#Spider has a great time in this chapter

[spicymiilk]

The Thunder Answered Back- CH 2

Another chapter of the Modern AU is up! They are quite silly.

Some angst, some laughs, terrible karaoke, and lemon cookies are brought to you by the furious writing haze I have found myself in recently. Spider is bad at emotions, Lo'ak is bad at emotions, it's all bad, but hey! It'll get better eventually, maybe.

Chapter Summary:

“Spider,” Lo’ak says. It’s lost in the rain or in Spider’s tears. He can’t tell.

Spider gasps. “I’m sorry,” he says helplessly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make shit weird.”

Sorrow presses down on him; it’s so strong that he imagines if he looks down, there would be an ident in the wood.

Word Count: 10,982

[criibibi]

Synopsis: After losing so much, Spider-woman learns to just keep moving. Only for her to end up somewhere far from home. Her first agenda is figuring out where she is, and how to get back. The only problem is that she ended up somewhere fictional (to her). Playing hero with Batman was not in her bingo cards this year. Hopefully she will be able to make it back home before she catches unwanted attention.

Masterlist: Prev; Next;

Chapter 2 - Spider Luck

Morning came quickly despite the shitty sleep you received that night. The constant tossing and turning, the constant fear and anxiety of getting caught or broken into, really you couldn’t catch a break. 

Despite that, you did get some sleep, even if the sum total was like three hours. Still, it’s not like the nightmares would have let you sleep regardless. All your failures would consume your thoughts and drown you, reminding you of your losses. 

Sure you moved on, but it’s not like you had forgotten. Uncle Ben’s wisdom, Aunt May’s lessons, and Peter Parker’s kindness. You vowed to honor and cherish those memories, but here you are, in another fucking world, with a high possibility of you breaking some laws just to get out.

Desperate people do crazy shit, and you aren’t that sane to begin with.

Luckily this motel has a shower and you plan to use it. Making sure to clean yourself with what you have (unfortunate) and pick up the necessities that you desperately need. 

Taking your time (since you paid for it) you get yourself ready, making sure your mask, gloves and (stolen) wallet are secured inside the hoodie’s pockets. Suite nice and tucked underneath the turtleneck and leggings. First order of business is shoes. Maybe that should have been your first mission yesterday- oops. 

You definitely should have followed the young spiderlings example and fight crime with shoes. Well if you ever meet them again, you will…

When you meet them again. You will. You have to. No matter the cost.

And then your stomach rumbled. “Great! Time for cheap food. Wonder if that knockoff Wack-Donld place is open. 

Oh that’s a nice plan. But you forgot one thing, genius. Where is it? How would you know where it is? You can’t even map it since you also don’t have a phone. 

About to unlock the door, you realized something. It already was unlocked… “Hmm…” Well, it was good that you webbed the door then.

“Fuck.” Leaving the motel keys at the front, you skedaddled your way back into the streets, looking for either a bodega or a shoe store. In order to keep yourself somewhat sane, you start softly humming music you recall Miles shared with you.

After some time of walking around aimlessly (you avoided asking others for directions, gods know gothamites unwritten rule is to mind your fucking business), you found a thrift store.

Guess what you realized while browsing for shoes. If you buy and fight crime with shoes, and (as of right now) are your only pair, you will get found out. So crocs it is!

Black ones, because white gets dirty too damn easily.

Finding your size and other clothing necessities, face-mask, a backpack and a portable sewing kit, you were good to go and all for a cheap price! God you love thrift stores. You used to go to as many and as often as you could with Peter. Ya had a bad spending habit and Peter certainly never discouraged you. He was your terrible financial buddy.

Not now! You can’t reminisce right now, not until you found a way home. Asking the cashier for directions while also subtly declining their phone number (your excuse is that your phone got stolen) you made it to a corner store. Hurray!

Making sure to stock up on snacks, since- let’s be real, this will be your food source for a while, (no income, remember, silly) you stand in line to pay before your spider sense goes off.

Behind you. There’s a man, hoodie on, looking down, covering their face, hands buried inside their pockets. You’re betting it’s either a gun or a knife. 

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot.” Oh, it’s a gun. How original.

The cashier seemed to clock in to what is occurring and subtly reaches under his counter. Not subtle enough because the man behind you yelled, pulling out his gun and pointing at the back of your head.

What the fuck spider luck.

You quickly assess your surroundings, making note that there is only one exit, two normal people not including you but including the gunman, and the room feels tight and too small to do anything.

Conclusion? You’re fucked. 

“I said don’t move, hands up! Give me the money, all of it!” From the corner of your eyes you can see just how fidgety this man was. Probably trigger happy if you do something stupid.

“He-hey man, I don’t got much in here.” The cashier had his hands in the air, trembling and freaking out. 

“I don’t care, give me the money! Yours too, bitch. Now!”

How rude. “Alright, I’m going to get my wallet. Don’t shoot.” You made slow movements of reaching into your pocket for the wallet.

“Hurry up! Both of you!” The thug yelled impatiently. You could practically feel how sweaty and anxious this guy is.

You watched the employee open up the cashier and take the money out. The assailant motioned for you to place your wallet on the counter, which you do and step to the side, getting out of his way. Just as he goes to grab the money you quickly grab the wrist with the gun and twist it, making sure he dropped it before smashing his head onto said counter, money flying everywhere. 

Both you and the cashier watched the assailant fall to the ground, nose bleeding and out cold. “Um,” The cashier looked at you, spooked. “I panicked.”

Hey look at that, no shots fired baby! Ya still got it! You are a pro-fess-io-nal~!

“Hey man, no-um no sweat. You saved me.” He replies with a tremble in his voice.

“Cool, cool, I also didn’t want to get shot. How much for my stuff?” You asked, picking up the money on the floor, handing it back while placing your snacks on the counter..

“What stuff? I see nothing. Just go. I already called the cops.” Oh, so he wasn’t reaching for a gun (corner stores usually have one under the counters) but a buzzer or something? Nice, cool, great.

“Thanks buddy!” Hey man, free food is a blessing. Picking up your wallet and bag of snacks, you step over the knocked out guy, (pick pocketing any cash he had on him,) picking up the gun with your sweater sleeve and placing it at the counter. “Here, for the cops.”

“Thanks so much, again for everything. Hey, can I get a name? For the next time you come and…buy stuff.” He shot his shot.

“I appreciate it man, but I don’t give out my name like that. You know?”

And he missed.

“Ye-yeah…” He looked like a kicked puppy.

Just as you stepped out you heard the sound of a motorcycle nearby and your senses went off again.

“Stop right there, not another step.” A third party voice joins the fray.

What the fuck, spider luck?!

Instantly you recognize the vigilante in front of you but regardless you are not taking any chances today. 

Taking a step back inside the store, making sure to close the door on the guy. “Um, hey not to alarm you or anything but there is a guy with a mask standing outside.” Bringing your hands up (again) you back away from the entrance, snack bag swinging around with your movements. 

The employee nods pulled out the pistol from the counter (what the fuck, why would you grab that with your fingers my dude?) and aimed.

Well at least he doesn’t hold grudges for being rejected.

The door swung open and there stood a masked vigilante, but a familiar bat symbol on his chest caught the employee’s attention.

“Oh thank god it’s not another one.” Putting the pistol again he sighed in relief.

“Ah!” The yellow vigilante turned his focus onto you, (who backed up so much you tripped over the k.o.ed dude, fucking embarrassing) hands still in the air and snacks littering the floor.

Some professional you are. Fuck you spider luck.

“I didn’t steal anything, I swear.” God, you're embarrassed and stressed.

The vigilante ponders for a few seconds, taking in the scenario, glancing at the employee who nods and turns his attention back. “Sorry about that. Here.” He extends a hand out towards you and to not be suspicious you hesitantly take it, your body tenses on instinct, pulling away immediately.

“Thank you.” you mumbled silently cringing at your embarrassment over spilled snacks.

“What happened?” He still faced you but you knew that question was for the other party member. And even if it was for you, you’re silent.

“That dude tried to rob us and they knocked him out. Oh,” The cashier looked at his hands. “This is his.” And placed the pistol on the counter.

This looks like the perfect time to poof away so you do. Right after you pick up your snacks. Signal sees this and silently aids you. “You both aren’t hurt, right? Need medical assistance?”

No you fucking don’t.

Holding out the bag as Signal placed the last snack in you as you shook your head. “I’m a-okay. Thank you though.” And you walk out for the second time. You could still feel his eyes on you until the door closes.

And guess who shows up.

The men in blue.

“Hold it right there.” Bro, you just want to be left alone, is that so much to ask? This time instead of bringing your hands up (for a third time), you instead clutch your bag to your chest, mask down and point inside, making sure your voice matches your facial expression.

“In there, he stopped him there.” meek, timid, nervous.

It seems to have worked as the pair of policemen entered the store and you didn’t think twice and booked it (in a non suspicious manner- if you run, they might chase). Passing by a yellow motorcycle you take a glance back and see the vigilante stepping outside the store, looking somewhat bothered in the presence of the authorities. 

Sucks to suck, bud, you know that feeling very well, not your problem anymore.

As if feeling your eyes on him he turns his face towards you, your eyes meeting a mask. Oh fuck! You felt your hair stand up. Holding his gaze for a few seconds before turning away (any other abrupt movement would definitely make you look suspicious) you continue on your way.

Forcing yourself to not tense up and fight the urge to shiver at his cold gaze you round the corner and you feel somewhat safer again. But it’s a false sense of security, because you know you’re slowly losing your mind.

Hopefully you won’t run into him or any of the other bats.

-

Duke Thomas was patrolling his territory, the Narrows, when he got a notification.

“Signal, there’s a robbing occurring five blocks from your location. The corner store Convenience. Know it?” Oracle’s voice spoke through the comms.

“I know my way. I’m checking it out now.”

“Checking the cameras- there are only three people inside. The assailant, a civilian, and an employee.”

“Got it-”

“Oh wait. Huh, well look at that.” Disbelief could be heard through the comms.

“What is it?” Did things escalate too fast?

“The civi knocked the guy out. Basically one move.” Color Oracle impressed.

“I’m here, anything else I should know about?”

“I’m scanning what I can see of their face, but I’m coming up blank. I’ll let you know if anything.”

Duke didn’t reply, instead as he pulled up he saw someone coming out of the store. “Stop right there, not another step.”

He watched the figure (gender unidentifiable with the oversized hoodie) freeze before making eye contact with him-er his visor. Despite the hood being down, he could not see their face completely with their mask, only their eyes and hair. Just a normal civilian, who apparently knocked out a guy with a gun.

Then silence and no movement.

Until the civilian backed away, closing the store door.

Stunned for a moment, Duke could hear Oracles snort through the comms. “Think they’re scared?”

“From what, me? They took down a guy with a guy and I scared them?” 

“Careful, gun pointed straight at you inside.” warned Oracle.

He moves towards the front door, pushing it open to see the civilian from earlier backing away still, hands up before turning his attention to the employee with a gun. “Oh thank god it’s not another one.”

“Ah!” A yelp caught his attention and it seems the civi tripped on the knocked out guy he just noticed. They immediately spoke, catching his eyes,“I didn’t steal anything, I swear.” 

Duke holds in a snort before glancing at the employee who nods in confirmation before he focuses on the fallen person. He calmly walks towards them, taking note of their discomfort and reaches his hand out. “Sorry about that. Here.” 

Despite his covered eyes somewhat obscuring his vision, he couldn’t will them away from this stranger’s visible face. 

Duke watched their hesitation but placed their hands in his, and he swore he felt a spark that sent shivers down his spine. How curious. He pulled them up, noting just how light they felt in his hold.

“Thank you.” Their voice was soft, but audible.

They quickly pulled their hand away, the warmth gone. His hand held its place for a couple of seconds before he let it fall to his side. “What happened?” He still faced the civilian, both unmoving. He already knew what occurred, Oracle told him everything, but he wanted to hear them talk more.

Only the employee replied. He took note of their lack of eye contact. 

“That dude tried to rob us and they knocked him out. Oh,” Duke glanced as the cashier placed the gun on the counter. He’ll leave that for the cops to pick up if they don’t get here before he leaves. “This is his.”

His attention is once again stolen as the civilian in front of him kneels to pick up their half empty bag. Standing above them, he notes the tips of their ears are red, how cute.

“You good there, romeo? You kinda have a staring problem.” Oracle’s voice snapped him out of his trance.

Duke cleared his mind (he hoped he didn’t look weird or creepy, yikes) before leaning down as well and helped pick up the tossed chip bags.

Though he did take his time, just to squeeze a bit more time with this civilian that he has yet to identify. “You both aren’t hurt, right? Need medical assistance?” He mostly directed this question to them than the cashier behind him. He wonders if Oracle figured out this civilian's name. 

Placing the last snack inside the plastic bag he watches them straighten up before shaking their head. “I’m a-okay. Thank you though.” His eyes couldn’t seem to leave their figure as he watched them walk out the door.

“Cops outside, Signal.” Oracle once again breaks his attention. 

“Got it.” Duke turns his attention to the guy on the floor, sitting him up as two officers enter the store. One takes the guy off his hands while the other questions the employee, taking the gun.

A slight restless feeling took over him and he made his way outside, the one carrying the passed out guy following. Duke quickly takes notice of eyes watching him and he turns to see the complete unmasked civilian from earlier. 

This time, he really felt like he had a staring problem. He drinks up their appearance like water. Their nose, lips, face shape, everything. He didn’t know how to explain it, but he really couldn’t look away this time. Everything around him suddenly felt silent. He felt his body shiver.

Such a pretty face, this civilian caught his breath regardless. He’s not one to lose himself by a pretty face but it seems this one was an exception. He felt mesmerized, entranced, and tongue-tied. Something about this person had a strong lock on him, and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat excited then put off. It felt like a very tight leash, and he doesn’t mind one bit.

Three seconds. Ever since he caught their gaze, they made eye-contact (despite him wearing a mask) before she looked away and left, turning the corner. (Their features look pretty feminine so he’s going with her). 

“Anything Oracle?” He mumbled, still a bit lost.

“No dice. How strange…”

Bummer. He mounts his ride and drives off to finish the rest of his patrol. He’s tempted to drive in the direction the civilian went to, but he wills himself to not do that. God it’s like he’s down bad. Really bad.

Hopefully he gets to see you soon, it seems you’re staying in the Narrows which increases his chances to see you. As much as he curses himself internally, he hopes he can save you next time something dangerous happens again.

Something formed in the pit of his stomach, and he doesn’t know if it’s desire or obsession.

Regardless, he embraces this feeling whole heartedly.

Prev; Next;

I struggled really hard, like REALLY hard. Duke is new to me (i only learned of him because of the webtoon) Now I'm reading issues he has been in and I don't know his character well but there is a SEVERE lack of Duke fics and I made it everyone's problem. So now he's down bad.

Updates are random and spars, no update schedule and don't plan to make one. This is my hobby not my obligation.

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess ♡ 𝓒hapter 𝓕our

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. you encounter a few problems in your apartment. luckily, your handy next door neighbor comes to your rescue. his kindhearted actions keeps leaving you speechless.

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. fluff, swearing, pet names, tension, little angst, reader has arachnophobia (a little self-indulgent), terrible military knowledge, backstories, miguel is a sweetheart

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

a quiet saturday to relax.

the gloomy weather as a cherry on top. gray, puffy clouds covering the sky. gentle breezes passing by, flowing through the trees. the forecast said it would rain later in the afternoon. oh it’s just perfect.

the perfect weather to snuggle on the couch with a blanket wrapped around you, a few snacks on the coffee table, watching your favorite movie or show, and luna laying beside you. the perfect day off.

as you head to the bathroom and turn on the light, there is a thick black spider in the corner of the ceiling. you let out a terrified scream like you’ve seen a horrifying monster. well, technically spiders are horrifying creatures to look at. not to mention your terrible case of arachnophobia. you’ve hated spiders since you were a child. while playing outside with the neighbor kids, a spider was crawling on your arm and you screamed bloody murder.

you’ve been traumatized since.

when you lived with your parents and roommates in college, someone else would kill the spider when you found one. they were understanding, although they would pick fun at you sometimes.

but now, as a young adult living on her own, there’s a fucking spider in your bathroom and the entire floor must’ve think you’re being murdered.

luna is barking and running up to you as you bolted out the bathroom. she barks when you’re scared. you try calming her down so your neighbors don’t get upset while your heart is pounding like a fucking drum. blood pressure through the roof.

you screamed so damn loud that someone is knocking on your door.

oh fuck.

the last thing you want is an upset neighbor and might dial 911 for a ridiculous misunderstanding.

approaching and opening the door with shaky hands, your next door neighbor stands in front of you with the biggest concerned look on his face.

“what happened? are you hurt?” he sounds a bit breathless. eyes filled with panic and chest heaving.

a huge wave of embarrassment hits you, making you grimace. you were right, your neighbor believes you are screaming bloody murder.

“no no, i’m fine. it’s just— oh god.” you groan, that wave of embarrassment hitting you like a fucking brick. a hand covering your face, rubbing the temples of your forehead frustratingly.

his frown deepens, growing more concern. miguel was about to repeat the two questions but you manage to speak up again.

“i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to scare you, i just—“

“what happened?” he sounds more serious, desperately wants to know the issue.

you close your eyes and inhale a deep breath, preparing to embarrass yourself in front of your next door neighbor. “there’s a big ass spider in my bathroom and i freaked out.”

you spit it out so quickly that you believe he can’t understand at first, but he did.

a big weight was lifted off his chest. the panic leaving his body. you aren’t hurt, that’s good. his expression relaxes a bit but his brows remain furrowed.

a spider scared you, seems natural.

but the scream you made tells him that you are deadly afraid of it. a scream that made his heart stop. miguel never bolted out his apartment so quickly.

“do you need me to kill it?”

you finally look up at him, taken aback by his offer. “oh- no, it’s okay. i’ll probably just spray poison.”

from a great distance, you thought.

“i’ll kill it so you’ll feel safer.” miguel insists.

did this man just make your heart skip a beat for the millionth time?

yes, he did.

you shake your head. “no, it’s okay, seriously. i don’t wanna bother you with my stupidity.”

“hermosa, leaving you alone with a spider that made you scream will bother me.”

how is this man so fucking nice?

you also don’t miss the new pet name, making your cheeks more warm than they already are.

a hinge of guilt lingers in your heart. this man has fixed enough of your problems, he can’t fix more. especially a stupid one like this one. although he did insist on you asking him for help when needed. and you know he won’t stop insisting until you give up.

with a quiet sigh, you accept. “alright…”

moving to the side, you allow him to enter your apartment once again. you show miguel to the bathroom, stopping in front of the door. you offer him the poison but miguel insists toilet paper is enough. his hand will finish the job. although, he still takes the poison as extra precautions.

miguel notices the hesitation and fear illustrated on your face. the noticeable distance you set yourself between the bathroom door. your hands folded together and pressed against your chest, a sign of fear. the sight makes him frown.

he also noticed the lack of eye contact. miguel can sense the embarrassment and it’s completely understandable. he doesn’t blame you one bit.

although, he does wish to see your eyes for a second.

as miguel heads into the bathroom to deal with the bitch ass spider, leaving the door closed so you don’t witness it, you remain outside waiting anxiously. scooping up luna in your arms and holding her for comfort. the harsh thud makes you jump a little.

miguel killed it. bless him.

you hear the toilet flushing as miguel exits the bathroom. the bitch is gone for good.

“it was hideous.” he says amusingly.

you softly chuckle. “yeah, thank you.”

“of course. you okay, now?”

“yeah now that the bitch is gone.” that earns you a soft chuckle from him. “sorry for scaring you, you probably thought i was murdered or something.”

“you did sounded terrified but i’m glad you weren’t hurt. it’s okay, don’t feel bad about it.”

“my bad case of arachnophobia explains it all.” a soft, awkward chuckle escapes your lips.

he frowns ever so slightly, lightly nodding. “it’s understandable. if there’s a spider, don’t hesitate to call me over.” miguel said sincerely.

this man keeps making your heart flutter with his sweet acts of service and kindness.

walking back to the living room, you past by your bookshelf which miguel stops in front of when he notices one of the shelves is slightly crooked.

“you need a new shelf.”

his statement makes you turn around, glancing at the crooked shelve. “oh- well, it isn’t that bad. it seems fine.” you shrug.

miguel looks at you with a disbelief expression. “fine? chica, the poor shelf is on the verge of breaking.” he gestures at the shelves. “those books will fall.”

you wave off with a hand. “it’s fine, give it three more months then it will collapse.”

to you, it really did seem like it was just slightly misplaced and can still manage.

to miguel, the shelve looks like on its last brink considering the amount of books on it.

you have a lot of books, he thinks to himself.

it’s not a bad thing. people have their hobbies. it’s just fascinating to him. miguel wonders how many books do you read in a week? or maybe even a day?

“give it three more seconds and it will collapse.” he said. “let me fix it for you.”

you simply blink at him, surprised. “no, you don’t have to. you already killed a spider for me, you don’t have to do anything else for me. plus, that isn’t a big a issue so don’t worry.”

“hermosa, do i have to remind you that you can always come to me for help?”

okay, again with the new pet name.

it makes you weak.

“ya sé, but that i don’t need help with that shelf. at least not now, it’s perfectly fine.” you said nonchalantly.

one of his thick brows quirks, a deadpan look settled on his features. “i’m two seconds away from walking back to my apartment to grab my tool box.”

this man really never backs down. there’s really no need for him to fix that dumb little shelf for you. it does look fine, to you at least. but your heart can’t deny his kindness and you know he offered to fix things for you. for free, as a reminder.

there’s no point of arguing because it’ll waste both your time. in the end, you accept his help, causing miguel to break into a little smile.

how could you say no to that smile?

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

miguel is fixing your shelf and you’re in the kitchen cooking dinner. he’s been too invested in fixing it to realize you’re making dinner for you both. that’s how you’re repaying him, he just doesn’t know it yet.

