#If you're still reading this you get a hint of what my next drawing might be

[thatnonameuser]

The Red King holds a Bleeding Head

A Wonderland of Yanderes - Masterlist Chapter 1. Heartslaybul Part 4.

When things do not go well, they continue to not go well.

This is the feared Dorm Head Riddle Rosehearts. This abridged story's Red Queen, the Rose-Red Tyrant. And to you the most frightening title of all, the Head of a Dorm full of controlling yanderes.

Ace wasn't very smart. That was the first thing. Rule of thumb, don't bad mouth someone when you haven't checked first to make sure they aren't around.

Second thing, of all the ways to officially meet Riddle Rosehearts, this was had to be the worst way. Immediately after Ace's smear campaign. Are you unlucky? You feel unlucky.

Well, here we are, no turning back now.

Whatever you do next, it's all based on Riddle's reaction to Ace's stupidity. Riddle's face is tight in a scowl, arms tightly crossed and you can feel the glare going through Ace right now. Let's hope this doesn't end with an actual beheading.

Cater jumps in to damage control, "Hey Riddle! What's shakin', pal." That was so forced, it might as well have been written by a computer, and not said by a chronically online person. "You're lookin' adorbs, as always!"

Riddle's scowl softens, maybe there's hope. "Hmph, Cater, keep running that mouth and you'll lose it - along with the rest of your head." Nope, no there isn't. When was there ever? Riddle's face may have softened but his temper sure hadn't. Is he always like this?

How can he so casually threaten doing the magician's equivalent of an amputation for an greeting he didn't like!? Maybe your plan was doomed from the start. Does this guy even have friends?

Still, you're not trying to actually be friends. You're looking for allies to use in cases of emergencies. So you'll bite your tongue.

"Sorry, sorry! My bad!" Cater shuts up, faster than you ever seen him so far.

Grim probably seem can't read the room, because he tries to square up with the magic severing Dorm Head with a fuse shorter than Grim himself. "Myah?! You're the guy who put that stupid collar on me at the orientation ceremony!"

Riddle doesn't miss a beat, and throws it back at your foolish feline friend. "And you're the new students who were nearly expelled earlier this week. I'll ask that you not refer to my signature spell as a 'stupid collar" Ok, shitty start so far.....

He glares directly at you next, and you hadn't even said anything yet! "The headmaster's habit of tolerating rulebreakers like you is going to send this entire campus spiraling into chaos one day." You tighten your jaw around your the tip of your tongue. Don't say anything. Just don't say anything.

"Those who break the rules should have their heads removed immediately, without exception." You can taste blood in your mouth, but you won't say a word against his little slander rant. Even if Ace and Grim are sending this plan downhill at the speed of an avalanche, you will persevere.

Unlike you, Ace doesn't seem to know when to shut his big fat mouth, because even after that, and how this conversation started in the first place, he doesn't shut up, "Dude, seriously? This guy looks like a wimp but he sounds like a monster," You hear Ace hiss under his breath. You only hope Riddle didn't hear it.

This polite insult-laden speech finally draws to a close. "The headmaster may have forgiven you, but if you break any further rules, I assure you I will not."

Ace, pulling the idiot card from the deck once again, chooses now to get his collar off his neck. Perfect. "So, uh, listen, Dorm Leader, sir..." Off to a wonderful start, Ace. "Any chance i could get you to remove this collar?"

The response wasn't a surprise. It was expected, really, "I had intended to remove it once you'd taken an opportunity to reflect upon your crimes," So, no. Yay, Ace is stuck in your dorm tonight...."But I've not detected so much as a hint of remorse in the foolishness I've heard you spout today. So I think I'll let you keep that for a while." Saw that coming a mile away.

You tune out the reassurance that he offers regarding school life, more concerned with the fact Ace will be alone with you tonight, again.

"Now, if you've finished your meal, you should quit gossiping and prepare for your next class. Rule 271 is quite clear: One must leave the table within five minutes of completing their lunch."

There are over two hundred rules...? You'd scanned the first fifty rules of the Queen of Hearts, before stopping under the reasonable belief that no one actually followed these insane rules. Was that too much to hope for?

This time his ire is pointed directly at Ace, "You DO understand what happens to rulebreakers I trust?"

Ace sighs, "More insane rules...."

Riddle's eyebrow twitches in irritation, "I believe you mean to say, 'Yes, Dorm Leader!'"

"Yes Dorm Leader," Ace and Deuce yell, and you felt nearly compelled. He's like a dictator threatening his troops.

"Very well then."

Trey tries to calm Riddle down, "Don't worry I'll keep an eye on them."

Riddle eyes Trey with skepticism, "Hmm. As Vice Dorm Leader, I trust you'll avoid any further indiscreet conversation."

Trey is the Vice? Why didn't he tell you guys? Is he trying to hide something. Or, is he trying to separate himself from a certain tyrannical dictator.

Riddle seems satisfied now that he's said, read ordered, his piece. "Now, as per rule 339: The post-meal beverage is to be lemon tea with two sugar cubes. Thus I must go acquire my sugar cubes. Farewell." As he walks away you can hear him mutter under his breath, "Don't even get me started on their violation of running out of sugar cubes....!" Is he ever happy? If you can nitpick every single detail and violation then how do you find any joy in your life? No wonder he's such a jerk to his own dorm mates.

Is it even possible to get him to forgive you? Much less befriend you?

"Yeesh!" Cater exclaims, "That was terrifying."

"That guy......has some serious issues." says Grim. "I don't think serious is enough of a word to describe this...." You agree.

"Hey, we shouldn't disrespect him.." Deuce sounds like wants to agree with you but can't.

You shake your head. "I don't think we're the only ones who think that your Dorm Leader is a bit nuts." You can hear the fearful murmurs of some other Heartslabyul students, relieved that Riddle didn't collar them.

Cater and Trey don't argue against your claim, and that speaks enough in itself. Two upperclassmen are too afraid to even deny what you had said. Trey's smile now feels forced as he explains, "Riddle managed to secure the Dorm Leader title before the end of his very first week at school. I know he can come off a bit harsh, but-"

You cut him off, "Trey, no offense but over half of your dorm mates are cowering in fear because Riddle walked over here. I don't think he comes off a bit harsh. I think he is harsh."

"I know....but" But it doesn't seem like even he believes that, "he's not a bad guy inside. Everything he does, he does because he thinks it'll improve the dorm."

"Would a good guy go around putting collars on strangers' necks?" Trey and Cater laugh awkwardly but they can't deny it. So Grim actually is right.

"So what's this signature spell he mentioned?"

"Hm? You're curious about Riddle's signature spell?"

"That means, like.....it's a spell that only he can cast, right?"

"I doubt he's the only person in the whole world....But yes, a signature spell is a magical ability that is, generally speaking, unique to its user." It might be best you remember this. If there's magic unique to the user, could that magic be dangerous against you? Riddle's own seals off magic, so you're not in immediate danger thanks to that. But you still don't know about the rest of the Heartslabyul students you know. What exactly is their Unique Magic? Does Grim have one?

"Which is why all of us at Heartslabyul House try hard not to violate Riddle's rules." But back to the present issue, Riddle's magic sounds terrifying to magic users. So that does explain why Heartslabyul lives in fear.

"And as long as you are following the rules, Riddle isn't so scary." And that's all you needed to know. If he is kinder to those who follow the rules, then you just had to be a teacher's pet, or a dorm leader's pet. Wait, that sounds wrong either way.

"Speaking of which- are you still not gonna let me into the dorm until I buy a tart, Cater?"

"Don't @ me, but yeah. That's rule 53, so my hands are tied."

"Isn't that taking this too far? Sure, Ace stole something but he still lives in that dorm. Kicking him out is too harsh of a punishment."

"Riddle really looks forward to having the first slice of a tart. So he won't forgive you unless you come back with a whole tart."

Perfect. So all you have to do is find a tart and all will be well. You're starting to realise that that is a whole lot of fat chance served on a plate. Maybe Ace will steal it, and cut you a break.

But as it turns out, Ace is flat broke, so he can't just go buy a tart to replace it with. You would happily just go buy one to save your own ass, but Crowley (the bastard) is yet to give you any money.

Thankfully, Trey offered a solution that would work, make a tart on the cheap and give that to Riddle. You also learned he was a talented baker, which sounds like something you might take advantage of in the future but priorities.

You hope that the tart plan does work, because if you have to do an entire run around for a honestly exhausting wild tart chase is becoming very annoying...

"Riddle wants a chestnut tart next, so I'm gonna need you to gather a ton of chestnuts."

"Like that's any less of a hassle. But.....fine. How many do you need?"

"Well, it's for the unbirthday party, so....Probably two or three hundred?" You choke on your own spit.

"S-Sorry, HUNDRED!?" You splutter.

"And they're all gonna need to be boiled, shelled and pureed." What you do to get Ace out of your house. It may seem that easy to just make a tart and be forgiven, but with how complicated this whole thing had been so far, things will probably be more difficult.

Whatever you have Grim and Deuce to help-

"Alright, I'm gonna head out." "I'm leaving too."

Why are you even surprised. You would have done the same really.

"You heartless cowards!" Ace objects from the abandonment and betrayal. But to be honest, considering he caused this whole mess because he couldn't keep his fingers out of someone's tarts, and the fact he exposed you to another obsessive psycho, you really want to leave him to his own devices.

Before you can jump in with a BS-laden speech to persuade them Cater thankfully jumps in. "Hold up! Haven't you ever heard that food tastes better if you make it with your friends? This'll be a memory to treasure! It could even be your chance to make a splash as a cooking blogger!"

Trey even proves useful, "Don't tell Riddle, but chestnut tarts are at their tastiest when eaten right out if the oven.. And the only people who get to experience that culinary privilege are the ones who make it."

That's enough to convince Grim, "Well, when you put it that way...Come on, humans, let's do this!"but you doubt that's the same for Deuce. But where you'll go, he'll follow.

"I'm only helping because it will mean you're back in your dorm sooner, Ace. You gonna help, Deuce?"

Deuce smiles at you. "S-Sure, Prefect." You're starting to get the hang of this.

Later, you'd focus on Ace's apology tart. Right now, you'd focus on your own. The apology, not the tart part.

After getting the cut in your tongue treated, you'd asked Ace and Deuce to go to class with Grim without you to get something private done. They'd both pushed to go with you but you managed to shut that down.

With what you had planned, you needed Ace, Deuce and Grim away from you. To prevent any unwanted incidents like accidentally sending Riddle off in an angry fit.

You had a plan, so you just needed to start that plan.

So here you were back in the cafeteria, searching for a head of red hair and there he was sipping a cup of lemon tea with exactly two sugars, if you remembered the rules right, completely alone with only thick tomes for company.

You don't bother yourself worrying about the implications of the him sipping tea all on his lonesome. That's not your priority right now.

You tap Riddle's shoulder, "Excuse me? Riddle Rosehearts, was it?" you say as politely as possible.

He first gives you a look of chagrin, only for it to relax when he realises that you're alone. "You are correct. Have you come to cause more trouble and break more rules?"

His suspicion is warranted, but you've prepared for that. "Actually, I'm here to apologize to you specifically for all the trouble I caused." His eyes widen in surprise. He wasn't expecting that. Alright, here we go. "May I sit with you?" You say, allowing a small smile grace your lips.

He snaps out of his surprise at your question, but he doesn't reject you. After a few moments of silence, he finally says, "I-I'll allow it." He motions to the empty seat in front of him, and you accept the seat with another smile and a word of thanks.

Alright, step one of the potentially dangerous plan, apologise the the Heartslabyul Dorm Leader. "I'm sorry about bothering you like this. I'm sure you'd rather spend the time around your friends rather than a troublemaker."

He doesn't answer for a few seconds, "I'd rather spend my time in solitude than in the company of troublemakers," he responds. Does he not have friends? That answer makes you feel that the answer to the question is a yes. "However, you wish to apologise for your violations, so I'll humor your presence." Ok, so far so good. "Well, I should get the apologies out the way. I'm sorry about all the trouble I've caused since I've been here. Grim during the ceremony, accidentally damaging the Great Seven statues and destroying the chandelier. I hadn't meant to."

Riddle frowns, setting aside his teacup to cross his arms, "One should not apologise whilst making excuses." he recites as if he'd heard or said that a thousand times. He really is a stickler for the rules.

"What rule of the Queen of Hearts is that?" You ask, with how many there are you really need to remember them.

He shakes his head, "It isn't one. It's one of my mother's." Let's not touch that, insulting someone's mother is the fastest way to piss someone off.

You take a deep breath before continuing, "Well, then I'm also sorry for making excuses for my behaviour. I hope you can forgive me."

Riddle's silent for another few seconds, as if contemplating the validity of your apology. You feel yourself stop breathing in anticipation.

Finally, he answers, "It's rare for a troublemaker to be genuinely repentant, so I'll accept your apology. However, I won't be as forgiving should you choose to continue breaking the rules." So he is capable of forgiving troublemakers, that means Ace will eventually be back in his own dorm.

"Thank you." you let out a sigh of relief. Alright, time for stage two. Suck up like the worst kind of teacher's pet, "If you don't mind me asking, could you maybe teach about the rules of the Queen of Hearts?"

Riddle chokes on a sip of his tea, and looks at you in incredulity "Y-You what?"

"I want you to teach me about the rules of the Queen of Hearts, so if I ever break any of them I can't use ignorance as an.....excuse?" You trail off as you find Riddle completely stunned, has this never happened before? Has no one bothered to ask him to help them learn the rules so they could avoid breaking them?

"W-Well, it seems you really are trying to atone for your mistakes. If that is the case, then yes." He pauses, before offering you a cup of tea, smelling of sweet citrus, " Would you like some?"

If it's lemon, you don't want to drink it. The citric acid in the lemon will burn your tongue like hell. But there are unfortunately rules. "Are they any rules that say whether I can say yes or no?" You're not failing if this is a test.

Riddle smiles at you, "You learn quickly, Rule 114, One must never reject a cup of tea from the Queen." You, against your better judgement, accept it and take a sip and the tea burns the cut on your tongue but you force it down nonetheless. In the name of Future you's safety you would do what you had to. As long as it goes down without objection, you'll drink as fast as you can to dull the burn.

"Perhaps there is hope for you, even with that unignorable violation." Riddle says and you hesitate in your next sip.

"And what is that?" You ask, before taking another mouthful of tea.

He spares a few glances around as if looking for any eavesdroppers before dropping his voice into a hushed whisper, "That you are a darling attending Night Raven."

You choke, how does everyone keep knowing?! "H-How did you know?!" You ask, your voice barely a whisper.

"I was taught to recognise all the traits your kind has as soon as I was registered." How many of those were there?! Besides all the darlings here can't be exactly like you, that would just be impossible. Right?

Riddle continues, "That and you remind me of my father, kind and bubbly when you are surrounded by people you do think are trustworthy and jumpy and frightful when you think you are surrounded by those you don't. Subtly is not exactly your strong point."

You deflate like a balloon. You carefully set down the teacup before it breaks in your hands. "Are...Are you going to tell anyone?"

He shakes his head, "No, and while I feel your presence at this school is a travesty that Crowley has allowed to happen, you attempting to hide your identity keeps the members of my dorm from killing each other. You must understand it is quite difficult to mix paint in manner that hides the smell of blood." They kill people and mix their blood with the paint. Oh, shit, did...did you paint with blood earlier!?

"So I suggest you figure out how to circumvent your little issue." He finishes.

But that's impossible thanks to that stupid law, "But how do I do that if I can't access any of the things you can?" You ask.

"Your testing papers, all darlings have the legal right to see them after their registered. Headmaster Crowley should be able to give them to you if you request them. You'll be able to tell with those." Riddle gives you the first answer that actually helps you.

All you need to get Crowley to give you those papers and you'll be free to figure out how to save your skin.

You sag in relief, finally some good news. And then you remember, "Wait, why are you helping me?"

"Because it will keep you out of trouble. Speaking of, I expect your attendance at the unbirthday party tomorrow, so that I can keep an eye on you."

"Thank you." You whisper, for once you actually feel relieved. You were wrong about earlier it seems, he isn't as bad as you though he was.

"Now, Rule 71 of the Queen of Hearts states that one must never arrive on time, always early. You should leave now, before the bell rings." You nod, rising from your seat as he does the same.

"Thank you for everything. See you tomorrow, " You say with a smile before turning heel.

If only you hadn't failed to see how his face flushed and how he grabbed his heart as you left.

The woodland behind campus were surprisingly bright and vibrant, like a painting you would see in picture books, even with the change seasons coming up. As it seems the chestnut season is equally vibrant, as hundreds upon hundreds of chestnuts covered the forest floor. But the chestnut spines were too much of a bother to ignore, so here you were in the Botanical Garden looking for a basket and some work gloves.

The gardens are stunning, full of life and thousands of plants. Some you recognise, some you don't. The whole building is enormous. Finding anything here is like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Which means you have to split up to find what you need. "We should split up, we'll cover more ground that way."

Ace and Deuce open their mouths to object, "But-"

You're not wasting any time on them coming with you and taking longer. Besides having two bodyguard/friends feels a little suspicious.

"We're going to spend the rest of the night making tarts, we don't exactly have time to waste..." You argue and they don't fight back against this.

".....Sure. Dibs on the right side."

"Then how about I go left, while Prefect and Grim go straight ahead?"

"Sounds good, we'll meet up here at the entrance in 10."

You immediately regretted your decision to split up, as Grim got distracted every ten seconds by all the ripe, sweet smelling fruit. So you spent the five minutes that you were supposed to spend looking for a groundsman, chasing after your 'boss'.

"Hey, come take a look at this!" Grim runs to another bright, ripe fruit. "There's a ton of fruit growing here! Smells like they're ripe."

You grab his tiny body and yank him away from the fruit on the tree. "Grim, we're supposed to find a groundsman, not snacks!" You don't recognise any of the plants in this section. They all look mystical, but that doesn't mean safe. "Don't pick anything."

Grim wriggles loose to run to chase after another bright and shiny fruit. The grasses here are tall enough to reach your waist, and Grim disappears into the long stalks, "Grim. Stop!" Grim doesn't listen to you. "Don't pick anything!" You yell out as you wade through the tall grasses after him.

You stumble over the lush stalks of grass. It's so thick that you can't see your own feet. You hope there aren't any animals-

"Ngh!" A groan of pain fills the air and you feel something underfoot slip out and you reflexively take a few steps back. That didn't sound like an animal...

"Did I just step on something?" You think aloud, looking around for a source as a nearby patch of grass starts to rustle.

"Hey! You got some nerve steppin' on my tail and just walkin' away!" To your surprise, someone rises out of the grass, and he looks angry. Crap.

Originally, your brain had failed to compute the 'tail' part of what he'd said, but it's obvious to you now that you see his ears. He's a beastman. And he's wearing the Savanaclaw colours. Wait, didn't Cater say that Savanaclaw students like fighting. Shit.

"I-I'm sorry!" You say immediately, taking a few more steps backwards. You feel compelled to run.

"Tch. Ain't nothin' worse than bein' in the middle of a good nap and havin' some jerk step on your tail." Ok, no. He's the one who decided to sleep in waist high grass. Be mad at yourself for your bad decision making, buddy.

Despite how you feel, "It was an accident...." is what you mumble instead, but he doesn't seem to care, instead he stalks towards you, with a smirk on his face. "You.....I know you. You're that herbivore from orientation who couldn't use magic."

"What did you call me?!" You demand, outraged. He still ignores you, and he leans forward and..."And why are you smelling me?!"

He ignores you, pulling away with that punchable smirk. "Huh. It's true. You don't smell of magic at all."

"Did you miss the part where the mirror said that to everyone?!" You can feel yourself losing every ounce of your patience. You'd felt apologetic for accidentally stepping on his tail and waking him up, but this guy was being such a jerk, you no longer found it within yourself to care.

"Well, well, well, the little herbivore thinks she has claws. Can't say it'd be much fun to hurt someone like you. Still gonna do it, though."

"Do what?" You spit through gritted teeth. You clench and unclench your fists.

"No one gets to stomp on my tail and just walk away without payin' the price."

Ok, that's fucking it. You aren't a weak darling, and all the earlier rage and anger that you've felt in the last two days.

"Then maybe don't sleep in waist-high grass, and maybe in your dorm next time? That way no one will step on your tail" You say as sarcastically as possible.

"Hm? Herbivore, I'm afraid you're all bark and no bite." Oh? All bark and no bite, mystery animal man? Let's see how he bites your fist when it flies into his-

You tighten your fist before taking a swing aimed at his jaw. With his face so close to yours, he has no way of moving out of the way in time-

He stops your fist just shy of his face. He gives you an unimpressed look, before replacing it with that fucking smirk. He laughs at you, like you were foolish to even think that would work. His grip on your wrist is so tight that you wince as you struggle to twist it away.

"L-Let me go!" He laughs at your pathetic struggles to free yourself.

"Pathetic, like a mouse trying to kill a lion." He's a lion? Well then, what an arrogant asshole he is.

You struggle fruitlessly for a few more moments, before giving up. "Fuck you." You spit.

"You're a brave herbivore, I'll give you that. Still," His already tight grip feels like it's crushing the bones in your wrist. "You woke me up from my nap, that'll cost you a tooth."

"Fine. Take it." You hiss. Maybe you can get him in trouble for darling abuse or something after this. Would Crowley take you to a dentist?

"Leona! There you are!"

"Heh?" Leona turns to someone, and you follow his gaze to another beastman student, wearing the colours from the same house Leona is. His cocky, arrogant face tightens in annoyance.

The new mystery beastman looks like he's spent the time since last bell chasing down Leona. "I knew I'd find you here! We got after-school classes today, remember?"

Leona groans. "And now, I've got this guy on my tail...." You can hear him mutter.

You take the chance to do something stupid, rewarding in the moment but still stupid. Ah, whatever you only live once.

"What's wrong, Carnivore? Too afraid to bite?" You taunt, throwing his own words around and right back at him.

He glares at you. But the beastman speaks up before Leona can actually break your wrist. "Leona, you've already had to repeat one year. If you get held back again, we'll be in the same grade." You snort from repressed laughter, trying to hold back your laughter before the person holding your wrist captive decides killing you is better just breaking your wrist.

"Oh, put a sock in it already. I'm tired of all yer yappin', Ruggie."

Ruggie frowns, "Look, you think I like always being on your case? C'mon man. You act like it'd be hard for you. You could skate through life if you'd just TRY. Come on! Let's go already!"

Leona finally releases your wrist and you wince as blood returns to your fingers. "Hmph...Herbivore, you better not cross me again."

"Oh, I'll be sure not to." You turn, and walk as confident as possible through the tall prairie grass back into the fruit trees.

It was nice to actually be in control for once.

You eventually find Grim half finished eating a dozen multi-coloured unknown fruit. You don't feel as mad as you were earlier. So you don't bother with the scolding that you originally planned on giving him. Instead you scoop him up like a bag a rice.

"Nyeh?!" Grim exclaims in surprise, "Henchman, where'd you come from?!"

"Nowhere, I thought you already ate your weight in lunch earlier?"

Two familiar voices fill your ears.

"Yo, guys, we found the baskets and gloves."

"Prefect, what in the world happened to you?" And you smile.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

You feel a little better now.

You feel worse now.

Not in a bad mood, just tired. A sleepless night would do that, then harvesting about three hundred chestnuts on your hands and knees plus hauling them back to the communal kitchens.

And now here you stood struggling to peel the soft skins of the chestnuts.

Deuce and Grim are lucky because they have the magic that Trey showed them to magically and quickly peel them, but you, a poor magicless human, must fiddle with sticky skins. Ace, forced to do this the old fashioned way, is struggling equally with the much higher pile that he'd been delegated for getting you all into this mess.

Still, it was actually fun to see the 'friendly' competition Ace and Deuce went through as Ace struggled to keep up with the magical efficiency.

Problem was, you were so much slower.

"Need any help?" Trey asks. He'd stopped supervising Deuce with his peeling. And he's looking at you with"You look like your having a hard time."

"Yeah...I've never really done this before...." You reply, still fiddling with the finicky skins.

"Here." He places his hands over your own, directing your fingers into a proper hold. "Like this." You can feel his chest against your back, his head over one of your shoulders. He smells nice, like a bakery right after the oven is opened and the sweet aroma of warm pastries has filled the air. The shell holding the nut finally gives way, done with your hands and guided by Trey's.

"Thanks", you say with a smile.

"It's no problem", he returns with his own smile. "Do you want help with the others?" He feels friendly, and you can't see that glint. Maybe it's his glasses.

"Sure." You respond.

With Trey's help, you start to fly through the pile of chestnuts that you'd once struggled to peel. You can actually keep up with Ace and Deuce in their chestnut peeling, being only a few dozen behind.

It's like painting the roses earlier, you like the serenity that you feel as you do this. The same when you were straining, and pureeing. Despite the fact you were willingly unwillingly roped into this, it's actually quite relaxing maybe you could talk to Trey about teaching you.

After what had to be a good two hours, straining and pureeing three hundred chestnuts, Ace finally groans in relief "There! Finally got 'em all pureed!"

"My arm is killing me..."

"Well at least it's over.." You agree as you massage the ache in your forearms. Deuce and Ace actually did most of the work for you, but you still tried to help. And now your arms hurt more than your legs.

"Nice work. It'll be all the sweeter for your pain!"

"Are you sure about that?" You say with a laugh. But seriously, your muscles hurt. It better be sweet for all the work that it better be.

"The smell alone already has me droolin'." You manage to grab Grim before he sticks his paws into the puree. You're not letting everyone's hard work to waste.

"I just need to add butter and sugar to the chestnut paste, and a sensible splash of oyster sauce- that's my secret ingredient." Oh, cool then you'll be done soon. Wait...

Your brain fills in the blanks. "Did you just say oyster sauce?" You say in utter disbelief. Maybe Trey shouldn't teach you how to bake....

"Yep. The umami of the oysters gives the cream a deep, savory flavor." He can't be serious, can he? Are desserts different here? Because last you checked a sweet dessert wasn't supposed to taste like salt.

"I use this one here: Walrus-brand Young Oyster Sauce. All the best bakers use it in their tarts." Your brain tunes him out in utter disbelief. Was this place just completely fucked? Because you'd have to dig through the mold on the underside of the barrel to actually find this madness. It's not the scariest thing or the most insane thing you heard in this misadventure, but an insane thing nonetheless.

Deuce actually seems to believe him, at least a little, "Really? But isn't oyster sauce like, super salty?"

Apparently so does Ace, "Some folks put chocolate into curry, don't they? Maybe it's the same idea." No, Ace. Whether it's pineapple on pizza or chocolate in curry, whether you like or hate it, it is not a total abomination of the culinary world. Oyster sauce in a chestnut tart cream is.

"You guys......are messing with me right?" You say, still in disbelief.

"Pfft...Ah ha ha ha!" Trey laughs, is he mad? If this dorm is Wonderland, is he actually the Mad Hatter and not the three of clovers.

"I'm totally lying! No one in their right mind would put oyster sauce into a pastry." You breathe a sigh of relief, okay this world wasn't completely far gone.

"Let that be a lesson to you. Don't believe everything you hear."

"Feh. And here I thought that human was actually somewhat decent." Grim murmurs.

"It wasn't that bad." Out of all the things you'd experienced this week, let alone today, this was by far the most tame. At least he revealed the lie, before Ace poured oyster sauce in the cream.

Trey has to be the most tame person you met so far, it's actually hard to connect that he's supposed to be a yandere and not a normal friendly dude with a hidden mischievous side.

That reminder isn't a fun one, but he seems perfectly nice...you hope.

"Next, I'll put in the cream....Oh!"

"What's wrong?"

"You guys gathered so many chestnuts that we may have overdone it with the chestnut paste. I don't think we have enough cream to mix in."

"Then I'll go buy some." Deuce volunteers himself, "Do they sell it at the school store?"

Thankfully, according to Trey, it does. You haven't been there yet, but no better time to find out like the present.

"I don't think I'll be able to carry all that back. ___-"

"I'll go with you." Whatever gets you back here faster. As soon as Ace gives Riddle this tart back tonight, you'll be in the clear. If he doesn't you're stuck with him tonight.

Deuce ended up calling this shop wild. Wild is an understatement. The shop is full of....everything. From fruits to stationary, and crystal skulls to rare plants. There's even a restricted access section, with locked cabinets full of freshly sharpened short and long blades to guns to pre-made potions filled with unknown fluids.

It's a perfect one stop shop for students, and for criminals.

"Do you really think they sell cream in here?" Grim says incredulously. Grim ended up tagging along, and looks equally mystified from all the products this 'school' store as to offer.

"I'm not-"

"Greetings, my stray imps, How fare you today?" You yelp as you reel back in surprise. The shopkeeper appeared quite literally from nowhere. "Welcome to Mr.Sam's Mystery Shop. What among my humble selection interests you? A charm from a secluded land? The mummified remains of an ancient king? A cursed tarot card?"

Ok, a name, the shopkeeper's name is Sam...something. And humble is modest understatement. You're pretty sure that this place makes the mega department stores back home look empty.

"How about some cream...for baking?" With so much stuff here, you feel a little overwhelmed.

"Y-Yeah, we wanted to buy all the items on this list."

"Ring up two cans of tuna while you're at it!"

"With what money, Grim?"

"Yes, Grim! We're not here for tuna!"

"What's this? Cream and eggs and....Quite the sacchariferous list! I'll get everything for you." It's impressive that he even knows that he has everything. With all the stuff here, you wouldn't even notice something strange or normal on these shelves. There's animals skulls, jewellery, weird taxidermy, even a weird shadow hand waving at you.

.......Y'know what, who cares. You wave back just in time for Sam to return with all your groceries. That was fast.

"Here you go. It's pretty heavy.....Are you sure you can carry this?Luckily for you, our 1/100th size flying saucers are 30% off today. Perfect for carrying groceries!"

Grim falls for the advertising, but Deuce stops him before he spends your nonexistent money. "We're fine, thank you. Let's go."

"Myah! I didn't realize today was National No Fun Allowed Day!"

"You're allowed to have fun as long as you don't make a mess." He deflates, "Grim, if it makes you feel better I'll give you an extra can of tuna for dinner." he perks up at that.

You and Deuce take the bags and bid Sam thanks. Deuce pulls you aside on the way out, "That store was amazing."

"Yeah, it was." You make a mental note to inquire about some products before your time of the month comes. That store has everything after all.

Main Street is practically void of any students, though you can see a pair walking up. The two are wearing red vests, Heartslabyul or Scarabia students probably. Besides that it's just, you, Deuce and Grim, who starts whining about his lack of purchases. "Yeah, and you guys are amazingly cheap."

"Hey!"

"Who are you calling cheap?!"

You shake your head, before readjusting the cords of the bags digging into your arms. You wince from the pressure relief, the bruise on your forearm that Leona gave you from earlier still stings. The bags are too heavy but you'll manage the rest of the way back.

"Hm?" Deuce must have seen your struggling, "_____, looks like you got the bag with all the cans. That must be heavy."

"It's not that bad," You shake your head, lying, "I can carry it."

"Here, let me take that one." He takes one of the heavier bags from you. And you breathe a sigh of relief now that the weight is off. "I've got a little trick for carrying heavy bags."

Smiling, you say, "Thank you." He smiles back, balancing all the heavy bags with ease. "You're quite the power shopper."

He nods, "Yeah. My mom always used to stock up at sales, and the bags would get ridiculously heavy. I was the only man in the house, so I got to do all the heavy lifting, and-" He pauses, "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to monopolize the conversation."

You shake your head, "No, it's okay..." Actually, you might be able to learn something useful from this. "Y'know if you want, you could talk about her, you seem to care about your mom a lot."

He deflates, "No, it wasn't like that at all." He takes a deep breath, "The truth is, I-OW!"

The students you saw down the street from earlier, ran directly into Deuce.

The sound of something cracking into bits fills the air. Clear and yellow goop drips out of one of the bags.

"The eggs!"

Deuce hurriedly opens the bag to inspect the damage. "The carton is completely smashed! And now the bag's dripping egg goo everywhere."

"Ugh! Why don't you watch where you're- Hey!"

The offending student turns around infuriated, and then his eyes widen in recognition. You recognise them too. The delinquents from earlier. The ones who through a fit over a broken yolk. Surprisingly, they're wearing the Heartslabyul ribbons. Hard to be delinquent when a tyrant can collar them with ease.

"It's you from earlier."

"Yeah, and you're the jerks who broke the egg yolk on my carbonara!"

"It was just a yolk." You repeat but it's pointless.

The other delinquent stalks up to you, grabbing you by your tie , "I've had enough of you punks. You need to learn your place." They threaten.

You can see Deuce's eyebrow twitch in fury. "You're the ones who darted out at as from around a corner!" He mutters, you can hear the hostility deep in his voice. He's angry. "And you picked a fight with us at lunch over an egg that you were still totally able to eat!"

"And now you've destroyed six of OUR eggs!" That anger in his voice is getting louder, clearer. You've seen Deuce a little angry before, but something's off about this time.

"Yeah, he's right!"

"So what? You sayin' that was our fault?"

"I am. Please reimburse us for the eggs." Deuce is frighteningly calm. He's not yelling or anything. "And then apologise to the chickens."

"Ooh, look who's got his big boy pants on. You sure are makin' a big deal outta some stupid eggs." The one with hold on your tie taunts Deuce.

"You shut your mouth." You hiss at him.

"What?" Deuce is still way too calm.

The idiot delinquent keeps blabbering, "They haven't even touched the ground, so they're still edible. Quit whinin'."

His idiot lackey keeps up the nonsense jabber. "Yeah, you should thank us for savin' ya the trouble of crackin' em."

They laugh and it's mocking and cruel.

"That ain't funny." Deuce's voice has a low growl and very quiet, the delinquents are idiots so they don't notice but....

"Deuce?" You ask, and you can see his eye twitching. He's angry. dangerously so.

"Huh?" Idiot delinquent number one asks.

And then that anger that Deuce was holding back finally bursts forth.

"I said......THAT AIN'T FUNNY!" The yell is so loud, it stuns you. The normally polite and reserved Deuce is replaced with one with a voice so loud, you're surprised that it didn't awaken the statues.

"You don't get to call my eggs stupid! You don't get to call ANY eggs stupid!! Those eggs may not have gotten to be chicks, but they were gonna make some amazing tarts!!"

"And you," Deuce's voice drops low as he rips the second delinquent away from you. "You apologize to her, right now. Do you get it yet!? DO YOU!?" Your tie comes apart in the delinquent's grip, said delinquent too afraid to actually let it go. They looks like he's about to piss himself from fear.

"W-What is with this guy all of a sudden?!"

"You owe me six eggs. If ya ain't gonna pay me for em, then you're gettin' a bruise for each one!" Deuce cracks his knuckles for emphasis.

"A-Are you serious right now?" The other little twerp is shaking in his sneakers.

''Buckle up, jerks!!"

Deuce's fist sails home into the cheek of the red-haired one, and another into the nose of the other. Blood splurts out staining the gloves he's wearing.

Like two pathetic little bitches, the two delinquents scamper and struggle against the one man army Deuce proves to be. And he isn't even using his magic.

"This guy's outta his mind!" The first one stammers.

"Bwah! L-Let's get outta here!" The other squeaks. And they both take off running. You hope Deuce doesn't get in trouble for this.

"Next time you eat an egg, you better apologize a hundred times, you buncha chumps!!" He yells at the retreating duo.

