#that he’ll finish this in the morning and then text me an hour before lab asking me to do what he committed to

[pallases]

now this man is telling me he can’t find his other mcu

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part 13

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

Part 13

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

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

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

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

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

You, who is now living with him.

Temporarily.

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

And the penthouse will be empty again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything else?”

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

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

“What are you smiling about?”

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

“I wasn’t smiling.”

“Right…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🌕

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

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

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

“The spices,” you reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sure,” you reply, smiling.

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

“Not at all, go ahead.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that so?”

“I mean… That smile says it all.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?” you respond, startled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. Long day tomorrow,” Miguel says.

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

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything about this unexpected change has fallen into place seamlessly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Across the multiverse.

-*-

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

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

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

“Gabriella… Gabi… No, Gabi…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Never pity from you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lyla,” Miguel says in a warning voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel sighs and breaks the silence after several minutes.

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

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

Miguel nods and looks down at his mug.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel looks at you, with a frown.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel brushes his fingers over your sweatshirt’s sleeves.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want to head upstairs?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re his best friend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel is a sight for sore eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“GOOD MORNING, SLEEPYHEADS!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You bite the inside of your cheek.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For his best friend.

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

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

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

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

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

“Off we go then!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When did you ask Gwen for bagels?”

“Earlier,” you reply with a little smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod slowly, feeling overwhelmed by this revelation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, why are you guys not in school?” Miguel asks with a frown of his own, a hint of his parental instinct coming to the surface.

“We still have some minutes,” Miles says with a shrug, smiling.

“Plus, we can easily just sneak into the building,” Pav says.

“Hobie,” you say.

“What of it? I already told them to go, but I’m not about to force them. Gotta encourage free thinking, you know?” he replies sitting next to you, giving you his signature smile.

You shake your head slightly, amused. Somewhere, you can sense the other spiderlings behind you.

“You guys interrupted a moment, you know?” Lyla says, sounding like she’s lightly scolding them.

“What moment?” Gwen asks.

“They finally admitted they’re best friends,” Lyla replies.

“Oh,” Miles replies.

“Wait, really?” Margo says.

“I could’ve sworn we all knew that already,” Gwen adds.

“I thought everybody knew that?” Pav asks, confused.

Miguel and you freeze as you look at each other, hearing everyone’s responses simultaneously. Next to you, you swear Hobie holds back from laughing, most likely for your sake, because you hear him snort. You silently decide that you’ll most definitely be talking with him later because this is the first time you’re hearing your friends admit this little piece of information.

Looking at Miguel, you can see his cheeks grow more pink. You grin at him, trying to hold back from chuckling but failing. Miguel shakes his head in amusement before chuckling lowly as well. The two of you continue to eat your breakfast as Gwen passes out bagels to everyone and soon after, everyone else joins. Peter B. with Mayday, Noir, Peni, and Spider-Ham all travel to Gwen’s universe.

“Hey, guys,” Peter B. says coming from behind, giving you and Miguel a pat on the back.

“Peter,” Miguel simply says as a greeting.

“Good morning,” you tell Peter who grins at you before he kneels between Hobie and you.

“What’s this I hear about someone finally realizing something very important?” he asks, causing Hobie to chuckle.

“Peter,” Miguel says again but this time more firmly and with a frown.

“I was talking about how -” Peter pauses, looking for something to say. “Hobie discovered he does like consistency in his bagels,” Peter finishes.

“No, I don’t,” Hobie interjects.

Miguel glares at Peter. “Right.”

“We talk later,” Peter says to you before he stands up to retrieve his bagel.

With a smile, you continue to eat yours while your friends chat all around you. Miguel and you simply stare at the skyline in silence as you eat.

“Is this okay?” you ask him, suddenly wondering if he doesn’t mind being around too much people this early after the night he had but Miguel nods.

“It’s… More than okay,” he replies honestly, staring at the tall buildings. “It hasn’t been a lonely morning.”

You nod slowly, understanding what he’s saying. His mornings after nightmares are usually spent alone until he gets to HQ.

“The chaos is nice,” he adds, looking at you now. He gives you a soft smirk.

“It is nice,” you reply, agreeing.

Miguel nods and looks at the sky, at the sun rising. It really is nice. And it feels new.

“I was thinking… Could you help me with something?” Miguel asks quietly.

You finish taking a drink from your coffee and nod. “Of course, what is it?”

Miguel turns to look at you. The spider gang is behind the two of you arguing about whose bagel is the best and Miguel wonders why they’re arguing about that when most of them should head to school. “I was thinking that the penthouse has been the same for many, many years. Decoration wise,” he starts. “I don’t really have the best experience with it. My mom and Gabriel were the ones that decorated it to begin with, actually, but I think it’s time for a little change.”

You smile. “And you would like for me to…”

“Help me make good decoration decisions. Your apartment - I really like it,” Miguel admits. “It always feels so warm and welcoming. Maybe you can give me some hints to make the place like that…”

“I’d be more than happy to.”

“Really?” Miguel says, for some reason sounding surprised.

“Really! When we get home, you can tell me what you’d like and we can make a mood board. Does that sound good?”

Miguel freezes for a moment.

‘When we get home...’

“Yes, that’s - that sounds great,” Miguel replies at last, nodding. He takes a sip of coffee, trying to ignore his thoughts on your words and instead focusing on the changes he’d like to make around the penthouse. One of his favorite parts of your apartment is your wall with photographs, something he lacks in his own home, but with this upcoming redecorating, Miguel thinks about how he’d like to have pictures of Gabriella and Gabriel around the place. He glances subtly at you. There’s also a lot of photos of you and him. He’d like to add those, too. Miguel stores the idea for later, for when the two of you get back to the penthouse, back home, and talk about it. For now, he focuses on the sounds of the city and your friends, who are still going on about the bagels.

He’s tempted to tell them you and him have the best ones just to fuel them but he decides against it, and just listens to them, enjoying the light bickering.

You eventually head to HQ to work. It’s an easy Friday with no missions involving anomalies. Just like you told yourself earlier, you stay near Miguel for the rest of the day, something he notices. You spend the day with him in the lab, working on your own things and talk occasionally. Of course, Lyla joins in on the conversations.

It’s no surprise that by four in the afternoon, the two of you are sluggish from the night you’ve had. Miguel looks at the time. You’ve both had coffee and food but the lack of sleep is definitely hitting the two of you at this point in the day and with one simple request to Lyla, Miguel learns that you slept far less than you made it seem this morning. He makes the decision then, to leave HQ earlier than he has in a long time.

“I’m almost done organizing this,” you tell him as you organize a drawer, your face showing your exhaustion. It tells Miguel the two of you definitely need to go now.

“That can wait for Monday.”

“I can come with you tomorrow.”

“Monday. Let’s go. I’m going to cook something that you’ll really like, I think,” he says, nodding to the lab’s door.

And so, upon reaching the penthouse, Miguel tells you to go and get comfortable. To go rest for a bit while he cooks but you end up changing into lounge clothes and joining him. You play music from his record player while he cooks some chilaquiles, a traditional Mexican dish, and one that never fails to cheer Miguel up.

After dinner, and a shower for Miguel, the two of you find yourselves in the living room again. With your tablet in hand, you start creating a mood board for Miguel’s place as he tells you about his ideas. The two of you sit on the floor once again, close to each other, so you can show him your screen and what you’re putting together for him. And while you work on that, the telenovela from the previous night, plays in the background.

---

Next Part Translations: telenovela - Latin TV soap opera Ave María Purísima - Hail Mary Most Pure, conceived without sin; Palmarian greeting Perdóname - Forgive me Hija - Daughter por favor - Please Lo siento mucho, mija - I'm so sorry, my daughter ternura - endearment, tenderness canelita - hot cinnamon tea pan dulce - sweet Mexican bread garibaldis - a kind of pan dulce Dia de los Muertos - Day of the Dead café de olla - coffee made in a pot (really craving this right now; running on three hours of sleep lol) Vamos - Let's go/ Come on tio - uncle chilaquiles - traditional Mexican dish, usually served for breakfast but it can be eaten for any meal of the day; consists of fried corn tortillas cut into quarters drizzled with a sauce and fresh cheese and accompanied with other sides like fried eggs and beans; my favorite dish; the way to my heart after tacos de asada --- Hi, guys!! I hope you're all doing well :) I'm sorry for how long it took me to update. I blinked and February just went by?? It's crazy 😭 it's already March! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter despite the sad bits. I really wanted Miguel to talk about his past and Gabriella, to take another step for him to heal. 🥺 I also took some liberty around the canon theory. I genuinely don't believe in it or that Miguel being in Gabriella's universe was the cause for the collapse. Maybe I'm wrong but it really doesn't make sense to me, so I decided to go this route. I feel like the real cause is going to be so obvious, and probably preventable in the end since the Society has been successful in saving some universes already but that's just my humble opinion! I want to give some shoutouts and credit now! @gxdoesstuff suggested (a while back) the idea of Miguel having a scarf in the lab with reader's scent to comfort him when he's stressed out! I've been waiting to include it since the New Year's one-shot and finally incorporated it!! It was so cute to think about and I loved the little interactions that came from it!! Thank you!! Also, shoutout to @desb3ar for the idea on Miguel putting a pillow inside reader's sweatshirt based on this post she made!! I've been thinking about this for months and wanted to include it and have reader see it, so I had to be patient for this part of the story🤭 Thank you, Des!! Just thinking about how Miguel probably imagines hugging reader! (I'm okay, not 😭) Also, shoutout to my friend @faretheeoscar - the garibaldis and chilaquiles mention was for you! I'm really craving both now tbh 😩 and to have Miguel make chilaquiles? Sign me up, ASAP!!! Can we just talk about how many steps Miguel took here? He admitted they're BEST FRIENDS!!! I'm so proud of Miguel for real!! 😭 And the way they're now watching a telenovela and going to redecorate his place! Fanservice... for me🧍🏻‍♀️... For anyone curious, the telenovela I was talking about is called Destilando Amor. I started rewatching it just for this chapter and then I just kept going lol, it had me giggling and everything! They really don't make them like they used to 😔 Anyway, I had little sleep so I think I'm rambling now. Went to sleep at 4am and woke up at 8 to finish this, but I'm so so happy to update!! I hope you guys enjoyed it!! Thank you for reading, and I hope March is treating you well so far!!! 😊❤️ -Alondra tag list: @loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp @rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi

@loveletterfrommwah @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze @yujyujj @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea @moonsua1 @darksidescorner@geminis93 @1800-get-alife @hrrtkreuz @oharasfilipinawife @dropyoursocksandgrabyourcrocss @may4ri @t4naiis @f1-hoff @llumetrii

[egg-on-the-run]

I got my first proper request and I literally accidentally deleted it. Am I stupid? Yes. Did I immediately panic? Yes. Do I remember what was on it?........ mostly.

Haha anon I hope you see this I'm so sorry but ily.

The turtles s/o who's usually very calm but just bursts into anger.

Notes: swearing :) I think it's funny

Leonardo:

He's used to a very calm s/o, you like to meditate together, he's always been good with helping you with breathing exercises.

You both like to keep arguments to a minimum, and even when fights do take place there isn't a lot of yelling

But when your mother came to visit :) that was just :) a lot of pressure :)

And she stayed in your apartment :) for a week :) everything was fine :)

Leonardo hadn't seen you for an entire week, not an overly long time, but certainly not pleasant. And he knew that you got stressed when you couldn't see him often. So as soon as you texted saying you had dropped your mother off at the airport, he immediately came round.

You were already screaming the moment you walked in the door.

"Oh she has some nerve! Some nerve! Speaking to me like that!"

"I'm guessing you're car ride went smoothly."

"She's been bugging me all week! When are you getting married? When are you have kids? I want some grand babies before I die! Ugh! She's obsessed with maintaining this perfect image all because her friend's kids are married and making babies like rabbits!"

He stayed quiet, not exactly sure how to comfort you. It wasn't like he could provide you with these things, and by the sounds of it, your mother would never approve of your huge turtle boyfriend.

"She just can't get that I'm happy! I have my own life and it's perfect the way I want it to be! I have a perfect boyfriend! You're a fucking delight! She–she's just so obsessed with her image that she'd never get that!"

"You... You think so?"

"I know so! She's too stubborn and she'll never get how fucking great you are and it just— UGH! It fries my brain."

"Even though I... I can't give you all those things... I can't legally marry you, we can't have kids."

"Even if you could give me a mansion and a diamond ring, or if all you could give me was a-a fucking walnut! I love you Leonardo, not that prim and proper white satin wedding she's made a thousand Pinterest boards for. I love you, I just wish she would get it."

Leonardo leaned down and kissed your cheek

"I love you too."

He believed in dealing with anger appropriately, but seeing you defend him with such passion made him feel so much more secure.

Raphael:

He's seen you angry before, he encouraged it. He's all about helping you with your confidence, teaching you to not be afraid to take up space and stand up for yourself.

But holy cow. You were mad that night.

He'd warned you not to take the trash out at night, wait to the morning — or better yet, he'll take it out for you when he came to visit after patrol.

But you are Raphael's girl. You are stubborn.

So you take the trash out, and some absolute creep decides that "flirting" in a dark alleyway in the key to a girl's heart.

Raphael swooped in, told the man to scram. But bold and drunk, the man spits back with a "Oh yeah? And would she want anything to do with a freak like you? What are you gonna do? Hit me? Aw, big angry turtle, you're gonna scare your girlfriend away."

It was two of his biggest insecurities. His appearance and his rage, especially in regards to scaring you away. It was a low blow, Raphael should have known to just walk away.

But he clammed up, he'd never admit when his anxiety got the best of him and you don't blame him.

"Oh go fuck yourself. If a vile man like you doesn't scare me, why the hell do you think a good man like him would?"

"A good man? He's not a fucking man! He's some freaky turtle thing, a pretty little thing like you deserves a real man."

"And are you a real man?"

"More real than your little pet."

The next thing you knew, the man was on the ground. You assumed Raphael knocked him out, but Raph's standing behind you and you're the one with your hand in a fist.

"Oh my god. Oh–Oh Raphie I knocked him out! O-Oh my god!"

"Holy shit Y/N! You probably broke his nose!" Raphael is grinning, shaking your shoulders.

"I didn't mean to hurt him."

"He deserves a broken nose at the least for messing with you! He was an asshole and he needed someone like you to set him straight!"

"I, um, well, I suppose he did! Saying such horrible things about you, I-I guess he did need someone to put him in his place."

Raphael ruffled your hair, "Thank you, my knight in shining armour."

"That make you my Prince?"

"Your Prince who was right about not taking the trash out at night."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

He appreciated you standing up for him more than you could imagine. And he found it mighty hot how hard you hit that guy. Seriously! He must be a good self defence teacher.

Donatello:

Donatello loves you so much, loves holding you and hugging you whenever he can. He adores it when you sit on his lap while he works.

But do you like to cuddle when you sleep? Tough luck. Getting him to bed is like trying to lick your own elbow: near impossible.

Regardless, you try. Because every once in a while Donatello is too tired to fight and he will go to bed.

Tonight is not one of those nights.

"Baby, please, just come to bed. Everyone's already asleep."

"I'll be there in a minute, just go on without me."

You sigh, not really seeing the point in fighting. Instead you return to his bed, trying to keep yourself awake playing games on your phone. When half an hour passes, you go back and try again.

"Donnie come on, aren't you tired? I just want to cuddle."

"I just need to put some stuff on a hard drive, April's writing a new article, she needs it for tomorrow."

You sigh once more, "Promise you'll come to bed right after?"

"I promise."

Donatello's bed is comfortable, but it's more comfortable with him in. You force yourself to stay awake; despite your exhaustion you're determined to cuddle tonight. It's all you want.

But it did not take an hour to put some documents onto a hard drive. And he's being awfully loud for just typing away on a computer.

"Are you fucking joking right now?!"

He jumps, almost dropping the box of beakers in his arms, "Hey love... Can't sleep?"

"You're rearranging your lab?! Why are you—since when do you rearrange things, huh? What the hell?!"

"I just y'know, thought things needed a change..?"

"Oh, and now is the time to change things, really? Of all the times to move your fucking beakers you decide to do it in the middle of the night after I specifically asked you to come to bed? Seriously?"

He gives a nervous grin, the kind that usually made you smile in return. But it was late — rather it was early at this point — and you were cranky.

"You can sleep without me, you're a big girl." He teased.

"I want to sleep with my boyfriend! I want to cuddle! Is that so much to ask for?!"

Donatello blinked, "You're right, I'm sorry, but I swear, I promise, I'll be ten minutes, honest."

"You can finish this tomorrow. If you're not in bed in the next ten seconds, I am going to scream and wake everyone else up."

"Don't be ridiculous—"

"Ten."

Donatello jumped, quickly moving to shove supplies in cupboards a little recklessly. You continued to count down from ten, storming off back to his bed for hopefully the finally time this night.

By the time you got to the very firm "Three... Two... One..." Donatello was racing to bed, dived in beside you, crashing and knocking your heads together.

He'd never tell you, for fear you'd let it get to your head, but he kind of liked it when you got bossy.

Michelangelo:

Anger and Michelangelo just don't mix. They just don't. He's the king of communication, he's tries his hardest to avoid fights at any and all costs. You've always appreciated his determination to talk things out with you.

But with his brothers? He shuts down, he goes quiet and just accepts whatever blame they put on him: he knows they don't mean it, they only say mean things when they're angry.

But it hurts, hearing his big brothers tell him he's stupid, that he's childish, that he's lackadaisical.

"What kind of word even is that?! I swear Donnie must read a thesaurus as a bedtime story.."

So he's allowed to complain, and you let him ramble when he comes to visit. He sits on your bed and the words just tumble out of his mouth, lets you move around the room tidying up while he rants.

"I just—Raph keeps calling me stupid. And I just—I-I just—You know, sometimes I believe it."

You freeze, sweater only half folded and turn to him, "But you're not stupid. Just because you're not some brainiac like Donatello doesn't make you stupid. If that was the case, then I'm stupid, Raph's stupid, April, Leo, Splinter is stupid. Do you think we're all stupid?"

"Well—no, but—"

"But what?"

"But I... I am a little stupid."

"No you're not! Mikey, how many times has you out of the box thinking saved the day? Y-You were the one who suggested playing friggen buck-buck to take down Shredder! Y-Your skateboarding—hoverboarding skills saved the world. You think your brothers could do that?"

Mikey scrunched his nose up, "That's not smart though. They're right. My-my focus is all over the place, I-I could never come up with a plan like Leo, I could never have half the brains Donnie has, and Raph just—he gets things that I don't and I-I am stupid!"

"I need to have a word with your brothers—"

"And that's another thing! Everyone still treats me like I'm some kid! I don't need you to have a word with them! You're not my mom."

"Then you have a word with them! But sitting here and complaining about things that just aren't true isn't going to change anything!"

He's taken aback. Much like himself, you hardly ever yell, never ever raise your voice at him.

"I am not going to stand here and let them insult you day in and day out! Either you do something about it, or I will!"

He blinks at you, you're aggressively folding the sweater in your arms and grumbling about how you could definitely take Raphael in a fist fight if need be. You mumble something about how nobody gets to speak to your boyfriend like that, and it finally clicks with Mikey.

"Alright. I'm going to talk to them," He's mostly talking to himself, "I'm going to show them that I'm not some stupid, ditzy, lackadaisical kid anymore. I'm your boyfriend, and nobody gets to speak with me that way!"

You beam at him, anger disappearing within the second with his newfound confidence, "Hell yeah! Nobody insults my boyfriend!"

"Your boyfriend!"

"My boyfriend!"

"Your boyfriend!"

His brothers' version of a wake up call is to point out his weaknesses, tell him what needs to be corrected. But you much prefer to build him up, point out his strengths.

But jeez, he does not like your angry face.

[yourmcu]

Natalie

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Stark!reader (platonic), Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Summary:

You met Natasha for the first time while she was undercover as Natalie. You’re not overly fond of how your first meeting went.

Word count: 1,390

Warnings: none (that means fluff)

gif not mine! credits to the owner^^

“How was the field trip, Miss Stark?”

"Good actually, just feeling a bit under the weather,” you sniffle while the front door slides close behind you. “It was probably the heavy air conditioning on the bus.”

You drop your duffel bag beside the couch while Jarvis reassures you that somebody will get you a hot meal to make you feel better. You had gotten back in the early hours of the morning so Pepper and even Tony would still be asleep, and you're already sure Happy is going to be upset when he finds out you took the bus home instead of calling him.

You go to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and sit down by the kitchen island. It’s almost six, anyone would wake up soon. So you just sit there trying to deal with your headache.

Natasha is always up early ever since she got the position as an assistant for Stark’s company. As much as possible she keeps the snooping around to a minimal, or makes sure to finish the tasks Pepper gave her first before looking out for Tony to see what he was up to.

She had seen a framed photo of you and Tony in the living room. She immediately wondered who you were, seeing as the public doesn’t fully know Tony Stark had a child, and if Fury knew about you. She casually brought it up when both her and Pepper were working though: “Tony’s daughter. Y/N doesn’t like to be in the spotlight that much.”

When Jarvis notifies her that “Miss Stark has arrived and could use some soup.”, she puts her paperwork aside and strides out of the room. Natasha doesn’t trust this whole daughter thing. Tony Stark is a busy - and a reckless man, he doesn’t have time for one, at least, that’s what she thinks. Maybe she’s a child prodigy he hired or something, or possibly an agent.

You raise your head a bit when you hear the clopping of heals, feeling very much relieved that Pepper’s awake - except it isn’t Pepper.

Her movements are swift as she enters the room. She clutches her clipboard at her side as she got a good look at you. Huh. I thought she’d be much younger.

“Uh, hello,” you say awkwardly, eyes flicking from her, to your side, and at the door. Oh god, dad’s having one night stands again. You thought for sure he'll end up with Pepper. This woman looks like a reporter, except she managed to dress herself unlike-

“Do you have a soup preference?”

“What?” You blink. You don’t like it when your father sleeps with women who wander around the house in the morning. When they see you they want to take photos, sometimes an interview when you were still in your pajamas. But this one is asking you what kind of soup you like. Maybe she’s hungover? “The... uh, the exit’s down the hall on the left, I can ring a driver if you need a ride, if you want,”

You really wish Tony or Pepper would walk in now.

“What gave you the impression that I want to leave?”

Something about the way she said that made an alarm go off inside you. You want nothing more than to run. “Okay, I’m-” you get up, taking your water bottle with you. You try to avoid her gaze because it follows you until you're at the door. “I’m just gonna... just gonna go.” And you sprint away.

You head to Tony’s lab and enter your code when you see him working on an old red car. “Dad,” you breathe out and his eyes light up when he sees you.

“Hey bud, when did you get home?” His breath reeks of alcohol and it isn’t surprising that he's getting no sleep again.

“The reporter you mingled with is still here and she doesn’t want to leave.”

“Reporter?”

“Yes, reporter, or I don’t know... whatever her occupation is,” you raise your voice a bit. “You know I can’t do anything about when you - when you take someone home-”

Tony stops his fidgeting. “That’s none of your business.”

“Okay fine, sorry, but-”

“Look, I’m sure you’ve had a rough trip back,” he gets up and wipes his hands. “But there’s not a single reporter, or whatever you’re talking about, here. Let’s go, I’m sure Natalie has breakfast ready.”

Natalie?

You open your mouth to object but Tony already has an arm around you and leads you out of his workplace. You’re only gone for a few weeks, curse them for not bothering to shoot you a text or something, just so that you're informed with everything that’s been going on-

“Mr. Stark?” That same, gentle but almost kind of robotic voice speaks. Well, that’s how you’d describe the red-headed stranger. You scoot closer to Tony when she came to view. “Miss Potts has specifically ordered me to tell you not to disturb her today. She’s very busy. Can I get both of you anything?”

You feel your lips part slowly, gaping at the two adults.

“I’m gonna go shower, you can assist Y/N here to whatever she needs,” Tony replies absentmindedly and walks away.

The man forgot you had no idea who the woman is and what she's doing here. “Who... who are you?” You turn to face her after you watchs your dad walk away and is now out of view.

“Natalie Rushman,” she replies matter-of-factly.

