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starlightkun · 5 months

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➠ word count: 21.3k ➠ warnings: cursing, once again everything i know about hockey is from the internet and only for this fic i’m sorry, a couple different blood/injury mentions, needle/injection mention and descriptions, mentions of other medical testing/settings, just chronically ill girlie things 🤪 ➠ genre: fluff, sooo much fluff they’re sooo in love tbh, a bit of hurt/comfort sprinkled in, established relationship, college au, hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), christmas-y for a couple scenes in the middle, sequel to buzzer beater ➠ extra info: this is the sequel to buzzer beater, which you should definitely read before this one so you know what’s going on! the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines/chronic illnesses, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds! ➠ author’s note: i’m sooo down astronomically bad for hockey player sungchan and i hope you all are too bc take a look at that word count lol. anyway have fun!! ➠ series masterlist | spotify playlist

You felt more giggle than human at this point, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his collar to hide it from him and get a moment to recover your aching smile muscles. He hugged you even tighter to him, resting his chin on your head.

i. i will give you my palm to help you walk through the hurtful, want to give you that calm that you have so long searched for

[sicheng: come get your mans]

The random text from Sicheng made you shoot up on your couch. Hockey practice was happening right now, you were expecting Sungchan to come over to your place after—and also to not be getting texts from anybody on the team at the moment.

[you: hello? what?]

[sicheng: no seriously come pick him up he took a puck to the face]

You rushed through the automatic doors into the rink, looking around for any sign of paramedics or— The rest of the team was still practicing, and there was no obvious bright red blood on the ice, that was a good sign, at least. Nobody on the ice seemed to have even noticed your entrance. Okay, so maybe not a huge emergency then.

Taking a couple steps down the hallway that led into the locker room, you called out, “Sungchan? Sicheng?”

“Yeah! In here!” Sicheng replied. “You can come in!”

Throwing the door open, you immediately saw the goalie standing over Sungchan, who was sat on one of the benches, holding a rag up to his face. The white towel was blotted with crimson blood, and you gasped.

“Sungchan!” You darted towards them.

Sungchan lowered his hand, and you could finally see some of the damage. The blood was streaming down from a gash on the right side of his forehead, by his hairline.

No black eyes, though.

He gave you a wincing smile, and you thankfully saw all of his teeth still there. “Y/N, hey...”

You looked down at him incredulously, “How did you even—”

“I’m okay, baby,” he reassured you, reaching out with his free hand to squeeze your forearm.

“That’s not what I said. Aren’t you supposed to be wearing a helmet and visor out there? How did you get a puck to your bare forehead?”

“I’ll leave him to you,” Sicheng declared, backing away from you two. “I’ve got to get back to practice.”

“I wasn’t on the ice,” Sungchan explained. “I was talking to Sicheng by the gate. Rogue puck, he ducked in time, I didn’t.”

You knew whereabouts on the rink he was talking about. The school’s rink was also used for ice skating for some extra money, and had a separate entrance onto the ice for those patrons aside from the entrance from the players’ benches. Since he wasn’t anywhere on the ice, Sungchan must’ve felt comfortable taking his helmet off.

“And you didn’t have your helmet on.”

“Well, yeah,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Open gate, no helmet, rogue puck to the face,” you summarized, taking the towel from his hand to wipe up a drop of blood that had been inching down his temple while you two spoke. It at least wasn’t bleeding as profusely as before, the blood starting to coagulate.

“Really, isn’t it Sicheng’s fault? For ducking? He had a helmet on, he would’ve been fine if it hit him.”

“Mm, of course. Blame the guy with better reflexes than you.” You tossed the rag into the team laundry basket in the corner. “Alright, get changed, I’m taking you home.”

“Okay,” he agreed with a great sigh, bending over to untie his skates, then immediately sat back up. “Woah…”

As Sungchan blinked quickly to get reoriented, you dropped to one knee in front of him to start undoing his laces. “Lightheaded?”

“A bit…”

“I don’t know if I should be hoping for blood loss or concussion.”

After you’d gotten his skates off him, he was able to change out of his uniform and into casual clothes on his own. Slinging his practice bag over your shoulder, you handed his gear bag to him, knowing that you wouldn’t quite be able to manage that yourself. Without even waiting for him, you grabbed his arm to wrap it around your shoulders and snaked yours around his waist, the memory of him getting lightheaded replaying in your mind.

As the two of you left the cold rink into the equally cold December air, you kept an eye on Sungchan for any signs of him needing medical attention beyond your capabilities. Aside from the injury itself, he seemed fine, just with a slightly jutted-out bottom lip as he kept his eyes trained on the ground in front of his feet.

“What’s the pouty face for?” You asked.

“I’m not pouting.” Sungchan resisted.

“Yes you are. You look like a 186-centimeter baby. What’s wrong? Other than your acute case of puck face.”

The pout become even more prominent as he mumbled, “It’s like you’re not even worried about me...”

“Ah, of course I’m worried about my Sungchannie,” you promised, pulling him even closer with the arm you had around his waist. You moved it up to rub his back as you leaned your head against him affectionately. “I’m just so used to seeing guys get their teeth knocked out and their noses broken at your games that when Sicheng said you got a puck to the face, that’s what I was expecting to see. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it seem like I didn’t care. I was just relieved, is all.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded firmly. “Besides, I’m clearly worried enough to take you home and patch you up myself.”

“You are?” He asked hopefully.

“Oh yeah, I’ve got this first aid kit that’s about as big as you are. You’re going to be good as new, baby boy.”

His face finally cracked into a smile. “Why do you have a first aid kit that big?”

“It was the only one at the store that came with alcohol wipes. I need them for my monthly injection, to disinfect the injection site.”

“Right.” He squeezed your upper arm. “Of course, the girl that has to have an entire pharmacy in her kitchen.”

You nudged him with your shoulder teasingly, “And my Sungchannie, who has to take hockey pucks to the face.”

Once the two of you had arrived at your apartment, you immediately pointed to your couch. “Sit.”

Sungchan obeyed easily, plopping down without another word. He took off a couple layers now that you weren’t in the biting winter cold, setting them on the cushion beside him as you bustled over to your kitchen.

“My head hurts,” he announced, sounding downright pitiful.

“Really? Your head hurts?” You pouted at him, getting on your tiptoes to pull down your massive first aid kit from your cabinet.

“Uh-huh.”

“Aw, my poor Sungchannie,” you cooed, setting the huge first aid kit down on the coffee table and popping it open.

The apartment heating had kicked on, so you finally took off your heavy parka and overcoat as well, leaving you just in the base lounge clothes you’d been in before you’d hurried to get dressed with the urgent texts from Sicheng.

First, you tipped a couple of over-the-counter painkillers into his waiting hand, and he knocked them back with a sip from his water bottle.

Grabbing a couple alcohol swabs and boxes of bandages, you asked, “Okay, Hello Kitty, spaceships, or Pokémon?”

“Mm… What kind of Pokémon?”

“First gen. I think it’s mostly Gengars and Psyducks left in there.”

“A Gengar please,” he requested sweetly.

You fished a bandage out, pre-ripping the end of the packaging before setting it on the arm of the couch. Standing in between Sungchan’s legs as he was reclined back on your couch, you leaned over him, very gingerly brushing his hair back from his forehead so you could see the injury better. Thankfully, the bleeding had stopped between the rink and your place, all clotted blood and the start of scabs. Less thankfully for him, you were about to sanitize all of that. Gently turning his head so you could get better light, you tore open the first alcohol wipe and lightly touched it to the very edge of where you thought the wound started. Sungchan’s forehead wrinkled, but he didn’t make a sound. You continued at your task for another second before he finally spoke up.

“Y/N.”

“Sorry, I know it stings, but I’m almost done.” You promised. “I’d go faster but the lighting isn’t great in here, and some of it goes into your hair.”

“Don’t you think you’d be able to see better…” A pair of hands grabbed your hips, encouraging you closer, closer, down, down, until you were straddling Sungchan's lap, a knee on either side of him. “Like this?”

You were about to make a retort, except this tragically did get your own head out of the way enough to stop casting a shadow where you needed. So instead, you looked down at him with an eyebrow raised.

“How injured are you, really?” You questioned, pink-tinged alcohol wipe still in hand.

“So injured,” he fake-whined, settling his hands on your thighs.

“I’m sure.” But you made no move to leave, instead leaning in and getting back to work cleaning up the area.

Sungchan provided no more obvious distraction to you as you did so, seeming content to just smooth his thumbs over your clothed thighs and trace shapes there with his fingers. When you were finally able to see where the skin was split, you frowned, using your fingers to part his hair and inspect how far back it went.

“How long do I have, Doc?” He joked.

“You’ll live, but the bandages aren’t going to help the part that’s in your hair,” you forewarned. “That means be gentle when shampooing while its healing.”

“Sounds complicated. What if I mess it up? I think you should do it for me,” he suggested with a smirk, fingertips playing with the hem of your sweatshirt— well, really it was his sweatshirt, but he’d forfeited it to you some time ago.

“Is there something about getting injured that just turns you into a horndog?” You scoffed. For emphasis, you pinched the sliver of skin on his stomach that was exposed where his own t-shirt had ridden up above the hem of his pants and boxers.

He sat up then, forcing you to lean back to avoid smacking faces, but he just chased you forward until you were nearly nose-to-nose.

“No, there’s something about you being so worried and taking such good care of me that makes me want to show you how much I adore… you… back...” He punctuated the last three words with kisses that went up your neck to your jaw.

You looked up at the ceiling, as if pretending to consider this reason. But the happy smile that was working its way across your lips clearly gave away the fact that your mind was already made up. You snaked a hand between the two of you to push him back against the couch by the chest and hold him there.

“Alright, but at least let me put this Gengar bandage on you first, hm?”

ii. you are so beautifully, so brutally out of comprehension, and how lonely i was in the before and after

With a sigh, you rolled over in bed and checked the time. One hour until Sungchan was supposed to pick you up. It felt like somebody was slowly squeezing your head in some kind of medieval torture machine. There was no way this migraine was going away before your date. When it’d come on within thirty minutes of you waking up, you were hopeful that it’d pass and you could still make it, but clearly you had no such luck.

You sullenly drafted your text to him.

[you: hey, channie, im really sorry about this. i know we were supposed to go skating this afternoon but i’ve got a migraine, so i have to cancel]

Of all the dates that you had to flake out on. Sungchan had been really excited to take you to the rink during one of their open skate times, to share something he loved with you, and you were looking forward to it too. While you weren’t the best at ice skating, you were going to have the captain of the hockey team with you, so you hadn’t been too terribly concerned about your safety. The way his eyes had lit up when you said yes in the first place. God... you felt awful. In the back of your mind, you knew that you were just going to reschedule but still, it just made your head hurt worse to think about.

Ten minutes later, and he had texted back.

[channie: do you want some company?]

[you: ah, you really don’t have to. i’m sure you’ve got other things you need to do]

[channie: 1. i already cleared out my day for you 2. i want to be there with you and 3. i’m already outside]

You smiled at the harsh, painful light of your phone screen, reading the third bulletpoint over again as you typed your response.

[you: spare key under the fucked up looking gnome]

The door to your bedroom was slowly opened just a few moments later, and you wordlessly rolled over in bed to make room for Sungchan to slip under your blankets with you. You rolled back over practically on top of him and buried your face in his chest, happy to have something else to block out the light aside from your blackout curtains. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your hair. The corners of your mouth quirked up fondly.

“Hey...” You mumbled a greeting.

“Hey,” he murmured. “How bad is it?”

“Not as bad as the one from Halloween,” you reassured him, throwing an arm around his waist. “No lobotomizing or anything. Just... hurts.”

“That’s... good, I guess.”

“You put my key back under the gnome? Or did you bring it in?”

“Put it back. Also why do you have that fucked up looking gnome?”

“I saw him on clearance and he was just so horrible, I had to have him. So now I hide my spare key under him.”

You didn’t know if Sungchan had found your answer satisfactory, or just decided to leave the topic be for your migraine’s sake, but he said nothing more. His arms shifted a bit tighter around you, and you could sense his sour mood without even needing to see his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“What?”

“My Sungchannie…” You said in a hushed, teasing sing-song tone. “You make a terrible cuddle buddy when you’re this tense.” You poked his stomach for emphasis, which was solid as a brick wall. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, sorry.” He readjusted again, and you did feel his muscles relax a little under you. “You’ve got a migraine, you shouldn’t be asking me what’s wrong.”

“Well, we already know what’s wrong with me. So, what’s wrong with you?”

He let out a deep sigh. “It’s weird. When one of the guys gets hurt on the ice, I can see where they’re hurt and either slap a bandage on them myself or take them to someone who can. But when you’re hurting, my girl... I can’t do any of those things. I hate it.”

“Just you being here makes me feel better, Channie.” You squinted one eye open so you could reach a hand up to gently stroke his cheek. “I promise.”

“If you say so.”

Despite his melancholy words, he turned his head quickly to give a fleeting smooch to the tip of your thumb before you dropped it back down to lay the hand flat on his chest.

“And... ‘your girl?’” You asked slyly, wishing that there wasn’t a thick hoodie between his bare chest and your hand in that moment, as you were sure you would’ve been able to feel his heartbeat jump under your fingertips.

His eyes widened minutely as his head tilted in confusion. “Are-Are you not?”

“No, I am. Definitely.” You contentedly squished your cheek against his front.

“And I’m your guy. Right?”

“As if that could even be a question,” you giggled, the words punctuated by a yawn. “Yes.”

“Good,” he breathed out in relief, and you finally felt him truly relax underneath you. “Uhm, I’m keeping you up, sorry. You should go to sleep.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “My sleepy girl.”

“Mm, okay. Goodnight,” you mumbled, rolling over in his arms and letting your thoughts fully drift away.

“Love you...”

Sungchan continued staring down at you as your breathing evened out. The words seemed to have come out of your mouth as naturally as your breaths, and he fought back the urge to shake you awake again so he could say them back to you. Instead, he brushed your hair away from your face, planting a couple gentle kisses on your temple before scooting into his spot as big spoon for today and settling in for the duration of your sleep.

“I love you too,” he murmured into the crook of your neck, letting his own eyes close as he replayed the memory of you saying it first.

You woke up not even knowing your own name.

After taking a few seconds to properly come to and get reoriented from your migraine nap, you turned to your other side, immediately greeted by Jung Sungchan with such a tender look on his face that you had the breath knocked out of you.

Finally, you coughed out, “Hi...”

“Hey,” he smiled softly. “Sleep good?”

“Mhm... What time is it? How long did I sleep?”

“A few hours, it’s almost eight.”

“Cool, there goes my non-existent sleep schedule.”

He laughed quietly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. I mean, blegh, but no migraine. Just... eugh.”

“The way you classify feeling good and bad fascinates me,” he commented.

You shuffled onto your back, staring up at your ceiling. “It’s all relative. One of my good days looks different from another chronically ill person’s good days. Same with my bad days. And no two abled people’s good and bad days look the same either. I mean, before I had migraines, I wasn’t out there being a hockey superstar like you. So yeah, right now I feel blegh and eugh, but in comparison to before my nap, that’s pretty good.”

“Huh.” Sungchan flopped onto his back too. “I mean, I guess I kind of knew that but... never really thought it through like that.”

“It’s a working theory,” you shrugged. “I’ve only been like this for... a little less than four years? And I’ll have these for, you know, the rest of my life. So, I’ll continue to refine it as time goes on.”

“Oh. Huh.”

“What?”

“You’re really going to have migraines for the rest of your life?”

“Yeah. Unless some miracle cure is discovered in my lifetime. It’s a lifelong condition.”

“That’s… damn.”

You let out a chuckle. “It took a while for it to sink in for me, too. When my neurologist mentioned it at my first appointment, it was like, whatever, but now four years later… yeah, it’s really starting to sink in that this is my life.”

“Woah…”

“Anyway, I’m sorry again about ice skating. I know you were really excited for it.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll go another day,” he promised. “Thank you for letting me be here, with you.”

You pushed yourself up to sit cross-legged, and put your hand over his that he’d been resting on his chest. “Thank you for coming, Sungchan.”

His face scrunched up. “What’s with calling me that? Am I in trouble?”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys…”

“One of what guys?”

“As soon as they get a nickname or a term of endearment they won’t answer to their government name anymore.”

“It’s not that, it’s just… it feels like I’m in trouble. Like, am I not your Sungchannie anymore? Am I not baby or baby boy to you anymore? I’m no longer Channie?”

“You’re not in trouble,” you told him, slotting your fingers with his. “But… as a literary student, I understand the importance of diction and the symbolism of names.”

“Yeah, exactly.” He nodded firmly.

You snickered, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Thank you for being here with me, my Sungchannie.”

He caught the back of your head with his other hand before you could sit up all the way, guiding your lips down to his. It was a sweet, lingering kiss, which neither of you moved to deepen nor rush. When his hand fell from your hair, you straightened back up, smiling down at him fondly.

“Well, are you ready for dinner?” You asked. “I was thinking frozen pizza and very quiet movies. Unless you can’t stay the night.”

“No, I can stay.” He nodded, propping himself up on his elbows. “That sounds great. Whatever you want.”

“Perfect.”

You climbed out of bed, taking a second to get to your feet before heading for your bedroom door. Sungchan was still under the covers, though, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. You stopped at the threshold of the door, turning around to look at him.

“Channie?”

“Hm?”

“By the way…” You paused, letting silence descend for a couple seconds as he patiently waited for you to finish. “I love you.”

You immediately darted away towards your kitchen, laughing as you heard him scrambling to get out of bed and chase after you.

“Hey, come back!” He cried out, and you swore you heard the thud of an elbow or a knee bumping into a piece of furniture or a doorframe. “I need to say it back to you! Baby!”

You couldn’t run very far, sliding across your kitchen tile on your socks before skidding to a stop in front of your fridge. Sungchan came barreling around the corner right after you, wild-eyed, clutching his elbow and out of breath.

“No fair…” he whined. “You got a head start and I hit my funny bone on your door.”

“Your legs are like twice as long as mine!” You pointed out. “I think that’s just equity.”

“And my funny bone?”

“I’m sorry about your funny bone, baby boy. Want me to kiss it better?”

“In a second.”

“Alright,” you giggled, waiting patiently for him to finish his point.

“You know what’s not equitable?” He asked with his hands on his hips, slowly advancing towards you.

“Aside from you busting your funny bone on my door?”

He’d gotten you in arm’s reach, seizing you by the waist to pull you into his chest again. “You saying it to me twice now without giving me an opportunity to say it back.”

You laughed and wriggled around in his grasp as he held steadfast to you.

“So not fair!” Sungchan complained teasingly, showering your forehead, nose, and cheeks in kisses.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re not an athlete, you don’t play fair,” he chastised you. “Being so unbelievably cute while I’m trying to prove a point here.”

With another loud smooch to the top of your head, Sungchan let you go, removing you from him and holding you at arm’s length by the shoulders. You raised your eyebrows as you eyed the several kitchen tiles of space between the two of you.

“Very romantic, Channie.”

“Ahh, well I can’t think when you’re so close to me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. However you need to.”

“No, you’re right, come back here.” He pulled you flush to his front again, cupping your cheeks to tilt your face up to look at him.

You looped your arms around his waist, offering him a sweet smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he echoed, stroking his thumbs over your cheekbones. Sungchan looked over your features fondly, his lips twitching as he was clearly trying and failing to suppress a giddy grin. “I love you. I love you. And, I love you.”

You chuckled at him having to say it the third time, as your whole body buzzed with joy. Yeah, your insides were never going to un-mush at this rate. They’d been long gone since your first date.

“I love you too, my Sungchannie.” You gave him a gentle kiss, feeling him smile against your lips.

iii. i hear the secret whisperings of the world in the curves of all your bursts of laughter

Sitting in a stadium seat at the ice rink one afternoon, you watched the team’s practice as you waited for your boyfriend. Well, half-watching the practice. Now that the semester was over, you wanted to catch up on your personal reading list with the free time.

A sudden bang on the barrier in front of you made you startle and look up from your book. It surprisingly wasn’t Sungchan, but two other players—23 and 24.

You slowly waved at Jeno and Yangyang before turning your eyes back down to your reading. That just started up more fervent banging on the plastic and indistinct shouting from them.

“Oh my God! What?” You yelled back, tucking your bookmark into the pages.

Their words were indistinguishable though, because of the barrier, distance, and the fact that they were talking over each other.

“Hold on!” You huffed. Standing up and picking your way down through the rows until you were directly in front of them, you asked, “Okay, what? One at a time.”

“Are you coming to movie night tonight—” Jeno started.

“—at the Puck Pad?” Yangyang finished.

Your brow furrowed as you stared at their shining eyes as if they had just said a normal thing to you. “I’m sorry, the what?”

“Movie night?” Jeno repeated.

“You seriously think that’s what I’m confused about? I know what a fucking movie night is, Jeno,” you rolled your eyes. “What the hell is the ‘Puck Pad?’”

The two of them exchanged a look before Yangyang spoke up, “Where your boyfriend lives? The house that me, Sungchan, Ten, and Sicheng all rent.”

“The team is having a movie night there tonight!” Jeno reiterated. “We were just wondering if you were coming too.”

You blinked at them. “I’ve never heard Sungchan, Sicheng, nor Ten call the house that. Are you sure it’s not just you, Yangyang?”

Yangyang ignored your question with one of his own, “Are you coming?”

“Yeah, Sungchan mentioned some movies at his place tonight. I’ll be there.”

“Awesome!” They said in unison.

“So… the Puck Pad?” You asked abruptly as Sungchan came out of the locker room, your arms crossed and head tilted.

His elated smile dropped off his face as a bewildered look of confusion took over, and his arms fell down to his sides from where he’d been holding them out for a hug. “What…? Who told you about that?”

“So you do call your house that?”

“Look, we joked about that like once or twice when we moved in last year. It’s not like there’s a sign up or anything.”

“And you didn’t want to tell me about this because…?”

“It’s lame and makes us sound like a bunch of losers.”

“But you are.”

“Unh!” He held a fist over his chest as if he were grabbing some invisible weapon that he’d just been stabbed with. Clutching onto your shoulder with his other hand, he slowly started leaning more and more of his weight onto you as he made more fake noises of pain. “Oof! Oh God… Oh, that hurt, Y/N… My own girl… Ugh… Agh…”

Giggling, you had to change your stance to keep the both of you up as he was fully slumped against you. You let out a grunt of exertion as you readjusted to push on his chest and prop him back up into a somewhat standing position.

“Channie, get up!” You complained as he just flopped back over on you, bringing another bout of laughter from you as you struggled to keep the both of you up. “Channie! Seriously, you’re such a baby! Just a big loser baby!”

“Yeah, but I’m your big loser baby, right?” He teased, supporting just enough of his weight to be able to look you in the face as he pouted at you pointedly.

You pinched his bottom lip just a bit meanly. “Yeah, and you’d better not forget it. Now can we go? You do know that the team has been staring like the whole time waiting for us, right?”

The guys were all crowded up by the automatic doors in a huddle, in various stages of pretending not to watch and very obviously looking and snickering among themselves. Donghyuck and Yangyang were in the latter, the two underclassmen feeling rather brave tonight as Yangyang yelled out first.

“Come on, loser baby! We’re waiting!”

“Yang, it was big loser baby, actually,” Donghyuck corrected him facetiously.

“Right, of course,” Yangyang nodded seriously. “Come on, you big, stinking, whining loser baby!”

Sungchan straightened up, all humor drained from his features as he snapped his fingers and pointed at them. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Are you ready to go, Channie?” Jeno joined in.

“Don’t fucking call me that!” The captain shot back, grabbing your hand as he started leading the way over.

“Seriously, guys,” you spoke up once you had joined the pack of hockey players heading out of the rink. “Don’t call him Channie, please.”

Sungchan’s house—The Puck Pad—was a close enough walk that on nights like this, where the team would hold movie nights or other team events after hockey practice, the players would all leave their cars at the house beforehand and walk over. So you all had a roughly twenty-minute walk back there now, a gaggle of hockey players, their practice bags, a couple gear bags, and you.

“Why not?” Donghyuck fake-whined.

“Well for one, he asked you not to. That should be enough,” you retorted. “And two, that’s my nickname for him. Come up with your own instead of stealing mine.”

“Since you asked so nicely, okay.”

“Thanks, Hyuck.”

A phone alarm suddenly went off just a moment later, and you calmly turned it off from your watch before rummaging through the tote bag on your shoulder.

“Evening?” Sungchan asked knowingly, watching as you tipped out one pill after another into your palm, then grabbed your water bottle.

“Mhm.” You confirmed before knocking them back in several rounds. The two of you were thankfully towards the back of the group, so they didn’t notice when you had to stop and start every time you had difficulty swallowing your sips of water.

When you closed up your tote bag, took his hand in yours, and continued down the sidewalk at a brisk pace intent on catching up with the others, a frown cut across Sungchan’s face. “Aren’t you supposed to take those with food?”

“Forgot to restock the go bag with snacks yesterday. I’ll live taking one dose without it,” you shrugged. “Besides, we’re going to be at your place soon anyway, I’ll eat there.”

Sungchan reached into his practice bag, fishing out a slightly misshapen protein bar, “Here. Sorry, it got a little crushed.”

“Oh, you don’t—”

He tore open the wrapper with his teeth, then pushed it into your hand that wasn’t holding his. “Y/N, eat it.”

“Alright. Thank you.”

At The Puck Pad—which you were learning, it turns out, the entire team calls the house when nobody else is around—you ended up being pretty glad for the protein bar Sungchan had given you on your way over. You only ate half of it before you got to the house, but the guys were so disorganized that it wasn’t until almost two hours after you’d arrived that everybody was finally settled in the living room with popcorn, candy, pizza, beer (soda and water for you), and a movie playing on the TV.

You and Sungchan had a plush, reclining armchair to yourselves, tucked cozily under a blanket. Sungchan had an arm around your waist holding you close to him as the other moved between his plate that was balanced on the armrest with a stack of pizza slices, and the small end table where your drinks sat. You were happily curled up into his side, head resting in the crook between his shoulder and his chest, and your legs in his lap as you propped your own plate up on your knees to eat from.

The guys had picked a horror movie first—one without jumpscares, as both you and Mark hated them. Blood, gore, body horror, or psychological thriller didn’t faze you, but under no circumstances could you handle jumpscares. Mark, on the other hand, didn’t care for horror movies in general and would only tolerate them if everybody else wanted to watch it. His hard line was jumpscares, though, which you two could agree on. So everybody had checked over multiple websites to be sure that this specific movie definitely didn’t have any jumpscares. Just lots of blood, as you were now finding out.

“Gross, dude…” Mark muttered under his breath from the couch. When you looked over at him, you could see his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at the screen with a curled lip of disgust.

“Ugh, he had all those frogs inside him?” Yangyang pretended to gag, not looking away from the screen for a second.

“Good thing Hendery already went home for the holidays, huh?” Ten laughed, tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth from where his head was pillowed in Sicheng’s lap.

Chenle, who had also been invited, snorted with amusement. “Hendery would be climbing the fuckin’ walls right now.”

“I’m with Mark, this is fucking nasty.” You shook your head, turning to bury your face in Sungchan’s chest. “Let me know when there’s no more frogs doing gross stuff to people’s internal organs.”

“You can pick next, baby. Promise.” Sungchan wrapped two arms around you. He leaned in even closer to you to whisper, “Please pick something not scary.”

Once the horror movie was over, you proudly picked a Christmas rom-com, making sure to get one that had the perfect balance of a low critics’ score and high audience score on Rotten Tomatoes, was at least as old as you, had a low budget, and starred two famous actors that hadn’t gotten their big break as of filming.

When Jeno tried to grumble, you merely stuck your tongue out at him. “‘Tis the fucking season, Jeno!”

“Oh, fuck yeah! Christmas movie!” Yangyang cheered through a mouthful of pizza, walking back into the living room with a newly filled plate of slices. “Jeno, did we already have this one on our list?”

“List?” You asked with facetious innocence.

“Jeno and I marathon shitty Hallmark Christmas movies every year when we go to his parents’ place on break,” the junior explained, plopping down into his spot next to his friend. “He keeps the list in the notes on his phone, so I wanted to make sure he checked it off if we had it on there.”

While your immediate instinct had been to tease Jeno like the other guys were doing, something Yangyang said caught your attention instead.

“Wait, Yangyang, you go to Jeno’s parents’ place on break? You don’t go home?”

“My parents don’t live here. I’m originally from here, but we moved abroad when I was a kid. They still live there. The holiday break we get for hockey is too short to make it all the way out there.” He shrugged, taking another huge bite of pizza. “Jeno’s family is super cool. His mom about lost it when she heard that I’d be staying at school for the holidays my freshman year, insisted Jeno bring me home. So I go every year now.”

“And you two binge Hallmark movies together,” Chenle cooed, pinching their cheeks in unison. “The bestest of fwiends.”

Jeno shook his head and rolled his eyes, but there was no denying the bright grin on his face when Yangyang talked about staying with his family, or when he snuck his phone out to open the notes app and covertly check something off on a list that you couldn’t quite read from the other side of the room.

The movie ended up being actually a really good laugh. Both intentionally and unintentionally. Some of the jokes still held up after all these years, which surprised you, and also, the movie was just funny bad sometimes, which was even better. You found your cheeks hurting from how much you were laughing by the end of it, and surrounded by similar smiles on your friends’ faces. Which made it all the more enjoyable. The ending was the perfect amount of cheesy, sweet, funny, and satisfying, and felt like the perfect way to finish off your own night.

As the credits started rolling, still with a smile lingering on your lips, you turned to Sungchan, only to find him already gazing fondly at you.

“Oh. Hi…” You squeaked softly, completely caught off guard.

“Hi, baby,” he murmured back. “Good pick, by the way.”

“Not too scary, I hope.”

“Well, I had my girl there to protect me from that terrifying small-town baker and the down on his luck yet equally terrifying single dad, you know.”

The rest of the guys were having a debate about the next movie to watch—Pride and Prejudice (2005), Donghyuck’s idea vs. The Amazing Spider-Man (yes, Andrew Garfield), Mark’s idea. A debate that was expeditiously devolving into a very loud argument, so you weren’t particularly worried about them hearing the quiet, playful conversation that you and your boyfriend were having in the couple of inches of space between your heads.

“Always happy to protect my guy from the horrors of cheesy rom-coms,” you quipped back. “Anyway, I think I’m about done. Unless you want to watch whatever they end up picking?”

Sungchan shook his head minutely. “Apparently Hyuck’s been watching that movie like every day since this girl in his Brit Lit class rejected him like two weeks ago—”

“You need a better fucking coping mechanism than Keira Knightly, dude!” Mark’s exasperated voice rang through the living room.

“Would you rather I take up heroin, then?” Donghyuck screeched back.

“No! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” The frat president groaned. “I meant like Tinder or something!”

“Oh, really great advice from my Big here! I should go get myself an STD or 7 because he doesn’t want to watch one movie with me!”

“It’s not one movie, this is the fifteenth time this month, Hyuck! And you know we have condoms in the house, man! Use them!”

“And that’s our cue,” Sungchan declared only to you, nudging you towards the front of the armchair.

You scooted off his lap, getting to your feet and stretching as your boyfriend spoke over the still-bickering Nu Chi brothers. “Alright guys, we’re done for the night. See you.”

A couple of the spectators gave you two ‘goodnight’s, but everyone else was still locked into Mark and Donghyuck squabbling match as the Little was now fake-sobbing into Sicheng’s arms about how his Big couldn’t care less about him and his safety and maybe he should go get every single sexually transmitted disease if it’ll make Mark’s life easier. Mark turned towards the closest wall and started banging his forehead against it as you and Sungchan headed up the stairs.

