#it’s sad o’clock in the morning today
Note
Hi I love EMTTS. Regarding the post about Steve getting harassed by “fans” I don’t see anyone actually confronting him in public. because people on the internet only have that much confidence because they’re anonymous . which in this case is great because a physical confrontation from a stranger is terrifying, let alone a stranger who think they know you and your husband . poor Stevie, poor Eddie <3
Thank you!!! And I agree!
I also don’t see someone actually confronting Steve in person either and when I tried to write it, it just never felt like a natural progress in the story. I also agree that people are more confident on the internet because of the anonymity of it. People are a lot bolder behind a keyboard than in person.
Also, Steve doesn’t drive. If he’s out in public, he’s typically with someone or he’s meeting someone. But I do think that the paranoia would sit in the back of his mind when he is out.
Steve often got coffee with Robin on Wednesday before the start of her late class and then he stopped. The last time they sat in the little coffee shop on the campus she teaches at, all he could think about was someone trying to hurt him and hurting her instead. Every time the bell over the door rang, it was a guy with a gun and a hatred for Steve so deep that they’d kill his best friend, and he couldn’t do it anymore.
He couldn’t sit in a coffee shop and pretend like he wasn’t scared to death, so he stopped going. He started texting her that he wasn’t feeling well or that he had a migraine, and he started just staying home.
The day that Steve leaves his lunch, his house keys, and half of his students’ graded exams on the kitchen table, he remembers the news story about Lady Gaga’s dogs being kidnapped. He remembers reading the story with mild interest, and then he can’t take Ozzy on a run that night.
He can’t even get out the door and he’s so distressed about it that Ozzy has to comfort him.
He can’t sleep. Every noise sounds like a person that hates him.
“Hello, Earth to Steve,” Eddie says, waving a hand in his direction. Steve startles and blinks at him as Eddie says, “Ground Control to Steve Harrington. Do you copy?”
“I copy,” Steve says, stabbing at his breakfast. His pancakes are soggy. “What?”
“You’ve been checked out for like, ten minutes, babe. I was about to break out the Springsteen,” Eddie grins at him. It’s a joke, and Steve feels like he should apologize but Eddie’s already moved on, “What’s got your brainwaves all tied up, huh?”
“Just thinking.”
“A dangerous thing,” Eddie jokes, wiggling his eyebrows. “Thinking about me?”
Eddie’s trying to get a smile out of him so Steve gives him one, but it’s small and it’s fleeting. He doesn’t feel like smiling when he stabs at his pancakes again and says to the plate, “I’m, uh. I think. I’m thinkin’ of retiring.”
Eddie drops his fork, “No shit, really?”
Steve meets Eddie’s eyes as best he can and he gives a smile that feels like there’s weight behind it, and then he looks away. He clears his throat.
He doesn’t say that he can barely speak to his students anymore. He doesn’t say anything about how he sees their young faces and he feels guilty. He feels shame and afraid because he never said anything about that first letter.
He looks at their faces and he thinks about all the good they can do, and then he thinks about the type of people that send hate in the mail, and what happens when that isn’t enough. He’s scared because every time he walks to the principal’s office to say something, he can’t find the words so he has to – “I think it’s time, Ed. To just – to get out of there.”
“Babe, you can go on tour with me,” Eddie says, eyes all bright with possibilities. Steve likes the look on him, and he nods alone even if he stops hearing the words. He only tunes back in when there is a hand on his cheek and Eddie looks concerned instead of happy, “Steve, you’re crying.”
“It’s just a lot,” Steve says.
Eddie strokes the side of his face and gives him a more subdued smile, “Yeah, it is. I think you should think more about it, babe. See if it’s something you actually wanna do, you know. That sound like a plan?”
Steve nods and his voice is a little tight when he says, “Yeah.”
#it’s sad o’clock in the morning today#I don’t think this even remotely answers the prompt but here we have it#I think that if Steve is getting threatened at his job than he’d question if it’s safe for him to even be there#eddie munson tiktok saga#steve harrington#eddie munson
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You're unbelievable (derogatory) | James Potter
Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 5.3k
Summary: You're best friends with James, but since his new relationship with Lily, you find yourself standing on the side more often than not.
Your friendship with James breaks when he has to choose between you or Lily, and it's only after the damage is done that he realizes the consequences of his actions.
Note: Lily's kind of a not cool in this fic. Not proofread, mistakes (grammar and maybe continuity because I rewrote the middle from memory) Time lines are wrong, howarts is endless.
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“James Potter, you’re unbelievable!” You exclaimed, and if not for the widest grin ever plastered on you face, those words could hold an entirely different meaning. You gave James a tight side hug while you clutched your precious gift to your chest.
“Well, you better believe it darling,” Sirius appeared on your left. “Prongs made us stand in line for that signed copy for eight hours. EIGHT HOURS,” he complained and shook James back and forth by his shirt collar.
“And not to mention, he woke us up at 2 o’clock in the morning for that,” Peter happily reminded him, and Sirius wailed at the memory and dramatically dropped to his knees. You stumbled back and James was quick to hold you steadily.
“Oh, quit it with the theatrics,” Remus mused, and he pulled Sirius up from the floor where he had slouched his entire weight against your legs. “It wasn’t that bad.”
Sirius huffed. “For you maybe. Because you secretly wanted to get your book signed too,” he accused Remus. Remus sheepishly shrugged.
James pressed a kiss to your temple, and you melted inside. “Happy birthday, love,” he whispered with a fond smile, and you bashfully looked away.
“Thanks,” you muttered awkwardly. Godric, you despised the attention that birthdays bring along.
“On that note, I’m heading towards the library,” you excused yourself. “But thank you guys so much for getting that book for me, I love you guys so much,” you said and blew them a kiss as you stepped backwards to the door.
“Hold on,” James frowned. “We’re not celebrating?”
“Uh, no I have to work on our Potions assignment.”
“Oh. Well, let me walk you to the library, yeah?” James offered, but you had an inkling feeling that it wasn’t really a question.
You laughed and pulled a face at him. “I can’t stop you anyways, can I? You’re an absolute menace, Potter.”
“I’m just trying to spend the day together.” James wrapped an arm around you and guided you towards the door.
“You know, the day on which the world has been blessed with your birth. And just as it was always meant to be, might I add, because look at where this led, such a perfectly beautiful day to celebrate.” He winked.
“Today is a wonderful day,” you hummed in agreement. “But you know I was supposed to be born late April, not March. So not really ‘as it was always meant to be’ at all,” you pointed out.
James rolled his eyes. “Uh, yes it was. Otherwise, we would’ve never met at the hospital and become bestest friends.”
“That’s not even correct gramm-”
“Besides, didn’t see you much today,” James unbotherdly continued.
You shook your head in amusement. “Come along then,” you pretended to relent in a joking manner. James was already pulling you along anyway.
You looked back at the rest of the marauders. “You guys also coming?”
You got an unenthusiastic hum from Peter and nothing from Remus, who was too deep in his book to have heard you. You looked at Sirius.
“Darling, I love you, but that’s six flights of stairs,” Sirius laughed, and he settled in on the sofa.
You gasped in fake horror. “So, is that the limit of your love for me?” You sniffed and pretended to wipe away a tear. “I guess-, I guess that’s it then. We’re just not meant to be,” you sighed.
“I know, darling. And I’m sorry. Just know, it’s not you, it’s me,” Sirius solemnly agreed.
You opened your mouth to continue your devastating-sad-ending-love-story when James, who had felt strangely annoyed at Sirius, impatiently grabbed your hand and pulled you out the door.
You enjoyed the feeling of walking hand in hand with James, even though it was short-lived. He let go of your hand as soon as he realized he was still holding it, and you two walked next to each other in a comfortable silence. Again, short-lived.
“I swear, one of these days, Lily might give me a chance. She smiled at me yesterday after supper, you know.” James happily bragged, eyes in a dreamy haze, no doubt imagining Lily.
You peered up at him and quietly admired his blissed look. It may never be directed towards you but seeing him so happy really made you glad and all warm inside.
Not that you’d ever let him know that.
Instead, you snorted at his words, tiptoed, and slung an arm across his broad shoulders. “In your dreams, maybe,” you sassed at him. James wanted to huff at your reply, but at your struggle to reach his other shoulder, he couldn’t help but laugh wholeheartedly, and he wrapped his arms around your shoulder instead.
“You’ve got to stop growing, James,” you protested and ducked out from under his arm.
“Quite the opposite actually, perhaps you should start,” he mocked you and you reached out to shove him but he put a step back out of the way fluently and then smoothly pulled back his shoulder just in time when you tried to shove him again. “So predictable,” he tsked. You opted to stick out your tongue instead.
“So,” James started. You hummed in reply. “Mum’s asking if you’re spending Easter with us again,” he casually mentioned.
“Oh really, Euphemia is asking me huh,” you teased him.
James looked away embarrassedly.
“Hm, not sure,” you shrugged nonchalantly. “Think I’m gonna be sort of preoccupied with my cousins from Ireland,” you looked at him through the corner of your eyes and caught his disappointed expression. A grin grew on your face like that of a Cheshire cat and you nudged him again.
“Oh, come on James, I’m kidding, you know. I’ve literally never not spent Easter with you. Besides, I live right across the street, James. I can literally come over any time, even if my cousins visit.”
“Yeah, but I meant like stay over at my house for the whole holiday,” James pouted. You glanced at him and smiled fondly. “Well, again; I live right across the street. So I guess I can also just go and visit my cousins at my house any time.”
You finally reached the bottom of the staircases and stopped mid-step. “Bloody hell, I forgot my books.”
You shot James a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I just have to go back up real quick, but it won’t be long at all-.”
“I’m right behind you, love.”
“You can’t be serious,” you gaped at him.
James was beaming. Sirius and Remus’ jaws were slacked on the floor and Peter frowned as if he was trying to comprehend James’ statement.
“She agreed to a date!?” Sirius shrieked out. “But-,” Sirius stammered and he let his eyes fall onto you for a split second. It was very quiet for a moment while all of you processed this news.
“Well, I’ll be damned, Prongs,” you grinned up at him. “Not such a far-fetched idea after all.” You smiled encouragingly at him and he shot you a grateful look.
“Congrats,” you nudged him, and that seemed to break the rest of the marauders out of it, all congratulating and offering date ideas.
You zoned out for a moment. A bitter-sweet taste in your mouth. You we’re thrilled for James. You knew how much she meant to him. But that little piece of hope that you had unconsciously clung onto, made the news tough to take.
Regardless, you were just happy to have James in your life. He was your best friend, and you would support him, no matter what. Because you knew he’d do the same for you.
“When’s the date?” you curiously asked.
James scratched his head. “Uh, next week, Friday night.”
“Wait, Friday when you were going to take me to see the blue crescent moon?” you deadpanned.
“I’ll take you to the next one, I promise,” James solemnly swore and he put his hand on his heart.
You huffed in disappointment but quickly turned around to face Remus with a sweet smile. “Remus, my best friend,” you started, and instantly got pulled back by James who wore a pout on his face.
“Wait, it was supposed to be a you and me thing,” he whined while he tugged you back into his side. You stuck your tongue out and ruffled his hair.
“You’re busy, and the next blue moon is going to be a full moon, so we’ll be with Remus,” you pointed out. “And after that, it’ll be another two years until the next.” Then you skipped back over to Remus.
James hummed in thought. He knew you were right. “Fine,” he reluctantly said. “But I’m taking you to watch the passing comet next month,” he bargained.
You stuck out your hand with a laugh. “Deal,” you grinned.
“It’s a promise,” James confirmed.
It became clear to you that you might have overestimated your own importance to James after he and Lily officially started dating.
Your eyes were searching for James, and you decided to confront him when you spotted him.
“James!” You ran to catch up to him. You smiled at Lily with a small wave. “Lily,” you acknowledged her. “Can I borrow him for a moment?” You asked her. She shrugged and waved her hand in a discarding manner, “of course.”
“Hey uh, you didn’t show up yesterday, just checking in?” you asked James in concern when Lily was out of reach.
James mind blanked for a moment. He was racking his brain about ‘yesterday’ and his eyes grew wide when realization hit him. “Bloody hell, I completely forgot!” He exclaimed.
“Yeah,” you laughed, relieved that he was alright and had just forgotten about it.
“Well you didn’t show up in the astronomy tower so I tried looking for you, but I couldn’t find you. I asked Sirius for the map, but can you believe it? He said he’d lost it.”
You chuckled when you recalled his apologetic expression and completely missed the way James shut his eyes and pinched his nose in guilt.
“I’m so sorry,” James said. He pulled you into a hug.
“Eh, don’t worry about it, Sirius joined me to watch the comet pass by. Wasn’t that impressive, but it did look like a falling star so I guess I made a wish, and-”
“Can have him back now?” Lily’s voice came from behind him, and he quickly released you. “Yeah, of course,” you rushed to say, but she had already grabbed him by the arm and led him away.
James looked back at you and mouthed a ‘sorry’ at you. You shook your head dismissively and raised your thumbs up.
It was only during the next missed hangout, two weeks later, that you found out he forgot because he’d been with Lily instead.
Peter had seen you off to find James, and had watched you return three hours later, a sad look on your face.
“Not again,” he’d groaned and slipped up. You couldn’t be angry at James because you realized that he was just putting effort into his new relationship. Peter had hugged you and you two had spent the evening sneaking into the art room to paint each other.
Peter was surprisingly a splendid artist and you had put the painting that he painted of yourself against the wall on the floor next to your bed, and gave Peter the one you painted of him.
“Damn, Peter,” James nodded at the canvas. “You painted that?”
“Huh? Oh,” Peter was getting dressed and pulled his sweater over his head. He looked from the painting to James. “Uh, Y/N did,” he beamed. “It looks good right?”
“You guys painted..?”
“Yeah, cause you didn’t show up again yesterday,” Peter casually mentioned. “You know, she was-“ He didn’t get to finish his sentence, because James had already sprinted out of the room to find you to apologize.
But as usual, James thought it had to be a grand gesture.
Flowers! Lily liked flowers. Girls like flowers, perfect. The idea popped up in his head, and he went to work to cover your entire dorm and bed with flowers.
It seemed like a perfect idea.
Until it evidently wasn’t.
“Shit, I’m so sorry, it slipped my mind,” James apologized for the thousandth time as he sat by at the side of the hospital bed with the rest of the marauders. They shared a look with each other.
“Well, I bet you’ll never forget about my severe flower allergy ever again now,” you joked in attempt to console him. Your face was swollen and your eyes were bloodshot.
You smiled at James and tried to push back the hurt you felt at the fact that he forgot about something as important as that.
“I’ll make it up to you,” James quickly promised with a grimace.
“Do you get that same sense of déjà vu or is it just me,” Sirius remarked from the other side of the bed.
“No, I get it too,” Peter agreed almost too quickly.
James frowned at his friends for the little jab. They knew he didn’t do it on purpose right? He looked at Remus for support.
“Better be one hell of an idea,” was all he said.
“Oh come on,” you attempted to kick Sirius weakly with your leg but failed because your legs were still half paralyzed.
“Stop giving him such a hard time,” you started. James shot you a relieved look.
“He’s already feeling shit for almost killing me,” you grinned and James groaned and dropped his head on the side of your bed. You moved your arm with some effort and let your fingers stroke through his hair.
“I’ll be the best best-friend there is, starting from right now. I’ve got so many ideas for Easter holiday and it includes your favorite chocolate,” he promised in a muffled voice.
Whatever you imagined his ideas for activities during the Easter holiday included, it wasn’t with Lily in the picture. Yet here you were, sitting across of her at the dinner table.
They were both deeply engrossed in each other and you and Fleamont shared a look.
“How’s your year been, sweetheart?” Fleamont asked and he looked at you over his glasses. You smiled at him, relieved.
“It was great so far, I mean, despite being bedridden for two weeks, but the guys have been great,” you jumped to talk about your adventures.
“I went to watch the blue crescent moon with Remus, and the comet with Sirius. And I’ve painted with Peter! I’ve got to say, he’s painted me in a flattering light,” you rambled on passionately.
“Oh, and we’ve started a study group thing together, it’s basically just Remus and I trying to help Sirius and Peter though,” you lightheartedly joked.
“We’ve played some harmless pranks too, like turning every toad into a cat and every cat into a toad, it was utter chaos!” You shared and at his disapproving look and focus on James, you quickly intervened. “Don’t worry, James didn’t do anything, he’s been good,” you joked.
You missed Fleamont’s raised eyebrows.
“I’ve been swimming in the lake with the boys and pranked Remus and Peter with Sirius and pretended to be merpeople, you should’ve heard their screams!”
Your eyes were gleaming at this point as you relived your happiest moments so far. “Well, until Remus cast a spell on Sirius that turned him into a slug of course.”
“So when the four of us went to Hogsmeade…” You continued to ramble on and failed to notice how James’ eyes subconsciously trailed over to you every now and then, listening in on the conversation and realizing his name never fell once.
Lily noticed his divided attention and was unsurprisingly and rather justifiably annoyed at James.
She voiced out her concerns to James that very night during which you had excused yourself and gone home across the street.
You didn’t want to third wheel and Godric forbid should you share a room with Lily. She hated your guts as it was and you didn’t feel like being smothered in your sleep.
When you had offered to go back home, you had sort of hoped he would say something along the lines of “No, please stay” and instead were met with a “Yeah, that’s probably for the best”.
And now, all he could wish for was chilling on his bed with you next to him while he was being chastised by Lily. His eyes glanced up and he stared at the enchanted bedroom ceiling full of stars, Lily’s voice long gone from his mind.
