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greensagephase · 1 year ago

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Nonviolent Communication - Part Six

Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader

Summary: A few weeks after your first mission with Miguel, he shows up at your apartment to show you something.

Word Count: 10,161 (Someone needs to take my laptop away from me. I promise this will be the longest part. I won't let it happen again.)

Warning: Soft Miguel; Sad Miguel; It made me wish for summer to end even more; Some readers may not recognize some food items mentioned but it's not too important for the plot, however, you can find a guide right here if you want to know what they look like; Slight mention of abuse

Music inspo while writing:

"Luna de Xelajú" - Gaby Moreno, Oscar Isaac (I love this song so much. The Gaby and Miguel edits with this song make me want to sob each time 🥹)

Part Six

The trees in your city slowly change colors as the weeks go by. The greenery of summer fades only for nature to offer its orange, yellow, and red hues on your morning patrols. The sun retreats into hiding sooner, while the moon and stars emerge earlier, lighting the early, chilly evenings. It’s finally autumn. Coffee and book shops play autumnal music in the background as quiet and intimate conversations take place in small, cozy corners. The sweet scent of cinnamon and coffee fills the air. People walk the streets wearing cozy and warm apparel, coffee in hands to provide warmth. When you walk on the busy sidewalks of your city to buy groceries, you see the lively colors of autumn behind condensed window displays. You take notice of the faux autumn leaves and twinkling lights. The sight of mums and pumpkins meets you here and there.

You begin to go out to bookshops more often. You spend time with your friends, both outside and during work. Your friendship with them grows stronger. They visit you in your universe as you start inviting them for dinner at your humble apartment. You slowly begin to talk about Peter with them, feeling easier to bring him up each time you do so.

Many weeks have gone by since your first mission with Miguel. It’s not the last one. You find yourself going on missions with Jess, one other person, and him once a week now. You are no longer surprised by it. It’s normal. One week he assigns you to the same side of the city he works on, the next one he doesn’t. It’s a pattern. Each time you work on the same side, he suggests that the two of you swing through the city when you’re both done scanning for anomaly matter.

It's part of the surveillance and learning plan he has implemented, of course. So, this makes perfect sense. Every other week, you find yourselves on the tallest building’s rooftop, overseeing the city. Sometimes you talk briefly. Sometimes Miguel tells you about anomalies that have been caught from that universe in the past, before your recruitment into the Spider Society. Before you knew of each other’s existence. Other times, it’s you who tells him about anomalies you have caught with other colleagues. You listen intently to each other’s words as a form of respect and trust.

You continue to organize Miguel’s lab. With the weekly assigned missions, your time organizing his lab, and the minutes before scheduled meetings that add up, you begin to spend roughly four hours around the founder and commander of the Spider Society each week. You continue to take coffee for meetings, arriving early as always. Miguel sometimes talks to you about the anomalies from the previous week before anyone else arrives, your conversation ceasing when other ears enter the room. Sometimes you take food to him when you arrive to organize the lab. Miguel is no longer surprised like he used to be about the coffee cups, or like the first time you took him empanadas weeks ago. He accepts the food, and thanks you.

Without fully realizing it, there’s a shift between the two of you. So subtle, like the changing leaves of trees in autumn.

It’s the first of November. You walk around your apartment with your fall playlist playing in the background as you do random chores even though it’s ten at night. You do laundry you needed to catch up on. You put away the little amount of Halloween decorations you have. You wash dishes and clean the kitchen. You fix the throw blanket on your couch. You dust your furniture. It’s all a bunch of random chores that you’ve been meaning to do but have been too busy to get done over the week due to missions, patrolling your city, and Halloween. A lot of petty crimes occur on the holiday because people think they can get away with it if they wear costumes.

You’re also hit with a random spur of energy, so you take advantage of it. You move quietly around your apartment, your music filling the space that would otherwise be silent. As you clean, you think about how different this year has been compared to the last three years. You especially think about this as the holidays are right around the corner now. For once in three years, you have plans for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years. Peter and Mary Jane are hosting Friendsgiving at their universe. Mr. and Mrs. Morales invited you and the rest of the group for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day to their building’s party and then again for New Years.

It's been so long since you even celebrated. You found no point since it was just you and you cut off your friends from your universe. You smile as you clean thinking how it will be different this year. You can’t help but stop and stare at one of Peter’s photos on the wall. He would be happy, you think.

You’re in your bedroom now, putting away random objects that have made other areas of the apartment their home for days when a multidimensional portal opens in your living room. You sense it. You walk out of your bedroom just as the floating objects in your living room fall back into place. The portal is fading now.

Miguel stands in the middle of your apartment. His eyes take in your living room, lightly decorated for the autumn season. He spots a few pumpkins and faux leaves on your bookshelf. He can smell the scent of autumn candles as the music plays softly in the background. He finally turns around, looking for you, it seems. His gaze falls on you, meeting your eyes.

“Miguel. Is everything alright?” you ask, as you stand just outside your bedroom.

Miguel looks around for a second at the fallen objects. He gives you an apologetic look before he speaks. “Everything is fine.”

You nod, unsure of what to say. It’s past eleven at night and your boss just showed up. Randomly. Or at least it seems so. You see Miguel’s eyes scan you briefly, probably noticing that you’re still in normal clothes and not pajamas despite how late it is. His eyes meet yours again as he briefly thinks about how this is officially the third time he has been to your apartment. You are officially the only colleague he has visited these many times in such a short amount of time. He doesn’t let himself think too much of it now.

“Are you busy right now?” he asks at last, quietly.

“I was just doing some chores so, no…” you say, unsure of where this is going. He said everything is fine. He is calm. That means there’s no threat to the multiverse. No need to change into your suit right away.

Miguel nods and sighs so quietly, you barely register it. “I would like - to show you something,” he says, still meeting your eyes.

You stand there for a second or two, processing what he just said before you nod slowly.

“Should I change into my suit?” you ask, still unsure of what’s going on, but Miguel shakes his head.

“No need to change.”

You nod. “Oh, okay. Then – I’m ready,” you say quietly, still standing just outside your bedroom.

Miguel nods before he clicks on his gizmo, opening a portal again. The portal opens. Its lights shine brightly around your apartment and objects begin to float again. You quickly grab your own gizmo, sliding it on before you approach him. He motions for you to enter first and as you do so, you briefly wonder if you should’ve grabbed a jacket as your sweater is on the lighter side. Your worry melts, however, as you step into Miguel’s lab, where it’s warm. You sense Miguel right behind you, so you step to the side. Your eyes scan the lab, trying to figure out what Miguel wants to show you, but you see nothing out of the ordinary. Then again, you don’t know what you’re looking for.

Miguel is standing next to you now as the portal’s colors and lights begin to fade away. You look over at Miguel and find him looking down at the floor as if thinking. You wonder then. What is he trying to show you? Whatever it is, it seems that he might be reconsidering.

“If you’re not comfortable showing me, it’s okay,” you say quietly, not wanting him to feel pressured to show you now but he lifts his gaze to yours and shakes his head softly.

“No – I want to show you,” he says quietly, and you nod.

Miguel nods back before he turns and starts walking deeper into his lab. You follow him, giving him some distance just in case he changes his mind. He walks to a side of the lab that’s not usually trafficked by people, behind his platform. Your curiosity grows with each second as you walk around it, a few feet behind Miguel. Your nose is slowly overwhelmed by a rich and sharp scent, but you can’t pinpoint what it is. Miguel looks behind his shoulder as he finally stops walking. You see it then, or part of it as Miguel’s body covers some of your vision because he’s a few feet in front of you.

“You can come closer,” Miguel says, sensing that you’re still too far away.

As your eyes take in what you can see in that moment, you immediately know where the scent is coming from when your eyes fall on marigold flowers.

An ofrenda, as Miguel had said weeks ago when you were celebrating Peter’s birthday. You suddenly remember. It’s the first of November. Dia de los Muertos. Your mind flashes back to that moment. You were cutting Miguel a second slice of cake, feeling embarrassed about the whole thing when he spoke.

“I also…” Miguel said, pausing. “I celebrate Dia de los Muertos, I don’t know if you -” he paused, and you nodded then, indicating you knew what he was talking about as you put the slice on his plate. “I make a small ofrenda for them.” You placed his plate in front of him, meeting his eyes. “So – it’s not – Don’t feel as if…” Miguel said, trailing off and you nodded.

He had shared that with you then, to make you feel less embarrassed. To assure you, you weren’t alone in remembering, celebrating, and honoring Peter even after his death.

Your eyes flicker to Miguel for a few seconds, his attention is back to the ofrenda. You step closer, keeping your eyes on him, as you do so. You stop, standing a few feet behind him still, not wanting to invade his space. Not wanting to invade his ofrenda, his act of remembrance, celebration, and honor for his loved ones.

Sensing your reluctance to walk closer, Miguel speaks in a hushed tone.

“Y/N… you may come closer,” he whispers.

You stand still for a few seconds and then walk closer, stopping next to him. Your eyes take in the ofrenda as you’re able to appreciate it more now that you’re closer to it. Miguel’s ofrenda is absolutely beautiful and you can see the effort he put into it as your eyes take it in.

The ofrenda is made of two levels, both are covered in a bright blue fabric. Sheets of tissue paper in lively colors were cut into intricate patterns and hung from the edges of both levels. You notice the second level holds four photographs, which are in physical, wooden frames. Despite the advanced universe of your boss, Miguel O’Hara still used physical, wooden picture frames for his ofrenda. For some reason, that makes you feel tenderness towards the man next to you. Your eyes move from each picture slowly. The first photo your eyes fall on show an older woman. You take in her appearance, noticing some of her features are familiar. Miguel’s face flashes in your mind. His mother, you realize, knowing nothing about her. No one knows anything about Miguel’s family. It isn’t something that Miguel ever talks about.

Your eyes move to the other end of the level, falling on the photograph of a young man. He was handsome with one of those cheeky, boyish smiles. You notice he looks on the younger side and you can’t help but wonder if Miguel once had a brother.

The two photos in the center show people you have seen before. Two individuals you know a little about.

Gabriella and Miguel’s wife. Your eyes fall on Gabriella, noticing that her photo was more centered on the ofrenda. You notice the decorations then. Small sugar skulls made of clay fill the gaps between each photograph. Marigold flowers serve as a pop of color behind the picture frames and clay sugar skulls. Lit candles light up the ofrenda on both levels. They flicker softly, creating a soft and intimate moment.

Your eyes fall to the lowest level. You still find marigold flowers, sugar skulls, and lit candles but there are other items in front of each photograph. You remember that on Dia de los Muertos, loved ones place food, drinks, and other objects that those who have passed away enjoyed in life. In front of his mother’s photograph, Miguel placed a plate with food, surrounded by fruit like apples and oranges. A glass bottle with an orange drink was placed next to it. When you move to the young man, who you are almost certain is Miguel’s brother, you spot tamales, a drink, and two pink pieces of bread in the shape of a seashell. Pan dulce. There are also these thin, bright yellow candy-sized packages next to his drink. Your eyes almost miss it but there’s a scarf looped around the plates with food. When you look back at the photograph, you notice the young man is wearing that very same scarf in his photo.

You move to Miguel’s wife. She, too, has a plate with food, different from the others. You cannot help but wonder… Did Miguel cook their favorite meals? Once again, tenderness washes over you as you imagine Miguel spending the day cooking and setting up his ofrenda. You finish looking at Miguel’s wife section, seeing some candy and a drink, too.

It's Gabriella’s section that really strikes you, making a bittersweet feeling rush through you as you scan her section. There are three plates of food. You don’t recognize the food in one of them but the other one you do. Pancakes with chocolate chips on top. Your mind flashes back to months ago, when you entered Miguel’s lab after he found out that Lyla had hidden a folder containing photos and videos of Gabriella and his wife. He had mentioned Gabriella loved his breakfasts, especially pancakes with chocolate chips, when he was telling you a little bit about her.

