#this won’t be an overnight change

[goldkirk]

god how much more of my life am i just missing memories of. When is this gonna STOP. I’m so tired of this

#am i going to have to keep doing this for years #is my life just always going to be Swiss cheese memory and variable functioning and variable working memory #and sometimes you can remember and sometimes you can’t even when you could remember yesterday and you wrote a note about it #etc etc #i don’t understand why my memory is so fucked up #and please don’t go it’s the trauma I know it’s the trauma but i still don’t understand #it’s just gotten WORSE over the past several years I made all these good changes I’ve gotten healthier I broke the cycle in my family #when do I get to have a working brain? when I can I trust that tomorrow when I wake up I’ll have skills i previously learned and they won’t #vanish overnight to show up again ten months later like they never left? #when am i going to stop remembering the same thing twenty times but never remembering I remembered it until i see a post or a note that i di #I’m just tired of this #I’m tired #i don’t see anyone else having memory issues like this and i don’t understand what I’m doing wrong #shh katie

[majoringinsarcasm]

Fat people will literally post gym videos hyping themselves and saying “this is a good body this is my body and it’s good” and there are hateful ass motherfuckers tripping over each other to say FAT ISNT FIT YOURE NOT FIT IF YOURE FAT DONT CALL YOURSELF FIT

I don’t know how to convey that working out is hard. Working out when you’re fat OR when you have no significant body strength regardless of size is very hard. It’s hard MENTALLY to keep up a routine when all you hear about fat people is that they shouldn’t exist at all. They will literally show their fitness BEGINNING and say things to keep them motivated or inspire others and. Rancid. Awful. Annoying ass losers in the comments. Fat people don’t owe you a fucking thing but when you are HATEFUL AND NITPICKING THEIR POSITIVE MANTRAS OR WORDS IN THEIR FUCKING WORKOUT POSTS I want to. Crush you. With hammers.

Like congratulations if you’ve never been taught to hate your body all the time INCLUDING when you’re doing all the things people tell you. Hateful. It’s nothing but hate or just to feel better that “you’re not fat like them” literally. Wishing you no gas money and spoiled food in your fridge. Fuck off.

#instagram comments #I finally left one for the first time bc I got so mad #a fat person hyping themselves up in their workout video #is not them being delusional #they are literally making strides to be fit and that won’t drastically change their weight overnight #I’m gonna rip your throat out with my teeth WHY ARE YOU HERE IF YOU TO ENCOURAGE #I THOUGHT YOU WANTED ALL US FAT BITCHES TO GET LESS UGLY HUH WHY ARE YOU BEING A FUCKING BITCH #yall I swear

[austerulous-a]

After much debate, I’ve decided to move Annie to my multimuse! You’ll find her at @accendible​​​ Hope to see you. ♡

#i’d love to keep my existing threads and plan on answering the asks in my inbox #so if you’d like to continue writing please follow me there #this blog will remain as an archive #and in case i end up changing my mind and moving annie back out on her own abshd #i’m so indecisive rip :’) #i’ll reblog this a few times to get the word out #i know the attack on titan universe is grim #but it’s worth noting my other characters also come with content warnings #so blacklist tags and do what you need to keep your dash comfy #i won’t be around much today as i’m catching up with a friend this afternoon #then hosting a board game night #but my mother-in-law is taking the kids overnight tomorrow #so i’ll be catching up with dms and hopefully getting some writing done #smooches you all ♡ #✧ ooc: puffin speaks — ❛ awk hiya love ❜

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main AU 3

Masterpost

So this one is a bit longer, but that's because part of it is the same phone conversation from the other side.

~~~~~

“Road trip!” Dick calls out. All of the- siblings(?)-younger people start to scramble before Bruce calls out for them to stop.

“This is going to be a 12 hour drive one-way, which means we won't be back until dinner tomorrow at the earliest. Not all of you can go.” This causes a lot of frowns and Danny holds in a chuckle. They start arguing over why they should be able to go and Bruce pinches his nose, right between his eyes as they shout at him.

“First and Foremost, I do believe that Masters Duke, Damian, and Stephanie have school tomorrow.” Alfred inserts. Everyone quiets to listen to him, Danny notes. Everyone else they’ll talk over, he must be important, be extra nice to him.

The three must sigh and sit back down at the table. 

“Cass, if you wouldn’t mind staying to keep them out of trouble overnight. I’m sure Alfred will see them out to school.”

Cass shrugs, then signs at Dick who responds “Of course!” Danny hadn’t realized that she was speaking sign language this whole time.

Bruce then turns to face Dick and Tim. “You have absolutely no way to keep us from coming.” Dick sing-songs.

“You both have work tomorrow.”

“Actually, Dick and I called out ten minutes ago, family emergency.” Tim shrugs. “We won’t be in for a few days unless things change.”

“Alright, go grab your things.” They both whoop and you can just tell they were both about to start running when they catch eyes with Alfred and just start walking really fast. “Pack light, and grab some changes of clothes for Jason!”

Before they can leave a phone starts ringing. They all look around before all eyes settle back on Danny. He feels around his pockets for where the phone is, before pulling it out and seeing his own number on the caller ID.

“Oh, it’s me!” Danny hurries to pick up as he hears someone mutter “Why didn’t we think of that?” from the table. Dick and Tim are almost immediately right next to him as he mumble out a hello.

“Um, hello, Jason?”

“Yeah, this is Jason. You with my family?” His heart thumps when he hears his own voice coming out the other side of the phone. It somehow makes the whole situation seem a bit more real then it did before.

“If the people that were in the room with you before are your family. I really only have confirmation that one of them is your dad.”

“Hey, we’re his family”

“We’re all his brothers and Cass is his sister.”

“Have those motherfuckers not even introduced themselves?” 

So much talking at once, Danny tries to focus on his own voice coming through the phone. It’s a little deeper than it usually is, gruffer and lilted like it’s trying to talk in an accent the mouth isn’t familiar with shaping. Danny supposes the voice he’s speaking with now must be doing the same.

“Sort of. Eventually.” Jason sighs loud enough to hear over the phone and Danny chuckles at the response. 

“Right, well your name is Danny right?”

“Yeah! Have you talked to my family yet?” They were all home the last he checked, and Jazz usually tells him before she heads out. 

“No, haven’t left your room. Your name was on your homework though.”

“Oh, please do not judge the homework.” Danny rubs a hand down his face just thinking of that - his homework- being his soulmate's first real impression of him. 

“Didn’t even look at that part. So, I’m assuming that you guys are coming to me?”

Danny shakes off the embarrassment “I think so?” 

“Of course we are!”,  “Was he not paying any attention as we decided who should go?”, “We were just planning.” There are so many people talking at once again.

 Danny pulls his face away from the phone and turns to the room at large “Stop it, buzz off!”. He turns to face a wall and takes a few steps away.  “They said yes.”

“Please tell me they’re not all planning on coming.”

Danny hums, focused on something else. “Look, I do need to warn you…” what if he goes ghost, can he go ghost with Jason in his body? What are his parents working on today? “ about a few things actually. Jazz, my sister, her room is across the hall and she’ll be able to help you if you. I sort of have… like a medical condition. I would rather explain that to you in person, but she’ll watch out for you if you go meet her.”

“I can do that. Anything I should look out for?” Weird ice mist coming out of your mouth would be pretty unexplainable at the moment, but random things shooting at him can be avoided!

“My parents leave all kinds of weapons around the house, and sometimes they’ll target me-you- at random, so try not to touch anything, and either stay upstairs or have my sister take you somewhere in town. Whatever you do, don’t go in the basement, the lab is down there.” Almost everything in that lab is to be avoided, although since he is already in Danny’s body he shouldn’t be bothered by the potential radiation.

“Kid, what?” 

“This is really an in-person talk.”

Danny does not know how he would explain this over the phone, with a room of eavesdroppers behind him. Although they’ve become respectfully quiet, more whispers than anything now. 

“Sure, okay. Find Jazz, preferably leave the house.”

“Yep!” That would be best, Jazz will definitely help him. “Is there anything I should know?”

“Shit, if I had time I would give you a warning about everyone in my family individually, but for now… I don’t know if this will translate over…” It will, but there’s really no way to explain that. “I have… I guess it’s sort of a health condition as well. My family knows what triggers it, and they should be on their best behavior right now anyways, but if you wouldn’t mind putting someone on the phone I can threaten them properly.”

Danny laughs and puts the phone on speaker before calling out to the room, “You’re on speaker!” so everyone in the room knows as well as Jason. 

“I swear to god if any of you scare him, hurt him, or anything I’m going to kill you. I know everything you love and if you don’t act normal, just know, it will be destroyed.”

“Yeah, yeah. Jay, this is your soulmate!” Dick has bounded back over to Danny, right up in the personal space. 

“Also, most of us love you so that threat doesn’t work as well as you think it does.” Steph yells from the table, where she continued eating at some point.

“Bitch, I died once, I’ll do it again. Don’t test me on this right now.”

Danny starts laughing so hard he doesn’t register everyone else in the room having frozen at the outburst.

“Oh, wow, same.” Danny gets out once he can breathe again.

The room is staring at him again, but they seem to do that a lot.

“You must be Jazz.” They hear coming through the phone. “I’m Jason.”

“Jazz!” Danny calls out. 

“Danny would like to talk to you.” There’s a small shuffle. 

“Danny?”

“Hey, Jazz! So, apparently I’m the younger, so today’s the day. I’m with his family right now.”

“You have a plan? Are you coming home?”

“Yeah, just. Would you mind keeping an eye on Jason until I get there? It’s going to be a long drive so could you make sure nothing shoots him and that he gets edible food?”

“I’ll take him to Nasty for dinner, don’t worry.” Danny sighs in relief, he knew Jazz would help, but he did not need his soulmate food fighting with dinner.

“Sounds good, he’s in my body so he shouldn’t really be poisoned but Mom and Dad still can’t really cook. Speaking of which! He is in my body so if anything happens with the, um, medical condition, help him through that as well.”

“Of course, Danny.”

“Thanks Jazz! We were just deciding who was coming along, but apparently, it's about a 12-hour drive? So, you guys won’t see us until tomorrow.”  There’s a lot unspoken in this conversation, but Danny knows she’ll do her best. “Try not to interrogate him, and no psychoanalyzing!”

#dcxdp #dpxdc #batman #danny phantom #crossover #soulmate au #jason todd #red hood #dead on main #batfamily

[cairoswrld]

yap session except i’m passionate and i want you to live your dream life bc i can’t promise you a second chance at this life thing!! mwah

how many times are you going to consume loa content, get yourself excited all to procrastinate, deny yourself your desires, place everything else on a pedestal and waste another year wishing things were different?

no your dreams aren’t "too much", "too ambitious" "to unrealistic" when they are people that blow up and their whole lives change, people become overnight billionaires, globally recognised artists, randomly recruited models. – half of the people you sit there and admire, started with a desire or a hope just like you. the difference between you and them, is that they surrendered to that hope, to things working out for them.

"idk how i’m going to get there but i will" and they do. - no circumstance is to big because there are people all around you to prove otherwise. no circumstance is to big and you know that because you sit there reading about others getting their desires, wishing that it were you.

where is thinking about things not working out going to get you? is it fun to think that things won’t work out? who cares if it didn’t in the past, are we in the past ? keep the past where it is, bc the only thing that keeps you reliving your past is you thinking about it. notice how you suffer more in your head than irl? dead the old story. does it contribute to your happiness? abundance? dreams? no? then it’s not your business.

there’s so much information out there on the law, it is a promise to you that you are guaranteed what you want, all you have to is THINK in your favour.

in a world where the sky turns yellow, government officials confirm extraterrestrial life on earth, a whole bunch of individuals are said to be billionaires, people are becoming millionaires solely off their social media accounts, so much - you’re telling me you can’t get your sp? you can’t join that group of billionaires? you can’t manifest your desired appearance? there are aliens on earth and you’re telling me you can’t manifest your desired appearance? 😭

honestly the same way you can ignore the good things in your life, now do the same with your current 3D circumstances. it’s not your business.

and then decide today, what you want and decide that it’s yours, will be yours whatever. - time isn’t even real.

and then you live your life, and if you get a thought against your desire, cool it has nothing to do with you. you see negative circumstances pop up? great circumstances change all the time what does it matter to you? feeling anxious or doubtful? that’s fine bc as long as you can remind yourself it’s yours, go lay down and self soothe. - what you think a feeling that will fade away eventually is going to stop you from getting your desire? crazy.

the law of assumption is a pinky promise to you that all you have to do to achieve a life you love to live, is think and assume and expect everything in your favour. that’s it. and stay there. know it’s your. - what’s the harm in thinking otherwise? exactly.

@cairoswrld - anyways i need to make my blog look more pretty, the venusian in me is unsatisfied 🙁

#cairoswrld #loa #loablog #loassblog #law of assumption #manifestation #loassumption #manifesting #law of assuming

[helluvapoison]

How do you think Adam x reader x Lute(poly) work work out? Because I don’t think Adam would mind having a poly relationship if it’s with Lute because they trust each other, but I wonder how it would even go down to begin with

Adam x Reader x Lute

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• Honestly? It could go either way starting with Adam and you or Adam and Lute. He’s a greedy bastard, one lover isn’t enough for him! He’s owed it actually! Considering you know who stole his first two wives

• (This is a lie. Deep, deep— seriously however deep your thinking, it’s deeper— down he doesn’t feel like he deserves any)

• Regardless, Lute doesn’t care for you. She tolerates you for Adam’s sake but the difference in how she treats you both is enormous. He can get away with murder— literally! Where you can’t make a smoothie without doing it wrong

• In a way Lute sees all her sisters as potential, future competitors. She rivaled with Vaggie over Adam’s attention until she finally had it all for herself. Who’s to say that won’t happen again? That she won’t be the one to be tossed aside next time? Then you came along and made her fear so much more plausible. So you’re no different than them

• Except you were

• When Adam asked you to bring food, you never failed to ask what Lute wanted. You set three plates during date night or made reservations for three. You bought a third controller for Adam’s game that she never wanted to play in case she changed her mind

• When Adam knocked both of you out of bed in his sleep, twice, you sat up with a smile aimed right at Lute. Flaring, she was ready for you to banish her to the couch. You didn’t. You joked that you three would need an even bigger mattress. In the darkness of night she saw you in a new light, gently illuminated by the stars peaking in through the window

• Adam was fucking ecstatic to see you both having coffee that morning, throwing his arms around your necks, “Fucking finally! Aww, look at my two hotties getting along!”

• Lute didn’t open up overnight but immediately her treatment of you took off. Turns out she did have manners and used them in a much kinder, more genuine tone instead of sarcastically and only when Adam told her to. She praised you for little things even you didn’t notice, walked you to and from wherever you needed to go. So this is what it was like to be on her good side?

• Adam calls you two Double Trouble when you “bitch” at him

• You’re better at shrugging off his retorts

“You love us.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’d love you more if you didn’t nag me,” He mumbles

Lute’s head snaps in his direction, “What was that?”

“I said yeah, I love you! Fuck, get off my dick already.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel #lute x reader #lute imagine #lute headcanon #hazbin hotel adam headcanon #hazbin hotel adam imagine #hazbin hotel adam x reader

[livwritesstuff]

Steve’s oldest daughter Moe is unusually quiet on the drive home from her college apartment in New York City.

She was supposed to be doing this drive with her younger sister Robbie (who had bullied Steve and Eddie into letting her bring a car with her to college), but then Robbie and her friends had actually managed to squirrel away enough money for an impromptu trip to D.C. for their spring break, and Moe had still wanted to visit home even without a ride.

Steve had made a whole show acting all put out over having to make the four hour drive between her school in NYC and their house in the Massachusetts suburbs (twice, he’ll add — he’s been on the road for six hours so far with a couple more to go) but, truthfully, there isn’t much he wouldn’t do to spend time with his kids, especially since the older two have firmly graduated to young-adult status, and he easily could have put her on a train.

“So what’s goin’ on with you, Moe?” he finally asks when the quiet stretches a little to far.

Moe shrugs, and then she says, “I was wondering something.”

“Go for it.”

“You and Dad, like…you were older when you started dating, right?”

Steve pauses for a moment, allowing himself to consider what might qualify as older to his twenty-one-year-old daughter. 

“I guess it depends on what you mean by older,” he settles on telling her.

“I mean, you weren’t in high school anymore, even though you knew each other in high school.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “I was halfway through grad school, so twenty-six, I think, and you know Dad’s not even a year older than me.”

Moe nods in return, and  then she asks, “And you were friends before anything else happened? Like, for a while?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve replies, “Dad, and Aunt Nancy, and Aunt Robin were my best friends. Still are, obviously, just…different over time.”

“But, like, how–” Moe stops, and Steve can tell without needing to look away from the road to check the way her eyebrows are furrowed, the way they’re crinkled in the middle just like they always are on the rare occasions Moe can’t find the words she needs. She lets out a short exhale, “How did you know that it changed?” Before Steve can answer, Moe shakes her head, “How did you know that what you were feeling wasn’t, like, friend things anymore? Or, like, that it was more than just friend things.”

“Uh,” Steve pauses, running a hand through his hair, “Honestly, Nancy kind of told me.”

Moe’s head turns in his direction.

“Aunt Nancy told you?” she asks, “Pop…that’s so lame.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happened.”

“Why?”

Steve thinks about it for a second. It’s funny, he doesn’t actually put too much thought into that time in his life – the seven years that had lapsed between becoming friends with Eddie in the aftermath of everything with the Upside Down and when they’d finally gotten together. That was nearly thirty years ago, after all, and Steve hasn’t ever really been the type to dwell on the past. He takes a moment to dwell on it now and remembers how long it had taken him to notice the dull ache behind his ribs and the anxious somersault his stomach had done every time Eddie so much as looked his way.

“I mean – yeah, you’re right. It’s…it’s not easy when you’re close with someone for a long time and then the way you feel about them changes, because, you know, it’s not – I mean, it’s not like it changes overnight. It’s gradual, so…yeah, it’s not easy.”

“Yeah,” she quietly agrees.

“Nance, just – well, you know Nance. She just clocked it before I did, and I guess she didn’t have the patience to wait it out. Once I knew though, it was, like, super fucking obvious. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t known before.”

Moe’s laugh is nervous in a way Steve isn’t sure he’s ever heard before, and if there’s a friend of Moe’s she might be feeling differently for, he thinks he might have an idea which one. Moe is a hell of a lot smarter than him though, and this conversation is telling enough that she won’t need things spelled out for her in the way he had with Eddie thirty years ago.

“It was hard,” he continues, because he has a feeling Moe might need to hear more even if she isn’t asking for anything specific, “I – I mean, I actually liked dating when I was your age, believe it or not. I thought it was fun, or whatever, and it wasn’t really a thing that made me nervous, you know? With your dad, though…shit, I was terrified, because it’s a different kind of risk than just shooting your shot with someone you run into and hit it off with.”

Moe nods.

“I think the reason it’s so freaky is because falling for someone you’re friends with is never just a crush. I knew there was something big there. I know you guys hate when Dad and I are all sappy, but he was never just some guy I was dating. He was it for me from the very beginning.”

Moe mumbles something under her breath that Steve doesn’t quite catch.

“What was that?”

“I don’t hate it,” she says, her voice still pretty low, and Steve knows that must have been difficult for her to admit so he doesn’t comment on it (though he will be telling Eddie as soon as he possibly can – obviously).

“Well, I’m just saying,” he replies, “I wasn’t feeling that way for nothing, and things turned out pretty good in the end. If someone was in a similar situation, I’d tell them…” he pauses, and then laughs as he says, “I’d tell them to not wait seven years to get a good thing started.”

“Alright,” she replies, “I’ll…yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”

#idk what this is #ur a real one if you know who moe is talking about lol #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

[csuitebitches]

Build yourself a sustainable routine for 2024

you don’t have to schedule all your habits for everyday. Some habits can be for twice a week or thrice a week. If you can’t read 10 pages everyday, don’t fret. Try to read 1 chapter a week. Then slowly progress to 2.

do not be intimidated by accounts like mine. I post a lot of tips but I follow only the ones I know work for me, even if those tips are great. I share a lot so that different people can make use of them. Just because tip A works better for me than tip B, doesn’t mean that tip B is useless. Someone else could find B more useful than A.

How do you know you’re building a sustainable routine?

here are some indicators:

⭐️ the habits are “portable” for the most part - you do not need to be in specific places to execute them (you can read anywhere, you can workout in any hotel, etc).

⭐️ you’re able to follow all your habits at least 80% of the time in a month. Which means out of 30 days, for 24 days you are able to follow your habits. ⭐️ they don’t stress you out. It doesn’t make sense to procrastinate over your habits. The point of the habits is to reduce procrastination and improve yourself. If you’re stressing over it, go back to square one and start small.

⭐️ you are able to see that you’re improving. Maybe you’re feeling more confident, self assured and resilient. Whatever your end goal, it is important to understand that you won’t go from being, for example, under confident to confident overnight. It will happen gradually. Noticing your progress and complimenting yourself for the gradual change is important because then you’re validating yourself for the healthy changes you make. When you validate yourself as opposed to someone else validating you, you are acknowledging the hard work you have put in- this increases your motivation to do even better and to stay disciplined.

⭐️ over time, the habits come to you naturally. Let’s say meditating. You become so used to meditating that not doing it is like not brushing your teeth in the morning. It becomes a part of you and you accept and embrace it instead of dreading it.

⭐️ yes, you will have tough days. You will have days where you want to give up. It is important to schedule at least 2 mental health days a month for yourself where you can choose to do absolutely nothing and just relax. You are human, not a machine. Sometimes you need to push through those tough days and get things done anyway. There is a balance between resting and working hard.

⭐️ you eventually do not feel guilt or shame for prioritising yourself and your routine first. This is the most important indicator. You do not put any boy, friend, anyone (unless it’s an emergency of course) above you. You know you are your most important person.

#c suite #powerful woman #ceo aesthetic #strong women #personal growth #that girl #productivity #getting your life together #balance #Routine #how to create a routine #Sustainable routine

[seraphdreams]

NINTENDHOE! — cyber sex collab.

STARRING. stepbro!shinichiro sano / camgirl!reader.

CONTAINS. stepcest, smut, mutual masturbation, phone sex, praise, pervy yet smitten shin + eighteen plus only.

WORD COUNT. 1.6k

NOTES. this is a part of @fuwushiguro ‘s cyber sex collab , i hope u enjoy ! i’m so very into this stepbro shinichiro lore.

“Fuck, I missed it..”

Shinichiro looked down at his watch, the numbers displayed to him letting him know it was way past midnight. He had practically spent all day in his shop repairing one of the bikes his best friend, Wakasa, had managed to break down, and if working overnight wasn’t the issue, it was definitely the fact that he missed his favorite camgirl’s stream—You, his adorable stepsister.

He had known you were camming for a while, and if you were to ever find out all the perverse things he’d done when it came to you, he’d know that you’d definitely leave his life completely. And he can’t have that. Horniness aside, Shin loves you more than anything, he wouldn’t dare risk vexing his little sister.

An exasperated sigh is let out from Shinichiro as he switches his kneeled position to standing up fully, hovering over the motorcycle while loosening the buttons of his overalls so that the fabric fell comfortably around his waist. Years of fighting on the side aided Shin in his lean physique, toned arms covered in a thin sheen of sweat as his torso is clad with a white tank top, and a singular silver chain around his neck.

He looks over the bike, making sure he mended all that needed to be done before pressing his foot to the gas and starting up the engine.

Perfect. He was finally done and able to go back home to see you. If he was lucky, he’d even get to watch the replay of your previous livestream—although nothing was better than seeing, and hearing you, live.

Just as he turned his back to make way to the door, he’s greeted with the forgotten sight of another motorcycle. What the fuck? How could it have slipped his mind that he had to maintenance check Wakasa’s other bike before a certain time tomorrow morning? “The shit I do for that fucker.”

Before fatigue could swallow him whole, he seats himself on one of the chairs, pulling out his phone and hovering over the facetime button with your name above it. What type of big brother would he be if he didn’t check in on his sister? He taps the screen and allows it to ring.

“Hello?”

The low tone of your voice instantly eases the stress in Shinichiro’s body, feeling as if he’d just taken the strongest dose of any painkiller.