The Puck Pad was three floors and an attic. All of the shared family spaces were on the first floor: the kitchen, living room, dining room, laundry room, and a half bathroom; the second floor had two bedrooms and one bathroom, currently inhabited by Ten and Sicheng; and the third floor had two* more bedrooms and one and a half more bathrooms, occupied by Yangyang and Sungchan. Being the captain, when divvying up the rooms, the other three just kind of shrugged and gave Sungchan what was technically the master bedroom. It was at the end of the hallway, and while it wasn’t that much bigger than the rest of the bedrooms, it was the only one with an en suite bathroom. You would hesitantly call this a four bedroom house, as you were pretty sure that Yangyang’s room wasn’t actually supposed to be a bedroom. At least not when the house was built. The layout of the bathrooms had been your first clue, with there being just a half bath for him to use—he had to either go down one floor to use Ten and Sicheng’s shower or into Sungchan’s bedroom to use his shower—and the fact that the doors (yes, doors, plural, he had two doors to his very normal-sized bedroom, one of which was the actual entrance and exit from the hallway and the other, which was in an interior wall, could not be opened, despite having a handle and hinges) looked like they had been added decades after the frames had been built. You were stumped as to what the room could’ve originally been, but you were confident that it wasn’t a bedroom, at least. It was something that puzzled and mystified you every time you came over.

Donghyuck and Mark were either done with their spat, or the sounds of it couldn’t carry at the way up here. Either way, you were going to be well onto your way to dreamland soon as you settled down for the night with Sungchan, having done your nighttime routine, changed into your pajamas, and gleefully climbed under the covers.

“Are the other guys staying the night?” You asked Sungchan as he readjusted his pillow next to you to get comfy.

“Don’t know,” he said. “Usually they will if they drink a bit too much, or if they just don’t feel like going all the way home then having to come back this way for Saturday morning practice.”

You made a noncommittal noise, still ruminating over your half-idea in your own mind as you laid there with your eyes shut. The mattress and the sheets shifted beside you as Sungchan curled up behind you, resting a hand on your waist.

“Why are you asking?” He questioned curiously.

“Hyuck…” You sighed, placing your hand over his and slotting your fingers together. “Worried about him, is all.”

“It was some girl in his class that he’d talked to like once in the whole semester. He’ll be okay. Donghyuck’s just got to get the dramatics out of his system first.”

“Even so… Even if he’s just a bit bummed or whatever… Isn’t that what friends are for? To make you feel better when you’re bummed out?” You mused.

“Yeah, I guess so. That’s what Mark’s been trying to do, and he just ended up watching Pride and Prejudice fourteen times.”

You let out a soft burst of air, a quiet chuckle, at that. “Taking one—or, fifteen—for the team.”

Sungchan’s chest shook with a couple silent laughs.

“But really— Can you bring him back here after morning practice tomorrow? I want to take him out. Get his mind off it.”

“Yeah, sure. We can do something.”

“Ah, Channie, I was kind of thinking just me and Hyuck.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you guys pick on him.”

“He picks on us!”

“Baby?”

“Alright, alright,” he relented. “I’ll bring Donghyuck back after practice tomorrow for your little friend date.”

You turned your head to be able to press a fleeting peck to the tip of his nose. “Thank you, baby.”

“But I’m making you breakfast. You two will have to figure out something else.”

In the morning, you were faintly aware of an alarm going off early before it was quickly shut off and you rolled over in bed, burying your face in your pillow. Beyond your eyelids, it was still absolute darkness. You could feel the shifting of the mattress beside you and the press of a gentle kiss to your temple as you quickly sank under the calm waters of sleep once more.

You were half-awoken again some time later, a faint light streaming into your consciousness as the covers shifted once again, and a presence enveloped you from behind that hadn’t been there before. Letting out a peaceful sigh, you listened to the sounds of yours and Sungchan’s breathing as they eventually synced up, and you drifted back off without even realizing it.

Fluttering your eyes open, you groaned softly against the bright morning sunlight. After a couple seconds of squinting and blinking, your eyes had adjusted for the most part, and you rolled onto your other side. Sungchan smiled at you fondly as you rubbed at one of your eyes.

“You awake?” He asked quietly.

“Yep, ‘m up,” you offered a bleary thumbs up. “Just don’t make me solve any differential equations or whatever the fuck. Actually, don’t make me do that when I’m at full capacity either.”

He laughed softly, cradling the back of your head to pull you forward and press a kiss to your forehead. “Good morning, baby.”

“Mornin’ Channie,” you said back, punctuated by a yawn. “How was practice?”

“It was good. Donghyuck’s playing video games in the living room with Yangyang, by the way.”

“Good, good.”

“I think that was our smoothest Saturday morning yet. Were you able to go back to sleep okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I don’t even remember waking up at all, really.”

“Success,” he grinned.

You momentarily closed your eyes again, enjoying the peaceful moment as you let your body slowly work towards fully waking up. Sungchan gently stroked the backs of his fingers up and down your arm, and you relaxed even further under his touch.

“I like waking up next to you,” he admitted softly. You squinted one eye back open to look at him as he continued. “Doing it twice in one morning… I think that’s the most I’ve ever loved somebody.”

Shooting up just to push him back against the mattress, you held him there by the shoulders, your grip so tight it probably would’ve hurt if he wasn’t already used to much worse on the ice. He looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Are you trying to kill me, Jung Sungchan?” You accused. “Saying stuff like that to me first thing in the morning, I could melt into a puddle and never re-form! My heart could explode!”

“You don’t think my heart feels like it’s going to explode when I wake up and see you next to me first thing in the morning?” He huffed back. “That just sounds like equity, baby.”

“You don’t know the meaning of that word.”

“Maybe so…”

With a final shake of your head, you let go of him and fell onto your back next to him. He propped himself up on an elbow on his side so he could see you, the beginnings of a pout on his face.

“And what’s that pout for?” You teased, already with a sneaking suspicion.

“Oh, nothing…” He picked up one of your hands, dropping a line of kisses to the back of it and up your wrist and lower arm.

“Okay,” you played along with a smile on your face. “Because I was just thinking that I’ve been awake for a whole five minutes with no good morning kiss. But if it’s nothing, then—”

You couldn’t even finish your sarcastic dramatics before Sungchan had captured your lips with his in a sweet but intense kiss that pressed your head back into the pillow just a little bit. Curling your fingers in the hair at the back of his head and grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt with your other hand, you pulled him even closer, wanting to just be able to melt into each other completely like it felt like your mouths were doing.

Another alarm suddenly went off in the bedroom, different from the one that had gone off in the wee hours of the morning, and you broke the kiss for just a second to snooze it on your smart watch.

“Oh! Your meds.” Sungchan immediately looked over towards his dresser where your go bag was sitting safely.

“I snoozed it; I’ll take them in a few minutes,” you reassured him, grabbing his face to pull his lips back to yours.

He indulged you for a few seconds until you reached a natural break for air, where he instead pecked your cheek before sitting back on his feet. “I’ll grab them for you, I don’t mind.”

With that, he clambered off the bed and over towards the dresser.

It was impossible to get mad at him though as he so eagerly went to help. You were instead filled with such an overwhelming fondness and joy, unable to do much but smile tenderly at him. “Oh, Channie… thank you.”

“Morning, morning, morning,” he muttered to himself as he rooted through your tote bag to pull out the various pill bottles. “That’s… half of this one, one of these, and… one of this? Oh, and you just added this one, too. And your blood pressure cuff.”

“A-plus, Nurse Jung.” You beamed up at him as you sat up in bed, getting in the correct position to take your vitals with the cuff.

He came over to you, dropping your meds in your waiting palm. You looked over the colorful pills momentarily, pleased to see that he’d gotten it exactly correct. After taking them with your water that was on his nightstand, you held out your hand for him to give you your cuff. But instead, he undid the Velcro and went to loop it around your wrist himself, brows furrowing as he concentrated on the task at hand.

“How’s that?” He asked once he had it secured.

“It’s a little too close to my hand, actually, but good first try.” You undid the band, scooting it to the proper position. “It should be a little further above my wrist bone.”

“Okay. Got it.”

The two of you were silent as you waited for your cuff to take your blood pressure and heartrate, the only sounds that of your breathing and the usual ones of the device in operation. After the final beep and deflation, you brought your wrist down from your chest to look at the screen.

“Is that good?” Sungchan asked, focused on the results as well.

“Well these are my pre-dose numbers. And they’re actually a little lower than normal,” you explained, typing them into your health record on your phone with your free hand. “Only by 10 points, but that means that depending on the post-dose I’ll probably just have to keep a closer eye on my numbers today.”

“So now we set a timer for 30 minutes.”

“Yep,” you did so with just a couple more taps on your phone. “And in the meantime, you make me breakfast like you promised.”

“On it.” He smooched your temple, his hands tentatively reaching towards your wrist. “Can I take your blood pressure cuff off you now?”

“Of course.”

He gently peeled off the strap with a rip of the Velcro, standing back up to put it away in its case. Holding the cuff in its hard carrying case in one hand, he offered his other out to you, and you gladly took it, getting it to your feet.

“Hold on a sec…” You muttered, squeezing your eyes shut as you got light-headed for a moment, bright lights flashing in your vision.

“I got you, baby,�� Sungchan murmured, pressing his arm to yours and grabbing your other shoulder with his hand—he must have set your cuff down or put it in his pocket.

Once you felt stable on your own two feet again, which took just a few seconds, you blinked a couple times, then smiled up at him. “Okay, ready.”

Downstairs, you could hear video game sounds as you emerged into the kitchen, accompanied by the muffled shouting of three voices. Yangyang, Donghyuck, and that last one had to be Ten, it wasn’t nearly deep enough to be Sicheng. You sat up in the corner of their kitchen counter to watch Sungchan as he cooked, occasionally in the way, but he never asked you to move, and you never offered. It was a simple breakfast, but nothing could beat the proud, happy grin on his face as he held your plate out to you.

“It looks great,” you told him, patting his cheek. “Thank you, Channie.”

“Anything for my girl,” he replied, absolutely beaming as he leaned in to give you a soft kiss. You could feel the curl of his smile against your lips.

The two of you had just taken your first bites sat at the kitchen table when Yangyang and Donghyuck wandered in.

“Something smells good,” Yangyang announced, his eyes immediately landing on your food.

You protectively pulled your plate closer to yourself.

“There’s plenty left in the fridge to make your own,” Sungchan replied, pointing towards the kitchen.

Donghyuck plopped down in the seat directly next to the one that you and your boyfriend were jointly occupying—you were on Sungchan’s lap. The sophomore stared longingly at your breakfast.

“Didn’t you guys already eat?” You asked. “You had morning practice.”

“That was forever ago.”

“You’re not stealing my girlfriend’s food, you ungrateful little shits,” the captain glared at the both of them. “Go make your own if you’re so hungry.”

“First Mark wants me to get chlamydia, now you want me to starve,” Donghyuck bemoaned. “Will I ever have a good role model in my life?”

Sungchan fixed you with a pointed look, but you could only giggle at your friend’s dramatics.

“Daddy issues much, Hyuck?” You ruffled his hair, earning loud cackles from Yangyang, and distant laughter from Ten.

Donghyuck stared at you with a dropped jaw as you heard a couple dumbfounded sputters from Sungchan behind you. The younger player recovered quickly, though.

“What gave it away? My unhealthy attachment to older male friends that I see as reliable, or my ‘I Heart DILFs’ shirt?” He retorted sarcastically.

“You do wear that shirt a lot,” you jested back easily. He owned no such shirt to your knowledge.

“And here I thought I was being subtle.” He clicked his tongue in feigned disappointment.

“As a trainwreck,” you nodded. “You and Yang either go get your own food or shut the fuck up, okay?”

Donghyuck stood up from his chair, giving you an overzealous salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

Yangyang went to follow his friend with a shake of his head. “Mommy issues much, bro?”

You couldn’t contain your laughs, tucking your face back into the crook of Sungchan’s neck to muffle them just a little bit. He wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you even closer to him. You kept laughing, even as he gently brushed his lips over the crinkles at the corner of your eye.

iv. because life is beautiful but life is work, so full of joy, so full of hurt

“So tell me about her,” you prompted Donghyuck as soon as the front door shut behind you two.

“What?”

“The girl that you like. Tell me about her.”

“Sungchan said you wanted to take me out to get my mind off it.” He regarded you suspiciously. “And everyone else is telling me I should just move on, stop moping and thinking about her all the time. Don’t know how talking about her more is really going to help that.”

“I heard that she was in one of your classes this semester and you two talked once. But if you’re this broken up about her… sounds like there’s more going on,” you shrugged. “If you want to tell me, I’m all ears. I know you feel like you have to ham it up for the guys all the time, make them laugh and stuff. But you don’t have to do that for me, okay? You don’t owe me entertainment in exchange for tolerating your presence or something. I’m hanging out with you right now because I want to.”

“I talked to her twice, actually. Not counting when she rejected me,” he began abruptly. “We were in the same Brit Lit class this semester, she sat in the seat in front of me. On the first day of class, she turned around to hand me the syllabus and accidentally bumped my water bottle. She smiled, apologized, and handed me the stack of papers and that was that. It’s so not me but I just, I couldn’t talk to her. It’s not just that she’s pretty—I mean she is, like the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen—but she’s so smart too. Whenever she’d answer one of the professor’s questions, she’d say something about the story that I would’ve never thought of in a million years. And like, the professor would be impressed too! But every single time I tried to hype myself up to say something, literally anything to her, I’d end up panicking and not doing it.”

“What was the other time? You said you talked to her twice, outside of when you asked her out. What was the other time, after the syllabus?”

He grimaced. “Ugh, right. I was walking across campus from the library to the parking garage one day. I was supposed to be meeting up with Mark at his car to hitch a ride back to the house. I had one of my sticks with me because I was taking it home to retape it, just sort of slung over my shoulders while I waited at the crosswalk. And it was dark, and I heard something behind me, whipped around to look, and ended up knocking her right in the eye with the butt of the stick.”

“Oh no,” you hissed sympathetically.

“I kept apologizing, but since I didn’t have my gear bag on me, just my bookbag and weapon, I didn’t have anything to patch her up with. She had some tissues in her bag thankfully… but I felt so horrible.”

“Aw, Hyuck, it was an accident. I’m sure she knows that.”

“And I felt even more horrible when I saw her in class a couple days later with that same eye black and blue.”

“Ouch…”

“And then on the last day of class, I caught up with her in the hall after turning in our finals, and I finally did it. I finally asked her out. And she said no.”

You let out a forlorn sigh, looping your arm with your friend’s. “I’m sorry, Hyuck. If it makes you feel any better, I think she’s missing out on a really great, sweet guy.”

“That doesn’t really help, but thanks, I guess.”

“I think it’s good to go ahead and be sad for a little bit, if that’s what you’re feeling.”

He let out a cynical chuckle. “I think my sadness is a bit of an inconvenience for the guys.”

“That’s not true,” you reassured him. “They’re just worried about you. You’re usually this big, unstoppable ball of sunshine. It’s like when one of you gets hurt on the ice, right? One of your teammates will slap a bandage where it hurts and you’ll keep playing. They don’t get why the bandages aren’t enough this time.”

“I don’t know if ‘ball of sunshine’ is a phrase that any of them of would use to describe me.” The corner of his lips twitched. “But thank you, Y/N. I didn’t really know what to expect when Sungchan told me that you wanted to hang out with me 1-on-1 today, considering you don’t really know me like you know some of the other guys. Like, I don’t think we’ve even been alone in a room together before, you know?”

“Huh. Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“Now I get it, though.”

“Get what?”

“Why everyone thinks you and Sungchan are gonna get married.”

“What?”

“Not like, now, but that you guys are going to, you know, make it, or whatever. Soulmates or something.”

You quirked up an eyebrow at the underclassman. “You believe in soulmates, Hyuck?”

“Yeah, I think I do. And I’m only telling you this because I don’t think you’ll call it stupid.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid. I think it’s sweet,” you reassured him, patting his shoulder. “A jock with a romantic streak, very swoon-worthy.”

“That how Sungchan got you?” He teased, elbowing you in the side lightly.

“Something like that.”

“Hmph.”

“This isn’t the end for you,” you said knowingly.

“I know, I know. Just feels like it.”

“I get it. Next time you want to watch Pride and Prejudice fourteen times, you can call me up, okay? Give Mark a break.”

“Careful, I might take you up on that.”

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t serious. But for now, arcade?”

His eyes lit up at you finally revealing where the two of you were going. “Oh hell yeah! I’m so going to annihilate you at air hockey!”

“Don’t count on it,” you warned. “Sungchan’s taught me a few things.”

“Hey, baby, I’m back—” Sungchan skidded to a stop in the threshold of his bedroom, bag of delivery food in hand.

“Hey, Channie,” you smiled up at him as you were sat against his headboard. Donghyuck was curled up on top of the blankets by your legs like a cat, his head in your lap as you gently played with his hair.

“I was gone for like a minute,” your boyfriend gestured to the sophomore with bewilderment. “Does he just have a sixth sense for when you’re alone?”

“I told them they could join us for a movie.”

“Them?”

“Yo, you mind, bro?” Another voice piped up, Yangyang ducking under your boyfriend’s arm to walk in. He flopped across the foot of the bed, partially on Donghyuck’s legs.

“Oh, hey, Sungchan,” Jeno almost sounded surprised to see the captain in his own room as he followed his teammate in, laying down on his front with his arms and head resting on Yangyang’s back, and his feet up by the pillows.

“Well, I didn’t order enough for all of you,” Sungchan sighed, climbing over Jeno to settle into the empty space left beside you. “And no filching off Y/N, Donghyuck. Go downstairs and get your own food if you’re hungry.”

Hyuck tried to protest, “But—”

“Two of you don’t even live here, be grateful I let you eat as much as I do from our fridge, you’re not also getting the dinner that I bought for me and my girlfriend.”

“Fine. I’ll text Mark to bring snacks.”

“Mark, too?!”

Walking back with the guys to the Puck Pad after the last hockey practice of the calendar year, there was an elated buzz in the air now that the athletes were all finally on their own winter break. They were going over their plans for their short break: Jeno and Yangyang were going to Jeno’s parents’ the next day, Ten and Sicheng would both be leaving for their own homes tonight, meanwhile Mark and Donghyuck were both from the area, so they were staying at the Nu Chi house and just meeting up with their families on the holidays.

Realizing that you and Sungchan hadn’t really talked about your holiday plans yet, you peered up at him, about to ask, when suddenly your head started feeling light. You furrowed your brow, trying to blink away the momentary confusion as whatever you were about to say had slipped from your mind. Your head didn’t feel right on your body, but you couldn’t put your finger on what exactly it was.

Sungchan took just one look at you before letting go of your hand to instead grab your upper arm to steady you. His other hand went diving into the pockets of the practice bag in front of you, fervently searching for something.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Jeno, the owner of the bag, whipped around to look at him incredulously.

“Where’s your snacks?” Sungchan was fumbling into another pocket now.

“Ate them already. I’m bulking.”

“Dude, bad idea,” Ten snorted.

“Shut up, Ten!”

Sungchan had started ransacking another teammate’s bag, and successfully pulled out a sports drink this time.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Yangyang protested.

Your boyfriend stopped and sat you on a bench nearby, cracking open the drink. “Y/N, here.”

“Bad idea to what?” You squinted your eyes up between Ten and Jeno curiously.

“Why does she need—” Yangyang was still complaining.

“Jeno’s been talking to Sugar n’ Spice,” Donghyuck answered your question, mischievous glint in his eye.

“Who—” You mumbled, but got cut off by the bottle being pushed against your lips insistently.

“Y/N,” Sungchan’s stern voice refocused you, and you obliged, taking a small sip of the sugary drink.

Ten continued filling you in, “Sugar n’ Spice and Everything Nice. One of Johnny’s old girlfriends.”

Jeno crossed his arms with an indignant huff, “They were not—”

“And who are you really going to believe? Johnny or her?” Donghyuck retorted.

“You didn’t even go here when they—”

“Guys, shut the hell up!” Mark finally snapped at all of them, gesturing to your general unwell demeanor.

“Oh shit dude.” Yangyang’s eyes widened.

“Yeah.”

“Bro, she does not look good,” Jeno stated the obvious.

“She’ll be fine in a minute,” Sungchan replied, holding the bottle back up to your mouth. His voice was firm but gentle as he instructed you, “Y/N, drink some more.”

“Anyway, Jeno, no matter how much you bulk, it’s not going to make up for the inches you’re missing. Height or otherwise,” Donghyuck taunted nonchalantly.

“Lee Donghyuck, I’m going to break your fucking nose, come here!” Jeno lunged for the underclassman, only making him yelp and dart away.

“Don’t—!” Mark’s warning was cut off as Jeno chased Donghyuck down, his voice fading out as he sighed and finished quietly, “...Cause any permanent damage...”

“You okay, Y/N?” Sicheng asked, as you took a couple more small sips.

You nodded. “Just a bit low, uhm, blood sugar. I’ll be okay.”

It always took you a few minutes to realize when you were low on your own, but Sungchan could tell with just one glance at you—it made you wonder what you looked like when you got like this.

Back at the Puck Pad that evening, you had already said your goodbyes to Ten and Sicheng; and Jeno, Donghyuck, and Mark were upstairs in Yangyang’s room allegedly helping him pack. Judging by the video game sounds you could hear from the bottom of the stairs, they had gotten a little distracted. Sungchan and you had settled down in the living room to watch a movie, and with the fog lifted from your mind, you were able to remember what you were going to ask him earlier.

“Hey, Channie?” You picked your head up from his chest to be able to look at him. He was laying on his back across the whole couch, you snuggled in on top of him.

“Hm?” He looked from the TV to you.

“What are your plans?”

“Oh. Well…” He paused the movie, his hands coming to settle on your lower back and sneaking just under the hem of your (his) hoodie to trace spirals into your skin. “Our lease ends after graduation, and Yangyang’s been talking about looking for a place with Jeno, and Ten and Sicheng are probably going to get their own place. I know we haven’t talked about it yet, but every time I try to think what I’m going to do, I just imagine that we would move in together.”

Your dumbfounded silence encouraged him to go on, his voice sounding far away and dreamy.

“Like, I don’t know, being able to wake up next to you everyday, and sleep in on the weekends with you with no practice. Cooking breakfast for you every morning, even just grocery shopping together. It’s all I can think about, really.”

You finally choked out, “I-I meant for the holidays. Like, visiting family, being in town…”

His cheeks started flushing. “Right. Sorry. I’m visiting my family on Christmas Day. What about you?”

“Me too.”

“We should spend Christmas Eve together, then.”

“Yeah, sounds good. New Year’s, too?”

“Of course. Who else would I kiss at midnight?”

A fond smile spread across your lips, and you tilted your head up to give him a peck. “Of course.”

“So, uhm,” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “The other thing I mentioned?”

“What are you doing after graduation? Made a decision about that PhD program?”

“Yep… more school,” he sighed.

“Me, too.” You pulled a blanket up over you two. “I think… Yeah, we can move in together. I’d really like that.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You make me so happy, baby.”

“You could just move in with me? To my apartment?” You suggested as a grin spread across your face. You were getting giddy already imagining it.

Another forehead kiss. “I would love that.”

“You make me really happy too, Channie,” you murmured, your fingertip tracing mindless figure-eights into the front of his shirt.

“I love you so much.” He cradled your face with two hands with a tenderness that made your heart ache to be a part of him in a way that you could never physically attain.

You leaned in to touch your nose to his. “I love you, too.”

Christmas Eve was just a couple days later, and instead of walking in the park amongst the freshly fallen snow, or touring the elaborate lights put up in the rich neighborhood nearby, or baking Christmas cookies while watching cheesy Christmas movies, or any of your other cute Christmas plans with Sungchan, you were bedridden with a migraine. A bad one.

You let out a soft whimper as tears welled up in your eyes, both from the pain and from pure frustration at having something else ruined for you because of these stupid migraines. Ice skating you could reschedule, but you couldn’t take a rain check on your first Christmas (Eve) together.

Sungchan curled his arms around you tighter, a steady pressure across your back. “It’s been two hours,” he murmured as quietly as possible.

“I don’t want my stupid fucking medication that isn’t fucking working,” you practically spat out, the first tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Sungchan pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, careful to avoid your scalp, which currently felt like it was on fire in addition to your usual squeezing and stabbing migraine pain. Side effect from a new rescue medication your neurologist was having you try. Safe to say it wasn’t a winner.

At the distress in his own tone over his usual regrets of seeing you hurting but not being able to help, you finally broke down into open sobs. Clenching your eyes shut tight, you clung to his arms. Your chest shook with every breath as you quietly wailed, burying your face in your pillow. You couldn’t bear to turn around and see the angst on your boyfriend’s features.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “If I could take all your pain away and put it on myself, I would. God, I’m so, so sorry.”

You could hardly talk past the solid, hard lump in your throat, at first letting out a couple more strangled sobs as your tears and spit ruined your pillowcase. When you finally blubbered something out, your voice was distraught and despondent, “Why can I never… never have nice things? Why does it feel like the world is so big and nothing can go right and it all hurts so much… and I’m just so small and my body and my brain are… so broken?”

“I don’t know, baby, I don’t know,” Sungchan replied desperately, fully weeping with you into your shoulder now. “You don’t deserve this. I’m so sorry.”

You eventually fell asleep, but unlike your typical migraine naps, this one didn’t bring any sort of peace to Sungchan’s mind. Usually the naps were a good sign, you would wake up without the migraine and be relatively all better. But you’d never cried yourself to sleep during a migraine before, and having to hold a bawling you in his arms while he couldn’t do anything but apologize for being absolutely useless had left him shaken up. He didn’t think he’d be able to nap with you this time.

Sungchan didn’t dare move, keeping watch over you as you slept as if he could keep anymore pain away. He could still hear the echo of his heart breaking into a million pieces the moment you’d started crying.

Your head still fucking hurt. But this was a different throbbing than before, and was definitely from the heavy crying you’d done earlier. You groaned, covering your eyes and sniffling.

You could hear Sungchan’s breathing next to you, but he didn’t say anything as you rolled over to bury your face in his neck. Letting out a deep sigh, you found that you were dried out, unable to summon more tears. Finally, you spoke, “What time is it?”

God, your throat was dry.

“Six forty-five…” he replied softly.

“Well, Merry Christmas, Channie,” you grumbled.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Do you think it’s too late to go see the Christmas lights?”

You could feel him tense up under you.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to make yourself do anything for me, baby,” he reassured you, rubbing your back.

“I want to…” You insisted. “I just… probably need my earplugs. And sunglasses.”

“Of course, whatever you want.”

“And then we can come back and do eggnog pancakes?” You asked hopefully. The migraine had started right before Sungchan could start cooking this morning, so you weren’t able to enjoy your promised festive breakfast prepared by your boyfriend.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“And then presents.”

“Like I said, anything my girl wants.”

And so Sungchan drove you around in his car with the radio off, your sunglasses on like it wasn’t dusk right then, and earplugs in to drown out the sounds of passing traffic. The two of you were silent through the whole ride, communicating solely by squeezing the other’s hand that was laced with yours over the center console, pointing at any lights and decorations that either of you particularly liked, and smiling and nodding in acknowledgement.

When you got back to your apartment, you took off your sunglasses and earplugs to plop yourself down at your kitchen table while Sungchan once again brought out ingredients. He hummed Christmas carols while he cooked, and you rested your cheek in your hand to watch him fondly as he bustled around.

Your head was still throbbing, and you winced as you pulled your hood up and gathered your knees to your chest. As Sungchan opened the fridge to put the eggnog away, you saw him pull something else out, a familiar box.

“When is your injection?” He asked quietly, holding the container up.

You scrunched your nose as you brought out your phone to check your calendar. “It’s… oh shit, today.”

“I’ll leave it out to warm up.” He set it on the counter before going over to your stove and setting a timer for an hour.

You were supposed to wait at least 30 minutes after the medication left the fridge to inject it, but you liked to wait closer to an hour or two to make sure it had fully come to room temperature, to reduce any injection pain.

The pancakes were ready soon, and Sungchan and you ate them on the couch, the odd bits of conversation floating around between bites.

“So what are you and your family doing tomorrow?” Sungchan rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Oh, dinner’s at my parents’ place. I’ll pop over to Chenle’s family’s Christmas, too. They’re just across the street,” you hummed. “We don’t do a lot, but everyone comes over, so it’ll be a packed house.”

“That’s nice.”

“What about you, Channie? Any Christmas traditions?”

“You’re eating it,” he said proudly. “My dad always makes eggnog pancakes on Christmas morning. Then we go to my grandparents’ house for the day.”

You couldn’t wade through the slop that your mind was covered in to be able to aptly express how you felt about Sungchan sharing one of his family’s Christmas traditions with you, so instead you turned your head to press a long kiss to his cheek, squeezing his forearm appreciatively. He seemed to get the message, and moved his head to be able to kiss you gently.

“I love you, Y/N,” he mumbled against your lips. Then, pulled back just enough to look you in the eye. “I’m so glad we got to spend today together.”

You couldn’t help but bite down on your tongue bitterly at that. “Yeah, I love you too, Channie.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“My stupid migraines ruined our day! Again!” You turned away from him, dropping your face in your hands.

Immediately, one of his large hands rubbed your back while his other came to rest on your knee. “Baby, baby, my day wasn’t ruined.”

“We didn’t get to do anything how we wanted, and all I did was cry and make you cry!” You felt your eyes growing wet again. “And I’m fucking crying again!”

“I really do wish you hadn’t spent all day in pain,” he admitted. “You deserve to have the perfect Christmas Eve like all the cheesy rom-coms you like. But please don’t feel like you ruined my day or anything. I spent the whole day with my girl, which is a perfect day in my book.”

You wiped at your face messily, looking over your shoulder at him. “You really mean that?”

“Of course.”

“Even though I made you cry on Christmas? …Eve?”

“Well, it wouldn’t have been fair for you to be the only one of us who did.”

That finally made you chuckle, and Sungchan gave you a soft smile in return as he pulled you into him. You wrapped your arms around his waist, enjoying his warmth.

“Thank you, my Sungchannie,” you mumbled. “For being the most wonderful boyfriend in the whole universe.”

“The whole universe?” He repeated skeptically.

“Yep. Not even a competition.”

The kitchen timer went off then, and he gave you a final shoulder squeeze and peck to your temple before standing up and heading into the kitchen. He returned with your medication and stupidly large first aid kit. Popping the first aid kit open, he dutifully started pulling out an alcohol wipe, then an antihistamine. Sungchan had been around for your last injection by happenstance, and watched your every move carefully, so you weren’t surprised that he was able to get everything ready now.

“I don’t need that unless I break out,” you tried to point out. You weren’t allergic to the medication, but sometimes you got hives around the injection site within the first day or so just from it making your skin more sensitive.

“Baby, you always break out,” he insisted, presumably remembering when you started reacting less than an hour later last time, and all your stories about other post-injection reactions.

“No, there’s been like… a couple times I haven’t.”

He pointedly set the antihistamine down with the alcohol swab, then held up the bandage options for you to choose from.

“Mm… Sanrio,” you nodded to your newest addition. “I want a Kuromi.”

He fished out a bandaid with a Kuromi pattern on it, setting it aside. You broke the seal on the medication box as Sungchan walked into the kitchen. At the sound of running water, you looked up curiously, watching as he thoroughly washed his hands to the elbow like he was about to scrub in for an operation.

As he sat back down beside you, he held out his hands. “Can I do it?”

You froze, freshly opened box in hand. In the nearly two years that you’d been taking the injectable, you’d always done it yourself. Even your first demonstration dose at your neurologist’s office you’d done on your own to learn how to operate it. It had never occurred to you to ask anybody else to, really. Technically, the directions said you could, but you lived by yourself, had always been alone.

“If you’re okay with it,” Sungchan added after a couple beats of silence. “It’s fine if you want to do it yourself. I get it. You’ve just had a really long day, I want to help.”

“They say someone else can do the back of your arm…” You looked down at the small card of directions that you picked up out of the carton, a diagram highlighting all the possible injection areas. “But I want to be able to see it. So you’ll still have to do my thigh.”

“Okay.” He nodded seriously, accepting the box as you handed it to him.

He took a moment to study the instructions very carefully, and you opened the bandage in preparation. When he set the directions down and picked up the alcohol wipe, you rolled up the leg of your shorts and readjusted in your seat.

“I usually do it here.” You pointed to a spot, and he wiped the cool material over the area thoroughly.

Next, he grabbed the auto-injector from the box, pulling the cap off the end and dropping it back in the carton. You consciously tried to level your breathing as he paused to read the directions one more time. Sungchan pinched your skin and pulled it apart until it was properly taut.

“Do you want a countdown?” He asked.