Your heart aches as you continue to stare at the pancakes. You swallow the knot that has begun to form in your throat. You tell yourself to calm down. You know Dia de los Muertos is not about grief. It’s about celebrating those who have passed away. Remembering and honoring them. A night for loved ones to visit and spend time with those who are still alive.

You sigh quietly as your eyes move. You spot more items in Gabriella’s section. There is quite a bit of candy, which makes you smile. You spot small, green and white, bottles with pointy red lids. There are small packs with bright pink tablets, which remind you of gum. Your eyes fall on two lollipops. They have a clown face printed on it, showing a chocolate covered marshmallow with gummies as a face. There’s more candy, like those thin bright yellow packs you saw on the young man’s side. Your eyes move to the last plate. Gabriella also has the same kind of pan dulce found on the young man’s plate: two pink seashell-like pieces of bread.

There are also drinks in Gabriella’s section. You find tiny see-through bottles, almost the height of your pointing finger with a beige liquid and red letters printed on the outside. There’s also a tall glass of what looks like chocolate milk, next to a short, blue container with an animated character printed on it. And finally, there’s a large mug of rice pudding sprinkled with cinnamon. Arroz con leche.

It doesn’t stop there, however. The bright blue fabric covers some of the floor and right there you find toys and other random objects. Your eyes immediately fall on a soccer ball, reminding you that Gabriella loved to play soccer and was part of the soccer team at her school. You smile as you keep your eyes on it for a few seconds. You spot children’s books on the side, noticing that some of them fall under the science genre.

You remember that Miguel shared with you that Gabriella loved science and enjoyed reading. There are other toys of course, like dolls and small animal figures. Your eyes fall on one item specifically though. A small acoustic guitar. You briefly wonder if little Gabriella liked to play the acoustic guitar but of course, you don’t ask about it.

Your eyes take in the ofrenda again, all of it now. Miguel did a beautiful job. You smile softly at the sight and the fact that Miguel went to your apartment tonight to show you his ofrenda. He’s honoring his loved ones in his own way, and he invited you to be a part of it. The same way you invited him to be a part of Peter’s birthday celebration.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel Miguel move. He slowly gets on his knees in front of the ofrenda, with a soft sigh before he rests his body over his heels. You notice he’s looking straight ahead at Gabriella’s photo. You slowly drop to your knees, too, and as you stare at Gabriella’s photo you speak, breaking the silence.

“It’s beautiful, Miguel,” you whisper softly in Miguel’s quiet lab.

“Thank you,” he whispers back, softly.

The two of you stare silently at the ofrenda. The candles’ wicks flicker softly, still casting soft shadows on the photographs. You think about Miguel’s loved ones. He has lost so many people even before Gabriella and his wife. You can’t help but wonder now, how lonely was Miguel that he inserted himself in another world?

You have never judged him and never will for this. However, you cannot help but feel heartache for him. He has lost so many people. Why did life take so much from this man? This man, who you have begun to know better with each passing day, who was soft, loving, kind, and caring on the inside? He didn’t show these traits much these days, but you have received his kindness before.

He showed you kindness the day he showed up at your apartment to check on you. It wasn’t Jess who sent him. He had shown up on his own. You still wonder about that. How he had asked you not to bring it up to Jess so he wasn’t caught in a lie. He didn’t want you to know he had done it because he wanted to or because his true, hidden traits had led him to do it. Ever since he lost Gabriella and his wife, he was distant and cold, unwilling to attach himself to anyone again. Except, his true self was still there, hidden under the surface of his coldness and unattachment.

He made appearances sometimes. Like that day at your apartment. Or the day he talked about Gabriella to you when you walked into his lab, not knowing he was having a bad day because of Lyla’s secret. Or on Peter’s birthday. And there were other moments you hadn’t been around for like the time he allowed Gwen Stacy into the Spider Society. Even though he didn’t want her to be a part of it because of her connection with Miles, Miguel allowed her recruitment because of the issue with her father and her Spider-Woman identity.

That version of Miguel made his appearance today. Miguel O’Hara spent his entire day working on his ofrenda for his loved ones. He cooked. He cut the tissue paper. He printed out the photos and placed them in picture frames despite being able to simply display them with screens. He picked out the marigold flowers. He bought drinks, candy, and toys. He put together his ofrenda.

As the two of you kneel before it, there’s a shared understanding between the two of you. There’s comfort. Vulnerability. Trust. A bond between the two of you that has been forming over the last months strengthens.

You sigh softly as your eyes land on the soccer ball again. Miguel turns slowly to you, looking down to see your face. He sees you looking at the soccer ball.

“She loved playing soccer, so I bought her one,” Miguel mutters quietly, and you nod.

“I remember. She played in the soccer team,” you say softly.

Miguel nods, feeling a warm sensation wash over his chest as you mention that fact. It has been many weeks now since he shared that with you. And you remembered.

“I think – she must be very happy to see her favorite breakfast,” you add, looking up at Miguel.

He looks down at you. You remembered that, too. Miguel nods before turning away slowly. He has never shared much about his life with others. Not with Jess or Peter, who were already a part of his life back then. They knew some parts of his life of course but he had never gone into much detail. It had been too painful. It was easier to keep it all to himself, put away at the back of his mind while he exhausted himself with work to keep his emotions at bay.

You are the first one he has shared some of those days with. Miguel can’t help but think about the first day he met you. Jess introduced you and of course, he had thought you were the opposite of him. You seemed so happy and alive despite having lost someone. He had been so wrong about you. You carried your own grief and loss but hid it so well.

Either way, had someone told him that he was going to be opening to you in so many ways back then, he would’ve laughed. He wouldn’t have believed it, but it was true. He has opened up to you. And you remember. You listened to him. You didn’t ask questions. You understood.

Miguel sighs softly, looking at the photographs. You knew of his wife and sweet Gabriella of course but not of his mother or Gabriel. Little Gabrielito. Miguel shakes his head softly at his brother’s photograph, thinking how he left too soon.

Miguel clears his throat, turning slightly to you now. This catches your attention, so you turn to face him.

“The young man – that’s my brother. Gabriel, or as I called him, Gabrielito. He passed away a few years ago,” Miguel shares.

You offer Miguel a sad smile, not speaking. Not wanting to discourage Miguel from sharing.

“He was my little brother,” Miguel says. “He was such – a pain on the butt sometimes but he always meant well. He was always cheery. Kind.”

You nod, wanting to say that you could tell just by the cheeky smile on Gabriel’s face. Miguel notices that you seem reluctant to speak. He thinks about how respectful you always are. Again, you never ask questions. You never overstep his boundary lines. And hell, his respect for you grows in that moment even more. You are a good person. You are kind. Miguel fails to notice it, but his heart beats a bit faster. You are the closest he has to a friend these days even though he doesn’t fully realize it. You are the only person he was willing to share this moment with because you allowed him to be a part of Peter’s birthday celebration. He wanted to reciprocate the gesture.

And, as he stares down at your face, he realizes that he wants to hear your thoughts. He wants to know what you think. He wants you to ask questions because he feels comfortable with you. The firm boundary line he has established and maintained for so long, crumbles in that moment for you.

“You can talk, you know,” Miguel says softly, prompting you to offer him an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t want to intrude or overstep. I know how delicate and personal these moments are,” you respond truthfully. “Thank you for letting me in on your celebration,” you whisper, and Miguel detects the sincerity in your tone.

He nods. “You made me a part of Peter’s birthday celebration … I wanted you to be a part of mine,” he answers softly.

You nod once again, giving him a brighter smile. “Thank you,” you whisper, meaning it.

Not everyone understood of course but you understood each other. With his words coming back to you, about being able to talk, you sigh softly before you speak.

“Your brother – I can tell he was cheerful with that cheeky smile,” you say, turning to Gabriel’s photo.

Miguel’s eyes fall on his brother’s smile. It was indeed cheeky.

“Since a kid,” Miguel shares. “He always had that smile. It never changed throughout his life. There were always at least two girls who had crushes on him when we were kids because of it,” he says fondly, his mind going back to days that were long gone when Gabriel and he were still in school.

You chuckle lowly. “I can imagine it got him into some trouble with the girls,” you say, smiling, unable to stop yourself from also thinking of younger Miguel. You wonder what he was like when he was a teenager. You wonder if he also had girls crushing after him, and you are immediately confident he did. If Gabriel had the girls crushing, there was no doubt Miguel definitely did, too. You have never thought of Miguel in that way but even though you have never thought of him like that, it doesn’t mean you are blind. Miguel is an attractive man to say the least. People, mostly women but even some of the men in the Spider Society, talk about it sometimes. Even if you hadn’t noticed it yourself, you are sure you would’ve at one point with the questionable conversations you overheard sometimes in passing when colleagues thought they were being discreet, except they weren’t.

“Believe me, it did. I once had to come to his rescue because this girl’s boyfriend thought he was flirting with her,” Miguel says, shaking his head, missing his brother. “But he wasn’t like that. He was a good person. A good man.”

Miguel thought of Gabriel when he allowed himself to think about the past. He loved his brother even when there were tensions between them.

“He was the better brother,” Miguel mutters. “He was kind. Unselfish.”

You can’t help but get hung up on the word “unselfish.” Did Miguel think he was selfish?

When he thought about Gabriel, Miguel couldn’t help but wonder what his little brother would have said about what he did. He was so selfless and compassionate. If there is a Heaven, Miguel fears that Gabriel must have disagreed with his decision. With what he did in Gabriella’s universe.

You sense a slight shift in Miguel’s mood, even when your mind is still stuck on the indication that Miguel feels like he was the selfish brother of the two. You feel the urge to keep the mood light. You don’t want to see Miguel sad or upset, so you speak up.

“He sounds like a wonderful person. I think I would’ve liked him a lot,” you start, looking at Gabriel’s photo before looking down at the yellow candy packs. “I see he and Gabriella liked the same candy,” you add softly, hoping to lighten his mood again.

Miguel, staring at his brother’s photo, briefly thinks about what you said, and he agrees. In fact, Miguel can’t help but think that Gabriel would have befriended you was he still alive. You were both warm and happy people. Unselfish, he thought again.

“Gabriel would have liked you,” Miguel says, knowing this is true. “I think you two would have been great friends,” he says pausing for a few seconds. “And yes – they’re called Pulparindos. It’s made from the pulp of tamarind fruit. Gabriel loved them. I swear he ate like four a day. He always had some with him,” Miguel says with an amused tone but there’s no smile on his face. “Imagine my surprise when I found out Gabriella also loved them,” he adds fondly.

You nod, that’s why both Gabriel and Gabriella had the same kind of candy then. You also feel somewhat pleased with the fact that Miguel thinks his brother would’ve liked you.

“We would go to the store, and she always made a beeline for the candy aisle. I could never say no to her,” Miguel says, his voice still laced with that fondness as he thinks of the times they went to get groceries. “We made an agreement. She could have one piece of candy each day but no more. She always respected the deal.”

You stare at Gabriella’s photograph. She’s in the frame alone, smiling at the camera. Again, there’s that toothy smile you remember from weeks ago. Your heart aches for her. For Gabriel. For Miguel’s wife.

For Miguel… who didn’t have the luxury of visiting all his loved ones at the cemetery, you suddenly realize as the two of you remain kneeling on the floor. Miguel couldn’t visit his wife or Gabriella. There were no bodies to be buried. No funerals.

Your sudden realization cuts deep into your soul. You cannot imagine what you would do if you were in his shoes. If you didn’t have at least that small comfort of knowing that Peter rested somewhere in peace. Or the comfort of being able to visit him whenever you wanted or needed to. Or the comfort of talking to him, even when you know your stories are heard by silence.

Miguel had none of that when it came to Gabriella and his wife. Your heart feels heavy with pain for Miguel. You have never thought of this and to be honest, no one else has either. Miguel was expected to move on eventually but how could someone move on when they didn’t even have the chance to mourn properly? How could anyone move on when they didn’t have a place to visit their loved ones?

It has been those small things that you have taken for granted that have helped you during your mourning period. Those comforts that mostly everyone who loses a loved one has but for Miguel… it’s not true. He doesn’t have any of those comforts.