You searched for a place to set your phone down so that he could see your face, and you settled for the dresser. You pace backwards a bit, making sure your whole body fits into the frame of the camera as you waved with an endearing smile.

“Hey,” Shinichiro starts. “Just lettin’ you know I’m gonna be stuck at the shop for a little.. Do you need anything?” He takes in your appearance as you shake your head, the little white towel wrapped around your chest and tautly hugged the plush of your thighs egging on his confusion, much more—His arousal. “Whatcha up to? You’re all covered up.” He smiles, turning his head to look away, his charming side profile filling your screen.

“Was just in the shower, that’s all.” Your response urged a chuckle from him. That’s all? It’s adorable how you manage to still be so innocent for him as if your fingers weren’t lodged deep in your cunt for your followers to see just 15 minutes before.

Shinichiro takes the pack of cigarettes from his overall pocket, taking one out and lighting it. He makes sure to hold it between his teeth after one slow drag.

“You’d better get dressed then.” He doesn’t miss the way you reach over for your phone as if you were about to hang up, catching you before you get too far. “You can change on the phone. I’ll close my eyes—Won’t look at all.”

He does as he promises, closing his eyes to gain your trust and once you feel as though he means it, you drop your towel, completely bare for him. You turn away in search of your moisturizer, squeezing some out on your palm and working it gently onto your skin. Within minutes you forget that Shinichiro is still on the phone, his promise broken unbeknownst to you as the cigarette barely hangs from his mouth, his eyes on your body as you knead your tits.

It’s a mindless behavior when you bend over to apply lotion to your legs, Shinichiro having to stop himself from thinking—or doing, anything rash.

But the devil on his shoulder gets the best of him and he’s slowly unbuttoning the first few buttons of his bottoms, his hand dipping under the band of his briefs to whip out his cock. How long has he been hard? It wouldn’t matter anyway with the way it leaks and beads down the shaft. He wraps his hand around the base, slowly stroking as he watches how you run your hands over your body a second time, much slower than the first.

You have to be teasing, allowing your hands to massage every inch of your body while you try and find something to throw on. You’re bent over in front of your dresser, a peek of your pussy exhibited for your big brother.

The cigarette that was languidly hanging from his lips fell beside him on the ground, effectively putting itself out. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why were you like this?

The stroking pace of his rigid length gradually quickens, the only thought surging through his corrupt mind being the image of you riding his face, whining out for your big brother to slow down as you would continually make a mess of it while he’d take care of you in just the way you need. He knew you felt stagnant when it came to camming. He could see it in those once sparkling eyes of yours that you wanted more. You didn’t need a piece of silicone, and your fingers could barely go in deep enough—You needed him, your big brother.

Caught up in his thoughts, Shin inadvertently lets a few groans slip, his nose scrunched in pleasure and head rolled back as his adams apple bobbed with every profanity growled under his breath. “Fuck, Y/N.. Y’don’t know what you do to me.”

The slick noises emitted from your phone’s speaker turn your attention back to him. Is he…?

In any case, you’d be revolted, yet you can’t find it in yourself to harness that feeling, instead growing aroused at how pretty Shinichiro looked while pleasuring himself. You sat back on your bed mesmerized and your mind wandered to multiple different scenarios with your big brother placed at the forefront. What it would be like to kiss him, maybe get on your knees for him. How he’d look hovering above you with his chain dangling in your face while he’s balls deep in your cunt, the girth of his cock causing him to hit every spot so effortlessly. Before you knew it, your own hands found their way back to your sensitive heat.

If it weren’t for the whimpers you let out while pleasuring your clit, Shin would’ve forgotten he was on the phone. Your choked up mewls snap his focus back to you with your legs spread in front of the camera and free hand pinching your pert nipples.

Am I fucking dreaming? He thinks to himself, eyes gone wide comically while he studies you just as he would when watching your nightly streams. Instead your expression is different. It’s not the same glazed-over emotionless pout that fools in your comments would mistake for genuine satisfaction. It was different, eyes squeezed shut with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth and sweet moans he had never heard before flowing through his ears.

“N-Need you so bad, Shin.” Mindless babbles left your lips, the sentence that your smitten big brother had been waiting to hear. If only you knew how bad he needed you; How no other girl seemed to satiate his everlasting lust like you do. You’re an angel—His angel.

Just watching you causes his hand to involuntarily continue stroking his cock, this time at the same pace as the fingers that dip in and out of your sweet cunt. He squeezes the tautly at the tip, imagining it’s your heat that’s getting him off, the satisfying drag of the warmth of his little sister pulling him closer to the edge with how good she feels.

You feel as though your senses are heightened with the way he watches you, your fingers slowing down in pace as you feel your orgasm build up prematurely. “Keep—Keep going, just like that, pretty..” Shin rasps under his breath, eyes lidded at the sight of you as if he took notice of your faltering pace. “Almost there, baby. Keep going for me.”

Your heart flutters immensely with no sign of ever ending, his utterances fueling you to pump your fingers harder inside you. Just moments after, you’re releasing, moaning softly while riding out your high.

Unexpectedly at the sight of your pretty orgasm, Shin paints his hand in the creamy white of his seed, holding his cock at the base while resting against his chair, chest heaving as if he were in a marathon. “S-Shin-nii..” Your soft voice calls out. His attention is placed back on you, a lazy grin on his features. “Hm?”

“You’re so hot.”

You can hear shuffling on the other end of the line from him. “Oh lil’ sis, you’re hotter.” His shifting comes to an end. “‘m gonna, uh, clean up my little mess and get back to work..”

You nod your head as he talks.

“Maybe I can be in your stream tomorrow night?”

reblogs, likes n comments r greatly appreciated !

#shinichiro smut #shinichiro x reader smut #shinichiro x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev x you #tokyorev smut #tr smut #tr x reader #tokyorev x reader #shinichiro sano smut #tokyo revengers shinichiro #shinichiro sano x reader #shinichiro x you #shinichiro x y/n #shinichiro sano x you #sano shinichiro #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo rev smut

[housethemd]

So in the episode where House is on methadone

Everyone is trying to figure out what’s going on with House, why he’s being nice, etc etc and eventually Wilson is just like “he’s on heroin.”

The surety with which Wilson says this really struck me. Like Wilson doesn’t just suggest House must on drugs that aren’t Vicodin, doesn’t even merely suggest House could be on heroin. No he says with absolute certainty that House is on heroin.

The only way Wilson could be so sure, would be if he’s seen House on heroin before.

Now while I’m quite convinced that House was an occasional recreational drug user prior to the infarction, heroin usually isn’t a drug you might take just for fun at a party every now and again. This leads me to believe that sometime in the early days post infarction is the most likely time House used heroin.

I’m imagining Wilson showing up after work to check on House. Stacy left weeks ago and House is still dealing with that on top of healing and being newly disabled so he’s been in a pretty god awful mood that only Wilson seems to be able to tolerate.

But when Wilson gets there House is in a better mood. Not just a better mood, he’s happy. Wilson knows immediately something is going on.

“What did you do? What did you take?” He’d ask. He knows people’s moods don’t change overnight like that, so either House took something or he’s planning to kill himself. Both are equally possible given his recent trauma and mental state, and Wilson needs to figure out which.

“What? Nothing. Well Vicodin but you know I’ve got a prescription for that.” House would reply, waggling his finger in Wilson’s direction like this is all some kind of joke.

Wilson frantically searches through everything within arms reach of House. Thankfully even with his better mood House can’t move very quickly, and Wilson manages to unearth a bag, and dashes out of House’s reach to open it. It’s filled with powder and syringes and Wilson has done enough ER shifts to know what it is.

“No, House. No. How did you even get this?” He’d ask, shocked.

“It’s easy when you know the right places to go.” House would say, not looking at Wilson anymore.

“The right places to… House you can barely get from the couch to the bathroom how the hell did you get this?”

“I guess I was sufficiently motivated.”

And Wilson’s heart breaks. He doesn’t have it in him to be mad at his friend. His life is upside down and House has never been good with change. Wilson does throw away the needles and flush the drugs and it pisses House off (“Do you know how much I paid for that?”) but once House calms down he makes House swear never again, that he won’t go down that road. Wilson says he’ll do anything, even write him more Vicodin prescriptions if he just promises not to use heroin again.

And House promises.

So when House is suddenly in an unexplainably good mood years later, Wilson thinks he knows exactly what’s going on. He’s angry, House promised. Wilson held up his end of the deal for the most part, so he comes up with a plan to catch House and make him admit to it.

But we all know how that plays out.

#housethemd writes #just regular Saturday thoughts #house md #james wilson #hate crimes md #greg house #hilson #dr house #dr wilson #wilson x house #house/wilson #gregory house #house md meta

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part Ten

Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader

Summary: Miguel continues to recover while trying to figure out how to move on. You take another step forward in your own mourning journey.

Word Count: 23,982

Warnings: I reviewed this three times but I may have missed some errors so apologies in advance; more Spanish terms than usual, I think but translations are provided at the end like always; mostly fluff with a bit of angst but it's necessary angst

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |

Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight |

Part Nine |Part Ten |Part Eleven|

Part Ten

A little while after your friends leave, Miguel and you lie on your respective beds for the night. You’re already passed out asleep but Miguel is still awake and he finds himself, once again, watching you sleep. He looks away, remembering that Lyla caught him staring the previous night. Yet, there’s something comforting about watching you sleep. Miguel doesn’t understand why but there is. There’s the sound of your breathing; slow, even, and soft. It’s like an invitation to sleep. Like a calling, letting him know that it’s safe for him to do the same.

There’s also the sight of you. You’re once again hugging your pillow and Miguel cannot help but wonder if this is how you always sleep, as this is the third time he’s seen you like this. Watching you sleep, Miguel cannot help but feel ternura, a word in Spanish that translates to “tenderness” or “endearment.” However, he specifically thinks of “ternura” because no term in English does justice to the Spanish translation. The term incites a much deeper feeling than “tenderness” or “endearment” in him. It’s different somehow, even if they translate to the same thing and he suddenly wonders, as he watches you, why he’s even having this chain of thought.

He shakes his head gently, wanting to clear his mind and tries to do so by turning his attention to the windows instead with a soft sigh. The blinds are drawn but he can still see through them. His eyes land on faraway lights from cars, while his ears remain focused on your breathing. His mind shifts back to his thoughts from earlier when your friends were here. On how he’ll try to move forward.

He has time to think about how he’ll do it. He knows it’ll be hard and that it won’t be an overnight change as he’s lived with this mindset for such a long time. It’ll take small steps, and some will be harder to reach than others, but he’ll try. He hasn’t given up in the past when it comes to other things, so Miguel now tries to think of this process in the same way. He won’t give up on it. He won’t give up on moving forward. For them. He smiles faintly, still looking out the windows from the bed, as he remembers his family members telling him they were always around. He looks around the room now, wondering. He remembers Gabriel’s words.

“We’re always with you. Even if you don’t believe it or sense us, we’re always there. In every mission. In every universe. Every day and sleepless night.”

Every sleepless night. Miguel isn’t sleepless tonight. Nor lonely. He looks over at you and for a second, he swears he sees the blanket draped over you move slightly. Miguel blinks and shakes his head once again, thinking he should really go to sleep now. With his eyes on you, he can’t help the thought that comes to his mind suddenly.

“If you’re really around at all times, spare me from losing again. From losing… her.”

And maybe it’s silly but Miguel doesn’t take his thought back. He means it and he hopes that if his family is really here or somewhere out there listening, that they’ve heard his plea. With that, he finally closes his eyes and leans back on the pillows, letting your breathing pull him to sleep.

★★★

The next morning when Miguel wakes up, he finds you awake. You look like you’ve showered already and you’re once again typing into the tablet he’s seen you with this entire weekend. It’s Monday and Miguel suddenly feels like he ought to be in his lab, which he now realizes he’s been away from since Friday night. The thought makes him pause for a few seconds. It’s been so long since he’s spent a weekend out of the lab, and he can’t believe it was due to injuries.

He stretches slightly, wincing when he feels pain in his lower abdomen from the trident wound. You notice and are at his side in the blink of an eye.

“Are you okay?”

Miguel nods, meeting your eyes. “Yes, I just stretched too much. Don’t worry, the pain is subsiding now. I thought it’d be better today.”

“Little by little. Try not to put too much strain, especially on the stitches please,” you reply, watching Miguel with concerned eyes, which he takes notice of.

He instantly feels guilty for making you feel concerned over him, so he gives you a small smile, hoping that it’ll reassure you. It does or at least he believes so because you smile back at him.

“Yes, you’re right. I’m just not used – to this,” Miguel admits and then realizes he’s not used to any of what happened this weekend, and so much happened. There were many realizations. Many firsts. Too many thoughts. All with you by his side; his friend, the one that hardly left his side this entire weekend. The one that found him on that rainy rooftop. The one that gave him the gizmo to keep him from glitching. The one that watched him died and come back to life. The one that fed him, and helped him showered with such care and tenderness. His friend. Miguel’s face suddenly feels very warm. He clears his throat and motions to the tablet that you left behind on the fold out chair. “You’re still working on the report?”

You nod, feeling more relaxed now that you see Miguel is no longer in pain. “Sections two and three are done. I’m almost done with the anomaly section,” you inform him, and he nods, remembering that he wants to ask you if you’d be interested in working with him on the report from now on. He decides to ask later, maybe after breakfast.

“That’s good. I look forward to seeing the complete edition,” he answers with another small grin.

“Hopefully you like it,” you reply with your own grin. “Do you want to get up and walk around a bit? Maybe use the bathroom?”

Miguel nods and so, you help him once again to get to the bathroom. You help him brush his teeth and offer to clean his face, which he hesitantly agrees to again. Once he’s ready, you help him walk to the fold-out chair as he doesn’t want to be in bed anymore.

You offer Miguel breakfast and coffee from the cafeteria, which he accepts. You surprise Miguel with another large coffee cup, making him wonder how you managed to do it again. It’s been weeks since he was able to get his hands on one but you’ve managed to get three in the span of two days. The two of you have breakfast together before Jess and Peter B. show up to inform Miguel about the day’s tasks. He nods and listens intently to them while you stand by the windows, behind Jess and Peter B., listening quietly to the updates. At last, Jess and Peter B. head out, leaving you and Miguel alone again.

You offer Miguel the tablet so he can check on some things while you fix the room. Shortly after, the medical team arrives to check on Miguel. You’re both happy and relieved when they report that his injuries are healing correctly and that he’s in the right direction for a full recovery. He’s doing so well that he’s discharged with the instruction to rest at home for another day or two, at least until he can move his arms without hurting himself. 

So, that’s how you find yourself in Miguel’s penthouse over an hour later after the doctor discharged him. It was an hour later for different reasons. You needed to pick up the items from the bathroom and transport everything Miguel received from spider members to his penthouse. The main reason, however, was that the two of you simply stuck around the infirmary room even when you could’ve left sooner.

As you place your personal hygiene items out on one of the nightstands in Miguel’s guest room now, you can’t help but think how it felt like Miguel didn’t want to leave the infirmary room. You wonder if maybe he had the same thought you had as you were packing up. You were picking up his personal hygiene items from the bathroom and suddenly realized it was time to leave the place that became somewhat of a home over the weekend. The two of you were there the entire time on your own with the exception of two or so hours, even with other spider members in the building. 

It was a room in which a lot happened, some of which you wish to not think about while there are other things that make you smile. Exhaustion, fear, helplessness, and other emotions you felt in the early hours on Saturday morning were replaced by the afternoon. Happiness and relief were felt when he woke up at last in the afternoon. There was a bit of humor from the horrible hospital food and Miguel’s grumpiness. There was comfort in seeing him awake and talking, and in his interest in the movies you watched together in the dimly lit room while it rained. There was vulnerability, tenderness, caring… You ate together. Talked. Slept. The two of you shared this one room and in a weird sense, it felt like it was your own little world away from everyone and everything. And perhaps Miguel felt like that, too.

Maybe that’s why he stalled. Maybe that’s why there was relief, gratitude, and something else in his eyes when you walked up to him and told him, “We can head to your penthouse if you’re ready now.”

And unknowingly, you’re correct. Miguel didn’t want to leave the infirmary room because he thought it meant going home to an empty penthouse. It meant your return to your universe. He felt selfish for stalling and for wishing that you’d stop packing but then you walked up to him and the way you looked at him when you told him the two of you could head out made him realize you had no plans on leaving his side yet. At last, he nodded and the two of you left the infirmary room to go to his penthouse. 

You finish putting away your items on the nightstand. You’re unsure of tomorrow but you’ll be spending the night today. With your hands on your hips, you look around the room. You remember vague details of the place from Saturday morning when you came looking for Miguel, hoping you’d find him here and that everything was fine. You sigh as you remember those moments so vividly, how you were rushing from room to room. You clear your head and focus on the bedroom instead. It matches the neutral theme the entire penthouse is decorated with. The room is organized and clean, which makes you wonder if Miguel cleans the place himself or if he has someone clean it, considering he hardly spends time here. Either way, you notice there’s no dust on the furniture.

Your gaze falls on a bookshelf, catching your attention. You walk to it and read some of the books’ titles, noticing some of them are specifically about genetics. You smile softly, remembering from somewhere that Miguel is a geneticist. It’s been a very long time since you learned that and you can’t even remember who mentioned it to you. Your eyes move to another shelf with more books though these are on technology. You notice a few of the titles are specifically about inventions and repairs. You hum, wondering but retreat from the bookshelf and walk to one of the windows in the bedroom.

You stand in front of it and look out before a strange sensation washes over you as you’re met with a beautiful sight of Nueva York. Tall buildings in Nueva York’s futuristic architecture and flying cars in the distance meet your gaze. You chase the sensation, wondering what exactly it is. It feels like you’ve been here before somehow, looking out of this very window but you know you haven’t. You chuckle to yourself and shake your head, knowing it’s been a crazy weekend and you’re probably just tired. You sigh softly as you stare out the window for a few seconds longer before you head out of the guest room.

You walk down the stairs, catching Miguel’s eyes from the living room. He sits on the couch closest to the stairs, so he looks up as soon as he hears your steps. The sight of you walking down the stairs makes him pause as he realizes it’s been a long time since anyone has been on the second floor. He doesn’t even know that this is your third time over this single weekend since he’s unaware that you came looking for him on Saturday morning.

You reach the bottom of the stairs at last and give him a smile. “Sorry if I took a while. I got a little distracted,” you admit.

Miguel raises his eyebrows softly, curious. “You didn’t, don’t worry about it. I hope you find everything to your liking. There are clean towels in the bathroom and other essentials you may need. If you need something, please let me know.”

“Everything is great, thank you,” you answer as you take a seat on the other couch, across from him.

Miguel nods. “I’m glad to hear that. I want to make sure your stay is comfortable,” Miguel says softly. “So, please let me know if there’s something you need.” You give Miguel a reassuring smile and nod before he adds, ”You said you got distracted?”

“The view. It’s so lovely,” you say with a smile and Miguel nods, knowing what you mean.

The view from the penthouse was one of the reasons he decided to move here in the first place back when he thought he’d spend a lot of time here. He did to some degree but he eventually spent less and less time after Gabriel passed away. As he sees your smile and enthusiasm about the view, it makes Miguel realize it’s been so long since he’s admired it. He honestly forgot about it. Before he gets a chance to respond, you look down at your gizmo.

“It’s almost lunch time. I was thinking – I’m kind of over cafeteria food. No offense, it’s great but would you like something homemade?” you ask slowly.

Miguel nods softly, a small grin on his face. “I would but – you don’t mind?”

You stand up from the couch, fixing your top. “I don’t mind. It might take me a minute to get acquainted with your appliances, but I got this. Do you have anything specific in mind?”

“Anything you make will be more than great to me,” Miguel says softly. “Really, I’ll have whatever you make. You’ve done so much and now this, too…”

“You’ve done this for me, too,” you interject quietly walking over to the console table between the two couches. “Besides, I think we could really use a homemade meal,” you add with a chuckle.

Miguel gives you a small grin. “I agree… Thank you. If we need to order groceries, let me know so I can order them.”

His last sentence makes Miguel pause. He holds your gaze, but you don’t seem to mind it, or even notice it. You smile and nod.

“Don’t worry about it. I have groceries at home that I can bring if needed, alright? You just sit here and relax, I’ll take care of the rest. And here are – all these remotes,” you say with a frown as you pick up multiple remotes. “If you want to watch TV in the meantime. I think – yeah, this one looks like it.”

You walk over to Miguel, who’s still thinking about his comment on the groceries, and place the remote in his hand. 

“Yeah, that’s the one. Thank you, Y/N,” Miguel responds at last, giving you a nod before you walk away to the kitchen.

He watches you before he looks down at the remote. He shakes his head, wondering why he’s stuck up on his comment. He turns on the TV but nothing catches his attention, so instead, he slowly looks around his living room from his seat.

The fact that he’s sitting there is strange to him. He can’t remember the last time he sat in his living room. It was some time after Gabriellas’s universe collapsed in the first week after his return. He couldn’t sleep because he was plagued by nightmares of Gabriella calling out to him in fear before she vanished from his arms forever. Yeah, that sounds about right to Miguel. He remembers coming to the living room and sitting here sometimes, in the darkness because he couldn’t stand being in his room. When sitting didn’t work anymore, he’d pace; sometimes forgetting for how long. He paced and paced, something he still does at HQ when he needs a break from the screens, trying to hold back the tears – trying to hold back from screaming in anger, grief, and loss in the dead of night, alone in this empty penthouse.

He remembers looking around on those nights. He barely visited the penthouse during his time in Gabriella’s universe. He had no reason to. It wasn’t his home anymore. It didn’t feel like home anymore. He remembers how foreign, cold, and lonely it felt when he came back. There was no warmth. No sign of family. There were no toys in the living room or pink glitter notebooks on the coffee table with crayons and colored pencils scattered about with the promise that they’d be used again the following day by their owner after homework was completed. There was nothing. It was an empty shell of a place he once hoped he could make a home of, and he was suddenly back because the place that had been his home, no longer existed. Just this.

He couldn’t bear it on top of his recurring nightmares. It was so much easier to immerse himself in work to avoid his thoughts and emotions. It was so much easier to avoid sleep, too, even though he often felt like he was stuck in his nightmares in plain daylight.

And so, that’s why he hardly spends any time here. He only shows up in the morning around six each day to shower and until recently, he’s been staying once a week to sleep thanks to you. Miguel leans back on the couch now as he remembers something from his dream. He scoffs silently as he thinks of Gabriel telling him to sleep and teasing him about gray hairs, which he’s sure he must have by now though he hasn’t noticed them.

“Gabrielito,” Miguel whispers with a small smile, shaking his head. “Trataré. Te lo juro.”

It’s another item on a long list of things Miguel will work on, little by little, but he will try. He’s already made up his mind. He will.

Miguel brings himself back to this moment. The TV is on and he can hear you in the kitchen cooking, yet another strange thing – for someone to be using the kitchen. He can’t help but focus on it. From the sound of cooking utensils and the opening and closing of cabinets and drawers; such mundane yet homey sounds.

Shortly after, Miguel hears your steps. The penthouse has a lovely scent from your cooking and when he looks up, he finds you carrying a plate with food for him. He feels both grateful and guilty at the sight. You’ve done so much for him and spent your weekend not only away from home but your entire universe to look after him. He’s glad the other spider members have kept watch over it while you’ve been here at least but there’s still guilt that you’ve been away for too long.

You don’t mind though. You haven’t even thought about how this is the first time you’ve been away from your apartment in a while, including your universe and you’ve no idea Miguel is thinking about this either, as his face reveals nothing about the matter. He offers you a small smile and thanks you, once again, for everything before you help him. You feel satisfaction when Miguel finishes everything with a delighted look on his face, a far different reaction from when he ate the steamed carrot from the infirmary.

Once he’s done eating, you eat, too. You clean the kitchen afterward and wonder what you’ll make for dinner as you’re still not in the mood for cafeteria or takeout food. On top of that, the way Miguel enjoyed the food lets you know he, too, prefers something homemade. You mentally go through all your groceries from back home and think about what you can cook. You remember a specific Mexican dish you enjoy and wonder if he’d like to eat that. It’s easy to cook but delicious and filling, so you ask Miguel how he feels about it when you finish cleaning the kitchen. 

