#the one that stands here before thee

[starkkawajiri]

the moment of truth is upon us

genshin strange variant lore

I will talk about how he got his Vision and how I obliterated his hopes and dreams in just 2 minutes

• Electro Vision

if you get an electro vision it means the archons/gods saw you being beat up by the world and fate itself and gave you a cool purple rock

• Sufian Strange got his Electro Vision in Mondstadt. what was this guy doing in mondstadt?? family bonding (trip with the familyy)

do i dare say how i took out his family members one by one (no)

• His younger sister, Dhiyaa (donna variant, u get it), drowned, and upon Strange failing to save her, he received an Electro Vision ["sorry :("]

• Having gotten his Electro Vision under those circumstances he felt a little bit of resentment towards The Seven Archons during that time, in his guilt and denial he thought that if he had gotten a Dendro Vision he could have saved his sister

For a while he rejected his Vision, it being a constant reminder of what he lost and failed to save, and the embodiment of his own major failure

• With time, he healed and accepted a Dendro Vision could not have saved Dhiyaa, but you know how that goes, you still subconsciously cling to the denial and hope ((delusion)) of the past

and you know where I'm leading to with that

• Dendro Delusion

Delusions are Vision-like objects produced by the Fatui, they're more powerful than Visions and they drain/backfire on the user

basically diy visions

• Some time after becoming a sorcerer, Sufian decided to search for a Dendro Delusion (yikess)

reason??

-> Between Dhiyaa's death and Strange becoming a Sorcerer, he started research on tampering with life and death ((at this point fate got a kill streak with his whole family - parents, both of his siblings, everyone)) and you know how he was an Akademiya scholar

emphasis on "was"

yeah researching that topic isn't allowed in Akademiya and it can grant you a very very long holiday

he got expelled (yikesss²)

-> and you know how the Dendro element embodies life and how Delusions are stronger than Visions

• Delusion usage can have silly cool awesome side effects!! (yikessss³) he may look like he hasn't slept in 27 years but now he has a super awesome third eye, cooler ears, fangs, gradient on fingers, and more!!

(because dendro embodies life and nature, the dendro delusion altered his physical appearance, u get me. u get m)

ending this post with a bang, look at what Strange got from his sister❤️❤️

i control the speed at which my happiness dies

thank you for reading dont forget to like and subscribe and hit the bell button

[adrienneleclerc]

TikTok Gone Viral

Paring: charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina reader

Summary: Y/N used a specific TikTok audio and it goes VIRAL

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: I had this audio in my head so like why not. It’s my version of making Y/N a “PR nightmare�� as other fanfic authors put it

Y/N was scrolling through TikTok while Charles was washing dishes, as he should because she cooked, and came across a video of a girl using a Megan Thee Stallion song with the caption “ovulation week be like”. She thought it would be fun to use the same audio so she put her phone against the napkin stand they have in the counter and started recording.

I need *points to self* this pussy *points down* on his *points to Charles off screen* nose *points to her nose* I spread it, I spread it, I pose *random dancing*

However, she did not see Charles move into the frame as she danced because she had her head down and just posted it without looking back at it. She did caption it “needing my boyfriend a little too much lately” and just exited TikTok. Their relationship has always been private, no one really knew Charles was dating anyone after Alexandra and they’ve only been dating for a few months. At least it WAS private.

“What were you filming, Mon ange?” Charles asked.

“Just a silly little TikTok, muñeco, don’t pay mind to it.” Y/N said.

“Alright well I’m done with the dishes, you want to watch a movie?” Charles asked

“Can we watch ‘Nosotros Los Nobles’?” Y/N asked.

“Whatever you want, Mon ange.” Charles said.

“Get the chips.” Y/N said as she got up from where she was sitting to head to their bedroom for a blanket while Charles gets chips from the pantry. They both headed over to their couch, sat down, Y/N put the blanket over them, and Charles gave her the bag of chips and passed her the remote. “Okay, it’s has English subtitles, so I hope you find this movie funny.”

“I’m sure I will.” Charles said. Sadly, both fell asleep on the couch, charles was cuddling Y/N. However, with Charles’s phone charging in his bedroom, he missed multiple missed calls from the Ferrari media manager, Fred, Pierre, Arthur, and his other friends. Y/N also has missed calls from her friends

The next morning, Y/N woke up on top of Charles. She shook him awake.

“Muñeco, we fell asleep on the couch, get up.” Y/N said and Charles woke up.

“Mm, what time is it?” Charles asked.

“I Don’t know, my phone is charging in the room.” Y/N said, getting off the couch to get her phone.

“Can you get my phone too?” Charles asked.

“Sure thing, muñeco.” Y/N went to their bedroom and unplugged their phones and she was shocked to see how many missed calls both of them received. “Charles, you have so many missed calls, here.” Y/N handed him his phone.

“Thanks Mon ange.” Charles said. He unlocked his phone and called the media manager. “Hello?”

“Charles I’ve been trying to reach you yesterday, your girlfriend posted something on TikTok.” The media manager said and Charles was very confused.

“How do you know I have a girlfriend?” Charles asked and Y/N’s head popped up.

“What about me?” Y/N whispered asked and Charles made an “I don’t know” face.

“The whole world knows she your girlfriend because you’re in the background of her now VIRAL TikTok. I’ll talk to you later.” The media manager hung up and Charles looked at Y/N.

“Ma Belle, my beautiful beautiful girlfriend, what did you post on TikTok last night?” Charles asked. Y/N took out her phone to open up TikTok.

“Just a silly TikTok using a trendy audio…oh shit, I gained SOOO many followers.” Y/N laughed and Charles took her phone to click on her profile and see the video he posted. His eyes widened when he saw himself appear on screen. The video had 9.1 million likes, 60.7 thousand comments, 231.8 thousand saves, and 76.3 thousand shares. Y/N looked over his shoulder. “Oh that’s why the video went viral. Oh I’m so sorry, muñeco, I didn’t know you appeared, I didn’t rewatch the video before posting, are you in trouble?”

“I don’t think I’m in trouble but now I have to introduce you as my girlfriend.” Charles said. “We are no longer private, Mon ange.”

“Shit, I was doing so well without the hate comments.” Y/N pouted and Charles chuckled before kissing her.

“I hope you’re ready, Mon ange.” Charles said before he grabbed his phone to record a video. “Hello everyone, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. We have been dating for a few months. Say hello, Mon Chou.” Charles said, pointing the phone to Y/N.

“Hello” Y/N waved shyly. Charles pointed the phon back to him.

“We met at her job, she’s actually a bartender, it was after my break up with Alex, we talked, we hit it off, we started hanging out, and now we’re dating, not that it’s any of your business. But I like her a lot and we’re happy together.” Charles stopped the video and posted it on his Instagram.

“You really had to say I was a bartender?” Y/N asked.

“Well you are a bartender, mon coeur.” Charles said.

“Watch them say I’m only after your money.” Y/N said.

“But we both know that’s not true, your salary is pretty good AND you get tips. I am glad I don’t have to hide you anymore though, I can finally post pictures of us together.” Charles said, kissing her.

“Well I’m glad you’re happy. Do you have to go to maranello?” Y/N asked.

“Nope, you want to go out today? We could go on the yacht.” Charles suggested.

“Ooh, a picnic on the yacht?” Y/N asked,

“Yep.” Charles said.

“I’m gonna start cooking.” Y/N said already looking in the pantry to see if they have anything to make. Charles just looked at her with love in his eyes, now the whole world knows he has the cutest person as his girlfriend.

The End

Hope y’all liked it, I found this very fun to write. Also, is there a market for Logan Sargeant x Hispanic reader fanfics?

[heavenbarnes]

Million Dollar Baby

Art Donaldson x Fem Reader

Warnings/Contains: this is essentially a series of vignettes, at this point you’re the duncan-donaldson sugar baby, swearing, effective cheating (tashi approved), mild exhibitionism, face slapping (not with hands), unprotected sex, reader is pretty submissive, thee slightest tashi x reader, patrick mention.

Part one

it’s that part two to “i wanna make it (so badly)” that i kept harping on about! just wanted to prove to you all i could make good on something! enjoy! i still crave this man!

Born under a lucky star.

Rabbits foot. Horse shoe. Triple sevens. Four-leaf clover.

Art Donaldson plays tennis very well.

When you're around?

He's better.

O2 Arena, London, England. ATP men's singles finals.

Naturally the only way you'd ever get close to something like this was on her invitation.

Tashi had invited you.

"I beg your pardon?"

"We'll cover your flights and accommodation- it's important that you're there."

Yes, because you were sure you could sweet talk your way into a lesson with Lily at Buckingham Palace.

Obviously, obviously it wasn't about your silly little tennis lessons these days. But that was the front.

Rich neighbourhood, nosey neighbourhood.

"Tashi, I couldn't help but notice Art's Jeep drive past me as I left Pilates. Just who was that pretty young thing in his passenger seat?"

"She's Lily's tennis coach, he drops her off when she's had to stay late."

Yeah,

yeah.

Drops you off because your legs aren't their best when they've been over his shoulders for an hour.

It was a pretty good front.

So you found yourself courtside in a Lacoste skirt you'd never imagine owning. That's why you didn't own it, Tashi had left it on your bed among other items of clothing she expected to see you in.

Dress-up doll.

Her plaything.

Pulled out of your thoughts by the chorus of cheer, it was all directed to the movement you could just and only see out the corner of your eye.

Art Donaldson took the court with a kind of swagger that made your thighs tense under expensive material. His eyes took to the stands- sweeping over adoring eyes looking back at him.

And then he came to rest.

You could tell he looked at Tashi first, the way his shoulders straightened and the grip on his racquet became even tighter.

Miracle it didn't snap.

Then you felt him look at you, his eyes softened and the corner of his mouth turned up.

A smug smirk as he ran his tongue along his teeth.

And you began to think back on everything that lead you here.

-

You had found yourself in many precarious situations with Art.

And you were acutely aware of the fact you hadn't seen it.

You'd felt it- felt it against your thigh, the heat of your cunt,

fuck, you'd even felt it against the sole of your foot.

Ruined numerous pairs of Calvin Klein's in the process.

But you'd never seen it.

And it wasn't a topic of contention, it wasn't a 'you' thing per se.

It was actually the fact that Art about blacks out every time you make him cum, and that's through a good few layers of clothing.

The thought of getting it out and laying it against your bare skin? Putting it in your mouth? Putting it inside-

Even the the idea of it makes his eyes water. Blessing and a curse, really.

On one hand, he's guaranteed a mind-blowing orgasm.

On the other, it might only last a few seconds.

You were just happy to be there.

Art could give you everything or give you nothing and you'd lap it up every time.

Good girl.

Art looked good like this, he always looked good but there was something about this.

Sat on the couch, thighs spread, large hands balled up on his knees. When you were in this position- on your own knees before him, with reverence- he looked good.

He looked all consuming.

If you asked him, it wasn't a sight Art was used to, something something role reversal.

Your hands ran along the coarse hairs of his legs, ever-so-slightly getting closer to the bottom of his shorts.

(Post-tennis, still a little sweaty- heavy musk if you really got your face in there)

"We'll go as slow as you need, Art."

However he wants it, whenever he wants it.

Quarter to midnight on Tuesday, you were meant to be doing an ungodly load of laundry tonight. But then he'd looked at you, then he'd told you he 'needed' you.

Turns out whatever he wants looks a lot like what you want.

Obedience in spades.

He stopped you before your hands could go any further, opting to reach under the waistband himself. You were all the better for it, too focused on not giving up the extent of your excitement.

Was it weird to say you'd spent a lot of time imaging what his cock looked like?

Probably.

You reasoned it with the fact you knew Art spent a lot of time thinking about what happens under your pretty little tennis skirts. That and he'd seen it more times than you could count, these days.

Things always seem to go his way.

Your breath caught in your throat when Art hooked his thumb around the waistband, stretching the elastic so he could get it out.

Of course, of course it was as pretty as the rest of him.

Flushed pink at the tip, pale and creamy down the length of it. Kind of thing you need to get your lips around.

Banked for another day.

One hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped around the base- Art slapped his cock once, twice on your outstretched tongue.

"A-ahh, f-uck- okay-"

Nice and slow- can't have him blowing the top off just yet.

He couldn't really say you were helping the point. Sitting there, sitting pretty, primed and ready for whatever he wants next.

The sight along was enough material to tug his cock to for the rest of his life.

Let alone being faced with it.

Which is why he did just that- tugged his cock to it.

Long fingers wrapped around a long cock, twisting along the length of it, rolling the palm over the head. Sticky wetness catching in the centre of his palm as he drags it back along the shaft.

Your tongue stayed permanently outstretched, allowing him to slap the weeping tip right on it. If it wasn't your tongue, it was your cheek- wherever he could gain purchase with your skin without tipping himself over the edge.

Yet.

Eventually, Art came in filthy hot ropes across your face and the most minimal amount actually made it in your mouth.

Majority of it was painted across your cheeks, drawn up and sweet under your shining eyes. Bright smile stretched across your face beneath pearly little drops.

Pretty girl-

perfect girl.

-

"I'm sorry- I just need- oh, oh god- just need-"

Incoherent.

A bleary-eyed, incoherent Art.

Chest pressed tight to your back, shorts around his thighs- your little skirt bunched up tight in his fist.

"I need this- I need this- y'so good to me- I need this-"

Yeah, seems like it.

You'd only managed 15 minutes on the court before it'd come to this. Art had thrown his racquet to the wind and ushered you around the side of their changing shed- the same one where he first,

You know?

Yeah.

You'd actually headed for the door but he couldn't wait that long, pulled you between the wall and the tall fence that circled the court. You were both nestled in beneath an Arabian Gingerbread Palm of sorts- naturally.

Art had slipped your underwear to the side and mounted you like a fucking dog.

Desperate.

The sound of his taut thighs slapping against yours was fucking ludicrous, the sight would’ve managed something worse.

He had a look across his face that said he knew this was pathetic- that there was no way he should’ve been rutting into you in broad fucking daylight.

But it’s not like you could see that look, not when his face was pressed into your neck.

“Ohh, you just- you just feel so good.”

Was he crying?

You looped an arm around the back of his head, slowly stroking your nails against his scalp as you struggled to keep yourself from buckling under the pressure.

Your other arm stretched out in front of you, palm braced on the wall as Art continued the relentless piston of his hips.

Through tears even.

“Feels so good, Art- making me feel so fucking good- just rub my clit, touch me a little.”

In an instant, his fingers were under the front of your skirt as he rubbed haphazard circles around the apex of your cunt.

“Like this? You like this? Tell me I’m doing a good job, please.”

Jesus Christ.

“Yes- doing a good job, you always do so good- gonna’ make me cum.”

And like you’d said the magic word, Art was going rigid. Hips slamming into you with a couple brutal and unyielding thrusts, less precision than you were used to with him.

Til’ he was dripping out of you.

His fingers kept going.

Until your face was pressed was pressed against the changing shed wall, sure to leave a lovely pattern of stucco on your skin.

Until you were babbling and canting your hips back onto his hand as drool ran down the side of your cheek.

Until you even realised that he’d dropped to his knees and was running his tongue through your cunt from the back, massive hands splitting your cheeks.

You reached a hand back to grip his hair, pulling his face even further into the sodden lips of your pussy as you fucked yourself back onto his tongue.

“That’s it- lick my cunt, Art. See how good you taste?”

Your ears stopped ringing long enough for you to hear it.

He makes that noise when he cums.

Again.

Tashi watched you both drag your feet back into the house- a sheen of sweat over you both that could’ve looked post-tennis.

To anyone else but her.

She let you pass without issue, but a fine hand pressed to Art’s chest as he tried to follow you to the showers.

“If I ever see you cum before her again, there will be trouble. Understood?”

There was no use explaining that you didn’t mind, that you kind of liked when you riled him up- made him lose control.

That he probably deserved to feel good.

Instead, you heard him murmur an apology before he finally got you under the monsoon shower head in the enormous guest bathroom.

Three more good ones on his tongue, just for good measure.

-

It was a miracle the Donaldson-Duncan mantelpiece didn't crumble under the immense weight of success.

Trophy, after trophy, after photo, after-

"Did Tashi meet Obama?"

Art chuckles over your shoulder as he watches you cradle the photo, eyes wide with admiration. Devotion?

"She did, he invited her to the White House the year before we got engaged."

"Your invite get lost in the mail?"

"It wasn't about me."

Is anything ever about him?

As you continued your impassioned scan of their family treasures, you came to a complete stop at a 5x7 frame.

"Is this a young Art Donaldson?"

You could feel his eyes on you as you lifted the frame with the same gentle touch as you'd lent to Tashi's photo.

This time, your fingers gingerly brushed over the glass- almost as if you could feel the crop of golden curls beneath your fingertips.

"You've never seen any of my earlier games? Junior doubles at the US Open?"

Taking your eyes off a very-pretty-young Art, you threw him a look that said something like 'be so serious.'

"No, I wasn't much for watching tennis as a- what? Six year old?"

Oh.

That's right.

It was impossible for Art to forget the elephant in the room- call him a dirty old man but Art was always thinking about the pretty young thing that he liked best in his lap.

But sometimes he forgot.

"Well, that's me the day Patrick and I won."

"Who's Patrick?"

Oh.

And just like that he's chubbing up in his pants.

Art Donaldson currently exists in a space and time where he has something that Patrick doesn't.

And you're none the fucking wiser.

How could you be? You're still enamoured with the shaggy golden curls and the unspoken pull of a backwards cap.

