#mexican dream x reader

[exodusin]

𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄 Miguel O’Hara taking you horse riding in Tequila, Jalisco, México, in your first date with him in the afternoon, so high up the mountains to see the sunset and the beauty of the view and sounds of the bells chiming from Parroquia Santiago Apostol (the cathedral). You enjoy the view as if you were looking into the eyes of peace itself, however, Miguel is looking at you instead as if you were a gift from the Gods sent to earth.

[norrisainz33]

friend of a friend || MV33

☆ summary: max meets his dream girl through his friends good friend, pato o’ward

☆ pairing: max verstappen x mexican!reader

☆ fc & warnings: gala montes & poorly translated spanish and slightly suggestive! you are responsible for the content you consume

☆ requested: yes!! thank you for requesting and apologies for the delay 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

maxverstappen1 has made a post

liked by ynuser, redbullracing, schecoperez, charlesleclerc and 547,936 others

maxverstappen1: enjoying some much needed sun and relaxation before we head to vegas 😴

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user1: max i’ll meow if you need another cat

user2: i’m sorry who in the heck is in the last slide

user4: is he soft launching rn??? at a time like this???

user6: so this is why he still looks happy despite rbr woes

user7: is that his girlfriend?!

user8: max please give us the tea

user9: f1gossip im begging you to figure out who this is

redbullracing: happy you’re getting some r&r max 🤍

ynuser: mi novio es tan bonito [my boyfriend is so pretty]

[liked by maxverstappen1]

user9: now hold up ….. who is this and why did max like

f1gossip: taking note of this interaction

user12: ugh she’s private so we can’t even snoop but she’s followed by pato and elba oward, carlos, rebecca, rbr and checo

user13: this is pato and elba’s childhood friend!!! she’s good friends with them

user12: everyone say thank you user13

user3: the shirtless photos?? the soft launch??? how am i supposed to be normal

charlesleclerc: 👀

user4: i’m gonna miss ur fine ass when i scroll

user5: sometimes you just gotta say damn and move on

ynuser has added to their story 🔒

[staying here forever]

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yourbff: in monaco???? no gracias. you can’t leave me like that 😭

ynuser: yes monaco!! it is so beautiful 🥹

yourbff: you’re not just saying that because of a certain man?

ynuser: oh no i am saying that bc of a certain man 😮‍💨 he is a dream come true bestie

yourbff: ugh do elba and pato have any other hot millionaire friends they could set me up with???

ynuser: i’ll ask them im sure they do

yourbff: preferably one who’s name rhymes with pranko dolapinto

ynuser: HAHAHA mi amiga

carlossainz55: te gusta monaco? [you like monaco?]

ynuser: yes!! i love it. you, me, rebecca and max should grab dinner one night while im here!!

carlossainz55: i’d love that

maxverstappen1: you can always move 🤷🏻‍♂️

ynuser: maybe one day 🤔

elbaoward: my work here is done 🥹

ynuser: you are a magician. how’d you know we were perfect for each other?

elbaoward: bc i know my best friend 🤍

ynuser: te amo elba 🫶🏻

redbullracing: can’t wait to see you in vegas!

patriciooward has made a post

liked by ynuser, elbaoward, yourbff, maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 321,345 others

patriciooward: gentle mornings with my hermanas

view all 223 comments

user12: oh max is in the likes 👀

ynuser: why do you insist on picking the worst photos

patriciooward: it’s my brand

elbaoward: 💁🏻‍♀️

maxverstappen1: send me the last pic

patriciooward: done!

ynuser: PATO wtf

user12: user13 you were right

user1: oh to have gentle mornings with pato 😭

user3: i love that he calls y/n his sister too

ynuser has made a post 🔒

liked by maxverstappen1, yourbff, carlossainz55, iamrebeccad, patriciooward, and 313 others

ynuser: la vida últimamente [life lately]

view all 22 comments

yourbff: ugh the red hair suits you

ynuser: i agree 🥹

maxverstappen1: prettiest girl in the whole world

ynuser: mi amor 🥹 i love you 🤍

maxverstappen1: te amo

elbaoward: the spanish 😭🥹🩷

maxverstappen1: i’m working on it!

iamrebeccad: dinner last night was so fun. let’s do it again 🤍

ynuser: i’d love that!! see you in vegas darling

patriciooward: oh so you’ll post but not answer my texts

ynuser: yes exactly

friend1: hermosa chica [beautiful girl]

maxverstappen1 has posted to his story

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user2: max emilian the man that you are

user4: screaming crying throwing up. i can’t believe he’s off the market

ynuser: my man my man my man 😍

maxverstappen1: that’s me baby

ynuser: thanks for inviting me to vegas with you

maxverstappen1: schjate you’re invited everywhere with me. i never want to be without you

ynuser: omg you big softie

charlesleclerc: oh she’s got you dressing up now too?

maxverstappen1: i want to look nice for my girl what can i say

charlesleclerc: oh he’s in love

maxverstappen1: 🤭 maybe

user5: i ! can’t believe you’re not wearing skinny jeans. the power she must have

schecoperez: i like this girl 😉

maxverstappen1: me too

user6: the emoji???????? max i’m speechless who are you

ynuser has added multiple stories 🔒

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yourbff: god you’re gorgeous. have so much fun at the race baby

ynuser: thank you bebe. vegas is amazing - i am having the best time

yourbff: living vicariously through you 🥹

maxverstappen1: you have no business looking this good especially when there’s nothing i can do about it 😫

ynuser: win me the race and you can have me as a prize later 😉

maxverstappen1: you got it baby

elbaoward: are you in red bull hospitality??? come to mclaren i want to see youuuuu

ynuser: yes i’m in red bull but will cross enemy lines for you gorgeous

patriciooward: hermana donde estas? [sister where are you?]

ynuser: omw patito

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, yourbff, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7 and 7,234 others

f1gossip: in an interview earlier today max confirmed his relationship with, y/n y/l/n. y/n is childhood friends with elba and pato o’ward and it turns out that the siblings introduced max and y/n in miami earlier this season. the pair hit it off immediately according to max and “it was the closest thing to love at first sight he’d ever experienced.” she’s in attendance today at the grand prix! let us know if you get the chance to meet her and if there’s any further intel you get

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user1: ohhhhh max 🥹

user2: this interview melted my heart. he looked so genuinely happy to be talking about her

user7: i love seeing him happy

user3: i’m obsessed with them already. perhaps my new favorite wag

user4: love at first sight???? i’m not crying! you are!!

user6: the way max also talked about trying to learn spanish for her because she’s mexican and how he’s also trying to teach her some of his language too 🥹😭

user8: this is the sweetest thing. that is true love idc what any of yall say

user5: i hope a love like this finds me one day

maxverstappen1 has made a post

liked by ynuser, yourbff, schecoperez, alex_albon, patriciooward, and 645,123 others

maxverstappen1: vegas you were a fun one - thanks for having me and y/n/n!

view all 546 comments

user2: y/n/n 😭

user4: crying my eyes out

user6: yayyy maxie!!! glad to see you on the podium again

ynuser: te amo mucho vegas 🤍

maxverstappen1: and you te amo mucho me too right?

ynuser: omg yes maxie. i love you endlessly

user14: SIMP

user15: max asking for validation has done something to me.

charlesleclerc: great drive max!

patriciooward: take care of my girl ok?

maxverstappen1: you got it pato! no need to worry

redbullracing: our champion 💪🏻

user8: jealousy isn’t cute on me but here we are

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thank you for reading!! reblogs, feedback and likes are very appreciated 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Hello!

I wanted to order something from Wonka (2023) because I fell in love with it after watching the movie! So if possible, I would like something fluff in which Reader and Wonka are mutually in love but neither has enough confidence to declare themselves and Noodle helps them both to tell each other their feelings. (sorry if I didn't understand, the english isn't my first language)

A little push [W. W]

Willy Wonka x fem!reader

word count: 4.5k

note: first of all, I want to tell you not to worry because English is not my first language either (i'm Mexican, where are u from?) and second, I loved writing this, I had fun and I think I got a little excited with the words count, haha. I hope you enjoy!

taglist: @dyieying @reallysparklychaos [Timothée masterlist]

“Everything is amazing!” Noodle squealed, as he walked down the stone hallway and looked around with absolute fascination: from the chocolate river to the glass ceiling through which you could look at the blue sky.

After you had gotten rid of the Chocolate Cartel and the rest of the group had returned to their normal lives, Willy had finally started his dream of building a chocolate factory. Now that it was finally finished, you and Noodle had been the first in the world to have the privilege of seeing it. You had stayed in touch, of course, although it was almost always when he went to town in search of some materials for his creations, to sell chocolates on the streets or to work on rebuilding the store at the Galeries Gourmet.

"So you think?" he asked, smiling. He loved the girl as if she were his little sister and you imagined that her approval would prove to be quite important.

“Of course, it's magnificent,” she assured him. You looked out at the grass and waved at the little orange man (who you now knew was called Lofty) who was drinking from a small cup “Is the river real chocolate?”

“Of course it's real chocolate, who do you think you're talking to?” he murmured, almost offended “Go explore and eat whatever you want. I accept suggestions for improvements” Willy indicated to your friend, who smiled at you apologetically and bolted towards the glass bridge section.

“I think we'll finish the merchandise before the opening,” you joked and then Willy seemed to remember your presence.

His smile was extremely sweet when he turned to you to offer you to take his arm, like a gentleman, and so you began walking, a little slower and a shorter distance.

“It would be impossible, I assure you.”

“How have sales been?” you questioned and then he began to give you a summary of everything.

Abacus was still his trusted accountant so this whole matter was well monitored, which allowed him to make all the movements, purchases, and remodeling. While Noodle (whose name you knew wasn't hers, but you kept calling her that out of habit) was lost in the recesses of the enchanted castle you seemed to be in.

"A flower?" he offered you suddenly, leaning down to pull one of the ones growing on the floor.

"It is eatable?"

“Everything here is edible,” he said cheerfully. “Except me, I guess.”

“Maybe you are, although I think you'd taste quite peculiar,” you said in a soft, teasing voice, hoping he'd catch at least a little of your flirtation.

After everything you had been through at the launderette, as well as the time you had lived together after that, you had become good friends, but little by little you had begun to feel something else blossoming inside you. The boy was handsome, you had realized this from the first moment you saw him, but the more you lived with him you began to realize the great qualities he had. It was much worse when you added to all this the sweetness with which he always treated you and how attentive he was towards everything you wanted.

That's why you threw in some flirtatious comments from time to time, to test the waters, observe his reactions, and thus build an image in your mind to know if you had at least a chance.

“Let's find out,” he said, and your breathing hitched for a moment, but it came out as a chuckle when you saw him lick the back of his hand “Not that unpleasant, though a little salty, I’d say.”

You had to admit that you would have liked to see how your friend tasted differently, but for now you would just let it go. Maybe he was very innocent or maybe he didn't like you. 

“What are you working on now? Something new?” you asked curiously, taking a bite of your flower. It was delicious.

"Yeah! Actually yes. Now I'm thinking about creating a chocolate whose flavor contains the three meals of the day, so people who don't have much money could buy it and have the pleasure of the three foods. Oh, and I want to expand the sweets to sell in the store, not only chocolates, but also gum, candies, gummies... What do you think about that?

“Sounds like an excellent idea, Willy” you smiled. He separated from you when you reached the edge of the river falling from the waterfall, where he theatrically removed his hat to pull out a cup that he filled with liquid chocolate and then held out in your direction.

"Do you want?”

“I can drink a little,” you replied, while you took the porcelain container with your fingers and took a sip of the contents. There was something special about his chocolates that you still didn't understand, but he made them a thousand times more enjoyable. “Hhm-mmm.”

“All the chocolate is in constant motion, which makes it beat better and taste smoother,” he explained to you, as he got completely excited when it came to talking about the chemistry behind his creations. You noticed that he was looking at your lips and you were about to say something when he spoke: “You have a little… over there.”

"Here?" you asked, stretching your tongue in the direction where he had pointed, but Willy continued to look at you with some amusement.

“No, in… right there, uh… wait” he murmured and seeing your failed attempts to get rid of the stain he took a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket “Let me help you.”

Willy took a step towards you and you gasped when one of his hands came up to cup your cheek, as if he didn't want you to move your face. The other, with the help of the handkerchief, gently passed the corner of your lips.

You took the opportunity to look at him carefully, trying to record as many details as possible: some freckles that he had on the bridge of his nose, a trace of facial hair that he probably shaved in the morning, his bushy eyebrows above his beautiful eyes framed by long eyelashes and finally her pink lips that were pressed in on themselves as a sign of concentration. He was so handsome and so close to you that you were getting nervous.

He, unbeknownst to you, had his own swirl of emotions. The skin of your face that he was holding was soft and in that position it would have been enough to lean in a little to capture your lips with traces of chocolate, without you even noticing it and, probably, without you being able to deny it for a moment. But he didn't want to do that to you, he knew it wasn't correct and after all he didn't know if you felt the same way.

He hummed a word to let you know he was done and suddenly the two of you found yourself looking straight into each other's eyes, lost in each other's gaze. Just two fools in love who didn't realize it.

"What are you doing?"

You separated abruptly when you heard the voice of the girl, who had apparently been watching you for a few seconds, and looked at her accompanied by Lofty. Both of them were smirking.

“Huh, she… had some chocolate on her face and I…”

“Willy helped me remove it” you completed. You didn't even understand why you guys were nervous, it wasn't like you guys were doing anything guilty.

“Do you guys want to go see my lab?” Wonka murmured, trying to divert attention from whatever had happened just a moment ago. “You're going to love it. “I’ll even let you make a chocolate if you want, Noodle.”

“Okay,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders, but giving you a look that clearly meant: we'll talk about this later. 

When they began to walk, Willy turned for a second to look at you with a feeling that you couldn't decipher and then he returned his gaze to the front, just so that you wouldn't see the blush that had painted his cheeks.

“Are we going to talk about it?”

"Talk about what?" you asked absentmindedly, punching your pillow to soften it.

You and Noodle shared a room because you still couldn't find a place to settle and, furthermore, you had been hired at the library so there was no problem for Dorothy with you staying with them.

“Talk about how you and Willy almost kissed.”

“We weren't going to kiss!” you screeched immediately, turning violently to look at the girl.

“Well, that's what it seemed like. He had his hand on your face and you were so close.”

“He was just helping me remove a stain,” you defended yourself, although it was obvious that you had gotten nervous.

What if he had tried to kiss you? you suddenly asked yourself. No, it was impossible. 

“But you like him.”

“Noodle,” you squeaked under your breath, “What kind of questions are those?”

“Oh, you like him!” she concluded. For the girl, the fact that you were evading an answer was an answer in itself. “I knew it.”

“You can't tell him,” you said, resigned that the girl wouldn't let the matter go so easily. “You have to promise.”

"Why not? Maybe he likes you too”

“Well, I prefer not to know that,” you lied. It was obvious that you wanted to know, but you were too worried about ruining your friendship with him to do any real research.

"What is it that you like the most about him?"

"Stop"

“I won't tell him!” the little girl said, raising her hands in surrender. “I swear. I just want to know how it feels, I have never fallen in love with anyone."

The excitement in the girl's eyes ended up convincing you to talk to her about your feelings for your mutual friend and after letting out a deep sigh you sat down on the mattress, patting the spot next to your side as an invitation for her to sit too.

“You must swear to me that you will not tell him. Please,” you warned her and she nodded frantically. “I like his eyes.”

“I knew it,” she said again, victorious. “What else do you like about him?”

You thought the real question was: was there anything you didn't like about him?

“I really like that he is so kind to everyone. And I like that he is a dreamer, I like his curly hair and his strange clothes. I like when he’s cordial with me and I also like that he talks so… I don't know, so softly, you know what I mean?” you asked and she nodded excitedly.

Talking about it with someone was, in a way, very liberating and once you started you couldn't stop. You spent a long time talking about him, gossiping about the little moments that you thought meant some sign and listing your fantasies, while your friend listened attentively.

As the words left your mouth, you convinced yourself more that it wasn't just a crush, but that you were actually in love with that boy. And it scared you, to be honest.

“Will you ever tell him? “You would make a nice couple.”

"That's what you think?” you asked amused. You had already attacked a stock of chocolates that Willy had given you when he left the factory. “Well, I don't know, Noodle. If one day the conditions are right and he gives me some sign, I guess so."

The girl laughed to herself and registered her information in her mind, certain that very soon you would receive that signal and she would personally take care of it.

“Willy!” The man listened and when he turned in the direction of the voice, he found the unruly hair of his little friend.

“Darling, hello,” he greeted cordially, while he bent down a little to give her a hug “What brings you here?”

“I had a break at the library and I wanted to come see if you were here,” she smiled. The store was packed with people, as always, but they were in a quiet enough section “And I also wanted to ask for your help.”

“Sure, whatever you want”

“It's about Y/N,” Noodle said. Noticing that the man's posture straightened a little, she smiled victoriously, because the mere mention of your name had already captured his attention “But you must promise not to say anything to her.”

“My lips will be sealed”

“Well, it's about a boy”

There was silence, where Wonka frowned perceptibly. Noodle couldn't be happier.

"A boy?"

“Yes, I think he likes her. He goes to the library every day just to see her and he talks to her for hours and even helps her organize some of her books. You should see them, they are so cute together. And I want to organize a date for them”

“A date?” he screeched. He felt betrayed by the girl, although she clearly couldn't read her mind and therefore she didn't know about her feelings for you.

"Yeah! I want your help because I want you to make some delicious chocolates that will make them fall in love or something like that”

“My chocolates can't make someone fall in love with someone else,” he said immediately, although that wasn't entirely true. “And why do you want her to go on a date with that guy? Does he even treat her well? What does he look like?”

It was evident that he was, to say the least, affected by the information she was giving him. She could almost say there was some anger in his voice. Or maybe it was just jealousy.

“Wow, wow, calm down Willy. I thought this would excite you.”

“Why should I get excited?” he asked, honestly confused. Noodle had the boy right where she wanted him and he wasn't realizing anything. It was perfect.

“Because she's your friend and I thought maybe you'd like to help me get her a boyfriend. I don't know, for her to be happy and all that”

Willy Wonka remained silent. He seemed to be holding something in his chest that he didn't want to let out and judging by the look on his face she believed that even he might cry. Suddenly the girl felt the man's hand take her arm to take her to an even more secluded place, far from all the curious ears.

"She likes him? You know that?"

“I don't know, she hasn't told me anything.”

Lies, pure lies. She clearly knew that you were madly in love with the boy in front of her.

“I can't do you that favor you want,” he ruled. “But could you do one for me?”

"What do you want?" she asked, pretending to be confused. He took a moment before daring to speak.

“Please distract that boy. Don't let him get close to her."

"And why?"

“Because I like her,” he finally breathed out.

Bingo, she had gotten just what she wanted.

"No way! Are you talking seriously?"

“Yes, but you can't tell anyone, do you understand?”

“Well, it wouldn't be any use for me to tell someone if she is in love with that boy.”

“Don't you dare think about it,” her friend whimpered. There was no such thing as a suitor of yours and she felt like laughing, but she stopped herself. “She seems very interested?”

“Well, not that much, but he will be soon if he keeps acting like that with her.” Noodle snorted and then he pursed his lips and cursed under his breath, “Unless…”

"That?"

“No, it's nonsense”

“Tell me,” he asked, obviously distressed. He really liked you and he didn't want there to be a chance of someone else winning your heart.

“Well, I think she might lose interest in him if you tell her what you feel, don't you think?” she argued.

“What if she doesn't like me?”

“You won't know if you don't tell her!” She mumbled, feeling the same frustration she felt when she had that conversation with you. “Listen, you remember the flamingos at the zoo, right?”

"Aha"

“And do you remember that they didn't fly until they knew they could escape? If they hadn't flown, they would still be there. They had to do it to discover that there was a world out there, you know what I mean?”

“I don't think so,” he replied, concerned, and she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“What I'm trying to say is that you should tell her if you want to know if she feels the same way. And who knows, maybe so” she murmured. If you knew what she was doing you'd probably be strangling her, but she just hoped everything turned out okay.

The man thought seriously for a moment, with his gaze lost as if he were immersed in his own world, and then he looked at the youngest.

“Well, how do I do that?”

Noodle jumped a little with excitement and pulled her friend to her until they reached a place to sit, prepared to talk to him as much as necessary for him to confess his feelings for you. Willy listened very carefully and by the end of the afternoon they already had a small plan drawn up, that with some luck she would be able to unite her two best friends into a perfect couple.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Willy felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest when he started to look for you in the library, after more than a week of his conversation with Noodle, ready to confess what he felt to you that same afternoon or die trying.

He found you in the history section, carrying a stack of books and looking for the right place to put them. Even without trying you looked very pretty and a sigh escaped him at that, while he thought why it had taken him so long to consider telling you how much he felt for you.

“Huh, hello.”

"Hello, how can I help y…? Willy?” 

“That's me,” he said timidly. 

“How are you?”

“Well, everything is very good” as you left the books on a shelf and approached him you noticed that he was holding a solitary flower in his hand and you asked with your eyes the reason for it “Oh, this one is for you. It's not chocolate, it's just that I saw it on the way and it reminded me of you, because I know that's your favorite color and because... well, because it's pretty."

“Ow, thank you,” you said tenderly, reaching out to take the present and becoming a little embarrassed. “Were you looking for Noodle?”

“No, I wanted to ask you if once you finish you would like to go for a walk to hang out and… chat. The weather is warmer than ever and spring has beautiful sunsets,” he noted. You didn't understand why he seemed so nervous, nor did you know if you were misunderstanding the situation, but you felt your face turn a barely perceptible shade of red.

“I would love to, actually. But I have to cover a shift and…”

“I'll cover it for you,” someone next to you said quickly. It was Noodle, who had seemingly arrived out of nowhere. “You guys go have fun.”

“But your mom…”

“My mom won't say anything. Come on, go” she insisted, pushing you in the direction of the exit. You didn't know what that girl was up to, but you suspected she was up to no good and gave her a warning look.

“Huh, in that case I guess there is no problem anymore. Just let me go to my room to put on some other clothes and I’ll be back, okay?” you said with a smile. You looked at the girl again, as if searching for an answer, but this time she didn't even notice your look, so you went straight to what you needed.

Once there you took the opportunity to comb your hair, put on some cologne, brush your teeth, put on a pretty necklace, and things like that, hoping to look a little prettier for him.

You placed the flower on your shelf with special care and smiled at the boy's kind gesture towards you. When he said that it reminded him of you because it was pretty, was he calling you pretty? God, you hoped so.

Once you returned to where you had left him you noticed that he was waiting patiently in a chair and Noodle was nowhere to be seen, so you announced your arrival and both of you were ready to leave.

“I'm sorry I arrived unexpectedly” was the first thing he said, once you were outside. He wasn't lying, the atmosphere had started to get warmer.

“It's okay, you don't have to worry. I like surprises”

“I hope so,” he said, more to himself than to you.

You walked in silence through some houses and you took the opportunity to admire the landscape, without really knowing where you were going, but with some curiosity.

“Do you want to go to the pier?” he spoke again, because that was one of the destinations you could reach with the route you had taken “The sunset can be seen from there.”

True, he wanted to show you one of those spring sunsets.

"It's a good idea"

“Okay”

Then the man began to talk about something else, to distract his mind and to distract you, and that talk filled the silence of the entire road. When the sea was in front of you, you leaned against a white wooden railing with the sticky salt-smelling air hitting your face. You noticed that the sun had already started to set.

“The sea is huge,” you said suddenly. He leaned next to you, quite close, and this time he looked a little more confident. “Especially when the tide comes in, at this time.”

“Have you ever traveled by ship?”

“No, no,” you responded quickly. “It would be a disaster if I did that. I get dizzy easily and I would be afraid of drowning.”

“You get dizzy at first, but as time goes by you get used to it,” he assured, sounding amused at your response. “It's a good experience.”

“Did you see a lot of sunsets when you were at sea?” you asked, turning to look at him for a second and then returning your gaze to the natural spectacle.

“And sunrises too. The worst were the storms, you would imagine. But in general, there were very beautiful landscapes”

“I bet so,” you smiled. Your hair was blowing in the wind and Willy could only stare at you.

“Although I don't think any of them were as beautiful as you,” he murmured, in a tone so low that you thought you had imagined it.

You were silent for a second, watching the waves crash against the rocks, and then you were able to speak.

“You called me pretty twice today, did you even eat one of those wine-infused chocolates?” you tried to joke, to mask the fact that you were surprised and nervous in equal parts.

“No, it's not that,” he said, with a seriousness that worried you, as you were hoping he would divert the topic. “I really think you're pretty, very pretty actually. But… I mean, that's not the most important thing about you, I don't want you to think that. You were beautiful inside and out, like… your personality. It's brilliant"

“Oh, nonsense.”

“No, I'm serious.”

You could feel the few rays of sunlight that remained, in the distance, hitting your face, and when you looked at him you realized that it reflected a certain golden glow in his eyes. He was precious.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Everything around you took a backseat to the possibility that those compliments weren't just that, but something more, and then he took a deep breath before answering you.

“It wasn't a lie when I said I wanted to talk to you. It's something important to me and... well, I hope you're okay with this, because I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable in any way."

"With what?" you insisted. A part of you told you that you were just misunderstanding everything, that he couldn't be referring to what you believed.

“Well, with the fact that I think you are a great person, that you are charismatic and kind and beautiful and that I like all of that a lot. I like you a lot"

The world stopped for a second and so did your heart. You wanted to pinch yourself to make sure it wasn't a dream, but it wasn't necessary because you knew that the breeze, the sun, and the sound of the waves couldn't be the work of a dream, just as the boy in front of you who was waiting for an answer couldn't be one either.

"Really?”

“Sure, why would I lie to you?” he expressed, sincerely bewildered. An involuntary smile lit up his face and then your hand went to hold his. It was big compared to yours, and it was warm.

“I don't know where all that came from, but I'm glad you said it. Because I like you too. Like, really a lot” you said shakily, and then he could breathe again.

“You don't know how happy it makes me to know that,” he smiled, while he brought your hand to his lips and gave you a sound kiss. Suddenly his hands went to your waist and he gently lifted you off the floor, giving you a spin in the air that made you laugh. “You like me too.”

“That's right,” you said, overjoyed to know that you were reciprocated. Had Noodle had anything to do with this confession? You knew it most likely was, but you would make sure to question her later.

“I was so nervous that you wouldn't like me.”

“How could I not like you, huh?” You exclaimed, raising your hands to his cheeks to force him to look at you. “You are perfect and even sweeter than your chocolates. Of course I was going to like you."

Willy blushed at the compliment and suddenly leaned in to hug you, hiding from your gaze captivated by him as he felt unworthy of it. You smiled widely while you stood on your tiptoes and let yourself be held tightly, while you saw the sunset in the distance and you left a soft kiss on his cheek, whispering a soft Love ya in his ear, hoping that that moment would remain engraved in your memory and that it was only the beginning of many more.

Noodle, from home, was smiling just imagining what you two would be doing and, in her mind, by this point you might have even kissed.

And while it wasn't like that, either way, watching the sunset in each other's arms was much more romantic and memorable for both of you.

[prettylittlels]

you're such a dream to me

(lando norris x singer!reader)

summary: formula one fan singer y/n y/ln is invited to a grand prix where she'll meet her idol.

a/n: i am obsessed w f1 fuck

requests are open!

yourusername has posted a story!

caption: lazy sundays with f1 🚘💤🪴

seen by 1,007,379 users

-> landonorris has liked your story!

message from manager livia

manager livia: y/n!!! i have a surprise for you!!

y/n: heyy babe! whats up?

manager livia: mclaren has invited you to the mexican grand prix next weekend! saturday AND sunday!

y/n: WHAT

ARE U KIDDING ME RIGJT NOW

yourusername has posted a story!

caption: my papaya 🧡 dream has come true!!!! thank you mclaren !!

seen by 1,608,221 users

landonorris has posted!

