#now just to get the rest of you on board…..

[who-is-there]

I just started watching Dimension 20’s Fantasy high, halfway through sophomore year, and I do want a fic where people realise just how used to being part of a group the bad kids are. For example-

-I fully believe every single one of them is used to Riz climbing them so he can see better. It’s usually Gorgug, but it’s happened to all of them at some point. They might hold out their arm for him to jump onto a counter, or so he can pin a clue to his board. Before they all sit at a table, at least one of them makes sure their 4’4 friend can jump onto the table.

-Every single one of them has also caught Adaine after she had a vision. Sometimes she can just shake them off, but the big ones make her falter in what she’s doing, which can be dangerous. It happened once in a fight, and now the people standing closest to her are always ready.

-Fabian doesn’t really recognise he has a blind spot with his eye injury, because the others immediately clocked it. But this also means they walk in between him and the road, in case some idiot mounts the curb. They keep an eye on anything to his right, shifting drinks and pushing chairs if they can tell his depth perception is a little off.

-Fig usually stands in the middle of the group to intimidate people into not messing with them, so it’s sort of become habit to just crowd around her. After the battle, if no one’s seriously hurt or anything, everyone just wanders over to Fig. At this point, Fig is always the first one to yell out after a fight, just so they can regroup.

-Gorgug is the go-to for lap-sits, leaning, anything to do with being physically supported by another persons body. His hoodie is soft, and his headphones are loud enough that you can kind of hear it if your leaning on him. His parents weren’t great with nonchalant physical contact, in case he was already upset, so he takes great joy in his friends not being scared to hug him for fun.

-Kristin has left her staff at every single house she could with the bad kids. She leaves her bag in classrooms, the library, the cafeteria. Whenever the group leave somewhere, they do a full scan, because Kristin has probably left something and they grab it for her. No one has any clue who her bag actually belongs to, because all of the bad kids have been seen carrying it around school several times.

The school at large know who the bad kids are, and the town recognise them, but they still don’t know why all of them double check a room before leaving, or collectively carry a small stool around with them. One student with a fantasy iron deficiency faints in class and Kristin catches her before she hits the ground. Once, Fig isn’t in school for a day and all the bad kids have this restless energy about them. It is not uncommon to see them on the field during lunch, curled up in a pile on Gorgug. One guy tries to surprise Fabian from the right and gets body checked by Adaine before it even registers.

It’s sort of uncomfortable for everyone to see any of them without the others, because it means a) the rest of them committed a crime, b) the rest of them are committing a crime, or c) the rest of them are about to run in and start planning to commit a crime. And no one wants to lose their plausible deniability here.

#fantasy high #riz gukgak #gorgug thistlespring #figeroth faeth #fabian seacaster #adaine abernant #kristen applebees #dimension 20 #the bad kids

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fanfic idea: Rude Kryptonian

Danny Fenton is prepared for a lot of things when Vlad calls his parents and asks to take his godson for a summer. Things would have gone differently if Danny's hero business hadn't made him a "troubled" kid. He was failing a lot of his classes, sleeping or ditching most classes and not to mention all the random injuries.

They were worried he was becoming some kind of gang member. (It hurt a little they assumed the worst of him and not worried that something bad was happening).

His dad was convinced that Vlad could somehow set him on the correct path.

Now Vlad had moved on from trying to be his stepdad and forced Danny to be his son, but that didn't mean Danny liked him. Or that he could forget what he put him through.

So he was less than happy to pack his bags and be driven to the airport to board Vlad's private jet. His parents lectured him the whole time, warning him to not be a bother to his uncle Vlad, and to behave. Jazz just looked anxious, practically begging her parents to change their mind.

They did not listen, and Danny was thrown onto the jet after getting past security. He was not surprised the plane went off course due to "mysterious" wealther a hour into the trip.

It was like they purposely flew into a thunderstorm, complete with harsh winds and rain. His plane crashed landed in the middle of nowhere thirty minutes later.

He was less surprised he was the only human on board - Vlad had tricked him once before with a ghost pilot. Why not again?- But at least no one, but Danny was hurt.

Jeez, couldn't Vlad think of anything more original? Then again, the definition of insanity is doing something over and over again, expecting different results.

Danny sat in his chair, having escaped the crash with only a few scrapes thanks to his powers, fuming at his parents and Vlad. He was so distracted he did not notice the hurried rescue team that surrounded the broken metal.

He did however notice the man who ripped off the top part of the jet, floating in the air in the most ridiculous outfit he's ever seen.

"Are you alright, son?"

"Are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Look at you. Look at what you're wearing." Danny gestures to the stranger. He ignores how the stranger's blue eyes start to glow. "You can't honestly tell me you're alright in the head looking like that. "

The man frowns "You're not human"

"How dare you! I have rights!"

The stranger fumbles, looking suprised "no. No, I meant you're like me- a alien"

"I'm not illegal! I have papers!"

"Not that kind of alien-! I'm Kryptonian!" The man floats down to Stanford beside Danny's seat. He reaches out to carefully ripe away the metal trapping him. "I think you may be as well, based on your biology"

Danny squints "How do you know my biology?"

"I used my x-ray vision to-!" Danny gasps, reaching out to slap the man across the face before covering his body with his hands. The man seems more startled by the fact that he was able to push his face to the side and then the actual slap.

"Stanger danger! Creep! Fruit loop!" Danny cries, turning intangible and flying out of the wreckage. "Stay away from me!"

He flies at his top speed, ignoring the call from the man. He can feel him following, and yes, he may be faster than Danny, but he's also solid and visible. Danny uses his powers to his advantage, losing him after a twenty minute chase.

It's only after three days of trying to get home that Danny realizes he's futher away from home than he originally planned. As in an entirely different world? It feels like it since Amity Park doesn't exist, much less, his friends and family.

Thankfully, he finds a nice little city that reminds him of the ghost zone for him to rest in. His new neighbor is filled with colorful characters, and there always seems to ve something happening keeping him on his toes.

Maybe this summer won't be so bad after all.

Meanwhile, Clark is panicking that a new Kryptonian had fallen from the sky, crashing landing near Ma and Pa's place only to have the boy disrespect him and escape. Now it's a race against time to find him before it's too late.

Also he was a little mean.

But where would he go?

Gotham. Danny is in Gotham, and he's yelling at people who keep trying to spray chemicals at him. He's having the time of his life.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Rude Kryptonian #part 1 #dimension travel #Danny is nothing but sass and spite #Clark is not used to being bullied as Superman

[rafeysdoll]

could you do a blurb based on this lana lyrics?🍒

open me up

tell me you like me

fuck me to death

love me until i love myself

i love.. first thought was fwb w rafe!!! ur both hooking up and it's “just sex” till smthing happens & he realizes his feelings?! say some random guy & u are slowly getting closer cs ur trying to get over your crush with rafe, believing it’ll never happen yet that’s when he realizes he likes u back? ugh he’s so sickkkk!

tysm @rafefuckingcameron for dialogue help !

“tell me you like me,” you mewl, glossy tears streaming down your cheeks as rafe’s fucks his cock deep into you, opening you up softly. each touch and every kiss filled with love and affirmation. “i love you, i love you.” he mumbles softly, a whispered promise.

you whine, breathing hard as your nails scratch down his toned back, pushing him closer to you as you lock your legs behind his waist. “i’m right here baby,” he coos before pressing butterfly kisses against your face. “i got you, i got you now baby. i’m all yours,” he affirms, drawing his dick back until just the tip was at your entrance, pushing back in and hitting your sweet spot.

you nod, the sound of the head board thudding against the wall making your head spin. “mine,” you agree, eyes closing at his ministrations, losing yourself in the stomach tightening pleasure. you could feel your brain turning into a mush, halting when rafe’s hand comes in contact with your cheek — a gentle, light slap.

“come on pretty, eyes on me, yeah?” he mumbles, a pitiful whimper falling out of your swollen lips as you peek, bottom lip trembling. “sorry daddy,” you apologize, voice shaky and barely audible. the ecstasy completely binding when you feel that electric feeling crawl up your spine.

you could barely contain yourself, writhing and melting under him. tits bouncing at every thrust. body on fire. “how it feel, kitty?” he pleas, voice practically dripping with condescension and mocking. yet another broken form of a whimper leaves your lips, you take in a shaky breath as you try your best to structure your words.

“i-i dunno,” you cry, the dick drilling itself inside your contracting walls cause your brain to short circuit. “feels..” you blubber, cutting yourself off prematurely. “feels what? use your words.”

you squeal, tears brimming in your eyes, collecting your lower lash line. “tell me, he ever touch you like this, doll?” he questions, hand reaching out to caress the exact spot he slapped. “c-can’t..” you mumble, eyebrows knitting at a deep thrust — small hiss ripping out of you.

“poor little kitty, can’t even form a proper sentence huh?” he taunts, resting one arm besides your head, hot breath fanning your face. you could barely focus on any of the words he was spewing, too focused on how he was sending you to cloud nine.

rafe’s soft and gentle touches completely counteract with his smug and humiliating words. “dick feels too good, hm?” he continues, speeding up purposely to make it harder for you to reply, your own squeaks and the bed's mixing together. n

you knew rafe was irreplaceable.

a little visual for you guys >.<

#anon #rafe ౨ৎ #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfic #rafe fic #rafe cameron fic #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey fanfiction #outerbanks smut #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks x reader #outerbanks fic #rafe cameron thoughts

[nu-suave]

ASKING JJK MEN IF THEY WANT CHILDREN feat. nanami, choso, satoru, toji

word count: 1770

summary: you ask them if they want to start trying for kids. a/n: due to the nature of the fic, it is afab!reader. this was requested by my dearest friend <3 hi lana.

You’ve idly discussed the idea of having children with Nanami before, but always as a far away notion. It’s been something that will happen, one day, but that one day was some far flung, abstract thing that was always just there on the horizon. It starts lurking with you; one day, one day, one day. Would it be today? Tomorrow? A week? A month? A year? The idea becomes more compelling with time.

You bring it up one day after dinner. Your legs are thrown over his on the couch, scrolling on your phone. He’s got a book in hand, the other loosely rubbing circles on the skin of your ankle. A post comes up of a woman smiling at the camera as she makes her toddler’s meal for the day. You imagine yourself in that position; teeth gleaming, a fussy toddler resting in Kento’s arms, pressing a kiss to his mouth as you make lunch for the three of you. The question escapes you as naturally as breathing.

“Do you want to start trying for kids?”

His hand stills. “Pardon?”

“I’ve been thinking about it lately,” you say, heart picking up steadily, an innocuous rhythm in your chest. “About us having kids. What it’d be like. If I’m ready for it.”

“Are you?” He asks, tone soft and tentative. It’s familiar, the same way of speaking he adopts whenever he wants something and is trying to make it less obvious so as to not put pressure on you. It’s ridiculously reassuring. He’s always made it known that he wants to have kids of his own one day, that marriage and children is what he saw at the end of the road. He wanted to marry you, he wanted to have a child with you, and he wanted to settle down and take on a safer job to be there for it.

“I think so. I- I really want to, I think. It’s been on my mind a lot. The idea of having a child with you, raising them together, that kind of thing. We’d, um, probably have a second one a little after, right? To make sure the first isn’t lonely and has someone close in age to grow up with. I was wondering if you were ready for that, too.”

“I’ll have to take on more missions leading up to the birth,” Kento says. “When the child is first born, it’d be ideal to have a lot saved up so I wouldn’t have to work directly after you give birth.”

Your mouth splits into a wide smile. “Yeah? And we can get all those cute baby clothes? I’ll make a Pinterest board.”

“Of course.” He leans forward to kiss you. You’ll learn later that he’s been anticipating the question; he has a small list of baby clothes already on his phone, written beside a list of potential name ideas. He’s got books on childcare saved to his Amazon wishlist, has already been considering how to renovate the study into a nursery or if you’d keep the crib in your shared room. He’s been wanting this for a long time now, but he doesn’t say any of that yet - just pushes his head deep into your shoulder and breathes deeply, the future he’s been dreaming of suddenly resting right in the palm of his hand.

“Do you want to start trying for kids?”

Asking Choso this point blank out of nowhere isn’t your smartest idea. Choso is notoriously family-oriented. He loves Yuuji, adores just the idea of having brothers and is steadfast on being a good example and dedicated sibling. His adoration for family combined with the care and thought he dedicates to raising Yuuji right has you convinced he’ll be a good father. It isn’t hard to imagine, and coupled with your own want, you figure you can’t go wrong. What’s the worst he’ll do? Say no?

“You want to have a kid with me?” He repeats, soft and reverent and warm. He leans further into you from where he lies on top of you, head cradled against your collarbone as you’re sandwiched between him and the couch. With every breath, you ruffle the top of his hair.

“Yeah?” You ask, like that was ever a question. It wasn’t for the record - from the moment you and Choso started dating, you knew you were going to marry him. Once again, considering the fact that if he were a sim he’d have the traits of family-oriented, loyal, and cat lover, children were the natural progression. It was never a question of if with Choso. It was always when. If things go your way, the when will be now. “Of course I want to have kids with you. Why would you think otherwise?”

“I don’t know,” he breathes, “I didn’t think you’d want to have a kid with me. You really want to?”

“Duh.” You bite back a smile. “Do you?”

“Of course. I’ve–” he swallows. “Do you think I’d be a good dad?”

“The best,” you promise. “Just look at how you look after Yuuji. You care so much for him, how could it be any different for our child?”

Our child. He mouths the words against your skin. “I love you. I want to have kids with you. I couldn’t imagine anything better.”

“I love you too.” Your hand winds its way into his loose hair, resting lightly on the back of his neck. “And really? You can think of nothing better?”

“Yuuji will be excited to be an uncle,” he muses, “and I’ll be a dad. I’m going to raise them right.”

“Obviously. With you in their life, they’ll never go a day thinking they’re unloved.” Your nails dig into his skin, a warm smile pressing into the top of his head. Choso is right; you can’t imagine anything better, either.

“Satoru,” you start, voice soft with sleep. He stirs beside you, his hair a mess on the pillow and arms warm around you.

“Hm?” He replies, a slight rasp accompanying the sound.

“Do you want to start trying for kids?”

“Wha–” the sound that escapes him is small, confused, as he sits up slightly, dislodging your comfortable position cuddled up to him. He squints at you, bright blue eyes framed by his long white lashes, glazed slightly from his half-asleep state. “What did you say, baby?”

“Do you want to have a kid with me?” You repeat patiently, fondness rushing through you and settling just under your skin. “It’s been on my mind. Don’t you think it’d be nice to have a mini-me running around?”

“Mini-you? It’s way more likely to take after me.” He yawns, jaw clicking with the action. “It’d be cute. What brought this on?”

“I want to have kids,” you admit. “I really, really want to have them with you. You’re the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. Is it really so surprising I want to have a kid with you, too?”

“Nah, I just-” he rolls his shoulder, collapsing back into bed beside you. “I just wasn’t expecting it.” His hand, warm and soft, slides underneath your shirt to pull you closer, resting on the small of your back. “I’ve got the money to raise one. The higher-ups would be annoying about it - they’d want it to end up exactly like me.”

“Don’t call our future child an it,” you admonish, “and I trust you to keep them protected from that. I know you’re strong, but I trust you enough to raise them right. To never make them feel like they’re not good enough.”

“‘Course.” He watches you blearily, eyes half-lidded. His pupils are blown out like a cat, his every movement grace and agile, languid like a lounging cat in the sun. “When… when would you want to have a kid?”

“The near future would be nice,” you admit, shuffling closer to take your head under his chin.

“Now?”

“That’d be ideal.” He hums, pressing forward until he’s rolling you on his back. “I didn’t mean right now. It’s late, you have work in the morning.”

“Don’t care.” He settles his weight against you, legs twining with your own as his arms settle at your sides. “No time like the present. There’s no point in waiting around.”

“You’re insatiable,” you murmur fondly, hand moving to cup his cheek. “And ridiculous. So ridiculous.”

Toji, you’re a little nervous to ask. He already has Megumi, and you’ve seen how he is with him. Well-meaning, but to this day a little awkward - he spoils that kid rotten, cheers when Megumi takes his first steps, rubs his hair and pinches his cheeks every time Megumi babbles something vaguely intelligible. He tries his best, but he also disappears for days on a job. He looks at Megumi and sees his dead wife some days. Others, he watches his son and sees the child he could have been, if he’d been just a little luckier in the genetic category. Still, you want to know. “Hey, Toji?” You ask, using a fingertip to draw circles on his pec as your head rests so his heart beats beneath your ear. “Would you want to try for a kid with me?”

His grip on your waist tightens, fingers spasming as they dig into your skin. “You wanna have a kid with me?”

“Mm.” Your eyes droop shut, attempting to ignore the way your breath heaves from your lungs. “I know you have Megumi, but don’t you think it’d be nice for him to have a sibling? I’ve been thinking about it… how nice it’d be to have a baby girl or boy. He’d be such a doting older brother.”

“The kid can barely speak,” he snorts. “I’m not sure he even knows what a baby is.”

“Hush, you.” You scold. “Would you be open to having another kid?”

He’s silent for a long moment. As the seconds draw on, the circles you draw onto his skin grow quicker, a little more aggressive as your nerves build. “If it’s you, I’d have another.”

You pause, biting back a silly little smile. Considering you try to smother it in his shoulder, you doubt you did well hiding it. “Yeah? You’d have another kid, just for me?”

“Just for you, mama.”

You flick his shoulder. “Good. I’m glad.”

“You really thought I’d say no?”

“Don’t pull that with me. For a moment, I’m pretty sure you thought you would say no.”

He groans. “You’ve - what did that one friend say? - domesticated me. I’m a changed man.”

You laugh into his skin, a flattered giggle that sounds younger than you’d expected. “You’re so dumb, Toji.”

hi <3

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #kento nanami x reader #kento x reader #nanami x you #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #kamo choso x reader #chousou x reader #chousou kamo x reader #kamo chousou x reader #gojo x reader #gojou x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojou x reader #gojo x you #gojou x you #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x you #for lana <3

[theitgirlnetwork]

Earn it

Ch. 1: You Boys Really Like to Play Doubles

Note: Okayyy another one in the lineup. Now that I'm back in my account I think I am going to make an update schedule. I hope you all enjoy this new series along with the others and let me know what you think. This first chapter is mostly backstory building but this story is my chance to be messy lol. It will have spoilers for challengers, but also a lot of things are changed. Please feel free to interact and give feedback (constructively) it inspires me to hear from you all. This obsession came fast so I feel like I already have so many ideas for these characters. This one is short because I was dipping my toe in but they will get longer! The aesthetic board for this story will be on the masterlist in a couple hours! Thank you and enjoy!

Tashi Duncan is an athlete. Hell, she’s the athlete. Of their arena. Of their time. She’s good. Great. Passionate. Beautiful…in the words of Art.

Sexy as shit in the words of Patrick and just about every other man who managed to lay eyes on her. She’s something to marvel at. And they did. Marvel. Art and Patrick stand there, jaws slack, eyes locked on the girl as she moves about the dancefloor absently. It’s like the opposite of how she moves on the court. There she’s a predator. Moving quickly, calculated, with strength. Here she’s graceful, eyes closed and enjoying the motions.

It’s their chance. A chance to meet her. To flirt with her. Con her out of her number when she wanders away from the group of women she’s dancing with over to the couches to retrieve her drink. It’d be easier to talk to her alone. They do their best work in a double, and as far as they knew, she had no partner. As far as they knew. 

And they’re basking in her attention. Taking turns in a whole new match. When one gets the gift of her gaze the other’s smile drops like a puppy waiting for its turn to be played with, her easy smirk resting comfortably on her face the whole time. Until she comes.

“Made some friends?”

The two of them can’t help but have the same thought. Art was admittedly more ashamed to have it but they both had it. There’s two of them.

“These guys are in the tournament. They play tomorrow.” Tashi smiles, holding her hand out to the girl and helping her step over the table so she can sit down next to her. Both men offer her their own hand to help her the rest of the way but she simply squeezes Tashi’s harder. 

Patrick and Art don’t know where to look. Before the girl’s arrival Tashi was the only person worthy of admiration here. She’s stunning, abnormally beautiful. But so was her friend. She had a darker complexion, with full lips coupled with a pretty smile. She tosses her silky dark hair over her shoulder, exposing more shiny skin. Her pink, strapless dress compliments Tashi’s royal blue one so much that even two men with no knowledge of women’s fashion would guess the choice was purposeful. They exchange looks as the women cross their legs in sync, Tashi handing her half-drunk beverage to her friend who rolls her eyes with a small as the boys’ eyes drop to her mouth. “Are they any good?”

Tashi hums thoughtfully, tilting her head lightly as if she needed to observe them to determine that. “From what I hear? Sometimes.”

“Not good like you though.”

That takes them aback for a moment. I mean, Tashi just won a tournament, she’s proven herself enough to pass judgment, all this girl has proven to them is that she’s hot. Who’s she to decide that they weren’t in the same league as Tashi. They weren’t, but who was she?

“You, uh, know that just from looking at us?” Art asks, finding himself sitting straighter at the scrutiny, the unimpressed looks on the two girls' faces getting to him as he wonders what it would take to change them.

All the girl offers is a shrug and a small smile around the straw, earning her a giggle from Tashi. 

“You know, we didn’t get a chance to see your match. What’s your name again?” Partick’s brows furrow as he glances between his friend and the two women. 

The smile drops from her face and her lips curve into a frown, cheek dimpling in a way that almost has the men forgetting she’d insulted them. “Wow.” she scoffs.

“You’ve got balls. You came to my party to talk shit to my best friend?”

That has them scrambling, stuttered half apologies from Art and sarcastic denials from Patrick. Anything they could blurt out to convince Tashi and her mystery friend to stay. All of it interrupted by their burst of giggles. 

“We’re just fucking with you.” The girl leans her head back against the cushion, puffing out laughter that makes Art’s head feel like it’s swimming. He blinks at the feeling and takes his own deep breath. “I’m Heaven, I’m nobody, I don’t play tennis.”

“Nobody? You don’t seem like nobody.” He doesn’t even recognize his own voice when he says it. 

“Nobody is nobody.” Patrick cuts in.

Tashi gives the girl a disapproving look that would put ice in the mens’ veins, pursing her lips in agitation briefly before turning back to the guys in front of them. “She’s Heaven Whitlock, she’s my best friend, and the best fuckin’ ballerina in the world.” 

Heaven lifts and drops her shoulder noncommittally, taking a deep sip of the drink. “Yeah. I’m the best fuckin’ ballerina in the world.”

The girls left soon after that so that Tashi could take pictures and once they were done, they were pleased to discover that the boys had waited to hang out with them more. The group made their way down to the beach and found themselves talking about all sorts of things. Life, Tashi’s earlier match, tennis as a spirituality. They were shocked to learn that Heaven knew a lot about the sport and could even play a little. But based on how they described it, she only knew enough to help Tashi train. 

Patrick felt aggravated and outnumbered by the fact that all three of the others were going to college. 

“Okay, so she doesn’t want her only skill to be hitting a ball with a racket. What the hell are you going to school for Miss Ballerina?”

“Train. I can get better.” Heaven shrugs. “Get my name out there too, before I join a company I mean.” 

“Can we see something?” Art blurts from his seat, shaking out the ash from his cigarette. “Like your favorite trick or-”

Heaven’s face lights up slightly. Her back has been straight up all night, her shoulders rolled back with poise, but she perks up in excitement at the thought of the opportunity to dance. “I like doing Fouette turns-”

“Heaven, in sand?” Tashi whips her head to look at her friend. “You don’t even have your shoes. You have your first audition for your school’s fall show when we get back don’t you?”

Heaven rolls her glossed lips inward, nodding, eyes dropping to the sand briefly before they return to the men in front of her. “Maybe another time.”

“Another time. There’s gonna be another time?” Patrick leans back in his seat, looking between the two women smugly. “Does that mean I’m gonna hear from you two again?”

“I’ll see Art at Stanford. Heaven will visit.” 

“He’s asking for your numbers.” Art offers. “So am I.”

Heaven’s brows furrow as she stands dusting sand off her hands before she helps pull Tashi to her feet. “Both of you?”

“Yep.”

“Want both of our numbers?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Oh, you boys really like to play doubles, huh?” She’s met with cheeky smiles and a shrug from Tashi. “Well, I have a boyfriend, so…” she grins, gesturing to Tashi. “May the best one win boys.”

The boys crane their necks briefly to follow Heaven’s walk up the hill, her sandals in hand, watching as she turns expectantly, holding out her other hand for Tashi to come up and take. They barely get out their offer for Tashi to come to their room later before she’s making her way up the hill. Her long legs carry her to her friend, whose hand she takes before swinging their arms back and forth, singing along together to whatever song is playing in the distance together.

As soon as they’re out of sight Patrick whips his head to face Art, a wild smirk on his face. 

“Which one do you want?”

“So…which one’s your favorite?” 

“Patrick’s got more natural talent, that’s for sure, but he’s stubborn, doesn’t wanna learn anything new. Art- what?” Tashi tilts her head at her friend’s scoff, moving to sit next to her at the small desk chair, watching as her friend rubs lotion into her face. “What?”

“Nothing, T, tell me about Art.” Heaven laughs, shaking her head. Tennis. Always about tennis. Poor boys. 

“Art wants it more right now. And he’s good. Could be great." She stands walking over to the closet and tugging on her jacket. “You set your alarm?”

“4:30, T. Gotta get our run in and practice for my audition before the tournaments start.” 

“Mm, good girl.” she smiles, dropping a kiss onto the top of Heaven’s head. “I’ll have my key.”

“You’re really going? You’re gonna go to their room?” Heaven turns in the seat and watches Tashi put on her shoes. The brunette pauses to look at her friend, walking over and crouching in front of her. Her hands rest on Heaven’s legs as she looks up at her.

“You jealous?”

“Want me to be?” Heaven asks, leaning her forehead against Tashi’s with a defiant look on her face. “I know you’re not gonna fuck them.”

“Really?” Tashi hums absently. “We’ll see. I’ll be back later. Why don’t you call Trevor while you have the room to yourself.”

With that she pats Heaven’s legs, pushing off of the floor and leaving her alone in the hotel room. 

Heaven takes her best friend’s advice. She calls her boyfriend. It was a mistake.

Trevor hates Tashi. He hates tennis. He hates dance. He hates everything. 

He didn’t use to. He used to think the girl’s dedication was cool. He used to love to come to showcases, recitals, even some of Tashi’s tournaments. But then he realized his place in everything. His place in Heaven’s life. Dance and Tashi, those two things would always come before him.

That’s the hard lesson everyone always had to learn. Tashi was always gonna win when it came to tennis and Heaven. Tashi was Heaven’s first…period. First best friend, first kiss, they’d taken each other’s virginities. They met in middle school. Heaven had been at the community center gym with her mother, running and doing weight training while her mom took a zumba class. Out on the court was Tashi. Beautiful and focused as ever. Heaven chose a treadmill that she could watch Tashi practice out the window from. She’d been startled when the taller girl came into the building and stood next to her machine and asked her if she knew anything about tennis and if she wanted to play. 

She wasn’t good. Tashi was determined to make her good enough to play with. Soon enough they were inseparable. Heaven would sit in the stands at Tashi’s games, yelling as loud as the girl playing when she won. Tashi would go to see Heaven dance, offering her applause when she won awards or starred in a show. Having Tashi was intense, but Heaven was intense too, in her own right. They were both passionate about their crafts, and loved the art of working hard. They liked making each other proud. 

Tashi was Heaven’s first everything except her first love. That was dance. Her muscles stretching into beautiful motions. Using her body to tell all kinds of stories. Becoming someone else entirely over the course of a song. Heaven would die if she couldn’t dance. 

She doesn’t feel like that about Trevor. He was a sweet guy, and she liked him. Despite Tashi’s constant digs that he wasn’t good enough or amounting to anything, Heaven liked him. Not everything has to be an intense feeling. Content can be good enough. I can be satisfied with content. 

But Trevor wished she would be normal. He wished she wasn’t so close to Tashi. He wished she wasn’t constantly working at something. At least that’s what he said when he dumped her over the phone. 

“Trev-Trevor. Trevor are you fucking serious?” 

Dial tone. 

Heaven’s lip curls up in frustration as she feels her eyes watering. She throws her phone against the wall, hearing the distinct crack of the screen. “Fuck. Fucking shit.” She…needs Tashi.

Pulling a baggy t-shirt over her sport’s bra and underwear she goes to the bathroom and rids herself of any evidence that she’d been crying before she heads to the room Tashi told her she’d be in. She creeps past her friend’s dad’s door so she doesn’t wake him and alert him that neither she nor Tashi were in bed. As she gets off the elevator on the boys’ floor she straightens as she goes to knock on the door, hearing the faint sounds of lips smacking and moaning. 

That makes her feel worse then she did when Trevor told her she wasn’t worth the hassle.

Heaven turns on her heel and goes back to the elevator. Her bare feet pad on the rug of the hotel hallway as she wraps her arms around herself until she gets back to her door. 

She ties her scarf around her hair before climbing into the bed the girls had been sharing, facing the window. The blinds rattle as the wind blows and the quiet tears on Heaven’s face are dry by the time Tashi slips into the room and into the bed behind Heaven. 

The bed dips slightly under her weight and suddenly hands are planted onto Heaven’s side. “Hev, I’m back…I had fun. Come on, I know you’re awake.”

“Cool.”

“I hooked up with them.”

Heaven turns then, laying on her back as Tashi leans over her, her hair making a curtain around her. “Which one?”

“Hmm…both. We didn’t have sex or anything but…I made out with both of them…and then they made out with each other. S’fun.” Tashi grins, flopping on her back next to her friend.

“They…ever done that before?”

“Nope” she smiles, popping the ‘p’ loudly. Both girls burst out into laughter as they think about the difference between their friendship and the two boys they met, so similar yet so different.

“You’re evil. You fucking homewrecker.”

“Ahh, they’ll be alright. It’ll be a good fuckin’ match tomorrow…winner gets my number.” 

Oh. 

“Trevor dumped me today.” 