"D-Deuce! You need to calm down." You cup his face with both hands. And the blind rage on his face dissolves completely into calm.

He pants as he tries to calm himself. "....Urk!"

"W-What's wrong?" You let him go. All that anger is replaced with sadness, or actually....It looks like disappointment. "Are you ok?"

"I did it again, didn't I...?" Did what again? Deuce stares at the blood on his gloves, and he looks pained. "ARGH! I was dead-set on becoming an honor student this time, too."

"Huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"When I was in middle school, I was pretty wild. I cut school all the time and got in fights. I called my teachers names, hung out with bullies, bleached my hair..." Deuce lists off all of his middle school crimes, and honestly....He did sound a lot like the delinquents back in your world, minus the Magic Wheel thing and the magic.

"So you were only a little more annoying than you are now?"

"Grim, not now...." You scold Grim before trying to comfort Deuce. "No offense, but that's kind of hard for me to picture..."

Deuce continues to tell his backstory, "But one night, I saw my mom talking with my grandma. She was trying to hide from me, but I saw her, and I could tell she was in tears. She was saying how she must have been a horrible mom, and that she never should have tried to raise me by herself."

Ouch, that must have been tough to hear, especially from his mom.

"That had nothin' to do with it! She hadn't done anything wrong. It was all me......And when the carriage came to take me to Night Raven, she was so happy for me. I decided then and there that this time, I wouldn't do anything to make her cry. That this time, I'd become an honor student-someone she could be proud of."

"And I messed it all up!"

"No, you didn't." He looks so surprised at what you said.

"But-"

"Deuce, you didn't get into a fight for no reason. You got into to a fight because someone destroyed your stuff, and threatened your friends. Besides, they probably would have attacked me if you hadn't stepped in. And protecting the people you care about is something honor students should do."

"R-really?" You nod.

"Plus the thing an honor student should do....is report this to the Dorm Leader that some of his students tried to get into a fight with two freshmen." You whisper into his ear. "Let's see how they like it when they can't use their magic." You chuckle.

"______....."

"And to be honest....I really enjoyed that."

Deuce cheers up at that, "Heh heh....I guess you're right! I just hope those chicks can rest in peace."

"Uh, Deuce, the eggs were unfertilised..." He blinks at you, he doesn't know what you're talking about. "They were never going to hatch in the first place..."

"Wha-WHAAAAAT?! Are you kidding me?!"

You giggle again whilst shaking your head. He's not very smart, but you don't mind.

"But about your mom, could you tell me about her? She sounds like a really nice lady."

[thatgiraffefromtlou]

The Aurora Project

(part 2)

(tumblr won’t let me tag part one for some odd reason but it’s in my pinned post! make sure you read that first 🫶🏻)

summary: as a result of a malfunction, you and ellie awaken from cryosleep aboard a spaceship with no memory. will you find evidence that you're more than just shipmates? something to give reason to your nagging familiarity to the stranger you wake up next to?

warnings: eventual explicit language, potential for smut in later chapters (depending), uh cringy teasing idk- Imk if there's more this is also pretty tame-

A/N: so erm this definitely isn’t the best work of mine i won’t lie to you guy. it’s only slightly proof read 🧍🏼 like i said the results of this election has my mind kind elsewhere, but writing is still very therapeutic for me and i really wanted to get something put out for you guys! plus im excited to post this and continue this story and i don’t want that to be taken from me. anyways enough about that i hope you guys enjoy!!

work count: 2.6K (ik sorry they will eventually be longer)

– Chapter two -

"Maybe your eye would work?" you break the silence, your voice echoing softly in the open space. You and Ellie sit on either side of the exit, your backs pressed against the cool, metallic walls. It took you two what felt like forever, but you finally found a door. The hope that cascaded through your bodies upon first seeing the door was palpable, a surge of excitement that quickly dissipated the moment you realized it was locked. The lock mechanism, a complex array of technological marvels you’ve never encountered, had multiple parts, but only needed one of the three ways to get through: an eye scanner, a password, or a thumbprint.

The eye scanner looked like a floating camera, or at least that's the best way you could describe it. It hovered eerily, set maybe a foot above a see-through keyboard that seemed to defy gravity. Glowing boxes surrounded glowing letters, numbers, and symbols, creating an otherworldly interface. It was strange, almost disconcerting, the way those two things seemed to float beside the door, as if held in place by some invisible force. In stark contrast, the fingerprint scan was firmly affixed to the actual door itself, a more tangible and familiar security measure. Either way, two of these things you thought Ellie might be able to manipulate, given her potential credentials.

"Huh?" Ellie turns her head to you, her brows furrowed in confusion and her upper lip slightly risen on one side, creating an expression of both intrigue and skepticism. "It's a shot in the dark but..." you begin, your mind racing to connect the dots, "Our name plates—only you had 'Dr.' in front of your name." You shrug your shoulders and lick your lips, your theory on the tip of your tongue. Turning your body to face more in her direction, your legs tucking slightly under your thighs in an attempt to get comfortable on the hard floor, you continue, "Maybe you have some form of authority here? I mean, hell, maybe you're even an astronaut? It's not too far-fetched considering our surroundings."

She looked at you with an expression that was a perfect blend of disbelief and flattery, as if you had just said the most absurd yet complimentary thing imaginable. Her eyes widened slightly, eyebrows raised, creating a very confused expression that spoke volumes. "Or," she countered, her voice tinged with a hint of skepticism, "I'm just a doctor who practices medicine and they need doctors in this place we're headed towards? It seems more likely, doesn't it?" Your shoulders literally slump at that, the weight of disappointment settling on you. "Yeah, you're probably right…" you concede, your voice trailing off.

You sit with your back against the wall again, the cool surface a stark reminder of your predicament. Your mind starts racing, deciding to go back to the drawing board. Maybe there's another door on the other side? Air vents? As these thoughts swirl in your head, Ellie suddenly stands up, her movement catching you off guard. She leans over slightly, putting her eye at level with the scanner, a look of determination etched on her face. You look up at her curiously, and suddenly there's a beep—a sharp, electronic sound that cuts through the silence—and the doors slide open with a smooth, hydraulic hiss.

You get on your feet immediately, adrenaline surging through your body, and she turns back to you, her face a mask of genuine shock mirroring your own. "No way..." you say in awe, your voice barely above a whisper as you look through the now open door. The view beyond is bleak, not really what you were hoping for. Just another long walkway stretches before you, more walkways branching off like a labyrinth of sterile corridors. "Guess I am an astronaut..." Ellie says quietly, a smile playing on her lips, tinged with a mixture of pride and bewilderment.

You look back to her, her smile a welcome contrast to the boring white hallway that seems to stretch endlessly before you. You can't help but smile back, a sense of camaraderie growing between you. "Of course you are," you say, your voice filled with a newfound confidence, "I'm never wrong." Ellie huffs air out of her nose in a small laugh, her smile widening as she shakes her head, a gesture that seems both exasperated and fond. She takes a deep breath, straightening her back again, and steps into the hallway with cautious steps. You follow close behind, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. The doors close with a whooshing sound behind you both, sealing off the room you just left.

"Why'd you give it a try?" you ask, curiosity getting the better of you as you fall into step beside her. Ellie shrugs, her eyes scanning the corridor ahead. "Better than sitting there with no solution," she replies, her tone matter-of-fact. She glances at you, a hint of amusement in her eyes, "and something told me you're never wrong or whatever." You smile as the warm sense of familiarity fills you again, this time less scary but just as confusing as before. It's a feeling you can't quite place, like a half-remembered dream or a song you can't quite recall. "Fair enough," you joke a little, your voice light.

Silence settles over the two of you for a moment before you speak again, "So, Dr. Ellie," you say, emphasizing her title with a playful tone, a little pep in your step, your body angled more towards her than forward. "What's our next move? Any pearls of astronaut wisdom to share with us mere mortals?" The question is wrapped in a layer of jest, but underneath, it's clear you're both grappling with the same pressing concern: what on earth—or rather, what in space—are you supposed to do now?

Ellie responds with a soft chuckle, her eyes never ceasing their scan of the corridors stretching out before you. "Well," she begins, her voice tinged with a hint of self-deprecation, "If I had to guess, I think our best bet would be to find some kind of control room or like a central hub. I mean.. there's bound to be a nerve center somewhere." As she speaks, her hands move in small, unconscious gestures, as if trying to shape her thoughts in the air.

She gives a little shrug, the movement almost diminishing the weight of her ideas. It's a strange contradiction—the self-assurance in her logic juxtaposed against a hint of awkwardness in her delivery. The dichotomy is intriguing; she clearly knows she's smart, but there's a flutter of something—maybe modesty, maybe uncertainty—when that intelligence is on display.

You nod, genuinely impressed by her logical approach despite her hesitation. "Makes sense," you agree, your voice trailing off a little as you mull over her suggestion. After a moment you ask, "Any ideas on how we might go about finding this hypothetical control room?"

Ellie's eyebrows lift a fraction, and when she speaks again, her words seem to require a touch more effort than before, as if she's carefully weighing each one. "Well, we could start by looking for signs, I suppose?" Her gaze flicks to you briefly before returning to the path ahead, a mix of consideration and caution in her eyes. "Or, failing that, we could follow the main corridor?" She gestures ahead with a sweep of her hand. "In my experience-“ she cuts herself off in a fluster. “Or what I think might be my experience, given our current memory situation—important areas are usually centrally located and well-marked."

You hum thoughtfully and nod, acknowledging the soundness of her strategy. "So, essentially, we keep walking straight until we stumble upon another door or some kind of signage?" A note of playful sarcasm creeps into your voice as you add, "Sounds absolutely thrilling..."

Ellie responds with an eye roll, but there's a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, softening the gesture. "Well, unless you've got a better idea tucked away in that sarcasm-filled brain of yours, Captain Quip, I think that's our best bet for now." She pauses for a beat, then adds with a touch of dry humor coloring her words, "Who knows? Maybe if we're really lucky, we'll stumble upon a space casino or an alien petting zoo along the way."

"A petting zoo?" you echo, latching onto the absurd image with enthusiasm. "Maybe they've got some kind of high-tech Noah's Ark situation going on up here." The mental picture draws a laugh from both of you, the sound a welcome break in the tension. As your chuckles subside, you're struck by a sudden realization. "You know what? I could really go for a drink right now. God, I'm thirsty. Are you thirsty too?" The question hangs in the air for a moment before you notice something's off. You turn, expecting to see Ellie beside you, but she's nowhere in sight. Confusion floods your system. Wasn't she just—

You’re quickly interrupted by the sound of your name being called. It's Ellie's voice, but it's coming from at least 20 feet behind you. You spin around, your eyes searching, and finally spot her. She's standing in front of a doorway, her arm extended, finger pointing at something beyond. "Look," she calls again, her voice a mix of excitement and wariness.

You quickly jog back to where Ellie is standing. As you draw closer, you see what has captured her attention: before you a mini hall, maybe 3 feet long ending with a small door.

Your gaze follows Ellie's pointing finger to the side of the door, where a placard identical to those at the foot of your pods catches your attention. The name 'Dr. Williams' is etched onto its surface, below her name is a simple +1, causing a small jolt of recognition to course through you. "Oh..." you breathe, the single syllable barely audible as it escapes your lips. Your eyes dart between Ellie and the plain white door, a feeling of apprehension swirling in your gut.

"Well, let's open it," you suggest, your voice a blend of impatience and nervousness. Ellie responds with a nod, her face showing her own set of conflicting emotions. She reaches out, her hand settling on the doorknob - a long, flat apparatus that stands out against the sterile white of the door. Your eyes are drawn to a peculiar smooth shiny black rectangle spot near where the handle attaches to the door, its purpose unclear but somehow significant.

Ellie's fingers wrap around the handle, and she attempts to turn it. The door remains closed, the handle refusing to even budge an inch. A look of frustration flashes across her face as she tries again, her knuckles almost whitening with the force of her grip. Still, the door doesn't budge.

You watch intently as Ellie's brow furrows in concentration, her fingers now tracing the outline of the mysterious black spot. Suddenly, Ellie's eyes widen with realization, and she presses her thumb firmly against the black square. The silence that follows seems to stretch for an eternity, both of you holding your breath in anticipation. Then, a soft beep fills the air, shattering the tension.

Ellie turns the handle again and the door responds with a soft click as she pushes the door open. You and Ellie exchange a quick glance, a wordless communication passing between you. Taking a deep, steadying breath, you both step forward in unison. The room is small, almost like a one room apartment. The white sterile walls not following you into this space. You both set forward, Ellie in the lead as you both wordlessly scan the room. The walls may be white, but the room itself is vibrant with personality and life.

Every available surface is adorned with an array of memorabilia - framed photographs capturing moments frozen in time, colorful posters that speak of diverse interests, and shelves lined with an assortment of knick-knacks, each telling its own story. These decorations form a protective cocoon around the full-sized bed nestled at the far end of the room, creating a cozy sanctuary within the larger space. The front area of the room seamlessly blends the functionality of a kitchen with the comfort of a living room, defying the sterile environment beyond its walls.

As you step further into the room, your senses are overwhelmed by a collection of different scents, each fighting for dominance in the recycled air of the ship. The rich, invigorating aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the smoky, complex notes of aged whiskey. A faint, earthy scent of stale marijuana lingers in the background. Underpinning it all is a warm, masculine fragrance - reminiscent of a what you’d smell when you hug a Southern dad, all sun-warmed cotton and subtle cologne.

Despite the main overhead light being off, the room is bathed in a gentle, welcoming glow. A strategically placed array of lamps and twinkling string lights cast a soft, amber radiance throughout the space. This warm illumination not only brightens the room but also seems to ignite a spark of recognition deep within you. As your eyes adjust and roam over the personal touches scattered throughout, you can't shake the feeling that this space is somehow intimately familiar, as if you've spent countless hours within these very walls, or at least around these things.

Ellie quietly calls your name, her voice tinged with a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. You slowly turn around to see her sitting on what you presume to be her bed, a framed photograph clutched in her hands. You make your way over to her, each step feeling both familiar and foreign on the ship's floor. As you settle beside her on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under your combined weight, she carefully turns the photo to face you both.

The image captured within the frame immediately draws your attention. It's a snapshot of what appears to be a Halloween party, the background a blur of festive decorations and revelers. But it's the subjects of the photo that truly catch your eye - you and Ellie, looking carefree and happy, your costumes as whimsical as they are clever.

You find yourself staring at your own image, barely recognizing the person looking back at you. You're dressed in an elaborate moth costume, complete with intricately designed wings and antennae. Your costume-clad self is caught mid-motion, planting an exaggerated kiss on Ellie's cheek. Ellie, for her part, is sporting what can only be described as a lampshade on her head, her face alight with laughter and warmth.

The juxtaposition of the costumes isn't lost on you - a moth drawn to a lamp, a visual pun that speaks of inside jokes and shared humor. It's a moment of connection, of joy, frozen in time and preserved behind glass.

"Oh..." you breathe, the word barely more than an exhale. The photo feels like a key, unlocking a flood of emotions you can't quite place. Familiarity wars with the unsettling feeling of looking at strangers wearing your faces.

"Oh..." Ellie echoes, her voice a mirror of your own confusion and wonder. Her eyes flick between the photo and your face, searching for something - recognition, perhaps, or confirmation that you're feeling the same tumult of emotions that she is.

The silence stretches between you, filled with unspoken questions and the weight of implications neither of you are quite ready to voice.

A/N: hehehe lmk if you wanna be added to the tag listttttt

tag list: @autisticintr0vert (if you’re not tagged and asked to be, please check to make sure you’re ability to be tagged is on because your username did not show up!)

[annymation]

The Kingdom of Wishes- A “Wish” Rewrite

Chapter 2- Asha's Big Day

Please read Chapter 1 before this one.

Asha wakes up with the first rays of sunshine coming out of the window hitting her eyes, she blinks a few times as things start coming into focus.

The room she’s in is not the same we saw her in the opening with Sabino, it’s a rustic bedroom with a more detailed built to it, with wood carvings that resemble animals on the walls and furniture, including on a bed next to Asha’s with the name “Dahlia” carved on it.

Also there’s way less of Asha’s drawing hanging on the walls, just a few of her favorite ones. One in particular it’s a drawing of her and Dahlia together, although, Asha’s face doesn’t look exactly how she really is in real life, she still needs more practice with self portraits.

Asha stretches her arms and yawns, waking up a little someone on a little bed next to hers.

And from the tiny bedsheets comes out a baby goat that quickly jumps to her lap excitedly bleating and licking her cheeks.

“Heheheh good morning to you too, Valentino” she says as she hugs him.

"Did you sleep well?" she asks as if the goat could answer, and sure enough, he does

"Maaaa! Maaa!" the baby goat bleats shaking his head positively

"That's good, I slept well too... Although, I had the weirdest dream"

"Maa?" not to brag but I'm writing peak dialogue here the goat raises one eyebrow

"I can't remember much but... I think I saw a boy made of light, and he was trying to tell me something, I couldn't understand what it was… but I feel like he was asking me to not give away something, something important… Weird huh?" She asks her baby goat, who's too busy munching her blanket to pay attention, since ya know, baby's short attention span.

"Yeah, I guess it's just as weird as the fact I ask for advice from a goat hihih" She giggles to herself as she takes the blanket off his mouth, Valentino hops out of the bed jumping around and falling over like:

(Baby goats are so cute, like, how did Disney manage to make a baby goat NOT cute?)

Asha looks at her pet fondly and chuckles a little with his little jumps. But then her smile lessens a bit and she looks out her window, from there she can see the castle, imposing and radiant in the distance.

"Today really is the day, huh?..." She says softly, with a hint of both anxiousness but also hopefulness in her voice

Asha hears something approaching her door, the distinct sound of footsteps, as in, MANY footsteps, and a few whispers like "shhh she might still be sleeping" "be careful with that cake, will ya? It took me all night " "ouch! Simon, that's my foot!" "SHHHH"

Asha smiles, knowing full well who's coming, she waits eagerly for the door to open.

The door opens revealing her friends, all together trying to fit through the door, with Dahlia on the front, and she says:

"Is she awa- OH SHE IS! SHES AWAKE OKAY LETS GO- Happy birthday to-"

They all sing happy birthday as they get in, some more gracefully than others since Gabo just tripped over Valentino and fell on the floor, he's clearly very angry about that.

Hal rushes over to Asha holding a purple birthday cake with one candle, she's smiling widely and singing louder and more beautifully than everyone else. (She did have the best singing voice of the 7, in my opinion)

Meanwhile Dario is struggling to balance a tower of 7 presents, all of different colors and sizes, he manages to catch some with his feet before they fell on the floor, he’s pretty much performing a balancing act.

Simon stops in the middle of the song to give a big yawn.

Safi sneezes because of the smoke from the candle.

Bazeema is singing veeeeery quietly and clapping her hands softly.

Asha is overjoyed by the surprise "Awww guys! Thank you so much! Dahlia, this cake looks amazing!" She says looking at a beautifully decorated cake

If you wanna picture it lets say it’s just like the unbirthday cake from Alice in Wonderland, but purple.

"You're welcome!" Dahlia replied, very proud of herself "I guess when your little sis is an assistant at the royal kitchen you get some perks, am I right? hihi" Obviously they're not actually sisters but since Asha has been living with Dahlia and her parents they treat each other as if they were.

"We are soooo happy for you Asha!" Hal exclaims "You'll finally get a wish! this is so exciting!" She starts jumping up and down with the cake, Gabo quickly takes it off of her hands, annoyed by her recklessness.

Bazeema shyly and quietly remarks "yes, you deserve it more than anyone Asha, after all the kindness you spread to others" she has a big smile on her lips.

Asha puts her hand behind her neck smiling awkwardly "I mean, it's not really that big a deal, I think I'll just wish for something small"

Gabo, who is placing the cake on the table next to Asha's bed, turns his head abruptly after hearing that "Uuuh haha, excuse me? After 18 years of waiting you just gonna ask for something small? Are you crazy? A wish can change your life for the better, ya know? I ,for example, am gonna wish for a bunch of diamonds and gold" he claims smugly

Simon doesn't seem like he's fully paying attention, but even then he realizes Gabo had an oversight "… Wait, but now that you told us, it won't come true, remember? that's one of the king's rule-"

"THANK YOU FOR REMINDING ME SIMON! THAT TOOOTALY DIDN'T JUST RUIN MY DAY" Gabo screams, frustrated by his slip up, because yeah, you CAN'T wish for something that other people know you want, it has to be a secret.

Safi is itching his nose as he claims "I think we all know what Asha is gonna wish for tho"

he glances at Asha's sketchbook that is laying next to her bed

Asha gives him a smug smile "Ooh-ho you think I'll wish to become a better artist? Hehehe nope!"

Dahlia of all people looks the most shocked "What?! Really? Aww that was my bet too, all I see you doing is drawing on that sketchbook everyday"

"And you often complain that you don't feel like they're good enough" Simon adds

"Heheh well yeah, I just don't feel they're quite the same level as my mom's drawings, that's all"

Hal raises her eyebrow as she smiles "Now that's just silly, I've seen you draw Asha, your drawings are AMAAAAZING! Just look!"

Hal grabs Asha's sketch book and starts showing to the others

"H-heey wait! those aren't finished!" Asha stutters, concerned they might see some of her rough and less than perfect drawings

(side note, never look at an artists sketchbook without permission, that's like reading someone's diary)

Asha grabs the notebook back, but sees all her friends staring at her expectedly (except Gabo cause he's still frustrated he'll have to think about a whole new wish) , so she breathes in and shows them.

She goes through the pages showing animals, landscapes, rooms, people, and if this was in the movie maybe some pages could have concept arts, both from wish and from previous Disney movies, as a subtle homage to the artists.

All of them sit next to Asha on the bed as she turns the pages, they're amazed.

"Wooow you've improved so much, Asha" Bazeema says, while giving some excited little claps

"You call that unfinished? then they'll look even better when you're done" Safi commented.

"They look really pretty" Dario communicates using sign language.

"See? I told ya'll" Hal says victorious.

Gabo and Simon look slightly unimpressed. Dahlia has already seen most of those so she has no comments, Asha knows how much she loves her drawings, she even glued some of them on their room.

"Thank you, that means a lot actually... " Asha says while staring at one particular drawing of her grandfather and her on a tree branch, looking up at the stars.

"… Most people say I'm just wasting my time but I really feel like I'm getting better everyday… Although." she flips the pages to show a drawing she made of herself, but the face doesn't fully resembles Asha's (could be a concept art) "I still can't figure out how to draw myself properly."

Gabo seems to try holding his tongue but he let's out anyway "I mean… to be frank, it kinda is waste of time when you think about it"

"Gabo!" Dahlia scolded him

"Hey I'm just saying, why take so much time practicing to be as great of an artist as your mom when you can just wish TODAY to be the best artist ever?" Gabo says frankly.

Asha doesn't really mind Gabo's previous comment, she's used to it, so she just shrugs and explains "Well for one, like Simon said, a wish that other people know about cannot be granted"

"Ugh don't remind me" Gabo facepalms, still angry by his own mistake.

"And second" Asha continues "I just feel more satisfied like this, working hard to improve everyday, even if I don't think my art is perfect just yet, I feel proud of myself every time I improve, and that drives me to keep trying to get better and better."

Simon chuckles at that "Hehe you're an amazing person Asha, but that's one thing I'll never understand, all of that sounds so hard, sometimes it's easier, and smarter, to just...*yaaaawn* take the easy route, ya know?..." As he rambles, Simon starts laying down on Asha's bed without noticing and almost immediately falls asleep.

That doesn't phase the group at all, they're used to it.

Asha closes her sketchbook and starts getting ready for the day "Well not for me, and another thing, if I wished to become a better artist I would forget that wish and my passion about drawing for a little while, and I REALLY don't want that, no, I'm gonna wish for something else." She says while taking off her braids scarf (Like this one, she wears it to sleep)

Hal claps her hands, smiling ear to ear "You go Asha! make a wish that counts! Now... BOYS! OUT! Shoo shoo! Get out of here, this is a girls only zone" She says pushing Dario, Gabo and Safi out the door

(Yes Hal, please get them OUT, I can't keep writing dialogue for 8 different people!)

"You too sleepy head, wait with the others downstairs" Dahlia shakes Simon a couple of times to wake him up.

"Uh what- why?" Simon wakes up confused

"Cause' we gotta get the birthday princess ready for her big day" Hal says, while sitting Asha in front of a mirror.

"Princess? Haha what?" Asha asks, holding her laughter

"Why, yes. You're a princess for today! Whatever you say goes, now, let's get your birthday hair done!" Hal says excited, while Asha grabs from a drawer some silver beads to decorate her braids.

"I can help you pick up a dress" Bazeema says quietly

"Heheh you all are too much" Asha says with a smile

(I just realized while writing this that Valentino kinda just vanished, didn't he?... Okay let's say he went downstairs after Gabo tripped on him, there, crisis averted)

Dahlia walks holding something behind her back and coughs a little as if to clear her throat, but really it's just to get their attention "If you think this is too much, wait till you see EVERYTHING else we've planned for today"

Asha gives Dahlia a knowing look with a smile "You made a list, didn't you?"

"You bet!" Dahlia reveals a long list that hits the floor with a step by step plan of all the activities they'll do the whole day.

"First! We gonna eat my cake for breakfast, yay! Then! We'll visit the royal garden, Bazeema has spent months preparing a small garden of Purple Hyacinths just for you"

Asha gasps "Those are my favorite flowers!"

"hihihi I know" Bazeema says giggling bashfully

Dahlia continues "Of course, Safi won't go with us to that because of-"

"AAA AAAAACHOOOOO!"

They hear from downstairs.

"... That, so to make it up to him, the next event is at his house where we gonna play our instruments the whooole morning"

"But I don't play any instruments" Asha says, her hair fully ready while she takes a dress Bazeema picked up for her.

"No problem, you can just dance and sing." Dahlia says "And then after that we have lunch and finally when it's sunset we go to the wish ceremony! So, what do you think?"

"That all sound's amazing" Asha says coming from behind a room divider (ya know those wood curtain like things that people use to dress up behind them?) now dressed in a purple dress, with a few star details embroidered on the base.

"Great!" Dahlia says "Because that's just the first part of the list, we got a filled day ahead-"

"You do indeed" Dahlia is interrupted by a new voice coming from behind the door "Good morning girls, may I come in?"

"Oh! Sure thing mom" Dahlia says opening the door

We see a woman that looks a lot like Dahlia but, of course, older, and wearing a dress that is composed only of muted shades of blue from top to bottom.

"Morning ms. Hayashi" Asha waves to her cheerfully.

"Good morning Asha, happy birthday" the woman says with a smile then redirects her attention to her daughter "Dahlia, I need your help, the King and Queen's wedding anniversary is in 2 days and the queen didn't like the cake recipe I came up with, I need to test a new recipe as soon as possible, so go to the market and buy me these ingredients." she hands Dahlia a grocery list.

"Wh- but mom I told you I'd be dizzy- I-I mean busy today” Dahlia replaces words when she’s nervous the same way Doc did constantly in Snow White “it's Asha's birthday, and this list is huge, it'll take me too long and mess up our whole schedule"

"I can help you" Asha chimed in

"whAT- OH NO YOU WON'T YOUNG LADY!" Dahlia exclaims pointing a finger at her

Hal and Bazeema are just in the background watching now

"Young lady? I'm officially older than you, remember? hehehe" Asha jokes

"Don't get funny with me you little ray of sunshine! You're turning 18 today, I won't have you spend your birthday in a carpet- I MEAN market!"

"Umm we can help too" Bazeema says meekly.

"Yeah, and the boys too, so we can get it done faster" Hal adds

"Huh? but-but our plan though" Dahlia points to the list

"Anywhere I spend with you guys it's special, then, after we're done buying what your mom needs, we can go to the royal garden, and then to Safi's house" Asha reassures her friend

".... *sigh* fiiiiiine, we'll help you, mom" Dahlia bemoaned, very frustrated with the change in plans.

"Thank you girls, please be back before sunset" She starts walking down the hallway

Then, Dahlia remembers something

"oh OH WAIT- Bazeema, grab a book that is under my bed please!" she asks her friend, since it's more difficult for her to bend down with her crutch and overall her mobility disabilities.

"Um alright" Bazeema grabs an old book that is almost falling apart, it has "family recipes" on the cover "This one?"

"That's the one. mom! mom!!" Dahlia walks up to her mom and shows her the book "Look what I found under the food cabinet last week~"

Her mom looks surprised "Huh... I haven't seen this in years"

"You said you wanted to test a new recipe, weeeell this book has a lot of cool recipes I've never heard about before! And I'm sure King Magnifico and Queen Amable would think so too!" She opens the book, it has hand written recipes in both English, Spanish and Japanese "By the way, how come you never told me about this?"

Asha and the other two look at them talking and Asha notices how Dahlia's mom looks... Indifferent to this book that is apparently a family relic, with recipes from her native culture, surely she'd at least feel nostalgic by it, would't she?

"That's nice sweetie, but that's not the type of food your majesties would like, I only make meals for them, remember?" she says in a very detached way, almost robotic.

Dahlia looks disappointed "Oh... Okay... Then maybe you can teach me later?" Dahlia asks, hopeful.

"... I don't think I'll have the time dear, I have way too much work already at the castle, besides, there's nothing interesting in that book anyway" she explains, clearly not caring at all.

Her mother leaves, Dahlia hugs the book tightly.

... Well that was weird wasn't it? I'm sure it's not foreshadowing anything...

Anywaaaay that's enough of a scene on Asha's bedroom, let's move this along.

We cut to the gang splitting up at the plaza, each one going to a different sales stall.

It's our first look in the actual kingdom, and it is... Exactly like it was in the actual Wish movie, only notable difference is that the sculptures and paintings on the walls and floors are no longer only of king Magnifico, there are images of the king AND queen all over the place.

And most people are dressed head to toe with muted shades of blue, white and yellow. Younger people like kids, teenagers and Asha and her friends stand out because they dress up with more varied and bright colors... Except for Simon, whose clothes are more of a muted bluish green and white... I'm sure that doesn't mean anything tho.

Asha and Dahlia are picking some fruits together, and Asha notices how Dahlia looks upset and deep in her thoughts.

"I'm sorry your mom is too busy, if you want we can try making those recipes together later" Asha says trying to comfort her best friend

"Huh what?" She snaps out of her train of thoughts "Oh that? pffft That was fine, I'm used to it, she and my dad... Always prioritize working for the king" she looks clearly frustrated.

Asha places a hand on her shoulder, concerned.

Dahlia glances at her friend and takes some deep breaths

"But yeah... I'd like to try making them with you, that'd be nice" She smiles at her friend and holds her hand "But hey enough about me, this is YOUR day! So, excited to have your wish granted? humm? hmm?" Dahlia is back to her bubbly self, trying to lighten the mood

"Honestly? I'm excited because after today I won't have the expectation of MAKING a wish at all" Asha says sounding almost relieved just thinking about it.

Dahlia looks confused "Huh? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't you feel it? Like everyone expects you to have this--like-- GREAT goal you want to reach more than anything, that something you can't wait to wish for King Magnifico, and if you don't have it everyone thinks you have no ambition? Well, I don't have that something, I just want a simple life." Asha explains like this is something she has been holding inside for a while.

"... Sis, you lost me" Dahlia chuckles a little "You can wish for anything, doesn't have to be grand at all, and that won't CHANGE your life, if anything it'll just make it better." she says trying to reassure her friend even though she doesn't understand her struggle

Asha is smiling but there's a hint of sadness in her eyes, knowing her best friend doesn't understand how she feels, so she tries changing the subject "Yeah... It sure didn't make Simon happy, did it?"

"What do you mean?" Dahlia asks while buying some apples

"The droopy eyes, the constant yawning, the fact we gotta cary a pillow for him everywhere we go because he might literally collapse from exhaustion out of nowhere" Asha lists it like it's obvious (because it kinda is)

"Ah he explained that to us before, remember? Since the day he turned 18 his dad has been more strict with their training, so he can be the next captain of the royal guard. Sometimes Simon just doesn't get enough sleep"

"I know… I guess that makes sense, kinda" Asha looks down, thinking about how Simon reminds her a lot of her grandfather... But Simon is literally 21, he should NOT be acting and feeling like a man that died when he was 100, that's not right, regardless of how terrible his dad is.

"Okay I gotta ask" Dahlia interrupts her thoughts "Do you even know what you'll be wishing for, because I somehow got a feeling you don't know yet" her best friend looks at her suspiciously.

"Oh ya know, just something simple. Something that won't change my life at all-"

That comment caught the attention of a nearby juggling performer who was entertaining some children near the market, he stops what he's doing and rushes over towards the two girls while doing some cartwheels.

"After all the only one who can change my life is m-"

"MAGNIFICO GRANTS NO "SIMPLE WISH", CHILD" the jester exclaims interrupting Asha as he points his finger to her face.

"Oh- Hello there" Asha looks surprised but she can kinda already tell where this is going

Because now, it's song time!

This is a concept lyric still, with no specific instrumentals nor established rhythm yet, just inspired by "Keep your friends close" From Epic: The Musical. But in the future the song may have it's own instrumentals, with the help of @annamations03

But for now, just read these lyrics like a poem and try to imagine the vibes.

I Made A Wish

Lyrics in bold white are sang by background characters

(Jester) Child, are you not in the know? How can one not dream to have anything they wish for? Why, you’d end up hopeless and alone! But! if you’re in need of assistance Perhaps a jester with no persistence Can show just how wondrous is this kingdom we call home!

Ha ha ha I made a wish! Yes, I was as young as you! Then your majesty made me into something new Back then I was shy— You? I know, right? But now I bring joy to all of those around!�� See, it’s that simple, no need to think so much! Just look within and a wish can be found And our dear king will bring in his magic touch! Yes yes, I know how this works I’ve been living here since birth But the thing is that I don’t see any perks… Sounds like you lack self-worth What? Ha ha ha I made a wish! And my light shone brighter! Whatever you want is what you’ll get! Show some gratitude, kid, don’t you wanna be wiser? Just forget with no regret! Ummm 'Cause why would ya take the hardest route? When dreams coming true here is more than allowed So make a wish too, for your life to turn around! Whatever you want is what you’ll get! (Whatever you want is what you’ll get) (Asha Talking)  Thank you for the advice, but… I still think I can make my dreams come true on my own, I'll just  give him a simple wish because it's tradition. (Jester, still singing) *sigh*  Alrighty then, but don't forget That's something you might regret. (Dahlia Talking) Okaaaay now that THATS over,  let's go meet up with the others … Hey, this is the day for you to make YOUR wish. Doesn't matter what anyone else says that wish should be like, okay? … *Breathes in* *breathes out* Okay! Let's go!

(Asha and her friends are on their way to Safi's house to play instruments together, Asha looks around listening to background characters singing as they walk)

(Random Citizens)  I made a wish, and the king made it all better! Whatever you want is what you'll get (Whatever you want is what you'll get) Here in Rosas we got no worries, no pressure Just forget with no regret (Just forget with no regret) 'Cause in a world so cruel and unjust We can trust our dreams won't get crushed, so I made a wish, and I don't regret it! Just forget with no regret (Just forget with no regret)

(They get to Safi's house and start playing instruments together, Asha dances but internally she's very conflicted, and we get a glimpse of what's going on inside her head as she sings to herself while still listening to her friend's voices faintly. She recollects about her grandfather, and how he never remembered what his wish was.)