“your shelf is fixed.”

pausing the cooking, you quickly walk over and see the now fixed shelf. not that crooked anymore.

“thank you.” you flash him a smile, he hums in return.

you return to the kitchen, miguel following you curiously after putting away the tools in the box, placing it on the marble counter.

“¿qué estas haciendo?” miguel asks softly beside you, peeking at what you’re cooking.

“teriyaki chicken, one of my favorites.”

“qué rico.” the smell of the sauce invades his senses, causing his stomach to rumble a little.

you feel him stepping away, turning around to see miguel about to put on his shoes.

“adondé vas?”

“home.”

“you’re not leaving without food.”

he quirks a brow amusingly before lightly shaking his head. “i appreciate it, chica but i’m okay, gracias.”

“you helped me today so i’m repaying you with food.” you place your hands on your hips, standing in sassy posture. “i ain’t taking no for an answer.” you smirk.

the hint of authority in your tone intrigues him. his lips match yours. he got a hint of your sass at the bar with all your friends that night. to see your true self, sassy and interesting sense of humor yet caring. just so authentic with some sass, miguel was intrigued.

that’s why he couldn’t stop admiring you that night.

he was given the privilege to see the other side of you, the true side. you aren’t just his neighbor.

“pues… i can’t say no to that smell.” he smirks, eliciting a soft laugh from you.

after serving yourselves, you offer to do it for him since he’s a guest but miguel kindly insists he’ll do it himself and to not worry, you sit at your little dining table across from each other.

“wow… that was the best teriyaki chicken i’ve ever had.” miguel gently wipes his mouth with a napkin.

“oh you’re being too nice now.” you playfully roll your eyes, unable to hide your smile.

“en serio.” he smiles. “it was really delicious. it’s different from other ones i’ve had, it was incredible.”

you shake your head, smiling. “well, kudos to my mom. she makes it the best.”

“she’d be very proud.”

the comment warms your heart.

“reading is your hobby, huh?” he asks.

you nod. “since i was a kid. it relaxes my mind, especially after a long ass day at work.”

“favorite genre?”

“murder mystery, or sci-fi.”

“i noticed the amount.” he gestures at the bookshelf.

“can’t help it, they’re that good.” you chuckle.

miguel chuckles as well. “i don’t doubt it.”

“is building things your hobby?” resting your elbow on the table, you place your chin in your palm.

“robotics club, remember?” a smirk on his face. “still do, when i’m not away.”

“you said you served 9 years, verdad?”

“sí and still counting.”

“what made you decide to sign up, if you don’t mind me asking?”

miguel goes silent for a few seconds. you notice how his eyes immediately tear away from yours. the way his shoulders tensed for a moment.

oh fuck, was that too personal?

you’re about to apologize but he finally speaks.

“my brother wanted to, i signed up with him.” miguel reveals. “he always wanted to join the military since we were kids. he wanted to be a soldier, like the bucket o’ soldiers from toy story. i couldn’t let him out of my sight so signed up with him.”

your heart warms at the adorable story. “brothers stick together, huh? that’s cute.”

the corners of his lips twitch ever so slightly, not a complete smile like before. “este güey, pinche loco. couldn’t leave him alone for 5 seconds without him getting his ass busted.”

“the glories of having younger siblings.” you chuckle.

miguel nods. “you too?”

“no, i’m actually the youngest.” you laugh softly. “i wasn’t getting my ass busted, though.”

that elicits a chuckle from him. “how many?”

“two, a brother and sister. my sister is the oldest.”

as you tell him stories about you and your siblings, you realize miguel never mentioned his brother’s name. you’re curious to know.

“oh by the way, you never told me your brother’s name.”

you notice his shoulder tense again, seems hesitant to answer your question. it worries you a little. each time you mention his brother, he tenses.

“gabriel.” he reveals.

a nice name.

“it seems like your mom really liked the ‘el’ part.” you joke, softy chuckling.

silence follows after, making you look at him to see the solemn look on his face. his gaze on the empty plate in front of him instead your own.

fuck, you might’ve pushed it too far.

what’s going on with you tonight?

“i’m sorry, that was rude of me to say—“

“don’t be, please.” miguel quickly reassured you. “it’s true, she did like the ‘el’ part. she did like matching things with each other, even with her own kids.” he offers a kind, small smile. his gaze back on yours.

his smile makes you feel a little better. you offer one of your own, sharing gentle smiles.

glancing at the two empty plates, you reach to collect his plate but miguel grabs it and yours, standing up from his seat.

“wait, i got it—“

“don’t worry, chica. i can take them for you.”

“you’re a guest, you shouldn’t have to.” you try to take the dirty plates from him but miguel slowly moves them out from your reach.

“you cooked for me, i should wash them.” he insists in a gentle manner.

“es mi casa, i’m the one who should wash them.”

“at least let me help you.” miguel pleads.

you really insist that he shouldn’t since he’s a guest but you know arguing over a topic that doesn’t need to be argued about is unnecessary.

you accept his help but only to pass the dishes, you still insist on washing them. miguel simply laughs at your stubbornness but agrees, saying as long as he gets to help you. plus, you can’t deny that smile.

once the dishes are done, it’s time for miguel to return to his home considering it’s dark outside.

“thanks for your help today.”

“siempre. your dinner was delicious, gracias.”

“be expecting that more often.” you smirk.

“you don’t have to, chica.”

“i want to, it’s my gratitude.”

miguel can’t help but chuckle, appreciating your kindness. luna slowly approaches him, her tail wagging as she sniffs at his feet.

“she likes you.” you glance down at her with a smile.

“i’m glad she approves.” he jokes.

you say goodnight each other, thanking miguel one last time before he leaves. you close the door once you see him enter his place. scooping luna in your arms and shutting off everything in the kitchen, you head to your room for the night.

just as you past by, you stop in front of the bookshelf. you stare at the newly built shelf miguel did for you today. the sight and memory makes the corner of your lips curl up into a smile.

a memory you won’t forget.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @miguelsfavwife @asterrrrose @glossygreene @aefin @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @jadeloverxd @sirendyes

( 𝓝𝐎𝐓𝐄 : special shout-out to @aphinthestars for the bookshelf idea! thank you for helping! dedicating this chapter to you! )

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖THE LIGHTNING ON TRACK | THE GRID'S REACTION

fandom. formula one & mcu

about. the grid reacts to the news!

content warnings. some drivers are acting like assholes, some cursewords, 23!grid

notes. have another reaction chapter hehe

daniel ricciardo Guys

Guys wake up

IT'S IMPORTANT

lando norris ???

daniel it's 5am, why are you spamming rn

carlos sainz It's summer break, why can't you all shut up for once

daniel ricciardo Did no one see the news? Stark is coming to F1

carlos sainz To a race?

daniel ricciardo No you shithead, he's making a team

charles leclerc !!!!

lando norris at this point you'll never win monaco (because once stark joins, there no longer will BE monaco) charles leclerc Fuck you, nowins

daniel ricciardo This is serious... Tony fucking Stark wants to create an F1 team for the next season. @/max verstappen your winning streak will be over

charles leclerc Next season??? I thought for 26?

lewis hamilton Of course he would do that

charles leclerc Lewis, explain?? daniel ricciardo Yeah Lewis, please explain?

lewis hamilton Did any of you ever meet Tony? He will probably see the next season as test for the 2026 season. To train his mechanics and engineers and go all out. I bet many are saying it's a waste of money

carlos sainz It is a waste of money.

daniel ricciardo Yeah, they do. Reactions vary but 'experts' are saying that Tony is just wasting his time and should properly prepare for 26

lewis hamilton Knowing him, he already has a fully built car for 2026 and it's a beast.

fernando alonso Only the best for his daughter!

charles leclerc What. lando norris wdym his daughter??

george russell Why are you all awake at this bloody hour?

kevin magnussen Read the room. Everyone is in schock.

sergio perez Stupid. She will fail like every woman in motorsport with a rich father. Too dramatic.

lando norris i'm still confused???

oscar piastri Tony Stark has three children. Harley Keener-Stark, Y/n L/n-Stark, Peter Parker-Stark. Y/n is his only biological child and currently racing in Formula 3. She won Formula 4 last year.

charles leclerc I thought he only had sons?? When did Y/n appear? oscar piastri She 'appeared' the first time in January this year as Tony's daughter, no one knew before. lando norris how did you know? oscar piastri Google exists.

carlos sainz So daddy's money... great.

max verstappen I swear to god I will leave this chat the next time you all decide to fucking gossip at 6am like old women

daniel ricciardo It's important news!

max verstappen No it's not. Stark will be in F1 for a few years maximum and then leave again. It will pass

daniel ricciardo @/lewis hamilton you here? Don't you have anything else to add??

Fine, I'll guess I just ask the rest of the grid, you fucking bore.

daniel ricciardo @/everyone wakey wakey, it's time to wake up and talk!

mick schumacher Daniel? What's up?

george russell Ignore him. He has been annoying us because Tony Stark is coming to F1 and no one really cares. charles leclerc Lies and slander! I care!! lando norris yeah! me as well, idk what you're yapping abt

carlos sainz It's bullshit.

arthur leclerc Why do I have a bad feeling about Monaco...

ollie bearman THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN THINKING bianca bustamante It will be something for sure

lance stroll Well, I'm just happy to see another friendly face at the paddock :)

carlos sainz Of course you know Stark.

lance stroll You're just jealous esteban ocon As am I??? I'm your best friend AND MY BEST FRIEND HAS THE POTENTIAL OF KNOWING SPIDER-MAN???? AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME???????

daniel ricciardo I want everyone who knows anything related to Stark to immediately share with us because Lewis is ignoring me and I need to know. The only info we have right now, is that Stark will make a F1 team and that's it. I refuse to believe that's it. So, @/mick schumacher @/lance stroll spill the beans.

mick schumacher He didn't say anything last time I saw him, so I can't help you much.

lance stroll I know nothing, ask my dad.

daniel ricciardo I don't believe you.

pato o'ward If they say they don't know anything, then they don't? I don't know what's the problem, just wait for the next press release

max verstappen Do you even know Daniel. He's unable to wait for gossip. And he classifies this as gossip

daniel ricciardo Gee, thanks, feeling the love here

nico hülkenberg I wake up to 100+ notifications, why are you all like this?

kevin magnussen They're all idiots.

kevin magnussen @/tony stark could you please speed up with the press release? Daniel is setting all grid chats on fire and it's not funny anymore.

y/n stark ha, weak ass bitch kevin magnussen Watch your mouth missy

tony stark Should I tag Seb in a Tweet to announce it?

peter stark do it y/n stark do it harley stark do it

pepper potts-stark Don't do it. We will proceed with the plan. No matter how annoying the people in your private life are.

kevin magnussen Yes, ma'am, sorry for asking.

sebastian vettel I deserve more than a Tweet at 10am.

y/n stark speak your truth king peter stark sorry for suggesting otherwise (@/yn stark stop being such an attention seeker, we all know seb loves charles the most) y/n stark but charles is not here rn is he?

daniel ricciardo @/kevin magnussen EXPLAIN YOURSELF?!

carlos sainz What is going on now...

charles leclerc KMAG FOR STARK???? I didn't put this on my bingo card, now I lost 100 bucks. Fuck you Kevin

arthur leclerc Pay up bitch

oscar piastri Well done, man

nico hülkenberg And so he leaves he burning, ever sinking ship... the true hero- sorry, I meant coward

daniel ricciardo @/kevin magnussen I KNOW YOU'RE ONLINE YOU COWARD, COME HERE

I just want to talk to you

kevin magnussen No.

*kevin magnussen has left the chat*

fernando alonso There is your answer

several people are typing...

taglist. @lilypadlover , @adorablezhui , @peqch-pie , @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel, @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @akiraquote , @kiiyoooo , @nichmeddar , @nothingfuninthislife , @minkyungseokie , @fionaschicken , @lyrasconstellation , @spideybv28 , @keii134 , @starssfall , @tpwkstiles, @fangirl-dot-com , @nichmeddar , @lady-laura-speaks , @nikfigueiredo , @hinamesgigantica , @brakingboundaries , @almostjollypizza , @yoremins , @raizelchrysanderoctavius , @celesteblack08 , @watermelon-sugars-things , @lighttsoutlewis , @radiantdanvers , @vellicora, @sterredem , @hiireadstuff , @jolixtreesunn , @mypage-myfandoms , @nelly187 @greeneyesandsunshine , @fulla02 , @welovediaaxx , @whyamireadingthis , @67-angelofthelordme-67 , @blueberry64857959 , @winchesterwife27 , @six-call , @skywalker1dream , @mellowarcadefun , @cherry-piee , @peterholland04 , @motorsportloverf1 , @renarots , @msbyjackal , @woozarts , @leclucklerc , @yl90

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DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE SERIES TAGLIST? please leave a comment on this post or send a non anonymous ask!

ARKHAM MAID 2024

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

I feel so dumb for never having realized this before but I was thinking about the bookend in AGoT between the Others, the dragons, and two heroes: Waymar Royce and Daenerys Targaryen.

While squaring off against the Others, Waymar Royce asks for a dance.

Ser Waymar met him bravely. “Dance with me then.” He lifted his sword high over his head, defiant. His hands trembled from the weight of it, or perhaps from the cold. Yet in that moment, Will thought, he was a boy no longer, but a man of the Night’s Watch.

It’s notable that this scene is eerily silent save for the bits of dialogue. And when Waymar’s dance finally begins, there’s a notable lack of music.

The pale sword came shivering through the air. Ser Waymar met it with steel. When the blades met, there was no ring of metal on metal; only a high, thin sound at the edge of hearing, like an animal screaming in pain. Royce checked a second blow, and a third, then fell back a step. Another flurry of blows, and he fell back again.

I’ve always asserted that Ser Waymar is a failed last hero if we judge his success based off Old Nan’s blueprint.

So as cold and death filled the earth, the last hero determined to seek out the children, in the hopes that their ancient magics could win back what the armies of men had lost. He set out into the dead lands with a sword, a horse, a dog, and a dozen companions. For years he searched, until he despaired of ever finding the children of the forest in their secret cities. One by one his friends died, and his horse, and finally even his dog, and his sword froze so hard the blade snapped when he tried to use it. And the Others smelled the hot blood in him, and came silent on his trail, stalking him with packs of pale white spiders big as hounds—”

Both Ser Waymar and the last hero lost their companions and both had their swords shatter to the cold. Yet Waymar failed to complete one important step: find the children of the forest. The children are also known as “the singers”. So it’s notable that Ser Waymar attempts to dance without any music(ians) to accompany him. And because he does so, his dance ends in failure.

But then we have Daenerys Targaryen in the Dothraki Sea.

As Daenerys Targaryen rose to her feet, her black hissed, pale smoke venting from its mouth and nostrils. The other two pulled away from her breasts and added their voices to the call, translucent wings unfolding and stirring the air, and for the first time in hundreds of years, the night came alive with the music of dragons.

Dany performs a miracle in bringing dragons to life, the first person to do so in centuries. And these dragons sing a song that proclaims her, an exiled young princess and a widow, Azor Ahai reborn - the champion of fire, and warrior of light.

This bookend between the first and last chapters is so poignant. It’s not just that fire has returned to combat Ice. It’s that Dany brought back the music necessary to complete this dance. We start the book with a failed hero and end it with the rise of a true one; also interesting that Waymar’s end comes while he’s down on his knees whereas Dany rises to her feet reborn.

This makes Dany’s identity as the promised prince(ss) all the more impressive.

“He has a song,” the man replied. “He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire.” He looked up when he said it and his eyes met Dany’s, and it seemed as if he saw her standing there beyond the door.

Waymar failed because he didn’t have a song to accompany him. Yet Dany has a song to dance to. A song of fire.

I think this raises some interesting questions regarding the nature of this great conflict. There not only has to be a song to dance to, but it seems that there is a key distinction between the singer and the dancer. Rhaegar Targaryen failed to fulfill the prophecy because he was the singer and not the dancer. His role was to provide the hero’s musical accompaniment. In a way, it’s almost like he as the bard is the herald. And the herald is rarely, if ever, the main character. So notice how Rhaegar heralds the hero, the king, while looking at Dany.

But! - there’s different kinds of songs. Dany has one, made by her dragons. But it’s not be the only one. The children of the forest are heavily associated with the last hero and while Waymar Royce is dead, there lives another: Bran Stark.

Bran found the children, the singers, and is a step closer to completing the last hero’s journey.

Now Bran is an interesting case.

“Go,” Bran whispered to his own horse. He touched her neck lightly, and the small chestnut filly started forward. Bran had named her Dancer. She was two years old, and Joseth said she was smarter than any horse had a right to be.

He has a dancing horse but at some point has to leave her behind. So does that mean that he has to learn to do the dancing in his own way?

And I find it interesting that Bran has a female dancer horse because this creates a neat parallel with Dany, a dancer who may also be the stallion that mounts the world; if it’s not her, then it has to be her mount, Drogon. This is important if we consider that the last hero, Azor Ahai/the promised prince, the Stallion That Mounts the World, etc. are all different yet complimentary manifestations of one heroic legend.

But the issue of songs doesn’t end there because there still exists one Jon Snow, another version of the last hero and promised prince. Jon isn’t a bard but he has been positioned as being adjacent to dancers. I won’t harp on about Jon’s parallels with Waymar Royce because they’ve been done to death. But it seems that Jon, like Bran and Dany, will succeed where Ser Waymar failed.

Because not only does Jon have music to herald him:

That night he dreamt of wildlings howling from the woods, advancing to the moan of warhorns and the roll of drums. Boom DOOM boom DOOM boom DOOM came the sound, a thousand hearts with a single beat.

But he is also positioned as a last man standing among many dead heroes:

“Stand fast,” Jon Snow called. “Throw them back.” He stood atop the Wall, alone. “Flame,” he cried, “feed them flame,” but there was no one to pay heed. They are all gone. They have abandoned me.

And he has a sword that will not shatter against the cold:

“Snow,” an eagle cried, as foemen scuttled up the ice like spiders. Jon was armored in black ice, but his blade burned red in his fist.

It’s noteworthy that Jon is the son of a singer, Rhaegar Targaryen. The very singer who sang the song of ice and fire; and notice how Jon is clad in both. Plus he has been mentored by another, Mance Rayder, whom he eventually succeeds.

At a quick glance, it’s very interesting to me that Jon is constantly listening to songs beyond the Wall. There’s the song of the blue winter rose (which in a way heralds his own birth), the song of Joramun and the Horn of Winter, and many others.

It’s also noteworthy just how often giants are mentioned as the subject of songs in Jon’s POV chapters. I bring this up because of the Last of the Giants:

Ooooooh, I am the last of the giants, my people are gone from the earth. The last of the great mountain giants, who ruled all the world at my birth.

I think there is a parallel here between the dragons, the giants, and the children of the forest. These are all dying species, yet they linger on for the song of ice and fire still needs to be brought to completion.

And let’s consider where our heroes fit in all this. Dany commands the dragons, Bran learns from the children, while Jon begins to befriend the giants. All these creatures make musical accompaniments for our heroes to dance to.

Lastly, I’m inclined to think of the Stark girls though I’m not entirely sure where they would fit in all of this. Arya, at some point, trains to be a dancer:

On the way back to his chambers, he came upon his daughter Arya on the winding steps of the Tower of the Hand, windmilling her arms as she struggled to balance on one leg. The rough stone had scuffed her bare feet. Ned stopped and looked at her. “Arya, what are you doing?” “Syrio says a water dancer can stand on one toe for hours.” Her hands flailed at the air to steady herself. Ned had to smile. “Which toe?” he teased. “Any toe,” Arya said, exasperated with the question. She hopped from her right leg to her left, swaying dangerously before she regained her balance. “Must you do your standing here?” he asked. “It’s a long hard fall down these steps.” “Syrio says a water dancer never falls.” She lowered her leg to stand on two feet. “Father, will Bran come and live with us now?”

Now Arya is no singer, but her wolf is.

In another place, his little sister lifted her head to sing to the moon, and a hundred small grey cousins broke off their hunt to sing with her.

On the other hand, Sansa is no dancer but she is known for her ability to sing. And boy does she sing beautifully.

Her throat was dry and tight with fear, and every song she had ever known had fled from her mind. Please don't kill me, she wanted to scream, please don't. She could feel him twisting the point, pushing it into her throat, and she almost closed her eyes again, but then she remembered. It was not the song of Florian and Jonquil, but it was a song. Her voice sounded small and thin and tremulous in her ears. Gentle Mother, font of mercy, Save our sons from war, we pray,

In fact, a lot of Sansa’s songs are prayers for those who dance to the music of swords. Her songs are soothing, calming. And see this during Stannis’ assault on Kings Landing when she is able to calm Sandor and the noble women through the power of song. Hers is not a song to dance to, it’s a different kind though I’m not entirely sure what it entails. I do want to say, though, that Sansa is often paralleled with creates that take flight; various birds and bats. So she is a singer, much like the dragons.

I may have neglected other characters here, but I just thought it was intriguing that our main heroes (Jon, Bran, Dany, maybe Arya) are all positioned as dancers for the song of ice and fire.

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Nov 6th

~*~

1. Hello! Thank you everyone and the admins for doing the great work 🥰

A - Itmf for fics where Wei Wuxian (or someone else) develops a talisman/curse or somehing that shows people's bio relations (maybe to prove he is not a Jiang/to prove the Jins evil/any other reason), and the use of such thing causes secrets and misdeeds of others to turn up. Any kind of chaotic or angsty energy and everyone in shock and trying to manage the damage of their secrets aired out for the audience.

I have no preference over whether Wei Ying turns out to a Wen/actually Jiang/anything else, but it would be great if he finds out he is not all alone in the world in means of blood and is accepted into someone's loving arms. The Lan family angst is cool, but please no Lan Xichen or Lan Zhan's bashing (But everyone else can have a field day)

B - As an alternative, just a modern AU with Wei Ying doing some kind of DNA testing to prove his relations and the concequences/reactions of others is also acceptable.