Tashi turns on her side at that. Her ever-inspecting eyes scan Heaven’s face before narrowing a little. “No bullshit? Good fucking riddance. Should’ve dumped him when I told you to. Damn, would’ve been an even better match if I knew that earlier. Imagine how they’d play if the stakes were the winner gets both of us at the same time.” She laughs, putting her legs under the blankets. “It’d be fucking funny.”

“Yeah, T. Fucking hilarious.”

Tashi is at the courts by 5 am the next morning, and Heaven is running on the beach. She normally loves training with here friend, but right now, she needs a fucking break. Being drilled about the audition or talking about this deathmatch for Tashi’s phone number doesn’t feel like something she wants to do right now.

Still, her and Tashi’s workout playlist blasts in her ears as she fights the sand’s resistance, panting out breaths to Lose My Breath by Destiny’s Child. That is until she sees something moving out of the corner of her eye. 

It’s the blond one. She wasn’t sure which one’s name was which, but to her, the blond one was the cuter one. She liked his smile and he looked like he had a nice body under his baggy shirt yesterday. His tight athletic tank today shows her she’s right. Popping an earbud out, Heaven slows to jogging in place, offering him a smile. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, you’re up early, aren’t you?”

“Might not play tennis, but I’m still an athlete. I get up at 4:30 everyday. Clearly you do too.”

“Uh,” he adjusts his cap on his unruly blond hair before covering it back up, matching pace with her in her jog. “Not really, but the match is in a couple hours and I gotta explain to my family how to watch it. There’s a lot of them. And Patrick snores.”

“I see. Well, you’re gonna have to get used to it if you’re gonna get with Tashi.” His mouth opens and closes at that, like he’s shocked she knows he’s interested in her friend. “She told me about the stakes for today…and the other stuff.” 

He falters in his step at that, placing his hands on his hips as he laughs in disbelief, before pulling her shirt over his mouth for a second to hide his face, ears red. “You guys share everything, huh?”

“Apparently you do too.” Heaven laughs, pausing in her jog to stretch her leg when she feels tightness in it, bending over to work the muscles. If her eyes hadn’t slipped closed she would see Art’s eyes dart to her backside before looking away in an attempt to be respectful. He absently thinks that Patrick is right. Hot girls usually are friends with other hot girls. “But I’m rooting for you…uh…?”

“Oh, Art. I’m Art.” he breathes, willing his eyes not to slip again.

“Short for Arthur?”

“Um, yeah, but nobody calls me that. Except my grandma when I’m in trouble.” He blushes. Heaven straightens, and offers him a pretty smile.

“If one of you is gonna be seeing Tashi, I need to know your full name. I’m sure you can carry the speech to the other one too. If you hurt her, you die, I’ll kill you little white boy, you get it right?” 

“Right.” he hums, rocking on his feet. “So, you guys are close huh? She talked about you a lot last night. Fucking hates your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, well, she won’t have to worry about him anymore. Done. As of last night actually. Tashi was saying she wishes would’ve known that before your little bargain. Then, it would be both her and my number on the line. What can you do?” Heaven shrugs absently. She was flirting a little. Sue her. She’d just been dumped and was finally free to start having fun. All summer she’d been traveling with Tashi, being a good little doting girlfriend, turning down every hot guy she met. Only ever having one slip up, with Tashi. She knew they both were into her friend, she didn’t expect anything-

“So raise the stakes.” 

Heaven’s eyes widen as Art looks at her earnestly, looking embarrassed by his own words. “What?” she laughs.

“You can…definitely tell me to fuck off…but…we would be interested in having your number added to the…pot? Fuck, that sounds awful, Patrick and I want your number too. I want your number too. If that’s okay.”

“And you wanna play for it?”

“Those are the rules right?” 

Heaven observes the man in front of her. Boyish. Cute. And nervous. He doesn’t know how hot he is. Not like his friend. Not like Tashi. He doesn’t know what he looks like. And he seems sweet enough, nervous to offend them, but determined enough to push past the embarrassment to get what he wants. “Tashi’s rules. Not mine. Do you guys want to play for my number?”

His jaw sets slightly as he looks her up and down. “I wanna earn it.” 

“Okay, winner gets Tashi’s number. And mine.” 

#oc #tashi duncan #art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers 2024 #mike faist #challengers movie #challengers #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x patrick zweig #art donaldson x tashi duncan #tashi duncan x reader #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x tashi duncan #challengers spoilers #love #earn it

[rafesslxt]

MISS YOU | r. cameron

summary: you and rafe have a secret relationship but rafe starts to miss you, not being able to spend much time with you without people seeing you together. - based on this request

warnings: fluff, none really, included picture of chat between rafe and reader, reader is John B‘s sister.

words: 1,7k

"Sarah!" I laugh loudly, running away from her through her garden. "I‘m gonna get you!" she giggles and runs after me. We‘re currently in her garden with her Dad and Rose, them sitting on the porch with cocktails and whiskey while Sarah, Wheezie and me run around with water guns.

I run behind Rose, knowing Sarah would never shoot her with water. "Girls!" she says in a warning tone, looking right at Sarah in front of her, holding the water gun up. "Sorry Rose." Sarah says and shoots water out of it, trying to wet me but only hitting Rose.

I run away again and shout "Sorry Rose!", looking behind me. I see Ward laughing at his wife, while Wheezie laughs at her too. Suddenly I bump into something hard, making me almost fall down on my ass but two hands catching me. "Woah, easy there." I look up and see the face of my boyfriend Rafe, grinning down at me cheekly. My cheeks heat up when he licks his lips. "Sorry." I giggle and he let‘s go of my hands.

Rafe and me are in a secret relationship, only Sarah knows about it. But the rest of the kooks and pouges don‘t. We just wanted to enjoy ourselves so we decided to not tell anyone but Sarah, since she‘s my best friend and also the girlfriend of my brother John B.

When we told her she was getting all red - faced and mad but then I reminded her that she‘s with my brother. "Oh - was that how you felt?" she asked to which I just laughed and nodded. "But this is different! It‘s Rafe!" she tried to argue. "Hey!" Rafe warns her making me laugh again.

His family loves me but same reason there. We just wanna enjoy what we have, just for us. Plus I just know If Wheezie knew, the whole island would know the next day. So sometimes Sarah covers me and I cover her when she‘s with my brother.

"I missed you.." he whispers, while the rest of them was busy laughing at Rose. "Miss you too, Rafe." I say smiling up at him. "What are you doing today?" he asks me, looking down at my pendant which lays on my chest. "We‘re with the pouges later, going surfing." "Hmm, maybe I‘m there later too." I chuckle and tilt my head. "You don‘t surf, Rafe." "Yeah but I can watch you." he grins before Wheezie comes to us.

"Ugh Rafe, stop botherin her. Sorry Y/n, just ignore him." she says rolling her eyes at him and pulling me back with her to Sarah. I look over my shoulder and mouth a 'i‘m sorry' at him.

We continue our little game until it‘s time for me and Sarah to go to the pouges. Rafe leaves with Topper in his car and Sarah and I in her‘s. When we arrive at the beach, the pouges are already there. "Jo I thought you guy‘s would never come!" JJ shouts from afar with wet hair and his surfboard in his hands. I see Sarah jogging towards my brother, kissing him on the lips. I make a gagging face before walking towards JJ, giving him a hug. "And miss surfing with you? Never." I joke and go to Kiara and Pope, greeting them too.

John B pulls me in a hug too but I laugh and push him away. "Ew stop, you just kissed my best friend." I joke while walking towards my board.

Just when I pull my top over the top of my head I hear my phone vibrating. I pull it out of my shorts, pulling them down too so I‘m in my bikini now. I see it‘s from Rafe so I turn around with my back to my friends so they couldn‘t see me writing, or with who.

With a smile I put my phone away, turning back to my friends. "What made you smile like that?" Kiara suddenly asks me, grinning at me. The rest of them looks at me too now. My gaze meets with Sarah‘s, seeing her biting down onto her bottom lip to try hide a smile as she knew exactly what did. "Uh – nothing. Just saw a cute video on tiktok." I lie, pressing my lips back together. I don‘t notice JJ walking behind me and snatching my phone from me. Fuck.

"Hmm let‘s see what really made you smile." he say‘s, unlocking my phone. I really need to change my code. But his attention wasn‘t long on my phone when John B groaned, making JJ look up from my phone. "What is -" he starts but stops when he follows my brothers gaze and rolls his eyes.

Rafe, Topper and Kelce are walking down the beach into our direction. I used the opportunity and snatched my phone back. "Hey young lady!" JJ scolds at me to which I only giggle and shrug eith my shoulders.

"What do you think they want?" Pope asks into the round. " It‘s the beach guys, maybe they just wanna go for a swim." I say, trying to calm them down a little. I see Rafe typing on his phone again just before my phone vibrates again.

'I‘m jealous of the people that can see you every day.' it kind of hit me right where it hurts, but not because he was mean or anything, but because what he wrote is the truth. Even If we see us every day, we don‘t see us every day. Last time we saw us he sneaked into my room at night with John B asleep in the room next to us. We had to be quiet and were up until the sun was out again. Around 6am he left before John B woke up. Most of the time we just sneaked into each others room or Sarah and I switched cars so no ine would notice the wrong car parking in front of the house.

I sigh and look up, watching him and his friends walking over to us. "Wow Sarah, you really did make an upgrade with him huh?" Topper talks first, still mad that she chose my brother over him. Normally I would just sit back and enjoy their shit show but when someone says about my family, I‘m in for it.

I throw my phone away to my clothes, walking up towards Topper. "What? Still mad that Sarah chose someone who’s better?" i say, looking up at him. "Funny you say that y/n. Last time I heard your name was when your Dad went missing." JJ had to pull me back before I could punch him, ready to do so. "Just continue talking Topper and your Mom is gonna miss her son." He starts laughing sarcastically and shakes his head. "Watch your mouth you little slut before I -" but he got interrupted by Rafe.

"Man that‘s enough!" Everyone looked at him im confusion and shock. Topper turns his head towards Rafe, eyebrows raised. "What? Since when are you on their side?" he asks, feeling probably betrayed by his best friend. "No I‘m not! But she‘s no slut! You just hale it too far man."

"Are you hearing what I‘m hearing?" I hear Pope whispering to us, everyone nodding in unison.

Topper scoffs at his friend and shakes his hand. "Oh and how would you know? Didn‘t you hear what Corey said about her last – " Suddenly Rafe‘s temper get‘s the best of him and he grabs Topper by the collor of his shirt. "Because she‘s my fucking girlfriend and I know he‘s talking shit because she‘s been with me!"

Everyone went silent and I closed my eyes at his revealing. I took a deep breath before I opened them again. I gulp and look to my side where John B slowly looks from Rafe and Topper to me. "Tell me he‘s talking shit." he says in a calm voice. What‘s that saying? The calm before the storm?

"Uhm - well.. I wanted to tell you but -" "You can‘t be for fucking real! Are you really telling me right now my sister is dating Rafe Cameron?"

I swallow down the clump in my throat and take a short look at Rafe who just looks at me apologetic and let‘s go of Topper‘s collar. I look back at John B and try to find something to say. "You‘re with my best friend!" "That‘s different y/n! He‘s a kook!" "Uh last time I checked Sarah is a kook too!" I said, throwing my hands into the air.

"That‘s different. He‘s .. he‘s Rafe!" he says, glaring at me and then down to Sarah, seeing she‘s the only one who doesn‘t look suprised. "Wait.. did you knew about this?" he asks her, turning more towards his girlfriend now.

She starts blushing now, stuttering a little. "Well - he uh - he‘s my brother and.. it‘s the same when I date you, I guess?"

"Why didn‘t you tell us y/n?" JJ asks now. "Would you habe been mad at me?" i shoot back. "Of course! It‘s Rafe we‘re talking about!" "Well, that‘s why!" He scoffs and shakes his head. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I love him and you can‘t do anything about it! He‘s my boyfriend and I am old enough to make my own decisions!"

"You love me?" i hear Rafe saying in a soft tone. It‘s now that I just realised what I said. We‘ve only been together for a few months now and no one said these words.. until now.

My cheeks heat up when I look at him shyly. "Yeah.. I do." He walks over to me and cups my face in between his hands. "I love you too, princess." he whispers before kissing me softly at first and then with more passion. I hear gagging noises and and a few "oh my god" "eeeeww" "lord help me" making me giggle against his lips.

"This feels like some bad type of Romeo and Juliet.“ Pope says awkwardly. "This is so fucked up." Kiara agrees. "This is so disgusting." my brother groans while Rafe picks me up, my legs wrapping around his waist.

That‘s where John B draws the line tho. "OH HELL NO!"

Uh excuse me? Why is this my first Rafe Imagine on here when he‘s my favorite??

Anyways, let me know If you liked it! 🫶🏻

my masterlist and my current 1000 follower special

Prequel to this story here, how they got to know each other.

xoxo sarah <3

#outer banks masterlist #outer banks #outer banks smut #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron masterlist #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron blurb #rafesslxtwritings #drew starkey #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fluff

[artificial-transmutations]

Your wish is my pleasure

Hi guys! The poll which story deserves a sequel came back pretty unambiguous! So, please enjoy more hunky Arab guys in the 3000 follower special: "Your wish is my pleasure"!

In case you want the first part first, here it is:

Greg looked at the lamp in his hand in disbelief. "Was that... because of what I said?"

One of the other guys, Maurice, who had been watching with his mouth open, nodded slowly. "It... seemed that way, bro! You wished for him to be gay and now Catherine is a fucking guy!"

Greg looked at James, and slowly, his disbelief turned into a smug grin that frightened James.

"Is that true, James? Are you gay now? Answer me!"

Again, James was compelled to answer, and so he said truthfully:

"Yes, master! That was your wish."

Greg turned around to the rest of the guys. "Man, can you believe this? We can, like, wish for *anything* now! Unlimited money!"

"Unlimited women!", Maurice chimed in, getting on board.

"I don't know, but what about James?"

It was Kit, formerly Catherine, who spoke for the first time since his transformation into a hunky guy. He seemed rather uneasy about the whole thing.

"Fuck James!" exclaimed Greg. "He's a real life genie now! Think of all the things we can wish for! You, too, Catherine! You've got a dick now as well, wouldn't you want unlimited pussy for it?"

Kit raised his arms.

"Oohkay, first, it's Kit. And second: Ew. I don't want pussy, just the thought alone..." He shuddered. "No, I prefer cock. Lots and lots of big, throbbing cocks."

Kit licked his lips and looked around at the others, who slowly backed away from Kit.

"God, you're really a fag now, aren't you?" Greg said, looking amused. "Okay, so pussy for the rest of us, and cock for Kit. Fine. It's my wish and nobody can say me and the guys don't like homos, right, guys?"

James perked up. There was a... choice. Greg had clearly said 'my wish', but it still sounded a lot like 'I wish' - enough for whatever power that bound James to give him a choice if he wanted to react to it. And James wanted to. Revenge was best served cold.

"And so it shall be, master!" he boomed, and felt the power surge through him once more.

"What? No! I didn't wish for anything!" Greg protested, but the other ones were quicker and just stared at Greg.

A wave of blue smoke emanated from James, the genie, and rolled over everyone, with the notable exclusion of Kit. As Greg breathed in the blue smog, his head was swimming all of a sudden and he had to close his eyes. When he opened them again, he suddenly saw his buddies in another light. He noticed things he never noticed before, like Maurice's cute nose or the way the muscles in his back rippled. Greg looked at his other friends and found that they were all handsome dudes. Kit was the cutest of them all, but that changed quickly. The temperature in the room seemed to rise and Greg, as well as his friends, one by one started pulling their shirts off, showcasing their changing bodies.

Every single one of them became even more handsome. Their chests gaining definition and toned muscles showing in the arms. Greg watched in wonder as his abs formed a six-pack and his hair styled itself into a modern, undeniably gay haircut. Every single one of them appeared to be well-groomed and body-focused now, even though they still had their individual touches.

"I... I'm hot." Greg whispered.

The other boys nodded. "Hell yes."

"And gay."

"Definitely."

Greg only noticed he was almost painfully hard from watching his buddies transform into a bunch of flaming homosexuals, when Maurice came over and groped Greg's cock through his jeans. Greg moaned and looked Maurice into the eyes, easily losing himself in the sight. Almost without him wanting to, their faces came closer to each other until their lips locked and they started making out. Greg moaned into the kiss and pressed his body against his friend.

While Greg and Maurice as well as the other ones were making out, Kit felt a little left out, but as he watched the two men, a certain feeling of arousal was creeping up on him. He looked at James, who was obviously also enjoying the show, judging by his tented underwear. That was a real man. Sure, the other guys were hot, but they were... American hot, but James was pure Arabian beef. And Kit felt bad for him, not able to participate.

Suddenly, he had an idea. It took a bit of strength to separate Greg from Maurice, but due to his new muscular frame, Kit managed.

"Hey, Greg, you're really hot that way. But you know what would be even hotter?"

Greg's cock was throbbing in his pants and had already formed a wet spot from his pre on the front. That was still more modest than what was going on in the background, where groins were gyrated against each other, and the first pair of jeans was being removed.

"No, what?" Greg moaned as Maurice continued to knead his groin.

"Look at James and how beefy he looks! Wouldn't you want this to be an all-Arabian orgy, instead?"

"Oh, God, Kit, that's such a hot idea." He looked at the lamp he was still holding in his hands.

"Genie, I wish that everyone here is a piece of Arab beef like you and that we all have some fun together, do you hear me? That includes you!"

This time, James was all too eager to grant the wish. With another "And so shall it be!", blue smoke emanated from his body and enveloped the room.

The changes were way more noticeable this time. Immediately, Greg felt his toned chest expand with each breath he took, but not receding as much as it expanded before. That way, his pecs solidified into two solid slabs of muscular meat, each easily the size of a plate. At the same time, his stomach also grew, but only as much as it needed to accommodate the new amount of muscle mass, forming a six pack and a delicious V-line.

At the same time, the skin covering this magnificent torso darkened into a healthy tan that was further visually darkened by the copious amount of body hair that also grew in, starting from his pecs and leading down his midsection, until it finally disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans.

Meanwhile, his back broadened to accommodate his massive, muscular shoulders, and his biceps swelled up in turn. The changes rippled down his arms, making his forearms, biceps and triceps swell until he looked like a bodybuilder.

But Greg was still standing, and his legs needed attention, too. His thighs became thicker, and his calves and shins swelled in turn, making his jeans uncomfortably tight and constricting. Moaning from the ecstasy of change, he fiddled with his jeans buttons until he finally opened them. At the same time, his shoes were torn apart from the swelling feet and fell to the ground, allowing his toes to spread out in all their glory.

Once Greg had managed to peel off his constricting pants and shook off the remains of his shoes, he could see his body changing in almost full glory. The only garment still on his body was his underwear, but that was tented to the breaking point now. His cock was throbbing like mad, coating his underwear with copious amounts of pre-cum, and with each throb, the magnificent manly rod grew even bigger. It was almost as big as James' cock already and wasn't finished yet.

At the same time, the rest of his body was continuing to bulk up. His backside was expanding, with his butt cheeks bulging out and filling the behind of his boxer shorts to the breaking point as well. All over his limbs, dark and curly hair was sprouting, adding an animalistic appeal. Especially his now enormous armpits filled out with hair and sweat, adding to the quickly evolving smell of manly musk and sexual urges in the room.

When Greg looked up, he saw that the same was happening to his other friends. Their bodies were expanding in size, gaining more muscle and more body hair. Their chests were filling out, their nipples becoming hard, dark nubs in the middle of a sea of hair. Before long, the small shop was filled with a group of hairy Arabs, and their combined smell and urges. It was getting harder and harder for Greg to restrain himself. He didn't recognize any of his friends anymore, and the blue smoke was the only thing setting James apart, who was licking his lips now. Even Kit had changed again and was now one of the similar looking but not identical Arabs in the room. His cock throbbed and Greg felt the testosterone surging in him. Fuck this. He *needed* to breed!

He growled and ripped off the underwear, and his cock finally sprang free, bouncing a little before resting, proud and hard, pointing up at the ceiling. It was the biggest and thickest cock Greg had seen in his life, and his balls, swinging below were heavy weight of their own. Still, in this room, the massive tool was about average. Everyone was more than well-endowed, and Greg couldn't wait to sink his cock into one of the beefy asses available or feel one of his friends' rods up his own. The situation grew tenser by the second, and he could already see one of the men make out with James, the genie. That must be Kit! Greg thought and smiled. He'd always been a little slutty.

Greg was getting impatient, too, though, and the lust and testosterone inside of him was making him lose his mind. He grabbed the nearest Arab and bent him over, exposing a deliciously hairy hole that was just begging to be bred. Greg didn't hold back and immediately plunged his rock hard member into the man, not caring which one of his former friends it was.

Before long, the room was filled with animalistic grunts and moans from men unhinged. Cocks were shoved up asses, and hands were jerking off the men who were lucky enough to be taken. It didn't take long for the first load of cum to spurt onto the carpet, followed by the next and the next. Soon, the air was thick with the smell of Arabian sex, and the sounds of pleasure.

As he thrust into the tight ass he had claimed, Greg couldn't remember a time when he was more aroused. The ass around his cock felt like it was made to be bred by him, and the sound of balls slapping against butt was the most satisfying thing he ever heard. He didn't know if the guy was still there mentally or not, but it didn't matter. He had an ass, and Greg had a cock, and that was all there was.

The orgy continued until the morning sun rose above the antiquity shop. Kit was exhausted as he looked around. It wouldn't be long until his grandmother came in, and probably would die from a heart attack. Valuable vases were shattered by the masculine bodies slammed against them, and furniture broken.

James looked spent, too, but content, when Kit cleared his throat.

"Honey, could you do something about this mess?"

James looked over to his lover and smiled as he snapped his finger.

"Of course, my dear. Your wish is my pleasure."

James didn't turn anyone back, of course. Wish is wish, after all. Every single one of them was now a constantly horny Arab for life. It wasn't a bad life, though, especially for Kit. Having a genie for a boyfriend certainly had its perks.

Thank you so much again! I'm already looking forward to the next special!

Oh, and since some of you asked: Of course, I will only write one sequel, this one here. However, seeing how popular the second place was, I might write another story that is suspiciously similar and in the spirit of "Calling the plumber", too ;-).

#male transformation #straight to gay #racial transformation #musk #muscle transformation

[chrollohearttags]

nsfw alphabet • ace: anal training

anal play, sex toys, oral sex, spit play, choking, backshots, creampie, squirting

word count: 2.4K

📝: reposting bc why not? as you can see, this is a lil mini series I’m doing with all my fav eaters characters. if this flops, it never happened and I’m never posting again lmao

ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :

“What the fuck is this?”

Blurting out almost instantaneously as you stumbled into a laugh. Brandishing the tiny red box in your hand, you’d remove the contents and spin it around between your fingertips. “It’s a gift for you..do you like it?” Your fiancé couldn’t have been more unserious at the moment but something told you by that dumb ass grin and smug look plastered across his face, he was very much so! “It’s certainly..a gift. Are you trying to tell me something?..” “I mean, you’d look so pretty in it…and maybe I wanna try a little something new. What do you think?”

Manspread on the couch, subtly rubbing his own thigh as to quell his obvious hard on, Ace would flash you that smile once more, in hopes of softening you and getting his lady on board with this idea. The ‘new thing’ in question was none other than some exploration of the other end, in other words, anal sex..which, to be fair, wasn’t exactly level five, uncharted territory you’d never cross. It was just more so something the two of you had never done before and needless to say, he was excited to give it a go. “You mean to tell me you’ve never thought about it?” The thought of claiming that part of your body excited Ace..the prospect of exploring every hole all at once had him ready to pounce right now but he’d bide his time. “Because I have…a lot.” You two had been in candid talks of different things you’d wanted to try in the bedroom. Not so much from a lack of excitement but just seeing what you guys enjoyed and didn’t. You’d been testing out different kinks here and there and it had done wonders for your already exciting sex life. “Well it’s not like it’s at the forefront of my brain but..I heard it feels really good.” From being tied up to using food and ice on each other. There was no limit as to what you’d do. Twisting around on your fingertips was the red jeweled butt plug he’d purchased for you to wear. In the same bag, there were anal beads, lube and a dildo. All of which he planned to use. “I mean, it is cute….” Eventually, that gap of space closed between the two of you and your hand was resting on that very thigh, trailing its way up to his growing erect as you leaned in to subtly kiss him. Your faces eventually met for a few light pecks and he’d gloss over your cheek with his thumb. “Then I take that as a yes.” He’d all but tried to tug you into his lap and caress those beautiful legs..he had a feeling that the two of you were going to have tons of fun with this! “You’re a freak, you know that?” “I know..exactly why you’re marrying me. Am I right?”

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“Oh fuuuck…just like that, baby. Suck me up.” It wasn’t even a full two hours later before his obscene wish was granted. Sprawled out across the king size bed, limbs splayed to every side..he’d lie there in utter pleasure and awe as (y/n)’s mouth engulfed him whole. You’d circulate your tongue and swirl it around on his cock, going from the tip to the base as your hands remained planted on either side of him. Your eyes sharply focused on his reactions and loving each one. That thick, plump ass was arched in the air, subtly bouncing in rhythm with your sloppy throat fucking. In between those round cheeks? Resided that plug that was getting you acclimated to what was headed your way. That tight little hole sucking on the metal and conforming to its shape. For now, you were making sure he was well aroused and lubricated, thanks to your incredible skills. Fountains of spit drooling down the sides of your mouth and onto your exposed chest as well. Alternating between his balls and shaft; stroking him as you suckled on one and vice versa. What seemed to really drive him crazy, was when you decided to take him down your throat entirely and didn’t even gag once. Even as your forehead collided with his shapely abs. “You nasty bitch…I love you..” making you both break into a giggle because he was truly enamored with how slutty you’d get for him. He didn’t even mean to curse you in such a way, it was just how you made him react. All of the filthy thoughts that plagued his mind, you were willing to enact each one with him. Tugging you away, Ace would lean up and cup your face once you were done. “No, fuck that. I gotta have you right now..oh shit. Need to play in all those pretty holes, baby..” Shoving his tongue into your mouth to reward you for an incredible job. As much as he enjoyed your oral service, it was his turn now. In a moment of haste, he’d usher you onto your knees; ass poking up in the air and face planted into the mattress. That’s when he’d saddle behind you. Hands gripping the fat of that round bottom and squeezing before planting hard, sharp smacks across the cheeks. He was so erect, it was taking all of his restraint not to bottom you out right now. But first, he had to get a taste of his own..

“Look at that..you took it so well, sweetheart..” Growling as he spreads you open yet again. This time, he’d allow a trail of saliva to seep down to that puckering entrance. You’d whimper at the sensation and nuzzle your face deeper into that pillow whilst he worked you over with that plug; pulling and tugging at it just to see your reactions. That’s when he’d clutch your throat, forcing your head back as he thrusted the little metal bud in and out, getting you used to the feeling of being penetrated there..

“Eyes up here...I can’t wait to see that pretty face when I fuck this tight little asshole..gonna make you feel so good, baby. I swear..” sucking his teeth as he forced you to maintain your arch, as well as that gaze. Your expression had gone all but dumb and blank..drool seeping down your chin and a smile on your lips. “Can I do that? Hmm? Can I make my babygirl feel good?” Cooing to you in that tone that always wore you down, even in your most defiant and bratty state. He’d stroke your cheek lovingly before popping a thumb between your lips in between soft kisses to your temple. “Yes, daddy..fuck my ass, please..” giving him the one response that always made him go weak. Hearing you utter the name made him melt instantaneously.

“..shit…that’s a good girl.” Removing that thumb, he’d pat your cheek and tell you to return to your original position. That’s when he’d take his place behind you, mounted with your cheeks in his grasp. Keeping you exposed, he’d remove that plug entirely and lower his head until he replaced it with that of his tongue. Prodding around and poking it in and out of that tight entrance. He loved the way you tasted..wanting to lap and lick on every inch of your perfect body. Meanwhile, that sopping cunt was dripping underneath you and furthering your bliss, he’d trace tiny circles around that clit; even shoving a digit inside of your pussy whilst he spat down onto your asshole, still devouring it as if it were nothing. Fingering you simultaneously. “Mmmmph! Fuck…that feels so good.” “I can tell..look how wet you are, babe. Creaming all over my fingers..” exclaiming as he pushed them in and out..still licking around the perimeter of your exposed entrance. He wasn’t shy about it either. He was practically tongue fucking your hole and enjoying every moment of it. Hearing you cry out and curse, watching you writhe…every reaction turned him on more than the next. Not to mention how much you were gushing.

“Just like that..thrust that ass back on my face. Let me know how much you love it.” Chuckling before feeding you more of those heavy handed slaps. He was relentless. You’d subtly twerk as he wrangled his head around, slurping and lapping at that tight hole. “Ace, please….” He could tell by your whimpers and needy expressions what had to be done. Reluctantly parting ways with your tender spot, he’d mark it with one last flick and leave a kiss on your supple cheek..reaching down to stroke his shaft as he prepared to take the next step. He was going to give you the very thing you had been craving..

“Alright, baby..I guess you’ve earned it. Spread that ass open. Let’s see how good you take me..

planting another hard slap against your ass, he’d instruct you yet again to hold yourself open. That fluttering hole was aching for him and begging to be filled. That tip of his was glowing red and leaking precum as he mounted behind you. “Yeah, keep that arch for me, princess. Just like that.” Licking his palm, Ace rubbed it in his hand slowly and massaged his cock head before poking it at your entrance. He knew you were needy but he’d never seen you so desperate before. So desperate to be full of him. Asking you once more, he’d ease himself in and try to maintain his composure..