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1, and 2,075,193 users

landonorris twins 💙🧡 congrats on p1 mate!!!

tagged maxverstappen1

28,079 comments

maxverstappen1 and congrats on p2 to you! 💙

user1 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

yourusername photo creds do not exist in your world???

-> user2 Y/N? THE SINGER? IN LANDO'S COMMENTS? AJUAKSKAHAKAOSB

-> landonorris y/n took the photo everyone! besides from being an amazing singer she also has got incredible photo taking talents!!!

-> user3 AAAH y/nlando? a romance brewing?

yourusername has posted!

liked by landonorris, arianagrande, maxverstappen1 and 3,829,192 others

yourusername post-race shenaniagans 🏁

tagged landonorris

1,901,565 comments

landonorris you didn't have to post THESE pictures

-> yourusername but u look so pretty in them

-> user4 ARE THERE MORE PICTURES?

-> user5 y/n saying he looks PRETTY IN THEM?

lilymhe lando don't steal my wife

mclaren our little lando norris

yourusername posted a story!

caption: working on sth new 🎧

seen by 1,666,039 users

liked by 4,018,299 others

y/nupdates y/n sang her new song R.E.M at tonight's concert!

3,198,290 comments

user6 "boy you're such a dream to me" is def y/n talking about lando

-> user7 ikr

user8 "i love you, who starts a conversation like that nobody but i do" lando mentioned that when he met y/n she was fangirling over him so she probably said sth like that!

user9 omg they're so cute i love this couple

user10 who the fuck is this vroom vroom guy

landonorris has posted a story!

caption: you're such a dream to me 💗

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yourusername has posted a story!

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[certainlynotasimp]

OH MY GOD. THE WAY I JUST SCREAMED IN MY PILLOW BECAUSE OF YOUR NEW SUNNY FIC AGDGJAEGAJAVSG ITS SOSOSOS CUTE I CANT BREATHEHEHEHEHE. it got me thinking…sunny and miggy are perfect for the one bed trope 😭😭😭😭😭 just imagine miggy acting like it doesn’t effect him, sleeping in the same bad as sunny. i’m already giggling thinking about it. PLEASE WRITE A FIC ABOUT IT WHEN YOU HAVE THE TIME 😭🙏

As Warm As You.

Miguel O’Hara x Female! Reader

A/N: OMG! Thank you so much for the love and the request! 💕🤍 I personally never read anything from this trope, but I think I made something that can satisfy your fluffy craving😅. But I added some Sunny lore, so maybe this will make up for my ignorance. I’m also sorry it’s kinda short.

A/N: I haven’t seen the movie yet, but this shouldn’t be harmed by it maybe. Also I would like to say that I am using Google Translate for the Spanish phrases I use, so if you are fluent in Mexican Spanish (I think that’s what you call phrases and sayings more common in Mexico.), please comment some criticism my way. Thank you!🤍

Warnings: Trauma, Nightmares, comfort, fluffy bits, One Bed, Miguel is a secret softie, No Use of YN ((Sunny is her nickname, not her name name)), Female pronouns, Google Translate Spanish, Established relationship?

——————-

“Ben?…Ben!”

The little spider’s scream cuts through the screeching sirens. The smog hung around the air as the dying flames stained the sky. Too many flames…Too many places to be at once.

The red staining the dark costume caused bile to build up as the search becomes more desperate.

I have to find him.

The dull pain from nails bending and breaking as the rumble falls around her shaking frame. The choked panting caused the Doctor to find his friend quite easily. His friend desperately searching for something. Someone.

Why can’t I find him?

The question is answered with a patch of dark hair appears under a pile of rumble, the tips stained in red. There was so much…why is there so much…

A howl of pain rings out of the young woman’s throat as she clings to the body, her mentor just steps behind her, helpless as to how he can help her.

No one can help her. Like how no one helped her Ben.

——

A faint flash of orange alerts the sleeping man out of his endless dream. He looks around and doesn’t notice anyone at first. Miguel sighs, his paranoia running wild as he almost thought an enemy broke into his apartment, not that it would be a first. As he lays back down to sleep, a slight drag against the floor brings the hairs on the back of his neck to life.

He may not have a spider-sense, but he certain knew when someone was watching him. His talons burrow at as the sound patters closer to his bed. With out hesitation, he lunges towards the noise, his hands catching the form of an invisible figure as he rams them into the wall. A yelp with a whiff of vanilla and lavender stops him from ripping the invisible person’s throat out.

“Cariño?…” Miguel whispers as he retracts his claws. A faint whimpering emerges from the solid unseen being in front of him as her body materializes in the moonlight. The lines of her spider suit glowing an ethereal green as her mask disintegrates, revealing her tear stained face.

“What are you doing?” His eyebrows furrow as he looks at her suspiciously, despite knowing that she was the only one he knows wouldn’t hurt him. His mind blurs his confusion and frustration as he steps back to allow her to recover from being slammed into the wall. Certainly there wasn’t a big enough emergency that the beloved residential ray of sunshine would leave her room at The Lobby to break into his dimension, and bedroom to come get him.

“You know better than to use the gizmo to…” His scolding comes to a halt when the young woman hugs his figure, burning her head into his firm chest.

His shirt becomes wet with her tears as she sobs. The realization hits him as she whimpers into his touch.

She had the dream again.

No. She had the memory again.

His arms wrapped around her short frame as he buried his nose into her hair. Her scent filled the hole of sorrow her cries burned into him. As he rubs her back, her cries eventually stopped as she pulls away from him, an apology already waiting on her lips.

“I’m sorry, Miggy…it was really bad this time…” She mutters as she tries wiping her tears away as she forces a shy smile.

She felt ashamed for bothering him. Miguel was a busy man and she could have just stayed in her room at The Lobby, but the screams were too much.

His screams were too much.

Miguel doesn’t respond as he heads over to his dresser, pulling open a drawer. His face remaining emotionless as he retrieves a sweatshirt that sparked her familiarity.

The old gray crew neck sweatshirt with a fraying collar and mysterious stains along the sleeves. The old golden initials of NYU were cracked and picked apart due to many trips in the wash and anxious tendencies. A faint blush appears as she remembers the first time she ever saw that sweatshirt, the memory being one of her favorite…it was the first time she felt so warm since that day…

Miguel attracts her attention again when he rolls up the fabric in his hands and forces the neck over her head. Her hair sticking awkwardly as she peers up at Miguel in awe at how caring he was despite his annoyed expression.

“Brazos arriba, Sunshine.” He whispers as he helps her arms through the sleeves. She blindly follows him like a student being instructed. The taller spider stands back as he raises an eyebrow expectantly.

“I appreciate that you enjoy the suit I made you, mi luz.” Miguel states with a slight teasing smile. “But you probably wanna be more comfortable for bed.”

“Oh yea…” The small spider blushes in embarrassment as she disintegrates her suit back into her gizmo device. A shiver travels up her spine as the cold air on her legs, leaving her almost exposed except for the old sweatshirt.

“Now then,” Miguel sighs as he walks back over to his bed and crawls back under the covers. “I have several meetings in the morning, so I need to sleep.”

The little spider shuffles in her spot for a few moments as Miguel closes his eyes, getting ready to sleep again. With a nail between her teeth, the girl heads for the door to go find the couch when Miguel clears his throat. She turns back to look at him when she sees the covers beside him pulled back. Miguel’s open eye glaring at her as he groans. “It would be a lot easier for me to leave in the morning if you are in here and not in my way.”

A warm smile forms on her face as she excitedly comes into his bed. Miguel’s front facing her as his burgundy gaze burns with false annoyance and exhaustion. Miguel sighs as he feels the smaller being’s weight snuggles into his broad chest as expected.

“Thank you, Miggy.” She whispers. Her eyes peering up at him with gratitude and an emotion that only shines for him, his own secret that he will die to keep to himself.

Miguel rolls his eyes as his eyes meet hers, his warm cheeks hidden by the darkness. “Go to sleep, Cariño. You’re gonna need it for training.”

She giggles as she wraps her arms around his waist like a teddy bear. “Sweet Dreams, mi bonita araña..” She mumbles as she closes her eyes. His warmth fills the coldness of her nightmares as sleep draws her to peaceful breaths. Miguel remains frozen for a few moments as he makes sure she is deep in REM sleep before his gaze softens.

His rapidly beating heart acts as her lullaby as he places a kiss on her crown.

“Sweet dreams, mi vida…” He whispers into her scalp as his arms loom around her, acting as her shield before he slips into a sweet slumber in his light’s embrace.

[koiiiji]

I would...you tenderly roughly

my favourite russian songs + lookism boys (pt.2)

тебя нежно грубо (by TARAS) = Gitae Kim

author's note ; i will never stop romanticizing bad boys. im not even gonna say that this is ooc bc we don't even know his character yet, but i feel that gitae that type of men who mercilessly outside, but in bedroom can be completely different. but yet having his... moments...

author’s note 2 ; for better immersion in the atmosphere try to search akuma_asmr on reddit [masked yan] (or just dm me, i’ll send you link)

pairing ; gitae kim x reader

tw ; gitae kim himself is an a threat, DNI IF YOU ARE MINOR, f!reader, angst, toxic, stalking, non con, slight knife play, pet names, sensual but rough sex. this fic contains non consensual sex, read on your own risk

summary ; reader being a model who came to Mexico on her indefinitely long vacation to reconnect with herself and find some peace from loud and bright paparazzi, only to catch some certain attention.

꒰꒰・┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄・♡・┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄・꒱꒱

00:00 - 00:30 "you're on repeat in my dreams who are you, my naked drug? and if you are my thrill, dissolve yourself in me up, up, up your hands, you raised your hands up"

the sun dipped low over the Mexican horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the sprawling villa where you resided. villa, perched on a secluded beach, was meant to be a sanctuary for the weary, a place where the soul could find peace. a villa located on a secluded beach, surrounded by hills and rocks was supposed to become your shelter for about the next year, this place was supposed to become your healing, a place where you could hide from the stuffiness and dust of the big city from which you came, a place where your body finally then you could take a break from endless shows, filming, flashes of paparazzi cameras and the endless pursuit of fame and money, a place where your soul would find peace and solitude. this place was supposed to be a refuge… instead it became a gilded cage.

it’s not that you knew Gitae well - you were from different worlds - you are from the world of endless fabrics, chic, camera flashes, gloss, all kinds of bags, heels, suits and other rags, all this is your everyday life - shows, changes in looks, flights, new countries, jetlag and again and again. Gitae was from a world of violence, pain, blood, dirty money and endless fights. wars for territory and business, illegal deliveries and prohibited fraud, with everything that could be imagined were his daily routine, and this suited him quite well.

it seems one day, the owner of the agency - on behalf of which you worked, - threw a big party in honor of his birthday, just at one of the luxurious resorts in Mexico, and through Gitae’s people, various types of drugs and other illegal substances were delivered to that party. by this time, Gitae's business had grown so much that he rarely personally attended these types of transactions, but when did he refuse an invitation to secular parties? that's when he laid his eyes on you.

1:53 - 2:40 "i gently suffocate you i'll either choke you or you'll be mine and you put a knife to my throat - either i’ll stab you or will be yours i’ve never met anyone more cunning than you, but you’re making yourself look stupid but you know, it doesn’t matter much whether today you were voluntarily or by force i would take you gently, i would take you roughly i would...you gently-gently, i would...you roughly i would take you gently, i would take you roughly i would...you gently-gently, i would...you roughly" <...>

bare feet quietly padded on the white marble of your villa. the hem of a white, light silk robe silently trailed behind you as you got out of bed and headed towards the balcony. it's about three in the morning, and you still couldn't sleep. throwing the doors wide open as you step onto the terrace, the warm, gentle breeze from the ocean softly caresses your skin, carrying with it the faint scent of saltwater and tropical blooms. the night sky is filled with countless stars that twinkle like diamonds scattered across a velvet blanket. the Milky Way is clearly visible, its dense cluster of stars creating a shimmering river of light that stretches across the sky. the moon a glowing orb, casts a silvery reflection on the calm surface of the ocean, creating a path of light that seems to lead directly to the horizon.

quiet and solitude are rare and precious opportunity to reconnect with nature and yourself. as you breathe in the night air and gaze up at the star-studded sky, a profound sense of peace and contentment settles over you, until... '

"what are you doing here?" - your quiet voice cut through the distant noises of the night.

<...>

Gitae had eyes and ears everywhere. you have more than once noticed men in the crowd, - usually there are three of them - here and there, at the beginning of the street, from the other end of the market where you came for fresh fruit - a better choice than paraffined, plastic fruits in the supermarkets - and one is always in the car just few meters away, they were everywhere you went, keeping their distance, but making their presence known.

Gitae liked watching you, it was calming. there was so much lightness and calmness in your every movement and gesture that it seemed to him that you were producing the same effect on him… even from a distance. he liked to know where you were, who you were with - even if you spent almost all the time here alone or had small talk with lady from house keeping, who came a couple of times a week, and with the women at the market where you usually came to buy fruits or vegetables [the only thing you don’t know, is that this sweet woman was the mother of someone from the cortel, this small market was under their protection, and the fact that you periodically traveled several kilometers just to buy fruits from her honestly added adorability points to you in Gitae's eyes]- he liked control, and he knew that he was completely in control the situation is under control. although, to be honest, this could not be said about his… thoughts and desires, he would never admit that he felt anything other than desire towards you.

he would never admit to himself or anyone else about what emotions your sight awakens in him in the morning, when you, still half asleep, go out onto the terrace with a cup of tea clutched in your thin, slender fingers, or in the afternoon when you are basking in the rays of the sun, allowing fall asleep again while you are reading a book, or while you are sleeping. oh, this awakened in him the most familiar feelings for him, when he silently stood over you in your house, enjoying your sleeping look, your light, unobtrusive smell, looking at your cute face, looking at your things, maybe even taking that cute couple of lace panties with a bow for himself. at such moments blood rushed to his dick so much that it became painful.

<...>

it seemed to you that hours had already passed since he threw you onto the bed, bowing right in front of the bed and throwing your legs over his shoulders. contrary to the first impression that might have been formed about him, he was gentle… more precisely, his tongue on your pussy, but his hands roughly squeezed the skin on your thighs, rising higher, squeezing your waist, running along your ribs and going higher, to your chest, roughly kneading the delicate skin in his huge palms. Gitae wasn’t rough with you, kissing inner side of your thighs, your tummy, your clitor, but each of his touches felt like hot metal on thin, soft skin. maybe it was the huge knife with which a few minutes ago he, oh so carefully cut your panties and the cute little blouse in which you usually slept. oh, he said that if you turn away from him or fidget too much, he'll have to start using it.

but right now he was too busy with his tongue in your tight hole - “you like being humiliated like this, don’t you, bunny?” a deep growl vibration touched your bare pussy when he almost buried his nose in you. wet sounds filled the entire room, and you were embarrassed to admit to yourself that it was pretty hot. now one of his hands was squeezing both of your wrists on your tummy, while the other was caressing your thigh, moving his hand back and forth, not allowing you to twitch and sway your hips away from him, keeping you in place. Gitae is agonizingly slow, he likes to slowly coax your first orgasm out of you, lightly licking and teasing the tender bundle of nerves and the entrance to your tight slit. you are so pretty, lying on your huge bed, the sheets are rumpled, the blankets and pillows are scattered, half fell to the floor - the result of the little cute resistance that you tried to give to Gitae when he pushed you back into the room and threw you on the bed. even though he was now kneeling in front of your bed, burying his nose in your tight, sensetive cunny, you couldn’t help but feel the strength and dominance with which he was squeezing you, completely suppressing any attempts to resist. all that you could oppose to him was your sweet moans and quiet pleas for him to stop. he even liked it.

when the heat engulfed your entire body, trembling began to break through your legs and thighs, and without controlling yourself, you began to lean forward yourself, towards his tongue, searching for more friction. Gitae let out a low groan more like an animal growl, “there you are... good girl, now cum. cum on my tongue,” he growled protractedly letting go of your hands and cupping your ass cheeks with his huge, harsh palms, slightly lifting you above the bed, making you gasp, arching your back more and throwing your head back.

with a quiet hum, Gitae slowly licked the remains of your finish, teasing the sensitive, heated skin, allowing one finger to slip inside you, earning another pitiful moan.

“so sensitive and wet… and all mine…” his voice boomed somewhere above you as he stood up from his knees, his finger still inside you, probing the hot, gummy walls while your body instinctively tried to shrink into the fetal position and close yourself off from him. Gitae just grinned, leaning lower, crushing you under him, clinging to your plump pink lips, persistently sliding his tongue further, only to hiss a moment later and pull away from you, “fuck. did you just fucking bite me?” a loud slap rang out across the room and you yelped from the sharp, burning pain spreading across your butt cheek.

“come on, do it again,” he growled in your ear, slapping loudly again and pressing you harder into the mattress with his hips. his hands found yours again, grabbing your wrists and pressing them into the sheets above your head, pinning you completely to the bed. you felt your shoulder blades touching his bare chest, and something heavy was pressed into your ass and it clearly wasn't a knife in a sheath on his belt. “tell me, doll, you didn’t think that was all, yeah?” you felt his smirk on his lips and that mocking tone in his voice as he pinned you down on the bed with all his weight. “oh don’t worry bunny, i have so many plans for this night,” he purred in your ear, slightly biting your earlobe and slowly and persistently moving his hips, making you feel his boner in his jeans more strongly.

꒰꒰・┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄・♡・┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄・꒱꒱

it doesn’t matter to listen whole song just this part bc i got inspiration just from there🤟🏻🤌🏻

[guess-my-next-obsession]

the alchemy | i. the return (joel’s pov)

pairing: no outbreak!dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

chapter rating: Mature [18+ only, minors dni, dbf/secret relationship, age gap (joel is 34, reader is 24), just joel pining in secret, mention of cheating (past relationship), one mention of joel fantasizing about a blowjob]

summary: joel takes us through his inner monologue the day of reader’s return.

wc: 1k

the masterlist

She was back.

The woman who’d starred in every depraved fantasy I’d had since the day I met her had made her return to Austin, this time to stay.

I’d been mentally preparing for our reunion for weeks now, ever since her father let the news slip. I told myself that this time I’d finally be done with my little crush on the woman nearly a decade younger than me, but I knew how this story went.

Every time she came home to visit during her breaks from school, I told myself the exact same bullshit. And every time I came face to face with her, it all went to hell again. All she had to do was walk into a room, and I was back to secretly pining over her like a lovesick boy.

This time was no different.

When her and her dad pulled into the restaurant parking lot, I was already sweating. When she stepped out in those denim cutoffs, I’d melted completely.

She was the type of beautiful that required no frills to make a man fall to his knees. She could wear a burlap sack and I’d have no choice but to believe she was nothing less than a goddess.

I tried not to let my tongue wag too much as she walked over to Sarah, hugging her tight and complimenting her on her new braids. Her dad offered me a bit of distraction as he complained about needing to change out the brake pads on his truck, but even that wasn’t enough to tear my eyes away from her. From the woman I knew he’d never approve of me being with.

I couldn’t say I’d do any different if it was my own daughter in question.

When her eyes met mine, I felt the need to justify my ogling with a greeting.

“Welcome home,” I said, instead of what I longed to say—things that would’ve earned me a punch in the gut from her dad.

She mumbled a thanks in response, but seemed entirely disinterested in any further conversation with me. So I let it end there as we walked into the mexican spot that was apparently her favorite, according to her dad. I made a mental note of this new information. For what reason, I had no clue. It wasn’t like I’d ever be taking her out.

She avoided me at all costs throughout dinner, leaving me with no choice but to coax her into paying me some attention by asking her if she was still interested in babysitting. It was a genuine enough question. Sarah did need someone to look after her over the summer, and the last babysitter just never managed to click with her the way that she had. But I’d be lying if I said that it was strictly business, my asking.

When she said yes, my heart all but leapt out of my chest with relief. If she had said no, I would’ve had no excuse to see her, no excuse to talk to her.

I watched with greedy eyes as she sipped her drink through a straw, her lips wrapping around the bit of plastic. I instinctively licked my lips as she pulled away, swiping her tongue over her lips to collect the bit of lime-flavored liquor that coated them.

God, that mouth.

I’d thought about it almost every night. Even when I was with Mia, my ex, it was her I imagined. Those plump lips wrapping around me, working me until I came. And as horrible as it was to say, I never felt guilty about the fantasy. Especially now, knowing that the entire time, Mia had been having her own fun on the side.

I couldn’t imagine that the girl in front of me would hurt anyone in that way, and that drew me towards her all the more. She was so kind, so good that it hurt. I hoped whoever she had been with in the past had treated her with the same sort of respect that I dreamed of giving her, but I knew all too well what it was like to be a twenty-something year old boy. They’d likely not even noticed the gem that they held in the palm of their hands.

At the end of dinner, she gave Sarah a thorough goodbye, promising to come over the next day for a swim. I thanked God that it was a weekend, that I’d be home to catch a glimpse of her.

When I stepped over to tell her goodnight, she blew me off completely. I tried not to let the rejection sting. I had no reason to feel slighted, to feel disappointed, but it cut through me nonetheless.

Her dad muttered an apology, saying that she was likely just tired from a long day of unpacking, and I let myself believe him. It was better than thinking that she wanted nothing to do with me.

Even if I knew it was true.

Why else would she have agreed to go out with Tommy last summer? And according to him, the date went well. He refrained from spilling all the details, but from what he let on, I could’ve only assumed it ended with her in his crumb-filled sheets. It took me weeks to get the image out of my head, to be able to look my brother in the eye again.

Maybe one of these days I’d ask her about it myself. I wouldn’t let on that I disapproved of the two of them being together, either. Instead, I’d play the role of a nosy older brother who simply just wanted to know whether his brother was treating her right, or if he was fucking things up like he so often liked to do when a good woman entered his life.

But truthfully, it didn’t matter what the two had going on. She could hate him or love him, I didn’t care.

My crush was here to stay.

Even if I had no chance in the world with her.

[rebelliousstories]

His Girl

Relationship: Luke Alvez x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Suggestive Themes

Word Count: 1,095

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Summary: When Luke speaks about his girl, people assume now that he is talking about Roxy. Although he does love his dog, he is not speaking about her.

“What are your plans for the weekend, Alvez?” Jennifer called out to her teammate who was packing up his effects.

“Just hanging out with my girl. Gonna take it easy the whole weekend.” He replied with a big smile on his face.

“Ah, date night with Roxy. Sounds like a dream.” She teased, beginning to pack up her own things.

“Yeah. Date night with the girl.” Luke reiterated; his mind wandered for a minute.

“Oh, big night I’m assuming?” JJ asked, stopping her movements for a bit.

“Not really. It’s just the first time we’ve been able to have a night to ourselves in a while.” He said, drumming his fingers against the desk.

“Who’s having a date night? What’s going on?” Garcia asked, coming around the corner with Rossi.

“Luke is apparently planning a big date night with Roxy.” JJ teased again, to which the man chuckled once more.

“Listen, tomorrow night. Dinner at my place. Spouses welcome for a family.” Rossi stated, looking towards everyone.

“Mind if I bring my girl?” Luke asked, whipping his phone out and beginning to type.

“As much as I love Roxy, we’re having a dog free dinner.” Rossi shot back, and Luke typed out a message before pocketing his phone.

“Understood. Text the details, but I’ve gotta get going before I get in trouble.” Luke bid them goodbye, and left the building. As soon as he got into his car, his phone rang.

“Hey, pretty lady. Yes, I’m leaving now. Yeah I can pick up some takeout. Whatcha want? Mexican? Alright, whatever my girl wants. Be home soon.” He hung up, and began to drive. All he could think about was getting home to his girl. The time getting the food was spent daydreaming about that evening. Arriving home, Luke poked his head around trying to find a sign of life.

“Baby? Anybody home?” He called out, looking around as he entered the apartment. The sound of nails clicking on the floor alerted him to his dog coming to see his owner.

“Roxy! Hey girl, where’s your mom, huh?” He asked, giving her lots of scratches around her face, ears, and chin. Footsteps followed the same path the Sheppard was just walking to the excited sound of a woman.

“Baby, you’re home!” Luke poked his head up and found just who he was looking for.

“Hey sweetheart.” He stood and opened his arms, to which she launched herself into happily. Luke picked her up by the backs of her thighs and walked them over to the counter to set down the food and his girlfriend. Pulling away just a little, he stood very close to her and shared a sweet kiss.

“I have missed you.” He whispered, ducking his head into the crook of her neck.

“I missed you too baby. How was your day?” She asked, stroking a hand through his curls.

“Good. Just a paperwork day. Listen,” he pulled away a little bit more, “there’s a dinner tomorrow night. Family BAU night, spouses included. I want you to meet my team tomorrow night.”

“Okay. Yeah, let’s do it. You got dinner for tonight though, right?” She asked, patting his chest. Luke chuckled and pulled away, and tapped the styrofoam boxes next to them.

“Right here, my lady.” He replied, feeling a chuckle bubble to the surface as he pressed another kiss to her lips.

“Well, let’s have dinner and I’ll show you how excited I am to meet your team finally.” She trailed a hand over his chest, and leaned into her lover.

“Ooo, I love the sound of that.” Luke responded, bringing her in for another kiss.

The next evening, everyone was gathered around the dinner table. They were just waiting on Luke to arrive, and talking about it in the meantime.

“So do you think that Luke is gonna bring Roxy? Cause I’m totally okay with that, even if Rossi is not.” Garcia gushed with a glass of wine in hand.

“Who knows? I mean, that is the only female Luke has ever mentioned in his life.” Spencer piped up with his own glass of wine.

“I know, but like Rossi said no dogs and I kind of want a Roxy exception to that.” Garcia commented. Just then, a pick up truck pulled into the spacious driveway of David’s house. They waited for the man to walk through the house and come into the backyard. Everyone turned to face the door to the house from the backyard,and watched as a man and a woman walked through that door.

“Who is that?” Garcia asked with her voice squeaking.

“Hey everybody.” Luke chimed in, walking with a hand on the woman’s back.

“Welcome. Who is this lovely lady?” David walked up to the couple, and brought the man in for a hug. She provided her name while shaking hands with the agent.

“It’s so lovely to meet everyone finally.” She stated, scanning her eyes over the rest of agents around the tables.

“Well, Bella, we are oh so excited to meet you. Come and sit.” Rossi held out his arm, looped hers through it, and led her over to the table. Luke chuckled as he shook his head and walked over to the table as well. Making her rounds of introductions, she learned each one of the other agents names while giving them her own. Luke pulled out her seat and made sure she was settled before moving on to getting into his own.

“So you’re with Alvez? I mean, how does he land someone like you?” Penelope asked, absolutely floored by the woman before her. She laughed as she held hands with her boyfriend underneath the table.

“Yes, we’re together. Um, well we met in a dog friendly bookstore. It had a little coffee shop attached and that’s where Roxy came up to me. She introduced me to her dad, and that was that.” She explained, looking over at her lover with a gleam in her eyes.

“Oh, that is straight out of a romance novel.” Tara piped in with, sipping her wine.

“It kind of was. I was shocked to find my dream girl in the middle of Barks and Books. But here we are.” Luke proclaimed, gazing right back at his girlfriend. Rossi raised his glass, leading the whole team in a toast.

“To the happy couple we did not know was here the whole time.” Glasses clinked, and cheers were started all around the table. Sips were taken, and Luke was glad that his team could finally meet his girl.