P.S. I have recently read All Things Belong by kuroi_atropos, amazing work, so i wanted to read something else in this field. Definitely recommend! @shellennium

1A)

❤️ And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 138k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together) it occurs in chapter 12. my suggestion for 1a fills the first half of the request, WWX doesn't discover any relatives though

Debts of a Child Part 2 by Hauntcats (M, 111k, WangXian, YZY Bashing, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Angst and Feels, lots of anger, JC Bashing, not Jiang friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Content warning for icky spiders in later chapters., hurt no comfort for Jiang siblings.)

Cuckold by ramber (M, <1k, Madam Jin/OMC)

Sunset, Sunrise by Ariana Deralte (ArianaDeralte) (T, 57k, WWX & WRH, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Crack, Temporary Character Death, sorry I killed a-Yuan for a few paragraphs before the time travel, WWX is a Wen, Genius WWX, WRH gets to rewatch the series as a treat, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, in this house we acknowledge that all the sects have flaws, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, WWX Has ADHD, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Autistic LWJ) (link in 8C)

~*~

2. hello! thank you for all the work you do. itmf: wangxian not returning to cloud recesses post-canon and them having a strained relationship with the lans that wwx IS NOT guilty about. no CQL please. bonus if sizhui leaves with them but not required

tails and scales series by notsofluffyunicorn (E, 37k, WangXian, Fluff and Angst, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, LWJ Has Feelings, LWJ Needs a Hug, LWJ Leaves the Gusu Lan Sect, Hair Brushing, tail brushing, No World Building, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Autistic LWJ, Selectively Mute LWJ, because of anxiety, Healthy Communication, Soft WangXian, Married WangXian, Smut, A/B/O, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX,Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, tail pulling, Rough Sex, LWJ Has a Biting Kink, LWJ & WWX Have a Breeding Kink, Dirty Talk, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Domestic Fluff, Mpreg, Pregnant WWX, Chronic Pain, Protective LWJ, Protective WWX, Canon Divergence, Gusu Lan Sect Bashing, slight LXC bashing, But that will get better in future stories, non-graphic birth, Introspection, Rimming, POV LWJ, POV WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, No Wen remnants, WangXian Are LSZ's Parents, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, LWJ's 33 Lashes Punishment, No Thirteen Years of WWX's Death, WWX in WWX's Body, Parents WangXian, Shedding season) but it's an au so it doesn't exactly fit. They leave though and live their best lives

~*~

3. itmf fics where some combination of lwj-wwx-jc one killing the other, accidentally or otherwise.

ok if it includes mxy resurrecting wwx, or wwx raising lwj-jc as a corpse à la wen ning, but I’m not looking for this as a jumping off point for time travel or that kind of fix it. not bashing, I just want them to feel their feelings. bonus if jyl is alive in especially in a jc-wwx scenario.

💖 Regrets by antebunny (G, 37k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Time Travel, Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Explicit Descriptions of Love, and other squishy feelings, Angst with a Happy Ending) it's cql canon and uh LWJ accidentally stabs WWX in nightless city

~*~

4. Hi! I have an ITMF! Fics where WWX is treated poorly or cruelly in the Cloud Recesses after marrying LWJ, can be with him knowing or not (or even participating), post canon or not, and him (and maybe LSZ) being rescued by one of the Jiangs or Jin Ling (or even someone else). I don't mind AUs as long as it's not modern setting ones! Bonus points if it has Jiang Yanli in it :) Thanks!! @jiangclaritybell

Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gusu Lan Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending) it covers some of what you seek. Be prepared it's very angsty.

To Bring You Back Within My Reach by ablaiseofglory (M, 22k, WIP, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Angst with a Happy Ending, No dubious consent, Adopted Children, Kid Fic, A/B/O Dynamics, omega wwx, Alpha LWJ, Misunderstandings) to bring you back within my reach by ablaiseofglory. It's a WIP but it recently updated

~*~

5. in the mood for a fic where wangxian are VERY freak4freak or codependent… equally unhealthily obsessed w each other <3 @xinilia

truly a love story for the ages by sweetlolixo (E, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, Omegaverse, Dark LWJ, Dark WWX, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Dark!Wangxian, Power Couple, slight daddy kink, Crack, Pregnant WWX) but I'm not sure if the vibe truly fits, they are freak4freak

~*~

6. Hiii... for the next itmf post, please recommend some lengthy time travel fics. Please can it be newer fics (2023 / 2024) and fully completed fics. Wangxian pairing, of course. Thank you 😊 🙏

there are multiple in the Same Moon Shines series by sami

Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It)

🔒 Here With Me by iamwish (T, 58k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, wwx turns this into a no war!au, Canon-Typical Violence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Bad Parent YZY, POV WWX, POV LWJ, POV JC, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, WWX Has PTSD, and also depression sometimes, Unreliable Narrator, (all of them))

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 163k, WangXian, JFM & WWX, JC & WWX, WRH & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, LWJ & NHS, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, musical cultivation, Slow Burn, Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Demonic Cultivation, POV WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Worldbuilding, No Yīn Iron, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Artist WWX, Musician WWX, Night Hunts, Fate & Destiny, Bad Parent JFM & YZY, Golden Core, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Father-Son Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Parent-Child Relationship, Angry WWX, Pining WWX, WWX is Not Okay, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Pining LWJ, POV LWJ, Angry LWJ, One-Braincell Wangxian, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love)

We’ll Build A Dynasty (one the heavens can’t shake) by One_eyed_God (T, 66k, WangXian, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, WWX & JYL, canon typical Jiang family dynamics, BAMF WWX, Canon JC Characteristics, POV Outsider, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, WWX is a Wen, Sect Leader WWX, Genius WWX, The Casual Intimacy of Hand-Holding, A Love Letter to WWX, Not JC Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It)

🔒Til Death Do Us Part by Thyone14 (Not Rated, 73k, WangXian, Time Travel, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, WWX Needs a Hug, Protective LWJ, Soft WangXian, POV LWJ, POV Alternating, No Smut, POV WWX)

The Stranger Inside My Son by Mademoiselle_A (T, 73k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, But from an outsider's POV, JC is So Done, JFM's A+ parenting, YZY's A+ Parenting, Both are not great but this is not a bashing fic, JC-centric, But from JFM's POV lol, POV Outsider) is focused on Jiang Cheng but Wangxian do get together in it.

🔒if you can’t beat them, recruit them by moeblobmegane (T, 228k, Wangxian, NHS & WWX, WWX & WQ, Time Travel Fix-It, Conspiracy, Spies & Secret Agents, Team as Family, Found Family, Burial Mounds, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Pining, Morally Ambiguous Character, Rumors, Politics, Developing Friendships, Good Uncle LQR, Demonic Cultivation, YilingWei Sect)

💖 The Echoes of that News Ring Loud by Scarlet_Gryphon (T, 111k, NHS & NMJ, 3zun, sangning, wangxian, time travel, fix-it, nie wwx, happy ending)

Moments of Revelation by meyari (T, 133k, ChengSang, WangXian, XiYao, POV JC, Canon Divergence, Temporary Character Death, Character Death, not anyone we care about, Time Travel Fix-It, Self-Sacrifice, Torture, Chronic Pain, Chronic anxiety, Grief/Mourning, PTSD, Chronic Mental Health Issues, Assassination, renamed MY, Families of Choice, Unreliable Narrator(s), Demonic Possession) Plus others by the same author

A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Getting Together, First Time, Pining while fucking, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Angst with a Happy Ending, CQL Verse, almost everybody lives/almost nobody dies, epistolary-ish, canon-ish side pairings, radishes) is my fav time travel long fic but it was late 2022 so it doesn't exactly match the newer fics (2023 / 2024) qualification.

~*~

7. ITMF fics where wwx gets a different title? Like in “dispersing clouds” or “flowers blooming” he has a different title than YL - if there’s smut, no b!lwj, and ideally nothing cql compliant (but donghua/novel/audio drama/manhua/etc is fine) @lovelyiknow

Just go forward like you mean it by tawaen (M, 101k, WangXian, WWX & WN &WQ, WWX & JYL, NHS & WWX, Canon Divergence, WWx does not attend the Wen indoctrination, WWX saves Lotus Pier, Inventor WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, Sect Leader JYL, JC Has No Golden Core, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Not JC Friendly, but he gets a happier ending than canon so don’t look here for bashing)

🧡 All will be well when the day is done by abCEE (T, 76k, WangXIan, Canon Divergence, Fix It, Not Jiang Family Friendly, JFM & YZY Bashing, Fix it for our main characters, Time Travel, Butterfly Effect, Madam Lan Lives, No Sunshot Campaign, Artistic License, Unreliable Narrator, JC Bashing, non-yunmeng WWX, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Good Uncle LQR, OOC, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WWX gets the love and care that he deserves from the very beginning, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiangs, verbal and physical (c/o Zidian) abuse from YZY) link in #8B

🔒💖 Resilience. by Vrishchika (T, 7k, WangXian, Time Travel, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Self-Indulgent)

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 163k, WangXian, JFM & WWX, JC & WWX, WRH & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, LWJ & NHS, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, musical cultivation, Slow Burn, Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Demonic Cultivation, POV WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Worldbuilding, No Yīn Iron, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Artist WWX, Musician WWX, Night Hunts, Fate & Destiny, Bad Parent JFM & YZY, Golden Core, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Father-Son Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Parent-Child Relationship, Angry WWX, Pining WWX, WWX is Not Okay, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Pining LWJ, POV LWJ, Angry LWJ, One-Braincell Wangxian, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love) link in #6

💙🔒 Away from Trouble by Ilona22 (M, 15k, WangXian, Not JC Friendly, LWJ/WWX Get a Happy Ending)

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, wangxian, WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, What if WWX saw the first siege of the burial mounds and said Nope to the war, OCs, OC point-of-view for one chapter for plot reasons)

Take Responsibility by draechaeli (E, 187k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Mainly Novel with a few CQL and Donghua bits, Everybody Lives, Original Children Characters, Adoption, Adoption but WWX birthed them all, Mpreg, Teen Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Male Lactation, Lactation Kink, Consensual Non-Consent, Light Bondage, Pregnant Sex, easy to skip nsfw chapters, Fix-It, Happy Ending)

🧡 the river brought you here by chilianxianzi (Not Rated, 11k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, POV Outsider, Amnesia, Past abuse, Strangulation, Found Family)

Trials of Time by Muggle_Diary (E, 32k, wangxian, major character death, underage, time travel, not jiang friendly, not YZY friendly, not JC friendly, butterfly effect)

To Sizhui by countingcr0ws (E, 21k, WangXian, Librarian LWJ, Mistaken Identity, Requited Love, Mental Link, Soul Bond, Genius WWX, Romance, Fluff, Banter, Epistolary, Love Poems, Footnotes, Smut, Laughter During Sex, Cultivation Sect Politics, Canon Divergence, Love Letters)

~*~

8. I'm looking for fics where A) YZY does sever WWX hand and things still go bad for YMJ (no cql characterization please, I don't like JC, so novel canon please) , B) Madam Lan lives (her best life and if the Wei couple is alive too - amazing), C) the two Nie Furen - any fics that talk or have any of them live, D) WWX (and maybe LWJ) raises a daughter or interacts with his grandchildren. Thank you! @secretartquotes

8A)

💖 Love made visible by Moominmammashandbag (M, JYL/ZZL, wangxian, hurt/Comfort, amputation, major character injury, sibling love, angst w happy ending, cooking as cultivation, attempted rape/non-con, sexual assault, minor character death, family angst, dysfunctional family, protective siblings, near drowning, amnesia)

8B)

in stillness, clear water to the bottom by Stratisphyre (T, 40k, CSSR/WCZ/LQR, LQR & Madam Lan, CSSR & LQR, LQR & WWX, Sect Leader Nie/NHS's Mother/NMJ's Mother, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Threesome - M/M/F, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Everyone lives, (mostly), (not you qingheng-jun), Family feelings, Madam Lan lives, references to past rape)

The Dreams of Youth by sami (E, 86k, wangxian, time travel, fix-it, family, not lan sect friendly, canon typical violence & gore, childhood friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, mothers who live, some people live/not everyone dies)

Sail Away Sweet Sister by sami (M, 73k, WangXian, YZY/CSSR/MDM Lan, MingLi, Time Travel, EXTREME Canon Divergence, Wide Focus Narrative, Some People Live/Not Everyone Dies, Most Named/Canon Characters Live, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Families of Choice, Parenthood, this work contains a major tonal shift, Fluff, Angst, Underage Sex, not particularly explicit, but not at all ambiguous, PTSD, Only a tiny bit, Unforeseeable consequences, The butterfly effect, Slightly Dark JYL, Asexual Characters, but that’s not really the focus, Canon-Typical Violence)

🧡 All will be well when the day is done by abCEE (T, 76k, WangXIan, Canon Divergence, Fix It, Not Jiang Family Friendly, JFM & YZY Bashing, Fix it for our main characters, Time Travel, Butterfly Effect, Madam Lan Lives, No Sunshot Campaign, Artistic License, Unreliable Narrator, JC Bashing, non-yunmeng WWX, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Good Uncle LQR, OOC, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WWX gets the love and care that he deserves from the very beginning, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiangs, verbal and physical (c/o Zidian) abuse from YZY)

💖 An Unexpected Visitor by Hauntcats (G, 8k, QHJ/Madam Lan, wangxian, fix-it of sorts, not Jiang friendly, not jin friendly, happy ending)

Every Mother’s Son by Chrononautical (T, 11k, WangXian, Madam Lán Lives, Madam Lán Deserves Better, Madam Lán Leaves Cloud Recesses, Madam Lan rescues women from abusive husbands in feudal Japan and honestly that’s so valid of her, mentions of rape/non-con between Madam Lan & Qingheng-Jun)

no step had trodden black by Stratisphyre (T, 32k, wangxian, LQR & WWX, JYL/JZX, canon divergence, madam lan lives, past rape, golden core reveal, hurt/Comfort, referenced to attempted suicide & suicidal thoughts, canon-typical violence)

8C)

Sunset, Sunrise by Ariana Deralte (ArianaDeralte) (T, 57k, WWX & WRH, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Crack, Temporary Character Death, sorry I killed a-Yuan for a few paragraphs before the time travel, WWX is a Wen, Genius WWX, WRH gets to rewatch the series as a treat, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, in this house we acknowledge that all the sects have flaws, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, WWX Has ADHD, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Autistic LWJ)

in stillness, clear water to the bottom by Stratisphyre (T, 40k, CSSR/WCZ/LQR, LQR & Madam Lan, CSSR & LQR, LQR & WWX, Sect Leader Nie/NHS's Mother/NMJ's Mother, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Threesome - M/M/F, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Everyone lives, (mostly), (not you qingheng-jun), Family feelings, Madam Lan lives, references to past rape) link in #8B

8D)

Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste (T, 36k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Adoption, Family Fluff, Kid fic, Family drama, Fluff, 🔒[PODFIC] Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste by lunatique)

🔒 Little Stars by Aki_no_hikari (G, 4k, WangXian, Family Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Canon Divergence, Yílíng Wèi Sect)

The Trouble With Politics: a Treatise on Jiang Sect Deputies Gone Rogue by Sect Leader Wei Wuxian by stiltonbasket (G, 56k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Yílíng Wèi Sect, or: the one where yu   zhenhong is a wild card, Smitten LWJ, Domestic Fluff, Politics, Happy Ending, Sect Leader WWX, Fix-It of Sorts, JZX still dies though)

Where the Lonely Ones Go by CSHfic & VSfic (T, 24k, WangXian, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Case Fic, Night Hunts Fluff, Established Relationship, Mystery, Married Life, Domestic Fluff, Haunting, Kid Fic, Post-Canon, gratuitous use of empathy)

❤️ Seen and not heard by eatmyass (E, 51k, wangxian, case fic, no sunshot, kid fic, dadxian, strangers to lovers, found family, LWJ pov, pining, fake/pretend relationship, first time, falling in love) Wei Wuxian hasn't yet adopted the children in Seen and not heard but this fic shows him protecting and teaching children.

in a river you wade by bleuett (M, 20k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Mpreg, Postpartum Depression, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Good Uncle LQR, Family Feels, Happy Ending, Kid Fic) In "in a river you wade," Lan Wangji gets pregnant with Wei Wuxian's child so we see Lan Wangji raising their daughter after Wei Wuxian's death.

~*~

9. Itmf / fic finder, idk which one to categorise it as hah-

So do we have any Hogwarts au of mdzs where wwx is ofcourse Harry, lqr is snape, Wei - sanren couple are james n lily, someone is voldy, lwj is maybe in Slytherin???? I want this fic or fics like this please! @constellationdks

How to save your school with your Best Friend by Lan_tiger (T, 30k, WangXian, XiYao, Harry Potter Setting, Modified Chamber of Secrets plot, Everyone Is Alive, Including canonically dead parents, Everyone has parents, Chinese magical school, Mostly comedy with some mystery, gryffindor! wwx, ravenclaw! lwj)

Grandmaster of the Magical Arts Series by HollowNightmare (T, 420k, WangXian, Harry Potter Setting, Chinese Hogwarts?, Slice of Life, Developing Friendships, POV Alternating, lwj is an anxious bean, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst) although Wei Wuxian is a Slytherin in this one.

~*~

10. itmf fics where the golden core reveal happens in front of everyone?

doesn’t necessarily have to be everyone but at least a group of people? thank you for your help!

A Child’s Wish by Hauntcats (Not rated, 13k, wangxian, WWX & Wen remnants, Celestial meddling, Not JC Friendly, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everyone gets what they deserve, Age Regression/De-Aging, Child LWJ)

Field Trips with Wei Wuxian by antebunny (G, 42k, WangXian, WQ & WWX, NMJ & WWX, JZX & WWX, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Found Family, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, protective Jiang siblings, Unreliable Narrator, due to WWX assuming ppl hate him, JYL is gonna dropkick her baby bro into having friends)

just because it’s what i am by kokozy (G, 4k, wangxian, Thirteen Years of WWX’s Death, Ghost WWX, Song: Inquiry, Truth comes to light, Revelations, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Angst, Sad with a Happy Ending)

seldom all they seem by Fahye (E, 25k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, or rather Arranged Betrothal, followed by Weapons-Grade Thirst)

The most dangerous thing is to love by KatAnni (E, 113k, WangXian, Golden Core Reveal, Fix-It, Everybody Lives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Hurt!WWX, Found Family, Implied/Referenced Torture, POV Multiple, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, Panic Attacks, PTSD, Golden Core Transfer, Golden Core Transfer Fix-it, Medical Procedures, Fainting, Major Character Injury, Blood and Injury, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Asexual JC, homophobia doesn’t exist here, Marriage Proposal, Marriage, Wedding Night, Whump)

~*~

11. For itmf- there has to be a wangxian wicked au right? It’s impossible that there isn’t

Grandmaster of Wicked Cultivation by ellienchanted, evilhobbitqueen, nx_for_short, planta_genista, westiec, zylaa (G, 6k, WangXian, Filk, musical theatre, wicked the musical, with apologies to Schwartz and Holzman, Sing along!, Canonical Character Death, Canon Temporary Character Death, Art, Podfic Available, Recording Available for Some Songs!)

No Good For The Wicked by drawifubmen (Not Rated, 2k, WIP, WangXian, Inspired by Wicked, Kinda, inspired by mdzs defying gravity animatic, wwx is a witch, they were roommates, Unreliable Narrator, POV Third Person Omniscient, Wizard of Oz References, Wizard of Oz Fusion, References to Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Star-crossed, Canonical Character Death, Canon Divergence) which is a WIP that recently began.

~*~

12. I've got an ITMF request, if you lovely people would be so kind. I've been reading and enjoying "all the lies on your resume" by someitems, and I was wondering if anyone has suggestions for other modern AUs where the golden core transfer is shown as chronic illness. It could be an actual golden core transfer (or partial transfer or golden core loss or whatever) in a modern with cultivation AU or an analogy for Golden Core transfer in a modern AU without magic, whatever. The important thing is that the loss of his golden core or equivalent leaves WWX with chronic illness of some kind (chronic fatigue, or chronic headaches, or needing to be careful about doing normal things so he doesn't get sick, or anything chronic illness can do). No Jiang Cheng or Jiang Yanli bashing please! Thank you mods and fic finder community! @flamingwell

silt, or scurvy series by astronicht (M, 11k, wangxian, modern w/ magic, chronic illness, Podfic: The Silt or Scurvy Series by raitala) the "silt, or scurvy" series by astronicht shows a couple of small moments in a modern wwx's life as he struggles post loss of core

~*~

13. Hello, itmf

I wonder if anyone wrote the scene where lan zhan says aloud to lan xichen or lan qiren that he is ashamed of them.

Thank you!