“Hey, I was thinking about dinner. How do you feel about flautas?”

Miguel meets your gaze with a bit of a smile. It almost looks like he’s trying not to smile. He nods. “Flautas sound great. I can help you if you want,” he offers, with a glint in his eyes.

“You can give me advice from one of the stools.” 

“Just advice?” 

“And conversation, if you’d like. Nothing else though, as you still can’t lift your arms too much,” you say as you take a seat across from him on the other couch. 

Miguel at last gives you a small smile. “Advice and conversation it is then,” he replies softly, amused by your refusal to let him do more to help with dinner. 

You give him a small smile before you grab the tablet Ben Reilly gave you over the weekend. You’re not even surprised by the fact that it still has battery after how much you’ve used it considering all devices in Miguel’s universe have better battery life. At the sight of the tablet, Miguel remembers his pending question for you regarding the reports. 

“Working on the report?” 

“Yes, I’m just editing it now. It’ll be ready for Jess to cover tomorrow for the meetings.” 

Miguel nods, thinking about what he’s about to talk to you about. It’s one of the few things on his mind right now. “I wanted to ask you…” 

You look up, wondering if he’s in any discomfort you haven’t noticed yet, though Miguel looks fine. His natural color has fully returned now, and his energy is higher. He’s on the right track in his recovery. Still, your eyes quickly take in his appearance, finding nothing wrong. You relax again but wonder what’s on his mind.

“I noticed you seem to like working on the report and I was wondering if you’d like to work on them from here on now – with me,” Miguel says, meeting your eyes. “And Lyla,” he adds, remembering her just now.

You hold Miguel’s gaze, processing his offer. You weren’t expecting him to say that, so there’s a bit of surprise on your face, which is noted by Miguel. A few seconds later, you nod with a smile. 

“Yeah – I’d like to. Thank you.” 

Miguel nods, giving you a small smile. “Great. And once I’m back – hopefully by Wednesday – we can talk about when to start the system training for you and Peter. We could start this week if the two of you are available.” 

Still smiling, you nod. “That sounds great. I’ll be available. As long as there’s no emergency, I’m clear.” 

Miguel nods, feeling relieved and happy that you’ve agreed. “Great – It’s – It’ll be great having you on the team – for the reports,” he says, feeling a little bit flustered. “Later this week we can discuss how we’ll approach it.” 

You continue to smile and nod. “That sounds wonderful. I look forward to it! Thank you again,” you reply softly, noticing Miguel’s reaction. The significance of this doesn’t elude you. You know Miguel hardly asks for help or lets others collaborate with him but he’s invited you to work with him on the reports now and then there’s the system training, too. You look down at the tablet once Miguel nods at your reply, not wanting to make him uncomfortable as you understand these sort of situations are not easy for him. Still, you think about it and what it could mean. 

Miguel O’Hara, founder and leader of the Spider Society, has asked if you want to help with the reports from here on now. On top of that, he’s open to teaching selective members, you being one of the first two approved members, how the society’s network system works. 

You can’t help but wonder if the events of this weekend have impacted the man sitting across from you more than you thought. That maybe, he found himself at a crossroads and he has chosen a different path. You imagine that coming face to face with death will do that to someone. You sigh silently as you begin editing the report, hoping. 

Once you’re done, you show the completed report to Miguel, who looks pleased with your work. With Miguel’s approval, you send it to Jess for tomorrow’s meeting. 

The two of you spend the rest of the day in the living room. You remember that you didn’t finish the film series the two of you started watching over the weekend, so you resume where you left off, taking walking breaks with Miguel since his body finds relief in stretching since he’s not used to sitting and laying down as much. This time when you start watching the third movie, the one that neither of you could understand until you realized it was the third installment, the two of you finally understand what’s happening.

By the end of the fourth movie, you look over at Miguel and find him sleeping. He’s laying on the couch with his head propped on pillows you retrieved from his bedroom earlier since you helped him lie down in the last walking break. 

The fifth movie starts playing and you leave it on, not wanting to disturb Miguel’s sleep with sudden silence. You look at the tablet to check the time halfway through, realizing you should probably go and collect all the ingredients you’ll be needing for dinner since you’ll have to travel to your universe. You look over at Miguel again, who’s been asleep the entire time, and feel relief that he’s resting.

You recall what Jess said to Peter B. and you before Miguel woke up on Saturday. She mentioned there was a chance Miguel would try and wave the situation off like nothing. That he’d probably try to jump back to work right away. You were worried he was going to try, especially when he started talking about scheduled meetings and the unfinished report shortly after waking up on Saturday. Yet, Miguel hasn’t pushed himself to go back to work nor argued with you about resting or taking it easy.

Instead, Miguel has allowed himself to be taken care of. You know it hasn’t been easy and there have been times that his embarrassment was visible, like the first time you helped him eat or when you wiped his mouth clean. You remember the slight tint on his cheeks and the aversion of his gaze. No, this weekend wasn’t easy for Miguel at all for obvious reasons but also because of the amount of trust and vulnerability he had to show.

Yet, he wanted you to stay. You know that. In his in-and-out state of mind after he was resuscitated, he asked you to stay. You smile sadly now. It was only in that vulnerable moment that his mind wasn’t protected by his usual boundaries, that he was able to say that out loud. Not only did he want you to stay but he also trusted you with his care. So much happened this weekend but at least it wasn’t all bad. There was some good, too. You feel as though a lot was said even if it wasn’t said out loud. It feels like another step forward.

You continue to watch Miguel. The sight of him sleeping brings you comfort as he looks comfy and peaceful. Your gaze moves to his chest for a few seconds, watching the movement intently. His chest rises and falls evenly; a sign that he’s alive and well. It feels as though you’ve spent the majority of the weekend doing this; making sure he’s there and that this isn’t some dream you’ve thrown yourself into to escape the bitter reality that you’ve lost someone once again but thankfully, this isn’t a dream. 

Still, your mind leads you to two brief thoughts. The first is about how you watched Miguel die and how that makes him the second close person in your life that you’ve seen pass away. Except the two situations you’ve witnessed ended differently with one of them making it. That leads to your second thought on how Peter’s death anniversary was only a few days ago and if something had happened with Miguel – it would’ve been just days apart. 

The thought alone fills you with a heavy feeling. You’ve known you care about Miguel for a long time now, so it’s not a surprise but as you sit there and reflect, you realize just how much you care about him. It suddenly hits you all at once and you don’t even want to think where you would be right now. You’re just now fully moving forward and if things had turned out differently with Miguel – you know you would’ve been thrown right back to square one.

But you’re not in that scenario. You’re here and Miguel’s alive, sleeping across from you safely with that same peaceful and boyish look on his face that makes you smile but also wonder if this is the first time Miguel has slept this much consecutively in a while. Even when you were first recruited into the Spider Society, it wasn’t hard to pick up on the founder’s habits, especially when other members talked about it. You learned quickly that he worked day and night, which meant he probably didn’t sleep much.

And so, you can’t help but wonder how long it’s been since Miguel has rested like this. You don’t know but with his sudden acceptance to let people help him more at HQ, you hope he’ll also start to sleep better.

With one last glance, you head to the kitchen. You check what Miguel has already and then make a quick trip to your universe to gather other items, including more clothes for yourself, before you return to Miguel’s penthouse. You check on him once you return, finding Miguel still sleeping before you head back to the kitchen and start working on dinner.

You check on Miguel regularly as you work on dinner, making sure he’s alright. All throughout, he sleeps peacefully and it’s not until your third or fourth round that you find him waking up. He yawns softly before he looks up at you.

“I’m sorry. It seems I fell asleep at some point,” he apologizes, pulling the blanket down softly.

“Don’t worry. It’s good that you’re resting,” you answer walking closer to him. “I’m almost done with dinner in case you’re hungry.”

He nods. “I can smell it. It smells – amazing,” he says softly, meaning it. “Thank you again. I really appreciate it,” he adds quietly, and you nod.

“Always.” You clear your throat quietly. “Do you want to get up and stretch?”

Miguel nods. “Yes, please. And I did say I’d give you advice and conversation – maybe I’m not too late.”

You chuckle as you pull the blanket from him, placing it to the side before you help him up. He winces slightly as most of his pain is now focused on the trident wound. You’re careful with him as you lead him to the kitchen and help him take a seat. You make sure he’s comfortable before you walk to the stove to check on the food. 

Miguel settles on the chair, the pain subsiding slowly. He silently hopes that by tomorrow it’ll be better so he can start moving his arms more. He looks around the kitchen, the scent of the food filling his nostrils even more now that he’s at the heart of the cooking. He spots sour cream, fresh cheese, green salsa, and cut cabbage, which looks prepared with lime juice. It seems that you have all the toppings for the flautas ready. 

You carefully make more flautas by rolling tortillas with the filling and putting toothpicks through them so they’ll hold while they cook in the pan with hot oil. Miguel’s eyes land on you as you add the first batch. 

He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s still waking up or if it’s something else but he can’t help but think how the penthouse feels different right now. It’s as if you’ve brought a warmness to his penthouse. A homey feeling that makes this place feel less lonely, cold, and empty.

You turn around and walk to his fridge to retrieve a pitcher before grabbing ice on a scoop from the freezer. You place both things in front of Miguel and grab two glasses, making Miguel notice that you’ve found your way around his kitchen perfectly. 

“I made some agua de jamaica. Would you like some?” you offer. 

“Agua de jamaica…? Yes, please. Thank you,” he says with a bit of surprise. “I haven’t had any in – God, I don’t know. Years, I think,” he admits as he watches you pour some for him after adding ice. Once done, you carefully slide the glass to him across the counter. 

Suddenly, the irony of this moment doesn’t elude either of you. Months ago, Miguel did the same for you at your apartment with a different drink under different circumstances. Miguel meets your eyes and all you can do is hold each other’s gazes as the two of you silently think of the same thing. At last, you smile softly, earning yourself a soft grin from Miguel. 

“I’ll get you a straw, hold on. I think I saw some reusable ones somewhere,” you mutter as you turn around to search. Miguel is about to tell you where they’re located but you find them right away. You walk around the counter to him, sliding the straw into the glass before you grab it and hold it up for him to drink, making sure to hold the straw steady for him. He leans forward and tries it. 

Miguel almost sighs at the wonderful taste. It’s not too bitter nor too sweet; it’s perfect. Miguel sips quietly, drinking half of the glass in one go as he’s taken back to the days when he used to drink this frequently. Seeing him almost finish the glass makes you happy, though you mask it to avoid making Miguel uncomfortable. At last, he releases the straw and leans back. 

“It’s really good,” Miguel says quietly. “You just reminded me how long it’s been since I’ve enjoyed an agua fresca, specifically this one. It’s one of my favorites,” Miguel shares. “Thank you.” 

You put the glass down on the counter and nod with a small smile. “I’m glad you liked it. I don’t know why but I remembered I had some hibiscus leaves at home and I thought it would be perfect with the flautas.” 

“Flautas and agua de Jamaica –” Miguel pauses, wanting to tell you that you’re spoiling him with such a meal. He looks down, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as he debates telling you his thoughts. “You’re spoiling me,” he admits at last, quietly. 

Your smile grows as you hear his words. “You haven’t tried the flautas yet. Maybe let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You might not even like them,” you say with a chuckle before you walk to the stove to flip them. 

Miguel grins, watching you. “I doubt they’ll be anything but amazing. I mean… It smells great and you have salsa,” he says eyeing the green salsa, hoping it’s spicy. 

“I think I made it too spicy but hopefully you like it,” you say as you continue to flip the first batch of flautas.

Miguel remains quiet but after a few seconds he responds with an amused tone. “I’m sure I’ll be able to handle it.” 

You hum in response as you prepare a container to put the flautas in once they’re done cooking, before setting it aside. It catches Miguel’s eyes. He doesn’t even remember where it came from or where it was stored, which makes him realize just how acquainted you’ve become with his kitchen, much like he did with yours so many months ago. Miguel thinks about that day and how he fixed some of the things in your kitchen while you slept. For a few seconds, he wonders if they’re still working fine before his thoughts shift to another pending question for you.

He’s been searching for the perfect time to ask... What were you doing at HQ so late when you discovered something was wrong? He wonders if you needed something – maybe someone to talk to. Maybe you were sleepless and you thought of him. And of course, the one time you may have needed him, he wasn’t there for you because his insistence to go alone on solo night missions got him in trouble for once. He’s been wondering ever since Jess and Lyla mentioned you being the one that found out he was in trouble, and right now seems like a good time. The two of you are in a good mood and there’s no one else, so that means no interruptions. 

“Y/N… May I ask you a question?” he asks. 

You finish checking on the food and place the tongs away before turning around to face him. He has a very serious look on his face; one that worries you. You approach the counter and nod. 

“Sure… What do you want to ask me?” 

Miguel’s eyes meet yours. “What were you doing at HQ so late on Friday? Or, rather Saturday morning, I suppose,” he says quietly. 

You hold his gaze for a few seconds before you look at the glasses on the counter. You suspected that at one point he was going to ask, you just didn’t expect him to ask so soon. You thought you’d have more time because hell, you haven’t had time to really think about it. You hoped you’d have more time so you could explain everything properly, especially after you told Jess what happened. Jess may have thought that she fooled you but you didn’t fail to notice that she wanted to say more on the matter. There was also the way she looked at you afterward. It made you feel as though what happened was something major and really strange. 

Almost like nothing close to it has ever happened before and if it has, it’s rare. You can’t help but worry. If Jess held back and found the situation odd or as something shocking, then you wonder what Miguel’s reaction will be. You don’t want to alarm him, to make him feel like – You don’t even know how because you haven’t had time to properly think about it but now Miguel is asking, and he thinks you were at HQ for some other reason and that you just happened to discover something was wrong when in reality he was the reason you were there at all.  

But – you won’t lie. So, you sigh quietly and grab your glass with agua de jamaica, taking a long drink before you set the glass back down. You check on the flautas over your shoulder; they look fine. You do this in the span of a few seconds, knowing that you can’t and shouldn’t prolong answering Miguel’s question or then, it’ll make it seem like you don’t want to tell him and he may find the events even more uncomfortable or weird. You look up at him, once again feeling the irony that you’re in his kitchen cooking and looking after him the way he did for you so long ago.

You offer Miguel a smile and shake your head at last.

“It wasn’t like that,” you say, meeting his gaze. Still smiling softly, you continue. “You want to know how we found you?” 

Miguel nods, though he wants to correct you. There was no “we,” just you. You were the one that found him on the rooftop. The one that discovered something was wrong by going into his lab for some unknown reason.

“I’m just – curious,” he replies, and you nod.

“Yeah, I understand. I’d like to know, too,” you say quietly and pause for a few seconds before you start. “It was three in the morning and I was at home sleeping.”

Miguel’s eyebrows furrow, confused, yet he doesn’t interrupt you. He notices the way you’re being careful with your words, as if you fear that the wrong word will set him off.

“Out of nowhere,” you pause. “I woke up. My spidey senses were going off and – I quickly got up to check my two-way radio.” You look away for a second at the counter. “I was certain it was something in my city, you know? But for once, my city was fine, and nothing came from the radio.” You look up at him again. “I suited up and I went out to check regardless because my senses kept going off. I looked around my city and there was… nothing. Everything was fine in my universe, at least. So, I decided to go to, you know, other universes like Hobie’s, Miles’s, Gwen’s… I did a quick check to figure out what was happening but each universe was fine. There was no emergency and yet,” you pause and shrug slightly. “My senses were still warning me. I traveled to multiple universes in the span of two minutes, I think, trying to figure out what was happening until I finally realized I should tell you because maybe it had something to do with the multiverse.”

You quickly check the flautas again, looking behind your shoulder. You don’t want to end up letting the food burn or worse, cause a fire in his home. You face Miguel again when you see the flautas look okay. Miguel continues to watch you, hanging onto every word you say. He notices that you find this hard to talk about and he slowly begins to understand why the more you share what happened.  

“So, I went to HQ and um – I called for Lyla so that she could let you know that I was there but she didn’t respond like she normally does. I tried again and once I saw that she wasn’t responding I just – I felt that something wasn’t right. So, I decided to go into your lab and figured that I’d just apologize for intruding later but when I did – your lab was empty. The screens were red, and you – you were nowhere to be found.”

You look down at the counter and sigh silently. “And so – I reached out to Margo and you know – she never goes to bed at a reasonable time. She always goes to sleep so late and – anyway, I for once hoped that she didn’t listen to our encouragement on fixing her sleeping schedule. Thankfully she didn’t because she immediately showed up and started working on the system once I told her that it wasn’t working and that – oh yes, I was trying to reach you through your gizmo but it said you were offline.” 

You look up at Miguel, who still hasn’t taken his eyes off you as he listens to your recollection of the night. He watches you with both guilt and ache because he can see that talking about it is hard for you. It’s obvious to Miguel with how you’re pausing and looking away from his eyes.  Then, there’s the fact that despite everything, you still thought about apologizing for going into the lab if you had found him there, which just makes Miguel want to smile and tell you that you don’t need to ask or notify him anymore; that you haven’t had the need to do so in a really long time but he just hasn’t told you yet because of what it would mean and because he has a feeling that you’ll continue to do it regardless because you’re always so respectful. 

But for now, he wants to stop you, so that you don’t have to continue thinking about that night, yet you carry on. “We realized something wasn’t right with your offline status, so while she started fixing the system… I actually came here to look for you,” you say quietly, holding his gaze. “I hoped you’d be here.”

Miguel holds your gaze, feeling like someone is squeezing his heart with your last statement. You were hoping he was here, safe.

You give him a sad smile.

“I checked every room and you weren’t here. I went back to HQ, knowing that something was definitely wrong. It was confirmed when Margo got Lyla back and she told us very briefly what happened, so – I headed to Earth-42 and soon, we had a whole search team looking through the city until we found you…” you trail off.

“You found me,” Miguel says. “I remember… It was just you before everyone else arrived.”

You hold his gaze and nod. Miguel’s mind is whirling with thoughts about everything you’ve said.

“Your spidey senses… They warned you about me,” Miguel states, not as a question but as a fact. 

“I don’t know how that’s even possible,” you admit. “But the good thing is we found you and we brought you back home.”

Miguel nods but he still wants to correct you. It was you that found him. You alone. You somehow also knew what building to check, and he has a strong feeling that it’s related to the first mission you joined him in but that isn’t the most important part of this. It’s the fact that your spidey senses were tipped off across the multiverse - for him, who doesn’t even possess that ability. Yet, somehow across the vast multiverse, you sensed his situation. 

As he continues to hold your gaze, Miguel remembers you were the last person he thought about before his consciousness first slipped. From that point on, he was in and out of it but suddenly you were there, kneeling by his side talking to him and shielding his face from the cold rain with your own mask; slipping your gizmo into his wrist to protect him from glitching. All because your spidey senses went off… For him.

He doesn’t understand how it’s impossible. He thinks about it, going through multiple explanations as he possibly can in the moment but one thought keeps popping up. It feels like it’s the only one that holds despite having no scientific evidence. 

There’s a bond between the two of you. 

A connection that’s strong enough to travel across the multiverse. It both worries and comforts Miguel. There’s that fear - that fear that he’ll lose you, too - and this only adds to it. How will he ever go on if that ever happens when such connection exists? And yet, there’s comfort from it, too. To know that even in your deep and peaceful sleep, away in your own universe, you sensed his danger because of this connection. And that very same bond allowed you to find him, to save him.  

Miguel’s gaze softens. “Thank you,” he says quietly with a heavy tone, as if moved by your words, and he is. He has a lot to thank you for and wishes he could do and say more. He wishes he could find a way to show you how thankful he is for everything - for you. 

Smiling, you nod slowly. “Always…” you quietly answer in Miguel’s kitchen, feeling glad that you’ve told him. It’s out now. You were worried Miguel would react negatively but instead he’s thanking you and there’s a look on his face - like he’s thinking of something else - like he knows something that you don’t. You want to ask but despite everything, you remain the same as always. You don’t push his boundaries. 

Suddenly, you remember the food. “Oh, shoot,” you say and quickly walk to the stove, sighing in relief when you see the flautas are intact. “They’re good!” You quickly take them out, placing them on the container you prepared earlier. Miguel smiles at you as you do this. 

You add a new batch to the pan before you walk back to the counter, feeling the need to change the conversation now so you pour yourself more agua de jamaica. You take a sip and nod. 

“I forgot how good this is,” you say quietly, placing the glass down and looking up at Miguel, who has been unable to look away from you. 

He’s determined to do this. He’s thought about it so many times now but suddenly he feels a stronger push to seek this journey. This journey that felt so unreachable even in his dreams because they were always plagued by nightmares but now - as he sits across from you with everything that’s happened this weekend in his mind - he feels as though he can reach over and graze that journey - that possibility - with his fingertips. 

It’s there like it’s never been there before, and hell, Miguel is going to reach for it. He wants to. For his family. For you. For him. 

“It’s so refreshing,” Miguel replies, feeling overwhelmed with everything going on in his mind but he still eyes his own glass, which you notice. 

“You want more?”

Miguel nods and so you help him take another sip. You finish cooking the last batch of flautas and fix two plates. It doesn’t occur to you until you’re ready to help Miguel eat that flautas, much like empanadas, are finger food. So you find yourself helping him eat much like you did that day, holding a flauta from one end as he bites from the other one. You also forgot how messy flautas can be with all the toppings, so you find yourself cleaning his mouth more than you did with the empanadas. 

“I’m so sorry, I completely forgot utensils can’t be used to eat this or how messy eating flautas can be sometimes,” you apologize quietly as you gently wipe the corner of his mouth but Miguel shakes his head slightly, trying not to move much. 

“It’s alright. I didn’t think about it either when you suggested them. I guess we were both in need of a homemade meal. So much that we forgot to think ahead,” Miguel replies once you withdraw your hand, sounding amused. “It’s so worth it though. These are some of the best flautas I’ve ever had. Thank you again for this amazing meal.”

You put the napkin down and chuckle. “Always, and yes. I was a bit tired of cafeteria food. I was so relieved Jess and her husband sent us homemade food yesterday. I just missed it,” you answer. “And I thought it’d be better for you, too, as part of your recovery.”

You take a bite from one of your own flautas now, for once eating at the same time since Miguel asked. He hasn’t liked the fact that you’ve been eating after him, with your food growing cold. On top of that, this makes it feel more like you’re actually eating a meal together. You finish eating and take a quick sip of your drink before offering Miguel his own glass. He quietly accepts it and drinks as you hold the glass for him. 

The two of you sit side by side on the island chairs, facing each other. Miguel is slightly slouched to accommodate you for his height, making it easier for you to bring the food to his mouth. As you do so, you can feel Miguel’s warmth radiating off him, especially on your legs, since they’re slightly pressed against his so you can reach him but it doesn’t seem to bother Miguel. 

Once you’re both done eating, you clean up the kitchen to make sure it’s back to the way it was: spotless. The two of you talk quietly as you clean, and you have to decline Miguel’s help more than twice because he insists he should do something. You finish cleaning by wiping down the last counter, noticing the time on the stove’s clock when you look up. It’s still early but Miguel still needs a shower and his wounds to be checked on. 

“Whenever you want, we can head upstairs so you can take a shower and I can look at your wounds.”

“We should probably do that now before it gets too late. I don’t want to keep you up and I’d like for you to finally rest on a proper bed, which reminds me, I’m sorry you had to sleep on that thing,” Miguel mutters, sounding upset. 

“Don’t worry about it! It was actually comfortable,” you reply with a smile as you stand across from him. 

“I don’t know how but you did look comfortable.”

You shrug. “It was comfortable, really. Don’t worry about it or about keeping me up but you - you should rest properly. Resting on the couch is not the same as resting on a bed and I bet you’ll feel far more comfortable in your own bed, especially after a shower,” you say. 

Miguel’s head tilts to the right. “Alright, it does sound better than the hospital bed.”

You chuckle. “Well, whenever you’re ready”

Miguel tells you he’s ready and with that, you help him up the stairs and into his bathroom. Like the previous day, you fix the shower head so his wounds are not directly hit by the water and leave towels within reach for him. Thankfully, Miguel’s bathroom is large and spacious, and even has a built-in bench that’ll help you wash his upper body. You leave him to wash his lower body and head downstairs to quickly make some canelita. Since you remembered the day Miguel went to your apartment for the first time months ago, you thought about it, too, and now you feel like it’d be something nice to end the day with. Maybe it’ll even help Miguel relax before he goes to sleep. You put water and cinnamon sticks into a pot before you put it on the stove to boil. You head back upstairs and prepare everything you’ll need to take care of Miguel’s wounds. You also prepare his bed, thinking it’ll be so much more comfortable and spacious than the hospital’s with his king size bed. 