(Asha) It's my day, so they say  Make a wish that you won't regret Well, I know it may not go this way Cause' when you made a wish, all you got was to forget (7 teens) Today 's your day! Will the same happen to me once I wish away? To celebrate you! And what even is this wish I wanna pursue? Now it's your time Time step up those stairs and do what's expected Now it's your time You all are the only ones who I truly feel connected Now it's your time Can't I just stay here Please, let me stay here Now it's your time (????) Now it's your time

(Asha looks confused, a voice she doesn't recognize echoed in her head. But she has no time to question it, because Gabo just realized... The sun is setting.)

(Gabo) It's time… GUYS! It's time! It's wish ceremony time! (Everyone) LET' S GO! (7 Teens): We gotta go, we gotta go, we gotta go (Asha): I know, I know, I know, I know

(Citizens sing the main chorus as they run to the castle, we cut to the wish ceremony, and we see Asha and her friends getting there, just in time for the king's entrance, with a huge puff of green smoke covering the stage, and lighting effects to dazzle the public, we hear the voice of the king of Rosas echo like a thunder, as he jumps out of the smoke.)

HELLOOOOOO ROSAS!

HA HA HA Come on! Come all! It's that time again! Don't be shy now! All you'll do is gain! Just fall in line now! Here's where dreams start! Cause' if I'm your ring master then you are all my stars!

(The king dances around the stage, full of energy as he hypes up the already excited crowd. Meanwhile, queen Amable walks in gracefully and begins to sing melodically as if she's singing a lullaby. Asha is already in the line to give her wish, she's the last in line.)

Ooooh This, my flowers, is our reason for living To see all your wanting be turned into wishing So just come now ,my darlings, and welcome to Rosas Where your yearning comes true, no what-ifs and no wonders

NOW'S TIME FOR THE MAIN EVENT!

(People in line) We forget with no regret All he got was to forget What we want is what you'll get I'll finally get my wish I'll make a simple wish With just a magic swish

Oh I can't wait for it! Oh I can't wait to end this! Oh I can't wait to grant it!- ...

This last part is like the end of "We Don't Talk About Bruno" where characters sing all at the same time, and we see Asha slowly approaching the king and queen more and more as the line keeps getting smaller and smaller the more people give away their wishes, Asha's turn is approaching, and then...

She's right in front of Magnifico, he stands his hand to get her wish, she takes a deep breath and... she thinks on her wish.

...

Nothing happens.

...

The song ends abruptly.

...

Asha opens her eyes expecting to see a wish bubble.

...

All she sees is Magnifico's hand.

...

The whole crowd goes quiet. Magnifico and Amable exchange a quick confused glance to one another.

"... Is anything wrong, little one?" The king asks, staring at her expectingly but still with a very calm smile.

Asha get's nervous, she can feel everyone's eyes on her.

"I- I'm sorry your highness, I might not be focusing on it hard enough... Is it supposed to be hard?" She looks up to them both looking for some guidance.

The queen notices the girl's anxiety and gives her a soothing caress on her shoulder "Do not fret my flower, it's different for everyone, you can take aaall the time you need" She says in a motherly tone.

That does help Asha calm down a little bit, but she still can't manifest her wish no matter how hard she tries.

"Hmmm" Magnifico ponders for a moment "Say, how about you just whisper what you wish for to me?"

"... But isn't that against the rules?" Asha asks

The king can't help but chuckle at that "Well, I'll know what your wish is either way so of course the "Keep your wish a secret" rule doesn't apply to me. Come now, I promise I won't judge." He speaks in a soothing tone and a welcoming smile.

Asha hesitates for a moment, but she steps closer to the king, who's now leaning down to be on the same level as her so she can whisper in his ear.

She whispers something and...

Magnifico's face contorts from a gentle smile to a dumbfounded frown with his eyebrows raised all the way up.

The queen is staring at them puzzled, what could she wish for that threw him out of the loop so quickly?

As they slowwwwly distance themselves, the king and Asha are now staring at each other, the king still leaning down to her eye level... He whispers to her:

"... Why on earth would you wish for high grass to grow on your backyard?" the king questions like she's insane.

Asha whispers back

"... Because my pet goat likes to eat high grass... A lot... Your majesty" she adds that last part like she almost forgot to address him formally.

The king stares at her for a few seconds, that to Asha felt like it were minutes.

His smile returns to his face though, so that's good right?

But the smile turns into quiet snickering, as if the king is trying really hard to hold in a huge uncontrollable laughter, but he has to hold it in, can't lose his composure like that in front of his subjects.

Asha did have a wish in that moment, she wished the floor would eat her up so she could escape this embarassment.

Everyone in the crowd, and the queen as well, looks shocked at the king's reaction.

Magnifico takes some deep breaths and calms down.

"Oh my... hahah that's a good one, thank you, I needed a laugh today... oof okay okay I'm good, *cough* now come on, what's your actual wish?" He asks her again cheerfully

"... It wasn't a joke my king, I just have a simple wish, really." she explains with her voice sounding meek

The king realizes his mistake...

"Wait... Has no one ever told you?" The king asks her, raising one eyebrow.

"Told me what?"

"Well eh- now how can I put this... I believe you might misunderstand what I actually DO, my dear" The king starts explaining

"... Misunderstood what?" Asha is very concerned with what the answer may be

The king starts walking around Asha, circling her while he explains, similar to a teacher lecturing a child "You see... People who come here don't wish for simple mundane things, although yes, I have gotten a few who, like you, thought they could just wish to "Dance on beat" or "Have hair that touch down on their feet"... Which was very odd may I add- But the point is that my magic is not made to grant those wishes."

Asha can already feel her heart sink, she's starting to understand where the king is going with this, but she holds some hope it's not what she think's it is

"So umm..." Asha shyly asks "What kind of wishes DO you grant?"

The king looks at her with a big radiant smile as he answers her qauestion

"The ones that matter, of course! The wish that comes from deeeep inside that big heart of yours, your main goal in life! To put it simply, my child, what you must give me is the wish that makes you... well... YOU!" The king claims passionately, his demeanor full of enthusiasm like he's describing the most beautiful thing in the world.

That's it... That's exactly what Asha was afraid he'd say.

She CAN'T give him this wish because she doesn't know WHAT THAT WISH IS!

And even if she did know for sure... She doesn't want to hand it to him... That wish... whatever it is, it's HERS.

Her father used to write about how important it is to chase after what you wish for, how is she gonna chase after something Magnifico is just gonna hand to her, where's the fun in that?

Also, is this common knowledge?? How come no one ever told her she had to give to the king the most essential part of herself???People are just okay with that???? Do all those 18 year olds that came before her already have that figured out?????

(Technically the Jester did tell her, but she didn't think he was for real, the lesson is, take clowns seriously)

"Hey! Are you listening? Helloooo?" Asha is snapped out of her own thoughts by the king literally snapping his fingers in front of her face.

"I- I'm sorry I dozed off for a second... What were you saying, your majesty?"

"We were saying that a wish is what makes you who YOU are." The queen says patiently "Which begs the question, my dear...

Who are you?"

Chapter 3

Final Thoughts

"Asha's Big Day" indeed, this took me the whole day to write lmao

Okay so let me just say, the reason I focused a on Dahlia's mom for bit was because I wanted to introduce how Magnifico's magic is affecting the people of Rosas, besides just Simon who is affected because his wish hasn't been granted yet, unlike him Dahlia's mom DID get her wish granted...

You might know where I'm going with this if you read my blog explaining how I'd rewrite the villains, but if you're new, hi, welcome to the madness, you don't have to read how'd rewrite them if you'd rather be surprised by the twist.

Oh, and you surely don't have to worry about what's the symbolism behind a purple hyacinths, Asha's favorite flower, there sure is no meaning to that.

hehe

Also I legit laughed to myself for several minutes thinking about how I builded up Asha's wish the whoooooole chapter

AND IT TURNS OUT ALL SHE WANTED TO WISH FOR WAS GRASS

FREAKIN

GRASS

She must be protected at all cost.

Alrighty, hope you’ve enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, see you guys on the next chapter!

Thank you for reading!

[greetingfromthedead]

11. An Unfair Life

Series: Apple Blossoms Pairing: Knives x GN!Reader Word count: 3.1k

Author's Note: I am so happy to be back with five new chapters! Expect weekly updates for chapters 11 - 15! I am very grateful for all the support this series is getting! It makes continuing so much easier! It means a lot to me to hear that others are loving what I write!

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"How are you feeling?" you ask Knives, who sits on the very edge of the warm light cast by the gas burner. "Is your wound giving you any trouble?"

"I am fine," he says offhandedly, staring into the flickering flames.

"I know better than to just believe you. Is there any tightness in your side? Any pain? What about when you take a deep breath?" You continue, your tone amused and light, despite the underlying concern.

"Everything is fine. No pain, no tightness," he sighs, rolling his eyes and leaning backwards to look up into the starry sky.

"Then why have I seen you clutching your side? Is there something you're not telling me?" You don't yield your questioning.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he responds, avoiding eye contact by still gazing upward. He can't admit the reason why his hand has reached for the bandaged wound so many times. It's not to soothe pain, but to feel it. This is the only way he has found to distract himself from the thoughts swirling in his head for the past few days. Ever since the night you spent in each other's arms, some nagging images have kept returning. His head constantly gravitates to that moment when he held you close or the way you care for others or when the officer came close enough to you to share your breath or when he thought you were in danger. He can't let anything blind him to who you really are—a human. If he forgets that, he is no better than his brother.

"You're doing it again," you comment with some concern as you observe his hand reach across his body to cup the still healing wound. "Let me see."

Knives avoids your advances by letting out another deep sigh and getting on his feet, leaving you kneeling on the sand. He doesn't even bother looking at you; he just steps away.

"I'm just trying to help you. Please let me check. It would be worse if you ripped something!" You try to speak sense into him.

"I don't need your help," Knives replies, his tone icy and dismissive.

"What has gotten into you?" you ask, the frustration evident in your voice.

"So you want to keep your little secrets, yet you want me to lay down everything? Sly as always," Knives continues, still refusing to meet your gaze.

"What?" You're taken aback, feeling a mixture of confusion and hurt.

"You hope to gain my trust, yet you're nothing but secretive? You don't fool me with your act of caring," Knives nearly hisses, finally turning his eyes to you. He looks down with a cold, unwavering stare.

"What are you on about?" you ask as you get on your feet, anger getting the best of you. "You call me secretive, yet you barely speak to me! You're a grown man with a voice! Use it! If you want to know something, then ask! All you do is pretend to be mute! Do you expect me to read your mind or something?"

You step closer to him as you talk, your hand rolling into a fist, and part of you wants nothing more than to punch him for the comments he made. He might be bigger than you, and his muscular build hints at his strength, but if all else fails, you could just knee him in his side. You can fix him up later. You're not afraid of him at this moment, partially because you know his weakness, partially because you still trust him and believe this is just triggered by something else.

As you stare up at him, you disarm Knives completely. He really thought he could just force himself into a mindset where you are nothing but a regular human. The same as the other humans that live in his head—ruthless, selfish, and cruel beyond words. But as he meets your gaze, he can't continue that thought. He sees something more in you, something that draws his thoughts and makes the air hitch in his throat.

"So what is it? What bothers you so much? All you have to do is ask. Don't bottle it up until it blows up in both our faces!" You remain angry and annoyed, your voice higher than normal.

Without even realizing it, you lean closer, and you stand on your tiptoes to look him square in the eye as he shifts to face you more.

"If you don't understand something, just talk about it. Ask, and I will tell you the best to my knowledge. You've done it before. Talk to me." The anger starts to dissolve in you as you look at him. The coldness on his face starts to disappear too, replaced with something that looks almost sad to you.

Knives is beyond words. He can't get his thoughts in a row. He really believed he could just snap out of the feelings of confusion and the haunting thoughts of you. He has always managed to follow his own path. He has made up his mind and walked along that road until there was no more road. But this time is different. Every route he takes leads back to you. It consumes him, knowing how weak he has become. He can't do anything like this. He can't respond. He can't look away. He could reach out towards you, but what good would it do? He can't gain an upper hand with you. It feels as if you have your arm in his guts, twisting and moving them around, making his stomach tingle with unsettling and strange feelings.

You slap away his hand that instinctively reaches for the wound in his side. Knives's eyes widen at the sudden contact, and he lets his arms hang by his sides. You finally pull back, calming down enough to turn your gaze back to the gas burner.

"You know, it hurts when you say something like this," you admit more quietly, "I am not here to keep anything from you. But I don't know how to talk to you when you get quiet. I don't know if I should keep talking by myself or if you want me to shut up. You're a hard person to read. I don't want to push you away, so I left it up to you to initiate. Sorry if it made you feel like I was hiding something from you."

Knives watches as you return to your spot on the sand, but you look different. It's almost like a heavy weight has been put on your shoulders, something pushing you down, making you hunch over and curl up. A pit forms in his stomach, but not the tingly kind, not the one that makes him unsettled; this one is bottomless and empty. He sits down too, across from you, the circle of illumination between you.

"Why would my words hurt you?" Knives asks, confused.

"Because I've come to see you as my friend, and I hoped you trusted me. I see I was wrong. I shouldn't have assumed you thought the same of me," you admit quietly, only because you truly think he doesn't understand such simple things. Sometimes he sounds like a child to you; his world seems black and white, simple truths he has made up for himself.

"But why take something to heart if you don't think it to be true?" He continues, just as lost as before. The pit in his stomach is still there, making him feel like he should take back his words, but there is no undo in this situation.

"Because if someone you trust says something, it makes you think they see something you don't," you continue explaining to him something that seems obvious, "Especially when you hear something you know to be true among the accusations."

Your deep sigh catches Knives's attention, and he looks up to see your down turned face, the light of the flame casting harsh flickering shadows. It is hard to make out your expression, but it appears sad to him, making his stomach drop further. Everything about this situation annoys him. From feeling something resembling regret for saying anything at all to the way he doesn't know what you're conveying. It's like he's drowning in a sea of confusion and frustration.

"What do you mean?" Knives decides to ask, despite feeling like he reveals too much of his weakness by doing so.

"You called it an act of caring," you remind him, keeping your eyes on the burner in front of you. "I choose to care. I choose to be there for everyone who needs me. There have been so many days where it all feels too much. Days when anger seems like the only emotion I can feel. Days when disappointment and sadness threaten to crush me. But I still choose to be kind. Even if the only thoughts hammering in my head are, Why me? and It isn't my fault that we're here, dying and suffering!, I still choose to care for everybody. It's not their fault either that we're here, so I put on a smile and reach out my hand. It is an act of caring."

From all the answers you could have given him, this one pains him the most, and he can't even tell why. You could have just admitted that you don't actually care at all, that you do it for your own personal gain. It would have made sense to him, a simple truth that he expected anyway, something that aligns itself with what he thinks of humans. You could have refuted it by saying that all you ever do is truly and deeply care with every fiber of your being. He would have a hard time believing it, but that's what you have always displayed to him. He could call it a lie, and it would fit with his perception of humanity. But your real answer is an unexpected blade that twists in his bottomless guts.

"So why do you do it?" He asks, his eyes searching yours for the bravery you always seem to display towards him.

"Because none of this is their fault. They didn't choose this life; they did not choose to be pushed to the edge. They didn't have a choice when they were born onto this forsaken planet to fend for themselves with every breath they take. I can't blame my anger on them."

"But not everyone makes the same choice as you when it comes to caring. Some of them choose to do harm instead. Yet you extend them the same sort of kindness as you do to everyone else. Aren't they deserving of your anger?" Knives wonders, remembering the story of why your house is the only one left in your village.

"I am not judge, jury, and executioner. Everyone was dealt an equally unfair life here; I cannot blame anyone for the bitterness that they feel, especially when I feel it too. I have nobody to be angry at for the life we lead. All I can do is try and be better. This is nobody's fault."

Your words hold power over him. Now he understands how it feels to be hurt by words, because yours just made him bleed. The blade that you twist guts him, and he is reminded how he cannot gain the upper hand with you for whatever reason. You disarm him with everything you do and say.

"If you choose to care for everyone, no matter who they are, why did you say you don't care for Stephen?" Knives asks about the snippet of your conversation with the officer that he happened to overhear.

"He is a special case," you mutter as you turn your head away, looking at the darkness beyond the illuminated circle. "He is manipulative and deceitful. He is a narcissist who has no trouble twisting reality itself to fit with his narrative, and you have no idea he is doing it until it is too late. He made me question my own sanity, guilting me into staying with him and making me feel like I was the crazy one. I did care for him; I truly did, but every time he used it against me, it chipped away at me. Little by little, until there was almost nothing left. And he still spun his stories, told me he loved me, and assured me I was his world. It took me too long to realize just how dangerous he is. The only thing he cares about in this world is his image, and he will do whatever it takes to bolster it. He will trap anyone with his words and keep them in his net with his actions. He is cunning. I'm just glad I became aware of his true nature. I got away, and I never intend to fall into another one of his traps."

"He used you? Used your kindness for his own good?" Knives asks, unintentionally leaning forward into the light. Stephen sounds like a regular human being, and he hates that.

"Worse. I was nothing more than a badge for him, someone who made him look good, someone to brag about to others. I was barely a person. More like a tool or award."

Knives wonders where your courage went. You never showed fear towards him, yet now you hide your gaze, and you make yourself smaller, as if trying to hide between the grains of sand. He has never seen that side of you. Even as you stared at Stephen the moment Knives barged into the clinic, you looked brave. You looked angry. Nearly as angry as he felt.

Knives doesn't know what to say, staying frozen in time until your voice snaps him back: "See what asking gets you."

I have nobody to be angry at for the life we lead.

Your voice keeps repeating in Knives's head, hammering at something painful. You are wrong. You do have someone to blame. Him. He was the one to push the first domino and set everything and everyone on this path. To be fair, this wasn't the outcome he was aiming for. But it doesn't matter anymore. What a mess. Yet that is not what bothers him. None of his failed plans are the issue here. What doesn't let him sleep is the thought of how you would react if you knew. What if you were aware of everything? Knives has so many secrets, and now he has found out that he is the root of your anger.

He stares up into the sky. His eyes shift from one star to the next, travelling across the universe, visiting the millions of suns that light up the night. He used to be among them. He might still be if he didn't crash the ships. This planet would be barren and empty with nothing but worms calling it home. None of the humans who call this their birthplace would exist. You included.

Knives doesn't understand why all of this bothers him. Especially to the point of sleeplessness. What does it matter if one human's anger stems from what he did? None of the others concern him. So why does yours? It feeds into the pit in his stomach, the one that appeared there as soon as you made it clear that he hurt you.

The night is still relatively young; it just gets dark quite early. Knives should feel tired after being on the road again for a few nights. Only in a tiny village were you offered a space in an attic with actual beds, but those were just as rough as the thin mattresses on bumpy sand that you have to make do with the rest of the nights. He doesn't sleep well, waking up to every turn of his own or the shuffle of your thin sleeping bag. But now, there is no sleep for him at all, so he sits up, the blanket that covered him bunching up in his lap. With utter frustration, his hands slide across his face, fingers tangling into his dark hair. His digits curl, pulling on the strands, causing numb pain on his scalp. With a sharp exhale, he opens his eyes again, staring down until his shoulders relax and his arms fall limply on the blanket.

Knives turns his head to see you curled up on your mat. It is a cold night, colder than usual, but it doesn't really bother him. He is more than capable of withstanding both a chill and the desert heat; it has never bothered him. He barely even thinks about it. Humans are so fragile. So weak and delicate, in constant need of something. A human life is so easily snuffed out, yet somehow they are still here, inhabiting this planet, having foiled every plan Knives has ever had. It is a strange paradox. He gets up, grabbing his covers and walking over to you. He drapes the blanket over your shivering body like it is nothing. He doesn't linger, turning his eyes away as soon as he lets go of the edge.

He walks away, passing the two sleeping toma as he climbs up the dune that shelters your campsite from the wind. Far out in the distance he sees the faint glow of light on the horizon. This is your destination for the coming day. Apparently it is a bigger settlement, set up on the edge of a cliff to harness the howling winds and turn it into electricity. Your face lit up when you talked about this place. Knives was too captivated at that moment to commit the name of the town to memory; he only recalls the spark in your eyes as you praised its beauty. Knives can't believe what he has turned into. How can it be that he has become distracted and lost? How can it be that feelings and emotions have clouded his judgment? What has become of the logic and reason that used to guide him? His head is filled with your voice, your face, snippets of your very being, but underneath all that nonsense is something else. A broken melody. Scraps of a song he has never heard before. It is something new, but something still out of reach.

Some sand crumbles down the side of the dune as Knives sits down, pulling one knee up against his chest to rest his arm on. The strong breeze messes through his outgrown hair. He keeps his eyes on the horizon, fixed on the goal in sight, but it is a superficial one. For him there is no real finish line anymore. Nothing to achieve. Nothing to strive for. There is nothing in this world he desires.

This is nobody's fault.

Wrong.

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Identity Pt 4

Part (4) of Identity, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

I owe loads of responses and I'm sorry! I got the writing bug and any spare time I've had in front of a computer, I just wanted to write! Quick answer to the most common question, though: Yeah, the implication is that the contact is her dad - that'll be touched on a bit more later, though, and I'll try to actually be a good tumblr person and respond to everyone's lovely comments this week now that I've purged this chapter out!

Huge preemptive warning before even getting to the real warnings! This is one of those particularly dark chapters that may be too intense for some readers. If that's the case, I'm more than happy to make a summary for continuity's sake; just please take caution to read the tags

Warnings: torture, waterboarding, drowning, interrogation, panic, panic attack, flashbacks, self-blame, giving up, longing for death, temporary insanity, arguably inappropriate use of sedation, guilt, profanity, intense whump

WC: 3,231

Fire tore through my nose and throat, body wrenching forward with violent coughs that sent pain shooting down my side, but the movement stopped short, chest held fast to something behind me – no… beneath me? I couldn’t think beyond the desperate need for air, head shaking as though it might rid my eyes and nose of the liquid still dripping down my face as my jaw gaped around choked gasps. The distorted hum of unfamiliar voices resonated nearby, pausing mere seconds before another torrent of icy water crashed over me, robbing me of what pitiful taste of air I’d fought so hard to gain and sending me back down that spiral of panicked suffocation, diaphragm convulsing uselessly beneath that torturous burn of drowning.

Something locked around my jaw, forcing my gaze toward the blurred colors that surely hid an unknown face and drawing a startled grunt of pain from me. I could almost hear words, confident at least that they were male before my attacker released me harshly enough to slam my already throbbing head against whatever lay beneath it. I’d only just realized my wrists were bound behind me when another frigid wave was thrown at me, again leaving me sputtering for breath.

“… a patient man…” That voice growled, mind finally grasping some meager bit of clarity. “I suggest you answer my questions before things get really unpleasant.” Wheezing, I quickly looked about us for some hint as to what was happening, but the dark cell offered no clues toward who he was or where he’d taken me. I think I was tied to a chair leaning back at a precarious angle, but I couldn’t move enough to check before he grabbed me again, fingers burring into my already bruised jaw.

“Eyes on me, yuh damn rat.” He grumbled. Without conscious thought, I realized some part of me expected to find a grizzled, old man covered in scars, eyes full of enraged contempt, but that’s not who stood beside me. He appeared to barely be in his thirties, white shirt marred with sweat and blood and stains I tried not to look too closely at lest I see something far worse. Years of drinking left is stomach distended and his skin blotchy, and what light may once have filled pale, green eyes had long since abandoned him. There was no anger fueling his actions, no obvious cause for him to seek retribution from long held vendetta. This was his job, and he’d simply lost the will to be bothered by the horrors it forced him to do.

“Ah. Guess yuh weren’t really awake yet, were yuh?” He hummed more to himself than to me, “Concussions can be tricky like that…” With a deep sigh, he stepped back, hand dropping absently away from me. “Let’s start over, then.” The way he rubbed his hand over his face, the weariness dragging against his movements, it felt so painfully displaced against the way my heart raced.

“Who ordered the hit?” Lost, I could only stare at him, thoughts far too muddled beneath fear and confusion to fathom a response. “How about we start with something easier?” He muttered, though he still reached for something behind me. I heard the click of a button followed by the rush of water through pipework overhead, and the terror that gripped me was visceral, body shaking too hard to manage even a broken gasp, limbs wrenching against the shackles about my wrists and ankles.

The vague sensation of pain each movement sent tearing through my left side didn’t matter, nor the growing understanding that there had been an explosion; that everyone near the podium must have been caught in the blast, and I couldn’t begin to guess the extent of my own injuries even as I recalled the horrifying images of those far less fortunate. That knowledge, that pain, none of it mattered in the face of where I now lay: trapped before this stranger who owed me no loyalties and sought only to force answers from me that I could never give.

“Where are yuh from?” I wondered if the hint of a slur in his voice was from mere disinterest, or if he’d already begun numbing himself with some bottle stashed amidst the grime-streaked walls. “Not gonna tell me your name, either, I assume?” My jaw ground shut, gaze turning blindly to the dark ceiling above us. He offered no further warning before clicking another button to unleash the next rush of water. I managed to keep most of it from flooding my mouth, but the pressure forced enough up my nose to send me into another fit of strangled coughs.

“You’re with the Republic, yeah? Some kinda spy or something? What’s that fancy swamp planet…” He seemed to think it over for several seconds before remembering. “Naboo! You from Naboo?” Breath shattering between clattering teeth, I kept my attention turned pointedly away from him, clinging to some distant memory that it was better to remain silent during an interrogation; that even shouted curses yielded more easily to breaking than simply never speaking at all, and then I had to come to terms with that simple fact that that’s exactly what this was: an interrogation.

How long had it been since the gala? Was I still on the same planet? Was I on a planet at all? I didn’t want to acknowledge what the answers to those questions might mean; didn’t want to let myself listen for the rumble of engines or hum or air recyclers. It was easier not to know.

A tsk sounded from the man beside me, and I had to fight not to let my expression crumble beneath that fear.

“A’right.” I wanted to slap him for the disinterest in that breathy sigh, anger drawing my lips into a scowl. Again, there was no warning. A dark sack was pulled roughly over my face. I had just enough time to gasp before that water began to pour down. My chest bucked with violent fits, fighting to force some sliver of air through the endless onslaught, but it wouldn’t stop. Why wouldn’t it stop?

The was a moment when that determination first faltered beneath the weight of a panic no amount of logic could hope to supersede; a fleeting breadth of understanding just how alone I was, how little I meant, and how hopeless even the denial that forbade me from listening for engines truly was, because regardless my dreams and nightmares, regardless the sincerity of my intentions or the purpose I once believed drove me through moments when I wanted nothing more than to shatter, the simple reality was that death didn’t care and all I’d done would amount to nothing. There was no promise of one more chance, no reason swaying whether I lived or died, no thought beyond a bone-deep, primal terror, and not a damn thing I could do to change any of it.

Powerless, I laid beneath the flow of soured water, body thrashing uselessly as the man just stood there, watching; waiting. I couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, the sensation of that sack about my face constricting with each failed gasp overwhelmed every memory I’d ever made, forsook every imagined possibility of a future, dispelled whatever higher knowledge supposedly separated sentience from feral beasts, and I knew he was utterly impartial to all of it as my lungs burned, spine wrenching against restraints that offered no leeway. The weakness that crept up my limbs was a strange thing. I barely noticed it beneath the new form of darkness overtaking me, yet some whisper of frustration balked at how quickly my muscles began to fail, how deafening my heartbeat became as those frantic coughs faded beneath wet gurgles.

Still, there was some futile sense of denial, a disbelief promising me that he wouldn’t actually let me die; that this was merely some sick form of intimidation meant to break me, and I knew exactly how foolish that thought was as the water flooded my lungs.

-

Agony filled my chest, my head. Fire burned my sinuses and left my throat raw as my torso convulsed in violent coughs even as I strained for breath, begging my own body to grant me some small taste of air. It felt like waking; like I’d been asleep for ages, mind hazed beneath that fog of confusion.

“..ere yuh are… Come on back.” Was that voice familiar? I vaguely thought it shouldn’t be despite how my eyes automatically travelled toward it, unable yet to make out anything beyond a blurred shaped. “Can you tell me your name?” Were his words slurring, or was my hearing merely faltering beneath that disorientating weariness eager to drag me back into unconsciousness? I knew that question, though – it had long since become ingrained into my psyche from years of asking. What’s your name? What’s the date? Where are we, right now? Where…

My lips stumbled around an initial attempt at forming an answer but managed only a choked whimper beneath a hurt that left even strangled gasps crippling. That moment of physical hinderance was enough to grant the very beginnings of a clarity that threatened to break me as some distorted mockery of sensation slowly began to return; glimpses of soiled walls, the scent of putrid water, pain lancing through joints held fast about the hard surface beneath me, through flesh left raw and torn from how violently my body had struggled against restraints still binding my wrists and ankles, looped about my chest and stomach, and the fear that stole through me was like nothing I’d ever known.

In an instant, my heart began to race, the rhythm far too quick to not be a danger in itself, but I could spare no thought toward something so mundane as a heart attack as my every muscle began to convulse, the icy obstruction of adrenaline flooding my veins as logic and rationale faltered in the wake of memories.

“Damn… figured it’d figured take longer ‘en that.” He mumbled, and I froze at the bundle of still dripping cloth hanging from his hand, unable to either tear my gaze away nor stomach the sight of it. “‘ere’s how this works,” he started, utterly unmoved by how my body shied from him as he reached toward me with that cursed fabric. “Ain’t gotta go through any of that again if you don’t want to.” The way my every cell screamed against the feeling of that mask being pulled even halfway down my face left me thrashing anew, numb to any damage sustained from how desperately I found myself flailing against my bounds. “Just gotta answer my questions, an’ it all stops.”

There was no thought; no memory even of how to think as the first drops of water danced atop my forehead. My every muscle tightened, body wrenching away with more force than it could take. Something cracked. I didn’t feel it. My teeth ground together even as my jaw strained to open, to drag as much of that precious, stale air into my lungs as I could.

“Who are yuh working with?” Rage. There was no suffocating torrent of liquid. It was barely a splash, but he knew exactly how little work he needed to do to rend me into that hysterical frenzy that so effortlessly robbed me of all but my most ancient, primal instinct, and I loathed him for how quickly it worked, lips wrenching back into a snarl.

The next gush held none of that earlier restraint. Water filled my mouth and flooded my nose, instantly sending me into ragged, gagging coughs, body jerking in an effort to at least lean onto my side that I might rid my airway of that burning, frigid certainty of drowning.

“Who orchestrated the explosion?” I thought of the mercenary as another surge of water poured over me just long enough to leave me gasping.

How do I free him!

“Who was the target?” I don’t know if there were words in whatever scream I felt tearing through my throat, but he waited mere seconds, unmoved by my choked cries.

Tell me.

“Who placed the bombs?” His emotionless voice reverberated through the darkness, lifting the mask just clear of my lips after each question before dragging it back down in the wake of answers that left him wanting, and I could only flail atop that unyielding surface as he unleashed that frigid water again and again.

I thought of the hatred in my brother’s eyes as my mind flickered at the edges of suffocation.

“Who ordered the hit?”

Did I deserve this?

“Who’s behind the assassination attempt?”

Why didn’t he just kill me?

“Tell me who ordered the hit.”

Kill me.

“Who were you sent to kill?”

Kill me kill me kill me

“Who placed the bombs?”

His earlier boredom was beginning to turn impatient. My body barely managed to struggle anymore. Didn’t matter.

“Who ordered the hit?”

I wanted that darkness. Yearned for it… because anything was better than this endless torture, hours and seconds and years of drowning with no hope of it ever stopping, no sense of time, no sense of self.

“Who-”

The sudden flurry of sounds meant nothing. I’d long since lost any grasp on reality, more certain that I was already dead than I was that those harsh, broken wheezes voiced my own, failing attempts at breath. I don’t know when that sack had been removed nor what muttered pleas tumbled listlessly from numb lips. Flashes of grey and white armor held no meaning, nor did whispered words blaring through speakers, though I remembered some fleeting thought toward the futility of whispering into a mic.

Movement. It didn’t feel like that perceived sense of endlessly falling preceding loss of consciousness… It felt like… running? My eyelids bat against the illusion painted atop the black cloth I was so sure awaited me the instant I managed to truly see. It wasn’t until I tried to move that that madness returned. No restraints held my arms trapped behind me. No unyielding board pressed painfully into my back. I was held only by the arms looped beneath my knees and shoulders, and the instant I understood that, I fought with every hint of strength granted to me by that panic-induced insanity.

I couldn’t hear anything above the chorus of sudden shouts, focus trained solely on freeing myself of that near embrace. I’d barely begun to thrash before feeling the floor rise up to meet me, body instantly kicking out to distance myself from my captor until my heels slid useless atop muck-coated stone, doing nothing more than pressing my back more firmly into the wall behind me.

“…” Muffled words lost beneath the pounding of my heart and the rasp of air catching in too-moist lungs fluttering with hyperventilated breaths stolen between wet coughs. I tried to draw my arms between myself and the figure kneeling before me, but could barely convince my hands to twitch, flared fingers trembling mere inches above the ground.

“…! …ack! Come on, kid; come back!” His voice finally broke through that frenzy, and my eyes locked on his, every muscle freezing beyond that persistent shiver I couldn’t begin to quell. He seemed to hold his breath, waiting to see if I’d break again. My brows drew weakly together, thoughts too frantic to more than stare at him for several seconds.

“…W… Wol…” His shoulders sank at my stammered attempt to call his name.

“Right here, kid.” It was such a strange thing to hear the gentleness in his voice, but that lingering sense of wrong drew me further from the shattered recess of my mind, vaguely noting the four figures posted around us, and I didn’t need to see their helms to know who they were, that they had their weapons trained on the corridors stretching out at either side of me, ready to fire at the faintest hint of a threat. They’d found me… This was real… So, why couldn’t I free myself of that relentless fear, that deafening need to run, to find some dark corner and hide?

“I need to get you out of here.” He explained, words purposefully slowed in a way I should have taken offense to. In that moment, however, that slowness was the only reason I could make sense of them. Get out… They were going to get me out of here… but my body revolted from the very thought of letting him touch me again, of letting anyone touch…

“You can hold on to me, or I can carry you, but we can’t stay here.” I wanted to shout at that familiar, cold logic, the silent apology nestled in his hushed statement, frustration spiking at the weakness preventing my hands from clasping over my ears regardless how useless I knew the gesture to be.

“Hey – hey, look at me.” The guilt tainting his command made me want to scream even as my eyes automatically flicked back to his, some distant thought finally realizing he’d forgone protocol in favor of letting me see his face, helmet abandoned on the ground beside him. My name left his lips in a whisper, head ducking slightly to draw my unsteady gaze back toward him.

“We need to move.” My jaw tensed with curses and pleas and senseless shouts, despite my inability to hold enough breath to manage more than a stammered whimper, chest still seizing with half coughs from the phantom sensation of flooded lungs.

“Do you want me to sedate you?” He barely murmured the quiet offer, head ducking toward me. Did I… I thought of that blissful emptiness… that escape from this fear, from the pain of wounds I couldn’t remember sustaining, from the anger wrought by my own inability to force some semblance of control over myself, and, with a sob, I nodded. His expression darkened, but he said nothing as he returned the gesture.