“But who - wait, why... what?”

Natasha could tell you really are Tony’s daughter and now found your confusion amusing. She decides to fill you in on everything that happened while you were away.

“Pepper’s CEO?! Hang on, I have to go see her-” But she gently places a hand on your shoulder.

“She doesn’t want to be disturbed today.”

“...right.”

After that interaction the both of you became close. You warmed up to her, and despite Natasha still being undercover she became softer around you, thinking you wouldn’t be able to put the pieces together and figure out what she was really doing here.

You’d ask her for advice, help for homework sometimes, talk about random shit, it was great.

Every time you both had the chance to talk you’d ask her random questions, they’d always leave you speculating.

“Dad said you modeled in Tokyo,” you point out one day while she’s filing paperwork and you had nothing better to do. “Why didn’t you pursue it? You know, modeling?”

She could’ve pursued being a boxer or something too, Happy also told you about the time she flipped him over in the boxing ring. You couldn’t imagine why she’d choose being an assistant over the other cool ones.

Natasha just glances at you for a moment and shrugs, returning to the task at hand. “It wasn’t my thing.”

But what made you upset? The day she left. You just built this bond with her, a friendship, and you didn’t see any reason why she had to leave. No one had any complaints with her, so why?

You ask Tony after him and Rhodey were honored in Washington. “Did you fire Ms. Rushman?”

“Sorry?” Tony removes his sunglasses hastily.

“I was just wondering why Natalie doesn’t work for you anymore.”

“Natasha.” He corrects.

Your eyebrows furrow as you look at him, “wh-”

“I didn’t fire her, kid,” he sighs. “But something tells me we’re gonna see her again soon.”

And you did, two years later.

-----

bonus:

“C’mon, Nat, stop,” you drag out after you leapt onto her and tried to cover her mouth. “It’s not funny!”

“And then - and then Y/N gave me this look when I walked in - oh god, she looked so creeped out, then-”

The room fills with laughter from the other avengers but the loudest ones were coming from Sam and Clint. She told them the story a few times and it still never gets old.

 “I still can’t believe you thought she was one of Tony’s flings,” Sam wipes a tear from his eye. “God, that’s gold!”

When she finishes, Natasha pulls you closer and tilts her head when she sees the pout on your face. “Aww, are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“I know you are,” oh no. She put on the voice she uses whenever she’s about to do something you didn’t like. Without warning, her hands go to your sides, tickling you mercilessly.

“NAT!”

[cosmicpines]

code july day 1 - future

au where jeremie's anti-xana program didn't work, taking place half a year after.

“Do’ya think we should start future-proofing our whole situation?” Odd was the first one to speak out loud in at least a half an hour, his voice echoing around the computer lab.

It was late. Not just “it’s a school night, we should turn off the Playstation” late, but “sunrise is in an hour” late. Ulrich, Jeremie, and Aelita were crowded on the couch – a fairly new addition to the lab that William and Odd had dragged over a mile to the factory after finding it on the street, a several-hour long affair that left them both sore for a week – blearily staring at chunky school-loaned laptop screens with piles of overdue library books on the floor in front of them. Odd and William were across the room, hunched over an oversized posterboard, surrounded by an accoutrement of Odd’s art supplies and printed out sheets of paper. What was keeping them up was potentially world-ending, but not in the usual way; instead of an evil AI, it was a history project due at 10 AM.

It wasn’t entirely their fault they didn’t start earlier – saving the world was a full-time job, afterall – but it’s not like they could give an excuse to Mr. Fumet that he would have believed. As the clock ticked over to 4, the prospect of having to pull the trigger on a return trip to finish loomed over them. They had already done it once, blearily uploading PowerPoint slides to the supercomputer to save them, giving Yumi an apologetic phone call in the morning. She was used to the disorienting resets at this point, having done them for half a year after graduating and moving across the country, but they usually texted ahead of time to warn her. She was sympathetic over the phone – she always was – but she was definitely irritated about having to retake an exam. They didn’t want to put her through that again and, besides, they couldn’t exactly keep the poster board from getting erased to time.

“Future-proofing the fact half of us might fail history?” Ulrich grumbled in response from across the room, leaning against the armrest of the couch. His eyes were glazed over in a stupor as he clicked idly around on the screen.

“Ulrich, are you done with your slides yet?” Aelita spat at him, now that the silent spell was broken, “I want to start stitching them together.”

“Uh… no.” Ulrich glanced at her, subtly turning his screen away from her piercing gaze, “Gimme ten more minutes? I’m almost there.”

Aelita clicked her tongue, probably remembering the last promise of the slides “in ten minutes.” She turned to her left and nudged Jeremie, “How about you – oh my god, Jeremie, can you focus?”

“Huh?” He looked up, and guiltly alt-tabbed back to a blank PowerPoint slide. “Sorry, I was just… I had a breakthrough about the bug in the Skid and I was…” He trailed off under her glare, “Sorry.”

Aelita clutched the side of her head, groaning. “Is it too late to go back to living on Lyoko where I don’t have to care about World War I and don’t need sleep?”

“Me too, thanks.” William muttered at Odd’s side, aggressively erasing a sentence on the poster, “Being XANA’s slave was less painful than this.”

He let out a bitter laugh, then raised his head, half smirk fading at the frozen-in-terror looks on his friend’s faces, “Sorry. Too soon?”

Odd, as he so often did, interrupted the awkward silence before people could make it worse, “Future-proofing us, is what I meant. Thanks for asking!” Nobody humored him as the typing across the room started back up and William started writing again, “Look, I’m just saying; we’re not getting any younger.” He brandished a red marker, filling in bubble letters on the top of the poster, “Yumi graduated. We’ve only got a semester left at Kadic –,”

“Could just all repeat a year like I did.” William grimaced. “And might again.”

Ulrich snorted, “Odd and I are probably on track for that.”

“Cheers,” William said, raising his pencil like a glass, without looking up, “Join the failure club.”

“BUT,” Odd interrupted, “Assuming we don’t! Because this presentation is going to be incredible,” That one earned a snort from everyone in the room (which was fair), “We’ll need someone who can do our jobs if we have to leave the good fight. Lyoko Warriors, the Next Generation! Kadic’s Next Top Lyoko Warriors!” He chuckled at himself, standing up, “We should put an ad in the paper: ‘Want a challenging, world-altering job? Come down to the abandoned factory!’” He hummed to himself, tapping his chin, “Our criteria would have to be strict. Can you imagine getting someone like, I dunno, Johnny? So, Johnny. Please, tell me: what’s your greatest fear? Giant crabs, you say? Why yes, that’s both oddly specific and also a dealbreaker. Next!”

Odd looked up, laughing, waiting for his friends to join in – Ulrich telling him he was being dumb, Aelita offering some other students and joking with him about their interviews, William making a snide remark about how he didn’t get an interview, a silent, but appreciative smirk from Jeremie – but got nothing. Jeremie’s head was buried in his laptop, and Aelita was – Aelita was glaring at him?

“What?” He asked her, but she said nothing, just raised an eyebrow in a you know what’s wrong look. Odd clearly didn’t, and turned to Ulrich for a clue, but Ulrich wasn’t giving him anything; he was just back to sulking, staring at his laptop. Odd ran through what he said again in his head, trying to find the offending phrase, when William punched him in the leg. “Hey –,” Odd started, ready to give a snappy retort, before seeing William was urgently tapping at the poster, where he’d just written something. Odd crouched down to read it.

you’re upsetting jeremie.

Odd glanced back at Einstein across the room, whose face was impassive, just typing away. Looking closer, though, he could see Jeremie had all the appearances of someone trying valiantly to pretend they weren’t upset – hunched shoulders, scrunched up face, not a single glance away from the screen. Aelita had stopped glaring to put a hand on Jeremie’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off.

Ugh. Odd sighed, wondering if he would have to apologize for just trying to lighten the mood. How was anything he said upsetting to Jeremie? He reached over for a pencil to respond to William, scribbling down on the poster.

Can’t he take a joke?

idk. Guess he thinks you’re blaming him.

Blaming him?? For what???? bro when did I even say anything like that??

you didn’t. don’t bro me bro. not my fault

Odd underlined his first bro, giving William a smile. William rolled his eyes before rubbing out their conversation with an eraser. Odd turned back to his coloring job and took a breath, surprised to see it come in shaky. It’s not your fault he’s upset, he thought to himself, pulling the cap off his marker. It’s fine. He leaned over to finish his coloring before noticing his hands were shaking. He clenched them, angrily. It wasn’t his fault Jeremie was upset. He was fine. Not his fault if Jeremie wanted to over-react. He’ll get over it and… where were the scissors?

He dug around their supplies for them, then, picking up a pile of pictures of historic figures, streaked from the bad library printer, took a pair of trembling scissors to extracting them. They were nearly done. One more section and they’d be done. One more and they could go to bed and Jeremie would get over whatever he was upset about and it was fine and it would all go away and it was fine it wasn’t his fault and –

“I’m working as hard as I can,” Odd felt a bit in his stomach open up as Jeremie spoke in a quiet, bitter voice. Odd stared pointedly down at the poster, blinking rapidly to try and assuage the pressure building behind his eyes, “I know we screwed up by not finishing before Yumi graduated, okay? I’m just… It’s a lot to figure out and I’m trying?! Is that not enough for – No. No, I know it’s not enough – I know I’m keeping us from having a normal life and it’s my fault William had to repeat a year and… and I –,” Jeremie’s breath caught, and Odd finally dared to turn his eyes to him, seeing his friend aggressively rubbing his eyes under his glasses, “I – I don’t mean to – look! It’s hard, alright?! It’s hard and I – I’m just so tired all the time and I’m sorry that we’re still awake for this too and that I –,” His voice finally broke as he started crying in earnest, his fist coming down on the side of the couch. Odd wanted to turn back to his work and brush it off, but the guilt clenching his stomach wasn’t letting go.

Hesitantly, Aelita put her hand on his shoulder again, “Jeremie…” but he shook it off again, turning away from her. She persisted. “It’s not your fault. We know you’re working –,”

“And it’s not enough! I’ve been working at this for years and I just I can’t come up with anything to defeat XANA –,”

“You had a lot of other things you needed to do first.”

He didn’t mean to, Odd was sure, but Ulrich’s eyes flickered to William for just a moment, and William’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh, are we doing this now?” William grumbled, dropping his pencil. “Jeremie, you’re fine. Look, I’m sorry. Again. You don’t think I don’t regret every moment that I didn’t listen like a fucking idiot –” Jeremie, despite being wracked with tears, winced at the swear, earning a brief hint of a smile from Odd, “ – and got myself captured? Who then was a thorn in your asses for months? No. I get it. You’d probably be rid of XANA already if it wasn’t for me; you’ve made that crystal clear.”

“That’s not what I –,” Aelita glared at him, “You of all people should understand that I would never blame you for being trapped on Lyoko.”

“It’s not you that is. It’s him.” He jerked his thumb at Ulrich, who glared back at him.

“I’m not,” Ulrich muttered, “Cut it out.”

“Oh yeah? What did that look mean then, huh?”

“I didn’t –,”

“You blame me, and we all know it. You’re just butt-hurt over Yumi still, even though you had plenty of chances –,”

“Okay, that’s it.” Ulrich sat up straighter, “Maybe you’re still using Yumi as a scapegoat in all our arguments, but I’m done with that. Maybe I was an ass to you before because of her, but I don’t blame you for XANA, William. I never have. I was over it before you even joined,” He scowled at the ground, Jeremie’s crying filling the brief silence. “It was probably my fault you got captured in the first place. I wasn’t there because I had to talk to my stupid Dad and it was my job to tell Odd and I didn’t make sure – hell, even before that! Who was it that couldn’t protect Aelita back when XANA escaped from the supercomputer in the first place? If she hadn’t been alone, the Scyphozoa wouldn’t have gotten her, and XANA wouldn’t have escaped, and we would have been done.”

“Come on,” Aelita crossed her arms, turning away from Jeremie to the boy on her other side, “You’re being ridiculous. Half of that isn’t your fault.”

Odd wanted to chime in that it was Sam’s fault she didn’t listen to Ulrich, but his voice was still missing in action, his throat tight and unresponsive.

“I should have been able to protect myself,” Aelita continued, “It wasn’t your responsibility –,”

Jeremie laughed suddenly, hurt and bitter, “Protect yourself how? You couldn’t protect yourself because I was dragging my feet on giving you a proper weapon –,”

“We’ve talked about this!” She said, “We agreed it was more worth your time to work on an antivirus!”

“For a virus that didn’t exist! If I had just double checked –,”

“Double checked what? The faulty data you were being fed? There was nothing you could have done! If you want to blame anyone, blame me. Maybe it – maybe helping me made sense at first, when things were able to be stopped at a moment’s notice. But then even when you got me to Earth it wasn’t over, and things got worse, things got more dangerous – when we realized XANA could escape? That we couldn’t just turn it off with a switch? That – that should have been it.” Her voice dropped as she took a shaky breath, “You should have just let me turn the supercomputer off.”

“You were ALWAYS worth the risk, Aelita!” Odd finally snapped, terror shooting through his heart at the broken look on her face, the implications of her words, “You… you matter to us more than anything! Look, I’m sorry for bringing this all up, alright? I thought we could just joke around about running Lyoko Warrior interviews! I didn’t mean to get everyone upset. And speaking of! Jeez! All of you are such downers on yourselves! There’s like, a billion different things that could have happened!” He held out a hand, ticking them off, “Maybe William might not have gotten captured and instead XANA got Yumi or anyone else! Maybe, I dunno, Ulrich saved Aelita temporarily but then XANA tossed him in the digital sea! Maybe Jeremie could have noticed that Aelita didn’t have a virus sooner, and XANA just made a move sooner! Maybe – maybe – maybe if you had just let Kiwi be virtualized normally and not fuse with me he would have been a great Lyoko Warrior and would have bit the Scyphozoa and killed XANA! We don’t know, alright? I’m just trying to say that – ugh, forget it! Sorry! Jeez!”

Odd rubbed at his eyes, surrendering to the frustrated and exhausted stream of tears that leaked out of them. All of them, all of this – he kept trying to play superhero, to pretend that everything was going to be alright like in the movies, but in his heart he had to admit that this was starting to feel futile. Aelita’s virus, XANA’s escape from the supercomputer, William’s capture, Jeremie’s first botched attempt at his anti-XANA program, Franz Hopper’s sacrifice, Yumi’s graduation, their failure to stop space station from falling, Jeremie’s second anti-XANA program getting stolen by the AI, and now the looming threat of their own graduation… he wanted to be joking about needing to interview new Lyoko Warriors, really, but if graduation took them away from the factory… away from each other…

A hand landed on his shoulder, he realized he didn’t need to know who it was to press his own on top of it, to squeeze it and feel loved, as more hands, more friends, found their way to his other shoulder, to his back.

“I’m sorry, Jeremie,” he said, “And everyone else. I didn’t mean to –,”

“Don’t,” came a muttered reply from Jeremie, “We’re all acting tired and stupid. I shouldn’t have yelled. I knew you didn’t mean it.”

Odd let out an exhausted laugh, rubbing his eyes of the last of the tears, looking up and seeing his friends around him, “How late is it?”

“Too late,” Ulrich replied, pulling his phone out of his pocket, “We’ve got… three hours until classes start.”

A collective groan broke the spell over the room. Odd looked under his feet to the almost-finished-poster. Silently, all of them returned to their working positions. Odd kneeled down to finish gluing down the last of the faces to the poster. As the lull of busy work started taking over his mind, William nudged him.

“Sorry, I, uh…” William looked uncharacteristically bewildered, “This must have happened while I was – did you say Kiwi fused with you?”

[santigarcia]

Kissing Kitten 😽

Human Touch Part Nine

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight

word count: 1.6k

rating: M for smut, dirty talk, mentions of daddy kink, phone sex, sexual situations (pls don’t read unless ur 18+!)

summary: Nathan leaves for a business trip and you stay at home, but he finds ways to take care of you even when he’s gone. 

a/n: thank you all so much for reading this series! let me know what yall think! thank you to @punkpascal and @sergeantkane as always!! and to @aellynera for yelling at me to post on time!! there’s only one more part after this! if you’ve read all these i really appreciate you!! 

For the first time since the wedding, Nathan has left the compound. He has a business meeting with the board of Bluebook. He’s preparing to launch his latest tech. The smart home device he’s been working on, Etta. You’d have gone with him, but you wanted to let him work. He wanted your company, but he also knew he’d be working, and you’d spend a lot of time alone.

He texts you though, especially during the board meetings. Begging you for a nude selfie.

“Kitten, I already saw that one,” he’d text back. He wants you to take a new one. You play along, but that’s when you get an idea.

You send him a text: Sugar daddy wanted.

He’s quick to write back: Sugar daddy acquired.

You can’t help but giggle when you see his response. You’re curled up in bed, wearing one of his shirts. Because of the time difference, it’s bedtime for you but the afternoon for him.

Text: I’m so bored daddy.

Reply: You need someone to take care of you Kitten?

Text: Please?

Reply: There’s a box in the closet baby, go get it.

You push back the blankets as you step out of the bed with piqued curiosity. You open the closet to see a box the size of a shoebox. Your name is written on the top in Nathan’s all caps handwriting. With the box in hand, you go back over to the bed to see a new text from Nathan telling you not to open it until he gets back to his hotel room.

You want to open it now, but you know he’ll know somehow if you did. So, you slide under the blankets again and drift off. You might as well nap before he’s done with his meeting.

Your phone rings a few hours later, and it’s a facetime call. Happily, you answer to see your husband’s face.

“Hey kitten,” he smiles. He’s leaning back against the headboard of his bed. His shirt is off, and he looks damp from a fresh shower.

“Hi baby,” you smile and turn on a bedside lamp.

“Did I wake you?” he frowns slightly.

“Yes, but it’s ok, I miss you!”

“I miss you kitten,” he rubs his hand over his head. “This shit is so boring.”

You laugh. “How’s it going though?”

“Fine.” He pauses and looks down over the rim of his glasses. “Did you open the box?”

“No,” you smile, holding it up. “You told me not to!”

“Good girl. Open it,” he nods.

Inside the small box are a few objects. The first thing you notice right away is a dildo. You hold it up and he quirks a proud brow.

“You’re gonna use that in a minute kitten,” he tells you, and you can’t see where his hand goes, but he’s starting to lazily stroke his cock.

“Is this the one we made?” you laugh at the memory.

“Oh yeah it is,” he smirks, and lets out a soft whine. He’s thinking about it too.

He’d called you down to his lab one afternoon, he’d been in there all day and you’d not heard from him. So, when he called you it was a surprise, you thought he was going to use you as a guinea pig for his smart home device he’s testing named Etta. He’s getting close to finishing her, and you agreed to help him with the trials. But this wasn’t it.

You walked in the lab, pushed on the glass door, it was cool under your fingertips. Inside the room however, it was quite warm. Warmer than normal. Nathan stood in the middle of the room, hand on his hard cock, pumping himself slowly.

“Nathan?” you laughed and flushed despite coming in here and seeing weirder things. And you’ve done crazier things with him before.

“Good you’re here,” he said.

“What are you doing?”

“Making a mold of my dick. Here,” he tapped the table, indicating for you to hop up on it. “Strip. Let’s go let’s go,” he taps the table quicker.

“Ok ok!” you scoffed a little, but you figured he had a reason. “Why do I need to be naked for you to make a mold of your-“

“I need to stay hard while the mold is on me kitten.” He reached for a tube filled with a solution. Once you were naked, he positioned himself inside the tube. He let out a soft gasp at the change of temperature and focused in on you. “Ok, go.” He nodded his head at you.

“Pardon?” you started to step off the counter when he winced again.

“Touch yourself baby, please.”

You wanted to gloat, but you didn’t want to ruin his project. But then, you thought maybe some gloating might turn him on a little.

You were shy the first and second time he asked you to touch yourself in front of him, but by now you’d gotten quite good at putting on a show for your husband. He moaned watching your fingers move.

“How long do you have to stay hard for?”

“Five minutes. But it’s not so easy when this thing is fuckin’ cold.”

You kept going. And you were seconds away from coming when Nathan’s timer went off. He gently pulled himself out of it and reached for you.

“Oh no, you are not touching me until that stuff is off you.”

He promptly ignored you and shoved your hand away. He knelt on the ground and buried his face in between your legs. His moans and beard added to your pleasure, and you came when you heard him groan deeply. He came untouched, his cum dripped onto the floor and down his length.

You’d not seen the dildo until now that it’s in your hands.

“Fuck, I wish I was there to push it into you,” Nathan sighs. “But since you can’t have the real me-“

You smile and set the dildo on the bed next to you. You continue going through the box. Inside there’s a bottle of lube, some new lingerie, and a small scrap of paper. It has information about picking up something tomorrow.

“Make sure you’re awake, you can’t miss this delivery,” he tells you over the phone. “Now, please baby. Can I see you?”

You pull off your shirt, and he groans.

“Fuck look at you. Do they miss me?”

You purse your lips together, wanting to roll your eyes at his joke, but yes- yes you miss him touching your tits. So, so badly.

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” you grin.

“So that’s a yes then. Ok, baby, touch ‘em. Please, fuck.”

His hand slides up and down his cock in full view of you while you touch your chest for him. You do everything he asks, but you start to tell him what to do as well.

Soon you’ve got the dildo ready and he moans louder than you when you slide it in. It’s strange to feel it, because you know it’s not him, but you can tell it was made from him. It fills you just the same.

“How’s it feel baby?”

“Thick,” you moan, clenching around it. “But I miss your warmth,” you tell him honestly. And you do, you miss his heat, not just physically, but the passion. It’s there now, only virtual.

“Remember when we used to have phone sex when you still lived at home? And start moving that that kitten.”

You moan doing as he asks and tell him yes you remember.

“I tried to hide my posters of you from you,” you laugh then moan again.

“Posters? Plural? Oh fuck!”

“Are you about to come from that?” you can’t help but giggle.

“Fuck, you were so cute when you were all shy and crushing on me.”

That pulled a moan from you.

“You like that kitten? Remember when you were so shy? Fuck, you let me take your virginity baby.”

You want to watch him, but you throw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Look at me kitten,” he demands, and you open your eyes. “Come. Now,” his voice drops, and you can’t help but relax and let your body release. He watches you in delight squeeze around the gift he made you. It sends him over, and it’s your turn to delight in the pleasure look on his face, and his cum on his tight stomach.

“I miss you,” you gasp, catching your breath.

“Fuck, me too baby. But that was sexy as fuck,” he grins, and you nod in agreement. “Now, go back to sleep baby. Don’t forget about that delivery tomorrow.”

You set an alarm as soon as you get off the phone with him. When you’ve cleaned up and curled back in bed, you smile wondering what on earth he could have sent you.

The next morning you wake and get dressed to see about the delivery. You make the small walk to the field where the helicopter comes with your weekly deliveries of food and whatever else the two of you need.

The pilot hands you a box, and it says not to open until you get back to the compound.

But you can hear what’s inside before you do.

You gasp softly and walk quickly back to the compound and open the box as soon as you step inside, and the door is closed behind you.

Inside is a little black kitten. He has on a little blue collar, and the name tag says “Prometheus.” He’s a little jumpy from being flown in, but before you know it, he’s happy and exploring around his new home.

You pick him up and cuddle him and give him a kiss on his little head. With him in your arms, you look in side the box again. There’s a towel and another note.

All it says is “a kitten for my kitten.”

tagging: @pascal-isaac, @wasicskosgirl, @velvetmel0n, @huliabitch, @shadow-assassin-blix, @writefightandflightclub, @aellynera, @softboywriting​, @veuliee2​, @spider-starry​, @mylifeliterally​, @millllenniawrites​, @ntlmundy​, @foxilayde, @writingletterstothefire​, @mandoplease​, @anetteaneta​, @feelmyroarrrr​, @artsymaddie​, @shakespeareanwannabe​, @poedameronsbeard​, @deanfanatic67​, @magicsuperheroes​, @phoenixhalliwell​, @that-one-weird-one​, @mariesackler, @yourbucky084​, @woakiees​

[lupinblacktheone]

"So, I was thinking": a modern college!AU:

Johnny is bored. He has already finished all of his crosswords; all of his friends are busy minding their own business and won't pick up their phones.