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part 13

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader Summary: Miguel has a nightmare. Word Count: 25,905 (I was really aiming for less than 20k, I'm sorry) Warnings: Miguel talks about his life before Gabriella and his nightmares; emotional Miguel, he tears up (I'm sorry); soft Miguel; he makes progress, so the sad parts are worth it for his healing; I tried to include some translations of the Spanish within the text as it's dialogue for Miguel; it's just an emotional night for both reader and Miguel Masterlist Music Inspo (You can find the official Spotify playlist for the fanfic here) "Vigil" - Bill Conti, David Duke (instrumental) "Flaws" - Vancouver Sleep Clinic "Mexican Dream" - Piero Piccioni (instrumental) "Me Before You Orchestral" - Craig Armstrong (orchestral) "Someone To Stay" - Vancouver Sleep Clinic "Philadelphia Morning" - Bill Conti (instrumental) "I'll Be Good" - Jaymes Young "Here with Me" -d4vd "Ladyfingers" - Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass (instrumental)

Part 13

Miguel flicks a screen away. It's about 5 o’clock in the afternoon and he knows that by now, the energy in the Spider Society’s HQ is dwindling. The morning and afternoon buzz is dying down. The chatter of the cafeteria is replaced with quiet murmurs, and the hallways should be less stuffy, no longer occupied by groups of spider people heading out on missions or training, or for casual hanging out.

Soon, the building will be empty and it will only be him who remains. For about an hour or so before he, too, goes home.

That fact alone is an indication of progress and Miguel knows it. Almost a year ago, Miguel used to work through the night. Every night. He fought sleep with caffeine, rubbed his eyes, and shook his head as if that helped shed his exhaustion. When it got too much, he’d take breaks and walk the vacant hallways. It was only until he was beyond exhaustion, when his body begged him for sleep, that Miguel would take naps.

That has changed, however, and now he goes to the penthouse every night. Some days he stays at HQ a little later when it’s necessary, but not like he used to when he’d spent the nights here in the lab. Alone. It was on those dark and lonely hours that Miguel would wish for daylight, wish for the buzz from the Spider Society, even if he was inside his lab. Now, he actually sees his bedroom every night, where he sleeps and rests because his nightmares have decreased. They’re no longer daily like they used to.

Yes, in an hour or so, Miguel will head home for the day because he’s made it one of his goals to move forward. He’s stuck with it ever since his near death experience as he promised his family that he would try. He goes home even when some evenings are harder than others, when he finds himself utterly alone in such a large and empty space, but little things have made it easier. It’s all little things, and they’re all directly linked to you.

You, who is now living with him.

Temporarily.

Miguel has to remind himself. This arrangement is just for a few months, if your landlord actually manages to make the building livable again within that time span. And then, you’ll be back at your apartment. Back at your universe.

And the penthouse will be empty again.

Miguel scoffs at himself. A large hand covers part of his face in frustration. You’ve only stayed at the penthouse for a few weeks and he already hates the feeling, the simple idea of you being gone. It frustrates him. He feels other emotions stir within him at the idea; emotions that are heavy and raw. And that’s something he dislikes. That he feels like that. He doesn’t let himself explore those emotions yet but he knows he’ll have to when the time comes.

Miguel drops his arm at his side and glares at one of his screens. He needs to focus. There’s still some things he needs to get done today before he heads out. Less than a year ago, he wouldn’t be worried about finishing up before his personal deadline because he had no plans to leave. He could work through the evening, through the night, but that’s different recently. He wants to go home to keep his promise, and there’s also you. Your temporary stay at the penthouse makes Miguel feel even more inclined to leave, to finish soon so he can meet you there.

It’s so strange to Miguel. So beautifully strange to want to go home.

He looks at the time. Soon, you’ll be coming in to tell him that you’re heading out for the day. You started to let him know months ago, right after his accident when he asked if you wanted to help him with the weekly reports, a new responsibility within the Spider Society. Miguel remembers the first few times it happened. He felt that you didn’t have to let him know since this isn’t a proper job per say but you kept doing it every day, and soon he found that your daily visit before you went home was a silent reminder. He started to think that if you were going home, maybe it was time for him to wrap things up and head home himself, especially with his newly made promise to his family to try and do better. Your daily goodbye, then, has continued over the months, even now when you live with him.

As Miguel stares blankly at the screen, he thinks about how you always say you’re heading to the “penthouse.” He doesn’t know why but he picked up on that small detail, how you never say “home.” He knows it’s not your home like your apartment, where it’s far more welcoming, homey, and cozy. His penthouse has been the same for years since Gabriel and his mom helped him decorate it, and it lacks warmth, personality, and love. Or at least, that’s how Miguel views it. He hopes that’s the reason and not due to you feeling uncomfortable or unwelcome at the penthouse because when Miguel said that his home was yours, he meant it.

Miguel blinks and refocuses his gaze back to the information on the screen, trying to concentrate. He wants to get this done quickly but he finds it hard to concentrate. There’s a report to read about a specific universe, then there’s reports on anomaly matter to inspect, and he needs to check the gizmos because an update might be necessary again. As the list goes on in his head, Miguel grows tense. There’s so much to do and he can’t focus.

He sighs as he steps off his platform and heads to one of the desks in the lab, heading straight to a locked drawer that in seconds is open. He retrieves the fabric, feeling its weight on his hand. It belongs to him but it smells like you.

He brings it close to his face and inhales. He blinks a few times and slowly feels grounded as he continues to breath in your scent. He didn’t plan this, it never occurred to him, really.

He sighs again, this time not in frustration but in relief. He feels better. He lowers the fabric and glances at it, his scarf.

Several weeks ago, he wrapped it around your neck to keep you warm on New Year’s Eve when he noticed you shivering as you and the rest of the spider gang were waiting to welcome the new year at Miles’s universe. Then, he used it to dry your tears when you cried in gratitude over the fact that you’re no longer alone like all those years after your Peter’s death. You took it with you that night. Both of you forgot that you had it. You brought it to him on the Spider Society’s first business day of the new year, apologizing for forgetting to give it back that night and of course, Miguel dismissed the apology. There was no problem nor need to apologize, he said back then as he accepted it, immediately noticing your scent on it from wearing it. He didn’t make mention of it though and he ended up pushing that knowledge aside as the two of you began to talk about something else.

It was hours later that same day when he found himself cursing in Spanish in frustration at something, he can’t even remember what it was about now, when he eyed the scarf. He was alone, not even Lyla was around to poke fun at him about it, so he felt safe to do what he did. He brought it to his face and inhaled your comforting scent, thinking that if it comforted him to sleep, surely it would help him in that moment. And it did. Of course, it did.

He found himself feeling calmer. Hell, he was suddenly in a good mood. All because of your scent on his scarf. He placed it back on his platform and returned to work afterwards, feeling much calmer about whatever had been frustrating him in the moment. A while later that same day, you came into the lab to work on the weekly report and noticed the scarf on his platform, close to Miguel. Apparently you noticed it the next day, and the day after that. It was on the fourth day after bringing it back that you found Miguel moving it out of sight since he knew you were going to join him for lunch. It was the fact that he still kept it around for so many days, close to him, that made you wonder. And that was how you guessed that, maybe, he was keeping it around the lab for comfort.

Two days after that, Miguel noticed that the scarf had lost your scent but in you came that day from patrolling, rubbing your arms and claiming you were very cold. You were wearing your suit and a light jacket that you brought in that day. So, there was Miguel, looking for one of his old jackets in one of the supply closets in his lab and handing it to you, but you were still cold, or so you said.

Miguel chuckles softly now as he puts the scarf back in the drawer, locking it again. He shakes his head gently, thinking about how attentive and cunning you are, and how well you know him. You noticed the scarf and figured out what he was doing, and then planned the perfect moment because after he gave you one of his jackets, you claimed to still be cold.

“I guess today I’m just more sensitive to the cold,” you said as you opened a laptop, wearing his jacket - a sight that made Miguel pause for a few seconds - before you continued. “I’m so cold I could throw on some gloves and a scarf even though we’re inside,” you joked, giving him a short, knowing glance before you turned your attention back to the laptop.

Miguel then blinked and looked at his scarf, the sight of you wearing his jacket was for some reason causing something like a short circuit in his brain, before he picked it up and took it to you. He placed it around your neck, letting you fix it to your liking.

“I’ll see what the thermostat is at. Sometimes members mess with it,” Miguel offered as he stepped back, looking at you now wearing his scarf, too.

“I’ve seen some members mess with it before, but I think I’m okay now,” you said, fixing the scarf and pulling it a little closer to you, under the jacket with a soft smile. “Thank you, I hope you don’t mind me wearing it for a little bit…”

Miguel shook his head. “I don’t mind at all. You can wear it however long you need to,” he said, returning the soft smile before he walked back to his platform again.

“Thank you. It’s so warm and cozy. So comforting.”

That made Miguel turn to look at you. You were typing on the laptop already but he could see your little knowing smile, as if sensing that he had turned to look at you because of your choice of word. And that’s how Miguel knew you knew about the scarf.

As Miguel steps back on his platform now, more focused, he recalls that just yesterday you wore it again while you were organizing the lab. Instead of making you come up with a little plan like you did the first time, Miguel took it upon himself this time. He grabbed the scarf and once he approached you, he placed it around your neck, catching you by surprise.

“Just in case you’re cold,” he said softly before proceeding to walk to the door. “I’ll be right back. Want a coffee?” he asked, turning to look at you with a little smirk.

You nodded as you held one of the many pieces of technology Miguel uses with a glimmer in your eyes, staring at him and wondering. “Yes… I’d like one, please.”

“Anything else?”

“I’m alright with just the coffee, thank you.”

“Always,” Miguel replied before he exited only to hear you chuckle right before he walked out, a sound that made him smiled. Now you know that he knows you know about the scarf.

“What are you smiling about?”

Miguel’s smile turns into a soft scowl towards Lyla.

“I wasn’t smiling.”

“Right…”

“How did the last mission go?” Miguel responds instead, which makes Lyla snort.

“We’re taking the denial route, okay… It went well. Anomaly captured, no problems. By the way, Y/N is asking if she can come in.”

“Why did you take so long to tell me? Yes, tell her to come in! I already told her she doesn’t need to do that,” Miguel says with a soft frown as Lyla disappears. Miguel silently wonders if you will ever not ask. He’s not sure at this point.

He reads some information from his screen, more focused than earlier and this time he manages to read past a paragraph of data before he hears your footsteps. He turns around to face you, to give you his full attention.

“Hey, almost done?” you ask as you approach the platform.

“I have a few things left but I’ll be done in an hour or so. You heading out?” he asks, resting a hand on his platform, peering down at you since his platform is about three feet above the ground.

You nod with a little smile. “Yeah, I’m going to my universe to patrol for a little while before I come back.”

Miguel nods. “Alright, just be careful. Let me know if you need something, okay?”

“I will, don’t worry. If you need me to come back and help somehow, just let me know.”

Miguel nods again, grinning softly. “I will, thank you, but I should have it covered.” At least now that he’s no longer struggling to concentrate, he silently thinks. “I’ll see you at the penthouse in a bit for dinner,” he adds.

“Alrighty! I’m heading out now then,” you reply with a smile before you turn to leave.

“Careful!” Miguel calls out, watching you leave.

“I will, see you at home!” you say softly, walking into a pocket of darkness and disappearing from Miguel’s sight.

He stares into the darkness, your words sinking in. He finally turns to face his screen, a small smile adorning his face again.

“See you at home,” he says to himself before he focuses on the task at hand once again, determined to finish his tasks within an hour, so he can head home soon.

🌕

When Miguel steps into the penthouse, he walks slowly. His red eyes scan the space and he admires how different it feels. The penthouse is the same as always in its appearance. Nothing is out of place, there is no new furniture, or even a new photo frame. And yet…

The warm light from lamps in the living room are a welcoming sight to Miguel. The fireplace is on, instantly warming his face from the cold since he was just outside for a quick patrol in Nueva York. Then, there’s his record player, already playing music and filling the penthouse with a comforting sound. That’s not the only sound his ears register though. He stays still and listens to the sounds coming from the kitchen. He grins and walks further in, entering the space you’re in. You’re by the stove, stirring something and there’s Lyla, hovering next to you. Miguel raises an eyebrow at this. As soon as he turned off his screens, she dipped with a quick “bye” before he could even say something. Apparently she was more than ready to keep you company here at the penthouse.

“And what are you going to add next?” Lyla asks hovering, peering down at the stove.

“The spices,” you reply.

“Right, right - Oh, Miguel. You finally join us,” Lyla says noticing him.

You turn around and find him by the entrance of the kitchen. He gives you a nod and a little smile.

“Just got here. I did a quick patrol… It smells amazing,” he says nodding to the stove.

“I barely just got started since I showered after I came back. I got caught up at my universe with some petty thieves, nothing serious but it definitely took some time. Food should be ready in half an hour or so though,” you reply with a smile.

Miguel nods, thinking about a shower for himself. He feels grimy after venturing out into Nueva York to patrol. “May I help you with something?” he offers.

“Thank you, but it’s alright. I got it! If you want to do something else in the meantime you can. I’ll let you know when it’s ready,” you respond.

Miguel nods again, knowing that tonight you don’t want any help. The two of you have settled into a routine after only a few weeks, and the cooking is definitely one of those things you both figured out quickly. It’s something that you insisted wanting to help with as a way to “contribute.” Miguel had to respect that only to ease your mind, though he would’ve had no problem with you not “contributing” as you called it. Either way, you both figured out the cooking. On some nights, Miguel cooks while on other nights you do it. And then, there’s the other nights when you cook together, which you both seem to really enjoy, but tonight, it seems that you prefer to do it alone, which Miguel respects.

“You sure?” he still asks, raising an eyebrow. He still offers, just in case you need help.

“I’m sure,” you reply, smiling.

“Alright then. I’m going upstairs to take a quick shower, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, go ahead.”

He gives you a small grin before he turns and heads upstairs to take a shower, leaving you with Lyla, who is still hovering next to you. She continues to ask you questions as you make dinner, which you find amusing and don’t mind at all. Miguel comes back a short while later, showered and clad in lounging clothes, a sight you’ve become familiar with as has he with you because of the current living arrangement.

You serve dinner for the two of you and like every night since you’ve stayed, you have dinner together and talk about the day. And it feels normal and right.

You thought it would take a few days to get used to living here, to sharing a space with someone after so long but it didn’t.

Even Miguel believed the same thing. He thought it’d take a minute to get used to the little changes like coming to the penthouse and finding the lamps on at the living room. Or to get used to the sight of you moving around the kitchen with ease, or his ears being greeted by music along with mundane, cozy sounds from someone else living with him. To the scent of food already cooking, to the warmth, but it didn’t take long for either of you to get used to any part of living together. If anything, it feels like you were only away for a while but you’re back now, picking up right where you left off.

It’s a strange sensation, but an even more comforting one. You quickly settled into routines, and the details you were so worried about like the groceries and cooking, worked themselves out.

After dinner, the two of you clean the kitchen together. That’s something that you do together every night, no matter who cooks. Your conversations usually continue and move to the living room, where you spend the rest of the evening together, though sometimes you part ways to give each other space.

Tonight, the two of you remain in the living room. The TV is on and some telenovela is airing. You’re each sitting on a couch. Miguel is working from a tablet, looking at a different design for the gizmos. You’re on your tablet, too, but lazily drawing. You look up at the TV as a scene unfolds, the audio catching your attention.

“Paloma!” the male protagonist cries out in an agave field, angrily and heartbroken it seems. Miguel looks up, too, and watches.

The man talks about his love starting and ending on the land before he curses the woman and her love.

Miguel turns to look at you, noticing that the telenovela has caught your attention. He grins softly and waits until it cuts to the commercials.

“This is a new version. There’s about two or three other versions that have been filmed over the years,” Miguel says, sharing that little piece of information.

You turn to him and smile softly. “You watched any of them?”

“One. It came out several years ago when I was about… thirteen or so. This one has nothing on that one,” he says, thinking. He looks down at his screen. “They don’t make them like they used to, I can tell you that.”

You chuckle softly. “So you used to watch telenovelas?”

Miguel looks up at you again and nods after a few seconds. “Yes, it was kind of impossible not to. My mom always watched them in the evening while Gabriel and I worked on homework on the dining room table. She would keep an eye on us from the couch but Gabriel and I sometimes got distracted with the super dramatic scenes,” Miguel says with a little smile. “And of course, we found the kissing scenes gross, especially Gabriel.”

You laugh softly, imagining both Gabriel and Miguel as little kids and finding those scenes gross. You can’t help but think about how different Miguel’s life would be if only Gabriel was still here, and how you wish you could’ve met him. You can only imagine the banter between the two brothers based on what Miguel has shared so far.

Miguel looks at the TV for a few seconds before he returns his gaze back to you. “If you’d like to, I could show it to you. That other version. I can probably find it on one of the streaming platforms since it’s been some years since it came out.”

You hum in response and nod. “Well, you’re saying this is nothing compared to that one, so you’ve piqued my interest now.”

Miguel chuckles softly and nods. “Very well then, let me look for it. Even the intro song of this new one is nothing to the other version’s.”

You grin softly, amused at how Miguel is basically saying that the current version sucks.

Miguel quickly finds it on one of his universe’s streaming platforms. “Alright, we can probably watch an episode or two before we head to sleep,” he says since the two of you head to your respective bedrooms at around 10pm each night.

You sit excitedly as Miguel clicks on the first episode. After you watch the intro song, you nod in approval.

“What do you think?” Miguel says with a little grin.

“I trust your telenovela expertise,” you reply and that makes him laugh softly before the two of you begin to watch the first episode.

You subtly turn to look at Miguel as the episode starts. His attention is definitely on the screen and what’s playing out. You wonder if he’s still reminiscing on the years he used to watch it with Gabriel from his childhood dining table before you tell yourself to pay attention. At one point, the male protagonist makes his appearance and you can’t help but notice that he’s very attractive, even sliding on some round glasses that makes your eyes widen. You understand why the female protagonist reacts the way she does when she first sees him.

“Look at that man that just got down. He’s so… Handsome. Ave María Purísima, never in my life have I seen a man so… beautiful,” the female protagonist says as she sees him, watching the man in awe. You can’t help but nod. He is very handsome. [Hail Mary Most Pure, conceived without sin.]

“That’s Mr. Rodrigo. He and his siblings were sent away to study very far away since they were little,” the female protagonist’s mother says while she continues to gaze the handsome man.

The episode continues on before you have a small realization. Your eyes widen a little before you turn to look at Miguel subtly, noticing that the male protagonist looks a little like Miguel. You turn back to the screen, hiding your little grin and paying attention to the telenovela again.

Miguel turns every once in a while to look at you, subtly smiling as he sees you’re hooked. He swears he even saw you become a little flustered with Rodrigo.

“The foreshadowing,” you say quietly, chuckling and grinning as the two protagonists kneel side by side at the front of the church during Rodrigo’s grandfather’s funeral service, meeting unofficially for the first time, their paths crossing.

“I’m not giving any spoilers,” Miguel replies with a teasing tone.

You turn to him, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “I know they’re going to get together by the end of this.”

“I guess you’ll have to keep watching to find out.”

You shake your head in disbelief at him before turning your attention back to the screen, making a little noise when Rodrigo and Gaviota make eye contact at the altar, and the way Rodrigo smiles at her.

“I’m pretty certain they’re going to be together by the end.”

“Is that so?”

“I mean… That smile says it all.”

“Has someone, other than Gaviota, taken a liking to Rodrigo?”

“Maybe,” you reply, pulling your blanket higher up your body, and turning your face away from Miguel so he doesn’t see your reactions anymore because the telenovela has you on the verge of giggling and kicking your feet.

Miguel grins, pretty sure you’ve gained a little crush on the male protagonist.

The two of you continue to watch the telenovela and manage to watch two episodes before 10pm. Once the second episode finishes, the two of you call it a night. Miguel turns off the TV and you fold your blanket, ready to take it upstairs with you. It’s the one that you always have on your couch back at your universe for when you chill on your couch. You brought it along a day after the fire and bring it downstairs with you when you hang out in Miguel’s living room, but you never leave it on the couch, something Miguel has noticed. He’s certain that you take it upstairs because you’re still thinking about not “disrupting” his life or space with your stay. After picking up his tablet and putting it on the coffee table, Miguel turns to you as you tuck the blanket under your arm to grab your own tablet.

“You know you can leave it here, right?”

“Hm?” you respond, startled.

“Your blanket. You can leave it here, on the couch. If you’d like to, of course. I know that’s the one you always have on your own couch,” Miguel says softly as the fireplace and some of the lamps turn off thanks to Lyla, who’s nowhere in sight.

“Oh, right… I just don’t want to, you know,” you respond, nodding to his couch. “You have no clutter so I don’t want to make your living room look… messy.”

Miguel snorts softly, amused with your statement and the fact that he’s right. You’re trying to make your stay in the penthouse as subtle as possible. He’s noticed you don’t leave your jackets or coats around. Even small things like hair accessories and jewelry are not left behind. He often comes home and finds something of the sorts on the counter from you taking it off to cook or unwind on the kitchen counter, only to see it gone not even an hour later, all traces of your stay in his home gone.

It doesn’t bother Miguel to see your personal items throughout the space in the slightest. If anything, the sight of someone else’s items laying around comforts him. It’s nice to see that there’s someone else occupying the space with him. And yet, you think it’s going to “clutter” his space. Miguel shakes his head, crossing his arms over his broad chest with a small grin. “A blanket isn’t going to make the living room messy. You can leave it on the couch. I already told you, many times by the way,” Miguel says, raising an eyebrow. “My home is your home. And if anything, your blanket adds personality to my very basic decorations. So please, if you want to, just leave the blanket here. You don’t have to remove your personal belongings from the shared spaces like it’s going to upset me. It doesn’t.” Miguel pauses and frowns softly. “If anything, it’s upsetting that you think it would…” His frown fades but as he continues, his tone is firm yet gentle. “You’re welcomed here, Y/N. Always.”

You smile warmly at him and nod slowly. You’ve definitely been trying to make your stay subtle and avoid letting even small personal belongings take over Miguel’s space.

“Thank you… I know you mean it but I still don’t want to make it feel like it’s my…” you trail off because you’re about to say “home.”

“And I’m telling you it is, so…” Miguel says and trails off, his arms dropping to his sides.

You nod again and sigh softly, holding his gaze. You can feel the fabric under your arm, still tucked. You pull it and look at it for about five seconds before you lay it over the couch’s armrest you always sit on. The color of your blanket is a nice contrast to Miguel’s grey couch. You turn back to Miguel, finding a small smile on his face because you finally placed the blanket down.

You grin at him. “Alright, the blanket can stay there.”

Miguel chuckles softly and nods. “Good. It’s about time you stop carrying the poor thing back and forth, you know? Give it a home.”

“It’ll stay here,” you reply softly, and Miguel smiles gently. You continue to grin and nod towards the stairs. “You heading to sleep?”

“Yes. Long day tomorrow,” Miguel says.

“But it’s Friday. It’s the best day of the week,” you reply.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

Miguel chuckles softly as the two of you start up the stairs, the remaining of the lights turning off now that you’re both going to sleep.

“I believe you,” he says as you step aside, stopping in front of the bathroom door. Miguel takes a few more steps before turning to face you. “Good night.”

“Good night. See you in the morning,” you state softly, smiling at him before you push the door open and slip inside the bathroom to do your night routine.

Miguel stands there for a few seconds, his ears registering the sound of running water from inside the bathroom before he walks the remaining of the way to his own bedroom. As he makes the short walk to his own bathroom, he thinks about the little routines the two of you have created in such a short amount of time, like saying good night to each other. It started the first night you spent at the penthouse and it was you who said it first. Now, no matter if you spend the entire evening together or in separate areas of the space, you wish each other a good night. Miguel sighs softly as he reaches for his toothbrush, realizing that your temporary stay has spoiled him in a way. He’s grown used to these routines too quickly, too happily.

He rolls his shoulders as he brushes his teeth, telling himself it’s okay that he’s grown used to it. It’s been a while since he’s shared a space with someone, and the fact that it’s with you, with someone he trusts and cares about, only makes him appreciate the company even more. He tells himself that everything will be alright, even when your apartment is ready to go and you can return.

He nods to himself, reassuring the man in the mirror only for a few seconds before he looks away. He turns on the water and continues his routine, ready for bed.

You splash water on your face to wash off your cleanser before you continue on with your night routine. You return to your bedroom and get on the bed, snuggling into the covers instantly. You stare at the ceiling as you wait for the sleepiness to come.

You’ve settled into Miguel’s penthouse without any trouble. All your clothes have been washed, to get rid of the smoke smell, and now occupy the closet. Pictures of your friends, parents, and Peter occupy the hanging shelves. All of Peter's belongings can be found on the bookcase. The dresser has become the home of your jewelry and other personal items. The once empty bedroom that belonged to Gabriel has become yours in a short amount of time.

Your routines have merged in the most perfect, subtle way. So seamlessly. You each have a specific day to do your laundry. You agreed on the cooking and the groceries. You help with the cleaning, something that Miguel wasn’t too keen about, but you convinced him after you told him that you wished to as it would give you a sense of normalcy since it’s something you’re used to doing at your own place anyway. You have breakfast and dinner together at the penthouse, and spend most of the evenings together in the living room.

Everything about this unexpected change has fallen into place seamlessly.

You sigh softly and roll onto your side, closing your eyes. You’ve grown used to this change so fast, maybe too fast. You cannot deny that it has been great - amazing, really - sharing a space with someone. Up until Peter’s death, you had never lived by yourself. You spent your entire childhood, adolescence, and early adult years living with your parents until you graduated from college. Then, you moved in with Peter, and the thought of living alone never crossed your mind since you were with him. You knew that from that point onward, Peter and you were going to live together for the rest of your lives. Except, life had different plans. Peter passed away and you were suddenly living alone for the first time ever. It was another feeling you had to grow used to.

You eventually had to accept it. You had no other choice. You had to accept that your once shared apartment, was suddenly just your own. Now, living with Miguel has brought up those memories, those feelings of what it's like to share a space with someone. You’ve realized, that you miss it and that you're enjoying this a little too much.

Miguel doesn’t make it any easier, either. He’s the perfect roommate and there’s also the little fact that you only recently realized. It allowed you to understand even more why you’re comfortable with this temporary arrangement, why you’re enjoying sharing a space with Miguel.

You roll to your other side. You can feel yourself succumbing to sleep as you think of your recent realization. You think about Peter, of who he was to you. He was more than your romantic partner, more than your boyfriend. He started off as something else before he turned into your boyfriend, and he continued to be it until his last day. He always will. At least, one of them.

The thing was that you never thought you’d find someone like that again, but you did. You realize now that you have.

You open your eyes briefly, your sleepy gaze taking in your current bedroom in Miguel’s home.

Across the multiverse.

-*-

You wake up. Your eyes are met with the sight of your pillow before you slowly look around the bedroom. You blink softly, searching for something. You don’t know what you’re looking for as you’re only met by Nueva York’s noises.

You sit up slowly and glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s 2:43am and the penthouse is silent, or seems so, at least. You lay down again and readjust the covers, closing your eyes as an attempt to go back to sleep. You shift in bed, trying to get comfortable once more, but there’s still something that tugs at you.

Your spidey senses go off, causing you to open your eyes and sit up again. In a matter of seconds, you’re reaching for your suit to change. You hastily begin to tug your sweatshirt off but stop midway when you hear something*.* It fills the silence in Miguel’s penthouse, causing you to freeze.