You head back downstairs to check on the canelita, surprised to see it’s already boiling. You add more water to it before returning upstairs to check on Miguel. You know it’ll be a while before he’s ready since you asked him to take his time to avoid hurting himself accidentally. You walk to one of the windows to look out for a few minutes before you return downstairs to check on the canelita. You turn it off when you see it’s ready and get two mugs out before going back upstairs. 

You enter Miguel’s bedroom just as he calls your name, ready for your help. 

You help Miguel wash his torso like the day before using the built in bench to do so. You notice Miguel seems far more relaxed, especially because the two of you make conversation as you repeat the same process from yesterday. You start from his shoulders until you finally reach his lower abdomen with your careful and gentle touch all throughout. You wash his arms and then his back before you eventually start on his hair.

Miguel sits sideways on the bench with his head thrown back to give you easier access. Your fingers glide through his hair as you lather the shampoo into his scalp. His eyes are closed, not only because you asked him to avoid getting any shampoo in them but also because he’s once again overwhelmed by the pleasant sensation of your fingers. He thought it’d be easier today but he finds himself clutching the towel around his waist once again. Internally, he’s just glad that the two of you are conversing so he can focus on that and avoid embarrassing himself with any accidental noises escaping from him. 

You finish by rinsing his hair out and drying the excess water with a towel, taking the chance to dry his neck and shoulders, too, since water made its way to those areas. You clean his face with lukewarm water and reusable cotton pads, telling him you’ll clean it again after he brushes his teeth.  

As you do so, you can’t help yourself and once again, take in every detail of Miguel’s face. You're so lost in concentration that you don’t notice Miguel’s own eyes doing the same with your face; observing everything from the color of your eyes to your eyelashes to the bridge of your nose and lips. His gaze grazes every inch of your face. You smile a bit when you notice some stubble on Miguel, which he notes. 

“What is it?” he asks softly. 

“Just noticed you have some stubble.”

“Oh, yes. Maybe tomorrow I can move my arms more and take care of it,” he says as you glide the cotton pad over his cheek. 

You nod. “I’m sure tomorrow you’ll be able to move more. Just try not to push it, okay? And if you still can’t reach your face, I can do it if you trust me,” you say quietly as you move to the other cheek, which makes Miguel smile faintly. 

“After all your help, it would be silly not to trust you with a razor to my face.”

You chuckle. “I guess that’s fair. I can help you tomorrow then. Alright, done.” You back away slowly and put the cotton pads away. “Do you want sweatpants and a jacket to sleep in?”

“I think I can go without the jacket tonight,” Miguel answers, straightening up gently before meeting your gaze. “The place won’t be as cold as the infirmary room.” 

“As long as you’re comfortable, it’s your choice. Let me get your clothes then.” You quickly collect the clothes for Miguel before returning to the bathroom with them. You place the sweatpants on the counter and hold on to his boxers to help him start dressing. 

The two of you succeed again by sticking to the same method from yesterday and in minutes, Miguel is dressed, ready for you to take care of his wounds. The process takes about fifteen minutes while the two of you talk about how much better his wounds look. You also notice he doesn’t wince as much as he did the day before. You lean back when you’re done, giving Miguel, who is sitting at the edge of his bed, more space. You slide the office chair you brought from his office back, taking a look at the injuries from afar. 

“Was that alright? Any discomfort?” you ask, as you put the supplies away. 

“None at all,” Miguel answers. “Thank you.”

You nod. “Do you want anything else to eat or drink? While you were showering I made some canelita. Would you like some?”

Miguel looks at you with surprise. “Really? I… You’ve done so much already, you shouldn’t have,” Miguel says softly, looking away in embarrassment. He can’t help but think about the fact that you cooked twice today on top of helping him shower and move around, and yet you’re still going out of your way to make him even more comfortable.

“I remembered it earlier and thought it would be nice. It’s not a big deal, Miguel. You know it’s not hard to make, so don’t worry about it, okay?” you say gently, trying to reassure him. “Now, would you like some? I think it’d be nice to drink before bed.”

Miguel finally looks back at you with a soft sigh. He nods and smiles faintly. “I can’t say no to canelita, so yes, I’d love some, please. And thank you, again,” he says, still smiling faintly, which makes you smile in return. 

“Great! I’ll go get you some then. I’ll be right back.”

With that, you head downstairs and get two mugs of canelita on top of a straw before you head back upstairs. You find Miguel still sitting at the edge of his bed when you enter the bedroom. He seems to be looking towards the window but at the sound of your footsteps, he turns to face you. You place your mug on the window ledge so you can cool Miguel’s by stirring the straw around gently as you stare out the window. 

“I’m trying to cool it for you,” you say softly, still looking out. You can’t help but feel mesmerized by Nueva York’s beautiful sight at night. You’ve spent several days here but you’re truly taking it all in now that everything is much calmer regarding Miguel’s health.

“What are you thinking about?” Miguel asks, noticing the fascinated look on your face. 

“The view.”

Miguel nods, still looking at you and recalls you talking about the view earlier. He looks out the window, too; trying to see what you see. 

“You know… Sometimes, I get so wrapped up with what we do that I take this for granted,” you suddenly say as you turn to him, still trying to cool off the canelita for him. 

Miguel meets your gaze, surprised.

“You know what I mean? I’ve the chance to see flying cars and use this amazing technology.” You motion to the gizmo on your wrist. “I’ve visited so many universes. Work with so many versions of us. It’s just really amazing we can do this. To have each other...” you trail off, thinking about all your friends, including Miguel. You can’t help but think about the possibility of none of this happening. It could’ve very easily never been possible and there would be no Spider Society. All of you would’ve gone on never knowing about the existence of the multiverse or of each other. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m suddenly thinking about this. It’s all just so incredible. And it’s all possible thanks to you,” you quietly add, smiling. 

Miguel holds your gaze and gives you a soft smile. No one has ever thanked him for this, and it’s not like he’s expecting anyone to or even asking to be thanked. It feels nice but more importantly, your words make him pause. He’s been so busy that he’s never truly stopped and thought about how incredible it truly is. “It really is, isn’t it?” he asks quietly as he thinks about it more. He’s so used to the technology and always keeps himself busy, making it easy to forget and acknowledge how amazing it is. It just makes him realize how he, too, takes for granted many things in his universe. 

Miguel begins to make the attempt to get up, making you place the cup on the ledge quickly. “Hold on, Miguel. I’ll help you,” you say as you stand by his side. 

You help him up with ease but he winces slightly and pauses for a few seconds. His arm is around your waist as he lets the pain die down before he fully stands up, letting go of you slowly. 

“I’m starting to feel less and less pain,” he says and you nod, stepping away a little to give him space. He towers over you as he finds his balance, finding it easier than earlier. He nods and starts walking on his own. His steps are more determined than they’ve been the entire weekend, which is wonderful to see. You give him space but remain ready to help if needed, knowing that this is a great sign for Miguel’s recovery. He reaches the window and stands partially in front of it, as if leaving space for you. 

You walk closer and stand by him with plenty of space between the two of you. Miguel looks up at the sky, watching constellations. He can’t recall the last time he looked up at the night sky to see the stars, which fills Miguel with a sudden sadness. He composes himself and tries a different perspective, a less sadder one. He’s looking and appreciating it now and that’s what matters, right? He subtly looks down at you, noticing your gaze on the city before his eyes shift to the same view. He tries to see the place he grew up in through your eyes. He looks at the modern architecture, the flying cars, and the train to the moon, which he hasn’t been on since he was a teenager. He looks at it all with a new perspective - your perspective - and he’s filled with a sense of awe, realizing it is amazing.

After a few more seconds of silence, you offer him the canelita again. 

“I should sit down again or you won’t be able to reach me,” Miguel says as he starts to move but you make him pause. 

“I think I can lift myself for this,” you offer. “If you wish to stay like this, I can do it.” 

“What if you get burned?”

“I won’t. I’m sure it has cooled off by now.”

Miguel looks down at you and then nods. “But be careful… Please.”

You nod and grab his mug but before you do anything else, you put some of the liquid on your palm using the straw to make sure the liquid is suitable to drink. Satisfied, you walk closer and shoot a web to the ceiling before you slowly lift yourself to an appropriate height. 

“Just wanted to make sure it’s actually cooler now. Don’t want you burning your mouth through the straw,” you say as you hold the cup securely in your hand and bring it close to his mouth. With your finger, you keep the straw from moving as he leans closer to take a drink. You look out the window for a few seconds, as if giving Miguel privacy because of the close distance between the two of you now. A few seconds later, you face him again just as he steps back, nodding. 

“Very soothing,” he says quietly, looking at you as a soft smile appears on his face. “I’ll probably fall asleep very soon with this and the shower.”

“That was the plan,” you say with a chuckle. “You ought to rest. It’ll speed up the recovery.”

Miguel nods with that soft smile still on his face before the two of you continue to look at the city through his bedroom window, drinking canelita. Your gaze takes in everything about the city, and Miguel continues to look at it your way, realizing he’s taken this for granted even more than you, and that maybe he ought to stop and admire it more often. 

Miguel smiles faintly at you about thirty minutes later. He’s on his bed now and you’re fixing the covers over his body. Your fingers brush past his bare skin as you do so, and you subtly but quickly step back once you’re done though Miguel doesn’t seem to mind. 

“If you need anything, just let me know, okay?” you say, looking down at him with a soft smile. 

Miguel nods, looking at the gizmo on his nightstand. It dawned on you moments after you told Miguel he ought to rest that you’d be in different rooms tonight, which means that if he needs anything, you won’t be able to hear him. After telling him, you suggested you could sleep on the floor but of course, Miguel immediately rejected that idea. 

“You’re not sleeping on the floor, Y/N,” he quickly said with a stern tone followed by what you could only describe as a low growl. 

So, that idea was instantly scrapped until Miguel remembered he had an extra gizmo in the penthouse. He keeps all of them at HQ under tight security for obvious reasons but he’s always kept an extra one here, just in case, which is now sitting on his nightstand and will help him communicate with you if he needs anything. 

“I will, don’t worry. Thank you,” he says, still thinking about your suggestion. He wants to shake his head in disbelief at you. There’s no way in hell he would’ve allowed that. Ever. 

“Alright. I’m off then. Good night,” you say softly before you quickly retrieve the mugs from the window’s ledge. 

“Good night,” Miguel replies, eyes on you. 

You’re about to exit the room when he softly calls your name. You pause and turn around. Light from outside illuminates parts of his room, which makes it easier for you to see him. His eyes meet yours with a relaxed and soft look on his face. 

“I just wanted to tell you - thank you. For everything,” Miguel says in the darkness.

You smile softly, not failing to hear the way he emphasizes the last word. “Always, Miguel… Good night,” you whisper. 

“Good night,” Miguel whispers back before you pull the door after you exit, leaving it ajar. 

With your retreating steps, Miguel lays on the bed and stares at the ceiling now. He suddenly has a sensation wash over him. The one that lets you know that you'll remember every detail of a specific event or moment for years to come, no matter how much time goes by. Miguel has that sensation now. He’ll remember this entire weekend, this moment, for the rest of his life. 

He hums faintly, looking up at the ceiling before he closes his eyes, ready to fall asleep. Yet, he can’t, even though he’s tired and willing. It feels like twenty minutes pass by and Miguel is still awake. He’s perfectly comfortable on the bed. He’s tired and sleepy but he cannot fall asleep. With his eyes still closed, he sighs and starts thinking about the previous nights and how easy it was to fall asleep even though the infirmary room wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world; the room was very cold and the bed wasn’t nearly as comfortable as his own is. His bedroom is definitely far more comfortable but… It’s missing something that the infirmary room had, or rather someone. 

Miguel’s eyes snap open with that thought. 

“Mierda,” Miguel whispers as he realizes. 

You’re not in the room sleeping nearby, letting your breathing call him to sleep. He lays there for a few minutes as the realization sinks in. He didn’t realize how much the sound of your breathing while you slept helped him the last few nights. He sighs softly and closes his eyes, thinking about something. Maybe if he just…

He feels like an idiot for trying but he does it anyway and surprisingly, his brain has no difficulty. He recalls the sound of your breathing from the previous night by memory, perfectly. 

And it seems to work for tonight because Miguel succeeds and falls asleep soon after. 

★★★

Miguel moves around his kitchen with ease as he cooks. It’s Saturday, exactly one week since he woke up in the infirmary room. He can move his arms freely now and he’s been walking normally since Wednesday. His less serious injuries are fully healed while the trident wound has a day or two left before it's completely healed. Thankfully, Miguel feels better and more like himself, at least physically. 

It’s strange. It’s late in the afternoon on a Saturday, and he’s home instead of at HQ. He went in this morning to work on something but now he’s back and he has plans to stay the rest of the day here. If it goes his way, of course. 

Miguel pulls out a fresh lettuce from a delivery bag. He ordered groceries earlier to prepare dinner, finding it easier than going out to shop. He opens it and begins to pull some of the layers off before carefully washing the leaves. He cuts them into strips and when he’s done, he places it on a container, adding water to keep it fresh. He feels a little nervous but at the same time, he really wants to do it. It’s the least he can do after everything. He checks the meat he has on the stove, seeing that it’s halfway done. He stirs it before he leans back on the counter, looking around his penthouse as he thinks. 

He finds it hard to believe that only a few days ago you were staying here. You stayed a total of two nights and you somehow made the place feel different. Now, Miguel can’t seem to find that feeling. He grew so used to hearing your footsteps and drawers opening in the kitchen in such a short amount of time. Your presence has made Miguel realize that he misses having someone around like when he and Gabriel lived here together. His young brother made the place feel homier, much the same way you did. It didn’t feel empty, cold, or foreign.

He sighs, thinking about how he needs to find a way to make this place better because he hates how he feels when he’s back.

He remembers the first evening without you here. The penthouse was quiet and empty. He stared out the windows of the living room for a few minutes. It felt wrong. He walked upstairs and that feeling remained. He stopped in front of the guest room, or rather Gabriel’s old room, knowing it was empty. Yet, he pushed the door open and stepped in. There was no sign of your stay and Miguel found himself thinking it was very like you to leave the room the way you found it, seeing as you’re always so organized and tidy. Yet, it bothered him because it made it feel like you hadn’t stayed at all. Like it had been some kind of dream. 

He walked further into Gabriel’s old room, pushing his other feelings away. He doesn’t like to go in there much as it still pains him when he thinks of the days they used to live together before he moved out to the next floor. There are some belongings of Gabriel left though; some of his books on repairing. At the sight of them, Miguel picked one up before he sat down on the bed. He started flipping the pages, finding his brother’s messy writing on the margins with notes and measurements. It was then that his nose picked up on it. The only sign that you had been there at all was your scent. 

Miguel ignored it as he continued to try and decipher Gabriel’s handwriting. He laid on the bed, resting his head on the pillows as he held the book up trying to figure out what a specific portion of text said. Suddenly, your scent was awakened by his movement, filling his nostrils and he found himself breathing deeply. He found comfort in it before he started to think he was being weird. He left the room pretty soon after, closing the door after himself and forgetting about it until later that night when he found himself in bed, once again unable to sleep. 

He tried playing your breathing in his head. It helped the previous two nights perfectly but suddenly it wasn’t working. He was tired and willing to go to sleep unlike so many nights but yet he couldn’t reach it. He got up, ready to pace like always but ended up in Gabriel’s room instead. He stood before the bed for a while with a thought on his mind but he knew it was too much. Yet, he also knew it was two in the morning and nothing was working. So he did it, thinking it didn’t hurt to try. He pulled the covers and got in bed. 

He laid there, eyes closed as your scent engulfed him like cloud formations, and the memory of your breathing playing in his head. He woke up the next day with Lyla peppering him with questions about why he was sleeping in Gabriel’s room and poking fun at him because she had to wake him up. He got in the shower, wondering. Was he in such a bad state that he needed to hear someone’s breathing and their scent to sleep?

He also questioned how he was going to sleep later on. It seemed that simply recalling the sound of your breathing wasn’t enough anymore. The only reason he had slept the previous night was because of your scent. So now, not only does he have to figure out how to make his home better but also find a solution to his sleeping problem. Your scent is still present in Gabriel’s room but he knows that within a few days, it’ll be gone. He’s been thinking about buying candles or something of the sort. Otherwise, he might find himself unable to sleep when he’s now trying. 

Miguel shakes his head and remembers to check the meat. He stirs the food carefully, remembering how much you liked this dish on Christmas Eve, which is why he’s making it. He’s spent the rest of the week getting back to work, figuring out what was done and how it was done but he’s also been thinking about how to thank you properly. He thanked you that first night you stayed over and again the following day, and then once more on Wednesday morning. He had his movement back and there was no need for you to stay another night away from your universe. The two of you knew it. You had breakfast together one last time in his kitchen and then you were there, standing with your travel bag packed and ready to go and the sight of it made - Miguel stops. He doesn’t want to think of that moment because thinking about it includes admitting how he felt when he saw you with your travel bag in hand. He felt a wave of something rush over him. Sadness.

As soon as he realized what he was feeling, he felt appalled. He’s already on edge with admitting out loud that you’re his friend and suddenly he was feeling sadness that you were leaving and he wondered, if your departure alone made him feel like that - what would he feel if something ever happened to you? 

Miguel knows he’s grown fond of you. He’s grown attached to you. Perhaps too much, considering your scent and the sound of your breathing are the only two things that have helped sleep so far. 

“Definitely too much,” Miguel mutters to himself with a sigh. 

He looks at the clock to check the time. He’ll be sending you a message soon to ask if he can drop by your place. He plans on inviting you for dinner and surprising you with burritos de tinga, as you seemed to really enjoy them on Christmas Eve but now he wonders if he should’ve asked you sooner. For all he knows, you may have plans with your other friends or on your own. He decides he can cook another day for you as a way to thank you, if that’s the case. He just wants to do this as a way to show you his gratitude, even when he knows nothing he ever does or says will ever fully be enough to show his appreciation and gratitude to you - for you.

He sends his message ten minutes later before he adds sliced onions to the meat. Your reply arrives about two minutes later, telling him you’re home and that he can drop by. He lets you know it'll take about ten minutes, the amount of time it’ll take to finish cooking. Once he’s done, he places the lid on the pan to keep it warm, expecting to be back soon. 

He looks around briefly, making sure everything is ready before he opens a portal and travels to your dimension. In a matter of seconds, he steps out into your living room as small objects float in midair. His eyes take in the scene before him until they land on you. 

You’re sitting in the middle of your living room’s floor, leaning over your console table with a paintbrush in your hand and multiple blank picture frames laid out on it. The living room is… an organized mess. You look up at him just as the floating objects fall back into place and smile. Miguel blinks, the sight branded to his mind. 

“Please excuse the mess,” you say as you put down the paintbrush.

Miguel scans your face carefully, noticing paint on your cheek. He smiles back at you, finding the sight amusing before he looks around your apartment. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says softly.

Your walls are empty of decorations. Your console table is covered up to protect it from the paint. Your old rug is rolled up and propped against a wall next to another one still in its new wrapping. There’s a large unopened box with a picture of a bookcase and an extra couch wrapped in new protective material while your older one is partially covered. 

You’re redecorating your apartment. 

“I seem to have come at the wrong time,” Miguel says as he returns his gaze to you. 

You shake your head and get up, stretching slightly. Your arm pops, and you wince quietly before you give him a smile. “Don’t worry, it’s never a bad time. I’m just - redecorating,” you say as you look around briefly before returning your gaze to him. “May I get you something to drink? Thankfully my kitchen area is functional,” you say with a chuckle as you walk towards him, motioning to him to take a seat on one of the two chairs on your kitchen island. 

Miguel follows you, facing your kitchen now, which yes, appears to be spared from the redecorating. He watches as you walk into your kitchen and wash your hands carefully as he reaches the counter. He lays a hand on it just as his eyes flicker to the side where he finds an open laptop. He accidentally reads the multiple tabs you have open, all regarding storage units in your city. He quickly looks away, not wanting to invade your privacy. 

“Thank you but I’m alright,” Miguel replies as his gaze finds you again. 

You turn around and nod, leaning on your counter. “You sure?” you ask softly and stretch your shoulders again, feeling tension after painting pictures frames for a while since you decided to give them a new look instead of buying new ones. 

Miguel nods with a little smile. “Yes, I’m sure. Thank you though. I’m actually here because well -” Miguel pauses and straightens up. “I wanted to thank you again for everything and I know, you’re going to say I already did,” Miguel says once he sees you about to interject. “I know but I still want to do something to show you my immense gratitude. I cooked dinner and I was wondering if you’d like to join me tonight,” Miguel says quietly. 

You tilt your head slightly and smile at him. “That sounds wonderful, though you don’t need to do anything to show your gratitude, Miguel. You know why I did it,” you reply gently. 

“I know,” Miguel says, fully knowing why. He swallows, not knowing what gives him the sudden push to say the next words. “Then… You know why I’m doing this.”

His words take you by surprise, making you take a few seconds to acknowledge them, which in other circumstances they wouldn’t have left you feeling startled. With anyone else you’d smile, acknowledge them, and move on; maybe even throw in some banter because the friendship is constantly acknowledged verbally but the words didn’t come from just anyone. Those words are not as easy to say for Miguel as they are for you. You also know this is the closest you’ll get to hearing Miguel admit out loud he considers you a friend, too, before he directly admits it one day. You finally nod and smile softly, trying to keep it casual because you know this isn’t easy for Miguel and the last thing you want to do is make it a big deal in front of him, even though it is. 

“So, what did you cook?” you ask instead. 

Miguel gives you a soft smile, feeling relieved that you took his words well. “Burritos de tinga. I’ve made agua de jamaica, too.”

“Tinga?” you ask carefully with excitement, remembering how amazing his cooking was back on Christmas Eve. He nods, noticing a bit of a glimmer in your eyes. You chuckle and look around your apartment. It’s a mess. You nod. “I think I could use a break from looking at this mess. And burritos de tinga sound like the perfect way to forget about it for a little bit.” 

With a chuckle, Miguel nods and opens a portal. “I finished cooking a few minutes ago, so it’s just a matter of heating the tortillas.” 

Miguel tilts his head towards the portal, as if motioning to it. With a nod, you step out of your kitchen area just as Miguel moves aside to let you in first. The two of you find yourselves back in Miguel’s penthouse in seconds. You sigh in relief as you’re met with organization and tidiness, stepping aside in Miguel’s living room to let him lead the way. 

Miguel steps out, motioning for you to follow him to his kitchen and dining area. You look around a bit, feeling strange to be back so soon already but quickly put it aside as the lovely scent of food fills your nostrils. Your stomach growls in response, making Miguel look behind his shoulder with an amused look in his eyes. You don’t even try to hide it. 

“I was very close to ordering takeout,” you say as you reach the chairs.

“It's a good thing I messaged you at that time then,” Miguel says as he walks around the kitchen island to the fridge to take out the tortillas. “Go ahead and take a seat. I’ll start heating the tortillas.” 

You nod and sit on the second chair, leaving the one at the edge for him. You sigh softly and relax into the chair, just now realizing how exhausted you are even as a spider person. “Yes, it’s a good thing. This is a million times better than whatever I was going to get,” you say and chuckle as Miguel turns on the stove and puts a pan to heat the tortillas. He chuckles as he heads back to the fridge to retrieve a pitcher, the same one you used a few days ago. 

He grabs two glasses and ice and pours you some agua de jamaica, sliding it across the counter for you. “How long have you been working on it?” he asks as his eyes find the spot of paint on your cheek again. He doesn’t say anything about it and pours himself a drink, amused. 

You drink the contents of the glass, suddenly realizing how thirsty you are. You lift a finger, motioning to Miguel to give you a second as you drink more before finally setting the glass down. Miguel eyes it and motions to the pitcher as he takes a drink, too. You nod. 