Classes won't begin until next Monday. Johnny arrived at his dorm last night and he doesn't know when his roommate will be there. All he knows about this person is his name: LaRusso, Daniel.

Wondering about this mysterious boy could set Johnny free from his boredom. Is he a nerd? Or a drama kid? Johnny hopes he won't sing all the time. Of course he likes music (who doesn't?), but musicals... he isn't ready for them yet.

It would be nice to have some common likings with him. Maybe horror movies or breakfast for dinner (well, Johnny is so broke that he eats it for all meals, basically).

Remembering the old times, which weren't good, not at all, tugs at Johnny's heartstrings. He doesn't miss arguing with his parents all the time, but he certainly liked not having to iron his clothes himself. And he misses messing around with Tommy, Jimmy, Bobby and Dutch after school.

Oh, and Karate! Johnny misses it so much that it hurts. He couldn't find a Karate club to join (is this a thing? In Johnny's opinion, it should be. There are clubs for everything in this campus. If he can't find one, he'll form one). Maybe he can practice with Daniel and he could be the second member of the Karate club.

"Hello! I'm Daniel!"

Johnny stares at the boy. He's short, dark-haired and has round brown eyes.

"Johnny", the blond boy gets up, approaches Daniel and shakes his hand. "Can I help you unpacking?"

"Please", Daniel sighs and rubs his neck. "My mother just dropped me off and turned the car around. I barely had time to say goodbye. Can you believe it? I think she wants to rent my room while I'm gone, but I don't think I'll be going home anytime soon. How about you?"

Obviously, the first thing Johnny learns about Daniel is: he's a chatterbox. Second thing: he's from Jersey. He lives with his mother and would love to learn martial arts, but her mother wouldn’t let him because she’s afraid he will get hurt.

"I know Karate", Johnny confesses with a little smile.

***

Sometimes, Johnny regrets having told Daniel about his passion for Karate, because the kid didn't stop begging Johnny for some classes until he finally gave up.

Their dorm is too small and they would destroy it sparring there, so Johnny decides to have the class outside, behind the gym. Daniel said he would meet Johnny there after dinner (and yes, Daniel also has breakfast for all meals, since he is just as broke as Johnny).

December is on the way, so Johnny is wearing as much sweaters as he can (including his Cobra Kai jacket). He leans his back against the red brick wall and puts a cigarette between his lips.

Daniel shows up some minutes later, carrying a heavy messenger bag on his shoulder and wrapped in hoodies and coats (he has lots of cool hoodies; Johnny loves to borrow them and he is using the baseball one right now).

"Ugh", Daniel puts the bag down, massaging his shoulder.

"Are you ok?", Johnny asks with a worried look on his face.

"Perfect. Let's do this."

They get on fighting positions and spar for a while. When they get tired, they walk back to their room, peacefully talking about the day.

"Let me carry this for you", Johnny picks the messenger bag, even though Daniel has already bent to pull it.

He places it over his shoulder and Daniel walks beside him, ranting about his lame Calculus professor.

"I couldn't convince Mrs. Warter to postpone the paper's due date", Johnny complains when Daniel asks about his day. "I'll be lucky if I get a C on it."

"Do you want me to help you?"

Yes, please, he almost answers. Johnny enjoys having Daniel around. They don't have many common likings besides Karate and breakfast food, but he really enjoys staying up late with him, sharing their only desk (Johnny begun to work as a cashier in a store near the campus and Daniel writes other people's assignments for money and they are saving money to improve the place) and laptops on study sessions. Or to spend rare and lazy Sundays in their room, doing crosswords (Daniel bought some magazines and gave to Johnny). Or to share breakfast meals in the middle of the night because they can't sleep.

"Are you free tonight?", he asks, his voice sounds desperate, just as his eyes.

"Is this a study session or a date?", Daniel replies jokingly and raises an eyebrow. "Sure. I can help you."

Johnny opens his laptop and shows Daniel what he's working on.

"I mean, it's not bad, but could use some adjustments here and there. Let's get to work."

Daniel presses the keyboard keys hard with strong movements that emulate a pianist, but with perfectly tied hair. His brain is formulating what should be in the text and getting rid of what shouldn't be read by Johnny's professor.

"I think we're done here", Daniel declares.

"Thanks. I'm gonna buy you a coffee tomorrow, with extra cream."

"Much appreciated", the boy winks and Johnny's heart skips a beat. "So, I was thinking..."

"What a miracle", Johnny teases, smiling to distract Daniel from his blushing ears.

"Anyway, are you going home for Christmas?"

"I don't think so. You?"

"Also no. I don't have enough money for a ticket to Parsipanny."

Daniel looks at Johnny for a moment. His blue eyes are usually shiny, but now... he's more than just sad. Johnny looks depressed and scared.

"Are you alright?", Daniel reaches for Johnny's hand. "You can talk to me. I'm here for you."

Johnny doesn't talk. Instead, he goes for a hug. A big and warm hug. He clings onto Daniel as if he was the only thing keeping him from being blown away.

He doesn't want to cry. However, he can't fight the tears anymore. Daniel holds Johnny, trying to keep him together only with his bare hands. He doesn't try to whisper comfort words in Johnny's ear, he just stays there, providing his roommate all the support he can.

That night, Johnny falls asleep in Daniel's arms. He has never felt this safe before.

The next morning, Johnny rushes to the closest cafe shop to get the nicest cup they have. He drops by the dorm to put the coffee on the desk with a note: To the best roommate ever. Thank you for everything. Love, J.

He sends the paper to Mrs. Warter as soon as he takes a seat in the computer lab for his first class, hoping Daniel's help can save his poor ass from failing Warter's class.

A few hours later, Johnny is waiting for the last class to begin so he can get to work. Not that he likes standing up by a counter telling old people where they can find raisins, plum juice and other things old people buy. But at least, he gets to listen to his music and does little pieces of homework between a client and another.

There is something Johnny can't do at the store: see Daniel. Too bad they don't take many classes together, because every time Johnny sees Daniel entering the classroom, the world changes. It becomes brighter and more beautiful. He knows it's cliché, but Johnny is tired of pretending to be the perfect son, athlete... he just wants to be Johnny.

And Johnny is brave.

"So, I was thinking...", Johnny says when Daniel sits by his side.

"That's unusual", Daniel lets out that amusement air through his nose. "What is it?"

"Do you wanna go out? With... with me?"

That is really unusual. Johnny never was this reticent before. Not even when he noticed he had a crush on Ali Mills.

“Yeah, sure. When?”

“How about Friday? My shift ends at 5:30.”

“Sounds great.”

***

Johnny spends Christmas in his dorm, with Daniel. They curl up on Johnny’s bed, wrapped in Daniel’s hoodies, solving crosswords puzzles and drinking tea while listening to Johnny’s music. Neither of them wants to talk about their families.

Growing up as an only child, Johnny never had to share his things. He wouldn’t even allow Ali to read his poetry (he wrote some about her, tho), or let his friends go through his Spotify playlist. Not because he's embarrassed to like these songs, but because the lyrics describe him so perfectly that he's not comfortable with someone listening to it in front of him.

When he met Daniel and found out they could be good friends (maybe more than that? Johnny certainly hopes so), he felt an urge to take the boy on a journey through his world. First, they shared Karate, then crossword puzzles and went on and on, discovering little things about one another.

“Huh… I couldn’t get you anything for Christmas, so I wrote you a poem. Wanna hear it?”

Daniel doesn’t say anything, just gets closer to him as Johnny clears his throat and searches his notebook for his newest composition. Once he finds it, he puts the paper in front of his eyes (he was brave enough to ask the boy out, but not to have that lovely brown eyes gazing at him while he reads his feelings out.)

“I loved it, Johnny. Now get ready for your present.”

Johnny doesn’t close his eyes when his lips are pressed by Daniel’s mouth. It feels so good that they do it again and again until they fall asleep, holding each other.

***

Graduation is almost here. Most students have moved from the dorms or plan to do it soon. Daniel and Johnny, on the other hand, haven’t mentioned the matter yet. As you can imagine, they don’t want to live with their families again. The only thing Johnny wants is to stay with Daniel and he wonders if Daniel wants the same thing.

“Hey, Danny”, it was supposed to be a nice and quiet study session before the finals, but Johnny can’t hold this down any longer. “I was thinking… do you wanna live with me?”

“Are you kidding me? You’re never getting rid of me, blondie.”

[lyssismagical]

evermore

Just a Solid Vent Fic 

I wanna do 30 days of Taylor Swift-inspired fics (folklore and evermore) lmao but idk yet we’ll see lemme know tho 

 *

As a compromise for Tony not being able to pay Peter’s tuition to MIT thanks to his full ride, Tony bought an apartment right beside campus for Peter to live in, to ensure no awkward adventures trying to be Spider-Man with a roommate.

Peter’s still adamant about getting a job and paying for his food, phone bill, and any other things like clothing or entertainment.

And balancing classes, patrolling, and a job, isn’t easy, of course. But it’s always been better for him to work hard than to give himself time to think. It’s not like his mental health is on hold, but it’s easier to put it aside when he’s got so much to do all the time.

It doesn’t help that he’s also on the debate team thanks to MJ, and in the robotics club thanks to Ned.

When November rolls around and it brings the final projects, Peter pushes himself to the limit to keep up with everything.

He starts dropping his sleep to only a nap whenever he can squeeze it in, working all afternoon, classes all morning, and Spider-Man all night, and he starts making up excuses for anything that isn’t a number one priority.

He stops seeing his friends, stops calling May back, stops replying to Tony’s worried texts, stops helping out with his professors or the librarian or his classmates. He stops cleaning his apartment, letting dishes pile up on the counters and laundry go unwashed.

It’s bad, and he knows that, rationally and logically, he knows.

But that doesn’t stop him from doing it anyway.

Three weeks, he tells himself.

And he keeps pushing.

MJ shows up at his apartment out of the blue when he’s studying away, and he barely manages to clear the fog in his head to stumble for the door.

“I can’t talk right now,” he says before she can even say hello. “I’ve gotta study for my physics exam.”

“No, you’ve gotta chill the fuck out.”

He shakes his head, leaving the door open as he turns his back and heads into his kitchen for a quick snack so he can get back to his work. “No, I have to study.”

“Oh my god, you live in a garbage dump,” she says, eyes going wide as she takes in the state of his apartment. “When was the last time you washed a dish? Or, gross, your hair?”

He doesn’t bother responding, rolling his eyes and downing a protein bar. “Two weeks, now, and then I’m done for a month.”

“At this rate, I don’t know if you’ll make it through the next two weeks.”

Peter can’t help but roll his eyes again, part of him hating how much he’s lashing out despite wanting help, needing help, but unable to find the strength to stop it from happening as he brushes past her again.

“I know you’re stressed, I know you’re anxious about exams and papers and labs, but, seriously, Peter?” she says, following him to where he’s working in the living room, papers and binders and textbooks strewn across every surface. “You’re a genius, okay? You’ve been getting excellent grades all year. The only reason you might not do well on these projects is because you’re working yourself to death.”

He shakes his head, feeling very suddenly like he might cry. “It’s not that easy. Just… I don’t want to deal with this right now, okay?”

MJ doesn’t take that as a good answer, though, sitting beside him on the old couch. “I know you, okay? I know you better than most people do. I’ve seen you in some of the worst states you’ve been in. I know this. You can’t pretend that this is okay or normal or that this is you doing fine. I don’t believe it for a second.”

He opens his mouth to fight back, to argue, to try to convince her otherwise, or maybe just to kick her out. But he hesitates.

After the Snap’s reversal, she was the one who devoted all her time to taking care of him. He was such a mess of PTSD and depression and emptiness, but she was there. She kept the lights on for him, she brought him food and water, held him after nightmares, talked him down from panic attacks every other day. She was there, despite everything, she was always there.

Tony was too far and he never wanted to bother May, so he regularly would drop by her fire escape where she would patch him up after patrols, and occasionally, let him sleep next to her and make sure to get him to school on time.

She’s always been there.

She’s held him together, kept him sane, helped him through it all.

It wouldn’t be fair to get pissed.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, shoving a hand through his mess of greasy, tangled curls. “I’m such a mess, I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to be a bitch, but I just… I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel like I’m drowning.”

And she nods because she’s always understood, always known what he means. She puts her hand over his. “You deserve a nap. C’mon.”

He goes to shake his head, looking to where his lab is only half-done, he’s only a few chapters into the textbook to get prepared for his exam, rough notes scribbled out for a paper.

“No, c’mon. You’re taking a nice nap. You deserve it,” she repeats, tugging more insistently at his wrist.

But he shakes his head this time, pulling his hand away. “If I stop, I won’t be able to start again.”

“Peter-”

“I’m serious, if I take a nap or a break or take a second to breathe, I will crumble and I won’t be able to put myself back together in time for these due dates. I won’t get back up. I just-” He stops, taking a deep breath and rubbing at his wet eyes. “I need to keep pushing for the next two weeks and then I can fall apart.”

MJ shakes her head, fingers wrapping around his thin wrist. “That’s not healthy. And it certainly wouldn’t be right for me to let you do that.”

“I’ll fail my classes if I don’t do well on these assignments and exams. I need to keep going. I know it’s bad, but if I get into bed, I will fall into a slump and I won’t get anything done.”

Surprising both him and what seems like herself, she nods, holding onto him a little tighter like he’ll disappear before her very eyes. “Fine. But I’m going to stay here with you and make sure you don’t die over the next two weeks, alright? And you have to listen when I tell you to eat or watch stupid reality TV shows with me.”

He hums out an agreement, letting himself slump into her side, eyes focusing in on his mess of homework laid out before him.

“Come on. Step one, is getting you showered and in clean clothes because you smell like you spent the night in a dumpster.”

*

MJ does exactly as she promised she would. She calls it a ‘mental health sleepover’ and they set up camp in the living room.

She calls in sick for him at work for most of the week, telling them that he caught the flu and wouldn’t be back until after his exams, and even then, he’d already booked most of Winter Break off to go home to New York.

There wasn’t much she could do, in all honesty, it wasn’t like she could force him to sleep or take a break without a fight, but she could make him healthy meals and stop him from going out patrolling, which was enough to take a big load off his shoulders.

And she occasionally can convince him to watch those dumb reality TV shows, which occasionally makes him fall asleep on the couch for at least an hour or two.

It helps, of course, but it doesn’t solve any of the problems.

As soon as he’s finished exams, he’s going to drop, he’s going to fall, he’s going to drown, let the waves take him.

And nobody will be able to help him then.

“I booked your flight home,” MJ says over dinner and while he’s finishing up his lab report. “My flight’s a few hours after yours, so I’ll be with you until you board and then the Starks will pick you up.”

“Thanks. I really owe you one,” he says, only half-listening as he starts on his paper.

She grabs him by his shoulder and makes him turn to her laptop screen. “Say yes to the dress time. Your paper can wait a bit.”

“There’s only so much I can procrastinate,” he says but he’s already closing his laptop and tucking himself into her side, and shoulders finally relaxing.

She starts the episode, on a low volume, and presses a quick kiss to his temple.

By the time they’re onto the second episode, Peter’s slurring out his insults to the dresses some of the women pick, making fun of the different styles, and blinking getting longer and longer.

“That neckline?” Peter goes, giggling into MJ’s shoulder. “Especially with those shoes?”

“You’re a bitch.”

“I know, but seriously?” he laughs again, a little window into the person he once was. “I mean the first option wasn’t bad, but the choice of a grey dress in the first place…”

MJ’s voice goes all soft and gentle when she next speaks up, “Come on, go to sleep, you can afford to take a little break.”

And he nods sleepily against her shoulder, tucking himself just a little closer, making himself small against her side. It’s simple, for now.

*

As soon as he’s done his last exam, he can feel the adrenaline wearing off, disappearing from within him, all energy draining from his very veins.

He goes straight home afterwards, ignoring everybody who tries to stop him for a chat. And as soon as he makes it to his apartment, he goes straight to bed, tugging the sheets right over his head.

He shouldn’t do this, he knows. He should call MJ, ask that she drop everything for him again because he can feel himself slipping, but he won’t. He can’t. He doesn’t even know when the last time he saw his phone was, let alone have the effort to leave his blankets and try to find it. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t have it in him to care.

He feels empty and exhausted and strung out. Carved hollow. Putting everything he has into the past few months, he feels like he has nothing left to give.

There’s a knock on his front door, but he doesn’t move.

A few minutes later, his phone rings, somewhere in another part of the apartment. It rings again and again, a symphony for him to pass out to.

*

Time passes strangely when he’s this deep in a depressive episode. He doesn’t know how long he’s been huddled under his blankets, hiding from the world. It could’ve been anywhere between a couple hours and a few days, he doesn’t know.

His phone continues ringing, far away and echoing through his dreams, tears sliding down his cheeks at random intervals, hands trembling where they’re tucked under his chest.

He feels like he’s drifting away, collapsing into himself, fading away into nothingness.

He feels empty, hollow, gone.

He gave everything he had into school and work over the course of four months, and he has nothing left to give anymore. He’s nothing more than an empty well.

And he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to pull himself together, pack, get a flight home, and pretend to be one hundred percent for Morgan.

He’d rather just die here, in this cave he’s built, ghost-like and fading away already, than have to face another soul.

*

When he hears his front door unlocking, he knows he should be worried. Nobody has a spare copy of his key except for Ned, who already went home to New York a few weeks back.

He knows it should be at least a little concerning that somebody is breaking into his apartment, but he can’t find it in him to care. He doesn’t have the energy to move or hide or try to protect himself.

He just curls up a little tighter and hopes that this won’t be his last day.

“Peter?”

He lifts his head, just enough to see over his cave of his blankets.

And standing in his bedroom doorway is Tony.

“Hi,” he breathes, curling up a little tighter, knowing he’s safe.

Tony slips into his room and sits at the end of his bed, one hand on Peter’s ankle. “MJ called when you wouldn’t answer your phone or let her in. She knew something was up.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I saw something like this coming after you finished your senior year and spent two weeks sick and depressed. I thought you’d be home in time before you started feeling so run down, but I guess I was wrong.”

Peter doesn’t know how he’s supposed to respond to that, so instead he lets his head fall into the pillows again.

“I’m not going to make you do anything yet, I think you could use a bit more time here. Though, Morgan thought two days sleeping was plenty, I think another one might do you well. But tomorrow, we’re going to get you fed and showered and your apartment clean, and then this weekend, we’ll get a flight home. Sound good?”

He nods, though he’s pretty sure he would agree to pretty much anything so long as the decisions are taken out of his hands.

“Come here,” Tony murmurs, sliding into the space beside Peter, arms open. Peter finally feels at home when he crawls into the awaiting hug. “MJ mentioned Say Yes to the Dress bingeing, you feel up for making fun of more dress choices?”

Peter laughs half-heartedly against Tony’s chest, tucking himself into him like a child would, and nods, breathing in the soothing scent of motor oil and expensive cologne.

He knows he’ll fall apart again, he knows that it’s not going to be a permanent solution, but the time being, he has Tony’s arms around him, a reality TV show quietly keeping them company, and the relief of having time to feel miserable before he has to pick himself up, it’s enough for now. It’ll be enough.

He’ll be okay with people like Tony and MJ at his side.

He’ll be okay.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina  @fancyxparker  @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @misskirkstark @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester  @emo-girl10 @justme--emily  @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 @loveliestdisappointment @joyful-soul-collector @genderfluid-and-confuzled @fallenstar07 @gyurolls @sdottkrames {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

[buoyantsaturn]

Riding Bikes Across the Street Without Looking Either Way (2/2)

summary: “Well, you can stay with me and Annabeth as long as you need to, okay? We’ve got a shitty couch with your name on it, and we’ll make sure your dad never finds you.”

word count: 3,955

read on ao3 | read chapter one

Nico hadn’t slept in three days by the time he arrived at Percy’s apartment late at night, around two days after he’d left home. He’d barely stopped along the way, so when Annabeth opened the door for him, she looked like she’d seen a ghost. (At this point, Nico felt like he might as well be one.) 

“Oh my god,” Annabeth said as she grabbed Nico’s shoulder to pull him inside, drawing him straight into a hug. “Neeks, you look like shit. Are you-- Are you bleeding?”

Nico refrained from reaching up to check his head, and looked to the side in an attempt to stop Annabeth from looking too closely, though she took his face in her hands and turned his head back the other way. “I’m fine,” Nico muttered when Annabeth gasped. 

“You are not,” she argued. “You’re going to the hospital.”

“I just drove for two days, I don’t wanna drive anymore,” Nico told her. “Can’t I sleep first?” 

“Oh, you are not driving like this,” Annabeth said as she started further into the apartment. “You probably shouldn’t have driven in the first place! Wait here. Percy just put Luke down for the night, but he’ll take you.” 

Then Annabeth disappeared around the corner, so Nico stood in the doorway with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. He let his eyes fall shut and his head tip forward, and just about fell asleep standing up until his body started to lean, and he startled awake to catch himself. When he opened his eyes, Percy was there with his coat in hand and concern written across his face. 

Nico blinked up at him, and Percy seemed to take that as his invitation to draw Nico in for a hug. Nico flinched back when Percy got too close to the wound on the side of his head, so Percy jumped back like he’d been shocked. “Dude,” Percy whispered, his eyes full of something like pity that made Nico’s stomach turn. Percy pulled on his coat and held out a hand. “Alright, give me your keys.” 

For a second, Nico didn’t move. He wanted to argue, to say he was too tired and that they could just go in the morning, but he didn’t want to get hit again. (Percy wouldn’t hit him, would he?) Nico took the keys out of his pocket and dropped them into Percy’s hand. 

They walked down to the road and got into Nico’s car. It wasn’t until they were a few minutes down the road that Percy tried asking what happened, though Nico wasn’t very willing to share. He hadn’t told Percy much more than things have gotten worse and I’m coming to New York, so he was sure that Percy was more worried for him than he was letting on. Percy’s mind was probably reeling over all the different things that might have happened to leave Nico in such a state, but Nico couldn’t bring himself to say it. 

He let Percy guess, though he never got very specific. Percy had narrowed it down to Hades and drinking, though Nico knew those weren’t hard to figure out. 

When they sat down in the hospital’s waiting room, Percy finally said, “You know you’ll have to tell the doctor what happened, right? I mean, maybe they can help you, like, file a police report or something.” 

Nico was shaking his head before Percy had even finished talking. “I don’t want to file a report,” he insisted. “I don’t… I don’t wanna think about it anymore, and I don’t want him to know where I am.”

“Oh. Right, of course,” Percy said quietly, then wrapped an arm around Nico’s shoulders to bring him into a side-hug. “Well, you can stay with me and Annabeth as long as you need to, okay? We’ve got a shitty couch with your name on it, and we’ll make sure your dad never finds you.”

“Thanks,” Nico whispered, and his head fell onto Percy’s shoulder. “Um, and can you do me a favor?”

“Yeah, of course.” 

“When we get back to your place, can you call Seph? Just to let her know I got here safely, but...don’t say where I am. And then delete her number. Maybe block it, too.” 

Percy rubbed his arm. “Yeah, man, I can do that.” 

A moment later, Nico’s name was called, and he tensed. “Will you come back with me?” he asked Percy as he got to his feet, and Percy nodded. A nurse took them into the emergency room and had Nico sit on one of the beds to wait for the doctor.

Another minute or two passed before a man with curly brown hair and a lab coat approached and said, “Hi there, Mr. di Angelo. I’m Doctor Markowitz, and I’ll be taking care of your examination before my supervisor comes over. It says on your form here that you have a head injury, do you want to tell me a little more about that while I take a look?” 

Nico ducked his head and shrugged. Markowitz glanced toward Percy, who said, “He doesn’t want to talk about it.” 

“Okay, noted,” Markowitz said as he pulled on a pair of gloves. He stepped up to Nico’s side and located the wound quickly, carefully brushing away Nico’s hair to get a better look at it. “Can you at least tell me what made the wound?” 

“A glass bottle,” Nico muttered, and averted his gaze when Percy’s eyes widened. 