~*~

14. Hello again! I've been just wondering if anyone knows a fic where Wei Ying cultivates a womb? As apparently MXTX tweeted that it was possible for him? @lostandmessedup

Impermanence, Transience, Permanence by Best Bepsy (BepsyGray) (E, 39k, wangxian, canon divergence, unplanned pregnancy, mpreg, gore, sunshot campaign, assumed miscarriage, medical procedures, childbirth, golden core reveal) Wei Ying develops a spiritual womb through dual cultivation

~*~

15. itmf wangxian fics where wwx is not forced to reconcile with jc/ where jc is his book canon self @chellsky

Preparing the Soil by Rynne (T, 26k, WangXian, LQR & LWJ, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Family Issues, Family Conflict, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, Chinese Holidays, Chinese New Year, Birthdays, Good Kid LSZ, Meta Arguments, POV LWJ, Protective LWJ, Married WangXian, LWJ’s Birthday, LSZ’s Birthday, Soft WangXian, LWJ Has to Talk a Lot, Gusu Lan Sect Rules, Gusu Lan Sect, Letting Go of Resentment, The WWX Rule, Good Sibling LXC, Improving Uncle LQR, Grappling with the Lans’ Part in the Siege, learning to be better, Music, LWJ is a Composer, LWJ Is Good at Communicating Actually, Not JC Friendly)

These Barren Lands In Between by lingering_song (T, 4k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Married WangXian, POV Outsider, Misunderstandings, Cultivation Sect Politics, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Not JC Friendly, No JC & WWX Reconciliation)

🔒 all i take with me by justdoityoufucker (orphan_account) (T, 2k, JL & WWX, Post-Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, Canon JC Characteristics, Families of Choice, Night Hunts, Unhealthy Relationships, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Healing, no reconciliation, Non-Linear Narrative)

keeping score by hauntedotamatone (T, 6k, LSZ & WWX, Background WangXian, the opposite of reconciliation, Protective WWX, Duelling, Grief/Mourning, not for jc fans, Swordfighting, Resentment, LSZ centric, No JC & WWX Reconciliation)

also some of the chapters from Short Prompts by Vrishchika

peacemaker no more by thelastdboy (G, 6k, JYL & WWX, JC & JYL, JC & JYL & JFM & WWX & YZY, JC & WWX & JYL, JYL & Wen Remnants, JYL & WQ, WangXian, JYL & JZX, Modern, Jiang Family Dynamics, unspecified chronic illness, POV JYL, The Eldest Daughter Experience™, Homophobia, to be specific, JC's Canon Homophobia, Not JC Friendly, Wen Remnants Live, chosen family, No JC & WWX Reconciliation, Mental Health Issues, References to Depression)

~*~

16. hi im looking for fanfics in which wwx attends jl’s birthday ceremony (lmao i forgot how it was called but i hope everybody knows what i mean by it) with a-yuan. thanks!!

The Core Issue by Hauntcats (T, 21k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence)

💖 A Crying Shame by thunderwear (G, 16k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, A-yuan to the rescue, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Domestic Fluff, Love Confessions, First Kiss, LWJ joins WWX at burial mounds, LWJ is soft pass it on, literally all fluff, Marriage Proposal, Oblivious WWX)

Taking Responsibility by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 6k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Getting Together, Trope Subversion/Inversion, Pretend mpreg, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Fluff and Crack) I don't think it's overtly stated that the beginning of Taking Responsibility takes place during Jin Ling's celebration but it seems like it.

~*~

17. I’m in the mood for any fics with Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli having a strong friendship or bond. Thank you!

picking up the pieces by KouriArashi (M, 111k, JYL & LWJ, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Alternate Canon, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Regret, Family, Kid Fic, Families of Choice, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, canon typical political bullshit, Eventual Happy Ending)

💖 love on 35mm by fakeplasticlily (M, 26k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Swimming, film student LWJ, Pining, Mutual Pining, swimmer WWX, best friends LWJ and JYL, the inherent mortification of being in love with your best friend’s brother, or your older sibling’s best friend)

🔒 forever can never be long enough for me by isshun (T, 12k, WangXian, Modern, Established Relationship, Food as a Metaphor for Love, winter solstice festival, [bangs pots and pans] hello welcome to the loving wei wuxian support group, featuring co-presidents JYL and LWJ getting along and bonding over their love for WWX, JYL and LWJ getting along is my soul and jam, hurt/comfort)

My best friend's brother by mollymijh (E, 16k, WangXian, Mentions of XuanLi, mentions of xiyao, Modern AU, College/University, POV LWJ, Romance, Mutual Pining, Childhood Friends, Protective JYL, JYL and LWJ are best friends, Oblivious LWJ, Guilt, Mentions of drugging, Attempted Sexual Assault, Top LWH/Bottom WWX, Explicit Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, First Time, Dry Humping, Anal Sex, Unprotected Sex)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[iwillhaveamoonbase]

For those new to AO3

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[the-oblivious-writer]

After the Storm |2|

Tara Carpenter x Spider-Woman!Reader

Chapter two: Repeated Mistakes

Summary: Another time's a charm, right?

Warning(s): Swearing, Police!Sam, & spidey level violence

Notes: Not my gif! Writing for spider!reader is literally so fun

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“So if you need a hero, just look in the mirror...” You quietly sang between bites of the sandwich Tara packed for you. You were currently on a rooftop with your feet swinging off the edge and mask half up as you ate. 

You continued to hum along to the song that was playing in your head when you heard your phone ring. You turned it over to see Tara calling you.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“You need to come right now,” a loud crash could be heard in the background, “It’s Dr. Connors—shit!”

“Tara? Tara!” The phone cut out and before you knew what you were doing, you dropped everything and started swinging to Blackmore.

When you got there you could see The Lizard through one of the windows as he shredded the place to pieces. He was in the middle of clawing up the wall when you snuck up on him.

“Ugh, we have to stop meeting like this,” you leaned up against the wall on the opposite side, arms crossed.

“Spider-Woman…” The reptile snarled. 

“Dr. Connors! How've you been buddy? You know…since we squared up in the sewers?”

He didn’t respond verbally; he swung his large tail at you and you jumped up to the ceiling, dodging it. He didn’t relent, continuously attempting to grab and claw at you. You were able to land a few punches to his face but not before he lunged at you, landing the both of you in the college’s lab.

He now laid on top of you with one arm raised, ready to claw out your eyes. “Your breath is horrible by the way,” you remark before webbing his eyes, using that distraction to slip free.

You both wrestled with each other, causing an even greater mess. You were on his back, holding onto him by your webs as he tried to get you off. Suddenly, he rams his backside—you—into the wall and it feels like the wind just got knocked out of you.

He looks over to the filled beakers and combines its contents, throwing them at you as it explodes. It looks like it took you out but suddenly you emerge from behind him, putting him in a headlock.

“Why can’t you be a normal lizard,” you grunt as you do this.

He throws you to the ground, slamming his fist down with a great force. You quickly move your head before it could get squashed from the giant lizard's hand. You leap up, quickly dusting yourself off and your fight with The Lizard continues.

You’re able to get him out in the halls, trying to control his movement with your webbing. “Can’t we just talk this out? You’re not thinkin’ straight doc!” You shout as he tries to rip off your webbing. He takes another swing at you, and you leap up to the ceiling. 

You swung and crawled around the ceiling as he tried to forcefully tear you down. You grab a light but it falls, causing you to drop to the ground and Connors leaps at you but the light from before falls on his head.

By the time he’s up, you’re ahead of him, webbing his hand to the locker but unfortunately giving him a weapon as you see him ripping off the locker door you webbed him to, raising it in the air and ready to swing.

“Oh boy.”

You leap backwards with each swing he took then slid between his legs using a web. He turns around to see you squatting. 

“Alright so you don’t wanna talk?” As the reptile responded with a growl you cut him off by webbing his mouth. “There you go!”

 He ripped off the webbing and swung around his tail. You held onto it… What a mistake.

“Don’t–uff–make me–uff–have to–” you said as he swung the tail you clung on back and forth against the walls, “hurt you!” Suddenly you fly further down the halls, still holding onto the tail that has now separated from the reptile’s body.

“Ahh!” You screamed before harshly hitting the ground. “Ugh, disgusting,” you threw the tail off of you before leaping back up. The Lizard, who already had a freshly grown tail, was walking towards you with loud stomps. 

You webbed both sides of his shoulder, lunging forward at him but he quickly reacted by grabbing your head and slamming it into the window beside him. You were practically suffocating under his giant hand as you struggled to tear away from his grip.

You grunted when he suddenly dropped you and turned to face his left. You looked over to see Tara, raising a trophy that you assumed she hit Connors with.

“Tara,” he growled, stomping towards her as she backed away with each step he took.

The Lizard was about to attack Tara but you pulled his raised arm back with a web. You continued to web him up as you crawled around him, trapping him as a spider does with its prey. 

He struggled to break free from your web jail as you immediately went to Tara, taking the trophy from her hands and throwing it out the window, causing the glass to break. You pulled Tara close to you, hands on her hips as her hands held onto your shoulders.

Tara’s eyes shifted up and down your mask face before you finally spoke. “I’m gonna throw you out the window now.”

“What?!”

Before Tara could process what she just heard, you did as you said and threw her out the window. She shrieked and you shot out your web for Tara to hang by. Tara was still gasping in shock as she felt around the web that was now sticking to her waist. She swung back and forth as she was finally able to process being thrown out a window.

By the time The Lizard was finally able to break free, police sirens could be heard. You smirked behind your mask as you heard them, moving into your notorious Spider-Woman squat.  

“Uh oh…someone’s been a bad lizard,” you quipped in a teasing tone. 

Your fight quickly travels to the library but by the time you lift yourself up from the last blow, Connors is nowhere to be seen. You let out a sound of frustration as you looked around the destroyed room, no sign of where he could have gone.

—

“No,” Sam said with firmness in her voice as she and Tara washed and dried the dishes.

“Pleaseee?” Tara begged her sister. She was trying to convince Sam to let you come over for dinner but it was no use; Sam was never your biggest fan. The fact that you were a genuine kid with a high IQ didn’t matter at all to her. Tara knew Sam was being biased because of how you defended a certain masked vigilante. She’d be grounded for life if Sam ever found out Tara’s relationship to said vigilante. 

“No is my final answer.” Sam turned off the water, walking over to sit on the couch. Tara put down the rag and followed her sister.

“You just need to get to know her.”

“I know plenty.”

“It’s not fair Sam; you haven’t even given her a chance,” Tara’s voice ran hot with frustration. She let out an aggravated groan, stomping off to her room and slamming the door shut before Sam could stop her.

Sam sighed, rubbing her temples as Tara took out her phone and sent you a text.

wife to be (8:43 pm) you doing anything rn?

bug girl (8:43 pm) possibly getting ready to see you if I get a yes

wife to be (8:44 pm) See you in 10?

bug girl (8:44 pm) ofc<3

wife to be loved ‘ofc<3'

Just like you said, you were there in ten minutes. Tara heard a light knock on her bedroom window and turned over to see you giving her a dopey smile. She giggled before walking over to lift up the window. 

“Hey, bug girl,” she greeted before leaning in and giving you a kiss. You melt into the kiss as you both wrap your arms around each other. 

When you break apart, you look into her eyes with that same dopey smile. “Hey, gorgeous,” you replied before giving her another kiss. 

“Come on, it’s cold out. Let’s get you inside,” Tara said after the kiss, not waiting for a response as she pulled you inside by your sleeve. 

“You okay?” 

“Hm? Yeah—yeah of course. Why?”

“You just seem…off,” you answered, giving her your full attention.

“Just another fight with Sam,” Tara responded, waving you off as she sat down on her bed. Her head followed your movement as you walked over to sit beside her, gently placing a hand on hers.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” she answered honestly.

“Okay, we don’t have to,” you turn over and reach into your bag, grabbing something, “Guess what I got…”

Tara grinned as she saw you had something behind your back, “Is that what I think it is?”

“Depends,” you reveal what’s behind you, putting it to your chest for Tara to see, “how passionate are you about sour gushers?”

“Did I ever tell you how amazing you are?” 

“Are you talking to me or the gushers?”

Tara pretended not to hear you as she grabbed her laptop from the nightstand and opened it. “I’m in the mood for some horror,” she said as she took your arm and wrapped it around her. "Wow, guess I know my worth when gushers are involved."

A couple hours go by and you’ve fallen asleep on her shoulder. Tara looks at your resting face and smiles to herself, but her admiring is quickly interrupted by police sirens coming from outside. The sounds quickly wake you up. You look around as you become self aware of your surroundings.

You look out the window from where you sat, seeing the flickering lights as the police cars raced through the city’s streets. You give Tara a look that she has gotten enough times to know the meaning behind. 

She lightly nods at you, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek before saying, “Go get 'em, spidey.”

You grab your bag before jumping out the window, luckily wearing your suit under your clothes.

Tara sighed to herself as she stared out the window you just leaped out of. 

“What am I gonna do with you?”

—

A few hours later, you decided to revisit the sewers. You were determined to have your traps work this time. After some tweaking and adjusting, they were all set for a re-do. You refused to just sit back while The Lizard crawled the city’s sewers, endangering the city.

As you set up the last trigger, you heard a noise. It sounded like a low growl that only grew and grew with time. You hurriedly shot a web, now hanging from above.  You carefully, and quietly, watched as Dr. Connors rummaged through his belongings; it looked like he was looking for something.

You hung for a few more seconds until suddenly your spidey senses went off; you immediately swung down, dodging The Lizard’s mean claws when they swiped at you.

“Filthy pest,” the mutant growled with venom laced in his tone. When you finally got a good look at him, you could tell he was more far gone than the last you saw him.

“Damn, doc. You look like shit,” you said before he whipped his tail at you. You jumped up, quickly webbing his eyes and feet. While he was distracted by the webbing, you took that as an opportunity to lure him closer to your traps.

You thought back to your crawler trap you performed at the school, thinking it could work again. You crawled around the lizard, webbing him up as she struggled and swung his claws and arms. You could see it. He was about to take one more step and your plan would have worked.

Suddenly, your spidey senses went off. You looked to your right to see him crashing into a pipe. You were able to move before it fell onto you but when you looked back to The Lizard, he had broken free.

The reptile growled before running at you with full force. Instead of moving, you stayed there until you jumped at the last minute; he crashed into the wall, letting out a loud and frustrated growl.

He quickly picked himself up, ripping a pipe off of the wall. That’s when you realized. He had cornered you. This whole time you thought you were setting a trap for him, but alas he’s done it for you. 

Your senses were going off but you had nowhere to go. There wasn’t even enough room to crawl upward. Before you could even think of where to escape, you felt the metal pipe The Lizard harshly swung at you. It made contact with your ribcage, causing your breathing to grow slightly heavy. 

Surely The Lizard knew a metal pipe wasn’t enough to keep Spider-Woman down?

Suddenly, he threw it to the ground. He picked you up then harshly threw you back down, and you were now doubled over with your backside showcased to him. He balled up his fisted then slammed them down on your back, causing you to let out a loud gasp as you felt the air being sucked out of you.

It all made sense; he was just warming you up with the pipe.

He turned you over and slowly dragged his claws across his chest as they grew in size. You groaned in pain as you tried to push his big hands away but he only pushed his claws in deeper. “There is no stopping me. I’m getting stronger everyday!”

He tightly gripped your throat as he raised you up, slamming your head harshly against the wall. You gasped for air as you felt tight pressure surrounding your throat. “There’s no stopping…what you too will soon become,” The Lizard snarled before throwing you to the ground.

You weakly lift yourself up by your arms, now on your knees and coughing. You were hardly catching your breath when your senses went off again. 

You were too weak to react when it happened. When his large hands slammed on both sides of your head. The ringing in your ears being so loud you couldn’t hear your own screams. You couldn’t hear…anything. 

You were helplessly laying in pain when The Lizard made his escape. When you couldn't hear his loud stomps, or even the dripping water; you knew you were screwed.

You were scared and alone.

-----------

A/N: I swear I'm gonna make up for the lack of Tara and R scenes in this chapter with a one-shot/drabble for this story

[peggyao3]

Relic - Pt. 10 "Fettered Flesh"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧

A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: 18+, smut, she/her AFAB FMC, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, Frank Herbert would frown, some politics, implied/referenced (child) abuse❗, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts❗, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, implied/referenced cannibalism❗, Murder, Female rage, Teaching the Universe about Feminism, Angst with a Happy Ending

WORD COUNT: 5k

A/N: HELLO PRECIOUS PEOPLE 💕 Shit hits the Giedi Prime fan, so get out your umbrellas!! I feel like with every chapter I'm getting more excited 🥹 And everyone who has left a comment is to blame 😭 I appreciate it so greatly 😭 I've recently started an internship thingy (in a manner of baby's first real job experience lmao), so I have a bit less time to write, but chapter 11 and 12 are finished already, so I do have a bit of food in stock 💪

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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Day 5

Jealousy is a beast, but loneliness is a monster.

Jealousy ignites with fiery tendrils but loneliness drowns you slowly until you're staring up from the bottom of the pitch black sea, yearning for the light.

All day she's been mulling over the three woman-creatures, Feyd's "pets". What is it that infuriates her the most? The physical violence? The fear of what they might have done to her - Death, torture or worse? Their derogatory status? Their beastliness grafted into female bodies, paired with the fact that Feyd has been bedding them at some point?

Without thinking about it, and perhaps it is tactless, she has been pouring her heart out to Lilia while the attentive handmaid is treating her scabbed injuries from last night. Now it is evident that wound management is a well-needed skill around the Harkonnen palace. The sarcophagus is safely folded up and her new weapon is tucked into one of the compartments.

"Am I overreacting?!" She asks, even though - hell no - she knows she isn't, but a part of her soul yearns for human connection, affirmation, camaraderie, friendship. It feels so good to be talking to someone who is not the man she thought she knew or the belittling Bene Gesserit sisters.

"Hmm," Lilia begins tentatively and the glowglobe light brings out the unusual color of her eyes as she tilts her head, so amber that they almost appear golden. "While I'll say it's never been common for the na-Baron to practice monogamy… I'll also say that I'd be quite furious at my husband if he had three women on the side." Her voice quivers upon women, as if it repels her to describe the three beings as such. The spider in the Baron's throne room may be the most harmless monster to roam these halls.

The engineer's questions chip away and it becomes perfectly clear that it's the jealousy that cuts the deepest, even with her superficial wounds cared for, a blade is wedged inside her guts that will keep on cutting.

"And do these 'pets' have handmaids too?" A self-destructive question to determine where her own status truly lies. What's a bride but another pet to him?

"They used to have handmaids…" Lilia hesitates. "But they always ended up eating them. I'm glad to be assigned to you, my Lady."

Great. There she has another horror to add to the menagerie.

Lilia continues: "If it calms you, I doubt there will be any further incidences with them. The na-Baron has been in an, uhm, unstable mood since last night." The maid's posture turns rigid. She shouldn't be speaking about the na-Baron like that, but the Earth woman's emotions are contagious. Lilia will get herself killed if she's not careful. She's been telling that to herself since she was a little girl.

"Unstable, uh-huh, well so am I."

The Harkonnen woman nods and decides it is best not to elaborate on what it means when Feyd-Rautha is having the worst day of his life.

Vladimir Harkonnen chuckles with delight at his nephew's distress and the infantile killing spree that has been painting the halls black since last night.

It took even less time than he expected, for the new woman to be disgusted by his poor nephew and he cannot hold it against her. Feyd-Rautha is a raging child in an unfortunately manly body. 

The Baron is well-entertained by the hollow screams that blare down the hallways. First the three harpies. A shame, they had helped keep Feyd settled so nicely and they hadn't been cheap either. It's also a shame that the Bene Tleilax don't offer bulk discount, considering the number of Gholas the Baron saw himself forced to commission for the little game his nephew and he have been playing.

Next on Feyd's blade was the guard at his little witch's door, then anyone who crossed his path in the night, all the while Feyd was chafing with desire to be cut and hurt. But no one outside of the ring is allowed to raise their blades against the Baron's heir apparent, unless instructed by the Harkonnen sovereign himself.

Some fire has returned to his nephew since the woman's arrival and he appreciates that, yes, he does, but he will keep a sharp eye on the two of them. He has no doubt that she's a Bene Gesserit agent who has implanted phantasms in Feyd-Rautha's mind, but Vladimir is willing to play the sisterhood's game, for his nephew's sake, even though he had sworn to never let a witch enter his fortress again. 

Not since Lady Margot Fenring had tried to steal his lovely boy's precious seed. Luckily, Feyd's blade had worked quicker than the thief's vocal chords.

But Valdimir is willing to adapt. The boy had been boring him to death for the past two years and he used to be so entertaining and feisty!

In the evening hours after a night and day of bloodshed, Feyd still has stamina (a trait the Baron cherishes so dearly about his nephew) and comes barging into the guarded dining room, bringing with him the cloying scent of blood that sticks to the tacky soles of his boots. He wears the clothes of yesterday and blood lust in his eyes.

Careful now.

Vladimir gives no sign to the guards, chews without haste and takes a noisy gulp of wine, making sure a bead rolls down the folds of his massive neck. The muscle at his nephew's jaw twitches and his fingers strangulate the blood-slick handle of his blade.

The eight arm-legged arachnid creature shivers in its basket under the table, eager to get to Feyd, partly because his boots smell yummy, but it doesn't dare move away from the Baron's feed. Smart thing.

"Don't look at me like that. It's not my fault that she doesn't like you, boy."

Feyd halts as if struck by one of the bolts of infrared lightning that cook the atmosphere during the summer months. Tension strains his neck, a bull ready to charge at his Matador and for a second the Baron thinks he'll have to switch on his shield ring. But his nephew turns and barges off with bouncing, stomping steps, draining his stamina and wetting his knives on everything that breathes, when the only one he really wants to kill sits fat and mighty on his throne. 

It's almost cute, Vladimir thinks. The boy could kill him so easily now, if he really put his cunning, little mind to it. He's strong enough, smart enough, but his spirit - that's the crux. Feyd's spirit is broken and riddled with fear of the punishments. The last time he tried was at 17 and then never again.

Ah-h-h, yes, the Baron has conditioned him well and he considers it his retirement plan. Age hasn't left the Harkonnen sovereign unscathed and while his mind may still be sharp (or else how would he have come up with such a genius plan!), his morbidly obese body fully relies on the protection of his shield ring, guards, lung machine and poison snoopers. But as long as the boy still fears him, the deadliest threat within these halls remains on a pretty, silver leash.

The fire of jealousy has dwindled down and now all she does is miss him, sitting lonely in her room, lonely on this planet, lonely in the universe with only inanimate objects and the virtual messages and images of dead people to keep her company. None of this can ever compare to the warm hands of her beloved and his smile, the roundness of his cheeks and his painted teeth. She misses the way his eyes used to crinkle just for her. He had made her believe that only she could make him smile and offer a sliver of peace to his soul.

It's been two years since their last dream. Why wouldn't he have taken other women?

He said he "hasn't touched them". Since when? Since he learned she's alive? Since their first dreams? Ever?