“Are you even listening to me?” She waved her hand in front of his face and he fought the urge to pull an annoyed face at her.
At his lack of response though, she repeated herself. “I’m your girlfriend. I thought you wanted this?”
James let her words sink in for a moment. She was all he ever wanted. And it was so so different from what he’d imagined it would be like.
Of course, he wasn’t planning on breaking up or anything, he didn’t want to be that douchebag that was only in it for the chase after all. And he hoped somehow that those feelings would return sometime.
She was everything he wanted. He just wished she’d be more interested in his friends, less disapproving of his pranks, or more proud of his achievements at Quidditch.
He would appreciate it if she were just a little bit more patient with him, and shared a little bit of his humour.
He just wanted her to be more open and enthusiastic about their relationship and himself.
He wanted her to be a little more like you-
He reeled back from that revelation. Oh.
Oh no. That would ruin his friendship.
“-and you know what, you can’t have both, James,” Lily continued and he snapped out of his thoughts.
“I can’t be your girlfriend if she’s in the picture. So choose. It’s me or her.”
James stared at her in surprise and then walked out of his room without another word to her.
He looked out the window at the real starry night sky. It seemed to him that he’d lose you regardless. But maybe, he’d be happy with Lily. She was all that matters, he convinced himself.
“Don’t you see how wrong it is that she’s making you choose,” you asked him incredulously, but your eyes looked at him pleadingly. James forced himself to look back at you and shook his head.
“No, she’s-, she’s right,” he mumbled, and you staggered back at that. “I mean, you’re a girl, you know?” You raised your eyebrows in an unimpressed manner. “Astute observation.” You dryly remarked.
“And everyone assumes things about us, so please, you have to understand that this isn’t fun for Lily either,” James tried. “I just can’t be friends with you and be in a relationship with Lily at the same time.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off.
“I can’t,” he urged. “And between you or her, I choose her. She’s my girlfriend,” he reasoned.
“And I’m your best friend since we were born,” you stubbornly retorted.
James looked at you beggingly, hoping that you’ll understand his predicament and that you’d make it easy on him. At the squint of your eyes and the deepening frown on your face, he gulped. “Please. I’m really sorry, but I have to choose her,” he finished weakly, doubling down on his decision.
Realizing that he wasn’t joking, it felt like he might as well have punched you in the gut. Your stubborn look flickered to hurt and then morphed into an ice-cold front of indifference.
You took a deep breath and collected yourself. You stared at him up and down, not recognizing your best friend in him anymore.
“You’re unbelievable,” you shook your head at him, and your voice was devoid of any emotion. With no other words to address the situation, you pushed past him roughly.
Months passed by and the summer vacation started. Then it ended and Hogwarts began again. All without a word from James. He had stopped spending much time with the marauders, mostly busy with walking after Lily.
Sometimes he would glance at you when she wasn’t watching, and he’d feel so lonely.
He waited for you during the vacation, but you never went to yourr house across his. Instead you spent your time with your cousins in Ireland.
When he made his way towards the platform on September 1st, he felt weird. First of all, he was slightly reluctant to go. He realized that he had thoroughly enjoyed his holiday without Lily.
But secondly, and perhaps most importantly; This was the first time ever that he went to the Hogwarts Express by himself, without you by his side, and an epiphany cleared his mind. Everything was so wrong.
You eyed him up and down. With lack of better words, he looked terrible. So terrible, that you might’ve pitied him any other time, because how could you ever be angry at James, when he looked so sad.
When his eyes are glassy and red. When his hair is disheveled as a result of an undoubtedly rough night. When his voice cracked at his sloppy apology. Or when his lips trembled almost unnoticeably when you said no.
But all of that wouldn’t magically clear away your own misery of the past months.
“I was supposed to be your best friend,” you enunciated slowly. “It’s always been you and me. Merlin, we’ve known each other since we were born and they ran out of baby cribs at St. Mungo’s, so they put us together in one!” you exclaimed.
You bitterly scoffed to yourself at the reminder of your literal lifelong friendship.
“But you cut me off for a relationship with Lily? Lily who rejected you for years and when she finally did agree to date you, never even gave you the time of the day?”
You stared at him incredulously and had to remind yourself to tone down your voice a little. You had unconsciously been raising it and didn’t want to attract unwanted attention.
“You followed her around like a lost puppy and cast me aside because she didn’t trust you for being friends with a girl and you were so easy to discard me,” you laughed humorlessly, trying to mask your hurt feelings. “I guess I must’ve really not meant all that much to you.”
To James’ credit, he at least had the decency of looking remorseful. His own words were replaying on a loop in his head. Of course he regretted it all.
“You can’t come back after that and expect me to just open my arms for you,” you firmly stated.
James looked at you helplessly, and you let out another laugh in disbelief. “Oh, Godric, you did,” you stared at him with wide eyes in surprise.
James could feel himself getting flustered and spoke up again. “I just thought that maybe-,”
“No, no, no. Like I said, I’m not doing this again.”
“Please, lov-, Y/N please, if you would just let me prove to you that you do mean so much to me,” His voice was getting increasingly more desperate. “I just want-, I need you to give me a second chanc-”
“A second chance? James, you are way past that. You’ve already had a second chance,” you bitterly told him. “Merlin, I’ve given you a second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth chance. I would’ve given you a thousand chances, but even that, you threw away.”
You tiredly rubbed your face. “I have nothing left to give you.”
Your words hit him in the face and his chest tightened.
“Oh… No, I-, I definitely understand.” His voice came out quietly.
James wanted to hide away. He felt utterly pathetic and ashamed at his own actions.
“I’ll uh, I’ll leave you alone, then.” He turned around but stopped mid step.
“But Y/N? If you ever change your mind, or if you ever need me, I’ll be there for you this time. Always right behind you.” James let his eyes linger on your face for a moment, taking you in. Merlin, he really missed you.
Your mind struggled to find the words to properly articulate all that you’ve felt these past months.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. For not trying to fight for you more,” you sympathetically offered.
“Oh, what? No, that’s-, it really was all my own fault. I chose her over you, and it was stupid. I was stupid, not you.”
“I don’t know. I feel like I should’ve tried harder to find a solution. I regret it too, you know, that we lost us.”
James frowned at your words.
“You-, I don’t even-,” you sighed. “I thought we would be in it for life, you know,” you eventually confessed, and James eyes widened. He wasn’t sure if he understood that completely, but his heart had made a small jump at your confession. Surely you didn’t actually mean…?
“Maybe not side by side as lovers or anything,” you quickly tried to cover yourself, but instead confirmed James’ thoughts. “But I was so sure we’d be partners nonetheless.” James watched you smile fondly, but sadly at the thought.
“I tried so hard not to be jealous of the fact that I was no longer the first person you’d go to for everything.” You chewed on your lower lip and James forced himself to pry his eyes away from it.
“You could be again,” James whispered to himself. But it was loud enough for you to hear it. You chose to ignore it and the way your heart tugged.
“But it was never an issue of jealousy when you actively forgot me on so many different occasions and then just kicked me out for her.”
“I'm sorry, I don’t know why I… how I even…”
“Look, I have to go,” you settled on, and nodded awkwardly at him. “But thanks for apologizing,” you added before you left.
You’d gone about your life according to the same routine of the past few months and paid James little to no mind. Though he was spending all of his time with the marauders again, you somehow found a way of disappearing right when he would arrive.
Days passed and James watched you laugh at the punchline of the joke that a ghost had told you. So close and yet so far.
James knew that you told him no when he had asked if things could go back to the way they were, but he couldn’t give up on you. It was as if something was physically stopping him from doing so.
He wanted you to see him again, but would never cross your boundaries, which left him in a difficult position.
The first opportunity presented itself when he overheard some guy talk shit about you. Except he only saw red instead of an opportunity. Because how dare they.
“She’ll give in someday. I’ll show her how to have a good time. Godric knows she’s too prudish, wouldn’t even let me-“
James surged forward before he could even think and grabbed the guy by the collar, his wand was pointed at the boy’s throat in a matter of seconds, a piercing glare on his face as he gritted through his teeth.
“Don’t.” It was a warning and the boy heeded it and scrambled away when James released him.
“What are you looking at,” he called out to the students that had stopped to watch what was happening. They too, quickly scrambled away, pretending they hadn’t seen a thing.
But by supper, everyone had heard about it, including you. You looked at him from further down the table and nodded at him with a appreciated smile.
James heart skipped a beat and he dreamed of you that night.
So what else could he do for you that would make you happy, he wondered while he wandered around the castle. The marauders were hanging out with you right now, leaving James to his own devices.
“Books!” He yelled out loud and it startled a cat. “Signed books had been successful, right? But what books, and how to…” He muttered to himself.
You stared at the pile of books that started to form next to you while owls flew in and back out again, only to return with more books. When you opened the one on the pile to your left, you saw that it was signed by one of your favorite authors.
Your eyes grew wide and you quickly inspected the signature from up close. Your hands stroked the beautiful hard back cover of the book. First copy.
People all over the great hall were looking at the spectacle but you just laughed and blew a kiss at the last owl.
You glanced at James because you knew it was him who orchestrated all of this. Only he would know all your favorite authors and books.
James simply offered you a smile and continued eating his food, but he was absolutely beaming inside at the gleeful look on your face.
You visited him in his dorms that night. “James,” you whispered. You held your finger to your lips as a sign not to wake the others.
“James, thank you for the books, they’re amazing,” you told him. “But James, you’ve got to stop. Don’t fight on my behalf. Don’t spend so much money on me. Please “ you begged him.
James’ smile fell. “I made you uncomfortable,“ he noted. You sighed and sat down on his bed. “I used to give you gifts all the time,” he weakly defended himself.
“I don’t want to forgive you,” you started. James looked down.
“You hurt me. Do you get that? You hurt me and broke our friendship and I don’t know when I’ll want to be friends again, but it’ll never the same when I do. So you have to stop doing all of this. You can’t try to buy it with gifts and heroic deeds.”
“I don’t want it to be the same either,” James sighed out in a defeated tone. “I just need you with me. One way or another. I’m not trying to buy anything, I just want to make you happy.”
You understood his words and the implied confession behind them. After all, you had felt the exact same way months ago.
You sadly smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. James closed his eyes at the contact and tried to savor the moment. You really were his greatest regret.
“I don’t want to forgive you,” you stubbornly repeated.
“You don’t have to. I just want to be there.”
“Right behind me, right? No matter what pace?”
“Of course,” he replied.
It took time. Months and months actually, where he respected your boundaries and slowly inserted himself back into your life, with your permission of course.
At first simply joining you with the marauders again. Then thoughtful actions such as giving you his spare quill. Later on even sitting next to you during Transfiguration and building up to study nights and eventually back to star gazing.
However slow it was, everything was worth it, James thought to himself as he opened the door to invite you in for the Easter holiday.
“Hi, thank you for coming over,” he widely smiled.
“Ah you know, I live right across the street, love.”
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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
Previous Part
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.
---
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
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara x reader#miguel ohara#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara imagine#atsv miguel#miguel o hara#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara scenarios#spiderman 2099#atsv x reader#atsv x you#miguel spiderman#across the spiderver fanfiction#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara x you#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara x y/n#spider man: across the spider verse#across the spider verse#miguel spiderverse#nonviolent communication#soft!Miguel O'Hara
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The Loneliest | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader
[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Epilogue]
Summary: Your fiancé missing your birthday is the icing on the cake to a horrible couple of months. Now, you’re left to pick up your broken pieces, ending the chapter in your life that includes Kylian Mbappé.
Warnings: Complete angst all the way through, Kylian being a bad fiancé, fighting, breaking an engagement, lots of crying, cussing, this one’s kind of long so beware. Spoiler: no happy ending. Let me know if I missed anything. — English is not my first language —
Mornings used to be your favorite.
You’d wake up way too early to the sound of Kylian’s alarm for your liking, but it didn’t even matter. The hour or so you got to spend with your fiancé before he left were sacred, it was special. They were filled with easy conversation, tired hugs and sleepy kisses on the shoulder, the occasional quickie, or at least a cheeky squeeze of your ass. It felt like very moment spent together was precious. You felt loved by Kylian so much it made your stomach turn with butterflies just thinking about him.
Now, it felt like those domestic moments were a distant memory. Sure, all couples gradually get less and less lovey-dovey the longer they’re together, but the change was drastic. It was like you barley knew him anymore.
You’ve attempted to start conversations with Kylian about this. Multiple times, in fact. Immediately, he’d get defensive, ending in arguments that kept getting worse and worse. It’s difficult to have to tip toe around your feelings in order to avoid a fight. He stopped making you feel special.
This morning, you woke up knowing it will be a hard day; all alone in your shared king sized bed.
Today is your birthday, and you don’t think Kylian knows this. After many weeks of deep reflection and thought, you know that today might be the last day of your three and a half-year long relationship with Kylian Mbappé — a man who stole your heart and still has it. Once treasured, now barely beating. The diamond sitting on your left ring finger had started feeling like a foreign object, like something your body wanted to reject. It’s lost it’s comfort, now you seemed to lug around old memories you clung onto for dear life.
Kylian didn’t come home last night, though you saw on his private Snapchat story that he was safe, sound, and plastered out of his mind at some club with friends you didn’t even know. He couldn’t find it in him to text you back after 9 o’clock, when that morning he said he would be home no later than 8:30. He found a simple ‘going out, don’t wait up for me’ to be sufficient communication for the night.
You called Kylian, instead it went straight to voicemail. Your texts to him weren’t going through, either. He didn’t have training this morning because the coaches had a conference in London, so you knew he had to be home soon.
Dragging yourself out of bed, you made your way to the kitchen for a bowl of bland cereal and coffee for one.
“Happy birthday to me.” You mumbled, looking down at your sad birthday breakfast. Compared to the last few years where Kylian prepared you a delicious meal, hired a chef, or took you out to the fanciest café in Paris — this meal actually made you lose your appetite.
Across town, Kylian was waking up with a pounding sensation in his head and no recollection of the night before.
“What happened last night?” Kylian grumbled as he woke up to the bright sunlight streaming in from the open shutters. His neck had a kink in it from passing out on his friend Paolo’s Airbnb couch in the early hours of the morning, his voice sounded like he’d swallowed gravel. “Fuck.” He covered his face from the blinding rays and felt around for his phone.
He hasn’t gotten drunk that heavily in so long, but when two of his old friends came to Paris for a few weeks, he couldn’t resist giving into their pleads when they’d asked him to tag along for a fun night on the town.
“Bro, you were so drunk last night.” He heard his other friend Bernardo chuckle, his voice almost gone as well from the festivities of the previous night. Kylian sat up, seeing both men looking half dead and clinging onto coffee mugs like a child would cling onto its mothers leg.
The guys chuckled in the kitchen. He smelled eggs cooking but they just made him nauseous. “What time is it? Where’s my phone?”
“Oh…” Paolo snickered and pointed at the bowl full of rice in the center of his kitchen island. “Yeah, man… I don’t know if the rice did much for it. It’s fucked.”
Kylian shot up toward his cell, not even remembering putting it in the rice last night. He carefully picked it up, the entire screen was shattered.
“Putain…” He attempted to hold down the power button just in case, glancing over to the microwave to see the time. 12:36pm. “Merde!”
He had an important meeting with his PR team about potential sponsorships for next years season at 2 o’clock, and if he showed up sweating whiskey with an obvious hangover, the brand reps might think twice before giving him any deals.
He bid his old friends goodbye but not before promising to go out again soon. A short taxi ride later, he was able to make it back home just a little after 1 o’clock.
Kylian bursts through the front door, booking it toward the shower in your ensuite bathroom, running right past you on the bed without a glance or even a hello.
You’d been trying to decide all day if you were pissed at him or just super sad, but seeing him ignore you that way made you realize that it didn’t matter. He stopped making you happy, making you both pissed and sad — a dangerous combination.
You get up and follow him in there as he hopped around trying to take his skinny jeans off.
“I’m gonna be late.” He panted, sliding inside the shower.
You assumed if he knew he would’ve said something… happy birthday… I love you… I’m sorry…
Curious and resentful, you stand close to the shower door so he could hear you. “Where are you going? I thought we…” You blink tears back, sighing and trying to get control of your wavering voice, “… I thought we could do something tonight.”
This wasn’t even the plan, but you were trying to find anyway for him to redeem himself.
“No, (Y/N). I can’t today, okay?” He snapped. “I’m in a rush. Can you please just pick out a nice outfit for me, quickly.”
You shake your head in disbelief, wiping a stray tear that rolled down your face, sniffling once. Kylian hears this and pokes his head out. “Hey,” his barely softer, “Look, sorry but I’m in a huge rush. It’s been a shit morning.”
“Me too.” You mumble, disappointment laced in your words but Kylian didn’t seem to catch onto it.
“Also, my phone shattered at some point last night, so can you call Thérèse and have her drop me off a new one at the training center?”
You huffed, getting control of your emotions that were simmering into anger. One more chance, you thought as you were about to walk out of the bathroom, you turn. “Do you want to do something when you get home? Maybe even just dinner here, a movie?”
“Maybe.” He said back, turning off the shower. All you could do is roll your eyes and bite your tongue. You were trying to give him every opportunity to come back from this.
You didn’t want to end it, but you promised yourself that if he fucks up today, that was it. You can’t keep hoping he’ll become the person he was before. He won’t listen when you talk anymore or even meet you in the middle. You have too much respect for yourself to settle for someone who can’t appreciate you.