“Glass?” Markowitz repeated, then took a closer look. “Well, it doesn’t look like there’s any broken pieces in here, so that’s good.” 

“The bottle didn’t break,” Nico replied. “I don’t think.” 

“Must’ve been one heavy-duty bottle to hit you this hard and not break,” Markowitz commented, and Nico suppressed a flinch. “Alright, hang tight for just a minute while I call my supervisor over. I’m thinking you’re going to need a CT scan to rule out a concussion, and possibly an X-ray to make sure your skull is all in one piece. I’ll be right back.” 

As soon as the doctor was out of sight, Percy turned to Nico and asked, “He hit you with a glass bottle?”

Nico folded his arms over his stomach, one hand wrapping around his other arm. He didn’t respond. He didn’t have time to, either, before Percy’s phone started to ring. 

“It’s Annabeth,” he said, “probably just checking in. I’ll be right back, okay?” 

And then Percy was gone, too, and Nico’s hand gripped tighter. He could hear Percy at first, answering the call and saying that they’d already talked to a doctor, but then his voice dropped lower and Nico had to strain to hear it. 

“He’s not acting like himself,” Percy whispered. “It’s like he’s fifteen again, he’s barely even talking to me.” A pause, and then, “Can that happen? Can something like this make him, like, regress, or whatever?” Nico’s fingernails began clawing at his skin. “Oh, the doctor’s coming back. I’ll let you know what’s up as soon as I can.” 

On top of a moderate concussion, Nico had a skull fracture, was severely dehydrated, and had reached the point of exhaustion that the doctors were surprised to still see him upright. Nico declined an IV drip of fluids and something that would help him sleep, insisting that he just wanted to leave, so Percy drove him home with a prescription that basically boiled down to rest. 

Nico passed out on the couch as soon as they were inside, and didn’t wake for almost twenty hours. When he did finally awaken, he got up to find Annabeth in the kitchen making dinner. 

“Hey, Neeks,” she said as she stirred a pot of pasta. “How are you feeling?” 

“Fine,” he replied, folding his arms across his stomach and eying the stove. “Can I help?” 

Annabeth raised an eyebrow at him. “Shouldn’t you be resting?” 

“I just did.” Nico’s nose scrunched up at the idea of sitting on that couch any longer. “I’m rested. So, can I help?” 

“Why don’t you see if you can help Percy with Luke, instead?” 

Nico hesitated. “But I like cooking.” 

“Do you like babies?” 

“I...don’t know.” 

“Well, if you’re going to be staying with us for a little while, then I’d like to know that you’re comfortable around my son,” Annabeth told him. “You never know, I might ask you to babysit. So, go hang out with Luke, and I’ll shout for everyone when this is ready.” 

Nico huffed and said, “Fine,” then turned out of the kitchen. Before he could fully leave, though, he stopped himself and said, “Actually, um. After dinner, do you think you could help me with something?” 

“Maybe,” she replied, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “What is it?” 

“I need to change my phone number.” 

Annabeth nodded. “Yeah, we’ll figure that out.” 

As it turned out, Nico got along with Luke just fine. It was almost easier than hanging out with adults, he realized, because he didn’t feel the need to try to hold a conversation. Luke could only say a handful of words, anyway. Nico spent a good half hour just holding blocks whenever Luke gave them to him. 

As dinner came and went, Nico learned what sorts of things Luke could and couldn’t eat, and then later on watched how to go about putting Luke to sleep at night. Apparently parenting was easier than people made it seem. How had Hades messed up so bad?

When the living room was once again baby-free, Annabeth sat down with Nico to help him figure out how to change his phone number. Percy was laying across the floor for some reason, and had been asking Nico about college in an attempt to get his mind off of running away from home. Unfortunately, that wasn’t really something Nico wanted to talk about, either. 

“So, do you need to, like, transfer to a new school or something?” Percy asked as he tossed one of Luke’s toys into the air above him. “You know, since you can’t go to class.” 

“It’s all online,” Nico replied. He was watching Annabeth work from the opposite end of the couch because the brightness of his phone screen hurt his head. “I talked to somebody at NYU last summer about doing all online classes.”

“Are you sure you’ll be able to do that?” Annabeth asked. “You can’t even look at your phone long enough to see who’s texting you.”

“And that doctor said you need to avoid screens for at least a week, didn’t he?” Percy added. 

Nico felt his heart rate rise as his anxiety spiked again. “Well, what day is it?” he asked, hoping his voice wasn’t shaking as much as his hands were. “Maybe I’ll have time to rest before my classes start.” 

“It’s Wednesday, the…” Percy drew out the last word as he pulled out his phone, “...sixth. When do your classes start?” 

Nico dropped his head into his hands. “Two days ago.” 

“Okay, no big deal,” Annabeth said without raising her eyes from her laptop screen. “Just email your professors to explain the problem, and ask for an extension on anything you missed.” 

“But I won’t be able to do anything for another week, and at that point, I’ll be two weeks behind in, like, half of my classes,” Nico complained, scrubbing his hands over his face and then scraping his hair back from his face. “And then what if I can’t catch up? Maybe I should just take the semester off.”

“Alright, take a breath.” Annabeth reached over and set a hand on Nico’s arm, but he flinched out from under the touch. “I think you should sleep on it. There’s no need to make such an impulsive decision.” 

Nico pulled his knees up to his chest and dropped his gaze to the floor. “No. It’s better if I drop the classes now instead of having to withdraw later. I’ll just start up again in the fall.” 

He glanced up again just in time to see Annabeth and Percy sharing a worried look. He grabbed onto his arm and squeezed. 

The apartment was too small for three adults. Maybe if Nico hadn’t had to sleep on the couch, then he would’ve been less of an inconvenience to Percy and Annabeth. He tried to make up for it in other ways. He cooked whenever he could, and he washed the dishes every night. Nico was trusted enough to look after Luke on his own for short periods of time - if Percy needed to run out to the store while Annabeth was in class or at work, usually. 

Still, Nico was in the way. He hadn’t quite assimilated into their home, and he’d heard them whispering late at night when they all should have been asleep that money was tight. 

Things came to a head when Nico finished off a pot of coffee one morning, assuming that the others had gotten their share. He was feeding Luke so that Annabeth could get out the door in time for class when Percy stumbled into the kitchen, half-awake and already grumpy. He grabbed a mug out of the cabinet before reaching for the empty pot and freezing at the sight.

He slammed the pot back into place, and Nico flinched.

“Damn it, Nico, did you drink all the coffee?” Percy snapped.

Nico sunk in his seat, hoping to appear as small as possible. He watched Percy pick up his mug again, and imagined it shattering against his skull. He wound his arms around his stomach and ducked his head. 

“The least you could do is make another pot,” Percy continued. “God.”

“Sorry.” Nico pushed his chair back, the legs screeching against the floor and making him flinch again. “Sorry.” He was up on his feet one second, and then he blinked, and he was in the living room. He could hear his pulse in his ears. His head darted back and forth, but there was nowhere to hide. 

Oh god, why wasn’t there anywhere to hide? 

He couldn’t hide in the bathroom, because Annabeth was in there. He couldn’t hide in either bedroom, because the doors didn’t have locks. 

He went into Luke’s room anyway. Nico figured he would have a better chance at hiding underneath the crib then he would Percy’s bed. And then, when he shut the door behind himself, he saw the window. 

The fire escape.

Nico pulled the curtains loose and climbed out the window before sliding it shut. He heard Percy shouting for him as he sat down on the nearest step. He almost got up and ran down the fire escape just to make sure he wouldn’t get hit. Instead, he stayed perfectly still to ensure that the creaking of the fire escape wouldn’t give him away. 

He only wished he’d brought a jacket.

Nico was blowing on his fingers to keep them warm when the window slid open. He must have already been frozen to the step, or maybe it was the panic that kept him from jumping up and running away. 

“Nico,” Annabeth breathed with a sigh of relief. She held a hand out to him. “What the hell are you doing out here? Get inside, it’s freezing!” 

Nico hesitated. “Is...Percy gone?” 

Annabeth frowned, waving her hand impatiently. “What are you talking about? Why would he be gone?”

Nico stuffed his hands under his arms and ducked his head. Of course Percy wouldn’t be gone. He lived there. It was Nico that was always going to have to run away.

“Do you need him to be gone?” Annabeth asked gently. 

Nico shrugged. 

Annabeth sighed, and Nico tensed. She sounded annoyed. “Alright, don’t move.” 

Then she shut the window. Maybe she locked it, too, so that Nico wouldn’t be able to get back inside. He would freeze to death out there, and he could finally stop being everybody’s problem. 

The window opened again, and Annabeth poked her head out. “I told him to back off. He won’t come into Luke’s room while we’re in here, so would you please come back inside?” She held her hand out to him again, and this time, Nico took it. Her hand was unnaturally warm, or maybe he had let himself get colder than he thought. 

Nico’s bare feet touched the carpet and he immediately dropped to the floor while Annabeth shut the window behind him. She wrapped him up in a blanket and wound her arms around his shoulders. “Tell me what happened, Nico.” 

“I…” His teeth started chattering. Why was he shivering now that he was back in the warmth? “I drank the last of the coffee. I thought Percy already had some.”

“So your solution was the freeze to death in repentance?” 

“He was mad,” Nico whispered, his arms tightening around his knees. “I thought he was gonna hit me.” 

“Nico,” Annabeth said, her voice stern but not harsh, “you know Percy would never hit you. He loves you.” 

“I thought my dad loved me.” 

Annabeth pressed her forehead to the top of Nico’s head. “Neeks, this isn’t working out.” 

Nico’s next breath caught in his throat, and he felt his eyes sting with the beginnings of tears. 

Annabeth started rubbing his back. “I know we said that you could stay here as long as you need, but… Nico, this place isn’t big enough for all of us, and Percy and I… Our money is spread so thin already that we’re constantly stressed about paying the bills on time, and having you here too… We can’t walk on eggshells in our own home. I’m sorry, Nico. We love you, and we’re not kicking you out, but we need to start looking for another option for you. And maybe a therapist, too.” 

Nico dropped his head onto his knees as his tears started to fall. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m messing everything up. I never should’ve come here, I’m sorry.” 

“No, Nico, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Annabeth assured him. “And I’m glad you came here and got away from your dad. I’m glad you’re safe. And I’m sorry that Percy’s such an ass when he doesn’t get his coffee right away. I should’ve warned you about that.” 

“Not your fault,” Nico muttered.

Annabeth patted his shoulder. “Not yours, either. Are you gonna be okay?” 

Nico hesitated, then nodded. 

“Do you think you’re ready to talk to Percy?” she asked. “I think he’d like to apologize.” 

“Yeah,” Nico said, still nodding. “I’m ready.” 

Annabeth stood, then offered a hand to help Nico to his feet. She led the way out of the room and toward the living room where Percy was sitting on the floor with Luke, and as soon as Percy saw them, he jumped to his feet. 

“Nico!” Percy exclaimed, rushing forward with his arms held out, though he froze when he saw Nico flinch. Percy glanced at Annabeth, his expression wavering and his arms drooping slightly before he asked, “Um, can I hug you?” 

Nico took a step closer and nodded. Percy’s arms closed around him. 

“Dude, you had me so freaked out,” Percy said into Nico’s hair. “I’m so sorry for yelling at you. I’ll try not to do it again, I promise.” 

“Thanks,” Nico replied, shifting subtly until Percy released him. He took a few steps back and held his arms over his stomach again, as if defending a weak point. 

Annabeth set a hand on his shoulder. “I have to leave for class, but are you going to be okay?” 

Nico took a deep breath and met her gaze. “I’ll be okay.” 

“Good. When I get home, we can start looking for a therapist,” she said in a way that let Nico know she also meant if that’s okay with you. “And Percy, when you put Luke down for his nap, you two should start looking for apartments.” 

Annabeth pulled Nico forward and kissed his forehead. She kissed Percy on the lips, then Luke on the top of his head as she grabbed her bag, and then she was gone. 

Nico didn’t move for a few minutes. Percy settled back onto the floor with Luke and eventually turned the TV on for some background noise. Nico edged his way toward the couch and sat down in the corner, curled up with his knees to his chest. 

Percy reached back and tapped on Nico’s shin with his fingers. “Hey, no hard feelings, right?” he asked, his head tipping back to rest on the cushion next to Nico. “I love having you here, dude, and I’ve missed you a lot, but I’m sorry that it’s not working out. Besides, don’t you think it’ll be better to have your own place, anyway?” 

Nico’s arms tightened around his legs. “I don’t...want to live alone. I don’t think I can.” 

“Oh.” Percy’s gaze turned back to Luke. “I guess I always assumed that you were the type to like having your own space. Uh, okay, well, we can…” Percy hummed in thought. “We can look on...Craigslist? To find you a roommate?” He glanced back at Nico, and there must have been something about the look on Nico’s face that made Percy burst into laughter. “Okay, you’re right. Stupid idea.” 

Percy scooped the TV remote up off the floor and tossed it back to Nico. “Go ahead and put on whatever.”

Nico flipped through the channel guide for a few minutes, but ended up sticking with whatever kid’s show was already playing. 

“Maybe you could crash with somebody we already know,” Percy said. “We could talk to Jason or Leo, or-- No, wait, now that I think of it, I think Leo might be crashing on Jason’s couch… Hm. You can’t get a dorm at NYU if you’re not taking classes this semester… Man, the only person I can think of that has a spare room is my mom.” 

Nico felt himself perk up for the first time in days. “Do you think you could ask her?” 

Percy shot him a teasing grin. “You wanna live with my mom?” He looked away before Nico’s expression could fall, and shrugged. “Alright, I’ll call her after lunch. I’m sure she’d love to have you.”

Nico had his first meeting with a therapist the day before moving out of Percy and Annabeth’s apartment. It didn’t take long to pack up his belongings, mainly because he’d hardly taken anything out of his car to begin with. But when he got to Sally’s with the Jackson-Chases not far behind, they unloaded everything from his car to take inside. The guest room was a bit of a tight squeeze with all of Nico’s boxes and suitcases inside, but he had plenty of time to unpack and organize later. 

He came out of the room - his room - to thank Sally and Paul a few more times, but when he stepped into the kitchen, Sally beat him to it. She pulled Nico into a hug, practically squeezing the life out of him as she did so, and kissed the side of his head. “We’re so happy to have you here, Nico,” she whispered to him. “You stay here as long as you need.” 

“It won’t be forever,” Nico promised her after weaseling out of the hug. “I just need to figure some stuff out, and maybe I can try to get a dorm when the fall semester starts, and--” 

Sally took Nico’s face in her hands and pressed her lips to his forehead. “Take all the time you need, honey.” 

Nico felt like he might cry. He forgot what it was like to have a mom.

thanks for reading!

buy me a coffee | more nico birthday event stuff

[spontaneousstupidwriting]

FebuWhump Day 3: Imprisonment

Peter gets locked in a closet at school and can't get out without risking his secret being found out.

Also on AO3

Peter sighs as Flash continues to taunt him as he walks through the halls. Normally Peter wouldn't care so much about the bully but both Ned and MJ are out today.

“Hey, Penis, I’m talking to you!” Flash shouts, Peter rolls his eyes and ignores his spidey-sense telling him something is about to happen. He grunts as he's shoved into the lockers. Flash crowds him and the rest of the students don't spare more than a glance at the familiar scene. "You should know better than to ignore me by now, Parker."

Peter huffs, "Whatever, Flash, can we just get this over with, we're going to be late for class."

Flash looks to the left of the lockers then to the thinning hallway crowd before turning back to him, "Oh I don't think you'll need to worry about that."

Flash grabs him by the front of his shirt and drags him to the door by the lockers that he glanced at earlier. "What are you-" Peter isn't given time to finish his question before the other teen opens the door and shoves him into the rooms. Peter stumbles into the shelves lining the back of what is apparently a small storage room. Dust fills the air after he disturbs it leading to a coughing fit.

"Have fun in there, Penis. Maybe you shouldn't ignore people," is the last thing Peter hears before the door is slammed and the light disappears.

His coughing dying down, Peter takes a second to get his bearings. The only light in the closet is what comes through the bottom of the door and as his eyes adjust to the low lighting he sees that he must be in an old janitor’s closet. The shelves are lined with cleaning supplies and everything seems to be layered in dust.

The bell signaling the beginning of first period rings and Peter sighs, one of the few days that he gets to school early and he still doesn’t get to class before the bell. He reaches for the handle and twists. Instead of turning as it should, it makes a grinding sound before it stops twisting completely. Peter uses a little more strength but it quickly becomes apparent that he’d have to use some more than he’s usually comfortable using outside of his suit. He debates with himself, remembering that the school recently installed cameras after someone raided the lockers and that it’d see him breaking the doorknob on his way out. Peter’s shoulders slump in defeat, he can’t handle another mark on his record.

Of all the days to forget my phone, Peter mourns. He resigns himself to waiting and settles on the floor, maybe he can use the small bit of light to outline his English essay. Surely Flash will come back.

So he waits.

He waits through the bell signaling the end of first period, and waits as the beginning of second period starts. He waits as the following periods begin and end and debates breaking the doorknob again as he regrets forgetting to put more snacks in his backpack and lunch begins. He waits as it ends and the later classes begin and waits some more till the end bell rings.

Throughout the day as he hears his classmates walk by Peter can’t bring himself to call out and face the humiliation that awaits his release that way. It’s only until about a half-hour after school ends that Peter gives up hope of being released by his tormentor that he gives in and starts pounding on the door calling for help. He can hear that the few people in the hall can hear him as steps slow and a few mention it to someone else, but no one comes to help him. That doesn’t stop Peter from continuing because surely someone will come to help.

But no one does. Not the stragglers or the club goers, even a janitor passes by later long after school ends, the sound of music coming from his direction, likely from headphones.

Eventually, the school clears out, void of any sounds. Peter slumps against the door, not believing that he was still stuck in here. By this point, there’s no light coming from the bottom of the door and it starts to cool as the heaters turn off for the night.

Peter reconsiders his options, while there's no chance of a person seeing him break the knob the cameras likely continue rolling after school ends and there are security alarms on the doors in case someone breaks in. Would they activate if he opens them from the inside? He doesn’t want to risk it. May is supposed to get home around ten tonight, a time still far off. Once again he resigns himself to wait, but this time it’s much more unpleasant.

His stomach has been growling since school ended and the cold begins to seep into his bones. It’s wintertime now and the temperature continues to drop as the night continues. The lack of food and overwhelming cold slows his thoughts and he just stares at the door in front of him. When was the last time he went so long without food? Mr. Stark is always hounding him to eat because of his metabolism so it’s been a while.

Despite how cold he is, Peter doesn’t shiver, something that seemed to happen due to the bite. He pulls his jacket even tighter around him and regrets not wearing a scarf like May told him to that morning. He shuffles into the corner connected to the door on autopilot and his eyes get heavier and heavier as the temperature continues its descent.

May, finally able to take a break, checks her phone as she takes her break getting some fresh air in the hospital courtyard. She frowns when she sees that she has a voicemail from Peter’s school and immediately checks it.

An absence notice? She checks for any messages from her nephew or Tony, because while these notices used to be pretty common, Tony usually checks Peter out at the office after being appointed as one of his emergency contacts. But there’s nothing from either of them, nothing to tell her where Peter is or if he’s okay.

Panic beginning to rise in her chest she clicks on Peter’s contact and waits with bated breath as it continues to ring. Maybe he’s asleep or in the shower she tries to assure herself but that excuse becomes a bit harder after Peter’s voicemail greets her for the third time. Giving up on that she scrolls over to Tony’s contact, hoping that he’ll answer and have some answers.

Tony’s working in the lab when FRIDAY interrupts his music, “May Parker is calling you, boss.”

Tony frowns, “What time is it, baby girl?”

“It is eight twenty-two p.m. May is scheduled to be working right now and Peter’s suit has not been online since his patrol two days ago. Would you like to answer the call?”

Tony nods, “Answer it and save everything here, for now, something seems off about this.”

Instead of a response from FRIDAY, the next thing Tony hears is May’s voice, “Tony?”

Wiping his hands off on a cloth, Tony answers, “Hey May, everything alright? FRI says you’re supposed to be at work.”

“Is Peter with you? Or have you heard from him at all today?”

Tony freezes, “No, he sent his usually good morning text at the ungodly hour he usually does but nothing else. What’s wrong?”

He can hear May’s shaky breath, “His school says he wasn’t at school today and he isn’t answering his phone. I haven’t heard from him since he left for school this morning,” by the end of it her voice starts to break.

A pit grows in his stomach as he tries to keep his voice steady for May, “You need to take a deep breath okay? I have multiple trackers on him. I'm sure he has at least one on him,” A hologram pops up on his workstation with various items and locations.

“In any other circumstance that’d be extremely creepy,” she faintly laughs.

“From the looks of it his phone and suits are at home but his wallet, keys, nano bracelets, and watch are at Midtown and got there right before school started. So he did make it to school, and because he never takes off the nanotech I’m willing to bet he’s still there.”

“What is he doing there?”

Tony signals for FRIDAY to shut the lab down, “I don’t know but I’m going to head down there, don’t worry May. I’ll call you when I find out what’s going on.”

May sighs, “I’m going to leave early and head to the apartment, please let me know as soon as possible.”

“As soon as I find him, and I  will  find him.”

“I know you will,” is the last thing she says before hanging up.

Tony makes his way up to the elevator, “FRI, landing pad, please. I want an update if there’s any movement on a tracker.”

“Of course, boss, shall I alert Happy to meet you at Midtown?”

Tony is enveloped by a waiting suit, “Tell him to bring some food and water too, it looks like Peter’s barely moved all day and it’s been a long time since breakfast.”

FRIDAY tells him that Happy will arrive ten minutes after him as he navigates the suit to Peter’s school. “What should be waiting for us at the school security-wise?”

“There are cameras in the hallways and classrooms as well as alarms on the doors and windows activated at six-fifteen today.”

Midtown comes into view and he starts to descend, “Disable the alarms and keep the camera footage on loop until we leave. Is there any footage with Peter there today?”

“Yes, boss, in it he appears to be walking to class when another student approaches him and shoves him into a room by himself, there is no footage of Peter leaving the room.”

The pit in Tony’s stomach grows as he enters the school still in his suit, is Peter hurt? Did he hit his head? “Where is the room?”

“Take a left at the end of the hall then a right into the hall after the cafeteria, the last door on the right is the one Peter was seen pushed into.”

Tony thanks his AI as he rushes down the halls. He stops when he gets to the door and notices the knob not turning as it should, “FRI?”

“The lock appears to be tampered with.”

Tony’s frown deepens and he uses the suit's increased strength to rip the door open. He’s greeted by a seemingly empty room. But Peter  has  to be here. He looks up to the ceiling and lets out a breath of relief before the worry sets back in, why hasn’t he responded to the door breaking,

“Pete?” no response. “FRI, vitals!”

“Heartbeat is dangerously slow and his core temperature is ninety-six degrees, nearing hypothermic levels. He appears to be in a deep sleep,” FRIDAY responds, voice worried.

“Shit.” Tony activates hover mode to reach Peter and catches a glimpse of his pale face. He reaches to pry Peter from the ceiling, be as careful as he can as he gives FRIDAY instructions, “Tell Happy to crank the heat all the way up and get the emergency blankets from the trunk. Also, alert medbay.”

“Already done, he will arrive in two minutes.”

Tony thanks his AI as he finally gets Peter into his arms, there’s no reaction from the teen. Tony steps onto solid ground and quickly makes his way to the front entrance again while trying not to jostle Peter.

Happy makes it to the front as soon as Tony opens the door, likely having sped more after the update. He opens the back door then quickly grabs the blankets from the trunk as Tony sets Peter onto the seat. He orders the driver to wrap Peter in them as the suit retracts around him before speeding off into the air back to the tower. When Happy finishes he gets back into the driver's seat as Tony slides in next to Peter. He wraps his arms around his mentee and rubs his arms.

Happy immediately starts driving off to the tower, questions coming, “What happened to the kid? Why the hell is he still at school?”