“No, but hold on, I need to relax my muscle.” You flexed and eased your thigh a couple times, letting out a deep breath. “Okay, good.”

You kept your eyes focused just off to the side of the injection—you’ve never been able to watch needles go in you that you weren’t operating yourself, but you couldn’t fully look away this time. So instead, your gaze was on Sungchan’s forearm, the auto-injector enough in your peripheral that you could tell if something were to go wrong.

He pressed the blunt plastic tip against your skin. As requested, you had no countdown before the near-simultaneous click of the pen and prick of the needle came, followed by the stinging pain of the medication being pumped into you. You let out a slight hiss, already counting in your mind. The built-in indicator that meant the injection was over was displayed on the pen already, but you noticed that Sungchan kept holding it there until you reached your fifteen-count in your head. He had remembered from when he watched you last time, and must have been counting himself. The directions said to leave it in until the indicator showed, about 15 seconds, but you always liked to count to 15 seconds just in case, something you’d mentioned off-handedly last time.

As soon as he took the injector out and tossed it in the box on the table, you watched as a dot of blood and clear fluid—medicine—welled to the surface. Sungchan rushed to pull the bandage out, applying it to the site, catching the drop just in time before it fell down your leg. He gingerly smoothed down the ends, Kuromi smirking back up at you two.

Sungchan took the empty auto-injector into your bedroom, and you heard the telltale sound of it clanking into the plastic sharps disposal bin you kept under the bathroom sink. When he came back, you were already picking up the trash and closing up the first aid kit.

“Don’t forget your antihistamine,” he reminded you, holding out the tablet and your water bottle.

With your hands full, you leaned forward to take a sip from the straw of your bottle, then opened your mouth like a baby bird for him to drop the pill into. You swallowed it with slight difficulty, but he seemed content that you’d taken it, at least.

After everything was cleaned up, you meandered back into the living room, stopping in front of the couch to inspect the injection site with a pout.

“Is everything okay, baby?” Sungchan sat forward, brow furrowed with concern.

“Hurts…” You whined, flopping down next to him. “It didn’t use to burn after like this, but ever since my neuro upped my dose last month… it hurts.”

“Aw, I’m sorry,” he pulled you closer to him with two arms around your waist.

You made a small ‘humph’ sound, habitually poking at the injection site. Ow, dumbass.

“Thank you, baby,” Sungchan mumbled into your neck. “For letting me help you.”

The genuine relief in his voice made you smile to yourself. You knew how cut up he was every time he couldn’t help during your migraines, and at first you didn’t get why he wanted to do your injection this time. After all, this was the same guy who had you come with him to get his blood drawn for his routine drug testing by disguising it as an ice cream date then suddenly remembering that he had to stop by the student health center on the way there (and jumped at your offer to come back with him to hold his hand instead of waiting in the lobby). But in his mind, doing your injection must’ve been the best he could do to help prevent you from hurting again like he’d seen today.

“Why are you the sweetest boy ever?” You whispered, kissing his hair.

Sungchan let out a muffled giggle. “Ever?”

“Ever.”

“Mm, I don’t know,” he hummed playfully. “Think I was born like this.”

“We’ve got to make sure you don’t go out in the rain, or you’ll melt,” you teased.

“I mean what I said the other day, you know. Just didn’t want to scare you… but I really do think this is the most I’ve ever loved someone. I know it hasn’t been that long, and it always feels like I’m rushing stuff with you, but it just always feels right. Everything always feels right all the time with you.”

“I knew what I was getting myself into when you said ‘I love you’ on our second date,” you reminded him, fond smile flitting across your lips.

“I thought we agreed to never talk about that again,” he grumbled.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. But you were so adorable when you tried to pretend like you didn’t.”

“You were wearing my hoodie and had whipped cream on your nose and you were just so… perfect,” he defended himself, trailing off into a dreamy sigh. He smooched your cheek loudly. “Still are.”

You laughed, squirming a little bit at the sudden attack of affection, but not moving away as he peppered more overzealous kisses to your face. You instead cradled his cheek with one of your hands.

When he’d finally stopped to rest his chin on your shoulder again, you responded a bit more seriously to him, “I love you too… a lot. I don’t really have any romantic metric, to be honest. Migraines have sort of made it hard to date… or inconvenient, at least. But you need to know that I really do love and appreciate you so, so much, my Sungchannie.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he nodded just the slightest against you, gently rocking the two of you side-to-side.

You grabbed one of his hands to play with his fingers, slightly calloused from the weightlifting you knew was part of his mandatory hockey conditioning. Hockey season was already halfway over. His last season. You couldn’t imagine Jung Sungchan not playing hockey.

“Channie?”

“My girl?”

“I know we already talked about moving in together after graduation, but… What are you going to do after hockey’s over? I kind of can’t picture you not on the ice.”

You could feel him take a deep breath, and his free hand came to join the fray as it found one of your wrists. Specifically, the one that sported a thick blue and orange paracord bracelet with five plastic alphabet beads on it—2-7-J-S-C—that every hockey player made their freshman year. Sungchan gave you his not too long ago, on your one-month anniversary.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, as if he couldn’t make himself say it any louder. “I’ve tried to think about it too and… I can’t. I’ve been playing since I was a kid. I don’t… really have anything else. Just school, hockey, and you.”

“We’ll find you a hobby or two,” you promised, squeezing his hand. “Maybe you can take piano lessons again.”

He chuckled, letting you gently curl and uncurl his crooked pinky, the one he had broken that made him stop playing in the first place. “I don’t know… I think that might be gone for me.”

“If it’s something you really liked, you should do it,” you insisted. “It would just be for fun. I think it’d be nice, if you found the right teacher.”

“Well…”

“If you want to, Channie. I’m just brainstorming here.”

“Hockey season’s not over yet,” he pointed out. “We can circle back around in the summer.”

“That’s true, that’s true,” you agreed. “You should be savoring every moment right now, not letting me make you prematurely existential. I’m sorry.”

“You’re forward-thinking, baby, I appreciate that.”

“But it’s your last season, you don’t need me reminding you of that all the time.”

“Then why are we still talking about it, hm?” He said, mischievous smile on his face.

“We’re not! We’re not!” You held your hands up in surrender. “It’s present time! I swear!”

Sungchan laughed as he leaned in to press a kiss to your temple.

“Hi, Mr. Zhong!” You were beaming as you walked into Chenle’s house the next day, immediately being wrapped in a bear hug by his dad. “Merry Christmas!”

“Y/N! It’s been too long, too long,” he complained as you went to hug your best friend next, who had also come to greet you.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” Chenle hugged you tightly.

“Merry Christmas, LeLe.”

Letting go of your friend, you turned back to his dad, who was still waiting for a response, his hands on his hips.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Zhong,” you bowed your head in apology. “We just get so busy with school and—”

“Yeah, Y/N’s been really busy with her new boyfriend!” Chenle announced loudly, making sure that every occupant in the whole house could hear him.

“Y/N! You have a boyfriend?!” Mrs. Zhong called from the kitchen.

“Boyfriend?!” Mr. Zhong echoed in shock, his eyes going comically wide.

You were already smacking Chenle on the head and pinching his ear furiously. “Zhong Chenle, you little— I’m going to kill you!”

Chenle jerked out of your grip and ran away, you hot on his heels. He ran right into the kitchen, where his mother and several aunties immediately swarmed you.

“Y/N!” Mrs. Zhong grasped you by the wrist, pulling you over towards the stove where several things were cooking. She grabbed a spoonful of something from a bubbling pot and held it out towards you to try. As you leaned forward to taste it, she asked, “So, who is this boyfriend Chenle is talking about?”

“Is he handsome?” Another woman asked.

“Does he hold the door open for you?”

“What’s his name?”

“Does he know how to cook?”

“Do we know him?”

“Does he have a job?”

“How did you two meet?”

“Show us a picture!”

You choked on the rather delicious spoonful of soup that you’d just taken as you heard Chenle’s cackling laughter in the background. Wiping your mouth, you turned around to shoot him a glare before answering some of their questions.

“His name is Jung Sungchan, he goes to the same college as Chenle and I. We actually all had a class together a few years ago,” you started off slowly.

“Pictures, Y/N!” One of the aunties insisted.

“Yeah, Y/N, show us pictures!” Chenle repeated. “Or I will.”

“I will end you,” you said through gritted teeth as you pulled out your phone. Flicking through your gallery, you found a few that you really liked.

They were from his last home game, and these in particular were taken by Taeyong, as it had been the game against their league rivals, which drew in the graduated Nu Chi brothers and team members. You pulled the first one up, him still in his uniform as you had gone down to congratulate him right on the ice. He was towering over you even more than normal in his skates, an arm around your shoulders as you wrapped both of yours around his waist, the two of you smiling at the camera. As you went to show the picture to everyone, your skin started growing hot with the ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s that sprang up among the women.

“He plays hockey for our school, he’s actually captain.” You grew even more embarrassed as Mrs. Zhong zoomed in on Sungchan’s face.

“Chenle,” she looked up at her son with squinted eyes. “Is this your handsome friend who brought you home when you were drunk?”

“Mom, that was one time three years ago,” he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Chenle,” she said sternly.

“Yes, that’s him.”

Her face broke into a lovely smile. “Oh, I liked him. Very polite.”

“Yeah, I know, Mom. You still talk about it.”

“When was this?” You asked your friend with bewilderment. The two of you did everything together, including getting embarrassingly shitfaced as freshmen. Or, Chenle would get embarrassingly shitfaced and you would watch, thanks to your migraine meds.

“There was a Nu Chi party, after the Halloween one…” Chenle explained, and you appreciated him leaving out the details of the Halloween party in front of all these people. “Long story short, I didn’t realize how strong the punch was. Sungchan gave me a ride home.”

“Very polite, very handsome,” Mrs. Zhong nodded approvingly. She swiped to the next picture for you, this one of Sungchan kissing your cheek as you laughed and grabbed his jersey.

They all tittered and made various comments and approving noises, and you quickly turned your phone off and put it away bashfully.

“So, yeah… that’s him,” you finished awkwardly among their disappointed noises of you taking away the photos.

“I like him.” Chenle’s mom patted your cheek before turning back to the stove. “And if he gives you any trouble, you know Chenle will…”

“Mom did you see him? What do you think I could possibly do?” Chenle retorted. “He literally carried me in here over his shoulder, I don’t think I could really defend Y/N’s honor if it came to it!”

“Chenle…”

“Fine, Mom!”

v. i sat across from you, reading ulysses; and whilst i tried to project some intellect i’m not convinced i knew what it all meant, but i did know that the words were so pretty

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are?” Sungchan mumbled, resting his head on your shoulder.

You giggled, brushing some of his hair from his face. “Hmm, a couple times.”

“What?!” His head snapped back up, distress on his features. “Only twice?! God, what kind of boyfriend am I?”

The two of you were back in the team’s favorite dive bar, this time after the last home game of the season. It had been a smashing victory—in addition to the seniors’ last time to play a game on their home ice—meaning that everyone, including all of the long-graduated players and Nu Chi Tau brothers who had shown up, were celebrating extra hard tonight. You’d driven your car specifically to allow Sungchan to let loose for the occasion, hence his currently more-than-buzzed state.

He’d pulled you into his lap at the corner booth you were sitting at some time ago, morphing into the lovey-dovey cuddle monster that he always was when tipsy. Not that he exactly kept his hands to himself when he was sober either, but as soon as alcohol entered the equation, it was like he thought he’d die if he weren’t holding you at all times.

“I was playing, baby, you tell me that all the time,” you reassured him.

“Oh, good.” He breathed out in relief, going back to snuggling up to your shoulder. “Because you’re sooo pretty. Like, the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks, Channie.” You kissed the top of his head. “I think you’re pretty, too.”

“You do?”

“For sure.” You traced the line of the bridge of his nose. “My pretty boy.”

He hummed contentedly, but didn’t say anything more, letting his eyes flutter shut.

Ten, Taeyong, and another graduated Nu Chi brother, Kun, came over to your booth then, sliding into the seat across from you.

“Is he asleep?” Taeyong gestured to Sungchan.

“No, just a cuddly drunk,” you explained with a fond chuckle.

“‘M not drunk…” Your boyfriend protested.

“Tell that to the victory shots you were doing with Hyuck, Jeno, and Yangyang an hour ago,” you snorted, pushing your glass of water over towards him. “Here, some water, Channie.”

Kun offered out the half-eaten basket of onion rings that he’d walked over with. “Have some of these, too, Sungchan.”

“Sweet, thanks!” He grabbed a couple and stuffed them in his mouth happily.

“Thanks, Kun,” you smiled at him. “He didn’t drink on an empty stomach, so we should be ready to go in a bit. I want him mostly able to walk on his own two feet before we leave, though. Carrying a drunk Chenle and drunk Sungchan would be very different experiences, I feel.”

They all snickered, and you looked over at where your friend was currently pulling all of the cash out of his pocket to bet on a pool game between Johnny, Jaehyun—a former hockey player who had graduated last year, Jungwoo, and Yuta—former hockey player and Nu Chi brother, from the same cohort as Johnny. It looked like Dejun was running the betting pool, collecting Chenle’s money in addition to Hendery’s, Mark’s, and Hyuck’s.

“I feel like we should do something about the gambling happening over there…” Taeyong sighed, having been looking in the same direction as you.

“Probably,” Kun agreed, though neither of them made any move to get up. They simultaneously took swigs of their drinks.

“Y/N, what did you think of the reading for Direct Study?” Ten asked you, resting his very pink cheek in his hand.

“Oh, I thought it was fantastic!” You lit up. You and Ten both had Dr. Son for a Direct Study course this semester, and he was letting you two collaborate since you had such similar tastes in literature—you had a feeling your professor also liked having only one reading list and being able to meet with the both of you at once instead of separately. “I’ve always loved that author, though. The way her short stories can either be a quick read or you can really sit and take your time with them to absorb and peel back as many layers as you want.”

“You’ve read her before?”

“I recommended her to Dr. Son a while ago, actually. I read another one of her short story collections and sort of fell in love. I’ve been working through her whole body of work on my own time, but I hadn’t made it to this one yet, so I’m going into it with fresh eyes like you. I’m excited to see what you’ve been getting out of her works.”

“I think her diction is really fascinating.”

“Yes!” You gushed. “You can tell she takes her time with which words she’s using. Oh, I just love it.”

“You’re doing the Master’s in Literary Theory and Critical Analysis next year, right?”

“Yep! Picked my classes a couple weeks ago.”

Your friend flashed you a wide grin. “Thank God. There will be someone else competent.”

“Yeah, I’m doing Lit and Crit, and this one—” you patted Sungchan’s head as he was still shoveling onion rings in his mouth “—is going for his PhD in molecular biology.”

“Woah.” Ten’s eyebrows shot up.

“And what are you going to do with that, Sungchan?” Taeyong asked curiously.

“Fish,” your boyfriend answered absentmindedly through a mouthful of food.

You couldn’t help but laugh with your whole chest at his answer, even as you went to cover his mouth. “Chew and swallow before you talk, Channie. I think you just spat crumbs on poor Kun.”

The older man was flicking a piece of an onion ring off of his arm, giving you a strained, close-lipped smile.

Sungchan spent a considerable amount of time chewing his food, then washed it down with your water before giving a more cognizant answer. “I’m going to study a disease in a fish.”

“Molecular biology with a minor concentration in marine biology,” you corrected yourself and clarified his answer a bit more. “He’s joining one of his professors’ research teams.”

“Congrats, Sungchan,” the former Nu Chi president told him sincerely.

“Yeah, dude, wow,” Ten blinked, laughed, then shook his head. “You know, I don’t even know if I knew what your major actually was this whole time.”

“Seriously?” You snorted. “You two have been teammates for four years, and have lived together for two years.”

“I mean, I knew he was a STEM major,” Ten tried to defend himself. “But past that… yeah, I had no clue. It’s just sort of you know, when you think of Jung Sungchan, you think of hockey. He’s the hockey captain. I mean, does anybody really know Mark’s major?”

“I—”

“Not you, Taeyong, we know he was your Little.”

You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times, but found yourself drawing a blank. After all this time of getting closer to the team, you had sort of prided yourself on being friends with and knowing all of your boyfriend’s teammates on some individual level as people. But frustratingly, all you could think up for Mark was that he was Nu Chi president, center on the hockey team, and had been in your Comp I class a few years ago—a Gen Ed credit.

“Well damn,” you said bitterly.

“Exactly.”

After a beat, Taeyong spoke up quietly, “Music Theory. He likes producing music.”

Ten, Sungchan, and you all let out a chorus of ‘ohh’s at this revelation. You looked over at where Mark was spectating the pool game—from a vantage point of leaning tipsily against Johnny’s side when he wasn’t shooting, and against Jaehyun’s side when Johnny was shooting. You watched with amusement as he got passed back and forth, happy to see him being taken care of for once instead of taking care of all his friends.

“I should go swap out my Little’s drink for some water,” Taeyong announced. It was then that Hyuck must have made some comment to Mark, as Mark shoved his friend away with a loud complaint, his tone sounding rather embarrassed. “And my grand-little too…”

Dejun, Hendery, and Chenle were spectating their drunken spat in fits of giggles. Dejun and Hendery both reached for their drinks again, and Kun shook his head.

“I should do the same for my own demons before they get to that point,” Kun stood up with Taeyong.

Ten followed them out, “And I’m not going to third wheel. Bye, you two!”

“Bye, guys,” you gave the three of them farewells. “Congrats again, Ten.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he beamed down at you genuinely.

“Oh, Kun!” You called for him before he could get out of earshot.

He stopped a turned to you with an inquisitive eyebrow raised.

“Thanks for the onion rings, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I have one more favor to ask: Can you cut Chenle off too?” You requested. “And I’m not sure how you all are sorting out DDs tonight, but—”

“I’ll make sure he gets home safe,” he promised. “You two have a goodnight.”

“Thanks. Goodnight!”

Looking between Sungchan and the empty onion ring basket, you then checked the time on your phone.

“Alright, are you ready to go, baby?” You asked him quietly.

He nodded with his whole upper body. “Am I going home with you?”

“Yep. I’m taking you back to my place, and our classes all got canceled tomorrow for Spring Break, remember?” You shouldered your tote bag. “So we get to sleep in.”

“That’s my favorite thing.”

You giggled. “Sleeping in?”

“No, waking up with you,” he wrapped both his arms around your waist again. “And giving you a good morning kiss, and cooking breakfast for you, and helping you with your meds and your cuff.”

“I have a feeling I’ll be getting you meds in the morning tomorrow,” you quipped, pecking his forehead. “But I think mornings with my Sungchannie are one of my favorite things, too.”

“Sounds like a perfect match to me.”

“Hard to argue you with you there,” you snickered. “So are you ready to go? The sooner we go home and go to sleep, the sooner it’ll be morning, you know.”

“You’re so smart, baby. My girl’s the smartest ever…”

Pushing yourself out of his lap, you pulled him out of the booth after you and onto his feet. He immediately looped his arm around your shoulders, and you kept a hand on his chest and an arm around his waist to steady him as you started towards the exit. At the door, the two of you stopped to give the whole bar a final wave and call goodbye to anybody who heard you. You got a loud, raucous chorus of yelled and slurred goodbyes in return before you headed out to your car.

Back at your apartment, you made him change out of his clothes that smelled like the bar and into some of his that he kept here, then got into your own pajamas for the night before flopping into bed.

“Okay, question,” you announced as he laid his head in your lap, throwing an arm across your legs as if you were going anywhere.

“About?” He asked, his eyes fluttering shut and a content smile coming to his face as you started playing with his hair.

“How do you think you made it to the top two in Phantasmagorical Phriday this year? I mean, I’ve been thinking about it, and I’m not trying to be mean, Channie, or like, a Lit major elitist or anything, but Chenle and I have both been studying this stuff for four years now, right? Hendery has at least taken professional writing classes and some other stuff for his Comm degree. I think. But, no offense, you STEM majors aren’t exactly lauded for your excellent prose. First year, okay, we’re all brand new at it, and Dr. Son actually did real workshopping with us on it. But after that, we were essentially just getting coffee together once a month and then sending him a short story.”

He squinted one eye open to peer up at you curiously. “Do you think I bought off Dr. Son or something?”

“Bought off our professor so that you would almost win? Sounds like a waste of your money. Maybe bought off Chenle and Hendery to write shitty stories this year and better your chances? But you knew I was so morally upstanding that I wouldn’t take the bribe.”

“Oh, definitely. You’ve cracked it,” he snickered, closing his eyes again to enjoy your fingers working through his hair.

“I mean… Do you have a secret poetry journal in here somewhere?”

“No. You just kind of are being a little bit of a—” he was cut off by a loud yawn “—Lit major elitist, baby.”

“Mm?” You tilted your head with a confusion, perturbed frown on your face.

“You think that every STEM major just gets their Gen Ed humanities credits and never picks up a book again for the rest of their life.”

“Well…”

“Am I wrong?”

“It’s not like I’m out here balancing equations for fun!” You tried to defend yourself. “I got my science credits and never looked back.”

“I took a few more creative writing and literature classes sometimes,” he shrugged. “Whenever I had a spare slot in my schedule, or needed a couple credits of whatever to keep my scholarship for the semester.”

“Yeah, student athletes, you guys have to be full-time in order to keep your scholarships.”

“Mhm. Sometimes all the classes I needed for my degree that were happening in a semester didn’t uhm, didn’t make the minimum credits, so I needed another class or two.”

“Why lit classes? And writing classes?”

“Baby, it’s literally what you’ve been studying for four years and you’re acting like you can’t understand why anybody would be interested in it,” Sungchan pointed out, pinching your thigh.

You swatted his hand away. “No, I’m just trying to understand you.”

“Did I really act like I hated Dr. Son’s class that much freshman year? I did all four years of Phantasmagorical Phriday.”

“No, you didn’t seem like you hated it or anything. I just thought that you would’ve used the extra slots for easy classes. PE or something.”

“Yeah, Coach was always trying to get me to take his classes.”

“But you just really like writing and lit classes that much?”

“Why is this so surprising to you?”

“Well— I just kind of feel bad that I keep leaving you out of all the crit lit conversations that Ten and I have,” you admitted guiltily, not intending to leave him out of all your fun conversation with his teammate about books in your lit classes, but he never seemed all that interested; nor had he read any of the books, to your knowledge. “Do you want to borrow books or read along so you can talk with us about it?”

“That’s okay, baby,” he told you, reaching up to pat your hands that were already on top of his head. “Honestly, I like listening to you talk about all this stuff more than I ever liked the classes themselves.” After a beat, he absentmindedly added, “I would kind of pick them half-hoping you had signed up for the class, too.”

You tilted your head curiously. “Really?”

“It was more like a little daydream that I had. That I’d walk in on the first day of class and you’d be sitting there and recognize me and smile at me and ask if I wanted to sit with you. Then, you know, we’d swap notes, be study buddies, and I would finally get the courage to ask you out,” Sungchan sighed, nuzzling his cheek against your thigh in an almost nostalgic and bittersweet way.

“Channie…”

“That was really embarrassing to admit. I thought I was going to die without telling anybody that, especially you,” he mumbled, his voice becoming more muffled as he turned his head to fully bury his face in your lap.

“You are a bit tipsy, baby,” you reminded him gently, stroking the back of his head.

He turned onto his back to fully look up at you, taking a slow blink before adding emphatically, “And I just love you so much.”

You grabbed him by the sides of the face to look him in the eye very seriously, but couldn’t hold it for very long, tender smile coming back to your features almost immediately.

“I love you too,” you affirmed, and he was once again beaming, grabbing your hand to presumably kiss your knuckles, but he missed a bit and kissed the back of your wrist instead. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course! Anything for my girl.”

“Your girl wants to know…” You said your words slowly and enunciated to make sure he understood. “On the first day of Dr. Son’s class, do you remember how you felt about me then?”

Specifically, you were thinking about the second game of the season, when you’d learned about Hendery and Chenle’s bet from freshman year. Hendery swore he could tell Sungchan had a crush on you from the first day of Dr. Son’s class, but you had your doubts. Mostly because you yourself couldn’t even remember looking at Sungchan on the first day of class, much less even talking or, God forbid, flirting with him—literally anything that would warrant him apparently outwardly crushing on you.

His face immediately scrunched up. “Mmm…”

“It’s okay baby, I know it was a long time ago, and you’ve had a bit to drink—”

“No, I remember, I remember. I’m just afraid you’re going to think I’m a creep…”

“More of a creep than signing up for classes in my major hoping I was going to be in them?”

“I’m sorry!” He rushed to apologize, his features immediately turning distraught as he half-sat up in his haste to say sorry.

“Shh, shh, my Sungchannie, it’s okay, it’s okay,” you quieted him, squeezing his hand that he was still holding and stroking his forehead, encouraging him to lay down again. “I was just teasing you, I’m sorry, that was mean of me. I think it’s cute, I promise.”

“You think I’m cute?” He asked with a heavy pout.

“Baby boy, I’m in love with you. Of course I think you’re cute.”

The corners of his mouth pulled back into a small smile. “Yay…”

“So? Will you please tell me?”

“M’kay…” He huffed and readjusted again, this time to rest some of his weight on his shoulder as his head was still pillowed in your lap. “I remember everything about that first class, you know? The room number, where we were all sitting, the Phantasma Phour…”

“Really?”

“Third flour, 3104.”

“I thought Gothic Lit was on the second floor?”

“It was on the third floor only for the first week then it got moved to the second floor for the rest of the semester.”

“Huh. Good memory.”

“I remember because the third floor of the Lang building is always super hot, but I didn’t know that because it was our first day. I wore my new hoodie from the team because I was so proud to be on the team, but I didn’t have another shirt on under it because I heard the Science building was always cold from some other Bio majors, so I thought I wasn’t going to have to take it off. So when we were in Dr. Son’s class that first day, I couldn’t take the hoodie off, even though it was like a billion degrees in that room…”

“Oh, oh no, Channie.” You attempted to coo sympathetically through your chuckles.

Sungchan sighed, pulling your hand back to his hair. “Anyway, Dr. Son had us in that Socratic circle, remember?”

“Yep, I remember.” You nodded, obliging to his whims easily and playing with his hair again.

“I was right next to the door, because I just wanted to get in and out of there. Hendery ran in a couple minutes late, and he ended up next to me. You and Chenle sat together at the front, a few seats away from Dr. Son’s desk, right next to the window. I just remember thinking that you were really pretty, with the window kind of giving you this little halo of light.”

“Baby, how is that creepy?” You chuckled. “You thought I was pretty.”

“You don’t remember what happened in the rest of that first class, do you?”

“What? What happened?”

“Dr. Son had us do an icebreaker with a partner…” He trailed off leadingly.

“Channie, I’ve taken so many of Dr. Son’s classes at this point, I can’t even remember who I was paired up with for that one,” you tried to reassure him.

“It was me.”

“Oh.”

“So not only was I a sweaty mess in that hoodie, but I had to be a sweaty mess while talking to this really pretty girl.”

“Channie…” You looked down at him, guilty for not remembering this at all. Though maybe it was for the better if he was apparently such a mess? Maybe that would soothe his distress over “embarrassing” himself in front of you.

“I thought Dr. Son was going to have us ask the normal stuff, name, major, year, you know. But it was Dr. Son, so of course it wasn’t normal.”

“Of course.”

“He made us ask all that, and made us ask each other something we were afraid of, and something we wanted. It wasn’t going to be shared with the class, just with our partner. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of you, pretty girl that I knew nothing about other than your name, that you were a freshman, and a Lit major. I really wanted to impress you, but I couldn’t come up with anything super deep. Do you know what I said?”

“No…” You confessed, tone already apologetic as you held his gaze. “I’m so sorry, baby, I don’t remember any of this.”

“S’okay…” He yawned again. “I said the truth. I was afraid of not being as good at hockey as I thought I was, and that I wanted to be team captain one day.”

“Those were good answers. It was the truth, not some philosophical lie. And look at you now, baby boy,” you told him strongly, patting his chest before going back to stroking his head.

“Mm… Back then you just kind of had this look on your face that wasn’t really dislike or even boredom or anything but just sort of like… that was exactly what you were expecting me to say. I felt like I’d just put myself into the dumb, self-centered, sports-obsessed jock archetype in your mind and I’d never be able to get out. Because then you answered and I wanted to smack myself for giving such stupid answers and wearing that stupid hoodie.”

“What did I say?”

“You were afraid of what the outcome of your brain MRI was going to be. And you wanted to hurt less.”

Your jaw dropped in mortification. “Oh my god… Sungchan, I’m so sorry I just dumped all that on you literally the first time we met. I…I had a lot going on then, with my migraines. I had just started seeing my neuro like a month before classes started, she ordered the MRI as a just in case thing, but it still made me so freaked. My appointment to go over the results was after my classes that day, I literally couldn’t think about anything else. All I remember about the first day of freshman year is that appointment, getting the clean results. Holy shit, don’t tell me I dropped that on you and left you hanging about whether or not I was fine?”

“When I saw you on Wednesday actually laughing and smiling with Chenle, I was hopeful. I didn’t want to ask you in case it wasn’t good, though, and you were just trying to distract yourself or something. So I caught up to Chenle after class a while later and asked him. After Dr. Son started the Phantasma Phour stuff. He didn’t tell me about your migraines, just said that the results were clean.”

“Ah, Channie… None of that was creepy.” You promised sweetly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“This is the creepy part…” He mumbled, gaze turning downwards. “Jeno saw me when I was talking to Chenle and invited me to the Nu Chi Halloween party that year, Chenle too. And Chenle brought you, and you got a migraine.”

“I didn’t realize you were there too. Did you see me screaming my head off?”

“No. I was trying to keep Jeno distracted.”

“Jeno?” You echoed, confused.

“Jeno said in the locker room…” Another yawn. He rubbed his eye. “He said he invited Chenle because he knew Chenle was going to bring you, and he wanted to sleep with you. But he didn’t think you would’ve come if he had invited you himself.”

You pursed your lips thoughtfully at this new revelation. “Huh…”

“I was keeping Jeno distracted with beer pong and stuff, but he finally slipped away, I guess at the same time you got your migraine. When he told me the next day that he was giving up on fucking you because you’d punched him in the face and he ‘knew better than to stick his dick in crazy,’ I thought you decked him for coming onto you and just admired you even more.”

“Not quite,” you laughed, remembering the bloody nose he’d nursed all night in the same room that you were nursing your migraine and Chenle sobered up. “But this story does add a whole new layer to my friendship with Jeno… Does Chenle know about this?”

“I don’t think so. Or Jeno would have gotten his nose broken again, right?”

“Probably.”

“Are you mad?”

“What would I be mad about? You having a crush on me? Our mutual friend wanting to fuck me one time three years ago?” You snorted, cupping his cheeks to get him to roll over and look at you again. “Baby, the only person I could possibly be upset with here is myself for not even giving you a second look in that class three years ago. Because then I could’ve had my Sungchannie this whole time.”

“Noooo…” He whined, shaking his head zealously. “I should’ve actually done something instead of just pining like a loserboy.”

“But you’re my loserboy now.”

His eyes widened. “You think I’m a loser?”

“Of course. My prettiest, cutest, sweetest, loveliest—” you punctuated each adjective with a kiss to his nose “—loserboy that I love so much.”

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” You smiled down at him. “Now, I think that’s plenty of tipsy confessions for one night. It’s time for you to sleep, my Sungchannie.”

As you started readjusting to lay down next to him on the mattress, he grabbed you and pulled you into his chest like a teddy bear.

“You didn’t want to, right?” His voice was right under your ear.

“What?”

“Sleep with Jeno?”

You lowered your voice conspiratorially, “I’m going to tell you a secret: I couldn’t tell any of the Nu Chi guys apart for the longest time. Didn’t even know Jeno’s name until I broke his nose. To me, they were all just gross frat guys who probably didn’t know how to wash their dicks.”

“Should’ve kept it that way,” he grumbled, holding you even tighter.

“Oh? You want me to unlearn all of our friends and acquaintances names?” You teased, wrapping one of your arms around him too.

“Can you?” He asked hopefully.

“Not quite how it works, I’m afraid,” you clicked your tongue. At his tipsy whines starting back up again, you hushed him once more, “Shh, it’s okay. I might know all their names, but none of them get to be baby boy.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He agreed, and you could hear the smug smile in his voice.