You feel the sudden urge, for the second time in months, to reach out for Miguel. You want to comfort him. You want to hold him in your arms and tell him how sorry you are that this has happened to him. That you are sorry that he has lost so many loved ones. That he lost his wife and Gabriella, his loving family.

You want to tell him that he deserves so much more. That he deserves a family and happiness. And that he’s not selfish for wanting these things. You want to hold Miguel, and take away his grief, sadness, guilt, and any other negative emotion he still carries with him.

You just want to comfort Miguel.

Your hand, which has been resting on your lap, rises slowly, involuntarily, in Miguel’s direction. You freeze for about two seconds, realizing what you are about to do. You bring your hand back to your lap discreetly, or at least you hope it was discreetly.

You cannot comfort Miguel in the way that you usually comfort people because he doesn’t do physical touch. No matter how badly you want to rest your hand over his and let the gesture speak for itself, you know you can’t. Or rather, shouldn’t. You don’t dare break his boundary line as you return your attention to Gabriella’s photo.

Beside you, Miguel also stares at his daughter’s photo. His mind has paused the memories and instead, is overtaken by the fact that you were reaching for him just seconds ago. He didn’t fail to see the way you stopped yourself. He senses it’s not because of impropriety or even changing your mind about it but for another reason.

As Miguel stares at Gabriella’s photo, he wonders how you know. Perhaps it was Jess, he realizes. Perhaps she mentioned that he cannot do physical touch these days. And you, as always, respected his space. He silently appreciates your respect and the fact that you wanted to comfort him. He sighs softly. It’s been so long since he has been comforted by someone physically.

The last time he felt another person’s skin was… with you, he realizes, remembering the day he checked up on you. That day, for once, he allowed his hand to be bare so he could feel your face, to check if you were running a fever. That was the first time he had felt another person’s skin in a really long time, and there hadn’t been any other instances since then. He remembers how natural it had felt to press his hand to your forehead regardless.

Miguel’s thoughts are interrupted when he hears your stomach grumble, making him turn to you. He narrows his eyes slightly as you slowly look at him.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

You shake your head, embarrassed, thinking about how you had an early dinner and that was hours ago. “No. I ate something a few hours ago. It was just my stomach being – weird,” you say softly and Miguel stares down at you, knowing you’re lying.

Before you know it, he gets up with ease. “Hold on,” he says walking away and around his platform.

You wait there, not knowing where he’s going on, or what he’s doing. It’s a few minutes later that Miguel returns. You hear his footsteps and turn around to find Miguel carrying two cups and two plastic bags hanging from his right wrist. Noticing your furrowed brows at the sight, Miguel walks over to you and hands you one of the cups.

You immediately feel the warmth of the drink before the scent of coffee fills your nostrils when you take the cup from his hand. You look up at Miguel, with curious eyes but he doesn’t say anything as he kneels next to you again, this time much closer than before, you notice. Miguel places his own cup to the side before he pulls the plastic bags off his wrist.

“I only made enough of the food for them…” Miguel says, pausing and nodding at the plates with food. “But I did get extra of this,” he says, opening one of the bags and showing you.

You catch a glimpse of pan dulce, which you have tried before. You meet his eyes again as he moves the bag closer to you. He motions for you to get some.

“I know you’re hungry,” he says quietly, meeting your eyes. “Please.”

You feel reluctant but then again, the pan dulce looks too appetizing to say no to. You nod slowly and reach into the bag, grabbing a pink, round seashell like piece of pan dulce.

“Those are called conchas,” Miguel says as he sees what you chose. He turns to the ofrenda. “Gabriel and Gabriella loved those. Especially the pink ones.”

You turn to the ofrenda, returning your attention to the pink conchas you noticed earlier on Gabriel and Gabriella’s sections.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, holding the cup of coffee and pan dulce, feeling embarrassed. You wonder if this is how Miguel felt the first couple of times you took him coffee and then in the last couple of weeks food.

Miguel’s head turns to the side to look at you. “You’re welcome,” he says softly before he, too, grabs a concha.

He looks away from you as he breaks a piece of the pan dulce to make you feel comfortable. He knows you were lying to hide the embarrassment of your hunger, so he turns away to give you space. He brings a small piece of the concha to his mouth, the pan dulce reminding him of his childhood when his mother made hot chocolate for Gabriel and him. Miguel remembers how Gabriel and him always looked forward to autumn and winter because the food was better. They got hot chocolate with pan dulce; tamales of all kinds, including his favorite ones, which were the sweet ones back then because he loved the sweetness of them and the fact that his mother added food coloring to make them colorful; they also got buñuelos, and pozole amongst other delicious foods.

Miguel brings the piece of pan dulce to his mouth as he thinks of the past, of his childhood. He didn’t think too often about it but when he did, he tried to only think of the memories that included Gabriel. He didn’t like to think of other memories that included the man he once thought was his father. The same man whose last name Miguel still holds to this day. Other memories included his mother as well. Some were from the early days of his life and then from her last years when they had grown closer once there were no more secrets and lies between them.

It was just his mother and Gabriel. Neither his stepfather nor biological father were thought of. Nor were they on his ofrenda. He couldn’t bring himself to add them to the ofrenda that was for those he loved and cherished dearly. Those he missed.

“That was my mother,” Miguel suddenly says once he finishes eating the small piece of concha, remembering he hasn’t talked about her. “Her name was… Conchata.”

You finish chewing the small piece of bread you, too, broke off. You nod. “She was beautiful,” you say as you turn your attention to her photograph. You can see Miguel got a lot of her features, as did Gabriel. You don’t say anything about the fact that there’s no sign of his father, not knowing Miguel had a stepfather as well.

“She was… We didn’t have the best relationship for some time, but things changed in her last years. It was often a problem between Gabriel and I in those years. He always tried to remain neutral. I, on the other hand…” Miguel trails off, thinking of the past. “I distanced myself from her for some time until we resolved our issues.”

You frown a little. Is this why he thought Gabriel was better? Because Gabriel remained neutral in whatever problems Miguel and Conchata had? Despite Miguel indicating that he isn’t as good as Gabriel, even saying he distanced himself from his mother in a negative tone, you can’t bring yourself to think of him any less. You have no right to begin with. You don’t know what happened between them. There’s so much that you still don’t know about Miguel. So much he might never reveal. Either way, you don’t care.

“We all have our reasons for what we do,” you finally say, thinking this was the best neutral thing to say. “You had your reasons for distancing yourself.”

Miguel nods, appreciating your response. “I did,” he says simply, thinking about those reasons. Thinking about the abuse from his stepfather that his mother allowed. About the manipulation. The lies.

He has never shared his past with anyone. The only person that knew of it has passed away, taking those memories with him to the grave. Gabriel. Miguel doesn’t know if he will ever share that. He put it in the past for the most part.

However, he couldn’t help but feel that if he ever shared his past… it would be with you but not tonight. At least not all of it.

Miguel clears his throat. “I had a stepfather and of course, a biological father but I wasn’t close to either of them. They have both passed away, too.”

You notice a slight change of tone. It’s laced with resentment. You put your cup of coffee down.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” you say gently. “Tonight, is for them, right?” you ask softly, motioning to the ofrenda.

Miguel nods. “Yes, but I know the other members talk. About my past. About my family.”

You nod slowly, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. That’s how you found out about what happened in Gabriella’s universe and what happened with Miles. It turns out that despite being superheroes and being part of a professional superhero society, its members were not immune to gossip.

“I didn’t have a good relationship with either of them. That’s why they’re not on the ofrenda,” Miguel continues, feeling like he wanted to get it out of his chest for once.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you reply, and Miguel nods.

“It’s in the past now. I just wanted to say it – since my mother is on it. And again, I know people talk.”

You nod, feeling sad that Miguel feels the need to share his past life. “Please know that you never have to explain yourself. It’s your life, and you don’t owe anyone an explanation,” you say, surprising yourself with your words and tone but you hope you make your point clear. He shouldn’t feel pressured to share anything just to satisfy people’s curiosity. “But thank you – for trusting me enough to share that with me,” you add, softly again.

Miguel feels stunned by your words, especially your change of tone. It almost felt like you were scolding him. He can’t help but feel comforted while also amused by it. He feels his lips curl upward as he looks down at you. You notice it, of course. The slight curling of his lips. Did you almost make Miguel smile?

You can’t help but stare at his mouth. You have seen his smile in a photograph before and it was… beautiful. You remember the spark in his eyes as he smiled. His smile was such a sight it made you wonder what it would be like to see it in person. You can’t help but feel selfish at this moment. You want – need – to see Miguel O’Hara smile.

You want to see him happy because he deserves it.

You meet his eyes and offer him a small smile, feeling happy that you almost made him smile but Miguel surprises you. Miguel, for once,returns a genuine, small smile.

Miguel O’Hara, founder and commander of the Spider Society, your boss, is smiling at you.

You feel like your breath has caught in your throat suddenly. Miguel is smiling at you. It’s a small one but it’s a smile. You stare at it and meet his eyes. The moment feels much longer than it lasts but in a good way. You abruptly look down at your piece of pan dulce, feeling like you are overwhelmed by the sight of Miguel’s smile. You can’t comprehend your emotions, so you take a piece of pan dulce and change the subject.

“This is really good. Thank you,” you tell him, looking up at him again.

The smile is gone but there’s still a hint of it on his face as he looks down at his own piece of pan dulce. His mood is lighter, indicating that the resentment you detected earlier about his fathers is gone. You realize he found your sudden change of tone, which you now realize may have come off as scolding, amusing and you don’t mind it.

“Glad you liked it,” he says with a tone you can’t pinpoint right now as his smile is still flashing in your mind. “And thank you. For your words,” Miguel adds, meaning it.

You nod at him and take another bite of your concha, thinking. You are never going to forget this night.

The two of you continue to kneel on the floor but it feels like your distance has decreased somehow. You can feel his body warmth much closer as you eat pan dulce and hot coffee. The lab is silent and mostly dark around the two of you, but you find yourselves in a peaceful and comforting silence as the scent of marigold flowers and coffee fills your nostrils. The soft flickering of the candles on the ofrenda creates a warm and soothing mood, spreading that warmness to the two of you on this cold November night.

It is a beautiful moment, shared by two people who understand each other on many levels. It is a moment that will pass, like every other moment you have shared so far but just like the rest, it will be a moment the two of you will look back on. It is a moment that only the two of you will know of as there is an unspoken agreement these moments were for yourselves only.

Miguel eats his piece of bread, quietly. He’s thinking about your reaction to him smiling. It makes him feel a mix of emotions. Was the sight of him smiling, even if it was a small smile, so surprising? Of course, he knows he doesn’t smile much these days, but your reaction makes him feel like the sight of it is a once in a lifetime moment. That was one emotion.

Another emotion is… what is the word? His emotions and thoughts are a bit out of place tonight, making it harder to think but he feels… satisfaction? Is that the right word he’s looking for? The point is that he found some joy in seeing your surprise, and your sudden – was it shyness? Was the sight too much for you that you had to look away and change the subject?

Miguel takes a sip of his coffee as he thinks about how he liked your reaction to him smiling, no matter how small it was. He sets the cup down and looks at the other plastic bag he brought with him. He picks it up, remembering.

“There’s candy here, too,” Miguel says opening it.

You finish eating your piece of bread, making a note to look for some pan dulce in your own universe because it was wonderful, as you turn your attention to the bag. You’re still thinking of Miguel smiling. You watch as Miguel pulls out different candy, holding so much in one hand because of its size.

He shows you the candy, and you recognize it from the ofrenda. He extends his arm out to you, offering you candy. You look up at him.

“What do you recommend?” you ask, and he begins to tell you what each candy is, even when you recognize some of it from trying it before.

You eventually go for a clown lollipop, which makes Miguel raise his eyebrow slightly.

“What? It has three things. Marshmallow on the inside, chocolate on the outside, and gummies,” you say giving him a small smile.

“You got a point,” Miguel says, grabbing one himself.