"Yeah, you would've driven me wild back in the day."

There's a wry smile that catches on the corner of his mouth, right at the same moment he takes the photo from you. You're forced back to reality, present day-

The one where Art's a few years older but still as devastatingly handsome.

"Would've?"

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, feeling a firm chest pressing against your shoulder blades. Feeling crowded.

Feeling caught.

"As if I don't already."

Art spends the evening reminding you of your place.

That, despite the age between you, he's still the one that runs rings.

-

Contrary to popular belief, Art Donaldson has bad days.

Unfortunately for just about everyone in the O2 Arena, he chose today.

Well, the fates decided on today.

As he thrashed his racquet through the air, you could've sworn you heard the 'woosh' it was sure to have made from all the way up here.

Tense, you were slumped in your seat as you couldn't escape the voice in your head-

the one that was telling you your luck had run out.

The one that still sounds a lot like Tashi Duncan.

"COME ON!"

Tashi's voice actually sounded from beside you, making you jump out of your skin.

Naturally, you began searching for Art- searching for something to do, someway to fix this. What was left for you if you couldn't be lucky.

Rabbits foot. Horse shoe. Triple sevens. Four-leaf clover.

Nowhere to be found- but you found Art, found his eyes.

Looking at you.

Pleading with you.

Come on.

There was that pathetic little gaze you'd come to know. When he wanted something, when he needed something.

Art Donaldson always gets what he wants.

You jumped a little when you felt Tashi's hand rest on your knee where it crossed over the other. Perfect manicure drumming against your kneecap, gripping once.

Gripping twice.

Gently, prying it away from the other till they were side by side.

Thighs being forced apart.

Suddenly acutely aware that Art's eyes weren't on your face anymore.

They were on Tashi's hand.

Acutely aware that, among all the pretty things she'd laid out on your bed this morning, there wasn't a pair of panties among them.

That same perfect manicure between your spread thighs, patting you once, twice- right where her husband had made a home.

Under a lucky star.

Art Donaldson had a penchant for getting what he wants.

With an unmatched performance, the arena was turned on its head. Neon green blitz across the court, landing right where he wanted it to.

The crowd cheered his name to a tune only he knew;

How to be a winner.

All guts, all glory.

The deafening commotion chewed you up but it was Art that spat you out. Amongst the noise, the fury, you found him stood staring right at you.

Expectantly.

The weight of responsibility on your chest. Your luck hadn't run out, it was only just the beginning.

To the victor go the spoils.

Somewhere, a rabbit was missing it's foot.

[amirasainz]

Could you write where baby!sainz is a performer like Beyoncé or Megan Thee Stallion and she just went on tour and one of her songs she gives out a lap dance and one of the younger drivers (Lance/Logan/Zhou/Oscar) is the one getting lap dance and everyone else is jealous

Or since Lando has filmed a couple of videos with the sidemen maybe one of the boys flirt with her or get her in a sidemen Sunday where they’re her butlers for a day/week or they’re doing a 20 vs 1 and the boys are apart of the 20 and they’re wives/gfs are fangirling

Hope those made sense

Sooo, I never saw Megan Thee Stallion's performance. However, I adjusted things, so.....Enjoy!!! Let me know if you have any whishes!

-XoXo

No Part 2!!!

She's dancing like a stripper

Oscar couldn't believe it. Bright lights blinded him, the screams of the thousands of fans making his ears ring. The metal chair he was sitting on was vibrating from the guitar bass. Everything was starting to become too much, when his vision was filled with an angel. She was starring at him, a playful smile on her lips. Instead of wearing her sparkly dress, she now wore a skimpy outfit. Her high-heels brought her closer to him, her hands landing softly on his shoulders.

"Sidney, are you ready for the final?" Amira asked, turning her upper body towards the screaming crowd. The yelled so loud, that Amira slightly winced from the volume. "Because this was such an requested song, I will now sing "Favourite". But as you all know, this song has a special dance as well. And who could help me better, than our home-boy Oscar?" The crowd went wilde. They all knew that "special dance" was just a sweeter term for lap dance.

When the music picked up, Oscar's hands started sweating. Amira slowly lowered herself on his lap, his veiny hands immediately landing on her tights. When she started rocking herself on his lap, a low groan left his lips. Amira's hands brought his head closer to her breast. Before he could get too lost in his thoughts, Amira went of his lap.

She walked three steps away from him, some pf her backup dancers following her. She fell on her knees, spreading her legs. Two of her backup dancers, Sarah and Cheyenne, touched her body from behind. Sarah was busy touching her upper body, while Cheyenne ran her hands on the inside of her tights. Both of the girls brought their heads closer to the girl. Because their breaths tickled her, she had to laugh slightly.

When the refrain started, she crawled on her hands a bit, giving Oscar the perfect view of her ass. She lied on her upper body, ass in the air, when she turned on her back. Amira arched her back, spreading her legs once again. 'God, she's killing me here' was Oscars only thought. He gripped the armrest tightly when he saw Amira approaching again.

This time she sat down on his lap with her back turned towards his. She brought one of his hands very, very close to her privat parts, while she brought the other one on her neck. Her hand fisted his hair, brining him to her neck. Before he could stop himself, Oscar started kissing her neck. He slowly trailed his lips to her cheeks, moaning quietly in her ear. After a moment he realised that her hip movement spelled the word "coconut". God, this girl was truly something else.

When the song neared his end, Amira turned her face to Oscar, Their lips where close to touching. Before something more could happen, the roar of the crowd interrupted their little moment. Amira got up and smiled at all of the fans. She turned to Oscar, hugging him and whispering her thanks. With a Ferrari red face, Oscar left the stage. He really needed a cold shower now.

Bonus (+)

"No, this is unfair. This is so fucking unfair" muttered Logan, his eyes fixed on the couple on stage. Lando was standing next to him, his mouth agape. How the fuck did his teammate get so lucky? Shouldn't he, as the older one of the two, be the one to receive the lap dance? Charles, George, Alex and Pierre were busy filming the whole thing for their girlfriends, while also enjoying the show. Yuki as well enjoyed the show, while snacking on some crisps. All of them were so intrudged that they let out some noise of complaint when the show ended. After a moment, George stated: "Thank fuck that Carlos is sick today", receiving nods from the others.

[sauronxgaladriel]

Haladriel Library

Saurondriel/Haladriel Fanfic Recommendations. Some of these stories could fit into multiple categories. If you have any more recommendations feel free to add them!

Marriage

Shadow-Bride by eye_of_a_cat

Bridesprice by FormerlyIR (Irony_Rocks), Irony_Rocks 

Poison & Wine by Coraleeveritas

Galadriel takes longer to discover Sauron's identity

no matter how many skies have fallen by stitchingatthecircuitboard

A man is a god in ruins by eye_of_a_cat

Queen of the Southlands by FormerlyIR

Galadriel Says Yes

The House That Fire Built by Ready_For_The_Laughing_Gas

dig up the bones (but leave the soul alone) by Wyrd_Syster

Gilded by eye_of_a_cat

And white winter, on its knees by eye_of_a_cat

The Trials of Mairon by EllieCarina

Mortal Laws by Helholden

Canon Divergence/Reimagining of S1 and onwards

I could be your king by cliffdiving

The Tides of Fate by fireheart321

In Case of Defeat, Break Glass by eastwynds

that i may rise and stand, o'erthrow me by mortaltemples

Five times Halbrand's secret got revealed by eye_of_a_cat

Across That Fine Line by MyrsineMezzo

Instruments of Salvation by Scriberated

a fair form by properhaunt

Autocorrelation by EisforEverything

The Return of the Queen by Nenya Business (Cec_Jo)

A Feast of Starlight by TheLightofArwyn

Supernatural Creature AU

should have known better by Nenya Business (Cec_Jo) (Witch/Demon AU)

Storm Tides & Weaving Threads by elssiie (Siren AU)

just a taste by stardustspell (Vampire AU)

Haladriel meet before TROP

Spark, Ignite, Burn by cliffdiving

our souls were made from the stars by silverwing12 (Deleted)

Necessity's Bargain by Scriberated

Though the Gods and the Years Relent, Shall Be by Helholden

determination is the cure (for longing) by downtheroadandupthehill

where the spirit meets the bones by kangaroopaws

people throw rocks at things that shine by ophidion

Hades Persephone Vibes

Beasts of the Hill and Serpents of the Den by Helholden

a dust like thine by mortaltemples

One-Shots

Unsired by shady-swan-jones (sweetleaf), sweetleaf 

the light of his eyes by eastwynds

now dark, now glittering by mortaltemples

In the Shadow of Your Heart by mzladybird

i cannot heave my heart into my mouth by fallofrain

this love is glowing in the dark by Orcas86

we could just kiss, like real people do by justatinycollector 

a millstone around my neck by mortaltemples

the nameless by bimmyou

Pregnancy/Parenthood

Light and Power by chronicallyexhaustedwriter

shining like a fiery beacon by ophidion

A Blessing of Eru by Scriberated

Smut

A Stressed Tiding by FormerlyIR (Irony_Rocks), Irony_Rocks

this love is glowing in the dark by Orcas86

Buried in Bone by Invisible_Hand

Riptide by makeshiftdraco

Perfection by Nenya Business (Cec_Jo)

like magnets work, only drawn to thee by audreystark

To Follow the Light by Thrill_of_hope

A Moment of Honesty by Draconic_Grace

Dream Within a Dream by Nenya Business (Cec_Jo)

bind yourself to me by Nenya Business (Cec_Jo)

Dream Within a Dream by Nenya Business (Cec_Jo)

Lady of the Seas by eye_of_a_cat

Dark/Dead Dove

all your pain will end here by poeticmemory

Land of Enchantment by EisforEverything

perle by emphemeron

Glanduin Kiss by Anonymous

[saphronethaleph]

The Rest, is Awkward Silence

"Now cracks a noble heart," Horatio said, his arms holding Hamlet as Denmark's prince slowly slipped away. "Good night, sweet prince. And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."

 He slowly let his dear friend go, then turned to see as two men entered the chamber.

 "...what am I seeing?" asked Fortinbras, the crown prince of Norway. "What was it you were saying?"

 "I was offering a lament for my friend, Hamlet," Horatio explained.

 "Right," the other man said – the English ambassador, if Horatio recalled right. "And not for the… hold on… three other corpses in the room?"

 "It has been…" Horatio began, then paused. "...a day."

 "Then explain, please," Fortinbras asked. "Because I hesitate to hear what could have caused this to happen."

 "Well," Horatio said. "To give you the very brief summary… Hamlet is dead because he was stabbed by Laertes with a poisoned sword."

 "Who's Laertes?" the ambassador asked.

 Horatio pointed. "That's him over there. He was also stabbed, by Hamlet, with the same poisoned sword."

 "Right," Fortinbras said. "And… how exactly did that happen?"

 "Well, the poisoned sword was given to him by Claudius, I think," Horatio explained. "Who's also dead. Over there."

 "Oh, that's a shame," the ambassador muttered. "I was coming here to tell him that his instructions were fulfilled – Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead."

 Fortinbras blinked, glancing at the ambassador. "Seriously?"

 "King Claudius asked us to, and I was hoping that England would be rewarded for it," the ambassador mumbled. "They delivered a letter that said, please kill whoever is carrying this letter."

 "That's a letter Hamlet was supposed to deliver to you," Horatio informed him. "But Hamlet worked out what was going on, and he swapped the letters around."

 Fortinbras was starting to look a bit overwhelmed.

 "So… I've still got some questions," he admitted. "Firstly, what about that lady over there?"

 "That's Queen Gertrude!" the ambassador gasped. "Did she get stabbed by a poisoned sword, too?"

 "No, this time it was wine," Horatio answered. "Claudius offered it to Hamlet, who refused, and then the Queen drank it… and, that was poisoned too. That's half of how Hamlet killed Claudius, and I offered to drink the wine as well to follow my friend. But he told me that someone had to be around to explain what had happened."

 Fortinbras and the ambassador exchanged glances.

 "...I'm not sure you're doing a very good job, but you are doing it," the prince conceded. "So why did all these people want one another dead?"

 "I don't think anyone wanted the Queen dead," Horatio said, counting on his fingers. "She drank the wine by mistake, I think. Claudius wanted Hamlet dead because Hamlet had worked out that Claudius assassinated King Hamlet with poison in the ear."

 "Oh, this isn't getting better, is it?" Fortinbras muttered. "That explains why Prince Hamlet wanted Claudius dead, I suppose… but it was Laertes who killed Hamlet, wasn't it? And how on earth did they both get stabbed with the same sword?"

 "They were in a duel," Horatio explained. "Laertes knew the sword was poisoned… yes, he must have done, from what he said before he died."

 The ambassador groaned.

 "I'm going to regret asking this," he said. "But why were they in a duel?"

 "Laertes blamed Hamlet for the deaths of his sister and father," Horatio admitted, somewhat reluctantly.

 "Horatio," Fortinbras said, almost gently. "I know you're in mourning for your friend, but… I'm standing in a room with two people Hamlet killed, and he sent two more of them to be executed by the English king. At this point I'm expecting Laertes to be right."

 Horatio looked uncomfortable.

 "He didn't kill Ophelia?" he tried. "Though he did insult her, tell her she was a whore, and run off after killing Polonius. So she committed suicide."

 Seeing the expressions on the other two men, he waved his hands. "He didn't mean it! He was pretending to be insane."

 "Pretending?" the ambassador repeated.

 "All right, what about Polonius?" Fortinbras asked. "I dread to think… from context, that must be the father of Laertes."

 Horatio looked embarrassed.

 "Hamlet stabbed him through the arras," he said.

 The ambassador winced.

 "Sounds painful," he said.

 "An arras is a tapestry hanging," Fortinbras pointed out. "But… all right, why?"

 "Polonius was spying on him," Horatio explained. "Hamlet may have thought that Polonius was Claudius."

 Fortinbras sighed, rubbing his temples.

 "As God is my witness, I'm not sure I want to win the election for this place," he said. "But I think I've got the best legal claim."

 He paused.

 "So… how exactly did you find out that Claudius killed King Hamlet?" he asked. "I've not heard any such thing, but you sound very sure."

 "...Hamlet saw a ghost," Horatio said. "And I'll admit, that sounds bad. But he did a test to prove it! He wrote a play."

 Fortinbras groaned.

 "Didn't you say you were offering a lament for your friend?" he said.

 "It was very meaningful," Horatio defended himself. "I said, may hosts of angels sing you to your sleep."

 Fortinbras and the ambassador blinked.

 "Isn't he directly responsible for the deaths of about six people?" the ambassador asked, somewhat hesitantly. "I'm not sure if you have a different theology here in Denmark, but I wouldn't exactly expect angels to be involved…"

[trulyumai]

a fire set loose upon blood

—paring: Messmer / wife! reader

synopsis: with queen marika learning of her sons marriage, she called him to the capital, forbidding the man to marry into such a low family. Messmer became angry, the flames taking over his will once more.

—warnings: talking down, violence, light cussing.

The grand hall of the royal palace was alive with a murmur of anticipation, the high vaulted ceilings echoing with the sound of nobles and courtiers preparing for the evening’s festivities. Gold and white drapes adorned the walls, their opulence a stark contrast to the underlying tension that simmered within the room. At the head of the hall, the throne loomed, a symbol of Queen Marika’s unyielding authority.

The siblings were no where to be seen. For why would they show when Messmer needed them so?

Messmer stood in the center of the room, his regal attire starkly contrasting with the turmoil that brewed beneath his composed exterior. His eye, dark and stormy, fixed intently on the figure of his mother as she ascended the throne with a grace that belied the iron will behind her serene facade.

Queen Marika’s presence was commanding, her poise a perfect blend of royal dignity and maternal authority. Her eyes, however, were steely as they regarded her son, her posture unyielding as if the weight of the crown had become an even greater burden in recent times.

“Messmer,” she began, her voice carrying the crisp authority of a queen used to having her commands followed without question. “I have called you here to discuss a matter of utmost importance.”

Messmer’s gaze remained steady, though a flicker of anger danced in his eye. “Speak then, Mother. I am here, and thee will listen.”

Marika’s expression remained impassive, but there was a subtle tightness around her lips that betrayed her unease. “It has come to my attention that you continue to spend time with that… woman, the one of whom I have spoken before. Her status is beneath the dignity of the royal family. She is not of noble blood, and her presence in your life could compromise the integrity of our lineage.”

The words struck Messmer like a physical blow, his face darkening with a mixture of anger and hurt. “Are you referring to my wife?”

Queen Marika nodded, her gaze unwavering. “Yes, my child. Her origins are humble, and her social standing is not fitting for a prince of this realm. I have tolerated your infatuation for too long. It is time to end this folly.”

Messmer’s hands clenched into fists, the tension in his jaw evident as he struggled to maintain his composure. “You cannot simply dictate my heart, Mother. My wife is not only kind and virtuous, but she has shown me a love that transcends titles and lineage. She is more noble in spirit than many of those you deem worthy.”

Marika’s eyes narrowed, a cold edge to her voice. “Love is a luxury we cannot afford, Messmer. The duties and responsibilities of royalty must come before personal desires. You must consider the future of the kingdom, the alliances we must secure. Your marriage must strengthen our position, not diminish it.”

“Strengthen?” Messmer’s voice rose, a mix of frustration and defiance. “Are you suggesting that my happiness, my very heart, should be sacrificed for political gain? This is not merely a matter of alliances or appearances. It is about who I choose to spend my life with, who I love.”