“Yes, please,” you reply before he pours you more. “I started on Thursday morning with breaks in between and decided to try and finish it today, so I woke up extra early. I’m kind of hoping to finish it tonight but I don’t know if that’s going to happen.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow and nods. “You must be exhausted.” He also can’t help but wonder how you got the new couch into your apartment, considering you’re several floors up. 

“A little bit. I think I’ll feel good to go once I eat something. Thank you by the way,” you say softly, smiling. “You didn’t have to but I appreciate it.” 

Miguel nods with a soft smile before he turns around to check the pan. His hand hovers over the pan to feel the heat, and feeling satisfied with it, he places the first two tortillas. 

You look down at your refilled glass and drink some more before you lean back on the seat, feeling your back relax after being hunched over your table for who knows how long. You’re trying really hard not to think about Miguel’s indirect way of saying you’re his friend, so you decide to think of something else, like your apartment and the current mess it’s in. You wonder if you should keep going once you return home or if you should leave it for tomorrow but the idea of leaving the living room a mess another night bothers you. 

The place is a mess but you need to do it. You’ve put it off for four years now, keeping the apartment the same way it was while Peter was alive to cope with the fact that everything and everyone was moving forward while you were stuck in time; refusing to believe everything was over in the blink of an eye. Outside your apartment, people lived their lives. Flowers bloomed and died. Hot and humid days turned into cold and rainy ones with the promise of snow. Everything was moving forward and your apartment was the only place where you could pretend, even for just a few hours, that everything was the same.

You could pretend that Peter would come in through the door any minute from a quick run to the grocery store or from work. Or maybe he came back from collecting the mail, holding another package with new Spider-Woman merch to add to his collection even though you told him repeatedly he didn’t have to buy anything to show his support. He always did anyway and you could never get on to him. How could you? All he wanted to do was support you like he always did and of course, it was always a sight to see him wearing Spider-Woman merch. You smile sadly at your glass, and sigh silently.

So, you kept the apartment the same. You cleaned and tidied up the place regularly but things remained the same. You had the same furniture and kept it in the same place as if nothing had ever happened. You were okay with that, as it was one of your coping mechanisms until last Friday when you looked around, realizing that your apartment has remained untouched by time. 

But, everything and everyone has moved forward, and so have you. 

It hit you suddenly on Thursday, the first morning you woke up back at your place. You spent almost a whole week away but you didn’t think much of it. You woke up, brushed your teeth, and made your bed after leaving it unmade in the early hours of Saturday when your spidey senses were going off. You never imagined that you wouldn’t come back to it until days later. 

You finished making your bed before heading out of the room to get some breakfast but ended up pausing at the doorway, suddenly struck by everything. You were away for so long that the apartment smelled the way a place often does when you spend time away. You slowly walked to the middle of your living room and stood there, looking at everything as if you had stepped into someone else’s home and in a way, you had.

You stepped into the home of another version of you. A version of you that doesn’t exist anymore. You turned around and looked, finding remnants of a woman’s life that no longer exists. 

You stared at your wall with photographs for minutes as it laid out the reality for you. You were staring at pictures with people - once friends - that you now know nothing about. In fact, it reminded you of the time that you saved one of your old friends and their child when they were almost struck by a car. You remember being shocked to see your friend holding on to what appeared to be a two year old. You were so surprised you were only able to nod in response as they thanked you profusely before you swung away. 

Your memory only fueled your realization that the people on those photos were - are - different people now, and so are you. You looked around your space again, realizing the apartment was no longer an accurate representation of who you are or where you’re at in life - so you started the process. You took down the picture frames and removed the photos from a different life long gone with Peter, leaving you with empty picture frames to fill with photos of this new life. As you did that, you saw the rest of the apartment for the first time through a different perspective. You saw the beat up rug, the way that the bookcase’s shelves are dented in the middle from so many years of holding books, and your couch that has seen better days among other things that highlighted the truth.

As the morning sun streamed into your apartment, you saw a new vision for the space that you love and hold dear to your heart. Yes, it could use some improvement and the kitchen is especially a testament to that, as it has had some things here and there in the past, some of which Miguel fixed the first time he was there. You could move somewhere else, having the means to do so but you love it. You’ve loved it from the first moment you laid eyes on it when there was an opening to rent. You knew it was going to be the perfect place to start out before you and Peter eventually moved out, especially with early talks about a family one day but that isn’t in the works now. That’s in the past. Those were the plans of a woman who shared them with her partner. 

Now, you need new plans, even if they don’t fully include Peter. Not in the way you wish, at least. You’re not moving out and don’t plan to even though you’ve been in the same apartment for over five years and it could use some improvement; even when you don’t recognize your neighbors since the previous ones are long gone. 

No, you’re staying and changing your space to honor your current self, starting with the living room before you move to other areas of the apartment, slowly but surely. 

You look up at Miguel just as he slides a plate with burritos to you, your thinking face not going unnoticed by him but he doesn’t ask. He guesses it’s related to the current state of your apartment. You offer him a smile, letting go of your thoughts and focusing on this moment.

“Thank you,” you say and he nods before he walks around and sits next to you. 

He offers you the toppings and refills your glass from which you’ve been drinking from this whole time, making it your third glass. You thank him again and add the toppings to your plate.

The two of you start eating in silence for a few minutes, simply enjoying the food and each other’s company. Miguel is internally happy to see you enjoy the dish once again, as he notices your looks of delight with each bite. The more you eat and relax, the more you start thinking maybe you ought to stop for today and continue tomorrow. 

Miguel cleans his mouth gently and finally breaks the silence as you take a drink from your glass. 

“Would you like more?” he asks and you immediately shake your head. 

“Thank you but no, my hunger has been satisfied. And so has my thirst,” you joke as you motion to your glass, already halfway empty. “Thank you. This is amazing, truly.”

Miguel nods and takes a drink from his own glass, with a soft smile on his face. He’s glad his dinner plan lined up perfectly with today so you could have a good dinner after a long day of redecorating. He places the glass down, suddenly remembering the multiple tabs on your laptop with storage unit searches and your old couch that’s currently partially covered, leading Miguel to piece together that you’re storing it. He thinks of his own furniture, or rather furniture that belonged to Gabriel and his mom, which is all stored away in the next two floors.

“I’m happy that you enjoyed it,” Miguel says nodding to you. “It’s a good thing I planned it for today. A good homemade meal is always great after a long day like yours.”

You grin and nod. “Yes, it is. Except dinner wasn’t only ‘good.’ It was amazing.”

Miguel chuckles quietly and leans back on his chair, making his towering height over you even while sitting, more apparent. “Thank you. I’m really glad you think so,” he answers, looking down at you. His eyes very briefly pass over the paint on your cheek again before his gaze meets yours, still thinking about the furniture and the searches on your laptop. “So, you got a new couch.”

“I did… I think it’s time,” you answer quietly with a small smile, turning your gaze to your glass. You hold it in your hand, twisting it carefully as thoughts of your apartment return. You look up at him again. “I’ve had the same couch - since Peter and I moved in,” you add softly. 

Miguel nods, silently realizing how long you’ve had the couch then. He knows it’s been four years now since Peter’s death since you mentioned it the day of, on top of the years you’ve had it since you bought it. That means the couch has been in your possession for over four years. Yet, it looks like you’re still going to store it anyway. As if reading his thoughts, you tell him about it. 

“Peter and I bought it when we first moved in together. A lot of the furniture was bought then, actually. We were fresh out of college and kind of broke,” you say and laugh quietly. “But we really wanted to move in together and we planned financially for months until we found that apartment. It was perfect for us to start out.” You shake your head slightly, recalling those days. “Anyway, we furnished the place and it’s been the same since. I refused to change it after his death… I just couldn’t,” you whisper, looking back at your glass. 

Miguel closes his hand into a fist, fighting the urge to reach out and comfort you physically. The comment about your apartment being the perfect place to start out for you and Peter makes him remember something. He’s taken back to the first day he showed up at your apartment to check on you. As he was fixing a loose cabinet, he wondered why you lived there when it looked like you had a bad landlord. He remembers thinking you deserve to live somewhere nicer, which is why he asked if you were struggling with money when you mentioned the rent is good. 

He wondered to himself if that was the case as it is for many spider members who find it difficult to keep an everyday job with the duties of a superhero, which is why there’s a program within the Spider Society to help those members out. He instantly regretted asking though, when he saw the way you froze in place after that; your eyes teared up as you glanced at the photo of Peter and you had this faraway look on your face until you said that it didn’t matter as you were out a lot anyway. That was his cue to drop the subject. He knew from that point on that the apartment was important to you but he didn’t realize just how much. 

You clear your throat and smile up at him, oblivious to Miguel’s thoughts and his clenched fist. 

“But - after spending some days away, I went back and it just hit me that I need a change, you know? It’s lovely and it’s served its time but it doesn’t represent me fully anymore, my apartment, I mean. So, I decided to redecorate and that includes a new couch but…” you trail off, thinking about your old couch. It’s not in the best condition anymore but you still can’t find it in yourself to throw it out like nothing. “I don’t want to throw out my old one. Peter and I spent a lot of our evenings there and - I don’t know. I know it’s stupid-” you start but Miguel interrupts you. 

“It’s not stupid,” he says in a serious but reassuring tone as he turns his body more to you, leading to your legs brushing each other’s now. “It’s perfectly normal. I have stored furniture, too,” Miguel shares, wanting to comfort you at least this way. You look up at him then, surprised but at the same time comforted by his words, so he decides to add more. “Gabriel used to live here. The other room was actually his. We lived together for a while until he decided to get his own space. He did a lot of repairs on tech pieces and didn’t want to clutter here,” Miguel says looking around before he looks back at you. “So, he bought the next floor and moved out. After some things happened - my mom also moved to this building. She bought the next floor when it became available, wanting to live closer to us. They didn’t live in their own apartments for long though,” Miguel pauses, thinking about how his mom passed away a year later after she moved in. Gabriel followed suit a little while after her. “I inherited their possessions and - their apartments are still like they left them, for the most part,” Miguel whispers. “I know it’s not easy to let go of items.” 

He can’t help but think about Gabriella and his wife. If he could’ve kept their belongings, he would’ve. The only thing he has left is Gabriella’s acoustic guitar that he brought to Nueva York a few days before their universe collapsed. He was going to tune it for Gabi but he never got to it. Now, it’s the only physical item he has left of her, so he keeps it safe downstairs in one of the bedrooms, only retrieving it when necessary like on Dia de los Muertos to offer it to Gabi. 

You nod softly, feeling comforted by his words and also touched that he has shared yet something else with you. You lay your hands on your lap. “Thank you, that really - that really makes me feel better,” you reply quietly, giving him a relieved smile. “I appreciate it.” 

Miguel nods, at last relaxing his fist as he sees your smile. “Always,” he answers quietly before he remembers the searches on your laptop again. His eyebrows furrow a bit. “I didn’t mean to intrude but I saw the searches on your laptop when you offered me something to drink. You’re putting it in a storage unit?” 

You nod. “Yes.” You sigh deeply, remembering your search. Your sigh sounds tired to Miguel. He’s been unable to stop thinking about it and he realizes now it’s because he’s been worrying about your belongings. “I’ve been looking for storage units but they all have mixed reviews. I’m going to visit each place and see which one is better this upcoming week to compare.”

Miguel nods. “Yeah, that sounds like the best idea to avoid any damage to your belongings.” 

You nod before you take another drink of agua de jamaica. 

Miguel looks down at his own glass, thinking. “You know…” he starts, making you turn to him slightly. He looks at the remnants of his drink. The ice has melted quite a lot, diluting the agua de jamaica into a light maroon color now. “No one goes downstairs but me. I clean both floors twice a month to make sure they remain clean. If you want…” he says and turns to you. “If you want, you can store your furniture there. It’d be safer.”

You start shaking your head as soon as he’s done talking. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you but I can’t possibly accept that,” you decline politely.

Miguel’s eyebrows furrow slightly. “You’d have access to it at all times. You don’t have to let me know if you decide to come in and check on it. It’ll be safe here, probably more so than in most storage units,” he says softly. “I wouldn’t mind.”

You shake your head. “That’s too much, Miguel. It’ll be cluttering your space. Thank you but no. I appreciate the thought, though.”

Miguel shrugs, still looking down at you. “No one lives there. I hardly go down there except to clean. It won’t be an inconvenience to anyone. Seriously,” Miguel says. “Just think about it. All the furniture downstairs has been stored for years and it’s intact. I’d hate for something to happen to your belongings,” he says softly, genuinely concerned when he can tell how much the couch alone means to you. 

You sigh softly, thinking about it and Miguel wonders why you’re being so stubborn about this. It’s a simple offer. 

“Are you worried something is going to happen to them here?” he asks you. 

“No, of course not. I’m pretty sure they’d probably be safer here than in most storage units but -” you pause. “I don’t know.”

Miguel shakes his head in amusement. “I won’t let anything happen to your furniture and you can come in any time you want. I’ll show you how to access the floor and everything. Really, it’s not an inconvenience, Y/N.”

You sigh again thinking for a few seconds until you nod slowly. “Are you sure, though?” you ask, making Miguel tilt his head to the side with a soft grin. 

“I’m sure. C’mon, I’ll show you the space so you can see it’s clean,” he says standing up. “I’ll clear this up later, don’t worry about it,” he says when he notices you pick up your plate, taking it from your hand gently and putting it back on the counter. 

He motions for you to follow him, walking the opposite way of the living room. You follow him, thinking about how you haven’t seen the entrance to his penthouse, or a laundry room for that matter now that you think about it. Miguel comes close to the wall and he opens a door that you hadn’t even noticed before with ease. He turns around to let you in first. “Sleek doors,” he says, noticing your confusion. “They’re meant to blend in with the walls to give the space a sleeker look.” 

You nod and thank him as you step into a hallway that leads to another room. You spot three doors in the hallway, actually noticing them this time even though they’re sleek doors, too. 

“Laundry room,” Miguel says, motioning to the first door on the right. “A bathroom for guests,” he says, pointing to the second door. “And another office,” he says for the single door on the left. You follow him down the hallway, stepping out into another living room, smaller than the other one but still larger than your own apartment. “A living room for guests, while the other one is for family and friends,” Miguel explains. 

“It’s lovely,” you reply genuinely because even though this is supposed to be smaller and perhaps less personal, it’s still a very beautiful living room that leads to a grand entrance. You keep following Miguel as he leads you out of his penthouse, stepping out into his private entry before you enter an elevator and reach the next floor. 

The two of you step out of the elevator with Miguel continuing to lead the way to the apartment’s front door. He reaches out and presses his finger to a screen on the wall, which scans his entire hand before the door unlocks. He opens it and lets you in first. You slowly walk down a hallway that opens up to the entire apartment, which is impressive and luxurious. You see furniture, or rather the shapes of it, as everything is covered just like Miguel said. Blinds cover the windows completely, keeping the sunlight out. Everything looks organized and clean, even the picture frames on the wall, which your eyes very briefly scan, noticing Miguel is in some of them with Gabriel. You look away out of respect and focus on the apartment itself. 

Miguel stands behind you, giving you time to look around before he does the same. His eyes land on the photos on the wall. He thought about taking them down but never got to it and he eventually thought about how Gabriel wouldn’t like it either, especially when Miguel still has the apartment in his possession. So, he just left them up. You turn around to face him and nod. 

“The blinds keep the sunlight out and the temperature is right to avoid any damage. Everything has a protective sheet, as you can see,” Miguel says, looking away from the photos. “No one else comes here except for me.”

You nod again. This is much better than any of the photos you saw from actual storage units, of course. You look around again ready to ask about the payment, noticing that Miguel is looking at another photo. 

“What do you think?” he asks gently. “I think it’s better than a storage unit and you don’t have to worry about paying,” he says, giving you a glance. “I know you were just about to ask.” 

You smile and laugh.”You can read minds, too?”

“I saw it on your face,” Miguel answers with a shrug, smiling softly before he turns his attention back to the photo. It’s of Gabriel and him. In fact, a majority of the photos in the apartment are of them. A few have their mother, too, though there’s no sign of the father.  

You stand a few feet away from Miguel in silence, not wanting to intrude. He seems lost in thought with his unwavering gaze on the photo, and how could he not when Gabriel has been on his mind all week. Miguel’s loved ones are always present in his mind but that’s especially true after what happened a week ago. 

“He was better than me with the decoration,” Miguel mutters, still looking at the photo. “He and my mom got on to me about it. They were the ones that decorated the penthouse after I went a few months without doing anything to it. Gabriel on the other hand… He had all these photos hung up three days after moving in.”

You nod, though Miguel isn’t facing you. You look at the photo from where you are, noticing that the O’Hara brothers look to be in their teens and even then, Miguel towered over Gabriel.

Miguel shakes his head softly. He feels like a lot has changed since the last time he was here and it wasn’t that long ago. Now, he’s here again with you, and that makes you the first person that’s visited this apartment in years besides himself. If Gabriel is really out there, with the rest of his family, he wonders what they think of this fact and of you. He suddenly remembers his dream and how they kept telling him you were calling him. He recalls the way they seemed delighted about it, and he takes that as a sign that if they’re out there - or here, who knows - they must be happy about this, too. 

Miguel sighs softly and turns around to face you at last with a gentle smile. “I’m sorry, I was thinking about - my family,” he says, wondering when he’ll tell you about his dream because it’s no longer about whether or not he will. Not anymore. 

“Don’t apologize. I understand,” you answer, smiling. 

“You know - they would’ve really liked you,” he quietly says, which catches you by surprise.

“I - Thank you. I wish I could’ve met them,” you reply, and he nods, wishing, too.

“Me, too,” he answers in a hushed tone. He clears his throat softly. “So… What do you think?” he says motioning to the apartment. 

“Yes,” you say, nodding, feeling a bit embarrassed to accept his offer. “If it’s not too much… I’d really appreciate it.” 

Miguel nods. “It’s not an inconvenience. Believe me. Do you want to bring it right now? I can help you, if you want,” he offers, even though he knows you might want to do it on your own. 

“You’re already doing me a big favor… I don’t want to bother you with one more thing.” 

“You wouldn’t be bothering me, Y/N. It’s not an inconvenience. Please…”

Please let me help you, Miguel wants to say but the words don’t come out, so instead he holds your gaze and hopes you can see it in his eyes; that he wishes to help you, if only you let him. 

You nod slowly, eyes softening at the sight. “Alright… Thank you. I guess I could use some help, since I’m moving it across the multiverse.” 

Miguel nods, amused but glad that you’ve accepted his help. “I’ve never transported furniture through the multiverse, so this will be a first for the two of us.”

You laugh, even though you feel like you’re overstepping by bringing your couch here but in the end, Miguel and you successfully move your couch from your universe to his. As soon as you step back into Nueva York, Miguel carries it on his own like it weighs nothing. He places it near a wall once you tell him he can put it anywhere after he asks if you have a preference. He retrieves a protective sheet before turning around to face you.  

“Thank you so much,” you say genuinely, feeling bittersweet to see your couch in another space. You smile fondly at it, forgetting for a second that Miguel is in the room with you, and of course, he notices the look on your face. 

“I’ll wait outside,” he says quietly but you shake your head. 

“No, it’s okay. It’s - It’s just a couch,” you say softly but you know it’s not true. It was once the couch that completed an old vision for your apartment. One that included Peter. It was the couch you spent your evenings on, reading your books before he asked you to dance with him to his favorite songs. It was also the couch on which you sat with Peter’s head on your lap as your fingers played with his hair after a long day from work to ease his stress. 

Miguel walks to you and offers the protective sheet, knowing you must do it. He walks around you and stands a few feet away to give you space. You walk over to your couch, letting the protective sheet unfold. You don’t give your couch a “goodbye” but rather a silent “bye” as you know it’s not the last time you’ll see it. You smile fondly at it before you drape the protective sheet over it, covering it fully. You step back, letting your eyes trace the familiar outline of it and sigh. It’s time. One more step forward. You feel a tear roll down your face and wipe it away discreetly, thinking about how Peter would be proud of you for taking this step. You smile at the thought of him, sweet Peter. You nod softly and turn around to face Miguel, still smiling.  

Even from afar, he can see the trace of a tear on your cheek, softening his expression. He’s relieved you’re not crying because he doesn’t think he’d be able to handle seeing you in such a vulnerable state. The thought alone… devastates him. 

Yet, you smile at him and nod. “Thank you,” you say softly, almost a whisper. “I really appreciate it.”

Miguel nods back. “Always,” he replies in the same tone, smiling softly. 

The two of you head out of the apartment shortly after, stopping outside the front door so Miguel can add your fingerprint to the system. The process takes only a couple of seconds before you head back to his penthouse where Miguel offers you a coffee as a way to comfort you. You accept, still thinking about your couch while Miguel prepares a special kind of coffee. Café de olla. The two of you sit side by side once it’s ready, drinking it slowly and enjoying the rich scent and flavor. You smile up at him. 

“Thank you for the great coffee. And for dinner, on top of letting me store my couch here,” you say, just thanking him over and over again, making Miguel chuckle quietly. 

He looks down at you, remembering the paint on your face. He gets up without saying anything and retrieves a towel to run under warm water before he returns to you. You watch him with curiosity, wondering what he’s doing. He takes a seat and turns to you. 

“I meant to tell you earlier,” he says, holding the towel. “You have some - paint here,” he says as he slowly lifts the towel to your face, as if unsure of what he's about to do but he ends up going for it. He gently cleans the paint off your face and you chuckle quietly. 

“All this time and you didn’t tell me?” you ask, feigning disbelief. 

Miguel withdraws the towel once the paint is gone. “It wasn’t that noticeable, don’t worry.”

You shake your head at him, smiling. “I don’t believe that but I’ll let it slide because of this amazing coffee.”

Miguel puts the towel down on the counter, amused. He looks at the time and realizes how much later it is. It seems that each time the two of you are together, time flies by. He takes a sip of the coffee, thinking. 

“Are you still going to work on your apartment or are you calling it a day?” he asks, genuinely wanting to know if you’re going to keep working. 

You shrug. “I feel kind of tired - but I think I may work on less strenuous things.”

“Like what?” Miguel asks curiously. 

“I have some new art to hang up and I’m going to choose new photos.”

Miguel nods, making him look around his own place. It’s been the same for years. He’s about to tell you that when Lyla appears. 

“Hello, you two! Smile!” she says, catching the two of you by surprise. 

You look over at Lyla as she displays a photo of you and Miguel, just taken. 

“Lyla,” Miguel says. 

“What? I’m just taking a picture to add to my file.”

That makes you and Miguel raise your eyebrows. 

“File?” you ask. 

“Oh - Uh, did I say file? I’m so tired from work I misspoke,” Lyla says shrugging and laughing nervously. 

“You said file,” Miguel says, narrowing his eyes as he has no knowledge of this file. 

“Okay, so I may have some photos of you guys and like - of the rest of the members.”

“What kind of photos?” Miguel asks.

“Normal photos, Miguel. I’m not a creep.”

“May we see them?” you ask. 

Lyla crosses her arms over her chest, thinking. “Fine, since you asked so nicely and you’re one of my top five favorite spider members. I’ll do a slideshow for you,” Lyla says with a grin before she does exactly that. 

The two of you watch as Lyla starts displaying different photos specifically of you and Miguel with Lyla making appearances sometimes. Some appear to have been taken on rooftops in other universes from when you and Miguel go off to the tallest buildings. Other photos show the two of you talking before meetings with your coffee cups making appearances, too. There’s one from Christmas Eve with the two of you leaning over the windows watching the holographic Christmas light show and another one of Miguel showing you how to design an ornament. The last photos of the slideshow are from the last few days at the infirmary room, which includes a picture of the moment Miguel made a face after he ate the horrible carrot. It makes Lyla giggle but she quickly shuts up when she sees Miguel glaring at her for a few seconds. He notices you covering your mouth as if stifling a laugh. He shakes his head in both amusement and disbelief.

“I can’t believe I ate that,” he says. “You didn’t believe me when I said it was going to be bad.”

“In my defense, I thought it’d be better since it’s Nueva York.”

Miguel scoffs playfully. “Yeah, well… It’s no wonder why the no outside food rule is disregarded, to be honest.”

You chuckle before the two of you return your attention to the slideshow. There’s a photo of the two of you watching one of the movies from last Saturday. Another one of the two of you sleeping which makes you and Miguel raise your eyebrows at Lyla. She shrugs. 

“Accidental photo, my bad. At least I got good angles of you.”