“You need anything else from your girl? Or will you finally let her sleep?”

“Kiss?”

“Of course.”

Tilting your head up, you pressed your lips to Sungchan’s. He hummed contentedly against your mouth, unhurried in his motions as he met your every move. You sleepily kissed him, entirely unaware of time, but finally pulling back when your lids were getting too heavy to properly open back up. Blindly giving one more kiss to the corner of his mouth—it felt more like the side of his bottom lip, honestly—you settled your head back on his chest.

“There you go, Channie.” You yawned, pushing your face further into him. “Goodnight… I love you.”

“Goodnight, baby,” he was mumbling too, presumably also on the brink of falling asleep. “Love… you…”

vi. whilst i make space for all the parts of me that i do not want, i let them be, as minds twist through the fractured expanse of our being

“Okay, thank you,” you forced a casual nod to your doctor as she entered in a few more things on her computer.

“The ladies up front will schedule everything when you check out,” she offered you a kind smile. “Do you have any more questions for me today, Y/N?”

“No, no, just uh… need to get everything scheduled, you know.”

“Alright, well it was good to see you as always,” she stood up, leading you towards the door of the exam room. “And I’ll see you again soon. Have a good day.”

“You too.”

You went through the motions of checking out and scheduling, adding the next appointments to your phone calendar with the receptionist at the front desk, then shuffled out to the parking lot. Your mind was still reeling as you got into the passenger seat of Sungchan’s car.

“Hey, how’d it go?” He turned in his seat to ask you. It was just one of your normal check-ups with your neurologist today, and with the hockey season over, Sungchan had the time to take you to and from the appointment, promising to take you out for dinner after. You didn’t have much of an appetite anymore.

Your gaze was locked on the dashboard in front of you. Your jaw clenched as you tried to battle back the tears that threatened to well up and just answer him.

“They’re getting worse again. Increase in- in frequency and severity,” you finally choked out. “My neuro wants to get a blood panel and brain MRI done again. She says we probably just need to adjust my meds again but—”

“A brain MRI?” Sungchan echoed in disbelief.

“Make sure there’s nothing in there that’s not supposed to be in there. It’s always clean, but every single time, the what if… it’s scary,” you admitted, your voice getting smaller as the tears finally came, spilling over onto your cheeks and down into your lap.

“Oh… oh baby,” his voice softened as he reached over to take your hand.

“And even if everything, all of that fucking shit is clean. It just means that my stupid fucking meds have stopped working and my stupid fucking body isn’t working like it’s supposed to and I have to do it all over again. Trying out more medications that’ll do God fucking knows what to me until we find the new perfect concoction that keeps me a semi-functioning person. God dammit!” You spat out, slamming your other hand down in a fist against the dash. “Ow, fuck, that hurt. God, fucking stupid…”

Sungchan grabbed both your hands with one of his, keeping them in your lap as he wiped at your tears with his free hand. “Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you blubbered. “That you got me and that I’m—”

“Stop it,” he cut you off sternly, with the harshest tone he’d ever taken with you. “Don’t you dare start apologizing for this. I wouldn’t let anybody else talk about you like that around me, and you’re not going to either.”

“God, yeah, okay,” you nodded and sniffled. “Thanks, Channie.”

“When is it? The MRI?”

“I-I have it in my calendar somewhere.”

“I’ll go with you,” he promised, cradling your chin in his palm to get you to look at him. “Whenever it is, I’ll go with you. And when you go get the results, okay? Car, waiting room, exam room, wherever you want me, alright? But you won’t be alone.”

You bit your bottom lip, squeezing his hand tight with both of yours. “I’d really like that. Thank you.”

He leaned across the center console to press a kiss to your forehead. “Anything for my girl.”

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natspookie · 10 months

Text

music to my heart

natasha x shy!fem reader

☆ summary : just reader who likes music, and natasha who likes reader

☆ warning : not proofread & messy ….

natasha was raised to be observant. noticing the details many miss at first glance. her first impression of you was, clearly, shy. but she saw how loud your actions were.

when there were meetings and a question was asked there would be a silence for a moment. she’d see you inhale, about to open your mouth, when someone else answers and you sink back to your chair.

natasha notices the bouncing of your leg when it’s almost your turn to present the mission recap, and the gulp you take before speaking a few quiet words. but she also sees how you straighten your posture, more confident after a while.

but more so, how it’s rare to see you without your earphones. working out, eating breakfast, sitting outside, laying on the bed, there was always those wired earphones connected to your phone.

occasionally natasha could catch a glimpse of the album cover playing on your lock screen.

it was only recently when everyone was gathered in the common room, enjoying free time, when thor returned. you broke your right arm on a mission so you had a cast, unable to move it.

you had left your earphones on the couch while getting a glass of water when thor’s hand accidentally brushed it and a little crackling noise was heard.

natasha turned to the sound and frowned when she saw the white (really a little grey since it’s been used for so long) earphones turn a burnt brown color.

you returned and saw thor examining your earphones. he apologized over and over saying he would get you a new pair as soon as possible, you nodded, muttering a ‘don’t worry’, and took them as you left.

natasha liked that you didn’t say ‘it’s okay’, because you probably wouldn’t have meant it.

natasha decided to check up on you, knocking on your door. she heard a few grunts and things falling but the door opened as you pulled a sweater over your tank top. “hey natasha” you smiled, widening the door with your hand.

“you alright? where are you going?” natasha examined the room “uhh about to get some new earphones” “you’re driving with one hand to the mall” natasha raised a brow “perhaps” you shrugged, putting on your socks.

“i’ll drive you” natasha offered “no! i mean- no..” natasha squint her eyes “.. i don’t want to bother you” “i was bored anyways, see you at the front in 5 minutes” natasha winked and left with no room left to argue.

you laughed quietly before becoming a little nervous. you admired natasha, who didn’t? but you always knew natasha was an observer, you were too. you couldn’t help but feel a little shy as she read you like an open book, that’s what you thought at least.

you met natasha outside as she smirked in her chevrolet corvette stingray. you smiled, hopping inside as you put your seatbelt on.

“so what mall are we going to?” natasha asked “the closest one” you shrugged

it was comfortable silence for awhile until there was a red stop light and natasha fiddled with the screen in the car. she handed her phone to you and you looked at it confused. “play your music, sweetheart” she started the car again as the green light went.

if you were standing you would have fallen to the ground with that nickname. “thanks” you murmured, searching the songs you wanred on her spotify. you smiled already seeing fleetwood mac in her searched.

you played around with it a little, starting off with dreams, then drake’s passionfruit, and some daniel caesar songs. it wasn’t a long ride but natasha could tell you were biased daniel.

she watched from her peripheral as you mouthed the words quietly, gazing (gayzing) out the window.

the walk inside the mall was quiet. natasha insisted she come with you. you bought yourself the normal pair of wired earphones at apple but decided to spoil yourself and get a pair of wireless headphones, just incase.

she didn’t mind staying behind or beside you as you smiled hearing music, testing the different kinds of headphones. you turned around and tapped natasha’s shoulders, she looked at you expectingly as you turned one side of the flexible silver sony headphones to her and she pressed her ear against it. daniel caesar’s “do you like me” flooded her ears

“Is this one good?” you looked at her. she stood up straighter and nodded. “the rose gold one looked cuter on you though” she rasped out while you blushed.

you walked to the counter. you bought the rose gold ones. the ride home all you played was daniel caesar.

you hugged natasha with one arm as a thank you before hurrying to your room, eager to try your new headphones.

natasha wondered if it was a good idea to let you buy them because now, she seemed to talk to you less.

it had been 2 weeks later, arm fully healed when natasha asked you, personally, to assist her on her 3 day long mission. she just wanted to spend more time with you.

you nodded with a small smile and natasha was ecstatic. until she heard you at the kitchen. “hey! i was wondering if you wanted my daniel concert ticket? i don’t think i’ll be able to make it…” natasha saw you fiddling with the blue ticket, her chest tightened. “great! i’ll send over the tickets later, thanks!” natasha made her way to her room, to do research on this concert.

she kept a straight face as the concert was the exact 3 days she had just asked you on a mission for.

natasha would make it up to you.

right after the mission, natasha dropped the team off at the shield headquarters when she flew you both to the next location this daniel caesar was performing. “nat, where are we goin?” you laughed

“surprise” she winked

she asked you to change into your usual clothes and dragged you through the crowd. “oh my god” you saw the banner of the concert “OH MY GOD!” you shrieked as you walked into the theatre “NATASHA! you! i-! what!” you jumbled your words as natasha laughed at your antics, dragging you to good middle upper seats.

“no one has ever done this for me” you admitted, staring into her eyes. people started screaming as your favorite artist entered the stage. you still couldn’t tear your eyes away from natasha.

the song “do you like me” played and you sang quietly the lyrics to natasha ‘low on time i’d like to make a move’ you murmured, inching closer to you, as she did. when your lips met, you felt on fire.

“thanks for driving me to the mall that day” you said against her ear, grinning “thanks for being the music to my heart”

a/n, i’m seeing daniel next week and this is how i cope… i’ll never be fine again

#natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romonova

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spamgyu · 12 days

Text

hell n back // vernon drabble

it was rare for him to have a day off, even rare for it to fall on the same as yours.

the two of you had decided that the best way to make use of this once in blue moon event was to lounge about in your shared apartment – enjoying one another's company before he is forced to go back to his tireless schedule.

you watched as your boyfriend fiddled with the sound system at the corner of the living room – mumbling something about wanting to play you his new favorite song. you always did admire his love for music, the two of you using this shared interest to naturally govern most of your conversations.

there was evidence of this throughout your apartment; the main one being a wall of vinyl record covers from both past and present hip-hop artists you two enjoyed listening to. right below this display was a large mid-century modern wooden console; holding your boyfriend's prized possessions.

a turn table and radio system.

it wasn't long before the sound of the artist whistling blared through the speakers; vernon turning to you with a large grin on his face.

"come here." he held his hand out for you to take.

laughing, you set your phone down to accept his offer – allowing for him to take lead and sway along with the beat.

"could you tell where my head was at when you found me? me and you went to hell and back just to find peace" he sang along with the artist, bouncing to the trumpet that played. "the lyrics– it reminds me of us."

you listened closely to the words being played, allowing it to transport you back in time to when you had first met him. both of you weren't at your lowest, but you two were definitely not at your best – simply cruising through life with the intent to survive.

before him, you had gone through a list of men who had broken your heart – giving up on love itself.

and he was the same.

people did say that the best kind of love was found when you weren't searching for it – scoffing at the idea until you met him.

it came so naturally; meeting vernon had possibly been one of the best things to happen to your life and he could say the same.

he had no intentions of starting a relationship when he had been introduced to you through a mutual friend, but by the end of the night, vernon couldn't get enough.

hell, half way through hearing you rant talk about pharrell's influence in the music industry – he had been sold.

vernon wasn't the type to ask someone on a date the same day he had met them; it was as if you had put him under a spell and he hadn't been able to shake it off since.

if soulmates were real, vernon had found his – you.

"oh, but I'm here now baby. no life been lifin' lately, so I save you if you save me. i was over love, I had enough, then I found you." now it was your turn to sing along, catching him by surprise.

"so you know the song?" he gasped.

"i was the one that showed it to you." you laughed.

"hm..." his bottom lip jutted out, as he tried to sift through his memories.

"four months ago– i sent it to you."

he was overseas at the time, attending some award show; if you recalled correctly.

"baby give this song a listen [spotify link]"

halting your movements, vernon slapped his hand on his forehead – he remembers. "ah shit..."

"it's okay." you shrugged, walking over to the couch as the song wrapped up.

"brain fog has been so bad lately." he sighed, plopping down next to you. "i hate it."

with his nonstop work schedule, it was no surprise that he had seemed to be forgetting quite a few things – but you paid no mind to it. it came with the title of being the girlfriend of one of the members of one of the most popular k-pop group.

it was minor details anyways, and he's human after all.

"do you at least remember me?" you teased.

squinting, vernon played along with the bit – tilting his head to the side. "looking like my future girlfriend."

you pursed your lips. "that's crazy, because i'm taken."

"leave him." vernon leaned closer.

"nah," you shook your head before leaning in as well, allowing for your lips to brush against his briefly. "he's a catch."

"doubt it." vernon snorted.

"he is! he's got this stupid smile, always tells the dumbest jokes, makes the best burnt grilled cheese–" you listed.

"ah! you said you liked it crispy!" he cried, earning a laugh from you.

"that's called softening the blow."

"can't catch a fucking break." he groaned, slouching in his position.

to anyone, this sense of domestication would be boring, but such mundane acts couldn't help but warm your heart.

he wasn't the performer you would watch from your seat, the guy who you watched on your phone screen – he was your boyfriend, the man who you swore you would spend the rest of your life with.

he was a silly boy, making silly jokes – letting you in on the personality that he hid away from many.

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@thegirlwhoimagined @forcheol @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @f4iryjjosh @akeminy

@yonabutnotyuna @tacosandbitch @aaniag @bettybotterboughtabitofbutter @xbaekcult

@alwaysalmostthere @ashkuuuu @morkswatermelonnnn @isabellah29 @lottogyu

@bubbly-moon @lllucere @bo-fairykim @pluviophile-xxx

@daegutowns @niktwazny303 @fragmentof-indifference @leah-rose03 @haolistic @eclliipsed

@joshuahongnumbers @gyuguys @yaaaridk @christinewithluv

@yoonzinoooo @livelikejinki @watercolureyes @whoa-jo @primoisellerose

@wonwoobestboyy @rakshithanotrao @mingcouper @aksweet7 @nikkell

@raginghellfire @kriizztin @doubleshoticedshakenespresso @porridgesblog @bbysnw

@squashcolouredskies @viewvuu @black-swan-blog27 @got7svt6

#as promised i'll be slowly posting the fluff drafts i have been hoarding #this is a little treat since i have been so mia #vernon drabble #vernon x yn #vernon x reader #vernon fluff #seventeen fic

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delicatebarness · 21 days

Text

i cant read your mind | chapter one

Summary: It has been six months since half the universe came back, six months since Steve left, six months since you lost Natasha, and three months since finding out the man you were sleeping with wanted to end it.

Warnings: MCU Spoilers. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier spoilers throughout.

Word Count: 1600

Spotify Playlist

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: I have watched TFATWS at least 6 times this week so I am prepared for this.

Tags: @blackhawkfanatic | @cjand10 | @wintrsoldrluvr | @missvelvetsstuff

As Sam addressed the crowd at the Smithsonian, you listened to his every word by Rhodey’s side. You let yourself laugh at the appropriate moments and fought back tears as your friend paid tribute to another. Your heart ached as you watched him pass on the shield, the symbol that guided you to become the best agent you could and more.

“I can’t do this,” you murmured almost inaudibly as you slipped away from the crowd, retreating to the quiet street. You steadied your thoughts, taking a few deep breaths. Retrieving your phone from your purse, you hesitated before dialing a number. “Come on,” you urged as the ringing persisted.

Disappointment washes over you as you realize there’s no answer on the other end, you stand there for a moment. Staring at your call lost, feeling the loneliness creep in as you see that none of your calls have been picked up. Taking another deep breath, you put your phone back and start walking. Each step is a deliberate effort to move forward.

While navigating the streets of Washington, your thoughts are focused on the events at the Smithsonian. The passing of the shield symbolized the end of an era for you. An era that had taken over her entire adult life.

You enter your quiet apartment and sink onto the couch. The weight of the day, flight, and lack of food were starting to seem heavier, you couldn’t bring yourself to get changed out of the formal black dress you had been wearing since half four that morning. You retrieved your phone from your purse once again, your fingers hovering over the screen as you debated whether to try calling again.

You knew it was getting late but you dialed the number again, heart pounding with anticipation. As the phone rang, you tried not getting your hopes up, but they were crushed when it went to voicemail.

Sighing deeply, you set your phone down as you got back up from the couch and made your way back out into the street. You were proud of yourself for not letting the tears spill down your cheeks.

The streets were quiet, and the soft glow of the streetlights offered a semblance of solace. With no destination in your mind, you wandered as the hunger gnawed at your stomach. Searching for a nearby restaurant for a late-night bite, you approached the diner you knew as Izzy.

Your heart lurched in your chest as you recognized the figure through the window, sitting opposite a woman, she seemed to be laughing at whatever it was he was telling her. Playing a game of Battleship and drinking. “Not like that’s going to affect him,” you thought as you took in the sight. For a moment, you stood frozen in place, the tears you previously held back now beginning to spill.

Once you were home and washed the day off of you, a hint of optimism rose from within you. Deciding to open yourself up to a new experience, you downloaded a popular dating app and uploaded all the photos of you in dresses that hugged your body just the way you loved. The way he once said should be for his eyes only. Swiping through profiles, it didn’t take long for you to come across someone who caught your eye, and match with them.

You exchanged messages for the rest of the night, at some point agreeing to meet for brunch the next morning.

Your date was waiting for you when you arrived at the cafe, a friendly smile lighting up his face. Exchanging greetings, he pulled out a chair for you and helped with your coat and bag. You thanked him, finding yourself relaxed in his company.

Settling into conversation, you shared stories, laughed, and began feeling a genuine connection. You hadn’t allowed yourself to truly feel this happy in three months, letting yourself let go of the weight that had been pressed into your chest for so long.

“Is that? Is that The Winter Soldier?” your date asked, his focus moving away from you and instead toward the entrance of the cafe. Turning your gaze over to where your date had been looking, it felt like time stopped as you looked into the eyes of a furrowing James Buchanan Barnes. His fist clenched under his leather gloves.

“Here we go,” you mumbled under your breath as you noticed him making his way over to you. With trembling hands, you reached for the glass of champagne that sat on the table in front of you. Tilting the glass back, you swallowed every last drop of it in an attempt to calm yourself down.

“I need to speak to you,” Bucky growled, his voice low and commanding as he towered over you. As much as you’ve wanted nothing more than to be around him for the last three months, you kept your gaze fixed on your date. “Now.”

“I’m on a date,” your tone even with a hint of defiance as you responded to the super soldier. You watched as the eyes of your date filled with fear and amazement.

“I can see that,” he replied dryly, sarcasm dripping in his tone as he gave your date a pointed look. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, sensing the tension between you and Bucky.

“Whatever you have to say, it can wait,” your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I’m here with someone else,” you added emphasis on ‘someone else’ as you sensed him tense up beside you.

Your date cleared his throat, shooting a hesitant glance between you and Bucky. He spoke up, his tone polite but uneasy. “Perhaps I should… give you two some privacy?” He began to stand from the table, making his way over to the restrooms. Bucky quickly sat in the seat he had previously occupied.

Your gaze was ablaze with a mixture of hurt and frustration as you finally made eye contact with Bucky. “What do you want?” your voice trembled slightly.

Bucky couldn’t suppress the sarcasm that came from his tone as he looked over toward the restrooms. “Well, he seems like a real charmer,” his tone full of irony.

You shot him a disapproving look, eyebrows knitting together in a silent warning. “Again, what do you want?” Bucky looked back at you, a smirk playing at the corners of his hips. Rolling your eyes, you defended the man you had known for less than 12 hours. “He’s a nice guy,”

Leaning back in his seat, Bucky folded his arms across his chest as he sent you a knowing look. “If you say so,” he remarked. If it wasn’t for the dry and snarky tone, you’d have thought he was backing down. “And, I’m sure he can handle a doll such as you,” he continued while sending you a wink.

“Can’t you just go back to ignoring me like you have done for the last three months?” you sighed, picking up your fork and using it to move food around your plate.

“I saw the pictures you used for your little dating profile,” he glared at you when he noticed a smirk now taking place over your lips.

You shrugged nonchalantly and replied with a calm tone. “Yeah, and?”

His jaw tightened at your response, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “Thought they were only for me?” he pressed.

Your expression softened, remorse flickering over your features as you looked back at him. “Things change,” you murmured, your voice tinged with regret. “I waited five years for you to come back, five years of not even knowing if you were coming back,” your voice quivered with emotion.

Bucky’s gaze softened, and he straightened his posture. “I know-” he began to speak but you cut him off before he could finish.

“No, Bucky, you don’t” you shot back at him, your voice rising with each word. “You couldn’t possibly understand what it was like, not know where you went, or if you were alive or dead, or if you’d even come back,”

His jaw once again clenched, “I waited over 90 years for you to come into my life,” he confessed, his voice thick with emotion and vulnerability.

Your eyes widened at his admission, you were both surprised and in disbelief, “But yet, you only waited three months before jumping into bed with someone else,” you accused, voice thick with bitterness. “How was your night of Battleship, by the way?”

His hands balled into fists on top of the table, his voice raised to match yours. “Firstly, I didn’t sleep with her,” he retorted. “And secondly, what the fuck is this?” he gestures toward your date as he started to make his way back out of the restroom.

“I’m sorry,” your date now interrupts your conversation with Bucky as she makes his way back over to you. “I didn’t know you two are exes,”

“He’s not my ex!”

“She’s not my ex!”

Alone in the dimly lit apartment, you allowed yourself to have a moment to rest, closing your eyes and taking a few deep breaths. The weight of your date pressing down on your shoulders. Surprisingly, he asked for a second date. Once Bucky had left, he offered to take you out again another time. You happily agreed.

As you began to drift into a state of relaxation, the sound of the television caught your attention. “... it is with great honor that we announce here today that the United States of America has a new hero. Join me in welcoming your new Captain America.”

“What the fuck?!”

---

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #bucky fic #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #fatws!bucky x agent!reader #fatws bucky #fatws #fatws au

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strawberrynull · 12 days

Text

──౨ৎ ˙💌 ̟ hallway crush (Ep.1)

엔하이픈 | Enhypen | Nishimura Riki

──Pairing: idol!niki x afab!idol!reader

──Genre: fluff, angst

──Synopsis: Hybe is home to many idol groups including Enhypen and Jung Y/n's group, Star Stride. Most of the idols are friends from being a part of the same company. Suddenly, Nishimura Riki is enamored by the beauty of a girl who has never even thought about him.

──Warnings: cursing

──A/N: Thanks so much for the request! I know this was meant to be a oneshot but I had too many ideas and now it's being turned into a series. Whoops... FOLLOW FOR CHAPTER 2 !!!

masterlist

Nishimura Riki strode through the halls of the Hybe building. The sounds of footsteps and typing coming from the big open staff room. An exhausted sigh fell from his lips. He had just gotten finished with his private dance lessons and was on his way back to his dorm. The other Enhypen members had been waiting to serve dinner. It was already 8:46pm. Before Riki had started taking extra dance lessons, the members would eat together at 8. Despite telling them to just eat without him, they decided against it and stated that they would all wait for him to get home every weekday. Now Riki was rushing down the hallway to get home so him and everyone else could eat.

The boy quickened his steps. He didn't want the other members to wait for him for too long. Looking down at his phone, he almost didn't notice the girl he was about to run straight into. As soon as he lifted his head, he was face to face with the girl, only a few inches away from colliding. Riki quickly weaved to get out of her way. The gaze of her big pretty eyes flickered to him only for a split second as they both stepped to the side to avoid running into each other. In the passing moment he had seen her, he got a glimpse of just how gorgeous she was. She bowed quickly before running off. Her hair bounced slightly with each lively step she took. She was absolutely breathtaking.

Then it hit him that he had never even seen that girl before. His mind began racing with the endless possibilities. Could she be a staff member? She was way too pretty and fashionable to be a staff member. So then was she an idol? If so, he had never even noticed her up until now. He was so sure that he knew all the other Hybe idols. After a lot of thought, he decided to safely assume that she was from the new group that had debuted a few months ago.

In a hurry, he made his way back to the dorm where the other members had been waiting. Though he was no longer concerned with how long he had made them wait. All he wanted to do was figure out who that girl was. As soon as the door slammed open, Riki was already yelling to his band mates from the doorway.

"What's that new girl group that debuted this year?" He asked, throwing off his shoes.

"Star Stride. We literally have a show with them in two weeks." Jake yelled back, telling him to pay better attention. The others laughed at his ignorance.

"Star Stride... great. Thanks." He said quickly.

"Dinner is on the counter. I just took it back out of the oven because it-" Without another word, Riki made his way to his dorm room. He cut Heeseung off, shutting the door behind him. "...got cold. God damn it Riki." The rest of the members gave acrimonious groans, and sighs as he left them there to eat alone after they had waited for him for an hour.

In his room, Riki plopped down onto his bed, already searching for Star Stride on his phone. He opened Spotify and pressed play on their most recent album. While the music played, he began looking up the members, hoping to find the girl from the hallway. Of course he had to find out who you were. Star Stride had 5 members since a star has 5 points. Finally, after looking up 4 other members, he had looked up Star Strides main rapper. The girl was identical to the girl he had seen in the hallway. Riki quickly sat up in his bed, eyes wide as he scrolled through pictures of her.

"Jung Y/n. She's even the main rapper?" he muttered to himself, cupping a hand to his face to hide the smile creeping onto his lips. He was already flustered by the similarities the two of them shared. With his heart racing in his chest, he couldn't help but stare at the beautiful pictures of her from Star Strides most recent album. He was so focused on her that nobody could get him to leave his dorm room for the rest of the night. Not even to eat the dinner that they had all waited to eat.

For the next few days, Riki would roam the hall he had last seen Jung Y/n in. He would patrol that one hallway from 8:30pm until 9 o'clock in hopes to see her again. While pacing the halls, he would plan what he would say to the girl the next time he saw her strolling down the same hallway. The other members were already mad at him for skipping dinner last night. Now they were even more frustrated when he had started coming home even later than he had promised. Riki had better plans than sitting and eating dinner at a reasonable time. His infatuation had become a concern when he had skipped dinner for the third day in a row. He just had to see Y/n again. There was no way he could calmly eat without seeing her again.

It had been around a week since he had seen y/n for the first time. He hadn't seen her again yet but Riki wasn't giving up hope. In the past week, he had come up with a whole script for what he would say to her. He had even planned out how to look cool so maybe she would think he was handsome. What a sly boy.

Then he saw the same beautiful girl round the corner. There she was. Walking in the same direction she had been walking the last time Riki saw her. She was stunning. Her hair was now in a high ponytail that swayed behind her as she strode down the hallway. Her pretty eyes were focused on the stack of papers in her arms. She was quickly getting closer to Riki. This was his chance to talk to her. She was only a mere 10 feet away from him. Then 5. Then 2. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. He was completely frozen in place. He could only mutter a small "ah-". Y/n saw Riki and bowed, giving a quick hello before walking off just like the last time.

Fuck

He had screwed up his one chance to talk to her. Riki had waited a whole week for this moment and of course he had to choke up and let the chance slip through his fingers. Giving a heavy sigh, Riki slapped a palm to his forehead. Going after her would be weird and calling out to her would disrupt the staff room. He was at a dead end. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he shoved his hands into his pockets, walking back to the dorms in defeat.

About to round the corner to the staircase, he huffed in frustration before he felt a small tap on his shoulder. He turned to see a timid Y/n staring up at him through thick dark lashes. His mouth went dry and all the moisture had gone to his palms which were sweating profusely. He gulped almost comically and he worried that she had noticed his nervousness. It was really her, Jung Y/n, and she was right in front of him. She had purposefully stopped him to talk to him! Riki felt like he was dreaming. She cleared her throat before speaking, breaking Riki from his trance.

"Uh.. You're Nishimura Riki from Enhypen, right?" She asked formally. Her voice was small and shy. The complete opposite of what he had expected from the main rapper of Star Stride. She was also insanely cute and petite compared to his height. He expected a rapper to be more mature in looks. But this girl looked sweet and fragile. When he didn't answer, she tilted her head slightly, awaiting a response.

"O-oh yeah. Just call me Riki. You don't have to speak formally." he chuckled nervously, looking anywhere but at the girl in front of him. If he gave in and looked at her, he feared he might get lost staring at her features once again.

"I just wanted to tell you that it's an honor to be on a show with Enhypen next week." She explained, bowing deeply. Rikis eyes widened at how kind and pure-hearted she was. But before he could even respond, Y/n was off in the direction she had been going before.

Suddenly he was overjoyed to have Enhypen featured on a show with Star Stride.

(Riki talks about speaking formally because, even though this is written in english, they are speaking korean. In korea, you are expected to speak formally to everyone unless you are extremely close. Of course Y/n and Riki aren't close so Y/n uses formal speech. Riki tells her to speak casually but until stated otherwise, she will continue to speak formally with honorifics.)

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intotheficsofit · 1 month

Text

MDNI💀 +18 Only

-✨—✨—✨—✨—✨—✨—✨—✨—✨-

My Roommates Brother

Alright everyone be nice it’s my first fic.

We gotta classic trope today, the MC & Todo have an apartment together. Todo-Choso-Yuji all brothers vibe modern au style. Todo & MC were classmates/sparing buddies when they both ended up needing a place around the same time, they are platonic and goofy/very bro/sis vibe but the MC finally meets Choso and is smittttten.

Use of she/her pronouns as well as more feminine styled pet names, obvi this is a Reader X Choso smutty mess of a fic! Advanced apologies for any typos, I hope you find some enjoyment out of this piece💗

Oh and minors GTFO!! This ain’t for y’all 👏🏼

-✨-✨-✨-✨-✨-✨-✨-✨-✨-

The hot water soothed my aching muscles after an intense training sesh with Todo. I bopped around slightly to the beat of the ‘This is CORPSE’ spotify mix as I sudsed my sweat away. I thought I heard Todo’s voice from outside the door, I pulled back the shower curtain to pop my head out and keep my body shielded by the dark colored material.

“DO YOU NEED SOMETHING?”

More mumbles, the running shower and my loud music muffling whatever he was trying to tell me. I’m not particularly worried about Todo seeing me like this, he’s very open with his own body and we usually didn’t mind walking around in our undies around one another. It wasn’t a sexual thing, he’s not my type and I’m not his - to which looks suspicious to some people considering we live together but that’s not any of our concern.

“OPEN THE DOOR I CANT HEAR YOU DUMMY.”

A click and turn and Todo swung the door wide open, someone was behind him that I only recognized from photos.

“JESUS NOT ALL THE WAY?! WHAT DO YOU WANT??”

His eyes widened as he closed it only enough to have his head in the room. I saw his brother behind him hide his face before the door cut off his sight of me in the shower.

“My brother came to visit! We’re going to pick up dinner what would you like!”

I laughed and shook my head.

“That’s what you were trying to scream through the door about? God Todo, just get me whatever you get. Thanks bud.”

“OF COURSE! Enjoy your shower!”

He closed the door and I couldn’t help but laugh to myself, he was a big sweet dummy. I did love him like family, even if he wasn’t the brightest at times. My mind wandered to the blushing and hidden face that stood behind him…Todo had shown me many photos of both his brothers and Choso was super cute…he told me about how he’s kinda kept to himself and that they really only see one another when Yuji insists on it. Both of them were wrapped around the sweet pink haired boys finger, and I can’t blame them. Yuji was a good boy and always smiling, if anyone disliked him I’d be surprised.

I might have searched up Choso’s socials a bit after Todo and I moved in together…he was hanging up photos in his room and needed my help…I made sure to ask all the important questions. Choso was a drummer who smoked a fuck ton of weed and liked to watch anime, so in other words my perfect match. He wore dark red or purple eyeshadow a lot and liked to paint his nails…the Gerard Way type as I like to call it. I wasn’t too embarrassed about him seeing me after taking note of his reaction…it’d be nice to finally get to know him over dinner…test the waters a bit.

———

After getting out of the shower I half blow dried my curls so they looked somewhat neater than usual. Donning a little bit of mascara and smudging out my leftover liner, I threw on a white cropped tank top (that slightly showed my nipples and their piercings) and a pair of black leggings. I made my way down the hall towards Todo’s booming voice and the shuffling of bags.

“So what’s for dinner boys?”

I said as I toked on a blunt and approached them, a trail of smoke lining my previous path. I smiled sweetly at the two, Choso’s eyes widened and he grinned slightly as his cheeks turned pink. Todo of course gave me an ear to ear grin before explaining what he had ordered for us. I hovered over the counter and inhaled the delicious smells, humming in satisfaction. I took another hit from the blunt then held it out to Choso.

“Appetizer?”

He chuckled and took it from my fingers, after inhaling sexily through his mouth then nose he passed it back to me.

“Thanks..{Y/N} right?”