Marika’s gaze remained steely, her voice a firm command. “You will cease this association with her immediately. You are a prince, a knight, and you must act according to your station. You are not to see her again. This is a royal decree.”

The finality in her voice was unmistakable, yet Messmer’s anger flared, his body trembling with the force of his emotions. “A decree?” he spat, his voice laden with contempt. “You would reduce my feelings to a mere decree? I will not comply, Mother. I refuse to end my relationship with her I will not let you dictate my heart.”

The room fell into a tense silence, the murmurs of the court dying away as Messmer’s declaration reverberated through the hall. Queen Marika’s expression hardened further, her regal demeanor unshaken despite the challenge posed by her son.

“Do not be a fool, Messmer,” she said, her tone cold and cutting. “You are treading dangerous waters. Your disobedience will not go unnoticed, and the consequences will be severe. You cannot defy your mother, your queen, without facing repercussions.”

“I am aware of the consequences,” Messmer shot back, his voice unwavering. “But I will not live a lie or endure a life devoid of love for the sake of appearances. If you choose to punish me for this, so be it. But know this: I will not abandon my wife. I will stand by her, no matter the cost.”

Marika’s face flushed with a mix of anger and disbelief. “You are speaking recklessly. You do not understand the gravity of your actions. This is not merely about personal happiness—it is about the stability of our entire realm. Your defiance threatens the very fabric of our dynasty.”

Messmer took a step forward, his eyes blazing with resolve. “And what of my own happiness? What of my right to choose the one I love? You speak of stability, but it is your rigid adherence to tradition that threatens to unravel everything. I am not merely a pawn to be moved about for political gain. I am your son, and I demand to be treated as such.”

Marika’s hands clenched on the armrests of her throne, her knuckles white with the strain. The silence in the hall was oppressive, the weight of the confrontation palpable. Messmer’s words hung in the air, a challenge to the very authority his mother held so dearly.

“You are making a grave mistake, Messmer,” Marika said, her voice strained but resolute. “You will regret this defiance. The path you choose will lead to ruin, and you will have only yourself to blame.”

“Then let it be so,” Messmer replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. “I will accept whatever consequences come my way. But I will not forsake my love. If that is my price, then so be it.”

…

“You persist in your defiance, Messmer,” Marika’s voice was cold and unyielding. “You dare to disregard my decree and associate yourself with that woman, Her presence is an affront to the dignity of this royal house.”

Messmer’s anger was palpable. “You cannot dictate my heart, Mother. I refuse to end my marriage. She has been my steadfast companion, and her worth is beyond the constraints of royal lineage.”

Marika’s eyes narrowed, her resolve hardening. “Then you leave me no choice. If you will not heed my words, I shall act to preserve the integrity of our realm.”

With a decisive gesture, Marika signaled to the guards of grace stationed by the grand hall’s entrance. Her voice rang out with unyielding authority. “Seize his so called wife. Remove her from this hall at once. Her presence is a threat to the stability of our kingdom.”

The guards, their expressions set in grim determination, advanced towards his wife, who stood frozen by the window. Her eyes darted between Messmer and the encroaching soldiers, fear etched across her face.

“No!” Messmer’s voice erupted in a raw, desperate roar. “Stay away from her!”

As the guards closed in, Messmer’s fury ignited. He drew his staff with a swift, practiced motion, but the weapon was not his only tool of wrath. With a surge of energy, Messmer’s eyes flared with an intense, fiery glow. Flames erupted from his hands, casting an ominous light across the hall.

The guards, taken aback by the sudden burst of fire, scrambled to shield themselves. But Messmer’s flames were relentless, sweeping through the grand hall with a ferocious intensity. The once-stately room was soon engulfed in a torrent of scorching heat and blinding light.

The flames roared and crackled, consuming the opulent decorations and gilded walls. The guards, now caught in the inferno, screamed in terror as the fire turned their armor into searing metal. Messmer fought through the chaos, his sword still flashing as he cut down those who tried to escape the blaze.

“Messmer, no!” His wife’s cry was barely audible over the roar of the fire. “Darling— please!”

Messmer’s face, illuminated by the flames, was a mask of determined fury. “If they will not let us be, then I will take everything from them. No more will they control our lives!”

With each passing moment, the fire spread beyond the grand hall, seizing hold of the palace’s wooden structures and tapestries. The heat was unbearable, the air thick with smoke and ash. Marika, her regal composure shattered, could only watch in stunned disbelief as her palace was reduced to a blazing inferno.

“Cease this madness!” Marika’s voice, though commanding, was nearly lost in the cacophony of destruction. “Stop him! Put out the fire!”

But it was too late. The flames, fueled by Messmer’s unchecked rage, surged outward, consuming the palace’s grandiose architecture. The inferno spread through the corridors and chambers, its heat radiating through the once-proud halls.

Messmer, his fury unabated, moved his wife towards the palace’s exit. The once-majestic capital, now visible beyond the burning palace, was a stark contrast to the chaos within. The fire, driven by Messmer’s rage, was spreading rapidly through the streets, turning the capital into a scene of total devastation.

Outside, the capital’s inhabitants fled in panic as the fire spread through the buildings. The cries of the fleeing people mixed with the crackling of the flames, creating a harrowing symphony of destruction. Messmer and his little wife, amidst the chaos, made their way through the burning streets, their path lit by the inferno that consumed the city.

“Messmer, we need to leave!” Her voice was urgent, her face pale with fear. “This fire—it’s destroying everything!”

Messmer’s eyes, filled with a mix of anger and sorrow, remained fixed on the burning city. “They will understand the cost of crossing me, of belittling me and having me sit by the shadows!” he said, his voice a low growl. “No longer will they dictate our fate.”

The inferno continued to ravage the capital, the flames reflecting in Messmer’s eyes as he and his wife made their way out of the city. The once-thriving center of the kingdom was now a smoldering ruin, the fire a testament to Messmer’s wrath and his refusal to be controlled.

As they reached the outskirts of the burning capital, Messmer and the girl paused, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. The sight of the destruction was both overwhelming and sobering. The palace, now a ruin of charred stone and ashes, was a grim reminder of the cost of their defiance.

Messmer, his anger slowly giving way to a profound sense of loss, turned towards the shaking girl. “I am sorry for this,” he said, his voice filled with regret. “This was not what I intended. I wanted only to protect you.”

her eyes reflecting the flames’ glow, took his hand. “We will— will be okay,” she said, her voice steady despite the devastation around them. “We will find a way to move forward. I trust you to protect us.”

Messmer nodded, his resolve tempered by the weight of their actions. The future was uncertain, and the path ahead was fraught with challenges. But amidst the ruins of the capital and the ashes of their past, they found solace in their shared determination and the strength of their bond.

The capital, once a symbol of royal might, now lay in ruins—a testament to the power of defiance and the price of love. As Messmer and his wife looked out over the burning city, they knew that their journey was far from over. The flames of rebellion had transformed their lives, and the road ahead would be shaped by the choices they made in the aftermath of the inferno.

The destruction of the kingdom’s heart was a stark reminder of the consequences of defiance and the price of love. The future lay before them, uncertain and fraught with danger, but Messmer and his wife faced it together, bound by their shared determination and the strength of their affection.

Now, there was only one place they could hide.

To the lands in between; the shadow realm that hides beneath the grace.

[epicfroggz]

Age of Shadow

(This is a fan-made Messmer questline and ending, not based on cut content or anything of the sort. Source is: I made it up. Thanks to @purpupa for helping with some of the items, inspiring me, and listening to my crazed ramblings at the midnight hours. Very long post ahead, enjoy!)

After his fight, particularly after the Hornsent has left his arena, you will be able to locate Messmer at the entrance to the keep’s infirmary, near the West Rampart site of grace. He will be standing in thought before these three chairs:

Messmer has donned a cloak made of Shadow and patched himself up using black gauze (see drawing above). When prompted, he says:

“Hello, Tarnished. There art three chairs here, but none fit me. That seemeth an oversight, does it not?”

Messmer does not turn to face you when he speaks. When prompted again, he says:

“… Thou hast not walked away yet. Doth thee needeth something?”

>Ask how he is alive

pleasantly “Serpents art exceedingly difficult to kill. Believe me, I have tried. Is that all?”

>Ask why he is not attacking

“I had underestimated thee, Tarnished. Thee hast strength befitting a lord. I shouldst not have doubted my mother.” pause “The serpent didst not expect a lightless creature like itself to be elevated to such a standing. It appears things hath changed in mine absence. I have much to learn.”

>leaving dialogue

“Tarnished, I have a request, if thou’rt up for it. I hath misplaced some notes of mine, a recipe for a particular physick. If thee bringeth it to me, thee shalt be rewarded. Farewell, for now.”

The key item Messmer’s Notes can be found in the Specimen Storehouse, near the Storehouse, Loft site of grace. It requires climbing up the catwalks and dropping down to an area with bookshelves.

Messmer’s Notes - Barely legible cursive scrawl written by Messmer the Impaler. Details a recipe for a medicine once derived from one of his mother’s blessings. It appears to be based off a childhood memory, with a few added ingredients “for taste”.

When you return to the infirmary, Messmer will be kneeling in the “O, Mother” gesture before a shrine to Marika that he has set up, the three chairs neatly pushed out of the way. When prompted, he retracts his hands, and says:

“Hello again, Tarnished. Didst thee findeth the recipe?”

You may then give him Messmer’s Notes. Alternatively, you may choose to give him a Blessing of Marika if there is one in your inventory.

>Offer Messmer’s notes

“Oh! I thank thee. Here, thy compensation.” gives you a Rune of an Unsung Hero

>Offer Blessing of Marika

“Oh, this is… Where didst thee get this? Nay, ‘tis not my place to ask. My sincerest gratitude, Tarnished.” gives you a Marika’s Rune

You may now ask Messmer more questions:

>Ask about the jarfolk

“Ah. What remains of my mother’s people. I hath tried desperately, for aeons it seemeth, to ease their suffering, yet… At what point is keeping a patient alive no longer in the interest of their wellbeing? At what point does it becometh insanity?“ shakily “I still feeleth as though I hast failed them…”

The second question only unlocks after you have defeated both Rellana and Gaius. If you have not, when you leave and travel back to the West Rampart site of grace, you will be greeted by the sound of Messmer weeping. Walking within ten feet of him or breaking objects in the room will cause him to stop. When prompted, he says:

trying to sound intimidating but holding back tears “Begone, Tarnished.” shakily “Messmer does not wish to speak to thee at this moment…”

Leaving and traveling back to the West Rampart site of grace will let you choose the second question:

>About your friends…

“I knoweth, Tarnished. They were in thy way, were they not? Rellana, and Gaius… I shall grant them a hero’s burial. May they returneth to the Erdtree yet, even if that is a vain hope in this land.” quietly “My friends, forgive me… For I have availed you nothing…”

>leaving dialogue

“Tarnished, thee can travel to the Lands Between, can thee not? I have another request for thee.”

A cutscene plays wherein Messmer carefully pulls a snake from his eye socket. During it, he says: “After shedding the seal, I recalled abilities lost to me. Some wonderful, some terrible, some… Gah! Hah… For thee, Tarnished. On thy travels, I bid thee well.”

Thus he will grant you this key item:

Juvenile Serpent - One of the base serpent’s progeny, pulled from the eye of Messmer the Impaler. Writhes around often. Stares longingly at the world, or perhaps stares hungrily at you. Who can tell? “Do take care of it, wilt thee?”

After reluctantly accepting the serpent, when you travel back to any grace in the Lands Between that Melina can spawn at, there will be a new option to Speak to Melina. She will say:

“What in the world is that creature you travel with? It seems to like me… You are exceedingly warm, little snake.” pause “It appears hungry. I can feed it some runes, if you would like?”

>Accept (-100 runes)

“Snakes are said to be traitors to the Erdtree, but we too are walking the path of heresy. Let’s get you fed, little one… There. Do tell, where did you find it?” pause “A long lost demigod pulled it out of his eye? Have you been afflicted with madness? No, you are entirely sincere. Huh. Well, it seems harmless enough.”

The serpent must be fed one more time to continue the quest. Speak to Melina at any grace and she will say:

“Hello. The little one hungers once again. Would you like to offer some runes?”

>Accept (-100 runes)

“I am surprised at its good nature, though I have witnessed it spit a red flame when angered. It is impossible not to question what sort of demigod it came from…”

An interaction occurs wherein Messmer materializes in a shadowy haze—not unlike the spirit fog through which Melina appears to you. He introduces himself: “Ah, so it was thee feeding the wee serpent? I knew it smelled like kin… I am Messmer, and thee?”

dumbfounded “Melina?”

“I see. Melina. Sister of mine, I knoweth of the kindling that smolders within thee.” he summons a small flame in his hand to show her “There is no need to burn thy self again. The Tarnished and I shall see it through.”

After this, the description of the Juvenile Serpent item updates:

Juvenile Serpent - One of the base serpent’s progeny, pulled from the eye of Messmer the Impaler. Prefers the company of the kindling maiden, as her touch feels like home. It will not bite the hand that feeds it. Serves as an anchor between the Lands Between and the veiled Land of Shadow.

(Optional) Taking the serpent in this state to the Church of Vows site of grace allows you to choose the new option, Speak to Messmer, which will summon him in shadowy spirit:

“Thou hast met Miriel? We became acquainted when Rellana once brought me here… ‘Tis a burning memory now, but the pastor is a wise beast indeed.” he looks to the sky “‘Heresy is not native to the world. All things can be conjoined’. We have forgotten that. We have forgotten ourselves, what we held most dear. To repair shattered Gold, I must layeth bare the ugliest truths of this world, those which I have been the bearer of for so long—I must mend it with Shadow. For there is no light that exists without the dark.”

Taking the serpent to the Forge of the Giants site of grace allows you to choose Speak to Messmer:

“Thou hast done well to come this far, Tarnished. Long have the prophets uttered of this moment. ‘Tis not lightly I choose to fulfill it, but… I wouldst prefer to give my men the option to return home, if nothing else. Art thou prepared to commit a cardinal sin, with me?”

>Accept

A cutscene plays, in which the Erdtree and Scadutree are burned at once in Messmer’s flame. Messmer speaks:

“Tarnished, hold my kindling aloft. From here, I shall do my part… O, Erdtree, and Scadutree both, ye shall burn together. For the sake of the new Lord, and a new world, mended.”

You continue your journey to Farum Azula and then back to Leyndell, Capital of Ash. Sir Gideon Ofnir will have access to the incantation “Messmer’s Orb” in his fight (why wasn’t this a thing already???). At the Queen’s Bedchamber site of grace, you must choose to Speak to Messmer one last time:

“Ah… Thou art close. Within the Erdtree, I intend to confront my mother. If it be true she has become infirm, and lost all sense of self… Then I shalt taketh her place. The Two Fingers rejected me long ago, but I am yet capable. If it cometh to this, will thee be my Lord?”

>Accept

“I thank thee. We have come a long way, Tarnished.” small laugh “When it cometh to thee, I find I have no regrets. Take this, and when the bell tolls, summon me forth. To stand before my mother once again.”

Thus you will be granted this key item:

Mending Rune of the Abyssal Prince - Mending rune gestated by Messmer the Impaler. Used to restore the fractured Elden Ring when brandished by the Elden Lord. Formed of a swirling mass of serpents, and the base serpent biting its own tail. It will embed a Shadow lost back into the Golden Order, restoring balance. The “base” in the base serpent’s name refers both to its nature and the place it once belonged, at the roots of the Erdtree where light does not reach.

After defeating Radagon and Elden Beast, you will have the option to summon Messmer from a shadowy summon sign on the ground, giving this final cutscene:

“‘Those who walk alongside flame shall one day meet the road of Destined Death’… Yet, it seemeth my road hast led me back to thee.”

“Mother… Thee may rest now. I shall put thee, and this world, back together again…”

Messmer gently gives Marika’s head to you, and you place it upon her body, the Elden Ring becoming mended with the abyssal rune. The scene lingers on her as the shadows in the background deepen, and as a squelching sound grows in volume, soon thunderous. From the darkness suddenly emerges the abyssal serpent to swallow her whole, its red eyes burning against the dark:

The scene cuts to black.

Messmer narrates the final scene, showcasing the now physical Erdtree grafted unto its Scadu counterpart: “The fallen leaves tell a story… Of a Tarnished who became Elden Lord... And the serpent that became a god. A god that ushered in a gentle dark, so that this shattered world may heal.

So that the light of Gold can shine ever more brilliantly, against an Age of Shadow."

[simp-ly-writes]

The Comment Section (pt.3)

─────── · · A Social Media AU Fic

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x gn!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: The drama continues and eventually cascades into other youtube comment sections. At this point, you and Spencer have no choice but to speak up.

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, jealous!Spencer, angst, attempt at comedy, more angst, light swearing, fluff, mutual pinning, irl celebrities.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | PART TWO | PART 3.5 | PART FOUR

─ · · A/N: I hope you all are having as much fun reading this as I am writing this! :D

EDIT: sorry, just noticed a sentence didn't save near the end: fixed it now!

─────── · ·

Smosh Live: (name) is going to Hollywood with Celebrity Guests Glen and Sydney!