“Gabriella… Gabi… No, Gabi…”

Your heart sinks as Miguel’s voice reaches your ears. You fix your top as you walk towards the bedroom door, and before you know it, you step out into the hallway and walk the short distance between the bedrooms. You stop in front of Miguel’s room. His door is ajar, allowing his voice to spill out into the hallway and carry to your room.

You stand in front of the door, your hand in midair, hesitating. It’s clear Miguel is having a nightmare, based on the tone of his voice, which only makes your heart ache more. You know that after losing Gabriella, Miguel has been having them. It’s the reason why he avoided sleep and worked through the nights for so long.

“Gabi! Perdóname - Hija - Perdóname - Gabriella, por favor - Perdóname, hija,” Miguel says in his sleep, his tone filled with sorrow and guilt. “Please, I’m so sorry.” ["Gabi! Forgive me - Daughter - Forgive me - Gabriella, please - Forgive me, daughter"]

Hearing Miguel’s tone, so painful and emotionally distressing, is all it takes. You push the door open and walk towards his bed, putting aside any worries about Miguel becoming upset or uncomfortable with your presence during such a vulnerable moment. You silently decide you can deal with that. You can handle the consequences of an upset or uncomfortable Miguel, but what you cannot handle nor bear any longer, is listening to him like this. You cannot stand by and hear him like this one more second, not when your heart feels like it’s being ripped apart for him.

You reach his side of the bed in no time. Miguel moves his head side to side in his sleep, his eyebrows knitted as if searching for something. Someone. He’s kicked off his covers, which are now bunched at the end of the bed.

“Gabi,” he calls out again. “Lo siento mucho, mija.” [I'm so sorry, my daughter.]

You gulp softly before you speak. “Miguel… Miguel, it’s me. I’m here,” you say gently yet firmly. “I’m here.”

You look down at his hand closest to you. It’s in a fist as is his other hand. You softly tap it, your fingertip gingerly touching it out of respect.

“I’m here, Miguel,” you say as you tap his hand again with your one finger.

You keep talking to him, hoping that you don’t startle him too much, though you cannot wait for him to wake up from his bad dream. You get closer to his bed, your legs pressing against his mattress.

“Miguel,” you keep murmuring, tapping his fist gently. You end up kneeling by his bed as you continue to slightly touch his hand, calling his name to wake him up, to pull him away from his dream so he’s not hurting. At least not in his nightmares as well.

Miguel mutters Gabriella’s name a few more times, and after a few seconds, Miguel’s eyes open. They search frantically around the bedroom before they find you, knelt before his bed, your face marked with concern, understanding, and tenderness.

“Y/N,” Miguel whispers, sleepily but somewhat alerted. Relieved.

“Hey, you’re awake now,” you whisper softly, retrieving your finger from his fist and placing your hand on his bed, next to him. “I’m - sorry. I heard you and …” you trail off, wishing you could tell him it was just a dream - just a nightmare - but you know that those words are not the truth for Miguel. His nightmares are not warnings nor simply bad dreams that leave a bad taste in his mouth upon wakening, but rather reminders that the events in his dreams have already happened. They are not nightmares that provoke fear in his life. It’s the reality of the turn of events **that incite his nightmares.

For Miguel, there’s no waking up and walking to the next bedroom to find his sweet child in bed, sleeping peacefully and unaware of his nightmares. There’s no relief and realization that it was just a really bad nightmare. No, for Miguel there is only one truth and it brings no comfort. There’s no child in the next bedroom. There never was. Not in this home, not in this universe. And her universe, much like her, is gone.

You watch Miguel with a heavy heart. There’s no comforting statement that you can offer him.

Miguel sits up slowly, his frame towering over you now. He sighs deeply as he comes to his senses, slowly realizing that you’ve witnessed one of his nightmares. He feels shame as he sits on his bed with you kneeling at his side. His cheeks are warm from the sleep but they suddenly feel hot as heavy, plunging waves of shame and discomfort crash on him. He dares take a glance at you again and when his crimson eyes find you, he detects no judgment nor pity. Instead, he finds genuine concern, understanding, love, and so much more, but not pity.

Never pity from you.

There’s a soft and tender look in your eyes that makes those waves of shame and discomfort ebb. And as those feelings fade, even in his state of mind, Miguel understands clearly why he felt like that just seconds ago. This is the first time anyone has ever seen him have a nightmare, making it easy for Miguel to feel all sorts of negative emotions. He quickly reminds himself that there’s no reason to feel like that with you. You would never look at him with pity or judgment, nor make him feel bad about having nightmares. He turns fully to face you now, more relaxed, or at least, as much as he can after a nightmare.

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” he says quietly in a deeper voice due to his slumber. “I didn’t mean to. I should’ve fully closed the door.”

You shake your head gently and offer a comforting smile, eyebrows knitted in understanding. “Don’t apologize. You can’t control them,” you whisper. “And - I have a feeling I would’ve known regardless of your door being fully closed or not.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow at this, wondering what you mean but you decide you’ll tell him later, when he’s more relaxed. You can tell he’s a little off from his nightmare, rightfully so, and the last thing you want to do is add on to the already vulnerable moment. You pat his mattress softly, giving him a warm and gentle smile to hopefully ease his emotions, even though internally, you’re aching to comfort Miguel physically. To embrace and hold him close to you when you know that no words can alleviate his pain and loss, nor the truth. You retrieve your hand from his mattress, for the first time feeling truly afraid that you might disrespect his boundary regarding physical touch because of your instincts.

“How about I make you a warm drink? Would you like that?” you ask quietly, still kneeling by his side.

Miguel shakes his head. “Thank you, but you don’t have to do that. It’s really late,” he says, turning to his nightstand to look at the clock, realizing what time it is. He instantly feels guilty for disrupting your sleep. He turns to face you before adding, “You should try and get some rest…”

You stand up, meeting his gaze. “Are you going back to sleep?” you ask him.

His gaze moves from you to his covers, which gives you a moment to glance around his bed. His covers have been kicked to the edge of the bed and then to his side, even in the darkness, you spot the sweatshirt that you gave him a few days ago on Sunday. Your eyes focus on it especially when you notice there’s a pillow stuffed in it, filling it up and leaving the sleeves laying flat on the bed. It’s so close to him that it makes you realize Miguel really does keep it nearby when he sleeps. The sight of the sweatshirt reminds you of something else.

Your eyes flicker to his nightstand where you find his gizmo. You were so concerned with Miguel and waking him up from his nightmare that you failed to hear your own breathing coming from it. You blink softly in surprise. You knew of it, of course. He has access to it because you allowed Lyla to record you. And of course, you know about the sweatshirt. You shouldn’t be surprised and yet, actually seeing Miguel use both things makes it so much more truer. Miguel truly does find your scent and the sound of your sleeping breathing comforting and necessary to sleep.

Your eyes flicker back to the sweatshirt and how it’s stuffed with a pillow. It makes you silently wonder if Miguel ever holds it, or rather embraces it, while he sleeps, as if he was hugging someone. As if he was hugging you.

You look away, heat rushing to your cheeks instantly at the mere thought of this possibility. The idea alone fills you with tenderness and hope, especially after his statement the day of the fire, when in your exhaustion, you revealed to Miguel for the first time that you wished to hug him. His words have been on your mind since then, how he said it was an honor that you wanted to embrace him, and that he was trying to work on physical touch. His words gave you hope that day and seeing the sweatshirt like this now, makes you even more hopeful that Miguel really is warming up to the idea of physical touch.

“I’m going to try,” Miguel answers at last, looking up at you again.

Relief washes over you as you realize that you did good in looking away from the sweatshirt when you did. You don’t want Miguel to realize that you’ve seen it and cause him to feel embarrassment about it.

“But he always stays up,” Lyla says, popping out of nowhere. You stare at her as she stares back at you. There’s a frown on her face, one of concern. “He’s never managed to go back to sleep after a nightmare.”

“Lyla,” Miguel says in a warning voice.

You nod towards Lyla, communicating a silent thank you for providing all the information you need. “I’m going to make you something warm to drink. I’ll bring it up to you, okay?” you say before starting to walk towards his bedroom door.

“Y/N,” Miguel says in a tone that tells you he’s about to argue that you don’t need to do anything, that you should head back to sleep and rest as if you could do such a thing when you know he’s somewhere in the penthouse, awake and alone after having a nightmare.

You could never just go back to sleep. You could never leave him alone, not when he has spent too many nights like that already. You refuse to let this night be the same when you’re here.

You turn to face him with an unwavering determination in your eyes. “I won’t… I can’t.” You pause, your face softening. “Please. Let me try, too.”

Miguel holds your gaze, still sitting 2on his bed. He stays quiet for a few seconds as your words sink in.

You give him a gentle smile and nod, taking his silence as understanding, as acceptance. “I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” Miguel replies quietly, softly, before you slip out of his bedroom and head downstairs.

Once in the kitchen, Lyla takes care of turning on the lights for you, keeping the lighting warm and gentle for your eyes to adjust. She silently follows you as you move around the kitchen, as if interested in what you’re doing, in how you’re going to sooth Miguel. You gather the few things you need before turning on the stove and setting the pot with water to boil. All the while, your heart stings for the man upstairs.

A floor above, Miguel sits on the bed. He sighs and rubs his forehead before he stands up and heads downstairs to meet you, to find you. He walks across the living room and towards the kitchen, finding you putting something in a medium-size pot. He takes a seat in his usual spot and leans on the counter, resting his elbows on it for support. He’s silently relieved the lighting is comfortable for the two of you considering you were both just sleeping and it’s the middle of the night.

He watches you gently, feeling both guilt and ternura. He silently wishes his nightmares could’ve ceased at least while you’re here to avoid disrupting your sleep, and more importantly, to avoid worrying you since he saw concern on your face when he woke up. And yet, he also found understanding, tenderness, affection, and love on your face - in your eyes. And now here you are, making a warm drink to comfort him, not realizing that your presence alone is soothing to him as always. **This fills him with ternura.

You turn around and face Miguel, finding him sitting in his usual seat. Your eyes meet his and you offer a smile, slowly realizing for the first time that he’s shirtless. You cannot help but wonder if he’s cold, causing you to worry.

“I’m making canelita,” you tell him softly.

He nods, offering you the tiniest smile before he looks down at the counter for a few seconds. The sight of that small, weak smile breaks you. He’s hurting.

Under the soft, warm light, Miguel looks… like he could use a hug right now. You look away, knowing you can’t but the urge, like always, is there. You tell yourself to stop thinking about it, and instead, focus on trying to support and comfort Miguel as best as you can. You silently wonder what he usually does after a nightmare. Lyla said he usually can’t sleep, so does he lay in bed for a while, or does he go to HQ?

You don’t know, and you don’t ask. A part of you doesn’t want to know because any scenario will hurt all the same with Miguel being on his own after a nightmare. You shake those thoughts away and think of something.

“Why don’t we go to the living room?” you suggest quietly as you approach the counter, standing in front of Miguel.

He nods silently, so you make the first move by walking around the counter and meeting him. You gesture to the living room before you begin walking there, his steps right behind you. Once again, Lyla takes care of the lights by turning on only two lamps. She even starts the fireplace, creating a soft and cozy environment. You silently thank Lyla. She’s helping as best as she can. You gesture to Miguel to take a seat, and he obeys, moving stiffly. He moves around like he’s in a haze, as if he’s still in his nightmare.

Once he sits, you retrieve the blanket from earlier. The one he told you to give it a home. You had no idea Miguel and you would be here only a few hours later under this circumstance, or that you’d be relieved that he told you to leave it if you wanted to because now, you’re going to use it to cover him.

Miguel blinks and looks up as you unfold it. You offer a small and warm smile to comfort him as he sits, watching you step closer to cover him like you did several months ago when you were looking after him in the spring after his injuries. The blanket instantly provides a layer of warmth but it also provides your scent, which surrounds him now. He inhales silently, feeling your scent lull his very soul after the nightmare.

“Thank you,” Miguel whispers, meeting your gaze, knowing that in a small way, this is you offering physical comfort. It’s your way of giving him a hug.

You nod, still smiling. “Always…” You gulp silently, feeling a tightness in your throat form. “Let me check on the canelita. I’ll be right back.”

You retreat to the kitchen, unaware of Miguel’s lingering eyes on you as your figure disappears. A few minutes later, you return to the living room, holding two mugs. He begins to pull the blanket down to stand up and help you, but you quickly tell him not to. Your words are laced with such a firmness, yet a gentleness that leaves no room to argue for Miguel, so he remains sitting. He watches you approach before you carefully hand him a mug.

“Careful,” you tell him softly as he receives it, welcoming the warmth of the mug and the brief brushing of your fingers with his.

You cup your mug in both your hands now that you’ve given Miguel his, and think for a moment as your eyes scan the other couch. You always sit there when you’re here at Miguel’s penthouse, and that hasn’t changed since you started living with him. The two of you always take a seat on opposite couches but right now, as you glance at Miguel, you can’t find it in yourself to sit that far from him.

You take in his appearance. He’s shirtless and in sweatpants. His hair is messy from his slumber, and the curls behind his ears look more curled than usual. You briefly find his bed hair endearing before your gaze takes in his face. There’s a thoughtful and far away expression on it, one that makes you feel like he’s still thinking about the nightmare. He also looks tired, something that tugs at your heartstrings. You silently decide you wish to be closer to him, so you opt to sit on the rug near him, leaving a few feet of space between the two of you so he doesn’t feel like you’re invading his personal space.

Miguel notices this, of course, and his eyebrows immediately knit in concern and confusion as you retrieve your mug from the coffee table after you placed it down to sit down. He’s about to open his mouth to tell you to get up, to not sit on the ground because it might be too cold and you might get sick, but when you look up at him and offer a warm and kind smile, Miguel forgets what he was going to say.

All he can think about is your smile and the tenderness on your face.

As you stare at Miguel, you know you can’t relate to having nightmares after losing one of your loved ones. You thankfully never had any even when Peter died in your arms but just the thought of them makes you feel sorrow, and you can imagine what Miguel feels. It makes you want to be here for Miguel even more, even if you know that you can’t take away his heartache and loss. There’s no way anyone can ever do that for someone fully, no matter how hard one tries but what you do know is that you can be here for Miguel. You can be his companion, so that Miguel isn’t alone for the first time after having a nightmare.

“Thank you,” Miguel whispers again after a moment of silence, meeting your gaze.

“Always,” you reply in a whisper, slowly twirling your spoon to cool off the hot drink. You silently hope that Miguel finds comfort and solace in your company.

Miguel watches you gently as you twirl your spoon silently. You’re so close to him. If you wanted to, you could easily place your hand on his knee, and if he wished to, he could lay his hand on your shoulder. You’re within distance but far enough that you’re respecting his personal space as always.

Miguel brings the mug to his lips and takes a small drink, the warmth and sweetness of the canelita spreads a comforting feeling through his chest on this cold winter night. Your blanket is still halfway covering him because he pulled it down earlier, but it’s keeping him warm regardless. There’s also the fireplace. He turns to look at it, taking notice of the dancing flames that cast shadows all around the room, something he also finds comforting for some reason.

In fact, everything about this moment is comforting to Miguel. From the low lit lamps to the fireplace, to the warmth and coziness that comes from your blanket, to the sweet canelita, but most of all - you.

You are here. This living room could be empty, dark, and cold but with you nearby, Miguel would feel the same amount of comfort nonetheless.

He sighs softly, feeling the heaviness that always weights down on him after a nightmare, almost like it drowns him, begin to fade. He can breath easier and his body is more relaxed, no longer as stiff as earlier. He subtly moves your blanket, lifting it higher so your scent reaches him again, so it helps him come back fully.

You notice his subtle gesture and after a few seconds of consideration, you slip off your sweatshirt. You fold it in half and place it on his lap, silently offering it to him because you know that your scent comforts him. Your eyes flicker to his, in which you find his internal debate to decline it, so you stare back with a firm gaze - wordlessly telling him to accept it.

Miguel looks down at the sweatshirt after a few seconds. You look at your mug to give him privacy, a moment Miguel takes. He lets his fingers graze your sweatshirt for several seconds. He feels the softness of it, but also the gratifying and comforting warmth that hangs to the fabric from you wearing it just now. It’s your warmth. So homey and inviting, so comforting. So you. He lifts it up to his chest, close enough that your scent surrounds him even more. He keeps his hand on it, letting your warmth sink into his palm and bare chest, into his own warmth.

Your warmth makes his mind whirl with thoughts of physical touch yet again, something Miguel finds himself doing more lately. Your revelation on wishing to hug him only fueled his thoughts on it as he’s been thinking about it for months, since the holidays. It sort of just click in his mind over Thanksgiving dinner that you’re so much more open to touch than he is. You’re open to both receiving and offering it, and you do so with such ease, like Miguel once did not too long ago.

The sudden light bulb that went on in his head has remained on throughout the months. He’s thought about it too many times, and with you currently living here, Miguel has only opened up more to the idea. He has a feeling that his thoughts on it have grown because the two of you spend so much time together now, more than you did before. The funny thing is that you already spent a lot of time together before but now, living together… It’s different.

The remaining walls around Miguel seem to have been made out of glass because you’ve gracefully broken them down throughout the short amount of time that you’ve been here. There’s so much more banter between the two of you now, and as a result, he’s discovered a more playful side to you, one he really likes and enjoys. And because of that playful side to you, Miguel has found himself being more playful, too, which catches him by surprise because he hasn’t seen that side of himself for a while. He likes it, just like he likes the fact that he smiles and chuckles more around you.

And so, because of all these little changes, Miguel has thought more and more about physical touch and opening more to it. With you, at least.

He turns to look at you again. You’re still staring at your mug, giving him a moment of privacy. Opening up about physical touch hasn’t been the only thing he’s been thinking about. He’s thought of sharing more things with you about his past. With one of his nightmares taking place tonight, Miguel wonders if it would be alright to talk about her. About the beginning and the end. It’s something he’s never talked about. Sure, he showed spider members in the past what happened to Gabriella’s universe - to her and everyone else - but he never talked about it. There’s a big difference between showing and telling.

Few people know of the beginning, and even those individuals, such as Jess and Peter B., don’t know what was running through his mind then because they don’t know about his past. They don’t know about his childhood or how he came to be Spider-Man, or about the other parts of his life.

They don’t know, but you do. You know more than anyone else, and you’re the only one in the entire multiverse.

Miguel sighs and breaks the silence after several minutes.

“Do you mind, if I share something with you?” he asks, quietly.

“I don’t mind,” you reply, looking up at him again.

Miguel nods and looks down at his mug.

“My mother died shortly after moving into the building, right when our mother and son relationship was just beginning to - heal, I guess. As I’ve told you in the past, I still held a lot of resentment towards her for my childhood, but I think if time had allowed, we would’ve been in a good place over the years.” Miguel sighs and shrugs his shoulders gently, an eyebrow rising and falling in seconds. “We will never know now, I suppose, but her death, despite everything, still hurt… Her death hurt both Gabriel and I, probably him more than me but it hurt both of us and made us realize, we were all we had. Each other.” Miguel looks up and stares at the fireplace. “Gabriel… Gabrielito… He passed away shortly after. A year later. My brother - My best friend was suddenly gone. You know what I always thought?” he asks quietly, a slight tremor in his voice.

“I always thought it would be me, the one that… The one that passed away first because I was the older one. And how wrong I was, like I was about so many things,” Miguel says, his red eyes filled with sadness.

“I had no one. I lost everyone. I had no friends, not meaningful ones, anyway. I hid myself behind work and eventually, hiding my grief and loneliness led me and Lyla to the multiverse. We worked very hard to figure out a way to travel it and shortly after, she was successful in creating a goober, one that worked. And, that started it all.”

Miguel’s eyes flicker to you. It started his expeditions into the multiverse, into finding other Spider people. It led to you.

“There were few members at the time when - when I came across the universe. I discovered a version of myself that was happy. He had a daughter. A family. He was a single father,” Miguel shares. “I learned that his partner had died in childbirth, so it was just him and… Gabriella. Sometimes, I looked into their universe. It was so strange. To see a version of myself with a daughter, who was happy despite his own losses, despite the ups and downs of his life. I won’t lie, a part of me envied him. He was a normal individual with a normal job, and went home with his daughter. He wasn’t Spider-Man.

For the longest time, I hated what I had become. I blamed it on being Spider-Man, and then blamed myself because I used to think that I had made the choice to be Spider-Man.”

You nod slowly, his words sinking in. You understand the implication of his words.

“I regret this so much now but, back when I met Miles, I told him something. Something that I’ve come to realize, only showed how I viewed myself. All of us,” Miguel admits. “I thought being Spider-Man was a sacrifice. A job that we had signed up for, which obviously is not true, but I thought at the time because of how I had become Spider-Man, that I had made that decision willingly. And so, I felt that we had all made that decision, that sacrifice.”

“You didn’t…” you whisper, and Miguel nods, his face softening at your voice.

“I realized that after everything that happened with Miles. I just felt like - I had made that choice willingly, even though my intention was just to spare myself from becoming an addict,” he says softly. “I never intended to do anything else. It was… Luck. It was out of my hands, the same way it has been for so many spider members. But at the time, when I discovered Gabriella’s universe, I wholeheartedly believed it had been my choice. My sacrifice. A happy and simple life exchanged for the responsibilities and duties of Spider-Man and the fate of the multiverse. So, I only kept watching and I was glad, that at least one Miguel O’Hara was happy. It all changed one day though. Lyla suddenly informed me that - that the Miguel from that universe was dead, had been murdered. In an attempt to be a good man, he was shot and he didn’t make it… I saw how it went down, a recording of it because of Lyla,” Miguel says quietly. “And I was just - I just couldn’t believe that he was gone. I couldn’t believe that the misfortune was shared, no matter the universe.”

Miguel pauses, knowing he’s reached Gabriella’s part, and the part in which he buried a version of himself.

“After what felt like a minute or two of pure disbelief and shock, I remembered Gabriella. She had no one. There was no Gabriel, no Conchata, not even a George O’Hara in her life. They had all passed away when she was younger, so all she had was her father, and suddenly he was gone, too. I realized what that meant, and I didn’t want that for her,” Miguel says softly with a pained expression. “I didn’t want her to end up in an… orphanage, where God knows what she would’ve lived through. I couldn’t help but think about that and how she had such a beautiful life. She had a loving father. She had support. She didn’t know of pain, suffering, or loss. She was surrounded by love and tenderness, and I thought, she deserved to continue to have that. I thought, I could provide that for her. I could look after her, make sure she had a good childhood. That she could continued to know love the way she knew it so far thanks to her father. It all happened so fast. Those minutes felt like seconds and in that short time, I questioned, what was the harm? What was the harm in me replacing the Miguel in that universe?

I could spare Gabriella from knowing grief and loss at such a young age, from her life changing and losing everything she knew. And I also thought about my own life. Gabriel had been dead for three years already at that point. The only person I talked to on a daily basis was Lyla before the Spider Society, and even when it was all started, I still felt lonely. Empty.” Miguel confesses. “People tried to get close to me but I had given up. I was closed off. I pushed everyone away and succeeded time and time again. I felt it was better to just be alone. I felt that I was meant for that. That I wasn’t meant for anything else. That my whole life was to be dedicated to protecting the multiverse, but then this happened and I asked myself again, what was the harm? And before I knew it, I was there. I don’t… I will spare you most of the details of everything that happened from that point to meeting Gabriella.” Miguel looks at you, a deep frown on his face.

“But I do want you to know that I… I treated him with respect. I gave him a proper burial.” Miguel whispers. “Where he wouldn’t be disturbed and where I hoped he would find peace. It was a beautiful place, surrounded by nature. I had learned a few things about him and Gabriella, and this Miguel loved nature, so I thought it was only appropriate. I said a few words for him as he was religious, and I swore to him that I would love and look after Gabriella as if she was mine.”

Miguel looks down at the mug. His other hand is still clutching your sweatshirt.

“After that… I headed to their home and that was the beginning of one of the best times in my life, not knowing it would lead to one of the worst, too,” Miguel whispers, closing his eyes as he feels all his emotions all at once. He takes a minute to recover, to placate the knot in his throat. “It was wonderful, beautiful, and scary sometimes because I didn’t know everything about being a parent and I didn’t have the best examples growing up, and yet, I couldn’t help but feel like I had always been meant to be that… A father. And sometimes I wondered how because I had grown up with such horrible parental figures… Horrible father figures,” Miguel says opening his eyes again.

“But there, with Gabriella, it was like I was meant to be a dad all along. It was like a dream… A dream that I hadn’t even realized I had all along. And suddenly, I was there. I was with her, and she called me daddy and held my hand, and told me about school and soccer. I was suddenly learning how to do her hair and instead of being at HQ, I was on her bedroom floor play pretending I was some knight saving her favorite doll from dragons.” Miguel’s eyes are teary as he shares this. A soft smile tugs at his mouth.

“My biggest worry went from the gizmos acting up to a scraped knee during a soccer match. I woke up early not to work but to make breakfast and prepare her school lunch. My weekends were occupied with soccer matches and taking her on little adventures to book shops and museums, to the park where she ran on soft and green grass, and yelled at me to watch how fast she ran. My evenings were no longer spent in the lab but rather cooking for the two of us, while she did her homework on the dining table, like Gabriel and I once did as children. We’d eat dinner and she’d tell me more about her day, about the things she learned in school. And so much more… So much more, Y/N…. She changed my life.”

Miguel pauses and swallows deeply. “She changed me. She made me a better person.” He sighs and finally takes a sip of canelita, already lukewarm. “Everything was great. It was the best my life had been in years since Gabriel passed away. And I thought, this is perfect. The perfect life. Just my little Gabriella and I, but soon, I met my wife, Adriana, and that changed things.” Miguel looks up at you. “I fell for her fast. Too fast. I have regrets about the way I handle the relationship. I wish I had been better because she deserved better than me,” Miguel says, looking away.

You can sense Miguel doesn’t really want to talk about this specifically, about his wife.

“You don’t have to… talk about her,” you tell him gently.

Miguel shakes his head gently. “I ought to… I want to. And, she deserves to be talked about as well. She was part of my life for that short period of time. It’s just hard because over time, since everything happened, I’ve slowly come to the realization that I regret how fast everything went.” Miguel pauses again. He can’t help but wonder what you will think of him. You’ve always been so kind and understanding with him but this might change your perspective of him. Maybe you’ll think he was selfish, greedy even, to want to have it all. “We met and only two months later, we were married. It all happened so fast and suddenly, we became a family. We were happy for as long as it lasted. A month and a half. That was how long I was married for before… everything happened. I regret it only because I believe she deserved better. I felt that we rushed into things so fast. She had no family, so sometimes I think we just wanted a family, so much that we rushed into marriage. Even though she didn’t know the real me. All of me, at least.”

You nod again, thinking about his wife and the fact that she had no family either.

“She didn’t know that I was from another universe, or that I was Spider-Man. I wanted to tell her but I never had the courage nor the time since everything just happened in the blink of an eye. When Gabriella was in school, we were both at work. She went to her job, while I came back here to Nueva York. She never knew, of course. Then, in the evenings when the three of us were at home, our time was dedicated to Gabriella entirely. She was the center of our worlds. I think, Gabriella was what brought us together the most. Without Gabriella, I think, we would’ve never been together, even if I had been from that universe,” Miguel admits.

“We spent all our time with Gabriella, and we were happy about it. It was as if… That was the only reason we were together, to be parents. Since we spent all our time with Gabriella, that hardly left any time for us as a marriage. By the time we had some moments for ourselves at night, when Gabriella was tucked in for bedtime, we’d be tired from the day’s activities. So, it was never a good time to talk to her about being Spider-Man, or that I was from another universe. We didn’t even make time for ourselves. We never…” Miguel looks down at his mug, embarrassed. “We were never intimate. Just a peck here and there. And I’ve come to realized, we loved the idea of a marriage because of the companionship and Gabriella, because of being a family. I had feelings for her, and I know she did, too. We loved each other but not in a romantic sense. She told me...” Miguel trails off, remembering that dream, or experience, he still doesn’t know what to call it, from when he died for a few minutes almost a year ago.