The two of you open your clown lollipops. You look at your own, noticing the gummies’ placement on the lollipop, which are supposed to signify the eyes and mouth, are crooked, looking nothing like the picture on the wrapping. You frown a little but shrug.

Next to you, Miguel stifles a low chuckle, noticing your frown at the appearance of your lollipop. He shows you his.

“The thing about these is that they never look like the picture on the wrapper,” he says quietly as you look at his crooked lollipop.

You chuckle, noticing his has the mouth upside down. “I was a little disappointed but I’m pretty sure the taste is going to make up for it,” you say, looking at it before you take a bite, making sure to go around the gummies.

Miguel watches, wanting to see your reaction. You chew the small piece you bit off, the chocolate and marshmallow melting in your mouth. Miguel sees the pleasant look on your face.

“Oh wow, this is – I think I’m in trouble,” you say, taking another small bite, still going around the gummies, deciding you’re going to leave them for last.

Miguel raises an eyebrow as he, too, takes a bite of his, also going around the gummies, as you mention being in trouble. You finish eating and look over at him.

“I used to have a sweet tooth. I think this is going to make me return to my bad ways,” you explain as you take another bite.

Miguel feels like smiling again as he sees you go for another bite. He also notices that you left the gummies for last, which reminds him of Gabriella because she used to do the same thing when he bought these lollipops for her.

The two of you spend another hour sharing candy and Miguel tells you about each one. Miguel eats the same candy you choose each time, as if he was trying it for the first time as well. He pays attention to your reactions, noticing which candy leaves the best impression on you. He also shares bits and pieces of Gabriella’s liking for a specific kind of candy. You listen intently when he speaks, appreciating his openness with you. You notice there’s no sadness as he speaks fondly of her. At least not tonight.

“I guess we’re not sleeping tonight,” he mutters as the two of you are now sitting, still on the floor, facing the ofrenda.

It’s past midnight now and the two of you have eaten quite a bit of candy, plus you had that cup of coffee. You both feel awake and alert.

“I don’t think I was planning on sleeping early, anyway,” you say quietly, staring at the flickering candles.

Miguel leans back on his hands, stretching his back slightly. The two bags he bought earlier are between you. The plastic wrappers from the candy you two ate are in a neat pile.

“You were doing chores,” he says, remembering you had mentioned that when he arrived.

You nod. “I had some random chores that I meant to do over the week but didn’t get to.”

“I’ve been keeping you busy with missions,” he says, looking at the photos of his loved ones.

You chuckle lightly. “It’s just the life of a superhero.”

Miguel nods, knowing exactly what you mean. When he lived in Gabriella’s world, he took every chore in the house. He cooked, cleaned, did the laundry, dishes, cut the lawn, and many other chores on top of being a father and a superhero. There were days when it all felt like too much, especially when he was unable to complete some of those chores when his superhero duty called. When he felt like that, when it was all too much, he just reminded himself that it didn’t matter. It was okay if the lawn grew a bit tall. It was okay if he got behind a day or two on laundry. It was okay as long as it meant he got to spend time with Gabriella. Her happiness and comfort were his top priority, and if he had to choose which he often did, between doing laundry or sitting on Gabriella’s bedroom floor playing with dolls because she asked him to join her, he always chose spending time with her.

The satisfaction of done laundry, or a clean sink, never compared to Gabriella’s smiles and laughs. If he could pay to hear her laugh live again, Miguel would give up everything he owned. Even if it was just one more time.

Miguel sighs softly, thinking of Gabriella. Memories of them playing on her bedroom floor flash through his mind. He can hear her voice and laugh. He remembers the way it felt to hold her in his arms. He remembers the nights he had to find a way to fit in her tiny bed to comfort her because she had nightmares. He’d lay there for hours, even if his muscles were tired. Even when his body desperately wanted to stretch to ease the tension, he laid there, guarding her sleep. He remembers the natural father instinct that surged through him. It was as if he had been meant to be a father his whole life.

As Miguel stares at the ofrenda, his eyes fall on the toys, and he silently prays that Gabriella visited him on this Dia de los Muertos. He prays that she forgave him for lying. For replacing her biological father. He prays that she found joy in the toys and food.

“Perdóname, mija.”

“Do you – do you mind telling me more about her?” you ask in a whisper, noticing Miguel’s lingering eyes on his deceased daughter’s photograph. You don’t know what gave you the confidence to ask that and you quickly add, “I’m sorry, I – you don’t have to. I don’t know what came over me.”

Miguel turns slowly to you, looking down at you. Your eyes meet. He’s quiet for a few seconds but his face is calm. He doesn’t look upset, and he’s not. He’s glad you asked. He’s just surprised and comforted by how you asked. It’s strange. Sometimes he feels like you grieve with him. He sees it in your eyes and detects it in your words and tone. He has never felt like anyone could share his grief. Until you. You didn’t even know Gabriella or his wife, or that version of himself.

Regardless of that fact, Miguel feels like you grieve with him. As if you grieve the opportunity of knowing them and a life he no longer has.

Miguel nods at last. “Gabriella…”

And so, the two of you spend another hour or so together in his lab. Miguel O’Hara begins to talk about his daughter and it’s like a door opens. His memories pour out of him, and you listen intently, nodding. He talks about the times she was sick, the time she fell from a swing and the scraped knee afterward, about her playing with dolls and him having to change his voice to be in character. He talks about the car rides back home after soccer matches and how Gabriella would be filled with energy the first fifteen minutes before she passed out asleep, exhausted from the game and her excitement from winning. He tells you so much than the last time. So much more, that you feel like you knew Gabriella yourself. You smile tenderly as Miguel talks about her in a way that just enforces how great of a father he was.

It's a while later when the two of you get up from the floor. You help him clean up, despite his protests. The two of you stand in front of the ofrenda for a few minutes, in silence afterward. You finally turn your head towards him, looking up at him. He notices and looks down at you, meeting your gaze.

“Thank you. I know this isn’t easy,” you say quietly, and he nods slowly.

You wish you could say more. Again, you feel that rush of emotions for this man. You wish you could tell him that he deserves happiness. That he deserves so much more…

“Thank you for coming,” he replies, and you nod with a small smile because you feel that that’s the only thing you can do.

You fall into silence again for a few seconds before you sigh softly.

“I should probably head back now,” you say, looking down at your gizmo to check the time.

Miguel also checks his gizmo, surprised. It’s very late. When he finished setting up the ofrenda and was ready to travel to your universe to invite you, he had no intention of keeping you up this late. He thought it would be an hour or so. Instead, the two of you have spent the last three hours on the floor eating pan dulce and candy, with him talking and sharing details of his life.

For a brief moment, Miguel tries to imagine doing this with someone else. He can’t. No one else pops into his head, for the two of you speak so differently when you are alone. You understand each other.

Miguel finally nods. “I didn’t realize how late it is. I’m sorry for keeping you up.”

You shake your head with a smile. “Don’t apologize. As I said, I was going to stay up to do some chores but…” you trail off and try to put your thoughts together without them coming off wrong. You want to say that you much prefer this. Spending time with him. Keeping each other company. How can you say that without it coming off wrong? You look away from his gaze for a few seconds, trying to think of how to word this and simply having no idea how to do so without giving the wrong impression. You shake your head softly at yourself, feeling silly for being unable to pull your thoughts together. You meet his eyes again, which have been on you this whole time. Miguel can see that you’re struggling to find a way to say what’s on your mind. It makes him want to know even more what you’re thinking.

“What I’m trying to say is that – I’m here,” you finally say and immediately feel like that was not the best way to say it, but it is also not the worst. “I’m here – for you.”

And I don’t mind stopping what I’m doing to be there for you, you silently think but can’t voice that part out loud.

Miguel stares down at you, your words echoing in his head. You’re here… for him. And he knows you mean it as your eyes meet. Miguel gives you a soft nod, his eyes show appreciation.

“Thank you…” he says, with a warm feeling in his chest.

You nod and give him another smile, seeing that appreciative look in his eyes. That will have to do. Maybe in the future you can say more but for tonight, that will have to do.

Miguel wants to say the same to you, but he can’t. The words get caught in his throat. He looks at the plastic bags from earlier. He pulls out two chocolate lollipops and some of the other candy he saw you liked the most, not fully realizing that he perfectly remembers this information. He looks at the bag with pan dulce. There are only two pieces of bread left. He extends his arms, offering you the bag with bread and the candy. It’s his own way of reciprocating your words to him. You look up at him, a little surprised.

“Oh, thank you but you don’t have to do that,” you say not making a move to take the items.

He looks down at you. “I insist… please,” he says quietly with a firm yet breathy tone.

Noticing his tone, you nod slowly and take the items from his hands gently. Your bare fingers brush his suited palm and fingers as you take the individual pieces of candy. The sensation is almost ticklish to Miguel’s palm, but he keeps his hand steady. Once you have everything in your hands, you look up at him again and smile.

“There was no need for this but thank you.”

Miguel nods, wishing he could’ve done this on top of reciprocating your words. Maybe another time.

“I hope you enjoy the other pieces of bread,” he says softly.

“I have no doubt I will,” you reply, still smiling. There’s a few seconds of silence between the two of you before you speak again. “Well, I��ll see you tomorrow. Thank you again… for everything.”

Miguel nods. “Thank you. I’ll see you later today,” he replies remembering it’s already early morning.

You nod one more time at him before you turn your eyes to the ofrenda. Your eyes fall on each photograph, and you say a silent goodbye to them. You don’t celebrate but you hope that they came to see Miguel tonight.

“Good night,” you finally say.

“Good night,” Miguel replies before you walk around the platform. Miguel remains standing in front of his ofrenda. He hears the multidimensional portal open nearby and then it’s quiet again. His eyes fall on each photograph, the flickering candles casting dancing shadows on his loved ones’ faces. He stands there for a few minutes, quietly thinking before he breaks the silence in his empty lab.

“I’m here for you, too...”

_________________

Translation for italicized words: Dia de los Muertos - Day of the Dead Ofrenda - Altar for Day of the Death Pan Dulce - Sweet Bread (Mexican pastries) "Perdóname, mija" - "Forgive me, my daughter." Mija(o) is a combination of "Mi" and "Hija(o)"

For the other italicized food items mentioned by Miguel from his childhood and items described on Gabriella's ofrenda, you can find a food guide right here that I quickly put together.

Ok, so I just want to say sorry for the freaking LONG update. My jaw dropped when I checked the word count once I was done editing (no wonder it took me so long). I don't think any other part will be this long. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and that if you love autumn (like me) this brought you comfort. I'm done with this summer heat 😭

I also want to ask how would you guys feel about a short Christmas part? It wouldn't be super long but I thought of Miguel in Christmas time and I just - Imagine Miguel in a chunky cable knit turtle neck sweater!! (Screaming, crying) If not, it's okay. I already have the "next" part mapped out and... I'm not well thinking about it.

As always, thank you for the support. For the lovely comments and asks. Reading them makes me so happy. Thank you 🥹

I love Miguel,

Alondra

Tag list:

@loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @rootin-tootin-morgan @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 @mandodinstuff @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes

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isaacswhy · 7 months ago

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isaacwhy x gn!reader (sfw) 1.6k summary: moving to the new house was rough, and you had to stay in a hotel for a few days while the boys moved. once you were settled in, you realized just how much you loved it. requested?: no

It brought you no joy to spend another night in the hotel. Of course, you were thankful that Isaac had paid for your nights staying there, but it was frustrating. You weren't able to sleep at home, with your boyfriend, like you usually were. But, you understood that he was just trying to keep you from going insane from how the other guys acted while they moved. It wasn't his first rodeo doing it.

No matter what, though, you still had to swipe your key card and drop your bag in the hotel as you always had. Isaac spent the first night with you, but had to stay the rest of the nights at the new house while they were moving in. The two of you learned the hard way that when Isaac wasn't around while the grown-up toddlers were moving their belongings, they'd be on the verge of burning the place down all the time.

At the very least, you got to call him. You took your shoes off, doing a quick switch into some pajama pants and walked over to your bed. That was the good part of the hotel, the phenomenal bedding. Isaac really shelled out for your comfort. You fished your phone from your pocket and opened Isaac's contact, pressing the little "FaceTime" button.