She regrets now that she denied him when he knocked on her door an hour ago. The bitter guilt of disgracing oneself crawls over her when she slowly moves towards the door, but her self-respect has cauterized and become cinders along with her fury. Feeling sick to her stomach, she places her hand on the panel and the heavy door slides open.

Finding herself face to back with a guard in bulky plate armor, she halts. She wouldn't know where exactly to find Feyd's room anyway. The man turns on his heels and salutes briskly before returning his hand to the hilt of his saber.

"Good evening. Ah, wait, are you… New?" She blurts out, not meaning to seem disrespectful. The Harkonnens often do look quite alike to her, but she could have sworn the old guard was a little shorter.

"Yes, my Lady." The man looks right above the crown of her head, avoiding her eyes.

"What happened to the other guard?"

"He was replaced, my Lady."

That does make sense and she's almost a little relieved. She wouldn't want anyone who'd let these bloodthirsty creatures inside to guard her and her most valuable possession. However, she still hopes this incident won't ruin his chances of employment indefinitely.

"I see." She glances cautiously down the austere corridor. Past the windows, there is only blackness and the occasional faraway rumble from the factories. "Do you have to stand here all night? Your feet must be hurting. What about a chair?"

"I'm not allowed such luxuries."

"Says who? You can't excel at your job while being overworked and your feet are aching in those boots." 

The man wonders if the na-Baron's Lady wishes to insult or test him. "I am at full capacity, my Lady!" He salutes again. "I have no complaints about my boots."

"Fine, alright. Could you please point me the way to Feyd's room then? I want to see him. No need to accompany me, I'm sure I'll find it, just make sure no one enters my room, please?"

"Sorry!" The man extends his arm to the side, stopping her advance around him without laying a finger on the Lady. "The na-Baron has ordered this door to be sealed unless he or your handmaid demand entrance."

"Well I don't demand entrance, I want to exit. I want to see Feyd."

The guard grows queasy. That scenario was not included in his instructions. To be fair, the briefing for his new position can be considered rudimental at best but he didn't complain. Up here has been the safest spot in the palace tonight. "The na-Baron doesn't welcome visitors in his private quarters."

"But I'm his…" She swallows uncomfortably. "Betrothed, or am I not?"

"You are, my Lady."

"So, couldn't you perhaps call him?"

The poor guard's expression says 'I'd rather not'. The na-Baron has only just settled, finally, and even the dumbest desert rat knows not to wake a sleeping tiger. All evening long he's been wondering how many of his comrades will be dead come the morning and he doesn't want to be the next one to become fodder for the slaves' food rations. "I'm sorry, my Lady. It is against the protocol to disturb the na-Baron at night unless there is an emergency. Is there an emergency?"

"No…" The woman's expression twists into defeat and she pads backwards with slackened shoulders and somber eyes. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

The door slides shut and she is too sad to even be angry about her gentle imprisonment. There's nothing out there for her anyway, except for Feyd, and if he doesn't want to see her…

Self-destructive thoughts sprout from the cinders in her chest and grow into the wildest phantasms. The guard was too kind to tell her Feyd has visitors in his room. Perhaps he explicitly decreed that she is not to join him.

To prevent herself from hurtling into a bottomless spiral, she must find a distraction. Nearly choking on bitter tears, she opens up the virtual app drawer that she's most familiar with and selects the 3d-modeling tool. A nice, little task to keep her thoughts from straying is exactly what she needs, and so she settles down on the bed and begins to design a practical, foldable, printable chair for her guard, thoughtfully optimizing stability and the required resources.

The engineer doesn't notice when her tears dry, but they do.

Day 6

She sleeps awfully that night, despite the chip's helpful sleeping program consisting of gentle rain and soothing frequencies. It can't have been much longer than two hours when she is awoken by a knock on the door, followed by another, more insistent one a moment later.

The 3d-modeling interface still overlays reality when her eyes snap open and her sluggish brain activity requires a moment to shut it down. She was almost finished with the printable chair parts last night, but she must have dozed off eventually. 

The knocking persists and she calls: "Lilia?"

A pause. "It's me." An unmistakable, deep and raspy voice comes muffled from the other side. Feyd-Rautha, freshly showered and dressed in a clean, casual suit, leans his forehead against the cool, thick plastic, breathing hard and fast so that his respiration condenses on the door. Waiting, he pleads silently for mercy. He cannot do this anymore, doesn't want to kill anymore just to feel something other than fear.

She freezes, legs half swung off the mattress as anxiety twists her belly. All of her jealousy comes crashing back and a little demon whispers poison in her ear: Go back to your hyenas and toy around with them, not me!

When silence is the answer to Feyd's timid greeting, his stomach drops as if filled with lead. Blood pounds in his ears like the war drums on his birthdays and his breath becomes shallow, so that he no longer even hears the guard's antsy shuffling. What will he do if she never forgives him? 

A harrowing need for violence flashes through him cold and dark and his twitching hand jerks for the blade at his hip but the door rushes open before he can brandish it and his woman faces him with crossed arms, her face puffy from sleep but her eyes are wide and vulnerable.

She beckons him to enter and he follows, eyes racing to the crowns of thorns in the vase, the sarcophagus, the ruffled bed, everything the way it was. How does she deal with pain?!

"Hello," Feyd mumbles, voice reduced to a tiny, grated whisper.

"Hello."

"Can we… talk?"

The relic nods and waits, clammy fingers clutching her sleeves. But then Feyd says… nothing. His eyes are focused on an imaginary point somewhere behind her navel and his jaws strain as if chewing a brick.

So, she begins: "I'm sorry, but I was very upset." She paces, shoulders drawn up. "I know that customs are different around here, I mean, they obviously are," she guffaws quietly and shakes her head. "But where I'm from, it requires consent to have more than one partner and I never gave you that consent. I've never given my consent to anything that's happened to me since I woke up! And then I found out you're alive and I can be with you and I really believed everything would finally be better, but you-" Her voice hiccups. "I'm very upset, okay?" Her lips twist and she lifts a hand to her mouth, sobbing quietly into her palm. "You're so different in real life."

Feyd's frozen limbs regain their agility and he jumps to her side as she tries to turn away, a swift predator despite his anguish. He clutches her by the arms. "Wait! Remind me. H-How was I in our dreams?" 

"I- I don't know, you looked happy." Her arms burn where he's holding onto her with his broad palms and long fingers. "And you were kind."

"Have I not been kind to you?"

"To me, yes. But being kind only to me is not enough." She shakes her head bitterly.

"What do you want me to do?" 

"Be honest with me. Who are these three?! They said you don't play with them anymore like you used to, and they hurt me, Feyd!" She writhes out of his clenched fists and he lets her because when her fingers skim his wrists, all his muscles go weak. She yanks up her shirt, showing off the healing gash on her waist.

Feyd wants to kill his darlings all over again and his sinful mouth twists into anger. "They used to be my pets. Pleasure slaves, if you will. Just some meaningless toys, nothing more, I swear it to you."

"Pleasure slaves!" She blurts out, shaking her head. At least he's being honest but - what the fuck?! "You-" Stumbling over her own words, she backs away from him with disgust. "Who are you? Who the fuck are you?"

More violence waits on her tongue. Does he respect anyone other than himself?

"You know me! You know who I am, where are you going?!" Doesn't she know she knows more about him than anyone else?

"I don't know shit about you!" She yells. "Where were you last night?"

"What?" All color is drained from his face. How could she know?

"Were you with them because I couldn't perform the way you wanted the other day?"

"What are you talking about?!" Feyd tries to grasp her by the arms once more but she twists away. If anything, he is at blame for being unable to make his woman comfortable enough to reach her release. What a pitiful good-for-nothing he is, pathetic down to the last, rotting cell. "I haven't touched my pets since I met you and that's the truth!"

"Oh, yeah? Then why was I not allowed to see you at night?" 

"What makes you say that?" 

"I tried to come to you last night, but the guard at my door said I'm supposed to stay in this room! So, were you with them?!"

Feyd stops his advance and an incredulous shimmer glazes over his blinking eyes. He could have held her last night, against his hurting heart. A dizzying lightness befalls his chest and sorrow becomes anger and anger wings his footsteps when he turns to the door, grinning, then giggling. Feyd slams his veined hand against the panel so hard, the screen cracks and inky blood slips down the valleys of his palm.

"Feyd? Feyd! What are you-"

The baffled guard faces the snickering na-Baron behind the opening door, last night's tiger resurrected like a Ghola for one last kill. A stammered 'my Lord' on diddering lips. Feyd-Rautha looks as bestial as his hyenas with prowling steps and rolling shoulders, searing eyes locked on his unmoving prey.

"You told my woman she couldn't see me last night? S'that right?" A slip of pink peeks out of the ghastly frame of black, gnashing teeth.

"My Lord, I beg your mercy, I didn't wish to distur-"

Metal flashes. The relic screams as the length of Feyd-Rautha's blade carves into the guard's pallid neck, Adam's apple bulging and sitting on the knife like a popped, black cherry. Blood sputters around Feyd's clenched fingers and laughter has faded from his lungs at once. He digs deeper as the guard draws in gurgling breaths, bubbles of air swimming in the blood around the metal.

The relic freezes like a mouse, glued to the spot as if she might turn invisible to the cold eyes of the beast who wears her lover's clothes. He looks nothing like Feyd-Rautha now, his features empty and alien with eyes that don't feel and hands unfazed by the death that stains them in thick, inky streams that roll down his victim's neck. 

This is how the universe sees him.

Feyd's blade slashes sideways, spraying a half moon of blood across the corridor and when the guard stumbles, he falls back into the na-Baron's knife, adding a vertical gash to the horizontal one, tip sinking into the flesh under his jaws, and with a jerk - up into his tongue.

The man grunts, still clinging to his life by a thread, and lurches forwards without drawing his sword. His head falls on Feyd-Rautha's shoulder. Feet shuffle in a grotesque waltz and Feyd's bloody fingers slip around the taller man's neck, holding him there while his blade plunges into his belly between armor plates so deftly, he could find all the weak spots blindfolded. The body slackens, weighing down on Feyd-Rautha whose ichor dripping fingers aren't ready to let go.

Shuk! Shuk! 

Is the sound of his blade sinking into soft flesh and viscera, whipping back out with a spray of blood and entrails.

The Bene Gesserit may have proclaimed her human, but the adrenaline that sets her nerves ablaze is a gift from her ancestors, animals, because that's what humans are at the end or the day when facing a bigger predator.

Fwump.

Feyd looks her way, the dead body dropped, and blood covers his hand like a shiny glove of ink, dripping down the blade tip in a drizzling stream. The light catches on the sharp edges of his alabaster skull and all she sees is a new, terrifying breed of human, birthed by a world of poison and decay. There are millennia between them. They may share the same DNA but that doesn't mean he is not an alien to her. 

In the end, the man from her dreams is not the man of her dreams.

Out the door? - Blocked! Death!

Off the balcony?! - Death!

To the Sarcophagus then. To her gun.

She turns and sprints, feet skidding over the shards of her rose-colored glasses, but Feyd pounces, a beast hungry for carnage, and catches her around the waist, hurling her backwards with the strength of three men. His blade clatters to the ground.

"No, wait. No. NO! NO! You can't go," he howls. "You cannot leave me!"

Wailing, she thrashes in his grasp and slams her elbow into his guts, her foot against his shin, then his crotch and the soft flesh there is squashed by her heel. When his hold slackens, she twists away and bolts, bare toes slipping across icy marble, but blood-smeared fingers find her shoulder, tearing on the fabric. She throws herself away from him so hard, the seam starts coming apart, so his other hand flies to her throat, steel-hard fingers curling around clammy flesh, yanking her around and against the wall.

She can't be looking at him like that, like he's the devil. Like he looks at his uncle.

Desperately, his lips search for hers but she jerks her head to the side, bites, scratches, nails burrowing into his throat. No is the word that Feyd-Rautha raps out between violent kisses that seek her pulse point with his tongue and teeth, no, she can't ever leave him, no, not ever, even if she hates him like everyone else. Her fear poisons the sweat on her neck and her nails don't egg him on, they hurt. He takes a knee to the guts and his lungs pop open for a harrowed cry.

Pain used to be pleasure but everything hurts, she doesn't love him anymore. One more meek and quiet final 'no' as he abandons the assault on her neck and his slackened arms wrap around her middle, hiding his face from rejection in her shoulder's soft flesh. Tears drip hotly, finally. All day and all night he's been waiting for the cathartic downpour, but not even the most pitiful plea could rouse a sliver of empathy in the hollow of his chest. Now he bawls like a baby forgotten in its crib and his blood-soaked hands seek purchase at the back of her shirt.

The woman grows still, nails still wedged inside the bloody crescent indents in his neck. Her lungs ache when she draws a trembling breath and Feyd-Rautha's hard, heavy chest moves with her, no more fight left in him. Quietly, she cries with him and curls her arms around his round shoulders, holding him there as he clings to her like an abandoned child and sheds tears for all the hurt and all the fear.

The man of her dreams is still there, somewhere, under the alien shell, vulnerable, weeping.

"You hate me, don't you?" A broken sob.

Looking over his head, the dead guard's viscera glitters darkly on the hallway and she is surprised to realize that even now, she doesn't hate him.

Feyd continues: "This is why I never wanted you to know who I am. I am awful."

"You're not awful," she whispers, fingers slipping around the back of his head, nails rimmed darkly by Feyd's blood.

"I have to be awful. I was born to be awful." 

"That's not true…" He was groomed to be awful.

But Feyd isn't finished. In a fashion of now or never, confessions spill out of him like poison rain. "I killed my mother when I was four. I don't remember why. I killed my pets. I kill men for sport. I kill people for fun. I kill because it's the only thing I can do. Yesterday, I-" His voice breaks. "I killed anyone I could find and no one fought back. I lo-o-ost count."

A full glass can't get any fuller when pouring more water, so shock and disgust are lost to the acceptance that has smoothed over the crescendo. They're just information to be added into a folder in her head. Feyd killed his mother. Feyd kills people for fun. Still, she holds him, fingers sliding up and down the back of his head as his shaky sobbing turns breathless and ugly.

"Okay," she whispers and rests her cheek on his head, exhaling softly so her warm breath fans his scalp. "For fun?"

"Ye-e-es."

"So, you had fun last night when you-" She swallows. "Killed?"

"No."

She lets out a thoughtful hum and Feyd's grip on the small of her back tightens. Still, he doesn't dare look at her and tears and snot have soaked her shirt. With her emotions currently defective, her ability for logic is still sharp, and so she concludes, it does all make sense.

Her poor Feyd, a current had pulled him under when he was barely a child and then layer after layer, he has been building his armor so as not to drown in the maelstrom of abuse. With every kill, a little boy has been screaming for help in an empty room.

Soft lips press a kiss to the crown of his head and Feyd's breath trembles in her hold, a beast tamed by a loving caress. That's all it takes.

Just because she understands his actions, doesn't mean she endorses them.

"Will you still be my wife?"

"I haven't decided yet." Another kiss so gentle, it taunts the corpses stacked up in the processing hall.

"So, we're no longer engaged?" 

"I don't think we ever were, not to me. But that doesn't mean I don't love you."

Dizzily, Feyd-Rautha raises himself. If not for the fingers twisted into his woman's shirt, he might just topple back into the spinning vortex at whose edge he is teetering now, one foot in heartbreak, the other in salvation. Blue eyes crack open, rimmed with dark blood vessels. She doesn't flinch, doesn't bolt, only her hands slide to the front of his suit and slip under the lapels, thumb rubbing where his heart hammers.

Feyd sees the tracks of dried tears on her cheeks and the shadow of horror tucked away in the corners of her eyes in a way that is all too familiar to him. More than anything, he wants to delete the images from her head and close the door, kick the blade under the bed, pretend it never happened. He tried to do everything right, got her flowers, hid her away in her own room away from state matters, made love to her with all his heart, but at the end of the day he is still who he is when he can't hide within a dream and it'll never be enough.

"Feyd, is… Is Lilia okay?"

"Yes, she is," comes the earnest reply and she exhales shakily, head sinking against Feyd's chest, arms sliding around his waist beneath the suit where his skin is burning hot.

"Thank God." Her voice warbles, the only warning before her knees give out and every other muscle along with them. The pair sink to the cold, hard ground.  "I just want to go home," she sobs and crawls in her beloved's lap which is still the only place in the cold, hard universe that soothes her soul.

Not her sarcophagus, although it is tempting to freeze herself up again and sleep forever. No, it is still him. A new home, not what she had imagined, but a home.

"Me too," Feyd sighs and squishes his cheek against the top of her head, closing his eyes to envision the bedroom of their shared dream, blue pillows, a white bed, a softly rustling fern in a terracotta pot, her in his arms. Home.

How easy it would be to demand of him: 'If you kill one more innocent, I will leave you!' But she might just kill more than she saves that way, and maybe him too, and maybe herself.

"Feyd, can you-" She sniffles. "If you get angry again, please never hurt Lilia. And whoever the new guard will be, don’t hurt him either. Can you do that for me please?"

"I promise." He squeezes her tight, eyes screwed up so tightly that he sees only dizzying stars. "I love you. I'm sorry."

She cannot fix the whole world, but she can start where she can see. It's not a solution, but a sapling, and a sapling can grow.

Mother Father How did I end up here, stone bound? All I feel ist the striking distance to the clouds My flesh is fettered on the skin of the soil But even so I almost reach the sparks in the void Sailing through the vacuum, am I drowned or alive?

- Cepheus by Fewjar

A/N: Okay, I promise promise this was the angstiest chapter, we're climbing uphill from here!! 🥺🥺🥺 Hand over your guesses, what do you think will happen from here? 😌💕 Thank you so much for all of your time!

TAG LIST:

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted

[simpcityy]

I'm Not Her Pt.5 (Father Miguel O’Hara x Teen! Daughter Reader)

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is your biological father but it’s not great being his daughter when he’s hooked in the past still.

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or any of its characters. This short One-Shot has made it into a series! Read part one, two, three and four please to understand the prompt better. (Linked Below) This chapter is full on Miguel's POV.

Word Count: 300 words

Warnings: Use of female pronouns, Use of (Y/N), angst, Father Miguel, overall, it’s just sad for now. Other dimensional Miguel…mention of blood, stabbing, knife, cursing, maybe consider yandere behavior from other dimensional Miguel and Miguel's POV/version of the story??...Uhhh I think that is all for now.

I know it's short, very short but It's better than not being able to read another chapter for a long time.

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6

Miguel's Version?? POV-ish? (I know there is term, but my head is fried from college classes) Also Scenes with Jess and Peter. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pain, that was all he felt when his eyes open. He looked around his surroundings noticing he was on a pile of trash bags. Letting out a grunt, Miguel looks down at his abdomen seeing the bleeding, "Lyla?" He calls out before looking at his arm, his watch missing " Puta Madre" He whispers and looks around before getting out of the dumpster. He leans up against the wall and recollects his thoughts out loud. "Okay, Other me too my life...stabbed me with the intentions of killing me...shut Lyla off...(Y/N) ...(Y/N)!" He finally took note of his daughter's life, you were in danger seeing the crazy look on that other dimensional self. "No no no..." He repeats before swinging up to the roof top to avoid being spotted. Reaching the rooftop, he punches the wall, " What to do Miguel!" He yells at himself feeling lost. He slowly slides down the wall and puts his hand over his wound, his healing function slowly working on the wound, but it still hurts. Many emotions were running through his mind, hurt, anger and mostly, disappointment. He was disappointed in himself for every leaving someone who was his flesh and blood. What went wrong? He thinks back to the time where he left his dimension to be with Gabriella, the day of your birthday. He knew it was wrong but, something pulled him to that dimension before destroying it. He looks at his hands where Gabriella was taken from him. Slowly, the image of her was replaced with you. "No!" He gets up determined, he wasn't going to lose you next.

Miguel walked down the streets of this earth he was stuck in, after knocking a drunken man who was harassing a young lady. Which he was gifted a 50 dollar from the young woman for helping her. He used it to buy clothing to fit in and draw less attention. He was on edge in case this earth had another Miguel which he would happily keep his distance after experiencing the variant who dumped him here. He stops at the Alchemax building and walks past a couple of workers who were busy chatting, taking the opportunity to sneak his hand in their lab coat pocket, taking their ID card. He walks through the thick doors, sliding the card accessing him to the lab. Taking the nearest empty Lab, he got to work on making a prototype watch to take him home. He doesn't care if it was going to take weeks, he will get his life back but most importantly, get you back before he loses you for good.

Back at the Spider Society, Peter walked down the hall into Miguel's office with Jess. " Empty...this is the second day he hasn't shown and not responding our text?" Peter looks around the office, for any clues where his boss might be. Jess walks over " You know what's stranger...no Lyla or (Y/N) either..." The woman stands next to him looking at the monitors trying to find Miguel's location without his approval before smiling " Ah, it shows he's back home with (Y/N), maybe he took your advice Peter." He looks at the location, your dot and "Miguels" together. " Miguel? Taking my advice? I doubt it but hey miracles happen sometimes" Peter shrugs before looking at the dots " Maybe he finally took note and appreciate what he has now and not what he lost in the past?" The tired man smiles softly, " I can't wait to tease him for taking my so-called terrible advice, I'm a great mentor after all!" He grins before seeing warning signs on the computer. " Hey Jess...what's with that?" He backs away from the computer quickly " I swear I did not touch a button!" Jess quickly types away, " Seems trying to hack us? No... trying to reprogram..." She goes to stop whatever is going on before Lyla's voice can be heard. " N-no Stop!" Her voice glitches out. The woman pulls her hands away from the computer. Lyla was finally rebooted and appears in front of them. " We have a big emergency!" Both adults look at each other before nodding looking back at Lyla, " Tell us what to do."