Smosh Pit ✓ [Subscribed] Like 132k | Dislike | ... 8.29M subscribers 1.43M views 5 days ago #10 on trending (name) and their new costars act out your stories. click to read more

2,983 Comments

username27 5 days ago WHOEVER IS ON SMOSH PR NEEDS TO GET FIRED RIGHT NOW. DO THEY NOT READ THE COMMENTS OR CHAT!!??? username49 5 days ago Never in my wildest dreams would I think this collab would happen!!! username66 5 days ago ALEX I LOVE YOU. username01 1 day ago Stay strong (youshipname) shippers! We will not falter to ANY Hollywood Heartthrobs! Spencer come get your man/woman! username35 30 minutes ago (edited) I have no idea who these people are but they make (name) sound a lot funnier! Edit: this sounds way worse than I imagined. username14 3 days ago Okay, I am a major Glen x Sydney shipper but that chemistry with (name) has me looking the other direction... username33 just now So obvious that people did not watch the whole stream. Spencer ended up dropping off more material for them to read and he just stands there, hands gripping the papers, eyes fixed on the couch and then leaves as if nothing happened BEFORE Alex came in and "fixed" it. ▼ 100 replies ↳ username66 just now HOLY SHIT! This makes it even better RAHHHHHH> * [this comment has been flagged for interfering with Youtube's Community Guidelines; for more information press HERE] ↳ username51 just now Jealous Spencer was not on my Smosh 2024 Bingo Card. ↳ username08 just now (edited) I have been reading wayyy to many romance novels but I was screaming at my screen for them to kiss at that moment. *correction for Spencer and (name) to kiss you weirdos!! ↳ username17 just now God I love how Alex just picks up their arm and then walks back off with a thumbs up towards the camera. When you know- you know~

username20 1 hour ago (name) if you ever read this, can you please not take their offer and go out with Sydney? You and Spencer belong together, period. username51 just now That smirk Sydney sent to the couch has my knees weak, how did everyone else act so normal?!?!? username40 just now So proud of you (name)! no one deserves this opportunity more than you, I have been following your work for years now; will be there opening night for sure!

─────── · ·

We took (name) from Smosh

Rom-Com Interviews Plus ✓ [Subscribe] Like 10k | Dislike | ... 10.1M subscribers 2.4M views 4 days ago your favorite two actors interview (name) from Smosh on their upcoming film together. get all the details and find out when and where you can get tickets for the release! click to read more

7,003 Comments

username79 4 days ago Another Glen and Sydney rom-com? count me in!!! username01 4 days ago OVER MY DEAD FUCKING BODY YOU DID NOT STEAL THEE (name) FROM SMOSH, FROM MY BOY SPENCER. ▼ 34 replies ↳ username08 4 days ago @ spennser!!! Be a director and fix this! We are sick of it! ↳ username87 3 days ago Okay but (name) is their own person outside of work??? Like there is little he can do if they don't want to talk... ↳ username20 1 hour ago Well... with the amount of threats on Twitter and across all Smosh socials now... I think they have little choice now, people are LIVID (me included). ↳ username87 just now But what in the para-social bullshit is this guys? Like c'mon, who gives a damn if they are dating or not- they are ACTORS! It's their literal job to have chemistry on screen ↳ username33 just now Ummm, actually! Spencer and (name) were seen together long before they both were on camera. Sure, they both have some experience with performance work but the hundreds of photos of them spending time outside of work. [Ex. vacations, pet-sitting, and dining out]. Tell us that is not just a performance!! ↳ username33 just now OH AND don't even get me started about the "similar" shirts and hoodies they "both" have... ↳ username33 just now Also... @ spennser!!! @ spennser!!! @ spennser!!! @ spennser!!! RESPOND NOW. username49 2 days ago Great video! Can't wait to see (name) taking the next step in their career; a youtuber in a blockbuster movie- never thought it would happen! Keep up the great content! username51 1 hour ago What is with the Smosh community? Like who knew they were so toxic. Stay away from Glen and Sydney- they did nothing to you!! username19 30 minutes ago This is all getting out of hand now, like- downright ridiculous. What the Hell is going on at Smosh that has it spreading to other channels? username74 30 minutes ago Great interview! Don't know who this (name) person is but its great that they did so much charity work outside the office Rom-Com Interviews Plus ✓ just now Hello everyone, we have read through the enormous amount of feedback you have provided us and we will not be changing the title of this video. To clarify to those who might have skipped through some parts, (name) is NOT leaving Smosh but are going to be the co-star in Glen and Sydneys newest film together, coming out this holiday season! (name) is still very much content in their current position at Smosh and we here at Rom-Com kindly ask for all of our fans, the actors fans, and the fans of Smosh to allow everyone their privacy and to not further engage with hostility. ▼ 2 replies ↳ spennser just now Like hell they were leaving Smosh. * [this comment has been deleted on request of the user] ↳ username01 just now I saw that sir!!

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BREAKING: (name) seen in the background of Spencers recent stream!!

(Yourshipname) Updates [Subscribe] Like | Dislike | ... 1.12K subscribers 500k views 2 days ago click to expand

500 Comments

username01 just now I AM NOT FREAKING OUT- YOU ARE, OKAY?!>!>? cough, cough... ermm, I mean... it does awfully look a lot like them... username77 2 days ago Does not look like (name), has to be another friend, girlfriend maybe? sister? username04 1 day ago (edited) On twitter, Smosh Cast just tweeted that Spencer and (name) are scheduled for this weeks talk- makes me hopeful! ▼ 5 replies ↳ username01 1 day ago OMG REALLY?? ↳ username11 4 hours ago Can someone confirm this? ↳ username17 30 minutes ago Its real. Check it out: twitter.com/smoshcast12345. ↳ username11 just now Thank you! Sent from my iphone. ↳ username14 just now If this is not a video of them making out for a full hour then I am not accepting the apology. My heart has hurt too much BC of these two idiots.

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Every Apology... Ever.

Smosh Cast ✓ [Subscribed] Like 128k | Dislike | ... 582K subscribers 488k views 2 days ago #7 on trending (name) and Spencer swear this is the only apology video they're ever going to have to make. click to read more

3,421 Comments

⚲ Pinned by Creator SmoshCast ✓ 2 days ago Hi everyone, Spencer and (name) here. For those who don't have time to watch the full episode today. Please note that we are still friends and have been working hard on new content both separately and together, stay tuned and remember to drink water! ▼ 769 replies ↳ username03 2 days ago Will do boss! ↳ username54 2 days ago You guys dating yet?? username66 2 days ago Someone pinch me! A full hour of just (name) and Spencer? I think I have arrived in heaven! ▼ 18 replies ↳ username69 2 days ago Toasters and bathtubs never looked like a tempting combo till now. ↳ username24 2 days ago Get help please @ username69

username56 30 minutes ago It is a monuments day to be a (yourshipname) supporter, I can't wait for the besties to be back together! (yourshipname)updates ✓ Just got inspired from this video, will be making an edits reel stat! ▼ 199 replies ↳ username04 1 days ago YES PLEASE, FEED MY DELUSIONS.

username05 1 day ago (edited) 0:17 (name): "To start off, I am still very much single and am still employed by Smosh as a cast member and producer. I would also like to apologize publicly to Spencer, the team, and the fans for being so distant lately. I have been finding it hard to manage my work here at Smosh with my outside projects. My stress and mental health was affecting more than just myself, and I came to find too late those who I had hurt in the process of my self-destruction. Which is why I took a step back..." ▼ 5 replies ↳ username11 1 days ago Yes, you clap back (name)! ↳ username14 30 minutes ago I love you (name). But why did you do those interviews if you were so stressed? ↳ username12 15 minutes ago @ username14 They were probably booked before it all happened. You know PR tours and all that. ↳ username14 just now Okay, that makes more sense now. ↳ username77 10 minutes ago Yeah, not single for long! I swear if Spencer is gonna do nothing, I am going to step up.

username33 4 hours ago 1:01 Spencer: "It makes me happy to see everyone who supports (name) and I both on and off-screen. For those who need clarification though, (name) and I have never and are not currently dating one another. We are best friends, simply put and we forgave one another right after. All I ask- we ask is for you to please respect our privacy and relationship as well as those connected to us." ▼ 12 replies ↳ username43 30 minutes ago (edited) Spencer forgot to include, "at this time" to the dating part ;) It's okay sweetie, we know whats really going on. username12 2 days ago I can't wait to see more of (names)'s projects outside of Smosh! So funny to think we'll see them on the big screen now, those interviews with Glen and Sydney make so much more sense now! Take your time on making content, take care of yourself please, I can wait a bit longer. username17 30 minutes ago Still don't know how to feel about this. Sure I am happy they are still friends, but I just have too many questions left unanswered. Like Alex and the arm placement, that deleted comment under (name)'s interview with Glen and Sydney and them potentially sharing an apartment?? username39 just now HOLY SHIT, THEY ARE BRINGING BACK BORED AF AND NOBODY THOUGHT TO TELL ME??? username99 15 minutes ago Man I missed their banter and longing stares across the table. Nothin' hits harder than (yourshipname). username39 1 day ago Spencer looked so proud of (name) when they were telling us their dream of finally staring in a movie, and a large one at that. The stars in his eyes- I want that for me. username47 just now Everyone keeps talking about how Spencer should ask out (name) but like (name) could also do it too, they seem more likely to ask Spencer out themselves. IDK just makes me think that if they were to date, they would've done so already. Kinda loosing hope here... ▼ 2 replies ↳ username33 just now Don't ever loose hope! They are both still single, theres always a chance :) ↳ username01 just now I can FEEL they are the next Shayne x Courtney. They are following all the same landmarks, I would argue with even more chemistry. username33 1 hour ago Anyone else feel like (name) is taking a major downgrade somehow? They are going from rom-com main character here at Smosh to side-character, second love interest in a film. Kinda hoped that they would've starred in something else.

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─ · · A/N: alrighty! part 3 done, how we feeling about the slowburn and one-off pieces?- good I hope because I'm already working on some more hhahahhaha

─ · · TAGLIST: @lisiliely

[chaos0pikachu]

I don't care that Love in the Air had numerous sound problems and spent all their budget on (1) drone and hair ties for Payu when it has one of my all time favorite friend scenes in any BL where Sky platonically doms Rain in the middle of the day in the middle of fucking class in front of their friends, teachers, and the holy spirit for giving up his phone number to the hot rich asshole (Prapai) that Sky had a secret one night stand with where he broke Prapai's brain by riding the dick so well Megan Thee Stallion would clap in praise hallelujah making Prapai seek out Payu and Rain for Sky's phone number and by that point Rain is completely dicked down bad he's studying the scripture, he's setting up a pop up store, he's committed to being the best bratty bottom he can be and damnit Rain knows it's bros before hos except Rain wants to be the ho here and now he's in a dilemma!!! Dick or his bff's phone number and Rain read his options with his pussy okay???

so now Sky's got Rain on his knees, hands up hold up begging for forgiveness while their classmates are like, just another day of Sky domming Rain in public while we all rack up debt and draw our little houses and Rain's outright begging, & pleading & pouting with his baby doll eyes trying to channel e-girl sugar baby energy and Sky's like bugs bunny no.png and makes Rain sit there for another 30mins at penance cause he's been brat taming Rain since before Payu even spotted that pout he's a pro

who out here is doing it like them I ask you

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part six

summary: all the stars aligned, and it was you.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.7k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: i just finished writing s1, and we're halfway through! so in case anyone was wondering, s1 will have 12 parts :) i haven't started s2 yet but i am so excited to!!

series masterlist // playlist

Days passed, no sign of Coryo. The only reason you know he isn't dead is because Sejanus came and told you he would be alright. That didn't do much to quell your worries.

Selfishly, you were scared you wouldn't get to see him again. You knew you wouldn't, actually. Now you were truly alone. Just you and his blanket, the book he gave you, and the dress your mother made. And Sejanus Plinth, you supposed. None of the surviving tributes would even talk to you- not that you really felt like talking. Just reading. You've read and re-read Romeo and Juliet no less than three times since Coriolanus passed the book through the bars to you the night before you went into the arena.

"I know you asked for this, and it's a little early, but happy birthday." Coryo whispers, smiling as the dark of night encases the two of you into your own little world.

He hands you a small box, wrapped in parcel paper and complete with a ribbon made of some kind of knitting thread. You grin, taking it from his hand and carefully untying the bow, delicately pulling the paper apart where it's taped together so as not to rip it. A copy of Romeo and Juliet. Old, tattered, falling apart; well-loved.

"Oh, Coryo, you didn't have to give me anything. That's too sweet." You grin, immediately flipping through the pages despite the dark preventing you from seeing a single word. "Thank you."

"Of course." He says, watching only you as your eyes flick over the pages. What little light falls from the moon is reflected in your eyes, and he wouldn't dare look away.

"My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite." You say softly, and at first, he thinks you're talking to yourself until you look up at him. A small, almost shy smile fit perfectly onto your lips.

"You like it?" He asks, the answer obvious even to him.

"I love it."

You were his tribute. Not a friend, certainly not more, but as he reaches through the bars to let his fingers brush over your cheek all rational thought means nothing. He doesn't realize he's staring at your lips until you comment on it.

"Is this why you asked if I have a boyfriend?" You whisper, your natural smile returns, and he's quickly looking anywhere else. Your eyes, your hair, the spot where his fingertips meet your cheekbone just below your hairline. Anywhere else. "Because I know it wasn't on that list of questions."

He's quickly backtracking, dropping his hand. This was wrong and he knew it. "I, uh, Tigris made you some cake. It's not good, but it's the best we could do." He says, redirecting his attention to his bag as he pulls out the small paper bag.

You sit back, blushing furiously. "I'm sure it's delicious." You smile, and it comes across more nervously than you intended.

"Here." He hands it to you, and you gently place the book next to you on the ground so you don't get any crumbs on it. "I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

And just like that, he's gone.

You're grateful when you see Sejanus coming back with his bag of food and water. It had become some form of a routine, at this point. The citizens of the Capitol weren't allowed to bring you food anymore, he was the only one who did for you now that Coryo was gone, and now that his tribute had escaped as well.

"Sejanus." You smile, standing up as he gets closer.

"Y/N. Holding up okay?" He asks, a sad look behind his tired eyes. He looked almost as tired as you, you were sure, but you hadn't seen a mirror since you left your house before the reaping.

You sigh. "I'm holding up." You answer simply. Sejanus is the only person you feel comfortable being totally honest with, but at the same time, you don't want to because you know he already feels bad for what you're going through. He's the only one outside this cage who kind of understands. "How about you?"

"I'm alright." He shrugs, reaching into his bag and pulling out a sandwich for you. You could never get sick of these. "I also have salt, if it needs more of that." He hands you a small bag of table salt alongside it.

"Thank you." You grin, tucking the bag into your pocket incase you needed it. "Any news about Coryo?" You ask hopefully, taking a bite. You already feel your starvation-induced nausea fading away.

"Not really. He's recovering, though." Sejanus answers. "Are you ready for the interview tonight?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." You grin. "I was right, I didn't need the book. I already had the whole thing memorized, but it's been so lovely to get to read it again."

"It must be." He nods. "Gives you something to do."

You hum in agreement, looking around at the other tributes. No one is even moving much anymore. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

You look down at your sandwich while you think about how you want to word this. "Is Coryo..." No, that's not it. "I got the feeling that he actually cared for me. Is that true?"

"Coryo has never been one to tell anyone what he's thinking." Sejanus says, entirely unhelpfully. That's not his fault, though. "But if I had to guess, I would say yes."

"I'm just wondering because it's nice to have friends now. Here. At the end." You smile sadly before taking another bite. "And I was worried I had upset him."

"You? No." Sejanus shakes his head. "I don't think you could if you tried."

"Why's that?"

"Well... It's hard to explain. He's always been super focused on school, on the prize, but now, when it matters most, I feel like he's more focused on you and making sure you actually win." He tells you. "But, like I said, he wouldn't talk about it even if I asked him outright."

You nod. "Thank you, Sejanus. For always being honest with me."

"Of course. It's the very least I can do, all things considered."

"Can I ask you for one more favour?" You ask hopefully. "If not I understand, you must be quite busy."

"I have the rest of my life to be busy." He shakes his head. "What do you need?"

"Will you tell Coryo thank you, for me?"

"Yes. Of course." He agrees without hesitation.

"And do you have a pencil and paper?"

Sejanus headed home for a while and then back to the hospital after his visit with you, armed with your note in his pocket to pass on to Coryo. He was hoping he would be awake right now, he had been so on and off the last few days. More grumpy than normal, and Sejanus could tell it was driving him up the wall that he couldn't go see you. But the interviews had already started, so he would get to see you soon- even if it's just through the screen.

"Tigris." He whispers, pulling back the curtain as he sees the familiar girl sitting at his friend's side. She hadn't left her cousin most of the time he'd been bedridden, she was there every time Sejanus checked in.

"Oh, hello." She whispers, smiling at him. "He's still resting, but he's feeling a bit better today I think."

"That's good. I'm glad to hear it." Sejanus agrees, taking the seat next to her. "I went to see Y/N. She's eaten. She doesn't look good, though."

Tigris nods, returning her gaze to her sleeping cousin and pushing his hair away from his eyes. It's not like he needs to see, but she would do it anyway. Just to make sure he wouldn't be annoyed when he woke up. "He's been worrying about her. I can tell."

"She asked me if she did something to upset him. Has he said anything to you?"

"No, nothing." She shakes her head, lip jutting out at the confusing statement. Nothing at all would indicate to her that he was upset with you, but it's entirely possible that stuck in that cage day in and day out you could quickly become paranoid about who you could trust.

"Okay, good. That's what I told her anyway." He tries to be quiet as he speaks, but the whispering wakes his friend anyway.

Coryo's eyes fly open and he gasps, eyes landing on the two of them sitting in front of him.

"Coryo," Tigris says softly, a small, worried smile on her face.

