and smiled at you, “I don’t think splitting is the right word. I’m thinking more along the lines of figuring this out together.”

Your cheeks lit up and you smiled at him, “I’d like that. We can finally be the PTA parents she alway deserved.”

You and Miguel shared a moment where you just looked at one another and things began to change. You were going to figure out this parenting thing together.

“Are you guys done being sappy up there! I’m getting bored down here,” Gabi shouted from Miguel’s apartment.

The two of you shared a look and laughed at your daughter. Miguel shook his head as he called out, “You’re in the clear.”

You heard metal clinging as Gabi climbed to the top of the fire escape and hopped onto the roof. She smiled at you and Miguel sitting next to each other as she walked over and plopped herself between you two. She grabbed both of your hands into her own and looked at you both, “We’re a team, right? The whole solo superhero thing is such a bad idea. We work better together.”

You both shared a look before laughing at her. You brushed some hair behind her ear, “We’re a team. But that still doesn’t mean you get to be the guy in the chair for either of us.”

Gabi rolled her eyes and looked to her dad, “You gonna defend me here?”