“That’s me.”

I winked at him as I inhaled deeply then passed it to Todo.

“You’re Choso right? It’s about time I met your other brother Todo.”

I playfully slapped at Todo’s arm, that was easily bigger than my head. He chuckled and passed the blunt across the counter to Choso before shoving me jokingly and making me stumble.

“You already kicked my ass earlier was that not enough you big oaf?”

A roar of a laughter erupted from Todo’s chest, he hooked his massive arm around my neck and pulled me to him lovingly like he would’ve Yuji. I clawed at his forearm, he was slightly choking me out.

“You’ve come so far in our spares, but you’ll never beat me little sis!”

I gagged slightly as I laughed.

“Out of everyone here I don’t want you to be the one choking me, let go!”

I jabbed my elbow into his toned gut as I struggled for freedom, not noticing how Choso reacted to my comment. He continued to laugh heartily and tussle my hair roughly before releasing me from his grasp. It wasn’t til then that we realized Choso choking on the weed smoke and poorly attempting to hide it.

“Are you okay baby brother?”

“D-Don’t…*cough cough*…don’t call me..*cough*..that I’m older…*cough cough*”

I grabbed a bottle of water from our fridge and came to Choso’s side to swap it out with the blunt. As he raised his head to drink the water he glanced at my concerned expression, his face was bright red from coughing so hard and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

“You gonna make it?”

I chuckled and rubbed his shoulder gently. He choked on the water…

“Goodness brother!”

Todo ran up behind him, I saw the fear ignite in Choso’s eyes as he knew what was coming next.

“Todo maybe don’t-“

My concerns were voiced too late, Todo smacked him on the back a couple times trying to help. Choso coughed a few more times but surprisingly, it did help him stop choking.

“God you brute..”

Choso mumbled as he regained his breath. I couldn’t help but giggle, covering my face in the process as he glared at Todo. The blunt was out and our food was getting cold at this point so we all convened in the living room to chow down. I snagged the remote before Todo could, we always argued on what to watch so the rule was whoever touched the remote first got dibs. Naturally, I turned on one of my comfort shows -One Punch Man- to which Todo groaned once I hit play on the first episode of season one.

“You told me you liked this one why are you moaning and groaning?”

“It’s always a different cartoon.”

“It’s anime.”

Choso and I barked at him in unison, to which we looked to one another and grinned as we found a common interest. (That I definitely didn’t already know about psssh)

“What’s this one about again?”

I proceeded to stuff my face and overdump the lore of the series, complaining about how more isn’t animated because the manga is so wonderfully complex. Todo then compared himself to that of Saitama with godlike strength, I didn’t deny him only to get him to continue to the next episode to see what would happen next. Choso ate quietly and watched us converse, I would glance to him now and then with a ‘you know what I’m trying to say’ or ‘you understand this more I’m sure’. He would smile and nod as he took careful bites, slowly clearing his plate. After a handful of episodes our bellies were full, Todo collected our trash and took it out, leaving Choso and I alone.

“Wanna smoke? I don’t know what he’s told you, but I smoke a lot so if it bothers you I can go to my room.”

“Oh no it’s fine, I do too..”

His voice was deep, slightly raspy. It made me feel the butterflies fighting in my stomach as he spoke. I smiled, standing from the couch I watched the way his eyes trailed down my body.

“Cool, I’ll go roll up real quick then. Obviously make yourself at home, you know where the bathroom is already.”

I giggled as I spoke to him, turning on my heels to head to my room and retrieve the smokeables. I heard Todo reenter our home and have a much more quiet conversation with his brother. I tried to peer down the hall to hear them but was unsuccessful. I threw on a cropped sweatshirt jacket and lit the blunt between my lips. As I tip toed down the hall, still trying to listen to their hushed conversation, the floorboards played against me as I neared the entrance of the room. The creaking made the two men dart their attention backwards towards me, I strolled in casually and tossed a blunt in front of Choso and a joint in front of Todo.

“Talking shit about me while I’m rolling up for you two?”

Choso nervously shook his head no while Todo laughed.

“Yes little sis, I was telling him how much you stink after training.”

“Oh I won’t deny that, but it’s still not as bad as when you get back from sparing with Yuji.”

I chuckled back at him as I tossed him a lighter. I nodded to the back door, that lead to our small balcony patio, while toking heavily. Todo nodded and rose from his seat, motioning his brother to follow us. The back door would stick shut now and then from one time when Todo ran into it and fucked up the frame, so I always had to have him open it, I was not strong enough.

Upon Todo yanking the door open, his arm swung backwards aggressively and caused me to stumble…directly into Choso. His arms wrapped around my waist and torso as I fell, his fingers accidentally brushing over my chest. For a split second I felt a tinge of fire inside me.

“Shit..are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry for almost taking you out with me.”

“It wasn’t your fault, dumbass doesn’t know his own strength.”

We chuckled as I stumbled to my feet, Choso grabbed the dropped blunt and held it out to me with a smile. Todo hadn’t even realized what he’d done, proceeding to walk out onto our balcony and take a seat in his chair.

“You have got to be more aware of your surroundings dude.”

I spoke as I walked out and leaned against the railing to face him. He was puffing away on his tiny joint and already had some J-pop video pulled up on his phone. I scoffed and shook my head, turning to face the city and toke. Shit it went out. I went to turn around but Choso’s shoulder met mine as I spoke.

“Who has the-“

He was already holding the lighter out and wearing a beautiful smile.

“Oh, thanks ChoCho.”

“ChoCho?”

He giggled as he inhaled on his blunt, leaning over the railing beside me.

“I don’t know it just came out, that okay?”

“Yeah, thats fine. Sounds like something Yuji would say.”

He shook his head as his grin widened, I tried not to stare too long but he was very…pretty up close like this.

“He’s a sweetie, I love that kid.”

“You’ve met him?”

“He comes over a couple times a week, I school him in smash bros every time.”

He covered that gorgeous smile, laughing and turning over his shoulder to Todo before looking at me. His big brown eyes were shining with flecks of gold in the sunsets glow.

“Thanks for taking care of them..it’s not an easy task.”

“I think they’re good for me,”

I sighed, feeling the haziness settling in my eyes from the weed…maybe also from staring at the pretty emo boy.

“They remind me to not take shit so seriously all the time.”

We stared for a little too long in a sweet silence, I couldn’t help but take in all his features…I found my gaze darting to his lips and back to his eyes. He grinned, doing the same in response. Should I be doing this? That definitely ran through my head for a moment, but once he bit down on his bottom lip and looked out over the city again I felt myself pooling.

I reconnected my gaze to the horizon and puffed some more, my mind wandered to darker places..

“So what’s your favorite anime?”

“That’s a loaded question.”

I giggled, nodding in agreement.

“I’ve got time if you do.”

Spoken softly with a high smile, I peered to him from the corner of my eye. The blunt hung from his lips as he grinned, flashing me a similar look. We ended up getting into deep conversation about all our favorites and why they’re good in their own ways, all of which Todo was annoyed at. Mainly because he wanted us to play video games but we simply weren’t done discussing.

The sun had set, the chill of the night air began to nip at my skin sharply. I wasn’t sure when Todo had gone inside, but apparently we had been talking for a while. Thank god he left the door cracked at least, we trailed inside to escape the cold and to no surprise at all, Todo was passed out on the couch with some girly music mix playing semi-loudly on the tv. He could never hold his smoke, which is why I would usually give him a joint or a bowl instead of blunt or a dab. He must’ve been extra exhausted today.

We giggled at the sight, I pulled out my phone and snapped a quick picture, motioning a finger to my lips and a ‘shhh’ to Choso. He covered his mouth to muffle his laughter, I nodded my head for him to follow me down the hall. I led him to my room and closed the door behind us, finally letting out an audible laugh as I tossed my jacket onto my desk chair.

“I didn’t think he even smoked, I was surprised to see him with his own.”

“That is why he doesn’t often, he always passes out. I give him small stuff or a hit or two now and then when he’s in the mood for it.”

“Funny, that’s the first time I’ve ever smoked with him.”

“Have you not smoked with Yuji?”

“Yuji smokes?!”

“Oops.”

I covered my mouth as I stood with wide eyes.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that I guess.”

“I don’t care that he smokes, but I thought he’d at least come to me for it.”

“He brings his own over here and asks me to roll for him.”

“That little shit is stealing my weed.”

I erupted in laughter upon his realization, he shook his head and chuckled. I plopped down on my bed, the plush purple comforter poofing up slightly around me. I pat the spot next to be before reaching for the rolling tray and mason jar of weed on my nightstand. He gently took the seat beside me, our thighs a few inches apart, I got a whiff of his cologne when the blanket poofed around him. He smelled so fucking good…

He watched me quickly roll four more blunts and pass him one, dusting off my hands and putting the supplies back in their spot. He looked to me with a shocked expression.

“What?”

“You’re really good at that.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time a man’s told me that.”

I chuckled as I lit my blunt and passed him the lighter, once the smoke cleared I noticed the pink staining his cheeks.

“Should I be worried about your boyfriend walking in or something?”

He held the flame up, the warm glow illuminating his chiseled features.

“If I had one maybe. Kinda impossible when they find out I live with that muscle head.”

“Why’s that?”

“No one believes we aren’t fucking. Been that way since school.”

“And…you two haven’t?..ever?”

“God no, did he say otherwise?”

He shook his head profusely, worried he’d made an accusation that could get Todo in trouble.

“No, no. He told me you were pretty kept to yourself aside from training with him.”

“He say anything else?”

I leaned closer, peering into his doe eyes to question him further. He sucked in the smoke sharply as his eyes bounced from my chest to my face.

“Um, not that comes to my head..nothing bad..”

He stuttered as I studied him, my lashes fluttering at him innocently.

“What did you ask him about me?”

I grinned, reading him like an open book. His face turned red as he inhaled, coughing slightly as he released the smoke cloud.

“Just, who you are..stuff you like..”

“But you did ask him about me?”

I giggled, he looked nervous.

“Yeah..that okay?”

“Only if it’s okay that I asked about you too, a long time ago though.”

His anxiety eased and expression softened back into a half smile. He nodded his yes as he toked.

“How long ago?”

“When we moved in, I saw a few pictures of the three of you and I don’t know…you piqued my interest.”

“Any reason why?”

Fuck, alright. If living with Todo has given me anything it was confidence so let’s see where this goes, be smooth. I inhaled slowly before putting out the blunt. Leaning back against my headboard, I stretched my legs over Choso’s lap. As I exhaled I grinned and tapped my chin in thought.

“Hmmmm….dark hair, bedroom eyes, nice chains..I’m a sucker for a musician. Really if you just looked in the mirror it explains my type pretty well.”

He was looking down as his hand on my knee and smiling, smoke trailing from his lips. I swayed my knee side to side to pull his attention to my gaze.

“What about you?…What’s your type?”

His eyes connected with mine, he smiled and leaned over my body to put his blunt in the ashtray on the nightstand. His body hovering over mine he brought his face an inch away from my lips.

“Seems like you already know..”

His voice was low and hushed, my heart was racing.

“Can I be honest?”

I barely spoke above a whisper, his eyes trailed slowly along my features as he nodded.

“I want you.”

“Good.”

He cut off his own hushed tone by pressing his lips to mine sensually. He bit at my bottom lip lightly as his tongue found its way to my own, the fire inside me building rapidly. I pulled at his shirt, trying to bring him closer. He took the hint and placed himself between my legs, pushing them to the side with his knee as he leaned into me. He was muscular, but not overdone like his brother. A strong arm hooked under my waist brought my hips to his, his other hand quickly latched onto my throat as we feverishly nipped and kissed at one another. As he squeezed his fingers around my throat and the cold metal of his rings stung my flesh, a small moan escaped my lips.

He released my lips and chuckled, the pieces of his hair not tied back framing his face seductively.

“So you weren’t kidding about that?”

He squeezed tighter and watched my eyes roll back and my mouth fall open, he hooked a finger in my mouth and pulled my gaze to his, still tightly gripping my jaw and chin; his hands were massive. I whimpered at his dominant motions, his eyes piercing into my darkest desires.

“You think we’ll get in trouble for this?”

His husky tone paced with heavy breaths make me desperate for everything he was willing to give me.

“S’worth it if we do.”

He smiled devilishly and plunged his finger further into my mouth, I obediently sucked and swirled my tongue around it as he pulled it out slowly. He groaned at my actions, I felt him begin to rut against me as he kissed and nipped along my neck and down my chest. He made heavenly sounds in between light licks that trailed to my breasts. He lightly tugged at the already low neckline of my shirt, he watched my plush chest spring from the tight top, admiring the jewelry that adorned pretty pink buds. His tongue teased at them as his fingers pinched lightly at my flesh, I tangled my fingers into his hair and pulled him closer, attempting to hush my moans.

“..so pretty baby…”

His low and seductive voice hummed against my skin, sending cold chills through my body. His hands and lips continued to travel further down, he reached the waistband of my leggings and bit down on my hip, sucking and licking in a feverish attempt to leave a mark. He leaned back to review his work, satisfied and smirking at the purple mark he’d left behind. He chuckled and kissed it once more, mumbling under his breath.

“..mine now..”

He peered up to me as he hooked his fingers into my waistband, I lifted my hips for him to shimmy them down, leaving me in a pair of purple silk panties. I leaned up to grab at his shirt and yank it over his broad shoulders, feeling a little too exposed and alone. I took my top off the rest of the way after and pulled his face to mine once more, kissing him in a heated need. I pushed him backwards and fumbled with his belt, our hands both rushed to remove his pants as I realized he wasn’t wearing any underwear. His thick cock slapped up against his toned abdomen, the noise caught my attention as I pulled away from his lips. My eyes grew wide, I felt my face run hot and the pool between my legs increase. He chuckled and flipped his hair away from his face.

“Fuck…”

“You still want to?..I can eat you out if it’s too much…”

I connected my gaze with his, concern lacing his expression. I couldn’t help but smile bashfully and crawl into his lap, attacking his neck with sloppy kisses and bites.

“I need you Choso..”

I whispered as I nipped at his earlobe and rolled my hips against him. He groaned as his hands met my ass, squeezing and pushing me into him more, feeling the wetness that had already soaked my silk panties. His head rested in the crook of my neck as his voice vibrated against my skin.

“..fuck baby…mmm..need you so fucking bad…been teasing me since I got here..”

I giggled as his words, leaning back to peer down at him in all his glory.

“I knew you liked it..”

I rolled my hips against his pulsating member, precum soaking into the fabric of my panties. He groaned and bit his lip, eyeing me up and down as his hands roamed my body.

“Course I did..you’re fucking hot..can’t believe he gets to be the one to see you all the time…”

“Come visit more..”

Oh god, was I even sure what I meant by that? I definitely just confirmed that this wouldn’t be a one time thing..

“Yeah?..might have to..”

His lips attached to my chest again, fingers trailing down between us to my sopping core. I whimpered as he dipped below the thin fabric and plunged two fingers inside me, twirling them around my fluttering walls. I bit down on my lip and furrowed my brows, trying not to make much noise but he worked small moans and whines out of me rapidly.

“..so wet for me already…fuck…such a good girl f’me..”

“..Choso-O-o…ahh…please…”

“..please what baby?..”

I could hear the smirk in his voice as he fueled the fire in my core.

“..please fuck me..god I need you inside me…please…”

“..cum for me first pretty..wanna see you come undone…”

His thumb rubbed against my clit, shooting waves of pleasure through my veins. I rutted into his hand and whimpered as he bit down on my chest, his other hand attached to my throat and squeezed tightly. I clenched around his fingers as he pumped in and out of me, I couldn’t keep ahold of the knot inside me any longer. My eyes rolled back as my hips shook, I squirted into his lap and hand as his motions kept pace to ride me through my high.

“..god yes baby…that’s it keep going..fuck that’s hot..”

I began to whimper and whine at the overstimulation, he milked my juices from me aggressively causing another orgasm to take over my senses.

“..shit I need to be inside you..”

He tossed me backwards onto the mattress, propping one of my legs up on his shoulder and aligning himself at my entrance. He held my other thigh out, displaying my soaking cunt for his view. He licked his lips and rubbed his long, thick cock up and down my dripping folds collecting my wetness. He slapped my clit with the tip of his member, I squirmed and squeaked in pleasure to his delight.

“You ready pretty baby?”

God he sounded so fucking sexy, his voice raspy and lust drunk.

“Yes..please Choso..”

He smirked and began pushing himself into me, steadying himself with a hand gripping my thigh. I felt him stretching me, the pain mixing with pleasure made my eyes gloss over. I gasped and tried to grip at the sheets at the overwhelming sensation. He pressed a hand to my lower stomach, feeling himself bottom out inside of me as I panted and whimpered. He held himself there, throwing his head back and letting me engulf his throbbing member.

“..fuck you’re so tight…”

He slowly began moving, pushing in and out slowly as I clenched around him. Moans spilled from my mouth as his pace increased. He rhythmically thrusted into me, hair falling into his face as his mouth hung agape panting for air. Whimpers and low moans began to drip from his kiss swollen lips as he mumbled dirty praises.

“..oh my god baby…feels so fucking good..mmm…taking me so well..nnggh..”

“..cho-ooss-ssoo…mmmmm…”

I stuttered through his thrusts, his pace increasing rapidly as he chased his high.

“..you’re so fucking pretty…letting me stretch you out like this…mmmm…such a perfect little pussy..”

I have never been fucked like this..he was so vocal and showering me in filthy praise..all while pounding into my sweet spot so perfectly…everything about him was making me writhe in pleasure.

A hand attached to my throat while the other bruised perfect fingertips into my thigh, he was filling me up relentlessly. His grip was much rougher this time, the metal of his rings scraping against my skin as he choked me harder, I felt myself clenching around him tightly; my end nearing.

“..you love that don’t you baby?…I can feel how close you’re getting for me..”

“…s-so b-big..unngg…ch-chos…yes…yes…”

“..awe you’re taking me s’good pretty baby..c’mon you can handle a little more..we’re just getting started..”

He pumped into me furiously, my senses were fucked as my eyes rolled into the back of my head and I screamed in pleasure. His large hand quickly covered my mouth, he leaned down, my thigh now squished against my chest giving him a deeper angle as his pace slowed.

“..shhh..don’t wanna get us caught do you baby?…want me to fill you up right?”

I nodded profusely, he removed his hand and gripped my jaw tightly, an evil smile plastered across his face. Holy fuck he’s so hot…

“..I’ll make you scream my name next time I promise…bite..”

He placed his thumb in my mouth as he spoke, I gazed at him with a fucked out expression and did as he said. He had me in the palm of his hand, melted and ready to bend to his will. His paced steadily increased at the new angle, I wasn’t able to form words as my body quaked beneath him, another orgasm gushing from me. His darkness took over as he relentlessly pounded into me, my legs shook as I bit down harshly on his thumb, we were being drenched and I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. His own whimpers and moans became louder and strained as he spoke.

“…oh fuck…yeah baby just like that…ugnnh…fuck fuck…s’fucking wet…all f’me…hmmm…”

His arms wrapped around me, his chains dragging and bouncing across my chest as he rutted into me, face buried in my neck peppering sloppy kisses and rough bites.

“..pretty girl…mmm….gonna make you mine baby…”

I clenched around him, my legs going numb at the overstimulation.

“…fuck that feels so good…cum on my cock again baby girl…mmmm…make a mess for me…”

He pulled my hands up, pinning them to the pillows with one hand while the other trailed between us and rubbed skilled circles on my clit. I gasped and whimpered at his touch, my body shaking again. I could feel him throbbing inside of me as his thrusts became rushed and sloppy, I clenched around his pulsating cock, cumming for the fourth time.

“..mmmmm that’s my girl…”

He moaned as his brows furrowed and his breaths became sharp, soft whimpers escaping his lips.

“..Ch-chosoo…feels s’good..ah!..”

“..oh god baby I’m..fuck fuck….ohhhh!”

His steady pace became staggered as he pumped thick hot ropes along my walls, he whined and moaned as his hips twitched against me riding out his high. He slowed and collapsed on top of me, both of us sweaty and covered in cum. His strong arms wrapped around my petite form and held me tight as his placed gentle kisses along my chest trying to catch his breath.

“So…can I visit again soon..”

I giggled at his innocent mumblings, sounding much softer and bashful compared to a few moments ago. He peered up to meet my gaze questioningly.

“I wouldn’t mind, how long you give it before he finds out?”

“Surely a while, he’s not that smart. Long as you stay quiet.”

I pulled his grin to mine, tangling our lips together once more softly. He hummed into the kiss, his hand coming to cup my cheek and deepen the sensual moment.

“You make it hard to stay quiet.”

He chuckled and thrusted into me once more, causing me to moan, before pulling out of me completely. We both gasped and whined at the lack of sensation, taking careful breaths to regain our senses.

He rose to his knees, placing my thighs on either side of him as he began massaging my tender muscles and taking full view of the mess he’d made of me. He smirked and bit at his bottom lip.

“You’re so beautiful baby…”

I blushed at his sweet actions and gentle tone, he had flipped a switch quickly and the butterflies swarmed once more within me.

Once we were cleaned up, (as much as we could without a shower) we clothed ourselves and ripped the soaked comforter off my bed to toss in the wash later. He leaned back on the bed, I lit a blunt and crawled on top of him, placing it between his lips. He lifted the bottom of my baggy t shirt and toyed lazily with the waistband of my fresh panties as he inhaled and stared back at me.

“What are you thinking about?”

He slightly furrowed his brows at my love struck expression as he passed the blunt back to me.

“How pretty you are..how big your cock is…”

I giggled and toked away, thick clouds rising from my lips. He smiled and lightly smacked my ass.

“S’all yours babygirl, whenever you want me.”

“Whenever I want?”

“Anything for my pretty girl, whenever she wants.”

I put the blunt between his lips and peppered kisses down his neck, we both would have some marks to cover up this week..

“I like the way that sounds…”

“Good.”

———

We smoked the other two blunts and talked before realizing how late it had gotten…I offered for him to stay and sneak out to the couch, forgetting that Todo had fallen asleep there. Around 5am when our eyes got heavy, we exchanged a few last kisses and sweet words before tiptoeing out to the living room. As we came out the hallway entrance, the goddamned floorboards creaked again. A dim light was on in the kitchen, barely illuminating the towering form we both knew well. *flick* The overhead light came on, our heads snapped to the side in unison…caught. Todo was in his workout gear stirring a cup of tea and staring at us, an eyebrow raised and smirk growing. I sighed and dropped my shoulders, covering my face in embarrassment and bracing myself. Todo chuckled lightly before sipping his tea, letting us be tortured by this awkward silence for a few more moments..

“Go to bed. We have training in a few hours.”

I looked to Choso, sad I couldn’t kiss him one last time. He peered back to me with a similar expression, he lightly touched my hand as he turned towards the front door and took a step.

“Both of you.”

“What?”

Choso stopped and looked to me then his brother, confused.

“You should stay brother, it’s dangerous to drive after staying up so late.”

Todo sipped his tea casually, peering into us innocently. I couldn’t help but let a smile creep in, I extended my hand out to Choso. He looked a bit scared to take it, but did it anyways, cautiously eyeing down his brother.

“Thanks Todo..”

I mumbled as I began to pull Choso back down the hall.

“Keep it down…and use protection!”

Choso and I giggled and scoffed as Todo’s voice echoed down the hall.

-✨—✨—✨—✨—✨—✨—✨—✨—✨-

Okie dokie, hope y’all enjoyed😉❤️‍🔥

#choso x reader #choso kamo #jjk x reader #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso x y/n #choso x female reader #choso fanart #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #modern au #fanfiction #fanfic

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greensagephase · 3 months

Text

Nonviolent Communication - Part 12

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader Summary: An unexpected temporary change. Word Count: 24,291 Warnings: A building catches fire; someone falls; mention of injury Previous Part Masterlist Music Inspo (You can find the official Spotify playlist for the fanfic here ! It includes all the music I've listened to throughout the chapters for writing, including music for the one-shots, and some songs I decided not to include originally in the chapter posts. This was due to the romantic context they have and we're not at that point yet, but I was using them more for vibes if that makes sense? The lyrics are not relevant, not yet anyway.🤭) "Spider-Man" - John Paesano "Moving Forward" - John Paesano "Blue Moon" - Billie Holiday "Nonviolent Communication" - Metro Boomin, James Blake, 21 Savage, A$AP Rocky "Another Dimension" - Pop Money

Part 12

You sleep peacefully under warm covers in your once shared bedroom. Your arms are wrapped around a pillow, the one that used to belong to Peter. You once slept in a different position but ever since his death, your sleeping position changed. You began to hug his pillow at night, pretending that it was him because his scent was on it. Those days led to years and now, hugging a pillow is the only way you can sleep, even if the pillow has long ago lost the scent of its owner. Your head rests on the pillow, like how it used to rest on Peter’s chest at night when you laid in bed and talked about anything and everything in the comfort of your small apartment.

It’s how you lay now on the same bed you’ve had for years. You’re resting, peacefully and calmly. Sleep has a strong hold on you as you dream - of Peter. You sit in your living room and watch as he browses through your bookshelf, the old one. Your eyes scan it, noticing it’s in great condition. If anything it looks like it did when Peter was alive, almost brand new. He mutters quietly to himself as he searches, his fingers tracing the books’ spines, searching for a specific title.

“Found it,” Peter says before he turns around to face you, showing you the book by holding it up.

You smile at him from the couch as you catch his playful grin before he approaches you, and takes a seat next to you.

“We haven’t read this one in a while. I think it’s time. It’s winter after all,” he says as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, gently pulling you into his warmth.

“It is winter,” you confirm as you lean into his touch, into his body. You sigh softly, taking in his scent. You close your eyes for a few seconds, relishing it. It’s been so long but you know it so well - as if it were your own scent. It brings you so much comfort and peace, it reminds you that there’s another scent that incites those same feelings now. Miguel’s.

You open your eyes as Peter begins to read. His voice is gentle and warm, and his arm is still wrapped around you. You look at him and smile before looking around the apartment. You hear Peter but your mind still registers the mixture of the old and new decorations in the apartment. There’s the old bookshelf you had but the photographs on the wall are different. It’s small things like that. You turn away and snuggle closer to Peter, having to stop yourself from almost murmuring his name tenderly in response to the feel of his body, his warmth, his scent. Peter is really here with you. You’re together. Again.

You feel Peter’s arm gently tighten around your shoulders, caressing your arm in an affectionate way as he reads. You feel at peace sitting with him in your apartment.

“Wake up,” Peter says gently.

You sit still, listening to him read and letting the sound of his voice surround you, believing that his previous statement is part of the story.

“Wake up, love,” Peter says, forcing you to face him. His tone is still gentle but there’s an edge to it that wasn’t there before. “Please wake up.”

“What-Peter?” you ask softly, confused.

“Please wake up, love. You need to wake up.”

You look around, noting the urgency in Peter’s tone. “Peter, what’s happening?”

“I love you,” he whispers, leaning closer and pressing his forehead to yours. “Everything will be okay, darling.”

“Peter!”

You sit up in bed, gasping Peter’s name. You look around your bedroom, breathing rapidly. You swear you can still feel his warmth but it’s fading quickly.

“Peter,” you whisper in the darkness as you realize it was just a dream. You sigh heavily, trying to come to your senses. It has been a while since you dreamed about Peter and you can’t help but feel shaken up by the abruptness at the end. It was so sweet, like how it used to be when Peter was alive. Even in the darkness, you long to be back in your dream, if only to feel like that again - to feel and smell Peter, to hear his voice.

You rub your eyes gently, yawning and contemplating your dream for a few seconds when your spidey senses go off. You look around quickly, going still to listen intently for sirens - for chaos. You hear nothing. You get out of bed regardless, walking to your radio, the one that alerts you of emergencies. You wait for it, but before any feedback comes from the device, the smell reaches you first.

Smoke.

You sniff again because you believe that you’re mistaken and that the scent must be something else. Yet, smoke is all you can smell.

“Fire?” you whisper to yourself before you rush into your suit.

You change quickly and put your gizmo on before you check your apartment, finding nothing, so you slip out through a window to check what’s going. Your eyes widen when you see it, disbelief and shock hitting you at once when you discover that one of the floors is in flames. Your heart sinks at the sight.

“Wake up.”

You frown as you remember your dream, Peter’s words specifically. It couldn’t be, could it? Did he warn you somehow, or is it just your imagination? You fix your mask, pushing your thoughts away for now, before you launch into action. You quickly move to the main floor on fire, breaking a window and slipping inside. The change of temperature is instant. Outside, it’s cold, being the beginning of winter, but as soon as you’re inside, you feel the heat from the flames. The smell of smoke is stronger now, filling your nose. You call out for someone, eyes searching for civilians as you move through the flames. You hear someone scream, causing you to turn in that direction. You carefully make your way there, knowing you need to hurry before the building is engulfed in flames with the tenants inside.

You find your way and discover a young woman that looks familiar. Your brain tries to identify her but in the heat of the moment, you can’t.

“My friend! She’s inside the bedroom! I think she passed out from the smoke, please get her out!” the woman says, covering her nose from the smoke, with tears rolling down her face.

“I’ll get you out first!” you reply grabbing her arm and pulling her towards you. “Once I get you out, call the police! I don’t think anyone has called yet!” you order her, as you try to hear for sirens but fail to.

You shoot your web, securing her and lowering her down the building until she reaches the ground before you begin to search for the other person. It doesn’t take you long to find the person. A young woman lays on the bedroom’s floor, passed out. You quickly check for a pulse and after finding one, you carry her out of the building, carefully delivering her to her friend on the ground. The first woman notifies you that she has called the police and that they and firefighters should be on their way. You also notice a small crowd of random people have gathered, so you instruct them to stay back and to not enter the premises.

You glance at the building for a few seconds, praying that it doesn’t go up in flames completely. As you swing back to the building’s wall, you thankfully hear sirens in the distance. You slip inside through a window belonging to another apartment, not caring to startle the tenants as your main priority is to get everyone out now. You quickly evacuate the floor mainly affected before you move to the floor above and below. At this point several tenants have heard the commotion, making your job easier in quickly evacuating them. However, you realize not everyone comes out, so you enter apartments, calling out for tenants you’ve seen in passing over the years, and finding some of them scared and shocked by the circumstances, so much that they don’t realize they need to get out. You find other individuals still sleeping and unaware of the situation, and must wake them up. The process is hard for you as you have to ease people’s fright from not only waking up to a masked person, Spider-Woman, in their homes, but also from the news of the fire as the flames grow and spread.

As you safely deliver some people out of the building, you notice the firefighters and police have arrived. The police has secured the premises, keeping the gathered civilians from entering the building while firefighters move quickly to stop the fire. As you lead a civilian to safety, you can hear someone talking over a megaphone, trying to wake up tenants from the floors above, still unaffected.

“Spider-Woman!”

You turn, pausing just as you were about to lunge off the ground. You find a firefighter, realizing it’s the captain. You don’t recognize him, which leads you to believe he’s new.

“I have people working on putting out the fire, and others on evacuating. These people have told me you’ve been evacuating tenants. What about the floor beneath?” the man asks. “I need to know so we’ll know what floors need evacuation.”

You quickly tell him what you’ve covered, easing the man’s worries for the main floors affected now.

“I’ll evacuate the floors below,” you add as you realize the building could collapse and trap those tenants.

“Alright, some of my people are already on it. We’re also trying to wake up the people on the higher floors to start evacuating!” the man says a little louder just as another firetruck pulls up with their sirens on.

“Got it!” you state.

“Be careful!” the captain calls out before he, too, jumps into the scene.

With a nod, you turn towards the building, finding several people now looking out from their windows before disappearing into their apartments from the higher floors, including people from your own. That’s not the only thing you notice however, you also take notice of the flames and how they’re spreading.

“Everything will be okay, darling,” Peter said.

Peter’s words flash in your mind as adrenaline rushes through your body. You lunge back into action and evacuate more tenants from the lower floors. Thankfully this doesn’t take as long now that you have the help of the firefighters, which allows you to focus on the floors above. It’s there that you run into another full family - parents and children. So far you’ve only encounter roommates and spouses but very few families with children. Seeing them, you quickly decide to make a safety net out of your web. You quickly make it, extending it from one lamp post to another one, making sure it’s big enough for adults and that’s it’s secure. After reassuring the tenants that it’s safe, you help the family reach safety out of the building with the assistance of the firefighters. Your safety net turns out to be very helpful as you don’t have to carry out so many people.