You dry laughed. “Maybe.” You mocked, another angry tear rolling down your face, storming back into the bedroom and getting under the covers, arms crossed.
You wanted to sob, but choked it down when Kylian stormed out of the bathroom, wet and holding his towel up around his waist. “Why are you so moody?” He didn’t even look at you, just shook his head and threw his hand down, exasperated when he realized you weren’t putting an outfit together for him. “I just asked you to help me out.” He tusks. “Are you just going to lay around all day, then?”
You knew this tone. The one where something else was bothering him except he expressed it by nitpicking at anything in front of him. Being with him for so long, you knew how to gently pry out the real reason why he was snappy. Right now, there was no way were you even attempting to help him out in any way.
“Looks like it, huh?” You gritted through your teeth. You could practically feel the eye roll he gave you even though neither of you would look at each other.
He muttered something you couldn’t hear as he walked into the closet, hurriedly throwing on some outfit. “I didn’t feel like fighting today, (Y/N).” He growled and threw on a white hat. “Today has been miserable so far.”
“Miserable for you?” You gaped, face getting angrily red.
“Oh, don’t start.” He spat, grabbing his keys and walking out of the room.
You jumped up and stomped out of the room behind him, seeing him almost at the bottom of the stairs. “Kylian.”
He groaned, continuing to run down the steps. “I don’t have time for a fucking fight right now!”
“Kylian!” You yelled from the railing just as he grabbed the door handle. With an exasperated turn around, he locked eyes with your teary ones. “When you get home… we need to talk.” You didn’t try and hide your sadness this time, knowing how the talk was going to end. The sentence squeaked out, like your forced it.
He paused, taking his hand off the door handle. “Fine.” He said this differently upon seeing your broken demeanor, shuffling in place. Kylian checked his watch, looking back up at you. You stared back, watching him hesitantly leave your shared home.
Kylian knew he’d been fucking up with you lately. Coming home late, forgetting to call or text back, paying less and less attention to you as the season progressed. He knew he was getting too comfortable and at some point stopped putting in any effort. The worst was that he’d been taking his frustrations out on you, shutting you out. He watched as you tried to smile through his snarky and quick comments, feeling bad immediately but he just didn’t know how to deal with that kind of guilty emotion.
Your engagement has been a long one. Nine months in and you guys hadn’t even set a date yet. Time kept slipping through the glass, he wondered when the last time you’d even brought up the wedding was — wondering when the last time he even thought about it directly after.
The whole way to work he watched out the window, lost in thought about how he needs to be better. So much so that his driver had to tell him that they’d arrived. He was actually early. With a big fake smile on his face, he did his best to set it all aside, turning on work-mode.
Meanwhile, you had a really nice cry. The kind where you just let it all out because you knew no one was around to hear or pity you. Once you pulled yourself together, you gathered your suitcases from the attic.
It was obvious you couldn’t take everything that was yours. You’d bought so many things for this place, for your shared home… so you focused on the things you were for sure taking with you. All your clothes, makeup, sentimental items, and the fruit bowl you found in a market in Spain were secured inside your bags. You stopped and cried so many times… over a pair of shoes that he bought for you or a picture that brought back sweet memories… all these momentos felt wasted.
Yesterday, you were certain that he would remember what today was. So certain that you convinced yourself you didn’t need to get a hotel. You wished you did, because doing it today felt so final, so depressing. And, upon looking at your empty side of the closet, vanity, side table, bathroom shelf… you had to pull yourself together and be strong. Remind yourself why you’ve resorted to this.
Back at the training grounds, Kylian snapped his last photo-op with the CEO of some athletic wear company, absolutely drained from having to pretend for hours. He had sent his assistant off for a new phone when he saw her, knowing you didn’t text her about him needing one.
He trudged over to Hakimi now that all of that was over, sitting down with a long huff, placing his head in his hands. He hadn’t talked to him all day, being occupied with offers and whatnot.
“Man, I’ve been texting you all day.” He patted his back once, turning to face him.
Kylian looked up at his friend, shaking his head. “It broke last night. Thérèse is out getting me a new one now.”
Hakimi sensed there was something bothering Kylian, but knew not to approach him too strongly. He nodded at his answer. “So, uh… I bet (Y/N)’s pissed, right?”
Kylian blew a raspberry. “Oh, yeah… so pissed…” He nodded with the most exhausted look on his face. “Wait, how’d you know that?”
“Well, I mean, Hiba would be pissed too.” Kylian raised an eyebrow, still confused on how he knew about your fight. “You know, if I had to work on her birthday like this.” He laughed at the thought. “I’d have a lot of groveling to do. Or, did you guys plan something on a different day?”
Kylian gazed up at Hakimi, eyes widening with the vague memory of todays date. “Wait.” He gulped, hands hovering over his head. “Is today the…” he flipped the calendar in his mind, praying that Achraf was mistaken about that. “Ah… merde! Putain! Shit!” Kylian smacked the table and bounced up out of the chair, heart beating a million miles a minute.
Hakimi stood too, watching Kylian pace with his hands cradling his head. “No… Kylian, you didn’t…”
He nods, panic settling in hardcore. “I yelled at her today. I asked her why she was being moody. I didn’t come home last night— ah baise moi, mec. je suis un putain d'idiot!” He cursed himself. Ah fuck me, man. I’m a goddamn idiot!
Thérèse speed walked over to the man in crisis, holding a brand new phone. “All your data’s transferred and everything!” She cheered. Kylian probably didn’t even thank her, going directly to his messages with you to text you that he’s so sorry and coming home right now. When he clicked on your icon, he saw all of the messages you sent him last night
You: Ky will u please come home — 9:25 pm
You: I know ur friends are in town and all but I seriously need u with me tonight — 10:48 pm
You: hello?? — 11:51 pm
You: are u okay? Do u need a ride? — 1:35 am
You: I’m getting worried. please just reply. I need to know ur okay Kylian — 1:40 am
You: nice Snapchat story. Good to know ur fucking fine. — 2:46 am
He ran a hand over his face, beginning to sweat with guilt. His eyes lowered on the screen, the small grey message by the keyboard truly making his stomach knot up even more.
(Y/N) stopped sharing their location with you.
His heart fell in his chest, churning… he felt like he was going to puke. Suddenly all of the conversations you tried to start with him about his behavior over the last six months came flooding back. The same conversations he moaned and groaned though, always deflecting until it turned into a fight. God, how badly he had been treating you… like you were a menace in his life — when really, without you, he wouldn’t be able to go on the same.
He began trying to call you and gathered his things, but his calls simply rang until it went to voicemail. “I-I have to go.” He stammered, almost tripping over his feet. Hakimi watched, shocked at the state of his best friend, knowing how he could get sometimes.
Kylian jumped in the town car as fast as his world-renowned legs could get him there, giving the driver instructions to get him home, and quick. The whole way he cussed at slow drivers, construction workers, red lights. He checked his new phone for the time; 10:37 pm and still fifteen minutes away from home.
God, please let her still be home.
He won’t know what to do with himself if you just left.
‘We need to talk’ rung over and over again in his head like a jinx. The way your voice cracked, the tears he saw you hold back. She’s so strong, he thought.
I raised my voice at her. I forgot her birthday and then treated her like she was the problem.
He pinched his leg to distract himself from crying. He has to be level headed, calm, logical, loving, and very apologetic— everything he hasn’t been for the last months. He knows he doesn’t deserve you, but can’t imagine what his life, his future will look like if he lets you slip through his fingers.
No girl has ever made him feel like this. Everything he looked for in a woman you embodied tenfold and he fucked it up. He has to fix this.
Kylian didn’t even let the car come to a full stop when he arrived, tripping over his own feet, realizing he left his coat in the back seat but really not caring at all. He just has to know you’re there. He looked toward the driveway, seeing your car still parked in its usual spot.
Thank the lord.
Fumbling with the keys, his shaking hands clicked the door open, seeing only the living room lamp on.
“Bébé?” He called. He saw your figure looking at him from the couch. “Oh, (Y/N)…” he breathed, walking over to get closer. You stoop up, meeting him halfway. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He heaved, breathless from his pounding heart.
The dull yellow light illuminating the side of your face showed him how puffy and red your eyes were, how downturned your usual smile was. He saw what he’d done to you, all the months you’ve had to walk on eggshells, the conversations that he’s turned on you, how he forgot your special day.
You still didnt say anything, keeping your arms crossed, looking him in the eye — the while begging yourself internally not to cave. His sweet eyes knew how to reel you in. You weren’t going to cave. You couldn’t.
“I forgot your birthday…” He whispered sadly, guilt drenched his tone, sending a cold depressing shiver down your spine.
Your eyes brimmed with tears again, but you bit your cheek and shook them away, having to be strong for yourself. “So, you finally remembered.” You sniffled.
“I’m so sorry, bèbè. Time just…” he stopped himself from making anymore excuses, “I’m just a fucking idiot. And I’m going to make it up to you. I promise, I’ll make it up to you.” He stammered, voice shaking from nerves.
“But, it’s not just about the birthday, Kylian. It’s been… it’s..–”
“–I know, bébé. I’ve been horrible to you. Truly horrible. You never deserved any of that.” He cautiously lifted his hand to yours, grabbing your fingers. All the words he was going to say suddenly didn’t feel good enough. No I’m sorry is going to feel sufficient.
You looked at your tangled hands, he played with your fingers anxiously, trying to catch your gaze, but it now stayed glued to the floor.
You took a deep breath and looked up at him with teary eyes — that of a wounded puppy. It broke him. “We need to talk.” Your words were laced in false strength, false confidence.
You didn’t know what the hell you were going to do once you leave him. Flying blind isn’t something you did very often, but you knew it’s what had to be done.
“Yes.” He nodded eagerly, trying to guide your hand toward the couch to sit. “Let’s talk. We can talk this all out, right?”
His hopeful tone made your heart break even more. The guiltiness that radiated off of him made it harder to do what you had to… his face fell when you let your hand slip back into your folded arms, turning away from him, sniffling.
“Kylian, I can’t… I can’t sit down with you and hold your hand and let you apologize to me. It’s not how this is gonna go.” Wiping your cheeks roughly, you turned to see his dropped face. “This talk… it’s going to be really hard. For both of us.”
He approached you, putting his hands on your forearms. “You’re scaring me, bèbè.”
Your lip quivered, not knowing how to tell him. You couldn’t look him in the eyes. “Kylian. I love you.”
“I love you too. I love you so much, (Y/N). I know we can work through this. I know it.” He pleaded, moving his face around to try and get you to look at him.
“No, Kylian. I love you, but…” You finally looked up, noticing he’d started crying as well. Ouch. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”
He didn’t know what he was expecting. Sure, he was scared and sorry about what he did but the possibility of breaking up seemed impossible. Not like he was immune to repercussions, but you two just made sense. He loves you impossibly too much, but he’s forgotten to show you.
Kylian stood in shock, he felt his heartbeat in his teeth, his throat dry. “Don’t say that.” He whimpered. “Please, don’t say that.”
His hands traveled up to hold your face and he bent down to your level, needing you to look at him, to see how regretful he was, how much harder he will work at this. He touched his forehead to yours, wrestling with the temptation of falling down from anguish.
You shook your head between his palms, letting the tears fall freely, a small sob escaping. He wiped away the tears with his thumbs, attempting to hold you closer, squeaking out the smallest words; “Bèbè.” “No, no.” “Please.” “I’m so sorry.”
You grabbed his wrists, using all your strength to pull them from your face. Immediately, you turned around and grabbed a duffel bag he hadn’t noticed was sitting on the armchair. Your feet took you toward the exit.
“No.” His voice broken, his own face scrunched up and soaked with tears. “No, where are you going?”
It took everything in you not to comfort him, run into his arms, tell him it will be okay.
You pushed your instincts down and turning and shrugged instead, now feet away from the man you love, closing in on the front door. “I’m…” You felt a choking sob threatening to spill out of your mouth and had to look away, silently crying out with your hand covering you mouth. With a deep breath, you continued. “I’m leaving.”
“Well, when will you be back?” In just a few strides, he was back in front of you. He couldn’t help but hold your face again, wiping more tears with a gentle but pleading touch.
You gripped his wrists again, only this time, you weren’t strong enough to pull them away, instead feeling his warm skin one more time.
With a small shake of the head, you responded. “I’m not coming back, Kylian.”
“But… but this is your home. It’s our home.”
“I’m sorry, Kylian.” You finally ripped his hands from your face once more and adjusted the heavy strap on your shoulder. Turning around, your feet drag you to the front door. You reach into your back pocket and take out the house key that’s not longer attatched to your usual tassel keychain and set it down on the table.
He stood there and watched, now feeling helpless in this heart wrenching situation. It doesn’t seem like this is real, he has to be having a nightmare, just watching you leave his life and there’s nothing he can do about it — but it doesn’t stop him from trying, begging. “Amour, no. I can fix this, please just give me a chance to make this right.” He was desperate, once again approaching you.
Kylian sniffled, watching your every reaction, hoping for a glint of anything that would allow him to make it up to you. You looked down at your hands, then your left ring finger… everything in your body was holding you back from taking it off, but you mustered up every ounce of self control.
Kylian looked away as you slid the engagement ring off, hearing the light clink of it being set next to the keys. With his hands at his sides, back slouching, he looked back at your face, nodding in defeat.
“I’m sorry.” You repeated in a squeaky whisper.
“Me too.” He nods, looking down at your empty hand. He couldn’t but reach out, trapping your fingers delicately with his fingers, stepping closer.
His arm snakes around your waist, holding you, shaking with his suppressed cries. You allowed yourself to hug him back, to close the chapter, to feel his warm embrace again before you never would again.
The hug lasted for a while, swaying back and forth and crying into each others shoulders. He smelled like he always did, and you noted how hard it would be if you came across his familiar scent again. He also was getting high on your fumes, indulging in the coconut scented shampoo he had become addicted to. The touch of your hands clasping at his back made him cry harder, squeezing you tighter and lovingly.
You pulled back once your cries calmed, sniffling. He stayed close, lifting his eyes to look into yours. Before he knew how to stop himself, he closed in the space, landing his salty lips on yours, closing his eyes. You kissed him back, hating how much you’d miss him. The way his fingers dug into your hips made you lightheaded.
It’s too hard to stop, but you had to. Pulling away, you turned around quickly and left, sobbing all the way to your packed up car.
Kylian was glued in place. His heart had been put through a blender, his head throbbed, his chest was cold without you with him. He saw the flash of your headlights backing out and leaving the property reflect inside the dark and empty home.
He’s miserable, hollow. He’s angry at himself, maybe at you, even if he knows this was his own doing… the whirling in his brain wasn’t anywhere near as loud as the silence after you left — a deafening silence that followed him up to us bedroom, one he now only shared with his thoughts.
It killed him when he saw there was no longer a charger plugged next to your side of the bed, that your slippers were gone from their usual spot by the corner. None of your favorite books were displayed on the shelves, your skincare products left just a ring of residue on the sink. Stepping into the closet, he noticed it still smelled like you, but everything was gone. Everything but the shirts of his that you had stolen through the years, now neatly folded on top of one of his dressers. He wished you had taken them to remember him. He wished he could turn back time and do everything right.
Above all the sadness and the gaping hole is his heart was determination. He fucked up but he wasn’t about to do it again. You would not be the one that got away. It may be the last thing he ever does, but he’ll make it all up to you. He was prepared to go to the furthest lengths to hold you again. But, for now, he needed to wallow in self pity, feel everything that he needs to feel.
Not even on the chilliest Parisian night had his bed felt as cold as it did that day.
A/N: Okay I feel like I kinda dragged that out but angst! I’m contemplating a part 2 but I also kinda like leaving it at this… would y’all want another part? Also, the title is inspired by the song The Loneliest by Måneskin, listen to it after reading. Their new album is so fucking amazing. — Requests for Kylian Mbappé are open! —
#kylian imagines#kylian mbappe#kylian mbappe angst#kylian mbappe fluff#kylian mbappe smut#kylian mbappé x reader#achraf hakimi#kylian mbappe imagine#kylian mbappé imagine#kylian x reader#kylian mbappe x you#kylian mbappe blurb#kylian mbappe fic#Kylian mbappe break up#neymar#neymar imagines#neymar jr imagine
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⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
all you wanna do is kiss me - pt 2
summary: a follow up to the first part 🤭
warnings: alcohol consumption & people being tipsy
a/n: I HOPE THIS ISNT BAD LMAOO
it was two nights after the grammys, and billie was fretting. you had given her your number at the end of the night, but billie was still too scared to text you. she lay in her bed, not knowing what to do. you were very nice about giving her your number - eager, almost, but billie was still too nervous? what if she said something weird? what if you didn’t want to talk to her? there were so many bad scenarios possible.
billie looked at the time. it was 5 to midnight. would you even be up? would you be asleep? were you talking to someone else? she was scared. very scared. she went downstairs and made herself some coffee, and sat at the breakfast table. she contemplated what to do. as she was scrolling through instagram, she saw you had made a new post. two images, both very risqué. the caption was just the telephone emoji. billie blushed, and took it as a sign to text you. so she did.
billie sent you a simple ‘hey’, not expecting you to reply till morning. but within five minutes you responded back with ‘who’s this?’. billie had forgotten that you had only given her your number, and you hadn’t exchanged them.
it’s billie
oh hey!! how are you?
i’m good, hbu?
the conversation continued well into the night. it was 4am when you finally said ‘look, i’ve gtg now. it’s really late.’ billie was sad but responded with ‘yeah it’s super late’. but before you went to sleep you asked her ‘would you like to come round to my house tomorrow? well, technically today.’ billie immediately typed back with ‘i’d love that’
sounds good. i’ll send you my address later. also - bring a swimsuit. we can get in my pool!
that sounds really nice! what time should i be there for?
uhhh, maybe at half 6 or 7? i’ll cook up a bit of dinner.
sounds great! see you then!
despite billie’s coolness over text, she was absolutely freaking out. dinner at your house??? getting in your pool???? she wasn’t able to sleep after that, too nervous to focus on anything else. thankfully she wasn’t doing anything that day, so she could try to figure out what to wear and should she bring anything.
fast forward to midday, billie was eating her lunch, still thinking over what she might wear? a tshirt and jeans? a dress? a jumper? the options were endless, but none seemed right. she couldn’t just ask you what to wear as well - that’d be weird. billie finished her lunch and went back up to her room to decide what to wear. as she opened her wardrobe, something caught her eye. a top she had worn from a concert she did in dublin, with marilyn monroe’s face as a pattern on it. she knew she’d wear it, but she had to find a swimsuit to wear first. she rifled through a drawer until she found a simple black one, nothing too special but nothing too drab either. she took off the pyjamas she was already wearing and stuck the swimsuit on. after that, she put on the top and paired it with some black shorts, nearly replicating the previous concert outfit.
five o’clock came quicker than billie thought, and soon after that she was on the way to your place. although you both lived in LA, you were pretty far from eachother. so billie decided to be safe rather than sorry & left early. when she got to the door, she hesitated to knock. your place was so big & modern that she was slightly intimidated by it. but after a minute of careful consideration, she knocked. you answered the door in seconds, dressed in a short dress. billie’s heart skipped a beat as you led her inside. she followed you to the kitchen, where she smelled the familiar aroma of her favourite noodle soup.