The line rang for a few seconds, allowing you to adjust how you looked in the camera before he picked up. Your image shrank into the corner as his face came into full view, beaming and bright. You couldn't help the smile on your face when you saw his big, toothy grin.

"Hi baby!" Isaac half-shouted as you watched him fall back on his bed, his curls spreading onto the blanket.

You waved to the camera. "Hi Isaac! How was the day today? Any good news for me?"

"Today was good!" Isaac sat up and looked down at the camera, "I should be able to have us fully settled by tomorrow. Hopefully, you can spend the night then."

You grinned a little bit at the prospect. You'd missed his strong arms wrapped around you. "That's great! I'll keep my phone on me and probably go out for a little shopping trip in the new city, so just give me a call whenever you think the place is ready."

"Sounds like a plan," He said, "I've been setting up our room, actually. Do you want to see now?"

"No, no, leave it a surprise for tomorrow night." With the house being a little bigger than the last one, somehow, the two of you were sharing a room and Isaac's setup would be in an office room connected to it. Although, you shared a room in the last house, but it was essentially just moving into Isaac's space and tossing your own clothes in his closet.

Things wrapped up easily that night, the two of you talking for a little too long until Isaac had to cut off the call. It was getting late, and he needed the energy for tomorrow. When you finally hung up, you tucked into bed, only Isaac filling your thoughts as you drifted off.

You awoke to the sunlight peering through the curtains the next morning. Grabbing your phone, you saw no news from Isaac and got up for the day.

It was pretty uneventful, other than picking up a few new pieces of clothes and a pair of shoes for Isaac. He was a bit of a nut about his shoe game, and you recognized the pair as one he'd been keeping his eye out for online. Luckily, they had a pair in his size. Shoe shopping for a man so tall was a nightmare sometimes.

You were just getting out of the line with your new items when you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket. Grabbing it showed Isaac's contact and a phone call, so you picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hey! I was just letting you know it should be good to come down whenever," Isaac sounded a little out of breath, "Just finished unpacking the last of our stuff. Had to carry Tanner's desk into his room so he could set up his computer. Anyways, if you want to pack up your stuff in the hotel and come down, I'm ready for you!"

A big grin spread across your face. "That's amazing! I'll be headed down soon. Just finishing up a trip to the mall, but I'm gonna head to the hotel right away. I'll pack up my shit and get down to you in a minute, okay?"

"Okay! I love you!"

Your heart warmed a little bit. "I love you too, Isaac, bye."

You were practically sprinting back to the hotel. Once you got inside, you were glad not to have unpacked everything yet. The rest of your clothes and other personal belongings you had with you were packed up quickly into your bags. The car Isaac had rented for you waited for you in the parking garage, where you tossed your things in there. From there, you hit the road.

The drive wasn't too long, but they'd chosen a location far enough from downtown to give themselves privacy. You didn't mind the drive, though, since it was just building excitement to see your boyfriend for the first time in a few days.

You finally pulled into the driveway and walked up to the front door, using your key to get inside. The place was beautiful. Clean, more modern look but with a touch of the luxury that came with a house of this size and price. Of course, in a few weeks, it'd look more like a bomb went off in here. But for the time being, it looked great.

Nick poked his head out from the kitchen and waved at you. "Hey! You finally made it!"

You nodded and waved back, smiling. "Yeah! Isaac thought it'd be best if I wasn't in your guys' path of destruction while you all got moved in. Since I hadn't brought a lot to the last house, anyways, I'm just the last piece of the puzzle."

"That.. makes sense, actually," Nick laughed to himself, "Well, welcome home! ISAAC! GET DOWN HERE!"

You flinched a bit at Nick's sudden yelling, but you heard thundering footsteps as suddenly, your boyfriend ran down the stairs and towards you. You practically leapt into his arms, feeling him pick you up and spin you around.

"You're home!" Isaac was practically squealing into your shirt as he finally put you down, "Do you like it?"

When you saw him like this, he really looked like an oversized puppy. "I love it! The place looks so nice! For now.."

"I'll do my best to make sure they don't rip it to shreds like the last house.." Isaac nervously chuckled, "Come on! Let me show you the room!"

You took Isaac's oversized hand as you followed him up the stairs, leading you through a hallway or two before he opened a door. He led you inside, and you were met with beauty. It was simple, clean, and everything you liked. There was so much personality, the shelves and tables lined with little trinkets, figures, and other pieces of things that you both liked.

You walked over to one of the shelves, smirking. "Did you get me a Jujutsu Kaisen figure?"

"Only because I thought you were really into it," He said with a shy smile, "Did I get it right?"

You nodded and smiled. It was your favorite character from the show, after all. He'd been a good listener after forcing you to watch it with him. "You did, don't worry. This room is amazing, should we go get my bags?"

Isaac lit up a bit. "Oh, right! I'll go get them, maybe get Nick to grab one. You don't worry about any of that, stay here and get yourself acquainted! Look around!"

Before you could protest, he was out of the room and you heard his footsteps down the hallway. You decided to do as he suggested, looking through everything he had set up in your room. You tested out the bed, which was as soft and comforting as you'd loved.

You walked into the office room connected to the bedroom, smiling at his setup and looking over to see a second setup. Before you'd moved, you had another setup that decided to short out during the hot summer heat. When you needed to play something, you often just used Isaac's or bullied Nick when Isaac was busy.

But, there was a second setup, next to Isaac's. It was your favorite color, with some figures and little items from your favorite shows decorating the desk, and a beautiful keyboard and mouse. You approached it, running your hand over the keys and pressing a few. The sound was off the charts.

"You like it?"

You turned around and saw Isaac standing at the door, with a grin on his face. "It's perfect. Was this the real reason you didn't want me here when you were moving in? So you could build all of this?"

Isaac shrugged his shoulders. "Maaaybe."

You sighed and shook your head. "You didn't have to do all this for me," You said with a sigh, but you walked up to him and smiled, "Thank you."

"Of course I have to, I'm your boyfriend," Isaac's voice made you weak in the knees a little bit. When he spoke so softly as he pulled you into a tight hug, his voice warmed your body like nothing else could.

With Isaac's arms wrapped around you like they were, you were able to take in his scent and sit there in the peace in quiet. It felt like pure comfort to you. It felt like home.

#isaacwhy #isaacwhy x reader #the group chat #the group #the group x reader #tgc #tgc x reader #yumi #softwilly #bigt #larry croft #grunk

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arcane-vagabond · 23 days ago

Text

Hanging By a Moment: Chapter Three

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Taking place directly after the events of "Don't Hang'em Til Noon," this series follows more of Jake and Scout as they traverse life in the New Mexico territories. Isaac Cassidy's gang is still hanging about, stirring up trouble in the name of their fallen leader. Additionally, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell and your brother, Benjamin, have established rights to a gold mine that's now drawing in more and more unsavory characters. Will you have what it takes to survive the growing danger?

Content Warnings: Talks of business, Talks of unsavory characters, Flirting, Jake being a menace, Bradley being kind of cute, Feelings of being watched, Paranoia, Thunderstorms, Reader gets scared, Cuddling, Talks of the future, and a Proposal. I think that's everything, but please let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 3.4k

Series Masterlist || DGU Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist 1 || Playlist 2

“It’s rather sudden, wouldn’t you say?” You asked Benjamin as he shoved a wad of shirts into one of his suitcases. Rolling your eyes, you stepped into his room, removing the shirts to fold them neatly into a pile as he started in on his pants. “Would you stop shoving everything in? You’re going to have wrinkles in everything by the time you get there.”

Benjamin rolled his eyes, setting his pants down on the bed before crossing his arms over his chest.

“You nag just like Mother used to,” he grumbled. You shot him a dirty look before dropping the shirt in your hands and moving towards the door. Benjamin let out an exasperated growl before grabbing your wrist and pulling you back. “Okay, fine. I’m sorry. Please help me pack.”

You let out a humph and a roll of your eyes as you continued to fold his clothes neatly for him.

“Now why must you go off to San Francisco so suddenly?” You prodded.

“It’ll be good for the business,” he explained. “Mr. Kerner has invited Maverick and me to join him at his firm to go over the essentials and to tour other mines so that we might see how the operations work. Maverick won’t join us until later, but I’ll go ahead to get some of the legal proceedings outs of the way.”

“You’re a lawyer,” you hummed, a frown tugging at your lips, “so why the sudden interest in investing in a gold mine?”

“It’ll be good money, Scout,” he insisted. “It’ll set my children and even yours up for life. Hell, this could be an addition to our legacy, to the life we’ve started out here.”

Financial security was tempting, especially in uncertain times, and while the ranch itself was making money, there was no promise that it would tomorrow. You supposed that it was wise to venture into other pursuits—just in case one of them ended up a failure.

“I can see by the look on your face that you don’t agree,” Benjamin hummed, pursing his lips.

“No, it’s not that,” you grumbled, shaking your head. Benjamin arched a brow in your direction in a silent question, and you let out a long sigh before continuing. “I’m concerned about the safety of this town. News of gold is going to draw in all sorts from all over, and only a fraction of them will have good intentions. Did you consider that?”

Benjamin didn’t respond right away, the thoughts racing through his head almost visible in his eyes. After a moment, he shook his head, moving across the room to gather a couple of items from his dresser.

“You worry too much.”

You scoffed. “You worry too little.”

“That’s why we’re such a great team, baby sister,” he grinned, spinning back around on his heel to face you. “Together, we worry just the right amount.”

You glared at him, though there was no real heat to it.

“Bad things are bound to happen anywhere,” he reasoned with a sigh, plopping down on the bed beside you, arms outstretched across the width of the mattress. “The country is expanding west, Scout. There were already unsavory characters here, as you very well know.”

You did know, the memory of Isaac’s cold, black eyes flashing in your mind and sending a shiver up your spine.

“That doesn’t mean we need to give others more reason to follow suit,” you muttered, picking at some non-existent lint on your skirt. Benjamin let out a long sigh before turning his head to look at you.

“You know,” he drawled thoughtfully, “you could just seduce them all like you did Seresin. I mean, it worked out pretty well last ti-”

Benjamin let out a startled squawk as you brought the pillow down on his face, his arms flailing as he scrambled to sit up as you reared your hand back to hit him again.

“I did not seduce him,” you hissed, trying desperately to hold back your laughter as Benjamin nearly collapsed onto the floor in his frenzy.

“Well, you certainly didn’t stop him,” he snickered, dodging your next blow just in time, cowering as you advanced on him. “In fact, there’s been more than one occasion where I’ve walked in on the two of you engaging in-”

The next blow had him stumbling on his feet. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, the heat running down your neck and to your ears. Benjamin rubbed his jaw, pulling his fingers back to inspect them.

“Kissing,” he said, glancing over at you. “I was going to say kissing. Your guilty conscious gets the better of you, Scout.”

You scowled at him, raising the pillow once more, only stopping once he raised his hands in surrender.

“I yield,” he chuckled, dropping his hands as you dropped yours. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing, you know.”

“I’d rather you didn’t say anything,” you retorted, setting the pillow back in its proper place.

“I think it’s good you’ve found happiness out here,” he continued, ignoring your comment. “I’m happy that you’ve managed to find someone who makes you happy rather than someone who you think would make our father happy. Jake is a fairly decent step up from Henry Cargill.”

Your lips puckered at the name. You would have lived comfortably had you chosen to stay behind in Maryland and marry Henry as your late father would have wanted before his death, but you knew you made the right decision in choosing Jake.

Even if he still hadn’t proposed after all these months.

“I have to go run a few things to Penny,” you announced, making a beeline for the door.

“Sure you do,” Benjamin scoffed. “Give my regards to Jake, then.”

The fan in your hand did little to quell the heat of the changing seasons. It was early spring, a time where it was too hot for your winter wardrobe, but still too hot for your summer clothes. Your arm was beginning to hurt from how hard you were fanning yourself, and you closed your eyes to give them a rest from the glare of the sun overhead.

You hated the heat.