Miguel sighs, and maybe it’s due to exhaustion, or maybe he just wants everything to be out of his chest once and for all because he tells you all about it. He tells you how he saw Gabriella, Gabriel, his wife, and the other Miguel. He tells you how he apologized to everyone and what they said to him. His eyes flicker to you as he tells you that his family kept telling him to come back because you were calling him.

You gulp softly and nod at this, your eyes growing teary as you remember that early morning when you thought Miguel was really gone.

“Gabriella and Gabriel kept telling me to come back. That you were calling me,” Miguel says quietly.

“I was…” you whisper. “I kept calling your name and I… prayed to your loved ones that they’d send you back.”

Miguel smiles weakly at you. “Seems like they heard your prayers.”

You chuckle softly and wipe at your eyes, before inhaling sharply. “So, you saw them.”

“Yes, including my wife, and she said… we both made the decision, that I hadn’t rushed her into anything she didn’t want to. That perhaps, we had both sensed it would come to an end all too quickly, and that’s why we rushed into it. Yet… I still feel guilty. I feel like I was selfish, that I wanted more, and in wanting more, I dragged her along with me.”

You shake your head softly. “I wasn’t there but… I have no doubt that she was a great woman and very smart. You believing that you ‘dragged’ her into marriage takes away from her character, Miguel. She married you because she wanted to. Even if the two of you didn’t have the opportunity to have your feelings grow deeper, that doesn’t mean there wasn’t love and respect. And you know,” you pause and look at your mug for a few seconds before meeting his gaze again. “I don’t know what you think about your dream - about your experience. Maybe you don’t believe that you actually saw them, but… I think it was real, and it was an opportunity for all of you to say what you wanted, needed, to say. And to me, it sounds like your wife didn’t regret it, nor did she blame you for anything. She was happy, as was Gabriella,” you say softly.

Miguel nods slightly. “They were happy but look where that ended.”

You frown and move slightly closer to him. “We don’t know the real cause,” you remind him gently, as it’s the truth. It has been two years since Miles “threatened” the fate of the multiverse by trying to save Mr. Morales, and the entire situation thankfully ended with him safe and sound. Miles’s universe didn’t collapsed and the fate of the multiverse wasn’t truly jeopardized. It weakened Miguel’s canon theory, but it’s something the society still keeps in mind as neither Miguel nor Lyla have figured out what exactly is the cause for some universes collapsing and others not.

“Right,” Miguel says and sighs, rubbing his forehead. “We don’t know for sure but there’s still a chance that it was my fault, me being there when I wasn’t supposed to.”

You tilt your head to the side slightly. “That would mean your universe would be threatened, too.”

Miguel looks at you, with a frown.

“All of us, spider people, you could say, shouldn’t be here, and yet, it’s been years since you founded the Spider Society and your universe is still standing,” you remind him. “Then, there’s me. I’m staying here in your universe more than I usually am, probably spending as much time as you did in Gabriella’s universe, and your universe is fine. Your presence didn’t lead to what happened, Miguel.”

“Maybe… or maybe it only applies to certain universes. Or maybe, Gabriella was supposed to be Spider-Woman and me being there disrupted something. I don’t know anymore,” he says, looking at the fireplace, sounding tired.

You look up at him, noticing how his beautiful red eyes almost seem to glow thanks to the flames.

“We will figure it out one day,” you reply softly, trying to reassure Miguel. You inch closer to him, knowing that tonight has been emotionally exhausting for him. He’s kept so much tucked away, but at last, he’s unlocked it. “I don’t think it was a disruption, a canon event. It’s something else that we’ve overseen. I refuse to believe that she was meant to be on her own. No child deserves that and what you did… I would’ve done the same,” you whisper to him. “It wasn’t you, Miguel. I wholeheartedly believe that it wasn’t you.”

Miguel’s gaze turns to you, his crimson eyes meeting yours. He sees that you truly believe what you just said. You’re not just saying it to sooth his guilt. You believe it. And the fact that you’ve said that you would’ve done the same, that means so much to him, more than you’ll ever realized.

“Thank you for saying that because for some time… I’ve been wondering if I should’ve left Gabriella alone, even if a different kind of guilt ate at me. I just… I really didn’t want her to suffer. To go from having everything, to nothing.”

“I understand,” you start. “It would’ve eaten me alive to know that I could be doing something for her, so I understand completely. You’re a good person, Miguel,” you say and he looks at you, with doubt in his eyes. “You’re a kind and loving man, and that’s why you did it. Not because you were selfish. You stepped up when Gabriella lost the one person she had in her universe, when she needed someone. Otherwise, her life would’ve been very different. Maybe, it wasn’t going to be horrible, but even then, she deserved more than an okay childhood on her own. Gabriella deserved to continue to have the same things she had before someone took them away from her. And you gave her that. You made her happy and made her feel loved. She didn’t know suffering, pain, or loss. You did what you swore to her biological father. You loved and looked after her because she was yours,” you say softly. “She was your daughter and you were her father. Always will be, no matter what. You were a great father, Miguel,” you whisper. “Still are because you honor her. You still care about her, and you’ve allowed her to be one of your reasons for moving forward.”

Miguel’s eyes close for a few seconds after you finish, a tear escapes from his eyes. Your words bring a certain warmth to his heart. He opens his eyes again, meeting yours before he gives you a small smile. “Thank you, you don’t know… how much that means to me,” he whispers.

You return the small smile and nod, your heart aching for Miguel. “And I believe that wholeheartedly, too,” you whisper. “Thank you for sharing this with me, too. I know it isn’t easy.”

He nods. “It isn’t but talking about it helps. I learned that from someone,” he says quietly, fondly looking at you. He swallows softly. “After everything happened, I was certain I’d never talk about it. It was too painful but… look at me now.”

You smile warmly and nod. Yes, look at him now. You briefly remember the man you met that first day at HQ when you were brought here to Nueva York by Jess. The man you met that day is not the same man in front of you now. “I… I’m really…” you start. Should you?

“What is it?” Miguel asks. “You can tell me.”

“I’m really - really proud of you, Miguel,” you whisper. “I know it’s not easy to, even when you know it’s good to talk about it because it helps. It’s not easy and yet, you’ve done it. I’m really proud of you, and just know, I’m touched that you trust me enough to share this with me.”

Miguel nods slowly, your words sinking in. You’re proud of him.

“And you should be proud of yourself, too,” you continue with a little smile. “You’ve kept your promise to your family and I have no doubt that they’re happy to see you go through with it. For them.”

“I hope so,” he replies. “I really hope so, even though sometimes I think I don’t deserve to move forward and live life, because they didn’t get the chance to.”

Your lips purse in disappointment and yet, a part of you understands why Miguel thinks this way.

“I used to think that way, too. About Peter’s death,” you say softly, earning yourself a frown from him.

“That wasn’t your fault,” he says gently.

“I know that now but I used to tell myself I could’ve saved him if only I had been quicker, smarter, better… That I could’ve given him some minutes - minutes that could’ve saved his life. You know… I cut ties with my previous friends with the exception of one. They cut contact with me after Peter’s death but,” you pause, looking at your mug for a second. “The reason why I did it was because of that guilt,” you confess for the first time. Miguel’s brows furrow. “I believed that if I couldn’t save my partner, then, I probably couldn’t save my friends. I believed they were better off without me, so I cut ties with them little by little until they stopped calling and showing up… Until I became someone they used to know.”

“Y/N…” Miguel whispers, his heart aching for you because how could you ever believe that? Anyone that has you in their life is lucky. He is lucky.

“Peter made me promise to try to move forward. And I’ve tried, but there were so many days, especially in the beginning, when I wondered why should I when he didn’t get to? I believed it was my fault, my failure. I thought I failed him… so why should I try to move forward and have a life when I failed to give him the same chance?” you ask with a sigh. “But Peter asked me to… For him,” you continue, eyes softening. “And even though it didn’t make losing him easier, I realized I could live and love for the two of us… And maybe, Peter believed that in the end, too, and it was part of the reason why he asked that of me, on top of the fact that he was an unselfish man and he probably didn’t want me to shut down completely the way I did anyway,” you say sadly yet feeling fondly of Peter.

“It doesn’t make it easier but, you trying to move forward will be for you and for them, too. You can love the world like little Gabriella did. Smile and laugh like Gabriel did, with his cheeky smile and everything,” you say, which causes Miguel to breath out a short chuckle, his eyes filling up with tears. “You can honor your loved ones by the way you live your life. As they would live it, if they had a chance.” You nod at him, tears swelling in your eyes as well. “They don’t want you to think that way, Miguel. And if you needed a sign, your dream, or this experience you had, is exactly that confirmation. They don’t want you to think or live that way. And… neither do I. Nor everyone else in the Spider Society who cares about you, Miguel, because believe it or not, there’s a lot of people that care about you.”

Miguel nods gently. He feels tears threatening to spill over your kind and warm words.

“Thank you,” he says, still holding on to his mug. Your words really do mean so much to him. “Thank you for sharing that with me, about Peter. And thank you for the words, they… Make me see things differently,” Miguel admits. “I also want to tell you, that I’m relieved you no longer think like that because it wasn’t your fault,” Miguel continues, feeling heartache about this. It kills him to find out that you felt like that when you were all alone and you had no one to tell you that it wasn’t true. He wishes he could’ve been there to assure you that you had done everything you could’ve. “And, also, I want you to know that everyone who has or ever had you in their life, is lucky.” Miguel looks at you, a soft expression on his face. “I know I’m lucky to have you in my life. It’s a privilege, Y/N. Never forget that,” he says gently.

You smile warmly at him as you wipe some tears away. “Likewise, Miguel,” you whisper.

After such a conversation, Miguel and you sit close to each other in silence. You give each other time to collect yourselves, together. About ten minutes later, you notice Miguel drinking from his mug. It’s been a while since you served the canelita, so you’re certain his drink must be cold by now.

You nod towards Miguel’s mug. “I can get you some more. Whatever you have left is probably really cold, here,” you say standing up, offering your hand to take it.

Miguel reluctantly gives you the mug, feeling like you’re doing too much for him but before he can say anything, you take the mug from him and walk to the kitchen to get him more. You come back quickly, holding his mug with warm canelita and a small plate with pan dulce. You take a seat on the floor again after handing him his mug and placing the plate on the coffee table.

“I brought some pan dulce. I don’t know if you want some,” you offer.

Miguel nods before he places his mug on the coffee table, and before you know it, he’s sitting on the floor, too. He leans his back on the couch for support, sitting about three feet away from you. You notice the blanket and your sweatshirt came along with him, and both things now rest on his lap. You weren’t expecting for him sit down on the ground with you but you say nothing about it, and instead, you offer him a napkin for the bread.

The two of you eat small pieces of Mexican bread called garibaldis, a kind of pan dulce that you’ve noticed Miguel really enjoys. Typically, the two of you would eat it with coffee but due to the time and moment, you eat with canelita instead.

Once Miguel finishes his, he drinks from his mug. It’s so warm and sweet, so comforting. He turns to look at you just as you finish yours. He suddenly remembers how you told him earlier that you would’ve known about him having a nightmare anyway, even if he had closed the bedroom door.

“Earlier, you said that you would’ve known I was having a nightmare regardless of my bedroom door being closed or not. How come?”

You place your napkin on the coffee table. “It was my spidey senses,” you say simply because at this point, you believe the two of you need no further explanation. There’s a connection that allows you, and Miguel it seems, to sense things about each other, like how he sensed something was happening a few weeks ago when your building caught on fire. Neither of you know how it works though the two of you have silently wondered about it. You’ve specifically wondered if it will develop more, whether you’ll be able to sense more deeply as time goes on, and whether that will apply to Miguel as well.

Miguel hums in response. He had a feeling that was going to be your answer. The connection. The bond. It’s so comforting to him, no longer scary like it once used to.

You nod, wondering now. It’s the first time your spidey senses have warned you about one of his nightmares. Otherwise, this wouldn’t be the first night like this. You would’ve tried to be here for Miguel so much sooner if you had been warned other times. You wonder if you were only able to sense it tonight because you’re in the same universe as him. Maybe the first time this connection presented itself across the multiverse was because he was in legit danger and that’s why you sensed it. It would make sense why you’ve failed to sense his nightmares, as he’s not in real danger.

You take a drink from your mug. If that’s the case and you can’t sense his nightmares unless you’re here in Nueva York… You turn to look at Miguel as you place your mug back on the table. You don’t want Miguel to spend another night like this alone. Ever. You consider asking him something right now but decide against. You can ask him in a few hours, or maybe at a better time.

“How… how often do you have them?” you ask Miguel softly.

He stays silent for a few seconds. “This is the first one since the beginning of the year. They’ve decreased over the last few months. Sometimes it’s just two or three times a month but I used to have them daily those first weeks when - I came back and was still making an effort to sleep.”

You nod but don’t ask anything else. You don’t want to ask more just in case Miguel isn’t ready. You’re relieved that his nightmares have lessened at least but you wish he didn’t have them at all anymore.

Miguel contemplates telling you more. He’s already shared a fair amount and maybe it’s too much for one night alone.

“You know I’m here, right?” you ask softly. “I’m here for you. If you want to talk, we can talk. Or if you want silence, then we can sit here in silence. If you want music, I can put some for us. You just - tell me and I’ll do it,” you tell him, as if sensing that he wants to share more.

Miguel nods and leans further back into the couch. You do the same. Maybe he does want silence after all, and you’re more than fine with that. You’ll offer him whatever he needs, no questions asked.

“May I tell you about the nightmares and about that last day?” he asks quietly as if there’s any chance that you’d tell him no.

“If you want to, I’ll listen,” you respond gently, facing him.

Miguel nods, preparing himself mentally and emotionally, though a large part of him feels like he can do this. He can talk about it with you.

“They started the first night I was back. After losing them and watching an entire universe cease to exist before my eyes… I was exhausted in every way possible. I tried to sleep but it only lasted for about an hour before I woke up,” Miguel starts, his voice low. “The first nightmare was when she… When she was just gone from my arms, like she never existed. Like, she was all part of my imagination. As if I hadn’t brushed her hair that morning and made sure she had everything in her backpack after packing her lunch. She was so excited.”

Miguel brushes his fingers over your sweatshirt’s sleeves.

“We started the day like any other. There was no sign of danger. Nothing that could’ve warned me.” Miguel looks away, a look of disbelief in his face. “She was going to have soccer practice after school. She was so excited,” Miguel whispers. “It was a normal day - a perfect day - and then it all changed. I was suddenly running, carrying her in my arms and I had no idea what was happening. I was trying to figure it out in my head, while simultaneously telling myself that I would do anything **to keep her safe. To keep her alive. I was more than ready to give my life if it meant that she lived.”

Miguel sighs heavily, holding tight to your sweatshirt. “She called for me. I held her in my arms and she kept calling up to me. Her sweet voice was filled with fear and all I could do was run and run through the city hoping, praying to something, anything, to protect her. To keep her alive. To let her live and experience life. To grow up and make memories, have experiences. And then… she was gone. My hands were empty. The only sign that there had been someone in them to begin with was her warmth,” Miguel whispers. “Until that warmth faded, and there was truly nothing. Nothing but memories and her cries of fear in those last seconds before she - before she was gone.”

A heaviness settles in your chest as you listen to Miguel. His tone and face expression - it breaks your heart. You stare at him, a genuine look of empathy etched on your face, the kind that makes Miguel feel like you can understand him and his emotions.

“That’s usually my nightmare. That moment. Over and over again. Sometimes, it’s both my wife and Gabriella disappearing and I’m unable to move or do anything. All I can do is watch as they both yell for my help.” Miguel takes a moment to collect himself. “Tonight’s… Gabriella was upset with me. She was angry that I lied. That I didn’t tell her what happened to her biological father. That I pretended to be her father. And I just kept begging her to forgive me,” Miguel says as he recalls his nightmare. “And then, she left. She didn’t want to see me anymore.”

You nod slowly, heart aching. You can see the pain and heartache on his face. Hear it in his voice.

“I’m sorry, Miguel,” you whisper gently, meaning it.

“I was going to tell her when she was older but it was a fear I had. That she would hate me for it and want nothing to do with me,” he admits.

“I don’t think she would’ve hated you,” you tell him. “It would’ve been a shock of course but you are her father. Took care of her, loved her. She would’ve never walked away from her second father.”

“I don’t know,” Miguel says. “Maybe she would’ve.”

“I know we can’t be certain but you always tell me how sweet she was. How smart and caring she was. How much she loved you. She would’ve grieved her biological father but I think she would’ve also understood your decision and realized, you meant to do well.”

With a little smile, Miguel nods. “She was sweet, so sweet and caring. And so smart… Maybe you’re right. She would’ve been upset about Miguel, her biological father, rightfully so. Maybe after some time, she would’ve forgiven me. At least I hope so…” Miguel says holding his mug, pondering this. It was something that kept him up sometimes while he was in Gabriella’s universe.

“Do you mind, telling me more about her?” you ask gently, hoping that maybe by talking about Gabriella, about the beautiful moments he shared with her, you might be able to sooth Miguel.

“Yes,” he replies, grateful to talk about Gabriella. After a few seconds, he decides to show you what little pictures he has. “Lyla, can you please show pictures of Gabi?”

Three seconds later, a hologram screen appears between Miguel and you, displaying a photo of Gabriella alone. She’s holding up a soccer ball, smiling at the camera with the sweetest smile. The sight makes you smile immediately, something that Miguel notices.

He stares at you, watching your smile. He can’t help but smile softly before he returns his eyes to Gabriella, though the mere sight of you smiling at a photo of his daughter creates a different kind of warmth to spread across his chest.

“She loved soccer. I’ve mentioned it already but she - she was an amazing player. So passionate. So dedicated. Not just for soccer either. She loved school and always had good grades. I thought she’d have her moments, you know,” Miguel says quietly, staring at the photo. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he feels tears roll down his face. He hastily wipes them away. “But she surprised me. She was so eager to complete her homework. She was so smart and I - I have no doubt that she would’ve accomplished amazing things,” Miguel adds, eyes glistening. Miguel sighs quietly, wiping his eyes with his free hand.

“She loved bees,” Miguel continues, which reminds him of one particular moment. “One time she saved one. You should’ve seen her. She was so worried about it dying that she took care of the bee until it was able to fly again. It was all she could talk about during soccer practice,” Miguel says smiling fondly. “She loved the color lilac. It was one of her favorite colors. She loved the guitar… The one I always offer for Dia de los Muertos. She could play it,” Miguel tells you. “She used to sing this song… ‘Luna de Xelajú” it was called. She loved it but she loved so many other songs. She liked to sing in the car,” Miguel goes on as he remembers more and more things about Gabriella that he’s kept tucked away in his memories.

As Miguel talks, the photos have been changing. As he comes to a pause, the last photo changes to a short video of Gabriella running on a field. She runs to the camera, smiling.

“I did it, daddy!” she says happily and a knot instantly forms in your throat. You clear your throat softly, feeling the loss for someone you never met but yet, know so much about. The video ends and switches to another photo. It’s a much closer photo of Gabriella, her face is relaxed as she smiles. You stare at her eyes, at the beautiful deep shade of brown you’re sure Miguel once had. The sight of sweet and innocent Gabriella stirs something in you, and before you know it, you lift a hand, as if to caress Gabriella’s face. It’s too late by the time you notice, and you instantly regret it, fearing that this might upset Miguel - that this gesture might trigger memories that are still painful for him.

However, Miguel’s eyes soften at the gesture. That warmth in his chest grows. “She likes you,” he says before he realizes.

You turn to look at Miguel as you put your arm down, wondering if you’ve heard him correctly.

Miguel stares at the photo, avoiding your eyes as he realizes what he’s said but it’s too late now to take it back. After a few seconds of silence, Miguel speaks.

“My nightmares have decreased over the months. I think it’s because…” he trails off as his fingers find your sweatshirt again and you understand. “Thanks to you. So on some nights, I have normal dreams. I dream of them. Of my family. I dream of Gabriel and Gabriella very often. My mom and my wife appear sometimes but it’s mostly Gabriel and Gabi. Sometimes,” Miguel says pausing as he continues to stare at the photo. “I dream about you as well. With them.” Miguel stops and glances at you, trying to gauge your reaction, wondering if you’ll be weirded out by that. Yet, when he turns to look at you, he finds a warm smile on your face and he realizes, you’re not upset about it. If anything, your smile would suggest you find it endearing.

“Really?” you ask softly. “I wish I could’ve met them in real life.”

“I do, too,” Miguel says, leaning slightly closer as if he’s about to share a secret. And in a way, he guesses it is a secret because just like his nightmares, Miguel has kept the good dreams to himself, too. Until now, of course, because as photos and videos of Gabriella and him play between you, Miguel tells you about his dreams.

He shares that you’ve played dolls with Gabriella and that in one dream, she asked him if you could do her hair because only you could achieve a specific hairstyle she wanted for one of her soccer matches. He doesn’t tell you how he woke up smiling about that particular dream because the sight of you doing Gabriella’s hair was too sweet, too endearing for him even in just a dream.

He tells you how the two of you and Gabriel have talked over café de olla, though he cannot remember the conversations themselves. Miguel even tells you about one dream in which his younger brother was teasing him but you backed up Miguel, which makes you chuckle softly. He almost tells you that Gabriel seems to treat you like a sister but that would probably be too much, so he doesn’t share that.

“They both really like you. I would say… they love you,” Miguel says once he’s done sharing some of his dreams. “I truly have no doubt they would’ve if they were alive.”

That makes you smile warmly at him before you look at the photos again. “I hope you don’t mind me telling you this, and maybe it’s strange, but despite not having the opportunity to meet them… I care about them, and I mean it when I say I wish I could’ve met them.” You decide to leave it only at “caring” and avoid telling Miguel that you actually love his family because it might be too much.

At your words, your honesty, Miguel smiles softly. He’s touched that you care about two of the most important people in his life. He’s also almost sure that you’re holding something back, just from looking at your face.

“You wanted to say something else,” he says.

You turn to look at him again and smile sheepishly. “Sometimes I’m still amazed at how well you can read me. Peter used to do that, too, and it never ceased to amaze me,” you reply as you glance down at your nearly empty mug of canelita. “You are right… I was going to say that I love your family, Gabriel and Gabriella, but that probably sounds weird since I never met them.”

“They’d love you, too.” That makes you look up and Miguel continues. “They probably do from wherever they are, based on that dream from almost a year ago,” Miguel says gently, meaning it. He believes it. They already love you in his dreams, so he has no doubt they probably do from wherever they are.

Miguel’s words not only warm your heart, but also your cheeks. You smile warmly at him. “That… that’s really sweet of you, thank you.”

“I mean it,” Miguel says, his head tilting to the side as he looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time since he woke up. You’re in your pajamas, looking so comfortable and cozy. You were probably sleeping so peacefully, with your arms wrapped around a pillow like you always do before you woke up due to him. “It’s really late,” Miguel says. “You must be tired. Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“Are you sleepy?” you ask, a part of you hoping he is, so that he can get some rest after how much he has shared tonight. You watch Miguel carefully, trying to figure out how he’s feeling.

“Even if I’m not, you should get some sleep yourself. You don’t have to stay up,” Miguel says, meaning it because your presence alone in the penthouse is calming to him.

“I don’t want to - leave you alone,” you confess quietly.

Miguel’s face softens at your words. He gives you a small smile. “The fact that you’re here in the penthouse alone makes me feel better. You can go to sleep if you want, really,” he says softly but you shake your head.

“If you stay up, I stay up with you. You don’t have to talk to me, or even acknowledge me but just… let me stay with you. I can’t stand the mere thought of you alone, Miguel… I don’t want you to ever be alone on nights like these again, so I dare ask you something that might be too much but, just consider it, please,” you say, gently. You’ve hardly ever asked anything of Miguel and tonight, you dare to. “Whenever you have nightmares, I ask that you get me. I don’t care where I am. Here in Nueva York or in my universe, but please reach out to me. I’ll come to you if you’d prefer. Or you can go to my apartment, just… You don’t have to be alone, Miguel,” you say, looking at him and hoping that he’ll consider it.

Miguel gulps softly at your words, at the way you’re staring at him so fondly, so tenderly. It’s a look that makes it impossible for him to reject you and your request. You could ask anything of him with that look on your face and he’d do it. So he nods his head at you and you smile warmly at him, happy that Miguel’s letting you stay with him and that he’s agreeing to what you’ve asked.

“Okay…” he says. “I will but I really don’t want to wake you up.”

You shake your head. “I don’t care. Please don’t hesitate. Please… promise me you will?” you ask so softly your voice is barely audible.

Miguel nods, looking at you with the same tenderness you have on your face. “Alright… I promise.”

After Miguel’s promise, the two of you spend another hour in his living room, just sitting next to each other within short distance. At some point, you stand up to get more canelita for the two of you to drink. There’s moments of silence, but they’re comfortable ones. Then, there’s moments when you talk. Eventually, you happily notice that Miguel begins to look sleepy, giving you hope that he can get a little sleep before sunrise.

“Do you want to head upstairs?”

Miguel shakes his head. He doesn’t want to go upstairs right now.

“You’re growing sleepy.” You say this as a matter of fact and Miguel knows it. He’s getting sleepy, which is a first for him on a night like this. He has no doubt it’s because you’re here with him. “Do you want to… lie here?” you ask looking at the ground.

That makes Miguel raise an eyebrow slightly. Are you suggesting that he sleeps on the ground with you nearby?

“I’ll stay here with you,” you continue. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Miguel declines but twenty minutes later, you can tell he’s growing more sleepy so you try again. You grab a pillow from the couch and offer it to him. “Lie down at least.”

Miguel takes the pillow with a sigh and then to encourage him, you grab one for yourself. You gently push the coffee table away from the two of you until it reaches the other couch, the one where you always sit at, so that there’s enough space for the two of you to stretch out. You place your pillow on the floor and then lay down.

Miguel peers down at you as he remains sitting, holding the pillow. You’re really trying to get him to sleep, even taking initiative. So, Miguel places his pillow down and lays down slowly. He lays on his back and stares at the ceiling for a few seconds. He’s never done this before. He’s never laid on his living room floor like this. He turns his head to look at you. You’re on your back, too, staring at the ceiling.

With a soft sigh, Miguel rolls on his side, facing you. He feels your blanket shift over him, reminding him that he still has it. He grabs it and extends it, letting it fall over your body to keep both of you warm.

Your lips threaten to curl upwards at the gesture, but you successfully refrain from doing so. “Thank you.”

“Always,” Miguel whispers as the two of you now lay on the same floor, under the same blanket with about two feet of distance.

As you lay there, you place your hand in the space between the two of you. Your pinky is pointed at him. A silent offering.

You both remain quiet for several minutes and just when you start to think that Miguel fell asleep, you feel it. His pinky wraps around yours gently without warning. You stay still, looking at the ceiling without saying anything. You simply enjoy the way his pinky feels wrapped around yours. After about two minutes or so, you roll on your side, facing him, too.

Miguel blinks slowly at you. He’s quickly giving in to his sleep but despite that, he’s reminded of a realization he had not too long ago. On Valentine’s Day.

You’re not only his friend, or close friend.

You’re his best friend.

As he thinks about it again while staring at you, Miguel’s cheeks turn pink. He hasn’t had a best friend since Gabriel, but that’s changed. He has you. His cheeks grow warmer as he knows what that means. Not only did you walk past his walls of defense - you also managed to slipped into a person’s most emotionally sensitive part - his heart. And the last time someone took residence in it, he lost them. He’s lost everyone that has ever meant something to him. Everyone he’s ever loved.