“i followed the recipe from your insta highlight,” you said, “so i hope it’s alright. i’m sure you make it better than i do.” billie thanked you for the meal as you both sat down at the table and began to eat. you talked about a lot of things… the grammys, the media, upcoming tours, etc. billie found herself falling more and more in love as the conversation went on. about 20 minutes later, billie finished her noodles at the same time you did, and again thanked you for it. you smiled and said it was no bother. “how do you fancy getting in the pool now?” you asked. “that sounds really good,” billie smiled, “i’ve got my swimsuit on under this, actually.” your smile lit up even further as you replied “i do too!”
you both got out of your clothes and hopped into the pool. “its so warm.” billie remarked. “yeah, i have heaters in it.” you said smiling. billie looked you up and down, in awe of your swimsuit that made you look like a goddess. you swam around together for a while before you left the pool, saying you’d be back in a minute. “ok, see ya in a minute.” billie replied, wondering what you were doing. billie was surprised when you came back with two wine glasses, and a bottle of a really expensive red wine. “wow,” billie said, “is this for us?” “well, who else would it be for?” you laughed. you poured the wine into the glasses, and handed billie one. she took a sip, and watched as you did the same. “it’s really good,” billie commented, “don’t think i’ve had this before.”
as the evening went on, you and billie drank more wine, and slowly got more tipsy. you smiled at billie as she told you about a song she was in the middle of recording, her face lighting up in excitement. “you’re so pretty.” you said abruptly without a warning. billie blushed. “so are you.” she responded, the alcohol making her more confident. “like- really pretty,” you went on, “super pretty.” billie didn’t know how to respond. being complimented by the woman she had a massive crush on? she was blushing like mad. “i could- i could just kiss you.” you said, a smirk on your face. billie didn’t respond as a shocked expression took over her face. you waited a few seconds before leaning in and kissing her. billie kissed back immediately, setting her glass on the side of the pool. you kissed her passionately, and she did the same. you continued like that for a while, until you were making out with eachother.
“wow.” was all billie said. “you’re a good kisser.” you remarked, a hand still on billie’s cheek. “i- i really liked that. like, really liked that.” billie confessed. “me too.” you smirked, before leaning in to kiss her again.
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Minor Ear-Mergency
Anon Requested
Masterlist
“Are you sure you don’t want to change out of your pjs? You can wear your gameday outfit, I know it’s your favorite.”
The toddler in front of you shakes her head, “no thank you. I want to wear this for the game.”
You shrug, grabbing the black ‘Bolt Up’ lightning rod shirt and blue pants with the #10 iron-on patches on the side. Remi wore these clothes every Sunday…without fail. So today’s answer was a rare occasion to put it lightly, but you didn’t want to push her first thing in the morning so you let her do whatever felt right. You even opted to stay in your pajamas as well, in solidarity of course.
The next time you gave her a funny look was when she barely ate her cheesy eggs and complained of having a headache an hour later. By the time the two of you sat on the couch for kickoff at 1:25 pm California time, she was half asleep. One of her arms was wrapped around you, as best as she could with your belly in the way, while the other one was securely holding on to her stuffed animal.
Even though she barely knew what was going on, she loved watching her dad on tv so you knew something was off. Your continuous suspicions were confirmed with one simple act of placing your hand on her forehead and checking her temperature.
“My ear is hurting me,” her pitiful cries and groans of pain have you on the phone with the pediatrician at the start of the fourth quarter. She gave you little home remedies to try and scheduled Remi for an 11 o’clock appointment the next morning. You could practically hear Justin in your ear lightly scolding you for not having an extra bottle of children’s Motrin in the house, but the universe was secretly on your side because the one in your hand was just enough for a few full servings. Long after the medicine should have kicked in your daughter still had fresh tears rolling down her cheeks, sniffling like she was trying to bite down the sadness.
“Oh sweets, is your ear still bothering you?”
She gently shakes her head no, scared to make any sudden movements in case that would make the pain return. “I need daddy but he’s not here,” she whimpers, leaning on your arm and practically using your sleeve as a tissue.
“I know baby. But he’ll be back tonight and you’ll see him as soon as you wake up,” you sigh, knowing that isn’t what she wants to hear. Feeling like it was your duty as a mom to come up with a solution, you sat there for a minute, running your fingers through her hair until it hit you. “I have an idea,” she stares back at you, her eyes a little wide with anticipation, “I’ll be right back. You stay here.”
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Remi allowed you to be out of her sight long enough to throw one of Justin’s shirts in the dryer for her to rest her head on, smiling to yourself when she let you know that she still missed her daddy, but this was good enough until she got to see him in the morning. Adding another baby to the chaos was a daunting idea in moments like this where although you loved your husband and this life that the two of you had built, you were alone…a lot. You had to think on your feet alone, a lot. And of course he did everything in his power to be an active parent and husband when he was home but that didn’t change the fact that right now you had a sick child to take care of and he was on the other side of the country getting chased by grown men in tights. That thought had you chuckling to yourself, thinking about two extremes, drowning Remi’s tears and snot or praying that the offensive line would keep him upright for the better part of three hours.
Justin came home later that evening, leaving his shoes by the door and tiptoeing around the house. When you texted him before the flight home that Remi wasn’t feeling well there was a pit in his stomach at the fact that he wasn’t there. He knew you could handle it but that didn’t take away his feeling of being a terrible partner. There is always an upside and a downside to things, especially being a working parent who’s job is more demanding than the average person and you never made him feel bad about it or tried to use it against him. But his mind sometimes allowed him to think of the worst case scenario. He never wanted to miss any moment, not with you and definitely not with Remi and even the little things like an earache made him want to drop everything and fly home. As soon as he passed by the living room to head upstairs, he caught a glimpse of a view that made all the doubt and negative thoughts leave his mind.
There you two were, sprawled out on the couch covered in blankets. NFL network was still on in the background as Remi was curled up into a ball with her mouth slightly open, as close to your body as humanly possible. And even in deep sleep, you held onto her. Justin smiled to himself, taking a mental image as a reminder of how worth it this all is, no matter the sacrifice. He’d rather compromise with you, create this life with you and have a life outside of football than the alternative because this? The view in front of him? That was everything.
And he needed to put a stop to it immediately.
He slowly walks over to the couch, scooping Remi up in his arms and she doesn’t even bother to open her eyes, securing her arms around his neck and sleeping peacefully like nothing happened. As soon as her weight is gone from your orbit you begin to stir, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up.
“Hey there sleepyhead,” he whispers, “let’s go upstairs and get some sleep. The couch isn’t good for your back.”
You yawn, sitting up and already feeling the tightness in your muscles thanks to the increased weight in your front. Justin holds a hand out for you to grab so you can stand up and the three of you head up to your bedroom for some much needed rest.
A mild ear infection. That’s what the pediatrician told you this morning and that she should be fine completely recovered within the week, which was honestly the best case scenario. You texted Justin the news and he let you know that his Monday lift and meetings were done and he’d be home for the rest of the day.
“Can I have lava for lunch please?” Remi asks innocently, holding Justin’s hand. She hadn’t let him out of her sight since she walked in the door and found him standing in the kitchen. He couldn’t even go to the bathroom without her standing on the other side of the door.
“Lava?” He mouths at you.
“Tomato soup,” you laugh. “While you feed her I’m gonna head to the store real fast and grab more medicine and a couple other things we might need.” Moments like this didn’t come often, so you had to take advantage of this toddler-free opportunity and get some stuff done before Justin had to go to practice later this week. You headed out quietly, greatly enjoying the sight of Thing One and Thing Two having an intense conversation.
“Oh daddy. Can I have some Gatorade too please?”
Justin narrows his eyes, ready to bargain with the toddler. “How about this, you finish your lava and I’ll give you a little bit of Gatorade. Deal?”
“Otay, I try.”
Less than halfway into her bowl of soup, Remi said she was done. “Are you sure you don’t want to finish it? No lunch means no Gatorade.” He tried coaxing her into taking a few more bites but she just wasn’t having it.
Remi sighs, her cheeks getting a rosy tint that he didn’t like. “Too tired to eat, can I hold you?”
“Of course you can hold me, come here.” He presses his lips to the top of her head, her warm clammy skin letting him know that it’s time for more medicine. Since he couldn’t let her go without some sort of meltdown, he just used one hand to pour the Motrin into a tiny cup and had her drink it.
“That was yucky,” she whines, her voice having a sleepy croak to it. “Can you take a nap with me, pretty please?”
He laughs lightly, peering down at her as he walks to her room. “When you ask so nicely with a sweet face like that, how can I say no?”
With his long legs hanging off the bed, he placed the blanket over her as she nestled herself in the crook of his body. “Daddy?”
Her eyes were closed so he wasn’t sure if she was still awake until she spoke again. “Thank you for staying with me. Yesterday, I missed you but now you’re here and I’m so happy. I miss you when you leave.”
“Do you get sad when I’m gone?” He wasn’t sure he was ready to hear her answer, but he knew he needed the truth. Even though the simple thought of making her sad had him biting back tears.
Remi opens her eyes, her matching green orbs staring into his before she smiles and shakes her head. “Yes. For two minutes I cry but you always come back!” She holds out three fingers to show him and he chuckles, helping her out one finger down. “And you get touchdowns on tv and me and mama high five. I like touchdowns and I like the Chargers. So I not sad daddy, I get happy when you win. Sometimes you lose…but I still love you.”
As hard as he tries, he can’t contain the laughter at his daughter’s football analysis. But she was right, she loved him win or lose and he had to remember that when the guilt set in. “I love you more mini,” he gives her a squeeze, “and I’m always going to come back home, every touchdown is for you and for mama.”
“And baby brother?”
“Of course! Baby brother too.”
She seems satisfied with that answer, closing her eyes again and cozying further into his chest, her steady breaths letting him know she was quickly dozing off.
With her body resting against his chest, he lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding since he got home almost 24 hours earlier. Even something as minor as a tiny ear infection worried him. “I’m right here honey, daddy’s not going anywhere.” He was mostly saying that for himself but it still felt good to admit there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.
The next day when he came home from the facility, he was happy to find Remi getting back to her usual self. “What are you two doing?”
“Making nana bread with…matella.”
“It’s Nutella sweets,” you correct her with a soft laugh.
Remi giggles, “Nu-tella, the best chocolate.”
“That sounds amazing bub,” Justin smiles, giving each of you a kiss on the cheek. Remi immediately drops what she’s doing to give him a hug. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better.”
She gives him a kiss on the cheek in return, “nana bread and daddy at home make me feel lots better.” Remi practically hops out of the man’s arms to go grab her cup of water from the living room.
“She said banana bread before me,” Justin murmurs. “Is that saying something?”
Placing the bread pan in the oven, you laugh softly. “Unfortunately, I think it says everything. I’m so sorry you had to find out this way.”
“Eh it’s fine. You didn’t even make her top two.”
#Justin Herbert#Justin Herbert x reader#justin herbert imagine#Justin Herbert x you#nfl imagine#justin herbert fanfic
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TAKE ME WITH YOU ➵ F. CASTLE
Summary: You show Frank your appreciation for keeping you going.
Warnings: Suicide ideation (both reader and Frank mention having suicidal thoughts), feminine nicknames, hurt/comfort, fluff
Word count: 1.6k
Author’s note: Today is the last day of Suicide Awareness Month and I really wanted to do something for it because it really means a lot to me as someone who lost a friend to it but also struggles with those thoughts on most days. I’ve had a good couple of weeks lately but it’s still something I deal with and Frank has helped through so much. If only I could actually thank him. But I guess this is the closest thing to it :) I hope this resonates with some of you, I’m proud of you for being here <3
On the second-to-last night of September, you were filled with nerves from your head to your toes, your eyes constantly glancing at the clock to see it tick closer and closer to eleven — the time Frank had promised to be home. You had tried to open your mouth about what was on your mind in the morning when you were still melted together under the sheets, and again before he had left but his sweet kiss on your lips had rendered you silent. Now, you had decided you weren’t going to shy away from being vulnerable, even at the risk of crying.
You knew he was a safe space, he was your safe space, but you always hesitated talking about the truly dark and sad inside you. Maybe it was some innate fear you’d be pushing him away, or maybe you worried about worrying him — either way, it often took him probing a little bit for you to open up, but tonight, you insisted on being brave all by yourself.
At exactly eleven o’clock, Frank’s key turned in the lock of your door, and you perked up on the living room couch and watched your tall, scary man drag himself indoors with heavy boots. As soon as the door was shut and he faced you, a tired smile crawled up to his face and remained there when he crouched down to undo the laces of his shoes.
”Hey, sweetheart. Been waitin’ all night, huh?” he figured you out pretty quickly, and with a sheepish chuckle, you shrugged. He shook his head but made his way to the couch where his first priority was kissing your forehead. ”’M sorry for keepin’ you up”, Frank added, and with your hand brushing against his fingertips when he slumped down next to you, you tutted at him.
”Don’t be sorry, baby. I kinda wanted to talk to you about something, anyway”, you swallowed before averting your gaze from his deep, dark eyes to his built figure. ”Are you okay?” you asked before proceeding any further, and to reassure you, Frank lifted his hand to the back of your neck and softly caressed your hair there.
”I ain’t bleedin’ out tonight, baby. What’s on your mind?” he questioned with an attentive stare, and when you met his eyes, you could see him trying to figure you out; detailing your expression, hoping to find out if something was wrong.
Deciding to put him out of his misery, you reached behind your back to grab the small gift you had wrapped for him last night. You handed it over to him without a word, and with surprise washing over his bruised face, he took the silver present while his other hand dropped around your shoulders to keep you close.
”Shit. What’s the occasion?” he asked, blinking, and you could tell he was sucker-punched by your gesture. He had been learning how to be better with affection — in fact, he had become almost clingy with you, but he still couldn’t quite comprehend… this.
”Well”, you cleared your throat, ”I don’t know if you knew but September is a month for… for, uh, suicide prevention and awareness. And I guess I kinda just wanted to thank you, because you keep me going. You’re the best preventative means I’ve ever had.” You chuckled quietly and looked down at your hands while continuing, ”I didn’t think I’d make it this far. But you give me a reason to stay alive, and I’m really… really grateful.”
Silence landed between you and you swallowed so thickly you could have sworn it was audible, but before you could panic that it was all too much, you gave a weak gesture at the gift. ”You can open it now”, you encouraged, and realizing he still hadn’t, Frank looked away from you and down to the small package he began unwrapping.
It was almost funny seeing his big, rough hands manhandle the tiny gift, but he did his best, and eventually, unveiled the small jewerly box inside. He glanced at you, but proceeded to lift the top of the box to reveal a silver chain with your initial hanging from it. He was indescribably gentle and feather-light when he picked it up, his dark eyes glued onto the piece as you waited with bated breath.
”Maybe it’s a little corny—”, you began, but Frank cut you off with one hand grasping yours tightly.
”I love it”, he stated simply, glancing between you and the necklace. ”I really fuckin’ love it. Yeah, this is…”
You licked your lips and nodded. ”I just thought… whenever you need the reminder, I just want you to know you’ve saved my life over and over again. You do so much for me, you have no idea”, you whispered, and tightening his hold on your hand, Frank swallowed, and you could see him fighting off tears.
”C’mere”, he spoke eventually, quiet and fragile, and you didn’t fight back when he pulled you into a tight, warm hug. You closed your eyes and breathed him in as his arms wrapped around you firmly, and you could feel his lips grazing your temple. ”I love you, y’know that?” he murmured against your hair, and struggling not to cry yourself, you nodded.
”I love you, Frank.”
He continued to hold you for a while, but eventually, the two of you wound up getting ready for bed and before you knew it, the next day came. You had to drag yourself to work early on, but you were energized by the sight of a sleepy Frank still dozed off on your pillow, his new silver chain shining in the sunlight peeking through your curtains.