You feel confident as you evacuate more people but the smoke becomes unbearable. It’s all you can smell and it makes your eyes tear up, almost making you lose your balance at one point.

“Y/N! Do you need backup?” you hear a voice.

Lyla.

You shake your head, blinking several times before you finally spot Lyla above your gizmo. “No. No need for backup. I got the situation cover.” You start moving again, your steps determine as you lead some tenants towards the end of the hallway. “Don’t tell anyone. Not Miguel. Jess. Peter B.. No one,” you tell her as you carefully lead the tenants out.

All you see is Lyla disappear before you focus on the task at hand. You get the tenants out before running back to search again. You offer help as you enter an apartment. You walk past the kitchen, already in flames. Even with the sound of sirens outside, you hear something spark, catching your attention. Your spidey senses warn you just before it blows up. You instantly cover your face and stumble backwards as flames jump at you.

🕸️🕸️🕸️

Your sweatshirt lays where it always rests - near Miguel. Your comforting scent fills Miguel’s lungs as he sleeps peacefully, no nightmares disturbing his sleep. Yet, he startles awake. His eyes search his dark bedroom immediately before he sits up slowly. He detects nothing, not even a sound from the city outside, but that doesn’t ease the strange sensation in his chest.

“Lyla,” Miguel calls out because he’s certain that something is amiss.

“Miguel,” Lyla says a second later, appearing in midair with a tone that Miguel recognizes all too well.

“What’s happening?” he asks, already out of bed with his suit halfway on.

“She said she didn’t want backup,” Lyla replies, causing Miguel to pause for only a second before he continues to slide on his gizmo.

“Who?” Miguel asks, but his heart already knows the answer. He can feel that this is why he woke up. It has to be.

“Y/N.” Lyla follows Miguel as he rushes out of his bedroom and into the hallway. He jumps from the top of the stairs to the first floor, clicking his gizmo hurriedly. “Her building caught on fire. It doesn’t seem too bad. Only a few floors so far. She has been helping the tenants out of the building while the firefighters are working to stop the fire from spreading. I asked if she wanted backup but she asked me not to,” Lyla explains. “I was going to tell you.”

“Mierda. You should’ve,” Miguel says looking at the portal that he’s opened.

“Miguel, I don’t think she wants help. She’s doing perfectly well on her own, so, just - let her do her thing and then we can check up on her,” Lyla says as she follows Miguel, who in his hurry, rips the portal open with his suit to reach your universe sooner.

“She’s not hurt, is she?” Miguel asks, stepping out onto a nearby rooftop. The sound of sirens immediately fills his ears and of course, there’s the bright light from the fire itself. Miguel’s red eyes scan it, noticing that four floors are in flames and it’s spreading to the fifth. There’s a large crowd of people on the street in their pajamas - a sight that makes Miguel feel empathy. A fire is disastrous enough but even more so when it takes place on such vulnerable moments like one’s sleep.

“She’s not hurt but she seems tired though. She’s been carrying people out and searching the building for tenants non-stop.”

“Ask her if she wants backup again but don’t tell her I’m here,” Miguel says softly yet sternly, respecting your choice of declining backup, even though everything in him is screaming to go and find you.

Lyla disappears with a nod. She appears again thirty seconds later with a frown that makes Miguel frown, too.

“She said no,” Miguel says and Lyla nods. Miguel sighs heavily. “Keep up with her. Alert me if she needs help, please.”

Miguel watches from the rooftop, even after Lyla disappears, as the firefighters run around trying to put down the fire. They scream at each other, giving directions and warnings as they move about. Scanning the scene, Miguel spots a web trap you set up on one side of the building. He finds another one near the fire stairs to help tenants land on it from the higher floors. The large group of people in their pajamas reassures Miguel that you should be done soon - that you’ll be out of danger shortly.

He’s so concerned about your well-being it only now truly hits Miguel that this isn’t a random apartment building but yours. Your apartment. The realization instantly makes him feel sorrow - your beautiful place, the one you redecorated only months ago might be lost, but more importantly, Miguel realizes all your precious belongings might be damaged if not completely burnt to ashes. He specifically thinks about your record player and vinyls, knowing how much they mean to you because of Peter. He wonders, if there’s a slight chance that you took them out already, but Miguel feels certain that you haven’t, and that you’ve focused on safely evacuating the tenants before securing your own belongings.

“Lyla.”

“She still doesn’t want backup. She’s moving through the fifth floor,” Lyla says just as Miguel sees figures from one of the floors - the fifth one - reach the fire stairs. He spots you as you reinforce the web trap before you talk to the tenants, possibly assuring them that it’s safe. The individuals jump off one by one, safely landing on your web trap before they’re assisted by nearby firefighters.

Miguel’s heart beats heavily as you disappear into the building again, immediately hidden by the smoke and flames. “Her belongings. Did she take anything out yet?” Miguel says, forcing himself to speak, trying to push down his worry.

“She hasn’t. She trusts the firefighters will stop the fire before it reaches her floor.”

“What about the tenants on the higher floors? Have then been evacuated?” Miguel asks.

“Yes. They’ve been evacuated but Y/N is making sure everyone is out of the building.”

“How is she doing? How many more people are in there?” Miguel asks as he stands on the edge of the rooftop. He hasn’t even noticed it but he has been extracting and retracting his talons the entire time, anxiously.

“I’ll check.”

Miguel nods, standing alone as he watches the firefighters put out the fire on one side of the building, trying to contain it.

You push doors and enter apartments, quickly but efficiently checking for any civilians that may be in danger. You try to keep your head low to avoid inhaling smoke, which not only makes your eyes water but also makes you want to cough as you breath some of it in. You call out, offering help. There are no voices, yet you still check to make sure no one stays behind. You walk down the hallway, almost losing your balance from a large gap on the floor destroyed from the flames beneath. You tell yourself to be more careful and to avoid the smoke, as it’s blocking your vision. After regaining your balance, you look down and see the flames consuming the floor below. You make a jump for it, securing yourself with web just in case the floor gives out once you land. Fortunately, it doesn’t.

You step into another apartment, offering help. Your eyes scan the space hurriedly as you yell out for anyone. You’re so concerned about not leaving anyone behind that you fail to notice a loose wooden board hanging behind you as your eyes search the apartment. You look around, coughing a little due to the smoke before the board falls on you - hitting you on your shoulder. You wince, taking your shoulder and putting pressure on it to ease the ache that was left from it. You search room after room before you return to the hallway, making your way into another apartment. You enter it quickly, checking a bedroom and finding no one, before you go into the living room where you surprisingly fall through the floor and onto the one below.

You grunt softly as you feel the impact of the fall. Still on the ground, you look around and realize you’re lucky that you didn’t fall straight into flames but instead into a small pocket of space that has been spared from the flames - for now.

“She just fell through the floor but seems unscathed,” Lyla reports to Miguel.

He nods, concern etched on his face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, she’s up now and searching the floor one last time.”

Miguel nods, eyes narrowing. His talons keep retracting and extracting unconsciously. It’s been a few minutes since he saw you come out through the fire stairs with a family. He silently hopes you get out of the building soon. His nerves have not settled down at all, even as he has been watching the firefighters work relentlessly to stop the spread of the fire.

“Anyone here?!” you call out as you cough out, knowing that the fifth floor has been cleared up.

“Here!”

You turn as you hear a masculine voice.

“Over- here!” the man says, his tone indicating pain.

You make your way to them as quickly as possible, crawling whenever you can to avoid the smoke. You come across a yellow suited person. A firefighter. You reach them quickly, realizing that they have debris over their legs.

“Spider-Woman,” the firefighter says as he realizes it’s you.

“I’m going to lift this off you, okay? Is that alright?” you ask them as you prepare to lift the debris off them.

“Yes - I think I have a broken leg,” the firefighter tells you.

You nod, feeling bad for the man before you gently lift the debris off them to avoid any more injuries.

“Okay, okay. I’m going to drag you to the nearest window - we need to get you out of this smoke,” you tell him.

“We both need to get out of this smoke,” he says, grimacing. “We can request a ladder from the window.”

“Alright, tell me if I’m hurting you,” you reply as you move around and position yourself. You lift him up from his underarms, your hands meeting in front of his chest to drag him, hoping you don’t meet with flames as you move. Your eyes water but you push through it as you spot a window. You move faster, avoiding injuring the firefighter.

“Ladder!” you yell out and thankfully, there’s a ladder on the floor below that quickly moves up to meet you. “Firefighter injured! Possibly a broken leg!” you inform the firefighter on the ladder.

“That’s Samuel! I was looking for him! Here!” the other firefighter responds as they set up to help you.

As a team, the non-injured firefighter and you lower Samuel down the ladder. Your sticky powers come in aid as you hold Samuel’s weight so the other firefighter doesn’t carry his weight alone. At last, the three of you reach the ground where other firefighters help with Samuel, taking him away to receive treatment.

“Is that everyone, Spider-Woman? We didn’t find any other tenants,” a woman says.

“I checked the fifth floor, there was no one else. Everyone else from the upper floors should have evacuated earlier but I’ll do one quick sweep,” you reply as your eyes scan the fire. It seems to be dying now thanks to the firefighters’ efforts but you still can’t find peace. Not until the flames are fully gone. You nod to the firefighters before you swing back to the building, hoping once again that your building, the one that you’ve lived at for years, won’t completely burn down.

You check every floor, thankful that the flames have not reached this point of the building. You can smell the smoke on yourself as you check every apartment to make sure that no one has stayed behind. As you search, you can’t help but feel sorrow. It seems that the firefighters are isolating the fire but even then, you’ve assisted in enough fires and know that the building will be inaccesible for a few weeks, if not months, depending on how fast an investigation is done to find the reasoning for the fire. It also depends on how soon the landlord starts with the cleaning and rebuilding.

You sigh deeply as you push through a door and search. You suddenly remember a conversation from weeks ago, making you pause in someone’s living room. Your memory connects the first woman you saved and her friend to New Year’s Eve. You sigh again but this time upset. You recall seeing the two women that evening when you were leaving the building at the same time to visit your loved ones at the cemetery. You move around the apartment, remembering that one of the women asked the other one if they had unplugged their Christmas lights. They didn’t. That reminds you of the fact that your landlord passed out a notice asking all tenants to avoid leaving the holiday lights plugged all day to avoid a short circuit last month. You silently wonder now if this fire was due to an overloaded socket, if this is an electric fire.

Finding no one in the apartment, you move to the next floor. You check the floor quickly and move to the next until you reach your floor. You check every apartment and then yours, even though you know there should be no one there. You move on to the next floors and thankfully, there are no tenants left inside. You notify the firefighters who tell you the fire has ceased at last. You linger around for a few minutes, hearing the worries and complaints of tenants - all worried about their housing situation. After hearing the firefighters inform tenants that no one can enter the premise until it can be ruled out that this isn’t a crime scene, you retreat silently and enter the building again undetected.

You find yourself in your apartment, standing in the middle of your living room, silently thinking about how you won’t be able to be here for some time. You allow yourself a few minutes before you begin to collect some items. The first items you collect are Peter’s record player and all the vinyls. You take them to your bed, deciding to make your bed the collecting place. You return to the living room, focusing on the photos on your wall. Once they’re collected, you move to the bookcase where you get Peter’s belongings, like his books and other small decorations. You also remember to retrieve photo albums storing photos from all the way to your childhood to the last years with Peter. Lastly, you pick up technological devices like your laptop and the tablet Miguel gifted you for Christmas from his universe from the living room.

At last, you focus on your bedroom, heading to the closet immediately. You quickly locate a plastic file organizer that contains important legal documents belonging to Peter and you. The two of you were prepared just in case something like this ever happened since neither of you wanted to lose important documents in a rush due to a fire or some other emergency.

You open the file organizer slowly, spotting a passport. You pick it up and open it. Peter’s photo greets your eyes and despite yourself, you stare at it for a few seconds. You briefly remember going together to renew it for a trip the two of you took years ago and how excited he was about it. The passport is still valid, leading you to silently wonder about the many trips the two of you would’ve gone on if everything was different. Smiling, you shake your head and place the passport back, zipping the file organizer back to avoid losing anything.

You look around your bedroom, not sure where you’ll be staying at yet. You grab your favorite tote bag, the one that Miguel gifted you this past Christmas, and place the file organizer in it. You search your bedroom and start putting other items into the bag. Your mind is concerned about the stability of the building. What if it collapses? This thought keeps running through your mind as you retrieve Peter’s box, the one that contains all of his clothes and other belongings you packed away. There’s no way you’re leaving his belongings behind and possibly losing them.

You bring the box to the bed, placing it next to the tote bag before you retrieve other items. Once you have a pile of items, you fetch a carry-on to pack everything in.

You search your apartment one more time, making sure you’re not leaving anything of sentimental value - anything that belonged to Peter or your parents. Finding nothing else, you begin to pack your belongings in the carry-on. As you pack, you finally start to think about where you’ll be staying. This situation is most likely going to last for a few weeks, if not months. You’re certain the fire started because of an electrical issue. The building is, after all, on the older side, and there was that notice from your landlord back in December. It seems to add up. However, even if the fire is deemed an electrical fire and there’s no need for a longer investigation, the cleaning and rebuilding of the building might take months unless your landlord miraculously pulls it together somehow. You can only hope but for now you have to figure out where you’ll be staying.

“Hotel,” you say to yourself as you remember the plan Peter and you came up with. The plan used to be your parents and Aunt May’s place but with them gone, it changed to a hotel. You sigh softly as you carefully pack your belongings, trying to avoid any damage to the sensitive items like the records. Your spidey senses suddenly go off again, causing you to turn.

“Please tell me you’re not actually considering staying at a hotel,” Miguel says softly as he comes in from the living room, hoping not to startle you. “You’re more than welcome to stay at my place.”

“Miguel,” you say gently as he approaches you, stopping near you but keeping enough distance to give you space.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his tone filled with concern. His eyes search your body, even in the barely lit room, trying to find any sign of injury. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m okay. At least, I think so,” you answer. “Nothing hurts.”

“Good. I’m relieved to hear that. I wanted - to help you, but Lyla said you didn’t want backup.”

“Lyla…” you say, narrowing your eyes as you remember declining backup and asking her not to tell Miguel or anyone else. “She told you.”

“No. She didn’t. I actually…” Miguel looks away for a few seconds. “I think I sensed it somehow. I woke up on my own and had this… feeling. When I asked her what was happening, that’s when she told me. I traveled here immediately but watched from afar, just in case you wanted backup,” Miguel says quietly, not quite sure what to make of this fact in the moment. All he cares about is that you’re unhurt, or at least it seems that way. He’ll be making sure of it once you both reach Nueva York, or somewhere far safer with better lighting.

You smile softly at the fact that Miguel somehow sensed your situation despite the fact that he doesn’t have a spidey sense. You stare at each other in the darkness of the room, thinking about that special connection between the two of you. Neither of you understand it, nor have addressed it since the day you told Miguel how you knew he was in trouble back in the spring when he came face to face with a variant of the Green Goblin and he was stranded on Earth-42, and he was injured. Despite not talking about it, the two of you have thought about it. Sometimes you wonder how is it possible but regardless, you feel comforted by it. As to Miguel, he used to find it both comforting and fearful, though these days when he thinks about it, he finds himself no longer feeling afraid of that bond and what it means. He’s embraced this connection - this bond - as the months have passed.

“I see. Well, thank you for coming and for respecting my decision about backup,” you tell him softly.

Miguel nods, looking at you. “Always,” he replies, knowing deep inside of him that he’ll always show up for you and respect your decisions. “You were - amazing,” he adds quietly.

You smile warmly, feeling a bit of heat in your cheeks thanks to Miguel’s compliment, but also because it reminds you of the times Peter used to tell you the same thing when he saw footage of you on the news. You blink softly, pushing the memories away for now.

“I was - okay, but thank you. I’m just glad no one was seriously hurt,” you reply, turning away and continuing to pack.

Miguel frowns. Did he say something wrong?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says, softly.

You pause and turn to face him. “What - no. You didn’t. I’m sorry,” you whisper even though there’s no need to. There’s no else in the apartment, or even in the building. “Your words didn’t upset me. Seriously, thank you. It means a lot coming from another Spider person - coming from you,” you say with a warm smile, pausing to make sure that Miguel understands his words didn’t upset you. “Believe me. It’s just - I have Peter on my mind. I mean, he’s always there, you know? But tonight, with this fire - and collecting his items - he’s even more present in my mind right now, and your words… He used to tell me things like that when he saw me in action. I’m just feeling a little… sentimental.”

Miguel nods, understanding, yet also feeling relieved that he didn’t upset you with his words. “I see. I’m sorry that Peter…” he starts but is unable to finish as his mind runs with thoughts. If Peter was alive, Miguel is sure the two of you would’ve been packing together right now. Knowing how organized you are, Miguel imagines that the two of you had some plan in action for these kinds of emergencies. Instead, you’re here on your own packing Peter’s belongings because he’s no longer here. “I wish things were different,” he says at last, wanting to say more but not sure he should due to the sensitive circumstances.

You nod softly. “Thank you. It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay,” you reply, the last statement feeling sweet in your mouth as you recall Peter telling you that in your dream.

Miguel nods and watches as you pack, feeling admiration that even in this moment you seem so put together. “Always,” he answers quietly before he looks at your belongings. “Is this everything you’re taking? I can help take some of these items out to another rooftop, somewhere far from the building to avoid civilians’ eyes. We can open a portal from there.”

You look at him, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“You’re not actually going to a hotel, are you? There’s Gabriel’s room, empty. You can stay there for as long as necessary. Until the building is deemed safe for living.”

“Miguel, that might mean that-” you start but Miguel shakes his head, and lifts his hand up, asking you to stop because he knows where you’re going with this.

“It might mean that you stay there for weeks, or even months. I know the process can be tedious and long in these situations. That’s why you can’t stay at a hotel. Not when you have options. Please, you’ll be far more comfortable there.”

You pause your packing and stare at the items on your bed, contemplating. Accepting Miguel’s offer would mean staying with him for at least a few weeks. That would entail taking some of his privacy away. You briefly think about the fact that neither of you have lived with someone in a while, especially you. There’s also the fact that you wouldn’t be sleeping here, in your universe, for so long - a thought that makes you a little sad.

“It’s not a problem for me,” Miguel starts, noticing your silence but sensing your internal debate. “You will not be invading my privacy. You’ll have your own space and I won’t bother you. Just - think about it. At least for tonight, stay there.”

You turn to him with a raised eyebrow. “Did you just say you won’t bother me? That’s not even something I’m worried about.” You shake your head softly, and despite everything, laugh a little, a sound that makes Miguel grin in the dim lit bedroom. “I’m concerned about the fact that I’d be sleeping in another universe for more than a few days. About invading your space. I don’t want to intrude and be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden. You could never be…” Miguel says gently, silently wondering why you’d think that. “We are… You know what we are.”

You nod slowly. “Yes… I know,” you whisper. You sigh after a few seconds and nod again. “Okay, just for a little bit - a few days.”

“Or, a few weeks. Months, if necessary. Unless you’re not comfortable at my home,” Miguel says quietly with a bit of a frown.

“It’s not that. I just - you’re used to your space, and I’m used to mine,” you answer quietly. “Neither of us has - you know - it’s been a while since either of us has shared our space with another person.”

Miguel nods, understanding what you mean, yet, he thinks back to the last spring when he was injured.“I know, but I think it’ll be okay. We’ve - kind of done it before.”

You stare at Miguel in surprise, realizing that he’s right. You’ve stayed at his home before and those days felt - normal, almost right. You both fell into a routine very quickly. Yet, you can’t help but think that after a few days of staying there, your presence might disturb Miguel’s routine.

“Don’t overthink it. If you’re not comfortable for whatever reason, then we can figure something out but please,” Miguel says.

You finally nod, because the man before you has been offering way too many times now for you to keep refusing, and besides, you’d feel better there than at a hotel room on your own.

“Okay, but if you need me to leave, please let me know, okay?” you ask.

Miguel nods, though he’s biting back from telling you that he would never do such a thing to someone who has found themselves in this situation, even less to you. However, Miguel refrains from voicing this thought because he doesn’t want to add stress to your already stressful morning.

“Alright... Is this everything you’re packing? For now, at least? We can come back later and retrieve more items.” Miguel looks around for a few seconds. “Honestly - we could take all your furniture and store it on one of the lower floors, just in case. That way nothing happens to your belongings.”

You shake your head gently at him, yet feel appreciation for the offer. “That’s not necessary. I don’t mind if something happens to this furniture. I hope not because that would mean the other tenants would lose their belongings, but I’m not as attached as I was to the old furniture, so I don’t mind. I have everything I want to save right, just in case. So, it’s alright, really,” you reply softly with a small smile.

“If you’re sure - if not, my offer stands. I’m sure if we get the whole group, we could get everything out in no time. I mean it,” Miguel says. “It would be no problem. Just think about it, okay?” he says gently, wanting to be as helpful as possible without pushing too much, though all he wishes to do is help you and be there for you for who he is - your friend. “Alright, I’ll help you with this bag and box. You can hold on to the record player, “ Miguel offers, knowing how much Peter’s record player means to you.

You nod and finish packing. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. After dropping everything off I’m coming back to see if anyone needs help. I hope you don’t mind me returning a bit later.”

“Of course not. I know there may be emergencies during the night, so you’ll need to go in and out. I understand. Don’t worry about it, okay?” Miguel replies and you nod, grateful. “Have you packed clothes, at least a few changes?”

You stop, realizing. You hadn’t even thought of that since you were more concerned with keeping Peter’s belongings and other sentimental items safe first. “I haven’t, let me do that really quickly.”

You find another travel bag, the one that you used back when you stayed at Miguel’s place when you were looking after him, and begin packing. In a matter of minutes you put it together, packing clothes for at least a week before you pack your personal hygiene products. At last, you have everything you think you’ll need. Miguel picks up Peter’s box and two travel bags as the two of you get ready to leave.

You thank him again as you pick up the other items and head to the window both of you entered the apartment through. Before slipping out, the two of you pause at the window, taking in one last glance - silently thinking that you’d like to see it one last time, just in case. The two of you exit the apartment before you close the window with a heavy pang in your chest. You hope that you’ll only be away for a few weeks, and not months from your little apartment but only time will tell. You follow Miguel, holding on to your belongings. You check very quickly to see what’s going on outside your building, wondering how many of your neighbors are still there. You notice that the crowd has become smaller, and some people are taking cabs.

About a minute later, you both land on a rooftop. Miguel opens a portal and gestures for you to go first. You do so, but not without another glance. You’ll be back in a few minutes to check on the situation but for now, you head to Nueva York - the only other dimension in the entire multiverse that feels somewhat like home.

You step out into Miguel’s living room, carrying your record player like it’s gold. You move out of the way for Miguel to step out before he gestures for you to follow him, leading the way.

“Come on,” Miguel says softly. “Let’s get you settled in.”

You follow him up the stairs and into the hallway, carrying your items. Miguel pushes the door open to Gabriel’s old room, and you’re back once again to this bedroom. You can’t help but feel nostalgia as you enter the room. It’s been many, many months since you stayed the night ever since Miguel was injured. You quickly get reacquainted with the bedroom, finding comfort in it. There’s the bookshelf with some books about science and repairing and as always, everything is clean and organized.

“I washed the bedding earlier this week but we can wash it again tomorrow if you want,” Miguel says as he places the box carefully on the floor, not sure what’s exactly in it. “Or, if you prefer, we can bring your bedding and take this one off so you’re more comfortable with your own later. I don’t mind it at all. Whatever feels more comfortable to you,” Miguel says taking the bag you’re holding from you and placing it on a desk. “Just - I want you to feel comfortable and - at home,” Miguel says softly, quietly. “So, feel free to use the room however you need. If you want to decorate it while you’re here… You can.” Miguel stares at the bed for a few seconds, silently wondering if he’s being too much by telling you to decorate the bedroom if you wish to. He’s not even sure if you want to stay for more than a few days after how long it took him to convince you because for some reason you think you’re going to be a burden.

You smile warmly at Miguel as he turns his gaze from the bed to you. “Thank you. I really appreciate it, truly. I was - I want to apologize for earlier,” you start. You meet his gaze, hoping he can see the sincerity in your words. “I’m not uncomfortable being here. At all. I just don’t want to disturb your peace. Your space. I hope I didn’t come off as rude when I kept declining your offer. I really do appreciate you letting me stay here. It means so much to me. Thank you, Miguel.”

After a nod, Miguel offers you a small smile. “Always,” he answers, still meeting your gaze and holding it. Your words linger in his head, the sincerity in them reaching his heart. He knows you were not trying to be rude, but that you really believe, for some unknown and odd reason to him, that you’ll be disturbing him somehow. He’s especially caught up in the words you said just now - how you don’t want to disturb his peace and space - and thinks to himself about how this penthouse only truly feels peaceful and homey when you’re here.

That’s not to say that there isn’t peace in this space. There is, only it’s a different kind, an unpleasant one. It’s from the lack of other people in the living space. It’s a kind of peace that Miguel can only describe as lonely. It’s one he’s known for many years.

He thought he was used to this peace prior to his short life in Gabriella’s universe, but Miguel has learned, twice now, that he might never truly feel used to it. He’s still not used to it, even though he finds himself in it often on evenings when he’s back here from HQ. It’s not until recently that he has found a way to make that lonely peace fade a little, and that’s through the record player you gifted him for Christmas. It’s through the music from your universe and the scratching of the vinyl that Miguel manages to push away that unpleasant peace that gnaws at him.

On those evenings, the penthouse feels more welcoming to him, and not so cold and foreign. He never thought something so simple would help, but then again, Miguel never thought a piece of fabric with your scent on it and the sound of your breathing would help him get proper sleep either. Miguel has learned to accept it, to embrace it really, so he plays the record player and listens to the music from your universe, sometimes feeling like he’s not even home but at your apartment - at your universe - as he works. It’s how he tranquilizes that lonely peace in those hours, how he suppresses that gnawing feeling.

While the record player provides a temporary relief, Miguel has noted that the only time that feeling is truly gone is when you're there, at his penthouse.

You fill the penthouse with a warm and comfort that Miguel only used to feel when Gabriel lived with him and when Miguel lived in Gabriella’s universe. You bring a warm peace that he only felt with Gabriel and Gabriella, and now with you.

Miguel clears his throat, reminding himself that the two of you are still standing here in your apartment, and that you're still smiling warmly at him. He feels tempted to tell you all his thoughts from just now, but it’s still too soon, and his thoughts are so vulnerable.

“You won’t be disturbing me. I promise,” Miguel says softly, opting for that simple and straightforward answer as he looks away, trying to think of what else he can do to make you feel welcomed before he continues speaking. “Is there anything I can get you? Are you hungry or - actually, are you sure you’re not hurt? Lyla told me you fell through one of the floors. Does anything hurt?” he asks, frowning deeply as his eyes turn back to you, searching your face and suit for any indication of cuts, bruises, or blood.

You smile fondly at him as you recognize the concern on his face. “I feel alright. I didn’t get hurt when I fell. I just feel a little sore now,” you reply as you place your mask on the desk. You can still smell the smoke on yourself, which makes you wish for a shower now, but you have yet to return to your universe and make sure your help is no longer needed.

“I’ll get you some painkillers and water,” Miguel says as he watches you place your mask on the desk for now.

“I appreciate that. Thank you.” you say softly as you rub one of your eyes. You can feel the exhaustion begin to kick in so you grab your mask again. “I need to get going. I can feel my body begin to relax.”

“Have some water first,” Miguel says. “C’mon. It will freshen you up and then you can go back.”

You follow Miguel back downstairs to the kitchen where he fills a glass with water and offers some painkillers. He watches as you take them, relieve that he can look after you in a small way at least.

You finish the water and give him a grateful smile. “Thank you. I didn’t know I needed that until now.” You stretch slightly after you place the glass on the counter. “Alright, let me go back. I’ll be back in a few. Thank you for - everything,” you say softly as you hold on to your mask.

Miguel nods with a soft smile. “Always... Be careful. if you need anything - let me know, please.”

You nod gently. “Will do. I’ll see you in a bit.” With that, you head back to your universe, leaving Miguel in the kitchen.

Upon arriving to your universe, you head to your building. The smoke has died down by the time you reach it. The police cars and firetrucks are still there, securing the area. Some tenants linger, figuring out what to do now in the middle of the night. You assist them as best as possible and offer additional help to the firefighters, learning through the captain that the firefighter that you helped earlier sends his gratitude and will recover successfully from his injuries.

It’s not until an hour later that you return to Miguel’s universe. You step out into the living room, finding Miguel standing near the windows. He's staring out at the city in silence, still wearing his suit, as if he’s been ready just in case you needed his assistance.

Upon hearing your arrival, Miguel turns around and faces you. His eyes search your body once again, scanning for any injuries but he finds none.

You greet him with a small smile, definitively feeling tired now. You stare back at him as he looks at you, not surprised he’s still awake despite the time it is. “Sorry it took me a while, I got caught up.”

Miguel shakes his head. “It’s alright. Don’t worry about it. You must be tired,” he says, his eyes searching your face.

“Yes, a little bit. It’s… wow. It’s now past six,” you say, realizing. You also realize you need to shower since you still smell like smoke. “I really need a shower.”

“Go ahead. I’ll be down here. There’s clean towels in the bathroom, but if you need anything, please let me know,” Miguel says quietly.

“Thank you! Are you - Are you not tired?” you ask, wondering if Miguel will get back to bed, at least to catch half an hour of sleep before he heads to HQ.

Miguel smiles softly and shakes his head. “No. I’m not tired, but you must be. Shower, and I’ll have something for you to eat. Then you can sleep.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. Breakfast, I mean. I’ll…” you trail off, realizing your routine is going to be different for a little while. You look at Miguel and smile sheepishly, which makes him grin in amusement.

“Your routine is going to feel off for a few days but - I believe you’ll fall back into it again, which reminds me…” Miguel starts, meeting your gaze. His grin dissipates, amusement placed to the side for the time being because what he wants to tell you is serious. “I told you earlier that I want you to feel at home. I mean it. I know it’s going to be a little different. You’re not only going to be in a different environment from your own but in an entirely different universe. If you decide to stay here, of course,” Miguel says, still unsure of your thoughts on this.

You were reluctant earlier, and for all he knows, you’re only interested in staying here for a few days, even if he hopes for the opposite. “I’ve offered for you to stay here for as long as you need. It can be a few days, a few weeks, a few months…” Miguel says trailing off, almost saying you could stay here for years if you wanted to, but he stops just in time before he actually says it because you might find it strange that he’d be okay with this.

In fact, Miguel realizes right now that he’d be perfectly happy with it, which makes his cheeks feel hot. He clears his throat gently. “What I’m trying to say is that - My home is your home,” Miguel continues, his eyes still meeting yours. His gaze has been unwavering the entire time, hoping that he drives home his offer and that you understand that you're not a burden. “Whatever you decide to do, I’ll be there for you and respect it, just know you’re welcomed here. Please don’t feel like you’ll be a burden as you said earlier. You’re not,” he says much more softly. “I don't know how long you'd like to stay here. You don’t have to decide that now in this instant, but I do want you to know that whether you stay a day or months, you can use the penthouse however you want to. If you want to read in the living room like you always do back in your universe, or if you want to randomly bake cookies at 10am or 9pm, you can. If you want to use one of the offices, you’re more than welcomed to. Same as the laundry room -” Miguel pauses, thinking that maybe he’s overdoing it. He scratches his neck softly, his eyes moving away for a few seconds before they return to you. “I just want you to know that you don’t need to be limiting yourself or, feel like you need permission, or something like that. In any way. My home is your home.”

You nod gently, feeling appreciation and gratitude towards Miguel. There’s also tenderness swirling in your mixture of feelings. Here he is telling you his home is your home.

“And also - I know,” Miguel says with a small shrug and an apologetic smile, but he has been thinking about all of these things while you've been away. And, Miguel knows you very well. “You don’t have to worry about groceries or anything like that. Unless it’s something that can only be acquired from your universe, then yes, but otherwise, don’t worry about it, okay?” Miguel says, staring intently at you with his hands on his hips now.