And he doesn’t want to lose you, too, because he doesn’t know if he could take it. Another loss. He can’t lose you because he… loves you. His best friend.

Miguel blinks sleepily at you. He gives your pinky a gentle hug, a squeeze. “Thank you for being here with me,” he whispers gently.

“Always,” you whisper back. You smile tenderly at him before you continue, whispering in the dead of night. “You’re not alone, Miguel. You don’t have to be anymore.”

He nods, a hint of a smile on his sleepy features. “Did you know…”

You raise an eyebrow, watching as Miguel slowly but surely gives in to his sleep. His eyes close more, his eyelids growing heavy.

“You’re my best…” Miguel starts but he falls asleep before he finishes his statement.

You stare at him as he finally gives in to sleep. He has such a gentle expression on his face, so peaceful. Meanwhile, your heart beats wildly against your chest as his words sink in. He was about to admit it out loud. That you’re his friend. No, his best friend.

You smile to yourself, a few tears forming in your eyes. Miguel considers you his best friend, just like you consider him yours. Tears roll down your face, over your nose and onto your other eye because of the way you’re laying on the ground. You wipe them away carefully.

It’s been a while since you’ve had a best friend, since Peter. You sniffle quietly and continue to smile as you look at Miguel, at your best friend. Your eyes flicker to your pinkies, still curled around each other’s, like a hug.

Shortly after, as you’re about to fall asleep, you feel Miguel shift in his sleep. You open your eyes just as his hand moves entirely over yours. His pinky is now wedged between your pinky and ring finger. His middle and ring fingers rest between your index finger and thumb. His forefinger is wrapped around the base of your thumb. His own thumb lays over your wrist, right where your pulse is located. Besides his thumb, the rest of his hand is curled around yours, protectively.

And for the first ever, you allow yourself to touch him. Just for this night.

You curl your fingers around his and as you doze off, you swear his gentle grip tightens ever so slightly.

—

Miguel sleeps with a peaceful expression on his face. You watch over him as the hours tick by. You fall asleep a few times during the night but always wake up to still find the sight of Miguel sleeping. Your hold on each other never loosens up, or at least you don’t think so, as each time you wake up, Miguel’s gentle grip and yours is the same.

At around 6am, Lyla appears above you. You blink, for a second wondering if you’re imagining her due to your sleepy state, but she moves closer and you know she’s real. She shows you a holographic sign.

“Do I wake him up?” she asks through the sign.

You think about it for a few seconds, turning to look at Miguel to your left. Your gaze takes in his soft and relaxed expression. A strand of hair has fallen over his forehead at some point while you’ve slept, and for about two seconds, you consider pushing it back gently but decide against it. Your ears register his breathing, slow and even, and when you look down at where his chest should be under the blanket, there’s a gentle rise. The warmth from his hand is strong and delightful and of course, there’s the feeling of his hand alone. Your palms are facing each other, his fingers are curled around your hand, his pinky wrapped around yours securely. Never faltering.

You sigh softly as you continue to watch Miguel. While living with him, you’ve learned that he wakes up at 6am every day but due to the night he’s had, you don’t have it in your heart to wake him up. Not yet. You decide he could really use at least one more hour.

You turn to Lyla, who has been watching you the entire time, noticing your tender and lingering gaze on her boss. It’s a sight, the way you watch Miguel. There’s never been any doubt in her mind that you care about him but if there was, this night would’ve erased it. For so long, Miguel has handled his nightmares on his own. And, there’s never been a single night that Miguel managed to find sleep either, but for the first time, he sleeps peacefully after a nightmare. Tonight, there was no sitting alone in his bedroom for hours before moving to the living room and sitting in the darkness.

There was no pacing around the penthouse on his own. No, tonight Miguel had a companion after a nightmare. He had a warm drink made for him and that same person sat near him in companionship, made him feel calm and warm, kept him grounded to the present despite talking about the past. It’s been clear to Lyla that you care about Miguel deeply, as he cares about you.

You shake your head at last, and mouth a “no” that Lyla immediately catches. She understands. Miguel ought to sleep a little longer. She nods and gives you a little thumbs up, watching for a few more seconds as you turn to look at Miguel again. She watches as you place your free arm under your head for a little more support, getting comfortable. She notices your eyes closing and silently nods to herself. You need sleep, too. You both do. Her eyes move to the joined hands in between the humans’ bodies. That’s a sight, too, one worthy of… She takes a snap and then flickers out, knowing her presence is not needed, for the humans have each other.

You wake up about forty minutes later. You remain in the same position as you watch the sun slowly come up in Nueva York. Gentle streams of sunlight enter the penthouse since the blinds are not fully drawn. Their presence is warm and comforting. A glance at your gizmo tells you it’s almost 7am.

You look over at Miguel. He’s still sleeping with his head on the pillow. Your blanket is up to his collarbone. There’s still that little strand of hair over his forehead. There’s the sun’s rays, the light softly cascading over him in some areas like parts of his hair and cheek. He looks so peaceful. So beautiful without a trace of worries or pain.

You can’t help but continue to watch him without guilt or worry about doing so. You let yourself admire him openly.

Miguel is a sight for sore eyes.

You look away at last and notice the time. Less than eight minutes before 7am. You’ll be waking up Miguel soon because you know he’ll still want to go to HQ, probably to try and make his day a normal one like he always does. You silently decide that you’ll stay near him today, and that you’ll be extra attentive to make his day a little better.

You send a quick message to Gwen through your gizmo, asking for a small favor and then wait it out. You relish the few minutes left of this moment. Miguel’s hand is still over yours. His gentle grip has grown firmer while you’ve both slept.

You cherish the few minutes left, the warmth of his hand, the vulnerability of it all but all too soon, you feel Miguel shift in his sleep. You glance at him, noticing his body move for the first time since he fell asleep. His eyes flutter open, bringing you into focus. He gazes at you sleepily. Something in his chest sparks - glows - at the sight of you near him.

He becomes aware of the way his hand is positioned, of the way he’s holding on to your hand, quite quickly because he feels your warm and gentle skin against his. And yet, he doesn’t make an effort to let go.

You don’t think about it much. He’s probably still in a sleepy state and the realization hasn’t fully hit him. Or maybe, just maybe, Miguel is okay with it. You silently hope that it’s the latter.

“Good morning,” you whisper gently as Miguel’s eyes flutter a few more times, slowly waking up.

“Good morning,” he replies, his voice sleepy and deep.

You offer a small smile. “Do you feel a little rested?”

Miguel nods. “I do. More than I usually do… Do you know what time it is?”

“It’s…” you pause and check your gizmo, “two minutes before seven.”

Miguel nods but then he raises an eyebrow, realizing. “I’m going to be late. Lyla-”

“She asked but I told her not to,” you tell him gently, making him pause. “I thought an hour of sleep would be good… I hope you don’t mind.”

Miguel stares at you, his eyes gazing into yours. “Did you manage to sleep a little?” he asks and you nod, relieving him. “I’m glad… I know this was probably not comfortable, sleeping on the floor.” Miguel pauses, his eyes looking above you for a few seconds before they return to you. “I don’t mind that you allowed me sleep one more hour since you got some sleep, too. Thank you,” he says gently.

You nod and the two of you remain like that for a few seconds, savoring the quietness and peace of the moment, of this morning after everything. Miguel recognizes it. It’s such an intimate moment, one unlike any other. A part of him recognizes he’s never done something like this. He’s never slept on the living room’s floor, much less with someone. His mind goes back to a few hours, how the two of you sat on the floor and drank canelita while he talked about everything in the dimly lit room.

It’s the first time for Miguel to be in such an intimate, vulnerable situation like that.

He looks at your joined hands and suddenly realizes, he probably ought to let go now… He ought to but Miguel doesn’t want to. He’s actually okay with this. More than okay, really. He’s fine with it. Scratch that, he’s content and comfortable with it. Yet, he ought to let go now because maybe your hand, or your entire arm, is tired from being in this position for so long.

“We should probably get ready for the day,” Miguel starts, breaking the silence at last, even though he’s really enjoying this moment.

You nod slowly, understanding it’s time to get started with the day. At least you’ve managed to let him sleep a little longer - at least he’s slept after one of his nightmares at all. You smile softly and nod again.

“Yeah, we probably should. If you want to head upstairs and take a shower while I do some things.”

Miguel nods at that. Right, a shower. He always showers in the morning and then again in the evening.

You’re both in understanding then, it’s time to start the day. It’s time to get up and get going, and yet, neither of you initiate the process. Neither of you pull your hand away, or even move your body. You both continue to lay on the ground facing each other, hands joined, staring everywhere except at each other.

“GOOD MORNING, SLEEPYHEADS!”

Miguel and you jump slightly, instantly retrieving your hands from each other’s due to Lyla’s sudden appearance between you. She watches you both sit up. She can’t help but snort to herself at the sight, thinking to herself that you both needed a little nudge that she was more than happy to provide. It was that, or painfully watch the way you were agreeing it was time to get going without actually wanting to part from each other. She silently judges the two of you. It’s clear you were both more than comfortable with the physical touch but neither of you want to admit it. She shakes her head lightly and sighs.

“I hope you both slept well,” she comments, inspecting a hand with a grin. “I hear your little task is going well, Y/N.”

You raise an eyebrow at that before you remember. “Oh, right. Thank you.”

That makes Miguel raise an eyebrow of his own at you, wondering what this “little task” is. You shake your head and stretch slightly just as Lyla disappears again, her mission accomplished.

“It’s a little treat but a surprise, so I’m not saying anything. As soon as we’re ready, we head out,” you tell him with a little smile, hoping that the small gesture cheers him up a bit.

Miguel sighs but he gives you a small, barely there smile. “Alright, I won’t ask then. I guess I’ll go get ready,” he says standing up, hearing and feeling his bones crack in multiple places from sleeping on the floor. He’s probably going to feel the ache later. The two of you are probably, Miguel realizes, as he turns to look at you. He steps closer, towering over you as you remain sitting on the floor. He extends a hand.

You look up, eyebrows slightly raised as you look from his face to his large hand. He’s offering a hand to help you up. You gulp subtly. It’s not that Miguel never offers a physical hand when it’s needed. He lends a hand when it’s necessary but the suits are always in between. It’s never skin to skin, so looking at his extended, bare hand now, you can’t help but question how uncomfortable he’ll be about it just for the sake of being a gentleman because if there’s something about Miguel, it’s that he’s a gentleman without question. And sure, your hands were just touching but Miguel was sleeping so it was more of an unconscious gesture, or at least that’s how you see it.

“Is that… okay?” you ask, looking into his eyes for any discomfort.

He nods. “Yes,” he says softly, his hand still extended for you.

“I can… I’m alright. You should head upstairs and get ready,” you reply gently with a little smile. He’s a gentleman but you don’t have to accept and make him uncomfortable.

Miguel blinks, immediately figuring out what you’re doing. He keeps his hand stretched out. “Are you really going to leave my hand hanging?” he asks, not upset but rather amused and touched by your reluctance. He knows you, so well. You’re declining it for his sake. “Vamos, let me help you up. It’s the least I can do,” Miguel gently says, trying to coax you. [Let's go/ Come on.]

You bite the inside of your cheek.

“I think this is the longest anyone has ever kept my hand waiting,” Miguel says in a light teasing tone, still waiting for you to take his hand.

You pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration before looking up at him. You’re giving him an out so he doesn’t make more physical touch than he has already. You search his face quickly, trying to find any discomfort but you find none. There is no discomfort. There’s not a trace or hint on his face that he’d prefer for you to reject his gesture.

You slowly reach out, feeling like time slows down as the distance between your hands decreases. You both watch as your hand reaches his at last, your fingers laying over his own tentatively. He tugs on your hand, his fingers folding your own until they’re tucked in his. When he feels the back of your fingers meet his palm, he then rests his thumb over your knuckles.

Feeling that you’re secure, Miguel gently pulls you, helping you onto your feet. You quickly loosen your grip, which was already loose to begin with, and gently pull your hand from his. You pretend to stretch again but your arm actually pops causing you to wince. You silently tell yourself that’s what you get for pretending.

“Thank you,” you say stretching said arm. “I’m going to… make some coffee.”

Miguel nods, his arm falling to his side. “I’ll be upstairs taking a shower.”

“Alright,” you reply, nodding, before you turn around and head to the kitchen.

Miguel nods, too, before he turns around himself and begins to head upstairs. He flexes his hand as he walks up the stairs, his suit activating from his wrist down to his fingertips for about three seconds before it flickers away. The sensation of your hand in his lingers all the way to his bathroom until he pushes the thought away to shower.

When Miguel steps out of the shower, he dries himself down and wraps a towel around his waist before approaching the double vanity sinks. He approaches the one he’s been using for years, the one he chose when he first moved into the place. He glances to the other one for a second, finding it empty as always before he retrieves what he needs. He begins to quickly but carefully shave off what little stubble he has. Miguel was going to do it last night but he put it off, thinking he could do it today after his morning shower, but of course, he had no idea what the night would be like.

Despite waking up later than he’s used to and possibly being tardy to HQ, Miguel shaves his face carefully to avoid any nicks or cuts. Once he’s done, Miguel washes his face to remove all product residue. He splashes lukewarm water onto his face, thinking about everything that happened over the night up to this morning. He slowly lifts his face, facing himself in the mirror. Droplets of water run down his face and splatter onto the sink. Miguel can’t help but notice a slight difference. He didn’t truly recognize the man staring back at him last night - hasn’t for a while. He couldn’t bear the sight, couldn’t stand to look into his own eyes.

He blinks now and stares. He looks right into his eyes and faces himself, truly, for the first time in years. And he finds, that for once, he can hold his own gaze without faltering.

Miguel’s past has tasted bitter for years. He’s carried and fought memories all on his own. He’s been cold and distant, and he’s built walls around himself for years. After losing Gabriella and his wife, there was no doubt in Miguel’s mind that his life was only meant for his job, to protect the fate of the multiverse. He believed that he was meant for nothing more. Not even friends.

But Miguel now knows that he’s wrong, and it won’t be the first nor last time he’ll be wrong about something.

Miguel frowns slightly as he finds a spot he missed entirely. He takes care of it, briefly remembering the one time you shaved his face almost a year ago. Miguel’s movements slow down as he remembers that day. He couldn’t move his arms too much that day due to the injuries and he mentioned wanting to shave the previous day, so you offered to do it the next day after his shower.

Miguel’s lips curl upwards at the memory. You seemed nervous about it, even asking him if you were doing okay because you were worried about hurting him but you did a fantastic job and he had no nicks or cuts by the end of it. As he places his razor down, he’s reminded of those days again and he’s struck by the fact that no one has ever looked after him in that way before you, not so intimately.

Miguel sighs and rinses his face again before he dries it off. He stares at himself in the mirror again. It’s morning and he’s made it past another night, this time with you by his side. He’s shared yet another part of his life, one of the most heartbreaking ones. One he once believed he’d never be able to talk about with anyone, but he has. Miguel turns to the side, towards the window.

His heart feels lighter. More than it has in a long time. He turns back to the mirror and meets his own eyes.

He made the promise almost a year ago to his deceased loved ones. The promise that he’d move forward, and he’s been trying.

“I’ll continue to try. I’ll try and be good on it. For all of you,” Miguel whispers as images of his loved flash in his mind. His wife, Gabriel, and his little Gabriella. Even for his mother and the other Miguel, who told him to take and appreciate the second chance at a different life. Miguel nods at himself, the image of you laying on the living room’s floor facing him just earlier when he woke up flashing in his mind. “For you, too,” Miguel says.

For his best friend.

With one last nod at himself, Miguel leaves the bathroom and quickly gets ready for the day to meet you downstairs. He enters the kitchen just as he puts his gizmo on. He finds you waiting by the counter, ready for the day yourself. You’re already in your suit, all showered and ready. There’s two thermos on the counter, which means coffee won’t be drank at the penthouse today. Miguel remembers suddenly that you have some little thing planned.

“Ready?” you ask with a smile when you notice Miguel.

He nods and walks further into the room. Your smile is a welcoming sight, as always. “I take it we’re leaving now?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Yep, we have somewhere to be! This is your thermos,” you reply handing him one. “If you’re ready, then we can be off.”

“Alright, I’m ready,” Miguel replies as he holds the thermos.

“Off we go then!”

“No hint as to where we’re going?” he asks.

“You’ll just have to come along with me to find out,” you reply as you lead the way to the living room.

Upon entering the living room, Miguel notices you’ve rearranged everything back. Your blanket is on the couch, neatly folded. Back in its home. The couch pillows are back in their usual places. He turns to look at you and playfully rolls his eyes because only last night he said that to you in this very room when the two of you were watching the telenovela.

“I see,” he replies with a soft frown as you open a portal with your gizmo before he offers you a smile, one that’s so much better than any other he’s offered over the last hours.

“It’s not big but I promise it’s good,” you say as you nod to the portal, gesturing for him to follow you.

And he does, because where wouldn’t he follow you?

The two of you enter the portal and step out into Gwen’s universe, specifically onto an empty rooftop. Miguel glances around but finds no one. Just what did you plan?

You move quickly once you step onto the rooftop, and search before you spot what you’re looking for. Miguel follows you with knitted eyebrows, thermos in his hand. You turn around and show him a takeout bag. His head tilts to the side.

“Follow me,” you say heading straight to the edge of the rooftop where you take a seat, with your legs dangling off the building.

Miguel takes a seat next to you and looks over at you as you open the bag. You hand him a medium size package. Upon touch, it’s warm.

“The best bagels, according to what we know right now, come from this universe,” you tell him as you pull one for yourself. “Go ahead, open it. I ordered you one that I thought you’d like.”

“Bagels… Thank you,” Miguel says slowly grinning at you, touched. The scent of food makes him realize he’s hungry, so he gratefully digs in.

You eat in silence next to each other, taking in the various hues of pink and purple. Miguel suddenly wonders.

“When did you ask Gwen for bagels?”

“Earlier,” you reply with a little smile.

Miguel returns the smile before his face softens. He looks down at his bagel. You definitely know him well because your choice for him is exactly what he would’ve ordered for himself. He looks up again, words forming on his tongue. “Thank you…. Not just for this,” he says, raising his bagel with a little smile. “But for everything else, too. I hope you know that it means a lot to me. Always,” Miguel says sincerely. “Everything means a lot to me.” Miguel pauses, looking up at the sky, thinking. He turns to look at you. “Thank you for not… giving up on me,” he whispers. “Even when I pushed you away in the beginning, when I ignored you and your coffee cups… You didn’t give up on me.”

You look into Miguel’s eyes, your heart racing due to his words. You nod gently. “Thank you for letting me in,” you whisper back.

Miguel gives you a soft smile before it fades a little. He taps one of his thighs with a finger, nervous. “You… You are…” Miguel tries. “You’re my…” He questions why it’s still so hard. The words are right there, right on the tip of his tongue, ready to be said out loud. “You’re my best…”

Your lips part as you hear his words. A few hours ago he almost said them in his sleep and now he’s trying again. Still, you remind yourself to be calm and collected. It’s a start and Miguel has opened so much over the last hours. Much more than he’s used to in such a short amount of time.

“And you’re mine, too,” you say gently, sincerely.

Miguel smiles warmly at that. He nods. “… Friend.”

You smile back and chuckle softly. “You’re my…” you start and then pause because maybe Miguel isn’t ready to hear you say it either, the way he’s not able to say it himself.

Miguel stares at you, watching as you’re about to say it but stopping. He takes a deep breath. He wants to say it. He needs to say it. And he wants to be the first to do so.

You smile at him. “We’ll get there,” you say softly, knowing that one day it will happen.

“I’ve lost a lot of people in my life,” Miguel tells you, holding your gaze. “It made me believe that my life was meant to be lived alone. It’s also made me believe that letting anyone close will end in something happening to them. That I’ll lose them, too.” Your eyebrows furrow as you hear this, at the fact that Miguel believes such a thing but it makes sense why he hasn’t let anyone in for so long. Suddenly, you realize. Is this why he’s found it hard to admit that you’re friends? That you mean something to him?

“It’s why I haven’t been able to say that you and me… What we are,” Miguel continues. “Maybe it’s stupid, but I’ve believed it. For a long time.”

You nod slowly, feeling overwhelmed by this revelation.

“What you said earlier, about living my life the way my loved ones would - it stuck with me. You’re right,” Miguel says nodding. He gives you a determined look. “They would probably tell me, Gabriel specifically, that my belief is foolish. And I think, neither Gabriel nor Gabriella would hesitate to say it, so…” Miguel trails off, finding the motivation from his loved ones to banish his belief once and for all.

“You don’t have to say it if you’re not ready. In due time, Miguel, really. Please take your time,” you say but not even a second later, Miguel speaks.

“You’re my best friend,” Miguel says gently, with a light pink growing on his cheeks.

Your eyes widen a little. You weren’t actually expecting him to say it today and with such ease. You blink several times, feeling flustered all of a sudden for a few seconds before a smile forms on your lips slowly. You hum softly and nod at him, feeling not only proud of him, but something else that stirs within your chest.

“Thank you,” you say softly, still smiling. “You’re my best friend, too.”

Miguel, whose heart has been racing since he spoke those once impossible words, smiles back at you. And for the first time, Miguel’s smile isn’t a small one like all his previous ones. It’s a real, real smile and it’s beautiful, just like you’ve always imagined it.

Miguel and you stare at each other, smiling. Your breakfast seems to have been forgotten for the time being until the silence is disrupted.

“More friends are approaching quickly. On your left,” Lyla says, appearing between Miguel and you to warn you before she disappears again.

“What?” Both Miguel and you say before you sense it, or rather them.

“Hey, there they are! Right where Gwen said they’d be at,” someone says. Hobie.

“Why were you doubting me? I told you they’d be there.” Gwen.

“Ay, tio! Y/N!” Miles says coming into view with everyone else in tow.

Miguel and you glance at each other before turning, only to find part of the spiderlings, who land on the rooftop within seconds, here now.

“Shouldn’t you guys be in school?” you ask with a little frown as it’s Friday morning.

“Yeah, why are you guys not in school?” Miguel asks with a frown of his own, a hint of his parental instinct coming to the surface.

“We still have some minutes,” Miles says with a shrug, smiling.

“Plus, we can easily just sneak into the building,” Pav says.

“Hobie,” you say.

“What of it? I already told them to go, but I’m not about to force them. Gotta encourage free thinking, you know?” he replies sitting next to you, giving you his signature smile.

You shake your head slightly, amused. Somewhere, you can sense the other spiderlings behind you.

“You guys interrupted a moment, you know?” Lyla says, sounding like she’s lightly scolding them.

“What moment?” Gwen asks.

“They finally admitted they’re best friends,” Lyla replies.

“Oh,” Miles replies.

“Wait, really?” Margo says.

“I could’ve sworn we all knew that already,” Gwen adds.

“I thought everybody knew that?” Pav asks, confused.

Miguel and you freeze as you look at each other, hearing everyone’s responses simultaneously. Next to you, you swear Hobie holds back from laughing, most likely for your sake, because you hear him snort. You silently decide that you’ll most definitely be talking with him later because this is the first time you’re hearing your friends admit this little piece of information.

Looking at Miguel, you can see his cheeks grow more pink. You grin at him, trying to hold back from chuckling but failing. Miguel shakes his head in amusement before chuckling lowly as well. The two of you continue to eat your breakfast as Gwen passes out bagels to everyone and soon after, everyone else joins. Peter B. with Mayday, Noir, Peni, and Spider-Ham all travel to Gwen’s universe.

“Hey, guys,” Peter B. says coming from behind, giving you and Miguel a pat on the back.

“Peter,” Miguel simply says as a greeting.

“Good morning,” you tell Peter who grins at you before he kneels between Hobie and you.

“What’s this I hear about someone finally realizing something very important?” he asks, causing Hobie to chuckle.

“Peter,” Miguel says again but this time more firmly and with a frown.

“I was talking about how -” Peter pauses, looking for something to say. “Hobie discovered he does like consistency in his bagels,” Peter finishes.

“No, I don’t,” Hobie interjects.

Miguel glares at Peter. “Right.”

“We talk later,” Peter says to you before he stands up to retrieve his bagel.

With a smile, you continue to eat yours while your friends chat all around you. Miguel and you simply stare at the skyline in silence as you eat.

“Is this okay?” you ask him, suddenly wondering if he doesn’t mind being around too much people this early after the night he had but Miguel nods.

“It’s… More than okay,” he replies honestly, staring at the tall buildings. “It hasn’t been a lonely morning.”

You nod slowly, understanding what he’s saying. His mornings after nightmares are usually spent alone until he gets to HQ.

“The chaos is nice,” he adds, looking at you now. He gives you a soft smirk.

“It is nice,” you reply, agreeing.

Miguel nods and looks at the sky, at the sun rising. It really is nice. And it feels new.

“I was thinking… Could you help me with something?” Miguel asks quietly.

You finish taking a drink from your coffee and nod. “Of course, what is it?”

Miguel turns to look at you. The spider gang is behind the two of you arguing about whose bagel is the best and Miguel wonders why they’re arguing about that when most of them should head to school. “I was thinking that the penthouse has been the same for many, many years. Decoration wise,” he starts. “I don’t really have the best experience with it. My mom and Gabriel were the ones that decorated it to begin with, actually, but I think it’s time for a little change.”

You smile. “And you would like for me to…”

“Help me make good decoration decisions. Your apartment - I really like it,” Miguel admits. “It always feels so warm and welcoming. Maybe you can give me some hints to make the place like that…”

“I’d be more than happy to.”

“Really?” Miguel says, for some reason sounding surprised.

“Really! When we get home, you can tell me what you’d like and we can make a mood board. Does that sound good?”

Miguel freezes for a moment.

‘When we get home...’

“Yes, that’s - that sounds great,” Miguel replies at last, nodding. He takes a sip of coffee, trying to ignore his thoughts on your words and instead focusing on the changes he’d like to make around the penthouse. One of his favorite parts of your apartment is your wall with photographs, something he lacks in his own home, but with this upcoming redecorating, Miguel thinks about how he’d like to have pictures of Gabriella and Gabriel around the place. He glances subtly at you. There’s also a lot of photos of you and him. He’d like to add those, too. Miguel stores the idea for later, for when the two of you get back to the penthouse, back home, and talk about it. For now, he focuses on the sounds of the city and your friends, who are still going on about the bagels.

He’s tempted to tell them you and him have the best ones just to fuel them but he decides against it, and just listens to them, enjoying the light bickering.

You eventually head to HQ to work. It’s an easy Friday with no missions involving anomalies. Just like you told yourself earlier, you stay near Miguel for the rest of the day, something he notices. You spend the day with him in the lab, working on your own things and talk occasionally. Of course, Lyla joins in on the conversations.

It’s no surprise that by four in the afternoon, the two of you are sluggish from the night you’ve had. Miguel looks at the time. You’ve both had coffee and food but the lack of sleep is definitely hitting the two of you at this point in the day and with one simple request to Lyla, Miguel learns that you slept far less than you made it seem this morning. He makes the decision then, to leave HQ earlier than he has in a long time.

“I’m almost done organizing this,” you tell him as you organize a drawer, your face showing your exhaustion. It tells Miguel the two of you definitely need to go now.

“That can wait for Monday.”

“I can come with you tomorrow.”

“Monday. Let’s go. I’m going to cook something that you’ll really like, I think,” he says, nodding to the lab’s door.

And so, upon reaching the penthouse, Miguel tells you to go and get comfortable. To go rest for a bit while he cooks but you end up changing into lounge clothes and joining him. You play music from his record player while he cooks some chilaquiles, a traditional Mexican dish, and one that never fails to cheer Miguel up.