“Fuuuck..”

the expletive leaving his lips almost immediately. That initial sensation was almost too much for him to bare but he’d persist, as this was all of his own volition. After all, he had been begging to claim this part of you and now that he had it, he better had known what to do with it. From the moment he slid in, you began to drool and your eyes began to dilate. Rolling to the back of your head immediately.. “..so fucking tight..oh my god..you feel amazing..” his voice almost drunken with lust for you. Tossing his head back; rolling them onto his shoulders, Ace shifted his hips to establish a position and pace once and for all.. “..damn, I gotta start moving, baby. Are you okay?” “Y-yes..please.” And with that, he’d start thrusting, going a bit faster and a little deeper..just so you both could become acclimated with the feeling. It was a lot admittedly, but the feeling was almost euphoric. Nothing like either you had ever experienced. “Oh my god, that feels so good..” your little entrance constantly sucking him in. By this time, he was buried halfway into you..the tip prodding at your sensitive core and causing your legs to tremble. You could no longer hold that stance but you were slowly beginning to meet his strokes with the subtle bounce of your ass. It was so round and thick, it nearly swallowed him whole. And doused in that oil, he could barely take it. Between both, he was having a hard time staying on rhythm. With a hand placed into the small of your back, Ace watched as both holes spread and gripped with each movement he made. “Yesss, baby..fuck this ass..you’re so fucking deep in me..” whimpering and crying out as he kept going. He’d begin to speed up and feed you deeper thrusts, egged on by your sweet moans. But this subtly wasn’t going to suffice any longer. You were both in need of a little more..you needed him to truly stretch you out!

Yeah? Then take this dick..keep throwing it back on me—“ but alas, you’d do him one better and begin looking back at him as you rode him. Flattening yourself against the mattress to garner leverage. “Oh shit..and that pretty face too? You’re gonna get all this cum, baby. I swear..” you had obviously worn him down and it was apparent by the tremble in his voice that your fiancé was not going to last much longer at this rate. You certainly didn’t help matters any when you began calling him daddy again and begging to fill you up. “That’s what you want? For me to come in you..fill this hole up?” Nodding, you answer his question but it wasn’t a proper response in his opinion. So to up the ante, he’d grasp your throat and tug your head back as those thrusts became a little sharper. He had begun to pound you as that hole became good and accustomed to his cock being in it. You’d never been so stimulated before in your life and before long, you’d reach your orgasm too. Barreling out in the form of rapid spurts of juices from your pussy. “Oh fuck! Yes…I’m coming!” although he too was reaching his peak, he couldn’t help but to tease you. “Such a cute little slut..coming from getting fucked in your ass. I love you..” having to chuckle as the prospect up getting to defile you like this for eternity crossed his mind. It was inevitable at this point. You’d already reached your breaking point and was only being held up by that clutching hand around your throat and his tender kisses. He could no longer sate his ravenous desire for you nor could he hold his climax. Those fat, swollen balls smacked up against your clit with much veracity and with those tears gliding down your face, Ace would capture you in another sloppy peck to quell those cries.

“I know, sweetheart. I know…I’m so fucking close. Give me one more and I’ll give you what you want. Same time.” Coaxing you on for another orgasm and like clockwork, you didn’t hold back. You’d find yourself twitching and writhing on his cock as it remained nestled inside of you. As promised, you’d feel the sharp thrusts reach their plateau and then…

“Oh..haaa—fuuuuuck! Fuck..me..”

those loud grunts filled the air as his seed filled your hole, leaving you stuffed to the brim. It were almost as if you had broken him after that. He’d beg to stay in it for just a few more moments but when he finally found the strength to pull out, the sight before him was beautiful. You’d reach back one last time and part yourself open for him. He was proud to have claimed you in such a way..panting and heaving, Ave would chuckle at his handiwork and reward you with one last kiss.

“Damn…we definitely have to do that more often.”

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@greenieweeniesworld @spaceforher @wintrrxxo @rnvsxo

#cherry’s works ✦⭒ #one piece #one piece x black!reader #one piece x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d ace x reader #ace x black reader #ace x reader #ace x y/n #portgas d ace x black reader #black fem reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x y/n #portgas ace smut #portgas ace x you #ace one piece #fire fist ace #ace fanfic #ace smut #one piece smut #op smut #black reader #one piece au #one piece modern au #firefighter au #firefighter ace #one piece ace #one piece headcanons #one piece fanfiction #cw smut

[ihavethedreamies]

Oasis | S.Coups

Choi Seungcheol (S.Coups - Seventeen)

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~4.6k

Pairing: S.Coups x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Sci-Fi AU!, Reader-Insert, Smut, Some Plot, Hookup/One-Night-Stand/Strangers to Fucking

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Violence (mentions of weapons, but nothing else), Pet Names (Doll, Sweetheart, Princess, Pumpkin, etc.), Daddy Kink (as required by law), Swearing, Kissing, Thigh-Riding, Cockwarming, Couch Sex, Slight Breathplay, Soft Dom! S.Coups, Unprotected Sex (Use a condom!), He's got some ~fancy~ tattoos ;)

Author's Note: Okay this one was…normally I can stay calm writing, but not for a Scoops. He's just so fucking hot…

-> Hoshi's <-

-> Woozi's <-

-> Wonwoo's <-

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

The only problem with being in a small village in the middle of the desert is there were very few places to hide. You turned a corner around a sandstone building into an alleyway. Luckily, there was a pile of crates with a small enough hole for you to hide. Crawling into the space, you tried to stay as quiet as possible while also catching your breath. You worried your panting would be too loud. You clutched your bag close to you, not wanting to lose the contents again. Having found what seems to be an extremely valuable artifact, you had tried desperately to get it back after it had been stolen. You had reported the chunk of crystal to the Assembly and they said it was possibly valuable enough to bring to headquarters. Though, while you were camping out, about a third of the way through a four-day journey, your camp was ransacked, and your crystal stolen. You followed the thieves that turned out to essentially be a gang, and you took it back. They had found you though and had been chasing you for a good hour. They obviously understood the crystal's value if they were pursuing you so intently. Peaking around the crates, you saw a few of the goons run down the street past the alley, but you weren't brave enough to get away yet.

"Fuck!" You shrieked, a hand having grabbed your braid at the base, hauling you out of your hiding hole. Your hands grappled at his, trying to get him to let you go, legs scrambling on the ground.

"You stupid bitch-" He grumbled, yanking your hair harder till you fell back against his legs.

"Where's the rock?" He snapped and you just glared up at him, not wanting him to realize if you looked at your bag. You grunted at the tug on your hair, but immediately stopped wiggling when you felt something metal press against your neck.

"If I get this back from you, the boss might just promote me-"

"Kind of hard to get a promotion with an extra hole in your head." A new voice spoke and you could feel the gangster freeze behind you, the knife pressed to your neck retreating slightly. You assumed this new man had pressed his own weapon, a blaster most likely, against the guy's head.

"Drop the knife." This new man's voice was steady, strong, and you felt safe already. You heard the blade clatter on the ground, and the hold on your braid released, so you scrambled away from the gangster. Instead of going forward, you basically crawled around and behind the aggressor, and stopped once you were safely behind your rescuer. Just from behind, you could tell he was strong, his bare arms showed his biceps were nearly as big as your thigh, maybe bigger. Smooth geometric tattoos painted his arms, looking similar to a circuit board. His hair was bright red, slicked back just enough to keep the longer strands out of his face, the ends resting just above his shoulders. He had a belt strapped around his torso over his vest, various things attached to it along with several ammo cartridges. Another strap around one of his thick thighs had the holster for his blaster and his pants were tucked into a pair of knee-high combat boots.

"Now screw off before you can't." The man pulled his blaster away, but literally kicked the guy's ass, sending him onto his face a few feet forward. The gangster scrambled to his feet and fled. Once he was gone, the man before you turned around finally and your breath left you right after you had caught it back. He was fucking gorgeous. You wondered if the slit in his eyebrow was from a scar, or just for looks, it was hard to tell in the dark light.

"Are you okay, doll?" He kneeled in front of you, even like that you felt tiny…Tinier than usual. You wondered if he could see your reddened face in the low light.

"Y-yes." You nodded, letting him wrap his hands around your arms to help you stand up. Your own hands went to his biceps, trying hard not to squeeze to test the muscle there, and your shaking legs finally got you up. You wished he didn't have the leather gloves on so you could feel more of his bare skin on yours. After you were both up, the top of your head only reached his chin, and he smelled good-

"Why were they after you?" he asked and you had to step back to look at him even with your head tipped up.

"Uh…" You weren’t sure if he was trustworthy, even if he saved you. Maybe he just wanted the crystal for himself…

"It's okay, doll. I'm a Ranger." He pulled the chain around his neck up and out of his shirt, an upside-down triangle-like designed pendant on the end. You recognized it, and the title, so you relaxed. They were basically freelance, vigilante, bounty-hunter guys. They would help people in need and take out or get criminals without having to worry about legal red tape. It was an elite group, and their identities were not widely known. Sighing in relief at the news, you opened your satchel and pulled the crystal out. It wasn't refined and it was pretty heavy. You handed the rock to him and he looked it over, holding it easily with one hand while he holstered his blaster. The thin but tight black shirt he had on under his utility vest struggled over his chest as he did so, when he spoke you finally brought your attention away.

"This is a diamond, doll." He smiled and your jaw dropped. No wonder it was so valuable. That would make sense why the Assembly Headquarters wanted it, they had the largest bank on the planet.

"Seriously?"

"Yep." He once again held the gem in one hand, pulling a device out of a pocket of his utility belt. The Ranger clicked the end against the gem and looked at the panel on the side as the device beeped.

"About 13 hundred carats." He smirked, arching one of his thick eyebrows.

"Where'd you find this?"

"I'm a Scavenger, so I look for scrap and crashed ships or satellites. This was in some wreckage out near Dekkos." you told him, a bit surprised he handed the gem back to you.

"Are you bringing it to the capital?"

"Yes."

"You will probably have more of those gangsters plus anyone else who finds out after you, why don't I escort you?"

"You would do that?"

"Of course, doll. I'm Seungcheol, but my team calls me S.Coups."

"S.Coups?" you questioned and he chuckled, a bit embarrassed.

"Uh, the S is for Seungcheol, and then coups like coup-d'état."

"You overthrow someone?"

"Well, kind of. Our first mission was to get a corrupt mayor out of power, so…" He smiled, somehow his extremely handsome face looked cute.

"Are you sure you don't mind escorting me?"

"I told you," he leaned forward so he was more eye level, "of course I don't mind."

"Can I call you Cheol?" you asked him, his name was kind of long and you weren't sure about his nick name…

"Of course, doll. What do I call you?" You told him your name in response and when he said it with a smile, your ovaries exploded.

"I know its late, but I was planning on getting to the next town over, it's about an hour, is that okay?" he asked you as you followed him to the main street and toward the edge of the village. You had wrapped the diamond up in a head scarf you had and tucked it back in your satchel. Cheol suggested you grab your stuff from your rover and leave it for the time being, since more goons might know it's yours. He wouldn't even let you carry your own bag.

"That diamond is enough for you to carry, (Y/N)." When you got to his own rover, you halted in shock. Not only was it new, but it was a really nice model too. Yours was nearly thirty years old and was not exactly top of the line, even new.

"Oh, this belongs to the whole group. I just have it most of the time since I'm the leader."

"You're the leader?" You hadn't known that.

"Well, kind of. I'm co-commander along with Woozi." He opened the passenger door for you and you climbed up onto the wheel and into the rover. The seats were nice, and actually seats versus what looked like a restaurant booth. The inside panels were just a flat holo-screen, and it even had heating. Your rover only had air-conditioning, so at night it could be kind of cold. You asked him a series of questions as you drove to the next town, and he answered each one humbly. Your eyes kept flitting to his hands on the steering wheel, then up his arms and traced every line of his tattoos, to his side profile-

"Your eyes might burn me, doll." He tried not to smirk, casting you a knowing side glance. You floundered for an excuse.

"Its fine, sweetheart." Seungcheol rested back in the seat and you shuffled in your own seat, your face not the only part of you heating up. By the time you reached the next town, all you wanted to do was get in bed, and maybe get him inside you…

"Do you mind sharing a hotel room, I can keep you safer that way." His suggestion was genuine, truly just wanting to protect you. And you were more than willing.

"That's fine!" Seungcheol smirked, walking past you into the hotel, one much nicer than the inns or motels you usually stayed at. You cringed at your own eagerness, following after him with your head bowed in embarrassment.

"Can we get a suite with two bedrooms?" He pulled his credit chit out, the hotelier tapped on her console telling you there was one available on the fifth floor. You watched her as she worked, and she kept looking up at Seungcheol and all over him. She wasn't blind, you didn’t blame her. He took the room and you balked at the price.

"Don't worry, doll." He cast you a gentle smile, so you didn't. Judging by his rover, even if he claimed it was the whole group's, he had money to spare. You followed after him, casting a glance back at the hotelier who was glaring at you. Wanting to stick your tongue out at her like a child, you restrained yourself and waited for the elevator with him. Right as the lift was reaching the ground floor, a group of about seven entered and headed toward the elevators as well. Because of this, the lift was full, and you pressed your small self into the corner, Seungcheol working as a barrier between you and the group of men that had entered as well. You doubted they even knew you were there. They had left the button pressed for the fifth floor, and you both waited for them to get out, then headed in the opposite direction. He tapped the clear card against the lock and it dinged, opening with a click. He carried both of your bags in and you looked around the suite in awe, never having stayed somewhere so nice.

"I'm going to shower quick." Seungcheol deposited your bag in one of the bedrooms and headed toward the other. There was a bathroom attached to each room and so you followed suit. Only taking a rinse off since you had showered the night before, you found yourself watching some show on the couch. You had changed into shorts and a tank instead of your leather leggings and vest. Your knees were pulled to your chest, feet resting on the cushion, and you were really trying to focus on the show. It was so hard though to not think of him in the shower. He was too freaking hot and there was only a door in between you and him. Naked.

"Fucking fuck…" You huffed at yourself, trying to snap out of your pervy thoughts, but it was futile. Especially since he had just come out in nothing but his pants. At least he wasn't just in a towel, but his muscular and toned body was perfectly on display. He had more of the circuit-like tattoos curling up over his shoulders and down his chest and sides of his stomach. You had noticed earlier not only were his arms and thighs thick, but he had a butt too. Fuck. He saw you gaping at him, it was kind of hard not to. It was like you had zoned out…or in rather, on him and he huffed a laugh, a bit embarrassed. However, he felt more smug than anything and his own eyes flicked over your mostly bare legs and the low cut of your tank. He would be lying if he said he wasn't just as attracted to you as you seemed to be to him. It was up to you make a move though… When you snapped out of it and your eyes met his, he was smirking and hummed with an inquisitive tone.

"Yes?" He teased and you choked on your saliva some, eyes flitting back over his bare chest.

"You curious?" You nodded dumbly.

"Come here, then." Seungcheol smiled and he nearly guffawed at how fast you leaped off the couch, but you approached much slower. You stopped right before him, hand coming up and hovering over his skin. You flitted your gaze up to his face and he nodded, taking a sip out of the bottle he was holding. As soon as your fingertips met his warm skin, the other hand flew up and you brought them down to rest on his abs.

"Fucking hell." You whispered and he really tried not to laugh, but you could feel his chest rumble a bit. Tracing each curve and angle of the tattoos snaking over him, you noticed they seemed to let out a slight reddish glow, lagging behind your tracing fingers over the black lines. Your mouth was hung open as you touched him like he was the best thing you had ever had the pleasure of touching, and he smirked harder. Getting annoyed with his smugness, even though it was warranted and caused by you, you dug your dull nails in a bit and scratched down. Seungcheol sighed, a low groan rumbling out after and your cunt clenched around nothing.

"What-?!" You squeaked as he crouched a bit, wrapping one around your upper thighs under your butt, and easily lifted you up against his shoulder. He carried you over to the couch, his bottle still in his hand and you wondered if he could hear your heart pounding. He could probably also feel your wet leaking through your panties and shorts.  You glanced down and saw that the tattoos were on his back too. The man sat on the couch, adjusting you on his lap so you were straddling one of his thighs. You nearly whined, having to spread your legs pretty wide to accommodate, and you could feel the hard muscle through his pants. While they weren't super tight, with how he was sitting, the stretched over his thigh just right. He smirked again as he took another drink, your shorts so thin he could feel your pussy clench as you settled.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, doll?" Your fingers were lazily and lightly rubbing over his skin, it tickled a bit. Those tattoos definitely shimmered when you touched them…

"Can I ride your thigh?" Your voice was so soft that despite how close you were, he almost didn't hear you.

"You want that, sweetheart?"

"Yes, -dy." He barely heard the last part, your face blossoming red when you let the word slip, eyes widening in panic. Seungcheol groaned when he heard it, adjusting his footing and bounced his leg under you a bit, forcing it up and against your needy cunt.

"You wanna ride daddy's thigh, pumpkin?"

"Fuck, yes please~" You gasped, but held back from moving, nodding.

"Go ahead, then." He took a casual sip from the bottle, glancing over your shoulder at the TV like he was actually focusing on it. He licked his lips, swallowing a chuckle when you began to grind down onto his leg, so hard he felt your pulse from your core. Your little mewls grew louder when you leaned forward, losing strength in the rest of your body, resting your forehead on his collarbone. Your fingers dug into the waist of his pants on either side of you, getting closer and closer. While Cheol had his number of sexcapades, he had never had a girl be this eager to fuck herself on his leg. Most of the time he was worried if they would find out he didn't, by any means, mind getting called daddy. You were the first one though to jump on it immediately, and with no hint or prompting from him. He was thanking fate that he was the one that rescued you.

"I'm-" You gasped, your hips stuttering.

"Close, pumpkin?" He finally put the bottle down, his arm curling around your waist, helping you keep your rhythm. His face got close to yours, so much so your lips were barely touching and he swallowed your moan, invading your mouth with his tongue. You fell apart then, whining as he helped you ride out your high, catching every little noise you made with his lips. Your head was swimming, you nearly gasped for air when he left the kiss. Your panties were sticking to your even wetter folds, and he could feel that your slick had soaked through his pants too.

"Did a good job, sweetheart."

"Thanks, daddy." It seemed you were a bit shy with the daddy-kink play, but you had started it.

"What now, doll?" Your eyes met his, unsure with what answer he wanted.

"What do you want me to do to you now?" He arched a brow and your mind ran rampant with all the possibilities.

"W-what do you want to do?" You threw the question back and he tilted his head in thought, humming. You could feel that his cock had gotten hard against your knee, your mouth watered when you glanced down at the tent pitched, wondering just how big he really was.

"What if…" As he spoke, his hand drifted from your hip, over your ass, and into the back of your shorts. You moaned when his fingers hit your soaking cunt, lightly circling the pad over your entrance.

"…you sit on my cock and we watch a movie?" His suggestion took you a second to piece together. Cockwarming? Fuck, yes PLEASE.

"O-okay." You nodded and his hand withdrew. He easily moved you to turn around and assisted with getting your shorts and panties off. Cheol adjusted his position and you rested against his chest, reaching down to release his cock from his pants. Your eyes widened, breath hitching when your hand met the flesh, finally getting him out to see what you had to work with. You were going to get split in half, and you couldn't be more excited.

"Daddy~" You whined, head falling back onto his shoulder, your nose brushing over the side of his throat.

"Can you take it, pumpkin?" He stroked the soft skin under your belly button, the sensation made you shiver, already sensitive.

"Yes."

"Yes…?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl." You sat up a bit more, propping your hips up as he guided the tip of his fat cock to your glistening folds. A bit concerned when you let out a small choking noise, it soon faded into a moan, which rose into a whine as he sank deeper and deeper. You thought he would be in your throat by the time he was all the way in. Your tight core fluttered around his cock, the delicious burn of the stretch bringing you dangerously close to another orgasm already. When he had about another inch to go, you lost your strength. You slumped back into him, gravity pulling you the rest of the way done so his cock buried in completely. Your cunt twitched along with the rest of you, trying to adjust to the stretch and the intense pleasure it caused. If you were already so sensitive, he wondered how bad you would get after sitting on his cock for a good hour.

"Hm, so good, sweetheart. Taking daddy's cock like a pro." His groan rumbled through him and over you, his strong arms wrapping over you to hold you up and to him. After about five minutes, your brain started to function a bit more, and you tried to get more comfortable on his lap as he started something you really cared not for. It wasn't what the movie was, but you could only think of him splitting you open and his bare chest pressed to your back. You had your legs spread wide over his lap, knees over his so he could easily hold them open for you. Every few minutes, your whole body twitched from the pleasure, your breath shuddering, trying not to move. You really were a princess, more like a queen, taking his huge cock so good and sitting still so obediently. He had to push away the thought of immediately taking you as his wife, but man did he want to. Have you whenever he wanted…

"D-daddy…!" You gasped, cunt clenching hard suddenly and he huffed as you came, not having moved for the last half hour. He wondered how that was possible, and so did you. Seungcheol had to be a drug itself, because you were already addicted. You needed him so bad-

"Fuck, hold on…" He grunted, shutting the TV off and wrapping his arms around you tighter, hand on your opposite hip and the other across your chest so his hand could rest under your jaw. He splayed his legs better, sliding down the couch a bit to get better leverage, and your nails quickly dug into the back of the couch to prepare. He gave a shallow but hard thrust and you squealed, releasing babbles as he fucked up into you. Each thrust shattered pleasure through your body, his skin getting hotter against yours. Moreso than was natural, and you realized you could feel the pattern of the marks covering his torso with the heat. They must have been some kind of cybernetics…

"Want more, princess?" He rumbled and you whined an affirmation, his thrusts still hard but too shallow. You didn’t want to be able to walk the next three days… The hand he had on your hip shifted so he splayed his fingers over your lower stomach, index and middle fingers resting in a V right around where he had his cock inside of you. His other hand your jaw moved down to your collarbone, lying over the top of your chest, his pinky slightly under the hem of your tank. The heat of his tattoos increased, and suddenly it was like every one of your nerves was set on fire. He froze his pace, grunting as your cunt clenched harder as you came again already, soaking down his balls and over his pants. He chuckled as your core pulsed over and over, seeming to never end. You nearly blacked out, gasping for breath and wondering what the hell that was.

"W-what?"

"I can use these to affect the nerves of people. I use it to knock out targets, or to ease the pain of someone I’m helping. Can make you real sensitive…" He hummed by your ear, his teeth nibbling on the ridge.

"Where do you want daddy to fuck you next, doll?" You nearly didn't register his question, still trying to find your place in reality.

"Bed…" You knew it was cliché, but…

"Of course, sweetheart." He sat all the way up, the position change shifting him inside you and you gasped, whining in disappointment as he pulled you off his cock. Just as easily as he lifted you before, you carried you to his room, grabbing the end of the duvet and easily pulling the whole thing off, letting it float to the floor. Resting you down like you were as delicate as a flower, you sighed at the cool fabric hitting your back. Seungcheol kissed the corner of your mouth, and you tried to follow his lips, but they left yours, moving down your jaw and to your neck. Letting him move you, he brought on of your thighs to his hip, slinging your other knee over his elbow. Your cunt eagerly sucked his cock back inside and you whimpered as he slowly bottomed out. Giving you just a second to adjust, he leaned down and kissed you again. You mewled, your knee resting over his shoulder more than his elbow, the other leg wrapping over his hip as tight as you could manage. A trail of saliva connected your lips when he finally pulled his tongue out of your mouth.

"Ready, pumpkin?"

"Yes, daddy!" You squeaked in delight as he started to move, immediately barreling his fat cock into you, the head battering your cervix. His pace was so intense, your wet dripped over his groin and down your butt to land on the sheets. It must have been an extremely secure bed frame, because it only shifted a bit despite his powerful thrusts. You couldn't even make little noises, your mouth hung open in a silent moan, drool spilling out of the corner of your mouth. You were so fucked out and he wanted to keep you like that from then on. Always drunk on him…

"So fucking good…" He chuckled, hand gripping your leg at his hip, easily slinging your other leg over his shoulder, folding you in half. You saw stars, the first thrust at the new angle fucked another climax out of you, your cunt squirting and creaming his cock even more and he grunted at the tightness. His tattoos started to heat up again, you could feel the change on the back of your thighs where he pressed down into you. Not sure what sensation he was going to surge you into, you couldn't get ready. The same intense arousal sensitivity started to rise again, but something else hit you. A slight tightening at your neck, but his hands were nowhere near. It was very slight and it didn't restrict your oxygen at all, just giving you a dull squeeze in the best way. Your gasps were from the intensity of your pleasure rather than the press of your throat. Then, your senses shifted, your vision blurred and it seemed like you could only hear the woosh of your pulse and his grunts. You felt his skin on yours hotter than before, his cock seemed hotter too, and the scent of sex intensified. When his mouth went back to yours, it was like you could taste his tongue, taste him even more and his groan vibrated your tongue wrapped around his. Without warning, the heat spiked, and your eyes rolled back in your head. His hot cum pumped into you, your own final orgasm hitting you, rolling over and over, dulling before reigniting into another full climax. The heat of his cum spilling out from where he was inside you seemed to sear over your skin and when he had stopped, your senses returned to normal and it was like someone threw cold water on you. Your hearing returned to normal, and you could hear the noise of the street again. You finally registered that he had pulled away from the kiss, hovering over you with a smile. Not a smirk. You could barely get anything out but a whine.

"Did daddy fuck you good, doll?" You nodded lazily and he laughed, kissing you again.

-> Hoshi's <-

-> Woozi's <-

-> Wonwoo's <-

Masterlist

#ihavethedreamies #kpop #kpop smut #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic #x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen #svt #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen scoups #svt scoups #scoups #scoups smut #choi seungcheol

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part 14

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader Summary: Miguel continues to try and move forward with subtle changes in his life. He has some reflections about life and you. You cross paths with an old friend from the past. A rainy night at Miguel's penthouse. Word Count: 28K Warnings: This chapter takes place over the span of three days; Reader feels anxious and nerves; Miguel is so supportive here I want to give him a big kiss and hold his pinky finger until I fall asleep; Miguel Previous Part MasterlistMusic Inspo (You can find the official Spotify playlist for the fanfic here) "Adonis and Amara" - Ludwig Göransson "Ab Ovo" - Joep Beving "You Could Start A Cult" - Niall Horan "To My Son" - Daniel Pemberton "quiero sentirme bien" - Kali Uchis (thank you to the reader that suggested this song to me a while back) "Can I Call You Rose?" - Thee Sacred Souls "El Muchacho de los Ojos Tristes" - Jeanette (thank you to the reader that said this song reminded them of Miguel and reader, I've been thinking about it ever since and 😭😭 I love this song sm, so it was perfect)

Enjoy and thank you for reading!! 🫶🏼❤️

Part 15

Miguel places two mugs of café de olla on a tray, steam rises into the air, reaching his nose. It’s one of those evenings in which you have both gone separate ways after dinner to give each other space. Miguel wasn’t planning on making any coffee, but he suddenly had the craving for it while he was reading in the living room, and knowing how much you love it was Miguel’s final and biggest motivation to get up from the couch and make it.

He turns to a glass dome-shaped cake stand and takes the lid off, uncovering fresh pan dulce he bought earlier for the two of you.

In a matter of seconds, Miguel has two dessert plates with pan dulce and the two mugs on the tray, along with some napkins. He doesn’t want to intrude on your space, so his plan is simply to give it to you and leave you alone.

He knows you’re either in your bedroom or in the office upstairs, the one he’s told you numerous of times that you can use. He reenters the living room, tray in hand, ready to go upstairs but halfway through the room, his red eyes stop on one of the walls, the one next to the stairs.

He can’t help himself, so Miguel stops and admires it. For the first time since he moved into the penthouse and Gabriel and his mother decorated the place, there’s a new change to the space. To anyone, this is probably a small one, insignificant even, but to Miguel, it’s a large change and one that warms his heart.

The once empty and vacant wall is now decorated with some photographs and not just simple, plain standard ones, like those that can be found on other walls around the penthouse that were once placed by Gabriel and his mother several years ago when Miguel first moved in.

No. Miguel’s living room, for the first time, is decorated with photographs of his loved ones.

It’s only been a few days since that morning on the rooftop when Miguel asked if you could help him redecorate his place, but already, this new change is a sign of it.

Together, the two of you have worked on this project over the last few days. Since he requested your help, Miguel and you have spent evenings on the living room floor, heads low and eyes focused on the tablet Miguel gifted you several months ago for Christmas while you helped him create a mood board.

“What is something you know for sure you want?” you asked him that following Saturday night, gazing at him with curiosity.

And though Miguel hadn’t thought much of it since he had only asked you the day before, he immediately had a response to your question, one inspired by you.

“This wall,” Miguel said, turning to look at it.

You nodded and gazed at it.

“A clean canvas,” you said, which made Miguel turn back to you.

He felt a sense of wonder and awe in that moment because for so long, he saw that wall, like the rest of his place, as a sign of emptiness - of the void in his life. And then, there you were, making Miguel see it in a positive light. A clean canvas, one that he can fill with happiness.

“Photographs,” Miguel said with a gentle smile. “Like, your wall with all the photographs. I’ve always liked it.”

And that was all Miguel needed to say because if he liked that aspect of your apartment, then that meant that Miguel wanted his family’s photographs in display.

The two of you spent some time shopping for picture frames, ones that go with Miguel’s new theme to begin the small project. As of now, there’s already a few adorning the once empty wall. You’ve taken a break, unwillingly, since the last few days at the Spider Society have been rather busy with anomalies causing chaos in other universes and the recruitment of new members. Due to that, Miguel and you have come home tired and with little energy to continue. Despite there only being a few photos, Miguel feels great about it.

It’s a new change.

Staring at the photos, Miguel can’t help himself from feeling like this is a new beginning. The thought scares him somewhat, his old way of thinking wants to creep back on him. The old Miguel, the one from two years ago, wouldn’t want a part of this. He would frown about this, about opening up to someone so much - about letting someone into his life, into his heart.

Shock, Miguel realizes, the old him wouldn’t even be here right now, standing in his living room holding a tray with café de olla and pan dulce for him and his best friend on a week day at 7pm. No, the old Miguel would be in the lab right now, preparing for a long night ahead of him reading data and reports through his marigold-colored screens. His red eyes would shut close for a few seconds every once in a while as an attempt to fight off sleep to avoid nightmares of Gaby. The old Miguel wouldn’t be here, right now.

Miguel wonders now, where would you be? Would he had offered his place for you to stay due to the fire at your building, even if the two of you were not close, and just mere colleagues? Would you had even accepted, or would you’ve stayed with someone else, in another universe?

These and other questions come up in Miguel’s head, going as far to the very beginning.