Miguel growls breaking the 5th watch as it failed. " Maldita Sea! " He pulls on his hair in frustration, he grips the table quickly as he glitches, time was wasting for him. For your life and his. He walks over to the bench to grab more materials before looking back seeing a portal open. " For once, I am happy to see you." Miguel mutters seeing Peter stand there smiling " Need help buddy? As a dad myself, let's go save your kid."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors Note: I'M BACK...for now... but THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! So much love this series are getting. Thank you so much for the support. Make sure to like and reblog so others can be aware of my works! Anyway, thank you so much for the support! Sorry for any grammar errors. Remember to stay hydrated and to keep on simping! (Simp City Population: 364 *WOW!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH*)

Spanish Translation: 1. Puta Madre - Soo...it has a lot of meaning like holy shit, no fucking way or motherfucker...just know it's not a very nice word and I grew up with Mexican uncles who say it a lot. 2. maldita Sea - fucking dammit.

Taglist: @perfectprofessorloverapricot @otaku-degenarate @strbyallycow @zeyzeys-stuff @moonshine147 @dhadiirah @ghibliwatcher @certified-kaeya-kinnie @luvsvnlqt-things @lunamhm565i @sangdium45 @lazyotakuofficial @ihateuguys @pinkeroppi @lady-necromancer @ayanokomu @coralineyouareinterribledanger @idcalol @punnylilac @ace-spades-1 @marxo5 @reiko69 @itadorismedicalstudent @bontensbabygirl @Simpthe3rd @fluffyart5000 @blkmystery @ariparri @i-d-k-f-r @champomiel @oooof-ifellforyou @jannajuju @staple-your-mouth @atanukileaf @namtaeh @estella-satn @darlin-collins @acebalikkanaplease @luvers-checks @arrozyfrijoles23 @sigynxlokiwifelover @millerworld @perilous-pasta @tired-writer04 @marit332 @kiyomi-uchiha777

I know some names don't get tagged, I don't know why. If spelled it incorrectly, let me know, I have terrible eyesight. Please comment below to be added to or removed from the taglist! Thank you!

[erinwantstowrite]

WIP Game

Rules: You will be given a word. Share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

Tagged by @cerealboxlore

My Word: Marvel

I decided to use chapter 16 of LoF for this because I've been working on it today teehee

M- "Maybe because it was because Peter was introducing Loki and Dick for the first time, and he remembered what the Bats thought about the God."

A- "Also, it would make Thor sad, so I’d ask that you not kill Loki. Because you totally could, I believe you.”

R- Resurrection?

V (I don't have a V sentence 😔💔)

E- "Everyone needs backup at some point, fighting alone doesn’t help anyone. But especially someone Peter’s age. He’s done a great job at taking care of himself and this situation, but that doesn’t mean he has to. We’re more than happy to take some of the burden. And this is how we operate. If you don’t like it, or if your Avengers don’t like it, then they can take it up with me.”

L- Loki got a kick out of that part of the story. At one point, he created an illusion of little action-figure sized Batman, Robin, Nightwing, and Spider-Man on the dashboard, and had them re-enact the scene as best as Peter could tell it. “For the visuals.” Loki had smirked. And he had asked Dick, “What do you think? They look just like the real thing, no?” To which Dick had replied “Why did you make my head so big?” and Loki had sworn that his head just looks that big normally and he ‘Didn’t do anything to the illusion, really, Grayson, do you think so little of me?’ Which made Dick’s eye twitch.

I'm tagging @mockingjaylad !!! :3 your word is "BIRD"

[watsittoyah]

Along Came A Spider…2099

Warnings-Sexual content, time travel, oral sex, rough sex, fang play, size kink, breeding kink and slight blood play. Some obsessive behavior..

(My Spanish isn’t great, so I did use google translate to help…)

Chapter 4- Just To Put My Mind At Ease..

You stifle a yawn as you gather Mr. Stark’s paperwork. He had a meeting call in Aruba and you were triple checking to make sure he had everything he needed.

“Hey Tom-Tom.” You freeze for only a second after hearing that annoying voice. “Maybe if I just keep walking he will go away.” You whisper as you hear him following you.

“Tom-Tom. I know you heard me.” You hear Tony call after you and you rush into Mr. Stark’s office.

“Here you go Mr. Stark. I have your paperwork, some notes, and I have all of your calls pushed back for the next two hours.” He nods and sits at his desk. You stand there for a bit and he clears his throat. “You may go.”

You internally groan because you know Tony was waiting for you outside the door. You drag your feet a bit and check your watch.

It was time for your lunch which means-

You open the door and your heels were clicking across the floor. “Hey T-” You Stop him. “Sorry Tony but I have a lunch date with my boyfriend.” You make sure he heard you when you said boyfriend and he nods slowly. But a smile spreads across his face.

“Well when you want a husband, please don’t hesitate to ask.” You fight the urge to grimace. “Later Tony.” You walk over to Gregory and he tips his hat at you. “Hello Miss Valentine. Your friend is waiting for you.” You nod. “Thank you. I’ll be back after my lunch.” You head out of the building and you see Miguel leaning against his car.

He looks over at you and you feel weak in the knees. How is it that you two have been dating for over the past two months and this man still has you in awe.

“Hola señorita Valentine. How do you feel about Thai cuisine?” He asks as he opens the passenger door for you. “That sounds absolutely amazing. There’s this spot I’ve been wanting to try, Erica said that Dennis brought her there last month and she said the food was delicious.”

“Are you talking about Thai Town?” You gasp because that means only one thing. “Baby did you get reservations there?” He nods and gives me a great big smile. “I did.” You squeal and pull his face close to yours.

You give him several kisses as he starts the car and he smiles against your lips. “Amor, we can sit here and I can let you kiss me but we might be late to lunch.” You move back and you sit on your hands.

“I’m just so excited.” You smile from ear to ear and he holds your hand. As he drives he tells you about his latest discovery.

“…and we’re doing testing on gene splicing. So far we have succeeded on making a mouse cross breed with a snake.”

“That’s interesting, but it’s also concerning. Are you going to start testing on humans?” Miguel shrugs. “I’m not sure yet, I was thinking that if I do then it’ll be harmless.”

“As long as you don’t go testing it on yourself.” Miguel was quiet for a moment and you were going to address it but he had arrived at the restaurant. As he parks the car you go to speak but he opens the door and he quickly walks over to your side and he opens the door. You step out and take the offered hand he had for you.

“Ready?” He asks. “Always when I’m with you.” As you two enter the building you see Miguel looking at his smart watch. You don’t know what’s on the screen but he curses under his breathe.

“Amor, please wait inside for me. I just have to grab something from the car.” Before you could protest he leaves you there.

Instead of waiting outside you go into the building and walk over to the hostess. “Table for two. It might be under O’Hara.” She checks and nods. “Your table will be ready shortly Mrs. O’Hara.”

You go to correct her but you stop yourself. Would it be a bad thing if she thinks you’re his wife?

You wait patiently for the table and for Miguel when you get a tap on the shoulder. When you turn you see a strikingly beautiful woman standing there with the brightest blue eyes you ever did see.

“Hello.” She greets. “Um, hi.” You say as you go to turn away from the woman. “I noticed that you came here with Miguel.” You turn back around because how did this woman know your boyfriend?

“You know him?” She nods. “Why yes. Miguel and I have quite the past. I’m surprised he hasn’t told you about me. But where are my manners. My name is Dana D’Angelo.”

She gives you a bright smile and you feel sick to the pit of your stomach. Of course this demi-goddess would be his ex. She was beautiful, long legged and she had pretty teeth. You wanted to knock them clean down her throat.

Miguel enters the restaurant and he walks completely past Dana, ignoring her all together, which makes your chest swell with joy.

“Sorry about that, amor.” He whispers as he kisses your temple. “Hello Miguel.” Dana says behind him. He rolls his eyes and then turns to her.

“Dana, long time no see. How have you been?” He asks. “I’ve been well. Tyler and I just got back from Miami. How about you? I see you have a cute little girlfriend.”

Who is this bitch calling little?

“Actually, this is my amazing girlfriend. And I won’t have you disrespect her in any shape or form. Now you have a nice day, I am going spoil her my girlfriend and make sure she has a wonderful time.” As Miguel leads you away, you look back at her with a smirk on your face.

“I didn’t know you use to date models.” You tease him. But he shrugs. “Well I’ve made some upgrades. I date goddesses now.” You hide the smile playing across your lips and the hostess motions for the two of you to come with her so you two can be seated.

As you two are seated by the window you look around in awe. The decor was beautiful. “I know I shouldn’t gawk but I love the colors. Maybe I can convince Erica to remodel the kitchen.” Miguel reaches across the table and he holds your hand.

“If she says no then, how about you come over to my place and redecorate it?” Your eyes light up. “I can? Miguel, baby that would be great.” You lean over the table to kiss your hazel eyed beauty, when all of a sudden he gets up and he grabs you with such precision and skill, it scared you.

He leaps in the air and that’s when a car goes crashing into the window. Miguel holds you close to his large frame and he does a spin as you two land in the chaos.

As everyone screams and runs out of the restaurant, you hear Miguel groan in pain. “Miguel? Miguel where are you hurt?” You ask as you get up and look him over.

He was holding his side and when you reach, you draw your hand back and there was blood. “Come out, come out, where ever you are….” Someone taunts. You turn slightly to see a large black alien like creature. It throws its head back and let’s put a carnivorous cry.

“You have to go, amor.” Miguel says as he sits up. “I’m not leaving you, come on.” You try to help him but Miguel was too huge. “Tommie, I’ll be right behind you, now go!” He snaps at you. You look him in the face and you get up. You hear Miguel behind you as you run out of the restaurant.

The alien creature crouches down as you make it outside and he seems to be sniffing the air. You turn to tell Miguel to start the car but you see he isn’t there. “M-”

You continue to run but something screams for you to duck down. You do just in time to see a large pole barely miss your skull. You go to run again but something grabs your arm. You cry out in pain as the grip tightens.

“No matter what timeline he is in I’ll always sniff him out and find him. And his scent just so happens to be all over you.” The alien creature had yanked you up in the air causing your arm to yank out of the socket. You let out a scream and it laughs.

“Such a pretty thing, we like you. Venom likes you.” Venom flicks out its tongue and licks your cheek. You feel as if your arm is about to be ripped out as you try to see where is Miguel.

“Tasty…” It’s jaws opens wide and you scream bloody murder as it goes to eat you. Just then, you get yanked out away from this creature. You were pressed against someone and you hold them tight. They bring you away from the alien and land on their feet.

“Are you okay?” He asks. You finally look up and you see a masked man. You’ve only heard about him in the news. But to see him in person? Now that was something else. You nod at him but jump when you hear the alien coming.

“I need to go fix this. Please get somewhere safe.” You grab Spider-Man by the arm. “Please, my boyfriend he’s missing and…and-” He gently removes your hand from him. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he comes home to you. Now please go, I don’t want you to get hurt.” He strokes your cheek and he turns. When he leaves, you stare after him and you hope he doesn’t get hurt. “Be careful Spider-Man…”

•••

For obvious reasons you had the rest of the day off. You had came back from the hospital after getting your arm checked out. It was sore but it wasn’t broken. They had gave you some painkillers and sent you on your way.

You were in the bathroom, sitting in the tub, scrubbing Miguel’s blood off of your hands when you hear your roommate knocking. “T? Tommie, I got your text. Are you okay?” She asks behind the door. “Yeah.” You lie as you watch the clear water turn crimson.

You had left multiple messages and voicemails to Miguel and yet he hasn’t answered. You played over a million and one different scenarios in your head of what could’ve happed to your boyfriend and all of them were terrible.

“Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay.” You chant as you let the water down the drain. You wrap yourself in a towel and ignore your reflection in the mirror. Once you’re dried off you leave the bathroom and go straight to your room, ignoring Erica.

You close the door and let the towel drop to the floor. You grab a pair of boxer shorts and you grab one of Miguel’s T shirts he had left behind. You pull that on and you inhale it as you lay in the center of your bed.

A small scratch to your door makes you sit up. You get out of bed and open the door to see Milo. You scoop him up and close the door back. He purrs and grabs your fingers so you can pet him.

“Do you think he’s okay? I mean Miguel has to be, he is a big guy. Yeah he has to be okay.” You say as you sit on your bed.

You bite your bottom lip to keep from crying but it’s too late, the tears just come. “You know I think the sad part is that I’m relying on a costumed stranger to bring Miguel back to me. It’s sad but I have hope. All I have is hope.”

Milo leaps out of your arms and claws at your door. You feel sad because now even the kitten wants to leave you. You open the door for him to leave and go to close it.

“Amor?” You hear his voice and you look up to see those eyes. “Mig-” You cut your own self off and throw your arms around him. He wraps his arms around you as well and he walks you back into your room, kicking the door closed.

“I thought-”

“I know, I’m sorry. We got separated and I couldn’t find you. But I’m here.” You feel the water works coming down again. “I was scared. I was scared and I thought the worse for you. I thought I was going to get a call that you were-” Miguel stops you. “I am okay, amor. I am back with you. I’m home.” He looks down at you and he wipes the tears from your eyes.

“Are you staying over?” You ask, holding onto him tighter. “Yes, I’m staying over. Now come get into bed. Have you eaten?”

You shake your head as he leads you to the bed. “I can cook you something.” He offers. “I’m not hungry right now.” You can tell he wants to say something but he just takes off his pants and shoes, then gets in the bed with you.

He pulls you on top of him and you lay your head on his chest. “Tell me about your day.” Miguel says as he plays in your curls. You shrug.

“Well other than thinking the worse for my boyfriend, my day was decent. Mr Stark is thinking about doing a business deal with an overseas partner. His son, Tony, he keeps showing up at the office and I know it’s so he can ask me out. And I keep telling him I have a boyfriend.”

“Should I pop up there one day?” Miguel asks. “No, Tony is harmless. I can handle him. Oh I should probably thank Spider-Man. He made sure you came back to me.” Miguel’s body seems to relax as he kisses your head.

“Really? So you got to meet the guy in tights?” You nod. “Yep, he was pretty cool. I wonder if he has a girlfriend.” Miguel flips you off of him and pins you down, causing you to giggle.

“Ahora lo vas a conseguir, mi amor.” He tickles you and you yelp out in laugher. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You laugh out. “You better be.” Miguel then pins your hands above your head with one hand and with the other he cups your chin and kisses you. “Mmm, I don’t like sharing. So you’re all mine.” He says as he pulls at your lip.

“I’m all yours.” You moan out. You then feel his bulge on top of you. He leans back a bit and looks at you. “I should get up.” He says as he grinds his bulge against you. You wrap your legs around him and nod. “You should, you should get up.”

“And I shouldn’t do this.” He positions his dick against the now wet spot of your boxer shorts and he rubs it deep, getting a lustful eye roll. “No, you shouldn’t do that.” You open your legs wider and move your hips, to get more friction.

“And I shouldn’t be doing this either.” He releases your hands and he lifts your shirt, letting your perky breasts get some air. He flicks his tongue across your right nipple and pinches the other.

You feel yourself squirming under him and you want him to lick every inch of your body.

“Don’t stop doing that.” You whimper as he sucks your left breast and massages the right. “Mi dulce novia, such a sweet sweet girl you are.” He kisses each breast and he sits up. “Stay still.” He tells you as he moves down the bed.

You watch him as he yanks your boxer shorts off and he rubs your lips together. Your spread your legs wide for him and he looks at what’s between your thighs. “God your scent is so intoxicating, mi amor.” He takes the tip of his tongue and he traces your inner lips.

You know he said stay still but you buck your hips a little so his face was deeper between your thighs. “Mmm, don’t do that again.” He grips your thighs and dips his tongue inside of you deeper.

“I…I can’t help it.” You moan out as you watch him. “Yes you can. Be a good girl for me and take it.” Miguel lets your thighs go and he massages your breasts as he continues to licks and sucks your center.

Your head falls back as you let out a silent cry. He licks you deeper and lets his fangs graze over your sensitive lips. “Don’t stop, just please don’t stop.” You moan as you grip the sheets. “Mmm, I won’t.” Miguel twirls his tongue around your clit and he gives a slow and hard suck.

That causes a hum in your lower stomach. You sit up and you groan for him to do that again. He looks up at you and holds your hips now. He sucks and shakes his head at the same time causing you to whimper and groan. You tell him how good it feels, you moan out how you want him to keep going till you make a mess of his beautiful face.

He obeys and he sloppily sucks and licks your clit. It jumps and you can’t help but buck your hips as he’s trying to hold you still. “Mmm not yet.” He moans against your lips. You don’t listen, you grab his hair and you start to fuck his mouth.

You don’t even care about the consequences, you just want to come. He sucks and groans as you whine that you’re coming. Your legs jerk and shake as you come hard against his mouth. When you finish climaxing you let Miguel go and he looks at you. His chin was wet and he had drool and cum on his lips.

Instantly you were throbbing. God this man was turning you into a nymphomaniac. “You want more, don’t you?” Miguel asks as he gets up off of his knees. You nod and lean forward to reach for him but he yanks you back and shakes his head.

“On no, no, no. Only good girls get to have a taste. I told you not yet and yet…you took it upon yourself to come all over my face and make this mess. Now what should I do with you?” He says as he leans his lips close to you.

“Whatever you want.” You say with a smile. He nods slowly. “Whatever I want? I want to fuck that smile off of your pretty face. Giro de vuelta, Tommie. Put your head on the pillow and keep this ass up.” You turn and as he pushes your head down, he props your ass up and he spanks it.

You let out a moan and he yanks your head back. “You said whatever I want to do right? Well I’m going to pound this pretty pussy into the mattress and come deep. And after I come deep I’m going to fuck that come deeper inside of you. Now if this gets too much, you know the safe word right?” You try to nod but can’t. “Usa tus palabras, princesa.” He says in your ear. “Spider, the safe word is spid-” He moves your head back down onto the pillow and you hear him yank his boxers down and he slides in deep. Not letting you get adjusted to his size.

You bite the pillow as your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Next time, fuck. Next time you’ll listen. Right Tommie?” He pounds into you quickly and you moan out something that sounds like a yes. But you were fuck drunk right now.

“You like being my good princesa. Don’t you?” He goes faster and you arch your back as he palms you open and goes deeper. God this man was going to split you open, but you didn’t care. You liked this. No you loved this. You loved how Miguel could make passionate love to you one second and then fuck you senseless the next.

“I do…I do.” You manage to moan out. He pounds you harder, causing his weight to fall on you. Your legs give out and you just take being fucked into the mattress. “Oh god, you feel so good. This pussy was made for me. God put you on this earth for me.” Miguel moans in your ear as he grips you. Again you were going to come. You feel yourself clench around him and he makes your entire bed shake.

Everyone in the building could probably hear you. But did you care? Fuck no.

You let out a moan but Miguel covers your mouth and grunts. You feel him fill your guts with his seed and you bite down on his hand from pleasure. He stills and you both were breathing hard. “Don’t think I’m done, I said I was going to fuck the cum deeper inside of you.” Miguel says as he kisses and bites at your neck.

••••

It was around 4am when you crawl out of bed. Miguel was sleeping peacefully and you had to get something to drink. You grab two water bottles from the fridge and decide on a small snack. Miguel did take a lot out of you.

You smile to yourself as you grab some grapes from the fridge. As you wash them off you notice something red under your nails. You look at them and that’s when you remember. Miguel was hurt. You had his blood on your hands. You put the grapes back in the fridge and you start back to your bedroom. As you go to open the door you hear Miguel’s voice. But it sounds like he’s talking to someone.

“…she’s safe and that’s all that matters…look Lyla I need you to make sure that the door stays closed for as long as possible. I can’t have her getting hurt because of me.”

Who is he talking to? Who’s Lyla?

You try to listen in again but whoever he was talking to must be speaking because you couldn’t hear a thing.

Your shoulder hits the door and you hear Miguel go silent. “Amor?” He calls out to you. You pretend that you were sleepy and you open the door. “Sorry if I woke you. I was just getting some water.” He gives you a smile. “It’s fine, come back to bed.”

You crawl back in beside him and you wrap your arms around him, just to check something. “Miguel, how are you feeling?” You ask. “I’m feeling great because I have you in my arms, mi corazón.” He kisses your temple and you both settle in the bed.

You give a gentle squeeze and watch his reaction. When he doesn’t react you frown. You know that Miguel was hurt at the restaurant. You have his dried blood under your fingernails to prove it. So how is it that he is fine? And what was he talking about before you had entered the room?

It was time to do a personal investigation on your boyfriend because somethings just wasn’t adding up to you.

••••

You had came up with a plan to check on Miguel but you needed some help. You and Erica were in the living room as she was finishing up with your goddess braids. “Last one.” She says as she combs out your long curl and gets the braid started.

“Erica we’re good friends right?” You ask as she raises her brow at you. “Girl now you know we are. Why else would I be braiding your wide head for free?” You roll your eyes at her comment and mutter that your head is normal size.

“Anyways, I was asking because there’s something about Miguel that just isn’t adding up.” She pauses after you says that. “Saint Miguel? The Miguel that had been over here every night keeping you company? Girl what’s up?” She keeps braiding and you sigh.

“He has secrets, and I just…I want to know. So I was thinking maybe we can…spyonhim.” You say in a rushed tone.

“Let me get this straight, you want to spy on your boyfriend to see what he’s hiding?” You nod and she hums.

“Let me finish this braid and then we can get ready.” You were shocked. “Wait, it’s just that easy?”

“Yeah, T it is. After I’m done I’m gonna get some wigs and I’ll do our make up. Can’t have your man out here catching us.” You go to hug her but she pops you in the forehead. “Sit your wide head back down, before this braid comes out crooked.”

•••

You two were downtown and you had spotted Miguel coming out of a book store. “Should we go see what he was looking at?” You whisper to Erica. “No, we already know. He was looking at some books, now come on before we lose him.” You two get up and keep a far distance from him.

Even though you two were far back, you still felt nervous. What if he caught you two following him? Sure Erica had a red wig on and you had on a blonde one. And yes your makeup was done in a way where he couldn’t recognize you two.