“Close your eyes.” He whispered, and the tremble seizing through me redoubled, terror spiking at the threat of subjecting myself to that darkness. “You’re going to be alright, kid… Just close your eyes.” He promised… I’d never doubted him before… not like this… but how could I possibly believe him? I knew he could see how frightened I was, how lost I was in that fear; I knew he was counting every second wasted trying to guide me through this, how each of those seconds redoubled the risk of being caught, but he said nothing as I struggled to find myself through that panic, and he wasted no time when I finally managed to force my eyes shut.

The instant I felt the prick of needles, my body balked, managing to jump mere inches away, but his touch was already there, hand delicately catching my cheek as those fleeting reserves of strength abandoned me, muscles quickly going limp against him.

“Alright… I’ve got you… I’ve got you.” A final shiver darted down my spine as the warmth of his breath danced across my scalp, barely noting how carefully he eased me back into his arms, but the distant familiarity of finding myself nestled against him, of tasting his scent in my every stammered gasp even as I felt my mind begin to slip away was a comfort I clung to until even that faded.

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[misc-obeyme]

I think a lot of people who are currently complaining about the Main Story would maybe benefit if they just left it alone until all the Lessons finished coming out. Then just play through the Season all at once, in one go.

I don't know how many players here are oldheads (like me) but these are the same complaints I've seen for years. "The story is so boring" and "there's nothing happening" and "I don't care about X or Y this sucks" blah blah blah. There have been people making these complaints since like S2 and S3 of the original game.

Yes, obviously if you only play one Lesson every 10 days and have to wait for over a week before the next Lesson, things will feel like they're developing slowly. This is the same phenomenon that Anime fans have been dealing with since the 90s. I can name so many series where people were frustrated or disappointed while waiting for weekly episode releases, but suddenly when they watched a whole season in 1-2 days the series was way better. This happens all the time.

OM is telling a single story, over 20 individual Lessons, with a 10-day waiting period between each one. If you're finding it slow or boring, try letting the Season actually finish (or at the very least, let a few Lessons come out so you can read more than just one Lesson at a time) and then see how you feel about it. Things might flow a lot better when you don't have such long spaces in-between Lessons, and the plot might click with you more when you're reading everything in one go as a whole.

Well, I can only speak for myself, so I don't know how everybody else feels about it. Perhaps waiting until all the lessons are out and reading them all at once would indeed have an impact for some people.

I personally have only had an issue with the current season. When the first two seasons of Nightbringer were happening, I was so excited to read each lesson as it came out that I was writing unhinged posts about them every time. I wasn't bored at all and I actually prefer to wait for the next lesson to come out. It gives me time to really consider what happened in each section. But I've always preferred that. I almost never binge anything, even if I can. I like to draw it out~

Er but anyway, this particular season has been lackluster for me because the first two seasons were so full of drama and lore and I was on the edge of my seat almost every lesson. Sure there were some lessons that were a little slower and I was okay with that. I didn't mind taking a break in between crazy stuff for a little brotherly nonsense, that's what I know and love about this story.

The reason I'm bored with the science fair is that I don't see how it relates to all the plot and story they set up in the first two seasons. It was like here are two seasons where a bunch of stuff is happening, but nothing actually gets resolved. We still don't know who Nightbringer is. And I honestly would be okay with that, if they decided they wanted to drag out that reveal. But there's been no further information about him. Like if they're saving the reveal for a later season, at least give us little tantalizing hints about it in the current one.

I understand the point you're making here, anon. And I do think it could be more interesting for some people to do it that way. But for myself, I don't think it would make much of a difference. Perhaps it's also because the school related storylines are somewhat dull to me. I want more about demons and angels and stuff like Lucifer getting trapped in ice, I find science fair type stuff kind of a snooze. But that's just a personal preference!

And of course this is just my personal outlook on it! Everybody experiences the story differently and I think that every person's experience of it is valid. We all bring our own interpretations!

[meekmedea]

premise - 2 unlikely roommates: Reaper + Coriolanus

Will they ever get along? Keep reading to find out!

Definitely some horrible first meeting where Coriolanus says something VERY questionable. Probably classist. Which sets the mood for them getting to their dorm and realizing - you're my roommate?!

Listen, they both tried to request for a room swap, but the school denied the request.

These two rooming together go as well as you think it might. It doesn't go very well. Their ideal day is one where neither perceives the other.

Over time, they occasionally meet each other's friends in passing. And both sides are usually like: wow, I don't know how you room with them.

2 of Coryo's friends that he bumps into the most

Sejanus. They see each other on campus a bit. Overtime, he's like - this guy isn't that bad. No idea how he's friends with Coriolanus though. Through him, he meets Marcus and the two bond over Sejanus' questionable taste in blonds.

Clemensia. They run in different social circles and neither got along well the first few times. Even if they didn't talk. The vibes are not vibing lol. It takes a lot longer for the two to start talking, much less warm up to one another.

The school year continues. Oddly enough, Clemensia is really bad at keeping appointments. She's always knocking on their dorm room wayyy before Coriolanus is there. Reaper's not going to make her to wait outside. That's kind of cruel. Also, she's so strange - insisting on coming all the way to his dorm to return a pencil that she borrowed the last time they studied together.

Coriolanus has not clocked this oddness yet. Like Reaper, he thinks Clemensia is terribly forgetful with remembering meet up times.

Sejanus watches this in exasperation. Clemensia is running out of hints to give. Felix and Nia are NOT qualified to give any flirting advice.

Don't worry, he realizes. Eventually. (ie. his sketchbook is full of drawings of a certain Dovecote)

Can't remember what the conflict was going to be, but both Clemensia and Sejanus' friendship with Coriolanus end up becoming strained for different reasons. There is a close call - Sejanus nearly decks Coriolanus, but refrains as he decides he's above this. Meanwhile Clemensia follows through and decks the blond at a party. (Felix cheers in the background!)

They both still come around the dorm to hang out with Reaper. But Clemmie is a lot more petty about her presence than Sejanus is.

And by the time we get to the end of the school year, Reaper has found better roommates for next year, he's living off campus with some friends. Coriolanus also mysteriously gets food poisoning and spends the first week or two of summer break sick.

[priderock-inc]

How did Scar get his scar?

A couple of neighborhood kids beat him up when he was eight. Mufasa rescued him, but instead of being angry at the bullies, Ahadi was furious with his younger son for letting himself be attacked like that.

He made both boys start karate lessons the very next week, despite Uru's protests and the bandage over Taka's eye.

(A fic I did a while back) (under the cut if you'd rather read it here)

"New screen?" Sarabi asks, peering over Mufasa's shoulder as she sets two steaming cups of coffee down on the desk in front of the CEO. Zazu looks up from the papers he's shuffling through. He rather resents interruption, but for caffeine- well. He'll make an exception. 

Mufasa chuckles, deep and melodic. "Mother sent it to me yesterday. She likes looking through old photos every now and then."

Intrigued, Sarabi leans closer, and Mufasa tilts his phone so Zazu can see too. Torn between professional decorum and innate curiosity, Zazu hesitates. It's hardly necessary to see such a thing. It's personal, it's-

-it's a child's drawing, a red stick figure with a wide, beaming mouth and deep orange fusilli sprouting from its head, holding hands with a smaller figure, done in black with two spots of vibrant green crayon in the spherical thing resting atop the body.

"It's you and Taka!" Sarabi coos. "Oh, how adorable! How old were you when you did this?"

All thoughts of professionalism crumble and are lost to Zazu's mind. "Taka?"

Mufasa's voice is tinged with fond reminiscence and something else that Zazu can't quite name. "He started going by Scar when he was about eleven. Thanks for the coffee, Sarabi, you're a lifesaver. Could you get Rafiki's signature on this, please?"

Taka?

Sarabi takes the proffered document and leaves, still grinning, and Zazu swallows. 

Taka? Surely no parent would give such a foreboding praenomen, Scar, to a baby- but he can hardly imagine the VP by any other moniker. 

Mufasa correctly interprets Zazu's silence. He shrugs, a hint of sadness flickering across his face, almost too quick to catch. "He doesn't like to talk about it. Don't mention it to him, all right?"

"I won't say anything to… him," Zazu murmurs. The name is strange, almost taboo, in his mouth when he allows himself a taste. "To… to Taka. I won't mention it."

"And what precisely is it that we are not going to mention to Taka?"

Zazu utters a thoroughly undignified squawk of shock, spinning on the spot. He hadn't even heard the door open.

But for once, Scar doesn't delight in the flustered state he's managed to land Zazu in yet again. He stands in the doorway, white-knuckled fingers clenched around the folder in his hand, his usual effortless poise gone in the rigid lines of his posture.

"Memory lane," Mufasa says, lightly, and Zazu is very, very glad that the venomous green gaze isn't directed at him, slicing him to ribbons. The CEO holds out his phone. "Remember this drawing I did, the one I was so proud of? Mother sent me a photo of it yesterday."

Scar's mouth twists into a vicious, ugly sneer. "Ah, yes. The one I've been begging Mother to burn for the past decade. How deliciously innocent. Unmarred. Unscarred."

"Scar-" Zazu stammers, because apparently his mouth has a death wish.

"Zazu." Redolent poison caresses each syllable.  "Always so eager to assist and advise, hmm?"

Mufasa makes a quick gesture, half-conciliatory, half-warning. Scar ignores it entirely, viridian sabers now boring into Zazu.

"How's your onomatology?" he breathes. "Why might my worthless father have bestowed such a name on me?"

"I-"

"Taka. Trash." The word is a sibilant hiss. It slithers through the air, curling around the room's atmosphere, suffocating it. "Garbage."

The walls seem to constrict.

"Scar." Mufasa stands up. "This isn't the time or the place-"

"For cheerful jaunts down memory lane, brother dear? No? Did Mother send you other photos to pass around to the staff? Of beloved Mufasa and darling little Taka, smiling, holding hands, happy?"

"Scar."

"Of Taka's long curls before dear Father took it upon himself to shear them off? Of Taka, who thought the world was full of magic and wonderful things to discover, thinking he'd one day learn the coveted secret of how to please the man who couldn't be pleased at anything that wasn't from his golden boy?"

Zazu swallows hard. He'll take flustering over this, any day, he'll take anything over this. 

"Taka and Mufasa, together forever." Scar gives the drawing one last withering look. "How nice it must be to have such memories preserved, with none of the lingering darkness surrounding them."

He advances several steps; Zazu tries and fails to stop himself from shrinking back, but all the vice president does is drop the folder abruptly on the desk before turning on his heel and striding out the door.

It closes, as quietly as it had opened.

Zazu grabs one of the cups and takes a gulp of the scalding liquid.

Ever the optimist, Mufasa breaks the silence with a subdued murmur as he slumps back into his chair. "That really could have gone a lot worse." 

Another boiling mouthful of coffee. It burns as it goes down, but it clears Zazu's head a bit. Strangely, the only question he can think to ask is-

"Did he really have hair like that?"

Mufasa's gaze softens, and he nods slowly. "Yes. He's always liked it long. That's why he wears it like this now. He had the nicest black curls."

Yet another swig of hot caffeine. Sarabi really is a lifesaver.

"...it also means wish."

Zazu tries to respond without swallowing. It doesn't work very well. Coughing, he manages, "Whuh?"

"The name Taka. It can mean wish or want."

"Your mother's influence," Zazu croaks, still trying to clear his throat.

Mufasa nods. He picks up the folder Scar left and starts paging through it, dropping his head so Zazu can't see the look on his face.

"It was a nice drawing," Zazu offers, somewhat belatedly, after the awkward silence had gone on too far for comfort.

It earns a laugh. "I think my talents lie in other directions, Zazu. I'm hardly the professional artist type." 

"I suppose not." Zazu chases away the last of the lingering chill- and the encounter that caused it- with the remainder of his coffee, and fastidiously turns his attention back to the papers on the desk.

[fireemblemsiblingsweek]

The Rules

These rules should be relatively straightforward, but I want to make sure nobody's confused. They will be in a question and answer format.

Q: What is this event about?

A: This week is about creating art and stories focusing on siblings from the Fire Emblem franchise.

Q: Which siblings can I do?

A: You can choose any siblings, no matter how major or minor, from any game, whether that be a main game like Shadow Dragon, Sacred Stones, or Blazing Blade, or a spin-off like Warriors: Three Hopes or Heroes.

Q: Do the siblings have to be full blood relations?

A: Nope! Any sibling pair/group is fair game: Full, half, step, and adopted.

Q: Are OC siblings allowed?

A: OCs are not allowed. However, if you want to do a fan design of an unseen, already existing character, for example, Princess Lillia from Path of Radiance, or Hubert's unnamed siblings from Three Hopes, then go for it!

Q: What if I want to draw a picture of, for example, Felix Fraldarius mourning at his brother Glenn's grave? Would that count, because Glenn wouldn't actually be seen?

A: That would still count! As long as the other sibling is very strongly hinted at/talked about, it counts.

Q: Do I have to do the same characters for every day of the week?

A: Nope! You can do the same pair/group as many times as you want, or do a different pair/group every day. It is entirely up to you.

Q: Do I have to post a work for every day of the week to participate?

A: Nope! You can do as many or few days as you'd like. Want to do just one day? Sure! Want to do all seven? Great! Want to do multiple works for one day? You're insane! I mean- go ahead!

Q: What's up with the prompts?

A: Each day has two prompts to use or mix as you'd like. Or if they don't strike your fancy, ignore them at your pleasure. This is supposed to be fun, after all! ;)

Q: Once I've created my work, how do I participate?

A: Simple! Post it on the corresponding day (or if you didn't follow prompts, on whichever day you decide it's for) and tag it "Fire Emblem Siblings Week 2023." And you're done!

Q: What will you do with my post after that?

A: At the top of this blog will be a directory of all participants. Once you've posted your first work, I will put a link to your blog in the directory, along with a description of who your work is about. I will continue to update that description as you submit posts.

Q: Will you reblog the entries?

A: I will reblog as many as I can, however, I have a reblog policy some might call strict. I am a traditional Christian, and therefore am not comfortable reblogging posts with strong language, excessively scanty girls, and other things. You will still get into the directory, but just a heads up.

Q: Is there anything that is prohibited in this week?

A: Yes. Some pairs/groups of siblings are adopted and can canonly be married, for example Corrin and Xander, and Sothe and Micaiah. Please do not draw a picture or write a story that is blatantly romantic. This is about siblings, not shippings.

After that statement, it should go without saying that romantic interactions between blood relations are prohibited!

Another thing that should go without saying is no explicit art/stories. That means no Ao3 stories that need that rating, or equivalent stuff on other sites.

If you do this sort of thing anyway, I might take your name off the directory and block you. So don't.

A brief disclaimer: I am likely not going to read every fic that is entered. Therefore, I am not necessarily going to know if someone is breaking the rules. Read everything at your own risk!

Q: Do you have any extra stuff you want to say?

A: Yep! Fates and Awakening have a specific mechanic which I was asked about. Namely, the second generation children. So for example, on one play through, I might have Robin and Chrom get married, in which case Morgan and Lucina would be siblings. However, on the next play through, I might have Robin marry somebody else, and Morgan would be siblings with some other kid. Would Morgan and Lucina still count as canon siblings? In my book, yes. As long as it's a possible combination in the game, go ahead.

Q: Anything else?

A: Probably safe to have a disclaimer here, just in case: As the mod of this week, I may do things at my discretion without offering an explanation. I am trying to be fair, but I just thought I should say that.



Thank you for reading the rules! Hopefully they weren't too long. If you have any questions or suggestions, just send an ask. I have never done anything like this before, so hopefully I'm not botching things!

Now get out there making cool stuff, and let's all have a good time!

(Unless you're just here to watch, in which case, also have a good time, ya mooch! ;P XD)

[sylvidoptera]

The tiny fae sat atop the neck of the ancient snapper, holding on to his bag of parchment and writing instruments. He let his mind drift for the walk, knowing that the habit of countless years would take the larger dragon's feet exactly where they needed to go. Muscle memory was a wonderful thing.

The mental memory, however, was slippery and you always took it for granted until it was gone.

As they reached the tablet in the middle of the clearing, Scribbles could feel his great-great-grandmother perk up. The sight of the polished rocks she'd called her desk for ages would always draw her out of the slightly disconnected place she spent the majority of her time these days. His own spirits brightened instantly and he grinned with anticipation.

While Tomo puttered around her desk setting up everything just so, Scribbles fluttered to the two sides of the path that came through the trees. Most of the locals knew that the famous researcher was now struggling with dementia and would treat her accordingly; but sometimes strangers would come through and laugh at "the daft old lady" who handed out coins for simple answers over and over.

As the fae put the second sign up, its block letters reading "PLEASE BE KIND", he heard himself called back. "Scribbles! Everything is ready! You need to be in place if you're to get any work done with me today!" Tomo's voice was affectionate and filled with the same eagerness that had driven her to learn everything she could when she was younger.

"Yes, Grandmother! I was just putting up the 'open' signs for our sources."

"Good boy! Hopefully we'll get someone who knows what they're talking about today. I swear, some people just are woefully ignorant. But that's alright! We can teach. Everyone likes to learn, right?"

Smiling a little bit sadly, Scribbles nodded. "Of course." He set up his parchment, inkwell, and quills and prepared for what the day might bring. "We can only hope that everyone today will learn something valuable."

As the day wore on, Tomo never lost her enthusiasm. Whether the answers were wrong or right, she learned something (again) or the dragon who gave the wrong answer was able to have a new fact to take home. Every silly little drawing, recipe, or imaginary prose Scribbles wrote down was met with a gently amused patience and joy that her grandson was so talented and creative.

Those who were in the know would quietly drop their coins back into the basket hidden in the bushes next to the tablet. Tomo was endlessly generous, because she didn't remember that she no longer was a highly-paid scholar. Everyone in the area was so proud and so fond, they would simply make sure that she would never run out of coins… for Tomo insisted on paying for correct answers. Her pride and generosity would allow nothing else.

At the end of the day, Scribbles packed up his equipment and looked at the slowly fading light in his beloved grandmother's eyes. "The sun is going down, Tomo. Time to head home. After all, brains need rest to be able to process all this information."

"Right you are! You're such a good apprentice. If you're lucky, my desk may be yours someday. But not for a long time. There's still so much left to learn." Tomo looked over the clearing one last time before Scribbles climbed up on her back. With a deep sigh that was full of contentment - and a hint of unconscious sadness - the ancient dragon let her mind slip into the twilight she'd been fighting as her body carried her home.

Scribbles looked down at the head that held the most beautiful mind he'd ever known. No matter how many times the fog took her away, he would work hard to bring her out into the light. If that meant spending every day like today, so be it.

Wiping away a tear and sitting up straighter, Scribbles smiled as Tomo started gently rambling a story from her childhood. It was one of his favorites. The little dragon pushed away any shadows from his thoughts and enjoyed the rhythm of the familiar words.

Tomorrow was another day… and there were always questions to ask and answers to give. For what was life without learning and love?

[zepskies]

Oof, yeah I didn't give you a whole lot to go on with the tags, did I? 😂 It was a very angsty last part, but still full of fluff and good-hearted moments. 💗 Can't wait to see what you thought of Part 9!!

Totally worth the PTSD if you asked me 🤣

Ha! Same lmfao.

Lol so relatable. That's all of us at some point. I remember doing this when I started dating my husband. Now, not so much... 😂

Haha right? If you've ever seen the movie What's Your Number? (Chris Evans and Anna Ferris) There's a scene there I was kind of drawing from with that early morning "let me sneak out of bed before he sees my bedraggled ass" loll.

Gah, he's so cute! Such a goddamn keeper! 😍 Just imagining his arms around me makes me giddy 🥰

Girl same!! lol I was smiling all while writing this scene. 🥰

I love how your readers are always the best bakers 😁

I've just noticed that this is a habit of mine! loll I just love to cook and bake, so I guess that just comes through in my reader characters. 🥰

Loved that you addressed that! That was a hard subject to write around. I ended up letting Emily decide in the series that I'm currently working on. She's sixteen, after all. Old enough to make those kinds of decisions 🤓

Ooh yeah I had to. It was the crux of the conflict in this chapter, and I thought it was a great opportunity to create one last hurdle to overcome in this narrative.

Lol omg we're twinning again, Ursula!! 🤣 Like-minded as usual on giving the decision to Emily. 💗 I totally agree that she's old enough to decide for herself, especially considering how much she's gone through.

Emily might be my favorite character overall. Love that girl, her quotes, and the way you write her! 🫶😂

Hahaa I love it!! I loved exploring Emily's character and getting that teenager sass. 💕

The chat she had with Carla was quite unexpected and then went as expected. I love that she spoke up and advocated for Beau, though. That took some guts, considering she's taking to the ex-wife of the man she wants to date 👀💪

Yeah I thought it was important to have that final tete-a-tete between the reader and Carla. After what the reader's been through, she's not so afraid of Carla as she might have been before. 😂 But she tried to broach this as respectfully as possible.

Ouch. Such a Carla line and kinda mean. I love the subtle hint of jealousy you can read between the lines 😆

Ooooh yeah, Carla got a bit bitchy and mean there. Definitely defensive, and a hint jealous. 😝 She thinks the reader is trying to tell her how to raise her daughter (not the case, but I could see how someone like Carla would take it that way).

Like, I said above. I made the same decision. Again, great minds think alike, Pheebs 😘

Hahaa love the twinning strikes again!!

Also such a Carla thing that she'd hate on his trailer 😆 You're nailing her!

LOL thank you so much!! I thought she would silently stick her nose up at the idea of him living in a trailer.

The ending was perfect! I loved this series so much! You've done a wonderful job with it! Can't wait to see what else you've got planned for these two 😍❤️❤️❤️

I'm so happy you loved this series, friend. 🥰 I had such a great time putting TMH together and exploring Beau and the rest of the Big Sky cast. And I so hope you enjoy the next two stories in the TMH-verse! Thank you again for taking the time to share your thoughts on every chapter. 💕

Take Me Home - Part 9

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from. 

AN: We’ve made it, friends. 🥹 But stay tuned, I have a special announcement after the end of this chapter.~

Word Count: 4.1K

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 9: A Choice to Make

There was a man in your bed.

You were pleased to discover that, although your kidnapping of two days ago hadn’t been a dream, being held warm and secure in someone’s arms this morning wasn’t either.

After slowly blinking awake, you looked up from a familiar freckled shoulder to find Beau’s peaceful face. His hair was a floppy mess, his mouth parted in sleep. It made you smile.

His arm was heavy around your waist. It was nice, but you contemplated how you were going to get over to the bathroom and freshen up; maybe fix your hair, brush your teeth, put a little makeup on…

You were careful in how you grasped his hand. You were about to try and peel his arm off without waking him.

“If my alarm hasn’t gone off, means it ain’t morning yet,” Beau rumbled with his eyes still closed.

You stifled a laugh, but you tried again to pull his arm away. He held you to him tighter.

“Where you think you’re goin’?” he asked. His southern drawl was thicker when he was sleepy.

You giggled lightly and rested back against his bare chest in defeat.

“Was gonna try and fix myself up a little, before you saw me in the raw light of day,” you confessed.

You’d caught a glimpse of the yellowing bruise on your cheek last night in the bathroom mirror. It wasn’t a pretty sight. You weren’t really sure how Beau could see past it.

But at your words, Beau finally cracked his eyes open. He made a show of glancing up and down your body, clad in just your black silk camisole. He couldn’t see the rest of you under the blankets, but what he did see, he liked quite a lot—aside from the parts of you that were still healing.  

“You look just right to me,” he remarked, tugging at a strand of your wild, likely knotted hair. “Damn beautiful too.”

Your smile of amusement grew, along with your blush. 

“Flatterer,” you accused. Though you rolled off his arm, fearing you were cutting off his circulation. You moved onto his chest instead, where he held you by your waist and you rested your head over his steady-beating heart.

“Nope. That’s the truth, darlin’,” he said, with a deep sigh. You didn’t see the way his eyes closed in contentment. He knew he’d have to get back into work today, not to mention check on Emily and Carla. For now though, he could focus on this. On you.

“Where do we go from here?” you asked. It was a mere whisper against his skin, but he heard you just fine. It was a good question.

“Eggs or pancakes?” he posed.

You smiled, but you shoved at his shoulder.

“You know what I mean,” you said wryly.

Beau’s resulting deep breath raised you as well. He nodded, brushing your hair back away from your face. You pushed up enough to look up at him.

He gave you a quirking smile.

“I want this to stick,” he admitted. “I wanna take you on a proper date and make it official.”

You smiled back at him. “I’d like that.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “We’re in agreement.”

But you didn’t realize that anything official would take more time than either of you thought. 

Two weeks later, you returned to the precinct with another basket, this one full of snickerdoodle cookies for the whole squad. Poppernak was especially excited when you handed them over to him.

Beau must’ve heard your voice, because he came out of his office to greet you with a broad smile.

“Well, hey there,” he said. You went to him with a smile of your own, but you waited until he’d led you into his office by the small of your back.

Once he shut the door behind him, he pulled you close by the waist and greeted you with a proper kiss. You didn’t even mind the scratch of his beard against your chin. You just caressed his cheek and met him with as much as he gave.

But all too soon, the kiss dimmed to embers, your lips parting softly from his. He thumbed at your cheek.

“To what do I owe this little visit?” he asked.

“Nothing really,” you said. He sat on the edge of his desk, and you followed him, standing between his legs. His hand stayed comfortable on your hip. You toyed with the top button near his collar.

“Fall semester is starting up in a couple of weeks. I don’t have too much of the summer left,” you said. “I’m trying to be ready but…I don’t know.”

You were a bit nervous about it. After the ordeal of this past month, you’d started seeing a therapist to work through some of that trauma. Sometimes you had nightmares, found it hard to focus on things during the day. You worried that it would affect your work once your classes started up.

Beau knew what that thinly veiled worry in your eyes meant; you’d confided in him after your first therapy session a few days ago. He had been supportive, and even somewhat open to your suggestion that he see a professional himself, for the things he still held deep inside.

“The rocky summer’s almost over,” he encouraged, squeezing your hip. “You’re gonna do great, sweetheart.”

You thanked him with a smile, though your fingers became more gripping on his shirt.

“There is something else that’s kinda bothering me,” you said.

Beau grabbed your hand and held it. “What’s that?”

You leveled him with a knowing look.

“I’m just curious on what we’re doing exactly,” you said. “Considering you still haven’t asked me out ‘officially official.’”

Beau’s lips pressed together with a guilty sort of smile.

“Okay, yes, I’ve been working on that,” he said. 

You laughed incredulously. “What’s to work on? It’s a simple question. I promise you, I have a simple answer.”

“But it’s not quite that simple,” he said. That made you pause, along with the sobered look on his face. You slipped your hand out of his and crossed your arms.

“What do you mean, Beau?” you asked.

He grasped your arms gently and let out a deep breath.

“Okay. I just talked with Carla last night,” he said.

It wasn’t a great way to kick things off if he wanted to reassure you. He seemed to know that, and so he spoke quickly.

“After everything that’s happened, she’s thinking of selling the house and taking Emily back to Houston,” he said.

Your face fell with shock. You laid a hand on his chest; to steady him or yourself, you didn’t know which.

“Oh wow,” you uttered.

“Yeah,” he nodded. He dragged a hand over his mouth. You had a feeling this news had been keeping him up at night.

But, you had to voice a thought that began to make your stomach churn with unease.

“Are you…would you move back too?” you asked.

Beau met your gaze with a conflicted one of his own.

“Besides the fact that I got a lot of ghosts in Houston, there are important reasons why I should stay. Why I want to stay,” he said. He picked up your hand again and held it with both of his. “But I also want and need to be there for my daughter.”

You nodded, even as tears burned in your eyes. You knew how hard this time was for Emily right now. What she needed was stability. She needed her father.

“I don’t know what to do here,” Beau admitted.

It was hard, but you breathed through your upset and tried to reign in your tears. You met his gaze and squeezed his hand back.

“You know what I want,” you said, “but you need to do what you think is best. Both for Emily, and for yourself.”

“That’s not an easy question to answer,” he said.

You shook your head. “It might not be, but that’s where we are.”

Your eyes fell to your joined hands, until Beau propped a finger under your chin, guiding your face back up to his. He gave you a kiss that was supposed to be sweet, and comforting.

He only succeeded for the moment.

“Oh God, it’s like I don’t even know you!” you exclaimed. Though you were still laughing.

Beau raised a finger in protest. “Hey, I stand by pineapple on pizza—”

“Alone, Dad. You stand alone,” Emily said. She had a recorder app going on her phone, placed between the three of you in your living room. This marked Episode 1 of her podcast, and already it was going off the rails.

“It ain’t that bad. That’s all I’m saying,” he laughed, holding up placating hands. “Pizza is pizza.”

“Said the human garbage disposal,” you smirked. “Where do you put that one, in your second or third stomach?”

“Nah, the fourth one,” he said, patting said stomach. “It’s got the most room. Very handy at a buffet. Or at Donno’s diner when he puts out the weekly specials.”

You laughed. Beau grinned. Emily made a face of disgust.

“Okay, gross,” she said. “Moving on to the next question.”

“How many you got there anyway?” Beau asked, reaching for the piece of paper she’d printed off with all of these “Questions for Couples.” He’d caught sight of a few spicy ones on there that he’d rather not be asked by his daughter, let alone put on record.

Emily snatched the paper away before he could take it from her.

“Okay, next. What’s the first thing you noticed about each other when you met?” she read off.

You and Beau glanced at each other with curious smiles. That was something neither of you had talked about just yet.

“How about for you?” Emily directed her question at you first. You blinked wider eyes.

“Oh! Um…” you trailed. Beau crossed his arms, adopting a sly, expectant smile. You bit your lip to avoid laughing in embarrassment.

“Okay, well, as you know, we met on that camping trip. If I remember right, I saw him from behind first,” you recalled.

“Liked what you saw, huh?” he teased. You laughed and tried not to blush in embarrassment.

“I noticed how tall he was. I wondered if a mountain man was coming to join us,” you quipped. Beau’s smile kicked up a notch. “But it wasn’t until he turned around, and I saw his handsome face…for me, it was his eyes.”

You were a bit bashful to admit that, but when you looked over at Beau, said handsome face had softened a touch. His hand snuck behind you to settle at the curve of your waist, stroking a thumb along your back.

“And for you, Dad?” Emily asked.

You shot him an expectant look. Beau cleared his throat, looking between his daughter and back to you. Then his smile returned.

“Well, I noticed right off the bat that she was beautiful, of course.”

“Good answer,” Emily nodded, laughing a little. You couldn’t help blushing.

Beau slipped his hand off your waist to come up and brush your cheek instead.

“For me though, it was her smile that did me in,” he said. “She looked up at me, and I uh…yeah. That got me. Was thinking about her for a while after Cassie and I left the camp.”

With that admission, you found yourself melting further. You looked down at your folded hands in your lap, trying to save face, but Beau wouldn’t have it. He took one of your hands in his, brought it up to his lips, and pressed a kiss over your knuckles, making your face warm up further.

Emily watched you both in amusement. She smirked at the next question listed on the page.

“Okay, who pays on dates? Is it Dad every time?” she asked.

Your expression turned dry as you glanced at Beau.

“Well, I wouldn’t know, considering we haven’t been on a real date yet,” you remarked. 

Beau gave a tight smile.

“All right,” he said. “Next question, please.”

A couple of days later, you crossed paths with Carla by chance while you were getting office supplies. She was getting moving boxes. There was a stack of them in her cart.

After exchanging some painful small talk, you heeded a gut instinct that had you offering to buy her lunch. So the two of you went to a café in the same plaza, where you each had a sandwich and fries.

“Can I ask you something?” you said.

Carla smiled, taking another fry. “You mean can you ask me something uncomfortable?”

You stifled an awkward laugh. She really was a good lawyer.

“Yeah, that,” you said.

“Sure,” she replied.

You stared back at her for a moment, steeling yourself. You both knew what this was about to be. It was a conversation weeks in the making, but it didn’t make it any easier to begin.

You decided to peel off the Band-Aid.

“Do you still love him?” you asked. You knew you didn’t have to specify whom. Carla sighed and set down her iced tea.

“In a way,” she replied. “I’ll always care about Beau, and I want him to be happy, I do. This has all just been…too much.”

“I understand that,” you said.  

Carla hid it well, but there was pain behind her eyes as she looked away. Your heart broke for her a bit. She’d barely been remarried a year before this hellish summer uprooted her entire life.

Now she and her daughter were living in a big empty house that was meant to be for three. Carla had just finished telling you about her plans to sell it, but that also implied that she and Emily were moving.

“Part of this is my fault, I know,” said Carla. “I’m the one who married a man like Avery—”

You gently stopped her with a hand on her wrist. You met her gaze with empathy.

“What he did, and what happened after, that wasn’t your fault,” you said. “I know what it’s like to be with a man who lies.”

It took her a moment, but Carla accepted that with a slow nod. You took your hand back, and once again, you tried to gain your courage to dive into deeper waters.

“I also understand that you have to do what you feel is right for Emily, but…”

Carla met you with a more wry tilt of her head. “Let me guess. You don’t think we should leave Montana?”

Your gaze fell. “I know it’s not really my place to say—”

“And if it was?” she countered.

Your lips pressed together. Well, if she wanted to hear your opinion, then she would have it.

“Look, Carla, I was with Emily through the worst of it,” you said. “I know very well what she’s been through. But another out-of-state move when she’d just started getting acclimated, possibly separating her from her father, is that the right call?”

“You’re assuming Beau would stay. For you?” Carla asked. Her words were pointed. Sharp enough to cut you.

“I won’t lie. I don’t want to lose him…but despite his responsibilities here as Sheriff, I suspect he might leave if you asked him to. If it was for his daughter,” you said. Letting out a breath, you looked down at your folded hands on the table. “I love Emily. I want him to do what’s right for her. But selfishly, I want him to take care of himself too.”

Carla considered that, and you, with a nod.

The two of you continued sipping your iced teas for a while in silence.

When you asked for the check, the server informed you that Carla had already paid for it.

The woman gave you a parting smile before she left. You weren’t sure if she’d done it to treat you, or just to win.

That same night, Carla invited Beau over for dinner with her and Emily. It was pizza Friday, like they used to do as a family.

It was familiar, but different now.

They all were different.

Carla asked them to join her in the living room afterwards, with Emily sitting in a lounge chair while her parents sat on the couch. Beau wasn’t sure what Carla was up to, but he was going along with it.

She took in a deep breath, folding her hands in her lap, and focused on her daughter.

“Em, I need to ask you something.”

The girl looked confused, and a little apprehensive at this point.

“O-kay…”

“I know this past month has been…hard for all of us,” said Carla. “Especially for you, sweetheart.”

She took Emily’s hand.

“You know I think it’s best that we go back to Houston,” said Carla. Emily dimmed at that, and her mother could see it. It pained Carla inside to come to a realization…

“But, I think maybe I made that decision for me, not for you,” she said. She had to blink back the sting of tears. “So, what I’m asking is, do you want to go…or do you want to stay here in Montana?”

Beau glanced over at his ex-wife in surprise. He’d never known Carla to change her mind on anything. But now, now he had hope.

He tried not to show any of that to his daughter though. This was up to her now, and he would support whatever she said next.

“R-Really? I get to choose?” Emily asked. She had the beginnings of tears in her eyes as she looked between her parents. 

Carla nodded, attempting a smile through her own tears. “Yes. I, and I’m sure your father, want to do what’s best for you here. What do you want to do?”