What if he never accepted your help to organize the lab? What if he never went to your apartment the day you were unwell? What if none of this ever happened because he didn’t allow himself to share a shred of a side of him he had kept locked away after losing Gaby that day, when everyone seemed to be unbothered by the fact that you hadn’t show up, and he was? He told himself it was merely concern for your universe - for the fate of the multiverse - but he realizes now more than ever, that his caring side had slipped from his grasp unknowingly that day. What if he had realized it, that he was not only concerned about the multiverse, but also about the young woman that failed to show up that day because it seemed so unlike her to not show up on time, to not give a heads up that she had something going on, and what if in realizing that he was about to let you see that side of him, what if he didn’t show up and simply had Lyla do a wellness check?

Would any of this have happened had he not made those decisions? Would it had mattered at all, or was Miguel, somehow, in a long string of loss and hurt, destined to be here, in this very moment, holding a tray with food, not just for him, but also you, his best friend?

Was it always meant to be like this, or was Miguel, for once in his life, merely granted a sliver of luck?

Miguel’s eyes turn away from one of the photos to another one, one of him and you, his best friend. The fact that he can think about it so easily, without any hesitation feels unreal. He actually admitted to you that you’re his best friend after fearing that fact for so long, and yet, his lips uttered those words only a few days ago. Not only out loud but to you, in person.

He has no regrets nor fear about it. And thankfully, Miguel thinks to himself, he also doesn’t have to live with the regret nor be haunted by those very questions - by the what if - because it’s already been done. He silently thanks something bigger than him, he’s not sure if it’s divine intervention or maybe something else, but he gives thanks nonetheless for being here now despite everything.

Miguel smiles softly at the photograph, this one being from New Year’s Eve consisting of you, Mayday, and him welcoming the new year. His gaze shifts to another one from the day he helped you put together the bookcase. There’s still more that he wishes to add of you and him, of Gabriel, Gabriella, and even his mother.

For now, however, the photos that have made it already make him happy.

There’s the photo of Gaby holding her soccer ball and smiling at the camera, her smile sweet and endearing. There’s Gabriel when he graduated from high school, his cheeky smile always present. Then, there’s one of Miguel and Gabriel after Miguel graduated from college, and of course, Gabriel had to make a silly face for it. Some of the memories make Miguel’s heart ache, for it reminds him of days when he used to have his brother around. And of course, he misses his little Gaby terribly. His gaze turns to the side, a single photo of both his mother and wife have also made it, to honor them.

Miguel’s heart aches, it does, and maybe it always will. He’s slowly begun to realize that it’ll ache in a different way, even with time. He’s learned that from you. The loss of loved ones will always hurt, but one learns to embrace the moments and the time that one had the privilege of sharing with them, and to hold on to that instead of the grief and loss. It’s how you honor them, by who they were in life and the moments they shared with us. Those are the things that one ought to hold on to when it hurts because it’s those very moments that lighten the heavy emotions.

For years, his grief and pain didn’t allow him to do such thing - to display photos of Gabriel and his mother, and with the loss of Gaby and his wife, even less - but looking at them now, Miguel is filled with a sense of warmth and happiness.

There's still loss and grief but unlike before, when that was all Miguel could feel, there's also warmth, happiness, and even more love.

It’s a small change in the large penthouse, but one that already makes the place feel much warmer, more like… a home.

Home.

With a soft sigh, Miguel smiles and continues on his mission to find you. He’s halfway up the stairs when he realizes you’re definitely in your bedroom.

Miguel briefly thinks about that - how it’s your bedroom. He used to call it Gabriel’s room, even the guest room, but now it’s your bedroom. It’s how he refers to it. Your bedroom. He knows even when you return to your universe, he’ll be referring to the room as such. As Miguel climbs the rest of the steps, he pushes away the heavy feeling that suddenly wants to spread across his chest, so he dismisses the last thought away, far from his mind. He doesn’t want to think about it.

Instead, he focuses on the now. Your bedroom door is open and light pours out onto the hallway, illuminating it. Music fills his ears and it grows louder with each step Miguel takes until his maroon eyes finally find you. You’re on the ground, your back against the bed’s side, and looking down at something - a photo album, Miguel realizes.

He gently taps the door with his foot to get your attention as he’s holding the tray with both hands, which immediately makes you look up. You greet him with a smile that only grows warmer as you spot the mugs, the kind that makes Miguel feel like it’s his reward for making the café de olla, filling him with great satisfaction.

“I hope I’m not interrupting too much,” he starts with a soft smile.

“Not at all! Come in,” you say happily, an invitation Miguel immediately accepts.

He steps in, crossing the short distance before he carefully hands you a mug. You thank him and take a small drink to avoid burning yourself before you pat the place next to you. “Would you like to sit? Unless you’re heading back downstairs?” you say looking up at him, hoping he’ll stay.

Miguel smiles. “I wouldn’t want to disturb you. You seem to be busy.”

“I’m just looking at some photos, it’s nothing too important,” you say. “I could even show you some?”

That makes Miguel smile even more.

“Alright but first, do you want some pan dulce? I bought you some,” he says placing the tray on a desk.

“You also brought pan dulce?” you say happily. “I’d love some, thank you!”

Nodding, Miguel grins and hands you a plate with a piece of bread and a napkin before he settles down next to you. You take a bite from your polvorón, a Latin shortbread cookie that Miguel is very fond of. The soft, crumbly, and sugary cookie melts in your mouth deliciously as you eat it before you take a sip of coffee. After you wipe your mouth clean with the napkin, you lift the photo album and show Miguel the page you were on. “Teenage years… Don’t judge too much,” you joke and Miguel chuckles softly.

“I would never,” he says as his red eyes take in the page, filled with curiosity and wonder to see and learn more about you. Sure enough there’s you as a teenager during some school function. He takes in every detail.

You turn the page and there’s suddenly a lot of photos of Peter and you as teenagers. You look at the pages fondly, something Miguel notices before he returns his gaze to the photos. He silently wonders if at this point the two of you were dating - a thought that reminds Miguel about how you and him have had a life before meeting each other. You’ve lived and laughed, spent days with people he’s never known - and probably never will - and that thought, for some reason, makes him feel like he’s missing something. It almost feels like Miguel longs to have been there, to have been in each other’s lives much sooner.

Miguel is in his early thirties and you’ve only been in his life for two years, a fact that suddenly feels heartbreakingly wrong to him, but if life treats him with more kindness than it has in the past, and if Miguel can help it, he’ll do his best to never push you away, so you can be a part of his life until his very last breath, whether that is tomorrow, or in forty years from now.

Miguel sighs silently as he comes to that conclusion. He’s no longer pushing anyone out of his life, especially not you, who he turns to look at now. You still have that soft look on your face as your eyes gaze at the photos.

“We were just friends at this point. He had already been at my school for a few months but we quickly became best friends and then, well, you know we started dating,” you share softly.

Miguel nods, scanning the photos. Your words settle in and just when something goes off in his head, something about your words that almost lead him to a thought, you turn the page.

“Oh, look! This is when we went on a field trip! Senior year of high school,” you tell Miguel, showing him a picture of a group of kids, Peter and you included.

Miguel blinks, unsure of what he was about to think about but now the thought is gone. He’s sure he’ll think about it later, in the future.

“Were these all your friends in high school?” he asks, tilting his head to get a better look at you and your friends.

“No, I only had two close friends, including Peter. The others were friends but in a different way. We were in clubs together and the such. I didn’t have a big friend group, you know?”

Miguel looks up at you and grins. “I was the same. Small group of friends. It was better.”

“I always thought so, too,” you reply with a grin of your own. “I guess now is the only time we have a large group of friends.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow.

“You know, the spider gang. As adults, now we have a large group of friends. I like it.” You glance down at your photo album again. “And well, we have - each other, too,” you say with a soft smile forming on your lips.

It’s been a few days since Miguel verbally admitted that you’re his best friend, and every time you think about, every time you remember him saying it - your heart races. You’re filled with happiness and pride for Miguel. You know it must have taken a lot for him to admit it, but at last, though, the two of you said it.

It’s out in the open now and ever since then, you swear something has changed. It’s like things are easier, the air is lighter. You swear Miguel has been far more playful these past few days than he was before, throwing little smiles and smirks your way.

Even members of the spider gang asked what happened because according to them, Miguel has been in a, “great mood.”

“Are you sure that’s Miguel from this universe?” Hobie asked as the two of you walked to a meeting earlier this week. “I find him more tolerable these days for some reason.”

“Hobie,” you warned him with a soft smile, though not harshly. You know Hobie and Miguel have their own dynamic, but there’s still respect. The bickering has decreased especially since Miguel and you have grown closer. Somewhat. At least, it’s more on the playful side, you think. “Of course it’s our Miguel. Why wouldn’t it be him?”

“Yeah, I know, I know. You have a sweet spot for him, and him for you,” he replied with a little smirk that you missed as you entered the room first. “Our Miguel, huh?” Hobie said with a soft hum, as if pondering something, but you didn’t have time to think about it because Miguel was already at the head of the table with two cups of coffee, one placed in front of him and the other where you’ve sat for months now, next to him. No one even tries to take your seat, even when you arrive just in time due to emergencies at your universe. It’s as if that spot is your assigned place and now no one messes with it.

Miguel smiles at your words. Yes, you have each other now, have for a while despite how long it took him to admit it. He feels a warmth spread through his chest at the thought. He finally said it, what he’s been wanting to say for so long.

Miguel’s hand closes into a soft fist while he sits next to you as he thinks about the day he admitted you’re his best friend. It was hours later at his lab when you walked out to get something that Miguel truly realized what happened. The realization of what he did rushed through him and he found himself looking at his hand, the one with which he held yours the whole night. He didn’t meant to, all he had wanted to do was his pinky hug gesture, but it seems that at some time during the night, a sleeping Miguel felt comfortable with doing more.

He felt comfortable about it even when you were both awake. He did offer his hand to help you up, didn’t he? Miguel swallows softly as he remembers this, how you declined his help as an attempt to respect his boundaries regarding physical contact, but the truth is that Miguel wanted more, even if just for a few more seconds.

He yearned for it.

He did, otherwise, he would’ve easily activated his suit to avoid direct skin to skin contact but Miguel didn’t. He kept his hand out for yours and felt it. The sensation and the thought of it stayed on his mind the whole way upstairs until he got in the shower, only for the thought to return once again hours later as the two of you hung out in the living room that evening.

The day was an interesting one in regards to sleep. You both ate and drank coffee to replenish yourselves and fight off any sleepiness during the day. You were successful and even managed to create a mood board for the penthouse that evening, sitting side by side. An hour and a half later though, the two of you fell asleep while the telenovela played in the background after you both returned to your respective couches, hoping to not fall asleep so soon. You both failed the task, though you passed out first.

Miguel remembers thinking it was expected. You stayed up far longer than he did while you watched over him. He knows that because Lyla later mentioned it in passing with a soft smirk, as if the fact was amusing. Seeing you passed out, Miguel now remembers standing up to cover you with the same blanket you shared the night before up until that early morning. He wasn’t cold himself but he thought maybe you were, so he covered your body and with a soft smile, heard you make the softest and most endearing sound of content, welcoming the warmth. It made him stand over you for a little bit, watching your sleeping form through his own sleepy red eyes, his ears capturing your gentle breathing.

After a minute or two, Miguel returned to his own couch and fell asleep within minutes, watching you through heavy eyes while the telenovela continued to play in the background. As he began to doze off, Miguel thought of the night before and how you had both fallen asleep on the ground, just a few feet away from each other. And for some reason, which he decided was exhaustion at the time, Miguel wished that night would’ve ended the same way in that moment.

Miguel’s fist uncurls as he comes back to the present, his mind running with all these thoughts and memories. He glances at you again with a warm smile, thinking about your words about having each other now. “We do. We have each other,” he says softly and before he can stop himself or truly realize what he’s about to say, a single word straight from his heart slips past his lips. “Always.”

A heartbeat later and with your own smile, you reciprocate it. “Always.”

Smiling, you stare at each other. Something in your chests is ignited, like a soft gold beam of light, glowing for each other.

Miguel’s cheeks have a gentle pink hue on them and your smile is one of shyness, so you both take a moment to drink the rich, wonderful café de olla Miguel made while that single word echoes in your minds and hearts alike. An understanding passes between you, one that requires no further explanation, for that word alone makes an intention very clear.

You both intend to stay in each other's lives for however long you can.

There will be no pushing or turning away, especially not from Miguel, who used to do that with anyone who tried to get too close.

Until you came along.

As you take another drink, you both stare at the photo album, pinky fingers silently itching for contact, but you, as always, never want to push Miguel’s boundaries, even if physical contact between you has increased over the last few months; even if he held your hand while you both slept just a few days ago. Without even trying, you remember the way it felt to have his hand on yours all those hours, or the way his body’s heat reached out to you under the shared blanket before you push the memories away. All in due time, you tell yourself. Miguel has done some inner healing, and opened himself to you in more ways than you ever imagined in a short time. You have no doubt that one day he’ll be more open to physical touch, beyond hands, at least. Maybe one day you’ll be able to embrace him, not just for comfort, but maybe just because of sheer happiness, too.

One day, you tell yourself, one day in the near future.

For now, you hold your mug for a few seconds and refocus on the moment.

Miguel holds on to his mug, too, while he thinks about reaching over and offering his pinky finger, but he’s not sure that he should, not now. He turns his gaze to the photo album instead, trying to distract himself from his thoughts concerning physical touch. Maybe another time. He sighs softly, so gently you miss it entirely and Miguel himself doesn’t even register it, but if there was a third person present, they would’ve labeled Miguel’s sigh as one of longing.

You place the mug on the floor next to you, not between Miguel and you to avoid spilling, but instead on your empty side. It’s then that a small hint of color catches your eye from underneath one of your pillows. It's your sweatshirt, but it’s not the one you’ve been wearing these last few days to sleep in when you get cold during the night. No, this is the sweatshirt Miguel returned to you several days ago.

And yet, it’s not on your bed because you wear it to sleep but for another reason.

You turn to Miguel, his eyes are on the photo album, lost in thought, thankfully.

You discreetly push the sweatshirt further underneath the pillows, hiding it, while you keep an eye on him. You feel as though if he sees it, he’ll know the truth, which is that just like he finds comfort in your scent, you find comfort in his.

You know there’s nothing wrong with it. At least, you don’t think so. You’ve never had a negative feeling nor thought about Miguel finding comfort in your scent, or even the fact that the old audio recording of you sleeping helps him. If anything, you find it endearing, and knowing that such simple things from you helps Miguel sleep better brings you happiness because it means he’s sleeping properly these days.

Therefore, you’re not hiding the sweatshirt because of that but rather because you don’t want to risk making Miguel uncomfortable. You’re certain he wouldn’t react negatively to it but still, there’s that risk, considering only a few days ago Miguel admitted being best friends. You don’t want to take that chance, even if a part of you believes that you telling him might bring Miguel some relief since sometimes you can still sense some embarrassment from him when he accepts the new sweatshirt every weekend.

So for now, you’ll keep this little secret to yourself. Maybe in a few months you’ll tell him about it and how you came to the realization that his scent fills you with peace and comfort. You briefly allow yourself to think of that night, New Year’s Eve, when you took his scarf home with you after he wrapped it around your neck to keep you warm. That fact alone brings a soft smile to your face as you watch Miguel looking at the photos. It also ignites another rush of warmth through you, as it’s one of the most intimate moments Miguel and you have had. It was so unexpected but even more what he did later that night, when he dried your tears with it on the rooftop, just the two of you. He soothed your tears and feelings, and then you both joined the rest of the group, forgetting about the scarf entirely.

It was the next morning at your apartment when you realized you still had it. You remember finding and picking it up, feeling its softness. And then, maybe out of curiosity or sheer instinct, you brought it to your face to smell it and Miguel’s scent filled your lungs. Catching yourself in the act, you placed it back on the bed, where it had been, before you headed to the bathroom only to end up accidentally pulling it towards you when you were ready for a short morning nap since Miguel and you spent the whole night talking here, at his penthouse, after leaving Miles’s universe. You got settled into bed and when you noticed pulling it along with the covers, you didn’t put it away. Instead, you brought it closer to you and shortly after fell asleep, inhaling Miguel’s scent like it was the most natural thing for you to do.

That’s how you discovered that you find comfort in Miguel’s scent. And that’s the reason why you hold on to the sweatshirts when he returns them - simply to have his scent nearby at night because it lulls you to sleep like nothing else has in years.

You pick up the mug again and take a sip, glancing at Miguel. Maybe another time.

You smile at him as you hold your mug. “Thank you for the café de olla. It’s so good, as always,” you tell him, breaking the short silence at last.

“Of course… Always,” Miguel says looking up at you. He gives you a small smile in return, noticing yours.

“Next page,” you say, grinning at him before you flip the page on the photo album. “That’s my mom and dad, high school graduation day. They cried,” you share with Miguel.

“Understandable,” he replies, looking at the photos. “Their only child graduated. I would’ve cried, too,” Miguel admits quietly, thinking. “I would’ve cried watching Gaby graduate high school, but what a privilege it would’ve been to have seen it happen…” Miguel clears his throat and looks at you again. He gives you an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I understand,” you say gently, reassuring him. You watch Miguel, thinking of a way to lighten the mood, of focusing on something much positive. “I have a feeling she would’ve been valedictorian, or at least top three in her class with how bright she was.”

That comment alone brings an affectionate look to Miguel’s face. He nods, knowing what you’re doing. Over the months and so many conversations, Miguel has noticed the way you always try to lighten his emotions, something he greatly appreciates. You always find a way to lift his spirits up. And somehow, you always succeed.

He offers you a gentle and warm smile. “She would’ve. I’m sure of it. She was very bright and loved learning.”

“Just like you,” you reply with a smile.

Miguel chuckles, his cheeks reddening just slightly as his gaze avoids yours for a few seconds in what seems to be shyness. “I - Thank you.” Miguel turns to look at you again with a sheepish smile. “You’re like that, too, you know?”

You chuckle and lift the coffee mug to your mouth to drink, feeling amused but also a bit of shyness yourself now. “I guess so.”

“You are.”

“Thank you,” you reply, lowering the mug. You gaze down at the photo album, feeling Miguel’s gaze on you the entire time. You mindlessly turn the page on the photo album. “I was thinking… It’s not too late. Not yet anyway,” you start.

“It isn’t,” Miguel replies, still looking at you, noticing the way you’re avoiding his gaze now. He’s turned the tables on you with the compliment and now you’re the shy one. He grins to himself, for some reason finding it amusing and yet sweet.

“Right, so I was thinking maybe we can work on the photographs? For a little while, at least. Only if you’re up to it, of course,” you say, finally glancing at him again. Your eyes instantly meet his red ones, making you wonder if he’s stopped looking at you even for just a few seconds. You have a feeling he hasn’t.

“It’s not too late, we can. If you’re not tired,” Miguel says, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of exhaustion as this week has been pretty busy at the Spider Society.

“I’m not. Plus, I have new energy thanks to this wonderful coffee,” you reply with a smile. “And I just know there’s more downstairs,” you add with a little smirk that makes Miguel chuckle.

“There might be some left.”

“I’m up for it then,” you say. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” Miguel responds with a soft smile. “I’m in.”

With that, you stand up and retrieve your mug, finishing what’s left of the coffee so you can refill it downstairs. Miguel glances at the photo album one more time, his eyes landing on a photo of Peter, you, and one more young man all dressed in cap and gowns. He recognizes him from previous photos you had before you redecorated your apartment a year ago, but you’ve never talked about your old friends and well, neither has Miguel. He lifts the photo album and closes it before handing it to you, so you can place it back where it needs to.

You thank him and place it on the desk as Miguel stands up, ready to head downstairs with you. He silently thinks about the friends he had in high school. Maybe one day the two of you can talk about those days, recall old memories with people that are no longer in your lives.

“Ready?” you ask Miguel, grabbing the tray Miguel brought earlier to take it back downstairs.

“Ready.”

“Let’s go then.”

You gesture for Miguel to follow you and he does so without thinking about it. In a matter of seconds, you’re both in the living room.

“Do you want more café de olla?” you ask him.

Miguel looks at his mug and shrugs. “I guess I could go for more.”

“Here, I’ll refill our mugs then.”

“Thank you,” Miguel says as he hands you his mug before you head off.

You take care of the tray and dishes, and serve both yourself and Miguel more coffee before you return to the living room. Just as you enter the space again, you find Miguel by his record player and a second later, music fills your ears. Seeing Miguel use the record player always makes you smile without failure, especially knowing that he truly enjoys it despite the fact that he lives in a futuristic dimension where record players are not the norm. You’ve noticed that his collection of records has grown in a short amount of time, and at this rate he might beat you in having a larger one in just a few months.

“What are grinning about?” Miguel asks, raising an eyebrow.

You chuckle and shrug your shoulders. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” he asks, curiously.

You walk to the coffee table from which you’ve been working from, spotting a stack of photos and several frames ready for use.

“Your collection of records. It’s grown in a short amount of time,” you state as you place down the mugs on coasters and make sure that the stack of photos are far away from the coffee to avoid damage.

Miguel turns to look at his bookcase, eyebrow still raised, to take a look. He realizes it has. There’s a lot of records from artists Miguel enjoys listening to, records he bought right before the fire at your apartment. Miguel also realizes there’s a lot of Billie Holiday and other artists you specifically enjoy, records he often finds himself listening to - because of you.

“I guess it has, hasn’t it?” he asks looking back at you with a small grin.

“It has! I was thinking that at this rate your collection is going to be larger than mine,” you respond as you take a seat on the floor.

Miguel chuckles as he walks to the coffee table, too. He takes a seat next to you, leaving plenty of space so you can both stretch if needed before he picks up a few photos.

“Are we going to have a little competition?” he asks as he inspects a photo.

“A little competition?” you ask glancing at him, amused. “No, I just think it’s nice seeing you use the record player and your collection growing. It’s nice to share my love for records with someone again.”

Miguel turns to look at you when you say that.

“It’s nice to share my love for records with someone again.”

You smile at him before picking up a picture frame and inspecting the little sliding parts at the back, making sure they work fine.

Miguel continues to watch you, a soft and affectionate look on his face as your words stay with him. He’s that someone to you now - that someone you can talk to about records or share them with. It’s a thing you share now.

“I’m flattered,” Miguel says at last, smiling softly. “And by the way, you’re always welcomed to borrow any of the records. I can also buy them for you, if you’d like your own copy. Don’t hesitate to let me know,” he adds, meaning it.

“Thank you, likewise,” you reply softly with a smile. You place the frame down. “So, what other photos do you want to add?”

“I was thinking this one,” Miguel says, showing you a photo. “It’s Gabriel. His whole class did a play in the first grade to conclude the school year. He played a prince. I can’t even remember what it was about but he was a good one.”

You smile warmly as you look at the photo of Gabriel wearing a crown. “He looks so adorable,” you say, your eyes softening at the sight, something Miguel notices. “He was so little and look,” you say, leaning closer to the photo. “He had little curls, like you do.”

Miguel’s eyebrows raise at the fact that you’ve noticed and recall such detail about him but then again, he remembers you’ve washed his hair before. He smiles. “Yeah, his faded as he started to grow older.”

“That explains why I’ve never noticed them before in other photos of him where he’s older.”

“I think he was about seven when he lost them. Let’s see…” Miguel says looking through other photos. “This was some field trip and he still has them. Looks like he was in the third grade here. I’m pretty sure he didn’t have them by the end of elementary. I remember he was sad about it. My mom was, too,” Miguel adds, remembering that. “I think I want to add this one for sure.”

He places the photo he first showed you on the table to the side before he grabs more photos. Together, he shows you more photos, mostly of him and Gabriel. You don’t fail to notice that there are none of Miguel’s stepfather, George O’Hara. Rightfully so, you think to yourself. His mom, on the other hand, shows up here and there.

“Maybe this one.” Miguel holds up a photo. It’s of Gabriel and himself, holding up matching superhero action figures with a Christmas tree behind them. “This was a good Christmas,” he says softly. “Gabriel was so excited about those action figures. He said we were twins because we had the same one,” he continues, chuckling. “And he made sure to tell that to anyone who was willing to listen.” Miguel grows silent as he stares at the photo some more. He clears his throat. “I still have them. We both kept them even when we grew older. They’re downstairs with his things,” Miguel shares.

You stare at Miguel fondly, noting the way his voice has grown quieter. “He was so sweet,” you comment, glancing at the photo as well. “I bet he’s happy that you still have them.”

Miguel glances at you, smiling, even though his eyes show signs of sadness. “Maybe. Or maybe not, considering they’re packed away.”

“You can always unpack them. Maybe you can put them in his room, or even here in the bookcase as decoration,” you suggest gently.

“I might do that,” Miguel says, nodding. He looks back at the photo. “Definitely adding this one.”

“It’ll look lovely on your wall,” you reply. “I can go ahead and put it in a picture frame if you want. That one and the other one.”

“Yes, please,” he replies as he hands you only one of the photos. He keeps the other one and inserts it into a picture frame himself, so you’re not doing all the work. “There.” Miguel looks at the photo again, this time in its picture frame. He nods, satisfied.

He places it next to him on the floor and reaches for more photos. He doesn’t need much time to decide on the ones he’s going through now. They’re of you and him. He places each one down, remembering each moment as you get other picture frames ready. He can’t believe he has shared so many moments like these with you. It feels unreal, that he’s opened up so much to you, but he’s thankful for it - and for you.

He comes across another photo, this one is also from New Year’s but it’s a photo of the entire spider gang, you, and him - taken by Lyla, of course. He places it in the pile because why not.

Next, he comes across the few last photos he has of Gaby. He places all of them in the pile. Some of them are already on the wall in display and the remainder are on this stack now. He silently wishes more could’ve been saved but this is all he has, unfortunately.

He sighs softly. He’s thankful he has these many, at least.

“I think for now these will be it,” he says as he lifts the short stack of photos. “Once I hang them up, I’ll see if I want to add more.”

You nod in agreement and together, you work on the picture frames until all of Miguel’s selected photos have one and he can begin to hang them. He asks for your opinion on the arrangement, so you make suggestions, which he agrees with. At last, Miguel places the last photograph and steps back to take a look at the completed project.

You stand side by side about eight feet away from the wall and simply take it all in.

You personally find it beautiful and touching to see all of Miguel’s deceased loved ones present from Gaby to Gabriel, and even his mother and wife. Then, there’s photos of you and him, and even one from New Year’s Eve with the entire spider gang that you don’t have. You remind yourself that you’ll ask him about it later, so you can add it to your own wall when your building is done with construction. As your eyes shift from photo to photo, you internally hope that Miguel is happy with it - that he feels good about this addition to his penthouse.

You glance up at him, subtly, trying to gauge his reaction. It’s been almost two minutes of silence and he hasn’t said anything yet. You hope he’s not regretting it nor feeling overwhelmed with seeing all these memories all at once. Worried, you scan his face but thankfully, there’s no negative emotion etched on Miguel’s face.

Instead, you find a soft and warm smile as Miguel’s red eyes move from photo to photo. He nods to himself in approval.

“I really like this,” he whispers, his gaze still on the wall. “I like having their photos out.”

Smiling, you nod, returning your eyes to the photos. “It looks beautiful,” you whisper back. “It’s great to see them.”

Miguel hums quietly, unable to tear his eyes away. “It is. And I also like - seeing our photos, too. And the one with the spider gang.”

“I didn’t know that one was even taken.”

“You know Lyla,” Miguel says. “I have yet to find all the photos she has taken in the past. She keeps hiding them.”

You laugh quietly. “Her secret folder has probably tripled since the day she told us about it.”

“If not more.”

“True,” you say softly. “I like seeing our photos, too, by the way. It makes me truly realize…” you trail off.

Miguel finally shifts his gaze to you, curious. “It makes you realize…?”

“It makes me realize how much time has passed since I joined the Spider Society. Almost two years now. On top of that, I realize how much time and moments we - we’ve shared,” you say quietly, as if afraid that this truth will upset Miguel.

“We’ve shared a lot,” he says, agreeing. “It’s being almost two years and yet, it doesn’t feel like that much time has passed but it has.” Miguel glances at the wall, thinking. “The last two years have flown by for me, to be honest,” he admits. “Before that, time felt like it was dragging by.”

You process his words, a thought coming to your mind but you tell yourself that surely that’s not what Miguel means.

“They haven’t been easy years,” Miguel admits. There’s no way he can deny that. Losing Gaby shattered him. “But they’ve flown by. I blinked and now we’re here, and it doesn’t feel like two years have almost gone by. It feels like - only a few months. What I’m trying to say is that…” Miguel shakes his head. Is he even making sense? Or, is he just so excited about the finished wall that he’s just rambling and not making his point clear? “I don’t feel like the last two years have dragged in the sense that it feels torturous. They’ve flown by and I actually find myself wondering where has time gone? It’s like, I don’t have enough time but in a good way, if that makes sense. Shock,” Miguel says in disbelief. He’s probably making no sense to you right now. “You’ve made these years better. More than better,” he tries again. “I’ve enjoyed these years because of you despite everything I was, and still am, navigating - and because of that, it feels like it hasn’t been two years already. I hope that after all my rambling I made sense.” Miguel looks at you with a sheepish look on his face.

You smile at him and nod, touched by Miguel’s admission. It may not feel like two years have gone by already but they have, and it’s evident by Miguel’s words themselves. The man you met almost two years ago wouldn’t have share those words with you, either because he didn’t want to show his feelings or because he wasn’t able to speak them out loud. Now, here he is, saying them.

Time has definitely gone by.

Yet, you agree with Miguel. It doesn’t feel like it has, not with him and your other friends around.

“You did, I understand what you’re saying. I feel the same way,” you respond, thinking. “There were many days, before the Spider Society, that felt like that, as if time was dragging on. My days blended into each other, but ever since I joined and I became friends with you and everyone else, I’ve had no days like that. Not anymore. The last few years have been amazing, truly. Thanks to you,” you continue.

You settle into a peaceful silence, staring at each other for a few seconds with smiles on your faces before turning to the wall again. Unknowingly, you both think about earlier upstairs.