Still, as the day went on, you couldn’t help but begin overthinking. Had you been a little too dramatic? Was it too much pressure to put on one person? The questions piled up and by the time you were going home, your nails had been chewed down to nothing and your lip was mere moments away from bleeding.
But Frank? He had been nothing short of honored. And so, when you walked through the front door, you were met with the scent of your favorite dish, your favorite playlist playing through your little radio while your favorite guy stood in the kitchen where your favorite flowers awaited. At the sound of the door closing, Frank turned around and grinned at the sight of you speechless at the doorstep, your bag falling on the floor and your eyes wide at what you were witnessing.
As if it was any other day, Frank swooped you in by the waist and kissed you deep and slow, taking your breath away in an instant. You lifted one hand to his cheek, holding his face close to yours even when your lips disconnected, and you could feel his smirk against your cheek.
”Welcome home, sweet girl”, he murmured, and unable to hold back a smile of your own, you kissed him once more.
”What’s going on?” you wondered, your curiosity getting the best of you, and so, you let go of Frank and stepped into the kitchen where the flowers smelled heavenly and the food was almost ready.
”Think I shoulda been a lot more… I dunno, receptive last night. Really means a fuckton that you shared with me, sweetheart”, Frank voiced from behind you, and with anxiety rising in your chest once again, you twirled around to face him.
”I was starting to worry it may have been too much”, you confessed, and with a scoff, Frank landed both hands on your hips and pulled you in closer.
”Nah, I’m just a dumbass, baby. Really, I… I can’t tell you how much it means to me to be able to help ya out. Y’know, it fuckin’ breaks my heart to even imagine a world without you. ’M so grateful you’ve stuck around”, he insisted, and when you looked down shyly, he immediately lifted your head with his thumb and looked into your eyes.
”I mean it. You’re so goddamn important to me and I’m so glad you’re here with me. If you ever feel like… ya know… not being here anymore, all you gotta do is tell me and I’ll be by your side, no matter what. There ain’t a place I’d rather be, aight? You’re my girl and whatever you need, I’mma give it to you”, Frank continued, and with your lips pursed into a weak smile, you whispered a thank you. A tear rolled down your cheek, but Frank was quick to wipe it away with his thumb.
”That really means the world to me, Frank”, you promised with a kiss left on his cheek, and nodding, he took your hand in his and squeezed.
”I know I don’t, uh, talk about it much, but shit, I get it. I really do. There are days when I wanna just disappear, when I want it all to just stop. Days when it feels like too much and there ain’t any cure for it. But then I see you or hear your laugh or smell your perfume and, fuck, there it is. That shit makes me wanna hold on and see what’s comin’ next. As long as you’ll be here to see it with me”, Frank admitted in a quiet but firm tone, every word coming straight from the heart.
You wiped your eyes but there was no stopping the tears. You hugged him tight and felt the cold chain against your forehead as you did. ”How’d we get so lucky to find each other?” you whispered, and with a quiet laugh, Frank shook his head.
”Shit, I really dunno, sweetheart. But I ain’t ever gonna take it for granted”, he hummed before chuckling, ”guess this is our day, huh?”
You smiled up at him. ”I like that”, you whispered, ”our day.”
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PART 1: First Impressions
a/n: guys doing a chaptered fic is so hard bc u have to plan everything. ive outlined this one + written some of the next parts so this is part 1/10 (I think). see masterlist for synopsis + each part as they get updated.
wc: 4.5k
MASTERLIST | AO3
A warm breeze tickles your skin as you step onto campus, the atmosphere thick with the restless buzz of first day jitters. The sun is well and truly shining today, clear blue skies with not a cloud in sight. You have to admit, it’s a gorgeous day.
Of course, it hadn’t started out that way. The first thing you had heard in the morning had been the unwelcome sound of your alarm, jolting you awake at the pleasant hour of six o’clock. It had taken all of your willpower to drag yourself out of bed after giving yourself a half hour leeway to snooze. It’d been two months since summer break first started and you really had gotten used to having the free time to laze around and relax, going to bed late at night and waking up whenever you pleased. Now, it’s the first day back at Uni, back to reality and it’s like being splashed by a bucket of ice cold water over your head.
The morning is a blur as you rush to get ready and leave on time after staying in bed a few minutes too long. This year you’re living with your childhood friend Mikasa again. The two of you had moved together from your hometown of Shiganshina for University two years ago, along with Eren and Armin, the other two in your tight knit friend group. You’ve managed to snag a small two bedroom townhouse close enough to Uni that you’ll be in close proximity to everything you need for the year. Even better, you’re lucky enough that Eren and Armin have managed to sign a lease for another unit right next door. It just feels right that all of you stick together, their presence a slice of home that you hold near and dear to your heart. Unlike you, Mikasa is a morning person. A note on your kitchen bench tells you she's already up at the gym and she'll be home later for dinner. You shake your head and make a face - that could never be you.
You decide to take a detour on your walk to campus and the first thing you do when you leave your place is stop by your favourite coffee shop. There’s just no way to avoid it. You're going to need some caffeine today, something to breathe the life back into you. Honestly, you had been dreading this day since the start of your break, a persistent doomsday countdown always nagging in the back of your head. At this very moment, there’s nothing you want more than to be still in bed, dreaming away the morning with no responsibilities or stress.
You have fifteen minutes until your first class starts by the time you make it to campus. Although the sprawling buildings are a familiar sight, a small knot of dread ties itself in your gut. You always forget how much you associate with a place until you’re back. Now that you're here again, you can't help but relive the past trauma. You pass by a bench you remember you sat on when you got your grades back for that one assignment you spent hours and lost years of your lifespan for, only to be rewarded with a sad B minus. A shiver rolls over your body at the memory - that was not a good day at all. The old faithful library where you’ve spent countless nights staring at your notes, willing the information to absorb into your brain, is ever present in your peripheral vision as you make your way across the great lawn.
Laughter erupts from a group of students sitting on the grass a few metres away from you and tinny pop music blares from a small speaker next to them. Reunions are happening around you, arms being thrown around shoulders and chatter bubbling away as your peers catch up with each other after the weeks apart. Despite the apprehension of being back at Uni, you're also excited to finally reunite with some friends yourself. You glance down at your phone lock screen - five minutes to go. A light breeze rustles your hair as you hurry your pace towards your destination, the science building.
You’re out of breath by the time you make it up the steps and push open the doors to the building. It’s your third year of being a biomedical science student at the University of Mitras and it never ceases to amaze you how large the campus can feel sometimes. There are always moments where you start getting used to the expansive grounds and then you’ll be caught off guard by a towering building with grand architecture and you’re reminded not to take things for granted.
You bring your phone up to your face again to quickly check your room in your timetable. Room 201. A sigh of relief escapes you; you’ve had classes there before. Despite almost having lived in this area of campus for the past couple years with the number of hours you'd spent here, it’s still a maze of corridors and you know from experience it’s not hard at all to find yourself getting lost. You race up the stairs to the second floor and, always a creature of habit, you take your seat in the same spot as you always had - third row, furthest to the left.
Voices chatter away in the room and your fellow students gradually pour in in a steady stream, taking their own seats. You exchange smiles and waves with the faces you recognise. Most of you have shared multiple classes with each other since by this point in your degree, you’re all pretty much on a similar track.
A warm smile, bright as sunshine, greets you across the room and you straighten in your seat, waving enthusiastically. Your friend, Historia, who you had met as lab partners last year hurries over to you. Grinning, she stops short in front of your desk, dropping her bag down on the seat next to you.
“Oh my God! I missed you!” She squeals, arms flinging open wide to capture you in a hug.
You get up and squeeze her tight in a warm hug. “It’s so good to see you again! How was your summer?”
“It was great,” she sighs wistfully. “I wish it wasn’t over yet. How about you?”
She pulls her bag off her shoulder and sets it down on the desk next to yours. Sitting down, she begins pulling her laptop and iPad out of her bag to get ready for class. The two of you jabber away, catching up on the events of the past few months. Every summer since you moved to Mitras, you’ve gone back to your hometown to stay with your parents. Meanwhile, Historia had stayed in Mitras with her girlfriend Ymir and they’ve finally moved in together.
“Ymir let me decorate the whole place,” She giggles. “Even the bedding and couch cushions.”
“I bet it looks amazing,” You say sincerely.
“You should come over and visit! We were thinking of doing a housewarming party now that everyone’s back in town.”
Excited by the idea, you eagerly nod in agreement. A party sounds like a great way to start off the new year. The lecture room looks like it’s finally filled with students and when you look towards the front, you see the short stature of your lecturer Levi Ackermann as he finishes getting set up for class. Silence falls across the room when he gently taps on the microphone, signalling for attention.
“Alright class. This is Biology 310. It’s 9:00 am now so we’re going to get started. Anyone who’s not supposed to be in this class please leave now.”
Levi carries on, outlining the content the course would be covering for the rest of semester. It all sounds pretty standard to you, having been in his classes before, but it's a definite step up in terms of course load. You’re already dreading the amount of study you’re going to need to do to make sure you don’t drown in stress by the time exams roll around. Straightening up, you make sure to pay extra attention when he starts explaining the grading structure, starting with a weekly pop quiz, followed by four tests spread out throughout the term.
“You will be pleased to hear there is no final exam for this course,” Levi’s low, gravelly voice travels across the room.
Your eyebrows raise in surprise and you turn to Historia. No final exam? You mouth at her and she shrugs.
“Instead, you will have a final project that will be comprised of findings from your labs over the next few months and a final presentation. This will be a group project in pairs of my choosing.”
Dread fills your body at his words and you try not to sigh as you slump down in your chair. Group projects have got to be the worst thing ever, a torture form created by the gods of education just in case you weren’t already struggling enough in your academic pursuits. Even better is the fact that you won’t even be able to choose who to partner with. In every piece of collaborative work you’ve ever done, there’s always been that one asshole that refuses to do their part and you’ve always been the one to pick up the slack. 40% of your grade , you hear Levi say and you groan inwardly, already fearing for the worst.
At the podium, Levi presses a button on his laptop and the projector screen lights up with a chart filled with names, grouped together in twos.
“This is who you will be partnered with for the rest of the semester. I don’t want to hear any whinging and moaning about this because I’ve planned everything deliberately. I’m going to call out your names, put your hand up when you hear yours so you know where they are. When I’m done you can move over to sit together.”
He starts listing off the names with haste, barely looking up to confirm the pairings have identified each other before moving on to the next. You’re tense with anticipation as you wait for him to call out your name, eager to find out who you would be working with. Finally, you hear him say your name into the microphone and you perk up.
“... you will be with Jean Kirstein.”
Hand in the air, you turn around searching for his location. Your eyes fall on a man with light brown hair in a shaggy mullet, sitting a few rows behind you in the middle. His eyes meet yours and his hand lifts to give a small wave. You point your finger at yourself then around to him, signalling that you would move back to him.
Quietly, you pack up your things into your bag and wait. When Levi finishes rattling off the names, you push back and scurry over to Jean’s desk, plopping down next to him.
“Hey,” you begin, smiling warmly. You introduce yourself to him, holding out your hand for him to shake.
He just blinks at you blankly before the edges of his lips lift in what honestly looks like a small grimace. “I’m Jean.”
“Nice to meet you, Jean,” you reply, smile a little strained now with his chilly reception. You drop your hand awkwardly and wipe your clammy palms on your thighs. “How exciting that we’re going to be partners, huh?”
Ice runs through your veins when Jean winces at your words, actually groaning out loud. “Yeah, great. We’re partners.”
What the hell? Although his reaction stings a little, you try to shake it off. You're a natural people pleaser and one of your fatal flaws is that you always want to give off a good impression and give people the benefit of the doubt. You clear your throat and reach for your phone. “Guess we’re going to be spending a lot of time together now. How about we swap numbers so we can get in contact with each other?”
Jean gives a small nod and accepts the phone you’re offering to him. As he enters in his digits, you shift in your chair, a little uncomfortable with his cold demeanour.
"So, what’s your major?” You ask, cautiously.
“Biomed.”
“Oh, cool! Me too.”
His eyes flicker up to meet you and he wordlessly hands back your phone.
“You also pre-med?” You ask him.
He just nods in response. Your fingers tap a restless rhythm onto the desk surface, about ready to take flight. The low hum of voices fill the room as your fellow classmates get to know each other and prepare for the upcoming semester. The silence between you and Jean, however, is thick and unrelenting. You wonder what could possibly be his problem. Sure, you’ve seen him in classes before but you've never had the chance to interact. There’s no reason why he should be acting like such a dick towards you. It’s just your luck to be paired with the one person who seems to have something against you. Fuck group projects.
You sneak another glance at Jean sitting next to you. He’s leaning back in his chair, legs extended in front of him between his desk and the seat in front, taking up the walking space as if it belongs to him. He’s tapping away at his laptop keyboard and curiosity gets the better of you as you lean in a little closer to see his screen.
“What are you doing?” You ask, leaning your weight half off your seat as you crane your neck towards him.
At your words, his head snaps to you and your eyes meet. Your breath catches in your throat. Somehow, you’ve ended up face to face with him and up close you feel like you’re really seeing him for the first time. His eyes are locked on yours - amber with flecks of light honey. The world seems to slow for a moment as you stare at him, all of a sudden a deer trapped in headlights. You blink and clear your throat, leaning further away from him until you feel safe enough from the magnetism of his presence.
“Jean?”
He straightens. The faintest hint of pink tinges the tips of his ears. “W-what?”
“I asked you what you’re doing?”
“Oh.” He turns back to his laptop, shifting the screen slightly so it’s easier for you to see. “I was just making an outline for this class … so I know what assignments we have and when they’re due and stuff.”
A quick glance reveals a tidy table with colour coded headings and columns, half filled with empty spaces yet to be filled. You can’t help but feel a little taken aback. True, you don’t know anything about him but from first glance with his worn jeans and scruffy shoes, table empty except for his laptop, no notebooks or stationery in sight, he doesn’t really seem like the organised, neat freak type to you. He must be able to read the surprise on your face because his lips tug down and he lets out a scoff.
“What? Didn’t think I would be someone to take my studies seriously?”
Huh, the fuck?
You recoil. In an instant your body becomes as rigid as ice while your wide eyes snap to him in shock. “No! Why would you say that?” you question him, completely flabbergasted.
He just shakes his head, the displeased expression remaining on his face. “Whatever.”
You just sit there dumbstruck, completely lost by what’s just happened. Did you miss something? Did you do something? Why does he hate you so much? Possible scenarios race through your mind of potential ways you could have offended him, but nothing sticks. There’s honestly nothing you can think of to warrant this reaction from him.
In your head you try to hype yourself up (It’s just one project - you can do it!) but the unease remains as you slump into your chair and groan internally when you remember that yes it’s one project, but it's worth 40% of your grade. As a pre-med student, you feel the weight of every percent and you’re barely holding on as it is. A memory of your father lecturing you about the importance of your grades flashes in your mind and you wince. If your grades drop even slightly this year it's going to be all over for you. This predicament had the potential to well and truly be the straw that broke the camel’s back.
At the front of the room, you watch as Levi leans forward into the microphone again. Your peers quieten around you when he speaks, his amplified voice booming from the speakers.
“Alright guys. That’s all the time we have for today. First lab’s on Wednesday. Any problems, just email me.”
At that, the tables around you burst in a flurry of movement as you all pack your things and get ready to move to your next classes. You shove your laptop into your tote bag and sling the straps over your shoulder. You’re about to get up when you pause, remembering Jean sitting next to you. Stiffly, you turn towards him and open your mouth, unsure of what to say to him.
“Well … I’ll see you in the lab,” you manage awkwardly.
Jean shoots a quick glance at you and nods once. “Yeah, see you.”
Alright then. You turn away with a grimace. A gut feeling tells you this semester is going to be a real shitshow. As you walk away, you try to conjure up happy thoughts in an effort to erase the dark cloud currently hanging over you. Ahead of you, Historia waves to get your attention as you make your way to the doorway and she waits patiently for you to catch up.
“Bio 320 next?” She asks, linking arms with you and leaning her head onto your shoulder.
“Yup. We’re lucky it’s just down the hall. Let’s go,”
As you start walking, the phantom weight of a pair of eyes on the back of your head urges you to turn around. When you glance over your shoulder, you catch Jean staring at you. From the distance, you can't make out his expression, but he has his head resting in his hand with his arm leaning on his desk. His eyes lock on yours and you can tell there’s no smile on his face. Your legs root to the ground as you both freeze momentarily, eyes wide. He's the first to break, quickly snapping his head away to look down at his phone. You watch the way his hair falls to hang in front of his eyes and his leg bounces restlessly as he feigns interest in whatever is on his screen.
Historia tugs your arm, shaking you from where you stand frozen with your head pointed towards his direction. There’s a slight pinch when she pokes a sharp nail hard into your shoulder. You reach up to rub at the sore spot and shoot her a look.
“Ow, what the hell?” You yelp, glaring daggers at her.
She rolls her eyes and pulls your arm again. It causes you to stumble a little in her direction. “Quit staring and let’s go.”
“I wasn't staring,” you grumble, but your feet finally unroot themselves and you follow her lead towards the next room.
“Yes you were … and I don't blame you. You got so lucky getting paired with Jean Kirstein. He's so smart, you’re going to have such an easy time with this project.” Her eyes light up and there’s a cheeky lift to her lips when she speaks her next words. “Plus he's not bad on the eyes right?”