“Well, hello, gorgeous.”

You pried an eye open to see two green ones already on you. You straightened up, turning to face Jake fully as he smirked down at you.

“Jake,” you nodded, managing to keep the eager smile at bay as you batted your eyes up at him.

“You look like you’re roastin’, honey girl,” he chuckled, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Why’d you wear this if it’s gonna have you miserable?”

“I’ll be too cold in my summer clothes,” you explained with a sigh. Jake’s eyes twinkled as his smirk grew lascivious.

“I can think of a few ways to keep you warm,” he purred, a different heat rising to your cheeks at his words. You swatted him with your fan as you glanced around to see if anyone had heard him.

“Behave,” you warned, snapping the fan shut and tapping the end into his chest. He pouted, placing a hand to his chest in faux hurt.

“Me?” He asked, batting his lashes. “You’re accusing me of misbehaving? Well, now I’m hurt.”

“I’m sure you are,” you snorted, withdrawing your hand to continue fanning yourself. Jake watched you for a moment, drinking you in as sweat ran down the column of your throat, his eyes following it down and continuing on as he took in the rest of you. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he shifted, and you shot him a glare.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you snapped, drawing his attention back to your face, a sheepish look gracing his features at having been caught.

“Like what?”

“You know damn good and well what you were doing,” you hissed, narrowing your eyes at him. “We’re not a married couple, and people already talk.”

“Let them,” he said, leaning forward. You pushed at his chest, a thunderous look on your face as he chuckled. “We’re practically married, anyway.”

Your temper simmered beneath your skin as you replied, “Not without a proper proposal and ceremony, we’re not.”

“All good things to those who wait, honey girl,” he smirked once more. You pursed your lips, lifting your chin as you watched the people of Maverick pass by.

“The butcher’s son asked me for my hand again yesterday morning,” you mused. “If you don’t get your act together soon, I’m going to let him start believing it’s a possibility.”

“Honey girl, you best watch it now,” Jake warned, eyes growing dark as a glint shone in his eyes.

“Or what?” You challenged, lifting your chin in defiance. Jake’s frown turned into a dangerous smirk. He squared his shoulders, taking a step closer to you before leaning down close enough for you to inhale the scent was so distinctly him. He leaned in, the heat rolling off of him and causing a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. Your hand came up to brace yourself against his arm as his other wound around your waist, squeezing slightly.

“Or,” he purred, lips brushing against the shell of your ear, “I’ll put you over my knee and leave your ass so red and raw, you’ll be shifting in that pew at church Sunday morning.”

You let out a shuddering breath, chest heaving as he pulled away, a smug smirk sat firmly on his lips as he shot you a wink.

“You look flustered, Scout,” he grinned, golden hair shining in the sunlight and creating a halo effect that had you gaping. “Looks like you might need to sit down before you faint.”

“You’re a menace,” you grumbled, shooting him a half-hearted glare. He chuckled and leaned down to peck your cheek.

“Takes one to know one,” he murmured as you swatted at him again. He dodged you, hopping back.

“Jake!”

You turned to see Bradley standing on the porch to the Hard Deck, posture nervous as he shifted on his feet and his eyes darted around. Jake sighed and let out a long sigh as he shoved his hands in his pockets. He peered over at you as the other man gestured towards the blond to come over.

“I gotta go, honey girl,” Jake said, pursing his lips as he shot Bradley a glare. “Bradshaw wants to make sure his costume is perfect for the play in a couple of days, and I somehow got roped into helping.”

“Will you be by for dinner?” You asked. “I’m making dumplings.”

Jake let out a moan as he fixed you with adoring eyes. “I swear to god, I’m going to marry you.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you teased, a smile playing at your lips.

“Jake!”

“Jesus, Bradshaw! It’s a costume for a school play, not life and death,” Jake snapped over his shoulder. “Give me a damn minute!”

You snickered as Bradley rolled his eyes and stomped back into the saloon. Jake grinned down at you as he toyed with a strand of your hair.

“When’s Benji goin’ to be home?” He purred, eyes lidded as he looked you up and down once more.

“He won’t,” you told him, and his attention snapped up to you. “He’s going to San Francisco for business.”

“He what?” Jake asked, frowning. “He’s leaving you on your own?”

“Yes,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “It’s not the end of the world. It’s only for a few weeks, and I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Jake.”

You looked to see Javy now standing on the porch, hands on his hips as he nodded at you.

“Come on,” he hollered across the street, peering over his shoulder for a moment to see into the saloon. “Bradley’s freaking out. You can canoodle later.”

You looked back at Jake who looked like he was going to lose his temper at any moment, bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“He’s coming!” You hollered back, a smile on your face as you rested a hand on Jake’s chest. You lowered your head to try and meet his gaze. “Canoodle?”

“I don’t know where he hears these words,” he griped, shaking his head. “You’d think the damn world was ending with how Bradley’s going on about this whole thing. It’s a play, for Christ’s sake.”

“I think it’s sweet,” you shrugged. “He and Birdie are cute together.”

Jake hummed but didn’t answer, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to your forehead before reluctantly pulling away.

“I’ll see you later tonight?” He asked, backing away slowly. You nodded barely hiding your smile behind your fan as he grinned, turning and trotting over towards the saloon. You watched silently, and with one last wave, he was inside.

You let out a sigh, wondering just when exactly you had become so lovesick as to miss him already. A tingle shot up the base of your neck, and you whipped your head towards the end of the street, the feeling of being watched suddenly prominent. You frowned as your scanned the street, shaking your head as you saw no one or nothing out of place. That was happening to you a lot recently, the feeling of being watched. You always managed to chalk it up to residual feelings from your encounter with Isaac not too long ago.

The bell to the door of the general store rang out, startling you out of your thoughts as Hondo grinned down at you.

“Well, good afternoon, Miss Scout,” he grinned, stepping back and gesturing for you to walk in. “Have you been waiting long? I didn’t think I’d take so long getting that shipment ready.”

“No,” you breathed, shaking your head and the rest of the worrying thoughts out of your head. “Not at all. Do you have anything new in today?”

It was late, and you weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself. The ranch hands had retired to their own homes only an hour before, and you had finished cleaning up from dinner not long after. Jake hadn’t shown up, and you were sure that Bradley’s panic induced state had something to do with that.

The wind had been picking up steadily over the course of the past hour, and the sound of distant thunder rolled into the confines of your home. You usually found the sound of thunder soothing, but for some reason it had you on edge tonight. The rain had started off as a few scattered sprinkles and then quickly dissolved into a downpour, the wind howling and rattling the windows. You had taken up purchase on the sofa, needlework in hand as you attempted to occupy your mind with anything other than worrying thoughts that nagged at you.

The fireplace crackled, casting a soothing heat that helped to ease your mind some, but you quickly set your needlework aside to get up and make yourself some tea.

The kitchen was dark save for the candle you had lit to allow yourself some light, the light from the flame flickering and casting ominous shadows in your usually cozy home. The panes of the window rattled as another gust of wind rammed into the house, and you tapped your finger on the countertop as you chewed on your bottom lip. A crack of lightning lit up the sky, and your heart stopped as your eyes caught the shadow of a figure by the barn. You narrowed your eyes, trying to peek through the darkness and into the shadows. Surely no one would be standing out in this weather. And looking into your house of all places? Still, a sickening feeling boiled in the pit of your stomach, and adrenaline started to course through your veins.

Another crack of lightning crashed in the night, startling you enough to jump, but one look toward the barn had you letting out a shaky breath. There was no one there this time, and you were starting to wonder if there ever was to begin with. Were you going crazy?

The creek of the floorboards behind you coupled with another peel of thunder had you whirling around, a scream caught in your throat at the sight of a shadow in the doorway.

“Scout?”

It took you a moment for your eyes to adjust, but the sight of Jake standing in front of you had a wave of relief washing over you, a tear escaping the corner of your eye unbidden.

“Honey girl,” he cooed, walking forward, his arms reaching for you, “what’s wrong? What happened?”

You shook your head, a hand over your mouth as you pushed the sob working its way up back down. Jake was soaked from head to toe, droplets dripping onto the floor as he rubbed your arms in a soothing motion.

“Talk to me,” he murmured, leaning down to try and catch your gaze. “What’s going on? What has you so worked up?”

You felt stupid. The shadow you saw must have been Jake checking on the horses. Yes, that had to have been him. You were letting your paranoia get the better of you.

“You’re dripping water all over my floors,” you whispered. Jake’s eyes widened, looking from you down to the floor before letting out a breathy chuckle.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered, “I would have been here sooner, but-”

“You’re here now,” you said, moving past him and towards the laundry you hadn’t had a chance to put away yet. “You need to change or you’ll catch a cold.”

“Scout,” he started, voice wary as he watched you scurry about. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

You stood up, a clean shirt clutched in your hands as you looked back at him. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He studied you for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek before nodding slowly.

“Alright,” he conceded. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m positive,” you corrected. “Now go and get changed. I’ll warm up some food for you.”

Jake didn’t take long, changing and eating quickly as you took care of the odds and ends around the house. Neither of you spoke a word, but Jake’s eyes watched you as you pointedly refused to meet his gaze.

The two of you retired to the parlor, Jake reading as you started to doze. He reached for you, pulling you across the sofa and into his arms as he let out a contented sigh. You chuckled, shaking your head as you practically burrowed into his side. His fingers stroked up and down the length of your arm, adding to the calm that enveloped you even as the storm raged outside.

“You ever think about what our life together is going to be like?”

You hummed, lifting your head to peer up at him through sleepy eyes. “I do.”

“You ever think about what kind of house you’d want?” Jake continued, staring into the fireplace.

“Sometimes,” you nodded slowly. “I’d like a house big enough for our kids and grandkids to play in. Somewhere we can grow old in.”

“I’d like that too,” he murmured, hands moving down to play with your fingers absentmindedly. “I want a large house with enough land to support ourselves. Nothing like the amount of land Benji’s got himself here, but enough that we wouldn’t have to struggle.”

Silence fell between the two of you, but it wasn’t unpleasant. You soaked up the feeling of the moment, mind drifting towards sleep as Jake continued to play with your fingers.

“I’m going to build us a big, ol’ house,” he continued quietly. “I’m going to build you the kitchen of your dreams and set up your own little garden while I’m at it. You’re not going to want for anything, Scout.”

You hummed, feeling the touch of cool metal slide onto your left ring finger, a furrow in your brow as your brain tried to claw its way back to the land of the conscious.

“I can’t give you all these fancy jewels or take you to Paris and London for holidays, but I can give you my heart and my devotion. You’ll never have to question me or my loyalty to you, honey girl.”

You pried your eyes open, gasping at the diamond that now glittered on your hand. Jake brushed his lips against your temple, breathing you in as you struggled to catch up with what was happening, tears filling your eyes as a smile curled on your lips.

“Scout,” Jake started. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

A/N: I missed these two so much oh my goooooooood. And how about that ending, huh?? That's crazy lol Anyway, I'm hoping to have some time to work on a few more updates for next week, but we'll see. I'll run a poll for the next update, but let me know thoughts! Both on the next update and what you thought of this chapter!

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peterman-spideyparker · 2 years ago

Text

Celebrate (Marc Spector x fem!Reader, Steven Grant x fem!Reader, Jake Lockley x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! So, I have had this done for a while and just never posted, so better late than never, amirite? And besides, we can all always use more Oscar Isaac and the Moon Boys in our lives. Enjoy! :)

Summary: The boys realize that they've never celebrated your birthday with you, despite being with you for well over a year and you celebrating their birthday. When they find out when it is, nothing will stop them from giving you a birthday for the record books.

Warning: Fluff (established couple with all the Moon Boys, super sweet affection, kisses, a very important question), angst (negative emotions about birthdays), implied smut

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 3,348

Steven, Marc, and Jake love you. They loves everything about you, from how you talk, to how you have a ‘lucky’ something for every category of item you own, to how big your heart is. But there is one thing about you that particularly irks them.