You have each other now.

Always.

Half an hour later, you’re both sitting on the couches. It’s still early in the evening when you remember that you’re going grocery shopping tomorrow, so together, you make a grocery list because it’s your turn to buy groceries.

Miguel watches you as you jot down things, wishing you didn’t insist on this, but it was a condition you established from the start when he offered you to stay with him while your apartment building is under construction. He has to respect it despite his discontent. He has no choice but to do so, even though he’d be more than happy to pay for groceries every week for the two of you.

“Okay, what about snacks?” you ask softly, looking up at him from your list.

Miguel tilts his head to the side, thinking. “Those cookies you always like, those are amazing.”

“I’ll get those then,” you say with a smile as you add them to the list.

You stop working on your list when you receive a notification from your gizmo. You glance at it, noticing it’s from Peter B. asking if you can babysit Mayday for a few hours tomorrow since something came up for him and MJ. You quickly reply and tell him you can.

“Seems like I’ll have a little companion for my grocery trip.”

“Who?” Miguel asks.

“Mayday,” you say as you add something else to the list that you just thought about.

Miguel smiles softly, watching you. He can already see you walking the streets of your city with Mayday on your chest in her little carrier. He shakes the thought away when you glance at him again.

“Seems like I have everything but if you think of something else, even if I’m already there, just send me a quick message.”

“I will,” Miguel replies with a small smile. _☆_

The next day you walk the streets of your city with Mayday just like Miguel imagined it. She’s grown a lot over the last few months, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. You have two reusable bags on your arm in which you’re carrying the groceries and at this point, you only have two more stops before you head back to Nueva York.

“Snack!” Mayday says, pointing to some food stand eagerly.

A laugh escapes from your lips as Mayday proves to have Peter B’s appetite each day. You decide to find a place to stop and sit down to give her a snack since Peter and MJ packed some safe snacks for her. Once settled, Mayday happily eats and looks around, pointing at things that catch her attention, so you reply back and tell her about those things she points to. Her vocabulary is expanding more and more each day, and these days she can say things that are understandable, even if it’s just single words.

You can’t help but enjoy this moment with her. It really is sweet when you have the opportunity to look after her, something that has become more frequent as Mayday is also beginning to show superpowers. Her strength is already like that of a ten-year old, and you can only imagine it will increase as she grows older. On top of her strength, she’s also started to experience spidey senses like the rest of you. And so, because she’s already displaying these powers, some of you from the spider gang have offered to help, as mentors, including Miguel.

You can’t deny that knowing this about Mayday has made you wonder. If you and Peter had the opportunity and time to have children, would they have powers, too? The thought always makes you smile, especially when you imagine Peter trying to catch a child swinging around. That would’ve been a sight to behold for sure.

You sigh softly and gently hug Mayday closer as you offer her another piece of her snack. In a multiverse of universes in which Peter Parker doesn’t always get a family and happy ending, you’re more than happy that Peter B. has had this beautiful opportunity. He has MJ and Mayday after everything he’s gone through. And of course, he has the spider gang, too.

“All done?” you ask Mayday with a warm smile, noticing she’s done. You wipe her mouth and her hands, making sure to keep her clean before the two of you carry on to the other shops. It doesn’t take long for you to finish since you have the list you put together last night with Miguel.

At last, Mayday and you are on your way with everything. Your eyes search for a good place to sneak through so you can get on a rooftop and travel back to Nueva York to avoid raising any suspicions or questions. As you look around, you feel Mayday begin to wiggle around in your chest. She starts pointing at something, a flower stand that’s just up ahead.

“Flowers. Do you want to look at the flowers?” you ask her but you know the answer to that already just by her enthusiasm, so you walk up to the stand. You inspect some of the flowers like many other customers, with nothing in mind since you had no plans to buy flowers today. “Should we get some flowers for Miguel’s place? It would brighten up the kitchen, I think,” you tell Mayday. “What do you think? Should we get these?” You pick up a bouquet and show it to Mayday but she doesn’t seem too excited about them. “Alright, so not those… These?” you ask, raising a bouquet with an assortment of colors with red, a pastel yellow, and pink.

This one seems to have Mayday’s approval because she reaches for it.

“I see we have a winner, then,” you say, inspecting the flowers beyond their colors to make sure they’re in good condition. Satisfied, you continue to look at the other flowers. You notice there’s a line of people anyway, so you might as well enjoy the other flowers with Mayday in the meantime, so she doesn’t get bored waiting in line.

“Romance, friendship, and admiration,” someone says about a minute later as you glance at the bouquet you’re holding.

Startled, you look up only to find the owner of the flower stand staring at Mayday and you.

“That’s what the colors usually mean,” she says, explaining. “Red is for romance. Yellow for friendship. And pink for admiration. It can also be playfulness and innocence. It’s a bouquet I usually arrange with lovers in mind.”

“Oh,” you reply softly, glancing at the bouquet again. You chuckle softly as you think about the fact that this is for Miguel’s home. “It’s a lovely arrangement.”

“I’m sure your partner will love it,” she says. All you can do is nod at the statement instead of correcting her about the fact that you don’t have a partner.

“Yes!” Mayday exclaims with a little clap that makes the flower stand owner grin.

“Seems like the little one agrees.”

You smile and nod. “Yes, she seems to agree. We’ll take these, please,” you reply, handing her the bouquet so she can ring you up. The flower stand owner hands it back, wrapped in another protective paper. You pay and get your change back from the lady, who thanks you for your business.

“I hope you and your partner enjoy the bouquet, miss,” she says before another customer approaches her.

You sigh, taking a few steps away from that area to show Mayday more flowers. It seems she’s really enjoying them as her attention is still on them. You decide to indulge her, it’s a lovely day after all and you’re genuinely enjoying shopping around and showing her the flowers now that it’s warmer out. “Look at these, Mayday,” you say, pointing at some flowers but those fail to get her attention, so you try showing her others.

“Not your cup of tea?” you ask as she still seems uninterested. You wonder if she’s just bored of looking at flowers now, or maybe she’s just tired from the trip just as she starts patting your body. “I guess we ought to go home,” you say realizing Mayday seems impatient now.

“Go,” she says, still patting your body.

“Alright, alright. We’re going home,” you reply.

“Go, go,” Mayday repeats pointing to the street.

“We’re going. Don’t worry,” you reply, reassuring her while readjusting her carrier to make sure she’s secured. It’s then that you notice, she’s giving signals of her spidey senses going off. A second later, yours do, too. You’re about to look around to see what’s going on but you have no time.

“Y/N?”

You freeze.

It’s been several years since you’ve heard someone use your first name in your universe. For years, all the social interactions you’ve had have been with people who address you formally by your last name, such as your landlord or the people at the bank when you have to take care of financial matters. Now, here’s this voice, saying your name full of recognition. It’s one your brain immediately identifies, and how could it not? You’ve known this person since elementary, all the way until Peter’s funeral. With a gulp, you turn and face him.

“Y/N,” he says again, this time with more confidence as he realizes it’s truly you.

You manage a nod. “Harry,” you reply, saying a name your mouth hasn’t uttered in years.

—☆

Mayday sits on your lap, probably the most still you’ve ever seen her. In fact, she remained quiet during the entire walk as Harry Osborn and you made your way to this small coffee shop he apparently visits a lot. You don’t even remember saying yes but you did. After addressing each other and stating awkward “what a surprise’s,” Harry invited you for a cup of coffee. And, you said yes because your brain froze due to the shock of seeing him standing in front of you.

He offered Mayday and you a ride, pointing to his parked car on the side of the street, his valet waiting with the door open, but you politely declined. That didn’t seem to bother Harry a bit and even after telling him that he could ride his car and meet you there, he refused and opted to walk with you.

You glance out of one of the coffee shop’s window now, sitting next to it. You saw the table open when you first came in and chose it, thinking that the window will provide some relief from the awkwardness that might come from this conversation. You also figure it will sooth some of your nerves. You didn’t expect to feel nervous about seeing and talking to Harry again, but here you are, your hands slightly trembling. Your eyes spot Harry’s car across the street, his valet waiting inside it for him.

You look away and stare at the table, wondering how it’s possible that years later you stumble into him. It’s the first time you’ve seen and spoken to him since Peter’s funeral. It feels surreal.

Your thoughts are interrupted as a coffee cup comes into view before it’s placed in front of you. Harry takes a seat across from you, his own cup in his hand. You meet his gaze and manage to offer a small smile, one you hope doesn’t show how shocked and off you feel about this encounter.

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” you reply softly, not sure where to start, not sure what to say.

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry replies, offering you a small smile as well.

You can tell that he’s equally unsure of where to start. His eyes continue to flicker towards Mayday, who remains on your lap peacefully, no doubt wondering who she is to you, but you don’t feel like offering any answers or explanations right now, especially with Mayday being from another universe. The less Harry knows, the better.

“So…” Harry starts, still holding on to his cup, as if finding assurance from it. He smiles nervously before he shakily sighs and looks down at the table for a few seconds. trying to gather his thoughts. He raises his head again. “You look beautiful, as always. You look well, Y/N,” he says gently.

“Thank you,” you respond. “I’m doing well*,* too.” You nod, knowing this statement is true. You’ve been good for a while - you’ve been happy since you joined the Spider Society almost two years ago, and even more so since you’ve made close friends. And not only that, you now have a best friend. A smile forms on your lips at the thought of it.

Miguel, your best friend.

“I haven’t seen that smile in so long,” Harry says, taking notice of your smile immediately. It’s a much different smile from the one you offered him just now. It’s real and happy, not awkward at all. “It’s the smile you always had for Peter.” Harry realizes this and he can only wonder what or who you’re thinking about, what or who is the reason for that smile now.

His comment about your smile and it being the one you always had for Peter while thinking about Miguel makes you freeze just for a few seconds but you simply nod. You’ll think about his observation later when you’re home. You blink at that, still smiling gently, as you realize you’ve unconsciously called Nueva York “home,” even though you are home, at least in your home universe. You’ll think about that later, too, you tell yourself.

Harry smiles, much warmly this time, and continues, unaware of your scattered thoughts. “I’m more than happy to hear that, truly. I’m happy you’re doing well,” Harry continues. “You deserve to be doing well after…” he trails off, a look of understanding crossing his features, not wanting to say it out loud but you know what he means - that you’re doing well after Peter’s death.

You nod again, focusing on the conversation and on Harry. You don’t want to come across as disrespectful.

“Thank you. I hope you’ve been doing well, too, Harry,” you say, genuinely. “I mean that.”

He sighs softly, his eyes on you. “Thank you…. I - I know this must be - strange and I don’t even know where to start,” he whispers suddenly, but loud enough for you to hear. “After all this time… I have so much to say to you, and yet I cannot find the words to convey everything I’ve felt and continue to feel.” Harry pauses and exhales heavily this time, continuing to meet your gaze.

Below, on your lap, you feel Mayday’s hand grip your fingers. You hold her closer, your arms tightening around her just slightly for comfort.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry says, his tone pained. “I’m so sorry for just - disappearing. For leaving you... When you needed me the most. I failed you and Pete,” he whispers, his gaze heavy with sadness. “I failed the two of you.”

“Harry,” you start, sensing his genuine regret and something else. Sorrow, pain. You sigh and look away. This is certainly not what you were expecting to be doing today - running into an old friend, into Harry, and hearing his apologies for disappearing.

“No, please. Please just let me,” Harry says. “I need to get this off my chest. I know it’s not fair to just dump all of this on you right now, but I haven’t seen you in so long, and now that you’re here, I just - want to say it. How sorry I am. You deserved so much better from me, but I failed you and Peter. I was never worthy of being called your friend, of Peter calling me his brother.”

You return your gaze to him. For years, you’ve been hiding the hurt from his sudden disappearance, but you also know that you were going to do the same to him. You were going to cut ties with Harry eventually, just like you did with other friends and acquaintances. It was your plan all along after Peter’s death. Your mind was made up only a few hours after you found Peter and held him in your arms before he passed away.

In your grief, loss, and pain, you found a guilt that you carried for a long time. You felt that you had failed Peter, in saving him, and wondered. If you couldn’t save one of the most important people in your life, how would you protect anyone else, including your friends - including Harry? They were better off without you, at least you believed that then.

It was that mentality that led you to cutting ties with everyone. Your plan included Harry, who you always saw as a bit of a brother as well. You anticipated that it would be harder to disappear from his life. You believed he was going to try and stay in touch, no matter how much you tried to distance yourself from him. You had known and being friends with each other since elementary and that friendship only grew as the years went by, especially when Peter transferred schools and he became friends with Harry as well. The friendship became a deeper one.

But then, Harry simply disappeared after Peter’s funeral. He gave you a hug at the end of it, holding you tight, before he excused himself, marking it the last time you saw him or heard from him. On one hand, he made your goal easy, and yet, it still hurt.

You gulp the emotions away. “All of that is in the past,” you reply gently, meeting Harry’s gaze. Your hurt from his disappearance has lessened over the years and at times, you told yourself that he must have had his own reasons for doing so, just like you had yours. “You had your reasons, I’m sure of it.”

Harry nods and looks away, as if suddenly being unable to meet your eyes.

“I - Thank you for being understanding,” he says, clearing his throat. After a few seconds, he turns his gaze back to you. “… I’m so sorry. I truly am. For disappearing… For leaving you alone. I hate to think of all this time,” he says, eyebrows knitted in regret. “I learned from the others after some time that you slowly started to distance yourself.”

You look away from his eyes now, brushing aside a strand of Mayday’s hair from her face. “I had my reasons,” you reply, giving him the same excuse for his own distance. He hasn’t provided any reason or excuse, and you haven’t probe for more, so you hope he’ll do the same. You glance back at him, his eyes meeting yours.

He nods. Harry Osborn is smart, always has been. The words you’ve used and the way you’ve both avoided discussing the reasons for distancing, doesn’t elude him. There will be no discussion of such things, at least not today. He clears his throat and nods again, understanding.

“I haven’t talked to them in many years,” he says. “It’s crazy to think some of them have children now.”

“Yeah, I learned of one of them. It’s definitely… crazy to think about. How much time has passed that they have kids now.”

“I went to look for you,” Harry suddenly reveals.

“You did? When?”

“I found out your apartment building caught on fire. I immediately recognized it, of course. How could I not?” he says with a small smile. “It’s where we spent so many evenings with everyone. So many celebrations. Birthday parties for friends, your baking and Peter’s cooking. You guys always made the apartment feel like a second home.”

You smile at that. “Yeah, I remember that - those days,” you reply softly, thinking. It’s been a while since you thought of those days, except for Peter’s birthdays. It’s the only time you think about those happy evenings when the apartment was filled with excitement and happy conversation.

Harry nods. “As soon as I saw it, I was worried about you. I didn’t know if you had moved somewhere else, or if you… had stayed there. I asked around and found out that you still live there. I wanted to make sure you were okay after the fire. Wanted to know if you needed help, or somewhere to stay, but I haven’t had luck in locating you until today by pure chance. I just happened to look out the car’s window and your figure seemed familiar, so I asked my valet to pull over and well, it turns out it was you after all.” Harry pauses. “Where - if you don’t mind me asking - where are you staying right now? If you need a place, you’re more than welcome to stay with me,” he offers, concern laced in his words.

“Thank you, that's kind of you but please don't worry. I’m already staying somewhere.”

“Are you safe? Do you have everything you need?” Harry asks, for the first time leaning closer, trying to gauge if you’re telling the truth.

“Yes, I'm safe,” you reply, reassuring him. You smile gently at him. After all these years, you can hear genuine concern in Harry's voice. “I’m staying somewhere safe.”

“It isn’t a hotel, is it?” he asks. “Or, are you staying with someone?”

“Mig!” Mayday exclaims, thankfully being unable to say Miguel’s full name correctly.

Harry turns to Mayday.

“Mig?” he repeats and Mayday nods, clapping her hands, excitedly. He turns back to you, an eyebrow raised but he doesn’t ask more questions. “As long as you’re staying somewhere safe, that’s all that matters.”

“I am.”

Harry nods. No further details are provided from you. He doesn’t even know who this child is. He turns back to Mayday, his gaze filled with curiosity.

“She’s a friend’s daughter,” you simply state, giving no names. “I’m looking after her today. My friend and their spouse had something to do.”

“I see,” Harry replies, still staring at Mayday. “She seems sweet. And very fond of you,” he comments, taking notice of the way she holds your fingers. The child seems more than content with you, as if she has known you her whole short life, which only makes him wonder more. He has a lot of questions about your life. Where have you been? Who are your friends now? So many questions, but Harry knows he can’t ask them. He has no right to, not after disappearing from your life so abruptly when you needed him the most. He’s glad to see that you seem happier these days, at least. Your smile from earlier is a sign of it. He wonders about it again, unable to stop himself from associating the “Mig” with your happiness.

“She seems so,” you reply, holding Mayday. Not knowing what else to say, you lift your coffee for the first time and take a sip to fill the silence. You glance subtly out the window again, your eyes spotting Harry’s parked car once more. Looking back at Harry, you place the cup down. “So… How have you been?”

The question throws Harry off guard for a second. The awkward silence that fell upon you made it feel like this conversation was over but you’ve asked him something, and maybe that means this random encounter isn’t over just yet.

“Okay,” he replies. “I’m working with my father now at Osborn Industries.”

“Right. Osborn Industries. How is your dad? I haven’t seen him in a long time.”

“He’s - older,” Harry replies with a sheepish smile. “He talks about retirement but then again, he’s been talking about it for years. I don’t think he’ll ever retire, to be honest. It seems impossible to him to not work. He’s worked his whole life. I think he’ll grow bored from not working, but who knows.”

You nod. “I can imagine.” You chuckle a bit. “Tell him I say hi and that I wish him well, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. He’ll be happy to hear from you,” Harry says. “He’s asked about you over the years.”

With a smile, you nod and pick up your mug again. You wonder what Harry told his father, if he ever shared with Norman Osborn that he cut contact with you, or if he told him something else to excuse the sudden lack of contact between you. “Well… You can tell him I’m alright, still living here in the city.”

“I will,” he replies, not knowing what else to say for a few seconds before he thinks of something. “I know this is unexpected, but - would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow?”

You blink in surprise. Harry’s lunch invitation is definitely unexpected. You meet his gaze, pondering about what his invitation and your acceptance might mean for the future.

“Just lunch,” he says gently. “That’s all. I know it’s probably too much too soon after so many years but I just… I’d like to see you again, even if just one more time. I’ll understand if you want nothing more with me afterwards. I’ll respect it but just… Please. For old time’s sake,” Harry continues.

Mayday glances up at you, her blue eyes wide, as if waiting for your response. It’s always been intriguing to you how she seems to understand the mood of the situation - of the environment - she’s in despite her age. You sigh silently.

For old time’s sake, Harry says. A part of you feels like you should accept. Not just for old time’s sake but also for Peter, who you think would be happy about this, even if it’s just this lunch and concludes at that. Maybe this is a form of closure for both Harry and you, and in a way, for Peter, too. You nod.

“Tomorrow.”

Harry beams at you. “Tomorrow. I can have my valet pick you up, if you’d like. Or, I can simply give you the address, whichever you prefer.”

“The address is fine, thank you,” you reply, politely declining the ride once more.

Harry nods, understanding, before he gives you the address. You both confirm the time, making it official.

You’re having lunch with Harry Osborn tomorrow after years of not seeing him. __☆

“I thought about Peter and how this might be a closure for everyone. For Peter, Harry, and me,” you say softly, leaning on one of Miguel’s lab counters almost an hour later after you parted ways with Harry. Your meeting with him left you feeling a lot of emotions and the time it took you to put away all the groceries at the penthouse served as a moment to think about it a bit before you returned to HQ to tell Miguel what happened. “So, I said yes.”

Mayday sits on the floor over a blanket you placed for her. Some of her toys are scattered around as she plays with them by herself. You’ve been keeping an eye on her the whole time while telling Miguel about your encounter with Harry, along with providing some background information, such as the last time you saw him.

Miguel has been listening to you and nodding his head in silence so far. He realizes now that the man he saw last night in your photos is Harry Osborn.

“You said yes,” he repeats, nodding.

“I did…” you reply, trailing off.

Miguel leans back on the same counter, his back to it. He crosses his arms across his chest, thinking. “And how do you feel about it now?”

You shrug slightly. “I don’t even know, to be honest. I think I’m still processing the fact that I even ran into him.”

“That’s understandable. It’s been many years,” Miguel comments, trying to ignore what you’ve told him about the man - about how Harry Osborn disappeared from your life right after Peter’s funeral, a time when you could’ve really used someone to lean on. Miguel can’t help but feel a grudge towards him, even though he’s never met the man.

“It has.” You fidget with your gizmo, looking at it.

Miguel can tell you seem off by this entire encounter, you seem nervous. Anxious even. He’s about to say something when he sees you turn away. In the blink of an eye, Mayday is in your arms. He quickly realizes you sensed Mayday swinging towards you and it’s why you turned away.

You smile as you hold Mayday in your arms and sigh. “She made the encounter better,” you tell Miguel, looking at him. “By the way, she called you ‘Mig’ at the coffee shop.”

“Mig?” Miguel repeats, smiling softly, placing his thoughts about Osborn aside, for now. He glances down at Mayday, noticing she brought her action figures of you and him along with her. He’s instantly reminded of the time she made both action figures kiss that one day you babysat her. He remembers hiding his face by lifting Mayday up to keep you from seeing the heat in his cheeks and how embarrassed you seemed about it afterwards. The memory makes his face feel warm now.

“Miggle!” Mayday says raising Miguel’s action figure so he can see it.

You cover your mouth, stifling a chuckle at Mayday’s new nickname. He glances between you and Mayday, a grumpy look on his face, but it’s a playful one. “Alright, I was okay with ‘Mig’ but this - that’s a no.”

You laugh, which causes Mayday to giggle. “Miggle!”

“Great,” Miguel mumbles, covering his face with one hand for a few seconds. He drops it and sighs, looking at Mayday and you, your laughter makes him chuckle, too. He shakes his head in disbelief and lets it go, it’s just a silly nickname. One day Mayday will grow out of it, he’s sure.

“Hey guys, I’m back,” someone says.

The three of you turn at the voice.

“Peter,” you say, greeting him with a smile.

Miguel gives him a nod of acknowledgment, crossing his arms over his chest again as he stands next to you, Mayday still in your arms.

Peter B. stops a few feet away, looking at the three of you.

“Hm,” Peter B. hums softly, a gleam in his eyes. He smiles to himself, as if fondly thinking of something but he reveals nothing. “Just came to pick up Mayday. MJ and I got out of our meeting just in time for her nap. Thank you for looking after her for us,” he says to you with an appreciative smile.

“Of course. It was no problem. I think she enjoyed her time with me. We looked at the flowers, didn’t we?” you ask Mayday, holding her higher. “And she had her snacks and got to see around my city again. It was a fun grocery trip,” you say, leaving out your meeting with Harry for now. You’ll tell him and the rest of the spider gang later when your mind isn’t so scattered nor conflicted about it. “It was a busy trip, so I think she’s definitely ready for her nap.” You walk over to him and hand Mayday over.

“Thanks,” Peter says again with a smile. “I’ll see you guys in a bit. This little one definitely needs a nap.” Peter looks at his daughter, noticing signs of sleepiness even as she continues to hold her action figures, lazily showing them to him.

“Let me collect her toys,” you say, gathering her items with Miguel’s help. The two of you place everything in Mayday’s backpack before you hand it back to Peter, helping him put it on. “There.”

“Thanks, guys. I’ll see you around. Say bye, Mayday,” Peter B. says with a grin.

“Bye-bye,” Mayday says waving one hand, the one holding Miguel’s action figure.

“Bye,” you say warmly, waving as well.

“Bye-bye, Mayday,” Miguel says standing next to you.

You glance at him, noticing that he said “bye-bye” as well, just like Mayday. You turn away and smile, finding that endearing as Peter and Mayday head out of the lab.

Miguel watches as they vanish from sight, his thoughts going back to your encounter with Harry once again, but he keeps that to himself for now. He knows that this sudden contact with him and the lunch tomorrow is weighting on you right now, and the last thing he wants to do is add to your stress by bringing it up so soon.

What Miguel wishes to do is make you forget about it, even if just for an hour. Miguel wishes to do what you always do for him, lift his spirits when he’s feeling down or tense. He thinks for a few seconds, planning and remembering something

“Mira [look], I wanted to show you something,” he starts, hoping this will take your mind off it for a little bit. He was planning to show you this later today but now seems like the best time to do so. He gestures for you to follow him to another lab bench. “I’ve been working on something with Lyla, doing trials and such.”

“What is it?” you ask as you stand next to him, looking at the surface. There’s a few lookalikes to the gizmos, a closed box, and tools all scattered about.

“Ever since last spring when I got injured and my gizmo was broken by that variant of the Green Goblin, I’ve been thinking about working on a new one. A more durable one,” Miguel says as he opens the box and retrieves something. He lifts it up and shows it to you, another gizmo. “I started doing some research on better materials - stronger ones, which this one is made out of. Up to that point there were no incidents like that, in which the gizmo was directly targeted. It was built to be durable in fights, to take hits and scratches but not that kind of impact. So for months, I’ve been testing other materials but they’ve all failed until I came across a new one. I started building this gizmo a few weeks ago once I found the new materials needed. This seems to be the best one in regards to that,” he says, offering it so you can take a closer look at it.

You take it carefully and inspect it. The trial gizmo looks similar to the current one with some differences. For instance, you can immediately tell this one is sturdier but also much more sleeker than the current one.

“It has a few more features, including those like that of a smartwatch. It can track vitals and the sort,” Miguel says, watching as you look at the gizmo. “I’m not concerned for that but it’s something other members have talked about in the past, so I added it. It might be helpful, who knows.” Miguel adds, shrugging.

“It feels sturdier,” you tell him. “I’m sure the others will like it, especially with those new features,” you add with a grin. “So, I can track my heart rate?”

Noticing your grin, Miguel returns it. It seems that his little plan has worked so far. “Why don’t you try it on?”

“It’s ready for that?”

“Yes. Now I just need to test it out - to make sure that everything is working as it should. I’ve made two, so far, so…” Miguel trails off. “You can test this one for me. I’ll test the other one.”

You nod, not questioning the fact that Miguel specifically made two of these gizmos. You slide the new gizmo on your other wrist and start it up. The familiar marigold colored screen appears immediately.

“I’m glad you kept the same color. It’s easy on the eyes.”

“It is, isn’t it? It helps a lot, especially with me staring at the screens for so long. Oh, look, there’s the vitals icon,” Miguel says pointing with his finger.

You click on the icon and the gizmo immediately shows a screen, asking if you want to measure your heart rate among other things. You approve the heart rate feature and it begins instantly, not taking long to show the results.

“Ninety-three beats per minute, and it’s within the general range,” Miguel reads. “That seems normal. We’ll keep track of that and make sure it doesn’t fluctuate to crazy numbers. If it does, it means I’ll need to work on it more.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for that then and report it to you,” you reply. “Unless it’s already synced to the network?”

Miguel nods his head. “These are but just because I want to make sure they’re working correctly. The final ones, those distributed, won’t though. I don’t want to breach anyone’s health privacy.”

“That sounds reasonable,” you reply. “I personally don’t mind since it’s you but it’s a nice thought for the others.” You give Miguel a smile. “You think about everything. This is amazing as always, Miguel. I’m excited to try out the other features.”

The compliment makes Miguel smile shyly at you. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re excited about it. I’ve been working on it little by little and I was excited to let you see and try it out. I guess it’s also time for an upgrade. It’s been a few years now since we’ve had these. Also, I do want to ask you to keep your original gizmo on you, especially for missions while we test these new ones. I don’t want you having any issues with glitching,” Miguel adds with concern.

“I’ll keep it on, don’t worry. Definitely don’t want any glitching,” you say, remembering the time you experienced it yourself. It was painful and if you can avoid feeling it again, you will.

“Good,” Miguel says with a sigh, satisfied with your answer.

You play with a few other features until at last you remember you have some work to do. “I’m going to go ahead and work on the report for next week, if you don’t mind,” you tell him, nodding to the desk where you always sit and work.

“Alright. I’ll be here,” Miguel says as he watches you walk away to your desk. Maybe working on the report will distract you for a while before he continues with his little plan.

It’s not much in his opinion but he hopes the gesture comforts you regardless. After a few seconds of watching you, Miguel finally walks back to his platform, where he tries not to think about your old friend.

It’s an hour later when Miguel looks at his gizmo to check the time. He steps off his platform and walks over to you. You’re so concentrated on the report that you only notice him until he’s next to the desk.

“I’m going to head out for a moment. About ten minutes or so. I’ll be right back,” he informs you.

“Oh, alright.”

“Wait for me here,” Miguel says softly. “I won’t take long. Promise.”

With a smile, you nod. “I’ll wait here. Promise.”

Satisfied with your answer, Miguel nods with a smile before he heads out with a determined look on his face. You silently wonder where he’s going off to but you don’t question it. You continue to work on the report and wait for him.

Just like Miguel promised, you hear his footsteps about fifteen minutes later. You glance up at him just as he appears in your line of sight. He approaches your desk again.

“Come on,” Miguel says softly, nodding his head to the side.

You raise an eyebrow.

“Let’s go,” Miguel tries again with a small smirk.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere. Just follow me,” he says, not sharing much.

You continue to stare at him, eyebrow raised. He just came back from wherever he mysteriously went off to and is now asking you to follow him. You feel the need to ask what’s going on but based on how little Miguel is sharing, you have a feeling he doesn’t want to tell you about it, but rather show you.

You save your progress on the device and nod before you stand up. “Alright.”

You follow Miguel, walking a few feet before he stops and looks up. He shoots his web up to the ceiling and climbs up. With furrowed eyebrows you do the same. You have no idea what’s going on, but you meet Miguel on the ceiling, noticing that he’s holding himself up with his talons.

“I always forget about this,” Miguel says. “No one else knows about it but there’s a secret window up here.”

“A secret window?”

Miguel nods and moves his hand around the ceiling, trying to locate something. “There. Watch out for the sunlight,” he warns before you hear a clicking noise. Miguel pushes it up and suddenly there’s light coming through the ceiling.