But still, there was just something about you that would sure enough make Miguel see and pick you out of the crowd.

Miguel was just now walking into a building that looked like a college. You both follow inside and you see him getting on an elevator. “Erica come on!” You take off running which you instantly regret because he had held the door open for you.

“No, no, I can wait.” You say in a fake accent. “Miss it’s no problem. There’s plenty of room.” Miguel tells you. You get on but keep your back to him and you keep your shades on.

“Nice weather today.” He comments. “Mhm.” You say as you press the button to open the door. “You know miss, pressing that button isn’t going to get you to your destination any faster. And if I seem like bad company, I’m truly sorry.”

You stop pressing the button and sigh. “I just have an important engagement to get to. And…you seem like a nice man. I’m sure your girlfriend or boyfriend is lucky.” You say to test him.

“Actually I’m the lucky one. I get to wake up everyday knowing that my girlfriend makes my day. She is the best thing that’s ever happened to me and if she will have me then I hope to make her my wife one day.”

The guilt hits you like a freight train and the elevator dings on the floor you wanted to fake get off on. “I’m sure you’ll make a great husband then.” You say over your shoulder.

“Oh and amor?” You turn out of reflex and hum. “Ye-shit.” He laughs and he plucks your shades off. “How did you know it was me?” You ask as you look at your feet.

“Amor, I have been on top of you, under you. And engulfed in your scent. Did you think you could just disguise yourself and I wouldn’t know? Besides your hips they settle in a way that only you can do when you stand.”

You look up at Miguel and frown. “What if I were just a random lady? You mean you would’ve looked still?” Miguel smiles at your pout and pressed the elevator button so it closes. “I only looked for a second, amor.”

“A second? Seems too quick to me. I feel as if you’d stare for much longer than that.” He shakes his head and he lifts your chin. “A second is all I need. Then again when it comes to you, I’d need a lifetime.”

“You’re not getting off the hook for the staring.” You say trying to stay mad. “I wouldn’t dream of you not punishing me. But before you unleashed your fury, how about I show you around my office. And be sure to tell Erica that you’ll be with me for a while.”

“How do you know Erica is with me?” You ask meekly. “Princesa, who else would join you in your crazy schemes?”

He does have a point.

“I’ll just send her a text.” You say as you pull out your phone.

When you two leave the elevator you feel like a kid in a candy story. All lab coats around working on robotic equations. You even see a lab assistant working on a mechanical leg.

“This way, Tommie.” Miguel leads you down the hall and you stop, pressing your face against the glass. “What is that?” You ask in awe. “That, is just a secret project that the higher ups are working on. If you can keep from running and looking like a gawking teen maybe I can show you.” You whip your head back. “Please!” He laughs and gently pulls you away from the glass.

He brings you to a common area and you stop because there was a white board with an equation on it. “That’s all wron-I mean it’s nothing.”

“What’s wrong, amor?” You eye the white board and he looks in that direction. “I don’t want to step on any toes but the equation is wrong. Can I?”

“Be my guest.” You walk over to the board and wipe off just the ending. “This? This right here it’s says it needs a 45 degree angle but it really needs a 37. And the volt level is off, that much voltage could kill a five ton elephant. And, yes. Give me a second.” You bite your bottom lip as you correct the equation and stand back.

“Perfect.” Miguel says behind you. “Isn’t it? I don’t know who wrote the equation but now it’s perfect. I remember when I was little my parents would sneak me into the lab with them and let me play with some of the equipment. My mother would test me on theories while my father would let me help him build this special battery. It was suppose to be a form of energy. Clean energy that would only need dirt to make it work. I would laugh because how is it clean if you need dirt? Am I right?” You turn to Miguel and he was just standing there admiring you.

“I’m talking too much, sorry.” He shakes his head. “No, Tommie. I love hearing you talk. The light in your eyes always shine brightest when you talk about your passion and your parents.” You smile and put the marker down. “My parents are the reason I think this stuff is fun. They made it fun for me…you know my dad met my mother by becoming her assistant?”

“Really?”

“Yes, he said he saw her at a summer program back in high school and he just had to know her. God it’s funny. He said he almost made the lab blow up because he wrote down the wrong equation. They made a deal, he would build and she would make sure the other work would be perfect. They…they would’ve loved you. You know. Because you are a man of science.” You close your eyes trying to keep the tears away and Miguel pulls you in. “Well I love what they left behind.”

You look up at Miguel and just stare.

Did he just admit that he loves you? There’s nothing wrong with that, but are you ready to admit that you love him too?

“You know, they have an excellent program for tech engineering. I could put in a word for you.” He says interrupting your thoughts. “Really! I mean, no, no that’s fine. You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. Besides, I can keep an eye on you instead of that Tony Stark.” You scoff as he opens his office door for you. “Careful Mr O’Hara, you’re starting to sound jealous there.” He closes the door behind him and he holds you from behind.

“I told you I don’t like to share. The thought of that idiot near you…” He gives a heavy sigh. “You don’t have to worry about him. I am yours. I promise.” You turn in his arms and he twirls a strand of the wig.

“Blonde doesn’t suit me.” You comment. “I think anything you have on your body suits you. Especially me.” He wraps his arms around you and his hands spreads across your hips and ass.

“Miguel, you didn’t just bring me to your office so we could possibly have sex on your desk, did you?”

“De qué estás hablando? I brought you up here to show you something special.” He says as he squeezes your ass. “Miguel…I know that look in your eye.”

“What look, amor? I always look at you like this.” You place your hand on his chest. “Miguel, you are going to get us in trouble.” You smirk at him as he lifts you up.

“No we won’t, amor. I know what I’m doing. I’m showing you my work.” He places you on his desk and he lifts up a big manila envelope. You reach for it but he brings it out of your reach. “First things first, dame un beso.” You grab Miguel by his tie and yank him close.

“A kiss is all you want for me to look at your work?” He nods and you pull him in. “Well I better make this kiss worth it then.” You kiss him deeply and he places the envelope down and holds your body close.

You two finally break the kiss and his eyes were red. “You know, if you worked here as well, we could do this all the time. Maybe you can become my assistant.” He says as his ruby eyes searches yours.

“Well I have a policy, Mr O’Hara. I keep my business life professional. So in other words, I don’t have sex with my bosses.” You say as you look at him through your lashes.

“That’s a good policy, but maybe for me you can make an exception.” You shake your head. “No, no, sir. I can’t break my policy. What would your colleagues think?”

“I don’t care what they think, I want to see your legs in the air while I savor what’s between these delicious thighs.” Miguel leans forward which makes you lean back. “That’s not very professional. But I can see the allure in that.”

“Oh you do?”

“Yes I do. Maybe…I can make an exception. But only a small one.” You say as you gently push him back. You get off of his desk and he watches you.

“I like your desk, it’s quite spacious.” You say as you pull the chair back. “It is spacious, imagine you were under there having the time of your life. No one would ever know except the two of us.”

“Let’s test it out then.” You get on your knees and crawl under his desk. Miguel gets a big grin on his face as he unzips his pants and pulls them down to his ankles.

As he sits down you look up at him from under the desk and you stroke him with both hands. “That’s it, that’s a good girl.” Miguel moans out as you lean forward and suck just the head. You stroke him faster and just when you’re about to suck him deeper his door opens.

Miguel straitens and he glances down at you. “Amor, please.” He mouths. “Mr. O’Hara are you busy?” You hear a voice and instead of stopping you keep going.

Miguel clears his throat and shakes his head. “I have t…time.” You twirl your tongue across the head and it turns you on knowing Miguel has to show restraint while you suck him off.

“Good, I wanted to talk to you about our project. I took it up with the president of the company and he said that….”

You watch Miguel’s eyes roll back as you suck under the head. You can tell he would want nothing more than for his co worker to leave the room. So you have fun with this.

“….Mr O’Hara are you listening?” He grunts out a yes as you attempt to deep throat him. “Are you sure? I can come back later.”

“Y..yes come back later.” You hear their footsteps leave the room and the door shuts behind them. Miguel moves back and he gives you a cold glare. “Did that turn you on, amor? Knowing someone was in the room while you suck…suck me off?” You go to answer but he pushes your head back down.

“Oh no, don’t stop now. Keep going.” You open your throat and gag a bit causing him to moan. “Suck just like how you were sucking when my colleague was in the room. Fuck this mouth might get me fired.” Your eyes start to water but you take him deeper and he lets out a whimper. He places both his hand on the back of your head and starts to fuck your throat.

“Cariño, no pares. Por favor, no te detengas.” He begs as his head lolls back. You feel his pre in the back of your throat and you manage to suck down to the base.

He start moaning and stuttering in Spanish. You have no clue what he’s saying this time but you know he is in utter bliss. He lets you go and you still for a moment as he comes down your throat. You swallow all of it and when you slide him out of your mouth you were smiling.

“Come here.” He helps you off of your knees and he goes to kiss you but his door opens again.

“Oh I’m so sorry!”

“You will knock next time!” Miguel snaps at him without breaking eye contact with you. You wipe the corners of your mouth and touch his face, causing his body to relax. “It’s okay. I was just leaving. I’ll see you after work.” You stand up and Miguel would do the same if his pants weren’t at his ankles.

“You don’t have to. You can stay.” Miguel begs. “Oh no, it’s looks like you have a lot of paperwork. Besides, when you get home I’ll be sure to have dinner for you….and dessert.” You wink at him and he glares at his colleague. “What did you forget now?” He asks with annoyance in his voice.

You leave his work place and meet up with Erica in the lobby. “What happened?” She asks as you two leave outside. “He knew it was me, but I still didn’t get anything.” Erica snaps her fingers.

“I can call my cousin. You know the detective.” You hesitate. “I don’t know.” She stops you. “Girl I’ll have him do just a background check on him. Nothing crazy. It’ll put your mind at ease.” You let out a deep breathe and look up where Miguel’s office would be. You see him staring down at you and you nod. “Just to put my mind at ease.”

Previously, Next

[macabr3-barbi3]

dream a little dream (of me) - chapter 3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54459367/chapters/140496796

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 4

You were bound to break a term of the deal eventually, right?

we've hit chapter 3! I got a huge influx of people interested and loving this story and I finally got the inspiration and drive to bang the next chapter out for everyone 🤭 there's going to be more coming, I do as the brain commands lol

A big shoutout to @fraugwinska for being like my number 1 hype person on this fic, you are a godsend 💕

And for those who asked to be tagged when the new chapter went up! @spottypug @dennsfz @bishiglomper @ivebeenthearchersstuff

Same tags as chapter 1/2 plus a couple new ones: Dream Sex, Dreamsharing, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Rough Sex, Dreamwalking, blowjobs, 'punishment' wink wink, minor injuries, let me know if I missed anything lol

I love comments and feedback, I would love to know what you think ❤️ enjoy!

The shock on Husk’s face at seeing you inside Alastor’s room when the door flies open a few days after the camping trip is matched only by yours- the horror you’re sure is written in your expression at the pool of blood accumulating under Alastor’s body where Angel Dust is supporting him with an arm around his waist, a smoking gash across his middle.

“The fuck are you doing in here?”

“What the fuck happened?”

You speak at the same time, voices overlapping as Husk shoves the door to the room further open to make room for Angel to drag Alastor inside. He’s also coated in blood down one side, likely having been supporting Alastor’s weight from the other side to drag him up the stairs.

Alastor’s eyes are clenched shut, smile more like a grimace as he snarls at Angel Dust trying to get his feet underneath himself. “I do not need any assistance, spider, release me-”

“Sure, Smiles, tell me all about it. Ya can’t even fuckin’ stand up without ya gangly ass legs collapsin’, how else were we supposed to get ya here?” Angel has also just noticed your presence in the room as you rush over, pleased smirk taking over his features. “I fuckin’ told you there was somethin’ goin’ on with them, Husk!”

“Shut the hell up, Angel,” Husk mutters, grabbing Alastor by the ankles and helping the other demon get him to the bed, despite Alastor fighting like a wild cat the whole time. You follow closely, hovering anxiously next to the mattress. They drop him unceremoniously, causing him to hiss in pain before the wound starts gushing again. “You,” Husk says, fluffy finger pointed in your face. “You stay here with him. Make sure he doesn’t fuckin’ bleed out or anything. Angel, you go tell Charlie and Vaggie what happened. I’ll get the med kit.”

“Wait, Husk” you say as he and Angel both step away, and there’s a hard grip on your wrist from Alastor when you start to follow them. “Just one sec,” you tell the demon- a great idea, with how known he was for his patience and understanding- and pull out of his grasp, hurrying after the other two. You catch Husk at the door, Angel taking off to find Charlie. “What happened to him?”

“Got into it with Vox, what else? Those fuckin’ overlord meetings are just trouble waitin’ to happen if you ask me, never would’ve caught my ass at one of them.” He runs a frustrated hand down his face. “We couldn’t get much out of his besides that, figured it would be best to get him to his room before anyone else saw him stumblin’ around the lobby.”

“Fuck.” You glance over at him, splayed across the mattress, an arm over his eyes. “Can’t he heal on his own? I thought regeneration was all the rage down here.”

“He’s been fucked since that battle with Adam- angelic steel right to the chest, did something to his body and he doesn’t heal as quick anymore. Some stitches should get him right for at least a little while.” A dark eye watches you from Husk’s peripheral. “I don’t know what you’re doing gettin’ all buddy-buddy with him but you watch yourself. We’re not all fuckin’ stupid- somethin’s up, we saw the goddamn vampire bite on your neck after camping-”

“Are there vampires in Hell?”

“Not the goddamn point. The point is be careful and don’t fuck anyone else over in the process of whatever the hell you two’re doing.” He points back into the bedroom. “Now go stand guard or whatever you do until I can stitch him up.” Husk is off then, jogging in the opposite direction that Angel had gone. You leave the door unlocked and cracked so he can get back in when he returns and go back to Alastor’s side in the bed.

His face is sweaty, eyes still clenched shut in pain, but one of his ears perks back up when he hears you come closer. “Pay no mind to those idiots,” he mutters. “I will be perfectly fine in a matter of hours. Do not let them back in.” He waves a hand lazily, the door slamming shut with a bang.

“Yeah the smoking hole in your chest gives me a lot of confidence to that. I’m not going to stop them from helping you.” You hesitate only a second before reaching out to his shirt buttons. “Let me- you’ll need this off for Husk to stitch you up.” He’s uncharacteristically quiet as you undo the buttons and slide the shirt sideways as carefully as possible to clear some space for the cat to work. You brush against his ribs and there’s a sharp inhale, Alastor’s nostrils flaring and claws digging into the sheets.

There’s a knock at the door and when you move to go open it there’s again a hand wrapped around your wrist. “Stay,” Alastor says, looking like it pains him to say it. A strip of shadow darts across the room to open the door in your stead, Husk coming back through the frame and raising an eyebrow at the sight of you still seated beside the demon.

“Charlie and Vaggie know what happened and will check on you tomorrow. Angel went to shower. Let’s get this fuckin’ over with.” He settles on the other side of you, and Alastor releases his grip on your hand to clench them into the bedsheets as Husk starts to drag the needle through his skin.

A good bit of swear words and a loosely wrapped bandage later, Alastor is patched up and passed out on his mattress. “Where did you learn to do stitches?”

“I don’t know, not really. Winged it. Just knew he wouldn’ want anyone else to see him like he is now. Vulnerable; weak. Benefit to him to have me under his thumb, I can’t run my fuckin’ mouth or use it against him.” He eyes you. “I assume you have no problem stayin’ to monitor him? With the stitches he should be good to go by mornin’ but you’ll want to watch him through the night.”

You could revive your old sleep habits and keep awake through one evening. “Yeah, I can stay. And Husk, it’s really not what you’re thinking-”

“Don’t care. Not my business. Make sure he doesn’t die- who fuckin’ knows what happens to my soul if that happens.” Husk gathers his materials and leaves the room, making sure to close and lock the door behind him.

You wander the room for a while trying to find a way to entertain yourself. He only has a couple books in the room- ones you’ve already read before- and despite your interest in the bayou dimension you don’t want to wander too far away from him. Eventually you pick a book and drag the armchair over to the bed, settling in and keeping an eye on the movements of his chest. He seems to be doing well, despite being weak and injured, no blood yet seeping through the bandages on his chest.

You do so well for a while without getting tired before the siren song of sleep starts to pull at your eyelids. You combat it as best you can- you pace the room, do push ups and jumping jacks, try counting backwards from one thousand. It doesn’t help, and you find yourself curled up in the armchair next to the bed, eyes drifting shut and not opening again.

When the world of Alastor’s dreams comes to fruition, you’re once again just in his bedroom, the only difference being a slightly darker tone to the light. His eyebrows raise when he sees you. “Well! Fancy meeting you here, darling.”

“I’m sorry, I was trying to stay awake out there to keep an eye on you-”

He waves you down. “No worries, dear. I told you before the stitches that I would be fine, that remains true. I cannot fault you for falling asleep on duty when you’ve not been accustomed to staying awake during the evenings any longer.”

A sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I was-”

“Ah ah ah,” he interrupts, and with a shifting shadow he stands before you, trailing a finger down your throat. “That is not to say that I’m not upset with you for something else.” He circles you, eyes lidded and smile teasing. “Need I remind you again of the terms of our deal?”

“What?” Something slips around your wrist, almost like the feeling of Alastor’s fingers but softer, and you glance down to see one of his shadows. His meaning dawns on you. “Wait, Alastor, I didn’t- I’m not here on purpose, I-”

“Ahhh but that wasn’t a condition, was it? It is only allowed with my permission , dear, and I must say I can’t recall giving that to you!” Another shadow wraps itself around your thighs, buckling your legs and bringing you to your knees; he runs a hand gently along the top of your head, tipping your head up to meet his gaze. “I’m afraid discipline is in order.” With a wave of his finger Alastor’s armchair is behind him, settling into it as his tentacles make themselves at home across your body, holding you in place where you now sit on your knees, Alastor’s hand still cupped under your chin. “I think a spanking will do.”

Your body jerks where you’re held. “I’m not a child.”

“This may seem a bit tame,” he admits, expression pensive, “but sometimes the classics can be rather effective! Here’s the plan-” The tentacles shift, bending you at the waist so your chin rests nearly on Alastor’s knee. “You’ve done rather well so far so I won’t be cruel . I think ten strikes should be sufficient. You’ll count them aloud, and should you miss one we will start over. How does that sound fair?”

“Alastor-”

The first strike is over your clothing, Alastor cocking his head when you try to move away from the faint sting of it. “Surely you know how to count, dearest.” Your clothes seem to melt off your body, goosebumps erupting on your skin at the chill in the air. When you don’t respond he sighs, his smile almost condescending. “Oh well; I suppose it can’t be helped. We begin again.”

The tentacle strikes again, a sharp snap that has you hissing through your teeth. Not knowing what else you can do, you decide to just submit- how bad can ten simple swats with a tentacle really hurt? “One,” you mutter, and Alastor’s eyes light up now that you’re willing to play his game.

He cups his hand around the back of your head, and you tilt into his palm. “Perfect. Good girl. Go ahead.”

A gentle whoosh through the air, and another blow to the soft skin of your ass. “T- two,” you say, gritting your teeth against the vague ache. It’s not terribly painful; it’s more the humiliation of it than anything else, but not being able to see it coming contributes to the sting. “Fuck!” Another that you didn’t anticipate. “Three.”

Alastor uses the light pressure of his hand to tilt your head to meet his eyes. “Perhaps I’m just old fashioned,” he says softly, “but I don’t believe ‘fuck’ is a number. Start again.”

You feel the sting of frustrated tears. “Alastor, please.”

He brushes them away with a claw. “Come now, darling, no need for that. You can count to ten, can’t you? Why, it’s easy as can be and then we can be done with this business.”

So he makes you start again- and now for a third time when you can’t stop the whine in your throat from distorting the ‘eight’ into a broken groan. The spanks hadn’t been really painful before but as the punishment continued and the same spots were struck over and over you had become sore, and every new blow stung and ached like nothing else.

And yet- maybe its the position, or the utter helplessness of what’s happening with Alastor in control but there’s that familiar burn in your core, slick arousal from your cunt slipping down your thighs and out of sight of the demon before you.

Your eyes had drifted closed at some point, neck eventually losing the strength to hold itself up and pressing into the fabric of Alastor’s trousers. When he makes a curious humming noise you let your lashes flutter back open. His eyes are dark, pupils blown and his smile dangerous as he looks down at you with lidded eyes. “You know, if you’re having such trouble counting I may have a better use for that lovely mouth of yours, darling.” A brief respite from the tentacles, at least, as he repositions you with his hands to bring your face to the erection that’s grown in his lap. “This isn’t my punishment, after all; I don’t see why I should have to suffer now. How’s this- I’ll count for you, and you keep your mouth otherwise occupied, hm?”

You don’t bother trying to speak, instead just nodding in his gentle hold. He smiles, a little softer then, another quietly uttered “good girl” before he’s undoing his pants and pulling his cock out, presenting it to you and slowly guiding it into your waiting mouth.

He’s not demanding about it, lets you take your time in getting your lips wrapped around the head, fingers brushing delicately through your hair. The position isn’t perfect, and not having use of your hands is a bit of a nuisance but you can move your head enough to take some of his length into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth. You swipe your tongue along what you can reach of the underside of him and he hisses above you, pulling you back with a soft fisting of your hair until you can only reach the tip.

“We’ll continue now, my dear. Be mindful of your teeth, please.” And he slides back in with a simultaneous strike of one of the tentacles. “One.”

Somehow the childish punishment is easier to take with Alastor’s cock in your mouth. You still jerk in the hold of the tentacles when you’re hit, but your whimpers and cries of pain are muffled, the vibrations of it serving a greater purpose now in bringing Alastor pleasure. You make it to seven before a particular hard spank jolts you forward, prick shoving harder into your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. The constriction that happens when you inadvertently gag a bit makes a harsh moan tumble out of Alastor’s mouth, his fingers tightening their grip in your hair. “Fuck-”

You pull off enough to speak, lips brushing the tip as you do. “Thought ‘fuck’ wasn’t a number.”