Fire starts to grow in his chest as he’s reminded how this supposedly started, “May called me saying that Peter was missing and didn’t show up for school but his trackers said he  was  at school. At eight-thirty. FRI checked the cams and saw another teen lock him in a closet but never saw him come out. Now we’re here.” Tony couldn’t help the anger that shone in his tone, what the fuck was that kid thinking, and why didn’t anyone help Peter? “I’m going through the rest of the footage after we take care of Pete and call May.”

Happy nods silently and speeds up.

The next morning Peter’s still sleeping in medbay, his condition improved with gradual warming and a nutrient drip. According to Cho, Peter adapted more spider-like traits than they previously thought, including hibernation. Because of course he did.

But instead of sitting by Peter’s side Tony is up in the penthouse, boiling with rage after seeing how no one helped his mentee, his  kid , as he was thrown into lockers then shoved into that damned closet, and ignored him again as he yelled for help. Hell, some  laughed  instead of helping him. There was some slight frustration with Peter and how he didn’t use his powers to get out and just  ask him to change the footage and lock like really, Peter, it was so easy, kid.  It wasn’t even a new thing, Tony checked back and that kid had been bullying Peter since before the cameras were even installed.  Why didn’t he tell me?  Instead of wallowing on that he calls May up, his aunt deserving to know what this punk has been doing to their kid.

It’s only a couple of minutes later that May approaches him, having been downstairs with Peter. “Is this where you’ve been?” she asks quietly. “You should come down, you know Pete would love to see you there when he wakes up.” She touches his arm and gives him a sympathetic smile.

Tony smiles back tightly, “I’ll go down after this and handle the rest later, but there’s something you should see.” May nods in assent and he plays the video of Peter being harassed yesterday morning. May gasps and clutches his arm. Before she can say anything Tony stops the video and starts talking, “This isn’t an isolated incident either. I had FRIDAY check all of the footage, and this punk has been messing with our kid since before the cameras were installed a couple of months ago."

May's face tightens and her eyes seem to glow, “And the teachers do nothing? Does anyone help him? This is bullshit! It never should have gotten to this point! If Peter had been in there any longer who the hell knows what could have happened? We have to do something!”

Tony grips her shoulders and looks her in the eyes, “You’re right, and I’ll be with you every step of the way, and with me will be my best lawyers and even better, Pepper. As soon as she finds out about this there will be nothing stopping her from tearing that school apart for what’s happened to Peter.”

May goes to respond but is interrupted by FRIDAY, “I recommend heading back to medbay, Peter is showing signs of waking.”

Instead of saying anything, May takes a deep breath and shakily smiles, “Thank you, Tony. For being here for him.”

Tony relaxes and smiles back, “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Justice Chapter 1: How?

This is a mini series (hahaha mini series... ok) about the MC in the ReWritten Series, now named Uesugi Yoko. What happens to her after she’s left in Japan by the Caesar Team and what challenges is she facing?

If you read, please leave me feedback! ^_^

Yoko Uesugi looked at her phone from the rumpled sheets in a black tank top and shorts. Tokyo was seven hours ahead of Rome so it would be midnight, ‘Caesar Time’. She’d cheekily texted ‘you up? >:P’, but got no response. He probably was awake, but Caesar was the worst texter and seemed to get worse the more she wanted to hear from him.

She imagined him still awake, smoking a cigar and drinking Champagne. In the Takamagahara he used to stay up all night long to work and sleep in the morning. Yoko still struggled to wake up in the morning and sleep at night, even now. Most of her studying she did at night by the light of a lamp, polishing her Japanese reading and script, studying history, and dragon genealogy. On the nightstand she had crossed off 35 assignments. But this was an accelerated pace she set for herself, not something required by the Japan branch. In fact, Anjou blithely told her that thanks to her performance on the mission, she could be excused from classes entirely.

But knowledge was power, and she needed power.

She made an effort not to bother Caesar. Her assignment in Tokyo was her business after all. He had nothing but full confidence in her ability to handle any difficulty that came her way. So it felt like she was doubting him when she suddenly wondered if what she was doing was going to end up well done in the end. 

And now she wondered if she was going to end up dead.

Months ago, she’d awakened at Cassell College after experiencing the destruction of Black Swan Bay. The disorienting change in circumstances was made all the worse when she was subsequently shipped off to Japan to perform a dangerous mission. She learned that the man who had run the human experimental labs at Black Swan continued the cruelty in Japan. Dr. Herzog set up two organizations from a single family group of hybrids, splitting families apart by their bloodline heritage either the stable ‘good’ genes of Hydra or the ‘trash’ violent genes of the Devil Clan.

He ran experiments on both groups and used violent means to dispose of the undesirable results. When he finished his research, he launched a campaign to eliminate the Devil Clan by framing them for wanting to resurrect ‘god’ that is, the Light King. In less than a week, hundreds of people were dead, thousands were injured. And those who survived had their lives torn apart.

Herzog was dead by her hand, but his legacy lingered in the ruins of the Hybrid families of Japan. Yoko’s assignment was to help heal the fracture between the Devil Clan and the Hydra. Herzog’s legacy in Japan was connected to Black Swan Bay and she knew him intimately. It wasn’t enough to just kill Herzog and call it justice. She wanted to dismantle Herzog’s entire deadly philosophy that caused the slaughter in the first place and undo his legacy in Japan down to the foundation.

However, what needed to be done was going to run her up against some very powerful people. She wanted Caesar’s advice, but he wasn’t answering. Yoko put her phone down and got up to get ready for the day.

Yoko Uesugi wasn’t her actual name. Her real name was Russian because that’s where she was conceived. Her dark hair and eyes appeared Asian, however, only her square jaw and longer nose spoke to some other mixed heritage. It was easier to just adopt a Japanese name rather than have them struggle with her Russian one.

The light was already on in the bathroom. A girl with long red hair brushed her teeth in the mirror and moved aside to let Yoko in. Erii was the one who gave Yoko her last name, fully adopting her as an Uesugi sister. Like Yoko, Erii was the result of Herzog’s experimentation and should have been killed by him. She was the chosen vessel for the Light King parasite, the so-called Tsukiyomi-no-mikoto, who could fully assimilate the genes of the dragon into her own body at the cost of her mind. 

She was horribly unstable. The dragonblood in her body was eating away at her. Yoko was in a similar state and together they bonded over their shared illness. Thankfully, they both ended up sharing the cure of the Light King’s fetal blood that saved their lives, but even this was at a great cost. The resurrection of the Light King provoked the eruption of Mt. Fuji, devastating earthquakes, and a large tsunami that killed hundreds of people. Erii and Yoko got their lives back but the scars on Tokyo were still very apparent.

Erii wrote in her notebook and held it up. “Sakura-Kun got promoted. He’s a big man in College now.”

“That’s good news. Tell him I said congrats.” Yoko runs a brush through her hair and yawns. “Hope it doesn’t get a big head.”

Erii lifted up the paper again. “He says he doesn’t know how he’ll manage.”

“I can sympathize with that.” Yoko looks down at her brush.

As soon as Caesar Gattuso, Chu Zihang and Lu Mingfei left Japan, Yoko was approached by the Clan Chief, Nanami Sakurai who had been placed over the Hydra Executive Board by Chisei Gen before his disappearance. Yoko didn’t know Nanami very well other than a brief encounter where she’d furiously slapped Caesar in the face, not knowing it was him. The cold, murderous look in her eyes frightened Yoko into fleeing the elevator she was in.

But after the events in Japan, Nanami was very different. 

Nanami Sakurai had suffered from both sides of the War. Her relatives were members of the Devil Clan. Akira was less than ten years old when it was determined that his bloodline was dangerous and he was shipped off to the prison like schools for the violent. Kogure Sakurai was older, about fourteen when she was sent away. The two half siblings both died because they took Herzog’s poison and mutated. They were both killed by Chisei Gen.

Not only that, but two men she loved among Hydra died to the Devil Clan. The Kotaro of the Fuma Clan and Genichiro Ryoma.

Nanami took Yoko to an onsen and teahouse where they stayed for a week, talking and swapping stories. Yoko told Nanami the truth. The man who separated Kogure and Akira from her family was the same man who provided the poison that turned them into monsters and the same man who sent Chisei Gen to kill them. The man who did that was also the same man who drove Chime Gen to madness by converting him into Ruri Kazama. Ruri Kazama then killed Kotaru Fuma. This same man planted the Kanto Group in Hydra and induced them to rebel, an action that would lead to the death of Genichiro.

The men she loved in Hydra and her Devil Clan family were all victims of the same man who wanted to resurrect the ‘god’. Dr. Herzog.

Nanami Sakurai was silent and numb for a long time, her eyes dull. She didn’t speak again that night.

Once Yoko returned to her lodging in Genji Heavy Industries, she sent her a memo on how she thought the damage should be repaired. Yoko commented that it was important to listen to all the victims to get a full account of matters and collect evidence to document what happened first before making any decisions.

Kaguya the super computer had her core destroyed in the fighting and was still being rebuilt from a backup, but many of the records were held on personal devices and Nanami also sent out neutral representatives for witness testimony. 

Yoko had spoken to a man of the Inuyama family named Chance who gave her a glimpse of the violence during that horrible week. His family was all killed and their apartment block set on fire. The young children were all orphaned and institutionalized. But even that was only the tip of the bloody iceberg.

The Devil Clan controlled eleven of the eighteen yakuza gangs in Osaka, and the seven gangs loyal to Hydra had always been peaceful to them. But overnight the world changed. The gates of the Genji Heavy Industries building opened, black vans drove out in a convoy and the top members of the Hydra poured out. The moment they arrived in Osaka, the seven Hydra gangs launched an attack on the Devil Clan. Never before in history had a yakuza war been fought so efficiently. It was no less than Hitler's blitzkrieg of Poland. The Devil Clan gangs were crushed one after another before they could organize themselves. Seven of the eleven Devil Clan gangs declared their allegiance to the Hydra Yakuza, three of Devil Clan hold out gangs were beaten to death with bats, and the last one was disbanded. Overnight, Osaka became the Osaka of the Hydra

Not only Osaka, but also from the south to the north, all the gangs loyal to the Hydra family took action and spared no effort to attack the gangs loyal to the Devil clan. Either the Devil Clan members surrendered or their bodies were left on the street.

Hydra had almost all the information about the Devil clan, including the illegal transactions of the clan's gangs and government officials who had dealings with them. The police department received anonymous emails with evidence of the Devil Clan’s crimes, and as soon as the judge accepted the evidence, more than half of the Devil Clan members would be sentenced to prison. The officials who covered up for them received death threats. A prefectural assemblyman was suddenly lifted by a helicopter on the highway in his car, flying 500 meters in the air. The terrified prefectural assemblyman received a phone call in the air from Zuo Shang, an old-timer in the Hydra family, expressing his cordial greetings. Ten minutes later, the helicopter dropped off the senator's car in front of the prefectural assembly building, and by then the senator had become a member of the Hydra family. 

But the ‘ghosts’, the unstable hybrids, never even had the option to defect. Even though they had the blood of the Hydra family in their bodies, in order to escape, some of them used potions that forcibly purified their blood. In front of the Executive Board, which was created to kill people like them, they were just a bunch of desperate beasts. No matter how furiously they struggled, their hearts were pierced by explosive bullets filled with mercury. The aces that the Executive Board brought along with them were responsible for pouring the bodies of the ‘ghosts’ into the cement piles. The cement piles were driven into the bottom of the sea to form a neat array. The Maruyama Construction Institute, to which the Hydra family belonged, would build a shrine on that reclaimed land to commemorate the dead. 

The ghosts who did surrender would be imprisoned for life. During the Heian period, the Hydra family set up a black prison in the hollow of Mount Kobe to imprison the ghosts that appeared in the family. After the Meiji Restoration, the family was exposed to Western ideas and felt that the black prison was not humane enough, so they closed it, but suddenly the rusted iron gate had opened again. Very few ghosts surrendered however, preferring death to an eternal prison and that prison filled with their children.

Yoko had stood on the shore of the sea, looking over the rows of concrete piles under the waves, knowing that each one contained the body of a man or woman who had chosen not to be imprisoned forever and a great cold came over her. Right behind her, the people assigned as her escort and guard were the same ones who had ended these lives. Unless there was an investigation, it would be impossible to tell who was acting in good faith to repair the damage and restore the Japan branch to harmony and who would much rather let all the former Devils serve as a building’s foundation elements.

Thoughts of financial reparations and placement of orphans were suddenly overshadowed by the names of famous courts like Nuremberg and the Hague and Gacaca…

The suggestion of an investigation and trial of cruel members of the executive board went over as poorly as she expected. Where in Japan could she find impartial judges? Hydra owned everything, all the officials in the courts. No witness would ever testify openly in such a situation. Outside judges would have to be brought in. Who could be trusted with compiling such a roster? Who would be in charge of protecting them from corruption and intimidation?

The pushback was immediate. The Executive board were respected and highly regarded members of the Hydra. How could they be prosecuted for sparing no effort in stopping the Devil Clan from resurrecting god? Nanami didn’t tell anyone that this was all a plot of one man. They all still believed it was 100% the Devils’ fault and they all deserved to die. Tachibana was their respected and dearly departed leader who died saving his son at Tokyo Tower! Why were the guardians of Japan being held accountable for a war that the Devils began?

On the way home from shopping, Yoko was researching the Meiji Restoration when a bullet shattered the window. Despite there being a clear blue sky and it was broad daylight, there was no evidence to be found regarding who fired that bullet.  It was a warning shot. Only someone who was very high up in the Hydra rankings could have known where she was at that moment. The next bullet probably would not miss.

Yoko slipped on her shoes at the door and checked her phone one more time before stepping out into the hall of the Genji Heavy Industries building.

Caesar had still not texted her back.

[fangirlovestuff]

Cycle - Steve Rogers x reader ch.5

Previously:  ch.1 ch.2 ch.3 ch.4

Summary: The morning after, you quietly left. The days after, you were constantly screwing up. Will you stop thinking about Steve, or maybe you won’t need to?

Word Count: ~2,300

Warnings: explicit language, brief mentions of smut

a/n- hey lovely people! and just like that, another Steve series had come to an end. I had a lot of fun writing this series, and thank you so much to everyone who gave me feedback on it, it’s super appreciated! italics are for thoughts and divider is by @whimsicalrogers​. Enjoy!<3

The next morning you surprisingly woke up before Steve did, and used this opportunity to sneak out of his apartment, going back to your place to change before you had to be at work again.

On the way home, all kinds of thoughts flooded your mind, starting with should I have left a note? And all the way to this was the biggest fucking mistake ever, why didn't I try to resist it more, now everyone's gonna say I'm a slut, and they'll be right.

But amidst that rose the memories of last night, of the feeling of Steve surrounding you, his hot breath against your skin, falling asleep in his arms. And you knew, if you had a time machine, no matter how much you're overthinking this now – you'd do it again.

The realization caused you to shake out of your reverie, breathing out a shaky breath and looking around the street to ground yourself a little.

Nothing was gonna happen, it's all gonna be okay, and even if Steve will never talk to me again, he'll still respect what we agreed on, you calmed yourself down as you entered your apartment, getting ready for another day.

Steve entered the training room, his thoughts still wandering to the events of last night. When he woke up this morning, you were already gone, but his amplified senses could still pick up on the scent of your perfume on the sheets next to him. He understood why you did it. He was old, but he still understood the social conventions of hooking up, and he knew what it meant when he agreed. But there was still a part of him that hoped to wake up and see your face. Maybe even get a chance to see you fall apart under him once more.

He shook those thoughts away. This is what you wanted, and he should respect it. this is when your paths part. For some reason, he felt sadder than he probably should've been. And yet, he couldn't help but feel a sense of smugness at the events of last night.

When he put his bag down he was greeted by a friendly slap on his shoulder. Smirking, he immediately turned around, catching onto the arm and tossing the "attacker" onto the floor. Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. "You knew it was me, man," he complained as Steve extended his hand to him and he got up.

"Always be ready," Steve shrugged and moved towards the middle of the mattress-covered floor. Sam narrowed his eyes towards Steve and followed him, standing in front of him and getting into position.

"You seem to be in an awfully good mood," Sam remarked. "Any reason why?"

"You, Sam," Steve said in mock emotion, "You are my sun and stars, and getting to see you this morning is the abso—"

Sam charged at Steve, but the latter quickly dodged his punch and kicked his leg, making Sam lose his balance and fall down for the second time that morning.

Steve chuckled. "Relax, Wilson," he said, "a little sarcasm hasn't killed anyone yet, and I for one don't want that to change."

Sam's face lit up with understanding. "You finally did it you bastard! You got laid! Who was it?"

Steve couldn't keep his face from blushing. Was he really being that obvious?  "None of your business. Besides, it was a one-night thing anyway," he shrugged, trying to regain his composure.

"Hey, if you don't wanna tell me, I'm fine with that. But when Barnes gets his hands on you…" Sam grinned.

Steve groaned. "Fuck," he whispered under his breath, fully knowing if Sam managed to figure it out, Bucky would too. "That's a problem for later," he shook his head. "For now, I think you need a refresher on balance," he raised his brow at Sam.

"Whatever," Sam scoffed, "fucking super soldiers," he grumbled while he got into position once more.

It's been five days since you last talked to Steve. Not that you were counting or anything. Five days of making a complete fool out of yourself were just kind of a lot.

The first day you thought you had it under control. Even though last night didn't involve as much sleep, you drank some coffee and figured it would be okay. You started daydreaming and nearly fell asleep, leaving your mixture to cool for too long, noticing it only when Kate tapped your shoulder to get your attention and having to start it all over again.

Well, the first day should be the worst and then it'll be fine right?

The second day you were thinking about whether you should text Steve or not while you were diluting a solution you were working on, but got the different concentrations confused and needed to start again, costing you more time and materials.

The third day you thought it would surely stop. After that day you needed to get a new fire extinguisher for the lab.

The fourth was Saturday, so thankfully you didn't have opportunities to embarrass yourself anymore, right?

Except you went out with your friends, got drunk and told them that you slept with this "super" cute guy and how everyone hates you now because you mess everything up. They calmed you down and comforted you at the moment, but they also got that on video and god knows you're never living that one down.

Thankfully, drunk me was still smart enough not to tell them who it was, you mused as you watched the video, your head pounding on Sunday, the fifth day since you had last spoken to Steve Rogers.

Which brings us here, Monday morning, five days after That Night.

You entered the office, setting down your bag and going over some paperwork when Kate knocked on your door.

"Hi! Come in," you greeted her with a smile.

"Good morning," she smiled back. "Listen, I wanted to talk to you. I don't want to overstep, but you've seemed a little… distracted, these last few days, and I was wondering why? I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, obviously, but if it could help you…" she trailed off, a little awkwardly.

You sighed. "No, it's okay, I should probably give at least a little explanation for my actions. But you're gonna think it's stupid," you warned with a smile. She nodded at you to go on anyway.

You wondered how you should phrase it. "Well, I guess I've been trying not to date for a while, to focus on my career here, you know. But a few days ago I went on a date with this guy and it was wonderful, but I haven't talked to him and he didn't talk to me and I'm just… wondering if I should try to change that," you said. That was close enough to the truth.

Kate pondered what you said for a moment and then spoke. "The way I see it," she said, "you need closure. Just try to talk to him. If something comes out of it, great, if he doesn't answer, that's still fine. Either way you're better off knowing, because if the last few days are any indication, I'd say you feel very bad not knowing," she said with a teasing smile.

"Maybe you're right," you smiled. "Anyways, I'm really sorry for the last few days. But it won't happen today. At least I'm pretty sure it won't happen today," you added with a chuckle. "I'll join you in the lab in a few minutes," you smiled at her and she nodded and left.

Much like you, Steve also wasn't having a great time.

That first day he ended up seeing Bucky, which earned him pestering for the rest of the day, but he adamantly refused to reveal your identity even to Bucky.

"C'mon Buck," Steve rolled his eyes. "I'm not telling you. That's it."

"That means it's someone I know! Oh, is it – "

"Lalalala, I can't hear anything you're saying," Steve reverted to the childish method and put his hands over his ears.

"Fine, sheesh. You gonna see her again at least?" Bucky asked.

"I don't know," Steve said with a sigh.

Steve's smugness only lasted the first day, and the rest of them were filled with increasing disappointment.

The second day Bucky managed to hit him in the face with his metal arm because he wasn't paying enough attention.

The third they had a briefing for a coming up mission, and Steve nearly fell from his chair at the sound of his phone beeping, thinking it could be you.

Saturday and Sunday were spent alone in his apartment, finishing the painting of the skyline and ignoring Sam's and Bucky's texts. When he finished the painting he was so tempted to ask Bucky for your phone number and send you a picture of it, but he figured that would be weird. Instead, he started another painting, and without even noticing he started sketching your face. Way to go Rogers, you managed to be weird anyway, he thought and threw away the sketch.

When he came to work Monday, he thought he got over the whole deal.

Sam greeted him at the training room, ready for another mission. "You alright Rogers?" he asked.

"Oh yeah, my phone was just turned off," Steve shrugged, thinking Sam was wondering why he was… how do they say it? ghosting him?

"I didn't mean this weekend," Sam said, "how did you let Barns get you that good last week?"

"I guess I was just distracted," Steve shrugged, getting in position.

"You never get distracted," Sam stated, "you are literally the most prim and proper person I know. That one time Bucky and I argued for an hour next to you, and you didn't even notice, what's up?"

"That's not true, I did notice, I just ign-"

"See, that's a lie, because if you actually got distracted by what we were doing while you worked you would've asked which time I was talking about," Sam smirked.

"Whatever," Steve rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face.

"So, who's getting you so distracted? Was it mystery girl?"

"Um, yeah," Steve chuckled. "Look, it doesn't really matter right now, we should –"

"I knew it!" Sam laughed, "you just can't do one-night-stands, can you?"

"I-" Steve trailed off.

"Look man, it's just who you are. Go talk to her," Sam said.

"Maybe," Steve said, and then, without warning, made a blow at Sam that he managed to avoid.

"Always be prepared, right?" Sam said, a smug smile on his face.

"Right," Steve answered, smiling.

You were just packing up in your office, ready to go home. Thankfully, today had been free of awkward mistakes.

There was a knock at your door and you called them to come in, thinking it could be Kate, but in front of you was standing, causing you a serious Deja-vu, Steve. I spoke too soon didn't I?

"Hey," he said, scratching his neck.

"Hi," you whispered unintentionally. You cleared your throat and asked in a stronger voice, "Uh, can I help you?"

"Well, yeah," Steve said. "I wanted to ask… will you listen until the end of what I'm about to say?" he smiled and chuckled awkwardly.

"Sure," you frowned a little and came to stand in front of him.

"I was kind of… making a fool of myself the last few days. Not calling you was the main foolish thing but also, Bucky hit me in the face because I was thinking about calling you," he grimaced. "And… I know we agreed about no strings attached, but I can't stop thinking about you. In a non-creepy way," he quickly added with another awkward chuckle. "So, I wanted to ask if maybe you'd like to attach the strings?" he smiled. "Go on a date sometime? Obviously, I get it if you say no, but I just really wanted to ask. So, yeah," he looked away at the bookshelves surrounding you.

You gladly refrained from telling him about the times you’ve made a fool of yourself those days. "Yes, I'd love to go on a date sometime," you smiled and put your hand on his cheek, drawing his gaze towards yours. His face lit up with a smile, and then he was kissing you. It was the kind of kisses that left you breathless, the kind of kisses you felt like you could live on. Maybe even a true love's kiss.

"It's probably because you had a really good teacher. I mean, with that level of game, how could I say no?" you smiled.

"Probably," Steve agreed with a soft smile.

You couldn't contain yourself and kissed him again, cupping his face in your hands while his large hands were placed on your waist, drawing you close.

"Pay up, Barnes," Sam said smugly.

"No way! Look, what if the mystery girl is-"

Bucky trails off and smirks once he sees the two people who are walking through the lobby, where he and Sam were standing. Sam turns around and sees what he sees – You and Steve, walking hand in hand, giving each other total heart eyes. Steve raises your connected palms and kisses the back of your hand.

"Shit," Sam said under his breath.

"Pay up, birdman!" Bucky said with a shit-eating grin.