“There’s really a window on the ceiling,” you say, amazed.

Miguel chuckles before he pulls himself up. He continues to hold on to the building with his talons since you’re both stepping out onto one of the building’s peaks. If he doesn’t, he’d slip down. He crouches on the rooftop and offers you a hand, which you take without thinking. You cover your eyes, shielding them from the sunlight as you take in the fact that you’re both outside now, straight from Miguel’s lab.

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” you say.

Miguel chuckles again and shrugs. “I had it installed many years ago. It was supposed to be another way for me to leave the building during emergencies but I hardly use it. I forget it even exists.”

“But you remembered it today,” you say with a smile.

“It proved to be useful today, so I remembered it.”

“You can’t even see it,” you say looking at the ground. It blends right in.

“I had it designed that way. It’s why no one has found it, thankfully. Or, I’d have spider members literally dropping into the lab,” Miguel says with a grumpy face, just imagining how some members might abuse it for their personal fun.

You laugh. “I promise I won’t tell a soul.”

“I knew I could trust you,” Miguel replies, his grumpy face gone. The soft smirk is back. “But I didn’t bring you up here to show you the secret window.”

“No?”

“Nope. We’re going somewhere else, so follow me, please,” Miguel says.

“Alright, I’ll follow you,” you say and with that, the two of you swing off the building.

You follow Miguel and take in the sight of Nueva York. Living here for the last few weeks has made you grown used to it, a thought that brings back the realization from earlier when you were with Harry. You now see Nueva York as a second home and you don’t know when that even happened, but it has.

This universe is a home to you now.

Miguel makes a quick right and you follow right away, heading straight for a building’s rooftop. You land on it within seconds, your mind stirring with questions as Miguel looks behind his shoulder, as if making sure that you’re following along. A few more steps and you spot a box. You turn to Miguel, confused.

“Lunch,” Miguel says. “I thought I’d get some lunch for us from somewhere else other than the cafeteria.”

You smile, nodding. “I’m up for lunch.”

“Yeah?” Miguel says glancing at you as he takes a seat on the ground. He pats the ground next to the box with his hand, silently inviting you over.

“Yeah,” you reply as you take a seat, not wasting a second.

Miguel opens the box in which he’s kept the food secure, once again, thinking about everything. He takes out boxes with food and two to-go drinks. As he hands you a box, you instantly recognize the amazing scent. Tacos. You smile and remember the last time you had tacos with him on another rooftop here in Nueva York, which reminds you of what Gabriel used to say about them.

It’s then that you realize it. Miguel is trying to cheer up you after what happened this morning. You glance at the new gizmo, thinking. Did he show you the gizmos as a way to distract you?

“I got your favorite kind of tacos. And favorite salsa, too,” Miguel says as he hands you small carry-out containers with your favorite salsa. “And we have agua de horchata.”

You accept everything with a smile. “Thank you. I appreciate it… A lot.”

Holding his box with food, Miguel stops passing out items to look at you. You stare at each other, soft smiles grazing your faces.

“Always,” Miguel responds gently with no doubt in his mind that you’ve pieced together his plan because he recognizes that knowing look on your face right now. “I hope you enjoy your food.”

“I will. It smells amazing,” you comment as you finally open your box. The sight of food makes your stomach grumble. You look at Miguel, who is already looking at you with a soft smirk on his face but he says nothing and instead hands you napkins.

You eat side by side, enjoying the view of the city in a comfortable silence. Below, you can hear the midday traffic and see the people of Nueva York out and about. It’s a peaceful moment, one that truly makes you forget about your lunch meeting with Harry tomorrow. It’s just Miguel and you, nothing else.

You eventually finish eating and together, you collect everything, minus your cups, to avoid leaving a mess. You take a sip from yours, the sweet horchata hitting differently now. You sigh and place your cup down on the ground.

Miguel glances over at you. That sigh is not out of exhaustion. It’s one of frustration. He sighs, too. He tried to keep your mind off it for a little bit but of course, the gizmo and the lunch isn’t going to make you forget about it. In about twenty-four hours, you’ll be in your universe having lunch with Harry Osborn.

He clears his throat, wondering if he should bring it up. A part of him feels that he has no right to, especially when it’s about someone from your past - someone who meant a lot to you. Then again, it worries Miguel that you seem so tense about this situation, even anxious, and he truly hates seeing you like this. He sighs again, wishing he could do more.

“I know you’re not asking anyone for their thoughts or advice and I don’t want to intrude,” Miguel starts, getting your attention. “But… you don’t have to meet with him, you know?” He continues, his voice gentle and with an unwavering gaze. “At least not tomorrow. You can always arrange another time if you’re not ready.”

You nod, holding his gaze and feeling reassurance from both his words and gentle tone. It soothes your nerves.

“I feel nervous about it, not as much as I did earlier, though. It’s just that it’s been so long since I last saw him but… I think I need to. I feel like it will do me good,” you reply.

Miguel nods. “I understand that. If you’re certain about it, I’m glad you’re doing it. Whatever you decide, I’ll be here,” Miguel states, genuinely. “Supporting you. “

“Thank you,” you say softly. “I really appreciate it, Miguel, truly. I know you did this to cheer me up, and it means a lot. It helped me,” you tell him.

He smiles warmly at you. “It’s not much but I’m glad it helped you, even just a little,” he replies.

“It helped me a lot,” you correct him. “I do feel better, less nervous now.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Miguel says sincerely, still smiling.

“Your brother was right,” you state, still holding his gaze.

“Was he?”

“Yes, definitely. There’s nothing like tacos to lift someone’s spirits.”

Miguel chuckles before taking a sip from his drink. “He would be very proud to hear you agree with him, you know. He’d probably turn to me and say something like, ‘told you so,’ as if I ever disagreed with him.”

You chuckle at that, thinking about Gabriel. It would’ve been amazing to have met him.

“When did he come up with those wise words?” you ask, causing Miguel to snort softly.

“He was in his junior year of college during finals season, so I guess he really needed a pick-me up.”

“Understandable,” you reply. “Finals season is brutal.”

“I know,” he says, curious now that you mention college. “How did you manage those days? I’m curious.”

“You are?” you ask.

“Well, yes,” Miguel replies, thinking once again about how there’s so much about your life he doesn’t know of, and the truth is, Miguel would like to know more. “I’d like to know if you were the kind of student that rested properly those nights or if you pulled all-nighters. That says a lot about a person, you know.” Miguel gives you a playful smile.

You laugh softly. “I drank a lot of coffee.”

“I feel like I knew that already,” he replies, smiling. “What about my question though?”

“Well… I tried to rest as much as I could but there were times I did pull all-nighters. Other times I opted to sleep early and wake up at like 4am to begin studying.”

“So a little of both. I pulled all-nighters. A lot,” Miguel shares. “What was your favorite place to study?”

You smile and take a sip of your drink before you answer his question, one of many, as Miguel continues to ask about your college days and sharing about his own. In the end, the conversation itself boosts your mood, something that relieves Miguel. _☆_

The next day, you sit in the kitchen. It’s a rainy day in Nueva York and the weather forecast says thunderstorms are expected tonight.

A glass with agua de Jamaica is placed in front of you, along with half a sandwich Miguel prepared. You have about thirty minutes before you need to head to your universe to meet with Harry, but Miguel insisted in you having something to eat before you meet up with him.

“Uno nunca sabe [one never knows]. You might not like the food you order and then you’ll be hungry for the remaining time. You might get a headache, or something. At least you’ll have some food in your system if that’s the case,” Miguel said trying to convince you earlier today at the lab. He left out the part about him sensing your growing tension as time ticked by, and that he’s worried about you not eating properly in your nervous headspace. He even proposes splitting the sandwich between you in hopes that you’ll agree, which you do to his relief.

You can’t turn down the idea. Miguel does have a point, and you also think to yourself about your nervousness. You may eat very little even if the food is great just because of your nerves.

You take a bite of your half sandwich, looking up at Miguel as he takes a sip of his drink, his half of the sandwich almost gone. The fact that you’re sharing a sandwich feels very funny all of a sudden, but it’s also sweet that Miguel worried about you eating something, just in case.

It’s also sweet because it’s midday and Miguel is here, at the penthouse, instead of at HQ. The two of you left together and while you got changed into regular clothes upstairs, Miguel prepared the sandwich and glasses of agua de Jamaica.

You finish the sandwich and drink from your glass. You tell yourself it’s fine, that this is just - lunch. You’ll probably talk about Peter and maybe about what the two of you have been up to. That’s when you realize you’ll need to come up with some story about working somewhere, and about doing something other than what you’ve been doing all these years, or Harry might become suspicious.

“What’s wrong?” Miguel asks, noticing the worried look on your face. He straightens up, standing across from you, alarmed.

“I just realized I might have to come up with some lie about working somewhere. No one other than Peter ever knew about me being Spider-Woman, so if Harry asks, I guess I’ll have to lie.”

Miguel nods and thinks about that.

“You can tell the truth, just keep it vague. You do work at the Spider Society and do a lot,” he says.

You nod thinking about the tasks you help with at the Spider Society. “You’re right. Okay, no names. Just keep it vague.”

Miguel gives you a reassuring smile, feeling bad that you’re worried. This situation has caught you by surprise so much and he hates that because you seem nervous and tense, something he’s not used to seeing. He dislikes seeing you out of your usual self - calm and happy. He leans on the counter to be your height, hoping he can ease some of your nerves.

“It’s going to be okay,” Miguel says gently, his gaze soft as he meets your eyes. “It’s just lunch. It’ll probably last about an hour and a quarter of that time will be spent eating and drinking. It’ll be over before you even realize, trust me. And don’t worry about answering all his questions, if he asks any. You don’t have to answer them nor give him explanations for anything. It’s not an interview,” Miguel adds. “You’ll be okay, I know it.”

You smile at Miguel, his words sinking in, calming you. “Thank you, that - that really helps,” you say, sighing softly and feeling reassured.

“Always. Just remember to breathe,” Miguel adds. “Everything will be okay.”

You nod, repeating those words. Everything will be okay. It’s just lunch and it’ll be over before you realize. You don’t have to answer all of Harry’s questions nor give explanations. You’ll be okay. You stare back at Miguel, letting his words continue to calm you.

A random notification from your gizmo reminds you it’s almost time. You look at the screen to confirm. You now have about fifteen minutes until lunch with Harry.

“I should head out now,” you say, glancing back at Miguel, but you really don’t feel like leaving.

“Yeah, it’s almost time,” Miguel replies, not moving an inch and still leaning on the counter, his gaze set on you.

You nod. “I should finish my drink first though. I don’t want to waste the agua de Jamaica.” You lift your glass and take a sip.

“I can serve you more if you’d like,” Miguel offers, looking at the pitcher. “It’s very refreshing.”

“It is,” you respond. “I think I’ll have just a little more, please.”

“Of course.” Miguel moves at last and reaches for the pitcher.

You hold out your glass and he serves more of the maroon liquid, refilling it entirely.

“If you want more, just let me know,” he says placing the pitcher down.

You thank him and drink some more, Miguel’s gaze back on you.

You take your time drinking the water, not rushing at all. Miguel doesn’t seem preoccupied with the time either, as if he doesn’t have any work to do at HQ - as if it’s normal for him to be at home in the middle of the day on a weekday.

It’s about five minutes later that Lyla pops out of nowhere.

“Oh, you guys are still here? I thought you were gone already to your lunch,” she says looking at you before turning to Miguel. “And I thought you’d be doing some work somewhere in the multiverse. Shouldn’t you be going? You have - like eight minutes left,” Lyla continues, displaying a countdown for a few seconds before she disappears.

“Right. I should get going, or I might be late,” you say before downing the rest of your drink and standing up. You glance at Miguel. “I’m heading out now.”

Straightening up, Miguel nods in understanding. “Yes, alright… You don’t want to be late.”

“No, that would look bad.”

”And it’s unlike yourself to be late,” Miguel says, exhaling deeply. He unconsciously taps his pinky finger on the counter. “Do you have everything you need?”

Miguel’s question reminds you to check, so you quickly make sure you do. Today, you’re taking a handbag with you to store all your items, specifically your gizmo, so Harry doesn’t see it. You were lucky yesterday to be wearing something that hid your wrists, but today you’re wearing clothes that don’t easily conceal the device. You nod once you confirm. “Yes, it seems so.” You sigh softly and look back at Miguel, giving him another nod. It’s time to go, you tell yourself, curling your hand into a soft fist at your side. Your pinky finger flexes slightly but you ignore it. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Miguel nods, his tapping pinky finger going still at last. “I’ll be at HQ… I’ll see you there.” Miguel pauses, wanting to say something else. “Don’t hesitate to reach out if you need assistance of any kind,” he says, summarizing all of his thoughts with that sentence alone, even though he wants to say more, like how he’d meet you somewhere - anywhere - if you need to talk, or if you need a moment far away from everything.

You smile softly and nod. “I will, thank you. I’ll see you at HQ in an hour or so, then.”

“In an hour or so, then,” Miguel repeats, nodding.

Time is ticking and you remember that Lyla said you have about eight minutes. At least two more have gone by, which means you must have about six minutes left to leave and make it to the location. And yet, you feel rooted to the ground, right there in Miguel’s kitchen.

You remind yourself that you don’t want to be late, that you don’t want to seem disrespectful. That’s what makes you take a step back at last. You break your gaze away from Miguel and look down at your gizmo, preparing it to open a portal.

“Alright, I’m heading out now, or else, I’ll really be late,” you state, sheepishly.

Miguel nods, knowing you really must go now or you’ll definitely be a few minutes late. So, together, you walk to the living room where you finally open the portal to your universe.

Miguel’s pinky finger begins to flex over and over again as he walks just a few feet behind you. You turn to face Miguel.

“Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it. It’ll be alright. Just enjoy yourself. Remember,” Miguel pauses.

“It’s just a lunch,” you say, remembering his reassuring words from earlier.

“It’s just a lunch.” Miguel nods. It’s just a lunch with an old friend. You’ll be fine. You won’t be in harm’s way, he tells himself. Miguel’s gaze turns to the living room’s windows for just a fraction of a second, which reminds him that it’s pouring outside and that usually, the weather matches across universes. “Wait.”

Miguel turns and walks back to the kitchen before you can say anything, heading straight for the door that leads to the hallway where the laundry room and second office is located. You see him enter the laundry room for a few seconds before he walks out again with an umbrella in his hand. He walks back to you, reaching you in no time due to his long strides. He hands it to you. “Just in case it’s raining there, too. If it’s not, you can just leave it somewhere in the meantime, but please take it. I don’t want you getting caught in the rain without an umbrella and getting sick.”

Smiling, you accept the umbrella and nod. “Thank you. I actually forgot it’s raining and that it might be the same at my universe. I’ll keep it with me, just in case.” You tightly hold the umbrella in your hand, feeling a physical itch in your pinky finger that you try to ease by pressing your fingers together. “I’m ready,” you say, even though it’s not the truth because you suddenly feel like you’re forgetting something. You ignore the sensation and at last, turn around and begin to walk into the portal but before you fully enter it, you look over your shoulder to look at Miguel. “I’ll meet you at the lab!”

“Sounds good, I’ll wait for you there!” Miguel replies, watching as you disappear fully from his sight. “In an hour or so,” Miguel says out loud to himself.

He stands in the same spot until the portal fades completely and it’s only then when he notices his pinky finger flexing. He raises his hand and holds it out where the portal was just now.

Pinky hug, Miguel thinks to himself, but it’s too late now because you’re already gone.

Miguel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose for a few seconds before he shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. He walks back to the kitchen, deciding to wash the glasses you both used before he returns to HQ.

“Done pouting?” Lyla asks, appearing once again, as he picks up your glass from the counter.

“Who’s pouting?”

“You were just now.”

“Do you have nothing else to do?”

“I always have things to do.”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Miguel replies as he washes the glasses.

Lyla shrugs, watching Miguel. She notices the frown once again, the one that’s been present ever since a certain someone stepped into a portal and left Nueva York looking like they were being forced to. After a few seconds, she sighs. “She’ll be fine.”

“What?” Miguel asks distractedly, his mind somewhere else, in another universe that’s not his but one that feels like home regardless.

“She’ll be fine. Don’t worry too much about her. She’s Spider-Woman, you know.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow with a stern look on his face before he returns his attention back to the sink. He wants to argue that he’s not worried but that would be a lie. Miguel finishes washing the dishes before he dries his hands. He sighs and places the towel down. “Yeah… She’ll be okay.”

“That’s the spirit,” Lyla says even though there was little enthusiasm in Miguel’s words. “How about you head back to HQ? You have about three spider members looking for you.”

“I step out for an hour and everybody needs me,” Miguel says rolling his eyes.

“Well, to be fair no one is used to you leaving out of nowhere.”

“I leave all the time.”

“Not in the middle of the day to head to your penthouse. It’s always for a mission or something in regards to the Spider Society but today you’re here,” Lyla says. “It’s strange.”

“Alright, alright. Ya [Ok], I’m going back to HQ,” Miguel says heading to one of the windows to slip out of the penthouse. Outside, Miguel glances back inside the penthouse with a sigh. He finally closes the window and leaves, his mind still whirling with thoughts.

He reaches HQ in no time and sure enough, when he arrives there’s people waiting for him. Miguel takes care of the tasks, feeling like at least these distractions will keep him from thinking about where you’re at right now. Or rather, who you’re with.

It’s not even ten minutes later after the last person left when Miguel hears multiple sets of footsteps. He’s definitely not in the mood for visitors but his eyebrows raise when he sees who it is.

Hobie, Pav, and Miles.

“Miguel,” Hobie says, hands in his pockets, in black and white.

“Hey, Miguel,” Pav says much softer as the three spider members approach him.

“Tío [uncle],” Miles acknowledges him with a little wave.

“Hobie. Pav. Miles,” Miguel addresses them, standing on his ground level platform. He does a glance over, noticing they seem to be in a somber mood, which sends alarm bells in Miguel’s head. “Has something happened?” Miguel asks, now noticing that Hobie is in black and white, a sign that he’s not in a good mood. He learned about Hobie changing colors depending on his mood and who’s around him a while back. Hobie’s appearance makes Miguel wonder.

“So this guy,” Hobie starts. “Harry Osborn.” __☆

Upon stepping out into your own universe, you’re grateful to Miguel for being so thoughtful. Droplets of cold rain splatter on you before you immediately open the umbrella to shield yourself. Under Miguel’s umbrella, you waste no time and make your way down the building you chose as your location, saving yourself a lot of walking and even swinging to avoid any suspicions since you’re not wearing your Spider-Woman suit. You didn’t even bring it with you, so you hope there’s no need for it, or else you’ll have to travel back to Nueva York to retrieve it.

As you approach the entrance of the building where you’ll be having lunch, you briefly think about how convenient a holographic suit option could be in times like these. You could’ve easily thrown the little chip in your handbag, or sewn a secret pocket into your clothes and keep it there.

Maybe you’ll tell Miguel about it later. He did offer one a few months back when he accidentally made some rips to your suit when he was in the infirmary. You sigh as you make your way to another floor, thinking about how your suit is quite old. You’ve had it since before Peter died, maybe a year or two before his death, and you’ve refused to change it because he helped you design it.

You can tell these days that the fabric feels differently from so much wear. It has seen better days for sure, yet, you feel like you’d be parting away from a part of Peter if you change it. You know you’ll save it like every other suit you had before, so it’s not like you’d be throwing it away, but this one feels different because it was the last one he helped you design.

As you enter the designated floor, you think about it. Maybe you’ll ask Miguel about it, at least get his opinion. You’re sure he’d like to help you.

You glance at the umbrella again, now closed, and think of Miguel and how thoughtful he is. Not only that, but he’s been so comforting and assuring of this whole situation, so openly and without hesitation, too.

Just as you’re about to slip off your gizmo to put it away, you see a bunch of notifications come through from your other friends, all wishing you luck with your meeting.

You told them about Harry and today’s lunch a few hours after Miguel and you returned from lunch yesterday. Just like Miguel, they were able to tell that you were nervous even if they didn’t say anything about it. You smile as you read the encouraging words from them now before you activate the “Do not Disturb” mode and place it in your handbag.

You enter the main room and search for Harry as you take in the setting, noticing it’s a bit on the sophisticated side and filled with individuals in business attire. You imagine they’re probably some of the richest people in the city, considering Harry is one himself.

At last, you spot Harry when he stands up to greet you, so you head his way.

“Hey, you made it despite the weather,” Harry says with a smile.

“I did. It’s definitely raining out there,” you reply, giving him a small smile.

You both stand there for a few seconds, not knowing how to properly greet each other. Do you give him a handshake and make it formal? A hug, on the other hand, feels far too personal.

“Allow me,” Harry finally says before he pulls the other chair for you.

You thank him before sitting down, wondering how awkward this will be if neither of you were able to figure out how to greet each other. You calm yourself with Miguel’s words as Harry returns to his seat. It’s just lunch and it’ll be fine. Time will fly and it’ll be over before you realize.

“I’m relieved that you came,” Harry says adjusting his suit’s jacket. “I must admit… As I saw the time, I thought you had changed your mind - which I wouldn’t blame you for.” Harry looks down at the table. “But I’m glad you came. Thank you,” he says softly.

You nod. It didn’t occur to you to cancel on him. It was Miguel who suggested that you could meet him another time until you were ready since he noticed your tension.

“It never crossed my mind, to be honest. I’m glad I was able to make it, too, despite the weather. Thank you for the invitation,” you reply.

“Of course…” he responds giving you a brief smile before a waiter approaches your table.

You both order drinks to start and take a minute or two to look at the menu. Looking over it, you feel thankful that this alone will take some minutes.

You subtly glance up at Harry, his eyes on the menu. He also seems to not know what to do.

Turning your attention back to the menu, you realize you’re honestly not hungry after the half sandwich Miguel made and drinking so much agua de Jamaica, but you must order something. You finally find something that sounds light and hope it’s good.

“My dad loves this place,” Harry says placing his menu down. “They have great food and it helps that it’s close to Osborn Industries.”

“Yeah, I bet that makes it very convenient for a busy man like him.”

“I think so. And of course, he runs into old friends, too, so that must be another pro to the place,” Harry says glancing around, which makes you wonder if he recognizes anyone.

You nod. “It’s very beautiful, too. Lovely view,” you say glancing towards the windows.

“I’m glad you like it.”

You nod at each other, falling into a silence that’s somehow alleviated by the waiter who arrives with the drinks. He provides a small buffer between you as he takes your orders but all too soon, he’s gone.

As Miguel would say, shock, you think to yourself while taking a sip from your drink.

__☆

“Alright, so… You’re all unhappy about this lunch meeting?” Miguel asks after listening to the three spiderlings. It seems that they just wanted to vent, even Hobie.

“… Yes,” Pav replies.

“Yep,” Hobie responds at the same time as Pav.

“It’s just - I don’t know why Y/N accepted,” Miles asks in sync with the other two.

“Why?” Miguel asks.

“Because… Why is this guy now showing up?” Hobie replies. “So many years have passed since Peter’s death. It just doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Or, me,” Miles adds and Pav nods.

Miguel raises an eyebrow. He can’t deny that he’s thought about that, too, about how sudden this all feels, but then again it happens, for better or worse. Plus, there's something else in Miguel's mind - something about Harry Osborn's sudden reappearance in your life that's gnawing at him. He can't pinpoint it right now in the presence of the three spider members.

He sighs and leans on his platform. It’s at least nice to know he’s not the only one having thoughts about this encounter between you and Harry, however, he’s not going to add to their worries with his own. No, Miguel is going to try and calm their worries as best as he can, they are, after all, still so young. And whether he realizes it or not, the paternal side of him feels the urge to ease their concerns.

“Look, guys,” Miguel starts, looking somewhere else, trying to gather his thoughts. After a few seconds, his red eyes shift back to theirs. “As much as we’d like to be there with her right now and question Osborn about his decision almost five years ago - question what kind of person does that to their friend,” Miguel says with a sharp tone. His relaxed face turns stoic at the thought of Osborn ghosting you right after Peter’s funeral - a change the other three Spider-Men notice - before Miguel reminds himself to calm down. “Believe me, I have many thoughts about that,” he says irritated but as he continues on, his voice and face expression become softer as he speaks of you. “But Y/N - she - she’s incredible. She’s a brilliant woman and I think we all know that. If she made the decision to meet him, we must support it. She knows what she’s doing - knows what she needs - and maybe this is a closure for her. As her friends… what matters is that we respect it and support her, the way she’s always supported us.”

Miguel meets everyone’s gazes, trying to drive his words home to make the younger members understand. He understands where they’re coming from but at the end of the day, they all need to respect your decision and support you. At last, they nod.

“It’s a good thing we’re not there, or we’d give this guy an earful,” Miles says, frowning.

Miguel nods in agreement. Harry Osborn is lucky it’s just you and not the entire spider gang, otherwise, he’d be receiving glares left and right.

“More than an earful,” Hobie says with a sigh.

“Personally, I think that guy needs a chat,” Pav says, nodding. “But we must respect Y/N.”

Miguel smiles a bit, glad to hear that the younger members have settled down a bit. He sighs before he straightens up and presses a button. His platform rises just enough so that Miguel can sit on it and have his long legs dangle from it. Three seconds later, Miles joins him with a sigh.

“So, I guess we wait,” Miles says.

“We wait,” Miguel repeats before all four Spider-Men fall into a silence.

Pav ends up taking a seat on Miguel’s other side. Meanwhile, Hobie stands, looking off to the side, still in black and white. About a minute or two passes when Miguel’s stomach grumbles, causing everyone to look at him.

“Did you have lunch?” Pav asks.

“No,” Miguel replies. “Well, I had half a sandwich.”

“Half a sandwich?” Hobie asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I split it with Y/N. I made it so she could eat something before she left, just in case.”

The younger spider members stare at each other at that. Miguel O’Hara made a sandwich and split it in half with you?

“That’s - kind of you,” Hobie says at last looking down at one of his boots, thinking.

“Very thoughtful,” Pav says smiling.

“I’m sure she really appreciated that,” Miles says with a little smile, sharing a look with Pav as Miguel looks at the floor.

“What time is it?” he asks, a question that Miles answers. He closes his eyes for a few seconds. It hasn’t even been thirty minutes.

“I think I saw a new batch of empanadas being put out,” Hobie says looking up.

Miguel looks up at Hobie and nods. “I might go in a bit and check, thanks for letting me know.”

“Sure,” he says, shrugging before he slips his hands into his vest, pink spots appearing randomly in his appearance.

“Where’s everyone else at?” Miguel asks curiously.

“They’re all spread out around HQ. Waiting for Y/N to come back,” Hobie responds.

“I see,” Miguel replies with a nod, thinking about your comment from two nights ago and how true it is.

Not only do you have each other, but the spider gang, too. __☆

“So…” Harry starts, clasping his hands over the table.

“How is work?” you ask, deciding to take control of the conversation.

Harry blinks in surprise, taken a back. He composes himself quickly though. “Good - it’s going good. Busy, which is good. It keeps me occupied,” he says, nodding.

“That’s great to hear,” you reply nodding. “Busy is good. And I’m sure Mr. Osborn is more than happy with that - with him always being so happy to work and staying busy.”

“Oh yeah, he loves it,” Harry says with a smile. “He’s happy having so much to do. I always have to remind him to take a moment, otherwise he’d be running around the building - wanting to be involved in everything. By the way, I told him we ran into each other. He was very happy to hear that you’re doing well.”

You smile warmly at that. Mr. Osborn was always kind with Peter and you, so much that he even offered internships at Osborn Industries at one point. Growing up, you saw him look after Harry like a father should despite being a single working parent. He always made time for every single school function Harry was involved in.

“Well, he’s a working man,” you say. “And I’m touched, thank you. I’m happy to hear he’s doing well, too.”

Harry nods, lifting his glass to take a sip. He sighs and looks at the windows. “This rain. It reminded me of the time Peter…” he trails off, looking back at you.

“You may talk about Peter,” you say. “I’m not going to fall apart listening to a memory about him.”

“I didn’t mean to make it seem like that.”

“I’m just letting you know,” you reply. “Almost five years later, I’m still learning to move forward, but I’ve grieved and healed some. It may not seem like it, but I have. Slowly but surely.”

The reminder of how much time has passed, almost five years in a few months, hits Harry. He stays quiet for several seconds.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to - I don’t know what you’ve been through all these years and I didn’t want to potentially upset you by bringing up a memory of him. I’m thankful that you’ve tried to move forward. Peter… Peter would’ve wanted that.”

You nod at Harry’s last statement. You never told Harry about Peter’s last words but he is right. Peter asked you to try and move forward. You sigh. “Thank you for trying to be considerate, but you don’t have to worry about upsetting me. So… what were you going to say?” you ask him, genuinely wanting to know because the truth is, Harry is one of the few people in this universe that can tell you stories about Peter. Everyone in your life as of right now never knew him, so for years, your memories alone are what you’ve held on to.

With a small smile, Harry continues. “I was thinking about this day when we were in college. It was raining so hard when we got out of a lecture but Peter simply pulled his rain jacket’s hood over his head. He didn’t want to wait. When I asked him where he was off to in a hurry, he said home. He told me he’d send me a message later and said bye before he headed into the rain. I remember standing outside under the roof and watching him take off, that Spider-Woman enamel pin on his backpack standing out in the rain. It was later when he told me he went to see you,” Harry says softly.

As Harry shares his memory, you smile, remembering that day. “I remember that day. He was soaked. My parents and I had to find him dry clothes,” you say. “And the Spider-Woman pin,” you pause and chuckle, remembering it now after so long. “He kept it all the way to the end of college. I still have it with his belongings.”

“I swear he was the biggest Spider-Woman fan,” Harry says with a soft chuckle. “Do you remember when…” Harry continues as more memories flood his mind.

The two of you continue to talk about the old days even when your food is brought to the table and thankfully, that’s the topic of discussion until the end. An hour later, and feeling much more at peace, you’re both standing in the first floor’s lobby. The rain hasn’t stopped at all.

“Do you want a ride home?” Harry offers.

“I’m alright, thank you though. I have my umbrella,” you say holding it up.