"Y/N?" He asks, his voice husky from sleep. "Is she-"

"She's alive," Tigris promises, gently rubbing his arm, landing her hand on his and squeezing it gently.

"Is she hurt?"

"Not badly." Sejanus shakes his head. "A few decent cuts and bruises, but she'll be okay. I brought her some antibiotics the other day so nothing will get infected." You won't be okay, they both know that, but you certainly wouldn't be dying from the minor injuries you sustained in the rebel bombing.

He nods, slightly, trying to sit up. "How long was I sleeping? What did I miss?"

"Another tribute died from injuries," Sejanus replies. "Everyone is still scared. No one will go see them anymore, I haven't seen any of the other mentors there either. But I've been feeding her. She's okay."

Coryo nods, wincing at the pain in his back as he moves. The burn was bad, but apparently, it was healing well.

"Marcus is still missing. I haven't heard anything about him. They're hunting him but I still think he has a better chance out there than he would tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Coryo asks, rubbing his head with his free hand, Tigris still holding his other one. "They're still going ahead with the games?"

Sejanus just slightly shakes his head, looking away. Coryo knows that that is a yes.

"Oh no... Y/N.... She could've run," He mumbles. "But she saved me."

"I tried to convince her to. I did." Sejanus reminds him. "She wouldn't budge."

All heads turn as Lucky's voice on the TV catches their attention. "And now, our final tribute. I first met this young lady in the zoo not too long ago. From District Twelve, Y/N Y/L/N. Come on out here!"

Lucretius motions for you to step out onto the stage and you do, gently placing the book and the blanket you had brought with you on the floor in a neat pile before joining him.

"Lucretius." You smile. "It's good to see you." You're nervous in front of so many people, the audience in front of you is much larger than the small one you spoke in front of at the reaping, and being in front of a camera without Coryo by your side made you antsy.

"You as well, Darling. Now, I was told you had something you wanted to do for us so I'll just leave you to that. Charm us! Remember, the world is watching." He smiles, gently patting your shoulder before walking just out of view of the cameras. His statement was far from reassuring.

"Uhm..." You stare out at the audience, and suddenly you're scared you've forgotten the entire thing. You had to do well. For Coryo and his prize. He needed this. "I've become aware that not many people know this play." You chuckle, trying to hide your nervousness behind it. "But Romeo and Juliet has always held a special place in my heart and I want to share that with the world, before I go."

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes. You wonder if Coryo is watching. He's not here, you're sure of that, but you do hope he gets to see. And he does.

He stands up as soon as your face first appears on the screen, declining help from both Tigris and Sejanus as he limps over to the TV, cranking up the volume. Your fate depends on this, he knows it, but he can't look past the blue tint under your eyes and the bruises that litter almost every part of your exposed skin. The cuts are what get him the most. Your knuckles are cleaned up, mostly, but red and irritated as you twist your hands together nervously in front of you. Same with the crude black stitches on your upper arm. Irritated, neglected by professionals, but at least it wasn't serious.

"Come on... You can do it." He mumbles mostly to himself, and Tigris reaches up to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder as the three of them watch.

"O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?" Immediately, he is confused. He expected to be, of course, but he could also tell as soon as you started reciting it, after the first line, your confidence was coming back to you. This play was your safe space.

"Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love; and I'll no longer be a Capulet." You look out at the silent audience as you speak, a smile forming on your lips. They're listening. "'Tis but thy name that is my enemy: Thou art thyself, though not a Montague."

Coryo is wishing you had explained more to him about what this play is about. "What's Montague? It is nor hand nor foot, nor arm nor face nor any other part belonging to a man. Oh, be some other name." He should have asked. Why didn't he ask? You told him yourself that you could talk about it for hours. Why didn't he take advantage of that when he had the chance?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet; so Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title." A rose. Of course a rose, was this for him? He longed to understand it better as he watched the donations tracker tick up and up toward the thousands.

"Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name, which is no part of thee," You take a deep breath for the first time since you started speaking. "Take all myself."

It was a beat or two before the audience clued in that you were done, and then the cheers started. A standing ovation, people wiping their eyes and clapping for you like you had changed their lives.

"Wow! Now wasn't that something, everyone!" Lucky laughs, coming back into the frame of Coryo's view from the camera. Tigris was in tears. The continual uptick of the donations counter was reassuring to him. As you smiled, cheeks flushing red. "The donations are just flooding in with a record high! That must feel good."

"Thank you, it does." You nod at Lucky, trying to place all your focus on him so you don't get too embarrassed in front of the crowd. At least you knew Coryo would be pleased. If you understood his prize situation as well as you thought you did, this was very good for him. "I just want to make my family and my mentor proud."

"You have a real talent. It's such a shame." The host says to you and you laugh awkwardly.

"Well, everyone loves something. I just loved books."

You continually referring to yourself in the past tense makes Coryo want to puke, looking away from the screen only briefly to take in the other nurses and patients watching too.

"We have just a few moments left, but I need to know, what is that about?"

"Oh! Well, Romeo and Juliet is a tragedy." You explain, back to yourself again. "It's about two star-crossed lovers from feuding families. So, what Juliet was talking about, to put it very simply because I could go on and on about this, was that she loved Romeo for who he was- not just his name or his family. It didn't matter to her that they came from different places. She loves him anyway, and if he couldn't let go of his family, she would give up her own life for him."

Coryo's eyes widen. So it was about him. He can't help the tug on his lips that threatens to form a smile.

"Alrighty then, that's very sweet." Lucky replies. "Now, you said it's a tragedy. What is so tragic about a love story?"

"Well," You chuckle nervously. "They both die at the end."

taglist: @soulessjourney, @keziahcore, @that-veela-girl, @motorsport, @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs, @Lanadelrey3, @rawrmameh, @3zae-zae3, @babyspice6, @pastel0rchid, @maysileeewrites, @articxari, @Urfavpouge, @Multivitaminfy, @baybieruth, @kitscutie, @annaelise, @serrendiipty, @fratboyharrysgf0201, @totallynotkaibiased, @stelleduarte, @klplynn, @secretsicanthideanymore, @bejeweledreverie, @fals3-g0d, @drewsandsebastianswife, @niicole-87, @queenofshinigamis, @innercreationflower, @nallasstuff, @spring-goddess1, @baybieruth, @lovelyxtom, @throughgoeshxmilton, @enwonie, @scorpiolystoned, @iovemoonyy, @kodzuvk, @soupasoup, @eedwardss, @thatmarvelchick19, @wearemadeofstardust0, @regulusblackcore, @kbakery , @qardasngan, @omgsuperstarg, @kuroosbby001, @puredreamagination, @fantasticchaosthing, @coolcatyarb, @yokolesbianism, @becauseseaotters, @KimmiB13

if your user has a strikethrough i wasn't able to tag you! i'm so sorry!

[mydadleft471]

An Ailing Heart, A Shimmering Soul

Summary: Another Tarnished invades the Shadow Keep and Messmer takes care of them. But something seems off this time. You comfort him when he is most vulnerable.

Spoilers, per usual, for Elden Ring and Shadow of the Erdtree. Warnings for descriptions of violence and a slight amount of spice wink wonk ;D (I've never wrote anything spicy please go easy on my ass, I'm so down bad)

I had two requests, one from the lovely @asianbutnotjapanese and the other from anonymous, and I thought they'd go so well together! I'll link the posts here and here! Thank you both for the requests! I love writing comfort for this lanky man.

As always, thank you for reading, reblogging, liking, and commenting! It makes my day every single time!

Another Tarnished had invaded the Shadow Keep today. This one made it to Messmer himself. Many others found themselves terribly outmatched by his many knights and guards.

You waited patiently in Messmer’s chamber for him to return victorious, just as he had done a multitude of times before. Fiddling with your hands, you tried to drown out the screams and thudding from the room adjacent to Messmer’s, but your thoughts did little to distract you. Your mind wandered, as it always did in these moments: would he come back from this fight?

You shook your head. Of course he would. He was a mighty demigod with more than his mother’s wishes to fight for now. He had you. It was something he whispered into your hair when you lay huddled against his massive form in his bed. You were drifting on the very edge of sleep when his voice, silky and smooth, cut through the silence.

“I will return to thee, beloved consort. This I shall promise.”

Your heart had flipped in your chest. You knew he meant it and he never went back on his word.

The large door creaking open interrupted the sweet memory. Pushing yourself off the bed, you stepped timidly until Messmer came into view.

Blood adorned his chest like rubies and his eye was glued to the floor. He had left his spear in the previous room.

You hurry towards him. “Are you hurt?” You grab his hands and clutch them tightly.

“Merely scratched and covered in blood that is not my own.” He sounds tired.

Carefully, you lead him over to his ornate washroom. He doesn’t say anything as you pull him behind you like dead weight. Even his serpents stay still as they’re perched on his shoulders. Dropping his hands, you hurry to grab some bath salts he likes and a fluffy towel. You turn the faucet and the tub begins to fill with warm water. Pouring some of the salts in and swirling them around, the room begins to smell sweetly of jasmine and vanilla. 

Looking back at your lover, you notice that he watches you tiredly. His eye droops and he doesn’t stand as tall as usual.

“Do you need help taking your armor off?” He merely nods in response, so you get to work.

You stretch your arms up to take off his helmet and he bows his head. You set it on the table behind you and comb your fingers through some of the rebellious strands of red. Carefully raising the cloak he wears, you allow the serpents to wiggle out of it before undoing the clasp and letting it fall to the floor behind him. Moving around him, you work on the various buckles on his armor and before long, it joins his cloak in a bloody, crumpled heap. 

“Come, my love,” you call out to him and his eye shimmers in response. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You take his hand and gently guide him into the bath, letting him go as slowly as he needs to. Once he settles into the warm water, he lets out a sigh of relief. You tilt his head back and pour water over his hair, just as you have done many times before. It’s become a daily thing to wash his hair and body. He loves the tenderness in every touch you lay upon him.

You begin to massage some of his favorite shampoo into his fiery locks. You take your time ensuring his scalp has been thoroughly washed and thread your fingers through the tips of his hair. He shudders and shivers in pleasure. 

You want to ask what’s wrong. He’s come back from fights exhausted and worried, but he’s never looked so dejected. Perhaps the fight was too close for his liking? When you took off his armor minutes earlier, you hadn’t seen any new bruises or wounds on his body, so that couldn’t be it. The Tarnished that came to his Keep enraged him, sure, especially if they had hurt any of his men, but they had never made him like this.

“Messmer?” His eye opens slightly. “What’s bothering you?”

“Whatever dost thou mean?” His voice is dejected and quiet.

“Did something happen during your fight?” You tilt his head back and wash the shampoo from his hair.

“‘Tis nothing. Thou needn’t worry.”

You sigh. “I thought we talked about this, about being open with each other. If something is bothering you, I want to help.”

He reaches for your hand and you gladly give it to him. He turns it over in his hand, seemingly marveling at how small yours is compared to his. He kisses your knuckles and moves your hand so you cup his cheek.

“That Tarnished held the belief that I was keeping thee prisoner here.” 

Your mouth hangs open. “Prisoner? My love, no! I’m happy here.”

“They did not thinkest so. Perhaps they imagined themself a protector, like I.”

“Messmer,” you make him look at you. “I stay here because I want to. I stay here because I love you. Okay?”

“I had never felt rage such as that. I lost myself.” He admits.

“I’d be angry too. It’s okay.”

He lets out a shuddering breath and a golden tear streaks its way down his pale cheek. You reach out to brush it away.

“I do not deserve thee, beloved. I am naught but a cursed monster.”

“You are so much more than that. I don’t care if you’re cursed.” You pull away from him and pour a generous amount of conditioner into your hands. You gently apply it to his hair. 

“You make me truly happy. I hope you know that.” You whisper those words into his ear.

“I shall try to remember that.”

You wash away the conditioner and wrap your arms around his shoulders, not caring about how the water soaks through your clothes. He grabs one of your hands and holds it. You lay a light kiss on his neck and he shudders again.

“Do you want me to wash your body, my love?” You ask into his hair.

“Please.”

“Okay.” You smile and unwind yourself from him.

You gather some soap and begin to lather it on his shoulders. You take your time and even knead out some of the knots in his back as you go. He lets out small gasps and you can see that his ears are a bright red almost rivaling his hair. You raise his arms from the water and squeeze his arms, feeling his muscles. He shoots you a look and you quickly look away, continuing to wash him as he requested. You tilt his head back, sweetly sweeping your hands across his neck and travel down to his collarbones, giving them the same treatment as the rest of his body.

“I ask thee stop this teasing.” His eye is screwed shut.

“Oh shush. You like this.”

“Perhaps.” You smirk.

Continuing down his body, you lather his chest in soap and delicately make your way to his stomach. He visibly tenses at this and you shoot him a puzzled look.

“Thou’rt cruel indeed. Continuing may force my hand.” He warns you, his eye shimmering a bright gold.

Oh. Oh.

As much as you would love to indulge in him, right now he needs comfort. You nod, face blushing as red as his, and you begin to wash away any remaining bubbles kissing his skin. Grabbing a fluffy towel, you wordlessly hand it to him and he stands. You tear your gaze away from him as he dries off and try to keep your thoughts decent. You go fetch his favorite robe from his chambers and grab his brush from where it sits on his bedside table. 

When you return, he’s sitting on the plush chair in front of the large vanity he had made for you. You offer him his robe and turn around, waiting for him to dress himself. He clears his throat and you turn around.

“Would you let me do your hair tonight?”

“If it would make thee happy.”

“Always. I love taking care of you.” That earns you a loving smile.

You begin to brush away any tangles he has, but since you’ve been giving his hair regular maintenance, it’s become easier to manage. The bristles gently scratch against his scalp and he lets out a pleased hum. You have such a lovable demigod.

Once you’ve ensured his hair is soft and smooth, you part his hair down the middle. You can see him watching you in the mirror. 

“I think you would look stunning in braids.”

He shakes his head. “Braids are intended for nobility and those with honor.”

“You’re a demigod, my love.”

He opens his mouth to say something but he stops when he sees you standing behind him with your hands on your hips, daring him to refuse you. “There is no sense in arguing with thee, it seems.”

“You are correct.” He rolls his eye. You were so stubborn.

Staring on the left side, you take three small strands and delicately weave them together. His hair is easy to work with and within a few minutes, you have a tiny braid.

You hold out your finished work. “Hold this, please.” He does as you ask, and you almost chuckle at the sight of him concentrating on keeping it pinched between his fingers.

Moving to the right side, you do the exact same thing. Strands of red dance in and out and soon, you have another braid. You admire your work.

You take the first braid from him with a small thank you and carefully lay them down on his head, making them join at the ends. It creates an oval-like shape and emits an air of importance. You grab a small hand-held mirror from the table in front of him and give it to him. He stands and faces away from the vanity, repositioning the tiny mirror so he could see the beautiful, yet simple, job you did. He eye crinkles and he seems to like it.

“Thou hast done a wonderful job. I thank thee, beloved.” 

You take the small mirror from him and return it to the vanity table. You gesture for him to sit, which he does without protest.

“Your serpents deserve braids too.” He chuckles and his companions look at you with wide eyes.

You open the drawer of the vanity and pull out two tiny braids made from some fabric. You had been practicing with these so your braids would look perfect.

The serpents come closer and you gently lay the strand of fabric on them. They shake a little at first, then flick their tongues excitedly.

“I think they look handsome, don’t you think, Messmer?”

He throws his head back and laughs. “They look quite ridiculous.” The serpents hiss.

You gently pat them both and they nuzzle into your touch. “Don’t listen to him. You both look wonderful.”

In truth, they did look a little silly, but they seemed proud to wear braids like their master.

“Thou always tends to my ailing soul, beloved.” He kisses the top of your head.

“Proud to serve, my Lord.” He rolls his eye at the use of his title.

He scoops your hands up in his and gazes into your eyes tenderly. “I shall say it now for fear that thou dost not realize: thou art free. Wherever thy soul wishes to roam, thou mayest go. I only request that thou returnest to me safe.”

You shake your head. This man. You lean up on your tiptoes and he bridges the gap, placing a loving kiss on your lips. There is no rush, no fight for dominance, just the both of you existing in the same space. Your hearts swell in admiration for one another.

There is nowhere else you’d rather be.