“About bills-” you start.

“Nor about paying bills. Or rent,” Miguel says lifting his hand, and pointing at nothing in particular, a signal that he had that on his mind as well. Miguel mentally runs through his list of points. While he waited for updates from Lyla about you, he thought of these details. He thought about how your daily routine will feel off for a few days and how you’ll probably want to pay for staying here. Miguel stares at you, noticing you want to debate this. “Please. I know that if it was me, you’d do the same,” Miguel adds softly, hoping to make you see his side. His words, Miguel notices, seem to hit home because he sees the shift in your eyes.

You nod once more and sigh softly. You shake your head at him, a small smile forming on your face. The exhaustion is hitting but you still find it in yourself to smile to him. “You know me - too well,” you say quietly because his words have struck home. Miguel is absolutely right. If it was him in your situation, you’d be telling him the exact same things down from asking him not to worry about bills nor groceries, and about making himself at home at your apartment. You’d be trying to be as helpful as possible, to comfort him as much as you can. A part of you still wants to discuss some of these points, but you decide to leave it for later.

Miguel’s eyes lit up as he sees your small, tired but nonetheless sweet smile. He feels like he has finally made his point after all his talking with just a few words. Miguel returns the smile. “I’ll be making breakfast while you shower. If you need anything - at all - just tell Lyla and she’ll let me know. Don’t worry about anything else for now,” Miguel says and nods to the stairs, as if silently asking you to go on.

You nod and give Miguel a playful grin that fills his chest with warmth.

“Alright, I’m going to go shower. I’m probably stinking up your penthouse like smoke,” you say, nodding to the stairs. “Before I go though - I just want to thank you for everything, Miguel. I truly appreciate it,” you utter softly, your tone filled with sincerity and gratitude.

Miguel nods gently, his lips curling into a soft smile. “Always.”

You smile back at him and nod.

“Go on. I’ll be down here. Let me know if you need something, alright?”

“I will, thank you,” you reply softly, still smiling at him. You give him a nod, and with that you, you head upstairs.

You enter Gabriel’s bedroom, finding your belongings more organized than you left them. You also notice that Miguel has added another blanket, a fuzzy one.

You gather everything you need for your shower, including a change of clothes. Before you exit the bedroom, you pause at the door and look out the window. The sun is already making its way up in Nueva York. You grin softly before you head to the bathroom to shower at last. You shower quickly and do everything you need to after your shower, dressing into comfortable clothes. You hope not to sleep all day but you recognize your body is tired and needs to rest for a bit. Besides, you have a feeling that Miguel might get on to you if you don’t, which you find endearing.

You head back downstairs once you’re done, feeling clean and fresh. You mentally tell yourself to wash your suit once you wake up. It’s one of the many things you’ll need to do. You start thinking about setting up your room for the time being and about the little things you’ll have to do back home, like taking out the food from the fridge that will go bad if it hasn’t already, since you’re certain the fire was an electrical one considering there was no power when you were evacuating civilians out of the building. There’s also your laundry, and other small things of the sort to think about. You silently think about creating a list as you finally reach the kitchen.

Miguel turns at the sound of your footsteps. He notices the look on your face, the one you get when you’re lost in thought, and he’s sure you’re already thinking about the many things you wish to do.

“We’ll get things sorted out,” Miguel says softly as you take a seat at the counter at last. He notices the little sigh that escapes past your lips and the way you slightly lean on the counter to get some relief. He thinks about how you’ve been on your feet since you woke up; swinging, crawling, and carrying people nonstop. The closest you got to a break was when you took the painkillers and drank water.

Miguel is sure that now that you’ve showered and you’ve sat down, that all your aches and exhaustion will truly begin to surface. “Eat some breakfast. Rest. And then, we can do everything that needs to be done, alright?” he adds, as he places two glasses in front of you. One with orange juice and the other with water, opting not to offer you coffee right now so you'll rest properly.

You nod and give him a tired smile. “Alright. Thank you, truly,” you say quietly as you grab the glass with water since your mouth feel a little dry. You chug it down gently, finding relief, before you set it back down.

Miguel takes the glass and refills it for you before placing it back and checking on the stove. He stirs the food he's cooking, making it the only noise that fills the space. You don’t know what Miguel is cooking, but whatever it is, it smells fantastic and makes your mouth water. You drink more water as Miguel cooks, his back to you. You close your eyes for a bit, feeling the need to close them.

“Hey, how are you doing?”

You open your eyes and find Lyla. She floats near your face with a concerned look on her face, so you offer her a smile. “I’m alright, thank you. What about you?”

“I’m well, thanks. Glad to hear you’re okay,” Lyla replies with a little grin, though her eyes still show concern. “You did well.”

“Thank you. Also… thank you for respecting my wish and not telling Miguel,” you quietly tell Lyla though you’re sure Miguel is not even listening as he opens cabinets to get some items out.

“You got it, boss. I would’ve told him if I saw that you were in danger but,” Lyla pauses with a proud smile. “You were killing it. Miguel and I were just watching you in awe.”

“Breakfast is about to be ready,” Miguel says from the stove.

Lyla and you both turn to Miguel and share a little grin.

“Well, you did amazing but you really need to rest now. I agree with Miguel on this one,” Lyla says. “So rest up. Please.”

You nod with a little smile.

“Hm, didn’t know she had that term in her vocabulary,” Miguel comments as he places a plate with food in front of you.

“I do, I just don’t use it for you. Only with special members,” Lyla says with a shrug, which reminds Miguel of something Lyla said a while back. She mentioned you are one of her top five favorite members. Miguel silently wonders once again what your spot is, and who are the other four members. He has a feeling Spider-Plushie, Spider-Cat, Spider-Wolf, or Spider-Rex are up there with you.

He clears his mind and gives you utensils along with napkins, making sure you have everything so you can eat properly. Lyla has already disappeared.

“Thank you. My mouth is watering,” you tell Miguel as you look at the food.

“Go ahead and start eating. Your body needs it to recover,” Miguel says gently, gesturing for you to eat.

You take a bite and involuntarily close your eyes at the flavor. You would happily pass away right now with this amazing food.

Miguel watches your reaction, smirking softly at the sight and feeling pleased. He thought by now he would be used to it but each time, without failure, the sight of you smiling and enjoying the food makes him joyous. It’s so satisfying for some reason.

“Are you not eating?” you ask, looking at him now with wonder in your eyes.

The question brings him back to the moment and he nods. “Yes. Yes, I am,” he replies, offering you a little smile before he turns around to fix himself a plate. For a moment he forgot about himself, being more concerned with you eating first. He serves himself breakfast before joining you at the counter, taking the seat he always does. He silently thinks about how you both always sit on the same chairs, as if you were assigned to them. He smiles at this thought before he turns to look at you, finding you enjoying your food.

His face softens at the sight, and he’s suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling he’s had ever since you first stepped foot into his home this morning, and one that has stayed with him. He feels the need to stay here with you, to work from home so he can keep an eye out for you while you rest. He doesn’t want to tell you this though. Miguel knows you well and is certain that you’d try to work, or even go to HQ to avoid “disrupting” his routine if he tells you about his plan. He takes his utensil, getting ready to eat as he thinks about it. He’ll go to HQ and stick around for an hour before he comes back for the rest of the day, but that’s a secret, for now.

He takes a bite of food, appreciating the flavor as he silently plans. He’ll be back in an hour and easily ask Jess or Peter if they can fill in for today’s planned missions. If there’s any missions regarding anomalies, he’s sure other members can handle such missions. Miguel pauses as he thinks of other members, thinking of your friends.

“The others might wonder where you are. Do you want me to tell them what happened, and that you’re here?” Miguel asks gently. “Or, do you prefer to let them know yourself?”

You put down your glass and think. You haven’t even thought about them, feeling too exhausted. “Do you mind telling them?”

“I don’t. I can tell them once I get to HQ. I can tell them that they can come see you once you’re up for it, if you’d like,” Miguel says after he cleans his mouth. “Which is another thing I forgot to mention earlier. I know they visit you often back at your universe, so they can come here if you’d like.”

You shake your head slightly. “Thank you but that’s alright. You’re been far too generous already.”

Miguel frowns softly. “I mean it. I wouldn’t mind it, but if you prefer not to, that’s your choice. Just know that I’m fine with it. As I said earlier - my home is your home,” Miguel says picking up his own glass and taking a drink.

You smile at the offer but you don’t want to take advantage of Miguel’s kindness. Besides, you know you can always visit your friends, or arrange to meet up at HQ. You find it sweet though, the fact that Miguel has offered his home to you, and that he has said his home is your home. Not once but three times now.

The two of you eat in silence, enjoying both the food and each other’s company. Miguel keeps the conversation short, as he knows you must be exhausted. When the two of you are done and Miguel notices you standing up and retrieving your dishes, Miguel moves quickly. He takes the dishes from you gently, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it. I got it. Go ahead and rest. Really,” he says as you start to protest. He sees your little frown, and Miguel wonders if this is what you feel like when you want to help him and he protests because he believes that you’ve done too much for him already. He wonders if you feel frustration when he declines politely the way you are now when all he wishes to do is look after you. He sighs softly and places your dishes on top of his before he turns to you. “I’ll be at HQ but if you need anything - at all - please let me know. And again, please make yourself at home. Also, don’t worry about anything else for right now. We’ll sort it out but you need to rest for now, okay?” he says softly, eyes meeting yours.

You nod, noticing the look on Miguel’s face. Concern is written all over it. For a few seconds you wish you weren’t making him this concerned before your mind moves on to the fact that he said “we” when referring to tasks you’ll need to get done, as in the two of you will figure things out together. It’s the second time he’s said it and his words comfort you, deeply. You blindly thought your building would never go through a situation like this one and even less that you’d go through it without Peter. Sure, you were both prepared because that was the responsible thing to do, but you never thought you’d actually have to retrieve the file organizer for such a circumstance - that you’d be packing without Peter. You’re overwhelmed suddenly with the thought that you would’ve been alone for all of this if it wasn’t for Miguel. If you weren’t in the Spider Society, this morning would’ve been very different. You swallow the knot that’s forming in your throat and nod again, feeling emotional and so exhausted. “Okay, I will. I guess - I’ll be here,” you reply quietly, feeling like all your exhaustion is hitting you at once now that you’ve showered, eaten, and have relaxed. The adrenaline has finally worn off, and now you’re all emotion and exhaustion.

“Good,” Miguel replies gently, offering you a small smile. “I’ll let the others know you’re here, so they’re not too worried about you.”

You nod, biting your lower lip subtly and looking away for a few seconds. “Alright, be careful, please.”

Miguel blinks softly at the words, caught by surprise. He nods regardless and offers you a small but reassuring smile. “I will.”

With that, you nod and turn around. You walk towards the living room to head upstairs but pause at the doorway - having the need to say more.

Miguel stands up once he sees you pause. He wonders if something’s wrong. Perhaps you didn’t notice you had injuries earlier but now you’re feeling them, or maybe you’re so tired you’re disoriented. He takes three steps forward before you turn around and meet his gaze.

“Miguel?”

“Yes?” he responds softly, worry etched on his face.

“I think - I’m really tired. My exhaustion is hitting at last and that’s probably why I really want to tell you something I usually wouldn’t.”

Miguel’s eyebrows rises slowly, wondering.

“I truly appreciate everything you’ve done. I don’t think I will ever be able to thank you enough even if I said it a million times but it means so much to me,” you start. “You showing up and respecting my decision for no backup, but sticking around just in case. Helping me with my belongings and of course, offering me to stay here and trying to make me feel at home,” you add with a wavering voice. “It means so much to me and I wish -” you swallow gently, definitely feeling exhaustion take its toll on you, making it harder for you to hold back from expressing sentiments you’d usually hold close to your heart with Miguel. The words roll out of your mouth quickly and your voice quivers as if you were making a dire confession. “I wish I could give you a hug - a really tight one - just to emphasize with more than words - how much it means to me.” You pause for a second before finishing. “And I should go to sleep before I keep saying things. I hope that didn’t make you uncomfortable, and if it did, I’m really sorry.”

You nod quickly before walking away, not wanting to make Miguel feel more uncomfortable than he probably already is by lingering around. You leave Miguel behind, who watches you leave with a soft expression on his face. His cheeks are flushed and his hands form into soft fists as he stands alone now.

He continues to stare through the doorway, only seeing part of his living room now, and wonders… What would it be like? What would it be like to let you do exactly what you wish to do? What would it feel like to be hugged again? To feel warm arms wrapped around him? And what if he hugged you back?

Miguel sighs deeply as he leans on the counter before he gently hits the countertop with his fist.

What if?

Miguel’s mind is clouded with your words, with the possibility. He has been thinking about it for weeks now - two months, really. He has been thinking about it ever since Thanksgiving when the two of you, at his request, invited your friends over because there was so much food even after you both ate. He was caught up with the younger members, the spiderlings as you call them, a nickname that Miguel finds endearing and that he has found himself using mentally - even catching himself almost saying it verbally at times. The spiderlings were asking him questions about his sound system and he ended up showing them other devices from his universe. He remembers looking over from the living room to the kitchen and dining area and finding you leaning your head on Peter B.’s arm, so at ease.

For some reason, ever since that night, Miguel has been thinking about it more. About how much more open you are to physical touch. He notices it more these days. From the little gestures like high-fives to the big gestures, like on New Year’s Eve just a few weeks ago when Noir and Spider-Ham were talking to him and he realized you were suddenly gone from his side. He ended up finding you talking with Peter B.. Miguel relaxes his fists as he remembers, vividly, Peter’s arm around your shoulder and once again, how comfortable you were. The sight only added more fuel to his thoughts about physical touch.

Miguel looks at his pinky. There has been some physical touch. Some of it has been unintentional, of course. Miguel is not opposed to physical touch when it’s necessary, like on missions. He picks up civilians, carries them. When spider-people are in danger and need a hand, he lends one but on his day to day life, his personal life - Miguel has been limited. All contact in these situations involve having his suit on, so no skin to skin contact is made. Ever since losing Gabriella, the only person he has touched - with his bare hands and nothing in between - has been you with the pinky squeezes. He also remembers holding Mayday the day you were babysitting her but that’s it.

It’s just you and the pinky squeezes. The first time he did it, he didn’t even plan on it. It happened. All he knows is that his pinky was suddenly wrapped around yours, and he gave a little squeeze. Now there’s been a few other times, the last one being on New Year’s Eve. Everyone was hugging and welcoming the new year, and Miguel thought - after seeing all your friends hug you - that he’d try and give you a “hug” in his own way. It was also his way to comfort you a little bit after you cried, which made his heart ache even if you were crying “happy” tears as you said to him that night.

Besides the pinky squeezes, that’s all there has been, except for the first time he touched you. Miguel sighs as he realizes it will soon be two years since that day, making him wonder where the time has gone. He remembers it vividly, however, how he pressed his hand to your forehead almost two years ago to see if you had a running fever. He didn’t even think about it in the moment. Before he knew it, his bare hand was pressed to your skin and it was the first time since Gabriella that Miguel had touched anyone skin to skin.

Your words have Miguel standing here now, in his kitchen, contemplating. That’s not all though. He feels his heart speed up at the fact that you said you wished you could hug him, that you were telling him something you normally wouldn’t tell him and it was this. It means you’ve wished to hug him before. Miguel silently wonders how many times have you wished for this? He’s seen the way your hands sometimes reach for him but stop halfway, remembering his boundaries but how many times have you wanted more than pat his hand or arm? How many times have you wished to embrace him?

Miguel wonders again - what would it feel like to have the privilege of being hugged by you? What if he hugged you back, and embraced your warmth?

“Dios,” Miguel whispers as he stares down at his hands. He can feel a tingling, almost as if his own hands are asking - begging - him to go and feel.

He pushes himself off the counter and walks off, heading upstairs. His steps are quick but quiet to avoid disturbing you, and in truth, Miguel doesn’t know what he’s doing, not even when he reaches Gabriel’s bedroom door and he finds it ajar. He stands still and listens, his ears filled instantly with your soft breathing.

Miguel pushes the door open softly and sure enough there you are. You lay on the bed, under warm covers. The blanket reaches your collarbone area, keeping you warm. He steps in quietly, noticing the sunlight filtering through the windows and just before he calls for her, Lyla appears and gestures to the windows. Miguel nods gently as he watches his AI assistant give the command for the holographic blinds to lower. He watches for a few seconds as they’re lowered before he lifts his hand, giving a silent command to stop when they’re two thirds of the way closed as he doesn’t want you to wake up in full darkness.

He nods at Lyla who gives him a thumbs up and disappears, sensing that she needs to head out. Miguel watches you sleep. Your face is relaxed and there’s a soft look on your face. You’re, as always, hugging a pillow. Your breathing is soft and even - a sound that Miguel is far too well acquainted with, for this sound is his lullaby.

His hands still itch and he wonders, if you were awake, would he have done it? Would he have walked up to you and hugged you? Or would he have told you that you could hug him, and then he’d embrace you? Miguel shakes his head. There’s no use in thinking about it now. You’re asleep. Still… Miguel steps closer and extends his arm towards you. His index finger is inches away from your cheek.

Miguel retrieves his arm and drops it, telling himself you’re asleep and that it would be inappropriate to touch you, even if it’s only your face. He sighs quietly, looking around the room and making sure everything is alright. He wants to ensure that you’re safe and sound, one last time. Earlier when he came to place the blanket and organized your belongings a little better, he made sure that all the furniture was in good standing. He even made sure the floating shelves were secured to avoid any sort of injury, or to avoid your belongings falling.

Satisfied, Miguel glances back at you one more time. You’re fast asleep, resting after the exhausting early morning you had. He walks out of the bedroom, leaving the door the way you left it and returns back downstairs to make sure everything is turned off at the kitchen.

At last, Miguel heads to HQ, feeling like he’s missing something.

🕸️🕸️🕸️

Miguel closes a tab just as he hears people talking. He’d usually narrow his eyes in annoyance that people walked in unannounced - even if this is the norm from almost everyone - but today he requested this group specifically. He turns around as he hears the voices grow louder, and already, he can hear your name being mentioned.

“I sent her a message earlier to ask if she wanted a bagel. She seems to be offline,” he hears Gwen say.

“Offline? She’s never offline,” Miles replies, his tone uncertain about the situation.

“Maybe she needed a little break but… I think she would’ve told us she was doing that,” Peter B. adds with furrowed eyebrows. His gears already turning as he holds Mayday.

“That’s because I disabled her gizmo’s notifications,” Miguel says, immediately catching everyone’s attention.

“Is Y/N okay?” Pav asks, looking at Miguel with concern.

Miguel nods, his face softening at the sight of your concerned friends, especially from the younger members, the spiderlings. “She’s okay. She’s safe. Just - exhausted,” Miguel says to reassure your friends about your safety before he tells them about the fire. Your friends listen intently, concern clear on their faces as Miguel explains the situation, emphasizing that you’re safe and uninjured. “She’s here.”

“Here at HQ?” Noir asks.

Miguel shakes his head. “No. Not here at HQ. She’s here in Nueva York, but she’s staying at my place. I don’t know… For how long,” Miguel says pausing. He doesn’t know what your plans are. Will you be staying there for however is necessary, or will you try to go somewhere else? He tells himself that’s a question for later, for now all that matters is that you recover and rest. “But, she wanted to let you know that she’s okay. She has no injuries, thankfully. Her floor was spared from the fire, and we can only hope that the building remains stable,” Miguel continues. “I’m not sure that she’ll be here today. I think she should rest but, just know she’s safe.”

“Man,” Peter B. says almost in disbelief, hugging Mayday closer. “Why didn’t she ask for backup?”

Miguel turns to Peter B., agreeing more than ever on something with him. “She didn’t want backup. She asked Lyla not to notify anyone, but I’m sure you all know that she - she’s always -” Miguel pauses, feeling the stares from the members. “She’s always diligent. Always cautious. She’s - ” Miguel waves a hand around as if telling the members that they should know this. The members watch him, fighting the urge to smile because it’s not every day that Miguel O’Hara gives compliments. “She’s amazing, so she did well on her own,” Miguel finally manages to say. “She’s just exhausted. If you wish to tell her something, I’ll set it up so that the notifications don’t disturb her sleep, or you can wait till later in the day and maybe do a live call.”

Your friends nod, feeling sad that you’re going through this but they’re relieved that you’re uninjured and if all goes well, your apartment should be fine.

“What if the building becomes unstable and her belongings are all lost?” Margo asks.

Miguel turns to Margo, his eyes moving to everyone. His eyes stop on Jess, who raises one eyebrow at him, wondering, too. He nods at your friends.

“I offered to store her belongings here but I’ll ask her again.”

“We can help her move her items if she agrees,” Pav replies.

Miguel looks around, watching everyone nod at Pav’s statement. He feels comforted by the fact that your friends are so supportive.

“I’ll let her know,” Miguel responds gently.

He watches as your friends begin to talk, sharing ideas of things they want to do to be supportive. Miguel stares at them as they walk out, planning. He turns to Jess and Peter B. who stick around.

“I’m glad you guys stuck around. I wanted to ask you something,” Miguel starts, facing them.

“We’ll take care of it,” Jess responds.

“What?” Miguel replies, frowning.

“She said we’ll take care of it,” Peter B. says with a knowing smirk.

Miguel glances between the two of them.

“You’ll do your thing for about an hour and then go home, right? That’s what you’re doing.”

Miguel turns to Jess, still frowning.

“We got it, Miguel. You don’t have to worry. We’ve done it before, remember? About a year ago when you were injured. You go and, you know,” Peter say as he plays with Mayday’s hand, who looks up at him and nods her head, as if she, too is telling him to go.

Miguel loses the frown and nods, having no way to deny that they figured out his plan.

“Right. So you guys will be okay?” Miguel asks.

“Yes,” Jess replies. “You go and check on her. Give us the hour before you head out though. I’d like to put something together for her, and as you heard, the other members want to do something. That way you can take it to her.”

“I’ll let everyone know that we have about an hour,” Peter says nodding at Jess.

“Alright. I’ll be working on some things here,” Miguel replies gazing at the two members. “Thank you,” he adds, sharing a look with them.

“No problem,” Jess responds.

“Happy to help. We just want Y/N to be okay and feel supported. She loves her apartment so much, I’m glad the fire didn’t reach her floor,” Peter says.

“Me, too,” Miguel answers softly, turning away to begin working on his screens.

Jess and Peter B., unbeknownst to Miguel, share a knowing look before they head out.

🕸️🕸️🕸️

An hour later, Miguel closes out from his tabs, ready to head out. He would be lying if he said that he hasn’t been thinking about you or that he’s been asking Lyla to check on you while he’s away. It’s been reassuring to have her check on you, at least.

Miguel quickly gathers different items that he needs to take with him, since he’s decided that he’ll be working from home for the rest of the day and then, he waits on his platform. Jess and Peter told the others he’ll be heading out to check on you and that he might not come back, even though they both know he’s not coming back today for sure. He looks up just as your friends come into view, carrying bags with them.

He receives bag after bag, nodding at your friends as they share tidbits about the items they bought you. Miguel finds it endearing, of course. His lips twitch, wanting to curl into a smile as the younger members mention buying your favorite snacks from their universe.

“I’ll give her everything when she wakes up,” Miguel promises, finding common ground with your friends.

Your group of friends thank him but before they head out, Miguel remembers something. “I’ve enabled her notifications again, only for you guys, so if you wish to send her something, it’ll go through.”

Your friends nod happily at the news and as Miguel prepares to leave, he can hear their giddy voices about being able to send you messages again. He shakes his head and smiles softly before he heads out, ready to check on you.

It doesn’t take long for Miguel to reach his home. He finds himself quickly there and after placing all the bags your friends sent on the kitchen counter, Miguel heads upstairs to check on you. He finds you in bed, still sleeping. You’ve changed sides but you’re still holding on to your pillow. The sight satisfies him. He’s relieved that you’re resting and that you seem so peaceful after everything.

Miguel heads back to his bedroom and takes a shower since he didn’t take one before leaving for HQ and dresses in comfortable clothes. His plan is to stick around the penthouse for the day and help you get settled in. He also wants to look around the penthouse and make sure there’s space for you to set your items if you wish to, since all Miguel wants is for you to feel at home.

After checking the entire place for any necessary changes, Miguel starts thinking about lunch. He debates between ordering takeout or cooking something and ultimately decides to cook, believing that a homemade meal will be more appreciated. He thinks about what he should cook and eventually decides on a few dishes, knowing he has the items necessary before he checks on your universe. He knows you always do a morning patrol so he has Lyla check and make sure there’s no emergencies. He also checks on your building to make sure that it’s still standing. He sighs in relief when he sees that it is through his screens at home. He reminds himself to offer to bring the rest of your belongings again once you wake up since even your other friends offered, meaning everyone is on board.

Miguel works on other things throughout the morning, reading data from other universes - making sure the fate of the multiverse isn’t in jeopardy but every thirty minutes or so, he asks Lyla to check on you since he doesn’t want to end up waking you by accident with him checking on you physically. Thankfully, Lyla reports that you’re well and still sleeping peacefully.

It’s not until almost noon that you wake up. You feel lost for a few seconds, not realizing where you are until you remember that you’re in Miguel’s penthouse after what happened this morning. You sigh heavily and sit up, pushing the covers off you and stretching. Your muscles feel sore but stretching eases them so you spend a few minutes doing this until you feel slightly better. You get out of bed and head to the bathroom to use it before you return to the bedroom to change out of your current clothes. You change into comfortable clothes yet they help you wake up and get into the errand mindset. You have some things you wish to do today, at least the high priority ones.

Feeling a bit more together, you head downstairs to get some water since you’re feeling thirsty but pause when you hear soft music. You frown slightly, wondering if you’re just imagining it since you’re certain that Miguel is at HQ but when you reach the bottom of the stairs and find yourself in the living room, you hear it clearly. Miguel’s record player that you gifted him for Christmas about a month ago is playing. You stand there for a few seconds, appreciating the music as it’s Billie Holiday’s “Blue Moon” - one of your favorite songs of hers.

“And then they suddenly appeared before me, the only one my arms will ever hold”

“You’re awake.”

You turn, surprised. “Miguel.”

“How are you feeling?” he asks as he walks further into the living room. His eyes scan your face subtly, searching for any sign of trouble or illness, however, his mind quickly returns to your words from this morning. Thinking about that leads him to remember his internal debate about opening more to physical touch and how he almost touched your cheek in your slumber, causing his cheeks to feel warm suddenly.

“Better. So much better,” you reply honestly, giving him a small smile. You don’t seem to remember what you said, at least not now. “My muscles feel a little sore but, I feel rested. Thank you for asking. For everything, truly,” you add sincerely, which triggers your memory suddenly. You freeze for a few seconds as you remember, feeling your cheeks turn hot with embarrassment, so you avert your gaze from Miguel’s. “I… I just remembered what I said this morning and,” you pause, scratching your neck gently, nervously. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with what I said. The words were just - rolling off my mouth.”

Miguel stands about twelve feet away from you, noticing the way you avert your gaze from him, the way you nervously scratch your neck, and how embarrassed you seem suddenly. He feels ternura rush through him as he stares at you. It’s the opposite of what you think you’ve made him feel, so he steps closer, wanting to assure you.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, so please don’t stress about it. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about either. I understand you were exhausted, it’s only reasonable, and besides…” Miguel trails off, and now he’s the one scratching his neck nervously at what he’s going to say. He’s never actually talked about it, not even with Jess who seems to have been the one who told you about it some time ago - about him not being able to do physical touch. “You know the reason why I can’t but… I want you to know something.”

You turn to face him, your eyes meeting his. You both stare at each other with a soft, tender expression.

“I feel honored that you - you want to do that,” Miguel says quietly, holding your gaze. “That I’m somehow worthy of you wanting to - embrace.” Miguel pauses and looks away for a few seconds. “You know that I’m trying,” he continues, his eyes meeting yours again. He lifts his hand, his pinky finger being the only finger that’s straighten up. “I know it’s nothing compared to an actual embrace but I’m working on it.”

You nod gently, smiling warmly at him. This is the first time Miguel has ever brought up the pinky squeezes or physical touch for that matter. You’ve known for some time now that his pinky squeezes are intentional but hearing Miguel audibly admit that they are makes your heart flutter with happiness.

Miguel gives you a small smile, still holding his pinky finger up. He remembers this morning and how he was feeling - how he went upstairs, not knowing what he would’ve done if you had been awake.

You slowly lift your hand, your pinky finger out, returning the gesture from a far.

Miguel sees it, of course, and with his mind on this morning’s events, he steps closer before pausing. He stays still for a few seconds before he takes several more steps until he’s just about three feet away from you - your pinkies within reach now.

You watch him gently, with curious eyes. So far, Miguel has always found some kind of loop, an excuse to make the gesture seem unintentional. There’s always an object exchanged between the two of you that allows the pinky squeeze to happen, to make it seem like the gesture wasn’t planned.

Miguel looks down at your pinky and then his. Your hands are empty, and so are his. He has no way to excuse his gesture, and he’s not sure that he wants one anymore. He moves his hand closer, his pinky just inches from yours. He looks at you, his beautiful red eyes meeting yours and you see it clearly. A question. Is it okay?

You nod, still smiling softly at him but keeping your hand still. You know the significance of this moment, how big of a step this is for Miguel in his journey to move forward. You stand still, giving Miguel time to decide if he really wants to do this. You’ve never pushed his boundaries, and you have no intentions of doing that now, or ever. You’ll always be patient and respectful of him, no matter what.

Knowing this, Miguel slowly moves his pinky towards yours. He feels comfortable and unhurried as you stand there, letting him decide if he wants to proceed.

And he does.

Miguel’s pinky touches yours at last, making your fingers look like an “X” for a second before Miguel wraps his finger around yours gently.

You remain still, feeling Miguel’s warm finger wrap around yours. You can see the size difference - the way the tip of his finger is enough to wrap around yours. His finger feels soft and you feel a little overwhelmed with the fact that this is happening, that Miguel is really doing this. Just when you’re growing used to this feeling, you see and feel Miguel’s pinky give yours a gentle squeeze. You lift your gaze from your united pinkies to his face, finding him staring at your fingers, too. There’s a light blush grazing his cheeks and when his gaze meets yours, you can see vulnerability and yet, happiness, too.

Miguel holds your gaze, and smiles softly at you. He's done it. It's a small step but a big one regardless.

You don't squeeze his pinky back but slightly brush your finger against his, a sensation that Miguel finds comforting. You stay like this for a minute, or maybe two until your gizmo goes off. The sound startles the two of you but your pinkies remain locked with each other for a few more seconds before you feel Miguel’s pinky release yours gently, leading to both of you dropping your arms down at your sides. You both feel the loss of touch but of course, neither of you mention it.

“That’s probably your other friends. They were really worried about you when I told them what happened,” Miguel says gazing at you. “They sent you gifts - they’re in the kitchen, which reminds me, I have lunch ready if you’re hungry.”

Miguel gestures to the kitchen just as your hunger hits you. You grin sheepishly at him and nod. “I’m actually starving… Thank you, Miguel,” you tell him sincerely, feeling grateful not only for offering lunch but for everything else, especially what he opened himself to do just now. You offer him a smile, warm and sweet, as you think about this new step he has taken. You also hang on to the fact that he said your “other” friends, indirectly calling himself your friend.

“Always,” Miguel replies softly, his gaze still meeting yours as he’s overcome with a great happiness. He has been trying for months, ever since his near death experience back in the spring. He briefly realizes soon it’ll be a year since that happened, which is crazy to him - how fast the months have gone by. However, he’s relieved by the fact that he has stuck to his promise. He said he’d be trying, and he has. His steps may be small and slow, but they’re steps nonetheless, and they’re steps that he might have not taken if it wasn’t for you and that incident. “C’mon,” he says, gesturing for you to follow him. “I cooked something I think you’ll love.”

You follow Miguel to the kitchen, spotting bags on the counter. You figure those are the things that your friends sent, but decide to look at them later. For now, you take a seat as Miguel gestures for you to do so, and realize what he made.

“Flautas,” Miguel says as he carefully but quickly serves you a plate with flautas. The toppings are already set out since Miguel placed them right before he was about to go and check on you. After placing your plate down, Miguel retrieves glasses before he pours you a glass of agua de Jamaica, freshly made.