You make a face at her. “I don't feel very lucky right now. I think the guy has it out for me or something. What’s the point in being smart if you’re a righteous dick”
Historia snickers. A hand comes up to cover her mouth when she sees your disgruntled look but it’s to no avail because she can’t stop giggling. “Trust you to get on his bad side already,” she says between her tittering. “I talked to him last year once in a lab and he seemed really nice.”
You huff and pull away from her, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Great, so it’s personal then. For some reason, this Jean guy must actually genuinely dislike you. Whatever. It doesn't phase you. He can glare as much as he wants and do his best to intimidate you or whatever it is he seems to be trying but it won't matter. At the end of the day, you're here to do the work and get the grades and he can continue being his miserable self if he pleases.
The two of you walk into your next class and take your seats. You sigh as you pull out your laptop again, settling in for another lecture. It's only the first day but you're already counting down the hours until you get to go home.
By the time you get home after your first day, you’re exhausted. It always takes some time for you to adjust to the routine of sitting in hours of classes and labs when you first get back from break. You kick off your shoes and drop your bag down on the floor as you shut the door behind you. The aroma of cooking spices wafts around you, getting stronger and stronger until you see Mikasa standing in the kitchen. A pot filled with a thick liquid bubbles in front of her as she slowly stirs it with a wooden spoon.
“It smells delicious in here,” you tell her enthusiastically, waving your hands towards your nose as you do an exaggerated inhale. “Whatcha making?”
Mikasa looks over her shoulder and smiles. “Japanese curry and rice. Is that okay?”
“Of course! I’ll eat whatever you make, Chef.” You lean next to her and peer into the pot. “That looks good. Need any help?”
She nudges your shoulder and slaps your hand away playfully when you reach for the spoon. She waves her hands, as if shooing away a fly hovering over a plate of food. “No, I’m fine. I’m pretty much done - just need to plate this up.”
You put your hands up in mock surrender and back away. Reaching into the cupboards above you, you grab a couple plates and pass them to Mikasa. She accepts them gratefully and begins scooping enough food to satisfy your appetites.
“How was your day?” You ask her as you both sit and dig in. Steam wafts from the curry, fresh off the stove and you’re careful to not let the hot food burn your mouth. “Mmm, this is really good Mikasa,” you say between mouthfuls.
She smiles. “Thanks. It was okay. Nothing exciting.”
Like you, Mikasa had started off as a science student too, but had soon realised halfway through her first semester that it just wasn’t for her. With her natural talents in athletics and martial arts, she had chosen to change to physical education instead. A part of you always feels a little jealous when you think about how easily she had made the change and stuck to it once she had made up her mind. If only you could change your major too, or drop out altogether. The dark cloud is back as you think back to the day you've had today. Without meaning to, your shoulders slump and you sag a little as you pick at your food. A bit of curry splashes out of your bowl when you scoop a little too forcefully.
Mikasa cocks her head to the side, looking at you with mild concern. “How about you?”
You roll your eyes and groan. “Where do I start … Got to my first class only to be told we have to do a stupid paired project and then of course my partner turns out to be a fucking weirdo who hates me for some reason.”
“Yikes … What do you mean by "hates you”?” She asks, fingers coming up to form air quotes.
“I don’t know!” You exclaim. “I’ve literally never met the guy before but he was acting like I killed his cat or something. I’ve never had someone be so hostile towards me before.”
“Would he be anyone that I know?”
“No, I doubt it. His name’s Jean and he’s a biomed major like me. I don’t think you would have ever met him.”
Mikasa shovels another spoonful into her mouth and hums in thought as she chews. Her eyebrows furrow slightly and her chewing pauses momentarily. “Jean … kind of sounds familiar” she mutters. “But you’re probably right, I doubt I would have met him.”
You shrug and pull a face. There’s a clang of metal as your spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl. “He’s an asshole that’s for sure,” you grumble.
You finish off the last of your food and sit back, folding your arms over your chest. Across the table, Mikasa scrunches her nose at you as she eats. She’s scolded you in the past for eating too fast but it’s a bad habit picked up from having to fit in feeding yourself between cramming for exams. Her eyes study your sour face with humour as she swallows her mouthful.
“Wanna watch something? I can ask Eren and Armin what they’re up to. Would that cheer you up?”
Despite feeling a little like a child being given a new toy to distract from throwing a tantrum, you can’t help but brighten up a little at her proposal. A smile forms on your face and you nod enthusiastically.
“Yes! Might as well since we have nothing to study yet anyway.”
She claps her hands. “Okay then. Let me send a text to the group. I'm sure they're free.”
new notification in the 3 musketeers + eren
mama mika: where are you guys rn
eren 😎: Just got done at the gym.
Armin ☀️: How was your first day guys?
mama mika: come over? movie marathon
Armin ☀️: Oh no bad day?
You: im stuck with an asshole all semester :/// i’ll tell you more later
You: only a binge session with my faves will save me
Eren 😎: K we’ll come.
Eren 😎: Do you have food though I'm starving
You: yeah mikasa made curry and it's chef's kiss
Eren 😎: oh sweeeeet that sounds good
Eren 😎: When are you cooking again?
You: tomorrow :D why?
Eren 😎: Cool. Remind me to eat before I come over tomorrow
You: what the hell
You: my food is great wtf you would be lucky to eat it
Eren 😎: [sent a photo]
Eren 😎: Why you lyin
you: i hate you so much
You: not like i offered anyway 🙄
you have changed the group name to eren hate club
Eren 😎: why
eren has changed the group name to eren fan club
you have changed the group name to eren hate club
Armin ☀️: Guys don't fight. We'll be there in 15
You: he started it
You: yayyyy :)))) can you bring snacks?
Eren 😎: We don’t have any
You: :((((
you: wasn't asking u, dickhead
Armin ☀️: We’ll grab some on the way!
You: :DDD
you: ok then see you soon 😘
you: i wanna watch fast and furious
Eren sent a photo of a pot with spaghetti on fire from when you last cooked for the team. It's only happened once in your life but he won't let it go.
Why does jean hate reader so much? 🤔 Surely he’s not someone that would intentionally be a dick for no reason. Stay tuned!!!
taglist: @honeybleed @cptnleviackerman @310802 @milky-aeons
#jean kirstein#attack on titan#jean x reader#jean kirschstein#jean kirstein x reader#aot x reader#✎ . chloe wrote smth
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jersey giant | jh86
y’all i am so so sorry this took so long to get out!! i’ll try my best to start getting things out quicker and more often!!
but we’re back with the song blurbs!! i’ve recently been obsessed with jersey giant by elle king and for some reason it makes me think of the devils
pairing -> graves!sister!oc x jack hughes warnings -> mentions of blood, mentions of injury, slight cursing, mentions of death not my gif!!
word count -> 2.12k
7 months ago
since i was a little girl, I believed everything happens for a reason.
no matter how hard i search, there was no reason for this.
i remember that day like no other. i sat in the living room of my hoboken apartment, which i shared with my older brother, of course.
today my anxiety had been like no other. with ryan at hockey practice, i feared something happened to him. i texted him an upwards of 30 times, to be graced with a response of “dw cupcake i’m doing fine :)”
however, that did not calm my rambunctious mind. so i turned to my music. i’ve been writing music since i was in high school, not for the people, just for me. music was my escape, an outlet for me to express my emotions.
i don’t remember much from those few hours, the only thing i remember was my raw and bleeding fingertips after playing for so long.
it was about 3 o’clock when the front door opened. “i’m home cupcake!” ryan called, though it wasn’t his usual tone. it seemed gloomy and sad.
my brother seemed to drag himself into our shared living room, shoulders hunched, a solemn look on his face.
“how was practice?” i ask cheerfully, trying to lighten his mood. “i’m so sorry darcie” ryan croaks out, tears pooling in his eyes.
“for what ry? what’s the matter?” i ask, cupping his face and wiping the few tears that had fallen.
“they’re trading me.”
his words cut me like a freshly sharpened knife. he opens his mouth to speak once again and i brace for the impact.
“to pittsburgh”
the knife was twisted. for the past two years, i was blessed to call the garden state my home, and blessed to call the devils my family.
i was struggling with my schooling a lot a few years ago, trying to cope with the loss of my brother at home. so my parents thought it would be a good idea to send me to live with him.
so to new jersey he went, with me in toe.
i’ve made great friends while being here, johnny, dawson, nico, jesper, timo, they were all such great company.
but no one’s company could compare to that of the devils prodigy, jack hughes.
being very close in age, we became best friends immediately. we spent almost every day together except when he had morning skate or roadies.
jack was my person. at first i thought it was just platonically, but after a few months of our friendship, i developed feelings.
and after a hard loss, denying them a spot in the 2022 stanley cup playoffs, i discovered he reciprocated those same feelings.
so we started dating in secret. it wasn’t easy, but we made it work. and about 6 months in, we told our siblings.
luke was accidentally first to know, after an awkward walk in that lacked clothes. quinn followed soon after, because jack felt guilty that the younger hughes knew but not the older hughes.
ryan was the last to know. it took a while for him to warm up to our relationship, but he eventually came around. plus, the boys became even closer than they already were. everything was perfect, until it wasn’t.
“so what does this mean” i ask, looking down at the dried blood on my fingers, my voice cracking as i try to conceal my true feelings.
“we have to leave jersey. and move to pittsburgh” he said, clearly just upset as i was. “trust me darcie i don’t want to leave” he sighs
“so don’t!” i exclaim jumping up from my place on the couch. ryan looks up at me with tears in his eyes. “darcie you know it’s not possible. if it was i wouldn’t be leaving”
“but ryan my whole life is here” i cry “my friends are here, my job is here, for fucks sake my boyfriend is here!” tears begin to stream down my face. “i cant just uproot my life because you got traded!”
“darcie lynn graves you know we have no choice.” he says sternly. brushing his long hair out of his eyes. “better get packing” he says, looking around at the decor. “our flight leaves tomorrow night.” and with that, he walked through the apartment to his bedroom.
just as i’m about to pick up the phone and call jack, there’s a knock on the door. i look out the peephole to see non other than my boyfriend, with tear stained cheeks on the other side.
i immediately open the door to see jack still in his practice clothes. “nico was the first player to know. he told the rest of us and i came as soon as i could” his voice cracks.
i wrap my arms around his shoulders while his encircle my waist. “i don’t want you to leave me” he mumbles, placing his head in the crook of my neck. “i have no choice baby” i sigh “this is the absolute last thing i want to do”
“how long do i have?” he asks me, tears falling down his cheeks. “what?” i ask, caught off guard by the question. “until you have to leave. how long”
“my flight leaves tomorrow night” i brush the strands of his messy hair out of his face.
it looked as though that statement broke his heart. it’s scary, being young and in love, not knowing if this could possibly be the last time they ever meet face to face.
“then let’s make these next 24 hours, the best we possibly can” he says feigning confidence.
we did everything together for the next 24 hours, just as he had promised. we had the time of our lives. we went skating together, a late night 7/11 run, movies, the whole nines.
all knowing it could possibly be the last time.
then came the part i dreaded the most, leaving. ryan insisted on taking my ginormous suitcase, as jack and i walked through the airport hand in hand.
we stopped before we got to tsa. i bit my bottom lip, knowing this is what had to happen. knowing that i was leaving and he wasn’t coming with me.
jack turns to me with a sad smile on his face. “i’m gonna miss you so much baby” he says, trying to hold back tears as well.
“i’m gonna miss you too jacky” i said, my tears finally falling. he wipes them away, the sad smile remaining on his face. “i love you to the moon and saturn” he says cupping my face in his hands.
“i love you forever and always” i smile “no matter how far away i am” jack dips his head down placing a passionate and loving kiss on my lips. “dars let’s go!” ryan calls out.
“promise me you’ll call me if you need anything ok?” a big goofy smile appears on the brunette boys face. “only if you promise me the same” we laugh and share our last goodbyes as ryan and i headed towards tsa.
present time
i left jersey almost seven months ago now, but i miss jack like crazy. being without him has been really tough for me, and everyone can tell. however, i was able to spend a few weeks with him over the summer at his lake house. i met trevor, alex, cole, and ellen and jim officially, and i loved every second of it
believe it or not i’ve made some great friends in pittsburgh. if you told twelve year old me that i was friends with sidney crosby she would laugh at you and tell you you’re crazy.
“whatcha doing kid?” sid asks as he sits next to me on the couch. ryan had invited the guys and their partners to our house for a team get together. he says it’s to “celebrate the start of the new season” but i think it’s to get on their good sides.
i point to the large flat screen tv currently playing the devils game against the st. louis blues. “ohh i see” sidney chuckles “ditching the boys to watch the boyfriend”
i laugh “don’t get too pissy sid” “no no i see where i lie on your rankings of favorites” he jokes, taking a sip of his beer.
“jack hughes goes down and he’s hurt!” the broadcaster says. sid and i freeze.
“no no no”
“cmon kid get up”
“god jack get up!”
“cmon kid cmon!”
we begin to panic, yelling everything we can at the tv, as though it could be heard all the way in st. louis.
i try to hold back my tears, as i pick up my phone. as my shaky hands attempted to open my phone, jacks contact photo appears.
i look to the tv to see he’s already in the locker room. “hello?” i ask, voice shaky and palms sweaty. “hello is this darcie graves?” the man asks, clearly not jack.
“yes how can i help you?” i ask “im michael coyne, the head physical therapist for the new jersey devils. now, i’m not sure if your aware but jack sustained a significant injury to his shoulder tonight, and he keeps asking for you. and if possible we would fly you into jersey and we can meet you there. now he has informed us of your current situation, we will cover all fees needed, we just want to make sure he is ok.”
“absolutely, um- i- yeah i’ll- i’ll go” i stutter. “perfect. the flight leaves in an hour, is that alright?” he asks. “yeah that’s perfect” i sadly smile.
“any questions?” he asks sincerely. “yes there is. can i talk to jack?” micheal almost cuts me off, “absolutely here he is now”
“hello?” i hear my boyfriend hiss in pain. “hi jacky. i’m coming ok? they’re flying you home and i’ll meet you there. it takes to hours to get there babe, but i’ll make it to the airport in about an hour or so” i ramble.
“ok.” he hisses again “i never expected you to come back” he says. i can tell he’s frustrated by the situation, he hates being away from hockey.
“i’ll come back if you just call” i say sweetly “now i have to get packing and head down to the airport. i’ll call you as soon as i can alright?” i begin to throw my clothes into my suitcase.
“ok i love you”
“i love you more jack, i’ll be there soon.”
3.5 hours later
i landed in newark just before jack and the trainers did. although it was around 10 pm the city was still alive. so to take my mind off of the stress, i walked to the prudential center. once i arrived the trainers were already there and assessing jack.
as soon as i walked through the doors i was met by devils personnel, who ushered me into the training room.
it was there that i saw jack sitting near a pt table with ice wrapped around his shoulder.
“you gave me the worst scare of my life” i said making my presence known to the older boy. “oh thank god your here” jack goes to get up “god fucking damn it” he hisses, sitting back in the chair.
i run to his side “can i get you anything? water, ice, a heating pad? i can order chipotle if you want? have you eaten? oh god your probably starving” i ramble.
“hey, i’m alright darcie. i’m not going anywhere” he says cupping my jaw with his healthy hand. “but what if you weren’t? something serious could have happened, you could’ve gotten a concussion, snapped your neck, jack rowden you could’ve died!”
he doesn’t respond, only chuckling under his breath at my rambling. “stop looking at me like that! it’s not funny! this is serious!” i giggle, trying my best to stay mad at him. i failed miserably.
“come sit” jack says, patting the seat next to him. as i sit down he places his good arm around my shoulders, carefully pulling me into his chest. “thank you for being here. it means a lot to me” jack says, placing a kiss on my temple.
“i’ll always be here for you baby” i smile up at him. he leans down and places a slow and sweet kiss on my lips.
i plan to stay in newark for the next few weeks, since luke and jack have an extra room in their house. “are you gonna play doctor?” jack asks as i help him into the car. “i guess so yeah” i giggle.
“can you wear one of those sexy nurse costumes?”
“jack rowden hughes!”
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Worry | Josh Kiszka X Reader
Warnings: Imposter syndrome, general insecurities, fluffy ending!
Word Count: 3.3K
A/N: I wrote most of this a few months ago after a televised charity event that GVF performed at, but I can't remember which one it was right now...I just remember the vibes being weird, and them not handing out roses, but they sounded incredible...so it kinda inspired me to write some angsty/sad stuff...don't worry, though. It ends on a good note.
Summary: An off-performance has pulled Josh into a depressive mood, and you're not sure what happened until you read his words off of the pages of his journal.
What if in the end, there’s no hands to reach for the white roses every night? No one singing our songs? Not a single tear shed from the meaningful experiences that tie us so close but so far from one another?
What if the stage lights dim and we wake up asking ourselves, ‘Where do we go from here?’
When will we know that we’ve stepped onto the final stage, and what will be the final utterance of those anthems that were once so intrinsically embedded within us?
I fear…I fear that one day…
I fear that one day we will walk away, having spilled those last drops of determination for a door that ends up closing anyway.
I never want to wake up to a day without you singing my songs back to me, your hands reaching out to me just to say, “I appreciate you–I love you–and we’re in this together…”
It’s a painful burden that I carry…to even think about the possibility of it. But still, after performances like tonight’s, I just can’t help it.
***
“Baby, you can’t sleep in all day. It’s literally almost one o’clock,” you whined, rolling over to rock Josh out of his seemingly impenetrable slumber.
“Arggggh,” he grumbled, turning his body away from you, rolling back into the warmth of the comforter and pillows. “Five more minutes,” he mumbled.