It's funny how life works. Right when you decide to stray clear of men, it brings you the sweetest one you've ever met, and you can't resist his baby blue eyes, looking at you so adoringly. Once you decide to be a little more of a player, change to get what you want, it brings you the most beautiful woman who doesn't need you to change at all.

In this case, opposites definitely attract. Together, they can achieve the most beautiful thing in the world – love.

and the curtain goes down on another Steve series. Thank you so much for reading, ily<3

Taglist:  @horny-nd-bored​ @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds​ @wintersoldierslut​ @iceebabies​  @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree​ @kaitcordx25 @bequeening​ @steve-barry-damon-logan​ @itscrazycherryblossomcollection​ @hollandxmarvel​ @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000

Cycle Taglist: @dee-vn @alex747 @itsangelpie-supports

if you wanna join / be removed from these taglists, comment/message me! much love <3

[oh-so-scenarios]

ᴛʜᴇ sᴇʀᴇɴᴅɪᴘɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪɴɢs...♠| 07

⤖ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴀs ᴛɪᴍᴇ ғᴏʀ sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇs? Jᴜɴɢ Hᴏsᴇᴏᴋ ɪs ᴛᴏᴏ ʙᴜsʏ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ ʜɪs ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ɴᴇᴛᴡᴏʀᴋ. Hᴇ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇʀᴇɴᴅɪᴘɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ʜɪs sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ…ʀɪɢʜᴛ?

⤖ Mᴀғɪᴀ Lᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ Hᴏsᴇᴏᴋ x ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, Aɴɢsᴛ, sᴍᴜᴛ, sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ!ᴀᴜ,

A/N: Unedited. Ignore any errors, please! whoa, word count is 8k o.o I surprised myself. I feel like this chapter is pretty okay. Didn’t feel like re-writing it for the 5th time so please enjoy! (Word Count: 8.13K )

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Narrator’s POV:

Y/n sits at a small circular table in the hospital cafeteria. The sun was setting, turning the sky an orange hue. She was given a beautiful view as her table face the huge window. At that moment, Y/n sat with her legs crossed and her lunch sitting in front of her. All she felt was tired. Tired and overwhelmed. 

The recent surgeries that have been performed at the hospital were draining. She found herself doing fewer operations but they were growing in length. There weren’t enough hours in the day to recharge and sleep. She felt like she was lacking sleep and the bags making appearances under her eyes was all the proof needed. 

The Charity Gala was approaching, making Hoseok grow busy with his schemes. Schemes of which she still didn’t know. It’d been 5 days since she saw Hoseok. Their last conversation being when he scolded her for trying to get information on him. She was also 2 days past the due date for her “assignment” to find another assistant. 

She had settled on picking Jennie, but couldn’t muster the courage to ask her. How do approach someone about something like that? Oh yeah! Just join me in this illegal practice for my mafia boss soulmate! 

Y/n wouldn’t dare utter such words. Not that she could speak at all. All of the trauma department have been working like crazy. An increase in car accidents has left everyone drained and it seems things have just started to settle. Even Dr. Lee lacked the energy to show his award-winning smile. He didn’t even come on to Y/n like he usually does. 

Finding out that Hoseok was her soulmate wasn’t stopping him. 

Hoseok hadn’t made any attempt to reach out to Y/n. She was supposed to meet him at the “headquarters” 2 days ago, but she ended up falling asleep the moment she got home. Her eyes snapped open the next morning, expecting a few missed calls or angry text messages. There was nothing. 

She was eager to see him again, banter with him or just be near him again. Jungkook wasn’t even replying to her texts, telling her that they were truly busy. She didn’t want to get in their way, so she found that it would be best to not go back to HQ till she was told. 

Sleeping with her eyes open at this point, Y/n didn’t notice Jennie take the seat beside her. Her white lab coat hanging loosely off her shoulders. Her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was bare-faced, not even her eyebrows filled in. Her peach top was ruffled and her white dress pants were the same way. 

“I got dressed in the dark.” Jennie finally speaks. Y/n’s eyes slowly move to Jennie, who is staring at the table blankly. 

“I don’t remember how I got here.” Y/n croaks, her voice coming out a bit rough. The two then sit in another heavy silence. 

“How is Hoseok doing?” Jennie attempted to make conversation. Y/n only shrugged in response. She didn’t have the energy to hold a real conversation. She was running on empty, but there is still a stack of paperwork waiting for her. She threw her head back, ready to cry from the stress weighing on her shoulders. 

Jennie stood up from her seat. It was a sluggish movement, making the young woman look like she was ready to collapse. 

“Well, I’ll see you later tonight,” Jennie muttered. 

Y/n was too tired to catch Jennie’s odd words. See you later tonight? Was she supposed to be hanging out with Jennie tonight? Cause y/n planned to go home and sleep as much as she could. 

Snapping out her exhaustion trance, Y/n moved forward to take another bite of her fruit salad, thinking of grabbing the piece of apple that laid at the bottom. She remembered reading something about apples helping people stay awake. 

She ate away at her fruit salad, little by little. Her phone dinged from her white coat pocket as she took a swig of her water. She took a look at her phone and felt an exciting knock from the heart. 

Hoseok: Doc, you know where to be. Tonight. call JK when you’re done with your shift.

She was ready to celebrate being able to see Hoseok, but her exhaustion came to damper that. Ugh, what work would he have for her? She was so tired! He’ll definitely say something about her lack of an assistant. 

She rolled her eyes at just the thought of his disapproving and dark eyes. 

After finishing her lunch, Y/n sat in her office for a while; typing away at her computer. She wasn’t watching the clock, knowing that this paperwork was what kept her at work. So she did it, typed and typed till she was sure the sounds of the keyboard would haunt her dreams.

The moment she submitted her paperwork, she folded both arms onto her desk, resting her head on her arms. 

“I’ll just rest my eyes.” She muttered to herself. Her eyes fluttered closed and a long sigh left her lips.

~!~

“Y/n!” A voice chimed. 

Before fully waking up, Y/n internally groaned. Who is bothering her? Who is waking her? How long had she been asleep?

Her eyes opened painfully slow, spotting the clock on her wall first. After the tired blur wore off, she was able to notice the time. 

3o minutes. She had only been able to sleep for 30 minutes.

“Noona?” A different person called this time.

Y/n sat up, her eyes scrunched into narrow slits as she came to. It took a moment for her to process the two people in front of her. 

Jennie stood to her left, a smirk on her lips. Though she still looked tired in her eyes. To Y/n’s right was Jungkook who stood in an oversized grey hoodie with distress jeans. Her eyes darted between the two figures, trying to collect her thoughts. The room stayed silent for a moment and Y/n wordlessly stood up from her seat.

“Hoseok wants to see me.” She was reminding herself, “I nearly forgot.”

Jungkook snickered, his lips turning into a tight smile, “Boss had a feeling you were going to fall asleep. You did the same thing last time.” 

She slipped off her white coat, draping it over her chair and gathering her things. It was till she had her bag on her shoulder that Y/n stopped to look at Jennie. The two stared at each other, Jennie blinked with a friendly smile while Y/n’s brows furrowed.

“Jennie..what’s up?” Y/n asked her voice still raspy from her brief nap.

“I’m also meeting Hoseok.” She answered simply. Jennie looked towards Jungkook innocently. 

“She doesn’t know?” 

Y/n gawks at Jennie then stiffly turns to Jungkook, “Know what? Why is Jennie meeting Hoseok?”

Jungkook shrugged and shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, “Boss got impatient waiting for you to find an assistant--”

“--So he hired Jennie?” Y/n cut off Jungkook’s words. She wasn’t surprised that Hoseok took matters into his own hands, but that he picked Jennie to be her assistant. How much did Jennie know? How long had she known?

“Yup!” Jennie pops the ‘p’ and grins. 

“You’re okay with the type of work you’ll be doing?” Y/n was almost whispering now. 

Jennie looked confused by Y/n’s question. Jennie wasn’t as stuck up as Y/n was thinking. Hoseok knew what he was doing when he approached her. Jennie, despite her loud exterior, is a secretive and observant person. She learned that from her father who was a lawyer. 

When you’re friendly and appear ditzy, people let their guards down. Watch closely and take notes for when you need them.

“Black market work.” She answers simply before walking around the desk to stop in front of Y/n. Jennie was now wearing black leggings with a plain red shirt and a cardigan. She had changed out of her work clothes and Y/n wished she had done the same instead of sleeping. 

With her hands-on Y/n’s shoulders; Jennie speaks, “I know it all. Mafia soulmate. Mafia doctor, transplant surgeries and the latter. No need to worry, I know what I am stepping into.” 

Jennie sounded too casual for Y/n. The innocent and bubbly gaze Jennie held while speaking about the illegal situation left Y/n feeling uncomfortable. Maybe she’s the only one sensitive to these things. She didn’t reply to Jennie, but walking past her and out her office, hearing Jungkook and Jennie trailing behind her. 

“She took that better than I expected.” She heard Jennie mutter behind her. 

Y/n really wanted to yell, throw a fit and lecture Jennie for so carelessly stepping into this tight situation. Frankly, Y/n was too tired. She didn’t have the energy to. Her mind was throwing angry and distasteful thoughts, but her body was too tired to execute them.

Y/n would just turn to stare at Jennie in the backseat as Jungkook drove the car. She was making sure this wasn’t a fever dream and was trying to process the situation.

They pulled up to the brick building that had become familiar. While ignoring Jennie’s questions about Hoseok, Y/n followed Jungkook into the HQ with Jennie trailing behind.

They came to the lobby area where the circular table was. The black and whiteboards stood in their regular places. Things were written on them. Y/n didn’t try to read them, but her eyes searched for Hoseok who was present. Everyone else sat at the table, papers spread out among them. 

“Y/n!” Taehyung chimed as the others noticed her. She gave a weary smile, her eyes darted around the room to at least look every man in the face. Her footsteps stopped as she spotted an unfamiliar face. Well...not unfamiliar.

She’s seen his picture on the whiteboard before. The artist! What’s his name again?

“Jaehyun!” Someone screams. Oh right! His name was-- oh wait. 

Y/n spins around just in time to see Jennie stalk past her to the quiet man at the table. She notices Jennie’s wide eyes and her face turning a cherry red. The other men in the room watch intently. 

Jaehyun stands up from his seat, also surprised to see Jennie here. 

“Is this the kind of work you’ve been doing?” Jennie hisses at her boyfriend. 

He glares at her, “Is this the kind of work you’ve been doing?” He shoots back. Y/n walks over to one of the empty seats at the circular table. She plops down and watches the couple as they aggressively argue.

“How do you think I pay for those fancy dates of ours Jennie? I am doing my best to make a living! It’s still painting! I am still doing art! What are you doing? Black market surgeries? You can’t call me out!” Jaehyun argued back. 

Yoongi looked at Y/n for an explanation. The action itself was small. He pointed to the two, who was standing to his right. Y/n just shook her head and rolled her eyes. They bickered back and forth and everyone watched silently. 

No one noticed Hoseok who stood a few yards behind Y/n. He glanced at the Jennie and Jaehyun, already knowing the connection between the two. He knew it would make things a bit messy...but those two being soulmates would come in handy. 

Then his eyes flickered to Y/n. He could only see her back, but the way she clutched in her seat was a dead giveaway. She was tired. The constant sighing, made visible by her shoulders rising and falling. 

He hadn’t seen her in a few days. He wasn’t keeping count but...her absence was noticed. He knew he probably had 30 minutes max before she started to nod off. Work has probably been draining for her. His eyes moved back to Jennie, also noticing her tired appearance. 

Hoseok quietly takes the empty seat beside Y/n who notices him immediately. She manages a soft but weak smile. 

“You look tired,” Hoseok states as a matter of fact. 

She chuckles, “Just say you missed me so we can move forward.” His words weren’t malicious and though they were monotone in some aspect, Y/n understood that. She playfully snapped back at him, giggling quietly. Hoseok didn’t want to admit the small satisfaction he got from the small interaction. Despite her fatigue, she still smiled that beaming smile of hers. 

He looks away from her quickly and down at the papers on the table. 

“Let’s get started. You can have your arguments after this.” Hoseok stated. 

This mission was big. A single error could result in failure and jail. Hoseok hasn’t been caught yet and he doesn’t plan to. 

“The Charity Gala is in a few days. There will be famous art pieces, valuable art pieces. There will be some for Art Gallery and others for auction. The goal is the art pieces for the Art gallery. There are four pieces we’re going to swap out. Jaehyun is well known for painting replicas, so he has already done so for all four pieces.” Hoseok began. Y/n shifted beside him, and though he noticed, he didn’t miss a beat in speaking. He wasn’t aware of it before, but now he sees how close their chairs really are. He wasn’t going to scoot away, seeing as it would draw attention. Y/n made no attempt either.

He caught a whiff of whatever shampoo she used while she ran her fingers through her hair. Y/n wasn’t surprised by the plan. She should have known Hoseok wouldn’t just volunteer to be in charge of the Charity Gala. She crossed her arms over her chest and listened.

“The night is set in such a manner; there is a viewing of the gallery, then there is the dinner which will be held in a ballroom. The gallery room and ballroom are only 4-minute walk down a long hallway from each other. After the dinner, the auction begins while others are free to roam back to the gallery if they please.” Hoseok went on explaining. 

The time frame in which everyone is having dinner will be when the switch is made. Hoseok thought the plan out well, knowing that art professionals will be at the gala, he decided to put the gallery viewing before the dinner. He wanted the professionals to look and confirm that real works were there. So when the fakes are noticed later, only an outside force could be blamed. 

Hoseok wanted to make sure there was no way he could be suspected. 

That’s where Y/n comes in. 

“Y/n,” Hoseok said. She looked at him, raising an eyebrow. 

“You will be my date for the evening.” He informed her. He didn’t even give her a chance to react before moving on. 

“You will be my date, you will be by my side. You need to make sure everyone sees that you are with me and I am with you. We need to convince everyone that we are a couple.”

“Why is that necessary?” 

“Everyone has to believe I was too distracted by you to take part in anything. The boys will be doing all the physical labor. I will be there for face, so work on not stiffening up when I’m close to you.” 

Hoseok expected a retort from Y/n but she only sighed, keeping her arms crossed over her chest. Hoseok to lay out how the fakes would be taken and swapped, along with how Jin would have to do some work with the camera footage. 

Y/n was tuning in and out. She was falling asleep while also trying to ignore the fast pace of her heart. She’s gonna be Hoseok’s date? They have to fake being a couple? So skinship? Hugging? Holding hands? Loving gazes-- is Hoseok even capable of such things?

Y/n can’t be sure when she really fell asleep, but her thoughts tapered off and she was sound asleep. Little did she know the room around her had grown still. 

Seokjin was talking about everyone’s roles in the mission and just how important timing was. Hoseok sat back in his seat, listening to make sure everything would run smoothly when he felt a weight drop onto his shoulder. He looked up from the paper in his hand and to his left. 

Y/n’s head was now resting on his shoulder and she was knocked out. All he was smelling now was the shampoo and light traces of her perfume. He sighed and looked back at the paper in his hands when he realized Seokjin stopped speaking. 

He looked up with sharp eyes only to find all eyes on him. 

“What?” He called out, thinking there was a problem.

He was oblivious. Jungkook beamed, his feature looking bunny-like while he smiled. 

“Continue with what you were saying.” Hoseok orders, looking back down at the words printed on the paper. They went on discussing the plan. It wasn’t much longer till Jennie also clocked out. She rested her head on Jaehyun’s shoulder, throwing her arm around his abdomen and snuggling her face into his neck. Jaehyun seemed unphased by it. 

However, it wasn’t like Hoseok’s indifference. Hoseok simply didn’t mind it, seeing as Y/n wasn’t restricting him in any way. Jaehyun was used to Jennie’s cuddling and even welcomed it.

The meeting went on and Y/n shifted a bit, mumbling something in her sleep and somehow finding one of her hands on Hoseok’s thigh. He stared at her hand for a moment before turning back into the meeting. 

Once the meeting was over, Hoseok watched as everyone went their different ways. He pulled his phone from his pocket, checking emails and text messages. He glanced up once to see Jaehyun scooping Jennie up in his arms like some sort of prince charming. 

“Boss, you guys look cute together,” Jungkook said almost coming out of nowhere. 

“We better,” Hoseok scoffed, “we really need to sell it at the gala so--”

Jungkook softly cut him off and shook his head, “That’s not what I meant. I mean you and Y/n REALLY look cute together.”

Hoseok gave a disapproving stare at the younger man but just got a wider smile in return.

“Come hold her head so I can go. Whether you want to wake her up or not is up to you.” Hoseok barked. Jungkook made no attempt to move from his spot a foot away.

“Hyung,” Jungkook’s voice grew softer. He swallowed and took a deep breath, knowing he was now entering the sensitive territory. 

“I think you should give it a shot, Y/n has shown what kind of person she is. It’s easy to see that she’s nothing like her. She’s nothing like your mother--”

“Kook.” Hoseok’s voice came out hard, and cold. Jungkook stopped, scared to say anymore to his boss.

“Right! Right! Never bringing her up again! Got it! Sorry about that!” The young man rushed out, walking over to get the slumbering Y/n off Hoseok’s shoulder.

~!~ 

 “You’re expecting me to wear that?” Y/n almost snickered. She stared at the dress laid out on her bed, the box it was delivered in tossed aside. 

Both she and Jennie stood in silk robes, hair and makeup done. Y/n trusted Jennie to pick out their dresses, so she sat back and focused on work. Now that the dress was here, Y/n could only gawk at it. It was a beautiful gown and looked expensive, but she doubts she could pull it off.

It was a sleek and sexy dress, form-fitting, with spaghetti straps and that draping neckline that’s been in trend. A slit up the dress looks like it stopped just a bit above her knee and the slight sparkle to the dress was alluring. 

It was a rich and deep green, but the slight sparkle only complimented the satin material in which the gown was made of. It went perfectly with the earrings she had on and the simple pearl necklace. 

“You don’t like it?” Jennie questioned, looking back and forth between Y/n and the dress. Y/n lets out a deep breath and shakes her head. 

“No, it’s a beautiful gown. I’ve just never worn anything like it before.” Y/n answers honestly. 

Jennie can’t help the small chuckle that leaves her lips. Since taking the job offer from Hoseok, she’s seen first hand what Y/n meant when she called Hoseok indifferent. The relationship between the two was ...complicated. Y/n often attempted to meet Hoseok halfway. The few meetings they had in the last few days really showed that. 

It was either Hoseok couldn’t see Y/n’s attempts or he really didn’t care. But what was easy to see was the heart eyes Y/n had every time Hoseok was around. Even in their arguments, Y/n found herself smiling after. 

Hoseok had a charm about him. He was quiet, intriguing and mysterious. 

“Well, you’ll be wearing it tonight.” Jennie replied. She moves towards Y/n’s closet where her navy blue gown hung. It was a bit bigger. Not a ballgown, but not form-fitting like Y/n’s. It was a strapless number with lace detailing. She absolutely loved the gown from the moment she laid eyes on it. 

             Her heels were just as high as Y/n’s. Both dresses would have a small train and seeing how extravagant these gowns were really drilled into Y/n’s head that this event was a big deal. She was too distracted thinking about how she’d have to play ‘couple of the year’ with Hoseok. In front of co-workers and important people. All that while pretending she doesn’t know 1.2 million dollars worth of artwork is being stolen and replaced. 

Stopping by HQ just yesterday was shocking for Y/n. She saw the replicas of the artwork and she nearly applauded Jaehyun. They were excellent. Now, Y/n was no art expert but to the untrained eye, the images were perfect reflections of each other. They even made sure the frames were mimicking the ones to be used in the gala.

I am assisting in a theft mission. Was all that Y/n could think. If she thought she was deep in the hole before, she’s practically digging it now. 

She grabbed the gown and began slipping it on. It felt even more expensive once the material was rubbing against her skin. Jennie zipped her up, and she did the same for Jennie. Just as the two were finished putting their heels on, Y/n’s phone dinged. Jennie’s phone did the same not even 5 seconds later. 

Hoseok: Here.

There was a slight jump in Y/n’s heart as she read the words. When she looked up from the phone, Jennie was already staring back at her. 

“Welp, let’s get this night over with.” Jennie almost groaned. 

The hammering of her heart was all Y/n could hear. Even as she stood in the elevator, Jennie’s small talk was hard to hear. She nervously played with the thin velvet strap of her purse, staring at her foggy reflection in the elevator doors. Her dark red lipstick was one thing that could easily be made out.

She looked good. She looked great. Amazing even. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Picking up her dress with both hands, Y/n walked out first, already spotting two black SUV’s parked right in front of the apartment building. 

You could imagine Y/n’s disbelief when she saw Jaehyun and Hoseok both stepping out of the SUVs. Hoseok’s suit was dark grey, he wore nice black dress shoes and his brown hair had slight blonde highlights in it. His hair was parted to the side and slicked back, putting his forehead on display. His white dress shirt had no tie or bowtie, but it was unbuttoned. Only two or three buttons but it gave him an edge.

As he adjusted his suit coat, his dark green cufflinks shined. They were matching. Jaehyun walked to open the door that led out of the apartment complex. Y/n thanked him briefly before walking right up to Hoseok. Wow, he looked good. She couldn’t help but take in how he looked in that nicely tailored suit. The coat opened with his hands in his pockets. A stance that held confidence and freedom. He looked like he was on top of the world and owned it. 

The green cufflinks held her attention for a moment. She probably looked like she was drooling over him. She looked up from his outfit only to catch his eyes still trailing over her body. He seemed to take a second to really look at every part of her. She didn’t miss his eyes lingering on her draping neckline, so basically her chest. 

When his eyes reached her face, she tried to figure out what he was thinking. His facial expression wasn’t giving anything away but he looked into his deep brown eyes and thought for a second she saw something new. The noise of cars zooming by and the other noises of a buzzing city was all that could be heard. 

What is this tension? The dense and heavy cloud was looming over them. There were so many unspoken words floating around, while one waited for the other to speak. 

Say something! Say something you fool! Y/n directed herself. 

“We’re matching!” A smile pulls at Y/n lips. 

Looking back at her Hoseok is glad to see that overcast of exhaustion gone from her eyes.

“Of course we’re matching, I picked the dress.” He says, moving back to open the door to the car.

Y/n raises her eyebrows, “You picked the dress? I thought--”

“Jennie only delivered the dress to you. I picked and paid for it.” He explains. Y/n gets into the car, and Hoseok follows in, shutting the door.

The car ride was mostly quiet, with Hoseok speaking on the phone to Namjoon, reviewing plans and times. Y/n twiddles her thumb, and was left alone with her thoughts. She was oblivious to the glances from Hoseok.

“Green must be your favorite color.” She said as Hoseok ended his phone call. 

He narrowed his eyes at her, “What makes you say that?”

Y/n scoffs playfully, “Come on. I’ve seen you wear green suits. My dress is green, your cufflinks and your phone case are green.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” 

“You’re right,” Y/n adds, “Green is also associated with the grinch so it matches you perfectly.” She giggles while Hoseok uncharacteristically rolls his eyes.

“Y/n, I really need to sell your role tonight. But if I do anything you don’t like, tell me.”

Y/n nods, “Understood.”

The gala was definitely a big deal. It was held at the banquet hall not too far from the hospital. There were cameras, media outlets, and big names all there in the name of art and charity. Hoseok jumped out the car and the cameras began to flash like crazy. Oh right...Hoseok is like an actual company owner. 

How much work does Hoseok really do? It’s okay for him to be photographed? As Y/n was helped out of the car, she looked down at the ground, the camera flashes being a bit too much for her eyes.

Hoseok is right beside her, placing a hand on the small of her back and pulling her close to him. They stroll past all the cameras and light and into the building. Y/n tries her best to seem natural with Hoseok’s hand on her back. 

But it felt like the spot he was touching grew hotter and hotter. Her shoulder was pressed into his side and the warmth coming off him was comforting. He wore that same cologne she’s smelt many times.

“Hey, look at me for a second,” Hoseok whispered. Y/n did as he said, meeting a small smile on his lips. She almost gasped. Not a smirk, not a snicker before he messes with her. A real smile, or a real-looking smile.

“Look like you’re happy to be with me,” He said while beaming.