You watch in appreciation at how extra attentive Miguel is right now. He is always attentive but somehow, he’s even more so today. You thank him quietly and offer Miguel a smile, who is trying to make sure that you have everything you need.

“Always,” Miguel replies, taking notice of your smile. This morning you were giving him smiles and while they were warm and welcoming as always, he could see they were small and exhausted smiles. It was visible to Miguel that the fire took a toll on you, both physically and emotionally. Now, your smile is the same as always. It’s warm, welcoming, and bright. It’s lively, and the difference makes Miguel happy and relieved. He reciprocates with a soft smile, his gaze warm. “Do you feel rested?”

“I do, thank you. For the food and for- ,” you pause, smiling. “For everything.” You give Miguel a little nod, deciding to keep it simple and not go off like you did earlier. “I think I passed out as soon as I laid down,” you say, chuckling a little. “I don’t remember even falling asleep.”

Miguel grins softly, though his mind turns to this morning when he went into your bedroom. He feels embarrassed thinking about how he almost brushed his finger over your cheek as you slept peacefully. He clears his throat, trying to put that thought away. “I’m glad that you feel rested, and I’m not surprised you fell asleep so fast. You helped evacuate so many people, including that firefighter who was injured. It was a lot and you were - well, you were amazing,” Miguel says gently, remembering that you were a bit sensitive when he said that earlier. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable with his words but he also cannot seem to stop himself from telling you the truth.

You smile at him, your cheeks growing warm as Miguel tells you, once again, that you were amazing. You look away a bit shyly, something that Miguel notices. It’s not often that he sees you like this, and he can’t help but find it sweet.

“Thank you, that means a lot to me. I was just - really hoping no one was hurt. Thankfully there were no tenants injured, at least not seriously. Some of them had a few bruises from them rushing to get out, but there were no casualties.” You pause, thinking about your building. “My building… I hope it’s still standing, and hope it remains like that.”

“It’s still standing,” Miguel quickly says to reassure you. “I’ve been checking on it.”

You sigh in relief. “That’s good, that’s… I’m so relieved. I need to go and check on the area, see what’s happening. I think it was an electrical fire,” you say before you start adding toppings to your plate, and taking a gentle bite.

Miguel’s eyebrows shoot up as he hears this. He hasn’t thought about the cause of the fire, but now that you’ve mention your suspicion, he can’t help but think about the condition of your building. He recalls the time he fixed some things in your kitchen, asking you about those little details. Your building is on the older side, and now that you’ve mentioned it possibly being an electrical fire - it makes Miguel wonder if the building is even up to standards on the electrical aspect. The possibility that it’s not, worries Miguel.

“What did you notice?” he asks.

You wipe your mouth before telling Miguel about the notice your landlord gave out, and the young women you ran into on New Year’s Eve and their short conversation, to how the fire seems to have started on their floor.

“Of course, I’m not saying it was them but… It does lead me to believe that maybe because of the holidays there were other tenants who overloaded the circuits. I’m not really knowledgeable on this but you know,” you say softly and Miguel nods. “That’s why I think it was an electrical fire. I wonder how soon they can figure it out. I don’t think it was arson, but I guess I’m just being wishful.”

Miguel nods and considers your words. “Maybe it was an electrical fire.” He frowns softly to himself as he pours some agua de Jamaica for himself. “Perhaps they have an idea by now of what happened.”

“I hope so. I would like to know.”

“Well… how about we eat and then we can head over there?”

“I would appreciate it, but I don’t want to disrupt your day. You probably have so many things to do at HQ.”

Miguel takes a seat next you, placing his plate in front of him. “Don’t worry about it. Jess is there and so is Peter. If there’s an emergency, they’ll let me know. Everything else I can keep track of from here, and I’ve taken care of a lot of tasks already throughout the morning.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, looking at him, unsure. The last thing you want to do is disrupt his day when you know how important the fate of the multiverse is to him.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Miguel replies with a small grin.

The two of you eat and listen to music while Miguel tells you about your friends, and how worried they were about you. You smile all the while, feeling grateful for such amazing friends. After finishing eating, Miguel begins cleaning the kitchen, telling you not to worry about helping him even when you offer. So, you find yourself sitting at the kitchen counter with a piece of paper and a pen, jotting down everything you need to do while Miguel quietly cleans. You make a list quickly, mentally walking through your apartment and remembering what needs to be taken care of immediately.

Once you finish creating your list, you head upstairs and change into dark clothes because you remember that your suit is dirty from the morning and you have yet to wash it. To hide your face, you wear a hoodie. When you head back downstairs, Miguel looks at you with a bit of surprise before he remembers your suit.

“Your suit,” he says. “I forgot to tell you that we could put it to wash. It would’ve been ready by now if I had remembered.”

“It’s alright, please don’t worry about it. With so much happening, washing the suit was the last thing I was thinking about.”

“We can put it to wash right now while we’re out,” Miguel offers, and you decide to take him up on that offer.

After putting your clothes to wash, you meet Miguel in the living room. You find him inspecting something small in his hands, and upon hearing you join him, he turns fully to face you. He extends his arm out to you, offering a small device. You look at him and then back at the device with curiosity before you take the device from his hand.

“So you can have a digital suit on” Miguel explains. “It’s just a black and grey suit with a simple spider web design. I remember I had it from the early days just laying around in the office upstairs. That way your face can be covered just in case there’s civilians.”

Nodding, you inspect the small device before you smile at him. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. Definitely don’t want anyone to get any ideas about my identity.”

Miguel helps you set up the digital suit, telling you how to disengage it, which takes a few tries but eventually you get it. You can’t help but think of all the pros of having a digital suit as you look at your hands, reminding you of the time Miguel offered a new suit after he unintentionally ripped a bit from his accident several months ago. You grin at him once you disengage the mask.

“Very cool. I could get used to this, I think,” you tell him and he grins back.

“It’s nice having not to worry about washing a suit but there’s some cons,” he replies as he engages his, suddenly standing in his suit in the blink of an eye. He disengages the mask, still grinning at you. “Something could happen - a malfunction - and leave your identity exposed. I guess that’s really the big con. You could also accidentally break the chip, and well, you’re left with nothing, not even a malfunction to fix. It’s happened before,” he says with a frown, remembering the time it happened.

You chuckle softly at the way he frowns which makes him smile gently at you.

“You could also accidentally delete the file, or your AI assistant does it because she thinks it’s funny.”

“Lyla,” you say with an amused smile.

“Lyla,” Miguel repeats shaking his head. “I have these bags ready so we can transport things easier, at least when traveling the multiverse,” Miguel says showing you.

“Thank you, that’ll definitely make it easier to move some things around.”

“Great, you ready?”

Once you nod, Miguel opens a portal to your universe. The two of you step out onto a random rooftop before you make your way to your building. You look for a few minutes at the condition. It looks different in daylight and without the adrenaline pumping through your body. In daylight and with no smoke, you can see the true damage. You say nothing but both you and Miguel can see that reconstruction will take some time. At least two months or so, if you and the other tenants are lucky. The only thing that gives you hope is the fact that the building is stable, or it seems to be.

“It would’ve fallen by now if it was unstable, right?” you ask Miguel softly.

Sensing that you want some reassurance, Miguel gently nods, and thankfully he doesn’t have to lie. He’s sure that it would’ve already collapsed, or shown signs, if it was going to but your building stands firm. “I’m sure it would’ve. I also…” Miguel trails off as his eyes scan the sidewalk, looking for some kind of warning. “I don’t see any sign warning about it. And look, the street is functioning. Surely they would’ve blocked the entire thing. It seems to be stable.”

You nod as your own eyes sweep the area, finding no sign like Miguel said, which relieves you.

“Do you want to head inside?” Miguel asks, wondering if maybe you need more time.

“Yes.”

With that, the two of you sneak into the building. You walk down the hallway, finding doors opened like you left them earlier this morning when you were making sure that everyone was out. Miguel looks around, his nose immediately registering the smell of smoke even though this floor was spared from the fire. You push the door open to your apartment, finding it ajar, and enter with Miguel behind. You look around for a few seconds, the smell of smoke is definitely here even if it’s not as strong as it probably is on the floors below.

Miguel stands back, letting you assess the space. He knows how much this apartment means to you, and he can imagine what you must be feeling right now. He’s glad your floor is still standing at least, but this is still a sad situation he wishes you hadn’t experienced at all.

“Right,” you say with a sigh. You disengage your suit and pull out the list you created earlier from a pocket, engaging the suit again minus the mask. “The fridge and food are the first thing.”

“You tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it,” Miguel says behind you, not wanting to overstep.

“I’ll go through the fridge. Do you mind taking out the food from the cabinets there?” you ask politely, gesturing to some cabinets.

“Not at all. I’ll pack it up,” Miguel replies as the two of you head into the kitchen area of your apartment.

You begin working on the fridge, cleaning it out to avoid spoiled food, and packing away things like drinks and other items that should still be good. You eventually move to the top of the fridge where you store your cereal. It was where Peter always placed it, and you kept it there even after his passing.

Packing away some cans of food, Miguel looks up as you place a cereal box labeled Spider O’s into a bag, catching his attention. He didn’t know you had your own Spider-Woman cereal. He continues to work on clearing out your cabinets, deciding it’s a story for later.

With the two of you working together, it takes twenty minutes to clean the kitchen. Miguel takes care of your garbage while you move to other areas of your apartment, like your living room. You eventually move to your closet to pack more clothes and other necessities while Miguel takes what’s already packed to his dimension. As he leaves to take two bags, you remember you haven’t agreed to staying at his place beyond tonight, reminding you that you still need to discuss that. You let yourself think about it as you pack other items until Miguel returns. A few minutes later, you’re taking out clothes from the dryer when he arrives.

“Need help?”

“No, it’s alright. I got it. I was packing my detergents when I remembered I have clothes on both machines.”

Miguel nods as he hands you a laundry basket for the damp clothes. “We can put those to wash again, if you’d like. They might smell like smoke.”

”Yes, you’re right,” you reply as you start placing the clothes on the laundry basket.

Miguel picks up another bag, closing it carefully. “Are there other bags ready for me to take?”

You gesture to some bags that mostly contain your clothes. “Those right there. This is the last of everything, so I can take some of them, too.”

“I can carry them, don’t worry. If you want to look around and make sure you have everything, go ahead. Take your time,” Miguel says softly, wanting to emphasize that you don’t need to rush.

“Thank you. I’m doing a quick scan but - looking at my list, that should be it,” you say as you pull out your list once again. You check it, looking for anything you may have skipped but find nothing. “That’s it from my list, but I’ll do one more round just to make sure.”

With your laundry basket pressed against your hip, you walk around the apartment trying to see if there’s anything else that needs to be done. You’re certain you’ll be returning over the next few days just to check up on things - maybe even open the windows a little bit while you do patrols to let the smell of smoke out. At last, you feel satisfied and see nothing else to do or retrieve, at least not at this moment. You sigh softly, thinking. You want to go downstairs, to the floors that were directly affected, but you say nothing.

Miguel and you return to Nueva York, to his penthouse. When you step out onto Miguel’s living room, you spot the bags. They’re all neatly aligned against a wall, ready to be unpacked.

“I’ve put the bags with food at the kitchen. I went ahead and put what was refrigerated in the fridge, so you don’t have to worry about that. I figure the rest of the non-perishable food can be organized later.”

“That sounds great, thank you,” you reply giving Miguel a warm smile. “You’ve helped me so much. I really appreciate it.”

“Always,” Miguel replies with a soft smile before he glances at the bags. “We organize those when we’re back?” You stare at him with curiosity, so he continues. “You want to look at the building, right? I’d like to go with you, just to make sure you’re safe. There may be loose debris.”

“You know me too well,” you reply, which makes Miguel smile once again. “I do want to look. Maybe it’s silly of me but, I’d like to for some reason.”

“It’s not silly,” Miguel says as he engages his mask again. “I’d want to do the same thing, so I understand completely. Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m ready.”

🕸️🕸️🕸️

Miguel and you step over debris once you find yourselves on the main floor where the fire started. As Miguel predicted, there are loose wooden boards hanging from the ceiling in some areas. There are holes in the floor and what is left standing is damaged. You warn Miguel to be careful as you head to the first apartment you were in earlier this morning. Looking around, there are signs that this apartment had it worse than other areas, leading you to believe that this is where the fire started for sure.

“This was the first apartment I came into. The apartment belongs to the young women.”

“It seems to be in the worst condition,” Miguel says as he inspects a wooden board.

“I was thinking that, too,” you reply as you move about, careful not to hurt yourself. You keep an eye on Miguel as well, especially knowing that he doesn’t have a spidey sense, so he doesn’t end up injured.

You check what’s left of a wall, not really having a purpose for being here other than seeing the damage up close for yourself. You inspect the wall before moving away, your eyes scanning what’s left of burnt items. Your gaze stops on exposed wires, catching your attention immediately. Upon closer inspection, without touching, you read the label on them. Something about the brand’s name reminds you of something, but you can’t pinpoint it in this moment.

“What did you find?” Miguel asks standing next to you now, finding you gazing closely at something.

“Some wires. I think this is what’s left of a string of lights. I was just thinking how the brand’s name sounds familiar but I can’t remember from where,” you say with a shrug.

Miguel takes a look at it. Something about it also strikes him but he, too, cannot pinpoint it.

“OBRN.”

“OBRN,” you repeat but shake your head. “I’m probably overthinking, but finding this and seeing the state of this one apartment does seem like the fire started here. I guess we’ll have to see.”

Miguel frowns at what’s left of the string of lights, wondering how the tag survived the fire but dropping the topic for your sake. Despite resting during the morning, Miguel is sure this is still exhausting, if not physically, at least mentally and emotionally.

“Yeah, I guess we’ll have to wait,” he replies as you turn away, quickly typing something onto his gizmo before he follows you.

You sigh softly and nod at Miguel. “This is definitely going to take some time,” you murmur more to yourself than Miguel, sadness and disbelief laced in your tone.

Miguel detects it and stands next to you, trying to provide some comfort with his presence. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispers. “The building will be fully functional in no time, I’m sure.”

Smiling once again, you nod at Miguel’s words. “Yes… You’re right. Everything will be okay,” you state, embracing those words.

The two of you stand there for a few minutes in silence. You decide it’s time to go as you feel a breeze hit your unmasked face, causing you to shiver and remember winter just started.

“Do you want to head back?” Miguel asks, noticing the breeze and the way you shivered.

“Yeah, I think it’s time. It’s getting colder,” you reply.

“It is,” Miguel answers as he opens a portal for the two of you, finding it safe to do so in this space.

The two of you head back to Nueva York, which makes you realize Miguel has traveled from your universe to his multiple times today just to help you. As you travel between universes, you tell yourself you’ll bake something for him in the next few days as a way to show your appreciation for all his help and support. Once in Nueva York, you put a load of clothes to wash since most of your clothes smell like smoke. You also put your suit and the other clothes you had on this morning to dry with Miguel’s gentle encouraging to make yourself at home and to feel comfortable using the penthouse however you need to.

Afterwards, Miguel helps you organize the food that was brought from your home, finding cabinets to store it at without messing his kitchen organization, something you were worried about. Of course, Miguel didn’t mind at all.

After a little break and showering again because of the smell of smoke, the two of you move upstairs to your bedroom for the evening. You’ve made your mind up but there’s some things you want to talk about with Miguel, points you hope to discuss later.

In the meantime, you and Miguel fix the bedroom. You set up your personal hygiene products on the dresser while Miguel safely unpacks your records and places them on the bookshelf. You proceed to place Peter’s record player on the desk for now and other items that belonged to him on the bookshelf.

As you do that, Miguel moves towards a box he remembers carrying here earlier in the morning. He doesn’t know what’s in it but he carefully picks it up and asks where he should place it.

“That’s Peter’s… belongings,” you reply softly as you stare at the box.

Miguel notices your lingering gaze, the way it softens. He gently offers it to you, figuring that you want to handle this box personally. You smile at him with respect and endearment, and surprisingly, shake your head.

“I trust you with it. I’m not opening it right now. I haven’t opened it in… some time, to be honest,” you reveal, holding one of Peter’s belongings. “I think it can go under the desk for now. Thank you, Miguel.”

He nods with a soft smile, feeling touched that you trust him with this box knowing how much Peter and his belongings mean to you. He proceeds to place the box under the desk, carefully, before moving on to something else.

At last, the two of you are done. You both sit on the bed and look around the room, seeing the progress. All throughout the process of fixing up the bedroom, you’ve been keeping track of the laundry, a chore you decide to tackle tomorrow when you realize it’s been a few hours since you and Miguel headed to your universe. There’s also the fact that you haven’t done a patrol at your universe, something that nags you.

Looking around the room, you notice how this feels like “your” room now. There’s Peter’s record player on the desk and your technology devices. Your personal hygiene products and other accessories are on the dresser. Some of your pictures are displayed on floating shelves, some of which include Miguel.

“Thank you for helping me set up,” you tell Miguel quietly.

He nods, looking at some of the photos. “Always,” he says turning his gaze towards you.

You grin at him before you check the time on your gizmo. “I’m going to - head out for a little bit. To patrol,” you explain. “I didn’t do my morning patrol, and it feels weird.”

“Understandably,” Miguel replies. “It’s just for today though. You’ll fall back into your routine, I’m sure of it.” Miguel turns to the window, noticing the sun has almost disappeared for the day before he returns his gaze to you. “I’ll be here if you need anything during your patrol. Take it easy, okay?”

“I will,” you reply with a small grin before you stand up. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Miguel nods watching you leave the bedroom and sitting in the room for a little while, thinking about dinner.

You head to your universe and patrol, feeling some sense of normalcy as you do this. You fly around your city, making your usual stops and feeling more at ease. Your night patrol makes you feel better as you swing between buildings and cars below, even when you think about Peter and his words from the dream. You give a silent thank you to him, finding his words soothing. Fortunately, you find no trouble or emergency, so you decide to head back to Nueva York an hour later, knowing you’ll still be able to know if something does happen.

It’s then that you receive a notification from Miguel telling you that he’s buying dinner and that he’ll wait for you on a rooftop, which makes you wonder for a few seconds before he sends coordinates. You head to Nueva York, traveling directly to the rooftop Miguel told you, realizing it’s a round building. You step out and look around, finding no one. You walk to the edge of the rooftop, looking at the nearby buildings and streets below in hopes of spotting Miguel. It takes you a few seconds but you eventually sense his presence through your spidey senses, or at least you believe it’s him. As you look around, you finally spot his suit as he swings from building to building with one arm while he holds things in the other.

He reaches you in no time, landing gently on the rooftop. His mask disengages as he approaches you.

“How did it go?” he asks.

“It went well,” you reply. “No encounters. It was peaceful.”

“That’s good,” Miguel says as he hands you a to-go cup. “I’m glad you had no trouble, especially after today.”

You thank him for the drink and nod. For some reason, it feels like it’s been days since the fire, as if it wasn’t this morning when you woke up and realized your building was on fire. You sigh quietly, chalking it up to the fact that it has been a long day.

“I hope you don’t mind but I bought tacos. There’s this great place in downtown and they make the best. I would say they have the best ones in Nueva York, really, and I thought after everything that it’d be nice to just eat out. Gabriel also used to say there’s nothing like tacos to lift someone’s spirits,” Miguel says with a soft smile as he gestures for you to join him.

You smile back and follow him as he reaches the edge of the rooftop. He places the bags on the ground before he sits down, his legs danging off the building. You look around for a few seconds before you join him, the bags between the two of you now. You watch as he pulls out boxes from a bag before he spreads the empty bag on the floor, and then placing the boxes over it so the boxes don’t make contact with the ground.

“That’s agua de horchata. I was going to get you agua de Jamaica but - the place is known for their agua de horchata, so I figured why not,” Miguel explains as he hands you a straw.

You grin and accept the straw before you try the drink, and of course, it’s amazing. “I can see why. It’s so good!”

Smiling, Miguel hands you napkins. “I thought you’d like it. On the tacos, I order a few of each since I didn’t know what kind you wanted, and I didn’t want to distract you while you were patrolling, so I thought this was a good option.” Miguel puts his straw into his cup, thinking. He’s telling a half-truth. He could’ve sent you a quick message about your order but he truly didn’t want to disturb you. He knows today has been a long day, not only because of the fire itself but the aftermath, too, with packing and taking care of the little things like the fridge and the food. He hoped that nothing came up at your universe so you could have a moment of peace, at least. Thankfully, it seems that it went well since he can see that you’re in good spirits. The other reason why he didn’t reach out about the food is because he wanted to surprise you.

He got the idea after you left and he remained in the bedroom, thinking about dinner. Being in Gabriel’s old room, Miguel remembered what his brother used to say about tacos, about how they could cheer people up. It was always his way to cheer up Miguel when he was stressed out, even back when Miguel was in college. Gabriel always joked that it was his love language, which always made Miguel laugh. He never dared to disagreed with the younger O’Hara on that.

Miguel focuses on the now as the two of you set up the salsas and lime slices to use on your tacos. Once that’s settled, the eating begins. You grab from one kind and Miguel from another, discussing how amazing the tacos are. Miguel tells you to try a salsa, while you tell him to try another one.

Despite the cold weather, the two of you enjoy your food and conversation on the rooftop, eventually talking about other things like your friends. The conversation about them leads you to remember their messages, which you read earlier, and the gifts they sent. You remind yourself to check the gifts once Miguel and you return to his place. At some point the conversation shifts and Miguel is telling you more about Nueva York. He tells you about the buildings around you before he tells you about the stores that can be found in Nueva York’s downtown. He mentions the public libraries, parks, and the Lunar Train, thinking to himself that he hasn’t been to those places in years but that it’d be nice to visit again. He looks at you when he thinks about that - an idea forming in his head but one he doesn’t voice. Not yet, anyway.

After eating, you thank Miguel for the amazing tacos. He asks which ones were your favorites, just so he knows for future reference before you both fall into a comfortable and peaceful silence, drinking from your cups with agua de horchata. Your gazes take in the skyline of Nueva York at night, a sight you’re not used to but one that you love and appreciate when you have the opportunity to. You silently think about how beautiful Nueva York is before you look down, noticing you must be about fifty thousand feet in the air.

Miguel continues to observe the skyline before his eyes move higher up, finding a sky sprinkled with stars. He feels at ease, comfortable like he always does when you’re in his presence. He takes another drink from his cup, thinking. You’ve settled in and things have been taken care off at your apartment for the time being but there’s still something pending. Something neither of you have brought up. He holds on to his cup, still looking at the sky. Should he bring it up now? Should he wait?

Miguel doesn’t want you to feel like he’s pressuring you to stay, or for you to take him asking as a sign that he doesn’t want you to when in reality, it’s the opposite. He hopes you stay at his place so you’re not staying at a hotel with limitations. Plus, he doesn’t like the idea of you staying alone at a hotel, even if he knows that you can take care of yourself. He sighs quietly as he stares at the stars, silently debating. He feels some peace knowing you’ll at least stay at his place for tonight, maybe even the weekend, too.

You look up from the ground and stare at the sky, noticing twinkling stars. You enjoy the sight as you start thinking about how your friends offered a place for you to stay at, especially the Morales family. You’re grateful for your friends and their loved ones who were also worried about you but you politely declined. Everyone lives with someone already whether that’s with parents, spouses, or other friends, like Hobie, so you felt that it would be too much of an inconvenience. The gesture makes you incredibly grateful, however. You have loving and supportive friends.

“What are you thinking about?” Miguel asks softly.

You grin. “Honestly? About how everyone has offered me a place to stay in the meantime.” Your gaze drops to Nueva York’s skyline again, feeling Miguel’s eyes on you. “And how I’m so thankful I have all of you. It really means a lot to me. So much,” you say with a soft sigh. “Perhaps I was naive, but I never imagined this happening and - much less without Peter, you know? I’m just… I’m really happy - and so thankful - that I’m not alone,” you confess, turning to face Miguel at last.

Meeting your gaze, Miguel smiles gently, understanding what you mean. He’s glad that you’re not alone anymore, which is something that still bothers him. He hates thinking about how you spent so many years on your own. As time has gone by, Miguel has found himself wondering about those years. Did you ever get sick? Did you ever find yourself unwell because of your period like you did the first time he ever went to your apartment? There were other things he thought about, like the first year without Peter when you had already cut ties with friends. Who was there for you? Who looked after you? Who comforted you?

Miguel knows there was no one, and it bothers him deeply. So much, that he still wishes he would’ve found your universe sooner, even thought you told him a while ago that he found you at the “right” time. His uneasy thoughts about this are soothed by the fact that those days are over for you. You have friends - a little family - that loves and supports you.

And he, thankfully, is part of it.

“You’re not alone,” Miguel says, stating it as a fact. “You have so many people that love and support you. We’re all here for you - the way you’re always here for us.”

You smile brighter at that. “Thanks to the Spider Society,” you say softly. “You know - I can’t believe I declined Jess’s invitation at first.”

Miguel grins, chuckling quietly. “I think I remember you saying multiple times, too.”

“I did. And she came back and asked me again, until she finally convinced me by asking me what Peter would’ve thought.” Your smile softens at the thought of him, your sweet Peter. You turn to the sky, thinking that if it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be here now. Even in death, Peter has guided and supported you throughout the years.

You think about your dream from this morning, how he warned you about the fire. or at least, it seems so. A warmth spreads throughout your chest as you turn to Miguel. If it wasn’t for Peter, you wouldn’t be here now, next to one of your closest friends. You silently thank Peter.

As to Miguel, he gazes at you, noticing that soft look on your face as you think about the man he never had the opportunity to meet. Despite never meeting the man, Miguel also silently thanks Peter for being the reason you joined the Spider Society - for having you in his life now.

You sigh and smile at Miguel. “I want to negotiate some terms.”

Miguel’s eyebrows raise at this but he quickly realizes what you’re talking about. He gives you a small but playful smirk before he turns his body to you, pulling one of his legs inside and close to his body while leaving the other one still dangling off the rooftop. “Let’s hear these terms then.”

You mirror his position, leaving enough space between each other to place your drinks. “Okay, well first of all - you said not to worry about bills or rent, or even groceries.”

“That’s correct.”

“I realize I cannot help with bills or rent because of our different currency.”

“Yes, and there’s no way for us to convert it either,” Miguel replies all too happily about this.

You playfully glare at him, which only serves to amuse him more. “Yet. We should find a way to do that, to be honest but - as to right now, there’s no way. However, I can buy groceries.”

Miguel saves your idea about establishing a currency conversion system for the future. It might be something fun for the Spider Society. He briefly realizes that he’s into this idea, which makes him recognize that he has shut down other members’ ideas in the past. He wonders.

Is it that he has changed his mind because of the years and his progress in moving forward, or is it because it’s coming from you? He doesn’t have much time to think of it, and he decides maybe it’s for the better, at least for now, before he addresses your statement about buying groceries. “No, you don’t have to do that. I told you this morning that I’ll take care of that. The only thing, food wise, that you need to worry about is if it’s something that’s not available here. Everything else, I got it.”

“But Miguel -” you start, pausing and releasing a gentle but frustrated sigh. “I know I can’t help with bills and rent but please let me help with this. I know you’re being generous - supportive but I don’t want to just, you know. Stay there for however long this will take or however long it’s okay for me to stay-”

“I’m not kicking you out,” Miguel says, losing his smirk for a few seconds. Now he’s the one frustrated. “I wouldn’t be offering if I was planning on asking you to leave at some point. You can stay there for however you need, or want to,” Miguel explains.

“Thank you,” you reply softly. “But that means, it might be a little while, and you’re already being so kind by letting me stay with you. I can’t - just stay there and not contribute somehow.”

“You can, you just don’t want to,” Miguel says gently, earning himself a playful glare again. He grins. “Alright, what are suggesting then?”

“I want to help with groceries, and other ways. I know it’ll be tricky with the groceries, and I don’t have a good plan yet but I want to contribute,” you reply.

Miguel chuckles softly, finding it both endearing and amusing when you admit not having a plan yet, but still wanting to contribute. Understanding where you are coming from, Miguel nods at last. He knows you’re an independent woman in all aspects and you’ve probably become even more so since you’ve lost Peter. He understands that you feel the need to do something, to contribute. He realizes he’s been the same way for years - always trying to be independent. Miguel silently wonders if maybe, this temporary change will help the two of you relearn that some forms of dependency are not bad.

“I understand wanting to contribute somehow and I’ll respect it, even though I want you to know that I mean it when I say you don’t have to worry about these things… What I’m trying to say is that, you don’t need to worry about some kind of payment, Y/N. If it was me, you would be telling me the same thing. I know it,” Miguel replies. “I’ll be more than happy to cook for the two of us, but I also know that on some days you might want to eat something that I don’t know how to cook, so you can buy groceries if you wish but,” Miguel pauses and shrugs, grinning softly. “We could always plan meals. If you want to, of course. Or, have days where we cook something individually, which I’ll always make a plate for you just in case you want to try it. We can think of something, I’m sure of it. We’re not strangers, we’re…” Miguel trails off and nods at you. “You would do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” you reply quickly, without hesitation.

“Then, you understand. I don’t want any kind of payment. I don’t want you to worry about bills or contributing somehow. I just want you to feel at home as much as possible. I know it’s not the same as your apartment, as your universe but that’s my hope. I understand you want to do something though, so I’ll respect it. We can think of something as the days go by if it makes you feel better,” he offers gently.

“I’d like that. I don’t want this to feel like…” you trail off. “I’m taking advantage of you.”

Miguel shakes his head and smiles, reassuringly. “You’re not. You could never. I’m the one offering, and I’m doing it willingly and happily. I just want to help as much as I can. The same way you would help me.”

You sigh softly and nod. “Alright.”

“So, do we have a deal? Are you open to staying in Nueva York for the meantime?”

You hold Miguel’s gaze and nod. “Yes.”

“Good,” Miguel answers happily, relieved.

“Thank you,” you add gently.

“Always.”

The two of you smile at each other for a few seconds before turning to look at Nueva York’s skyline once again in silence, enjoying the rest of your agua de horchata under a star sprinkled sky.

_________ Translations of Spanish words: Mierda - Shit Dios - God Ternura - endearment, tenderness Flautas - literally translates to "flute"; a deep fried tortilla with meat filling and topped with various toppings like cabbage, salsa, fresh cheese Agua de Jamaica - hibiscus tea Agua de Horchata - sweet Latin beverage, mainly made out of rice _________ A/N: Hi, guys!! First update of the year!! I hope January has treated all of you well! 🥰 I'm sorry for the delayed update. I got caught up with some things after the holidays, and then decided to take a little break from social media and writing, so that delayed the update a little bit. I'm so happy that I got the update out before the end of the month though! What do we think, though? WE'RE STAYING AT MIGUEL'S PLACE!! 🥺 And he's so sweet about making you (us) feel at home (not me fangirling about my own work but it's Miguel)!! I just - I love him!! And Miguel being opened to more physical contact? He's moving forward!! 🥹 I hope you guys enjoyed this part!! I also want to give @sunsetdoodler credit and a shoutout for the Spider O's cereal! She included it in this fanart many months ago and I loved it so much I wanted to include it at some point. It'll show up again in the future for sure! Thank you @sunsetdoodler !! Your support means so much to me!! ❤️ Also, shoutout to Ana, or @faretheeoscar who led me to give a bit of a sneak peek about something that will happen in the future thanks to her "Promise Me Miguel" AU based on a dream she had (I wish I could dream of Miguel and our Peter 😭)!! I also want to mention, once again, that there's so much fanart that has been created for this fic by incredible and talented artists!! Please go and check it out, and show some love to the artists!! ❤️ You can find all fanart here - under the "Nonviolent Communication" header! Thank you guys for reading and supporting this story!! It means so, SO MUCH to me!! I truly appreciate all the support - from the reblogs to the comments and likes; to the asks about songs some of you have connected to the story to little scenarios and your thoughts on the story!! I'm always surprised to see that you guys think of the story in your daily life - like, you guys actually think about it? It always makes my day!!! 😭

I'm truly so grateful for all the amazing support this story has received so far, and I hope you all enjoy the rest of it!! 🥺 Thank you guys!!! I hope the beginning of February treats you well!! ❤️ -Alondra

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