You should and would have been annoyed, but something in you softened, his body somehow beckoning for you. You crawled into bed beside him and wrapped your arms around his, leaning in to kiss his bare shoulder. You didn’t speak because you felt like you didn’t need to. One of his hands moved to drape over yours, squeezing your fingers lovingly. His head tilted slightly and he opened his eyes to groggily look at you. The sleep in his gaze, matched with the unkempt state of his hair made him look devastatingly beautiful in the natural light of the room. His amber eyes flooded into yours, and though he hadn’t smiled yet, you could see the love expressed through them.
“Good morning, baby,” you said softly.
“Afternoon,” he corrected, rolling over on his back and pulling you into his embrace to lay your head on his exposed chest. You laid there for a few drawn-out moments, listening to his heartbeat and feeling the warmth of his skin against your face. You enjoyed the tickle as his fingers ran through the length of your hair. He was particularly quiet today and you took notice, though you didn’t comment on it.
“Usually you’re not such a late sleeper,” you spoke, looking up at him. You watched him as he stared straight ahead. You could tell that he was already so deep in thought when you spoke.
“Hmm? Oh, well–just had to work the crowd a bit extra last night,” he said evasively. You knew he wasn’t telling the complete truth because he didn’t look you in the eye when he spoke–something he was usually very good at…He was far away today, and you weren’t sure why. You had mentioned going to the show last night to see them, but you had also made the trip to see the boys in three of their previous consecutive dates on tour.
“It’s just for charity. We’re making an appearance–performing a quick set this time, shouldn’t be a big deal,” he had said as he sipped on his throat coat tea. “I know you’d prefer some time by yourself, baby.” He seemed nonchalant about the performance, but nonetheless excited to put on a show like any other day.
“Are you sure?” You asked him again. You loved watching him and the boys perform. The charisma and talent was there every single night to a degree that left you constantly astonished at their endurance. It had to be tiring, but for Josh–he never seemed to let it wear him down. Yes, he had dealt with several health issues in the past, but he moved forward despite them, choosing to dismiss them as one of the sacrifices of being a touring band. It didn’t help considering how long the band had been touring over the last year.
Today, however, he seemed especially distant–worryingly so.
“I’m gonna go shower,” he said quietly, rolling out of bed and sauntering across the room.
“Want me to join?” You asked with a hopeful tone, offering him a soft smile.
“Oh, I won’t be in there long, baby. Just a quick shower. Love you,” he said, denying your offer. He leaned over the bed and pecked your lips quickly before turning and walking into the bathroom.
You watched him turn and start the shower, and swallowed down the disappointment.
Your eyes scanned the hotel room for a long moment, missing the look of his room at home, the comfort of the familiar and cozy space that you both knew so well. You pushed the sheets off of the bed and began to roll off of it, still feeling the warmth of Josh’s side. As you stepped off of the bed, you began to slip. Your eyes flew downward to regain your center of gravity. What the… you thought as you righted yourself, looking down to discover what you had slipped on. Josh’s journal. You bent to reach for it, picking it up, when a piece of paper from the hotel notepad slipped out of the pages and fell to the floor. The piece of paper had been extensively written on and it looked like it had been crumpled and discarded at first. You assumed Josh decided differently and decided to tuck it back into the book. Your eyes flitted up to the bathroom, hearing nothing except the water running and Josh humming a random tune. You didn’t want to invade his privacy, but something about this piece of paper urged you to flip it over and read it anyway.
You sat at the edge of the bed, absorbing the words he had written on the page. You read them over and over, trying your best not to miss a single word. Anxiety wracked your body, both from the chances of being caught, and from the dense, emotional text. It broke your heart that Josh would even think about the fans not being there. From all of the shows that you had attended, the venues had gotten increasingly larger, the crowds louder and more dedicated–it just didn’t make sense that he would consider these things, let alone write them down. These feelings were very real, and he hadn’t told you about any of it. You gulped down your own feelings and slipped the paper back into the journal, setting it on the bedside table before reaching for your phone. You searched on twitter for any tell-tale signs that would tell you what the problem was. Admittedly, you didn’t watch the livestream last night. When you had told Josh, he had actually seemed relieved that you didn’t. At the time it had perplexed you. Now you wanted to kick yourself for missing it.
‘Oh shit, let me tell you. I would claw someone’s eyes out for a rose from Josh. I wish he would have given them out,’ one tweet had said. ‘Bro that crowd was dead as fuck. They deserved better,’ another wrote. ‘They looked so upset while they played,’ read the third tweet. That was all you needed to see. You tossed your phone on the bed and got dressed. You and Josh needed to get out of these cramped four walls.
You got dressed within minutes and chose an outfit that Josh loved–a simple, slouchy pullover paired with jeans and boots. He had always told you that you made simple beauty look most exquisite because you didn’t have to try. That was the thing about Josh. He is who he is because of the amount of love that overwhelms his body, mind and soul. He wants nothing but the best for others, and most of the time he portrays the role of the cockeyed optimist. But today, you couldn’t help but watch his sparkle dim through the invisible storm cloud that schlepped above his head and into the shower.
“Feel better?” you asked softly as he walked into the bedroom with a towel wrapped neatly around his waist.
He nodded with a gentle smile. “I needed it, I think.” He looked at you. “You look beautiful, baby. Where are you going?”
“You mean, where are we going?” You said, emphasizing ‘we.’ “We’re going on a walk. Let’s get out here. I’m tired of looking out from ten stories up, and I think you need a change in scenery.” You spoke lightheartedly. You knew he would attempt to stay in, but you wouldn’t let him.
“Eh, well, I was just thinking about staying in, catching up on reading. I’ve been trying to finish that book for a week, you know,” he said, pinching the hair at the nape of his neck, indicating that though he wasn’t lying, the book wasn’t the reason he wanted to hide.
“Josh. I am asking you to spend time with me. It’s not often that you have a day off with me, and I can tell you’re upset about something,” you said, stepping closer to him, taking his hand in yours. “Talk to me. A short walk. We don’t have to go to any stores…no cars…not even lunch. Just a walk. You and me,” you said, looking into his eyes, neutralizing your expression. “Please.”
Maybe you were being overbearing. Guilt tugged at you slightly, but you pushed it back down. You didn’t ever want Josh to feel like he needed to retreat emotionally, that he couldn’t speak to you. He hadn’t said much about the concert last night, anyway. So this would give you an opportunity to ask him. Surprisingly, he didn’t argue further. “Okay, let’s go,” he said, offering you a gentle smile that simultaneously filled your heart and broke it at the same time.
The walk began quietly as you held hands, taking time to watch people and to take in the view of the busy city, watching so many people flit in and out of shops with armfuls of shopping bags.
“No shopping,” Josh said with a grin, squeezing your hand.
“I know,” you said, copying his expression. “But you can’t blame me for just looking,” you said, pushing into his shoulder playfully.
“Can I buy you a coffee?” You asked. “I think we could both use the pick-me-up.”
“I’m buying,” he said. “Me paying it forward for waking up so late.”
“Alright,” you nodded. “Let’s go.”
Ten minutes later, you both stepped out with fresh drinks in hand, sipping blissfully on the liquid joy. “Worth it. So worth it,” you said, the words falling out in a sing-song flutter. Josh was already well into his beverage, having tipped his nitro cold brew at an almost gulp.
“I got this while you were waiting for the drinks,” you said, lifting a croissant in the air.
“Give me some,” he said, reaching for the pastry as you walked together.
“No, no no. It’s for the geese,” you told him.
“Geese?” He asked, his brow wrinkling. You couldn’t help but giggle at how his nose crinkled. The way the corner of his lips tilted made your belly flip.
“Come on, I saw them before we got coffee.” You took his hand and led him into an urban park that served as an oasis away from the honking horns, industrial screech of construction, and shouting people. In the center of the park, there was a rectangular man-made pond installed. There were several benches lining the perimeter. Gaggles of ducks and geese waddled about, taking bread and seeds from passersby. You led the way, walking to an empty bench and sitting down. Josh pulled you lovingly into his arms, something that was so innate, he didn’t even have to think about it. You both sat quietly, tearing pieces off of the croissant and tossing them to the ground, watching the birds peck at them.
“Can I ask you something?” You asked, breaking the silence as you flung a piece in front of you. He looked up from the ground at you.
“Sure,” he said, tossing a piece of croissant into his mouth.
“What happened last night at the concert?” You asked, immediately regretting even mentioning it. He turned rigid as soon as the words left your mouth.
“Eh, it was just a concert, not that much to report.”
“Please don’t lie to me,” you said slowly, your voice shrinking quieter and quieter. He stopped talking. His eyes told you what you needed to know. You looked up at him, matching his gaze.
“I saw something that you wrote–this morning, before we left. I shouldn’t have read it, it was personal–” You spoke, adjusting nervously in your seat. He looked like he was going to turn green. You continued.
“Josh, are you seriously worried about the band because of some stupid charity concert?”
“You read my journal? Why would you do that?” He asked, his face growing angry before calming slightly. “And It wasn’t a stupid concert. It was for charity,” he corrected pointedly. “But you weren’t there. You don’t know. It was fucking embarrassing.”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have read it, and I’m sorry. But what do you mean it was embarrassing. What happened?” You asked, pulling your feet up on the bench to sit cross legged.
“No one sang our songs, no one swayed to light my love…no one even clapped, really.” He tossed more bread to the ground as he spoke. “We didn’t even give the roses away.”
“What do you mean?” you asked, though you knew very well.
“I didn’t even pass out roses, Y/n. There was no one to give them to.”
“Okay, but that was just one concert,” you said, trying your best to be encouraging. “And it wasn’t your show, you know. You weren’t headlining.”
“You’re not making me feel better, babe,” Josh said, looking over at you with an ironically amused expression. He shrugged before speaking again. “I don’t really know why I feel the way I do. It’s stupid.”
You placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s not stupid. Not in the slightest. There is so much pressure on all of you to do a great job every single night–and you know what? You’re also human. Did you feel this way the other night in Raleigh?” He shook his head.
“No, that show was amazing,” he said, softly sniffling, looking ahead of you over the sparkling water. “This one just didn’t feel the same.” He shook his head.
“You will play thousands and thousands of shows, Josh. Many of them will be strange, some will have technical difficulties, and others? Hell, you might forget the words or I don’t know, bust an ear drum?” You asked with a smirk.
“Hey, hey, hey. Those were extenuating circumstances.”
“My point is, you’ve got to shake this one off. You have millions of people out there that depend on your music to speak to them every night when you step on stage. You mean so much to so many people, and one weird show or performance can’t discount that, can it?”
He shook his head. “No, not really. I just don’t want to disappoint them.”
“You’ll disappoint them if you stop telling stories. You have a gift, Josh–and I’m not telling you this because I love you. The first thing I noticed about you when I first saw you play was the passion you have for music, and even more so, for your brothers. Jake, Sam, and Danny count on you just as much as you count on them,” you say. He picked at the seam of his pants while he listened. “I have an idea.”
He looked up at you expectantly. “What?”
“Why don’t you guys take some time during sound check tomorrow to play with something new? Something you love…literally anything. Take a break from this music for a second. You guys need to jam, you know?” You got up and decided you didn’t care about the way you looked. You began to play the air guitar in front of him. “Sing your favorite songs, right?” His eyes followed you as you pranced around in front of him, mimicking Danny and the way he plays the drums, and you tried your best to copy his expressions. Josh chuckled softly, revealing a row of sparkling teeth. “Sing with me,” you said, stepping forward to pull him off the bench.
“You’re crazy,” he said, coming to stand beside you. You didn’t stop dancing. You’d do whatever you could to pull the sadness and insecurity from his body, even if it meant embarrassing yourself in public.
“Not as crazy as you are. You do this every night for a living,” you fired back. He took your hands and danced terribly, his body lurching and tilting in ways that looked far more like interpretive dance. You cackled. Loudly. So loudly, your cheeks filled with warmth, and your gut began to pinch as your belly hitched with laughter. Josh reached for you again, returning to the pathetic dance routine. Eventually you both broke apart breathlessly, having completely forgotten about the rough start to the day. You both relaxed back into the park bench and you pulled yourself into his arms, laying your head against his chest.
“You’re right,” he said after a long time, looking down at you. You flicked your eyes up to meet his gaze. “That show doesn’t matter, and I honestly feel like I did some of my best singing, too.” His fingers wound loosely through your hair. “It’s just all so precarious, you know?” He asked the question, but really, you didn’t know. You weren’t a musician by trade, you were just a good partner. His partner. “I don’t want us to fade into nothing. That just scares the shit out of me.”
“Then continue to tell an honest story,” you told him. “You’ll always have someone listening if you remember why you all started this in the first place. It’s because you had and still have something to say. Do you think you’ve run out of stories yet?” You asked him.
“Not by a long shot,” he answered.
“Then, maybe it’s time to go back to your roots and write from the heart–introduce something new that feels nostalgic and special at the same time.”
“I think you’re on to something,” Josh said, adjusting in his seat to cross his arms across his chest. “You know what? After the show tomorrow, I think we all need to get together and just play.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I’ve been thinking of some lyrics, so maybe Jake and I could try some melodies and see what works.” You couldn’t hide the smile that spread across your face.
“And I’ll be there in the corner giggling while you argue with Jake. Maybe Danny will invite me to play minigolf while you two figure it out.”
“I guess it’s all part of the…creative process.” Josh added with a grin.
“I can’t wait to see what you come up with,” you told him, taking his hand in yours.
“Well, we’ve got a while until then. For now, let’s go do something fun,” Josh changed the subject, standing up and taking the lead. “Have it in you to risk your life for a crappy, creaky roller-coaster and a corndog?” You tilted your head, a bit unsure of what he had up his sleeve.
“Come on, every large coastal city has some type of Coney Island knock-off. Let’s go on an adventure.” His entire mood had shifted to one of optimism and curiosity, and you weren’t about to say no to him.
“Only if you win me a gigantic plushie.” You said with a bright smile.
“I'll check another bag on the plane if I have to,” He said, leaning forward to kiss you gently on the lips.
“Deal,” you agreed happily, returning the kiss against his lips, letting him take the first step forward out of the park.
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July 5th, 1818
For my early birthday present, Aunt Helena and Uncle Peregrine have given me a diary they secretly hid in Frederick’s carriage. I will not see them until the latter half of August, as they are to accompany Martha to Picelieri this coming Friday on her engagement trip. It will be a special time for her, and her last trip as an unmarried woman. Ashley and Patience will remain here in Isturia. I will admit, I currently feel silly, as I thought Frederick had given me a gift. He laughed at me when I read that it was from my dear Aunt and Uncle. This was the first time I’ve seen him smile today. He sits across from me and his gaze is fixed upon the passing landscapes. We have just left Elmsworth and have started towards Oakmere to see Frederick’s mother. He was in a frenzy this morning to get to see her and was adamant that we should leave before ten o’clock. He would not tell me why we were leaving so early, so I could only assume something was wrong. There is a certain sadness in his eyes, and he looks like he is on the verge of tears. I just wish I could hold him in my embrace again once more like last night. He kissed me twice yesterday, and I am at the peak of my bliss! That is all I can think about. I do hope whatever is troubling him will be resolved soon. I must stop writing now, as we have just arrived at Oakmere.
from the beginning | previous | next
#regency ts4#regency sims 4#ts4 regency#sims 4 regency#vintage sims#ts4 simblr#sims 4 historical story#TCOTD
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We’re Glad Your Okay
Darry Curtis x GN!Reader
By-Sandy
Word Count: 985
Warnings: Not proofread and might have a bit of angst??
-The scene where Darry hits Ponyboy by mistake, and then Ponyboy runs off with Johnny and then Bob gets murder by Johnny and then Johnny and pony boy go to the church. Dallas told them about it, and then the church it’s lit on fire, and so on and so forth. (ifykyk)
-You have been with Darry since high school, you go to the local college (not community), and you're parents before they passed away had funds saved for you to go to college.
-You live with Darry, Sodapop, and Ponyboy.
DISCLAIMER: THE LINES ARE NOT ACCURATE
You were in the kitchen grabbing a snack. It was around two o’clock in the morning. You grabbed a bag of chips and walked over to where Sodapop and Darry were, you saw Ponyboy.
“Where the hell have you been? Do you know what time it is?” Darry yelled and got up from the chair throwing today’s paper down on the chair.
“Yeah Ponyboy, where have you been?” Sodapop asked looking at Pony
Ponyboy looked at you with fear and Darry saw this “Don’t drag Y/N, into this.” He said firmily
“Darry...” You said softly walking towards Ponyboy
“No.” He said looking at you coldly. “Ponyboy where have you been?” He asked again this time even more angry
“I was talking to Johnny in the lot and we must have fallenn asleep or somethin’...” He said putting his hand behind his neck
You wrapped him into a hug before Darry could say anything
“He is just worried...” You whispered
“Yeah right” He whispered back as you pulled out of the hug
“Y/N, what the hell?!” Darry screamed
You turned around to look at your boyfriend in astonishment. The room got quiet, and you left.
“Night, Soda and Pony.” You said looking your boyfriend up and down.
When you got into the room you chuckled in disbelief. You heard Darry arguing with the boys. A few moments later you heard a big noise, that sounded like someone getting hurt. You went out of the room to see Ponyboy running out of the house with Darry and Soda following him. They came back and Sodapop walked to his room looking at you sadly. You turned to see Darry walking over to sit on the couch.
You walked over and said firmly “What the hell...just happened?” You said sitting down.