After dinner, and a shower for Miguel, the two of you find yourselves in the living room again. With your tablet in hand, you start creating a mood board for Miguel’s place as he tells you about his ideas. The two of you sit on the floor once again, close to each other, so you can show him your screen and what you’re putting together for him. And while you work on that, the telenovela from the previous night, plays in the background.

---

Next Part Translations: telenovela - Latin TV soap opera Ave María Purísima - Hail Mary Most Pure, conceived without sin; Palmarian greeting Perdóname - Forgive me Hija - Daughter por favor - Please Lo siento mucho, mija - I'm so sorry, my daughter ternura - endearment, tenderness canelita - hot cinnamon tea pan dulce - sweet Mexican bread garibaldis - a kind of pan dulce Dia de los Muertos - Day of the Dead café de olla - coffee made in a pot (really craving this right now; running on three hours of sleep lol) Vamos - Let's go/ Come on tio - uncle chilaquiles - traditional Mexican dish, usually served for breakfast but it can be eaten for any meal of the day; consists of fried corn tortillas cut into quarters drizzled with a sauce and fresh cheese and accompanied with other sides like fried eggs and beans; my favorite dish; the way to my heart after tacos de asada --- Hi, guys!! I hope you're all doing well :) I'm sorry for how long it took me to update. I blinked and February just went by?? It's crazy 😭 it's already March! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter despite the sad bits. I really wanted Miguel to talk about his past and Gabriella, to take another step for him to heal. 🥺 I also took some liberty around the canon theory. I genuinely don't believe in it or that Miguel being in Gabriella's universe was the cause for the collapse. Maybe I'm wrong but it really doesn't make sense to me, so I decided to go this route. I feel like the real cause is going to be so obvious, and probably preventable in the end since the Society has been successful in saving some universes already but that's just my humble opinion! I want to give some shoutouts and credit now! @gxdoesstuff suggested (a while back) the idea of Miguel having a scarf in the lab with reader's scent to comfort him when he's stressed out! I've been waiting to include it since the New Year's one-shot and finally incorporated it!! It was so cute to think about and I loved the little interactions that came from it!! Thank you!! Also, shoutout to @desb3ar for the idea on Miguel putting a pillow inside reader's sweatshirt based on this post she made!! I've been thinking about this for months and wanted to include it and have reader see it, so I had to be patient for this part of the story🤭 Thank you, Des!! Just thinking about how Miguel probably imagines hugging reader! (I'm okay, not 😭) Also, shoutout to my friend @faretheeoscar - the garibaldis and chilaquiles mention was for you! I'm really craving both now tbh 😩 and to have Miguel make chilaquiles? Sign me up, ASAP!!! Can we just talk about how many steps Miguel took here? He admitted they're BEST FRIENDS!!! I'm so proud of Miguel for real!! 😭 And the way they're now watching a telenovela and going to redecorate his place! Fanservice... for me🧍🏻‍♀️... For anyone curious, the telenovela I was talking about is called Destilando Amor. I started rewatching it just for this chapter and then I just kept going lol, it had me giggling and everything! They really don't make them like they used to 😔 Anyway, I had little sleep so I think I'm rambling now. Went to sleep at 4am and woke up at 8 to finish this, but I'm so so happy to update!! I hope you guys enjoyed it!! Thank you for reading, and I hope March is treating you well so far!!! 😊❤️ -Alondra tag list: @loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp @rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi

@loveletterfrommwah @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze @yujyujj @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea @moonsua1 @darksidescorner@geminis93 @1800-get-alife @hrrtkreuz @oharasfilipinawife @dropyoursocksandgrabyourcrocss @may4ri @t4naiis @f1-hoff @llumetrii

[4hournap]

Idea:

Twisted Wonderland x Angry Mexican(GN) Reader

What do I mean by that?

I want a broken-down, rage-filled Mc who is done with everyone's bullshit.

I want this person to fall apart, so angry they're crying. Mc had a vision/dream of their photo being on their family's Ofrenda for Día Del Los Muertos.

"I Have Every Right To Be Angry! You Lot Have A Home To Return To! You Have Support Systems! I WAS RIPPED AWAY FROM MY FAMILY! FROM MY WORLD! THEY PROBABLY BELIEVE I'M DEAD! BUT NO, I'M HERE PLAYING A GLORIFIED BABYSITTER TO A GLUTTONOUS CAT WHO'S ALWAYS DRAGGING ME INTO STUPID SITUATIONS! I AM SICK AND TIRED OF THIS. AND OF THE MISTREATMENT OF THAT NARCISSISTIC BIRD. CONSTANTLY DEALING WITH THE THREAT OF BEING KICKED OUT, HAVING THE POWER CUT OFF, AND NEVER HAVING ENOUGH FOOD. YOU DON'T GET TO BE ANGRY WITH ME! YOU DON'T GET TO CALL ME SELFISH!"

What do we think? Also plz forgive any spelling errors 😅

[decaffeinatedbreadsublime]

Rajesh Koothrappali x Female!Reader: The Comic Con Redemption

Author's Note: I love Raj very much and want to rewrite moments from the series including a girlfriend for him to pretend he didn't end up alone.

P.S.: English is not my first language, and this is my first imagine. Sorry for any mistakes.

Warning: none

Summary: You've just been promoted to Girlfriend of the Millennium.

(gif just to illustrate their happiness, lol)

Raj sighed, disheartened. "The tickets sold out… I didn’t get any."

It was another tense day at the opening of Comic Con ticket sales. The friends had gathered at Sheldon’s apartment, all agitated, each with their laptop in hand. They frantically pressed F5 until they managed to get into the virtual queue—if they managed to.

"I didn’t get one either," Howard replied. From the frustrated faces of Leonard and Sheldon, it was evident they hadn’t succeeded either.

"This was supposed to be the best Comic Con in the last 20 years," Leonard lamented. "I can’t believe we’re going to miss it."

"Now I know how Mexican immigrants feel when they’re barred from entering the United States and living the American dream they desire so much," Sheldon commented, his voice monotone in a sad tone.

"…No, Sheldon, you don’t know," Leonard said. Despite the frustration, he didn’t agree with Sheldon’s exaggerated drama.

When you arrived at the apartment from your shift at Caltech’s Computational Mathematics lab, where you worked as a researcher, the atmosphere was similar to a funeral. The last time you saw them this sad was when Tony Stark had died.

"Oh, no," you said, going to your boyfriend Raj’s side and sitting on the arm of the chair he occupied. "Don’t tell me another superhero died… when Tony Stark died, you were in mourning for three days, it was horrible."

"It’s worse," Sheldon said. "We didn’t get tickets to Comic Con."

"I already had my cosplay ready," Leonard sighed.

"Speaking of which," you stood up, took the bag that was still on your shoulder, and pulled out four identical pieces of paper. "Julie’s husband, who was my roommate at Harvard, works in event organization and is organizing this year’s Comic Con. I got four tickets for you guys."

You placed the tickets on the table, and everyone stood still for a few seconds, completely immobile. Sheldon picked up one of the tickets from the coffee table, analyzed it cautiously, and held it up to the light to verify its authenticity. When he finished, he put the ticket back on the table and sat up straight, in complete silence.

"Well?" Howard asked.

"They’re real," Sheldon replied.

"Y/N, YOU GENIUS, WONDERFUL WOMAN!" Raj instantly shouted. He quickly got up from the chair, went to you, gave you a hug that lifted you off the ground, and spun you around. Then he kissed you intensely.

"Why didn’t you tell us you had the tickets?" Leonard asked.

"Julie’s husband could only confirm if he could get them 30 minutes before the official batch opened," you explained. "I didn’t want to say anything before to avoid creating expectations. And when I got them, I called Raj five times, but he didn’t answer. So I called you guys, and no one answered. But I decided to get the tickets anyway, and if you managed to buy some, I could sell them, so it would be a win-win situation."

"We were doing finger stretches to avoid cramps while buying the tickets," Sheldon explained. "That’s why we missed the call."

You laughed. "Well, I guess you owe me one."

Raj hugged you again, kissing your temple. "Consider me your servant for the next weeks."

[couldsewyouastitchandsavenine]

Home [Frankie 'Catfish' Morales]

pairing: frankie 'catfish' morales x reader

wordcount: 787

warnings: none

The loose floorboard in the hallway groans a warning as Frankie eases the apartment door shut with his hip, willing the latch to catch without waking you. It doesn’t cooperate. The sound reverberates like a gunshot in the predawn stillness.

He winces. Holds his breath. Tries to focus on any other sound that isn’t the pounding of his own pulse in his ears. Half-expects to hear the rustle of sheets, the padding of concerned feet.

But the bedroom remains silent. Small mercies. 

In the cramped kitchen, he deposits his keys in the stoneware bowl you made in that pottery class last spring — the glaze a blue so pale it’s almost grey. Frankie likes the weight of it in his palm, the way the cool lip catches on his fingertips. Solid. Real. Just like you.

He then sheds his jacket. The leather one you say makes him look like one of main characters from those Mexican telenovelas your mother used to watch. Drapes the garment over the wonky lath-back chair neither of you use. Stops. Closes his eyes. 

The grey half-light filtering through the blinds paints his skin in shades of ash and sorrow. He knows what he’ll see if he looks in the mirror hanging beside the door. Hair overdue for a cut. Stubble gone rogue. Crow's feet carved deep as canyons around eyes that have seen too much. Bruises under his eyes darker than the ones blooming across his ribs, souvenirs from a world that's always been more keen to break than to bend.

But there are laugh lines there too, now. Trenches carved by joy instead of worry. Your love marks him in kinder ways. And when you run the pad of your thumb along the furrow between his brows, it’s always a little less deep than it was this time last year.

You’re gentling him. Slowly, slowly. A feral creature coaxed in from the cold, learning to trust the warmth of the heart.

Frankie fills the coffee pot. Catalogues his aches as it percolates. His shoulder throbs and his knuckles sting beneath their ripped scabs. Nothing he hasn't endured before. And if he’s being honest, he doesn't remember what it feels like to wake up without something hurting. Without some part of him crying out in remembered pain.

But it's duller now, muted. Easier to breathe through.

He looks away.

There are pink dish gloves, as size too small for his hands, draped over the faucet. A mug with a chip on the rim waiting beside the sink – a faint lipstick print still visible.

You’d waited up. You always wait up. 

His heart clenches and his chest fills up with that feeling that always leaves him a bit disoriented. A little bit dizzy. 

He carries his coffee to the sagging couch, the one you'd picked out together at the thrift store down the street. It's ugly as sin but sinfully comfortable. He sinks into it now, letting the worn fabric absorb his weight, his weariness.

The first sip scalds his throat but he welcomes the burn. Lets his head fall back. Stares at the ceiling. There’s a water stain in the corner that looks like a lopsided heart. He wonders if it’s shaped like yours, misshapen from making room for him inside its chambers. 

His eyes prickle. He closes them. 

The bedroom door sighs and there’s a soft shuffling of bare feet on hardwood. And then you emerge — hair sleep-mussed and eyes barely open. But then you blink at him, your eyes still hazy with dreams, soft and rumpled and smudged at the edges.

His chest constricts, a sweet ache blooming behind his ribs.

"You're home," you mumble, padding to the couch on quiet feet before climbing into his lap, graceless with exhaustion, all elbows and knees and cold toes seeking warmth. You fit yourself against him, your head finding the crook of his neck like it was made to rest there — your cool nose nuzzling against his pulse point.

He wraps his arms around you. Tugs you closer.

“I’m home,” Frankie whispers into your hair, and you only burrow closer. Tuck your cold toes under his thigh. Hum contentedly when his fingers slip under your shirt to trace your spine. His ribs creak as you settle but he doesn’t shift you. Just breathes you in. You smell like sleep and fabric softener and something that might be peace. 

The weak winter sunlight inches across the floor, tentative and pale, reaching for you with gossamer fingers. He lets it come. Lets it wash over you, chasing away the lingering shadows of the night. There are no shadows here it can’t touch. Not anymore. Not while you’re in his arms. 

Not while you're his home.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Neon Moon - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: You're drowning your sorrows after calling off your engagement on Valentine's Day in a Mexican restaurant in San Diego. Alongside you, Bradley Bradshaw sits at the bar, going through a similar situation.

A/N: my first attempt at writing something a little angsty, I’m not overly confident in it but I was drunk on strawberry margaritas in San Diego last night after spending the day in Coronado so here we are. Also definitely inspired by my own past relationship 🌚 And inspired by Neon Moon by Brooks and Dunn. Also sorry for the whacky spacing because I’m posting from my phone! - not beta read or proofread bc I live life in the danger zone.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x f!reader

warnings/content: cheating (not Bradley or reader), failed engagements/breakups, mentions of divorce, drinking, angsty-ish with a happier ending.

word count: 3.5K

read the rest of my What’s Your Country Song mixtape series! 🩷

if you lose your one and only, there’s always room here for the lonely, so watch your broken dreams dance in and out of the beams of a neon moon.

You sat at the bar, sighing heavily as you snacked on the free, fresh tortilla chips and salsa, nursing your pink margarita, the notes of strawberry and tequila doing everything in its power to alleviate the pain of your latest breakup. You know alcohol isn’t a miracle worker, but by God, at this point you’re beginning to wonder. Your ex-fiancé just called off your wedding, and left you wondering why on earth you ever agreed to move thousands of miles from home to San Diego for a man who barely had his shit together.

You fiddled with the straw in your glass, sipping the strawberry-laden drink back, the tequila burning your throat slightly as it went down. It was getting late in the evening, but you were willing to stay here a couple more hours until closing just to get the most amount of time away from your apartment as you could. You knew you’d have to face the inevitable, but you dreaded it. How could you not? How could anyone in their right mind choose to haul their ass back to the apartment their ex just called off their wedding ceremony in, where the person they’d loved just confessed they didn’t share that feeling that was supposedly mutual, that they’d grown weary of the marriage ideal that they’d proposed to you.

Your bartender shot you a sympathetic look when you walked in that night, sensing that you weren’t here celebrating Valentine’s Day like most of the patrons around you. He slid you a basket of fresh, warm, homemade tortilla chips and a cup of the restaurant’s in-house salsa, alongside a drink menu with an encouraging nod. You appreciated the kindness towards you, even if it was just out of pity. As the bar side became less busy as the night went on, he asked how you were doing, if you needed anything else, if you wanted to order a meal. You hemmed and hawed over whether or not authentic Mexicali food was the solution to all of your problems when the seat to your right suddenly gained a patron - a single patron who looked just as downtrodden, if not more so, than you.

“Bradley!” The bartender said cheerfully, a hearty smile on the man’s face as he grabbed a pint glass, “Your usual, my friend?”

“Please, and just keep ‘em comin’, man,” said the voice beside you.

Bradley was a tall man, with a neatly trimmed mass of warm, golden-brown waves on top of his head, sun kissed skin and a pair of aviator sunglasses resting on the collar of his white t-shirt. Over the white undershirt, sat the loudest printed Hawaiian shirt you’d ever laid your eyes on - a bubblegum pink coloured background with an assortment of bright white, black and deep orangey-red palm leaves adorning it. A few faded scars scattered the side of his face, barely noticeable unless he tilted his head just so in the warm yellow-hued lights overhead. His fuller lips were resting in an emotionless line, a trimmed and styled mustache, straight out of an 80’s movie resting over the top of his lip.

As Bradley and the bartender, whose name you’d now forgotten after your second margarita, not that it was ever going to stick in your mind in the first place - you were stressing over how to tell 150 guests that a wedding was no longer taking place simply because the man who asked you had decided he no longer loved you, and despite having felt that way for quite some time, opted to tell you three months before your big day, after a majority of things were paid for, almost all of which non-refundable, meaning you’d be enjoying a wedding cake for 150 people at a venue by yourself, celebrating some other occasion in a couple of months.

You couldn’t help but overhear the bartender give Bradley the same words of encouragement as he’d given you - reminding you both that “que sera sera, whatever will be will be”, a direct quote from an old Doris Day song that you recognized from the times your grandmother made you watch her collection of Alfred Hitchcock VHS tapes, along with all the other classic movies you were subjected to. Bradley offered a weak smile, nodding his head along to the advice.

“I don’t know, man, she definitely isn’t coming back. I don’t think I want her to either. Came home from three months away to get told she was off base and in Coronado for the day, I decided to surprise her and find her having a lunch date with some lower-ranking officer.”

“That’s harsh, brother,” the bartender nods sympathetically before his brown eyes light up, as if Bradley’s cheating significant other has inspired him in some way.

“Actually, my friend, the lovely senorita on your left side has something in common with you,” he explained as he shot you a grin before nodding his head, “My friend Bradley here was married. You both are nursing the same pain tonight. Might not be a bad idea for you two to nurse that pain together, especially since we close in an hour.”

Bradley’s face flushed to a pinkish hue as he shot his friend a glare before turning to you with an apologetic, half-hearted smile.

“No offense, I’m sure you’re great, I just…caught my wife out with another officer over the bridge at Coronado and I really don’t know if drinking with another girl is the right thing to do.”

“Understood, my fiancé just called off our wedding because he decided three months before was a good time to tell me he’d fallen out of love with me nine months ago and no longer wanted to go through with it.”

“Ah, maybe Angel over here is on to something then,” Bradley let out a melancholic chuckle as he took a sip of his beer, the amber coloured liquid sliding past his lips, the froth at the top brushing against the edge of his mustache.

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry to hear about your wife,” you nodded, suddenly thankful as you realized if your ex hadn’t broken things off now, you could have easily wound up in the same position as Bradley is now in a few years.

“It’s alright, had a feelin’ she wasn’t really loving the military spouse life as much as she let on, but didn’t think that meant she’d find a different serviceman to try it on with while I was gone and stationed in the middle of the Pacific.”

“Jesus, that’s rough, I’m sorry.”

“Eh, not your fault. I’m Bradley, by the way. Normally I’d do the whole formal military introduction but…just Bradley is fine tonight. I kinda need a break from that for a minute.”

“Understood.”

You nodded again before giving him your name. An awkward silence fell over you both before you looked out towards the patio, the lights along the pier illuminating the San Diego Bay as you looked across to Coronado.

“That’s where I’m stationed,” Bradley nodded his head towards the island across the bay as he took another sip of his beer, “North Island.”

“You’re an aviator?”

“TOPGUN graduated, been flyin’ for just over 20 years now.”

“20 years?”

“Yeah,” Bradley blushed, nodding his head, “I’m 40 in June. I get told I look about 10 years younger than that. A lot. Especially by other guys over there. The one guy in my detachment’s about 5 years younger than me and everyone says he looks closer to my age than I do. Not as a dig to Hangman or nothin’, just as an observation that I kinda look fresh to the Navy, you know?”

“Hangman…?” You raised your eyebrow quizzically at the name he just called his friend, almost concerned about his parents' life choices.

“Real name’s Jake. Everyone calls us using callsigns over there - his is Hangman, but if we wanna piss him off, he’s Bagman. I’m Rooster. One guy’s just Bob, one girl’s Phoenix, another girl’s Halo, then there’s Payback, Fanboy, Coyote, Harvard and Yale, Fritz, my dad’s Navy buddy is Maverick, our Air Boss is Cyclone, it goes on.”

“Why is your callsign Rooster?”

“Eh, my dad’s sign was Goose. They asked me to pick one and I wanted to honor him, but I couldn't use the same one I figured, so I went for the first bird I could think of. They were gonna call me Boomer because I’m loud as fuck half the time, but I guess I have a bit of a reputation for waiting until the moment’s right to take action. One guy said that I sorta sit perched like a rooster waiting for the sun to rise, and it stuck more than Boomer did.”

“Gotcha. Are you from San Diego?”

“Sorta. I was born here, my dad was stationed up at Miramar which is on the other side from Coronado, but then he died when I was two in a training accident, my mom moved me back to where she was from in Virginia, it’s where she met my dad, actually. He was from Virginia but like, closer to the D.C. area, my mom was from Richmond. Then I grew up there, went to UVA, and got stationed at Virginia Beach, went to TOPGUN in Nevada and then got sent back to Virginia, then from there got called to North Island.”

“So you’ve lived in a few states then. I moved out here from New York a couple years ago. My ex is from La Jolla, came to New York for university, met me, got a job in the city, then got an offer to work here, and came back, took me with him.”

“So your family’s all back in New York?”

“Yeah, bit far, like a 6 hour flight home.”

“Jesus, I may not have much for family, but at least I know I’ve got my squad to kinda support me. And I’ve got Maverick, who’s like a second dad to me.”

“I’m still debating what to do - do I stay in San Diego and just make this my home now, or do I go back to Manhattan with my tail between my legs so to speak and move back in with my parents?”

Bradley nodded his head solemnly before letting out a sharp exhale, a smile forming on his face as he looked out at the bay and then back at you.

“Whatdya say we go for a walk? Catch some fresh air? Maybe we can help each other figure out our next moves so poor Angel here can close up for the night.”

Bradley must have sensed some apprehension in your gaze, because almost seconds after speaking, he held his hands up innocently and laughed.

“I promise I’m not suggesting this out of an ulterior motive. Just suggesting it as a guy who’s sorta in the same boat as you and could use some company.”

You looked at your watch and shrugged your shoulders. You certainly didn’t want to head home any time soon, and Bradley seemed genuine enough, plus, it was nice having someone who understood what you were going through, even if it meant both of you now had to completely reevaluate your lives. You set your credit card down on the table for Angel to ring up your bill, but before he could take it, Bradley shook his head and handed it back to you.

“It’s on me.”

“I can’t let you pay for my drinks, but thank you.”

“Listen, it was money that was gonna be spent on my wife for a Valentine’s Day dinner anyway. Least I can do is pay for your two…pink…whatever those are.”

“Strawberry margaritas.”

“Right, yeah, those. Pink tequila with fruit.”

He smirked as he closed out the tab for both of you before hopping off his barstool. He politely offered his arm out to you as you stood to your feet. Angel shot you both a knowing grin, waving you and his friend off as you headed out. The air on the pier was mild, a soft breeze blowing in off the water of the bay. As you headed down the street together, chatting about life and what you did for a living, Bradley’s rank in the Navy, his favorite sports, your favorite movies, you almost forgot about your ex and the breakup you’d been trying to numb with fruity heartache medication moments ago.

As it turned out, you and Bradley shared a fond love of baseball and romantic comedies, you’d both grown up watching classic movies with your grandmothers, both had a fondness for old music - Elvis, The Beach Boys, Jerry Lee Lewis, Neil Sedaka - it turned out that for two strangers with a 12 year age gap, you had much more in common than you could have expected. In fact, you’d actually argue that you and Bradley had more shared interests than you and your ex had.

As you both wandered up the street towards Seaport Village, the bayside shopping district set up alongside one of the piers, you basked in the glow of the streetlights over head, taking the time to appreciate the calmness of the bay, the sights and sounds of the water as it took your focus off the happy, lovestruck couples that walked around past you all.

The moon hung low in the sky overhead, glowing against the deep blackish-blue backdrop of the night sky, appearing to have a neon glow behind it. Bradley looked up at the sky, letting out a loud, exhaled breath as he shook his head.

“I don’t wanna head back to base and deal with the mess waiting for me there. Never thought I’d be filing divorce papers on Valentine’s Day, you know?”

“I have to call 150 guests and tell them that the wedding scheduled for May isn’t taking place but they can still come eat the cake that we paid for at the venue that I can’t get the 50% deposit back for.”

Bradley laughed softly, although the laugh wasn’t one of happiness - more one of pity for the two of you over your situations, and how neither of you wanted to go home because it would mean taking action with the hands you were dealt, no matter how unfair they were.

“Fuck, how’d we end up in this mess? I guess I should be thankful that she and I never had kids then, right?”

He laughed again, a dry, hollow laugh at his situation. “I wanted them, she didn’t. I just figured in my late thirties that it wasn’t really an issue worth pushing and it was probably best if I didn’t.”

“My dad was 44 when I was born, I never thought it was weird, if that helps.”

“Hey, means I’ve got 4 years, right? Can’t really adopt a kid when you’re in the Navy though, with not being home a lot and all that, and I don’t know if I see myself remarrying or anything. Besides, I feel like it’s asking a lot of a woman to settle down with me then have her waiting at home alone most of the time, or alone with our kids, if we have ‘em. Seems a bit unfair. I guess I could retire but, I don’t know if I’m ready for that either, you know?”

“You just have to find someone who wants to wait for you. You know, someone who doesn’t mind being a military spouse.”

“Good luck with that,” He said with a dry chuckle again, “I wouldn’t wanna be one if the shoe was on the other foot, it’s a lot of me to ask someone else to do it.”

“Well, I’m not suggesting you ask a random girl on the street to marry you, Bradley, I meant like, date, get to know the woman, find out from there if she’s cool with it.”

“I guess so,” He sighed heavily as he looked up at the moon, “You know, always thought I’d have a marriage like my parents did. I know my dad died before I was really old enough to remember, but I see pictures and you just…you knew they were crazy about each other. Maverick always said they flirted like they were a couple’a teenagers on their first date all the time.”

“Bradley, do you wanna come grab a coffee with me?”

“Coffee? It’s like nine at night.”

“Yeah, I could use some sobering up though.”

“Ah, what the hell. I don’t have to be anywhere.”

Bradley gestured in front of him, allowing you to lead the way. As you began to walk on the outside of the sidewalk, he shook his head and gently placed his hand on your shoulder to guide you to the inside.

“Sorry, force of habit. My mom always said not to let a lady walk on the outside of the sidewalk. She said my dad never let her risk getting splashed by a puddle when they walked down the street. Sorta trained it into me by the time I was 10. Maverick and my grandma both agreed. Think it’s an old Southern thing.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind it,” you smiled softly at him, rolling your shoulders into a subtle shrug.

Bradley smiled at you, a genuine, proper smile. His previously stoic and reserved look had melted away momentarily, deep dimples forming either side of his mouth. Bradley’s caramel coloured eyes seemed to glisten as the moonlight caught them, amber flecks sparkling before he shook his head, an awkward chuckle escaping his parted lips.

“You know, I gotta thank you.”

“Why’s that?”

“You helped me forget temporarily about what I have to do tonight when I get home.”

“I guess I should thank you for the same thing.”

“I haven’t felt this at ease in…a really long time. I guess I always kinda suspected she was cheating, but I didn’t want to believe it. I mean, no one wants to think that way about someone they love, right?”

“No, no, I get it. I sorta knew my ex wasn’t feeling the same way. I just told myself I was overthinking it. He never said anything until today.”

“He told you today that he didn’t love you anymore? Today of all the days?!”

“Yeah, came home from a half day at work to spend the afternoon with him, just to come home to him doing the classic “We need to talk” line.”

Bradley hummed slowly and shook his head. He ran a finger through his caramel toned waves and sighed, trying to think of what the right thing to say in response would be.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

Bradley silently opens the door to the coffee shop for you, once again gesturing for you to go first. You can’t help but admire the way everything he does seems like something out of a movie set in the 1950s - his mannerisms, the slight lilt to his voice, the way he holds doors open, offers you his arm, insists on walking on the outside of the sidewalk - all for a woman he’s only just met. It’s likely sympathetic actions towards you - feeling bad that you’re in a situation similar to his own, at least, that’s what you’re going to tell yourself.

“Pick your poison, I owe you one for the margaritas.”

“Nah, I’ll pick up this one. Like I said, it was set aside for a nice romantic Valentine’s dinner. I got it.”

“You know, under any other circumstances, this would have made for a cute date spot.”

“Margaritas and coffee?”

“I meant a nighttime stroll along the pier to a coffee shop, but now that you mention it, margaritas and coffee are one way to do it.”