Miguel rolls his eyes remembering how she called him a creep for watching you sleep but here she was, with a photo of the two of you sleeping. 

Then, there are a few photos of when your friends showed up. The rest are from the two days you spent here, like you cooking and Miguel sleeping in the living room. At last, the final one is the one Lyla took just moments ago, though there are a few more that Lyla doesn’t display.

You nod slowly and turn to Miguel, who meets your eyes. You think about it for a few seconds, gaining the courage to ask him. 

“May I have a copy of some of these?” Miguel raises an eyebrow and you quickly explain yourself. “Not the ones of you sleeping or us sleeping but you know - like the one from Christmas Eve or when everyone showed up? I’d love to add a few to my wall, if you don’t  mind.”

Miguel nods, amused. “Yes, of course. Just tell Lyla which ones you want and I’ll get them for you. Let me put this stuff away while you tell her,” he says, motioning to the toppings from dinner. 

You quickly tell Lyla which ones, which leads Miguel to go to his office. He comes back a minute later with a flash drive. He hands it to you. “They’re all there,” he says and you thank him as the two of you return to your seats to finish drinking your coffee. 

“Wait… Are you guys drinking coffee? Miguel, you should probably not drink that considering you’ve been struggling to sleep the last two - three nights,” Lyla says, raising an eyebrow. 

You turn to face him, raising an eyebrow of your own. “You’ve been struggling to sleep?” you ask softly, your tone laced with worry. 

Miguel wants to glare at Lyla, who shrugs but he finds himself unable to as he meets your gaze. “It’s alright. Sometimes it happens,” he says. 

“It wasn’t happening lately until the last three nights,” Lyla adds, gaining herself Miguel’s gaze.

“Lyla,” Miguel warns her gently but with a hint of authority.

“I’m just saying - I don’t think Y/N would mind - if you just ask her,” Lyla says nonchalantly, somehow knowing the current solution to his sleep problems.

“Ask me what?” you ask Miguel curiously. 

“It’s nothing, Y/N. Lyla appears to have a bug, probably from the system failure from last weekend,” he answers but you’re not convinced. 

“If I can help you somehow… Please let me know,” you say but Miguel shakes his head.

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing. I just - It happens sometimes,” Miguel says, trying to convince you it’s nothing so the conversation can be dropped. He’s not about to tell you the truth. He can’t. It’s too much. 

“Miguel - it’s really not that big of a deal. Y/N probably wouldn’t min-” Lyla starts. 

“Lyla, deactivate,” Miguel says evenly, making Lyla disappear instantly. 

You sit there, holding your cup of coffee staring at nothing now. You turn slightly to Miguel, giving him a small but reassuring smile. You can tell he really doesn’t want to talk about it, so you bring the cup of coffee to your lips and drink quietly. Miguel sighs next to you, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I’m sorry you had to see - and hear me - like that,” Miguel says quietly. 

“It’s alright. Don’t worry about it,” you answer, putting your cup down on the counter but still holding it. “Lyla can really push buttons, sometimes.”

“More than sometimes,” Miguel grumbles but now he feels horrible for the way he reacted in front of you. It’s nothing compared to the ways he’s reacted in the past, he knows that but it bothers him that you’ve seen a different side of him now, or at least a glimpse. “I can’t talk about it.”

You nod slowly. “I understand. You don’t have to,” you answer without judgment, though you wish he’d tell you about it, especially if you can help him somehow. 

Neither of you say anything for a minute or two. You continue to drink your coffee silently, trying to give Miguel some time to come back from this moment. Meanwhile, he’s internally fighting with himself. He’s embarrassed to tell you but now there’s also the need to explain it anyway, so you understand why he reacted the way he did towards Lyla. He sighs silently and runs a hand through his hair, wishing Lyla hadn’t said anything. At last, he picks up his own cup of coffee and drinks before he sighs again. He is trying, isn’t he? He said he will. 

“I’ve avoided sleep since Gabriella’s…” Miguel starts, his voice almost a whisper. 

You look up at him and start shaking your head slightly, wanting to tell him that he doesn’t have to explain anything; that he doesn’t have to give any explanations to anyone, not even you but Miguel shakes his head gently, knowing what you want to say. “I should… You said talking about it helps, right?” he asks softly. “On Christmas Eve, you said it helps to talk about it.”

You pause, remembering you said that many months ago while sitting on the same chair. You nod slowly but say nothing. Miguel nods back, meeting your eyes. 

“I’ve avoided sleep since then because of - nightmares,” he continues. “It was easier to not sleep. To keep working. I’ve only been sleeping when my body is extremely exhausted. I take naps,” he reveals, breaking your heart with each word that leaves his lips because that means that he truly doesn’t sleep that much. Then there’s the nightmares part and you can only imagine what they involve if they started after what happened with Gabriella’s universe. You feel your hand itch to reach over and hold his. You want to comfort him for his lack of sleep, for the nightmares, for his vulnerability right now, and for the fact that it seems that he’s trying to sleep these days but hasn’t been able to. You feel incredibly sad as his revelation confirms your suspicions that this past week has been the first time Miguel has slept well in a long time, and it breaks you even more to know it was because of his injuries and not a good reason. You yearn to reach out and comfort him but you hold back, resting your hand on your thigh instead and keeping it there.

“I’ve been living like this since then and - I’ve tried to sleep this week. To recover. It was working but not anymore, even when I want to,” Miguel says so quietly, still holding your gaze. 

You nod, wishing you could do something even if it’s just offering advice but you’ve never been in his shoes. You lost Peter but you didn’t have nightmares about it. You dreamt of him often after his death but they were always pleasant dreams, which have decreased over the years. 

Miguel looks away before he continues. “Something has been helping me recently.”

You clear your throat softly. “What is it? We can get it so you can rest properly, Miguel,” you offer, noticing Miguel’s fist clenched softly. 

“I don’t know how to say this.”

You sit still, not sure if you should encourage him or just remain quiet and give him time to speak. You want to respect his boundaries. You want to give him space. Yet, you also want him to sleep well, especially now that he’s admitted that he’s trying and no longer avoiding sleeping. It makes you wonder again if last weekend’s event has impacted him more than you thought. 

“Your breathing,” Miguel mutters at last, almost making you miss it. You keep still, trying not to show your surprise once his words register. “The sound of your breathing when you sleep - and your scent. It’s been helping me sleep,” Miguel quietly admits at last with a tone that lets you know he’s ashamed of it. 

You sit there for about a second or two, not thinking about it for too long because you don’t want your silence to be mistaken as a negative reaction, so you smile and look at him, searching his face. There’s a slight tint to his cheeks and he’s avoiding your gaze. 

“Well, then… I’m sure with the gizmo Lyla can record my breathing when I sleep, right?” you ask gently. “Tonight, we can do a live feed and record it in the process,” you offer, making Miguel turn his head to you in surprise. Here you are, offering to have your sleep be recorded so he can use it and sleep himself. 

“Y/N… No, that’s too much. I’m just trying to explain this mess Lyla made,” he says quietly. 

“It’s not too much, Miguel. If it’s going to help you sleep, it’s not. I don’t mind,” you answer and give him a reassuring smile. “And my scent,” you pause, thinking. “Do you think a sweatshirt would help? I wear one to sleep all the time because I get cold during the night. I can give you one each week so it’s fresh. We can rotate,” you offer, thinking about it and nodding to yourself as this seems the best course of action. “I’ll bring you the one I’ve been using the last couple of nights.”

Miguel shakes his head. “I don’t want you to feel-”

“I don’t,” you counter. “I want to help. I want you to sleep well, and if this helps, let’s do it. I don’t mind. If it works, you’ll let me know by accepting the new sweatshirt each week. No words need to be exchanged. If it stops working, you’ll let me know by declining the sweatshirt. We’ll find another method then, okay?” you ask softly. 

Seeing the tender look on your face and hearing your reassuring words, Miguel nods slowly. “Thank you,” he hesitantly answers, feeling embarrassed. 

You smile at him kindly. “Always.”

He gives you a soft, almost shy smile and you know this is too much for the founder and commander of the Spider Society, so you try to ease the situation for him to make him feel comfortable again. 

“This coffee is really good,” you say as your attempt to lighten up the mood. You want to bring back the carefree Miguel from earlier. 

Miguel hums. “It’s even better with a piece of pan dulce,” he says looking at his own coffee. “Gabriel and I used to make this kind of coffee on Saturdays when we had more time,” he shares. Sometimes they took turns making it and they’d always bring a cup to each other wherever they were in the penthouse. Even when Gabriel moved to his own floor, the tradition carried on. Miguel can’t help himself from thinking that Gabriel is probably happy he’s made some again, which happens to be on a Saturday. He can almost hear him telling him to make it a thing again, even if Gabriel isn’t here anymore. He looks over at you suddenly, his embarrassment subsiding now thanks to your change of conversation, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Miguel. He’s noticed the way you always try to make hard situations for him better and he appreciates it. So much. It encourages him even more to embrace this new journey. “If you’re not too busy next Saturday, I could make more and buy pan dulce.”

You nod slowly, smiling. “That sounds great.” You pause, thinking. “And since you cooked today, I can cook something then. I promise my living room will look presentable again.”

Miguel hides it well but he’s surprised at the subtle invitation for dinner. He nods slowly and chuckles. “Very well. And I’m sure it will.” 

You nod and smile before you look at the time, wondering where the time has gone, sharing Miguel’s feeling from earlier. Time flies when you’re in each other’s presence. You finish your coffee and motion to the kitchen as it still needs to be cleaned.

“Do you want help picking up your kitchen?” you ask but Miguel quickly shakes his head. 

“I can take care of it but thank you though,” he responds softly. 

“Well, I should probably head home now. It’s getting pretty late and you still need rest. Your wounds doing good?” you ask as you get up at last.

“Yes. The smaller ones are closed up. It’s just the trident wound now,” Miguel answers standing up, too, as his hand brushes past the hem of his shirt since he’s wearing normal clothes today. He wants to show you the progress but he’s not sure about randomly pulling up his shirt to show you. He ends up doing it anyway, deciding that you’ve seen him in far less appropriate ways since he’s certain that you unfortunately caught glimpses of certain parts of his body when you helped him get dressed. The two of you tried your best but only so much could be covered at some points, which makes Miguel’s face feel suddenly hot but he ignores it as he shows you. 

Your eyes fall on his tan and bare skin. There’s hardly any sign of injuries, except for the trident wound, which is still in the process of healing. You nod, satisfied that he’s almost fully recovered before looking up at him, not wanting to stare for too long at his well defined body. 

“I’m happy to see that you’re recovering well. I’m sure the trident wound will heal completely in a few days.” 

“I think so, too,” Miguel says, letting go of his shirt. “I also want to thank you for helping me with my injuries. I know it was probably - Some people don’t do well seeing injuries like that. Yet, I still asked you even with a medical team available,” he says with a sigh. “It really meant a lot to me as you know that I can’t… You know,” he says softly, referring to his boundary regarding physical touch. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

You shake your head. “I wanted to help you, Miguel. I wasn’t ‘putting up’ with you. My only worry was I wasn’t going to do it properly and I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

Miguel chuckles quietly. “I felt no pain with you and I’m certain my less serious injuries are fully healed because of you. So, thank you, again, for everything, Y/N.”

And when he emphasizes “everything” once again, Miguel now includes his sleeping situation and the fact that you’ve unselfishly offered to help him again. 

You smile brightly at him. “Always… So, let me get you the sweatshirt,” you say as you start clicking on your gizmo. 

“I’ll go with you, if that’s okay. That way you can stay home already and not make multiple trips. It’s the least I can do,” Miguel says quietly and you nod slowly. 

“Just ignore the mess,” you chuckle and Miguel raises an eyebrow, playfully. 

“Even your mess is organized,” he comments, which makes you laugh as you pick up the flash drive from earlier, making sure to hold on to it. 

You head to the living room with Miguel behind, remembering that the multidimensional portals make nearby objects float so you want to avoid the kitchen. You open the portal and motion to Miguel to follow you. You step into your living room and quickly go to turn on a light since you forgot to leave one on before you left. 

You place the flash drive next to your laptop, telling Miguel to give you a second before entering your bedroom to retrieve the sweatshirt. Miguel looks around your apartment while he waits, feeling embarrassed that he’s actually doing this. He tries to let it go and focuses on the current state of your living room instead, noticing the new bookcase you have yet to put together and a few other boxes he didn’t notice earlier. He thinks of something just as you step out of your bedroom holding a sweatshirt with a smile. 

“Here we go. Next Saturday, we exchange,” you say, still smiling as he hesitantly accepts it. 

Miguel holds it gently, feeling the softness of the fabric. He nods while looking down at you. “Thank you. Next Saturday then…” he says and you nod. 

“Next Saturday after dinner.”

“Alright, sounds good,” Miguel quietly responds. “I’ll go ahead and head out. You must be tired from working on your apartment all day. Rest well.”

“You, too. I’ll tell Lyla about-” you start. 

“Don’t worry, I got it under cover,” Lyla says, appearing suddenly, surprising you because she’s supposed to be deactivated. A thought Miguel voices out loud. “I have my ways of coming back,” she replies with a shrug. 

You shake your head in amusement. “Alright. Well, it seems like Lyla knows what to do. Good night, Miguel,” you say softly. 

“Good night, Y/N,” Miguel answers. He looks at Lyla and gives her a warning look. “Behave Lyla.”

“I always do,” she responds, which earns her a scoff. 

Miguel gives you a soft smile and a nod as he’s about to enter the portal to head home but he stops. Still holding your sweatshirt, he turns sideways.

“Before I head home… Would you like some help?” 

You slightly raise an eyebrow. “Help?”

Miguel nods and motions to your living room. “You know - With your apartment.”

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, thinking. You spent the majority of your mourning journey on your own and thought it’d end the same way. You had every intention of doing this on your own, too. You thought you needed to. And yet, as you look at Miguel, you realize that just because you started this transition in your life alone, doesn’t mean you must end it the same way. 

You smile. “How do you feel about putting a bookcase together?”

Miguel looks over at the bookcase’s box before he returns his gaze to you, smiling softly. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

You chuckle and you’re about to tell him you were joking about the bookcase and that you’d appreciate help hanging up new wall decorations but before you can speak, Miguel beats you to it. “I can drop by tomorrow. Just let me know what time would be best for you,” he says, sincerely. 

You nod slowly. “Midday? Lunch on me,” you say softly and Miguel nods. 

“Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow then… Goodnight,” he says. 

“Goodnight! Thank you, by the way.”

“Always,” Miguel replies. With one last nod and a small smile, he heads out holding your sweatshirt in his hand. 

You stand there and watch the floating objects fall to the ground as the portal closes after him.

Before you jump in the shower, you quickly set the photos from the flash drive to print since you have the supplies. Thirty minutes later you’re placing all the photos you’ll be using in the now dry picture frames. You hang them on your wall and try different variations for a few minutes. You take a step back at last, happy with the last variation. There are now other pictures of Peter, some of which were some of the last photos you took of him like the one where he’s showing off his “Spider-Woman’s #1 Fan” t-shirt. It was one of the last things he bought before he passed away.

The rest of the photos are of your new friends. You spot the one Pav took of the time Hobie, Pav, and you went to get ice cream at Hobie’s universe, which was quite the experience. Then there’s one where everyone went to Gwen’s universe to eat bagels from her favorite bagel place among others that even includes the Morales family. Your gaze shifts to the ones of Miguel and you.

You asked for the pictures from Christmas Eve, a few from the two of you on rooftops, and the one from today before they land on the last one. You didn’t ask for it but it was in the flash drive. You smile as your eyes scan the photo of Miguel making a face after eating the steamed carrot while you stand next to him, watching him. You were surprised to see it in the pile of printed photos when you got out of the shower and wondered if it was a mistake but then you thought about it and realized Miguel wouldn’t make a simple mistake like that. Right? 

And the truth is no, it wasn’t a mistake. Miguel added it because he saw you found it amusing. So now it’s on your wall, next to a picture of Peter and you. You yawn softly and smile before you turn around to look at your apartment. There’s the empty spot from your old couch ready to be filled with the new one and even though you have the urge to clean the area and go ahead and place it, you decide to leave it for tomorrow.

You do your night routine, put your gizmo back on so Lyla can do her thing, and get in bed, falling asleep almost immediately. 

Back in Nueva York, Miguel lays on his bed a little while after cleaning the kitchen. He stares at the ceiling, thinking. Your sweatshirt is on the other side of the bed, over the pillows. A few minutes later, Lyla appears and tells him she’s about to play the live feed from your gizmo. He sighs in disbelief when she disappears, unable to believe this is happening but his thoughts stop when he hears your slow and even breathing. He closes his eyes, feeling the effect almost immediately. He hesitantly reaches for your sweatshirt and pulls it closer, letting your scent surround him. 

It’s only a matter of minutes before Miguel falls asleep to the sound of your live breathing and scent. He falls into a deep slumber, unknowingly seeking to be closer to your sweatshirt in his sleep. He fulfills his quest by pressing the soft fabric to his face. 

_________________

*Translation for italicized Spanish words:* Really love getting to include more Mexican/Latin details ❤️

-Ternura - endearing, tenderness; I've been thinking about this for such a long time because of Miguel lol I can't think of another word in English that has the same feeling "ternura" does. I don't know if it's just me or if other Spanish-speakers can relate

-"Trataré. Te lo juro." - "I will try. I swear."

-Flautas - literally translates to "flute" haha but it's a deep fried tortilla with filling and topped with different toppings.

-Agua de jamaica - Hibiscus tea (I drink this every day lol)

-Agua Fresca - translates to "fresh water"; there are different flavors like horchata water

-Canelita - cinnamon tea

-Mierda - shit

-Burritos de Tinga - translates to "Tinga burritos"; Latin dish made out of meat (pork, chicken) in sauce with onions, chiles chipotle and tomatoes. Can be eaten on tostadas or in burritos (my experience)

-Dia de los Muertos - Day of the Dead

-Café de olla - coffee made in a pot

-Pan Dulce - sweet bread (it's that time of the year, iykyk)

________________

Hi, guys! First, I hope you enjoyed this new update! Second, I want to apologize for updating almost a month later. I'm so sorry! This part took me a while to write and there were some sections I wasn't initially happy with, so I took extra time to work on them. Then, I got sick lol I was hoping to update sooner but that kind of threw off my plans. I was even hoping to do a Halloween special for the story (short drabble) but life happens.

I'm actually thinking about doing a Thanksgiving one now. I know not everyone celebrates but I don't know, it would be kind of cute and just a short drabble connected to the storyline, not an official part if that makes sense. Just something to read on Thanksgiving related to Miguel x reader and the other spider members! ☺️ if you're interested in getting tagged for that (if all goes well and I actually get to write it), please let me know. Or, you can always just look for it on my masterlist, of course!

Also, I wanted to say a huge THANK YOU for all the support part 9 received!!! Like, for real, thank you SO MUCH!! I think it's the part that's had the most support right after I posted it (besides part 1) regarding reblogs, comments, and asks. It meant a lot to me as several days went into that part specifically because of how long it was, so I really appreciate it and I'm just really happy that so many of you enjoyed it. ❤️🥹

I think that's all I have to say! Thank you again for the amazing support and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I hope you're all having a wonderful start to November, which just makes me wonder where did this year went?! I swear it was just February and now we're here lol but anyway, have a great start to November and take care of yourselves!!

P.S. Please check out the amazing fanart that has been created for Nonviolent Communication! It can be found in my masterlist! Thank you to the amazing talented artists for your support, it means so, so much to me!!! ❤️

-Alondra

__________

Tag list:

@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

#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

[jujutsubaby]

🍒 only fans boyfriend!toji headcanons 🍒

☆ pairing: toji fushiguro x afab!reader ☆ summary: blurb in which toji is your bf who helps you take your photos and videos for your onlyfans ☆ warnings: 18+ !! MINORS DNI !! dirty talking, nudes, sex work, penetrative sex, idk what else lol ☆ a/n: i'm having some serious toji brain rot send help

bf!toji who first thinks of the idea of you doing an only fans after taking his millionth video of him pounding into you. he won’t lie, initially it was because he was tight on some cash and didn’t wanna borrow from you again, but he was convinced you could be some insane OF celebrity. “i’m not sure about it, toji. i don’t want randos to see my face…” you surmise. “c’mon, we’ll cover your face, doll, if that’s what you’re worried about. i swear, we could be raking in thousands from this.” the prospect of coming across a large amount of money like that was enticing…

bf!toji who suggests that you start out simple. “maybe just a shot of you wearing somethin’ cute for the camera, i dunno.” after work one day, you both go to a lingerie store and pick out a sheer pink babydoll slip on, with silky bows on the shoulders. at home, you fish out an old mid 2000s digital camera from the garage and present it to toji. “you’re gonna be my sexy photographer, right?” you tease, as you change into the babydoll slip dress. 

bf!toji who totally sucks at taking photos at first, but is a quick learner as he learns all your best angles and poses. turns out when money is on the line, he’s a hard worker after all. pictures of you sluttily sticking out your tongue, and the dress straps falling off your shoulders send toji into a frenzy, and you both take a quick sex break before going back to taking the photos.

bf!toji doesn’t know how to edit photos for shit so you use the minimal photoshop you know to spruce up your makeshift boudoir shoot. not to toot your own horn, but you kinda ate those pics up, and toji can’t get enough of it. at work, he’s partially distracted, fighting off enemies with half a brain as the other half is trying not to get turned on (one time, he did get turned on while fighting and it was awkward to say the least. the guy’s dead now so toji doesn’t really care). 

bf!toji who creates the OF account for you because you’re feeling too shy to do so. the interface is confusing for both of you at first, but you guys get the hang of it pretty easily. you post the boudoir photoshoot and immediately close the laptop because you’re terrified of it flopping. “the damage of no one subscribing to me, toji, i would die,” you say earnestly, feeling nauseous. “if no one subscribes to you, i’ll fuck the memory out of you, don’t worry,” he says nonchalantly as he picks a random show on netflix to watch. he’s not bothered by this even one bit and you think it’s because he doesn’t care but really, it’s because he’s that confident.

bf!toji who wakes up before you the next morning for work and quickly checks to see if your photos gained any traction. “holy shit, doll, wake up!” he practically pushes you off the bed as he shakes you and you groggily wake up, irked at the intrusion of your slumber. “toji, i swear to god i’ll kill y-” “you just got 300 subscribers overnight, shut up.” he says, cutting you off and meeting your lips with a tender kiss. you quickly pull back, eyes widening at the news. 

bf!toji who reassures you that you’re only gonna blow up more, and that’s why you need to post more photos and videos. it starts off small: simple photoshoots and more slutty lingerie. you arch your back as toji gets an ass shot with your camera. he slaps it hard, leaving a red handprint mark and snaps a couple more photos. 

bf!toji who encourages you to start doing videos after reaching over 1k subscribers. you do a little strip tease/dance while toji films, but the first time you do it, toji folds almost immediately and has you pinned under him. you try again the next day, and graduate to longer more explicit videos – fingering yourself, using toys, and live streaming. toji buys you a couple cute masquerade masks to use, too. 

bf!toji who loves it when you get donations during streams. he ends up creating an amazon wishlist for you of things you guys could really use around the house. he can’t remember the last time he bought you lingerie anymore because your donations would usually cover that cost. that being said, he always chooses lingerie for you. he knows exactly what other horny guys are looking for on girls. “doll, i know crotchless panties are awful but i know the male gaze – they don’t give a fuck. look, okay, i’ll buy you that one piece too, don’t give me that look.” he says to you as you throw in a bunch of lingerie of your liking in the cart. 

bf!toji who finally decides to join you in front of the camera, giving your fans what they wanted. the way he sees it, he fucks you senseless for free every night anyway, might as well get paid for it. toji makes a show to tear your nice lingerie off you and leaves visible marks in your skin from his touch as he pounds into you or bites your neck. 

bf!toji who joins you on your livestreams, and they usually end with you bent over a desk, skirt hiked up, and his arousal deep inside you. “you guys think she deserves to cum?” he asks the chat, feeling you clench against him. he knows you're close, and it turns you on knowing it’s out of your control on whether or not you get to feel a release. your fans love your pornographic and lewd moans, but with toji fucking you, you don’t even have to act for them to come out of your mouth naturally. speaking of your mouth, toji especially loves when you have a masquerade mask on while he makes your little throat gag. you love it when he tests your gag reflex on camera in front of an audience, and everyone can tell when they see you soaked through your panties.