Emily considered the question. Yeah, she missed her friends back at school in Houston. They still texted and kept in touch through social media all the time, but she knew it wasn’t the same.

She hadn’t been happy about moving to Montana at first…but after meeting Cassie and Denise, helping them with their cases—it made Emily feel like she was doing work that mattered. That something she did really, truly mattered, and would help people. That was a cool feeling.

Also, she’d met you. She’d begun to find a kind of older sister in you. Someone who encouraged her projects and her creative side without thinking it was too weird, or too annoying. And of course, she could see what you meant to her dad now.

Besides all that though, she just had this gut feeling. Like going back to Houston would be like going backwards.

Emily’s lower lip wobbled. She tried to stop it, but her emotions bubbled over.

“I like it here,” she admitted. “I…I want to stay.”

Beau welcomed his daughter over into a warm hug between them on the couch. Carla rubbed her back and nodded.

“Okay,” she said. “Then we’ll do that.”

They stayed like that for a while. Until eventually, the teen wanted to go back to editing her podcast. She was getting a hang of the editing software, and she wanted to post it online by the end of the week.

“Okay, but I want to hear the final cut before that gets released into cyberspace,” Beau called after her when she ran off into her room.

Carla shook her head and wiped her face dry.

“I still can’t believe you let her record you,” she said with a laugh.

“You and me both,” Beau admitted. If you hadn’t cajoled him into it, he probably wouldn’t have.

And the thought of you had him smiling to himself, more warmly. He’d couldn’t wait to call you…but no, this was something he should tell you in person. He turned to Carla.

“You’re sure about this? About staying?” he asked.

She nodded with a sigh. “We’ll just downsize to a smaller house. Though I will need you to keep sharing more of the custody responsibilities with Emily, presuming you’re able to get out of that trailer of yours.”

Beau wanted to argue that there was nothing wrong with his trailer (sure, it was a bit small. They’d been managing just fine). But as to not look a gift horse-in-the-mouth, all he did was nod in agreement.

“I’ll work on that,” he said.

“Thank you. Beau, I’m grateful for you,” Carla said. Her eyes were honest. “You gave me our daughter. And I’m glad you’ve gotten better, that you’ve been able to work through some of your issues. I think your girlfriend has had something to do with that.”

A smile quirked at Beau’s lips, and he nodded.

“That she has,” he said.

After his shift the following day, Beau met you at the end of your painting lesson at the local art studio. Everyone was starting to pack up their painting supplies. He managed to come up from behind and surprise you.

He tapped you on one shoulder, but appeared on your other side, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He laughed in light of your gasp.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted.

You narrowed your eyes at him in amusement.

“Hey, yourself,” you replied. “Good timing! I just finished.”

While you gathered up your supplies, Beau admired your latest painting that was still drying on the canvas. He whistled lowly.

It was a landscape of Mount Helena. There was mist near its mountain peaks, and dense trees at its base, and wide plains of green, dotted by a couple of horses ranging free.

You swiveled toward him in your chair and looked up at him with a smile. The same one that caught his eye when he met you.

“After everything, everything, I don’t regret coming here,” you said. Your voice shook a little, and your eyes shone with emotion. You stood from your seat and slipped your hand into his. “This is still the place where I got the courage to start over. And it’s where I met you.”

Beau’s face softened.

“So no matter what you decide to do,” you said, “I won’t ever regret knowing you, Beau Arlen.”

His own smile crinkled the corners of his eyes then. He swept a gentle thumb across your cheek.

“I came to tell you that Carla and Emily are staying in Montana,” he said. “So am I.”

You sucked in a trembling breath. Your tears bubbled over and fell, but his hands were there to catch them, framing your face.

“But aside from all that,” he said, with a note of humor gleaming in his eyes. “I’d really, really, like to ask you out to dinner tonight. Call it ‘officially official.’”

You laughed and smiled so bright. You nodded and let him pull you into a warm embrace. He just surprised you by hefting you into his arms next. You yelped and clung to his shoulders.

Your art instructor, as well as a couple of lesson goers remaining in the studio, clapped and whooped and laughed at the way he started carrying you towards the exit.

“Wait, wait, go back! My stuff!” you said, gesturing at your workstation.

Beau graciously backed up so you could grab your bag of paint supplies and your canvas from the easel. It was a little awkward, but you both laughed as he tried to angle you out the door of the studio. He started walking you down the sidewalk.

“Where’re you taking me? My car’s that way,” you pointed in the opposite direction.

“I believe I asked you to dinner,” said Beau, with a teasing grin. “I don’t wanna waste no time.”

You wanted to point out that your hands were stained with paint, and you weren’t dressed for a date in your jeans and plain sweater, and this wasn’t exactly what you meant by asking you out…but maybe you didn’t need a “color-coded list” for everything.

Maybe you could let yourself be a little spontaneous for once.

“Okay, Beau,” you breathed a laugh, and rested your head on his shoulder. “Take me wherever you want.”

“Oh, don’t you worry,” he said slyly. He kissed your forehead. “I’ve got plans for you.”

When he reached the passenger side of his truck, he set you down on your feet. He unlocked it and held the door open while you set down your things. You pivoted on your heel and grabbed the front of his shirt, so you could pull him down to you for a kiss.

He tasted like the promise of good days to come.

AN: And there we have it, friends. 🥹 I truly hope you enjoyed the ride on this series. I've had so much fun exploring Beau and this version of him and the reader. I hope you'll let me know what you think of the finale here. 💓

But, their story's not quite over yet.

Read the Sequel: A Good Man Is Hard to Find

Summary: When Beau starts pulling away from you and Emily during a very difficult case, will the pressure make or break your relationship?

▶️ Keep Reading: A Good Man Is Hard to Find

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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[madebysoupy]

Thank you all for the nice messages in the tags you leave on my art! It means a lot to me

I've never felt so appreciated and encouraged before

Nothing makes me happier than knowing my art is positively affecting others

So thank you all for letting me know 💕💕💕

And to my family tree friends: thank you for welcoming me into this community the way you did!! I wouldn't have had the courage to post or even make any of the drawings we have now

Thank you thank you thank you!!! 💕💕💕💕

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC Review: The Duke Gets Even by Joanna Shupe

5/5. Releases 1/24/2023.

For when you're vibing with... Enemies to lovers, duke in the streets/freak in the sheets, Sagittarius-coded heroines, rough sex, and lines so romantic they'll make your heart grow three sizes.

Once upon a time, there was a romance series, and it was a great romance series (one of my favorites, easily). And in the first book, The Heiress Hunt, you got the rare legitimately compelling friends to lovers moment--but who stood between the friends (who became lovers)? The hot, perfectly coiffed, gentlemanly Duke of Lockwood (Fuckwood). Rather conspicuously during this novel, the heroine's best friend, bon vivant girl about town Nellie, was all, "You should not marry the Duke of Lockwood!!! He's the worst!!! Why? I shall not elaborate!!!"

And so, for the next book, The Lady Gets Lucky, Lockwood romanced another heroine in the hope of getting dollar princess dollars. But lo, he was cucked. Again. In the third book he didn't even try, but he still sort of got cucked, because why not? That's hilarious. But throughout the series, you get these little hints and asides that suggest that while Lockwood and Nellie hate each other, they really hate how much they want to absolutely rail the fuck out of each other.

Thus, we get The Duke Gets Even.

Truly, I don't know that I've ever been as excited about a romance release as I am about The Duke Gets Even. I was practically campaigning for an ARC of this book. And I have no regrets, even though I don't think that campaigning mattered much, because I have read this book several times since I got the ARC, and it is glorious.

There's something about a great historical romance series--wherein all the books do stand alone, but when read in sequence, you get these great tidbits of how a happy couple is doing, or who might come next. The Fifth Avenue Rebels has been great in this sense, giving us several parallel stories that all spin off of the same wild Newport house party (and building a core group of friends that I love). But undoubtedly, the couple that Joanna Shupe has been teasing the entire time is Nellie and Lockwood--a spitfire rich girl with a keen sense towards reproductive justice, and a seemingly uptight duke who needs to marry an American heiress in order to secure his estate's future. Reading previous books (which again, isn't necessary but is fun, not least of all because they're just good books) you know that Nellie has actively campaigned against this man getting with any of her friends. Now we see why. And we also get a love story that is less about his worries over her reputation, regardless of what the setup may make you think... and more about Nellie's fears of emotional intimacy and what an uncertain future with Lockwood (government name Andrew, I'll add) could hold. Trust and believe: the man is all in with her quite early in the book--while Nellie's journey really imitates a traditional historical romance hero's journey. God, Joanna Shupe's brain.

Quick Takes:

--Yes, this book is hot as fuck. Yes, he's a bit of a freak. To get it out of the way: Lockwood likes rough sex. Fortunately, Nellie also likes rough sex! He's into biting her and leaving bruises, she's into scratching him and drawing blood. There's a wonderful moment when he promises to ~stick to the outside~ because of previous exertions that lives rent free in my head. While I would say the sex in this book is very intimate and vulnerable and oftentimes emotional, I wouldn't say that it's like... "He parted my tender petals" sex. Which, like--is why Joanna Shupe, in my opinion, writes some of the best sex scenes in historical romance. Easily. The sex Nellie and Lockwood have feels authentic to who they are and their relationship.

--So much water in this book! I love a motif. Nellie and Lockwood meet in the water; swimming is an important part of life for him; they bond over her dad letting him use the indoor pool (Cornelius Young, my brother in CHRIST, setting these two up for naked pool shenanigans... He said "If my daughter's gonna have wild sex in inappropriate locations, I'd rather it be with a gentleman who adores her"). Lockwood's always like "Nellie is a beautiful winsome mermaid, I find that so annoying".

--I love that much of the emotional crux of this book does surround Nellie's love of women and her desire for a maternal figure. She does have one, but the loss of her mother is still acute, and that felt very emotionally authentic to me. Also: there is an amazing undercurrent of being the last single woman in your group of beloved female friends, and how lonely that can be, and oof--I've never read that in a historical in a manner that isn't about the woman wanting to get married, but the woman feeling isolated from her friends, and stunted somehow. Hit me real hard.

--I feel like it's important to say that this book is obviously very timely. Nellie does crusade for women's rights, and she has had an abortion in the past and has zero regrets about it. She distributes birth control to women who really fucking need it (that is: women who don't have the money to get it through illicit channels like Nellie and her friends do). It's very well done, and while I anticipated Nellie's activities putting her into conflict with Lockwood... They really don't? Not in the way you're thinking, at least.

--There is a lot of interesting "here's what a duke actually was in society by this point" shit, which I found hilarious and a great takedown of the "all powerful duke" in historical romance. In many ways, Lockwood is very alpha and take charge and everything you want from a historical romance hero. But also, the conceit of his entire plot since day one has been that he is BROKE. And he's in America! He's basically a fun little party guest! With no money! He came to the States with his title, his massive cock, and a dream.

--The dirty talk in this novel? The amount of times he'd just call her "darling" after instructing her to do a sex thing? "I'm going to cover you in bite marks, darling"???? There's such a fun back and forth in the dialogue between these characters. You definitely get filled in on the time that's passed over the previous three books, and how Nellie and Lockwood have been dealing with their shenanigans in the background of the other love stories. It leaves you with two people who aren't friends but do know each other quite well, and can't resist the urge to dig at one another.

--I love Nellie so much. Easily a top heroine for me. (Who does in fact get on top.) But I will say that Lockwood's inner monologue was just... fabulous. The amount of times this man would just be like "WELP. ONCE AGAIN THE WORLD IS HERE TO SHIT ON ME" when he wasn't just rhapsodizing over Nellie? Honestly, a relatable king.

--There is a thing in this book that did yield a moment and a love confession in which I did tear up, and I'm kind of impressed by how Shupe to chose to leave it. Like, I know how I'm interpreting shit, but--especially considering a recent discussion on romance Twitter--I found it intriguing.

This is just what I wanted it to be--a good dose of enemies to lovers, a man who's butt crazy in love, and a woman who can't deal with it. Also, the kinds of ridiculously hot sex scenes that only Joanna Shupe can deliver. God bless. I couldn't recommend it more.

Thank you to Netgalley and Avon for giving me a free copy of this book exchange for an honest review.

[ckjbun]

What kind of ability would Higuchi have and its potential name?

Hi to whoever is reading this! This is my first self-written post so I’m still figuring out how all this works and I’m sorry, if it gets a bit chaotic. Anyways, recently, I came across a question regarding Higuchi from Bungou Stray Dogs. It was about what Higuchi’s ability would be called and what type it would be. So I won’t go into details whether she has an ability or not. I believe she has since she is named after an author (and Asagiri himself kinda confirmed it via Twitter). Thus, I just want to write my thoughts on the potential names and kind of ability. 

Since abilities in the BSD world are always named after rather well-known works of the authors, I compared some of the famous works of Higuchi Ichiyo. Now mind you, I haven’t read her works myself. I mostly relied on comparing summaries and analyses of them. Since there are not a lot of summaries, I read two lesser-known stories myself. I will add the links of the summaries/analyses of the works down below. However, while comparing I found two works that would fit Higuchi. Now, first what do I mean by “fit”? Well, it might be best to start explaining what I think about the type of Higuchi’s ability.  

I believe Higuchi has not an offensive type of ability. Nothing like Atsushi’s, Akutagawa’s, Kyouka’s etc. If she had, I’m sure she would have used it already, since she’s fighting a lot with her guns, why wouldn’t she use her ability as an addition, why would she hide it? There are two possibilities why we haven’t seen her ability yet. First possibility would be that her ability is not visible like Odasaku’s or Ango’s, maybe it’s even an ability that she hasn’t even discovered, just like Fukuzawa hasn’t realized he has one before the ADA. Second would be that she can use her ability only under stringent conditions. And I believe it’s the latter, hear me out. 

Remember this scene from Chapter 14? Higuchi reaches out to hold Akutagawa’s hand but then pulls back because she remembered him saying that he doesn’t need her help. Now, you could argue that holding the hands of injured loved ones is a gesture of closeness, a way to show them your support, a way to tell them that you’re staying by their side. And Aku doesn’t want this support, so that’s why she retracted her hand. But something bothers me here. In this scene it looks like Aku slapped Higuchi’s hand away, doesn’t it? And then he says, he doesn’t need her help, instead of support. I know, you could say support and help are almost the same. But to me, help is something that you do more “actively”, while support can be something passive. What if Higuchi’s hand represents this “active” help? And what would actively help Akutagawa in this very moment? A healing ability for example. Coincidentally, in the panel before, Hirotsu asks Higuchi what power she posses to make them [the black lizard] obey. Is this a hint that there is a hint about Higuchi’s ability in the next panel? Maybe. But let’s look at the next panel. It’s the title page of this chapter. 

As you can see, Higuchi has a bandage wrapped around her leg and they seem connected to Akutagawa. In this chapter, it is revealed that Higuchi contemplated about leaving the Port Mafia but her reason for staying is implied to be Akutagawa. This is perfectly symbolized by the bandages in this title page. The bandages coming from Akutagawa are holding her leg back, stopping her from walking away from the PM. But maybe there is a second interpretation? If you’re looking at Akutagawa’s left hand, the bandages are starting to come off. What if this means Akutagawa is healing and doesn’t need the bandages anymore? Instead it wraps around Higuchi’s leg, restricting her movement. What if Higuchi’s ability allows her to help someone else (doesn’t have to be necessarily a healing ability) but in exchange she needs to sacrifice something? Anyways, I think she has an ability which allows her to help other people in a non-combat way. With this in mind, I was looking through several works of Higuchi Ichiyo, searching for something that “fits”. Meaning that I was looking for parallels and themes in irl Higuchi’s stories that could be “converted” into an ability. Just like the coat that the protagonist of Rashomon stole in order to now die of hunger was used as Akutagawa’s ability which seems to be able to eat everything, or like the wish that one’s brother does not die in war in Thou Shalt Not Die became Yosano’s ability and serving as a basis of her background story. Anyways, I’d like to present the works that could be used for Higuchi’s ability and draw some parallels. 

1. The Thirteen’s Night

The story revolves around a poor woman, called Oseki. Thanks to her marriage to a rich man, her family was able to live a better life and her brother found a job. But on the thirteenth night of the ninth month of the lunar calendar (one of two special nights for moon viewing), Oseki visited her parents with the intention on asking her parents for approval for divorcing her husband. Before entering, she overhears her parents talking about how lucky they are that they have such good children who don’t cause trouble and that they are very thankful for this marriage. Hesitating at first, she finally goes in and admits that she wants to divorce her husband because he abuses her mentally. He insults her constantly and tells her that she's worthless, stupid, and uneducated. Her mother is outraged. But her father, even though he acknowledges her suffering, reminds her what her husband has done for this family and that she would lose her son since women couldn’t get custody of their children after a divorce at that time. Agreeing with her father, Oseki decides to go back to her husband: 

“It was selfish of me to think of a divorce. You're right. If I couldn't see Tarō, there'd be no point in living. I might flee my present sorrows, but what kind of future would I have? If I could think of myself as already dead, that would solve everything… Then Tarō would have both his parents with him. It was a foolish idea I had, and I've troubled you with the whole unpleasant business. From tonight I will consider myself dead — a spirit who watches over Tarō. That way I can bear Isamu's cruelty for a hundred years to come.” 

– In The Shade of Spring Leaves, translated by Robert Lyons Danly

Just like BSD Higuchi contemplates leaving the PM, the protagonist here wants to leave her husband. The PM is like the husband. It allows her to support herself and probably her family (at least we saw that she has a sister). But there is constant abuse. Akutagawa is clearly the biggest source of abuse that we can see. But it’s not only him. In Chapter 14, Mori asks her if she is really suited for this job. Telling her indirectly that she is useless or that she is too weak for the PM. Later, you can see the Black Lizard doubting her capabilities, even threatening her. But just like Oseki she stays because of a loved one. What really concerns me is Oseki saying that she will consider herself as a dead spirit watching over Tarō. What if Higuchi, in order to use her ability, has to sacrifice part of her lifespan? Or maybe she loses a feeling? Like e.g. she loses the ability to feel happiness, making her a bit more dead inside? If you draw this parallel, you could also say that when ‘consider myself dead’ is the condition of the ability, then ‘watching over Tarō’ is a hint to Higuchi’s ability. An ability that allows her to watch over and protect her loved ones? This theme fits Higuchi perfectly, since a big topic in Higuchi’s story line is how she wants to help and protect Akutagawa. So it makes sense that her ability might be something that would help him (**intensely squinting at the recent events in the manga, especially chapter 88**). Moving on to the second possibility before the pain starts to set in. 

2. Takekurabe (literally: "Comparing heights", "Child's Play" in the Robert Lyons Danly translation, "Growing Up" in the Edward Seidensticker translation)

Now this is considered as Higuchi Ichiyo’s masterpiece. So the chances are high that the ability is based on this story. The story accompanies a group of children who live next to the Yoshiwara quarter. There are two rival gangs: the main street gang (’omote-machi’), lead by Shōtarō, a cultivated young boy who is the grandson of the owner of a pawnshop, and the back street gang (’yoko-chō’), lead by Chōkichi, the impulsive firefighter’s son. (Maybe a parallel to the ADA with (cultivated) Fukuzawa and the PM with Mori who’s a doctor which belongs into the same category of occupation as firefighters?). Among the main street gang, there was Midori, popular and pretty, who lives in the brothel where her sister works. Shōtarō probably has a crush on her. But Midori probably has feelings for the other main character, Nobu, the son of a Buddhist priest. Even though he returns her feelings, he distances himself from her out of his self-consciousness. Later he joins the rival gang after repeated request by Chōkichi. Anyways, they spend their days very care-free, attending school, playing with each other after school. One day, some conflict arises between the gangs and Midori, while protecting someone else, gets slapped by Chōkichi with a sandal. He then proceeds to tell her that their gang is backed by no other than Nobu. Midori feels humiliated and stops going to school. Soon she also stops playing with the other children. After some time passed, Midori is seen with her hair all done up. She has become a distant, lady-like young woman. This probably means that she got her first period and is old enough to become a prostitute or that she just had her first client as a courtesan. Little by little, the children grow up. Nobu is sent off to be trained as a priest and Shōtarō has come to accept the responsibilities of his family’s shop. 

There are several themes in this story that I’d like to point out, namely unrequited love, Midori’s transformation and underlying unchangeable fates. The first one is obviously a big theme in Higuchi’s story. Midori and Nobu are unable to express their love for each other because of their positions in life. Just like Higuchi is unable to express her feelings for Akutagawa. If you want some hope, AkuHigu shippers, maybe Aku has also feelings for Higuchi but is still very confused and self-conscious about it just like Nobu. Anyways, because of their positions in the PM, it would make everything very complicated if Higuchi confessed. Additionally, Midori feels like she was humiliated by her love when she got slapped by that sandal. I’m sure that Higuchi gets humiliated by Akutagawa a lot. The next theme is Midori’s transformation from a tomboyish to a lady-like, distant woman. We all know Higuchi looks really badass in her suits. But again, look at the title page of chapter 14. Higuchi is dressed up all prettily and lady-like in a dress, and her hair is done all up. Just like Midori after her transformation. Midori’s transformation stands for Midori accepting her occupation as a prostitute even though she doesn’t want to. In this chapter, we see that Higuchi has accepted her job in the PM, even though she doesn’t want to do this job. At the end Shōtarō sings the following: 

"Growing up,

she plays among the butterflies

and flowers.

But she turns sixteen,

and all she knows

is work and sorrow."

– In The Shade of Spring Leaves, translated by Robert Lyons Danly

I don’t know about you guys, but to me that necklace that Higuchi is wearing in that title page looks like a butterfly to me. This is really farfetched but maybe this could be a hint about when Higuchi joined the Port Mafia? However, the biggest theme in Takekurabe is the underlying unchangeable fate of the children. Shōtarō was destined to become the next owner of the pawnshop, Nabu was destined to become a Buddhist monk and Midori would become a prostitute. Maybe this gives us some insight into why Higuchi joined the PM? Maybe one of her parents was a PM member? I also like to think that since Aku is in the PM, since she wants to be with him, she can’t but stay in the PM, and this is her fate. Nevertheless, fate is a central theme in Takekurabe. This is the reason why I think, if the ability is based on this story, Higuchi’s ability would be something like changing fates. Changing fate of someone else but in return she must sacrifice something. 

Okay, so this post has become quite long. But I still wanted to mention two other stories Yamizakura (Flowers at Dusk) and The Sound of the Koto where I saw a lot of parallels. I just want to briefly tell you the story of The Sound of the Koto. In this story a woman abandons her son in order to leave her husband who has a bad reputation. The husband then turns into an alcoholic and dies later at a party because of alcohol intoxication. The boy becomes hardened to the world, despises his mother for leaving them, and even contemplates suicide. The story shifts then to a woman playing the koto.  I want to give you an excerpt for the end of this story: 

“On this night the sound of the woman’s playing helped another to be reborn. Through fourteen springs and fourteen autumns, the boy had been buffeted by the rains. His heart had gradually toughened until it had become as hard as stone. No arrow could penetrate it. He seemed destined to follow the example of his father, to die among the fields or in the mountains, where his remains would be bleached by the elements. Some were convinced the boy’s life would end in prison chains, while his bad name spread to every roadside. 

But now, at once, the tenderness buried in his heart was freed by the midnight strains of the koto. For the first time in many years, he felt tears come to his eyes. Or were they jewelled drops of dew? He would not exchange them for anything. 

He, who had known neither love nor compassion, and who had no idea what the player of these refrains could even look like, felt a moment of happiness as the music drifted over the garden wall. […]

[…] How could a stormy wind blow now? The clouds in his heart had disappeared. Once more the woman began to play. The sound of the koto would be his friend for a hundred years, the seed for a hundred years of yearning. He had entered a world where a hundred different flowers wer in bloom. 

– In The Shade of Spring Leaves, translated by Robert Lyons Danly

This boy somehow just reminds me so much of Akutagawa. Just like this boy, without any parents and home, wandering around in this world, Akutagawa has become hardened to the world. I’d like to think that Higuchi’s ability could free Akutagawa from his pain, just like the sound of koto does for this boy. 

So, now I said everything I wanted to say, I guess. If there is really anyone reading this and reading this until here, thank you so much! I appreciate it very much that you kept reading even though my thoughts are probably quite chaotic. I’m sorry if there are any grammar mistakes or weird sentence structures or anything like this. English is not my first language. I’m very happy, if you could point out any mistakes or have any suggestion for improvement. Lastly, I just want to remind you that these are my thoughts, I love discussing so feel free to comment your thoughts but I’d like you to keep in mind that there is not necessarily a wrong or right, theories are theories, interpretations are interpretations. Everyone has another interpretation. They can only be proven wrong by Asagiri sensei himself. Until then just keep the discussions friendly and tolerant towards other people’s thoughts and opinions. 

Sources:

All manga panels used in this post are from easygoingscans

Higuchi Ichiyo (樋口 一葉)

Higuchi Ichiyo: "In the Shade of Spring Leaves"

In The Shade Of Spring Leaves: The Life Of Higuchi Ichiyo, With Nine Of Her Best Stories, translated by Robert Lyons Danly

In the Shade of Spring Leaves – Ichiyō Higuchi, Part 1

“Flowers at Dusk” and Other Notes – Ichiyō Higuchi, Part 2

“Encounters on a Dark Night” and Other Notes – Ichiyō Higuchi, Part 3

“Child’s Play” and Other Notes – Ichiyō Higuchi, Part 4

HIGUCHI ICHIYŌ: BADASS WOMEN IN JAPANESE HISTORY

The Thirteenth Night (Wikipedia)

Female Subject, Interrupted in Higuchi Ichiyō's "The Thirteenth Night"

GAME OF TRADITIONS: TRADITION IN THE THIRTEENTH NIGHT AND DIARY OF A MAD MAN

HIGUCHI ICHIYŌ IN MODERN JAPANESE AND EUROPEAN DRESS: Modern Japanese versions (gendaigoyaku) of Higuchi Ichiyō’s Takekurabe and their Relationship with English, Castilian Spanish and Catalan Translations

Separate Ways Summary

Literary Analysis of “Separate Ways”

Flowers at Dusk

Nigorie (Wikipedia)

From the Margins of Meiji Society: Space and Gender in Higuchi Ichiyō's "Troubled Waters"

[greensagephase]

Ana, THANK YOU!!! I very quickly want to say I'm sorry for the late response!! I've been doing a lot of cleaning the last couple of days and got caught up with other things, but thank you for the lovely words!!! I'm so happy that this chapter had you feeling so many emotions, hehe, even punching your desk (that was me reading your dream AU fr!!)!!

About the playlist, a lovely reader said they always looked forward to the music I posted on the chapters and that's how it led to me creating one with all the music I listen to when I write, so we have an official playlist now!! I'm really happy with it and I hope you enjoy it!!

Your spidey senses were right!! I was leaving little hints about something happening in the holiday one-shots with the Christmas lights, hehe 🤭🤭 I'd like to hear your thoughts on this and the company!! Maybe you're on to something... 👀

PETER!! You inspired me include that little part in this chapter after your AU!! I was like.... let me leave a little hint for future reasons - make it more angsty (I'm sorry 😭). But thank you for the inspiration!!! I was so happy to include Peter as always, even if it breaks my heart each time because I miss him so much!! But yes, Peter warned reader about the fire!! And omg, Miguel saying similar things to Peter - we're having some parallels here now (we're gonna have more!!), but I loved Miguel giving reader this compliment!! It's such a big step for Miguel!! Also, I'm so happy so many readers love the "Always" !!! Sometimes I think it's repetitive but I find it so cute because it's their own little thing!!!

OKAY - THE SCRATCHING FROM THE RECORD PLAYER!!! I needed to include it and make it canon that Miguel uses his record player so much because he's soothed by the sound and the music, and it reminds him of reader, making him feel less lonely in his big penthouse 😭 I just wanted to give him a little comfort!!!

THE PINKY SQUEEZE!!! There's no more loopholes for Miguel !!!!!! I was trying so hard not to cry at this because this is such a big milestone for Miguel!!!! I'm so proud of him 🥹 and you're right, this is THE pinky squeeze!!!!!!!!!!! It might or might not, change things.... ☺️ but, I FEEL YOU!!! When I first came up with this gesture being their first form of physical contact, I was losing it and just imagining what it would be like!! I was wishing and craving for a pinky squeeze for the first time in my life (I still am - just for this man)!!😭

OMG YOUR DOODLES!!! THE ANXIOUS KITTY CLAWS!!! Let me just say that was such a little moment but I was lowkey giggling at how cute it was to imagine Miguel doing this when he's anxious (also trying not to lose it at the fact that he cares about reader so much he's this anxious for her safety 🥺 he really cares about her so much!!)!! Also the pinky doodle!!! AHHH!! I hope to see the mashup of all of these but no pressure of course!!! I'm also sorry for making you draw hands so much 🤣 although, I'm also happy because I get to see these lovely doodles and it helps my obsession with Miguel, hehe!!

Okay, I had to include agua de horchata after you mentioned loving it and then since we talked about tacos, I was like, you know what? We need some tacos and agua de horchata in the story after the fire as a comfort food!! So, I included both items!! Also, my chapter layout changed a bit once i started editing, so the chilaquiles, polvorones, and garibaldis didn't make their appearance in this part, but they'll be in the next chapter!! Be ready for some amazing chilaquiles by Miguel!!

Also, I LOVE your setup for reading the new chapter, and the fact that you had CHILAQUILES and AGUA DE JAMAICA!!! You win best reading vibes!!!

Thank you for your lovely words and the amazing support as always, Ana!!!!! ❤️ I LOVED the DOODLES and I hope we can see them soon!!!

Nonviolent Communication - Part 12

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader Summary: An unexpected temporary change. Word Count: 24,291 Warnings: A building catches fire; someone falls; mention of injury Previous Part Masterlist Music Inspo (You can find the official Spotify playlist for the fanfic here ! It includes all the music I've listened to throughout the chapters for writing, including music for the one-shots, and some songs I decided not to include originally in the chapter posts. This was due to the romantic context they have and we're not at that point yet, but I was using them more for vibes if that makes sense? The lyrics are not relevant, not yet anyway.🤭) "Spider-Man" - John Paesano "Moving Forward" - John Paesano "Blue Moon" - Billie Holiday "Nonviolent Communication" - Metro Boomin, James Blake, 21 Savage, A$AP Rocky "Another Dimension" - Pop Money

Part 12

You sleep peacefully under warm covers in your once shared bedroom. Your arms are wrapped around a pillow, the one that used to belong to Peter. You once slept in a different position but ever since his death, your sleeping position changed. You began to hug his pillow at night, pretending that it was him because his scent was on it. Those days led to years and now, hugging a pillow is the only way you can sleep, even if the pillow has long ago lost the scent of its owner. Your head rests on the pillow, like how it used to rest on Peter’s chest at night when you laid in bed and talked about anything and everything in the comfort of your small apartment.

It’s how you lay now on the same bed you’ve had for years. You’re resting, peacefully and calmly. Sleep has a strong hold on you as you dream - of Peter. You sit in your living room and watch as he browses through your bookshelf, the old one. Your eyes scan it, noticing it’s in great condition. If anything it looks like it did when Peter was alive, almost brand new. He mutters quietly to himself as he searches, his fingers tracing the books’ spines, searching for a specific title.

“Found it,” Peter says before he turns around to face you, showing you the book by holding it up.

You smile at him from the couch as you catch his playful grin before he approaches you, and takes a seat next to you.

“We haven’t read this one in a while. I think it’s time. It’s winter after all,” he says as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, gently pulling you into his warmth.

“It is winter,” you confirm as you lean into his touch, into his body. You sigh softly, taking in his scent. You close your eyes for a few seconds, relishing it. It’s been so long but you know it so well - as if it were your own scent. It brings you so much comfort and peace, it reminds you that there’s another scent that incites those same feelings now. Miguel’s.

You open your eyes as Peter begins to read. His voice is gentle and warm, and his arm is still wrapped around you. You look at him and smile before looking around the apartment. You hear Peter but your mind still registers the mixture of the old and new decorations in the apartment. There’s the old bookshelf you had but the photographs on the wall are different. It’s small things like that. You turn away and snuggle closer to Peter, having to stop yourself from almost murmuring his name tenderly in response to the feel of his body, his warmth, his scent. Peter is really here with you. You’re together. Again.

You feel Peter’s arm gently tighten around your shoulders, caressing your arm in an affectionate way as he reads. You feel at peace sitting with him in your apartment.

“Wake up,” Peter says gently.

You sit still, listening to him read and letting the sound of his voice surround you, believing that his previous statement is part of the story.

“Wake up, love,” Peter says, forcing you to face him. His tone is still gentle but there’s an edge to it that wasn’t there before. “Please wake up.”

“What-Peter?” you ask softly, confused.

“Please wake up, love. You need to wake up.”

You look around, noting the urgency in Peter’s tone. “Peter, what’s happening?”

“I love you,” he whispers, leaning closer and pressing his forehead to yours. “Everything will be okay, darling.”

“Peter!”

You sit up in bed, gasping Peter’s name. You look around your bedroom, breathing rapidly. You swear you can still feel his warmth but it’s fading quickly.

“Peter,” you whisper in the darkness as you realize it was just a dream. You sigh heavily, trying to come to your senses. It has been a while since you dreamed about Peter and you can’t help but feel shaken up by the abruptness at the end. It was so sweet, like how it used to be when Peter was alive. Even in the darkness, you long to be back in your dream, if only to feel like that again - to feel and smell Peter, to hear his voice.

You rub your eyes gently, yawning and contemplating your dream for a few seconds when your spidey senses go off. You look around quickly, going still to listen intently for sirens - for chaos. You hear nothing. You get out of bed regardless, walking to your radio, the one that alerts you of emergencies. You wait for it, but before any feedback comes from the device, the smell reaches you first.

Smoke.

You sniff again because you believe that you’re mistaken and that the scent must be something else. Yet, smoke is all you can smell.

“Fire?” you whisper to yourself before you rush into your suit.

You change quickly and put your gizmo on before you check your apartment, finding nothing, so you slip out through a window to check what’s going. Your eyes widen when you see it, disbelief and shock hitting you at once when you discover that one of the floors is in flames. Your heart sinks at the sight.

“Wake up.”

You frown as you remember your dream, Peter’s words specifically. It couldn’t be, could it? Did he warn you somehow, or is it just your imagination? You fix your mask, pushing your thoughts away for now, before you launch into action. You quickly move to the main floor on fire, breaking a window and slipping inside. The change of temperature is instant. Outside, it’s cold, being the beginning of winter, but as soon as you’re inside, you feel the heat from the flames. The smell of smoke is stronger now, filling your nose. You call out for someone, eyes searching for civilians as you move through the flames. You hear someone scream, causing you to turn in that direction. You carefully make your way there, knowing you need to hurry before the building is engulfed in flames with the tenants inside.

You find your way and discover a young woman that looks familiar. Your brain tries to identify her but in the heat of the moment, you can’t.

“My friend! She’s inside the bedroom! I think she passed out from the smoke, please get her out!” the woman says, covering her nose from the smoke, with tears rolling down her face.

“I’ll get you out first!” you reply grabbing her arm and pulling her towards you. “Once I get you out, call the police! I don’t think anyone has called yet!” you order her, as you try to hear for sirens but fail to.