“Hey, I mean, maybe this isn’t a date, I don’t think either of us are ready for that, but, it’s a nice first time hanging out.”

“Maybe the next time we hangout we can do it under less…distressing circumstances?”

“Maybe next time we hangout I can take you out for that nice dinner you and I both were expecting to have tonight,” Bradley shrugged as he sipped his coffee. “You know, as friends, or whatever.”

“You know what, I may take you up on that. You know, as friends…or whatever.”

Bradley slid his phone across the table to you, having opened it to the new contact screen. You quickly typed in your contact details, smiling fondly as you handed it back to him, along with your own phone.

“Next time you venture across the bridge, maybe text me? We can go for a coffee or something, or catch a ball game when the season starts.”

“I’d like that,” Bradley said with a satisfied smile as he sipped his drink.

“But this time, I’m buying.”

[knottyk]

It Can Wait

Pairing: Eddie x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Eddie spend a rainy morning together. Eddie is a silly goose who you can’t help but tolerate. 

Word Count: 1.1k

tags: extreme fluff, domestic mornings with eddie, established relationship, cuddles, kissing, sexual implications, a dot of smut (let me know if i missed anything)

Most mornings, you wake to Eddie’s empty side of the bed and sometimes, he’d wake up to yours. 

At night, you crash from exhaustion and he arrives with you already in deep slumber, just squeezing himself to whatever space he could take. 

With his late night gigs at the bar, early shifts at the shop and your whole day spent at work, you barely catch each other awake. 

But this morning is a wonderful exception. 

He grips your waist and pulls you closer, your face levelled with his neck. 

You snake your hand under his chin and rest it on his temple, arm resting on the length of his face, swirling your fingers where his hair meets his skin. 

You look like tangled ropes but you inhale his scent and enjoy his warm exhales. There’s a hint of beer and tobacco from the night before and an earthly undertone but you don’t mind. 

The blanket is splayed mostly on the floor now, your body heat mixed with his is enough to warm the room. Faint pitter patter of the rain against the window panes lull you lightheaded and your mind is free from the list of things pulling you awake. 

It feels like a dream. 

The mattress is cold in parts your skin haven’t touched and there is some relief when you extend your leg and swipe your arm at the expanse of the empty spaces. 

Your shirt rides up and his index and middle finger walk up like a tiny figure towards your exposed tummy where he rests his palm flat. The warm handprint on your lower belly spread and tingle on your skin while you stretch. 

“Can we just stay like this,” He grunts as he nestles his chin on top of your head, his shirtless figure smooth against your own. “Forever?” 

You chuckle and feel the rumble of his chest. 

“We’ve got mouths to feed.” You kiss the base of his neck and lay your hand on his chest, nails scratching at the little bumps on his skin and running them over his fuzz. 

“We’re the only mouths to feed. Besides, I can think of other ways to keep full.” He pulls away and looks at you, his chin doubling at the position of his face.

Catching the traces of mischief in his suggestive expression, you fake a pout, scrunch your brows and squint your eyes. He mirrors you and snatches a peck on your cheek.

One on the left, the right and then countless around your face until he has you bubbling in laughter. When your laughter dies down, he captures your lips in his in the most gentle manner. 

He’s like cotton or a soft feather pillow against your lips but you push him away and dig your chin towards your chest. He slightly perks up on his elbow and watches you with confusion. 

“Morning breath.” You manage to get out through tight lips. 

Then, Eddie laughs a deep, hearty laugh. He bellows with his head thrown back into the pillow and you wonder why. 

You watch as he calms before speaking again, brown eyes on you with a lingering smile. “I held you hair back at ungodly hours at night after your night outs and I’ve held your hand in the bathroom after that trip to the spicy ass Mexican restaurant.” 

You wince at the memory and he kisses your forehead. “Morning breaths won’t scare me away, promise.” 

And you giggle again while pushing his face away when he speaks in a breathy voice aimed at your nose, each word with an unnatural hiss. “Good. Morning. Sweet. Hhheart.” 

“Eddie!” You squeal and try to get away from him but he has you locked by the waist. 

You thrash against the pillows as his fingers dig at your sides, knocking over a frame on your bedside table. Eddie continues as you practically crawl out of his caged arms, still breathing exaggeratedly at your face. 

Growing tired, you cover your face to shield it from him but pries it open. You give up after a few tugs. He kisses you again and this time you don’t budge. 

He pecks the corner of your smily lips and nestles in the crook of you neck, kissing your jaw. 

The room falls silent, save for the soft, steady breathing and the raindrops on the roof. You almost drift back to sleep if not for the shrill ringing of your alarm clock. 

Eddie hugs you tighter. “Don’t go.” He mumbles, his leg trapping yours underneath. 

“If only I could.” 

Eddie stays in his position and dramatically sighs when you pry his arms away. 

You get up and take off your shirt to put on a bra. For a moment, he watches you shamelessly and consciousness creeps up on you so you turn your back towards him. 

With a chuckle, he pushes himself off the bed and goes behind you. You gasp as he cups your breasts in his hands. 

“We can just go around town like this. I can be your bra.” He stops for a second. “Now I’m really a supportive partner. Y’know since I’m supporting yo-“

You cut him off with an attempt at firmness in your voice. “Eddie, no.” But you fail at containing yourself. 

He nudges your legs with his knee to make you start walking and you laugh, head falling on his shoulders as you step wonkily with his guide. 

“Beep boop. Beep boop.” He marches with a fake and deep robot voice. “See, like a well-oiled machine.” 

He stops in front of the floor length mirror and just stares at you with a love sick smile. You sigh contentedly as you close your eyes, head still on his shoulder. He kisses your exposed neck, hands still supporting your breasts. 

Mornings like this held a special place in your mind, reserved for days when you don’t feel like yourself. When the weight of the world is pressing down on you and leaving tomorrow tainted with no hope. Simple moments like these with Eddie were easy and make life worth living for.

You bask in the moment of peace before opening your eye sharply when his innocent grasp crept up to your hardened buds and slowly caught it in between his fingers. 

With one eye open, you see him already waiting for your reaction with a playful grin as he worked his index and thumb. 

“Eddie!” You swat his hands but hours later, your phone rings endlessly.  

You are tangled up in a jumble of limbs while catching your breath; chest pounding, head spinning and heart full of love. 

The rest of the world can wait.

a/n: this must be the sweetest and most teeth rotting fluff I’ve ever written in my entire literate existence. I hope you like it :)) (oh, and my first time writing in present tense, yes it’s an achievement.) I’m currently experiencing this head-splitting headache and achy muscles so i wish i can cuddle with eddie but alas, we can’t have it all. this is all the world can give me and i cannot complain.

masterlist

[insomniumstella]

unfinished business (2) | bucky x avenger!reader

summary: Steve’s silly joke happened to inspire the best, or possibly the worst, idea Wanda had ever come up with — send James Buchanan Barnes and y/n on an all-expenses-paid honeymoon in Hawaii. the problem? they cannot stand to be around each other.

warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, explicit language, alcohol consumption, sarcastic!bucky

word count: 3,230

taglist is down below (please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list!)

WHERE DREAMS GO TO DIE masterlist

series’ SPOTIFY playlist

A brooding figure loomed over the table, and, judging by the sharp scent of woody cologne, it was not the waiter.

The sun had disappeared from the broad horizon, leaving the restaurant basking in the soft glow of lanterns and candlelight. Dreamy jazz sounds saturated the space, which was simultaneously open and closed. Despite the lousy name, Toro Toro was a spectacular overwater establishment — a long wooden dock led to an intimate setting with limited tables and a narrow but elegant bar. It was situated only a short walk away from the common areas of the hotel, possessing the pleasure of undisturbed peace as the restaurant imposed a strict adults-only policy.

“The menu’s full of oysters, caviar, shrimp with garlic butter?” Her sentence warped into a question as she read through the entrees before glancing at James through the top of the menu. “Delicious, but might be dangerous for a man pushing a hundred and ten.”

“A hundred and seven.” James scanned y/n’s exposed chest, eyes raking over the silk dress and Louboutin heels.

The man wouldn’t describe the attire as a pleasant change, that he’d die before admitting, but it was a change. The black satin shirt Steve had convinced him to pack matched the color of her clothing, and they, to anyone who knew any better, horrifically resembled a couple. A massive diamond ring rested on y/n’s fourth finger from when Tony had gifted it to her for Christmas, solidifying her as Bucky’s pretend wife. 

The table bore two bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon, one empty and the other on its way there. She must’ve been sitting at the table alone for the last half hour, nibbling at bread and cheese without ordering. If James knew y/n, and in some of the worst ways he did, he’d guess she had established a sob story of a fourth wedding anniversary and a missing husband.

He’d be right.

“I’ve heard oysters are an aphrodisiac, so that’s a no,” she placed the menu down, staring at James as he sat down, “why are you here?” 

It was the burning question of the hour. Why did James Buchanan Barnes decide upon a dinner with her? 

“I was in desperate need of an evening with you, and it is our wedding anniversary,” he nodded at the waiter, who approached the table to bring more bread, “also, I was hungry, and nothing at the buffet seemed appetizing.”

To say that nothing at the buffet seemed remotely delicious would be an understatement. The Shack was holding a Mexican night, and as much as James had fallen in love with nachos over the years sharp salsas he couldn’t yet stomach. Mexican dishes had consistently been more of a punishment than a pleasure for the soldier. A rendezvous with y/n could never compare to his intolerance for spicy foods. Besides, James had no desire for mediocre pizza at the 24/7 lounge.

She cocked her head to the side, amused. “Jordan!” The woman called after the boy. “Could you bring us champagne? Oh, and more butter, please.” She flashed him an innocent smile, gazing at him through hooded eyes.

Besides the hostess, Jordan the waiter was the first to greet y/n at Toro Toro. He had been as flirtatious as he had been awkward, but he was also great at conversation, even sitting down with y/n when she had, less than honestly, admitted that her husband would not be joining her. He had brought her an off-menu appetizer, inviting y/n to a staff party later that week as condolence.

“I see you made a friend.” James spread a generous amount of butter on a piece of bread. 

“I did! He’s a Maui local and works at the resort for good tips, hot chicks, and free booze.” The explanation earned a baffled look from James. “Jordan’s words, not mine.” She graced his empty glass with the leftover cabernet and shook her head in disbelief. “I cannot believe I had to sit through exhausting monologues of villains on vacations and catch me if you can, but please don’t for nothing.” James couldn’t figure out the latter reference.

“Did it excite you?”

“Yes.” She poured herself a glass of champagne when Jordan placed an opened bottle and hurriedly disappeared. “All that foreplay, and you still showed up.”

James grinned crookedly, staring into her eyes — for a split second, his walls crumbled, allowing her to witness an honest man who was truly amused by her joke. Except it was over before she could say anything, and James averted his gaze, picking up the menu. She is not funny. 

“Oysters are the last thing I’d imagine to an aphrodisiac,” he commented, eyes locked on the piece of paper resting in his hands. 

“Giacomo Casanova reportedly ate heaps of them for breakfast,” she drained half her glass, “learned it at Pepper’s fun fact Friday,” she explained, referring to Pepper’s infatuation with acquiring seemingly the most peculiar of information. 

Her own remembrance of bizarre knowledge had never come in handy until the conversation, yet, she had been grateful to have learned about seahorses, the purpose of eyebrows, and, in Pepper’s words, “dangerous wax coating on supermarket apples”. 

The left corner of his mouth curled up into a meager smile, “he must’ve been real horny then.” 

“He must’ve been,” she agreed. 

An unusually amicable silence settled between the pair as she bit her tongue on a cobra’s blood would be a much more unsettling aphrodisiac addition, keeping it to herself rather than continuing a conversation of sexual matters with him. James had presumably picked out an entree, messing with the silverware until a certain man caught his eye. He shuffled in the seat, refilling both of their glasses, and leaned in closer than she would ever want him to, especially during dinner, for she had not yet lost her appetite. 

“Remember Elijah Williamson,” he stared at someone behind the woman, “a corrupted politician the FBI asked us to help incarcerate?”

“Yes,” she narrowed her eyes, attempting to read Bucky’s expression, “he was accused of working with HYDRA on a similar project as they did in 2014.”

“And we both knew that HYDRA continued to work in silence and that he was guilty, even though the court deemed Elijah innocent?”

“Yes.” The tone of her voice was beginning to bear hints of annoyance again, the relatively lighthearted atmosphere shattering. 

The FBI and Avengers often bumped heads, given their lines of work, so it had come as a surprise when the government’s agents had reached a dead end and showed up at the compound for help. She could remember the day as if it had happened yesterday — the smug grin she had on throughout the first meeting and the sour taste when Steve had paired the two.

“We need someone with extensive knowledge of HYDRA and someone who could go undercover,” he had said then, “please put your differences aside. This is important.”

Steve had been wrong about the woman. She had not been needed for undercover work.

Nonetheless, by the time Natasha had offered to step in and take over, James and y/n were in too deep. Too deep into Elijah Williamson’s personal and professional lives. The case had consumed them, and at times, they’d almost stumble on the missing piece of the puzzle before the court had deemed him innocent, and they had been forced to step away empty-handed. Somedays, she strangely missed the countless cups of coffee, the sleepless nights, and the eerily peaceful conversations the two had shared for eight solid months.

“Do you still think he’s guilty?”

“The government asked us to not intervene any further after the trial was over.”

“Yes, but that is not the answer to the question I asked.” James returned his stare to her face. It was firm and heavy, and as he searched for something in her eyes, a glimmer of trust perhaps, she hunched in the chair. “Do you?”

She was in thought for a second. “We had very few leads, James.” None were of significance either. “Elijah donates to charities all the time, he helps kids in the foster system, hell, he does too much good to believe he’d want to wipe out half the population.”

“That’s what he wants everyone to assume.”

“I would love to entertain the idea of Elijah Williamson being guilty, but the man, as it stands, is innocent in the eyes of prosecutors.”

James leaned back in his seat. “Do you trust me?” His sudden change of tone took her by surprise.

“I could envision trusting you on the field if my life depended on it, but I’d be reluctant to ask for a coffee.” Reluctant was a restrained statement. 

“Good girl.”

“What?” She asked, face drained of emotions before she burst out laughing. Heaven help me, James has a praise kink, she giggled once more, he’s so getting blackmailed when we get back. 

“It slipped out on accident.” Pink hues crept onto his cheeks before his expression hardened. “Don’t turn around, but Elijah’s here, and he’s been staring at me ever since Jared brought the champagne.”

The woman must’ve developed an instinct to do the opposite of what James would instruct her because she peeked over her shoulder, locking eyes with the politician.

“The waiter’s name is Jordan.” She spoke, ignoring Bucky’s disappointed expression when their eyes met. “I suppose this action did not earn me a second good girl?”

“It did not.” He smoothed the invisible wrinkles on his satin shirt. “Please behave. Elijah is making his way towards us.” His words were less than a whisper.

She had seen Elijah at the trial, sneaking glances from the very far back to avoid getting noticed, but she did not remember him being … attractive? The man who loomed over their table had a full head of luscious, gray locks, and though he had just turned 68, he did not look a day over 50, with sun-kissed features and round eyes.

“Sergeant Barnes, it’s a surprise to see you in Maui.”

James rose to shake his outstretched hand. “I have to agree. I’d never peg you as The Maui Resort kind of man.”

“My wife and I met here, what,” he paused, “thirty years ago? We return each August for our anniversary.” He chuckled, turning his focus towards y/n. “Who’s this beautiful lady?”

“Thank you.” She offered him a smile, leaping up from the chair. “I’m Amelie, James’s wife.” She outstretched her hand, which he shook without hesitancy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

It pained James physically to abstain from an eye roll. 

“Elijah.” He introduced himself and glanced behind the pair, studying the table. “Champagne is always a sign of celebration.” Though it was not formulated as a question, his tone had notes of curiosity in it.

“Yes!” James confirmed as if breaking free from a trance. “Honeymooners,” he gestured between himself and y/n, “we’re honeymooning.”

Elijah took a second to speak, staring at the soldier in amusement, and y/n stepped in before James had a chance to deliver additional, and most likely ludicrous, lines. “Would you mind joining us for dinner?”

The politician was great at masking, but she was a spy, trained by the Natasha Romanoff to pick up every, and any, clue. “Everyone has a tell,” the redhead had observed, “learn to notice the smallest of reactions.”

It was a slight raise of his left eyebrow that had revealed his interest in the personal life of James Buchanan Barnes. His interest in James’s wife, in her.

“We’d hate to interrupt.” He spoke, and there it was again, the subconscious raise of his eyebrow.

“Please,” she smiled, softly placing a hand on Bucky’s bicep, “I’d love to hear about your program for troubled teens in foster systems.”

The soldier beside her realized y/n’s play, “we haven’t even ordered, yet,” he encouraged.

They had been asked to abandon the case, but a dinner with Elijah Williamson was the closest lead they’d ever get. The eight months they had spent working on the case had strangely been the most peaceful months he had ever spent at the compound. A snarky remark would slip past his or y/n’s lips in a while, but they had managed to act cordial. He burned with a desire to demolish HYDRA and anything that was left of it, and she had taken the hint, letting James lead the way. It had been the first time he had seen y/n for who she truly was — a great spy and agent, but she’d never know for he’d never tell her. The pair had built a balance between respect and hatred, and compliments had no place in their complex relationship.

She had always known James was a deadly assassin and an excellent spy, but she had never accounted James as a persuasive liar. By the time dessert came, Bucky had fabricated intricate stories of their wedding, life after retirement, and a random fake cat named Alpine. According to him, it had magnificent white fur and was adopted. He had lazily draped the metal arm across her chair’s backrest a while ago, and she could almost forget the motive behind the dinner. Bucky’s stories had painted him as a cool, loving husband, who had been eager for a honeymoon ever since the two got falsely married. That he hadn’t mentioned.

The tone of his voice remained charming throughout the night, and y/n silently reminded herself this dinner wasn’t a pleasure for Bucky or for herself, but simply a means to an end.

“James, do not take this the wrong way, but Amelie is wonderful.” Nancy, Elijah’s wife, spoke. “Very few people would be willing to forgive, and pardon me for the harsh phrasing, the Winter Soldier’s bloody past.”

James tensed at the words, maintaining his faux grin. “She is.”

Perhaps under different circumstances, she could see herself appreciating Nancy. The woman operated multiple charities, was a human rights lawyer, and a socialite. She oozed elegance, her graying blonde locks, pulled into a tight bun, perfectly complemented her auburn orange gown. She appeared to be out of touch with reality at times, but she was somewhat friendly and welcoming. Definitely, a great listener, and though being a great listener did not exclude someone from committing crimes, y/n had a hard time comprehending that this graceful woman could do as much as lift a finger to a small animal. Nancy couldn’t want half the population wiped out, could she?

“It was harsh,” she came to Bucky’s defense, “but I understand how it could appear from the outside looking in,” her tone had an edge sharper than she intended it to. 

“Amelie’s a very forgiving person,” James shifted in his seat, removing his arm to refill everyone's wine glasses, “and she’s all mine.” The glimmer in his eyes when he turned to peek at her was a relieved thank you.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she broke their brief eye contact to look at Nancy, “has blood on his hands, but it is not a burden James should bare, for it was HYDRA’s fault.” She noticed as his hand slowly crept underneath the table, harshly squeezing her thigh; a warning that it’s too soon to bring it up. “If HYDRA existed to this day, I would destroy it myself for everything they’ve done to him.” Bucky's firm grasp had painted goosebumps on her exposed skin, yet she refrained from smacking his palm away, opting to furtively push it aside.

“She asks me to get rid of spiders.” He forced a chuckle, studying y/n, and removed his hand. “My wife is too terrified to kill them.”

“Oh, I believe Amelie. A woman would do anything for the man she loves.” Nancy nodded, causing the two to share a pithy look.

“Nancy’s right, James, your wife is a wonderful young woman,” he peered at him through the top of his glass, “and Amelie, thank you for having common sense.”

She analyzed Elijah's body language, noticing a second tell.

The politician would gently tap on his glass, middle and index fingers barely making contact with the object before he'd push it away to knit his hands together. It had only begun after bottles of champagne they had shared as a group. He was intoxicated and most likely wouldn’t shy away from speaking voluntarily.

“What do you mean?”

“Last year I was on a trial instigated by some FBI fools.” The politician leaned back in his seat. “They accused me of leading HYDRA, except HYDRA doesn’t manifestly exist."

She caught the word manifestly, holding onto it. If he had ended the sentence with "HYDRA doesn't exist, manifestly," she might've let it slip, but, and perhaps she was reading too much into it given his underhanded past, "HYDRA doesn't manifestly exist"?

“The FBI does more damage than good.” She spoke with faux reassurance. “I wouldn’t find it hard to believe those knuckleheads put a lovely man through unimaginable horrors.”

“Careful, Sergeant, I might have to steal her.” Elijah’s comment earned him a playful smack on the shoulder from Nancy. “Darling, it was a joke. Nancy Williamson is the only woman I’d ever need.” He placed a tender kiss on her temples before turning his attention to James.

“What is the secret?” He questioned, pretending to be amazed by their affection. “We might need it a couple years down the road.” A sly smile stretched across his features.

“Don’t say that!” Nancy hiccuped as she drained her glass. “You’re both so young and so in love.”

We are young, y/n thought, but hell would freeze over before we fell in love.

The woman placed a gentle hand on Nancy’s before she could refill her glass. “It’s probably best if we called it a night.” She spoke, pretending to care whether Nancy was drunk or sober. 

“I was skeptical of a dinner with the former Winter Soldier at first,” Elijah wrapped a hand around Nancy’s shoulders, pulling her into his embrace, “but it was great. I cannot believe you cook eggs with pesto, I must try that.”

“I do,” James nodded, unsure of what pesto was, only ever hearing about it from Tony, but supporting his lie nonetheless, “it’s a breakfast from heaven.”

Elijah laughed at his words, loud and carefree. “What are your plans for tomorrow?” He asked, glancing between them.

Her plan was to tan in an adults-only beach and drink her body weight in mediocre margaritas, as far away from James as she could possibly get, but an honest answer might not have gone down well.

“Surprisingly, we have not decided yet.”

“Great! Nancy and I are organizing a yacht party tomorrow, so put it on the list.”

James wasn’t a fan of yachts, parties, or spending time around y/n, but he was willing to sacrifice comfort if it meant a solid lead toward the demolition of HYDRA, “I cannot wait.” 

TAGS:

@legohe4rts @missvelvetsstuff @browneyedgirl22 @gr33nleo @thatrandomcatoverthere @fiftywhore1 @buggy14 @nt-multi-fandom @physically-im-fine @marygoddessofmischief @fuckthealarm

[sirenmoth]

Family Pack

Everyone x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Your partners help you through a emotional spot in your life

Spanish translations at the end, also half the characters are shown or mentioned by are implied to be there, this is cheesy af

CW: fluff, kinda hurt/comfort. abo dynamics, pregnancy, pregnancy hormones, polygamy, sexual themes, insecure reader

Previous || Next

You woke after what feels like an eternity later, pleasantly sore all over and satisfied, you turned over hoping to return to the very realistic dream you just had, but doing do brought to things to your attention. The first thing is that your nest is much bigger, now being able to fit much more people, the second is the lack of evidence aside from the love bites and bruises that are sprinkled all over your skin, as well as the claim marks on your neck and shoulders.

Thinking to yourself you just moved around too much in your sleep, stretching your limbs was proving difficult as none of them wanted to cooperate, deciding to sit up was what lead you to notice the bump in your stomach, also, prompted you to reallise the clothes you were wearing are not the right size and don’t smell right. Slowly bringing a hand up to the bump and gentaly pressing down, it was firm. What happanded way real. The events you thought you dream were real. Panic began to set in, did they leave? Did they knock you up and leave you alone? Did they even know?

Overwhelmed with thoughts you didn’t hear the door open nor the smell of food. “Cariño?” a soft, calm voice asks, whipping your head around to find the source, making direct eye contact with Rodolfo in the doorway, a tray of food in hand. Noticing something was wrong he quickly places the tray down, making his way over and crawing into the nest beside you. Looking over your body, assessing for any damages, sighing in relfie when he find nothing physically wrong. Rudy pulled you into his arms, allowing you to cling to him like a lifeline.

The sound of sobs and whimpers was muffed as you buried you face into the side of his neck as Rudy whispered sweet, comforting words into your ear. Carefully he pulled you away, placing a thumb and finger under your chin and turning you head towards him, “¿Qué pasa?” his words were like sugar as he waited for your response “I-I thought you all left me, that this was a dream, that you just got bored and left.” you meekly spoke out between sobs and hiccups, Rudy slowly runs his hand up and down your back, quietly humming as you started to down. “No, not at all mi amor, must have been scary waking up alone, hm?” he smiles “We just wanted to make sure you get enough rest” the younger Mexican explains, keeping his voice low in hopes of not startling you.

Moments pass as you calm down, still keeping a tight hold on your mate, the thoughts of him being nothing more then a dream still present in your mind. Rudy continues to rub small circles in between your shoulder blades “Have you eaten today, mi vida?” he asks, carefully picking up the almost forgotten tray of food he brought with him “Gaz made dinner tonight, thought it was best to let you relax” he smiled down at you, picking up the bowl of soup, “Can you eat something for me, por favor, necesitas comer algo.” he explains as he brough the contents in the bowl to your lips, opening your mouth too allow the meal down your throat. The two of you sat, repeating the process until the food was gone and everything has calmed down.

Rudy got up to take the tray away before you grabbed his arm, scared to let him go, “Where are the others?” you whimpered, not being near the others was making you lonely, scared that they did move on and Rudy didn’t want to hurt you. Looking up at the alpha in front of you as he looks down at you shrunken form, like he was weighing his options, nodding his head, Rudy moved the tray to one hand and extending you the other, helping you to your feet was proving difficullt with your swollen belly, the same with walking. Eventually you both made it to the rec room, the sudden scent of all your alphas calming you almost instantly. as you two entered the chatter in the room died out, all turning their heads to look at you.

Shrinking away behind Rodolfo, in hopes to hide your body as best as you could, feeling like coming here was a mistake. “What ye doin here, bonnie” Soap asks, confused to see you walking about, “Yer not suppo-””Ella estaba sola, la encontré llorando, sorprendida ninguno de ustedes lo sintió” Rudy quickly cut off the Scotsman, explaining to the others what’s going on. All men turned their eyes back to you, worry and concern filled each and every one of them, ashamed they didn’t notice. Price opens his arms, gesturing you to come sit, following his command, sitting between his legs, your back to his chest. The older of the three Brits presses a kiss to your temple “Sorry we didn’t notice something, dear” the others nodding in agreement or throwing in their own “sorry”’s, smiling at them you open your mouth to reassure them it was ok, only to be cut off but a gravel voice as Ghost beat you too it “Don’t. None of that “it’s ok” shit” he growled at you. Sinking into the embrace behind you, mindlessly fidgeting with Köing’s fingers while striking up a conversation with the rest of the group.

The rest of the afternoon was spent with you being wrapped in a figurative blanket of warmth, Gaz helped you back to the nest, collecting items of clothings and blankets along the way as an extra apology, each one of them apologised in their own way, some with cuddes and worshipping you, some by just simply allowing you to rest  in their office while they worked. One by one crawled into the bed, few complained about work and the files they had to fill out, others just curled up next to you and drifted off, but all subconsciously kept you in the middle as a small reminder of their love.

Spanish translations: Cariño - sweetheart ¿Qué pasa? - What's the matter? Mi vida - My life por favor, necesitas comer algo - please, you need to eat something Ella estaba sola, la encontré llorando, sorprendida ninguno de ustedes lo sintió - She was alone, I found her crying, surprised none of you felt it