“Right,” Harry says with a bit of a disappointed look on his face. He clears his throat. “Thank you for agreeing to have lunch with me. I really enjoyed… Talking to you after so long.”

“I did, too,” you say gently, finding it to be true. After so many nerves, you ended up calming thanks to the memories of Peter. You silently thank him and wonder what he thinks of today from wherever he is. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course.” Harry nods. He stares at you for a few seconds, debating. “I was hoping - I want to ask you something,” Harry says. “It may be too much, but I can’t help myself from asking. Talking to you… It felt like the old times when we used to talk. I didn’t realize how much I missed that until today. I was wondering if - if we could meet again. For lunch, or dinner. Or, anything, really.”

You stare up at him, holding your umbrella and your handbag.

“You don’t have to say yes now. Think about it. I’ll understand if you don’t want to see me again, but just think about it,” he says with a sad smile before he retrieves his wallet. He pulls out a small piece of paper, a business card, and a pen from his top’s pocket. He scribbles quickly and hands you the business card. “My personal number, outside of work. If you’re open to it, call me whenever you want. I’ll get back to you if I miss your call. Just - think about it, okay?”

Holding the business card now, you glance at it for a few seconds, reading the scribbled phone number. You nod before placing it inside your handbag, unsure about your answer. “Thank you. I’ll - think about it.”

Harry nods. He wasn’t expecting a quick yes. “May I call you a ride, at least?”

“I’m alright, Harry. It’s just a little rain. I’ll be fine, truly. Thank you, though.”

“Alright. Please be careful on your way back,” he says, his eyes taking in the sight of you before you part ways. It might be the last time he sees you, after all.

“Likewise,” you reply. “Stay safe,” you add before you give him a small wave and exit the building, feeling his gaze. __☆

Miguel reads data from a screen. It's the fourth time he's read over a paragraph and the information doesn't stick. He slides the screen away. Maybe he should focus on something else that requires less attention.

“Your roommate is back. She's outside the lab asking if she can come in,” Lyla says popping up next to Miguel.

“She's back? I'm gla - Tell her yes. She can come in,” Miguel replies, his face lighting up.

Lyla nods and disappears. A few seconds later, Miguel can hear your footsteps before you step into view. There you are, already in your suit and with a smile.

“I did say in an hour or so,” you say, approaching his platform.

Miguel chuckles quietly, a soft smile grazing his lips. “You did. Did you - Did you enjoy your lunch?”

Stepping onto the platform, you nod and look at him. When you first joined the Spider Society, you never imagined stepping on Miguel’s platform but it’s no longer a strange feeling. You now know how to operate everything on his platform these days after he taught you and a few other members when he was injured last year during the spring. Sometimes you even use the screens when you wish to see what you’re working on in a larger scale, sharing the platform with Miguel. And it’s why you feel comfortable stepping on it now, even leaning back with Miguel facing you. He leans to the side, watching you tentatively to gauge your reaction, trying to detect any negative emotions in you but your smile is a true one. You seem at peace and that makes Miguel relieved.

“It went well - after a few minutes of awkwardness. I’ll admit, at the beginning I was disappointed when the waiter left too soon after taking our orders.”

Miguel grins in amusement. “That sounds like a rough start.”

You chuckle and make a face at him, a playful one that inspires a short exhale of air from Miguel out of amusement and ternura [fondness, endearment]. “It was, but thankfully, it slowly got better. He brought up a memory of Peter, from our college days, and that was how we were finally able to get past the awkwardness. I think he was nervous, too. From that point on, we talked about other memories. As you said, it was over before I even realized, thankfully.”

“I’m glad to hear that - that you found something that eased your nerves and his,” Miguel replies, feeling glad that you didn’t spend over an hour of discomfort in Osborn’s presence.

You sigh softly, a sign to Miguel that there’s more. He watches you carefully as you glance at a screen.

“He gave me his personal phone number by the end of it - said that he’d like to meet again, if I was open to it.”

Miguel nods, absorbing these news for a few seconds. He’d like to ask what your thoughts are on that but he refrains from doing so. He believes you’ll tell him once you’re ready to share. Right now, he has a feeling you haven’t fully given it thought considering you just came back.

“I’ll be honest, I don’t know the answer yet,” you say at last, turning to meet his gaze again.

With a look of understanding, Miguel replies, “You have time to think about it. There’s no rush to make a decision today.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” You nod to yourself, thinking. You’ll take a few days to consider it, but in this moment, all you want to do is settle down for the day - have some normalcy. All day, since morning, you’ve felt nervous and now that the lunch is over, you feel as though it has taken a mental toll on you. “Have you seen the others?”

“According to Hobie, they’ve all taken posts around HQ, waiting for you to come back,” he says, offering you a gentle smile.

“Really?” you ask, your face softening.

“Yeah… Including myself,” Miguel admits quietly, looking away.

You smile, feeling like all the tension from the day is slowly melting away. “I was more than ready to come back,” you admit as well. “You’re all so sweet,” you add, wishing you could lunge yourself at Miguel right now to give him a big hug but alas, Miguel is not there yet. “I really am lucky.”

Miguel’s gaze turns back to you at that, a hint of a smile on his face that grows into his usual smile for you. “We are, too,” he replies softly, sending a warmth through your body with his words.

As you both stand there, you think about how you should go see the rest of the spider gang to let them know that you’re back, but for the second time today, you don’t feel like leaving Miguel’s presence. So, you both stand there in each other’s presence until you both hear thunder.

“I guess we are having thunderstorms,” you say, still leaning back. “But hopefully we’ll be at the penthouse by then.”

“I’m sure we will,” Miguel replies, suddenly wishing that it was later in the day already. “I think - I’m going to leave around the time you usually head out.”

“Yeah? You have something to do?” you ask softly.

He shakes his head but then nods. “Actually, yeah. I was thinking for dinner we could have burritos de tinga, if you’re up for it.”

“I’m always up for burritos de tinga.”

Miguel grins and straightens up, his head tilting to the side. “Really? I had no idea. I thought the reason you smile every time you have them is just coincidence,” he says with a soft smirk now, his voice playful.

You chuckle, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Ah, I see how it is now. In my defense, it’s not my fault you’re amazing in the kitchen. It’s your fault I love them so much, you know.”

Now Miguel chuckles, raising an eyebrow at you. “So now it’s my fault, eh? Very well, I’m guilty then, your honor.”

“Who is guilty?” Peter B. asks.

“And for what crime?” Jess asks.

Miguel and you turn, your eyes finding the spider gang. You straighten up as they all approach the platform.

“We heard you were back,” Pav says looking at you. “From Lyla.”

“I got back about ten minutes ago. It went well,” you reply, adding the last bit to ease any concerns from your friends. “It was just lunch,” you add, glancing at Miguel with a knowing look. He gives you a small smile before everyone surrounds the platform to ask you questions until the conversation turns to other things, like how it’s been raining all day and then to how your school age friends are not in school when they should be only to be told that you didn’t need to worry about that, at which Miguel and you shared another look.

Half an hour later, with everyone still in Miguel’s lab, Mayday swings to you to be held. You hold her, standing near Miguel as everyone else has their own conversation. The two of you watch in silence as your friends talk happily amongst themselves. You smile at the sight, thankful to be surrounded by friends once again.

The sight makes you wonder. Do you have space for one more, an old one, that is?

You fix Mayday’s wristband, the one she wears in order to travel through the multiverse with Peter as you think of Harry. Time will tell, sooner rather later.

“Miggle,” Mayday says looking over at Miguel.

“What did she say?” Peter asks, turning his attention to his daughter.

“Por favor no [please, no],” Miguel mutters next to you.

“Did she say ‘mingle?’” Peter asks coming over to his daughter with a bright smile.

You glance over at Miguel who looks like his face is about to turn into a grumpy one. “She said mingle,” you reply, with a smile to Peter. You hand her back to him.

“Another word! Mingle. Wow, where did she hear that? We haven’t taught her that one yet,” Peter says. “Good job, sweetie. Daddy is proud of you.”

After Peter walks away, still praising Mayday, you turn to Miguel, who is looking more than relieved. He glances at you. “Thank you. I know Peter would start calling me that if he heard it.”

You chuckle. “No worries. I got you cover.”

“Thankfully,” he replies relaxing.

After a few seconds and very quietly so only Miguel will hear, you speak again. “So, we are eating burritos de tinga, right, Miggle?”

“Yes, we are. We have all that we need to mak-” Miguel stops mid-sentence and turns to face you, eyes narrowed. “I see how it is.”

“What?” you ask, shrugging innocently.

“You said the m-word.”

You look away to hide your smile. “The m-word… All I said was your name. Miguel.”

“Yeah, okay, uhuh,” he replies. “Might not make the burritos after all.”

“Wait, no - please?” you say, turning to look at him. “Please, Miguel?” you add, emphasizing his name.

Miguel’s lips quiver as he fights the urge to smile but he gives up and almost rolls his eyes at himself. He’s too easily persuaded by you.

“Fine. Burritos de tinga for dinner,” he says with a smile. “But never call me that again with Peter within earshot, please,” he adds quietly for you to hear only.

You grin. “Alright, alright. I got it. Just don’t threaten my burritos de tinga, please. I can’t wait to get home,” you say happily.

Miguel chuckles, something inside him fluttering when he hears you say you’re ready to go home, to the penthouse. “Honestly, this weather makes me want to be home now. Maybe we can head out earlier…” he says softly as his eyes look around at your friends.

“I’d be down for that,” you reply.

“We’ll do that then, if nothing else comes up.”

To Miguel’s relief, and yours, nothing interferes with your plans. At the penthouse now, Miguel has a pan on the stove in which he’s cooking the tinga. The two of you are sitting side by side with your photo album laid out on the counter so the two of you can look at the photos. You brought it downstairs, wanting to look at more photos since the lunch with Harry unlocked memories you’ve been storing away.

Outside, the rain hasn’t let up and thunder has only increased since earlier when you were both in the lab. Thankfully, you are both at home now, shielded from the rain and in the comfort of the penthouse with Miguel’s record player on and delicious homemade food being cooked.

You lean back on your seat, still looking at the photos. Miguel’s eyes scan each one with close attention. You’re both in lounge clothes now, with plans to relax for the rest of the evening. You wonder if tonight you’ll go separate ways, or if you’ll hang out in the living room. You secretly hope it’s the latter, especially on an evening like this.

“Here we were at the student center,” you say softly as your eyes land on one photo of Peter and you in college. “It was some event for a student organization. I honestly can’t remember what it was called but somehow we got involved.”

Miguel chuckles quietly and nods. “So you joined clubs and organizations in college?”

“Yeah, I tried to,” you answer, remembering that that wasn’t something that came up yesterday when he was asking you questions of those days. “I got into honor ones and others.”

Miguel turns to look at you, a smile on his face. “I’m not surprised.”

Turning to face him, you smile, feeling a little shy. “Yeah, I was in a few.” You shrug as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Hmm.” Miguel turns back to look at the photos. “And look at those cords and medals,” Miguel says, gently tapping on a photo.

You look at the photo. “I earned a few.”

“Just a few, right,” Miguel says rolling his eyes playfully before he stands up. “Let me check on the food real quick.”

He checks the food, making sure it’s not burning and satisfied, he prepares everything to start heating tortillas before he returns to your side.

“Next page,” you say softly in a bit of a sing song voice as you turn the page. The photos on the new pages consist of both Peter and you, either photographed alone or together but one in particular catches Miguel’s eyes.

Peter and you are on a couch, sitting side by side. You’re both smiling but you’re the only one looking at the camera because Peter is looking at you. With his gaze glued to that photo, Miguel thinks about how there’s no doubt that Peter loved you. He can see it in the man’s eyes, the pure love and affection in them. You were the love of his life.

And Miguel knows you reciprocated all that love and affection. Despite the years since Peter’s death, your voice and face says it. You speak of him with love and fondness.

You both loved each other. So much.

Miguel gulps softly as he continues to stare at the photo. “You were so in love,” he says, so quietly you almost miss it.

You look at Miguel, following his gaze and realize what photo he’s focused on. You smile tenderly and nod. “We were.”

Miguel nods, his eyes still on the picture. “It looks like the kind of love that you only find once,” he comments. “The kind that a lot of people search for their entire lives.”

Still staring at the photo, you process Miguel’s words. You remember what Miguel told you about his wife and marriage a few days ago. You’ve been thinking about it since, how Miguel felt that he was in a loveless marriage, and that both him and his partner had only married to have a sense of family. By his words, Miguel has realized over time that he wasn’t truly in love with his partner. He loved her but not in a romantic way.

You reflect on his statements from just now - about searching for love and not finding it. Is that how he feels now? That he’s searched for it but hasn’t found it? That makes you wonder. Is Miguel still open to it? Or, has that door been shut?

You sigh softly and trace the photo with your fingertips, trying to find the right words.

“I’ve had the privilege of experiencing it - feeling it. To receive and return it,” you start, your gaze on the photo. “It’s truly a beautiful thing. All kind of love is, I believe, and our love, Peter’s and I… It was a beautiful one. I was - I am - fortunate to have experienced that kind of love,” you say, finally looking up at him. “However, I don’t believe that it’s a once in a lifetime thing.”

Miguel’s eyes turn to you, questioning. You shake your head.

“I think there are people who have the privilege of experiencing it twice, sometimes even more.” You give Miguel a soft smile. “That’s the thing about love, at least, that’s how I see it. I’m not a love expert,” you say, shrugging slightly. “But, I think love is so complex it can be found again. Perhaps it’s felt differently considering no relationship is the same but that doesn’t mean it’ll be felt with less intensity and connection - it wouldn’t be any less meaningful. You know - one time I remember reading something about this. It was something along the lines of how one can find the love of their life in one partner, and discover their soulmate in another one. I don’t know,” you say softly. “Maybe that makes no sense but… I think it’s possible. Love is love, as long as you love with your heart.”

Miguel nods slowly, your works sinking in just as a loud rumble of thunder fills the penthouse. It seems that over the last few minutes, the rain has grown stronger, and thunder and lightning have become more frequent. “You have a much positive perspective on it than most people do.”

You offer Miguel a small smile. “Maybe I’m naive, and there will be people who disagree, but that’s what I think. Especially, if you’re open to love again.”

Miguel nods, still staring at you as a question comes to mind. “And are… you?” He’s wondered this before - whether you’ve ever even considered the idea of a relationship after Peter, at least one in the future.

You hold his gaze and smile, another loud rumble filling the silence before you reply. “… I am. Just not now. I think I’ve been open to it for a while, the idea of it. One day, maybe. And that’s if I find someone that - you know.”

Miguel nods in understanding. He looks down at the album again. “Maybe one day,” he repeats, now staring at a photo of you alone, smiling at the camera. He silently wonders if Peter was the one who took the photo before he clears his throat, the penthouse’s lights flickering. “Thank you for sharing your thoughts,” he says sitting still for a few seconds before he stands up, remembering to check on the food. “It’s ready, how many burritos do you want?” he asks softly as he retrieves plates, thoughts of your reply in his mind.

You politely tell Miguel how many you’d like and while he prepares the burritos, you gather everything else that’s needed from glasses to napkins. All the while, the sound of rain against the windows grows. You notice the lights flicker a bit more but neither Miguel nor you think much of it, or at least, neither of you say anything about it. You put away your photo album, somewhere where you’ll see it and remember to take back upstairs to your room later on.

“Your burritos are ready,” Miguel says as you look out a window from a distance, watching as lightning scatters around the sky in bright flashes.

“Thank you,” you say turning back to the kitchen again, ready to serve drinks for both Miguel and you just as Miguel heads over to the counter, one plate in each hand.

Miguel has barely placed the plates down when the lights flicker again. You finish pouring the drinks, glancing up for a second.

“At least we still have-” you start.

“Power,” Miguel finishes your sentence, nodding.

Except, the lights flicker once again and this time, the penthouse goes dark. The music from the record player has cut off, so now it’s just the sound of the thunderstorm filling the air. After what feels like ten seconds, Miguel and you chuckle.

“We spoke too soon,” Miguel says, shaking his head in amusement. “Let me go and retrieve some flashlights. It usually doesn’t take long for it to be restored but we can’t have dinner in the darkness.”

“I have some candles upstairs,” you offer. “I’ll get those.”

“Okay, let me just - cover the food so it doesn’t get cold,” Miguel replies before the two of you head off in different directions to get what you need.

You come back downstairs with the candles and quickly light them up to get some lighting. You set them around the kitchen and dining room area, making sure to place each one in a safe area. As you place the last one, you hear Miguel’s footsteps, catching your attention. He steps back into the space, holding three flashlights, and looking around, he realizes your candles are more than sufficient for dinner. Either way, he places them on the counter to the side.

“The candles light up the place pretty well, what do you think?” you ask, meeting Miguel back at the countertop.

“I was just thinking that. No need for flashlights. I’ll leave them here either way, just in case you need one. Feel free to grab whichever. They all have new batteries,” Miguel says, tapping the flashlights before he gestures to your chair. “Come on, let’s eat before the food gets cold.”

With a smile, you nod and quickly reach his side before taking a seat. You both begin to eat your food, at last, over candlelight and thunderstorm sounds.

“Oh, yeah, I found this,” Miguel says as he reaches into his pocket. He places a device on the countertop between you and then a few rectangular pieces.

Cassette tapes.

“No way, cassette tapes?” you ask with excitement, which Miguel immediately detects.

“Yes. They became trendy a few years ago - back when Gabriel was still alive, actually - so, many years now. Gabriel is actually the owner of this one. Some of these tapes are his, and some are mine. I saw them once I got the flashlights and figured, why not, since we can’t use the record player right now. I hope it works though, I haven’t tried it.”

“I hope so, I’d love to hear your music taste from back then. And Gabriel’s, too,” you say with a grin.

“Well, I hope you’re not disappointed. I don’t remember a thing from these things,” Miguel says, nervous that the music might not be to your taste, or his at this point in his life. He sets the device up and to his surprise, it works. “This one is one of Gabriel’s tapes. Let’s see what the vibe was for it since he never labeled them,” Miguel says shaking his head in sibling disapproval.

You take a bite from your food as you wait for the music to start and seconds later it does.

“It worked,” you say.

“I’m surprised it did. It hasn’t been used in forever.”

You chuckle and lean back as the music continues. “This is nice. I like the vibes,” you say. “Seems like Gabriel had good taste in music.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow, glancing over and noticing the way the candles lit up your face in a gentle manner. “You’ve only heard half of this song. You should wait before you make a decision because sometimes he’d play music that wasn’t pleasant to the ears.”

You laugh softly. “Really now? And what did he think about yours?”

“Probably the same thing,” Miguel replies with a grin before he takes a bite from his food.

You laugh again before you continue to eat, listening to the music and talking with Miguel, enjoying the conversation. You thank him for dinner once you’re both done and together, you clean up by candlelight.

You’re happy when you both head to the living room afterwards, neither of you wanting to part ways tonight. The cassette player comes along with you, which Miguel places on the coffee table before he settles on the couch, opposite of you. The candles, which you both moved to the living room, now light up the space as there’s still no power over an hour later, but neither of you seem to mind. If anything, you’re both enjoying the randomness of this moment.

You pull your blanket over your lap and grab your book, one you left a few days ago on the coffee table, next to Miguel’s. You’ve noticed that he’s been reading lately, a hobby he mentioned a while back but one he hasn’t made the time for, especially because it reminded him of Gaby. You wonder if seeing you reading has inspired him to start again. Either way, seeing Miguel reading anything other than reports and data makes you happy, especially because he’s reading one of the books you gifted him for Christmas.

As you get settled to start reading, Miguel picks up his, joining you in reading while soft music plays in the background despite the thunderstorm going strong.

You both read for what feels like an hour, at times stealing glances at each other from across the coffee table, until Miguel closes his book and places it back. He stretches his legs and glances at you just as you flip a page, finishing a chapter. You look up at him and give him a small smile.

“Tired of reading?”

“Kind of. My eyes are, at least,” he replies before he rubs them, a sight that you find endearing. He lowers his hands and glances at you. “What about you?”

You tilt your head to the side. “I think I’m done reading for tonight, too.” You repeat Miguel’s actions, closing and putting away your book, next to his again - spine to spine. “It’s still early,” you comment.

“It is,” he responds, looking around, thinking.

You look around yourself, spotting your tablet on the coffee table. “Do you want to look at new ideas I have for the penthouse? I found a few ideas you might like.” You look up at Miguel, waiting for his reply. “Unless, you want to do something else, then I can show them to you later.”

“No, no, let’s - look at them now. Please,” Miguel replies, looking at you. “I’d like to see what you found.”

You grin and prepare yourself to stand up.

“I’ll go to you,” Miguel says, making you stop before you even really began moving. He’s up and in front of you in the blink of an eye, taking a seat on the ground near you. He grabs the tablet and hands it to you before he pushes the coffee table away so he can stretch his long legs comfortably.

You feel a little in awe with how fast he moved but shake it off. You get off the couch and sit next to him on the ground, pulling your blanket along with you, which unintentionally ends up covering part of Miguel’s lap. Finally settled, you pull up saved photos and begin to show them to Miguel, who gives you his full attention. He nods and hums in approval, telling you when he really likes something. You feel a sense of satisfaction when you’re done showing him everything you saved because not once did he show disapproval.

“I like all of those ideas. Do you think we can work on it this weekend?” Miguel asks.

“Definitely. I’m up for it, if you are.”

“I’m up for it,” Miguel replies, still sitting next to you. He smiles softly as you scroll through other saved pictures. “You seem to have more ideas.”

“These are not that great,” you say, making a face of disapproval. “I found better ones later on.”

Miguel hums in response, still smiling. He watches as you make a movement in your tablet, moving pictures around. Despite being done with the photos, both of you remain in place, not moving. After a few minutes, you suggest finishing flipping through the photo album from earlier, something Miguel says yes to.

So, you find yourselves, once again, looking over your photo album. You flip through each page, telling Miguel the stories connected to the photos.

And Miguel? Miguel listens to every word you say, his gaze shifting between you as you talk and the photos.

Before either of you realize it, you close the photo album. “That’s it for this one. I have more, maybe I can show them to you later,” you say.

“I’d like that,” Miguel responds as he watches you place the album on the coffee table before you lean back on the couch, still sitting on the ground with Miguel. You sigh softly. “You tired?” he asks you softly, wondering if the day’s exhaustion has finally caught up with you.

“Nope,” you reply with a smile. “If anything, this weather and the music makes me want to stay up and simply enjoy the evening for a little longer, especially… In the presence of great company.”

That makes Miguel smile. “We can do that.”

You nod, getting more comfortable. You glance at the flickering candles, thinking about what a lovely evening this has been despite having no power and the day’s events. Miguel and you are simply enjoying each other’s presence over his brother’s music in the dim lit living room while it rains. There’s something about it - it’s so homey.

You slide lower, resting your head on the couch’s cushion.

“Do you want to lie down?”

You glance at Miguel. “Hmm, I might. I think - I think I’m going to stay up for a while longer. You?”

“… Same. If you’ll have me,” he says, which causes you to smile.

“It’s your living room.”

“And? It’s your living room, too.”

You look away at that, your cheeks suddenly feeling warm.

“It’s the truth,” Miguel says quietly. “You’re living here, for now, so… I said it before. My home is your home.”

“Thank you,” you say softly.

“Always.”

A few seconds of silence later, you lay down and stare up at the ceiling. “This is kind of a moment - a vibe.”

“Is it?” Miguel replies, glancing down at you for a second. He reaches behind him and pulls something. “Lift your head,” he says and once you do, you feel him slide one of the decorative pillows under your head.

You thank Miguel for the kind gesture, unable to stop yourself from smiling about it. You lay there for several minutes, Miguel sitting at your side until he eventually lays down, too.

You both listen as a new song starts to play. It’s the kind that’s perfect for a rainy evening such as this one - soft and slow, and yet sweet and groovy.

“I wanna plant you in my heart, oh, so love can grow…”

Miguel lays there, listening to the song. Gabriel always found gems when it came to music, Miguel will give him that. He continues to listen to the song but his mind shifts to other topics without wanting to, such as his comment from a few minutes ago.

“You’re living here, for now, so… I said it before. My home is your home.”

For now. You’re living here for now.

Once again, Miguel thinks about how great it’s been to have you here, staying with him. He doesn’t want to think about the day you return to your universe. He’s tried to avoid thinking about it and for the most part, it has worked. Until now.

“May I tell you something?” Miguel asks as you both lay on the ground.

“Of course.”

“I’ve been thinking about your apartment - when construction is completed and it’s livable again.”

You glance at him but Miguel is staring right at the ceiling, unable to meet your gaze.

“You have…?” you ask gently, wondering where Miguel is going with this.

“Yes… I’ve been thinking about it. Is it crazy that I,” Miguel pauses, wondering if he should really say what’s on his mind but ultimately, he says it. “I’m going to - miss you,” he says at last with a sigh. A few seconds later, Miguel turns his head to face you, his red eyes find yours. And like always, there’s no judgement from you. Instead, Miguel finds a smile.

“I’m going to miss you, too,” you say softly, your heart swelling with pride, affection, and love for Miguel because you know sometimes it’s hard for him to share his feelings and thoughts and yet, he’s done it tonight.

Miguel’s eyes widen a little at your words, as if there was doubt in his mind that you would miss him, too.

“A lot, actually,” you say, looking away now.

Miguel’s lips twitch upwards into a small smile. “You are?”

You glance back at him, finding his smile. It brings one to your face, too, because Miguel seems genuinely happy to hear your words. “Yeah,” you reply. “You seem happy.”

“I’m just glad I’m not the only one feeling like that,” he confesses, still smiling.

“You are not. I… I’ve actually thought about how quickly I got used to living with someone again - with you.”

“Me, too,” Miguel says before he rolls on his side, supporting his head with his hand, staring at you. “I think we’re… We’ve been great roommates.”

That statement makes you smile a little more. You nod before you copy Miguel’s position, so that you’re both facing each other now. “I think so, too.”

Miguel gives you a little grin, satisfied to hear that you agree, but a part of him still feels untranquil. You’ll be leaving at one point, even though you’ve both enjoyed this temporary arrangement, that is a given and you both know that. Unless…

Miguel and you look away from each other as a similar thought crosses your minds, one that neither of you dare say out loud.

It’s crazy to think about a long-term possibility, right?

You sigh softly after several minutes of silence, thinking about something else to avoid other thoughts.

“You know, you asked me a lot of questions about college. I feel as though I don’t know the same about you. Yet.”

“Yet,” Miguel says with a small grin, his thoughts scattered. “What do you want to know?”

“Well…” you start with the first question and as always, Miguel listens intently. He answers your questions and satisfies your curiosity like you satisfied his the day before. Each time you ask something different - something he didn’t think about asking already - he returns the question, wanting to learn even more about you.

All the while, there’s a bright look on Miguel’s face as your conversation continues. His eyes light up as he hears your questions and genuine interest in his life before you ever crossed paths.

There’s a happiness in them, one that has grown over time with and because of you, replacing a sadness that had settled in those beautiful autumn eyes for so long.

At some point, without realizing it, Miguel stopped being el muchacho de los ojos tristes, the young man with sad eyes.

And at some point, you started to find safety in those maroon eyes - the same ones you gaze into while falling asleep on the living room floor, but before fully succumbing to your exhaustion, you offer something to Miguel. It’s what you’ve both wanted since you repeated “Always” to each other on your bedroom floor two nights ago. It’s what both your bodies longed for earlier today, before you went out for lunch with Harry.

A heartbeat later, your pinky finger is gently held by Miguel’s and just like that, his warmth, presence, and scent lull you to sleep while those warm eyes guard your sleep.

Translations: café de olla - coffee made in a pot pan dulce - Mexican bread polvorón - description provided in text; for my friend @faretheeoscar !! telenovela - Latin soap opera Mira - look agua de horchata - rice water agua de Jamaica - hibiscus water Uno nunca sabe - one never knows Ya - used in place of "ok" Tío - uncle ternura - endearment; fondness burritos de tinga - I feel like you know this by now. I had some Wednesday and they were bomb despite not being made by Miguel *sigh* Por favor no - please, no el muchacho de los ojos tristes - the young man with the sad eyes; brb gonna go cry from HQ's rooftop now that Miguel showed us the secret window

A/N: I'm gonna make this quick since at this point you've read like three or four chapters from an actual book! 🫣 Some of you may have seen a post I made last Sunday but just in case you haven't: I'm sorry for how long it took me to update. Last month was a bit off for me and I didn't feel like writing. It might sound silly but I feel like I get seasonal depression but for spring. 😂😭 I'm a fall and winter gal, so I always feel down around this time for some reason. I also had other life things going on, so I hardly got on here or other social media. Anyway, I'm better now :) I hope you guys enjoyed this update! Thank you for being so patient with me and for supporting this fic. I say it again and again, so much I probably sound like a broken record, but it truly means so much to me!! I hope you all have a wonderful weekend and please stay safe ❤️

-Alondra

taglist: (text block limit sucks) @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 @may4ri @t4naiis @f1-hoff @llumetrii

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara scenarios #spiderman 2099 #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel spiderman #across the spiderver fanfiction #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse #miguel spiderverse #nonviolent communication #soft!Miguel O'Hara

[intheholler]

what do you think of all of the people being scared of appalachia? i don't know if this is recent or not, but currently i've been seeing a ton of shit online like "never go to the appalachian mountains, it's so dangerous", and i just don't understand it. my family's lived in appalachia for forever, and none of us have experienced anything paranormal or endangering to us. you're one of my favorite blogs on here and i'd just like to hear your thoughts on it

first off, it means a lot that i'm one of your favorite blogs and im really happy i can contribute something to your experience here :') thanks so much for being here <333

but ok so.

my thoughts on it are many. it's been bothering me a long time and i've been meaning to get it off my chest. this will be long and probably ranty, so it won't hurt my feelings if anyone skims lol

lemme preface this little diatribe by saying the obvious: folklore is an integral part of any culture. the mythos of a place/people is tied directly to their histories and unique experiences and struggles and they are enriching. this is true of appalachia too.

oral folk traditions especially are incredibly historically appalachian.

i mentioned in a post i made yesterday about murder ballads, how the purpose of these was to warn kids away from doing dumb shit and getting lost in the hollers--falling down cliffs n mineshafts and shit at night. gettin got by wildlife.

it spooked us safe. they served a purpose, and once you got old enough to realize they're as real as the tooth fairy, they just become enjoyable and nostalgic. because they're you're culture.

probably every mountain kid has stories about haints n boogers that were told to them by their grandparents, and they grow up to tell them to their own kids, and so on. some of it stuck with me because i grew up with the folklore.

by that i mean, i'm a whole 31 year old woman and i still avoid looking out a dark window at night cause it gives me the shivers. i still get spooked when i hear a big cat yowling in the woods. but the difference is i know there's not really haints out there crying--it's just a product of my childhood. ghost stories are fun.

the problem comes in when someone outside the culture gets their hands on appalachian oral folk traditions. then, it becomes a familiar problem: outsiders cherry picking appalachia and harming us with the mess they make rifling through it all.

it's all about the surface level and the visuals. they all love a good aesthetic blog, run by some local from out west or some shit who's never stepped foot here.

but as soon as the spooky photo filters come off and the real life marginalized person is left standing there just out of frame, we go back to being disgusting examples of what not to be. decrepit churches n buildings are aesthetic and quirky until they stop being on a pinterest board, and then they just become damning images of an impoverished region who deserves to be laughed at.

now, not to holler 'splain you--this is more for anyone not from here who might read this: it's been a systemic issue for decades; there were literal government campaigns to demonize us to the rest of the nation so they could garner support to cut into our mountains and exploit our labor and resources.

well, they were fuckin successful, and we have been falsely made out to be this homogenous nightmare of a place--"welfare exploiting" maga country who deserves everything we get, and nothing we don't.

by going so far as to take appalachian folklore that we tell each other and picking out the "aesthetic" stuff--the haints and general paranormal--they are pruning what they like from our culture--the safe things, like ghost stories--for their own aesthetic use.

but not only that, they are using it to demonize us… yet again.