“I hit Pony.” Darry said softly
“YOU WHAT?!” You stood up yelling
“I didn't mean too!” He yelled back also standing up
“Stop. Just stop.” You said sniffing walking say heading back to y’all’s room.
“Y/N...” You heard him call out softly
You closed the door with a bang, and jumped onto the bed and we're out like a light.
----
You heard the door open softly but with a creak, and you heard a familiar sad and husky voice say quietly “Sweetheart? I don't know if you can hear but I am so sorry…” the voice said sitting on the bed and stroking your hair.
“Darry?” You asked into the pillow you face-forward on.
“Yes, sweetheart?” He asked
“Are you tired?” You replied
“Yes but I mean, I can’t sleep without Pony-”
“Ponyboy’s not back?” You said shooting up to face your tired and frightened boyfriend
“Yeah..” He said sitting next to you
“Oh love..” You said putting your head on his shoulder
You heard him sniffle, “I didn't mean to...”
“I know, love...” You said grabbing his hand
Y'all stayed like that for what felt like hours, then the next thing you know is your waking up on your boyfriends chest.
“Morning, beautiful...”He said with a sad smile
( oh god i cant, sad darry makes my heart break)
“Hey, handsome..” You said putting your hand on his cheek, you yawned and sat up.
“Is he back?” You asked hopefully
“No…” He said sighing looking the other way
“He will be…don’t-“ You began and then stopped yourself, the last thing he needs is you saying that.
“Don’t what?” He said looking back at you with curiosity
“It’s nothing, I am going to make breakfast. Two-Bit and Steve are gonna be here soon. And you should get ready for work.” You said getting up giving him a kiss, but he pulled you back into to bed wrapping his strong and safe arms around you.
“As much as I would love to stay here, Dar, I can’t.” You said trying to wiggle your way out of his grasp.
“But…”He said pleadingly
“No. Sitting in bed isn’t gonna help anything.” You said escaping from his grasp and leaving the room.
———
You, Sodapop, and Darry were in the hospital, you were arguing with the nurse.
“What the hell do you mean you don’t know where he is?!” You said with angry, with Darry and Sodapop behind you. They couldnt not say anything they were to scared that Ponyboy didn’t make.
“Ma’am….as I have said multiple times and I will say it again. He wasn’t in the need of our assistance so he he most likely in the waiting room.” She said firmly losing patience
You walked off with Darry and Sodapop following you, Sodapop froze.
“Isn’t that Pony?” He said softly
Darry and you looked over and Ponyboy made eye contact with Sodapop. He ran over, his face and body were covered in smoke stains and his hair was poorly bleached.
Him and Sodapop joined in a hug. “Your tuff hair, your tuff tuff hair.” He said sadly with a smile.
“Don’t talk about it.” He said pulling away from the hug and looking at you.
“Y/N!” He cheered running and pulling you into a hug
You began to cry, you were so happy he was okay. You squeezed him, afraid to let him go. Ponyboy was the closet thing you had to a brother. You felt like he was your little brother and it pained you that he was gone for so long.
(In this one shot, the reader lost her younger brother and parents due to an accident.)
“Y/N..” He said coughing
You stopped hugging him instantly “I am sorry, I just.”
“Dont apologize…” He said and looked over to see Darry.
“Ponyboy..”
“Darry..I am so sorry” He said giving him a bear hug, Darry started to cry and said “I thought we lost you like we lost mom and dad..”
He pulled you and Sodapop into the hug, now you all were crying.
“I love y’all so much…” Darry said
Ponyboy sniffled “I love y’all too.”
AHH THIS IS SO SAD BUT SWEEET
-Sandy
#the outsiders#the outsiders x reader#the outsiders imagine#darry curtis#sodapop curtis#ponyboy curtis#darry curtis imagine#the outsiders darry#darry curtis x reader
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uh... tuesday? - jamie drysdale
request: could you do a jamie drysdale fic where they get into an argument, and jamie says stuff he doesn’t mean, but then at the very end they apologize and it’s like fluff
requested by: anon : )
notes: not sure how much i like the ending, but the rest of it was fun! thanks for requesting <3
tags: @woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme , @zegras2crosby , @l0veforhugh3s <3 || join my taglist!
gif not mine!
you tapped your foot nervously.
it was nearly eight o’clock, and you and jamie had agreed to meet here at seven. although the place wasn’t too fancy, it was fancy enough that people began to notice you waiting on someone.
“ma’am, are you still ordering?” the waitress came back for the fifth time.
you sighed, finally admitting to yourself that jamie wasn’t going to show. “i’ll just take some of the chocolate cake.”
the waitress’ eyes softened marginally, and she nodded, bringing your cake back quickly.
you ate numbly, wondering why the hell jamie had been so adamant on a date today. it was your two-year anniversary, but you were alright celebrating later on in the week. the ducks had just come back from a long and sad road trip yesterday, and you wanted jamie to be rested and happy for your small celebration. he disagreed, saying he wanted to do it on the day. you gave in, mainly because he seemed so excited about something for the first time in a long time.
i shouldn’t have agreed, you thought to yourself as you made your way into the car. if you hadn’t agreed, you wouldn’t have been embarrassed in front of so many people.
you made your way to your apartment, locking the door behind you. jamie was nowhere to be found. you opened your phone, scrolling through a wave of unanswered texts to jamie from your end.
annoyed and angry, you slipped out of your dress, scrubbing your makeup off and changing into your pajamas. you climbed into bed early, still no answer from jamie.
it must’ve been around midnight when you felt the bed dip, rousing you.
you lifted your head, being shushed by jamie as he apologized loudly for waking you up. you ignored him, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. turning the lamp on, you blinked at jamie’s dishevelled appearance.
he smelt like alcohol.
while you’d been stood up by your boyfriend on your anniversary (because he wanted to do it the day of), he’d been out drinking.
“where have you been?” you asked, barely trying to keep your voice down.
“out with the guys,” he merely answered. he wasn’t drunk yet, but he smelled strongly of alcohol.
“do you know what last night was?” you asked, crossing your arms. you’d cooled off as you slept, but jamie’s nonchalant attitude was starting to get you mad and annoyed all over again.
“uh… tuesday?” he guessed.
“it was our anniversary,” you corrected him. “you’d told me to meet you at the restaurant at seven o’clock, remember?”
you watched jamie rack his messy thoughts, trying to remember. his eyes widened briefly as he realized what you were talking about.
“oh right!” he snapped his fingers. he began to pull the blanket over himself, “that was last night? i forgot.”
outraged, you pulled the blanket back.
“it was your idea!” you yelled.
“what the fuck, y/n?!” he was shouting too now. “it’s a stupid mistake, who cares? we can go tomorrow.”
“that was what i had planned out,” you reminded him. “but then you decided no, let’s go out on the day of our anniversary. this was your idea,” you jammed your finger in his chest. “the least you could do is be there for it.”
“great, i’m the bad guy,” he rolled his eyes. “you’re just overreacting. let’s talk about this in the morning.”
you scoffed as jamie turned his back on you, pulling the blanket over himself.
you felt like the reaction you’d had was very appropriate. not only did he forget, you were embarrassed in front of a group of people. sure, you’d never see them again, but it wasn’t good for your come-and-go confidence.
grabbing your pillow, you yanked the blanket off of jamie as you got off the bed.
“holy shit, y/n! i thought we said we’ll talk about it tomorrow?!” he sat up, reaching for the blanket. he blinked twice at the sight of you leaving the room with the blanket and your pillow.
“y/n?” he called. “y/n? where are you going?”
you didn’t answer, setting your pillow and blanket on the couch. you’d just gotten settled when the blanket was yanked off of you.
“what do you want, jamie?” you groaned, reaching for the blanket.
“why are you sleeping here?” he asked.
“i don’t want to sleep in the same bed as you right now,” you answered. “i’m mad and annoyed, and i might do something stupid.”
“like smother me in my sleep?” he furrowed his brows.
you almost laughed out loud, freezing when you remembered you were supposed to be mad at him.
“maybe,” you answered instead.
jamie studied you for a second, the realization that this was something you weren’t happy about, finally making its way to his slow brain.
“go sleep on the bed,” he said finally, nudging you.
“huh?”
“i’ll take the couch. you go sleep on the bed,” he told you.
you appreciated the concern, but shook your head anyways. sure you were a little stubborn, but he deserved this. “i don’t want to. now give me the blanket back.”
jamie sighed, deciding you weren’t going to give in. he climbed on top of you, throwing the blanket over you two.
“jamie!” you yelled, swatting him as he tried to fit the two of you on the couch.
you ended up lying on top of him more than the sofa. you were tired and cold, and jamie was warm and for that moment, all the anger you felt disappeared.
“i’m sorry,” he whispered, running his fingers through your hair. “i’m an idiot, who should know better than to try and plan something. you weren’t overreacting.”
“i was a little,” you admitted softly.
jamie laughed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with you.
“i’m sorry too,” you told him. “for stealing the blanket from you.”
“it’s okay,” he grinned, the two of your laughter echoing through the walls of your home.
#jamie drysdale#jamie drysdale oneshot#jamie drysdale one shot#jamie drysdale imagine#jamie drysdale blurb#jamie drysdale imagines#jamie drysdale blurbs#jamie drysdale x reader#jamie drysdale fic#jamie drysdale oneshots#anaheim duck blurb#anaheim ducks imagine#anaheim ducks fic#anaheim ducks#anaheim ducks imagines#anaheim ducks x reader#nhl fic#nhl imagine#nhl blurb#nhl#nhl x reader#hockey fic#hockey x reader#hockey#hockey imagine#naqia writes!
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sneak 👏 peek 👏 friday 👏
haven’t written much this week because i was catching up on stranger things and steddie had me in a chokehold. i’m not a big fan of the series but it’s so refreshing to read new fics in a new fandom, i had missed that feeling (also love how the fandom collectively agreed to ignore the s04 finale, bc it was bullshit, and instead started their own fix-it fanfics, as it should be lol). anyway, here we go c:
top gun | icemav | wip (birthday oneshot)
—
He's zipping up his khakis when the phone rings. Maverick frowns. It's ass o’clock in the morning, and he definitely isn’t expecting anyone to call at this hour. He crosses the distance to the wall where the phone hangs and picks up.
“Mitchell speaking.”
“Uncle Mav!” it’s a whisper-shout, and it lights up every fiber in Maverick’s body.
“Hey, little guy! What are you doing up?”
“It’s your birthday, Uncle Mav! I wanted to be the first to wish you a happy birthday, of course!”
Maverick snorts. “Of course.”
“It’s today, right? Daddy said it was, and Ms Riley helped me mark it in my calendar. Ms Riley is my new teacher, by the way! She’s sub– subti– she’s teaching us while Mrs Sophie is on leave! Did you know she’s having a baby? She said it could be born any day now, that’s why she’s gonna stay home and rest! I was sad at first, because I really like art classes with Mrs Sophie, but I guess Ms Riley is cool too. She helped me make your present, did you know?”
Maverick’s grinning from ear to ear. He fucking loves the kid.
#top gun#icemav#pete maverick mitchell#bradley rooster bradshaw#sneak peek friday#i had a shit birthday so of course my response is to write a fic where i can project my feelings#but don’t worry#i won’t make mav have a shit bday#my boy deserves the best things#which means a hot boyfriend and an adorable pseudo nephew #fanfic#writing#zas writes
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royjamie spotify wrapped fic: #3
requests can go in my ask box or in the comments of this post
requested by @justsomefunshit
fic is under the cut
3. Me and the Devil - Soap&Skin
Early this morning
When you knocked upon my door
Early this morning
When you knocked upon my door
And I said hello Satan, ah
I believe it is time to go
It was early when Jamie knocked on Roy’s door. 4 o’clock to be exact.
Why was Jamie here, this early in the morning, when Roy had told Jamie last night that today’s training was canceled?
Roy opens the door, too tired to be angry really, but his resting face was a scowl, so he guesses that’s good enough. “What are you doing here, Tartt? Training’s canceled today. You should be resting that ankle,” Roy says in what was supposed to come out as a scold. He still lets Jamie inside.
“Couldn’t sleep, Coach,” Jamie says, but it’s clearly not the whole story. “Need to do something, feeling too antsy to try and sleep.”
“Come on, let’s go sit on the couch. I’ll find something for you to do,” Roy replies, leading Jamie farther into his house. They sit on the couch, and Roy turns on the TV. It flashes on, showing what was last playing.
“Didn’t know you were such a Barbie fan, Coach,” Jamie jokes. He still doesn’t look quite right.
“Phoebe had to stay overnight, Ruth had an overnight shift and I’m her resident babysitter,” Roy answers. He turns the movie on, doesn’t even look to see which one it is. He’d like to say they all blend together, but he often finds himself getting more invested in the movie than Phoebe.
“No offense, Coach, but I don’t think a movie’s going to be enough to keep me occupied,” Jamie tells Roy, but not in a joking way. He seems so sad, like he just needs someone to be there for him, but sorry to be a burden. Roy doesn’t have anything better to do, and Jamie, as much as he hates to admit it, is his friend. Someone he cares about.
Roy grabs what he’d been working on last night and hands the other kit to Jamie. “What’s this, Coach?” Jamie asks.
“Embroidery. The yoga mums got me into it. It’s calming,” Roy answers. “You want to try it?”
“Not sure if I can be trusted with a needle right now, Coach. Might stab meself,” Jamie answers, looking down. “Sorry. I should just go, shouldn’t I?”
“You’re not going anywhere, Jamie,” Roy states. “You clearly need someone here for you, and you came to me. Not going to let you just go home like this.” Roy takes the embroidery kit out of his hands, and insteads hands him a clipboard with three pieces of black string clipped to it.
“The hell am I supposed to do with this, Coach?”
“Braid it.”
“Alright.”
Roy goes back to doing his embroidery and watching the movie. There’s someone currently getting kidnapped on screen, or something. Roy honestly hasn’t been paying attention to the movie much, too worried about Jamie to really get into it. Jamie is intensely staring down at the clipboard, carefully braiding the strings together. If he stays like that for too long he’ll get a crick in his neck.
When did Roy start worrying about Jamie getting a crick in his neck? When did he start thinking of Jamie as more than a player? As more than a friend?
“Oi, stop hanging your head like that. You’ll fuck up your neck if you keep that up,” Roy advises. Jamie moves himself to sit further back on the couch, his back meeting the couch. Roy gives him a nod of approval.
Roy follows his own directions. This puts him right next to Jamie, shoulders touching, their knees with very little space from each other's.
“Can I ask a question, Coach?”
“Just did.”
“Coach.”
“Go ahead.”
“Why’d you let me in?” Jamie asks, fingers still braiding the strings together. He’s not doing great, but it’s not horrendous either.
“You looked like a ghost, Jamie. Couldn’t leave you out there,” Roy answers. “Couldn’t have my star player getting hypothermia, could I?” The joke falls flat. “Seriously, Jamie. I was worried for you.”
“Thanks, Coach,” Jamie says, but he looks like he wants to say more.
“Want to talk about what brought you over here?”
“Not really.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“My dad came over to my house after the game. Wanted to know why I passed. Why I let Dani take the shot instead of me. Why I went back to Richmond,” Jamie says. “Got mad when I asked him to leave. Started to throw stuff and I just left. Booked it. Went anywhere but there. Had an Uber drive around for like an hour. Then I came here.”
“How long were you outside my door, Jamie?” Roy asks, concerned but with a twinge of scold in his voice. It was freezing outside, he could have gotten sick.
“Half an hour,” Jamie lies. Roy gives him a look. “Hour and a half.”
Roy stands up and goes to the TV stand. On the far right is a cabinet that opens like a laundry chute. Roy grabs a total of three blankets and comes back to the couch. He sits down and lays the blankets over Jamie and himself. He puts a hand around Jamie’s shoulders. Their sides are pressed up against each other again. They both relax.
--------
“Uncle Roy, why is Jamie Tartt sleeping on the couch?”
Roy and Jamie immediately wake up when they hear Phoebe’s voice. “Uh…” Jamie starts. Roy guesses they relaxed too much and fell asleep. With Jamie’s head resting on Roy’s chest. Awkward.
“Jamie and I had a sleepover since his house was having some issues.”
“Will he be staying tonight too?” Phoebe asks, excited.
Jamie looks worried, but Roy has a smirk on his face. “He can stay as long as he likes.” Jamie looks less worried now.
“Can I have pancakes now?”
“Ooh! Pancakes!” Jamie says, perking up.
“Yes, Phoebe, you can have pancakes,” Roy says before turning to Jamie. “You can have pancakes, but only if you help clean up afterwards.”
“Got it, Coach!”
And he does.
#jamie tartt#ted lasso#roy kent#royjamie#roy x jamie#my fic#this was not beta'd#no beta we die like men
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I realized around eight o’clock this morning that I could either go to the Korean Spa today or I could cook, and it’s a little sad that I chose cooking. Still, there’s nothing like hot fresh pizza, and the roasted oyster mushrooms make a great topping. I could eat those things like potato chips.
I also have focaccia dough rising (I needed something to top with all the roasted onions I made from the last farm share) and I’m experimenting with an updated recipe for beer bread that uses a 16oz can instead of a 12oz. I had to make a run to the store for bread flour, which feels like some kind of life milestone, and I’m glad I went when I did because I got the last five-pound bag. King Arthur is doing themselves a disservice by not allowing me to mail order a ten pound bag of bread flour from them directly.
[ID: Two homemade pizzas cooling on a rack; both have a layer of melted cheese, and one is topped with golden-brown roasted oyster mushrooms, the other with pepperoni.]
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