bf!toji who surprises you by taking you on a lavish vacation to bora bora when you reach over 10k subscribers. “we built this shit together,” he says, talking about your OF fame and money. you can’t remember the last time you guys worried about paying rent, and he wanted to do something special for his slutty little doll. he got one of those seaside huts surrounded by a private deck. your breath is taken away by the surprise, and toji wastes no time getting all your clothes off and getting you into the water. the makeout session turns into him fingering you underwater as he pushes your bikini to the side. after coming all over his fingers, you give him a handjob under the water, and toji has to quickly climb out of the pool so he doesn’t cum inside it and has to request a clean up on the very first day. 

bf!toji who fucks you more times than you can count in the water, on the bed, in the infinity pool, that one time super discretely under the blanket in the beach. you bring up the idea of filming a little here and there on vacation. “what? the grind never stops,” you say jokingly as you set up the camera on the tripod in front of the bed. he surprises you by using some silk ribbons to tie your hands back while he licks and kisses every inch of your body, focusing especially on your sensitive nipples erect for the camera. he blindfolds you, hands still tied back while he eats you out. the electrifying sensations are amplified in the darkness of the blindfold, and you make an absolute mess on the sheets and his mouth. 

bf!toji who uses the last night of your trip there to convince you to film one more video, this time on the private infinity pool outside your hut. you come out with a black strappy bikini with a sheer babydoll cover up. “don’t take off your clothes just yet, doll. just come in the water.” he commands, and you slowly get into the water. his silhouette looks ethereal in the golden hour of the sunset as you approach him. he cradles your jaw and kisses you deeply and passionately.  

bf!toji pulls away from you and guides you to the edge of the pool that stares out to the pink sunset and the turquoise ocean. “what? gonna fuck me while looking at the sunset like a stupid romantic?” you jeer, poking his chest. he chuckles nervously. “eventually…”

bf!toji who pulls a small black box from behind him and opens it to reveal a big shiny diamond ring. tears start freely falling down your cheeks and you don’t even hear what toji is saying (you feel a little bad – he must’ve prepped this speech for a while but you were far too emotional to process anything). all you do is nod your head vigorously as he gently puts the ring on finger. a perfect fit. and it glistens just perfectly in the dimming sun.

fiance!toji who then fucks you into the sunset like a stupid romantic.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji zenin #zenin toji #toji zenin x reader #toji zenin smut #toji zenin x you #dilf toji #jjk toji

[swanimagines]

WALLS | KAZ BREKKER

Summary: Kaz has been closed off in your relationship from the very start, and you trying to talk about it makes him shut off. But there's always the next day.

You and Kaz had been dating for a while - you thought you knew what you signed up for when you asked Kaz if he’d like to be your boyfriend and he warned you about not being able to be a boyfriend you see on the streets. But even after months, he was still just as closed off as he was when you started dating, and you decided to take it up on the table.

“Kaz?”

He glanced up to you briefly from the table, still writing his notes to his plans. “Hm?”

You swallowed, trying to figure out the words. “I… um, I feel like our relationship is one-sided.”

Kaz paused for a moment, slowly lifting his eyes to you and narrowing his eyes slightly. “What do you mean, one-sided?”

“I mean,” you started, thinking over your words again. “I feel like I’ve been opening up to you, I’ve shared my thoughts with you, my feelings, but you haven’t. I… I know it’s hard for you, I do, but it still feels like there’s a… wall in between us?”

Kaz took in a deep breath, his eyes going back on the blueprint. "You knew what I was like before we got together," he then said. "I never promised you a fairytale romance."

"I know, and I accepted that," you replied, trying to keep frustration off your voice. "But that doesn't mean I don’t have needs in this relationship too. I can't keep pouring my heart out while you keep most of yourself locked away. It's exhausting."

Kaz let out a sigh, his shoulders tensing up. "I’ve let you see a side of myself most people will never see. You said it will be enough. What else would you want from me?"

You sighed. “To let me get closer to you. For you to trust me enough to let me see beyond that wall of yours. I want to be there for you, but I can’t do that unless you let me close.”

Kaz took in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. “I can’t change overnight just because you demand it.”

“I’m not asking you to–”

Kaz interrupted you. “This is who I am and if you can’t bear that, then maybe we shouldn’t be together.”

Your eyes widened at that, and you quickly shook your head. “No, Kaz, don’t say that.”

“You’re just a distraction I won’t be able to have right now,” Kaz retorted, tracing his finger along the blueprint.

You fell silent for a moment, his words echoing in your ears.

Distraction.

“Distraction? Is that all that I am to you?” you whispered, swallowing.

Kaz’s jaw clenched. “That’s not what I said.”

“Well, it sure sounded like that,” you murmured, your voice breaking slightly. The next words poured out through your lips before you had time to think them over. “Maybe it’s time that you stop pretending you care about anything else than yourself and your damn heists.”

Kaz’s eyes snapped up to you, and he scoffed. “You think you understand me? You have no idea what I’ve gone through to get into this position.”

You shook your head, your hand slightly inching towards Kaz’s, but he pulled his hand away. You closed your eyes for a moment, retreating your hand too. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that, but… I’m trying to understand, Kaz, but I can’t understand if you won’t let me in.”

He huffed. “Letting people in only leads to betrayal and disappointment, I learned that long ago.”

You stared at him, and then slowly stood up, the chair legs scraping against the wooden floor. “You think I’ll disappoint you?”

"You're naive if you think this could ever work," Kaz said, clenching his hands to fists, the leather creaking from the pressure. "I don't have time for distractions, and you'll only end up getting hurt."

That was it. Your tears started spilling, and you looked up at the roof before you willed yourself to look at Kaz again, who had lowered his gaze back to the blueprint. You scoffed at how he didn’t even look at you.

"Fine," you choked out. "If that's how you feel, then maybe you're right. Maybe I am just a distraction to you, and maybe we shouldn’t be together."

Kaz lifted his gaze again but you had already turned your back to him, marching towards his office door. He tried to force himself to call after you, but instead, he just stared as you slammed the door closed.

The sound of the door slamming echoed around his office, and he let out a silent groan, listening to your fading footsteps going down the stairs. You’d probably stay the night at someone else’s room at the Slat, you had looked way too angry to sleep next to his bed tonight.

Sure enough, when Kaz made his way to the Slat some hours later, you were nowhere to be seen in your shared room at the attic. He stood there for a moment, before shedding off his coat and started preparing for the bed, soon finding himself under his black sheets. He glanced towards your bed, as if to hope you’d magically appear there, but as you hadn’t, he turned off the oil lamp and turned to his side, closing his eyes.

—

Horse hooves on the stoned street made Kaz stir awake, the dim sunlight through the thick clouds lighting up his room. He opened his eyes and turned - and saw you sleeping in your bed. Your back was towards him, he had no idea if you were awake or still asleep, and Kaz knew he’d rather not find out whether you were still as angry as yesterday. He knew he should talk to you once you’d wake up, and he should also get up from the bed - but his Dirtyhands side was strongly against it.

Dirtyhands did not apologise.

But in this case, maybe Kaz Brekker should let Kaz Rietveld in with you.

With a sigh, he stood up and went to his wardrobe, changing off his pyjamas. He was buttoning up his waistcoat when he heard you groan and stir, the sheets rustling as you brought your hand up to rub your eyes.

Kaz turned to look at you, but you hadn’t yet noticed him standing there. He debated whether he should speak up or wait until you were fully awake, but then you sat up as you yawned. Your eyes finally met his, and you froze.

The room turned quiet for a moment, the weight of tension filling the room. Both of you just stared at each other, things said the previous day weighing down on you - both of you being unsure if you meant what you said to each other.

Kaz took in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “I shouldn’t have said those things, I should have listened to you. It was wrong of me to dismiss your feelings like that.”

You frowned and brought your hands in front of you. “You’re apologising?”

Kaz nodded slowly. “I am. I… I believe I didn’t think a relationship should be a two-way road. I like hearing you tell me about your day, how I make you feel, how happy I made you on your birthday - I didn’t think I should return it.”

You stared at him for a moment longer. “I want to be there for you, Kaz. But it’s been difficult when you’re pushing me away - and yesterday proved the reason why I hadn’t talked about it before, you immediately made your walls rise up when I tried to talk with you.”

Kaz stepped closer to the bed, hesitating for a moment but then grazing your arm with the tips of his fingers. “You’ve never been a distraction, nor you are a burden.”

You nodded, smiling softly at him before you carefully linked your pinky with his. “Apology accepted. I love you.”

Kaz froze. It was the first time you said it - you love him. He took in a shaky breath, and you blinked, shaking your head. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean to overwhelm–”

“I love you too,” he forced himself to get out, and it felt like something heavy pressing down his heart was just lifted when now you, in turn, froze. Then, a wide smile emerged to your face, and Kaz’s smile mirrored it a few seconds after.

For that morning, you sat there together like two lovesick teenagers you were - and the gloomy city of Ketterdam felt sunnier than ever.

---

Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone #sab #sab x reader #sab imagine #six of crows imagine #six of crows fanfic #six of crows #grishaverse #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse imagine #reader insert #gn reader #my works

[helluvapoison]

Hi! I feel a little awkward bc I’ve never asked anonymously but I really wanted to ask this but wasn’t comfortable enough to ask regularly, but I really enjoy your hazbin works and the hyperfixation has been gripping me HARD and I wanted to see what you’d think of a Lucifer x Reader where they have a sort of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts vibes, where Reader is his personal assistant and what your thought on that are?

~✨

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

i put my thoughts at the bottom :3c

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• As his colleague, Lucifer is rather frustrating. He hired you as his personal assistant but won’t let you assist

• In the beginning, the most he’ll ask of you is if you know where something is. The answer is usually in his hand or line of sight. Without making him feel dumb, you simply retrieve it for him

• It doesn’t go unnoticed by Lucifer either. He praises you often and in the form of a soft, “What would I do without you?”

• “I’m sure I don’t want to find out, Mr Morningstar.”

• Maybe it takes a minute for the initial “I’m working for the King of Hell” shock to wear off and when it does you realize it was clouding your judgment. Lucifer truly does require your help but he’s incapable of asking for what he needs; it’s up to you to step in and make necessary decisions on his behalf

• That’s what he’s paying you for, right?

• You tell him exactly what’s going to happen before you do it so he’s not caught off guard. He still is. Baffled, really, that you got so ballsy overnight

• Let the banter and boundary pushing begin. Nothing major! You just keep to your word, continuing your courageous streak

• Plucking all the sticky notes off the wall and collecting the ones that were so old they dropped to the floor, you spend an entire day sorting through them. You give his schedule a must needed update and sync it to both your phones so either of you could make changes and be alerted to it

“Why do I need your play-by-play?” He asks teasingly

“So you don’t call me at 4am because you forget I’m not here. Y’know, like last time.”

• Oh yeah, personal space and boundaries cease to exist between you. He’ll sit right next to you, or pull your chair closer to his. When he’s bored, he’ll sit right on your desk

• When he brings you to meetings, which is always because you’re supposed to be focusing on his behalf, he leans in and makes jokes that have you pressing your lips together to be quiet

• “I need to take notes,”

• “And you’re doing great, now jot down how Asmodeus’ shirt is on backwards,” He snickers

• Texting outside your shifts is a regular occurrence. Messages sent back and forth until it’s beyond sleeping hours and you tell him to go to bed

• “See you in 3 hours.” He texts back like he’s counting down (he is)

• Miraculously, you covered all corners of his (rather empty) mansion. Nothing was off limits to you except Charlie’s old room. You made sure dishes left his room or office and made it to the kitchen, checks for the house staff went out on time, supplies were stocked, etc.

• You take paperwork off his desk, screen and divert miscellaneous calls to your phone instead of his, overall taking unnecessary weight from his shoulders. You go as far as to pencil in mealtimes. It’s appreciated even though he’d still forget if you weren’t around

• “I’m beginning to suspect you’re underpaid,” Lucifer partially jokes

• You’re really, really not

• Sure, he spouts his stream of consciousness and it’s up for you to decipher what’s important and what’s just him sharing random details. Yes, he has you sit on his chair while he gestures wildly and explains the mechanics of something you don’t understand just because he’s excited about it. And yes, maybe, you spend too much time in his house than your own

• But you’re disgustingly overcompensated. You thought he made a mistake when you saw your paycheck. If not by actual money, Lucifer spoils you rotten in ways he definitely shouldn’t and doesn’t for his other employees

• “You deserve it for putting up with me,” His voice is laced with more adoration than acceptable, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

• You haven’t been doing it for the money in a long time

• The two of you have been teetering over the line of professional and inappropriate, praying, begging really, to fall on the side of the latter

• You almost kill him when you say you want to quit. Lucifer’s ready to offer you Hell on a golden platter if you’ll stay

• “It’s not about the money. I-I can’t do this anymore, I feel like a gold digger and I hate it! I don’t want to be your assistant, I want more and I–”

• Lucifer heard more and is struck with the overwhelming urge to kiss you

• “How much more?” He asks instead, voice cracking in anticipation, “If it’s in my power, it’s yours for the taking.”

• “Mr Morning—“

• “You want more? I can give you more. I can give you everything, anything, just tell me what you want. I know I’m a mess but I can be better! I can— I can,” Lucifer scrambles to find something, his wild eyes searching the air between you for anything you haven’t already done for him. He sighs, “I can be better, I promise…”

• “Because I want more too. I want to take you on cheesy dates, I want to have you beside me everywhere I go, I want all of Hell to know you’re mine. I want you to come here and stay here because you want to!” He wheezes and tugs at his collar, “And now I feel like want isn’t a word anymore because I’ve been saying it too much— do you ever do that? You say it over and over again and it starts to.. to…”

• He stares at your hand, placed softly over his to stop him from clutching at his clothes. Oh fuck, he can’t breathe

• “You’re really working for that pride title, aren’t you?” You tease softly, smoothing out the wrinkles in his vest before stealing his other hand, “Tell me more about what you want, Mr—“

• “Lucifer,” He all but begs

• “Lucifer,” You hum and he shivers, “What else?”

• “Don’t leave me,” He breathes, “I’ll be better.”

• “You’re already enough.”

• Painfully aware of how close the two of you have become, Lucifer struggles to keep your eyes locked with his. Your lips look so enticing, they always have

• His voice is quiet, almost broken, when he says, “I—I need you to say it.”

• “I won’t leave you. I’m still quitting though,” You smile, hovering over his lips, “So you’ll have to find a different way to compensate me.”

• “Pfft. Easy peasy,”

• He says nonchalantly as if he hasn’t tripped over nothing imagining your lips on his before. It’s nothing compared to the real thing

• Once again, you’re overcompensated

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ hello hi ✨! you’re getting a kith, c’mere. I absolutely see the vibes you’re going for and I am here for it!

i think tony and pepper are hilarious and adorable but i recognise it isn’t the healthiest of relationships out there. i know that’s not what you were implying at all though! the flirting, the bizarre requests, the shameless spending, the nonstop talking, the nonexistent boundaries, the devotion– yes, i see it i see it i see it!

i don’t think lucifer would raise his voice (not to you, anyways) you could get away with actual murder and that’s before he realizes his feelings for you. he can get rid of a body easily

lucifer may (like tony) forget the day of important dates but when he realizes, he makes up for it completely! he feels awful about it

if you look at something for 3 seconds too long, he’s buying it. if you show him something, he’s buying it. if he thinks you want it, he’s buying it

(like pepper) you definitely do put up with a lot of similar antics behind them though are good intentions and lucifer’s better at accepting fault. so if they genuinely upset you, he’ll find a way to mend it... usually it goes over the top

there’s really nothing lucifer wouldn’t do for you, it just takes some reminding that you’d do the same for him

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar headcanon #lucifer morningstar imagine #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #ask stuff #ask me anything

[morallyinept]

Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 6

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 6.7k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Frankie and Jude tentatively start getting to know one another.

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 5

Day 4 on the island…

“Come on you piece a’ shit...” Frankie’s putting the battery back into the iPhone just as the sun is coming up.

"¡Trabaja, maldita sea, vamos!" (Work, damn you, come on!) With trembling fingers, his heart pounds in anticipation echoing inside the canal of his ears.

The inside of the phone seems dry enough and he sweeps away some wayward sand that’s blown into it overnight with his thumbs. 

He stands up and takes a deep breath, pressing the power button on. He sighs out when nothing happens and tries again. 

He presses harder, as if the depth of his grip will affect the phone somehow, and the screen lights up. 

“Yes!” He praises through gritted teeth and laughs out jubilantly through a crackled squaw. 

The iPhone powers on and the battery status bar is down to nineteen percent. The home lock screen is presented to him with the faces of two children smiling toothily into the camera with freckles and red curls, and for a second it quells his relief. 

A sickly feeling washes over Frankie, a wave of disappointment crashing against the shores of his hope. It’s as if the weight of their predicament bears down on him with renewed intensity, suffocating him with its crushing reality. And of course, he won’t know the unlock code. 

He tries a few obvious combinations, including his own that he’d set on his own phone, but it doesn’t unlock. 

He notices the signal bar and it’s out of service. He holds the phone up above his head, squinting in the sunlight to see if it changes, and it doesn’t. 

As he turns in the sand, this way and that, he clocks the ridge and decides that getting to higher ground might be beneficial. 

Around twenty minutes or so later, he’s on the top of the ridge, red-faced and sweating profusely, holding the phone up again above his head. 

“Por favor, vamos. No hagas esto, trabaja!" (Please, come on. Don’t do this to me, work!) He growls at it as he moves about and steps closer to the ledge and then back again, waving his arm around like a helicopter blade trying to pick up any signal. “No te rindas ahora, bastarda…” (Don’t give up now, you bastard…)

A sense of helplessness shreds at Frankie’s already tattered insides, twisting his stomach into knots as he grapples with the harsh truth that he’s trying desperately to shut out.

The sickly feeling lingers, a heavy weight in the pit of his empty stomach, as he struggles to come to terms with the futility of the situation.

Frankie gives up when his arm starts to ache and dials a number anyway on the emergency keypad; he dials Benny’s number, as that’s the only number he knows off by heart. 

Anguish gnaws at Frankie's insides, a bitter taste of despair lingering on his tongue. In his mind's eye, Frankie pictures Benny’s warm smile, the easy laughter that always seemed to lighten the mood. He imagined the conversation they would have - the jokes they would share, the stories they would reminisce about, the camaraderie that once transcended distance and time and could stand the test of anything.

Until Frankie smashed it all to smithereens.

He plays the conversation out his head.

"Hey, Benny! You won't believe where I fuckin’ am right now!"

And in his imagination, Benny's voice echoes back - a reassuring presence in the darkness of his swamping isolation.

"Fish, buddy, where the fuck are you, man?"

The call doesn’t connect and the iPhone flashes up with the no signal icon again. 

“Mierda!” (Shit!) Frankie mutters in Spanish profanity and switches the phone back off. 

A myriad of emotions flood Frankie's senses - a mixture of disappointment, frustration, and a profound sense of helplessness that makes his fingers twitch and tap at his side.

He closes his eyes, taking in deep breaths, trying to ignore the feeling that is seeping in like an old friend; a shadow that constantly lurks in the corners of his mind, waiting to ensnare him in its web once more.

He feels the familiar tug of temptation - a biting hunger that claws at his insides, demanding to be sated. It’s as if the very air around him is infused with the scent of his former vice, a potent reminder of the demons he’s struggled to leave behind.

And Frankie feels the crushing weight of them threatening to suffocate him beneath their constricting stranglehold. The island itself, now a prison, its tranquil beauty a cruel mockery of his inner turmoil and struggles.

The phone, once a beacon of hope, now lies dormant in his palm, a cruel reminder of their isolation and the limitations of their circumstances.

Even if by some miracle the call had connected, he knew the call wouldn’t be answered.

He remembers the excuses he'd made, the promises he had broken, the bridges he'd burned and watched collapse in his reckless pursuit of oblivion.

In the silence of his solitude on the ridge, Frankie's only able to confront the harsh truth again - that his addiction has driven a wedge between him and the people he cares about most, and now, he's on his own.

He stands on the ridge for an indeterminable amount of time, sweating, his body shaking and feeling light-headed, and staring out at the seemingly never ending ocean, feeling ever more pissed at the world. 

Fuck.

As soon as light pools into the cave mouth, Jude’s awake and watching as Frankie begins an impromptu fashion show on the beachfront.

It hadn’t rained during the night, disappointed to find only a bug inside one of the bottles, Jude had watched with some distant interest as the bug skittered around inside, trapped and unable to cling to the sides to crawl out fully.

She couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for its plight; she and Frankie were trapped too.

She’d tipped it out onto the sand, watching it scurry away under some pebbles and wondered how simple a bug’s life must be. 

They still had the bottled water and some cans of fizzy drinks for now, but Jude was more than aware that they needed to get a water source set up and with some urgency too. 

Frankie had informed her about the cell phone’s lack of signal as she’d emerged from the cave mouth to find him sorting through the clothes with a grey cloud looming over his head, and it started to bring the mood down between them a little. 

As the words left his chapped lips, he watched her expression falter - a fleeting glimpse of disappointment that mirrored his own. He could see the hope drain from her eyes, replaced by a weary resignation that seemed to settle over her like a heavy shroud.

For a moment, there was silence between them - a palpable heaviness that hung in the air, stifling any words of comfort or reassurance.

Frankie felt a pang of guilt chomp at his insides, knowing that he had raised her hopes only to dash them against the harsh reality of their circumstances.

"I'm sorry," he’d whispered, his voice marred with the usual tone of disappointing others that he was used to. "I thought… I thought maybe it would work. But we'll figure something out."

She didn't say anything, instead turning away from him with a shrug. 

Silences seemed to linger and feel heavy, and it was hard to talk about anything optimistically or offer a smile for a little bit. Even the bonanza of food and clothes they’d found in the fuselage yesterday seemed like a short-lived hurrah.

The iPhone was a bust, and somewhere deep in the back of Jude’s mind, she kinda knew it would be.

Frankie’s standing on the beach wearing a rather bold, and lurid orange, Hawaiian shirt, that doesn’t do anything for him in the slightest. He flirts with the ridiculous and they both know it.

“What were you thinking when you picked this out?” He asks rather askance, looking down at himself, giant palms facing outward. 

Jude had sorted through the clothes previously and handed him lots to try on, seeing as the majority of the clothes they had found were menswear.

There were a few pieces for her; a couple of pairs of shorts, some t-shirts and a turquoise summer dress with sequins on it, with some black flip flops and a black bikini.

Frankie however had a pile the size of a small mountain to pick from.

“Brings out your eyes,” she giggles. “Put it in the maybe pile.”

Frankie looks at her with a whimsical look before he unbuttons it and shoves it back into the suitcase. 

“It’s going in the fuckin’ burn it now and never speak of it again pile.” He muses.

Jude looks away feeling suddenly like she’s intruding on something she shouldn’t see as he stands only in his jeans, swollen and bruised, rummaging back through the pile for something else less gaudy.

He likes a jazzy, floral shirt, and rocks it more often than not, but that's too jazzy even for his liking.

He’s kinda strapping - a toned buck that’s a bit lanky, and little chonky and meaty in all the right places, especially around his tummy and thighs, and the broadest shoulders to boot.

He smells clean, or cleaner than he was previously; like soap and wild meadows in springtime wafting off of him, though that briny scent still seems to cling to skin no matter how much he washed himself with the soap.

His hair is a mess of chocolate brown, but with lighter tones weaved throughout the curls when the sun hits it. Although, he keeps it tucked away under the cap that’s been fixed on his head since Jude had met him. 

They’d both taken the time that morning to wash and clean themselves in the ocean water at separate ends of the beach. Each taking a small amount of soap and some towels they’d found in the cases.

Jude opted for the yellow striped towel and smirked as Frankie was left with the Finding Nemo one. 

Inside the sea, fully naked, Jude had rinsed her hair with fruity shampoo and detangled it with her fingers and tied it up, with a hair tie she’d found in the make-up bag, in a bun to dry.