You shoot your web, securing her and lowering her down the building until she reaches the ground before you begin to search for the other person. It doesn’t take you long to find the person. A young woman lays on the bedroom’s floor, passed out. You quickly check for a pulse and after finding one, you carry her out of the building, carefully delivering her to her friend on the ground. The first woman notifies you that she has called the police and that they and firefighters should be on their way. You also notice a small crowd of random people have gathered, so you instruct them to stay back and to not enter the premises.

You glance at the building for a few seconds, praying that it doesn’t go up in flames completely. As you swing back to the building’s wall, you thankfully hear sirens in the distance. You slip inside through a window belonging to another apartment, not caring to startle the tenants as your main priority is to get everyone out now. You quickly evacuate the floor mainly affected before you move to the floor above and below. At this point several tenants have heard the commotion, making your job easier in quickly evacuating them. However, you realize not everyone comes out, so you enter apartments, calling out for tenants you’ve seen in passing over the years, and finding some of them scared and shocked by the circumstances, so much that they don’t realize they need to get out. You find other individuals still sleeping and unaware of the situation, and must wake them up. The process is hard for you as you have to ease people’s fright from not only waking up to a masked person, Spider-Woman, in their homes, but also from the news of the fire as the flames grow and spread.

As you safely deliver some people out of the building, you notice the firefighters and police have arrived. The police has secured the premises, keeping the gathered civilians from entering the building while firefighters move quickly to stop the fire. As you lead a civilian to safety, you can hear someone talking over a megaphone, trying to wake up tenants from the floors above, still unaffected.

“Spider-Woman!”

You turn, pausing just as you were about to lunge off the ground. You find a firefighter, realizing it’s the captain. You don’t recognize him, which leads you to believe he’s new.

“I have people working on putting out the fire, and others on evacuating. These people have told me you’ve been evacuating tenants. What about the floor beneath?” the man asks. “I need to know so we’ll know what floors need evacuation.”

You quickly tell him what you’ve covered, easing the man’s worries for the main floors affected now.

“I’ll evacuate the floors below,” you add as you realize the building could collapse and trap those tenants.

“Alright, some of my people are already on it. We’re also trying to wake up the people on the higher floors to start evacuating!” the man says a little louder just as another firetruck pulls up with their sirens on.

“Got it!” you state.

“Be careful!” the captain calls out before he, too, jumps into the scene.

With a nod, you turn towards the building, finding several people now looking out from their windows before disappearing into their apartments from the higher floors, including people from your own. That’s not the only thing you notice however, you also take notice of the flames and how they’re spreading.

“Everything will be okay, darling,” Peter said.

Peter’s words flash in your mind as adrenaline rushes through your body. You lunge back into action and evacuate more tenants from the lower floors. Thankfully this doesn’t take as long now that you have the help of the firefighters, which allows you to focus on the floors above. It’s there that you run into another full family - parents and children. So far you’ve only encounter roommates and spouses but very few families with children. Seeing them, you quickly decide to make a safety net out of your web. You quickly make it, extending it from one lamp post to another one, making sure it’s big enough for adults and that’s it’s secure. After reassuring the tenants that it’s safe, you help the family reach safety out of the building with the assistance of the firefighters. Your safety net turns out to be very helpful as you don’t have to carry out so many people.

You feel confident as you evacuate more people but the smoke becomes unbearable. It’s all you can smell and it makes your eyes tear up, almost making you lose your balance at one point.

“Y/N! Do you need backup?” you hear a voice.

Lyla.

You shake your head, blinking several times before you finally spot Lyla above your gizmo. “No. No need for backup. I got the situation cover.” You start moving again, your steps determine as you lead some tenants towards the end of the hallway. “Don’t tell anyone. Not Miguel. Jess. Peter B.. No one,” you tell her as you carefully lead the tenants out.

All you see is Lyla disappear before you focus on the task at hand. You get the tenants out before running back to search again. You offer help as you enter an apartment. You walk past the kitchen, already in flames. Even with the sound of sirens outside, you hear something spark, catching your attention. Your spidey senses warn you just before it blows up. You instantly cover your face and stumble backwards as flames jump at you.

🕸️🕸️🕸️

Your sweatshirt lays where it always rests - near Miguel. Your comforting scent fills Miguel’s lungs as he sleeps peacefully, no nightmares disturbing his sleep. Yet, he startles awake. His eyes search his dark bedroom immediately before he sits up slowly. He detects nothing, not even a sound from the city outside, but that doesn’t ease the strange sensation in his chest.

“Lyla,” Miguel calls out because he’s certain that something is amiss.

“Miguel,” Lyla says a second later, appearing in midair with a tone that Miguel recognizes all too well.

“What’s happening?” he asks, already out of bed with his suit halfway on.

“She said she didn’t want backup,” Lyla replies, causing Miguel to pause for only a second before he continues to slide on his gizmo.

“Who?” Miguel asks, but his heart already knows the answer. He can feel that this is why he woke up. It has to be.

“Y/N.” Lyla follows Miguel as he rushes out of his bedroom and into the hallway. He jumps from the top of the stairs to the first floor, clicking his gizmo hurriedly. “Her building caught on fire. It doesn’t seem too bad. Only a few floors so far. She has been helping the tenants out of the building while the firefighters are working to stop the fire from spreading. I asked if she wanted backup but she asked me not to,” Lyla explains. “I was going to tell you.”

“Mierda. You should’ve,” Miguel says looking at the portal that he’s opened.

“Miguel, I don’t think she wants help. She’s doing perfectly well on her own, so, just - let her do her thing and then we can check up on her,” Lyla says as she follows Miguel, who in his hurry, rips the portal open with his suit to reach your universe sooner.

“She’s not hurt, is she?” Miguel asks, stepping out onto a nearby rooftop. The sound of sirens immediately fills his ears and of course, there’s the bright light from the fire itself. Miguel’s red eyes scan it, noticing that four floors are in flames and it’s spreading to the fifth. There’s a large crowd of people on the street in their pajamas - a sight that makes Miguel feel empathy. A fire is disastrous enough but even more so when it takes place on such vulnerable moments like one’s sleep.

“She’s not hurt but she seems tired though. She’s been carrying people out and searching the building for tenants non-stop.”

“Ask her if she wants backup again but don’t tell her I’m here,” Miguel says softly yet sternly, respecting your choice of declining backup, even though everything in him is screaming to go and find you.

Lyla disappears with a nod. She appears again thirty seconds later with a frown that makes Miguel frown, too.

“She said no,” Miguel says and Lyla nods. Miguel sighs heavily. “Keep up with her. Alert me if she needs help, please.”

Miguel watches from the rooftop, even after Lyla disappears, as the firefighters run around trying to put down the fire. They scream at each other, giving directions and warnings as they move about. Scanning the scene, Miguel spots a web trap you set up on one side of the building. He finds another one near the fire stairs to help tenants land on it from the higher floors. The large group of people in their pajamas reassures Miguel that you should be done soon - that you’ll be out of danger shortly.

He’s so concerned about your well-being it only now truly hits Miguel that this isn’t a random apartment building but yours. Your apartment. The realization instantly makes him feel sorrow - your beautiful place, the one you redecorated only months ago might be lost, but more importantly, Miguel realizes all your precious belongings might be damaged if not completely burnt to ashes. He specifically thinks about your record player and vinyls, knowing how much they mean to you because of Peter. He wonders, if there’s a slight chance that you took them out already, but Miguel feels certain that you haven’t, and that you’ve focused on safely evacuating the tenants before securing your own belongings.

“Lyla.”

“She still doesn’t want backup. She’s moving through the fifth floor,” Lyla says just as Miguel sees figures from one of the floors - the fifth one - reach the fire stairs. He spots you as you reinforce the web trap before you talk to the tenants, possibly assuring them that it’s safe. The individuals jump off one by one, safely landing on your web trap before they’re assisted by nearby firefighters.

Miguel’s heart beats heavily as you disappear into the building again, immediately hidden by the smoke and flames. “Her belongings. Did she take anything out yet?” Miguel says, forcing himself to speak, trying to push down his worry.

“She hasn’t. She trusts the firefighters will stop the fire before it reaches her floor.”

“What about the tenants on the higher floors? Have then been evacuated?” Miguel asks.

“Yes. They’ve been evacuated but Y/N is making sure everyone is out of the building.”

“How is she doing? How many more people are in there?” Miguel asks as he stands on the edge of the rooftop. He hasn’t even noticed it but he has been extracting and retracting his talons the entire time, anxiously.

“I’ll check.”

Miguel nods, standing alone as he watches the firefighters put out the fire on one side of the building, trying to contain it.

You push doors and enter apartments, quickly but efficiently checking for any civilians that may be in danger. You try to keep your head low to avoid inhaling smoke, which not only makes your eyes water but also makes you want to cough as you breath some of it in. You call out, offering help. There are no voices, yet you still check to make sure no one stays behind. You walk down the hallway, almost losing your balance from a large gap on the floor destroyed from the flames beneath. You tell yourself to be more careful and to avoid the smoke, as it’s blocking your vision. After regaining your balance, you look down and see the flames consuming the floor below. You make a jump for it, securing yourself with web just in case the floor gives out once you land. Fortunately, it doesn’t.

You step into another apartment, offering help. Your eyes scan the space hurriedly as you yell out for anyone. You’re so concerned about not leaving anyone behind that you fail to notice a loose wooden board hanging behind you as your eyes search the apartment. You look around, coughing a little due to the smoke before the board falls on you - hitting you on your shoulder. You wince, taking your shoulder and putting pressure on it to ease the ache that was left from it. You search room after room before you return to the hallway, making your way into another apartment. You enter it quickly, checking a bedroom and finding no one, before you go into the living room where you surprisingly fall through the floor and onto the one below.

You grunt softly as you feel the impact of the fall. Still on the ground, you look around and realize you’re lucky that you didn’t fall straight into flames but instead into a small pocket of space that has been spared from the flames - for now.

“She just fell through the floor but seems unscathed,” Lyla reports to Miguel.

He nods, concern etched on his face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, she’s up now and searching the floor one last time.”

Miguel nods, eyes narrowing. His talons keep retracting and extracting unconsciously. It’s been a few minutes since he saw you come out through the fire stairs with a family. He silently hopes you get out of the building soon. His nerves have not settled down at all, even as he has been watching the firefighters work relentlessly to stop the spread of the fire.

“Anyone here?!” you call out as you cough out, knowing that the fifth floor has been cleared up.

“Here!”

You turn as you hear a masculine voice.

“Over- here!” the man says, his tone indicating pain.

You make your way to them as quickly as possible, crawling whenever you can to avoid the smoke. You come across a yellow suited person. A firefighter. You reach them quickly, realizing that they have debris over their legs.

“Spider-Woman,” the firefighter says as he realizes it’s you.

“I’m going to lift this off you, okay? Is that alright?” you ask them as you prepare to lift the debris off them.

“Yes - I think I have a broken leg,” the firefighter tells you.

You nod, feeling bad for the man before you gently lift the debris off them to avoid any more injuries.

“Okay, okay. I’m going to drag you to the nearest window - we need to get you out of this smoke,” you tell him.

“We both need to get out of this smoke,” he says, grimacing. “We can request a ladder from the window.”

“Alright, tell me if I’m hurting you,” you reply as you move around and position yourself. You lift him up from his underarms, your hands meeting in front of his chest to drag him, hoping you don’t meet with flames as you move. Your eyes water but you push through it as you spot a window. You move faster, avoiding injuring the firefighter.

“Ladder!” you yell out and thankfully, there’s a ladder on the floor below that quickly moves up to meet you. “Firefighter injured! Possibly a broken leg!” you inform the firefighter on the ladder.

“That’s Samuel! I was looking for him! Here!” the other firefighter responds as they set up to help you.

As a team, the non-injured firefighter and you lower Samuel down the ladder. Your sticky powers come in aid as you hold Samuel’s weight so the other firefighter doesn’t carry his weight alone. At last, the three of you reach the ground where other firefighters help with Samuel, taking him away to receive treatment.

“Is that everyone, Spider-Woman? We didn’t find any other tenants,” a woman says.

“I checked the fifth floor, there was no one else. Everyone else from the upper floors should have evacuated earlier but I’ll do one quick sweep,” you reply as your eyes scan the fire. It seems to be dying now thanks to the firefighters’ efforts but you still can’t find peace. Not until the flames are fully gone. You nod to the firefighters before you swing back to the building, hoping once again that your building, the one that you’ve lived at for years, won’t completely burn down.

You check every floor, thankful that the flames have not reached this point of the building. You can smell the smoke on yourself as you check every apartment to make sure that no one has stayed behind. As you search, you can’t help but feel sorrow. It seems that the firefighters are isolating the fire but even then, you’ve assisted in enough fires and know that the building will be inaccesible for a few weeks, if not months, depending on how fast an investigation is done to find the reasoning for the fire. It also depends on how soon the landlord starts with the cleaning and rebuilding.

You sigh deeply as you push through a door and search. You suddenly remember a conversation from weeks ago, making you pause in someone’s living room. Your memory connects the first woman you saved and her friend to New Year’s Eve. You sigh again but this time upset. You recall seeing the two women that evening when you were leaving the building at the same time to visit your loved ones at the cemetery. You move around the apartment, remembering that one of the women asked the other one if they had unplugged their Christmas lights. They didn’t. That reminds you of the fact that your landlord passed out a notice asking all tenants to avoid leaving the holiday lights plugged all day to avoid a short circuit last month. You silently wonder now if this fire was due to an overloaded socket, if this is an electric fire.

Finding no one in the apartment, you move to the next floor. You check the floor quickly and move to the next until you reach your floor. You check every apartment and then yours, even though you know there should be no one there. You move on to the next floors and thankfully, there are no tenants left inside. You notify the firefighters who tell you the fire has ceased at last. You linger around for a few minutes, hearing the worries and complaints of tenants - all worried about their housing situation. After hearing the firefighters inform tenants that no one can enter the premise until it can be ruled out that this isn’t a crime scene, you retreat silently and enter the building again undetected.

You find yourself in your apartment, standing in the middle of your living room, silently thinking about how you won’t be able to be here for some time. You allow yourself a few minutes before you begin to collect some items. The first items you collect are Peter’s record player and all the vinyls. You take them to your bed, deciding to make your bed the collecting place. You return to the living room, focusing on the photos on your wall. Once they’re collected, you move to the bookcase where you get Peter’s belongings, like his books and other small decorations. You also remember to retrieve photo albums storing photos from all the way to your childhood to the last years with Peter. Lastly, you pick up technological devices like your laptop and the tablet Miguel gifted you for Christmas from his universe from the living room.

At last, you focus on your bedroom, heading to the closet immediately. You quickly locate a plastic file organizer that contains important legal documents belonging to Peter and you. The two of you were prepared just in case something like this ever happened since neither of you wanted to lose important documents in a rush due to a fire or some other emergency.

You open the file organizer slowly, spotting a passport. You pick it up and open it. Peter’s photo greets your eyes and despite yourself, you stare at it for a few seconds. You briefly remember going together to renew it for a trip the two of you took years ago and how excited he was about it. The passport is still valid, leading you to silently wonder about the many trips the two of you would’ve gone on if everything was different. Smiling, you shake your head and place the passport back, zipping the file organizer back to avoid losing anything.

You look around your bedroom, not sure where you’ll be staying at yet. You grab your favorite tote bag, the one that Miguel gifted you this past Christmas, and place the file organizer in it. You search your bedroom and start putting other items into the bag. Your mind is concerned about the stability of the building. What if it collapses? This thought keeps running through your mind as you retrieve Peter’s box, the one that contains all of his clothes and other belongings you packed away. There’s no way you’re leaving his belongings behind and possibly losing them.

You bring the box to the bed, placing it next to the tote bag before you retrieve other items. Once you have a pile of items, you fetch a carry-on to pack everything in.

You search your apartment one more time, making sure you’re not leaving anything of sentimental value - anything that belonged to Peter or your parents. Finding nothing else, you begin to pack your belongings in the carry-on. As you pack, you finally start to think about where you’ll be staying. This situation is most likely going to last for a few weeks, if not months. You’re certain the fire started because of an electrical issue. The building is, after all, on the older side, and there was that notice from your landlord back in December. It seems to add up. However, even if the fire is deemed an electrical fire and there’s no need for a longer investigation, the cleaning and rebuilding of the building might take months unless your landlord miraculously pulls it together somehow. You can only hope but for now you have to figure out where you’ll be staying.

“Hotel,” you say to yourself as you remember the plan Peter and you came up with. The plan used to be your parents and Aunt May’s place but with them gone, it changed to a hotel. You sigh softly as you carefully pack your belongings, trying to avoid any damage to the sensitive items like the records. Your spidey senses suddenly go off again, causing you to turn.

“Please tell me you’re not actually considering staying at a hotel,” Miguel says softly as he comes in from the living room, hoping not to startle you. “You’re more than welcome to stay at my place.”

“Miguel,” you say gently as he approaches you, stopping near you but keeping enough distance to give you space.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his tone filled with concern. His eyes search your body, even in the barely lit room, trying to find any sign of injury. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m okay. At least, I think so,” you answer. “Nothing hurts.”

“Good. I’m relieved to hear that. I wanted - to help you, but Lyla said you didn’t want backup.”

“Lyla…” you say, narrowing your eyes as you remember declining backup and asking her not to tell Miguel or anyone else. “She told you.”

“No. She didn’t. I actually…” Miguel looks away for a few seconds. “I think I sensed it somehow. I woke up on my own and had this… feeling. When I asked her what was happening, that’s when she told me. I traveled here immediately but watched from afar, just in case you wanted backup,” Miguel says quietly, not quite sure what to make of this fact in the moment. All he cares about is that you’re unhurt, or at least it seems that way. He’ll be making sure of it once you both reach Nueva York, or somewhere far safer with better lighting.

You smile softly at the fact that Miguel somehow sensed your situation despite the fact that he doesn’t have a spidey sense. You stare at each other in the darkness of the room, thinking about that special connection between the two of you. Neither of you understand it, nor have addressed it since the day you told Miguel how you knew he was in trouble back in the spring when he came face to face with a variant of the Green Goblin and he was stranded on Earth-42, and he was injured. Despite not talking about it, the two of you have thought about it. Sometimes you wonder how is it possible but regardless, you feel comforted by it. As to Miguel, he used to find it both comforting and fearful, though these days when he thinks about it, he finds himself no longer feeling afraid of that bond and what it means. He’s embraced this connection - this bond - as the months have passed.

“I see. Well, thank you for coming and for respecting my decision about backup,” you tell him softly.

Miguel nods, looking at you. “Always,” he replies, knowing deep inside of him that he’ll always show up for you and respect your decisions. “You were - amazing,” he adds quietly.

You smile warmly, feeling a bit of heat in your cheeks thanks to Miguel’s compliment, but also because it reminds you of the times Peter used to tell you the same thing when he saw footage of you on the news. You blink softly, pushing the memories away for now.

“I was - okay, but thank you. I’m just glad no one was seriously hurt,” you reply, turning away and continuing to pack.

Miguel frowns. Did he say something wrong?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says, softly.

You pause and turn to face him. “What - no. You didn’t. I’m sorry,” you whisper even though there’s no need to. There’s no else in the apartment, or even in the building. “Your words didn’t upset me. Seriously, thank you. It means a lot coming from another Spider person - coming from you,” you say with a warm smile, pausing to make sure that Miguel understands his words didn’t upset you. “Believe me. It’s just - I have Peter on my mind. I mean, he’s always there, you know? But tonight, with this fire - and collecting his items - he’s even more present in my mind right now, and your words… He used to tell me things like that when he saw me in action. I’m just feeling a little… sentimental.”

Miguel nods, understanding, yet also feeling relieved that he didn’t upset you with his words. “I see. I’m sorry that Peter…” he starts but is unable to finish as his mind runs with thoughts. If Peter was alive, Miguel is sure the two of you would’ve been packing together right now. Knowing how organized you are, Miguel imagines that the two of you had some plan in action for these kinds of emergencies. Instead, you’re here on your own packing Peter’s belongings because he’s no longer here. “I wish things were different,” he says at last, wanting to say more but not sure he should due to the sensitive circumstances.

You nod softly. “Thank you. It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay,” you reply, the last statement feeling sweet in your mouth as you recall Peter telling you that in your dream.

Miguel nods and watches as you pack, feeling admiration that even in this moment you seem so put together. “Always,” he answers quietly before he looks at your belongings. “Is this everything you’re taking? I can help take some of these items out to another rooftop, somewhere far from the building to avoid civilians’ eyes. We can open a portal from there.”

You look at him, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“You’re not actually going to a hotel, are you? There’s Gabriel’s room, empty. You can stay there for as long as necessary. Until the building is deemed safe for living.”

“Miguel, that might mean that-” you start but Miguel shakes his head, and lifts his hand up, asking you to stop because he knows where you’re going with this.

“It might mean that you stay there for weeks, or even months. I know the process can be tedious and long in these situations. That’s why you can’t stay at a hotel. Not when you have options. Please, you’ll be far more comfortable there.”

You pause your packing and stare at the items on your bed, contemplating. Accepting Miguel’s offer would mean staying with him for at least a few weeks. That would entail taking some of his privacy away. You briefly think about the fact that neither of you have lived with someone in a while, especially you. There’s also the fact that you wouldn’t be sleeping here, in your universe, for so long - a thought that makes you a little sad.

“It’s not a problem for me,” Miguel starts, noticing your silence but sensing your internal debate. “You will not be invading my privacy. You’ll have your own space and I won’t bother you. Just - think about it. At least for tonight, stay there.”

You turn to him with a raised eyebrow. “Did you just say you won’t bother me? That’s not even something I’m worried about.” You shake your head softly, and despite everything, laugh a little, a sound that makes Miguel grin in the dim lit bedroom. “I’m concerned about the fact that I’d be sleeping in another universe for more than a few days. About invading your space. I don’t want to intrude and be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden. You could never be…” Miguel says gently, silently wondering why you’d think that. “We are… You know what we are.”

You nod slowly. “Yes… I know,” you whisper. You sigh after a few seconds and nod again. “Okay, just for a little bit - a few days.”

“Or, a few weeks. Months, if necessary. Unless you’re not comfortable at my home,” Miguel says quietly with a bit of a frown.

“It’s not that. I just - you’re used to your space, and I’m used to mine,” you answer quietly. “Neither of us has - you know - it’s been a while since either of us has shared our space with another person.”

Miguel nods, understanding what you mean, yet, he thinks back to the last spring when he was injured.“I know, but I think it’ll be okay. We’ve - kind of done it before.”

You stare at Miguel in surprise, realizing that he’s right. You’ve stayed at his home before and those days felt - normal, almost right. You both fell into a routine very quickly. Yet, you can’t help but think that after a few days of staying there, your presence might disturb Miguel’s routine.

“Don’t overthink it. If you’re not comfortable for whatever reason, then we can figure something out but please,” Miguel says.

You finally nod, because the man before you has been offering way too many times now for you to keep refusing, and besides, you’d feel better there than at a hotel room on your own.

“Okay, but if you need me to leave, please let me know, okay?” you ask.

Miguel nods, though he’s biting back from telling you that he would never do such a thing to someone who has found themselves in this situation, even less to you. However, Miguel refrains from voicing this thought because he doesn’t want to add stress to your already stressful morning.

“Alright... Is this everything you’re packing? For now, at least? We can come back later and retrieve more items.” Miguel looks around for a few seconds. “Honestly - we could take all your furniture and store it on one of the lower floors, just in case. That way nothing happens to your belongings.”

You shake your head gently at him, yet feel appreciation for the offer. “That’s not necessary. I don’t mind if something happens to this furniture. I hope not because that would mean the other tenants would lose their belongings, but I’m not as attached as I was to the old furniture, so I don’t mind. I have everything I want to save right, just in case. So, it’s alright, really,” you reply softly with a small smile.

“If you’re sure - if not, my offer stands. I’m sure if we get the whole group, we could get everything out in no time. I mean it,” Miguel says. “It would be no problem. Just think about it, okay?” he says gently, wanting to be as helpful as possible without pushing too much, though all he wishes to do is help you and be there for you for who he is - your friend. “Alright, I’ll help you with this bag and box. You can hold on to the record player, “ Miguel offers, knowing how much Peter’s record player means to you.

You nod and finish packing. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. After dropping everything off I’m coming back to see if anyone needs help. I hope you don’t mind me returning a bit later.”

“Of course not. I know there may be emergencies during the night, so you’ll need to go in and out. I understand. Don’t worry about it, okay?” Miguel replies and you nod, grateful. “Have you packed clothes, at least a few changes?”

You stop, realizing. You hadn’t even thought of that since you were more concerned with keeping Peter’s belongings and other sentimental items safe first. “I haven’t, let me do that really quickly.”

You find another travel bag, the one that you used back when you stayed at Miguel’s place when you were looking after him, and begin packing. In a matter of minutes you put it together, packing clothes for at least a week before you pack your personal hygiene products. At last, you have everything you think you’ll need. Miguel picks up Peter’s box and two travel bags as the two of you get ready to leave.

You thank him again as you pick up the other items and head to the window both of you entered the apartment through. Before slipping out, the two of you pause at the window, taking in one last glance - silently thinking that you’d like to see it one last time, just in case. The two of you exit the apartment before you close the window with a heavy pang in your chest. You hope that you’ll only be away for a few weeks, and not months from your little apartment but only time will tell. You follow Miguel, holding on to your belongings. You check very quickly to see what’s going on outside your building, wondering how many of your neighbors are still there. You notice that the crowd has become smaller, and some people are taking cabs.

About a minute later, you both land on a rooftop. Miguel opens a portal and gestures for you to go first. You do so, but not without another glance. You’ll be back in a few minutes to check on the situation but for now, you head to Nueva York - the only other dimension in the entire multiverse that feels somewhat like home.

You step out into Miguel’s living room, carrying your record player like it’s gold. You move out of the way for Miguel to step out before he gestures for you to follow him, leading the way.

“Come on,” Miguel says softly. “Let’s get you settled in.”

You follow him up the stairs and into the hallway, carrying your items. Miguel pushes the door open to Gabriel’s old room, and you’re back once again to this bedroom. You can’t help but feel nostalgia as you enter the room. It’s been many, many months since you stayed the night ever since Miguel was injured. You quickly get reacquainted with the bedroom, finding comfort in it. There’s the bookshelf with some books about science and repairing and as always, everything is clean and organized.

“I washed the bedding earlier this week but we can wash it again tomorrow if you want,” Miguel says as he places the box carefully on the floor, not sure what’s exactly in it. “Or, if you prefer, we can bring your bedding and take this one off so you’re more comfortable with your own later. I don’t mind it at all. Whatever feels more comfortable to you,” Miguel says taking the bag you’re holding from you and placing it on a desk. “Just - I want you to feel comfortable and - at home,” Miguel says softly, quietly. “So, feel free to use the room however you need. If you want to decorate it while you’re here… You can.” Miguel stares at the bed for a few seconds, silently wondering if he’s being too much by telling you to decorate the bedroom if you wish to. He’s not even sure if you want to stay for more than a few days after how long it took him to convince you because for some reason you think you’re going to be a burden.

You smile warmly at Miguel as he turns his gaze from the bed to you. “Thank you. I really appreciate it, truly. I was - I want to apologize for earlier,” you start. You meet his gaze, hoping he can see the sincerity in your words. “I’m not uncomfortable being here. At all. I just don’t want to disturb your peace. Your space. I hope I didn’t come off as rude when I kept declining your offer. I really do appreciate you letting me stay here. It means so much to me. Thank you, Miguel.”

After a nod, Miguel offers you a small smile. “Always,” he answers, still meeting your gaze and holding it. Your words linger in his head, the sincerity in them reaching his heart. He knows you were not trying to be rude, but that you really believe, for some unknown and odd reason to him, that you’ll be disturbing him somehow. He’s especially caught up in the words you said just now - how you don’t want to disturb his peace and space - and thinks to himself about how this penthouse only truly feels peaceful and homey when you’re here.

That’s not to say that there isn’t peace in this space. There is, only it’s a different kind, an unpleasant one. It’s from the lack of other people in the living space. It’s a kind of peace that Miguel can only describe as lonely. It’s one he’s known for many years.

He thought he was used to this peace prior to his short life in Gabriella’s universe, but Miguel has learned, twice now, that he might never truly feel used to it. He’s still not used to it, even though he finds himself in it often on evenings when he’s back here from HQ. It’s not until recently that he has found a way to make that lonely peace fade a little, and that’s through the record player you gifted him for Christmas. It’s through the music from your universe and the scratching of the vinyl that Miguel manages to push away that unpleasant peace that gnaws at him.

On those evenings, the penthouse feels more welcoming to him, and not so cold and foreign. He never thought something so simple would help, but then again, Miguel never thought a piece of fabric with your scent on it and the sound of your breathing would help him get proper sleep either. Miguel has learned to accept it, to embrace it really, so he plays the record player and listens to the music from your universe, sometimes feeling like he’s not even home but at your apartment - at your universe - as he works. It’s how he tranquilizes that lonely peace in those hours, how he suppresses that gnawing feeling.

While the record player provides a temporary relief, Miguel has noted that the only time that feeling is truly gone is when you're there, at his penthouse.

You fill the penthouse with a warm and comfort that Miguel only used to feel when Gabriel lived with him and when Miguel lived in Gabriella’s universe. You bring a warm peace that he only felt with Gabriel and Gabriella, and now with you.

Miguel clears his throat, reminding himself that the two of you are still standing here in your apartment, and that you're still smiling warmly at him. He feels tempted to tell you all his thoughts from just now, but it’s still too soon, and his thoughts are so vulnerable.

“You won’t be disturbing me. I promise,” Miguel says softly, opting for that simple and straightforward answer as he looks away, trying to think of what else he can do to make you feel welcomed before he continues speaking. “Is there anything I can get you? Are you hungry or - actually, are you sure you’re not hurt? Lyla told me you fell through one of the floors. Does anything hurt?” he asks, frowning deeply as his eyes turn back to you, searching your face and suit for any indication of cuts, bruises, or blood.

You smile fondly at him as you recognize the concern on his face. “I feel alright. I didn’t get hurt when I fell. I just feel a little sore now,” you reply as you place your mask on the desk. You can still smell the smoke on yourself, which makes you wish for a shower now, but you have yet to return to your universe and make sure your help is no longer needed.

“I’ll get you some painkillers and water,” Miguel says as he watches you place your mask on the desk for now.

“I appreciate that. Thank you.” you say softly as you rub one of your eyes. You can feel the exhaustion begin to kick in so you grab your mask again. “I need to get going. I can feel my body begin to relax.”

“Have some water first,” Miguel says. “C’mon. It will freshen you up and then you can go back.”

You follow Miguel back downstairs to the kitchen where he fills a glass with water and offers some painkillers. He watches as you take them, relieve that he can look after you in a small way at least.

You finish the water and give him a grateful smile. “Thank you. I didn’t know I needed that until now.” You stretch slightly after you place the glass on the counter. “Alright, let me go back. I’ll be back in a few. Thank you for - everything,” you say softly as you hold on to your mask.

Miguel nods with a soft smile. “Always... Be careful. if you need anything - let me know, please.”

You nod gently. “Will do. I’ll see you in a bit.” With that, you head back to your universe, leaving Miguel in the kitchen.

Upon arriving to your universe, you head to your building. The smoke has died down by the time you reach it. The police cars and firetrucks are still there, securing the area. Some tenants linger, figuring out what to do now in the middle of the night. You assist them as best as possible and offer additional help to the firefighters, learning through the captain that the firefighter that you helped earlier sends his gratitude and will recover successfully from his injuries.

It’s not until an hour later that you return to Miguel’s universe. You step out into the living room, finding Miguel standing near the windows. He's staring out at the city in silence, still wearing his suit, as if he’s been ready just in case you needed his assistance.

Upon hearing your arrival, Miguel turns around and faces you. His eyes search your body once again, scanning for any injuries but he finds none.

You greet him with a small smile, definitively feeling tired now. You stare back at him as he looks at you, not surprised he’s still awake despite the time it is. “Sorry it took me a while, I got caught up.”

Miguel shakes his head. “It’s alright. Don’t worry about it. You must be tired,” he says, his eyes searching your face.

“Yes, a little bit. It’s… wow. It’s now past six,” you say, realizing. You also realize you need to shower since you still smell like smoke. “I really need a shower.”

“Go ahead. I’ll be down here. There’s clean towels in the bathroom, but if you need anything, please let me know,” Miguel says quietly.

“Thank you! Are you - Are you not tired?” you ask, wondering if Miguel will get back to bed, at least to catch half an hour of sleep before he heads to HQ.

Miguel smiles softly and shakes his head. “No. I’m not tired, but you must be. Shower, and I’ll have something for you to eat. Then you can sleep.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. Breakfast, I mean. I’ll…” you trail off, realizing your routine is going to be different for a little while. You look at Miguel and smile sheepishly, which makes him grin in amusement.

“Your routine is going to feel off for a few days but - I believe you’ll fall back into it again, which reminds me…” Miguel starts, meeting your gaze. His grin dissipates, amusement placed to the side for the time being because what he wants to tell you is serious. “I told you earlier that I want you to feel at home. I mean it. I know it’s going to be a little different. You’re not only going to be in a different environment from your own but in an entirely different universe. If you decide to stay here, of course,” Miguel says, still unsure of your thoughts on this.

You were reluctant earlier, and for all he knows, you’re only interested in staying here for a few days, even if he hopes for the opposite. “I’ve offered for you to stay here for as long as you need. It can be a few days, a few weeks, a few months…” Miguel says trailing off, almost saying you could stay here for years if you wanted to, but he stops just in time before he actually says it because you might find it strange that he’d be okay with this.

In fact, Miguel realizes right now that he’d be perfectly happy with it, which makes his cheeks feel hot. He clears his throat gently. “What I’m trying to say is that - My home is your home,” Miguel continues, his eyes still meeting yours. His gaze has been unwavering the entire time, hoping that he drives home his offer and that you understand that you're not a burden. “Whatever you decide to do, I’ll be there for you and respect it, just know you’re welcomed here. Please don’t feel like you’ll be a burden as you said earlier. You’re not,” he says much more softly. “I don't know how long you'd like to stay here. You don’t have to decide that now in this instant, but I do want you to know that whether you stay a day or months, you can use the penthouse however you want to. If you want to read in the living room like you always do back in your universe, or if you want to randomly bake cookies at 10am or 9pm, you can. If you want to use one of the offices, you’re more than welcomed to. Same as the laundry room -” Miguel pauses, thinking that maybe he’s overdoing it. He scratches his neck softly, his eyes moving away for a few seconds before they return to you. “I just want you to know that you don’t need to be limiting yourself or, feel like you need permission, or something like that. In any way. My home is your home.”

You nod gently, feeling appreciation and gratitude towards Miguel. There’s also tenderness swirling in your mixture of feelings. Here he is telling you his home is your home.

“And also - I know,” Miguel says with a small shrug and an apologetic smile, but he has been thinking about all of these things while you've been away. And, Miguel knows you very well. “You don’t have to worry about groceries or anything like that. Unless it’s something that can only be acquired from your universe, then yes, but otherwise, don’t worry about it, okay?” Miguel says, staring intently at you with his hands on his hips now.

“About bills-” you start.