'appalachia is scary. it's full of things that will kill you. don't look out the window at night cause a booger will get you.' only they don't call them boogers cause they ain't even from here. ask them what a haint is and they'll ask if u mispelled 'haunt.'

it gets even worse when you consider that so much of it has roots in native american culture, and how that continues to be exploited and misrepresented.

i'm not even innocent of that. a while back i had to check myself because i made a comment on here about ~spooky appalachia~ ignorant to the fact that what i was commenting on was actually a deeply important cultural and spiritual element to local indigenous tribes. my comments were harmful by my failure to educate myself and know better, thereby saying things carelessly.

my point being--i'm from the area. i should have known better.

when outsiders start saying the kind of shit they say about what they think they hear in the woods without even knowing where such an idea comes from, they're disrespecting a displaced, abused and exploited people, harming real cultures just for clicks without even knowing. that's on top of the damage they're doing to greater appalachia.

it's fuckin gross.

i think my favorite one i ever seen was this middle aged white lady going through her pristine mcmansion somewhere in suburbia, pulling the million curtains and locking the million doors, going "nighttime routine in appalachia!! 🤪🤪"

i could be wrong about this particular person--i didn't check their other tiktoks because im sick of them accounts and tired of giving them the benefit of the doubt--but it immediately came off as a transplant because:

1) mcmansion, 2) i dont know nobody here that locks their shit down like that (not locking up could even be argued as a part of my local culture, a reflection of our deep sense of community and trust in our neighbors).

and then the comments was all like "i don't know how you guys live there" and it actually broke my heart and pissed me off because even if--especially if--you're one of us, why the fuck are you harming us for likes? why are you turning people against us in a brand new way?

and to the transplants that do this--why?

you're not even from here, you moved here to this place you hate and made it worse just so your front porch would have a nice view, and are now benefiting socially from perpetuating bullshit about us?

you buy up all the land, land we often had no choice but to sell in the first place to survive instead of passing it on to our families, land we originally took from the indigenous peoples your content comes from.

you overdevelop it and turn it unrecognizable to make it more like the comfortable cities you come from. you gut a mountain town of its local businesses and cultures, you price people out of their homes...

...and then once you settle in all cozy like, you go tell everyone else how scary it is? how you can't trust the hills? like it's a cool paranormal bravery badge to wear? fuck off entirely.

so idk, in short my personal thoughts are: i personally enjoy a little myth as a treat, because the folklore is a part of the gothic, a part of our culture and a part of my childhood. i don't (intentionally) wield it as a weapon or use it as a pedestal to get the weird brand of attention that people like them are after.

and those who do this can get got by them haints for all i care.

#asks #appalachian culture #spooky appalachia #appalachian folklore #appalachian myth #appalachia #appalachian #txt

[twst-drabbles]

Malleus 16

Summary: Class has ended and you’re ready to eat for lunch, but everyone has stopped at the door. Turns out Malleus was there, and he craves affection.

(Wanted to write about kisses. And then Malleus popped into my head. So here you go!)

“Um, hey, Prefect?” Oh, well would you look at that, it’s Deuce speaking up this time, “Can I… copy your notes again? Please?”

“Yeah, I really couldn’t pay attention,” Grim tapped his paws on your desk, like that’ll somehow endear you to him, “besides, the board is so far away.”

You and your group are two seats away from said board.

“Yeah, come on,” Ace laid an arm across the back of your seat, “do us a solid, yeah? You know you want to. Can’t resist the call of enlightening our tiny little brains.”

“What are you gonna give me?” You closed your notebook just so Ace and Deuce don’t have a chance to look at your notes. “I’ve been saving your asses for the past two weeks. You gotta give me something.”

“Hehe, that’s my minion! If you want a fast pass, you need to give us reparations in tuna!” He cheered, once more using ‘we’ as soon as he thinks he’s getting something.

“You have to pay too, Cat.”

There will be no ‘we’ this time.

“What?! Why?!”

You tried tutoring them in the past but having Ace, Deuce and Grim all in the same room for more than ten minutes always leads to either an argument breaking out, a bunch of whining, or just general chaos because one or more people tried to slip out of trouble.

Yeah, yeah it’s partially your fault for losing patience and just giving up on them, but you’d think they’d at least pay attention long enough to take notes.

They’re right there! On the board!

They have no excuse and they have to at least pay you back for this emotional trouble.

Was this petty? Yes, very. You don’t care right now. You want a treat. Or money. Or both!

“Huh, ah, well,” Deuce got sheepish and reached into his pockets, “I have gum.”

“No.” He has disappointed you. An unworthy treat for your notes.

“How about I only eat three-fourths of your food this time?” Suggested Grim.

“My treat is me giving you more of my food?” And you don’t even give it, he just steals it!

Grim hissed. He was probably hoping you didn’t know fractions. But, good on him for finally learning. Shame his first thought was to try and trick you with it.

“Okay guys, you all know that’s not what the Prefect really wants,” Ace leans in, acting chummy, “how about this?”

You were given one thaumark.

“…”

“Alright listen, I need the rest to buy other things, okay?”

You got up after calmly putting your notes away. “I’m going to get lunch.”

“No wait come back!”

But, as much as you wanted to walk out and sit at the regular table while your friends slowly fill in the seats, the exit to the classroom was blocked by a cluster of murmuring and rather nervous students.

“What’s he doing here?” You heard one whisper.

“Uh, did we do something? Were we too loud?”

“I’m really hungry but…”

You are not in the mood. You tried to excuse yourself as you bumped into shoulders but you had to settle for grumbled apologies instead as you shoved yourself through.

Finally, you popped out of the other side, a little more heated and more irritable.

“There you are, Child of Man,” so goes the voice of Malleus, who stood to the side of the door, waiting. The cause of this blockage, students frozen with only his green-eyed stare. “I was kept waiting quite a while. How bold of you to do this, after the slight you made this morning.”

What?

“Wha?” Your annoyance was momentarily replaced by bafflement, but that quickly went away when your brain caught up to his words. You grumbled, “Oh, come on…”

Yeah, you’re probably not even gonna eat at the cafeteria. You’re just gonna get your food and go hide away somewhere until you cooled down.

Malleus walked forward, the surge of students all taking a collective step back as though his very air could potentially kill them.

“Well? Don’t you remember?” He crossed his arms and you were ready for that high-brow glare that comes with all people of royalty, but instead, you found an exaggerated and childish pout. “You forgot to give me my morning greeting. I felt off the entire morning, unable to focus, because I didn’t have the memory of you kissing my brow fresh in my mind.”

A hush fell over the classroom.

And then a, “Huh?!” shot out of Ace’s mouth.

You snorted, then gave out a hearty chuckle. Once you calmed down, you waved Malleus over.

“Alright, alright, get over here. Let me correct that.”

A laugh rumbled low in his throat as he tilted his head into your hand. Playfully, you lightly pinched his ear, just because his pointy ears always caught your attention. He twitched, breath hitching just the slightest bit, and you couldn’t resist the urge anymore and kissed above his brow.

Malleus’s lashes fluttered open and the sigh that escaped him reminded you of a pure-hearted maiden with a fast-beating heart. And yet, there’s nothing delicate about the way he stood. If anything, the affection flowing through him made his pride more apparent. He practically glowed with that royal grace he was taught to have.

You couldn’t help yourself. You gave him an extra kiss on the corner of his lips. Malleus nearly hissed in a breath as he clamped his hand over your own, his body leaning in closer towards yours, as though he wanted to meld with you.

But, with a chuckle, you pulled away and he had no choice but to let go. Malleus was back to pouting, though this time, cheeks flushed and hair slightly messier than usual. The air around you was slightly charged with wayward magic, causing the hair on your body to stand on end. And his eyes…

Well, whoops.

“Good morning. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Better get out of here before Malleus jumps you right in this hallway.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #twst-drabbles exclusive #drabble #diasomnia #malleus #malleus draconia #reader insert

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

ELINOR SOS

I am the student anon from a while ago who was concerned because my prof made an oblique comment about "knowing when people use AI on their assignments"

I often collaborate with a friend in the course on homework assignments (something that is encouraged so long as you name your collaborators when you turn in) and i found out recently that she DOES use chatgpt sometimes. we'll each work on papers separately and then compare ideas and make edits if either of us included something the other missed. i never copy her words but i'll incorporate her ideas if i feel they're useful.

this brings me to 3 questions:

1) does the prof know she uses AI, and does the prof by extension believe that i do, since i name her as a collaborator?

2) is there a way for me to kindly tell my friend i think this is ludicrous behavior and cut it the fuck out

3) is there a way for me to distance myself from my friend in the eyes of the prof without seeming like a total snitch or hardass or what have you

thanks in advance !!!!!!

prev anon:: I MISSPELLED YOUR NAME I AM SORRY elanor elanor elanor so sorry

LMAO you're fine, no worries!

Hmm, okay, so some of this is outside my wheelhouse as a lecturer the other side of the world - this is not to say I'm not going to share my opinions regardless, but just a reminder that I am not, for example, an authority on taking friends to task for using ChatGPT

Anyway the easiest (and most advisable) answer to all of this is to stop collaborating. Up until this point, you're fine, because you simply didn't know - if you get accused of anything you have plausible deniability, because you literally didn't know. It's worth pointing out, though, that you would probably already have been given a formal warning or taken to an academic misconduct board by now if you were suspected on past work - at least, that would be the case over here. We don't hang about if we have suspicions.

Whereas, from this point onwards, if you turn in a collaborated piece and she then gets accused of plagiarism, you are now in a position of having willingly collaborated with a known plagiarist, which opens you up to questions like "So you knew there was a chance that her inputs could have been Chat-generated and you used them in your own work anyway?" and that's a lot harder to defend against.

As to the rest of it, though:

No, probably not. She'd likely have been called on it by now, as would you.

Hmm. I think I personally would approach this with "I'm so sorry, my anxiety is through the roof and I just don't feel comfortable collaborating with you because you use ChatGPT. My brain is now irrationally terrified that it's somehow obvious to the professor and imploding from the pressure." And then if she wants to get into it further, you can discuss the issues with it. HOWEVER mileage can and will vary on that strategy - that's how I would phrase it to avoid her feeling judged, see, but depending on how good a friend she is and a whole bunch of other factors, you might prefer to go BITCH WHY DON'T YOU JUST MARRY THE FUCKING ROBOT IF YOU LOVE IT SO MUCH and block her number. Or, you know. Something along the scale.

Just stop collaborating. Nothing more needed.

The other thing I will say is that I think you're probably assuming more surveillance and oversight from your professor than actually exists. It IS obvious when you find a Chat-generated section, but I can't help but wonder if telling a class "We know that some of you are using it, btw. We won't say who but we can tell. So stop doing that." is actually a lie designed to scare compliance before it becomes a problem. Like. That feels like a lie to me. That feels like "Say it now and then they won't try it." Because if they actually knew, there would be formal proceedings, not oblique little warnings.

Anyway! I hope this is useful.

#asks #chatgpt #the professional world of careers and tasks

[delqcate]

hi angel!!! im aware of how super busy you are rn, but I can't get like frenemies scott barringer and reader out of my head, imagine it, like he's so annoyed by everything she does, she's the total opposite of him, sweet and kind, but also the sarcastic angry feminist, and he's the self-righteous football captain arsehole.

But no matter what he does, she's constantly stuck in his head, and it's kinda like the song "you look so pretty, pretty like the sun, i could watch forever while you shine on everyone" and he's so in love and a little insecure, which he covers up with this pompous arrogant fboy persona

anyways, you're writing gives me life more than anything! when i first discovered your flannel shirt fic on scott, i became obsessed and stalked your profile and obsessively read through all your fanfics, hayden characters or not, I read them all, and im head over heels in love w u :) you genuinely write the best fluff ever, like your my favourite blog for fluff, like don't get me wrong smut is cute and that, but god i would kill for some forehead kisses and hayden fluff

because i love you.

scott barringer x reader

anon you own my whole heart ilysm!!! you're soso incredibly sweet and being your favorite fluff writer??? such an incredible honor 🥹 i'm sorry it took me a while to get to writing this and i feel so bad cause i feel like i just didn't have enough inspiration for this so it's all messy but I hope it's still good. scott and shelby don't get together here but they're still good friends

summary: you and scott don't necessarily hate each other, but you can't tolerate both that much either. after a plan gone wrong, turns out there's a reason why.

warnings/cw: swearing, kissing (i don't know if that's warnings but yeah), fluff fluff fluff

word count: 1.9k

Where does Scott even begin with you? The Cliffhanger's sweetheart, the epitome of the sun in this hell hole, is his friend. Well, sort of.

Because every time he was near you, it felt like he was constantly basking in the sun, yet at the same time, he was warmed up by everything you did, from your smile to your voice. It was almost like he was constantly taunted.

He couldn't get enough of you, though. You were everything he's ever wanted—the warmth and love of another—and yet he still seems to be pushing you away.

But then that all changes when a little surprise is left on one of the class boards one morning when Scott and the other Cliffhangers are called to meet up with Peter and Sophie.

Scott walks into the classroom, wearing a sweater he just threw on due to the cold, and looks at the board in confusion. "Morp? Wh-what's a morp?" His brow was furrowed, and he frankly didn't care too much about decoding it until Auggie followed from behind him. "Oh, cool, a prom?"

Scott looks at Auggie, realizing everyone else is inside already. His eyes land on you, and he suddenly can't focus on anything but you. Everyone was taking a seat, and it took him a moment to realize you sat with him until a hand waved at his face.

"Scott, y'there?" Your voice rings out, and he looks at you, his face brooding as always. "Why? What's up?" He clears his throat and focuses his gaze on you. Despite hating you, he seems to be interested in what you have to say. Probably just sucking it up so it would be over.

You look at him, and suddenly you find yourself drawn to his eyes. Do they seem more blue than usual lately, or have they always been this way? But you don't have time to ponder about that because now it’s his turn to snap you out of your thoughts.

"Hey, are you there?" He gives you a small smirk, and you playfully roll your eyes. “Yeah, sorry,” you say, clearing your throat and resting your head on your palm. “Sophie and Peter paired us for morp planning.”

His eyes widen slightly, but he immediately covers them up with his emotionless stare again. “Why us? ," he asks, sounding annoyed. “Dunno,” you reply. “Probably ‘to build a stronger relationship between us’,” you say, playfully mocking what Peter constantly tells everyone whenever there’s a team activity.

He let out a soft scoff but couldn't help but let a smirk form on his lips. He was starting to let his guard down, something he rarely does around people; besides Shelby, she relates to him more than anyone. "Yeah, all that bullshit."

You nod and chuckle, watching as he bounces his leg, a habit you share with him. "All we have to do is plan the music, so it shouldn't be too bad. They're letting us use Peter's office and a couple more gadgets, I think." You shrug, but all you could think of was Scott.

Spending time alone with him in a room for days on end sounded both eventful and terrifying. But at least it was him instead of anyone else; at least you could get some peace and quiet for once.

————————————————————————

It had been days since you and Scott were assigned to make the playlist, and despite the bickering and constant grogginess you two would feel the next day, it was bearable. It caused something in Scott to brew—something he thought he could keep in, but it was just waiting to burst.

Scott dragged Shelby away to a corner in the common room—not the best place to have a private conversation, but it'll do.

"Let me guess," Shelby starts, her gaze landing on Ophelia talking to Peter and back at Scott. "You need advice to ask her out?" Scott scrunches up his face, annoyed but thinking about it. "Well, yeah," he says after a moment.

She chuckles and looks over at you again, trying to think of anything. "Morp's tomorrow, Scott. How are you sure Auggie or someone else asked her out?" Scott suddenly seemed upset at the thought, however. "You think Auggie has more of a chance than me?" His angry question was a little too loud, loud enough to catch your attention, at least.

Shelby quickly looks away and narrows her eyes at Scott, slapping his arm playfully. "Will you keep it down, you idiot?" He whines and leans against the wall, crossing his arms and staring at you from afar. "How am I ever going to ask her out? I'm just the cocky football star, a pompous asshole fuckboy. Every bad thing you could think of."

She sighs and moves closer, taking his hand and watching his expression before continuing, "Sure, you can be a complete asshole." He scoffs and looks at the floor. "Great way to start that off," he muttered. She rolls her eyes and continues with, "But all that matters is what they think of you. You wanna go all out and be stupid with your promposal? Go ahead. I'll be there every stupid step in the way."

He moves his gaze on her and mutters, "Stop calling me stupid. But, thanks."

————————————————————————

The plan was perfect. You and Shelby would be hanging out together, saying some good stuff about Scott, and Scott would play football with Auggie. Auggie would throw the ball at you, and he would save you. He would tie that to some smooth way to ask you out, but he would worry about that later. What was the worst that could happen?

Scott watches nervously as Shelby and you sit at the bleachers, taking a deep breath as Shelby discreetly nods and Scott starts to play. Your gaze moves to Scott, and a small smile grows on your face. Seeing Scott play football was cute to you. Despite being an ex-football captain, he still never lost his love for the sport, and you admire him for that.

Shelby notices your stare and chuckles, looking at Scott and back at you. "You eyeing Scott?" Your cheeks heat up and your eyes land on her, shaking your head as your face gets all flushed up. "No- well yeah, but not in that way! He's my friend; I just want to watch him."

Your gaze moves back to the two boys playing, and you swear you saw Scott wink at you, but maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you; he probably got something in his eye.

But you didn't even have time to think because the football started flying towards you, and Scott's amazing plan came crashing down as soon as the ball hit him right in the face.

"Scott!" You yell out and rush down to him with Shelby. He lets out a loud groan and covers his face. He's never felt so much pain and embarrassment before. "Auggie, fuck!" He groans out. "I didn't mean to, I- I'm sorry!" Auggie frowns and looks at the two, watching as you take Scott into your arms and prop your leg up for him to rest on.

"Shit- Scott, move your hand." You frown and try to move his hand, watching as a crowd of people form, someone rushing to grab Peter. Scott whines and shakes his head, saying something about how it really hurt, but it's muffled from his hands.

"C'mon, please? I swear the pain will be gone soon; I need to see how bad it is." You were trying to stay calm for the both of you, and after a moment, he moves his hands away to reveal a bleeding nose and some tears.

You wince and help him stand up. With the help of Shelby and Auggie, you guys safely bring him to the girls rooms and onto your bed, hurrying off to the bathroom while the two find something that could help Scott besides a wet rag.

You return to him on the bed and move his hand away. A small hiss escapes you, and you start to clean him up. The silence was killing you after a while, so you mumbled out, "That was stupid, y'know?"

He looks at you with an annoyed expression and scoffs, trying not to move too much as you clean his nose and check if it is broken. "Well, I'm sorry for saving your life," he says sarcastically, clearly upset that you didn't appreciate him saving you. Maybe his plan was just stupid.

"I mean, I appreciate it, but look at you now." You frown and place the rag on your side table, grabbing some tissues to clean the spot better. "Why'd you do it? Ruin your oh-so-perfect face for me?" He smirks and looks at you. "You like my face, huh?" You roll your eyes, and he lets out a small laugh as you punch his arm.

"Sorry, I couldn't help it." He lets his laughter die down and listens to the two of you breathing. It calmed him down to hear your breath, especially because he definitely needed to calm down. He took a deep breath and calmly let out, "Because I love you."

You stop your arm and move your gaze from his nose to his gaze, which was locked onto yours. You couldn't tell if it was because he was frozen in embarrassment or because he wanted to show you he really meant it; either way, it left you shocked.

How does he like you? He's made it very clear that he has some hatred towards you , so it didn't make sense. "But the way you act around me—" he quickly interrupted you. "It's because I'm insecure." He sighs and looks down at his hands, feeling the embarrassment creep up on him.

"You're just so- so gorgeous. You make everyone smile and laugh; it's like the goddamn sun. You shine so bright, and I can't help but feel this jealousy towards you because everyone gets to experience all of that." Although he didn't outright say it, it was clear to you that he was jealous, and it was incredibly adorable.

You let out a soft laugh, and at first he thought you were laughing at him, but a small smile formed on his lips when he realized you were laughing with him. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I feel like I shine brighter when I'm with you. You make me sparkle, I guess."

He chuckles and moves a little closer, sensing the change in tension, and he was sure you did too because you moved closer. "Sparkle, huh? What are you, a vampire?" He smirks and wraps his arm around you, making you roll your eyes and cup his cheek. "Just shut up and kiss me."

"Yes, ma'am." He smirks wider and kisses you gently, immediately crash-landing into heaven as soon as he feels your lips. They were soft and felt heavenly, just like he imagined. The kiss grew deeper but didn't last too long as someone threw a box of bandages at them.

Scott pulls away in annoyance but quickly gets flustered as soon as he sees Shelby and Auggie; he completely forgets they were coming back. "Congratulations, lovebirds!" Shelby smirks and moves her gaze between Scott and you. "But do us all a favor and get a room, will you?"

You let out a small chuckle and quickly helped Scott clean up, hearing the pair's footsteps as they headed outside. Despite both of you being complete opposites, Something told you it would all work out in the long run.

taglist: none!

#★ — ﹙daydreaming . . . 📜﹚ #dividers from cafekitsune #scott barringer #scott barringer fluff #scott barringer x reader #scott barringer imagine #hayden christensen #hayden christensen fluff #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen imagine

[moonlit-positivity]

Self Care Cheat Sheet

Low effort self care options:

Comfort item

Blankets

Stim toys/accessories

Drinking water/juice

Turning on a light

Using decorations around the house, decorative lights

Candles, incense, lotions

Music

White noise

Deodorant/baby powder/sink wash- ups

Resting

Naps

Pets

Finding compassion for yourself through this moment, even if it's admitting self care isn't an option you can expend right now. That's fine too.

Venting to someone or out loud to a pet, allow your anger & emotions to exist

Calling in from work

Taking a break

Snacks

Video games

Low effort hobby

Making your space accessible for low effort things ie self care bag filled with stim toys, books, activities, etc

Low effort usually includes things readily available, accessible, doesn't take too much effort to do. Consider the ways to make your space low effort & what types of activities you could enjoy when the spoons are low

Medium effort self care options:

Podcast

Watching a movie or comfort show

Reading a book

Art projects, vent art, mood boards, aesthetics, express yourself creatively

Crossword puzzles, sudoku, etc

Organizing, making lists, etc

Meal prep, planning, etc

Microwave foods

Calling a friend

Coloring or journaling

Venting

Half assing hygiene, food, basic necessities

Make your bed up, or throw the comforter over it at least

Sit up or get out of bed to stretch, walk to a different room if you can manage

Take something to the trash can

Move a few things around the house while you're up, put something away properly (don't gotta do the whole thing. Just move some clothes to a pile or something, medium effort here)

Thinking about what you'd like to do next, think about any diy projects or art projects you'd like to do, think about doing something. Don't gotta do it, just think about it.

Soap up a rag & wash ur pitts & bits

Opening a window, step outside to check mail, etc

Medium effort usually involves a little bit of brain power, concentration, and offers more of a distraction while still being low maintenance enough to be doable with a small amount of spoons.

Consider ways you can make your space more accessible for medium effort self care to consolidate the effort.

High effort self care options:

Showering

Hygiene

Clean cat box/pet hygiene

Full meal prep

Walking, exercise

Communicating a need with someone

Considering your emotional, physical, and mental health needs

Writing someone an angry letter (they say ur not supposed to send it but I mean you do you boo 😭)

Asking for help or assistance

Chores

Laundry

Housework

Paying bills

Walking pets

Groceries

Physical activities

Learn something new

Pick up a new hobby, high effort hobbies

Learn something new & beneficial to your health & recovery, put effort towards recovery

Spending time with a friend or someone trusted

High effort self care involves being active and doing things that will make your life easier

These tend to be stressful, so please consider ways to streamline the process

Consider how many spoons you have for that day and ways you can divide tasks accordingly

Try not to push to hard. Remember that half ass is still an ass and it's good enough.

Hope this helps ❤️‍🩹🌸🧸

#recovery #ptsd #trauma #mental health #boundaries #healing #healing thoughts #self care #self soothing #self love #self advocacy #self help #abuse recovery

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Bells and Whistles (John Price x Captain!Reader)

Summary: This was far from what you imagined your first date with John would be.

AN: This is part of the "Star-crossed in the Crosshairs" universe, but you don't have to read that fanfic first. You can enjoy this as a standalone!

Thank you and special shout-out to @feedthemadness_sweetie on AO3 for commenting on near EVERY chapter of that series and motivating me to do some actually short slices of life for this series.

Bit of context: Reader is a Captain, they and John trained together before John was MIA for three years (and didn't contact them for the rest of the decade when he did get rescued). Reader has finally decided to give him a chance now that he's atoning for his mistake, and they're falling back in love.

"Star-crossed in the Crosshairs" Chapter 1 // Masterlist // AO3 Version

-----------------------------------------

“I’m sorry, but I fucking hate this.”

“Oh thank God, me too.”

So above your level was this restaurant that you’d been sent derisive looks when you’d requested to be seated near the fish tank wall. That wall turned out to be the highlight of this place. The menu? Incomprehensible, both in the style of writing and the combinations of flavours. The napkins? Folded into a shape you couldn’t have created outside of a dream. The chandeliers? More expensive than your flat, casting a thousand rainbows to be fragmented further by the glass displays dotted around this restaurant. Your outfit felt cheap, even though you’d technically splashed out on your first actual date with John. Speaking of, John was wearing a pressed suit with a bow tie you could tell he’d tied himself.

“Can we go please?” You asked quietly. John nodded and immediately signalled to the waiter. You’d barely had an entrée and a glass of wine so the bill didn’t take too long to arrive. Ripples of dull aqua wobbled over your hand, the bulb in the fish tank offering you no reassurance. An angelfish glided past your head whilst John slipped his card into the leather tab, and you pulled on your denim jacket, the one the egregious maître d’ had stared at for the longest second in your life.

A chill caught you off guard as you stepped outside. Glass shook in the door’s frame as John let it swing shut, catching up to you in two long strides.

“Sorry, love,” He said, his voice steel, but you could feel the dejection.

“It’s ok,” You took his hand and used it as an anchor to pull yourself closer to him and slow the return to his car right down. Again, you were really glad to be leaving that place behind, behind with the conversation that was mainly catching up on the last few years and awkward silences.

Thankfully, John reduced his speed and his hand pulsed twice around yours, “I just wanted you to have a good time.”

“We’ve changed a lot, but I still don’t need all the bells and whistles.”

“You deserve the bells and whistles.”

“True, but not that many bells and whistles.”

True enough, on the glum walk through streets you hadn’t really paid attention to on the journey up, you eyed up a pub across the road that screamed “local legend”. When you pointed it out to John, he noted the giant bell hanging over the doorway in lieu of a hanging board. It took two minutes to get you both situated with your drinks and a laminated dogeared menu attached to a clipboard with all the classics in Georgia font. Much more your style.

“You’re not going to believe this,” John said, crinkles by his eyes clueing you in on a jest.

“What?” You followed where he’d indicated, sipping through your straw until you choked on it. A karaoke machine dazzled in the corner by a square of parquet flooring, acting as a flat stage.

“I’m not drunk enough to get up there,” You indicated to your J20 (orange and passion-fruit - classic), “And I’m not drinking anymore. You?”

He shook his head, “Young man’s game.”

“John. You just turned forty.” Your pause and emphasis were there to say “shut up, you’re hardly about to cash in your pension”.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Well, if we’re taking stock, I’ve got the knees of a grandfather in my ‘old age’.”

“Yeah, ‘cus you keep jumping off second-storey buildings and taking sledgehammers to them.”

A second elapsed then you and John both turned into piglets, snorting at his jab whilst your food arrived with a carousel of condiments. You grabbed the sauce bottle, shaking it to test if there was enough, whilst John shook a packet of salt to douse his chips in. 

Neither of you bothered with the paper napkins in your laps, protecting your debonair wear. The food was good enough that you didn’t have to talk through it, except to pretend to complain when John took a pickle poking out from your burger and you stole the extra crispy bit of batter from his cod. Worth it though, every time, to see that fake frustration fade into that dumb fucking smile that made him look like a cartoon and endeared you more and more. All that work put into atoning for you and forgiving him was made worth it.

#captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price x you #john price #captain john price #cod fanfic #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #my writing #series #r: gn