She’d dried off on the sand; sitting back and watching the shore line for a while whilst she applied the sun lotion to her raw skin, in case she missed a boat or something, ever hopeful and convinced that today would be the day they would both would get off this God forsaken piece of rock in the middle of the current. 

She’d applied some of the antiseptic cream to her wound on the back of her calf and it stung a little, but was definitely healing, although she’d probably be left with a horrid scar.

Better a scar than an amputation from gangrene… 

When she was dressed in some khaki shorts and a new t-shirt that was a little baggy on her, Jude walked back to the beach to see Frankie sitting on the rocks fingering through the clothes pile, wearing only his towel around his golden, puffy waist.

His legs were incredibly long and his shoulders defined in all the right places; it was a hard feat not to stare at him like a dribbling chimp.

She excused herself whilst he dressed; giving him some privacy as she retreated to the cave mouth to return the toiletries, keeping them in the shade out of the sun would ensure they’d last.

Then returned and sat on the rocks watching as he tried on some of the tops and shirts on offer to him once he was suitably decent, back in his jeans that sit low on his paunchy waist.

The gray sweater swamps him slightly, but is short in the arms and baggy at the neck where it’s been stretched by its previous owner, but it’s better than nothing.

Better than the Finding Nemo towel, even if Jude can’t stop looking at his body, despite trying her best not to. 

He takes off the sweater in front of her and all she can do is try not to obviously look as he reveals himself to her casually. He has a few dark hairs circling his nipples and a snail trail that matches them from his oddly slot-shaped belly button, which disappears into his waistband.

Her eyes betray her and she’s drawn to his midriff where she spies a constellation of bruises, some in their embryonic stage, and can’t help but ask where he got them from.

“You’re all beaten up.” Jude says to him.

Some are in the yellowing stage. a couple dotted across the ridge of his hip bones. One under his right arm, down the side of his ribcage, is larger and purple with broken red blood vessels.

He looks down at his chest dumbfounded for a moment and then shrugs.

Frankie doesn’t say anything and pulls on a gray, round necked t-shirt that suits him much better than the jazzy Hawaiian shirt. It’s tight on him in all the right places.

“From the crash, I guess. I remember something hitting me in the water... It was the piece of debris that saved my life in the end. I think it was part of the wing.” Frankie explains, thinking aloud. 

“Jesus.” Jude utters.

She remembers clinging onto the piece of sheet metal debris herself, although it wasn’t big enough for her to sit on it or anything like that, it just simply kept her afloat as she drifted into an uncertain abyss.

“I just laid on it floating in the water for so long. I had no fuckin’ idea where the current was taking me. I remember looking up and seeing land after passing out, and I think at that point I couldn’t believe it was real. I was convinced I was gonna die out there.” Frankie speaks with a deep reverence, his eyes looking off to the water and focused on reliving through his harrowing memories of only a few days prior. 

Jude knew; she felt it for she’d experienced the same horror he had - lived through it as he had. Both of them alone on the water gaining common ground, unaware at the time that there was another person, another survivor, not too far from their suffering, going through the same dreadful plight.

It was a terrifying ordeal, but somehow made it easier to cope with in the aftermath, that each of them wasn’t fully alone out there on the water after all. So near, yet so far.

“I felt the same when I saw it. I started swimming like crazy and the thought occurred to me that I could be imagining it too, and swimming into deeper water or something; that I was going to drown because I would never make it, you know? Like the island was playing tricks on me.” Jude recalls. 

Frankie stops the fashion show and sits down opposite her on the rocks as she swallows back a choke. Fine wisps of her hair have come loose from her bun and stick to her lips. 

“Do you… remember it, the moment we crashed?” Frankie asks carefully. 

She shakes her head. “You?”

“Flashes.” He says. “The point of impact though, I just… it’s hazy.”

Jude nods. “Perhaps that’s a good thing.” She concludes. 

“It’s peaceful here... quiet.” Frankie observes after some time. “Kinda beautiful in a way.”

“Yeah. Do you know which gang runs this turf? We should really compliment them on what they’ve done with the landscape.” Jude muses.

Frankie chuckles as he drinks from the water bottle. “I don’t know what would’ve happened to us if we hadn't found this island.” Frankie surmises looking at her with some concern.

The thought makes both of their blood run cold.

“It’s not worth thinking about; we’re here. We survived a fucking plane crash, that’s gotta be cosmic or something.”

“Either that or we’re the luckiest two assholes in the world.” Frankie concludes.

“If we had champagne, I’d certainly toast to that.” Jude giggles.

Frankie thinks for a second. “Hang on,” he stands up and walks over to the cave mouth.

“No way!” Jude gasps as he comes back with two small, individual sized bottles he’d taken from the trolley, looking tiny in his giant hands. 

“It’s not champagne, just sparkling wine. But close enough.” He remarks.

It’s somewhat cool from being in the shade all night in the case and as he twists off the caps, they chink the bottles together. 

“To the luckiest two assholes in the world,” Jude toasts with a smirk.

“To us, hermosa.” Frankie agrees, before taking a mouthful of the wine.

Fire is an absolute necessity in any kind of survival situation. 

You need fire for multiple reasons; warmth, to cook food, to use the smoke for a signal. To ward off predators that might be lurking in the underbrush watching you from the trees, working out the best time to pounce and eat you.

And of course, to see in the choking darkness that swamps the island as soon as the sun disappears from the sky for another day. 

Assuming that you don’t have traditional fire starting devices such as matches or a lighter with you - I mean on a desert island that would be a miracle in itself if you did - you’ll need to come up with a more creative way to start your fire.

One example of what you can do is to use the bottom of a soda or beer can to reflect the heat of the sun onto your kindling, or you can use your glasses or a pair of binoculars if you have them, to focus the heat of the sun on your tinder instead.

Frankie decided instantly that they made starting fires in movies look so fucking easy, because it’s anything but. He’d been at it for ages, after gathering plenty of sticks and dried-out leaves he could find in a pile by the rocks, to the right of the cave mouth, but soon gave up when he felt the rawness in his palms.

He then tried using the glass from one of the empty wine bottles, angling it in the sunlight until he gave that up too and tossed it across the rocks, smashing it to pieces as it made contact with it. 

He grunted out in annoyance and stood up pacing, and then crouched down to have another go at the stick rubbing. 

A while later and he managed to get a faint whiff of burning fill his nostrils as he worked the fire-plow method, taking to digging a groove into the wood with the switchblade Jude had found, and rubbing a stick back and forth in his palms relentlessly; twisting it round and round, back and forth, until he could blow on it and see a faint ember glow. 

He was careful to ensure it didn’t go out and was almost skipping with glee around it like a Neanderthal when the wispy smoke gave birth to actual flames. 

"Toma eso, hijo de puta!” (Take that, you motherfucker!) Frankie yelped, smiling and tossed more leaves and branches onto it, scurrying over to the tree line and back again with more sticks to burn so it didn't go out. 

An hour or so later and the fire is almost as tall as he is, and radiating a lot of heat and smoke on the beachfront as darkness starts to claim the sky. 

Jude’s impressed and high-fives him when she emerges from the cave with two of the airline’s pre-packaged meals. 

“Now we have fire, maybe we should check out the cave at some point?” Frankie suggests. 

He glances at it over her shoulder and she nods with a thin smile. 

She empties the contents of the meals into two of the washed out tin cans, and sets them into the fire to cook. 

“Chicken or beef, sir?” She asks Frankie, imitating a steward with a high pitched voice, and he laughs as he brings over two bottles of warm beer and uses his teeth to uncap them. 

They eat together on the beach in a contented silence, hot food and a beer doesn’t get much better than this, considering what they’ve been through over the course of the last few days.

It seems to perk them both up a little after the depressing events with the iPhone.

“How did you get on with the water?” Jude asks him, as she puts her beer down in the sand. 

“I made a couple of solar stills, over there.” Frankie points to the edge of the rocks where it rounds down a slight slope towards the shoreline.

“What’s a solar still exactly?” She asks, scooping some of the meat into her mouth with her fingers and then sucking them clean.

Frankie has to look away when she does it, there’s something... untamed about it. 

He swallows. “Basically, a hole in the ground with a can and lots of leaves and plastic over it. Water drips from the plastic sheet into the can, like condensation, I guess.”

“Neat.”

“We can check ‘em daily and drink as we need to. Any empty bottles or cans we have from the stash we can place in the sand to collect rainwater too; should be enough to keep us going for a little while at least.” He explains.

“Did they teach you all of this stuff in the Army?”

“Yeah, some basic survival,” he says. “Although, they don’t teach you about being stranded on an island in the middle of the fuckin' ocean.” He clears his throat as he sups from his beer. 

“No, I guess not,” Jude says, gathering more meat in her fingers. 

“So, have you been all over the world with your job?” Frankie asks, making some conversation as they eat. 

“Mostly Europe and the States; some parts of Scandinavia too, Iceland… I have a trip to Namibia planned later this year.” She contemplates it. “Or had.”

“Hey,” Frankie rouses her eyes to his. “You’re still going. We’ll be off this island real soon.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you're probably right.” She says.

The crackling fire casts flickering shadows across the sand, as they share a simple meal amidst the shadows of the oncoming night.

The aroma of the packaged meals fills the air, mingling with the salty tang of the ocean breeze as they sit like worn-out lumps, close to the warmth of the flames.

“What place did you like the most?” Frankie asks, shooing the lingering silence away as it crawls out from the shadows to taunt him. 

“Paris. It’s my favourite city.” Jude says after she finishes chewing.

“I’ve never been.”

“I love Paris. The architecture is awesome. The food. The art.” Jude says, dreamily. “I love traipsing around the Louvre all day.”

“You like all them pretty statues, huh?”

“It’s touching a piece of history, something so nostalgic about it.”

Frankie nods again as he eats, licking his lips free of the sauce. “This is pretty good.”

“Not bad for an economy meal. Did you fly in coach?” She enquires, casually. 

“No, I was, uh, up in business class.” He says, mumbling.

“Fancy.”

“Company paid for it. Where were you sitting on the plane?” Frankie asks, looking at her.

“Right at the back in economy; the very last seats by the exit doors. I once read that if you sit in the back of a plane, you have a sixty-eight percent chance of survival in a crash, and I guess it kind of stuck with me.”

“What about in the middle?”

“Lower, but still pretty good odds. Did you brace like they tell you to in the safety demo?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t remember.”

She touches her head and it still feels sore and swollen. She doesn’t remember much either; she’d put on her oxygen mask and whatever it was that struck her head had knocked her clean out.

Although she’s grateful for that, some sadistic curiosity wants to remember the actual impact. 

“I bet my mom is freaking out,” she assumes solemnly. 

Frankie places down his empty tin can and sits back against the rock, staring into the fire. It’s still burning tall and brightly orange with its dancing flames. 

“I imagine she probably is.” He affirms.

“And your parents, your family?” 

He shrugs. “Maybe.” Although he’s doubtful. 

“Even my asshole of an ex-fiancé is probably trying to reach me.”

“You were engaged?” Frankie asks. 

She nods, supping from her beer some more. “We were together for four years and they were all miserable to be honest with you.” 

“Ah, they can’t have been all bad.”

“Trust me.”

“Well, tell me.” He smiles crookedly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Tell me about it. What was he like?”

“A douche bag.” Jude confirms, running her tongue around her teeth.

He chuckles. “No, I mean when you first met him.”

She thinks for a moment. “Charming. Stupid…” Jude tries not to smile. “I dunno, he was just… perfect.”

Frankie snorts.

“What?”

“Come on, no-one’s perfect.” He says. 

“I thought he was. But I was an idiot for thinking he would change, you know? He treated me… he cheated mostly, that kind of thing.”

“That sucks,” Frankie says.

“Dumb thing is, I let him. It’s like I lost my damn mind and was convinced it was better to be with him then be alone; like I wasn’t worthy to be loved properly by someone. I kinda lost myself for a bit...” 

Frankie watches her speak and listens to her, seeing the orange from the flames dance inside her wistful eyes.

He remembers Eddie's words echoing around his head.

“They say we attract the kind of love we think we deserve.” Frankie states to her as he looks down at his hands knotting in his lap. 

She nods. “I guess that’s true. The irony is, is that it will probably never happen now anyway.” Jude concludes with the final swig of her beer before she tosses the empty on the sand beside her.

“Don’t say that. We’ll get off this island and you’ll find someone that’ll treat you right back home.” Frankie assures with a tight smile. 

“Doubtful. I’m sworn off men for life.” She composes herself and hugs her knees, looking over at him. “What about you, what’s your story, Pilot?” She asks, smiling and he smirks back at her. 

“Probably even more depressing than yours,” Frankie says.

“Well, I love a good depressing story, I mean look around us.” Jude motions her hand around the dark, isolated beach and he chuckles.

Frankie takes another mouthful of warm, sudsy beer. “It’s really nowhere near as exciting.”

“Tell me about the Army, what was that like?”

“Challenging.”

“How long did you serve?”

“Twenty years.”

“Wow.” Jude Baulks. “What places?”

“Darfur. Iraq. Bosnia. There’s more…” 

“Impressive. You said you retired?”

“Yeah.” Frankie nods. 

“You don’t look old enough to retire.” Jude says, noting the boyish looks hovering around his tan weathered skin that’s shadowed under the brim of his cap. 

“I feel it.” Frankie grumbles. 

“How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Forty-three. I was twenty-two when I enlisted. It’s all I’ve ever really known.”

“Did you know you wanted to enlist?”

He nods. “I knew I always wanted to fly. I made captain at twenty-eight.”

“You’re a captain?”

“Yeah.”

“You should have flown the damn plane. We might’ve made it.” Jude quips. 

“I would've if I could. I can only fly helicopters.”

“I’ve never been in a helicopter. What’s it like?”

“Like…” He trails off, recalling those moments filled with adrenaline as he took to the skies in his chopper, the familiar whir of the rotors and the exhilarating rush of lift-off filling him with a sense of euphoria unlike anything else.

The controls responding to his touch with precision, each sure movement a testament to his skill and expertise as a pilot. With the ground falling away beneath him, Frankie felt a surge of freedom coursing through his veins - a liberation from the constraints of gravity and the mundane concerns of everyday life.

In the vast expanse of the sky, he found solace - a sanctuary where he could leave behind the worries of the world below and lose himself in the exhilaration of flight, sharing the sky with the birds.

The sheer beauty of the world stretched out before him, a panorama of rolling hills and winding rivers, filled him with an awe that bordered on reverence.

But amidst the beauty of the natural world, there was also a sense of power - a thrill that pulsed through him with each manoeuvre, each twist and turn of the aircraft.

He was in control, he had the grit to keep the bird in the air or bring it to land safely.

He looks down at his hands and the tremble that makes itself known in his fingers again as he balls them into fists.

These hands can’t fly shit anymore...

“Maybe I’ll get to experience it one day.” Jude concludes, quietly. 

“Did you always know you wanted to take pictures?” Frankie asks, clearing his throat.

“My parents brought me my first camera when I was six. I had no idea what I was doing with it, it was this old, clunky thing… a Panasonic, I think. One of those flippy out screens. Far too expensive for a six-year old.” She puts down her empty tin after she’s finished eating from it. 

“That’s cool,” he says, listening to her speak intently.

Frankie watches as a smile plays across her lips, a flicker of childhood innocence reflected in her eyes.

He can imagine her as a young girl, eagerly exploring the world through the lens of her camera, capturing moments of wonder and discovery with each click of the shutter.

"I took it everywhere with me," Jude continues, her voice tinged with a sense of wistfulness. "I would snap photos of anything and everything - flowers in the garden, my dog Winky, even the clouds in the sky. It was like a window into another world…"

“You named your dog Winky?" Frankie chuckles.

"No, my parents did." She grins.

"Sure, sure."

"It's funny," she muses, her gaze drifting towards the dark sky above. "Even now, all these years later, I still feel that same sense of wonder whenever I pick up a camera. It's like I'm transported back to that time. Never gets old. I guess that’s how it feels for you, right, flying?” She enquires, her knees brought closer to her chest and resting her elbow on them as she regards him, the flames casting spooky, swaying shadows that dance over his face.

Frankie nods at her with a reverent smile. “Yeah. It does.” 

She runs her hands through her hair, taking it out of the bun as the breeze whips around them.

“How did your ex-girlfriend handle it? I imagine it must have been hard to leave her for so long whilst you were serving?”

It stings a little in her gut, imagining how Nate would react in such a situation and knowing full well he would have taken complete advantage of it too, the scumbag.

Women falling at his feet? Oh yeah.

“We weren’t together then, we met after I got out.”

“Tell me about her.”

Frankie’s face immediately wrinkles.

“Oh come on, I told you about mine.” She grins.

He swallows hard. “I was an asshole to her.” He brings his beer bottle up to his lips again and pauses before drinking. 

“What did you do?”

He shakes his head. “I just wasn’t… good.”

Jude nods slowly as though she’s analysing his words carefully. Noting a silent plea in his eyes telling her not to probe too deeply. 

“Were you unfaithful?” Jude asks, poking idly at the fire pit with a branch she’s picked up beside her.

“No, nothing like that,” Frankie confirms, looking her square in the eye. “What I did was probably worse.” He explains, feeling that he’s probably giving too much away to her, but talking to her seems to flow as naturally as the warm beer going down his throat. 

“We all make mistakes.” She feels a pull in her stomach as she says it.

“Doesn’t make it right though.”

“No, it doesn’t. But what’s important is that we learn and grow from them instead of repeating them. Although, I’m one to talk. Hell, I’ve made plenty, so I’m certainly not going to judge you for a moment of weakness, Frankie. Only God can do that, if you believe in Him.”

He shakes his head. "Do you?"

"Fuck no!" She laughs and he grins. "You're kidding, right?"

It’s on the edge of his tongue, the fucked up truths about him ready to be bared in all their shameful flesh and graces, but he keeps his lips shut up tight and just watches Jude's shoulders still when her giggles die out. 

They sit in a contemplative, comfortable silence sipping from their warm beers and listening to the fire crackle and spit. It’s almost as if this conversation, a conversation of equals, has made Jude evaluate and respect the fact that he’s so forthcoming with her, when he doesn’t need to be.

He can easily just feed her a pack of lies; make up a story about who he was back on dry land. They could be rescued at any moment and then what? They’d probably go back to their own lives and never talk again in the most likelihood of outcomes.

Apart from being stranded on an island together, what did they actually have in common? 

Their paths would never have crossed in any other situation, she realises that. But that’s also the beauty of it. The fact that it’s possible in this world, against all odds for two people, two complete strangers with their own pasts, stories, experiences to be thrust into one another’s path for reasons that they probably don’t understand or even consider at the time. 

Everything happens for a reason.

“Can we have a do over you think, when we get off this fuckin’ island?” Frankie asks with a contemplative smile.

“I think we deserve that, don’t you?” Jude says, with a little smile of comfort offered back to him. 

“I think we’ve definitely paid our dues, right?” Frankie smirks crookedly. 

She looks up at the sky. “You hear that universe? Fish says we’ve paid our fucking dues!”

Frankie also looks up at the sky and smiles. 

“Wow. Look how clear it is up there.” Jude muses.

The sky is insanely black, but there are millions of stars scattered across it, far more than you would see on a normal night in a busy town clogging the sky with that pesky light pollution.

It’s as though someone has tossed millions of diamonds up there and they all twinkle in unison. 

“I’ve never seen so many stars,” Jude marvels; lying backwards until she’s flat against the sand and staring right up on high. 

Frankie shuffles down and lays beside her, keeping a subtle gap, his legs running parallel to hers and clasping his hands over his chest in astonishment.

They both just stargaze and stay locked inside an awed silence whilst their eyes take in the view presented to them; seeming like it’s just for them and no-one else. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She asks after some time just lying there basking in the wonderment that space has to offer. 

“Yeah,” Frankie agrees; his eyes roaming across the sky seeking out constellations he’s familiar with, his curious mind questioning all that’s known and unknown. 

The beauty of space is unequalled; rendering you catatonically mute in astonishment as you try to untangle all its mysteries and the questions it provokes in you.

And yet you can never begin to fathom or accept its infinite wisdom it has to offer you. All you can do is point and drool as you say ‘pretty stars’ over and over again like you’ve been given a lobotomy and can’t remember your own name. 

It knocks you for six and winds you as you stare up into the black, never ending void of space, time and unchartered territory, which in our lifetimes, we’ll never explore or understand fully.

And it’s all kinds of wonderful as it makes you and all your problems seem utterly insignificant for a while; problems like being stuck on a desert island and never knowing when or even if you’ll ever be rescued. 

For a few short moments, Jude forgets they’re both stranded and trying to survive. For a few short minutes, Frankie forgets he’d fought for his life in the water against the current trying to drown him. 

For several quiet beats they’re one with the cosmos and everything else pales into insignificance. 

“I used to do this as a kid.” Jude smiles, remembering all the times she would sneak out of her room onto the roof with ease and watch the sky at night.

Thinking then how brilliant it was to see the stars, but never imagined there could be millions in the sky like she’s seeing now. “I’d stay out for hours just watching the sky and taking pictures of the moon; I saw a shooting star once.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, it was so cool.”

“Did you make a wish?” Frankie asks with a smile escaping his mouth as he turns his head towards her.

“That would be telling.”

“Ah, you’re no fun,” he says, as she nudges his elbow with hers. 

“I remember wondering what it would be like to be a shooting star travelling so fast across space. Sounds stupid, I know.”

“Not at all. I’ve seen one myself.”

In a fleeting moment of respite during his time on the frontline, he saw it - a shooting star streaking across the heavens, a radiant beacon of light amidst the dark ravages of war.

For a brief instant, time seemed to stand still as Frankie had watched in awe, his breath caught in his throat as he marvelled at the celestial spectacle unfolding before him, whilst he was covered in dirt and desert dust.

“What did you wish for?” Jude asks.

“World peace,” he says, very deadpan.

She snickers and sits upright on her elbows.

The backdrop of the sky seems to meet with the water and endure a long kiss goodnight as they merge into one being in the dark. 

“Have you seen the Northern Lights on your travels?” Frankie asks her.

She nods. “A few times, in Scandinavia; but it was very brief. They were gone just as quickly as they appeared. But it’s still pretty awesome.”

“I bet. I’d love to see them; all that green.”

“They’re pink too.” Jude says, looking up at the sky.

“You saw that?”

“No. I want to though.”

“You will one day. I know it.”

“Are you psychic there, Frankie? You can see our future beyond this island, huh?” She questions with a grin.

He laughs, crinkling his nose and it’s kinda beautiful. “No. But I know we’re going leave here. Really soon.”

“I really hope you’re right about that.” She looks back up at the sky and hopes a shooting star will appear so she really can wish that they’ll be rescued. 

“Unfortunately, I’m right about everything.” Frankie states confidently and grins, and she playfully mock punches him on the shoulder. 

“That wasn’t very nice,” he feigns shock and ouchies.

“Well, I’m not a nice person.” Jude teases.

“Yes you are. You have good vibes about you.” Frankie confirms. 

“You think so?” 

He nods slowly and looks back at the sky himself. “Some things I just know.”

“Good old psychic Frankie. When we get home, I’m going to buy you a crystal ball.” Jude snorts. 

“When we get home I’m going to buy you a burger. And a beer.” Frankie confirms, chuckling. 

“Fuck, don’t talk to me about burgers... Aww man. I really want, like the sloppiest, greasiest cheeseburger, with fried onions and so much ketchup squirting out the sides of it.” She can feel her mouth beginning to water like crazy at the thought of it. "Oh my God..."

“Now you’re fuckin’ talking.” He agrees, licking his lips.

They both smile and shift back to that awed, comfortable silence as they stargaze on high for a while longer.

“I’ll hold you to that, you know.” Jude puts to him after a while. “I want my cheeseburger.”

“I promise, hermosa.” Frankie reassures, turning to her and smiling in the firelight.

His eyes are big and dark and she marvels at the intensity of them, two deep wells pulling her in.

“Good.” She smiles back at him.

To be continued...

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