“Wretched, delightful thing,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb against your cheek. “You raise a valid point, but I think we’ve drawn this out long enough- you’ve learned your lesson?” A nod from you, lips once again covering him and tongue swirling around the head. “Lovely,” he sighs. “Then we’ll make this last bit quick.”

He shifts forward in the armchair, enough that he’s now fully inside of your mouth and each lazy thrust of his hips bumps the back of your throat. He gives himself time to savor the feeling of you sucking and licking at him, throat constricting each time he bottoms out, in between swats from the tentacles. “Eight. Nine. Ten.” Your hands are released from their restraints, and rather than bringing them to your throbbing clit like you desperately want to, cunt drenched and ready for something more, you instead bring them to Alastor’s lap, repositioning yourself to better choke on his length. You let your teary eyes drift up to his face, his eyes lidded where he stares down at you, smile tight and tense. “Wonderfully done, sweetheart. I need only a moment more- may I?” He fists his hands in your hair on either side of your head and you let your mouth go slack, allowing him to thrust in and back out at his own leisure.

You can feel under your hands the flexing of the muscles in his forearm and wish that he would take off his goddamn shirt- get undressed in one of these dreams, just something so you weren’t the only one exposed and vulnerable.

“Magic in dreams doesn’t count, I rather think; it seems that you can do it as well.”

You think about what Alastor had said while camping- how your pants had simply vanished with a thought, the mere desire. You’d never really tried much with your dream powers. You just showed up and tried not to be spotted whenever you were in one, or got the information you were looking for and left. It hadn’t occurred to you until Alastor had said something that you might be able to do more , to use the power for something else.

So while Alastor grows more desperate in his race to completion, fucking your mouth with renewed fervor, you concentrate on the buttons of his shirt. You don’t want to alert him to what you’re trying to do- he’d probably take offense to the fact that you aren’t as wholly engrossed in letting him use your mouth as he likes, might even start the whole punishment over again after he came. So you let your vocal chords do as they please while he ruts into the hole you’ve provided for him, soft moans and whimpers to distract him a bit.

The top button twists, and slowly, silently, pulls itself from the hole it was fastened into. A slight shift of your eyes and the second one follows.

The mere possibilities of what you could do with this information makes you moan, long and low and vibrating hard around Alastor’s cock. Already close, the sensation makes him buck his hips hard, spewing curses as he spends himself in the warm and wet heat of your mouth. You’ve hardly had a chance to swallow- the taste and feeling not awful but just a little strange- before he’s yanking you up from the floor, pulling you into his lap and crushing his lips to yours. His hands come to rest on your thighs, traveling slowly upwards until he meets the welts that his tentacles have left on your skin. You hiss into his mouth at the sting of it, and he kisses you gently while massaging the sensitive skin. You distract yourself with popping another button on his shirt, a motion that goes unnoticed by Alastor in favor of switching between kissing you and watching your face while he touches you.

The rush of it eventually slows and stops, content to just sit there together for a bit with him unaware of the 6 buttons you had managed to get undone. Unlike the other times you’ve met in his dreams you aren’t simply shoved out this time- Alastor wakes up slowly and groggily, like anyone else would, and you open your eyes at the same time. He spots you in the armchair and moves to the side, clearing up a space beside him. “Come over here, dear,” he says, and you’re helpless to disobey. 

Sitting up in the armchair you become aware of two things- that the welts and likely bruises from the tentacles had carried over into real life, as did the slick arousal and throbbing need in your cunt, suddenly desperate to be filled with Alastor- not just in a dream but here, now.

You stand from the chair and to the demon’s surprise, slip your bottoms and panties off before climbing into the bed and settling yourself against his side. He turns to face you, face twisting in slight pain when the wound on his chest shifts, but he trails his fingers down the slope of your neck, over the curve of your hip, finally dipping between your legs and feeling how wet you’ve become from allowing him to be in control of you. “We may have to find a new punishment for you, dearest, if this is how you react to this method.”

“Please, Alastor,” you say, reaching a hand down to his lap and pleased to find that while he’s been spent in the dream, his erection here in the real world is eager to go again. You slip your fingers under the band of his trousers, circle them around his cock with a light squeeze. “Please, I need it- not in the dream but here, real . Please?”

His breath catches in his throat, hot exhale against your face. “I- I am injured, darling, I cannot perform as I do in my mind-”

“You don’t have to.” You’re already shifting, getting up on your knees and settling over his lap, slotting his hard, hot length against your dripping folds. “I’ll do it- you don’t have to do anything. I- I just need to cum, please?”

He cups your face in his hand like he had in the dream. “How could I possibly deny you anything?” He assists you in positioning yourself on his cock, a soft “careful, dear” as you start to sink down.

Jesus fuck. The dreams had done nothing to prepare you for the feeling in real life as you’re speared on his cock, your body making room for him with the delicious slide down until you’re seated in his lap completely. You’re full of him in every sense; your cunt stuffed, mind racing with thoughts of Alastor, vision blocked by anything but the sight of his eyes wide as he watches you take him in, his claws digging into the skin of your hips. It’s so, so much better than it is in the dreams- it’s tangible , a real memory that you can hold onto from your mind, not remnants of something in Alastor’s head. This was yours. Something he’s giving you because you asked for it, begged him for it and he obliged.

You raise up on your knees, already shaky from the slow descent, and make it halfway before Alastor shifts his hips and hits the bundle of nerves inside you. You bite back the moan that wants to escape, glaring at him halfheartedly. “I said I would do it.”

“You’re certainly taking your time, darling. Just thought I could offer some assistance.” He gives you a positively lecherous smile. “I suppose if you won’t allow me to move this should suffice.” He lets one hand slide off your hip to rub at your clit with his thumb, the other tightening its grip on you.

“I’ll- I’ll allow it,” you choke out, a little miffed that the subtle shift of his hips was enough to get him right where you needed him. You ride him gently, mindful of his injury, and the pleasure crests, so close to breaking you that your legs are cramping. “God, Alastor, please-”

“What do you need, beautiful?” You have only a moment to process the word before he’s moving, an arm wrapping around your middle and turning the pair of you over, rutting his cock into you with a speed and pressure that makes you dizzy. His smile is dazed looking down at you, watching your cunt swallow him and reveling in the wet noises that emerge from where you’re joined. “You’re so close, darling, I can feel it- your pleasure is mine. Every time you reach that peak, when you cum on my cock, it will only ever be me. ”

He shifts again, brings his knees up closer to get deeper inside of you. “Fuck, Alastor, my god-”

“I like the sound of that,” he purrs, bending down to trail his tongue up your throat. “I want to be everything to you. Would you allow me that privilege? To claim you, to own you in every way that you’d let me, in any dimension.”

Your head whips back and forth on the pillow, the edge so close your vision is dark. “Please, please, please,” you’re mumbling, “Alastor please, I’m gonna-”

The tension snaps before you can finish your sentence, a wailing cry falling from your lips as you clench and shake and cum under him, around him. It’s so different from when it happens in Alastor’s dreams- it echoes in every part of your body, your head spinning and fingers tightening in his shirt so hard that you fear you’ll rip the fabric. His name spills from you in waves with your release, and his eyes are dark as his thrusts intensify, chasing his orgasm with the resolve of a man possessed.

“Yours, all yours,” you mumble against his lips when his face comes close enough to catch his mouth. “All of me.”

He snarls and his hips stutter, snapping hard against yours. “So much- so much better,” he gasps through the tightening of your pussy on his length. “So perfect- mine -” With a harsh growl he spends himself a second time for the night, into the wet silken grip of your body. He thrusts gently through the wave of it before he collapses in a heap against you, breathing heavily into your ear.

“You’re so- lovely,” he mumbles. “Giving, for a demon. One would think that you would simply take- I would, were it me with your powers. But you’re just…” He trails off, head against your shoulder and breath slow. 

You bring a hand up to trail down his back. “I meant it,” you whisper, swallowing your nerves. “If you- if you would have me, I would be yours. For as long as you want. Forever.”

He remains silent.

Fuck. You hope you haven’t overstepped some boundary. “Alastor?” He doesn’t move, or show any indication that he’s heard you. “Hey, are you okay?” You push at his shoulder with no response, so you double down and push harder, tumbling him off of you.

“Mother fucker.” The bandages wrapped around his chest are stained with red, more than when you had begun- the demon had torn his stitches open when he flipped the pair of you around to take control back, after you specifically told him you would handle your orgasms yourself. “Idiot,” you hiss at his slacken face, but you still brush his hair back from his sweaty forehead before pulling your bottoms back on and rushing down the hall to find Husk, ignoring the sting of the welts on your rear the whole way.

[greensagephase]

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 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 probably 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.

_________

Next Part - Valentine's One-Shot 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

[warlocksoup]

into the spider-verse: nishinoya yuu

volume one, chapter one: emails

word count: 2.1k

masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

I know about him.

Teeth gnawing on the inside of her cheek, she stares down at her laptop screen. At the same email she’s been staring at for the last three days, ever since she first got the notification for it on her subway ride home. From ijs99ETJfdhsg@yahoo.com: I know about him. To anyone else, it might not bear the same weight. To her, it’s suffocating.

She’s done everything she can to try and trace it. Everything she can, of course, being Googling the address and enlisting the help of Yachi from the IT department at the Bugle. The outcome of the former being: Your search - ijs99ETJfdhsg@yahoo.com- did not match any documents, and the outcome of the latter being Yachi’s entire laptop getting infected with malware.

So, not great.

She shifts on the stiff stuffing of her couch, legs crossed under her and the heat from the bottom of her laptop on the bare skin of her thighs. I know about him. She hopes it’s a bluff. Realistically, she knows it’s not. But she’s still in the denial stage.

The screen goes dark, and she wiggles her mousepad to brighten it up once more, just so she can stare longer. She can’t tell him. Not yet. Ideally, not ever. But definitely not yet.

“What are you doing?”

She jolts, automatically slamming her laptop shut as she does so and jumping to face the source of the intrusion.

Spider-Man’s in her living room.

Which is fair. It’s his living room too, even if she does pay the lion’s share of the rent.

“Porn,” is her immediate response and the only thing she can think of to justify her reaction, even if it makes her cheeks burn. “Watching porn,” she doubles down, because she has to.

He reaches behind his head and grabs the end of his mask that sits at the back of his neck, pulling it off in one swift movement. Nishinoya looks at her with his hair flattened against his forehead, blond streak brushing against his brow, and a blossoming, deep purple purse spread across his cheek. “In the living room? Well, I guess I am home early, so can’t complain there.”

She pushes her the laptop off to the couch, and stalks towards him, eyes now fixed on the bruise that stains his features. “And what the fuck happened to you?”

Noya grins at her, bright and unfazed. Almost proud, like his injuries are a badge of honor. “Just ran into my good friend Alexei Sytsevich. He was super stoked to see me.”

Her hand shoots out and takes hold of his jaw, lightly squishing the soft flesh of his cheek together as she tilts his head to the side, trying to get a better look at the damage. Noya just stands there and lets her. “Thought that guy was in jail.”

“Broke out,” Noya says, words barely making it out between his smooshed-up lips. She releases him, and steps back. “He loves breaking out of jail. It’s like his favorite thing to do.”

Noya steps back, and retreats into his bedroom, closing the door with his foot as he does so. Still, she can hear his voice coming through their thin, plaster walls. “I don’t even know what that guy’s end game is anymore. I’m pretty sure he just wants me dead. It’s always like, ‘this is your end, Spider!’ when before he was a lot more focused on his personal goals, so.” 

She sighs and collapses back onto the couch again. Freak emails from freak strangers with untraceable email addresses and Sytsevich breaking out of jail for the thousandth-fucking-time to wreck his havoc on Noya’s face. Her hair is going to start turning gray. “You’d think they would’ve built a cell to hold him, by now,” she calls, and Noya is swinging open his bedroom door to saunter back out into living room, suit abandoned in favor of old gym shorts and a vintage looking Godilla t-shirt. “What do you think costs more taxpayer dollars, building a better cell, or paying all those cops to get him back in again?”

Noya rolls his eyes. “Well, I’m the one they call, and they don’t pay me, so.”

That she knows all too well. It’s hard, being a single-income home. Since Noya’s full time job is both incredibly demanding and also unpaid, rent and utilities and groceries mostly fall on her shoulders. Which, it’s not like she can complain or hold it against him. In exchange, he’s the one and only Spider-Man, and she could do worse for roommates.

And he helps when he can, selling candid photos of Spider-Man to the Bugle so they can use them to accompany their hit pieces on him (Noya, of course, finds it incredibly ironic every time they write out a check to him, gleefully paying him for photos of himself).

Noya flicks on the kitchen light, and as he’s lingering in the kitchen, popping open the fridge door with his hip to stare blankly at its contents, she grabs at her laptop once more, opening it back up so she can stare at the email once more. “Do you wanna get a pizza tonight? Some guy gave me a twenty for saving his car from the Rhino’s path.”

“Twenty?” she echoes back, fingers hovering over the reply button. Should she reply? What would she even say? Her Internet safety training at work taught her to never reply to spam emails, just to report it to the system administrator. But looping in the Bugle on an email like this is the last thing she wants. “Seems kinda cheap for saving his entire car.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Noya calls back, closing the fridge. He flicks his wrist in the direction of the living room, and string of white web following it. It attaches itself to the side of a crinkled up, plastic water bottle she was drinking, and before she can blink, the water bottle finds itself in Noya’s hand.

“Dick,” she says, without looking up from her computer. “I was drinking that.”

“Can you look at your porn later? Do you want the pizza or not?”

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

Between them is a half-eaten box of pepperoni pizza, propped open on the fire escape. Noya chews loudly on a slice, his eyes on the city skyline, and hers on him. She watches the bruise on his cheek, and how it moves and shifts with each bite he takes. She reaches out and grazes her thumb against it. He swats her hand away. “Stop it, stop worrying.”

She frowns and slides her hand between her pressed-together knees, like she’s trying to hold it still. “Who the fuck said I’m worried?”

“You’re always worried,” he replies, dusting off the end of his pizza nad leaning up against the closed window behind him. “Every time I come home with so much as a papercut, you’re staring at me like there’s a bullet hole in my chest.”

Her eyes drops, and she looks at the greased-stained cardboard between them. “Well, you have come home with bullet holes before, so.”

He sleeps them off. He wraps up the wound in that fucking webbing of his and he just sleeps it off like it’s a headache or scratch or something most people wouldn’t even go to the doctor for. And then she’ll find dried, rusted bits of that webbing, littered around the house.

“Yeah, and I turned out fine,” he assures her, voice a bit softer now. She looks at him, brown eyes shining and slight grin unwavering. “A bruise isn’t gonna kill me. I don’t want you to waste your energy freaking out over me. You have better things to be freaking out over. I know how horrible your boss is.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, but I don’t really give a shit about him, to be honest.”

Her fingers fidget, and Noya reaches over, covering both of her hands with his. She looks up at him. “I’ll always take care of us both. Okay? Nothing can happen to me while I’m out there, because I know I gotta come back home and make sure you’re good. That’s my number one priority, and I’m not gonna break that promise. Alright?”

She nods her head. “Yeah, alright. I trust you.”

His grin brightens, and he leans forward to throw his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into his side. “See, that’s my girl. Complete and total faith in me. I love to see it.”

“Whatever,” she grumbles, but rests her head against his shoulder. It feels nice, in his arms. “I’m really the one who takes care of you, y’know. By like, paying the bills.”

“Oh, that reminds me. Can I borrow ten bucks? I bet Tanaka-“

He stops and straightens out. She peers up at him, at watches as his focus narrows in on something in the distance. By the time she catches up, and she can hear the sirens start to go off in the distance, Nishinoya is gone, leaving a slight breeze against the strands of her hair.

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

On her desk are two rejections.

The first is on Spider-Man, a feature piece that details his symbolic value to the people of New York; how valuable his presence in the community is and just what he represents to the average New Yorker. It theorizes that identity of Spider-Man isn’t what matters, but the meaning of the mask itself. And it has a big, yellow sticky note on it with the word ‘WRONG!’ written out angrily in thick, black marker.

She sighs. She knew that one wasn’t gonna make it past Jameson. Hardly any of her Spider-Man pieces do. Noya told her to just start writing smear pieces on him, just to get more articles published. But she’s not willing to sacrifice her journalistic integrity to write a bunch of bullshit about how her best friend is ‘getting in the way of the NYPD.’

The second is on the recently passed Norman Osborn. Most obituaries have been fluffy love letters to the capitalist, and maybe Jameson was expecting more of that, rather than a scathing dissection of his life, including, but not limited to, his involvement in developing and selling weapons of war. The sticky note on this one reads, ‘what is this commie crap?’ which, in all honesty, she should’ve been expecting.

She sighs and falls back into her chair. She needs a new, better job. At a place that will publish her articles without twisting her words into nonsense propaganda. A place that will pay her properly, and not like it’s nineteen-eighty-five.

There’s only one silver lining to her job, and that’s the blonde-haired girl depositing a hot latte and everything bagel on her desk. “Rejected again?” Yachi asks, pulling up a chair from the empty desk beside her.

“Ugh, apparently billionaire, tax-evading war criminal Norman Osborn was a friend to the masses that needs to be celebrated, and the guy that says innocent lives every day for free is public enemy number one,” she rants at once, snatching that coffee up and immediately gulping it down, ignoring how it burns her tongue on the way down.

“Yeah,” Yachi agrees. “You didn’t know that?”

She rolls her eyes, wiggling her mouse to wake up her computer. “Shut up.”

Yachi leans back in her chair, and gestures towards the computer screen. “Any more emails from that anonymous guy?”

“No, and thank god for that.”

“It’s so weird,” Yachi notes. “’I know about him,’ is weird, but they’re not threatening you for like, money or information or like any other average email scam. And from what I could see that guy really did not want to be tracked down, and spent a lot of time making sure you couldn’t. And for what? To say something weird.”

Yachi doesn’t know the weight of it. Doesn’t even begin to understand the threat, the implication. Yachi doesn’t even know how the ‘him’ is supposed to be. So she really doesn’t get how disconcerting those facts are. She contemplates, for a moment, slamming her head into the keyboard in front of her.

“Whatever,” she decides ultimately. “I’m just going to ignore it and hopefully absolutely nothing will come of it. It’s how I deal with most of my problems.”

“Oh, what a coincidence, me too,” Yachi laughs, and then stands. “I gotta go. Jameson accidentally downloaded malware onto his computer trying to claim a Target gift card. Have fun rewriting your articles.”

“See you for lunch?” she calls after Yachi’s retreating form.

“Yep!” Yachi confirms with a wave of her hand, disappearing down the line of small, cramped cubicles.

With one, deep, calming breath, she returns her attention to the desktop in front of her. She stretches her neck to the left, and then to the right, and prepares for another day of endless bullshit.

Ding!

YOU HAVE ONE NEW MESSAGE.

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[buriedpentacles]

How to Discern Sign from Coincidence

I've noticed that in both on and offline witchy and pagan communities a lot of people's first question relating to deity work and communication is "how do I tell if something is a sign" so I wanted to share my perspective and how I vet something as being a sign or message from my deity or not. This is a pretty simplified 'checklist', but it's important to note that signs are not my main form of communication with my deity which is why I'm quite 'conservative' in identification of them!

How many times? Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence but three times may be a sign. This is a general rule I use for signs like angel numbers, specific animals or imagery or something similiar. Though it doesn't always apply - for example, if I see five crows on a nearby roof I don't see it as a sign because that is a very common sight where I live. But if I see three deer near my house in one day, that IS pretty mystical.

How unusual is it? If something 'makes sense' or can be easily explained by mundane reasons it is less likely to be a sign, and this can work in "levels". E.g. if I see a spider in the corner of my room, that's pretty unlikely to be a sign because that's just what spiders do. A spider running across a specific chapter in my book or tarot guide is still explainable but I'd probably check if it was meant to be a sign. And a sparrowhawk landing on my windowsill would almost definitely be a sign because they rarely come into the area where I live.

How does it make me feel? Sometimes I get a gut feeling that something is a sign or a message, even if it isn't unusual or has only happened once. This can easily be mistaken for 'wanting' something to be a sign so still vet and double check but the differentation does with time, experience and a growing relationship with a deity. Often, signs are clear that they are signs, because you're deity wants you to see them and so your intuition often drags your attention to the, and tells you that they're special somehow.

How do I confirm? I almost always vet signs and messages, typically it's just a quick tarot reading to confirm that something was a sign and what it might mean or represent. Often I'll also meditate or consider the sign to see what feelings or knowledge it inspires in me as well. Sometimes I don't need confirmation, I just know. But that has come with time and I would always check early in my relationship to my Mother Nature.

Important notes If something is just coincidence, that's okay, and it's still cool! So what if that crow wasn't a sign from a deity, you still got to see a crow! And so what if that fortune cookie message wasn't actually a message from your spirit guides, it can still be an inspiring and needed message! There is magic in the mundane and that's wonderful.

If you're new to paganism or witchcraft and want to work with a deity I will warn you to be wary and do a lot of research. Don't just assume: "I saw crows the other day, Odin must be reaching out to me." or "I found a bunch of rose petals on the floor so it must be aphrodite." Signs can mean a great number of things and if you truly believe it is a deity, vet and research source materials for that deity and pantheon. Ask for confirmation and take things slowly, it is very easy to trick yourself into seeing something you want to see.

Signs vary between practitioners and it's important to understand and respect that. What might mean one thing to you, means something entirely different to someone else - even if you're devoted to the same deity. While I always recommend checking original religious sources (if possible) for traditional omens and meanings, they will probably be quite unique to you!!

Tell me about some signs you've recieved from your deity or spirit guides (or whoever)! Mine tend to be animals or plants, which is definitely on brand!