“Nor about paying bills. Or rent,” Miguel says lifting his hand, and pointing at nothing in particular, a signal that he had that on his mind as well. Miguel mentally runs through his list of points. While he waited for updates from Lyla about you, he thought of these details. He thought about how your daily routine will feel off for a few days and how you’ll probably want to pay for staying here. Miguel stares at you, noticing you want to debate this. “Please. I know that if it was me, you’d do the same,” Miguel adds softly, hoping to make you see his side. His words, Miguel notices, seem to hit home because he sees the shift in your eyes.

You nod once more and sigh softly. You shake your head at him, a small smile forming on your face. The exhaustion is hitting but you still find it in yourself to smile to him. “You know me - too well,” you say quietly because his words have struck home. Miguel is absolutely right. If it was him in your situation, you’d be telling him the exact same things down from asking him not to worry about bills nor groceries, and about making himself at home at your apartment. You’d be trying to be as helpful as possible, to comfort him as much as you can. A part of you still wants to discuss some of these points, but you decide to leave it for later.

Miguel’s eyes lit up as he sees your small, tired but nonetheless sweet smile. He feels like he has finally made his point after all his talking with just a few words. Miguel returns the smile. “I’ll be making breakfast while you shower. If you need anything - at all - just tell Lyla and she’ll let me know. Don’t worry about anything else for now,” Miguel says and nods to the stairs, as if silently asking you to go on.

You nod and give Miguel a playful grin that fills his chest with warmth.

“Alright, I’m going to go shower. I’m probably stinking up your penthouse like smoke,” you say, nodding to the stairs. “Before I go though - I just want to thank you for everything, Miguel. I truly appreciate it,” you utter softly, your tone filled with sincerity and gratitude.

Miguel nods gently, his lips curling into a soft smile. “Always.”

You smile back at him and nod.

“Go on. I’ll be down here. Let me know if you need something, alright?”

“I will, thank you,” you reply softly, still smiling at him. You give him a nod, and with that you, you head upstairs.

You enter Gabriel’s bedroom, finding your belongings more organized than you left them. You also notice that Miguel has added another blanket, a fuzzy one.

You gather everything you need for your shower, including a change of clothes. Before you exit the bedroom, you pause at the door and look out the window. The sun is already making its way up in Nueva York. You grin softly before you head to the bathroom to shower at last. You shower quickly and do everything you need to after your shower, dressing into comfortable clothes. You hope not to sleep all day but you recognize your body is tired and needs to rest for a bit. Besides, you have a feeling that Miguel might get on to you if you don’t, which you find endearing.

You head back downstairs once you’re done, feeling clean and fresh. You mentally tell yourself to wash your suit once you wake up. It’s one of the many things you’ll need to do. You start thinking about setting up your room for the time being and about the little things you’ll have to do back home, like taking out the food from the fridge that will go bad if it hasn’t already, since you’re certain the fire was an electrical one considering there was no power when you were evacuating civilians out of the building. There’s also your laundry, and other small things of the sort to think about. You silently think about creating a list as you finally reach the kitchen.

Miguel turns at the sound of your footsteps. He notices the look on your face, the one you get when you’re lost in thought, and he’s sure you’re already thinking about the many things you wish to do.

“We’ll get things sorted out,” Miguel says softly as you take a seat at the counter at last. He notices the little sigh that escapes past your lips and the way you slightly lean on the counter to get some relief. He thinks about how you’ve been on your feet since you woke up; swinging, crawling, and carrying people nonstop. The closest you got to a break was when you took the painkillers and drank water.

Miguel is sure that now that you’ve showered and you’ve sat down, that all your aches and exhaustion will truly begin to surface. “Eat some breakfast. Rest. And then, we can do everything that needs to be done, alright?” he adds, as he places two glasses in front of you. One with orange juice and the other with water, opting not to offer you coffee right now so you'll rest properly.

You nod and give him a tired smile. “Alright. Thank you, truly,” you say quietly as you grab the glass with water since your mouth feel a little dry. You chug it down gently, finding relief, before you set it back down.

Miguel takes the glass and refills it for you before placing it back and checking on the stove. He stirs the food he's cooking, making it the only noise that fills the space. You don’t know what Miguel is cooking, but whatever it is, it smells fantastic and makes your mouth water. You drink more water as Miguel cooks, his back to you. You close your eyes for a bit, feeling the need to close them.

“Hey, how are you doing?”

You open your eyes and find Lyla. She floats near your face with a concerned look on her face, so you offer her a smile. “I’m alright, thank you. What about you?”

“I’m well, thanks. Glad to hear you’re okay,” Lyla replies with a little grin, though her eyes still show concern. “You did well.”

“Thank you. Also… thank you for respecting my wish and not telling Miguel,” you quietly tell Lyla though you’re sure Miguel is not even listening as he opens cabinets to get some items out.

“You got it, boss. I would’ve told him if I saw that you were in danger but,” Lyla pauses with a proud smile. “You were killing it. Miguel and I were just watching you in awe.”

“Breakfast is about to be ready,” Miguel says from the stove.

Lyla and you both turn to Miguel and share a little grin.

“Well, you did amazing but you really need to rest now. I agree with Miguel on this one,” Lyla says. “So rest up. Please.”

You nod with a little smile.

“Hm, didn’t know she had that term in her vocabulary,” Miguel comments as he places a plate with food in front of you.

“I do, I just don’t use it for you. Only with special members,” Lyla says with a shrug, which reminds Miguel of something Lyla said a while back. She mentioned you are one of her top five favorite members. Miguel silently wonders once again what your spot is, and who are the other four members. He has a feeling Spider-Plushie, Spider-Cat, Spider-Wolf, or Spider-Rex are up there with you.

He clears his mind and gives you utensils along with napkins, making sure you have everything so you can eat properly. Lyla has already disappeared.

“Thank you. My mouth is watering,” you tell Miguel as you look at the food.

“Go ahead and start eating. Your body needs it to recover,” Miguel says gently, gesturing for you to eat.

You take a bite and involuntarily close your eyes at the flavor. You would happily pass away right now with this amazing food.

Miguel watches your reaction, smirking softly at the sight and feeling pleased. He thought by now he would be used to it but each time, without failure, the sight of you smiling and enjoying the food makes him joyous. It’s so satisfying for some reason.

“Are you not eating?” you ask, looking at him now with wonder in your eyes.

The question brings him back to the moment and he nods. “Yes. Yes, I am,” he replies, offering you a little smile before he turns around to fix himself a plate. For a moment he forgot about himself, being more concerned with you eating first. He serves himself breakfast before joining you at the counter, taking the seat he always does. He silently thinks about how you both always sit on the same chairs, as if you were assigned to them. He smiles at this thought before he turns to look at you, finding you enjoying your food.

His face softens at the sight, and he’s suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling he’s had ever since you first stepped foot into his home this morning, and one that has stayed with him. He feels the need to stay here with you, to work from home so he can keep an eye out for you while you rest. He doesn’t want to tell you this though. Miguel knows you well and is certain that you’d try to work, or even go to HQ to avoid “disrupting” his routine if he tells you about his plan. He takes his utensil, getting ready to eat as he thinks about it. He’ll go to HQ and stick around for an hour before he comes back for the rest of the day, but that’s a secret, for now.

He takes a bite of food, appreciating the flavor as he silently plans. He’ll be back in an hour and easily ask Jess or Peter if they can fill in for today’s planned missions. If there’s any missions regarding anomalies, he’s sure other members can handle such missions. Miguel pauses as he thinks of other members, thinking of your friends.

“The others might wonder where you are. Do you want me to tell them what happened, and that you’re here?” Miguel asks gently. “Or, do you prefer to let them know yourself?”

You put down your glass and think. You haven’t even thought about them, feeling too exhausted. “Do you mind telling them?”

“I don’t. I can tell them once I get to HQ. I can tell them that they can come see you once you’re up for it, if you’d like,” Miguel says after he cleans his mouth. “Which is another thing I forgot to mention earlier. I know they visit you often back at your universe, so they can come here if you’d like.”

You shake your head slightly. “Thank you but that’s alright. You’re been far too generous already.”

Miguel frowns softly. “I mean it. I wouldn’t mind it, but if you prefer not to, that’s your choice. Just know that I’m fine with it. As I said earlier - my home is your home,” Miguel says picking up his own glass and taking a drink.

You smile at the offer but you don’t want to take advantage of Miguel’s kindness. Besides, you know you can always visit your friends, or arrange to meet up at HQ. You find it sweet though, the fact that Miguel has offered his home to you, and that he has said his home is your home. Not once but three times now.

The two of you eat in silence, enjoying both the food and each other’s company. Miguel keeps the conversation short, as he knows you must be exhausted. When the two of you are done and Miguel notices you standing up and retrieving your dishes, Miguel moves quickly. He takes the dishes from you gently, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it. I got it. Go ahead and rest. Really,” he says as you start to protest. He sees your little frown, and Miguel wonders if this is what you feel like when you want to help him and he protests because he believes that you’ve done too much for him already. He wonders if you feel frustration when he declines politely the way you are now when all he wishes to do is look after you. He sighs softly and places your dishes on top of his before he turns to you. “I’ll be at HQ but if you need anything - at all - please let me know. And again, please make yourself at home. Also, don’t worry about anything else for right now. We’ll sort it out but you need to rest for now, okay?” he says softly, eyes meeting yours.

You nod, noticing the look on Miguel’s face. Concern is written all over it. For a few seconds you wish you weren’t making him this concerned before your mind moves on to the fact that he said “we” when referring to tasks you’ll need to get done, as in the two of you will figure things out together. It’s the second time he’s said it and his words comfort you, deeply. You blindly thought your building would never go through a situation like this one and even less that you’d go through it without Peter. Sure, you were both prepared because that was the responsible thing to do, but you never thought you’d actually have to retrieve the file organizer for such a circumstance - that you’d be packing without Peter. You’re overwhelmed suddenly with the thought that you would’ve been alone for all of this if it wasn’t for Miguel. If you weren’t in the Spider Society, this morning would’ve been very different. You swallow the knot that’s forming in your throat and nod again, feeling emotional and so exhausted. “Okay, I will. I guess - I’ll be here,” you reply quietly, feeling like all your exhaustion is hitting you at once now that you’ve showered, eaten, and have relaxed. The adrenaline has finally worn off, and now you’re all emotion and exhaustion.

“Good,” Miguel replies gently, offering you a small smile. “I’ll let the others know you’re here, so they’re not too worried about you.”

You nod, biting your lower lip subtly and looking away for a few seconds. “Alright, be careful, please.”

Miguel blinks softly at the words, caught by surprise. He nods regardless and offers you a small but reassuring smile. “I will.”

With that, you nod and turn around. You walk towards the living room to head upstairs but pause at the doorway - having the need to say more.

Miguel stands up once he sees you pause. He wonders if something’s wrong. Perhaps you didn’t notice you had injuries earlier but now you’re feeling them, or maybe you’re so tired you’re disoriented. He takes three steps forward before you turn around and meet his gaze.

“Miguel?”

“Yes?” he responds softly, worry etched on his face.

“I think - I’m really tired. My exhaustion is hitting at last and that’s probably why I really want to tell you something I usually wouldn’t.”

Miguel’s eyebrows rises slowly, wondering.

“I truly appreciate everything you’ve done. I don’t think I will ever be able to thank you enough even if I said it a million times but it means so much to me,” you start. “You showing up and respecting my decision for no backup, but sticking around just in case. Helping me with my belongings and of course, offering me to stay here and trying to make me feel at home,” you add with a wavering voice. “It means so much to me and I wish -” you swallow gently, definitely feeling exhaustion take its toll on you, making it harder for you to hold back from expressing sentiments you’d usually hold close to your heart with Miguel. The words roll out of your mouth quickly and your voice quivers as if you were making a dire confession. “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.” You pause for a second before finishing. “And I should go to sleep before I keep saying things. I hope that didn’t make you uncomfortable, and if it did, I’m really sorry.”

You nod quickly before walking away, not wanting to make Miguel feel more uncomfortable than he probably already is by lingering around. You leave Miguel behind, who watches you leave with a soft expression on his face. His cheeks are flushed and his hands form into soft fists as he stands alone now.

He continues to stare through the doorway, only seeing part of his living room now, and wonders… What would it be like? What would it be like to let you do exactly what you wish to do? What would it feel like to be hugged again? To feel warm arms wrapped around him? And what if he hugged you back?

Miguel sighs deeply as he leans on the counter before he gently hits the countertop with his fist.

What if?

Miguel’s mind is clouded with your words, with the possibility. He has been thinking about it for weeks now - two months, really. He has been thinking about it ever since Thanksgiving when the two of you, at his request, invited your friends over because there was so much food even after you both ate. He was caught up with the younger members, the spiderlings as you call them, a nickname that Miguel finds endearing and that he has found himself using mentally - even catching himself almost saying it verbally at times. The spiderlings were asking him questions about his sound system and he ended up showing them other devices from his universe. He remembers looking over from the living room to the kitchen and dining area and finding you leaning your head on Peter B.’s arm, so at ease.

For some reason, ever since that night, Miguel has been thinking about it more. About how much more open you are to physical touch. He notices it more these days. From the little gestures like high-fives to the big gestures, like on New Year’s Eve just a few weeks ago when Noir and Spider-Ham were talking to him and he realized you were suddenly gone from his side. He ended up finding you talking with Peter B.. Miguel relaxes his fists as he remembers, vividly, Peter’s arm around your shoulder and once again, how comfortable you were. The sight only added more fuel to his thoughts about physical touch.

Miguel looks at his pinky. There has been some physical touch. Some of it has been unintentional, of course. Miguel is not opposed to physical touch when it’s necessary, like on missions. He picks up civilians, carries them. When spider-people are in danger and need a hand, he lends one but on his day to day life, his personal life - Miguel has been limited. All contact in these situations involve having his suit on, so no skin to skin contact is made. Ever since losing Gabriella, the only person he has touched - with his bare hands and nothing in between - has been you with the pinky squeezes. He also remembers holding Mayday the day you were babysitting her but that’s it.

It’s just you and the pinky squeezes. The first time he did it, he didn’t even plan on it. It happened. All he knows is that his pinky was suddenly wrapped around yours, and he gave a little squeeze. Now there’s been a few other times, the last one being on New Year’s Eve. Everyone was hugging and welcoming the new year, and Miguel thought - after seeing all your friends hug you - that he’d try and give you a “hug” in his own way. It was also his way to comfort you a little bit after you cried, which made his heart ache even if you were crying “happy” tears as you said to him that night.

Besides the pinky squeezes, that’s all there has been, except for the first time he touched you. Miguel sighs as he realizes it will soon be two years since that day, making him wonder where the time has gone. He remembers it vividly, however, how he pressed his hand to your forehead almost two years ago to see if you had a running fever. He didn’t even think about it in the moment. Before he knew it, his bare hand was pressed to your skin and it was the first time since Gabriella that Miguel had touched anyone skin to skin.

Your words have Miguel standing here now, in his kitchen, contemplating. That’s not all though. He feels his heart speed up at the fact that you said you wished you could hug him, that you were telling him something you normally wouldn’t tell him and it was this. It means you’ve wished to hug him before. Miguel silently wonders how many times have you wished for this? He’s seen the way your hands sometimes reach for him but stop halfway, remembering his boundaries but how many times have you wanted more than pat his hand or arm? How many times have you wished to embrace him?

Miguel wonders again - what would it feel like to have the privilege of being hugged by you? What if he hugged you back, and embraced your warmth?

“Dios,” Miguel whispers as he stares down at his hands. He can feel a tingling, almost as if his own hands are asking - begging - him to go and feel.

He pushes himself off the counter and walks off, heading upstairs. His steps are quick but quiet to avoid disturbing you, and in truth, Miguel doesn’t know what he’s doing, not even when he reaches Gabriel’s bedroom door and he finds it ajar. He stands still and listens, his ears filled instantly with your soft breathing.

Miguel pushes the door open softly and sure enough there you are. You lay on the bed, under warm covers. The blanket reaches your collarbone area, keeping you warm. He steps in quietly, noticing the sunlight filtering through the windows and just before he calls for her, Lyla appears and gestures to the windows. Miguel nods gently as he watches his AI assistant give the command for the holographic blinds to lower. He watches for a few seconds as they’re lowered before he lifts his hand, giving a silent command to stop when they’re two thirds of the way closed as he doesn’t want you to wake up in full darkness.

He nods at Lyla who gives him a thumbs up and disappears, sensing that she needs to head out. Miguel watches you sleep. Your face is relaxed and there’s a soft look on your face. You’re, as always, hugging a pillow. Your breathing is soft and even - a sound that Miguel is far too well acquainted with, for this sound is his lullaby.

His hands still itch and he wonders, if you were awake, would he have done it? Would he have walked up to you and hugged you? Or would he have told you that you could hug him, and then he’d embrace you? Miguel shakes his head. There’s no use in thinking about it now. You’re asleep. Still… Miguel steps closer and extends his arm towards you. His index finger is inches away from your cheek.

Miguel retrieves his arm and drops it, telling himself you’re asleep and that it would be inappropriate to touch you, even if it’s only your face. He sighs quietly, looking around the room and making sure everything is alright. He wants to ensure that you’re safe and sound, one last time. Earlier when he came to place the blanket and organized your belongings a little better, he made sure that all the furniture was in good standing. He even made sure the floating shelves were secured to avoid any sort of injury, or to avoid your belongings falling.

Satisfied, Miguel glances back at you one more time. You’re fast asleep, resting after the exhausting early morning you had. He walks out of the bedroom, leaving the door the way you left it and returns back downstairs to make sure everything is turned off at the kitchen.

At last, Miguel heads to HQ, feeling like he’s missing something.

🕸️🕸️🕸️

Miguel closes a tab just as he hears people talking. He’d usually narrow his eyes in annoyance that people walked in unannounced - even if this is the norm from almost everyone - but today he requested this group specifically. He turns around as he hears the voices grow louder, and already, he can hear your name being mentioned.

“I sent her a message earlier to ask if she wanted a bagel. She seems to be offline,” he hears Gwen say.

“Offline? She’s never offline,” Miles replies, his tone uncertain about the situation.

“Maybe she needed a little break but… I think she would’ve told us she was doing that,” Peter B. adds with furrowed eyebrows. His gears already turning as he holds Mayday.

“That’s because I disabled her gizmo’s notifications,” Miguel says, immediately catching everyone’s attention.

“Is Y/N okay?” Pav asks, looking at Miguel with concern.

Miguel nods, his face softening at the sight of your concerned friends, especially from the younger members, the spiderlings. “She’s okay. She’s safe. Just - exhausted,” Miguel says to reassure your friends about your safety before he tells them about the fire. Your friends listen intently, concern clear on their faces as Miguel explains the situation, emphasizing that you’re safe and uninjured. “She’s here.”

“Here at HQ?” Noir asks.

Miguel shakes his head. “No. Not here at HQ. She’s here in Nueva York, but she’s staying at my place. I don’t know… For how long,” Miguel says pausing. He doesn’t know what your plans are. Will you be staying there for however is necessary, or will you try to go somewhere else? He tells himself that’s a question for later, for now all that matters is that you recover and rest. “But, she wanted to let you know that she’s okay. She has no injuries, thankfully. Her floor was spared from the fire, and we can only hope that the building remains stable,” Miguel continues. “I’m not sure that she’ll be here today. I think she should rest but, just know she’s safe.”

“Man,” Peter B. says almost in disbelief, hugging Mayday closer. “Why didn’t she ask for backup?”

Miguel turns to Peter B., agreeing more than ever on something with him. “She didn’t want backup. She asked Lyla not to notify anyone, but I’m sure you all know that she - she’s always -” Miguel pauses, feeling the stares from the members. “She’s always diligent. Always cautious. She’s - ” Miguel waves a hand around as if telling the members that they should know this. The members watch him, fighting the urge to smile because it’s not every day that Miguel O’Hara gives compliments. “She’s amazing, so she did well on her own,” Miguel finally manages to say. “She’s just exhausted. If you wish to tell her something, I’ll set it up so that the notifications don’t disturb her sleep, or you can wait till later in the day and maybe do a live call.”

Your friends nod, feeling sad that you’re going through this but they’re relieved that you’re uninjured and if all goes well, your apartment should be fine.

“What if the building becomes unstable and her belongings are all lost?” Margo asks.

Miguel turns to Margo, his eyes moving to everyone. His eyes stop on Jess, who raises one eyebrow at him, wondering, too. He nods at your friends.

“I offered to store her belongings here but I’ll ask her again.”

“We can help her move her items if she agrees,” Pav replies.

Miguel looks around, watching everyone nod at Pav’s statement. He feels comforted by the fact that your friends are so supportive.

“I’ll let her know,” Miguel responds gently.

He watches as your friends begin to talk, sharing ideas of things they want to do to be supportive. Miguel stares at them as they walk out, planning. He turns to Jess and Peter B. who stick around.

“I’m glad you guys stuck around. I wanted to ask you something,” Miguel starts, facing them.

“We’ll take care of it,” Jess responds.

“What?” Miguel replies, frowning.

“She said we’ll take care of it,” Peter B. says with a knowing smirk.

Miguel glances between the two of them.

“You’ll do your thing for about an hour and then go home, right? That’s what you’re doing.”

Miguel turns to Jess, still frowning.

“We got it, Miguel. You don’t have to worry. We’ve done it before, remember? About a year ago when you were injured. You go and, you know,” Peter say as he plays with Mayday’s hand, who looks up at him and nods her head, as if she, too is telling him to go.

Miguel loses the frown and nods, having no way to deny that they figured out his plan.

“Right. So you guys will be okay?” Miguel asks.

“Yes,” Jess replies. “You go and check on her. Give us the hour before you head out though. I’d like to put something together for her, and as you heard, the other members want to do something. That way you can take it to her.”

“I’ll let everyone know that we have about an hour,” Peter says nodding at Jess.

“Alright. I’ll be working on some things here,” Miguel replies gazing at the two members. “Thank you,” he adds, sharing a look with them.

“No problem,” Jess responds.

“Happy to help. We just want Y/N to be okay and feel supported. She loves her apartment so much, I’m glad the fire didn’t reach her floor,” Peter says.

“Me, too,” Miguel answers softly, turning away to begin working on his screens.

Jess and Peter B., unbeknownst to Miguel, share a knowing look before they head out.

🕸️🕸️🕸️

An hour later, Miguel closes out from his tabs, ready to head out. He would be lying if he said that he hasn’t been thinking about you or that he’s been asking Lyla to check on you while he’s away. It’s been reassuring to have her check on you, at least.

Miguel quickly gathers different items that he needs to take with him, since he’s decided that he’ll be working from home for the rest of the day and then, he waits on his platform. Jess and Peter told the others he’ll be heading out to check on you and that he might not come back, even though they both know he’s not coming back today for sure. He looks up just as your friends come into view, carrying bags with them.

He receives bag after bag, nodding at your friends as they share tidbits about the items they bought you. Miguel finds it endearing, of course. His lips twitch, wanting to curl into a smile as the younger members mention buying your favorite snacks from their universe.

“I’ll give her everything when she wakes up,” Miguel promises, finding common ground with your friends.

Your group of friends thank him but before they head out, Miguel remembers something. “I’ve enabled her notifications again, only for you guys, so if you wish to send her something, it’ll go through.”

Your friends nod happily at the news and as Miguel prepares to leave, he can hear their giddy voices about being able to send you messages again. He shakes his head and smiles softly before he heads out, ready to check on you.

It doesn’t take long for Miguel to reach his home. He finds himself quickly there and after placing all the bags your friends sent on the kitchen counter, Miguel heads upstairs to check on you. He finds you in bed, still sleeping. You’ve changed sides but you’re still holding on to your pillow. The sight satisfies him. He’s relieved that you’re resting and that you seem so peaceful after everything.

Miguel heads back to his bedroom and takes a shower since he didn’t take one before leaving for HQ and dresses in comfortable clothes. His plan is to stick around the penthouse for the day and help you get settled in. He also wants to look around the penthouse and make sure there’s space for you to set your items if you wish to, since all Miguel wants is for you to feel at home.

After checking the entire place for any necessary changes, Miguel starts thinking about lunch. He debates between ordering takeout or cooking something and ultimately decides to cook, believing that a homemade meal will be more appreciated. He thinks about what he should cook and eventually decides on a few dishes, knowing he has the items necessary before he checks on your universe. He knows you always do a morning patrol so he has Lyla check and make sure there’s no emergencies. He also checks on your building to make sure that it’s still standing. He sighs in relief when he sees that it is through his screens at home. He reminds himself to offer to bring the rest of your belongings again once you wake up since even your other friends offered, meaning everyone is on board.

Miguel works on other things throughout the morning, reading data from other universes - making sure the fate of the multiverse isn’t in jeopardy but every thirty minutes or so, he asks Lyla to check on you since he doesn’t want to end up waking you by accident with him checking on you physically. Thankfully, Lyla reports that you’re well and still sleeping peacefully.

It’s not until almost noon that you wake up. You feel lost for a few seconds, not realizing where you are until you remember that you’re in Miguel’s penthouse after what happened this morning. You sigh heavily and sit up, pushing the covers off you and stretching. Your muscles feel sore but stretching eases them so you spend a few minutes doing this until you feel slightly better. You get out of bed and head to the bathroom to use it before you return to the bedroom to change out of your current clothes. You change into comfortable clothes yet they help you wake up and get into the errand mindset. You have some things you wish to do today, at least the high priority ones.

Feeling a bit more together, you head downstairs to get some water since you’re feeling thirsty but pause when you hear soft music. You frown slightly, wondering if you’re just imagining it since you’re certain that Miguel is at HQ but when you reach the bottom of the stairs and find yourself in the living room, you hear it clearly. Miguel’s record player that you gifted him for Christmas about a month ago is playing. You stand there for a few seconds, appreciating the music as it’s Billie Holiday’s “Blue Moon” - one of your favorite songs of hers.

“And then they suddenly appeared before me, the only one my arms will ever hold”

“You’re awake.”

You turn, surprised. “Miguel.”

“How are you feeling?” he asks as he walks further into the living room. His eyes scan your face subtly, searching for any sign of trouble or illness, however, his mind quickly returns to your words from this morning. Thinking about that leads him to remember his internal debate about opening more to physical touch and how he almost touched your cheek in your slumber, causing his cheeks to feel warm suddenly.

“Better. So much better,” you reply honestly, giving him a small smile. You don’t seem to remember what you said, at least not now. “My muscles feel a little sore but, I feel rested. Thank you for asking. For everything, truly,” you add sincerely, which triggers your memory suddenly. You freeze for a few seconds as you remember, feeling your cheeks turn hot with embarrassment, so you avert your gaze from Miguel’s. “I… I just remembered what I said this morning and,” you pause, scratching your neck gently, nervously. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with what I said. The words were just - rolling off my mouth.”

Miguel stands about twelve feet away from you, noticing the way you avert your gaze from him, the way you nervously scratch your neck, and how embarrassed you seem suddenly. He feels ternura rush through him as he stares at you. It’s the opposite of what you think you’ve made him feel, so he steps closer, wanting to assure you.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, so please don’t stress about it. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about either. I understand you were exhausted, it’s only reasonable, and besides…” Miguel trails off, and now he’s the one scratching his neck nervously at what he’s going to say. He’s never actually talked about it, not even with Jess who seems to have been the one who told you about it some time ago - about him not being able to do physical touch. “You know the reason why I can’t but… I want you to know something.”

You turn to face him, your eyes meeting his. You both stare at each other with a soft, tender expression.

“I feel honored that you - you want to do that,” Miguel says quietly, holding your gaze. “That I’m somehow worthy of you wanting to - embrace.” Miguel pauses and looks away for a few seconds. “You know that I’m trying,” he continues, his eyes meeting yours again. He lifts his hand, his pinky finger being the only finger that’s straighten up. “I know it’s nothing compared to an actual embrace but I’m working on it.”

You nod gently, smiling warmly at him. This is the first time Miguel has ever brought up the pinky squeezes or physical touch for that matter. You’ve known for some time now that his pinky squeezes are intentional but hearing Miguel audibly admit that they are makes your heart flutter with happiness.

Miguel gives you a small smile, still holding his pinky finger up. He remembers this morning and how he was feeling - how he went upstairs, not knowing what he would’ve done if you had been awake.

You slowly lift your hand, your pinky finger out, returning the gesture from a far.

Miguel sees it, of course, and with his mind on this morning’s events, he steps closer before pausing. He stays still for a few seconds before he takes several more steps until he’s just about three feet away from you - your pinkies within reach now.

You watch him gently, with curious eyes. So far, Miguel has always found some kind of loop, an excuse to make the gesture seem unintentional. There’s always an object exchanged between the two of you that allows the pinky squeeze to happen, to make it seem like the gesture wasn’t planned.

Miguel looks down at your pinky and then his. Your hands are empty, and so are his. He has no way to excuse his gesture, and he’s not sure that he wants one anymore. He moves his hand closer, his pinky just inches from yours. He looks at you, his beautiful red eyes meeting yours and you see it clearly. A question. Is it okay?

You nod, still smiling softly at him but keeping your hand still. You know the significance of this moment, how big of a step this is for Miguel in his journey to move forward. You stand still, giving Miguel time to decide if he really wants to do this. You’ve never pushed his boundaries, and you have no intentions of doing that now, or ever. You’ll always be patient and respectful of him, no matter what.

Knowing this, Miguel slowly moves his pinky towards yours. He feels comfortable and unhurried as you stand there, letting him decide if he wants to proceed.

And he does.

Miguel’s pinky touches yours at last, making your fingers look like an “X” for a second before Miguel wraps his finger around yours gently.

You remain still, feeling Miguel’s warm finger wrap around yours. You can see the size difference - the way the tip of his finger is enough to wrap around yours. His finger feels soft and you feel a little overwhelmed with the fact that this is happening, that Miguel is really doing this. Just when you’re growing used to this feeling, you see and feel Miguel’s pinky give yours a gentle squeeze. You lift your gaze from your united pinkies to his face, finding him staring at your fingers, too. There’s a light blush grazing his cheeks and when his gaze meets yours, you can see vulnerability and yet, happiness, too.

Miguel holds your gaze, and smiles softly at you. He's done it. It's a small step but a big one regardless.

You don't squeeze his pinky back but slightly brush your finger against his, a sensation that Miguel finds comforting. You stay like this for a minute, or maybe two until your gizmo goes off. The sound startles the two of you but your pinkies remain locked with each other for a few more seconds before you feel Miguel’s pinky release yours gently, leading to both of you dropping your arms down at your sides. You both feel the loss of touch but of course, neither of you mention it.

“That’s probably your other friends. They were really worried about you when I told them what happened,” Miguel says gazing at you. “They sent you gifts - they’re in the kitchen, which reminds me, I have lunch ready if you’re hungry.”

Miguel gestures to the kitchen just as your hunger hits you. You grin sheepishly at him and nod. “I’m actually starving… Thank you, Miguel,” you tell him sincerely, feeling grateful not only for offering lunch but for everything else, especially what he opened himself to do just now. You offer him a smile, warm and sweet, as you think about this new step he has taken. You also hang on to the fact that he said your “other” friends, indirectly calling himself your friend.

“Always,” Miguel replies softly, his gaze still meeting yours as he’s overcome with a great happiness. He has been trying for months, ever since his near death experience back in the spring. He briefly realizes soon it’ll be a year since that happened, which is crazy to him - how fast the months have gone by. However, he’s relieved by the fact that he has stuck to his promise. He said he’d be trying, and he has. His steps may be small and slow, but they’re steps nonetheless, and they’re steps that he might have not taken if it wasn’t for you and that incident. “C’mon,” he says, gesturing for you to follow him. “I cooked something I think you’ll love.”

You follow Miguel to the kitchen, spotting bags on the counter. You figure those are the things that your friends sent, but decide to look at them later. For now, you take a seat as Miguel gestures for you to do so, and realize what he made.

“Flautas,” Miguel says as he carefully but quickly serves you a plate with flautas. The toppings are already set out since Miguel placed them right before he was about to go and check on you. After placing your plate down, Miguel retrieves glasses before he pours you a glass of agua de Jamaica, freshly made.

You watch in appreciation at how extra attentive Miguel is right now. He is always attentive but somehow, he’s even more so today. You thank him quietly and offer Miguel a smile, who is trying to make sure that you have everything you need.

“Always,” Miguel replies, taking notice of your smile. This morning you were giving him smiles and while they were warm and welcoming as always, he could see they were small and exhausted smiles. It was visible to Miguel that the fire took a toll on you, both physically and emotionally. Now, your smile is the same as always. It’s warm, welcoming, and bright. It’s lively, and the difference makes Miguel happy and relieved. He reciprocates with a soft smile, his gaze warm. “Do you feel rested?”

“I do, thank you. For the food and for- ,” you pause, smiling. “For everything.” You give Miguel a little nod, deciding to keep it simple and not go off like you did earlier. “I think I passed out as soon as I laid down,” you say, chuckling a little. “I don’t remember even falling asleep.”

Miguel grins softly, though his mind turns to this morning when he went into your bedroom. He feels embarrassed thinking about how he almost brushed his finger over your cheek as you slept peacefully. He clears his throat, trying to put that thought away. “I’m glad that you feel rested, and I’m not surprised you fell asleep so fast. You helped evacuate so many people, including that firefighter who was injured. It was a lot and you were - well, you were amazing,” Miguel says gently, remembering that you were a bit sensitive when he said that earlier. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable with his words but he also cannot seem to stop himself from telling you the truth.

You smile at him, your cheeks growing warm as Miguel tells you, once again, that you were amazing. You look away a bit shyly, something that Miguel notices. It’s not often that he sees you like this, and he can’t help but find it sweet.

“Thank you, that means a lot to me. I was just - really hoping no one was hurt. Thankfully there were no tenants injured, at least not seriously. Some of them had a few bruises from them rushing to get out, but there were no casualties.” You pause, thinking about your building. “My building… I hope it’s still standing, and hope it remains like that.”

“It’s still standing,” Miguel quickly says to reassure you. “I’ve been checking on it.”

You sigh in relief. “That’s good, that’s… I’m so relieved. I need to go and check on the area, see what’s happening. I think it was an electrical fire,” you say before you start adding toppings to your plate, and taking a gentle bite.

Miguel’s eyebrows shoot up as he hears this. He hasn’t thought about the cause of the fire, but now that you’ve mention your suspicion, he can’t help but think about the condition of your building. He recalls the time he fixed some things in your kitchen, asking you about those little details. Your building is on the older side, and now that you’ve mentioned it possibly being an electrical fire - it makes Miguel wonder if the building is even up to standards on the electrical aspect. The possibility that it’s not, worries Miguel.

“What did you notice?” he asks.

You wipe your mouth before telling Miguel about the notice your landlord gave out, and the young women you ran into on New Year’s Eve and their short conversation, to how the fire seems to have started on their floor.

“Of course, I’m not saying it was them but… It does lead me to believe that maybe because of the holidays there were other tenants who overloaded the circuits. I’m not really knowledgeable on this but you know,” you say softly and Miguel nods. “That’s why I think it was an electrical fire. I wonder how soon they can figure it out. I don’t think it was arson, but I guess I’m just being wishful.”

Miguel nods and considers your words. “Maybe it was an electrical fire.” He frowns softly to himself as he pours some agua de Jamaica for himself. “Perhaps they have an idea by now of what happened.”

“I hope so. I would like to know.”

“Well… how about we eat and then we can head over there?”

“I would appreciate it, but I don’t want to disrupt your day. You probably have so many things to do at HQ.”