Y/n almost said I am. Almost. The corner of her lips turned up in a smile that didn’t feel so fake. The close proximity of their faces didn’t feel forced. This didn’t feel forced. None of it did. 

“So we’re heading to the gala.” She said, adjusting the purse strap that was on her other shoulder. It wasn’t a question, but as if she had to remind herself. The two walked along, Hoseok removing his hand from the warm spot on her back to hanging by his side. 

Y/n didn’t need any instruction, seamlessly holding onto his bicep. She liked this. She liked this a little too much. 

The gallery hall was buzzing. There were celebrities, influencers, and company executives. It’s a different world for sure. They were able to walk around the gallery for all of 3 minutes before Hoseok was approached. It was some company executives talking about possible investments Hoseok’s company could make.

Hoseok chatted with them a bit, noticed that Y/n was also listening intently. She wanted to know more about Hoseok’s non-illegal work, as well as just how much he works.

“Excuse our rudeness, who is this beautiful lady on your arm?” The Lotte executive said, running his eyes up and down Y/n’s frame.

“This,” Hoseok brushed off Y/n hand and wrapped an arm around her waist, making Y/n face heat up. She grinned at the two men, sticking a hand out to shake their hands.

“This is Y/n L/n, my girlfriend. She is a surgeon for the trauma department at Seoul Sky.” Ugh, his words just roll off his tongue so smoothly.

“It is a pleasure to meet you.” Y/n said. The two older men chuckled.

“We never see Mr. Jung with a woman at these types of things. I just knew you had to be someone special.” The loan company CEO pointed out.

Y/n jokingly pouted and looked at Hoseok, “Not the smooth ladies’ man I thought you to be huh?” I teasing reached up to mess with the collar of his shirt. She narrowed her eyes at Hoseok, and he noticed the taunting gleam in her eyes. She was having fun. 

He chuckled, not at her words up at the realization he’d made.

“Every man has to hype himself up to his women, it’s only natural.” The Lotte executive joked. 

“If I had a beautiful woman like Y/n, I wouldn’t have tried my best to seem cool!” 

Everyone laughed, chatted some more before moving onto other things. This happened a lot. They’d be alone for a few minutes before more businessmen and women approached. The wanting gazes from the women around were annoying, leading Y/n facial expressions to have a mind of their own. 

“It’s no surprise you have a girlfriend just as intimidating as you are Mr. Jung.” One woman had said. Tha told Y/n about her facial expression right there and she worked a smile back onto her face. Now with a glass of champagne in hand, Y/n’s eyes darted around the gallery. She caught a few glimpses of Jennie and Jaehyun, who were seriously looking at the art. 

Jaehyun was thrilled, clearly going on about the works. At one point Y/n noticed Jimin who was dressed as a waiter. He must have had a wig on because his black hair was now a honey blonde. He wore glasses and kept his eyes down for the most part. 

The sigh that left her lips was a mistake, but it was enough to stop the flow of conversation Hoseok was having with some woman who said to be from an Energy Drink company. They all stopped to look at Y/n, and she was unaware, her eyes focused on the further away painting. 

Hoseok’s hand, placed securely on her waist, tighten, and his thumb started to caress her comfortingly. 

“Are you tired already, baby?” He whispered in her ear. Y/n’s head snapped around to look up at Hoseok, trying not to come off as surprised when she noticed just how close their faces were. All she could imagine was kissing him. His breath fanned her face and his eyes bore into her. 

The nickname had been the head turner but the closeness and intimacy were causing her heart to leap. He was too good at this. 

“N-no, I’m just interested in that painting over there.” Y/n answered softly. She gave a pointed look towards one of the artworks. Hoseok was going to say something, clearly about to excuse himself from the women around him. 

“Darling,” She said quickly, making Hoseok look back to her. 

“Don’t stop your conversation for me,” Y/n flashed a small smile, “I will be right over there if you need me.”

Hoseok leans in close and whispers in Y/n’s ear, “Trying to run away from me?” He was teasing her. Y/n smiled, and though others would see it as a couple in love flirting, Y/n was almost snickering at him.

“For my own sanity, yes.” She says quietly. She breaks away from Hoseok, ignoring the cold that surrounded her once his warmth was gone. She walked towards one of the artworks, stopping right in front of it. 

Her eyes were on the painting. It showed a woman staring at herself in the mirror of her bathroom, while the sun outside was black, still shining yellow despite the color. 

“Jaehyun says the picture is about how good can still come from bad.” Y/n jumps slightly as Jennie comes to stand beside her.

“Oh really?” Y/n takes a sip of her champagne, looking over at her friend’s smiling face. Jennie is looking at the painting still while Y/n stares at her profile.

“The black sun that’s shining yellow is the bad thing bringing out something good. The woman is staring at herself in the mirror but there is no reflection. She’s blind to all things good things, and to herself.”  

Y/n looks back at the painting, “I didn’t know you to be so deep.” 

She shrugs, “It’s Jaehyun. I don’t find this art stuff too interesting but I could listen to him go on about it forever.” Her smile becomes softer, a fondness twinkling in her eyes. 

Both of them didn’t speak for a while before Jennie looked at Y/n. She was hesitant to say what was on her mind. She didn’t want to deject her friend even more. But it was on everyone’s minds. Everyone in the room, even the strangers were thinking the same thing. 

“You and Hoseok look really good together.” Jennie voiced. Y/n sighed. There it was. She knew it was coming. 

“Of course we do. We’re both dressed up nicely, matching and all that.” She retorted.

“No,” Jennie now holds her champagne glass with two hands, “You two go together. You had me fooled for a moment and I knew you were supposed to be faking it.” Jennie paused again, not sure if Y/n wanted to interject. When she didn’t Jennie continued.

“And you looked really happy.”

“It’s fake.” Y/n deadpanned, making sure to keep her voice low. 

“But you’re still happy. Hoseok looked...happy.” 

Y/n scoffed at Jennie’s words and took another sip of her champagne. 

“Jennie, please stop. Just let me enjoy it for tonight. I’ll be met with the harsh reality tomorrow. I won’t let you trick me into believing there is anything else here.” 

“I think you need to stop waiting for Hoseok to make the first move. You go for it. Something small to relay to him how you’re really feeling.” Jennie suggested, glancing behind them in time to notice Hoseok’s brief glance at Y/n. 

Y/n downed the rest of her champagne when she noticed a waiter coming by. She placed the empty glass on the waiters’ tray and caught her breath. 

“Don’t make it so you’re some girl crushing on him, make him see you,” Jennie added. 

Y/n decides not to respond, blankly staring at the artwork again. 

The slight jump from her when an arm wraps around her waist was accompanied by a small yelp. She looked up at Hoseok, who was also looking at the artwork now. 

“You scared me,” She says quietly. 

Jennie wordlessly walks off, going to find Jaehyun.

“I can’t believe you left me with those annoying women,” Hoseok said, his thumb rubbing circles on Y/n hip.

Y/n laughed, “You weren’t enjoying the conversation?” 

“Not at all. Those ladies don’t want investments from the company--”

“They want you.” Y/n looks up at Hoseok with narrow eyes.

He changes the subject, “What an interesting painting.” He sounds really intrigued. Y/n went on to repeat what Jennie had said about the painting, explaining the meaning of the black sun and the woman looking in the mirror. 

Hoseok stares on in silence, perhaps taking in Y/n words. 

“Sounds like something my father would say.” Hoseok huffs a laugh, “Stop looking at the bad! Look beyond it.” 

Y/n didn’t want to say anything, excited to hear something about Hoseok’s family. But she didn’t want to be unresponsive.

“Your father sounds like an optimistic man.” Y/n peers into Hoseok’s face.

“Optimistic and trusting.” He added.

Taking a deep breath Hoseok spoke again, “His optimism and trusting character is what killed him.”

Y/n couldn’t stop her mouth from hanging open at Hoseok’s harsh words. She stared at his profile, waiting for him to say something else. 

When he didn’t speak again, she looked back at the painting. Why did the painting suddenly look so sad?

~!~

The gala was pretty boring to Y/n. They sat, they ate and wore their fake smiles for all the people who approached them. Hoseok’s eyes were drawn to his phone every few minutes. Oh right, that’s when they were swapping the artwork. 

Hoseok didn’t look worried or stressed. Y/n knows if she was in his position, she’d be freaking out. What if something went wrong? What if they are caught? Her blood pressure was rising just at the thought. She sat a large round table with Hoseok beside her. His chair scooted close to hers. They had finished eating and watched as others danced about. 

Hoseok took one more glance at his phone, a satisfied look taking over his face. 

“Everything went well?” Y/n already knew the answer. 

“Yes, everything is finished.”

Y/n nodded, reaching forward for a glass of wine that sat on the table. She had been drinking just a bit. Not to the point of being drunk, but the buzz was there. Hoseok noticed but didn’t say anything.

“I’m going to get some air.” Y/n said quietly and rose up from her seat. The auction had already begun in a smaller room down the hallway. The night was coming to a close. It was a lovely evening and she was thankful that a lot of money would be raised for charity. 

But there was a bitter after taste to this happy night. Y/n stood at the large balcony of the venue, staring at the stars that twinkled beautifully. At that moment, she almost felt like crying. 

The violins that were sounding from inside made her feel a bit like she was in a drama. A sad one-sided love story that was taking too long to turn around. His touch still lingered all over her. It didn’t feel weird, uncomfortable or strange. It was so familiar and welcoming. 

She was desperate to break past that stone-cold wall Hoseok had up. Everyone says be aggressive! Make the first move! But the thought of harsh rejection from Hoseok was enough to leave her unmoving in her spot. The buzz from her wine was really catching up with her now, making her head feel a bit light.

“Aren’t you cold?” Hoseok asked. Y/n jumped, placing her hand over her chest.

“You need to stop sneaking up on me like that!” She exclaimed. Hoseok stood there with his hands in his pockets, his eyes focused on Y/n. She felt a bit insecure under his gaze.

“You did really well tonight,” He said walking closer to her. Y/n leaned on the ledge of the balcony, suppressing the scoff playing on her lips.

“Did I really?” She muttered to herself, just loud enough for Hoseok to hear.

He stands beside her, leaning on the ledge. His whole body faces her while she faces out towards the beautiful garden below them. Maybe it’s the wine, but out of the corner of her eyes, it seems like Hoseok is smiling. 

Her heart hummed at his closeness, and just how effortless the conversation was feeling. It’s the wine for sure. They could barely hold a conversation without bickering, now the silence between them was so relaxing.

“Everyone’s eyes were on us tonight. No one will ever suspect me once the fakes are realized.” 

“Was everyone looking at us?” She sounded far away as if she hadn’t heard much of what Hoseok said.

“You couldn’t tell? There were eyes on us everywhere we went. People aren’t used to seeing me with someone.” 

Y/n looked over at Hoseok, taking in every feature of his face for a short second before speaking.

“I guess my attention was elsewhere, cause I didn’t feel a single eye on us.” The soft tone of her voice was enough to figure out what she was saying. Y/n was too wrapped up in Hoseok to notice a judgmental look or a gossiping whisper. He knew that.

 In fact. He’s a liar. He’s lying. Were there eyes on them? Probably? Hoseok doesn’t fucking know cause he wasn’t paying attention either. He was too distracted by...the mission. Right. The mission.

“Hoseok, I have a question.” The wine was giving Y/n confidence, so she was going to go for it. 

The look in Hoseok’s eyes was it pity? Curiosity?

“Despite your underground job...you don’t seem to mind having your face in pictures and stuff. Is that safe?” Y/n set her elbow on the ledge and place her cheek on her hand. She started blinking her eyes slowly and gazing up at him. 

‘Heart eyes.’ Y/n’s heart eyes every time he is around. At first, he didn’t understand. But now, Hoseok gets it, he sees it now.

“You’re really interested?” Hoseok’s lips turned up into a smirk. 

“Yes.” She nods eagerly.

Hoseok bit his lip, a bit hesitant to say anything. 

“I work under the name ‘Seok’. The mafia leader is known as ‘Seok’ but there is no face to Seok.” He leans closer to her, his eyes looking around to make sure no one was close. 

“Ah! I see!” Y/n chimes a bit too loudly, “That’s smart!” Y/n grows quiet and her eyes widened. So knowing who Hoseok really is...is a big deal!

“And...and that alias was started by you?” 

“By my father.” Hoseok’s voice grew a bit cold and Y/n worried that she was digging too deep. She watched Hoseok’s brows furrow and decided to keep digging until he shut her down. The support of some wine glasses made her brave.

“So you took over after your father passed?” Hoseok was a bit annoyed. Not by Y/n but the pity that was dripping off her voice. He hated people feeling sorry for him. His life is his life. He doesn’t hate it, he doesn’t wish he did anything else. He’s fine where he is. 

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry about your father passing.” Y/n picked her cheek off her hand and removed her arm from the ledge. She faced the garden and sky once more. 

“He died when I was 16, I’m okay now doc.” That nickname again. The wall was being put up again. 

Y/n nodded slowly, processing what Hoseok had just said. She realized a little too late that Hoseok’s father dying when he was 16 meant that Hoseok took his father’s position of mafia head at that young age. 

“And your mother?” Y/n asked softly, her eyes staying on the twinkling stars. Hoseok’s jaw clenched the thought of his mother. Y/n was too distracted by the beautiful night sky and the shining full moon to notice Hoseok’s lack of a response.

“Tonight was fun,” Y/n starts again, sighing dreamingly, “I’m just waiting for the clock to hit midnight and for the magic to disappear.” 

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, wondering if the wine had really gotten to her. Was she just talking nonsense?

“Magic?” He scratches his head in confusion.

“For once...it felt like you didn’t hate me.” She says truthfully. Hoseok stares at her profile, a little caught off guard by how fragile her voice was. Genuine hurt.

“I don’t hate anyone.” He sounded offended. And well that was a lie. He hated two people, but only those two. Hate takes too much energy. Hate? She thinks he hates her?

Hoseok’s face scrunched up in angst, “Doc, I don’t hate you.” 

“But you hate soulmates and doctors.” She accused. Hoseok’s face fell into a frown. 

“Who told you that?” He snapped.

Y/n rolls her eyes, “What does it matter? I got the message.” 

Hoseok was getting angry. She spoke like she had him figured out. He knows he can be cold but...hate? 

“What about you doc?” His voice was venomous, “Do you really like me?”

“Yes.” She says strongly. 

“You really like me? Or do you like the image of a soulmate? The idea of a soulmate is what you like. I am not the picture-perfect guy you dreamed of, stop trying to put me in that box.”

She looks at him, scrutinizing his face. Hoseok watched her eyes move all across his face, taking in every facial feature of his. Her eyes were big and honest. He couldn’t doubt anything she’d say with a look like that.

“I do admit, I liked the idea of a soulmate. I liked the idea of meeting someone and just connecting instantly and understanding each other.” She said sternly.

“My point is proven.” Hoseok’s harsh tone and disapproving gaze weren’t scaring her. She didn’t back down, still gazing up at his face.

“But I understand now that soulmates aren’t a guaranteed thing. There aren’t fireworks the moment you lock eyes.” She looks down at her pinky, gazing at Hoseok’s initials tattoed onto her skin. 

“You were not what I expected. Your lifestyle is frightening and dangerous. You are cold, calculating, hard to read and sometimes scary. You’ve probably killed people and I’m sure committed many crimes. Hell, I sat here and played ‘couple of the year’ while the others robbed artwork.”

“Oh--” A voice said from the entryway. Both Hoseok and Y/n turn their attention to Jungkook who stared on with wide eyes. He wasn’t sure what he had walked in on, but he was hesitant to speak. The atmosphere was heavy and uncomfortable.

“Noona, I’ll be taking you home.” He announced, “Just let me know when you’re ready to go.” Jungkook’s eyes flickered between the two adults, wondering what conversation had happened before he walked in.

“Thank you Jungkook,” Y/n’s voice wavered, “I’ll be right there.” She dismissed him. Jungkook gave his boss a pointed look before turning around to go where he came from.

Y/n sighed, pushing her body off the ledge and standing straight. She smoothed her dress and brushed off any possible dirt. 

She looked back up at Hoseok and flashed a sad smile, “Despite all those things. Your lifestyle, your crimes, and your cold attitude ...I still like you.”

Hoseok scoff, “Really?” He was nearly laughing. Not because he found her confession funny, but he didn’t know what else to do. He was rendered speechless. 

“Truly.” She confirmed, not daring to look away from him. The smile remaining from his laughing fell slightly.  Y/n stepped closer to Hoseok. He watched closely, looking down as one of her hands found his. She held his hand, stretched her head up and put her lips to his cheek. She kissed his cheek briefly.

There were traces of wine on her lips, but she certainly wasn’t drunk. She had her balance. Her eyes were shown to doubt or uncertainty. The same and now familiar shampoo tickled his nose. Her hand held his tightly, it was warm and soft. 

Her lips were only on his cheek for all of 3 seconds before she pulled back and let go of his stiff hand. He felt like the side of his whole face was on fire. The skin where she touched had grown hot.

“Tonight was fun. Thank you Hoseok.” With that, she spun around and made her way back inside. Probably going to find Jungkook so she could go home. 

Hoseok stood in his spot, trying to collect his thoughts. His incoherent thoughts were being drowned out by the playing of the violins and drums from inside. 

...wait. Drums? There weren’t any drums playing. 

It was the loud and fast pounding of his heart, overshadowing his scattered thoughts and the violins.

-------

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!

[aforrestofstuff]

What's the heroes' morning routine to start their day before going to work? Or their night routine before they're going to sleep? (And here is sprinkle of positivity vibes for you today: 😊😉👌💕💞💗💓💝💝💖💖🌟✨🍀🍀🍀🍀💐💐 Have a nice day! ❤)

Thanks for the request, anon! ❤️❤️ sorry this took me so long to get to, hope you’re still around!

Tornado of Terror: I’ve said in a previous hc that she sleep-levitates and wakes up in the weirdest places. So, she’d probably spend 10 straight minutes prying herself out of her bathtub or some shit with hella cramps. After that, she’d spam Fubuki over text message, asking her how to make a cup of coffee for the 57th time, then manage to burn it anyway, and finally go to work salty as fuck.

Silverfang: Wakes up at the crack of dawn, mediates next to a waterfall or some shit, broods over Garou, and makes himself a nice breakfast with a cup of tea. After that, he drags Charanko’s ass up the mountain to do some training, meditate some more, drink more tea, and around then it’s gonna be like 9 AM, so he’d probably just go the fuck back to sleep for a quick nap before actually going to work. Look, he’s old. Let him vibe.

Atomic Samurai: Also wakes the fuck up at the crack of dawn and proceeds to freeload a breakfast off of Iaian, wash it down with some alcohol at 6 in the AM, and complain about the weather. Then, he’d probably run over some sorta training routine with his disciples before doing group meditation and finally, finish it off with another drink. His tolerance is so damn high at this point. He shows up to work while pretending he wasn’t ten seconds away from getting wasted that morning.

Child Emperor: Wakes up rather early (if he even slept at all), runs diagnostics on all of his machinery, does tests on his latest weapons, takes 7 decontamination showers, and then makes himself a hearty breakfast consisting of Froot Loops and choccy milk. He shows up to work early and energized, running solely on his 87th lollipop and the single shot of espresso he had that morning. If it’s a weekday, he’d wait off on going to Association headquarters and teach a few classes at the local university instead. He’d then go to work in the middle of the day, grading papers and dying internally at the dumb shit his students say. He keeps a mental tally of how many people forget to write their names on their assignments. He’s suffering.

Metal Knight: Upon slapping the shit out of his alarm clock, he rolls out of bed and commands one of his bitchbots to make a Michelin-Star quality breakfast for him, then proceeds to stalk to the bathroom. He doesn’t shave or shower. He just takes a 45-minute shit because he’s forced himself to go to the bathroom once a day to “save time�� when it, in fact, does not save time. After that, he takes a decontamination shower before entering his lab (also another 45 minutes because he’d spend the whole time je— nevermind) and doesn’t show up to work at all because he’s a little bitchboy hellbent on building Skynet in his mom’s basement.

King: Wakes up, cries, plays video games, cries some more, eats some cereal, takes a shower, cries, calls Saitama over, plays video games, Saitama leaves, cries. Then, he’ll show up to work for a single meeting at 4 PM just so everyone knows he isn’t dead, have an anxiety attack, go home, and then cry (while having another anxiety attack). After that, he’ll play video games until 3 AM. Rinse and repeat.

Zombieman: He’ll wake up at 3 AM and then sarcastically open his blinds like “oh wow, what a beautiful morning”. He’ll make himself a hearty breakfast consisting of leftovers, some protein pills, and half a pack of cigarettes. Next, he’ll shower, shave, and do some routine vigilante detective work out in the town before coming back home just as the sun is beginning to rise. After that, he’ll take a thirty second nap and walk his ass to work (because his car has been in the shop for like, seven years) so he can vibe for 3 hours before throwing in the towel and isolating himself for the remainder 18 hours of the day because depression.

Drive Knight: he sleeps plugged into the wall like a Samsung. Either that, or he’s solar-powered.... or maybe he runs on AAAs. I don’t know, but his ass ain’t waking up like everyone else. He’d power on, do some routine checkups on his laboratory or whatever the fuck he’s got going on, and then show up to work for 3 seconds only to dip the fuck back out and go poach some endangered monster species for his collection or some shit. Look, he’s a robot.

Pig God: wakes up at 10 AM like a king and eats a small breakfast consisting of three rotisserie chickens, a whole pot of rice, 57 eggs, and a cool glass of milk (because calcium is important, kids). He’d spend 4 hours on the internet before he gets hungry and decides to go outside, stopping to casually devour an entire species of demon-threat monsters in the middle of the street while simultaneously traumatizing every single child living in a 3-mile radius in the process of doing so. After that, he’d do some hero work for like 30 minutes (and somehow eat like, 200 living things in that timeframe), go back home, and then indulge himself in a 17-hour food coma. He’s earned it.

Superalloy Darkshine: Homie wakes up at 5 AM, works out for two hours, takes a shower, and eats a breakfast big enough to feed a small family of 19. After terrorizing every health expert in the country with his buckwild diet (ironic considering Pig God exists), he hits up his bro Tanktop Master for another 2-hour workout. He then proceeds to take 3 seconds getting dressed in his hero uniform because it’s literally just a thong, and goes to work for a full 8 hours because he’s a good boi who takes his job seriously and genuinely wants to make the world a better place. :)

Watchdog Man: wakes up, pisses on a fire hydrant, eats dog kibble, sits on his pedestal in city Q, and then gets dressed.

Flashy Flash: wakes up in a forest somewhere because he’s probably homeless. The local birds flock around him and sing a morning song. He feeds a baby deer like a Disney princess. Then, he bathes in a waterfall and spends two hours doing his hair. After that, he buys himself a fucking bagel and takes his ass to work smelling like the inside of a Cabella’s. He vibes at HQ for like, 30 minutes, before traveling 500 miles away on his 57th quest for revenge and ends up breaking a record for “most homicides committed by a hero” on the way there.

Genos: wakes up, makes breakfast for Saitama, takes a shower, and spends half an hour doing chores while Saitama bums around with a yolk stain on his pajamas. Then, he’d hit up the professor for any news about upgrades, and go on about his day handing out justice as he sees fit until Saitama suddenly gets the urge to go buy some cabbage. It’ll be another 2 hours of walking around the inside of a grocery store while holding 2 grams of food (because it’s all Saitama could afford, broke ass) before he actually goes to hero HQ for a single meeting (while Saitama tags along), and then slaughter 87 monsters on his way home.

Metal Bat: wakes up at 6 AM because it takes him 8 years to do his hair. He’d wake up Zenko about an hour later and tell her to get ready for school while he hauls ass downstairs to make breakfast (burnt toast and 8 Flinstone vitamins). They walk to Zenko’s school together. He takes ten minutes to shower her with love, and then he turns back around to walk to his own school only to show up like, 45-minutes late to his first class. He only attends hero meetings on weekends because A. Homework and B. He doesn’t give enough of a shit to juggle official hero business and school in the same day (unless it consists of a monster/criminal [or 12] in need of a beating).