[arcadia345]

Astro observations🌺

FYI I’m not a real astrologer, just my observations :) TW🔞

The cancer moon men I know are pretty chill and laid back + funny, but the women are so bitchy and moody😭 with a big sweet tooth

Every twin I know either has Gemini or Pisces placements

You ever meet someone and their neck just stands out for some reason added points if they smell good, most likely they’re a Taurus rising/ mars. Good example is Megan thee stallion her neck is so cute to me hehe

Aries in the chart can show you the things you were introduced to at a very young age, the early memories that you think of and say ‘That was wild lol’

3rd: could’ve started learning way before you started school(like flash cards and things) siblings and cousins, music, having access to electronics early

4th: erratic home life, the woman around you could be go getters

6th: could’ve got a lot of injuries when younger, probably couldn’t have a peaceful day even if you tried, bad experiences with animals

7th: domestic abuse, might have seen people having affairs, lots of disagreements between couples

12th:paranormal events, you could’ve had a lot of deja vu moments without even knowing, tend to have strong spiritual gifts,people having ill intentions towards you

Aquarius moon or degree/ moon in the 11th tend to have a “second mom” a person that treats them like their one of their own children, sometimes even better than their own mother does. 🌚

The people with mars in the first house I know have so many battle scars on their body

Moon/cancer in 3rd love changing their voices, and they have a bad habit of not telling the whole truth / white lies

Water sign on the descendent- people are always wondering what you’re up to, no matter how much you show them they’ll still wanna know what you’re hiding

Your first house correlates to how you came into this world, I have Chiron (ruled by Virgo) in my 12 conjunct my ascendant, uhm she said she almost d*ed having me😀 and I was a C-section baby. And the hospital did her so dirty(you know much they hate black women) they didn’t even stitch her back up correctly or drain her fluids and to this day she still has problems. The also gave her extra dosages of drugs just cause she’s a plus size woman- honestly I could go on and on but it really correlates with my cap rising and Neptune/Uranus in 1st

Mercury ☌ Sun, these people voices are just💋💋 they sound so sensual and unique ugh hard to explain it but 🥴 ex. Jungkook , Tupac

Gemini/ Libra in 2nd love collecting things like figurines makeup clothes candles plushies, could easily be a borderline hoarder tho

Ives noticed that sun in 10th have a strained relationship with their father, but their later years in life their relationship gets better, or not could really go either way, also could have money issues in their early years but ends up climbing the corporate ladder. It may take you a while to tho but just know it’ll be worth it in the end :) also they always stand out at their work place in some way, the coworker that you’re glad to see clock in at rush hour cause you know they gonna handle shit

Venus- mercury positive aspects love giving out nicknames to their favorite people 🥺if they’re always calling you cute names just know they really care about you lol

Sag moons and degrees have no chill😀 like calm down bae sag anything tbh🚬

9th house ruler in the 11th could go to the same college with their old friends or could become very popular in the area they’re in, I think they’d make good bloggers

Air signs or degrees in 5th are trend setters.

Aquarius you inspire people, they could take things and make it into their own like art

With gemini here people will “copy & paste” ur looks. But no matter what it just looks like a knockoff version of what you did lmao it just never look as good as yours

Libra here people are very opinionated on how you express yourself either in a good way or bad, neither less you guys get a lot of compliments on your style

Every time I see a Capricorn rising with Neptune in the 1st it’s like their skin is see through and fragile😯makes sense tho since caps rule the skin and Neptune fogs things up. A good example is Ariana Grande her skin looks so delicate

Pluto/Scorpio in the 11th/11th house ruler in 8th, your friends could hate each other🤺 also they could have a rough life/childhood, trauma bonding or just experiencing traumatic events together is common here

Chiron in Aries (honestly any Aries placements it just depends on where it is), most people didn’t pay attention to them in their childhood in some way so they learned to be independent because of their lack of support cardinal things fr

That’s all for today! Give me a follow if you enjoyed💕

[hellonearthtoday]

double posting in one night because I'm awesome and unstoppable. read more if you want to be bombared by my warrior cat au

CAT JALLY IS HERE!!!! Idk why Dallys mom chose his dork ass name in the og but he's named very blatantly after the state/city here. He's bounced around different locations a lot, especially for how young he is. He's been in Texas, New York, and now Oklahoma. He hitchhiked in people's cars to get place to place, before eventually settling down in Oklahoma once he got situated w homegang.

Dally and Johnny are actually THEE dynamic duo here. Dally is farrrr more hype about sparring and fighting than Johnny is, like that freak lives and breathes it, (he likes winning) but Johnny still kicks ass because Dally trained him. Johnny has like has a sleeper build because he's constantly hunched over like a crinkled plastic bag so they don't ever expect it when he leaps at them like a sugar glider and starts scratching the shit out of them

Johnny doesn't really like sparring at all because he doesn't like hurting his buddies, and Johnny literally has only two modes and it's passive or actually rabid so he always reflexively holds back when they try and spar with him since he cant be normal about sparring. So he just ends up literally standing there doing nothing. Imagine those videos of goats just freezing. Or opposums playing dead

He can play fight with the others fine, but he can only really spar for real with Dally because he's not afraid of hurting him. What I'm trying to say is Johnny hones in on beating the enemy whenever he fights and he literally can't multitask. he's LOCKED in

Johnny mostly tag teams w Pony because first of all Pony is not doing that shit alone and SECONDD of all, while Dal and him DO fight good together, Johnny tried sending him A Look one time mid battle and Dally didn't get it and asked if he was abt to cough up a hairball. Then Dally was body slammed by the guy behind him Johnny was trying to warn him about

Johnny tried explaining what he did afterwards and Dally said that shit was stupid and Johnny mumbled smthin abt "Pony would get it😒😒😒" he was low-key embarrassed though

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part 14

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

Enjoy and thank you for reading!! 🫶🏼❤️

Part 14

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded and gazed at it.

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a new change.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That makes Miguel smile even more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel raises an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He yearned for it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until you came along.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are.”

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

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

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

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

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

“There might be some left.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready.”

“Let’s go then.”

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

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

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

“Here, I’ll refill our mugs then.”

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

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

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

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

“About what?” he asks, curiously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel turns to look at you when you say that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If not more.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time has definitely gone by.

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

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

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

You have each other now.

Always.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who?” Miguel asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seems like the little one agrees.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N?”

You freeze.

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

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

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

—☆

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel, your best friend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did? When?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry turns to Mayday.

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

“I am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tomorrow.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You said yes,” he repeats, nodding.

“I did…” you reply, trailing off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey guys, I’m back,” someone says.

The three of you turn at the voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s ready for that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

You raise an eyebrow.

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

“Where are we going?”

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

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

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

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

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

“A secret window?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No?”

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

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

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

This universe is a home to you now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was he?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel nods and thinks about that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, that would look bad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wish me luck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s pouting?”

“You were just now.”

“Do you have nothing else to do?”

“I always have things to do.”

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

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

“What?” Miguel asks distractedly, his mind somewhere else, in another universe that’s not his but one that feels like home regardless.

“She’ll be fine. Don’t worry too much about her. She’s Spider-Woman, you know.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow with a stern look on his face before he returns his attention back to the sink. He wants to argue that he’s not worried but that would be a lie. Miguel finishes washing the dishes before he dries his hands. He sighs and places the towel down. “Yeah… She’ll be okay.”

“That’s the spirit,” Lyla says even though there was little enthusiasm in Miguel’s words. “How about you head back to HQ? You have about three spider members looking for you.”

“I step out for an hour and everybody needs me,” Miguel says rolling his eyes.

“Well, to be fair no one is used to you leaving out of nowhere.”

“I leave all the time.”

“Not in the middle of the day to head to your penthouse. It’s always for a mission or something in regards to the Spider Society but today you’re here,” Lyla says. “It’s strange.”

“Alright, alright. Ya [Ok], I’m going back to HQ,” Miguel says heading to one of the windows to slip out of the penthouse. Outside, Miguel glances back inside the penthouse with a sigh. He finally closes the window and leaves, his mind still whirling with thoughts.

He reaches HQ in no time and sure enough, when he arrives there’s people waiting for him. Miguel takes care of the tasks, feeling like at least these distractions will keep him from thinking about where you’re at right now. Or rather, who you’re with.

It’s not even ten minutes later after the last person left when Miguel hears multiple sets of footsteps. He’s definitely not in the mood for visitors but his eyebrows raise when he sees who it is.

Hobie, Pav, and Miles.

“Miguel,” Hobie says, hands in his pockets, in black and white.

“Hey, Miguel,” Pav says much softer as the three spider members approach him.

“Tío [uncle],” Miles acknowledges him with a little wave.

“Hobie. Pav. Miles,” Miguel addresses them, standing on his ground level platform. He does a glance over, noticing they seem to be in a somber mood, which sends alarm bells in Miguel’s head. “Has something happened?” Miguel asks, now noticing that Hobie is in black and white, a sign that he’s not in a good mood. He learned about Hobie changing colors depending on his mood and who’s around him a while back. Hobie’s appearance makes Miguel wonder.

“So this guy,” Hobie starts. “Harry Osborn.” __☆

Upon stepping out into your own universe, you’re grateful to Miguel for being so thoughtful. Droplets of cold rain splatter on you before you immediately open the umbrella to shield yourself. Under Miguel’s umbrella, you waste no time and make your way down the building you chose as your location, saving yourself a lot of walking and even swinging to avoid any suspicions since you’re not wearing your Spider-Woman suit. You didn’t even bring it with you, so you hope there’s no need for it, or else you’ll have to travel back to Nueva York to retrieve it.

As you approach the entrance of the building where you’ll be having lunch, you briefly think about how convenient a holographic suit option could be in times like these. You could’ve easily thrown the little chip in your handbag, or sewn a secret pocket into your clothes and keep it there.

Maybe you’ll tell Miguel about it later. He did offer one a few months back when he accidentally made some rips to your suit when he was in the infirmary. You sigh as you make your way to another floor, thinking about how your suit is quite old. You’ve had it since before Peter died, maybe a year or two before his death, and you’ve refused to change it because he helped you design it.

You can tell these days that the fabric feels differently from so much wear. It has seen better days for sure, yet, you feel like you’d be parting away from a part of Peter if you change it. You know you’ll save it like every other suit you had before, so it’s not like you’d be throwing it away, but this one feels different because it was the last one he helped you design.

As you enter the designated floor, you think about it. Maybe you’ll ask Miguel about it, at least get his opinion. You’re sure he’d like to help you.

You glance at the umbrella again, now closed, and think of Miguel and how thoughtful he is. Not only that, but he’s been so comforting and assuring of this whole situation, so openly and without hesitation, too.

Just as you’re about to slip off your gizmo to put it away, you see a bunch of notifications come through from your other friends, all wishing you luck with your meeting.

You told them about Harry and today’s lunch a few hours after Miguel and you returned from lunch yesterday. Just like Miguel, they were able to tell that you were nervous even if they didn’t say anything about it. You smile as you read the encouraging words from them now before you activate the “Do not Disturb” mode and place it in your handbag.

You enter the main room and search for Harry as you take in the setting, noticing it’s a bit on the sophisticated side and filled with individuals in business attire. You imagine they’re probably some of the richest people in the city, considering Harry is one himself.

At last, you spot Harry when he stands up to greet you, so you head his way.

“Hey, you made it despite the weather,” Harry says with a smile.

“I did. It’s definitely raining out there,” you reply, giving him a small smile.

You both stand there for a few seconds, not knowing how to properly greet each other. Do you give him a handshake and make it formal? A hug, on the other hand, feels far too personal.

“Allow me,” Harry finally says before he pulls the other chair for you.

You thank him before sitting down, wondering how awkward this will be if neither of you were able to figure out how to greet each other. You calm yourself with Miguel’s words as Harry returns to his seat. It’s just lunch and it’ll be fine. Time will fly and it’ll be over before you realize.

“I’m relieved that you came,” Harry says adjusting his suit’s jacket. “I must admit… As I saw the time, I thought you had changed your mind - which I wouldn’t blame you for.” Harry looks down at the table. “But I’m glad you came. Thank you,” he says softly.

You nod. It didn’t occur to you to cancel on him. It was Miguel who suggested that you could meet him another time until you were ready since he noticed your tension.

“It never crossed my mind, to be honest. I’m glad I was able to make it, too, despite the weather. Thank you for the invitation,” you reply.

“Of course…” he responds giving you a brief smile before a waiter approaches your table.

You both order drinks to start and take a minute or two to look at the menu. Looking over it, you feel thankful that this alone will take some minutes.

You subtly glance up at Harry, his eyes on the menu. He also seems to not know what to do.

Turning your attention back to the menu, you realize you’re honestly not hungry after the half sandwich Miguel made and drinking so much agua de Jamaica, but you must order something. You finally find something that sounds light and hope it’s good.

“My dad loves this place,” Harry says placing his menu down. “They have great food and it helps that it’s close to Osborn Industries.”

“Yeah, I bet that makes it very convenient for a busy man like him.”

“I think so. And of course, he runs into old friends, too, so that must be another pro to the place,” Harry says glancing around, which makes you wonder if he recognizes anyone.

You nod. “It’s very beautiful, too. Lovely view,” you say glancing towards the windows.

“I’m glad you like it.”

You nod at each other, falling into a silence that’s somehow alleviated by the waiter who arrives with the drinks. He provides a small buffer between you as he takes your orders but all too soon, he’s gone.

As Miguel would say, shock, you think to yourself while taking a sip from your drink.

__☆

“Alright, so… You’re all unhappy about this lunch meeting?” Miguel asks after listening to the three spiderlings. It seems that they just wanted to vent, even Hobie.

“… Yes,” Pav replies.

“Yep,” Hobie responds at the same time as Pav.

“It’s just - I don’t know why Y/N accepted,” Miles asks in sync with the other two.

“Why?” Miguel asks.

“Because… Why is this guy now showing up?” Hobie replies. “So many years have passed since Peter’s death. It just doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Or, me,” Miles adds and Pav nods.

Miguel raises an eyebrow. He can’t deny that he’s thought about that, too, about how sudden this all feels, but then again it happens, for better or worse. Plus, there's something else in Miguel's mind - something about Harry Osborn's sudden reappearance in your life that's gnawing at him. He can't pinpoint it right now in the presence of the three spider members.

He sighs and leans on his platform. It’s at least nice to know he’s not the only one having thoughts about this encounter between you and Harry, however, he’s not going to add to their worries with his own. No, Miguel is going to try and calm their worries as best as he can, they are, after all, still so young. And whether he realizes it or not, the paternal side of him feels the urge to ease their concerns.

“Look, guys,” Miguel starts, looking somewhere else, trying to gather his thoughts. After a few seconds, his red eyes shift back to theirs. “As much as we’d like to be there with her right now and question Osborn about his decision almost five years ago - question what kind of person does that to their friend,” Miguel says with a sharp tone. His relaxed face turns stoic at the thought of Osborn ghosting you right after Peter’s funeral - a change the other three Spider-Men notice - before Miguel reminds himself to calm down. “Believe me, I have many thoughts about that,” he says irritated but as he continues on, his voice and face expression become softer as he speaks of you. “But Y/N - she - she’s incredible. She’s a brilliant woman and I think we all know that. If she made the decision to meet him, we must support it. She knows what she’s doing - knows what she needs - and maybe this is a closure for her. As her friends… what matters is that we respect it and support her, the way she’s always supported us.”

Miguel meets everyone’s gazes, trying to drive his words home to make the younger members understand. He understands where they’re coming from but at the end of the day, they all need to respect your decision and support you. At last, they nod.

“It’s a good thing we’re not there, or we’d give this guy an earful,” Miles says, frowning.

Miguel nods in agreement. Harry Osborn is lucky it’s just you and not the entire spider gang, otherwise, he’d be receiving glares left and right.

“More than an earful,” Hobie says with a sigh.

“Personally, I think that guy needs a chat,” Pav says, nodding. “But we must respect Y/N.”

Miguel smiles a bit, glad to hear that the younger members have settled down a bit. He sighs before he straightens up and presses a button. His platform rises just enough so that Miguel can sit on it and have his long legs dangle from it. Three seconds later, Miles joins him with a sigh.

“So, I guess we wait,” Miles says.

“We wait,” Miguel repeats before all four Spider-Men fall into a silence.

Pav ends up taking a seat on Miguel’s other side. Meanwhile, Hobie stands, looking off to the side, still in black and white. About a minute or two passes when Miguel’s stomach grumbles, causing everyone to look at him.

“Did you have lunch?” Pav asks.

“No,” Miguel replies. “Well, I had half a sandwich.”

“Half a sandwich?” Hobie asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I split it with Y/N. I made it so she could eat something before she left, just in case.”

The younger spider members stare at each other at that. Miguel O’Hara made a sandwich and split it in half with you?

“That’s - kind of you,” Hobie says at last looking down at one of his boots, thinking.

“Very thoughtful,” Pav says smiling.

“I’m sure she really appreciated that,” Miles says with a little smile, sharing a look with Pav as Miguel looks at the floor.

“What time is it?” he asks, a question that Miles answers. He closes his eyes for a few seconds. It hasn’t even been thirty minutes.

“I think I saw a new batch of empanadas being put out,” Hobie says looking up.

Miguel looks up at Hobie and nods. “I might go in a bit and check, thanks for letting me know.”

“Sure,” he says, shrugging before he slips his hands into his vest, pink spots appearing randomly in his appearance.

“Where’s everyone else at?” Miguel asks curiously.

“They’re all spread out around HQ. Waiting for Y/N to come back,” Hobie responds.

“I see,” Miguel replies with a nod, thinking about your comment from two nights ago and how true it is.

Not only do you have each other, but the spider gang, too. __☆

“So…” Harry starts, clasping his hands over the table.

“How is work?” you ask, deciding to take control of the conversation.

Harry blinks in surprise, taken a back. He composes himself quickly though. “Good - it’s going good. Busy, which is good. It keeps me occupied,” he says, nodding.

“That’s great to hear,” you reply nodding. “Busy is good. And I’m sure Mr. Osborn is more than happy with that - with him always being so happy to work and staying busy.”

“Oh yeah, he loves it,” Harry says with a smile. “He’s happy having so much to do. I always have to remind him to take a moment, otherwise he’d be running around the building - wanting to be involved in everything. By the way, I told him we ran into each other. He was very happy to hear that you’re doing well.”

You smile warmly at that. Mr. Osborn was always kind with Peter and you, so much that he even offered internships at Osborn Industries at one point. Growing up, you saw him look after Harry like a father should despite being a single working parent. He always made time for every single school function Harry was involved in.

“Well, he’s a working man,” you say. “And I’m touched, thank you. I’m happy to hear he’s doing well, too.”

Harry nods, lifting his glass to take a sip. He sighs and looks at the windows. “This rain. It reminded me of the time Peter…” he trails off, looking back at you.