Miguel takes a seat next you, placing his plate in front of him. “Don’t worry about it. Jess is there and so is Peter. If there’s an emergency, they’ll let me know. Everything else I can keep track of from here, and I’ve taken care of a lot of tasks already throughout the morning.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, looking at him, unsure. The last thing you want to do is disrupt his day when you know how important the fate of the multiverse is to him.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Miguel replies with a small grin.

The two of you eat and listen to music while Miguel tells you about your friends, and how worried they were about you. You smile all the while, feeling grateful for such amazing friends. After finishing eating, Miguel begins cleaning the kitchen, telling you not to worry about helping him even when you offer. So, you find yourself sitting at the kitchen counter with a piece of paper and a pen, jotting down everything you need to do while Miguel quietly cleans. You make a list quickly, mentally walking through your apartment and remembering what needs to be taken care of immediately.

Once you finish creating your list, you head upstairs and change into dark clothes because you remember that your suit is dirty from the morning and you have yet to wash it. To hide your face, you wear a hoodie. When you head back downstairs, Miguel looks at you with a bit of surprise before he remembers your suit.

“Your suit,” he says. “I forgot to tell you that we could put it to wash. It would’ve been ready by now if I had remembered.”

“It’s alright, please don’t worry about it. With so much happening, washing the suit was the last thing I was thinking about.”

“We can put it to wash right now while we’re out,” Miguel offers, and you decide to take him up on that offer.

After putting your clothes to wash, you meet Miguel in the living room. You find him inspecting something small in his hands, and upon hearing you join him, he turns fully to face you. He extends his arm out to you, offering a small device. You look at him and then back at the device with curiosity before you take the device from his hand.

“So you can have a digital suit on” Miguel explains. “It’s just a black and grey suit with a simple spider web design. I remember I had it from the early days just laying around in the office upstairs. That way your face can be covered just in case there’s civilians.”

Nodding, you inspect the small device before you smile at him. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. Definitely don’t want anyone to get any ideas about my identity.”

Miguel helps you set up the digital suit, telling you how to disengage it, which takes a few tries but eventually you get it. You can’t help but think of all the pros of having a digital suit as you look at your hands, reminding you of the time Miguel offered a new suit after he unintentionally ripped a bit from his accident several months ago. You grin at him once you disengage the mask.

“Very cool. I could get used to this, I think,” you tell him and he grins back.

“It’s nice having not to worry about washing a suit but there’s some cons,” he replies as he engages his, suddenly standing in his suit in the blink of an eye. He disengages the mask, still grinning at you. “Something could happen - a malfunction - and leave your identity exposed. I guess that’s really the big con. You could also accidentally break the chip, and well, you’re left with nothing, not even a malfunction to fix. It’s happened before,” he says with a frown, remembering the time it happened.

You chuckle softly at the way he frowns which makes him smile gently at you.

“You could also accidentally delete the file, or your AI assistant does it because she thinks it’s funny.”

“Lyla,” you say with an amused smile.

“Lyla,” Miguel repeats shaking his head. “I have these bags ready so we can transport things easier, at least when traveling the multiverse,” Miguel says showing you.

“Thank you, that’ll definitely make it easier to move some things around.”

“Great, you ready?”

Once you nod, Miguel opens a portal to your universe. The two of you step out onto a random rooftop before you make your way to your building. You look for a few minutes at the condition. It looks different in daylight and without the adrenaline pumping through your body. In daylight and with no smoke, you can see the true damage. You say nothing but both you and Miguel can see that reconstruction will take some time. At least two months or so, if you and the other tenants are lucky. The only thing that gives you hope is the fact that the building is stable, or it seems to be.

“It would’ve fallen by now if it was unstable, right?” you ask Miguel softly.

Sensing that you want some reassurance, Miguel gently nods, and thankfully he doesn’t have to lie. He’s sure that it would’ve already collapsed, or shown signs, if it was going to but your building stands firm. “I’m sure it would’ve. I also…” Miguel trails off as his eyes scan the sidewalk, looking for some kind of warning. “I don’t see any sign warning about it. And look, the street is functioning. Surely they would’ve blocked the entire thing. It seems to be stable.”

You nod as your own eyes sweep the area, finding no sign like Miguel said, which relieves you.

“Do you want to head inside?” Miguel asks, wondering if maybe you need more time.

“Yes.”

With that, the two of you sneak into the building. You walk down the hallway, finding doors opened like you left them earlier this morning when you were making sure that everyone was out. Miguel looks around, his nose immediately registering the smell of smoke even though this floor was spared from the fire. You push the door open to your apartment, finding it ajar, and enter with Miguel behind. You look around for a few seconds, the smell of smoke is definitely here even if it’s not as strong as it probably is on the floors below.

Miguel stands back, letting you assess the space. He knows how much this apartment means to you, and he can imagine what you must be feeling right now. He’s glad your floor is still standing at least, but this is still a sad situation he wishes you hadn’t experienced at all.

“Right,” you say with a sigh. You disengage your suit and pull out the list you created earlier from a pocket, engaging the suit again minus the mask. “The fridge and food are the first thing.”

“You tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it,” Miguel says behind you, not wanting to overstep.

“I’ll go through the fridge. Do you mind taking out the food from the cabinets there?” you ask politely, gesturing to some cabinets.

“Not at all. I’ll pack it up,” Miguel replies as the two of you head into the kitchen area of your apartment.

You begin working on the fridge, cleaning it out to avoid spoiled food, and packing away things like drinks and other items that should still be good. You eventually move to the top of the fridge where you store your cereal. It was where Peter always placed it, and you kept it there even after his passing.

Packing away some cans of food, Miguel looks up as you place a cereal box labeled Spider O’s into a bag, catching his attention. He didn’t know you had your own Spider-Woman cereal. He continues to work on clearing out your cabinets, deciding it’s a story for later.

With the two of you working together, it takes twenty minutes to clean the kitchen. Miguel takes care of your garbage while you move to other areas of your apartment, like your living room. You eventually move to your closet to pack more clothes and other necessities while Miguel takes what’s already packed to his dimension. As he leaves to take two bags, you remember you haven’t agreed to staying at his place beyond tonight, reminding you that you still need to discuss that. You let yourself think about it as you pack other items until Miguel returns. A few minutes later, you’re taking out clothes from the dryer when he arrives.

“Need help?”

“No, it’s alright. I got it. I was packing my detergents when I remembered I have clothes on both machines.”

Miguel nods as he hands you a laundry basket for the damp clothes. “We can put those to wash again, if you’d like. They might smell like smoke.”

”Yes, you’re right,” you reply as you start placing the clothes on the laundry basket.

Miguel picks up another bag, closing it carefully. “Are there other bags ready for me to take?”

You gesture to some bags that mostly contain your clothes. “Those right there. This is the last of everything, so I can take some of them, too.”

“I can carry them, don’t worry. If you want to look around and make sure you have everything, go ahead. Take your time,” Miguel says softly, wanting to emphasize that you don’t need to rush.

“Thank you. I’m doing a quick scan but - looking at my list, that should be it,” you say as you pull out your list once again. You check it, looking for anything you may have skipped but find nothing. “That’s it from my list, but I’ll do one more round just to make sure.”

With your laundry basket pressed against your hip, you walk around the apartment trying to see if there’s anything else that needs to be done. You’re certain you’ll be returning over the next few days just to check up on things - maybe even open the windows a little bit while you do patrols to let the smell of smoke out. At last, you feel satisfied and see nothing else to do or retrieve, at least not at this moment. You sigh softly, thinking. You want to go downstairs, to the floors that were directly affected, but you say nothing.

Miguel and you return to Nueva York, to his penthouse. When you step out onto Miguel’s living room, you spot the bags. They’re all neatly aligned against a wall, ready to be unpacked.

“I’ve put the bags with food at the kitchen. I went ahead and put what was refrigerated in the fridge, so you don’t have to worry about that. I figure the rest of the non-perishable food can be organized later.”

“That sounds great, thank you,” you reply giving Miguel a warm smile. “You’ve helped me so much. I really appreciate it.”

“Always,” Miguel replies with a soft smile before he glances at the bags. “We organize those when we’re back?” You stare at him with curiosity, so he continues. “You want to look at the building, right? I’d like to go with you, just to make sure you’re safe. There may be loose debris.”

“You know me too well,” you reply, which makes Miguel smile once again. “I do want to look. Maybe it’s silly of me but, I’d like to for some reason.”

“It’s not silly,” Miguel says as he engages his mask again. “I’d want to do the same thing, so I understand completely. Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m ready.”

🕸️🕸️🕸️

Miguel and you step over debris once you find yourselves on the main floor where the fire started. As Miguel predicted, there are loose wooden boards hanging from the ceiling in some areas. There are holes in the floor and what is left standing is damaged. You warn Miguel to be careful as you head to the first apartment you were in earlier this morning. Looking around, there are signs that this apartment had it worse than other areas, leading you to believe that this is where the fire started for sure.

“This was the first apartment I came into. The apartment belongs to the young women.”

“It seems to be in the worst condition,” Miguel says as he inspects a wooden board.

“I was thinking that, too,” you reply as you move about, careful not to hurt yourself. You keep an eye on Miguel as well, especially knowing that he doesn’t have a spidey sense, so he doesn’t end up injured.

You check what’s left of a wall, not really having a purpose for being here other than seeing the damage up close for yourself. You inspect the wall before moving away, your eyes scanning what’s left of burnt items. Your gaze stops on exposed wires, catching your attention immediately. Upon closer inspection, without touching, you read the label on them. Something about the brand’s name reminds you of something, but you can’t pinpoint it in this moment.

“What did you find?” Miguel asks standing next to you now, finding you gazing closely at something.

“Some wires. I think this is what’s left of a string of lights. I was just thinking how the brand’s name sounds familiar but I can’t remember from where,” you say with a shrug.

Miguel takes a look at it. Something about it also strikes him but he, too, cannot pinpoint it.

“OBRN.”

“OBRN,” you repeat but shake your head. “I’m properly overthinking, but finding this and seeing the state of this one apartment does seem like the fire started here. I guess we’ll have to see.”

Miguel frowns at what’s left of the string of lights, wondering how the tag survived the fire but dropping the topic for your sake. Despite resting during the morning, Miguel is sure this is still exhausting, if not physically, at least mentally and emotionally.

“Yeah, I guess we’ll have to wait,” he replies as you turn away, quickly typing something onto his gizmo before he follows you.

You sigh softly and nod at Miguel. “This is definitely going to take some time,” you murmur more to yourself than Miguel, sadness and disbelief laced in your tone.

Miguel detects it and stands next to you, trying to provide some comfort with his presence. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispers. “The building will be fully functional in no time, I’m sure.”

Smiling once again, you nod at Miguel’s words. “Yes… You’re right. Everything will be okay,” you state, embracing those words.

The two of you stand there for a few minutes in silence. You decide it’s time to go as you feel a breeze hit your unmasked face, causing you to shiver and remember winter just started.

“Do you want to head back?” Miguel asks, noticing the breeze and the way you shivered.

“Yeah, I think it’s time. It’s getting colder,” you reply.

“It is,” Miguel answers as he opens a portal for the two of you, finding it safe to do so in this space.

The two of you head back to Nueva York, which makes you realize Miguel has traveled from your universe to his multiple times today just to help you. As you travel between universes, you tell yourself you’ll bake something for him in the next few days as a way to show your appreciation for all his help and support. Once in Nueva York, you put a load of clothes to wash since most of your clothes smell like smoke. You also put your suit and the other clothes you had on this morning to dry with Miguel’s gentle encouraging to make yourself at home and to feel comfortable using the penthouse however you need to.

Afterwards, Miguel helps you organize the food that was brought from your home, finding cabinets to store it at without messing his kitchen organization, something you were worried about. Of course, Miguel didn’t mind at all.

After a little break and showering again because of the smell of smoke, the two of you move upstairs to your bedroom for the evening. You’ve made your mind up but there’s some things you want to talk about with Miguel, points you hope to discuss later.

In the meantime, you and Miguel fix the bedroom. You set up your personal hygiene products on the dresser while Miguel safely unpacks your records and places them on the bookshelf. You proceed to place Peter’s record player on the desk for now and other items that belonged to him on the bookshelf.

As you do that, Miguel moves towards a box he remembers carrying here earlier in the morning. He doesn’t know what’s in it but he carefully picks it up and asks where he should place it.

“That’s Peter’s… belongings,” you reply softly as you stare at the box.

Miguel notices your lingering gaze, the way it softens. He gently offers it to you, figuring that you want to handle this box personally. You smile at him with respect and endearment, and surprisingly, shake your head.

“I trust you with it. I’m not opening it right now. I haven’t opened it in… some time, to be honest,” you reveal, holding one of Peter’s belongings. “I think it can go under the desk for now. Thank you, Miguel.”

He nods with a soft smile, feeling touched that you trust him with this box knowing how much Peter and his belongings mean to you. He proceeds to place the box under the desk, carefully, before moving on to something else.

At last, the two of you are done. You both sit on the bed and look around the room, seeing the progress. All throughout the process of fixing up the bedroom, you’ve been keeping track of the laundry, a chore you decide to tackle tomorrow when you realize it’s been a few hours since you and Miguel headed to your universe. There’s also the fact that you haven’t done a patrol at your universe, something that nags you.

Looking around the room, you notice how this feels like “your” room now. There’s Peter’s record player on the desk and your technology devices. Your personal hygiene products and other accessories are on the dresser. Some of your pictures are displayed on floating shelves, some of which include Miguel.

“Thank you for helping me set up,” you tell Miguel quietly.

He nods, looking at some of the photos. “Always,” he says turning his gaze towards you.

You grin at him before you check the time on your gizmo. “I’m going to - head out for a little bit. To patrol,” you explain. “I didn’t do my morning patrol, and it feels weird.”

“Understandably,” Miguel replies. “It’s just for today though. You’ll fall back into your routine, I’m sure of it.” Miguel turns to the window, noticing the sun has almost disappeared for the day before he returns his gaze to you. “I’ll be here if you need anything during your patrol. Take it easy, okay?”

“I will,” you reply with a small grin before you stand up. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Miguel nods watching you leave the bedroom and sitting in the room for a little while, thinking about dinner.

You head to your universe and patrol, feeling some sense of normalcy as you do this. You fly around your city, making your usual stops and feeling more at ease. Your night patrol makes you feel better as you swing between buildings and cars below, even when you think about Peter and his words from the dream. You give a silent thank you to him, finding his words soothing. Fortunately, you find no trouble or emergency, so you decide to head back to Nueva York an hour later, knowing you’ll still be able to know if something does happen.

It’s then that you receive a notification from Miguel telling you that he’s buying dinner and that he’ll wait for you on a rooftop, which makes you wonder for a few seconds before he sends coordinates. You head to Nueva York, traveling directly to the rooftop Miguel told you, realizing it’s a round building. You step out and look around, finding no one. You walk to the edge of the rooftop, looking at the nearby buildings and streets below in hopes of spotting Miguel. It takes you a few seconds but you eventually sense his presence through your spidey senses, or at least you believe it’s him. As you look around, you finally spot his suit as he swings from building to building with one arm while he holds things in the other.

He reaches you in no time, landing gently on the rooftop. His mask disengages as he approaches you.

“How did it go?” he asks.

“It went well,” you reply. “No encounters. It was peaceful.”

“That’s good,” Miguel says as he hands you a to-go cup. “I’m glad you had no trouble, especially after today.”

You thank him for the drink and nod. For some reason, it feels like it’s been days since the fire, as if it wasn’t this morning when you woke up and realized your building was on fire. You sigh quietly, chalking it up to the fact that it has been a long day.

“I hope you don’t mind but I bought tacos. There’s this great place in downtown and they make the best. I would say they have the best ones in Nueva York, really, and I thought after everything that it’d be nice to just eat out. Gabriel also used to say there’s nothing like tacos to lift someone’s spirits,” Miguel says with a soft smile as he gestures for you to join him.

You smile back and follow him as he reaches the edge of the rooftop. He places the bags on the ground before he sits down, his legs danging off the building. You look around for a few seconds before you join him, the bags between the two of you now. You watch as he pulls out boxes from a bag before he spreads the empty bag on the floor, and then placing the boxes over it so the boxes don’t make contact with the ground.

“That’s agua de horchata. I was going to get you agua de Jamaica but - the place is known for their agua de horchata, so I figured why not,” Miguel explains as he hands you a straw.

You grin and accept the straw before you try the drink, and of course, it’s amazing. “I can see why. It’s so good!”

Smiling, Miguel hands you napkins. “I thought you’d like it. On the tacos, I order a few of each since I didn’t know what kind you wanted, and I didn’t want to distract you while you were patrolling, so I thought this was a good option.” Miguel puts his straw into his cup, thinking. He’s telling a half-truth. He could’ve sent you a quick message about your order but he truly didn’t want to disturb you. He knows today has been a long day, not only because of the fire itself but the aftermath, too, with packing and taking care of the little things like the fridge and the food. He hoped that nothing came up at your universe so you could have a moment of peace, at least. Thankfully, it seems that it went well since he can see that you’re in good spirits. The other reason why he didn’t reach out about the food is because he wanted to surprise you.

He got the idea after you left and he remained in the bedroom, thinking about dinner. Being in Gabriel’s old room, Miguel remembered what his brother used to say about tacos, about how they could cheer people up. It was always his way to cheer up Miguel when he was stressed out, even back when Miguel was in college. Gabriel always joked that it was his love language, which always made Miguel laugh. He never dared to disagreed with the younger O’Hara on that.

Miguel focuses on the now as the two of you set up the salsas and lime slices to use on your tacos. Once that’s settled, the eating begins. You grab from one kind and Miguel from another, discussing how amazing the tacos are. Miguel tells you to try a salsa, while you tell him to try another one.

Despite the cold weather, the two of you enjoy your food and conversation on the rooftop, eventually talking about other things like your friends. The conversation about them leads you to remember their messages, which you read earlier, and the gifts they sent. You remind yourself to check the gifts once Miguel and you return to his place. At some point the conversation shifts and Miguel is telling you more about Nueva York. He tells you about the buildings around you before he tells you about the stores that can be found in Nueva York’s downtown. He mentions the public libraries, parks, and the Lunar Train, thinking to himself that he hasn’t been to those places in years but that it’d be nice to visit again. He looks at you when he thinks about that - an idea forming in his head but one he doesn’t voice. Not yet, anyway.

After eating, you thank Miguel for the amazing tacos. He asks which ones were your favorites, just so he knows for future reference before you both fall into a comfortable and peaceful silence, drinking from your cups with agua de horchata. Your gazes **take in the skyline of Nueva York at night, a sight you’re not used to but one that you love and appreciate when you have the opportunity to. You silently think about how beautiful Nueva York is before you look down, noticing you must be about fifty thousand feet in the air.

Miguel continues to observe the skyline before his eyes move higher up, finding a sky sprinkled with stars. He feels at ease, comfortable like he always does when you’re in his presence. He takes another drink from his cup, thinking. You’ve settled in and things have been taken care off at your apartment for the time being but there’s still something pending. Something neither of you have brought up. He holds on to his cup, still looking at the sky. Should he bring it up now? Should he wait?

Miguel doesn’t want you to feel like he’s pressuring you to stay, or for you to take him asking as a sign that he doesn’t want you to when in reality, it’s the opposite. He hopes you stay at his place so you’re not staying at a hotel with limitations. Plus, he doesn’t like the idea of you staying alone at a hotel, even if he knows that you can take care of yourself. He sighs quietly as he stares at the stars, silently debating. He feels some peace knowing you’ll at least stay at his place for tonight, maybe even the weekend, too.

You look up from the ground and stare at the sky, noticing twinkling stars. You enjoy the sight as you start thinking about how your friends offered a place for you to stay at, especially the Morales family. You’re grateful for your friends and their loved ones who were also worried about you but you politely declined. Everyone lives with someone already whether that’s with parents, spouses, or other friends, like Hobie, so you felt that it would be too much of an inconvenience. The gesture makes you incredibly grateful, however. You have loving and supportive friends.

“What are you thinking about?” Miguel asks softly.

You grin. “Honestly? About how everyone has offered me a place to stay in the meantime.” Your gaze drops to Nueva York’s skyline again, feeling Miguel’s eyes on you. “And how I’m so thankful I have all of you. It really means a lot to me. So much,” you say with a soft sigh. “Perhaps I was naive, but I never imagined this happening and - much less without Peter, you know? I’m just… I’m really happy - and so thankful - that I’m not alone,” you confess, turning to face Miguel at last.

Meeting your gaze, Miguel smiles gently, understanding what you mean. He’s glad that you’re not alone anymore, which is something that still bothers him. He hates thinking about how you spent so many years on your own. As time has gone by, Miguel has found himself wondering about those years. Did you ever get sick? Did you ever find yourself unwell because of your period like you did the first time he ever went to your apartment? There were other things he thought about, like the first year without Peter when you had already cut ties with friends. Who was there for you? Who looked after you? Who comforted you?

Miguel knows there was no one, and it bothers him deeply. So much, that he still wishes he would’ve found your universe sooner, even thought you told him a while ago that he found you at the “right” time. His uneasy thoughts about this are soothed by the fact that those days are over for you. You have friends - a little family - that loves and supports you.

And he, thankfully, is part of it.

“You’re not alone,” Miguel says, stating it as a fact. “You have so many people that love and support you. We’re all here for you - the way you’re always here for us.”

You smile brighter at that. “Thanks to the Spider Society,” you say softly. “You know - I can’t believe I declined Jess’s invitation at first.”

Miguel grins, chuckling quietly. “I think I remember you saying multiple times, too.”

“I did. And she came back and asked me again, until she finally convinced me by asking me what Peter would’ve thought.” Your smile softens at the thought of him, your sweet Peter. You turn to the sky, thinking that if it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be here now. Even in death, Peter has guided and supported you throughout the years.

You think about your dream from this morning, how he warned you about the fire. or at least, it seems so. A warmth spreads throughout your chest as you turn to Miguel. If it wasn’t for Peter, you wouldn’t be here now, next to one of your closest friends. You silently thank Peter.

As to Miguel, he gazes at you, noticing that soft look on your face as you think about the man he never had the opportunity to meet. Despite never meeting the man, Miguel also silently thanks Peter for being the reason you joined the Spider Society - for having you in his life now.

You sigh and smile at Miguel. “I want to negotiate some terms.”

Miguel’s eyebrows raise at this but he quickly realizes what you’re talking about. He gives you a small but playful smirk before he turns his body to you, pulling one of his legs inside and close to his body while leaving the other one still dangling off the rooftop. “Let’s hear these terms then.”

You mirror his position, leaving enough space between each other to place your drinks. “Okay, well first of all - you said not to worry about bills or rent, or even groceries.”

“That’s correct.”

“I realize I cannot help with bills or rent because of our different currency.”

“Yes, and there’s no way for us to convert it either,” Miguel replies all too happily about this.

You playfully glare at him, which only serves to amuse him more. “Yet. We should find a way to do that, to be honest but - as to right now, there’s no way. However, I can buy groceries.”

Miguel saves your idea about establishing a currency conversion system for the future. It might be something fun for the Spider Society. He briefly realizes that he’s into this idea, which makes him recognize that he has shut down other members’ ideas in the past. He wonders.

Is it that he has changed his mind because of the years and his progress in moving forward, or is it because it’s coming from you? He doesn’t have much time to think of it, and he decides maybe it’s for the better, at least for now, before he addresses your statement about buying groceries. “No, you don’t have to do that. I told you this morning that I’ll take care of that. The only thing, food wise, that you need to worry about is if it’s something that’s not available here. Everything else, I got it.”

“But Miguel -” you start, pausing and releasing a gentle but frustrated sigh. “I know I can’t help with bills and rent but please let me help with this. I know you’re being generous - supportive but I don’t want to just, you know. Stay there for however long this will take or however long it’s okay for me to stay-”

“I’m not kicking you out,” Miguel says, losing his smirk for a few seconds. Now he’s the one frustrated. “I wouldn’t be offering if I was planning on asking you to leave at some point. You can stay there for however you need, or want to,” Miguel explains.

“Thank you,” you reply softly. “But that means, it might be a little while, and you’re already being so kind by letting me stay with you. I can’t - just stay there and not contribute somehow.”

“You can, you just don’t want to,” Miguel says gently, earning himself a playful glare again. He grins. “Alright, what are suggesting then?”

“I want to help with groceries, and other ways. I know it’ll be tricky with the groceries, and I don’t have a good plan yet but I want to contribute,” you reply.

Miguel chuckles softly, finding it both endearing and amusing when you admit not having a plan yet, but still wanting to contribute. Understanding where you are coming from, Miguel nods at last. He knows you’re an independent woman in all aspects and you’ve probably become even more so since you’ve lost Peter. He understands that you feel the need to do something, to contribute. He realizes he’s been the same way for years - always trying to be independent. Miguel silently wonders if maybe, this temporary change will help the two of you relearn that some forms of dependency are not bad.

“I understand wanting to contribute somehow and I’ll respect it, even though I want you to know that I mean it when I say you don’t have to worry about these things… What I’m trying to say is that, you don’t need to worry about some kind of payment, Y/N. If it was me, you would be telling me the same thing. I know it,” Miguel replies. “I’ll be more than happy to cook for the two of us, but I also know that on some days you might want to eat something that I don’t know how to cook, so you can buy groceries if you wish but,” Miguel pauses and shrugs, grinning softly. “We could always plan meals. If you want to, of course. Or, have days where we cook something individually, which I’ll always make a plate for you just in case you want to try it. We can think of something, I’m sure of it. We’re not strangers, we’re…” Miguel trails off and nods at you. “You would do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” you reply quickly, without hesitation.

“Then, you understand. I don’t want any kind of payment. I don’t want you to worry about bills or contributing somehow. I just want you to feel at home as much as possible. I know it’s not the same as your apartment, as your universe but that’s my hope. I understand you want to do something though, so I’ll respect it. We can think of something as the days go by if it makes you feel better,” he offers gently.

“I’d like that. I don’t want this to feel like…” you trail off. “I’m taking advantage of you.”

Miguel shakes his head and smiles, reassuringly. “You’re not. You could never. I’m the one offering, and I’m doing it willingly and happily. I just want to help as much as I can. The same way you would help me.”

You sigh softly and nod. “Alright.”

“So, do we have a deal? Are you open to staying in Nueva York for the meantime?”

You hold Miguel’s gaze and nod. “Yes.”

“Good,” Miguel answers happily, relieved.

“Thank you,” you add gently.

“Always.”

The two of you smile at each other for a few seconds before turning to look at Nueva York’s skyline once again in silence, enjoying the rest of your agua de horchata under a star sprinkled sky.

_________ Translations of Spanish words: Mierda - Shit Dios - God Ternura - endearment, tenderness Flautas - literally translates to "flute"; a deep fried tortilla with meat filling and topped with various toppings like cabbage, salsa, fresh cheese Agua de Jamaica - hibiscus tea Agua de Horchata - sweet Latin beverage, mainly made out of rice _________ A/N: Hi, guys!! First update of the year!! I hope January has treated all of you well! 🥰 I'm sorry for the delayed update. I got caught up with some things after the holidays, and then decided to take a little break from social media and writing, so that delayed the update a little bit. I'm so happy that I got the update out before the end of the month though! What do we think, though? WE'RE STAYING AT MIGUEL'S PLACE!! 🥺 And he's so sweet about making you (us) feel at home (not me fangirling about my own work but it's Miguel)!! I just - I love him!! And Miguel being opened to more physical contact? He's moving forward!! 🥹 I hope you guys enjoyed this part!! I also want to give @sunsetdoodler credit and a shoutout for the Spider O's cereal! She included it in this fanart many months ago and I loved it so much I wanted to include it at some point. It'll show up again in the future for sure! Thank you @sunsetdoodler !! Your support means so much to me!! ❤️ Also, shoutout to Ana, or @faretheeoscar who led me to give a bit of a sneak peek about something that will happen in the future thanks to her "Promise Me Miguel" AU based on a dream she had (I wish I could dream of Miguel and our Peter 😭)!! I also want to mention, once again, that there's so much fanart that has been created for this fic by incredible and talented artists!! Please go and check it out, and show some love to the artists!! ❤️ You can find all fanart here - under the "Nonviolent Communication" header! Thank you guys for reading and supporting this story!! It means so, SO MUCH to me!! I truly appreciate all the support - from the reblogs to the comments and likes; to the asks about songs some of you have connected to the story to little scenarios and your thoughts on the story!! I'm always surprised to see that you guys think of the story in your daily life - like, you guys actually think about it? It always makes my day!!! 😭

I'm truly so grateful for all the amazing support this story has received so far, and I hope you all enjoy the rest of it!! 🥺 Thank you guys!!! I hope the beginning of February treats you well!! ❤️ -Alondra

Taglist: @loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp @rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze @yujyujj @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea @moonsua1 @darksidescorner@geminis93 @1800-get-alife @hrrtkreuz @oharasfilipinawife @dropyoursocksandgrabyourcrocss

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S1:E3; Chapter Three, Holly, Jolly - [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘠/𝘯, 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭. 𝘈 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳.

|| 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

El sat on Mike's couch, fiddling with the supercomm while the rest of us gathered around the D&D table.

"We just tell our parents we have AV Club after school. That'll give us at least a few hours for Operation Mirkwood." Mike states.

I nod my head in agreement. I never liked lying to my mom, but this was our best bet. If it will give us time to find Will, I'm all in. However, based on Lucas's nervous shifting, he isn't as sure.

"You seriously think that the wei- uh, El knows where Will is?" Lucas darts his eyes at me as he catches himself.

"Just trust me on this, okay?" Mike pleads.

"He's right. Will would do the same for any one of us." My words come out softer than anticipated and I look to Lucas, Mike then Dustin. I can tell they agree with me.

"Okay."

"Did you get the supplies?" Mike asks the three of us.

I straighten up, ready to present what I brought to the table. Lucas perks up, reaching down into his backpack and begins listing off the things he brought.

"Yeah. Binoculars... from 'Nam. Army knife... also from 'Nam. Hammer, camouflage bandana, and the wrist rocket." He pulls out the yellow wrist rocket excitedly, and I chuckle to myself, impressed.

"You're gonna take out the Demogorgon with a slingshot?" Dustin asked, unimpressed.

I scoff and look at my brother, knowing well enough it was better than what he brought.

"Well, what were you planning on doing, throwing a Nutty Bar at it?" I ask with a hint of humor in my tone. Lucas however, takes offense to Dustin's words.

"First of all, it's a wrist rocket. And second of all, the Demogorgon's not real." I look down at my shoes. "It's made up. But if there is something out there, I'm gonna shoot it in the eye..." he pulls back the empty sling and lets it loose, nearly hitting Dustin in the face. "-and blind it."

I have to say, I've got to agree with Lucas's logic here. Then again, we never thought that anyone could move things with their mind and look what El did. I am pulled from my thoughts when I hear Mike sigh.

"Y/n?" He looked to me hopefully.

"Well, with all things considered, I figured at one point or another we would end up needing this." I pulled the makeshift first aid kit from my backpack. Among it was a handful of ace bandage wraps, gauze, ointment. Some band-aids, and even a small pair of tweezers.

I smile proudly and look to Mike who nods his head in approval. "Good idea. We don't know for sure what we are up against." He looks to my brother. "Dustin, what did you get?"

Dustin perks up and empties the contents of his bag out onto the table.

"Well, alrighty." I look to my friends to try and gouge their reactions. "So, we've got..."

Dustin begins naming off all the snacks he brought as Mike and Lucas stare at him with a confused glance.

"-Nutty Bars, Bazooka, Pez, Smarties, Pringles, Nilla Wafers, apple, banana and trail mix." He finishes off with a proud smile, and I can't help but feel bad for him. I mean, I see where he's coming from. It's smart to have snacks in case, but I also feel like it might be a last resort type of thing.

"Seriously?"

"We need energy for our travels. For stamina. And besides, why do we even need weapons anyway? We have her."

"She shut one door!"

"With her mind! Are you kidding me? That's insane! Imagine all the other cool stuff she could do. Like..." His face lights up and he runs over to the plastic Millennium Falcon and picks it up. Oh, this'll be interesting.

"I bet... that she could make this fly! Hey. Hey. Okay, concentrate. Okay?"

I stand there, crossing my arms with an amused look on my face.

She stares blankly at him as he lets the toy fall to the ground with an obnoxious clatter.

"Okay, one more time." She looks back at him, the faint look of mock confusion crosses her face and I bring my hand up to my mouth to try and hide the growing smirk.

"Okay."

I notice from the corner of my eye as Lucas drops his head in what looks to be a mix of disappointment and embarrassment.

"Use your powers, okay?" He drops it again and I can see the amusement in her eyes, which only makes me giggle.

"She's not a dog!" Mike yells.

He stomped over and ripped the toy out of his hands, while I made eye contact with El and we shared a smile.

"Kids! It's time for school!" Mrs. Wheeler's voice carries through to the basement.

We all hastily pack up our things and Lucas and Dustin run up the stairs. Meanwhile, Mike and I stayed behind to say goodbye to El.

"We are gonna need you to stay here, okay?" I ask kindly. She nods her head.

"But you can't make any noise and you can't leave." Michael pleads. She seems uneasy about this but nods in agreement.

"Michael! Y/n!"

I'm about to say something when Mike turns around suddenly and shouts. "COMING!" I jump back slightly, a laugh escaping.

"You know those power lines?" he returns to El, in a completely calm voice, as if nothing happened.

She looks between us confused. "Powerline?"

"Yeah. The ones behind my house?"

"Yes."

"Meet us there, after school." I pipe up, catching on to what Mike was thinking.

"After school?"

"Yeah, 3:15." She sends us an apologetic look, she was clearly confused.

"Mike, what about your watch?" I nudge him, gesturing to his wristwatch. I would give her mine, but I don't have one.

He catches on quickly and begins taking off his watch.

"Ah." Once it's off his wrist, he gestures for her wrist.

El smiles slightly and lets him put the watch on her wrist. She looks to Mike, a smile still on her face as he adjusts the watch. I smile to myself.

'They are too cute.'

"When the numbers read three-one-five, meet us there," I said, grabbing her attention.

She looks down at the watch and recites my instructions.

"Three-one-five."

I smile at her and give a small nod. "Yeah. Three-one-five."

She smiles kindly at me, then at Mike once more. It might just be me, but I could have sworn I saw him blushing. Suddenly, he jumps up and runs up the stairs. I stand up, and dig into my extra bag I brought from home and bring it over to her.

"So, I didn't want you to be bored so I brought some things you might like." I open the bag quickly, knowing I'm keeping everybody waiting. I pull a couple of puzzles and some paper and pens.

"I don't know if you know what puzzles are but I brought you some of my favorites." I place some of my favorite puzzles on the table next to her and she eyes them curiously.

"It's a picture that is in a bunch of different pieces, and you try to fit them all back together. It's a great way to pass the time. And, I didn't know what else you might like so I just grabbed some paper and some of my best pens. You can draw all you want. I wish we could stay with you, but we have to go to school so nobody will suspect anything. We'll be back. Promise." I smile at her and she returns it.

I swing my backpack over my shoulder and wave goodbye before darting up the stairs.

Halfway up, I stop in my tracks and run back to the bottom for a moment.

"Oh. And if you get hungry, you are more than welcome to have Dustin's snacks." I wink and run to catch up.