Tanktop Master: same as Superalloy. He wakes up at dawn, works out, eats enough to feed a small army, and then calls his actual army over for a meeting. He and the gang discuss ways to better represent the Tanktop ideology over tea, while also sharing workout tips and just having a good time together in general. Around then it’ll probably be 8 or 9 AM, so he’d join Superalloy at Hero HQ and do hero work for the rest of the day alongside his homies. He’s living the life, honestly.

Puri-Puri Prisoner: he’s in prison so he’d wake up at 8 AM on the clock every day, eat his nasty-ass breakfast (although, I’ve said in a previous headcanon that he gets special meals prepared for him on account of being a literal superhero, but I digress), and then he works out in the courtyard for a good hour before going to work in the cafeteria for 3 bucks a day (or the yen equivalent). During visiting hours, he and his boyfriend are inseparable. They’d make some crafts together, gossip, and just hang out. If there’s a threat in the area, Puri will waste no time busting himself out and hugging that shit to death. A true icon.

Amai Mask: he either wakes up at 10 AM or 2 PM every day, there’s no in-between. He’d spend his morning doing every self-care routine under the sun: taking a warm bath, doing a face mask, eating a good breakfast (prepared by his own personal chef, of course), listening to an audio book, you name it. If he has a concert that night, he’d spend the entire day surrounded by people as he gets ready/rehearses/prepares. If not, he’ll just patrol the streets, handing out autographs and some slices of justice. He wouldn’t really show up to any meetings or do official hero business at HQ unless he’s in the mood to cuss out Sekingar and Sitch over some stupid shit or insert himself in S-Class business.

Iaian: wakes up earlier than any of the other disciples and Atomic Samurai because he’s like, responsible or whatever. He meditates, showers, does his own personal routine, and then kicks everyone out of bed for breakfast like an angry suburban mom. After that, he’d participate in everyone’s routine training, and then take his ass to work while showing up to every meeting at HQ (sometimes tagging along with Kami) because he’s a good boi and he has no problem engaging in business. :)

Okamaitachi: She sometimes wakes up with Iaian, but sleeps in most of the time because she needs her beauty rest, obviously. After breakfast and participating in everyone’s training routine, she’d do her hair/makeup and go do her own hero work the majority of the time. She’d sometimes tag along with Iaian, but she prefers to go on her own every so often. If she has some extra time before breakfast, she’ll also do a face mask or catch up on her favorite soap operas.

Bushidrill: this motherfucker sleeps like a log and Iaian wants to kill him for it. He wakes up like, 2 seconds before breakfast and hasn’t shaven in a month. Still, somehow, he manages to get ready in time for training without Kami trying to assault him for being a doofus.

Fubuki: She wakes up hella early and texts her herd of hooligans the daily plan before dealing with Tatsumaki’s shit over the phone. Then, she showers, does her hair, and takes fifteen minutes to get her makeup done right. It doesn’t take her long to plan out her outfit because she has like, 87 black dresses. After an actual hearty breakfast (unlike the rest of these clowns) that she makes herself, she meets up with the blizzard group to discuss business and engage in hero work together as a ✨team✨. She never gets asked to participate in official business by HQ because Tatsumaki strictly forbids it.

Saitama: he brushes his hair and sits on his ass all day.

Mumen Rider: wakes up at dawn, feeds the cats outside, eats a good-ass breakfast (despite being poor, because he’s actually really good at budgeting), and goes out for a nice, morning patrol. He’ll also call his mom and make sure she’s having a good time because that’s important. If it’s not a busy day, he’ll go to the gym and treat himself to some time at the park afterwards. If there’s monsters all about, he’ll spend the rest of the day in the hospital after getting his shit rocked for the 300th time that week. They’ve basically got a bed reserved for him at this point. He’s so pure but so, so selfless. And a little dumb. But mostly selfless.

[gemstoneconstellations]

He Fucked Up

Summary: Bakugo carelessly hurts his s/o’s feelings without realizing it.

Wordcount: 2583

“Hey ___! What are you doing here? You look cozy.” Kaminari and Kirishima sat down on either side of you. Well, tried to. You were currently in a nest of multiple warm fluffy blankets that didn’t leave much space for anyone to get close to you. “Where’s your Pomeranian boyfriend?” Kaminari joked as Kirishima let out a deep belly laugh.

You smirked at Bakugo’s friends; they were feeling a bit bold since King Explosion Murder wasn’t around. “He went to get some training in. When he is done, he promised to watch a movie with me before he starts on homework. I’m sure he’ll make fun of me since it’s a cartoon movie, but I like them and I want to sit with him. You know, couple-y kind of stuff, since we don’t get a lot of time to be alone together and enjoy each other’s company.” You could feel a small blush form on your cheeks. Missing your boyfriend has put you in a cuddly mood. So even if you only get two hours, you’ll take it.

 “I have a hard time picturing Bakugo snuggling and watching cartoons… wait, didn’t we see Bakugo in the gym like three hours ago? Have you been waiting this whole time?” Kirishima raised an eyebrow at you, concerned.

 You gave him a shrug. “I’ll wait as long as it takes if it means I can spend some time with him.” Kirishima nodded, understanding where you were coming from and stating that they would leave when Bakugo shows up.

 Kaminari leaned back with his hands hooked behind his head, letting out a grunty sigh. “Ah man, I’m super jealous now! I wish I had a cute girlfriend who would do that for me!”

 “Like anyone would want to date you, Dunce Face!” Bakugo came walking in the common room, drinking from his water bottle. He was wearing some sweats and a tank top. His hair seemed to be damp so he most likely took a shower before coming over. You were absolutely beaming with excitement at finally getting to see his face!

 “Hurtful!” Kaminari complained but Bakugo kept walking to the kitchen, not caring.

 You smiled at Bakugo. “Welcome back, Katsuki. You have fun at the gym?” He just grunted at you from the kitchen. You could hear him pulling out random items. “Are you ready for the movie?” You lower the blankets, preparing to let your boyfriend enter your nest and assume the cuddle position.

 Bakugo came back from the kitchen eating a protein bar, a scowl on his face. “I don’t feel like watching some shitty movie.” Your heart drops. His tone was harsh and didn’t leave much room to argue.

 “What? But you said you would a few hours ago… you promised…” You pulled your knees to your chest, not able to look him in the face suddenly.

 “Yeah, well now I feel fucking tired. I’m going to finish up my homework and then go to bed.”

 You scoffed at him as you stood up, eyes on your feet, trying not to cry. “So you don’t feel like watching a movie with me and just want to go to your room to sleep?” Your voice came out more aggressive than you meant it to be, but there were too many emotions swirling inside you at the moment to control it.

 “That’s what I fucking said, I don’t want to watch some stupid kids’ movie. What’s your deal?” His words were like punches to your gut. You sucked in air through your teeth, trying to bite back words that you know will make the situation worse but you want to say them so badly.

 You began to fold your blankets and place them in your bag, packing away your things. “Nothing. Nothing at all. I’m fine.” You were completely and utterly done. Ironically, you were no longer in the mood to watch a movie either. Or see your stupid boyfriend’s face.

 “Bro… not cool.” Kirishima whispered to Bakugo, shaking his head.

 Before Bakugo could respond, you shoved the blankets that you took from Bakugo’s room into his arms. “Here, go sleep.”

 “Oi!” You ran out of the room with your things, not even caring that you were only in your pajamas. Bakugo shouted at you, but you didn’t look back and ran to your own dorm. Bakugo looked at the blankets in his hands and then at Kirishima and Kaminari. “What the fuck was that?”

 Kirishima just sighed, shaking his head and walking towards the elevators. Kaminari patted Bakugo on the shoulder as he walked by, following Kirishima. “And you guys call me the idiot. Even I’m not that stupid.”

 ~

 Bakugo was confused about what was going on with you. You had suddenly stopped texting him. Usually he would get at least three texts a day, whether he responded or not. You always said good morning, good night, and told him about the projects you were working on that day in your support classes. He didn’t think anything of it; sometimes you would disappear when you had some inspiration on a project. There have been times when you wouldn’t even leave the lab for days working on some support item.

 But there you were, sitting across the cafeteria, eating lunch with a group of extras he didn’t recognize. Not even a glance towards him. Normally by the time he got dragged into the cafeteria by Kirishima and the rest of the idiots, you would come up to him and pester him about eating together. Bakugo was starting to get an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach; he didn’t like it and it was pissing him off. He stared you down from his place in line, willing you to look up and make eye contact with him. After a few minutes, someone noticed him staring at you and pointed him out to you. You shook your head at them and continued to eat.

 Fine, if you wanted to sulk over some fucking movie then he’ll just ignore you as well till you stop being a damn brat. Bakugo grunted as he turned back away from you to get his food. He made sure to not look at you as he made his way to sit with the idiots that insisted on hanging around him for some reason.

 “No ___ today either? I misssss herrrr!” Mina pouted as Bakugo sat down, laying her head on the table with her arms spread out. His eyebrow twitched at her whining voice.

 Sero smirked at Bakugo as he patted Mina on the back. “What did you do now?”

 “Shut up Soy Sauce! I didn’t fucking do anything!” Bakugo slammed his fists on the table, his rage aura pouring out of his pores now.

 “He fucked up.” Kaminari stated a matter-of-factly; Kirishima nodded in agreement.

 Bakugo glared at the redhead, daring him to say something as well. He turned his attention to Kaminari, who continued to eat his lunch, not caring that Bakugo was giving him a death glare. “I said shut the fuck up Dunce Face! You don’t know anything!”

 Kaminari scoffed at him, letting Bakugo’s outburst just roll off him before pointing his chopsticks at Bakugo accusingly. “I know more about ___ than you apparently.”

 “What do you mean by that?!”

 “Use that smart brain of yours and figure it out.”

 Bakugo was adamant that he hadn’t done anything wrong; he was sure that you would come back. Everything would go back to normal once you get over whatever the fuck it was. But a few days turned into a week, then two weeks, without a single word from you and he was starting to falter. He was becoming more irritable (if that was possible for him) and his classmates were beginning to keep their distance, not wanting an explosion in their face.

 “Bakubro, dude, you need to man up and go talk to her already.” Kirishima threw an arm on Bakugo’s shoulders, the only one brave enough to do it as of late. Bakugo growled at him in response. He knew the redhead was right, but he didn’t want to admit it. Kirishima sighed at him. Why must his best bro be so stubborn?

 “How about this? I need to make some modifications to my costume. Come with me. If she’s there, talk to her about some modifications you want and then about what’s going on. She can’t turn you down if it’s about your costume.”

 With a groan, Bakugo started walking down to the hall, not caring if Kirishima was walking with him are not. Bakugo stormed into the support lab only to freeze when he saw Pikachu-reject already talking to you. His eye twitched as Sparky casually draped his arm around your waist as you were sketching out a blueprint. “So ___, since you and King Explosion Murder are on a break, why don’t we go get some food? I’ll give you a shoulder to cry on… or anything else you want to do. My body is at your service.”

 And to Bakugo’s horror, you didn’t push his arm off and actually fucking giggled. “Thanks, but I’m okay with just free food.” The next moment, the ash blond stormed over, yanked Kaminari’s arm off of you and dangerously twisted it behind Kaminari’s back as he slammed him down into the workstation. You yelped at the swift action and loud sound, looking at him in shock. Before you could even blink, Bakugo was dragging you out of the room. His grip on you didn’t let up as he kept pulling you along.

 Kaminari slumped to the floor, clutching his shoulder that had been so close to being dislocated. Kirishima squatted down beside him to see how he was doing. “Remind me never to hit on Bakugo’s girlfriend again? Also, I will never be part of your plans again.”

 “It worked, didn’t it? He just needed a little push. Thanks for risking your life… do you need to see Recovery Girl?”

 ~

 “Hey! Let go already!” You stumble into Bakugo’s dorm building. He didn’t let go until the doors of the elevator shut. You made a point not to look at him as you rub your wrist. Bakugo began to mumble beside you. “What?”

 This time he reached out for your hand, weaving his fingers through yours gently. “We aren’t on a break. No way in hell will I let you go out with anyone that isn’t me, especially not Dunce Face.” His hand quickly squeezed yours. “Can you tell me what the fuck is going on already? Is this all because of a stupid movie?!”

 You huffed angrily, turning away from him. “Of course it isn’t about a goddamn movie.” The elevator door opened and you were being pulled again, more gently than before.

 Bakugo didn’t say anything till you were both in his room and the door shut behind him. He leaned back on the door and crossed his arms, his stance challenging you to try and get away. “Talk.”

 You mimicked him by crossing your arms, closing yourself off from him. For a few moments, the room was silent, the both of you staring each other down. The question that had been bouncing around your head for the last few days finally broke the silence. “Why are you even dating me?”

 Not being around him hadn’t felt much different than when you were on speaking terms, only the loneliness increased as you avoided every opportunity to spend time with him that you would have killed to have before.

 His jaw dropped and his eyes widened in shock. Bakugo’s defensive stance faltered as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Haaah?!”

 Dragging your hands down your face, you let out a loud groan of frustration. “It’s like I have to twist your arm to spend time with you. What’s the point of being in a relationship if I only see you the few times you come to the support shop for mods for your hero gear?” You gestured to your support team jumper suit. Most of your conversations in the past have primarily during lunch and at the support shop.

 Bakugo rolled his shoulders as he let out a long sigh. “I’m aiming to be on the top, to be the number one hero. Of course I’m going to be fucking busy-”

 You interrupted him before he could continue a rant you have heard a million times. In the past you would admire his passion, just not right now. “Yeah! I get it! I know! I’m busy too, ya know! My to do list never seems to have less things on it despite how much I cross off. I still find time that’s just for you during my day. But you can’t even spare maybe an hour or two just to sit with me, maybe cuddle while watching a movie, and just enjoy each other’s company. All your focus on is being a hero, so what’s the point of dating me then?” It’s like you are the only one putting any effort into the relationship; all of his goes to becoming a hero, none left over for you.

 Bakugo scowled at you as he took a few steps toward you, his face becoming red. “Cause I fucking care about you, dipshit!”

 You blink at him, taken aback slightly before you crossed your arms. Turning away from him you mumbled. “Really? Could have fooled me.”

 It was silent in the room again; you kept your eyes busy by looking around his room. Not much has changed. “Do… you really think I don’t care?” Bakugo spoke so quietly, you barely heard him. Without glancing at him, you gave a small shrug.

 Next thing you know, you are being lifted in the air and then thrown on top of Bakugo’s bed. “Wha-What are you doing?!”

 “Shut up and fucking cuddle me!” Bakugo laid beside you, pulling you against his chest with his face pressed into the top of your head. His arms caged you in, wrapping around your shoulders and squeezed. After a minute, you slowly slid your arms around his waist, gripping at the back of his school uniform. His arms let up once he realized that you weren’t going anywhere. “Maybe… I could… do more. We could study together. Can’t really help with homework since we are in different courses, but…” He whispered into your hair, hesitant and unsure that you accept his attempt at an apology.

 You thought about it for a moment. This was him, in a way apologizing (though it would be nice to hear him say the actual words) and finding a compromise. And okay, you totally cutting him off without even saying what was wrong was probably not the best move either. You rub your face into his strong chest, taking in his burnt sugar scent. “Could we do this afterwards?” You look up at him with a small smile.

 The tension melted away from Bakugo’s face as he began to smirk. He pinched at your sides, making you giggle. “As long as you don’t pull another shitty stunt like what you’ve been doing for the last two fucking weeks.”

 You bury yourself into his chest again, hugging him tighter and closing your eyes as you enjoyed his warmth. “Deal.”

 “Also, don’t ever fucking let Drooly touch you again. I’m going to kill him later. You only need me to comfort you. I’m your fucking boyfriend, not him.”

 “I missed you too, Katsuki.”

[larryfanficwriter98]

Chapter Eight

*Fake It Until You Make It Real*

"What are you cooking for Halloween this year?" Liam asked as he and Niall sat beside him in the break room.

"If it's Shepherd's Pie count me in." Niall said eagerly digging into a mushy microwaved meal.

"Actually, you two are not invited." Harry said without looking at them as he dug into his own meal.

"Wait...what." Liam said confused, "we always come over for Halloween."

"I invited Louis to invite his family over so we can all meet and spend a day together."

"We're family." Liam pouted making Harry roll his eyes in amusement.

"Fine how about this I'll tell him Zayn can come as well and you guys can be there. You can be on babysitting duty."

"Perfect. So, what are you making?" Harry shook his head as he pulled his phone out, it was currently three in the morning and Louis was asleep, but he wanted to tell him before he forgot.

****

"Hi mama." Louis said answering the facetime with an eyeroll and a smile,

"You send me a cryptic text asking about my plans on Halloween and then you don't respond to my five texts."

"I was busy." Louis defended as he dumped the contents of his third junk drawer out and stared at everything, "God I'm a mess...how the hell am I a functioning adult with a child?"

"You can't be nonfunctional with a baby Lou. Do you need help? What's wrong?"

"What’s wrong is that somehow every drawer in this apartment has turned into a storage junk drawer combination. How did this happen!? I'm an adult."

"You're in your early twenties."

"Exactly an adult."

"Debatable." Louis rolled his eyes grinning at his mother, "why are you worried about your drawers?"

"I'm not worried about them I'm cleaning them out." Louis defended.

"What for?"

"It's October and my rent contract ends in November. Need I say more?"

"So, what's with the Halloween question?" She asked.

"Well Harry suggested we all get together at his place for a dinner and trick or treating. He usually makes a big dinner anyway with his family and he thinks it will be the easiest way for us all to meet." Louis explained.

"All of us as in his family and us?"

"Yes. Also, Zayn, Liam, and Niall. The last two are his best friends they always come for Halloween too and he thinks they and Zayn could be potential ice breakers if we need them to be."

"It sounds lovely Louis, what time should we be there."

"Anytime. Harry says it's an all-day thing at his place. He also has guest rooms if it gets too late since you have a long drive back home."

"I'll talk with the others, but I think we can make it. Keep me posted about it all and let me know if I should bring anything."

"Nothing except yourself and the others."

****

Saturday morning Louis glared at Harry as he climbed into his Murano passenger seat at eight in the morning.

"Good morning handsome." Harry said brightly, smiling wide as he looked at Louis which pissed him off more.

"Don’t talk to me Harold." Louis grumbled, "when I agreed to this, I thought I'd be waking up at eight not at six on a Saturday. I hate you so much right now."

"Oh, relax you'll be fine."

"So, what's the game plan when we meet him? Is he like expecting us to I don't know...like-"

"Louis we will be in a public place eating breakfast and talking to a lawyer. I highly doubt he's expecting us to swap spit together. Relax he just wants to meet you and probably make sure you're not y'know a call boy or something."

"He wants to make sure you didn't find me on Craigslist." Louis said smirking when Harry glared, his cheeks turning red, "the biggest thing he'll be looking at is making sure we're comfortable with each other which we are. He'll probably ask me how we met and things like that so have you told him anything I need to know about? Like if we have a favorite movie or whatever?"

"You're an ass but no I told him how we met and how long we've been together and how fast everything went with us, but he doesn't really care about the other things. He'll ask you about Freddie, he'll ask about your relationship with everyone and your family. He'll ask about your siblings and how Freddie is handling everything. He'll ask if I pressured you in anyway and if this court stuff influenced you at all. Just tell him what you told your mother that it did influence things but not in a negative way. He's not looking for a Saint he's looking to make sure we're not doing this for the wrong reasons."

"That I can do. Freddie is going to be pissed if he finds out I had Alabama's without him." Louis said watching as they turned into the car park for the famous restaurant.

"We just won't tell him." Harry said grinning at him, "come on let's get inside." Harry opened the middle console and pulled out his wallet and phone.

"He'll know. He has this like sixth sense whenever someone has Alabama's." Louis told him as he climbed out of the car,

"Then I'll take him to Alabama's for breakfast without you one day and we'll be even."

"Without me?" Harry didn't say anything only took his hand in his own and led him to the door opening it for him, "I don't think I like the sound of that plan Harold."

"Too bad."

****

Louis really did mean to go home after the breakfast meeting, but somehow, he had been coerced into coming back to Harry's place. Harry had fallen asleep two minutes after laying his head on Louis' lap which was how Louis found himself grading papers using Harry's back as his surface. Louis had a wet spot on his pants from Harry's drool and he was fairly sure his legs were permanently asleep and if he happened to have video footage of him snoring well it was potential blackmail usage for the future. It was also how he found himself completely trapped when his mother facetimed him at their usual Saturday afternoon time. He quickly ended it and sent a picture of Harry's head on his lap.

To: Mummy❤ Can't talk he's snoring too loud and no I can't move because my legs have lost all feeling. Raincheck? Also do you see that drool puddle on my pants?! He's 30! He shouldn't drool at this age! I thought they grew out of this?!?

From: Mummy❤ So Mister Perfect is not so Perfect??🤔

To: Mummy❤ You'd think!! But noOoOo. Even his snores are cute. 😒😡

Louis sat there grading papers and texting his mother about his breakfast meeting and the lawyer for a few hours until she had helped the girls with homework questions and around the house things. After finishing his grading finally, he absolutely had to get up to relieve his bladder. So, after a lot of maneuvering and cursing and not so gently guiding of a head he was finally able to stand and head to the bathroom. Once that was done, he headed back to the living room and after little debating, he curled up beside Harry on the couch pulling the blanket over them both as he took a very late in the day nap.

When Louis woke up it was extremely late, and he groaned rolling onto his stomach when he realized he spent his Saturday grading papers and napping.

"Good evening sleeping beauty." Harry said making Louis lift his head to stare at Harry with a glare. Harry wasn't fazed however and instead seemed even more amused as he leaned over and pressed a kiss to Louis' forehead.

"I was just about to leave you this lovely note here, but you woke up just in time for me to say it in person." That was when Louis noticed Harry was dressed in scrubs and a white lab coat and a jacket to fight the chilly air October brought. "I have to go. I made dinner though you can take the leftovers home if you want. I have a set of keys here for you so you can drive back home it's to the Murano I'll take my Audi tonight. I also left you a choice of pullovers all with medical dad jokes you're welcome. And I wrote down that you are more than welcome to stay here for the night. You don't have to leave. I also apologized for falling asleep on you and trapping you here." Harry said setting the note on the coffee table as he sat on the edge of the couch rubbing a hand over Louis' back. Louis groaned when he massaged his shoulder making Harry chuckle but also continue with both hands.

"Is this only with the finance package or does this come with the husband package as well?" Louis asked hearing Harry laugh as he kneaded between his shoulder blades.

"It comes with the husband package with added benefits." Louis laughed and swatting at him.

"Typical men." He complained chuckling as he looked at Harry rolling on to his back, "I will eat then I will go home and finish some things there and depending on the time will depend on if I come back. Deal?"

"Deal. The set of keys has the spare house key on them. Just make sure you lock up whenever you leave and before you go to sleep if you do come back. I need to leave before I'm late, I stayed as long as I could to wait for you."

"You could have woken me up."

"It's fine you probably needed it anyway. I will see you later either when I get home or probably during the week. We can have pizza together one night."

"Sounds like a plan. Have a good night. Save lives. Y'know typical doctor stuff."

"You too. Be safe driving and I'm not just saying that because you're driving my car. It's a Saturday night keep yourself focused."

"I'll be fine." Louis told him smiling, Harry huffed then leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss against his forehead then nose then he pressed a chaste kiss to Louis' lips before he stood up.

"Make sure you eat mister. Doctor's order."

"Uh huh. Whatever." Louis said kicking him lightly as he grabbed his keys and wallet. Harry's shot a playful glare at him before he rounded the couch and leaned over pressed another kiss to his lips. "Go...leave so I can go back to sleep and lie about eating." Louis said swatting at him.

"I want photo evidence of you eating." Harry said before he opened his front door and left the house. Louis laid on the couch for a solid twenty minutes before he dragged himself off of it and into the kitchen making himself a plate of the chicken stir fry before he headed home to finish up some cleaning before Freddie came home the next day. He did end up going back to Harry’s house mostly because he liked his tea options over his own, but Harry didn’t need to know that. Also he figured making himself much more comfortable inside the house would be a good thing considering their families were meeting here in a few short weeks.