“You may talk about Peter,” you say. “I’m not going to fall apart listening to a memory about him.”

“I didn’t mean to make it seem like that.”

“I’m just letting you know,” you reply. “Almost five years later, I’m still learning to move forward, but I’ve grieved and healed some. It may not seem like it, but I have. Slowly but surely.”

The reminder of how much time has passed, almost five years in a few months, hits Harry. He stays quiet for several seconds.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to - I don’t know what you’ve been through all these years and I didn’t want to potentially upset you by bringing up a memory of him. I’m thankful that you’ve tried to move forward. Peter… Peter would’ve wanted that.”

You nod at Harry’s last statement. You never told Harry about Peter’s last words but he is right. Peter asked you to try and move forward. You sigh. “Thank you for trying to be considerate, but you don’t have to worry about upsetting me. So… what were you going to say?” you ask him, genuinely wanting to know because the truth is, Harry is one of the few people in this universe that can tell you stories about Peter. Everyone in your life as of right now never knew him, so for years, your memories alone are what you’ve held on to.

With a small smile, Harry continues. “I was thinking about this day when we were in college. It was raining so hard when we got out of a lecture but Peter simply pulled his rain jacket’s hood over his head. He didn’t want to wait. When I asked him where he was off to in a hurry, he said home. He told me he’d send me a message later and said bye before he headed into the rain. I remember standing outside under the roof and watching him take off, that Spider-Woman enamel pin on his backpack standing out in the rain. It was later when he told me he went to see you,” Harry says softly.

As Harry shares his memory, you smile, remembering that day. “I remember that day. He was soaked. My parents and I had to find him dry clothes,” you say. “And the Spider-Woman pin,” you pause and chuckle, remembering it now after so long. “He kept it all the way to the end of college. I still have it with his belongings.”

“I swear he was the biggest Spider-Woman fan,” Harry says with a soft chuckle. “Do you remember when…” Harry continues as more memories flood his mind.

The two of you continue to talk about the old days even when your food is brought to the table and thankfully, that’s the topic of discussion until the end. An hour later, and feeling much more at peace, you’re both standing in the first floor’s lobby. The rain hasn’t stopped at all.

“Do you want a ride home?” Harry offers.

“I’m alright, thank you though. I have my umbrella,” you say holding it up.

“Right,” Harry says with a bit of a disappointed look on his face. He clears his throat. “Thank you for agreeing to have lunch with me. I really enjoyed… Talking to you after so long.”

“I did, too,” you say gently, finding it to be true. After so many nerves, you ended up calming thanks to the memories of Peter. You silently thank him and wonder what he thinks of today from wherever he is. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course.” Harry nods. He stares at you for a few seconds, debating. “I was hoping - I want to ask you something,” Harry says. “It may be too much, but I can’t help myself from asking. Talking to you… It felt like the old times when we used to talk. I didn’t realize how much I missed that until today. I was wondering if - if we could meet again. For lunch, or dinner. Or, anything, really.”

You stare up at him, holding your umbrella and your handbag.

“You don’t have to say yes now. Think about it. I’ll understand if you don’t want to see me again, but just think about it,” he says with a sad smile before he retrieves his wallet. He pulls out a small piece of paper, a business card, and a pen from his top’s pocket. He scribbles quickly and hands you the business card. “My personal number, outside of work. If you’re open to it, call me whenever you want. I’ll get back to you if I miss your call. Just - think about it, okay?”

Holding the business card now, you glance at it for a few seconds, reading the scribbled phone number. You nod before placing it inside your handbag, unsure about your answer. “Thank you. I’ll - think about it.”

Harry nods. He wasn’t expecting a quick yes. “May I call you a ride, at least?”

“I’m alright, Harry. It’s just a little rain. I’ll be fine, truly. Thank you, though.”

“Alright. Please be careful on your way back,” he says, his eyes taking in the sight of you before you part ways. It might be the last time he sees you, after all.

“Likewise,” you reply. “Stay safe,” you add before you give him a small wave and exit the building, feeling his gaze. __☆

Miguel reads data from a screen. It's the fourth time he's read over a paragraph and the information doesn't stick. He slides the screen away. Maybe he should focus on something else that requires less attention.

“Your roommate is back. She's outside the lab asking if she can come in,” Lyla says popping up next to Miguel.

“She's back? I'm gla - Tell her yes. She can come in,” Miguel replies, his face lighting up.

Lyla nods and disappears. A few seconds later, Miguel can hear your footsteps before you step into view. There you are, already in your suit and with a smile.

“I did say in an hour or so,” you say, approaching his platform.

Miguel chuckles quietly, a soft smile grazing his lips. “You did. Did you - Did you enjoy your lunch?”

Stepping onto the platform, you nod and look at him. When you first joined the Spider Society, you never imagined stepping on Miguel’s platform but it’s no longer a strange feeling. You now know how to operate everything on his platform these days after he taught you and a few other members when he was injured last year during the spring. Sometimes you even use the screens when you wish to see what you’re working on in a larger scale, sharing the platform with Miguel. And it’s why you feel comfortable stepping on it now, even leaning back with Miguel facing you. He leans to the side, watching you tentatively to gauge your reaction, trying to detect any negative emotions in you but your smile is a true one. You seem at peace and that makes Miguel relieved.

“It went well - after a few minutes of awkwardness. I’ll admit, at the beginning I was disappointed when the waiter left too soon after taking our orders.”

Miguel grins in amusement. “That sounds like a rough start.”

You chuckle and make a face at him, a playful one that inspires a short exhale of air from Miguel out of amusement and ternura [fondness, endearment]. “It was, but thankfully, it slowly got better. He brought up a memory of Peter, from our college days, and that was how we were finally able to get past the awkwardness. I think he was nervous, too. From that point on, we talked about other memories. As you said, it was over before I even realized, thankfully.”

“I’m glad to hear that - that you found something that eased your nerves and his,” Miguel replies, feeling glad that you didn’t spend over an hour of discomfort in Osborn’s presence.

You sigh softly, a sign to Miguel that there’s more. He watches you carefully as you glance at a screen.

“He gave me his personal phone number by the end of it - said that he’d like to meet again, if I was open to it.”

Miguel nods, absorbing these news for a few seconds. He’d like to ask what your thoughts are on that but he refrains from doing so. He believes you’ll tell him once you’re ready to share. Right now, he has a feeling you haven’t fully given it thought considering you just came back.

“I’ll be honest, I don’t know the answer yet,” you say at last, turning to meet his gaze again.

With a look of understanding, Miguel replies, “You have time to think about it. There’s no rush to make a decision today.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” You nod to yourself, thinking. You’ll take a few days to consider it, but in this moment, all you want to do is settle down for the day - have some normalcy. All day, since morning, you’ve felt nervous and now that the lunch is over, you feel as though it has taken a mental toll on you. “Have you seen the others?”

“According to Hobie, they’ve all taken posts around HQ, waiting for you to come back,” he says, offering you a gentle smile.

“Really?” you ask, your face softening.

“Yeah… Including myself,” Miguel admits quietly, looking away.

You smile, feeling like all the tension from the day is slowly melting away. “I was more than ready to come back,” you admit as well. “You’re all so sweet,” you add, wishing you could lunge yourself at Miguel right now to give him a big hug but alas, Miguel is not there yet. “I really am lucky.”

Miguel’s gaze turns back to you at that, a hint of a smile on his face that grows into his usual smile for you. “We are, too,” he replies softly, sending a warmth through your body with his words.

As you both stand there, you think about how you should go see the rest of the spider gang to let them know that you’re back, but for the second time today, you don’t feel like leaving Miguel’s presence. So, you both stand there in each other’s presence until you both hear thunder.

“I guess we are having thunderstorms,” you say, still leaning back. “But hopefully we’ll be at the penthouse by then.”

“I’m sure we will,” Miguel replies, suddenly wishing that it was later in the day already. “I think - I’m going to leave around the time you usually head out.”

“Yeah? You have something to do?” you ask softly.

He shakes his head but then nods. “Actually, yeah. I was thinking for dinner we could have burritos de tinga, if you’re up for it.”

“I’m always up for burritos de tinga.”

Miguel grins and straightens up, his head tilting to the side. “Really? I had no idea. I thought the reason you smile every time you have them is just coincidence,” he says with a soft smirk now, his voice playful.

You chuckle, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Ah, I see how it is now. In my defense, it’s not my fault you’re amazing in the kitchen. It’s your fault I love them so much, you know.”

Now Miguel chuckles, raising an eyebrow at you. “So now it’s my fault, eh? Very well, I’m guilty then, your honor.”

“Who is guilty?” Peter B. asks.

“And for what crime?” Jess asks.

Miguel and you turn, your eyes finding the spider gang. You straighten up as they all approach the platform.

“We heard you were back,” Pav says looking at you. “From Lyla.”

“I got back about ten minutes ago. It went well,” you reply, adding the last bit to ease any concerns from your friends. “It was just lunch,” you add, glancing at Miguel with a knowing look. He gives you a small smile before everyone surrounds the platform to ask you questions until the conversation turns to other things, like how it’s been raining all day and then to how your school age friends are not in school when they should be only to be told that you didn’t need to worry about that, at which Miguel and you shared another look.

Half an hour later, with everyone still in Miguel’s lab, Mayday swings to you to be held. You hold her, standing near Miguel as everyone else has their own conversation. The two of you watch in silence as your friends talk happily amongst themselves. You smile at the sight, thankful to be surrounded by friends once again.

The sight makes you wonder. Do you have space for one more, an old one, that is?

You fix Mayday’s wristband, the one she wears in order to travel through the multiverse with Peter as you think of Harry. Time will tell, sooner rather later.

“Miggle,” Mayday says looking over at Miguel.

“What did she say?” Peter asks, turning his attention to his daughter.

“Por favor no [please, no],” Miguel mutters next to you.

“Did she say ‘mingle?’” Peter asks coming over to his daughter with a bright smile.

You glance over at Miguel who looks like his face is about to turn into a grumpy one. “She said mingle,” you reply, with a smile to Peter. You hand her back to him.

“Another word! Mingle. Wow, where did she hear that? We haven’t taught her that one yet,” Peter says. “Good job, sweetie. Daddy is proud of you.”

After Peter walks away, still praising Mayday, you turn to Miguel, who is looking more than relieved. He glances at you. “Thank you. I know Peter would start calling me that if he heard it.”

You chuckle. “No worries. I got you cover.”

“Thankfully,” he replies relaxing.

After a few seconds and very quietly so only Miguel will hear, you speak again. “So, we are eating burritos de tinga, right, Miggle?”

“Yes, we are. We have all that we need to mak-” Miguel stops mid-sentence and turns to face you, eyes narrowed. “I see how it is.”

“What?” you ask, shrugging innocently.

“You said the m-word.”

You look away to hide your smile. “The m-word… All I said was your name. Miguel.”

“Yeah, okay, uhuh,” he replies. “Might not make the burritos after all.”

“Wait, no - please?” you say, turning to look at him. “Please, Miguel?” you add, emphasizing his name.

Miguel’s lips quiver as he fights the urge to smile but he gives up and almost rolls his eyes at himself. He’s too easily persuaded by you.

“Fine. Burritos de tinga for dinner,” he says with a smile. “But never call me that again with Peter within earshot, please,” he adds quietly for you to hear only.

You grin. “Alright, alright. I got it. Just don’t threaten my burritos de tinga, please. I can’t wait to get home,” you say happily.

Miguel chuckles, something inside him fluttering when he hears you say you’re ready to go home, to the penthouse. “Honestly, this weather makes me want to be home now. Maybe we can head out earlier…” he says softly as his eyes look around at your friends.

“I’d be down for that,” you reply.

“We’ll do that then, if nothing else comes up.”

To Miguel’s relief, and yours, nothing interferes with your plans. At the penthouse now, Miguel has a pan on the stove in which he’s cooking the tinga. The two of you are sitting side by side with your photo album laid out on the counter so the two of you can look at the photos. You brought it downstairs, wanting to look at more photos since the lunch with Harry unlocked memories you’ve been storing away.

Outside, the rain hasn’t let up and thunder has only increased since earlier when you were both in the lab. Thankfully, you are both at home now, shielded from the rain and in the comfort of the penthouse with Miguel’s record player on and delicious homemade food being cooked.

You lean back on your seat, still looking at the photos. Miguel’s eyes scan each one with close attention. You’re both in lounge clothes now, with plans to relax for the rest of the evening. You wonder if tonight you’ll go separate ways, or if you’ll hang out in the living room. You secretly hope it’s the latter, especially on an evening like this.

“Here we were at the student center,” you say softly as your eyes land on one photo of Peter and you in college. “It was some event for a student organization. I honestly can’t remember what it was called but somehow we got involved.”

Miguel chuckles quietly and nods. “So you joined clubs and organizations in college?”

“Yeah, I tried to,” you answer, remembering that that wasn’t something that came up yesterday when he was asking you questions of those days. “I got into honor ones and others.”

Miguel turns to look at you, a smile on his face. “I’m not surprised.”

Turning to face him, you smile, feeling a little shy. “Yeah, I was in a few.” You shrug as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Hmm.” Miguel turns back to look at the photos. “And look at those cords and medals,” Miguel says, gently tapping on a photo.

You look at the photo. “I earned a few.”

“Just a few, right,” Miguel says rolling his eyes playfully before he stands up. “Let me check on the food real quick.”

He checks the food, making sure it’s not burning and satisfied, he prepares everything to start heating tortillas before he returns to your side.

“Next page,” you say softly in a bit of a sing song voice as you turn the page. The photos on the new pages consist of both Peter and you, either photographed alone or together but one in particular catches Miguel’s eyes.

Peter and you are on a couch, sitting side by side. You’re both smiling but you’re the only one looking at the camera because Peter is looking at you. With his gaze glued to that photo, Miguel thinks about how there’s no doubt that Peter loved you. He can see it in the man’s eyes, the pure love and affection in them. You were the love of his life.

And Miguel knows you reciprocated all that love and affection. Despite the years since Peter’s death, your voice and face says it. You speak of him with love and fondness.

You both loved each other. So much.

Miguel gulps softly as he continues to stare at the photo. “You were so in love,” he says, so quietly you almost miss it.

You look at Miguel, following his gaze and realize what photo he’s focused on. You smile tenderly and nod. “We were.”

Miguel nods, his eyes still on the picture. “It looks like the kind of love that you only find once,” he comments. “The kind that a lot of people search for their entire lives.”

Still staring at the photo, you process Miguel’s words. You remember what Miguel told you about his wife and marriage a few days ago. You’ve been thinking about it since, how Miguel felt that he was in a loveless marriage, and that both him and his partner had only married to have a sense of family. By his words, Miguel has realized over time that he wasn’t truly in love with his partner. He loved her but not in a romantic way.

You reflect on his statements from just now - about searching for love and not finding it. Is that how he feels now? That he’s searched for it but hasn’t found it? That makes you wonder. Is Miguel still open to it? Or, has that door been shut?

You sigh softly and trace the photo with your fingertips, trying to find the right words.

“I’ve had the privilege of experiencing it - feeling it. To receive and return it,” you start, your gaze on the photo. “It’s truly a beautiful thing. All kind of love is, I believe, and our love, Peter’s and I… It was a beautiful one. I was - I am - fortunate to have experienced that kind of love,” you say, finally looking up at him. “However, I don’t believe that it’s a once in a lifetime thing.”

Miguel’s eyes turn to you, questioning. You shake your head.

“I think there are people who have the privilege of experiencing it twice, sometimes even more.” You give Miguel a soft smile. “That’s the thing about love, at least, that’s how I see it. I’m not a love expert,” you say, shrugging slightly. “But, I think love is so complex it can be found again. Perhaps it’s felt differently considering no relationship is the same but that doesn’t mean it’ll be felt with less intensity and connection - it wouldn’t be any less meaningful. You know - one time I remember reading something about this. It was something along the lines of how one can find the love of their life in one partner, and discover their soulmate in another one. I don’t know,” you say softly. “Maybe that makes no sense but… I think it’s possible. Love is love, as long as you love with your heart.”

Miguel nods slowly, your works sinking in just as a loud rumble of thunder fills the penthouse. It seems that over the last few minutes, the rain has grown stronger, and thunder and lightning have become more frequent. “You have a much positive perspective on it than most people do.”

You offer Miguel a small smile. “Maybe I’m naive, and there will be people who disagree, but that’s what I think. Especially, if you’re open to love again.”

Miguel nods, still staring at you as a question comes to mind. “And are… you?” He’s wondered this before - whether you’ve ever even considered the idea of a relationship after Peter, at least one in the future.

You hold his gaze and smile, another loud rumble filling the silence before you reply. “… I am. Just not now. I think I’ve been open to it for a while, the idea of it. One day, maybe. And that’s if I find someone that - you know.”

Miguel nods in understanding. He looks down at the album again. “Maybe one day,” he repeats, now staring at a photo of you alone, smiling at the camera. He silently wonders if Peter was the one who took the photo before he clears his throat, the penthouse’s lights flickering. “Thank you for sharing your thoughts,” he says sitting still for a few seconds before he stands up, remembering to check on the food. “It’s ready, how many burritos do you want?” he asks softly as he retrieves plates, thoughts of your reply in his mind.

You politely tell Miguel how many you’d like and while he prepares the burritos, you gather everything else that’s needed from glasses to napkins. All the while, the sound of rain against the windows grows. You notice the lights flicker a bit more but neither Miguel nor you think much of it, or at least, neither of you say anything about it. You put away your photo album, somewhere where you’ll see it and remember to take back upstairs to your room later on.