In the year and a half that you have been together with them, they has yet to find out when your birthday is. For all they knows, they could have missed it twice! Hell, you’ve remembered theirs twice and have done incredibly loving things for both.

They have tried everything—Steven even tried to sneak a peak at your license once, but turned out to be in a different wallet. Steven only knew his lack of knowledge wasn’t by virtue of him not trying extremely hard, because Marc and Jake couldn’t find out either.

Jake enjoyed playing around with the fantasy that you were a secret spy or assassin who stepped away from the action to lead a normal, quiet life. Steven and Marc were ready to quickly dismiss it when they remembered that they served as an avatar for the Egyptian God of the moon. In all honesty, there was a chance that Jake could be right.

“Did you know that in Ancient Egypt, Pharaohs didn’t celebrate birthdays on the actual day?” Steven asks as he hands you a dish from the suds. “They celebrated their coronation day since it was when they were born into the role of ruler.”

“Interesting,” you respond as you use the towel to dry the plate.

“It’s a bit sad, though, innit? That other people didn’t celebrate their birthdays. It wasn’t a common thing.”

“Well, I mean, I guess people make a big deal out of birthdays and place a lot of pressure on them. Maybe the Egyptians had it right.”

“But it’s an important day, you know? Someone fantastic was brought to the world, that’s worth celebratin’.”

You have a feeling you know what he’s getting at. You choose to remain quiet.

“You’re worth celebratin’, (Y/N).”

You feel tears sting at your eyes, and you suck in your bottom lip to prevent yourself from crying.

“Why haven’t you told us when your birthday is?” he pleads softly.

You dip your head and shrug. “My birthday . . . I don’t know,” you mutter. “I have a lot of mixed feelings about it, and I don’t know how to say them without sounding whiny.”

Steven tilts your chin up with a sudsy finger so your eyes lock onto his.

“We’re all ears,” he says tenderly.

You let out a sigh, but Steven’s finger refuses to let your gaze leave his.

“No matter how old I got or whatever new friends I made, my friends and colleagues and even my exes always forgot my birthday. I always made it a point to remember theirs, get a gift, a card, whatever, because—it’s the friggin’ day they’re born! And then I always had these small, wistful expectations there’d be something done for me like a surprise, but it was always nothing. Once I got into my college years, I’d have these hopes and expectations of what I’d have done by that birthday, and most of them never came true. My ‘have a first kiss’ goal was deferred for eight years until I was 25.” You close your eyes and give your head a little shake. “I’m just always disappointed by my birthday with other people and myself. Never a real reason to celebrate.”

Steven dries his hands and wipes away yours tears with the pads of his thumb as he pulls you in for a loving hug.

“Will you tell us when your birthday is, love?” Steven whispers into your hair. “Please?”

Unable to resist his tender embrace, you tell him the date, and he pulls back to scan your face. “That’s Thursday,” he states.

“Yeah,” you nod. “It is.”

You don’t expect him to cradle your face in his hands while he kisses you deeply. “Boy, do we have some idea’s stewin’ in our brain,” he beams as he gives you another kiss. “And you know what? Since I missed it last year, you’re gonna have a half-birthday celebration that is gonna knock your knickers right off of you.”

“My knickers?” you laugh, your hurt feelings quickly leaving your body.

Steven whistles and moves his hand like a plane to emphasize the absolute absence of panties you’ll have before he hops up and rubs his hands together in excitement.

“Oh,” he says as he holds up a finger. “This is why we couldn’t figure out your birthday, right? You’re not secretly a spy or assassin?”

You laugh at the implication, the sadness rolling off of your body. “Jake’s idea?”

Steven nods.

“Well, I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you, and I’d hate to ruin that pretty face of yours. And then there’s the issue of getting rid of the body, and we’re on the fifth floor—.”

“See, I know you’re jokin’, but part of me is actually a little spooked right now,” Steven says.

“No, hon. I’m not a spy,” you giggle, moving to kiss his cheek and push his curly hair back. “Sorry to disappoint Jake.”

Steven breathes a sigh of relief and dips his head as you hold onto him. "Oh, thank the gods!"

You’re vaguely aware of the shifting on your mattress as you continue to enjoy a cozy slumber under the comforter with your head on the pillows. After a bit, you feel another shift on the mattress along with the warmth of another body whose smell you know all too well.

“Happy birthday, my love,” Steven whispers with a gentle kiss to your cheek.

You let out a tired moan as you roll into Steven’s body, wrapping an arm around his middle and burying your face into his chest as you try to pull yourself back into a deep sleep.

“Come now, I’ve made you your favorite. And I have a nice big mugga mornin’ Joe with your name on it,” he encourages.

You unbury your head slightly, looking up at him with still heavy eyes. He smiles as he looks down at you, kissing your forehead.

“I knew if the kisses didn’t do it, the coffee would,” he chuckles.

As you sit up in bed, Steven twists his torso and places a breakfast tray on your lap, presenting you with waffles, fresh cut fruit, and veggie sausage.

“Thank you, hon,” you tell him, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Anythin’ for the birthday girl,” he hums, placing a kiss on your neck that sends goosebumps throughout your body. “I still wish you could’ve taken the day off.”

“Trust me, if I didn’t have these big meetings, I’d probably just stay in bed with you three.”

“Don’t give Jake any ideas—he’d find a way to make those meetings cancelled,” Steven chuckles, stealing a strawberry for himself. You know there’s nothing particularly aphrodisic or phallic about a strawberry, but watching Steven’s lips move around the red fruit and how his tongue licks away the juice sends your head spinning. Steven catches you looking at him and smirks. “Yes, love?”

“Oh, nothing,” you blush as you move to take a bite of the waffles in front of you.

“Mm, likely story,” he hums as he licks his lips once more, bringing his lips to your pulse point for a chaste kiss.

“I don’t know that I’m gonna be able to finish these, hon,” you chuckle as you take a closer look at the stack. “You made eight?”

“I’ve seen you devour a stack of waffles with no issue before.”

“Yeah, on a weekend where I don’t have to go do a full day of work later.”

“Then lucky for you, I am here to help,” he smiles, stealing your fork to snatch a bite of waffles for himself. “Bloody hell, I’m a good cook.”

We continue to sit in bed and eat the fluffy breakfast food until you have to get ready for work. As you fix your hair in the bathroom, Steven takes care of the dishes; he finishes drying them as you move from the bathroom to put on your clothes. As you slide on your sweater, Steven shuffles into the bedroom.

“Let me walk you to work today?” he whispers as he lifts out the hair tucked into the collar of your sweater.

“I want to say yes, but then I wouldn’t want to go in or have you leave,” you respond just as quietly. “Especially after a morning like this one. It’d be the bed predicament on the sidewalk.”

Steven brings his lips to yours slowly as you wrap your arms around his waist. The kiss is tender and lazy, much like how you wish you could spend the day with one another. Steven lets out a defeated sigh as his lips part from yours, resting his forehead against yours.

“Text me when you get there?” he asks as his fingers play with your hair.

“Of course,” you tell him. "Love you."

Steven hands you your purse, letting you adjust it on your shoulder before he places more quick kisses on your lips, murmuring a "Love you more," as you attempt to make it out the door.

“What?” you chuckle as you put your purse on the table by the door. Jake is leaning on the kitchen table like a puppy that needs to be let out.

“I can’t wait for my girlfriend to do part two of her birthday?” Jake smirks as he suavely moves over from the wooden surface and meets you at the door, his hands on your waist as he plants a passionate kiss on your lips.

“And what would part two be, exactly?” you smile as you bite your lip, keeping them just out of reach of his so you don’t spend the rest of the night making out in the kitchen—although, you wouldn’t be opposed to it.

“I can’t give away all of the details, mi corazón. Now, go to the bedroom, put on what’s laid out, and then we’ll go to part two.”

You smirk at him and scrunch your eyebrows playfully as you try to figure out what he has planned. You do as he asks, nonetheless. Lying on the bed, you see a beautiful sky blue satin dress with an asymmetrical hemline and silver strappy heels. You slide on the dress and it fits like a glove—so much like a glove, you can see the line of your underwear underneath the fabric. Lightly chuckling to myself, you slide off your panties and take off your bra. Usually, you’d be opposed to going full commando, but when you see yourself in the mirror, everything looks better—the dress was made to be worn on your body without undergarments. You slide on the heels to finish off the look and quickly comb your hair to revitalize it from the day. When you meet Jake back in the living room, he licks his lips and smirks as he looks at you, giving you bedroom eyes as you move closer to him.

“Now will you tell me what we’re doing?” you coo as you run your hands up and down his chest.

“No,” he smiles as he pulls you in for a searing kiss, squeezing your ass for scientific reasons, you’re sure.

“You’re not wearing anything underneath this, are you?” he breathes against your lips.

“Not a stitch,” you hum as you move his hands off your rear, taking a step back and opening the door with your things in hand. “Lead the way, Lockley.”

He gives you a bedroom smirk and mutters a string of Spanish curses and erotic notions under his breath—something about not realizing how sexy you’d look and what he’d rather be doing to you.

“Don’t worry, babe, I think all of you boys will be able to do those kinds of things later,” you assure him as you pull him down by his tie for a kiss. “Patience is a virtue.”

“Not when vice looks as good as you in satin.”

Jake captures your lips in a passionate and lusty kiss that still maintains an air of chastity to it—his mind on the mission of the surprise, but his heart veering towards your shared bed.

“Come on, cariño,” he rasps as he takes your hand and leads you out of the apartment and down the stairs.

“I don’t even get a hint?” you try again as you walk along the sidewalk.

“Tell me what you think we’re doing.”

“Really? Twenty questions on my birthday?”

“Play along,” he chuckles.

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically as you lace your fingers with his. “It’s definitely somewhere fancy?”

“Is it, though?”

“I’m dressed to the nines. I don’t see how it can’t be somewhere fancy.”

“Or I wanted to show you off.”

“Okay,” you say, processing Jake’s cheeky remark, thinking of all the possibilities. “Well, dinner would be too obvious, so it clearly can’t be that.”

“Clearly,” he chuckles. “Come on, cariño, I thought you knew me better than this.”

“Ouch, gut punch!” you say, poking at it side. “I’m still thinking. You are an expert at being sneaky, I’m trying to process my options.”

“Well, you should come up with one soon. We’re almost there.”

Knowing the area, you scan through all the storefronts you can bring to your mind, when something clicks with your ensemble.

“Jake Lockley, are you taking me dancing?” you hum as you look over to him, his eyes sparkling in the dim London light.

“It took you long enough to figure it out,” he chuckles as he guides you to the left into a little courtyard that is all done up where other couples are waiting to start the lessons. “We’re gonna put those hips of yours to a different kind of work. Just for a short while, at least.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything fun or culinary up my sleeves,” Marc says as the two of you walk hand in and through the quiet park, the path lit by beautiful old street lamps.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything,” you tell him. “I know how much effort you all put into today. It’s nice to wrap it all up with dinner and a little stroll.”

A gentle breeze begins to pick up, and Marc immediately shrugs off his bomber jacket to place on your shoulders. You want to protest, but you love having things that he wears on your body—the warmth form his frame, the smell of his skin and cologne, the silent gesture of love.

“Thanks, baby,” you tell him softly as he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Did you have a good day today?” he asks, matching your tone. “I know you mentioned your meetings—.”

“Yeah, the meetings from hell,” you sigh as you roll your neck, the mere thought of them bringing tension to your body. “Not only could they all have been emails, but they were ridiculously long and were so unproductive that we knew less by the end than we did at the start. Debbie led both.”

“Oh no, not Debbie.”

“Mmhm. Don’t get me started with that one.” You let out a long sigh and rest your head on his shoulder. “But it’s all worth it, because I get to come home to an amazing system of men who love me.”

He rests his cheek on top of your head. “We love you, too, baby.”

“How about we go home and take a bath? Wind down from the day. Get naked and wet together.”

“Mm, two of my favorite adjectives.”

“Maybe we can add some other adjectives you like to that mix,” you chuckle, lightly checking his hip with yours.

Taking a turn off the path of the park, you hop on the sidewalk and make the short walk back to the flat, snuggling close in the old elevator as it drags its way up to the top floor.