“Your burritos are ready,” Miguel says as you look out a window from a distance, watching as lightning scatters around the sky in bright flashes.

“Thank you,” you say turning back to the kitchen again, ready to serve drinks for both Miguel and you just as Miguel heads over to the counter, one plate in each hand.

Miguel has barely placed the plates down when the lights flicker again. You finish pouring the drinks, glancing up for a second.

“At least we still have-” you start.

“Power,” Miguel finishes your sentence, nodding.

Except, the lights flicker once again and this time, the penthouse goes dark. The music from the record player has cut off, so now it’s just the sound of the thunderstorm filling the air. After what feels like ten seconds, Miguel and you chuckle.

“We spoke too soon,” Miguel says, shaking his head in amusement. “Let me go and retrieve some flashlights. It usually doesn’t take long for it to be restored but we can’t have dinner in the darkness.”

“I have some candles upstairs,” you offer. “I’ll get those.”

“Okay, let me just - cover the food so it doesn’t get cold,” Miguel replies before the two of you head off in different directions to get what you need.

You come back downstairs with the candles and quickly light them up to get some lighting. You set them around the kitchen and dining room area, making sure to place each one in a safe area. As you place the last one, you hear Miguel’s footsteps, catching your attention. He steps back into the space, holding three flashlights, and looking around, he realizes your candles are more than sufficient for dinner. Either way, he places them on the counter to the side.

“The candles light up the place pretty well, what do you think?” you ask, meeting Miguel back at the countertop.

“I was just thinking that. No need for flashlights. I’ll leave them here either way, just in case you need one. Feel free to grab whichever. They all have new batteries,” Miguel says, tapping the flashlights before he gestures to your chair. “Come on, let’s eat before the food gets cold.”

With a smile, you nod and quickly reach his side before taking a seat. You both begin to eat your food, at last, over candlelight and thunderstorm sounds.

“Oh, yeah, I found this,” Miguel says as he reaches into his pocket. He places a device on the countertop between you and then a few rectangular pieces.

Cassette tapes.

“No way, cassette tapes?” you ask with excitement, which Miguel immediately detects.

“Yes. They became trendy a few years ago - back when Gabriel was still alive, actually - so, many years now. Gabriel is actually the owner of this one. Some of these tapes are his, and some are mine. I saw them once I got the flashlights and figured, why not, since we can’t use the record player right now. I hope it works though, I haven’t tried it.”

“I hope so, I’d love to hear your music taste from back then. And Gabriel’s, too,” you say with a grin.

“Well, I hope you’re not disappointed. I don’t remember a thing from these things,” Miguel says, nervous that the music might not be to your taste, or his at this point in his life. He sets the device up and to his surprise, it works. “This one is one of Gabriel’s tapes. Let’s see what the vibe was for it since he never labeled them,” Miguel says shaking his head in sibling disapproval.

You take a bite from your food as you wait for the music to start and seconds later it does.

“It worked,” you say.

“I’m surprised it did. It hasn’t been used in forever.”

You chuckle and lean back as the music continues. “This is nice. I like the vibes,” you say. “Seems like Gabriel had good taste in music.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow, glancing over and noticing the way the candles lit up your face in a gentle manner. “You’ve only heard half of this song. You should wait before you make a decision because sometimes he’d play music that wasn’t pleasant to the ears.”

You laugh softly. “Really now? And what did he think about yours?”

“Probably the same thing,” Miguel replies with a grin before he takes a bite from his food.

You laugh again before you continue to eat, listening to the music and talking with Miguel, enjoying the conversation. You thank him for dinner once you’re both done and together, you clean up by candlelight.

You’re happy when you both head to the living room afterwards, neither of you wanting to part ways tonight. The cassette player comes along with you, which Miguel places on the coffee table before he settles on the couch, opposite of you. The candles, which you both moved to the living room, now light up the space as there’s still no power over an hour later, but neither of you seem to mind. If anything, you’re both enjoying the randomness of this moment.

You pull your blanket over your lap and grab your book, one you left a few days ago on the coffee table, next to Miguel’s. You’ve noticed that he’s been reading lately, a hobby he mentioned a while back but one he hasn’t made the time for, especially because it reminded him of Gaby. You wonder if seeing you reading has inspired him to start again. Either way, seeing Miguel reading anything other than reports and data makes you happy, especially because he’s reading one of the books you gifted him for Christmas.

As you get settled to start reading, Miguel picks up his, joining you in reading while soft music plays in the background despite the thunderstorm going strong.

You both read for what feels like an hour, at times stealing glances at each other from across the coffee table, until Miguel closes his book and places it back. He stretches his legs and glances at you just as you flip a page, finishing a chapter. You look up at him and give him a small smile.

“Tired of reading?”

“Kind of. My eyes are, at least,” he replies before he rubs them, a sight that you find endearing. He lowers his hands and glances at you. “What about you?”

You tilt your head to the side. “I think I’m done reading for tonight, too.” You repeat Miguel’s actions, closing and putting away your book, next to his again - spine to spine. “It’s still early,” you comment.

“It is,” he responds, looking around, thinking.

You look around yourself, spotting your tablet on the coffee table. “Do you want to look at new ideas I have for the penthouse? I found a few ideas you might like.” You look up at Miguel, waiting for his reply. “Unless, you want to do something else, then I can show them to you later.”

“No, no, let’s - look at them now. Please,” Miguel replies, looking at you. “I’d like to see what you found.”

You grin and prepare yourself to stand up.

“I’ll go to you,” Miguel says, making you stop before you even really began moving. He’s up and in front of you in the blink of an eye, taking a seat on the ground near you. He grabs the tablet and hands it to you before he pushes the coffee table away so he can stretch his long legs comfortably.

You feel a little in awe with how fast he moved but shake it off. You get off the couch and sit next to him on the ground, pulling your blanket along with you, which unintentionally ends up covering part of Miguel’s lap. Finally settled, you pull up saved photos and begin to show them to Miguel, who gives you his full attention. He nods and hums in approval, telling you when he really likes something. You feel a sense of satisfaction when you’re done showing him everything you saved because not once did he show disapproval.

“I like all of those ideas. Do you think we can work on it this weekend?” Miguel asks.

“Definitely. I’m up for it, if you are.”

“I’m up for it,” Miguel replies, still sitting next to you. He smiles softly as you scroll through other saved pictures. “You seem to have more ideas.”

“These are not that great,” you say, making a face of disapproval. “I found better ones later on.”

Miguel hums in response, still smiling. He watches as you make a movement in your tablet, moving pictures around. Despite being done with the photos, both of you remain in place, not moving. After a few minutes, you suggest finishing flipping through the photo album from earlier, something Miguel says yes to.

So, you find yourselves, once again, looking over your photo album. You flip through each page, telling Miguel the stories connected to the photos.

And Miguel? Miguel listens to every word you say, his gaze shifting between you as you talk and the photos.

Before either of you realize it, you close the photo album. “That’s it for this one. I have more, maybe I can show them to you later,” you say.

“I’d like that,” Miguel responds as he watches you place the album on the coffee table before you lean back on the couch, still sitting on the ground with Miguel. You sigh softly. “You tired?” he asks you softly, wondering if the day’s exhaustion has finally caught up with you.

“Nope,” you reply with a smile. “If anything, this weather and the music makes me want to stay up and simply enjoy the evening for a little longer, especially… In the presence of great company.”

That makes Miguel smile. “We can do that.”

You nod, getting more comfortable. You glance at the flickering candles, thinking about what a lovely evening this has been despite having no power and the day’s events. Miguel and you are simply enjoying each other’s presence over his brother’s music in the dim lit living room while it rains. There’s something about it - it’s so homey.

You slide lower, resting your head on the couch’s cushion.

“Do you want to lie down?”

You glance at Miguel. “Hmm, I might. I think - I think I’m going to stay up for a while longer. You?”

“… Same. If you’ll have me,” he says, which causes you to smile.

“It’s your living room.”

“And? It’s your living room, too.”

You look away at that, your cheeks suddenly feeling warm.

“It’s the truth,” Miguel says quietly. “You’re living here, for now, so… I said it before. My home is your home.”

“Thank you,” you say softly.

“Always.”

A few seconds of silence later, you lay down and stare up at the ceiling. “This is kind of a moment - a vibe.”

“Is it?” Miguel replies, glancing down at you for a second. He reaches behind him and pulls something. “Lift your head,” he says and once you do, you feel him slide one of the decorative pillows under your head.

You thank Miguel for the kind gesture, unable to stop yourself from smiling about it. You lay there for several minutes, Miguel sitting at your side until he eventually lays down, too.

You both listen as a new song starts to play. It’s the kind that’s perfect for a rainy evening such as this one - soft and slow, and yet sweet and groovy.

“I wanna plant you in my heart, oh, so love can grow…”

Miguel lays there, listening to the song. Gabriel always found gems when it came to music, Miguel will give him that. He continues to listen to the song but his mind shifts to other topics without wanting to, such as his comment from a few minutes ago.

“You’re living here, for now, so… I said it before. My home is your home.”

For now. You’re living here for now.

Once again, Miguel thinks about how great it’s been to have you here, staying with him. He doesn’t want to think about the day you return to your universe. He’s tried to avoid thinking about it and for the most part, it has worked. Until now.

“May I tell you something?” Miguel asks as you both lay on the ground.

“Of course.”

“I’ve been thinking about your apartment - when construction is completed and it’s livable again.”

You glance at him but Miguel is staring right at the ceiling, unable to meet your gaze.

“You have…?” you ask gently, wondering where Miguel is going with this.

“Yes… I’ve been thinking about it. Is it crazy that I,” Miguel pauses, wondering if he should really say what’s on his mind but ultimately, he says it. “I’m going to - miss you,” he says at last with a sigh. A few seconds later, Miguel turns his head to face you, his red eyes find yours. And like always, there’s no judgement from you. Instead, Miguel finds a smile.

“I’m going to miss you, too,” you say softly, your heart swelling with pride, affection, and love for Miguel because you know sometimes it’s hard for him to share his feelings and thoughts and yet, he’s done it tonight.

Miguel’s eyes widen a little at your words, as if there was doubt in his mind that you would miss him, too.

“A lot, actually,” you say, looking away now.

Miguel’s lips twitch upwards into a small smile. “You are?”

You glance back at him, finding his smile. It brings one to your face, too, because Miguel seems genuinely happy to hear your words. “Yeah,” you reply. “You seem happy.”

“I’m just glad I’m not the only one feeling like that,” he confesses, still smiling.

“You are not. I… I’ve actually thought about how quickly I got used to living with someone again - with you.”

“Me, too,” Miguel says before he rolls on his side, supporting his head with his hand, staring at you. “I think we’re… We’ve been great roommates.”

That statement makes you smile a little more. You nod before you copy Miguel’s position, so that you’re both facing each other now. “I think so, too.”

Miguel gives you a little grin, satisfied to hear that you agree, but a part of him still feels untranquil. You’ll be leaving at one point, even though you’ve both enjoyed this temporary arrangement, that is a given and you both know that. Unless…

Miguel and you look away from each other as a similar thought crosses your minds, one that neither of you dare say out loud.

It’s crazy to think about a long-term possibility, right?

You sigh softly after several minutes of silence, thinking about something else to avoid other thoughts.

“You know, you asked me a lot of questions about college. I feel as though I don’t know the same about you. Yet.”

“Yet,” Miguel says with a small grin, his thoughts scattered. “What do you want to know?”

“Well…” you start with the first question and as always, Miguel listens intently. He answers your questions and satisfies your curiosity like you satisfied his the day before. Each time you ask something different - something he didn’t think about asking already - he returns the question, wanting to learn even more about you.

All the while, there’s a bright look on Miguel’s face as your conversation continues. His eyes light up as he hears your questions and genuine interest in his life before you ever crossed paths.

There’s a happiness in them, one that has grown over time with and because of you, replacing a sadness that had settled in those beautiful autumn eyes for so long.

At some point, without realizing it, Miguel stopped being el muchacho de los ojos tristes, the young man with sad eyes.

And at some point, you started to find safety in those maroon eyes - the same ones you gaze into while falling asleep on the living room floor, but before fully succumbing to your exhaustion, you offer something to Miguel. It’s what you’ve both wanted since you repeated “Always” to each other on your bedroom floor two nights ago. It’s what both your bodies longed for earlier today, before you went out for lunch with Harry.

A heartbeat later, your pinky finger is gently held by Miguel’s and just like that, his warmth, presence, and scent lull you to sleep while those warm eyes guard your sleep.

Translations:café de olla - coffee made in a pot pan dulce - Mexican bread polvorón - description provided in text; for my friend @faretheeoscar !! telenovela - Latin soap opera Mira - look agua de horchata - rice water agua de Jamaica - hibiscus water Uno nunca sabe - one never knows Ya - used in place of "ok" Tío - uncle ternura - endearment; fondness burritos de tinga - I feel like you know this by now. I had some Wednesday and they were bomb despite not being made by Miguel *sigh* Por favor no - please, no el muchacho de los ojos tristes - the young man with the sad eyes; brb gonna go cry from HQ's rooftop now that Miguel showed us the secret window

A/N: I'm gonna make this quick since at this point you've read like three or four chapters from an actual book! 🫣 Some of you may have seen a post I made last Sunday but just in case you haven't: I'm sorry for how long it took me to update. Last month was a bit off for me and I didn't feel like writing. It might sound silly but I feel like I get seasonal depression but for spring. 😂😭 I'm a fall and winter gal, so I always feel down around this time for some reason. I also had other life things going on, so I hardly got on here or other social media. Anyway, I'm better now :) I hope you guys enjoyed this update! Thank you for being so patient with me and for supporting this fic. I say it again and again, so much I probably sound like a broken record, but it truly means so much to me!! I hope you all have a wonderful weekend and please stay safe ❤️

-Alondra

taglist: (text block limit sucks) @loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp

@rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze @yujyujj @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea @moonsua1 @darksidescorner @geminis93 @1800-get-alife @hrrtkreuz @oharasfilipinawife @dropyoursocksandgrabyourcrocss @may4ri @t4naiis @f1-hoff @llumetrii

[yuuuume]

dick headcanons

| 1 | ?

content; penis discussion, me being unprofessional

characters; ichigo kurosaki, kenpachi zaraki, nnoitra gilga (aka some members of the big dick club tbh)

requested; yes

rating; 18+ mdni

this was my mood while i wrote this tbh.

黒崎一護・ichigo kurosaki

I don’t believe there will ever be a universe where I fully neglect Ichigo. Like, ever. Please request more for him. Anyhow, I retain my first thoughts about him, and I’m assuming no one remembers so here I go on my bullshit. He takes after his father, not only with the horrible chapter 686 hair but with that shmeat and you can quote me on that. Ichigo is thick and his cum is creamy. If I remember correctly, I once said he’d do marvelous in porn and I stand by it. The nickname for his cum is strawberry cream and bonus points if it tastes marvelous. His length caps out at around 17.2 cm (or 6.8 inches), and the diameter of his shaft is around 2 inches. He starts slow with the head as it's smaller than the rest of him but the further he goes, the more you feel him stretching you out until he’s bottomed out, heavy balls pressed against your skin. To be honest I could go on for days about his balls but I won’t. Ichi stays clean shaven so one usually wouldn’t be able to tell that his pubic hair is on the straighter side and as orange as the hair on his head.

更木剣八・kenpachi zaraki

Every time I think about Kenpapi’s meat stick I get a little crazy. I’m a size queen, we’re not getting into that today though, this is about the big man. Also known as the Daddy of the Seireitei, I like to refer to him as the fictional Peter Steele and it translates through to his dick. It is long and the staff among all other staffs, I will give it an astounding 24.6 cm (9.7 inches). Kenpachi’s dick is about as crazy as he is, veins decorating his shaft with heavy balls capable of breeding your little body because let’s face it, regardless if you’re 4 foot or 6, you’re still small in comparison to this big man and his cock makes you feel it even more so. His head is an intimidating 2 inches in diameter and his shaft is mostly kept to one length in diameter of 2.4 inches but that doesn’t make him any easier to take. In fact, he is for the real size kings/queens, your holes will never be the same after Kenpachi and that can either be your biggest nightmare or everything you have ever asked for in life. I hope you enjoy pubic hair by the way, he hardly cares to groom his coarse black hairs. Maybe if you ask nicely he’ll be bothered to do something about it.

ノイトラ ジルガ・nnoitra gilga

I’m gonna get this off my chest before we start; fuck them Nel stans on Twitter. Iykyk I am not elaborating. Anywho… Nnoitora called, he wants his schlong back and I’m not caving, it’s mine. All 28 cm (11 inches) of it. Long as it is, however, he hardly has any defining traits. His cock is smooth save for some minor veins scattered about his shaft, which gives for an easy ride, doubled with his thin penis which sits at a fair 1.8 inches diameter. King of the pencil dicks, I fear. But as a size queen, I fear taking him because abnormally large penises scare me in general. Thickness isn’t a thing to me because to quote Mother Megan Thee Stallion, ‘If I get on it, I own it and take it’. However, he is the cervix puncher, the colon colonizer. My question is who the hell is taking his fucking? It's probably not me. Nnoitra doesn’t care if it hurts either, it makes his modestly sized balls tingle with glee when you’re crying out in pleasure or discomfort. At least he has the decency to trim his black, straight pubic hair. Also, much strength to you if you attempt to give him a blowjob.

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© yuuuume