“You want me to put on a kettle for tea or coffee or something?” you hum as you unlock the door, tossing your keys into the dish as you make your way in. “Or are we going to save all the warm water for—what are you doing?”

In your living room, Marc is perched down on one knee, a little open box in his hands as he looks up at me with his rich brown eyes.

“We were actually gonna do this next week,” Marc starts, his voice soft, the edges brimming with emotion. “But we thought this might be a really great way to end your birthday.”

“Baby . . .”

“(Y/N), I don’t think I need to begin to tell you how much we all love you. If I did, we’d be here for a hell of a long time, I’d loose feeling in my legs from the knee down, and you’d offer to help me walk over to the bed, just like how you are always there to help me and Steven and Jake with whatever comes up. You see us as whole people. You make us feel whole. You have the biggest, most caring heart that a person can have, and you love so selflessly . . .” Marc sniffles and furrows his brows as he tries to keep his cool. You take a few steps toward him, kneeling down and wiping his tears away with your thumbs.

“Marc,” you say softly, his name on your tongue dripping with emotions.

“We can’t imagine our lives without you in it, and we never want to,” Marc continues. “Will you marry us?”

“Of course,” you practically sob, wrapping your arms around him and holding him tight. He holds you back just as firm, neither of you saying a word. Marc is the one who eventually breaks the embrace, moving to take out the ring out of the box to slide it on your finger slowly.

“It’s a pink sapphire, but it looks purple, and you love purple—,” Marc starts.

“—and gold jewelry looks so lovely on your skin, cariño—,” Jake continues.

“—and it’s a vintage settin’ so there’s no ill-environmental effects,” Steven finishes. “Happy birthday, my love.”

“You guys are sure?” you sniffle, your teary eyes frantically scanning their faces. “Are you sure you guys love me? That this is what you want?”

“Mi corazón, where is this coming from?” Jake asks softly, brushing tears off of your cheek. “Of course this is what we want. We’ve never felt this way about anyone before. We only want you, amore.”

“It just doesn’t feel real. It feels like a dream.”

“It’s very real, love,” Steven says, gentle hands on your shoulders as he leans forward to place a sweet kiss on your forehead. “And you already said yes—there’s no take-backs.”

You let out a wet laugh as you move back in to kiss Steven—he always knows just what to say to bring a smile to your face.

“Well, I guess if there’s no take backs.”

As Steven leans forward to kiss you again, and you feel distinct shift just before we part, and you’re met once more with Marc.

“Is it still a yes?” he asks carefully.

“Of course it’s still a yes. I’ve got the three best guys in the world—why wouldn’t I want to make it official?”

Marc smiles brighter than you’ve ever seen in your life. He leans forward to kiss you once more, his arms wrapping around you tightly and picks you up, much to your surprise. The two of you continue to kiss as he walks you to the bed and lays you down on the mattress, only briefly parting from you to brush some stray hairs off of your face.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he whispers, his forehead resting on yours, allowing you to feel his eyelashes brush your cheeks.

“I love you all so much,” you whisper. “Thank you for choosing me.”

Marc gingerly kisses the tip of your nose. “Forever and always.”

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Marc Spector/Steven Grant Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @later-gators12

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whore-ibly-hot · 1 year ago

Text

💚👻Yan!Harold Biddle Hc's💚👻

"Viewer beware, you're in for a scare."

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Yandere themes, dark behavior, possession, general spooks, serial killer, bullying, angst teen ghost boy?

AN: Requested by an Anon, this man has me down so bad, and I hope this inspires others to write for him. I love both old and new goosebumps media, and how our reader meets Harold is VERY similar to the goosebumps TV show episode 'The Phantom of the Opera'. Enjoy and happy belated Halloween! Go watch Goosebumps on Disney ➕️. Never done an HC before...

👻💚👻💚👻💚👻💚👻💚👻💚👻💚👻💚👻💚

💚In a situation for Harold to grow truly attached to someone, you would have to be from out of town, or visiting a family member, perhaps. Harold is filled with such hatred for his former classmates and there spawn, that even those who didn't kill him, he knows stood idly by and ignored him in school. Because of this, he probably wouldn't want the son or daughter of a former classmate.

👻Maybe you moved to Port Lawrence with your family, whether for work or a fresh start, or maybe your a distant cousin of one of the people in town. As long as you aren't a direct descendant, Harold will have an easier time coming to terms with these feelings.

💚Being new in town was hard for you, nerve wracking even. Everyone at this school seemed to have a clique or group, and even the loners had their own things going on. Luckily, you caught wind through overhearing some classmates that a party was being held on Halloween night. Hoping to make some real friends, you donned a costume and set out.

👻The address had been kind of hard to find, some old, blocked off road with a creepy mansion at the end. Still, the party was in full swing, teens dancing and drinking, strobe lights and shitty music filled the main room of the house. You asked one of your classmates, Lucas, about the house.

"Oh, yeah. Some kid died here like, a hundred years ago or something. Big explosions, a fire..." A skinnier boy in a cat costume cut him off. "Don't listen to Lucas, it wasn't a hundred years ago, dude. It was like, the 90s." He rolls his eyes.

💚A little uneasy about sneaking into a house, much more the site of a gruesome death, you tried to enjoy the party. After a few drinks, Dr. Pepper, you weren't trying to call your parents to take you home, you went looking for a bathroom.

This would prove pretty difficult. That same boy from earlier, Lucas, ate worms, and was puking in bathroom number one. The second bathroom was locked, and from the groaning and smacking inside, you could tell you didn't want to know what was going on inside.

👻This had left you with not choice but to go to the bathroom in the basement. Standing at the edge of the stairs and looking down the dark hallway, floored with rickety wooden steps, you had gathered your courage and descended.

💚Biddle had expected company, but unlike the mask he coerced Isabella into taking, or the camera he snuck in Isaac's bag, you didn't take anything. He waited for another, foolish teen to take something. He had a few items set out for specific peoples... but, he wasn't against another thief falling victim to his cursed items.

👻However, you surprised him. Just looked for the bathroom door, went, and then headed right back up to the party. When Mr. Bratt came home, the teens scattered, to cars and into the woods. Harold used this time to torment Allison, his burned, ghostly form shrieking at her. She had screamed in terror, and Isaiah soon found her.

💚You were driving home, but took pity and stopped to help a few of your classmates whose rides had fled. After several hours of dropping people off, you were finally able to get back home. A pair of pale ghostly eyes watched you from the window of your room. No one else had stopped to help their friends, much less strangers. How nice you were...

💚As days went by, and mysterious terrors afflicted the teens of Port Lawrence, you grew close to some of them. A busy body named Margot, a cheer leader named Allison, and a jock named Isaiah. All shared and English class with the new teacher (and owner of the Biddle house), Mr. Bratt. Mr. Bratt was odder at sometimes than others, almost like he was fighting with himself. He was always tired and dark eyed.

👻From deep inside, viewing the world through Mr. Bratt, Harold would observe the teens. It was just as he remembered it, the gossip, the catty looks and the fake smiles. But nothing sickened him more than watching you interact with the others, so sweet and kind, but only friends with the filth in this town.

👻On your end, you really liked Mr. Bratt. He was a funny teacher, always cracking jokes and saying something odd. He always gave you perfect grades, which was odd because you noticed you had gotten a few questions wrong when you would compare projects and assignments to classmates. Still, he was a great teacher.

💚Harold wasn't a fool. He had always been smart when he was alive, and his evil intentions had made him no less cunning. He knows he can't pursue you romantically as long as he's possessing a teacher. He'd rather not get his possession vessel arrested and sent to jail. He doesn't want his house empty, not right now.

👻When he heard you had taken up the role of a tech member for the drama department, he formed a plan. The old elevator platform to the schools abandoned basement was 'accidentally' left open, a gaping hole in the dark of the stage.

💚You unfortunately weren't aware of this, and had stayed late to finish some lighting set up. As you close up and turn out the overhead lights, the floor had felt as those it disappeared beneath you. As you plummet, you let out a pitch scream. It wasn't a long fall, not even that deep, but it hurt. Your hips and ankle were aching, throbbing, and red hot tears had begun to stream from your cheeks. You felt to scared to stand or move, but it was late. How were you supposed to get out of here?

👻As you whimpered, you heard a sound in the silence. Just then, a sound from the side. It sounded like a creaking floor panel.

"H-hello? Is someone there?" You called out fearfully. A boy, haired curly and tall looms over you. His eyes have dark circles, his face almost blends into the shadows of the basement, but... you chalk it up to blurry vision and bad lighting.

💚"Aw... how'd you end up down here?" He asked, voice low and slow as he had tilted his head. "I'm on tech crew, I fell. I think my ankle is... twisted or something. Could you help me?" She asks.

"Of course..." he drawled. His eyes darkened and a grin tugged at his cheeks as he said the next statement. "What kind of sick, sick monster would leave someone to die in a basement, all alone?" He said. You gulp and chuckle awkwardly. "Well, it's just my ankle. Don't think I'm dying." You joked.

👻"Course not. Come on." He had extended his hand to you, and hoisted you up against him with surprising strength. Despite the soft flannel shirt he was wearing, his skin felt frigid to the touch, yet oddly warm, an icey burning sensation could be felt where his hand was still on your arm.

"Should be a lever... right over-" he looks around, the snaps his fingers and points. "Right there." You had both hopped on the platform. "How'd you know how to get out of the basement, I heard it's been blocked off like, forever." She asks.

💚"I guess I just, know more than other people." He shrugs. Once he had helped you out of the school, you had gone to your car. Fidgeting with your keys, you faced away from him as you unlocked your car. "What did you say your name was?" You ask.

👻"Doesn't matter. Just a friend." When you turn to him with a confused look, he's gone. You looked around, but tired, you drove from the lot.

💚Back at the Biddle Manor, while Mr. Bratt tried to get a peaceful night of sleep without being possessed for once, Harold is in the basement, playing with the Polaroid camera Isaiah had tried so hard to destroy. He wonders, can it just take normal photos if he wills it too? He has other things to attend too, he can't always watch you, but he'd love a few pictures of you.

👻Even if the camera could only take pictures of your fate, maybe it wouldn't bother him too much. What would the future hold? Would you be with him? He hoped so, but the idea of what he could see that would displease him swayed him away from that path. No, he'll stick to watching you through Bratt, when he can, or through your windows on those precious nights you leave a curtain open.

💚As he sits in the room of his demise, he looks at his hands, black char marks occasionally appearing. For once, he doesn't focus on the burning rage and actual burning feeling that courses through his body. No, this warmth is softer. The warmth from when you touched him and he touched you. Contact, from someone who cared. Someone who he saw every private moment of, just to ensure that you had only pure intentions with everyone you met. Would you betray him if you knew, what he was like, who he was? He shakes his head. No. He holds all the cards now. He won't be weak ever again, he won't let you slip away.

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General bonus hc's:

💚Harold only wears what teens at Port Lawrence high now think of as 'grunge'. Oversized sweatshirt, flannels, loose pants. He has never once brushed his hair, even when he was alive. He doesn't hate that grunge is popular now though. He enjoy leaving a flannel or a Jean jacket in your closet, hoping you'll assume one of your parents gifted it to you.

👻You can always tell when his ghost in nearby, even if he's not visible there are tells, even if you don't realize what they are pointing too. You might feel a stinging if he passes by, a side effect of the pain from his burns. The smell of smoke and dark room chemicals fills the air if he's around, and you feel like your being watched.

💚He'd like to kiss you, or hold you, but he's not ready to even attempt that, much less a real introduction. He's got a lot going on right now. For now, you'll only see him around town, at night when your alone. At a bus stop? Oh, that mysterious boy from the other night us passing by. Buying a snack? He's got some spare cash. Walking home alone at night? Good thing his lanky silhouette can be seen leaning out from under a streetlight. Don't worry, he'll walk you home. You wouldn't believe the sort of monsters that live in this town, that lurk. It's enough to give you goosebumps...

You wonder why you always forget to ask his name...

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